Desha's Reno of the Turks Fan Fiction

Chapter 84: Meetings

“I can only assume Veld informed you of the present… situation,” Tseng sighed. He was seated in Ward’s tiny office in the back of the medical suite while the doctor busied herself with the little electric kettle in the corner.

“Aye, he mighta mentioned something about that…” She poured two cups of tea and carried them over to her desk, setting one in front of the Turk. “Drink that,” she said, motioning to the beverage.

Tseng lifted the cup, taking a tentative sip, and repressed the the urge to grimace at the pungently floral aroma. He was not a fan of Mideel’s idea of ‘tea’. It was far too overpowering, and lacking the subtlety of flavor of his preferred Wutaiian leaves. Veld’s wife, on more than one occasion, had teasingly accused him of being something of a tea snob… and though it had been meant as a joke, Tseng was forced to admit it wasn’t really that far from the truth. He’d long been of the opinion that no one outside of his homeland knew what tea was actually supposed to taste like.

Still… Mideelian tea was far better than the Mideelian take on coffee, in his opinion.

“Now then,” Ward continued, once she was satisfied he would follow her instructions, “Since I’ve not been sent yer results just yet, maybe yeh’d care ta enlighten me about what they had ta say.”

Tseng snorted softly. “Precisely what I’m sure Veld expected.”

“Yer sidelined, then,” the doctor replied with a nod. It wasn’t a question. Merely confirmation of fact. “And what are the conditions of yer return ta duty?”

The Turk exhaled heavily and reached for the now somewhat crumpled slip of paper in his pocket. He offered it to the aging doctor.

“Regular appointments twice a week to monitor my state of mind, and… this. Reevaluation in four weeks,” he said, with no attempt to hide his obvious distaste. Ward took the proffered paper and read it over for a moment. Tseng shook his head indignantly and set his tea down. “Tell me, Justinia… what good will artificial happiness do me?”

“None, I’d wager… nor’s that what this medication is. If yer looking fer artificial happiness, yeh’d have better luck in the Sector Two drug dens.”

“Regardless, I don’t plan to take it.”

Ward’s eyebrow rose in challenge. “Oh? And just what makes yeh qualified ta decide that?” she demanded. Tseng dropped his gaze, and reached for his tea again, staring into the dark liquid. Far too dark. Proper tea should be almost golden in hue, save for a few specific varieties.

“… If I can’t cure myself of this… mindset… on my own, and rely on antidepressants to be able to do my job, how can I ever face my team again? How will they ever be able to trust any decision I make? How will I be able to trust my own decisions?”

Ward shook her head. “Don’t be daft,” she replied, and Tseng’s eyes shot up again, fixing her with a glare. She pointedly ignored it. “Yeh won’t be on this indefinitely. I suppose yeh’d prefer ta hobble around on a broken leg, too, rather than relying on crutches fer a few weeks, then?”

“Of course not,” Tseng replied with a roll of his eyes, “But that’s hardly the same thing.”

“Yer plain wrong on that. They’re no different at all. They’re both a kind of tool… one meant ta help yeh heal yerself.”

“Justina…”

“No. I’m not one of yer Turks, and around here I give the orders. So, yer going ta sit there, drink yer tea, and listen ta me. Fer once,” she said, sternly, “Yer stubborn as a Titan-forsaken sea worm, Tseng. So stubborn yeh could probably pull yerself outta this on sheer will alone, eventually… but yeh don’t have ta do it the hard way. And more ta the point, yeh don’t have the time ta try. Yeh’ve got people who need yeh now. If yer not willing ta swallow yer pride for yer own sake – and don’t yeh even think of denying that’s exactly what this is really about – then do it for that wee rookie of yers.”

Tseng narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s a rather underhanded tactic, don’t you think, Justina? Using someone you know I care about to manipulate me?”

Dr. Ward merely smiled back at him. “Yeh can call it underhanded if yeh like… I prefer ta think of it as knowing my patient. If it makes yeh feel any better, yer treatment is confidential. No one on my staff’ll be discussing specifics with anyone… even if a certain redhead were ta venture down ta ask.”

“… Fine. I’ll take the Leviathan-be-damned pills,” he muttered in response. Sometimes he wondered if perhaps the good doctor spent just a little too much time treating members of the Turks. She was beginning to think a bit like one herself.

But… at least the others wouldn’t have to know. At least Reno wouldn’t have to know. Somehow, as unappealing as the idea of medication was to him, the idea of his closest friends… his family… seeing that level of weakness in him was downright abhorrent.

“And yeh’ll watch yer language,” she chastised him, smirking slightly, “Bad enough I have ta be on Reno’s case about that constantly.”

“So long as I seem to be picking up Reno’s habits, perhaps I should start demanding candy in exchange for my cooperation, as well…” he snorted, annoyed at being out-flanked by the medical staff. Dr. Ward chuckled and stood up, rounding her desk and letting her hand come to rest gently on the Turk lieutenant’s shoulder.

“Tseng, if yeh wanted a sucker, all yeh had ta do is ask…” she teased, before her expression turned serious again, “It’s my job ta make yeh better. Yeh’ve always trusted me ta do that before… Don’t stop now.”

Tseng let his gaze drop back to his tea for a moment and sighed. “I do trust you. That doesn’t make this any less humiliating.”

Dr. Ward gave the back of his neck a soft squeeze and clucked her tongue. “I don’t see what’s so ‘humiliating’ about doing everything in yer power ta repair the damage done by a terrible tragedy… more than one,really. Yer only human, Tseng.”

---

Reno peered through the plexiglass window of the executive helicopter as the plains swept past them far below. They’d be in Kalm in a matter of minutes, and he couldn’t help but worry. Everything seemed, well… calm. It was too much like yesterday. Neither he nor Rufus had expected what had happened, and he couldn’t help but think that it might happen again.

At least this time, he wasn’t on his own.

He’d been lucky yesterday. Any number of things could have gone wrong and didn’t, and they’d landed safely. And if they hadn’t… it would have been on him. That, in retrospect, was even more terrifying than hanging from a helicopter skid a thousand feet up. Reno had thought he understood what it was to be responsible for someone else’s life. After all… he’d been protecting Lira long before the Turks had found him.

He’d realized yesterday – sometime between getting punched in the face by a would-be kidnapper and being hugged by a very relieved Tseng – that he didn’t understand shit. He’d been terrified yesterday. Not so much of dying himself… but of fucking up royally and getting Rufus killed in the process. It was a lot for one scrawny teenager to carry on his shoulders… and here he was, doing it all over again.

Yeah… he was definitely glad he wasn’t on his own this time.

He did take a little pride in knowing, though, that the three additional Turks weren’t accompanying him due to any failure on his part. They were there strictly because the threat warranted it. And he was there because he’d proven himself responsible enough and capable enough to be trusted with such an assignment.

The redhead glanced over at Rufus, who had seemed lost in his own thoughts since shortly after they’d left the city. At terrifying as yesterday had been for Reno, it had to be worse for the brat. He was the target, after all. Was still a target. For Reno, that was something he’d signed up for. But for Rufus? Not even close.

It was kind of bullshit, too. Rufus wasn’t in charge of Shinra Company. He wasn’t the one who’d demanded that Wutai let them build a reactor that wasn’t wanted. That was all on his father. Rufus was just caught in the crossfire, for the crime of being related to the president. Even as big a dick as he was sometimes, that seemed pretty goddamn unfair in Reno’s mind.

“Sir? We’ll be arriving in Kalm in about two more minutes,” Remy’s voice stated over the intercom. Rufus seemed to shake himself from his daze, and pressed the button to respond.

“Understood,” he replied, before returning his gaze to the the window. Soon they were descending in an open area a little north of the town. Sato and Saya hit the ground first, climbing out of the second helicopter. By the time the executive copter landed, they had already moved off some distance to secure the area and the vice president’s path into town.

Reno hopped out almost as soon as they touched down. The rotors were still spinning when Rufus followed him, sticking unusually close to the rookie Turk. Remy emerged from the cockpit a moment later, and started towards town, the vice president in tow, with Reno bringing up the rear.

The meeting was being held at a small inn on the town’s main street. Saya and Sato leapfrogged their way towards it, making sure every inch of the trip was secure before allowing Rufus and his bodyguards to proceed. Saya slipped into the building well ahead of them. By the time the others reached the doors, she had emerged again and was waving them in.

“All clear inside,” she said, and Reno let himself relax slightly. Now that they were safely indoors, there were a lot fewer avenues of attack. Much less nerve-wracking than being out in the open on the street. Saya lead the party upstairs to a large room on the second floor and Rufus settled in at a freshly scrubbed wooden table near the window. Remy frowned and briskly crossed the room, yanking the curtains tightly shut.

“The representatives from Corel will be here in half an hour,” she said, “Let’s see to it that everything is secure before they arrive. Sato, I’m going to want you downstairs watching the back entrance. Saya, the front. Reno… you’ll be at the top of the stairs, while I stay in the room during the meeting.”

“Before you’ve engrossed yourselves too much in the minutia of preventing my untimely demise, I’ve placed a small order for refreshments with a nearby cafe,” Rufus interjected, calmly examining his fingernails. “Send the slum rat and the lunatic to pick it up, would you?”

Reno rolled his eyes. He recognized false bravado when he heard it… Rufus was nowhere near as unruffled as he was pretending to be. Sato, meanwhile, just snorted in amusement.

“Well? Yeh heard the vice president, Slum Rat,” he chuckled, looping an arm over the redhead’s shoulders. “Yeh ‘n me have an errand ta run.”

Reno smirked and glanced over at Saya. “He doesn’t even have wonder if people are referrin’ to him when they say ‘the lunatic’ anymore, does he?”

“And yet he still wonders why I’m embarrassed ta be seen with ‘im in public…” Saya responded with a groan. Sato flashed her a grin and wordlessly escorted the rookie Turk back out to the street. They made their way down to a little cafe tucked back between two larger buildings. It was still much too early for lunch… but a bit late for breakfast… and yet the eatery was noticeably busy. A menu board just outside the entrance offered an explanation as to why. Brunch selections were listed neatly in chalky handwriting. Reno snickered slightly.

“Ya know… whoever came up with the whole brunch thing was a fuckin’ genius.”

“Yeah? ‘N just why’s that?” Sato asked as they joined the line for the counter.

“Well, think about it…” the redhead replied, with a grin, “Instead of just gettin’ the breakfast ‘n lunch crowds, you have a whole extra meal devoted to the people who were too fuckin’ lazy for the breakfast rush and in too big a hurry for the lunch rush. Plus people like me who’re more than happy to eat six meals a day.”

Sato laughed and shook his head.

“Aye, I s’pose yeh do have a point there,” he snickered. In short order, they reached the front of the line and were presented with several boxes of food. The senior Turk piled as much as he could into the redhead’s arms before taking the remainder himself and shuffling back out the door.

“Heh… Think we oughta taste test this before we let Rufus eat any of it?” the rookie joked. “Ya know… just in case someone thought to poison the shit outta it?”

“Hmph… yeh joke, but I’ll wager Remy’ll ‘least consider doin’ just that soon as we get back.”

“I volunteer as a guinea pig,” Reno grinned, “Don’t know what the brat ordered, but it smells amazing…”

“Heh… Fat chance. If Remy’s gonna risk poisonin’ someone, it’ll be me, rookie,” Sato laughed.

---

Rude kept his eyes focused firmly on the end of the alleyway. It was, after all, the only way in or out, and if someone was planning to hassle them, that’s where they’d be coming from. He wished Tres would hurry up already. The Sector 2 slums weren’t exactly the friendliest of places in Midgar… even during the day.

Though to be fair, the pair of them were presently in one of the better parts of the sector… relatively speaking. The major drug dens were well to the east, and they were outside of the more violent gangs’ territories. Not that that was incentive for him to let his guard down. There were plenty of assholes looking for trouble even in the ‘decent’ parts of Sector 2.

He’d found that out on his first visit, over a year ago, when he’d tracked Reno to the little cemetery where his mother was buried. Seriously… what kind of creeps tried to jump a guy visiting a grave? The redhead had later told him that he and the apparent leader of the group had a history, but still…

Tres hadn’t exactly been thrilled to find out where he’d gone that evening, either. In fact, the senior Turk had lectured him for what felt like ages the next time he saw him, and told him never to go back down to Sector 2 alone ever again. Not as a rookie, or as a full Turk when he was eventually promoted.

Of course, he hadn’t really been alone. Reno had been there, too, after all. Well… after he’d found him, at least. The redhead, of course, had felt perfectly comfortable strolling into what was probably Midgar’s most dangerous sector… but then, he’d lived there his entire life up until Tseng had taken him away from all that. It was just the same old Sector 2 for him.

Speaking of Tseng… Rude had learned early that morning – well before Veld had informed the rookies that the Turk lieutenant would not be present for training today – that something had happened. He still wasn’t sure what… but he’d managed to track him down to Medical before Tres had pulled him away from his efforts to assist with their current assignment. Whether he was hurt or sick, the rookie wasn’t sure… and Reno had been busy prepping for his escort mission. Rude hadn’t wanted to ask him about it just then… or inadvertently give him something to worry about if he didn’t already know what was going on.

He hadn’t yet spoken to Tres about it, either. His mentor would almost certainly know something by now… but they had an important mission to finish first. Personal pursuits would need to wait.

Which was why he was presently standing guard in the shadows of an alley, trying not to think about it.

The rumor mill had been churning more vigorously than usual lately, and Tres was convinced that something was up. After the last attack on the city, the senior Turk was bound and determined to find out what and head it off. The last Wutaiian attack had cost Luca his life… and Tres was still taking that very personally, Rude knew. He’d tried to assure the man that no one on the team blamed him for Luca’s death… to which Tres had only replied that he damn well knew that, but that it didn’t make his friend any less dead.

He’d never really thought about intelligence in quite that frame of mind until recently. Oh, he’d recognized how important it was a long time ago. Operations lived or died on the quality of the intelligence he and Tres provided. But as it turned out… so did the Turks themselves in some cases. He couldn’t honestly say that the full weight of that responsibility had hit him until recently, and it put his mentor’s dedication to his craft in a whole new light for him. They weren’t just protecting Shinra’s interests. They were protecting their fellow Turks.

The sound of voices from the far end of the alley interrupted his musings and Rude sank farther into the shadows, ensuring that he was out of sight. His eyes narrowed as three young men passed by, oblivious to his presence. He recognized at least one of them.

He was tall and built like a brawler, most of both arms covered in tattoos. The same asshole who’d gone after Reno in the cemetery.

Rude instinctively took a step forward, only to be rather roughly yanked backwards by the collar of his shirt before he could do anything else.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” Tres hissed at him, holding him in place until the three of them were out of earshot. Rude blinked in surprise. He’d been so focused on the trio, he hadn’t noticed his mentor emerge from the door behind him.

“… I know that guy,” Rude replied. Tres snorted softly.

“Tch… Jericho? How the fuck are you involved with that psychopath?”

“Ran into him awhile back. He’s the one that attacked Reno.”

His mentor gave him a sharp slap in the back of the head. “And what? You thought you’d walk on over and say hello? What’d I tell ya ’bout keepin’ yourself outta trouble down here? We need people to be willing to talk to us. They ain’t gonna be so willing if you go around makin’ enemies outta assholes like Jericho.”

“…” Rude dropped his gaze, chastised. He really didn’t know what he’d intended to do.

“Pick your battles, kid. That piece of shit sure as hell deserves a good ass-kickin’, from what I hear… but ain’t nothin’ useful gonna come of it for us right now. Let it go. He’ll get his eventually. They always do.” Tres shook his head and grabbed Rude firmly by the arm, escorting him back the way they’d come. “Now, let’s get outta here. I got what we came for.”

---

“Sir… I really wish you’d informed me of the food beforehand,” Remy said as Saya saw to ensuring that all of the other windows were locked, and the curtains drawn. Rufus snorted softly in annoyance and set about turning on more lights before they were enveloped in darkness.

“Must you be so paranoid?” he asked. Granted, he was feeling a bit overly-cautious himself, but really… he was far more valuable alive than dead. Did the woman really believe Wutaii would attempt to poison him rather than kidnap him as they’d attempted yesterday?

“Yes, sir, I must,” the Turk replied, sourly, “That’s my job.”

He scowled and resumed his seat at the table. He disliked Remy. Certainly, she was the consummate professional and exceptionally good at her job – Tseng had been singing her praises for years now – but whenever he found himself under her watchful eye, he felt like a child under the care of a nanny. She could be irritatingly condescending at times, took everything far too literally, and didn’t even have the decency to take offense when he directly insulted her. Or if she did, she never let on. If she was going to intentionally be a wasted effort, she might at least attempt to be as entertaining as the slum rat could be and make the occasional snarky rebuttal.

Before he could reply to that effect, however, the aforementioned slum rat and the Mideelian idiot returned from their errand, food in hand. Rufus smirked.

“Then, if you’re so very concerned, perhaps you should sample it yourself.”

He was quite certain that the effort it took her not to roll her eyes at him must have been truly monumental. She had the same exasperated look on her face Tseng often did right before he told him he was tired of his games. The difference being that Remy was unlikely to call him on it they way Tseng – and even that red-haired little pain in the backside – would have.

“Happy ta volunteer as taste tester, sir!” Sato suddenly piped up, setting his load down on the table. Before anyone could respond, he’d torn the foil cover off of one of the boxes and helped himself to a sandwich quarter. Rufus rolled his eyes as it vanished into his mouth. “Tastes good ta me…” the Turk added with a grin.

“Sato…” Remy said, warningly through gritted teeth. The Mideelian Turk flashed her a wide grin, and she shook her head while Reno, and even Saya, snickered quietly off to one side. But before she could chastise him further, the grin slowly faded from his face and his eyes widened. Sato raised a hand to his chest, and with a faint choking sound keeled over on the floor. His body twitched violently for a moment before going still, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Sato!” Reno and Saya chorused in alarm, and Rufus took a step away from the sight, a cold chill coming over him. His breathing quickened as he looked over at food on the table, not quite believing such a thing was possible.

By then, Saya was crouched beside her cousin, searching desperately for any sign of life. Her fingers pressed against the artery in his throat feeling for a pulse. And then, without warning, her entire expression morphed into one of fury.

“Goddamnit, yeh psychotic son of a sea worm!” she roared, and slapped him across the face.

“Oy!” Sato yelled, sitting up on the floor, glaring at her, “That hurt!”

“Good! ‘Cause that wasn’t funny!” she replied, scowling as she got to her feet and stormed to the other side of the room, muttering unflattering epitaphs under her breath. Sato snorted and turned to say something to Remy… only to very quickly snap his mouth shut at the sight of her glare.

“Get. Downstairs,” the Turk ground out, angrily, “Now.”

“Ah, fer Odin’s sake… I was only tryin’ ta lighten the mood a wee bit,” Sato groused as he picked himself up and disappeared through the door. His footsteps quickly faded down the stairs.

“I swear ta Titan, that idiot’s goin’ ta take his bloody jokes too far one of these days…” Saya grumbled, “I’d best get inta position, too. I dinnae think we want ta leave him ta his own devices fer too long after that…”

Rufus forced himself to take a calming breath as he resumed his seat at the table, hurriedly schooling his features into a look of general disdain… though he was fairly certain he caught the slum rat’s gaze on him before he managed it. To his credit, Reno said nothing, and thus the vice president was thankfully not confronted with his momentary expression of concern for the obnoxious Mideelian.

“Well… now that that excitement is over,” Remy began, “The representatives from Corel will be here shortly. Reno… get out to your post, as well.”

Reno nodded and scurried off like a good little subordinate, apparently not willing to test his superior’s patience any more than it already had been. Rufus was almost annoyed by the redhead’s departure. Truth be told, he would have rather had the slum rat sit in on the meeting than Remy… though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why it made any difference whatsoever. Perhaps just a little residual gratitude for his actions yesterday…

---

“Is it what we thought?” Rude asked as he and Tres boarded the train back up to the Plate. The senior Turk gripped the rail alongside the door way and swung himself around the corner, landing neatly in one of the seats. Rude joined him a moment later.

“It’s lookin’ that way, kid,” his mentor replied, double-checking that they were alone in the car before deciding to elaborate. “Contact in Two says his cousin’s smugglin’ shit in through the Number 2 lower gate. There’s a delivery comin’ into the slums tonight. My informant says weapons… but if Fuhito’s involved, ‘n I’d bet good money he is, then that means Istev’s probably involved, and considerin’ these assholes have been blowin’ shit up left ‘n right, it’s gotta be explosives, too. Tch… figures Veld sent Sato off to help babysit the President’s spawn today. I fuckin’ hate disarmin’ that shit.”

“Shouldn’t we be heading for the gate, then?” Rude asked. The train started on its long spiral upwards, and Tres shook his head.

“The two of us against fuck only knows how many of Fuhito’s mercs? No thanks. ‘Sides… nothin’s goin’ down ’til tonight. We’re gonna report in, get us some backup, and make damn sure we’re ready for ’em this time.”

Rude nodded in understanding and leaned back against his seat. Tres was right. Sitting around waiting for them to show up was stupid. They’d end up outnumbered and outgunned on their own. His mentor scowled out the window, a pensive expression on his face.

“Something wrong?” Rude asked, and Tres snorted.

“Just thinkin’. These assholes like playin’ games with us. Can’t help but think it’s no coincidence that half the fuckin’ team’s in Kalm right now. And with Tseng suspended…”

“Tseng’s suspended?” the rookie interrupted, caught off-guard, and Tres smirked slightly.

“Come on, kid… You shoulda had that one nailed down by now. I know you were lookin’ into it before we left.”

“…”

Tres chuckled quietly, before switching to a more stern tone of voice. “Rude, you need to be more aggressive lookin’ for info. I saw that you were logged into the camera system before we left. Ya knew he was down on Nine. Why didn’t you pull up the Medical Suite’s appointment calendar?”

“… I… didn’t want to invade his privacy.”

His mentor rolled his eyes. “Invadin’ privacy is what we do, kid,” he replied. “Look… I know how ya feel. No use sugar coatin’ it. It’s a violation and it’s a generally shitty thing to do… ‘specially when it’s someone you know. That’s somethin’ you need to get past, though. You can’t make sound decisions if you don’t know all the facts, plain ‘n simple. And neither can the team. They depend on us for that.”

“…” Rude had never been fond of Tres’ logic on that matter. His mentor saw it as his duty to know everything he could possibly know, even if that meant digging into the skeletons in his teammates’ closets. Rude was a bit more of the opinion that there were some things that he just didn’t need to know. It was irrelevant data that was largely a waste of time to collect. Tres, on the other hand, always said there was no such thing as irrelevant data. Everything was relevant to something, sooner or later. Frankly, the rookie really wasn’t quite sure which of them was right.

“… So why’s he suspended?” Rude finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Besides which, he knew the question was expected of him. If it hadn’t been, Tres never would have brought up the subject to begin with. His mentor liked to test him occasionally… particularly when the subject at hand involved intel the senior Turk had decided his protege should be aware of. And Tres was always slightly annoyed with him if he hadn’t already found it out for himself.

“Psych eval says he’s not fit for duty,” Tres replied. “Didn’t read through everything. Even I got my limits on respectin’ other people’s privacy. But I got the gist of what was goin’ on. He’s havin’ a hard time dealin’ with what happened to Luca… on top of what happened to his kid sister. And then we got Rufus’ punk ass almost gettin’ kidnapped, not to mention watchin’ Reno’s little sky ballet yesterday. Hell, I’d probably be headin’ for a nervous breakdown, too, if you pulled some shit like that…” He pointedly looked over at the rookie Turk. “So don’t go pulling shit like that. I ever see you hangin’ off the side of a helicopter, you can count on me smackin’ some sense into you. Assumin’ you survive it.” He grinned slightly. “Hell, I think I’d probably still smack ya even if you didn’t survive it.”

Rude snorted softly in laughter. “Sir, if you ever see me hanging off the side of a helicopter, just assume I’ve lost my mind. I hate heights.” He quickly sobered, however. “So… what does all this mean for Tseng?”

Tres shrugged. “Don’t have the official word on that, yet. But like I said, he’s suspended… or, at least, he is if Veld’s followin’ protocol. Means he can’t give orders, can’t be involved in field operations, certain high level security clearances are temporarily rescinded… Pretty much parks him at his desk ’til he’s cleared.”

“…”

In Rude’s mind, Tseng had always been the epitome of what a Turk should aspire to since before the rookie had even been promoted. It was hard to reconcile that ideal with this new information. He wondered if Reno knew…

Given that Tres wasn’t supposed to know yet – and thus, neither was he – it was unlikely. He frowned as he considered whether or not he should tell him, or let Veld do it. On one hand, Reno was his best friend. He didn’t like keeping secrets from him, and besides which, Tseng was… more the just a mentor to the redhead. He had the right to know… didn’t he?

On the other, it brought him right back to his initial reason for not pushing farther in his own investigation this morning. And it certainly wasn’t his place to just start putting his fellow Turks’ issues on blast just because he happened to know about them.

“Look,” Tres said when the silence had dragged on too long for his liking, “You can’t be shy when it comes to diggin’ up dirt on people, rookie. The shit they don’t want people to know is exactly the shit you need to be lookin’ for. No matter who’s involved. You wanna be a good intelligence agent, you need to put personal feelings aside sometimes.”

“… But what am I supposed to do with intel like that?” Rude asked, growing frustrated.

“Ya file it away until it’s useful. And maybe it’s never useful. Maybe you sit on it ’til the day you die. The point is you know. Sometimes just knowing ends up makin’ all the difference in the world.”

“… I guess,” the rookie said, not really convinced. Tres smirked.

“Just take my word for it, for now, kid. One of these days, you’ll see I’m right. Mean time, let’s focus on fuckin’ up these Wutaiin dickweeds’ plans, huh?”

~end chapter 84~