Mission day.

For Reno, the week had crawled by. Usually, with official leave he would have been off haunting Midgar's bars and taverns, half the time not even bothering to return to his apartment between times.

This time, however, T'seng had forbidden him to even set foot in a bar, and even Reno knew better than to go against the orders of the Turk leader. But it was -hard.- Not a day passed the entire week that he didn't crave a drink; he would often lay awake at nights, staring up at the ceiling, yearning for the comforting oblivion of alcohol.

Now he stood before his boss, cigarette hanging nervously from his lips. Beside him stood Rude. Over the course of the week, in an attempt to turn his mind to anything but liquor, Reno had taken the time to try and get to know his co-worker better. He would have been more successful talking to a rock.

It wasn't that he didn't try. The need for a drink had put the younger Turk on edge, he couldn't sit still, and when he wasn't moving, he was talking. Looking back, he realized that the tall man had probably said one word to each of his twenty. Later, much later, he would learn that Rude was always like that, but at that time it had really set his teeth on edge.

"Gentlemen." T'seng stood behind his desk, alternating his gaze between his two employees. Rude stood stoically, unmoving and passive, his face blank. Briefly, T'seng wondered what color the silent Turk's eyes were underneath his sunglasses. Reno fidgeted, toying with his cigarette, then with the rod he used as his personal weapon. T'seng was willing to put his restlessness down to his extended period of sobriety rather than nervousness.

"Today, we have been asked by ShinRa Inc. to locate one Devyn Kayli. He is currently wanted for crimes against the corporation that are not to be named at this time. Reports say that he is at this time hiding somewhere in Sector 2 down beneath the Plate. Any questions?"

"...Condition?" Rude asked.

"He must be brought back alive, without serious injuries. And yes, Rude, before you ask, a bullet in the arm, either arm, is a serious injury." T'seng watched as Rude's face shifted for a split second, the faintest ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Do we have any connections down in the Sectors?" Reno asked, suddenly feeling put out by his boss and co-worker. He had sensed something pass between them, but couldn't figure out what it was.

"Only your own," T'seng told him. "There is no one down there who will be willing to assist ShinRa, and any resources you may need will have to be acquired yourself." T'seng pulled his jacket over his shoulder holster and adjusted his tie. "Now, let's go."

An hour later, Reno stood alone in the midst of a crowded street, somewhere in the junction between Sectors 2 and 3. He breathed in the thick, humid air as the memories came flooding back to him.

He was home.

Not now, he admonished himself. Now he had to concentrate on finding this Kayli guy, hiding somewhere in the maze of streets and alleyways that made up the Sector slums.

Okay, first things first: ShinRa might not have connections down beneath the plate, but this was Reno's turf. He stood for a moment longer, getting himself situated with his surroundings, then turned and headed down a long alleyway.

Halting at a rusty, nondescript metal door, Reno glanced around, then knocked.

"Yeah?"

"S'Reno."

Slowly, groaning torturously, the door opened. Reno stepped inside and was greeted by an array of sights and smells that had, for the past few months, lurked in the back of his mind as only memories. Now, they hit him full force.

"Hey, guys, it's Reno!" A short, stocky man stood at the foot of a rotting ladder and yelled to a group playing cards on the second floor.

"Whass'at, Poal?" one of them called back.

"Reno, he's back!" Poal shouted again, louder this time.

"Forget it, Poal, I'll jes' get myself up there t' them." Lithely, Reno swung himself onto the ladder and climbed up. The minute he came into view, four of the people sitting around the table jumped to their feet.

"Look who's 'ere!" one of them said, running over to him. The other three followed, leaving their gil forgotten on the table.

"Whoa, Shane, cool it, man," the one girl in the group piped up. "We can see who it is, but Reno here might not be wantin' others to know, understand me?"

"She's right, man." A man with a goatee and hair brighter than Reno's held out his hand. The corners of his mouth rising, Reno clasped the other's wrist. "Good t' see ya again, Reno."

"You too, Clarke. Shane, Rina, Basvin." He nodded at the others. "'S been awhile, 'asn't it, guys?"

"Almost a year," Rina agreed. She ran a hand through her short, slicked back hair. "Whatcha doin' back? Thought ya had gone up and made Turk."

"Who says I didn't?" Reno grinned and looked down at his crumpled suit. "I'm on assignment. Might need a bit a help."

"Anythin' we can do fer ya, man," Clarke told him. "Don't care if ya are workin' fer that damn ShinRa. Yer still a Scavenger, ain'tcha?"

"Always." Reno reached into his shirt and brought out a chain. On it was strung a tarnished silver ring marked with an "S" and another with a "D". "I still got 'em."

Each gang in the slums had a ring, and each gang member wore one with the first letter of their name on it. It didn't matter how many people you had, or how tough you were, without a ring, you weren't a gang.

In order to become part of an existing gang, it was required that you steal the ring from a higher gang member. It made no difference which one, so long as it was higher up on the social ladder than yours. In the highest gang, in Reno's time it had been a group known as the Blades, you had to kill a present member to be initiated. Reno himself had taken out a member of the Diamondbacks. Only later did he realize that he had inadvertently killed their leader.

"Still got these, too," Rina said softly, tracing the scars that ran under each of his eyes. The leader of the Scavengers had come back one night, drunk and angry. He took his rage out on Reno, his switchblade flicking out twice.

"Yeah, they ain't goin' nowhere." Reno gently took her hand away. He tucked the rings back under his shirt and straightened. "Any o' ya heard about some guy named Devyn Kayli?"

"Kayli?" Shane's face scrunched up in thought. "Sounds familiar-"

"It should." Basvin, who had up until then been silent, spoke up. "He's been all over the news. Seems he's got some dirt on our Prez Shinra, when he confronted him with it, Shinra took it badly. They say Kayli killed a couple a SOLDIERs on 'is way out... Shinra didn't take it very well."

"Well, that s'plains it, then," Reno said, jumping up to perch precariously on the creaking banister. "M'boss said he was 'wanted for crimes against the corporation that are not to be named.'" He snorted in acid amusement. "Shinra's coverin' 'is ass."

"So whatcha need?" Shane persisted. "Anythin' we can do fer ya?"

"Yeah." Reno took the cigarette Rina offered and held it out to be lit. "Only info I got is that he's someweres around Sect 2." He took a drag on the light and blew a thin stream of smoke above Shane's head. "And ya know the Sects ain't exactly the smallest places. Lotsa way he could go, and lotsa people willin' to hide 'im. Me bein' jes' one man n' all-"

"Gotcha." Clarke took the cigarette from Reno's hand and drew deeply. "We'll help ya out th' best we can," he said, handing it back. "Ain't that right, guys?"

"Sure thing, Reno." Shane punched the Turk lightly on the shoulder. "Jes' tell us where t' start."

"Thanks, guys," Reno said, grinning. "Yer all I gots left down 'ere." Extinguishing his cigarette on the banister, he jumped down onto the floor and slid down the ladder. In a matter of minutes, they all stood at the entrance to Sector 2.

"Reno."

Startled, Reno spun around, the others doing likewise. Out of the corner of his eye, he was grimly pleased to note that they all, to a man, had a hand on a weapon.

"Jesus, man, give a little warning next time." Reno switched his mag-rod to his left hand and waved placatingly to the others.

"Where have you been?" T'seng asked as he removed his own hand from inside his jacket. Reno thought briefly about the stainless steel .359 magnum that lay nestled inside.

"Sector 3," he told him. "Getting some of my boys together. And girls," he added, as Rina coughed conspicuously.

T'seng's eyes flicked to each face, his Wutain features perfectly neutral. Finaly, he nodded. "Fine. I want you back here at 05:00. Understand?" Reno nodded. "That gives you another three hours. If you see Rude, tell him." Again, Reno nodded.

"Good." Without another word, T'seng turned and walked away.

"God, who the hell was that?" Shane asked as T'seng disappeared around a corner.

"That was T'seng, my boss," Reno told them. "Leader of the Turks."

"Huh. Didn't look like much." Shane lit up a cigarette. "Betcha any one of us 'ere coulda taken 'im."

"Yo, SHANE," Basvin called out. "You been listenin' to what our man 'ere's been tellin' ya? That man is a TURK. What's more, he's their leader. I'll betcha anythin' he knows more ways t' kill ya than you've had days t' live. The Turks are th' best, man. N' he's the best of the best. Got me?"

"Bas's right, man." Reno spun his mag-rod around in his fingers, careful not to depress the button that would charge the slim metal baton. "I've seen that guy in action, n' believe me, I wouldn't want to be on 'is bad side fer nothin'. Better'n me, n' I could probably take any one a ya." He dropped the end of his rod to the ground. "N' I ain't just shootin' my mouth off, either. S'why I'm a Turk."

"Ah, Reno, I don't know what yer talkin' about," Rina said, draping an arm around his shoulders. "Yer still just a Scavenger, n' t'me, that's all that matters."

"Hey, this is all well n' good, but ain't we suppose t' be lookin' fer someone?" Clarke spoke up. "We only got a couple a hours, n' the Sector 2 slums ain't small."

"Yer right, Clarke." Reno disentangled himself from Rina and sauntered over to the entrance. "Le's go."

* * *

An hour later, Reno stood in front of a huge locked door. "Sure this is it?" he asked dubiously, toying with a cigarette. "Looks kinda...cold."

"Sure I'm sure, man." Bas picked up a nearby rock and started pounding on the door. Reno was just about to suggest blowing the lock off instead, when the solid metal slab creaked open a scant half-inch.

"What d'ya want?" A man in his late twenties peered at them through the crack in the door.

"Scavengers, Dale, don't let 'em in," a second voice called from inside.

The door started to close, but stopped as it struck metal.

Reno angled his mag-rod so that it was up against the man's throat. "I think I can hit this here button before you can shut this door," he said, conversationally. His thumb loomed dangerously over the black handle. The man swallowed, then looked at the rest of the group.

"Better do what 'e says," Clarke commented, his eyes studiously glued to the edge of his knife. He carefully tested the edge against his thumb, then put it back, satisfied. "He ain't in th' best o' moods right now."

Eyeing the metal tip of the rod, Dale slowly backed away as the door opened wider.

"Thought you jes' might come t' yer senses," Basvin said, stepping inside. Clarke followed him, then Rina, Shane, and finaly, Reno himself.

"What?" A man seated over by a broken television set jumped to his feet, switchblade flashing in his hand. "Goddammit, yer a fucking Turkey-!"

Before the man could move, or even say another word, Bas stepped over and, without a word, planted his knife in the man's belly.

"First," he said evenly as the light in the man's eyes began to fade. "First, you offend us, the Scavengers. Second, you insult our dear friend here. Let me tell you something, sir." His eyes glinted as he twisted the knife cruelly. "We don't take well to insults, and Reno here is a very good friend of ours." He dropped the man's now lifeless body to the ground and wiped his blade off on a nearby rag. He reached down and pulled the ring off the dead man's finger and spat. "Damn Fangs," he said, tossing the ring to one side. "Don't know when to keep their mouths shut."

"Bas, you n' me are gonna hafta have a little talk, one o' these days," Clarke said, looking rather distastefully at the body. Somehow, however, he didn't seem too unpleased about the whole thing.

"Ahem."

They all spun around to where Rina stood patiently, tapping her foot against the worn floorboards.

"Jes' outta curiosity, Reno," she said, blowing smoke in their direction. "What is it exactly that we're lookin' for?"

"Not sure, babe," he told her, trusting Shane and Clarke to keep an eye on Dale. "Got somethin'?"

"Maybe. Dunno fer sure." She reached down and pulled away part of the worn, soiled carpet. "Maybe ya wanna take a look?"

"Yo, Bas, c'mere fer a sec."

"'Sup?" Bas walked over, pulling his blond hair back in a ponytail.

"I think Rina jes' mighta found our answer," Reno crowed. Underneath the rug was a small trap door. When opened, it dropped into a small room, big enough to fit up to eight full-grown people, or, as it was, only one.

"Kayli?" Clarke called over.

"The man hisself." Roughly, Reno reached down and hauled the man out into the light. "Devyn Kayli, you are under arrest for crimes against ShinRa Inc. I'd read ya yer rights," he added, "but according to ShinRa, ya don't got any."

"Fuck you, man." Devyn swatted Reno's hand away and spat in his face.

"Hey, now." Shane reached over and grabbed the man by the hair. "Le's have none of that. See him?" he asked, turning so that Kayli had a clear view of the dead Fang's body. "We ain't very appreciative when people insult our friends, n' Reno 'ere jes' happens t' be one of our closest. Got me?"

The man nodded, the hate in his eyes burning into Reno's. The Turk just smiled thinly at him, then punched him in the jaw.

"We're late," he said, straightening his suit as Kayli crumpled to the floor, out cold. "Le's get a move on."

* * *

"You're late." T'seng didn't even bother to turn around as heard his employee approach.

"Sorry, sir," Reno said. "But I felt the gain outweighed the loss, in this case."

"Oh?" T'seng turned around. He raised an eyebrow as he took in Kayli's unconscious form. "I see." He nodded to Rude, who stepped foreword to lift Kayli's body into the waiting helicopter. "Five minutes, then we leave." So saying, he turned and ducked into the chopper himself.

"Hey, thanks guys," Reno said, turning to his friends. "I owe ya one."

"Not a problem." Rina wrapped her arms around his neck in a quick embrace, then stepped back. "Guess yer headed back up, then, huh?"

"Yeah, I still got my job up there." His smile was acrid. "Gettin' paid fer what I do best."

"Don't ever ferget us, hey?" Shane clasped Reno's hand in his own. "We'll still be 'ere when that damn Plate thing comes down."

"Yeah, man. We ain't goin' nowhere." Clarke clapped him on the shoulder and grinned, somewhat sadly. "If ya ever come back down, ye'll always have a place with us. Before ya were a Turk, ya were a Scavenger. Ya always keep that in mind."

"Hey, ah- Reno, can I talk to ya fer a sec?" Bas asked him nervously.

"Yeah, sure. Hang on a sec, guys." Puzzled, Reno walked over to the heap of scrap metal where Bas waited.

"Ah- Reno, I jes' wanted t' tell ya somethin' before ya left." Bas shifted from foot to foot, something was obviously agitating him.

"What is it, man?" Reno watched his friend with growing perplexity.

"Ah- well," Bas fixed his eyes on a broken cabinet. "Ya never asked me how I knew where Kayli was," he said finaly.

"It never occurred t' me," Reno said. He felt something twist in the middle of his stomach. "But now that ya mention it- how did ya know?"

"Christ, Reno. I was the one that gave Kayli the information."

"What?" Reno stared at Bas, bewildered. "You did- what-?"

"I had some dirt on Shinra, and I sold it to Kayli. Then ya came down n' I found out ya was lookin' fer 'im." Bas's words grew harder to understand as he grew more and more nervous. "I jes' felt so guilty, I had t' do somethin'. So I figgered I'd help ya out a bit, take ya t' where Devyn was n' help ya bring 'im in. Thought ya might fergive me, or somethin'."

"Jesus." Reno raked his hand through his tangled red hair as he thought. "Shit, man, I fergive ya. Guess I can't really hold it against ya, seein' as I don't exactly love our Prez myself. But, jes' one question."

"Yeah?"
"Why? Why'd ya bother t' sell it? Whatcha needin' money fer so badly?"

"Ah-" Bas grinned sheepishly and stared at the chewed ground. "Well, see-" He paused. "I got me a daughter, now," he finaly blurted out.

"Oh, ho!" Reno exclaimed, raising an eyebrow. "A daughter? Way t' go, man! How'd that happen?"

"Ya remember Laina?"

"Yeah." Laina was a energetic little blond girl, talkative and not at all unattractive. Sharp as a tack, too. "Ya takin' it farther?"

"Ahh- I dunno." Basvin shoved his hands in his pockets. "I guess my main fear is that I won't be able to support them both. She's outta a job, n' with Lisa-"

"Gotcha." Reno reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. "Bas, man, before anything else, I'm a Scavenger, n' we look out fer our own." He handed the envelope to Bas, pressing it into his hand. "60,000 gil in there," he said. "One weeks pay." He turned aside Bas's protests with a wave of his hand. "I don't need the money fer nothin', I got enough on me t' survive 'til next week." He grinned roguishly. "Now you go and marry Laina, and give your daughter something good," he ordered. "I'll be seein' ya, man." Reno turned and walked towards the helicopter. Just before he got in, Bas' stopped him.

"Reno!" he shouted over the roar of the blades. "Thank you!"

Reno nodded to him, then ducked inside. He found himself unaccountably content.

"That was good work you did today," T'seng told him as they rose above the slums.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're more than capable," he continued, cleaning his gun. "I think you proved that today."

"I'm a Turk." He said nothing more. He didn't have to.

T'seng looked at him. He nodded once, shortly, and went back to cleaning his gun.

Silently, Reno stared out the window, watching the slums, his home, his past, his family, grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared beneath a layer of Mako produced haze.

"I am a Turk," he said again, so softly that no one heard.

"I am a Turk."