Hey folks, thought I'd get this update up early. Got a big weekend planned and I won't be able to update until Monday at the earliest. Thought I'd give you guys something to have fun with over the weekend. That, and Reno keeps trying to delete it by 'accident.' Thanks to everyone who's been reading and enjoy this mission. :)

Mission Fourteen - Operation Mini Quiche

He somehow knew that this would happen eventually, and as he picked up the black phone and stared at the two Turks behind the Plexiglas window, he could only image what they had done this time.

"This isn't what you think it is boss."

Tseng raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then please tell me why I'm sitting here discussing legal options with you two when I should be home, tending to my goldfish and trying to finish that sudoku puzzle. Right now Reeve's at home suffering through the agonizing hell known as the mini quiche just because you two thought it would be cute to mug an old lady for a candy bar!"

"Actually," Reno smirked. "This time I'm innocent. Rude did it."

The balding man scowled at his red haired companion and Tseng was momentarily grateful for the barrier between him and them.

"Reno started it."

"I don't care who started it. All I know is that unless those mini quiches are low fat, taste like Holy itself created it, and don't go straight to the judge's thighs, you two are going to Dio's Desert Prison for a long time."

Reno paled. "Chit man, ain't that where that creepy dude who tried to, you know, that with me is now?"

Tseng clutched the phone tighter, his gaze narrowing. "Yes Reno. I believe Bubba, Leroy, Otis, and some guy named Richard have been asking about you lately."

"I'll do anything! Just don't make me go back there! Please boss! Anything!" he pressed against the window, trying his best to look cute. Unfortunately, he looked more like a drunken moomba than any sort of cute fuzzy animal that might have melted the elder Turk's heart.

"Enjoy your time off." He hung the phone up and retreated from the visiting room. He had a lot of phone calls to make today. None of them good.

Reeve's kitchen 9:00 A.M.

Reeve Tuesti was a simple man, who lived a simple life, in a simple apartment. He had a simple plat of pansies on his windowsill - not that the mako light was doing them any good, but hey, it was colorful at least and made him happy. He had a simple notebook he kept by the phone for emergencies, and a drawing table for his latest projects that he could not complete at work.

But of all of the simple things he did not have that day, it just had to be his "Quik-Cook" quiche pan.

He rubbed his beard and rummaged through the labeled cabinets in frantic search. Tseng was counting on him to have 300 mini quiches ready by tonight or there would be hell to pay - in other words, Tseng would be allowed to skip out on several more meetings and he'd never get his desk back. It was already starting to suffer from being "Turkized" too and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to the smell of coffee out of his office.

Yes, if Reeve Tuesti did one thing today, it was going to be making those quiches. Not even a random Meteor falling from the sky or AVALANCHE blowing up another mall mascot would deter him from his goal.

Now who had he loaned that pan too again? He tapped a bandaged finger against the counter top with a sigh, only to freeze a few seconds later.

"Oh dear."

He reached for his telephone and dialed a familiar number.

"What Reeve?"

"Tseng, about those mini quiches-"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line.

"Please Reeve, do not make me have to bribe Weiss and Rosso Law Associates into representing us again. The last time, they locked Cissnei in a closest, tried to dissect Vincent for some odd reason, managed to put Rude on death row to be executed by attack kittens, and ended up weaseling a room under Midgar from us that we are not even allowed to say anything about. For the love of Holy Reeve, think of the attack kittens!"

Reeve sighed. "I'm going to need whatever Turks are not in prison yet."

Some time later…

"You needed to see us, Sir?" Cissnei cautiously stepped across the threshold to the kitchen, surprised to see Reeve adorned in an apron and sorting ingredients by the kitchen sink.

"You two are helping me today."

Vincent raised an eyebrow, a little disturbed about the whole idea of cooking. Worst yet, the auburn haired female Turk at his side was nothing short of a hazard in the kitchen - and that was pouring a bowl of cereal. If Reeve was stupid enough to allow her access to a stove of all things, they'd be rebuilding most of the Shinra Corporation Building.

"Sir, not to be rude about this whole thing, but-"

"I'm doing the cooking."

Vincent sighed in relief. Oh thank Holy. The eye sore of a building lived yet another day.

"You two are going to retrieve my quiche pan. You will find it at the following coordinates."

He handed them a small slip of paper and sent them on their way.

Hojo's laboratory 9:45 A.M.

Vincent shuddered as he drew back the gold bikini clad doorknocker and listened for the familiar grumbling that lay beyond.

"If this is about your lunch money-"

There in the doorway stood the most horrific beast every to grace the laboratory of Midgar. It wore a neon yellow rain coat turned lab coat, fuzzy blue slippers with half mutilated chocobos on them, a pair of swim goggles, and a beach towel for a cape. A glow in the dark 'H' was painted across his bare chest.

Cissnei hid behind her taller counterpart.

"Where is the quiche pan Hojo?"

The mad scientist blinked stupidly. "How would I know? I gave that away months ago."

"Gave it away? Who'd you give it too?" The stoic Turk was not in the mood for this today.

"Some random SOLDIER guy pacing the hallway."

"Fine," Vincent turned away and began walking. "Let's go, Cissnei."

Cissnei paled. Did Vincent realize just how many random SOLDIER guys were in this building?

Three hours, seven hundred eighty two NPC characters later…

"I'm a SOLDIER."

"I know that."

"I'm a SOLDIER."

"Where's the quiche pan?"

"I'm a SOLDIER."

Cissnei sighed, watching her comrade fight a losing battle with the SOLDIER 2nd class. "Vincent, give it up. He's a SOLDIER. Every time you press the 'X' button that's all he's gonna say."

"I'm a SOLDIER."

"This guy knows something," Vincent pointed the Death Penalty at him and shot. The SOLDIER collapsed revealing a second one staring at the map of the building further down the hall.

"Hey, you! Where's Reeve's quiche pan?"

She followed, the shuriken lazily swinging at her side. This was hopeless.

"I'm a SOLDIER."

And it was right then and there that she learned that Vincent Valentine was indeed not a vampire as Reno and Rude thought.

They owed her 1,000 gil.

Shinra Exhibit Room, 3:00 P.M.

Vincent scribbled down something on the piece of paper he had been carrying and showed it to his comrade.

"No."

He tried again.

"No Vincent."

And again.

She sighed. "I'm not unsilencing you until you learn that human's don't go all incredible hulkish, grow wings, have glowing eyes, and give unfortunate SOLDIER 2nd classes wedgies that put them in intensive care."

They arrived before the model of the Shinra Rocket, hardly a soul in sight aside from random village people on tour.

She caught a glimpse of silver approaching with a graceful glide.

Then again…

She quickly Esunaed him.

"It's about time!"

"Valentine." The SOLDIER 1st class acknowledged them, and Vincent turned several shades paler.

"Silence me again this instant."

"Nope." She continued studying the rocket, as though enjoying this. "You shouldn't have destroyed that hallway."

At this Sephiroth smiled. "Still like that Vincent. I never knew you and Hojo were so close."

Vincent glared. "I am not-"

"We all have our secrets. Here, I'll tell you one of mine."

Sephiroth bent closer and whispered to Vincent's ear.

"No way."

The dashing SOLDIER nodded. "Um hum."

"Liar."

"Go ahead, check it out. You'll see what I mean when you see it for yourself."

Cissnei raised an eyebrow, uncertain if she even wanted to know. Vincent appeared at her side and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her out of the exhibit room and towards Sector Eight.

"What's going on now?"

"Guy stuff."

Why did this always happen to her?

Sector Five 5:00 P.M.

Zack Fair was mighty proud of himself as he stood by the oven and watched the golden brown appetizers bake, the warm aroma filling the house. A familiar flower girl watched from the table. "See, that golden delectable goodness just rolls off of them when done properly."

There was a knock. Well, actually, more of a weary tap at the door.

"I'll get it Zack. You watch the quiches."

"Sure thing my lovely little turnip."

She opened the door and immediately slammed it shut, barring it with industrial strength duct tape.

"What's up Aerith?" he pulled the tray from the oven with his floral patterned oven mitts.

"Turks."

He raised an eyebrow, not quite expecting that. Tseng only chased Aerith on Wednesdays. Today was a Friday.

"Just give us the damn quiche pan, Fair," Cissnei warned, in no mood to negotiate. "Don't make us blow up your last flower wagon."

"Oh, Zack, what are we going to do?"

Zack handed the pan to Aerith and dusted off his apron. "Hide this."

She struggled to find a hiding spot for the valuable pan.

"We know you have the pan, Zack. Just give it to us and no one gets hurt."

"You can't prove it!"

"I can see you from here."

He began to panic. "No you can't, what am I wearing then?"

Vincent's voice answered. "The ugliest sweatshirt I've ever seen. For Holy's sakes, tulips are not manly icons."

"It was laundry day for us! Lay off for a change!"

"Come on, Zack, this is important. We need that pan."

"You'll never take it alive!" He rushed to protect his treasure as the two Turks charged through the door towards him.

Aerith reached for the phone and dialed. "Joy, this is Aerith. Yeah, send an ambulance for my boyfriend. He's about to be KOed by a mini quiche."

Reeve's kitchen, 6:00 P.M.

Two very tired, very irritated Turks stood at the door, scorched quiche pan in hand.

Reeve raised an eyebrow, wiping the flour from his brow. It was then that Cissnei noticed the second quiche pan sitting in the sink, waiting to be washed.

"I found it shortly after you left."

They had been betrayed.

Shinra Cafeteria, 7:00 P.M.

"Tseng?"

The leader of the Turks dropped his sandwich in shock, turning to see the newcomer to the table - his table. Not even his own Turks dared to disturb him here. So why in the hell was the resident Director of SOLDIER now sitting across from him, white gloved hands folding a napkin into an elegant origami swan?

What had his Turks done now?

"I have an urgent mission for you and your Turks."

--

On the next episode of One Hundred Tiny Missions -

The Turks gear up for their mission from Director Lazard, but first must be reevaluated in their skills…Will Reno ever stop getting zapped by the little red robot thing? Can Rude master the concept of rolling through enclosed spaces? Will Cissnei be able to jump over the unfairly tall obstacles? And more importantly, will Vincent EVER manage to pick up that darn treasure box?

You're in for a treat folks. Tune in for 'Operation Evaluation'. You know you're curious.

Until we meet again,

Sage Quill :)