Hey guys! I have a legitimate excuse this time for the delay. I was in NY as a journalist (not really – scholarship stuff) interviewing runway models. I thought it might be cool to add some scenes from the backstage of the runway show, though. The models are SKINNY AS HELL. And their faces are caked in make-up, which I kinda found it funny.

The actual model and the clothes are based from the Spring Collection 2007 of Armani Collezioni (the male model and the second outfit) and Ralph Lauren (the suit). I can't design clothes to save my life. So all credit goes to Senor Armani and Mr. Lauren. (Oh, and if somebody is feeling like they really hate money, somebody BUY ME THE SUIT… joking.)

Insanity – Glad you liked it! Tseng is a little off the hook at the moment. It's a little weird to write him, though, because usually Tseng is displayed as slightly obsessive and OCD and proper and everything. Reno's always crazy, but he softened up a little bit, which I don't really like. I can't do anything about it now, though…

CookieKitten – Elena is temporarily insane… maybe. I can't really kill her off, that would break Tseng's heart :-P. Revenge? Maybe. I bet our couple is burning for revenge. I had a little revenge myself on the Jack character because I HATE HATE the guy who's the base of this character. (Sorry for the little outburst). But this revenge is yet unplanned. So I'll keep you on the hinge.

Raspberry Polar Bear – are you finished with your exams? I hope you did well. Yes, Vince is gone. Elena's insane. Turks never seem to have a good life. But then, that's part of their job. This chapter's a little depressing, a little icky, and a little funny, I think. I actually enjoyed writing the last scene. Going to the backstage was fun – it also made me realize that I can never ever be one of them (haha).

NarcissisticRiceball – Hey, Reno probably thought it was cool to pierce Vince's ear. Arien isn't being much of a use at the moment – she's crying her eyes out and she's not doing much else, which makes me want to slap her across the face and yell "WAKE UP", but oh well. I really feel bad for Elena and Tseng, though. Especially Tseng. Finally they were getting somewhere and then this stuff happens.

Moonshine's Guide – no, you may NOT kill Jack. I have an awesome death coming along for him. (I think I've made it obvious enough that I hate his guts…) he's a little embarrassing in this chapter. Arien will have the honor… but you'll see, I guess. I don't know if Elena will be alright. See, so many things have been unplanned in this story, and that's why I'm lagging.

Echo – OKAY, OKAY! I'll try. I don't want to kill Vince yet! Vincent Valentine hasn't come in with his sentient cloak and his weird skateboard (I don't know if that's a skateboard… it looks like one.) As for Elena – she won't die, because she currently has her leg amputated. As for her well-being, I don't know, because I didn't really plan Elena's plot thoroughly. But it'll wrap up.

Itachi349 – well, I'm glad! Since this is the 3rd installment in the series, some people are little daunted by the 60+ chapters. I'm updating as fast as I can, but because I didn't plan this one out as well as I did the others, it's a little tough on me. You even saved it on Word? Kudos to you! AND you read it from the beginning… (starts crying) I'm so loved by my readers… and I'm not really repaying the love… (feels a little bad)

Chapter 9 – The Turks on the Loose

"Uh huh, yeah. Gotcha…"

Reno had a phone under his chin, a pen in his right hand, a cigarette in is left. He twirled the pen in his hand, annoyed by the hysterical wailing that could be heard from the bedroom. Resolutely, he threw the pen on the desk, and marched to the bedroom, still sandwiching the phone under his chin.

"Put a sock in it, Arie," he ordered. "Bawling isn't going to find Vince."

Arien's whimpers abated. Reno returned to the office room, with a frown on his face. The guy on the other end was talking again; the head of the intelligence service. For once he was glad that Rufus remembered how to set up the conglomerate back to where it was in the system, if not in might. Although they did not have a massive army or tall buildings, each division was back to the way it was more or less.

"So you have a pen?"

"Uh… yeah." Reaching over for a pen, he knocked over an empty glass with his sleeve. He paid no attention to it. "Yeah."

"Alright. Get this name down. John McKinnon."

"John… Mc… Kinnon…" he stopped. "Wait. Does he work at one of our branches, Dyl?"

"Yeah. Know the guy?"

"Somewhat." He dropped the topic. "What about him?"

"He's the one who got the info on the kid, Miller."

Reno made a firm resolve to get the douche killed sooner or later, but his voice didn't show his murderous intents. "Right. Is he still at the branch?"

"As far as I know, he's on the satellite system in orbit but he's coming back to attend some party or something this weekend. He's teching up our spy satellite system."

What an irony. Reno sneered. The guy was signing his death sentence with his own blood. Oh well. His downfall was sealed when he sold the information to the rivaling company. It didn't matter, because Rufus made sure that the company was no longer in operation by having the president get into an apoplexy and die on his wife, but Shinra demanded absolutely loyalty to all employees.

"He sure doesn't do his dirty job…" Reno mused.

"What?"

"Nothin', nothin'. Thanks. Owe you."

"Yeah, well I'm sending the bill to the President."

"Yeah, make it pricey, yo." He hung up. He stood up and stretched; he thought that maybe Arien would be a big help, but all she did was panic and cry. It was unlike her, but then, it was her own child in danger. It was hypocritical, but what was he going to say? Tseng wasn't helping either; he was too preoccupied by the now one-legged Elena and her rehabilitation. Reno snorted. When he thought he killed Arien, he didn't keel over and bawl and stop coming to work, now, did he? Why were people around him suddenly so incompetent?

"Arien!" He shouted as he strolled down the hallway to the bedroom.

Arien raised her tear-streaked face, and Reno's anger dissipated. She looked pitiful, her usually pale skin looking like she broke out in hives. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her raven hair was in tangles. Tears streaked her face.

"Hey, Arie," he said, sitting down beside her. "Stop crying. We'll find him, don't worry. I promise we'll get him back safe, Arie."

Arien looked desperately hopeful. "You think he's alive?"

He kissed her. "Mm-hmm. When did I predict something and that didn't come out right? We'll find him safe and sound, don't worry."

She still looked a little dubious. Reno stood up.

"Well, I'm gonna go hound the trail, okay? While it's still warm."

"Where are you going?"

"Junon Spaceport," Reno replied. "Your little boyfriend seems to hold the key to the kidnapping. I think I'll wring out some information from the bastard."

Cid Highwind, Reno decided as he sat back and latched the seatbelt on, was a nutjob.

Who the hell would like to go into space? He wondered. Highwind wanted to go to space years ago, when the aerospace technology was still in its primeval baby stage and it made noises like whole bunch of midgets working the gears. Reno hated space traveling even now, when the aerospace techies were the hip things of the day and convenience and comfort were the two banners of the space journeys.

"Please plant both feet on the ground firmly and lean back onto the back of your seats," said the mechanical female voice. Reno disobeyed the commands with nonchalance. Those kinds of safety procedures never saved lives anyway. If you were going to die, you're going to die, was Reno's cheerful philosophy.

He felt his stomach sink and watched as the land suddenly dropped. He was airborne. For the duration of the trip into space and to the port on the moon, he was on the phone with his girlfriend, talking about nothing important.

He ate the plane meal, wondering if the 3rd class was any different from the business class he was on except for the leg leeway. The food was tolerable when consumed hot, but when it was cold, it was less than palpable. Reno finished the food as quickly as he could, scorching his mouth in the process, and slept a little. He was awakened by the loud blare of the female voice asking him to plant both feet on the ground firmly yadda yadda.

He got off at the moon base, then carded in his transit as a Shinra employee. "I need to get onto the satellite 154A," Reno explained in a sarcastic drawl.

"Authorization?"

"Administrative sector of the General Research, Shinra Company. Class AA."

Reno was politely escorted into a small spacecraft. Unlike the previous one, this was miniscule. He sat impatiently in his seat, took the luxury of walking around as he was the only passenger, and boarded the satellite as soon as the doors were locked in place.

"Thanks for the ride," he said to no one in particular. 'Okay. Time for business."

He grabbed one of the attendants who seemed to be eager to get somewhere. "I'm here to see John McKinnon?" he said to the petite, brunette female.

"Why?"

"Ask President Shinra, if you really need ta know, yo."

His idiosyncratic speech pattern gave away who he was. She goggled, then replied quickly, "He's in port 23. That's the second door to your left."

"Thanks, lovely," he said, walking away. The door was only a few steps away. He tried the doorknob, rattled it, found it locked.

Looking around and after checking if anyone was around, he pulled out his EMR. He flicked it on, watched as the electricity pulsed up the rod in vivid blue – like Arien's eyes, he mused – then gave a good whack on the doorknob. The doorknob shattered. He turned the rod off and kicked the door open.

Reno could see why Arien had a girlish crush on him during their schooldays. Slim-built with brown hair, he could have passed off as handsome if not for the short nose and an extremely tired, almost dead expression on his face. He was tall, but Reno observed that he stood a little taller. That was interesting. He wasn't exactly tall among the Shinra employees; they all tended to be tall. He was clad in a blue suit that seemed a little worn, and a white shirt. How boring.

He kicked the door shut. The man backed into the white wall.

"Hey, pal," Reno said cheerfully. "How ya feelin' today?"

The man made no answer.

"Ya know, my mum always said that it's impolite to ignore people's questions," he said.

"You're Arien's lover, aren't you?"

Reno's expression did not change, but he was surprised that his words bore such a grudging tone.

"As a matter of fact, yeah, I am," he shrugged. "What does that matter to you? I mean, yeah, she's definitely better looking than your wife, with killer curves and legs, but she ain't yours. You threw away the chance when it was dangling in front of your nose, yo. Your loss."

Jack was getting a little agitated, Reno saw. He decided that he liked it.

"But then," he continued after a thought, "if she got together with you maybe she would have turned into a drab stick like your wife. Maybe it's because of me that she's so wild like that."

"I'm not interested in this tirade," said the man in front of him in a very tired voice.

"Okay, I'll get to the point." Reno took a step forward; Jack was driven to the wall, and could do nothing except stick to the wall like a spider. "Where's my son?"

"Your son?"

"If you haven't noticed, Arien and I are lovers. Yeah, I impregnated her. And yeah, the kid you kidnapped is my kid."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't play stupid with me." He made such an act of pulling out his pistol and grinding its nozzle to Jack's temple. "You might wanna tell me now, because you're about to kiss your brain bye-bye."

Reno could almost see the calculations in Jack's brain. He sneered and said, "Yeah, you tell me now, they might kill you later. You don't tell me now, I will kill you, now. So make your goddamn choice, yo. I'm impatient, I'm horny as fuck and I wanna get back to Arie, and I really wanna shoot something."

Jack's face contorted in fear. Jack saw Reno's amusement in his agony, that he won't feel a thing by pulling the trigger, and he would actually enjoy seeing his brains splatter to the floor.

"Okay, time's up!" Reno said happily. "Kiss your brain goodbye…"

"Wait! Wait!" Jack whimpered. He felt he had lost the control of his bladder. Reno took a step back without the nozzle leaving his temple and said, 'Oh dude, don't pee on my pants, you shithead! Arie won't be happy."

"I was asked by these of men to kidnap your kid," Jack explained, his face now crumpling in fear and tears running down his face. Reno seemed to take even more joy in his humiliation. "They wanted me to get the kid and deliver him to this place."

"Where?"

Jack hesitated.

"Okay. Kiss…"

"The corner of Twenty-Second and Fifth!" John whispered. "There was a temporary hideout place or something there. I took your kid there."

"Okay. Anything else you wanna say?"

"I don't know anything else."

"Alright." Reno thought for a second if he should just pull the trigger anyway, and then decided that Arien should watch him die instead. He reholstered his gun, turned around, and walked to the door. Then he stopped.

"Oh, you might wanna clean yourself up before you walk outside this room, yo," he said grinning. "Catcha later."

With that and a flourish, he was gone.

Reno liked walking with Arien DeVir, but not when she looked like this.

Arien was a slim woman in the first place; she was tall, with not so much cleavage but with a very visible waist. Because of the vigorous workload, she ate more than he did (sometimes), but she usually maintained a decent look. But now, he wished he hadn't come back. There were dark circles under her eyes, and a haunted look in her blue eyes that was startlingly loathsome to him. It was obvious she blamed herself, but he wished she wouldn't take it to this extent. Her once-healthy body shape had disappeared, making it obvious that she was painfully thin. She had lost weight.

"Oh Arie," he said, throwing the duffel bag onto the sofa, "what's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" She snapped. "I've carried your child in my body, I've nurtured him, and I may not see him again. I'm sorry if this isn't impressive enough."

Reno bore her waspish tone and her agonized gaze without a word. Her hair had lost its luster, making it lank. She was in a sweatshirt and a pair of scuffed-up, dirty jeans. She was not herself. He knew she wouldn't be caught dead in these clothes if it were any other day.

"Well, Arie," he said quietly, sitting down next to her, "you can't sit on your ass forever. You gotta get moving, and I'm giving you an assignment."

"How can you even think to do that when I'm like this?" She demanded angrily. "I can't believe you!"

"Well, it might take your mind off some things," he said. "Your lover-boy cracked, so we don't need him anymore. I think it's time we say bye-bye to him. You get to wave the hand."

Arien looked away. "Killing him won't bring Vince back."

"Well, we gotta find him to bring him back, and I need you back in shape to help me find him."

"No, Reno."

Reno pushed her chin toward his face. "Did I just hear a no?"

"Reno…"

"This isn't a request from your lover, baby. This is an order from your commander." He gritted his teeth. "Now do it."

She tightened her mouth, her eyes furious. But she did say, "Yes, sir." Reno wondered if he had permanently pissed his girlfriend off.

Arien twirled around in front of the mirror. "I don't like this."

"Nobody asked you to." Reno sat on the bed, grinning. "But I do like the fact that my girl is the most beautiful person in the world."

"I guess you can have your opinion," she said wryly. "I'm really pale, aren't I?" She gazed into the mirror, thoughtful. "Maybe I should go to a beach and work on it."

"Arie, you don't tan. You turn lobster pink and then you can't take showers without crying." Reno grinned again, a little glad that Arien could at least talk about things other than Vincent. It was a little disheartening to see her so worn out over her son; it pained him to see her talk about her son. He was glad of his foresight to place a tracer on his son; he was keeping a steady track of the approximate location of his son. The problem was, they seemed to be underground somewhere, which made the job tricky.

He looked at Arien again. She hadn't put make-up on her face yet; the make-up staff would do that to her. Reno had managed to get her into the modeling staff on the runway show, and later, to the after-party. It was at this party that Jack was supposed to appear as a very minor but invited guest. Reno knew too well about Jack's type; pompous ass who tried to pass off as clean and gentleman but a lecher all the same. Most likely he'd come after her.

"I don't have to catwalk," Arien complained.

"But this way he'd see you more. More chance for him to follow you to wherever."

"If he doesn't realize it's me."

"Don't worry, he won't." He patted her rear end. "I'll be in the audience too, so look pretty."

"Why are you going to be there?"

"My guess is that someone high up wants Vince out of the picture," Reno explained. "Most likely he'll be there, maybe even contact McKinnon. I need to check."

"Okay." She shook her head, as if trying to drive away Vincent's presence. It hurt her every time she even remembered his name; it was almost unbearable. On one hand, she wanted to curl up in her bed and not get up. On the other, she wanted to hunt down the kidnapper and kill him. She tried to ignore the two impulses. "I'm glad I don't have to apply make-up myself," she said. "I'm a total imbecile when it comes to those things."

He scooped up a strand of her hair. "Yeah, you are." He looked at the cell phone on the dresser, then dropped it into his pocket. "Time to go, mannequin. Don't flirt with the models."

"I won't." She shrugged. "Hey, Reno?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me that we'll get Vincent back safe and unharmed." She looked desperate. "Promise me."

"I promise," he said sincerely. "He's our son, Arien. We're gonna get him back."

The backstage was bustling with activity, unlike the serene front stage. Arien wondered vaguely how anyone could live in this chaos. It was worse than the minute before Turks had to go out for some assignment, when everyone was in panic to get things right the last minute.

The woman who was doing her hair yanked the brush. She grimaced in pain, watching herself in the mirror as she was transformed from a member of an elite assassination squad to a… what? A human mannequin? Clever hands twisted her hair into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck.

A man dressed in a purple shirt bustled in. "My, what a gorgeous skin," he told his neighboring make-up artist. "She doesn't need any foundation."

"Wutaians have gorgeous complexion," the neighbor agreed.

Are these people all gay? Arien wondered.

"Okay, we'll start with powder. Close your eyes."

When she opened her eyes a few minutes later, she saw absolutely no difference in her face. But apparently he did a lot on her face. She frowned slightly, wondering what exactly the point of it was if it wasn't visible.

"Close your eyes," the man said. She closed her eyes, and felt her eyelids getting pushed this way and that. She felt her eyelashes getting pulled, something cold drawing a line around her eyes.

"Open your eyes."

I'm not a robot.

"Close your eyes." She felt a spongy stick rubbing onto the skin between her eyes and her eyebrows. Then she felt nothing, and then she felt cold liquid on her eyebrows.

What the hell is he doing?

Something like a pencil was being dragged across her eyebrow area.

Okay…

"Open your eyes."

She looked at herself and thought that someone else was there. Her eyebrow was more defined, her eyes colored in soft shades and dark hues of rose and pink. Her eyelashes were longer, casting an eerie shadow onto her cheeks. Her eyeline was extended on the top lids. She looked like an artificial doll so much that she felt slightly threatened by her artificialness.

"Okay, smile."

She tried not to move her mouth as a lipstick was applied onto her lips. Then another shade. Then lipliner. Then something sparkly. Then another shade on top.

"Okay, you're finished," the gay man said after an agonizing 15 minutes. Arien looked at her watch. It took nearly three-fourth of an hour to do her face.

She was rather glad that she was assigned a pin-stripe suit. White shirt, black tie, white pin-stripe suit with black stripes. A beige hat with a black band. She goggled at the black heels presented to her. It was almost like stilts.

"Okay, go get dressed! You have fifteen minutes."

She came out five minutes later, distinctly feeling that she was in her uniform. Another man – this one dressed in skin-tight black shirt with so much gel in his hair that she thought it had crystallized – fussed over her for fifteen minutes, straightening her collar, dusting her lapel off, fixing the hat on her head.

"Okay, okay! Get in line! Get going! Five minutes till the show! Come back in as soon as you're done with the first walk! You have another set!"

What?

She had no time to think, as she was jostled into her place. She was shown her pose – one hand on her hip, another dangling free – then she waited for her turn.

Walking under the spotlight frightened her. She was not used to being in any kind of spotlight. Now everyone was staring at her. Her feet moved her along. She struck her pose at the forefront of the stage, turned to the side, struck another, and walked back, passing by the next girl as she went in. The music was some woman singing, mellow and soft-beat.

"Okay, number 162! You're in this dress!"

"What?"

She had no time to question. Her make-up was hastily redone with a slightly different coloring. Her body was jammed into a black dress with white bodice. A fan was roughly thrust into her hand. She had to change her shoes. A flower was jabbed into her hair, and she nearly screamed when the artificial twig got caught in her hair and was yanked out. Modeling, it turned out, was a painful job.

"Okay! Pair up with #243!"

Pair up?

It turned out that she had a male model who was going to walk down the aisle with her. "Hey," he said. He was dressed in a white jacket,white shirt, and black slacks. He looked tan; she groaned inwardly, realizing that she would look extremely pale next to this man. He had slight facial hair on his upper lip; his eyes were deep brown. His hair was a little long, ear-length, parted in the middle. Brown hair.

"Okay! 162, 243! Line up!" yelled the coordinator. "243, pace with the girl. You know the works. Look good!"

He smiled at her. "Busy show."

"I got hot-potatoed from one person to another," Arien complained.

"Yeah, that happens. This is my third set."

"Third?"

"Yeah. The mens show is in the next room. And most of the suits feel like you're wearing barbed wire."

Arien found herself feeling completely alone under the spotlight, even though there was a man next to her. She stopped at the forefront again, with one flick of a motion spread a fan a little, then walked back with her partner to the backstage.

"You two are together for the final walk! Stay in your clothes!" The coordinator bellowed at them. "And don't sit! You'll crease the clothes."

"How much more do we have to go?" The man asked. The coordinator cast a cursory glance then replied, "About 7 more people."

"Not too bad." He shrugged. "Oh, by the way, I'm Amedeo."

"Arien."

"You're Wutaian?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I heard that they cast magic spells to keep themselves fit. Is that true?"

Arien cracked a grin. "No. We just eat differently," she said. "I'm really unhealthy, though."

"Obviously not, you're on this show."

"Thanks."

It happened moments before they were called. Amedeo sniffed the flower in the hair, then licked his lips, and said "yum".

As they lined up, Arien surmised that Costans must have overcharged sex drives. Her partner had just flirted with her within the first hour of encounter. She scrunched her eyebrows to the wall, making a face at the white cement. Modeling was definitely not going to be her second career.