WRO HQ, Sector 4
Who: Reeve, Barrett
Status: Closed
When: 6:15 AM
Where: WRO HQ, President's office
What: Fallout from the newspaper has already started to plague the WRO... and AVALANCHE as well.
The fallout from Rufus's statement had already begun; he could see it from behind the tinted windows of his sedan, could feel it from the rather frosty reception he'd gotten from his own driver. People crowded around papers, vehement discussions on the streets, angry and confused stares as his car went through the city. Reeve noted it all even as he was deep in talks with the Junon outpost. The WRO, even with the sudden budget crunch, could at least assist in searching out the people responsible. Especially at sea- "I don't care what it takes, I want the ship manifests and cargo notations," he'd snapped at the outpost commander. Junon was an outlet for the increasing drug trade, and the possibility that it was a drug-related incident was strong. HQ was contacted as well, and a patrol schedule was set up for Sector Seven. Maybe it was a dragon, maybe something else; whatever it was, security was going to be increased, especially at night.
WRO headquarters had never looked bleaker than when he entered the gates that morning. Dull grey skies, heavy showers spattered the already bleak compound. Secretaries looked nervous when he came in; finance was having utter fits; and when he walked into his office there were several letters of resignation from various departments sitting on his desk and in his e-mail. Cait Sith began speed-reading and sorting them, making up a diagram of who was gone and how it was going to affect the organization. Reeve himself simply started up his coffee machine with the last of his gourmet coffee, sending a note to his personal secretary to stop buying the expensive stuff and switch to the mud the rest of the company subsisted on.
It was the quiet that was disturbing. Reeve was not a violent man by any stretch of the imagination. He was probably too soft-hearted to be in the position he was in now, but... well. It crossed his mind that his father would've gone out, gotten drunk, and beat the everloving hell out of anyone who got in his way (including family), in a situation like this. The temptation to smash a fist through a mirror was certainly there, but would be pointless except to bloody his knuckles. A normal person would rant and rave; he simply sipped slowly at his coffee and made the calls he had to make. His voice was steady, soft and understanding even as his fingers clenched a pencil so tightly it snapped in two.
Finance was notified to get ready for an emergency meeting in half an hour; all recruitment at global WRO outposts was halted; Science was shot an e-mail prohibiting all future studies except the essentials. That hadn't set well at all with Shalua, who'd cursed him six ways to Sunday before relenting. What projects they had could be finished (vaccinations, back research on the old SOLDIER beginning experiments), and they would continue working on a solution to the M-PIV problem, but all else was ended. Layoffs were going to be inevitable until they got back on their feet financially. That was perhaps the worst bit- they already were being criticized about the job market; this would only worsen things.
"Cait." The feline almost didn't hear the voice, it was so quiet. "What do you think, Cait? Is it over?"
"... wasn't it yer mum who said ya couldn' fail 'less ya gave up?" Reeve was still staring at the far wall, eyes narrowed in thought; he nodded slowly, not looking down. He was rubbing his wrists again, the scars left from handcuffs, from ShinRa's prison cell. Cait toddled over and crawled up on the desk, sitting in front of him. He was the second Cait unit brought to life, but he still had some of the memories of the first. They had all been linked by the same spark of life Reeve had breathed into them; with all the other units destroyed and the backups all in stasis until needed, he was the only one linked to his creator. The not-quite-telepathic connection between them was almost closed off, and on purpose. Reeve never liked to inflict his 'children' with his own overloading emotions. "I cannae read ya when yer like this. Yer shuttin' me off. Is tha' whatcha wanna do, or whatcha think y' should do?"
Reeve didn't answer for a long moment, idly scratching at the automaton's ear. "Cait... what's that saying they use? 'Fight fire with fire'?" He bit his lower lip. "I should have guessed Rufus wouldn't let this stay as a personal disagreement. Still... this may hurt him just as much as it's going to hurt me." Hazel-green eyes flashed with determination; Cait purred. "I'm not going down, and I'm not going down alone. I've gone through too much just to get this far. This is it. Do or die." Reeve smiled at Cait, feline and predatory. "Let's get to work."
Status: Closed
When: 6:15 AM
Where: WRO HQ, President's office
What: Fallout from the newspaper has already started to plague the WRO... and AVALANCHE as well.
The fallout from Rufus's statement had already begun; he could see it from behind the tinted windows of his sedan, could feel it from the rather frosty reception he'd gotten from his own driver. People crowded around papers, vehement discussions on the streets, angry and confused stares as his car went through the city. Reeve noted it all even as he was deep in talks with the Junon outpost. The WRO, even with the sudden budget crunch, could at least assist in searching out the people responsible. Especially at sea- "I don't care what it takes, I want the ship manifests and cargo notations," he'd snapped at the outpost commander. Junon was an outlet for the increasing drug trade, and the possibility that it was a drug-related incident was strong. HQ was contacted as well, and a patrol schedule was set up for Sector Seven. Maybe it was a dragon, maybe something else; whatever it was, security was going to be increased, especially at night.
WRO headquarters had never looked bleaker than when he entered the gates that morning. Dull grey skies, heavy showers spattered the already bleak compound. Secretaries looked nervous when he came in; finance was having utter fits; and when he walked into his office there were several letters of resignation from various departments sitting on his desk and in his e-mail. Cait Sith began speed-reading and sorting them, making up a diagram of who was gone and how it was going to affect the organization. Reeve himself simply started up his coffee machine with the last of his gourmet coffee, sending a note to his personal secretary to stop buying the expensive stuff and switch to the mud the rest of the company subsisted on.
It was the quiet that was disturbing. Reeve was not a violent man by any stretch of the imagination. He was probably too soft-hearted to be in the position he was in now, but... well. It crossed his mind that his father would've gone out, gotten drunk, and beat the everloving hell out of anyone who got in his way (including family), in a situation like this. The temptation to smash a fist through a mirror was certainly there, but would be pointless except to bloody his knuckles. A normal person would rant and rave; he simply sipped slowly at his coffee and made the calls he had to make. His voice was steady, soft and understanding even as his fingers clenched a pencil so tightly it snapped in two.
Finance was notified to get ready for an emergency meeting in half an hour; all recruitment at global WRO outposts was halted; Science was shot an e-mail prohibiting all future studies except the essentials. That hadn't set well at all with Shalua, who'd cursed him six ways to Sunday before relenting. What projects they had could be finished (vaccinations, back research on the old SOLDIER beginning experiments), and they would continue working on a solution to the M-PIV problem, but all else was ended. Layoffs were going to be inevitable until they got back on their feet financially. That was perhaps the worst bit- they already were being criticized about the job market; this would only worsen things.
"Cait." The feline almost didn't hear the voice, it was so quiet. "What do you think, Cait? Is it over?"
"... wasn't it yer mum who said ya couldn' fail 'less ya gave up?" Reeve was still staring at the far wall, eyes narrowed in thought; he nodded slowly, not looking down. He was rubbing his wrists again, the scars left from handcuffs, from ShinRa's prison cell. Cait toddled over and crawled up on the desk, sitting in front of him. He was the second Cait unit brought to life, but he still had some of the memories of the first. They had all been linked by the same spark of life Reeve had breathed into them; with all the other units destroyed and the backups all in stasis until needed, he was the only one linked to his creator. The not-quite-telepathic connection between them was almost closed off, and on purpose. Reeve never liked to inflict his 'children' with his own overloading emotions. "I cannae read ya when yer like this. Yer shuttin' me off. Is tha' whatcha wanna do, or whatcha think y' should do?"
Reeve didn't answer for a long moment, idly scratching at the automaton's ear. "Cait... what's that saying they use? 'Fight fire with fire'?" He bit his lower lip. "I should have guessed Rufus wouldn't let this stay as a personal disagreement. Still... this may hurt him just as much as it's going to hurt me." Hazel-green eyes flashed with determination; Cait purred. "I'm not going down, and I'm not going down alone. I've gone through too much just to get this far. This is it. Do or die." Reeve smiled at Cait, feline and predatory. "Let's get to work."