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2. Rod: Turk

The skin on the back of Rod's neck rippled. The air in this part of Sector Six tasted bitter and so dry it excavated his head. Coughing into his fist as a distraction, he flicked his gaze round and confirmed his suspicions. They were being watched.

The kid in the alley ducked out of sight before Rod could get a proper look at his face. Rod squinted at the crowd around him, wondering whether it was worth cutting through them to follow. All he had to go on was a gut feeling, which wouldn't have been enough to convince Veld that he had just cause to get side-tracked from today's assignment. However, Rod put a lot of faith in gut feelings; plus Veld wasn't around to chew him out anymore. Tseng wouldn't like it, but he wasn't the chewing out kind –

"Hey, Rod." Fingers snapped in front of his face. "Ground Control to Rodriguez. Come in, Rodriguez."

"Quit it." He pushed the hand away. "Get outta my face, Naifu."

"Well someone fell out the wrong side of the bed this morning." Naifu barely came up to his shoulder, but when she was pissed you knew about it. Right now she wasn't, but she wasn't pleased either. "Keep your head in the game. You've been jumpier than Reno trying to sit down after a three-bean burrito ever since we came down here. What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that." She inclined her head at him. "Is it me? We aren't usually partnered together, but I didn't think going on an assignment with me was that bad." She theatrically sniffed her armpits and shook her head. "Nope. Clean as a whistle. And I'm not sniffing anywhere else while we're in public. It would completely ruin the Ruthless Hard-Nosed Turk image I've got going."

Rod snorted. Naifu looked as ruthless and hard-nosed as a pixie. Fey-like and slender, with a clumsiness that usually made the room erupt with laughter when she landed on her ass, you'd never know she was the deadliest knife-thrower Veld ever recruited. Her entire personality was too playful to match the reputation of the Turks, but she stuck to the most important rule Veld had drummed into them from their first day: Turks always got the job done. Veld being gone now didn't change that.

She punched Rod in the shoulder. He didn't even sway. "Don't diss me!"

"I'm not dissing you, ditz."

"I am not a ditz!" She frowned, following his flickering gaze. "You are acting way weird, though. What's up?"

"I told you; nothing."

Her frown deepened. A pensive looked crossed her face. "Which Sector did you used to live in?"

He didn't look down at her. "Six."

"Oh crap."

"It's fine. Let's move it before we're late. Don Corneo's probably waiting for us."

"Hardly. That fat gut likes to keep us waiting, no matter what time we arrive. It really winds Tan up –" She stopped. The reason they had been partnered together today rose like a hidden rake she had stepped on. Her chin dropped onto her chest as she walked.

Rod stuck his hands deep in his pockets. They all had pasts, which they talked about with varying degrees of reticence. For all her light-heartedness, the quickest way to make Naifu clam up was to ask about the life she used to lead in Old Corel before she became a Turk. He talked about his motorcycle gang only slightly more.

Tan had been one of Corneo's bodyguards before he was a Turk. It was why, after Veld got Corneo's assassins to back off the guy for deserting, Tan had been put on Sector Six detail as a show of good faith. Don Corneo traded information with Shinra's administrative department, but the relationship was tenuous at best. He demonstrated he was on the level by not killing Tan whenever he and his partner were sent to Wall Market to collect from him. Shinra paid for Corneo's services, but reminded him who was really in charge by parading The One Who Got Away at every opportunity.

That is, until Tan got himself killed while searching for another deserter: Genesis Rhapsodos.

Veld always taught his Turks not to get too attached to each other and not to linger over death – death they made happen, death they found while on the job, or any death that shrank their own ranks. Nevertheless, you got attached to your partner – or at least the person you were partnered with most. Reno and Rude were the prime example of when it worked. Helena and Richie, too. Tan and Naifu hadn't been partners for long, but they'd been headed the road of Successful Match-Up when Tan was sent out after the runaway SOLDIER with a newbie who was such a hit with the ladies he was known only as The Player. Neither of them came back. It had hit Naifu hardest, though she hid it well.

Rod and Tan hadn't been friends. Rod wasn't really friends with anyone. He had abandoned the people he called friends when Veld offered him a place in the Turks. Rodriguez Motero grew up in Midgar and fought his way from cradle to adulthood. He fought to survive, to get respect, to keep lowlifes off his back and to get to the top when he joined a gang that shared his love of motorcycles. Until he joined the Rage Riders he had been fine on his own. Then he got to know what it was like when people had your back, and realised he kind of liked it. Almost as much as he liked being the best at whatever he did. Yet when it came down to it, being the best had won out over the gang-mates who called him friend.

And leader.

He wasn't proud of leaving, but after he tried to rob Shinra and Reno caught him, Rod had received the worst thrashing of his life. He had known then that he had to better himself any way he could. The humiliation was total. There was no other option; not for him. If he was to regain any dignity, he had to recover from that humiliation in his own way.

He had told the gang he was leaving to get stronger. He hadn't just run out on them without a word. He had even placed his second in charge. Alejandro was a good guy, with all the right qualities to be a good leader. He was tough and he knew Sector Six. Moreover, he knew how to survive there. Even so, as Rod walked out the door of their pad, he had known even that the burning between his shoulder-blades meant nothing good. The feeling of being followed now made it worse. He had upped his game a lot since he was eighteen, so he figured he could whoop the ass of anyone who tried something. Punk kids from a Midgar slum were nothing compared to the scum he had faced since joining up.

"That's the fourth time I've seen that boy," Naifu said pleasantly. Did nothing get this kid down? "I think we're being tailed. And by someone who's really, really bad at it. Too young to be one of Don Corneo's flunkies, but he has tatts."

A lot of Corneo's employees were recruited from gangs, and so still carried the facial tattoos that had marked their loyalties. Tan had been a gang member before he was tempted onto Corneo's payroll. His wild shock of dark hair and the black stripe down his cheek had made him a distinctive face in Shinra's corridors. Rumour had it that his rivalry with Reno stemmed from Reno being pissed that the mystique about his own tatts had been ruined when Tan arrived and explained what they were for.

Tatts. Well that was a relief. At least that meant it wasn't a Rage Rider following them. Rod had resisted the tattoo thing, he said at the time because it made you a target the moment you hit the street. Later he wondered whether he had just been keeping his options open to leave with the least amount of fuss. If you wore tatts you were a gangbanger for life. If you didn't, you could be anything. You could keep reinventing yourself without the vestiges of your old life holding you back.

You could take off a suit easier than you could remove a tattoo. Would he leave the Turks someday? If a better offer came along, maybe; but that was a dangerous mental boulevard, and one he didn't need to stroll down right now. For the moment the Turks were right for him, and he was right for them. He'd be the best Turk he could be, or die trying. He had to be the best.

Naifu had one fist bunched. That meant she had palmed a miniature knife from her stash. Rod wondered where she kept them all. That tiny body didn't offer much room for weaponry, but she never seemed to run out.

"We're here," he muttered. They had reached the Honeybee. Time to go to work.

"Oh goody." Naifu pulled a face. "I just lurrrrve starting my day by being ogled. Although …" She looked speculatively at Rod. "Maybe with you here Corneo will keep his paws to himself. I had to waste a perfectly good throwing needle shattering the light to make him stop last time. He thought it was an electrical surge, but it was actually just to stop Tan doing something stupid. He got some weird ideas about honour and girls sometimes." For a nanosecond her expression wavered. Turks weren't supposed to mourn. Death was a part of the job and Turks always got the job done. Her face righted itself a moment later. "Ugh. All that quivering flesh." She shuddered. "Like a bowlful of jelly – if jelly keeps a gun in its pants to make itself look larger and more of a bad-ass."

"More than I needed to know about Corneo," Rod muttered.

"You and me both. I just hope someday the guy shoots off his own whoosit."

Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs

Rodriguez Motero grew up in Midgar and fought his way from cradle to adulthood.

- Motero is Spanish for 'biker' (according to Babelfish).

The more unfamiliar characters here are actually from Before Crisis. Images of them can be found at finalfantasy (dot) wikia (dot) com (slash) wiki (slash) List (underscore) of (underscore) Before (underscore) Crisis (underscore) (dash)Final (underscore) Fantasy (underscore) VII(dash) (underscore) Characters. The Turk known simply as Rod in the game is also Rod here. Naifu is Knife (female), Tan is Two Guns (male), Helena is Gun (female), Richie is Nunchaku (male) and The Player is … well, the player of BC.