Tifa's Bogus Journey

Part Six: The Reno Cliché Part One

Awesome, so, here's part six. Sorry for the delay. I switched computers and moved off to college, then I had some massive writers block on how to go about this chapter, then worried that it wasn't really funny.

And by the way, thanks for all of you who have been making suggestions of what you want to see. Reno's going to end up as a two-parter, but after that, I'll go check the reviews to see what some of you guys have asked for. Anyhow, if you submitted 'Stupid OC names' to tickle my fancy, I'll write you a little one-shot, I guess. Just let me know what you want to see, and it'll be done (though most likely in a sarcastic manner).

I only own the plot, and our strangely platonic friend, 'Greg'. Who's still around, because he's polite and punctual. It's all in good fun; no insults are intended, except to clichés.

...........

"So, that went rather nicely, huh? No major crap-ups." Tifa grinned indulgently as she raised a bottle of beer to her lips, taking a long swig of the crisp, bitter tasting liquid, glancing over at her rather unlikely partner in crime, who was glowering sulkily over his shoulder at her while he fixed the hinges of the front door, surrounded by various power tools, a pile of sawdust, and more band-aid wrappers than there would have been if anyone had bothered to help 'Jim-Jam' and patch up her injuries.

"If you're not talking about grabbing a door that wasn't even close to being the right size, then yeah, I guess there were no major crap-ups." He replied flatly, checking his handiwork on the lower hinge, before laboriously pulling himself up, a series of tiny pops sounding in his back as he cracked his spine to try and ease the tension that had built up in it from staying in a hunched over position for so long as he worked on re-sizing their pilfered door so that it would fit into the doorway.

He was tired and cranky as Hell, but he dare not complain, as she still had that blowtorch with her. And the way it was just sitting there on the bar top, black canister gleaming maliciously at him in the low, neon-splashed lighting, well, he wasn't going mouth off to Tifa about him having to do all of the work, despite the fact that almost all of the excess he had cut off from the door was now lodged deeply and painfully beneath his skin.

Geez. I mean, really, why did she have to take that back with her anyway?

In a way, he sort of wished that 'Jim-Jam' was still around, and not possibly incapacitated forever. Well, he wished she was around, but, y'know, maybe without a larynx. And with a bag over her head. And with no eyeholes cut into the bag. And staying at least twenty feet away from him at all times.....

.....And maybe he didn't want her back. Unless it was for her to make him seem less abhorrently obnoxious by comparison. She could make anybody seem not obnoxious by comparison.

Except for maybe one man.....

'Greg' was smacked out of his contemplative streak as the door slammed open suddenly, catching him in the side of the head and shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground, face down in a mound of sawdust.

Hearing his pitiful squawk of pain, Tifa turned, quickly downing the rest of her beer before running into a possible battle. After all, she was feeling surly enough as it was. Why not be drunk as well? Y'know, being a bar-tender, and not even the legal drinking age, why the Hell not, huh?

But she stopped halfway in her loping dash towards the door, coming up short in a half-crouch, beer bottle clutched loosely in her right hand, left curled into a loose fist, expecting one of those standard random thugs to come along; perhaps beat the crap out of her despite her being a trained martial artist and all.

Or perhaps it was that occasional rapist. If that were the case, she'd certainly just give up and be handily overpowered. At least maybe then Cloud would come to the hospital and pay some attention to her. 'Cause after all, he had just been so distant and broody lately and even though she had tried and tried, she-

-Aw, shit.

Something was obviously coming up, because there she went with the broody internal dialogue about Cloud again. Crap.

And a half.

Though she looked at the new arrival swaggering and staggering his way into the bar, and forced herself to very deliberately set down her beer bottle, lest she end up smashing it against his skull in exasperation.

Reno..... Why in all God's name had she picked the Reno 'fic to pop up next?!

.....Oh, right. Because there were only about five billion of them in circulation.

No problem. She knew this shit hard-core. Knew it like it was a Tifa-Cloud 'fic. But she still kind of wanted to hit him with that beer bottle.

Perhaps later, because right then-

He swaggered past her up to the bar, and she glanced over at 'Greg', seeing him glancing murderously at Reno, spitting futilely to clear the sawdust from his mouth, shaking his fist.

She made a shooing motion to try and clear him out, biting her lip and shrugging in apology, before running, shoving past Reno, vaulting over the bar and slamming against the liquor rack, jarring it with her shoulder, unable to stop her momentum so quickly, causing the whole wall full of bottles to wobble ominously, though they stayed in place, leaving Tifa with an aching shoulder and severely dour mood.

So much for her famed grace and poise. If she was smacking into things and the like, maybe he wouldn't start musing over how graceful she was. And without her 'enhancements', he probably wouldn't find his eyes riveted to her 'shapely, voluptuous' figure. Oh, she could only hope.....

"Say babe, what'll it take to get a drink here?" He asked in his oh-so-smooth-oh-so-suave voice, which was unaffected despite his years and years of endless chainsmoking, as it was practically par for the course for him to always have a cigarette dangling from that incredibly foul mouth of his. Even when there was a No Smoking sign.

.....Especially when there was a No Smoking sign.

Oh, you fucking Mack Daddy you.....

"I'm sorry. The bar's c....." Oh no, no, no. She couldn't use that old tactic again. Well, she probably could, but she'd be getting nowhere fast. "Uh..... that is to say..... the bar has been converted into a Nuclear Testing Zone. Everything has become Radioactive, and I'm sure I've developed leukemia and all sorts of horrible malignant tumors, and my hair's going to start falling out, and all sorts of horrible stuff. So you might want to get out of here while you still can."

.....Oh. Good one Tifa.

Reno glanced at her sideways for a moment, brow furrowing in utter confusion. But then he gave her a quick once over, a sly, lecherous grin spreading over his face.

"Well, you think you might get some cancerous tumors growing on your chest anytime soon? You're looking a little flat there, hon."

.....Oh.

.....Zinger.

Tifa clenched her teeth and slowly stretched her arm out towards the blow torch, trying to be inconspicuous about it, keeping her eyes on him, lips twisting down in a scowl.

"Dude I'm serious! The Geiger Counter was through the roof!"

Reno shrugged it off, shaking his head.

"Ah well. Can I still get a drink? For free? Because I know that you'll initially refuse to give me a freebie, but then, eventually, I'll get a free drink and possibly a roll in the hay. Heh? Heh?" He tried hopefully, nudging her in the ribs, eyebrows up suggestively.

Tifa, on the other hand, wasn't biting, and snatched up the blowtorch, lighting it up in one quick motion, grabbing Reno by the collar of his ever-present blue suit coat, rumpling it further than it normally was, cranking up the flame and shoving it in close to his face.

"I said the Geiger Counter is through the roof!" She snarled, and Reno swallowed heavily, eyes widening as the flame was jabbed dangerously close to his eye.

"Okay, okay. Geiger Counter. I get it." He muttered, nodding hastily, trying to push backwards out of her grasp, sweat trickling down his forehead.

He didn't know what was up. Normally he was bangin' her on the bar top by now, not nearly getting his eye lit on fire.

Tifa relaxed and let him go, turning off the blowtorch and setting it back down. The crisis wasn't averted however, as Reno seemed to have no intentions of leaving anytime soon. She stared at him in silence, tapping her foot slowly, waiting. She started waving her hand in a shooing motion, expectant.

But Reno still sat there, fixing his sunglasses, making no moves to leave anytime soon. Couldn't the guy take a fucking hint?

"So, really, what's with this place becoming a Nuclear Testing Zone? I didn't realize Junon had much going in the way of Nuclear Technology." He started, wary yet casual, as if trying to strike up a normal conversation with her, as if it'd help him get on her good side.

Though maybe he still could. After all, Tifa was insanely forgiving of people that had tried to kill her in the past. And besides, she was so unbearably lonely not being in touch with any of the other AVALANCHE members in months. And after Cloud walked out on her to go dig up Aerith's corpse and give it some thoroughly unwholesome lovin', she could probably put up with an obnoxious, slovenly Turk.

But first, she had to figure out what in the bloody fuck he was talking about. She was in Nibelheim for cripes sake.....

.....Wasn't she?

Tifa paused, turning towards him slowly, eyebrows furrowed down, lips pressed together in a little line.

"Junon?" She asked skeptically, claret eyes squinting even further, as if she could peer inside his head and ascertain just where the Hell he was getting these ideas from. "What do you mean Junon?"

Reno squinted back at her in an almost dead-on imitation of her gob-smacked expression, as if trying to peer into her head and see where she was getting these ideas from.....

.....Or maybe he was just trying to look down her shirt.

But either way, they had one another handily flummoxed.

And Reno was pretty sure she was pronouncing 'Nuclear' wrong. But hey, nobody was perfect. Well, except for himself. In his own mind. On alternate Tuesdays.

"Yeah. Junon. It's where I've been hanging out since you guys toppled Shinra. Just kind of hangin' out, wishin' for the good ol' days. Which actually weren't so good when you think about it. But everyone's still afraid of me because I used to be a Turk, and because of that, gainful employment isn't exactly easy to come by. Not that I really care. I haven't really cared in a long, long time. Not after that whole....." He trailed off, sighing, making a vague allusion to one of the hazy, angsty situations of his past, which had most likely shaped him and caused him to become the man he now was.

And Tifa really, really didn't want to have to deal with that sort of thing.

But first, she had to find out what he meant by Junon. Hopping over the bar, she made her way to the new door, pulling it open, peering out, hair immediately being whipped up and around by the gusting windstorm, howling along the bleak gray concrete stretch of the waterfront. Waves crashed noisily against the breakers, salty spray splashing up over the railing, the salty air settling coldly into her lungs. An old tattered banner with the name Rufus scrawled across it in big gold letters was flapping noisily in the stiff wind, at the base of where the Mako Cannon had once been.

She blanched, scrambling backwards and shutting the door, sagging with her back against it, sighing heavily, glowering at the back of Reno's head, feeling suddenly childish and petulant.

Oh, COME ON!

Was it really that often that this set-up came around? Junon sucked! She'd much rather have her fine establishment set up in a sham ghost town than deal with this scenario again. It wouldn't be so bad if they were anywhere else.

Hopefully, Tifa turned, pulling the door open again, glancing out, faced with a quiet quaint setting, ground paved with blue cobblestones, houses all in deep, subdued shades, clock tower set in the middle of the town square.

Yeah, it was definitely past closing time. And she was definitely even less thrilled with the whole switch to her owning an establishment in Kalm.

When Reno chose to waltz in and romance her, couldn't it be done anywhere other than Junon or Kalm?

Of course, if it were one of those 'Desperate-for-a-break-Tifa-goes-on-vacation-to-Wutai-or-Costa-del-Sol-and-happens-across-Reno-there' stories, she could be hanging out somewhere other than Junon or Kalm.

Gads.

Well, that settled it. If Reno was going to perpetuate their stereotypical meetings by constantly coming in and asking for free booze after closing time and trying to worm his way into her heart in doing so, she was going to give him what-for!

But what could she do that would indeed 'give him what-for'?

She glanced around for a minute or two, before lighting on 'Greg', who was huddled in a corner with a pile of bloodied safety pins and tweezers, wrapped in bloodied gauze, trying to dig all the splinters out from under his skin. A half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol was near his feet, next to a pile of alcohol-soaked cotton balls.

Well, that'd do.

She made her way back to the bar, scooping up the bottle of rubbing alcohol, heedless of 'Greg''s sputter of protest. He needed to disinfect his numerous wounds! He couldn't bear to become gangrenous again, not after all his time being, y'know, not gangrenous.

Tifa hopped over the bar again, and grabbed a glass, pouring the clear liquid into it, sliding it over to Reno with a half-apologetic smile.

"Well, I guess we could....." She paused, lost in thought for a moment ".....Hey, what are we always trying to do in this situation? Come to an understanding or something?"

"Well, normally, I'm just trying to get laid..... but I think we're supposed to be, like, trying to make amends or something sappy and kind-hearted like that."

"Oh. Well, whatever, here, have a drink. For free. To..... kick off our fledgling friendship or whatever." She shrugged, winking at him.

Reno's eyes lit up, and he grabbed the shot, immediately downing it, before tipping over backwards from the stool, hands to his throat, choking and gagging as the liquid burned its way through his mouth and down his throat. He was also pretty sure he was going blind from it.

Tifa leaned over the bar, her scarf dangling down slightly, grinning and laughing, face split in a wide cheerful grin.

"There! Hope you enjoyed your free drink, 'bestest pal o' mine'!" She chirped as he laboriously climbed to his feet, coughing and choking, eyes watering from the vile stuff.

"What the fuck was that?!" He demanded, shaking his head to try and clear it, face twisted up in displeasure, mouth burning.

"Rubbing alcohol." She shrugged as he sat back down, still gagging from ingesting the toxic substance.

"Well, at least it was alcohol..... I guess." He managed to wheeze, retching a little bit.

He leaned against the bar, shaking his head, shaking slightly, eyes watering. He quickly wiped them on his jacket sleeve, tears leaving a dark stain on the navy fabric. He choked slightly, a little bit of bile coming up, staining the jacket sleeve as well.

Tifa tucked some hair back behind her ear, nose crinkling in disgust.

"That's horrible." She winced, shaking her head and indicating the deplorable nature of his outfit. "I mean, ugh, don't you have any other outfits? That thing is coated in blood and rot, smells like stale booze and smoke, and has stains all over the sleeves from you wiping your face on them, your shirt is missing half the buttons, your shoes aren't even tied, and if you pull your hair out of that ponytail, you have a mullet! That's just..... how can you get by looking like that?!" She cut in disgustedly.

"Dude. Nobody messes with the Turks."

"We took Shinra down years ago, and the Turks disbanded, Reno! Why do you insist on wearing that suit?!"

There. She'd finally gotten around to asking that question. The one that had been nagging at the back of her mind forever. He always paraded around in that fucking thing. And if not that, then something eerily close. Sometimes it'd be a black suit; or black leather; or some sort of darkly colored ensemble. And he'd still be a slobbish loser.

And, as was the usual, he was probably unemployed.

Oh Reno, I can see why all the ladies are all over you. Rawr.

Reno shrugged, feeling like some of his innards had shut down from those shots he just took.

Yes, shots. As in, a shot of Rubbing Alcohol, and that terribly crushing shot to his ego. He wasn't quite sure which one left him reeling harder.

"Look babe, my sloppy nature only adds to my unexpected animal magnetism. Ladies just seem to find me irresistible. Besides, we're stuck in existential fanfic limbo. We never change our clothes."

"I did." She shot back immediately, indicating her awesome new duds.

Reno shrugged, waving her comment off.

"Well, chicks dig the suit. Like I said, they find me irresistible."

Tifa rolled her eyes, snorting derisively.

"I'm sure STDs find you irresistible as well." She muttered, shaking her head.

He seemed to consider it for a moment, then opened his mouth to deny it. However, he paused, closing his mouth and glancing towards the ceiling, eyes narrowing in thought as he ticked numbers off silently on his hand, lips pursed. He paused, subtracting one, before stopping, then adding two more. Finally giving up on his counting, he shook his head, defiant.

"Okay, so maybe a had a few.....dozen..... STDs in my life, but that doesn't mean anything. I'm still cool and suave. I..... well, I do have these Syphilis scars on my face, but that doesn't..... I mean I don't..... I didn't....." Reno trailed off, eyes crinkling at the corners as his eyes welled up with tears, before tears started leaking from his eyes, Reno letting out a pathetic little squeak as he hid his face an his mussed sleeves, rolling his head back and forth to try and stifle the sobs that had come upon him so suddenly.

Tifa just stood there in shocked, silent horror at seeing him cry. Feeling a bit nauseated as his already off the wall characterization took a severe U-Turn at some point.

OOC?

Heavy, bitter tears?

That could only mean one thing.....

Something she had said must have set him off, and now, Reno's terribly convoluted and angst-riddled past was going to come back in full force like a beaker of Sulfuric Acid to the groin, and she was the only one there to coddle him.

But really, what had finally gotten to him, causing this overly-dramatic breakdown?

She hoped it hadn't been the comment about the Geiger Counter.

Because that one had been pure gold.

END SIX

Whoo! Geiger Counter! Well kids, that's probably the first (and last) time anybody will ever use that term in an FF7 'fic. If there is one out there containing the term 'Geiger Counter', I'd honestly be shocked. Shocked and appalled.

Next chapter: The cliché keeps on a rollin', as Reno's past comes back full force. Psychotic ex-wife?! Dead child?! Horrible sex abuse scandal with the higher-ups in the Shinra organization?! God awful past as a Slum Punk?! Forced to get by as a male prostitute?!

Who knows?!

.....Who cares?!