Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Final Fantasy VII or anything related to it.

Author's Note: I'll be honest - I never thought I'd do a Final Fantasy multi-chap, and yet here I am, with what I consider one of my favourite works with one of my favourite characters. Please note that I have focused heavily on the cynical side of Reno, as we saw in the western release of Final Fantasy VII. This is sort of AU, set two years after the initial game, but with a different end. Enjoy!

LIBRA

prologue.

Everything was different nowadays, but it continued to be a reflection of the past.

People did not fear Shinra. They did not hide under the plates and wonder when it was their time. They did not shut the blinds and try to hold onto the last of their money, the last of their power. They did not turn a blind eye to the crimes against the Planet, because they never existed – or so they were fed to believe.

'The company cares for all citizens,' the mantra drilled into the hopeless' heads.

'You take no one alive and protect the company's interests,' the mantra forced upon their slaves.

Instead, people feared him. The one that did not lie like Shinra did – no, Sephiroth had learnt well that fear was the way to control the masses. That fear would get him where he wanted to go. That fear would remind the people that he's the greatest SOLDIER to have existed, and that he would sail terrorise the planet until he could use it as his vessel.

The last of the world's order crumbled away beneath a black wing.

Cloud and his friends succeeded in preventing meteor, but failed in taking down Sephiroth. Most of AVALANCHE fell afterward. Sephiroth used this as a testament to his power, a reminder to the people that if they dared tried to hope, even for one second, he would know, and he would end it. That if another group rose from the ashes, he would eliminate them just as quickly and painfully. That all light would be extinguished.

Well, Reno still dared to hope.

Even in his failure to murder and to protect the company's interests, he still hoped that one day, maybe one day, another prodigy would rise and strike down the darkness. That the light would rip through the now permanently greyed sky, and that the sun would gently reach the frayed edges of some of the sectors.

A breath too strong, a breath too much, and he choked. He glared at the cigarette as though it had something against him and then tossed it to the ground, stomping on it in vengeance. As he surveyed the rest of the sector, tapping his electro-mag rod over his shoulders, he wondered if the sun even hit this place long ago. Given the lack of greenery, he supposed not.

A smirk formed upon his pale, dirty face for a fraction of a second. Up ahead, he found his target. The target was completely clueless, much too young to really understand how dangerous the world could be, but too old to listen. He wore his pride on his sleeve, and it was about to be stolen away, as though it were a treasure. And as he watched quietly, Reno heard that single, droning, high-pitched ring in his head again.

Slouching, Reno approached the kid and began to walk along side him, getting an annoyed glance in return. He began to make light conversation, as though he had no motives, no nothing – as though there were still good people in the world somewhere. But he knew that there weren't, "Your skin's really white, yo. Tell me, did you ever see the sun?"

The boy furrowed his eyebrows, and the sharp intensity of the annoyed glare grew tenfold. His teeth pushed together as sound squeezed out from the cracks between them, "Only a few times. I don't remember the feeling very well."

A crooked grin then formed when the kid realised that Reno was no longer beside him. He turned on his heel and found the man in the raggedy suit, but he could only see him for a few seconds. Reno struck him with his rod across the head, sending him to the ground right after. Not an ounce of remorse surfaced as he rummaged through the kid's pockets and took every piece of gil that he could locate.

The ringing continued as he took a few steps away. And then, he couldn't help himself. He felt the pain of two years boil up and shake his insides, until he caved in and kicked the teen square in the stomach, sending him a few paces back. He went to repeat the action on the youth's head until he realised that a few stray people were approaching, so he went back the way he came, through the dishevelled and abandoned houses, way away until he was back on a main street.

Reno was nothing anymore. He had no purpose other than to wander, like a dead leaf in the wind. Sephiroth had no need for Turks or even SOLDIER – he gave both the opportunity to turn towards him, and both, sparring perhaps two SOLDIERs, turned away in disgust. And as they walked out, they were hunted. Rufus was held down during the ordeal. He saw Tseng and Elena die. Rude was killed right before he made it out of the door.

Without Rude, nobody was there to tell him to... stop.

For law enforcement in the new city of Edge, an extension of its sister city of Midgar, Sephiroth used his army of remnants beneath their large plates. They cared not for trouble amongst the broken, only keeping an eye out for any hints of rebellion. There was no such thing as police, as law – only tyranny. And as former law enforcement personnel, with no home, no job, no friends, what's a Turk to do?

Be angry, he reminded himself, because that was all he had left, Lash out and hide and hurt because we all failed.

He had already tottered between sanity and insanity like scales, ever since he had been moulded into the job he once adored. The first step to being a Turk was to wear an iron mask at all times. To let no story sway one away from the task, away from the defence of the Shinra Electric Power Company or away from any other tasks. No matter how much you felt like breaking inside, the cracks were to be mended in the blink of an eye.

The second step to being a Turk was to go mad. To be ruthless and cruel, yet efficient in every task that was to be given. That damn ringing noise got him going down the path pretty fast, if only to hide.

Murder got much easier after the first few times. It didn't matter if the target had breasts or could barely walk. Their faces used to haunt him, but now, they were nothing. A distant memory, somewhere back when things were better and when the reality way back when was a little kinder.

The final step was to never look back. And even now, when given the opportunity, he wouldn't. He couldn't. He needed it to survive.

The noise became sharper, higher as he wandered. He counted the gil he had stolen before pocketing it and resuming his trademark slouch. He stopped on a street corner and looked to the food stand that boasted a long line of people waiting for the slop in the bowl. Judging by the way the damn thing slid into the metal confinements, he'd rather starve today than eat... well, whatever that was.

A fight broke out in the line. Something about being too costly, or taking another's money. Something else soon followed about cutting in, and the entire line was in a ruckus, sparing the children's blank, confused faced. The smirk resurfaced as he watched them like the animals they were, as the thrill of fighting beckoned him to join, for it was the only life he could still savour like he did in the twilight of yesterday.

Reno approached and wondered if the sun had set yet.