Blood 24: Plastic

There he was, Trey fucking Henson. Where did he get off strutting about the place like that? Leaning against a badly parked jeep and playing with his hair.

Richards stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, tossing the disposable lighter away to crack against the wall and eek fluid all over the alley floor.

Four days he had been watching Trey, tracing every miniscule movement the man made. The last two days Trey had been laid up in hospital, the nice old lady in the next apartment looking after the brat.

There was no point in doing things by halves. Every little thing Trey did had to be watched and recorded, kept until the time was right to make a move on him. Richards chuckled, realising suddenly why he had been kicked out of the police force. He was far too vengeful for a job like that. No, Trey Henson had it coming.

Heidegger had tried, and failed to rub him out earlier that week. Then, that man always had been too stupid to do things for himself, and sending those moronic MPs was the limit. "Fucking useless bastard doesn't know what he's sitting on. If I had his job, this place would be run a lot smoother."

Trey disappeared into the stairwell, on his way to his apartment. Richards darted across the street, keeping his distance as he edged slowly along the wall of Trey's building. That skinny red head had ears like a cat – if something was following him, he'd know it. Unless the person doing the following knew his little techniques, and how to get round them.

Richards halted beside the first step, looking up in alarm to see that Trey had stopped a few steps up and was rifling through his groceries.

"Fuck." Trey murmured, setting the bag down on the step in front of him and checking his waistcoat pockets. "All outta cigs. Shoulda checked when you were there. Dumbass." He turned and wandered back down the stairs onto the street, looking around in confusion. 'Somebody around or something? Nah, just your imagination, kid. Coulda sworn though...' Shaking his head, he started off down the street towards the off license.

Richards watched him from under the jeep. "Cigarettes'll kill ya, Henson." He smirked, crawling out onto the pavement and making for the stairwell.

Trey was very trusting, leaving his groceries out like that. Then again, he did live in the safest sector. Crime in the area was just about nil. 'They know this is Turk territory.' Richards thought, pulling something putty out of his pocket and sticking it at the bottom of the bag.

"Thought I heard a rat." Trey stood behind him, leaning against the wall with a length of pipe in one hand. Richards glared round at him, attempting to mask his surprise.

"You ought to learn to watch that mouth of yours, Henson."

"Why? It doing something interesting?"

All those years working around Trey, the thing that pissed Richards off the most was that mouth! Snarling deep in his throat, he swung for Trey, the red head stepping back and swinging with his pipe. Richards knew he would do that, feinting and bringing his fist back with a jerk, his knuckles meeting Trey's pipe halfway with a metallic clang.

Trey jumped back, "Shit!" 'Didn't even flinch!'

Richards looked at him, massaging his knuckles in a series of horrific cracks. None of his Turks had seen him fight before, only felt the occasional punch. Even that had felt like a sledgehammer to the guts. Trey ducked, narrowly avoiding a punch, grabbing Richards' wrist and redirecting the blow into the brick wall. Again the man didn't flinch, rounding on Trey and smacking him in the stomach, sending him flying onto the jeep's bonnet.

Trey gasped, trying desperately to get some air into his lungs. He squirmed, his head swimming as he was lifted off the bonnet and up level with Richards' face. "You don't know what hit you, do ya?"

He didn't respond, unable to speak. Richards shook his head, flinging him over his shoulder to hit the apartment building wall and land on his front on the pavement below. "You really are pathetic, Henson! Look at you!"

Trey didn't say anything, attempting to drag himself along the floor, away from there. "Where you going?" Richards grabbed the back of his shirt, lifting him off the floor to look him in the eye. "Bet you wish you weren't so fucking skinny now, huh?"

No chance was given for an answer, Trey hitting the floor again, his cheek connecting with the cold paving slabs. Richards laughed out loud, stepping on his back. "Get out of this one if you can. You little worm!"

The strangled choke from the pitiful little red head was enough for the time being, Richards taking his foot away and wandering off to pick up his putty from the grocery bag. No point in sneakiness now. Much more satisfying to stick it in Trey's mouth and tape it up.

Trey curled into a ball on his side, fighting back tears. It had been a long time since he hurt this much, even crashing Lilly the other day. His injured leg throbbed, refusing to move with the rest of him and staying stretched out on the pavement. He couldn't stay there; Richards would kill him. Choking back a sob, he selected his restore materia and cast a quick cure spell on himself. At once he began to feel stronger, dragging himself over to a lamppost and pulling himself to his feet. He cast another cure spell, his leg healing almost immediately. Richards was strong, but none too bright. Fucking moron hadn't even checked him for materia before walking away.

Still aching a little, he leant against the lamppost, catching his breath.

He didn't have long, Richards returning with something in his hand. Trey flinched, the look on his e enemy's face saying it all.

How could this be? 'I beat the little shit to within an inch of his life!' Rage overtaking him, Richards ran at Trey. He found himself punching air, looking up to see Trey scaling the lamppost like a spider monkey to leap off and grab the ledge outside his neighbour's window.

Trey squirmed out of his shirt, wrapping it around his hand and punching through the window. Richards faltered, watching almost dumbstruck Trey pull a large shard of glass out of the frame and hop down into the street to face him.

"You want to take me on, Richards, we do it this way."

"Oh? You'd take on an unarmed man?"

Trey blew a strand of hair out of his face, "Hardly." and nodded at Richards' hands, "What's in the knuckles?"

Damn he was perceptive. "I used to be on the force before the Turks. Was with the bomb squad." He clenched and unclenched his fist, looking at it with a smile. "They used to call me Butterfingers."

"Figures."

"They put in plates before kicking me out. Handy really."

"Not funny." Trey made a move, dashing straight at Richards with the glass clenched in his hand. It was then he saw the putty between the bastard's fingers...

(NOTE: Is bot not working, or is it just me? If not, that's rather miffifying. This chapter is going somewhere, don't worry ;)

Right, Darth Noir – I haven't played DoC, but I know the story well. I'm naughty that way :p Thanks for your offer. That was really nice of you. I do want to say thanks for your reviews and enjoyment of this story. Your encouragement is really helping. Same to Just Jill again! You two are wonderful!

KAOS – This is the third revision of this fic, and I changed a lot of it already. It's about three years old. The Vincent from Wutai thing was from the first draft. I kept it in this one because of the way I write him and Yuffie, - and the background it gave him in the original draft - It gives them some common ground and something to talk about. Yuffie didn't look particularly Japanese in FFVII (In fact I always thought she looked uncannily like a friend of mine, and I mean to a scary degree, and she's Welsh). Sorry, getting a bit long-winded. Thanks for the compliment though :)

Darth Noir & KAOS – It wasn't AU originally because it does follow the timeline so well, but with the compilation, I wanted more space to play around and get the feel I wanted without worrying about niggly details. The extra leeway feels like breathing space, which I have when I write as work, which brings out a more natural feel. I like to feel as though I'm reading back to myself aloud when I read over what I've done. Voice is very important to me.

Whew!)