Final Fantasy VII 1. Prologue

A/N: Honestly, I do not know where this will lead to. All I know is that this probably won't be a fiction filled with pink aprons, flowers and fluffy bunnies. Associating these with the Turks would be just too damn messed up, too strange even for me. Of course, this story will also contain YAOI and thus I warn you all. But yet, the main pairing is still quite foggy in my mind… Hmm.

There aren't enough Yazoo x Reno fics out there, nor Reno x Rufus ones.

**Lukewarm**

_Prologue: Eleven a.m._

* * *

Clouds were darkened and heavy with water onto that cool September night. It forebode a storm; these endless downpours of heavy droplets that were common only to this time of the year. Everyone expected thunder to break over their heads, but it was not how it happened. 

Instead, an heart-wrenching scream tore the skies of Edge, voicing nothing but raw terror and despair. The Turks knew that voice, all of them, and they also knew that nothing should have pushed the girl to let this cry out . It resounded across the air and through the earth. It pierced skin and bones to reach the core of every beings. It nailed them to the spot and caused shivers to run down their spines.

When it finally died out, silence settled back in as a thick suffocating blanket of nothingness. The entire world seemed to have hushed out, or to have partially forgotten about the existence of the remote island the two men stood on.

" Elena!" The shout startled both the red-haired male and his bald partner, their heads turning into the direction of their leader. They turned around in time to catch silky wisps of ebony hair rushing past them before Tseng continued onward through the thick wall of fog; they followed. What could they do? It was what they always did: follow the boss. He had always been the one with a plan in the first place and, with Reno, it was always best to not improvise. That man, although stuck up, was the brain of this team, the one who could think level-headedly into _any_ given situations.

Well, any situations beside this one…

Sane people would have spun on their heel and ran back to hide under their mother's skirt a long time ago; they would have ran for sake of their lives.

However, Turks were not sane people. If one of them was caught up ahead, they would go to help. They helped because no one would; nobody cared for stray dogs. They were their own family and probably the only family they've ever had so abandoning a family member was not an option. And their mad blind run pursued on endlessly, or so it appeared to their smallest member who's daily cigarette dose was quickly catching up onto.

Sometimes, corpses of twisted tree branches would leap before them or solid ground would vanish under deep ponds of stinking stale waters, but they only kept running. Shadows also ghosted that the edges of their vision, lurking and taunting; laughing at their troubled expressions, but never really revealing themselves fully. No matter for how long they kept advancing and how fast they did, the swamps seemed to stretch on and on. At some point, the largest man found himself pausing in front of a certain tree; dark eyes studying the blackened bark and twisted angles of it's trunk from behind the safety of his shaded glasses.

" We already went by here." Rude's gruff voice was an incredibly reassuring presence into this strange and hostile environment, but it also appeared so alien into these grounds. The remaining two came to an abrupt halt, their Asian leader stepping up to the bald man. When his gaze followed the other's, it became obvious that the man had stated the truth.

" What?! How!? We've been running in a damn straight line for twenty minutes!" Fiery red locks profiled themselves through the fog, revealing a slender male who's tempter obviously matched his mane. Both turned back toward the raven-haired one after a moment, silent as they awaited for his judgement. He had to be one to know what to do. The Turk seemed to study every angles of the rotten specimen of vegetation, attaching a particular interest to a thick layer of muddy brown moss.

" We press on, I haven't seen this before." And so they did.

--

Bad News.

Not bad news as in "aww, it's doing to rain tomorrow" bad news, but bad news as in "the world will collapse in thirty second, please kiss your gold fish good bye" bad news.

This particular kind of bad news was what a certain red-headed Turk seemed to be born to announce. Even a single glimpse of these fiery locks truly did not foretold anything good at all. The name of Reno seemed to automatically attached to the one of Jinx or Cataclysm, without forgetting _Apocalypse_.

However, there was yet no world in human language that could characterises a just-out-of-the-bed Reno.

The slouched form of the said creature whose was to blow into the trumpets of doom had currently appeared in the door frame of the coupled kitchen and living room. It was no surprise to observe that the usual Generic White Shirt he seemed to wear on everyday of his existence was crumpled and ruffled, having obviously served as a makeshift pyjamas, only with the brand new addition of two buttons that had miraculously appeared during the night at the bottom left. There were also two lacking at the right top. For the split second where the man's eyes tore away from the boiling container of coffee; which was the convenient re-incarnation of whatever only god the Turk seemed to believe in. It was to be forever worshiped and loved, or that was until two large brown drops fell upon his shirt. He took notice of that little detail in a few seconds, probably because of the burning sensation. With a groan and a fail of arms that definitely lacked energy, or a hint that the redhead could have some spine for that matter, he turned back to disappeared behind his bedroom door.

It was only then that the quiet chatter of a blond news reporter rose back subtly into the modest apartment, along with the occasional sound of a sip of coffee being taken. No one knew how the inhuman task of living with the man who had just engulfed into the dark pits of his lair could be managed, but what they knew for certain was that the only man who could do it was named Rude. No one knew his secret, perhaps endless supplies of alcohol, sleeping pills, prostitutes, but he was still breathing and alive. Some said it was those sunglasses of his…

Rufus actually considered ordering a statue of the dark-skinned Turk for the remembrance this heroic act, but he had also been very, very drunk that night.

The silent man suffered the yelling, the whining and the _vomiting _that usually came after that little whiskey shot of too much, and this with his eternal shades on and his everlasting calm. Well, okay, he did remove his them _sometimes, _but it was only to clean them. Or due to a power failure; seeing through the dark with a darkened sight could indeed end up giving some dark moods to the man… Hitting his pinkie on the corner of a desk was painful even for the greatest of men.

The two Turks seemed to have been living together ever since the world began, as partners yes, but also as twisted replacements for brothers and for any family for that matter. Even before the ShinRa, they had been together. It was a settled fact just as the Earth gravitates around the moon- err I men sun. The two Turks were inseparable.

The younger counter part of the duo re-emerged with a decently buttoned and clean shirt a moment later, painfully trudging his feet across the linoleum to reach his ultimate goal that was the counter. No, the coffee pot on it, but he had to make to the counter first. After much pain, and much moaning, he could finally reach out and pull himself onto a stool. He sat there up straight and victorious for a few seconds, apparently proud for having survived through the distance of two meters, before crumbling onto a boneless heap upon the cool the surface. The contact of the colder surface against his burning forehead seemed to out-best all the bliss of heaven, earning a grateful sigh from the pained man.

Raising his hand to grab the plastic handle of the pot was _out_ of question.

Basically, it was one of those Mornings After The Little Whiskey Shot Of Too Much only this one had the small addition of Accompanied By A Psychotic Nightmare. They were worth worse than a beat up by that brunette boxer chick, followed by a screw with his boss, _along_ with a severe scolding from his forever partner. To put it short: certainly the _best, _put heavy weight on the sarcasm here, way to start a day.

"Huuuurts." One-worded sentence were also irreplaceable in these situations; so much for education…

What a wonderful day it would be indeed.


	2. Chapter One

_Chapter one: Rats._

So much for education indeed.

Black ties sucked. And, those were all Reno could see every single day where he took that damn unventilated elevator to the Shinra headquarters. It was these men and women that were the real foundations of this whole grand empire: actuaries, researchers, administrators and ambassadors. Yeah, _ambassadors_, as if the company had grown so large it had become a whole country on it's own. At least, they certainly shed as much blood as one. Their entire world was flooded with this thick, warm crimson liquid, but these bureaucrats stood in a completely different world, all babbling about pointless, useless non-sense. All of them: stuck-up black tie business men without lives.

Their god is the President and their destiny: the Statistics. They have nothing for themselves but success, no kids, no friends, no life. They are married to their work. And, with time, it is this very work that starts to eat away their being, screws them and go see elsewhere for better lackeys. Then, the spark in their eyes becomes dull and their tie isn't so neat anymore. They slowly loose their own face to become one of the random passer-by that litters the halls of this gigantic building. Most of them are always in a hurry, as if they tried to catch up the bribes of existence that escaped them so long ago.

The turk could have found it funny if he hadn't been his own situation hadn't been even uglier than theirs. Walking around with his slouched position and broken composure, he was the first to walk the plank to sacrifice his life.

Today, President Shinra sent another of these poor losers to his doom again. He took away everything the man had with one simple sentence.

In other words, he fired him.

His services were not needed anymore. The red-haired Turk didn't know _why_, he never did. His job was only to look though and escort back the miserable creature to the main entrance, this entrance that becomes a permanent exit for their dear ex-employee. What he did know though is that if the man was important enough to detain classified information about the company, he probably wouldn't see the next sunrise either.

Accidents happens very often in a city like Edge…, _Midgar_, so sudden disappearances were never questioned for more than a few days. Because Midgar would always be Midgar with it's slums, shady corner bars, silent assassins and full-breasted prostitutes. How they could think of giving a second life to this one big capital in merely changing it's name was beyond the red head, this city would always remain what it is. The skeleton underneath the fresh paint would always remain the same.

The descent of the numerous stories of the ShinRa tower usually appeared to be longer into those situations, as if the needle took pleasure in staying glued upon the every single number. The silence was always thick and there was simply nothing to say; those who stood in this situation failed. End of the line.

Yet, this time was different. This one guy had more composure than any other the Turk had ever seen, almost as if he didn't mind. This detail was already strange to say the least, next there were also his eyes. They were injected with mako to an higher degree than any SOLDIERS, and even from before the great war where the negative effects of an abusive exposure to gaia's essence were still unknown. They were two turquoise pools of poison shimmering in this droll fashion staring at _him_ all the while. Frigthening, this gaze was down straight frightening. After sometime, the neck of the redhead's shirt felt too tight and his palms sweaty. A rumor run, earlier that day, that an accident had occurred inside the synthetic mako research department. He didn't have hard time believing the cussing receptionists for once.

" You are blind." The smooth, mellow voice of the stranger startled Reno more than he liked to admit, causing him to bark back an annoyed "Who-" -but, he found himself cut off, the researcher continuing on as if he had never been interrupted. "You cannot see what is going on when you swim right in the very middle of it."

The strangeness of the statement didn't even match the appalling smile that stretched the scientist's lips, nor the faint laugh that accompanied it. Feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up, the turk listened as the chuckles echoed around their duo.

That man was a freak, a complete and total freak. Reno had always had hard times with freaks, never liked them… He wasn't one used to dealing with this sort of matters, or at least not here, inside the one place in the world where he was supposed to be safe.

Twenty-one painful stories were still to go, where time always proved to stretch on and on.

The other didn't add a single word, apparently content with staring at the red head's reflection against the stainless doors before them.

They reached the ground level what seemed to be an eternity later, the door sliding open to let the scientist slip outside. When he followed a second later, the employee had already vanished in the crowd, leaving one puzzled Turk behind with the promise of another encounter. The sleepiness that had been floating about the lousy red head had dissipated and his hand clutched tightly the black baton at his hip.

" Yeah right…" Of course, there was still the cocky snarl upon the young man's lips but suddenly it wasn't so earnest anymore.

He remained there for a moment, expecting something, anything. What, he did not know but still, he just couldn't settle back even after the man's depart. He felt awkward and twitchy, every single of his senses on the look out for any danger. Usually, the young man's instincts were right about situations that endangered him, having probably developed them after the countless "little problems", as he would say, he had gotten himself into. Almost as if he was a prey…

In the end, nothing came.

Questioning glances from these receptionists fiends were enough to send the red head back toward the elevator. He spun around his heel, staring fixedly ahead with his jaw clenched on the entire way back. His merry moods had been replaced with something lethal in itself: fear. This emotion he could not afford, so he denied it. The easy cowardly way out. What harm could a jobless laboratory rat do to him?

Slowly, the dark, ominous feeling was washed away by his plans for this night's schedule, which obviously involved his one bald companion. There was a new place opening up downtown in the sector 5 slums that promised many hours of distraction and pleasure.

Today was also the synonym of pay day, so, yes, joy threw all the rest into oblivion. They were going to party.

* * *

But, such pleasant hours did not occur, because _Mr. President _had plans for them. The rising moon found Reno taping his foot rapidly with impatience as he lit up his sixth cigarette that evening. They were to asses a situation and "minimise" some damage once again.

Leaning back in hid cushioned chair, Rufus ShinRa regarded coolly his two henchmen standing before him. His cold calculating gaze coursed over them from head to toe shamelessly. His eyes though, remained glued the fraction of a second longer over the most fiery character of his corporation's body.

He'd known them from a long time ago; the hardships that strengthened their trust being too numerous to recall properly. All that was important was that they had saved his life many times, just as he had already saved theirs. They were almost friends. They knew what hell had created his father's mistakes, they knew how ugly power could make a man.

They knew him.

His fine aristocratic features, the kind that reminded of the nobles of old, soften ever so slightly at their sight. He let one guard fall down allowing him to not be President for this one small moment. Blueish circles stretched underneath his eyes, the mighty man he usually was had now turned into a much more worn out and tired version himself. A little part of himself wanted nothing than to crawl back to bed and let the world unfold around him. He wanted to be left alone, he'd had enough of games and constant alertness.

The war had supposed to be over, but it was not.

His attention finally drifted back toward the glowing screen of the portable before him. The screen detailed a journal article that reported a strange phenomenon inside the boundaries of upper Midgar. Rumors had ran wild back then, and a great number of them had been most compromising by the company. Strategic disappearances had been orchestrated by his late father and things had settled down after a while, but, now, it was the time to turn the page over the past of their company and this one accident was the last straw that tied them back to these years of abominations.

Pulling out a small stack of clipped sheet from the top drawer of his desk, the elegant blonde sent the document skidding across the polished desk, until the taller man's hand halted it's course.

"You shall go investigate that area and retrieve every single little detail that may prove that any of it's inhabitants ever came into contact with our respectable corporation. I want this case to be disposed off as quickly as possible. Do I make myself clear?" The president spoke smoothly, elbows resting onto the desk's top as to allow him to peer over the Turks.

The dark skinned man immediately shifted to a proper stance as the previously casual air of their employer was washed away by the seriousness of the matters at hand, but change of atmosphere seemed to be blatantly ignored by his partner. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he could only sigh at the less than professional attitude of the younger one.

" Don't get yourself killed Reno." He added at last, a part of him already defeated. A usual "Sure, boss!" was thrown in in general direction as they departed. Many things changed with time, but not a bastard like this kid.

No one was better suited for this sort of buisness than these two men.

* * *

A few hours later, a generic grey vehicle containing the infamous due slowly pulled in the desert driveway; it was the kind no one bothered to notice, assuming an merry old couple was seated into it. It was what they had wanted from the beginning, otherwise Rude would have heeded to his partner's plea and caved in for one of the beauties that had been waiting proudly into the display case of their local dealer.

Sleek, pricey cars with roaring engines had always been one of his weakness. It was the one for many men after all… He couldn't help it. Just like his partner couldn't help with smoking within the damn car, just as he did right now. The stench of the toxic smoke incrusted itself in every little nook and corner of the cabin, sickening the courageous Turk to no end. He had already talked to the man about it, but it hadn't changed a single thing. Reno being Reno, what else was there to say?

Just as if on cue, a pale hand suddenly jerked out of the passenger side's window and the sad remains of a burnt down cigarette flew out. His favourite brand smelled and tasted like muck, but it had always been the redhead's unconditional. After all, they were sold away cheap, so it left all the more money for the man in order to get drunk. He did claim he loved them too, but that only god knew why.

Something else that "god" seemed to be the only one knowing was why the hell the arrogant blonde had sent them there of all places. The building that raised before them was one of old sad beige apartment complexes that littered the poorer areas of the plateau, apparently abandoned and obviously devoid of any interest. In fact, even the cheapest harlot would probably refuse living there. Shifting into his seat, Reno stuck out his head from the passenger window as if the absence of glass would make the purpose of their presence any clearer. Something felt wrong, incredibly wrong about this whole thing. Not to mention the strange presence of a large flock of crows that spiralled over the desert region did help easing either men's spirits, their croaks echoing like laughter. They were mocking them, laughing at the waste of one beautiful autumn evening that could have been spent in a thousand different ways.

"Let's get this over and done with so we can head back as quickly as possible..." Reno had already pulled himself out of his seat and was now strolling toward their target destination with his usual slouched paces.

Of course, Rude had asked no question and had kept his worries to himself. The smaller Turk's entire attitude exuded casualness, bordering on boredom, but one thing betrayed the redhead's act; his left hand never left the handle of his electric baton. He clenched it just as he had done earlier that morning, his eyes roaming over the swirling black dots into the sky and the concrete tower before them. The dark, looming monolith shaped a strange silhouette against the violent red and purple shades of the horizons. It certainly held an eerie air about it, none could say otherwise.

"Do you think we'll find some centuries old creep in there or a traumatic drug dealer?" The first asked with a smirk, but his partner, having caught up by now, simply slipped into the shattered glass doors of the building's entrance.

The late hour allowed their eyes to adjust quickly enough to the dim lighting of the few flickering neon lights. Before them stretched seas of garbage waste; the reek that accompanied the entire mess was best left unidentified. Any janitor having ever worked there probably did more than one three-sixty into their tomb. Further they advanced into the clustered entrance and further they thought that something was simply not right. The red head truly began to miss his evening off, now that the thrill of a new mission was gone and that he was slowly sinking into deeper trouble with each step they took. He could feel that they would sink into shit up to their neck before the end of night, and this feeling was as real as the dying cigarette burning his middle finger.

With a curse, he threw the consuming filter away. He didn't remember lighting it up.

Looking up at his bald companion, he watched as the man slowly made his way toward the reception desk. Aside from a thick layer of dust, various sheets and magazine were scattered next to the screen of an old ancestral computer. Bullet holes crippled the thick glass surface, it would be of no use. Flipping quickly through the various files sitting next to it, he still apparently found something revenant: a record list of the rents and the building's map. The latter seemed have been stuck there only afterward, being more worn out and tattered than all the others. The cluster left the ghosting sensation that the clerk had hurriedly left his post and never came back…

They moved on, progressing slowly down the small, long corridor that stretched at the left of the hall. Their steps echoed loudly into the thick silence no matter how much their years long training had quietened them. Whatever had happened there had left a thick, omnipresent feeling of nothing. A humid, cold, suffocating nothing that weighted heavily upon the chest.

Their search of the _Next Dawn_ apartment complex remained fruitless for the next two hours. The two men roamed the first floor for any bureau or office that could contain information concerning the ShinRa's activities or for any hints that could reveal exactly what had happen there, but the only papers the Turls came across concerned was nothing more than late monthly payments and various other bills.

Nothing was left. No matter how many lock they picked, drawers they searched; there was nothing to testify of some recent life activity nor a single record dating past fourteen years ago. As if, suddenly, they had stopped existing. Not even a forgotten newspaper on a table corner. At some point, thought none recalled which, no more of these few flickering neon lights were left and they were compelled to light up torches. Stagnant water remained the coffee pots, clothes filled the dressers, beds were unmade; in some homes, tables were set.

Their most interesting find, or at least that was in Reno's opinion, consisted in a dog toy: an headless plastic duck. He kept throwing the rubbery object at the back of the other Turk from time to time, snickering silently at the strange strangled "squee" sound it emitted before bouncing back upon the floor with a thump. His amusement grew in toe with the dark-skinned man's frustration, but this he did not seem to notice and he simply pursued on with this ordeal upon every chance he was given.

So "squee" said the little duckie over and over again as their search pushed them to scrutinise ghosts of a hundred's people lives, and "squee" said the toy when Rude abruptly stopped dead into his tracks.

His beam on light fell crudely onto the cross-shaped junction of two corridors, one that was larger than all the others they had already came across. It been turned into something resembling to a small lobby, sporting a few withered potted plants and benches, but these were not what had alarmed him. In the very middle of it was the shape of one single foot print in the dust.

Not a single trace led to it. Nothing.

Gazes were exchanged. The gruff man's features masked in the shadows, but his eyes shone with unconcealed confusion and… fear. He understood, all too well. Pulling their weapons out of their sheaths, both men crept closer. The print was definite, exact, fresh as if it had appeared the second before.

"What the hell…" Reno's voice raised and was engulfed by the thick silence that followed. A sneer twisting his features, he bent over this unexplainable step. Who, what, and most of all when? His partner swept his torch across the floor, walls and ceiling; a single octagonal window was lodged above them, but only darkness could be seen on the other side. "You know, man, whatever the boss said back there, I don't think he was expecting this." He marked a pause, casting a worried glance at the other as he straighten back up.

"Let's head back."

* * *

Please excuse the long delay, I will try to improve. 


End file.
