ruffians | → call me out

[ It wasn't a place he had thought about in a long time, perhaps because he actually didn't remember it ever existing. Now though, with spurs clicking in time with the confident strides over cracked pavement, it seemed absurd that he ever forgot. The streets were familiar, mapped out in near perfection in his mind from walking them over a number of months, sometimes running to or from something. Usually from. This wasn't a safe place, even for a GRU officer.

His hand fell to his side, then. Fingers sliding over the handle of his revolver in some Freudian gesture of a search for security. Twelve bullets. He could do a lot with twelve bullets.

For now, he'd allow himself to succumb to Maslow's staircase of needs — shelter, food, water. Security. Maybe he could even find out if he was alone in this godforsaken place, or if any of the other poor unfortunate souls had found themselves back here again. Maybe John, if he was lucky. Maybe EVA, if he was unlucky. Even the Fear would be preferable to no one. As for the people he'd met here, both during his first confusing tour and the second that had been so vastly different... well, he didn't remember most of them. Couldn't drag up their names or faces even if he tried, more for a lack of interest than an ailing memory.

Of course... there was always Reno. That would be something else entirely. ]

[Always Reno, indeed. He's not been here long - a day, maybe two - but it's only taken a fraction of that to ease himself back in. The differences were superficial, the people, the monsters. The state of each building. He'd learned quickly enough that they were transient and less essential to him and his survival than maybe he entirely believed.

Discedo, though. It never changed. No matter how much fucking work they put in it never changed a goddamn bit; he remembered the pulse and the layout and the stink of it just as well as he knew Midgar. Knew immediately where he'd been left and how to find his way around. Beyond the short few minutes it took him to catch his bearings once he'd accepted he was back, it was like waking up. Like being home was little more than a pleasant dream and this was the reality of his life. Astounded by the familiarity of Horton and the way walking its halls eased a slight heaviness in his chest.

Like coming home.

The apartment had been a bust - obviously not taken over again in however long he'd been gone, but his weapons and his research stash were gone - and he felt himself longing for something to tether him and remind him of the times here that weren't horrible. A little something to keep his head on straight since it was impossible to know how long he'd be stuck this time.

Which is how he ends up walking the streets, checking the alleyways next to buildings for a familiar bike. Perhaps it's reckless and ill-advised, but unless it had been destroyed it would still be around. Far too useful for salvage. It's when he's checking behind Lander that he hears the familiar clink of spurs and for a moment - a brief, shining moment - he thinks that's what he's looking for. Something or someone that doesn't make him want to tear himself apart in that familiar cocktail of frustration and hopelessness he'd so come to hate.

Then he remembers.

The memories are still coming back, and this one hits like a sledgehammer. He pauses to steel himself and eventually walks out onto the main road to meet him face-to-face. They'll come across eachother soon enough - they always did - he may as well just speed the whole thing up. Get it over with.]

Been a while.

[Hands in pockets. Lazy smirk. Casual. Like this is nothing. Like it's not exactly the opposite of what he needs right now.]

Edited 2014-01-12 21:07 (UTC)

[ He comes to a stop when the other steps out into the street, one hand still lingering close to his revolver. Just in case. You can never be too certain, never trust that recklessly. ]

It has.

[ The response is nonchalant, like they'd agreed on this meeting from the very beginning but it's only the fact that he may have been subconsciously looking for Reno that allows him to keep this level of calm. He cocks his head to look the other over, from the red hair to the suit, a lopsided smirk tugging at his mouth and he just can't help himself. Last time he couldn't enjoy the look on Reno's face, but now? Now he remembers and that he can exploit, if only for his own amusement. ]

Who are you again?

[Reno laughs reflexively. He knows Ocelot well enough to see the joke, and he knows the game well enough to respond in kind. Last time he'd been worn down by over a year of dead ends and futility. Of frustration and exhaustion. He'd not known how best to manage this particular situation - partially thanks to the alien nature of it, but also because he'd been in Discedo so long he'd forgotten a lot of how to be who he was before.]

Oh, no one important.

[Not this time. Fresh from Gaia? The things that made him Reno of the Turks are still fire in his veins, reminding him of everything he is and can't allow himself to be. The suit was a symbol of a company that didn't mess around and a department that reminded people they were right to be afraid. He's nowhere near naive or stupid enough to believe he could inspire that feeling in Ocelot - he's made enough mistakes on that front and knows Ocelot well enough to that's a feat beyond him alone - but he's formidable. Not some family pet begging for table scraps of affection and validation.

He closes the distance between them, uncaring about the hand Ocelot has on his gun, not wanting to be heard by onlookers. Habit, more than any belief they'd discuss anything he'd feel an overwhelming want to keep between them.]

Just returned?

Edited (phone tagging is the bane of my grammatical existence) 2014-01-13 23:24 (UTC)

[ The thing that lacked the last time he was here — second time around, chronologically — was respect. Not for him so much, but rather Reno. It's difficult to like a guy when you can't respect him and after months (or had it been years by then?) in Discedo, every shred of power, of danger, of being capable of unspeakable acts when the situation calls for it... it gets washed out. Hunger may drive a man beyond his limits but it's the well-fed soldier that survives in the long run and after John arrived, after he himself came back with a clean slate there was the constant reminder of what power is. Reno wasn't it, even with his sparky lightning tricks.

Now though, Ocelot is not so sure. He suspects that although Reno may not inspire any fear in him, there is a possibility of respect. ]

Fresh off whatever it is they use to bring us here. [ Nonchalant, bordering on bored. ] Seeing as you're not covered in shit, I assume you've been here just about as long.

Couple of days, yeah.

[Reno shifts uncomfortably on the spot; idling on the streets in Discedo has always been a way to get yourself killed alarmingly fast. It's been eerily quiet since he arrived, but he's done that dance twice and he's not overly keen to give it a third go. Not to mention the added issue of Ocelot being here - giving him the time to get properly bored almost definitely wouldn't work in his favour. Ocelot's a goal-oriented person, Reno gets that. Ocelot's also an awful person and clearly a sadist. Reno... Kind of wishes he didn't get that in this particular case, if he's honest.

Frowning, he looks up and down the street to decide the best direction to move in. He's going to have to abandon the search for Ohura until he can shake Ocelot - that's sentimentality. Sentimentality is not a weakness he's not willing to admit in front of Ocelot, even if it's something he could couch in pragmatism like a motorbike - and tips his head in the direction of one of the buildings he hasn't checked out yet. He's got no idea how long it'll be before Ocelot gets bored and/or fed up enough to go do his own thing. Until then they can do something useful, like check abandoned apartments for weapons and ammo and food.]

Almost nice to see a familiar face.

[Check out that obnoxious smirk.]

Almost being the operative word... [ A nonchalant chuckle but truth be told it's not so bad having someone around who knows who he is. Who remembers, even though there are quite a few things Ocelot would prefer if Reno didn't remember. A swift blow to the head seems awfully tempting right about now but blood is so messy to clean up and if memory serves him right, Discedo is not a place suitable for doing laundry.

He lets silence fall for a moment, pale eyes scanning the grimy streets ahead. ]

Almost a shame, don't you think? [ Of course he's not going to clarify where his mind has gone off to. Of course not. ]

[There is a long list of things Reno has not missed about Ocelot, and "vague, cryptic bullshit hinting" is definitely pretty high up there.

Reno cants his head thoughtfully, a show of thinking about what this shame might be.] Sure.

[He won't even pretend he has any idea what Ocelot is on about, but he's not really about to pursue and explanation either. Fairly certain all he'll get for his trouble is a whole lot of smug, "don't you know?" as if he's a goddamn psychic or something.]

[ For once, he's not expecting psychic abilities. Sure, it'd be nice if he didn't have to explain himself but sometimes a man just has to take a moment to muse on revolvers and silver bullets sliding into a well greased chamber or, in this case, a godforsaken dump that reeks of dead fish. ]

How long did you stay here?

Twenty months. First time. [Sigh.] Then another three.

[He says it very much with the weariness of someone who has Had Enough, since, well. He has. Had done within a month of arriving the first time around. If there has ever been a way to describe how Reno feels about Discedo, it would be "100% done." Sadly for him, the feeling does not seem to be mutual.]

Hopefully they're trying to set a trend and this time I'll be here for... [Pause for maths.] Six days.

Edited 2014-03-27 23:52 (UTC)

Here's to hoping. [ A dry chuckle. As much as he himself doesn't want to be here for any longer than he already has, the prospect of watching Reno slowly lose his pride and hope is oddly satisfying. It doesn't weigh out the bad, but it sweetens it a touch. ]

I wonder who else they've dragged into this godforsaken cesspit... or if this truly is another show of the scientists' sense of humor.

[This time, Reno's hesitation is a lot more noticeable. He realises it straight away; it's just a hair too long and too halting for him to play off as nothing. (It's just difficult not to think about the people he'd be glad to never deal with again - Nightmare, the remnants, Walter, Azula - and the people he misses - Bulma, Prince, Marlene, Jackie, Kakihara, the list goes on - and what a huge fucking mistake it is that there are people he misses in such a significant way in the first place. It's not--)

He shrugs. Nonchalant, disinterested. It's not that he expects Ocelot not to notice so much as he expects him to file it away as a weakness to exploit later. Or maybe to just needle him about it to entertain himself. Either way, if he can play it off as little more than a blip; just a pause while he remembered something and nothing else. Well, it gives him a leg to stand on when the inevitable dancing around how weak Discedo made him begins.]

Definitely some faces I wouldn't mind never seeing again.

[There's no accusation or pointedness in his tone or anything, it's just a casual statement of fact made almost distractedly as he stops to push a door and see if it's locked or what.]

[ He notices — of course he does, even though he makes a good enough show of pretending he hasn't seen a thing. His last tour of Discedo was heavy in premature nostalgia more than anything else, what with his sudden and intimate relationship with John that ended just as quickly as it had started and so one would think that there are no faces left for Ocelot to dread or look forward to. He made no friends and an appalling low number of enemies.

One would think so, wouldn't one.

Of course, this time he remembers it all. Not just the short few months he spent here last, but the ones that came before. Of using cigarettes as a trade-off to gain Reno's trust and, accidentally, companionship. Of watching him bleed out in the dirt, the numb, sticky, searing pain of a third-degree burn and Azula, oh he remembers Azula and where other people would dread seeing her Ocelot hopes that little bitch is around so he can put a bullet or three in her kneecaps.

He remembers and Reno doesn't know. Not yet. Maybe it should be kept that way but Ocelot was never that good with concealing the upper hand when he didn't need to. He pauses in his steps, head craned to one side as he surveys the crossing streets. ]

It was... two, three blocks from here, wasn't it?

[Ocelot is chock full of statements that catch Reno off guard today.

His hand stops just short of trying the doorhandle and withdraws, hesitant again. He sighs and turns back to look at Ocelot, trying to place what he's talking about. Discedo isn't a huge place, it could be a lot of things.

There aren't a lot of things between them, though.]

What was three blocks from here?

[ He draws it out, for theatrical effect, for suspense or simply because he does so enjoy being an insufferable asshole whenever he gets the chance to. When he speaks it's with measure and weight, as if he's rehearsed this all day. ]

Where you died.

[He's just about to give up on getting any kind of answer that's worth a damn when Ocelot actually speaks. If he's looking for a chink in the armour then he's certainly found it - not that he had to look hard, Reno supposes. If he remembers this, then Ocelot surely must remember how it rattled him to his core. Bleeding out in some fucking alley on some other world for no goddamn reason at all. Indestructible Reno of the Turks who could stand up to anything except a sword in his gut.

He doesn't want to be here. Reno isn't sure he's ever had a clearer thought in his mind. He doesn't want to be here, and moreover he doesn't want to be here with him. He cycles through a lot of emotions - largely negative - eventually coming to settle on anger. It's comfortable. Familiar. Like an old friend come to take him by the arm and guide him through an uncharted labyrinth. His voice is grave and harsh; not threatening by any measure, but there's lava bubbling in his veins all the same.]

So you remember.

Edited (casually fixes grammar don't mind me) 2014-04-06 21:50 (UTC)

[ Ah, there it is. Nothing like using a personal weakness to uncover an even bigger writhing pile of worms in your opponent — and although he never registered Reno as a threat, that's the label he's choosing to slap on him for the time being. Not ally, like he might have been once upon a time and certainly not an enemy. Just someone to fuck around with, antagonize for shits and giggles. ]

Of course I remember. [ A nonchalant shrug, as if he's oblivious to the simmering. ] Stabbed through the gut... bleeding out like a rat. It was really too pitiful.

Edited (god dw why can't you have an icon browser for everyone) 2014-04-08 11:19 (UTC)

[Reno's just... nodding, at first. Almost as if he's taking in what Ocelot's saying. Agreeing with it. Aside from the clenched jaw, he might even look like he doesn't care at all, but that's just the thin veneer of someone keeping their temper under wraps when faced with a spectacular confluence of events that makes them want to burn everything down.]

We're done here. [He backs up a step and turns on his heels to head off in an arbitrarily picked direction.] Real fucking nice seeing you again.

[ This is just too satisfying. Too sweet. ]

Leaving so soon? That's a disappointment.

[Reno stops in his tracks, frozen with indecision. Should he keep going? Walk away and get on with his day like this is nothing? Like he won't be stewing on this for days-- months to come?

No.

He turns back around and walks right up to Ocelot, close as he can get without being downright invasive. There's venom on his tongue but he swallows it. Swallows every insult and every memory that could possibly be ammunition in favour of being as clear and succinct as he can possibly be. There's a lot he wants to say, but there are entirely different things he should've said a long time ago.]

I'm not getting on this merry-go-round with you again. I am too old and too tired to entertain you while you worm your way under my skin and needle me like I'm some toy you can wind up and let go at your heart's desire.

[He gestures widely, at all of Discedo and its festering disrepair.]

Either make yourself useful, or fuck off. I've had enough.

[ For a moment there's genuine surprise even if he stands his ground, but the expressions turns just as quickly into one of smug satisfaction. A lack of sadism, this time around, like he's genuinely pleased at the turn of events and not because it's giving him a few more barbs to pull at. ]

About time you put your foot down. I was beginning to wonder if all the Turks were so easy to push around. [ And then, like this is nothing: ] Our first priority would be securing an HQ, don't you think?

[If Reno rolled his eyes any harder, he'd probably go blind. He sighs, but at least this is a nudge towards a tolerable working relationship to them. Assuming Ocelot can hold off on needling him long enough for Reno to forget how much he hates him.]

Best bet for a decent HQ is somewhere out of the way without much potential foot traffic in the area. [...] The office blocks on Liddell are probably best for seclusion, but somewhere like the Theatre's pretty out of the way, and better for space too.

[He inclines his head, gesturing somewhat in the direction he'd been headed before Ocelot got all button-mashy with his mood.]

Right now though, I'm more interested in finding essentials. Maybe a gun if there's any around and working. With the chip in I'm useless if it comes to it unless I get in close.

[ The Theatre. Where the Boss' crew set up shop. Yes, that would be a tactical advantage. ]

The Theatre it is. [ And what he's about to do next is something that should never be commented on, ever. Small sacrifices for potentially greater advantages. He reaches for one of the revolvers, unholstering it. ]

Don't waste bullets.

[Oh.

There's a brief hesitation on Reno's part - he wouldn't claim to have an in-depth knowledge of Ocelot's relationship with his guns, but he figures it's like his EMR. Something a part of him.

Ultimately though, he appreciates the pragmatism and takes the gun without comment. Checks the weight of it and the sight - he'd like to practice to make sure the sight lines up how he'd guess, but he'll just have to trust that it fires straight.]

Don't worry, I remember. [He checks the barrel and puts the gun away with what could almost be read as a smile.] Revolver rounds are in short supply.

[ An intimate part of him, something else that really shouldn't be commented on too deeply. There sure is something special about slamming silver bullets into a well greased chamber... ]

Don't remind me. [ Huff. ] I'd rather not need to save you off a roof again, so hold on to that. And get that damn chip out as soon as possible.

reno~ also excuse me while I tl;dr the hell out of the setting

your tl;dr is always beautiful (also i'm deciding reno is just BACK IN THE DISCO because of reasons)

because reasons is the best

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makes stuff up

it's so beautiful

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