Corporate Warfare
Chapter 1.
The Turks, I hated the bastards, they made my life miserable. About four years ago Midgar was almost completely destroyed by a surge of magical energy called Holy. Someone, no one really remembers who, founded a company called Three Legged Lion, or TLL for short. They headed the ROM, or 'Revitalization of Midgar' movement. Today they are they are equal to Shinra in infamy, fame and riches.
I am David Boekal, a member of the newly formed Black Ops, recruited to combat Soldier and Turks alike. I love my job, at times; this was not one of those times. I'd been caught napping. Beaten and left to sit in one of the random, artificial rainstorms someone had dreamed up. Synthetic weather and yet there was still no day down here in the slums...go figure.
I got up, my left leg twisting at an odd angle and I fell forward into a puddle of rain washed blood. Fumbling, I found a cure materia and used it to fix my leg, using what little manna I had laughed in the process. The ruddy reflection I saw nearly made me laugh, and I might have, if not for my cracked rib. I looked absolutely horrid. Burns, bruises, cuts, scrapes, mud, fresh blood, dried blood...all mixed and smeared together.
Normally I'm not all that bad looking; now...a Vraklados probably looked more inviting. Some people might have been thinking about finding a doctor. All I realized was that I'd left my apartment door unlocked and that I'd forgotten to feed my cat.
Getting up, I limped out of the alley I'd been left in...again the bastards hadn't killed me... I would have killed them without a second thought...or a first for that matter, and I'd tried. I found my car, well the companies' car, and got in. Now I decided would be a good time to assess my injuries. Protected by two inches of bullet resistant glass.
"Aww, shit." I cursed, finding a gunshot wound in, or actually, through my shoulder. A quick check in the mirror told me bullet's exit point was closed up, but I'd reopened the front during my trek to the car. I was bleeding all over myself, now I knew why I felt light headed.
"Gonna hurt like a bitch." I muttered, heating up the cigarette lighter. Once it was hot enough I pressed it against my shoulder, cauterizing the wound. My left hand tightened it's already white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. It didn't feel or smell very pretty. Using my left arm I pressed the ignition switch and drove off. To hell with work, I was going home first.
Three showers, a half hours sleep and four beer saw me feeling pretty well patched up. I put on a fresh uniform. Black Ops supplied all my clothes. Anything and everything I wore had their logo plastered on it somewhere. Today, or at least I thought it was still the same day... I ended up in some black combat fatigues with body armor around the vital areas. It looked cool and it protected my shoulder and rib to boot.
I made the 45 minute drive to the TLL office building in half that time. Our building was massive, 86 floors up and 37 down. Though the pubic only had knowledge of thirty four of the lower floors and had access to only twelve of the above. We, as Shinra did, had our own personal army. Stationed and trained directly in sector 5. Trooper, named by one of the employees wishing to make a mockery of Soldier.
The sliding doors hissed open, as usual all conversation stopped. Having my job and standing 6'9 had that effect on people. I fished a cigarette out of one of my pockets and lit it despite the 'no-smoking' signs plastered around the building. Those rules were for regular employees, not for me. I had fairly long dark brown hair, sometimes I tied it back, you know, for the hell of it, but normally it just kind of hung there.
I walked into the lift and, several employees moved and stood on the opposite side as I did. Others left entirely, favoring the safety of the stairs. I keyed in my desired floor, number 76.
"Black Ops member David." I said, holding up one hand and staring at a panel on the wall. A retinal, finger print and voice recognition were taken.
"Confirmed, access granted." A synthesized female voice stated. We rose slowly to the 76th floor, ignoring any other stops the passengers before me had requested. I was briefly aware of some of the other employees in the lift talking.
"I still don't get it, who the hell is he?" He was a big guy, probably low level security. I turned towards him; he looked at me, no trace of fear in his ignorant eyes. his friend looked distressed and suddenly disowned him.
"The hell you lookin' at?" He quipped.
"You."
"Yeah well don't, or I'll pound your ass."
"Sure." I replied skeptically, flicking the butt of my cigarette onto the floor near his feet. He launched a big, hairy knuckled fist towards my face. I quickly drew a tongfer and blocked with it. A large crack rang off the metal walls, floor 43, enough time to deal with this bum. The second Tongfer was in my hand instantly. I delivered several stinging blows to his mid-riff. I grabbed one tongfer by the end and belted him across the head with it.
Game and Match.
"Never, never underestimate your opponents' skill." I lecture the unconscious man. The lift doors opened on the floor that was our office. Some of the passengers stared at me as if I had just single handedly defeated weapon or something. Did it ever cross their minds that less than three hours ago I'd gotten my ass kicked. Not a chance.
I was good; I could handle any one of the Turks, two on a really good day, but not all four.
And they knew it.
"Where in Leviathan's name have you been?" Roarke, our unnapointed leader yelled at me. Several thought ran through my head.
Unconscious, getting kicked around, out, working, working out...
"Busy." I finally decided.
"Really," Roarke looked skeptical. "While you were 'busy' word was sent down. You're to report to the top floor to see Him."
Oh, shit. A stick of gum found its way into my mouth. Chewing gum had been an advert about a month ago when I'd tried to quit smoking. All I'd ended up with was another equally distressing habit. Especially when I'd found the gum with nicotine in it.
"Now!" Roarke shouted.
"Yes...sir." I used the second lift in the room, this one lead directly to one of three floors. One was my current floor, the second was 85th floor, our Presidents office, the last floor was floor 86, the floor he lived on. The doors opened only seconds after they closed. Why weren't the other lifts as fast as this one?
A blonde man, one full foot shorter than me and dressed in a white suit, stood staring out a window, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned his gaze towards me.
"Ah, David! sit, sit."
"Thank you, sir." I still wasn't used to the formalities of dealing with this man.
"No need to be formal, not up here. Formality only counts down there...in my office."
"I know sir."
"Well then, down to business. You have an extra room in that apartment of your do you not?"
"Yes, I do si..." I caught myself and bit off the last word. An amused smirk worked itself across the president's face.
"I'd like to have our newest employee move in there with you."
Not a chance in...
"And I'll add two thousand gil to your paycheck for as long as he remains there."
"Sure no problem." I now made twenty thousand gil per week. My apartment was in the lower cost housing in Sector 4. I saved my gil for a more important hobby. The president reclined in his sofa.
"I'll not delay you any longer. His name is Adom Staedlyr, meet him on floor 13."
I stood, nodded, rose and left. Picking my way carefully through our office so as not to be seen or heard. I made my way through floor thirteen, praying silently that this Adom would recognize me. No such luck. I tried finding his cubicle.
"Excuse me sir." The man I questioned turned around and looked as if he was going to have a heart attack. "Never mind." I finally found it after finding someone who didn't faint or run at the sight of me.
"Adom Staedlyr?" I asked uncertainly.
"Yes?" The man asked, not turning from whatever it was he was doing.
"President Dorin told me you needed a place to stay."
"Correct." He stood and dusted his coat off, and grabbing the war sword he'd been polishing off the desktop. I got a glimpse of a name plate. It wasn't his desk.
Whatever
He was only four inches shorter than me. A great feat in Midgar. His black hair was slicked back giving him a mobster sort of look. He sheathed the war sword on his back.
"Hey, my car's out back." I pulled an electronic starter out of my pocket and, with the push of a button, started my car. Mainly so I could find it when we got there. I the only car in the massive garage that was running. "So, where do I pick up your stuff? Adom merely shrugged. I sighed and sped off in the general direction of my apartment.
Chapter 1.
The Turks, I hated the bastards, they made my life miserable. About four years ago Midgar was almost completely destroyed by a surge of magical energy called Holy. Someone, no one really remembers who, founded a company called Three Legged Lion, or TLL for short. They headed the ROM, or 'Revitalization of Midgar' movement. Today they are they are equal to Shinra in infamy, fame and riches.
I am David Boekal, a member of the newly formed Black Ops, recruited to combat Soldier and Turks alike. I love my job, at times; this was not one of those times. I'd been caught napping. Beaten and left to sit in one of the random, artificial rainstorms someone had dreamed up. Synthetic weather and yet there was still no day down here in the slums...go figure.
I got up, my left leg twisting at an odd angle and I fell forward into a puddle of rain washed blood. Fumbling, I found a cure materia and used it to fix my leg, using what little manna I had laughed in the process. The ruddy reflection I saw nearly made me laugh, and I might have, if not for my cracked rib. I looked absolutely horrid. Burns, bruises, cuts, scrapes, mud, fresh blood, dried blood...all mixed and smeared together.
Normally I'm not all that bad looking; now...a Vraklados probably looked more inviting. Some people might have been thinking about finding a doctor. All I realized was that I'd left my apartment door unlocked and that I'd forgotten to feed my cat.
Getting up, I limped out of the alley I'd been left in...again the bastards hadn't killed me... I would have killed them without a second thought...or a first for that matter, and I'd tried. I found my car, well the companies' car, and got in. Now I decided would be a good time to assess my injuries. Protected by two inches of bullet resistant glass.
"Aww, shit." I cursed, finding a gunshot wound in, or actually, through my shoulder. A quick check in the mirror told me bullet's exit point was closed up, but I'd reopened the front during my trek to the car. I was bleeding all over myself, now I knew why I felt light headed.
"Gonna hurt like a bitch." I muttered, heating up the cigarette lighter. Once it was hot enough I pressed it against my shoulder, cauterizing the wound. My left hand tightened it's already white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. It didn't feel or smell very pretty. Using my left arm I pressed the ignition switch and drove off. To hell with work, I was going home first.
Three showers, a half hours sleep and four beer saw me feeling pretty well patched up. I put on a fresh uniform. Black Ops supplied all my clothes. Anything and everything I wore had their logo plastered on it somewhere. Today, or at least I thought it was still the same day... I ended up in some black combat fatigues with body armor around the vital areas. It looked cool and it protected my shoulder and rib to boot.
I made the 45 minute drive to the TLL office building in half that time. Our building was massive, 86 floors up and 37 down. Though the pubic only had knowledge of thirty four of the lower floors and had access to only twelve of the above. We, as Shinra did, had our own personal army. Stationed and trained directly in sector 5. Trooper, named by one of the employees wishing to make a mockery of Soldier.
The sliding doors hissed open, as usual all conversation stopped. Having my job and standing 6'9 had that effect on people. I fished a cigarette out of one of my pockets and lit it despite the 'no-smoking' signs plastered around the building. Those rules were for regular employees, not for me. I had fairly long dark brown hair, sometimes I tied it back, you know, for the hell of it, but normally it just kind of hung there.
I walked into the lift and, several employees moved and stood on the opposite side as I did. Others left entirely, favoring the safety of the stairs. I keyed in my desired floor, number 76.
"Black Ops member David." I said, holding up one hand and staring at a panel on the wall. A retinal, finger print and voice recognition were taken.
"Confirmed, access granted." A synthesized female voice stated. We rose slowly to the 76th floor, ignoring any other stops the passengers before me had requested. I was briefly aware of some of the other employees in the lift talking.
"I still don't get it, who the hell is he?" He was a big guy, probably low level security. I turned towards him; he looked at me, no trace of fear in his ignorant eyes. his friend looked distressed and suddenly disowned him.
"The hell you lookin' at?" He quipped.
"You."
"Yeah well don't, or I'll pound your ass."
"Sure." I replied skeptically, flicking the butt of my cigarette onto the floor near his feet. He launched a big, hairy knuckled fist towards my face. I quickly drew a tongfer and blocked with it. A large crack rang off the metal walls, floor 43, enough time to deal with this bum. The second Tongfer was in my hand instantly. I delivered several stinging blows to his mid-riff. I grabbed one tongfer by the end and belted him across the head with it.
Game and Match.
"Never, never underestimate your opponents' skill." I lecture the unconscious man. The lift doors opened on the floor that was our office. Some of the passengers stared at me as if I had just single handedly defeated weapon or something. Did it ever cross their minds that less than three hours ago I'd gotten my ass kicked. Not a chance.
I was good; I could handle any one of the Turks, two on a really good day, but not all four.
And they knew it.
"Where in Leviathan's name have you been?" Roarke, our unnapointed leader yelled at me. Several thought ran through my head.
Unconscious, getting kicked around, out, working, working out...
"Busy." I finally decided.
"Really," Roarke looked skeptical. "While you were 'busy' word was sent down. You're to report to the top floor to see Him."
Oh, shit. A stick of gum found its way into my mouth. Chewing gum had been an advert about a month ago when I'd tried to quit smoking. All I'd ended up with was another equally distressing habit. Especially when I'd found the gum with nicotine in it.
"Now!" Roarke shouted.
"Yes...sir." I used the second lift in the room, this one lead directly to one of three floors. One was my current floor, the second was 85th floor, our Presidents office, the last floor was floor 86, the floor he lived on. The doors opened only seconds after they closed. Why weren't the other lifts as fast as this one?
A blonde man, one full foot shorter than me and dressed in a white suit, stood staring out a window, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned his gaze towards me.
"Ah, David! sit, sit."
"Thank you, sir." I still wasn't used to the formalities of dealing with this man.
"No need to be formal, not up here. Formality only counts down there...in my office."
"I know sir."
"Well then, down to business. You have an extra room in that apartment of your do you not?"
"Yes, I do si..." I caught myself and bit off the last word. An amused smirk worked itself across the president's face.
"I'd like to have our newest employee move in there with you."
Not a chance in...
"And I'll add two thousand gil to your paycheck for as long as he remains there."
"Sure no problem." I now made twenty thousand gil per week. My apartment was in the lower cost housing in Sector 4. I saved my gil for a more important hobby. The president reclined in his sofa.
"I'll not delay you any longer. His name is Adom Staedlyr, meet him on floor 13."
I stood, nodded, rose and left. Picking my way carefully through our office so as not to be seen or heard. I made my way through floor thirteen, praying silently that this Adom would recognize me. No such luck. I tried finding his cubicle.
"Excuse me sir." The man I questioned turned around and looked as if he was going to have a heart attack. "Never mind." I finally found it after finding someone who didn't faint or run at the sight of me.
"Adom Staedlyr?" I asked uncertainly.
"Yes?" The man asked, not turning from whatever it was he was doing.
"President Dorin told me you needed a place to stay."
"Correct." He stood and dusted his coat off, and grabbing the war sword he'd been polishing off the desktop. I got a glimpse of a name plate. It wasn't his desk.
Whatever
He was only four inches shorter than me. A great feat in Midgar. His black hair was slicked back giving him a mobster sort of look. He sheathed the war sword on his back.
"Hey, my car's out back." I pulled an electronic starter out of my pocket and, with the push of a button, started my car. Mainly so I could find it when we got there. I the only car in the massive garage that was running. "So, where do I pick up your stuff? Adom merely shrugged. I sighed and sped off in the general direction of my apartment.