The Turks Christmas Special : Two Special Guests
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Reno felt much better the following day. Rude had come over to get his tie and the day had just escalated in entertainment from there. He wasn't positive, but he thought he'd seen at least Reeve, Scarlet, Elena, and a couple of their lower-rank friends in his living room at the climax of the impromptu party. It was only a party because of the music, really; no one had anything to celebrate, but they were all there drinking nonetheless.
He never made it to bed, but the last stragglers from the festivities had gone by three in the morning, leaving him to sit up on his roof. He could see a few lights, but the one he focused on for a good hour was on the third floor of the hotel. It didn't take a genius to know who was in there, simply because he was far from it. Reno sat smoking on the roof, keeping a Turk-trained eye on the window and going in for food when he needed it, until midday the day of the ball.
Suddenly, the shades flung themselves shut -- that's how it looked from outside, anyway -- and a minute or two later, the door to the hotel flew open. Something possessed him to crawl over the peak in his roof, flatten himself out against the shingles, and wait to see what she would do. There was no doubt in his mind that it was her and this had been what he'd been waiting for for so long. It was probably a good thing he was right, otherwise he might have stayed there all day.
She rounded the corner slowly, glancing around as if to make sure she wasn't being followed. The old woman across the street had already seen her and paused in her watering of the plants, which led to an overflowing pot. Carefully, Yuffie walked up to his door, stepping on her toes as if the slightest sound would alert the guard dog he didn't have.
His knuckles went white, gripping the peak of the roof. He wasn't holding on; he was just anxious for. . .something.
The Wutain lifted her hand and brought it toward the door, but stopped short. For maybe five minutes she stood there, maybe in a storm of indecision or just hoping he might be inside and watching out the window, before her shoulders slumped. "What the hell are you doing, Yuffie. . .he'll probably shoot you. . ." She turned and walked away as quietly as she'd come, looking defeated this time through. He watched her go all the way before slinging himself back over the roof and sliding in through his bedroom window.
He wasn't sure what had happened; whether it was the fact he was getting over it or the one that said today was the company party and he was the king of fazing out distractions temporarily, that didn't rile him up nearly as badly as it would have yesterday. Either the party had done something major for him or this was all too much for him at one time so his mind was putting it on hold until his business was done.
Or. . .maybe he didn't care. It would make a normal man hate himself, but he'd been known to not care about the people he meant the most to.
He didn't care; he had some hell to let loose tonight, and he knew his targets already. Even in this time of great peril -- or at least that's how Tseng would put it in some speech -- he was going to start some shit, Drannor-style.
"Fuck," he groaned, slapping his forehead. The speech. Last year they hadn't made anybody make speeches, and the year before. . .well, he wasn't in charge the year before. But this year he'd been told to write up and deliver a speech. He checked the clock and saw he had maybe seven hours to do it; judging from past years, he knew the length these things had to be. He could skip out on it, of course, but. . .that would be lying, and Turks were honorable people.
Maybe it was the first time he'd motivated that year, but he preferred getting wasted to actually counting.
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"Happy Winter Day, Reno!"
Elena had been waiting at the door of the building for him, and wrapped him in a hug as soon as he walked inside. He allowed himself to smile despite the speech that was under his jacket and the thoughts ringing in the back of his head. Reno had never pegged himself as a writer, nor had any of his teachers, but when he'd sat down to write that, it had just come.
And the result scared the hell out of him.
The ShinRa Hall, basically the ballroom, was as large as you might expect from a room that was supposed to be big in the first place remade with the richest man in the world behind the wheel. Chandeliers that could blind a man after so long, a bar with almost every kind of liquor behind it, and a buffet table filled with the finest delicacies and appetizers that ShinRa, Incorporated could find, and that was lot.
"How's the holiday treating you?" he asked in good spirit. She gave him a smirk and a shrug; something was on her mind. His next question was "Scarlet here yet?" to which she seemed uncomfortable and flipped a wrist toward the bar. "Thanks. See y'round." He made his way over toward the long slab of wood, slapping a few people from the offices on the back as he did. At a company event, the head Turk had to be reasonable.
He found her talking to Reeve over a martini, looking more respectable than Scarlet the Starlet could have dreamt of, in a flowing red dress, golden earrings, and makeup that said real estate agent as opposed to real live whore. He knew she had a gun at her hip, though. Reno was briefly confused, and the first thing he asked was, "Tell me this loser's not your fabled date? Can't even wear a fucking tie to his own company get-together." With a grin, Reno reached out and tugged off the clip-on.
Reeve, one of those good-spirited holiday guys, just shook his head with a small smile. "'Fraid not, but I wouldn't say much about my tie. I assume you forgot to write the speech and we'll need to have an extra ten minutes of Heideggar's gibberish this year?"
"No faith at all, Reeve," he drawled, opening his coat. Next to his gun was the piece of paper he'd doubted himself about all afternoon. He had a feeling that both were something Reeve was relieved to see. "Scarlet, come up to my office with me, hm?"
She lifted a brow, as if to say, "Why?"
The redhead smirked. "If anything falls out and tries to cut my dick off, I want your neck within three feet." He held out his arm, and after telling Reeve she would be back, she looped hers around it and strode alongside him.
They didn't speak until they reached the elevator, just because having conversations with all the names they called each other wasn't exactly accepted when walking through a room of highly respectable businessmen. The only reason they didn't hustle to the elevator like teens in love was because Reno knew they could easily pass off as esteemed husband and wife -- that and they weren't going to fuck in the elevator this year. Hell, they'd done both last year.
Inside the lift, she pressed the button for the fifty-first floor and looked at him. "What the hell's with your hair?" she asked. Indeed, he'd combed through it and slicked it back. Without the markings on the sides of his face and the fact he smelled like an eternally-burning cigarette, she wouldn't have believed it was him.
He shrugged and lit up a smoke, passing a second to her with his lighter. "No smoking," to them, meant "Just don't ash in the petri dishes, okay?" He was rather proud of the way he'd cleaned up for the party. A black suit, tie, shined shoes, and everything. "Speech to give."
Scarlet's lip quirked up and she straightened his suit jacket, fixing his tie while she was at it. It would have looked like a mother sending her son to his first day of college to any ignorant observer. But that was just the way they were; the pair who made it very blatant twice a year that "there will be birthday spankings once we clock out!" in a way that isn't fit for a classroom also went out of their way to do stupid shit like clearing dandruff off of each other's shoulders.
"How do I look, Mom?" he queried, stretching out the last word.
In a rare moment of affection -- perhaps even more rare because the only reason she could reach his head was because of her dress heels -- she kissed him on the cheek and smiled honestly. "You really do clean up rather well, Reno. I think all you need's a good woman to take care of you." She met his eyes. "Honest answer, if just to humor me. Could we last if we tried?"
"Scarlet," he said in a confident voice, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ears. "We could do anything we wanted with enough effort, you and I. But for tonight, I think we're better off with you telling me who your date is and me trying to figure out where the fuck my life is taking me."
Her smile held. "Do what you need to do, Drannor. I've got your back if nobody else does."
For the first time in a long time, Reno was touched. He might have hugged her if it wasn't a totally strange thing for him to do. "This still leaves us with the puzzle of who you're going to dinner with all the time, am I right?" The elevator buzzed and the doors slid open. Most lights had been dimmed for the energy conservation, and there was something intensely relaxing about walking down a long, tile hallway with one of his best friends. He'd yet to tell her about Yuffie's one-week stay in Midgar, but the time would come.
She smirked and fished the keys to the Turk office out of his pocket. "All in due time, Reno." She unlocked the door, amused that he actually stepped off to the side, but the door swung open without any hassle and she turned the lights on. Tossing his keys at him, she said, "See? No knife-wielding psycho."
"Har," he barked, and still poked his head in before entering himself. "So what's the big surprise? The reminder that I'm still stuck with this shit job and this is still my office?"
Scarlet's hips swayed as she headed to his desk. "Shit job, shit office, but not shit people, hm?" She picked an envelope up from his desk and threw it gracefully to him. "Happy Winter Day, you ungrateful slob. Don't worry, I mean that in the most positive way." The strange part was that they both knew she actually did.
The Turk opened the envelope with the keys before pocketing them. He slid from the envelope. . .a title. It wasn't a title to a desk or anything, but rather the title to a house that was in. . . He squinted. "Costa del Sol?" he murmured. He had a perfectly nice house; no beach in sight, but that didn't bother him all that much. It was then that he saw the seal in the bottom corner of the paper and knew what was going on. "The villa?" he asked, head jerking toward her. "You bought me the ShinRa Villa?"
"That's a joint present from my date and I. Rude's present is flying you over there whenever you wanna check it out and picking you up the next week. I hope you don't mind that I invited myself along?" she asked impassively. "It's winter. I can't afford to look pale right now."
He didn't know how to take this. The ShinRa Villa was absolutely amazing if you knew how to look at it. For some rag-tar traveler like Cloud Strife, who'd been offered the place for twice its worth, it looked like just another stop. By through the eyes of a ShinRa executive on vacation, that place was paradise. "You bought me. . .the ShinRa Villa. First Reeve buys me a bar and now you give me a beach house."
She was still smiling. "It's not like I don't have the cash to toss around, and I think you'd love it there for a summer or two. Great beach, decent bar, nice decor. . .like I said, present from my date and I."
After a few more rounds of what had basically just been said, they went back down to join the party, coming off the elevator as presentable as they'd gotten on. That was a relief to most people in attendance; some major psychological damage had been done the previous year. Scarlet disappeared into the ever-growing crowd to find Reeve and Reno was left wandering around until he bumped into Rude and Leila, his date for the night.
"Reno," the latter said tensely, showing no signs of shaking his hand or even smiling. "I read about you in the paper this morning, even saw you on the TV; a real celebrity since you nailed the princess of Wutai, aren't you?"
On his second cigarette of the evening, his mind waged war once again and he decided this would be the only fun he would have this night. He took the smoke out of his mouth and stubbed it forcefully out on a very notable part of her dress with a big smile. "Better hope my fucking paparazzi doesn't get you in a shot. You look like shit."
She gaped at him, and then at Rude, who was trying hard not to laugh and failing as badly as Palmer at dieting. With a Plate-level scoff that was obviously an mock, she swept up the bottom of her dress and walked off.
Rude, who stuck by the fact he'd warned her about this type of stuff, just shrugged and slapped Reno on the back. "She was really gettin' on my nerves. Thanks, man."
They walked around, making friends with all the high-rollers from Junon and Wutai, until Reeve stood at the podium and tapped the mic for attention. "Thank you for coming to ShinRa, Incorporated's Annual Winter Day Ball, everyone. I trust the weather treated you well. Now if I may have our speakers of the night? General Gregory Heideggar, Miss Scarlet Chassity, Mister Reno Drannor, and Doctor Katedona Touzas, please?"
It took a moment for them to all sort through the crowd and make it to where four chairs had been set out for them, especially through the thunderous applause, as it sounded on the floor, but they all made it in one piece. Scarlet sat next to Reno, while Heideggar and the Junon-dwelling Touzas sat on the other side of the podium. A few reporters were hanging around the front of the crowd.
"Miss Chassity, if you would, please?" Ever the gentleman, Reeve gave her a brief hug as those in attendance clapped. Reno'd seen his lips move, though, and he read them well: Be careful.
Scarlet smiled with the teeth that could win the war. "Thank you, President. As we all in attendance know, was appointed to Head of Rebuilding and Maintenance and other miscellaneous jobs after the unfortunate, tragic downfall of the ShinRa Family Empire just over two years ago. But since then, I'd like to say, I've seen an improvement in this city that is absolutely fantastic. This is in no way a cheap shot at the late presidents Robert and Rufus ShinRa, both of whom were dear, dear people to me, but I would like to say that there is no better man to run this city than our own President Emerson Reeve, and I am proud to work under his watchful eye. Expect to see Midgar take on an even better look throughout the next year. Thank you." She made a small waving motion and stepped down to another round of applause.
Heideggar was next up, but it was a blessing that he'd been doing a lot of outdoors work lately and his voice was nearly gone. He didn't even expect a hug. "I'm sorry, my speech will be cut severely short this year due to sickness." He cleared his throat. "As head of Defense, Security, and Warfare, I would like to say that this city has never been as safe as it is today and the future of Midgar looks as bright as the present." He did it again, but that was all he'd needed to say. "Thank you."
One of the press people in the front yelled out, "Robbie Neverson, from the Midgar Times! General, are the rumors true? Is there really a serial killer out on Midgar streets as we speak? And if there is, why shouldn't the public know about it?" There was a yell from two more reporters in agreement.
Reeve was going to leap up, but Reno slapped him back down with a strong arm, as he'd taken Scarlet's seat. The redhead used the momentum to propel himself up and walked to the podium, shoving Heideggar out of the way as the man flushed. He readjusted the mic and spoke: "Well, I believe I'm up to bat next, so I, as leader of the Turks, will field this one." He took his speech out before he did so, and his answer was, "Mister Neverson, isn't someone always trying to fuck up Midgar?"
A gasp ran through the more sophisticated crowd, but the former slum-dwellers who had made it to the top of the food chain pumped fists into the air, overcome by a sudden kind of pride for the place.
Reno's hands were sweating. His legs were shaking. God, he needed a fucking cigarette. He hated standing up in front of people, and he felt even worse in Tseng's place. But he still put on a confident face from the waist up as Robbie Neverson began scribbling on his notepad. "Mister Neverson, don't quote me. We all in attendance know that what I just said is the undisputed truth and nothing you put in the Midgar Times is going to lower the crime rate. Now you have two options. You can take that notepad and shove it up your ass while we all beat you with exotic fruits, or you can go back to your employer and say the crime is just as severe now as it was ten years ago. The same goes for alla you," he said, sweeping a finger across the line of reporters. A collective shudder ran through them. "Now if you're done badgering the General and I, may I continue?"
No one spoke; no one breathed. Except for Reeve, who asked softly, "Do you have any idea what you just said?"
"Very well, then." Reno knew, but he didn't care. He looked down at the paper he'd written and it was all blurred together. His eyes refused to focus well enough to read it, but he tried again. And again. The murmur from one person to another grew until there was a quiet clamor of people in hurried, questioning tones.
Reno gave up. This wasn't his paper; this wasn't how he felt about Midgar. Paperwork or no, he wouldn't say it.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he sighed into the mic, quieting them. "I know you're all far too used to the Reno Drannor who makes a fool out of himself at all of the company festivities, but a different man stands before you tonight.
"You all undoubtedly have read the articles in the newspaper and seen the television reports about my most recent. . .misfortune. Everyone makes such a big deal of today like it's the climax of everything good in the world, but we've said it ourselves that someone's killing innocents, papers are printing lies about their very own city, and people are being ridiculed right out their front doors. What message does that really send about Winter Day to the influential masses?"
Someone in the back yelled, "That Midgar sucks no matter what time of year it is?!"
The Turk laughed. "Not quite, but close. It says that people are at their most vulnerable during the holidays when family is put first, and it also says that we're willing to attack them with all we've got, moral or no. Now I know that hearing this from a Turk may be a bit of a pot-kettle-black moment, but I like to think I know what I'm talking about. I used to live down there; shit, I killed more of those people when it was illegal than have ever seen their name in print."
Everyone was talking, and most questions revolved around whether he'd lost his mind or not.
"What I'm saying is that Midgar's a strong city, even I know that. We're not going to be knocked over by some no-name without a calling card. If anything, the gangs will sort him out much faster than we ever could, so why put it in the paper when those affected can't afford one? Why tell the world we're such a -- a shit place if the people bathing in it are handling themselves extremely well under the circumstances? The only problem with Midgar is that we've locked ourselves out of the slums and told ourselves we're better than them when, on a moral decency scale, they've got our asses on the burner."
Now the talk had changed to brief explosions of support and confession from those in attendance. Heideggar looked indifferent, Scarlet sat with a knowing smile, and Reeve had been stoicly clapping for a good minute.
"So celebrate this like it's Winter Day, not a day where people are dying. Does someone cancel their birthday because someone got shot? Hell no! If that's the way it went, we'd never celebrate anything in Midgar again. As leader of the Turks, I back General Heideggar up when I say that this city is as safe as it's ever been, and that if anything is not under control, the Turks will make it so. Happy Winter Day, and thank you."
The reaction was a little more than he'd expected from a crowd such as that, what with the former gang members present letting their necklaces of veteran status hang out over their suits, but Reeve would still be getting his fair share of complaints the next day and Reno's pay would be docked for a few hours. Perhaps the most surprising thing was that Heideggar was the first person among the pleased to stand up and clap.
"It takes diff'rent strokes," muttered Reeve as he, too, clapped.
The doctor from Junon's speech fell on deaf ears; the buzz from Reno's sudden moment of city pride was just too immense for her to actually get her point across. Even Reno didn't listen to her, and he was looking very attentive. When she was done and Reeve had declared the bar open, the buffet free for the taking, and the dances on, the redhead signaled for a smoke break over the crowd and met up with Rude at the door.
The taller man chose not to say anything on the speech but instead kept the topic on what they havoc plans for the night were. Reno, jokingly, had out a notepad -- he'd slipped it into his pocket after the speech -- and a pen to write this all down with when a man strutted up to the doors, reeking of drugs.
The Turks exchanged a look that held more meaning than this man thought.
"Name's right there on this list, ain't it?" said the man, who was wearing an oversized Schmidt suit with sunglasses. He rapped on the back of the notepad with a grimy knuckle, and Reno caught a glimpse of a blade attached to his wrist beneath his sleeve. He knew what this guy were here for; if he thought they were bouncers, there was a list to get in, and that a trained Turk couldn't see a concealed weapon with their eyes closed, he was definitely their man. He fit the description, too. "Tim. Tim the Winter Day Pimp, y'dig?"
He couldn't go for his gun, because the guy's hand was so close that even he wasn't fast enough to avoid the right flick of that nasty-looking blade. He looked around inconspicuously, then down at the list. "Uh, let me see. Yeah, Tim, right here." The pause from the confused "pimp" was enough time for Reno to do the only thing he could. He whipped the pen around and jammed it into the closest thing he could find that was soft and fleshy -- conveniently, the side of Tim's head.
Tim the Winter Day Pimp dropped like a sack of Schmidt.
They sang the song for years, with one minor fact changed. It became their new Winter Day carol around the office: "Reno Drannor took a pencil, stuck the fucker in Tim's temple!" None of them taught their children, but it sure made for a good bar story.
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Author's Note: One week left! Then this thing will be out of my life for good, but I'll miss it. Stay tuned.