Desha's Reno of the Turks Fan Fiction

Chapter 38: A Visit to Mideel

“So you’ve been to Mideel before, right, partner?” Reno asked. He circled a wide expanse of green, checking that it was safe to land. Satisfied that they weren’t going to have any issues, he eased the aircraft downward, setting them on the ground with a soft bump.

“Couple of times,” Rude replied, his voice sounding oddly far away over the headset. Reno made a mental note to mention that to vehicle maintenance when they got back. The headsets weren’t great even on a good day, as loud as the cockpit could get at times. The last thing they needed was the sound quality going completely to shit. He shut down the engines and the older Turk hurried to unstrap himself, tossing the offending earphones back onto their hook. “Think I still have an aunt living here somewhere.”

Reno raised an eyebrow as he, too, released himself from his safety harness.

“You think you have an aunt?”

Rude shrugged. “Only ever met her once. She was Mom’s sister. They had some big fight when I was little and never spoke again. Didn’t even come to the funeral.”

“Wow,” Reno replied, a little surprised. “Musta been a hell of a fight…”

The bald Turk shrugged again and didn’t elaborate. Reno took that as a sign that his friend didn’t want to talk about it. Or maybe just that he didn’t have anything else to say on the matter. After all, if he didn’t know anything about her, there wasn’t exactly a whole lot to talk about.

“So… is it always so hot here?” he asked, changing the subject. He hadn’t even had time to move yet, and he could already feel the sweat starting to bead on his forehead. Rude snickered and started towards the town a short walk from their landing site.

“You think it’s hot now, just wait until summer’s in full swing… Gets almost as warm as Costa del Sol. Only sticky and miserable for weeks on end.”

“Sounds pleasant…” the redhead snorted.

“The rest of the year’s not so bad, though, from what I’ve heard,” Rude added, “Mild winters, cool in the fall, wet in the spring. Kind of like the southern part of Wutai, but without the mountain ranges… and a whole lot more humidity this time of year.”

They made their way into town, and Rude paused, looking around. “Think it’s this way,” he said, heading south down the main road. Reno trailed along behind him taking in the sights. It was early yet, and the town seemed to still be sleeping, for the most part. A few businesses looked to be preparing to open for the day, but other than their proprietors, there were few people out on the street.

It was a cozy little village, though, stretching from the edge of the interior forest to the southern shoreline. He’d seen a number of docks as they’d arrived, largely empty, though he’d spotted a few small boats heading out to sea, so the rest had probably simply left earlier.

“Heh… so where do they make that whiskey they’re so famous for?” the redhead teasingly asked. He still hadn’t opened the bottle Rufus had gifted him. He wasn’t sure why. It just seemed… too special to waste. He wanted to save it for something really once in a lifetime… because if the rumors about the stuff were true, he’d probably never get his hands on another bottle. Maybe on his next birthday… when he was finally legally allowed to drink and could ditch the fake IDs once and for all. Or maybe… when the team celebrated Tseng taking over for Veld? That’d be a hell of a special occasion, and he doubted either senior Turk would turn down the offer.

Whatever. He’d know when the time came to finally crack it open. Until then, he was happy to let it remain in a place of pride in his growing collection of spirits. The good stuff… the really good stuff… was best saved for just the right moment.

Rude grinned and shook his head. “Not around here. The distillery’s up north in Banora… where they grow the Banora Whites.”

Reno snickered quietly and he quickened his pace to catch up to his friend. “Ya mean the dumbapples?”

“Yeah, those,” Rude confirmed with a snorted laugh at the more common name for the odd little fruit.

“So’s it true they really just show up at random?”

“Apparently,” the other Turk shrugged, “They say there’s no rhyme or reason to when the trees bear fruit. It just happens whenever the hell they feel like it.”

“… Weird.”

“This is it,” Rude noted, pausing in front of a small cafe. Reno raised an eyebrow.

“Thought we were here to meet with the Mideelian Historical Society.”

“We are. Head of the society also runs this place. They don’t really have a headquarters, or anything. They just meet here.”

The redhead followed him through the outdoor seating area and into the building. A number of ceiling fans spun lazily in the quiet dining room, banishing the worst of the morning heat. The soft breeze they created felt unmistakably pleasant against his skin as he and Rude seated themselves at one of the empty tables. A handful of other early risers were scattered throughout the space, drinking coffee or enjoying breakfast before their days got started.

“What kin I get yeh lads,” a friendly voice boomed. Reno glanced up at the boisterous, rotund woman that had bounded up to their table within seconds of them sitting down, notepad in hand, ready to take their order. “We’re havin’ a special taday on dumbapple eggy bread ‘n coffee.”

“We’re actually here to speak with Melinda,” Rude said before Reno had a chance to respond.

“Ah, right! Yeh must be the one lookin’ inta the Kingsword. That’d be me, then,” she said, smiling, “Let me just take care o’ a couple ‘o things, ‘n we’ll sit down fer a nice chat. Yeh sure I can’t getcha anythin’ while yeh wait?”

Rude shook his head. “… Just a glass of water, please.” He glanced over at the redhead and snickered. “Pretty sure he’ll eat, though.”

Reno rolled his eyes at the teasing, but otherwise ignored it. It wasn’t like Rude was wrong, after all.

“I’ll try that special…” he replied.

“Comin’ right up, love,” Melinda happily replied. With that, she hurried away to check on another customer, before slipping into the kitchen in the back.

“Hey, so… what’s eggy bread, anyway?” Reno asked. Rude shook his head.

“Why’d you order it if you don’t even know what it is?” he chuckled.

“It sounded good,” the redhead shrugged.

“You really will eat anything, won’t you?”

“Long as it’s food…” Reno grinned. “So… what they hell’d I order?”

“It’s a kind of toast, more or less. You scramble an egg or two, soak slices of bread in it, and fry it. Then you add whatever toppings or sauce. Can be served savory or sweet. Guessing sweet if it’s got apples.”

“That… sounds really fuckin’ good right now.”

Rude simply sighed, and rolled his eyes.

“Hey… don’t gimme that look. You’re just as into food as I am,” Reno said, accusingly.

“Yeah… but I like to actually taste mine…” the old Turk teased, “Not just inhale one plate and move on to the next.”

“I’m not that bad…” the redhead declared. In response, Rude merely stared him down. “… Okay, maybeI am that bad. I can’t help it, man… I’m always hungry. My body’s just weird like that.”

Rude snorted softly. “You’re just weird in general,” he said, jokingly.

“Hey!” Reno laughed. “Anyway… food aside, I could definitely use another coffee right now, considerin’ you made me get up at the asscrack of dawn to get here.”

Rude snickered softly and leaned back in his chair. “That’s going to be interesting…”

The redhead raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“You’ve never had Mideelian coffee, have you?” he replied, grinning back at the redhead somewhat smugly.

“Coffee’s coffee,” Reno said.

“Hmph… Coffee, for you, is about seventy-five percent sugar. You’ll notice there isn’t any on the table.”

The redhead blinked and his gaze immediately snapped to the little collection of condiments in the center of the table. There were the usual staples – salt, pepper, ketchup, mustard – and a couple of not-so-usual ones – one of which was simply labeled “brown sauce” – but no sugar.

“Umm…”

“They don’t put sugar in it,” Rude clarified, an amused expression crossing his face. “It’s also really strong, and kind of on the bitter side.”

Reno mentally groaned. He… didn’t really like bitter. Not that it would stop him from drinking it, but there was a reason he added so much sugar to his coffee back home. Well… technically, there were two reasons. The sugar gave the caffeine an extra punch. Finally, though, he shrugged.

“Whatever. Still gotta be better than that pond water Tseng drinks…”

He didn’t get the appeal of tea. It tasted pretty much like exactly what it was. Hot water that had had some leaves soaking in it. It really was like drinking pond water that had been collected on a particularly warm day. Rude simply shook his head and chuckled.

“… Hey,” the redhead said, somewhat hesitantly. “When we’re done here, ya mind if we take a little detour before we find somewhere to stay for the night? I… kinda wanna… ya know… go pay my respects while we’re in Mideel. Feels wrong to be here ‘n not. ‘Specially since we could only make it to the memorial back in Midgar…”

“… Was thinking the same thing myself,” the bald Turk replied.

“Any idea where it is?” Reno asked, and Rude shook his head.

“No… but the locals’ll know. They keep track of that sort of thing. Ancestry’s big around here. Ask just about anyone how they’re related to anyone else, and they’ll tell you down to where one side of the family married into the other,” he snickered, “Shouldn’t be too hard to find a grave.”

Reno nodded and sighed. “I really miss that nutjob…” he said softly, “Office has been way too quiet.”

“Want me to set off a grenade or two when we get back?” the old Turk gently teased, and the redhead laughed quietly.

“Better not. Remy’ll kill ya. And I’ve been to enough funerals lately.”

---

The elevator pinged faintly as it arrived on the Turks’ floor, and the doors slid open… only to reveal a very displeased-looking Kai. Tseng was stopped short in his bid to step aboard the car as she stormed out into the hallway, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“How could you?!” the diminutive Turk demanded, furiously. The Turks’ second in command slowly raised his hands in surrender as she backed him up against the wall.

“I apologize… but it was planned well before you decided to reschedule your training session with the rookies. There was nothing I could do.”

“Nothing you could do?! You could have told me when Hell Week was starting, you asshole! I could have put the rookies’ survival course off another week, you know…” She glared at him. “I’d better not have missed anything good, Tseng…”

The Wutaiian Turk edged away from her accusatory finger. “Calm down… We’ve hardly even begun. Sykes has only had the panic response evaluation and a hand to hand exercise, thus far. You haven’t missed anything of consequence.”

His response seemed to mollify his friend somewhat, and Kai grudgingly backed down.

“In fact…” he added, smiling slightly, “Reno is out of the city on assignment, and I could use a hand with today’s testing. If you’re interested…”

Kai narrowed her eyes. “If you’re trying to get back in my good graces by bribing me…” she hissed, staring him down, before her face suddenly split into a wide grin, “… it’s totally working. What’d you have in mind?”

Tseng snickered and moved towards the elevator, pressing the button again to recall it to their floor. “Something that will almost certainly make you forgive me entirely for failing to inform you of my timetable,” he replied, smirking.

---

Reno had to resist the urge to moan in pleasure.

It was fucking amazing. It was soft and chewy… and at the same time a little bit crunchy around the edges. And it was slathered in some sort of warm, gooey, apple-y goodness… kind of like pie filling. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever tasted. Could a person taste beauty? He was pretty well convinced that he could…

He heard a smothered laugh from across the table and glanced up.

“What?”

Rude snorted softly. “You’re looking at that plate like a man who hasn’t seen food in days…”

“Rude… pal… this stuff is incredible. You, uh… think she’d give me the recipe?” he queried, and his friend laughed outright this time, shaking his head.

“What would you do with a recipe?” he teased, “… besides maybe burn down half your block, I mean.”

“Geez… ya set one kitchen on fire…” the redhead snickered. “But, I mean… you’d make it for me. Right?”

The older Turk grinned and snatched the fork out of his friend’s hand, stealing a bite of the dish and returning the utensil before he even had a chance to complain.

“Suppose I could…” he replied, “Or… I could teach you how to cook without turning everything in a ten foot radius into a raging inferno. Probably be doing the city a favor… by eliminating its biggest fire hazard.”

The younger Turk rolled his eyes, but smiled. He was used to the teasing. Hell, he’d more than earned his reputation as an outright menace in the kitchen, and even though he’d improved a bit since the ‘kitchen incident’, as everyone tended to refer to his accidental immolation of Rude’s stovetop, he was under no illusion that he actually knew what the fuck he was doing. Not that he wouldn’t have minded learning… He’d just never found the time. It was a hell of a lot easier to just order pizza or something.

Further discussion had to be put on hold for the time being, however, as the cafe’s proprietress made her way back over to their table, smiling broadly, and took a seat.

“There we are, then,” she said, happily, “That should keep the regulars quiet fer a wee bit. Now… about the Kingsword…”

“How long have you been trying to get it back from Dio?” Rude asked, switching into professional mode. Melinda huffed and shook her head.

“E’re since that bloody bastard bought it out from under us in the first place, six years ago. The Historical Society had a deal ta purchase it from the sleazy little arsehole who unearthed it. Didnae want ta give ‘im so much as a gil, but… he was technically in the right. Found it on land he had a legal claim ta. So we worked out a price… ‘n then Dio swoops in ‘n outbids us three times over! Couldnae even match it, much less beat it. Son of bitch sold it ta him instead o’ us. That sword’s part o’ Mideel’s history. It ought ta be here, not in some Titan-be-damned amusement park museum… ‘n now come ta find out someone’s gone ‘n walked off with it. ‘Tis a bloody shame.”

“I take it Dio was never interested in selling?” the bald Turk asked, making a note of something in the field book he’d brought along for this interview.

“Nah… ‘n believe me we tried. Got donations from all over Mideel… held fundraisers here in town fer a wee bit more. We squeezed out e’ry last gil we could. Wouldnae take it. Said it was his ‘prize display piece’ ‘n he wouldnae part with it fer anything.”

Rude frowned thoughtfully. “Has anyone ever approached you with an offer to get it back for you?”

Melinda hesitated a moment, before nodding. “Aye… Few months back. I’m shamed ta admit ta it, but I gave very serious consideration ta takin’ ‘im up on the offer fer a wee bit there. But the thought of stealin’ it didnae sit right with me… or with the other members o’ the Society.. We’d have it back… but we’d have ta hide it away again or risk havin’ the law or worse sent after us. History should be out there where people can see it. Touch it. Not packed away in a crate.”

“Wutaiian guys? Kinda on the dangerous lookin’ side?” Reno asked, but Melinda shook her head.

“No, no… It was only the one fella. Definitely not Wutaiian. Had a wee bit o’ a Costan accent, actually. Bit muddled, though, like he’d been livin’ somewhere else fer quite awhile. Had a tattoo on one arm, too. Mighta been military o’ some sort. Uncle o’ mine had somethin’ like it ‘n he was Shinra Materia Corps back in the day.”

The redhead glanced over at Rude, who raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He could tell that his friend was thinking the same thing he was… that they may have just stumbled across their theoretical middle man. Someone who was actively seeking out clients who wanted these weapons, hiring the Zenshou to actually do the dirty work and obtain them, and probably keeping the difference between their fee and whatever the clients were paying for himself.

“Did he give you any way to contact him?” Rude inquired.

“Nope. N’er even told us his name. Said it was a one time offer ‘n if we changed out minds, we were outta luck. Havenae seen him again since we turned ‘im down.”

Rude nodded. “I see. If he does happen to contact you, let me know.”

“Aye, I will,” she replied. “Yeh’ll… eh… try ‘n get the Kingsword back, won’t yeh? I’m none too fond o’ Dio havin’ his grubby wee mitts on it but… I s’pose it’s better off on display at the Gold Saucer than Titan only knows where.”

“If we track these thieves down, anything we find will be returned to its owners,” the bald Turk replied.

“Well, I s’pose that’ll have ta do, then,” Melinda sighed.

---

Syke’s all but ran into the Turks’ lounge, slamming the door behind him and leaning his full weight against it. For a few moments, he simply stood there, eyes shut tight, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

“What in Leviathan’s name are you doing?” a voice queried. The rookie’s eyes shot open, and it was all he could do to contain the yelp of surprise that threatened to escape.

“Don’t do that!” he hissed in a loud whisper. Remy raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t comment. Sykes’ flushed in embarrassment. “S-sorry, ma’am. It’s just…”

“Hell Week,” Remy finished for him, with a faint nod of understanding before turning her attention back on the intelligence report she’d been reading through. “You can’t hide from it, you know. Tseng will find you, eventually.”

“He already did,” Sykes muttered, finally stepping away from the door and wandering over to the couch by the windows. He dropped onto the cushions with a soft thump, flinching slightly as his battered backside protested. “He and Kai rigged the gauntlet so that I had to pick a bunch of locks in order to get out of the shooting gallery. It took me almost twenty minutes. I’m gonna be so bruised in the morning…” He glanced over at the senior Turk. “Er… you haven’t seen Liam and Petra today, have you, ma’am? I thought that since Kai’s back, they must be, too…”

“They’re on a training assignment with Veld today. You won’t be seeing much of them this week, I’m afraid. After all… we can’t have their Hell Weeks spoiled for them.”

Sykes’ groaned and let his head flop back against the couch. Great. It was only Day Two. He had to get through all of Hell Week without his friends for support? There was no way in hell he was going to make it…

“I’m gonna die…” he moaned, sinking down deeper into the forgiving softness of the couch.

“You’re not going die,” Remy calmly stated, rolling her eyes.

“… Then I’m gonna have a nervous breakdown…”

To his surprise, the senior Turk laughed softly. Remy was usually the most serious of the team. She almost never laughed. At least, not in public…

“Hmm… now that is entirely possible,” she replied, smiling in amusement. “Look… Just take things as they come and focus on getting through the task at hand. Don’t bother worrying about what comes after that until you have to. You’ll get through this. Everyone does.”

“… Are you sure?” Sykes asked, “Because I’m not entirely convinced that, somewhere out there, there’s a secret society of former rookie Turks who have all been driven insane by the nightmare that is Hell Week…”

Remy shook her head and got up, walking over to the coffee maker and pouring herself a fresh cup.

“To my knowledge, no Turk has ever gone insane due to Hell Week,” she said, and then smirked as she gathered up her files and headed for the door. “… Though Reno was very nearly fired during his. When he gets back from Mideel, you should ask him about that. If he could survive Hell Week, so can you.”

“W-wait… what?!” he stammered, eyes widening in horror, but Remy had already slipped out into the hallway and started back towards her own office. Sykes shook his head. She… she was just saying that to scare him. Right? Reno was really, really respected by… well, pretty much everyone. No way he’d messed up one of his evaluations so bad he’d almost gotten fired over it.

He shut his eyes again, wishing his fellow rookies were here… even if it was just for moral support. Or, barring that, Reno himself. The redhead was becoming something of an unofficial mentor to Liam since he’d started taking a more active roll in the rookies’ training, and all three of them found him to be, by far, the easiest of the senior Turks to talk to. Plus, he always seemed to have good advice. If nothing else, now Sykes wanted to ask him about his own Hell Week.

Sykes sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, biting back yet another groan of frustration and terror. He didn’t care what Remy said. If he was still sane by the end of this, it would be a miracle.

---

Reno gazed silently down at the freshly carved stone marker, and the nearly identical one next to it, swallowing sharply. He’d never been a particularly big fan the graveyard back in Sector 2… As it turned out, the one in Mideel was no different, save for the heat of the sun beating down on it late in the afternoon.

Rude was kneeling down beside the older of the two graves, setting a small bouquet of flowers at the base of the stone. The redhead smirked slightly and reached into his jacket, extracting a small, rounded object, and placed it on the more recent addition. His friend snorted softly.

“Really?” he said, rolling his eyes at the sight of the grenade, “You’re just gonna leave that there?”

“Ah, it’s just a smoke bomb,” Reno said, with a shrug, “Won’t hurt anything even if it does somehow go off. Figured Sato’d appreciate that more than flowers.”

The older Turk snorted and stood up.

“Don’t think Saya’d entirely approve,” he pointed out. Reno laughed softly.

“I dunno… She only really got pissed when he did somethin’ stupid. When it was just harmless fun, she was always laughin’ right along with him.” He sighed almost inaudibly and turned back to the gravestones. “Hey… Rude?”

“Yeah?”

“You think there’s anything after this?”

“Hmph… besides a four hour flight back to Midgar in the morning?” Rude teased.

“Not what I meant ‘n you know it…” Reno said, with a pronounced roll of his eyes. The other Turk only shrugged.

“No idea. I’d like to think there is, at least.”

“Yeah. That’s kinda what I’m afraid of. I mean… is there really some kinda afterlife? Or is that just some kinda bullshit we tell ourselves to make us less terrified of kickin’ the bucket?”

Rude leaned over and wrapped an arm around his friend. “Only one way to find out for sure… and personally, I’m not in any hurry.”

“… I hope there is,” Reno said softly. “I hate that they’re gone… but I wanna believe they’re together again now. Somewhere. They deserve that much, at least.” The redhead relaxed somewhat as his friend’s grip on him tightened, and he smiled faintly. “We should probably get back to town. We got one more meeting, right?”

“Not for another hour,” Rude replied. “We can stay awhile longer if you want.”

Reno shook his head and glanced up at him. “Nah… We did what we came here to do.” He smirked slightly. “‘Sides… Sato’d be pissed if we spent all our down time mopin’ around a graveyard on his account. Last thing we need’s a crazy-ass ghost with an obsession with shit that blows up pissed off at us…”

Rude snorted in laughter. “You do have a point there…” he chuckled.

---

Tseng stifled a yawn as he settled himself behind his desk… and tried very hard to ignore the constant scrutiny he was under as he finished up his notes on Sykes’ most recent exercise. After a few minutes, however, it proved impossible.

“Don’t you have an assignment you’re meant to be handling?” he sighed. Kai grinned back at him from the opposite side of the desk.

“Nope. Finished it an hour ago,” she replied. “Soooo… When’s –”

“Kai, I swear to Leviathan… if you don’t stop asking me when the next evaluation is, I’m going to cancel the rest of Hell Week just to spite you,” the Turk lieutenant groaned, roughly pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d never fully understood his friend’s obsession with the tradition… but in recent years, it had become almost fanatical.

The diminutive Turk laughed quietly. “Oh, come on. I can’t be annoying you that much. Besides… Hell Week is a big deal! For everyone… not just the Turk going through it. I love seeing the rookies grow up.”

Tseng couldn’t help but snicker in response. “That’s rather rich, coming from the woman who continues to refer to a twenty-year old Turk who stopped being a rookie two years ago as ‘Baby Turkling’.”

Kai laughed and leaned back in her seat, still grinning from ear to ear.

“My Baby Turkling’s a special case. He really was just a baby when he got here… It’s hard to think of him as all grown up. And it drives him nuts when I call him that, so… bonus,” She giggled quietly to herself. “I guess it’s a habit I really should try and break, though. Especially if he’s going to outrank me someday.”

Tseng raised a questioning eyebrow, and Kai rolled her eyes.

“Oh, give me a break. Like you’re not already training him as the future Second. Come on, Tseng… we all know your little protege’s going to take over for you when Veld decides he’s had enough of Shinra and wants to live out his golden years on a farm or something…”

The Wutaiian Turk, laughed and shook his head. “A farm? Veld? Really, Kai… Between that comment and your increasingly unhealthy obsession with Hell Week, I’m legitimately beginning to question your sanity.”

The senior Turk cackled in response. “What? You can’t picture him wrangling chocobos and milking cows?”

“I could probably picture it… with enough hallucinogens in my system. But even then, I don’t think I’d ever be able to accept it as reality,” he chuckled.

“See, now that’s your problem,” she teasingly chastised him, “No imagination whatsoever. But seriously… you can’t sit there and tell me Reno’s not your pick for Second. Everyone knows it. Hell, I’ve known it since like… his first week on the job.”

Tseng cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “You mean the first week on the job that consisted of a near drowning at the hands of a certain future executive, an arrest for underage drinking, and considerably more bruising than I would have liked courtesy of his unnecessarily early introduction to the gauntlet? That first week?” He snorted softly in amusement. “I’m still rather amazed he didn’t run screaming back to the slums after that week.”

“Aw, he had a good thing going for him and he knew it,” Kai said, and leaned forward, resting her elbows on top of Tseng’s desk and settling her chin on her palms. “He was born for this. As much as I hate stroking that massive ego of yours, you couldn’t have made a better choice.”

“My massive ego thanks you,” Tseng joked. “And yes… I am planning for his eventual promotion. Though I’d prefer you not discuss that with him. Knowing can be… something of a burden. It’s one that I don’t want him to have to bear just yet… particularly given how far off Veld’s retirement likely still is. It could easily be a decade or more before either of us have to worry about that.”

Kai snorted a laugh and smirked. “I think Esme might have something to say about that,” she snickered, and the Turk lieutenant’s smile widened.

“You know… Veld actually said much the same thing when we had this discussion not long ago,” he laughed.

---

Reno leaned back against the outer wall of the building and took a long drag off his cigarette. He exhaled a plume of smoke into the warm night air and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the little island town. He had to admit… Mideel was nice. A little on the humid side, and their coffee was terrible… but nice.

Rude was still chatting with the last of his interviewees. A man named Douglass Farn… proud member of the Mideelian Historical Society, and one of the wealthier individuals in town, apparently. Reno was… doing a little investigating of his own. Something hadn’t sat right with him when they’d met the guy. He’d seemed like he was… maybe not outright lying to them, exactly, but most definitely not telling them quite everything. He was pretty sure Rude had picked up on it, too, because his friend hadn’t so much as batted an eye when the redhead had eventually excused himself and stepped outside, ostensibly for a smoke break.

He just wanted to take a quick look around.

Reno stubbed out his half-finished cigarette and tucked it into a pocket for later. The sun had quite thoroughly set by then, and his stomach kindly informed him that he hadn’t had dinner yet. He pointedly ignored the reminder and wandered away from the property’s main building. Farn’s place was up on a hill just outside of town. Apparently the guy owned the local quarry and made a decently good living from it… because in addition to a pretty nice sized house, his estate consisted of a chocobo stable, a small orchard, and a handful of outbuildings.

He made his way past the stables, and over to one of the larger buildings, peering in through one of the windows. He couldn’t see much in the dark, but it looked to be some sort of workshop. Another building nearby was stocked with bags of vegetables and leafy greens… obviously destined for those pain in the ass chocobos.

The last structure on the property, though, was what he was really interested in. It was tucked back in a stand of trees, all on its own… so hidden away that he’d almost missed it entirely when he and Rude had arrived. Devoid of windows, the only openings in the metal shack were a large overhead door, like you’d find on a garage, and a smaller, person-sized door with a heavy lock on it.

Reno smirked and pulled his lock picks from his pocket.

Hardly twenty seconds later, he was inside. He could feel the sweat as it began dripping down his back almost as soon as he stepped through the door. The place was like an oven in the Mideelian heat, and even though the sun had set, it was still baking inside. He switched on a flashlight, and took stock of his surroundings.

The building looked like it was used, primarily, for storing shit the owner didn’t need anymore. There were stacks of bricks, and other building supplies, various tools, tangled fishing gear, what looked to be old car parts, a truly ancient-looking bicycle… just a random hodgepodge of junk, most of which probably should have been thrown out years ago and all of which seemed to be covered in several years’ worth of dust. He stumbled over a length of copper pipe that had been left lying on the floor, and cringed at the loud clatter it made.

This was a bust. It was just a storage shed. Reno shook his head and moved to head back towards the door. If he hurried back, he might have time to take a look around Farn’s house, as well, before he was missed. As he turned, his shin slammed painfully into a surprisingly sturdy old chair he hadn’t seen in the dark on his way in.

“Son of bitch!” he hissed, staggering to one side as he awkwardly tried to steady himself. He bent down with a groan, rubbing what he was certain was a newly acquired bruise through the fabric of his pantleg. As the pain faded, he glared at the offending piece of furniture and gave it a spiteful kick towards a nearby table, which it struck with a loud, hollow-sounding thunk, before storming off towards the doorway.

A moment later, he froze and turned back.

“Wait a second…” he muttered, retracing his steps. It shouldn’t have made a sound like that. There was something under there. He tugged aside the old sheet that was covering the table… and found a large crate hidden underneath. A suspiciously new-looking, not-dusty-at-all crate. A part of the lid was damaged, and it sat somewhat loosely on top, already having been pried open. Curious, he lifted it up… not quite able to open it all the way thanks to its hiding place, but enough to see inside.

The box itself was filled with what looked like straw. He cautiously stuck a hand inside, feeling around for anything buried underneath… and soon came across the familiar sensation of cool, smooth metal. Reno brushed aside the straw as best he could, wedging himself and his flashlight far enough inside to see what he’d uncovered… and grinned.

“Knew there was somethin’ that guy wasn’t tellin’ us…” he chuckled, as he snapped a quick photo with his phone and hurried to restore things to the way he’d found them.

~end chapter 38~