Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Outsider ❯ The Whore's Perogative ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimers: I do not own FF7 or any of its characters. Damn I really wish I did …

 

This fic is rated X for sexual situations, nudity, drug use, violence, prostitution, and adult language. This fic has a lot of strong themes. If you do not like it, then I suggest that you leave.

 

AU. Reno is a young prostitute in Midgar's slums. By a strange turn of events, Reno has a similar mission as the Turks. There he meets Tseng, the exotic Wutanese Turk competing to become second-in-command. Once the ordeal is over, Turk recruitment begins and the trials of Before Crisis through Advent Children start to mold the relationship between the two.

 

 

NOTE:

 

-Veld was the leader of the Turks during the time before the events of FF7. He appears in Before Crisis, is mean, old, super anal, and heavily admired by Tseng.

 

-Tseng used to have a temper problem back during the Before Crisis days, so sudden loss of temper fits are not out of character.

 

-Most of the Turk information is based off on FF7: Before Crisis. So that means that when I say Tseng's hair is short, believe me it is short.

 

This fic was inspired by three things: Lady Kasai of aff.net, Nine Inch Nail's Hand that Feeds, and La Lola by Café Quijano.

 

I also wrote it because there is too much Elena X Tseng fanfiction popping up. It's time to even out those numbers.

 

Enjoy

 

-----The Whore's Prerogative

 

Tonight was the night where Reno's life would change forever. It was like any normal night of his usual line of work, except he had another sort of job to do. Perhaps, he mused, it would prove more interesting than his other jobs from before.

 

Wall Market was home of two rival gangs that fought for territorial rights. Reno was not in any of these gangs, but his current pimp was and required his young whore's assistance to finish the feud once and for all.

 

But Reno didn't do this because his boss asked him to or that he was going to get beaten into a bloody pulp if he didn't comply. No. He had other reasons to do such a dangerous mission. Sure his pimp gave him good incentives like keeping all the spoils and take one day's worth of whoring profits, yet the redhead had other things at mind.

 

The good thing about the job was that his procurer prettied him up to look less like a street whore and more like a young escort; no gang leader would take a dirty, scrawny whore. He got a bath, ate a full meal, got new clothes, and had most of his scars and bruises removed by a cure materia one of his pimp's cronies owned, and now the young prostitute was ready to complete his task. If he dies, he would be happy. If he lives, then more misery and yet some happiness will come to him. Either option was just fine to Reno, just perfectly fine.

 

A sleek, black and expensive car parked in front a night club. Three people dressed in navy business suits emerged from the vehicle and walked nonchalantly at the club's door. The driver was a new Turk named James. It was quite noticeable how excited he was about the mission. The Turk in the passenger side touched his shoulder and told him to relax. His name was Tseng, an old member. The last Turk that sat in the back was Lawrence. He was Tseng's rival to become second-in-command and liked to taunt his adversary with racist remarks about Wutai.

 

The large bouncer took at good look at the three men and opened the door without bothering to ask for any identification. He knew they were Turks just by the car that they arrived in. Classy, pricey and black… It read Turks all over. No one would even dare to touch the car. Everyone knew the consequences of messing with the Turks.

 

The loud techno music hit the Turks' ears as they entered, but they were not fazed, not even the beginner. They immediately sat at the bar, where they could have a good view of their target's location. Tseng ordered a shot of Jack Daniel's to appear that he was just there to have a drink; the new Turk imitated.

 

“Where's that douche?” Lawrence asked in annoyance.

 

Tseng looked at his drink and swirled the small glass gently. “He's either here or at the second floor. We have to wait and see.”

 

“I'll go check around the entrance to the second floor,” replied his rival.

 

“Be careful, they're more than likely armed.”

 

“Just keep an eye on things there. I'll come back if something's happened.”

 

Tseng nodded and drank the liquor. He looked at his partner who seemed to be concentrating very hard on looking for their objective. The elder sighed in pity at his enthusiasm. There was nothing wrong with having such zeal for one's job, but being so tense and uptight during a mission usually blinded one from their goal. Tseng remembered the days when he used to be all eager and willing for his assignments. It all ended when Veld set him straight.

 

`I owe so much to him,' he thought as he looked around the club. Just as he was about to order another shot a particular redhead caught his eye.

 

The boy looked around his early ears of adolescence, perhaps about fourteen or fifteen, and danced in the most provocative manner Tseng had ever seen. He wore a simple white sleeveless shirt and a pair of hip huggers that rode very low his waist. Most of his torso was dripping with sweat from all the dancing and glistened with the little light that was provided. Tseng was never an advocate for finding sweat attractive, but on this street urchin it looked very sexy.

 

The Wutanese Turk mentally shook his head. The kid was definitely a distraction, but as hard as he tried, his eyes would wander back into the direction of the redhead. Suddenly he noticed that the boy was dancing with a man. No, it was not envy, but a mere observation. The man was much taller than the dancer and dressed like he had a lot of money to spend. Around the pair were other men in uniform, apparently bodyguards of the elder and looked around the area in suspicion.

 

Bingo.

 

The gangster whispered something into the street kid's ear and pointed at the ceiling. The redhead smiled and nodded as he put his arms around the man's neck and gave him a kiss. The leader squeezed the boy's buttocks with his large hands and very roughly bit his shoulder. Although Tseng was too far to hear anything, he could tell by the look on the young man's face that the bite really hurt.

 

“He's a prostitute,” he thought aloud.

 

“Did you say something?” asked James.

 

“Yes. See those men with and that boy over there?”

 

“Yeah. Hey those are the guys!”

 

“Exactly.” Tseng reached into his pocket and took out a cell phone and a hair band. Carefully, he gathered his chin length hair and put it into a very neat ponytail, knowing that the situation will more than likely be very rushed and messy. He used his cellular and phoned Lawrence in order to avoid suspicion from walking to him or using a two-way radio. After giving him all the details, the Turks waited until the bodyguards went upstairs. The other guard standing in front of the second floor's entrance was just going to have to be removed.

 

“Mmm what's your name?” asked the gang leader as he led the boy into a bedroom.

 

“Reno.”

 

“You can just call me Q,” he replied with a smirk. Q was one of those typical gang leaders: large, crude and dressed in a tacky suit with a goatee. However, unlike others, he was a man that actually meant business. He was very well known in several sectors and does not hesitated to kill anyone, even women or children; Reno was definitely a child.

 

Q laid on the bed while Reno seductively straddled his waist and gave him another sloppy kiss. “Very nice,” he mused aloud as he fondled under the shirt to touch the young whore's torso. “How old are you boy?”

 

Reno answered with a sly grin, “Barely turned legal for this job.”

 

The gangster chuckled and pinched the redhead's left nipple hard, causing the boy to hiss in pain and pleasure. “I'm thirty-two.”

 

The Turks climbed the stairs to the next floor and stopped at the entrance. The three assassins nodded at each other and prepared to kick open the door. Each had a gun in hand ready to lay their life for ShinRa.

 

“Ready?” asked Lawrence, equipping a lightning materia to his wristband.

 

“As I'll ever be,” replied Tseng.

 

“Just don't be disappointed when Veld makes me second-in-command after we get back. No amount praying to your Da-chop suey is gonna get you the position.”

 

“Stop being bitch and get your ass into gear,” Tseng said with a snarl. There were six armed bodyguards in the next room, but to be on the safe side Tseng turned on his two-way radio to communicate with his boss who was on standby near the sector.

 

Lawrence kicked the door open while Tseng and James waited for a short moment then ran began to shoot the goons that got close to the door in bewilderment. One man fell dead and another was injured and the three Turks entered the room and began to fight with the other lackeys.

 

The new Turk was shot on his right arm while Lawrence was shot in the chest several times resulting in death. Tseng managed to remain unscathed and began to scream into the radio, “MR. VELD! RUDE! WE NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE NOW!”

 

Suddenly the two remaining Turks were surrounded by the bodyguards, each pointing their gun at them, ready to shoot. Tseng calmly closed his eyes as he felt his partner lean against his back. The mission was a fiasco and in the process of it he was going to die, they were going to die. The only shred of hope that the Wutanese had was if Veld and Rude instantly came to save the day, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. Just as the men were about to pull their triggers a very loud and disturbing noise came from the boss' bedroom.

 

“Aah baby, I think I heard some gunshots. Oooh…”

 

“Give me five minutes.”

 

The room where the fight ensued was eerily quiet and somewhat disturbed by the racket that continued to echo noisily from the bedroom. One of the men whispered to another next to him and approached the two Turks. Soon they found themselves bound to a chair, waiting for their impending doom.

 

Tseng looked at James. The wound was still bleeding, but not as much as it had been, and more than likely the bullet was still in his arm. If the newcomer did not get any medical attention soon, he would die from the lead in the bullet. Tseng did not want to lose another man again. Lawrence was indeed his rival and a racist son-of-a-bitch but he did not deserve to die in that way. Nobody really did.

 

The bedroom door opened and Q and Reno emerged. The redhead was clinging lovingly onto Q's arm, nuzzling his cheek against the fabric of his suit. Q was fully dressed, while Reno was missing his shirt. Tseng now had a better view of the boy.

 

From far away he could not tell if Reno had any markings on his body, but now that he had a closer perspective he saw several bruises and wounds on the boy's arms and torso. Many scars were old and faded, while the old bruises were large and purple, almost looking like the urchin was beaten with stones. The Turk's gazed lowered and focused on Reno's pants: the jeans were designed for a female. The boy was so thin that the only kind of pants that could fit him was a small size for a teenage girl; even then, the pants fit him loose.

 

“Bitch.” Q was talking to Reno. “Why don't you give the Wuk a good time?”

 

Wuk was the worst racial remark anyone could make for anyone from Wutai. Although Tseng kept a straight face, his blood boiled in anger.

 

Reno pulled away from Q lazily and walked seductively towards Tseng. When he got close enough, he straddled Tseng's waist and wrapped his arms around his neck.

 

“You're kinda hot, there yo.”

 

Tseng tried to move, but the restraints were tied too tight. This action caused the boy to smirk and playfully pat the end of his ponytail like a kitten would to a hanging object.

 

“Meow,” he replied in a childlike manner. “…I like your hair.”

 

Tseng could not figure out if the whore was being serious or if he was playing around. He wanted to just go and die with dignity. Being caught and tied up was bad enough, but having to be teased by some child prostitute was worse. Q definitely wanted him to die with all his dignity taken away.

 

`The sadistic bastard,' thought Tseng as he felt the tatterdemalion's hands roam down his chest and getting closer and closer to his crotch.

 

Suddenly the boy's gaze was focused on Tseng's eyes. The Wutanese stared back at his clear bright blue eyes, wondering what he was thinking. Then his eyes wandered a little off the boy's beautiful eyes too see the red markings on his face. Now Tseng was not a doctor in any way or shape, but he knew scars when he saw them. In this boy's case, they were tattoos. They had to be tattoos due to the bright color of the marks, the lack of injured flesh, and the perfect symmetry around the eyes. It looked good on the boy…

 

Tseng mentally slapped himself for getting off into a tangent, but he later regretted it when he saw that the redhead's hands were on his groin. His left hand remained on that spot, while his right went down his thigh and going down to his leg. The boy's body rubbed against Tseng's as he slid down to get better access to his leg. His left hand never left his genitalia.

 

All the men were snickering at Tseng's expense and made loud rude comments about the whore and the Turk.

 

“Ha, ha I bet he's small.”

 

“Yeah all them Wuks are the same.”

 

When he was satisfied with his fondling, Reno went slithered back up onto Tseng's lap and pulled him close. His tongue peeked out and began to lick the bottom of Tseng's left ear. Slowly he nibbled on the shell and touched Tseng's shoulders.

 

“Armpit and ankle,” he whispered, digging into Tseng's jacket and pants. Then he stopped and held onto his armpit and ankle. All of a sudden…

 

BANG! BANG!

 

All Tseng saw was a blur of flashing red and long lithe arms twirling to different locations in the room. By the time his mind recollected what had happened, the young prostitute had ducked and began to shoot two other bodyguards.

 

BANG! BANG!

 

Every bullet landed in the kneecap, neck or groin, causing the men to become too distracted to retaliate. Reno took advantage of this and shot Q two times in the stomach, making sure that he did not escape, but not exactly killing him either. The Turks watched in fear as the urchin approached every fallen bodyguard and shot their head and heart. After he was done, he begun to dig into their pockets and steal all the money and valuables he could find. It was obvious that he had no interest in the Turks, at least not yet.

 

“You sick son of a bitch,” replied the boy to Q. “Fucking pedophile.”

 

“Y-you little bastard!”

 

Reno walked menacingly, yet seductively towards Q, taking his sweet time to torture the gang leader.

 

“Who fuckin' sent you!?”

 

“No one,” he smirked. “Well actually I was supposedly sent by my pimp, a member of the Black Vendetta, but to be honest with you, I sent myself.”

 

The boy snorted and spat at Q's face. “Want to know why I wanna kill you, sicko? I'll tell you why even if you didn't want to know.”

 

Q howled in immense pain as Reno's foot began to crush his crotch mercilessly. “AAH!!”

 

Reno released the pressure from his foot and squatted above his chest, pointing the two guns at his head. “Your fucking whores took my fucking turf. I have a goddamn business to maintain, and I don't appreciate it when sons of bitches like you think you own the world and take property from poor, defenseless, underage prostitutes like myself.”

 

The leader squirmed in displeasure at the echoing pain of his groin continued to pulsate. He looked at Reno in fear. “You're fucking sick! All this over a piece of dirty land!?”

 

Reno slapped him with the blunt edge of the pistol. “I'm not sick. Sick is when a man fucks a boy half his age and threatens to kill prostitutes that were rightfully in a turf first. You're the sick one, bitch.”

 

Standing, Reno looked down at Q and sneered at his current disposition. “Aww did that hurt? Well you fucking deserved it. I may be a whore, but I ain't a moron. I got rights too. And now I'm going to use that right, bitch.”

 

Before he pulled the trigger, the boy made one last comment. “Oh and I faked my orgasm.”

 

BANG! BANG! BANG!

 

Reno kicked Q's motionless body and begun to kick it furiously. “That's what you get for you fucker!”

 

After he had finished his corpse-beating moment, Reno proceeded to rob whatever was in Q's possession. He looked around the room, stole one of the dead bodyguards' jackets, and put it on. He saw Lawrence's lifeless body and went to steal his axillary and ankle gun, but not right before he stole his wallet and watch.

 

“Leave his body alone!” hissed Tseng.

 

“Fuck you,” replied the redhead. “Yo and because of that, I think I should check out your other friend's pockets.”

 

James had already passed out from the ordeal. His breathing was shallow and his head hung low, but he was still alive by a thread. It did not matter to the urchin though. He dug into the rookie's pockets and stole all the gil he had.

 

“Three hundred gil, not bad.”

 

Tseng shook his chair, struggling against the binds in an attempt to get free. This only caused Reno to steal from his wallet as well.

 

“One thousand gil! Whoa! With this I can eat like three years worth of food! Shit man, you're totally my hero, yo.”

 

The look on Reno's face was one hundred percent sincere and happy. Tseng had never seen look so overjoyed for one thousand gil. One thousand gil was something he spent on expensive appetizers in very fancy restaurants, but this boy had money for food enough for three years. Three years! Suddenly Tseng began to realize that perhaps Wutai was not in such bad condition as the people from the slums… perhaps though.

 

“Hey babe thanks for the gil, yo. Maybe I can `sucky sucky' you for `ten giru' sometime,” he said imitating a false Wutanese accent and winked at Tseng.

 

“My comrades are extremely close to the club. They'll kill you without any hesitation. Cheap slut.”

 

“Ah to hell with ya. I was just trying to be nice, but you ruined it.” Reno rolled his eyes and got away through a window where there was a fire escape to the side. “Man what a douche bag…”

 

Tseng remained in the chair for another five minutes when Veld and Rude came over and freed him from the restraints. Lawrence was dead and James… well most bullets from the slums were poorly made and were completely covered with lead so he had some chances to live. This would mean that Tseng would most likely gain position as second-in-command of the Turks and that he and Rude would have to hunt to look for some more candidates for people to join the Turks.

 

And for some reason, the Turk knew where to look.

 

-----End of Chapter 1

 

So what did you think of the fic so far? My first chapters are always the most awkward. That's the only thing I can say in my defense.

 

This story will eventually have Advent Children spoilers, but it won't get to that for a while.

 

Please R&R!