FF7 BC: Possibly Blackmail: Reno-Tseng
Possibly Blackmail
FF7: BC
Reno-Tseng interaction, Tseng/Rufus pairing
Humor! On Reno’s early days with the Turks, defining space and working relations, and enjoying the ability to blackmail one’s boss while not getting killed, maimed, etc. Implied Tseng/Rufus, because it’s sweet. Was meant to be for 15minuteficlets, and went over by 3 minutes. Man, almost made it.
719 Words
There were clichés, there were damned clichés, and then there were straight out cop-outs.
It's better up here.
The sign was posted everywhere, on the secretary’s smile (another horrible cliché, but one that made his teeth hurt instead of making his skin crawl), on the shine of the marble floors and glass elevators and it left Reno half-expecting the piss-pots to be dipped in gold and silver, because when ShinRa wanted to say "We are the best mother-fucking conglomerate on this fucked up planet", ShinRa said it in style, with gold-embossing.
It was a shame, but the toilets and assorted shitter and pisser materials were not dipped in gold, but there were still things of value to be stolen and borrowed, and if not all of those things could be sold on the street or fenced properly, that was ok: he was getting the hang of black-mail. He'd started early of course, but being in ShinRa and with the Turks meant you had to fine-tune every skill.
It had started, innocuously enough, with a napkin. From the napkin, stained with nothing no one would really care about (except maybe Scarlet) and nothing too incriminating about it, except where it was found, it went to a tie.
Tseng wore ties, of course, and so did everyone except Reno, but Tseng preferred things in black or dark blue, things that were boring and plain and maybe had a handy pocket for skeleton keys or poisoned darts.
From the tie, it went to the shoe.
The shoe brought everything together, because even though Tseng wasn't tall or all that physically impressive until he snapped someone's head off (or shot out a lung or brain, because that was more dignified), Tseng's shoe size was bigger than the black shiny shoe Reno discovered at 2:15 in the morning, one of the few times were Tseng wouldn't be in his office and all the security cameras were suffering a small 20-minute bug. Or fizzle.
The shoe matched the tie. The napkin's semen (and even Reno, Reno who would fuck condiments and had never knowingly brushed his teeth in the history of Official Employment, thought keeping something like that was just weeeirrd) matched the person. And the person implied termination of job, and quite possibly life, for Tseng.
Which was how Reno came to face down on Tseng's carpet, smelling the dust and dirt the very best of ShinRa janitors and vacuums couldn't get out of the awful blood-colored material, with Tseng's knee in the small of his back, his right arm being twisted off, and a gun digging at the base of his skull.
"Reno," Tseng started, a Reno gave a reluctant ten points for composure and style, "I will kill you. And not only will your body never be found," Reno began to hope this wouldn't lead into another damn lecture on Turk Efficiency, "but there will never be an investigation. You will disappear. Quietly. Do you understand?"
Reno muffled and talked persuasively into the carpet. A little of the pressure on the back of his skull released. The safety of the automatic was still off.
"Boss," Reno started, bit down a laugh and smirk and then tried not to flinch when a round exploded an inch or two from his ear, the ricochet touching the rim, "You don't know who I've told. If you're seriously planning to kill me," and Tseng probably was. Tseng was a serious guy. He could respect that.
"And also, it's not like I'm asking for a lot here--a little this, a little that--"
"I don't appreciate black-mail, Reno."
"So why the fuck'd you join ShinRa? Just to chase the boss's son's co--"
Another round exploded. Reno stopped breathing.
If you gave out under a little pressure, you wouldn't survive the Turks. And after the initial beatings, gunshots, and fight with Dress Codes that Reno had won, he'd taken to the place like a duck to water. But, then again, so had Tseng. And he'd been doing it longer.
Which was how, after some deliberation, some give and take, compromise, flesh wounds, swearing, promising, counter-blackmail, and insurance, Reno wound up at Costa del Sol for a week's paid vacation.
And a happy week was had by all.
***
It takes an idiot to do cool things. That’s why it’s cool.
--Haruhara Haruko, FLCL, Gainax
***
FF7: BC
Reno-Tseng interaction, Tseng/Rufus pairing
Humor! On Reno’s early days with the Turks, defining space and working relations, and enjoying the ability to blackmail one’s boss while not getting killed, maimed, etc. Implied Tseng/Rufus, because it’s sweet. Was meant to be for 15minuteficlets, and went over by 3 minutes. Man, almost made it.
719 Words
There were clichés, there were damned clichés, and then there were straight out cop-outs.
It's better up here.
The sign was posted everywhere, on the secretary’s smile (another horrible cliché, but one that made his teeth hurt instead of making his skin crawl), on the shine of the marble floors and glass elevators and it left Reno half-expecting the piss-pots to be dipped in gold and silver, because when ShinRa wanted to say "We are the best mother-fucking conglomerate on this fucked up planet", ShinRa said it in style, with gold-embossing.
It was a shame, but the toilets and assorted shitter and pisser materials were not dipped in gold, but there were still things of value to be stolen and borrowed, and if not all of those things could be sold on the street or fenced properly, that was ok: he was getting the hang of black-mail. He'd started early of course, but being in ShinRa and with the Turks meant you had to fine-tune every skill.
It had started, innocuously enough, with a napkin. From the napkin, stained with nothing no one would really care about (except maybe Scarlet) and nothing too incriminating about it, except where it was found, it went to a tie.
Tseng wore ties, of course, and so did everyone except Reno, but Tseng preferred things in black or dark blue, things that were boring and plain and maybe had a handy pocket for skeleton keys or poisoned darts.
From the tie, it went to the shoe.
The shoe brought everything together, because even though Tseng wasn't tall or all that physically impressive until he snapped someone's head off (or shot out a lung or brain, because that was more dignified), Tseng's shoe size was bigger than the black shiny shoe Reno discovered at 2:15 in the morning, one of the few times were Tseng wouldn't be in his office and all the security cameras were suffering a small 20-minute bug. Or fizzle.
The shoe matched the tie. The napkin's semen (and even Reno, Reno who would fuck condiments and had never knowingly brushed his teeth in the history of Official Employment, thought keeping something like that was just weeeirrd) matched the person. And the person implied termination of job, and quite possibly life, for Tseng.
Which was how Reno came to face down on Tseng's carpet, smelling the dust and dirt the very best of ShinRa janitors and vacuums couldn't get out of the awful blood-colored material, with Tseng's knee in the small of his back, his right arm being twisted off, and a gun digging at the base of his skull.
"Reno," Tseng started, a Reno gave a reluctant ten points for composure and style, "I will kill you. And not only will your body never be found," Reno began to hope this wouldn't lead into another damn lecture on Turk Efficiency, "but there will never be an investigation. You will disappear. Quietly. Do you understand?"
Reno muffled and talked persuasively into the carpet. A little of the pressure on the back of his skull released. The safety of the automatic was still off.
"Boss," Reno started, bit down a laugh and smirk and then tried not to flinch when a round exploded an inch or two from his ear, the ricochet touching the rim, "You don't know who I've told. If you're seriously planning to kill me," and Tseng probably was. Tseng was a serious guy. He could respect that.
"And also, it's not like I'm asking for a lot here--a little this, a little that--"
"I don't appreciate black-mail, Reno."
"So why the fuck'd you join ShinRa? Just to chase the boss's son's co--"
Another round exploded. Reno stopped breathing.
If you gave out under a little pressure, you wouldn't survive the Turks. And after the initial beatings, gunshots, and fight with Dress Codes that Reno had won, he'd taken to the place like a duck to water. But, then again, so had Tseng. And he'd been doing it longer.
Which was how, after some deliberation, some give and take, compromise, flesh wounds, swearing, promising, counter-blackmail, and insurance, Reno wound up at Costa del Sol for a week's paid vacation.
And a happy week was had by all.
***
It takes an idiot to do cool things. That’s why it’s cool.
--Haruhara Haruko, FLCL, Gainax
***