Reeve: So, Tyramir broke the rotation. Just for you.
Reno: Yai!
Reeve: You do know this isn't cause to celebrate, right?
Reno: Yai!
Reeve: Shera could be dead, you know.
Reno: Yai...! I mean... ah... crap. I... uh... but... me... and I... chapter... Yai!
Reeve: You selfish bastard. Anyway, Tyramir doesn't own the rights to Final Fantasy or any of its characters.
Chapter Thirty Six
Run
Reno straightened his jacket one more time and checked his shirt. Everything was tidy about him for a change. His clothes, his hair, hell, his shoes were even polished. Just like Rufus had ordered. Reno twisted his mouth in distaste, and hoped that megalomaniac would get his in the end. Sure, no more pay for Reno, but he had enough stashed to keep him steadily drunk for the rest of his life. Shinra could go screw itself. This company sucked.
Opening the door to Reeve's office, Reno let himself in. The secretary normally would have tried to stop him, but he just winked at her and blew a kiss, and she blushed, reminded of their little romp the week previous.
Inside, Hojo sat at Reeve's desk, flipping through some files. Reno had never liked Hojo. In fact, no one ever really had. The man was cruel, sadistic, and, as Reno liked to call him, barking mad. The world had been made a better place when Vincent Valentine and Red XIII had torn this man to pieces in the Sister Ray's control room.
"What do you want?" Hojo asked, not even looking up from the papers on his desk.
You're just here for an alibi, Reno reminded himself. No need to be a hero. If you kill this son of a bitch, pump a few bullets into him like he deserves, security'll be all over this place, and I'll be dead. Just gotta wait him out, wait for Rufus to get back...
"I'm here to deliver my response to your Soldier candidates for the Turks."
Hojo glanced up, an amused smile on his face. "And?"
Walking up to Reeve's desk, Reno leaned over, putting his hands on the desk, looking the madman directly in the eyes, and said, "No."
"No?" the imposted said, confused.
"No. Not happening. Amount of people you suggested on my team that're getting on it? Zero. Are you getting any of this? Turk policy says I choose my team. All three people underneath me."
"But you have two spots open," Hojo argued, and Reno inwardly smiled. So he really didn't know about Yuffie after all. Hojo continued, "And I haven't seen you do anything to fill them. We here at Shinra expect results, not your laziness. I provided a list of experienced people to fill your positions. All of them veterans."
"Let's see..." Reno said. "Out of those suggestions, you gave me a mass murdering psycho, a man who so strictly follows protocol he can't even think for himself, a man that's blind in one eye, and a jerk who's so stupid he can't even form a coherent sentence."
"I gave you one other," Hojo said.
Dramatically sighing, the Turk responded, "Oh yeah. Ivon Trask. Now there's a Turk candidate. Strong, intelligent, fast, a damn good shot, a war record second only to Sephiroth, a glowing physical report by Professor... oh shoot, I forgot his name. Never really paid much attention to the science geeks. Eh, he wasn't important anyway. Heard he was just the shadow of some guy named Gast."
Hojo's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he stood up slowly. "You're referring to one of the more brilliant minds of our time, Professor Hojo."
"Yeah, that's him! Never could remember his name. Oh well. Insane guy. Never liked him anyway. Heard this 'Professor Gogo' guy got killed by a former Turk, Vincent Valentine. Real legend, him. Now there's a name that's going to be remembered."
"Is there a point to this?"
Other than pissing you off? No. Instead, what came out of his mouth was, "Yeah. Trask. Seems to have a perfect record and all that. Ideal candidate for a member of my team. I'd take him, but... just one problem with him."
"Oh?"
"His record's classified. Not even Turk Commander clearance is good enough to get at this guy, and for a regular Soldier, that's weird. I've only seen that on one other file, and that was Sephiroth. So, that leads me to believe that this guy's dangerous, maybe almost as dangerous as Sephiroth himself. So, til I see that file, I can't take him, sorry."
Take that, you lunatic.
A smile crept up on Hojo's lips, and the man reached down to his deck and picked up a folder, and handed it across the table to Reno. "You'll find all of Trask's classified information in there. You'll find it's all very straight forward, save a few special enhancements he's been given."
Reno managed to keep his face straight as he took the folder, but inside he wanted to shout for joy. This was what he had wanted. Trask's file, to figure out what was so special about this guy that Hojo wanted him as a Turk. That, and Reno wanted to keep an eye on the Soldier, even to go so far as to make him a member just so he could monitor his movements.
"Of course," Hojo said, "You'll want to see Trask perform, correct?"
Reno glanced up the file in his hands that he'd been staring at. Frowning, he answered, "Sure. I mean, let's see what the guy can do."
"Excellent. It just so how happens, he's about to deal with a saboteur." Hojo produced a remote control from one of his pockets and clicked a button, pointing it at a wall. A section opened up, and a television screen came forth. It flickered on, showing a streaming video shot from a security camera. A large man was standing in a doorway to a room with a lot of electrical conduits. It was dark, and it looked like it was in... Reno squinted, and saw the words 'Underwater Reactor' on the screen.
Shera. That son of a bitch knows about Shera. Cold sweat slid down Reno's brow, but he tried to make himself look interested. I have to get down there. Turn this clusterfuck around before someone gets killed.
"This video sucks," Reno said. "I can't see shit. Think there's time for me to run down there and watch it in person?"
"I highly doubt that," Hojo responded. "Trask is very quick and efficient. He'll deal with the target in a matter of minutes."
Shrugging, Reno tucked the file into his belt. "I've always been quick on my feet."
And with that, he turned and bolted out the door, showing Hojo that he was, in fact, very quick on his feet. Reno possessed a runner's build, scrawny yet muscled, able to put power into his long legs at a moment's notice and sprint unbelievably fast.
He had to run. Get to Trask. Get to Shera. Stop what was going to happen. He glanced at the elevator and shook his head to himself. That wasn't going to happen. If Shera cut the power, he'd be stuck. Instead, he flew down the stairs, taking them two at at time, and when he was halfway down, he jumped the case, pushed off the wall, and raced down the next flight.
He didn't care if Hojo thought it suspicious that he was running down to see this, no, to stop this. He was the Commander now, and he was responsible. There were four Turks right now, whether Hojo knew it or not, and Shera was the fourth as soon as Reno had brought her into this and told her to cut the power. She was his responsibility.
I fucking hate responsibility!
Reno glanced at a wall as he raced down and saw the door to the main lobby. He crashed through it as he leaped from the stairs, immediately back into a run as he flung himself forward and into the next set of doors leading to the street.
He was already starting to feel tired, and he inwardly promised himself to quit smoking once he saved Shera from Trask. Halfway down the street to the entrance to the Underwater Reactor, Reno threw off his jacket, losing some of the wind resistance with it.
Run! Run, you idiot! You're not gonna get her killed!
His legs pumped faster, and Reno knew that if he were in some kind of marathon, he would have left all the other runners trailing in his wake. People on the street gave him odd looks as they saw the Turk bolting through their midst.
The tunnel leading to the Reactor appeared in his line of vision and disappeared almost as quickly as he raced inside, slowing only for a tenth of a second as he slammed his body into the door to the Reactor entrance. Inside was a platform elevator, but he didn't even bother with it. He ran onto the platform, and in a move of sheer foolishness that only Reno could accomplish, he dove off.
For a second, all that was between him and the floor some twenty levels down was a whole lot of air, and an elevator cable dangling to his side. Driving both his feet into a wall, and crying out in pain, he was sent towards the cable. Grabbing onto it, he slid down gracelessly. His hands burned as the wire cut into his palms, and it only slowed his descent down somewhat. Some twenty floors later, Reno crashed to the floor. He grunted. Kicking off the wall had probably sprained his ankle. Landing as he had didn't help either. Regardless, he stood up and limped as quickly as he could down the hall to the power room. He was barely concious of the lights turning off abruptly, trying to keep his mind off the pain in his legs.
Right after, the emergency lights came on, and Reno found himself just twenty feet away from the door to the power supply room. Pulling out his 'mag-rod, the Turk telescoped it out and staggered into the room.
Only to find Trask standing in the doorway, as if to leave. But the man saw the Turk, and looked at him oddly.
"What're you doing here?" the Soldier said.
"Reeve sent me down. Said you were dealing with a saboteur. I figured I'd watch, see if you're cut out to be a Turk."
The man snorted, and stepped into the light. His black hair was standing on end, and a few streams of blood coming from his nostrils and ears had caked to his skin. A large hole was blasted in his shirt, and a black spot marred his chest. "The woman is quite dead. You missed the show. Too bad. She put up a fight. I like it when they fight back."
Reno was barely aware of the man as he staggered past him and into the power supply room. Inside, the emergency lights were just flickering to life, and on the floor was Shera's dead body, a pool of blood surrounding her.
He collapsed to his knees. He didn't care if Trask saw him. Didn't care at all. He was too late. And what was it all for? Shera dead, because of him, and for what? Reeve. The real Reeve. Was his freedom worth this? Was his life worth this?
Yuffie, you better not fuck this up.