Infiltration Mission Tifa ((hot)) May 2026

Looking back at the monolithic tower, she allowed herself a small, hard smile. They had the most advanced security in the world. But they had never accounted for a bartender who could read a man’s next move in the twitch of his trigger finger.

Not her own. The fear of the two guards currently crumpled in the corner of the loading bay, their nightsticks lying uselessly next to their unconscious forms. Tifa Lockhart adjusted the leather strap of her glove, listening to the rhythmic hiss of the ventilation shafts overhead. She didn’t break bones if she could help it. A swift, precise strike to the carotid artery, a soft catch of their falling bodies—clean, quiet, and merciful. infiltration mission tifa

Cloud was the distraction tonight. He was brilliant at that—a silent, spiky-haired ghost haunting the upper reactor catwalks, drawing the security bots and the heavy patrols toward the east wing with a few well-placed blips on their motion sensors. Meanwhile, she had taken the "plumbing" route. The sewers. The basement corridors. The places Shinra’s white-collar executives forgot existed. Looking back at the monolithic tower, she allowed

Tifa shook out her hand. The knuckles were raw. She glanced at the Turk’s prone form. Sorry. She meant it. Most of them were just former soldiers trying to pay a pension. Not her own

She found it on a steel desk next to a half-eaten plate of sushi. The executive had stepped out for a bathroom break, leaving his lunch and his treason out in the open. Arrogance. It was Shinra's greatest weakness.