Adverse Side Effects
By: Insufferable R
Disclaimer: I don't think this is necessary…is it? Oh, alright, alright, I don't own Final Fantasy VII along with its prequels and sequels. Sheesh, you don't have to rub it in, you know!
Summary: Closely monitoring the mildly insane can be quite a difficult task, on occasion, if not a slightly amusing one. Closely monitoring the mildly insane who've taken a liking to one irritating brat of a ninja, however, is a different story altogether. YuffieReno
Warnings: I am not, I promise you, joking when I say spelling is not my forte. Neither is the ability to stay away from a healthy amount of imaginative swearing. Oh, yes, and I could probably be considered insane for how I've implemented the shopping cart in this chapter, so consider yourself warned!
Brief Introduction: To avoid any adverse side effects,—though considering the title, I'm not quite sure why I'm trying—please be warned that this story is not compatible with almost any sequel or prequel to Final Fantasy VII—only the original game. So, yes, to save everyone the headache, I'm going to put it out there in advance that Reeve is the president to Neo ShinRa, a rising giant of a company, and the Turks division is still present, however, has been turned into something, though not quite, that could resemble law enforcement—heavily covert and behind the scenes.
Alright, now that I've fairly bored you to death with my ramblings…On with the show!
Of Coffee, Elevators, and Karma
In Reno's opinion, luck is a false notion, theorized about only for the purposes of justifying those poor saps and sour losers who's stupidity placed them in their, respective, unfortunate situations. That, however, hardly means that, on occasion, the Turk, himself, doesn't find a reason or two to curse that fickle bitch of a sham concept for deserting the likes of him altogether as well.
Case in point, the rather noticeable lack of coffee within the confines of his kitchen—heck, within the confines of his whole apartment!
Analyzing the situation, Reno had to cringe at the predicament. At the ungodly hour of four in the morning, the red-head had yet to finish studying a thick—too thick—file of gruesome pictures and boring text with, apparently, as he found out, no caffeine to aid him in the endeavor. Indeed, with the definite absence of something that could potentially be labeled Reno's lifeblood, the Turk was, for the lack of any better—perhaps more eloquent—term, screwed.
Then again, the option of actually, god forbid, running out and buying coffee was always open, and yet, so unappealing at the moment. The only thing that did look appealing, actually, was the bed, and Reno found himself blessing Reeve with the most cordial of vilifications for the nth time that night. According to the red-head, his bloody bastard of an employer should have been lynched quite some time ago. That robotics-loving son of a bitch certainly knew that the Turk's latest assignment was going to be no walk in the park, but that didn't keep him from innocently putting Reno under the impression.
The red-head would still love to know how that man gathered up enough audacity to nonchalantly drop an 'easy surveillance mission' folder onto Reno's desk, while said surveillance mission involved trailing someone who could potentially be pinned for the murders of two Neo ShinRa executives.
Not that the identity of the person to be trailed particularly mattered to Reno, but all things considered, it looked as though the Turk would have to pay extra close attention to this nuisance of an individual. After all, having an assassin waltzing about free and taking out Neo ShinRa officials would certainly not do.
Sighing and affectionately rubbing slow circles at his temples, the red-head eventually decided to lock away his frustration because he sure as hell didn't have enough energy left to waste on keeping himself in that mindset. Besides, the Turk had yet to attempt driving, which would be a necessary step in attaining that blessed, blessed caffeine, so he wasn't about to risk an accident only to give himself the satisfaction of coming up with all sorts of ghastly homicide scenes starring Reeve as the victim.
As Reno found out soon, however, driving was going to be the least of his worries for the time being. He had to, after all, brave the elevator first. And to make matters worse, the Turk and said elevator weren't the best of friends.
To fully appreciate and understand the red-head's following actions, it would be beneficial to relay the back story for Reno's dysfunctional relationship with the ever unhelpful, aforementioned elevator. Why the Turk hadn't yet learned to just use the stairwell is a question well worth pondering over, but then again, considering Reno's potent laziness, perhaps actually making him walk up and down the stairs was asking for too much.
Though, really, how the red-head's laziness actually managed to convince him to accept the suffering inflicted upon him by that god forsaken piece of machinery is also a mystery covered in a thick layer of dust. One would think that a Turk would have stronger survival instincts.
Well, one would be wrong.
On numerous occasions, Reno's abused fingers have gotten themselves caught in the closing elevator doors. On more occasions than that, the Turk's clothes have gotten themselves caught, causing the red-head to throw out quite the amount of more or less baggy shirts and overly long pants. Almost always, the bloody piece of machinery managed to open its doors right when Reno was nonchalantly leaning on them, tipping the Turk's weight until he entered a most graceful decent on a journey to meet the ground. And, yes, never was the service of transportation from one floor to the next provided when Reno was running late.
So one could only imagine the Turk's surprise when after calling the elevator, the happy sound of its arrival echoed about the deserted hallway almost immediately. Indeed, that alerted Reno greatly. The doors then proceeded to open and obediently wait for the red-head to step inside, which downright frightened him. Carefully entering the deathtrap, Reno uncertainly pressed the first floor button, marveling at the closing doors that didn't inflict any pain on his fingers, the Turk's clothes remaining notably intact as well.
Making a hasty exit upon reaching the first floor, the read-head shot a few worried looks over his shoulder at the contraption, which, in turn, earned the Turk a confused, though mildly curious, glance from the receptionist. Said mild curiosity turned into downright surprise, of course, when Reno actually ventured up to the counter, conspiratorially leaning over it and towards the elderly gentlemen behind it.
"Do you believe in karma?"
If the older man found such an inquiry somewhat strange, he didn't show it.
"Yes, I guess I do."
Adopting a rather resigned air about him, Reno eventually nodded and straightened up to his customary, admittedly, not so straight, slouch.
"Think it'll come around to bite me in the ass?"
The query was delivered in the most pathetic of manners, only contradicted by the fact that while the red-head spoke, he nonchalantly snuck out a cigarette from the pocket of his pants, proceeding to light it approximately three feet away from a sign that strictly forbid smoking in the lobby. Needless to say, all the sympathy that the receptionist might have felt for the young man quickly evaporated.
"Yes, I think it will."
"Yeah, I think so too," Reno admitted.
No further small talk was attempted past that, and the elderly gentleman amusedly watched the Turk walk out onto the street. Turning away from the red-head eventually, however, the man glanced back at the legendary elevator. It was a futile effort, but the gentleman tried, nonetheless, to piece together what exactly about that elevator could turn Reno's musings in an almost pensive direction. As expected, no clear answer was forthcoming. In fact, the only explanation that seemed mildly plausible was that the Turk was one very eccentric individual, at best.
Said eccentric individual, meanwhile, found out that though the cold, night air did him some good in being able to concentrate, attaining focus was an unworthy cause because once Reno made himself comfortable in the driver's seat, the red-head finally remembered one very important detail: the convenience store he was about to drive to was a block down the street.
All jokes aside, a short walk never hurt anyone. Unless, of course, one happens to be Reno after a particularly long night of heavy drinking—pretty roads with lots of neon signs should not lead to dead end's, is the red-head's brilliant, and only, defense. No drinking involved, however, perhaps a promenade would have a calming effect on the Turk's frayed nerves. At least, one could hope. Consequent to that logic, Reno found himself outside yet again, shoving his car keys in his pocket, and starting to lethargically trek his way along the neat sidewalk.
Refreshed, pumped full of nicotine, and considerably happier, the Turk would come upon his destination within a matter of less than five minutes. The aforementioned destination, speaking of which, consisted of a small, yet undeniably useful, convenience store, which, for only god knows what reason, actually sported a trail of shopping carts up front. Having become a frequent customer due to the coffee fetish that he's developed over the years, Reno did, indeed, take note of the fact that there were, actually, exactly three shopping carts up front on any given day, which only lead to one very interesting question.
Why was the trail reduced to only two carts currently?
The dimensions of the ridiculously small store in question were certainly not something to brag about, and Reno could hardly think of how the missing shopping cart could possibly come in handy. Then again, the Turk's imagination was apparently not vivid enough to conjure up a picture quite as peculiar as the one he ran into upon entering the convenience store. Admittedly, however, to the red-head's defense, it would be difficult for any, even customarily imaginative, individual to justify this particular use of a shopping cart.
Considering that the object in question was purely made of welded metal, the fact that it could, apparently, comfortably substitute a bed was certainly mindboggling. Not that the picture itself was anything short of endearing.
The shopping accessory was parked in front of the checkout counter, bearing a sleeping, uncomfortably curled teenager within it, long legs, petite frame, and pale, smooth skin alerting Reno to the fact that the slumbering individual eccentric enough to find acceptable such sleeping arrangements was undeniably female.
'Female and very flexible,' the Turk had to note amusedly, his eyes gliding over the scenery from a relatively small pair of feet to the ridiculously large headband, which was ineffectively holding back uncooperative strands of silky, raven hair.
Overly long legs, bent at the knees, had the lower portion of them dangling limply off the edge of the shopping cart, clad in tan boots with longer laces than any sane individual would ever care to do up. The high rise of said boots came to a stop just below the knees, thin, black socks peeking up from under the canvas and making their way up to mid-thigh. Two white lines marking the end of the black material gave way to a stretch of pale skin, which was visible just up to the edge of the shorts. Said shorts, might as well be mentioned, were decorated by a number of different pouches and unidentifiable pieces of leather that could have been mistaken for belts, covering the very haphazardly done up button and zipper. A flash of skin followed up to a decorative top, a useless jumper slung over the girl's shoulders as well—not having any sleeves rendering the purposes of it somewhat obscure. The kid's bare arms were bent at the elbows and folded in her lap, decorated in an alerting amount of unnecessary bands and ribbons, leading to smooth shoulders, uncomfortably bent neck, and a sweet, calm face.
Rosy lips, sharply-defined cheekbones, large, closed eyes, and a veil of gently fluttering eyelashes certainly made for a striking set of features, if only the charm of it all wasn't so horribly lost on Reno due to one very trivial detail: he knew this girl.
And only to make matters worse, he knew this girl from a few meetings that didn't transpire under the most pleasant of circumstances.
That is, if one could call the play out of their double coincidence of wants, which included killing each other, at all pleasant.
Reno could have been wrong,—though he certainly wasn't—and yet, the red-head quickly became convinced that the peacefully slumbering wonder of an individual in the shopping cart was none other than the overly exuberant, overly energetic, overly sassy—to sum up, overly everything—Single White Rose of Wutai.
Karma is a bitch.
Jerry, the boy behind the counter who Reno came to regard as a sort of demigod when it came to providing the Turk with cigarettes and coffee, as well, was watching the sleeping girl with some amount of interest that was, as it seemed, the purely curious variety. The odd choice of pastime, needless to say, prompted the unasked question of 'why?' to hang heavily in the air. Unlike Jerry, however,—all wide-eyed befuddlement included—Reno was more than fairly certain that there was nothing random about the scene, though the Turk was also convinced he wouldn't like the logic behind the absurdity if he pushed hard enough to make the little brat spill.
But then, whether he'd like the logic or not was quickly becoming completely inconsequential, as Reno was, by that point, insanely curious.
The Turk was also rather curious about why exactly, despite all the incredulity pouring out of every pour in the boy's body, Jerry didn't, as of yet, make any move to jostle the ninja brat awake and somehow skipped the opportunity of questioning her strange attachment to the shopping cart before she fell asleep.
Aqua gaze, continuing to travel and skip from one teenager to the other, eventually settled on a black backpack, neatly placed to lean on the side of the occupied shopping accessory. All thoughts of voicing any inquiries in regards to Jerry's inactivity fled Reno's mind immediately, only to be substituted by an outward, lazy smirk, languidly quirking the right corner of the red-head's lips. Right at the front of the aforementioned backpack, amidst all the clips, buckles, and straps, the Turk's eyes caught a blinding glint sliding down one of the spikes of an unmistakably familiar weapon. Indeed, attached to the bag, with no particular amount of sturdiness for easy access, was the ninja's shuriken. Asleep though she was, the girl, apparently, carefully calculated an optimal placement for her bag beforehand, making it rather easy to grab her weapon at a moment's notice, if need be.
And, apparently, Jerry understood the idea behind the setup better than Reno would have thought possible.
Debating a few moments the most sensible course of action, given the situation at hand, Reno finally settled on quietly getting his coffee and cigarettes, hopefully finding himself back in his apartment with renewed energy within a minimal period of time. Then again, sensibility and Reno were never the best of friends,—in fact, they weren't at all acquainted—so the plan, name pending, was foiled before it was put in motion. Why? Because the Turk suddenly decided, god only knows for what reason, that the crumpled piece of chirpy yellow notebook paper, which he belatedly scouted loosely held in the girl's right hand, was looking peculiarly appealing—or, as appealing as a piece of chirpy yellow paper could possibly look to a grown man.
The obstacle of the cornea-damaging color aside, however, there must have been something written on that mockery of a note, and that's exactly what attracted Reno's attention.
Ever so slightly cautious not to startle the ninja into making good on the threat the presence of her weapon provided, the red-head extracted the object that held his interest from the girl's grasp, making damn sure not to snoop through it before attaining explicit permission.
The Turk was curious, not suicidal.
And, indeed, his caution was rewarded with a mild glare of ridiculously large, bleary eyes and the definite absence of broken bones and detached appendages.
Continuing the slow climb to a state of full wakefulness, the girl focused her eyes on the Turk a bit more intensely after a few skipped beats of completely silence, which made the red-head realize that until that moment, she didn't really recognize him.
"Oh, no," the kid managed eventually, sounding downright off put.
Reno couldn't help the roll of his eyes at the pathetic little whine. "Oh, the enthusiasm," he mocked lazily in turn, the innocent gesture of placing his hands in the pockets of his pants concealing the girl's note from view. "Ecstatic to see me, I take it?"
"Would you believe me if I said 'no?'"
The Turk snorted. "Only because your bluntness knows no bounds."
"I'm not blunt; I'm honest," the brat retorted childishly, two small hands going to meticulously rub the remnants of sleep from those huge eyes of hers.
"Brutally so."
Knowing full well that the red-head was just playing along, the teenager shot him a very scathing look, which he returned in a most peculiar manner that consisted of an overly satisfied smirk at irking her.
Surprisingly, it didn't take Reno long to persuade himself that his semi-peaceful existence had just taken a turn down a not-so desired path.
A/N: I really do hope you've enjoyed this chapter! For an opening, I attempted to make it as entertaining as possible, though I'm not all that certain whether I succeeded or not. Regardless, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the matter! :D And, yes, this story is mostly finished, approximately twenty chapters of it scattered in bits and pieces all over my hard drive. I apologize in advance if the updates might be a bit slow, but be assured that this story will be finished…because it already is…it's all a matter of editing and posting XD
Oh, yes, and if you have any questions, concerns, suggestions, want to whine about something, discuss something, bounce ideas, etc. Please don't be at all shy to contact me. That's why the cantact information's on my profile :)