By Ktrenal
Chapter Six - Civilisation At Last
There were butterflies out here too, white and yellow ones that fluttered randomly around the small yellow flowers that specked the green of the long, rather coarse grass; this wasn't the verdant pasture of flat grasslands elsewhere on the continent, but not the barren gorse of mountains either. These were the foothills preceding the mountain range, and so the landscape was a little windswept, rough and yet brimming with its own life. Butterflies, especially.
It had turned into a nice day too, with the sun beaming down at him like a big golden face in the sky. Or something. Really, all this nature and such was beginning to get on his nerves. He was a city guy at heart, and while he appreciated pretty scenery as much as the next man, sometimes, he felt he belonged on the streets rather than walking casually along a dusty cart track at the base of a mountain range, trudging towards who knew what. 'Being one with nature' was all very well, but there was only so much walking and pretty scenery a guy could take.
Life may in fact have been better before Shinra, although that was a matter he'd have to consider a little longer, but traveling certainly wasn't. It was long, monotonous and boring, not to mention tiring. Reno hadn't actually had to walk this far in a very long time, and it was proving a little bit of a strain on his muscles; his light frame didn't exactly make him particularly muscular, and so a short sprint was more his style, rather than a long, drawn-out hike like this. He was beginning to wish that his collection of materia included a Chocobo Lure. Chocobos had to exist here after all.
As he continued along the road, walking in one of the shallow trenches caused by the passing of many wheels, he whistled idly, and somewhat tunelessly, simply to have a sound to keep him company. After a little while however, he stopped, catching the slightest of sounds penetrating the whistling. It was a rumbling, creaking noise, punctuated with the jingle of metal and the thud of heavy objects against the hard soil of the road.
Reno stopped walking, and jumped up onto the raised band of grass between the two tracks, looking around for the source of the sound, which he quickly determined was approaching him from behind. As he turned to face it, it pulled up over the crest of the gently rolling hill, revealing itself to be a heavy wooden cart, reinforced with metal braces, and pulled by an impressive looking team of four chocobos; the cargo in the back of the cart seemed heavy enough to warrant four of the birds, massive bales of hay stacked much higher than the wooden sides of the cart itself.
At the front, holding the reins of the four chocobos was a man that instantly reminded Reno of Choco Billy; scruffy blue overalls and a large straw hat shielding the face of the man from the bright sunshine. He seemed to be chewing thoughtfully on a piece of straw, and evidently half asleep; this road had been quiet thus far for Reno, and so it seemed perhaps that it was a peaceful journey from wherever it came from to wherever it went.
"Hey," the young red-head greeted casually, moving out of the road as the chocobos approached; he didn't particularly feel like being squashed by a cart. The squashed look really didn't suit him after all, and if he was going to die he intended to do so with style. Being splatted like roadkill was not, therefore, even close to the top of the metaphorical list of ways to die.
The man seemed to wake up at the sound of Reno's voice, looking up in surprise and gazing around for the source of the greeting. He quickly noticed the Turk, and pulled the cart to a halt, flicking the brim of his straw hat up a little so that it no longer obscured his eyes. He scrutinised Reno, eyeing him suspiciously, and yet appraisingly, as if to determine his worth, if he had any. "What d'ye want youngun'?"
"A ride would be nice," Reno replied instantly, and then paused to rethink his wording a little. "That is, if you have room. I've been walking for hours. If not, can you tell me how far to the nearest town?" The man seemed not exactly old, but gruff and wizened, as if he'd been out in the sun too long and had shriveled up like a raisin. His eyes though were alert and intelligent, sparkling with the twinkle of a quick wit and ready mind. Not the average inbred farmer type.
"Nearest town's Darton, three hours as the chocobo walks. Not a trip ye'll be wantin' to make on foot, 'specially if ye've been walkin' a while a'ready. So hop on, I don't mind none," the man said, leaning over to offer a hand up onto the cart. When Reno accepted, he pulled the lighter man up into the seat next to him, and urged the chocobos forwards once again.
For Reno's part, he was feeling fairly pleased with himself, although he imagined the farmer would've offered him a ride anyway. That was the nature of farmers driving carts through lonely countryside after all. Offering rides to scrawny, black clad young men bearing weapons. On reflection, Reno considered that he probably had a certain highwayman appearance, and it was possible that his benefactor was simply behaving in an amicable manner for the moment, until he could turn his passenger over to the local law enforcement.
Of course, the Turk wasn't about to fall for that trick again, and remained wary, although it seemed from the start that the man's intentions were genuine. He introduced himself immediately in a friendly, if somewhat gruff voice, as if socialising wasn't something he indulged in often. He was called, locally at least, Farmer Joe, although his name was Joesaph Baiton by birth.
"Reno Fletcher," was the response to this; no harm in being friendly when Farmer Joe didn't seem to be hostile, or planning anything unpleasant.
"Unusual name that," Joe responded, glancing sideways at his passenger, before asking, "Where ye from youngun'?"
Reno hesitated for a moment, uncertain of whether he should answer this particular question, but then he'd been alone long enough to strongly wish to talk for a while, and there was probably no harm in telling the man. He wondered for a few moments if he was being a little too trusting, but then reflected that since this was most likely years before his birth, and possibly even his parents' birth, there was no way any of his personal details could be used against him. At worst, people would assume he was trying to cover his true identity. "I grew up in Midgar, but my mum always said I was born in Mideel. Never been to Mideel since though."
"Midgar'll be that city up north, won't it now?" Joe asked. "Never heard o' Mideel though."
"It's a long way away. I'm hoping I can get to Midgar sometime soon though," Reno replied, feeling somewhat grateful when Joe didn't question this. He seemed happy enough with getting a name from his passenger, although in the following four hours of the journey, there was a few snatches of idle conversation between the two, from which Reno gained as much information as he could about Darton, which seemed to be the social and economic centre of this half of the continent.
He also learned that the four chocobos, caught with great difficulty by nets, cage traps and drugged greens, were named Sunshine, Buttercup, Daffodil, and Banana. Well, they were yellow birds, but the name Banana had caused a skeptical look from Reno. Joe had explained that he'd once seen a banana in Darton's marketplace, although he half believed it was a fake.
Darton was, as Reno had suspected, a fairly small town, similar in size to Kalm, although other than that, bore little in common with the other town, one that had outlived Darton itself, and survived in the world of the future. It just proved that outward appearances weren't everything, since this seemingly insignificant place was lively town, home to a bustling marketplace that attracted farmers and traders from other towns in the area. As soon as the cart rolled into the town, the sights, sounds and smells bombarded the Turk's senses, and with a smile and nod of thanks to Joe, he jumped down from the cart and went his own way. Exploration, not to mention food, beckoned.
The central square of the town had been liberally filled with rows of stalls, while the shops surrounding the square were also turning a quick profit from the looks of it. The empty spaces between the stalls were packed with people, pushing and shouting in order to get the best buys from the stalls. And the traders themselves were shouting, offering prices to beat their competitors.
There were stalls of fruit and vegetables, one or two with fish, evidently from Junon, and others still with various pastries and bread, both of which called to Reno with their scent. In addition, there were weapons stalls, and one selling armour; neither had anything that could match the Turk's equipment, naturally. There were none selling materia, of course, but a few pandered items that the owners claimed to be magical. They didn't look to be particularly magical to Reno.
Feeling tempted by the smell of fresh bread, or perhaps a warm pie with some description of fruit inside, he checked the contents of his wallet. Probably enough Gil there to buy something, since although he had only a handful of coins, the rules of inflation should mean that Gil went a lot further in the past. That's what old people always said after all, wasn't it? 'Back when I was young ten Gil would feed a family for a week.' As opposed to barely paying for one meal. It looked like Reno would be eating well enough for at least a week or two then, if that really was true.
He approached the stall in question, quickly taking note of the price for a fresh, still warm bread roll, and offered the appropriate coinage. The man behind the stall frowned, studying the coin for a moment or two, before shaking his head and handing it back to Reno. "I don't know where you got that, but that's not Gil."
Reno turned the coin over in his hand, realising at once that a coin with President Shinra's profile on one side was unlikely to be considered legal tender in this world. "Sorry. Guess I didn't check my change too thoroughly," he said, idly toying with manipulating the man into letting him have the bread roll anyway. But the desire for a little excitement got the better of him, and he slinked away into the crowd.
Although he didn't need it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the materia lodged in there; this one was of a pleasant shade of banana yellow, one of his few command based materia. It would give him an edge in the acquisition of local currency though, and he felt he needed every advantage he could get. The use of available resources had been covered extensively in his training, and it was a principle he liked to live by. When there was a resource that would aid in the completion of any mission, not using it would be a waste of an opportunity. Reno needed to steal some money, and so his steal materia was an appropriate and available means by which to ensure success.
With the yellow orb held in his right hand, since he knew himself to be much more lightly fingered with his left, he quietly murmured the words to activate the steal materia, and then moved through the crowd, mingling and 'accidentally' bumping into people so as to lighten the weight of Gil in their pockets. Quick glances at the coins before they joined his materia in his pocket revealed that they were larger and courser than those he was used to, and the face imprinted on one side wasn't that of President Shinra, but of someone Reno didn't recognise at all; a local dignitary perhaps, since the other side of the coin had a coat of arms, and the word 'Darton'.
Each town and village, or area at the very least, had its own unique coins it would seem, although presumably all had some kind of identification so they could be used in other towns. Some of the other coins in his pocket bore names of other locations; one or two even had the name Junon, the coat of arms being a pair of eels intertwining each other.
He hadn't picked up many Gil; numerous small coins, which he guessed came to the value of perhaps five Gil in total. Even so, that would be enough to keep him happy and fed, at least until he made it to Midgar. While he'd never been one for forethought and planning, Reno was the master when it came to short term preparations and on the moment survival and basic instinct. He needed Gil now, so he got Gil now. Nothing more to it than that.
The young man idly helped himself to a handful more coins from a passer-by's pockets, before strolling away through the dense crowds, now heading back towards the bread stall once again. Lunch beckoned to him, and it struck him as almost amusing that in his own time, he'd been barely able to afford one or two meals a day, while here it seemed he would be able to achieve three with little difficulty. It was almost ironic.
A sharp cry went up from a little way behind him, two words that Reno recognised instantly. "Stop! Thief!" Oh, shit. That was not part of the plan. Casting a glance backwards, he could see the person he'd just stolen from bouncing up and down, waving one hand in the air to attract attention, while pointing with the other. Pointing straight at Reno. Had he said 'shit' yet? Yes? Well this warranted a double shit anyway. Shit.
He broke into a run, difficult though that was in the dense crowd around him. But shoving roughly into those that got in his way only caused more chaos. Chaos that he could use, since he was moving fast enough that by the time whoever he'd pushed had realised what had happened, he was long gone, and the pursuit he suspected would soon be chasing him would find their passage through the crowd more complicated. Angry people were generally not inclined to let others pass them.
Despite the benefit the crowd had for him, he would rather have been in a clear, straight run. Long distance running wasn't his thing really, since the enhancements Mako infusion had given him had, for some reason, been mostly limited to speed and agility, and also intelligence. Perhaps Mako enhanced different things in different people, according to their natural strengths. Speed, agility and intelligence had always been Reno's strong points, with much less ability in the area of physical strength, stamina and skills with magic. But with that said, he was still Mako enhanced, and so his stamina would exceed that of the average man without too much effort.
And so he broke free of the dense crowd into a quiet back alley, running down its length and following his instincts for which direction to take. This alley could suddenly terminate with a dead end, but he didn't think so. It wasn't that kind of alley. It wasn't the type that had muggers lurking behind crates in preparation to jump out on unsuspecting travelers, which Reno noted was an excellent excuse for a mugger to hide here; the element of surprise was powerful when used correctly. No, this alley was simply an empty space between buildings, into which back entrances opened to allow deliveries. It was more than wide enough to allow a cart similar in size to Farmer Joe's to pass through.
Which meant, therefore, that it wouldn't be a dead end, because a chocobo drawn cart would have a hell of a lot of trouble turning around or reversing through an alley like this. Of course, if he'd been seen coming down here, then it was possible, if the local law enforcement were intelligent enough, that there'd be someone waiting for him at the other end. If they were really intelligent, there'd be twenty or so someones, or no one at all. One singular person, on their own and in the absence of friends to back them up, did not want to mess with Reno of the Turks.
He could hear the sounds of running footsteps behind him, a fair distance back, and not gaining, although not losing distance either. Reno didn't have enough faith in his stamina to put on an extra turn of speed, not until he knew for certain that he would evade capture. Wasting energy when there was no guarantee of success would only leave him regretting it later, probably from the interior of a cell.
And he knew better than to risk looking back at the pursuit, because the laws of the universe meant that as soon as he did so, he'd trip over a crate, or the butterflies would attack, or something, and he'd get caught. That was how chases always worked, and he was not about to fall into the same trap as hundreds upon thousands of people did in practically every movie in history. Instead, he relied on his hearing to tell him how many were following him.
Five, he decided after a moment. All male, tall and more heavily built than himself; the police here were chosen for simple durability and weight, rather than detective skill. But then, how much brains were needed for a job that mostly involved wandering the countryside and dealing with problems like Reno, the apparently escaped criminal? Although escaped implied there was an actual prison here somewhere, which seemed unlikely in the face of it. A society like this couldn't afford to feed people locked away in cells, not achieving anything. If he got caught, he'd make a point of asking about that.
Not that he intended to get caught however. As he reached the end of the alley, he had to resist the urge to slow down and check for more police hidden around the corners, waiting to ambush him. He didn't have time to stop, considering the pursuit behind him. It was time to trust to blind luck.
Reno didn't even slow as he reached the end of the alley, simply erupting into the much wider street beyond and continuing to run, letting instincts guide him, since he didn't have time to think about where he was going. He had a vague feeling his course was leading him to the east, which was good enough; if he left the town by that direction, he could simply continue on to the Mythril Mines.
His flight was quickly halted however when something sharp hit his thigh, impaling the muscle and causing him to stagger as pain flared. What seemed to be coarse netting twined around his legs, effectively tripping him over and rendering him immobile. His momentum continued for a moment or two, sending him down onto the ground with enough force to jar his entire body. He rolled over, still carried by the force of momentum, before finally coming to a halt, laying helplessly on the ground. He struggled against the fronds of tough, netted twine that entangled him, not only his legs now but his arms as well. Magical, or simply bad luck on his part to have rolled in the perfect manner to tie himself in liberal knots? He was inclined towards the bad luck idea.
But this was strange; he hadn't even heard a shot fired, and the only weapon that could fire an injuring shot and release netting at the same time sounded similar to a gun when fired. Why did the whole world have to be so fucking weird? Irritated, Reno wriggled to free himself from the netting, and swore profusely at the approaching police officers.
"Looks like we caught a live one. Calm down kid, before you hurt yourself," one of the men said, smiling and laughing.
"Hurt myself? You're the one that fucking shot me!" Reno objected, although the pain in his leg was enough to stop him kicking at the net, at least for the moment.
"No, wasn't me. You want to thank Bob for that," was the response from the officer.
"Bob? I got shot by a man called Bob?" the Turk asked, his voice incredulous and also somewhat offended.
"There something wrong with the name Bob?" a deep, rumbling voice asked him, evidently 'Bob'. Looking at him, Reno realised the man was the same shape and size as a mountain. Quite scary, in fact. He would have made Rude look like a dwarf. Very scary.
"Not at all. It's just the principle of the thing. I object to being shot at in general," Reno said. He wasn't a coward, but he wasn't suicidal either. There were some people you simply didn't try to annoy any more than you had to.
"Well, don't you worry about that. We'll make sure you're all patched up before we send you away," 'Bob' said, before laughing lightly. It sounded like an avalanche. The snowy kind of avalanche, not the terrorist 'let's blow up a Mako Reactor' avalanche.
"Send me away where?" he asked, really not liking the sound of that. "Don't suppose you feel like sending me to Midgar, do you?"
"No, we have a better use for little thieves like you. We put them to work," the first officer said, also sounding somewhat amused, which was likely due to the general cluelessness on behalf of Reno. Shit, that was worrying; he was becoming like Strife. Maybe he'd better hope whatever Bob had shot him with would kill him...
Two other men moved forward and pulled Reno up onto his feet, confiscating his gun and mag-rod, and searching through his pockets. They removed the Gil he'd stolen, and also inspected the contents of his wallet, taking them for 'evidence'. They also took his materia, and asked him what they were. "A gift from my late wife..." was Reno's response, before asking if he'd be allowed to keep them, because they were of sentimental value. They'd simply laughed and said no. Fuck.
The netting was cut away from his legs and arms, but not before his hands were bound behind his back with metal cuffs. The sharp angles of the metal rubbed painfully against the still tender burns on his wrists, and although he winced in response to this pain, complaining to his captors didn't seem like a good idea. Not when their treatment of him so far indicated they had no intentions of being gentle anyway, although the officer who'd first spoken, who was the one who seemed to be in charge, at least of this little squad, had ordered one of his men to help Reno walk, since it seemed he wasn't able to do so on his own with an injured leg.
He could, of course, but he didn't feel like it. They'd shot him with something which he now identified as a long, tapered spike, as might have been fired by a crossbow. And since they'd shot him, and hadn't even as yet removed the bolt from his leg, he was going to pretend that he couldn't walk on his own. 'Til the end, Reno always liked to be irritating if he could.
Disclaimer - Reno and Final Fantasy VII belong to Square. However, Farmer Joe, Bob and all original locations belong to me. Again, I have to wonder how lucky I am. At least the plot's mine...
Author's Notes - And you're probably wondering just what is going on with the plot. I know this chapter is somewhat lacking. I'm not pleased with most of it, since I had a lot of trouble writing this. Sometimes chapters just don't want to be written, but I had to get this done, because it's part of my plot. You're probably wondering if I actually have a plot beyond letting Reno wander aimlessly around the world. I do, I promise. You will, however, notice the minor cliffhanger at the end there. This time it's for dramatic effect, not because I haven't decided what I'm doing next.
WrexSoul: Reno's always a pile of fun to write, especially when he's being reflective, or just plain weird, hence why I feel so pleased with the last chapter; I suspect it's one of the better ones, if not the best so far. Course, I should be ashamed of myself for poking you to write, while taking so long getting this chapter out myself.
Tijuana Pirate: Spoil you? Moi? Not intentionally, although I suppose updating a lot does that. I would complain that nobody spoils me like that, but then if there were more stories out there for me to read, I'd spend less time writing.
Ealinesse: Glad you have liked the story so far, and I did hope I was being original. It only gets weirder from here though. I have many plans. Mwahahaha!
And look at this! Short author's notes for once. Inspiration really hasn't been my thing today. I blame work you know. Like, they actually made me work this week. How mean is that? Anyway, if I can coax my writing talent back to life, I'll get to work on Chapter Seven. I'm anticipating getting to Midgar in the next chapter, and thus starting the next section of my plot.