Chapter 3: Coffee, Sex, and Ninjas.

After Reno had pulled several drags of rum-flavored smoke from the hookah, he was very close to making a decision about going home. More caffeine and more nicotine were the bread and butter of his day. But, there was only so long he could go before facing another morning where he might not wake up. There were enough of those. Times when he was sure he'd wake up to find cats barking, Rude giggling like a school girl, and water falling into the sky.

He ate several nuts off of Rude's plate. The bald Turk offered no objection. No surprise there. He was silently generous.

A young professional at the bar fell to the floor in a fit of coughing. No one seemed to mind. Brown blossomed across the yuppie's white dress-shirt like water rising up through quicksand. His chocolate latte had gotten the better of him. Who drinks those at night, thought Reno, who took a sip of his own coffee.

Eventually, the bartender signaled one of the coffee baristas, a young woman with bobbed hair and no makeup. Her black vest and sleeve-garters made her look like a blackjack dealer. She came out from behind the bar, and grabbed the yuppie by his feet. She dragged him away while he was still coughing. Reno presumed it was either to help him or to get him to help. He hated to think that she would be rifling through his wallet and stealing his silk socks, but this was Midgar.

He watched the slow progression of the barista and her cargo. It was the most interesting thing that he'd seen that day, until he turned to see Tseng standing next to the table. Tseng was eating Rude's cookies. Reno almost had his own coughing-fit at the end of the hookah.

"Force out the smoke, and breathe," said Tseng, "It's easy. You've done it for years."

A cookie crumb fell from Tseng's mouth and landed on the table in front of Reno. He stared at it as though he'd witnessed a live birth in front of him. Crumbs. Crumbs falling from Tseng's mouth.

"This place has a wonderful atmosphere. That's why I brought our organization here. Don't you agree?"

"I guess."

"Good. Eventually you'll be like Rude here. He's silent because he knows."

"Knows what?"

"Precisely." Tseng then devoured a piece of fruit bread. He ordered a cup of tea, which was brought to him immediately. Amidst the structured hierarchy of The Three Trees Oasis there were regular patrons, Shinra salary men, the Turks, and then Tseng.

He quickly drank his tea. He did not pound it or noisily slurp it. The tea just flowed into him. "I know that you are somewhat unsatisfied with your current assignments," he said, "While I do apologize, I remind you that ours is not a pleasant job. It's dangerous, dirtier, and frequently more disturbing than most jobs."

"Look I wasn't going to whine or anything. I just needed to know—"

"Yes, I know. Would you like to assist me in something important?"

Tseng brushed back a stand of his hair that had strangely come loose. It was then that Reno noticed the splatter of blood on the well-manicured hand.

"Doing what?"

"Official Turk business. Follow me to the backroom, won't you?"

Reno looked to Rude for some kind of support. All he got was the cold stare of the black sunglasses. He wondered how many people had died with those dark rims as their last sight. Would that vision come for him one day? Or would it be Tseng? Tseng would no doubt be very polite about it.

"Sure. Anything for the Turks. You don't have to ask."

"That's what I like to hear."

He followed Tseng to the backroom. There was no point in looking back at Rude. There would be no change. No offering of help. Rude was the epitome of a Turk.

The door was a beautiful carved-chestnut colonial. However, when Tseng opened it, a cautious person would note that it was a façade to a steel door with an air-tight rubber lining. Shinra paid for all of the bar's special renovations. They trusted Tseng after all. Who didn't?

Reno barely heard the door close behind him. This wasn't just due to the fact that the door was so expertly installed as to only make the noise of a dove's feather falling to a white marble floor. No, it was because of the sight screaming into Reno's eyes.

He beheld beautiful pale and taut flesh. That of a woman, who despite her personality, was still numbingly attractive. Her skin, however beautiful, wasn't boring. It was a canvas for elaborate ink work. This was something new to his eyes. Reno had seen every inch of that pale skin before. Now it looked like some exotic culture had left its history on it.

It was of course done in a way so as to be invisible when she wore the dark Turk suit. They had to have standards. The largest piece that Reno could discern was a large sitting Buddha rising from her belly with his bald head between the bottoms of her breasts. He didn't say anything, but Reno swore that the Buddha's face bore a striking resemblance to Tseng. It is all about you, isn't it?

Once his eyes had given up on their translation of the various patterns, symbols, and fragments of foreign languages, Reno noticed the circumstances of her being there. She was bound and gagged. Blood seeped from small cuts, and bruises were growing like wheat in a barren valley. A trail of blood flowed into the Buddha's mouth and down his chin.

"As you can see," said Tseng, "I'm not quick to accept all rehires. Those who have disappointed us in the past have to prove themselves again."

Tseng pulled a wooden chair forward, and ordered Reno to put her on it. Reno did so without question.

"Remove the gag."

It was soaked in blood. When he removed it, Elena spat out a tooth.

"Nice to see you again, Reno. I was hoping you'd still be here."

"Silence," from Tseng, "If you disappoint us during this, Reno will be the last man you see."

She nodded.

Reno had a strange feeling emanating from his gut that drifted over his head like a warm blanket. It was so like those days when he sat in his apartment letting pain pills kiss his wounds away.

"What are you?" Tseng asked Elena.

"Trash."

"Whose trash?"

"Yours."

"And?"

"His." She smiled at Reno.

Tseng turned away from Elena, and addressed him as though she were not there. "Don't worry about her fragile nature. I haven't."

"What do you want me to do?" It was a dumb question to ask. He already knew the answer. The feeling in his head made him dizzy. He wanted to lie down and sleep. An odd feeling for Reno.

"As I said, don't worry. She's agreed to this. I'm even doing her the favor of having you do it."

Elena blushed, but said nothing.

"Tseng…I…"

"Do it anyway you please, but do it. I'll be in the bar." Tseng walked to the door, and opened it. Before he closed it behind him he said: "From now on you'll have some better work. I always take care of the people who work for me."

Then Tseng was gone.

Reno looked at Elena, and she looked at him. He didn't say anything. He couldn't find anything to say. So she did. "Do they still have those great chocolate lattes here?"

XXX

The next day Reno found himself with a new job. Tseng was many things, but a liar was not one of them. The "crisis" with the original AVALANCHE had solidified his position. He sent Reno to work with the older Turk Frost.

"The thing about retirement that I couldn't stand was the boredom. You probably haven't faced such a thing, have you?"

His throat had been bothering him, so he stopped smoking for the day. There was still plenty of coffee. Always plenty of coffee when you were a Turk. Reno had no choice but to admit that Frost had good taste. Usually he would be content to just chug any large cup of bean-brew provided that it had caffeine. When Frost had come back to the car with the drinks Reno expected nothing. It was all so much routine. When he took the first sip he learned a great deal. Frost educated him. He told Reno that such a brew had levels and a plethora of flavors. Because of this, Reno had tolerated the older man's want to talk. It was much different than working with Rude.

Frost kept talking. "At first it was great. Like a long vacation. And there's no denying that you always want a vacation. I remember years ago, before Shinra got their full grip, we didn't get vacations. The Wutai problem and every other little start-up knew they could beat us. But of course they didn't."

Reno didn't mind the banter. Time kept passing. The people they were watching wouldn't be going anywhere soon. It was the kind of job that people like Ross would love. Too bad that Ross got stuck with Rude.

"When do you think you'll retire?"

He wanted to say "never". That he longed for the quick and untimely death Tseng promised him upon joining. "When I start seeing the punched coming. Then I'll probably have to hang it up."

Frost was silent for a long time. Reno thought nothing of it.

"You sure you want to be in this line of work?"

"Were you sure about coming back?"

"That's fair."

Reno made visual contact with one of their targets. "He's early."

"Better than six hours from now."

The man they approached was just another low-level salary man of Shinra, and possibly a frequenter of The Three Trees. His suit was cheap and had been washed too many times. Reno had seen it all too often. His own suits were frequently damaged and dirtied. Early on Reno had resorted to re-dying his suits every few months. His skin kept getting stained, but it worked. Finally Tseng had seen his stained pale flesh and asked about it. Once it was known Tseng wasn't going to let it happen again. Reno simply had to ask for more suits. They were tax-deductible after all. The man Frost and him were after wasn't as fortunate as that.

But he was paranoid enough to notice the two Turks coming up to him. He didn't run. Anyone who'd worked for the company long enough knew that running was pointless. The company knew where you worked, where you lived, where you hung out, and everything about your friends who were more than likely fellow employees. Standard employee guidelines warned potential employees that company investigators mistakenly called "Turks" were to be cooperated with fully.

Their target in the rundown suit, Harris, knew the situation, and stopped in his tracks.

Good boy. You don't want problems.

"Mr. Leonard Harris?"

"Yes, what do you want?"

"That's not the kind of customer-service a Shinra employee should be offering," said Frost, "You're not a bitter employee are you?"

"Of course not. I…It's just…"

"I understand," said Reno, "I know all about it."

"You do?" There was a nervous twitch in Harris' eyes.

"Yes. I see it all the time. You work for the company day in and day out. Not only do you do your job, you do it very well. Do they reward you for it? Not hardly, but it's a job. It beats living in the slums, am I right?"

"I guess so."

"He guesses so. I think maybe you're giving this man too much credit."

"I don't think so. He wants to do the right thing, don't you Mr. Harris?"

"What is this even about?"

"Reactor Number Two."

Reno couldn't detect any decisive reaction from Harris. This wasn't unexpected. Innocence was a possibility, but then again a well-trained infiltrator could go so far as to believe in his own cover story until his handlers told him otherwise. Similar things had been done during the Wutai incident.

"Would you like to go somewhere to talk about it?"

"I'd prefer to stay out here in the open."

It was a Shinra-dominated street so it shouldn't have been an issue. Somewhere in his brain Reno could already hear Tseng chastising him for such foolish assumptions. But after what he'd been through the night before with Tseng and Elena, Reno was as full of doubts as ever.

"Suit yourself. Would you like a cigarette? How about a cup of coffee? My friend here knows where the good coffee is. Believe me."

"No, thank…oh God!"

Reno turned to see a man wearing a large ratty blanket. He could only see his eyes. Just another bum, he thought, though a brave one to be so close to Shinra HQ. Many homeless people had a habit of disappearing when they got too close. The Turks were not involved, and Reno suspected Hojo of being the most likely suspect. He never asked though. You weren't supposed to ask.

Reno maintained the routine. "Look, hobo, beat it outta here. This isn't a safe place for you."

The bum turned away, and that should've been the end of it. However, a three foot wide shuriken broke past Reno and Frost and lanced into Harris before returning to the bum.

Reno went for his pistol, and only then realized that the giant ninja star had glanced his right arm. Moving it opened up the wound, and his arm glazed itself with blood.

During this, Frost pulled his own gun, a chromed revolver, and had his sights on the ninja when a flurry of bamboo needles sunk into his hand. The chrome gun fell onto the dirty street.

A second ninja they hadn't seen drew a short sword, and charged forward at Frost. By then Reno had finally pulled his gun and fired at this new threat. His aim was wide and the bullet only grazed the ninja who didn't stop his charge. Reno fired again. This time the ninja deflected the bullet with his sword. He aimed again. Not thinking about the giant shuriken that was probably on its way to slicing off his arm. But for all of that dire focus he didn't get to fire. A dark blur with a graying head of hair crashed into the assassin. Together they careened onto the street and continued until they hit the base of a statue bearing the likeness of Rufus Shinra.

The other ninja dodged forward. Leaping from side to side. Reno fired, but only grazed him.

From the lobby of the office building came two armed guards who opened fire with their rifles. At least one high-powered round struck the ninja as a spray of blood and tissue erupted from the dirty blanket. The ninja retaliated, and sent the large shuriken into the chest of one of the guards killing him instantly. Enraged, the other guard charged forward. The retractable bayonet coming out of his rifle like fang. It was one of the bravest things that Reno would ever see.

The two men met and fell into a grapple over the gun. While the ninja had training on his side, the Shinra guard was powered by hatred. Reno recalled that Tseng frequently spoke of carrying emotions into battle. Which was odd considering how Tseng was almost as unemotional as Rude.

Reno saw the opportunity. The person known as "Reno" couldn't be allowed to interfere. This had to be the work of the Turk. The guard was too close to the ninja—they were actually head to head—or rather masked ninja to helmeted guard. Even the most intense of Shinra's troopers didn't make choices like Reno did. He shot into the ninja's head. Both men fell to the ground.

Reno turned his attention to Frost. The older Turk was still entangled with the other ninja, but only one was breathing. The other was merely twitching in death. On closer inspection, Reno saw the handle of an ice pick sticking out from the back of the ninja's left ear.

Reno shook his head. Older Turks, he thought, always having to do things the old fashioned way. The whole battle had taken place in mere moments. I thought ninjas would be faster.

He helped Frost to his feet without using his injured arm. Frost's hand looked bad as well.

"I'm not sure I missed this part," said Frost picking up his gun, "Who knows how clean these damn needles are?" Frost began pulling the needles from his hand, while Reno checked on Harris. Their target was still alive, but bleeding badly.

"Reno."

He turned.

"This trooper under the ninja is still alive."

It was true. The guard's helmet must have protected him from the bullet after it had already been slowed down by so much ninja head.

"It's nice to work for a company that makes good products."

"No alarms yet. Where are the sirens?"

"We've stopped doing that. AVALANCHE uses it as an escape signal. Scarlet calculates a fifty percent increase in our likelihood to kill terrorists when they think they have more time."

"And the facilities are all like that?"

"No. It's random so AVALANCHE doesn't get wise to it. "

"Help me," choked Harris.

"Are you going to help us now?"

"Hel…help…"

"Let's get him to the car. We can stabilize him there."

They did so. The ninja's original aim must have been affected by the placement of the three of them. Harris had been luckier than the other guard.

Reno looked back at the still-living guard who was now sitting up. There was something that Reno wanted to say. Something that should've made up for what he almost did. Tseng would disagree. Tseng usually did.

The siren began. An electric wail that became a warble then wailed again. He stood there for a moment thinking about it. Reno remembered times past when he hid from similar alarms.

Shinra maintained special storage rooms for those "worst-case scenarios". He almost laughed when Palmer showed them to him like they were the biggest secret in the world. He'd wanted to tell the fat man how he'd eaten in one room and shat in the other. But some people just didn't have sense of humor when you tore off the veil of their perfect thing.

Such is life.

He threw a half-empty pack of cigarettes into the living guard's lap. "I don't know what to say."

Frost started up the car. It was just another day. They took their target and drove away.