Reckless Fire

A Final Fantasy VII fanfic

By Lady Ava

Author's Notes and Disclaimer: This is an idea I've had for a while. I've always liked Reno, but he seems to be the one Turk that is very popular, but no one knows anything about him and where he was before Shin-ra. So, this is just my personal thoughts on it.

As always, I do not own Final Fantasy VII, any of the characters, settings, etc.

Prologue

"We're running late boss," a deep gruff voice muttered while exhaling on his cigarette. He was unclean and looked as if he hadn't changed his clothes in weeks. Blistered and dry-skinned fingers flicked the dead butt onto the wet pavement below as his beat up combat boots quickly stomped upon it, extinguishing it.

Behind one of the many bars of the slums was usually never patrolled by cops or the Shin-ra dogs. They knew too well that it was in indeed the territory of one of the larger gangs in Midgar. The ground was still wet from the recent rain that came through from the upper plate as two men stood outside underneath a single streetlamp. There was a door behind them, almost making them seem as if they were look-outs.

The man he spoke to eyed the ground where his comrade's shoe had stomped. His eyes were bloodshot has they hid slightly behind long greasy-looking black hair that fell over his shoulders. He was dressed in a long black trench coat with similar combat boots to his underling. Under his eyes, there were thick red lines that almost seemed slightly faded from years of being embedded onto this skin. Tossing his long mane over his shoulder, a small twisted grin came to his chapped lips. Looking out of the corner of his eye, the man chuckled a bit.

"This is worth being late," he spoke, his voice filled with a sickening sound of joy.

Curling his lip slightly, the underling spat at the words his boss spoke, "What the hell is so important about that twerpy kid?"

Once again, the man found himself chuckling, "I owe it to his old man to let him in. After all," he paused to remove a cigarette from the inside pocket of his coat. Lighting it, he took in a deep breath. Holding his breath for a moment, he exhaled into the low light of the alley, creating a small cloud around him. "he and I did start the 'Crimson Bloods.'"

The quietness of the alleyway was suddenly shattered by the sound of a high-pitched scream of pain. Looking at each other, the two couldn't help but let a snicker as the boss flicked his smoke away into the alley. As he turned to head back inside, he patting the lower man on the back with a grin, "It's always fun when they scream." He muttered moving back inside.

There were three lights in total within the small back room, all of which were angled down at a large table in the center. The other men of the gang encircled the lit area, watching the scene before them intently. There were a few chuckles exchanged as they watched, unable to do anything. One man sat hunched over the table, drawing something upon an individual that was strapped down under the lights. Leather belt straps locked the young man to the table by way of his wrists, ankles, torso and head.

"Damnit! You Bitch!" the young man cursed out, trying to move his body away from the needles that were being pressed into his skin beneath his eyes. His wild red hair fell on and off his face as small trickles of blood rolled down his cheeks mixed with his sweat. His lip was cut opened from trying to resist the urge to yell out. Blood was starting to drip onto the metal table as the needles dug deeper into the youth's flesh. Panting slightly, he glared over at the man above him, "Ya coulda given me something, yo."

Moving around the spectators, the boss laughed aloud as he listened to the youth whimper. A few of the other men glanced over at him, joining in on the snickers of their leader as they watched him move into the lit area of the room. Seeing the young man squirm was a sight that made this job almost seem worth it.

Coming up to the side of the table, the boss loomed over the boy's head, a smile forming on his face. As he watched the young man bleed, he placed a hand onto his shoulder, "So, how does it feel Reno?" he asked as the tools dug into the skin once again, "Does it make you feel like you have respect? Power?"

Opening his eyes slowly, Reno let them focus upon the above individual above him, "This….is….nothing…" he growled out, pain etched on every word, "It's….its what my….dad wanted."

Nodding at the words, the man released his shoulder and looked up to the rest of the room. "It will be good to have one of ya in the family again." He boasted, moving around to the table to the front, gaining a roar of cheers from the rest of the men. "Especially the son of my best friend."

Lifting his tools from Reno's face, the artist a small sigh escape him, "He's all done," he announced, wiping his brow off with his forearm.

A silence fell across the room as all eyes fell back to the table. The man stood from his chair, stretching out his back slightly. Leaning over Reno, he quickly removed the leather belts from around his body, arms, and legs. Seeing that the youth was just laying there, he reached down to help him up.

"I don't need help," Reno slurred, shoving the arm away from him. Sitting up slowly, the red head found himself struggling. He placed a hand over his face as he managed to bring himself come into an upright position. The feeling of sweat and blood began to cover his fingertips and palm. Under his eyes, he felt as if his skin was on fire. His breath was a bit heavy, trying to steady itself from screaming.

Removing his hand from his face, Reno looked up and let his piercing blue eyes dart about the room. There were smirks on some faces, while looks of surprise from others. Mumbles spread throughout the room as he moved to stand from the table slowing, making sure that he wouldn't sway or wobble on his feet.

"So, was that it?" he boasted, causing a wave of laughter to fill the room.

The boss smirked as he came to Reno's side, placing an arm around the boy's shoulders. "You're the image of your dad kid," he began, getting the murmurs of agreement from the men. "Consider this, the best thing that ever happened to ya."

As the other members of the gang came to pat him on the back or mess his short hair more, Reno couldn't help but smile. Being there in the Crimson Bloods was all he wanted since he was a kid; since his father had died. Those tattoos on his face were the sign of power and respect. After all, in Midgar, that's all a man could hope for.

Author's Notes: Well, that's the beginning. Let me know what you think. Please Read and Review!