Nik had just opened his store, even though it was already late morning, He'd been busy; some of Lirves' men had come by again. It was only with a great deal of threats and promises on his part he had gotten rid of them. Now he had lost nearly four hours of business.
The trailer he used as his store was hung with an array of axes, swords, staves, gloves. Weapons were his trade, and he did fairly well. In the dank slums of Midgar, everyone needed something to fight with, even women and older children. Even that young flowergirl, Aeris Gainsborough, came by occasionally, and Nik couldn't conceive the notion of her hurting anybody. Of course, she had to know how to defend herself; he'd seen the Turks come by her home more than once. Oddly enough, they always left peacefully. It was always the same guy. Some tall, dark-haired creep with grey eyes…
It was then the door of the trailer opened. A tall, red-haired man with a swagger in his step strolled in, looking about as if interested in making a purchase. Nik sneered, knowing better; the redhead wore the hated blue uniform.
"What do you want?" Nik said without grace. The Turk gave up the pretense and ambled over. He had a haunted look in his eyes that even his mocking half-smile couldn't displace. Nik took note of this as the redhead replied.
"Nik Valline, the weapons merchant. I know about you. Your work is said to be the finest in the sector."
"So it's said," the merchant snapped, unmoved by flattery. "State your business."
The man's crooked smile grew wider. "I've asked around, and I was wondering if you sold a certain curved style of blade with a tapered edge. One of my friends has one, and I was considering purchasing one as well. My other sword's getting rusty."
Nik did not hesitate. To hesitate would reveal all. "I do. Three hundred gil."
The Turk leaned forward, putting his elbows on the counter. "Do you know my friend? His name is Lirves, and I haven't seen him for some time."
"No," Nik snarled, tensing.
"Lirves spoke very highly of you," the redhead went on. "He would hate for something to…happen…to you. But, altogether, I don't think the death of a weapons seller would trouble him overly. Do you?"
Nik started. He'd been studying the Turk, and he suddenly realized. He swallowed to conceal his excitement. "Your threats are wasted," he said shortly. "I don't know him."
"Oh, I'm sure you do." The redhead made a show of considering. "Yes. You're the only merchant in the city who sells these blades. Are you certain you don't remember?" There was an edge to the Turk's voice now.
Nik shook his head, one hand edging for the counter. "I'm afraid not. What did you say your name was?" He had to be sure.
"I didn't. But I'm sure you'll recognize it. You see, I'm Reno, the one you've been told to look out for." Abruptly the smile vanished, and the Turk leaned over the counter, holding an electrical rod an inch from his throat. "And I lied. I don't use a blade." The smile returned, by far more terrifying that the lack of expression.
Nik kept his eyes on the weapon. He knew what it was, and worse, what it could do. "Reno. Quick one, aren't you? I didn't have a chance."
Reno smirked. "None. Now, let's make this easy, so I won't have to hurt you too much." Electricity cracked the air in front of Nik's face.
"I'll answer your questions," he said hurriedly. "Yes, I know Lirves." Let the bastard think he was weakening.
"What does he want?"
"I don't know." Too late, Nik realized his mistake- the nearness of the nightstick made it increasingly difficult to think. "Wait! I-"
The nightstick scorched his throat; torrents of electricity jerked his body in to the back wall. Knife and sword points stabbed into his back, but that pain was nothing compared to the live, wracking agony of the nightstick.
Reno, half-standing on the counter, pulled the weapon away. As Nik tried to recover, the Turk gracefully swung the rest of the way over the counter to stand in front of the merchant. Nik backed up frantically, but there was nowhere to run.
"I'll ask again," Reno said softly, "then I'll have to hurt you. What does Lirves want?"
Nik, severely shaken, tried to collect his thoughts. "H-he doesn't explain his motives to me. But I think he works for somebody. Somebody who wants to get rid of the Turks."
Reno seemed to accept this answer. "AVALANCHE?" he mused aloud. "No, they've already left the city. Is this something new…a conspiracy?"
Nik made for the knife again, but without even looking up, Reno's hand snaked out and caught his wrist. "Don't try that. I'm not in the mood. How long have you known Lirves?"
"About two days."
Reno flipped the nightstick upside down and backhanded Nik across the face. "Don't lie to me. How long?"
"Two weeks," Nik said reluctantly, clutching his bleeding nose. The bastard was like a damn lie detector!
Reno nodded. "How did he come by that mechanical arm?"
Nik shook his head. "I don't know." As Reno raised his hand again he cried, "I'm not lying! He never told me, I swear it."
The Turk let his arm drop. "How did you meet?"
Nik shrugged. "I received a notice about a month ago telling me to make a certain kind of customized blade. It came with blueprints and instructions. I'm no blacksmith, so I forwarded the notice to my supplier. A few weeks later, Lirves came in for it. He told me a few things, made me swear to keep silent, and left."
"Two weeks," Reno muttered. He looked up. "What does he look like?" he demanded.
Nik eyed the nightstick warily, then decided to answer. "He's old, but young. I mean, he's got a young face and body, but his hair is iron-grey, and he speaks and acts as though he's had decades of experience."
"Grey hair and a young face," Reno repeated, frowning. The vague description didn't help much, but other than the arm, it was unlikely Lirves would have many distinctive features. Another dead end? No. He just wasn't asking the right questions, that was all.
Maybe a more direct approach would work. Reno leaned back against the counter, allowing Nik a bit more room to maneuver. The nightstick stayed out, though. "Tell you what, Nik. If you can answer me this one question, I'll let you live."
The merchant snorted, and Reno smiled. He noticed for the first time that Nik was a fairly young man, perhaps only five or ten years older than Reno himself.
"What's the question?" he snarled.
Reno almost laughed. "Don't be so eager. I just want to know what you and your friends plan to do with me, if you actually capture me. What's your motive?"
Nik didn't bother answering.
This time, Reno did laugh. He had already known Nik had no idea. "I thought so. I'm sorry, but I have no more use for you now." He booted Nik in the side, throwing the merchant to the cement floor. Nik grabbed for a knife, but couldn't reach before Reno stepped on his wrist with enough force to break it,
"You see," Reno said conversationally as he pressed the nightstick to the side of Nik's head, "I didn't get much sleep last night. Your buddies were busy trying to kill me. So you'll forgive me if I'm a little cranky."
Nik heard none of this, he heard nothing over his own screams. Far away, some rational part of his mind told him to make another grab for the knife, but he couldn't make his hand move, couldn't-
The pain stopped abruptly. Reno grabbed him by the shirt collar and lifted him to his feet. Nik swayed dizzily, wondering how in the world one ordinary-looking man could possess such bizarre strength. He was trying to gather courage to fight back, but Reno didn't give him a chance and hurled him into the back wall. The thin side of the trailer shuddered, and a loose plate of glass from the window above smashed to the floor. Pieces of glass rained in his hair. Nik shook his head and grasped the wall with one hand, trying to rise up. He couldn't make his eyes focus very well, but he could sort of see the tall figure of the Turk stride toward him. Nik tensed, then dove to the floor, grappling for the knife he'd left by Reno's feet. With a derisive smile, the Turk kicked it out of the way. Nik watched it skitter across the floor like a frightened mouse in the path of an oncoming cat.
Reno said nothing, didn't even provide a reprimand for Nik's last valiant try for the knife. He simply raised the nightstick and brought it down on the man's skull. Then again, and again, beating him until strings of blood flew in the air with each new blow.
Then it stopped.
"Well, well. Looks like we have a guest." The quality of Reno's voice had changed- it had become malicious, reeking of mad glee, swimming in the violence he had brought to life.
Nik managed to lift his head enough to see the trailer door swinging open. Standing in the doorway was Heather, his wife. A native of Wutai he'd met in his days as a soldier, she'd feared him before she'd loved him- and he'd loved that she feared him. Her vulnerable, frightened look had him in an instant, her petrified shrinking that brought a heady rush to every fiber of his being.
Heather looked exactly the same now, seven years later, coming into her husband's store to find him choking on his own blood. The red-haired demon loomed over him, arrogant and mocking. And Nik suddenly realized that this moment of horror would not turn into rebellious love, that there would be no waking from this nightmare.
But he could still choose how it would end.
Half-rising to his knees, Nik threw himself into Reno's side. Luckily for him, it was the same side Lirves had sliced open the night before. Reno landed hard on his shoulder, slamming his broken arm against the floor. The nightstick flew from his grasp.
"Call Lirves!" Nik ordered, flinging himself on the fallen Turk. "Heather! Tell him to send-" He broke off as Reno elbowed him in the face. Blood streamed again from his nose. Nik made a fist and tried to punch him, but Reno twisted aside and kneed him in the stomach. As Nik went down, Heather let out a scream and ran back outside.
Reno jumped up and scrambled for the nightstick. Nik grabbed at his legs and pulled him down. The Turk hit the floor with a satisfying crack.
Groping blindly along the floor, Nik encountered a long shard of glass. Gathering his strength, he raised his arm and brought down the glass with all his force. He caught Reno a glancing blow along the ribcage, but the Turk was already rolling away. Desperate, Nik kicked him in the side as hard as he could. Reno grunted and tried to crawl for the nightstick, but Nik tackled him and attacked again. This time, the blade struck home, slicing along Reno's stomach. Nik couldn't tell how badly the Turk was hurt, but Reno gave a choked gasp and lashed out with his fist, catching the merchant in the side of the head. Nik slid away, trying to catch his breath.
Reno paused as he slowly got to his feet. He seemed to be deliberating whether to go for the nightstick or attack Nik with his bare hands. Nik stared him down, promising silently that if the Turk turned his back he wouldn't survive. Reno shrugged.
"Okay. You got me. Without my weapon, I'm powerless." That crooked smile was beginning to emerge. "Right?"
Nik hesitated. Before he could move, Reno grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. Choking and gasping, Nik managed to bring up the glass and tear at the Turk's jugular, drawing blood. Reno dropped him sharply.
He was starting to move in again when the Turk kicked him in the jaw. Nik fell back for a moment, stunned, and Reno had the nightstick. He stepped toward the merchant, green eyes burning hatred. And anticipation.
Nik lay, breathing hard, sprawled against the wall. He saw the look of cruel pleasure pass across the Turk's face, and he knew, he knew he had no chance. Still, he made one last, desperate try. He lunged for Reno, hoping to sever the artery pulsing behind the heel. With the killer disabled, he might be able to make a run for it…
Reno smiled and stepped aside. Nik landed on his stomach, the somewhat pitiful lunge wasted. He heard laughter above him.
"Oh, you're a bright one," Reno sneered. "You think you can take me out when all of those gunmen hardly scratched me?" He shook his head, the smile slowly vanishing. "Don't get me wrong. Generally, I'm a nice guy." The nightstick switched on. "Just not recently."
Nik fingered the splinter in his hand. He thought of Heather, of their young children. He thought of the lives he'd taken in the war.
"Burn in hell," he whispered, and plunged the shard of glass into his own throat. He was dead in seconds.
~
A starving man denied food and drink. A miser robbed. A new mother who finds her baby has died in her arms.
This was Reno's world. He had been denied the pleasure of causing another pain. He screamed, he swore, he kicked the lifeless body aside. There was a slight smirk on the dead face, as though Nik knew he had the last laugh. It was all the more infuriating.
"Fucker!" Reno shrieked, kicking Nik again. "Stupid, motherfucking-" Unable to force anymore words out, he fell to his knees on the floor, panting, hating, hating…
After a time, Reno raised his head. Cold logic had taken over, and he was in control once more. Rising to his feet, he glanced around the shop.
Broken glass littered the floor from the smashed window. A rack of weapons had topped over and knives, spears, and swords were scatted everywhere. There was a good deal of blood coating the floor, congealing on the wooden boards. And the body ruled over it all, smirking, mocking, laughing-
With a yell of pure frustration, Reno turned away and forced himself to walk toward the door. It was easier when he couldn't see that arrogant grin. Once outside the door, his head cleared a bit. He looked down at himself and saw that his uniform- not so clean at the start- was splattered with blood. Wondering, he put a hand to his face and felt the sticky wetness. His hair was stiff with it.
What the hell. He'd given the guy what for anyway.
He suddenly remembered the woman, backing away in fear and horror. What was it Nik had said to her? It was difficult to remember, but it had been important…
Lirves. Call Lirves!
"Son of a bitch!" Reno yelled aloud. Had she contacted him yet? Maybe he could find her and silence her first-
Someone grabbed him roughly by the collar and threw him to the ground. Coughing on the dirt that rose up from the street when he landed, Reno struggled to focus. Standing over him were three large men.
Reno gave up trying to stand- they'd just knock him down again, anyway- and settled himself quite comfortably on the ground. He smiled up at them charmingly. "Top of the morning to you, gentlemen."
One, a sandy-brown haired brute with a scowl, reached for him, but a slightly older man with a salt-and-pepper goatee pushed him back. "Don't be stupid. We aren't supposed to kill him."
The sandy-haired man grimaced. "I don't care what we're supposed to do. I'm gonna rip him apart."
The third one, a tall, dark-haired man, cracked his knuckles. When he spoke, though, he sounded calm, almost relaxed. "Check for Nik, Darryn."
"Don't bother," Reno interrupted placidly from his position on the ground. "I'm sure he's busy merging with the Lifestream about now." His "talk" with Hojo had come back to him and he couldn't help smiling.
"Pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?" the dark-haired man said quietly. "Check it out, Darryn."
The sandy-haired man obeyed, stepping into the shop. After a few seconds he ran back out, one hand over his mouth. He dashed over to the curb and threw up.
Reno snorted. "Wimp."
The one with the goatee glowered at Reno, but third guy didn't seem to hear. He just stood there, staring off into the distance. It was making Reno uneasy. He had immediately dismissed the other two guys as no threat. But this one seemed to know what he was doing. After a few seconds, he called Darryn back over.
"Lot of blood," Darryn muttered, shooting a glare at Reno while wiping a hand over his mouth.
"Little shithead!" In a flash, the goateed man had a handgun out, cocking it and aiming it for Reno. "I'm gonna blow your brains out!"
"Luke," the dark-haired man began warningly, but it was too late.
As the shot ran out, Reno pitched to the side, barely avoiding the bullet. Balancing himself with his good arm, he swept out his leg and tripped Luke. As he fell, Reno caught the gun that flew out of his hands. Luke hit the pavement hard.
A single bullet finished him. Before Reno could switch gears, the dark-haired man fisted him once in the jaw, making Reno's teeth clack together. He bit his tongue and tasted blood.
Dazed, he let himself fall, but kept a deathgrip on the gun. He had just enough sense to roll out of the way as his opponent's boot came thundering down. Reno brought the gun up, but- Why can't I find the trigger?- fumbled it in his haste. The weapon fell to the ground beside him. The man above him kicked it away.
Reno began to realize he was in trouble. He was confused and a little dizzy, and he couldn't seem to think of a rational way to kill his opponent and escape. Those were his goals, right? Kill. Escape. But his mind couldn't seem to put the two together.
Shit, why couldn't he think? A couple of hits to the head didn't do this to Reno the Turk. It took something like a full training session with Wat to make him lose it like this.
But Wat's here don't you remember you saw him just a few days ago and he ran away he was scared…
Kill. Escape.
Was he supposed to do one, or both? Was there even an in-between anymore?
KILLESCAPE
He felt for his nightstick, strapped to his belt. He smiled weakly at the dark-haired man and struck.
The dark-haired man, the one Reno'd assumed knew what he was doing, began shaking and jerking with the currant. His mouth was open to scream, but no sound emerged.
It made no difference whether they were tough or not- they were all the same when under the nightstick.
Kill.
A bullet zinged past his shoulder and Reno jerked away, letting go of the dark-haired man for a moment. His opponent fell limply to the street, breathing in great, gasping, desperate breaths. Not so tough.
Darryn- how had Reno managed to forget about him?- had found the gun and had it trained on him. The guy's face was red; he was screaming incoherently. He was firing wildly, with no real purpose.
Reno looked around for cover and found none.
Escape.
He caught sight of the dark-haired man crumbled semi-conscious on the ground. Quickly he crawled toward him and propped him up as a sort of human shield.
He was filled with lead almost immediately. Reno, tense and now feeling somewhat giddy, wanted to laugh. This dude was gonna be Swiss cheese. At least he was a big guy.
Although it seemed like hours, it was only a few seconds before Darryn's gun clicked empty. He looked down at it, swore, and threw the gun aside.
There ya go, buddy. Now you're screwed.
Reno slid out from under the lead-filled carcass. He had a little trouble getting to his feet; the world seemed to be spinning. He held the nightstick out as if for a present.
"Would you care for a taste, Darryn, my good man?"
Apparently he didn't. Darryn stared for a moment, then turned and ran.
Reno sighed and slumped to the ground. He realized sticky wetness was making his uniform stick to him. It finally occurred to him that maybe not all the blood on him was Nik's.
Crawling, he somehow made it to the side of the weapon store trailer. Leaning against it, he closed his eyes. Just a few seconds to gather his strength.
Why were the options always kill and run? He was so tired of running, and killing was starting to lose its thrill, too. It as always the same…ever since Death Row, all the same…
"Wake up, you son of a bitch."
Reno opened his eyes to look up at the barrel of a shotgun, held in the trembling hands of Heather Valline. She had tears running from her eyes, and her already pale skin was so white it was papery, but she held it as though she knew how to use it.
"Hey, baby," Reno said languidly, starting to close his eyes again. He was too tired to bother moving. If blowing his head off would make her feel better, so be it.
The tip of the gun tilted his chin up. Reno opened his eyes a crack to see her jerk her head toward the two dead bodies.
"You killed them. You killed my husband too, didn't you." There was, crazy as it seemed, a faint, questioning bit of hope in her tone. She knew he wasn't alive, but there was a chance. There was always a chance.
"I don't remember," Reno muttered. "Why don't you go in the store and check?"
Her mouth worked, but she couldn't speak. At last, her trembling got so bad the shotgun slipped from her grasp and clattered at her feet. Miracle of miracles, it didn't go off.
Reno watched dully as she backed away, both hands pressed to her mouth. "Oh, God!" she cried raggedly. "You monster! You don't even care!"
Would it make you feel any better to know, lady, that your husband killed himself, not me? I was going to, but I didn't really get the chance. Don't you feel so much better that it wasn't me?
"You don't even care!"
He sighed and, using the wall for support, tried to get to his feet. He staggered and nearly fell, but managed it.
"It was his fault for getting involved with the wrong people," he told her simply. "I'm sure he knew that perfectly well."
She wouldn't stop crying. How was he supposed to rest with some chick going hysterical practically in his ear? Reno sighed again, louder this time. Stepping over the shotgun, he started walking.
Escape.
He wouldn't mind a nice stiff drink right then. Hell, he wouldn't mind a couple. As he passed Heather Valline, he thought suddenly of Elena. What if some of Lirves' men found her alone?
More than a couple would do nicely.
He was halfway up the street when he collapsed.
~A note from the author~
Yes, this was a quicker update. Nice change, hm? I worked really hard on this chapter- let me know what you think!
~Lila