-1Disclaimer: I do not own ShinRa, the Turks, Final Fantasy VII, or in fact, anything to do with Square Enix/Square Soft. As such, all characters and locations belong to them.
NOTE: This is being written for and as a result, it probably contains mistakes that I, at the moment, do not have the time to correct. So, if you spot any, or have any general concrit, tell me politely and I will fix them once I have finished NaNo. It will be updated when I remember/have time, and it will be long, and very ongoing. Thank you.
::1;;One of those that begin
Why the hell do people think that they're the only people who change? The only ones able to change opinions, viewpoints, personalities, attitudes, or what have you? They always act so surprised when they realise that someone else has been able to change. Never understood what's up with that, y'know. It's incredibly fucking annoying.
The younger of the two men sat in the office appeared to be in a mental state that was fighting nervousness, and disinterest. How that exactly worked, the young man wasn't sure, but either way, the lengthy instruction he was receiving meant that he was sat, listening to a person speak for what was quite possibly the longest he had done so, in years. Resisting the urge to sigh, he braved a glance around the room. From what he knew of the elder, it seemed to suit him perfectly; it was neat, without being overly so, and it had all the belongings in it that he would, within reason, need, without being over the top. It wasn't a large room, but neither was it small. It just… was. An easily forgettable room, if he were perfectly honest, except for the man that claimed it as his own.
His blue-green eyes flickered back to this man as he heard his name spoke. His lack of attention had been noticed. Unable to stop a small smirk from appearing across his lips, he answered, "Yeah, boss?" He was sure that Veld would be completely aware of his somewhat short attention span when it came to formal meetings such as these, especially, when for the most part, they contained no important information of any kind. He just couldn't help it; He'd tried to work on it. And failed. Rather spectacularly, he might add.
"If you'd mind removing yourself from your own thoughts for at least one moment, you might be interested in meeting your partner," Veld – his boss – replied dryly, struggling to find the purpose in holding this meeting with the new employee. He had been scouted several years prior, and had finished ShinRa Military Training Academy very successfully, mind for a few disciplinary faults. Those, Veld hoped, could be ironed out – he had, at least finally managed to work out how to iron clothes, after all. He stood up, gesturing to the younger red-head that he should follow suit, and started to walk towards the door of his office.
Looking back once, he noted with some vague amusement that the red head looked distinctly uncomfortable in the suit. It had been, to Veld's surprise, worn to the dress code with complete compliance, which was a far cry away from what he had heard about the recruit whilst going through training. Indeed, besides the complete lack of interest that the young man had held in what he supposed to have been listening to, Veld had seen little signs of the unorthodox man he had been warned of.
Opening the oak door, he held it ajar for the other, taller man, before stepping ahead of him into the corridor. The red-head, for his part, was trying his damndest to be what he had been told he should be; he didn't want to have finished that godforsaken training only to be thrown out on his arse because, after everything, they realised that he wasn't what they needed in a Turk. As a result, he had taken special care that morning to present himself in an orderly fashion, to speak in a far more standard way than he was used to, and, most importantly, to be as polite as possible. It was, as far as he could see, a lot more hassle than it was really worth. He wasn't quite sure how much longer it would last. Also, the tucked in shirt was really beginning to annoy him – it was just so large. Did no-one expect that tall people might also be irritatingly skinny? Never once had he owned a pair of clothes that had fitted him just so. And this uniform wasn't the slightest bit different.
Veld led him inside a room, which, apart from a few items here and there, and a distinct lack of paperwork, looked exactly the same as the room they had come from. This, the young Turk decided, was what was wrong with the building; everything looked the same. The employees looked the same, the rooms looked the same… He frowned to himself. Actually, that was all he could think of that looked the same, but it covered most things, he figured. Suddenly becoming aware of the fact that Veld was in fact talking, he turned his attention to him, before it was taken by a Very Large Man.
Red eyebrows rose at the sight of him, and the corners of his lips tugged as he fought the desire to grin.
"Rude, this," Veld gestured behind him, "Is your assigned partner, Reno. He's slightly newer than yourself; you should show him some basic things, and then I wish for you both to patrol Sector 8." After he had finished this small speech, Veld left, leaving the two alone. Reno, the red-head, could not help but wonder why Rude had not been introduced to himself. Of course, there was a chance he had been told his name only moments before, but... He had been distracted by other, more interesting things.
Tilting his head to one side, he studied the man for a moment. The other had no hair – probably shaved - he noted. He was big. Very big. It wasn't fat, far from it, in fact, unlike Heidegger, whom he had had the misfortune of meeting on several occasions. It was, simply put, a hell of a lot of muscle.
"So, you're Rude, hmm? Nice to meet ya," Reno spoke, breaking the silence, and holding his hand out. Rude stared at the outstretched arm for a moment, before shaking hands, and muttering only a grunt in reply. Frowning at the less than polite reply, Reno wandered around the office, nosily peering at various objects before he came to what appeared to be an empty desk. "This mine?" He asked, pointing at it. It was devoid of anything even remotely personal, which would, in most other professions denote it as a an empty desk, but here… Reno couldn't be one-hundred percent sure.
Rude nodded, before returning to his own desk, and sitting down. For a moment, he appeared to be on the verge of speaking, before paying firm attention to a piece of paperwork. Reno sighed loudly. This bloke could be at least a little more chatty, he mused. "So, what're the basic things boss-man was on about you showin' me, then?" He probed, attempting to get the other to say something.
Rude raised his head towards Reno, studying the lanky redhead. He seemed… Irritating, to say the least. He could have at least learnt to speak properly, Rude decided, before replying briefly. "I'm to show you what is done with paperwork, and where certain pieces of equipment are."
Emotionless. That was how he seemed. Scratching his head, Reno sauntered back over to Rude, perching on the edge of his desk, causing the other to, Reno presumed, glare at him – or something similar. Reno couldn't tell, due to the fact that he was wearing sunglasses - why he was wearing them indoors, Reno didn't have a clue. Either way, Reno had succeeded in getting the others attention. "Right, 'k, so you gotta do that. Plan on doing it any time soon? 'Cause, y'know, I got the impression that Veld wanted it done kinda quickly, and then we go and do somethin' a little more active, right." He replied, staring at the other Turk blankly, looking for any sign of …Well, anything.
"I will do it when I have finished this," Rude tapped the piece of paper with his pen. "Paperwork is just as vital. If it's not completed, you will be out of a job." He paused, before adding, "And we both know how that will end up." Reno sighed, and slipped off the desk, rolling his eyes. He figured that had Rude been the smirking type, that would have been an excellent moment to have done so. Apparently, he wasn't.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But you woulda thought that you'd've got it done before I was brought in here…" He added, looking back at Rude, eyes reflecting the humour he intended to go along with his comment. He received nothing in reply, except the scratching of pen against paper.
Sitting – or rather, slouching – in the chair at his desk, Reno muttered something along the lines of 'well aren't you a boring bastard' under his breath, before watching Rude work, for lack of anything else to do.
The paperwork, was of course, completed in due time, which had seemed like 'forever' in Reno's mind. Rude, was obviously not a senior Turk by any means, and was definitely not Reno's superior, it was simply that despite them both being 'new', Rude was more experienced by approximately a month. This meant that he had already patrolled Sector 8. He – Rude – knew that if something were to go 'pear-shaped' during their mission, there would be a more experienced Turk somewhere near by that would be able to come along and help them out.
For high-profile missions, and those that were a fair distance away, helicopters were the transport favoured by most Turks, followed by car, or motorbike, and finally… Foot. Obviously, patrolling Sector 8, which was renowned for seeing Very Little Action, a helo would be very much over the top, and whilst a vehicle with an engine would not cause the two to stand out any more than their uniforms made them do anyway, it did not allow for particularly effective patrolling. So, apart from the preliminary journey, this mission would be carried out entirely on foot, a prospect which was rather unappealing to both, for much the same reason; It was not for the factor that one might expect, which was due to it being walking, but to do with the ft the walking was slower. A slower travelling pace meant that they would spend more time together, with Reno attempting to converse with a person who apparently didn't like to converse, and Rude having to cope with someone who, in his opinion, seemed to speak far too much.
It was going to be interesting, whichever way it was looked at.
Running a hand through his hair, Reno groaned. This was not what he had been expecting. Of course, he was completely aware that he would not be thrown in the deep-end straight away, but… Damn. This was so boring. There was no other word for it. They were just simply wandering the streets, and being, for the most part, thoroughly ignored and avoided. Not what he had had in mind. For sure, he hadn't been expecting some all-out, each man for himself action scenario, but he hadn't expected nothing at all. In fact, he wasn't even sure why they were here in the first place. Apparently it was something to do with possible trouble from some Wutai gang that had set up shop here. They weren't too fond of ShinRa, and their operations, but they also, were apparently not particularly brilliant at being a skilled fighting force. As a result, comparatively untrained Turks were sent in to keep a watchful eye.
As far as Reno could see, there were no Wutai gangs. There were definitely gangs – t hey were very easy to spot, whether it be from the bandanas certain kids wore, or the incredibly similar jackets, they were noticed. What was not noticed, was any Wutai kids wandering around. Almost all of those noticed were people seemingly indigenous to this continent – and most probably Sector. Reno couldn't help bus amuse himself with the very common jokes each sector made about another and 'inbreds'. Especially webbed feet…
This lack of activity mean that something was very wrong, Reno eventually decided, after what seemed like three or four hours, but was more likely to have been between one and two. It mean that either their intel had been wildly wrong, or said gangs were currently hiding from the two suited men walking around the area in apparent circles.
"Hnna, Ru-ude," Reno started, in what Rude could only think of to describe as a particularly distinct whining tone. "How many times d'you reckon we're gonna have to walk along this fucking pavement before one of us wears a hole in it? 'Cause I'm getting' the feeling that nothing interesting is gonna happen, y'know, and even if it were, right, the big, experienced Turks will come bounding to our rescue because it's too dangerous for our collective newb arses." He finished, rambling more than a little. He received what he believed was a 'you're-really-trying-my-patience' stare, but again, he couldn't be sure due to the ever present sunglasses. In fact, Reno decided, it was actually really quite fun to imagine exactly what expression Rude was making at any one point in time. Grinning, he tilted his head to one side, slowing in his steps to stare at the other for a few moments, whilst waiting for a reply.
"Hmm? You gonna answer? 'Cause as much as me talking is a wonderful experience, generally a reply has to be spoken by someone else for any conversation to continue, or to go anywhere interesting. Because… Even I get tired of listening myself speak eventually. One point of view, and all that."
Rude appeared to take a breath, and looked to one side, before shaking his head. "Maybe I would reply, if you actually stopped to breathe." Studying Rude for a moment, Reno let out a short laugh, and grinned lopsidedly before continuing.
"Why do I get the feeling you're lying to me? Eeh, anyways. Y'know-" Reno frowned, looking as if he was thinking of how to phrase the next statement, or as if he'd forgotten it entirely. Rude sincerely hoped it was the latter; maybe that way he'd get some quiet. "How long you been here, then? Veld said you were here only slightly longer than me, so, y'know. How long is that?"
"A month."
"Right, a month. You were in that other training group, then. How many of yours made it? So… How many missions you been on – they all like this, or is it just my influence, keeping all the little baddies away?" He grinned, aware that asking questions on different subjects in the same statement wouldn't get an answer to all of them, but… It was a way to fill up the gaps in conversation left by the taller man.
"Pretty much."
"Now see, that's just somethin' that I don't get, y'know?" Rude, of course, did not 'know', but he was sure that whether or not he wanted to, he was going to be told anyway. Keeping his attention firmly on looking out for any possible signs of activity, he half-listened to the redhead.
"They sent us through them trainin' missions, right, to see what we'd be like out in the field, and that was tons different to this. Now, I can see why, right, they don't want to be sendin' us into somethin' we can't handle, or have us freak out, 'cause we know it's a real situation, as opposed to a trainin' scenario, but you woulda thought they'd have ordered us to do something a little harder, y'know, so they can really gauge what we're like on the field. Sendin' us out on what effectively qualifies as a mornin' stroll, is pretty damn counter-productive. From my experience, lit'le punks like what we're meant to be looking for, don't tend to come out an' play when they see suited Turks walkin' 'bout all day."
Rude had to admit, he could see the point Reno had been trying to make, but… He couldn't say he could really agree. If this gang was so inclined, then this 'morning stroll' would have been more interesting than what it was. However, they weren't, and apparently a lack of things to do made the redhead irritable, and prone to ranting. Rude bit back the urge to comment on this fact, and instead chose to comment on the others 'interesting' speech patterns and grammar.
"Did you- Who taught you to speak?" Reno frowned, running his tongue along his teeth for a moment. If there was something he hated, it was having his speech corrected, and making a comment such as Rude had, was just as bad. It implied that they wanted to correct his speech
"Why? D'you have a problem with it? At any point have you not been able to understand what I've said? 'Though, it's possible, considerin' the amount you don't say, I s'pose, but, whatever. 'Til it gets to a point where you don't understand what I'm sayin', it's a problem, but up 'til that point, there ain't no problem, y'know. So who taught me to speak is not any of your business."
Rude blinked, staring at Reno for a few minutes, surprised that his comment had had such an effect on the man. He was becoming aware that the other seemed to have mood swings, a fact that he was not about to point out on their first meeting. Shrugging, he replied with a simple apology, before becoming distracted by a group of youths that had not been present on their previous wanderings.
Directing Reno's attentions towards them, the redhead smirked for a moment, before walking alongside his partner, both aware that they cut an intimidating figure in their suits, and whilst a single Turk was avoided, two together were something that most people would never go near, no matter their experience; Turks didn't get to become Turks by having a nice, fluffy experience of training. They became Turks because they were able to put up with what others could possibly not, and not being bound by the same constraints that might stop a weaker person.