4. The Race is On

"Fuck!" Reno kicked the nearest desk. "Can't believe I'm gonna be stuck with you second-rate yahoos."

"You do realize 'secondary squad' is a Midgar-centric term, right?" Tyco said dryly. "We're secondary in terms of who is the closest to respond to threats against HQ, not in terms of skills or expertise."

"You keep telling yourself that, buddy," Reno muttered and dropped himself into the nearest chair. "Resolve shit like adults… The hell did he mean by that, huh?"

"What he said, I imagine." Tyco leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "We're Turks. We get the job done, no matter–"

"Yeah, I know the fucking drill, all right?" Reno spat. "I've been wearing the suit for a lot longer than you have, rookie."

Tyco cocked an eyebrow.

"Rookie? Seriously? I was with the Junon division for–"

Reno yawned loudly, dragging it out until blondie finally stopped talking.

"Save it for someone who gives a shit."

Tyco's jaw tightened. The glint in his eyes returned, the one that had gleamed darkly on the mat.

"What is your damn problem? We all have to share and compromise here."

"I've been sharing plenty, all right? More than you fucking deserve."

Tyco pushed himself off the wall, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"Why are you being so unreasonable about this?" he snapped. "It's just a desk!"

Reno leapt to his feet, leaving the chair spinning madly.

"Wanna know what that desk is? It's the first fucking thing I ever had that was all mine. Not a suit, 'cause I had to wear some shitty spare 'til they got some in my size. Not the mag rod, 'cause it didn't even exist yet. The desk, tho'? It's been mine since day one." He jabbed a finger at Tyco's chest. "Mine!"

Reno hadn't meant to go off on a rant. He hadn't meant to ever air any of it out in public, least of all around this blond bastard, but with Tyco stunned into silence, there was no one around to stop him. And by Ifrit's fiery balls, it felt good to finally spit it all in his dumb, gaping face.

"I spent my whole fucking life fighting for every sorry thing I ever owned," he growled. "Do you have any idea what that's like? Even the tiniest fucking clue? I earned that desk, all right? I didn't pay for it with my own goddamn sweat and blood just so some upstart could waltz in and steal it by waving his fucking family fortune in everyone's faces!"

The office fell eerily silent as Tyco tried to process the whole tirade. When he finally spoke, his voice was low but firm.

"Do you think gil is going to buy anyone a place in this office? Do you think Balto or Tseng would waste Turk time and resources on someone who doesn't know how to do their job?" He looked at Reno's hand and smirked. "Do you think I snapped your fingers by accident?"

Reno glowered as he squeezed his newly-Cured hand into a fist.

"Did I pay for my place among the Turks?" Tyco continued. "I suppose I did, but I paid for it with sweat and blood, just like you."

Reno opened his mouth, but the melodic bleat of his ringtone cut off his reply. He huffed and fished out his phone.

"Reno here," he muttered into it as he turned away.

Tyco scoffed. Reno would probably use this as an excuse to forget the whole conversation ever happened.

"Right now?"

Tyco tensed. Reno's voice was tight, urgent.

"Got it."

As soon as the call ended, he threw himself at Tseng's office door and slammed it open. Tseng looked up from his monitor, his mouth in an irritated line.

"Boss," Reno blurted before the man could tell him off for not knocking. "I got a lead on the bomb guy. He's up to something."

"Like what?"

"Something that's got him hauling a duffel bag of homemade explosives across the plate."

Tseng's eyes widened slightly.

"Find him," he barked, already dialing a number on his PHS. "Bring Tyco."

The bad feeling in Reno's gut got decidedly worse.

"Look, why don't I…" Reno shifted his weight when Tseng raised his face. A crease had appeared between the man's brows, growing deeper with every wasted second. "I'll, uh, just check in with Rude–"

"There's no time. You and Tyco will go, now."

Reno nodded glumly. When Tseng bit off his words like that, it was best to keep his mouth shut.

When he closed the door, he discovered that Tyco was waiting right behind him.

"Well," he sighed, "guess you heard. Showtime, yo."

"I heard you, all right."

Tyco turned his back on him and marched out. Reno stared after him, his irritation flaring back to life. Was he supposed to baby this guy's feelings now? Of course he wanted the best people on a job like this. Rude wouldn't waste time sulking like a fucking baby.

On his way out, Reno opened a small locker next to the door and grabbed a set of keys. He pushed past Tyco in the hallway outside and with a lick of satisfaction, he was the first to hit the elevator button.

It was a long, awkward ride down to the basement garage.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Reno hurried straight to the line of black, unmarked Turk cars, heading for the parking spot marked on the key fob. He unlocked the door on the driver's side, but before he could pull it open, Tyco smacked his hand down on the window.

"Give me the keys," he ordered and held out his other hand. "I'll drive."

"The hell you will." Reno tried to yank the door open, but Tyco held fast.

"Freyra told me about your driving skills," he said coolly. "If you want to catch this guy, you'll let me drive."

Reno glowered at him. He wanted to tell Tyco to go fuck himself so badly, but… he had a point. No, he corrected himself, Freyra had a point.

"Fine," he spat, slapping the keys into Tyco's palm, "but if you screw this up…"

"I won't." Tyco flicked his chin toward the passenger side. "Now get in."

As soon as Reno had strapped down his seatbelt, he crossed his arms and pushed himself up against the door. This fucking guy. If he messed up Reno's case…

But it wasn't Reno's case anymore, was it? Tseng had made that perfectly clear. Well, that was fine by Reno. If blondie fucked it all up, he could damned well take all the blame for it, too.

"Do we know what we're looking for?" Tyco asked as he steered them up the ramp to the exit.

"Silver sedan, Midgar plates," Reno listed, using his reporting voice. "Luckily for us, our man borrowed it off a friend of a friend. She played it cool 'til the guy left, then called me. Didn't wanna piss off a guy with a bag full of fireworks."

"So where is he now?"

"He was last seen in Two, heading toward HQ along the spoke road from the reactor."

"How do I get there?"

Reno rattled off directions, Tyco followed them. Grudgingly, Reno had to admit the guy knew how to drive in Midgar traffic. He must have had lessons back when he was a kid. Paid for by mommy and daddy, because that was what rich parents did, wasn't it? They paid for shit. Hell, Tyco had probably gotten his own fucking car for his birthday.

"Why couldn't this asshole have stolen a chopper?" Reno grumbled.

"Just keep an eye on the traffic."

He scoffed, but did as he was told. What else was he supposed to do, stuck in the passenger's seat? Across the road, cars filed past in a steady stream. They had missed the worst lunch hour rush, it seemed, but Midgar's roads were never quiet.

"There!" Reno pointed at a car that flashed silver as it approached them. "Is that it?"

"You tell me. This is your case."

"Our case now, smartass."

It was a halfhearted quip, focused as he was on the approaching car. The light kept glinting off the windshield; he couldn't get a good look until they were almost side by side.

"That's our guy," he confirmed as the silver car zoomed by. "And he just passed us. Goddammit!"

"How do you want to handle this?" Tyco asked, keeping cool.

"We can't lose him. Tseng is setting up a perimeter around HQ, but there's hundreds of other targets in this city he could be going for."

"Hold on." Tyco glanced around, then slammed on the handbrake and pulled the wheel.

"Fuck!" Reno fumbled for a hold as the car swerved around in a tight U-turn, bringing them into the right lane. "You could've warned me!"

"I did."

Tyco wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Reno bit down on his annoyance and fumed in silence. If only they had gone for the helicopter instead. Sure, the mark would have guessed something was up as soon a chopper appeared on his tail, but they wouldn't have needed to spin this way and that just to stay on him. The view from above was–

Reno went still. He watched that aerial map in his head, traced the route of the street they were on.

"Take a left here," he ordered.

"What? But I'm gaining on him!"

"Shortcut," Reno snapped. "Left, left!"

Tyco spat a curse and spun the wheel. He made the turn, though only barely, scraping a car waiting at the corner.

"The road curves to the left farther ahead." Reno's words tumbled over each other in a jittery rush. "We can cut him off on Fifth."

"I hope you're right." Tyco glanced at the rearview mirror. People were yelling and waving their fists in their wake, but no one was on the ground.

"'Course I'm right. This is my fucking city, remember?" Reno pointed at the upcoming intersection. "Take a right here and keep it floored."

Tyco cleared the corner to a chorus of bleating horns and howling tires.

"I don't like it," he growled he as he tore down yet another unfamiliar street. "We could lose him!"

"Ain't no way off that road 'til it crosses this one, all right? If we don't see the car pass by," Reno gestured to the intersection up ahead, "then we know we're ahead of him."

"Fine. Say you're right and we get there first. Then what?"

"Then we force him off the fucking road," Reno groaned. "Stop in front of him, bump his ride, whatever the hell you need to do. It ain't fucking rocket science." He tapped his finger against the windshield. "This is it, right here. Do you see him?"

The traffic light was green. Tyco hit the brakes as they came to the intersection and covered most of the right side of the road with the car. The road curved, just as Reno had said, but neither of the two vehicles honking at them at the lights were the one they were looking for.

"No, I don't see him!" Tyco slapped the steering wheel. "Great fucking job, Reno. We lost–"

To their right, tires screeched.

"Two o'clock!" Reno yelled, too late. The silver sedan shot past the waiting queue and slammed into the front of their car.

Reno moaned. His head felt heavy and dull like a bag of rocks, and the ringing in his ears was giving him a headache. Or was it the other way around?

"Reno?"

He cracked his eyes open. A shadow loomed over him, blocking out most of the light. He squeezed his eyes shut again. Fuck that, whatever it was.

"Reno, wake up!"

He swatted at the pesky shadow, but it grabbed his hand and pushed it down. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe, either; something was squeezing his chest.

"Brace yourself. I'm cutting the seatbelt."

"The… huh?"

The pressure on Reno's chest vanished abruptly. Luckily, his arms were dangling down past his head and softened the impact. While he floundered around, trying to untangle himself, someone grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled. Swearing and kicking weakly, Reno found himself dragged into the light.

"Snap out of it!" Tyco, no longer just a shadow, hauled Reno up by the front of his suit. "Come on, we have to go!"

"Wait," he mumbled and pawed at the car door, trying to slow them down. "The other car…"

"No time! Come on, move!"

Reno could barely make heads or tails of the words, but the urgency in Tyco's voice was enough to get his feet moving. Clinging to each other, they stumbled past the tail end of the car and down the street toward the huddle of vehicles that had stopped at a safe distance. A few of the onlookers came running toward them.

"Stop," Tyco yelled, waving them back. "Get back! Turk business! Get–"

The ground rocked with a deafening explosion, moments before a wall of heat knocked them both to the ground. Reno groaned out a curse, clutching his ribs. The blast had rattled each and every one of them loose, or so it felt.

The blast. Reno snapped his eyes open and shoved himself off the pavement. A roaring fireball had swallowed up their car.

He could have been inside that fireball.

"Holy fuck." Reno coughed as the wind blew a gust of acrid smoke in his face. "I thought that only happened in the movies!"

"The guy had a bag full of explosives, remember?" A few feet away, Tyco was pushing himself up too, his face smudged and his glasses askew. "He crashed his car right into ours."

Reno peered at the wreckage, trying to see the vehicles within the blaze. He could make out their outlines, but not what was inside.

"Was he in there?"

Tyco gave a tired nod. "Slumped over the steering wheel."

"Damn. Mission complete, I guess." The adrenaline was still pumping through Reno's veins, making him giddy and lightheaded. With a mad grin he spread his arm, indicating the disaster area in front of them. "See? What did I tell ya? Bam, shortcut."

"Yeah," Tyco chuckled. "We cut him off, all right."

As his dry laughter turned into a wheeze, Reno watched the flames lick the blistering ruin that had once been their sleek, black car. Specially outfitted for Turk use, no doubt. Tuned engine, bulletproof windows, the whole shebang.

"That ain't driving anywhere now, is it?"

"The car? Nope."

"Shit. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Tyco snorted. "Guess this is what Freyra was talking about."

"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and laugh it up. She sure would." Reno sighed. "I just hope Tseng ain't gonna dock this from my pay."

"Don't worry. I'm the one who was driving, after all."

Tyco's smile was crooked, but no matter how carefully Reno scrutinized the man's reply, he couldn't read any insult between the lines.

"Huh," he said.

"Well, I'd better call it in." Tyco reached into his jacket and pulled put his PHS.

While he made the call, Reno dragged himself to the nearest wall and slumped to the ground. The people who had come running before the blast were keeping their distance now, whispering among themselves between skittish glances. Turk business, Tyco had hollered at them. That ought to be enough to keep anyone with half a brain away from them, especially when explosions were involved.

Tyco, who had finished his call, eyed the pavement and wrinkled his nose. Squashed empty cans and torn strips of paper littered the street, and he didn't even want to guess what might lie underneath. The way his shoes stuck to asphalt with every step was… disquieting.

"Just sit your ass down already," Reno said, rolling his eyes. "Ain't like the ground looks any worse than you right now."

As Tyco turned his scrutiny toward himself, his expression became one of pure disgust. After a half-hearted attempt to wipe off the more egregious stains, he sighed in defeat and dropped down next to Reno.

Reno turned his face up toward the cloudy sky and idly poked and prodded his ribs, until he felt reasonably sure that none of them were broken. What a weird fucking day. Had it really been just that morning that he had been called into Tseng's office? Mere hours since he and blondie had tried to beat each other to a bloody pulp?

"Y'know," he said slowly, "there's one thing I gotta ask. Ketchup?"

Tyco blinked and stopped picking bits of litter out of his pants.

"What?"

"Before the fight. You called me ketchup."

As his confusion gave way to understanding, Tyco started chuckling. Reno narrowed his eyes.

"What's so damn funny?"

"It was…" Tyco pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "It was your hair. Like an exploded tomato, you know?"

Slowly, Reno's jaw dropped.

"Are you fucking serious? That's the lamest insult I've heard all year!"

"I know," Tyco chortled. "You'd just said something about noodles, and your damn hair was right there in my face… Titan's ass, it was so bad."

"Is it too clever for you?" Reno mimicked, then threw his head back, cackling. "Oh, you're such an asshole!"

"You only say that… because you wish… you'd thought of it first."

Tyco was barely understandable over his fit of giggles; just as well, because Reno had no comeback to that. He could hardly breathe.

The wail of approaching sirens sobered them both up. Tyco muttered something and clambered to his feet. With a sigh, Reno stifled the last of his giggles and followed suit. He took in the flaming wreckage of their cars, the rapidly growing crowd of curious faces. Bomb guy was dead. They had called it in. There was no point hanging around in their Turk suits, giving people ideas for silly rumors.

Reno looked over at Tyco, who was still trying to brush the dirt off his suit. He may as well have tried polishing a turd.

"You know what?" Reno said, addressing the world in general. "I could really use a drink."

With a sigh, Tyco let his hands fall and looked up.

"Goblins?"

Reno nodded once. "Goblins."

Tyco fell in beside him as he headed down the street. Side by filthy side, they trudged toward Sector 8.

Tseng watched with an impassive face while the officer busied himself with the cell door. The wait dragged on due to the man's unsteady hands. When the lock clicked open at last, he gave a shaky salute and made himself scarce. Tseng ignored him. He drew a measured breath, then pushed the cell door open. An eye-watering reek of alcohol hit him straight in the face.

The cell was small and dim, with a bare cot on either side of the door. Upon each cot lay a man in a rumpled suit; one a snoring redhead, the other one a blond huddled up under his jacket. Tseng stepped over to the former and gave his cot a swift kick. Reno started awake with a yelp; only to curl up again, moaning and clutching his head.

"Wake up," Tseng barked. "We're leaving."

"Talk about a rude awakening," Reno griped, slurring slightly. "The hell kinda hotel is this?"

"It's a jail cell, Reno."

Reno's eyes cracked open. They wandered a meandering path across his surroundings.

"Huh," he finally said, blinking sluggishly. "Explains a few things, I guess."

"I'm glad," Tseng said dryly. "Care to explain yourself to me?"

"Uh…" Reno faced his stony glare with a bleary grin. "I think this one pretty much explains itself, boss."

"Dare I ask what the damage is?" asked a third voice.

They both turned to see their blond colleague emerge from the jacket he had used as a blanket. While Reno looked as shabby as he always did, the change in Tyco was more startling. His tie had gone missing along with one of the top buttons of his shirt, and his glasses remained skewed even after he tried adjusting them over his pink, puffy eyes.

"Tyco!" Reno exclaimed as he struggled up from his cot. "Congrats, buddy!"

The other man winced and covered his ears.

"For what?" he groaned.

"Surviving a night out with me, duh. You're a real Turk now!"

"I've been a real Turk the whole time, dumbass."

"Sure," Reno conceded, "but now you've proven it. Turk buds for life, yo!"

"Turks you are, both of you," Tseng said with icy calm, "though neither of you seem to understand what that implies. I should dock your pay for a week for making come out here at seven in the morning.

With a choked sound in his throat, Reno's eyes went wide. Tyco merely sighed as he pushed himself up to perch on the edge of the cot.

"However," the Turk leader added, "considering the circumstances, I'll let you both off with a warning."

Reno blew out a sigh of relief. Tyco's head shot up, his face pale.

"A warning?" he repeated. "As in officially? On my record?"

"Aw, don't worry, buddy." Reno tottered over and pulled him to his feet by the shoulders. "I'll talk to the boss man later," he whispered conspiratorially, louder than most people's indoor voices. "I bet I can get him to pin it all on me, all right?"

Tyco stared at his shoes as he gave it some thought.

"No," he finally said, "I can't let you do that. It wouldn't be fair."

Reno dissolved into a fit of wheezing laughter.

"C'mon, man, you're a Turk! The hell do you care 'bout fair?"

Tyco frowned at him at first, but Reno's snickering was too infectious. Soon, both of them were giggling like idiots.

"C'mon, let's get outta here." Reno wound an arm around Tyco's shoulders and dragged him along as he staggered out of the cell. "You coming, boss man?"

Tseng watched them go, relying on the walls and each other to stay upright, their drunken laughter reverberating off the metal doors in the corridor outside. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Careful what you wish for," he muttered to himself, then marched after the giggling pair.

A/N:

Well, that's the end of this little misadventure. I hope you enjoyed! As always, special thanks to my beta Mr. Stompy and to YOU for reading. :D