There had been kids.
Showing up out of the blue, being bloody adorable at them with
introductions and some more over
breakfast. There'd been worry about two of them taking off to
feed ducks, and
more worry that morning about what would happen to one of them when he went back home
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He wasn't going to freak the kid out by bending over to hug him and telling him that he refused to let him go back to that freaking horrible facility with that psycho fucknuts Hojo. So he was going to pace. Soggily.
"We got an assignment for you, Rede," he said. Casually. "It's an important one. Bigger than securin' Sector 8, if you can believe it, yo."
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"Yes, sir," he said.
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This was going to suck.
"This assignment involves you bein' on turf you... probably already kinda know," he ventured.
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Doing a good job not showing it, but he was terrified.
"You'll be given a list of names and phone numbers, newbie. You're to call every number on that list until someone agrees to come and take you out of there."
Righto. Pip-pip, and all that jolly good shit.
"First name on the list is gonna be me. Another me. Because sendin' you back means that nobody there's gonna know what happened here. Any of it. They ain't gonna know you're a Turk now, or that you earned your name. You gotta... Gotta let 'em know. But... subtly-like, or whatever. Think you can do that?"
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"If you do get a hold of that other me, first, keep trying. If I hang up, try again. I'm a stubborn son of a bitch, kid, but you gotta be just as stubborn."
Kid had his blood in him, and all.
"Just havin' my personal number is gonna probably get my attention. That'll be a good start. Sayin' things like Hojo's name, that'll probably help. Ain't many kids out there that know about Hojo and the sick shit he does." And it was sick shit, and he wasn't worried about watching his mouth so much, just so long as it kept him from freaking out and throwing things. There weren't many things to throw on the beach, there. He'd probably wind up having to go wading to retrieve his umbrella.
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"But Hojo's not gonna like you just walkin' off. So, even though you're gonna try like hell not to get caught, you gotta have back-up plans too, zoto. Very important, havin' a plan B."
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He was sending his kid back to hell with a wish and a prayer and strict instructions not to get caught by the devil on the way out.
"We're not sendin' you in unarmed, Rede. If anyone gets too close and tries to stop you, you stop 'em first." He mimed a gun with one finger. Bang. "You don't get a second chance if you don't. Understand?"
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He was tough. He could do this. Turks did all kinds of scary things like shooting Hojo all the time.
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"No." And again, he hoped he wasn't coming across as too cold, or gruff, or whatever the hell he was coming across as. But if it wasn't this, then it wasn't going to be pretty. "They come at you, you got no time to reason with 'em. It's you first, in there. Until you arrange a pickup, nobody's gonna be on your side, Rede."
He hated, hated, hated ShinRa right now. So damn much.
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He put a hand on Rede's shoulder.
"Just gotta do it once, Rede. And then nobody'll ever make you do it again."
They'd better not. Or Reno would find his way to whatever parallel universe timeline shit he came from, and he'd punch himself in the teeth for letting it happen.
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