The Last of an Elite
Chapter One: Replacements.
By InterfaceLeader
-~-~-~-
Tseng cleared his desk of the remaining paperwork as he usually did. To the casual observer he appeared normal, calm and collected. His dark blue suit was tidy and his long black hair hung in its customary downward sweep. Everything about him was neat and precise – no casual observer would have noticed anything strange.
An observer who was more familiar with the man might have noticed the sudden jerk in his shoulders as he stood upright, might have noticed the whitening around the knuckles as his hand opened the desk drawer. Might even, if they were a perceptive observer, have noticed the haunted, empty look in the dark eyes.
It had not been a normal day.
-~-~-~-
Beans, hundreds of cans of cheap beans. Reno glowered at them. Hundreds of cans in boxes. Hundreds of cans that need to be tagged and shelved.
1 I really hate my job.
2
3 The main problem with his job, as he had decided many times before, was not the boredom, nor the total lack of contact with ladies, nor even the overbearing military-gone-to-seed boss. It was the fact he was working all day with food he would never eat. His stomach, although long inured to near starvation rations, protested at the sight.
4
5 He worked at the Sector Three "indoor food market". The establishment was smaller than it's name suggested, being three small shops in one building. It was also a con, since the same person owned all three shops. Reno was the only employee, aside from the people who did the actual selling. This meant he got all the menial tasks from three separate shops, for the wage of working at one.
The reason he worked there was the same reason he lived on starvation rations. His family was dependent on him as the only source of income. And he wouldn't let his younger siblings develop the same swollen stomachs, stick-like limbs, and hollow eyes of the other kids he saw roaming the streets of the slums.
Some day.... Some day I'll get out of here. When they're old enough to take care of themselves. Then I'll make up for it all. I'll tell that ass-wipe of a boss exactly what I think of him. And I'll travel the world, try out all the different alcoholic specialities... meet up with a few exotic babes. Yeah...
-~-~-~-
Tseng was rigid, his body paralysed, behind closed lids his eyes rolled, testimony to the nightmare that raised its ugly head for the first time that night. It would return, time and time again. A Turk's life is not conductive to pleasant dreams, and Tseng has just experienced his baptism of fire.
It had been a standard mission, a few well-meaning people had gone one step too far and brought themselves to the attention of Shin-Ra. The Turks had been told to eliminate them. To kill them as Drekanov, the leader, always emphasised. Don't dress it up as anything pretty.
The "well-meaning" people turned out to be anything but and the introduction of hostages had complicated matters. Not just any hostages but children. Drekanov's orders had been clear, kill them all, regardless of who gets in the way. A Turk did not disobey an order. Rather than subject his men to the ordeal he had simply done it himself.
Tseng head arched back, sweat rolling down his back, soaking the sheets. There is as much guilt produced in watching as in pulling the trigger.
At the end of the massacre Drekanov had shot himself. Tseng could see the blood staining the walls, the slumped body of the man he had called "sir". With his death Tseng had automatically gained the highest rank. He had ordered the two Shin-Ra guards who had come along to clean up the mess and then returned to the HQ and shut himself up in his office. No one had seen the normally stoic man reduced to tears. By the time he emerged he appeared as he normally did.
He heard then that the other Turk who had gone along had also committed suicide.
He would dream of the day for the rest of his life.
-~-~-~-
President Shinra stood looking out upon the city he had shaped. His favourite opera music was playing, and Hojo felt the customary pain in his temples start throbbing again. Hojo despised opera music.
"Can it be done?"
"Certainly it can be done" snapped Hojo. Did this man think he was an imbecile? "It is simple, a few days will be all that is needed."
"And the man will be....."
"Guiltless. A perfect assassin. He will retain his full intelligence, and the ordinary loyalty program will ensure he does not turn on us. But he will lose his moral centre, he will have the ability to commit acts that may be considered monstrous, without a single pang of regret."
"We can't afford another scene like today. A few brats get involved and two thirds of my "elite" are suddenly dead! By their own hands!" President Shinra turned from the window and glared across at Hojo.
"Indeed"
-~-~-~-
Rude fingered the blue suit with some discomfort. To be promoted from Soldier to Turk was an honour to say the least, but why did the suits have to be so itchy?
With some trepidation he put on the sunglasses that had been included with the suit. To his surprise they felt near weightless. He could almost forget he had them on...
He then looked down at the sheet of paper that had been handed to him by Tseng. Your first mission, the man had said, don't mess it up.
He wondered if he was supposed to eat the paper now he'd read it. The training he had received had been extremely brief, he assumed it was because of the sudden deaths of two of the previous Turks. Better safe than sorry he thought, and ripped off a bit of the paper and started chewing. It didn't taste of much.
-~-~-~-
Reno hit the bar before going home. He couldn't spend any money in there, but this particular bar owner still let him have a tab. Most of the other bars had figured him out by now, and refused to sell him anything except for hard cash, up front. Life was tough like that. Reno chuckled to himself as he espied the wallet sticking oh-so-temptingly out of one of the other patrons pockets. It was the work of a moment to hook it out. Life was certainly tough for some.
"Hiya Tifa babes!"
The attractive woman looked up from where she was scrubbing the bar top, and smiled automatically at the redhead currently lounging on one of the stools.
"Hi Reno. Get you something?"
"Usual." Reno looked round the bar working out if anyone else in there could be used in the never ending quest for Gil. The big black man who seemed to act as Tifa's bouncer was stood near the pinball machine, glaring at anyone who came close.
"He's scaring away the custom ya know"
She shrugged "It's broken anyway"
Reno perked up "Really? Maybe I could fix it for ya? I charge less than the call out guys. And for a babe like you...." He gave her a wink.
She smiled again. "Thanks for the offer, but it's not worth it. No one used it.... I might have it taken out one of these days."
"I also operate a take out service. I remove unwanted junk, clear up the mess, and carry it down the dump, all for a low low price."
Tifa shook her head. "Really, you're obsessed with that machine."
"Not the machine. Just with getting some cash." Reno sighed. Didn't look like the woman was going to part with any.
"Times are hard huh?"
"Like always." He stared into the drink, for a moment the depression stealing up on him.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Tifa spoke past him, and Reno swivelled to see who had just entered. It turned out to be a tall guy, in a blue suit. Wearing sunglasses. Talk about intimidating, this guy was the living definition of the word. Reno eyed the suit, he was from up top, definitely. And that meant money. Reno waved to the empty stool on his left.
-~-~-~-
Rude sank down on to the barstool next to the redhead. He looked at Tifa, but the sunglasses hid the light that came in to his eyes. She made him a drink and moved on, two noisier guys from a table calling her away.
Rude carefully re-ran his mission through his head. He was to find someone who was fast, strong, agile, but more importantly had an innate flair for social contact. The reason why hadn't been declared, but Rude suspected it was to take up the third Turk post. The group needed a spy, someone who gained trust easily. Rude had to admit he couldn't take on that role very easily.
"So where're you from?" A sharp elbow in the side brought him back to reality.
".....Me?"
"Who do you think I'm talking to? My invisible friend?"
"............"
"Yeah, yeah, that was bad sarcasm." The guy laughed "I'm the king of bad sarcasm you know. So where're you from? Wall market?"
"No."
"No? Nice suit like that, I figured you had to be one of those enterprising types. So which sector?"
".........." Rude wondered what to say. Claiming he lived up top was as good as admitting he was connected to Shin-Ra, and he doubted that would be a wise move. Maybe he should have come up with a cover story first.
"Well?" Reno tapped his foot against the leg of the stool impatiently.
"Sector..... Three."
"Mmm huh. And what d'ya do there?"
"I.... work..... in.... a shop."
"Riiiiiiiiiight. Which shop?"
"........" Rude thought hastily. A shop in Sector Three, a shop in Sector Three. "The Food Market place...."
Reno tipped his glass up as he considered how he could turn the guys lies to his advantage. His curiosity had been thoroughly aroused now. Whatever the guy was doing here it wasn't legit.
Rude cast around for a topic of conversation. He really hated this.
".... You?"
"Where do I work? Well, I'm currently between jobs you might say." Reno winked at the bemused looking man. "And looking for new employment opportunities. Anything you might have heard of on the grape vine?"
Rude turned and studied the man more closely. He was of average height, which meant the top of his head reached Rude's shoulder. His fingers curled round the shot glass he held, slender for a guy. His wrist was partly bent and thin, Rude could have put his thumb and forefinger round it. A loose T- shirt, off white and several sizes too big only emphasised his skinny frame. His face was narrow, and high cheek bones created odd shadows in the yellowish light of the bar. His eyes, an oddly beautiful green-blue, were focused on Rude, and appeared too large for his thin face. A shock of bright red hair, in serious need of a hairbrush, extended part way down his back and was held in place by a frayed elastic band. He looked about 17, and Rude realised with a sudden flicker of compassion that he was starving.
Rude turned and waved Tifa back over. "Do you serve food here?"
"Yep" she replied easily "What can I get you?"
Rude turned to the redhead "What do you want?"
Reno looked at him blankly "Huh?"
"I don't like eating alone" Rude lied
"................. well, uh, just a sandwich or something...... thanks"
"Two sandwiches." Rude said to Tifa.
Reno looked at the man with confusion. What did he want? There's no such thing as a free lunch... pretty much the motto of the slums. And here he was, giving out just that. There's a catch. There's always a catch.
"What's your name buddy?"
"Rude."
"Rude huh? Nice. I'm Reno."
-~-~-~-
A/N: So what did you think? This is my first attempt at a chaptered story, and I'll be analysing people's impressions carefully ^_^ Next chapter will be up soon, all going well.
6
7
Chapter One: Replacements.
By InterfaceLeader
-~-~-~-
Tseng cleared his desk of the remaining paperwork as he usually did. To the casual observer he appeared normal, calm and collected. His dark blue suit was tidy and his long black hair hung in its customary downward sweep. Everything about him was neat and precise – no casual observer would have noticed anything strange.
An observer who was more familiar with the man might have noticed the sudden jerk in his shoulders as he stood upright, might have noticed the whitening around the knuckles as his hand opened the desk drawer. Might even, if they were a perceptive observer, have noticed the haunted, empty look in the dark eyes.
It had not been a normal day.
-~-~-~-
Beans, hundreds of cans of cheap beans. Reno glowered at them. Hundreds of cans in boxes. Hundreds of cans that need to be tagged and shelved.
1 I really hate my job.
2
3 The main problem with his job, as he had decided many times before, was not the boredom, nor the total lack of contact with ladies, nor even the overbearing military-gone-to-seed boss. It was the fact he was working all day with food he would never eat. His stomach, although long inured to near starvation rations, protested at the sight.
4
5 He worked at the Sector Three "indoor food market". The establishment was smaller than it's name suggested, being three small shops in one building. It was also a con, since the same person owned all three shops. Reno was the only employee, aside from the people who did the actual selling. This meant he got all the menial tasks from three separate shops, for the wage of working at one.
The reason he worked there was the same reason he lived on starvation rations. His family was dependent on him as the only source of income. And he wouldn't let his younger siblings develop the same swollen stomachs, stick-like limbs, and hollow eyes of the other kids he saw roaming the streets of the slums.
Some day.... Some day I'll get out of here. When they're old enough to take care of themselves. Then I'll make up for it all. I'll tell that ass-wipe of a boss exactly what I think of him. And I'll travel the world, try out all the different alcoholic specialities... meet up with a few exotic babes. Yeah...
-~-~-~-
Tseng was rigid, his body paralysed, behind closed lids his eyes rolled, testimony to the nightmare that raised its ugly head for the first time that night. It would return, time and time again. A Turk's life is not conductive to pleasant dreams, and Tseng has just experienced his baptism of fire.
It had been a standard mission, a few well-meaning people had gone one step too far and brought themselves to the attention of Shin-Ra. The Turks had been told to eliminate them. To kill them as Drekanov, the leader, always emphasised. Don't dress it up as anything pretty.
The "well-meaning" people turned out to be anything but and the introduction of hostages had complicated matters. Not just any hostages but children. Drekanov's orders had been clear, kill them all, regardless of who gets in the way. A Turk did not disobey an order. Rather than subject his men to the ordeal he had simply done it himself.
Tseng head arched back, sweat rolling down his back, soaking the sheets. There is as much guilt produced in watching as in pulling the trigger.
At the end of the massacre Drekanov had shot himself. Tseng could see the blood staining the walls, the slumped body of the man he had called "sir". With his death Tseng had automatically gained the highest rank. He had ordered the two Shin-Ra guards who had come along to clean up the mess and then returned to the HQ and shut himself up in his office. No one had seen the normally stoic man reduced to tears. By the time he emerged he appeared as he normally did.
He heard then that the other Turk who had gone along had also committed suicide.
He would dream of the day for the rest of his life.
-~-~-~-
President Shinra stood looking out upon the city he had shaped. His favourite opera music was playing, and Hojo felt the customary pain in his temples start throbbing again. Hojo despised opera music.
"Can it be done?"
"Certainly it can be done" snapped Hojo. Did this man think he was an imbecile? "It is simple, a few days will be all that is needed."
"And the man will be....."
"Guiltless. A perfect assassin. He will retain his full intelligence, and the ordinary loyalty program will ensure he does not turn on us. But he will lose his moral centre, he will have the ability to commit acts that may be considered monstrous, without a single pang of regret."
"We can't afford another scene like today. A few brats get involved and two thirds of my "elite" are suddenly dead! By their own hands!" President Shinra turned from the window and glared across at Hojo.
"Indeed"
-~-~-~-
Rude fingered the blue suit with some discomfort. To be promoted from Soldier to Turk was an honour to say the least, but why did the suits have to be so itchy?
With some trepidation he put on the sunglasses that had been included with the suit. To his surprise they felt near weightless. He could almost forget he had them on...
He then looked down at the sheet of paper that had been handed to him by Tseng. Your first mission, the man had said, don't mess it up.
He wondered if he was supposed to eat the paper now he'd read it. The training he had received had been extremely brief, he assumed it was because of the sudden deaths of two of the previous Turks. Better safe than sorry he thought, and ripped off a bit of the paper and started chewing. It didn't taste of much.
-~-~-~-
Reno hit the bar before going home. He couldn't spend any money in there, but this particular bar owner still let him have a tab. Most of the other bars had figured him out by now, and refused to sell him anything except for hard cash, up front. Life was tough like that. Reno chuckled to himself as he espied the wallet sticking oh-so-temptingly out of one of the other patrons pockets. It was the work of a moment to hook it out. Life was certainly tough for some.
"Hiya Tifa babes!"
The attractive woman looked up from where she was scrubbing the bar top, and smiled automatically at the redhead currently lounging on one of the stools.
"Hi Reno. Get you something?"
"Usual." Reno looked round the bar working out if anyone else in there could be used in the never ending quest for Gil. The big black man who seemed to act as Tifa's bouncer was stood near the pinball machine, glaring at anyone who came close.
"He's scaring away the custom ya know"
She shrugged "It's broken anyway"
Reno perked up "Really? Maybe I could fix it for ya? I charge less than the call out guys. And for a babe like you...." He gave her a wink.
She smiled again. "Thanks for the offer, but it's not worth it. No one used it.... I might have it taken out one of these days."
"I also operate a take out service. I remove unwanted junk, clear up the mess, and carry it down the dump, all for a low low price."
Tifa shook her head. "Really, you're obsessed with that machine."
"Not the machine. Just with getting some cash." Reno sighed. Didn't look like the woman was going to part with any.
"Times are hard huh?"
"Like always." He stared into the drink, for a moment the depression stealing up on him.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Tifa spoke past him, and Reno swivelled to see who had just entered. It turned out to be a tall guy, in a blue suit. Wearing sunglasses. Talk about intimidating, this guy was the living definition of the word. Reno eyed the suit, he was from up top, definitely. And that meant money. Reno waved to the empty stool on his left.
-~-~-~-
Rude sank down on to the barstool next to the redhead. He looked at Tifa, but the sunglasses hid the light that came in to his eyes. She made him a drink and moved on, two noisier guys from a table calling her away.
Rude carefully re-ran his mission through his head. He was to find someone who was fast, strong, agile, but more importantly had an innate flair for social contact. The reason why hadn't been declared, but Rude suspected it was to take up the third Turk post. The group needed a spy, someone who gained trust easily. Rude had to admit he couldn't take on that role very easily.
"So where're you from?" A sharp elbow in the side brought him back to reality.
".....Me?"
"Who do you think I'm talking to? My invisible friend?"
"............"
"Yeah, yeah, that was bad sarcasm." The guy laughed "I'm the king of bad sarcasm you know. So where're you from? Wall market?"
"No."
"No? Nice suit like that, I figured you had to be one of those enterprising types. So which sector?"
".........." Rude wondered what to say. Claiming he lived up top was as good as admitting he was connected to Shin-Ra, and he doubted that would be a wise move. Maybe he should have come up with a cover story first.
"Well?" Reno tapped his foot against the leg of the stool impatiently.
"Sector..... Three."
"Mmm huh. And what d'ya do there?"
"I.... work..... in.... a shop."
"Riiiiiiiiiight. Which shop?"
"........" Rude thought hastily. A shop in Sector Three, a shop in Sector Three. "The Food Market place...."
Reno tipped his glass up as he considered how he could turn the guys lies to his advantage. His curiosity had been thoroughly aroused now. Whatever the guy was doing here it wasn't legit.
Rude cast around for a topic of conversation. He really hated this.
".... You?"
"Where do I work? Well, I'm currently between jobs you might say." Reno winked at the bemused looking man. "And looking for new employment opportunities. Anything you might have heard of on the grape vine?"
Rude turned and studied the man more closely. He was of average height, which meant the top of his head reached Rude's shoulder. His fingers curled round the shot glass he held, slender for a guy. His wrist was partly bent and thin, Rude could have put his thumb and forefinger round it. A loose T- shirt, off white and several sizes too big only emphasised his skinny frame. His face was narrow, and high cheek bones created odd shadows in the yellowish light of the bar. His eyes, an oddly beautiful green-blue, were focused on Rude, and appeared too large for his thin face. A shock of bright red hair, in serious need of a hairbrush, extended part way down his back and was held in place by a frayed elastic band. He looked about 17, and Rude realised with a sudden flicker of compassion that he was starving.
Rude turned and waved Tifa back over. "Do you serve food here?"
"Yep" she replied easily "What can I get you?"
Rude turned to the redhead "What do you want?"
Reno looked at him blankly "Huh?"
"I don't like eating alone" Rude lied
"................. well, uh, just a sandwich or something...... thanks"
"Two sandwiches." Rude said to Tifa.
Reno looked at the man with confusion. What did he want? There's no such thing as a free lunch... pretty much the motto of the slums. And here he was, giving out just that. There's a catch. There's always a catch.
"What's your name buddy?"
"Rude."
"Rude huh? Nice. I'm Reno."
-~-~-~-
A/N: So what did you think? This is my first attempt at a chaptered story, and I'll be analysing people's impressions carefully ^_^ Next chapter will be up soon, all going well.
6
7