the fool writes

Reno’s hands found themselves combing through his tresses once again, trying to tease the spiky layers to adhere to his wishes.

He leaned over the sink to the cupboard, opening the door with a frustrated sigh.

“Maybe it’s the hairdryer…not drying my fucking hair at all.”

His hands found what they were looking for- a round jar filled with clear liquid.

He unscrewed it open roughly and combed his hands through the gel, placing globs in chunks of hair and gradually layered the red locks over each other.

It was an intricate dance, a ritual that only Reno knew how to pull it off.

His routine was ingrained. Muscle memory, if you will. A peaceful fraction of time which was out of Shinra’s reach. It lay before the chaos and danger of the day, sacred and untouched…one of the few things Reno could have for himself.

The meeting. What could it possibly be about? It felt as if half the workload of a Turk was attending several meetings that posed as a very thin excuse of being necessary.

It was usually about protocol, mission preparations or debriefs that would be outlined later within countless files.

Files that he would barely glance at again, unless Tseng was on his case about it. Which he usually was…silently.

A hiss escaped Reno’s mouth through already gritted teeth as he pulled a stubborn strand into submission, a coat of gel easing the struggle.

Once that painstaking task was complete, Reno did a once-over glance in the mirror.

His hair was now gelled and styled into his usual spikes which left the easiest- but no less vital part of the long trail of red that rested down his back.

“Fucking…why do I do this to myself…” he muttered, reaching for a brush that rested on his sink.

As expected the hair was tangled from sleep, which was a pain in the ass to brush out; but it had to be done.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

6:27.

An empty bowl of long eaten cereal lay abandoned on the side, rustling being heard from the hallway.

A slim figure counted through his possessions off a mental list, adjusting goggles, straightening his low-cut black suit jacket giving his face a last look before leaving the safe haven into chaos.

Startling turquoise eyes glared into the reflection, waiting for a flaw to jump out and make itself known.

Nothing. Reno looked just the way he liked it. Shrugging off the last of the sleep plaguing him, out the door he went…and into the battlefield.

Opening the car door seemed to be a task that was extra difficult for him; the chill of the morning seeping through his overcoat and even through his suit jacket.

Flicking the heated seats onto full blast, Reno adjusted his seat and pulled out of the driveway, scanning the back of the car with narrowed eyes.

He could have left a little bit later, but when Tseng disclosed the meeting was taking place-that meant get into work as early as possible.

Assistants for the Vice President were constantly rearranging meeting slots and scheduling appointments which often overlapped with Turk duties.

Unfortunately for this department, escape was somehow never an option.

“These meetings are mandatory, unless a good reason is given otherwise.”

He never seemed to make up his mind, or remember that he had these meetings in the first place. He probably didn’t.

Why would someone so rich and powerful be inclined to actually do any work?

He didn’t actually have to work a single day in his life, really.

All of these pointless meetings were probably just a string pulled by his father, to keep the company’s best and only chance of survival never too far away.

Rufus, or Mister Vice President, was the center of the Turks’ orbit and always had been. Reno was willing to bet that security personnel duties would be shared once the time came.

Rude didn’t think so, arguing that it wouldn’t be practical. All those years, all that trust being wasted just because Rufus was next in line. Or even that there could be anyone better.

But weren’t the rich always somewhat frivolous? Everyone on Topside [and their father] had stocks tucked away somewhere. Usually Shinra.

Those kinds of people kept the visiting numbers of Costa Del Sol high. And often waltzed through Shinra’s corridors as if they were on a fucking school trip.

They’d be frothing at the mouth for a chance to even breathe the same damn air as Rufus.

Pulling into the company parking lot, the redhead yawned and pulled the handbrake up. Taking the keys out of ignition, he opened the driver’s side and leaned against it slightly.

The lighter’s flame kissed his fingers as he lit his cigarette. Reno didn’t flinch. Just inhaled and exhaled, trying not to shiver from the early morning winds.

He could have sworn that his hand was trembling from the cold, but made no move to get warmer. It was almost nice, a shock to the system to get the blood pumping.

Another inhale.

Exhale.

The prelude to an onslaught of Turk duties just waiting to begin. Reno felt a cough creeping up his throat and tugged the cigarette away from his mouth, using his other hand to cover it whilst he hacked up the smoke.

God, he breathed in weird again. Sometimes if he let himself get too relaxed, Reno was reduced to looking like a first-timer.

His eyes watered as he continued, streaming onto his suit’s sleeve.

Must have something to do with dehydration.

Yeah, definitely.

He threw the cig down and stomped on it, luxury leather snuffing out the flame.

After it was over Reno opened up his car again, grasping around for a bottle of water. It was here somewhere but- ah, there.

The first sip of water was a godsend, soothing his sore throat as he greedily drank it in.

“You’re here early,” a voice echoed in the silence of the empty car park. Reno found himself smirking as he finally got out of the car.

”Hah, don’t think I’m happy about it now,” he teased in return, watching the tall silhouette of Rude stride up to him.

He grabbed his belongings and goggles, securing them in their usual place on his forehead. His gloved hands fumbled for the car keys as he moved to get out, pulling them close and clicking the buttons to lock it.

“Could never, you’re always complaining about the mornings.”

Reno huffed out a laugh, hauling his bag over his shoulder and locking the vehicle, meeting Rude almost halfway to the building. The bitch had started walking in without him.

“Hey, what happened to waiting, partner?” Reno protested, rummaging around in his pockets to shove the lighter further out of view. He’d put it in a locker before the meeting- if only to keep Tseng’s inevitable disapproving looks at bay.

“Well, ain’t got no time to play around today. Tseng called me last night about the mission after this,” Rude deadpanned. Ah, right. A mission.

“Oh, yeah. That. Since when are these kinda ops last minute? I need to get a decent rest before a big one,” Reno spotted a mirror along the hallway and darted over and ran a gloved hand through his strands again, straightening out any spikes that he deemed unsatisfactory.

Rude adjusted the sleeves of his suit.

The foyer of Shinra seemed to already be bustling, frantic receptionists spilling tea or coffee in one corner, the arrival of hardcore trainee scientists in the other.

Despite the obvious leeway some Turks took with their uniform, there was an increased emphasis on proper presentation before a meeting with the Vice President.

Reno was always the biggest offender in the department, and never failed to be so infuriatingly blatant about it.

“Oh, is the princess fluffing up his hair? Kind of a wasted effort honestly,” a high-pitched, almost nasally voice cropped up beside the two Turks, making Reno snap his head sideways so hard he almost pulled something.

And there she was. Rookie of the Year.

Elena.

“Oh, and if it isn’t the flaky rookie who left me to finalise all of that paperwork last night,” Reno scoffed and turned back to the mirror. She wasn’t getting another response from him.

“Elena, glad to see you’re here,” Rude filled the silence in his partner’s place, stoic as per usual. The blonde turned to him and gave an uneasy grin.

”Oh, h-hello sir. Good to see you bright and early, too!” she managed between panic-ridden dusts of her already immaculate uniform.

Reno finally finished his sprucing and slung his bag over his shoulder once again, noticeably a little more put together than when he pulled up.

Seeing Elena still hanging around like a lost puppy made him roll his eyes.

“Rude, meeting!” he called out, before sauntering off towards the Turks floor. He didn’t have to turn around to know that his partner would be catching up, and so carried on.

Shoulda grabbed an iced coffee or something, he thought but made no move to divert his path. There was no time when so much preparation had to be executed flawlessly.

The Turks didn’t do below flawless.

Rude caught up to his side just as they reached the elevator, and hit the button engine waiting for its arrival. Reno fidgeted with his collar whilst Rude remained still, only occasionally moving to check his watch.

The lift arrived, the two Turks piling in the confined space. Rude moved to press their floor, but Reno beat him to it.

He flashed a smirk at his partner, who just shook his head and concealed a small smile.

After a painful few minutes of barely concealed laughing (Palmer got in after them on the phone, appearing to fail to appease someone important), the doors finally opened to the freedom of their domain.

Elena was somehow already there, still fretting over her uniform. Her eyes seemed trained on Tseng, flitting away for a second but always finding her gaze right back at him.

She caught Reno’s eye and looked down, with her face burning.

He fought once again to keep a straight face.

As he moved towards his desk near the back of the office, Tseng spotted him and made his way over briskly.

“Reno, good to see you. I trust you are prepared for the forthcoming mission after this meeting?”, he asked, voice lowered but his eyes were pressing for something.

Reno nodded, not entirely convincing, but Tseng opted to spare him this morning from a professional lecture, and sat down after setting his bags aside.

The room quietly entered into its own sense of chaos, the kind that the endless of papers and a subpar coffee machine could be.

Reno started by shoving an unfinished report into a drawer, not sparing it another glance.

He glanced over his desk and caught sight of a clock.

It read 7:10. Fuck, was that it? The VP wasn’t anywhere in sight, so it’d be unlikely if the meeting started before 8.

Benefits of being the next most important person in the city.

Must be nice.

Reno let out a sigh and slumped back into his chair. The flittering and the bustling was beginning to grate on his nerves.

He felt somebody looking at him and tilted his head upwards and smirked. Rude, even through his sunglasses, seemed to force his gaze through them as he strolled over with two cups of coffee.

“Well, you’re being nice today,” Reno teased, barely waiting before the cup lowered onto the desk before he grabbed it.

He hissed as the steaming mug burned his hand, but made no move to stop himself from quickly blowing on the drink and sipping it.

Rude made a quiet ‘tut’ and shook his head, Reno throwing up a middle finger as he placed the mug down.

“One day, you’re really going to regret not letting it cool down,” Rude remarked. He pulled up a creaky chair and sat across from Reno, who was now attempting to fan his mouth from the heat.

“Oh, screw you. Everyone knows it’s best to get caffeine straight and fresh, to get the most out of it,” Reno replied, rolling his eyes and leaning back once more in his chair.

The chaos that had echoed from the hallway was now subsided.

It was silent in the office, bar from Tseng’s usual hurried typing and Elena, who had barely uttered a word, sat and scrutinised paperwork.

The shuffling made it hard to focus.

Reno and Rude just sipped on their coffee, taking a moment before chaos would soon erupt again.

Tseng suddenly stood up, just as the Vice President waltzed through the office door, meticulous as always but a certain glint in his eye that Reno found familiar.

Rufus never spared a glance at Elena, who had scrambled out of her chair to greet him out of respect and sat back down with a silent sigh of relief.

Reno couldn’t help but let a sly smirk of amusement spread across his face, before bringing his mug to his face to conceal it.

“Everyone, prepare to move to the main meeting room in a few minutes,” the VP’s voice announced.

He turned to where the remaining two Turks were sitting and gave a curt nod in greeting.

Reno and Rude returned it, before getting up and gathering their belongings.

——————————————————————————————————

The walk to the main room seemed to drag on, the endless rooms and door opening and shutting in tandem made Reno’s head feel like it was shrinking.

Eventually, Rufus shuffled them all into a spacious office with a long table, stretching along the room.

Five glasses of water had been placed on expensive-looking placemats at the far end.

”Please take a seat, the meeting will commence shortly,” Rufus announced, striding to his seat at the head.

Tseng took the seat to his right with Reno across from him.

The Vice President stayed standing.

“I have gathered you here for two main reasons today. I believe that Tseng has briefed you slightly on the intended plans for Sector 7, but I also wish to prepare you for the forthcoming mission today.”

Reno blinked and sat up, his interest curdling with unease.

Rufus placed down a figure on the table, then drew his hand back.

“What is this figurine on the table?” he asked, voice laced with curiosity.

A hand raising could be seen out of the corner of Reno’s eye and the only reason he didn’t roll them was the sight of the Big Guy before him.

“It looks like a mako reactor, sir.” Elena was factual and concise, seeming to have found her voice in the suffocating emptiness of this meeting.

“That’s right,” Rufus picked up the figure and looked down at it, a small smirk gracing his features.

“This mako reactor is one of the strongest assets that Shinra has at its disposal. It allows us to,” he briefly paused,” borrow from the planet, to allow our world to flourish.”

Rufus’ hand continued to play with the figure as he pulled his chair towards him.

“So. With that being said, we all understand the importance of these reactors. They run everything. They are the bare bones and pillars of Midgar’s way of life,” Rufus continued.

He sat with one leg crossed now, his gaze focused on his Turks.

“They need to be protected.”

Nobody made a move or said a word to this, allowing their superior’s words to soak into the air.

Reno frowned, his brows scrunched together in slight confusion. This wasn’t news to him, or to anyone sitting at this table.

But the Turks weren’t usually the ones to be concerned with the reactors.

It was grunt work for he knew. Or cared.

He felt a nudge under the table on his foot. Tseng’s non-verbal warning to fix his face.

”Are you all with me so far?” Rufus finally asked, his voice sounding mildly curious but not without a slight…pressure.

They all hummed in acknowledgement, save for Reno who cleared his throat.

“All due respect boss, but I thought that SOLDIER had more of a hand in the reactors?” he observed, ignoring the feeling of Tseng’s subtle glance his way.

Rufus only let out a short laugh as he turned his full attention to the redhead, blonde stray hairs falling over his eyes as his head tilted.

”I promise this is relevant, Reno,” he replied. A draw could be heard opening, the rustling of papers and other objects filling the silence.

A remote was whisked out of the drawer, Rufus clinking a single button with a flourish.

The screen behind him was suddenly aglow with the signature turquoise of mako, taking up the screen with so much colour it made Reno’s eye twitch.

”Mako is our energy source. It churns up what we can take from the planet…giving us, those below in the slums,” Reno bit his tongue at this,” and thus, powering Shinra.”

The screen flicked to an image of a war-stricken setting; flames raging flames kissing the outskirts of a street.

Civilians were either running so fast you could almost sense the frenzy, the speed- or they were lying limp on the ground.

“We have had up to 23% rise in terrorist behaviours in the last 7 months,” Tseng had seemingly reached his silent cue, standing up but staying in his spot at the table.

“But it seems to point to one group more than all the rest,” as he spoke, the image shifted and zoomed in.

A scrawl could barely be made out on a filthy makeshift flagpole, burn marks tarnishing the fabric.

AVALANCHE.

Rude gave a tense sigh at Reno’s side, leaning back and crossing his arms. His gaze had not wavered from the screen since it was turned on.

If Rufus wasn’t here he’d scoff at it too. All of this pomp to explain terrorism?

What a cruel joke.

”i know that Avalanche is no news to any of us,” Tseng began cautiously ,”but they are rapidly starting to gain more power, as well as a reputation, among the people.”

”But isn’t that mostly from the slums?” Elena questioned, her face turning a light shade of pink as the focus was now on her.

Tseng gave a curt, non-commital nod and put his hands on the table.

”There are far more people in the slums than up on the plate. Many of them are likely undocumented, unaccounted for. That gives an advantage to groups such as Avalanche to claw their way in.”

”These…attacks. They haven’t all been connected to Avalanche,” Rude suddenly spoke up. We can’t begin accusing those below the plate simply because it’s not likely they work for the company.”

Reno, who was taking a much-needed sip of water, almost choked.

His eyes widened and scanned the room, before side-eying Rude with a barely concealed glint of amusement.

Rufus only looked thoughtful, eyes lowered to the reactor figurine once again.

Nobody dared move a muscle, awaiting his response. Even Tseng seemed to be holding his breath.

“Of course,” he finally uttered. “Not everyone is connected-but someone is going to know something.”

He turned his back on them, facing the screen completely.

”After all, the reason my father put forward the Sector 7 outline is for insurance.”

”The last possible intent…the final plan, is to wipe out the terrorist base.”

Reno felt his heart sink.

His hand gripped the side of the table as an effort to ground himself but the only thing he could feel was just pure dread.

”I believe that the meeting has concluded- which leaves us to prepare for a more pressing matter.”

The voices of Tseng and the Vice President were no longer distinguishable.

Reno snapped back into reality.

Right. The mission. It was a rare occurrence that he felt relief to talk about a mission.

———————————————————-

The crowd was relentless, suffocating with the sheer amount of civilians who were desperate to lay their eyes on a Shinra executive.

Reno rolled his eyes but stuck to Rude’s side as they followed Tseng through the swarms of people. He hissed, tripping slightly when someone slammed into him.

“O-oh, I’m so sorry, I got pushed-,” the culprit was scrawny kid, no older than sixteen at least. He was dirty, frantic, stumbling to his feet and pleading.

Reno straightened himself up and waved the kid off with a warning look, the boy soon squeezing through slivers and gaps between the crowd.

The more he trudged through the stream of civilians, the more Reno couldn’t help but notice the blind delight in their faces.

Mothers were holding children on their hips, waving at the soldiers, the poor kids’ faces being marred by confusion but joyous still.

A hand on his shoulder made Reno snap out of his observation, Tseng’s face etched in concern as he mouthed “are you alright?”

Reno nodded yes, going to shove Tseng’s grip on his shoulder, but he moved it anyway.

His face was cold, rigid and unreadable to these outsiders, but Reno knew that his eyes told the truth.

And they were disbelieving.

The people. The triumphant music that was playing, slightly muted so that the crowd could hear Scarlet rattle on about her cutting edge Shinra weaponry.

Reno couldn’t stand to look at her smug expression, the one that she seemed to wear constantly. He tried not to falter his movements and kept walking.

Thankfully Tseng and Rude were still ahead in his line of sight, as were the company cars that had been sent to pick them all up.

Finally.

”God, how many people?” he muttered, rubbing at a cut on his cheek.

It felt as though he had only just managed to grasp air, just as though he’d been trapped in an underwater cave.

Two 3rd-Class’ walked towards him and offered to take his things.

Reno obliged with a grunt but kept a firm grip on his Electro-Mag rod, to which the soldiers said nothing and did not press.

He wandered off to the left side of the car, reaching for the handle when he felt a sudden stab of pain from his side.

The redhead gripped the handle and threw it open. His body trembled with the effort maneuvering into the car, gritted teeth and tensed.

One of the soldiers moved to help but Reno held his hand up and stopped the guard in his tracks, then moved back towards the car and slid onto the leather seats.

The Mag-Rod was secured, turned off and placed on the floor. Rufus was adjusting his seat whilst the driver checked the mirrors.

Reno could see a woman, nestled in the shadowed outskirts of the crowd. Her head was bowed slightly, hair falling slightly past her ears.

He couldn’t but lose himself in the sight of her, so disconnected from all the commotion that was unfolding and yet so peaceful.

All of that unforgivable chaos, and this woman was simply perched on the world outside of it.

Reno didn’t hear Tseng ask him a question.

”-ou alright to go?” his voice cutting through his distraction.

Reno nodded mindlessly, his faraway gaze not straying from the woman for a second.

She was peaceful to watch.

He desired that peace for himself. He let out a sigh, the exhaustion of the day falling over him silently.

One day, maybe.

——————-

Reno knew how Rude’s brow furrowed when he had found a lead, how he sighed after a hard mission before pushing up his nth pair of shades.

When Rude looked down at the floor after the two of them massacred a bunch of terrorists, it meant that he was thinking about the man who had a wife back home, now lying in a pool of his own cold blood.

Good thing that Reno always seemed to have a snarky retort ready to fill the silence.

But, being a Turk means you have to straighten up before you go back into the wolf's den. Your mother won’t be there to adjust your uniform or your hair and scold you for all of the mess you’ve made.

Reno got paid to clean up Shinra’s messes. He got paid to eliminate opposition. And he hated doing cleanup, but he was damn good at it.

An abrupt ringing interrupted his dazed thoughts and Reno’s face twisted into a scowl.

“Now what?,” he rooted through his pockets before seizing the small handheld phone before flicking it open.

Rude.

“Hey partner, what’s up?” he drawled into the phone, balancing himself against the smooth wall of the Shinra building.

“Tseng has some paperwork to work through and wants a hand.” Ah, Rude. Straight to the point as always.

“Fuck, really? Why can’t he get Elena to do it?” Reno clicked his teeth and gripped the phone with a white-knuckled hand. Paperwork was a bitch.

Part of the job, but still a bitch if he ever saw one. Whatever. It had to be done, now or never. Actions came with consequences always; most of the latter came in the form of mission reports for damages caused.

Most of which were caused by him.

Not that Reno cared or anything, he got the jobs done and that’s what mattered. If anything mattered.

He shoved his mag-rod onto his shoulder as he put his phone away, reaching for his car keys. Or rather the company car keys, seeing as it didn’t actually belong to him and he had to return it.

——————————————————————————————

God, what a fucking waste of time.

Elena….fuck Elena.

Reno didn’t know how she did it, but the rookie managed to snake her way out of doing her share of group mission reports for the week.

Fucking Tseng, he didn’t know what was going on with him. Ha. Maybe fucking Tseng was how she did it. She always got herself into such a state about the guy.

“Elena should be the one doing this shit, don’cha think?”

Rude grunted as he painstakingly typed out his own hellish pile of paperwork. This unfortunately mandatory task was despised by the Turks, all except the head of them.

He was strangely calm in a way that could almost unnerve them, but they were all far too used to each other.

“I mean isn’t this the second time she’s made her way out of it? I don’t fucking know how she does it, Rude, but this bullshit isn’t fair-”

“Alright, I get it, it’s annoying that we’re stuck here. But you’re making it worse by being so loud,” Rude retorted.

He wasn’t any more enthused about being stuck here than any sane person…Reno could never just shut the fuck up about it.

Ever.

The redhead only scowled at the side of his partner's head, resumed typing loudly only to spite Rude.

He showed no visible reaction. Like always.

These reports were bullshit, all of them going over something he had gone over a hundred times already. And this one only seemed to highlight the mistakes he had made.

Like yeah, okay maybe he did crash the car in pursuit of a prolific gang member that the Turks had been practically stalking for six months. They got him in the end, didn’t they?

Reno just thought that bastards around here should be a little more thankful that he risked his ass constantly whilst they got to sit with the president and argue with each other.

It was easy money, in his eyes. Just send out the troops and issue an empty statement, that's what they did, and then acted as though it was a difficult task. It was bullshit.

Hah. That was quickly becoming his favourite word.

Hours had passed and Reno stalked out to his car, cursing under his breath. Rude had been as unimpressed about the extensive paperwork as he was, but had the uncanny ability to get it done with mostly no issue.

Mostly, because the biggest problem he had was probably Reno, whining and grumbling about protocol.

He opened the door and sank down into the plush leather driver’s seat. It smelled new, just the way he liked it. Despite having just wrecked a company asset by driving it, Reno treated this car like a baby.

He so much as got a cold sweat when the engine didn’t sound right. But this thing was smooth running, and as he plugged the key in and twisted it, the reminder was echoed in his mind.

“Let’s just go home, shall we?” he muttered, tired and bored. Takeout was singing to him tonight.

After the takeout had been scoffed down like he was a starved dog, Reno sat and just stared at the table.

The plate. Could they really be thinking of dropping it? What would the reason be, destroying other people’s lives?

Poor people, in the slums, who lived in shacks made of sharp hunks of metal on the outskirts. He should know what that felt like. He’d lived it already.

Reno swallowed back dryly, feeling his throat close up at the thought. All those people…would have to rebuild everything. And that would be if they even survived.

It would be too dangerous, surely. There was no reason, other than AVALANCHE, but they hadn’t truly done anything worthy of mass murder being inflicted on thousands, right?

The more he thought about it, the less sure he became.

RIIINNGG!

The shrill sound of his PHS shattered the train of thought, and Reno had no doubts about who it would be. He looked down. Tseng.

He flicked it open. “Hey, what’s up, Boss?”

“Reno, are you home?”

He held back a tired sigh and leaned onto his palm.

“Yeah, I’m home, what d’ya need?”

Rustling was heard on the other end. Reno recognised the soft slam of paperwork hit a desk.

“I was just calling to inform you about the meeting tomorrow,” the low voice of Tseng rang through the speaker.

The redhead bit back a groan and snarky remark, ‘What, haven’t we been living through enough fucking meetings?’ but did not risk opening his mouth. He guessed that this one was unavoidable. Again.

Shinra liked to pretend that even their most treasured departments got some agency about their professional lives. As if.

“Oh, right, sure. The meeting.” Reno bit out, barely concealing his irritation. He took a deep breath. “What’s the occasion, boss?”

A hum. “It’s regarding the outlined plan for Sector 7’s future,” Tseng stated flatly. Reno wrinkled his nose. Since when did blowing up a slum count as ensuring its future? Well, in a way it was; more or less the lack of it.

“Right. The plan. Is it still on?” Reno couldn’t help but ask. Tseng, ever the diplomat, said simply “Come in tomorrow and you’ll find out.”

Ugh. Couldn’t he go to sleep already?

“Well, I’ll be there, don’t you worry boss.” He stood up and stretched, wincing at the light cracks of his aching joints.

“Reno, before you go, remember to book some vacation.” The redhead in question paused and furrowed his brows.

Vacation? Why should he take a vacation when he was at one of the most active times of his career?

The Turks could really be on a roll when they pulled all the stops.

“I think you should take some time off, Reno. You have a lot of hours left over before the year ends.”

Reno scoffed. “Sure I've been busy, but a lot has been going on. I like being busy,” he protested. He did.

As much as he would allow, ambition knew no bounds. He had a good life, a real good life that was a far cry from his childhood.

The childhood that he pressed so far down he almost denied it was true.

“Fine. I’ll take some time off, could do with going shopping anyway.” He didn’t bother sugargoating it, content with guilting Tseng a bit about the workload. If he was offering, Reno wasn’t one to betray the order.

He clicked off the PHS and threw it down on the couch, running a hand through his red hair, grimacing. He really needed a shower.

However, with how exhausted he was feeling, it was hellish thinking about doing anything but throwing himself into bed.

As Reno trailed up the staircase to his room, thoughts of Tseng’s ‘suggestion’ of taking his vacation hours. He liked working, that was true. He liked proving to himself that he could handle his own life. Be his own man.

But…the temptation of having a few peaceful days off work after slaving after Tseng’s orders and the chaos of Shinra Inc. was too good to pass up. The absence of paperwork would be surely luxurious.

Fuck it. One more mission and then a break.

His room was a mess. Clothes strewn everywhere, in-progress reports he had yet to turn in…this shit could wait. Reno had to get clean.

The shower could be implied to be Reno’s happy place.

It was clean and orderly, probably the only room in his home that could be described as such; his skincare lined up on shelves, hair dye bottles with faint stains along the top.

He took his looks more seriously than his job half the time.

Call him Patrick Bateman, but a pretty boy’s gotta put the work in.

Damn it, this shower was heavenly, is all Reno could think as he scrubbed shampoo through his long hair, bubbles sliding down his arms and body as he stood in direct target of the shower head.

Feeling the grime, sweat and possibly blood swim down the drain, Reno sighed painfully, the ache of the day still lingering even after all the scrubbing.

That would only be fixed with sleep. And by the way he was fighting to stay awake amidst the hot jets of water, Reno didn’t think for a half-assed second that he would be conscious for long.

He made quick work of whatever suds were left and turned the water off. His red hair dripped onto the bathroom floor as Reno grabbed two towels and rushed to wrap his hair.

It was long and trailing down his back, soaked to the bone; as much work as he put into maintaining his red tresses, it wasn’t half a fucking job to get it bundled up and taken care of.

Rubbing the condensation from the mirror, Reno paused. His eyes didn’t seem to..gleam as they usually did, the striking turquoise less vibrant. He grimaced, gaze trailed to the slight bags under his eyes beginning to surface.

He shuffled out the bathroom without so much as a sigh. The desperation for sleep was really taking over him, though he needed to get his skincare routine in before he collapsed into the sheets.

And get his hair somewhat dry before it soaked his pillows.

As he applied such cream or lotions into his face, Reno felt his reflection staring back at him.

Point blank.

As if it were asking him something.

Are you proud of what you are? Sometimes.

Are you proud of how far you’ve come? Obviously.

What about all of the shit you did to get there?

Next question.

Reno could just about feel the urge to roll his eyes. The barely disguised bags underneath them made him pause.

He really didn’t know if he could ever atone for the many things he had done; his frail excuse of pure survival could only be stretched so thin.

Mista really hoped that he was wrong about this time. He really hoped that you had learned your lesson, taken his warning seriously.

But it appears you haven’t, have you?

Maybe it’s the fact that you were partly delirious with illness from your previous outing and didn’t quite understand what he was saying.

But it doesn't matter. He’s always there to correct you.

“M-Mista, I’m sorry, I j-just wanted to get some air-“

”Some air? Babe, come on, do I look like I’m gonna fall for that one?”

His jaw is clenched to the point where the grinding of his teeth seems to revertebrate around the room. His hand, the one with the gun, trembles with what is most definitely rage this time.

“I didn’t mean to-!”, you’re cut off by a harsh backhand across the face.

It stings and throbs and you almost can’t register when you slump over the side of the bed. The chain keeping you there chafes your ankle roughly.

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you, sweetheart.”

In the midst of your pain and agony, you know that in some twisted way that he’s right. You weren’t just testing him; you were disobeying in desperation.

Pure, raw, animalistic. You felt like you were being kept in a zoo.

Your thoughts are cut short when you slam into the headboard.

You choke on spit and what tastes like blood. You don’t let this deter you from moving out of the way from Mista, who has just thrown a mug at you.

It shatters on the wall, ceramic and cold tea spilling all over it and landing a few drops on the bedsheets.

You’re both breathing heavily, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He looks as though he’s snarling at you from the corner of your eye, and he might as well be.

Adjusting yourself, you slowly turn to face him, to gauge the distance between you. Mista just stares straight at you, unmoving but his heavy breaths are slowing down, his hands stop trembling from pure rage as he sets his gun aside.

You can’t breathe. You’re so happy that the gun is down, the gun is out of Mista’s hands but you can’t breathe because you don’t know what’s coming next.

He’s calming down. He’s too calm. You can feel your body start to shake, as much as you want it to stop.

”C’mere, baby,” he finally says and you can feel yourself go numb. Mista’s eyes have been on you this whole time and the rage is simmering within his eyes still. So you don’t move an inch.

Wrong move.

He grits his teeth impatiently and points his finger at you, and then at his lap.

The realization dawns on you too quickly and you grip the side of the headboard to ground yourself.

Wasting no time you gather yourself and begin to inch towards, frantically quickening when you hear him click his fingers. It means hurry up or I’m going to make it so much worse for you.

You’re on his lap and Mista’s hands have already started to bruise your hips. You hope he can’t feel you trembling…but you know he can. He knows you too well.

“Could you get back on the bed for me, sweetheart?” he whispers, his breath hot and heavy, right next to your ear. You stand up. You move back onto the bed.

Mista’s on top of you in a second, one of his hands pushing down on your chest with the other putting pressure on your leg.

Your breaths are coming faster as you try to squirm out of his grip.

“I told you what would happen if you tried again,” he hissed, the pressure on your leg mounting as he wrapped his hand around the calf.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to leave I-“

“You what? Stepped outside the fucking door to say hello to the neighbours?” He cuts you off, taking his hand from your ribcage and replacing it on your leg with the other.

The weight felt as through Mista was almost trying crush you and-

CRACK!

A scream tears from your throat as an immediate burn of agony bursts from your leg, soaring all the way up to your hip.

You swear you hear a crunch, you feel the grinding of your now broken leg hang limp.

Your eyes are streaming with hot tears as you hiccup and sob underneath Mista.

The tears blur your vision, but you can not mistake his glare through them.

It's unfeeling, unfazed and you can only lie here helplessly. You try to jerk out of his grip but a fresh new wave of pain comes with even the slightest movement.

That chain jangles all the while.

”Y’know, if you had listened the first time, I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

The bed is soaked through with your tears, because you know he’s not going to stop with just one broken limb; Mista’s going to teach you a lesson.

And he’s going to make sure it sticks in your mind for a very long time.

———————————————————————————————

this can be considered as a part 2 to the previous Mista request i got. i’ve not written much stuff as violent as this before which is crazy considering that i write pretty much only dead dove content but i hoped you liked it regardless!!

You wondered if he would come down again today. He had woken you up that morning, gently, barely moving a muscle when you turned over and refused to listen. His gravelly, worn voice hardly rose above a whisper when muttering a reply that you so happened to not listen to. 

He had wordlessly and rather swiftly left the room not long after, not seeming to deal with another one of your tantrums. 

Good. You were glad he was leaving you alone. You hoped he laid there in his plush coffin in the dark and hated himself for how he had betrayed you. And not just you; the party. He had led them into danger to get to you…and now you couldn’t bear to ask him if they were okay. 

So for days on end, you slept. Or worried. Or braced yourself for the mysterious, shrouded individual to show his face at the basement door, whenever he could rouse himself to bother with you. You refused to cry. 

If you had any remaining sympathy for Vincent, it was quickly beginning to wane by this entire…situation. You weren’t sure what to call it. It wasn’t really a kidnapping; he hadn’t exactly lied to your face and as he had said on one occasion, “omitted the truth”. 

While you had spitefully protested, Vincent seemed to take no notice and left you yelling at the four walls of your new ‘room.’ 

But other than that, you were chained to the dreaded thought of waiting. Waiting restlessly for any news of your friends’ survival. 

Vincent didn’t like to talk about them much. He let you ask your questions and plead with him whilst he hummed and lightly stroked your hair. 

The thick chain around your ankle left little room for leaving anywhere. 

Despite keeping you against your will, Vincent never shed his antisocial nature. He rarely spoke as it was, but his preferred method of communication was to gaze at you. 

His eyes made chills run through your whole body. They always seemed furious; a wild and untamed glow that trailed over every inch of you. 

Today was not looking to be a normal one, and it filled you with a heavy dread. 

It was a warmer day, the glare of the sun beating through the dusty windows- the only method of seeing the outside world left. 

You had no need for a blanket and so rested in a thin nightgown provided by Vincent. It was (annoyingly) a beautiful piece of clothing. 

You once asked how he knew your size- the question burning through your lips as soon as it left your mouth. Vincent replied coldly and knowingly, as if your obvious distrust in him had unnerved him. 

“I remember the shopping trip in Costa Del Sol. Do you?” 

You nodded. He left. 

It became clear that he knew more about you than you originally thought. In your first few days locked up in this room, things started to jump out at you. Things you noticed.

Because you recognised them.

A Loveless poster from a busted up billboard you had scavenged. A hair clip, an expensive gift, that you had despaired over misplacing. 

You thought about the drawer.  Nosing around when  you first got here gave you a nice little surprise when you found a collection of your underwear in it. All of them. The older, frayed ones and your favorites all neatly packed up. 

Only then did you begin to get an idea of just how far deep this went. You still felt sick even after months of just being here. 

But what could you really do?

Chained to a bed and going stir crazy in this tiny room?

A knock crashed through your train of thought.

It was too late.

Knock!

Your passively useless thoughts had used up your time.

“Do I need to be concerned about what you’re doing?”

The voice was the familiar gravel of Vincent.

Most of the time you couldn’t stand how low it was, rough and scratchy, like he barely spoke.

Which was in fact true, but he always appeared so…strained.

It was his very physicality, when he halted his movements, or tilted his head in that catlike manner.

Vincent moved as if he were desperately trying to prevent something.

Moreso, himself specifically. And now as he opened the door stiffly, he stood there intensely awkward, as if he hadn’t really caught up with what to do now that he was facing you.

Even after all this time in such captivity, Vincent was always maintaining a safe distance from you most of the time.

His tall figure towered over you, but he always pulled himself back from being too close.

“So. What took you so long to open the door, hm?”

You fidgeted on the spot, barely meeting his eye. Vincent huffed.

“I was…getting dressed.”

Lifting your head, you noticed his gaze was already fixed on you, his bright eyes full of disbelief.

Or maybe it was something else, like curiosity.

Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to want to know.

“You know…keeping a routine, while I’m here,” you managed.

Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

You had conceded to this ridiculous notion after having an impromptu breakdown after Vincent had left the room one day.

He tilted his head, eyes scanning your face for any traces of a lie before closing them and resting against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Looking down, your eyes followed the contours of his shadow, imposing as ever.

“That’s not a bad idea, I suppose.”

You looked up, trying to steady yourself as you processed his response. Huh. You’re not sure what you were expecting. But it felt…wrong to see Vincent be so agreeable.

He never really talked at all with everyone else, but he spoke his mind when he felt it was important.

The others-yourself included (formerly)- held a large amount of respect for Vincent, his loyalty and commitment unwavering despite everyone else’s fears.

He stayed a constant presence of calm, seemingly barely able to be shaken by anything. He just didn’t ever really seem to care. But you knew he did.

It was in the way he never raised his voice at you, not paying any attention to your outbursts.

It was in the way he left you food dutifully, despite being locked out of your room. It was always left on a tray outside, one of those metal bowl looking things keeping it warm.

It was in the way he looked at you.

Like he was now, but Vincent’s eyes were slightly wider than normal as he looked down at you.

“A routine,” he repeated. You nodded. Silence.

Vincent didn’t move for what felt like ten full minutes. Then he straightened up, standing full height and simply bowed his head.

“It just gets…stagnant here. It’s boring,” you replied slowly. You didn’t really have to say that, but you couldn’t really lie and say that you were happy here could you?

You weren’t. It wasn’t a secret, frankly you didn’t think that Vincent deserved to be placated by you, his literal hostage.

Vincent had no reply. He simply stared at you, gaze unwavering as usual.

You shivered slightly, but never broke eye contact.

He sighed again, but moved a step back into the hallway.

“I know it’s not the best here-” Vincent began.

“Understatement,” you harshly cut him off.

“But it’s for your own good.”

You grit your teeth. This again?

“How exactly is this,” you gestured around the dimly lit room you called home “for my own good?”

Vincent took a half-step closer towards you. You stepped back, stumbling slightly as you attempted to keep a distance between you both.

The long, heavy chain rattled against the floorboards as you moved, a clang ringing against the metal bars that held your bed.

Vincent didn’t even flinch as he advanced, metal gauntlet rustling as he moved with measured steps. You were reminded of his height once again, towering, imposing.

Fuck.

“It's…not safe out there.”

You both came to a standstill, not another stumble nor a step.

You froze, hand gripping the threadbare shirt you wore. Knuckles turned white.

Vincent had stilled by now but his gloved hands were clenching and releasing, as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

Please don’t touch me I don’t want you near me-

He sat hesitantly on the bed. Almost gingerly, like a new pet figuring out its surroundings. In any other situation, you would laugh.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt. That’s why I’m doing this,” he finally managed. Your brows furrowed.

“But I’ve been on the road for months,” you said. “I’ve been fighting with the others for a while. I have been with them since the plate collapsed!”

You threw your hands in the air and clenched your fists, inhaling sharply.

You felt Vincent’s eyes on you but made no attempt to look at him.

“They’re my friends. I wanted to help them.”

Turning towards him, you could feel rage barely simmering below the surface. He was acting like he saved you from your own misery.

“I know i haven’t been great. But did you forget that you stole me from my own life?” you reminded him.

“You may think you care about me more than the others, but you’re so wrong that you don’t even realise what you’re doing!”

You started to pace around the room, frenzied and focused on your own thoughts needing to be heard.

“You were reckless every single day with the party, doing things you shouldn’t have even thought about,” he finally said.

Your head whipped round faster than your brain could catch up, seething. Never thought about it?

Never thought about it?

You remember the first time you had met Tifa, Aerith and the others in a completely unexpected twist to a previously bad day.

Job hunting in Wall Market wasn’t for the weak, especially as there was the added threat of accidentally being eyed up by that disgusting pig who seemed to pick women off the street.

Meeting Cloud-who was also looking for a small job- had sent you into a tailspin.

Helping him out, meeting the rest of his unusual…team, and simply being roped into the truly insane world of trying to defeat the one thing that wouldn’t ever happen.

But you had nothing to lose. Shinra had fucked you over here and there your whole life, and you wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Not just to you, but anyone.

You regretted your blindness deeply.

The traumas and grief and anger at the company between you all only made to strengthen your determination to see the mission through to the end.

And Vincent…well, he stole you away from it.

He stole your life, your friends and your freedom from you and expected you to be grateful for his kindness.

“It’s hard for you to understand.” His tone was almost morose. Almost like he cared.

You were breathing heavily now, practically racing over all of those times that could have warned you for this.

You had made it so easy for him to pluck you out of your life and seal you up into this shitty basement where it was cold without a portable heater and six dozen blankets.

“Vincent, can I just ask you a question?” you asked. The raven-haired man simply gave you a curt nod and crossed his arms, leaning forward slowly.

“Do you feel that it’s been…worth it, doing all of this?”

You wring your hands nervously, back and forth twisting as you await his reply. God, you were supposed to be angry, not shivering under the weight of just…him. Being here, in your room.

It was suffocating.

He took it in for a moment, you saw his eyes widened with surprise at your boldness, but he didn’t allow his face to show the same weakness.

It seemed as though years have passed when he finally gave you an answer.

“Yes. I do.”

It’s final. You knew that he feels some kind of responsibility for you given the way that things had turned out, but it didn’t aid to satisfy your curiosity.

But you thought if you ask him again, you’re going to get an answer you wished you hadn’t heard.

———————————————————

hey soooo this is the Vincent wip for the poll i did months ago :0 i know it’s been a WHILE since i did that but…work and my shitty laptop made it really hard for me to stay consistent with posting.

i also have never written for Vincent before, so i struggled with this a lot and i still don’t know if it’s great 😭

“Can’t believe they’re thinking of dropping the plate down there.”

It was a common thing secretly uttered by many of Shinra’s workers in recent days, when the plan had been spoken of in many meetings and proposals.

It was met with disbelief, shock and pure rage in some instances when it was confirmed as a plan in progress. 

Of course, those were only a select few who were so enraged. This was all in absolute discretion of course; god forbid you were to get accused of not supporting your company’s every whim. People had disappeared before.

No one else was willing to make the same mistake. 

A pair of spotless black sunglasses sat on the table of the office, lamplight hitting them harshly. The walls were stained from cigarette smoke, and the smell was hastily covered up by expensive aftershaves over years of secretly trying [and failing] to hide it.  

“I don’t think they will, personally,” a voice, cool and deep, rang out. “It’s too risky with all of the other bullshit going on.”

“You mean AVALANCHE? Why is it more risky for the guys at the top than us who have to deal with the bullshit?” A brash laugh was heard in reply, guttural and raw with something close to amusement, disbelieving almost.

“Well, if they do decide to drop it, we might be the ones at the controls. Remember that, Reno.” 

“Won’t Heidegger do it? I know he wouldn’t turn down a chance to cause more damage,” a quick, sardonic laugh followed. “He’d probably enjoy it.” 

“Hm. Maybe it would be more his style.”

A door opened and measured steps followed through. 

“So. I gather you are talking about the proposed plan for the plate drop.” 

Tseng was neutral as always, hard to read at all times. A true leader and professional player in the workplace of Shinra, which helped him gain the respect from other executives. 

Reno wanted to have his sense of calmness, but he had always been too much. Just too much energy sometimes; Rude always remarked it was a wonder anyone could keep up with him.

But Reno was just like that. And he wouldn’t change for anyone. 

“Yeah, boss, I just have a few questions?…”

Tseng nodded. 

“Isn't it a little bit overkill to drop the plate? I mean, it’s just the slums!”

“Correct.” 

“So there’s no reason for it, is there?,” Rude interjected, resting a closed fist on the table. 

“It’s only been drawn up as a last resort, I assure you. We have many executives that aren’t on board with it, so it’s taking some time with all the stalling.” Tseng didn’t show his emotions often, barely if even at all, and yet he allowed a soft sigh to pass his lips.

Unlaboured and calm…as if he was secretly relieved. 

Though, as always, he never gave anything away.

“By “many” you mean…like four or five?,” Reno prodded. “I mean, no one else would care if it’s just the slums.”

Rude hummed in agreement and adjusted his glasses. 

Tseng paused to look at Reno; there had always been such potential in him. Eager to work yet so hungry to soak up the world he hadn’t seen.

He looked so young, despite being almost as old as himself. Tseng forgot that sometimes.

He forgot that there were people even younger, in SOLDIER…in the slums. 

“The meeting is over. I give you the rest of today off due to an early finish with the morning mission. Tomorrow is a bit of a slower day, so not much excitement is anticipated.”

A groan from Reno resounded throughout the office, but was quickly silenced with a swift dig to the side from his partner as they made their way out of the room. 

The silence was loud once again. 

-------------------------------------------

The clicking of the keyboard was all that could be heard in the darkness of the office. The sun had long set, the only light coming from the glare of the monitor, coupled with a weak lamplight that was slowly fading out. 

Huh. 

The typing ceased for a moment and a head turned to gaze at the window, facing the mako reactors that surrounded the building. Were they  brighter tonight, or was it just the lack of light getting to him?

Reeve was a hardworking man, a frustrated one at that.

All of this sacrifice. All of this work. The belief that he once had in it, the pride…it was diminishing piece by already fractured piece. It was always going to be dicey working for Shinra; it was always going to be divisive, ridiculous, dangerous even. 

Being in this position put a lot of targets on his back from the day he stepped in here.

It was supposed to be Reeve improving things, helping build a new kind of future for all, not just on the upper plate whilst the slums suffered in squalor and struggling for money. 

This new approach…no this new version of “necessary improvements” was taking it to another level entirely. It had been just four years since the supposed death of Sephiroth.

Zack Fair, too, who was too young and bright-eyed for his dream to be a hero.

His life was taken, and his dreams were stolen from him. 

Had they learned nothing from times past? It seemed unlikely that they had, or if they even cared to change it. 

The hierarchies were the same, the roles were being played dirtier and the jobs were getting harder. 

Or maybe they were hard just for Reeve. He was never someone who took pleasure in causing violence, or distrust.

He never wanted to force people to withstand horrific experiments and procedures. He hadn’t stopped the others though, and that was where his faults lay.

He was too weak for it. 

He could only hope that the Lifestream would eventually bring him peace. 

----------------------------------------

so. this is the prelude of the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written. i hope you liked it, i love writing for him so much it's like an addiction and i can't physically or actually bring myself to want to stop