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The Reaper	By : crystalwind Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 676 -:- 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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Additional disclaimer: I do not own the song Iter Impius, which is sung by Pain of Salvation. (You all should listen to it, by the way; it's an awesome song)
Warnings: Violence, a lot of blood, and a bit of insanity. Flashbacks are in all italics.

Chapter Seven - The Letdown

"…Sim?"
Reno lowered his gun, slowly. The hallway was suffocating suddenly, the walls closing in slowly around him. His head spun a little, and he took deep breaths, forcing himself to remain conscious. He blinked once, twice, and holstered the gun, wondering if he was just seeing a hallucination as a result of fatigue and blood loss. The image before him didn't change, except that the person rummaging through his desk straightened up to look at him.
"You're supposed to be dead." Sim's words were flat, only the barest hint of anger giving them any sort of emotion at all, and they echoed in Reno's mind.
"I…what?" Reno shook his head, trying to clear the stupor from his mind. "Sim? How… what the fuck do you mean I'm supposed to be dead? I saw your body!" He flung out an arm behind him, pointing in the general direction of the bathroom to make his point. Sim merely rolled his eyes.
"Please. You saw a body. It wasn't that hard to find someone my height with my hair color, Reno. We just made sure to pick someone who wasn't particularly useful. You saw what we wanted you to see, and nothing more. Obviously." He snorted, shook his head at Reno's ignorance, and went back to rummaging through the desk. "Envelopes… cigarettes… climbing line? All you keep in this damned desk is a bunch of junk!" He stood up again, glaring at Reno.
Reno, for his part, was staring at him blankly. He had gotten hung up at Sim's explanation of the body in the bathroom, and it was like something had short-circuited in his brain, blown a fuse. 'A…decoy…' Why in the world would Sim, of all people, do that to him? A packet of cigarettes smacked him in the forehead, partially breaking him out of his stupor.
"Are you even listening to me? Where the fuck is it?" Reno reflected, dazedly, that Sim's voice wasn't soft at all, and had lost the majority of its sweet accent. It took him a moment to realize that the pack of cigarettes had been followed by some questions, but when that finally filtered through his consciousness, it was enough to knock him out of his daze entirely, and he did what years of conditioning by his father had eventually taught him to do: he blocked out his unanswered questions, his pain, his grief, and he focused on something else. In this case, Sim was the unfortunate focus of his attention, and hard as he'd been trying to gain that attention, it didn't take him long to realize that maybe he didn't really want it.
Reno's eyes narrowed and his body stilled, that calm tension before a fight. "Where is what, exactly?" His voice was low, smooth, and Sim faltered a bit before answering.
"The combination to the safe…" He hid his uncertainty well, but Reno had picked up his hesitation anyway, and smirked.
"Well, I just don't know. It ain't there." Sim looked baffled, and Reno sneered and tapped his temple with an index finger. "I don't write that kind of shit down where traitorous little bastards like you can find them, babe."
Sim glared, furious that Reno, who should have been dead damn it! was actually standing there mocking him, in spite of what he'd been through the past day and a half. Determined not to lose a battle of wits against someone he considered to be a half-wit, he took a breath, and in an instant replaced his angry demeanor with a cold, uncaring façade. "Fine. You obviously won't tell me, so I'll just destroy the safe. I will make do without it."
His apparent change in personality did its job; Reno was unnerved, and shifted a little bit, his earlier confusion back to plague him. "Sim… why? Why are you doing this?"
Sim laughed, genuinely amused by Reno's question. "Why? Reno…sweetheart. Did you honestly think that someone like me would actually be interested in someone like you?" He tossed his hair over his shoulder, chuckling. "Honey, me and Tanner had you marked for over a year before we started sending out those invites. Oh," He smiled. "Don't look so surprised. Of course Tanner's involved in this. We've been partners in everything," his eyes glinted cruelly as he said this, "for years." He laughed again before continuing along his previous train of though. "Everyone was so jealous of him… The Reaper, the absolute god of the slums. Those fools! Tanner wasn't content with this life, these ruins. He was better than that, and he knew it. We knew it. So, we started to plan. We had to watch for a while before we found someone who would be able to replace him. The target had to be able to actually do the job, of course… That wasn't too hard to find, really, but he couldn't be from within the Lich; they all knew I was with Tanner, and wouldn't ever go near me. He had to be gay, of course… Tanner suggested that I could dress up like a girl, but that was a bit short-sighted I think. I'd have to get naked eventually, after all. In any case, we found you. No family to speak of, a respected member of a gang, tough and rude and cocky enough to believe you were capable of anything. I expected to have to work a little harder, mind you, before I had you in my pocket, but I suppose you were actually cocky enough to believe you were just that good."
Reno was staring again, and Sim smirked before continuing with a dramatic sigh. "Of course, after we found you, we had to set things up just right before Tanner could retire. As I said, everyone knew I was with Tanner, so we had to… cultivate them until they were in the right mind set. We couldn't have anyone suspicious about me all of a sudden sleeping with you. It took practically a year to get the atmosphere just right, and then Tanner sent out his applications." He sniffed. "You were too damned picky with your jobs though. We expected you to run into a job like this one much sooner, but you had a reputation, and connections. At least you made plenty of money while we waited; it wasn't all worthless. It did, however, make it less and less likely that you'd run into a job that paid well enough for our plan to actually work." He smiled yet again. "Thank the gods for Wutai. They lost the war and there are still Wutaiians who think they can win. All I had to do was contact the Wutaiian before he contacted you, and ensure that he would be working with me. You turned down the job just as you were supposed to, and… well. You've seen how things worked out. As soon as we're rid of you, we'll complete the job, take the money, and run." His eyes narrowed. "Of course, it will be more difficult to do now that you've wrecked the Lich… but we'll manage I'm sure.
He yawned, feigning boredom. "I suppose you'll just get in our way now, though. Pity the others didn't kill you like I was expecting. Ah well…" He made an abrupt motion before speaking. "Get rid of him." Reno was in a headlock, being hauled backwards through the hallway, before he could even ask who Sim was talking to.
It turned out that he didn't have to ask, anyway. The headlock abruptly disappeared, and he was hurled into the wall. He crumpled into a pile at the base of the wall, looking up to see Tanner smirking down at him. "Have a fun night?" Reno groaned, hauling himself back up to his feet, but Tanner didn't give him the opportunity to recover completely, punching him hard enough to split his lip open.
Reno sagged again, dazed after his head cracked against the wall, and blinked slowly, clearing the haze from his eyes in time to see Tanner move in with a knife. 'Oh…shit!' Adrenaline surged through his body, and he rolled out of the way just in time to avoid the blade. Fortified by his renewed burst of energy, he continued rolling until he was on his feet, reaching for his gun. Tanner was on him again before he could bring it up to shoot, and he found himself quickly embroiled in a fight for his life.
His world narrowed to the fight before him, vicious and smattered in blood. The only sound he could hear was the blood throbbing in his ears, the harsh breathing in his lungs. Everything numbed, the hollowness only broken intermittently when an old wound was reopened.
A knee found his side, and he recoiled, vision flashing red.

Faye fought back against him, against death, slashing out wildly in the hoped of deterring his assailant. The blade tore across his side, almost deep enough to expose his ribs. He snarled, enraged by the sudden pain, and propelled his own knife forward, finding purchase in the soft flesh of Faye's groin. Blood and heat poured across his hands.

Reno twisted, pulled away enough that his injured side was no longer in direct danger, and ripped his hand from Tanner's grasp, freeing his gun.
A swift elbow connected with his jaw, and he was thrown to the floor, his shoulder impacting roughly.

His arm hung, limp. Tomas hadn't given in easily, fighting with his bare hands until the end. A firm hand and sudden, twisting jerk had been all that was necessary to dislocate the shoulder.
Reno grimaced, positioning the arm properly with his good hand, bracing his feet before slamming his shoulder into the wall. The shoulder was reseated with a sickening crunch.

His arm spasmed, and he paused in his efforts to shoot his opponent, hardly realizing when he dropped his gun. Tanner swiftly took advantage of the situation, knocking the gun out of the way and kicking Reno repeatedly. Reno gasped, curling up instinctively to protect his head, before his mind took over from the pain again, and began timing the blows. Tanner never even saw it coming.
His foot swung forward, aiming to deliver another kick to Reno's ribs, when all of a sudden, Reno wasn't there. It was too late to stop the forward momentum, and the force of his swinging foot conspired with a liberal slick of blood on the floor, leaving him flat on his back and unable to breath. It probably didn't help that Reno had kicked his other foot out from under him as he started to slip, either.
The gun was forgotten, knocked out of the way when Tanner fell. It didn't matter; Reno had his knife in hand, the wicked black blade gleaming and ready for blood. Tanner never got back up.

Sim listened to the brawl from inside the office, finally knowing fear when he realized that Reno wasn't going to lose. Tanner's screams echoed through the empty building, and Sim's eyes darted back and forth, desperate for a way out. The hallway was the only exit from the room; it didn't even have a window leading to the outside. 'Why does he have climbing rope and no window?' Tanner's screams subsided, and he stilled, praying that Reno would forget he was there, would leave, would give him the opportunity to escape and leave the city. Surely, he was injured enough, out of his mind enough, he would just turn and walk out, or collapse, and the way would be clear…
The door swung open, silently, and Sim's eyes were drawn like a magnet to the dark blade, dripping blood. When he finally managed to drag his eyes away, it was only for them to settle on Reno's face, the splatters of blood obscuring his skin, his light freckles, even the scars below his eyes. The blood didn't obscure the smile, stretching across Reno's face. His eyes danced, and Sim couldn't tell if he was actually amused or just angry.
"Have you ever seen anyone skinned alive?" He didn't stop smiling the entire time.

Reno stumbled for a third time, exhausted and overbalanced by the small body in his arms. He wasn't bleeding badly, but the beatings and injuries he had taken over the past two days had worn him down. Rage and adrenaline had kept him going at the Hideout, but now all he had left was pain, and a mind-numbing emptiness that ate away at what little strength he had left. He looked down at the body in his hands, the old leather jacket worn and soaked in blood, and climbed laboriously to his feet. He was almost home.

Hole in the Wall was a bit larger than the name implied; the old office building had been abandoned for years before Reno found it, just like the rest of the buildings in the sprawling maze. Attracted by the solid outer walls and undamaged roof, he had quickly settled on the building for his home, renovating the inside as he saw fit. He hadn't had much money the first year he lived there, since he'd still been with Mel's gang at the time, so he had spent several months studying the architecture of the place, learning what walls could be knocked out, and what was needed to hold up the upper floors and roof. Once he had learned all that he could, he planned out his own floor designs, picking and choosing what rooms he wanted and how big he wanted them. Manual labor had achieved most of the rest; junk was easy to come by in the slums, and he didn't have to pay a lot to redesign the floor plans.
Once he became the Reaper, money was no longer a problem, and he was able to finish the job, turning the rough shell into a fairly comfortable home, complete with full plumbing and his very own "lab". That lab was where he went now, setting his burden down outside the door and punching in the code that would open the airseal and let him in. It wasn't a true lab; part of it was dedicated to a workshop, where he tinkered with explosives or any mechanics that caught his interest. Another area was devoted to storage, and housed tools, art supplies, and even some instruments. It hadn't taken him long to determine that the soundproofing he had equipped the room with was uniquely designed to give the lab perfect acoustics, and a piano, drums, and a guitar occupied a large corner.
The main part of the lab, however, was the half of the room devoted to medical equipment. There wasn't a lot of medical technology in the slums; he knew that Sector 1, the cleanest Sector below the Plate, had a decent medical facility, but he hadn't wanted to steal from them, knowing that the people below the Plate needed that equipment. Smaller medical supplies and various potions, however, were relatively easy to come by, particularly for someone with his connections, and he had stocked his own lab well. He even had his own examining table and gurney, although since no one had ever been to Hole in the Wall, he had never had any use for them.
Now that he did have a use for them, he wished he didn't. He turned to the body as soon as the air-sealed door was open, picking it up and carrying it to the stainless steel gurney. Laying the leather-clad bundle down, he smiled, sadly, before reaching out to brush a lock of copper hair away from her face. He couldn't really say why he'd brought Alyse's body home with him. Perhaps, over the years, he'd come to look at the girl as an older brother, or a father; perhaps he just needed an excuse for his butchery. Whatever the reason, she was there to stay. Brushing another lock of hair back, he went to the corner that housed his tools, and found a shovel.

Sector 4 had been abandoned years ago, when the construction of the Upper Plate caused some minor earthquakes that damaged most of the buildings in the industrial district. Hole in the Wall had taken minimal damage from those earthquakes, but it was enough to have ruined part of the floor in what was now Reno's lab. One corner in particular, on the "hospital" side of the room, had been practically destroyed, leaving bare dirt instead of concrete. Reno had never seen a need to fix it, and now he was vaguely glad he hadn't. It was taking long enough to dig a grave, without having to break through concrete.
He didn't notice the tears when they began to roll down his cheeks.

Reno tied off another stitch, grimacing as he did so. He was tired of this, tired of having to fix himself, tired of staring at the battered leather jacket lying across the gurney. He hadn't been able to make himself bury it with the girl, and now it lay there, mocking him for his weakness, his inability to keep his life from falling apart. He pulled another stitch closed.

He screamed, hurling a tray of medical equipment across the room. The tray shattered on impact, and the equipment, an assortment of scalpels, forceps, stitching needles, fell to the ground, joining the equipment and tools that he had already thrown about in his madness. He moved toward his art supplies, pulse throbbing in his ears, rage covering up his helplessness. The jacket lay in its original position on the gurney. He avoided looking at it when he turned.

The blood trail was faint, only a few droplets here and there, but it was enough for someone with experience to track. The larger smears, where the target had fallen to his knees, only made the job easier. Mirrored sunglasses flashed in the half-light of the maze, as the dark man made his way slowly through the buildings, following the barely visible path. The other Turk followed, trusting his skills to take them where they needed to go.

He sat in a stupor, staring at the corner that housed Alyse's grave. A painting covered the walls, a bloody child angel, copper curls blowing in a nonexistent wind. A cheerful smile contrasted tear-stained cheeks, and velvety white wings were broken and tattered. The paint was wet, he could tell by the way the light gleamed across it, and his fingers were stained from it. He didn't remember painting it, any more than he remembered flinging his medical equipment across the room. He was just so damned tired…
He turned away from the corner, emotionally beat down and physically exhausted. He had lost part of himself, he knew, but he didn't have the energy to pull himself together. Sim had called the slums, the life of the Reaper, ruins, and Reno believed it. 'Everything is ruins now…' His eyes fell upon his battered old piano, and he pulled himself towards it, mind still numb as he sat on the bench and pressed fingers to the keys.

The building they stopped in front of had obviously once been an office of some kind, but the blood trail led there unerringly, and so it must have been the right place. They paused, looking up at it, before glancing at each other and nodding. He was hurt, and possibly insane. They needed to get him before he did anything rash.
The first notes of a piano floated out as they stepped up to the door and they stopped again, listening.
I woke up today

Expecting to find all that I sought

And climb the mountains of the life I bought

Finally I'm at the top of every hierarchy

Unfortunately there is no one left

But me…
Reno's fingers danced along the keys, the haunting melody tearing itself up from his soul. He cried again, playing on.
…I woke up today

To a world that's ground to dust, dirt and stone

I'm the king upon this withering throne

I ruled every forest, every mountain, every sea

Now there're but ruins left to rule for me…
The Turks were awestruck by the song pouring out of the building, and they couldn't bring themselves to break it, choosing to remain outside rather than barge in and interrupt him. His grief tore at them.
…Just this relentless time

That calls us all on

But...
I'm never crossing that line

Leaving this world behind

I will stay on my own

On this bloodstained throne

I rule the ruins and wrecks

And the dust, dirt and stone

I rule rage rod and rattling of bones…
His voice was lonely, heartbroken. He sang like he could make the world hear.
…I am on my own

I am all alone

Everything is gone

Stuck forever here

Already cold…
…I'm never crossing that line

Leaving this world behind

I will stay on my own

On this bloodstained throne

I rule the ruins and wrecks

And the dirt and the dust and the stone

I'm the ruler of rage rod and rust

And the rattling of bones
His voice rose, fury overtaking the grief for a brief time, and he practically screamed his words.
Ruler of ruin,
Broken now,
I rule the ruins…
Rule the rust, and the rage, and the rain, and the dust,
When the stone, when the bone, and the rattling of bones…
I rule the ruins…
I rule the ruins…
When the dust, when the dirt, when the rust, when the rage, and the rod,
I rule the ruins…
His voice and piano trailed off into sobs, and the Turks outside shuffled uneasily, before turning and walking away. They knew where he lived now; they could always come back later… Inside the quiet lab, he cried, curled up on the bench. He was just so tired…of everything.

It was nearly 0100 when the knock came on the door. The man glared at his clock, swearing at whoever was waking him up, and pulled a pair of pants on. He didn't bother with a shirt, or with fixing his hair. He was tired, he looked like hell, and he wanted whoever was outside on his porch to know that he'd been sleeping, dammit, and who the fuck did they think they were, waking him up at such an ungodly hour? He flung the door open, and it almost swung back and hit him in his shock.
The figure before him looked like he hadn't slept in days. His hair was disheveled, clothing wrinkled. It was the blood that shocked him though, and the bandages. One had slipped a little, and he could see stitches beneath it, closing up what looked like a knife wound. The person standing on the porch smiled half-heartedly, and gave a tired wave.
"Hey dad…"

A long crying session and a hot shower later, and Reno was curled up on his old bed, staring at the wall. The bedroom had been cleaned since he was last there; no blood or… other bodily fluids… marred any of the surfaces. There weren't even any stains on his old sheets. He was confused, wondering if his father had truly expected him to return one day, and at the same time comforted, surrounded by the only remains of his childhood. It hadn't been an easy childhood, to be sure, but it was his, and predictable, and… safe. In spite of everything that had happened to him in this home, it still spelled security for him, maybe even love, and it didn't take him long to finally relax into slumber.
Gentle hands reached out to tuck him in, brushing some stray hairs out of his face. He didn't wake, even as his father placed a tender kiss on his forehead before walking out of the room, leaving the door open a crack to let the light in. James never had liked sleeping in the dark.

Reno awoke before 0600, despite how late he'd arrived. He lay in bed for a moment, listening, before he heard the sounds of someone moving through the kitchen. 'That explains it.' He swung his feet out of bed, stretching. His clothes were folded on his desk, and he assumed that his dad must have tossed them in the wash while he took a shower before. Stripping out of his dad's old shirt and boxers, he pulled his own clothes on before running a hand through his hair, tying it back without really caring that it wasn't brushed.
He walked into the kitchen to the smell of coffee, unsurprised to see that there wasn't any breakfast. He snagged a cup of coffee before his dad drank it all, and sat down at the table. Frankly, he would have been disturbed if there had been breakfast; his dad was being nice and all, probably because he'd come home after nearly five years covered in blood, but breakfast would have been a little over the top. He probably would have run out the door, and to hell with the coffee. A lighter was set on the table in front of him.
"James." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Even when James had been his name, everyone had called him Jimmy. Everyone, that is, but his father. His dad continued. "I've been thinking about all you told me last night, and I think it's time to give you this." Reno's attention was drawn back to the lighter, and he tensed suddenly, recognizing it.

"You're nothing, James! All these pictures, this music, give it up. You're nothing but a filthy little slum rat, just like everyone else down here. That's your place in life, that's all your place will ever be. Empty dreams and pretty pictures will never change that. Don't fucking cry!"
The sheaf of papers, covered in music notes and drawing of a child's dreams of a world where the sun shone, burned in his fathers hands, ignited by the simple flick of a silver lighter.
"Dreams get you nowhere."

His eyes narrowed, and he glared up at his father. "Gee, thanks pops… just what I've always wanted." The sarcasm was acidic enough to melt paint.
His dad just smiled. "Good, you remember what I told you that day then. Dreams won't ever get you anywhere, James." Reno scowled and started to look away, but his chin was caught in a strong grip, forcing him to look back at his father. "Dreams get you nowhere, but that doesn't mean that hard work won't. Look at you! You think most people could do what you've done? You've survived and excelled at a life that would kill most people, and drive the rest insane. I didn't burn that shit to tell you not to dream, I burned it to teach you to go beyond the dreams." His voice rose, and Reno stared. He'd never really seen his dad rant like this; it was actually kind of entertaining. Apparently, his dad actually cared that someone else had hurt him.
'Lucky for Sim that I've already killed him… I'm not sure what could be worse than being skinned alive, but I think Dad could find a way to make him beg for that.' It was incredible how much better that thought made him feel, and he was trying not to laugh by the time his dad finished. His mirth didn't go by unnoticed, and he was fixed with a scowl.
"Do you have your knife?" He nodded. "Your gun?" He nodded again. "Good. Take that lighter, and get the fuck out of my house, boy. I don't want to see you here again."
Reno grinned. "You're not going to cook me breakfast?" He dodged the coffee cup that was aimed at his head and bolted for the door, laughing. Behind him, his dad shook his head, the tiniest of smiles twitching on his face before he went to clean up the broken ceramic mug.

The office in the Hideout was still covered in blood, Sim's body tied down to the desk by the climbing line out of his drawer. Reno grimaced, turning away from the sight to dig through the pockets of Sim's clothes. Coming up with a cell phone, he turned and left, ignoring Tanner's corpse on his way out.
Once outside the building, he flipped the phone open, scrolling through the recent calls log to find a familiar number. 'Stupid bastard is gonna get what's coming to him, now…'
It didn't take him long to make his way to the edge of Sector 3, where the Wutaiian and his men were still encamped in their "temporary" building. Apparently, nobody had told them that the Lich, along with Sim and Tanner, had been destroyed, and they were still waiting on the blonde to finish the job. He smirked, pulling a remote detonator out of his pocket, peering through a scope out at the building from his vantage point: the roof of a taller building a few blocks away. He dialed the number on Sim's phone, watching the Wutaiian through the window that the man was so conveniently sitting by. There were reasons why Reno's office had been an interior room with no windows… The Wutaiian answered the phone.
"It's about damned time! There are rumors everywhere about that damned Reaper of yours! I was starting to think you weren't going to follow through!"
Reno smirked. "Did you really think that Sim was the only one who knew you were here before you contacted me? I knew about your arrival an hour after you got here." Sonny's connections were useful.
The Wutaiian spluttered. "You…who…how?"
Reno merely chuckled. "The Reaper." The Wutaiian's face paled in the image from the scope. "Just wanted to say 'bye'. You really should have left, you know. Now, your 72 hours are up." He closed the phone, watching the Wutaiian panic for a moment before stepping away from the tripod-mounted scope. He flipped open the cover on the detonator with a flourish, even though nobody was there to see, and pressed the button.
All was silent for a moment, and then the Wutaiian's building exploded at the foundation, the fires billowing up through the building before the whole thing collapsed, reducing it into a pile of smoldering rubble.
'I rule the ruins…'
Reno tossed the spent detonator, and the phone, off the roof of the building.

When he got back to Hole in the Wall, Dot-Head and Sunglass-Guy were waiting for him. He tensed instinctively, wondering how long they'd known about his home, or if they'd followed him last night. Dot-Head stepped forward, hands spread in a nonthreatening gesture. "James Stanton, the Third. Reno. Reaper… We would like to speak with you."

A/N: This chapter took me longer to write than I expected, and for that I'm sorry. Because of it, you won't get another chapter for a very long time (unless I have a writing spasm of some kind tonight or tomorrow, in which case you may get lucky). I'm going to be gone for two months, doing training for Army ROTC, so I won't be able to work on this (for a month I won't have any computer access at all, and the second month access will be very limited, if I have any at all). And so, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, because now you have to wait to see what Tseng has to say ;)
A note about Reno reseating his dislocated shoulder: I don't know if it's actually possible to do it like that or not. Maybe if you smashed up against the wall at just the right angle, with just enough force… but it would probably hurt like hell, and damage your shoulder and nerves a bit. In short, don't try this at home :p Unless you're about to die or you're in the middle of a mass-murdering rampage and don't have time to go to a doctor. Then I suggest you either take the pain and save yourself or… seek professional help :p Which Reno is in dire need of, if you ask my opinion…
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The Reaper