Streets of Midgar | By : crystalwind Category: Final Fantasy VII > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1124 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy or its characters, nor do I make any money from this story. |
Warnings:
Chapter Two
Year 489
Tseng walked quietly through the streets, his opinion of the locals mostly unchanged since his last trip to the Slums. His scan of the area was casual and unconcerned; most people down here posed no threat to a Turk, and Vincent was trailing him wearing civilian clothes. The people that he passed avoided him almost as a matter of course; people usually did when they spotted his suit. It made him feel like a ship gliding through turbulent waters with him at the calm center. He appreciated the effect – when nearly everyone around him responded in the same manner, the eddies of discontent made it easy to spot the few who didn't fall into the pattern. It allowed him to focus on other things.
Two months and three murders had passed since his first meeting with the MPD and the Turks were no closer to closing in on their suspect. Whoever he was, he was good at cleaning up and good at going unnoticed. That, or his fellow citizens were just terrible at noticing details; Tseng suspected it was at least partly the latter. Those who "saw" him invariably described his clothes and hat as a nondescript grey, which was pretty much useless. Everything in the Slums turned the color of dirt eventually anyway. Facial descriptions varied; some said he had facial scars, some said they were tattoos, some said he had nothing on his face at all. No one could really describe the scars or tattoos, of course, nor could they recall his eye color. Vincent doubted that the so-called witnesses were even describing the same individual, and Tseng was inclined to agree with him.
Now, finally, they had a witness that might actually be credible. One of the Turks' CIs, known for his attention to detail, had called Veld two days ago requesting a meeting. He had apparently been staying in the inn that the most recent murder occurred at, and he saw a young male prostitute leaving the inn at around the right time to be the killer. Tseng hoped the kid was the right one – with the CI's description they would finally be able to build a reliable facial sketch, but it wouldn't do much good if they had the wrong person. That sort of inn hosted a lot of unsavory characters, so there was no real guarantee.
Tseng was only two blocks away from the meeting site when something pulled him out of his thoughts. When he thought back on it later, he couldn't really even pick out what first caught his attention, just something different about the way the boy was walking. He wasn't much to look at really, dressed in worn out clothes and conveying the general aura of malnourishment common to most children in the Slums. The brightest thing about him was his hair, which would probably have caught Tseng's attention just for the novelty of the color. It wasn't that though, or the thin red scars on his face, or even the idle twirling of a small stick in his left hand. Tseng watched him without slowing, trying to look without making it obvious that he was staring but it wasn't until the boy glanced his way – oh so casually and completely unconcerned – that Tseng knew what had caught his attention. The boy wasn't afraid.
Tseng stopped quietly once the boy passed, turned to face him. His CI was waiting only a block and a half away, maybe with the key to breaking the case. Vincent, a block away, paused as well, inspecting the wares on a street cart. Tseng glanced at him, briefly caught his eye, walked silently after the boy.
The boy turned, just a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the Turk was still walking the other direction. The Turk was right behind him.
Tseng was almost within arm's reach when the boy turned, another oh-so-casual glance to make sure he wasn't being followed. There was a moment, the briefest pause, when Tseng thought the boy was actually going to stop, surprised and maybe even afraid, and Tseng thought that maybe he was wrong about him. Then the boy bolted.
Tseng was caught by surprise – the boy was fast. Down the street, Vincent tossed the magazine he was looking at aside and sprinted to intercept him. Tseng was momentarily relieved; there were no side streets between him and Vincent, so the boy had nowhere to run to. When the boy spotted Vincent and hooked a hard right, Tseng even allowed himself a small grin; the grocery store that the boy was heading towards was one of the few shops on the street that didn't have a back entrance to the alley either.
The boy wasn't running to the store. Like many of the buildings in that Sector, the walls of the store were old brick, pitted and cracked. The mortar has crumbled in some spots from age and neglect, leaving cracks and holes behind. The boy went straight up the wall, faster than Tseng would have believed possible. No longer smiling, he followed.
The ensuing chase took far longer than Tseng liked. The boy was not only fast but also utterly fearless when it came to heights – Tseng thought it somewhat suicidal, personally. He was relieved when the boy abandoned the rooftops in favor of the alleyways. The Turk was reasonably certain that the kid could outrun him on a straightaway, but the twists and turns of the alleys allowed Tseng to keep in in sight for the most part. Vincent was nowhere to be seen; he hadn't followed them onto the rooftops. Tseng hoped he was able to get enough PHS signal to track Tseng's movement and get a map of the alleys. They were in a new Sector and the boy hadn't made any attempt to vanish into a bolt hole somewhere, so with any luck he was as lost as Tseng was and Vincent would be able to find a spot to head them off.
The boy was confident when he climbed the wall of the grocery store and took off along the rooftops. He knew that he was a fast climber, and he expected to lose the dark-haired Turk quickly. As the chase continued and he resorted to more and more desperate routes to try and lose his pursuer, he realized that he may be outmatched. He dropped to the ground in hopes of losing the Turk around a turn but he was never able to make a second turn before the Turk rounded the corners behind him. As they travelled out of the Sector and into an area that he was unfamiliar with, the boy started to worry. The other Turk, the one in street clothes, was nowhere to be seen; the boy didn't know whether he should be happy about that or not. This Sector was more structured and developed than his normal haunting grounds, with street signs on most of the corners and cameras scattered everywhere; it was why he avoided the area. Everyone knew that the Turks had access to the best technology, and if that other Turk was able to access the camera systems or map the area… The boy ran on, truly afraid for the first time that day.
Tseng cursed when the boy put on a spurt of speed and darted around another corner. He was getting tired, and the boy was slowly putting more distance between them. If he made it around a second corner before Tseng could get him back in sight, he probably wouldn't be able to catch him again.
The boy should have picked the other direction. The street that he turned onto was a long one with no side alleys; it made an L-turn at the far end, with no indication of where that might lead. The boy was too tired to take to the rooftops again, too tired after his last burst of speed to keep putting distance between himself and his follower. He prayed that the street turned onto a main thoroughfare instead of into a dead end; losing himself in a crowd was his only chance of escaping now. He was just over halfway to the turn when he heard the Turk round the corner behind him; he was almost to the far end when the other Turk stepped out in front of him. There was nowhere else for him to go.
'This kid is full of surprises today,' Tseng thought, sighing when the boy pivoted and came dashing back towards him. Tseng couldn't fault his logic; if their places were reversed he would have done the same, risking facing an equally-tired pursuer rather than Vincent. Unfortunately it meant that Vincent, who appeared relatively fresh and had probably picked up their car rather than go running around the Slums, wouldn't be able to just knock the kid out and put a quick end to it. Tseng sighed again when the boy pulled out a knife.
It was a cruel-looking piece of equipment, its dark steel nearly six inches long and wickedly curved, designed for killing. Tseng suspected that he already knew what work that knife was capable of and he wished, not for the first time that day, that he could just shoot the boy and be done with the whole mess. Veld wanted answers though, an accurate body count amongst other things, and they needed the boy alive for that.
The fight was mercifully brief; Vincent put an end to it after all. The boy was completely untrained – not a big surprise all things considered – and Tseng was a skilled martial artist despite his fatigue. He fended off the boy's uncoordinated slashes and kicks until Vincent was able to find a safe opening to step in. The boy wasn't expecting the butt of a pistol to the back of his head and he went down to his knees quickly, the knife dropping from nerveless fingers. Tseng rolled his shoulders, giving Vincent a nod of thanks when he kicked the knife away. The boy rolled over to face him, reaching towards the blade, and Tseng gave him a swift and savage backhand. He curled in on himself after that, too stunned and tired for any further resistance.
Tseng knelt in front of the boy, careful to stay out of kicking range just in case. The boy wouldn't meet his gaze at first, stubbornly knuckling his own eyes to keep from crying. Tseng, impressed by the teen's tenacity, allowed him a minute to compose himself before speaking. "What's your name?"
The boy looked up at him, giving him his first clear look at the boy's eyes. 'Blue,' Tseng noted. 'And they're definitely scars, not tattoos.' Those blue eyes still carried a hint of defiance, and for a moment Tseng didn't think the boy was going to answer. Vincent stepped behind Tseng and the boy's eyes followed him carefully, watching as he picked up the knife. His gaze dropped again after that, but not before Tseng caught a glimpse of fury, then fear, then a terrible blankness that made Tseng's stomach churn. The boy's voice was dull and lifeless when he finally responded.
"Reno. My name is Reno."
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