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 Chause Ovalstocke | The Cypheria League | Blacks | Chapter I

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Yggdrasil
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Posts : 22
Join date : 2011-06-18
Age : 25
Location : USA

PostSubject: Chause Ovalstocke | The Cypheria League | Blacks | Chapter I   Tue Jul 03, 2018 2:39 pm

The cushioned seats in the executive office suit my ass well, as do these high thread count duds. They keep telling me to take my feet off the table but what are they doing to do, fire me? After working so hard to get me in this position? Pft. I’m not going anywhere.
Duds. What a dorky synonym for this pretentious attire. Pretentious. Attire. Kind of an oxymoron, don’t you think? I sat in the dimly-lit room occasionally illuminated by spotlights and beams of light coming from the patrolling helicopter through the slightly opened blinds. The fluttering of the helicopter blades soothed my tinnitus, and was a sound to which I had become accustomed.
“Boy, if you don’t-“ A hand swiped my feet off the polished wooden table. I looked up from my tablet and gave a devilish grin disguised with a pseudo-confused shrug. Sergei slid his leather gloves off and slapped them onto the table. He pulled his chair out and gave me a look through his tinted eyeglasses.
“Don’t get too comfortable. I never said make yourself at home. You sleep a floor level beneath here” he grunted, his accent only surfacing a little. I’ve noticed it’s more prevalent when he’s aggravated or angry. I’ve never known the man nervous or scared during the short period I’ve known him.
“Where’d ya say you were from again?” I asked.
“None of your damn b-“
“I’m only asking ‘cause I wanna get ya a themed birthday present” I interrupted whilst grinning again.
“Now you’ll never know” he said, taking his glasses off only to rub the bridge of his nose.
“Luthgandt” I heard from behind me. I quickly swiveled my chair to see Laszlo entering the room with Silas, two more senior Cypherian Blacks. “He’s from Luthgandt. And as much as he sounds like he has a mouth full of peanut butter, we never saw a jar of it during our tour there”
Sergei took his glasses from the table and put them back on his nose and leaned back in his chair, ignoring the banter. He pulled out his tablet and started swiping away at emails and other business related notifications.
“So you’re the Siren reject” said Laszlo. I perked up and winced at him. “From recruit to MP in Bravo Company, you tried out to become a Siren, no?” he asked. I nodded. “And you failed, only to move on to Alpha Company, and then to the Para-Corps. Now here you are” he held out his hands, waving them about.
“What’s your point?” I asked. “I didn’t sign up to be mocked by some lanky redhead”
“No, but you couldn’t even make it as a Siren, so I have my doubts. I’ve heard you’re a helluva pilot though”
I scoffed and crossed my arms, looking to Sergei. He rolled his eyes and swiveled his chair even farther away from me. Ha. Some fraternity this branch is.
“So what are we to do with these… freedom fighters?” asked Silas as he placed his thumbnail between both rows of his teeth.
“I’m sure you meant the inbred invalids, seeing as it’s more fitting” answered Laszlo.
I had heard that they had just gotten back from a tour in Judhai, one of the most southern countries in the world, and under an oppressive dictatorship.
“The City-State of Cypheria can’t handle another terroristic faction like Northland” continued Laszlo.
“They’re nothing like NL, ” answered Silas. “Northland Liberation fights for selfish and foolish reasons, but also for the love of their homeland. This new faction’s main objective is to take down The Cypheria League.”
“Not to mention they all look like a bunch of jackasses” piped Laszlo. The braids beside his ears flipped as he held out his hands on either side of his head, imitating bunny ears. “Or should I say jackrabbits?”
“The hell are you talking about?” asked Sergei. He looked up from his tablet and frowned. Laszlo grabbed a bundled piece of fabric from his back pocket and tossed it on the table. Sergei poked at it with a pen before carefully picking it up. It slumped but you could tell it was a mask that resembled a rabbit as he held it by the ear. “Uhhh…?” he dragged out an inaudible response and tossed it back and stared at the wall puzzled.
“They’ve got engineers making their hydraulic leg modifications that allows them to jump all over the fucking place, just like rabbits. It still hasn’t been confirmed whether or not they’ve undergone biomechanical surgery but it’s likely” Laszlo started to circle the table. He stopped on the opposite end, spun the chair to face him, placed his knees on the seat, and rested his arms and chin on the top of the back rest. “which could mean the inclusion of HELIX.” He frowned mockingly and then spun his chair around one full time before slamming his hand on the table to stop himself. “How do you take care of a few rabbits in their little garden? Do you poison the crops?”
“No, you’ll get yourself sick for poisoning your own garden” Silas answered. Laszlo clicked his tongue and stuck a thumb up.
“Do you stop planting your crops?” he asked.
“Then you’ll starve” Silas answered again. Laszlo gave another confirmatory gesture with his hands. Silas snapped his fingers and sparked a flame from the tips of his index finger and thumb.
“Burn the garden?” Laszlo was almost snickering at this point.
“Wrong again” Silas stood up and extinguished the flame with his breath. “Next year’s harvest would only suffer with a scorched earth”. He placed his foot on the seat of a nearby chair and pointed at Laszlo. After a few seconds I noticed somewhat of a struggle coming from him as Silas was smiling. A few more seconds went by before Silas looked at me and grinned, holding his hand in place. At this point Laszlo was grasping at the back of the chair and clawing a little, leaving hardly noticeable marks on the leather. I glanced at Sergei. He furrowed his eyebrows and grimaced before turning back to the other two. He looked back at Silas and his eyes gleamed through his silver bangs and he released his grasp. Laszlo gasped a little and grabbed his throat with both hands before letting a slight smile surface. “You smother them” Silas finished.
“Bingo” Laszlo said with his returning breath.
Sergei chuckled. He stood up and walked out of the conference room.
“I guess… he’s in?” Laszlo said through his labored breathing.

I walked down the hall and turned left to the security door. I swiped my keycard and heard the whirring of the door before passing through. I figured it was faster to take these stairs than wait for the elevator, knowing we only have two elevators on this side for all 72 floors.
After turning the corner I was at my room. Room 16. I used my keycard again to open my door and was instantly greeted with… the smell of musky vacancy. It was obvious the room hadn’t been used in a long time and I was only in here long enough to get settled in a few days ago.
I loosened my tie, ripped it off my neck and tossed it onto my bed. It was only 6:30 PM but already pitch-black outside. This part of the world was odd for its climate. I also took off my suit jacket and put on a light zipped sweatshirt and pulled a cap down on my head. While unbuttoning the top two buttons on my collared shirt with my left hand I walked over to the window and pulled down the blinds with a couple fingers and was faintly illuminated by the cyan neon lights. Cypheria never sleeps, I thought. But that was one of its several charms, and one of its many downsides.
I rushed out of my dorm and shut the door behind me. I walked down the hall and to the elevator. I pulled out my keycard and swiped it at the elevator door. While waiting I looked up and down the crimson halls and basked in its prestige and vacancy. Either everyone was asleep or somewhere doing spy shit.
I joined so that I could travel and fly helicopters. I don’t want to become some pencil pusher here at headquarters, making lists of all the incidents that happen in the ghettos of Cypheria and of every reported suspicious character by every elderly resident in this city. Making a difference is cool and all, sure, but I want to see foreign places and meet strange people.
Ding.
Upon entering the elevator I was greeted by two Sirens. I kept my head low with the bill of my cap covering the greater portion of my face but coming from the upper levels it was obvious I was a Black, and who I was considering there wasn’t an awful lot of us. They stood there grinning with their arms crossed as I stepped past them with a grimace. They seemed to tower over me in height, another feat I lacked and another indicator as to why I was never accepted into their ranks.
They muttered on about their jobs. Some objective here, targets there, etc. etc. They appeared to be recruits; D Class in fact, so nothing out of the ordinary and quite frankly nothing to really boast about. I kept to myself and stared at the floor. One of the Siren's swords nearly reached it.
I kept my head down as we passed each floor. I took out my COM and thumbed it.





UNFINISHED STUFF
I looked over all the Blacks in the conference room. It wasn’t our entire roster, as soon were in other cities and other continents on missions.
Cecilia. Most Blacks don’t have their surnames on record, but Cecilia JuRa started in the paramilitary like me. Her auburn bob made her pretty recognizable here at headquarters. Swift with a katana and light on her feet.
Summer. Taller than Cecilia JuRa, and leaner than Cecilia JuRa. Summer Falthrot is an ex-Siren but her expertise in weaponry and physical capabilities show otherwise, as if she still ran the show in the Siren ranks. Her strawberry blonde “drapey” hair is usually fashioned into a messy bun with her braided side fringes dropping to her shoulders.
Anibal. Anibal What’s-His-Name who was hired on directly. Hell of a sniper from what I’ve heard and it’s been said that he has some Yldirian in him which would explain his height and proficiency with Siels.
Eistone. Another direct hire. Short salt and pepper hair, athletic build, medium height, master of pugilism, and nothing less than a lady’s man. And a fucking tool.
Linus. A cocky blond rich boy from Odessa.
Zellie.
Angelo.
Sergei. Another pugilist and a close colleague of mine. He stood there with his shiny bald head and
Laszlo. He’s the branch’s infamous loudmouth, but is known for taking his work seriously when needed.
Silas. Obviously half-Yldirian. He lacks in height, but makes up for it with his profession in Siel usage. Silver hairs shines through his otherwise ashy blond curtained hair that sits atop his well-postured shoulders.
Ulrich. A real asshole from Gallowhund.
And lastly, Faustis, our director.
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Chause Ovalstocke | The Cypheria League | Blacks | Chapter I
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