Chapter 4
A thick cloud of exhaust filled the air as a motorcycle darted down an open stretch of road. It was black and silver, sleek with a matte paint job and a quick hotwiring job that pointed to the fact that the rider probably wasn't its owner. Reno leaned across the drag bars, keeping his head down as much as possible as he shot down the deserted street.
Tires churned against stained pavement that was broken here and there in patches, and Reno leaned sharply to the left to bring the bike bearing hard towards a long run of shadows stretching out beckoningly from the upcoming tunnel. A quick glance in the rear-view mirror showed no sign of Valentine, but he didn't dare slow down even a little.
No time to think about hitting the high beams as he shot into the darkness; it wasn't worth giving away his position that easily. He was confidant that his better than average night vision would see him through regardless. As the walls and roof closed in above him, he knew he had to concentrate on the road ahead to get out again, but it was against all his instincts not to scan everywhere. Granted, he couldn't hear anything to indicate pursuit, but it was only a matter or time.
What bothered him the most was that he didn't have a clue in hell what was going on. The simple truth was that he'd crept into Valentine's house expecting little or at least brief resistance, some answers, and some pointed violence. Instead he'd gotten… this.
The sound of pebbles thrown up by the wheels sent a fresh wave of cold uncertainty sweeping through him, and he gritted his teeth somewhat in anger and sheer concentration. Halfway out. He swerved violently to the right again to avoid a chunk of collapsed cement. No, he didn't like this at all.
Why the hell did Valentine propose a duel out here anyway? It was like Reno had mortally insulted him. Well, the vampire jokes didn't really count. Those were just Reno's way of convincing himself that he wasn't afraid. And trying to kill Valentine a couple of times didn't really count as a motive either; he supposed enough people in the history of the gunman's life had tried before. This was… really, really stupid. And yet, here they both were, each bent on being the only one to reach the finish line.
Most unnervingly he didn't know where Valentine had gone. As unsettling as that was Reno trusted he'd find the former-AVALANCHE member ready and waiting sooner rather than later. After all, this had been Valentine's game from the very beginning, damn him. Nothing made sense here. Here he was, having walked into a shootout with the most feared gunman in Midgar with no real plan. It was completely unlike him, but it wasn't exactly like Valentine had given him an alternative. Still, it was almost like something was driving him forward towards this confrontation, hoping both of them would wind up dead…
No, the more he tried to grasp the idea, the more it slipped away. Anyway, no time to worry about that. He could see the end of the tunnel now, the sky that was slowly growing lighter and lighter almost like a home-free beacon in the distance.
Suddenly a dull thud reverberated through the tunnel. Reno gripped the handle a little more tightly, but in the dark he could see nothing behind him. Still, he couldn't hear anything… No, there was the sound of another motorcycle. It seemed muffled, though, as though far away, or obscured by something. What in the seven hells was Valentine up to now? If he didn't know any better, he'd almost have said that Valentine was on the roof of the tunnel… Shit. He was, wasn't he? Dammitdammitdammitdammit.
It was too late to turn back now, and in the narrow tunnel there wasn't room anyway. Reno would have to stop to change direction, and Valentine would know instantly. He'd probably use the same insane short cut he'd found to get up there to head him off anyway. No, there was nothing for it but to keep going.
Only two choices presented themselves. To slow down or speed up? If he slowed down and Valentine indeed pulled what he believed he was going to, then he'd have him in full view, although there was no way he'd be able to keep out of sight that way. If he took a risk and gave it as much speed as he could, he might be able to find a way to catch Valentine out by losing him, although until he did he'd be completely open to all attacks from the rear. Well, either way, it was going to be a last minute decision. The entrance loomed, and Reno made an instant choice.
In that split second period he pulled sharply on the brakes. Just in time, a dark shape trained by a cape that billowed out behind it shot forward and seemed to fly through the sky for a moment. The second bike landed with a crunch on the pavement and Valentine sped off into the dark. Still just in the edge of the shadows, Reno grinned ferally before tightening his hand around the clutch. Then he was off in pursuit, giving it as much speed as he could.
The roar of the engines coming alive again caused Valentine to look back, and all Reno could see was the cold glitter of the man's red eyes. Reno didn't think, didn't even have to really register their change in positions before his hands were reacting for him. One hand still on the handle for steering, the other darted quickly to his jacket where his gun lay in wait. He whipped it forwards and let off four shots in quick succession.
Valentine's reflexes were at least as quick as his, however, and he wove to the right and then the left again at the first sound of gunfire. Three bullets hit only pavement, and the fourth managed only to trace a scratch across the back of the other stolen, dark green bike.
Reno's eyes narrowed as he saw his quarry escaping. The ages-old pale scars under each eye outlined the cold, meticulously calculating look that haunted his face. There was a pattern in Valentine's dodging, and he could pick it out and adapt it to get a better shot, he knew. Unconsciously, he'd already accounted for the back and forth turns his enemy was employing to throw him off. Also, Valentine's trick was losing him speed, and slowly but steadily Reno was gaining ground.
He took aim again, and felt the gun crack as he pulled down on the trigger. As fast as he could, he let off another two quick, successive shots. He'd reloaded before coming down here, of course, and having learned from his previous mistake he'd made sure he had another cartridge easily on hand.
Again, as before, at the sound of the first shot Valentine instantly changed his movement, going straight off to the right and completely avoiding all three shots entirely. Reno's usually cold anger was beginning to gain heat. His face darkened, and he too veered off to the right to follow Valentine's path. It was a deadly game of cat and mouse, alright, and he would not be the one to lose.
Just as he was lining up the next shot, however, Valentine pulled a sharp, almost ninety degree left, effectively disappearing from Reno's sight as well as his range. Never letting his surprise throw him off, Reno continued down the trail Valentine had taken, scanning continually to the left for wherever the man had vanished to.
If he hadn't been watching closely, he would have missed it entirely. It was a mostly blocked off-ramp, but a section of the fallen masonry had crumbled away thanks to time and bad weather, leaving a small space just big enough for the two of them to get by. Taking a deep breath, Reno ducked down as low as he could, and pulled to the left.
He felt the side of the bike grind against something, but in a moment it was free again. Anyway, it wasn't like it was his bike or anything. High above, the sky was beginning to show the first streaks of gold and pale rose as dawn crept ever closer. The chill air of the very early morning crept into everything, except the two riders on the abandoned highway. Reno, focused entirely on finding the dark man ahead of him somewhere, never noticed. His red hair stood out against the pale sky and the dark road, and the flames inside him leaped a little higher.
He felt exhilarated, and he felt very much alive; he also felt frustration and fear warring for his notice. He simply ignored them all. Adding a little more speed, he continued warily on.
This way would eventually lead back to the highway, he knew. It was only a detour for Valentine, a desperate measure to gain some distance that would undoubtedly fail. He smiled a little, ironically, knowing that it was probably exactly what he would have done had he taken the lead.
This was part of the old highway that had been proposed to link Midgar with the rest of the world, starting with Kalm, but as Shinra had grown more powerful eventually all efforts in the road's direction had fallen away. Reeve had talked about continuing it, he knew, and it was currently under consideration, but it was in such a state of disrepair after a decade of neglect that it would have to be entirely scrapped and started over from the beginning. He'd heard that on their escape from Midgar, Strife and company had gone this way. Pity it hadn't killed them, really.
This section of road was no different from the rest of it, perhaps worse. Everywhere were piles of junk: steel beams for construction, streetlights on odd angles or fallen entirely, and large slabs of concrete for the siding. Reno wove in and out of them, knowing all the while that Valentine was using every moment of this to his benefit. What he needed now was some way to turn the tables on the gunner, something that would once again put him right behind Valentine.
A Turk's eye for detail was what picked out the ramp to the left. Some workers long ago had probably used it to put up side panels, but yes, it would serve his purpose. All deadly alertness, Reno eased into the clutch to give the bike enough speed to top the ramp. His lips twitched into a hint of a smile. He would turn Valentine's own trick back on him, and he'd do it with flare.
It was one quick fluid shot, a forward and up movement, and as the front wheel cleared the top of the ramp, Reno felt his blood race. As he went up and over he searched with his eyes for Valentine. He couldn't be too far ahead, not in here.
It took only a few seconds, but Reno could've sworn that it felt a hell of a lot longer. He turned slightly to try to see everywhere as the bike began its descent, and he finally caught sight of the gunner. He was down below the ramp, casually sitting there and watching Reno go over the top coolly and disinterestedly as if he were watching grass grow. The slight smirk on Reno's face was gone as he touched down, and he instantly jammed down on the clutch. The sudden burst of speed almost threw him off, but he didn't care at this point.
Oh. Shit. Well, apparently he wasn't the only one who was good at ripping off the tricks of others. At least the road was somewhat clearer here, he thought as he heard Valentine kick start his bike again. Trying to put as much distance between the two of them as he could, his hands tightened around the handles until his knuckles were white.
Hair whipping our behind him, he tore forwards with as much speed as the bike would give him. Just ahead he could see where the highway workers had given up, and had built a haphazard link back to the main road to make it easier to get the trucks and mixers back up. Throwing everything he had into it, Reno made a last ditch attempt for a way out.
He took the path at full speed, managing to effectively launch himself up into the air again. The sound of Valentine closing the distance triggered something at the back of his head.
He didn't want to lose this. He didn't want to leave Merdan just another dead body that nobody gave a shit about. He didn't want to die not knowing where Rude and Elena were or what had happened to them. He remembered in a quick flash of lights propping up the dead kid that had been his friend on a bench three blocks away from his apartment. He remembered calling an ambulance from an anonymous pay phone before disappearing into the dark to go find Dale at the club. He'd known that no one would say anything about earlier; everyone had their own secrets to hide after all.
Reno's jaw tightened, and the anger flared even more. God fucking damn! Merdan had been a good kid! He deserved a lot better than the pothole grave he was almost certain to find. His family might receive a notice of his death, but that was only a maybe.
He remembered the kid laughing, and he remembered him bleeding. And with that last memory, he lashed out. With what was almost a growl, he shouldered the bike to his left so that it hit the pavement in the direction from which he'd come. He didn't stop, however. He used the sudden decrease in speed to continue the turn he'd started in midair. Coming full circle he was just in time to see Valentine roar out and start away in front of him. Once again Reno had the advantage, but it was no comfort.
Anger and hatred burning through him, he followed.
The end of the highway was not too much further ahead, Reno knew. He reached for his gun again. In truth, he preferred the EMR for any type of combat, but he had long ago learned the advantages of versatility. Anything else could kill you.
Valentine swerved right again, and Reno didn't have time to follow, or even really wonder before it became clear what the gunman was trying to do. Neither did he have time to slow down.
Valentine was pulling a curve exactly like Reno had just done, but he was doing it at full speed. Everything in Reno said that he shouldn't be able to make it, as the bike screeched around leaving dark skid marks on the pavement.
And yet, somehow, he did make it. Reno never really understood how, only that an incredible amount of raw skill was involved. All he saw was Valentine bearing down on him, gun out, the distance between them lessening each millisecond that ticked by. Running on adrenaline alone, Reno didn't really feel the first bullet rip along the side of his right arm. He did the only thing he could think of. He dropped.
Throwing his shoulder as far to the right as he could without the bike dropping completely, he kicked away from it. He hit the pavement at high speed, and he felt his sleeve ripped to tatters and his arm being shredded along with it. He only managed to get his leg clear just in time while the bike spun out of control thanks to the sudden move from its former ride. It skittered along the pavement, throwing sparks everywhere before colliding with the nearest wall in a sort of miniature explosion of concrete and sparks.
Reno never let himself slow down, never let himself feel the pain all down his arm. All he knew was that Valentine was also off his bike, running his way. He rolled up onto his left foot, gun coming out in a sharp upward arc. The next thing he knew, he was standing, facing Valentine, each one's gun pointed directly at the head of the other.
There was silence for a moment, and Reno watched somewhat dizzily as Valentine just stood, the stoic, aloof expression never leaving his face. He considered briefly just pulling the trigger, but even now he knew that should he manage to even pull it, he too would be dead. Well, perhaps this was it then, but he had a question first. He felt the anger flare up again, as though in response to his noticing it, and he glared furiously at the dark man he faced. His eyes burned accusingly into Valentine's.
"Why?"
Valentine's face creased into the most light of frowns, but he did not answer. The silence seemed to further anger Reno, and he felt all his frustration and rage boiling to the surface.
"Son of a bitch, why did you kill him?" His shout echoed through the once again silent concrete forest.
Valentine's incomprehension showed plainly on his face now.
"…Who?"
The earliest morning breeze ruffled Reno's hair. It was rather dishevelled, the usually sloppy ponytail even worse than normal. However, there was nothing comical about the expression on his face. Lip curled back, he practically spat at the tall gunner.
"Merdan, bastard! The kid you shot on my fucking doorstep!" And then through clenched teeth, "A friend of mine that I got to watch die, thanks so much for that."
Valentine's crimson eyes widened a fraction, the first true sign of surprise or emotion he'd yet shown. He stared straight at Reno. He wasn't in great shape either, Reno noticed for the first time. It looked as though he'd managed to rip his right leg open somewhere along the way, probably down on the off-ramp among all the debris. Still, it looked as though he could've gone on for another very long time. There wasn't a trace of weariness to be seen.
Reno also noticed that the older man still seemed young almost to a fault, no older than himself certainly although much different. He personally knew it wasn't true, but looking the man in the eye now, if he hadn't read those files oh so long ago he would never have believed it.
To Reno's utter surprise, Valentine slowly lowered his gun. His arm dropped almost involuntarily, and his eyes never left Reno's, his already pale face losing whatever color it had left. The gun hung by his side, although the barrel of Reno's remained determinedly pointed between his eyes.
"I… do not know what you're talking about."
The words struck Reno like a blow.
"You're lying!"
Valentine carefully shook his head, trying to show his denial without causing the other to pull the trigger. Still not lowering the gun, Reno cast about frantically for an answer.
"Even if that were true… and I'm sure as hell not saying it is, why the hell would you be out here trying to shoot me?" His anger was directed less at Valentine now, and more at the world in general for putting him here.
"…It was about a week ago." Valentine's voice was quiet, and Reno listened with unnatural intensity. "Someone tried to kill me."
"Oh, that explains everything!" Reno snarled, throwing out his free hand. "Since you used to be a member of AVALANCHE, obviously the only person who would want to kill you is an ex-Turk!"
Again, Valentine just shook his head.
"My… mechanical arm took the hit." He obviously did not want to speak, and his long dark hair fell across his face, hiding whatever expression might have been there. He forced himself to continue. "I also received a letter that day, but it is not the reason. When I was making repairs, I extracted the bullet lodged in the circuitry. It was… a very special kind of bullet."
Reno did not say anything, but a dark fear stirred itself at the back of his mind. Vincent picked up again, his voice still low and monotone.
"I knew the kind, but I made inquiries to be certain it was not a forgery. It was as I had thought." Slowly, with his metal arm, he reached into the side of his belt. Reno tensed, but he allowed himself to see whatever it was Valentine wanted to show him.
Equally slowly, the gunner extracted a small object, obviously a bullet. He held it up in the light so Reno could see it. Wordlessly, he held it out for Reno to take, and then dropped it into Reno's other hand when he opened it.
Reno studied it carefully, his face a fairly good imitation of Vincent's own mask.
There was no doubting what Vincent had already stated; the bullet was unmistakably that of a Turk. The thin gold stripe running down it gave it away easily and the weight was right. But… it was impossible. No one had bullets like these except the Turks. They had been the only ones who were allowed to use them while the group had still been together, and after they'd disbanded they had each taken five of them as a sort of reminder. Finally lowering his own gun, Reno looked back up.
Before he could speak, however, a muted sound of metal against metal on the ramp up above caused both heads to snap up at the same instant, just in time to see something topple over and fall forwards almost directly above them. Vincent reacted the fastest, turning towards the object almost faster than the eye could follow although Reno was there a second later. The shape fell heavily into the surprised Vincent's outstretched arms, between the two of them. They both looked down uncomprehendingly into the face of a young boy.