DL Noleek

Sonata of Ages

Adagio

Chapter 3: Midgar's Grim Reaper

"I like my victims to be awake when I kill them Mika. I want them to know who is responsible for taking their life."

-Reno,

Midgar's Grim Reaper

Night had fallen upon Midgar's fifth sector, not that anyone could tell the difference; beneath the upper plate, it was always nighttime. The only difference between night and day was what the various clocks said upon walls in bars, inns, and the few "residencies" that dotted the city's underground. It was one of the reasons Midgar was never safe beneath the surface, yet that was just another uncontrollable factor, wasn't it? According to the local news, it was also raining in Midgar right now; good for the big guys upstairs, but no one else really gave a crap. Hell, there were people beneath the plate that didn't even know what rain looked like. The concept that water fell from the sky had never had much of an impact on the lower population; it was as big a myth as the bogeyman—oh wait, that last one was real…

Well, shoot, didn't that just beat all. The bogeyman was walking tonight too.

Reno jammed the butt of his cigarette into the earth beneath his feet, his worn brown work boots cutting off oxygen to smother the smoldering embers that still emanated from the lit end. To be honest, Reno hadn't wanted the 'job' tonight. He had a greater craving for alcohol than a thirsty man in the desert, just a great deal more vitality to achieve his goal. All he needed was a good bottle of the slum's cheapest rum in any tavern that would take his money—or any tavern that didn't want to put up a fight with a pissed-off piece of slum shit who hadn't had a good drink in—by all Holy, six hours!

Pushing his overly long red hair from his shoulders where it hung from a low queue in the back of his head, Reno began to make his way toward his destination, quickly making sure that the thin white case beneath his coat was still in place. The run-down apartments nearest the exit to sector five were only meters away now. Reno didn't even attempt to hide from the shadows that reached out to grab him as they darted around street corners in fear of the light. He was just as bad as they were—equally as tricky, just as silent, and a great deal more lethal despite his wiry frame. Besides, blood-red hair was not exactly conducive to hiding. A large neon sign with the words "Hey, over here," would not have had a greater effect.

Unfortunately, there was a point when Reno had actually been somewhat of a vain man, and he absolutely refused to try to cover it up with dyes—not that they would take anyway.

Reno stopped just below an open window on the third floor and shook his head, smiling slightly at the stupidity. /You'd think after a life-time in the slums, locking doors and windows would be part of that street-wise common sense. Oh well, guess not. Makes it easier on me. /

With a silent, practiced motion, Reno removed the thin white case from its pocket beneath his jacket and after hitting a few choice switches that decorated the outside, opened up the case. Inside were all the tricks of his trade. Several wires of varying lengths and thickness were wrapped around the inner part, still gleaming as if they were newly purchased—and some of them were, he had had to replace a couple not too long ago. Nestled between the wires, like birds in a nest, were two sets of sharp, silver stilettos, their points dagger-sharp and well cared for. Next to them were his lock picks, a ring of them that he had fastened himself. Reno's hand hovered over the small switch at the bottom of the box—no he wouldn't need to release the hidden drawer. Poison shouldn't be necessary for such a simple job.

After a moment of consideration, Reno removed two of the wires and placed them on his belt loop. Both sets of stilettos were then latched onto his person, the first set going into the holders up his sleeves, the last two going into his boots beside his daggers.

It always helped to be prepared for anything.

Once everything was secure, he slowly made his way along the old stone wall, tapping each block as he passed. It only took him a moment to find the right section; he had remembered the location almost exactly.

With deft, slim fingers, he began to feel along the cracks, going up on tiptoes to reach the sections that were just out of his reach—the door was a high one. Reno paused with one finger still on one end of the gash on the wall, a section that was almost even with his nose, and pulled out the thinner of the two wires. He then inserted the end into the crack and began searching for the catch that he knew was there. Carefully, he began to jiggle the wire, moving it up and down until he reached a spot that was a few centimeters from where he had started—there was a soft click and the wall jutted out just enough for him to get a good grip on the stone and pull it out.

Reno couldn't suppress the cough that rattled through his chest when the dust rose from the newly revealed hole in the wall. Apparently Mika hadn't known about this passage when he had settled there; it hadn't been used in years.

After the dust cleared enough for him to see clearly, Reno moved through and found himself in a small empty room with cement floors and a single light dangling from the ceiling that refused to light up when Reno pulled on its string—a basement. Reno wrinkled his nose. It smelled like mildew.

Much to his chagrin, the only conceivable way out besides the way he came in was a rickety looking set of steps that led up to the next floor. Growling softly in irritation, Reno cautiously placed one foot on the first step and promptly began cursing.

/Damn, probably several decades worth of termite damage on these…/ Suddenly, the banister broke underneath his left hand with a loud snap. /Shit! /

There was scuffling upstairs—two sets of footsteps right over his head.

"Hey, did you hear something?" the voice was only meters from the door.

"No," came a second voice, slightly slurred. "You're imagining things. There's nothing down that hole but rats. That's what you heard you Jack."

Reno heard the sound of a latch being released above him and he eased off the lower step as his hands crept closer to the stilettos up his sleeves.

"We should probably give it a look anyway though. Mika won't like it if we don't."

"Fine, fine, we'll go down and visit the rats." There was the sound of something being set down and despite the situation Reno grinned. /I know the sound of a half-full bottle of gin anywhere. This one's my kind of man. A pity he's working for Mika. /

Light flooded in as the door was pushed open with a loud squeal. "Jeez, when was the last time this thing was opened? And it's blacker in here than Hell at midnight!"

/Ah, how perceptive of you. The better to see you with my dears. Thank you for leaving the door open for me too…how kind. /

The two goons didn't stand a chance. In one motion, Reno pulled his weapons free of their holsters and launched them at his two would-be assailants. Just before the impact, both faces registered a glimpse of shock, and Reno was sure that they had spotted him, but it was by far too late; it always was.

Reno walked calmly up the steps toward the door and knelt beside his first victims of the night, pulling his stilettos free of their necks. Frowning, he wiped the two small knives clean before putting them back up his sleeves.

/Now see what you made me do? I had to go and get my toys dirty. I wasn't planning on using these tonight you know, / he thought, while shaking the two pieces of metal at one of the corpses.

No matter, it wasn't like they didn't deserve to die and he always cleaned all of his toys after a job. But still, they shouldn't have come to check on him—they only had themselves to blame for their deaths.

Reno stepped over the two corpses and made his way up the rest of the steps. The first level of the old apartment building was a mess. The only furniture in the old lobby was a table with a few chairs around it—and the bottle of gin that one of the goons had set there earlier.

Reno walked over to the table and snatched up what was left of the gin, downing it in only a few gulps. He sighed as the burning sensation filled his mouth and ignited a fire as it tumbled down his throat. /Ah, excellent…Midgar's finest. / He put the bottle back where he found it, glad that it hadn't gone to waste. Now, perhaps, he could complete his job in a better mood.

His next destination was the third floor, but judging by the shadows moving in the hallway, there were guards near the stairs too—not a problem. Reno did a quick sweep of his surroundings and found that the first floor wrapped around, the lobby connecting to the kitchen which in turn connected to the front entrance near the steps. All he had to do was get the guards away from their post for a moment.

Sauntering into the kitchen, Reno's eyes fell on a gas stove and he had to stuff down the urge to laugh maniacally. /Oh, they are making this way too easy on me! If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Mika was asking me to slit his throat! All right, one toasty fire, here we come! /

Reno wasted no time in igniting the gas stove. Once the gas was on high, he removed a ragged dish cloth from the oven door and threw it on the stove top, calmly moving behind a wall near the stairs as the smoke from the burning material spread throughout the house. Surely these guards would have at least enough common sense to put out the fire—if not, well, perhaps he could just leave through the front door and let Mika burn to death.

"Do you smell that?" came a voice from near the stairs.

"Smells like something burning…the kitchen, quick, move!"

/Oh the stupidity…/ With those thoughts, Reno swung around the corner of his hiding place and quickly made his way up to the third floor. There were no lights on the top floor, but that didn't deter him in the slightest. There was enough light from the staircase to provide enough illumination to maneuver in; besides, he was used to dark places. He was a slum rat after all. The dark had stopped sending shivers up his spine when he was about three.

An intelligent man would have chosen the room furthest from the stairs and changed it every night if he was being hunted, but Reno refused to give him that much credit. Mika would choose the room closest to the dinner table—it was also likely that he was the idiot who left the window on the third floor wide open.

Drawing his dagger out of his left boot, Reno pushed open the first door on his right. Sure enough, it was the room with the open window. There was a little illumination coming from the streetlights outside, enough to reveal a large-four poster bed almost directly under the pane. Mika's fat carcass was on its back, snoring loudly enough to muffle any sounds a less experienced assassin might make.

Reno wasn't a novice assassin. His motions were entirely silent, the floorboards not daring to let lose a single squeak even though they were likely more than twice Reno's age. He put his back toward the window, leaving himself enough room to escape if it was needed and a clear view of the door should anyone decide to come plowing through it. His left hand was ready to make a move for the stiletto up his right sleeve should he have to defend himself from this distance.

His eyes glanced around the room and Reno felt disgust building in the pit of his stomach. It had to be one of the gaudiest things he had ever seen. Several bad nature paintings hung on the wall, depicting tranquil forests, rushing streams, and high mountains. Although he had never seen any of these features, Reno was willing to bet that none of them were accurate—it wasn't possible for anything in Hell to be beautiful.

The floor was littered with pottery—imitations of real Wutaian art that were most likely pieces of junk crafted in one of Midgar's higher plates. They were nothing more than something Mika would pawn off to some innocent consumer in the slums, getting up someone's hope of selling the pottery to get money and a ticket out of the hole in the ground Shinra called a city.

Reno hated a sham operation. No one had the right to try to brighten the slums in such a way—life sucked, deal with it. This made him want to kill Mika even more. Normally, Reno felt a small stab of reluctance when he was sent out on a job, but this…he was taking something from people who couldn't afford to give any more. Killing was his job, and he always completed his tasks, no mater what his feelings were on the matter, but Mika…

Reno poked the fat man's belly with the butt of his dagger, jabbing him hard enough to wake up even the worst city drunk from his stupor. Mika shifted slightly and his beady gray eyes, still full of sleep, opened with painful slowness. They were wide-awake, however, when his eyes finally fell on Reno with is dagger against his throat.

"I like my victims to be awake when I kill them Mika," Reno said with deathly serious tone. He inched the blade further into Mika's flesh, parting his fatty hide to let loose a single rivulet of crimson. "I want them to know who is responsible for taking their life."

Mika's breath quickened has he began to panic, his chubby body beginning to struggle beneath the assassin's knife. "Reaper…" was all he managed.

Reno grinned. "Yes Mika. Don Coreno has requested your death. It's time for you to pay your dues."

"You can't be the Reaper," Mika gasped, crying a little now.

"Oh, and why not?" Reno whispered, using a tone that always seemed to induce frightful shutters from those whose life he was about to steal. He wasn't disappointed—fat coward.

"Because…Holy, you can't be more than thirteen…no more than a child…"

Reno almost laughed. It was such a common mistake. "Mika, you grew up here, you should know better. There are no children in Midgar. Children die too quickly."

There were sounds on the steps outside and voices echoing from the floor beneath him. Reno's grip tightened around his dagger. "It's been a pleasure Mika, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go now. Know that sector five now belongs to The Don." With a swift downward motion, Reno severed the main artery in Mika's neck, killing him cleanly.

Slipping the bloody knife back into his boot, Reno pulled out the thicker wire and with a practiced eased, knotted one end around the bedpost and threw the other end out the window. Grasping the piece of metal in both hands, Reno began to inch himself out the window, but paused once just before exiting.

"Oh, and Mika. For the record, I'm sixteen."

A commotion had just begun in the hallway, and figuring that he had overstayed his welcome, Reno leaped out the third story window and onto the street below. Once his feet were on firm ground again, he gave the wire a sharp tug and the whole thing came tumbling down.

Reno quickly did a mental once over to make sure that he had left nothing behind and then calmly sauntered down the alleyway. He still had to report to Coreno—yet another pompous ass in one of Midgar's high positions—and let him know that his target was dead.

After that, he could finally get back to his own little shit-hole in the slums and grab something stronger than the gin he had had earlier. Besides, Prim was waiting for him at home.

Author's Note: My depiction of Reno, need I say more. I hope I've shed enough light to give everyone an idea about his character and withheld enough to keep it interesting.

As always, I like reviews and I am STILL looking for a beta reader…