Rookie

Summary: '"Don't worry, rookie. You'll get used to it." But I don't want to. I want to remember every human rung of this ladder. One-shot, Elena-centric.'

I don't own FFVII - if I did, I wouldn't be an addict of fics so as to feel happier about the possible storylines and pairings.

Name: Elena Rayluno.

Gender: Female.

Age: 21.

Status: Turk.

Rank: In-Training.

Initiation: Imminent.

Rookie.

That's what they call me here. "Wooh, look at the rookie go" as I dash past like the bloody Wonderland White Rabbit; late yet again because of the twelfth 'test your mental endurance and resourcefulness' prank in my first week, which Reno insists is the run-of-the-mill procedure for every newbie here: Black-face soap, the hot-water done in with Ice materia, containers of waste substances from the cafeteria and science department on top of my office door, my reports stolen or destroyed the day they're due, trip-wires on the stairs, my training equipment hidden or manipultaed into backfiring (including guns)… After all, Shinra can't take quitters, can they?

Quitters. Ha.

Now that's some sick irony. You don't quit Shinra; especially not the Turks. Try it and you'll be impaled on your own sword as they send one of your own out after you. Not to bring you back for second chances – oh no. And there's no chance of them letting you get away, because it's that exact reason that the Turks never fail their mission.

Yeah, that's right – the kind of mission I'm on right now. I have to admit, none of the traps Reno sprung caught me like the surprise of this. The reason I'm standing in the evening shadows at the mouth of this filthy alley with my (is it even mine really?) gun pointed at this young man's head.

'No. Not a young man. Rogue SOLDIER. Target.'

He blinks like a deer in the headlights. I suppose he didn't expect us to catch up till tomorrow. But that's really the point of this particular mission. This mission isn't for him, not really.

This is for me.

*Flashback*

'Despite Shinra's attitude, their facilities certainly pay off. As do the pay checks. Well, duh. The apartment's good too… pity they don't supply weapons free…'

My train of thought suddenly derailed there. Mostly because of the damned voice belonging to the most efficient idiot on Gaia that suddenly rang through the shooting range section of the Turk training facilities.

"Y'know, rookie, you're here to train, not daydream, yo."

I whipped round, pointing the gun I'd been practising with at his head, topped by hair as flaming red as my rage. Reno smirked lazily.

"There's no point in trying that, yo. I'm hardly scared of a rookie like you."

"I'm no rookie", I snapped, "and as you can see, I know how to handle this." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at the practise target; each of the bulls-eye points was completely perforated with holes.

"Yeah, you hit your targets, sure. Shit, I bet if you wanted you could even give Tseng a run for his money in a competition. But there're three things totally wrong."

I raised a brow and he continued. "One: that gun ain't even loaded, yo."

Flushing, I realized he was right – the magazine was completely empty, the ready ammunition still clutched in my other hand.

"Two: you're still blinking as you shoot."

'Dammit... Sis always said...'

"And three: that ain't even your gun, yo."

I snapped my head up at that, my heart thumping.

"What the hell do you mean? Of course it's mine...!"

"No it ain't, rookie. That's your sister's gun. All you've got of her, right?"

I felt frozen. "What... how... I mean – you know–"

"Sure I knew Gun, rookie. And I know that weapon in your hand. I'm the one who retrieved it from her body and sent it back with her death-report, after all."

'Her name was Gana, dammit. Gana... Gan... Gun...

Name: Gana Rayluno.

Gender: Female.

Age: 23.

Status: Turk.

Rank: 4th

Cause of death: Killed in action...'

"The plate... she died that day..."

Reno nodded, his aqua eyes slightly dark. "Yeah... she was down in the slums at the time, pursuing a target who'd fled down there. A waste really – she got him, of course, but the whole area was hit blind... he would've died anyway."

"Then why..."

"She was expendable for Shinra to be sure – he was a priority target."

'But that's not right... It's the SOLDIER recruits who sign up to die for Shinra – the Turks sign up to kill. Is there no...?'

Reno can see the question in my eyes. He must've seen it so many times... "The answer's no – there's no honour amongst the Turks. That shit's for the martyrs, the SOLDIERS. We'll backstab quick as you please. Sure, we'll die for duty, but that's 'cos we know that if you don't complete a mission even by that means, you're dead anyway."

His eyes were cold as Ice materia. "And if you can't get to terms with that, you'll be dead before you even start trying, rookie. Speaking of which..." He flung a folder I hadn't noticed before at my feet. "...you've got your first assignment."

My brain seemed to seize up and go into overdrive simultaneously. It didn't make any sense. I bent and picked up the file.

Name: Romulus Dean.

Gender: Male.

Age: 21.

Status: Rogue SOLDIER.

Rank: Ex-Cadet.

Termination standard: Minor. Imminent.

Nope, no sense at all.

"Why are they sending me on this mission so urgently? He was only reported yesterday and he's a low-level priority...?"

"Exactly. Don't you get it, rookie? It's your first go, so you get it easy. You track and take him out tonight. He'll know he's low-level, so you'll catch him by surprise. He'll have fled under down into the slums – they always do. You're on your own for this. Fail aaannnd..." Reno's voice trailed of meaningfully as he raised a brow, mimed putting a gun to my head and clicked his tongue. I hated it. How he could act so cocky when he's telling me I might be next. "So you'd better get some practise in, rookie."

With that he turned and strolled from the room.

Shell-shocked. Yep, that was me. Assignment. Mission. Judgement. Death row... Practise.

I turned back to the target, but my hands were shaking so hard I dropped everything – file, bullets, gun. Scrabbling on the floor, I picked up the weapon and traced the Elaborate G carved into the grip. Gun... Gan... Gana. Sis... Lend me your ability to do this.

I reloaded the weapon fully and straightened my back, aimed the gun at the target's forehead. I can feel her hands grasping my wrists strongly, gripping my shoulders, tilting my head straight, her firm voice instructing me in my mind...

'"Don't blink..."'

I squeeze the trigger.

The guns fires.

And hits, like fate...

*End Flash-back*

...right on target.

He's down and dead; a hole between his eyes. That's it.

Here it comes.

Gaia, I'm glad Sis told me what it was like when I asked her. I'm glad this mission's a solo, that no-one else is around to see me retching the contents of my stomach out 'til there's nothing left and not even stopping then. As I dry-heave, I want to laugh at how my mind automatically processes my body's functions, blocking out my surroundings: 'Vomiting is caused by the powerful sustained contraction of the abdominal and chest wall musculature, which is accompanied by the descent of the diaphragm and the opening of the gastric cardia. This is a reflex activity that is not under voluntary control. It results in the rapid and forceful evacuation of stomach contents up to and out of the mouth...' Yup, sounds about right. Just thinking about it's enough to make you puke, but it's a damn sight better than the guilty shock trip. Dammit...

Dammit. Look at him lying there, he didn't have a chance. He looked so surprised, like a startled kid... he was so young, only my age, I don't want to die now, I don't want to be killed, yet that life's been snuffed out so quick by my hand, so quick and easy, but it wasn't easy for me, not really and oh gawd oh gawd, shit shit shit, that could've been me, it would've been–

Stop.

Stop right there.

That's right. It would have been. I know that – had I hesitated, I'd have died either way; by his hand for him to escape or by one of the other Turks because I failed a mission and let him go. That's all there is to it. The Turks kill for Shinra. I've killed for Shinra, so I live. I've killed for Shinra, so...

Wiping my mouth, I stand up shakily, spitting the acrid juices from my mouth and take my phone from my pocket, replacing it with the gun. My hands are steadier than I feel, dialling the number on auto pilot.

The cocky bastard answers on the fifth ring. "The rookie lives, yo?! How's it going?"

'Must...not...scream...and...smash...phone. Waste...!' "Elena reporting. Mission complete."

He chuckles mockingly, like a magpie. "Well congrats to ya, darling. Looks like you'll make it after all."

'I really don't need this shit now...!' I'm about to hang up straight off out of sheer exasperation when his voice resounds into my ear again, softer somehow, yet chillingly sad, like a resigned condemnation. "It's true you never forget the first time. But don't worry, roo– Laney. You'll get used to it." It's a statement.

I put the phone back in my pocket, not bothering to switch it off, and walk out of there. Bodies in the slum alleys are nothing unusual – nor are assassinations – but it's still best to go. Besides I need to be alone now.

But Reno's words ring in my ears

"You'll get used to it."

I'm sure I could. I know they all do, all blocking and parrying the blows of memory in their own ways. But I don't want to. I'm a true Turk now – I've killed for Shinra, as per the initiation and I won't be forgetting this one, or any of the others – any more than you forget each and every belt you gain in martial arts, I won't be forgetting any names, faces or numbers. Because each mission, each life and death is a step up this ladder of human life and flesh away from the grounded rookie, a step towards being whatever I can in this fucked up mess we call a life.

For myself, for Sis (Gana, Gan, Gun...?)... for the everything and nothing I know I am.

This is my first fic... Yeah, I had to re-upload it 'cos I found some text and font I wasn't happy with. Hope you enjoyed - well, as much as a morbid fic like this can be! I won't nag you to review, but I'd love it if you would. Chocolate Teapot, thankyou for your review on the original - does the bar-line help the jarring of the flashes at all?