[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/201218/8e5a368a67c3a5098f9e76fe5fe87a15.png[/img][/center][hr] 11AM Wednesday. The clock stroke top, the middle-aged gentleman, almost alone in the corner of the floor, stood up from the workout machine. The former Jinrai agent let out a puff as he wiped the sweat from his face and the chair he sat on just moments ago, picked up his cane and headed off for a shower. It was just another day everyday for the last 25 or so year of his life. Once his gun is in his holster, regardless of rain or snow, without fail, Takeda would be at a gym around the city, one different location each day. Seeing the lack of activity around the the gym, he mourned the state of mind people were put into. Way before the nuke ordeal, the fact that the people are so fixated with the next shiny thing that came out of this neo-modernist society that they neglected their own physical maintenance was worth a sigh. If he was going to be honest, it wasn't his office where the tough problems met its solution keys, it was here in these workout benches, the treadmill, the weights. Not only it kept him in top shape, it cleared his thoughts and allowed only the best and the ingenuity to shine through. After the shower, Takeda made his way back to his apartment to have his meal. Ingredients were already bought fresh earlier in the morning. His clothes already prepared the night before. Everything went according to schedules by the minutes. Twelve thirty in the afternoon. Takeda got ready, putting on a new uniform. From today onward, it's going to be Director Takeda Ochisuita of the NSF. It still felt a little strange to him he would bear that title, belonging to that institution, given his history. But this is a rocky time. Political instability is just getting fanned by lunatics on every single side of the political institution. Left, right, centre, up, down, reverse, everywhere's the same. Only those poor bloke in the corner of the street with a syringe or the cigarette is the most spared from the crossfire. Perhaps they aren't so poor after all? But nevertheless, the newly promoted Board of Directors knew for certain that given what is projected, he could not afford to not care. The drive to his workplace was quite arduous. After his arrival, Takeda could see those new faces, some of whom he did know, some would be under his supervision, but his priority of the moment were not them. He was to meet with the Prime Minister. A formal meeting request, Takeda already knew long ago from the moment he was onboard that this was his doing. But for this moderate and publicly genuine prime minister, the director was somewhat amused he would be willing to swing this dagger in the night. He went off into another hallway, where he would be accompanied by the standing guards the moment they cleared authorization to the room where he was told his host was waiting for him. Normally, the guards would be the middleman to confirm his identity, but Takeda already went ahead as he knocked on the door twice with his cane. [color=Red]"Board of Director Ochisuita."[/color] He declared himself A moment passed before he was let in. The door slid open as Takeda made his way into the room, his cane before his right leg in that awkward walking pose that those without the knowledge would find. He stopped a distance away from the Prime Minister's desk, his eyes trailing across the room before landing firmly on the man he was eager to meet. [color=Red]"You probably want that sofa over there for our talk Mr Prime Minister. And I'll take the same one on the opposite."[/color] [@LetMeDoStuff]