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 Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 9:52 pm
Commissioner's Office
Taking after the old Shin-Ra Corporation's style of hierarchy, the commissioner's office is located on the top floor, though designed in far safer and more appealing a manner. This is the main office of operation, where the head of the W.R.O. works to keep the organization intact and serviceable.
The current Commissioner is Reeve Tuesti.
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Posted: Mon Feb 16, 2009 10:14 am
It had become daily routine, just another twitch in the clock, a senseless circle, no purpose but to run the same route unto an end which was really a lie breathed to the sensible, those who ‘knew’ what lay beyond their temporal existences. No shift in gears, no swiftest revolution—what had come of their actions was little less than a reflection of what had past, and in such humanity found its bane: their very existence proven fatal. What silly thoughts were these, of hope and insight into present situations, in hopes of altering a destiny none clearly knew as well as they knew their own minds. The enlightened were few in this age—and of those he knew, had heard of, they were easily hushed and pressed away. And he could not help but muse at their silence, their informal dissidence to the way things were run, the path upon which the planet spun. Naught had changed. And once more, he wondered at their failure—upon greater a scale than even perhaps their own could imagine, with what horrors had accosted their kind, yet again.
So it was that the still, if not by title, leader of the Turks leaned softly over keyboard, heels of hands leaned onto as he stood, gazing as numbers tallied and information checked and rechecked itself in hopes of an elimination of many, a pinpointing of one fainted strand of hair that might be the hopes of a lead. But insofar, there had been naught. Many places had been eliminated, including most of this very continent. Kalm, Fort Condor, the Temple of the Ancients—or what had once been the Temple of the Ancients, and most of Midgar had been examined. Connections in Rocket Town, a party sent out to both the Forgotten Capital and Northern Crater, the area around the Icicle Inn for the most part had all been cleared. The Gold Saucer eliminated, Gongaga not suspect, and Nibelheim one of the first places checked out. Several areas still remained, but the facts still stood. Everywhere they had expected someone to take the missing Turks had been crossed out already and proven either clean or dubious—and even the dubious had been staked out and turned nigh on upside-down.
Yet things were moving in more than just these ways. For during the time of countless missions given out to his Turks, the death knell for the once dominant ShinRa Corporation had sounded and brought its sudden end all too swiftly. Many things were salvaged from its still intact frame, including most of the supplies and gargantuan databanks that now had been fitted with the appropriately named W.R.O. in which he stood now. Employees were transferred, but by the first day the exchange had begun he had known that many would lose not only their jobs but their sole source of income, their very ability to live comfortably—the entire world to be severely wounded by this transfer from one way of life long established to something new, untested, questionable and flimsy. It was an effort, and one very plausibly destined to fail—but by the first month Rude had arrived with a blank envelope in hand—and it was by its contents, its sender unknown, that Tseng knew only such a thing as this could have torn the determined man away from his own combing over of the Junon area in search of his partner.
They had received the first of such unnamed payments—containing inexplicably large sums of gil—in much the same manner, Rude never risking sending them to the W.R.O. in any other manner than by delivering each unmarked envelope in person. All that was said of such were the renowned words, “It’s from ‘someone with a large debt to Planet.’” Certainly some of them were able to determine the ‘mystery identity’ of their anonymous benefactor, but Tseng said nothing of his thoughts. What did they matter, regardless their probable truth? There was a new, if similar future established for his Turks, and that had been the basis of this transformation, this abandonment of old ties and establishment of new ones. Softly he shifted his silvered eyes downwards away from the screen, gaze narrow but not unkind, settling momentarily on something he would not name even in the depths of his mind.
Things were progressing, aside from the clear departure of the unstable Arina and senior Turk member Reno. He dared heave a heavy if not laden sigh, and turned eyes back onto the screen that had come to one conclusion that he swept over with collected diligence. Perhaps more than ever in the past couple years, he had returned to something of his former self, but in more amiable a manner than before—for once, comfortable with himself, in his very skin, yet again. And then, hand found mouse and swiftly closed out the file, set another to run, and returned with rolled fingers and heel of hand onto desk. For once, he was not wearing a tie, and his hair, though tied back neatly, fell upon a shirt rather than the languidly discarded jacket set upon the back of his chair—which he continued to ignore for that matter. He felt he’d sat enough these past couple of months—and for most of his life—to want to sit for very long now.
Reno would have been proud of him, he liked to think. Though therein lay the very issue itself. As his phone denoted a faint musical tone, he comfortably mused over the fact that there was still nothing received from the outsources as well as any in-city connections they’d had, established, and used to their full extent. Lifting the phone to his ear, he flipped it open and answered with a certain level of ease unusual to him in earlier times. “Tseng. Go ahead Rude,” he allowed, turning away from the screen to lean lightly against the desk—just one in a room he had improvised upon and made into a complex, almost messy secondary control room out of. He could work from the main control room, but there was a certain peace about working here without others hovering about and bickering, stumbling over what to do and how to do it best. He spent enough time instructing them as it was, and the time spent here he put to uses far more important on a personal level to him. Which, being the basis of this organization’s creation, was thereby unquestionable in his eyes. Those that had concerns to his split of mind would be reassured and placated in one way or another.
“I still haven’t found him,” came the simple reply.
“So no leads either,” Tseng clarified—then paused at the sound of colliding bodies and a shouted apology. A silent blink and gentle, almost unnoticeable furrowing of the brows at that. The voice sounded familiar—but no names or faces came to mind. A light bit of humor, though he wasn’t sure if it’d be lost on the man or not. “Hope you weren’t mugged atop all this, Rude.” A half turn towards the screen he’d appropriated then, a few keystrokes and several constantly renewed documents were pulled up. “We’re switching tactics, and unless you want to remain in Junon another month, I’m going to see if I can get you out of there sometime soon. From what we’ve been able to compile and cross-examine, we were correct about someone tapping into the surveillance and docking records in Junon Harbor at the very least. Which means that wherever Reno and Arina are, they’re not on this continent. We’ve examined various sites thoroughly, and you know that, but the parties we have stationed at each location have given us nothing so far.” A quick study of the information and then it was closed out with another keystroke.
Rude had said nothing insofar and Tseng straightened, turning once more away from the screen to gaze over the room for another familiar face. “You still there, Rude?” Perhaps he’d been distracted by the small collision. It had not seemed like such a big deal, however. But he was patient—and for once, he could say he had time.
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Posted: Mon Feb 16, 2009 11:34 am
It was curious, but he had been tempted to smile upon the simple statement presented him by Rude as a response. “You’ll get yourself a new one,” Tseng easily quipped, noting that it was up to the bald man what he did regardless what offers Tseng gave him. And that was exactly what he was currently mulling over. The fact was that there were very few leads upon which the Turks could go, and try as he might, whoever had hacked into the databanks they had counted upon so desperately for any connection to just where Arina and Reno had been taken, their work far excelled his own, and seemed still out of the reach of Reeve’s—which was not merely impressive, but worrisome as well. However, it allowed Tseng to draw one conclusion.
Whomever had abducted his two Turks was working with more than one person. With more, even, than just a single group of people. The operations completed, the methods used, even the grand amount of data garnered from their ability to stunt the Turks of the deceased ShinRa organization all pointed to the fact that their enemies had a very thorough knowledge not only of their workings, but enough muscle to put them in their place. What concerned Tseng the most about this was that if they had the power, but the Turks were clearly still breathing—then there were other purposes behind what ambiguous ends their opponents had in mind.
Which, Tseng noted, was the only reason he bothered looking for Arina and Reno still. Because anyone taking that much time into keeping them hidden and not rubbing their deaths in the face of the Turks that cared so deeply—unknowingly—for their practical kin, would not let them die in a mere few months’ time. The problem lay in… just what end were they attempting to reach? And within that query, another answer again was presented.
Three months ago, before Tseng had even recognized Arina and Reno as missing, one of his Turks—Louis—had arrived at the old ShinRa HQ ready for dead, dropped off there by a brave Samaritan who expected quite a hefty sum for his delivery of the nearly dead Louis. During his recovery, which lasted about a week, he had informed Tseng of the peculiar opponent which he had fought and been defeated against. And this—they now thought, was the lead by which they would hope to find the others. By the woman had not been sighted, and although Louis’ abandoned vehicle had not aided them in their efforts, Tseng was now almost completely certain that the strange female’s destination had been Junon. For there it was that the cover-up was slipped over their eyes, and they saw it as well as they could not see what it was it hid.
“She looked like Tifa,” came an additional, thoughtful remark on the part of the bald man.
Tseng paused in his thoughts, and swiftly uttered, “Lockheart?” But that was when it clicked. The voice had sounded familiar, and to Rude, the face was noticeably similar to that of a Turk Tseng had seen sent off on a prolonged mission a couple of years ago. It was a field study and examination mission that could take anywhere from several months to a couple of years, he had told her. But that operation was not to be carried out in Junon, he reasoned. She was supposed to be stationed in Edge, not at all far from their very headquarters, back when it had been the ShinRa Corporation to which they’d still held allegiance. But as time passed, word was not heard from her—and then countless incidents began occurring which immediately doused any efforts to perform a search for the missing Turk. In fact—shame on him—he had not followed up on her own silence in any of the time they had had with the establishment of the W.R.O.
But how had she ended up in Junon? If it was her, he reminded himself. “Rude,” he swiftly interjecting, changing topics. “I’m afraid I’ll have to keep you there for just a little bit longer. But right now, I want you to make a positive ID of the Lockheart-lookalike. I’ll forward you the fingerprints and iris scan.” He swiftly pushed aside the information clogging his screen and pulled up the databank’s records, preparing to forward them to Rude. “If you recognized her, and I thought her voice sounded familiar, then maybe you should stop moping and follow your instincts for once. We might’ve just stumbled onto an MIA Turk without even recognizing it. You complete this mission and I’m giving you a go-ahead to return to Edge either with Ms. Lockheart, or not. Either way, you’ll get your wish.”
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Posted: Wed Feb 18, 2009 8:57 am
His phone had not long been discarded before it was back into use. Rude would take care of the mission, with or without contacting him. The result would walk in on him this very afternoon, and until then, he had plenty to keep himself occupied with. This then, was one of his main sources returning to him with what he could only hope would be good news—though the chances seemed slim, even though they were the best he had. Flipping open the phone, he finally took a seat before his overworked computer.
“I hope you have something good for me,” he said before the Turk could even answer, gazing over the Nibelheim files that he had appropriated from top security sections of the old ShinRa databanks in the hopes of completing more thorough a study than countless other teams when they had been sent into those mountains countless times before. Each time seemed inevitably tied in to disaster. It either set up the world for disaster, was the location of such, or they walked in on the results of it to clean up, cover up, and take advantage of it in whatever way they could. However, if such could be counted upon yet again, perhaps the disaster associated with it this time around would provide the necessary clues pertaining to the location of his Turks. As it was, some still thought the entire place should be burnt off the face of the planet for the good of the world.
Yet some good could come out of such a place, surely. It was not sappy or optimistic to think such. But great figures had come from that town. And huge advances in the world had been made, as well as hell on Gaya appropriated by the mistakes all such advances shed as they came into their own. It was the natural cycle of progress. Whatever emotions, pain, and memories were tied into the town, these he had discarded in light of the concerns of this day, this hour. Memories and emotions could be looked back upon, evaluated and analyzed at a later time. The lives of his Turks were fragile, in the end, and could very easily be completely destroyed or nearing that goal at this very moment. Time, waited for no one. And because that was an unchanging truth, he was not going to let mistakes of the past trip him up again. There were things far more important at stake here for him to be dilly-dallying.
“Run me through the report of the towns folk and their reactions, the surrounding area, the deactivated reactor, the town and mansion. Anything out of place or unusual that we can follow and begin working on?”
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Posted: Thu Feb 19, 2009 2:19 pm
The wait was much similar in the building of the W.R.O., seeing as how they had to go up so many flights just to reach the top of the building, where Tseng always seemed to be located. Rude very much wanted a cigarette. His hands were placed calmly in front of himself, gloved fingers laced together. He did not look over at Tifa, he merely stared at the doors and waiting for the familiar ping and for the box to magically open up.
When they finally did, Rude motioned for Tifa to step out first. He then followed, before making his way in front of her again and leading her towards Tseng's office, if that's what it even was. Apparently it was Reeve's, but Rude wasn't going to get technical about it. The halls were as white and quite as usual...
Rude knocked on Tseng's door and stood outside until he heard the command to enter. It was very normal for him to look and act so calm, but the bald Turk was really having a hard time doing off-topic tasks. There was a huge array of guilt and confusion that he continued to feel about Reno's kidnapping and even Mirage's disappearance. The distractions were supposed to do just that; distract. But all they were doing was making him think harder about what he needed to put on momentary hold.
[sorry for crap post. :[]
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Posted: Fri Feb 20, 2009 11:13 am
It took but the first sentence for Tseng to realize that the news he would be presented with would be just another bullet in a dog that refused to die. And it was not the remorseful voice of ‘too late,’ but rather of what he had hoped not to find, but had also expected: Just another dead end to a search that had already taken far too long. He didn’t even have to hear the remainder of the Turk’s words in order to figure out what had happened. If they were not there, and there was no trace of any disturbance or experimentation, transport, anything—then it was all for naught.
However, the news about the state of the town in contrast to what he expected to hear both puzzled and concerned him, whether or not it was to be in the foreground of his immediate worries. “They’d been slain and the remainder deserted,” he repeated questioningly, as though mulling over the thought. It did not seem like the work of the same people. There was also no reason behind it. The kidnappers of Arina and Reno were clean, effective and far from concerned with the idle slaying of innocents. Whoever had decided to lay waste to the town had had nothing more in mind than some grotesque pleasure, or possibly a grudge against both town and its inhabitants.
Regardless the reason behind their aggressions towards Nibelheim, the fact still stood. This was not the work of their enemy. “Leave the remainder of the clean-up and study to the W.R.O. operatives already there,” came the command. “It’s not what we’ve been looking for.” The idle the dismissal of the Nibelheim files revealed the others still working away, original creations engineered to trail the source of the cover-up and its maker, in the hopes of being able to overcome the blinds put into place and find name, time, specifics. Every smallest clue was a step closer to the goal they had been working at and held so clearly in mind.
Some, he thought as the casual knock reported the swift presence of Rude at the door, far more than others.
He didn’t have to tell the man to come in, and didn’t bother to, rather took only a moment more to type out an additional command and update the progression of the heavily overworked programs before rising and glancing to the doorway. His eyes paused upon Rude but for a moment, long enough to know that he was the one suffering the most out of all of them—which was indeed nothing new, just a mere reminder. And then, flickered past the bald man dismissively to the shade of pink, the bright, confused, hopeful eyes of the Tifa Lockheart lookalike. In fact, he admitted to himself. She did a good job of concealing herself. The body structure and facial features were clearly there, but there was something obviously misplaced about the woman. The way she held herself, the gaze she projected, without even taking into consideration the emotions written so clearly behind it…
“Enlist the aid of a W.R.O. agent and have him drive you down to the landing field immediately,” Tseng ordered Louis over the phone, making the pause between his words seem just his own noncommittal desire for results and the best way to garner them, rather than that two problems had just entered his office. “A flight man and plane have been prepped in advance and are prepared to return to Edge by this afternoon. Return to headquarters immediately afterwards. I’ve got another mission lined up for you when you come in.” He snapped his phone shut and gestured idly to a chair that Tifa was to take. Rude could stand for all he cared. There was no reason to be hospitable to him. He wouldn’t accept nor need it.
“Miss Lockheart,” he stated thoughtfully, studying the woman enigmatically. “It seems to me that… you do not know who I am. Is this correct?”
Though he knew the answer, he would wait for her to agree. Perhaps, in the manner in which she responded, he could garner some clues as to just what she thought was going on. And how quaint. Rude was so obviously wrapped up in his own concerns that there was not even an eyebrow quirked in his boss’s appearance. Droll as he might be as he admitted it to himself, Tseng was beginning to really feel the toll Reno’s absence was taking on him. No one ever smiles anymore. He was, quite frankly, getting a tad bit sick of it all.
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Posted: Wed Feb 25, 2009 11:45 pm
Accomplishments are transient._____________________________
They pulled me in unremittingly_________________________________________ ______________My mind's not a well;
_____________________It won't run dry 
Kara had followed Rude quietly from the elevator and down the rather white halls of the W.R.O. Nothing was familiar to her, of course if she had remembered anything prior to her accident it would be that of the ShinRa building. The W.R.O was a mere thought at that time. A secret amongst the thoughts of those who held high standings within the corporation. Yet, amongst all the white plastered upon the never ending halls there was something serene about the place, something that made it feel much like .. home. A word that never really crossed Kara's mind much anymore.
As Rude pressed through the Commisioner's doors she hesitantly followed the Turk. Still uneasy upon the situation at hand, perhaps confused and scared as well. All these emotions played deep into the chocolate brown eyes that peered around the room, before they finally came to a rest upon Tseng. He was another to refer to her as this 'Lockheart' and unlike Rude, he gave her a more welcoming feel. The bald Turk seemed much more preoccupied with his thoughts, and they showed evidently. She listened carefully to Tseng before shaking her head in a no sort of fashion. He was right. She had no clue who he was.
Gently she tucked back the stray bangs that always seemed to find there way across her eye's, finally finding the courage to speak. "I came here, hoping you might have some answers for me... hoping to be whole again. I do not remember any of you, and I pray this is not some sick joke to pass the time." She paused looking over the two, perhaps she sounded much like a broken record to Rude. Yet, perhaps not. After all there was very little she knew about anything, and two years wasn't a very long time to learn it all. "Please.."
[Writers block. Sorry.]
__________________________________WISDOM IS KNOWNG WHAT TO DO NEXT_____________________________________________skill is knowing how to do it,________________________________________and +virtue+ is doing it.
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Posted: Thu Feb 26, 2009 10:31 am
Rude waited only a moment before he pushed the door open and stepped through. He did not glance back at Tifa, he merely waited for her to enter the room so he could close the door behind her. Tseng seemed to still be busy, but he obviously was not deterred by their appearance. He was not listening to the conversation mainly because he was much too much trapped in his own thoughts. Rude closed the door finally and then stood a few feet away from Tifa while Tseng finished with his phone call. The bald Turk folded his hands in front of him again, as he so often did.
If his emotions were showing, Rude was not aware of it. His face was deadpan as usual and he was just as quiet as ever. While Tseng was thinking that no one ever smiled anymore, he must have forgotten that Rude never smiled to begin with. The bald Turk didn't talk much as it was, though Reno's kidnapping had obviously made his silence even more so. What helped with keeping his posture, his stoic stature, was his sunglasses. He enjoyed the fact that no one could see which direction he was looking at, if he ever really was looking at the person that was talking to him. The eyes always leaked information: sunglasses were a must, day or night.
Rude shifted his weight slightly when Tseng finally turned his attention to the two of them. Or rather, to Tifa. He listened briefly as he asked if she remembered him, which was an obvious negative. The woman that used to be Tifa certainly held herself differently, not to mention the way she spoke was very different from its usual. If he were someone like Cloud, it probably would have been frightening. But Rude did not care; he had never been close with Tifa, not as an enemy, nor as an ally. Whatever interest he had had in her in the past was long gone.
And so Rude would continue to stand, not minding since he was always standing.
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Posted: Sat Feb 28, 2009 8:57 pm
Disconcerted silver eyes remained leveled at the woman who clearly was Lockheart, whether or not she could recall such. Yet such an expression passed as abruptly as it had come to light in such unusually placid eyes, and even as the familiar woman spoke tentatively—which itself was unconscious truth to her loss of self in its abnormality—Tseng turned away from her, motioning with faint a nod and gesture of hand that she not stop speaking merely for his shift in position.
“I can assure you, Tifa,” he answered the clear amnesiac with no hint of disapproval or ire in his words, but a mere strain of weariness he dared not voice any louder by his tone. “If ever I had no time to spare, now is just such an occasion.” As his words fell yet again into silence, use of the woman’s first name alien on his lips as surely as it would fall upon eager ears, he swept away the open files on his desktop and open to all eyes—hers most desperately seeking such reassurance, proof, really—was laid out a simplistic, organized file with every available hint of data on the woman whose namesake was Lockheart, Tifa. A secondary file nudging just out from beneath the other lay open—this one far more incriminating and on a level of confidentiality that could—to any fool or sage alike—swifter than anything else prove that such games were not the methods by which this man at least appropriated his entertainment.
Cool silver eyes leveled themselves onto her countenance as he pulled back his seat for her, gesturing that she come sit before the ignorant screen, as once more he stepped away to one of the filing cabinets he’d had relocated into the room along with the technology required for such a high maintenance collaboration of operations. Though any other might have been more than confused in the haphazard collection of files and electronics spider-webbing themselves throughout the room, Tseng seemed right at home in the chaos—an amusing thing should anyone care to note it in the midst of such otherwise dismal a predicament as they found themselves in. Ah, but therein was the somberness yet again returned, and without a mess made, or hesitation apparent, another file fished out from nearly a hidden filing cabinet.
He leafed through the papers pinned to the manila envelope as he carefully threaded his way through the labyrinth he organized but bit by tedious bit, until finally he reached the woman at his desk and laid the file down open beside her arm.
“This contains the specifics of the mission you were sent on over two years prior, assigned by Rufus Shinra himself, and seen off in secret during the midst of the chaos apprehending the ShinRa Electric Power Company in those days.” A silence, then, a breath audibly laden with apology, perhaps a something more that would remain for now indistinguishable. “You’ve been missing for about a year, if not longer, Tifa. It was not until today that Rude managed to stumble across you. And even then, you were not and are not our utmost priority.”
He did not take a seat, but remained standing, much like Rude still was. A studious glance to the bald man, before at last the dark-haired Turk appropriated the chair he had previously offered Tifa. The woman could and would believe whatever she wanted, but in the end, she was Tseng’s responsibility. The last thing the man wanted was another reason to have the remnants of AVALANCHE on his back, discrediting the organization he’d pulled countless strings to establish as it was. The problem remained, however, whether whatever had occurred to damage Lockheart’s memory had or had not been a permanent thing. Or, even if it was not to be permanent, if there was anything they could do now, two years after the fact.
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 7:33 am
Accomplishments are transient._____________________________
They pulled me in unremittingly_________________________________________ ______________My mind's not a well;
_____________________It won't run dry She stood there watching, waiting. Tseng casually replaced the open files upon his desk with one single file, and clearly from a distance, she could see it was her own. Her picture, though different from her current self was indeed her own. A flash of hope, of excitement or even perhaps a mixture of fear crossed her eyes. She could not help but be eager to pilfer through the pages, so she assumed the seat that he offered to her moments before.
Here before her, was the entire history of herself. Her very being captured upon paper. She would soon know perhaps everything she needed to, and just maybe it would trigger the memories that lay so well hidden beneath the surface. With much care she picked up the folder, her fingers running across the illuminatingly white xerox paper, tracing down the words stopping occasionally upon a few. All of her statistics seemed to match with the ones that the hospital had bestowed upon her over a year ago. Her finger then hovered over the birth date, and from such information she calculated she was about twenty-five, give or take a few months.
There were a few other names that were reference to her paperwork. All of which were also tied to a small group of rebels also known as AVALANCHE, she too being once a member of the said group. She paused momentarily on a few of the names; Aerith, Cloud, Vincent ... These names pulled at her subconcious (sp?), and it was then that she slipped from the chair her body seizing and convulsing. Slowly her eyes rolled back from view and her conscience dissipated into total darkness. The sounds that seemingly echoed through the commissioners office were no more, and the only sound left in her mind was that of her own voice, and one other. Yet, she was unaware of the reason this memory was recalled and why she was experiencing it now. A single name from the three triggered her sub conscience, causing it to try and recall fond as well as hated memories. Only one managed to break through the barrier. Cloud..
"Hey, lets make a promise. Umm.... if you get really famous and i'm ever in a bind.. You'll come save me, all right?"
"What?"
"If i'm ever in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me. I want to experience that at least once."
"What?"
"Come on! Promise me!"
"All right I promise."
It was then, that the voices silenced themselves amongst her very thoughts. The black faded away, and the same well that seemingly haunted her being, her dreams came into view. Only this time, it was different from before, there were two figures. Though blurry she could make out small details to the figures. Colors were evident, though the faces, were beyond recognition. She knew now, that the female was indeed her younger self. The only thing that seemed evident upon the other person was, hair .. spiky yellow hair. Then, without warning the visions ceased. Her eyes fluttered open, and the surroundings were blurry for only a moment before she attempted to sit up, her hand gently reaching toward her forehead. It hurt, it really hurt. As if there was a strain upon it. "Ugh.." Her cheeks flushed slightly as she looked up, only to be greeted by the watchful eyes of both men standing in the room.
__________________________________WISDOM IS KNOWNG WHAT TO DO NEXT_____________________________________________skill is knowing how to do it,________________________________________and +virtue+ is doing it.
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 9:33 pm
There was one thing to be grateful for. In her amnesia-induced state of mind, the unusual Lockheart before them seemed not in the least bit concerned with whatever politics and operations obviously ruled their lives—even to this day. She was oblivious to the ills and miseries, strife and challenges that tormented their everyday lives. She, this woman without an identity to cling to, no responsibilities to cater to, no inhibitions to clash with her morals and past—for she in essence had none that would carry a penny of worth upon her conscience. Her entire purpose in life centered upon the finding and establishing of who she was, and when the information was placed beneath her nose, she took to it like a dog to an old and ragged chew toy which was by far its favorite amongst all the others.
Sitting there with nothing to voice, merely mulling over his countless suppositions and thoughts, as always, plans being established as swiftly as they were dismissed in light of more important subjects, there was a period of unbroken silence in their midst, fragrant with the air of eagerness and the desire to find one’s self. It was almost intoxicating if one allowed themselves to get lost in it. Tseng did not step into the emotions clearly playing over the countenance of the woman that was and was not Tifa, but that did not mean he didn’t sit there and enjoy—yes, even dare to enjoy—the relaxation that seemed to overwhelm the room.
In these past few months, time and time again, progress had been made. In both small steps and larger bounds, it had been there, rising up out of the midst of familiar proceedings and challenging situations both. With every failure, another path was broken out into the thick woods, and another way found towards the goal in mind. Care was taken, as well, to ensure the long life, and minimal disruption to those woods. For they had oft been abused, and had only now begun to heal themselves, sprouting up as tender saplings and affluent inhabitants that’d not been seen in such areas for many a year since the scar left on the planet from Meteorfall, and the Shin-Ra before it.
He was not sure when he had grown to care so dearly for the little things that he had been so cold to before. Where once eyes passed over such miniscule transgressions—in his eyes—now they settled and were unable to break away, mourning in silence, behind collected a countenance, their unjust destruction and miseries.
Who would fight for those without the ability to do so for themselves?
So in his steps he took care, that underfoot no tree that gently sprouted with promise of life and shade to those who would fall someday under its noble canopy would be crushed by unconscious feet, the unwary and uncaring passersby. It was no tribute that he do such. But by these means, these tender expressions none recognized but few individuals—and these without intent to ever speak a word of such, at least within hearing range—he established himself as a man by whom many things had passed and at last, old concerns thrown aside, at least some, new purposes were formed, old strengths reborn and tempered.
What resulted of such was a curious man in essence, for he was now more withdrawn and open both than ever he had been afore. And what fleeting notions crossed his mind he did not share, but let whisper past in unexpected moments, so that their true intentions, underlying meanings, were as enigmatic as even his clearest of dictations.
Yet in such, it was astounding in a somber resembling type of manner, that he sat and devoted thought no more to present ills, but took attention and focused it on the reclamation of this lost pup, who had some years ago wandered to their doorstep and forged new ties—that she might become a wolf and leave the dog pack that so oft fell apart, whereas theirs strived to live on. Gently he handled her now, as though she still was a pup, for in truth, was she not? Spirit was willing, but at times, the supports by which she stood floundered. And now, most devastating, to take maturing youngling and find her reverted to pup once more, so eager, full of life and promise—and just as lost as… but no. No, he thought then, eyes settled gently on her silent, intent form, even as he shifted so that chin was upheld in palm of hand. She is not as lost as once she was. That, at least, is clear to me.
But that was when suddenly a change in her demeanor and body caused chin to raise up out of hand, his body tensing with the signs that twisted swiftly from hesitation into outright loss of control. “Tifa,” he breathed breathlessly, soft as it was loud. He did not so much as dive to retrieve her as he slipped to his knees to catch her before she could do herself any more unintentional damage. A finger was pressed gently to her neck, heartbeats cautiously monitored, body held steady in the hopes that force would quell her shaking, though he knew such things were beyond his control. He had little knowledge in the ways of medicine, and what mostly he derived of it was garnered more from logic than actual education.
The convulsions did not last long however, and soon they ceased, while beneath shuttered eyelids the amnesiac’s eyes darted rapidly to and fro, making him certain that whatever had brought on such an assault had diminished into effects on the body reminiscent of dreams. “I believe, we might have just triggered the first of a painstaking series of revelations for her,” he murmured, more for Rude’s sake than his own. The man might be engulfed in his own concerns, but he was not uncaring.
None of them were.
Though, people did not always believe that.
Belief, however, was always impressionable. It took faith to stand behind one’s beliefs, and how many of them, countless shadows of people, held no more to their lives than just as that which they appeared as? Mere shadows… in a world of sunlight destined to reveal them for what truly they were. And he? Was he any better than they?
No… Shadowed a life or not, the difference was in how they used such things as they learned upon their way.
Eyes fluttered open in a soon reddened face—perhaps one that would only become all the more so when she realised what position she was cradled in, concern evident in the touch of her unremembered superior, one time enemy. Softly silver eyes searched her countenance, no expression of remembrance clear upon her face. He very well might have been mistaken then.
“Tifa, are you alright?” he asked levelly, eyebrows knit gently in concern, his voice faintly tinged with the sound, if perhaps slightly withdrawn, distant due to pressing thoughts and suppositions. “Do you need one of us to get you something? A drink, painkillers perhaps,” he added on, noting the hand pressed to her forehead. There was no sense in rushing her. He had no time to waste, perhaps, but things were limited, even with as many channels as he had open, waiting for input from countless sources… What did such matter if he had but to wait in the midst of everything else he commissioned? For the time being, whether she realized it or not, this woman was his concern. Let him hang for it, perhaps, but Reno and Arina had been pushed just momentarily back fraction in their importance. Such was the juggling act of his life.
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 10:00 pm
The time between Tseng and Tifa's conversation and whatever else in between almost did not exist for Rude. What he wanted was to get out of that room. If just for a moment. He felt no need to be there any longer...and he was still very anxious to move on to his next place of observation and discovery. He did not understand why he could not push these thoughts behind him and concentrate on the task at hand; he had brought Tifa here to Tseng and he needed to stay there. Be supportive in whatever way. Trust in Tseng, trust in his methods. He always had before. But this had never happened before. He breathed in deeply, only to lose that breath when Tifa suddenly fell unconscious.
Rude was not sure how to act. He was ready to leave for whatever needs deemed necessary, not only for Tifa's sake, but for his own as well. It was not out of selfishness, it was out of necessity. Yes, Rude was caring. He was a deeply emotional man, but he would not make this be known. It was no one's business. He had no room to make exceptions. He could not falter. He was a Turk. He was supposed to be strong and vigilant. He had never broken before. He wasn't going to now. He could handle this situation, his own situation, and whatever situations that were to come. There was nothing else he could do. He was not one to complain or deny such things. The only time, the only time he would ever, could ever falter...was when that redhead was around. When Mirage was around. But they weren't here. So in it was, in it stayed. It was okay this way. He could still handle it.
No big deal.
Tifa had woken now, but so far there were no requests to fetch anything. Rude made it known by his stance near the door that he would go and get whatever was needed. He, at first, had felt as though he was merely there for such purposes; just to fetch things. We're dogs after all, aren't we, Reno? Maybe not anymore. What with W.R.O. Tseng's sudden position was almost overwhelming, however. Rude did not remember seeing this man ever so...careful. Caring. It was odd. But so was Tseng's psychotic state, so long ago. That was, of course, in the past. Hopefully it would stay that way.
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2009 9:25 am
Accomplishments are transient._____________________________
They pulled me in unremittingly_________________________________________ ______________My mind's not a well;
_____________________It won't run dry Her position remained stationary for only a moments time. It was in that moment she received comfort in the hands that so delicately held her. It was also in that moment she felt the redness across her cheeks flare even more so, perhaps from embarrassment. The hand that nestled so softly against her own forehead, moved slowly down her side gently wrapping around Tsengs very own. It was then that she slowly removed his hand from her slender form, and moved his arm away from her. Her eyes greeted his own silvery orbs with that of confusion, as well as thanks. Perhaps, she was unsure of how to react. Whether he merely was being a gentleman. Or perhaps she was reading the signals all wrong. So she merely moved away from him. Slipped from his very grasp, forcing her very being to stand. She looked between the two men before shaking the stray bangs from her face. "No, I think I will be fine."
Turning around she glanced over the file once more. Before looking back at Tseng. "May .. May I take this?" Perhaps Kara, no her name was not Kara, it was Tifa. Perhaps, Tifa was holding tightly to some god sent hope. A faint silver lining beyond the darkened skies, and this very file was that silver lining. It had obviously triggered a sub conscience reaction, and perhaps if she were to read it over and over and over more would come, present themselves before her. Yet, if they did not she would still have the opportunity to go to the places she once belonged to. To visit these names upon the paper and maybe even then something would happen. She hesitated for only a moment before grabbing the file, not awaiting an answer. Eager eyes pleading toward his very own.
Tifa was indeed also well aware of the simple fact she was not the main concern at this time, nor did she care to be. It was at that time she looked over Rude. To her, he seemed almost as if he was fighting an emotional war within himself. It was as if part of him was not there. Though it was not his visual presence that gave it away, no. It was the aura he held, the vibes that seemingly poured from his very being. She offered him a soft smile, "I don't know if this is any consolation or not." She began, stepping closer to him. "A while back, a few men came into my place of work. Jabbering as men usually do in such places, but these men caught my attention. They were talking about an incident that they witnessed earlier. Apparently a few people were severely injured. I suppose the only reason why I'm telling you this is because, according to these men ... they were dressed like you. One a red-head, the other female. They thought it was odd, I suppose I did too." She paused momentarily before leaning in close to his ear, so that the two could only hear, her breath gently grazing his very skin. "The men explained to the authorities that they left on the boat to Costa Del Sol."
Turning away her hand gently reached slowly for the door. Tifas intentions were now focused elsewhere. She intended to find out more, more about who she was. Though she hoped the needless information that she overheard would serve as helpful for someone else. "I am going to the Seventh Heaven. I think whoever I saw, will be there... I hope.." She then left, file in hand.
__________________________________WISDOM IS KNOWNG WHAT TO DO NEXT_____________________________________________skill is knowing how to do it,________________________________________and +virtue+ is doing it.
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2009 2:16 pm
He was not certain how to interpret her actions, but did not stop her either, grateful in the least that she had suffered no harm to body or mind in her unusual spasm of remembrance. For it must have been so, for her to remain so calm, and similarly so purposed. She was gentler in her manner, a stranger in an unusual situation but with the ability to swiftly, easily lock onto her objective and pursue it with vigor. It was qualities such as this that had once made her so beneficial, if headstrong a Turk in their midst. And similarly, an opponent not to be misjudged for her apparently voluptuousness. Beneath flesh, old habits did not die so easily—regardless whether memory sought to eradicate all such past memoirs or not.
Lockheart still had her fire.
Tseng rose easily to his feet then, seeing that she was easily gathered to herself and needed nothing from them. It was a relief to hear, in a way. She understood their needs as swiftly as they could garner hers. Swift, efficient—such things silently delighted the man that nodded in acclamation, and as she paused, fingers tracing over the folder he had removed from amongst countless files, he thought for a moment of denying her that right, and then thought better.
“Take it,” he allowed, even as she glanced away from him with beseeching eyes to the stoic man who had done little in all this time. Not that much at all had happened. But even as she moved as though to leave, which instigated a gentle raising of brows upon the part of Tseng, wondering since when she had thought she could run out on them, and then mulling over just as swiftly the fact that they had little jurisdiction over her for the time being.
But it was her following words that sent him reeling in silence. And though he stood quite still, and his face showed no sign of the thoughts running through his mind, he allowed eyes to shutter slowly and then open once more, gaze turned upon the computer and his phone, idly resting beside the lopsided keyboard. “Costa Del Sol,” he repeated after her, and swept swiftly to the computer at last, even as her words diminished into silence, retracting several missions, canceling others, reworking the entire system and assigning others to swiftly report in for a briefing.
Rude, indeed, was already here.
But he would not be side-tracked, and gaze returned to Tifa, as she edged almost impatiently towards the door. And he understood her desires and decided he could not fault her for wanting to run out on them now. Even as she left, Tseng glanced swiftly to Rude and then to his desk, pulling open a drawer and fishing out what appeared to be the standardized Turk’s phone. Slipping a fresh battery and thin metal plate into the device, he pressed the power button and activated it swiftly. As soon as the screen began to glow, he tossed the device to Rude.
“Give it to her,” he ordered, without an explanation. “Then come back afterwards and we’ll send you out.”
Tseng slid into the seat previously occupied by Tifa, before his computer, and continued to send out a manifest to all overseas operatives. “Looks like we’ve finally found your lead,” he commented offhandedly to the bald Turk.
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2009 3:02 pm
It seemed his help was not needed, so Rude stepped away from the door once again. He put his hands to his sides and watched Tifa and Tseng both get to their feet. He was somewhat surprised to see Tseng allow Tifa to take files from his office, since the man seemed to be quite enamored with his paper work, but made no protest. If Tifa was lucky, she would be able to remember more than what she had already, if her little episode had been a recollection.
Rude was silent when Tifa finally pulled her attention onto him, but it made him incredibly uncomfortable. He didn't want anyone consoling him; he didn't need it. Who did she think she was? It wouldn't have been something that actually bothered him if he really wasn't in such emotional distress. But then, she wasn't saying any kind of apology. She wasn't trying to give any good advice. In fact, what she was saying was pulling at his chest. Costa Del Sol? Rude wasn't even on the right ******** continent. He had momentarily seized up until Tifa had let herself out of Tseng's office. There would have been some words of thanks, but it seemed Rude had been unable to give any.
The bald Turk walked up to Tseng's desk as he sat down and was handed a cell phone. He had wanted to say something, but there were no words. He was finally going to leave on a better lead. He merely grunted in response to Tseng just before he left the office, only to head out into the halls with the phone tightly in his hand.
"Tifa," Rude called, jogging down the hallway.
[omfg. i'm so sorry. D: this post sucks. haha. i have such crazy writers block.]
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