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28 August 2006 @ 12:10 am
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code_red_turk on August 28th, 2006 09:10 pm (UTC)
Re: Reno profile part 1!
-Brief Background:

Reno grew up basically on his own. His father worked on a cargo ship, and only came home about once a month for no longer than a week. His mother, even when he was young, was slowly developing Dementia, and would have lucid days and scattered days, where he would find himself unwillingly taking his sister down to the arcade or some other place until his mother got over her fits.

When Reno was 12, his father died in a shipwreck. Angry at his father, the fear that he would one day become like his mother, and the resentment over having to take care of his sister, Reno fell in with the wrong crowd. They smoked, drank, did drugs, vandalized, stole... just about anything and everything they could think of. The deeper he fell into the group, the less he saw his sister, leaving her at home more and more.

At 17, he was caught trying to hold up a convenience store. Considered old enough to be tried as an adult, they threw him into a new program Shinra was considering at the time. Those having committed minors crimes, such as theft and vandalism, where given the choice of jail or the army. Having heard hellish stories about jail, Reno chose the army.

It is still unclear to him as to why Tseng approached him to join the Turks, but Reno will always be grateful to the man he considers a surrogate father. The job shoved him further into reality, helped to make him further jaded. But he met Rude, the only other man he trusts besides Tseng, and managed to keep his mother where she is.

Reno lost his sister and mother in Midgar when Meteor descened. He considers the Turks his surrogate family and really has for years. Now, he still works for Shinra and likely always will.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

-Skills: Anything related to being a Turk. Reno can get in and out of places without anyone knowing he was there, ferret information out of a reluctant unfortunate, or kill without blinking an eye. It's not recommended, however, he do anything requiring diplomacy. That's left to Rude.
-Occupation: Senior Turk of Team 1
-Weapon(s): Twin Beretta - in shoulder holsters, Electric nightstick
-Fighting style [if any]: Reno fights to hurt and doesn't hold to any one style. He'll combine whatever he thinks necessary and not hesitate even the slightest.
code_red_turk on August 28th, 2006 09:10 pm (UTC)
Re: Reno profile part 1!

Third person writing sample:

(OOC: I cheated. I'd already written this. ^^; But it's for Reno! Er, and my Reno seems a little off but I base him off the game, not Advent Children. Because Advent Children made him look so dory. XD)

A bullet split the air. The reverberation disturbed the soundless atmoshere of a back alley in the worst part of Midgar. The air was chilled, almost chrystalline, but snow had yet to fall. Taking a breath was painful when the cold hit the lungs and clung, spreading like a disease. But it felt a hell of a lot better than breathing in the stench of garbage through his nostrils.

Footfalls -- frantic and disjointed -- hit the pavement and scattered, first left and then right. One of them stumbled into a frozen puddle and jerked upward with a pitiful mewling sound, covering the cement with shards of ice. They were quick; funny what adrenaline did for you when you were running for your life. Still, they were little more than babies. Killing babies was like pissing, drinking coffee, and smoking a cigarette all at once.

Crushing the ice beneath the soles of his scuffed boots, Reno paused, looked up, and wished he hadn't. There was nothing above but darkness. The slums resided in the lowest part of the city, under a confining plate that shut out all hope of natural light. He was damn glad he didn't live here anymore; but the assignments in this area were numerous and he hated being reminded of his origins.

Ejecting the shells from the Weapons Development department's latest creation, he dropped two more in the barrels and aimed. To his left was the slightest hint of movement not creative enough to be a rat and too large to be a cat. Without hesitation, he turned and unloaded both barrels, taking a step forward without looking to make certain he'd hit where he aimed. The telltale thud of bodies hitting the pavement was enough.

Dropping to one knee suddenly, he pressed gloved fingers to the ground and came away with blood. He'd wounded one earlier, and the stained pavement was difficult to see even in the light of the street lamps. The copper scent that clung to a man's nostrils and followed him even into sleep was lost amid the miasma of trash, dead animals, and human waste. He'd never appreciated the sense of resignation these people felt, as if the inability to rise above the world they were born into meant they had to give in and contribute to it.

'These people', as if he'd never been here himself.

He rose, sharp eyes scanning the darkness, cutting into places were the shadows gathered the thickest. By his estimation, there were at least three left. Unless the one he'd wounded collapsed from loss of blood. Either way it was nothing to him, so long as they all turned up dead. And wasn't it handy, that working for Shinra meant never having to dispose of the bodies?