recruiting day (Nike-z)

[Jacob C. Vinland]

This sucked.

Jacob couldn't believe that he, of all people, one of the most legendary vice-admirals (if not marines) in the history of the navy itself was stuck with such a job. He had tried to explain that he had more important things to deal and had more important people to recruit to his up-and-coming special forces squad for the marines. Then there were also the matters he was going to begin investigating with said marines once the unit got going. This one nasty little joke of a job, however, had a chance of putting a wrench in the works for all of that. What kind of job was it? Well, as jacob liked to call it, it was the "One dirty word job no one wanted."

A "babysitting" job.

In essence, what had happened was that an individual in the marines started showing potential to certain parties in the organization that he could be a good soldier. That marine, however also would have some said issue that was problematic to the marines that they didn't want to have to deal with. So, rather then go through certian channels, some lazy commanding officer circumvented the chain of command to try and find a way to get the said marine with "potential" into some special training to try and sort out those issues. Cue drawing of straws from special forces trainers to not get the guy and be stuck with what usually resulted in problems for everyone. Except there was no drawing of straws, and Jacob got stuck with the kid due to mere proximity and timing of his visit to Micqueot. That, and shitty luck.

So, Jacob now found himself making his way around the damn base trying to find the guy of whom he only had a picture and a name for at the moment. Why? The documentation department lost the marine's records in what Jacob assumed was a fit of pure stupidity. That left Jacob looking for one man of whom he knew little to nothing about:

"Nike-Z" as the picture was plainly labeled.

Jacob was glad he got a picture and the kid didn't look like some punk, "gangsta" or "rebel" type. Those types usually didn't last long in Jacobs world and Jacob swore the next one that got randomly assigned to his unit for shits and giggles by some asshat beuracrat or douche-bag superior was going to get shot. Repeatedly if necessary. Jacob had almost retired from getting a number of these types in his training program in the past that he tried training with less then spectacular results. If it hadn't been for some high-quality admirals that Jacob had worked with in the past, chances are Jacob would have simply retired and gone into private-sector training for Alexandria's military.

Even the vice-admiral had his limits.

At any rate, Jacob now found himself making his way through the base looking for Mr.Z and hoping that his day that had been going mildly well so far wasn't turned to complete shit in the matter of an hour of meeting the individual he was being forced to recruit. Dressed in the trademark, white vice-admiral uniform, Jacob was following a lead that said Nike would be getting back from leave very soon and might be waltzing in through the front gate any minute.

So, patiently waiting as a flood of marines came back from leave, Jacob watched the sea of faces (many of them staring at him with trepidation) came back from their vacation. Somewhere in there was Nike, and Jacob was going to find him and make sure he got his message very clearly across:

Don't screw with the vice-admiral, and he won't make your life hell.

[Nike Z]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style,width:480px;][style=text-align:center; font-family:arial black; font-size:22px; color:#000; margin-bottom:-10px; text-transform:uppercase;]my god you are the death of me[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style,width:480px; border-top:8px solid #000;][style=margin:-1px; background-color:#444; color:#fff; text-transform:uppercase; font-size:9px; font-family:verdana; text-align:center; letter-spacing:-1px; text-shadow:1px 1px 3px #000;]+ 369 words + Jacob + Blah blah blah you owe me posts when you get internet again +[/style][style=float:left; margin:5px; border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border:8px solid #505050; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/Z33WO.png); position:relative; z-index:1;][/style][style=float:left;padding-left:50px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:lowercase; font-size:18px; line-height:14px; color:#fff; background-color:#505050; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:1px; padding-top:1px; width:480px; text-align:right; margin-left:15px; margin-top:-90px;]with your reaper gait and scything asthma--[/style][style=float:left;padding-left:50px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:uppercase; font-size:10px; line-height:11px; color:#fff; background-color:#333; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:1px; padding-top:1px; width:480px; text-align:right; margin-left:15px; margin-top:-74px;]let me welcome you with open arms.[/style][style=width:390px; text-align:justify; font-family:arial; font-size:10px; margin-top:80px; padding-right:20px; margin-left:130px;]Nike was dreading returning to work. He’d been forced on an unpaid “vacation” and demoted due to that little bitch of a bounty hunter getting him into trouble. And now that said “vacation” was over and he had to report for duty. He was sure that whoever was going to be directly above him now was going to be the biggest asshole ever. So now he was in a foul mood and trudging onto the base as other marines pushed past him. His odd ears drooped a bit as he let out a heavy sigh. He already caught grief from his superiors due to the fact he was clearly not human since his ears were very canine in appearance and function. He knew exactly what his family heritage was, and also knew it was important to keep it secret, so he instead would tell anyone who asked that his mother was human and he never knew anything about his father. So far the lie had managed to keep everyone fooled and for the most part keep the people who really detested other races off his back. He seriously hoped whoever was going to be his new boss wasn’t one of those kinds of people. It was the absolute last thing he needed right now. His train of thought caused him to heave another sigh, a clear expression of dread and depression etched on his face as he walked through the gates onto the marine base. In the crowd of marines entering he stood out the most since he was dressed in his usual civilian clothes for now. The sun was bright in the sky so he had a black cap and sunglasses on to shield his dual colored eyes. He had a green canvas bag slung over his shoulder, the color contrasting against his red hair. In the bag were his usual daily care supplies as well as his marine uniform, neatly folded at the bottom so he didn’t get chewed out for a wrinkled uniform. He noticed one of the vice-admirals was there watching the people entering the base and let out a small groan. This day just gets better and better, he thought with a sarcastic sigh. [/style]

[style=font-family:ms gothic; font-size:15px;]made by RIVER! of CTL and OTE[/style]

[Jacob C. Vinland]

As Jacob's eyes poured over the crowd of marines flooding back into the base, he found himself doing everything in his power not to be distracted from the task at hand. Odd, considering normally he was as sharp as a razor even in the simplest of tasks. Part of Jacob wondered if all this recruiting for his unit was tiring him out more then usual: wearing the mask of "perfect charismatic marine legend" all the time wasn't exactly easy. People expected you to act a certain way and possess a certain charm. Sometimes it was fun, other times it was irritating as hell.

This was one of those times that Jacob did not particularly feel charismatic, which was why when he finally spotted the young Nike in the crowd. (he was easy to spot: the canine ears and hair color were an obvious givaway. Jacob, rather then try and simply pull nike out of the crowd, decided it was perhaps time to exercise his authority a little bit.

Jacob placed his fingers in his mouth and blew, creating an incredibly sharp, loud and prolonged whistle that any marine recruit was all too familiar with: it meant give the commanding officer your attention. Now. No questions, no debates, just obedience. The crowd of marines did in fact obey, stopping dead in their tracks with slight mumbles. Jacob didn't waste any time, stepping forward with a gait and stance befitting a highly respected and even loved (if also feared) Marine commanding officer.

"Nike Z. Front and Center." Jacob said nonchalantly in a tone audible enough to be heard by the crowd. Nike Z did not immediately appear forward, and Jacob heard the mumbles in the crowd grow, indicating some sort of gossip. Jacob hated gossip, rumors and intolerance. There was no better way to undermine a fighting force then to weaken its very foundations with mistrust and intolerance, and gossip was a perfect way to spread that.

Which was why Jacob was putting his foot down here and now.

"Did I say "please", Maggots?! Did it sound like I was asking for any of you to give me your fucking opinion?! Did I give you the permission to talk for that matter?! You are goddamn marines! Aside from eating, sleeping and shitting you only do what I tell you to do, and unless you want to get real familiar with shit when I make you sleep in the septic systems, YOU WILL DO WHAT I ASK WHEN I ASK IT! Moreover, I swear to god if I hear or so much as get the inclination that your asshats are whispering, gossiping or spreading rumors about each other, I'll have you doing Artic ops training naked until your balls fall off, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?! NIKE Z, FRONT AND CENTER, THE REST OF YOU, MOVE OUT!"

It took a few seconds for the booming, almost inhuman roar of a voice to set in, but Jacob waited patiently with a stern look like that of a father watching a scolded son go to his room like he was told. Once things did get moving, Jacob waited patiently, arms crossed, for Nike to step forward. It was important to note that the vice admiral really did have a twang of guilt for his on-the-spot calling out of Nike to stand before him at attention: Jacob recalled back in his young days when he feared such a thing almost as much as death itself. Being called out by one's superior officer was sometimes a bad enough shock. Being called out by an officer of a much, much higher rank was something Jacob would naturally assume could only be much worse for a number or reasons.

Fortunately, Jacob believed he was just as good at building people up as he was breaking them down. Jacob had no doubt he would at least be able to prevent the kid from having a heart attack in the near future by just sitting down and talking to him (which was really all he needed or had to do for the sake of recruiting him). Now all the vice-admiral had to do was wait for the marine in question to step forward...

[Nike Z]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style,width:480px;][style=text-align:center; font-family:arial black; font-size:22px; color:#000; margin-bottom:-10px; text-transform:uppercase;]my god you are the death of me[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style,width:480px; border-top:8px solid #000;][style=margin:-1px; background-color:#444; color:#fff; text-transform:uppercase; font-size:9px; font-family:verdana; text-align:center; letter-spacing:-1px; text-shadow:1px 1px 3px #000;]+ 382 words + Jacob + time to get on a posting roll +[/style][style=float:left; margin:5px; border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border:8px solid #505050; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/Z33WO.png); position:relative; z-index:1;][/style][style=float:left;padding-left:50px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:lowercase; font-size:18px; line-height:14px; color:#fff; background-color:#505050; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:1px; padding-top:1px; width:480px; text-align:right; margin-left:15px; margin-top:-90px;]with your reaper gait and scything asthma--[/style][style=float:left;padding-left:50px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:uppercase; font-size:10px; line-height:11px; color:#fff; background-color:#333; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:1px; padding-top:1px; width:480px; text-align:right; margin-left:15px; margin-top:-74px;]let me welcome you with open arms.[/style][style=width:390px; text-align:justify; font-family:arial; font-size:10px; margin-top:80px; padding-right:20px; margin-left:130px;]“Nike Z. Front and Center.” Oh god, just kill me now, Nike thought with utter dread as he heard the vice-admiral call for him. This day was not going to be a good one; that was apparent already. He seriously hoped he wouldn’t be made to take his sunglasses off yet. His eyes were still pretty bloodshot from the hangover he’d just barely gotten over. Probably should stop drinking the night before I have to return from leave. With another heavy sigh, he turned and started making his way through the crowd. Of course those around him started muttering when he was called, by now he expected them to spread more rumors about him on a daily basis. A couple months before the topic of choice for the rumors had been his sexuality, so he could only imagine what they would be spreading now. He didn’t bother stopping long enough to listen in on any of them though, not when there was a vice-admiral waiting for him to show up; especially when said vice-admiral was one of the most well-known and well-respected marines currently living. Once he’d made it almost out of the crowd he was nearly deafened as Jacob decided that that would be the perfect moment to very loudly tell the lower ranked marines to shut up, ending it by repeating the order for Nike to be front and center. The suddenness and volume of it made Nike jump and throw an arm up as if to defend himself. Even with his ears flipped back as far as they could go Jacob’s booming voice managed to bring back the splitting headache he’d just gotten rid of an hour or so prior. Nike was now effectively terrified of who he seriously hoped was not his new boss. Quickly, as to not incite anymore bouts of yelled orders from the vice-admiral, Nike made his way out of the remaining crowd and stood at attention. There was a mix of nervousness and pain on his face as he saluted Jacob, the nervousness from not having a clue what was ahead of him and the pain from the headache that felt like it was slowly turning into a full-blown migraine. His ears were flipped back in case there would be any more booming orders. [/style]

[style=font-family:ms gothic; font-size:15px;]made by RIVER! of CTL and OTE[/style]

[Jacob C. Vinland]

Obviously, thanks to Jacob's "encouragment" it did not take long for the marines to get their asses moving and for Nike to step forward. When he did, however, Jacob was actually surprised that what he saw changed his opinion of the young marine slightly. While Nike did in fact look like the hung over, marine punk that he had been advertised as in the reports, Jacob also got the feeling that the kid had potential. It wasn't from any quantifiable thing that Jacob saw, however. It was one of his instinctual "gut feelings". More often then not, however, Jacob's gut feelings were correct.

Watching the kid walk up, looking rather frazzled and much like a navy dog that wanted to hide from thunderclaps while out at sea, Jacob felt a twang of pity for the kid. God knows he was in that kind of position at least once or twice in his life, and it was definitely not a nice position to be in. With that in mind, Jacob began to reconsider his initial plan of "scaring obedience into the kid" (since he already looked pretty damn scared) and instead elected to talk to the kid and make his position and rules clear. He was going to tell Nike the same message, just toned down a few clicks on the volume meter. Once Nike stood at attention before Jacob, still shaking like a leaf in the wind, Jacob spoke in a calm, almost fatherly voice.

"At ease, kid, at ease. You look like hell. Spent too much time partying before coming back on duty eh? Comon, lets get you something to wake you up before we talk." Jacob said, giving the kid a quick pat on the shoulder before walking into the base with Nike in what Jacob assumed was close tow. No more then five minutes later, the vice-admiral sat across from his subordinate at a table in the cafeteria, a cup of coffee in front of both men as a preamble to the very serious discussion that was about to take place. After taking a sip of his own coffee, Jacob leaned forward and spoke in the calm yet authoritative voice he had used so many times throughout his career.

"Nike, my name is Jacob C. Vinland. Do you know who I am, and what I do for this military?"

[Nike Z]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style,width:480px;][style=text-align:center; font-family:arial black; font-size:22px; color:#000; margin-bottom:-10px; text-transform:uppercase;]my god you are the death of me[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style,width:480px; border-top:8px solid #000;][style=margin:-1px; background-color:#444; color:#fff; text-transform:uppercase; font-size:9px; font-family:verdana; text-align:center; letter-spacing:-1px; text-shadow:1px 1px 3px #000;]+ 364 words + Jacob + I've never had good experiences with coffee at the workplace....except at GameStop, since we went to Caribou Coffee or Starbucks for it +[/style][style=float:left; margin:5px; border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border:8px solid #505050; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/Z33WO.png); position:relative; z-index:1;][/style][style=float:left;padding-left:50px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:lowercase; font-size:18px; line-height:14px; color:#fff; background-color:#505050; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:1px; padding-top:1px; width:480px; text-align:right; margin-left:15px; margin-top:-90px;]with your reaper gait and scything asthma--[/style][style=float:left;padding-left:50px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:uppercase; font-size:10px; line-height:11px; color:#fff; background-color:#333; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:1px; padding-top:1px; width:480px; text-align:right; margin-left:15px; margin-top:-74px;]let me welcome you with open arms.[/style][style=width:390px; text-align:justify; font-family:arial; font-size:10px; margin-top:80px; padding-right:20px; margin-left:130px;]“At ease, kid, at ease.” Nike immediately breathed a sigh of relief and let his arm drop along with his shoulders, slouching slightly as another pang from his hangover induced headache caused him to grimace slightly. Even with his sunglasses on Jacob could tell he’d been out most of the night. He must have really looked bad if that was the case. “Really that obvious?” he asked sheepishly as Jacob patted his shoulder. He ran a hand through the mas of his hair that wasn’t held back in a ponytail as he followed the vice-admiral to the cafeteria. Once he was seated with coffee in front of him he took his sunglasses off and rubbed his tired and fairly bloodshot eyes. The lights in the building were bright, but thankfully the light wasn’t as harsh on his eyes as sunlight. He folded the glasses and set them down before grabbing the cup and taking a draught of the caffeinated beverage. It helped soothe the effects of his hangover enough that he didn’t feel like crawling into a dark corner and sleeping. When it came time for him to answer the question Jacob posed, he set his cup down on the table and focused on it. He was still feeling all around crappy since he was still peeved about the demotion as well as again feeling annoyed and angry at his adopted family for dumping him off with the marines. They’d cut all ties after that, so it was pretty obvious to him it was just a way to get rid of him without dealing with the orphanage again. “I don’t think there’s anyone on this base who doesn’t know who you are, but I can’t say I know what your duties on this base are.” He kept his eyes focused on his cup and the steam rising from it, the warmth emanating from it being motivation to keep his hand around it. His coffee maker had actually broken about a week prior, so this was the first cup he’d had in a while and he wanted to enjoy it as much as he could. Though the coffee at the base was lacking in taste. [/style]

[style=font-family:ms gothic; font-size:15px;]made by RIVER! of CTL and OTE[/style]

[Jacob C. Vinland]

“I don’t think there’s anyone on this base who doesn’t know who you are, but I can’t say I know what your duties on this base are.”

Jacob simply listened to that statement as he saw the young marine fiddle with his cup of coffee. Well, at least Jacob had managed to keep a semi-low profile regarding his real purpose on the base since he arrived. That would make things much easier. It also affirmed that the first candidate he had picked was as honest as she had been reported to be, and just as good at keeping important secrets, well, secret. It also meant that the nature of the "unit" he was creating was also safe. At least for the moment. After pondering exactly how to explain what was going on for a moment, Jacob spoke in his usual frank and calm manner.

"As you and I both know, you were demoted not too long ago. Another mark on your rather colorful record from what I've seen. Your commanding officers seem to all have a dislike of you for varying reasons. Some as small as hair or clothing violation, ranging all the way up to insubordination. Thankfully nothing as bad as dereliction of duty is on your record, which is good. You should know that such a marked up record..." Jacob said, trailing off as he quietly added some sugar to his coffee before he continued with a statement that Nike might not have expected.

"Doesn't mean shit to me." Jacob said flatly, his eyes fixed on the young marine as he stirred his coffee. "Frankly, I don't give a fuck about what they say about you. They could tell me that your the most gifted marine they've ever seen, whose never late and crosses every T and dots ever I, and I still wouldn't care. I don't let my judgement be clouded by bullshit from often vindictive commanding officers. With that said, however, I do happen to be a good judge of potential and character, and right now its clear as day to me that you don't like the position you're in and even I daresay don't like being a marine. Fine. Your entitled to your opinion. With that said, your have been assigned to me and are my responsibility, despite the fact that my duties are much different then that of many other officers. Being who I am, that means you have two choices:" Jacob said, stopping for a moment to hold his hands out as if to somehow physically offer the young marine something.

"You can take the easy and lazy route. Follow some of my simple rules regarding dress code and behavior, as well as orders, and I won't bother you. As long as you do your job and do it well, I don't give a shit about what you do in your free time. You can passively and lazily float through the marines and not do anything meaningful, like many lazy louts that join the marines do, and just be, well, an ordinary cabin guy. Or.... Jacob said, once again pausing as his expression changed from a passive, devil-may-care expression to a more active and encouraging grin.

"Or you can do the work. I won't lie, you will have to shape up and it will not be fun. I wont tolerate severe disobedience: I don't mind you having an opinion, but I sure as fuck wont let you stop what needs to be done because of it. You can drop the rebellious act, start caring, and start making a difference. If I think you can handle it, I'll give you the tools to change yourself and the world around you, and I'll show you something worth fighting for. The responsibility is great, as is the burdens that will come with it, but so are the benefits if you can control yourself. You won't be the bottom rung anymore, and as long as you aren't a total ass about it you'll be someone who marines respect and dare I say love...As long as you do the work. Do that, and I'll vouch for you and show the marines that you do matter and can do great things...Any questions or thoughts? Permission to speak freely granted in advance." Jacob finished, his sly grin still remaining as the vice admiral placed his elbows on the table and brought his hands together in front of his face, watching the marine and waiting for his response.

[Nike Z]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style,width:480px;] my god you are the death of me

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style,width:480px; border-top:8px solid #000;] + 398 words +Jacob + Yay for posts~ + with your reaper gait and scything asthma-- let me welcome you with open arms. Nike listened quietly throughout Jacob’s speech. It wasn’t merely because he was being an obedient marine; he was honestly interested in what Jacob was saying. To Nike, it was extremely obvious that Jacob had no issue with whatever his parentage was. That in itself was an incredible relief to the red head. But there was also a part of the speech that perturbed him. It was the very end, where Jacob gave him a choice. The young marine had no idea which he would prefer to do. On the one hand, it had never been his choice to be a marine; but on the other, he felt an urge to prove people wrong, specifically those who always wrote him off as a punk because of his looks. Granted by this point in what could barely be called a career, he’d come to really not give a shit. This was due entirely to how he was always treated by his superiors and fellow marines. Repeated hazing that was merely ignored, constant rumors isolating him, and excessive discipline for minor infractions. His hair breaking dress regulations had always been a favorite infraction for the superiors to hit him with; despite the fact it was in his file that it would just grow back within a couple of days if cut. Idly, Nike tapped his fingers against the side of his cup. He had permission to speak freely, but he really wasn’t sure what to say. Finally the words in his head began to form into coherent sentences. “Honestly, it’s relieving that you agree what they said about me is bullshit. I doubt really any but the smallest infractions have any real merit. So far every superior I’ve been assigned to has treated me with nothing but disdain, right from day one when my adopted family dumped me with the marines and cut all ties with me,” his voice turned bitter at the mention of his “family”, “When I joined the marines, I was hopeful that I could actually be respected and make some kind of difference. Since then it’s become obvious that so long as I’m so clearly not fully human that is likely to never happen.” He wasn’t trying to sound like an ass, but he had been given permission to speak freely. That and he was pretty much sick of the whole situation and wanted something to change.

made by RIVER! of CTL and OTE