Don't Play with Fire (Turks FF7)

1) The Offer

I mentally groan and contemplate sticking a fork in the dang toaster. Why must this always happen to me? Annoyed, I leave my breakfast stuck in the worthless appliance and head for the bathroom to shower. It's too early for this crap. I scrub shampoo in, rinse, and hurry out. I don't have time to do anything else. At that moment, my phone starts ringing.
"What's up?" I grin, knowing that number by heart.

"Hey! You're not at work yet?"

"Reno, you know I have second morning shift."

"And when's that start?"

"Nine, like I've said everyday for the past five months," I roll my eyes, drying my hair quickly. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I need a ride home at like six."

"Sure thing," I nod. "I heard that that pizza place has a sale today."

"We're goin', yo! I love that place!"

"I know," I laugh. "Gotta go, jerk face. See you later."

"Wait, you can pick me up th..." I hang up and set the device back down. Don't look at me like that, he'd never stop talking if I didn't. That's Reno, easy going, lazy, but dear Shiva does he secretly take his job seriously. Sure, he's strict about vacation and he can get really mature when it comes to big jobs, but we have to grow up eventually, right? You know it's true. We can't be slum rats going on raids and fighting the people chasing us forever. As much as I miss stealing pickles and jerky for Reno, it had to end. All the silliness ended when I was expelled, banned, however you want to put it.

"I hate you," I mutter to my toaster before hurrying out the door. Walking isn't a big deal in Sector Seven. You're just expected to do it. Midgar, once a promise to those with dreams, had turned into an empire in which we are all ruled by those who don't care about the planet or the people themselves. They just want money, and they can have that now, they've manipulated the people into what they wanted and the world is practically ruled by them now.

~|~|~|~|~

"You ready?" One of the cameramen asks. Kelsey, the other reporter, is almost to the point where she turns it over to me.

"Yeah," I nod, firey red hair pulled behind my head in a ponytail. Trust me, I get the 'Do you use hair dye?' question a lot. And before you ask, no, I don't.

"You're on in three, two..." A fake smile grows across my face and I hold my mic up while trying not to look like I absolutely hate the boring part of this job. The man on my right glares at his shoes, hands jammed in his pockets, and dirt smudged all over. You can do this. Just keep your cool.

"Good morning, Midgar. You've all heard of the tragedy that happened nine years ago when thirteen year old Anna McGee burned down her parent's home before going a shooting spree and killing dozens of people. Today, we have the father of one of the victims. John?"

"Yeah, so I was just walkin' down the street with my little daughter and I saw this girl abd was wonderin' why she was running with a gun. So I stopped her to ask her what was wrong and she just pressed the barrel of her rifle to my baby's head and fired before runnin'!" He sniffs and angrily wipes one of his eyes. "I swear, if they ever catch that kid, I'll kill her with my own two hands."

"Yeah," I nod, trying to be sympathetic. "Thank you." He nods back and walks away. "Today is also the anniversary of the..." A huge explosion suddenly shakes the ground, fire lapping up behind me about half a mile away. We all look at each other quickly in confusion, only to realize that I'm still on camera. "Let's go!" Thank goodness what ever that was just blew up. I don't think I could've stood there any longer. I'm an event reporter for a reason! The camera men cut the video and we're all running/jogging to the scene.