Blood: 16
Trey's back
Trey idled at the doorway, chewing on a half dead chicken wishbone. The baby sitter stood in front of him, oblivious to his impatience as she scanned the list. "So I have to put him to bed before one?" She raised both eyebrows in surprise, looking up at Trey, "Isn't that a little late?"
He exhailed sharply, taking the wishbone out of his mouth and pointing it at her accusingly, "Are you questioning the list?"
"No, Mr Henson. It just seems a little-"
"You are questioning the list, aren't you." She opened her mouth to say something, cut off short, "No questioning the list. You question the list, you question the man, and you question the man, that's you questioning me, therefore you implying that I'm an unfit parent. You're not implying that, are you, Annie?"
"No. Not at all, Mr Henson."
Trey relaxed at that, sticking the wishbone between his teeth and picking out any remaining pieces of chicken. "Good. Because if you were I'd have to kick your scrawny little ass." Annie nodded respectfully, looking over the list one more time. Trey sighed, standing straight and scratching his backside, "Look. Just makes sure he brushes his teeth. If he does that, then you can choose the best way to deal with him. Convince him to eat salad for dinner and I'll pay you extra."
"What time will you be back?"
"I dunno. Can you stay all night?"
"That will cost you extra."
He frowned, not a little annoyed at her answer, but more impressed by her front. She knew what he used to do for a living, and she had the guts to push him. 'Brave little minx.' "All right, but no more extra charges or you're out of a job."
If she said anything else, he didn't hear it, taking his favourite orange waistcoat from the peg on the hallway wall, and swinging it on. "If you're gonna smoke, do it outside."
"I don't-"
"Gimme a break, kid. I can smell it on my easy chair every time you baby sit."
"Yes, Sir."
He nodded, patting himself down. A jingle behind led him to look round and see his keys dangling from Annie's finger. He smiled, snatching them, tossing them up in the air, catching them behind his back and swinging them around one index finger. "Annie, if you were ten years older and a non-smoker, I'd marry you in an instant."
"I'm over the age." She called after him, stopping him in the doorway. Trey winced,
"I didn't hear that." He retreated, closing the door and standing dumbly in the hallway, rubbing his forehead. Trey Henson made it a rule not to sleep with the hired help. 'Except the housekeeper, but she's Costa and can match me move for move. That's a rare thing to find in Midgar. What's wrong with a taste of home?' Shaking his head hard, he started on his way down the stairs.
He had to get his head on straight. Events were catching up with him, and that left him feeling drained and tired. Not only had he been forced to retire because of Reno, the little guy had been sick recently, first with whooping cough, then a bout of flu. There was only so much a man could learn from a book, and only so much you could read while pacing back and forth with a coughing baby over your shoulder.
Glancing back over his shoulder at the door, Trey huffed, and began thumbing through his keys, 'Poor little mite better be all right. He was a bit hot when I checked him ten minutes ago.' He forced Reno to the back of his mind, reminding himself that this was his time. After a week in and out of doctor's surgeries and frantic phone calls. Dammed kid, causing so much trouble.
He dug in his waistcoat pocket for a cigarette, searching his chocobo illustrated lighter out of his hip pocket. The stairwell winding up through the apartment block was surprisingly clean compared to the ones in neighbouring apartment blocks. Seeing as he didn't pay rent, he had to admit that he had struck it lucky. Being a Turk had its advantages.
"Good evening, Trey." He looked round to see Bill, from apartment 202 putting his rubbish out. "Where are you off to tonight?"
"None of your fucking business."
"That's not a nice thing to say."
Trey growled, taking a long drag on his cigarette and blowing the smoke at his enemy, "I'm not a very nice person."
"You smoke far too much, Trey."
"Nicely noticed. Thank God for you. If only the rest of humanity was as astute."
As always, Bill appeared immune to Trey's prickliness, continuing in his task and wishing him a good night. Trey murmured something incoherent, shoving his hands in his pockets and stalking off towards the underground garage.
Some people just had no idea when to shut up. They should learn. Quickly.
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As always, Lilly was waiting for him, looking good in his designated parking space. He ran his hands over her shiny surface, taking a minute to admire her, before throwing his leg over to sit astride her and twist the throttle. He always had to do that, though he had no idea why.
Some interfering old bitch at the super market had told him that he would have to get rid of her and buy a car now that he had a kid. She had been told where to go and what to do with her stupid theories. Lilly was good enough for him before Reno, she was good enough for him now. If big-titted old women insisted on sticking their noses in where they weren't wanted, they should expect to get insulted, and possibly kicked up the arse.
"Stupid old fag." Trey muttered, sticking the key into the ignition and twisting it. Lilly roared to life, her seven fifty cc engine music to Trey's ears. He had loved motorcycles for as long as he could remember. That was one of the reasons he had been forgotten by his family. Personally, he thought it was funny to see the local police chief's bike in flames in the evening surf. Unfortunately his father had taken a dim view of such a hilarious event and told him 'this is the final straw.' Thus he found himself house hunting in Midgar. "Not funny my ass!"
Pissed off, he pulled the clutch in, rocked Lilly forward off her stands and nudged her into first gear. If his pa didn't want to give him a chance, then screw him. Screw everybody! He rung the throttle, throwing his weight back and dropping the clutch, Lilly's front wheel coming up off the floor in response.
She sped off, front wheel meeting ground at the exit ramp, almost coming down on top of Bill. He was not too happy, dropping his chamois leather and shouting after Trey, "You reckless Ex-Turk sonnuvabitch!"
Trey snorted, lowering his head and muttering "Better than a malcontent suburbanite cunt." before twisting Lilly's throttle and forgetting to flick the indicator switch right.
Truth was, he had no plans that evening; just wanted to get out and see what he could see, possibly pay Marlon a visit and get drunk. Stay the night on his friend's sofa and ride home bleary-eyed in the morning. No more chance-taking drunk riding. Reno put a stop to that just by being there. If there was a plan, it was just to ride around until something interesting happened upon him.
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He had been riding around for nearing an hour, and had pulled up to some traffic lights at a junction on the outskirts of sector four when a man pulled up beside him on a red motorcycle. Trey cocked an eye at it, nodding his appreciation. "Nice."
His fellow rider returned the nod, but said nothing, wheeling forward a little as his friends halted beside him on identical bikes. Trey smiled, inexplicably glad to see a bike gang. It had been a while since he had seen men together on bikes. Shinra had been cracking down on crime recently, branching out into another line of business. Public security sounded like fun, and had the potential to bring in more money.
The lights turned green and the cars began to move off. Trey cleared his throat, nudging Lilly into gear and moving off, his fellow bikers catching his eye in the mirror as they moved into lane behind him. Must be holidaymakers or something, having to weave between lanes like that.
They were quickly forgotten, the idiot driving the car in front slamming his brakes on and almost getting a motorcycle up his backside. Trey slammed his brakes on, skidding sideways and somehow detaching himself from Lilly, sitting up to see that she rested exhaust pipe against lamp post.
Without a word, he got to his feet and stalked over to her, picked her up and rocked her forward onto her centre stands, his blood boiling to see the gear selector bent out of shape and a long, silver scratch splitting the shiny black paint of her petrol tank. This was it. Trey Henson had officially reached the end of his tether.
Holding in his outraged screech, he snatched his nail bat from the modified pannier at Lilly's back. The moron in the car had to be about fifty years old, and pretty nervous at what had just happened. He could see Trey in his rear view mirror, and he seemed all right, picking up his bike and standing it next to the lamppost, but it was the right thing to do just to get out and ask.
The windscreen shattered suddenly, throwing slivers of glass all over him. Trey was by no means done there, shaking the glass off his nail bat and winding up a swing into the passenger side door. Still silent, Trey shouldered his bat and wandered back to Lilly, threw his leg over her and sped off round the distressed car, still holding his nail bat in one hand.
Scratched. That would take professional surgery to right. He shook his head, stopping at the next set of lights and turning to put his weapon away. Lilly was more than just a bike; she was a limited edition 1940's Zemzelett. A classic, and a bitch to find parts for. Trey's head began to hurt just thinking about fixing that scratch. How could something so tiny cause so much trouble. "Why the hell am I asking myself that?" He said aloud, Reno springing to mind.
He snapped to attention, looking round suddenly at the familiar bikers halting beside him. "We have got to stop meeting like this." None of them said anything in response. Trey shook his head, resolving to ignore them it they were going to ignore him. The lights turned green.
He nudged Lilly into gear, moving to flip the indicator right. Instead he found himself opening the throttle all the way and flipping the catch onto it, something glinting silver catching his eye.
The biker beside him pulled a knife from his boot, swinging for Trey but finding only thin air, looking round to see Trey and Lilly screeching off down the street. A little surprised, he nodded to his two friends and gave chase.
Trey checked his mirror, frowning to see that this wasn't going to be quite so easy as he initially thought. Once again, his automatic reactions had saved his hairy backside. Neglecting to indicate he turned off into a side street. It was a mystery as to why these people wanted him, getting attacked in the street not a usual thing. "I don't pay tax, so that's not it, and I don't need a TV license. I do however steal cable, so that could be it. These things don't happen all the time, why do they happen to me when they do?"
Then again, he had been waiting for something interesting to happen...
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'This is strange.' That thought repeated itself in M's mind as he turned onto the side street, finding no sign of Trey. 'Where'd he get to?' Confused, he stopped his bike, J and R pulling to halt beside him. J lifted his visor,
"Maybe this isn't such a good idea."
"Oh?" M shot, "What is? Defying orders? Why don't you just go back to Headquarters and put you neck on the block for them!"
"You've seen this guy in action. Back at the warehouse, he was like some kind of... red whirlwind."
"The boss said not to be too worried about this one. Trey's just bad tempered, not particularly skilled or anything."
"And what's your definition of 'particularly skilled'?"
M grunted his answer, moving off away down the street at a crawl. J and R followed.
The street led out onto a market, devoid of any traffic, but packed with people. That made the going even slower for the three MPs. M was lost to his thoughts, 'Look at this place. We stumbled back in time four hundred years. Either that or jumped continent without realising it. So this is where the Costa refugees went.'
The other two seemed to be thinking the same thing, R suddenly muttering something in Costa at an old woman, outraging her. That was none of M's concern. He just had to find Trey and do the deed. It was that or the chopping block.
A roar caught his ear suddenly, blinding white following it before he could act.
J and R stared, Trey and Lilly flying up out of a sunken doorway and delivering a crack to the side of M's head with a piece of 2X4.
Lilly screeched round in a circle. Trey discarding the plank and flipping the catch off her throttle to operate it manually. He nodded to the two uninjured MPs, "You want to play, Let's play!" and zoomed off, just avoiding a woman and her scruffy dog. M got up, picking up his bike and looking back over his shoulder at his colleagues,
"What are ya both sitting there for? Go get 'im!" They didn't need to be told twice, speeding off past their leader.
Trey shot a glance over his shoulder, unable to suppress a smile. Not particularly skilled? He knew who sent them. Bad tempered? He was in a good mood. This evening had just got interesting.
The sporty 1000CCs had no trouble catching up to Lilly, but then, Trey wasn't relying on speed to get him out of this. J and R drew alongside him, neither of them prepared when he slammed his brakes on and skidded to halt sideways, watching them disappear around the bend. "Man, he couldn't send competent minions to kill me?" An engine behind brought him to attention. M was back in the chase. "Uh oh." Lilly leapt forward and sped away, M catching up easily. He was not in a good mood, snatching his knife from his boot and swiping at Trey.
This was getting serious. J and R were back also, on a heading straight for Lily's front wheel. Trey ducked away from M, pulling in Lilly's clutch and slamming on the back brake. She skidded onto her side, Trey drawing his leg up and under himself and ducking his head.
The MPs hit her wheels and took off, landing in skids behind M. Trey threw Lilly up onto her wheels and made for the nearest alleyway. 'Bent something there.' He thought, his beloved girl feeling a little shaky under him. 'More repairs.' M's knife clattered off the wall beside his head. 'Could be worse.'
The alley was narrow and dark. Just what the doctor ordered. Flipping the catch back on the throttle, Trey reached behind and grabbed his nail bat, dumping it in his lap and fishing around in the pannier. Admittedly being able to see what he was doing would have made life easier. He found what he was looking for quickly enough, snatching the leather gloves from under what felt like a mouldering sandwich and slipping them on. No matter how much of a shambles people thought him to be, he always kept a little something on Lilly for emergencies.
He shot a quick glance at his knuckles, finding a lucky plus and a long range on one hand, and fire and lightning glinting on the other. Oh, life was good! With his nail bat ready in one hand, he swung Lilly round in a circle at the end of the alley and waited.
'The moron brothers' (as Trey had mentally christened them) didn't make him wait long, speeding down the alley as though there were no tomorrow. M halted at the sight of Trey, feeling more than a little triumphant over the Ex-Turk, sitting at the end of the alleyway with his trusty nail bat. Really, did he think he could take all three of them on with that primitive thing?
Yup.
J and R waited quietly, neither one as confident as M, but ready on his order none the less. Trey kept a careful eye on them, slowly reaching down and picking up half a red brick from beside a soggy cardboard box.
R frowned, "What's he think he's doing with that?"
Calmly, Trey placed the brick in his lap and twisted the throttle, wringing a roar from Lilly. M looked at his friends, "He wants to play chicken."
"You mean that thing they do in the movies?" J appeared stunned. M nodded.
"That."
"Cool." The three of them revved their bikes.
Trey let go of the clutch suddenly, Lilly darting forward, front wheel lifting off the ground. The moron brothers did the same, their bikes lurching forward, speeding towards Lilly, all four engines echoing in the alley.
Trey made his move, jamming the handle of his nail bat under his knee and hefting the brick in one hand. He threw it, sending it down the alley in a blur and straight into R's visor with a crack. He somersaulted, his bike carrying on without him a few metres before falling over and spinning in a circle, R landing in a broken, twitching heap on the concrete behind.
J looked back, his stomach freezing to see his war buddy in such a state. Seething with rage, he opened the throttle all the way, flying past M and straight for Trey, machete out of boot and in hand.
Trey began to weave from side to side, cracking a smile to see J mimic him. Perfect. No more brick, he snatched his nail bat and wove toward the right hand wall. J followed him, his mouth agape all of a sudden at Trey leaping off Lilly to run along the wall, still holding the handlebars. He didn't know what hit him, Trey's nail bat crashing through the side of his helmet, the rest of him dragged off his bike to hit the wall.
M swerved out the way, slowing down and circling his bike in time to see Trey hop back onto Lilly and do the same. "What happens next?"
M didn't answer, pulling off his helmet and throwing it aside. Trey was impressed, "Well, well, well. If it isn't Mr. Betrayal 1969!" Still no answer was given, M taking a GN4 from his belt. 'Should have seen that, Trey, dude. All that daddy stuff's got you slipping.' Shaking his head clear, Trey concentrated on his right hand. Gasping at his own actions, he charged Lilly down the alley.
Nowhere in the briefing had it said that Trey was a suicidal maniac. M hesitated, unsure what to do. Trey had more sense than that; he had seen the red-head in action on assignment not long ago, and he had thought on his feet the whole time. He had to have something up his sleeve.
'Wish I knew what I was doing. Think, Trey, think!" Up ahead was an old newspaper and a cardboard box. Grinning, Trey sped up, dragging his nail bat along the ground towards the paper.
M panicked, pulling the trigger but missing Trey to hit one of Lilly's forks instead. She shuddered, but kept going. Trey acted, scraping the newspaper up with his bat and tossing it into the air, drawing M's fire. Next up was the cardboard box. He scraped that up also, tossing it up and in front of Lilly, yelling 'home run!' and smacking it down the alleyway, baseball style right into M's face. His mind already half on the materia in his glove, Trey cast a high level fire spell, right on M's fuel pipe.
Though he was sad to see 1000CC of bike go up in smoke, Trey had to watch. M had been asking for it; you should never take an opponent lightly, even if they're reportedly without skill. Chuckling to himself, Trey set his eyes on the road, Lilly cannoning straight into the brick wall at the end of the alley.
(NOTE: I was listening to 'Henrietta' by the Fratellis when I wrote this, so that set the tempo for the chapter. Trey's my favourite original character in this story. He's great fun to write and he's so versatile with his fighting style. He has none. That's what makes him so fun to write. He's a scumbag, and yet I gotta love him. In regards to Reno... he does love him, but at the same time is still getting to grips with the whole responsibility thing. Trey's had thirty-two years of looking out for number one, and Reno's busted in and shattered all the purely selfish things Trey would normally do. He's adjusting, just not very well. I want to take this time to say a big thank you to Just Jill for her reviews. She's really encouraging me with her enjoyment of this story. Thank you!)