At the far end of the enclosure stood a magnificent creature, plumage glowing silver in the moonlight. From the opposite corner, shrouded in black, a challenger stalked closer. Bird versus man, each holding the other's rapt attention.

Rude glanced at the farmhouse, vehemently hoping its inhabitants were heavy sleepers. Whatever form the duel between Reno and their target would take, it would not be silent.

Blanco made the first move. With a hiss the chocobo charged, straight for the red-haired Turk. Rude was not surprised by the speed with which Reno danced to the side. What he hadn't expected, however, was for the kid to grab hold of the bird and swing onto its back.

The chocobo warked and flapped its wings, flinging its head this way and that in a frantic effort to rid itself of its rider. Reno let out a steady stream of curses, clinging to the long neck with both arms wrapped around it. If it was an attempt to choke the bird out, it failed. Blanco hopped and bucked in a wild jig, until a sudden stop combined with a sharp twist flung the Turk off its back.

Reno somersaulted through the air, landing with a heavy thud a few feet away, barely avoiding the fence. Rude's heart skipped a beat, but his partner moved before he had a chance to. With a dazed look on his face, the kid raised himself by his elbows and shook his head. Then he sniffed once. Twice. Reno's nose wrinkled in disgust as he looked down, realizing he was lying in a pile of chocobo dung.

Blanco warked, prolonging the sound with an odd staccato. If Rude hadn't known better, he might have concluded the bird was laughing.

Unfortunately, Reno did not know better. A steely glint appeared in his eyes as he scowled at their target. The Turk picked himself off the ground with smooth, deliberate moves, focusing on the white chocobo with predatory zeal, and Rude knew he had to act fast.

"'Kay, new cover story," Reno seethed once Rude was within hearing range. "The farm was attacked by a huge motherfuckin' dragon. Everythin' burns down, crispy 'bo wings for all. Everybody fuckin' wins, yo."

"Dragon? Here?"

"The dumb fucker got lost, all right!?"

The kid had turned pink in the face, his nostrils flaring with every huffed breath. He glared at the bird with what Rude could only describe as unbridled hate. One wrong move, one wrong word and the younger Turk would explode like a firecracker of violence.

Rude pretended to consider the terrible plan, counting to ten in his head. Maybe the kid would be smart enough to do the same.

"Too messy."

"And this ain't?" Reno hissed. "I'm covered in goddamn bird shit!"

Rude gave the situation some more thought. Better to try a different tactic, he decided.

"You're camouflaged now. You can fool them."

Reno aimed his scowl at Rude. "Want me to shove you in it? 'Cause I fuckin' will, and then you can go fool 'em, all camo'd up!"

"Won't work without your hair."

"Huh? My hair?"

Rude nodded. "Need it for the disguise. Plumage, you know."

The younger Turk's eyes narrowed to slits, his hand inching closer to the pocket that held his mag rod.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" he asked slowly, emphasizing every word.

This was it, the point of no return. If Rude has misjudged the other Turk's character, the next words out of his mouth would provoke a sorry end to this mission, not to mention his own fledgling career.

"You're scrawny, too. Just like a tiny 'bo chick." Rude allowed himself a faint smile.

Two seconds ticked by in deathly silence. Then, Reno's jaw dropped.

"Holy shit. You are kidding me!" he crowed, his eyes lit up with delight. "I don't friggin' believe it. Baldy's got a sense of humor!"

Rude frowned. "Baldy?"

"Hey, you're the one who started talkin' trash 'bout my hair."

He supposed he couldn't deny that. And he did prefer the silly grin on Reno's face to the icy, homicidal glare, even when the latter was aimed elsewhere.

"So, are you up for it?" he asked.

The kid stopped his snickering, his eyebrows shooting up.

"Wait, you're actually serious 'bout this crazy-ass camo plan of yours?"

Rude nodded, the shadow of a smile still on his lips. Reno laughed.

"Eh, what the hell. How much worse can it get, right? I'll test it out on Mama Bird first, tho'. I've landed in enough shit for one night." Reno mussed up his hair, making the sorry mess stand up even more, and smoothed out the front of his filthy jacket. "Right, watch this. Mama Bird's gonna freakin' love me, yo."

The chocobo family was still where the Turks had left them. As soon as Reno moved towards the avian trio, Daphne dropped into a defensive stance again. He continued his casual saunter, but slowed to a halt in the middle of the intersection.

"Hey there, girl," he drawled in a low, soothing tone. "How you doin'? Bit of a wild night, huh?"

The chocobo lowered her wings a little, tilting her head to the side.

"A pretty bird like yourself shouldn't go wanderin' at night in a place like this, y'know." He raised an arm and presented his hand, palm upward. "Why dontcha come over here, eh? Let's have a lil' chat, get to know each other."

When Rude had signed up with Shinra, he had not expected to stand around watching a coworker sweet-talk chocobos on company time. The bald man suppressed a snort. This was what he had moved continents for, abandoning a promising boxing career in the process. Talk about regrettable life choices.

The bird seemed more appreciative of the redhead's efforts. Her wings were now folded against her body and the cautionary warks had quieted. When Reno took a slow step toward her, she hesitantly mimicked his actions.

"Yeah, that's it," Reno encouraged. "Don't worry 'bout my buddy Rude back there. He ain't gonna crash the party. It's just you and me, Mama Bird."

Rude felt a sudden urge to laugh. Or maybe cry. He wasn't sure which was more appropriate for the situation.

Another step brought the chocobo within reach of Reno's outstretched hand. Rude instinctively hid his fingers in tight fists. The bird sniffed at his partner's hand, then took another step to repeat the process with the spikes of red hair jutting up at the top of Reno's head. The man reached out and stroked the yellow plumage, and Rude released the breath he'd been holding.

"Who's a pretty bird?" Reno crooned, stroking the feathery neck. "You are, Mama Bird. Oh, yes, you are."

The chocobo cooed softly and lowered her head, rubbing her beak against the redhead's cheek. Reno snickered. No, Rude corrected himself with mild astonishment, not a snicker. That had been a bona fide giggle. The giant bird had made his cold-blooded Turk partner giggle.

"Hey, Baldy, I think she likes me after all!"

Rude watched in fascination as a boyish grin formed on the other man's face. Until now, Reno seemed to have three modes only: hyperactive, indifferent or blind with rage. The switch between the three was jarring, often outright unnatural. Just days ago Rude had watched the younger man, face completely blank, put a gun to a man's head and pull the trigger. Two minutes later, Reno was chatting about office gossip and cracking jokes.

This mission had been different from the start, for reasons Rude could not fathom. Never would he have imagined to see the same Turk stroke a chocobo with such a happy smile on his face, like a boy with his pet puppy. While Rude could not quite understand the appeal of oversized chickens, it was a relief to see the kid show normal human reactions for once.

A loud screech pierced the idyllic scene. A blur of white feathers shot in through the stable doors and crashed into the redhead hard enough to send him flying. Blanco lunged after his quarry, but the female bird hissed and stepped in his way, raising her wings in a threatening display. Thwarted, the white chocobo let out a baffled squawk and scrambled to a halt.

While the two birds hissed and sized each other up, Reno lay flat on his back, blinking in confusion. The startled chocobo chicks flocked to him, trying to hide in his hair, but scattered when Rude rushed up and grabbed him. At the panicked chitters of her offspring, Daphne whipped her head around, and Rude hurried to drag his partner to a safer distance.

Blanco saw his chance. The next second was a blur: a frantic flapping of wings punctuated by a startled wail. Reno wriggled and pushed at Rude's arms, struggling to free himself.

"You see that?" he shrieked. "You see what that fucker did to Mama Bird?"

Rude hadn't, but the yellow feathers in Blanco's beak told the story well enough – along with the female chocobo's frightened cries as she fled out into the paddock.

Reno shoved Rude down as he leapt to his feet.

"That fuckin' does it! Birdbrain's goin' down."

"Reno!"

Mag rod in hand, extended and fired up, the Turk lunged. Blanco was ready for his opponent, crest feathers puffed up and stubby wings spread wide. The bird's head shot out at lightning speed, striking like a snake, but Reno was faster. Instead of a beakful of Turk, Blanco received an electric shock straight to the head and went down like a sack of potatoes.

As the stable erupted in a chaotic din of warks all around them, Rude stared at the crumpled heap of prize chocobo, the smell of singed feathers and lightning filling his nostrils. A trail of smoke curled up from the bird's head and disappeared into thin air, much like his prospects of a Turk career. Deep inside his chest, an undeniable urge to strangle someone was taking form.

Reno stood over his defeated opponent, snapping his mag rod into its stowed state with condescending sneer. Then he caught the look on Rude's face and cocked an eyebrow.

"What? Birdbrain's still alive, yo. No harm, no foul." The redhead sniggered, shoving the mag rod into his pocket. "Heh... Fowl..."

Rude's fingers twitched.

"Reno," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the racket. "Do you know how much a chocobo weighs?"

"Oh, c'mon," the other man scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "How much can it be? Birds fly, y'know."

Rude took a slow, deep breath.

"Chocobos don't."

Reno paused.

"Oh. Oh, yeah." He looked down at the bird's feathered bulk, still twitching at his feet. "Fuck."

The redhead pushed a hand through his hair, a look of mild panic on his face.

"'Kay, so, shit happened, gotta roll with it. Looks to me like we gotta haul Birdbrain's feathery ass back to the truck somehow. Ideas?"

The redhead's determination and can-do attitude to the problem brought Rude's simmering ire down a notch or two. Maybe the kid was right. Maybe the mission could still be salvaged. Refocusing on the job, Rude looked around until his gaze landed on the rack of halters and ropes in the alcove.

"Use the ropes, maybe."

Reno considered it, nodding slowly.

"All right, let's go with that," he decided. "You rig somethin' up quick. I'll get Mama Bird."

Rude had begun moving to the rack, but stopped in his tracks and shot Reno an incredulous look over his shoulder.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. I'll be back in a sec," the redhead promised, already on his way toward the side door.

"Reno! We need to leave."

Rude had to try, though it was likely to just earn him an order to shut up and do as he was told. The "kid" did outrank him, after all.

Reno paused in the doorway, looking back at Rude with a pleading look on his face.

"C'mon, man, I can't leave Mama Bird out there with her babies. There could be wolves and, uh... bigger wolves... Shit, I dunno what the fuck lives out here, but I bet loads of 'em think chocobos are walkin' dinners, yo."

Rude just stared, taken aback both by the offering of an explanation and by the explanation itself. Then, allowing himself an exasperated sigh, he gave a sharp nod.

"Just one sec," Reno repeated, taking off again.

Deciding it best to just concentrate on his task, Rude selected the longest piece of rope, about as thick as his thumb. It took more time than the bald man had hoped, but he managed to wriggle the rope in under Blanco's body and wedge it between the wings and the legs. With a sigh, he sat back on his heels and studied his handiwork. Rude had no clue about the proper way to truss up a live bird for transport. He could only hope the makeshift harness wouldn't strangle the damned thing.

The chocobos had calmed down a little, their warks no longer loud enough to trigger a migraine. He could faintly make out Reno's voice outside, mumbling sweet nothings to the rattled yellow chocobo. So far so good, much to Rude's amazement. If they could finish up quickly, they could still make it out undetected.

The rookie Turk got up to give Reno a hand, but froze as his gaze fell on a new source of light, visible through the open main door. A window on the second floor of the farmhouse had lit up. Rude bolted to the side door.

"Reno!" he hissed. "Lights!"

The redhead looked up in surprise, then snapped his head toward the house.

"Shit! 'Kay, Mama Bird, we gotta haul ass. Just come along with your pal Reno and we're all gonna be fine."

He took a step forward, reaching for the nervous chocobo. Rude could not believe his eyes.

"The mission's over! Let's go!"

Reno shook his head. "We still got this," he insisted in a calm voice, still soothing the bird as he sidled closer to her. "Get the big doors, put Birdbrain back where we found him, then hide."

Hide? Hide where?

Yet Rude found himself following orders. He rushed back inside through the main stable doors, closed them behind him, then grabbed the rope and gave it a solid pull. The harness held, and he felt an incongruous tingle of pride as he dragged the unconscious bird across the stone floor toward its stall. Once inside, he nearly groaned out loud when he realized he would have to undo all his hard work. It could not be helped, however. With sullen tugs, he yanked the rope free.

Blanco lay sprawled on his side, legs wide and his head upside down, beak hanging open. To Rude, the bird looked more dead than alive. The sight would give the farmer a heart attack. Trying to recall the pose of the first yellow chocobo he had seen at the beginning of this misadventure, Rude began arranging the listless animal into the semblance of a napping bird.

Reno's cajoling had met with success at last, for while Rude worked, the other Turk and the birds entered the stables at a brisk jog. With one arm hooked around the base of the chocobo's neck and a hand on her beak, he guided Daphne back to her stall while the chicks tottered after them on their gangly legs.

"That's it, that's a good bird. In ya go."

With a grunt, Rude shoved Blanco's head into position near the legs, completing the guise of a curled-up, snoozing chocobo. Now to hide himself. Lacking options, he plunged into the straw behind the bird. The musty smell of hay tickling his nose was overwhelming, but with a bit of luck, the bedding combined with the animal's bulk would be enough to keep him concealed in the dim light.

Rude heard the adjacent door close and latch. Seconds later, Reno dove over the wall into Blanco's stall, just as the stable's side door creaked open. The scattered warks that greeted the newcomer were enough to mask the sounds of the redhead scuttling into cover.

After a tour of the other end of the stable, the footsteps came to a halt by the female chocobo's stall.

"What's got you all worked up, Daphne? Is it the funky smell?" A yawn, followed by a patting sound and a quiet wark. "Don't worry, girl. Got a storm coming, that's all."

Reno was pressed flat against the wall of the stall, right next to the door. Rude could see the mag rod in his hand, drawn but not extended. He wondered what materia the other Turk had equipped. A Sleep spell at the last second could save a situation about to go wrong.

The farmer moved again, stopping by Blanco's stall. From his limited vantage point, Rude could see a weather-worn face peer in. He mentally urged the man to move on, before the itchy straw poking his scalp became unbearable.

The farmer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the top of the door, staring at the white chocobo's still form. Rude held his breath, his mouth dry and his blood thundering in his ears. The man was practically looming over Reno. If the farmer glanced down, he would immediately see what had spooked his birds.

With a satisfied grunt, the farmer straightened up and continued his round. As his footsteps grew distant, Reno flashed a grin, holding up a thumb. Despite the mad hammering in his chest – or perhaps because of it – Rude found himself grinning back.

The stable door creaked open, then closed. Once the farmer's footsteps were beyond hearing range, Reno hopped up and dusted himself off nonchalantly.

"See? Told ya we got this. You worry too much, partner."

Rude just sighed, shaking his head as he pushed himself out of the straw.

"Right," Reno continued, planting his fists on his hips and aiming a scornful look at Blanco. "Let's get Birdbrain to the truck and get the hell outta here already."

Rude could not agree more.

The redhead looked down again, a slight frown appearing on his face as he cocked his head to the side.

"Bastard's been out cold for a while. Wonder how long that'll last?" he mumbled to himself, then shot Rude a grin. "Think we should cuff him?"

The bald man responded with a snort.

With the other Turk's aid, Rude recreated his earlier efforts with the rope. Within a few minutes, they were hauling the chocobo across the stable once more, sharing the burden this time. While Rude looked for something to brace the door open, Reno took the chance to stop by Daphne's stall, leaning over the door to peer in.

"Bye, Mama Bird. Sorry for ruinin' your night, yo."

The chocobo padded up to the door and lowered her head with a quiet wark, bringing it level with Reno's.

"Who's a pretty bird, huh?" he mumbled, stroking her beak.

Daphne cooed and gently bumped her head into his hand. He smiled.

"Yeah, that's right."

"Reno," Rude called.

The redhead sighed and nodded, patting her head one last time. "Gotta go, pretty bird. Keep yourself outta trouble, eh?"

As he closed the stable doors behind them, a single plaintive wark sounded inside.

While dragging a giant unconscious bird across a flat surface had been work enough, repeating the feat in uneven terrain proved exponentially worse. By the time they reached the truck, the back of Rude's shirt was soaked with sweat.

"Friggin' finally," Reno groaned, flexing his stiff fingers. "I think my arms are fallin' off."

Rude just grunted, too exhausted to form words.

"Let's get some more light before we try chuckin' Birdbrain in the back. Gimme the keys, will ya?"

Even Reno's seemingly boundless reserves of energy had run low, judging by the way he dragged his feet to the cab of the truck. Rude leaned back against the vehicle for a breather, closing his eyes. They were almost done now. Just one last push and they would be on their way home, their ridiculous mission a success after all.

The truck rumbled to life for a few seconds, signaling the end of his brief break. With a sigh, Rude pushed himself away from the vehicle and opened his eyes to look at the lumpy pile of white feathers.

The chocobo stared back. Two beady eyes glittered in the truck's rear lights, glowing red as if the creature was the infernal spawn of Ifrit himself.

Rude's mouth fell open. The animal kicked, catching him in the side and slamming him into the back the truck. He crumpled to the ground, gasping for air, while the bird struggled to its feet. Reno came running seconds later, only to be barreled down by the hell chocobo stampeding toward freedom.

"Ah, fuck!"

He heard a body hit the ground hard, followed by footsteps rapidly receding. Rude peered into the darkness, but the truck's lights left him blind to everything beyond their glare. He tried to move, but crippling pain flashed through his side. He grunted and went still, assessing his situation. The bird's kick had done a real number on his ribs. Rude was fairly certain he could get up, but it would hurt. A lot.

The kid was still quiet. That couldn't be a good sign. Rude had only received a half-hearted kick, but Reno had felt the full force of Blanco's avian wrath.

"Reno," Rude wheezed.

The night remained deathly quiet. After a minute, a few cicadas dared to continue their interrupted concert, but Rude heard not a peep from the other Turk.

"Reno!"

An outdrawn groan sounded from the darkness.

"Oh jeez... Fuckin' ow."

Rude let his eyes fall shut and released his breath.

"You okay?"

"Yeah... I think. 'Cept for blackin' out for a bit... Feels like I just got hit by a fuckin' express train... You?"

"Not really. Cracked ribs. Broken, maybe."

"Hang on. I got somethin' for that. Ah shit, where'd my mag rod go? Gotta get a strap for it or somethin'..."

Rude heard Reno shuffle around in the darkness, until the younger man voiced a triumphant "aha!" Soon after, he felt a tingling sensation envelop his body, growing warm as the redhead's healing magic focused on his injured side. The pain abated and his breaths began to flow easier.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, buddy."

He opened his eyes when he felt something brush against his arm, although he didn't need his vision to know who it was. The eye-watering whiff of ozone and chocobo manure was unmistakable. Reno had taken a seat next to him, slumped back against the truck. The younger Turk's suit was even dirtier now and torn in several places. The same could be said for the man himself, his pale skin marred by smudges and scrapes. Rude suspected his own appearance was no better.

Reno kept his eyes aimed forward in a weary daze. Unable to come up with any better alternatives, Rude followed his lead. Together, they stared at the moon, now so low in the sky that the hill below slightly eclipsed it.

"Grasslands, man," Reno said. "Fuckin' Grasslands."

Rude had nothing to add to that.

A breeze caressed his brow and rustled the longer grass. A wisp of a cloud passed across the moon.

"I'm thinkin'..." The redhead paused for a moment, pursing his lips. "I'm thinking we oughta tell Veld that when we got here, the bird was gone."

"Think he'll buy it?"

"Nah, 'course not, but it'll give him some bullshit to feed old man Shinra. Better than another docked paycheck, yo."

Rude grunted his agreement. Another minute or two passed in silence.

"Guess we should've cuffed him," he added.

Reno snorted.

"Was that a joke, Baldy?"

"Maybe," Rude deadpanned. "Scruffy."

That earned him a snicker.

"No nicknames, huh?"

"No."

"Eh, whatever. Cue Ball."

"Twig."

This time, Reno chortled until he ran out of air. Much to his surprise, Rude felt a smile tug at his own lips. The mission may have failed, his career may have just gone down the drain, and he may be facing several hours in a truck with a guy smeared in bird poo; yet right now, none of that seemed to matter much.

"Hey, Rude?"

He glanced at Reno, turning his head just enough to make it clear he was listening.

"Twenty gil says old man Shinra buys it if I tell him a dragon flew off with Birdbrain."

The almost-smile on Rude's face turned into a quiet laugh as he imagined the look on the President's face. Then he thought of a squawking, flailing Blanco, sailing through the air in the clutches of a dragon, and it was impossible to stifle the full-blown guffaw that followed. Soon, two sets of laughter rang out in the night, drowning out the cicadas.

In the distance, a dark shape crested the top of the hill, silhouetted against the full moon. It spread its wings and raised its head, stretching to its full, majestic height. The haunting echo of a single wark rolled across the plains, and then the creature disappeared, never to be seen again.