By Pip Malloy
Money hungry druggy.
They call me these all these names. Worse if they know them. They say Im a drunk. They say Im a druggie. They say I abuse people, I murder people, I womanize and use people. They say I dont care about anything but my own skin, they say Im a bastard. They say Im a sell out. They say I gave my soul to the highest bidder and it just turned out he was a devil.
Im a Turk. Thats all I hear now. Youre Reno the Turk. You work for Shinra. You are a Turk.
People are idiots.
Yeah, I am a Turk. But thats not it. Theres a name to go with the damn title, and everyone seems to forget it.
They call me a drunk and a druggy. But no one has ever asked me why I drink, why I do the drugs. Everyone learns in school that drugs and alcohol are bad, that theyll kill your brain and take away your problems without solving them, then return them to you with more.
What the hell do a bunch of health teachers and scientists know?
Drugs and alcohol dont let me escape. They highten the pain, make it unbearable. They dont dull the razor, they cover it in poison. They say you never have a real reason to turn to drugs and alcohol. No?
I beg to differ.
Everyones got a sob story now. Oh, I lost my mom in a fire and had to raise my sisters and brothers. Oh, were so poor I had to give up my baby. Poor me, I dont get to eat everyday. Woe is me, No one cares about me.
Those are the whimps. They were dead as soon as they were born. There are others, like myself, who know the ropes. We know what lifes about, and we know how to play the game. We dont walk a razors edge. We fucking dance on it.
You had to raise your sisters and brothers? Big deal. You knew who your parents were. You got family, friends, a roof over your pampered head and food in your stomach. You had to give your baby up? Its called survival, sister. It hurts, yeah, big deal. Live is pain, if you stop feeling it, youre dead. You dont eat every day? I dont eat every week. No one cares about you?
They call me a bastard. I cant say if thats true or not. I dont know who the hell my parents are, and frankly, I dont give a shit. They say Im a womanizer. Heh. Sorry, shweetheart, but the women arent complaining, so why should I stop?
A murderer. Its a job. I kill people for a living. I get paid for it. If I called myself an assassin, people would admire me, because the title is so damn romantic. Yeah? In truth, killing people is the nicest thing I do on my job.
Money-hungry? Hell yeah! Cmon people. Whoever said money is the root of all evil never went hungry. Money is a way to survive. And I havent met anyone yet who really wanted to die.
People lie to theirselves all the time. Oh, yeah, I want to die, kill me. No? Ill kill myself.
You dont want to kill yourself. You people havent been dead, you dont know what its like. I havent been dead either, but then again, I dont want to die. Ive yet to meet a person who would look at me dead in the eye, down the barrel of my EMR, and tell me, yeah, kill me you fucker. When I do, Ill oblige.
I dont bluff. Ever.
Why bother? You dont make good on one threat and nobody knows if youre going to follow through on the next. I dont care who you are or what you do, or whether youre an angel or a devil, Ill send you all to the afterlife, if there is one. They called me a devil in the slums. But hey, the Devil was an angel who fell, right?
Whats that say about heaven?
They say Im souless. Yeah, maybe I am. Maybe I sold my soul to the highest bidder. And maybe I was never born with one. Or maybe, just maybe, Im just another guy who had the innocence torn from their soul, the happiness ripped from their mind, and the love stolen from their heart. Heh. Or maybe I really wasnt born with a soul.
What good are they anyway?
They call me a bastard, a jerk, a womanizer, a souless druggie.
They can call me whatever the hell they want.
I call me Reno, and in the end, thats all that matters.
Cause Im the one whos breathing.
Final Fantasy 7 Fanfic