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28. Rod – Target

"Hey, Sureshot."

Naifu waved. "Cheers, Big Ears."

Legend shook his head. "That's the worst one yet."

She stuck out her tongue.

After so long of walking on eggshells around each other, it seemed they're patched up their differences. Rod couldn't decide whether that bothered or pleased him. Legend was still an arrogant asshole with the power to irritate to face-mashing level at a hundred paces, but Naifu had been so weird after they returned from the Costa del Sol, Rod couldn't bring himself to wish away her improved mood. A lot of people sleepwalked through life, but not Naifu. She inhabited every moment and made them interesting, at least. Sometimes they were even … fun.

Rod wondered when having fun had become a luxury he could no longer afford. Was it when he became a Turk? Earlier than that? Had there ever really been a time he did have fun?

Yes. A long time ago. He'd just given up remembering those times because they threw into sharp relief the way things were for him now– especially in light of Alejandro's threats.

Not that anything had ever come of those. Rod still looked over his shoulder, but now when he went out a few grains of foolishness had worked their way into the action. The more time passed, the more he dismissed Alejandro as a bitter but ineffective enemy. Hadn't Alejandro already proved that with how he'd handled the gang? Rod shouldn't have taken him so seriously. Alejandro was weak, and there were bigger fish to fry.

The line-up of active Turks was dwindling, and uptake wasn't replacing their numbers as they needed. At this rate 'elite' might as well be synonymous with 'endangered'. Tseng had his work cut out keep the department's head above water. Heidegger was eager to take political pot-shots, and their status had been impaired by Veld, AVALANCHE and other recent problems. To prevent the Turks from become a scapegoat for Shinra's bad mood after Sephiroth, maintaining the Turks' reputation was up to the ground troops. Without some bigwig support, their future looked like it might get pretty rocky, but they'd have to ride out whatever happened.

Just what they needed; to be fighting for Shinra itself to take them seriously when they had other things –better things – to be thinking about. What they needed was someone in the hierarchy to invest support in them – not necessarily financial, but just to wedge their status behind the Turks' to shore them up a little. In the event of that not happening, however, it was time to get down to brass tacks and just do the job; let the results speak for themselves.

So when a VIP's son was found shacked up in a Midgar slum with a Lucid needle in his arm, Tseng lost no time in dispatching Rod and Naifu. They were to ensure the silence of any witnesses while he courted the distraught father. Make a bigwig grateful enough and he'd be climbing all over himself to support them: public support for a very private service. At least, that was what Tseng was hoping, and the plan did require Rod and Naifu making it to the son before any reporters or political enemies of his father found him first.

"I'm trying to come up with a new name for him," Naifu said, dragging Rod back to reality. "The Legendary Turk? Puh-lease. Talk about blowing your own trumpet. But he won't tell me his real name, which must mean it's something really embarrassing, like Susan or Polly."

"Those are girl names."

"Exactly. Or maybe he has one of those virtue names – Valour or Courage." She grinned evilly. "Or Thurgood."

"That's a virtue name?"

"Yup. So is Prudencio. It's the male form of Prudence. I had this conversation with Cissnei once, when we discussed the worst names to have. It's weird, isn't it, how touchy people can get about their names? Nobody ever seems to like their own."

Rod grunted.

"Your name's pretty well suited to you – short, sharp, easy to yell in a fight when someone's about to cave in your head with a crowbar, plus it's your weapon of choice as well. How convenient is that? Of course, I know it's just a shortened version of your real name, but all the same, it's very fitting."

"You're babbling."

"I always babble. It's one of my many charms."

Rod shook his head, but a kernel of warmth remained. Was that … affection? Damn it, he really was getting soft. "C'mon," he rumbled. "Time to go to work."

"As long as you don't go all Knight Errant on me again."

"What?"

"I'm a big girl, Rod," she sighed. "I don't need you to look out for me while we're on duty. You've been breathing down my neck since we got back from Costa del Sol." She eyeballed him. "I'm touched. Really. It proves you actually have a heart. But seriously? Stop it. It's stifling. I don't need a big strong man to take care of me, in case you hadn't noticed. You're making out like I'm one of those oppressed females in romance novels who swoon and use smelling salts."

Rod stared at her. "Since when do you read romance novels?"

She shrugged. "But you get my point, right?"

He did, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to protect her. It was more than a little instinctive. Nevertheless, he nodded.

She brightened, if it was possible for her sunny disposition to get any brighter. "Good. Now let's offski! I don't want to spend too long out there today. The brothels where they allow Lucid always give me the creeps."

Rod couldn't disagree. There was always an extra element of sleaziness when the clientele and the girls (or boys) who tended them were equally out of their heads. They needed to move this bigwig's son someplace less inflammatory before –

He didn't register the shot until pain exploded in his shoulder. He didn't register much of anything, except the instinct that had him ducking and rolling as screams erupted throughout the monorail platform. All around them people panicked and ran. Funny how groups of humans acted like herds of dumb animals when they panicked: make a loud enough noise and watch them scatter.

"Rod!"

"I'm okay."

"No, I mean over there!" Naifu gestured.

Rod turned to see the escaping figure topple off the roof of the carriage with a knife between his shoulder-blades. The figure got to his feet, staggered and fell sideways. He hit the ground and didn't get up again. He was quickly obscured by panicked commuters.

Rod pushed to his feet. Naifu followed. They descended on the fallen shooter before he could be trampled. People backed off at the sight of two Turks, forming a clearing around them like water running around a giant rock in the middle of a river. Threats were posed by every passing body, so Naifu provided cover as Rod turned the guy over. As well as the knife wound, they hadn't completely prevented him being trampled. The result wasn't pretty. A large bloody bubble popped across his face, but the red spatter wasn't enough to disguise his identity.

Rod stared in mounting horror. "Carlito?"

The guy wasn't very old, more boy than man, but he glared up at Rod with long-standing bitterness. He tried to speak, but the light in his eyes was already dimming.

"Shit," Rod said desperately. "Shit!"

"You … did it," the kid burbled. "You … ruined him. What they been doin' to him. S'all … your … fault."

"Carlito, hang on!"

"Your fault. Left us ... him ... because of you, he went ... tried to … 'cause of ... of youuu..." Carlito's eyes fluttered shut and his chest deflated.

"Shit!" Rod grabbed his shoulder but knew in an instant it was no use – and a bad idea. Not that he had grabbed with his newly busted arm, but he had used Carlito's name. Recognition had shown in his face and voice. Naifu must have noticed.

She confirmed his mistake. "You know this punk?"

Rod cursed inwardly. "Once upon a time."

"He was aiming for you. A crappy shot, but you were definitely his target." She looked at the crowd, which was changing from 'panicking' to 'milling in confusion'. Turks standing over a dead body should have disturbed them, but after the sound of gunfire it actually quieted their alarm. Shinra had saved them. The threat had been neutralised. Maybe they could make it to work alive and on time after all. A boy was dead and they were glad because it meant less interruption of their workday.

Midgar, you just keep finding new ways to suck ass. Rod gritted his teeth so hard they hurt. "We need to take care of this."

"And you." Naifu indicated his bleeding shoulder. "You need triage, buddy." She lowered her voice. "And something tells me there's a story behind this that I, as your partner, should hear." Her expression was playful but there was steel in her voice.

Rod considered. That shot could easily have taken her down as well. Maybe she did have a right to know about his personal shit. She could know some of it, at least.

"All right, but first we do our job."

Naifu kept her blades out, clenched between her fingers for easier access. "Don't we always?"

To Be Continued ...

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