Disclaimer: Again, I do not own FFVII or any related locations, terms, etc. I own solely my OCs and the majority of the plotline. The first person to find where my sanity went while writing the opening to this chapter wins a chocobo….
A sad announcement: My beloved beta, Rebellious Turk, has had to resign from the "The Fading Skyline" team because of life being, well, life. For that, as well as some other reasons, I apologize for this chapter being so late. I'll try to keep this to a weekly updated story. And JESUS. Every time I centered anything, it aligned it to the left afterwards. Fuck. Sorry, guys.
The Fading Skyline
Chapter IX: Of Costans and Contests
Reno made a sound stuck between a cough and a shocked laugh. "Sephiroth? What's that freak doing here?" As those words slipped out of his mouth, he heard someone begin to snicker from behind him. Turning around, he saw the russet tones of the rookie's hand covering her mouth to hide her sarcastic laughter. And directly in front of her? The mighty general in all his glory.
Sephiroth.
"He's here because you Turks remain unable to complete a job without assistance."
"All riiiight~. Whose a hero? You are~ and you are, and you are...." Finally back in Midgar, the Turks that had been stationed at Junon where all beginning to file in behind Veld. Each one of them was promptly accosted by Jayden, his enthusiastic demeanour congratulating all of them as they stepped out of the elevator and into the temporary Turk headquarters that lay on the 42nd floor. A plain floor filled with useless cubicles, a conference room, a small lounge area and a door that lead to Veld's office. It was terrible plain and ill fitting when compared to the nature of the missions the Turks were assigned.
"Veld! The man of the hour!" Jayden exclaimed. The blonde haired man raised his right hand for a high-five. "Come on boss, up top!" Veld, now used to the rookie's behaviour after a month and a half, just ignored him and walked further into the floor, making room for the others to enter behind him. Jayden frowned for a moment, but he continued to try and get high-fives from Nora, who gave him a rather chilling stare; Tseng, who had gone down to meet the returning group and now gave Jayden a reproaching look; Myria, who just pushed past and then finally Reno. The red haired man was the only one who humoured him and brought his hand within a few inches of Jayden's before pulling it back.
"Too slow," he informed the younger man in a tired voice. He was exhausted. They all were but no one else had to hold off half a rebel army for three hours….
Jayden looked at the slow moving train of Turks as they made their way back to the conference room of the floor. A few other Turks that had been gathered around the floor began to file their way to where Veld and the others were gathering. He made it a quick priority to follow them into the room, too excited to hear their tales to take a seat like the rest of his peers. Veld didn't waste a moment in debriefing them.
"Good work, everybody. You all did well. The President's still alive, we've protected Midgar."
"What about Junon?" Cissnei asked slowly. "How many fatalities were there?"
"You mean on our side or theirs?" Myria piqued. Though no one aside from her and Veld would know, any irritation she had was from the fact that she had to spend the whole helicopter ride beside Veld, still with no sign on if she was going to be fired or not.
"None of our men were lost," said Tseng.
Reno snorted. "Different story for AVALANCHE. Still…. Even with Sephiroth and myself,"—oh, even when tired his cocky attitude did not know how to shut off—, "I don't think we made much of a dent. They just kept coming and coming…." He turned his head towards Veld. "What are we gonna go, sir? There's no way that after this fiasco, they'd just let up and shrink away." A few others nodded in agreement.
"Be as that may, we still know very little about the organization."
"Didn't intell give us anything useful?" Jayden asked.
"Not much."
From the corner of his eye, he could see Myria straining her neck to check the clock for what time it was. When she saw it, her annoyed expression only grew worse. "Who would have thought that being attacked would have some benefits," she muttered darker. "At least we know about their leader."
"How'd you figure that one out, rookie?"
She forced a sarcastic smile. "Dear Miss Elfe decided it would be a good idea to pay me a visit. She seemed to think that trying to kill me would make her feel a bit better about her organization failing with its mission."
"Ah, so that's why the general was really there," laughed Reno. "He was saving you."
"Shut up." Her tone didn't even suggest the twisted sort of playfulness the Turks used when they cursed one another out. It was just plain old nasty.
Veld stepped up to the table resting a hand on Myria's shoulder—something that made her flinch but it made her freeze and shut up immediately. Just like a grade school teacher politely telling a student to be quiet. "Everything is going to be taken care of," he assured despite no one having inquired as to if it would. "For now, I just want everyone who was active in Junon—" he paused and looked at the clock, "… Yesterday and today to get some rest. You'll be on stand-by tomorrow. You don't have to come in unless you're called for. Keep an eye out on the streets though. See what you can hear."
When he dismissed them, a few moments later, Myria was the first one out the door despite being the one furthest from her and she was the fastest to exit building. After all, she had a demanding three year old waiting for her.
"You hate me."
Those were the simple words that Marisol presented her mother with when she finally slipped through the hotel room's door at just past three in the morning. It also just past twenty-four hours since she had seen the child but that grumble made Myria re-consider any polite greeting she had to say to the child. "You're okay," she sighed, dropping down onto the bed and wrapping the little girl up in her arms. "I was so worried…."
"Liar." The word sliced through her deeper than any of the stiched up cuts on her arms were.
"Marisol!" Myria tried to turn her daughter so that they were face-to-face but the daughter in question managed to squirm out of her grip.
"You hate me," Marisol repeated. She kept her back to turn her mother, trying to hide the tears that were coming down her face. The sniffling sounds gave it away. "I… didn't mean to make you run away for so long…. I won't steal your pillow this time, I promise." Another sniffle.
"Oh, mi vida," Myria sighed. She crawled over to the other side of the bed and pulled Marisol into another hug. "I'd never run away from you and I could never hate you."
"Then why'd you leave me? You promised you'd come back quick and you broke your promise."
"I have to work, you know that. As much as I want to, I can't just walk away from any jobs I get. Trust me, I would if I could. But I can't. I'd get fired."
"Then get fired!" the girl suddenly demanded. "I hate it here. You leave me all alone during the day and you're not here to wake me up or take care of me." The silence that ensued the small girl's outburst seemed endless. Myria would never dream of telling the truth to her baby girl; that she would be killed if her contract with Shin-Ra Electric Company became voided, but she couldn't come up with a lie to justify what she was doing either. In the beginning, she had told Marisol that she was protecting people like Jefe had protected his Costan neighbours but even Jefe came home through out the day, always stopping in the see his 'favourite women,' as he had called them.
More silence, a minute or two perhaps and then a sniffle.
"I want to go home, mami."
The next day, while Myria took advantage of her time off to go exploring Midgar, she received a phone call from Tseng. The company had a vacant room on the designated floor for the female workers that the company had deemed as hers. She was expected to have everything out of the hotel by check out on Friday, at which time the company would cease to pay her bill. She could continue to stay at the hotel—if she could afford it. But any money she had was halfway across the world right now, in a hot humid country known primarily for its sunny coasts and tourist hot spots.
There, a man twelve years older would be receiving a phone call from a newly acquired connection. "Shin-Ra will appear in your town once again," was what the informant stated. The man asked how long they had until then. "They'll be arriving within the next few days."
A short pause. "They're moving quite quickly, aren't they? Haven't they done enough to my town?"
"The company likes what obtained during the raid."
The man sighed. "So then they're coming back for seconds, eh? Greedy bastards. I don't think what they found is going to be worth that much to them…."
"On the contrary, I've seen it first hand. Impressive, but not refined."
The thirty year old let out nostalgic chortle. "No, she never was."
Sure enough, as the informant had warned, a large aquatic vessel baring the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company logo had appeared within the main port of Costa del Sol. Not the main port that rested in the tourist area, but rather one on a beach that stretched for miles where the locals resided. The red and white logo did not go unnoticed by the Costan people—shops began to close almost instantly and mothers began to usher their children in the direction of their homes. Several minutes later, two figures emerged from the ship, each clad in black uniforms.
The first out was a tall and lanky man, his red hair flaming in the sunlight and the second was the darker skinned man whom the red head had just been informed was his official partner from this mission fourth.
"Yo, I don't know what you're so worried about Rude," Reno began as he stepped onto the beach, pushing his shoes extra hard into the sand to enjoy the sound it made. "If you ditched the jacket, you could blend right in with some of the locals."
Rude readjusted his sunglasses. "If I removed my jacket, I would be removing the appearance that states I'm loyal to the company," he said simply.
Reno snorted. "They saw you walk out of a Shin-Ra owned ship—they already know you're with the Company." His walking pace was slow and taken back, by now, Rude had already passed him. When Rude looked back with an inquiring expression hidden behind his sunglasses, Reno grinned. "What? We're in a vacation town, ain't we? I'm gonna relax and take it easy. Hell…. I bet we could get a drink for real cheap too!"
He could almost hear Rude roll his eyes.
"Don't be like that big guy," he said, catching up to Rude. "Look, right there. A bouncer, a flashy neon sign. That looks like a bar if I ever saw one." Clapping his partner on his shoulder, the twenty year old started off for the bar, whistling a merry tune under his breath. He stopped at the bouncer, smirking as he received a hateful look from the Costan. "Wanna check my ID, amigo?" he asked. Receiving only a glare, he took that as a please-go-on-ahead-sir gesture.
Inside the building, he learned that he was mistaken. He had not entered a bar, but rather, a fight club. While, yes, he could see a bartender behind a counter and numerous sets of tables and chairs but what caught his attention was the fighting ring in the middle of the large room. Within it, three bulky men were ganging up on a man half their size and probably twice their age. Looking the scrawny man over, Reno nodded impressively as the single man took out all three opponents within a few seconds.
Men and women around the ring began to chant, "King! King! King! King!"
Funny, he didn't expect to hear any words from the Midgar dialect this far away from home. Maybe they had some bilingual program like the ones Midgar never bothered with. Either way, he had found his target.
Earlier that morning, Veld and briefed himself and Rude about a new request the executive had; SOLDIER candidates—and lots of them. Additionally, they only seemed to be after Costan candidates for some reason. To recruit candidates, Veld had sent them straight to the source with the address for this building in particular. It wasn't just a fighting club; it was a stronghold for some of the best fighters Costa del Sol had to offer. Furthermore, the fighters all lived by one golden rule. Follow the King at all costs. The King was supposedly the toughest fighter in the club and to become him, as well as gain absolute control of the club's members, an outsider had to defeat every member and then defeat the current king.
Which meant their mission was obvious.
Become the next King and order them onto the vessel.
"You have any questions, my friend?" Reno heard a man ask. Turning, he saw the bartender was addressing him.
"You got any booze I can pronounce the name of?" the Turk replied.
"That will all depend on you," laughed the barista. "But I'm sure to have at least one to fit your fancy. Come, have a drink. First time here, right? It's on me."
Not one to pass up free alcohol or a chance to sit and observe his future opponents, Reno made his way to the bar. When inquired as to what he wanted to drink, he responded with, "Something from your favourite year. On the rocks."
This made the bartender smile to himself. "My favourite year?" he mused aloud. His hand hovered over some bottles with Costan names already spread out along the counter behind him for a few moments, and then he walked in the other direction, disappearing under the counter. "You, my friend, are making this a very difficult decision," he called from a cupboard in the counter. A few moments later, Reno heard a crashing sound as the man bumped his head on the way up, cursing under his breath but emerging with a few bottles in each hand. "My favourite year," he announced, setting them down in a row in front of the Turk.
Reno counted backwards to the year of the alcohol that had been selected for him as he pointed to an dark amber liquid in a plain clear bottle. "Only four years ago?" the red head questioned. The bartender smirked. "What's so special about that year?"
"Ah, that was the year I first met my girlfriend," came the words as the drink was poured. It was presented to Reno with a clunk.
"Oh yeah? You been together the whole time since then?"
"Yes sir."
The Turk nodded faintly as he took a sip from his drink. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed that the entire area seemed to have gone quiet. Everyone either had their eyes turned on him and the bartender or where playing cards quietly and pretending that they weren't listening. "Somethin' on my face?" With those words, the noise in the bar took up again. With a glance at his server, he noticed the older man seemed to be troubled with something.
"You shouldn't be here," the bartender muttered quietly after awhile. "It's not safe. You should take your friend and go."
"Nah, I kinda like it here. Nothing seems wrong here."
The bartender sucked his teeth and shook his head. Similar to Reno, he had enough dark hair to throw in a small ponytail but he left it down in shaggy curls. "Please don't be coy sir." By now, Reno was enjoying the idea of being called 'sir' by an older man. "We all know how you are. No—don't deny it, sir. We all know you're with Shin-Ra. One of your kind came down here during a raid last month. Never woulda thought I'd see someone from Wutai as one of Shin-Ra's lapdogs….." It took Reno a moment to realize the man was speaking about Tseng.
"So? If you all hate me so much, why don't ya just kill me know and get it over with?"
"You misunderstand our customs sir—"
"Reno," he corrected.
"Right. Reno, you misunderstand our customs. Unlike you, we fight fair. If you haven't said or done anything that would incline us to believe you wanted to fight, we would never engage you."
"Sounds like a shitty bunch of chivalry to me. That's not gonna do you much good if—" The bartender cut him off.
"If what? The company decides to wage a war against us? Please. We've lost enough. Let's not talk of such a dark and dim future."
"Tell me about your girlfriend then," Reno asked. If he angered the man enough, he would be thrown out with Rude and then the rules of the club might not apply when he took the King up in a fight. He needed to get back on the barista's good side again. "What she was like?"
A crooked smile appeared. "She was… amazing."
"Good girl?"
"Good girl, better in bed." Reno smirked as the man continued. "She never said 'no' to anything I asked her to do."
"In the bedroom or outside it?" Reno pressed. From across the room, he could hear Rude mutter something about how he was going to get hurt by inquiring about the wrong person's sex life.
"Both. She couldn't keep quiet either. …. No, but she was a sweet girl. Treated me better than my own mother did. She cooked, she cleaned…." The man let out a nostalgic sigh. Reno took the time to finish off his drink. He tossed a glance at the ring and then back at the bartender.
"So, what chance do you think an outsider like me has against these guys?"
"Them? Why… why would you—?"
Reno swivelled in the chair. "I want them," he answered simply.
"You what?"
The next response was louder and it reached everyone's ears. "Everybody in this club. You're all going to become SOLDIER candidates," he announced receiving glares and curses immediately after.
"And what if we refuse?" shouted someone near the rink.
"Then I'm going to take you all by force."
"Take all of us away?" Another man began, walking towards Reno. "Don't kid yourself. You think we're just going to let you do whatever you want?!"
"I'm thinking you should get out of my face under your own will while you still can."
"Little piece of shit."
And that was how the fighting began. The bartender watched, quite amused as he reached for a rag and started to rub his counter absentmindedly. Reno took the defensive position automatically, not out of inexperience, but he could recognize it as going slow and cautious to become more aware. He was learning how the Costans fought; what his opponent's weaknesses were….. He wasn't taking it seriously at all. Maybe a minute later, the man who had jumped Reno was lying on the floor, incapacitated and moaning pathetically.
"Amazing," the bartender breathed.
Reno turned back face the bartender. "You never told me man, whaddya think my chances are?" The only reason this was asked was to mock the assembled club members. Still the bartender had to laugh out loud.
"No one's going to be beat you," he declared loudly with a chuckle. "They won't stand a chance against someone as quick as you."
"Think so?"
"I know so. They're not going to come close to beating you."
"Huh…." Reno turned around to face the King, who was standing completely baffled in the ring. "Guess that means I'm going after you next. You ready?"
The King blinked before mulling it over. "An outsider has to know the rules. The rules here are simple. The strongest person in the club decides all the rules. In other words, I'm the rules in this place!"
"Then fight me. I'm going to become the next King."
"So confident," chuckled the bartender. "Well, my friend, he's missing one important rule—you have to fight the four toughest fighters here aside from the King first."
"Then enough talk. Let's fight."
It took maybe an hour, but it couldn't have lasted longer than that. At that time, several men were doubled over beside the ring and the King had hit the floor so hard, he was beginning to twitch and shiver against his will. Reno stood above him with his hands in his pockets. He never even once brought out the metallic weapon that everyone saw clearly now that his white sleeves were rolled up. (The black jacket and tie having been abandoned long ago.)
"Anyone else?" the Turk asked softly, eyes darting around room. Of course, no one dared. "Alright then. Everyone, up and at 'em, yo. As my first act as King, I'm ordering all of your sorry asses back to the ship with Rude and I. Once we arrive in Midgar, you'll become SOLDIER candidates. Welcome to Shin-Ra."
No one dared make a sound. They all glanced at the bartender, the only true witness they would believe and he nodded solemnly. "You're being ordered by your King," he repeated. "You must do exactly as he says. Farewell, my friends." Rude began to line everyone up to follow him outside the bar. Reno took up the rear, ready to get back to the ship as soon as possible to take a nap but not before stopping at the bar once again.
"Hey man." He nodded at the bartender. "You ain't a fighter are ya?"
Wide eyed, the bartender shook his head. "Not a member of the club either. They just sign my check."
"Guess you lucked out then."
"Guess I did."
Looking at the older man, Reno suddenly felt as though he'd seen the man before. "What did you say your name was?" he asked.
"I didn't. But you…. You my friend, you can call me Jefe."
The name didn't ring a bell. He just was one of those guys with familiar faces. "Nice to meet you, Jefe. Let's hope we never have to meet again." Both men shook hands. Reno left a few moments later, never getting the chance to hear Jefe's next words.
"Yes, that would be best… for her."
