Title: Boy Soldier
Author: Neldluva FFVII
Pairings: None, or lots, depending on how you look at it.
Rating: NC17
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. The OC's are mine, though. Don't steal.
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: A further introduction to the Turks. I just have to say … I love Tseng. Yup.
Author's note: This was a fun chapter to write. That's about it. I just really like stuck-up Tseng.
Monty walked up to the interrogation room, still feeling at his recently Cured broken nose. Turner was standing outside – to Monty's surprise, he had been the first to volunteer to babysit the brat and make sure he stayed in the room and out of trouble.
"Is he calmed down yet?" Monty asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"Yeah … the little shit's smokin' away. I tried to tell him it was a non-smoking room and he laughed." Turner narrowed his eyes skeptically. "We want this kid for a Turk? I pity his partner."
"Beggars can't be choosers," Monty said with a little smile. "We'll see if he passes training. Call Tseng and Veld and make sure they're here to watch."
Turner nodded shortly and swept off, leaving Monty alone in the hallway. Monty took a deep breath and twisted the knob.
As expected, the redhead kid was sitting calmly at the table, enveloped in a cloud of smoke. Monty suppressed a smile. Perhaps they should have taken his cigarettes away when they were searching him, but the gun had been the more important item. The kid smiled at him, but there was nothing childlike in the expression. Monty just lifted his eyebrows. He'd had to stare down tougher guys than this little runt.
"Hey, anyone gonna tell me why I'm here, yo?" the kid asked, putting his feet up on the table. "I didn't do nothin'."
"Oh, is that right?" Monty asked, thumbing through a thick folder. "Then it wasn't you who killed Alexander DeVrie, alias Bones, earlier this morning?"
The kid's eyes turned a little colder, but he didn't let anything slip. Smooth. Monty glanced back at the one-way mirror, knowing Veld and his second-in-command, Tseng, were watching.
"But we're not here to talk about what you've done," Monty said, setting the folder on the table and sitting across from the kid. "You ever heard of the Turks, kid?"
"The name's Reno, yo."
"Okay, then, Reno. The Turks are ShinRa's special command. We aren't SOLDIERs, we don't receive the Mako injections and we don't fight wars. We win them. We perform a variety of tasks, including surveillance, investigation, assassination … as well as the occasional bodyguard job for President ShinRa and his son. We get to use toys that make this little thing look like a peashooter." He dropped Reno's gun on the table, staring steadily at him. "We want you to join the Turks."
Reno sat back thoughtfully, looking at the cigarette in his hand. "What's in it for me?"
"You get to live here, on the Plate, rather than in the slums. ShinRa is more than willing to provide for your every need … food, shelter –"
"Sex?"
"Perhaps." Monty let a small smile curl his lips. "You would join an intensive training program designed both to prepare you for being a Turk and to test you. You would receive an education in all areas, including vehicle and firearm handling and explosives." He raised his eyebrows again. "Sound interesting?"
Reno narrowed his eyes. "You mean … I get to stay up here, and I get to shoot things and blow shit up?"
"Yes, in addition to other, more grueling tasks. Becoming a Turk is not easy, and not everyone is made for it. But I have seen you in action, Reno, and I think you could have what it takes. At least it would get you off the streets for a while."
Reno thought hard, trying to find a down side. The most obvious one was that he would have to leave Essie behind, alone and unprotected. That didn't sit well with him, but he couldn't exactly go back to her anyway, not after killing Bones. But otherwise, he couldn't care less about what happened to the losers back in the slums.
"Okay, you got yourself a deal, yo," he said at last, finishing off his cigarette and snubbing it against the table.
"Perfect," Monty said, smiling wider. "Come on, Reno, let's get you bathed and checked out, and then you can eat."
Reno matched the smile and stood to follow the suit. "Hey, why else you think I agreed?"
"What do you think, Tseng?"
"I don't like it, sir. That boy is a good-for-nothing streetrat. Gutter trash. He was a prostitute. The only reason Monty picked him up is because he saw the kid shoot some other boys in a gang war." Tseng's features pinched into themselves with his displeasure. "Not Turk material."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Veld replied. "From Monty's description and our own observations, he seems very resilient. He did survive in the slums."
Tseng frowned deeper. "We both know that Monty's mental faculties haven't been the same since Brenna's death. He should be sitting at a desk, not attempting to recruit." He shifted his feet and stared at the still-smoking cigarette butt. "That child is nothing but trouble, sir. I do not feel he should be allowed to participate in training."
"He will go through the training, Tseng," Veld said firmly. "If he passes … well, you may be working with him in the future. Try to accustom yourself to the possibility."