Desha's Reno of the Turks Fan Fiction

Chapter 94: Assignments

“… Can I ask you something?” Rude queried as he and Reno made their way through the somewhat dilapidated streets of Sector 5. They still had a ways to go before they reached The Lonely Dragon over in Three, but at least it was a fairly pleasant walk. Sector 5 wasn’t so bad, as slums went. Sure… most of the buildings were a hodgepodge of scavenged materials, but for the most part, none of them – even the ones that were original to the old town Midgar had been built on top of – looked like they were about to collapse. A few people even had little gardens in places where the sun poked through the Plate above them. Still… not exactly an ideal place to live.

“Sure,” the redhead shrugged. They strolled casually past a crumbling church, and Rude briefly watched a young girl with long brown hair slip inside through the heavy wooden doors, before turning back to his friend.

“Was it always this bad down here? I mean… has it gotten worse since you were a kid or has it always been… ?” He trailed off, gesturing to their surroundings.

Reno shrugged. “Guess that depends on your definition of bad,” he replied, and snickered, “Actually, some places have gotten a lot better, the way I hear it. I never left Two much, though. Not ’til I was older, anyway… and even then, it was pretty rare. Two’s always been a shithole. Mom wanted to live over here in Five… or maybe Seven someday. Never managed to scrape up the cash to get us outta there, though… ‘n I sucked when it came to money, so I was lucky if I managed to stay fed most days after she died. I wasn’t goin’ anywhere any time soon before Tseng came along.”

Rude glanced over at the younger Turk. It wasn’t often he so much as mentioned his mother without being prompted… much less offered any kind of insight into what she was like. He wasn’t sure if it had been meant to casually test those waters, or as an invitation for Rude to probe further. Reno smirked somewhat sadly when he caught him looking at him.

“Tch… Go ahead. You can ask if ya want.”

“… You still miss her a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” Reno sighed, and then gave a rather mirthless laugh, “Which is kinda ironic, seein’ as I hardly remember her anymore. I mean… I remember shit about her, ya know? Like her singin’ to me. Or how she always braided her hair first thing in the mornin’. Or how she never let anyone fuck with me, even when they were twice her size. But… a lot of the little details are just… gone.” He dropped his gaze to the path in front of them as they continued on in silence for a few minutes. “Been thinkin’ lately… I don’t talk about her ’cause the most vivid memory I got of her’s also my last memory of her. And it’s not a pleasant one. But if I keep this shit up… I’m afraid I’ll keep forgettin’ things, ’til there’s nothin’ else left of her. And I don’t wanna remember her like that.”

Rude swallowed sharply and rested a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. He understood what Reno meant. He’d been a lot older than his friend was when his own mother had died, and even he had days when he struggled to recall the finer details of her face or what her voice sounded like. Reno finally looked up at him.

“Ya mind if we table this discussion for now, though?” he asked, “I do wanna remember her… but I’m not so sure mid-assignment’s the best time for a therapy session.”

“Hmph… for either one of us,” Rude agreed, chuckling faintly.

---

Veld was uncharacteristically agitated when Tseng returned to the office, speaking animatedly on the phone with – judging by his clipped tone and exasperated expression – Heidegger. His suspicions were confirmed mere moments later, as his mentor beckoned him into his office.

“Yes, sir. I understand. We’ll begin preparations immediately.”

He sighed heavily as, apparently, the executive hung up on him, and calmly placed his phone on his desk. Veld then leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples.

“I swear, that man’s voice alone is enough to give me a migraine…” he lamented.

“If it’s any consolation, I wholeheartedly agree,” said Tseng.

“It’s no consolation at all,” Veld deadpanned. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk, and Tseng sat down. “Well?”

“I… am provisionally cleared for duty.”

“Oh, thank Titan,” the Turk leader breathed. “Remy is quite capable, but she’s not you, no matter how she tries.”

Tseng chuckled quietly and relaxed in his seat.

“You said provisionally?” Veld prompted.

“Yes, sir,” his lieutenant replied, leaning forward slightly. “I… As you are aware, part of my… treatment… included medication. I’ll be continuing to take it, with a re-evaluation in three months to determine whether or not it is necessary to persist, and sessions with Dr. Hildebrand every two weeks are required for the foreseeable future. It was also recommended that I transition back to full duty slowly, over the course of a week or two… though I will stress that that was a recommendation only, and wholly optional.”

Veld laughed, shaking his head. “Well… I see they’ve done absolutely nothing to cure you of your addiction to work…”

“I’m afraid that condition is chronic, sir,” Tseng replied, a teasing smile briefly crossing his lips.

“It’s good to have you back, Tseng,” Veld said, “Hmph… and just in time, as it turns out. Heidegger wants us to prepare for a major presidential visit to Junon.”

“Sir?”

“The president is confident a treaty will be negotiated with Wutai in short order. So confident, in fact, that he’s already writing his speech. He wants to give it in Junon, live on television, with the Shinra army and SOLDIER assembled behind him. The speech will be preceded by a parade through the base, and he would ideally like the actual signing of said treaty to take place between himself and Lord Godo immediately after on the promenade.”

Now it was Tseng’s turn to groan.

“So… multiple VIPs, Wutaiian representatives and entourage who will need to be vetted, general crowd control, security for not only the location of the signing and the speech, but the entire parade route… all of which will be entirely out in the open and exposed. Am I missing anything?”

“He wants the grounds opened up to approximately one thousand members of the general public to pad the crowds, as well,” Veld replied.

“Of course he does…” the Wutaiian Turk sighed. “Sir… is it too late for me to put in for a vacation?”

“No… but you’ll be taking it after this is all over,” Veld answered, smirking.

“In that case… I should contact Viridia, and let her know just what sort of nightmare is about to descend upon her.”

“Good idea. And after that, I have another assignment for you, if you feel you’re ready for it. I trust you remember that girl and her mother that Hojo wanted found…?”

To be honest, Tseng hadn’t given those two much thought at all in recent months… but yes, he did remember. He’d first been sent after them… well… not really that long after he’d brought Reno up to the Plate, actually, now that he thought about it. Certainly before his Hell Week, at any rate. In fact, he’d taken the redhead down with him to investigate that lead, though they’d come up empty-handed.

“I take it we’ve gotten some new information on them?” he asked.

“Possibly. Tres will fill you in. It may simply be another dead end and I understand that everyone has a lot on their plates right now, but we do have standing orders to bring the pair of them back…”

“Understood. I’ll handle it.”

Dead end or not, honestly, he was just itching to be back in the field. An afternoon outside of the office… even if, as he suspected, it involved a trip down to the Slums… sounded strangely appealing at the moment.

---

“Well, now… Would ya look what the cripshays dragged in,” a familiar voice laughed as Reno and Rude stepped into the empty bar. Reno grinned widely and offered his former boss a wave. It had been awhile. He hadn’t been down here since he’d paid the place a quick visit not long after being recruited.

“Hey, Wilfred… How’s it hangin’?”

“Short, shriveled, and slightly to the left,” the old bartender joked, “Finally decided to come crawlin’ back, beggin’ for your old job, eh?”

“Hate ta disappoint… We’re just here to meet someone,” Reno snickered, taking a seat at the bar. Rude silently followed suit. They were a little early… their contact wasn’t supposed to show for another twenty minutes or so. But that just gave them more time to settle in and make sure the area was secure. Not that that was particularly hard. There was no one else here at the moment besides Wilfred. Even the barkeep’s old pal Hansen hadn’t turned up quite yet, and he was practically a fixture at the Lonely Dragon.

Wilfred chuckled and wiped down the bar in front of him before setting out a bowl of peanuts.

“Guess that’s my loss, then,” he sighed, “You were my best bartender, ya know.” He paused a moment, eyeing the young Turk. “New life seems to agree with ya, though. Ya look good, kid. What’re you two drinkin’? First round’s on the house.”

The redhead smirked. “You’re only offerin’ that ’cause ya know we’re on the clock ‘n can’t drink, aren’t you?” he snickered.

“Heh… Waters all around, it is!” he declared. They spent the next several minutes making small talk with the bartender, and munching on the free peanuts so generously offered to them – likely in the hopes of getting the two Turks to actually buy something. Wilfred was a great guy… but he took every opportunity that presented itself to turn a profit. That was one of the reasons his place was one of the more successful establishments in Sector 3, after all.

Finally, someone walked through the door, taking a seat at one of the tables near the exit and looking around suspiciously. Reno recognized him immediately from the photo in his file… though he was still a little surprised as just how much the guy had aged in the last couple of years. It was far more apparent in person than it was in his photo. He was only seven or eight years older than the redhead, but the guy almost looked like he was in his forties, and the years had not been kind.

Back in the day, Alvin had been a gangly, unwashed, greasy-haired junkie. Now, he was a gangly, unwashed, greasy-haired junkie with a nasty-looking scar down the side of his face and a rather pronounced limp. He had a twitchy, spastic way of moving, even while sitting down, and even from across the room, Reno could see the dark circles marring the papery skin under his eyes.

Rude nodded to him and got up to go talk to him, leaving the redhead at the bar. Reno turned slightly in his seat so that he had a good view of both his fellow-Turk and the door.

He thought back to his Slum days. Like he’d told Rude, he’d never known Alvin real well. Just had a tendency to bump into the guy every so often when he, too, was paying a visit to Kel’s place. Usually to restock his cigarettes and to take a look at whatever else happened to be on offer that week, but occasionally just because Kel was a fun guy to hang out with. At first he’d felt a little sorry for the son of a bitch. After all… it was hard to kick a habit like his in a place like Two. Hell, most junkies didn’t bother to try. For some people, being stoned out of their minds for as many hours of the day as they could afford was preferable to the reality of the sector.

And then one day, he’d brought his kid with him. Ten year old little girl. Because he didn’t fucking have cash. Kel had turned him down flat, and to his credit had looked as disgusted with the proposal as Reno had been…

Logically, the redhead knew it was pure desperation from the withdrawal. He could understand it… but he couldn’t in a million years condone it. And though he was still of the opinion that Alvin was at least halfway decent guy when sober, Reno’d lost all sympathy for him that day. His own mom might not have been mother of the year… but she did everything she could to keep him away from shit like that, even at times when it probably would have been a lot easier to just drag him along anyway. And even at her most desperate, she’d certainly never tried to sell him.

He’d still ended up seeing a lot more than he should’ve… but at least she’d tried.

He wondered, briefly, what had happened to Alvin’s kid. Probably strung out somewhere in the slums by now, just like her old man typically was. Either that, or working a street corner. Or both. She’d never stood a chance.

Though, to be fair, Reno’s own odds had never exactly been great and somehow he’d managed to survive childhood. By all rights, he probably ought to have been laying dead in a gutter a long time ago. So maybe the kid had lucked out, somehow, same as him.

Alvin sure as fuck hadn’t, though. Reno’d seen that kind of twitching enough as a kid to recognize it as a trait common to long-term users. The ones who had to be high almost all the damn time to just avoid withdrawal setting in. Which certainly explained the man’s willingness to turn Turk informant. It was a job that might get you killed or worse if the wrong person found out… but damned if it didn’t pay well.

“Hey, Wilfred,” Reno said, quietly. “Outta curiosity… you ever thought about makin’ an extra gil or two rattin’ some of your regulars out to Shinra?”

The barman snorted. “I do that, ‘n my regulars ain’t gonna be regulars no more.”

The redhead snickered and turned his attention back on Rude. “Yeah… figured as much.”

The pair seemed to have reached an agreement of some sort. Rude calmly passed Alvin a envelope that Reno knew contained around two hundred gil and a burner phone. The junkie shoved it into the pocket of his hoodie and nodded, and then hurried over to the door with several paranoid glances around the room before taking off. Rude rejoined his partner at the bar a moment later.

“All good?” Reno asked.

“Yeah. Ready to head home?”

The redhead grinned and picked up the now half-empty bowl of peanuts from the bar, tipping the entire thing into his mouth.

“Yup,” he managed to say around the rather large mouthful. Wilfred snorted, annoyed.

“You know… those are s’posed to be for the payin’ customers.”

Reno swallowed roughly, forcing his little snack down, and smirked. “Only ’cause you think makin’ ’em extra thirsty’ll get ’em to buy more.” He pulled a ten gil note from his pocket and tossed it on the bar. “I’ll come back some time for that free round. Long as it’s something a little stronger than water, next time. Deal?”

Wilfred snatched the bill and pocketed it with a grin. “Any time, kiddo,” he laughed.

---

Tseng crouched beside a pile of scrap, watching the girl from afar. He’d been prepared to question the locals, but by sheer force of luck had all but walked right into her as she was emerging from a church. He was certain it was her, and though he’d been careful not to betray his surprise at locating one of his targets with such ease, she seemed concerned as she’d made her way past him. As he tailed her, she would pause and peer back over her shoulder now and then, as if she knew someone was following just out of sight.

He was tempted to simply grab her now, rather than risk losing her entirely if she panicked and made a run for it. She was a little thing… probably not able to outrun a full grown man, but easily capable of losing one by flitting in and out of the towering scrap heaps. Besides… her mother was also a priority target and with any luck, the girl would lead him straight to her if he was patient.

So he held back. Eventually, the girl relaxed, apparently having convinced herself that she was alone now. He trailed behind her silently… much farther back than he normally would have. She seemed to tense up again when he drew too close.

He supposed that made an odd sort of sense, given who she allegedly was. If you believed in that sort of thing. According to her file, Aerith and her mother, Ifalna, were descended from a race called the Ancients… or the Cetra, depending on who you asked. There were Wutaiian legends about them dating back centuries, that spoke of a people so closely in tune with the Planet that they could actually speak to it. It was a commonly held belief, among those who even remembered them at all, that the Ancients had died out long ago. There weren’t supposed to be any more left. But if Shinra’s research was correct – and assuming the legends really were,in fact, more than just legends – these two shared that ancient bloodline. They were, quite likely, the last of their kind.

It didn’t take him long to figure out where Aerith was heading. And frankly, Tseng was more than a little surprised when he saw the house just sitting there like some sort of oasis in the ruins of the slums. It looked like it might have, once upon a time, been a farm house… which would make sense, given that a significant part of Midgar had been constructed over top what used to be fairly rich farmland. It was a small, two story cottage with a red roof and large, triangular upstairs windows that looked out across what was probably once a field. A picket fence lined the bank of a small pond with astonishingly clear water. It must have been fed by an underground spring or something… typically ponds in the slums were stagnant and wholly unpleasent.

But perhaps most surprising of all were the flowers. There were hundreds of them, growing in pots… growing from the ground… lining the small balcony of the house and its rooftop. Bright yellow flowers, blooming unassumingly in the Slums.

Tseng carefully made his way towards the house, intending to peer through one of the windows and see if the mother was there as well. If not, he’d have to wait for her to return. Unfortunately, the moment he reached the front, the door was thrown open wide. A woman stepped out, menacingly brandishing a rolling pin and glaring openly at him.

“What do you think you’re doing, following my daughter and skulking around my home?” she demanded.

Tseng backed off a few steps, raising his hands placatingly. Her daughter? Yes, the girl was older than in her file photograph from the Shinra labs, but he was absolutely certain it was Aerith. This, however, definitely was not Ifalna. He was going to have to be very careful what he told this woman.

“My name is Tseng,” he began, “Shinra Company sent me to find a girl named Aerith.”

---

“Well, that was… uneventful,” Reno sighed as he and Rude meandered through the streets of Sector 3. He’d kind of hoped that his first mission as a full Turk might have been a little more exciting. Instead, he was basically playing bodyguard to Rude… who needed a bodyguard like he needed a hole in the head.

The bald Turk snickered. “Tres always says the best kind of mission is the one where you ‘stay the fuckin’ hell outta trouble’.”

Reno laced his fingers behind his head as he walked, and grinned back at him. “Yeah, yeah… I know. Nothin’ wrong with gettin’ home in one piece. Wouldn’t mind a little excitement, though. Seems like every assignment I’ve been on lately’s gone basically a hundred percent accordin’ to plan. Well… aside from the helicopter thing. And the shit that went down in Kalm. But other than that, I haven’t been shot at in weeks!” he joked.

“You can be my practice dummy on the firing range this afternoon, if you want someone to shoot at you that badly…” Rude teasingly offered.

“Yeah… pass,” the redhead laughed. He sighed and glanced upwards at the Plate above them, “I s’pose you’re right, though. Dyin’ of boredom beats dyin’ of a bullet to the head. It just makes me… I dunno. Nervous, I guess. Like if things are this calm right now, it’s gotta mean something big is brewin’.”

Rude shrugged. “Or maybe we’re just finally getting a break. You heard Veld this morning. The war is practically over. At this point, it’s mostly just a bunch of formalities. The actual fighting in Wutai has already stopped, and if it’s stopped there, what would be the point of them sending more mercs here?”

“Believe me… I’m hopin’ that’s the case. I don’t wanna see any more of Midgar get shot up or blown up any time soon. Just… got a naggin’ feeling that it’s not really gonna be over ’til it’s officially over. Ya know?”

The other Turk nodded. “… I know.” He suddenly smirked. “I think getting promoted makes Turks more paranoid.”

“Tch… says the guy who already spends half his day watching security cameras. Even before he got promoted,” the redhead snickered.

---

The woman was still glowering at him, though at the mention of Shinra Company, he detected a faint spark of fear in her eyes. Hesitantly, she invited him inside with a sweep of her arm. The girl, at hearing her name, scrambled up behind her, peering out at him from behind her… mother’s?… skirt. That was certainly how the girl seemed to regard her, at any rate. Had something happened to Ifalna?

It was more than possible. She was thought to have been injured during their escape… and even if she hadn’t been, the Slums were a dangerous place for someone who had never so much as visited them before. She would have been easy prey for thieves or one of the local gangs. Or perhaps she’d simply found a safe place and someone to care for her daughter and disappeared, hoping to keep Shinra off their trail…

“We… would like you to return Aerith to us,” Tseng carefully continued. “We’ve been searching for her for a very long time.”

“No!” Aerith shouted, in a surprisingly loud voice. “Never!”

Tseng shook his head and knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with the girl.

“Aerith, you’re a very special child. You are of special blood. Your real mother was an ‘Ancient’,” he said, keeping his voice calm and soothing. It was much the same tone he’d always used when breaking bad news to Mayu. Aerith, however, was having none of it. He turned his attention on the woman again. “The Ancients were said to have the ability to speak the the Planet. They knew of a land of supreme happiness. That is why the Shinra would like Aerith’s cooperation… We believe she can bring that happiness to everyone in Midgar. Even those who live in the Slums.”

It was a load of shit, and knew it, but he did his best to sell it. In reality, he didn’t really know what Shinra – or perhaps more specifically, Hojo – wanted the girl and her mother for. He was only privy to bits and pieces of their files. Enough that he knew they were integral to the Neo-Midgar Project, which, in turn, was to be a massive undertaking. A second Midgar, even grander than the first. How and why it involved Aerith and Ifalna was classified above his security clearance.

Still… the story sounded nice. Aerith turned to the woman, and sniffled softly.

“He’s wrong! I’m not an Ancient! I’m not!” she declared, and then fled out the door. Tseng sighed. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to do this the hard way. Though perhaps there was still a chance at smoothing things over.

“May I ask… what’s your relation to the girl?” he queried.

“I’m her mother,” the woman replied, sharply, “Or as good as she’s got, anyway. Elmyra Gainsborough.”

“And… Ifalna? Her birth mother? What became of her?”

Elmyra looked away. “She was hurt when I met her. Bad. She pleaded with me to take Aerith somewhere safe. So I brought her home, to live with me.” She suddenly looked up at him, tears forming in her eyes. “Please… don’t take her. My husband died in the war. We never had children. Aerith is all I have.”

“I… am afraid that I’m under orders to return her to headquarters,” Tseng replied, though the words left a foul taste in his mouth.

“I can’t stop you, can I?” Elmyra said with a quiet sob. “You’ll just kill me and take her anyway, if I try. Won’t you. That’s what you Turks do, isn’t it?”

“I would very much prefer not to have to resort to such measures… both for your sake and for hers. A child shouldn’t have to see that. But yes. I will be taking the girl, with or without your consent. And if you try to prevent that… I will stop you by whatever means are necessary.”

“May I… at least pack some things for her and say goodbye?”

Tseng swallowed sharply. The pain and loss was clearly etched on the woman’s face, and he felt truly vile for doing this. But if he didn’t, someone else would. And they might not be quite as… cordial… next time.

“Alright,” he replied, at last. “But quickly. I’ll wait with her outside. You have my word that we won’t leave until you return.”

She nodded, and wiped her eyes. “Thank you,” Elmyra breathed, before turning and hurrying up the stairs.

Tseng shook his head and stepped outside, eyes scanning his surroundings as he did so. He had little trouble spotting the girl again. She was crouched beside a patch of flowers in the sprawling garden. The Turk walked towards her, slowly, so as not to startle her. When he reached her side, he knelt down again.

“Are you going to take me away?” she asked.

“Yes,” Tseng replied. Aerith vehemently shook her head.

“I don’t want to go! Why are you so mean?!”

She looked up at him, anger, sadness, and perhaps more than a little fear all flicking across her face, and Tseng found that he couldn’t meet her eye for more than a second or two. Her gaze was too accusing. Too… pleading.

Too much like Mayu.

“… You’re hurting.” It was a statement, not a question. When Tseng raised his eyes again, Aerith was still looking at him, but this time with… sympathy, perhaps? That, too, was like Mayu. His sister always knew when something was wrong. Always.

And in that moment, he knew that he couldn’t do this.

“Aerith. If… I were to leave you here, would you promise to stay here?” he asked, pointedly avoiding answering her.

What in the Nine Hells was he doing? He had his orders. The girl belonged to Shinra. He couldn’t leave her here, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Why?” she asked, quizzically.

So he wouldn’t have to do this. So he could protect her. If she was here… no one would continue to look for her here. Because he would tell them he’d already looked. The intel was sketchy at best, anyway. No one would so much as blink if he said it hadn’t panned out.

If… he lied.

Dear Leviathan, he was seriously considering lying, not just to Shinra, but to his own mentor. Disobeying orders, and lying about it. All for the sake of a little girl he didn’t even know.

“The why doesn’t matter. Promise me that, and you can stay.”

Aerith studied him for a moment… and even though he knew it had to be impossible, he could have sworn he saw a look of understanding in her eyes.

“I promise,” she replied, and plucked one of the flowers from her garden, pressing it into his hand.

It felt… as though a weight had been suddenly lifted from him and he realized that this was as much for him as it was for her. It was an atonement of sorts. There was something special about this girl… just as there had been something special about his sister. He had failed to protect Mayu. Perhaps this was fate’s way of allowing him to make up for that.

Tseng nodded and got to his feet, and began walking back towards the house, just as Elmyra was stepping through the door with a small bag in hand.

“She won’t be needing that,” he said, pausing just long enough to register the look of confusion on the woman’s face before turning and heading back out into Sector 5 proper.

---

Reno flopped down onto the hard plastic bench seat of the train to the Sector 5 Plate, and folded his arms behind his head as Rude moved to join him.

“Man, forget what I said earlier. This is my kinda mission. In, out, ‘n home by lunchtime.”

Rude snorted a soft laugh. “What happened to Mr. somethin’ big’s gotta be brewin’?”

“He got hungry,” the redhead replied, grinning. “An empty stomach always trumps paranoia. It’s a known fact.”

Rude rolled his eyes and sat down next to his friend.

“Is that you’re ever so subtle way of saying you want to stop and grab something to eat before we head back to the office?”

“Was I bein’ subtle?” Reno queried, “Yeah, sorry… Must be the hunger talkin’. What I meant to say was I’m fuckin’ starvin’. Let’s get a pizza.”

“Is there any chance that might be an open invitation?” a familiar voice asked, and both newly minted Turks jumped, startled. Reno spun around in his seat and found Tseng standing directly behind him.

“For Ifrit’s sake… I’m not even safe from this shit on public transportation,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Hang on… what are you doin’ here? You’re not checkin’ up on us or some shit, are ya, Boss?”

Tseng slipped around the end of the bench, and took a seat beside his former rookie.

“No, actually… I’m not,” the Turk lieutenant, “I had intended to save the news for the afternoon briefing, but, as I have so fortuitously stumbled upon you both, I’ll tell you now. I’ve… been officially reinstated. With some minor caveats. Veld opted to send me on a rather mundane and uneventful reconnaissance mission in Sector 5 to start out with.”

Reno grinned widely. “So… you’re back?”

The Wutaiian Turk chuckled softly. “Yes… It would seem that I am, indeed, back.”

The redhead’s grin widened, and he turned to his partner. “Forget the pizza… we gotta go somewhere ‘n celebrate! Like… the all you can eat buffet over in One!”

Rude smirked and glanced over at Tseng. “Hope you were planning on an extra long lunch, sir…”

~end chapter 94~