turkpile 2 electric boogaloo

[beenhad]

[ This is an All Hands On Deck situation. All doubles, doppelgangers, and clones are paged to attend. Balcony Reno, Door Rude, whoever Sidewinder fucking is, let's go. Any strays picked up along the way? Welcome to the family bitch, move your ass. Doesn't even matter if you're fresh off the cliff, get to stepping. This is a situation.

Tseng is back today, with the president. Oh, what's that? Didn't know Tseng and the president went anywhere? Yeah, fucking obviously. But three of you chucklefucks were responsible here, and Tseng is going to find out which it was. B3's on complete lockdown. No one's leaving until everything has been figured out.

You'll have a lot of downtime today. Sorry, them's the breaks. Each of you are getting new files. New codenames. New devices. Independent digital signatures. Whatever the fuck Goin' Back To My Roots Reno is doing with the snakes. Order is going to be fucking restored. And then Tseng is ordering everyone Chipotle. No, you don't get a menu; he already knows what every one of you like. You're welcome you goddamned love of his life idiots.

Anyway, all that to say lolol Turk mingle post with dupes. Break out ur fckn clone journals. ]

Comments

THE CHIEF — OTA

[beenhad]

[ Say hello to the new boss, same as the old boss. It's inevitable that you will end up here, the vast expanse of his desk like a bulwark between you, pinned beneath eyes that have seen a lot more than most.

He's different from the others. There's a touch of age and wisdom that does not look like it set in naturally. Bandages cover his face and wrap around his forehead. When he walks, there's a particular care, as if he is compensating for the pain of it. But he's still here. He has no choice not to be.

Every one of his men need to be documented and accounted for if he is to do anything worthwhile here. No matter how many mirror images he sees, his interest in all of them is genuine, as if they are the only one he knows. He greets each one with a familiarity—warm, for Tseng, but still just as firmly professional as ever. He waits for them to sit down before he does so, offering the respect and humility that he knows he is due, being so late to the game. ]

I just have a few questions. You are more than welcome to the same.

[electroburst]

[ Reno makes the rounds before he reports in. There are particular priorities in place, and they revolve almost entirely around the President and seeing to this fucking bunch of bullshit that managed to dick itself into a pretzel-shaped stunning display of incompetence. Also, eating some actual real food and drinking some actual real coffee ohhhhh he just had this two days ago in realtime but in his dreams, two years! Fuck! Eggs! Yeah!!! Anyone got any fries!?!?!

Oh yeah right, work stuff.

Anyway, is his tenure as The Boss up? Good. Thank god. He's seen enough. Not just from the extra helping of timefuckery he just lived through to help elucidate for him just how thankless and stupid this job actually is, but also, see paragraph 1 regarding the pretzel-shaped stunning display of competence, et al. Tseng can have it. As long as it isn't the same Tseng that he's feeling warm and fuzzy in his heart about seeing ride off on a chomel into the sunset, he'll live.

Reno goes to the lavatory to wash the sand off his everything and change out of his fatigues, into a uniform. He pulls his hair back again, but with a clip instead of an elastic. Oooo, it's symbolic. Then he goes to the place where he's been storing all his information, ferreted away from the eyes and ears that know him all too well on a for-now basis until he could uproot everything and make his own systems, which he guesses he doesn't need to bother with anymore, thank god. Everything he's compiled is one jump drive and several folders, and these he brings to Busted Tseng (Hognose) only because he needs an excuse to show the fuck up, and not because he actually cares about handing them over. Tseng would've gotten them all on his own in a hot motherfuckin' minute anyway. ]

Heeere ya go. Now don't say I don't ever do anything around here, 'cause after this, that clearly doesn't amount to shit. Have fun.

MUTHAFUCKIN OG RUDE — OTA

[papi]

[ Rude doesn't know what to do with himself. It's pretty obvious to anyone who's looking. There's... a lot of him. More than enough to get the job done. Could've just shoved that Sector 7 pillar over with all these guys and saved Reno the trouble back in the day. Funny how whacky shit works out like that.

On top of that, nothing quite makes sense the way it's supposed to. Like looking at yourself in one of those funhouse mirrors over at the Saucer—something's off. Recognizable, but the shape's all wrong. He loves a thrill much as the next guy (more than the next guy), but this isn't like that. Insidious, he decides. Slow and creeping. Like a venom that doesn't pain you til the very end.

He keeps to himself, arms folded, leaned into a solid strobe of shadows in the corner. Takes in the things people say around him. Offers none of his own. His head hurts almost as much as his feet, but he refuses to sit down or do anything but look like a gargoyle at the far end of the hall, crouched and waiting. Don't know what he's waiting for. Just senses it, like a bad smell. ]

[yolked]

[Ah, there's the room.

Gloria was a peach, and didn't imagine it would be this easy to walk right into a gathering of Turks, but he's used to being around dangerous men. Wall Market is just like that. Midgar is almost tame in comparison. Mostly respectable people, no prostitutes, hosts, or aspiring strippers crowding the streets in the daylight. It's almost nice.

Once he's inside the meeting room he beelines to the corner for the first Rude to catch his eye. He hasn't realized yet that there are more than one of him, but he grabs him by the bicep to get his attention, familiar enough with his body from having to design that outfit for him that he's not even being complimentary in his contact. Perhaps a little bit pleading, though.]

You won't answer your phone, and I need you to handle something for me. You owe me.

[Andi turns his back to the rest of the room for about as much privacy as they'll get with a room full of guys like him who were trained to gather intel from across a room.]

There's this kid that keeps coming by, leaving gifts, he won't get the hint. Do something about it, and I'll consider your debt paid, honey.

[goons]

[Rude enters the room for the meeting five minutes early. Before the briefing starts officially he wants to secure his plate and find an optimal location in which to both enjoy the free Chipotle and keep eyes on all the doppelgangers that he thinks he trusts but isn't sure how much.

He's about to take the ideal spot in the corner of the room only to find there's someone else there. And surprise surprise, it's him. Maybe he should have showed up a little earlier, then he would be the one eyeing everyone all hawklike. Instead he's just awkwardly standing there next to him. Rude can't displace him, and he's sure every other corner of the room is occupied by other versions of themselves that had thought ahead.

All he can do now is lean against the wall and over a bite of his burrito bowl. Don't be a bitch about germs, they probably already have the same bugs anyway.]

Have we met?

REMAKE->ACC RENO / ota

[electroburst]

[ The plate fell. The cliffs claimed them all. He bled out on the floor of the bar. He watched Tseng die—made him die faster, in fact. He tore through everyone and everything he loves in a whirlwind of grief and confusion until the only constant left in his head was fear that their reckoning had come now, much earlier than they'd accounted for, and he wasn't ready. Then Tseng made him the boss. The Gardens crashed. He went to the desert to do recon. Left Rude in charge of the President and locked down the whole place tight. Got a bit sidetracked in the sand, sat up next to the fire with his sword and a peyote and a muddled up head. Slept like a baby that night.

And had a crazy, crazy dream. The whispering forces that have this world under their control said enough's enough and sent him back to do a little growing up, you see, and he wakes up the next morning utterly changed and yet utterly not at all. Physically, he isn't any different than he was before he dreamed of two years into the future, just like Rufus foretold: reckoning. Meteor, Sephiroth, Geostigma, Edge, Remnants, healing rain. He gets up from the fireside and takes off in search of the boss, who should be right where he fucking left him, because that is his primary objective.

Oh, god, if his head was messed up and confused before, it's both infinitely better and more of a shitstorm now than it ever was.

When he gets there, Tseng has beaten him to the punch, because of course he has. He recognizes a Tseng from the time that is his time instantly, but then is confused, and it probably shows. He looks a damn mess showing up dusted over with dirt and sand, his hair worn down and loose, as is the tradition of a man in charge of the Turks, a sword strapped to his back in place of his his standard boomstick, dressed in the sort of getup you'd expect someone who just went dirtbiking across the desert to investigate an alien enemy base to be wearing, tan fatigues in place of a black suit. This is not the scene he was expecting to find. For one thing, Midgar is still in one piece. But wait, of course it is. He still remembers everything up 'til his Big Sleep, even if remembers is stretching his belief system to its limits at this point in time.

Oh, hell. He's making some coffee first thing. Fuck y'all. ]

[redlines]

<sub>[Roche notices the dirtbike back in the garage first thing in the morning. When Reno had come looking for something to take him into the desert, he didn't ask questions. All he did was dangle the keys above his head and only relinquished them for a kiss, a laugh, and a half-playful promise to "drive safe." Safe for whom? Nobody really knows. All it means in Roche's mind is don't wind up dead in a damn ditch. Part of him had even been tempted to take off after him on Delilah, but he had other business to attend to that same day.

Business that quickly went south. Thanks, Rufus. Next time, he's not letting you out of his damn sight.

He doesn't actually head downstairs until after he pushes the sand-caked bike into one of the bays. It's technically not his job to do inspections this week, but fuck it. It's something to do later, and he doesn't quite trust anyone else to not half-ass it. One quick trip upstairs to the cafeteria, and Roche finally takes the elevator as low as it'll let him. One of these days he ought to badger someone for clearance the rest of the way, but until he does that? It's the stairs.

He hasn't forgotten Gloria, either. During the time everyone else was gone, Roche made it a point to at least find out what sort of coffee she liked upstairs. One of the two coffees he'd brought down with him was for her, and... huh, just like that, she waves him in. One time, Sassy Buns. One time works just fine. Knocking twice on the doorframe, Roche pokes his head into the room, spots Reno - cripes he looks like he's seen better days - and whistles softly as he steps in. Coffee in one hand, and a styrofoam box in the other.]</sub>

Breakfast, courtesy of the boys upstairs.

I DO WHAT I WANT

[goons]

Your biker boyfriend tried to kiss me. Why?

[And succeeded, tbh.]

an og tseng that isn't sidewinder / ota

[improprieties]

[ see tseng. see tseng lurk. lurk, tseng, lurk.

as he has done for like four months. you want to talk about being cut loose? how about being literally cut loose with a sword through your everything, then waking up and catching wind of all this bullshit? he has not touched this with a thirty foot pole because he has not needed to. there have been enough irons in the fire. but suppose, if you will, who has ensured that all of the background processes are running as smoothly as possible, that the constantly fluctuating networks have remained stable, and that their beloved president never runs out of caviar?

this bitch, that's who.

today he breaks ranks with his shadows only because of two things: because he can take the stairs without grimacing as he walks, and because he recognizes the turn of a revolution when he sees one. he has found a seat where he can be at least partially obscured in the one fluorescent bulb in this room that hasn't been changed since it burned out a week and a half ago (he has called maintenance no less than fourteen times, for fuck's sake, does no one do anything around here?) to enjoy his burrito bowl (nothing but leafs, beans, and soy chorizo). "enjoy" done with a rather severe look on his face, but still. ]

[reeno]

[It's a little strange walking in late to the meeting room where everyone's seated and already started eating. There are more familiar faces than he's ever seen one room in his life. Reno's not really as weirded out by it all as he should be. It's like walking down the line at an ass buffet trying to pick which Rude to cozy up to.

Actually.

Why not change things up a bit? This Tseng looks particularly ornery, so Reno sets himself down in one of the two available seats beside him, his own burrito bowl with a disappointing amount of carbs. Was rice too expensive? Who planned this? Where is Rufus? How many of him were there? They probably all escaped when the realized.]

Want to fill me in about what's going on? Been in hiding since I got here for the most part.

[ambitiousblond]

[Guess what Tseng, today is your lucky day and it just got a lot better -or worse, depending on your perspective- as Rufus just decides to plop down next to him. It had taken him a while to get a burrito -rip Kevin- and since Reno had taken off after making sure he was fed and taken care of (thanks for the coke), Rufus needed someone else to keep him company.

And that someone happened to just be Tseng who was just trying to enjoy his burrito bowl but since the other Turks were busy, it was his turn to have Rufus for company fr a bit. The severe look on Tseng's face doesn't deter him in the least- he's seen it far too often and while he knows what Tseng is capable of, he doesn't hesitate to make himself comfortable without asking permission to join him. It's not as if Tseng would leave him to his own devices after his latest escape so if anything, Rufus is being responsible by joining him instead of escaping the office.]

What did you get?

[And even though he still has some of his burrito left, he still leans over to just help himself to some of the chorizo since he's seen nothing like it and decides he wanted to try it.]

remake reno with acc icons . ota

[reeno]

[When he woke up on the hills the last thing he wanted to do was work, but after a few days he got unbelievably bored and tired of hiding in another Reno's cabinets while he was out.

It's funny how long he's been doing it, eating his leftovers, smoking his cigarettes. Part of him doesn't want to stop or make himself known, but also he misses sleeping in a real bed.

So he shows up to work with a shitload of coffees and makes rounds to see who he'll go home with for the night and then attempt to live on the couch of. Probably a Tseng or Rude. They seem cleaner.]

Can I just get a new name? Something cool like...uh Vegas?

[Take the coffees that no one ask for.]

[petitepistol]

[she leans in to take a gander at these coffees, pries off each lid to figure out which one is more her taste, and promptly wrinkles her nose at his suggestion]

Vegas? That sounds like you need a 10-gallon hat and spurs that you tried once but then promptly stopped using because you hurt yourself with them.

[no, no, he needs something perfect. taking a sip of that piping hot coffee, she considers it]

How about Beano? It's close to Reno.

ac rufs | ota

[ambitiousblond]

Rufus has had a chance to clean up and change when he and Tseng returned before reuniting with Dark Nation who had been spending some quality time with Roche.

But now he was in the Turk offices, sitting on the couch as he waited for Tseng to come to make sure he was alright as requested. He holds a back of ice to a swollen lip that was still sensitive. Still, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Gloria had been less than helpful when he had asked for coffee, only bringing him a bowl of coffee grounds and the coffeemaker. Thanks, Gloria.

That's a lost cause so he decides to just wait for Tseng or one of the others, shifting the bag of melting ice against his lip.

[zoto]

Huh. Reno doesn't know this Rufus. Sure, he knows him, because it's Rufus for fuck's sake, he could pick the guy out from a crowd a hundred feet overhead and blindfolded if he had to, that's not the discrepancy here. This one is just different, and Reno can't figure it for the exact reason why. It's on the same wavelength as that back of the neck prickle you get right before someone flashes heat on the street; something about this Rufus has the capacity to change the world as he knows it forever in one big, resounding boom.

He's on the verge of passing Rufus by, slams his feet into the ground. (Pretty par for the course, Reno ripping from one place to another, faster than even his brain can work.) A quick heel-turn and a winning smile that just oozes with slum-sharp vileness and here he is, the one, the only, your favorite fuckin' Maverick. Right, boss?

"Let's see." Reno's eyes dart left, right, up, down. "Someone dent in your face with our Mr. Coffee, boss?"

[electroburst]

This is a god damn shitshow beyond even the likes of which Cats could ever hope to achieve. It is a categorical bitch of a Situation, capital S. Reno has just lived two years into the future overnight, and not a god damn whit of that matters half as much as the absolute fucking disaster waiting for him back in a shockingly whole and un-Meteored Midgar. Imagine his delight and amazement when he checked in with Cobra only to find that Rufus pulled a "wait I thought you were watching the baby" on someone who's supposed to be competent. By delight and amazement I mean it's absolutely no god damn surprise. Rufus escaping is statistical constant. Now he knows why Tseng always looks like he gave up on life six hundred centuries ago.

When Reno finds Rufus (the correct Rufus, rather), he looks a fucking mess. Sand in his hair, dressed in tan desert-trekking fatigues and just absolutely waxy as hell, as if the reason he's showing up late and a mess to all this is because he slept for the whole entire two days (or however many fucking days it's been). Clearly that's not the case, but damn is it hard to reconcile all the mud in his brain the whispers just dragged him through, not that he has any clue about that. Priority one: find the boss. Priority two: give the boss a bunch of shit. Priority three: tell the boss what the fuck is going on. In... some kinda order like that.

"Good fucking leaping shit, there you are. What the hell, boss??"

rude from idk what canon point anymore he's just old /ota

[piledrive]

[ Guess who's watching the door again? Listen, it's just easier than doing ... whatever the fuck else it is he's supposed(?) to be doing. Who's to say half these doubles aren't just people in disguises? Although, of course, if they are, he's doing a hell of a time trying to figure them out. Hell, he slept with .... himself and still isn't totally sure if he wasn't just having some kind of crazy hallucination the whole time.

Ah, what does it matter. Their family has been so small ever since the BC Turks split, the more the merrier, right? Or something.

Just as long as he doesn't have to talk.

So anyway, he's being a good boy and handing out coffee right at the door so nobody has to worry about making it themselves. And also bouncing. Bouncing the... meeting. Shut the fuck up and leave him be, okay. ]

daddy?

[reeno]

[Guess whose sneaking right on up beside him like a fucking real life Pepe LePew.]

Hiya, partner.

[He sees how serious he's being and wants to get him to crack like an egg. The easiest way he can think to accomplish this is to grab his ass. It's more of a resting his hand on one cheek and squeezing playfully. Good luck filing a sexual harassment report when there were maybe a handful of him waltzing around.]

What're you clenching for? Expecting something crazy to happen?

old Rude meet old and tired Rufus

[ambitiousblond]

[Rufus has no intention of shutting up or leaving Rude alone.

He had given up on ever having any coffee after Gloria had unceremoniously shoved Mr. Coffee and a bowl of coffee grounds into his arms and let him try to figure things. He knew better than to make an attempt since many of the Turks seemed fond of old Mr. Coffee and he wasn't going to test if they were more loyal to him or the faithful coffeemaker who didn't fall off buildings or get into trouble.

He had been fed and had a chance to clean up by now, his lip didn't look too terrible by now, so he gratefully takes the coffee from Rude.]

You found Mr. Coffee. I'm glad it's in one piece still.

og BITCH with a BAD ATTITUDE / ota

[presidente]

[ Where has this Rufus been the whole time? House arrest. Fuck off. Don't worry about it.

Anyway, he's here to be attended to, thank you, and he isn't putting up with any bullshit about divided attention or whatever. He will be served immediately or so help him everyone in this room will come to regret it. He receives his burrito and goes to sit down to eat it (with a knife and fork like a proper human and not these guttersnipe heathens eating with their fucking hands) only to realize the second he cuts into it that this is not, in fact, extra steak.

Well. It is extra steak. But it is not enough extra steak.

Rufus throws his utensils down in disgust. ]

Tseng. [ No. Fuck it. Whichever Turk is closest, that's who he's bitching at. ] Come here. Look at this. Tell me what is wrong with this so I don't have to tell you myself.

[zoto]

[ One of these rotten fucking morons actually falls for it. Reno's just a Cheshire cat grin watching from the shadows while it happens: Disney princess Reno meanders too close, gets caught up in Rufus's bitchy little tirade, and makes the mistake of leaning over. Probably about to make what he thinks is a cute quip. That's Reno's cue to flash forward, dialing the static in the room up to eleven, twelve, too much. One quick pop of his palm and Princess Reno goes face-first down into the burrito. Hard to tell what's really crunching, his nose or the aluminum pan it comes in. Probably both, considering he stops struggling after a quick second.

Reno hops his ass up on to the table and kicks his feet up on his fallen clone's crumpled body. ]

Gotcher trust fund, boss.

[ His hand disappears into his jacket and comes back with a neatly-pressed brick of Wutai White. He waves it just under Rufus's nose, waiting for the light to spark in his eyes. Nothin' good ol' Rufie loves more than a sparkling key of the big boy stuff. ]

og motherfucker reno — ota

[zoto]

[ Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. He gets it. Family meetings are serious business. It's just that this Turk in particular, he's been... shall we say exempt from family functions? Whatever you wanna call it, there was an understanding.

See, Reno don't play this twinsie feel-good bullshit. It takes exactly one of him to get a job done. Hanging around with a bunch of misguided alternates? Nnnnnot his idea of a good time. Look at them, milling around with not a fucking clue in their thick and thankless skulls that they're in the presence of the original. What a bunch of sad, sorry sacks. This is exactly the kind of fucking style-cramping he negotiated out of his goddamn contract on day motherfucking one.

Oh, what's his role in all this? That's top secret, slick. Just know that Reno's been sitting pretty on a pile of bitches and blow for a good, long while now. All according to plan. And now this shit.

Reno makes his displeasure known. For one, he's taken great pains to separate himself from all these sniveling little pretenders. Red hair was a good look for droppin' plates and benders abroad, but he's past that now. He hopped on that toxic green and yellow ombre train about two weeks before the streets went wild over the fad. (Trendsetter? Probably.) He's shaved his hair up the sides and added some new hardware. The suit he wears is crisp, Undercity king chic, the kind of shit that keeps you afloat in the dark waters below the plate. Gotta dress for the job you want, after all, and Reno's—excuse you. What part of top fucking secret did you not get the first time around?

Find him napping in a sprawl or getting in people's faces. Especially his own. He knows just what makes you tick, you face-stealing disappointments, and if he has to be here, then he is absolutely not leaving until he makes someone cry ikkle sissy boo-boo tears into their fucking guac. ]

[goons]

[There are two Renos fighting.

Rude stops walking to stare just for a moment, thinking it's just as likely to deescalate on its own than if he gets involved and encourages one or the other to think he's picking a side. So he watches, but it looks as though the opposite is about to happen so he does what any sane-passing masochist inappropriately enamored with his best friend and colleague would do. He steps right in between them.

Without giving any time to hear both sides of the story he uses his body as a shield to forcefully guide the angrier one (that's yours) right out of the meeting room.]

That one's new.

[It's not much of a question. He puts both his hands on Reno's shoulders so he doesn't get away. No one ask how it is he can't tell the versions of himself apart but he can keep each Reno separate in his head without assistance.]

Leave him alone.

post ac Elena

[petitepistol]

[this might, altogether, be the strangest moment of her career. no we are not counting meteor with 'strange' moment because it's within the category of 'horrifying'. Now that that's out of the way-- this was probably inevitable, like the waves crashing on the shore. a tidal wave of Turks and then some.

Elena listens, notepad filled with notes though the most important ones are up top, seen through the not-so-doe eyes that continue to flicker across the room, categorizing and labeling certain individuals into not-so-neat little boxes. because not much about this group is neat, and nothing ever, ever goes down easy here.

when she does have a moment she'll approach slowly, warily, but her smile is intact and her gaze is open enough. they're family, after all, and technically aren't they all the black sheep of this place. them? us? look at them, they are us. What differences do you see, Simba.]

eyes

[redlines]

<sub>[Listen, Roche is only here because he's been schmoozing with a certain couple of Turks, but even he knows when to keep his noise out of Official Turk Business. Still, it doesn't mean he's not going to watch the doubles and try to figure out ways to tell them apart.

The only one he hasn't seen a double for is... right here, actually. He knows her name - he's heard it here and there, but he's never actually spoken to her before until now.]</sub>

I don't think I've seen so many black suits in one place before.

_{[Black suits and one Reno in tan fatigues to be exact.]}

The Actual Chief- ota

[veld]

[It was time to come home once more. He had only been around long enough to see the chaos that was SEPC before he went back to his own business. But Felicia was nowhere to be found and after locating the there Turks scattered across the planet, it was time to deal with unfinished business.

He had already learned of recent developments in terms of who would be in the Turk officers by the time he stepped through the door, looking around at the scene in front of him. Was that blood on a coffee table? Most likely, which explained the crying intern running out of the office sobbing about a burrito. Whatever, not his problem anymore.

He approached the desk, standing behind the chair as he remembered his own days as Director. Did he miss them? Perhaps. But there was nothing that would get him to take that position once more. That part of his life had ended.

Anyway, it was time to find some errant Turks.]

[electroburst]

[ Reno is headed up the hall back to the office where everyone is meeting, and he's having an Important Conversation. One that goes something like this: ]

I want the notes file from two days ago backed up to the X drive, then I want it uploaded to W.

[ Beep-beep. Understood. ]

Everything from May 19 needs copied and backed up, too. Then condense the report from June 18 and send it to the printer in Office D23, cover letter "For Rude."

[ Beep-beep. Yes, sir! ]

Get me a list of the trainee reserve, I want the full detail, use access code Delta 29 if you have to. Fuck only knows what pit they're languishing in anymore, we need this god damn stagnant-ass buncha—

[ Beep-beep. Deploying access code Delta 29. ]

Cool, alright. Lastly—oh, what the fuck.

[ Beep-beep. Sir? Reno stops short and lowers his phone from where he's been speaking into it. Of all people to show up to the sandbox castle-building baby fucking Turk party, he wasn't expecting dear old dad. One last note for his assistant: Set me a call reminder for three hours. And then away his phone goes and a curled-lip grin draws itself across his steely-eyed face. ]

Wasn't expecting to see you here! Did you RSVP, huh?

i will fuck this 38 year old. mark my words. i don't even have daddy issues.

[electroburst]

[ Before the Gardens smash together in the desert and Reno travels two years into the future, he's just a post-platedrop loser with three months of trauma and chaos under his belt. Tseng's flown the coop and left Reno in charge, and it turns out there's a reason Veld and Tseng are both 1. wholly inefficient, 2. tired all the time and 3. fucking insane. Running the Turks is a joke. It was probably always a joke, but now that there are multiples of everyone running around to worry about, it's just about the biggest headache he's ever had to deal with. No matter how much of a scheming, ladder-climbing fuck he's been his whole Turk life, he never wanted to be in charge, really. Second in command is good enough. It affords him the status, the pay, and the respect without all the god damn responsibility.

Fortunately, it isn't the cards for him to have to do this for more than one week. But on day four, he's about had enough of this shit and needs to go somewhere to vent. God forbid he just leave the building and find out something else is on fire and have to come back, and besides which he's waiting on a report to generate and he doesn't intend to leave it for tomorrow. It'll be awhile before it compiles and downloads and he's got time to kill, so he does what any responsible boss would do and pulls out a bottle of the good scotch, two glasses, and throws darts in his head at who to drink it with.

Who the fuck would even still be in the building at this hour? Everyone went home alre—Reeve. Reeve would still be in the building at this hour.

Reno makes a beeline for his floor, sweet-talks his way past his secretary the way he's done ten million times before, and then knocks on the door to his office with the tip of the bottle before he lets himself right on in. ]

Yo, stop crying in Autocad for five seconds. I need you.

THIS TFLN IS SO SPECIFICALLY CALLING ME OUT I CAN'T EVEN

[wro]

[Reeve is working, of course. He's always working, because there are always things that need to be done that he can't trust anyone else to handle properly-- such is the life of a highly-skilled engineer. And it isn't as if he has anywhere else to be, or anyone to go home to, or even anything else to do other than keep on slaving away in front of his computer in the hopes that he'll at least manage to accomplish something before he finally gives up and goes over to crash on the couch for a few hours before trying again.

It's all the same. It's always the same. And in its own way, that's comforting, because he knows how to handle it. He can let his mind default to work mode and not have to think about anything else, just let all of his emotions shut off in favor of Getting Things Done so that he doesn't have to think about anything outside of what he needs to accomplish for the time being.

It's easier that way. It's lonelier that way, but he's gotten used to it by now, and it's become a familiar routine that no longer requires thought.

Until, that is, someone is knocking on his door and shaking him right out of his math-induced stupor, one eyebrow raising in displeasure as his office is unceremoniously invaded by one of the last people he was expecting to see here. Well, there goes any hope of getting anything else done for the next half hour or so...]

Do you have any idea what time it is?

[He says, sitting at his computer staring in frustration at calculations that aren't compiling quite right no matter how many times he's gone over them.]