$ A Token of Love $
The slums are not a place for those with weak hearts, or those who are afraid to get their hands dirty.
This is not why we were surprised to see the Turks in sector two.
We were surprised because the Turks, with their starched navy suits and their bleached-clean records, seldom lowered themselves to the level of the common folk. Things are different now, of course- but then the Turks were refined, elite, on a totally different level than the rest of Gaia. And the slums, choked, congested, the streets about as safe as yelling boo at a sleeping pit bull- they were the last place we expected to see the Turks.
Not that they had never been here before- they had been. I was six at the time, and didn't understand much except for the fact that three men in blue suits showed up at the inn one night, and the next morning Angus Ruglia was crying because his Da was gone. Two days later, his mother left town with him and his sister, and that was the last we heard of Angus Ruglia.
Still, that was a long time ago, and not much more than excitement was felt among my crowd- the arcade kids- when Melba Alvia waltzed into the game room, declaring that her mother (the owner of the bar) had just served a sloppy blue clad red head with an electric nightstick three beers and a whiskey. The alcohol was of very little interest to us, eleven-year-old kids as we were, but the man at the bar was of much more importance. Blue suit equals, Turk. Sloppy red head Turk, equals Reno. Reno with a weapon, equals trouble- at least, for the adults. For the children such as me, it was moderately interesting- but it certainly couldn't hold up against Space Invaders II: The Return of the Space Invaders.
"Meh... heh... heh... he- darn!" Jessie shook her head and leaned against the gamebox, folding her arms. "There I go. No more quarters. You gonna give it a go, Marianne?"
Marianne shook her head. "Naw. I en't any good at the one. Ellie?"
"No. No point. I'm saving my quarters." I grinned and jingled them in my pocket. "I heard that Yamcha Dim Sum III is coming out in July."
"No way I'm waiting that long," yawned Marianne. "I'm bored already, neways. You guys still wanna hang out here, or we gonna go to SOLDIER headquarters?"
"Yeah! Let's go!" Jessie agreed, and we slipped out of the crowded arcade into the freedom of the night.
We weren't actually going to SOLDIER headquarters- that was located above the plate, out of the slums. Our SOLDIER headquarters was a little hide-away Marianne had found, an abandoned alleyway fire escape covered on three sides by canvas curtains. It was the perfect place for three little girls- a refuge where we could share our hopes, our dreams, the fantasies that drew us out of the slums on the wings of ambition, if just for a few minutes. So many adventures were realized there, adventures that faded into stardust, forgotten, whenever we left.
But there would be no wings and no stardust tonight- tonight we had a much more realistic subject.
The Turks were in sector two.
After much (well, a few minutes) thoughtful conversation on why the Turks were here and what they wanted (Marianne thought they heard about Space Invaders II, but Jessie and I found this unlikely), Marianne stretched. "We need snacks. Food for thought. Hold on." She slipped out of SOLDIER headquarters into the dark street, blonde hair whispering along behind her. Jessie and I waited patiently until we heard the familiar "get back here, you little thief!" and Marianne slipped, glowing and triumphant, back into SOLDIER headquarters with two bags of those sticky sugary hard candies called chicken bones in her slender white hands. The dubious method Marianne had used to acquire the raw calories, however, was of very little interest to me and Jessie, whom promptly ripped open the bag and passed it around.
"Why are they called chicken bones, anyway?" asked Jessie, speaking through a mouthful. "I mean, who'd want to eat chicken bones?"
"Whoever invented them was probably drunk at the time," said Marianne wisely.
"And how do you reach that conclusion?"
"Well, think about it. He named a candy chicken bones."
"Yeah, definitely drunk," agreed Jessie. "Either that or they had a Turk leaning over their shoulder." We were none of us very clear on what she meant by this, but it was funny so we laughed anyway.
"Once I got a real chicken bone caught in my throat. I almost died." Declared Marianne.
"That's not exactly something to be proud of, May-may," I laughed.
When I stopped laughing, however, I realized something was wrong. There was dead silence in the alleyway- you could have heard a cricket chirping, if there had been any crickets in the slums around to chirp. The usual noise of the adjoining street- crying children, yelling merchants, gossipy old geezers- had faded away until you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. Then we heard a voice.
"Excuse me, you said this was how much?"
It was obviously some customer complaining to a shopkeeper, but that didn't explain the dead silence that allowed us, several yards away, to hear it, or the cool, confident, satisfied tone the question had been asked in.
I exchanged glances with Jessie and Marianne and, each of us cued by the confusion in the other two girls' eyes, we silently slid out of SOLDIER headquarters and along the alley until we could peek out from around the brick wall and figure out what was happening. It probably would have looked funny to anyone watching us- three little head- and- shoulders popping out from behind the alleyway by the funeral home. But no one laughed, because no one was watching- everyone had his or her eyes trained on the scene lit by a streetlamp like some ominous spotlight. The Turk Tseng stood in the middle of a bare patch- everyone had backed away from him- with a young news-crier thrown petrified to the ground at his feet.
"I, er, I said it was two- that it was, free, Mr. Tseng, sir," gulped the horrified little boy.
"Did you, now?"
"That's not what I heard."
These comments came from Rude and Reno, whom I looked for and was able to make out in the shadows by Tseng's side. The paperboy looked so terrified that he grabbed a newspaper, shoved it at Tseng and ran like the hounds of hell were chasing him.
Tseng looked at the headline and calmly threw the paper to the ground. "OK. Let's go."
And then, just as they began to walk and people cautiously began to speak again, Jessie stooped, picked up a stone and hurled it at Tseng. It hit him square in the back.
Tseng turned around slowly as the crowds went quiet again, his eyes travelling over the people on the street. "Who. Threw. That." Waiting a second, but getting no answer, he turned to the Turk beside him and nodded. "Rude?"
Rude gave a half-salute and walked directly into our alleyway. We all shrank back, horrified, but he paid no attention to either Marianne or I, instead grabbing Jessie hard by the shoulder and half-marching, half-dragging her back to Tseng.
Tseng smiled slightly and nodded to Rude, whom fell back behind him again, beside Reno. Jessie looked scared out of her wits as Marianne and I exchanged agonized glances. A chicken bone dropped out of Marianne's mouth, which would have been funny if the situation hadn't been so dangerous.
Without warning Tseng lashed out at Jessie, grabbing the poor girl by the collar and lifting her struggling into the air.
"I've killed people for less than that." Tseng said.
"He-help!" Jessie said.
"Reno?" Tseng said.
Reno stepped forward, brandishing his nightstick. And that's when I made my move. Feeling almost as though it was someone else acting, I darted in front of Tseng and ordered, "Let her go."
Tseng looked at me as though I was a rebellious piece of bubble gum on his shoe. "What?"
I spit my remaining chicken bones at his feet. "Let. Her. Go. You big jerk."
Tseng seemed still unbelieving. "What did you just say to me? You obviously don't realize who you're talking to."
"I am talking to Mister Jordan Tseng, leader of the Turks, soldier of Shinra, major-league asshole who won't let go of my best friend."
Tseng didn't move. He looked at me. I looked at him. Then he slowly lowered Jessie to the ground. "Take the brat kid and go. GO!"
I didn't move, my rage still unbroken, until Jessie tugged my arm. Then my courage failed me and I darted away with her and Marianne, back into the safety of the dark.
"Thanks, Ellie," Jessie breathed when we had gotten far away enough to feel safe. "I thought he was going to kill me!"
"I couldn't let that happen. We're best friends!" I whispered, and we hugged tightly.
"Man, I couldn't believe you!" declared Marianne when we were finished. "Ellie, your eyes looked all different- they went all like fire, sort of. You looked like a soldier, girl!"
The rest of the evening was spent in the arcade, Jessie and Marianne's descriptions of my heroic act getting progressively more creative as they recounted it over and over to the other kids. I felt proud of myself from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, a feeling that didn't leave me until I went to bed.
In the middle of the night, I woke up with a strange hand covering my mouth.