Gathering Intelligence

[Guest]

Isabella didn’t like how she couldn’t settle in before work started popping up. Still, it was her duty, and she wouldn’t let her own aspirations get in the way of what she’s paid to do. A half-assed job isn’t worth doing, at least not to her. That, and she had had more than enough time to do so. But there were more pressing matters. She needed to know what was happening in West Amestris.

She had sent a runner to find the elusive Sergeant Stuka, requesting that he met her in her new office, in order to discuss anything she'd need to know in order to run her department effectively. And there she waited, wondering what to do with all the open space. “I’ll make it a mess within the week,” she says to herself with a small smile. Luckily, she didn't have much in the way of personal belongings. Her messenger bag contained no pictures of friends or family, no diaries detailing her everyday life. Just some basic clothes, supplies, a few alchemy books, and her notebook, along with pens and pencils. It seemed like a lot when she had to root through her bag for things, but with them laid out on her desk, it seemed pitiful, almost sad in a way.

Picking up the notebook, she opened it up to a fresh page. “Sergeant Stuka,” she wrote on it, trying to remember details about him. Big, trigger-happy, surprisingly fast for his size… She couldn’t recall his face. “That’s normal,” she reminds herself, crossing that out. She had remembered the important details. At least, she hoped so.

Sitting on her desk, she spins the pen between her fingers, having to maneuver it awkwardly to get it past her ring finger. “Now how to deal with him this time around,” she thinks, trying to go over her different options. She’d exhausted all of them last time. “Hopefully he’ll be more stable this time around…” She knew she could hope, but she also knew that fate had a tendency to not care about that.

[Guest]

CRASH!

Pieces of glass scatter as a figure dives into the office, flying overhead Isabella before rolling in front of her desk and springing up to a stand, turning around, brushing off the small glass fragments on his shoulders that somehow, haven't gotten into his skin. Lucky or lucky? That was what Nikolaus was, that, or just skilled, BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY LUCKY.

Anyways, frowning with red veins visible on his eyes, as they are wider than usual, he stared at the woman, charred and blackened finger sticking out of his mouth that he spits to the side, which may have meant Stuka had gotten the 'message' if one knows what is meant! Delicious, delicious message. Blood covering Niko's mouth.

This time, absence of saluting was present, as he looks up, down, left, right, and spins around before stopping to look at her again, nodding and shaking his head, smiling then frowning. Ah, doing all the things he FEELS like doing right now, but yet... not satisfied. Ah well, he had an hour's nap anyways earlier, which makes him feel like crap because he hadn't gotten his sleep JUST YET. Missing his coat and wearing his custom weapons, minus bow. His back facing the door and front facing HER.

"Behold smelly one! For I have eaten the contents of your messenge-- MESSAGE..!" He says, adding, "And arrived and SUMMONED BEFORE THOU! Now what did you want or not want? I was having a Humanitarian hors d'ouvre after my nap."

Though the question was, how'd he manage to leap into a window on the 5th level on a 6 story building? Now THAT'S a mystery!

[Guest]

She watched as he spit some black object from his mouth, wondering if she’d ever see that messenger again. Of course, sanity was too much to ask for. Or coherence. Or logic. This man was making less sense than the physics he might have just ignored. She couldn’t ignore the number of weapons he had on him, though, or the fact that he received a promotion…

Her eyebrow twitched. “Smelly one?” “Eaten?” If she believed in a god, now would be the time she’d pray, because she’d need the help. She looked at him long enough to note his new rank, pondering what damage he caused to earn it. Sighing, she stands at attention and makes eye contact.

“Warrant Officer Stuka,” she says, hesitantly saluting him, but immediately relaxes, looking away from him. He didn’t deserve her effort to make eye contact. “I see you have a… knack for entrances.” She eyed the broken glass on the floor, quickly writing down the damages in her notebook. “If you weren’t too busy, Stuka – do you mind if I call you that, do you? – I’d like to know what you know. I’d like to think that maybe, just maybe, you had a job that you were doing here. You know, besides bursting through windows and shooting civilians.” She decided that skipping pleasantries would be more appropriate this time around. On the off-chance that he showed manners, perhaps she would respond in kind…

“I do have to warn you, Stuka,” she adds, “I will be filing a damage report for that window, and I’d appreciate if you didn’t cause any more damage to my office here.”

[Guest]

"Knack for entrances? Why would you believe I enter like that ALL the time? You have a distorted image of me, Sergeant. It is most disappointing." He questions as if baffled, continuing, "Believe me, if I could steer a tank into this office in the amount of time I had, I would've done it!"

Yep, he definitely asserted that he is indeed sane-ish in his own way, displaying typical bravado characteristics WHEN stealth is not required anyways.

"Erm... job eh? I don't really..." He looks down, frowning, "...have a job right now, I have ABSOLUTELY nothing to do, yep, just bored like a mofo. Great recession and all, considering I already did my stuff and... pretty much DID my purpose-illustrated-by-mein-Fuhrer. Also, I prefer you call me Stu or Niko, either does, BUT NEVER NEKO."

Then he looks back at her, raising an eyebrow of questioning with his penetrating gaze of INQUISITIVENESS. Looking past her to see the window, and back to her afterwards.

"That's not damage on your window, that's just the impression of damage, you just think that it's damage because..." He breathes in, BURSTING OUT, "THAT'S WHAT ALCONQUISO WANTS YOU TO THINK! Young hibber-hobber! Don't let the enemy arouse you into suspicion on your own allies! Band up with me and we shall hunt them down once more! I hear they are dressed up as farmers, and I plan to liberate the farmlands from the Alconquiso tyranny in search of secret super weapons, care to join? After all, I DID get a promotion for foiling Alconquiso plots on Amestrian homeland security."

[Guest]

“Lacking in subtlety,” she wrote in her notebook, finding it nice that she had something to do while staying still. “Might be from Central,” she added.

Is this guy from Central? If so, then that’s just great… She doubted he was under direct command from the Furher, but, then again, everyone in the military, in a sense, is. But this man didn’t seem fit for the job he was given. Sure, in an abstract way, one could argue his logic was correct. But this reality didn’t follow that line of abstract thought. Then again, maybe those were qualifications for working in Central.

She felt like she was being stared at. Maybe she should look to check? No, no… She’d be fine without looking.

“It’ Sergeant Major, now,” she corrects him, pointing to her new insignia. “I got it for the same reasons you did, apparently.” She was surprised she got one at all. Perhaps her spin on the entire matter had actually worked. Or maybe it was a bribe of sorts. Still, he was offering another “mission” to her.

Part of her thought it to be a bluff, like he didn’t want her to prod into his job or duties. Then again, he could be telling the truth, or at least what he believes to be the truth. His truth. His strange, twisted version of the truth.

“I think I actually would be interested in helping you on this,” she says with a grin. She was hoping to call his bluff, but, then again, he could be telling the truth. His truth. Whatever that might be.

[Guest]

"Don't you mean it's instead of it? Or wait... am I really the one who is mistaken here? Coulditbemylifehasbeenalieentirelyandthatmyimpetousnesshasblindedmetothetruth?" He says to which says shrinks to a mumble, feeling doubt then after her next statement...

He clapped, ONCE. Gleefully content, or contently gleeful, and also mired with a tint of abstract concentration upon the vocabularium of her speakium. Then, he had recalled something! The upcoming festival, to which reaching out of his pocket, Nikolaus flings it at Isabella a prettiest of pretty envelope. Though his fling wasn't exactly the slowest, it was more like a shuriken launched to pierce her! By accident. Guess he doesn't know his own strength when he doesn't know his own strength. Fun times indeed, paper cuts taken to extremes IF it did pierece, but ah well, survival is the price of getting an invitation if one... SURVIVES.

"Righteous, well Sergeant Major Fraulein the Minor, we got a super special invitation to a carnal mortal of incurious of nefarious carnivals," He states in a jovial tone, oblivious to her true mood, "AND I think Alconquiso may strike there next with the same group of fatties, so we get to boogey AND fight the Alconquiso at the same time! It's like a get a two for one deal, just like Warumart! Wonderbar isn't it?"

Tilting head a bit to the right, "We caaaaan get a promotion, you know? It will just be... unpossible!"

[Guest]

Not expecting it to be thrown at her, she winced slightly as the envelope hit her shoulder. “Possibly suffers from occasional short-term memory loss. Likes to throw things?” She pauses for a moment. “Watch out if he has explosives.” She underlines that last part a few more times for emphasis. Looking down at the envelope as it lies motionless on the floor, she tilts her head. It seemed so familiar…

Closing her book and turning around, she roots through a small pile of mail she had brought in with her. Soon, she finds what she was looking for: an identical envelope. While carefully opening it, she glances over at Stuka, noting that he had successfully changed the topic. Although she wouldn’t have to worry about awkwardly forcing the conversation back towards the farmers and whatnot, she hoped she wouldn’t forget.

Finally opening the envelope after using her painstakingly careful paper cut-free method, she opens the invitation and reads it. A few moments later, she folds it back up and slides it onto the desk, frowning. “Well, being blackmailed to go to a carnival is certainly a new experience,” she comments to Stuka. “Bright lights, lots of people, small children and their tiny hands, and lots of noises bombarding me from all directions…” She shakes her head in an effort to drive out the thoughts. “Though if I’m getting an invitation, I’d assume that other members of the military are too. Which means…” Isabella sighed. He actually had a point, whether he meant to make one or not. And although she was interested in promotions, it was just a means to an end to her own goal in the long run. Still, the important part was getting recognized.

“So,” she says, picking up her book and writing down the details given to her about the carnival, “it seems as though I’ll be attending. Though I must commend your ‘sharp’ instincts for spotting a potential terrorist target.” She gave a slight smirk, having been glad to have learned both the concept and application of subtlety some years back. It was fun on occasion. "And promotions are also nice. Though, I imagine you'd have to come up with an alternative to your ;shoot everyone in sight' tactic." She laughed at that. Tactic.

[Guest]

Whilst she reached her diddly doodly hand into the envelope, Nikolaus sneaked his into his pockets, pulling out what appears to be a container of some sort, small, with a needle like thing pointing out to which he brings it into his nostrils and sniffs it deeply, eyes diluting before placing it back, shaking his head as if he was trying to stay awake with a satisfied sigh, throwing head back in a jerk, shivering before bringing his gaze back to her, pocketing the container. Queue blackmail statement.

"That's Commander Spade for ya, he is our lazy and useless drunkard leader of Central, aside from the Fuhrer President, kind of weird that our Fuhrer's tend to wear eye-patches though like some other Fuhrers of the past. I smell a conspiracy abound with them wearers of eye-patches." My my, he actually said a statement that wasn't... incoherent, continuing after hearing her banter, perhaps sanity regained upon sniffing the powder? "Ja ja, we got the shit of the military clumped up with the popular personalities around, it'll be a wonderful disaster, chaotic granted, but a tune I prefer nonetheless!"

Or maybe not...

"Damn right I do, my guns are let's say... restricted at the time, I am not allowed to use them which ails and aches every fibre of my BEING." Nikolaus scowls with dread, "BUT as you should know, Fraulein, I HAVE a plan, I guess using cotton candy as weapons will do, since I AM the cotton candy and popcorn vendor, curses to whoever assigned me to the position!"

So now, he wanes off into explanation mode, where he'd give a vivid detail of his backstory as typical of all anime-based characters to give them more depth into their lives and to inspire pity/hate/love/sympathy/farts-with-funny-features.

"As a warrior of my abilities should be able to make a weapon out of candies made of cotton, like that time back at Briggs, I had to use a toothpick to kill a squirrel, and indeed that was a most terrifying battle that almost cost my life, I mean have you ever fought a Briggs mountain squirrel? Those fuckers can really put up a fight, being the third leading cause of death that..." *An hour later of explanations over his tragic/not-really-tragic-but-labeled-tragic-for-the-hell-of-it backstory* "...And THAT was the secrets to the universe, meaning to life, power and how it was hidden from the public's eyes. Those retarded slimeball proletarian masses."

Maybe sane was going far a stretch, less insane will do in his current state. Ah well.

"So are you ready to hussle? Those Alconquiso motherfuckers WILL be there, and we'll be ready with an assfuck of promotion handed down to us, maybe a pay raise." Stuka reminds her with some subtle sense of haste, "Which means it'll take us a week to get to Central on train, I am not paying for any fares on an aerocraft, and trains are free for us military personnel... well! I am glad you agreed, meet you by the train, Fraulein."

So, he turns around, wipes the blood off his mouth by soaking it into the gloves of his hand, opens the door, and makes way out of the building, leaving the glass riddled office of Sergeant Major Isabella. Fun times indeed. Too bad he didn't wait for her to agree on popping up on a train or anything, ah well.

[EXIT]

[Aurelius Schwartz]

Tell me when a thread ends, please.

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