Rude was parked outside the gates of the the state penitentiary. He got out of his car - a rather worn-looking large black sedan, riddled with bullet holes, and shut the door behind him. Rude leaned back against the door, arms folded against his chest. He glanced down at his watch, smirking as he noted the time. Leave it to Reno to be running late, even on his release date, Rude thought wryly.
The Turk flexed his fists inside his familar leather gloves, and waited, watching the guards up in the tower staring down at him. Rude stared up at them, arms still folded, face in a grimace. Finally, one guard that had been trying to stare Rude down, looked away. Rude snorted in amusement.
Damn it Reno, come on, Rude thought. It shouldn't be taking this long, should it? He sighed impatiently, and toed the rocky ground, kicking up a small dust cloud.
Then again...this is Reno we're talking about. Of course it's taking this long.
"Stand behind the white line, sir!" barked the corrections officer, who was sitting behind a large desk facing Reno. The Turk was flanked on either side by two prison guards, who pulled him back behind the ubiquitous white line painted on the concrete floor.
All of Reno's wordly possessions that he'd had when he was incarcerated, were confined to a small cardboard box; the Turk was itching to get his hands back on those few things he had left that were his. He was, of course, also anxious to get out; getting his items back would be one more step toward stepping out of those prison gates. Hopefully, never to return, he thought. His mind wandered back over the unforunate sequence of events that had led to his imprisonment; being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and without his Turk ID card. And nobody around to fucking vouch for me, either, he recalled bitterly. I thought Turks were above the law...guess my luck with that finally ran out.
Even President Shinra couldn't save Reno from incarceration either, at the sentencing hearing. He did, however, plead with the judge for some leniency, stating how Reno had been a loyal employee of the highest caliber; but the judge had not been moved to pardon Reno. "I'll reduce his sentence to six months, but that's the best I can do. As for you, young man," the judge had told Reno sternly, "It's time to stop thinking you're above the law just because you're a Turk."
"But it wasn't me!" Reno protested, futilely. The Turks' lawyer shushed him, whispering that he should just quit while he's ahead, and "be grateful you're only getting six months for charges of grand theft auto and soliciting a prostitute."
"I will admit to the thing with the car," Reno had muttered to his attorney, after the trial. "But I did not pick up a prostitute! That was Rufus, not me!" His attorney appealed the sentence, but that fell flat when the case was thrown out of court; Reno had no choice but to serve his time. "Be glad it wasn't for longer than six months," his attorney had cautioned him. "Especially after your little outburst in the courtroom - you're lucky you didn't thrown out for contempt!"
Reno sighed, and resigned himself to his fate. Six months won't be so bad, he reasoned. I won't miss much in six months, right? Right, he told himself firmly.
Six months later, Reno was about to be a free man. He was still slightly bitter toward Rufus for letting him take the fall, but wasn't surprised in the least; it was just how Rufus Shinra was. Smooth like Teflon, nothing stuck to the man; particularly, charges of solicitation.
The corrections officer had pulled a sheet of paper out - apparently a written inventory, of everything contained in the cardboard box. He read from it, as he compared what was on the list, to what he actually saw in the box.
"One EMR issued by Shinra, Inc. One pair of pants, black. One dress shirt, white. One suit jacket, black. One pair of aviator goggles," the corrections officer continued.
Finally gonna get out of these fugly prison blues, Reno thought. Thank fucking Gaia.
"...one tube of SexyGlide lubricant, used..." Reno snickered, which was met with a glare from the corrections officer. "One Mega-Wang condom, unused..." The corrections officer then made a face, and used a ballpoint pen to fish out the next item. "One...soiled."
"Oops," Reno muttered, grinning. The corrections officer did not appear amused, as he flung the used condom into the trash basket.
"One pack of cigarettes, opened. One bottle of Mideel single malt whiskey, empty...one strand of 'Pearl Necklace' brand anal beads...one Wutaian made penis-enlarging pump..." the officer droned on, listing the rest of Reno's inventory.
"Wait a minute!" Reno interrupted the officer's litany. "That last one, that is NOT mine! It's Rufus's!"
"Has your name on it," the officer commented sourly, smirking. "And, fifty-three gil. Sign here, please."
Sighing, Reno leaned forward at a ridiculous angle - gotta stay behind the white fucking line, he thought, smirking - and signed the form where indicated.
About an hour had gone by since Rude had parked the car outside the state pen. His coffee was long gone, and - even though Rude didn't smoke, he thought that he might actually have a cigarette while he was waiting, so bored out of his skull was he.
This is fucking ridiculous. Maybe I should go back to the donut shop for another coffee, and come back later - Rude had barely finished his thought when he heard the sound of the prison gates opening. There, backlit by the morning sun, was the unmistakable silhouette of Reno, shaggy red mane looking every bit like a ring of fire circling his head. He walked slowly toward Rude, who stood there unflinching. Reno set down the box containing his items on the hood of the car, and regarded Rude for a few moments, quietly. He broke out into a big grin as he grabbed Rude in a bear hug, slapping him on the back. "I'm out, partner!" he crowed cheerfully. "Free at last. Let's go get some breakfast."
Reno grabbed the cardboard box from the hood, and walked around to the back of the car. "Open the trunk, yo," he commanded Rude. Reno frowned suddenly, as he stared at the car, almost as if really seeing it for the first time. "Wait a minute," he muttered, as Rude popped open the trunk. "I thought...you were picking me up in my car. Is this your car?"
"Uh...no," Rude murmured, avoiding Reno's stare as he quickly slid into the driver's seat. Reno placed his box in the trunk and slammed it shut, then ran around to the passenger door, getting into his seat quickly. "What was that? This isn't your car? Then...whose car is it? It's a piece of shit," he said, snickering, as he got a cigarette out and placed it in his mouth. Reno bent down slightly, squinting as he looked for the cigarette lighter.
"No," Rude replied calmly. He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead as he drove away from the prison. "This...is your car."
"My car?" Reno thundered. He glared at Rude, who stubbornly refused to look at Reno. Rude coughed quietly, but did not respond.
"What do you mean, this is my car?" Reno continued. "Partner? Explain. Where's my goddamned Mustang? Fucking cigarette lighter ain't working in this shitbox on wheels, what the fuck!" he complained.
"Well," Rude began, coughing quietly again. "You remember...how you left me your keys?"
"Yes," Reno replied coldly. "Obviously, that was a mistake. Just...out with it, Rude. WHAT happened to my FUCKING CAR!" he bellowed.
"Calm down. It was...involved in a chase," Rude explained. "I took it out one weekend - like you told me to, just drive it around every once in a while - and...we ended being chased by some goons, and we wrecked."
"Wait a minute," Reno interrupted. "We? Who's 'we'?"
Rude sighed heavily before replying. "Me...and Vincent Valentine."
Reno laughed mirthlessly. "You and Count Dracula? What the fuck you doing hanging out with him?"
This time, Rude finally looked over at Reno, a murderous expression on his face. "Vincent and I," he said slowly, voice dripping with irritation, "are dating."
Reno laughed out loud. "No shit!" he exclaimed, grinning. "So...what else did I miss when I was in the pen?"
"Um...you really don't want to know," Rude murmured. "Let's just get some breakfast," he said, changing the subject. "I'll...tell you later."
"You're not telling me something," Reno said accusingly. "Out with it, partner. Now," he demanded.
"I just want to eat something first," Rude said, ignoring Reno's question. "Let's go to the Bluebell Diner. They make a good eggs benedict..."
"Fuck your eggs benedict, Rude!" Reno shouted irritably. "Tell me what else happened!"
They were now turning onto the highway, and Rude floored it. "Do you like this car?" he said, changing the subject again. "I'm...really sorry about your Mustang, Reno. But this is a GREAT car. I got it at a police auction. V8 engine, it's got more horsepower than your Mustang did...lots of leg room, big backseat..."
"Don't even tell me what you and Vlad the Impaler did in the backseat of MY CAR!" Reno moaned. "Rude," he said testily, "you are avoiding my question. Answer me, damn it."
Rude flinched; he really, really did not want to tell this to Reno. Telling him about his beloved car was actually easier, oddly enough. Might as well spit it out, he thought. "Cloud went back to Tifa," he blurted.
"What!" Reno howled in disbelief. "I don't fucking believe this shit. He said he'd wait for me!"
"I guess he got horny," Rude replied, regretting his choice of words as soon as they were out. "Oooh...sorry. Didn't mean for that to sound so...harsh."
"Thanks a lot, old friend," Reno said bitterly. "That was uncalled for, yo. I know...Cloud and I had our ups and downs, and it was kind of on and off relationship - but I thought he gave a shit, you know? For fuck's sake. That fucking asshole!"
"If it's any consolation," Rude commented, "I don't think he's entirely happy with her."
"Good," Reno snapped. "I hope he's fucking miserable, that chocobo-headed fucktard. Rude, how much further?"
"Almost there," Rude replied. Rude jerked the wheel to the right as he nearly missed the exit to the diner; the car went slightly airborne, then landed clunkily on the front wheels, bouncing right back up. "Good fucking shocks on this thing," Rude commented admiringly, stroking the dashboard lightly with his gloved hand.
"I'm glad you love my piece of shit car so much, Rude," Reno retorted. "Why don't you just marry the car, then you and Valentine can fuck in the backseat all you want." He took one last drag on his cigarette, then threw the spent cigarette butt out the window; he immediately took out another one, lighting it with his Zippo.
A few blocks later, they finally reached the diner, which Rude overshot slightly. He jerked the wheel sharply, making the car do a 360-degree turn, and nearly took out the cigarette machine in front of the door as he spun around. Rude slammed the transmission into park, and coolly exited the vehicle, with Reno following suit.
"So, partner...do you...like the car?" Rude asked hesitantly.
Reno paused for a moment as he took a long drag on his cigarette. "Fix the cigarette lighter," he replied, throwing his cigarette butt to the ground, and stubbing it out with his foot.