Drabble. Elena muses on what it is to be a Turk, and how it differs from before she joins, to being a rookie, and to finally doing what it takes to be a Turk.
All those illusions were shattered the moment I was inducted, as you might imagine. Turns out the Turks don't do whatever they want, though they do tend to enjoy their job. To be a Turk, you need to be willing to do whatever the president says. At first, it was President Shinra. Now, it is President Rufus Shinra. The difference lies within the missions, not what, but where and who. I learned long before Rufus that the Shinra came first. No Turk ever ruled anything; we are puppets for Shinra, and there is nothing we can do to change that.
At first, I had no trouble with that. The missions were simple, understandable. I had yet to kill, and so, I thought nothing of it. I'd known I would have to someday, but as long as the Shinra continued to send me on simple missions, I was content. I was a Turk, and I'd broken my back to become one. In the beginning, I really thought I knew what being a Turk meant. I thought it was so easy, so simple: you belonged to Shinra. Were it possible, the man would keep your heart in a jar on his shelf. Nothing came before Shinra, nothing came before the missions he assigned you. I thought it was cut and dried, that such strict regulations would keep me from being confused or second guessing. It was drilled to all our heads: Shinra was as close to God as any of us would be seeing.
But it was on my first assassination that I realized what being a Turk really meant: Being a Turk meant asking "How high?" if Shinra told you to jump. It meant attacking everything in the name of God, from the saint to the devil. It meant your soul in a box, your freedom confined by one man only, a long leash but one easily retracted. It meant watching people plea for their lives, but doing what you were told, because Shinra said so.
Being a Turk meant pulling the trigger.