Whew, I did not forget about you missions people. Sorry about the wait and even moreso sorry about the quality of the missions, this one included. The Muse has been super busy lately with zero time for much of anything, let alone missions. I do hope to get more up soon and have them actually be "roll on the floor, laughing out loud, comical". I really do. Until then, please enjoy this one and I hope it makes you at least smile at Tseng's expense.
Mission Thirty Eight - Operation Coffee Crisis
By the third red light, fifteenth jaywalking pedestrian, and eighth idiot changing lanes without turn signals on LOVELESS Boulevard, he was beginning to wonder just why he had even bothered to undertake such a task as this one to begin with.
Because you're the best friend, Reeve grumbled in the back of his mind, considering shoving the disgruntled Turk occupying the seat beside him into traffic as the light changed yet again back to that horrific color the once peaceful engineer now considered to be the devil's icon.
The Devil. Tseng had somehow managed to tick off the guy in the red suit with the pitchfork and this was his punishment. Reeve sighed, drumming the wheel with his fingers and trying to remember just how much of a fine he would get if he hit the gas pedal at that particular moment.
"Maybe you're taking this whole thing way too much to heart," he suggested, half expecting the leader of the Turks to draw his weapon and try to shoot him once again. It wouldn't be the first time today. After all, that little old man feeding the pigeons had just about had a coronary when they had been stopped by the first of the series of lights. And he was pretty sure somewhere a small child was repeating several forbidden words to a parent who would no doubt try to track them down eventually with a summons to be silenced for life. Such was the luck of unfortunate cursed engineers trying to be nice to even worse cursed Turks in need.
"Reeve," the leader of the Turks rubbed his forehead with a groan, watching an evil college student in a parka pondering whether or not to cross at a 'do not cross' sign. "In the past three hours, I have had to fill out an accident report over a bowl of Fruit Loops, been cornered by an overweight moron in serious need of some sort of therapy in an elevator, watched my not so polo playing future employer knock himself out with a golf club, been informed that I have three weeks to make the most hated man on earth the most popular amongst people, and ran out of coffee. Please, do tell me why I need not be concerned over this at the moment."
The engineer took a deep breath and pulled into the right lane, flipping on the turn signal and turning onto the familiar street he knew by instinct. Unless you counted the fact that for some oddball reason, he has accidentally managed to successfully divide by zero and somehow not blow the entire universe up while doing it, he really couldn't top the day his best friend was having. But, he did know a quick cure.
"Perhaps a little bit of caffeine could do something about that. I know this great little coffee shop just a few blocks from here. They can make whatever type you like."
The Turk looked up with pleading, if not admiral eyes, as if someone had magically turned the spotlight upon the man in the driver's seat and begun to sing a chorus of hymns and praises. Caffeine. Yes. That would solve all of Tseng's current problems, or at least make them seem insignificant in the game of life he totally sucked at. Coffee fixed everything.
Reeve smiled and pulled into a vacant parking space, turning the ignition off and stepping out to guide the caffeine deprived leader of the Turks towards the small building situated on the corner of LOVELESS and Eighth.
It was not a very large building, a powder blue color with tinted windows and a half door salvaged from some sort of barn, but the neon coffee cup perched atop the doorframe, flashing its siren call did more to outshine the remaining flaws of the otherwise interesting building. To someone like Tseng, it was an entry into paradise.
"Welcome to StarCrooks," the youth behind the counter greeted, blond hair falling around his shoulders and making him look more feminine than the Turk and engineers wanted to admit. Tseng raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Hadn't he seen that lad before somewhere?
"Good morning," Reeve casually replied, glancing over the extensive menu behind the counter. "I'd like to order a caramel latte with extra whipped cream and possible sprinkles."
The youth nodded, jotting the order down and looking at the Turk, several shades paler than before.
"Don't I know you from somewhere?"
"N-No sir, you don't know me." the youth's eyes turned shifty and evasive if not downright nervous. "I'm just your every day coffee wench. Nothing to see here, I don't know you from anywhere. You didn't accidentally buy black market pastries from me. No. Never met you before. What can I get for you today?"
Reeve raised an eyebrow and looked from Turk to coffee boy, uncertain if he even wanted to know. There were some things engineers did not ask and relations were part of the category.
"Coffee, with two creams and sugar please." The Wutainese man ordered, the youth behind the counter blinking in confusion.
"Um…Do you want the skinny cow creamer, or the Whoa Mama You Need Slim Fast creamer?"
Tseng blinked. All he wanted was a tiny bit of creamer to flavor the coffee. Through the darkness of the cosmos somewhere, something warned the unfortunate leader of the Turks to surrender now and abandon all hope, go back to the office, and just suffer through the day.
The coffee addiction won.
"Just regular creamer."
"We don't have regular creamer," the youth paled even further, his hand trembling as he tried to keep Reeve's order from being destroyed. He could vaguely recall something in the manual about serving drinks to Turks, but at the moment, he couldn't quite remember what it was. "We have a Just Watching Your Waistband creamer. That's kinda in between."
"Fine." Tseng sighed in exasperation. All he wanted was a simple coffee, was that difficult?
"And for your sugar? Would you like Diabetic Coma, Instant ADD, Non-Sugar Substitute Sugar-"
"On second thought," The Turk sighed, admitting defeat. "Can I just have a cup of plain black coffee?"
"Sir, we cannot serve plain black coffee. It's considered racist."
At this, the leader of the Turks looked at the engineer who had decided to put him through this hell and fingered the handle of the pistol. Reeve winced and looked at the poor, terrified youth behind the counter.
"Look. My friend here is going through a rough time in his life right now and needs something strong, yet tolerable. Sweet, but not so sweet. Just a little pick me up to get through the day. Think you can manage something like that?"
The youth nodded earnestly, scrawling something down and running off to mix the caffeinated beverage. Tseng's jaw dropped.
"How did you-"
"It's called Caffeinese. Understood by all baristas across the country. You'll learn it sooner or later."
And Tseng had one more reason to respect the irate engineer's knowledge of the world.
Ten minutes later, two very appealing drinks were set before the two Shinra executives in cute Styrofoam cups depicting tiny little moogles flying around and wearing funny costumes. Reeve paid for the drinks and tipped the barista, leading the way back into the street towards their car.
"So, what do you think?"
Tseng scowled. "I don't like the looks of this Reeve…"
The engineer halted, staring in surprise at his comrade. Tseng, not like coffee? Was the man really ill or something much worse. He opened his mouth to inquire, but the figure rounding the corner made him rethink the action.
"Me neither. Let's-"
"Behold! The gift of the goddess befalls us all!" A hand draped across his shoulders out of nowhere, nearly shoving him into the side of the black sedan and nearly spilling his latte all over the vehicle. Reeve trembled in horror, the insane SOLDIER looking upwards at the streetlight with a somber expression, tears falling from his eyes as he swung his copy of LOVELESS around carelessly, colliding with Tseng's shoulder.
And all three human beings watched in mortifying fascination as the Triple calorific heart attack deluxe frappamochalatteexpressachino flew through the air, and right into the grasp of the sinister college student crossing the street, never to be seen again.
Tseng groaned, burrowing his head into his hands, resisting the urge to sob over the unfortunate turn of events. It just was not his day - ever. The engineer watched as the sinister member of SOLDIER hopped off along the street, nose buried in his book as though nothing had happened.
And Reeve knew from that moment onward, that there was no force on earth strong enough to help a Turk like Tseng.
--
On the next episode of One Hundred Tiny Missions:
There are just some things you do not send certain Turks to do…
Until we meet again,
SageQuill