Nintendraw
Darling Darci
Tseng
Turk Commander
The chilled office air was so still Tseng could almost hear Cissnei’s uneasy heartbeat from across the room. She was lounging while the young Turk leader wrapped up the rest of the week’s paper work with his standard signatures. Today marked a rather challenging day for all those who served directly under him. Turk members who would train under the Soldier standard. It was an edgy idea that the President had written off for weeks but Tseng was persistent. He looked at the future of the Turks and saw them as inferior. That would not be the case – not while he was breathing. At this time the Turks were the deadliest force ShinRa had under its belt. Master assassins and information gatherers…all the worst missions were laid at their feet.
Yet then there was Soldier...
Like Veld before him, the Wutaian considered Soldier to be made up of mindless brutes. He saw the advantage of the warrior branch and was forced to consider that the two factions seemed to serve the same purpose in different ways. His mission in Junon had been the biggest wake-up call of his career. He and one of his best Turks were tasked with scoping out a minor rebellion forming within the walls. When their car was intercepted by a group of rebels Tseng had kept his cool. He was used to fighting close range, but it was a different thing entirely when someone else had the element of surprise on their side. The men had wielded knives and swords – and their close combat tactics cut his partner down before Tseng could blink twice.
Passive eyes slid closed for the moment, and as they did he could see each and every Turk beneath him dying in that same position in Junon. He was lucky. His upbringing have him a fierce advantage in hand-to-hand styles that most didn’t see as he stood behind his gun. His instincts carried him to survival and put down his enemies but it would not always be that way. Most of his men were trained to deliver one swift killing blow. It was the way of the Turk. It was everything Tseng had trained for under previous command. Yet it was not fool-proof. There were certain variables but Tseng preferred to deal in absolutes.
The two suits almost jumped out of their skin as Reno burst into the office like a hurricane. “Are ya kiddin’ me?” Tseng had yet to open his eyes, but Cissnei’s barely stifled snicker had him curious. Reno’s voice was a dull shout, but this was the most irritation the newest Turk had shown in weeks. “Yer the one who signed us up for this, yo? Feelin’ extra cruel this week, eh bossman?” Clenched in the boy’s hands were orders that had been mailed weeks ago. Tseng sighed. Every time he’d convinced himself that Reno wasn’t a worthless brat he pulled another one of these stunts.
“Perhaps it wouldn’t be as shocking if you hadn’t waited until the last minute to read them,” Green eyes narrowed on the Commander, though any retort was quickly forgotten as Tseng stood abruptly. Obviously fearing a reprimand the redhead moved to lean against the wall next to Cissnei’s chair. Their eyes were glued on his movements and he merely locked his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders. “You will take this seriously. If I see lack of improvement I will remove you from this program.” The threat was a bold one. Once you were a Turk there was no going back. No quitting. You left the service in a body bag. He let them contemplate that for a minute.
“So I’m hearin’ you say yer gonna watch us suffer ‘n take notes? Too good for this training?”
Tseng’s answering chuckle was a dangerous one. Reno knew just how to press his buttons and seemed to have no fear in doing so. The new hour chimed on their phones and Cissnei finally unfolded herself from the chair. The copper haired woman looked positively relieved to be fleeing the tension between Tseng and Reno, but she flashed Tseng a smile as she dragged Reno from the room after her. As always, Tseng was grateful for her. She understood him like no other. It was part of the reason they worked so well together.
Waiting a few seconds so he wouldn’t be forced to catch the elevator with the other two, Tseng walked the papers to their secretary’s desk for delivery before heading a few floors. His pulse was slightly more articulated than usual. The exhilaration of his new exploit had blood pounding in his ears. If he had to be quite honest, just the revelation of the Turk standard slipping away wouldn’t have been enough for him to go through with this almost absurd idea. How could he learn anything from just any first class? He didn’t have many lessons in swordsmanship, but it was all the same. No, Tseng deserved the best – and that was what he always got.
There was always a constant speculation of who was better. Sure, Soldier had the legendary three, but Tseng was feared in a way that they would never be. He was a killer. Sephiroth, Angeal, and Genesis…well they were ShinRa’s poster boys. They were what honorable young men aspired to be. Tseng was ruthless, and he’d been dying to get the chance to fight alongside the General. To have someone that pushed his limits and abilities. Through Sephiroth he would learn new ways of fighting that would push him past even legends. In spite of their equal status within the company, Tseng hadn’t spoken more than ten words to Sephiroth in their entire career together. The missions they worked together were in-and-out successes and that was that. They were all business and no real interaction.
So when Tseng stepped into the General’s office, he took a moment to survey the area. Most would assume that being a Hero made for a glamorous life, but Sephiroth’s work area was akin to his own. It was neat, orderly, and to the point. A few pictures of him and his two closest friends sat on shelves, though they didn’t draw attention to themselves. It was hard to imagine the three had been young boys at one point in time. Human, rather than Gods sitting atop a ShinRa-made throne. The Wutaian didn’t bother waiting for acknowledgement, merely taking the chair sitting in front of the man’s desk. “Reporting.” His tone was one that was used to commanding respect. Though he was technically studying under Sephiroth he had no intention of becoming someone’s student. Eventually he’d make quite clear that the two where on equal footing.
(( OoC: Hey my post formats are totally lame but I'll work on them gradually. I wanted to post while I had the chance! Hope you like them. ^^;; ))
Nintendraw
Nintendraw
Sephiroth’s brow furrowed as he reread the orders he had received for what must have been the hundredth time. Weeks had passed since the end of the insurrection in Junon, and since then, Midgar and Shinra had enjoyed a rare peace. What could possibly have happened in the Turk department to have convinced the president to send out a missive like this? And, most unusually, he hadn’t been exempted this time, either…
Of Shinra’s three military branches, SOLDIER was by and large the strongest and most popular. Beloved by the public as a sort of modern Round Table, SOLDIER dispatched the most impossible of missions with impossible ease. While the infantrymen were relegated to patrolling Midgar’s myriad streets and alleys and the Turks given most of the targeted undercover missions, SOLDIERs were sent primarily when larger or better-organized terrorist groups needed putting down. Simply put, SOLDIER was Shinra’s ultimate vaccine to war; even its presence could deter some enemy groups from attacking. And while a single Mako-infused soldier could lay waste to several groups of insurgents without getting winded, Sephiroth was no ordinary soldier, for in his career, he had put down more revolts and diverted more grisly conflicts than any in the history of the program. As SOLDIER’s undisputed general—or, as the public said, its god—he was often held in reserve for Shinra’s most aggravating thorns or its most potent examples, and often dispatched sparingly and alone. More of his days were spent shaping the company's future than fighting out in the field. Though he never had been one for working in teams, there were only so many training sessions, so many company meetings, and so many publicity stunts he could stomach before the longing for something to do or someone to fight set in again. Sometimes, it annoyed him that his fellow Firsts, Angeal and Genesis, had done more to subdue the latest rebellion than he.
The situation didn’t annoy him so much as long as he was sent on at least one mission per conflict, and usually the one to put an end to said conflict. Yet here he was, sitting at his desk in peacetime with a missive in his hands that was very clearly addressed to him that clearly discussed no mission whatsoever “As per Order 7463, select Turks from Chairman Heidigger’s Public Security Department will report to select members of SOLDIER for supplemental training. Effective two weeks from now on July 15, εуλ-0000, Commander Tseng of the Turks will report to Major General Sephiroth of SOLDIER for specialized training.”
Order 7463 detailed Shinra’s plans to make the Turks more versatile by supplementing their training with that of SOLDIER. Not only had he been made to participate in this absurd program, but he had also been assigned to train the Turks’ own Commander Tseng. Sephiroth didn’t deal in coincidences, and this seemed too much like one. Would SOLDIER be merged with the Turks once this ‘training’ was over? He recalled President Shinra putting off the idea as too radical and counterproductive to Midgar’s development during the previous war a few years back; was he reviving it now because he thought that, without a war, the company no longer needed two powerful but related armies to accomplish essentially the same goals?
In his humble opinion, Shinra and Midgar needed only SOLDIER. For just a few Mako injections over a man’s military career, Shinra gained a compact, elite fighting group that could fulfill the most grisly tasks with a minimum of personnel. Compounded with the fact that a single SOLDIER was stronger and sturdier than the average Turk or infantryman, the entire organization saved the company money. In his opinion, Turks and infantrymen were merely subpar redundancies in an ever more bureaucratic organization.
But orders were orders, and so long as Shinra provided him ample opportunity to grow stronger, Sephiroth would follow them to the letter. That didn’t mean that he had to like the orders he followed, though. Sephiroth stood and paced about his sumptuous but spartan office, his booted feet clumping lightly on the steel-plated floor in time. There was no love lost between the company’s three military branches; each thought itself superior to the other two and used every opportunity to prove themselves. Though the infantry had long since accepted that there was no defeating the more specialized branches, the Turks continually thought themselves the better, more fearsome branch, simply because they targeted specific, powerful individuals from the shadows…
The general snorted derisively, his hand clenching into a fist around an invisible Masamune. Just let them try to substantiate such nonsense in front of him.
Smirking to himself, Sephiroth resumed his seat and returned the new missive to its place on his desk. Having been raised inside the sterile sanctity of the lab, he was both unused to and abhorred unnecessary clutter; thus, everything in his office was at least categorized by event, date, and alphabetical order. The silver-haired man had just busied himself with another document when footsteps sounded from the doorway and halted before him. “Reporting,” stated a quiet voice, its owner seating himself without awaiting acknowledgment.
After a moment’s pause, the general lifted his gaze to meet his companion’s, expressionless save for a minor glare in his brow. His reputation was such that few in the company acted without his permission in his vicinity. Certainly, Commander Tseng was almost as distinguished in his department as Sephiroth was in his, but the Wutaian was in SOLDIER territory now. He would be wise to refrain from such impudence in the future. “Commander Tseng,” he greeted, curtly but calmly. “You are two minutes late for our appointment.” If Sephiroth meant any insult by those words, he concealed it in his blasé statement of fact. Not once did his professional tone waver even in the slightest. With that, he rose, stepped around his desk, and offered the shorter man his hand. Neither of them needed introduction; after all, their reputations preceded them. “Am I correct to assume that you have never visited this floor before?” Sephiroth asked. “Come; I will show you around, and then I will test your current ability in the training room. A diagnostic test, if you will."
With orders like these, it would be best that they both got straight to business. The sooner he could get this distasteful assignment done with, the better. Director Lazard had good reason to send prospective SOLDIERs to Angeal instead. The last student Sephiroth could possibly want was his organization’s rivals’ leader.
***
(Seems like a good place to stop. Let me know if I need to give you anything more to reply to. I hope you like it!)
darling darci
Nintendraw
