((OOC: *cough* For Reno, Rude, Tseng and New Turks. Who, if they don't have players, will not be autoed. Angela (Samantha) has gone AWOL and as of thus, will be missing the meeting unless she pops in at some time.))A blonde girl with big blue eyes, looking innocent and pristine, had obviously never killed anyone, a tall women who despite her long grey-brown hair emitted a strong aura of masculinity, her hands gloved, her stance reminding Veld of Rude, a man with the strangest hair Veld had ever seen--braided in rows on one side, fluffy and free on the other. A tall and bearded man, a snarly expression on his face, a boy who looked like Reno without the mullet and... someone was missing. The princess-like girl with the snotty expression. She must have gone out for lunch even though she wasn't supposed to. Veld mentally head-desked. Did he have to choke a bitch after all?What a crew.Ugh. He'd just quoted Rufus. The lack of hot coffee was going to his head.Tseng shifted behind him."Well," said Veld, knotting his hands and leaning forward somewhat, "What have you to say?"Uneasy silence. Much eye shifting and collar pulling.Some days, Veld liked his job. This was one of them. Sadistic bastard.
(OOC: Yeah, it's fine. XD)
The first day had already gotten off to a fantastic start. Honestly, she should really have stayed and waited in the lobby -- but the delay had been troubling and she'd thought, perhaps, that she'd gotten the timing or the venue wrong.And had gone to check. And one thing had led to another, including getting trapped in the lift with General Heidegger. Or rather, trapped in the lift by General Heidegger, who had considerately blocked the doors with his considerable bulk, and spent a lot of time leering and asking her why she'd joined the Turks and not the army.Pointing out that she wasn't cleared to go to the upper floors hadn't worked either. Heidegger had broken out into that awful laugh of his (yet another reason why the Turks were infinitely preferably to the Army), appeared to think about it for a moment, and then pointed out the fact that they were way past the third floor, and she'd just have to ride all the way up the elevator with him and all the way down again, wouldn't she? And wasn't she just a lucky thing?"With all due respect, sir--""Gyahahahhaa. We seem to be near my office. Why don't you drop by for a chat?""Certainly, sir."And when they'd stepped out of the lift, she'd promptly turned and bolted back in seconds before the lift doors slammed shut.And taken the lift all the way down again.And then Tseng's summons had come. Which meant taking the elevator all the way up. Again. And risk running into Heidegger.She'd taken the stairs instead.Rosalind stood at attention, staring off into the middle distance just like they'd been trained do during a dressing down in the good old Academy days. "...No excuse, sir."
Still leaning casually against the wall, Reno eyed the new recruits, noting that there were only five when there should've been six. He wondered what happened to other one. Probably lost.Gods, talk about disorganization. "Organization" was no doubt a funny word to associate with someone like Reno, but when it came to his actual work, he could be as organized as Tseng. Staying alive was all about coordination, after all, and if they couldn't even keep track of the recruits when they were all in the same damn building, he didn't even want to think about how things would go in the field.No wonder Veld was looking exasperated. Well, sort of--only someone who knew the man could really tell.One of the women shifted slightly, appearing nervous under the intense gaze of their new boss. Not that he blamed her. He'd been subjected to that look himself, and even he had to admit that it unnerved him the first few times. It still did, but he'd learned to cover it up with his usual slouch and a smirk.The girl better learn, too. She wasn't going to get very far if she couldn't hide her emotions. Being in the Turks was like being in a play, except you didn't get fired if you screwed up, you got fired at.Moving onto the others, Reno realized that the only one he truly recognized was the guy he'd arrested awhile back for jacking a motorcycle. The kid kinda reminded Reno of himself..."I got lost, sir," said a female voice.Reno glanced back at the woman. "Won't be your first time," he said. "Just memorize all the exits first for when the building blows up or something."Crushing out his cigarette, he wondered briefly what it was they all thought they were getting into. They were no doubt anticipating adventure, danger, and, of course, the money, but he doubted they'd thought of the office politics which occurred just as frequently as the bullets were fired.He certainly hadn't the day he'd been recruited.
When Rude had arrived, he was surprised to see that he was running later than Reno. And not only was Reno there, but the new recruits had arrived as well. This was definitely not how he planned to start his morning. As he listened to the idle banter of the recruits and his co-workers, he glanced over their faces.No one seemed to stand out. They ran the gamut of what (Rude at least thought) qualified as Turk material. A younger woman with blonde hair looked too childlike and chaste to be a Turk. Those nervous eyes had probably never seen a drop of blood. The taller woman next to her carried herself with a bit more pride but was nervous as well. She could prove to be strong if she could get a better handle on her emotions. He understood a bit. Veld was intimidating. And this was their first exposure not only to Shin-Ra but to its higher-ups as well. Rude hoped that Veld had ingested enough coffee, or this could very well turn out to be an ugly meeting.There were three other men in the room; one with an exotic hairstyle, one with a sinister look on his face and another who slightly resembled Reno. He gave them less attention because they seemed more confident and less nervous than the women, at least for the moment.Overall, Rude was unimpressed. No one stood out. None of them had commanding personalities like Reno, no guile and intelligence like Veld, no silent cunning like Tseng, no strength like himself.But he liked being proven wrong. He hoped that later on, perhaps on a mission, that these candidates would do something impressive.As was his custom, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Veld to speak. God, he hoped Veld had had coffee.
As it were--Veld had had coffee, but not anywhere near enough. And it had been cold. As he understood, though, the fashionable ladies in Junon would pay more for a cup of cold coffee then hot, and tried to pacify himself on that fact--failing, miserably. The ladies of Junon were insane, he had decided, desecrating the perfection that was coffee. Veld's head was throbbing, he realized. He took another sip of the bitter--always black, no sugar, no cream, for the love of god no fancy flavoured things-- icy liquid, and eyed the new Turks again.Oh god.He decided to start on Rosalind, first."No excuse, Rosalind? Hmph. You didn't get lost, did you..?" He shuffled about through the papers on his desk, again. "Ah... fine... Try to do better next time." He took another sip of coffee. The pounding in his head did nothing--at least, it didn't throb harder.Reno had a smirk on his face. "... Rafe?"
[OOC: Look, spam!]What a crew indeed. Tseng doubtless hadn’t inspired any sort of confidence with his failing to show up as their escort, being too preoccupied with a certain seething irritation, but he was pleased to see they’d found their way through the labyrinth without only one apparent casualty. He couldn’t have planned a test of their mettle on the first day better. Punctuality was not one of the reasons these recruits had been picked. Perseverance, adaptability, and level headed thinking when faced with an unexpected situation were. Veld, of course, would give them hell for it anyway, because that was Veld’s job. It wouldn’t do to give the rookies the impression that anyone wanted them here, or they might figure out just how desperate the Turks really were for manpower, and start asking for pay raises. Tseng was already having enough trouble making up excuses to deny Reno’s requests. Although Reno often enough shot himself in the foot with his continual insubordination, so that every raise he was grudgingly bestowed managed to get docked for infractions and everything evened out in the long run.Having been the one actively recruiting half of the n00bz, Tseng was more familiar with most of them even if it was only by virtue of having meticulously inspected their files. Cyr, he noted, was looking a little out of her depth, no doubt more used to the rough and tumble rowdiness of the freelance merc companies than the pressed suit and tie corporate atmosphere that ShinRa wallowed in. He wondered briefly if Durman would be as free with his gaze if he knew her formidable background. Or perhaps that was why he was staring in the first place. A keen eye was what the man had prided himself on in his detective work, and the keenest would have easily picked out Cyr and Rafe as being the more unusual of this lot. One didn’t see many mercs operating within Midgar given the stiff competition they ran against with SOLDIER and the regulars, and out of those few one saw even fewer women, making Cyr a rarity amongst rarities. And Rafe, of course, screamed Mafioso.Reno’s pet was looking scruffy, as usual. Tseng was still wondering darkly if the older Turk had somehow managed to get himself cloned, just to irritate his superiors with prospects of having two firebrands running around. Angela was as of yet nowhere to be seen. Pity. She’d seemed enthusiastic enough about the offer, perhaps she had reconsidered. Or gotten lost, which was, if one wanted to split hairs, technically Tseng’s fault.The last of the rookies was also the shortest, and the one Tseng had the highest hopes for. Despite Rosalind’s lack of proper field work, as the Turks would have called their personal brand of urban warfare, her academy record was impeccable and he quite pitied anyone who thought that she would prove too innocent or too nervous to carry out her missions. It didn’t take any experience at all to kill a man when one had been handling small arms since childhood. It was all in the mechanical performance of the action. And Rosalind’s skill at that, he was pleased to admit, rivaled some of the military candidates who not only had been academy graduates but had already gone through ShinRa’s formal training. SOLDIER had even been sniffing after her, according to rumor. He’d given her the barest nod earlier, watching her fingers twitch in the fight to not salute at the sight of her new superiors. A good showing for herself in not babbling excuses as the youngest n00bs of any organization were prone to do. And, hopefully to forestall any further reprimands on Veld’s part….He slipped out of the office with the silent grace that made his kin so deadly in the jungles of Wutai, and returned moments later to set a cup of something steaming hot on Veld’s desk before resuming his former place. Cold coffee + Veld’s temper didn’t equate a good start with the children. And if Reno smirked and muttered something about coffee boys, by all the gods of his fathers he was going to partner the man with Rosalind and forget to warn him about her frigid sense of decorum. With any luck, he’d be shot two minutes in.
(OOC: RAFE? Where are you? We need you to go onnn!)
"There was some...miscommunication regarding the meeting place, sir," Rafe replied smoothly. Yes, miscommunication in the form of no communication at all, but then, he'd learned early on that correcting his superiors was a fruitless task. Fatal too, in most cases. "It won't happen again."As the inspection continued, Rafe allowed his gaze to trail across the rest of the men before him. Hm. If this was all that the Turks consisted of, then Shinra was in more desperate need of help than the grapevine had let on. Two veterans, Tseng, and the older man who had just addressed him. No wonder AVALANCHE was having a field day.His gaze swiveled from the cool, professional Wutaian to his older, scarred superior, both dressed in perfectly pressed, identical dark suits, trademarks of the company's corporate culture. No surprise there. And the silent, bald-headed Turk behind them might as well have been a statue for the amount of expression he exhibited on his face, stony and impassive as the tower itself. Rafe nods to himself, content. So long as they didn't expect him to deal with copious amounts of paperwork (one of the drawbacks of working for Shinra he had been warned about), he was sure relations with the three would proceed just fine.He was not so sure, however, about the cocky redhead leaning in the back, smoking a cigarette and looking for all the world as if he'd just walked out of a bar fight. Shock of hair, one flashy earring...the man's dress and attitude screamed slum gang, most likely the lower sectors, though he'd heard tell of similar styles around Wall Market as well. But what immediately caught his eye were the tattoos, twin jagged red marks on either side of the other's face, almost certainly self-inflicted by the way the left curved just a little more sharply than the right. Rafe's eyes narrow at the sight. He'd heard tell of a man who looked just like that, a man with quite a colorful history around Wall Market and the surrounding areas, whose up-and-coming career in drug trafficking met an unfortunate derailment after certain...disagreements...with the Don.This one, he had better keep an eye on.
Veld inwardly smiled at Tseng's almost-domestic gesture. Tseng was helpful beyond being a Turk, and he had also remembered no cream this time. Veld eyed them over as he paused to take a long sip of the mercifully hot liquid and shuffled the papers on his desk. Ah, Rafe's paper. Hmm. Fascinating. Should be fine material if he didn't cling to his roots too much.Well.Veld stood up, and Tseng cleared his throat."It would appear that... all is in order."They looked at each other. Was that all? Wasn't he going to test them? Veld, however, knew better; words were nothing when you're a fighter--you can talk like you're some big bad fighter and you actually can't fight worth shit and if that were the case they'd be dead soon enough and it didn't matter. It was unfortunate. It was regretable. But anyone who can lie their way into a situation would deserve their fate.He didn't have the energy, he realized, to do anything further anyway."You're free to go. Tseng will show you your apartments. Your first assignment..." He turned to the window and watched the hellacopters chopping by. "Will be given to you soon." To Tseng, he muttered, "Show them their new homes and come right back. I have things for you to do..." Tseng nodded, and ambled out, new Turks slowly plodding after.///Mission 0.1 Untitled end.(And... while it may have seemed pointless, I've reaped enough from this to know what to do differently when we actually /get started/. Whee.)