Summary: Reno and paperwork...two things that just don't get along with each other. Our favorite redheaded Turk is left behind at the office to finish his report that he'd put off doing while the other Turks head out for happy hour. How will Reno summarize one of the strangest and most wonderful experiences he's ever witnessed in Midgar, and make it in time for happy hour at Seventh Heaven? Borderline crack!fic, silly one-shot.
Usual disclaimer: Don't own FFVII, wish I did. This is written for fun and not profit.
[Subtitled: DO YA LIKE WAFFLES?]
Reno had put it off long enough - the dreaded field reports he was required to file for the day. The Turk had only one incident report left to complete, and then he'd be done for the day. The only problem was, Reno had futzed around all afternoon procrastinating, focusing on anything but his paperwork. Having the attention span of a Banoran fruit fly did not help matters, either.
He'd first tried bribing Rude, then Elena to do it for him. However, even Reno's offer of unlimited beer and spicy chocobo wings didn't appeal to them. It was either that, or perhaps Reno's fellow Turks were starting to get sick of his shit and show him some tough love.
"But I want to go home!" Reno grumbled, kicking at the legs of his desk like an irritated toddler having a tantrum. "This is gonna take fucking forever - "
"Maybe you should have thought of that earlier, when you had your nose stuck in that pin-up magazine all afternoon," Rude said smoothly, nodding to Elena. "Let's go, Elena. Happy hour at Seventh Heaven starts in five minutes."
"Great! I'll buy the first round for us, Rude!" Elena offered excitedly, ignoring the dagger-like glares from Reno. He opened his laptop, booted it up, and then jammed flash drive into the USB slot a little more forcefully than needed. Reno was still annoyed at the situation, and there was no way in hell he was going to be subtle about it. Even if it was his own fault for procrastinating all afternoon on his paperwork.
"Fuckers," Reno growled. "You refuse my generous offer of food and booze, when you're already planning to go to happy hour. I hate you both. So goddamned much."
"No…you don't really hate us, Reno," Elena said sweetly, snickering. "It's just that we're just sick of doing reports for you, Reno. Really...it's only one. Just stop procrastinating and do it! Maybe you'll even finish up in time for happy hour!"
"I doubt it," Reno replied sourly, narrowing his eyes into flinty slits, glaring at the two. "I don't even know where to begin, yo."
"Start at the beginning," Tseng advised, suddenly stepping out of his office. He unplugged the coffee pot and began turning off the lights one by one, save for the ones in Reno and Rude's office. "And don't embellish," the Director cautioned him. "That's probably why it takes you so long, Reno. Just the facts, will be fine."
"But - today's...incident," Reno began, and shook his head, bewildered. "Accident...or whatever you want to call it. Wasn't exactly run-of-the-mill. Wasn't really a security breach either. Why did they call in the Turks, anyway?"
Tseng shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "I suppose Rufus wanted to make sure people wouldn't start rioting in the streets, given the situation."
"So...crowd control?" Reno looked at Tseng expectantly. The Wutaiian smiled serenely at him.
"I'm not going to write it for you either, Reno, so don't ask," Tseng replied. "Just...try to keep it simple, please?"
"Boss, you coming with?" Rude asked Tseng, who nodded at him. Reno groaned audibly, kicking at his desk again.
"Oh, ain't that just fucking great!" Reno sputtered. "You lot all get to go to happy hour, leaving me behind to struggle over this stupid bullshit report!"
"Get it done, Reno," Tseng said firmly. "You're welcome to join us at the bar later, of course - once you've finished."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah...fine, fine, fine," Reno grumbled, still glaring. "Just get the hell out of here. I'll see you later." The other three Turks took their leave of Reno, waving at him as they departed, acting a little too happy for Reno's liking.
The door shut, and Reno flipped the bird with both hands, muttering expletives under his breath. "Fucking...whatever. All right," the Turk said to himself, a steely and determined look upon his face. "Let's do this."
It was a standardized Shinra form, and the first several sections were self-explanatory and simple enough. Date and time of incident, persons involved, property damage (if any)…
His fingers hovering above his keyboard Reno began to laugh at that last phrase, snorting stupidly. "Oh, Gaia…property damage…!" He stood from his chair and strode over to the row of narrow windows, cracking one open just slightly. The evening breeze was cool and pleasant, and as it blew through the open window, it carried with it the unmistakable scent of maple syrup.
Reno inhaled deeply, smiling widely. "Ahh…" He stood there for a few minutes, just grinning and taking in the scent, surprised it carried up so far. Striding back to his desk after a few moments of rumination, Reno took a seat at his laptop once again, fingers poised above the keys -determined to get this damned report done once and for all.
Tabbing through the various fields and filling in the required information, Reno finally came to the one part that always tripped him up - the narrative portion.
Describe in your own words the nature of the incident and steps taken to contain or resolve it
"Ah, hell," Reno muttered, pushing his goggles further up on top of his head. "Well...let's see." His thoughts began to wander, and Reno fervently wished he had Rude's skill at keeping reports clear, concise, and to the point. Rude's reports, much like Tseng's, were generally perfect; his narrative read like verbal machine-gun fire. Quick, effective, and efficient wording. Elena's reports were a bit more detailed than either Rude's or Tseng's, but she managed to fit everything into the little box without going on and on endlessly.
Which was exactly Reno's problem. He could never quite grasp how to pare down his wording, to sum things up in just a few short paragraphs. Additionally, Reno seemed to do his best thinking at night for this type of thing - but he had better things to do after hours than a pile of reports, and the Turk had always steadfastly refused to take paperwork home with him.
So here he sat, giving the glowing laptop screen a death glare as he tried to pull a quick and concise narrative from his thoughts, even though he had enough material floating around in his brain to write a short novella.
Reno cracked his knuckles and groaned, glancing at the clock. Shit. Happy hour's already begun. I'm gonna miss out on free appetizers if I don't get this damned thing done soon. He finally began to type, leaning forward in his chair, scowling at the words as they appeared on his screen.
At 0900 hours, Rude and I were dispatched to Edge Center at President Rufus Shinra's request. There was an overturned tractor trailer truck that failed to make a turn and jackknifed, crashing into a warehouse. No injuries reported. Property damage to truck and warehouse (obviously) noted. Big hole in warehouse.
A crowd of onlookers gathered, and Rude and I managed to keep them away from the scene of the accident. The truck driver was extricated by emergency personnel, please see their report for details on driver's condition. When I spoke to him he seemed shaken but no signs of physical injuries.
At 0930 hours, Rude and I became aware of a sticky, sweet-smelling goo pooling around our feet, pouring out of the truck. Bystanders got curious and came closer to the scene despite our warnings to stay back since we didn't know yet if it was toxic. Rude and I employed the usual crowd control protocol of yelling and threats of violence. This didn't stop a few kids, though, who slipped through the crowd and began yelling something about maple syrup.
Upon further investigation, it was determined that the cargo carried by the truck was a shipment of 500 gallons of maple syrup and 600 boxes of frozen waffles. The mess was cleared by Edge DPW, and the Turks finally got the crowd to disperse.
Reno folded his hands beneath his chin, re-reading over his narrative, smiling to himself. He was very close to finished now; the box that contained the narrative portion was nearly full with what Reno had already written, but there was room for just a bit more.
The Turk could hear Tseng's admonitions in his head: Don't embellish. Don't include personal remarks.
"I don't care," Reno muttered to himself as he continued. "This is too awesome not to write down somewhere. Man, I want to tell the world." Fingers clacked away at the keys as he added just two more sentences to his report:
As a special thank you to the Turks for our help, Rude and I were given a lifetime supply of waffles and maple syrup. This has been the greatest day of my life.
With a satisfied grin, Reno saved his document, hit 'send' so that Tseng would receive his copy, and shut down his laptop for the day.
Free waffles and syrup...for the rest of my life! Reno thought happily as he made his way through Edge square toward the bar. The pavement was still slightly sticky from where the flood of maple syrup ran through, and Reno's boots stuck to the cobblestones as he walked along, but he did not care.
Waffles were a godly thing in the Turk's mind, and though he felt a little badly for the truck driver who'd crashed, he also felt a guilty sort of joy that it had happened in the first place - because it ultimately led to a lifetime supply of one of his favorite foods on the Planet.