Chapter Two: Revenge is a Dish Best Served with Everclear

Captain Cid Highwind was currently too pissed off to think straight. Pissed off and scared – though he wouldn't have admitted it. Dead things never exactly jived with him; he'd even left the hand in his bedroom.

Fuck all it was Shera's hand…

No one in town would have done that, everyone in Rocket Town all but adored Shera. Who wouldn't… dammit, why was his vision getting blurry? Cid rubbed the back of his hand along his eyes and ignored the damp feeling on the back of it.

He'd have to find someone who WOULD be capable of hurting someone like her. So, off he went to the bar, it doubled as a hotel, and anyone who wasn't from the town would have to be there at that time of night.

The bar didn't seem particularly busier than usual, but it wasn't exactly dead either. There were the regulars, sitting at the one table near the back, where they could watch the residents and visitors without too much trouble. They were also the most sober... gossip mongers that Cid didn't really care for. But they might have information.

So, wiping his eyes quick again, he strode up to them. They all knew, feared, and respected him, so he didn't expect much of a fuss. He stood right next to the leader, a rat-like man with a lisp, and glared down on him.

"Have you seen any... outsiders, lately?" he asked between clenched teeth. He absolutely hated chattery people like these... he felt almost dirty querying them.

"Not that wef seen..." the man replied, incisors overlapping his lower lip momentarily, "Except... maybeth that one." He pointed towards the actual bar counter, far across the room. There was a man on the end, who looked a little too clean to be a pilot or mechanic, and a little too scruffy to be a businessman.

He almost looked familiar.

He gave them no more than a quick nod as he left; he'd gotten what he wanted, and no longer wished to be in their presence. It didn't take him long to cross the steadily filling room, and he noticed that he was tensing a bit. He considered punching the man's lights out unless he recognized him... and if it was someone he recognized for a bad reason, he wouldn't hesitate.

He tapped the man on the shoulder.

The man's voice was a tenor, and Cid didn't need to have him turn all the way around to know exactly who he had tapped on the shoulder. Emmerson Reeve, ex-Turk, ex-ShinRa exec, and ex-two timing traitor. What the HELL was he doing in Cid's town?

"Please leave me alone…" He didn't turn around.

"Leave you alone?" Cid replied, clenching his fist, "I'll leave you alone... and bleeding in a fucking dumpster unless you tell me right now what the fucking hell you're doing in my town!"

Reeve spun around, the calm, happy, almost nerdy look was gone from his face. This was the Reeve that Cid met years before either of them had been execs in ShinRa. Dark, calculating, and Turk, Reeve glared at him. "I'm not-" he stressed – "in the mood, Highwind."

"The fuck do I care what gods damned mood you're in?" Cid answered, leaning in a bit so that he could be at eye level with the man, "I asked you a gods damned question! Not like my life's been fucking roses, so I'd appreciate if you didn't get all high and mighty with me!"

Reeve snarled at him, his hand going to his hip out of instinct. When he realized that his gun was in his room, Reeve's fist clenched. "Last. Warning. Highwind." He hissed.

"What, are you going to send your little shit toy after me?" Cid smirked at his own cleverness. He didn't really care that it was bad to taunt a Turk... even an ex one. But he was drunk on his own adrenaline, and feeling particularly bold.

Besides, he was on a mission.

The bar stool clattered to the ground as Reeve stood. Nose to nose, Cid could smell the beer on the other man's breath. He could see the mako glow, even for Reeve's dark eyes. Both were things that called back to a time long before that spike headed kid showed up at Cid's doorstep.

"You are lucky I left my gun upstairs or you'd be breathing through a hole in your lungs." The soft tenor voice lost none of the "Turk" edge.

"I've already got holes in my gods damned lungs," Cid retorted, standing back up straighter and crossing his arms, "Fucking cigarettes do a better job than you could. So, are ya here just to piss me off, Toy Boy?"

It was then that Reeve reminded Cid of one more little detail. Turks were FAST. In a swift movement, Reeve was beside him, a knee firmly planted in the pilot's gut. Cid's hands gripped the other man's leg, but Reeve used this as leverage. His other foot struck Cid directly in the back of his shoulders, flipping him into the bar with force.

Cid grunted as he hit the bar. He glanced quickly around, hoping that the spots in his vision would clear. The toymaker hadn't let up on his training... Cid hadn't counted on that. Then again, Reeve didn't count on the beer bottle that came crashing over his head. Cid gave the man who was now without a beer a nod before elbowing Reeve hard while he was momentarily dazed.

After running a hand through beer soaked hair, Cid flicked it at the ex Turk. "You wanna fight or are we gonna-" He was going to add in "Play your damned assassin acrobatic games" or something witty. However, with a rather feral growl, Reeve was already tackling him OVER the bar. Cid's still sore back connected with the cement behind the bar and the air rushed from his lungs. Once again Cid's vision blurred-

When he could see he had just enough time to roll backwards to his feet, avoiding the heel of Reeve's boot by mere inches.

Grabbing the first thing in his reach- a bottle of Everclear- Cid swung once again at the oncoming Turk's- screw calling him an ex-Turk- head. It shattered on Reeve's elbow when he lifted his arm to block the blow. With a hiss of pain, Reeve jumped backward.

Cid pulled out his lighter with a smirk. "You still smoke, Turk?"

Reeve said nothing; he rocked side to side and watched the Zippo intently.

"Now, answer my GODS damned question." He flipped the Zippo open.

Reeve opened his mouth to answer, but then his eyes moved to the side. He mouthed one word "duck".

Cid growled at him, debating on if this was a trick or not. He wasn't given much time to think on the matter, Reeve dropped to the ground and Cid was soon to follow. Though Cid's journey to the floor was far less graceful as it was more on account of a leg sweep then on his own accord. The lighter fell from his grasp and landed on the alcohol soaked bar. The wooden item caught like thousand year old timber.

Even for the flames and once AGAIN being on his back, Cid took note of the little red dot that danced where his head had been. It would have been remiss not to notice that the bottle that should be where the little dot danced was shattered and rained down on him and Reeve.

Great, the fucker saved his ass…. Dammit.