AN: I know this is pathetic, but I did try. Reno's maybe 10 in this, and for this one I DO recommend reading the first in the series (hate) so that you understand some of his reasoning, I'll try to make the next one stand by itself though, I promise.
(Added at a later date):Ok, I've gone over this thing, like 200 times, and have finally said 'what the hell' and decided to post it. Sorry if it sucks.
"Atonement, gentlemen,"- Nelson, Flatliners
Reno coughed roughly as he walked through the frigid air, anxious to be home.
He was actually looking forward to seeing the other boys, with their messy hair
and too thin bodies.
He rubbed a new cut on his arm thoughtfully, it
wasn't very deep, but he knew he should disinfect it, out here a scratch could
turn deadly, and he was in too good a mood to die right now.
He reached
the hovel his gang was calling home and pushed his way in. None of the boys
acknowledged him as he walked past, which was no surprise really; he was the
youngest of them all by at least two years.
He skipped up the rotted
stairs and into the back room, pulling out a plastic baggy as he went. "Hey,
Lancer. I got the stuff," He smiled proudly, seeking approval without knowing
why.
A young man came forward from the darkness, he was scarred and pale,
but powerful looking, "Ah, good job, kiddo." He smiled at Reno, and his teeth
flashed. "How'd work go today?" He asked, taking the baggy and tossing it up and
down.
"Aw, not so good," Reno shrugged, but did not look away.
"No? I'm surprised," Lancer said, with a true smile, "God knows you're
the prettiest boy out here."
Yeah, maybe that's why everyone hates me,
Reno thought to himself, and turned to go.
"Oh, yeah, Kasim was lookin'
for ya earlier."
Reno looked up, "Really?" but Lancer had already moved
away.
Kasim was the closest thing to a friend Reno had in the gang. He
was a tall, thin and sad, but he was also kind, and despite the fairly large age
difference, five years, he treated Reno well.
In an even better mood, and
forgetting his cut, Reno flew back down the stairs. He found Kasim out back,
watching the sky.
"Hey, Kaz! Lancer said you were looking for
me?"
"Yeah, yeah," The tall boy looked down at him, thoughtful expression
on his face.
"Well. What's up?" Reno asked.
"I, well." The older
boy took a breath, ran a hand through his hair.
Reno watched him
intently, Kasim rarely puttered around.
"Look," He finally said, "Daniel
picked some guy's pocket today down by the bar." Kasim pulled something out of
his own pocket, "The name, the I.D… I wasn't sure. So, so I decided I'd better
show you. Y'know, instead of just taking care of it." He pressed a black leather
wallet into Reno's hands, "I'm, I'm sorry."
Confused and frightened, Reno
took the wallet, "This is bad?" He asked, sincerely, just before flipping it
open.
"Yeah," Kasim answered, in sync with Reno's shocked gasp. "Yeah."
Reno's stared at the picture on the drivers license for a second, before
beginning to read rapidly. "Apartment C, Desmond St…" he muttered softly to
himself before dropping the wallet into the dirt and stalking off, back towards
the hideout.
"Hey, kiddo," Kasim called to Reno's retreating form, "You
want me to handle it?"
"No. No, I don't want!" Reno snarled, walking
faster.
"Where ya goin', Reno?" Kasim asked, almost desperately,
stretching his arm out, as if it grab the boy, though he was already out of
reach.
"To get a gun."
***
Reno found Desmond Street easily
enough, and apartment C, he was disgusted to realize that it was actually one of
the better places in the sector 2 slums. Still, knocking the door in was easy
enough.
The man in the living room froze as Reno walked over the
splintered remains of his door. His eyes widened, and he looked about to say
something. That was when Reno raised the gun, a small revolver given to him by
Lancer, no questions asked. The man's eyes widened more, "You-"
Reno
noted with detached pleasure that his arm was completely steady as he pulled the
trigger twice, in rapid succession. The first bullet shattered the man's
kneecap, the second buried itself in his thigh. The man was screaming.
Reno smiled smugly, eyes shining. He told the man all he needed to know
with those gleaming eyes, that no one would answer his screams and wails for
help, no matter how long or how loud they were. The eyes held a glint possessed
only by killers and dead men, and the man recognized it, recognized the boy
before him; and he howled even louder.
Only after Reno saw the horror
take hold in the man's face, the terrible fear, only after the man crawled to
his feet apologizing, promising, praying, and finally begging for pity did Reno
finally kill him.
He smiled the whole time.
He walked out of the
house, blood on his shoes, and away into the cool evening. He was coughing
slightly, and hoping fervently that one of his clients hadn't given him AIDS or
something.
Behind him, his father lay dead in a pool of blood, eyes wide
and glassy.