raspberryturk | Edge, Tuesday Afternoon

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Edge, Tuesday Afternoon

"Back to work, back to work."

Work for Reno, it should be noted, mostly consisted of him putting his feet on his desk and pretending to be busy. There were reports to be filed. He didn't wanna. That required effort.

Taking jobs that involved him chasing down monsters or beating terrorists to a messy pulp or, dare he say it, the jobs that required making hits? That wasn't work. That was play.

Reno? Reno was working. So hard at work. Staring at paper. Paperwork would be less boring if maybe it came in crossword format. Or word search. Or if it was written out in code that replaced each letter of the alphabet with a different picture of a naked chick. If it did that, maybe it wouldn't be so much work!

Yes, he was totally spending his time hard at work trying to will the phone to ring with his brain. Ugh, work.

[For phonecalls, of course. Reno is, as usual, boooored.]

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"Awesome," Dinah said, pleased. "I'm glad, I know big ones can't be easy to make. But maybe that'll help people out." She grinned and bounced on her bed. "How're the beans doing? Still yellow?" She snickered. "And hey! Would you want an ice cream maker? Do you guys have milk?"

"Sure we have milk!"

Don't ask Reno what in the world they milked to get the milk. It was entirely possible that cows didn't exist on Gaia.

"We got ice, too, when I can keep the freezer runnin'. And the beans are fiiiine. I been takin' 'em down to the kids below. I got a few regulars down on the street. Kinda got half a mind to just invite 'em to move in, but that wouldn't be safe for 'em, either."

"Then I'll send you the fixings," Dinah decided, since hey, kids who liked superballs would probably like ice cream as well as Reno. "They could make enchiladas? Maybe some tortillas or something." Which was Dinah's idea of how you ate beans, as part of the spiciest Mexican food you could make. "Why wouldn't it be safe? Structurally, or something else, and why are you there then?" she asked, worried.

"Oh, no, the building is fine, Rookie. That ain't it." Reno sighed, shifting his weight a little and looking at the ceiling. "People get the idea that a Turk is gettin' soft on the neighbourhood kids, though, they're gonna do what it takes to get to the Turk."

"Oh." Dinah processed that, then said, "Oh." Not safe for the kids. Right. "Gotcha." A moment of silence, then a bit more soberly, "Anyone thinking you're a good target lately? I really hope not."

"Nobody we ain't been able to deal with," Reno replied dismissively, snorting a bit somewhere in that statement. "It ain't nothin' new. Someone gets wind of the guys in suits who used to work for ShinRa, tries somethin' dumb, an' a few hours later we're handin' 'em off gift-wrapped to the WRO so they can figure out what to do with 'em without any real legal system set up."

A pause.

"Shit, do we ever need some kinda prison system."

"The WRO, they're the ones taking care of people mostly, right?" Dinah checked, trying to remember. She was quiet a minute, thinking about prisons. "They're always a pain. Keep people out, keep people in..." She sighed, remembering Al Hawke. "Too bad you can't put an ankle bracelet and a tracker on them. I'm guessing that wouldn't be enough."

"It ain't never enough. But right now, we are the law. Us and the WRO. World Regenesis Organization. They're rebuildin'. Kinda got the beginnings of an army happenin' there, but their progress is slow. They're hirin' kids offa the streets, just so long as they're old enough to hold a gun. That ain't an army. That's a buncha people who threw away their pride because they were hungry."

Reno could relate. But at least he found something to be proud of in the Turks when he'd done it.

Dinah sighed, frowning and pacing. "You gotta get some due process, too. If only to keep track of them, Reno. I mean, I don't know if the WRO is letting them go or... doing other stuff. But secrets are weapons to everybody else." She got that much. She paced a little farther, and then asked, "Is there anyone that almost everyone trusts to be fair? Or any code, or authority, or... I don't know. Even religion, that they'd all be good with? If not making the rules, then arbitrating them?"

"People trust Cloud an' Tifa an' them," Reno said, sighing and shaking his head. "Because they all stabbed the big bad more'n once until he stopped movin'. Thing is, they ain't exactly the best role models, either. I wouldn't let 'em dole out justice at their say so, no matter how thankful I am that they saved the world."

A beat.

"Twice."

Shut up.

"Before they got their world savin' schtick on, they were runnin' around, detonating bombs in the mako reactors around Midgar. They ain't heroes any more'n I am."

"Yeah, that's... going to blow, until someone sane and smart without an axe to grind steps up," Dinah said, guessing that the last one would be the hardest to find. "And you wouldn't want to bring in anyone from outside. Nobody would trust them." She shook her head, thinking. "And elections could get rigged, especially with everyone all upset and no one paying attention, and that might not get the best person making rules either." She frowned. "Maybe Arthur has some ideas? This is his thing, kinda."

"Don't get me wrong, I got all the respect in the world for Arthur. Good buddy of mine an' everything. But I think askin' a guy who grew up with a life of privilege what the best way to build a government on the outskirts of the ruins of what used to be called home is... Might be a little much to dump on the guy's shoulders. He's still rollin' his eyes at me for blowin' up the overpass, yo."

... In all fairness, the overpass kinda had to go. Even if it was really really really important.

"Yeah, point." Dinah winced, thinking. "Do you want books, or are you all booked out? Especially for something like this, I just..." She sighed. "Wish I could help." She thought of Jim Gordon in New Gotham, and shook her head. "You need one person who's not getting anything out of it, and nobody especially hates, who'll make the tough calls. But heck if I know where you could find them." She paused. "No, you need a system first, maybe?"

"We need a system first," Reno agreed. "And if I gotta do any more readin', I'm gonna stab myself in the eyes with a fork."

That came out sounding a lot more tired than he had intended it to.

"The people ain't gonna listen to someone like me if I come bearin' ideas, anyhow. That's for Reeve and his WRO to figure out. The only one around here with any vague idea about how to govern people is Rufus Shinra. And most people figure Rufus is dead. Almost a shame he ain't, really."

"...wait. I thought he was the bad guy. And I thought he was dead?" Dinah said, voice going up in a question. "Or is this a different Shinra?" There could be more than one. She felt like she needed to make a flow chart.

Reno siiiighed.

"It's complicated. There was President Shinra, Rufus' old man, who owned the whole damn world. He's the guy who's still in charge while your Zack is runnin' around Midgar, zoto. While later, Shinra bumps off," Reno was not going to specify that he was murdered, no, "and his kid takes the wheel. That's Rufus. Nastiest son of a bitch who ever got to take control of the planet, but damn if he ain't effective at what he does. He ain't dead, no, but he's layin' low. Best he stays that way, too."

"Ohhhhh. Okay. Right." Dinah paused, then frowned. "... there really isn't anyone else who knows how to do that job there, is there?" she realized. "Not after all the fighting and stuff. And most of them would be like your old President." This. Was Bad. "Well, suck."

"Yeah, suck." Reno sighed again. For good measure. Sighing was very expressive that way. "The guy in charge of the WRO, at least, I mean... He came from ShinRa. But he was on AVALANCHE's side. He's kinda the best of either world. An' to top it off, he was in charge of the department of urban development when he was workin' with the company. So even if he ain't a politician really, at least he knows how to rebuild. That's better'n nothin'."

"Something, at least, yeah." She frowned. "Too bad you can't build legal systems like buildings. I mean. I guess you can, metaphorically, but I've got no idea what you use for materials." Dinah made a face. "I'll send you Crime & Punishment eps, though. As consolation. And another steak."

"Steeeeeeeaaaaaaaak."

It was a shame that a 'grabby hands' gesture didn't carry so well over the phone. Alas.

Reno was so, so totally making one, though.

Dinah snickered, and said, "Steeeeeak. And potatoes! And maybe some frozen curly fries, for your microwave." She grinned, temporarily pushing worries about world-rebuilding aside. "And a really great burger at Luke's when you're visiting, too."

"Oh, gods, no more potatoes, please," Reno laughed, practically pleading. "The only thing they can actually get to last all the way into Edge is freakin' potatoes. On days where there ain't much to pick in the garden I got goin', it's potatoes. I feel Irish, or some junk."

He'd actually learned enough about Earth to know that potatoes and redheads were kinda Irish or something. See, he totally deserved a cookie for that one.

"But a burger? That, I'd be all over, yo."

"You've got it," Dinah promised. "And another care package before the end of the month. Zoto." And giggling over the line.

Reno made another snerk sound, but totally let it be. There were some people who should never zoto.

As in, pretty much everyone but him.

"I appreciate that, Rookie. You think of some way I can pay you back over homecoming weekend, let me know, okay?"

"Sure thing!" Although Dinah had no idea what that'd be. Still.... "Helicopter ride? If we can find one nearby?"

In a totally legal way, of course.

Edge, Tuesday Afternoon

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