Author's Note; Hiya ppls, Kisara's back with yet another fic!! Anyway, this is a oneshot for the shexi Reno, about how he reacts as he walks through the rubble of the collapsed Sector 7...Reviews highly appreciated as this is my first real oneshot!!XxxxX
He listened intently to the screams of agony…of terror…of Sector 7. Two seconds it had taken to fall…he wished it had taken him even that long to consider pushing the detonator…but no; he hadn't thought about it, not once. The screams reached their heart-wrenching crescendo and whilst everyone else felt grief, sadness and loss, his heart felt nothing…it were as if it were made of the very same cold cement that was now collapsing upon the helpless people in the Slums.
Slums…he'd been born and raised in them…many a happy memory had been of stealing the local drug-dealer's stash from him and running away with Rude, down a back alley that they knew like the back of their hands; he'd been friends with that bald, silent man for as long as he could remember now…the President had initially wanted Rude to fulfil the order, but Tseng had insisted upon the redhead doing it, and Reno knew why…he'd done so many terrible things in his life, before even joining the Turks and much worse once he had been initiated into their ranks, that he'd now lost count and recollection of them all and the next was as un-influential as the last…nothing seemed to scathe that hardened exterior and really penetrate the harrowingly young Turk…if he had a conscience, then it was an expert at hiding and guarding itself…which is why the prodigiously fast assassin was almost always called upon to carry out the missions that the softer of the Turks would hesitate upon…either that or it would take a hell of a lot of counselling hours to fix them…Tseng had actually once speculated on how many councillors it would take to re-humanize Reno…but the number was unmentionable in the very least.
"Reno! I knew your mother; you've got to help us!"
An elderly woman ran to the young man who'd been born and grown up in the very same street as her own children…he'd been eighteen when those Turks had come for him; though she had to admit, it'd been expected…his mother had died of a going Slums-disease that had spread from street to street like the plague and the youth had become uncontrollable, striking himself up quite the reputation in the streets; Rude had only been taken aswell, as Reno had kicked up an almighty fuss about leaving his best friend…but the bald man had turned out to be the exact person to counteract the hyperactivity of his comrade. As she tugged at his arm, Reno sharply pulled himself from her frail grip. The woman looked accusingly at him.
"You're a Slums aswell…why are you letting them do this?"
"I ain't no Slums kid no more, I work for Shinra, yo!"
He then walked away from this shadow of his past and towards where the dust was now settling from the epicentre of the collapsing fragment of the upper-city… bodies littered the ground here and there…some he knew, other's rang faint bells within his street-wise memory…either way, he wasn't one of them anymore…no, too much had he done to be considered a Slums-goer anymore…too much had he witnessed…
The youth crouched down at the head of a male who had perished in the collapse and rooted unceremoniously in the man's pockets, locating a near-empty packet of Silk Cut and a lighter with some gas left within it. He then straightened, kicking the man aside and lit-up, taking a drag out of the cigarette as he progressed through the lifeless fruits of his fulfilled orders, picking his way through pale corpse after pale corpse, taking faint note of every face, most of which he knew from his stolen childhood amongst them.
As he lit-up the second of his cigarettes and placed the third, and last, behind his ear, idly throwing away the now-empty packet, Reno cursed under his breath as he noticed he'd stepped in somebody's blood; that liquid was a particular bastard to get out of his uniform…Tseng had roared at him last time, when he hadn't even bothered to wash it; the kid didn't know how to use a washing machine…Elena had since shown him, though he was still the worst of the Turks for the blood-spatter…no matter how hard you tried, the bullet always caused the spatter to hiss back at you, like some kind of spitting Cobra enraged at an adversary.
He continued to walk slowly on, but stopped dead upon seeing a face that was way too overly familiar. As he stared down… the cigarette fell from its perch behind his ear as the cerulean-eyed youth continued to look downward…not willing to believe what he already truly knew. He crouched and rolled the body gently over; recoiling in what he only presumed was horror, as he'd never felt that emotion before…
"N…no…"
His glowing gaze remained deadlocked on the nineteen-year-old and her baby son…he'd only heard a few rumours flying around…but Reno had never attempted to look for her, or find out what part of the Slums she was now living in…and now, as he stared down at his little sister's body, arms still wrapped protectively around her infant son, his nephew, a single tear made a track down his tanned cheek for the first time ever in his life.
Though his conscience disallowed him to feel remorse…if one listened closely in Midgar that faithful day, they could hear the sharp, stabbing sound of the revered Turk's heart breaking in two.
a/n- Did u like dis fic? I usually give the option of a continuation, but not in this one; what you just read is the completed fic, thnks for reading and plees let me know waht you think!! XxxxX