<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/c2/33671584_m.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Geirharður Ingimarsson (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117979#msg12117979)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Interrogation Room, OHSPD Headquarters, Mega City Ohio<br/><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong>1300 1 April 2110<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Officer Akimov (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117688#msg12117688), Francis King (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117902#msg12117902)<br/><strong>Mentioning:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Suit (http://image.dhgate.com/0x0/f2/albu/g2/M01/BD/97/rBVaG1RdulWANSnOAAG0fIlYetk803.jpg)<br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">He had decided not to wear his police uniform to the interview. There was something about a freshly-pressed, crisp clean suit that when assembled neatly made him feel confident and like a professional. As much as he would like to believe that he had nothing to worry about compared to his partner Frank and his colorful personality, the Scandinavian still felt a little apprehensive. He had been standing before the long mirror of the Men’s Public Bathroom, scrutinizing himself. He had a recent shave—his hair and his face—touching up the edges of his blonde hair and smoothing down his facial hair until his angular jaws were as bare as a baby’s backside. There wasn’t a pimple or blemish on his winter face and his suit was symmetrical from his shoulders down to the buffed shoes on his feet. The aroma of frankincense, sandalwood, and mint exuded from him in an invigorating cologne; and <em>still</em> he was doubtful. The one feature that stood out that no matter how much he tried to look away and take no notice of were his eyes.<br/><br/>A rocker of cybernetic light rotated in a tight orbit about his pupils every time they dilated and shifted. He wasn’t ashamed of them—far from, they had given him a new life. How he had acquired them was a question that he was afraid to answer. It was a question that had been on his mind for several days leading up to this interview, and he felt like a fool for trying to convince himself that the recruiter wouldn’t ask him such a question.<br/><br/><em>If I don’t make this…</em> he mused. Then Frank would abandon his dreams for him. It didn’t sound bad at all, but he never wanted to be the excuse for why a man didn’t achieve his ambitions. There were too many stories that started with, “Well, I would have,” or “I was going to but…” Gael hated those stories.<br/><br/>The officer closed his eyes and pinched the corners of them just beneath his brows. If Frank had known that he was getting so worked up over this interview—this interview that he was probably mind-fucking the recruiter with while he drenched his pits in the bathroom…Frank’s interview. The corner of Gael’s mouth quirked humorously before a refreshing bout of laughter bubbled from his throat. Gael eased his head back in mirth and rested a hand upon the counter to steady himself. That guy…<br/><br/>“Fuckin’ idiot,” Gael cursed behind a grin at the thought of him. If Frank got accepted, then he knew he had this cat in the bag. Wait until he saw how Frank was dressed.<br/><br/>With a sigh, Gael no longer was feeling nervous. He was feeling confident again and was prepared to lie through his teeth if he had to. It was his story-weaving that had gotten him this far in his career except that now, he shouldn’t have had to lie anymore. He was who he was: Geirharður Ingimarsson.<br/><br/>He turned from the mirror and walked out of the Men’s Bathroom to head over to the Interrogation Room.<br/><br/>Frank's departure from his interview was nearly as eventful as his arrival as he ran right into the last person he had wanted to see, that person being his partner, Gael.<br/><br/><em>Dammit.</em> <br/><br/>It wasn't that he didn't like the guy, quite the contrary, they were like brothers at this point - hell, they had even made the decision to apply for The Psycho Squad together - but it was the simple fact that Frank didn't want to influence his best friend's own interview, not for a minute, especially seeing that he was just moments away from entering the lion's den. If Frank played it off like it was no big deal, Gael could easily let his guard down, thinking he was safe and that the process was a cakewalk, which it hadn't been at all. Worse still, if he played the serious angle, he could freak the guy out and set him up for a far more stressful exchange with Peter. Therefore, he needed to find a safe middle ground, either that, or he needed to keep the conversation elsewhere, far away from the actual interview process itself or any of its content.<br/><br/>Gael abruptly stopped, and it hadn’t been because Frank had nearly ran him over. His blue eyes were wide and large in shock at his partner’s appearance. His lips even parted a little as his jaw nearly descended in speechless stupefaction.<br/><br/>"Well, look at you," he was quick to remark as he swaggered on up to the taller officer, not caring in the least that he was severely underdressed for the occasion, nor giving his buddy even a second to comment on his own flashy attire. "You went all out, I see, even got yourself a trim <em>and</em> a fresh shave. Very nice," he continued as he reached out and ran a hand along Gael's solid yet soft jawline. "Damn. It's almost like touchin' my own bare bottom," he joked as he withdrew his hand with a playful wink. "New suit too?" he went on as that same hand found its way to Gael's lapel. "You're going to an interview, you know, not a first date," he mused as he let go of the fine fabric.<br/><br/><em>Pete would be lucky to have a guy like you.</em><br/><br/>Taking a step back, Frank flashed a smile, then, without hesitating a moment more, he began to take his leave. The shorter this conversation was, the better. The longer he lingered, the greater chance there was for him to say or do something stupid. "So, drinks tonight at my place?" he asked as he started to back away. "I'll order in some takeout too and, uh, we can compare notes. Cool?" he kept rambling as he continued to put some distance between the two of them.<br/><br/>Gael was gawking.<br/><br/>"By the way, call him sir. He loves that," he offered, in a hushed tone, as he motioned towards the room with a nod of his head. "Oh, and, good luck," he felt compelled to add, not wanting to appear like a total uncaring dick.<br/><br/>When Frank disappeared, Gael’s teeth came together in a brilliant grin that gradually expanded on his face as a hard snicker ground from his nose. Raising a hand to his face, Gael broke into laughter. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed until tears started to roll from his eyes and descend his cheeks. He bent over to rest a hand against the nearby wall.<br/><br/>“I can’t…I can’t fuckin’ breathe,” Gael panted as his guts started to ache. His nostrils flared as he inhaled a great big deep breath and slowly straightened until he was standing upright. His eyes were glittering with tears as he exhaled a breath, his chest deflating. He wiped at the moisture on his face, but couldn’t hide the amused smile that stretched his lips, threatening to send himself into another humorous bout.<br/><br/>“Bloody hell…” Gael muttered. He had done exactly what he had suspected. He raised a hand to his face again, trying to force back the seismic waves of laughter that threatened to leave him again. <em>You fucked me, man. When I go in there, I’m just gonna be laughing as I think of how your fuckin’ interview went. ‘Dressed like you came out of a <em>Queer Gentleman</em>’s magazine.</em><br/><br/>Gael took a few more deep controlled breaths. Fuck! Fuckin’-fuckity-fuck-fuck! He should have made sure he went after Frank’s interview. He could barely hide the smile that quirked every so often on his face.<br/><br/><em>We got this. We got this, mate. Damn it!</em> Gael mentally screamed at himself.<br/><br/>He regained his cool and stepped over to stand before the office door. One last sigh and Gael opened the door to step inside. The first thing that Gael immediately noticed was that the room was hot. What was this a bathhouse? <br/><br/><strong>My name is Peter Akimov. Protocol mandates that all potential applicants are interviewed by the current commander-and-chief of said Group. Seeing as I’m the current leader, I’ll be the one interviewing you for your position on the Max-Tac Operations Group….</strong><br/><br/>Shit. He didn’t even give him a chance to sit down before he started shooting him with the serious talk. Gael stood there before the door, practically like a new cadet. He wasn’t sure whether to take a seat while he was talking or wait until he was ordered to. When Peter finished, there was a few second period of silence before Gael finally decided that now was a good time to take a seat. He walked over to the empty chair and took a seat in front of the man whose cybernetic arm was the first thing his eyes recognized. To Gael’s eyes alone, Peter’s arm lit up in a neon-orange light and a window appeared next to it as his oculars identified it with two words: <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier new;">Nanomacines detected.</span><br/><br/>White lines then began to outline the contours of Peter’s face before a box opened again: <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier new;">Peter Akimov</span>. He knew his name before he even introduced himself and it hadn’t been because his eyes knew everything. His eyes had simply matched his facial information to a familiar man in his memory. Gael remembered learning about him. He didn’t think any candidate would have passed the academy without knowing who Peter Akimov was. It was like regarding a war hero. He couldn’t believe that he was about to get examined by this guy. Who had a résumé that impressive?<br/><br/>“Do you mind if I take my coat off?” Gael asked. He was starting to sweat and thank god it wasn’t due to anxiety.</span>