Sadistic Tendencies
By: Fantasie in D Minor
Disclaimer: I do not own FFVII or any of the sequels/prequels. All I own is the Tom and Jerry cup XD
Summary: Reno hated the rookie. It was a principle of honor; he would not be substituted by a woman. Tseng should understand that, right?... Too bad mother luck was never very gentle with the red-head.
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I thoroughly disapprove of duels. If a man should challenge me, I would take him kindly and forgivingly by the hand and lead him to a quiet place and kill him.
Mark Twain
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Swings to Chaos
Reno stumbled into his kitchen blessing absolutely everything in his path and the accursed AVALANCHE along with everything else for good measure. Perhaps some of those cordial blessing wouldn't be beneficial to repeat in this narration, but winged phrases such as "that PMSing Strife character should have his feathers ruffled…no, he should be flat out de-feathered" or "Mrs. Watermelon Boobs I-hang-off-a-psycho's-arm-24/7 should have her wonderful vocal chords cut out…no, ripped out" made their appearance numerous times. It was safe to say that Elena was more than a bit amused at the red-head's pleasurable promises of a painful death to every AVALANCHE member, wonderfully vivid descriptions of the demise of every ShinRa employee, and the most cordial wishes of an agonizing termination to all doctors on the face of the planet. In fact, Reno's especially cheerful disposition that morning dictated that life would only be worth living once every 'moron' (would the reader please forgive the brash red-head for using that derogatory term to illustrate the mental capacity of every human being to ever walk the face of the Earth) was wiped out, eliminated, murdered in the most brutal of fashions.
And what, one might logically wonder, would trigger such an uproar of a reaction? One would be rather surprised to find that Reno was set into his agreeable state of being by an innocent white, sterile strip of material. That was it! Of course, the fact that the name of that white piece of material is a bandage and the red-head had to wrap it around his painful (still open to an extent) wound on his shoulder had something to do with the dark cloud of annoyance tainting the vibrant color of the young man's hair, also.
With a beastly growl at the amusedly upturned corners of Elena's mouth, Reno marched to one of the cupboards and started rifling through the contents making sure to present an encore of a few of his favorite choice words. Certainly for those who know Reno, it would come as no surprise that the list of those aforementioned choice words is rather long; thus, the red-head spent more time cursing than actually looking for the object that seemed to have held his fancy at the moment.
"Where the fuck are you?" He mumbled out and followed the phrase up with an irritated glower. He wasn't sure why he was glaring at the middle shelf of his cupboard like an idiot, but it surely felt like a better solution than giving up on getting his cup. Yes, just like most normal people Reno had a favorite cup, which he drank coffee out of every morning. It was a navy blue color, with the picture of Tom and Jerry on the font, and a decorated handle (which looked like Tom's tale). Before you say anything—yes, Reno did watch cartoons; and—yes, his favorite cartoon of all time was Tom and Jerry. That's what happens when you have more than a dozen murders in your hazy past to back up your masculinity.
"And who, may I ask, are you so gently coaxing out of that cupboard?" Reno condensed his hands into fists and did a sharp 180 to end up face to face with the smirking Elena, who was perched on one of the barstools. The scene was supposed to play out like this: he'd scream out everything he thought about her (including nicknames such as "bimbo," "dumb blonde," "kiss-ass-rookie," "courtesan," "woman," and whatever other insult would come to mind…considering that Reno's supply of original insults almost never runs out, however, the future looked rather bleak for Elena); for her part, the blonde was supposed get upset (a.k.a. act like the stereotypical woman Reno presumed her to be), cry, run out of his house, and never show her nose at the ShinRa Headquarters again.
As wonderful as that fantasy was though, in reality nothing of the sort happened. The moment Reno turned around, his scattered, furious thoughts calmed abruptly and concentrated on an object in Elena's hands. It was navy blue, with a picture of Tom and Jerry on the front, and a decorated handle. Apparently, while waiting for the red-head to finish his shower, Elena took the liberty of making herself coffee and took Reno's favorite cup.
Sighing in relief at his beloved morning buddy's safety, Reno sank onto the barstool across form Elena, separating the duo by a wide island. For some reason his previous, homicidal thoughts vanished completely and only a faint foreboding feeling was left as a substitute. The said feeling hit him full force when he noticed a vanilla-colored folder laid out on the island in front of Elena. He sighed and glared half-heartedly at his death by boredom. Yes, it was the briefing folder. 'And let the fun begin.'
"That's my cup." If the red-head resigned himself to fate, it certainly didn't mean he wouldn't stretch time for the sake of being obnoxious. Elena rolled her eyes at the Turk across from her.
"This is your house after all. All the cups are your cups." She shrugged her shoulders and took a swig of the much needed caffeine. Hey, even her flamboyant nature needed a recharge this early in the morning. The red-head shook his head furiously.
"What I mean is that's my cup." Elena quirked an eyebrow but quickly caught up to what he was talking about.
"Not good with words in the morning, sunshine?" Reno shot a brief glance outside his window. The usual gray colors of sleepy Midgar greeted the dull aquamarine eyes.
"It's not just the morning. It's the medicine." He slurred just a little. No, the rumble with the accursed AVALANCHE wasn't cheap to the red-head's health. To lessen the pain of his injuries, he was required to take a dosage of medicine every morning. Added to his usual eccentricity, he now had painfully blatant mood swings. Elena's brain finally registered why Reno was hyped one moment and then was drowsily leaning his whole weight onto the island the next.
"Think you can stand through the briefing?" The blonde asked, a little of that motherly concern involuntarily rising in her voice, gesturing to the folder in front of her. Reno gave her a goofy grin.
"Of course! Take it away then, rookie." She gave him a nasty glare for the nickname.
"I already read it. You're the one who has to get the information." With a roll of his eyes Reno picked up the folder and flipped it open. He took out the twenty pages of text and laid them out in front of him being carefully organized. Elena could only look on in approval as he diligently studied the report. Of course, all the previous thoughts of that diligence were fast out of her mind the moment he opened his mouth.
"A murder, blah, blah, blah…downtown Midgar, blah, blah…the President's nephew, blah, blah…criminal caught and killed." He stood up piling the papers in his arms and promptly threw the whole twenty pages of Tseng's work into the trashcan. "Alright, we can leave." Elena looked at him flabbergasted. Her whole image of what a true Turk should be like was slowly crumbling. With an annoyed growl she jerked out of her seat and ran out the door after the red-head.
"You're a bastard." She noted darkly when they were already in the elevator.
"Redundancy seems to be your strong suite." Apparently the temporary paralysis of the brain that the medicine caused was already loosing its effectiveness…at Elena's expense.
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Unlike Reno, the reader would probably be more interested in finding out what exactly was outlined in that folder. Considering that twenty pages of text is a bit too much, I will try to reproduce the whole report in one paragraph for your convenience:
The victim in the murder that Reno mentioned aloud was the President's nephew. The murder itself was committed in downtown Midgar where, the reader might remember, there's a maze stretching across the length of 500 feet. Yes, the President's nephew did have black hair and ice-blue eyes, and yes, the young man was shot in the back of his head in front of one of the streetlights. His leg was bleeding, his palms were scratched up, and there were bruises and lacerations all over his body and face. The actual order from the President to Reno and Elena was outlined in such a manner:
Revenge is a sweet thing.
TBC
Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and thanks so much for the feedback! It's certainly encouraging. Special thanks to Xanthe for keeping me so motivated XD I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Please R&R, whatever your opinion may be, it's always welcomed!