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Taking Care of Business	By : Turkaholic Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1121 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Note: First, I realised that I've been making continuity mistakes (which will get sorted when I have time to edit) : Tseng's Company took place FOUR months ago... yup, your author is a dumbass. Also, I just wanna nudge people to leave reviews. I know, I'm a pain, but the only reason this stuff is going up online is so that other people can enjoy, and if I don't get reviews I don't have a clue if it's being enjoyed.

Plus, it makes me happy n_n
Chapter 10
Tseng's warning hung over my head all damn day. Don't get me wrong, over the years my brain has pretty much perfected the 'in one ear, out the other and half way across the continent' mode, but I'd never seen Tseng actually take me into his confidence like that before. Sure, I was second in command, but Tseng was such a damn control freak he liked to keep all the serious shit to himself; and outside of work? Well, apart from the times when I'd been a total dumbass during the day, we didn't talk about that shit. It was an unspoken rule - what happens in Shinra, stays in Shinra. Hell even Turks need some R & R.
Anyway, the point was that this time, the message got through. Generally there's always someone out to make a name for themselves - you know 'I'm a badass and I'm gonna kill a Turk', but those guys normally ended up with what little brains they had making a little modern art of the wall of dark alley somewhere. This was different. That asshole with the scars on his face looked almost as schitzo as Tseng himself, and believe me - that ain't no small achievement.
Altogether, I hadn't had the greatest 24 hours of my life. I mean, getting to see Tseng practically scream in pleasure didn't exactly hurt my ego, but the rest of it had been about as pleasant as Heidigger's ass. Being held hostage, nearly blown up, shot, set on fire, and had my throat ripped open by some guy with an overused chopping board for a face aint my idea of fun. Nor is being stared at by overpaid, cross dressing, raping bastards, who deserved to have their dicks ripped off and fed to them.
By the end of the shift the only damn thing I wanted to do was either drink myself into fucking obliviion, or head over to that sexy but oh-such-a-bastard of a boss' apartment and get him to screw me into oblivion instead. I'm a creature of habit, can I help that? My life outside of work pretty much consists of drinking my damn braincells into submission, or screwing like a pair of horny teenagers with Tseng. To be honest, those are the only two things that stop this Turk from completely losing the plot.
Tseng had gone completely obsessive over this Wutaian guy. If there's one thing that pisses Tseng off, it's his work ethic being insulted. I guess it didn't help that the bastard had put a gun to my head and tried to give me an extreme facelift. In any case, Tseng had gone completely batshit insane, and was currently sitting up in Shinra Tower with a stack of old files doing research; doing unpaid overtime like a crack whore in a damn coke den. No sex for this guy tonight, so instead I was sitting at me and Rude's usual bar, drinking away his winnings while the stupid bald bastard wondered why his money was going so fast.
"You buyin'?" Rude grunted at me, his sunglasses a little askew; or was that my vision? Fuck knows, it still looked ridiculous.
I sat back in the leather chair, an arm behind my head, smirking drunkenly as I knocked back another shot. "Nah, I bought the last one."
"...you did?" I had double vision. I watched as both Rudes scratched their bald heads, confused looks on their faces.. I half expected to hear squeaking as the dumb, slow cogs started to turn. Rude's brain isn't the fastest even when he's sober, but when the idiot's way past drunk? A lobotomized hamster could probably outwit him.
He swayed and got up out of the chair, apparently deciding that it was way too difficult to work out what had happened less than a minute ago, and started trying to walk in a straight line towards the bar. He'd always had a thing for the barmaid, so I was guessing he'd be a few minutes. I lit up a cigarette and took a look around.
It was a dive: crappy plastic chairs, lurid neon lights, and the permanent smell of vomit floating in the air. A few wasted regulars were dotted around, either throwing up in the corners, beating the flying crap out of each other, or just passed out peacefully on the floor. Yup, home sweet home: Your average Midgar drinking hole.
This place was pretty much my second home. Not that my first home was a god damn five star hotel or anything, but hey, it was a roof - which was a hell of a lot more than I'd had down in the Slums. My first day on the job, Rude had dragged me out here for a celebratory drink. Well, several. Okay, I'll admit it: I had so much to drink that night that I swear I've still got the hangover.We'd been in here nearly every night since.
Rude was propping up the bar now, his knees kinda buckled under his own hugeass weight as the barmaid poured the drinks, making small talk. Heh, a few months ago, I'd've probably been up there too, trying to get sweet talk her just to piss Rude off. Lucky for him I realised I wanted to bat for the other team.
Someone walked in front of me, apparently staggering towards the door. Only they didn't make it that far.
The guy turned to look at me, his face curled in an ugly snarl, swaying on the spot. I just glared up at him, wondering what the hell his problem was.
"Hey..." The guy drawled, planting a hand on the table in front of me. "You're Reno, right?"
I peered round him. Rude was still being driven by his cock, talking to the barmaid. No help coming from there, then. Thanks, buddy.
"And if I am?" The guy didn't look so tough - short, squat, with greasy black hair and an ugly face that reminded me of a Marlboro with brain damage. If the guy wanted to get into a fist fight, I was betting I could take him.
He leaned forward a little, his eyes out of focus, in a way that was apparently meant to be intimidating. He sneered at me. "If you are, you won't be for much longer." He muttered, reaching into his pocket. I tensed, ready to grab Lola. "I'm gonna cut you into so many pieces, Shinra won't find all your body parts for years."
He pulled his hand out of his pocket, and with it came a switchblade. He grinned at me drunkenly as it snapped open. Ugh fuck. I hadn't been in the mood for a barfight anyway, but bringing a knife into the mix? That was just cheating.
I sighed and reached into my jacket for Lola. I hadn't planned on ending my night out with a body dump, but if this guy was so fucking hell-bent on suicide...
I reached up to my gun holster and grabbed... thin air.
Shit.
Lola was missing.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Taking Care of Business