Drugs And Barrels

by markofthemoros

AU. A gang fic. The Lights and the Turks are two rival crime syndicates in London. Reno and Cloud are the Turks' ace lackeys. Guns, baby! Violence. Drugs. Boozing. Sexual themes. Character death. 7th Heaven as a high class erotic club.

AN and Disclaimer: This is a birthday present story for a friend.

I do not own either Final Fantasy VII characters nor Kingdom Hearts characters. Square Enix holds all the rights (as far as I know), and I'm not making any profit out of writing this.

The whole story is admittedly influenced by .project107's awesome, awesome, awesome Kingdom Hearts fic Those Who Lie. Read it, READ IT! I simply adore it. And it shows in this one.

WARNING: Rated for a reason! This story contains drugs (well duh!), sexual themes, boozing, violence, torture and character death. So if you're offended by anything aforementioned OR if you're underage, I suggest clicking the Back bar right now and looking for something else to read. You've been warned.

---

The wide tires of a Corvette burned ugly black scars onto the road as the vehicle skid into halt. From the car rose two figures, both of them clad in dark and wearing shades. One of them had an intense red hair that was pulled onto ponytail. He had left three uppermost buttons of his simple white collar shirt unbuttoned, and his black jacket was hanging open. He wasn't wearing a tie, and from under the sleeves of his dark gray slacks flashed red-and-black Converse shoes. A strictly formal combination played casual. On his face the man held a mischievous grin, and when he removed his shades, his storm-colored eyes had a hungry gleam.

The other was wearing a black leather coat and a properly done black shirt, no tie. His black jeans hugged his slender frame, and he didn't bother covering up the two ominous holsters tightly attached to his upper thighs. Polished metal shone in the sunlight. The other man's expression was stern and serious as they started walking towards the small door.

The doorbell chimed in an almost empty little shop. "Ciddy, my man! What up, yo?" Reno's overly cheerful voice boomed as the men casually walked in.

The shelfs of the place were crammed with cellphones, computers, supplies, MP3 players and other small electronics someone in some universe could imagine buying. From behind the counter in the back of the store rose an older man with a dirty-blond hair that was casually held from his eyes by a pair of old-fashioned goggles. He had a half-smoked cigarette butt sticking out of his mouth, and it looked like the guy had gained a few extra wrinkles just by seeing who entered his shop. The guy was totally pissed.

"The likes of you have no business in my store. Get out!" Cid barked.

"Oh, but Ciddy, you do know what day it is today, hm? It's the first Friday of a new quarter –" The man's expression grew even more sour "– and you know what that means, right, Ciddy?" Something about the way the redhead stressed his name made the man shiver and he gulped. "It means you owe Rufus money, old man!" Reno hissed dangerously as he slammed his hand onto the counter.

Cid's voice trembled a little as he muttered, "... ain't paying."

The redhead frowned. "Excuse me, I didn't quite catch that, yo," he nearly whispered, but Cid didn't fail to notice the threat hidden behind those words. The man in black had now moved to the counter as well, his expression betraying nothing.

Cid's hands trembled. These goddamn no-good street dogs! Curse them all to hell! That's what he wanted to say. But what he had to say was,

"I ain't paying. Ain't, you hear?! Yous damn business is ruining mine. I've lost customers, people fear to come here. I'm done! Now, get out!"

Reno blinked. The other guy's eyebrows rose but his face remained unreadable. Cid puffed and glared at both of them.

Then a fist collided with his face. Reno had jumped forward and hit the older man hard in between his eyes, sending him flailing and falling to the floor with a pained howl. Within seconds he was on top of the man, gripping his shirt collar and forcing him to look at him.

"Now listen, gramps. You get us the money, understood? Otherwise-" Reno's stern expression turned into mocked concern as he stressed, "– we can't guarantee your safety."

Cid spit at him. Shock, disgust, loathe, a mixture of emotions flashed over Reno's face as he wiped the stuff out of his cheek. Then with an enraged roar he brought his fist down into the older man's face. There was a sickening cracking sound and Cid cried out in pain. Reno had broken his nose. Steel-colored eyes burned as he mercilessly beat the helpless man writhing and pleading beneath him. His knuckles stained crimson.

Reno gasped slightly as a hand gripped his just as he was bringing it down to crush the bastard's cheekbone, and he snapped his eyes at his partner angrily. "Reno... You're killing him, " Cloud stated calmly. He, too, had now removed his glasses and he eyed the redhead darkly. "Cool it, man. We're not here for this."

Reno felt his blood-lust drain out of him. With a pissed snort he turned to look at the pitiable pulp on the floor. Cid's face was bloodied and swollen; streaks of tears ran down his cheekbones. His pained breath came in short, wheezing gasps. His nose was crooked into an unnatural angle, and several cuts were steadily oozing. The guy had his eyes only half-open; he was hovering on the borderline of consciousness.

"Tch! Fine", he spat out and rose from the floor where the man whimpered and tried in vain to get up himself. "Remember this, Ciddy. I'll be back the day after tomorrow, yo. And that time you'd better have the money. Or I'll burn this place to the ground and use you as kindling!"

With that, he stormed out of the small store. Cloud rolled his eyes and shaking his head slightly pulled out his cellphone. Dialing the emergency number, he punched the green dial as he, too, made his way to the door.

"999 emer–"

"Listen, send an ambulance to Hollinder and Maddison's. Make it quick, unless you wanna find a corpse."

"Sir, we need you to–" Cloud hung up before he found out what the woman at 999 center needed him to, and hopped into the car. He had barely slammed his door shut when Reno already pulled off, still snarling. The redhead pulled out his box of cigarettes from the jacket pocket, tapped the bottom a couple of times to draw out a stick and brought it to his mouth. Cloud held out his lighter, and Reno accepted with a thankful growl. He dragged a long smoke and exhaled blissfully.

"Man, what bullshit, yo!"

"Hmm..."

"'Hmm?!' ...Seeming awfully chivalrous today, man? Stopping me beating the shit out of the asshole, calling a fucking ambulance... What's the deal, you found a God or something?" Reno snorted as he cast a scrutinizing stare at his partner. Cloud playfully tilted his head to his direction, and smirked.

"I stopped you from getting both of our asses kicked by Boss had you cut the money pipe, shit-for-brains. Kinda bad business blackmailing a body."

Yeah. That Reno hadn't considered. His face dropped as a vivid image of Boss petting him with a barbed-wired baseball bat popped into his mind. Not a scenario Reno would be likely to enjoy. He snorted in irritation, but had to admit that Goldilocks had a point.

"Man, I need a drink," he sighed as he shuffled a hand through his hair, "Wanna go to Box?" Reno asked lazily. Cloud shrugged.

"Sure."

Fire returned to Reno's eyes and he grinned; Pedal, meet Metal.

---

Pandora's Box, or just Box for shorts, was a club themed after Lady Gaga. Or could have been. The interiors were silvery, metallic, punctual to the detail. Here and there TV screens replayed and replayed the latest pop and dance music videos fit to the atmosphere. The bass reverberated through your chest, synchronizing with the pulsing of your heart. On the several stages on all sides of the place there were huge transparent bubbles inside which dancing girls performed their routines. The ceiling was painted to resemble night-sky and it was decorated with a huge mosaic put together of disco ball pieces; from it also hung ribbons upon ribbons of organza strips, fancy chandeliers, bird-cages and ever a small tricycle. All the bars had ice blue led lights embedded into the counters, and the bar stools were design-made. That's a Ga-go right there.

The men took a seat in an open lounge respectfully far away from the stage. It was still early and there were only a few other customers. A waitress came to take their orders – "Vodka tonic and a milk, please", at which Cloud punched Reno's arm and informed the woman that he'd have a Margarita please. When the drinks came, she politely inquired if the gentlemen wanted anything else while letting her skimpy skirt's hem rise ever so slightly and making sure that her well-endowed bosom was nicely presented.

"Well, I'm quite liking what I'm seeing right here, sugar," Reno smirked and winked at her seductively. "I'll catch you later!" Feigning giggling, the waitress left, satisfied.

Cloud raised his eyebrows at him, "You'd do her?"

"Well, hell yeah! What, you wouldn't? Dude, did you see those knockers?!" Reno boasted. He relaxed himself onto the seat and took a generous gulp of his drink, "Man, I'm gonna fuck that bitch brainless, make her squeal like a-"

"Okay, okay, I get the picture!" Cloud huffed and took a sip of his drink as well.

Reno smirked. "Uptight, are we?"

"Shut up, Reno."

Their lovers' quarrel was interrupted by a buzz. It arose from within the fabricated confines of Reno's jacket pocket – his phone. Reno glanced at the caller ID and cursed heavily. That got Cloud's attention as well. It could be only one person.

"Yeah?" Reno blunted, dispensing with pleasantries. Inside he hoped that the thumping beat of the music didn't sound all the way to the other end of the line. In vain, of course.

"Where are you?" Reno swallowed. Tseng's tone was collected and pace slow – he was clearly pissed.

"On our way, sir."

"That's what I thought." Shit, Reno thought and closed his eyes. They were in trouble.

"Just get your asses back here." It took Reno a couple of beeps to comprehend Tseng had hung up. He ruffled his hair with his hand and then brought it to his face. Shit.

"Trouble?" Cloud's voice held an inkling of worry.

"Yeah," Reno sighed. "Didn't sound good, yo. We need to get going."

The guys got up, downed their drinks on one and left the waitress a generous tip, to say the least. They were out in the cooling street air within the minute.

---

I rest my head lazily against the car window. Reno's jamming on some R'n'B-whatever the radio's polluting the car's atmosphere with. I was never a big fan of music. But I keep that to myself. Outside, flashes upon flashes of neon lights, ethnic restaurants of all kinds imaginable, Underground signs, Tepco stores, people hurrying on with their ordinary lives reflect but never really register on my retina.

Sigh. Lucky them. I'd be nice to be one of those people some time.

My hand wanders to caress the grip of my Desert Eagle. In the corner of my eye, I spot movement. I'm sure he didn't mean for me to notice it, but I can tell that my actions are unnerving Reno. He's trying to keep his eyes on the road, but he's tense and his face nervous. I smirk; funny, I didn't think intimidating him would be this easy. Just to play with the thought – and to see how far he lets me to take it – I decide to pull out the gun and pretend to study it, make sure it's loaded, take aim, shit like that. Reno's lips are a thin line and he's frowning. I chuckle a little before holstering the gun again, excessively explicitly turning the safety on. He glares at me.

"Having fun?" Reno spites at me. My smirk widens. Yeah, actually I am. I'm not saying it, however. Instead I say,

"So, what did Tseng want?" My face gets serious again. That seems to steer also Reno's trail of thought into a new direction. His eyes widen a little and he blinks in recollection of the previous conversation with our superior. Then his expression goes sour and he snorts.

"He just wants us to report in immediately. Man, the guy's such a killjoy, yo!"

I say nothing, just growl out an agreeing response. That's odd. It's nothing new that Reno sneaks out to booze or get a blowjob after a mission; the higher-ups take no heed of it. And as for me, the superiors wouldn't give a rat's ass what I'm doing and where as long as we get our shit done. Whatever Tseng wants now is no small fry.

The HQ gate is a firm wrought-iron structure with two hawks facing each other. Surveillance camera turns to check on us. They recognize Reno's car, and the hawks part ways. Reno pulls in onto the long park-driveway, and I can't help admiring the pompous facade of the building as we get closer and closer; an Art Nouveau style mansion, two-story windows in the front, the top floor of the building rounded. I've never been there, but there's a private landing platform for a copter on the roof. There is a golden brown Porsche parked in front of the manor, and I have the hunch it's not the only one. My eyes wander to the richly decorated double staircases rising up to the covered porch. The driveway loops around a fountain; I gaze at the statue of an armored warrior girl riding a lion. The water pours out of the lion's open mouth, and I think of dragons. If one didn't know better, this place could easily be mistaken to be a lodge for the Royal Family.

Simply put, Rufus Shinra is filthy rich.

And where does he get his cash from?

"Yo, Spikehead!"

I startle out of my reverie; Reno grins from ear to ear as he waves his hand in front of my face. "We goin' or what?" I nod quickly and get out of the car. I can still hear his light chuckling as my door closes. Oh well, he got me. This time. My hand goes to touch the gun's grip lightly and inwardly I grin.

We sit in the lobby – luminous, pearly-colored room with a decorative fireplace – as a body guard informs the Boss. He comes back and without a word motions us to follow him. We do. It's a Turks rule: you are to never, and I mean never approach the Boss without their body guard. The guy leads us along an aisle, opens a heavy mahogany door and guides us into the study.

There are three men: Tseng, who is responsible of us Jackals, stands his back to us by the large bookshelf behind the desk; by it, the Boss is sitting in his armchair; and, sitting in an armchair by the fireplace, the General, Sephiroth. By far the most dangerous smuggler of illegal weapons, drugs and prostitutes on either side of the Thames; the head of the snake itself, some say. I study the silver-haired superior questioningly for a few moments. In Turks, the jobs are divided so that each superior is responsible of one field – Tseng's men, Jackals, take care of "customer relations". It's rare that other superiors get involved with other divisions' businesses.

"How's Mr. Highwind?" Tseng's tone isn't amused, simply official. Reno's right: the guy really has a pineapple five-inches up his ass.

Reno scratches the back of his neck before answering, faking a casual stretch. "It's taken care of," he smirks cunningly.

Tseng's eyes are thin lines. He looks like he wants to say something, but the Boss motions him to shut up and rises from his desk. We quickly salute.

"You must wonder why is General in here." He gets me off guard. My eyes automatically swift to the eccentric superior. I'm studying him until I find myself staring into his mint-green orbs. He holds my gaze easily. I feel my cheeks starting to turn red under those inexplicable eyes and turn my eyes away.

There is an inkling of a smirk forming on Boss's lips. "We're expecting a valuable shipment from China in two weeks from now. General here-" he motions towards Sephiroth, who grins with a mischievous grin that I can't interpret, "–has requested that a few Jackals would be there taking care of... possible disturbances." I frown. Possible disturbance equals the Lights.

"According to Tseng, you two are his best men." Well that was unexpected. Our superior isn't exactly the type to give out thank-you cards, less still praise.

Nor does he so this time.

Boss reaches into a drawer of his desk, grabs a remote and switches on his television. The news anchor's even tone goes on as a video of a red Corvette speeding on the highway plays on the LCD screen.

"–an electronics store on 1628 Hollinder Drive. The hospital in which the victim has been treated has confirmed that his condition is not critical. The vehicle associated with the mugging has been connected to the infamous crime syndicate, the Turks. The same organization has been associated with blackmailing and gang violence all over Greater London. The City Police has been criticized for failing to limit the actions of this notorious gang–" The screen goes black again. The air is heavy, and I suddenly realize how excruciatingly hot it is in here! I can practically feel our superiors' eyes in my back. After a silence that seems to go on forever, Boss finally asks,

"So, what happened at the store?" I flinch; Boss's tone had gone from early summer to death of mid-winter in half a second. I dare to steal a glance at Reno, who too seems uncomfortable.

"I, uh, kinda had to blow of some steam, sir. Won't happen again, sir!"

"Good." Boss means that this was our last warning; next time we make it into the Evening News will be the last. "In that case, shall we move on to–"

Ti-didi tidididi di-di-dii dii-tididi-di-di-dii...

Shit! Boss glares at me as I rush to fish out my phone from my pocket, and quickly look up the caller ID. I kill it instantly.

"Sorry about that," I mutter as I shove the phone back into my pocket.

"Not at all, Strife. Do elaborate, who would be such an important contact that for them, you'd forget to turn your phone off when in my office?" Boss's expression was stern; he was not amused.

"It's nothing, sir. A woman. I'll call her back," I mutter and salute respectfully. That seems to gratify the Boss, and he clears his throat and goes back to the plan. But I notice that Reno has a surprised expression on his face as he stares at me with a sloppy smirk. And as the Boss folds open some files onto his desk, I get the feeling that someone's watching me. It takes a little while to locate the stare but as I steal a glance in the direction of the fireplace, I find myself staring into those... mesmerizing eyes again. I swallow uncomfortably, and I think the General' smiles as if he'd have seen something pleasing.

"As I was saying, the cargo will be here in two weeks. At midnight. According to our spies, the Lights seem to show an unusual interest in this particular shipment. Which cannot be explained... by anything, as a matter of fact. As far as I know, the Lights shouldn't even be aware of such a valuable load. If I didn't know better–" Shinra cast his stern eyes at the General, "–I might think someone has been squealing." My eyes widen. Sephiroth's grin widened only slightly.

"As for you Jackals, I trust that securing the mission isn't anything out of your usual schedule," Shinra asks us without a question.

"Sure, Boss, but... seriously, a leak?!" Reno's apparently shocked. Then again, so am I, but unlike him, I'm not in a position to say anything to the Boss unless asked. I cast my eyes onto the floor.

"You don't need to worry about it right now. All I want to know is whether or not the two or you are capable of securing the transfer should a situation arise?" Rufus's eyes are like slits.

He wants us to protect a shitload of weapons from the Lights. The Seven Lights has been the biggest competition of the Turks for over a decade. The two gangs fought over the control of Greater London ten years ago, when the pops of Rufus was still the head of the Turks. To establish a truce and quit the bloodshed, the two leaders split the city into districts that each gang controlled. The gang war ceased, but occasional clashes between the dominant syndicates continued to take place. Nevertheless, a makeshift peace has lasted.

Up until now.

---

"Hello."

"Couldn't really talk earlier. Work stuff," I hum into the phone, as apologetically as possible.

"Shall I see you tomorrow then?"

"Can't. Got stuff to do. We have to wait until Sunday."

"Alright. Jolly Roger, in two days. Be on time."

I hear a click and busy beeping and smile heartily. Someone is gonna get fucked.

---

Reno didn't like many things. He didn't like to wake up early. He didn't like Thai food. He didn't like masculine girls. He didn't like those incurable morons that left a mug onto a hardwood table without a coaster. And most definitely he didn't like Elena.

At the moment, actually, he was pretty sure he detested Elena. The woman was loudly lecturing him for recklessness, endangering the Turks' reputation, possibly risking to expose the Boss to the media and a myriad of other things Reno – quite frankly – didn't give a fuck about. He focused on his beer and tried to block out the woman's voice along with her words. So far he had done a decent job. The only reason he didn't explode into her face was that he couldn't. She was the same rank as him, so he couldn't just skidaddle her. However, she had one particular aspect in her favor.

Boobs.

And most importantly, what those boobs had earned her was the superior, Tseng. It was a public secret that the two of them were exchanging more than just paychecks, and Reno was rather confident that if he ended up ditching the superior's fuckbuddy, especially now that Tseng was already pissed at him for his earlier flip, he was going to end up scuba-diving with concrete shoes. So he took a long, savoring drink of his fourth Tuborg and tried to cope with the woman's high pitch gradually forcing its way into his consciousness.

He pressed his thumbs onto his eyelids and massaged gently. He needed to relax. This had been a long day. Not really, but mentally. "Waaah, what am I gonna do with my li-i-i-i-ife?" he hollered less than soberly.

"Not become a rock star, that's for sure." Reno felt a grip on his shoulder and turned to face the smirking features of Cloud. And god, had he ever been happier to see Goldilocks! A glimmer of hope flashed in his intoxicated eyes.

"–and besides, Reno, when are you planning on starting to take your job seriously?! You're–"

"Elena, you can stop that already," a smooth voice said to her ear as a hand gripped her shoulder firmly. "Besides, he hasn't been listening a word."

"S-superior Valentine!" she stuttered in surprise. "I didn't expect to see you in here, sir."

Vincent Valentine chuckled lightly. "I, too, do wish to enjoy a glass every once in a while. However, it is not my custom to frequent here, I suppose." His glance traveled around the Irish-style pub and its neat booths with cushioned seats before gesturing at the bartender, ordering a scotch on rocks and joining the two Jackal guys.

"Do you mind...?" Vincent didn't wait for a confirmation before settling into the same table with Reno and Cloud. Their mouths hung agape for a moment before they remembered who had just joined their company and quickly saluted to the superior, Reno far less precisely than usual.

"At ease, men," Vincent smirked and sipped a small mouthful of his drink. Cloud, Reno, and now a bit hesitating Elena as well sat down and each took a gulp of their respective drinks.

For a while, the awkwardness level of the table gradually increased. Cloud had suddenly developed a brand-new interest in his gloves and studied them with such frenzy that whatever it was he had discovered about those pieces of accessory had to be a new scientific break-through. Reno let his eyes wander around the bar (mainly around the waitress girls at the bar) and took a gulp of his drink at even intervals. Elena tried to sweet talk and spill pleasantries to the superior at first, but gave up when the superior only replied with short, dull and equally distancing answers. The silence returned.

For a gang officer, it doesn't hurt to earn some additional respect just by your looks and hearsay. Vincent Valentine was feared, even amongst the Turks. The man was ruthless, cunning, merciless if needed. And most importantly, he looked like some wicked vampire: bleached-white complexion; those haunting red eyes; always a neatly done ponytail completed with a strictly formal tailored suit; and his Death Penalty carefully holstered by his side. He was a striking sight.

Valentine had a fun time watching the three subordinates going from bad to worse under his relentless eyes. He knew he was a menacing sight; in fact, there were only a handful of people who could look him in the eye and not waver. And that he found hilarious! Observing how people literally diminish just by him looking at them was a hobby Vincent never got tired of. That gave him twisted pleasure; he was like a cat for whom all the people were balls of yarn. He toyed with them until he got tired of them, and then he quite simply got rid of them. Swiftly, neatly and efficiently. Boom. A bullet to the brain. Done.

With the Turks, of course, it was different. Valentine respected the Boss, and he practically ranked equal to the heads of divisions. The only reason Tseng was technically above him – and the both of them knew this to be a fact – was that Rufus got along with Tseng better. Vincent was a bit eccentric, he knew that himself, so that's why the baton was passed to Tseng instead. And it didn't bother him; Tseng as well as the rest of the superiors treated him as their equal, and their subordinates saw him as Tseng's right hand. Of course being in the syndicate prevented him from solving everything with anyone with a bullet. But when it came to assassinations, resolving vendettas or just wiping someone out of existence for shits and giggles, Vincent was the man to send. The rumor has it he has never once in his life missed a target. It was whispered that Valentine could hit a postage stamp from the other side of a house, and that as a teenager he had shot his abusive father in the head so that instead of dying, he had been crippled for the rest of his life and left to suffer.

Not all of the whispers were true, of course – he had hit a post-it note from the other end of a football field.

Fun as it was to observe how the trio dealed with being intimidated by him, Vincent eventually cut them some slack.

"I heard your visit to Highwind's little shop earned you a spotlight in the Evening News?" he grinned calmly. Cloud bit his lip and cast his eyes into his gloves yet again, and Reno coughed but replied hesitatingly,

"Uh, yes, sir, I suppose it did."

"I thought it was brilliant!" Vincent would have wanted to laugh at the expressions. The guys' mouths hung agape and their eyes were wide with surprise. Elena looked baffled and a bit irritated.

Reno was the one to recover first. "Re-really?! You think so, superior?" A toothy grin and a nod, and Reno's face lit up.

"It is my firm opinion that that petty boutique has offered me by far the worst customer service ever, and I'd grant it if you would torch the place next time?" He didn't mean it, and his playful grin revealed it, but the little joke had done its job. The three had relaxed and begun conversation, although still rather formally. Still, Vincent was in the mood for some socializing with his men, and even allowed Reno to offer to arrange him a woman for the night. Chuckling, he finished his drink and ordered seconds.

---

"–Heeeeeey, Maacarena! AAAAY!~" Reno bawled cheerfully along the last song they had been listening on the car radio before getting to his place, and took a generous swig of his beer bottle. Cloud rolled his eyes and shrugged to get a better grip of his shithead-wasted partner's arm. Reno slouched against him and took another wobbly step up the stairs.

"Goddammit, Reno, I swear if you start dancing I'm gonna kick you down the stairs myself. Now move!" Cloud spat out as he dragged the redhead forward.

Cloud's head swung and he had to take a quick sidestep to avoid falling over and possibly having the drunken redhead land on top of him. His head throbbed; he was heavily drunk, too, although he didn't turn into a gabbling idiot when wasted. He shut himself away into a shell and got intoxicated in silence. God, how much had he drunk? He had lost count after ten shots. A bile rose into his throat, and the blond briefly considered never drinking again. At least not until the next weekend. And at least not with Superior Valentine ever again.

Things had started going haywire when the superior had started buying them all drinks. For starters, he had ordered a shot tray and challenged his subordinates into a drinking game: whoever finished last had to pay the next round. Only after the second round Cloud had begun to realize the superior kept losing on purpose. He sipped his drinks calmly, relishing the taste, whereas the other three downed their shots on one in order to beat the others and avoid the bill. Vincent also oh so conveniently ignored the fact that the more his subordinates' levels of intoxication increased, the more surely they lost count of their respective drinks and accidentally ended up drinking perhaps one additional shot that Vincent had originally intended for himself. Reno, however, had skillfully overlooked the matter completely as he downed his eighth Purple Hooter shot. His cheeks were rosy and his speech got more and more slurried. Elena had practically knocked herself out before they were done with the second set; her face had gotten an ill shade of white and she had regrettably excused herself and went to the ladies' room to throw up. After about 20 minutes, the superior had ordered with a smug smile a waitress to go wake the woman up and call her a cab. Then he had congratulated the gentlemen on their excellent performance and ordered a new round.

It was a miracle they survived home. Reno's drunk driving surprisingly didn't differ that much from his regular driving, with the exception to the fact that he seemed to have forgotten he was supposed to stay on the lane instead of avoiding it. After three near-misses of other cars, mailboxes and the far side of London Bridge, Cloud had made him give up the keys before someone called the cops. Oh that would have been just wonderful; to explain why the two suspects of a violent assault were drunk-driving on the oncoming lane way above the speed limit in a car associated with the said assault.

"Cloudie, ma man! Hey, bro, ya know wha'? I think I'm a bit drunk, yo." Reno smashed his head into Cloud's arm as a giggling fit took over. His shoulders shook as silent cackling reverberated throughout his body. Cloud snarled in distaste.

"Just walk."

"You're a great buddy, man. Great buddy. Has I ever told ya you're a great buddy, hm?" the redhead's drunken smile spread on his face as he tried in vain to focus his eyes on one Cloud only. Currently there were about three. "Hey... whizz one of yous guys is ma buddy, yo?" he guffawed.

Cloud sighed in relief as the finally reached the door to Reno's apartment. They fumbled with the keys a little, but when the lock clicked open, Cloud booted the door in and dragged them both inside.

Reno's apartment was located in a nice neighborhood in a modern-architecture district of the city. The four-bedrooms-and-a-balcony apartment was furnished with design furniture and the latest technology. The small entrance hall opened up into a spacious living room; the open kitchen was separated from the living space with an open bar and a counter.

Instead of dragging now blacked-out Reno into his bedroom on the far side of the living room, Cloud simply dropped him onto the couch and set him to lay on his side. If the redhead ended up drowning into his own puke in the middle of the night, that surely would make Cloud's day. The drunken flirt muttered something in his sleep, and crawled into fetus position. Cloud snorted and rolled his eyes, then strolled out of the apartment, letting the redhead to sleep it off.

---

Reno's head boomed like a marching band bass drum. He tried to cling onto the last remnants of sleep to avoid the inevitable pain of waking up in undoubtedly terrible hangover. But as sleep left him to suffer, he registered moisture against his cheek and smelled something bitter. His eyes reluctantly fluttered open.

He woke up in a pool of his own vomit, and groaning wiped the stuff off his cheek.

"Eeew-yak!" he growled in hazy disgust and got up. He got to be up only about 30 seconds before he felt his stomach turn, and he rushed for the bathroom. The bile hit the wall of the toilet seat immediately after he reached his position. As he emptied the contents of his stomach down the drain, the distant sound of his cellphone ringing somewhere reached his ears.

"I'm coming, goddammit. Just hold on a sec, yo," he muttered groggily.

"Yeah?" he croaked with a deep voice.

"How you doin', man?" Cloud's voice was lower than usual, too. He had a morning bass as well.

Reno dragged his palm over his face, "Radiant." A muffled snort came from the other end of the line.

"Try drinking some more next time."

"Did'ya want something?" Reno didn't bother covering up his irritation. He really wasn't in the mood for wordplay. What he would have welcomed, though, with open arms was a beautiful woman providing him with mouth play of very different kind, but he refrained from going there. He just wanted a shower, to brush his teeth – preferably with acid – and get something to eat. Oh, how he craved for a pizza, or some kebab, or Indian, or some cheesy bagel, or... Basically anything with lots of fat, carbs and salt in it would do.

"We've got work. Be at Seven Sisters at eleven." Reno assumed he didn't mean AM.

"Wait, you're gonna drive?!"

"You think you're gonna? Taking your car, we might as well put up a neon sign saying, 'Turks here, come and collect'. Dude, torch the car – the cops are looking for it."

"Tch... Whatever..."

"Just do it."

"Sisters at eleven." Reno punched the red button before Cloud had time to keep going about destroying his car. He wasn't going to. It's not like he was stupid, yo. His garage was indoors and private; the cops weren't likely to inspect every house in London to find it. He was simply gonna have it tuned up a little, repainted, plates changed, that's it. There's no way he was gonna torch up his baby! Rufus Shinra – as well as Strife – could lick his balls, for all that he cared. He was keeping her.

Reno tore off his stained clothes and made a mental note to burn them ritualistically. God, how he hated the stench of puke. A slight shudder ran through him and he snarled in disgust before slipping off his boxers as well and stomping into the bathroom.

---

His phone vibrated on the table, and he reached out to check the incoming call. Seeing who it was, he excused himself for a moment and leaved the conference room quietly. Once in a quiet corridor, he picked up.

"Be quick, I can't talk right now."

"Tell the Boss they're buying it."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah. The plan's still on."

"Alright. Be careful." He closed the phone and leaned to the wall, resting his head against it. He let out a deep sigh before turning his attention back to his phone and selecting Eraqus's private number.

"Yes?"

"They're buying it, sir. We're on."

---

"Where the hell's this guy dronin' at?!" I'm trying not to take heed of Reno's mumble-jumble. It isn't doing much to help me to cope with the massive head-ache from last night.

"Shut up, or I'll put a bullet through your brain," I grumble back at him while massaging the bridge of my nose. It helps a little. I lift my eyes when I hear clanging; Reno kicked an empty can to tumble on the ground.

"You know what gets me, yo? People not fucking being on fucking time, man!" he rages on and kicks the can again, this time sending it flying to the other end of the borough. He takes out his cigarettes angrily and grabs one with his teeth, his other hand flying to find his lighter. After a couple of muttered curses, he manages to light his death stick and focuses his excess energy into consuming it. I sigh. Reno as a partner is lousy as it is at times, but painfully hung-over, whiny and pissed-off Reno is a royal pain in the ass at all times. When he's like this, anything and everything is enough to blow his lid off. There was a time when he pulled a gun on a little kid who was crying after his ran-away balloon. The brat's mother nearly had a heart attack. Anger management really has never been one of his strong assets.

Suddenly we hear the unmistakable sound of car tires rasping against grovel, and soon we're bathing in the headlights of the arriving vehicle and the both of us straighten up, my hand instinctively going to the holster of my gun. Reno has pulled out his rod from the hidden holder underneath his jacket and is resting it against his shoulder. I start to walk closer when two people get out of the car, all the while resting my hand lightly over the grip of the Eagle. Reno's strolling next to me, his free hand in his pocket and a smug grin on his face.

The other man is huge; roughly speaking around 6 feet tall and in his forties; short light-brown hair; small, angry-looking eyes; and rough features. He's overweight and his thick neck is decorated with a boring, unoriginal skull tattoo. He's called Scraper, a dealer and a muscle-for-hire thug. The other, however, is only a kid. I'm guessing a few years under twenty, skinny-looking and about as snot-nosed as they come. His eyes seem to be continuously glancing around, scoping, searching for something. His posture is slouched over and frightened, and his hand constantly travels back and forth between his pocket and his white coat's insides. I'm guessing a smaller caliber pistol. I smirk and exchange a wicked look with Reno. I know he knows what I'm thinking, and I know we're thinking the same thing. The guy is nervous, tense, intimidated.

We love first-timers. Virgin meat; like a pig to the slaughter.

"What did the Santa say to a stripper?" I bring up my gun and point it to the bigger one. It doesn't surprise me that the snot-nose also brings out his gun and holds it to me with shaking hands. I try not to roll my eyes; the kid forgot to free the safety.

"You are on my Naughty list."

I lower my weapon and glance over my shoulder to nod at Reno. With a shrug he turns to open the trunk and exchanges his rod into a brown-paper-covered cardboard box. He takes it out to hold for our customers to see.

"Where's the money?"

"Bring it here first! Hafta make sure it's the right stuff," the kid spits out and brandishes his gun at us. He has realized his error and unlocked the safety. I have to admit, I'm surprised. I hadn't expected the kid to have it in him to say anything, much less to press – and excuse me for chuckling out loud here – demands on us.

"We don't do freebie-give-aways, kid. Now, get us the green, you get the stuff," states Reno's astonished but smug voice from behind me, and I bring up my gun again. I have a nasty feeling I might need it this time.

"Seifer… Put down the gun." Scraper has turned to his partner.

"But I…"

"Do as I say, kid. Now!"

I fake a cough to hide my grin. The kid's face is priceless! Reno doesn't bother; he smirks openly, which pisses the snot-nose off even more and he glares daggers at us. Then the big guy turns back to us, nods, and walks to the back door of their car. He pulls out a small suitcase.

I've also lowered my gun again, but I still keep it ready at hand, in case they'd try anything. I don't trust them. The hot-headed kid is an unnecessary risk I'm not keen on dealing with at the moment. If the bastard tries to pull his gun on Reno, I'll shoot his brains out into the wall before he can take aim.

Reno and Scraper exchange the loads, the former grinning, the latter looking like someone's holding a fresh pile of poop under his nose. "A pleasure doing business," Reno taunts the giant with a small bow and takes a few steps back before turning his back to the clients.

Reno steps back and lays the suitcase onto the car hood, opens it and starts counting. I'm watching the other men keenly, looking for any signs of them making an attempt on us. There aren't any. They get inside their car and start up to leave but don't pull off yet.

Not before Reno slams the suitcase cover down and nods at me. The other car revs up and dashes along the borough, disappears behind the corner. I shrug as Reno straightens up and stretches his arms in a carefree way.

"Alright, lets get out of here and get the superior his money, yo," Reno grins at me, and I nod. He puts the suitcase in the back as I get in the car. Reno slams the back door shut and slouches onto the front seat; I pull off.

Night-time London is probably one of the pretties sights someone like me – someone with a profession in crime – can enjoy. In addition to beautiful women and my Eagles of course. Seeing the innumerable lights glimmer on the ripply surface of Thames almost takes my breath away every time. Every time I have to turn my back to the silent display of elegance, I feel longing. I go to the riverbank occasionally also when we don't have to work in the night. I prefer the night. Less people, more quiet. I can't stand tourists tramping everywhere during the daytime.

"Hey... do you remember how the Boss said that there might be a leak?" Reno's unusually thoughtful voice snaps me out of it.

"Uh-huh." What's this now?

"What do you make of it?"

What indeed. I consider how to put my words for a while.

"I dunno, man. Sounds crazy. But if it is true and it's an inside job as they think, it'd have to be someone in the General's men. Have you heard anything?"

"Not really. It's weird, though. I mean, no-one in their right mind would go behind Sephiroth's back." I know what he means. The General has earned a certain reputation, and not for nothing. The man is about as kind and gentle as a starving lion in a sheep shed. "Still, I've heard that the south side's division has had some incidents with the Lights lately. Man, those guys just can't keep to their 'hoods, yo."

"Looks like they need a lesson then." I'm trying to keep the slight amusement out of my voice and aim for passive-sadistic.

"But I swear, man," Reno tilts his seat back and slouches into a more relaxed posture, "– if someone is selling us out... If I ever catch that asshole..." He makes a gun out of his fingers and pretends to shoot. "Boom!" I grin. He does, too.

We meet Tseng at his apartment. He lives in a luxury condo in Kensington Gardens area: four bedrooms, a living room with an open kitchen, a bath tub and a steam sauna, a huge steel-glassed balcony. Not too shabby. His taste in furniture is classical, antiques even. There is an awfully real-looking armor, situated in a display case in the far corner of the large entrance hall. The walls are decorated with neoclassicism period art, and I do believe I know where at least the Vermeer from the Isabella Steward Gardner incident has found its way to.

"How did it go?" he asks us at the door.

Reno doesn't say anything, just lifts the suitcase up with a satisfied smile on his lips. Tseng glances at it and says,

"Come on in."

We enter, and he pulls the door closed behind us, after making sure we're not being tailed. He leads us into the living room at the end of the entrance hall, and I realize the superior's not alone.

On the couch sits Superior Valentine, leaning against the backrest lazily, his right arm loosely wrapped around a beautiful woman. My eyebrows rise, and I momentarily envy the superior. The woman's wearing a daring dress that really flatters her rich curves. She has a long, dark-brown hair and mature yet still cute features. And she's hugging the superior with a flirtatious smile.

On the other couch sits Elena, also dressed up, wearing a tight dark-blue dress with strasses that shine in the dim mood lighting of the room. Her hair is done up in a festive curled do, decorated with ostrich feathers. She takes her glass and winks at us before taking a sip of what I suspect is either champagne or apple juice and mineral water. The woman was so soused last night that I'd think she didn't want a retake quite this soon. Oh well, wouldn't be the first time she surprises me.

Tseng has walked up to a small trolley on which sits on a silver platter an open Bollinger bottle in a bucket of ice. "Would you gentlemen like to join us for a drink?" Tseng lifts the bottle up to our direction. We politely decline the offer; yesterday was quite enough for a while, thank you very much. If I'm not mistaken, Superior Valentine and Tseng exchange bemused looks and Elena clears her throat, scratches the back of her neck and averts her gaze. The nameless beauty chuckles slightly but brings a hand to her mouth to try to conceal it.

"So then... Where's the money?" Tseng demands calmly.

Reno takes the suitcase up again and opens in on the nearby table. Dozens of eyes of Her Majesty Elizabeth II stare at us accusingly as Tseng goes on,

"Is it all?"

"Seventy grand. As agreed, superior." He closes the lid over all the accusing eyes of the numerous queens casting their judging gazes upon us.

"Excellent." Tseng walks to take the money case from Reno. For a moment, we all stand there in stupid silence. After a moment, Tseng asks, stressing every word,

"Reno, a word with you." He glances at me over Reno's shoulder and adds, "In private, if you may."

I make a move to say something before thinking it through. It's caught instantly.

"Was there still something else, Cloud?" He looks at me. Somehow, I get an ill feeling. I don't like the way he says my name.

"No, sir," I reply and salute.

"Then please go on ahead," he says quietly, near menacingly, and I feel more than happy to oblige. I nod for one last time before turning to see myself to the door and beyond... but still turn to spare a look in Reno's direction.

He smiles at me and makes a farewell motion with his fingers,

"I won't be long, yo." With that, he turns to follow Tseng out onto the balcony. I feel the other three's eyes on me as I finally walk out of the door and down the aisle to the lift. The metallic hiss of the doors is only barely audible to me as I step in. I support myself my elbows against the mirror surface of the structure as it starts its descend.

"..." comes out of me more as a whispered sigh than anything close to a real utterance. I inhale a couple of times to relax a little and regain my collected posture just as a mechanical female voice announces,

"Ground floor."

The doors open and I walk across the lobby confidently. The night-guard greets me with a polite nod and a heartfelt "Good night, sir" to which I reply with an absent wave of my hand. But as soon as I get out of the automated double glass doors of the entrance lobby, my shoulders drop as does my face. I drag myself to the car – trying to keep it casual-looking, but I think my going resembles zombie-walking more than anything else – and let myself fall heavily onto the driver's seat. I probably won't have time to do it, but I try to take a nap before Reno gets back nonetheless.

I can't. Sleep is effectively avoiding me, and after a good few minutes of useless attempting to knock myself out, I decide to turn on the radio instead.

"... Was released just this Friday, ladies and gentlemen, and heeere it iiiiis, folks: the amazing Muse with their brand-new single Time Is Running Out – only on Planet London!" The DJ's over-exited voice drowns into the first notes as the song starts playing. I don't really care what they have on, I just want some noise, something else to listen to than my own blood pumping in my ears. Whatever music they have on is probably fine.

The song seems to start quite intensely, and I find myself snapping my fingers along with the rhythm. I don't really mind strong bass boosts, although I don't have a particular favorite. But as the vocalist – was it Matthew-something? I overheard the name in the news the other day, probably related to this release – begins to get into his deal, he really gets my attention. I start listening to the lyrics, too, and I feel the thumping of my heart getting gradually harder, faster, stronger.

"I think I'm drowning, asphyxiated..."

Funny... I kinda think I know what it feels like, man. There's somewhat a ball and an inch-short chain in my own ankle. And I'm not planning on going swimming.

"Bury it, I won't let you bury it..."

I tense up and glare at the radio with poison – as if my raising anxiousness would somehow be its fault. But seriously, dude, this is getting kinda weird! Yeah, yeah, funny coincidences that sometimes a song just so conveniently happens to describe your every emotion and yadda yadda. But this is getting seriously creepy.

"I won't let you smother it..."

I won't!

"I won't let you murder it..."

I gulp. We'll see.

"Our time is running out, Our time is running out..."

Dude, what the–?

Reno pulls the door open just as I was going to turn the radio off. He looks at me like a cow stares at a new stall for a moment and then blinks. I have to admit: I must look pretty weird, my hand semi-reaching out to the radio, and I can only hope my distress isn't showing on my face.

Luckily, it's Reno himself who saves me.

"Hey, is that that new Muse?! The one that was released yesterday?!" A new kind of burning sets ablaze in his eyes and his expression brightens up. I realize he's expecting an answer and I force out, as uninterestedly and evenly as I can muster,

"Yeah, I guess. You wanna hear it? I was about to turn if off."

"Yeah, of course I wanna hear it! I've been waiting for this for weeks, yo!" He grins happily as he hops quickly into the car and starts jamming along the strong beat of the rhythm. I sit still for a while, dumbfounded, glued to the spot. Brainless. The song totally got into me, I can't think for a second.

After a couple of moments that seem like an eternity my mind manages to connect two things into a logical combination:

Start. The car.

I quickly reach to ignite and steal a quick glance at Reno. He has his eyes shut, his head's bobbing back and forth, he's enjoying the music I can no longer even hear. He doesn't seem to have taken heed about my slower than usual starting up. Luckily. I can still feel my heart thumping a bit erratically. But passing of the creepy moment when Matthew-whatever-the-hell-it-was seemed to manage to dig into my thoughts via music – which, by the way, is never playing in my car again, ever! – does wonders to help me collect my cool again. I steer flawlessly onto the center-bound main street as the song finally seems to come to its end.

The traffic's busy tonight, and I have to pay special attention into driving. It's difficult, however, since I can almost taste the discomfort seeping out of my partner. Reno hasn't said a word since the song ended and a new one started. And then another one. And another. He hasn't said anything for good 20 minutes now. It's almost sick.

"Everything alright?" I even turn my head as a sign of concern. I don't like his silence.

His expression seems to perk up. "Yeah, ain't nothing." He in turn turns to look at me, a mischievous grin on his face. A fake one. Oh, Reno, Reno, Reno. I know you better. What do you know?

"Don't be such a bitch. Come on, spit it out: what did Tseng say to you?" As his grin turns into confusion, disbelief even, I exasperate. "Come on, man. You've been like you'd have a zucchini stuck up yours since you got out of there. Don't give me that girly nothing's-wrong bullshit... bitch," I add with a mischievous grin of my own, just to make him crack open and spill his guts for me to see. He knows something, I need to know what it is.

"He wants me to make a drop tomorrow. Alone. He says it's no big deal, just a rat. I manage on my own."

You're lying, Reno. You're not seeing a lousy street-rat drug dealer tomorrow. What did he say to you?

"Oh? What's the deal? Why didn't he just say so then, why did he need me out of the fucking building for that? I'm not trusted?" I try to sound pissed and glare at Reno accusingly.

I wasn't prepared for him to look sad. I gasp. Reno's eyes portray genuine hurt before he frowns irritatedly again,

"I dunno, yo. I dunno what Tseng's thinkin', man. I thought it's bullshit as well, yo!" He means it. At least some of it. "But hey, it's just a job, is all. A goddamn pain in the ass of a job, as a matter of fact, so technically it's you-" He points at me with his index finger and grins a toothy grin, "–who should be thanking me-" before pointing at himself with the thumb, "–for volunteering to take care of the shit so that you can go out and live a little. You need to get laid, man, honestly. Because seriously, bro, what are you, a eunuch? Find a woman, fuck her and loosen up a little. Your lack of getting off is beginning to show." He makes a mocking face and shakes his head.

I give up. Reno won. If, IF he really is just going to deliver some crack for some miserable low-life somewhere... I can't question it any further without seeming suspicious. Otherwise he's gonna start thinking about it, probably far further than is convenient. Reno's not stupid. I can almost see the wheels starting to turn in his head. One of his best qualities as a partner. Currently by far his worst. I can hear the blood thumping again. My fingers feel sticky against the steering wheel.

"Well, thanks... I guess." I try to cover my ass by tilting my head into an angle I know he finds seductive and winking at him. He's always liked it. I've seen the way he looks at me at times. And I know I'm barely saved as he punches my arm and tells me, halfway laughing, to fuck off before he fucks me himself.

I've probably never been more relieved to drop anyone off as I am when I finally pull onto the driveway of Reno's apartment complex. The last half an hour in the car was a non-stop mindfuck I'm not looking forward to retake ever again. For an outsider it probably would have looked like two regular friends, probably close ones at that, were having a blast, laughing at some inside joke from years back and enjoying themselves. I sincerely hope it would have been so. Both of us were constantly trying to keep up appearances and not let the frame collapse onto us, trying to fish out the other one's secret, to squeeze out the truth while masking it into laughs, jokes and ridicule.

Reno gets out of the car a bit reluctantly. He wishes me "Goodnight, Spikehead" before turning to go in, and I pull off almost instantly. Once finally alone since my day took a deep turn south and hasn't straightened up ever since, I pull my hand through my locks and sigh deeply.

I'm knee-high in shit. I fish out my phone and am already browsing the numbers for the correct one, but then change my mind and decide to send a text instead. It's the deal I'm only supposed to call him in a dire emergency. This isn't dire. Not yet.

---

Something's up. Need to talk.

Leon had to reread the words on the screen of his phone a couple of times to actually comprehend what was going on. His still sleepy brains weren't functioning quite as quickly as he would have liked them to. Another groggy glance at his alarm clock informed him that it was stupid-o'clock in the morning; he groaned and pulled his long, dark-brown bangs out of his forehead. He felt movement next to him, and a hand came to rest on his naked lower back.

"What is it?" hummed a sleepy female voice before Leon felt a feathery-light touch of lips on his arm. He sighed.

"I don't know. But it's OK, you should go back to sleep." He turned to lay a kiss on her forehead, and the woman rested her head dreamily against his lips. "I'm," he yawned, "-just gonna make a quick call and come back, too."

"Alright. Goodnight, love," she said and turned her back to him to get into a more comfortable position.

"Goodnight." He cast a loving gaze at her before getting out of the bed with a low groan.

3-fucking-43 in the morning. This had better be important.

Leon walked into the kitchen and drank a glass of water before stomping into the study at the other end of the apartment and punched in the number.

"Hello?"

"Hello yourself. To what I owe this pleasure at such a ridiculous time of the night?" Leon growled into the phone as he rubbed his eyes.

"Shut the fuck up, Leon! You think I'd call for a chit-chat?! I think they're onto me."

"What?" Leon was now instantly up. "Are you sure?"

"Well, not entirely. But I've got the hunch. I blew it, man. They know."

"No, they don't. If they did, you'd be dead by now. Just... relax, OK? I'll think of something."

Leon heard a strangled grunt from the other end of the line and then soft ruffling, which Leon interpreted as a sign of the other one nodding silently. Grasping onto the first semi-comforting thought he got, he went on,

"Where are you?"

"At home."

Well, that at least was good news.

"Are you being followed?"

"I dunno. But my partner got called in to talk with Tseng alone. I didn't like the way it looked."

"You think they're using the partner to check up on you?"

"Point being."

Leon sighed something that sounded an awful lot like "shit".

"What do we do?"

Leon took a deep breath and exhaled for a long time. There was only one thing to do.

"We keep going. We stick to the plan. You just lay low and play it cool, OK? Think of something. But be careful!"

"... I knew you'd say that." The smile was evident in the tone.

Leon chuckled lightly. After all these years, he still knew him.

"This is some fucked-up shit, man."

"I know. I'll see you tomorrow."

Leon heard a cold click and then beeping sound. Not that he had expected a goodnight. He fisted a few locks of his hair and snarled in darkness before throwing his phone angrily onto the nearby armchair and going back to bed. There was nothing he could – or would – do about the situation tonight. He would worry about it the first thing in the morning.

---

The smell of coffee filled the insides of a wine-colored CR-V. Reno unwrapped a bagel he had bought to go and closed his thermo. He relished the smell of fresh coffee and roast beef before sinking his teeth into the bread and tearing off a large chunk. The steady beat of that brand-new Muse song re-played quietly in the background for the umpteenth time since he had been parked outside Cloud's upper-class apartment building, far enough not to draw attention but close enough to be able to see the main entrance and the ramp leading into the underground parking hall.

It had been at least five hours already, and so far: nothing. The most important thing Reno had witnessed during his surveillance operation was a voluptuous babe with a hair almost as bright red as his own and an ass to score billions to leave the building and take a cab.

What the hell was he doing here? This was pointless. But it was the direct orders of the superior. He sipped at his coffee and took another bite of his bagel, licking his lips to wipe off a mustard spill. What is this place, anyway, a morgue or something? Was no-one but the curvaceous beauty going to go out and spend a genuine nice Sunday on Oxford Street or Piccadilly or wherever? These people couldn't be that boring that they'd just stay indoors for the entire fucking day, could they possibly? Two people, including the lady, had gone in or come out of the main door in five hours.

"What a bunch of joy you guys are..." He downed the rest of his coffee and opened the window to throw away the paper mug. As Reno once again leaned back to relax against his seat, his thoughts drifted back to the conversation with Tseng. He still didn't want to believe it – more like refused to believe it – and he made a face at the memory of his superior.

Reno slid the glass door closed behind him and walked over to the superior, his hand bringing out his cigarettes and picking one. Tseng was leaning over the railing, his back turned to him.

With the unlit cigarette in his mouth, Reno said, "So, what's up, sir? Have I been naughty again?"

"Reno, what do you think of your partner?" Tseng didn't look at him.

"Strife?" Reno blinked. Well this was unexpected.

"Yes, Strife. What do you make of him?"

Reno chuckled and laid a smirk on his face before answering. "The most uptight asshole I've ever met. Also the best shot I know. A sense of humor of a fire hydrant. Can't woo ladies to save his cock."

"Do you think he's trustworthy?" Tseng said, finally turning to face Reno. His expression betrayed nothing: his eyes were hard, mouth a thin line, brows slightly furrowed but not in an irritated way.

"Huh?" Reno gasped and the cigarette fell out of his mouth. This got him off guard. However, after the initial confusion, the wheels started to turn. He understood the connections his superior was aiming at, and didn't like the path Tseng was leading him down.

"Are you saying that Goldilocks would be a squealer? Is that it, superior?" Reno almost hissed. The mere suggestion got his blood boiling for some reason.

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

Tseng turned towards the small French coffee table sitting on the balcony next to two cane chairs and picked up a set of car keys. He turned again to face Reno, who was now visibly snarling. "You are to keep an eye on him. Do it inconspicuously. Don't use your car." He handed out the keys which Reno snatched irritatedly before eying them with suspicion.

"'CR-V'? You're giving me an SUV? What, do I look like a mother hen?" he spat out incredulously but pocketed the keys anyway.

Tseng chuckled a bemused laugh, "It's about as far from your usual car as realistically possible. It's delivered into your garage. Look for the wine color."

Reno couldn't believe this shit. They were actually planning on him spying on his partner – using a wine-colored SUV, to top it all.

"... Cloud's been a Turk – a Jackal – for six years, Tseng. So what's the deal here? What do you think you have on him?" he snarled at the superior.

Tseng hardly bat an eye at his temper tantrum. Instead he let the redhead to let out some fume. Reno had a quick temper and was known to be extremely loyal. It was understandable that hearing sudden suggestions like these could be interpreted as accusations. Still, he supposed he owed him an explanation. After all, he himself didn't fancy the idea of the possible culprit of a treason to lurk amongst his men – even less amongst his best men and friends – either. If anything, he wanted to do this to clear the suspicion and have his top-gun on the field again.

He sighed before going on. "We don't have anything yet, Reno. Calm down."

"So what the fuck's going on then?!" Reno's cool was beginning to crackle.

"I said, calm down!" Reno looked like he wanted to spit something poisonous back at the superior but swallowed it the last second and held his tongue. "Now, as I was trying to say, you two are wanted to secure the shipment in two weeks."

"Yeah?"

"Superior Sephiroth doesn't trust him," Tseng blurted out bluntly. Reno's eyes widened at the mention of the name and he momentarily forgot to breathe. "He didn't like the reactions and the expressions Strife was giving out at the Boss's office yesterday. He doesn't trust him." Tseng stopped to think how he should break this to Reno. He didn't like the deal himself, either, and he supposed that Reno was about boiling inside right now. In all honesty, he had expected an eruption already.

"Sephiroth's excellent at reading people, Reno, and he thinks Strife is suspicious. He wants to monitor him until the load is here to ensure Cloud's loyalty. We have two weeks to convince him. You know the General isn't above eliminating one of the Turks' own if he sees it necessary. And he's not risking almost 2 million pounds' worth of load for a potential leak. If he sees Cloud as a security threat... Well, let's just say he'll get rid of it."

For Reno, this bullshit was going through the roof. Tseng was groveling in the ground in front of that posh by letting him interfere with the Jackals! And now he's expected to survey his partner because some other division's head didn't like the way the spikehead presents himself in front of higher-ups. And if they failed to prove the General Strife wasn't the squealer, he'd be a head shorter before he would have time to blink. Reno clenched his fists tightly and snarled.

"And what do you think about it, sir? Do you trust him?" Reno's eyes burned with rage as he glared at the other man. Probably that's why Reno felt a sting of guilt when the superior's tired, quiet voice replied slowly,

"Of course I trust him, Reno. But you know General Sephiroth's my superior – I can't just cross him. And the Boss trusts his judgment over mine. He won't care. I don't like the idea of tailing him, either, but if that's what it takes to find out his true colors, then so be it."

Reno was speechless, his head was empty. He knew anger, disappointment, even the beginnings of rising mistrust. Both men stared at the balcony in silence for a moment, each trying to gather their thoughts.

"Very well... If it's an order, sir, then I guess I have no choice. What do you want me to do?" Reno spoke slowly from behind clenched teeth, still keeping his eyes on the balcony. He was afraid that if he faced the superior right now, he might jump and strangle him at the spot. And that wouldn't be pretty.

Tseng had managed to regain his composure. He stood up straight and tall and spoke with an even, professional tone,

"Well, if we do this, we need to do it properly. Strife is smart – anything out of the ordinary and he'll realize he's being watched. If he does, and if he were the squealer," Tseng made a point to stress the possibility, "–he would cease any activities that would potentially give him away, thus rendering the operation pointless. Whatever you do, Reno, you must keep this a secret at all costs. Use excuses, refer to my private orders, anything – I'll back your story up should Strife begin asking questions."

Tseng pulled out of his pocket a small device with a flat screen and tossed it at Reno, who caught it securely. "While he was up here with you, I had my men to wire his car. This shows you his location at all times." Tseng clicked a switch and a red dot begun flashing on the screen, amongst finer green lines. "Follow him. But make sure you're not seen. You're my best spy and con-artist, Reno, make some use of it. If he does anything, anything out of the ordinary, even as much as blows his nose into a different tissue than before, you let me know. Am I clear?" Tseng's tone indicated he was done with the conversation.

"You're clear, sir."

In TV, surveillance operations and tailing of a suspect is always made look intense and interesting. But after sitting in front of an obviously humorless if not brain-dead apartment building, watching for any signs of the blond's movement, for six hours, Reno was beginning to think that police shows on TV were probably the biggest load of crap since the invention of lying. He was bored out of his mind. Not even the new Muse succeeded in keeping his interest in the building's entrance anymore.

The street around him had darkened as the nightfall gradually approached the sleepy neighborhood. Reno glanced at his watch to read the time: 7:35 PM. Not even 10 PM yet! He groaned and threw his his head back and relaxed himself on the seat. This was so boring! During the lonely hours he had done nothing but sat in the front seat of that god-forbidden SUV, with the exception of leaving for 20 minutes to get a sandwich, his mind had effectively produced several optional ways of spending time without leaving his position.

He could always call some erotic hotline for some semi-satisfactory phone-sexing.

He could make prank calls and order the Boss 20 pizzas from 20 different pizza places for home delivery, knowing full well they would never reach their destination.

He could take a nap and try to make up for some of the sleep deprivation he had acquired lately.

He could... get to work.

Apparently he could get to work, if the relentless beeping of the tracking device was anything to go by: the target was moving. Reno jolted up and yawned, stretched out and rubbed his eyes. Sheesh, apparently he had been exhausted to just drop like that. Reno fished out his phone to check the time again, and his brows rose when he realized he had easily slept for two and a half hours, just like that. He chuckled a little before rubbing the last of sleep out of his eyes and focusing his eyes onto the main entrance again.

The darkness had deepened into full night while he was happily out in his private slumber land. The only source of light were the street lamps as well as the decorative garden lighting set in the front yard of the apartment complex. Soon the amount of light seemed to double, though, and the device sounded like it was about to explode with erratic beeping. Reno had to throw his jacket on top of it to muffle the annoying sound. He turned his eyes back to the entrance just in time to see Cloud's sporty BMW to spurt out of the garage onto the street. It's headlights consumed the darkness, and Reno quickly duck down to hide before he could have been seen. A roaring burst of light rushed by him, and the darkness returned as the rumble of a large motor withdrew from him rapidly.

Where could he be going at this time? Reno pondered. When he was certain that Cloud couldn't possibly see his SUV any more, he started up and dug out the beeping demon-of-an-equipment and smashed the Mute button perhaps a bit harder than would have been necessary. He turned to follow the red dot on his small map as it hastily covered block after block after block.

Reno's eye brows rose when he realized where Cloud was headed. "Soho?!"

Reno couldn't think of many reasons why Cloud would want to go to Soho after 10 PM on a Sunday. I fact, he could only think of one. A predatory smirk spread on his face and he pushed the pedal down further.

---

The 7th Heaven was a high-class erotic club at the more expensive part of Soho. It was famous for its dancing performances and burlesque, and the tasteful numbers also brought in female customers. The pinkish purple neon-signs portrayed the outlines of two unrealistically booty-licious girls in seductive poses, and the name of the bar was printed using the Disney-style typography. The general atmosphere of the place was themed after "Disney for adults": the waitresses wore sexed-up versions of the classical Disney princesses' outfits, and the drinks were titled after the theme. One could only imagine what kind of money the place must have paid for the Disney corporation to get the rights to use them. Reno's guess was: a lot.

Sunday was usually a quieter evening, but nonetheless the parking lot was almost full, and Reno decided to leave the car a couple of blocks away, out of sight, and approach on foot.

Cloud had walked in about fifteen minutes ago. Reno had caught up to him and got there just in time to see the blond stomping across the parking lot and get in.

So he was straight, after all. Reno smirked in the darkness. Thank god it was this Cloud had headed off to. For a second there, he had had him almost worried. But knowing – hell, seeing – how sexually frustrated his partner had become lately, soon Reno would have been forced to hire him a hooker hadn't the spikehead done so himself. God, it's painful to watch such incompetence. Daily.

Sometimes Reno wondered how come Cloud didn't seem to do much to woo ladies. He was fine-looking, gorgeous even – heck, Reno himself had sometimes fantasied about the spikehead, just to play around with the thought a little. But Reno got lucky with the ladies eight times out of ten whenever he was looking for a score for the night. But Cloud... Reno didn't remember seeing him with anyone for a while. Reno didn't think it was because girls wouldn't find him attractive. To be honest, he had started to question his partner's orientation. Not that he had anything against gay guys, he was liberal like that. But... constantly getting around, joking, semi-flirting with someone who you'd taken to be a straight but who then turns out to be, well, not strictly straight... The idea had seemed difficult for Reno.

But this... this was perfect. He could report to Tseng that out of the ordinary, his partner had finally scored a fuck, although from a paid woman, and he himself could look forward to working with less irritable, less uptight Cloud in the next few days. Reno almost chuckled as he slipped inside.

The dim-lit corridor decorated with daring photos of girls in various stages of undress led him into the very essence of erotica. The club had only one main hall, but balconies giving a view onto the main stage were in three upper floors, of which only the two lower ones were open for the general customers. The third floor was reserved for VIP customers and the managers' private guests. The tables in each floor were all private booths for four to ten people, each nicely shaded and providing a sense of privacy for the occupants. Each table was also equipped with a small metal bank box for tips. The 7th Heaven had a shared system: all the tips were shared equally amongst all the girls. Everyone was earning for everyone, not just for themselves. That kept dealing with customers civil as well as the quality of the performances top notch. No-one would pay for poor strip-tease.

A quick glance around the club was enough to inform him that as per usual, the place was rather crowded with only a few free booths here and there. Next to the large bar of the ground floor was an open doorway shielded with a sensual red curtain that was mood-lighted to turn up the heat. That was where the magic happened.

On the theater-like stage, a pole dancing girl performed some exquisite number. Reno admired her for a while before searching his surroundings for a nicely shielded spot to keep an eye on the room without being seen himself. He hadn't seen Cloud yet, but he couldn't risk standing up and attracting attention. Of course, nothing was to say he was on this floor, but it would be too risky to look around too much. Reno counted on his luck: he'd spot him eventually. At the latest when the guy would stumble back from behind the red curtain area. He smirked.

Reno occupied one of the smaller booths situated at the back of the room, conveniently semi-shielded from the club's lighting by a pillar. He studied the room and other customers hungrily, but no Cloud. Once he'd thought he'd seen him, but once the blond head had turned, he had realized he'd been looking at a female customer with a hairdo awfully similar to Strife's. Reno made a mental note to usher his partner to the gym once this whole surveillance business was done with. He looked way too much like a woman for his own good. Maybe that's why he wasn't getting any: maybe the girls got the feeling they'd be shagging another woman and dropped it. It would probably be the best if Strife stopped shaving as well, just to be on the safe side.

A waitress dressed up as Jasmine-gone-bad came to take Reno's order. He took a quick glance at the drink list, chose an intriguing-sounding title and ordered a Poison Apple – first time for everything, right? While he waited for his drink, his attention got directed to the pole dancing woman. At the moment she was hanging upside down on the pole and slowly, teasingly sliding down it. Her muscular torso was fully stretched and Reno couldn't fail to notice her defined abs as well as strong arms. Beautiful, but not quite the type he preferred – a bit too muscular for his tastes – but the woman had nice facial features: angled, well-defined features contrasting with a full, superfluous dark-brown hair that had been curled to give it additional volume. She was a skilled dancer, and succeeded in both flirting with her audience just the right amount to get their attention but still kept it playful and chaste. Reno enjoyed watching the woman's number, and contributed loudly when her routine ended and she left the stage with a loud round of applause.

His drink took some time, but Reno paid no heed to that. The place was crowded, and he still hadn't noticed Cloud. Reno begun to wonder if he should try and move to the upper floors for his search, but his problem was solved for him.

On the other side of the room, Cloud passed in between the booths hastily, heading towards the bar. Well, that's perfect, Reno though, he'll be his back towards me. His eyebrows rose, however, when Cloud didn't stop at the bar but instead headed straight through the red-curtained doorway. A smug smile set onto his lips and he relaxed onto his seat. No need to rush, buddy. At least now I know where you'll be the half an hour plus.

The waitress interrupted Reno's inevitable trail of thought when she got him his drink. Reno, clutching the waitress's hand in his pleasurably for a second, informed her that now it's a party and asked her to bring another one straight away. With a baffled look and a confused glance towards the first, still untouched drink, the waitress left with an unsure "yes, sir", undoubtedly to warn her colleagues about a potential freak in booth 28. Reno grinned and brought the drink to his lips, and took a healthy sip.

"Bleergh!" Reno made a disgusted face after downing the first mouthful and immediately regretted ordering seconds of the same foul liquid. "Tastes like reindeer piss..."

He didn't have time to bitch about the drink. Suddenly, an alarm sounded from inside his pocket, and he jumped a little in surprise. He dug his hand into his pocket to fish out the damned tracking device that had become alive with a sound so ear-splitting Reno feared it's suffocate the club music and bust him. "Damn it, didn't I mute you before?!" he muttered.

Wait, why's it beeping? And why's the dot... moving?

Realizing his screw-up too late, a cold shudder ran down Reno's spine and he literally jumped up from his seat. He was already rushing out of the booth, and furthermore out of the club, but his eyes caught the half-emptied glass on the table. With a grunt, Reno took out his wallet and pulled out a hundred-pound bill. That'd be plenty to cover two drinks – the girls can keep the rest. Let it be some tip for the pole dancer, Reno thought while stuffing his wallet back into his pocket, and almost ran out of the club.

"What the fuck...?" he wondered as he pulled the SUV's door open and hopped in. "Where're you going, buddy...?" Reno couldn't comprehend this. Cloud had to have – that's the conclusion he had arrived to while running to his vehicle – used the staff back-door on the backstage to get out. But why? Why would he do that, why? If he just wanted to get out of the place, why not leave the usual way? Had he blown it? Had Cloud realized he's being tailed and ran? But why would he have ran...? Had he known Reno's there to keep an eye on him, why not come and kick the shit out of him fair and square? Why run? And where to?

Reno took another glance to locate his target. When he had left, it had seemed like Cloud was headed north. Now Reno could locate him more clearly.

"Camden?!" he exclaimed. What the fuck was he going to Camden's direction for? Camden area was a Lights territory. Reno couldn't believe it. No, it can't be. This is fucked up. He refused to believe that Cloud could be...

"What the fuck are you doing, man?!" Reno snarled as he pressed the pedal down harder. The CR-V dashed trough the dark boroughs of London.

---

The dot had stopped moving at the small backyard of the Irish pub Jolly Roger located in southern Camden, a few blocks away from the Camden Town Market area and main street. Reno arrived a good ten minutes after Cloud had apparently parked his car. He found a street parking slot a couple of buildings from Jolly Roger and left everything but his cellphone inside. He wouldn't need the tracking device; somehow, his instincts told him this is where Cloud had been headed all along.

Using all of the hiding and masking skills he could muster, Reno moved silently amongst the shadows. A wall after another was left behind as he gradually made his way towards the pub, and more importantly towards its backyard. He used small alleyways, shadowy staircases, slipped over a fence quietly to sneak closer. When he was certain he had almost reached the place, he tip-toed along another narrow, darkened alleyway to get a view onto the backyard. But as he did, he immediately wished he never had.

Cloud was there. He was leaning against the wall casually, seemingly not caring about hanging around in the enemy territory. And he kept glancing at his clock. As if he was... waiting for something? The blood in Reno's veins seemed to boil suddenly as suspicion rose inside him. What the hell was the spikehead doing? This cannot be happening...

A sudden clang and low cussing somewhere behind him made his heart jump into his throat and he froze to the spot. The blood was thumping in his ears and he pressed himself more tightly against the wall and prayed that the shadows of the alleyway provided enough cover. He was in the enemy territory, which as it was would have been a reason enough for the Lights to lynch him at sight, no questions. For a couple of heartbeats Reno didn't even breathe. Suddenly he almost gasped but stopped himself at the last second as he saw movement at the other end of the alleyway. A dark-haired man passed his hiding place mere meters from where he was lurking in the shadows. Well-defined but feminine features, long dark-brown hair with bangs, hard eyes and a serious expression. And on his back, the heart-shaped symbol of the Lights. And looking an awfully lot like he was headed to the general direction of Jolly Roger's backyard.

"Hello, Squall," Cloud's voice sounded friendly as he greeted the newcomer.

"It's Leon. And good to see you, too, man. It's been forever!" the other one said cunningly but the way you talk to a friend.

Reno couldn't believe this. This... wasn't happening. There had to be a misunderstanding, something was wrong here, yo. This just... wasn't... His eyes widened and mouth hung agape as the two men shook hands and... hugged – fucking hugged! – like close friends. His initial confusion soon turned to rage, betrayal, mistrust as the dark-haired Light went on,

"What's up?"

Don't do it, Cloud. Goddammit, don't say it. Don't say a fucking thing.

"Nothing new, I suppose. Dealing drugs, dodging doubts, dispensing delusion."

"Carefully selecting your wording..." Leon chuckled.

Cloud laughed a little as well and ruffled his hair. "How's everyone? The old man Eraqus, Terra and Sora? Rinoa – or is it Mrs. Leonhart nowadays?"

"Nah, we're postponing the wedding until the summer. She says she wants to be a summer bride. Women, you know? As for everyone else, yeah, they're doing fine. The Boss kinda works Sora a bit too hard, though. He's exhausted." Leon silenced for a moment before adding,

"Dude, what you said last night... To be honest, I wasn't sure you'd make it." Cloud shrugged.

"Were you followed?"

"I don't think so. Or if there was someone, they'd be thinking I'm currently getting a lap dance in 7th Heaven." Reno wanted to shoot Cloud on the spot for the smirk that manifested on the man's face.

Leon nodded. "What's going on with the Turks? You said they're onto you."

"The figures have changed. Now Sephiroth wants us – Reno and I, I mean – to protect the shipment. Says he fears the Lights activity." Cloud snorted and smirked before adding, "But that's two days ago. I dunno, man, there's something weird about him. It's like Sephiroth could see through me. I got a nasty feeling about how he was looking at me the other night. And yesterday, Tseng was the same when he said he wanted to talk with Reno in private. They must have been talking about me since when Reno came back to the car, he was acting all awkward. I just got the feeling they know too much."

Leon grabbed his arms and forced him to look at him.

"Listen, Cloud. This isn't child's play. If you've screwed this up, we have to abort. There's no way Boss Eraqus is risking his men for a guess. Just answer me: do they know about the plan?"

"Get off me!" Cloud shrugged the brunette off himself and took a step back.

"Answer me, do they know? Yes or no?"

"No, alright?! No, they don't!" Cloud nearly spat at him. "At least... I don't think so," he added less aggressively.

Reno felt physically sick. So there was a leak. And the leak was Strife, there was no denying it. Cloud had indeed been shitting them for- for how long? Months? Years? Hell, had he ever been a Turk in the first place?! He clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into the skin of his palms, but he didn't care. His insides were burning. He wanted to kill something, preferably Strife, so bad! Aggression seeped through him like poison, and he decided he had heard enough.

The brunette's voice, however, made him freeze,

"So, do you think we can go on with the operation?"

"I'm doing this to squash the Turks, Leon. I'm in this deeper than any of you. I say we do this."

A coup d'etat? Reno was positive he had never heard that determination in Cloud's voice before. Whatever "this" was was something big. And he was looking forward to torturing it out of him.

Silently he sneaked further from his spying spot, slowly and surely at first but once he couldn't hear the voices of the two men anymore, he spurted into run. He didn't care if he was heard anymore, he had heard enough himself. His face distorted into hateful snarl as he rushed along the dark boroughs towards his car. It occurred to him that the Light might have brought some backup to secure the streets for their little rendezvous, but he didn't care. Be it a Light, be it ten, he'd kill 'em all. Bring it! I dare you, I double-dare you, motherfuckers! Give me a reason.

He wasn't given any. The streets were empty as he got back to his car and threw the door open with way too much power. The joints creaked nastily, which only enraged Reno a bit further. He hopped into the car and slammed the door shut. He sat there, shaking with anger before punching the passenger's seat furiously. "Goddammit... Goddamn it all..." he grumbled furiously, shaking and biting his teeth together tightly. "Goddamn it, Strife!" The seat took another beating.

Seemingly out of his initial rage, Reno sat there breathing deeply to calm himself a little. Two solid thoughts repeated and repeated themselves in his mind. Strife is a traitor. I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him, then revive him and kill him again. In a dream-like state he fished out his phone and looked up Tseng's number. He pressed the green phone.

"Yes, Reno, what is it?"

"Sir? We've got a problem."

His voice like ice, Reno explained the situation to the superior. There was a long, heavy silence at the other end, as if the superior, too, had been devastated by the news and tried to think of a way to deal with it. Finally Reno heard his heavy voice saying,

"Follow him. Don't let him out of the city. I'll send back-up, and a team to guard his apartment. And Reno... I want him alive."

---

"Hello, Squall." I know how much he hates being called by his real name – by anyone but his fiancée, that is.

"It's Leon. And good to see you, too, man. It's been forever!"

I move in to shake Leon's out-stretched hand and hug him briefly. It really has been a while.

"What's up?"

I shrug. "Nothing new, I suppose. Dealing drugs, dodging doubts, dispensing delusion."

"Carefully selecting your wording..." Leon chuckles and crosses his arms across his chest.

I give a little laugh. "How's everyone? The old man Eraqus, Terra and Sora? Rinoa – or is it Mrs. Leonhart nowadays?" I wink at him and nudge his arm.

"Nah, we're postponing the wedding until the summer. She says she wants to be a summer bride. Women, you know?" I roll my eyes: Rinoa's used to having her way with practically anything. Apparently Squall hasn't changed in that matter.

"As for everyone else, yeah, they're doing fine. The Boss kinda works Sora a bit too hard, though. He's exhausted."

"Dude, what you said last night... To be honest, I wasn't sure you'd make it." I shrug. I'm willing to take the risk.

"Were you followed?"

"I don't think so. Or if there was someone, they'd be thinking I'm currently getting a lap dance in 7th Heaven."

"What's going on with the Turks? You said they're onto you."

I frown before answering. "The figures have changed a little. Now Sephiroth wants us – Reno and I, I mean – to protect the shipment. Says he fears the Lights activity. But that's two days ago. I dunno, man, there's something weird about him. It's like Sephiroth could see through me. I got a nasty feeling about how he was looking at me the other night. And yesterday, Tseng was the same when he said he wanted to talk with Reno in private. They must have been talking about me since when Reno came back to the car, he was acting all awkward. I just got the feeling they know too much."

Leon grabs me a bit painfully. "Listen, Cloud. This isn't child's play. If you've screwed this up, we have to abort. There's no way Boss Eraqus is risking his men for a guess. Just answer me: do they know about the plan?"

"Get off me!"

"Answer me, do they know? Yes or no?"

"No, alright?! No, they don't!" My answer sounds more irritated that I meant it to be. "At least... I don't think so."

"So, do you think we can go on with the operation?"

I stress every word as I give him my answer. "I'm doing this to squash the Turks, Leon. I'm in this deeper than any of you. I say we do this."

Leon nods in understanding. He knows I've been risking my life for years to get revenge. He's not gonna let me down. "Alright. We stick to the plan. In about two weeks."

"Thank you." I can already see the slaughter, the perfect downfall of Rufus Shinra and his scum empire. We're so close. To Boss Eraqus, gaining control of whole Greater London area is probably a nice piece of cake: double the earnings, double the men. But all I care about is a chance to bring down the syndicate and put a bullet or two into Shinra's skull. I can almost taste blood already. But until then...

"So, what's gonna happen now?"

Leon shakes his head. "You need to get out of the city. Out of the country would be even better. You can't make any contact with the Turks anymore. If they are suspecting you, there's a high chance they're keeping an eye on you. And once you're gone, they are sure to realize they've been played and start a manhunt. Get what you need and leave before sunrise. We'll meet you around the Turks' HQ on the D-Day."

I nod. I know he's right. I have to get out of here. Get out of the city, destroy the car and snatch a new one somewhere. Maybe I'll go to Wales. I've always wanted to visit the countryside.

"I should get going then. I'll still need to get back to the 7th Heaven. I owe some ladies some money for their extra-long services, after all." I wink at Leon, who grins in return.

"You're not too cheap to use any means, are you, Strife?"

"When you're putting your life on the line, nothing's too cheap, man. See ya, buddy." I flick my fingers for a farewell and get into my car. Leon stays back and watches me to leave.

---

The red dot indicated that Strife's car had returned to the strip club. So you're masking your visit to your little Light-sie pal at Camden, are you? Making sure that if someone was to keep an eye on you, they'd be seeing you also getting out from receiving private pleasure behind those red curtains. For it wouldn't work that you'd just disappear, now would it? Oh, you're smart, asshole.

Too bad Tseng's smarter.

Reno waited patiently inside the SUV and took a glance at his team mates in the three other cars parked next to his vehicle. They had also come using ordinary family cars, not the usual sporty models of the Turks to not draw attention. The four cars sat in a neat line in the garage of Cloud's apartment complex. Ten men plus Reno himself. Tseng surely was playing this on the safe side.

Then again, Strife wasn't to be underestimated. He equaled to three ordinary street thugs in performance, and although Reno hadn't seen them, he suspected Cloud had his guns with him in the car. It was like a neurosis: the guy hardly even went shopping without them. The Eagles made him to equal seven. Extra hands would come in, well, handy.

"Hey! Hey, guys, Strife's moving, get ready!" Reno instructed his men when the tracking device had once again started beeping. The men got out of their cars and to the best of their abilities took cover and hid behind pillars, other cars, whatever they could find to conceal their presence. Reno shook his head but deemed their cover suitable enough. No-one was immediately noticeable, at least not from the angle Strife would have to drive his car into the garage. They would pulls this off.

Reno clenched his teeth into an ugly snarl as the abhorrent memory from only an hour before rushed back into his mind. For how long had he been working with – even working for – a fucking turncoat? Tseng had said he wanted Cloud alive. He hadn't specified the condition or in how many pieces that would be, as long as the guy breathed. No matter what the superiors would think, Reno would beat the answers out of the bastard if it were the last thing he would do. Flames burned in his eyes as he imagined the torture he would inevitably put the asshole through. And that would be before he'd be turned in to the superior.

The red dot approached rapidly. Reno got himself ready. He had planned this before hand: he'd be waiting out of sight until he was sure Cloud had gotten out of his car. Then he'd take him on first hand, first alone, until the backup had him surrounded. He'd prepared to lose a few lives – it was highly likely Cloud would try to make a run for it, possibly shooting a few men. Reno guessed Tseng had counted on that possibility as well. He knew Cloud almost as well as Reno did.

Reno let out a small gasp as he noticed his hands shook. Out of anger? Possibly. Still, no matter how enraged Reno was, it didn't change the fact he had worked as a team with the blond for almost six years. It'd been a long time. Now he was apprehending him for treason. He couldn't help feeling pity, knowing full well what that would make Cloud. A punching bag didn't quite describe it. There was still a part of him that didn't want to have to see his partner suffer. Only a small part, but a part anyway. However, that tiny voice was forcibly overpowered by anger and betrayal, which were far more evident.

He was only a couple of blocks away, and Reno muted the device and signaled his men to get ready. He took cover behind his SUV. Soon there was the sound of a sports car's motor, and the garage ramp bathed in artificial light. Cloud drove in and turned to his reserved slot. He got out of the car hastily and clicked it locked. Without looking back he started towards the tenants' entrance to the housing floors. Before he was half-way, though, he stopped dead to his tracks as he saw something that froze the blood in his veins.

Reno was leaning against the metal door leading up the apartments. Cloud felt his heart stop.

"Hello, Cloud," Reno's eyes burned with hatred as he imitated the tone Cloud had used to greet Leon. Disgust was written all over his face.

Fear, raw and unfiltered terror rushed through Cloud and he forgot to breathe. His mouth hung agape and quivered a little. He knew they knew. And he knew he was fucked. He took a couple of tentative steps back before hearing approaching footsteps from behind him. He snapped his head into the direction of the sound, and his eyes widened.

He was surrounded. Turk grunts were creeping closer to him from all sides, some armed with guns, the others had brass knuckles, iron bars and knives.

"Going somewhere, Strife? One visit to the Lights wasn't enough for the night?" Reno's voice was like poison. Cloud only needed to steal a quick look into his eyes to know Reno had seen him. The only question remaining now was how much he had heard. There was no talking his way out of this. There was nothing he could do.

Except try to run.

Cloud pulled out his guns he had hid under his coat, and pointed them at the lackeys at his both sides, his eyes glued onto Reno's. For a few seconds no-one moved. Then Cloud dashed.

An Eagle fired. The grunt to Cloud's five o'clock didn't even have time to take aim before he dropped dead, the blond already leaping over the body. He didn't turn to look behind him as Reno roared, "Get him!" He heard running footsteps following him, that was information enough. Cloud dug behind a car barely in time to dodge a bullet directed to his head.

"Idiot! We need him alive!" Reno hollered as he carefully approached Cloud's hiding place. "You're not getting away, Strife! Give up!"

Cloud gave no answer. Instead he started moving again. The ramp was his only hope. He either reached it or died trying. As he jumped back up from behind his temporary safe haven, he shot another Turk: clean in between his eyes, and the man fell forward heavily, causing the other Turk following right behind him to lose his balance and land on top of his dead comrade with a low groan. Cloud dashed towards the ramp. It was close. So close. His freedom awaited for him behind only a few cars, pillars and less than 10 meters of concrete.

There was the sounding of a third gun shot, and a pained yelp; Cloud felt himself sink onto the ground as a new kind of agony seeped upwards from his thigh. One of his Eagles dropped haphazardly a few feet from him. The air around him smelled of metal and his vision begun to blur. He tried to fight his consciousness rapidly fleeting him as the pain engulfed him.

Reno lowered his hand that was clutching the slightly smoking gun, and eyed his prey warily. Even a wounded animal might still bite you. Keeping his pistol steadily aimed at Cloud's head, he approached carefully. When he was close enough, he yanked the still remaining gun away from his hand and threw it far behind his back.

Through hazy vision Cloud watched helplessly as his last hope for survival was seized from him and cast aside. A grunt fetched it and emptied its magazine. A barrel was pressed against his temple and Cloud hissed as he met Reno's unrelenting eyes. They were pure loathing as he ordered coldly, "Get him up." Cloud was dragged up from the ground, which twisted his injured leg and he let out a cry of pain.

Reno slammed his brass-knuckled fist heavily into Cloud's yielding stomach. The man gasped in pain and sunk against his fist, groaning. Reno could see he bit his lip to stop himself from whimpering. Hurts, doesn't it, bastard? Enjoy it.

Cloud wondered if the taste of blood in his mouth was because he had bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood. God, he was scared. His leg hurt, he couldn't put much weight on it, and he had to take only small gasps to get air into his bruised lungs. But the pain wasn't the worst of it; the worst part was that he knew this was only the beginning. He was fucked. The syndicate knew. He had blown everything. And was gonna pay for it. He felt Reno grabbing his hair and his face was yanked up to meet his eyes. A shudder ran down his spine and suddenly he was freezing as Reno hissed dangerously,

"You're a dead man, Strife!"

Cloud's arms were tied behind his back tightly, he was gagged to stop him from biting his tongue, and a bag was pulled over his head. He was dragged into one of the grunts' cars and as the door slammed shut, Cloud knew Reno was right.

---

Fear.

Failure.

Death.

I can't stop myself from shaking, and I'm subconsciously biting the gag and trying to pull myself free. My wordless yells are muffled, and the unyielding chinking of the handcuffs reminds me that I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to stay; wherever "here" is. I can't see anything, thanks to the blindfold, nor is there a sound to be heard except my own shaky breathing and some distant sound of water moving in the pipes. It smells of dampness and mold, and it's cold in here. I guess I'm underground somewhere. A cellar, a prison cell, yet another one of Turks torture chambers somewhere at the outskirts of the city? Who knows? In the car I tried to keep track of how long we were driving, where we were headed to, where we took turns, but I lost count. Hell, I've no idea where I am. All I know is that I failed and that I'm gonna die here. Painfully. And probably pretty soon.

When I was finally dragged out of the car, they made me limp down some stairs. I couldn't get a good look around the room, though, since the little I saw as the bag was replaced with the blindfold was just a too bright spot light directed to my eyes and a metal trolley next to the chair I'm cuffed into. They try to intimidate me by not allowing me to know anything, not even where I am – an age-old method to break the victim for questioning.

I'm afraid it's working.

I again pull against the handcuffs holding me steadily in this chair. They won't budge. My heart is racing and the panic is rising. Jesus fuck, how long have I been here?! An hour? Two, three? Long enough to lose almost all feeling of my injured thigh – I think it's steadily bleeding, since I feel some wet warmth alongside pain. I wish I'd just bleed to death, would be easier. Less of an agony.

Throbbing pain, screaming silence, never-ending darkness are slowly but surely conquering me. I can't fight it much longer – I'm scared. So fucking afraid. Not knowing is the worst kind of mental torture imaginable. What're they gonna do to me now? Torture me? I'm trying to prepare myself to endure, but it can't be helped: fundamentally it's humane to try to avoid pain, that's what fear is for. I can't fight human nature. Terror is gradually seeping into my rational mind, driving me into panic. I can hear my breathing getting more and more erratic.

I need to calm down. Focus, Cloud. Focus! I concentrate to inhale in steady breaths and grab a hold of the chair to stop my hands from trembling. I need to be ready. Reno saw me in the alley with Leon, there's no denying it. The only question remaining is how much he heard. I might still be able to save the operation if Reno didn't hear everything. Probably not for myself, I'm done for, but for the others. But for that, I must suffer. And I must endure. I inhale again, but my hands won't stop shaking. I don't want to die. Groaning, I try to pull myself free again – in vain. My struggling is rewarded with fresh stinging in my leg. Son of a bitch, that hurts!

I hear a muffled clank and low scraping sounds from somewhere to my right, and then there are footsteps on hard floor. My breath hitches and I can feel my muscles going tense. The footsteps stop somewhere pretty far away from me. I think. The little wisp of warmer air rushing from the opened door carries along lingering hints of Reno's after shave. I swallow and instinctively turn my unseeing eyes away from the direction of the sound, and brace myself.

His silent rage unnerves me. Enraged Reno is unpredictable and impulsive. I know he's furious. I can feel his loathing eyes upon me. And it confuses me, scares me that he isn't moving. That he isn't beating me into pulp. Until after a long while I hear the slowly and quietly approaching steps. Steps of a lurking killer. My chest turns cold and I hardly dare to breathe.

"Traitor."

It wasn't a question. Nor was it merely a statement. Reno's tone holds all the betrayal, sadism and disgust in the world. His steps are close.

Suddenly, enraged roaring and I immediately feel the collision of his fist into my cheek. I gasp in pain as the force of the punch throws my head to the side. He forces it back towards him and lands another one. And another one. Reno's huffing is accompanied by my low hissing as I feel the bruising starting and small cuts being formed onto my face. I struggle to breathe as I taste blood in my mouth.

Seeing me bleeding, though, seems to calm him since I hear him snort and move away from me. I hang my head and try to hear his movements, but my own wheezing breathing distracts me. I can't help it.

My cheek stings but I try not to pay heed to that and instead focus on Reno. He slowly paces behind me and stops there, running cold metal against my cheek to make me flinch. Then he suddenly grabs my hair and tilts my head back almost too far, almost cutting my airway. I struggle to breathe and whine quietly, but I'm quickly silenced as I feel the barrel on the flesh of my exposed throat. I shudder and try to struggle. I bite the gag harder and hope that my lip isn't quivering. Reno must be having fun terrorizing me. But then I feel the hand gripping me let go and I immediately correct my posture the little he allows me to. Instead, his hand finds its way lower in the back of my head, and I think he's fumbling with untying my gag. My eyebrows rise.

"If you even as much as consider biting your tongue, I'm gonna cut it out, got it?!" Reno hisses into my ear, causing a cold shudder run down my spine.

"Uh-uhhmm," I try to mutter and shake my head a little. Just get this thing off me.

The gag's removed and I gasp in air in devouring gulps. Reno removes the gun from my throat, allowing me to sit properly. Instead, he slowly walks around me and I hear a sound of something metallic being placed onto the tray. My heart thumps and I can feel myself sweating.

"You've been in this for a long time, Spikehead, you know the drill," Reno's voice travels around me... until I hear him stopping somewhere to my right. Suddenly, I feel his hand clamping on top of mine and gasp in surprise.

"Now you're gonna sing me every damn detail about the Lights and this little 'plan' of yours as your pal so nicely put it..." Dammit! So he knows about it. He holds a screaming pause and grabs my index finger. I gulp and bite my lip and turn my head away. "Or I'm gonna break every motherfucking last one of your fingers until you tell me what I wanna hear, bitch. In fact..."

I hear the stomach-turning crack before I feel the pain. A hopeless scream tears out of me before I can control myself again. I chomp down onto my lip too hard and the screaming subsides into agonized hissing. I can feel tears running from my eyes and sink into the blindfold. Reno lets go of my broken finger but immediately grabs the middle one.

"Son of a bitch! What the hell was that?! Aah, fucking hell..." I'm howling at him.

"Felt like it." I don't need to see to know he's shrugging; I can imagine his satanic snarl. "Better get used to it, Strife." I gasp involuntarily. I am painfully aware of just how much agony the syndicate is capable of inflicting upon me. But hearing it from Reno kinda makes it all the more terrifying. I hear his enthusiasm in his voice. "Isn't it amazing just how much the inability to see adds to the intensity of feeling?" It's sickening. "I'll love watching you trying to fight it." I try to growl at him from behind my clenched teeth. He smacks me in the back of my head.

"So, what are the Lights planning?" Reno hisses into my ear, his grab of my finger tightening. And I turn my head away from him and brace myself to endure as I spit out,

"Fuck you, Reno."

"Wrong answer!"

The pain shots through me like electricity, sparking and stinging and raw. This time I manage to hold back a scream, but can't help myself from whining loudly. Agony creeps up my arm and burns my eyes. I try to move my fingers, but decide against that as any movement only brings more pain. Reno backhands me with a snort and takes a tentative hold of my ring finger. I let out an agonized gasp. I know what's coming, and try to cope. Reno, please, don't do this...

"I ask again, blondie. What are the Lights planning?"

My breath comes in uneven gasps through my clenched teeth. I can feel my hand shaking, in fear, in pain. I don't know what to do. It hurts, god, it hurts so much. And I know this is only the beginning. They're gonna make me scream until I can scream no more and not stop. I don't know if I can do this. It scares me. It scares me to think all I'm gonna know for the rest of my short life is more pain. More than I can handle. But... if I talk, everything, everything I've been working for... it'll all be in vain. Ventus... Ventus, what do I do? Help me...

Apparently I took too long. Or Reno just is in an unmerciful mood. He breaks the third finger, and I can hear myself screaming something incoherent, directing my suffering to a god who doesn't give a fuck. I'm sobbing but trying to fight it. I think I might faint, everything is a mess of spinning agony, cold and blackness. My blood is thumping in my ears so loudly that it overpowers everything else. I feel my stomach churn and want to vomit. But still... I'm not talking.

I actually must have passed out. I come to as I feel a splash of cold liquid on my face, and then retreating footsteps. I'm too groggy to comprehend anything at first, but the agony returns almost immediately, and I whimper a little. My hand feels like it's on fire. I think it's shaking. I'm dazed by pain, but I'm snapped out of it as a new voice speaks.

"I see that you're awake," Rufus Shinra's cold voice says. I draw in a quick gasp. What's Shinra doing here?! He wants to see me broken in person? I must make quite a show for the asshole.

"Now if you'd be so kind as to enlighten us about what are you and the Seven Lights planning? Why you've betrayed us? How much did the Lights pay you? How long have you been delivering information to them?" His voice is like poison.

A new kind of emotion is building inside me, a bubbling sensation that's engulfing me and drowning the pain. I know it's not the smartest thing to do. In fact, I know I'm insane but I can't stop myself. Not now, not when I'm so close to dying for nothing, not when the Boss – the Boss – is asking me why... My pained voice shakes a little, but what comes out of my mouth is still unmistakably recognizable as laughter.

"Haha... Ha hah ha ha..." I'm shaking. My shoulders are quivering uncontrollably as strings and strings of giggling spill out from my mouth. The people in the room have fallen silent, I must have taken them by surprise. Turk scum. As my fit ceases, there is dumbfound silence for a couple of moments before Shinra speaks again, his tone confused.

"What seems to be funny, Strife? You desire pain? I didn't think of you as one with masochistic tendencies."

"You son of a..." Reno spits out. I hear fast stomping approaching me and soon I feel someone grabbing the collar of my shirt. He backhands me hard and I momentarily feel like fainting again. The blackness is spinning in my head. I feel a trickle of liquid trailing down my temple and onto my cheek, and grit my teeth.

"Reno..."

I let out an involuntary whimper as my heart sinks into my stomach in new kind of fear. My terror has to be apparent on my face since I hear Reno sneering in sadistic delight. The finality of my demise strikes down on me like a sledge-hammer. Vincent. Who has never once missed his target. Who crippled his own father for lifetime by shooting him in the head. I can only pray my death will be quick. He has the talent of making it so much worse than that.

"Can't you see he's susceptible to pain?" Vincent continues to Reno. He snorts and lets go my shirt, pushing me back into the chair.

"Tch, whatever." I hear him ruffling a wrapper and igniting a lighter before he blows a smoke cloud onto my face. I turn away in distaste and snarl blindly at where I think he is.

"Now Strife, shall we hear about this little plan of yours? Or do you require some further persuasion?" All the while Shinra is talking I can heard water rippling. What is this? Then the realization dawns upon me: water torture. I gasp in understanding. Shinra doesn't care for the sight of blood. He relies onto more on the mental side methods. I want to spit at him – for putting me through this, and for Ventus. It's reduced into mute snarling.

I turn my face away from the sound of the water, still snarling and clench my uninjured hand into tight fist. However, it's not stopping it from shaking. I try to think, think, but the pain and fear make it difficult. If I co-operate, I might be rewarded with a quick death. Ending the pain... But I can't! I screwed this up, now I must suffer through this. Endure. If I don't, the Lights will fall, and Ventus...

"Ventus..." I hear myself muttering out loud, realizing my error too late. The interested "hmm" from the torturers indicates that my slip of tongue hasn't gone unnoticed. Dammit!

"Ventus?" Vincent says and I hear advancing footsteps. A hand grips my hair again and a gun is placed against my temple. "Who or what is Ventus?" he snarls in a low voice, and I hear the unmistakable chunk of the gun cocking. Oh god! I breathe in short gasps and shudder, considering my options.

"... He was my brother," I growl from behind clenched teeth, opting not to wish to have a see-through hole in my head that still won't kill me. "And you sons of bitches killed him!"

The Norrington Borough Clash – that's how the newspapers entitled it – was one of the greater clashes between the two ruling gangs since the establishment of the truce. Ignited from an accidental discharge, the fire fight lasted for almost an hour and claimed the lives of tens of men and women, both Turks and Lights, teenagers and adults.

In the midst of the shooting fought a young blond man, wielding two pistols sharply. Ducking behind a crashed car with his best friend and partner, a taller man with brown hair, Cloud reloaded his guns before releasing another load of bullets directed to the enemy.

"We have to retreat, Cloud! There are too many!" Leon screamed as he, too, reloaded his gun.

"You go on ahead, I'll cover you!" Cloud yelled back, and signaled to him with his hand to get moving, get behind the corner of the nearby building as he gave him cover fire. Seeing Leon jump behind the corner unharmed, he too leaped away from behind the car.

"Any bright ideas?" Leon stated sarcastically as he peeked around the corner, only barely avoiding a bullet bouncing off of the protective wall.

Leon's question was answered for them as a voice rang out,

"Terra! Terra, where are you?! Terra!"

Both of the men turned to the direction of the sound, but Cloud had paled. On the other side of the war-zone of a street squatted a boy a couple of years younger than Cloud himself. He, too, had a blond, spiky hair – a gift from your father, their mother had told them when they were children – and he looked terrified.

"Terra?!" he kept calling the name and looked around frantically. When the boy noticed Leon and Cloud, his desperation seemed to overwhelm him and he sank to the ground, shaking his head.

"Ventus?!" Cloud screamed at him, not caring whether or not the boy heard him over the rapid exchange of fire. "Ventus!" Without a warning, Cloud jumped back onto the street – "Hey! What are you doing?!" yelled Leon – and ducked again behind the car wreck as a bullet flew past where his head had been only half a second ago.

"Cloud!" Ventus stretched a hand towards the older blond.

"Ventus, what the hell are you doing here?!" Cloud peeked behind the car to see if it was safe to dash across the street. Snorting, he leaped forward and firing a few mask shots, safely dove behind the wall, sitting next to his brother. He gripped his shoulders tightly and forced the younger one to look at him.

"What the hell are you doing here?! I told you to stay at the HQ, you're not supposed to be here!"

"But Terra! Terra's here somewhere!" Ventus looked panicked as he tore away from his brother, whose eyes had widened for the notion of his brother's best friend.

"What...?"

"He just ran off, saying he wanted to help the men. Please, Cloud! Have you seen him?"

Cloud shook his head. Dammit! So the big man's son was somewhere in the midst of this mess. Just wonderful. Damn the over-eager kid and his semi-suicidal whims!

As he watched though, Ventus's eyes went wide as he spotted something down the street, behind Cloud's back. Something with green cargo pants and a brown sports sweater with the Light symbol printed on it. Something with long, dark-brown hair. Something that wasn't moving on its own.

"No!" Ventus screamed and pushed past Cloud onto the dangerous street. He ducked behind a trash can to take cover before his brother could pull him back.

"Ventus! Ventus, get back here!"

Ventus didn't answer. And Cloud understood why. Down the street laid Terra's motionless form. "Worried sick" couldn't begin to describe the expression on the younger Strife's face as he slowly made his way closer, taking cover behind buildings, cars, trashcans. Not knowing what else to do, Cloud signaled Leon he was gonna follow him and that he should cover him. Nodding, Leon gave him a thumb up in understanding.

Ventus grinned as his brother reached him.

"Thanks, man," he said gratefully.

"Well, someone has to cover your ass," Cloud smirked at him before turning serious again. "You two shouldn't be here. It's dangerous!"

"Well, look who's talking! You're here as well, aren't you? Besides, it's Terra who just dashed away, you know." Ventus looked sour. "And look where that got him." He cast a desperate glance at his friend laying on the street. However, as he watched, the corpse moved. It opened its eyes to look at him, first in shock, then with relief. Terra lifted a hand a little to signal he was alive, his eyes begging for them to help him.

"Cloud! Cloud, he's alive! We have to do something!" Ventus dashed onto the street.

"No, Ventus! Come back!" Cloud yelled at him.

In front of his eyes, blood splashed out of his brother's head as he was shot. Like in a slow-motion movie, Cloud watched how Ventus dropped to the ground heavily. Screaming, guns firing, a car engine roaring, he couldn't hear any of that. He just watched helplessly as his brother's form slumped into the ground, a small pool of blood beginning to form under his mane of hair.

"No! No, Ventus!" Over his own screaming, Cloud heard cars revving up. He jumped out from his hiding place to empty his magazine towards the escaping vehicles decorated with the Turks logo. A few haphazard shots were fired, but the cars were soon out of range. Soon there was even more yelling, sirens bleeping, phones ringing, white noise of all kind around them. Cloud didn't hear.

Cloud's hand shook as he lowered the guns still directed to the direction of the gone-away cars. He turned to dash to his brother, already feeling a lump in his throat. He knew, but didn't want to acknowledge... because acknowledging it would make it into an inevitability. He wanted to evade it. At least for a little while more... He kneeled beside Ventus's body that was already going cold. He heard distant, sobbing swearing and glanced at Terra's tear-stained face. He looked devastated. Cloud didn't care right now. He didn't care about anything, he didn't feel anything but grief. He hugged his brother to his chest and felt the tears coming. He sobbed against his brothers bloodied shoulder until Leon's firm hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him up.

There is a surprised silence before Shinra speaks again,

"So, a revenge?"

"You can think about it like that." I lick some blood off my lip.

"Then how is it that you Lights are planning on getting your 'revenge'?" Shinra mocks me. Fuck him. I let myself visibly snarl in rage.

"..." I turn my head away from them with a snort and add, "I dunno what you're talking about."

"I see." His tone has a weird kind of finality. I suppose he's satisfied. But with what, I'm not sure. My defiance? I hear some chuckling and at least two sets of footsteps approach me. Just how many people are there? An anticipating shiver runs down my spine.

I was expecting more pain, so it's a little of a surprise that the people – there are two – attack my handcuffs and... undo them?! I know now that at least Reno is yet again near me since his low, malicious chuckling reaches my ears. What's going on? I have a hunch, but... I'd rather be wrong.

"Get up," Reno spits out and smacks my head. They drag me onto my feet forcefully, which throws me off balance and forces me to support myself onto my injured leg. I yelp loudly and am rewarded with two punches into my stomach again. The air escapes my lungs in a heartbeat and I double over in a desperate attempt to ease out the pain. Everything hurts. Everything is screaming and churning and disgusting and fuzzy. I'm like a fish on dry land as I try to heave in shallow gasps.

Two people grab my arms – I didn't even notice someone tying my hands behind my back until now – and they force me to limp forward. I try to be careful with my leg but they're making it difficult. Then they stop me and shove me down to my knees. I feel a string of searing white pain flash through my head and bite my lip to hold back a whimper. I don't want to give them that pleasure.

Suddenly, my head's pushed down forcefully. Wet. Coldness. Engulfing. Initial panic causes me to gasp in fear and surprise, and I immediately draw water into my lungs. I'm trying to struggle, to fight the gag reflex and rising panic, but the bindings prevent all movement of my hands. The relentless grip of my head forces me down, deeper into the wet death. I'm trying to calm down, but I'm rapidly running out of oxygen. I panic and try to trash around again, but I accidentally swallow more water. Dizziness. The darkness deepens slowly. I'm gonna throw up.

They pull me out of the water as my body is probably going still already. I vomit: a mixture of stomach acids and water and blood. My mouth tastes bitter as I try to inhale, regain some air into my oxygen-deprived lungs and I'm shaking uncontrollably. Primal panic and the urge to survive scream in my head, try to force my body moving, try to force me to save myself. But I'm numb with ache and my head's spinning. I can't move. I can't think. I can't do anything.

They shove my head down again. This time I manage to take a quick breath and avoid swallowing water. I fight the urge to trash and try to keep my head still, try to save the little oxygen I have. If I allow myself to panic, I'll be only playing into their hands. Fear is my worst enemy. But as I feel my lungs starting to sting, then my chest starting to burn with the over-rushing urge to secure the blood flow into my brain as I'm slowly starting to drown... I lose. Instinctively I'm trying to struggle as panic rushes throughout my body. I'm desperately trying to push my head upwards, trying to reach the lifesaving oxygen. I accidentally open my mouth again and gulp in some water. My head's spinning and I can feel the darkness coming. My trashing gets weaker and weaker. I can feel numbness starting to spread and my head's getting heavier... And then, a strong jerk upwards.

They allow me to collapse onto the floor and cough and spit and gasp and revive. I'm trying to crawl into fetal position. It briefly crosses my mind that watching me grovel must be a jubilee for Shinra to watch. Be my guest then. I don't care anymore. Survival is more important.

"Pathetic." Yeah, I agree. Quite a fall from grace, right? Fear is a formidable ally. Or an opponent.

"You don't have to do this, Strife. Just tell us what we want to know and I promise you, your death will be swift," Shinra's voice is faint and coming from somewhere far away.

A part of me screams at the back of my head to just give up and tell them what they want to know and be relieved of this suffering, and I'd love to listen to that little part, but I can't. I can't! I don't trust my voice anymore. It already betrayed me once. If I spill any more, I'm not only staining Ventus's memory, I'm also endangering Leon and the others. The mere thought of having their blood on my hands as well is enough to make me disgusted with myself. So no matter what, I must fight my panic. I can't succumb to their torture. I have to be stronger than this. Still heaving a little, I simply shake my head ferociously.

I hear a deep sigh and then a disinterested, "Again."

As my head's again pushed under water, I try to visualize Ventus's face. I need to be strong for him if not for myself.

Until my body jerks as a swift kick lands into my side. It bores through me as a hot wave of agony forces me to gasp under water, again drawing water into my lungs. Coldness starts to spread into my chest, it's suffocating me – both physically and mentally. I can't stop myself from gagging. I again try to trash around, but my head's cruelly held in place. Fear rushes through me, leaving me shivering.

They pull me out suddenly. "No, please..." I hear my voice mumbling in between coughs and gasps. I'm not prepared when they again sink me into the water. This time for a longer while, long enough for me to start trashing again, before they drag my head up. And sink back in again. And again.

They're feeding my rising panic. I'm beyond scared. Fear shakes my entire body as my struggling becomes more and more desperate, and the physical pain fuels the fire. Panic consumes me again as I run out of oxygen. I'm drowning. My blood's thumping in my ears so hard I think I'm gonna go deaf. I hear the beat slowing down. Oh god, please stop it. I try to shake my head to signal my plea but their grip of my head is too strong. My chest burns and I think I'm about to faint again. I want to. Oh please let me to. I don't ever want to wake up again if for the rest of my life all I know is suffering.

My lips meet air again and I devour it voraciously. I'm shaking and panting heavily. Somewhere above me someone – probably Reno – snorts sadistically. I let him, I don't have the energy to retort anymore. My heart is pounding in my chest. I wouldn't mind if it stopped. I can't take any more. Please stop it... please...

"What is your plan?!" Shinra's voice is getting irritated. No, no I can't... I don't know what to do. I... I just want this to end. Please, no... I can't... Ventus...

"Again!" he roars.

"NO!" I hear myself screaming before I'm again pushed into the coldness. A sudden pain in the back of my head forces me to yelp, again flooding me inside. A wave of nausea runs through me again. Everything's spinning. My chest feels like its eating itself out and I'm trashing desperately. It hurts so much. The pain spreads from my chest to my neck, creeps into my temples. Splitting headache blinds me with whiteness. My struggling becomes weaker. I can no longer feel my limbs, everything's dull, cold, stinging aching. I can feel the darkness creeping closer, my body growing still and cold as they are slowly killing me. Fear devours me, feasts on my desperation. I shake my head a few more times, but am already feeling my mind go blank and heart rate dropping. My lungs are on fire although I'm freezing. Please just let this end. It hurts. I just want it to end. Please... please... I'm barely conscious anymore. The blood pumping in my ears is getting quieter and quieter. The darkness surrounding me is overpowering. Just take me. Let this end... My heart sinks as I feel my head being lifted up again.

My hair sticks to my face and strings of droplets ripple onto the water's surface. The tip of my nose touches the water. That's their way of telling me that if I didn't start talking, I'd be under again before I'd have time to prepare. My stomach cramps as I vomit again. It takes me a while to notice that I'm sobbing in between my panting and coughing and gagging. As life reclaims my body again, I'm honestly sorry. Being alive means more torture. More torture means more suffering. I gulp in desperation. The sobs shake my shoulders and my breathing is erratic gasping.

The silence in the room seems too perfect. It's like my noises are filling the entire room. I shudder and flinch involuntarily as something hard is hauntingly run over my back. It trails lower and lower until it travels to the side, over my thigh and comes to rest on my knee. When it's pressed down harder, I finally realize what it is, and shake my head as I try to jerk myself away from the gun.

"Move even an inch, Strife, and I'll bust your knee," Vincent growls so close to me I can feel the warmth of his breath. I can't help myself whimpering as a new sob rakes my body. I'm a disgrace to myself. But I can't help it; I'm so spent.

When Shinra speaks again, his tone is like ice. A tone that's telling me it's been cute but now the playtime's over. "I'll ask again, Strife: what are you and the Lights planning?"

His tone more than anything freezes me. Every syllable's loaded with threat. A threat I know isn't in vain. What should I do? I can feel my body shaking uncontrollably and tears run in steady streaks. I've given up trying to hold them back and instead just hope that the water dripping from my soaked hair masks them. I wouldn't like to give them the pleasure of showing that I'm losing control, although I can't really help it anymore. Terror is a lump in my throat that refuses to budge. I'm still panting quietly, both in lack of oxygen and in fear.

"... The shipment." I hate myself as I hear my broken voice betraying me. I'm trying to hold back, but my subconscious has already given up. I feel like choking myself as I gurgle out, "It's a scam."

"Oh? So you chose reason after all." I can hear Shinra smiling as the lackeys lift my head away from the water. "Speak!"

Stop this, Cloud. Stop it! You can still do this. Bite your tongue, do it. Kill yourself before you destroy everything! My rational mind shrieks to my body to fight, but pain, terror and exhaustion have already drained me. I can't fight anymore. I just want the suffering to be over. I'm disgusting.

As I try to arrange my thoughts into some coherent order, suddenly I feel someone grabbing the front of my shirt. In one swift movement, my cheek scrapes concrete and I grunt. As the stinging registers, I feel the metallic kiss of a gun barrel on my temple again and something heavy lands on my back, effectively pinning me into the floor. A threatening knee is pressed into the nape of my neck painfully.

"Yes, Cloud, you were saying...?" Vincent's question is emphasized with increasing pressure on my neck, and the alarming thought of him snapping my spine flashes into my mind. I struggle to move into a better position, but he's too heavy. My pained, defeated voice mutters,

"It's a scam. The Lights spread the word that they were going to hijack the load to draw the Turks' attention into the harbor." I can't do this. I'm so sorry. Leon... Ventus...

"Yes?!" Shinra doesn't bother covering up his impatience. The gun is pressed tighter against my head and Vincent grabs my hair painfully, tilts my head back to nearly cut my airway.

The words that seal my fate come out as strangled croaking,

"They're attacking the Turks' HQ. The shipment's just a decoy."

I hear sharp intakes of breath, some loud growling, and the gun against my temple is pressed harder against my head. I actually kind of wish it'd fire. It'd release me.

Because now my guilt is killing me. I can see the betrayed faces of Leon, Boss Eraqus and Ventus in my mind as a weight is lifted from my back. I think I'm crying, since I'm hearing some quiet sobbing. I'm sorry. I couldn't do it. I betrayed you, screwed up everything. Please understand. I just couldn't take it anymore. I'm not that strong.

Someone grabs my hair again and pulls me up from the floor. Their grip of my hair stings my scalp and forces me to grit my teeth, drawing a little whine out of me.

I feel the impact of something cool and heavy to hit my temple with force, and blackness that has nothing to do with the blindfold conquers me. I feel myself drop back onto the floor and still there. My head feels like it's splitting in half – maybe it did, I was hit pretty hard. The pain makes me groggy, and I can feel my head spinning. I know I'm only borderline conscious anymore.

From somewhere at the edges of my comprehension, I hear distant voices talking. What, I can't make out. It's all incoherent mumbling. I'm fighting to focus, to make something out of it. I think they're talking about the load and the Lights. And then I hear approaching footsteps.

I hear a snap from my neck as someone kicks me in the face. I'm too numb to feel the pain, it's just dull throbbing.

"What about Strife, yo?" Reno spits out.

There's a pause, and I don't even dare to breathe as I'm struggling to hear the other men in the room. My heart leaps in terror as Shinra's cold voice slashes,

"Kill him."

Panic rushes back into me, and I try to struggle against my bindings. My breathing turns erratic and I'm whimpering quietly as the bindings sink into my skin. I hear distancing footsteps and then a thunk and long, rasping sound as something heavy moves on the hard floor. The footsteps wander further and further beyond my hearing. I gulp in anticipation, and I realize I've crawled into fetus position and I'm shaking. Fear strangles me, forces air into me in short, panicked gasps. The air smells of mold and blood and sweat and death. My heart's thumping loudly in my ears.

Someone grabs my shirt again and pulls me up from the floor, they force me to my knees. I'm shaking and whining in between my panicked gasps before I hear the sound of a gun being cocked.

"Sweet dreams, Strife." Reno's voice is bitter and strained.

Leon... Ventus... Boss Eraqus... I'm sorry.

I hear the gunshot.

---

The Turks beat the Lights to their own game. The death of the Judas walking amidst the Turks was covered up from everyone except for the ranking officers of the divisions. Instead, a story that the spies had discovered the Lights' scheme was spread throughout the ranks, telling them to get ready for some bloodshed. On the D-Day, the Lights' "surprise" attack was ambushed on the Turks doorstep. They were surrounded and slaughtered within minutes in an overpowering counter-attack. Only few survived. Amongst the lucky ones was a young man named Sora. He lived by faking his death. Oh, the irony.

The brown-haired Light named Leon was shot clear in between his eyes, after he had first taken down several Turks who had dared to underestimate the swift shooter.

Boss Eraqus's hot-headed son, Terra, was taken hostage. His life (along with his physical integrity) was used to bargain a deal with Eraqus: a new truce, and 40 % of the city districts run by the Lights were to be handed over to Shinra's control. The conditions, along with the live-footage of a nasty-looking knife neatly placed against Terra's throat, were presented over video meeting after the word of the operation's fateful outcome had reached the Lights HQ. Only after some moments of heart-felt swearing; raging; demolishing a priceless Ming vase or two; and fierce gritting of his teeth, Eraqus reluctantly stepped down of his throne and agreed to the immoderate conditions to save his horse-ass of a son.

The body of Cloud Strife was never found.

---

AN: Yes, I just killed all the darlings. I'm horrible. And feel bad for Rinoa.

Writing the torture scene was very difficult. I worked on it for weeks - couldn't deal with it faster. Poor kiddo.