Title: Soldier's opinions
Author: Enide Dear
Pairing: Reno centered, but Soldier foursome
Rating: violence, but no blood
Summary: Soldiers have strong opinions about certain things
A/N: for Spiderbaitwebs! Because she didn't ask for it ;)
"This is…this is so flattering!" The man held on to the limo's steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white as he with exaggerated care shifted lane, the huge care moving smoothly through the neon light and bustle that was Midgard's busy night streets. "I mean, it's like a dream come true!"
"Yeah, sure, whatever." Reno watched the man with amusement and a certain low-level paranoia. "Just keep your eyes on the fucking road, yo."
"Of course, of course!" The man nodded violently, almost managing to ram into a little sport car due to the spastic motion. He blushed as he had to step hard on the breaks, giving Reno a guilty glance that made the Turk sigh. Reno hadn't bothered to learn the man's name and he probably never would. "I'll take care of them, I swear." The man stammered.
Reno only shook his head at that, leaning back on the shiny leather upholstery and taking another deep gulp of clear liquid – only water, damn it, because the alcohol already in his system was what had caused this jumpy, boring, average guy to be the current driver of ShinRa's finest Firs Class Soldiers and their puppy out for a night on the town.
Well, alcohol and Tseng, to be fair. Reno wouldn't dream of putting all the blame on the vodka. He and it had had a perfectly nice relationship going by his desk when Tseng – fuck the man! – had come out and said that Reno was to escort the First Class pervs out on a bender and that if Reno had been drinking when he was on duty again then Tseng would personally tie him up, rub meat sauce all over him and leave him for Dark Nation to lick clean. And he'd be taking photos.
And that was just *nasty*. Reno was many things, but he'd be damned if was going to play bitch to a dog. So he'd strode straight out – as straight as he could walk, anyway – grabbed the first janitor he saw and asked if the man had a license to drive. When it turned out he had, the unlucky man had been upgraded to designated driver of one drunken Turk and four Soldiers heavily bent on achieving the same state. As the 'mini fridge' in ShinRa's limos were anything but 'mini', Reno was pretty sure they were all having quite a nice buzz back there by now.
The only thing he hadn't counted on was for the janitor to be an avid Soldier fan. He probably should have, though. Most people in ShinRa – most people in Midgard – most people in the whole fucking world, was. Wasn't fair, Reno sulked a bit, drinking more water – he'd need to piss soon, maybe he could use the bottle once it was empty, wouldn't that make Reeve happy? The man was always talking about reuse and recycle. Maybe he should just bring the bottle and show him tomorrow? – why where there no Turk fanclubs of swooning men and women? He always liked some swooning. Made people so much easier to molest, especially when drunk like now.
From the corner of his eye he glanced at the janitor but shuddered. No way was he that desperate. Not with the four most gorgeous men in the world in the back. He grinned a bit. *Four gorgeous men in the back .Yeah, that sounds about right.*
"So, where are we going?" The man bounced in his seat and Reno groaned and lit a cig. *Next time I'm taking a secretary instead. Can't possibly be worse.*
"To the Velvet Room. Around the corner of 51 street. New place." He shook out the match and threw it out the window. Night air came in, cool and heavy with pollution and noise and Reno breathed deep, filling his lounges with wondrous Midgard air and letting his skin soak up the light from street lamps, cars and Loveless billboards, all larger than life. *Fuck. I love this city.*
It took a while to realize the janitor was staring at him.
"Are you serious?" The man blinked. "I mean, I read about that place. It's a…a…" the man blushed but pressed on. "…with men! Not women. They have men there!"
"Sure hope so, or they – " Reno gestured with a thumb towards the backseat, hidden from view and sound by the separating window being up. *Damn perverts are probably having a foursome back there already and won't even let us watch. Cheapskates!* - will be more disappointed than Rude at a hairdresser."
The man's jaw dropped.
"Are you *serious*?" He repeated.
"Nah, not really. Rude can still get his beard trimmed."
"No, I mean about them!" the man waved at the car, leaning forward over the wheel now as if wanting to get as much distance as possible between him and the backseat. "Are they…" he lowered his voice, "..fags?"
"Queer as a horde of rainbow chocoboes." Reno winked, but sat up straighter. This wasn't going well.
The janitor drove on, eyes on the road now but mind obviously somewhere else. His lips were pressed so hard together they were white.
"That," he said finally, his voice low and dark, "is just fucking *wrong*."
Reno's eyes didn't narrow, because that kind of thing was cheesy and gave you away. He just leaned an elbow on the door - *away* from the janitor - half way hanging out of the car.
"You say?" He said, sounding disinterested.
"Yeah, I say!" The man sounded furious now – furious and disgusted. "That kind of shit is just wrong! It's gross and, and *unnatural*. Hey, I grew up in the slums." He gestured wildly. "You know what we used to do to fags there? We used to bash their pansy asses!"
*Probably rape them to, just to show how fucking straight you are.* Reno rolled his eyes. He'd grown up in the slums to, and he'd bashed people. But it had been for money, or turf, or fun, not because they were gay. He'd been an open-minded vicious bastard.
"All I'm saying is," the man continued, burning with some holier-than-thou wrath, "they should watch themselves in public or else things can go bad…"
There was a soft, almost delicate sound, as if someone was ripping apart a silk tissue and then a burning - *flaming, hah!* - red sword shone in all its razor sharp glory just beneath the man's right elbow. The janitor swore with panic, the car swerved all over the road and then a slimmer, longer, one-edged blade protruded beneath the man's left arm, effectively forcing him to righted the car or lose the limb. The janitor screamed in fear but the car was back on the road, roaring forward and forcing other cars aside like a rampant shark amongst sleek little seals.
"Yeah, I'm betting they are *really* scared," Reno drank some more water. He had a serious feeling that he'd be the designated driver when they were going home and he'd better try to sober up before then. "Ever heard of mako hearing?"
A third sword – a huge, heavy, cumbersome thing more like a surfboard than a blade, really – smashed through the seat an inch over the man's head, cutting a few greasy strands. The man screamed in horror.
"Shee, they are being really careful, yo. Missing and all. Wonder if they can see you through there or if they're guessing your position from sound and smell. They ain't all human anymore, you know." Reno leaned forward and gently took possession of the car's wheel as the man let go and screamed and screamed in desperate fear as a fourth sword – a standard double edged Soldier sword – came through the roof and impaled itself just between the man's legs. "Fucking Fair," Reno mused. "Always showing off. Must have leaned out the sun roof."
He looked down at the traumatized man caught in a cage of sharp steel and scowled.
"If you pissed through your pants and I have to drive home sitting in your puddle, then you are in so much deep shit you wouldn't believe it, yo!"
The man, surrounded by sharp steel and with the fury of four First Class Soldiers at his back stared up at the insanely glimmering eyes of the Turk.
Reno grinned.
"Welcome to ShinRa, yo."