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Summary: Rufus might have thought he got in the last word, but Reno was never one to go down easy, let alone let someone else get the last laugh. Pride can be a wonderful, yet terrible thing. Never go down without a fight.
Pairing/Characters: No Pairing/Reno and Rufus
Setting: FF7-Original Game/After Tseng's Death
Rating: M - TW: Violence and Blood
Status: Complete
Type: One Shot Drabble
Disclaimer: All related Final Fantasy names and characters are copyrighted © by Square Enix, however, the story, ideas, interpretations and original characters all belong to me.

It was an intense burning sensation, not that of a red hot poker sort of burning, but an ice like numbing sensation, not to mention that it was as uncomfortable as hell. Sure, leave it the redhead to describe a fatal wound to the chest, mere inches away from his heart, as just "uncomfortable," but that was just who Reno was.
Standing in the middle of Rufus Shinra's office, the now Director of the Turks stance never faltering, the once Second in Command stood there, his gaze upon the newly appointed President as harsh and unforgiving as it was before the stabbing. Blood seeped out the wound from around the blade, which was still stuck in the redhead's chest, the color red tumbling down his wrinkled white shirt like a cascading waterfall. It didn't take long for the droplets to hit the pristine carpet of the immaculate office. That was never going to come out. The stubborn son of a bitch couldn't hide his smirk at that fact, his bitter satisfaction clearly displayed for the young blond to see knowing that even after his death he was still going to be a thorn in Rufu's side. In fact, the deranged sociopath took so much pleasure in that idea, that he leaned forward, allowing gravity to help pull the still warm, staining liquid onto the fibers of the office floor, by passing the slow travel down his chest. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line after all. Swaying his body back and forth, a soft chuckle floating past his lips as he decorated the floor, the contrast between the off white and red seeming amazingly striking to the Turk, Reno eventually stood back up, giving his newly appointed boss a devilish smile. Even for Rufus Shinra himself, the expression was one that could not help but send a chill down the composed man's spine.
"So ya ain't used ta hearin' da word no," the quickly paling redhead scoffed back, not giving any indication that he was aware of his imminent death, not giving his attacker the satisfaction of letting him know that he won, even if the redhead no longer had a choice in the outcome. Reno was a fighter, refusing to give up even at the very end, holding a grudge until his last dying breath. "... but dun ya think dis is a lil drastic?" the arrogant redhead pointed out, his smirk only growing more smug.
Rufus, of course, didn't say a word.
Giving his usual snort of derision, Reno just rolled his eyes, reaching for the foreign object still stuck within his chest. He gripped the weapon with one of his hand, which was only now starting to shake, around the hilt and, having to use all of his strength, yet another sign of his impending doom that the stubborn assassin refused to acknowledge, pulled the blade out of his body, tossing it carelessly at the blonds feet.
"Here... I think ya dropped somethin', an' ya can take da damages outta my paycheck," the once Second in Command snapped back, sarcasm as thick as the blood that gushed from the fatal injury. And with that, still not allowing himself to accept the inevitable, at least not in front of his attacker, Reno turned to walk out the President's office, using the last of his strength to slam the door on his way out.