Chapter Four: Directly After.
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Reno sat on the ground, blood pouring from his nose, his lip, and both his cheekbones. He panted, gripping the carpet with his fingertips, feeling every part of him scream in pain. He stared, wild-eyed, at the still form of his father, who lay bleeding on the ground, unconscious and breathing roughly.
The boy inched forward on his hands and knees, his brain splitting apart with the comprehension of what had just happened and what he should do next. "Run, run, run, he'll be mad when he wakes up, they'll be mad when they catch me," he whispered to himself, but he couldn't make himself move. He kept inching forward, until he was right next to his father. He lowered himself to the ground painfully, embracing his father's still form. "Reno loves you, daddy. Reno loves you. Reno is so sorry. Please be okay." He stood shakily, and limped heavily towards the door. He closed the it carefully behind him.
Grasping the thin metal rail of the entry stairs with his good hand, he hopped down on one foot, one stair at a time, ignoring the shocks of pain from his ribs every time that he landed. He made it to the bottom and leaned on the rail, panting. A moment later, he was moving again. He followed the side alley for as long as he could, then ducked behind some buildings, navigating the slums carefully until he found a warehouse he knew the thugs didn't use. At the corner of the road that ran beside it, there stood a blue payphone—he staggered over and dug in his pockets until he found the money he hadn't spent on lunch.
"Hello, emergency services. What is the nature of your emergency?"
"There's an injured man in apartment B, building 201, West 21st street, sector three. He's been beaten badly."
"We're sending someone now. Are you at the scene now? What is your name, young man?"
"I can't… I… Just send someone, please!" he hung up the phone and winced as his knee gave out. He fell back against the payphone, then slid to the ground. Disgusted by the smell of urine and old gum, he forced himself back up on his good leg and staggered back to the warehouse door. He jiggled the doorknob and found it unlocked—much to his relief, as he didn't think he could manage the window. He limped in and closed the door quietly, giving his eyes time to adjust to the dim light.
The police impound warehouse, Rude exclaimed mentally. Damn Reno, I'd have never thought of that.
That was very clever, Toriko admitted. No one would look in the police warehouse for a run-away. Especially if he'd just called the police. And it's too close to his home to be expected.
That's probably why it took a week to find him.
Reno slept in the backseat of an impounded car, using whatever he could find to mop up the blood from his injuries and to wrap his hand and left leg. He spent most of the week in a great deal of pain, stealing donuts and left-overs from the mini-fridge in the warehouse office. The injury to his chest and the loss of blood took their toll, and the last few days were spent curled up, shivering, coughing up blood, and hallucinating. He would have been found dead, if his residence hadn't been scheduled for the police auction the next Tuesday. A cop had gotten in the car and started it up before he noticed the sick child in the backseat. After a great deal of freaking out, he and another officer transferred him to a squad car and sped to the nearest hospital, lights on and siren blasting. By then, Reno was paranoid, terrified, and delirious. No one could get him to speak; he lashed out at anyone who tried to touch him, and cried pitifully whenever restrained.
That's how I was when I found him, Rude confirmed.
Reno's memory of meeting Rude was far different than Rude's memory of meeting Reno. In the sick child's nearly-schizophrenic mind, there was nothing but shapes of darkness in a too-bright environment. Shadows larger than himself approached with unknown weapons or distorted, frightening hands, reaching out to do harm. He fought and he fought and he fought, unable to make sense of his world or what was happening to him. Until a great, solid shadow with shiny eyes and two great, white wings approached him. At first, he had been as afraid of the new shade as he had been of the others. He struggled against the strange force that was holding him down, absolutely certain that this new figure was going to harm him. His fractured mind was still waiting for blows to rain down on him.
The figure knelt next to him for a moment, speaking a language he didn't understand. Then it stood, and turned to leave. Reno was about to relax, when it hesitated and turned again, then produced a strange object from its pocket. The figure knelt again and presented it, and Reno's world of hallucinations shattered, leaving behind a hospital room, a strange man, pain, fear, and a reminder that he may have killed the only person on the planet he loved.
All was pain and silence for a few moments. Reno whimpered as all warmth left him. He suddenly felt the driving need to stop breathing, so he did. He could only stare as the strange man held out his arms—for what? What was this strange man's intention?
Then suddenly his world was all warmth and safety and a strong embrace and the other man's tears in his hair. He leaned into the warmth and wrapped his hands around the starched white shirt, crying and shaking with fear and despair. He wanted so badly for the man hugging him to be his father, for everything to be alright. He wanted the feeling of safety to never stop, but he knew that the stranger would let go and disappear, because he didn't love him—no one loved him, he was just some crack-ho's brat, and now he didn't even have a father. He shook and cried and cried and shook until he fell into the deep slumber of exhaustion, and wanting his daddy.
I snapped the bastard's neck. Rude observed. I… right then… Reno wanted me to be his father?
Not exactly… I think he just wished his father did for him what you did then, Toriko replied quietly.
Rude seemed a little disappointed. How does a creature exist that still, even after all that, can still love someone that fiercely?
Reno's kinda special like that, I guess. Toriko mentally noted this, remembering to her own encounter with her father—interrupted by Rufus. Probably for the better. Do I love father like that? I suppose I don't.
He wanted his father, and I snapped the man's neck. I thought I was doing him a favour.
You were, she answered, forwarding through his memories in an attempt to escape the overwhelming anguish of the current scene. He just didn't know it. He already thought he had killed his father, so the news that his father had been murdered in his hospital bed was more of a comfort that you'll ever know. And you spared him the awkwardness of a child abuse trial, and possibly going back to his father.
I suppose you're right. Rude paused, then growled. And it was so. Fucking. Satisfying. To snap that man's neck. It's probably the only kill I've ever felt good about.
Toriko shifted awkwardly. Good to know, I guess. They… put him in a home?
Shinra had him placed in some serious therapy, and that involved a short stay in a facility for disturbed children. Only about six months. Then we put him in the home of a retired Shinra employee so we could keep tabs on him and make sure he got what he needed.
Toriko examined the memory a little more closely. No… after the asylum… You put him in the home of a retired Turk
…True. Rude confirmed.
You put him in a gun shop.
Retired Turks can only do so much. And it's not often that Turks live long enough to retire. The man's talents lay in fighting and shooting, so he opened a gun shop after he retired.
You put a mentally unstable young man in a gun shop, Toriko repeated.
I don't hear any better ideas out of you, missy, Rude twitched.
…Gun. Shop.
Shut up.
The apartment upstairs from the gun shop was small, but warm. Coryel Thomas lived there with his wife; both of them were rough but caring individuals, and Mrs. Thomas declared it her life's work to stick some decent grub to Reno's ribs. Reno had no objections, as Mrs. Thomas's cooking was better than anything he had ever eaten, even if the meal was just a sandwich and chips. Coryel Thomas was blunt, to-the-point, and rarely had time for anything but maintaining the shop. He provided weapons to the Turks and sometimes filled other orders for Shinra.
For the first couple of years, they kicked Reno through the public education system. Reno was smarter than what the system was used to, though, and quickly proved as much to Coryel. Upon delivering straight As and recommendations for college-level courses, Reno proved the system absolutely worthless and earned Coryel's permission to drop out. At the age of fourteen, he spent most of his time hanging around the slums, making friends, making enemies, picking fights, and sometimes doing a little dealing to help out his adoptive family. He felt he had to pull his weight.
Coryel didn't mind, as long as Reno didn't piss off any gangs or actually start taking the drugs he sold, but Mrs. Thomas disapproved—vocally. Eventually, she threatened Coryel with a no-sex strike unless he employed Reno in some other fashion. Coryel folded, and employed him in his gun shop, making deliveries and taking orders. Eventually, Coryel left the main part of the shop's business to Reno, and concentrated on the smithing. Rude, in his periodic check-ups, had been disturbed by this.
I thought Reno was supposed to be getting an education and applying to colleges and shit. He's a smart kid, he had a lot of potential; he could probably be in the science department, not the Turks.
Toriko nodded. You know, I never really pegged him as the booksmart type.
That's cause he's a total asshole sometimes. He's kind of an angry kid.
He seems to have had just cause.
I told Coryel to educate him, Rude insisted.
Coryel had educated him. He trained him in compliance techniques, hand-to-hand combat, how to care for and use a gun, basic fire arm maintenance, mixing, rigging, and applying explosives, laundering money, evading taxes, computer networks, computer hacking, hiding evidence, electrical booby-trapping, sharp-shooting, and botany.
Botany? Toriko raised a mental eyebrow.
Extremely useful, Rude assured her.
…okay. If you say so.
Reno was having the time of his life. When business was slow, he and his adoptive guardian would go out back and wrestle each other to the ground or shoot pigeons from the rooftop. Mrs. Thomas didn't seem to object to those activities—often enough, she brought them breakfast on the roof and watched them shoot, cheering them on.
Until the break-in.
Who the hell holds up a gun-shop? Toriko scoffed, almost disbelieving.
Rude was guiltily silent for a moment, then admitted, People I hire.
You hired people to rob the gun-shop of a fellow Turk and his family.
…Yes. It was supposed to be a training exercise for Reno. Coryel knew about it in advance and everything. It… it was a freak accident.
Toriko shivered.