Ice...
They say that only the most heartless of humans can take a life. I guess they're right. Me? I do it with ease. Sure, the first time I swore the guilt of seeing that helpless face at my mercy would eat away at me for all eternity. Nah, yo. I've got a feel for this job. I'm paid to assassinate. Sounds sexy, don't it? Assassination. The sight of a bullet piercing tender flesh and the immediate explosion of blood. Heh. Makes me feel powerful, yo. I am powerful. I'm a mother fuckin' Turk, bitches. I'm someone to be feared.
But...that's not all I am. Look at my face. Just look. Them angles tell a story. The mako blue eyes speak volumes. The crooked grin begs for attention. See these tats? Why do I look the way I do? Why do I dress the way I do? Why do I smoke? Why do I drink? Why do I womanize? Why do I kill? Why am I still alive when pieces of my heart have been scattered here and there? And now there's barely enough left to survive. Frequently asked questions, yo. No. I don't ignore them. I answer them in silence and maybe if you listen close enough, you'll hear me.
I hold strong. I tell myself that I do have a purpose, yo. I'm a Turk. Reno the Turk. Heh. Reno. It's a known name. I often find myself wondering when I hear it being called out in such reckless abandon each time I take the plunge: who named me? Where's the man and woman who gave me this fiery mess of hair, these intense blue eyes, this chiseled face? And why didn't they care enough to keep me?
I have these faint memories etched into my mind. It's blurry but I can make it out. I see a boy being pushed on a swing and he's laughing the only way a happy child can laugh. It's a nice memory. But there ain't much else to it. Just what follows. A life that leads to where I am now.
People never bothered to see the man behind the title. So why should I? Yes. I'm a Turk, yo. But that's not all I am. Say my name. I'm Reno. I'm a man with a broken heart and shattered dreams. This is my reality. Welcome to yours and watch me pull the trigger.
...cold.
How does it feel Reno, when you point that gun and let loose? How does it feel Reno, when you plunge deeply into a nameless whore, hearing her moan your name? How does it feel Reno to know that regardless of where you go and what you do, deep down...you'll always despise what you are? How does it feel Reno, to lie to yourself day in and day out?
How does it feel? Heh. I'll let you know when the perpetual numbness finally fades. Perhaps heaven's gates won't open up for me. No big. In the end, peace is all anyone wants. I'm sure in time that I'll find mine, regardless of where it is. But until then, remember my name, yo. I'm a Turk. Reno...the turk. Reno.