Recent Statuses

3 days ago
Current Bread
18 days ago
Yeah baby it's lonely-boy sunday
28 days ago
I have been extremely inactive here. I need to find the time to do more stuff here : c
1 mo ago
I don't know, Ghost Note, I hear that spiders are preeeeeeeetty scary
2 mos ago
I've come back from like a month of absence form the site and there's some real status bar energy going on right now
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Most Recent Posts

@AlfhedilAh fug, I'm gonna have to drop out. Too much workload on me to be able to commit to RPG posting. Sorry boss : c
You know what.

Why not? Interested
Long time coming but here he is.


is accepted

Interacting with - @Conscripts

When the door slid open, he turned his head over to the beating rhythm of cane-foot-cane. He kept a straight expression for the duration of his arrival and introduction. Ah, the Board of Administration - at least one of them. Mr Ochisuita: a man of many straight lines and black ink splodges seen only by the keenest of eyes. Through and through, he had been one of the most interesting assets placed at the helm of the organisation, with his extremely direct connection to the very force they were tasked with countering. It was a risk, and a gamble, but men like Konno Mashai were eager to see where things went. Never tried, never learnt. And if he lost, he lost. It was how things were, and he'd come to peace with the lottery of life, politics, espionage and malpractice. It was important for a man who came out of nowhere, popularising the steadfast reconstruction of Japan back to its pre-2012 self, a nation with an identity.

As expected, Mr Ochisuita took a collected lead of the processions. Though Mashai ruled the Kingdom, this was the director's castle. And, most importantly, it was respectful to that of his fellow workmen and figures in the struggle against the Jinrai. Any cameraman would have slaughtered thousands to have seen the noir tension lift as soon as the door slid shit behind the director, and with the instruction to take a seat, the proceedings began as intended.

"Mr Ochisuita; it's wonderful to be able to meet on such short notice." As he moved to the seat, just before he placed himself upon the throne, he held out a stiff hand to be shaken with a half smile on his face. He followed with the usual formalities. "How's Anya?"

"We've just talked last night. She's doing great." Takeda answered, meeting the handshake with a firm grip from his other hand. "How about yours, Mr Prime Minister?"

"Please, Mr Mashai is more than enough. And she is doing well enough, though even after three years she still can't quite adjust to life in Tokyo. She hasn't quite enjoyed the looming threat but takes it each day with a smile." As the two separated their grips, he finally sat down in his seat and let his head tilt up toward the blackened ceiling. The polish of the room was much to admire and he did enjoy the astuteness of its pristine perfection. All perfect for the means of ensuring its members knew that a 'job-well done' meant flawlessness. "Mr Ochisuita, as I said, I am more than happy to have been able to meet you on this busy schedule but I think it's about time we get the simple matter out of the way first. Please, do update me on the routines of the NSF these last few months? Have we gotten any closer to finding any insurgent cell within our ranks?"

There was a brief silence as he reached into his suit-jacket and pulled out a small, aluminium flask, unscrewed its lid and doused his tongue in its bitter yet refreshing sustenance. It smelled rich, at least more than the average beverage, but nothing too extravagant. After all, what would a middle-man have without his middle-of-the-spectrum drink?

"Certainly." Takeda reached into his suit pocket in the meantime for the tablet. "Data is ready on the mainframe for viewing."

He cleared his throat as he waited for Mashai to be on the same page as him. "Our internal investigation yielded some results. There are some unrelated cases of corruption within the government here and there like insider trading or electoral manipulation, but the more interesting information unearthed is the man called Honda Iwanami."

Scrolling to the man in question, Takeda continued. "Interrogations yielded not only his affiliation with Jinrai figures, but also the fact that he also has links to a tech company called Ansoft. It's an American-based company with a track record of foreign interference for resources. We have yet to discover if this company is involved in providing the Jinrai with the equipment or intel to carry out their operations or not, including the coup. However, we also have identities of the Jinrai officials in charge as well. More information can be extracted from them if we proceed forward from here."

At the conclusion of his update, Konno looked studied the tablet and Honda Iwanami. It wasn't a name he was inherently familiar with, but the practices of of Jinrai affiliates to the outside world was something he'd expected, but not fully prepared for. And more so, the existence of Ansoft was something he had definitely known about. Their foreign activities weren't to his best knowledge but he knew that they spelled a great deal of trouble. The nationalists, ironically, outsourcing to gaining ammunition, weapons, equipment and potential enhancements pulled the heavier strategic and logistical advantage away from the NSF.

Konno frowned and leant back in his seat, pressing his fingers together just before his nose. It was a lot to take in, but it hadn't overwhelmed him. It further solidified the unfavoured myth some of the NSF operators held: the Jinrai were nothing more than ideologues that were driven by their fantasies over reason. And whilst he still considered them far too unreasonable to be welcomed in Japan, let alone NeoTokyo, seeing that untrue notion collapse further made a lot more sense. They wouldn't let their ultranationalist ways block them from their means to continue the fight. Victory was going to be achieved and by means that were both logistical, strategic and most importantly in favour of the public's perception. Despite the shadowy nature of the war, each faction had set in stone the pretences to if it went live in the mainstream world - and whoever was exposed would want and need all the cards they could play to win the love of the public.

"They are but caged rats, Mr Ochisuita. And like trapped rodents they'll take any handouts and deals they can with the outside world until they are strong enough to gnaw their way outside. I'll review your accepted means of squandering this in a moment." As he set aside the director's new and exciting piece of information, he reached into his own suit jacket and pulled out his own tablet. After fiddling for a second with the screen's slow start-up, he placed it on the table and waited for a short digital document to appear on-screen. He sat back in his chair and let it present itself.

"As for you, Mr Ochisuita, I'd like to bring forth a little bit of extra information." He took another swig from his flask and tucked it away back into his jacket, clearing his throat once it had cleared his tongue. Suddenly, a unceremonious woman, in her 30s, appeared on screen. Whilst the picture wasn't too flattering itself, it had clearly been taken from a series of off-side official documents, espionage reserves or paparazzi takes. "I'd like to introduce another individual to our scope. Michiko Sato, a relatively small official within my cabinet. She once tried her hand at ascending to Govenor of NeoTokyo, but hasn't seen too much success. Either way, she's been relatively under my radar until as of recent. She's disappeared from view, gone without a trace, as far as the police are aware."

Konno swiped through the tablet's presentation, bringing up a small corporate logo. It wasn't anything exciting nor was it anything infamous to the eyes of the NSF. Something with barely the notoriety to be recognised outside of those who dealt with such business models and products as they produced. Kizou Corp.

"See, a personal investigation by my security detail came across a lot of links to her involvement in Kizou Corp, a localised mid-grade corporation who deals in small-arms manufacturing and, as of recent, research into lightly armoured vehicles. Standard practice. As we investigated into the corporation, we have evidence heavily suggesting that one of their factories and warehouses has been supplying the Jinrai since 2029, mainly in ammunition and the occasional firearm that won't alter their product inventory too much. Ms. Sato has been making many encrypted phone calls with them, which we've yet to really uncover." With a long and arduous breath, he looked on to the director with a straight glare, showing that he was in fact serious with his next propositions.

"Mr Ochisuita - I'm granting you temporary special powers for these circumstances. I can forward over some more documents before I leave, but here this carefully. You, and the Board of Administrators, are to allocate reasonable resources into looking into what I present to you today, until you succeed or until something of greater importance shows itself - from this I hope you will also take action against the factory and ensure it isn't arming our adversaries. As for Ansoft, I'm willing to give you one chance at a 'strike' against them at an opportune moment. I suggest, greatly, that you catch them when meeting with the Jinrai as to lessen the impacts, but if no opportunity arises then I trust you will find ways to see into their influences and shut down their interests in the Jinrai to the best of your ability."

He paused, standing up from his seat and adjusting his suit jacket. He cleared his throat for a second time and stretched, retrieving the tablet from the desk and sliding it back into his pocket. For a short second, he smiled the same kind smile he did for his speeches, public rallies and broadcasted appearances. It wasn't one of deviance, but of an ounce of trust.

"Keep up the internal investigation. And let your subordinates know of what the NSF must do. I'll send over the same funding we always do, and maybe a small bonus from my own pocket," before he made his way outside of the door, he turned and smiled back at Takeda, "so long as you don't tell my wife."

Interacting with - @Lady Selune | @Smike

Upon returning to the base, there was a sickly smell of cleanliness. It didn't quite feel like the tender caressing of the hospital's freshened air, with open windows and a charming blossom-lit world just beyond the panes. Instead, it reeked of artificiality. He hadn't quite forgotten the sensation, but the smell's potency was far stronger than he'd registered for the last three years. He felt very much the same when he was first brought on board during the reconstruction and formation of the NSF. He couldn't quite tell if it was oxygen pumped into the building or vent after vent dragging the exterior world inside. Knowing their safety regulations, it was probably both. Either way, through that sick artificiality was also the stench of tobacco being smoked in the little designated zones, or the flavoured taste of other vapes. One user, closer than the rest, actually caught him mid-motion through the main hall.

At first glance, Takai barely recognised the foreigner. She clearly wasn't of native origins, something that he'd found a bit hard to accept for the longest while. Those concerns, however, were vaporised by the time his limbs were. But this one wasn't too recognisable. Her pale skin, blue hair was rather standout for the crowd, and a combination that really set her aside from her contemporaries around her. Yet her attire and presence told of a much greater individual, one among the rafters above that looked down on operators like himself. However, her understanding approach left a good impression on him.

"I appreciate the invitation. Someone told me to find assistance when needed so..." He drifted off for a moment, looking around at the large hall. He couldn't tell if anything had changed. A few small areas had been repainted and the previously broken side panel, about five metres away from the main entrance, had been repaired. After a short pause, he looked back at her. "So do you deal with the returning augs, then?"

"Not officially, no." Caitlyn would respond, idly clicking a button on the vapourizer in her hand. "But, well, it's my area of expertise," she offered a small smile, "and an area I have personal experience with." She gestured noncommittally below her waist.

Her workmanlike mannerisms helped ease any awkwardness that Takai would have faced. It was easy to work with, and helped reinforce that despite his absence there were still accommodating individuals who took their line of duty seriously, even if she had less personal stake in the matter. And as she beckoned his eyes to look below her waist, he imagined she had hinted towards her own covered up replacements. There was no shame behind it, at least on the surface. Takai held his own self-hatred towards his own, but that was something for a more private conversation.

"Noted. Better you than a bureaucrat." He still wasn't too sure of who she was and how she fit into the system against the Jinrai, and so he steered his trust aside momentarily. With a lowered voice, he then propped the question about that which had plunged him into the temporary spotlight. "What was the fallout like here after the incident?"

"I wouldn't ask me." Caitlyn shook her head. "I'm not Japanese, so the rest of the Bs and As do their damndest to keep me out of the loop. Frustrating as all hell."

"I guess that was to be expected." He felt his eyes drift off around the room a bit more. At the least, she seemed honest about her answer and with the flow of information he'd expected anyone except the highest authorities to be floundered by the internal crisis. Takai had squandered a lot of his hope in the politically chaotic climate he'd found himself at the frontlines of. Bombs, raids and investigations had found the members of the NSF's Central Command on the verge of being stretched thin in Tokyo alone, whilst the Jinrai competitors would've certainly held operating posts beyond the neon metropolis. And with it, there was little information on how the Jinrai fully staffed its leading figures. Many deserters had either come empty handed with information, shown great stubbornness in unveiling any intel or offed themselves at the first sign of capture. He was suddenly taken out of his strategic muse when she spoke again.

"Ah. My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. Caitlyn Ellesworth, formerly of the FBI. Now I'm a squad support manager."

"FBI?" Takai staggered back into the conversation. "I was aware that there had been a select few foreign collaborators but I'd never thought it'd be to this posting." He began to extend his hand, but retracted it when he saw that it was his own cybernetic one. Instead, he swapped out the greeting with his surviving arm. "The pleasure is mine. I'll stop by your office at some point to discuss the means of my schedule and returning work pattern."

"As far as I'm aware it wasn't; I think they dumped me into B. I was higher ranked back in the States." She didn't let any more emotion seep into her face, but when he drew his hand back she shook her head. "Use the replacement. Makes it feel more like you."

"I'll use it when it proves that it won't endanger me in the field." A shallow disdain sprouted from his downpoured lips. He looked to the left, and then to the right, before letting his hand drop at the failure to connect the handshake. He knew that his reluctance would've been a disappointment, if part and parcel to the process of true recovery, but Takai's loathing ferocity towards his unnatural limbs proved only to be an enhancement of his guilty, shame and trauma left from that fateful explosion. Before anything else could be said, he saw a familiar face begin to push through the crowds, drifting toward him as some sort of awkward husk in a sea of busied bodies. He flashed a glance back at Caitlyn and respectfully nodded at his superior by rank, age and external experience. "Excuse me."

With his attention now drawn towards the long-awaited reunification with Kaz, the woman who'd been there when it had happened, he moved relatively slowly as she beelined straight for him. In her eyes there was, for lack of a better term, a strong absence of anything and everything. She walked with prowess and exhumed it with her figure. Even though it had been three months, he still found himself a little surprised at how much raw power she really showcased. And when she sauntered over, he was glad that it was from the perspective of an ally than that of an adversary.

"Hello Takai, glad to see you moving around again." Straight to the point, as ever? The sentiment was more than flattering at least. Surely, her Japanese had improved quite a bit and her accent had faded a little more than last time. The quick extension of her hand, accompanied by the dead-panned stare that she couldn't shake off, left him hanging on returning the gesture. And, just like with Caitlyn, he moved into the shake with his real limb. Flesh met flesh, and he'd finally returned the greeting.

"More or less." He paused. For once, he'd taken notice of his much more...well, reserved personality. He wasn't as quick to the conversation, speaking with a lot more emotion and tone as he'd once had, but kept himself steady and sturdy in presentation. Perhaps it wasn't just his appearance that had gone through a transformation. Maybe it was the haircut... "Glad to see you're still yourself."

"Good to hear. Didn't know if you were coming back or not." The bear in human form cracked her knuckles with a lazy grunt, shifting in place as if agitated by flies. "I tried to get a letter to you but I didn't know if it went through." She smiled grimly at the mention of her unchanged personality. "Yes. Very fortunate."

"I got the letters." He nodded up to her. Really, Takai had taken more of a reality strike in those short few sentences about his social circle. It was minimal - broken, even - outside of the professional relationship he held with Iha and Miho. On the verge of that realisation, he let out a very faint smile, reciprocating her grim one. "I...was very glad to have them. I got a good few covert ones from members of staff. Very formal. Yours was...a nice change of voice."

Stuck in the little realm of thought, he looked back at her. Up close, he felt a little less caught in her imposing glance than from a distance or on approach. It was something to warm up to. She had his back when she could during the explosion and, whilst she couldn't save him from the blast, she'd assisted her rescuers to her ability. And, all things considered, he's suspected that she'd stayed relatively out of dodge from the watchful eyes of her superiors, seeing that her vulnerability in the field at that specific moment could not have boded well for any traitorous intent. At least at in that moment. There wasn't a day going by where a black-mirror glass didn't profile each operator without their consent.

"How've you been keeping?"

Kaz blinked once at the confirmation, mulling over her words as she was wont to do. "That's good then. I assumed that all your mail was just going to be blacked out before it got to you." The cigarette dropped from her mouth and was stomped out beneath her heel, ground away into a useless powder without care for regulation or custom. "Same as usual. I'm either angry or sad or just stuck existing."

"Well..." Looking off to the side, he saw Caitlyn making her way over. She seemed fixed on the much larger woman than she did himself, and he immediately took it to himself to give them the space to talk. The last thing he needed to do upon arrival was flutter around hopelessly until something would happen. Until then, he was in a tight social spot. "We can keep it that way. Things aren't going to be good here, I feel."

And just as Caitlyn closed in on Kaz, Takai had left the scene with relative silence. He didn't really look that invested emotionally in anything. A strong negligence for his previous energy had fallen flat in the midst of the new world, new month and new body. He took the plunge further into the facility, following throughout the halls and labyrinthian design until he ended up somewhere else. An armoury, he thought? Somewhere where lockers were, but nothing like a changing room. It was relatively empty, save for a few operators of either gender and status. Seemed like a place where people equipped their gear and did self-maintenance on it. There were always rooms he'd never been in. The facility expanded on good occasion. And the three years he'd spent serving the NSF had left him sick at how deep the facility ran. He wasn't sure if anyone else there knew him, or even cared to do so, so he sat down on the bench and took off his jacket, awkwardly taking the shallow corner to pretend to inspect his arm. In reality, he wanted to rip it off. But what good would that do?

I'm gonna be accepting this badboy. Love it

The Camp - Interacting with @Polaris North

He shrugged at the comment about the Knights. Reputation aside, there was so much confusion around them that the gravity of the situation hadn't really settled in for any of them. Those used to the cruelty of the world, like the experienced stature of the Orc and his faint words, were quick to set their priorities into motion. Hjadana was more or less understanding of their confusion, as he was too himself. The camp was a mess, however, and a much needed direction was yet to be cast upon the adventurers, knights and survivors of the apocalyptic purge. He waved his hand in the air to waft away the deadened silence between him and the orc, who identified himself as Azgrul in conversation with the merchant. Truthfully, the half-elf wasn't that interested until he heard a very homely keyword leak from his low-toned lips.

"A Slayer?" Taken slightly aback by the revelation, he whispered only to himself. To see such a figure from his homeland, one in which he held a little resentment for in partiality to their role in Ludrix Nacht's successful rebellion and rise to power, a move which ultimately broke apart his family livestock. His expression drowned itself for a second before he recomposed himself back to the chipper-tune, keeping his own personal history on the side. "Couldn't get away from the blasted past, could we?"

When Azgrul's attention was finally drawn away from the merchant, he quickly silenced himself and returned to the happy-go-lucky attitude he'd shown so far. Spectating the bustle of the knights held much to be desired, but their position had already been thought of previously. Azgrul's judgement wasn't from a place of falsehood yet it carried the heart of a survivor over one who'd lived a different life. He waited for him to be back by his side before he chimed in on the manner.

"Their minds may be in the wrong place but this seems very out of proportion to what a mere knight might seem accustomed to, now wouldn't you say?" He began with a soft-yet-suave tone, letting his words flow fluently like a river. During his talk, he continued to twirl the stick between his fingers. "We can't all be survivalists. Give them a day, and they'll be back in their places, maybe. If not, then doomed-be-them, for they're failing their duties. A duty which, might I add, is not under our supposed call to arms, is it?"

The tap to his shoulder came at a quiet surprise. The gesture towards the sudden appearance of the King caught him off guard rather quickly. He dropped the stick, losing his flow on the dexterous twirl, and frowned to himself at the slip up. In turn, he followed Azgrul's hand toward the great figure. Surely enough, he looked almost as he'd expected. There was an ounce and a half of honour running through his veins, and his appearance amongst the people, as well as his patience, spoke volumes of their employer. A matter of circumstance seemed to have placed Hjadana in the right spot for the right line of work, lest he were continue to wander alone and asunder from his home and people.

"Well, oh well, this is sure to be interesting." Quick to pay attention, he put the image of the elven girl to the side, though it still lingered. Someone of such relevance to himself had caught him under the umbrella of interest, but he dared not to speak a word of such thoughts until he was sure of where they were headed.


It was a grim, dark Wednesday afternoon. Two o'clock, not much activity on all fronts. The heavy rainfall had just come around three hours prior. A greyscale palette coated the city streets whilst the neon lights, great towers and car headlights forced their way through the emotionless day. From beyond the shadowed car window, there was a sick stench from the midnight market stalls and dazzling light-show convenience stores all combining into one foul aroma. Measly flashes of dark alleyway dealings, bustled crowds and the odd corporate get-together littered each corner street the vehicle passed through. It was the same synthesised presentation the city had latched on to since its inception. There was little tradition at first glance as the new neo-modern era had just grown out of its infancy. It had been quite a while since he'd taken in most of the city's sights as the last months had restricted him to the local area of the recovery centre, with very little variety other than the quieter regions of the metropolis. Takai sighed and placed his head back against the passenger's headrest. It was probably the most uncomfortable thing he'd leant against, and he sure did miss the coddled security of the medical facility.

One had a lot to ponder over. There hadn't been much news from the National Security Force since his untimely incapacitation and news on the raids, inner-circle and operations had to have been reserved only to those within its walls. Loose lips sink ships, after all. Out of the loop, and out of the picture, he felt like an outcast. The new metallic replacements to his body weren't anything other than a detriment to his identity. And to go down the roads and streets of NeoTokyo, riddled with a strange disturbance to it all, assured him that he'd just returned to reality from his privately owned utopia.

Then again, he felt a strangeness to finally being called upon as 'Takai'. He had grown as used to his alter-ego, Yōta Akimoto, as much as he had learned to hate it. He wasn't going to miss having a day go by when the alias shared with an ex-footballer would be brought up, where he'd pretend to laugh it off in docile small-talk. Saying that though, he couldn't fault the medical staff the NSF had given him. They were kind and caring, something he clearly hadn't been used to. And the accompanying figure of Doctor Miho Yamada, who was currently sat in the car with him, reminded him of where his true roots were planted. They made the arduous process of rapid "recovery" and rehabilitation worthwhile, for the small part. And the odd letter, encrypted with permission from NSF Staff, made for a brief reminder that he was someone other than Yōta. Still, with the NSF facilitated coverup story in place, it was a matter of just waiting.

He grew less hopeful of his return. At least two operations would have taken place since his brutish separation from his unaugmented state. He'd cut his hair and looked almost like a different man, with the shorter and far sterner appearance. There had been a reinforcement placed in his facial mounting port for the PHUD, and the most notable changes in his forearm and leg were difficult to ignore, even if he'd covered them up with clothing.

The car ride had been very quiet. Neither the driver nor the two passengers had made any attempts at conversation up until they reached the final stretch. A long, prestigious alleyway leading up to the governmental parking allotment, which was ultimately one of the few routes to the NSF's main headquarters. Recognising the street, Takai readjusted his composer and sat up straight.

"How're you feeling now?" Breaking the silence, Miho spoke over her silent workings - and she drowned out the tapping of her fingers against her notepad. "Stressed? Worried?"

"On edge, to be honest." He spoke with a moderate stiffness to his tone. His voice, both reserved and composed, mirrored the clear-cut examination conversations he'd shared with Miho over the previous months, and he found it ever the more difficult to break out of that strictly professional barrier. "A lot may have changed in three months, and I am unsure if I am ready to partake in that shift."

"Well, you're right in that things will have changed, but I wouldn't call it unrecognisable. Just take your time and figure out how you want to ease back into this. You won't be placed on any D.A.Ds anytime soon, so you should be able to ease back into this." In reference to the Direct Assault Duties, he eased off a little. Going straight back into the assaulting scene was the last thing he needed. Having a few test-runs on investigations at least gave him the chance to prove he was mentally and physically fit to return to active service. Miho closed her datapad and turned her gaze to Takai, who's eyes were still fixated on the outside world. Just beyond his window, the shadow of the parking lot crept in and the light of the rain-fed day faded in an instant. She placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry. We've practiced this. And you're not completely alone. I've fully integrated into the organisation, and you still have the aforementioned allies. Kaz, and Iha too. They're still alive and well, so it seems."

Takai gave her a nod of affirmation, but went back to watching the outside world drift by. The rain no longer danced against his window pane and the cold interior of the parking lot became little more than a tedious performance. He looked away and finally turned to his medical director.

"What's on the agenda today? I'll need to know where I can make myself most useful."

"Oh, well, I'm not sure today completely. There's a meeting happening on the higher levels, not sure about what. I know there's an analysis on a small component recovered during a raid a couple of nights before, but that's really up for the engineers. Maybe there's a director of sorts you could reaffirm your return with? Friends as well? Don't rush into these things."

"Right, I'm sorry." He watched as the car twisted down the tunnels and bypassed the many checkpoints laid out for them. Seeing as they had taken one of the more exposed yet heavily armoured entrances, it took up to an additional ten minutes to get through each guard post, each posed as part of a regular governing body located nearby. In time, they reached the main facility, and the car pulled to a halt. Without a word, Takai opened the door, but was stopped by Miho's voice.

"Take it easy today. You're a new man with a dirty piece of slate to write on. Don't rush the cleaning process and keep yourself tempered. You'll be given an investigation soon enough when the time comes, and by then you'll be ready. Do you understand?"

The patronising professionalism soon began to irk him the wrong way, but he brushed it off with a slight smirk. Of course he knew, and she knew that as well, but the chances of him running off and trying to get back into what he did before were still quite high, even if that place held the very source of his trauma.

"I understand." Miho smiled and nodded to herself, congratulating on the final step of her jobline's phase. Finally, she'd given Takai the steps to reintegrate back into the NSF, and with that had completed the most time-consuming part of her assignment. Her placement laid in the medical facilities of the NSF's main headquarters, and so she stayed in the vehicle and let was carried away when it drove off. Takai stood in place for a moment, lugging around a small rucksack filled with a few personal bits and pieces that hadn't already been transported back to the NSF's lockers. And with everything seemingly in place, he walked into the main hall of the NSF, unsure of what he'd meet when he first re-entered the arduous shadow conflict.


With fourteen armed personnel by his side, he wandered through the hallways of the deepest levels of the facility. He looked around at the decorations hung on the metallic and concrete walls. Photos, paintings and framed works of previous short-lived programmes created of similar purposes. The past minister, even one for himself, and traditional art works handpicked by the leader himself. He smiled as he admired their strokes and embraced their presence with curled lips. One of the nearby lights flickered and he pointed to it, watching as another man noted down its little fault quickly. They were meagre things to take note of, but he liked to be thorough. After all, these were the greatest depths of the National Security Force. It would be uncouth to let it fall apart by ignoring the concerns of perfectionism.

He entered a small room, where the secretary leading the way opened the door for him and showed him to a large, LED-lit desk. He smiled to himself and gladly walked in, with most of the security detachment following in closely. Tapping his fingers against the surface, he found the least comfortable seat and gently placed himself down upon it, before nodding quietly to the secretary. She smiled back at him and gave him a graceful welcoming.

"Thank you for the wait, Mr Mashai, one of our Board of Directors will be here to meet with you shortly."
@Smike Also going to be accepting Dai too!
@13org@Landaus Five-One Aight, I'm going to be accepting these three!
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