Title: Boy Soldier
Author: Neldluva FFVII
Pairings: None, or lots, depending on how you look at it.
Rating: R, NC17 in later chapters
Don't read this if you don't like: Angst, sex (of the m/m and m/f sort), foul language, underage sex, questionable consent, masturbation, voyeurism (sort of), violence, blood, drug and alcohol use, prostitution,
Disclaimer: Reno and FF7-verse are definitely not mine. Please don't sue, I have negative monies.
What you can expect from the fic overall: This is my version Reno's backstory, or how he got where he was in the various FF7 games and movies. It is a long, difficult journey, sometimes funny, sometimes sad. But hey, that's life.
What you can expect from this chapter: The beginning and other such scene-setting business.
Author's note: Since I've become involved in the FF7 fandom, Reno has consistently been a character who intrigues me and begs for interpretation. So I wrote this to see what makes him tick. This is a departure from my usual style. It is very choppy and maybe even a little difficult to read, but that seems to fit. It also allows me to indulge my recent fixation on unhappy endings. So … yeah. Don't look for happiness, Reno's story doesn't have much of that.
I'd also like to say that this is just one interpretation, I know there are lots of other Reno stories out there that have him coming from different circumstances. Anyway. I hope you enjoy this interpretation!
PS: The title is from a song by The Raconteurs. No, this isn't a songfic, but I was listening to the song a few days ago and thought, "Well, it fits well enough that I can use it in the title." So I also don't own any Raconteurs songs, except for the ones I bought.
Reno was really fucking cold. That's why he hated winter … to other kids his age, winter meant hot cocoa and snowmen and wearing nice warm jackets. Reno didn't really have those luxuries. A cardboard box was all he could look forward to that night, maybe huddling up with some other orphans in attempt not to freeze.
In the whole scheme of things, he hadn't been at this orphan business very long. Not that he wasn't used to living by himself. With a dad that came home only long enough to grab more alcohol and slap him around a few times and a mother who preferred a stupor to real life, Reno had gotten used to caring for himself. Still, there is a big difference between four walls and a sturdy, if slightly squeaky, bed and a cardboard box.
Reno pulled his hood over his unruly bright red hair in attempt to keep his ears warm, breathing on his hands and curling up in the box. There was already a kid in there, so Reno pressed close to try to share some heat. He felt bony little fingers tight against his arm, and Reno turned his face down to breathe warm clouds against their legs.
His sixth birthday had been only a week ago.
By the time Reno passed his seventh birthday, he had found a new family, and with them he ruled the streets … at least, as much as a seven-year-old boy could. He remembered, vaguely, a time when his mother had had her mind about her, when she had read him a story of a boy who never grew up and ruled the world with his Lost Boys. Granted, Reno's world wasn't a paradise like that boy's had been. They had to steal their food and live in doorways and boxes, and there weren't any pirates to fight or fairies to save the day. But all in all, it wasn't that bad.
That is, until they started stepping on toes. An older boy with garish red marks on his face plucked Reno up one day as he was rushing from the scene of a pickpocketing. Reno, being the patriarch of his little clan, began shouting and cursing, kicking a storm at the taller boy. Unfortunately, his legs weren't quite long enough to do any damage, and it was only a moment before he was surrounded by more of the boys. And just as quickly as he had been dropped into the little warren of alleys, he was removed again.
The boys took him to a deserted building far away from Reno's little kingdom of urchins. The part of town Reno had been in wasn't the best, but it was nothing compared to this place … it glowed with neon signs promising things that weren't entirely legal. Everything was covered with a fine layer of grime, including the native inhabitants. But Reno stuck out his chin and crossed his arms, standing as tall as he could up to the older boys with the strange marks.
No one spoke until another boy entered the room. Though he looked no different from the others, he was clearly the ringleader, and Reno knew this was the one he would have to deal with.
"This the kid?" the boy asked over a cigarette. His voice was older than he looked. "What dump did he crawl out of, yo?"
Reno just stuck his chin out further. "You're messin' with my business."
The older boy chuckled and stomped out the cig. "He's got guts, though, for a fucking skinny kid. Good find. What's your name, yo?"
"Reno," Reno replied.
"You got parents? A last name?"
Reno shook his head. "Just the kids back at home. They need me. Take me back."
"Hey, I give the orders around here." The older boy slapped the back of Reno's head. "A kid with your spunk is just what we need around here. So I'm gonna make you an offer, and you're gonna say yes, okay? Or we're gonna kill ya."
Reno's jaw tightened. He didn't like the idea of agreeing to anything these boys wanted, but he didn't doubt that they would kill him. "Okay, what's this offer?" he asked, staring straight at the ringleader.
The boy spread his arms, smiling so the marks on his cheeks crinkled up. "This. You get to join the best motherfucking gang in Midgar. How 'bout it, kid? This is power, right here. You can get anything you want … drugs, booze, girls, whatever."
Reno wrinkled his nose slightly. He still wasn't tempted. But the boy to his left had a knife, and the one on his right had a gun. Reno nodded slowly, and he felt several large hands clap him on the back.
"Okay, kid, you're gonna be with Tiny Tim, here. He'll show you the ropes, yo. Tim, get your ass over here, you're with the kid."
Reno's eyes opened a bit wider … Tiny Tim was a mountain of a boy, rippling with the kind of muscle most adults spent years developing. He cracked his knuckles, looming over Reno and showing his teeth.
"You need me, I'm Bones," the ringleader said. "I run this here dump, yo. You got a problem with the way I do somethin', you tell it to your fat-ass dead mama cuz I don't give a flying fuck, okay? And there's no cryin' neither. If you cry, Tim's gonna punch you. And if Tim punches you, you don't wake up, got it, kid?"
Reno stood up even straighter next to Tiny Tim. "I ain't afraid of nothin'. It'll take more'n this hunk of meat to scare me, yo. And I don't cry neither. Why do all of you guys have marks on your faces?"
Bones leaned down, staring right into Reno's eyes so he got a good view at the marks. "Kid, you has to earn these motherfuckers. Talk to me in a few years and we'll see." He ruffled at Reno's bright hair, but Reno ducked out of the way and pulled his hood up.