CHAPTER NINE: THE PARTY IN THE TRAIN GRAVEYARD
[in which Reno can't contact a friend, Aerith makes her first appearance, and several revelations take place in quick succession]
Form /REP:6A
SHINRA ELECTRIC COMPANY
Department of Administrative Research
Mission Report
Mission to: Costa del Sol
Mission Objective: SOLDIER recruitment
Agents: Rude, Reno, Mink
Mission Date: March 16th 2001
Report filed by: Rude, ID S-DAR/M/56.S
Mission status: Accomplished
Arrived Costa del Sol 11.00 hours. Reno and Mink proceeded with identification and collection of potential candidates. Rude met with Charlie as per instructions. Charlie said AVALANCHE was not yet widely spoken of but he had heard the name mentioned once or twice. The offer was made to Charlie as per instructions. Charlie declined, but assisted Rude in the identification and collection of four SOLDIER candidates. Damage to the Bar del Sol estimated by the owner, Mr Mario da Silva, at g25,000. Firm quotation to follow. Rude advanced Mr da Silva g5,000 from expenses for immediate repairs. Please find receipt attached.
Selected candidates were brought to the ship and contained securely in the hold. Reno brought in five candidates including the one named Azul. Mink brought in six candidates, all from the Club Duel, after challenging and defeating the 'King' in hand-to-hand combat. Mink demonstrated exemplary battle skills and should be commended.
At 17.00 Reno went off duty. At 17.45 a fight broke out in the hold between Azul and some of the other candidates. Injuries were sustained. Azul was subdued by Rude with the assistance of Mink.
At 19.14 Rude received warning from Tseng of an attack by AVALANCHE on the ship. Rude left the ship to head them off. Mink remained to guard the ship. At approx 19.30 a force of AVALANCHE invaded the ship but were driven off by Mink and Rude. One of the AVALANCHE commanders, a man named Shears, reached the hold and released the candidates. Mink went after the candidates. Rude fought Shears and was knocked unconscious. At approx 20.00 Reno came back on duty, gave assistance to Rude, and assisted in the recapture of the candidates.
At 20.20 Rude received information from Tseng that the AVALANCHE ship was moored at Laguna beach. Rude and Reno went there intending to defeat and capture Shears. Shears fled. Reno and Rude returned to our ship.
At 24.00 ship set sail from Costa del Sol, arriving Junon Harbour 07.16 this morning. Transferred candidates to Midgar by helicopter, arriving c. midday.
Casualities: Shinra dead 0 wounded 0
AVALANCHE dead 12 (?) wounded 12 (?)
Civilians dead 0 wounded 20
Signed: Rude Dated: 17/03/91
.
The printer whirred out two copies of Rude's report, and he went to file them. On another computer, Reno was trying to write an email, but he was having trouble finding the right words. That was why he always talked Rude into writing their joint reports. Reno preferred to talk. When he spoke, his words seemed to come out OK, but when he wrote them down they looked… wrong. Rude would say it was because when you wrote your words down you had time to reflect. Reflection… yeah, that was something else Reno hadn't quite got the knack of yet. Whenever he tried to take a good look at himself, he seemed to go all blurry. It was like he could only see himself in sideways glances. Which made sense in his head, but would probably look stupid if he wrote it down. And anyway, why would she even be interested?
"Hi, Reno, sir."
He looked up to see Aviva standing at his desk, her arms full of files. "Hey kid, how you doing? Been busy while we were away?"
"Mostly patrolling Sector 8. I caught some muggers and I killed a chimera bug, but other than that it was quiet. I heard your mission went well?"
She had a little smile that came and went like a butterfly, landing on her lips and then flitting off again. He could see that she wanted to talk. But he wasn't in the mood.
"Yeah," he said, "There's nothing like a sea cruise." He pushed back his chair and stood up. "I'm going for a cigarette."
Rosalind glanced up from the gun she was cleaning. "Since when did you start leaving the office to have a smoke?"
"I'm all out, OK?"
Down on the cafeteria floor there was a cigarette machine in the rest area. Reno decided to take the stairs. The rest area wasn't too busy, just a few desk jockeys on break watching the TV news or reading the paper, and an army dude who looked familiar sitting alone on the other side of the big plastic tree. It was the blond kid, the one who'd never been in a helicopter before. Reno was surprised by how much it pleased him to see the boy alive. At least the poor sucker hadn't had to leave this world the virgin he so obviously still was. Maybe he and Aviva should get together. There was no rule against dating Shinra employees outside the department, and she had seemed to like him.
Yeah, she was a cute kid, he thought – for someone who was obviously a trained assassin and (he presumed) had had to sell herself in all sorts of ways just to stay alive. That time in the helicopter when he'd let her stroke his hair still felt weird to him. He'd expected Rude to needle him about it, but Rude had not mentioned it once.
Taking his cell phone from his jacket pocket, Reno scrolled through the names and pressed the speed dial. It rang and rang and eventually he was transferred to voice mail. Third time today. It would be pretty pointless to leave yet another message.
He bought his cigarettes and sat down under the big NO SMOKING sign and lit one. Smelling the smoke, a few people turned to look at him. Hurriedly they looked away again. When he was finished he ground the stub under his heel, flicked it into the bin, and went back to the 48th floor. Cavour had returned during his absence, and was talking with the others about a party he'd been invited to by one of the front desk receptionists. It was happening that night, and it was going to be huge. The lab scientists, the army grunts, SOLDIER, finance, personnel – everyone was going.
"Down in the train graveyard? They have that party every year," said Rosalind. "It's so much fun. I'd go, but I'm on duty, and so are Mink and Mozo. And Knox has gone back to Fort Condor. What about you guys?"
"I'd love to," said Aviva excitedly.
"Count me in," said Rude. "The music's always good."
Everyone looked at Reno. He heaved a sigh and said, "Yeah, sure, all right, why not? What could be more fun than dancing the night away with the same people I see in the elevator every day, the ones I take the stairs to avoid?"
"Why are you such a grouch today?" asked Rosalind.
"Because you're all buggin' me. I'll come to your party, OK? Now leave me alone. I have work to do."
.
Private Email
Subject: Hey
From: Reno
To: Cissnei
Date: 17/3/01
I'm back. How are you? Eyes blue yet? They'll get you in the end if you're not careful.
Why don't you return my calls?
I guess that's all I have to say.
His finger hovered over 'Send' for almost a minute, before moving to press 'Delete'.
.
Rufus was making a nuisance of himself in Tseng's office, walking around, touching things, opening files and pretending to read them, and complaining all the while. He wanted to go to the party but his father had grounded him as punishment for the Dr Wilbraham incident, thus sparing Tseng the task (since such tasks seemed to fall to him these days) of explaining that Shinra Company executives would not be welcomed in any case. Employees needed to let their hair down from time to time, to break lose in a controlled environment. Tonight they would have a lick of what tasted like freedom; tomorrow they would return to work secure in the knowledge that there was more to their lives than the daily nine-to-five, and they would be, Tseng supposed, content.
Rufus had apologized for Dr Wilbraham's death. The apology had sounded sincere, though Tseng remained unconvinced that Rufus was, in any real sense, sorry. The problem with Rufus was that he was bored. He had a job title but no real work, and with time hanging heavy on his hands he wound up on the 48th floor more often than not, looking for company and making mischief. He was drawn, Tseng presumed, by whatever it was about the work or the suit that attracted applications (Veld's loathed word) from jaded young aristocrats in places as far as apart as Mideel and the Northern Continent.
However, tonight Rufus was not Tseng's priority. He had another child weighing on his conscience whom he had put off for too long, in much the way that a man who knows he has a problem with some drug or alcohol will fight the longing, and defer the fix, in the struggle to master his weakness.
He stood in front of the mirror, straightening his tie, neatening his ponytail.
"Don't you ever change out of that suit?" said Rufus.
"I'm working tonight. You'll have to leave now."
He locked his door, using a key to which Veld had the only duplicate, and took the elevator up to the roof, where the helicopter he had ordered earlier was waiting to take him to the edge of the Sector Five slums.
.
Over in the train graveyard, the boomboxes set up on top of the carriages pumped out music that echoed from dead engine to dead engine, setting the hollow cylinders humming. Imagine a pair of giant rusty metal jaws chewing through crystal glass to the beat of a dying monster's heart: imagine that sound reverberating off the concrete belly of the plate, expelling the stale air from the lungs of the slums and filling them with the energy of noise. The rats and cripshays and other creatures that lurked here had fled to quieter corners. Inside, between, and on the broken railway carriages, the youth of Shinra danced.
Reno was wearing his other uniform: white t-shirt, black jeans, leather jacket. Keep it simple. He had been here for nearly an hour and with three drinks inside him he was beginning to feel almost glad they'd made him come. Rude had already gone off with a woman whose interest in him was clearly more than friendly. They were off in the crowd somewhere, grinding hips and getting messy.
What with the dust and the sweat, and the smoke and the shimmering metal, this party smelt to Reno like the rain Midgar never saw: like dry earth drenched by a cloudburst on a hot summer day.
He had looked for Cissnei but not found her. He had called her to ask if she'd be here, but no one had answered. Maybe she was out of Midgar, out on a mission somewhere beyond the range of phone signals. Could be.
Up on one of the carriage rooftops, Aviva, in her drainpipe jeans and cropped orange top, stomped her feet in time to the rhythm, punching the air and shouting the lyrics. That kid knew how to have a good time. What was the saying? Pluck the flower of the day. Yeah.
She caught him looking at her, and waved and grinned.
Cavour appeared at his elbow. Reno bent to let the boy shout in his ear. "Over in the next carriage – they're dealing materia."
"No kidding."
"Have a look at this." Cavour pushed an irregular lump, about the size of a zeio nut, into Reno's hand.
Up above the plate, the guys in the backrooms of the labs did their own private materia fusing after hours, mixing equal parts of regen, the best tri-thundaga, and a secret ingredient they refused to divulge, to produce little turquoise balls with a golden sheen that guaranteed twelve hours of total bliss. Magic Stones, they were called, and they weren't cheap, but at least they wouldn't leave you with permanent brain damage.
What Cavour had put into Reno's hand was no Magic Stone. He rolled it between his fingers. It had a greasy, cloying texture. He held it up to the light. Its colour was more grey than green, though it did have a yellowish glow. He sniffed it. As he had expected, there was precious little materia there. Some low-grade Lightning, but mostly crystalised ether, hyper, and locoweed – the kind of ingredients it was easy to get your hands on in the slums.
"Dragon Fang," said Reno.
Cavour was familiar with it too. "I've seen guys die from that," he said.
"Yeah, this stuff is crap all right."
"Shouldn't we do something?"
"We're off duty. Relax. Go have fun. I'll hang on to this." He put the materia in his pocket, and turned around, and saw them.
Cissnei and Zack Fair.
Cissnei, beautiful in a white dress, her hair loose about her shoulders. Zack, handsome in a black t-shirt and black trousers. She was standing on tiptoe, her arms around his neck. He had one hand on her breast, the other on the small of her back, holding her close against him. They were not dancing so much as moving against one another in a slow rhythm of intolerable intimacy. Even in the darkness of the slums his mako eyes shone blue, bathing Cissnei's face in their glow. Reno had never seen her look so happy.
.
The baby Tseng had once rocked in his arms was growing into a lovely young woman. This realization struck him anew each time he saw her. Her eyes were sometimes grey, sometimes blue, sometimes green, depending on the mood she was in. Her thick, light brown hair was kept tied in a long plait that hung between her shoulder blades and swayed from side to side when she walked. She was very slender, with little breasts and long delicate limbs. Tseng imagined the ivory of her fluted bones. He could have snapped her in a dozen places with a flick of his finger. Yet she moved through these slums, this church, with her shoulders back and her chin high, unconscious of her own fragility.
She said, "You have your serious face on tonight."
Preferring not to look her in the eye, he let his gaze wander among the pillars and the stained glass windows, relics of an older and, some might say, more beautiful world, though probably no more generous or less cruel than this one. Human nature was a constant. It was inevitable that she should have found this church, drawn to it in the same way that Rufus Shinra was drawn to the Turks, by a kind of homing instinct.
He said, "I'll be sorry when you have to leave this place." There was a line between honesty and confession, and Tseng was always careful not to cross it.
"Perhaps I won't have to. Can't we skip the speech? Let's go sit on the steps and listen to the music."
Strange how it always seemed darker outside the church than in. She settled herself on the stone step, arms wrapped around her knees. Tseng sat awkwardly beside her, straightening the knife-edge creases in his trousers. The distant music throbbed hypnotically. She closed her eyes and moved her head from side to side, keeping time with the beat…
.
Reno had never seen Cissnei look so happy. It made him want to smash Zack's face in.
Cissnei was his; she should be his. He wanted her. He wanted her. How could he not have known it till this minute?
He wanted her so badly it hurt, like the craving he felt for the first cigarette in the morning, the cold beer at the end of a long day, the Cure after taking a beating, all the things he couldn't live without.
He wanted to hold her like that, fit his hands to her curves like that, pull her tight against him. He wanted to bury his face in her hair like that, breathe in her scent. He wanted to run his finger down her backbone, suck on her earlobe, lick her pale neck. Kiss her soft mouth.
He wanted to be the one she clung to, the one whose face shone in her eyes.
He wanted her, but Zack Fair had her. And she looked so happy. That was the knife blow. He had never seen anyone look that happy.
.
"Do you like dancing?" Tseng asked.
"Uh-huh," Aerith nodded. "When I'm alone in the church I dance sometimes. But I've never been to a party like that one."
"When you're older, maybe," said Tseng.
"And will you be watching over me then?"
Always.
He said, "Time is a luxury you may not have. New enemies are springing up all the time. Last month they came close to wiping out Midgar. The time may soon come when we can no longer guarantee your safety down here. If any of these terrorists groups were to learn your identity, they'd come after you, and they would not make your welfare their priority. I know that to you this must seem like a choice of evils, but I want to be sure that you understand your situation. If we reach a point where, in our judgement, you're in danger here, we'll take you in by force – "
"Who will? You will?"
"Me or one of the others."
Aerith shuddered. "I'll never go back in that building. To me it's a prison. I'd rather die."
If the worst comes to the worst, and they decide to give you to Hojo, I will shoot you, I promise. And then myself.
Having this plan tucked away in the back of his mind was like jumping from a helicopter knowing he was wearing a parachute – how far would he let himself fall before he lost his nerve and pulled the cord?
He said, "You wouldn't have to stay in Midgar. We have offices everywhere. You could let us take you somewhere where the sun shines, where there's real soil under your feet. And grass. And rain."
"Rain…."
Ah –the magic word. She was tempted. Uncertainty crept into her face.
It would be the best thing for her if she agreed. He had to believe it. He did.
"No, I can't." Aerith shook her head. "I know you mean it for the best. But I can't leave the flowers. They would die."
She looked into his face, deeply, earnestly, wanting him to understand.
And this was why he came here less than he ought, less than he wanted to, more than he could bear to – because when she looked at him like that, he knew she was not seeing the Perfect Turk. She saw a man – maybe not a good man, but not an entirely bad man, either. He was her friend. She trusted him. And he allowed her, encouraged her, to put her faith in him. It was his job.
"Are you going already?" she asked as he stood up. "You never stay long these days."
"I must. I only came to see that you were all right, that you didn't need anything."
"And to lecture me," she giggled.
Such a longing she roused in him to hold something soft in his arms.
.
It was during moments of crisis, when most people would act on instinct and then regret it afterwards, that Veld's training of his Turks paid off.
Don't feel. Think.
Don't react. Act.
Be silent. Be secret. Be discrete.
Knowing that if Cissnei looked over her shoulder right now and saw him, something bad would happen, Reno turned and tried to force his way through the crowd. He would have liked to run, but the press of people made it impossible. Hands reached out to hold him, smiles invited him to dance, strangers' voices called his name. Everybody recognised the red-haired Turk. Normally they'd have drawn back to let him pass, but tonight they were all drunk, or stoned, or just happy.
My mistake, thought Reno.
He found himself being pushed past a bar. Grabbing someone's drink, he gulped it down.
"Hey!"
"Here," said Reno, scattering a handful of gil across the counter. He snatched another drink and drained that too. And then another.
And while he was doing so, another part of his brain was thinking furiously, and what it thought was this. He'd never claimed to have much in the way of morals. Turks were practical people and morals rarely helped to get the job done. So that was fine: other people could have morals, because other people had all sorts of stuff that he didn't have and didn't want and didn't even understand sometimes. But what he did have was a code of honour, the same as all the Turks. Obey the Chief. Complete the mission. Cover each other's backs. Nice simple rules to live by.
Don't fuck with your partner.
She was his comrade, his buddy; his fellow mischief-maker. They'd practically grown up together. She knew things about him he'd never told to anyone else, not even Rude. She was his friend. He would have trusted her with his life -
But this lust for her - this sudden, aching, out-of-nowhere urge to fuck her senseless - was like a snake chewing on his entrails. A hot, writhing worm. Irrepressible. All-consuming. Like nothing he'd ever felt before -
But she was his partner -
His mind was going round in circles.
Or maybe that was the alcohol.
If he drank any more he'd puke. He had to stop. He had to escape from here somehow, or at least get off this train of thought. Then he remembered the greasy little ball of adulterated materia in his pocket, the one he'd taken from Cavour and was saving for later. Now was later, or later was now. Whatever. Grimacing at its bitter taste, he tucked the dragon fang into his cheek and waited for its effects to soak through to his bloodstream. He hadn't taken this stuff for years, not since joining Shinra, where unlimited access to the real thing was a major perk of the job. But if he remembered rightly, it ought to do the trick. Or fry his brain, which right at this moment wasn't looking like such a bad alternative.
And anyway, she didn't want him. She'd wanted Zack Fair, and now she had him. And she was happy.
How had this happened to him? He'd never before wanted a girl who didn't want him. What would be the point? To be miserable, horny and frustrated? When Midgar was full of girls far from home and lonely for a little company? All he'd ever wanted was a good laugh, a good time, and good-bye. He didn't want to get to know them. He didn't want to hear their stories. There were days in the office when he might spend twelve hours at a stretch cataloguing the intimate emails of strangers, listening in on their phone calls and noting down their dirty little secrets. The last thing he wanted when he clocked off was more of the same.
And anyway, she didn't want him. She wanted Zack.
This music was so loud. The noise was making his head throb; his eyeballs seemed to be pulsing in their sockets. His whole body jangled. Lights were dancing in a circle around him. Like someone had plugged him into the amplifier and was flicking the switch on, and off, and on, and off….
.
The ringing of his phone woke him from a deep sleep.
Cissnei
He was naked on the floor of a room he didn't recognize, though by the light he knew it was somewhere above the plate. There were high windows, and a big bed.
Cissnei
His phone rang insistently, guiding him across the room to where his jeans had been thrown over the back of a carved chair.
Cissnei
He opened his phone. "Hullo?"
"Reno, where are you?"
"Oh, hey, Boss. I'm here, I think."
"Why aren't you in the office? It's nearly nine."
"Roger. On my way. I just have to go home and get changed first."
There was a long disapproving silence at the other end of the line.
Yeah, thought Reno, just bite me, why don't you?
"Make it as fast as you can," said Tseng at last.
You know what, boss? thought Reno. You ought to get yourself some, instead of mooning around after that flower girl and kidding yourself you've got us all fooled.
What he said was, "Understood."
Cissnei
He got dressed and turned to look at the body in the bed. He, she, whoever they were, was lying face down, very still. Looking kind of dead, actually. All Reno could see was the back of their head. They had shortish fair hair and a pierced ear. Reno laid two fingers on their throat and felt a strong pulse. So, just deeply asleep. An enviable state.
Cissnei
He had no memory of this person or of what they had done together, if anything. Woman, man, boy, girl –
Cissnei
He wouldn't look. He didn't care. What did it matter, anyway?
Cissnei
Having carefully removed every trace of his presence from the room, he let himself out, and quietly shut the door.
Author's Note
The idea of having a party in the train graveyard is not originally mine. It's such an obvious place to hold a huge noisy rave that there are probably many fics featuring similar parties; however, I first came across the idea in Karanguni's fic 'Dark Places' at .
For those who are interested in such things, the music Aviva is dancing to is, of course, "Only Shallow" from the album Loveless by My Bloody Valentine. Or it would be, in a different world.