X/1999 Fan Fiction ❯ Mystic Fire ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Prologue: How it began

Never in my entire life had I ever expected anything like this. The most I ever expected in life was Death. I saw him when my parents died, I saw him as I grew up on the streets of the city just this side of Hell, and I saw him as I gunned down people as a Turk. This time, I saw him and knew that he had come for me. I had been badly injured during a fight with the members of AVALANCHE, damn those bastards. This time, I came face-to-face with Death and laughed in his face.
“You ain’t takin’ me without a fight,” I told him with a cocky grin on my face despite the pain that racked my body. “You ugly old bastard.”
The ominous laugh that emanated from him was probably enough to give even General Sephiroth a run for his gil. A shiver ran up my spine at the echoing chortle and I knew that I likely had no choice but to be accompanied by Death to the Promised Land. However, I was a Turk and Turks do not go down that easily. I was prepared to fight Death, give up my chance to see the Promised Land, just so that I could live, because I am one stubborn little bastard myself. If I could survive years on the streets of the most polluted city on Gaia, then I sure as hell could fight Death as I stood there, leaning against a wall for support.
Death approached me and I can still feel the incredible chill that radiated from him. The air, I remember, was thin and smelled so horribly that I nearly choked. His hand reached out to me, white, clammy, and cold, ready to take me by the throat and suck up the last shreds of life from my body. I remember I was weak from loss of blood and almost unable to move as I stared Death down.
Then something happened, and I’m not sure what it was, but the next thing I knew, my world was black and I couldn’t open my eyes. I had thought to myself right then that I had failed to fight off Death; that I was dead and I was a mockery to the Turks if I had lost that quickly. The thing was, if I was dead, why could I still hear the sounds of the city around me? Why could I smell the pollution in the air? Why was my subconscious still running like a chocobo with its head sliced off?
I tried again to open my eyes and after a moment, whatever had glued them shut cleared away and the first thing I saw was a light. Odd, seeing as it was dark when I fought with AVALANCHE. The second thing I noticed was that I was definitely not in the same alleyway as I was when Death approached. This one was a lot smaller and the buildings surrounding it were different from the cold steel that made Midgar the gray spectacle it was. These building were stone, with barely six feet between them. The third thing I noticed was that I was still injured, still broken, bruised, and bleeding.
I pulled myself up with much difficulty and slowly made my way towards the exit of the alleyway. What I saw on the street surprised me; there were people. I mean a lot of people. More people than I had ever seen before. Midgar, I knew, was not nearly this crowded. Sure, it was one of the main cities on the planet, but there just weren’t this many people in Midgar. Trust me, I lived there. Curious, I stepped out of the alley, grimacing as pain shot through my body with every step.
This city was definitely not Midgar. First glance told me that. Midgar was not this clean, not this organized, and not this bright. The lights that shone down from a number of poles that stood along the street reflected off various surfaces, almost blinding me. I reached up with a bloody hand and pulled down the tinted goggles I used to keep my bright red hair out of my face so that I could see. I saw too many people, too many cars, and too many buildings. And the people themselves were something to worry about. At first glance, to me, they all looked like they were from Wutai, the country that Shin-Ra, the company I worked for, had been at war with not that long ago. Should any of them realise that I was from Midgar, I was dead.
Then again, I had been to Wutai once before, as a bodyguard at a treaty agreement. This did not look anything like Mime, the city I had visited. The buildings there hadn’t been anything like the ones that surrounded me at this moment. And the people did not wear Wutain garb. Looking at the people that walked past me as I stood in the alleyway, they all wore business suits, men and women alike. On the rare occasion I would see a couple people dressed casually, most of them teenagers. Even some of the teenagers wore businesslike garb.
This city was definitely not Mime and most definitely not Midgar.
I limped onto the street, gathering odd glances from the mass of people around me. Some looked worried, some scared and even more disgusted at the sight of me. I knew I probably looked horrible. Bruised, cut and covered in blood, dirt, and sweat, limping and occasionally reaching to a wall to help me stand, I made my way down the street, hoping to find someplace to tend my wounds. My breath was becoming labored and my vision was beginning to cloud up. I couldn’t tell if my cloudy vision was my actual sight or my goggles fogging up, but I soon just closed my eyes and leaned against a wall. I couldn’t move anymore.
Someone spoke to me, gingerly putting a hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t even answer them, the pain was too great and I felt too weak. They spoke again to me, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I could barely even register that it was a male voice. Another voice accompanied it and I swear that was because I was going insane from the pain that filled my body. The two voices kept talking and talking, trying to get me to understand.
Before long, I could hear a shrilling noise that kept getting louder and louder. I pried my eyes open and met a pair of worried violet eyes. The owner of those eyes tried once again to speak to me, but this time, in a broken dialect that I only barely understood.
“Are you okay?” the violet-eyed person (I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman) asked.
“Fuck no…” I choked out. “I…am so dead…when Tseng finds me.”
It was about then that I think I passed out.

Author’s Note: Contrary to Of Spatulas and Frying Pans, I’m not making Japanese sound similar to Wutain, so Reno can’t understand what’s being said until the person talking to him tries English, which I’m making similar enough to Gaian that he can understand it.