Infiltration Mission Tifa [work] May 2026

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.

The air in the Shinra warehouse tasted of ozone, stale coffee, and fear. infiltration mission tifa

Her left hand shot back, not to strike, but to parry. Her knuckles met the hard bone of a shin—a kick aimed at her spine. She absorbed the impact, pivoted on her left foot, and unleashed a rising uppercut that connected with the underside of a Turk’s jaw. The man, sleek in his black suit, flew backward two feet before his skull met the edge of a specimen tank. Tifa shook out her hand

She didn't turn. She moved.

She pressed her ear to the cold metal. Click-hiss. That was the cycle. A three-second gap between the solenoid engaging and the bolt throwing. Her fingers traced the edge of the door frame, finding the maintenance override—a tiny, recessed toggle. The air in the Shinra warehouse tasted of

The room was a gallery of nightmares. Glass tubes filled with murky green liquid, each containing a half-formed creature with too many teeth or too many eyes. Tifa’s stomach tightened, but her face remained a mask of calm. She wasn't here to save the monsters. She was here for the folder marked "Reunion Theory."

Tonight, Seventh Heaven was closed. And Tifa Lockhart was open for business.