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FIC: Inevitability

Title: Inevitability
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters/Pairings: Reno/random informant.
Date Written: 2010.
Summary: Any process, once set in motion, will inevitably draw to its close. Hostages, interrogation, and phallic symbolism.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for no actual sex, but hooboy are the implications kind of filthy. Also: violence, and what sexual interpretation is there is pretty noncon.
Notes: For Kink Bingo amnesty(prompt: 'guns').


Fingers split the blind-slats, would let the light in if there were any light out there at all. There isn’t, really, and that’s the second sign that this game’s gone on too long. First is the stench of piss filling the tenement flat, rotten in the heat.

Center of the room, the man’s tied to a chair, wrists and ankles, ropes too tight and that’s on purpose. Lesnick, A. Corporate spy, they’ve told him, but if so the competition must be on its last legs to be sending in incompetents like this. He’s beyond struggling now, all the fight in him used up in the first hour, and he isn’t gagged but he fucking well knows better than to call for help. Across the alley, Reno can see that the weasel’s neighbors have all pulled their drapes and shut their windows, never mind the summer heat. They saw him go in. They’re not going to get involved.

“So,” he says, treading backwards away from the window, pistol hanging at the end of one long arm like something fixed to a rope, a pendulum. Lazy, careless. “Ever read Kizarke?”

The man swallows tightly, doesn’t answer. His fingers are starting to go blue.

Reno crouches in front of him, light and bouncy on the balls of his feet. “Wrote four hundred-odd years ago, out of Nibelheim. Philosopher. Fuck, what’re they teachin’ in pretentious asshole school these days?”

Outside, a siren. Reno ignores it; Lesnick still doesn’t answer, and hasn’t that been his biggest problem so far? Tight goddamned tongue.

“His big deal,” Reno says, and the gun arm’s stiffening now, coming up to run the barrel carelessly over the man’s brow. He lets his voice roll, hypnotic. “Was that the inevitability of our demise is a gift. It gives us a context to make choices with the certainty that they’re the only choices we can make.” Cheekbone, jawline. Sweat stains the metal, and treacherous eyes are pressed closed. “Or some shit like that. I didn’t actually go to pretentious asshole school, y’understand.”

“You can’t make me tal–”

“Of course I fuckin’ can’t. But you can.” The gun lifts, presses hard into the soft flesh of Lesnick’s cheek, grinding against the teeth underneath. “Only choice you can make. One chance left to make it.”

Again, no response – just the dry heaving of terror through the man’s lungs and nose, hot on Reno’s hand, warming the pistol’s grip.

“Fine,” he says, apathetic, and smashes the muzzle against the informant’s cheek until his jaw pops. Metal slips between teeth and lips, and the man gags. “Should just blow your fuckin’ head off, then. No use to me all clammed up.”

A strained noise, like a scream muffled against flesh.

Three good men are dead, because of this bastard.

“What?” Reno asks, grinning, sliding the muzzle further in. “What’s that? You wanna talk now? Go ahead, man, I’m all ears.”

Garbled nonsense and a sharp pull back as Lesnick tries desperately to get away from the gun. Reno snarls, grabs him by the back of the head, fingers curled into the sweaty hair. Holds him in place and slides the gun back out, admiring the saliva-sheen all along the length.

“I don’t know,” and in it goes again, languid and slow, twisting. “Doesn’t sound much like talking to me.”

A desperate keening from deep in the throat, and Reno can feel the way it vibrates all the way up his arm. He shivers.

Slides out anyway, slides in, muscle resistance dropping off. “You’re good at this, you know? Fuck, man,” he says, all false concern. “If you’d just say something, maybe I wouldn’t have to do this.”

Now the bastard really tries, basic lizard-brain fear of death rising in him right on schedule, thrashing and desperate. Fucking typical, that it always happens too late; his lips and tongue work around the muzzle to form words, but all that emerges is more gibberish.

“But if you’re not gonna talk,” Reno says, sliding the gun in as deep as it’ll go, groaning when Lesnick chokes on it, muscles spasming. “…fuck, that’s good. But if you’re just not gonna say anything here, I guess we both know what happens next.”

The siren’s getting closer. He’s running out of time. “All three of us, I guess, if you count Kizarke, right?”

One last desperate attempt, eyes watering, head straining against the grip Reno has in his hair as the man all but screams around the gun. If it weren’t metal he was choking on, that would feel–

“Bang,” Reno says, too quiet, grinning and grinning.



( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 4th, 2011 05:00 am (UTC)
Across the alley, Reno can see that the weasel’s neighbors have all pulled their drapes and shut their windows, never mind the summer heat. <---Most terrifying line for me.

Second comment on your amazing fics: this is so good. You really depict Reno in his most terrifying base element. This is what the Turks really are. I find it difficult to find a story that successfully portrays the characters and their ability to be brutal, without just making them two-dimensional and cruel, or overly dramatic and OOC.

Your writing style is also really clean. This is crafted so tightly that it's just astounding. Love the reference to the philosopher and expanding of the FF7 universe by inferring a history; also love how controlled Reno is in this.

I found it really interesting that the motivation behind this whole scene, at least partially, is that the guy is a scumbag: "three good men are dead, because of this bastard." I guess back in the day there was this whole notion of the Turks being unable to chart the course of their own lives because they were there to simply take orders and live with the consequences. I like that you gave Reno a personal stake in this, as minor as it may be. It's his job, but he's also pissed.

Okay, sorry for the thesis. I just bounced back into this fandom after years and years, and my mind is being blown at how good the fic is now. You're one of the best I've seen. I'll look for more posts!

Feb. 6th, 2011 05:26 pm (UTC)
Haha, no problem, I always enjoy well thought-out feedback.

I've always found writing the Turks in general, and Reno specifically, to be kind of a multi-dimensional balancing act. They can be terribly cruel but they are also still very much human beings, they have issues but largely bury them, they're competent but not superhuman, they're 'just doing their job' but not stupid enough to really believe it's that simple. It's a tough sequence of balances to strike, and I'm really glad you think I've managed it.

Welcome back to the fandom! I don't write FF7 terribly often anymore, but it manages to creep in now and then. :)
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )