Umm, I should be working on other fics
Need to get this down and out of head.
It takes four weeks to get to Seattle. Four weeks of walking, hitch-hiking and a week on a battered Foxhound once he crosses the UCAS border. He's got two bags and his guitar case and the clothes he's standing up in.
They hit checkpoints from about forty miles outside the city. The first sign is at thirty eight miles, past the first Armed forces check-point. Kris hands over his dog-eared passport and the troll grunts, hydraulics in her left arm hissing. Kris doesn't know exactly where to look; Conway's mostly human, only a couple of centaurs and some orcs who used to be the preacher's cousins. Kris gets on with them fine but this is the first time that he's gotten so close to one of the less human thauma-types.
"Reason for travel?" Sounds Texan, Kris thinks.
"Looking for work."
"Says you've got military experience." The troll's eyes gleam red and her tone is more curious than official. She hands back the passport and Kris can see 'HOPKINS' on her name tag. She's wearing sergeant's stripes.
"Militia." Kris admits.
"Going corporate?"
"Hoping, I guess." Kris shrugs. "Nothing back home."
"I hear you." Sergeant Hopkins looks over to where her human team-mate is arguing with a deaf dwarf. "You know how to shoot?"
"Rifles mostly, but yeah." Kris pats his bag, where the all important letter is tucked into his music book. "Friend of my mom used to work for the Black, wrote me a letter."
"Shiiit," Hopkins smiles, all razor sharp tusks. "That's gold, boy."
"I'd settle for cred." Kris admits with a smile.
"Best of luck to you then, Mr. Allen." She nods to him, already turning away. "CLARK! MOVE YOUR ASS BEFORE I SHOOT IT FOR OBSTRUCTING THE DAMN ROAD! You folks, travel safe. Corp cordon kicks in in about half a mile so mind your manners, y'hear?"
Clark scurries over, looking like a toddler compared to the massive troll. Kris waves goodbye and shouts a thank-you over the roar of the bus' engines. The gunners are moving to take up their stations again, shrugging into the stiff door-gunner jackets. The sound of the massive 50 cals chambering the round makes a few of the older passengers cringe. Kris turns to the window, watching the landscape unfurl alongside.
The sign is nearly as big as the bus, colourful and vivid. The small black panel at the top should look out of place but it fits, somehow. There's four languages altogether, English on top.
"Metal & Magic welcomes you to Seattle; Eastern Capital of UCAS Pacific Province!"
ETA Metal & Magic HQ is downtown, near the port and the heart of the neo-industrial zone. The central tower, according to the data-set Kris loaded into his glasses, is one hundred and seventy five stories high. It looks huge, the data set helpfully clarifying square footage on each floor is equivalent to a super hanger capable of containing five 747s. It's blockier than most skyscrapers.
Kris stares up at the mirrored walls as the small carriage-jeep rumbles along the wide driveways. There are weapon emplacements scattered along the line of the entrance road, most with bores bigger than Kris' head. He's been counting black-uniformed security personnel for the last half-mile. Four hundred total; two hundred orcs and trolls, fifty (probably) elves, eighty dwarves and the other seventy could have been anything under the helmet but were probably human.
The data-set routes through Metal & Magic's racial statistics; Most Diverse Workplace for the last decade. Statistically the most racial diverse corporate entity in history. Metal & Magic's anti-discrimination policies, public texts.
He recognises some of the weapons; mostly from news stations showing the UCAS navy's new battleship, complete with MilitechTM armaments.
MilitechTM has been a subsidary of Metal & Magic for six years, following a lawsuit and hostile takeover. The current CEO is Kacey Daniels. Kacey Daniels is the elder brother of Kellen Daniels, CEO of Metal & Magic. He owns approximatel-
Kris shuts the data-set down and takes off his glasses. The driver pulls in and points him towards the reception area. "You'll want MC-3, that's prospective employees. You have the forms, yeah?"
"Yeah." Kris waves the chip and smiles lopsidedly. "Everything they sent."
"Good for you." The orc nods to him. "Best of luck."
"Thanks man," Kris grabs his bag and hops out. The reception area is all glass and wired receptionists sit behind floating light displays. There have to be like a hundred of them, fingers flying across the glowing keys. There's a constant chatter going in the background.
"-nd Third, armed robbery in progress. Gang affliated-"
"-repeat, SPD call-out at Twenty-fifth and National. Magic support requested."
"-nfirm off duty. Thank you, DTF-76, and good morning."
"-say again, rotation in quadrant N-32-A complete. Confirm shift change."
Kris shuffles in, feeling like the worst sort of redneck hick. The nearest receptionist looks up. "Good morning," her eyes unfocus for a second, "-Mr Allen. Welcome to Metal & Magic. Do you have the forms you were issued completed?"
"Yeah," Kris hands over the chip, which she plugs into a jack on the side of her chair. The displays in front of her ripple and Kris sees the inverse of his picture flash up on screen. Her eyes skim the data and she smiles again.
"Thank you, sir. That seems to be in order. If you don't mind waiting for a minute, one of the recruitment team will be with you."
"Uh, thanks?" Kris hugs his bag and looks around, feeling a lot out of place. Her smile softens and becomes a little warmer.
"There's a coffee kiosk just behind you, if you want to grab a drink. It really will just be a minute."
"Thanks," Kris smiles back and goes over to the kiosk. It's a real kiosk, totally professional. Starbux-standard at least. He manages to coax out a hot chocolate and is looking for a seat when one of the polished steel and glass panels slides aside and a man steps out.
Kris manages not to drop the hot chocolate but it's a close thing. He's never met a human like this and the guy's too tall to be an elf or one of the Sidhe. He's wearing what looks like a formal business suit in black leather, with a shimmering silver shirt. His hair is black with blue streaks and he's wearing makeup. He looks...kinda awesome actually.
"Kris Allen?" Even the guy's voice is awesome and Kris can't help the dazzled smile.
"That's me."
"Hi, I'm Adam. I'm going to be overseeing your recruitment tests, if that's okay."
"Yeah, fine." Kris gulps a little and looks down at his hot chocolate. "Um, can I finish this?"
"What? Oh! Oh, yeah, of course." Adam's polite smile thaws out into a more real expression. He looks down ruefully. "Sorry, I don't usually do these. My first time doing it on my own."
"Hey," Kris offers. "Me too. So it's not like I'm going to know if you mess up."
Adam actually laughs at that and Kris' insides go all gooey. He's kinda mortified to tell the truth but Adam is grinning down at him and Kris is helpless to stop from grinning back. "I'm going to hold you to that."
It takes four weeks to get to Seattle. Four weeks of walking, hitch-hiking and a week on a battered Foxhound once he crosses the UCAS border. He's got two bags and his guitar case and the clothes he's standing up in.
They hit checkpoints from about forty miles outside the city. The first sign is at thirty eight miles, past the first Armed forces check-point. Kris hands over his dog-eared passport and the troll grunts, hydraulics in her left arm hissing. Kris doesn't know exactly where to look; Conway's mostly human, only a couple of centaurs and some orcs who used to be the preacher's cousins. Kris gets on with them fine but this is the first time that he's gotten so close to one of the less human thauma-types.
"Reason for travel?" Sounds Texan, Kris thinks.
"Looking for work."
"Says you've got military experience." The troll's eyes gleam red and her tone is more curious than official. She hands back the passport and Kris can see 'HOPKINS' on her name tag. She's wearing sergeant's stripes.
"Militia." Kris admits.
"Going corporate?"
"Hoping, I guess." Kris shrugs. "Nothing back home."
"I hear you." Sergeant Hopkins looks over to where her human team-mate is arguing with a deaf dwarf. "You know how to shoot?"
"Rifles mostly, but yeah." Kris pats his bag, where the all important letter is tucked into his music book. "Friend of my mom used to work for the Black, wrote me a letter."
"Shiiit," Hopkins smiles, all razor sharp tusks. "That's gold, boy."
"I'd settle for cred." Kris admits with a smile.
"Best of luck to you then, Mr. Allen." She nods to him, already turning away. "CLARK! MOVE YOUR ASS BEFORE I SHOOT IT FOR OBSTRUCTING THE DAMN ROAD! You folks, travel safe. Corp cordon kicks in in about half a mile so mind your manners, y'hear?"
Clark scurries over, looking like a toddler compared to the massive troll. Kris waves goodbye and shouts a thank-you over the roar of the bus' engines. The gunners are moving to take up their stations again, shrugging into the stiff door-gunner jackets. The sound of the massive 50 cals chambering the round makes a few of the older passengers cringe. Kris turns to the window, watching the landscape unfurl alongside.
The sign is nearly as big as the bus, colourful and vivid. The small black panel at the top should look out of place but it fits, somehow. There's four languages altogether, English on top.
"Metal & Magic welcomes you to Seattle; Eastern Capital of UCAS Pacific Province!"
ETA Metal & Magic HQ is downtown, near the port and the heart of the neo-industrial zone. The central tower, according to the data-set Kris loaded into his glasses, is one hundred and seventy five stories high. It looks huge, the data set helpfully clarifying square footage on each floor is equivalent to a super hanger capable of containing five 747s. It's blockier than most skyscrapers.
Kris stares up at the mirrored walls as the small carriage-jeep rumbles along the wide driveways. There are weapon emplacements scattered along the line of the entrance road, most with bores bigger than Kris' head. He's been counting black-uniformed security personnel for the last half-mile. Four hundred total; two hundred orcs and trolls, fifty (probably) elves, eighty dwarves and the other seventy could have been anything under the helmet but were probably human.
The data-set routes through Metal & Magic's racial statistics; Most Diverse Workplace for the last decade. Statistically the most racial diverse corporate entity in history. Metal & Magic's anti-discrimination policies, public texts.
He recognises some of the weapons; mostly from news stations showing the UCAS navy's new battleship, complete with MilitechTM armaments.
MilitechTM has been a subsidary of Metal & Magic for six years, following a lawsuit and hostile takeover. The current CEO is Kacey Daniels. Kacey Daniels is the elder brother of Kellen Daniels, CEO of Metal & Magic. He owns approximatel-
Kris shuts the data-set down and takes off his glasses. The driver pulls in and points him towards the reception area. "You'll want MC-3, that's prospective employees. You have the forms, yeah?"
"Yeah." Kris waves the chip and smiles lopsidedly. "Everything they sent."
"Good for you." The orc nods to him. "Best of luck."
"Thanks man," Kris grabs his bag and hops out. The reception area is all glass and wired receptionists sit behind floating light displays. There have to be like a hundred of them, fingers flying across the glowing keys. There's a constant chatter going in the background.
"-nd Third, armed robbery in progress. Gang affliated-"
"-repeat, SPD call-out at Twenty-fifth and National. Magic support requested."
"-nfirm off duty. Thank you, DTF-76, and good morning."
"-say again, rotation in quadrant N-32-A complete. Confirm shift change."
Kris shuffles in, feeling like the worst sort of redneck hick. The nearest receptionist looks up. "Good morning," her eyes unfocus for a second, "-Mr Allen. Welcome to Metal & Magic. Do you have the forms you were issued completed?"
"Yeah," Kris hands over the chip, which she plugs into a jack on the side of her chair. The displays in front of her ripple and Kris sees the inverse of his picture flash up on screen. Her eyes skim the data and she smiles again.
"Thank you, sir. That seems to be in order. If you don't mind waiting for a minute, one of the recruitment team will be with you."
"Uh, thanks?" Kris hugs his bag and looks around, feeling a lot out of place. Her smile softens and becomes a little warmer.
"There's a coffee kiosk just behind you, if you want to grab a drink. It really will just be a minute."
"Thanks," Kris smiles back and goes over to the kiosk. It's a real kiosk, totally professional. Starbux-standard at least. He manages to coax out a hot chocolate and is looking for a seat when one of the polished steel and glass panels slides aside and a man steps out.
Kris manages not to drop the hot chocolate but it's a close thing. He's never met a human like this and the guy's too tall to be an elf or one of the Sidhe. He's wearing what looks like a formal business suit in black leather, with a shimmering silver shirt. His hair is black with blue streaks and he's wearing makeup. He looks...kinda awesome actually.
"Kris Allen?" Even the guy's voice is awesome and Kris can't help the dazzled smile.
"That's me."
"Hi, I'm Adam. I'm going to be overseeing your recruitment tests, if that's okay."
"Yeah, fine." Kris gulps a little and looks down at his hot chocolate. "Um, can I finish this?"
"What? Oh! Oh, yeah, of course." Adam's polite smile thaws out into a more real expression. He looks down ruefully. "Sorry, I don't usually do these. My first time doing it on my own."
"Hey," Kris offers. "Me too. So it's not like I'm going to know if you mess up."
Adam actually laughs at that and Kris' insides go all gooey. He's kinda mortified to tell the truth but Adam is grinning down at him and Kris is helpless to stop from grinning back. "I'm going to hold you to that."