AN: I swear to God this actually happened. When I used the phrase "Friendship is Magic" in the omake, I thought, "where have I heard that before? Oh yeah, it's the name of that new My Little Pony cartoon everyone's talking about, the one that eats men's souls. Ha ha, I bet that does not actually happen. Let's check it out." Eight hours later I'm a goddamned brony and it's all your fault. Just cross your fingers and pray this doesn't turn into a My Little Pony crossover fic, like Fluttershy comes and saves the Turks. Anyway, on with the story.
Junon, a city of seven thousand residents, had risen to prominence as a Shinra base during the war. It was in the waters of Junon harbor that Wu-Tai's vaunted navy had been crushed, after being led being into an ambush by a double agent. Now it was the principal transit hub between the Eastern and Western continents, and known alternately as the Jewel of the Coast, and the City of Lights. It glowed blue and white after sunset, like a sapphire set in the seaside cliffs, and in its boisterous entertainment district, the mako lights burned well past midnight.
The Anchor, a small but respectable bar on the promenade, was shuttered at one in the morning. A tall, healthy-looking girl with thick red hair chased out the last of the drunks, cleaned out their glasses, and transferred the contents of the register to the cash box. She'd cleared over three hundred gil in tips; not a bad night. She was smiling to herself as she lifted the bucket (called the "devil's pot") into which customers spit, poured their unfinished drinks, and occasionally vomited, and opened the door to the alley.
It was a cool, clear night, and the stars appeared sharp overhead, interrupted from time to time by the passage of a military jet. She admired them for a moment, before hefting the stinking contents of the bucket onto the paving stones.
"Hey!" came a voice. "Watch the shoes! I just bought em."
The girl jumped. A man was standing just outside the light that pooled from inside, only visible as a pair of shoes and a lit cigarette.
"There, an' ye scared the livin' ghost out o' me!" she said in a loud, reproving voice; but unafraid. "Feck along now, we're closed."
The man sounded hurt. "Listen to yourself. If that's how you greet your own brother, I'd hate to be one of your customers, Siobhan."
Siobhan's face went slack. She stared into the shadows, until a face resolved itself; then she gave a long, quiet sigh.
"How far do I have to get from hell 'fore the devils quit following me?"
"Oh, so I'm a devil now? This just gets better and better. Should I go before you chuck another of them buckets right at me?"
"P'raps you should."
Reno shrugged. He tossed the cigarette into the fetid pool, and stepped forward.
"If ye've come for money, there's none to be had."
"It aint about money, sis."
"An' yer sober?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
"Then come in," she leaned her head out, cast a glance around, "before ye're seen. This is a respectable bar, Reno. Can't have it known the likes of you are allowed in."
"Alright, alright." Reno slipped discreetly inside, brushing past her. "With family like you, who needs enemies."
"An' if you bring trouble over this threshold, heaven help me…!"
"I left my trouble back at the hotel. I'm not looking for a place to stay either." Reno held up both hands. In the light of the bar, he looked tired, relieved, and altogether disarming."I just wanted to see you. Honest."
Siobhan threw her arms around him, burying his face in her hair. She was an inch taller than him.
"Ow! Watch the ribs, I'm an opera singer!"
"Curse yer lyin' tongue," she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder, "you're a no-account thief still, are ye not; but I love you. I'd rather have you around than money, respect, an' a sense of basic decency."
"Thanks…I guess."
"What're y'doin' here, Reno? Did ye make enough to get out from under that plate? It's an evil place," she said, with conviction. "You're well shut of it."
"Don't I know it. Nice place you got here," said Reno, looking around. It was a tiny, cosy room, and the hardwood bar and stools glowed orange in the light, and the bottles flickered like sputtering lamps.
"What'll it be? Ye are sober an' that's no lie, so have a drink to celebrate."
"Gimme a Mideel Mixer. With the little umbrella. I got to settle my nerves."
As Siobhan moved behind the bar, she shot him a hard glance. "So there's trouble after all?"
"Not now. But, I get the feeling I might be walking into it."
"No use cramming sense into that head of yours! Have that drink, then best be on yer way."
"Yeah, yeah."
Reno settled on a stool, and his shoulders fell in. He looked years younger, here, whether it was the light, or Siobhan's presence; as he'd perched on a stool after hours in other bars, until his kindly sister slipped his underaged self a spoonful of whiskey.
Over the click of the bottles she said: "Y'have no one but yourself to blame fer yer troubles, Reno. We come from poor stock, but poorer folk than us have made good."
"I know. I can tell that from your shining example."
Reno studied her face as she busied herself. All at once, he pulled back in alarm.
"What happened? Your face…"
"Oh?" Her fingers brushed a small, nearly imperceptible scar on her right cheek. "There was some business…it's in the past, now."
"I'll murder the guy."
"There'll be no murders! You've still got father's temper, and no mistake. Drink up, duck."
She placed the blue drink in its cocktail glass in front of him, and, as promised, it was adorned with a red paper umbrella. Studying its Eastern design, Reno remarked, seemingly from nowhere:
"You know what? Stay away from goddamn Wu-Tai."
"Now that's speaking sense."
Reno sipped quietly, and took out another cigarette. Leaning against the bar, Siobhan turned on the television. It was an inane travel show, with some pop singer relaxing in the hot springs near Icicle Inn; she pressed mute, but left it on. The glow of the screen reflected on her face.
"Dear Reno," she muttered, shaking her head. "Dear, sweet fool. Mr. Styles took ye in like a father, for our father's sake, and you washed it down the drain with a bottle o' whiskey. Liquor's the curse on our family. Always has been, always will be."
"Listen. I'm gonna make a change…alright? I got some big opportunities lined up."
"An' how often you've said the same words."
"This time," said Reno, and took a deep drink, "I mean it. You just watch. It's gonna take everyone by surprise. In a couple days, the world's gonna see the new and improved Reno. I'm sick of being a loser, sis, and I'm sick of living in the sewer and answering to the King of the Rats."
"What's this about a King o' the Rats?"
"Nevermind…you know what?" he said, with a grin. "I think you're scared. You got so used to your idiot brother, the lovable failure. You wouldn't know what to do if I made it big."
"I'm scared," she said firmly, "you'll get your fool brains blown out. At least y' know how to fail, I'll say that." She leaned closer. "I have money. Take it."
"It's not about the money. It's about respect."
"I love you," she said. "Isn't that enough?"
Tseng was in trouble. The memory of being lashed to a chair, helpless for the first time in decades, smarted fresh in his memory, and now he was being held hostage by the most powerful man in Junon. No weapon in the Turk's arsenal would break his grip. Even now, as he returned from the bathroom, the voice rang in his ears:
"Turk-man! I ordered up another round of champagne for you cats, and this band's, like, sizzling-hot! And you were talking about goin' back. Get a load of this guy, ladies, and he's supposed to be Shinra black ops. Hey Tseng, if you can't party, how will you have the stamina to track down our enemies?-Whoosa! Hey baby, come over here and see who Rufus is! I got something for ya!"
Rude tugged at his shoulder. "Please, sir…don't put that money in your teeth. You don't know where it's been."
Stepping into a bar on their first night in Junon, they'd had the singular misfortune of bumping into a vacationing Rufus. Security prevented them from telling him what they were doing there, while self-preservation prevented them from disobeying even one of his jocularly phrased "orders." They'd spent the past few days trapped in various bars, lounges, and finally this strip club. The two junior agents they'd brought along-Elena, and Hunter-were combing the streets; but Tseng didn't have much confidence in them. The ferry left tomorrow.
Under the tacky red light, the world resembled an insane carnival with Rufus, sweaty-faced, his trenchcoat open to reveal a pasty chest without a single hair, as its ringmaster. He smoked a cigar and tossed bills onto the stage, and onto their table, which the girls on either side of him pretended to fight over.
"That's right, babe, my daddy's President Shinra! I wanna turn on your power, you know what I'm saying? I wanna plug into your socket. Ooh yeah. Hey Tseng, I got a weird question. Do my nipples look funny? I think they look funny, maybe it's the light. I don't know what would've happened to make them look funny."
"They look fine, sir."
"That's right, baby," said one of the girls in a sultry voice, stroking them. "They're the cutest little things I ever seen."
"Ha, ha! Hey, where the fuck's that champagne? I'm starting to sober up. Breathing the same air as this Wu-Tai motherfucker is making me sober. I'm not discus…discriminating against you cause you're from Wu-Tai. I'm discriminating against that stick up your ass. You got to let out some juice, know what I mean? Hey, baby, how'd you like to socket my friend's materia?"
"Ooh, he's real cute, Ruffie-baby! I'd like that a lot!"
Tseng discreetly brushed the girl's hand off his knee, and reached for his drink.
"What about you, you big bald fuck? You look like you could take two chicks at once. Oh man, that'd be super hot. We should do, like, four chicks at the same time…nah, that'd be kind of gay. Oh Tseng, Tseng, I made up a song about you while you were in the pisser! How's it go. Um…Turk, Turk, Turk, make it work, work work…hang on, something's happening here. Baby, get me a pencil and paper.-Oh, finally with the champagne, we're dying of thirst in this desert. Put that shit right between my legs. Y'know what, the hell with glasses, let's pass the bottle. Ninety-nine goddamn Turks on the wall, ninety-nine goddamn Turks…if one of those Turks, should happen to fall…"
The door opened. A moment later, the jazz band fell silent.
"Hey," said Rufus, blinking drowsily. "Did I tell you guys you could stop playing? Huh?"
The chatter of the other patrons quickly faded away. It was replaced by the clicking of a large number of boots. Tseng looked around. In an instant, he had drawn his gun under the table, and a glance at rude confirmed he had done the same.
Rufus yelled after the band, who had begun to pack up their instruments: "Do you know who I am? I'll buy all your families and pimp out your sisters!"
At least twenty armed men had entered the room, and taken up positions around the red satin curtains. Tseng reached around the frightened girl and prodded Rufus in the ribs.
"Wha?"
The girl clung to him, whispering: "Ruffie-baby…what's going on?"
A man in a cream-colored suit walked in, fastidiously, brushing at his suit whenever it touched one of the tables. A large man followed him.
Tseng sipped at his drink.
"Fisk," he said.
Dyne's shotgun came up. "What did you call the King?"
"Dyne. I was going to send my condolences to the hospital. I didn't realize you were back on your feet so soon."
"No," said the Rat King, in his slightly nasal, pedantic voice, and pushed the barrel down. "It's alright. Why should I care what a dead man thinks of me?"
"Did you come here to start something, Fisk? It's a bit early in the morning for this shit."
"Hand over the materia, and I'll be on my way."
"I don't think so."
The Rat King adjusted his glasses. "I didn't expect that you would."
Rufus looked at Tseng, seeming on the verge of nervous laughter. "Hey, Turk-man, who the hell is this guy? Some kind of gangster?"
"Be quiet," said the Rat King.
"What did you say to me? Don't you know who I am?"
There was a loud crack, and several girls screamed. In an instantaneous motion, the Rat King had drawn his gun and fired into the table directly in front of Rufus, and it left a smoking hole. The boy squirmed back, eyes bulging.
"I said, be quiet."
"E-easy there! Any further and you'd hit the family jewels!"
"Rufus, do what the man says.-Fisk. We don't have the stone. A girl took it."
Idly, the Rat King spun the revolver around his finger. He considered. Then he looked at Dyne.
"Do we believe him?"
"Yeah," said Dyne, snarling, "I think I do. I can just about believe the big, bad Turks lost the stone to some little girl. That's not something he'd make up. Plus, that case aint on his arm no more."
"If you find her before we do," said Tseng, "you're welcome to hang onto it for the thirty seconds before I send you to hell. Me? I'd prefer to spend my last days doing something a bit more constructive, like tutoring a needy child. But, to each his own, I suppose."
One of the girls, unable to control herself a moment longer, burst out: "Please, mister, don't shoot that thing! I don't deserve…!"
The Rat King aimed the gun at her face. "What did I say about being quiet? You people aren't very good listeners. Honestly, this could all have been so simple…"
Tseng brought his gun from under the table; Rude did the same. Every rifle in the room trained on them, and the girl sobbed.
"We're finished here," said Tseng. "Do you really want to shoot that girl in front of President Shinra's son?"
"Those glasses aren't doing you any favors, Fisk," added Rude.
Cooperatively, the Rat King nudged at them. He leaned forward, peering at Rufus' face through the haze of cigar smoke; then nodded several times.
"Ah…yes. I see the resemblance."
Dyne's arm was twitching, and his face was dark with impatient violence; but the Rat King pushed him gently back.
"Just let me do it. Both these guys have it coming."
"Now, now, Dyne. Let's not overplay our hand. It isn't best practices. Tseng, I trust we'll both forget what happened tonight. When we meet again…it will be under less pacific circumstances."
"You should have stayed in your Kingdom," said Tseng, staring at him from behind his motionless hand and the gun it held. "This is the real world. Here, you're at the bottom of the food chain. Now scurry on home."
"You either have what it takes, or you don't. You don't. You're content to serve…and a man like this, no less," with a trace of humor in his eyes, the Rat King glanced at Rufus. "I climbed one ladder. I will climb another."
Still looking him in the eyes, Tseng lightly moved his left arm. It nudged his champagne glass, and upended it; the golden liquid arced over the table, and onto the floor. It formed a snake that quickly made its way to the tip of the Rat King's shoe, and he flinched back as if bitten, and scraped the toe on the instep of his other shoe.
"Oops," said Tseng.
Chapter eighteen of the Kagesho, the ancient ninja training manual, was entitled Hiding in Plain Sight. In the Sea Breeze, Junon's premier hotel, there was nothing especially odd about the sight of a well-dressed, if petite woman in a sleek overcoat, and the large sunglasses were not uncommon among those looking to disguise a night (or morning) of heavy drinking. The woman clicked her way on heels through the marble and crystal lobby, gave her name at the desk ("Contessa Pelozzi"), pocketed her key, and made for the elevator. While she waited, she touched up her makeup in the reflective brass doors. After a minute they slid open.
"Goin' up," said the blue-uniformed lift boy. "Which floor, miss?"
"The fifteenth, if you please."
"Roger that."
The doors closed, and the elevator began to move with a pleasing hum. She began to study the lift boy. He was studying her.
He threw the lever again, and the lift shuddered to a halt between floors.
"H-hey, what gives!" squeaked the Contessa Pelozzi, in a voice very unlike the one she'd used a moment before.
He plucked the sunglasses off her face, revealing two large, scared, girl's eyes. Then he removed his cap, and dark red hair fell over his forehead.
Reno's eyes were narrowed with purpose, and his hands were tight. He was prepared for anything; except, perhaps, what happened.
Yuffie threw herself at him, and gripped him in a desperate, rib-squeezing hug. He gasped.
"Stay back, sister! I don't know what you think you're…"
"Red," she said, her small face buried in his suit's breast. "You came back."
"Came…back! I chased your bony, traitorous ass all the way here from Midgar, what do you mean I came back! And what's up with this Red shit, aint you supposed to call me scum-nuts or sleazoid or something!"
"It's not like that!" Yuffie insisted, still holding him. "I went back to the hideout, but you weren't there! I-I was scared! I mean, my dad's after me now, and he's even scarier than the Turks!"
"Oh, like I'm gonna fall for that. You're a liar, little sister. They always told me a woman's trouble. I guess that even applies to a girl like you."
Now Yuffie hit him, a more familiar attitude.
"Shut up and listen, you stupid loser! Listen…you messed me up, Red. I was fine on my own before I met you. Now I'm just scared all the time. I double-dog swear it's true. I…missed you, okay? I did."
"Well…" Reno softened, but gently extricated himself from Yuffie's embrace. "I aint saying I trust you. Just tell me how you got away."
"My dad and Tseng got into a fight. The case came off, and…I kind of grabbed it."
"How do you kind of grab the most valuable materia on the planet? What are you gonna do with it, anyway?"
"That's just it! I don't know what I'm gonna do with it! I don't know how to put it back together…and if I bring it back to Wu-Tai, my dad'll just take it. He'll probably give it back. He keeps talking about how he hates the Shinra and everything…but I know it, he's yellow. He gave up a long time ago."
"Huh. I'm not exactly congenial to the idea of summoning whatever fucking monster that thing summons. But I guess you're not about to sell it on the black market."
"No way."
"The King would pay a mint for it. Shinra, too. All that money would do Wu-Tai a lot more good than some rock, and you'd have enough left over to put a pool in the yard."
"I…" She shook her head back and forth, like an infant refusing food. "I just don't know anymore! Dad was never supposed to find out. I told him I was going on a pilgrimage to some shrine. Now it's all a big, fat mess. You gotta help me, Red."
"Um…well. Hypothetically speaking. What would you want me to do?"
"Just get my back. We're partners, right? I'll…I'll think of something."
"And maybe after this, we could pull another job?"
"Yeah! We totally could. We make a pretty good team, don't we?"
"Old-school bandits, huh…robbing from the rich, giving to the poor. Well, by the poor I mean ourselves, but we'll be pretty poor, so no worries." Then Reno leaned on the wall of the lift, put one arm over his face, and laughed. It was somewhere between ironic and sincere, between relieved and exasperated. "You really are something, sister," he said. "I thought I'd met every kind of lousy human being there was, before I met you."
"Does that mean you'll help me?" Yuffie's eyes were wide, eager.
"When you walked into this elevator," said Reno, shaking his head, "I thought you were a stone-cold cheat. Now I wonder if you aint trusting me a bit too easy."
"Oh, come on." Yuffie rolled her eyes. "You're the most honest sucker I ever met. If you could lie worth anything, you'd be a lot better off than you are now."
"Okay, enough chit-chat. Where you headed?"
"Costa Del Sol. The Turks are here. I bet they think I'm taking the ferry, but I got a smuggler to sneak me…I mean us, on a cargo ship. It's slower, and it arrives the day after the ferry. Those saps won't know what to think. It'll totally blow their minds!"
"The Turks? Still?" Reno frowned, but then shrugged. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. They're persistent. Well, we beat em once, we can beat em again. Maybe…maybe we can use the stone to blackmail them. Say we'll use it, unless they do what we want."
Yuffie jumped. "That's great! See? That's, like, what you're here for."
"Woah, hey, it's a whole lot easier said than done. Cool your jets, princess. Anyway…you really staying here?"
"I switch hotels and looks every night. I still got money from…the mako gun. I pawned it. Sorry."
"That's okay, I figured. With this stone, we got a bargaining chip worth a hundred guns." He pulled the lever once more, and the lift began moving. "Fifteenth floor, miss, fifteenth floor. Linens, ladies' things, and priceless materia. Stand clear of the opening doors."
Yuffie donned the sunglasses again.
"Thank you, my boy," she drawled, and pressed a gil tip into his hand.
AN: Yeah, Reno's sister is meant to have a light Irish accent. He lost his.