Rated T for swearing and... uh, morbid humor, I guess.

Stiff Surprise

Reno's Sunday began with a killer hangover. Groaning, he stumbled into the shower like a clumsy stinger bug. His exit a few minutes later was equally graceless, though free of the smell of stale booze. Back in his bedroom, he opened the closet door. He paused, and stared.

A pair of lifeless eyes stared back at him.

He blinked. The body did not.

Reno slid the door shut and shuffled into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, fortified with a mug of coffee, Reno slid the closet door open again. The body was still there. A man in his mid-forties, with mud-brown hair and a dull gray suit. Stuffed into a middle shelf, one arm dangling over the side.

Reno slurped a mouthful of coffee. Rolled it around on his tongue, swallowed it.

"Well, shit."

His PHS was on the bedside table. He picked a much-used number and gulped his coffee as he waited. After the sixth ring, the call connected.

"Yo, Rude!"

The man on the other end grumbled something unintelligible.

"Yeah, good morning to you too. Look, about last night... Did you bring me home?"

Rude grunted.

"Cool, man, thanks for that. I was just wondering, though... Did anything weird happen?"

"...Weird?"

"Did things get a bit... wild, maybe?"

Three seconds passed in silence. Then, a sigh.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Reno side-eyed at the corpse in his closet. "At least I don't think... Hey, uh, just how drunk was I?"

Rude responded with a drawn-out groan.

"Yeah, yeah. Look, can you just get over here? I've got a bit of a... situation."

"You owe me."

"Thanks, buddy. You're the best."

Two Turks stood side by side and stared into the closet.

"So that's why you're not wearing any pants," said Rude.

"Well, duh. Can't get at 'em when there's a dead guy in the way." Reno, dressed in a towel, was nursing his third cup of coffee. None of them had improved his pounding headache.

Rude's bald head didn't move as he examined the body. "Decent suit. Cheap shoes. Boring haircut." He paused, assessing his observations. "Not your usual type."

"Oh, har har. Got anythin' useful to say?"

Rude took a step forward and poked the guy's hanging arm with a gloved finger.

"Not too stiff. Died last night, probably."

"Was he here last night? When you dragged my drunk ass home?"

"Didn't look."

Rude stepped back into their two-man line. Reno poured the last of his coffee down his throat.

"So... Whaddya think we should do?"

Rude was silent a moment.

"Call Cissnei."

Three Turks stood in a line and stared into the closet. The corpse was still staring back with milky eyes.

"Tseng will be pissed," Cissnei said.

"Yeah, thanks for your input, Ciss," said Reno, rubbing his eyes. "Real helpful."

She studied the dead guy, sipping from the lidded cardboard cup she'd brought.

"Looks like a middle manager. Do you know who he is?"

"Not a clue. Never seen him before."

"Well, there's your step one," she said. "Get a name."

Reno frowned. "How?"

"You don't know how to I.D. a corpse? You've been a Turk for how many years again?"

His frown shifted into a grumpy glance at her.

"There's more than one kinda Turk, y'know. I'm the kind that gets the names before I turn 'em into corpses."

"Okay, whatever," she sighed. "Check his pockets. See if he's got a wallet or something." She pulled out her PHS and held it up with one hand. "I'll send a pic of the guy to intel."

"No!" Reno pushed down her wrist. "You send that pic to HQ and Tseng's gonna be all over my ass in no time!"

"Kinky," she said, a tiny smile on her lips as she gazed into the distance.

"Ifrit's ass, Ciss, there's a stiff in the room. Stay focused, will ya?"

"'Stiff', you say?"

"Goddammit, Ciss," Reno groaned. "You're stealing all my lines, too!"

While the others bickered, Rude stepped up to the corpse with a long-suffering sigh and began rifling through the pockets he could reach.

"Nothing," he announced once he was done.

"Any sign of what killed him?" Cissnei asked.

Rude shrugged.

"C'mon, let's haul this asshole out of my fuckin' closet," Reno said, coming up beside him. "I wanna put some pants on already."

Five minutes later the body was laid out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. The dangling arm was pointing straight up; Rude was trying to shove it down.

"No blood," Cissnei said half to herself, tapping her cardboard cup against her chin. "No bruises, no visible wounds, no signs of a struggle..."

"Plenty of ways to kill a guy all quiet-like," Reno piped up, hopping on one leg as he tried to shove the other into a pair of trousers. "A pillow to the face, the right kinda poison or materia..."

"Meaning we've got nothing to go on." She turned her head toward Reno, who was yanking a white shirt off a hanger. "Are you sure you don't want intel on this? They can check fingerprints, dental records..."

"And what if they find I'm the one who offed this guy?" he asked, pulling on the shirt. "Tseng's gonna dock my pay for sure!"

"Don't you think you'd remember something like that?"

"Hell, I can't remember Rude draggin' me home last night." He paused and narrowed his eyes at the bald man kneeling next to the body. "Come to think of it... Maybe he's the one who did it and is tryin' to pin it on me."

Without looking up from his task, Rude raised a gloved hand and flipped Reno off.

"So what do you want to do?" Cissnei asked.

"How the hell should I know?" Reno pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "I'm too fuckin' hungover for this shit."

She sipped her coffee as she appraised the corpse once more.

"Maybe you could move out. Like, today. If anyone asks, you just say he wasn't here when you moved out."

He dropped his hands and gave her a sour look. "Why the hell did I call you again?"

"Beats me," she said breezily. "Perhaps you were in need of my sweet, comforting demeanor?"

"My idea," Rude cut in, rising to his feet. "Sorry."

She shrugged. "Buy me a drink some time and I'll forgive you."

"Look, guys," Reno said, pointing at the corpse, "I just want this asshole outta here. Only a matter of time before he starts stinkin' up the place, and I'm in enough trouble with Mrs. Leoni as it is."

"Mrs. Leoni...?"

"My landlady," he explained glumly. "Worse than Tseng if you piss her off."

"Frame her," Rude suggested.

Reno tilted his head to the side, thinking it over, but soon shook his head.

"Nah, man. If she gets locked up, I might get kicked out."

"Better than you getting locked up, though," Cissnei pointed out.

"Yeah, but... the old lady next door gives me cookies on Sundays."

She and Rude traded a look and near-imperceptible sighs.

"Nice cookies?" she asked.

"Fuck yes." Reno licked his smiling lips, gazing up into nothing. "Double chocolate chip, always sorta gooey in the middle. Makes 'em herself."

"Well. Can't risk that, can we?"

"Exactly," he said, ignoring her sardonic tone. "We gotta figure out how get this guy outta here before she knocks on my door, yo."

"Want the body out?" Rude asked. "Then take it out."

"How?"

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Front door's right there."

"I can't just cart a body down the elevator," Reno protested. "My landlady would kill me!"

Rude and Cissnei exchanged a look. Then, as one, they turned toward the bedroom window.

"Huh," said Reno.

Two Turks were sliding across the floor toward a window, clutching a rope in their hands. The third one stood on the ground below, watching a rolled-up rug lurch down toward her at alarming speed.

"Slow down, guys!" Cissnei yelled up to the third floor.

"We're fuckin' trying!" Reno hollered back. "Shit, this guy is heavy!"

Rude responded with a pained grunt, since Reno's booted heel had just slammed down on his toes.

"Shit, we're losin' him!" Reno frantically tried to reel in the rope. "Don't let go, man! Don't let–"

His elbow struck Rude in the solar plexus; with a wheeze the man dropped to his knees, and Reno found himself dragged across the floor at thrice the speed.

"Oh shiiiiii –"

He smacked into the wall and vaulted over the windowsill. He plunged headfirst toward the pavement, flailing and screaming – which turned into a gurgle of surprise as his foot caught on something and jolted him to a stop. A million stars exploded inside his skull.

"Oww," he wailed, clutching his hungover head. "I think Titan just punched me in the brain!"

"Better than a punch in the face from the pavement."

Rude's growl made Reno look down his body – or up, rather – to discover that his foot hadn't caught on anything, exactly. His partner held his ankle in an iron grip, his face turning a vibrant shade of red as he hung halfway out of the window.

"Whoa," Reno said. "This time, really don't let go."

A second-floor window slammed open and made them both flinch. Reno yelped and twisted his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the perpetrator. A shriveled-up man with white hair was gaping up at them.

"The hell do you boys think you're doing?"

"The hell do you think you're doin'?" Reno yelled back. "Are you tryin' to fuckin' kill me?!"

The little old man was quickly turning red in the face, too.

"You two had better get inside right now," he croaked, stabbing the air with a crooked index finger, "or I'm calling the cops!"

"The fuck do you think I'm tryin' to do here, huh? How about you help out instead of bein' a fuckin' dick about it!"

The geezer glared up at them, his lips pressed into an angry line.

"Mrs. Leoni will hear about this!"

The window banged shut.

Reno let his arms go limp, dangling by his ears. "Fuuuck," he whined.

Two Turks stood on either side of a rolled-up rug, peering into the end that wasn't tied to a rope. Cissnei reached in and poked at the top of the brown-haired head they saw inside. It lolled back with a quiet crunch.

"I think you guys broke his neck."

"Don't think he minds," Rude rumbled.

"Who cares!" Reno raced past them and threw himself into the driver's seat. "C'mon, we gotta haul ass before that shithead downstairs calls the cops!"

"We're Turks," Cissnei said, raising her arms. "What can the cops do to us?"

"It ain't the cops I'm worried about. It's Mrs. Leoni hearin' that someone called the cops to one of her apartments. Now stuff the stiff into the trunk and let's move!"

"He's rolled into a big rug. He's never going to fit in your trunk like this."

Reno let his head smack down against the steering wheel. "Fuuuuuck," he whined.

Three Turks sat squeezed into a nondescript four-door car, on either side of a rolled-up rug. The head end of the corpse cigar was propped against the seat next to Cissnei in the back. The end with the feet protruded between the two front seats and into Rude's lap.

"Now what?" she asked, craning her neck to peer at Reno over the body between them.

"Well, I sure ain't gonna get caught with a stiff in my car again," he grumbled, "and I'm sick of this dead asshole messing up my weekend. I say we get rid of the fucker and forget all about it."

"Your corpse, your call."

They looked at Rude, who shrugged.

"Guess we're agreed," Cissnei said. "How should we do this?"

"Dump him in the slums?" Rude asked.

Reno gave it some thought.

"Nah, too risky. The guy looks like a topsider, and a dead topsider down below might be enough for someone to start askin' the wrong kinda questions."

"Badlands?" Cissnei suggested.

The three of them sized up the corpse bundle.

"Badlands," Reno said, nodding.

One Turk rooted around the trunk of a car, while two others struggled to pull a long, rolled-up carpet sausage out of it. Once the pair succeeded, they unceremoniously dumped the whole thing on the blackened ground.

"Phew." Reno waved a hand in front of his face as he came up to his fellow Turks. "Gettin' a bit ripe, ain't he?"

"Then let's be quick about it," Cissnei said, wrinkling her nose. "I don't want my clothes to stink of dead guy all the way back to Midgar."

"Afraid you're shit outta luck there, Ciss." He held up a tiny, folded camp shovel. Its rusty hinge screeched in protest as he twisted it open. "This is all we've got. Guess we gotta take turns."

She looked at the shovel, then leveled her unimpressed stare at Reno. Rude shook his head.

"Your corpse. You dig."

Reno looked from him to Cissnei and back again. "Are you kidding me? C'mon, guys, don't make me pull rank here."

"We'll help, of course," she added breezily. "We'll keep watch, to make sure nothing disturbs you. And..." She smiled sweetly. "We'll even make sure Mrs. Leoni never hears a peep about any of this. I mean, it would be a shame if someone told her all about her tenant's sordid activities in extensive detail... wouldn't it?"

"Seriously?" Reno glowered at each of them in turn. "You're pulling this on me?"

Cissnei smiled wider. Rude crossed his arms over his chest.

"Your corpse," he repeated. "Your problem."

"Thanks a million, guys," Reno muttered, stomping a bit farther into the dusty wasteland, puny shovel in hand. "Fuckin' knew I could count on ya."

"Think of the cookies!" she called after him.

One weary Turk dragged himself up the stairs to his apartment door. The other two he had dropped off on the way back into Midgar.

Once safe and sound inside his apartment, he pushed a filthy hand through his hair, damp with sweat. His other hand still held the pathetic shovel, he realized. With a grunt of disgust, he let it clatter to the floor.

A door swung open in a flood of blinding light. Reno leapt two feet in the air, yelping in surprise. His hand was already on his mag rod when he heard a familiar voice.

"Good evening, Reno."

"Tseng? What the–" He squinted at the dark outline of his boss in the doorway to the kitchen. "What are ya doin' in my place?"

"Waiting for you."

"Wha–"

Tseng stepped back into the kitchen, beckoning for him to follow. Reno was still frowning, but he knew better than to keep his boss waiting.

"An old lady came by earlier," Tseng informed Reno as he shuffled in on tired feet. "She brought cookies."

"Finally," he sighed, "something goes right with this turd of a day." He looked around his kitchen. "Where are they?"

"I ate them."

Reno's mouth fell open as he stared at his boss. "You... ate my cookies?"

"Yes."

"You ate... my cookies?"

Not a single muscle twitched on Tseng's impassive face as he folded his arms over his chest.

"You kept me waiting."

"I didn't know you were here!"

"I tried calling. You didn't answer."

Defeated, Reno slumped down in the nearest chair.

"No reception in the badlands," he muttered glumly.

Tseng arched an eyebrow.

"The badlands? Why were you in the–" With a deep sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please don't tell me you were burying a body."

"Uh..." Reno grinned, scratching the back of his head. "You know, it's funny you should say that."

"You find a dead body in your apartment and your first instinct is to hide it?"

"Well I didn't know why he was here, did I?"

This time, Tseng dropped his whole face into his palm. His silence gave Reno the chance to go over their conversation. Slowly, a frown spread across his face.

"Hang on. You knew about that guy?"

"Of course I did," Tseng said, somewhat muffled by his hand. "I put him there."

"You stuffed a corpse into my closet?"

He straightened and lowered his hands, clasping them together behind his back.

"Again, I tried calling first," he said calmly, back in boss mode. "You didn't pick up."

"It was my night off! I didn't even hear the damn thing, because I was busy getting shitfaced!"

"Nevertheless, it was an emergency. The man had swallowed mastered materia he was smuggling in from Costa del Sol. Not the brightest idea, considering one of them was a Poison."

Despite himself, Reno snorted. "The dumb bastard poisoned himself?"

"Yes, and I had to move fast to find his partner, who had pulled the same stunt. Can't interrogate dead men, after all."

Reno's frown deepened.

"Hang on. You're sayin' that the guy we just buried... has a gut full of illegal big-ticket materia?"

"Yes." Tseng leaned in close and fixed him with a stern stare. "So you'd better have him excavated and back in Midgar before nightfall, or the cost of every single one of those materia is coming out of your paycheck."

Reno threw his head back and groaned, picked up his shovel and dragged himself out the door.