The Rise

He had been outside the city gates, once. He wasn't sure how, or why, but he remembered he had gone with his mother way back when he actually had one. He remembered how the fresh, open air had made him sick, and how shocked he had been when it actually got dark at night. He was so happy to get back to Midgar, to its recirculated air, perpetual lights, too much noise and too many people. There was a vague sense in his head that not every one in Midgar lived like this, but those were above plate people, and their world was as foreign as to him as the world outside the city gates.

Then his mom died, sick from some illness that had been going around their slum that year, and he had been sad but that was life. Bad breaks, kid, and he made a pretty comfortable home for himself in some jungle gym, underneath soft blue neon lights that looked almost like real daylight, forever stuck in dawn. That was until he learned to make his own money, doing unsavory odd jobs and errands for equally unsavory people, and upgraded to one of the so-called sector 9 coffins, one-room rectangular apartments that could just about fit a bed, a toilet, and a shower head that dangled over one of its corners. Nice and cozy, just the way that Reno liked it.

* * *

Shinra Tower rose up through the middle of Midgar, above the clouds, above any other building in the city. In a world where height and space meant status, it was a beacon and a reminder. Rufus Shinra looked out from one of the building's many balconies, into the sea of skyscrapers laid out below him. Their tops were visible above the clouds, which were not, only dark masses in the equally dark night sky. It made the buildings appear to vanish into nothing. A sea of glass and lights.

There was soft music coming from inside Shinra Tower. Rufus turned, straightening his jacket before returning to the party. . . a silly congratulatory party for the mayor's re-election, he believed it was. He didn't even know why his father participated in the sham politics of the day; one of his many pointless pursuits, Rufus gathered.

As he made his way into the room, he would offer no false smiles, would indulge in no small talk, and the sycophants who frequented these events would give him a wide berth even as they murmured about him behind their hands and napkins. Even as a teenager, he cut an intimidating figure, something he used to his advantage. He wouldn't even go to these parties at all, except for one reason: to let the people see the man who would, one day soon, be ruling them all.

* * *

Reno's second-hand bike sputtered to a stop about one block away from Seven's Pizza. He gave it a few kicks to no avail, and, after letting out a few choice four-letter words, left it on the side of the narrow, broken down street.

"Fucking piece of trash," he muttered, pushing his goggles up into his hairline and walking the rest of the way. Man, he really hoped she didn't die on him. . . as unreliable as she was, losing her would really put a damper on his work. Maybe he had just pushed her too hard. He had spent the day delivering packages back and forth through three sectors.

"Do not ask what's in the box," Tins had said, voice clipped and gruff, hands large and calloused around a comically small cardboard container. "Do not look inside the box. Take it, deliver it to this address. Get a new box. Get a new address. Rinse and repeat. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, old man," Reno had replied, grabbing the package and getting on his bike. "I know the spiel. That's why you hire me, yeah?"

Now, Reno was covered in soot, dust, and who knows what else, and shuddered to think what color the water would run when he washed off later tonight. He pushed the door open, making his way to slump down in a stool by the counter.

"Man," he started, the man behind the counter already pouring a beer for him, "it's been a long day."

"Every day's a long day for you, Reno," the man replied, a cheerful enough smile on his lips.

"We should trade jobs sometime," Reno said, and they both laughed at the notion. "Here's to you, Dill."

Dill nodded as they both tipped full beer glasses at each other. "You're just lucky your best friend works in a pizza place."

"Don't I know it. So what are you serving today?"

Dill's eyes lit up in a way that never ceased to send chills down Reno's spine. The boys had known each other for forever, them and Hedge, or at least what counted as forever below plate. Dill was, generally, an unassuming kind of guy, black-haired and brown-eyed, not as skinny as your normal slum punk and taller to boot. He was more than happy to keep himself out of the more dubious exploits common to the slums, working the counter at this place while Seven took care of other business ventures around town. His dream was to own his own food shack someday, if Seven would go in as the funding partner, but his dream was tempered by a palate that was, well. . . "Reno, you are going to love it. It's a peanut butter tomato sauce, topped with salmon and cheese."

"How about a slice of just cheese?" Reno asked. "My stomach's been doing cartwheels all day."

"No way, man," Dill said, his voice suddenly full of cold finality, "I need input. Test subjects, if you will."

"Thanks. That makes me feel loads better," Reno said, paling as a jumbo slice of the creation was unceremoniously slopped down in front of him. He picked it up and bit off a piece. "Not. . . awful."

"No nausea?"

Reno shook his head.

"Feelings of wanting to vomit?"

"No."

"Well, you're not turning funky colors this time." Dill smiled, seeming extremely happy with himself. "I dare say I've improved as a chef."

Reno nodded, cringing as he took another bite of the pizza. A flurry of long, spiky caramel-colored hair came into the store than, dropping leather-encased limbs down into the stool next to Reno.

"Hey, Hedge," Dill said. "How are things above plate?"

Hedge shook his head in exaggerated movements, his many facial piercings jingling as he did. "Man, those rich perverts are into some crazy shit."

Hedge's career path had found him in a job delivering discreetly-wrapped packages from a local porno store, mostly to above plate clientele with more degenerate tastes. There were, Reno supposed, some things you couldn't get even up in that little paradise of theirs.

An added benefit, or disadvantage, depending on circumstance and opinion, of Hedge's job was the loneliness common to some of those rich old ladies. Some of them took a very particular interest in Hedge, an exotic specimen in their monotonous lives, and it was no secret how he picked up some cash on the side. "Let me tell you what this one old lady asked me to do with her cat. . ."

"Hedge," Dill interjected, "too much information."

"Hey," Hedge said, a large smile spreading across his face, "if those little bitties want to put some extra money in my pocket, who am I to judge?"

"Little?" Reno scoffed. "I've seen a few of your women, and they're cows, yo."

"Hey, hey, out of the three of us, who exactly is doing the best, money wise?"

"I guess drinks are on you tonight, then," Reno said.

"Cheers to that," Dill agreed, and the three toasted to Hedge's hard-earned cash.

* * *

Reno sent his fist down into some guy's face, hearing bone crush underneath the steel knuckles he had put on. He looked at the guy's face, pulpy and purple, and wondered if he had done enough.

"Client wants some one beaten up," Tins had said, passing Reno a photo through the small slot in the bullet proof glass of his weapons shop. "Name and address on the back. Not enough to kill him, but almost."

Reno had only nodded. . . asking questions, after all, was dangerous business in his line of work. As it was, Reno dropped the lapel of the guy's polyester suit, giving him a few kicks in the stomach for good measure. The guy had been unconscious for awhile now, but now his breathing had slowed noticeably, and Reno figured he had done his job. Well, another day another dollar, he thought, and he preferred these jobs over delivering packages all day. Hedge might enjoy playing delivery boy, but Reno wasn't a fan.

Reno wiped his hands on the guy's suit and stood up, slipping the knuckles into his sweatshirt pocket. He made his way out of the alleyway and around to the main thoroughfare, on his way back to Tins' place. He made it maybe three blocks and was rounding a corner when he saw the man coming out of a bar: a blue suit. The navy blue rich wool that other people just didn't wear, and even a slum punk like Reno knew what it meant.

Blue suits meant Shinra, Shinra meant money, and money meant power.

Reno slowed down as he walked towards the blue suit, openly staring at the man, tall and cool as he leaned against the wall.

"Hey, kid," he said as Reno walked by, "got a light?"

Reno stopped, nodded as he reached into his pocket. In one smooth movement he lit the man's cigarette and had the lighter back in his pocket.

"Thanks," the man said, taking a drag of his cigarette. When he blew out the smoke they were perfect, concentric rings.

"No problem," Reno said, digging his hands deeper into his tattered sweatshirt before walking off.

He found Tins in the backroom of his weapons shop. Not that the old man did that much in the way of weapons. . . what he sold was supplemental to his little outsourcing business.

"Yo," Reno said, making his way over, "job's taken care of."

"Jesus, kid!" Tins nearly shot up from where he was taking apart a rifle. "How the hell did you get in here?"

Reno shrugged. "Picked the lock."

"I'm not going to get any complaints on this job, am I?"

"Do you ever with me?"

"Not yet," Tins capitulated, taking some bills out of his pocket and counting them out for Reno. "Don't show up to work tomorrow. I'll be gone for awhile."

"Wait, what? For how long?"

"For an indefinite period of time," Tins answered.

"But what about me? What am I gonna do for work?"

"Not my problem," Tins said. "Now get out of my shop."

Reno clenched his fists by his side, but if Tins was closing up for awhile, what the hell was he supposed to do about it? He settled for kicking a nearby bucket across the room, screws falling out in an arch, before stomping out of the shop. Well, shit. . . he went through his contacts in his head, thinking about who he could and should hit up for some work. He had enough money in his pocket for maybe a week's worth of expenses. He could maybe squeak by for longer, but he needed more cash for when his rent came due, or else it would be Dill's couch for awhile.

That was where he headed now, knowing Dill would be working at Seven's at this hour. Reno was a quiet storm as he crashed through the door and sat down at the counter, and Dill knew enough about him that he just poured him a drink and didn't question him. After an hour of stewing and a few beers, though, Dill couldn't really keep from saying anything.

"Reno, you're scaring away the customers. Maybe you should go drink somewhere else."

"Can't afford it. Tins is closing shop for awhile. Looks like I might be headed for a dry spell."

"You're a resourceful guy, Reno. You'll find work. I can always talk to Seven if you want."

"He needs some one tailed or beaten up? Cause I'm not interested in food services."

"You never know."

And Reno was never more grateful than when Dill put a slice of plain cheese pizza in front of him.

The next day Reno woke up with a splitting headache. Fucking alcohol. How could something so perfect turn on you so violently the next day? He made a blind grab for the pack of cigarettes he knew was going to be on his bedside table, making several attempts before he connected with them. Slender fingers fumbled to get a cigarette out, but then it was in his mouth and he was taking a drag, and he felt minutely better. Better enough, at least, to sit up, back hunched over his lap, as he wondered what he was going to do with his day.

First stop: Wall Market. Reno made his way to the cramped office of a bookie he knew, hoping he could get some work in enforcement or debt collection.

"A scrawny kid like you?" the bookie asked, laughing a little.

"Come on," Reno insisted. "You know I can take on guys bigger than me any day."

"Sorry, Red. I'm not looking to hire any muscle right now."

Reno mad his way through his list of contacts, but everywhere he went he heard the same thing. Tough luck, not hiring. He was really at the bottom of the barrel when he found himself in front of Gabe Mortimer. Mortimer was generally involved in things Reno saw as antithetical to his survival. The redhead was all about taking chances, but he was smart enough to stay away from anyone who might kill him, and Mortimer made it a habit to get involved with people he shouldn't.

The man eyed Reno carefully from across the desk, shifting his sizable weight forward. Three-hundred pounds of pure muscle, Reno sometimes wasn't sure how the guy could even move. "I might have something. All my boys are working on other things right now, and you've done good for me in the past."

"Yeah, Mort, you know I don't disappoint."

Mortimer's chair creaked loudly as he leaned back in it, tenting his large fingers in his lap. "There's something I want. Maybe, my man, you can go get it for me."

* * *

Reno smoothed down the silk purple dress shirt he had borrowed from Hedge. Fancy. That and the skinny black pants and he could almost pass as an above plater. A lower class above plater, but that was just fine and dandy for his purposes tonight. He was at some type of social club. . . a Honeybee Inn, he guessed, for a classier crowd. It sat right on plate, the ground floor of some mega-building. He lounged on one of the swank, electric blue and black couches, flirting and chatting it up with the girls who worked there, careful not to let any of them talk him into buying them a drink. His attention, however, was elsewhere, eyes lazily scanning the room in a way as not to be noticeable to others. Twenty minutes in that place and then he saw him, bookish, slender, grey streaks in his black hair. He chatted some more, eyes always on that man, and when the man got up so did he.

"If you'll excuse me, girls, nature calls."

"Come back soon, Reno," they cooed, even as their eyes scanned the room for more willing customers.

Reno followed the man, who was indeed heading to the bathroom. He was only a few feet behind him, but his footsteps were falling snow, and the target didn't even notice him. There was a man at the urinal, and Reno winked at him in a knowing way as he followed his target into the stall.

"Perverts," the man muttered. The target was finally aware of the presence behind him, was turning around, but the door was already closed and it was too late.

Reno saw the shock in his eyes but didn't even let him get out a sound. In an instant he placed a well-aimed punch into the man's stomach, simultaneously placing an arm around his back so he didn't make any noise on his way down to the floor. Sure enough, the man crumpled into his arms, and Reno laid his unconscious body down gently on the toilet. He made quick work of the target's pockets, keeping the cash he found as an extra bonus for himself.

"Gotcha," he whispered, grin spreading over his face as he found what he was looking for. A black and white USB drive. What was on it, Reno didn't know and didn't care, but he knew he was going to make enough to live on for the next year once he got it back to Mortimer.

"Did you lock the door?"

Reno looked up at the sudden voice, then looked down, below the walls of the stall. Expensive, steel-toed black dress shoes, and navy blue wool. Shit. Reno moved slowly, surely, as he went to stand on the rim of the toilet, making sure neither his nor the target's legs were visible under the stall.

"Yeah. No one's getting in."

"What about Wong?"

"He knows to knock."

Reno froze. Wong. . . shit. Fuck. What had he gotten himself into this time? As it was, he was pretty sure Wong wouldn't be knocking on the door, since Wong was currently passed out in a toilet stall with one street kid from below plate.

"Who is this fucker anyway? Never heard of him."

"Wutai government. Defector or something, I dunno."

Wong moaned then, a short, barely audible thing, but the whole room froze. Reno held his breath as he felt his heart race, listening to the footsteps as they came closer. . . closer. . . closer.

The door swing open.

"Hey, I think I found Wong," the blue suit in front of him said, a sadistic smile spreading across his face, "with an extra bonus, even."

Reno had a decision to make, and half a moment to make it in: die now, or make an enemy of Shinra, Corp. and die later. He chose the latter. In an instant there were knives in his hands and he was swinging out at the blue suit, movements graceful and jagged at the same time, instinctual movements that came not from formal training but from a life spent on the wrong side of the plate. A slice of red on a cheek, a fist coming at him, a dodge and a well-placed kick. The blue suit was going down, down long enough for him to run, knives out as he ran towards the next blue suit.

The other one was already running towards him, nunchuks out, and they were hitting him against his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled, and the blue suit took the opportunity to get a punch into the side of his face, but he was swinging his arm around. The guy screamed when the metal of Reno's knife was stabbed into his bicep, and Reno knocked him to the floor, running past him to get out of the bathroom and out of the hallway.

And all in under a minute.

Reno pushed girls and clients out of the way as he ran through the club. There were surprised screams and footsteps coming after him, and all he knew was that he had to lose these fuckers and fast. Then he was rounding a corner. The first thing he saw was a white suit, blue eyes both cold and amused. Blue suits flanking him, and Reno had his knife out, looking for a way through in the split second he had before running into them. But the element of surprise was against him and they were in a more stable position, so when Reno swung his knife out at the man in the white suit, he found his arm captured in a harsh grip and twisted around, then felt the sting of cold, hard metal smash into his cheek. His vision blurred, and then it went completely black.

* * *

A gentle humming. And. . . cold air, against his skin. Air conditioning? He had felt it, once, sneaking into what passed for a high-class restaurant below plate. He was kicked out a minute later, but he remembered that feeling, his skin tingling with it even hours after he was pushed into the stale humidity that lingered always in the walled city below plate.

Reno opened his eyes. His face throbbed from where it had been hit with the butt of a pistol. His wrists were sore, and he realized that there was rope tying them together and above his head. It was dark in the room, dark like the night sky outside Midgar, with only a dim, flickering ceiling fixture to provide the light. Reno stirred, eyes widening as he became more aware of one singular fact. He was completely naked.

He struggled a little bit as he became aware of his position. He was kneeling on a bed, legs spread apart using ropes at his ankles, arms together and stretched upwards towards the ceiling. He pulled at them, but only hurt himself more than anything else. There were too many ropes and they were too tight.

"I have to say, I'm quite enjoying the view right now." The voice was a frigid blast of air, and Reno couldn't help the shiver that went down his spine. He opened his mouth to shout some kind of obscenity, only realizing then that it was wrapped around a sphere-shaped gag.

Instead, he focused on the other man in the room. He was sitting in a chair by the table, a glass of some amber-colored liquor in his hands. The man in the white suit. Reno could get a better look at him now. Short, straw-blond hair and eyes the color of glaciers. The man was slim, but not skinny, filling out his perfectly-tailored suit. And he looked young. Maybe even Reno's age.

He got up, moving towards Reno, those classically handsome features coming better into view. He had a vial in his hand, some orange thing filled with pills or tablets, and he shook one out into his palm before discarding the bottle onto the bed.

"I hope you don't mind the accommodations," he said, moving forward so one knee was on the bed. "We're still in the Blue Room, you see. Their private rooms leave much to be desired, but they'll do for our purposes. They're far better, I'm sure, than what the likes of you are used to."

Reno yelped around his gag as a cold hand reached down past his balls, a finger pressing just slightly against his ass. His eyes widened as he realized the guy was pushing one of those pills up there. He struggled, more than anything scared of whatever unknown drug was being introduced to his system, but with the ropes he couldn't really do much.

The hand moved upwards to brush Reno's hair out of his face, tracing down to his lips.

"Your lips really do look delicious around that gag. I wonder what they would look like wrapped around. . . other things."

A flick of the man's wrist and the gag was suddenly falling out of his mouth.

"Perverted fucker!" Reno screamed, before he was viciously backhanded. There was a force behind it that made black spots appear in his vision, and then his hair was being grabbed in the man's fist and pulled back almost to the point of neck breaking.

"I think that you will find it wise to cooperate," the man said, his eyes clear and cruel as they looked down on Reno. "If I don't kill you, there are plenty of men outside this room, outside this building, who will, Reno."

Reno laughed, because, at this point, what could he do? The guy had checked his id; Shinra knew who he was now. He was probably as good as dead. "Yeah? So what do you want? Information? Who sent me and all that jazz."

"No. Information is something we have an abundance of."

"Yeah, so. . . a little stress relief, then? Fun with the slum punk before you let him run back to the gutter?"

"What makes you think we'll be letting you go back? Alive, that is."

The man let go of Reno's hair, and his head fell forward again. He carefully schooled his expression into nothingness, but his heart was racing at the speed of sound. Patience, he thought. As hotheaded as Reno could be, he knew that when he was outmanned or outgunned, patience was the best thing a guy could have going for him. Wait for an opening, any opening, and take it. All you had to do was survive until then.

"Just kidding," said the man, his tone a twisted mockery of how a normal person would joke around. "If you behave, I'll let you go."

"Yeah." Reno gulped, almost inaudible because his throat was so dry. "Whatever."

The man was standing in front of him now, and Reno closed his eyes as he heard a zipper being pulled down. Something was pressing against his lips, hard flesh, and Reno instinctively moved his mouth away. Another backhand, harder this time and from the other side, and Reno swore that he saw stars.

"I can make this much more unpleasant than it has to be," came that cold, cold voice. "And I think it goes without saying that if I feel even a hint of teeth, you'll be dead a second after."

Reno nodded, his mouth only slightly parting, but the man used the opportunity to ease his length into it. Reno gagged after it was about halfway in, thick and heavy on his tongue, but tried to relax as the man seemed intent on pushing the whole thing down his throat.

"Well. Don't you look pretty like that."

Reno glared his best with a cock in his mouth, but then the man's hand was grabbing the hair at the back of his head and pushing it forward. He had to concentrate on not gagging, especially when the man started moving his hips in long, forceful thrusts. Reno was starting to get dizzy, a funny feeling spreading through his head and his body, concentrated on the hardness that was beginning to grow between his legs. He moaned around the cock that was fucking his mouth, wishing he could reach down and touch himself, wishing he could reach around to pull that cock deeper into his throat.

"I see the drug is kicking in," the man said, almost breathless. His hands on the sides of Reno's face, he pulled his cock slowly from his mouth, Reno leaning forward in a futile attempt to follow it. Reno had to settle, instead, on reaching his tongue out to take a ball into his mouth, sucking gently as he swirled his tongue around it. He was so hot his body felt like it was on fire, his cock so hard he felt like it could burst. What had the man put inside of him?

But then a tension was being released from his wrists, and he was sliding onto his side on the bed. Two well-lubricated fingers were pushing at his opening, and he tried to squirm away, but his limbs felt heavy.

"Stop," he murmured, barely able to pant out the word.

"You say stop, but look at how hard you are." The man wrapped his other hand around Reno's erection, squeezing out the drops of pre-cum that had gathered on the tip. Meanwhile, his fingers pushed themselves into Reno's entrance, and Reno gave a gasp as they sunk in. "And look at how your body just sucked my fingers in. This ass was made to take cock."

"Bastard," Reno breathed, no conviction at all in his voice.

He was being turned over to his back now, the man, still fully clothed, taking position between his legs. The man's cock was pointing up over the open fabric of his pants, long and slender, the color of a blushing peach, and Reno wished he could take it in his mouth again. What the hell was wrong with him. . .

The man's hands were on the inside of his thighs, applying pressure, and Reno helped to spread them wider for him. The man was kneeling, was pulling Reno half onto his lap, upper back still on the bed, and Reno could feel the tip of his cock at his entrance.

"Don't," he said, cringing as he felt the head of it breach his opening. He moaned, more in pain than in pleasure, as the man slowly pushed in and out of him, each time forcing in another inch. It hurt. Not so much to be unbearable, and not as much as his first time, but there was a dull pain nonetheless.

Reno arched his back as the man was finally in all the way, his balls pressed against Reno's ass. It had been so long, too long, since he had felt so full. The pain was gone now, and he tried to wriggle, tried to move, anything to gain some friction. He didn't have to wait long, though, and then the man was thrusting in and out of him, fucking him, and it felt so good to have a cock inside of him like that.

Reno didn't know how long it took, but then he was coming, white spurts falling out onto his stomach as his cock twitched violently, coming harder than he ever had before. His vision darkened, and then it was just black.