#[ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ; ffvii ac ]

[bitterarcs]

Reno. Was. Down. BAD. Kids and adults were treated as pariahs, croaking left and right, and the prodigal son and president Rufus ShinRa was afflicted by the sickness, however Reno — shit, he missed late night bar crawls and spending well-earned gil on the most ridiculous things. When sleep eluded the Turk, he missed luxurious trips to Midgar's premiere spa more than ever. Deep tissue massages, cleaning out the stock of gold label alcohol at adjacent bars, and taking a casual stroll by the HoneyBee Inn to amuse the girls with a charming smile and some generous gil.

For how much credit the entire world gave the Lifestream, Reno continued to think very sparingly of it. Couldn't it just fix all the shit going on, or, better yet, wouldn't it punish those who had fucked Gaia over time and time again? Some saw the president of the collapsed ShinRa as getting his new due, but there were thousands of former employees and a few handfuls of loyal Turks who remained unaffected by the geostigma. Reno supposed the Lifestream did not have conscious thought . . except for the time it saved the earth . . or had that been instinct?

Deep thought was not offered to the way the world worked, only that he, his Turks, and the boss man were shit out of luck. It was the end of an era for ShinRa, though the remaining Turks and Rufus claimed it to be the beginning of a new era. The hope people clung to when control was out of their hands — Reno was capable of understanding now. There were two things the redhead knew in life: how to be a ruthless kid and how to be a successful Turk. Clawing his way to the top as a child led him to the elite and coveted position among the Turks, but what was there after becoming a Turk?

Reno knew nothing else, and Reno wanted nothing else. The Turks who, in truth, were more civilian than actual Turks had built up lives for themselves far before the fall of the electric company. As for Rude, Elena, and Tseng, they, too, had nothing else. All of them heard the bitter remarks and snickers from the public . . the Turks were just playing pretend. Reno did not give much thought to it, because frankly deep and meaningful thoughts did not look good on him. He did what he did best, and wasn't that just part of the shit show that was life?

Luxuries aside, easy to jest about, the redheaded Turk missed the international missions of utmost importance, the state of the art equipment produced by ShinRa engineers, the feeling of power and importance on a global scale. He felt as though he had been knocked down the totem pole by many degrees. Did his comrades feel the same way as well? When inebriated, Reno attempted to pick his partner's brain over the matter, yet neither of them seemed too intent traversing down a rabbit hole of self-exploration and pity.

Perhaps the universe had heard him ( again, he didn't exactly believe in such a sentience ), perhaps Rufus grew tired of his Turks running around like errand boys and girl instead of putting their training to use. Just attending an exceptionally formal meeting in the meager home roused renewed energy within Reno, and the details which followed also excited him. Something different? Something actually new? There were no files to push around and no screen to project pertinent information; there was only memory. There was a name Verona and the rumours which surfaced to the front of his mind.

Apparently the half Turks had caught wind about her whereabouts; rumours they had followed until they found the woman themselves but had not approached. Rufus was already considering getting in leagues with the ex-AVALANCHE members, was he really contemplating extending a hand towards another ShinRa betrayer? The answer, of course, was yes. Reno and Rude were tasked to the mission, and mixed feelings spewed freely from the redhead's mouth during the trip. A meager amount of gil, rudimentary supplies, basically living out of a van . . . yeah, it was totally like the old days.

Reno wanted action, right? He certainly received it. He ceased complaining after the fourth day of travel as worry and paranoia mounted. Rude had heard the rumours too, but he offered little input whether or not he believed it. He knew his bald partner like the back of his hand didn't fail to notice the new level of tension on the fifth day of travel. They arrived at the coordinates provided by the other guys, and the van pulled up slowly as if to advertise their friendly presence.

Donning their Turk issued suits, both Reno and Rude exited the van at the same time and though his bald partner was head and shoulders taller than he, both men kept the same pace to the front of the home. Reno wished to whisper something snarky but dreaded the possibility it would be heard and taken badly. Wild thoughts kept bottled. Rude wore his black sunglasses, but the redhead as able to decipher the expression beneath as both men exchanged glances. Reno won, so the larger Turk knocked on the door with a gloved hand. Two steady beats, and then . . they waited.

starter for @strywoven