Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Any of
'em.
AN: Lesse, its winter break, I felt like trying to write, I wanted to write Reno stories, I wrote a whole bunch but this was the only one that was tollerable , as in that I could stand to post. Age for this one is probably 14 or 15, but everyones welcome to choose their own age. I'm sorry if this somehow goes against the game, if it does put it in a review and I'll try to fix it in a later thingy. BEWARE I wrote this without spell check, I lost M-soft Word. Geez, this things almost as long as the story.
Reno- What Makes a Man: Guilt
"But dear old Auntie Woofy, wouldn't, I fear, very much care for me now." -Max, Halloween is Grinch Night
The blue green eyes didn't hold hate. They didn't hold pain, or sadness, or betrayl. They weren't light or dark or smiling or even afraid. They were just eyes; blank, glossy, eyes. In fact, they most closely resembled the dirty shards of beer bottles littered across the alley.
The body lay sprawled back, limbs spread around it, the hands still jerking slightly. Blood leaked from its lips and from its side, adding a new shade to the filth below it.
It had been a boy once, a lean young boy with dark blond hair and blue green eyes that some might have said looked sad, but never really contained any emotion at all. And now it was nothing. Now it was just dead, just another lifeless body spread eagle on the pavement. There wasn't even a chalk outline.
And still, Reno stared into its eyes. Searching for the hate and pain and humanity that was supposed to be there. That everyone had always told him would be there. Looking for one thing that might seperate this body before him for the stiffening corpse of a rabid dog.
And he could find nothing.
"Don't you want me to know that you hate me?" his voice was soft, almost confused, slightly whimsical. "Ah, Cat, did't you want to be something? Shouldn't you look all peaceful? Or happy? Or, like, anything at all?" He nudged the body, watching it shift ever so slightly. "Shouldn't I see some sign of pain?" He stood, turned once, hands shoved deep into his pockets then sat back down.
It wasn't that he had never seen death before. It wasn't that he had never killed, or hurt, or betrayed before. It was that this was the first time he had murdered someone he knew, someone he liked. It was that this was the first time he had some real connection to the hit, other than hate or disgust. This was the first time he was forced to look at the person he had murdered as a person, as opposed to simply the means to his success. He had known this boy. He knew where to find him, knew his name, knew that he liked to sing cheesy oldies along with the radio.
He knew his favorite song.
He knew what had happened to his mother.
This was a friend, lying there defeated in the dirt, dead blood sliding across the ground, waiting to be eaten by stray cats and straving children.
He looked into its face one last time. Wanting this corpse to condemn him with its dusty dead eyes. Wanting it to hate him so he didn't have to hate himself. "Tell me, Cat," he nudged the body again, and the head lolled bonelessly, "tell me, is it better to be killed by a friend or a foe?"
The eyes remained blank. The hands had stopped twitching.
"Thats what I thought." He stood, kicked the dust off his shoes and walked easily back to Shinra headquarters.
It was death and that was all there was and it didn't even matter. Not now.
AN: Lesse, its winter break, I felt like trying to write, I wanted to write Reno stories, I wrote a whole bunch but this was the only one that was tollerable , as in that I could stand to post. Age for this one is probably 14 or 15, but everyones welcome to choose their own age. I'm sorry if this somehow goes against the game, if it does put it in a review and I'll try to fix it in a later thingy. BEWARE I wrote this without spell check, I lost M-soft Word. Geez, this things almost as long as the story.
"But dear old Auntie Woofy, wouldn't, I fear, very much care for me now." -Max, Halloween is Grinch Night
The blue green eyes didn't hold hate. They didn't hold pain, or sadness, or betrayl. They weren't light or dark or smiling or even afraid. They were just eyes; blank, glossy, eyes. In fact, they most closely resembled the dirty shards of beer bottles littered across the alley.
The body lay sprawled back, limbs spread around it, the hands still jerking slightly. Blood leaked from its lips and from its side, adding a new shade to the filth below it.
It had been a boy once, a lean young boy with dark blond hair and blue green eyes that some might have said looked sad, but never really contained any emotion at all. And now it was nothing. Now it was just dead, just another lifeless body spread eagle on the pavement. There wasn't even a chalk outline.
And still, Reno stared into its eyes. Searching for the hate and pain and humanity that was supposed to be there. That everyone had always told him would be there. Looking for one thing that might seperate this body before him for the stiffening corpse of a rabid dog.
And he could find nothing.
"Don't you want me to know that you hate me?" his voice was soft, almost confused, slightly whimsical. "Ah, Cat, did't you want to be something? Shouldn't you look all peaceful? Or happy? Or, like, anything at all?" He nudged the body, watching it shift ever so slightly. "Shouldn't I see some sign of pain?" He stood, turned once, hands shoved deep into his pockets then sat back down.
It wasn't that he had never seen death before. It wasn't that he had never killed, or hurt, or betrayed before. It was that this was the first time he had murdered someone he knew, someone he liked. It was that this was the first time he had some real connection to the hit, other than hate or disgust. This was the first time he was forced to look at the person he had murdered as a person, as opposed to simply the means to his success. He had known this boy. He knew where to find him, knew his name, knew that he liked to sing cheesy oldies along with the radio.
He knew his favorite song.
He knew what had happened to his mother.
This was a friend, lying there defeated in the dirt, dead blood sliding across the ground, waiting to be eaten by stray cats and straving children.
He looked into its face one last time. Wanting this corpse to condemn him with its dusty dead eyes. Wanting it to hate him so he didn't have to hate himself. "Tell me, Cat," he nudged the body again, and the head lolled bonelessly, "tell me, is it better to be killed by a friend or a foe?"
The eyes remained blank. The hands had stopped twitching.
"Thats what I thought." He stood, kicked the dust off his shoes and walked easily back to Shinra headquarters.
It was death and that was all there was and it didn't even matter. Not now.
