Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

Snapshot	By : crystalwind Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 682 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Warnings: some language

Chapter Two – Get Out Alive

Year 485
Rude’s first years as a junior Turk were relatively uneventful. His missions with Price were fairly standard and consisted primarily of stakeouts; when something more challenging came along, they typically went out with Either Tseng or Vincent, since neither of them had the kind of experience that more difficult missions generally required. As time went on, the duo acquired a lot of the skills and finesse that the senior Turks possessed, and they rarely had to have a more experienced back-up any more. Now, however, things were changing. Nearly two years after Rude’s graduation, rumors began to float up from the Slums that the Reaper was looking for a replacement.
The Reaper was a title known throughout Midgar, even in the higher-class homes on the Upper Plate. His name was synonymous with the Bogeyman in most people’s minds, and parents from all levels of society frequently used him as a mythical figure to frighten their children into behaving. Others believed so strongly in the legend that they feared to even whisper his name. He was the most feared and respected crime boss in Midgar, and his gang, known as the Lich, had existed for centuries. It was said to number in the hundreds, and the lesser-educated believed that the Reaper and his minions were immortal; the slum rats who ran in the endless gangs below the Plate, and the Turks, knew better.
The Reaper was a title passed down from person to person by means of a vicious ‘ceremony’ known as the Bloodletting. The Reaper sent invitations to people who could possibly succeed him, and they fought to the death for the honor. The people of the Slums didn’t know much else about the change of command, and truth be told, nothing else really affected them anyway. The Turks, however, always went on high alert when a Reaper was preparing to step down.
The process of turning over control of the organization was a lot more involved than the average Slum dweller gave credit for. The Lich controlled vast amounts of the lower city, even regulating the crimes of most of the other organized mobs. In order to successfully hand off power, the Reaper had to basically stabilize the city, developing a careful balance of crime lest everything fall into chaos as soon as he left. Contacts had to be preserved for the new leader, and contracts and agreements had to be renewed, as well as enforced. The process didn’t usually affect the Turks very much, but there was always the possibility that allegiances could shift and loyalties waver, the effects of which could be either beneficial or harmful to their operations.
The current Reaper, a man who went by the name of Tanner, wasn’t a particularly good leader, by the Turks’ standards. He was fairly disorganized, burned through money as quickly as he earned it, and had a rather horrific turnover rate of his Lich members, mostly because he was inept at managing people. Tseng personally felt that the man was simply too blinded by greed to actually do his job, and so the suggestion that the man was suddenly going to step down didn’t sit right with him. Verdot agreed, and the Turks were ordered to step up observations on the Lich’s activities before they even bothered to confirm the rumors; nothing good was going to come out of changes in Tanner’s organization.
To Rude’s surprise, he and Price weren’t immediately assigned to step up “patrols” in the Slums; their mission load continued as normal for several weeks after the increased optempo began. When they were finally called to a special meeting at Verdot’s office, it was a relief.

“…and if the President gets any hint that I’m not really dead, and that you helped me get away, he’ll go after all of you. He doesn’t understand how vital the Turks are to the company, Tseng; he won’t hesitate to have you all killed if you’re not very careful with this.”
“He won’t find out, and we won’t look for you. I’ll come up with a body, and that will be that. Even if he did somehow find out that you’d left alive, there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it…”
Rude froze. He was early – the meeting was supposed to be at 8:30 and it was only 8:20 – and he knew for sure that whatever Verdot was talking about, he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to hear it. There was only one thing that Verdot could really be talking about “getting away” from, and that was the Turks. Joining the Turks was a lifetime sentence; if you tried to leave you were killed, simple as that. At least, Rude had always thought so.
“…The Turks are even less dispensable than the Soldiers are; he’s just too foolish to realize that. He depends on us too much; we do his blackmail, we do his dirty work, we keep this company running smoothly for him. We guard him while he sleeps. He can try to get rid of us, but he will learn very quickly how bad of an idea that really is.
“Get out when the time is right, take care of your daughter, and lay low. As far as the Turks are concerned, you’ll die on some obscure mission somewhere and no one will see your face again.”
Rude heard Tseng walk towards the door, and it was too late to disappear or act like he’d just arrived. He turned aside to let the senior Turk pass, straightening to attention and schooling his face into blankness as best he could. He wished he were wearing his sunglasses.
Tseng stopped short, staring at him. They stood that way, neither saying anything, until the elevator dinged and Price stepped around the corner. Tseng stared at Rude a moment longer, then glanced at his watch. “You’re late, Price. Both of you inside, now.”

The Turks had stayed on the sidelines for weeks, patrolling in the Slums more than normal but otherwise staying firmly out of the Reaper’s affairs. Now, however, they finally had an informant on the inside of the organization. Tseng, Rude, and Price were to meet the man near a no-name convenience store in the middle of Sector 5, an area of the Slums that was generally considered a neutral zone by most of the gangs and criminal organizations. He would supposedly be able to give them a concrete “yes” or “no” as to whether Tanner was stepping down, as well as an anticipated time for the event. Verdot expected to be able to use the man in the future, and it was Tseng’s job during the meeting to ensure that he would remain loyal.
Tseng remained in Verdot’s office after the briefing was over, sending Rude and Price ahead to wait in the lobby. It was ostensibly to cover last-minute instructions, but Rude suspected that it was really so that Tseng could inform Verdot that he’d overheard their conversation. He was quiet when he and Price stepped into the elevator, hoping that his mistake didn’t cost him his job and, consequently, his life; he respected Verdot and Tseng a great deal, and although he didn’t know what the situation was with Verdot’s daughter – he hadn’t even known that the man had a family outside of the Turks – he certainly wasn’t going to complain that one of his most respected mentors was being allowed to leave the department alive. He just hoped that he lived long enough to earn the same kind of respect and trust himself one day.
Price glanced at him after the elevator started moving. “So, Tseng was seriously giving you the evil eye when I walked up.”
Rude remained silent for a moment, considering his options. Price was his boyfriend and his partner, but Tseng and Verdot were his superiors and, realistically speaking, his life. He owed a lot to both of them, and he wasn’t supposed to hear that conversation anyway. He trusted them to think before acting and to take care of him more than he trusted Price to keep quiet about it, and it wasn’t any of the blond Turk’s business anyway. “Yeah, he was pissed off that you didn’t show up early. You know that if you’re not ten minutes early you’re late.”
Price laughed. “Sorry. Guess you’ll have to do a better job at babysitting me from now on.” Rude smirked, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

If Tseng was planning on ending Rude’s life in the near future, he gave no sign on the trip below the Plate. The journey was uneventful and mostly quiet for the three Turks; every now and then Rude or Price would ask a question, trying to get as much benefit out of Tseng’s presence as possible since one-on-one mentoring with the senior Turks was rare now that all of the Turks were so busy. They fell silent once they reached the crowded streets of Sector 5, and none of them spoke once they reached the store. Now all they had to do was wait.
Laughter rang out down the street and they all glanced over, curious about the commotion. A bright flash of red hair was the first thing that caught their eyes; then they noticed the boy it belonged to. The hair crowned a pale face with laughing blue eyes and a sparkling grin, probably the brightest flash of color and personality in lower Midgar. He was only one of over a dozen children, but he easily stood out from the rest, quickly organizing the motley group of kids into two distinct “gangs.” In a scene reminiscent of every gang movie ever created, the two groups faced off against each other, strung out along a wide swath of no-man’s land. They insulted each other for a few minutes, traded some rude gestures that their parents would probably have been shocked to see, and then it began. One of the kids threw a clump of dirt; the two groups threw dirt and garbage back and forth for a few moments, but the situation quickly degenerated into a shrieking mob, each child intent on winning in an every-man-for-himself struggle.
The redhead who had caught the Turks’ eye, however, didn’t leap into the fray like everyone else. He watched for a minute, then ran through and grabbed two of the other children, pulling them out of the fight. The Turks watched, amused, as the trio armed themselves with trash from a nearby garbage can. The other kids never even saw it coming; a veritable barrage of sludge rained down upon them, and the skirmish ended quickly. The redhead smirked, strutted out in front of them, and crossed his arms. “I’ll accept your unconditional surrender now.”
Rude had trouble keeping himself from laughing at that, and beside him Price was having similar troubles. Even Tseng was fighting down a smile; this kid was completely full of himself.
The other children weren’t as amused; then again, their unofficial leader had an exploded diaper on top of his head, which was probably pretty demoralizing for just about anybody. “You always win, Jimmy…” The Turks automatically filed the name away for later reference, the mental action as automatic for them as breathing. “…though I’m pretty sure I was on your side originally.” Tseng’s lips twitched again at that; he was on Jimmy’s side originally.
The redhead – Jimmy – laughed. “Maybe next time.” The crowd began to disperse, and Jimmy and his two friends were the last ones standing there. They talked for a few minutes before agreeing to meet up at a local playground the next day; then they went their separate ways. The Turks watched Jimmy until he rounded a corner and disappeared.
“He’s a smart kid,” Tseng observed. “Far more intelligent and organized than the average child in that age group. A bit loud, perhaps, and I think I’m half blind now from looking at that hair.” Rude and Price smirked; then Rude caught sight of a slender blond leaning against a lamp post across the street, watching them with amber eyes. He adjusted his sunglasses and nodded in the man’s direction. Tseng followed his gaze and sighed. “Finally. Let’s get this over with.” Tseng made a mental note to check back on the boy before he turned to focus on the matter at hand. Price followed immediately, immediately dismissing the boy from his thoughts.
Rude stood for a moment longer, looking back in the direction that Jimmy had disappeared in. Most of the residents of the Slums were dull, monotone. Any color or personality was bleached out of them by the time they could walk, beaten away continuously by the harsh living conditions. He was curious as to how someone so bright had managed to survive unscathed for so long. Frowning, he shrugged it off, turning to follow his companions.
As expected, the informant confirmed that the Reaper was preparing to hand over the reins to someone new. Tanner had no solid deadline for the handover, but the informant estimated that it would be approximately two years before the switch occurred. The information wasn’t really much more than the Turks already knew, but the informant was relatively close to Tanner and would be able to gather more information as time went on; Tanner’s own lack of organization made it particularly difficult to gather useful intelligence in a timely manner. Verdot immediately ordered the patrols to stand down. They weren’t reduced to their previous level, but they were decreased to something a bit more sustainable; the Turks were going to have to keep a closer eye on the Slums for a while now.

Rude wasn’t surprised when he was called to Verdot’s office seven days later; he also wasn’t surprised to see Tseng standing next to Verdot’s desk. He was, however, surprised when neither of his superiors mentioned anything about the conversation a week prior. Instead, the topic of discussion was Jimmy, the redheaded boy from the Slums. Tseng questioned Rude for several minutes on his opinions of the boy’s tactics, organizational skills, and intelligence, before Verdot slid a manila folder across the desk towards him. Rude was shocked into speechlessness by the photos inside. They were taken with a Standard Issue surveillance camera, and they were photos of Jimmy. The boy was almost unrecognizable from the child they had seen in Sector 5.
His eyes and hair, so bright the week before, were tired and dull. His pale face was now marked by a pair of hideous red gouges below his eyes. It appeared as though they had been infected, and the skin around them was bruised and inflamed. His eyes had a haunted look about them, and made him appear years older than he really was.
Rude’s hands were clenched into fists by the time he finished looking at the photos. “Who did this?”
Verdot snorted quietly. “Who knows? A parent most likely, but we didn’t have him tailed so we don’t know where he went or where he came from. These were taken by Cissnei early last evening. He was headed into Sector 4; a team this morning reported seeing him practicing pickpocketing, of all things, with one of the local gangs. The gang in question has a decent reputation in the Wars, run by a guy who goes by ‘Mel.’ We don’t have a lot of background info on any of the members, but that’s pretty typical when dealing with these guys. Most of them are orphans or runaways who don’t have anything better to go back to.
“The point is, you and every other Turk who’s seen this kid thinks that he’s abnormally intelligent, and that he has an impressive set of organizational skills for someone his age – however old that may actually be. Now he’s adding to that skill set with the typical talents of your average street hoodlum. The team this morning reported that he picked up pickpocketing almost instantly; there’s no reason to think that he won’t pick up the rest of those skills with ease.
“We don’t usually recruit from below the Plate, because people down there are typically unreliable, too concerned with their own survival to focus on anything else and generally unreliable. They also don’t tend to live long enough to be a recruitable age. In this case, however, we have a fairly unique individual, and we want to keep an eye on him. I have a standing order for all units below the Plate to report on any contact with him, but I want a semi-permanent tail. Your team will keep be assigned to the case; we have plenty of people keeping an eye on the Reaper situation, and you have an eye for detail and a knack for reading people that will be invaluable to this assignment. Tseng will provide you with the details.”
Rude recognized a dismissal when he heard one, and nodded. “The photos, sir?” Verdot waved a hand, indicating that he could take them with him. “Sirs.” Rude turned and headed back to his shared office.
Price glanced up when he came in. “Everything okay?” Rude tossed the folder on Price’s desk. “That kid from last week? Looks like someone fucked him up.” Price gave a short laugh before closing the folder and tossing it over to land opened on Rude’s desk. Rude stared at him.
“That’s a kid, Price. And somebody carved his face up.”
Price shrugged, turning back to his paperwork. “He’s just some fucking slum rat, Rude. They all get fucked up like that sooner or later.”
Rude sat down slowly, stricken. He had never heard his boyfriend speak like this before, and he didn’t know what to think. Price had dismissed the buy as easily as someone would dismiss a piece of trash blowing across the street. He looked quietly down at the folder on his desk, the photograph, a boy’s ruined face, staring up at him. He had a feeling that that face would haunt him for years to come.

A/N:
Update time! So, for those of you reading my other stories, you probably recall my last Author’s Note from Broken Wings mentioning SERE training. Man, did that suck. But it was also awesome at the same time. Go figure…
Anyway, enough about that :p I’ve decided that this is going to be a fairly short story – probably somewhere around 10 chapters (15 at the most I’d guess). It’s going to mirror The Reaper a lot, just from Rude’s point of view, so if you’ve already read Reaper (which I seriously hope you did before starting this one), then you already know a lot of what’s going on during this story. If you haven’t already read Reaper, you might want to; it’ll probably make this story much less confusing.
And, um… I have the outline for the next chapter of this ready to go (actually was supposed to be the second half of this chapter, but I decided to break it off here), so this will probably be the next story update too. Going to be visiting family for a week though, so probably not going to be a speedy update, sorry…
Also, I never played Before Crisis, so I don’t know much about Verdot/Veld. As with most of the characters, he’s simply another hapless victim of an AU story.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Snapshot