(Untitled)

[shinraheidegger]

Date: sometime between 1989 and 1990 (time doesn't matter really non of this is canon)
Summary: Heidegger wants the turks off their asses.
Rating: PG-13; Language possible violence.
Open/Closed/Status/Required: This thread is the plot you've all been asking for. Respond, now.

Comments

[turk_two_guns]

Two-Guns' ears twitched as the announcement was relayed over the PA. *What does that oaf want with the Turks?* he thought as he slowly rose and made his way to the lift.

The ride up to the meeting room was entirely too short for his liking. He debated kicking the door to the meeting room open to show his displeasure at being summond by that great lump, but figured he'd hold back... at least until he knew what the hell was going on. He slipped in silently, raising an eyebrow at the nameplates. Not acknowledging anything, he searched out his own name and stood behind the chair, arms behind his back, resting on his guns.

[tseng]

There was a twitch. There might have been a sigh. There was definitely a frown.

Tseng rose, capping and setting his pen into an inner pocket, not even bothering to finish what he was writing. There was no point to give Heidegger even more reason to throw his weight around and show who was boss. Veld never needed to flex his muscles like this pompous warhorse did.

It didn't take long to reach the warhorse's office, though Tseng wondered... where in the hell the rest of his Turks were? This was not going to come out well for him.

[armanireload]

Alex was quiet. That wasn't much of a stretch to the imagination, but he opened the doors to the large conference room without much more than a creak of the hinges. Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak!

... Wonderful. He winced slightly.

He carefully searched for his nameplate, then followed the other Turk's example and stood behind the chair, resting a hand in the pocket of his suit pants.