Moonshine's Guide - Yep, Tseng is the priest... although he's kind of a renegade, I guess. He got the training but he didn't quite make it, at least in my setting. I've always wondered what that red mark was about. Bindis are worn by Hindus, and Wutai is clearly medieval Japan, so that makes no sense. You haven't seen the Matrix? it's a cool movie... granted, not as cool as AC, but still cool. Scarlet's last name is a name of a castle from Melanie Rawn's long-ass series that completely lost me after the first set of trilogy. I thought about using 'Scarlet" as the last name, but then I remembered that Scarlet is a first name. So hence the bizarre combo.

Echo the Ethereal - I've shortened your name because... it's long. Sorry. Are you okay with it? Anyway, I can't disclose Michele's weird role in the end, that'd be spoiling! Let's just say that it involves a telephone. While Reno's at the beach. Somewhere. And a pair of pink bikini. And a white one. And Tseng. Yeah, I think that's enough. Oh, and the infamous TURK CAMP (remember, from the first fanfic?) is going to be on stage again... which is going to be funny, because of certain incidents that will happen. I actually read all of Cardcaptor when it was on Nakayoshi... and X when it was on Asuka. That's about it.

Crazy Bubbling Blonde - I think around 30 chapters? Anyway, that "half" thing actually happened to me... I was with my debate partner at a national tournament and we were quite ill-prepared (SURPRISE, SHOCKING, right?). I was prepared but my partner (whom I picked solely because he reminds me of Rufus in appearance... apparently he has Reno's brains) told me he read half. I assumed he meant "half the research", but he meant "half the first page"! Reno is currently obsessed with the idea of Penis, which, according to Freud, just means that... erm... he's a jerk. And juvenile. But then, he is childish.

Anyway, I thank you three for still being with me, because I haven't heard from anyone else from ages... (tear?)

Oh, and I may have a delay in update next week... I'm moving from Chicago to London to start university, which, I'm sure, will be filled with Reno's except they would obviously look worse. Oh reno... where art thou... wait, he doesn't fit the Romeo role.

Ahem! Anyway...

Chapter 16: The Innocents

Those two… need to be tested.

What makes you say that, sister?

Look. A beam of light shot through the darkness. They need to be tested.

"The next strategem," Arien announced loudly, "is the dagger."

Rude had reported post-return that no, the cult did not have the dagger – assuming that they were talking about the dagger in Elena's translation– but he did manage to retrieve a sketch of what the dagger was supposed to look like from the deep dark crypts that no one really had any idea where it was. The problem was, nobody knew where the dagger was, or if it even existed, and Arien had decided to do something that Reno didn't like. She decided to lead their opponents, help them along the way. As far as anyone knew, the only way to keep Vince alive was to make sure that their sacrificial plan went along unhindered, and as Elena had pointed out, they would have much more chance at that with the Turks helping – unseen – than the assassination squad just trying to stop them at every chance they got.

"Do we go?" Foster asked. Elena scowled at such stupidity. Arien mentally braced herself for explosion. Reno looked blank for a moment, then started to bellow.

"No fuckin' way, Junior!" His voice was loud. "Who the hell do you think you are? Huh? Some kick-ass General? Well, let me tell ya somethin', you ain't a SOLDIER! You aren't even a Turk!"

"That's because you won't let us!" Trident retorted. Arien cringed, and saw Elena mirror her. Rude was standing behind the leader, but Arien could see that he obviously didn't approve of it. Was she that impudent when she was in training? Her conscience freely replied no.

"Let me tell ya somethin', Junior," Reno said, annoyed. Reno never bothered to remember the names until they were full members of the Research Sector, because as all Turks knew, most of them would end up dead anyway. He called everyone "juniors" until their names were officially on the squad roster. "I don't care if you die. Hell, I'd be glad if some of you died. But the President happens to like his gils, never mind that he bathes in them. And you-" he pointed at the audience, "-cost money. Damn lots of it." He took a sharp breath, then continued. "Every kick that Elena gave to you guys, that's couple hundred gils. That show Arien and I put up for you guys, we don't do that often, that must cost several thousand. We sure as hell don't do anything for free. Of course, our enemies see that kind of shit all the time, but we don't charge them, because they're usually dead when we're finished, and we can't make dead dudes pay. If you screw up, you're gonna be dead. And it's my ass – and the Turks' asses – that Rufus'll have if you die, even though he knows damn well that only two of you will be around by the end of this year! We don't care what happens to you, but we damn care what happens to us. You guys tagging along will get one of us killed, and god forbid if that should happen. Rufus'll get pissed, and you don't want the President pissed."

Silence.

"So, until you guys prove that you won't get killed the moment we get there, you guys aren't going anywhere but here. Got it, buster?"

"Actually," Arien stepped up, "I have a solo mission for one of you." She did her best to ignore Reno's angry glare attacking her; although, she admitted, if looks could kill, she would sliced and spliced and minced all over. "Cousteau, please come to my office at three o'clock sharp." The girl remained expressionless, but that gleam in the eyes – was she imagining it? Why did she look so eager?

None of the Turks on the roster had sported that kind of maniac gleam in the eyes for... well, forever. Unless the mission was something zany and insane, or a simple and brutal gunfight, or something equally messy. Then Reno would be there, a nasty grin on his face, looking unnervingly devilish and not in a good way either, eyes looking excited and eager. He was trigger-happy and often went postal more often than any superior would have liked. Hell, Reno took half the fees allotted for court defenses for the members of the Research sector. It was work, work meant... time away from just being lazy.

Or you were Elena during the first years, and that meant you either got yourself or some other idiot killed. Reno spent hell of a time curbing Elena's insane enthusiasm that often released too much information or tripped someone. Arien wasn't endorsing Reno's 'I-don't-give-a-shit' attitude, but certain cool was certainly necessary in order to complete missions without getting killed in due process. Enthusiasm blinded you, and blindness wasn't conducive to longevity. Reno's lack of care was a problem, but the opposite didn't bode well either.

"Dismissed," Arien said negligently. The juniors filed out quickly, eager to get out of the Turks' presence, especially the leader's. Reno wasn't like Tseng – he lacked the tact to put the buffer on words so that the Juniors won't be scared out of their wits. He was also reckless enough to kill someone if he felt like it. Most people who were privy to such information knew that the redhead often got pissed off for something no one understood and promptly shut the offender up - permanently. Dead didn't talk, but it caused paperwork, pain, and much headache to Tseng and Rufus. It also didn't help that the redhead was blunt and honest to the point of pain.

As the last one shuffled out – Gould, no less – Elena shut the door. Then turned around to the leader. "That," she said quietly, "was blunt."

Arien pulled out a chair from the conference table, the kind that was large with armrests, leaned back slightly and had springy cushions on the seat and the back, and seated herself. Then rolled herself over. The four now huddled in front of the large green chalkboard, the kind that rotated at the middle so you could use the other side when you ran out of space. Reno was standing in front of the large desk; Elena and Rude were to the left and right of him. Arien filled the last gap, seated, having more fun rolling around in the rolley chair than listening.

"What the hell did you want me to do?" Reno demanded to the blonde. "Sing them baby songs? Hell, being prepared cuts down half the risk. It might help not getting us killed."

"None of us had that kind of pep talk," Elena pointed out.

"None of us needed it," Reno rejoined. Elena fell silent. That was true; Elena herself was obedient, never questioned back, during her days as a trainee. And well, the others – they never were Turk Juniors, because they had all seen good amount of fighting and doing dirty work. Reno had risen from the slums; Rude was an operative in the Shinra Military; Arien was an Intelligence officer.

"The problem is," Arien started. All three pairs of eyes focused on her, although Rude's were hidden behind the shades. "The problem is, the Turk Juniors don't really have a clue what we really do. They see big paychecks, nice pressed suits, rapid firing guns, certain rights, and the general glitz of our job. They don't see that all we're doing is…"

"Cleaning up Rufus' shit."

"That's one way to put it," Arien agreed. "Rude, what do you think?"

"They think they won't die," was his terse reply. But it was a crucial remark. Reno was startled.

"Bud, you're a damn smart guy," Reno admitted. "I don't think any of them has seen anyone die before, apart from you know, disease and stuff." He thought for a bit, then grinned evilly. "I think the next one to talk back is gonna be a demo to the rest of them."

Arien had a good feeling that she would be losing her trainee. She also had the feeling that she would be reprimanded by Rufus very soon. She felt a headache coming on. She opened her mouth but closed it as three Juniors filed in.

"What?" Reno barked. He was still in a foul mood.

"Sir, we've come to protest," said Foster. Arien winced. She did not expect to lose her trainee this soon. Headache was slowly rapping on her mental door, and she wanted to shoot the damn thing and kill it.

"About what?"

"About Arien's selection." The other one nodded; Arien didn't know this one. "Why not one of us? Why that skinny wimp?"

"That's Arie's decision, not mine. But maybe you didn't get picked to go do some cartwheel because you're bad at learning lessons." He leaned back onto a large, brown desk that sat in front of the chalkboard. "I thought I told you not to talk back, yo."

"Yes sir, but…" He shut up, permamently, mainly because Reno had cracked his head with the stun baton that was fully charged. He fell onto the floor slowly, blood trickling down between the eyes, then crashed.

"You still haven't learned it," he drawled. "And guess what, Junior? Turks don't like idiots. You've just proven to be one of them. Elena, discipline this guy, would you?"

Elena said nothing. Arien was glad that the floor was linoleum, not carpet. That would make a mess.

"Stand in the corner," Elena ordered, steel in her voice.

"Uh…"

The four Turks glared at Foster. That made him move.

"Good." Elena pulled out a gun from her jacket, aimed, and pulled the trigger, all in one fluid motion. The bullet hit the forehead, right in the center. Foster's eyes widened as though as he was surprised, then the body slowly crumpled onto the floor. Blood oozed out from the forehead, staining the linoleum floor in deep crimson. A stench of metal filled the air.

The last one was dumbstruck with horror. He tried to leave, but Reno caught his wrist.

"So? Any other bickering you'd wanna say?" He asked in an unusually calm voice. "You might wanna say it now, so you won't regret it when you follow that Junior." He pointed at a corpse in the corner of the room.

"N… no, sir!" The Junior stammered. He tried to leave the room again, but Reno's grasp was firm.

"When the hell did I say you could leave?"

"S… sorry, sir! It won't happen again!"

"Reno," Arien said in an exasperated tone of voice, "let him go. He's going to wet himself, and the janitors will be mad at us if they have to clean up blood, brains, and urine."

"Go." Reno released his grip of metal. The man fled the room.

"I shoulda done that long time ago," the redhead said disgustedly.

"That poor boy is going to have nightmares," Elena said, amused.

"Yeah, but you were nice, 'Laney," Reno returned. "Coulda been much more painful."

"Like you?"

"Yeah."

"So," Arien interjected, "where exactly are we going to get this dagger manufactured? We can't exactly ask a jewelsmith, you know. It's too complicated."

Reno and Rude looked at each other. Rude's mouth twitched, and Reno turned to face the seated Turk. "I know just the guy, yo."

Knock knock. "Come in."

Miaka Cousteau entered, looking tense and nervous. She stood silently, waiting for Arien to speak. Arien said nothing; instead, she sat back in her desk, and observed the girl. Yes, she looked exotic enough to do the job.

But by all the gods, she was not yet fully trained. And Arien did not have the time to train the girl, not when Rude, Reno and she were scrambling to get their things together to leave in 30 minutes. Elena was on duty; that ruled her out. The young girl was their best shot by far.

"Cousteau," she said softly, "shut the door, and take a seat."

The girl obeyed, her steps rigid with tension – or fear? Surely Reno's nonchalant execution was all over the floor now. And Arien, for the better or for worse, was one of them – heartless killer that destroyed anyone and everyone who got in the way. She sat, back straight.

'Tell me," she said, clicking on her mouse and pulling up her file, "how much have you dealt with missions?"

"?" Miaka's expression was puzzled.

"Missions. Our kind of missions."

"None, ma'am."

"Anyone you know who has dealt with missions? Be honest," Arien said gently. Miaka shook her head.

"There were some people who escorted missions, but only as bodyguards, ma'am."

"Not an operative?"

Shake of a head.

"Alright." She planted her elbows on the desk, and rested her chin on her clasped hands, looking straight into Miaka's crimson eyes. "Cousteau, I need you to do something for me. I will inform you of the mission details later, but right now I want you to take lessons from two new instructors." She took a sheet of paper, and briefly wrote the addresses, the names, and the phone numbers of two acquaintances that she knew very well. "These will instruct you," she said, not disclosing in particularly what Miaka would be instructed in. "I want you to obey their orders for now, until I get a report that you're ready. Alright?"

"Yes, ma'am." Arien expected her to stand up and start to leave, but Miaka did not. Her eyes showed a twinge of apprehension, curiosity.

"Question?" She prompted.

"Yes, ma'am. Um… I don't know if this is appropriate, but…"

"I give you permission," Arien nodded. "Ask whatever you want."

"Chief executed Foster and Rin, didn't he?"

Rin? So that was his name, the Junior whom Reno had killed with his EMR. Well, no point remembering his name now. So the word was already on the floor. Well, that kind of news traveled fast. Arien nodded.

"Would you have done it?"

"If I deemed it necessary, yes."

"Do you do those things all the time?"

All the time? Arien pondered. Did she do killings all the time? No. Did she do it often? Yes.

"Not all the time, but often, when the orders come."

"Do you…" Miaka paused, and Arien nodded to encourage her to continue. 'Do you feel anything?"

"You mean, do I feel any emotions during the kill?"

Nod.

Arien simpered caustically. "I used to," she said in a brief, matter-of-fact tone. "But you'll get used to it. You'd have to," she added, "because one moment of hesitation, one stop, can get you in bad positions. Remember-" she saw herself aiming at Reno, unable to kill, "-you might not want to kill, but they will kill you, if you don't."

Survival of the fittest. It was the rough world. Those who were weak were useless, eliminated without fuss. Only the cunning, those who were willing to throw away everything but the desire and the instinct to survive lived. Emotions were fatal, hesitations and pauses not allowed. Nerves tense and the whole body conditioned to be alert at all times. Carelessness killed more than guns and knives.

"Be innocent while you can," Arien said softly. "Because you don't have much time left."

"Why exactly are we in Bone Village?"

"We're here to see Keymaker."

"The keymaker?" Arien asked, puzzled. "What do we need keys for?"

"Not the."

"Huh?"

"Just shut up."

Arien had told Reno that she had set Rion and Michele to give Miaka crash courses in basic assassinations, if such things could really be taught. That wasn't her expertise, so she left it at that. Then Reno calmly informed her that Rude, he, and she were to leave on the chopper to Bone Village in half an hour, which nearly sent her in a panic attack. He had also told her that he would like to have one of her earrings. Not from sentiment, but for self-protection; Arien knew that as a female she would never be able to overcome a male if the skills were matched, and so she sported arrays of hidden weapons about her. With knives, darts, gunblades and pistols, she was literally a walking armory. Her earrings were one her defenses. It was an old Wutaian protection method, the earrings; they were made of simple silver, thin tear-drops. Once the dangling charms were pulled out from the studs, it revealed thin needles that were coated with lethal poison. A drop would kill, Arien had told Reno once. He wanted one of those earrings. That just gave Arien more worries. Wordlessly, she pulled off the dangling thing from her right ear and handed it to him. He had taken out his silver hoop from his own ear and replaced with hers.

After much scramble to get things together, the three found themselves in Bone Village, armed and ready. Except that Arien didn't really have a clue where they were going, or for what. She wished she knew. She was hardly comfortable without having any sort of directions.

They walked through the small village to the very end, where the lines of houses ended and seedy locations such as bars and brothels began. Arien was having a very bad feeling about this. Why the hell couldn't it be Elena?

Oh wait. Elena was exhausted after the long arduous process of translating the damn wall. That was why Arien was here, not her.

Arien's bad feeling hit home as Reno casually led them to a brothel, the worst kind too. The door creaked, and there were no signs on the door. It looked decrepit and dilapidated. Mice and cockroaches scuttled in the corner. The floorboards creaked and the wallpapers were peeling off from the walls. Arien smelled the familiar smell in the shack. Brothels always smelled the same way, with the stench of stale sweat, cheap perfume, booze and cigarettes, and the redolent odor of sex, mixed together to produce an aroma so vulgar and disgusting. Rude, with his good nose, sniffed. A puddle of old vomit defiled the floor in the corner, and the lower portion of the walls sported urine stains. Soft grunts and increasing screams reached her ears, and she saw Reno smile slyly, seeing her grimace. Loud ragged breaths, some female voice demanding more gils. Yup, the worst kind anyone could get.

"Ladies first," Reno said with a crooked grin. Arien cast a worried glance at Rude, then to the redhead.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch. You'll be fine."

"If you are trying to make me go undercover as a whore, you might as well as do it yourself. You'll be able to pull it off."

"Thanks, yo," Reno responded caustically. "First you dent my penis and then you dent my ego. Nice going, chickie."

What was up with Reno and his privates?

Arien entered the brothel, ready to attack if any movement looked suspicious. Reno's light footsteps and Rude's heavy ones followed.

There was a bouncer standing right in front of the door; Arien stepped into the shadows before the bouncer realized that she was there. She was good at melting into the shadows, hiding in nooks and crannies, generally skulking around; Intelligence officers made that as a profession. She expected Reno to do the same, but to her surprise, Reno just casually walked in, grabbing the full attention and alert of the bouncer. He probably wasn't as fast as they were, and he was not equipped with proper weapons any sane man would Well, sane Turks. But that was an oxymoron, wasn't it? Arien quickly focused back onto the present situation. Reno was talking with the bouncer.

"No admittance," the bouncer said like a recording. Reno shook his head and sighed exasperatedly.

"I'm a Turk."

"No admittance."

"Do you wanna die, yo?"

"No admittance."

Reno was getting frustrated. He got close to the bouncer, close enough that their shirts rubbed against each other. Arien saw a slight motion in the arm, and realized that whatever he was doing, it was a silent threat for the bouncer.

"No admittance."

Reno's eyes flashed, sending a warning sign to all those around him. He was not used to not getting his way with some cruddy bouncers, and he certainly didn't like it this time. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and his hand gripped the EMR that he was jabbing against the man's privates. The man went rigid, not from pain but from an anticipation of a fight. Arien automatically tensed as well, and she felt Rude doing that right behind her.

" Reno!"

Arien disliked what she saw. She saw a woman waving at the redhead, a big smile plastered on her face. Her hair was dyed electric blue, and was curled so violently that she looked like corkscrews were stuck to her head. Her eyeshadow was gold, she looked extremely pale, obviously had enlarged breasts and her lips were painted crimson. Fake eyelashes. A wave of cheap perfume hit her nose, and she heard Rude cough behind her. She was dressed in what probably was supposed to be a white strapless top but looked more like a sticker, and a pair of jeans cut so low that there was no possible way that she could be wearing underwear without showing it. She was in silver stiletto heels, and her nails were painted purple. Arien blinked, her eyes assaulted by an array of gaudy colors.

"Hey gorgeous," Reno flashed a grin. The girl tapped on the bouncer's shoulder and told him that yes, she knew him, get out of the way and let him in. Rude followed the redhead, with Arien in tow. As she passed the girl, she saw her stuff a wad of gil down her breast.

"This way." Blue light flared down as Reno turned his EMR on, an electric blue beacon in the hazy darkness.

How did Reno know? Had he ever come here before? Probably. For business or for pleasure? Arien wondered, then quickly knew the answer to that question: there was no way on Gaia Reno would go to a brothel to purchase an hour of physical pleasure, because he didn't need to. He could have his pick if he wished; his money and his suavity had its ways, didn't it? Women used to parade through his bed; that was the past, and as far as she knew, it remained as the past. Still, the thought of so many women's hands on him set fire on her jealousy so strong and so vivid that she nearly stopped breathing. Since when did she become so possessive?

The brothel was dim with so few lights that Reno had to squint. But he seemed to know where he was going. She wondered why the counter wasn't at the front, as Midgar brothels had back in the days. Then she amended that the customs must be different. There were no bouncers to be seen, but no doubt they were here, somewhere. That did not make her feel better.

Oblivious to Arien, Reno was counting the doors. "Three… four… five…" He stopped suddenly, and gestured the other two to get ready to fight if things went wrong. Then he turned the metal doorknob. The door creaked open.

Inside were two men, armed to the teeth and probably about twice the size of Reno. They were huge, and they looked menacing, and they knew it. An ordinary, sane man would have immediately closed the door and ran for it. But the Turks were hired for the exact lack of sanity. So Reno stood his ground, nightstick firmly in his hand, a crooked grin on his face.

"I'm here to see Keymaker," he said. Rude closed the door behind him. Arien noticed that the man to the right could probably flatten Rude if body sizes were all that mattered.

"You can't. He won't see nobody," said the big one in a gruff voice. Reno lost his temper.

"Look, I've come from The Edge on Turk business, and I ain't goin' home empty-handed. So either you let us see him and let him decide if he wants to see us, or I'll kill you with my bird and feed you to the birds for a nice dinner. I'm sure the birdies outside would appreciate fresh meat."

"No."

Arien didn't catch him move, but all of a sudden there was sickening glop sound and a dull thud. Aided by the soft light that came from a tiny lamp in the corner and her nightvision, Arien saw Reno's middle finger covered in what looked like blood, clear fluid, and bits of ocular nerves. And bits of brain. Reno liked messy kills, and this was no exception. He shook his hand happily to get the mess off, and Arien crashed into Rude as she moved away so the bits of brain didn't get on her uniform.

"Still wanna say no?"

"…" The smaller one moved away hastily. Reno shook his dirty hand carelessly.

"Feed him to the birds for dinner. I'm sure they'll like it, yo." He opened the door on the left wall. Arien blinked as her eyes were assaulted with bright beams of light from the bulb on the ceiling. It was a medium-sized room, where a wrinkled old man sat at a table, surrounded by a dozen or so men. Well-built, scars all over their faces.

It wasn't the keymaker. It was Keymaker, as in a name. Arien understood Reno's previous cryptic comment. She stood in the back, letting Rude stand beside Reno. She jammed her hands in her pockets, felt her legs through the pocket lining.

"How are ya, old man?" Reno asked cheerfully. The old man glared at him.

"I'm not doing anything."

"Yeah, well, you can tell me later." The redhead was not listening. "Listen, it's a Turk business. We'll pay you good. Up for it?"

"I'm not interested in money."

"Then what the hell are you interested in? Booze?"

"Who's behind the big one?" Keymaker pointed a frail finger between Reno and Rude. "The girl?"

"You're interested in women?" Reno looked astonished. "Uh… right. I mean…"

Keymaker wasn't listening. He lowered his hands. "Bring the girl to the front."

The two men who stood beside her crowded in, grasped her arms. Reno looked at Arien, then the two beside her. "Don't touch her," he warned.

"Oh, so she's yours, eh?" A toothy grin appeared on the wrinkled face. "Very well… I'll do it."

"Fantastic." He pulled out a debit card out of his pocket. "30,000 gils. No name, redeemable anywhere."

"No, I want more than that."

"What the hell do you want?" Reno inquired, flipping the card between his fingers, impatient.

Keymaker observed Arien, raped her with his eyes. She did not move, and her face remained expressionless. "I want the girl. For the night."

If Keymaker expected the Turks to look surprised, he was in for disappointment. None of them changed a muscle on their faces.

"Deal," said the redhead. "I'll pick her up tomorrow." He turned, gestured at Rude. "Oh, by the way…"

"What is it?"

"I'm not responsible for the damage she causes."

"Oh, no worries." Keymaker waved his hand, telling Reno to get lost. "My boys are good at keeping me safe. Besides, she's a Wutaian, isn't she?" He leered. "I haven't had a Wutaian girl for so long…"