A/N: A special thank you to Jason Tandro for helping me vet the first three chapters. This is for you. Thank you, mate!
I'm sorry for the long delay. School's just been overwhelming, and my first GCE papers are coming up soon. Still, for all you guys that've been reading and favouriting, THANK YOU and here's the next instalment of Turk Resolutions from me with love! (and no, I'm NOT becoming another Elena) I think it's too much Midsummer Night's Dream revision - I swear, she's sounding more and more like Helena, and Tseng, like Demetrius. Reno could be Puck…. Okay, I better stop here 'fore I recite the entire book.
But before you get sick of me and rush on however…
Warning: Some seriously bad parodies of real life situations and stores here. And watch out for the alliterations, yeah. They can bite quite badly, so I'd be careful if I were you. :) haha.
It was nearing ten PM in one of Midgar's better hospitals*. Usually, the place was bustling with people, notably distraught relatives, screaming kids, even more distraught nurses and harassed doctors. Not today. Thanks to the admittance of a certain Chief of Turks, the corridors were suddenly silent and bereft of movement, especially the lobby outside Tseng's room. Two hulking figures lurked just in front of his door, doing what they did best, which was to menace the public. One of them was bald and unarmed. However, the sunglasses and the suit told a whole different story: touch him, and die. He was Rude, Acting Commander of the Turks. To embellish the fearsome scowl, a teddy bear peeked out from his jacket pocket, a silly smile on its face. The other man was taller, sported a ponytail and was noticeably less bulky. But when people looked at him, all they saw was the gold claw where his left hand should have been, and the very obvious, three-barreled gun cocked in his right. He was the newest addition to the Turks, and his name was………….none other than Vincent Valentine.
Rufus looked at them, unimpressed, "Is that all we have? Two half-brained goons against the whole of Midgar?" Deprived of alcohol for six hours, he was feeling cranky. Also, it was the longest time he had been sober. Needless to say, he found it a trial.
Vincent glared. Scarcely two hours ago, Chaos had gotten tired of trying to evoke a response from a comatose Tseng and returned control of his body back to him. He had not been amused at all when he'd regained consciousness. Somehow, he had been conscripted into the Turks against his better knowledge. Again. I just //knew// eating that peppermint cookie** I found in the drawer was a bad idea. And passing out after that was an even worse one... "For your information, Rude might be a half-brained goon, but I'm older than you are. Plus, I have a gun. So have some respect. You actually have four active Turks right now. Elena is...reading in the ladies, I think. Reno is back at HQ cleaning up the basement."
Rufus sniffed. "What respect are you talking about? You're fifty. And senile."
"And you're a paranoid fatass miser." Vincent retorted. Technically, this was true, but as Rufus was still President, no one except Reno and Vincent had dared to mention this so far.
"You-" Rufus glared back, lost for words. He turned away huffily. "Get lost."
"Can't. I'm on sentry duty." The gunman grinned smugly.
"Then get on with it, and leave me alone! Or go get me a bottle of beer."
"No can do. This is a hospital, if you haven't realised - " Vincent smirked.
"Shut up before I decide my bathroom toilet needs a little redesigning, Turk. Your long hair would serve extremely nicely as a shower curtain."
Rude sighed as Vincent opened his mouth to shoot back a cutting reply at the President. He'd somehow known this was a bad idea from the very start. And speaking of which, ye gods, where was Elena?
Meanwhile, at COSMOSTROM'S, the equivalent of the Apocalypse was taking place…
Elena wandered down a shopping aisle in Midgar's largest departmental store, humming happily to herself along the way. In one hand she grasped a well-thumbed copy of 'Dress Your Man the way You Want Him'; in the other, she propelled an over-laden supermarket trolley nicked from the nearby 'ShinMart – Save the SHINRA way!'. Creaking in protest, it wobbled precariously to and fro, somehow managing to accurately pinpoint mannequins, shelves of glassware, price boards and clothes racks on its wildly weaving way through the store, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. There was a whimper of tortured steel as Elena tugged it impatiently to a halt, bending her head to consult the magazine again. For someone with the acute senses of a Turk, she didn't seem to notice the head of a decapacitated mannequin as it trundled past her left foot, a resigned expression on its normally vacuous, sheet-white face. Nor did she appear to be aware that save for her, several petrified mannequins, acres and acres of quivering shelves and a shell-shocked sales manager, the departmental store was completely deserted on a usually hectic Sunday.
Frowning, she pulled out her checklist again, scanning through the list of things she had planned to buy for Tseng. The list ran as thus:
Things to buy for my beloved Tsengy-wengy since we're an item now:
(He KISSED me!! HE KISSED ME!!! YESSYESSYESSYESS!!!)
Scented soap ( Lush Lavender and Sinfully Sensuous Silky Scentful Strawberries – just the thing to spice up his day! ) *
Kennel Call ties (PINK and TRAFFIC CONE ORANGE – oh, won't he look just CUTE!?)
A Swooner's Street Ernest toothbrush (since I stole his a couple of months ago – and anyway, I have a matching Bernice one!!! :D)
A shoal of Piranhas**** (He was muttering about a blonde stalker the other day who tried to get into his house the other day – WHO IS SHE!? HOW DARE SHE STALK MY TSENGI!?!? DOESN'T SHE KNOW I OWN HIM!?!?! Never mind, these'll settle the nosy, grabbing b%#&h!!! Hah! I'd like to see her try to sneak into his house the next time!)
A joint of beef (I've never actually cooked before, but just for the love of my life, I'll try to. Steak sounds just about right. I wonder if he'll like it rare or cooked? Anyway, it should be easy. Just stick it in to nuke, right?)*****
A pink digital photo frame (now he can look at me all day! We'll NEVER be apart!)
A yellow nightcap, personalized, with I 3 Tseng embroided in luminous purple thread (Now he can go to sleep without catching a cold!)
A cuddly chocobo with a record that will play 'Oh I Love You So' when hugged (Just an inspiration from Rude's Mr Snuffles. Of course, she'll be called Ms Laney and she won't be so dirty. Bet Tseng's gonna LOVE it!!!!)
A holster for Tseng's Beretta (The magazine says that some men like a feminine touch to go with their gifts… I rather think my Tseng is that poetic sort; I mean, he gives me that really deep look everytime I pass by, so here's a pansy-patterned one for him.) ******
The Century's Greatest Love Hits from East Livin'(VERY IMPORTANT!!!!)
Elena's eyes narrowed as she looked up. "Yes, that CD. How could I have forgotten? Tsengy-poo needs something to lighten up his day!"
She scanned her surroundings, realizing for the first time that the store was completely empty. "Anyone? I need help… I need to find a CD and… this store is an absolute mess!"
The sales manager couldn't help but choke back a terrified sob at the sound of Elena's voice. The female Turk whirled around, whipping out her best Hello-pleased-to-meet-you-could-you –please –do –this-for-me-NOW smile. "I heard you, you…. Well, I mean, I heard you. Yes, the thing huddling beneath last season's gowns. Look up, please. I need East Livin's Greatest Love Hits and you're gonna get it for me right NOW. Or else…" She paused for dramatic effect, smile slipping away into what she thought was a superior smirk. Enter Morticia, Queen of the Night People, though minus the black nails and hair, in one her most foul moods.
This was the last straw for the sales manager. After seeing his section demolished, the customers spooked and his dignity compromised, the crazy woman stranger's appearance put the icing on the cake. He keeled over with a muffled, "I want my Mummy!"
Elena gave an irate sigh. Why did people always have to faint when she spoke to them? She knew she was striking and carried such an aura, but really… And at such an inappropriate time too. She wanted badly to be there when Tseng woke up. Well, never mind, she'd get it somewhere else. She swung the trolley out through the broken glass doors of the COSMOSTROM, into the silent street. Behind her, the building wheezed once, and then collapsed in on itself, burying the unfortunate sales manager in a pile of rubble and cutlery. Don't ask why.
*Better didn't actually mean it was good. It just meant that the hospital was one of the few that actually had a roof. Rufus develops a mysterious deafness whenever the topic is raised at one of the Meet-the-People meetings.**
**Meet-the-People is actually conducted behind the safety 6m thick, reinforced bunker walls in case the populace lynches their illustrious President. Which they want to do - all the time. Often Rufus just sits there in an overstuffed armchair getting drunker than a skunk while outside, speakers declare the glories of the SHINRA empire to a horde of blood-crazed slum dwellers. Of course he's too busy. He's the President after all, and has more important things to do. Such is the burden of those who are born great.
***Tseng ABHORRED scented soaps. He had never gone a mile near them ever since Reno claimed the smell was worse than the Galian Beast's hairy toes and conveniently pushed him into a waste heap to 'get rid of that pong'.
****Tseng had spent the last few months painstakingly constructing a moat around his house, for some obscure reason. When the neighbours complained, they woke up in the morning to see a crocodile grinning back at them. Not surprisingly, the property prices had plunged, and the Turk commander now enjoys a greatly enlarged living space of fifty apartment units in his condominium.
*****The beef begs to differ.
****** Elena referred to her magazines with a religious deference that sane people normally reserved for their Bibles. Every word the bored editor flung out for the female readers to devour was the gospel truth. The magazines were never wrong. Even when they had published images of short-sleeved spring dresses in their winter issue by mistake. Elena faithfully bought and wore them to work despite being half-frozen by the time she reached the office.