Vienna
. o .
Slow down, you crazy child
you're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart, tell me
Why are you still so afraid?
. o .
He tells me it was all an accident. Sixteen years old, standing on a street corner, waiting for the girl he was sweet on to show up. Midgar slums, but he looked good – he buttoned his shirt then, he told me, slinging a whisky shot and plunking it down on the bar.
I can't tell you why I'm still listening. Could be his eyes. So I pour him another. They'd emptied the bar upon entry, his friend is in the back, and he's lugged the redhead out before. I can feel his eyes on me through those sunglasses, and try not to show it.
He says her name was Vienna… cute little brunette, a year younger. Prudish, he whispers, leaning towards me and giving the word a dictionary's worth of meaning.
"Just talk, you said," I tell him.
He sulks, but obliges, recalling how the girl strode up the street to meet him. Halfway there, blue suits appeared and gunshots sounded. Vienna dodged, but a bullet pinned her shoulder and her eyes looked up at him, searching his with a hardness he'd never noticed before. The knife is out of her boot and slashing across his cheek before he can react, and though it has healed over, he's tracing it now.
I pour him another shot when he places ten gil on the bar, and he continues, gaze distant. He tells me how he saw red, pushing her to the ground and pulling out his own gun as he hovered over her. The gunshots didn't stop, but they faded as he returned a few shots of his own.
"Turned out," he murmured, "turned out by some stroke of fucking luck I'd shot two Turks. Killed one." Wry grin straight at me, this time. "Took out Tseng's kneecap, and even all of Hojo's magic couldn't fix it good, 'cause it still froze up sometimes. The hulk back there wanted to kill me, but Tseng saw something in a scrawny kid in a hand-me-down blue suit and wouldn't let him."
I feel my expression go incredulous at his last admission, but he only shrugged, and tipped back the shot. His fourth? I was losing count.
They'd killed Vienna withone bullet through the heart, one bullet through the head. Turks' signature; I'd seen it enough to know. Turned out the sweet little girl was a runner in a drug cartel whose boss had become too cocky. Turned out she also was the boss' daughter who had turned down Rufus Shinra, but he hadn't learned that until he went looking, years later.
He'd accepted. It was something different, he says, tracing the rim of the glass with a tapered index finger. I want to hit him and scream you chose to kill people for a living because it was something different but I keep my silence as he tips an invisible hat, leaves another fifty gil, and staggers for the door.
I'd like to think I'm not that much of a hypocrite.
. o .
. . . finis . . .
. o .
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize (save the song, "Vienna," by Billy Joel, which is,I believe about the place and not about a woman) is Square's.
Sabe's Scribbles: As requested by Tijuana Pirate – a backstory for Reno, not compatible with the "Believe" arc. Hurrah for the thin line between good and evil that presents itself so marvelously in this game… Hope you enjoyed it, girl!
As always, comments and constructive criticism are appreciated; in the meanwhile, I wish you Cheers, and Starry Nights!