Desha's Reno of the Turks Fan Fiction

Chapter 11: Games

“… Nice.”

Rude opened up the door on the passenger’s side of the large, black pickup truck parked in one of the spaces reserved for the Turks. Reno grinned and hopped inside. He wondered if the company would give him a car, or if that was something he’d have to save up for and buy himself. He kind of hoped it was the former…

Of course… he’d have to actually learn how to drive first.

“So. What’s the plan?” he asked, as Rude climbed behind the wheel.

“Food?”

“You fuckin’ read my mind…” the redhead replied.

“You like seafood? Been playing around with some new recipes… It’d be nice to try them out on someone besides myself for a change.”

“Heh… if I can eat it and not die, I like it just fine,” he replied, smirking, “You like to cook or somethin’?”

“… It’s a hobby,” Rude replied, looking a little embarrassed.

“That’s cool. I kinda suck at it. My friend Lira’s not so great at it either, but at least her stuff comes out mostly tastin’ like food instead of like death…”

“She a friend… or a girlfriend?”

“Friend,” Reno stated emphatically, but added, “with… ya know… benefits. We’re not an item, though. It’s… complicated. She’s more like a sister.”

“That you sleep with,” Rude said, snickering.

“Like I said,” the redhead laughed, “Complicated. What about you?”

“No girlfriend. Haven’t really been in Midgar long enough to look… Only about a year and a half. I came to join the recruitment program, so I was more focused on training than dating. Then I got promoted to the Turks, and…” He paused, laughing to himself for a moment. “Well… you’ll find out what that’s like soon enough.”

They turned onto the freeway, heading into Sector Five. Traffic was heavy, with hundreds – maybe even thousands – of people heading home from work for the evening.

“So where’d you live before?” Reno asked.

“Rocket Town. Born and raised.” He took the next exit, and several blocks later pulled into a parking lot. The building was much taller than the one Tseng lived in… but didn’t look quite as exclusive. He saw balconies side by side, row after row. Obviously, smaller apartments and more than one tenant per level. Rude parked near the side entrance, and led him up to the second floor. Reno wasn’t particularly surprised by how nice it was inside. That seemed to be the norm up here on the Plate.

“Want a beer?” Rude asked, tossing his keys on the counter.

“Oh, dear Ifrit, yes…” the redhead sighed. “Apparently I’m not allowed in the bars up here.”

The other Turk sniggered, and headed to the fridge, extracting two bottles and passing one over to his guest. “Neither am I… technically. I look old enough I can usually pass with a fake ID. And if you ask nicely, Sato will pick you up something from the store. For a small fee.”

Reno opened his drink, and took a long swig from the bottle. “… Any chance you could point me to where I could get one of those fake IDs?” he asked hopefully.

“Could. Might not work for you, though. You look about twelve,” he replied teasingly.

“Hey!” The redhead couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face, though. He was starting to like this guy. Rude flashed him a smile and turned back to the kitchen. “Heh… Why do I get the feeling I’m gonna be gettin’ that a lot?”

“Well, you are the youngest Turk. Ever.”

Reno choked slightly on the sip he’d just taken. “What’dya mean ‘ever’? Like ever ever?”

“Far as I can tell. Usually people who end up as Turks are either recruited because they already have experience, or enlist in the recruitment program for a year or two, training and learning about the job. Just about everyone is at least eighteen before promotion… I was four months shy. Just turned last month. Most are in their twenties,” said Rude. He snickered and added, “So… yeah. You’re the baby of the family.”

“Oh, terrific. That’s not gonna get old or anything…” Reno laughed. By then, Rude had gathered a slew of ingredients onto the counter and was seasoning a couple of generously cut fish fillets with salt and pepper. “So what’s for dinner?”

“Almond crusted tilapia with grilled asparagus.” He set a skillet on the stove and added butter and olive oil before turning on the heat.

“Sounds fancy… considerin’ I have no idea what half of that is,” the redhead said, peering around Rude’s broad frame.

“Which half?”

“Put it this way… I recognized the word ‘crusted’. And ‘grilled’. And… ‘with‘.”

Rude snorted softly in laughter.

---

“Tseng… a word, please?”

He’d nearly made it to the elevator. He should have known better. The Wutaiian Turk halted his departure and turned back to his mentor.

“Of course,” he replied, and followed the man back to his office.

“You’re certain this is what you want? It’s not easy training a rookie who’s gone through recruitment and already has a idea what he’s getting himself into. Training one entirely in the field… hmph… There’s a reason we don’t generally do that, you know.”

“And you believe I can’t,” Tseng said, sourly. Veld shook his head.

“I didn’t say that. It’s just… I would have preferred your first to have been someone not so heavily skewed toward potential failure. He’s just a child. Undisciplined, untrained… bordering on uncivilized, from what you’ve told me.”

Tseng snorted. “He’s far more civilized than Sato, and we haven’t dismissed that lunatic yet.”

The Turk leader cracked a smile at that. “I suppose you do have a point there. Still… Why him? Why take on such a burden when you know you don’t have to?”

“… It’s… difficult to explain,” Tseng said with a shake of his head. “I would likely not have returned from that mission in Sector Three had I not met him. He put himself at risk for someone he didn’t even know. And the more I’ve watched him, the more certain I’ve become that this is the right choice for me… even if it will be difficult.”

“You always were stubborn,” Veld sighed. “Well… Have it your way. But don’t expect me to go easy on him just because he’s young and inexperienced.” He chuckled quietly. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you either, for that matter.”

“Name one time you ever went easy on me, sir.”

---

Reno grinned and took his shot. The cue ball rebounded and sent the eight ball rolling… directly into the corner pocket. He laughed victoriously.

“So… How many times do I have ta kick your ass before you finally give up?” he asked, leaning smugly against the table. After dinner… which had been amazing, in Reno’s not-so-expert opinion… the pair had retreated to the little game room on the first floor of the building for a few games of pool. So far, Reno was not only in the lead… he was annihilating his opponent.

Rude snickered. “Should’ve known you’d be a pool shark.”

“Hey, ya work in a bar, you end up playin’ a lot,” Reno shrugged. “‘Sides… Once you figure out it’s all about the angles, it’s hardly even a challenge.”

“Hmph… You want a challenge, huh?”

Rude set his cue down and walked over to a table across the room, and Reno hurried to follow, curious what he had in mind. The other Turk opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out a long wooden box before taking a seat. The redhead followed suit. The table itself was inlaid with an eight by eight grid.

“Ever play chess?” Rude asked, and Reno shook his head. He opened the box and began removing the various pieces for the game, setting them out in a very particular order on the board. “It’s not that hard to learn… but its hard to win. Each piece moves in a specific way.” He picked up a small tower-like figure at the end of the row. “Rooks can move any number of spaces, but only in straight lines.” He set it down and picked up one from closer to the center. “Bishops can move any number of spaces, but only diagonally.”

“Okay… So what’s the goal?”

Rude picked up one of the two center-most figures. “To capture the king. You have to get your pieces into a position so that the other player’s king can’t make a move without being taken… while protecting your own.”

Reno skeptically cocked an eyebrow. “And that’s s’posed to be hard?”

“We’ll see how you feel after a game or two,” Rude replied, smirking. The redhead shrugged and made himself more comfortable.

“If you say so… Show me how the rest of these guys move.”

---

Almost three hours later, Rude stared down at the board in disbelief.

“Checkmate.”

The bald Turk shook his head, studying the pieces that surrounded his king.

“… Can’t be.” But it was… there were no moves remaining for him. The redhead sitting across from him grinned.

“Thought you said this game was hard,” he teased. Rude groaned and tipped his king over, conceding the game.

“You sure you’ve never played this before?” Granted, he was no grandmaster… but he’d been playing chess since he was little. He knew the game, and he knew he was at least halfway decent at it. And yet, he’d just been thoroughly whipped by a kid from the slums who claimed to have never played in his life. Eleven times! The only game he’d managed to win had been their very first, and likely only because it had taken his opponent a little while to pick it up. “How can you be this good?” he finally asked.

Reno only shrugged again.

“I dunno. I just don’t think it’s all that hard. I mean, there’s only so many places you can move, which means there’s only so many places I can move. I just… plan ahead so I don’t get cornered. That’s all.”

He was playing against a goddamn natural. That was the only explanation for it. Rude laughed, and leaned back in his chair.

“… ‘That’s all’, he says. Think I’m starting to see why Tseng was so interested in recruiting you.”

“What, ’cause I’m good at games?” Reno queried.

“Because you see things like this different than most people. Bet you’d make a hell of a strategist with a little training.”

“… Ya think?” he asked, uncertainly. The redhead leaned back, hands behind his head, apparently giving it some thought. Suddenly, though, his gaze snapped to something over Rude’s shoulder, and he paled slightly. “Oh, fuck…”

“What?” Rude asked in concern.

“It’s like five minute to ten. Tseng’s gonna murder me if I’m late…”

Both rookies hesitated a second or two longer, and then shot out of their seats, running for the door.

---

Tseng glowered at the clock. Twenty minutes. It was twenty minutes after ten, and his rookie was still absent. He was just reaching for his PHS to call him when the front door opened and a rather guilty looking redhead peered around it. Upon spotting the Turk lieutenant, he cringed, and slowly slipped into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Your curfew is at ten,” Tseng stated, arms folded over his chest.

“… Yeah… I know.”

“Then perhaps you’re also aware that it is now ten twenty. Where have you been?”

“Just… with Rude. I wasn’t payin’ real good attention to what time it was, ‘n we got into playin’ some games, ‘n… I, mean, I came straight here soon as we realized! I’m sorry, alright?!”

“You’re grounded for the remainder of the week. Work, and then home. That’s it,” Tseng stated. He hated to do it… but as Veld had said, Reno was undisciplined. And he wasn’t going to improve if his mentor let him slide on every little thing.

“W-wait… what?! I was only twenty fuckin’ minutes late, and it was a fuckin’ accident… and now I’m on some fuckin’ house arrest bullshit?!”

“Precisely. Go to bed. You’ll want to get plenty of sleep for tomorrow. Training begins, first thing.”

Reno’s eyes narrowed, and he stomped up to the older Turk. “Just what the hell gives you the right –”

“I am your commanding officer, and your legal guardian, and that gives me every right. You were aware of the rules, and you broke them. You will now deal with the consequences. Now… go to bed.”

The redhead sputtered, searching for a response, and finding none suitable, at last simply stormed off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Tseng sighed and sank down into his favorite armchair. Veld was right. This was going to be no simple task. But he’d made his choice and he wasn’t about to give up and take the easy way out.

“Leviathan give me strength,” he breathed.

~end chapter 11~