It was cold, dark and silent in the Shin-Ra basement. No people chatting, no machines running, not even the sound of footsteps. All was still but it was accompanied by an inexplicably eerie atmosphere. The shadows left on various walls within the room formed distorted monstrous shapes. It was like this every night without a doubt. Security was lax due to arrogance. Who would steal from Shin-Ra, after all? Not only that, but this room was the storage for all of the Shin-Ra vehicles. Was there anyone crazy enough to break in?

Of course there was. A young boy of eighteen, with short brown hair and dark blue eyes crawled through the air vent. He slowly pulled the grate off of the end of the chute and placed it behind his crawling figure. He then carefully let himself down from the shoot before barrel rolling behind a car.

Rod crouched low behind the slick, black car. It was cold and almost completely dark in the garage. The room had a dull grey concrete floor. The walls were pure white, shiny and sleek like polished, 8-inch thick ice. Row after row of gleaming, top-of-the-line cars, motorbikes and other vehicles were parked in the room, making it look like the showroom of a dealership. The male slowly raised himself up off the ground. For a moment, he remained silent. He held his breath, positive that the noise he had made for no longer than a split second would reveal him. After a suitable amount of silence had passed, he continued. It was difficult to see, the only light in the room came from high mounted shutters on the wall, through which bright moonlight shone. This light bounced off of the chrome, steel and carbon fibre of the room, casting perfect squares of light on the concrete. The male was forced to block this light as he moved, casting a shadow on the brilliant white square. Rod couldn't hear a single thing, to what should have been his relief. Soon the eerie silence got to the male, he took a quick breath to calm his tense mind. Carefully, he stood up. He walked to a line of motorbikes, taking a moment to examine each one before finally choosing a large, sleek, jet black one at the end of the line. The male grinned. He quietly made his way to his prize.

Suddenly, a noise caught his attention. He stopped. He listened. There was nothing. Or was there? Rod's pulse quickened. He had to get out now. Throwing caution to the wind, he leapt onto the bike but before he had time to start the engine, bright white light erupted into the room. The male was blinded. The shock it gave him forced him to freeze. Out of the white, a cocky, drawling voice came alongside the cold feeling of metal against the back of the male's neck.

"Dont move, yo."

As Rod's vision slowly came back into focus, he cursed his carelessness. The voice spoke again.

"Turn around"

And the male did. He felt the cold metal ease off and came face to face with another male, not much older than himself. He was skinny, had messy, crimson red hair and, most importantly, had a handgun trained at the spot right between his eyes. Rod looked the male up and down. He was a Turk. A Shin-Ra Turk. The worst possible person to be caught by. Judging by their reputation, he was going to die tonight. But not without a fight.

Rod slowly raised his hands and got off the bike. He was suppressing some anger. He was angry at himself, for his foolish irrationality and the Turk, who grinned like a Cheshire Cat because the male was at his mercy. There was a moment of silence and Turk spoke.

"Hehe, guess AVALANCHE are using whatever desperate punks they can get their hands on. But, uh..." he broke off. The Turk used his gun to lift Rod's jacket up. "... you don't look like AVALANCHE."

He then lifted the gun to Rod's face and pressed the barrel against it. He forced Rod to turn his head to the side using the gun. The Turk tutted.

"Whadda shame, yo. You're kinda cute..."he said with a shrug. "In another lifetime ya coulda been a regular notch on the bedpost"

Rod snorted "I dont do guys"

"That's what they all say"

Then, Rod quickly kicked the gun of the Turk's hand and turned on his heel. However, that redhead was a step ahead of him and Rod soon felt the tip of the Turk's shoe collide with his ribs, sending Rod to the ground.

Rod hit the cold metal floor, his back struck some sort of work bench and he saw a few spanners and wrenches hit the ground with a loud clang. He could hear the cocky drawl once more.

"Not bad, kid. I admire the effort, but ya gotta understand that little runts like you don't steal from Shin-Ra, yo."

Rod growled in response. He quickly pulled himself up, regretting it as soon as he felt the metallic taste of his blood rising from his throat and into his mouth. Perhaps he had underestimated the Shin-Ra dog who now stood a few feet away from him. The redhead came at him in a rush. His mind racing, Rod grabbed one of the spanners and threw it as hard as he could. The red head neatly dodged but it made him skid to a halt, he arched an eyebrow at the young male, no doubt mocking his reckless and childish approach. Rod sighed irritably, for a Turk, this guy wasn't nearly as intimitating as he should have been.

"I thought you mighta been of those tough "street punks" but... I guess you're just a wannabe thief who got way in over his head, yo." the red head said, chuckling. Rod's temper flared, he grabbed some metal piping that was lying on the workbench and dashed forward, slamming the silver bar into the Turk's face. The shock that was on the Turk's face stayed there for a spilt second before he spun around, just in time to grab Rod's fist as he attempted to punch the red head. The Turk stuck his tongue out.

"And now I'm bored..." he shrugged before drawing a second gun and shooting the young male in the leg. The Turk then kicked Rod backwards and he fell, hitting his head off of the floor. Rod looked up to see the cocky Turk's grin before black started to creep around his vision, blurring it. Despite the sound being muffled, he managed to hear the Turk speak slightly.

"Always bring an extra gun, Runt. Let's hope you'll use that someday."

And that was it.

Rod felt himself lapse into unconsciousness seconds later.

Blur was all that met Rod's eyes when he stirred. He was surprised at his sudden weakness. He always won. Always. He had become quite angry and almost ashamed at himself. How had he been beaten so easily? That Turk was crazy tough. Rod sighed to himself. He was stupid enough to take on Shin-Ra, he deserved whatever punishment was coming this way. It was with a sudden shard pain in his leg that Rod forced his eyes open and sat bolt upright. He would have moved further but felt a grip on his wrist. Rod looked down at his leg, it bandaged and tied to a splint. He was sitting in a hallway of some sort, a short staircase jutted out from the wall opposite him. The walls were lined with brilliant white tiles as were the floors. He looked around at his arm. His wrist was handcuffed to the railing of another staircase. Rod tugged at the cuffs for a few minutes before conciding defeat. He leaned back against the railing, waiting for a security team to come along and shoot him for treason. After a few moments, Rod heard a loud bang coming from a door to his right. He stared at the door. He could hear footsteps coming closer and closer to where he was sitting, loud, storming, angry footsteps. The door flew open and in stormed... the Turk.

He stomped across the hallway and grabbed Rod's handcuffs, unlocking them and whipping them off. He then grabbed Rod by the collar of his jacket and pulled him upright. Rod, unable to stand on his leg, had no choice but to let himself get dragged. The Turk stomped angrily down the corridor, muttering all the way to a room a few doors from the end. He pushed the door open and threw Rod through the door and face down onto the ground.

"Reno, you may leave"

"Sir..." came the now rather vexed voice of the Turk Rod had fought. Rod heard the door close.

"I can see he wasn't easy on you"

With some difficulty, Rod raised his head. Behind a large mahogany desk stood a man. He was at least six foot tall, with dark brown hair and wearing a sort of worn expression. Rod could tell; this man had seen many battles and more than a few losses. He had the Turk uniform on too. Rod's stomach turned, he was in serious trouble. The man spoke again.

"I think, we can use someone like you."