A/N: Context info: Takes place three years after a mission in which Reno was almost killed by a previous target. After failing the mission and being lied to by ShinRa, he discovers that not only does the company have ample information on the man who almost killed him, but that he is now also the Turk's prime target. Anger and ample fury ensues, blah, blah, I love my scarred little redheaded Turk.
I don't know,
I don't know what caused me to be this way
I don't know,
I don't know but I'll probably be this way 'til my dying day
I don't know why I'm so,
I'm so cold,
These things I don't mean to say-
-I guess this is how you made me.
How You Made Me
By the time he had calmed down enough for his behaviour to mimic something the Director might have deemed "acceptable", Reno had already upended the former's office desk and smashed the nearest chair that his hands had fallen onto against the closest wall. As a result, the adjoined cabinet of books and various breakables had been smashed and as it was, Tseng's office looked no less than the scene of a bar brawl - minus the bar.
Rude, knowing better than to interrupt his partner's tirades by now, had simply stood sentinel throughout the entire performance with his hands clasped neatly in front of him, watching and ready to step in should incident or the Director deem it necessary.
A little further off to the side, Elena was tactfully remaining quite still, arms folded and expression carefully absent of any disapproval she might have been feeling. Contrastingly, her stance and the way she held herself seemed particularly tense, something which unbeknownst to her, both Rude and Tseng had silently noticed, even amongst the chaos. In another situation and on another day, she would have been reminded of the importance of presentation and demeanour – rookie's mistakes were something that were slowly being talked and periodically beaten out of her.
As things were, Tseng was the only one sitting; this was his office no less, and now, even absent of a desk to sit behind (with less than sincere thanks to Reno), he was hardly about to lose his exterior due to a temper tantrum from his Second in Command. Gripping mission files in his right hand and looking thoroughly jaded - as if this and no less was exactly what he had been expecting, the Wutaian barely breathed a sigh.
As it transpired, Reno had managed to work himself into fatigue within a mere few minutes, still reeling and exhausted from a sleepless night previously – at least, that's what he'd blamed the exhaustion on in an exchange with Rude, but in truth, he'd spent a night out drinking and had woken up, worse for wear, on a stranger's couch.
Here and now, breathing heavily, he returned his shameless gaze back to Tseng only after declaring their new target to be something that aptly displayed the redhead's impressive and creative vocabulary of curse words. Finishing up by shoving a hand into his open jacket and grabbing for a cigarette, he lit up without so much as the faintest thought for the notion that usually, Tseng wouldn't have thought twice about swiping that smoke from Reno's hand and stubbing it out on his bare skin for such insolence.
However, as it was Tseng seemed to have just enough patience remaining to at least take pity on Reno enough to allow him to smoke, even if it was in his office - and given that Reno had just destroyed said office. It appeared to be the redhead's lucky day in that respect, at least, if none else.
The Director, having cast a less than delighted expression at his overturned desk that now lay several feet away amongst papers, fixtures and various glass shards strewn across the carpet, moved to stand, holding out the dossier in his grasp.
Being at the forefront, Reno reached out habitually with his free hand to take it, but ignoring his outstretched arm, Tseng stepped between him and Rude, handing the documents over to the silent Turk, who was stood with his back to the office door.
"That's all the information we have on the target." Tseng began, as Rude, sunglasses refracting the artificial light, looked down at the dossiers. "He's always been elusive, hence never being detained before now, but we're making the capture and incarceration of him our first priority as of now," he paused here, stepping back and letting a breath escape, almost as if he couldn't help it. "President's orders," he added, with an incline of his head.
Rude did not react whatsoever, merely flicking through the pages of the files before passing it to Elena, but upon reaching out to take the documents, the latter subconsciously narrowed her eyes as she flipped open the front page before raising her gaze to the irate redhead standing before her.
Reno, tapping a finger against his smoke, glared.
President's orders.
He couldn't give a fuck where the order came from, but something about the way Tseng had said those two words had put him on edge all over again. The Director, in his astuteness, clearly did not approve of this course of action.
He shouldn't – and wouldn't have, normally – questioned his superior, but shuffling his weight from one foot to another, Reno rocked forward slightly, taking a deep drag on his smoke before speaking, blowing a mouthful of smoke out as he did. "S'the idea with that? Yer think this fucker ain't good 'nuf t' be the primary objective?"
Rude, who had been inaudible and relatively unmoving up until now, cleared his throat tactfully.
Taking note of the gesture but not having the usual patience for the intent in which it was meant, Reno spun on his heel. "Ah, fuck off, yo. 'M sick o' this bullshit! Three years down n' only now they manage t' dig up a whole fuckin' file on the fuck who almost killed me? Yer tellin' me that ain't pure convenience? Fuckin' ShinRa, yo."
Very clearly, Tseng's voice projected across the redhead's renewed outburst, cutting him off sharply. "Reno."
Reno.
Yeah, yeah. He shouldn't have said what he was thinking out loud and he knew it, but fuck. How could he not be angry?
But then, again-
Reno. Plain English for, "Shut your mouth, redhead. Mind on the job." Damn.
It was near impossible not to open his mouth again, but somehow, glaring at the Director and pulling on his smoke, he just about managed it, the only noise leaving him being that of a small sneer of vehemence.
It was more than just maddening; the fact he'd been at death's door - hammering a fist against it, no less - was bad enough. Three years on, knowing that ShinRa had kept information on the man who had almost killed him off hidden - only deeming him a problem once his motives had turned to attacking the company - was worse. ShinRa took care of its Turks – to a point. It seemed to Reno, that only now, after almost ten years of service to the company, he knew just where that point reached.
None of this was right to him and inwardly, he knew that - quietly - it wouldn't be right to his fellow Turks either. He was the only one brash and reckless enough to say it out loud. After everything he'd done for the company, every single risk he'd taken – and knowing that most of them were life taking risks – ShinRa had paid him back in nothing but blood and lies. He'd tried hunting down the target of his own accord more than once, eager to put him down the way he'd almost put Reno himself down, but had been spared luck and all progress.
Rude had discouraged him on various occasions, but Reno had gone past the point of anger; lack of progress had forced him to approach the company from the inside, digging of his own accord for information and eventually with no options left, turning to ask for it. Tseng had merely told him to lay his vendetta to rest and get back to work, but Rufus - the goddamn President whose life Reno had protected with his own on countless occasions now - had very nearly quirked a grin before telling him frankly that they had no information on the man whatsoever.
Eventually, fully healed but still seething, he'd lessened the focus on personal retaliation and gone back to his job. But now, three years later, the truth had come spilling out in a routine meeting, leaving the redhead not only driven by fury once again, but also doubting his loyalty to ShinRa.
'President's orders…'. The words rang in his head like a stabbing mantra; he wasn't surprised that Rufus had lied to him, but it didn't stop him from hating the bastard. Tseng on the other hand had carefully avoided Reno's questioning, telling him to get back to work. At least the Director had warned him against further pursuit, even if it had been in a roundabout way.
Shedding ash from his smoke and letting out a breath of controlled frustration, he looked at Tseng with a cold expectantly.
Unruffled and collected as ever, the Director allowed quietude to settle before opening his mouth to speak, which he did in a leisurely manner. "We should consider him as our principal target up until he is under ShinRa surveillance, and I hardly think it necessary to remind you all that we would like him alive…" With his eyes on the infuriated Reno, Tseng delicately added: "and unharmed."
A further scoff came from Reno, which the Director ignored.
"His last known coordinates are in the dossier," he gestured at the report that was now in Elena's hands. "Report any progress promptly and keep in touch via company monitored radio frequencies." Gesturing to the door with one hand, he signalled a dismissal, allowing both Rude and Elena to leave before holding Reno back with the simple utterance of his name.
The redhead, having taken the final pull on his smoke, turned back to the Director, half braced for a physical hit as consequence for his behaviour. All that met him however, was Tseng's clipped voice.
"Clean this room up before you leave."
Turning to pick up his jacket from where it hung on his chair, the Turk leader slid his arms into it, taking in Reno once more, who by now, had lost a little of his vehemence and was standing holding the remains of his smoke and staring at a fixed spot on the ground in front of him.
"And Reno, get your mind off your feelings and on to your job. You know what ShinRa is about; being a part of its hierarchy doesn't make you invincible to its workings – it makes you more vulnerable to them."
"Then what's the fuckin' point o' bein' a Turk, then?" Reno sneered.
Tseng made a noise than resembled something of humour, but there was understanding in his dark eyes when he looked at Reno again. "You tell me."
Reno looked away, knowing instantly that he'd been bested. What was the point of being a Turk? There was none; nothing but his own love for the job. He was too good at this line of work, which had he been of the conscience dwelling sort, would have bothered him more than it did. Blood, torture, killing; that's what a Turk did. That was work and life. Reno had no desire to fight or question that. Breathing a sigh of mingled frustration and acceptance, Reno offered a begrudging nod of affirmation: I understand.
Doing up his jacket, Tseng returned the nod with a curt jerk of his own head before sweeping from the room, leaving Reno alone with both his anger and thoughts.
'I guess this is how ShinRa made me.'
Lyrics used (edited slightly for story purposes): Cold Wind Blows by Eminem.
A/N: There you have it; another Reno fic and coincidentally one that has been playing on my mind for a while now. Might be needless to say, I got inspired for this one when playing Eminem's album 'Recovery', in particular the song credited above. I don't know what, but there was something very significant in those particular lyrics when I thought of Reno.
Anyway, I'm rambling! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. In other news, I may come back and edit this in due course as I'm not happy with the overall pace of the fic and the way that some things are explained, but for now, it'll do.
Last edited: 13/06/2013.