So I'm finally feeling back up to writing more missions and fan fic stuff after one of the longest weeks I can remember. Hopefully, things will get back on track, but this is a start. Anyway, personal life aside, I now present to you the eight mission. Enjoy. :)

Mission Nine - Operation Turk Trap

The sudoku puzzle was labeled easy, the coffee vibrantly fresh, the windows open, a summer breeze whisking through the curtains, no messages from lawyers on his PHS, no meetings to attend with any of the one horse, one jackass, and one mule of the Apocalypse, and no paperwork needing done to cover for his subordinates screw ups.

Yes, Tseng thought as he took his seat and inscribed the first of his many numbers into the tiny boxes of his puzzle. It was going to be a good day.

And then he saw it, there, upon the tiny little desktop calendar with playful kittens the secretary downstairs had given him. Written in disturbingly sparkly purple ink and circled with about a hundred different arrows pointing to the date complete with underlines, dashes and Mr. Yuck stickers, was A.S.S.E.S. Prom 7:30 P.M.

Immediately the coffee tasted more bitter than usual.

And, as though the Lifestream was lining up to pee on him some more, the door flew open and once again the blonde-haired terror stood before his desk, hair unkempt and smelling suspiciously like chocolate and cookies.

"I need some Turks for an urgent mission."

Yep, he filed the date away for future reference and thought about writing it in his journal. Dear journal, today the Lifestream peed on me.

"They are out on other assignments."

He had, after all, promised Reno, Rude, Cissnei, and especially Vincent, a few days off for practically winning the Shinra Acting Performance Trophy for best actors and actresses in Midgar after the show they put on for Mama Tseng.

"Get them back here right this minute, it is a matter of National Security."

Tseng continued to do his puzzle without so much as looking at the enraged over-hormonal teenage who would someday sign his paycheck.

"I do apologize, Sir, but I am not authorized to call them back from their missions. Why don't you ask SOLDIER for help if it is a crisis."

"They're busy."

Tseng raised an eyebrow. Busy? Since when was putting straws up your nose, dancing the funky chicken, and reciting rewritten parodies of LOVELESS considered busy? He began to wonder just what Aerith saw in Zack sometimes.

"I think Lazard might make an exception to your needs, Sir. You are the president's son after all and Lazard over ranks me. Besides, the last time you borrowed my Turks-"

"I'll just have to get them myself then."

Tseng blinked and stared at his coffee cup. Was he hearing this correctly? Rufus Shinra. Mr. I'm too Lazy to Bother putting my own Letter in my Own Mailbox, actually planning on hunting down and retrieving his Turks?

He leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee slowly. This could be interesting.

"I'm sure they will enjoy your company on their missions. You will find them at the following coordinates." Tseng handed the obnoxious teenager a map of Midgar with four tiny colorful dots upon them and wished him the best.

Rufus stepped out of the room with a look of confidence and vanished down the corridor.

"Hey, Reeve! Want to see something really cool."

The Head of Urban Development peered through the door. "Sure."

"Pull up a chair then. This is something you'll never see on Youtube."

In Sector Five, Playground…

He had never told his comrades about his secret obsession on his spare time. As far as they were concerned, he had headed off to the local bar for a nice cold drink. And after the week they had, who could really blame him. But, what they did not see, was his detour to the Sector Five train station. It was a good thing they had parted ways for the day, or this would never be lived down.

Rude allowed a rare smile as the swing carried him into the air and back again.

One of these days, he would swing over that damn bar. One of these days…

Sector Seven, Seventh Heaven…

Vincent stared at the pinball machine with a look of death. First the string and now he was being defeated by little silver balls and blinking lights. What was this world coming too?

The barkeeper, whatever her name was, not that he cared, continued to watch him and sigh, occasionally keeping an eye on the child wandering around the bar.

For a moment he considered drawing the Death Penalty and making those darn little flipper things rethink allowing that ball to escape.

Sector Six, Wall Market…

Why was it that the one place to get a decent priced spool of yarn had to be anywhere but the upper plates? Didn't anyone up there ever even try crocheting or anything?

Cissnei sighed and browsed the assortment of colorful thread. It felt good to not have Reno trying to figure out what she did on her spare time for once. Not that she had ever let him in on anything. As far as he knew, she was madly obsessed with cute little ceramic moombas. Holy knows she had a whole collection of the darn things, most contributed by Reno, and disturbingly Reeve for some reason.

She shuddered and tried to focus on the task at hand. Just what colors did moogles like again?

Sector Eight, LOVELESS District…

The red haired Turk sighed and sat back to watch the characters on stage reciting yet another beautiful line of the hit play. How had he managed to put seeing this on the back burner for more than four years? Maybe Genesis had something here after all. Now if only something would blow up, it would be something worth taking his fellow Turks to.

So enthralled by the colorful characters talking to themselves on stage, he did not notice the newcomer to the play take a casual seat beside him.

Until, he casually checked his watch, and noticed a familiar white suit to his left…

"Holy chit man!"

A grumpy patron shushed him.

"Your boss said I'd find you here."

Reno paled and stood up, accidentally kicking an unfortunate man to his right.

"Damn it all to censored hell. I pay a censored chitload of gil for this ticket and you censored the entire censored play up for me!" Reno backed away from the pilot and casually made his way into the aisle-way and the exit.

"Sorry dude."

And bolted like his trousers were on fire. Further behind the swearing pilot, he heard the footfalls of Rufus Shinra following at full gallop.

The streets were crowded for a Thursday afternoon. Not good.

He began to panic, scouring the area for a place to hide. There. He spotted an alleyway and turned towards it, vaulting over a small dog and a little old lady and ducking under a clothesline before turning the corner. There was no way Rufus could keep up with that.

Unfortunately, what he failed to notice was the unfortunate infantryman walking proudly through the streets carrying a cactus.

Until…

"Cacty!" the blondeinfantryman screamed and watched the neon pink ceramic container soar through the air towards the railing leading down to sector Seven's Slums. Reno shoved the pathetic man aside and dove after it, the mistake known as Rufus following.

"What in the hell?" The red haired Turk clutched the cactus to his chest and continued running. "What kind of guy names a cactus Cacty? I'm calling it-OhshithelldamI'mscrewedhowdidyougetherebeforeme?"

Rufus cornered the unfortunate Turk. "Because I'm just that cool."

Back at the office…

"Hmmm," Tseng clicked the button on his PHS, watching the flashing light congregating around what appeared to be some sort of unusual maze like contraption with a bunch of ghost-like colorful things running around frantically.

He watched the one labeled Reno go spinning off of the maze with a little sad face. Immediately, the remaining three ghost-like things halted, little exclamation points popping up above their heads, and then all hell broke loose.

Sector Seven, Seventh Heaven…

He was exactly two hundred points away from breaking the world record of Pinball. Just a few more clicking flapper things, a speck more blinking lights, and he would be ruler of the world. He'd show Lucretia how real men played pinball, and no one outplayed Vincent Valentine. It just did not work that way.

The door flew open, the radio playing a suspicious tune that sounded something like a game over theme. Chills ran along his spine. Not now. Why did everything seem to happen like this. Was he destined to be emo for the rest of his life?

Rufus grasped him by the collar of his suit and dragged him away from the machine right as the little ball missed the last glowing light needed to secure the record and tumbled down into the recesses of doom beyond the flippers.

Sector Six, Wall Market…

Carrying three different colors of yarn in a nice little basket, she was ready to officially begin her day. After all, those little sweaters for the Poor and Unfortunate Homeless Moogles of Modeoheim were not going to knit themselves.

She rounded the corner and froze.

"Why in the hell are we doing this again?"

Reno…She frantically searched for a place to hide. If he knew about any of this, not only would she never live it down, but she might be knitting socks for the rest of her life.

"Shut up."

The basket fell from her hands. Why did that sound suspiciously like Rufus with them.

"Hey,Cissnei!"

She swore and collected her yarn and thread. There was no escape now.

Wasn't the A.S.S.E.S. Prom today? She paled and considered fleeing. But, then again, no one fled from Rufus successfully. No one.

In Sector Five, Playground…

At the appearance of his comrades strung together prisoner-style with green, orange, and yellow yarn, he knew his boyhood dreams were crushed. Rufus eyed him with that demonic look that immediately made him think of The Omen and wish he had some holy water on him.

The chain to the swing hitched, making him lose his balance.

"Noooo!" He soared through the air and landed face first into the little moogle jungle gym. It was official, he had reached his lowest point yet and Rufus was a telepathic demon.

"Way to go big guy," he heard Reno approach. "You've just damned us all."

All he knew is that today would not be the day he swung over the bar.

Back in the office…

Tseng watched the two words GAME OVER flash repeatedly across his PHS screen. With a sigh, he flipped it closed and set it upon his desk much to the astonishment of Reeve.

"That had to be the coolest thing since Lazard went all spider man at the board meeting."

The leader of the Turks smirked. "I know."

Back at Sector Five's Playground…

"With all due respect sir, today is our day off." Cissnei struggled to untie her hands from the yarn as the president's son marched before them a little bit like a chocobo hyped up on coffee.

"You do not get a day off until I tell you so."

"But Tseng said-"

"I over rank that incompetent peacock."

Reno could not resist laughing at the thought of Tseng as a peacock.

"Silence! You only speak when I tell you to."

Vincent sat brooding at the end of the string of Turks, wondering just why he wanted to do this again. Perhaps, if he begged really nicely, Hojo might turn him in a science experiment of some sort so he would not have to face this hell.

"Today is the Academic Shinra School of Elite Students prom."

"You mean we gotta go babysit those little smartass-"

"Academic little angels." Rude covered for his comrade before they could make the oh so royal one angry.

"Yeah, little angels my ass." He rubbed the scratches along his face given to him by several of the females.

"But, Sir," Cissnei managed to work the yarn off of one hand. "Why do you need us. We're Turks, not your typical student security force."

"Yeah, they get paid a whole hell of a lot better than us."

"With free lunch." Rude added.

Vincent perked up at the idea. So there really was a better way to earn lunch money. He would have to pursue this further.

"So what exactly do you need us for?"

Rufus paced back and forth, frightening a small child.

"You will find your target at the following coordinates." He handed the piece of paper to Rude. "You are to kidnap-I mean escort said target to the prom at no later that 7:30 this evening. Failure to do so will result in a punishment worse than anything you have ever encountered before."

Reno lazily played cat's cradle with the yarn, balancing the cactus upon it. "Gonna make us lick stamps again for the company catalogs?"

"Damn it. Foiled again."

"With all due respect sir, you really cannot punish us with anything we have not encountered before."

--

On the next episode of One Hundred Tiny Missions:

Who exactly is Rufus trying to take hostage/take to the prom as his date? Just why is Reeve freaking out over something in his in-box? Who is hiding behind the file cabinet now? And….

There is something to be admired about a man bold enough to wear tights…

Tune in next time folks for another exciting episode of One Hundred Tiny Missions.

Until next time,

SageQuill :)