A/N: So this has been by leaps and bounds the most difficult chapter for me to write. In fact, I had 90% of the next chapter done before I had a hundred words of this. And I've changed the title 5 times already (and will probably change it again before I actually upload this). Don't get me wrong – I love Reno to death. He's at the top of my list, only trumped by Vincent. BUT – this was really hard for me to not just end up with a more sarcastic version of Rude's chapter. And it was really hard for me to find a song to fit this, so apologies if it feels forced – but I sort of set that as my goal when I started and I'm stubborn.

Honestly, I think this chapter is garbage. But I've beat my head against the wall long enough and I'm at the point now where I don't think it's every going to make me happy, so it's time to keep it moving. It is what it is. Sorry. The next chapter, I love, so please don't abandon me over this. Pretty please?

Anyway, sorry for the wait. On with the show.

Reno's POV

NOLA: Part 4

Underneath Everything

I guess I'm a strange sort of optimist. Not in the traditional sense. I'm not naïve or ignorant to the ugly shit this world has to offer. Far from it. I was raised on it. When it comes to Turk matters, though, I have a well reasoned sense of optimism. When you work with the most highly trained operatives walking the Planet, you tend to take for granted that everyone's going to do their jobs and come walking instead of in a body bag. Hell, Tseng took Sephiroth's sword in stride when that Centra whelp and that almighty President ShinRa – or rather, Former President, due to said sword – crumbled and submitted to Death's eager embrace.

So when Tseng and Elena got snatched up by those silver-haired freaks, I expected them to come around again in no time. That's not to say I didn't hold my doubts. Like I said, I'm not naïve - and those lunatics showing up for the fight pretty much unscathed didn't exactly leave me waiting with bated breath.

But, in Tseng's usual style, the two arrived fashionably late to the showdown – bandaged to hell, but ready for a fight. Laney pointed off into the distance to accompany Tseng's one word reply to my silent question – "Valentine."

I followed the direction of her chipped nail and, well, color me shocked.

He was a blur of motion. All of those AVALANCHE tools were good in a fight, but this was just ridiculous. If it wasn't for that silly red cape the man seemed to love prancing around in marking his movements, you'd think he'd teleported from place to place. It was inhuman – and come to think of it, that could very well be an accurate description. I mean, they had a talking dog in the crew – a gun slinging vampire paled in comparison.

Promised land divide – that's where the world lies…

It's hard to ignore the fact that the world is pretty screwed when you watched him. Our greatest hope is an ex-assassin turned immortal genetic experiment. Yeah. Ex-Turk. Not ex-SOLDIER. Strife pulls his weight, sure, but he's the pretty poster boy. All he seems to bring to the table is a big sword and a lot of pent up aggression that Sephiroth managed to unlock. A blind man could see the kid is obviously not pulling the strings of strategy all on his lonesome.

I hate to tell you, kid, but you're not out of the woods yet. Sure, I don't know everything our illustrious former President had his greedy little paws in, but I'm not a Turk for nothing. We see a lot of things, and maybe I've poked my head around enough places I would've gotten fired for – enough to know there's a lot of ugly ghosts out there waiting for their shot at the limelight. Ghosts that are a little too ugly for your passion for your dead girlfriend and amicable feelings towards the world to pull you through.

Men like us – like Valentine – that have already given up on this pathetic little life are what the Planet's gonna need to weather these storms. Men that have already lost their stake on the Promised Land. Men that don't care about earning any more war stories and the last person they want to see on the other side once they finally kick it is the Lord.

Men that don't need a reason.

Not that we're above it. If anything, we're underneath – underneath everything. Underneath the notice of the masses. Far too low for God to still give a rip about what we have to do to get the job done. Just ghosts of a time you all have already forgotten.

And don't think that just because the freak's good on the field that it means I like him. Cheap shot taking bastard.

Yeah, I'm still bitter about the Northern Continent. I owe him one for that. But I suppose considering a war is being fought on all sides, now's not the most prudent time to bring it up. And burying two Turks probably would've given me a gray hair or two, so if he's somehow responsible for Tseng and Elena making it back in one piece, I guess I can let it slide. Just this once.

After the tranquilizer had warn off (which, by the way, was just an insult - I'm sure I warrant a bullet), I came to with Elena flying the chopper – a scary thought. And if that wasn't enough to give me an ulcer, the heated argument taking place between Rude and Tseng was. And by heated, I mean a lot of one word questions and silent staring from Rude and perfectly coif, well rehearsed responses from Tseng. But for those two I'm-So-Scary-Because-Of-How-Quiet-And-Professional-I-Am jackasses? Might as well have been a fist fight. Laney, thankfully, was blissfully ignorant to the whole ordeal – she was a bad enough pilot without eavesdropping on the latest news.

The cat was out of the bag – Valentine's a Turk.

Big surprise? I personally didn't think so. Rude and Tseng may have considered themselves above water cooler gossip, but I knew the legends. Not the nice, pretty stories Laney grew up idolizing. My legends were about the boogey men in blue suits – old wives tales designed to keep us bastard children of the slums from getting too far out of line. Valentine (though I didn't have a name to place with the stories until the guy shacked up with Strife) was King Boogey when I was a kid.

When Tseng caught me rooting around ShinRa's encrypted personnel files – though, based on his reaction to the whole situation, I'm sure he didn't know what I was looking for at the time – he told me that curiosity killed the cat and sidelined me with office duty for a week. When Laney heard about it, she told me I was too nosy for my own damn good. Nosy? Hardly. Professionally interested – which is what we were paid for anyway, wasn't it? Undue cause for punishment. I'd have submitted a formal complaint, except the person I would've been complaining about would've been the one to receive it. Circumvent the paper work and just deal with it.

Sorry, Tseng, but I'm no cat. I'm just a stray dog that was raised to believe the street would be my death. My death at his hands.

To prove a point, to laugh it off, to cross you off my path…

I was pissed when I first put the pieces together. The bastard was a traitor! But I took my small consolation – the one person worth a lick in Strife's little rag-tag band of criminals was one of us. A point of pride, if I wasn't royally pissed about it.

Honestly, I had some trouble buying the story the facts of the matter seemed to present. This guy died in the line of duty before I was born. And based on the legends, the dude had a lot to live up to. Not that expected him to. No one could. That's why they're called legends. But it's like growing up and finding out one day, out of the blue, that there actually were monsters under your bed as a kid – monsters with names and government issued identification. You know it's all bullshit, but you can't keep yourself from sleeping with the light on and upturning your mattress every time you hear a floorboard creek for the next week. This was beyond professional interest – this was about retaining my sanity.

I had watched him more than he realized – although, if he was really the legend he was supposed to be, he probably knew. When I was sidelined with an injury, Tseng bumped me down to recon duty. Know your enemy and all that. I used to love to rub that in Laney's face – she got promoted to replace me during my injury, but I was still in the field more often and doing more worthwhile work. She was so pitiful when she started, but that's off topic.

Yeah, Tseng wanted me on Strife and Wallace – an ex-SOLDIER and a known terrorist teaming up is red flag city. It only took a few peaks from the bushes, though, to realize they weren't necessarily the biggest concern.

He was always deadly – efficient on the battlefield. A perfect soldier, but a lacking warrior. He didn't have that warrior's pizzazz. No passion. He got the job done, for sure, but left a lot of room for improvement in the "victory pose" department. I thought he was dull, or maybe it took all his concentration to fire off those perfect shots. I was slightly under whelmed. He was boring. Deadly and well worth keeping tabs on, but boring.

Watching him fly around like a freak, helping that useless tool Strife take down that massive Bahamut, though, I'm starting to think he was only operating at half-speed when they were trekking down Sephy. A scary thought.

Unfortunately, Sephiroth's Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb didn't see fit to let me keep watching the crimson blur. Works for me. I'm a much better at fighting than I am at the psychoanalysis of dead legends.

Besides, before I was a Turk I was a slum rat. And, well, impressing the Boogey Man is on my bucket list.

Deities my spirit rise, like days the world forgets… - Down, "Underneath Everything"