towerofanimus | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Characters: Reno, (see prompts) and OPEN
Setting: Floor 38, a lounge floor
Format: Either
Summary: He'd been complacent for far too long. It was time to act, to prepare and plan and scope out opportunities.
Warnings: Language, character instability, intolerable levels of cuteness, also Reno being somewhat crude and a jackass.

Standing in front of the large windows that made up the walls of Floor 38, Reno adjusted one of the gloves that came with the uniform he had found in his trunk. The fit was perfect. The uniform, immaculate, and every snap, button, and zipper was in perfect military order. The only additions he made was the shell tied to a bright green ribbon, underneath the shirt. The familiar red and black headpiece covered his now extremely short hair- something he had taken care of at his first convenience-, masking his face in a way the bandanas alone hadn't managed. The sun was out, chasing away the dark week they had spent trapped in 5-14. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a Turk.

Waking up this morning, he could barely wait before the sleep paralysis lifted- lasting longer than he had ever endured before. It seemed to stretch on for another week before he got the feeling back in his limbs and sit up. It was like a breath of fresh air, being clean and uninjured, but instinctively he had scrambled around for the EMR on his belt and held it tightly before he could relax. There was some disorientation during those first few minutes, as well. The last thing he remembered had been intense, horrible pain, far beyond his threshold, then nothing. Dying had seemed almost a relief in retrospect, but the claustrophobia he had started feeling in 5-14 started to surge again, and he reached for his trunk to change his clothes and go somewhere a little more open.

That was when he found the uniform, stashed neatly as you please inside.

He almost yelled when he saw it, feeling the hair on the back of his head stand up. It was the mask of a Raven, one of Fuhito's own elite soldiers. Memories of pitched battles and blood flashed across his vision. Swearing creatively, mostly involving the various body parts of summoned deities, he wanted to tear it, to rip it to shreds, to burn it into ashes until there was nothing left. The Tower was playing another game on him. Reaching inside to tear the uniform up, he stretched the fabric between his palms.

Then he paused.

Staring at the uniform, he lowered it again.

An AVALANCHE uniform, huh?

The idea slowly made its way through his head, and a soft chuckle escaped. It wouldn't be the first time he went undercover... but, ironic, he would wear the uniform of the organization that had been his sworn enemies for over six years, for a sense of anonymity. It was strangely fitting, in a way. Here he was, about to initiate a rebellion of his own against those who caused so much pain and suffering; might as well look the part. He wasn't stupid enough to think the world only worked in black and white; good guys and bad guys.

A small part of him wondered what his fellow Turks would think of him now, wearing this thing. Rude would probably say he was either crazy, or a genius. It was no wonder Reno felt those two things were more hand in hand than it seemed. The line itself was very thin, and Minerva knew how many people had been in Shinra that fit the description. Including him.

He was going to settle for crazy.

Shortly after donning the black uniform, he had left notes on various name plates, leaving different times to meet him in the 38 lounge. It was going to be a busy day, he could already tell. That was why he had brought up some food from the cafeteria. He wasn't expecting to get back to the dorm room any time soon. The fuck if he let the Tower get him down. This was better than being caged. He needed to set out feelers, get a good sense of the Tower.

Reno tapped at the glass of the window, watching the reflection, feeling... strangely calm for the horror he had just gone through. The feeling wasn't unfamiliar. He'd had it many times; an after effect of similar situations he had been in. The last time... when was the last time? Oh yeah. Sector 7. It was that same calm feeling he had in the aftermath, as Midgar's entire horizon was changed forever. That time, it had ended in the deaths of thousands of innocents. This time, he hoped to save them.

Elena

This note is left fairly early in the morning, as soon as he leaves his room
E - @ 3
8
Any H
-R

Shion

This is a note stuck on either Shion, his trunk, or his bed. There's no name, but it should be pretty obvious because only Reno would leave a note on Shion himself.
S - @ 3
8
1100h

Reno figured it'd be best to give Shion some time to breathe, but he didn't expect the kid to wait to find him.

Xion

This one is stuck to Xion's name on the nameplate.
X - @ 3

8
1200h
-R

justabignobody

This note is attached to Riku's door.
Riku
Floor 38. Today. Any time you can.

Prompt 5 - Open

The other times, where he wasn't meeting with someone, Reno walked around the lounge, sometimes going to the floor above or below depending on where his feet took him, holding what looked to be a notepad (swiped from Shion, in fact), jotting down things from time to time. The headgear effectively masked his face, preventing most people from recognizing him. Should anyone walk by, though, he's more than willing to say "Hey" or otherwise engage them in conversation. Intelligence wasn't going to just come to him, after all. Good luck trying to get that visor off to see his face.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Oh. Well, that was comforting. He's still got his eye on the bird, though.]

Heh, thanks for bein' efficient.

[Well, it did work.]

Not many technological telepathic birds here. Is that regular back where you come from?

Just usually? You mean you can change?

[Now he's wondering how that's possible with wireframe bodies.]

<Yeah. I can show you. ... You might wanna look away if you're grossed out easily, though.>

[He lands on the floor nearby, and his body starts to shift, stretching and deforming and feathers drawn into skin and limbs shriveling and then reinflating, until after a minute or so there's a dirty-blond haired boy sitting on the floor in one of the skintight outfits everyone wakes up in.]

[Nah, Reno's not bothered at all by that kind of stuff. He's honestly seen worse watching Genesis clones, and Samples, and Unknowns...

Man, that Gelnika had been a real nightmare.

Well, up until the Tower. But anyway, he's so used to the gross factor he doesn't even flinch.]

That was cool!

[But he is honestly impressed. And maybe even showing his age a bit. Even in Tower residents that kind of thing was rare.]

Yeah, it kind of is. Though it's not for fun.

[He looks up at Reno, running a hand through his hair.]

We're fighting off an alien invasion, not on spring break.

Huh. So turning into birds helps with that?

[That kind of hurt his head but hey, there's worlds with some really weird stuff in them, like absolutely no magical abilties at all. That was weird.

Too bad the only real alien they've experienced is Jenova.

The notebook is completely forgotten for the moment.]

What world you from?

It's not just birds, though. And it's... Earth. Why?

[He doesn't know what else to call it.]

I'm not really surprised. [He shrugs.] Earth seems to be a pretty big center where people come from. Must have had a long history to split off in so many universes.

It's not much of a name, I guess. It's made of earth - dirt. Or if you want to be poetic and elemental, rocks and trees and animals and stuff could be considered associated with earth. The planet itself is kind of old, I guess? I'm pretty sure it's not even close to being one of the oldest in the universe, though.

[... He was a dinosaur geek as a kid, shut up. It's a Thing.]

I think a lot of species call their home world something kind of boring, though. "The whatever homeworld". "Planet". Not a lot of creativity when they name their homes.

Pff, mine's got two names. We don't have much of a Space Program, so we usually don't bother callin' it anything.

[Yeah, the Space Program was kind of useless, but it made a great destructive rocket.]

Not much need to.

We've only managed to get to our moon. Species on other planets though...

Massive spacecraft? Intergalactic warp jumps? Battles of Ultimate Destruction?

[Okay, those TV shows were all hokey but he couldn't help but watch one once in a while during his down time.]

Sounds like fun.

Something like that, but considering there's only six of us with the occasional ally trying to prevent mind-controlling slugs from taking over the planet, it's usually our enemies with the spacecraft and the warp jumps and stuff.

Tch, wouldn't be fun if you weren't undermanned and outgunned.

[Speaking from experience, of course.]

How's life in the Tower suiting you?

It's not... bad, I guess. Kind of hard to find prey that won't suddenly grow weird claws or super sharp teeth.

Haven't been here long, have ya?

[Just, the trolliest grin ever.]

Not really, no.

Well, I ain't gonna spoil it for ya. Enjoy the quiet while you can, feels like this place is gonna become a hotbed.

I've seen some of that already. I'm kind of used to constant insanity though. We usually pull at least one or two missions per month, and sometimes they're multi-day missions.

[At least here there seems to be less need for him to be stealthy. For now, at least.]

Yeah. Bein' here's got its limits, though.

... So I've heard.

[He stands, stretching a bit.]

So what were you working on, anyway?

Huh, working on?

[The notebook, Reno.]

Ah, yeah, just some ideas. Gettin' stuff organized. Not too interesting, really.

Ah. I should find a notebook. Not for when I'm a bird, though. Kind of hard to draw with talons.

Your short-hand doesn't make sense to me, but I guess it does to you. You look like the kind of guy who keeps secrets.

[Or tries to.]

[Perceptive kid. Reno'll have to watch himself around this one.]

I guess. This's standard shorthand back home.

[Okay, so maybe it is for Reno.]

Easier than a big essay.