hello hello hello! Regular updates!

I decided to start a new thing: question corner. If you have any questions about me or the story or anything, just ask me, I'll answer it at the end of each chapter. I always wanted to ask questions to the authors, and I know some of you are like that. So here's your chance.

Moonshine's Guide - the game was... well, I never finished. I stopped playing after I got sick and tired of chasing Sephiroth around. Besides, in the final battle he looks like a squid (I'm not kidding), and I didn't want to see Squid-Sephiroth. I had also reached the point where I won't be seeing Reno anymore, so I didn't see the point of playing. Cloud just annoys the heck outta me with his constant whining... he's pubescent and angsty and I can see that in high school.

Raspberry Polar Bear - a bit slower chapter this time. I kinda like this chapter, especially when Reno's dreaming... lol. Finally decided on the ending... the ending involves Ivy a lot, heh heh. It's kinda cute, really. I personally think action can only be fully described in movies, since the reading makes the speed go a little slower. Anyway, in this chapter we see little clues that while Reno and Arien aren't heated up, it's more stable.

Echo the Ethereal Swordmast... - We see Michele in this chapter. Yeeey! Yep, I know Xholic, because I was a big fan of CLAMP until... well, they stopped X/1999 in middle of the story. That was very disappointing. Mokona used to be white, you know, in Magic Knight Rayearth. Yes, her crush on Rude will actually get somewhere in this story... Rude apparently had a tragic love story, but that just made me roll around on the floor laughing.

Crazy Bubbling Blonde - I don't think Reno knows how a lot of things work, just that they work. Yes, the Reno in this story is based on someone I know; the Reno from the movie is based on one of the creator's neighbor, which kinda scares me, because Reno from the FFVII series is... crazy. Like, OCD/ADD crazy. Reno does make millions a week but I think he thinks more payment the better... not that he can use all the wage he makes.

Chapter 14: Lesson of Survival

A few days later, the couple found themselves sitting in Seventh Heaven. The two, who more or less had always been on the move, were exhausted. Reno finally decided to dispatch Rude for the next mission, not wishing to risk the total collapse. Elena, who had not exerted herself as much as Reno or Arien had, was working on the recordings brought back from Junon, and was always in her office, with a "DO NOT DISTURB" sign on the door.

One look would have told anyone that Arien DeVir was mentally exhausted. Her eyes no longer spoke, her mind numbed by the tiredness. Constant tension and the sense of danger had worn her out, rending her into a quiet being that refused to be exposed from the shell. Physical exhaustion can be recovered in a night or two, but the mental fatigue would require several days to recover. Reno himself felt tired. They desperately needed to rest in their own house, and both of them knew it too well. If they went on, they would collapse, leaving leadership and the execution of the plans to Rude and Elena. No matter how good they were, two weren't enough to complete the missions. They needed to make sure that they were normal human beings, that the recent days were not normal.

It was late into the night, and there were no other customers. The former Avalanche crowd had become less tense when they dealt with the Turks, and although they never let their guard down, both parties were relatively relaxed with each other. It did help that the heir to the Shinra fortune, Reno and Arien's son, was indeed named after Vincent Valentine. Since the former Turk was on the Avalanche side, Arien's trust in the gunslinger was nearly an automatic pass into Seventh Heaven without hostility. And then there was the Kadaj fiasco, when the Turks had openly aided Cloud Strife. All in all, it was neither forgiveness nor friendship, but it was a truce nonetheless.

They both look tired, Tifa noticed. They were out of uniforms, although without doubt they were armed. Turks were always on call, ready to act, ready to attack and defend themselves, literally chained to do Rufus' beck and call with one hit of a button. Tifa saw that Arien - and Reno, for that matter - were constantly checking their cell phones and beepers. That was what they were trained for. If SOLDIERs were created to fight, the Turks were produced to strike then retreat. They knew no regrets, and they worked tirelessly, for whatever purposes.

But these two looked exhausted. One who knew no better may have said upon looking at the redhead, clad in a stand-collar tight leather jacket and black jeans, a silver hoop in his left ear, that he did not look any different. But the Turk leader, clad in black, looked slightly off. It was weird, how they preferred dark colors even when off duty, as if they were unconsciously getting ready to melt into the shadows when they chose their clothes.

His partner, who was dressed in a navy blue sleeveless turtleneck and also in black jeans, fared no better. There was no vivacity in her tonight, no bursting energy that drove her forward without hesitation to her goal. Her expression was almost ghost-like, vacant.

But both Cloud and Tifa knew that once they perceived an attack, they would explode into action.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Tifa said to the two of them. They were seated at the counter, glasses of liquor in front of them. Marlene and Denzel were already in bed. Both of them knew the Turks – Denzel especially, whose father used to work in the Shinra headquarters – but the Turks had committed too many crimes to become a good influence on the children, Reno in particular. Arien had a slight bit of moral; Reno did not have the word in his dictionary. There was no crime, whether it was illegal drinking, threats, endorsing prostitution or drugs, that Reno had not tried. Some habits got stuck; others, like getting high on hyper potion, Reno stopped it after the first try. Some habits could get you killed.

"We were busy," Arien replied wearily. Even her voice sounded tired. "Lots to do. We weren't really in town."

"How's Rufus?" Tifa asked as she wiped the last of the dishes away. She wiped her hands on a towel, then came around and sat at the counter, next to them.

"He's doing fine," Arien replied again. "He hasn't changed much."

"We didn't really expect him to." Cloud had left his table, and was approaching the counter as well. Reno frowned slightly – he wasn't exactly a big fan of the "Chocobo Head" – but said nothing.

"Arien?" Tifa asked, knowing that she was treading on the thin ice. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"I've always been wondering… do you ever feel guilty for… you know…"

"No, I don't," she replied, raising the glass to her lips.

"Well, your victims."

"Nope." Arien cracked a grin, and Tifa was startled. Her eyes bore no malice, no hedonic desire to kill. This wasn't a killer because she wanted to be a killer. This was a killer because it was her job.

"We're screened for lack of morals and integrity, Tifa," Arien explained, a slight hint of a wry smile on her mouth. The fighter was not entirely sure if she was supposed to take that literally or figuratively.

"It's a job. It pays the rent, yo."

Yes; Turks were like that. They sold out their services, even their souls, to Rufus, because they were under contract and Rufus happened to be the highest bidder. They never worked for free, but as far as they got paid, they did anything. Sanity, morals, integrity, all those humane virtues went out the window; the Turks lived day to day, because they weren't too sure if they'd see the next dawn. A lot of them ran to hedonistic pleasures, like sex and drinking; other tried to drown themselves in their work.

They were still the dark side of Shinra Company. Well, Shinra was still the Weapon Merchant in a way, wasn't it? No matter what kind of PR Rufus was trying to sell. Oh, he'll sell it well enough; Rufus was good at manipulations like that. But Turks were a symbol of the Shinra Company in way; ruthless, money first, selling their souls to the highest bidder.

How come they don't go insane? Tifa wondered, then amended her thought. Maybe they were insane. But since they weren't allowed to go to psychiatrists, nobody really knew. Until such state of chaos and distortion became normal for them.

They must have hurt when they first killed, Tifa thought. When did they stop caring?

Or maybe they didn't care in the first place. Maybe that's why they could join the team; "The elites to clean the crap", as Reno would say. Maybe they didn't have a heart. Maybe…

Watching the cool profiles of the Turks who were intent on just drinking, million questioned rushed through Tifa's mind, all of them unanswered.

What Tifa did not know was that yes, they did care. Once. Long time ago. But that was long past, and neither of them did not really care if their subordinates or their enemies died in the most gruesome way possible. All that the two had in their minds was to get done with the job as soon as possible. Just because both of them were off the mission list didn't mean that they were off the job.

"I don't know how exactly to train the second generation Turks," Arien confessed in her office.

"Whaddya mean?"

"They aren't mako-treated. That makes them fundamentally different from us. They don't have our speed, or our stamina, or…"

"Okay, I get your point," the Chief-in-Command of the Turks replied to Arien's list. "How many are alive?"

"Well, out of the entire class which consists of twenty or so, about eight."

"Wow. They died out fast." Reno whistled. "We need to reorganize the newbies."

"Why?"

"Because Tseng the Righteous said so."

"I want this girl," Arien said, pulling out a file, which showed a photograph of a girl with red eyes. Miaka. "Rude is too quiet, you're too crazy…"

"Hey!"

"Elena's just like her. I want this girl."

Reno, ever being the pervert, twisted the innocent sentence into a statement full of sexual innuendo, and grinned.

"Not that way."

"Right. We have what? Eight left?"

"Yes."

"Alright. I think we get two each then." Arien silently pitied those unfortunate souls who got stuck with her partner. Fatality rate usually shot up when Renaldo Miller was involved.

"And we're gonna use Rion for the next mission."

"The librarian goes assassin?" Arien looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"Because we need someone who's not officially associated with us, and to be honest, Michele annoys the heck outta me, yo."

Arien put the paper down, and hooked a loose strand of hair behind her ears. Her face looked paler than before. She looked up at the male who was sitting on the edge of her desk nonchalantly, knowing well that she hated it when he did that. "Reno," she said coolly, "I happen to like Michele."

"Yeah, because you two are girls!" At this sexist comment, Arien's eyebrows shot up. He ignored her expression. "Anyway, we're gonna ask Rion to do the job."

"And who's the unlucky one?"

"This chick," Reno said, showing the sheet of paper like he was showing the royal straight flush. Arien took it from his hand, and read the file. It showed a small picture of a woman, brown haired with large eyes and a very red mouth.

"What does she have to do with anything?" Arien asked.

"Rufus wants her gone."

Arien looked back at the file again, read the name, shaking her head.

Mildred Feruche.

Scarlet's sister.

Arien's team consisted of Miaka Vorna Cousteau and a male named Foster Trident. Personally, Arien wondered who could name their child with such a bad taste. Foster Trident sounded like a brand of toothpaste. But she kept her mouth shut.

Miaka was shy and soft spoken; she was one of those who looked like an albino, with silvery white hair and blood-red eyes. She had less cleavage than Arien herself, and looked like a twelve year old. She had a small face like a child, but according to the file she was twenty-five. Not much different from herself.

She could see that the young girl – well, woman – got walked on a lot. She also could see that Miaka did not like it. She was smart, she was capable, but her drawback was that she never spoke up. Big mouths like Reno got into troubles, but timidity didn't get Turks anywhere. She was physically capable, she was mentally capable, but the two opposite emotions – trying to prove herself but also fearing reprimands – fought within the Turk Junior, making her look like a child even more. Arien decided that her goal with this one would be to show her that she could do everything, make her more confident within herself.

Foster Trident was the exact opposite. He was probably going to be Zack/Reno number two, which meant trouble. Miaka would be too easy; Foster would be too disobedient. A young man – almost a boy – with mischievous brown eyes, a nose that was up in the air and a thin mouth that was always taunting in one way or another, the black-headed newbie was going to be a problem. He was also older than her, which meant that he would probably not listen to her at first.

But they might balance out. Arien had to give it a try.

"Right then," she said as the two stood in front of her desk, "I'm Arien DeVir, Commander of Informational Tactics of the squad. Basically what I take care of is information that deals with missions and basic tactics." She looked at the two of them steadily. "We do get into accidents, but we try to stick to the original plan. Making the plan is my job."

Miaka was listening intently. Foster was not. This was going to be discipline number one. Arien opened the desk drawer and brought out a pistol. All Turks kept weapons around, whether in the office, on themselves, or in their houses. This one was one of them. She casually unlatched the safety with a loud click, then pointed it at the raven-haired head.

"Trident," she said coolly, "you listen to me, or you die. Idiots don't belong on this floor, and you're convincing me that you really don't want to be here."

Foster tensed. Arien put the gun on her desk.

"You won't be doing anything exciting for a while, not after one of your colleagues managed to kill couple of others." She meant Andora; the two knew it. "Chief-in-Command sent down an order requesting the best explosive to use in a small, confined space so it will kill the enemies but not damage the building structure. I want you two on the research. Understood?"

Unanimous nod.

"Good. The necessary files are on your desktops. I want a fully detailed report day after tomorrow."

"Commander?" Foster opened his mouth. "May I ask a question?"

"You may."

"Are you Chief's girlfriend?"

What an irrelevant question. Arien picked up the pistol again. "Big mouths can get you killed too. Do you want to try if I'm saying the truth?"

"DeVir."

"Arien?" The voice made Arien smile; she was alone in her office. Otherwise she'd never smile. "Hello, Michele."

Arien became acquainted with Michele on one of the minor missions. She was born in Wtutai, but that was all the Turk knew about her acquaintance. She suspected that Michele herself didn't know; she did not really care. She also happened to know that Michele had the world's 43rd biggest crush on Rude, the first being Rude's crush on Tifa. She was usually calm, but for some reason coffee set her off into a bout of hyper-active period. Reno was always annoyed with her, which puzzled Arien, since Reno could be just as hyper-active. Strip a man of all the common sense, inhibitions and logic, slap on animal instincts and knowledge of everything dark and unmentionable, let him hold weapons and you got Reno.

"How are you?"

"I'm doing fine, thanks." She flipped a pen in her hand. "If you're trying to talk to Rude, he's not here."

She heard an embarrassed cough. "That's not the reason I rang you up."

"Oh?" She voiced her curiosity.

"I recently got asked to eliminate a family," Michele explained. "Reno paid me to pass on any information to you regarding Shinra Company."

"Reno paid you?" That was news to her.

"Yes."

"Who are the family?"

"The husband works in one of the Shinra network companies."

"And?"

"The name's McKinnon."

Arien kept her mouth shut; she was afraid that she would voice her surprise. "Who asked you?" Arien asked finally.

"Someone who called himself HM. I don't know what that means."

"Who's the target?"

"I'm supposed to go one by one," Michele detailed. "Youngest to oldest. The kids, then the wife."

"Husband?"

"I'm supposed to keep him alive."

Arien swiftly wrote a memo to Reno, detailing what Michele told her. "Thanks, Michele," she said, controlling her voice. "Your information means a lot." She heard Michele hang up, and replaced the receiver onto the set, frowning at the memo. She knew that git was the one who had kidnapped her son, and for that she was going to execute him in a most painful way possible. HM were the initials of the cult that kidnapped him. A connection was there somewhere, but why kill his family? How did it connect?

She stuck the memo into an envelope, wrote "CC, Turks" and left it on a junior's desk.

In the meanwhile, Reno was making a phone call to another assassin, namely Rion Vox. Reno didn't like Michele, so he opted to use the librarian. Arien knew her well; she often took Vince to the library when she had free time, and Rion always gave Vince candies, which had to pass screening before Arien could feed it to her son. He also had a relationship with Rion in the past, when he was still in training to be a full-fledged Turk. That was long time ago. After her, many women came and left his bed, then Hurricane Arien came to his life with all the problems she could muster.

"Hello, Reno," said a low voice.

"I have a commission for you. It's off the books, I'm paying you in cash."

"Hmm." He could just imagine her lower her midnight blue eyes, her brown ponytail shaking as she shook her head. It was her habit when she talked on the phone. "I'll have to hear about it first."

"I can't send you the file unless you agree."

"My labors are expensive."

"Name the price."

The price she named was full within the budget he was willing to pay. "Okay," Reno said nonchalantly into the phone, "Agreed. Meet me on the second floor of the New Building at 10 tomorrow. I'll give you the file and the payment." He hung up before he heard the reply. He was bored. He hated desks, he hated files, he absolutely hated paperwork. He also hated making decisions for others; in his mind, you made your own decisions and took the responsibility for it. Being a leader of any sort didn't really fit him.

He stretched, yawned, and decided to do what he used to do when things were nice, explosive and ordinary for him; he put his head down and took a nap.

"Sir?"

Reno was dreaming. He was dreaming that there were ten beautiful buxom blondes all around him, wearing nothing visible. They all crowded around him, adoration in their eyes, their hands releasing him from the confines of his clothes.

"Sir?"

In came Arien, armed with a handful of hand grenades, removing the pins and throwing them into the midst…

"Sir!"

"Ah, fucking Shiva, Arien!" He shouted, watching the women literally explode into smithereens. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"Because Tseng ordered me," Arien replied serenely…

"SIR!"

Reno woke up, frowned; he didn't like the fact that his ten buxom blondes turned into mincemeat, he didn't like it that it was his girlfriend who brought about their gruesome deaths. Trust Arien to ruin the fun.

Then he realized that he was not alone. In fact, there was a Turk junior – he had no idea which, he didn't really bother to remember their names, most of them would be dead anyway – holding out an envelope. Addressed to "CC, Turks" in a handwriting he knew so well. He knew the hand which wrote those sharp letters intimately, and the body that the hand was attached to.

He waved the junior away with an irritated expression, and opened the envelope. Inside was a sheet of paper, with writing on it. Same handwriting, explaining that someone was ordered to assassinate the McKinnons, starting from the youngest, up to the wife. The commissioner was only identified as "HM", the note said. No name, but Reno knew damn well who it was from.

He really didn't care if Esile McKinnon and the two offspring became Tonberry food. What he did care was that HM – he guessed that it was the same cult that stole Vince – wanted something from Jack McKinnon, the very person who kidnapped their sun. The question was, what did they want? Where was the connection? His mind reeled at the possibilities. What was going on? He did not like any of it. He hated all of this "shit".

"Fuck."

Reno poked at the mess on his plate dubiously. "Is this really food?"

Arien shrugged. "I think so. I wouldn't know." She pointed at her plate, which was filled with what Reno called "rabbit food". "I'm eating salad."

Reno sniffed it, decided that he wasn't going to eat it. "I ain't eatin' this."

"Your choice." She pierced a tomato with her fork. "You're going to get hungry. We have a sparring session this afternoon."

Reno hated it when Arien was right; she said it calmly, as if she knew she was right. Well, she was, but that wasn't the point. She rubbed it in his face without realizing it; women were all like that.

"I thought the old Shinra Tower's food was a piece of shit," Reno commented loudly. "This is worse."

"Complain to Rufus."

Reno did end up eating food in the end; Arien had snuck out and brought food for him, not willing to comply with the constant complaints. She knew she was probably going to get docked a week's wage for that if anyone found out, but for her, Reno complaining – and doing his best to get people annoyed – was even worse. Besides, Reno couldn't dock her wage for bringing him food, could he? She watched as he ate what he called a "good meal" – it looked like an assembly of all the grease and sugar one could get. Arien seriously wondered if Reno's body wasn't going to give out soon with overload from all the crap he shoved into himself. Apparently not.

After lunch was basic combat training for the Turk juniors. The two headed to the changing room, neither of them willing to do the next task. Elena had been there already, probably finished her lunch early in the office, came down before they did. Arien guessed that Elena was already in the training arena, steadily beating up the poor juniors.

The training was more like "let's all beat up the Turk juniors"; Reno, Elena, Rude, Arien, Tseng, Vincent, all of them had gone through the training, but didn't really like it. Nobody likes their ego pruned, and the Turks – whether it was thirty years ago or at the present – didn't really intend to teach. All they intended to do was fight with all they could, which meant that the juniors were going to be hosting series of bruises in the end.

"Do I really look like Sephiroth?" Arien asked as she looked into the mirror in the changing room, changing into the practice suit. It was white and baggy, just like karate suit; Arien had put her hair up in a tight ponytail.

"Huh?" Reno finished tying his belt. His suit was identical to hers, except for the front; Arien's was right side on top, while Reno's was the left. "Yeah. Sort of."

"Where?"

"Huh?"

"Which parts of my face?"

Trust a woman to ask such a silly question. Reno shook his hair out of his face, looked at her reflection in the mirror. He knew the face so well, in so many expressions; in pleasure, in agony, in anger, in joy. A face like a mask, made of brittle glass. "The nose and the mouth, I guess. Why d'ya ask?"

Arien looked into the mirror again. "Just wondering."

The training arena was just like any other fighting arenas. There was a mattress, wired off like a boxing ring. Twelve of those filled the spaces, with benches and vending machines lining the walls. Elena was already there, dressed in a similar outfit, delivering a solid punch into a male junior's face. The other six were paired up, sparring against each other; the last one was quietly punching a sandbag.

"I get your protégé," Reno told Arien. "Which one is it?"

Arien pointed at a slim girl who was fighting a blond giant.

"Okay. You get the giant then."

"Thanks," Arien said wryly.

"No problem, baby." Reno walked to the ring, motioned the two to stop. He tapped on the giant's shoulder, and jerked his finger to Arien, who was waiting behind him.

"You're sparring against DeVir," Reno ordered. "Get off."

The giant trotted off. Reno climbed through the cords into the ring, assessing the girl.

The girl was not so young; maybe around the same age as Arien. White hair, red eyes. An albino? He wondered. Almost no breasts, with a childish face and a small body. Just like a child.

Reno knew Arien's body well, both in combat and in bed. Arien was not fragile, like this girl. Steel wires were not fragile; neither was she. She was not muscular like Rude or himself, but she could really pack a punch when she wanted to.

Should he beat the crap out of this girl?

Hell, why not.

"Yeah," he said to himself, then took a fighting pose. "Okay. Attack."

She came in, her leg swinging around to kick, which Reno easily dodged. He delivered a solid chop into her chin, sending her flying backward onto the mattress.

"Lesson number one," he said, waiting for her to stand up, "Don't get ready to kick. Just do it."

Arien faced the giant, seeing Elena send Foster into the mattress for the fifth time since she had arrived. Elena was aggressive; she kicked, punched, and chopped like she really meant to kill the boy. He must have made her really angry, Arien thought absently, otherwise she wouldn't be like this.

She focused back to her opponent. The giant was six foot five, easy. She, being five foot eight (or nine, depending on the day), had almost a foot disadvantage. The junior also looked like he had too much steroids. She knew he had assessed her as a slender woman with absolutely no muscles. An easy win.

We'll see about that. "What's your name?" Arien asked, looking up at him.

"Gould."

"Very well." She stood straight, raised her hand, signaling the beginning of the fight. "Charge."

Gould charged headlong into her, probably trying to slam into her. Arien casually sidestepped, chopped into his back. He reeled backwards, giving her an opening to whirl and kick into his stomach.

She did not even bother to see if he was on the mattress face up or down. Looking away, she waited for him to get up, charge again.

Before he even got to raise his arm for an attack, Arien's fist shot out, sending him backwards with a bloody nose. She looked around. This was boring. From the corner of the eye she saw Reno signaling her to stop with his hand.

"Stay there," Arien told Gould, and wiggled out of the ring. She walked over to Reno's ring, her bare feet pit-patting against the concrete floor. "What?"

"These bozos have no clue what the fuck they're doing," Reno elucidated with a very unsatisfied expression on his face.

"So? That's why we're here."

"Yeah, but if they just keep charging we can't teach them shit."

"And?"

"Spar with me."

"Why?"

"So they can see what it's gonna be like."

"I think they know what a real fight looks like, Reno."

"Nope." He gestured toward the juniors. "They think just charging means winning, but that can get you killed. They need to see a demo, ya know?"

Arien shook her head. "No way. Spar Elena. I don't fancy being black and blue for the week."

"Elena's out of breath. Come on, Arie." He grinned. "Scared ol' Reno will beat your ass? Don't worry, we'll have our nice exercise later."

Arien raised her left eyebrow, but saw Elena sitting on the bench, towel around her neck. "Fine," she snapped, hands on hips.

"I'll be easy on you, so you'll have energy for our little exercise later."

"Thanks." Arien pulled out the elastic from her ponytail, then redid her hair. Just because she knew Reno was better than her didn't mean that she'll give him extra advantage. If he was going to be cocky, she was going to play dirty. "So they can see what it's gonna be like"… fine. She'll show him what it really meant to have a street fight. This was no longer practice. It was going to be a real battle. Although Reno would probably beat her (again), she would give her best.

Who knows? She thought as she walked to the central ring. She might even win.