HOME | DD

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Summary: The assassin looks back upon his life and the importance of eye contact, reflecting on how he has changed through out the years. It's never a bad time to reminisce, even if it is during the middle of a dirty job.
Pairing/Characters: Reno
Setting: FF7
Rating: PG-13
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

**ADDITIONAL: This backstory is a product of my own creative imagination and 100% original. Please, please, please do not take, copy or replicate any ideas, concepts or head canons from this work or any others. These ideas and concepts are very close and personal to me as the author, so please show respect. I hate to be so blunt, but sadly, I have been horribly burned in the past and had my ideas and head canons used without my permission and claimed as original works from others. Again, please show respect. With that said, please read and enjoy.

Never break eye contact.
That's all that popped into Reno's head as he stared down his target, his gaze menacing, penetrating a deep seeded fear into the heart of the weeping man before him. An amused smirked crawled upon the notorious killers lips at the memory that replayed in his head. Lost in the moment, the vicious wolfs eyes never strayed, never once being drawn away, not even as the wild animals prey finally broke, turning into a sobbing and distracting mess at the assassin's feet.

Calm and confident, the Turk exhaled the final puff of smoke from his cigarette, his reminiscing over as he tossed the smoldering cherry onto the cement floor next to his captive guest. In a smooth gesture, the redhead stamped out the burning tobacco with his battle scared boot, rolling his eyes at the intelligible words that weakened man attempted to plead, his words nothing more than a garbled, sputtering slur.

Despite the theatrical display, the assassin said nothing, his hardened eyes telling the only story that needed to be told, the important story, a story which didn't come with a happy ending. Intense and intimidating, the message was one that was impossible to ignore, even with the overwhelming silence.

------

"OWW!" the young Turk groan, rubbing the back of his head as he fought back a growl, sending a bitter scowl at his mentor, a threat he didn't intended to act upon. "Wut da fuck was dat for?!"

"Eyes up," Tesng pointed out sternly, giving a curt nod as he folded his arms over his chest, his correction stick once more resting on his shoulder, the dastardly weapon cocked and ready for another attack.

"Fuck you," Reno snapped back, an intense heat dancing behind his gaze as the boys eyes stared down the Assistant Directors, a little more bark and meaning behind this specific threat.

Even with the challenge, Tseng expression ever faltered, his expression never changed, like a marble statue the Wutaian's eyes locked with his pupils. And there the menacing gargoyle stayed, entwined in a silent battle with his student... until the redhead let his eyes drop to the floor.

Whack!

The action was as fluid and fast as a striking viper, although not nearly as deadly despite the resounding pain that followed, not to mention, lingered.

"Stop dat!" the Turk trainee snarled, taking a threatening step towards the Alpha Wolf who trained him, the pup puffing up his chest in a vain attempt to assert his dominance. Reno's advance was halted however, his steps cut short by the damn stick that Tseng carried everywhere with him while he was teaching, the same stick, that bane of the redhead's existence that mystically appeared at the teenagers throat, mockingly tapping the underside of the boys chin.

"Eyes up," the Senior Turk corrected once more.

The young wolf barred his teeth, lashing out to grab at the offending correction device, his movements slower than the Wutaian's resulting in an empty strike and another bump on the back of his head, a painful reminder to the trainee to mind his manners and watch his place. Tseng might have been purposefully prodding a reaction from the animal, but that didn't give the wild beast permission to forget who was actually the stronger of the two, to forget who was actually in the position of power.

An intense heat burned behind those aquamarine eyes as the pup attempted to defy the lesson, wanting so desperately to bite the hand that fed him, but alas, Reno knew better and eventually defeat set in and the boy let his eyes fall back to gaze at the floor, an unwelcome sign of submission.

There was another skull cracking reminder and a third bump to join its brothers on the back of Reno's head.

"Eyes up," Tseng forcefully reminded his student.

The redhead was becoming furious with the discipline, with the corrective measures he wasn't, apparently, understanding. The teenagers anger was starting to flare and with it, any chance of comprehension was quickly flying out window with the rising temper. The delicate balance between a painful lesson and stubborn bitterness was obvious to Tseng, the older man knowing his charge better than the hoodlum knew himself, so the Wutaian decided to help the trainee out, seeing as the idiot wasn't getting the point despite the repeated beatings.

"Never break eye contact," the Assistant direct pointed out. "Only those who are weak look away. Stand tall, be prideful and never back down. Have confidence in who you are and what you can do. Convey your authority through your eyes, commanding either respect or submission. Never cast your eyes towards the ground, that admits weakness. You should be the stronger, making your adversaries look away, that's how you assert dominance. That is how you win. That is how you instill fear. That is how you earn respect."

Tseng paused for a moment, giving his message a moment to sink in. Anger remained prevalent on the young Turks face, his chest heaving under the pressure of the building heat. The Wutaian sighed, shaking his head slightly in disappointment. It was an important lesson, one he could not let slide, so the old wolf decided to throw the young pup a bone, making the conclusion of the lesson clear, something that would be hard to ignore.

"I will have no weaklings in the Turks. If you wish to continue to ignore my words, then you can continue to look towards the ground and watch your feet walk right out that door. If I made the wrong choice, if you can't comprehend this lesson, then leave."

--------

Fear was what kept the boy alive. Fear is what fueled the slum rat's instinct to survive. Fear is what pounded in the childs chest every day, his heart pumping the adrenaline through his veins, keeping the youth on his feet and moving, despite the lack of nutrition and rest. Just make it to tomorrow, just one more day, that was the tiny redhead's mantra.

Walking the streets, little Reno hurried to drop his eyes to ground, his fear taking control of his actions after accidently making eye contact with a group of bigger boys off in the distance. Sneers and vulgar yelling altered the weak pup to his mistake, instilling the natural flight instinct as the young boy scampered away into the shadows, into refuge, his shoulders hunched and curled in to make himself a smaller target, making himself less of a threat. He didn't want the attention, he didn't want to have to fight... not again. He didn't want lose control. All the poor boy wanted was to be left alone.

So the tiny redhead did his best to try and remain unseen, that was the name of surviving in a predator laden world, the trick to surviving on the streets. Don't draw attention to yourself, stay low and hidden, do nothing to announce your presence and no one will notice you. That was how you stayed alive in the slums. It was a harsh reality but a theory that rang true, time and time again. Even after the boy grew to a teenager, his spirit broken, his temperament sharp and jaded leading Reno to become a vicious predator himself, the redhead still kept his gaze to the floor, watching the world from his periphery vision. It was a habit that was hard to break. A habit that had become so strongly engrained in him, that it has become a natural and automatic reaction, no longer even aware that he did it.

------

The Turk smirked at his thoughts, forgetting about his present company, entertained by the trip down memory lane, a reminder of how he had changed over the years, of how the savage wolf had become, for a lack of a better term, tamed.

Never break eye contact.

This was now the redhead mantra. This was how the Turk was still alive after all these years.

His reminiscing done, Reno leveled his gun at the begging man, the redhead's only solace a nonchalant shrug before he pulled the trigger, his eyes still focused on the carnage that took place as a result of his actions.