When Rude met Reno

by Vitalini

Its not easy being a Turk, but what does it take to become one? While Rude is discovering what it really means to be a Turk, Tseng finally thinks he’s found a way to calm a certain redheaded devil causing havoc in the Turk department. Join Rude and....

15. Office work? It could be worse

A/N: Great apologises for the wait and I know (particularly the end) there is likely to be a lot of grammar mistakes that I did not see. If they get pointed out early I will probably change them.

Merry christmas 2010 and I hope you have a Happy New Year 2011
(Ah time flies where is my life going)

---

The murder was precise, only one bullet required. The entrance wound was perfectly between the victim's eyebrows, delivered by a trained hand at point blank range. It could not have been a lucky shot. Nothing about the scene or the victim gave any impression of lucky. Death generally didn't but in this case slick professionalism was certain.

Street police and inspectors had become used to unexplained, finely executed killings occurring now and again, although they were quite ignorant of the greater number occurring between now and again. It made no difference, these cases were soon made cold and they went back to valiantly chasing street gangs and fighting back mobs or drunkards, they did not even question the fact their shelves would seem a couple files fewer every so often. Had they been at the scene though, they would have known who was responsible, the same way a seasoned Turk – usually the first and only investigators in most cases of murder– knew.

However Tick and Thatch did not and the case quite concerned them or at least until the mid afternoon.

"I would have thought you'd have figured it out by now," Blackwell said when the hour struck precisely 3 O'clock.

The pair of junior Turks looked up from their collection of notes and samples, some of which they were debating if they should bother sending to the labs for some sort of testing. They were not certain what sort, their own tests yielded nothing that wasn't the victims, but it seemed like the right thing to do with evidence.

"Figured out the Murderer? It's only been a view hours." Thatch replied defensively while his partner frowned at the unfamiliar face waiting for him to introduce himself. By true convention of his generation Blackwell was all business.

He was what the department now considered a Solo. A Turk without a partner and the only sort in the weaning stages of the company, the whole partnership business had sprung about because most of the Solo's were less effective when a situation became a matter of numbers against skills. Numbers had a tendency to win. As the company got more powerful, with appropriately rising antagonism and risks, having someone reliable to watch your back was a more fashionable notion. Blackwell despite this remained independent and tight lipped about all matters except the ones he wanted to say, pleasantries were not his thing. Although whether this was old Turk teaching or because he was also the kind of Turk who'd originally been a condemned criminal –of many trades- was a matter of discussion. Tick who was unaware of any of this thought it rude that the man did not introduce himself. "Most would have got it when they walked through the door."

"So you know?" Thatch asked with enough eagerness it warranted his partners disapproving frown to be placed on him instead.

"I've got the file on it with me." Blackwell then proceeded to slide a yellow folder across the desk, disturbing papers and knocking off a bag of evidence. The two juniors ignored this and opened the file. It was a mission report, in Blackwell's own neat and fluid handwriting that was so fancy it hurt to read. It detailed everything from the time of entrance to the victim's apartment, the time the victim came home, their last actions right up until they felt the eyes on them, turned round and ended up dead before they probably even saw the gun. There were some notes on retrieving the bullet but that was the gist of it. The pair looked at Blackwell bug eyed.

It happened rarely but sometimes miss communication caused Turks to be investigators of their own department's crimes. Oh it was a good laugh for veterans, they could find the committers, make a joke report and hand it all to Veld together but for the two Junior Turks it was a moment of serious education. Like most of the Rookies they were aware Turks had a bad name for a good reason but it was something new to see it confirmed and look into the grinning eyes of the culprit. It stung as well, particularly for Thatch who'd fancied a future as a private investigator one time in his pre teen years and had been enthused trying to figure out the mindset of the murderer by the evidence just as it was in crime novels. Tick had had his suspicions; they were trained to kill in this manner after all but he guessed in hindsight there had simply been something more appealing about a rogue but extremely talented killer they could hunt down.

Turning to go Blackwell said over his shoulder, "Sorry to disappoint you kids, try not to be so naive next time alright."

xXx

After two hours Reno paused in his dictations to Rude about the details which needed to go into the report, this allow an opportunity for the bald man to strike up some casual conversation and solve some curiosities he'd been mulling over.

"Why did you come and find me early?"

They were sitting in Reno's cramped little office area which was nothing more than a cupboard lined with filing drawers in the walls from floor into ceiling. It was situated in a far off corner on floor 57, a rather private and lonely location. A ladder, a narrow table in the middle, desk light and files resting on every available shelf space had somehow been cramped in as well. There wasn't even a computer or ceiling light. At odd intervals other employees who Rude didn't recognise had strolled in and put their own papers into one of the drawers, nodding their head to him but most completely ignored Reno or noticed him with the slight raise of the brow as if surprised to see him there. Then they'd look between Rude and the redhead, formulate their own opinion of what was going on and leave.

Reno stopped scribbling and bit the end of his ball point pen. Rude wasn't concerned he'd interrupted his fellow's work as it was progressing into a fairly decent sketch of the wastes but doubtfully vital for mission details. "Oh I was looking for my PHS and just stumbled across ya."

Rude allowed an appropriate amount of time to pass before responding, "You lost it?"

"Temporally misplaced," Reno emphasised. Rude thought it was easier not to argue.

The redhead went back to dictating the parts Rude needed to fill in while scribbling his way through his own pile of papers – actual words though he had put the drawing to one side. They were nearing the end of one box of unfinished reports and Rude promised he could have a break when he had finished. They were lucky Reno was capable of writing about one thing while speaking about another, an art apparently he'd picked up off Arisa who liked to gossip through paperwork. Rude had made reasonable progress but there wasn't much he could do, he felt a little guilty as Reno had been much more helpful in the space exploration department. But then this sort of paperwork required details not just shoving things into the correct piles. It did not help that Rude also thought his comparatively large frame was making the confined space more claustrophobic. So when Reno finally threw down his pen and indulged in a exaggerate stretch his large companion was more than eager to get out and get some coffee. Glancing at the time showed it was approaching the twenty two hundredth hour. The time had flown by.

"Oww," Reno whined, flexing his bandaged hands as they slipped into the corridor – the door did not open fully on account of someone dumping a wagon of broken equipment and water coolers in front of it. Rude did not comment but he privately thought his hands wouldn't hurt as much if he had not indulged in accompanying illustrations such as the wastes picture. That being said he appreciated the redhead's humour, a particularly sticking image was one of a cartoony, determined Gremlin and bored Boundfat doing something implying with the caption 'What happens in the woods...stays in the woods.' He hoped Veld would appreciate it to.

Reno led the way through the short criss-crossing corridors. It was night outside and on other floors this was compensated by brightening the lights so everything inside was sharp and detailed. This floor and the floor above didn't seem to follow that rule. It's wasn't dark, but they'd turned off the white lights used during the day so only electric blue or green cast off the metal walls and shiny tiled floor. It had a rather beautiful quality to it but otherwise it felt empty. No natural light entered the corridors, there were no potted flora for decoration and every door locked automatically. He couldn't hear anyone else apart from themselves but he could sense people in other rooms. The atmosphere could have been suspenseful if Reno had not been whistling.

Relying on Reno's direction as he was still adapting to the new place, he thought yet again how training to be a Turk and actually being one couldn't be more different. Suddenly everyone treated you were expected of those above you and those in other departments to naturally know what to do and do it well. Before that what you did not know was explained, there was little expectation of you to actually be competent, it mostly came from yourself. They'd had some opportunity to study the computerised maps of the floor on their PHS but for some reason Rude had never got around to doing it. Just last week he'd have been shocked with himself for such laziness and he was rather ashamed of his lapsing standards but then he needed the sleep more.

They stopped in front of an unsuspicious door, as dull as all the others and in an undistinguishable location, about three quarters of the way along a corridor full of identical doors on each side. Rude supposed it was as good as any place to have a lounge. The door slid open revealing a rather well lit room, no windows still but some fake plants in a corner was a thoughtful touch. There was a sleek counter at the back and cupboards, presumably for cups and mugs and other things people used in breaks. He could pick up the distinct hum of a fridge or two as well. It was warm, the air felt like clothes straight out the dryer and smelt like it to. A running theme he was picking up with Turks, a sense of hygiene and cleanliness. In the academy, trainee Turks were noticeably better dressed but in a building that was shared with others of varying career paths the collective habits weren't as noticeable. When all the differences were removed the traits were glaring.

Despite the temperature the appearance of the room was cold and straight lines, the walls were still metal and the floor tiled, even the soft coloured sofas were angular and positioned regimentally, two rows facing each other across tables. It wasn't as big as the lounge they'd used as the rookies temporary HQ and had the air of a waiting room until you hit the mini kitchen area but Rude liked it. They could have done a lot worse.

"You like?" Reno asked in a manner that suggested he knew the answer while examining the taller man's unmoved face. Rude nodded.

"Good, I'll make some coffee and you can just do something." The redhead sauntered across the room, momentarily peering down a row of sofas as he did. Somehow he managed it barely making a sound. Rude knew travelling as quietly as possible had been part of their instruction, it wasn't compulsory and tended to come to people eventually but some were better at it than others. Reno was clearly one of the better ones and Rude was still surprised he managed to do it, the younger man's manner was still deceptively careless and the rookie had rapidly developed a parental eye, the sort that watched a child in a store full of glass. He wasn't the only one, anyone who'd been in the young Turk's company were subconsciously alert for something to go wrong. Still he was one of the few people who took notice of the things people usually missed, it was so easy to be distracted when it came to the redhead. Like how he could easily steal anything even under trained noses or how he would crawl up a wall of drawers as if it were a ladder. When he'd done that it took Rude's brain a moment to remember that wasn't a particularly normal thing to do. The redhead managed to balance these inhuman feats with equally unexpected episodes of clumsiness. Such as after scaling the wall and coming back down as easy as you please he immediately turned and tripped over his own chair.

Rude approached a glass coffee table with had a small pile of books resting on top; Rude idly picked up one and read the cover 'Tropic of calculus by T. Lehrer'. Interested he flicked through the descriptions of simple mathematical calculations. Mentally doing some of the example calculations, after so many he began to wind down and he felt clear headed enough to skim to the chapters on purer more complex math.

When Reno returned, he stomped his boots like a normal person and Rude looked up just in time to be smacked by a swinging jacket, knocking his shades askew. The coffee was placed on the table with momentary care and then the redhead jumped and flopped onto the sofa opposite with a healthy "Thumthp".

"What're lookin' at?"

Rude held out the book and Reno stretched forward to read it. He pulled a disgusted face and relaxed back his arms behind his head, Rude would quickly find out this was his customary way of 'sitting' on a empty sofa, he'd even do it knowing someone was going to sit down next to him immediately after.

"You don't like maths?" Rude asked a little perplexed.

"I'm not that good at it."

"But the entrance exam?"

"Kinda Cheated remember, not good with the mental stuff," Rude vaguely recalled this but he also recalled it had been a long day and a late night, "I mean I can do it but it's not fun. I do just as well guessing the answer near the end."

"Guessing the answer," Rude replied, smirk shooting to the corner of his mouth. Any decent mathematician knew that beyond estimations being out by even a few decimals could mean something catastrophically wrong had happened further up the line. It meant the formula was not being followed right, a plus had occurred instead of a multiplication or they'd happened in the wrong order, you'd rounded the numbers too soon, got the roots mixed up etc.

"Yeah, I have 49% accuracy on my last test, down by 5% from last week and still nowhere near my previous average."

"What was that?" Rude asked in an amused manner used to oblige small children, the drunk or the insane because in theory they did not pick up on it but everyone else in the room did.

"71%" Reno replied so factually and certain you almost believed him. Rude took a moment before he shook his head. That kind of luck did not exist; beside it did not mean anything, not if you couldn't do the maths right. He did not say anything out loud and when Reno indulged in his drink he did so as well while returning the book to his face.

The hum of the fridge or the lights was annoying when there was nothing distracting you from it and the maths was no longer distracting enough, especially when his tired eyes were having trouble focusing on the small print. Stubbornly he chose to wait for Reno to start up conversation again rather than consider himself weak and escape the buzzing noise himself. Good interrogation practise, he took pride in his mental endurance.

Conveniently the young man had a small bout of coughing. It was nowhere near as bad as the body rattling attacks he'd had around the tournament but they were still an unwelcome reminder Reno was not really in the best of health. It also refreshed the fact he was still covered in bandages, something familiarity tended to gloss over. He'd been wheezing on and off in his little office as well each time causing a bubble of concern in Rude but that swiftly popped by the youth's convincingly energetic rambling that immediately followed, and which Rude had to somehow make notes of. Now though he felt he would mention them, "You getting any better?"

"It's just a little lapse in concentration, got other stuff on my mind y'know but I think now the excitement the big haul of you rookies will calm down and you'll be picking up the slack I'll have more time ta get the knack back. I was partially working it out to a point, now I'm just stopping shorter the usual mark because like I said got other stuff on my mind." He looked at Rude in a manner that was supposed to be meaningful, or Rude supposed he was suppose to get some meaning from it but he was more concerned the redhead still thought he was talking about maths.

"I meant you're health."

Irritation flashed across the younger man's features, "Imma picture of health."

"For a Zombie," Rude hadn't meant for that to come out but around Reno, or around him in a non professional atmosphere, things slipped out. He knew it was better to be the master of your words than to be a slave to them, and he had learnt to master his words to his teacher's approval or say nothing at all. He felt shame that such honed skills were leaving him without the aid of some inebriate.

Reno's soured expression turned a little uglier; the state of his condition was a touchy subject. Well it would be if you'd been prodded for many hours of the day by so called doctors who did nothing they hadn't done before and admit letting the body fight it off naturally was the safest course and really just pray nothing worse developed because he was a time bomb now that could go anytime so maybe just overdosing him with Mako products would swing it so he'd see the end of the year this side of death. They did not say as much but Turks knew how to read between the lines.

There was a long pause, "Sorry," Rude said.

"Nah," Reno gave him one of those innocent smiles. They seemed the sort of reserve expression he pulled when he could not come up with a better one and it was an improvement to the ugly look which he'd seen the redhead give Marko – it was more insulting than if he had regarded Rude like something off the bottom of his shoe. It made him doubt the authenticity of the smile though. "It was kind of funny. Reports make me forget to have a sense of humour."

That was slightly paradoxical, Rude thought, considering the silly little pictures. Rude had got accustomed to the redhead doing one thing and saying another or visa versa already, categorising it as a personality quirk. Other people found it aggravating or obnoxious. "Soul stealing buggers," Rude offered with an unusually inviting chuckle (for him). It had the desired effect, the redhead laughed a little as well. It all came off embarrassingly awkward for two seconds but at least everything seemed alright again.

"Didn't take you for a swearer." Mischief was dancing in the air and across the glass table, the young man radiating it, like Rude had flipped a switch.

The Rookie shrugged, "Swearing was invented for a reason." He wasn't normally a man prone to swear but that was just another little slip of standards that seemed okay around Reno.

"And they say I'll be a bad influence on you," The redhead snickered looking at him with something akin to admiration. It gave Rude a warm feeling inside that had nothing to do with the coffee. He wondered if this was a feeling that made big brothers so eager to look good in front of younger siblings, but then squashed the thought as he'd never felt it with Youji who surely had been like a brother to him. "Now if Tseng calls me up on bad mouthing I can say you do it."

"That's childish and I'd rather you didn't."

"Everyone treats me like one anyway and you're no fun so you're opinion doesn't count." Rude expected the tongue and it came.

"That's not logical reasoning."

"Swearing isn't logical." The frown on Rude's face spoke of his inital confusion and prompted his companion to explain himself, "Well why do those words that only come out when you're not thinking do that? Like when people get so, so mad profanity just pours outta their mouths and y'know what part of your brain just goes 'alright I'm mad so now my vocabulary will be limited to these words that really I don't use.' I mean why don't you start saying a load of stuff like tail feather, pots, dirt, dogs, chair, bucket, swindle, and your mother smells like ripe tonberry."

Rude smirked, "I think it's because taboo words are the insulting kind and when you're in high spirits like when you're angry, you want to hurt and rebel and those are the words you know that fill both requirements."

"So if you swear, you're in high spirits so not a master of yourself which is why Veld and Tseng don't like it because it means you're more likely to make mistakes and it shows weakness." Reno responded as if he was just thinking this now but Rude could tell he'd thought of it before. He registered it as another good quality of the Turk; at least he seemed to want to hear what other people had to say. Surprisingly he was not that bad a listener either, or at least was good at hearing things you'd rather he did not, such as every time the leather material of the sofa squeaked when Rude moved the redhead would give him one of those looks. It was a mercy it was just them in the room, he would have be embarrassed otherwise.

"Makes sense."

"Still were the words invented to be obscene or did they become obscene and like who decides if their obscene or not. You think if I started calling Scarlett a Banshee as if I was calling her –"

"Yeah," Rude promoted so the kid did not swear, not that it would kill him or really offend anyone but there was the principle of it.

"-the bad word we're both thinking, would that become a bad word?"

Rude shook his head, "Too much like the truth." Reno laughed, "and I think it would depend on how you said it and if you called other people it and it caught on."

"Well what would banshees be called?"

"Banshees I guess. Some swear words actually have definitions like a child born to unmarried parents and a female dog, probably why they became taboo in insulting or frivolous contexts."

"Wutain have different bad words you know." Reno said, suddenly with the stuffy airs of an academic.

"Well it is another language."

"Yeah but the original definitions are different."

"You know this how?"

"Tseng swears in Wutain all the time," Rude was a little surprised by this; Tseng came across as a man fully in charge of himself. "Y' know when he's not cursin'. He curses more though. Apparently you haven't completely lost it if you curse so it's okay." Reno tapped the side of his nose.

"I'll remember that." Rude smiled, the kid pulled really amusing conspiratorial faces. It was pure entertainment just to watch him, especially when he talked about their superiors.

Reno drained the last of his cup in one big gulp, "So should we get back to the soul stealing b-"

Rude hand automatically shot up to shush the redhead's cheeky mouth. Whether swearing was a big deal or not he did not want the word spreading he was some foul-mouthed, bad influence. "Yes I think we will."

"Okay," He turned to leave and said loudly, "Bye Virgil hope we didn't disturb you too much."

"Just go away and take your bad influence with you." A rather seasoned, drawling voice sounded down the other end of the room.

Rude felt ill, he thought they'd been the only two in there. He hastened after the redhead whose gait had become a peculiar prance with the caffeine circulating in his system. As soon as it was just the two of them in the corridor with the door firmly shut Reno whispered to him, "I like Virgil, he doesn't like me so much but he's a good Turk- with a name like that'd he'd have to be- and he has dry sense of humour or maybe I just find him funny I can never tell." He paused, took note of Rude's discomfort and swiftly figured out why, "Don't sweat it man, ya still a comparative green horn in the business. Virgil's been here almost as long as Blackwell and he's been here almost as long as Veld, around the time we first started getting called Turks. You've got training and a couple of days, they've got more years than I have on Gaia doing this job, it'd be insulting to them if you'd known he was there."

The rookie supposed he could take some comfort in this while Reno carried on his voice getting less hushed as they moved further away, "I mean they wouldn't have lived for so long in this business if they weren't exceptional." Rude just nodded but the ill feeling persisted coupled with the renewed humility. It took Reno an hour and a half of jabbering through reports about unlinked titbits of stories or gossip before Rude stopped dwelling on it. More importantly he invited Rude to his training regimen the next morning, it rekindled the rookies dwindling motivation and spurred him on to complete the reports, which they just managed on the dregs of their caffeine fuel.

Tired as he was, and now admittedly sick of the sight of forms Rude wished they'd been more for tomorrow at least. If nothing else it meant he would have the perfect excuse to stay out of his apartment and away from Marko.

"You alright big guy?" Reno asked. Rude shook his head and noted the redhead was by the door. He'd stopped functioning halfway through shoving his last pile of files into their designated drawer and a vibrant blue eye was surveying him with concern. "Ya tired. Academy stuff don't much prepare ya for these kind of hours, I shouldn't have let ya help me." He looked down at his shoes so Rude could not see his face but his body language told the bigger man enough. Despite some guilt he liked the company more. Rude felt similar, it was not fun work but he liked helping the peculiar young man. To show this he finished putting the files back, walked up to Reno and placed one of his heavy hands on a bony shoulder, gently but firmly and smiled. Maybe because it was late it felt like a long time before Reno responded in kind, grinning and pushing his hand off like an embarrassed younger brother in a soppy moment. "Alright, I get it I get it...but yeah I'll see ya tomorrow and don't be late. Tseng don't like slackers."

"Wait, Tseng?"

But he was already bounding away. Rude gave chase but two corners later and the redhead had disappeared. Rude took a left then stopped short.

Right, where were the elevators again?

xXx

"That would explain the catatonic symptoms the Turk described but to stall the growth of all the remaining specimens, which was your supposed aim, is laughable. You know nothing of what is incubating in that body and I will not allow you anymore reckless attempts to interfere with my research. Go over my department again and I will take this matter straight to the President."

Scarlett eyed the detestable, old man in front of her with venom letting the lash of his impudent tongue slide off her before stepping forward. Nature had gifted her with natural height and her blazing red high heels from Midgar's most highly paid shoe maker had given her a couple of inches more. It gave most of her feet a safer distance from the stained and slippery floor even if it did not elevate her nose high enough to evade the acrid smell of chemicals concentrated around Hojo. By now she was used to acts of intimidation being as effective as throwing cups of water at a forest fire but she knew, at least this time, were to get under his oily skin.

"I have more authority than you do old man and you are supposed to be ridding the bacteria not breeding it, those were your orders and I have done half the work for you." She smirked seeing how the old goats face twisted like it was in physical pain, "I will not hesitate to repeat your remarks to Veld if you interfere with me."

A moment of delicious triumph and then he turned his back on her ruining it. If she wasn't already beyond the bounds of comfort being within meters proximity of the scientist she would have grabbed him by this filthy lab coat and demanded his attention. "You are taking up my valuable time, leave those reports and get out of my laboratory." She despised how he treated her with such insolence, who cared if he treated everyone the same way- only interested if the prospect of dissecting you or stewing you in a big tube at the end of the day was possible - she would not be treated in such a manner or regarded as a mere thing by anyone. Still she only held her head high and wrapped her thicker than usual shawl tighter around her. Despite her reputation for only owning provocative dresses she always managed to fully cover herself when visiting the labs.

She sneered at the back of his greasy head, thinking how she'd love to be pointing a gun at it with finger midway through pulling the trigger. "Laboratory? Is that what you call this upper floor dungeon? And as much as I would like to get out I still have more to discuss with you."

"I have no time for you."

Gritting her teeth, unmindful of the hideous expression it produced on her tenderly make-upped face, Scarlett took three calming breathes. Unfortunately the air was so clogged with particles of things best left unidentified it very nearly killed her. Meanwhile, Hojo had restarted whatever work she had interrupted, pouring a vial of something pink into a beak of something putrid. Her hand slapped up across her nose and mouth while she noted the little freak had donned a face mask without saying anything. Still she wasn't leaving until she'd come for what she wanted even if she had to speak through her hand which produced an undignified squashed nose, nasally quality in her voice. It was so demeaning.

"I know it's not just for those little bugs that you're taking your time on a direct request from the top. Veld's had Turks all over your research and you've recovered more than what you've been letting on. If it goes back up to the President you've been lying your precious labs would be inundated with Turks and all your research stopped. You'd be thrown out of the company – back to the sewer where you came from."

The attempt at an insult was ineffective as usual and as if to rile her temper even more he began to hum saying in a sing-songy way, "False Allegations, false threats, do not insult my intelligence."

Biting her tongue she forced herself to stare at what could have been an eye, but was now a yellowed orb floating in solution. She stared at it for a long time. This was how you dealt with Hojo or how she did. Snipe and threaten but through in provide enough suggestions and bits to plant seeds of interest then wait for them to take root.

Gradually he slowed down whatever he was doing to mull on something and she just had to time it right, pull him in as soon as she knew he thought round to what she'd really been saying. "I could let enough slip to let you get enough of what you want."

"I do not require your services I can get what I want any time I need." Hojo's nasty reedy voice, even after a short pause hearing it again sent another cold wave across the flesh and made you want to back far, far away. It was executive gossip that the scientist was a bit of a pervert and the thought of him touching anyone in that way brought vomit to her mouth. You'd have to be very sick or desperate for money to let him touch you, she thought. Again she steeled herself, laced her words with derision, taunting and suggestiveness and went for the kill.

"Without being underhand? I doubt it. Truth is even you can't get exactly what you want but I could get you second best and fresh, or have you fired."

Slowly, he turned back to face her, expression a mask of boredom but she could practically feel his annoyance that she was right, only she would get him what he was itching to have or at least get something to satisfy it."You will want to look at parts of my research in exchange."

Got it.

"Trade keeps business rolling, Kya ha ha ha."

xXx

The following day John sat beside Tabby in the canteen, with Jim taking up the side opposite them. They were a bald head away from normalcy but he was just enjoying not having Lyon looming around their friend today. He had not got round to asking Tabby where her partner was and he had no intention to, it gave him a headache listening to her gush about him. A couple of tables away he'd spotted his brother lunching with Jordo and Doug. Rude was not with them and looking around the big man was not with Freya or Manube either. It rang some bells in his head but again he kept them to himself otherwise the other two would go into a mothering frenzy. Their introvert pal could look after himself; it had taken weeks for him to just accept the three of them latching to him like limpets to a rock. When he actually responded to them near the end of their exams it had been considered a private triumph. Everyone knew he was a nice guy, did not begrudge anyone any help but the wall of silence had kept people away, especially after the incident with Rude's previous friend. But John supposed he felt obliged to hang around him after the help the bald man gave him in the fourth exam, same for Jim and Tabby and Tracker. He helped them and they hung around waiting for a chance to pay him back. So long story short Rude may just be off enjoying his own company somewhere.

Tabby accidentally brushed against his jacket reaching for the bowl of communal chips. The way the hairs on his arm prickled the material might as well have not been there. He glanced at Tabby but she did not seem aware, now holding a chip ready to pop into her mouth when she stopped laughing. Jim must have said something funny. Lately he'd been supersensitive to everything; it could have been a latent effect of almost being killed by Marko and his stress before the tournament. Oddly though, now it was over the whole event was locked into a hazy bubble in his mind, like he was determined to forget it ever happened. Oh well if all the weird gossip Jim reported was true he'd have worse memories to push down in the future.

"I've been having really weird dreams lately." Jim informed them and John wondered if they were continuing a topic or had started a new one.

Tabby nodded excitedly, they were both in very animated moods. "So have I. Like last night I dreamt there was a sand tsunami and then monsters came out and took over Midgar. It was so scary; Lyon said I woke up screaming."

"That's awful Tabs." John said trying to sound sympathetic but not pulling it off very well. Thankfully they did not comment on his belated arrival into the conversation.

"I woke up crying from mine," Jim said. You had to speculate if the older man was trying to one up Tabby but John did recall his partners looking slightly puffy this morning. Tabby looked ready to lend a hand of comfort until Jim continued, "because I was crying in my dream about a sandwich."

...

The younger rookies looked at each other than back at Jim.

"...Was it a really bad sandwich?" John asked forcing down the want to outright laugh at the anticlimax.

"No someone took it." Jim explained.

"That's just rude." Tabby said in mock shock but quickly bit her bottom lip to trap a snicker that almost escaped. It was so easy to tell when she wanted to laugh.

John went for a more theatrical route, slapping the table and declaring, "The sandwich stealing fiend." He knew Jim would like it.

"Yeah and there were other sandwiches there but they were for other days, I had to have this exact sandwich. Weird."

Rolling his eyes John supposed some dream interpreter in a remote village some place would have a meaningful answer but hey, they might as well have a go. It wasn't like there was much else to talk about. "Weird about being finicky about the sandwiches or that you were reduced to tears over a stolen one."

"I don't know. It all felt very important." Jim said rather seriously.

"...but why sandwiches?" John pressed.

"Maybe he fancied one before he went to bed." Tabby offered.

"I asked if he wanted one but he said no."

"Well in future John you should make him one just in case." She said sternly, but she was giggling on the inside obviously. He played along, sighing in a put upon manner.

"Suppose, can't risk anymore sandwich related nightmares now can we."

"Hmm maybe the sandwich thief was you!" She suddenly exclaimed as if she'd solved a great puzzle but he could do that to.

"Or maybe he wanted my sandwich and his subconscious turned me into the villain!" John pointed a dramatic finger at the ceiling; he had picked up a useful catalogue of theatrical gestures from Jim and actually quite enjoyed showing them off, if only to add to the teasing.

"How dastardly John. How could you?"

"I am remorseful." A hand appropriate clutched his breast and he bowed his head in mock shame by which point he must have crossed a line as Jim let out a very sarcastic, "Har-Har."

Looking up to see Jim's moody face his attention was instead drawn to the silent figure standing behind his partner.

"...Should I ask?" Rude said, taking a seat beside Jim as soon as Tabby offered while saying, "Oh hey Rude, we were just talking about dreams."

Their large friend nodded that that was reasonable and John noticed it seemed he'd just got out of the shower, he still smelt soapy and there was a slight sheen in his skin. "Jim had a traumatic one last night. Tell him about the sandwiches Jim."

"Tell him about the sandwiches Jim, jeez." Jim mimicked John's pushy tone to a 'T'.

Rude looked sufficiently confused now "...Sandwiches?"

"He woke up crying because in his dream someone stole his sandwich." John explained.

"...I see."

"And in mine Midgar was overrun with monsters." Tabby supplied.

Again Rude nodded but then turned his shades on John again waiting for his contribution. With his custom serious face and those impenetrable shades their pal was really an intimating sight. Before you were drawn in by the soft brown of his irises, now you started noticing his large shoulders that supported the powerful muscles that could dent metal walls a bit more. It took him a moment to recall the last dream he had and unfortunately it was rather boring.

"I can't remember much of mine; I think the guy that sells jewellery in the slums was in it though. I think it looked like him but he wasn't selling jewellery and he was telling me I had to be somewhere but I kept waiting for ...someone to show up but they never did."

"That it?" Jim sounded very disappointed in him.

"All I can remember."

"How about you Rude?" Tabby asked, like a teacher trying to get the shy child to join in.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Nothing at all." Jim was getting even more disappointed but to be fair it would take them a while to top his sandwich trauma.

"I suppose filing doesn't spark the imagination." John said picking up his near empty glass and draining the remainders of his orange juice.

"Aye but the redhead kid turned up, didn't he?" Jim said, elbowing Rude. This warranted a shared despairing look between John and Tabby, they hoped he wasn't going to keep bring up that dead horse otherwise they would not blame Rude if he threw Jim down the rubbish shoot.

"Yes."

"And?"

"Helped."

"Oh, not as interesting as I hoped." Resume disappointed Jim, goodbye desperate ...whatever Jim was being.

"Things often aren't."

"Well it's been said I'm a man of high hopes."

"And sandwiches." John couldn't resist the little dig and relished the look Jim shot him.

"You two are not going to let that go are ya?"

"Well for the rest of the day, probably not." John replied cheerfully, swinging his empty glass to and fro in his hand as if he was holding a tankard.

Tabby took a more diplomatic and chiding tone, "Serves you right for telling us, though."

"Hmm." Jim was not impressed.

That seemed to exhaust that avenue of chit chat then. Tabby took some more chips and Jim proceeded to munch on the pastry of his pie- he insisted on leaving it all to last. Rude had brought what looked like a jug of water to the table and a plate full of green vegetables piled on top of unidentifiable fish meat. He also had two pieces of bread and considering the conversation before it gave John a strange urge.

"You know I really want a sandwich now." He said aloud.

"But you've just eaten."

"Not to eat, just to you know hold." He explained.

"You want to hold a sandwich?" Jim had some cheek using that tone on him; it was exactly the same ton John had used on him before.

"When you say it like that, it sounds odd."

"And just holding a sandwich just for the sake of holding it isn't a little odd?"

"Are all your conversations as deep as this?"

For a second time their eyes were drawn to a figure hovering near their table. The weird little redheaded Turk beamed at them and- as surprised as they were -they all smiled back, Rude's did not look like a smile but if you knew him long enough he was definitely smiling. Tabby looked particularly pleased but John couldn't help glance around them noticing Marko looking at their table with unhidden annoyance and was it him or were quite a few people suddenly finishing at the same time? Still he quickly looked at their new guest and still in a jovial mood said, "Stick around and they can go to very deep and dark places indeed."

"Some might say to where the sun doesn't shine." Jim contributed and earned a shin kick under the table.

"JIM!" Tabby scolded looking mortified, "That came across as insinuating."

"I meant like a cave." The oldest man present tried but they doubted him.

"Sure you did."

"Oookay." The kid was still standing up and it looked like he may consider moving on. Maybe Tabby noticed this as she swiftly asked if he would like to join them.

"Is it safe?"

"No." Rude promptly replied.

"Then budge up big guy." The redhead grinned again and plopped himself down onto the very edge of their friend's seat, impressive considering Rude probably took up all the space. Somehow they managed to balance themselves. Another glance around confirmed their table was now definitely getting curious looks.

"We were talking about dreams." Tabby said and John wondered if she was purposely ignoring the attention they were getting or had not noticed, Rude and Jim had. Well not much they could do about it, so he tired to ignore it too. "Then sandwiches."

"And you want to hold a sandwich. Want to hold mine?" The kid offered his plate on which was a very nice sandwich John thought, a long one made with fluffy, seasoned bread that wafted 'freshly baked' scents across the table. John's mouth salivated but he swallowed it down.

"It's okay; I want to hold my own."

The bandaged face nodded, "There is something about holding a sandwich." The long thin fingers squeezed down on the bread and it bounced back under the touch, then he weighed it in his hands.

John watched him and mentally built his own sandwich to imagine holding. He built various ones, as if going through all the sandwiches of his life and was now full appreciating them. "Hmm, yeah there is actually. You can have your own style and depending on the shape and thickness it can feel different."

"Are we actually having this conversation?" Jim butted in.

John smirked, "You're one to talk sandwich dreamer."

"Sandwich Dreamer?" The kid asked.

So Tabby told the story all over again.

xXx

"Mako pits?"

He'd only started this job three weeks ago and did not feel comfortable under the scrutinising gaze of Shino. He'd wanted to work with the Turk ever since he'd read the man's publish works, of course they were under a different name, and had taken great pains to get a job connected to the Turk department. However his anxiety to please had landed him in a bad situation.

"Yes."

"What about them?" Black shades were pushed up by a single long finger, flashing in the plasma white light. The junior data gathering technician watched the movement with apt attention, resisting the desire to copy it with his own glasses.

"We believe a number of strange isolated incidents across areas below the plate could be due to prolonged Mako leaks, Sir."

The Turk nodded but most of his face was still covered by the high neck collar of the shirt he opted to wear under the standard Turk jacket, it made it very difficult to determine his mood until he spoke. "Cases of Mako poisoning aren't that rare, unfortunately."

"It's not just poisoning. There are reports of cellars filled with bodies, usually families or the homeless." The technician informed him but the news didn't seem to faze the Turk, but then it was the Turk department's job to deal with that kind of thing. As for himself he was aware of the unpleasant trickle of sweat running from his forehead to his ear and probably dripping into his thick vest, the heat generated from the monitors was to blame. The air conditioning was down again, the new systems were not harmonising easily despite what was promised and anywhere else you would be a slight discomfort in this room it was like being in a strobe lit sauna, the fluids from their bodies misting off them.

"With the bad air down there it's not surprising they'd be too weak to fight off the effects."

"Yes but of those that are surviving some are going insane, becoming psychotic even." He stressed, admittedly desperate to give something sensational enough to get a good reaction from the man he admired so much.

"And the other's survivors?" Shino asked, voice unaltered by any sort of emotion.

"Moved to other areas, but almost all have serious health problems."

"Almost? Some walk away fine?" It was like being back at school and he'd used poor grammar but the technician nodded energetically sensing this could be his moment to shine while pushing down his excitement as best he could, "Ah actually that's the interesting thing, the rest get away more than fine, almost as if they'd had weak doses of what Hojo makes for the SOLDIER program."

"How long has this been going on for?"

"Years." He said. The eagerness in his voice disappeared as the next part he was not sure he was allowed to repeat as it was not official information but more gathered hearsay in the building but he'd try anything to keep the man's attention, "In fact you know that redhead in our department."

"Go on." Shino replied and the technician dared to believe there was an interested inflexion.

"Well his records are-"

"Incomplete."

The sharpness caused the junior worker to physically flinch but he persisted, "Yes but the accounts strongly suggest he may have been under continuous exposure to mako throughout his childhood."

" That's not uncommon, be more specific."

"Well according to Cissnei they went to the same orphanage. It was located in the area beneath sector zero, close to the Mako reactor. Reeve recently ordered the evacuation and demolition of most of this area, specifically a mile radius around the reactor as there were too many leaks. Where the orphanage was located was one such leak and according to Cissnei although the children were not allowed in the basement the redhead frequently disobeyed this command. Furthermore if reports are true and he ran away from the orphanage, lived on the streets and taken in by the gang our inconclusive evidence suggests at the age they report than between the time he entered the orphanage and came to the company he developed under mako conditions that cause acute poisoning. The orphanage closed down not long ago when too many children and the staff were dying, the gangs in this area were also suffering from the effects and data suggests over half the population have or will die after five years in the area, the half that may live probably did not spend a long time in that part of the sector." He gulped while the Turk took a long time before answering.

"So you suggest he's due to pop off in a year or two?"

"No sir just the opposite." He said quickly, searching in the file he brought with him with the police accounts, "Did you know Veld had suspicions about Hojo requesting the redhead for guard duty all the time?"

"That was hardly a secret."

"Yeah," He nodded finding his file devoid of any evidence to support what he'd been saying. He was unaware Shino had already removed those parts while he'd been talking earlier since the technician was so obviously enthralled by the reflection of the monitors in Shino's steamed up glasses. "It seems professor Hojo was aware of the redhead's background and more specifically we think he knew about the leaks and wanted the redhead in order to gather evidence for a theory linked to his SOLDIER projects." He paused; waiting for a reaction but Shino was stoic.

"Don't stop. What theory?"

"That certain individuals, like the ancients, have stronger links to the planet than others. The strength varies and he is still working on what could cause this but the bottom line is these people are more resistant to Mako effects and can even benefit from them. If he's correct it'll improve our scouting for potential SOLIDERS and his Mako treatments." He informed, thinking this was obviously good news for the Turk but still he could not tell even when the man spoke if he was bothered or pleased by the news.

"I didn't think the Turks were for encouraging his immoral projects however much we are ordered to supply to them."

"There is talk treatments could be given to the Turks. Although it hasn't been documented, I've heard talk Hojo maybe slipping some into the 'medication' for the redhead's bacterium infections." Again he resorted to rumours, but in ShinRa you quickly learnt even the most farfetched tale could actually be true, especially if it involved Hojo. If it was lies you'd never find out any way. Well perhaps the Turks did, still Shino was indifferent.

"The amount of Mako products the kid's been on I doubt it'll make much of a difference. If all that hasn't killed him I fear he's indestructible, well unless he bursts."

"Funny you should say that, the reactions between treatments and the invading species are primarily what doctors think are preventing his wounds – which should have healed by now under normal procedure- from closing up. Their necessary vents to let to excess to come out. So much damage has been done they think stasis would be the best option for a full recovery." It felt safer to be back reading off reports, the technician thought, although it was difficult to tell what the Turk was thinking, when you put 'I've heard talk' and such phrases undermined the reliability of what you're saying anyway.

"Yes, yes. Get back to the point. Hojo thinks the kid's got a strong link to the planet or something and that's supposedly helpful." Shino said, showing briefly his impatience and snapping the technician back into 'nervous to inform' mode.

"It would explain a high affinity for electricity or lightening Materia. A display of aptitude to a specific element could be one indicator but professor Hojo proposes with more research there could be other signs to look for."

"The last think we need is more people climbing up the walls. Well this is very interesting but where is it leading to?"

"There has been a request for us to round up survivors from sector zero and investigate the sites of reported leaks, repaired and current. The police are already passing over many locations and Reeve is dispatching repair crews as we speak. Professor Hojo wants-"

"More lab rats." The Turk let out an impressive sigh while the technician gazed at him with even more awe for reasons best known to himself. "Very well, I will also make teams to handle the psychos. They may be linked to the random murders being reported, as if we don't have enough on our plates."

"There is talk it could be over soon." The technician tried thinking about the Wutain war but the Turk only walked away from him without looking back, stolen papers clutched in his hand.

"There is always talk."

xXx

Blackwell felt along the warped wood of the door. Dust and cobwebs clung to his fingertips. Next he examined the padlock and chain, even from a distance you could tell it was only a year old and had barely started to rust. Someone thought it necessary to keep this locked and that someone was very good at not disturbing their surroundings. Since they had not taken the time to try and make the lock looked more aged he estimated they were just above average intelligence. Closer inspection of the metal suggested it had been used recently, maybe in the last month or week, and it had been locked and unlocked frequently. It was small, not particularly a heavy duty make and wouldn't require much force to break.

Next he looked at the chain; this was made of a matted metal alloy, the outer layer was certainly oxidised which partly accounted for the lack of rust, but it was mostly due to the chain being new. The links were thick and big, impossible to break or cut without a lot of power and even then it would take a couple of hacks at it. Interestingly someone had gone to the trouble of wrapping the chain around the old crusted door handles ten, maybe twelve time. It would not have been easy and definitely a waste of energy to undo if they intended on coming back.

Finally back at the door. The dust and cobwebs were not that old. With so much building and demolition in this sector and the surroundings one and above, the tiny particles of grit, rock and metal quickly coated everything; this also made the cobwebs look older. He kicked a carcass of the spinner who probably made the web he'd destroyed. It was nearly the size of his boot and a good sized cloud of filthy powder came off of it. Still soft it was only a couple of days old.

It was doubtful anyone was coming to check on this place anytime soon. That eliminated an outside human threat, so there was just the possibility of inside ones, he hoped. He crouched properly before the lock and took out a thin, metal pin. Just before he started unpicking it though he paused. The air smelt wrong. Damp wood, steep, rust and sand from the wastes were as he expected but there was something else, ammonium definitely and something sweeter. Leaning towards a crack in the wood he smelt through the moss the unforgettable odor of rancid Mako and a hint of fresh, tingling new Mako. There was a leak in this building and bad one at that. Before he pulled away a bit of wind whistled through the crack, bringing out weaker smells. Unwashed bodies, urea, blood. It stopped and they were masked again.

He turned back towards the street. Wary of putting his back to the door but no longer certain of being alone. Slowly he stood up, stepped back and down the steps and kept going until the dirty air blurred the features of the doors. Now he had space to fight.

He waited and they eventually came, appearing like a dark smear through the slum pollution. As the smear became a man he knew they could see him. After a moment Blackwell relaxed, thinking to himself that you could know a person too well if you could identify them by their hazy silhouette.

He gave the old signal and Virgil sped up, meeting him at the tangled remains of the house's small, wrought iron gates. "I thought I had this site alone," Blackwell said by ways of greeting.

Virgil ran a hand through his steel grey hair, produced an old, grey Stetson from within the long, shabby coat he chose to wear over his normal Turk suit and put it on. "I am as surprised as you. Intel told me to come here, they said nothing about you."

"That's becoming a bit too common for my liking."

"And mine too, but you can't be too careful when dealing with this level mission," Virgil said, casually strolling up the path one hand in his coat pocket the other on his gun examining everything Blackwell had. The place was overgrown and derelict. The demolition crew had done a shoddy job, it was barely recognisable as a building but still inhabitable for the desperate and there were plenty of those around. They'd done the work right everywhere else nearby and both men wondered, why not here? As Virgil walked up the steps Blackwell beside him, he muttered, "No doubt when Hojo finally masters his super race project they will do this work."

"When that happens I am retiring." Blackwell bent down and resumed picking the lock. Virgil just chortled and kept a look out.

It took less than thirty seconds for the lock to click open; Blackwell held it steady to reduce the sound. If anything was on the other side of the door they did not want to alert it. He counted to ten in his head, poised on the balls of his feet to spring back if anything suddenly tried to burst through the doors. Nothing happened but he smelt the blood again. He looked at Virgil who nodded and started to slowly unravel the chain from around the handles. Blackwell helped, lifting and guiding it so the links did not clank together, spreading it and snaking it over the porch and down the stairs. The level of care he was taking caused Virgil to hesitate opening the doors. Hands on the rusted metal he braced himself, also feeling that there was something wrong with this place.

Sucking in and pushing out the polluted air he tried to ease the door open but the wood had swelled in the damp and the cold had frozen it into place. He had to tug, the doors scrapped against each other and screeched across the cracked cement. He paused and looked at Blackwell who was tense like a cat caught by surprise. The air that escaped from the crack was chilled and rotten, the remaining structure channelling the slightest breeze into mourning winds but nothing else stirred. He tugged several more times, opening it enough to provide a swift exit.

Stepping inside there was plenty of light, from the door they entered, broken windows, holes in the upper floor and walls. There was no roof and everything beyond the staircase had fallen through creating a back wall of rumble and rubbish. On surface level they only had to search the front living room and what could have been a dining room. Blackwell searched there; Virgil looked in the living room. There was table set out neatly for six, a fireplace, wooden showcase cabinet and bookcase. The floor was wooden but a big, old fashioned, floral patterned rug covered most of the floor. The decoration was to the taste of an elderly woman, flowers, doilies, baby animals painted on the foreign produced teacups and saucers laid out before each seat. Aside from the thick layer of sandy coloured dust and lumps of cement that had fallen through and knocked over some things, like a vase and umbrella stand, it was untouched and eerily still. He expected the old woman to be standing at the door when he turned round, demanding what he was doing in her house.

He felt Virgil enter instead and he did not have to say anything for Blackwell to know the other room was in the same state. He said, "There are no rats."

Virgil nodded. Normally they would have taken over a place like this if only for nesting and hunted in the surrounding area. Not a squeak or scrabble had been heard and that was a bad sign. "The basement, according to Reeve's plans these buildings all had them. The entrance is under the stairs. It's locked another padlock, big and heavy. Also the original door has been replaced by a heavy steel one."

Blackwell nodded, feeling the danger of the room they were in ease but apprehensive of what could be locked behind the steel doors . When he was younger he would have first thought such a formidable lock was meant to deter other thieves from another crooks stash, designed with keeping people out in mind. Experience taught him you were more likely to find the plan was to keep something in, kidnapped scientists for drug production or young girls for prostitution, improvised torture chambers, mass graves or just someone's ghosts they'd wanted to keep buried. They would discover what secrets this place was holding, they always did.

However as he reached for his pins Virgil placed a gloved hand on his arm, hard and firm demanding attention. "I think we should call for re-enforcements before we go further." Blackwell did not say anything, Virgil's presence was already one person too many for his preference. "Something is not right here."

"You can stay, I'll look."

"No, I want to go with you."

"Stay, someone needs to see if anyone is coming."

"You cannot go down alone. You shouldn't go down at all."

"And waste the time coming here? I will just have a look."

The more he looked at the lock and the scratched, yellowing metal the more intrigued he became. The building felt like it was waiting, the atmosphere whispered with expectation and it all centred on what was behind the door. The air leaking from under it was even colder than the temperature they stood in now. The basement went deep; there could be tunnels down there, stores of stolen equipment. Virgil could be more worried of what may follow them down, every time he glimpsed a curtain move his eyes darted madly reassessing the danger, looking for a menacing face to be staring at them through the window or standing in the doorway. Maybe there was danger in front as well as behind but they could cope, and he did not want to wait for re-enforcements. Or more accurately be encumbered by trooper green horns swamping the place, shooting without aim and blowing things up for haste's sake. Virgil was still giving him his stern look but Blackwell was not bending, "Just a look," he assured, "then I'll come straight back out and contact HQ but someone needs to keep a look out."

"Fine."

Blackwell got to work on the lock, it took less time than the one at the front door and the door swung open much easier as well. The smell hit them first, choking and vile, forcing them back just to get over the shock.

Bodies, there were defiantly bodies down there in the darkness. Mud, human waste and blood, the scent of the latter so rich it conjured images of a floor bathed in sticky red. He took out his flashlight and descended. Ten steps down his light hit a pale, naked figure that appeared to have flung itself onto the landing at the bottom of this set of stairs, half its body concealed round a corner. The stairs must go further down. It was too starved to distinguish the gender and so covered in blood he thought it was a corpse. He did not move but it did.

It's breathe was raspy, barely audible over the softly howling wind rising up from below, but it was getting stronger. As if the light of the torch was giving it energy. Lucky for him he saw it before its eyes adjusted to the light to see him. Tangled mass, of wiry white hair, matted by slick, glistening blood that smeared all over its face, especially round the mouth were pointed teeth peaked through the shrivelled lips. The tongue flickered out to lick at the blood as small, black eyes gradually made him out. A wicked smile bared more horrible pointed teeth, like a fishes and misshaped hands with long, overgrown nails reach out for the next step. It was looking straight at him.

"Help us...Help us," It pulled itself forward, getting almost to all fours. Something, maybe a woman let out an ear piercing scream beyond and Blackwell felt Virgil race to the top of the stairs but saw the excitement in the thing crawling up. "Help, Help us. Help us." It called and whined, dragging itself towards them.

"Holy infrit."

Blackwell couldn't say anything but hearing Virgil's voice broke him from the trance of the little black pits that were getting closer and closer.

"...Help, Help..."

More voices called up from the black and the wicked blood covered smile got bigger.

"Run," He said, taking two steps back as fast as he could.

The face below twisted into something hideous, it let out an animal snarl and the maddening screams erupted like an explosion. It got up, done with playing weak and streaked up the stairs, "Help us, Help us, HELP US!"

Blackwell shoved Virgil away and slammed the door, crushing a wrist. The clawed hand hung rattling by sinews of torn skin and tendons as its owner battled to get out but they had already clicked the padlock into place. The steel muffled some of the inhuman cries and the tearing, crunching, slipping noises but not the thump of the dead hand hitting the wood floor or the nails shooting out from under the door and scratching at their boots, pulling that their laces.

"HelpHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHelphelp...help...Help, Help, helphelphelpHELPHELP"

Breathing hard Blackwell looked at Virgil, Virgil was looking at the front door, and a group of men and a woman was looking at them. Like that had not been enough excitement for one day.

There were six of them.

Two of the men carried old model ShinRa stun guns; at full power they could knock a man out for several hours. The other three had hunks of wood, or piping to club with, the woman had a dagger.

"You're not leaving," The man standing a little ahead of the others said. He could have been their leader but the way he spoke was unhealthy and eyeing the rest they must all have the same sickness. Blackwell wanted them to open their mouths; he wondered if he'd see fish teeth. Virgil did not care for that.

"Not even hell outside could keep me here."

The group had only time to smile like the insane before the Turk turned his gun on them, killing three in an instant. The woman darted into the living room while Virgil took out the speaker and the other man who'd ran at them, plank of wood held uselessly high.

They did not bother chasing her; Blackwell watched to see if she'd pounce on them as they dashed through the exploded brains and twitching corpses of her fellows to the door. She didn't, but she stared after them as they jumped over the gate's remains and stopped at a heap of cement and brick across what was once a road.

"I'm phoning HQ," Virgil said, PHS to his ear, thumb on speed dial. He turned his back on the screaming building but Blackwell couldn't look away. The woman could still run out at any moment, could unlock the door and let that thing out and -from the noises - what else was down there.

A terrible scream erupted from within the house, higher pitched than the rest, terrified and closer, but it was abruptly cut off. Blackwell stepped in front of Virgil as the man gave their co-ordinates but Blackwell knew it was already too late for that.

He reached for the Materia, top class, already hot to the touch and he held it tight, letting the orb suck up his tense energy until it glowed. He pulled it out as something emerged from the house, running or lumbering down the path.

"I summon Infrit."

And the world exploded in flames.

xXx

"Oi! Why're watching that rubbish, yah know ShinRa doesn't broadcast actual news, right?"

Rude and Marko jumped in the seats and the front door slammed shut. Reno wasted no time striding over and gracefully perching himself on the back of Rude's chair, socked feet landing on the rookies shoulders.

"Hey, why are you...I mean how'd you get in? Get out." Marko barked, he was still sat down but looking frazzled. They had another long day of investigating a minor dispute between workers in public relations, one accusing another of sabotage since they were both in line for a promotion. From looking through surveillance, taking prints and interrogation they had done the whole nine yards. Rude was quite happy for Marko to take the lead on this but it meant his day had been very boring. He'd given up trying to make suggestions; Marko preferred doing everything by himself since it was much easier to take all the credit at the end of it. It did mean they finished much later than they could have done since Rude realised earlier the Saboteur was more likely to be another co-worker, one that would also benefit if the man they had been investigating got the promotion. Marko eventually came to that conclusion and long story short it was all solved in the end and the criminal was reprimanded.

"I came to see the great bald one here," Reno told Marko, tapping Rude's head as if anyone needed confirmation of who he was talking about. "and it wasn't locked, I say that's an open invitation."

On the sofa Marko started to tremble and go pink from suppressing his urge to scream. Rude did not quite understand why his partner had such a dislike for Reno. He appreciated Marko's anger with himself, it must be raw being stuck with one of the few men that beat you in a public arena as a partner and on top of that aided the brother he was determined to put down. All the redhead did was pop up when you least expected him and disregard rules, unless during the wakeup call event he'd done something despicable to Marko or maybe it was because they owed Reno their lives. He would probably never get to the bottom of it; he'd probably never exchange a civil word with his partner.

"Well it isn't...and they automatically lock."

"So they do, I was just testin' ya. Congratulations ya pass." Reno said cheerily, "Now if you don't mind Imma going to have a private word with your partner, that okay Mr Stuck up?"

"Oi, watch your mouth slum rat." Marko snarled and Rude felt like punching him feeling offended on behalf of the Kid but Reno did not seem to mind.

"I would if I had a mirror."

"Urgh," The rookie superstar stood up, done with the intruder. "If I come back and this place is a mess Rude I will make your life hell."

"Like ya don't already, where ya goin'?" Reno said, as they watched Marko grab his Jacket he'd hung by the door.

"None of your business." He said, opening the door and slamming it when he left. The lock clicked and then there was just the voice of the anchor informing them of a high profile marriage that had taken place that day.

"Well that's an improvement." Reno said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on Rude's head. When the rookie looked up he nearly got an elbow in each eye.

"What is?"

"He called ya by your name." The kid elaborated looking down at Rude with a big grin, his single eye swirling bright blue and green because of the television.

"Hmm, so what are you doing here?"

"Two things," A peace sign was brandished before Rude's shades. "One I'm hiding from everyone."

That did not sound good, "Why?"

"I don't want to go into the labs."

"Is it for your health?"

"They have an infirmary for that stupid," Rude just stared at Reno not impressed and the kid backtracked, "...and sometimes the labs but it's not like that today, alright."

He sighed, turning back to the telly and wondering if he was going to get into trouble, "Fine you can stay here and what else?"

"I have real news! I have to tell you." Reno stamped his feet on Rude's shoulders – it felt quite nice actually - but he sighed again, deeper so it seemed he was just putting up with the redhead's antics not enjoying them.

"Go on."

"Did you see the broadcast on the fires in sector zero?"

"Yes. You're going to tell me it wasn't terrorist arson attacks?"

"Jackpot, as shiny as your crown big fella." Reno cheered drumming said crown until Rude grabbed him by the elbows and flipped him over. The Turk avoided get his joints twisted by springing from the rookies' shoulders and flipping in a fluid movement while Rude guided him to land safety in his lap, but his elbows were still in the larger man's sure grip and Rude held on a little longer than necessary as a silent warning to the younger man. It did nothing in regards to the redhead's giddy mood and he excitedly carried on chattering. "Our department is responsible, and you'll never guess who it was."

"Some of the rookies?" Rude guessed wondering why the kid was telling it like it was good news, surely that meant the Turks would be in trouble with the head of city planning.

"Oh, not even a cherry." Sighed Reno continuing his casino references, "Virgil and Blackwell in fact, the ones I mentioned the other night. This is big news pal, they majorly screwed up."

"And you're happy?"

"Oh yeah, their record makes them practically beyond reproach but Hojo was having a right tantrum. I don't know why but it was funny watching the old crab dance before I made a run for it." Reno explained.

"You were in the labs?"

"Nah, he cornered me in the corridor but then he heard the TV in one of the lounges, he started yelling some stuff and stomped about. He probably really wanted whatever they'd been sent to find." The kid shrugged examining his nails as a big grin spread across his face while he mental recalled the event.

"Probably."

"And that's the news, our two oldest and boldest Turks let loose Infrit in the slums and are getting a psychiatrist examination, must have been pretty bad." Concluded Reno as he swung his legs to the floor and relaxing into Rude's chest.

"It's a bad time."

Reno did not find the position that comfortable so swung his legs back over Rude's left arm and elongated himself as much as possible. "Yeah and so long as ShinRa is in power it'll only get worse."

"What?" That sounded rather anti-ShinRa to Rude.

"Ya don't believe the propaganda do ya?"

Rude was beginning to become wary of this conversation and how the kid seemed to enjoy the fact that he thought he could be a dissident, which considering it was Reno could mean anything. Rude hoped it was just the redhead liking to put people in uncomfortable positions, such as invading their personal space. He seemed like someone who'd say anything just to pull pigtails if he could get away with it. Now onto the question, he did not want to say yes because he did not want to be seen as gullible but then he didn't want to sound like he did not trust the company in case it was some Turk test to check the rookies were loyal.

Suddenly it felt like he was walking on thin ice.

After several minutes with the single piecing gaze never once leaving his face he said, "Not really, I just..." He just what? Thought the company had the citizen's best interests at heart? That sounded naive even to him especially now he'd spend a couple of days as a proper employee, that and he had lived in the slums.

Lucky Reno spoke before Rude could think anymore, "Heh, don't worry I think rebels and whatever fighters are all a load of nonsense too, same with do-gooders they're just fancy words."

Well that was a relief Rude supposed but rather depressing too. "Do you believe in anything?"

Reno shrugged.

"Hmm," Rude frowned, so deep lines appeared in his forehead. The redhead watched them appear with fascination, the rookie hoped he was not going to come out with some flippant remark about being old.

"Don't tell me ya thinking the 'to be so young and so cynical' line, Veld's already given me that." He said instead, surprising Rude on two accounts.

"You've told Veld?"

"Sure. He asked."

Again the rookie was awed by how...well easy and casual Reno made everything sound. Their chief commander had an aura of intimidating authority, like a strict father which made you keen to please but equally wary of upsetting. Reno, if he could say that to the commander, was immune to it or just did not care. In a way it sort of made a joke of the man's power if Reno could get away with so much and Veld was greatly respected as far as Rude by everyone under his command. He was starting to get an even clearer picture of why the redhead may not be so well liked. Mostly though he was impressed by the cynicism, maybe that's why Veld let him get away with it. Sometimes something is just too much that it's better to leave it.

"Wouldn't it be nice to believe in something?" Rude tried.

"Nice if there was something to believe in." Reno countered like he'd said it a million times before, possibly even to their commander.

"The Gods?"

"Not much faith required, Infrit made a convincing job of toasten sector zero." The kid smirked and Rude gave up.

"Well what do you want?"

He had not intended it to come out quite as annoyed as it did, really what did he care if Reno had faith or not, there were plenty delusional people on Gaia. After all he only had his master's teachings. It was not so much a faith but it kept him believing. Reno rolled off him, dropping onto the floor and crawled onto the sofa and stretched out. Rude hoped he had not upset him, he seemed put out. It was a while before he spoke, "Do you watch human's Rude?"

"Yes."

"Like what ya see?"

"Mostly, yes."

Reno bit his lip then said, "I don't."

Rude waited for him to say more but that's all he had to say, it made him sad. "Well at least you're honest."

"Am I?"

"Are you?"

"I asked you first."

"How would I know?"

Reno smiled, "Maybe you'll find out."

"Maybe I will."

"That guy really doesn't like us, eh." Reno said, abruptly changing topic.

"Who? Marko?"

"No the Wutain Emperor, of course Marko." Reno made a noise under his breath, it sounded suspiciously like 'jeez' but he was still smiling so the rookie supposed he meant it all good naturedly. "What did ya do?"

"I don't know. Spilt coffee on his trousers-"

"He didn't like ya before all that." The Turk cut him off although it sounded like he approved of Rude ruining his partner's clothes.

"Helped John in the exams."

"Ah," A sage nod accompanied this and the Turk laced his fingers across his chest, "so he's that kind of a guy."

"What kind?"

"If you do him a favour he'll never forgive ya." Reno explained, as if that made any more sense. Actually he could sort of see what he meant, Marko would much rather have an excuse to complain about him than thank him. Still he thought it was something else.

"...I don't think that's it. They just seem to have a serious rivalry- no more like dislike for each other."

"Hmmm, I wonder why that is."

Rude shrugged, "It is between them."

"Pfft, that's not the attitude of a Turk." Reno scolded mildly but Rude was learning the Turk liked it if you pushed back a little.

"And riffling through other people's business is."

"Exact-o, we leave no stone unturned and no corner overlooked, because we are the Turks." He said grandly and Rude was reminded of Jim, "Without us the wrinkles of corruption would be much deeper in this prune of a city."

Rude chuckled, "Is pessimism a job requirement as well?"

"Hehe, you learn it." The redhead stretched his head back, the bandages on his neck slipped revealing some yellowed bruising; Rude had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from asking. The kid was happy and good company, he did not want to mess that up. Not that he was walking on egg shells but he was learning when not to push, perhaps if this...acquaintance kept up he wouldn't have to be so careful. Seemed typical though that the resident oddball would pick him to keep pestering when Rude was unequipped with the people skills to know how to deal with him. John, Jim and Tabby, and even Youji had all been different. It was subtle but they all or had been aware that he was more socially awkward so compensated. He had got used to that but he actually preferred the kid's way of treating him, it was just like how he seemed to treat everyone else. Also he couldn't seem to clam up around the redhead, even if the kid managed to talk for two people. While Rude had been looking at him Reno had been watching the television, "So ya going to change channel or what?"

Rude shrugged, "I'm not interested in fictional programs."

One of Reno's eyebrows arched high while the other furrowed so the bandaged eye was probably wrinkled up and the rest of his face completed the expression associated with exaggerated disbelief or 'are-you-kidding-me', "Erm you know what I said before implied the news is fictional too right?"

"I got that." He made no effort to change the channel although he did notice the remote had found its way to his arm rest when before we was certain it had been on the coffee table.

"...Chocobo tales is on three around this time." Reno suggested casually looking about the room and fiddling with the corner of a pillow.

Half way through the action of automatically pressing the three button Rude's brain fully processed what it had just heard. His finger stopped just above the button. Quelling his amusement he tried to sound admonishing, "That's a child's program. How old are you?" Unfortunately a little bit of humour got through and Reno pounced on the weakness with a confident 'so-what-if-I-like-it' attitude.

"Old enough to enjoy it."

"If you really want." Rude shook his head and pressed the button. He watched the redhead change from fake sulky to juvenile joy when the vibrant colours lit up the living room and the looped tune that would stick in his head for weeks came out of the speakers.

"You are the best man." Reno cheered eyes on the screen, the chocobo was checking behind a tree for something and then a fluffy woodland creature popped out. Rude was almost drawn into their pointless dialogue when Reno asked, "Got anything in yet?"

"What?"

"Food, what ya got?" The kid repeated.

Rude thought for a moment, "Bread and cereal...wait just cereal."

"And no milk," Reno eyed him like he was from another planet, "nice."

"Most people are lactose intolerant." Rude pointed out as the Chocobo and its new woodland friend went down a path towards a darker bit of forest.

"But you have cereal."

"I don't understand why it's there either." Again Rude shrugged, it'd almost been comparatively relaxing and peaceful with just Marko in the room. Not speaking did not require much thinking after all, he wasn't quite in the mood to explain the reasons for their provided food stocks.

"Get rid of it if you're not going to eat it, you rookies are so lazy."

"Then there will be no food."

"Shops are still open, we can go get some." Reno suggested, looking at the clock on the wall. Rude thought the kid ought to have a watch of his own.

"But I thought you wanted to watch this?"

"It's a repeat and mind if I take the cereal."

Rude shrugged no one was eating it, "No, knock yourself out."

With a cheer the redhead zipped off from his seat and into the kitchen faster than you should run around an apartment, (there being furniture and not that much room in-between things naturally made it difficult to pick up speed). A couple of cupboards banged before an pleased exclaimation announced the cereal had been located, "Great, it's got berries in and when my Tonberry hatches I need to stock my supplies. This is a good start."

Had Rude heard correctly? He did not think so but instead of letting it slide which probably would have been sensible he checked anyway, "A Tonberry? You have a Tonberry, where?" His tone implied he hoped Reno had got the word Tonberry mixed up and he had meant to say something else.

Alas when he looked round the red mop was nodding as Reno continued to examine the cereal box, "In my apartment- but you are the only one I've told so keep it secret."

He gaped at the back of Reno's head for a good while. Surely he was pulling his leg, yet the tell tale signs of a trickster stringing you along weren't showing. There was no looking over the shoulder to give a sly smirk upon witnessing Rude's expression, no shaking of the shoulders trying to hold back laughter , no...Rude forgot what the other signs were but the point was Reno had nothing but sincerity and a disturbing lack of concern about him that meant he was not joking. "It'll murder you in your sleep." Rude said.

"It's an experiment," sighed Reno in the manner of someone who has had to explain it a hundred times, "are they born with the creepy instinct to stab things or do they learn it?" He turned and with a dreamy look added, " Wouldn't it be cool if it imprinted on me."

"No."

Reno's fall expression dropped and he puffed out his cheeks, "You have no imagination." He came behind Rude's chair and out of nowhere whacked the poor rookie on the head with the cereal, "you're ignorance is stifling." He hit him with the flat side so it did not actually hurt but Rude hoped this would not become their dynamic. He wondered how they ended up with a 'their' anything.

Trying to be sensible he chided, "Your recklessness is beyond belief. Where did it come from?"

"I can't tell you."

Anyone else may have scowled at this point; Rude almost did, but quickly opted for the patient approach, "Why?"

"Because I have said too much already."

"You won't be able to keep it." He pressed and for good measure looked over his shades at the Turk. It was an impressive skill to look down on someone who was standing over you, Rude wasn't quite managing it but there was no smart mouth or dodging comeback at least. "Reno, I strongly advise you put it back wherever you got it from."

No looking at him Reno replied,"I can't."

"Oh Holy, why not?"

Reno bit his lip, "I can't tell you."

This did not sound good at all. Well a Tonberry was involved so it wouldn't but it was getting worse. Being sensible he gave the most logical solution, "Destroy it then."

"No." The Turk screeched in horror reaching an impressive pitch if Rude may say so and it was funny to see the cereal be thrown into the air, then caught and held close as if it were the creature Rude suggested be destroyed. Jim would have been impressed with the kid's melodramatics most certainly.

"It's you or the Tonberry Reno." He said more firmly.

"If Rufus can have a killer pet so can I."

"He can do whatever he likes, you can't and he doesn't have a Tonberry does he?"

"Well no but-"

"Get rid of it."

"Can't we wait until it hatches and have a strike system? If it tries to kill me three times than it goes." Reno pleaded still hugging the cereal and making Rude question the Turk's mental age actually being above 5 now.

"Getting rid of an egg is much easier." He reasoned then rethought what Reno had said, "And what is this we business?"

"I've told you now, you're an accessory in the crime."

"I am not."

"So you're going to rat on me?" Another look of fear was directed at Rude, less extreme and more genuine. Rude mayn't be able to go over to the kid's dwelling and smash the egg but he could definitely snitch on him. Lucky for Reno he was not that kind of man.

"No."

"Than you shall be mother Rude." Just like that the mood changed and Rude lost control of the situation.

"What?"

"Or Mother Berry, that's negotiable but I draw the line on Mother Rudeberry." Reno carried on while Rude tried to catch up.

"If I am being dragged into this, then I'm being the father at least." Wait, no he was not going along with this he needed to get back on the 'getting rid of the egg' track not go along with parenthood one. Oh but Reno was already prancing about his apartment with the cereal and shouting at him did not seem appropriate, "Alright then, that'll make me the cool big brother or awesome uncle."

Slumping back into his seat he watched Reno twirl passed the television, new Chocobo Tale was starting he noticed and when the redhead got close enough he asked, "Then why was I given the mother title?"

Reno stopped just in front of him looking too pleased for Rude to have the heart to be mean, "You ask a lot of questions."

"Because I am a Turk." He sighed.

"Good for you Dad."

"You're being the uncle."

"Whatever you say bro."

Rude slapped a hand to his face, upsetting his shades and rubbed his temples, "I can't believe I am doing this."

"Heh, I'll inform ya as soon as it hatches." Reno said from somewhere across the room sounding a little triumphant to the rookie.

"Is that soon?"

"No idea."

"Swell."

Reno continued to prance, more in time with the Chocobo tune which was making a memorable imagine in Rude's brain but not making him feel much better about suddenly being roped into having some responsibility for a monster somewhere in Midgar and breaking rules. Lamenting over the strange shaky sensation he was experiencing and wondering how he'd look at Veld without betraying some guilt (he hated disappointing his senior ranks especially those he respected,) a vibration against his thigh startled him.

"Is this your PHS?" He asked holding up the sleek, shaking and buzzing device.

Reno stopped whatever he had started when Rude zoned out. "Yeah, it ringin'?"

Obviously.

"Yeah."

"Throw it over, I'll catch it." Believing in the Turk's confidence Rude lobbed it in his direction. There was a bad series of thumps and bangs. "Oh no I didn't," Reno merrily called from the floor. Rude rolled his eyes in despair but listened intently to the one side of the conversation, "Yes? Yes...honestly yes. I did everything...Well yeah I had help...no whips were involved...yeah...oh do you like them?...why not? ...Well that one you had to be there but don't tell me you didn't smile at little at the forest one, you did I can tell. No I am not alone, Rude's with me, we're going out to get his groceries in a minute. Yeah he was the one that helped me...We deserve a reward right? Like the evidence recovery mission against the Lou brothers set four weeks from now, sort of reward? ...aww, you said they were good before that means better than just satisfactory, I drew diagrams and everything...I am not whining. ...Okay...uh huh, okay...can I ask you one thing?...What will it take for me to get a place on the team...I know it's dangerous for me but that's what makes me perfect for the job...yeah I am going to the appointment tomorrow, most the bandages are coming off, well the visible ones are, except on the wrists. .. Ya can easily get this sort of stuff yourself, you know all this...yes I know it, I don't need reminding, but the mission...yes...yes...maybe...yeah,yeah...It's a great opportunity to stretch the rookies, havin' them on street patrol and filing is just blunting them after you did all that ceremonial knife sharpening. Gotta stretch the wings sometime, right? ...huh? we don't? But...hmm that complicates stuff... well it's ya call boss...Alright I'll come see ya straight after the doc's finished with me...bye, bye, I will, byyyyye."

Reno shut the PHS tabbed it thoughtfully on his chin put it safely into the pocket of his pants. Having heard his name come up Rude was impatient to get more details so asked, "Who was that?"

"Tseng."

Rude paused before he pried further. He had not quite expected by the way the redhead spoke that it had been to their senior. Feeling confident he tried asking about it directly. "What kind of relationship do you have with him? You are very familiar."

"Find the answers yourself if you're so curious."

Rude smirked, not really surprised but there was a flash across Reno's features for a barely a second that warned off the rookie from getting involved. He took the hint, "I think that's a rock I'll leave for now."

"Wise answer." Reno clapped his hands in a businesslike manner as if he had something important to announce. "Right we have a mission."

"We do?" Shocked Rude sprung from his seat a little panicked by the suddenness of it.

"Yep, operation fill your fridge, grab ya coat and wallet and we'll be off. Oh and try and look civilian."

Again Rude paused, reeling from the feeling of being fooled and knowing Reno was certainly laughing at him, he did not think he'd be taken literally and the naivety of new recruits was a delicacy to taken when it presented itself. Rude tried to cover himself by picking at flaws in the small Turks demands, "You don't."

Reno Looked down at himself, evaluated his scruffy appearance and announced "Oh yeah. Can I borrow some of your clothes?"

He was about to say 'of course' but remembered he had no such possessions as civilian clothes, in the closest there was only the tuxedo he'd been allowed to keep as it was tailor to fit and that just would not do. "I don't have any civilian clothes, only a coat." He said apologetically.

"Can I have the jumper you had this morning."

Marvelling at the Turk's resourceful mind he warned, "Yes but it's still quite sweaty."

"Ewww." The kid looked revolted but Tseng had them both making puddles on the training floor mats that morning so he did not see how his sweaty clothes was anymore gross than the redhead's.

"You want it?"

Reno contemplated it for a moment then held out his arms like a small child saying, "Gimme."

Coats and jumpers donned they exited the apartment and headed for the stairs, Rude did not mind the extra exercise and it reduced the chance of them being overheard which was good for him as he still had questions.

"So who are the Lou brothers?" He asked after a couple of flights down.

"Oh a couple of Dons trying to set up in Juon." The kid informed him, voice less out of breath than Rude's but then he was practically jumping down from landing to landing while Rude was taking three steps at a time. It was dangerous but it stopped him falling behind too much. "Plenty of troops so plenty of customers there for them, but plenty of opportunity to access ShinRa equipment as well." They reached the bottom and a fire door led out to a short alley, well lit from the main street. Fresh, evening air felt cool and good against Rude's exposed skin but he was glad he was wearing the coat. He hoped Reno was okay with just the jumper over his shirt but if the elements bothered him the Turk did not show it. They went left and walked parallel to the tower, Rude trusted Reno to know where he was going. There was virtually no one else outside so Reno carried on talking, "Corneo's worried about rivalry and he's trying to push for action, ya know getting his boys to unearth some dirt and pass it along to us. Last week they found out something actually worthwhile but it was just a recorded conversation between one of the brothers and his men in a bar. All too implicit but interesting enough to start sniffing around."

The streets were hardly crowded this late in the day but enough people were around that Rude took extra care to keep his voice low and as close to the kid as possible, "And you want this mission?"

"It'll have to be a team effort but yeah." Reno replied bounding along and forcing Rude to practically chase him. It probably made it difficult for people catch what they were saying but it drew eyes in their direction. "They own large buildings in Juon and we'll have to search them all, it'll take a couple of days and it's a huge risk job because if we're spotted its shoot to kill and goodbye body. Company erases your records and the Don's gang get rid of the body. Still getting out of Midgar sounds good."

They were keeping to the main streets; full of shops and populated by amiable civilians who'd much rather mind their own business than ask about yours. The street lamps had yet to come on which Rude thought quite odd as the nights were approaching faster as winter neared but they were already over an hour behind schedule. There was still enough natural light, the empty plains made it easy for even pinpricks of sinking sunlight to reach the city and then the Mako reactors and light from the tower lit everything but the darkest alleys anyway. He had observed the patterns he'd become accustomed to during the academy years were gradually altering, even the trains seemed to have altered their timetable.

"But it's dangerous for you because you're injured still."

"It's dangerous for me because I look young and they may have a people trafficking business which is one of the things we're confirming. Tseng things if I get caught, I will be drugged, shipped off to another continent and never be heard from again." Reno corrected as he scanned the shop signs. Rude did the same, liking how some had gone to pains to keep a traditional village shop theme that was quite up market while others were very modern and metallic. It resulted in an interesting blend that did not quite work aesthetically for the eye.

"That's a valid concern." He said, casting a glance at some monster designs in a tattoo parlour window.

The redhead made a 'pfft' noise and responded flippantly, "It won't happen."

"You can't be so certain."

"Sure I can, I am Reno of the Turks." Reno whispered loudly, again drawing eyes but Rude's frantic assessment concluded they'd probably not heard exactly what Reno had said.

Relived he resumed his sceptical prodding, "...and?"

"And I beat you didn't I?"

"Barely."

"Well whatever," Nothing seemed to dampened the kids joy of being outside the tower, Rude could probably make a obnoxious comment about him being better off in bed and Reno would probably shrug it off. Rude had no such intention, he kept his mouth politely shut while the kid babbled on, "keep ya ears peeled baldie the team could be rookie dominated anyway so you might have a shot of making it."

"Getting out of the Tower would be nice." Rude conceded as they turned into an unadorned grocery, well it looked more like a stock room with the top boxes open but appearances weren't everything.

"That's the spirit." The redhead cheered and playfully punched him in the arm. Rude ignored the look the boy at the counter gave them, but he'd make sure to count his change before he left. "Now do you want Miso or Tempeh or Natto?"

"Tempeh."

"Yeah Natto stinks, but what's wrong with Miso?" Reno asked one arm already full of packets of tempeh and the other hand holding some cheap Miso. Rude took a basket and caught up with him, he did not care about the quantities dropping in to the basket, even on a rookies salary he'd definitely be able to afford it all.

"Nothing, get some of that too."

"You got it."

---

A/N: Lots happening this chapter hope you don't mind some OC activity. Please tell me what you think and whether you liked how this chapter worked.

Take care.