Reno, or the boy, took pride in his new name. He had never had a name before, and it was
amazing how much identity he began to obtain since the caretaker had spared him some
empathy.
Today was another one of the Professor’s tests however, and it had put him in a foul
mood. He sat with this back to the wall on the cot, his knees curled up to his chest, and
his head rested there. The window was finally opened since the interrogator had expressed
discontent with the smell, and since he had to enter the room every so often he had
demanded the it be opened. He sat, looking longingly out.
He walked up to the window, and put his hands against the bars. One of them however, came
loose. He looked at the door to make sure the guard hadn’t heard, and tried to fiddle
with it again. The entire bar came out.
He looked excitedly at the other bars, and began to wiggle them. They too, from lack of
use (curse the Professor’s cruelty), had begun to rust. He pushed them all out, and
climbed out the window onto the balcony. Looking down, he could see he was up a good
number of stories.
He slowly began a descent across the building to another open window. Crawling in, he
realised that he was in an office filled with scattered paperwork.
He was about pass through, when he noticed something on the desk.
Black sunglasses.
‘So…this is…?’ he thought, ‘the caretaker’s office?’
He bent down, examining some of the paperwork.
'So that’s his name… ,' he mused.
The title at the top of the page was scrawled with a meticulously neat date, and the
caretaker’s name.
‘Rude,’ he said aloud, experimenting with the name.
‘Yes?’ came an answer from the door way.
Suddenly, Reno realised who exactly had returned to the office. At the same moment, Rude
realised who exactly was in the office.
Before he could react, Reno bolted like a frightened rabbit down the hall, out the
opposite door. He barreled toward the stairway that he knew was there. The caretaker, or
‘Rude,’ wouldn’t intercept him this time.
He ran desperately down a massive staircase, which was so long he figured that it must
lead to the bottom. Finally, he reached a door. He pushed.
It wouldn’t budge.
‘No!’ he cried out in a rare display of anguish.
With that, suddenly, fire bloomed around him and he blew open the door with his slight
magical gift, or otherwise called a limit break in Midgar. It wasn’t particularly
strong, but enough to blow open a locked door.
Feeling drained by now, he still rushed out to the front of the Shinra
building. He couldn’t see Rude, or the interrogator anywhere.
He began to run, as fast as his legs would carry, red hair whipping behind him, toward a
sewer grate he could see to be the closest exit.
The footsteps began then…throbbing in his head, and closing too quickly for his
liking behind him. Curse his wasted body!
The unthinkable happened. He tripped. Of all the times he’d ever had remarkable
balance, he tripped then. All that bad luck amounted to that moment. He cursed Shiva and
tried to get back up, but was bowled over by his pursuer.
He turned to see who it was, but could not quite catch a glimpse. He struggled on, kicking
his legs with all of his strength, reaching desperately toward freedom. He cried out in a
frenzied, muffled fashion and to his surprise and luck, his captor released him. He did
not have time however, to open the sewer grate, so settled for running at full speed away
from the Shinra building.
But, his luck failed this time, again he was firmly clasped in someone’s arms, his
back to them, a knife at his throat.
It was Rude, he could see, and he recognised the stature.
‘What…do you think you’re *doing*?!’ he growled maliciously.
And, hissing right back at him, came the boy’s reply, ‘Taking a name, and
getting the hell outta here.’
Rude didn’t reply, but the knife got tighter, he thinking it might intimidate the
boy. It did just the opposite.
‘Kill me Rude,’ he whispered frantically, ‘kill me.’
Rude hissed through his teeth and turned the boy to face him.
‘No.’ Hoping to frighten the boy, he narrowed his eyes and struck him.
The boy merely stared back, got up, and looked into his eyes. They were shaded by his
sunglasses, but he knew what they looked like.
‘Kill me now,’ he urged, ‘for I have nothing to live for. Nothing but
misery, and despair. The Professor can find a new specimen…
'Please, just kill me,’ he whispered.
Suddenly, he grabbed towards the Turk’s face and ripped his sunglasses off.
‘Look at me with your real eyes,’ he shouted, ‘and let me go! I have
nothing outside, nothing inside…NOTHING. Just, kill me.’
Rude stopped glaring, stopped holding the knife at him…
He sighed. Of all things, he sighed. A very uncharacteristic gesture.
‘I won’t kill you.’
Then the cringe came to Reno’s frantic face, and he dropped his head.
‘Then you, pitiless monster, are worse than them,’ he hissed quietly.
He flinched, waiting for the strike to come. It didn’t. He looked up to find Rude
staring at him with empty eyes.
‘No one has ever had the guts to say that before,’ he said quietly.
The boy just looked steadfast. Without thinking, he grabbed the knife out of the startled
Turk’s hand and stabbed himself. Two times, and fell in his own pool of blood.
He woke up.
He smiled…he was finally at peace. Darkness surrounded him, infinite sanctuary that
blessed him.
Muffled voices…angels?
‘…he *what*?’
The interrogator?! What…had he gone to hell?
‘You’re awake,’ Rude’s voice said almost silently from the darkness.
‘No…,’ he whispered, ‘no…take me back…please take me
back..’
He curled up into a tiny ball on the familiar hard cot and began to mutter things.
‘Please,’ he prayed to an unknown spirit, ‘take me back to that
place…please…please…,’ he pleaded desperately over and over again.
He could hear Rude sigh.
‘What do you care?!’ he hissed at his demon.
There was no answer. He turned his back to his captor even further away now, and as he
did, his wound began to bleed again. Two stab wounds to the shoulder, he could already
tell. But he didn’t care…
‘Your wound…you’re bleeding,’ the caretaker’s quiet voice warned.
Reno did not answer.
‘Reno, let me bandage your –‘
‘No.’ He was cut off abruptly.
He knew if he bled, he would die. And that’s what he wanted.Suddenly, the door burst
open, and the interrogator rushed in.
‘The professor requests nameless’ presence.’
Reno smiled.
‘Why sir, I’d be happy to go…’
The interrogator gave him a dangerous look, but as he went for his knife, he saw that Reno
willingly got up and offered his hands to
be cuffed.
‘That’s more like it…’
‘What’s your name?’
‘I don’t have a name, sir.’
‘Oh, of course not,’ the interrogator laughed lightly.
‘And who are you?’
‘I’m no one, sir.’
‘Good. And who’s are you?’
‘Yours, sir. And the professor’s, sir.’
‘Good my boy, maybe you won’t become a martyr after all.’
Reno bowed his head in submission.
Rude watched with a look of absolute disgust as he diligently gave answers to the
interrogator. ‘No,’ he cried in his head, ‘you’re Reno! With the
unshakable will, with the beautiful face, with…the guts to face down even me.’
The interrogator looked at him.
‘What do you say, Rude? How about giving the boy here a smack on the face just to
prove who’s boss?’
Rude looked as if he’d been stabbed.
‘Already did, sir,’ he excused gruffly.
‘That’s the spirit!’ he guffawed.
Reno still had his head down.
‘Come along now, nameless.’
Reno didn’t move, but the boy's legs began to walk.
The fire burned again. His body went into spasms, but he
would not cry out. Again and again, pain marked its territory upon his…no, not
his….the professor’s body. It was his body, but the professor owned it.
The boy had turned 18 finally. A month had passed since the incident with the attempted
escape, and as long as he was submissive and lowly, the interrogator remained in good
spirits with him. The professor always seemed satisfied however, and Reno always wondered
why.
He hadn’t spoken to Rude since that day, but for some reason the caretaker still
remained vigil over him.
The professor gave him the last injection of the day. Rude too, was in the room for some
strange reason, and had insisted on escorting the boy everywhere. No one questioned him
however, since he was one of the Turk’s most valuable assets. His rank was higher
than even the professor’s, so anything he said went.
Today, he sat drowsily in the end of the room, keeping half closed eyes on the professor.
He eventually dozed off however, and Reno sat on the dissecting table, getting ready to
return to his cell.
The professor, however, had other ideas.
‘Boy, I hear tell you have become well behaved from…oh, what do you call him?
The interrogator? I must test this.’
Reno shrugged. ‘Whatever you say, professor.’
He didn’t care. More pain was more pain…he could handle the physical pain they
dished out nowadays. However…he wasn’t expecting what came next.
