[The Broken City] | Interviews
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Inferior Rabbit on 02-03-2016, 16:42:47</h2>
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				Title: <strong>[The Broken City] | Interviews</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Inferior Rabbit</strong> on <strong>02-03-2016, 16:42:47</strong>
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				<br><div style="text-align: left;">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The room was cramped, and empty for that matter save for Peter, two chairs, a table, and the one-way mirror that was typically used by lawyers and commanding officers. This was an interrogation room, the design being made for psychological warfare. It was perfect at making someone feel isolated, as though the only way out was to scream the truth at the top of your lungs. Peter has seen his own share of interrogations, watching as the experts used a person’s desires and fears to overpower their subject’s will, and have them tearfully confess to the crime. Peter didn’t have the mind for it, hell he didn’t have the mind for an interview. Yet here he was, getting ready to interview applicants. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The former bomb-tech was dressed casually, stripped of his coat due to the heat of the room. It had poor circulation, and he had begun to sweat within five minutes of sitting down. He wore jeans on top of his regular boots, with a tank-top emblazoned with Ohio’s football team, the “Ohio Buckeyes.” His false arm was bare, along with the scars that came from the burns and surgery. Around the arm, where it was planted at the shoulder, ragged scars formed, the veins beneath black with their connection between the new nerves in his shoulder, and the arm itself. It was detachable, of course. It was hard sleeping with metal attached to him.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; He peered around at the unwelcome setting, frustrated that they couldn’t simply give him an empty office. The building was huge, yet they told him there wasn’t one single room they could put a table and some chairs in? He sighed, drawing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket as he fingered the empty ashtray in front of him. With that being said, he did kind of appreciate the claustrophobic tone the room set. It helped to establish the tone of these interviews, and make them realize that this was more than a simple promotion, it was a decision you were making with your life. A gamble, if they wanted to call it. They’d be gambling their lives in combat every operation, where anything can happen. It needed to be taken seriously, and if they didn’t approach this with the right attitude, then Peter was liable to flat out deny them. He wouldn’t put lives in the hands of someone who he didn’t think could handle the pressure.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Flicking the zippo(another relic from the old world his grandfather left him), he lit the cigarette and set the pack down in case the subjects wanted to take one. It was synthetic tobacco of course, as real tobacco became an extremely rare commodity due to it being shoved aside agriculturally, in favor of real food. Aside from the ashtray and cigarettes, there was also a recorder, and a stack of files. Curious, Peter picked a file and leafed through it. All of these people would be coming to see him in a few minutes, applying to the Psycho Squad.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The door opened, and Peter’s eyes flicked up to the applicant.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “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. I’ve been a member of the OHSPD for thirteen years now, the first four of those years spent as a technician on the bomb-disposal unit, and the next nine with the Psyc- Max-Tac group.” He wasn’t supposed to call it the Psycho Squad. While everyone called it that, this was supposed to be as formal as possible. Enough of the fucking introductions. He inhaled the cigarette, then blew the smoke. <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Due to the nature of this interview, I’m supposed to record it for later analysis. Before I start recording, and begin the questions, do you have any questions or comments, personal or professional to ask off the record? Courtesy.” Peter offered, staring them in the face.</div>
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				Title: <strong>Officer King's Interview</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Twisted iN Tux</strong> on <strong>06-03-2016, 00:35:07</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a9/Ref_A.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Francis King (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117902#msg12117902)<br><strong>Location:</strong> Interrogation Room, OHSPD Headquarters, Mega City Ohio, USoA <br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> Promptly at Noon on the 1st of April, 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Officer Akimov (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117688#msg12117688)<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> Officer Ingimarsson (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117979#msg12117979)<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> This (https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0a/Undercover_1.1.jpg)<br><hr><br>Frank's arrival to his interview was far from how he had imagined it even a day or so ago and it was all thanks to his current assignment, which had managed to leave him with mere moments to mentally prepare and zero time to change. The task at hand, an undercover drug sting, had nearly consumed his every waking hour for the last two weeks. Therefore, he entered the sparse interrogation room fully dressed behind the colorful - to say the least - guise of his Jaxx persona. Could he have taken the time to change or, worse still, dared to submit a request to reschedule? Sure. But at the bare minimum, it would've meant he would've been late, which was totally acceptable. That showed a lack of respect and, as far as the young officer was concerned, a level of irresponsibility he couldn't even begin to wrap his professional-centric head around. On the other end of the spectrum, it would've meant scads of unnecessary paperwork and, more than likely, additional days, if not weeks, of waiting. These interviews weren't easy to come by, not in the least, so it was either this or nothing at all. There was no room to wiggle, no grey area to dawdle in, and certainly no time to change.<br><br><em>Why couldn't I have been on an operation as Curtis?</em> he thought as he crossed the small chamber, picturing himself all booted and suited up as the cunty corporate spy. <br><br>"It's a honor, Office Akimov," he offered as he made a move to take the empty seat, hesitating only for the briefest of moments as he struggled with the small detail of removing his full-length, genuine leather and seal skin fur. In the end, he let the heavy, trademark garment remain in its place, regardless of the fact that he was already feeling a fine layer of sweat taking shape within the pits of his arms. Stripping it off would've only left him in his low-rise, skin-tight jeans and thick-soled combat boots. He already felt more than a little ballsy what with his crimson-tinted eyes, numerous facial mods, and equally elaborate tattooed torso on display. There was no need to give his potential commanding officer any more of a show than he was already being treated, er, subjected to. "My apologies, sir," he made certain to add, with a wave of one hand at his attire, as the other respectfully removed his wool skull cap and placed it on the table before him, revealing his regulation trimmed head of brown-black hair. "I've been working a gang of head hunters for the last few weeks and just yesterday morning I unlocked a credible lead. I couldn't run the risk of letting it go cold, not even for the sake of this interview."<br><br><em>Regardless of the fact that Gael had told me it was a bad idea</em>, he mused as his thoughts briefly went to his partner who was more than likely primping and prepping for his own interview that was to take place later today. <br><br>Feeling that that was all the explanation that was needed, Frank took a moment to ponder the man's offer of an off-the-record question or comment. Did he really have anything that he needed to ask or say that couldn't be part of his official transcript? Not that he could think of. He knew Officer Akimov's story well enough. Hell, who among the department didn't know the man's harrowing tale? The epic event was gaining enough momentum that it was either going to go down in the history books as a defining moment for the OHSPD or, better still, an unequivocal turning point for the whole of humankind.<br><br>"Proceed," he ended up offering as a simple reply as he straightened himself up in his chair. It was so easy to lose himself in his current state of dress. When he assumed the role of Jaxx he became a cocky and conceited dickwad - to put it plainly - who probably would've had his feet kicked up on the table at this point, with a stim stick dangling from his mouth, a toxic colored drink in one hand, and, well, his fully erect piece in the other, and by piece that didn't mean his trusty Archer &amp; Wesson or Shock Jock. Yeah. No. This particular piece was the fleshy pride and joy that resided between his toned thighs, which he lavished more than a little attention upon nearly ten times a day.<br><br><em>Damn, could I go for a long toss just about now</em>, he pondered, as he waited for the officer to continue, before quickly chastising himself. <em>Focus Frank, focus. This is too damn important. Gael will have your balls if you blow this...not that that would be a bad thing, per say, but still! Focus!</em>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [The Broken City] | Interviews</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Inferior Rabbit</strong> on <strong>08-03-2016, 15:35:29</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1066.photobucket.com/albums/u416/InferiorRabbit/PeterAkimov.jpg)</div><strong>Peter Akimov</strong>:<br><strong>Location:</strong> OHSPD Interrogation Room<br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> 12:02 PM, April 11th 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Officer Frank<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> Gael, Frank<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> Coat (https://img0.etsystatic.com/023/0/5585742/il_340x270.548268796_gxhw.jpg)<br><hr><br>Peter was still trying to decide whether this was a joke or not, looking at the man that sat opposite of him. He tapped some ashes into the tray, his eyes burrowing into Frank's. He had his file in front of him, and while the man was... eccentric to say the least, he definitely had quite the record. It coincided with a fellow applicant named Gael, who had apparently been his partner. The two had a shared history of success within the OHSPD, which made them prime candidates for the Psycho Squad, if Peter could get past Frank's obvious quirks. His unique skill set would give Max-Tac a particularly useful knowledge of the streets, and give various connections that could be used to follow groups of interest. <br><br>The commander growled with a puff of smoke, pinching the end of the cigarette with his metal fingertips, and setting it down in the tray. "Alright, I'll allow it, as long as you promise to put a shirt on after this. Christ." Peter grumbled, leafing through his records in an effort to avert his eyes. He didn't care for Frank's attire. If Peter was hot in the room, then he must be on fire in that leather coat. Another thought. "Also, none of that 'sir' and honor crap. We're not the police, or military, Max-Tac operates above the typical work of the police department. So there's no need to talk like a boy scout. Just call me Peter, Pete, Boss, or any name you come up with that won't give me a conniption. Get it? Got it? Good. Now, let's get this show on the road." He was a hard-ass, but having his recruits call him Peter would work in their favor. He didn't want to give the impression of being a leader. Rather, he was simply there to serve as an experienced team member, and a connection between the Squad, and the few people they did answer to. Mainly, the commissioner and the High Council themselves.<br><br>With a tap of the record button, the machine's red light came to life, recording both video and audio. "This is Max-Tac Operations Commander Peter Akimov, beginning applicant interview one, with Frank King. It is April 11th, 2110 and the time is... 12:02 in the afternoon." He turned his eyes to Frank. If anyone else had shown up dressed like that, he would've said no outright. However, dedication to his job was somewhat admirable... even if it made Peter want to facepalm. <br><br>"From what I read, you and your partner Geirhar... fuck it, 'Gael' Ingimarsson have quite the history together. You vouched for his assignment in the Police Department, and shortly after the two of you became partners. Both of your records are quite impressive, and are partly the reason why I've chosen you two as potentials. My question is, what made you apply? It's a dangerous assignment, you must of had second thoughts. You know what happened a few months ago after all." Peter shrugged his arm, indicating his point. "If it were me, I wouldn't of applied simply because my partner did. Is that the case?"<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [The Broken City] | Interviews</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Amarlo</strong> on <strong>08-03-2016, 18:03:28</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://img15.deviantart.net/26da/i/2012/171/9/8/i_won__t_let_go_by_triztaess-d53dall.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Allyk Dog (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12122225#msg12122225)<br><strong>Location:</strong> Interrogation Room, OHSPD Headquarters, Mega City Ohio, USoA <br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> 5:00 pm, April 1st, 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Akimov (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117688#msg12117688)<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> --<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> Standard Issue (http://i.imgur.com/6Xfuope.jpg) – without the headset.<br><hr>"Current leader?" A woman snorted as she entered the room, tucking the door closed quietly behind her. "Someone else tryin'a take yer position, Commander?" A slender brow lofted, the little grin that tugged at her pale lips displaying a sort of cocky mirth that didn't at all seem fitting for the current situation. She wasn't really properly dressed for an interview either - nothing like Big pimpin' Francis King had been when he had his interview earlier, mind you - but she wasn't wearing any pencil skirts either. She sported the standard issue coveralls of her current <del>hobby</del> career. <br><br>"I’m not interested in working for anyone that thinks he’s expendable.” The white haired woman stated as she approached the desk Peter currently sat at. ”Dog, Allyk Dog.” She offered slender, unassuming hand to the man and should he take it he’d find the woman’s grip unusually strong and firm for someone so … tiny. Either way, take it or not, she was eventually settling back into the seat across from him, one knee folding over the other as she leaned back almost lazily with a smile to match. ”Let’s be honest, Command. <i>Nothing</i> is ever off record.” She chuckled quietly, rolling her eyes to the ceiling with a vague sense of annoyance. <br><br>People in law enforcement were watched like hawks – anything for the propaganda wagon, right?<br><br>”But I do have some comments and questions.” She admitted, momentarily distracted as she fiddled with one of the buckles of her combat boots. ”Why do you make it all seem so trivial?” She shot him a glance, both brows raised with interest. ”You’re like some living broken record – You’ve repeated yourself so many times there’s no <i>life</i> to your voice anymore.” Where was the passion? The <i>drive</i>? What kept him getting up every morning? What had him coming to work every day? <br><br>”Let me ask you something, Mr. Akimov. Why do you wake up every morning?” Allyk sat up in her seat then, leaning forward sluggishly as her elbows came to rest at the ledge of the table, giving her chin a place to settle as it lowered into the base of her right palm – head inclined. ”Why did you take this job? -&nbsp; Why did you become a member of the bomb squad all those years ago?&nbsp; Especially when he had a very nice sum of cash in his bank account that pretty much guaranteed he didn't actually have to work hard or take such risks. "Why did you did you decide you go into Max-Tac? And why did you stay after what happened to your comrades?” After being dragged through all the mud and gunk and piles upon piles of shit. ”Why are you still here?” Now just who exactly was interviewing whom here? 
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				Title: <strong>Re: [The Broken City] | Interviews</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Inferior Rabbit</strong> on <strong>08-03-2016, 20:54:10</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1066.photobucket.com/albums/u416/InferiorRabbit/PeterAkimov.jpg)</div><strong>Peter Akimov</strong>:<br><strong>Location:</strong> OHSPD Interrogation Room<br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> 5:05 PM, April 11th 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Officer Dog<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> Dog, Frank<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> Coat (https://img0.etsystatic.com/023/0/5585742/il_340x270.548268796_gxhw.jpg)<br><hr><br>Peter was clenching his jaw, trying to maintain his composure as the woman began to talk with a tone that was already beginning to grate on his nerves, and make him want show her just how much of an asshole he can be. Her comment was fair, regarding his current position as head. It was true, he could be taken off at anytime. If the police found out he was suffering from all sorts of mental issues since the explosion, he'd be gone. If they found out that he was a borderline alcoholic, they'd give him the boot. This job was given to him because of his experience, and knowledge on how laws regarding nanomachines work. Peter wasn't "expendable" as she put it, but rather he was as much of an asset as he was a liability. Similar to this woman, who he knew had a fairly sordid past. <br><br>He got the feeling she loved pushing people's buttons, as he raised his prosthetic hand to shake hers. Peter's favorite kind of person. "Oh joy." Peter grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd need a cigarette if he was going to get through this. The Commander went for another one, drawing it from the box as she told him about her own questions and comments. Oh, this ought to be good. His hard eyes glanced back up at her, Peter's tired eyes meeting Dog's intense ones. He could see something explosive behind them, though he couldn't say how. Good thing he used to be a bomb tech back in the day.<br><br>"Why do you make it all seem so trivial?"<br><br>The question made him flinch, his brow furrowed as he gave her a glare that could burn a hole through her, hoping it was a bad joke. He'd hardly call all this trivial. He was trying to rebuild a team that was once composed of his friends, only to be killed by an explosion. He had half the mind to kick her out the door, before he kicked her ass. Peter kept his composure once more though, knowing that part of the job was swallowing his anger. <br><br>"Why do you wake up every morning?"<br><br>"Because I go to sleep every night." He snapped back with the cigarette on his lips. He opened her file. <br><br>"Why are you still here?"<br><br>He asked himself that question every minute, of every day. Why did he live when the others died? Margo had a husband and child at home, a family that loved her more than there were stars in the sky. Jakob was a singer before he joined the OHSPD, and he was one of Peter's best friends on the force. Lily would always invite Peter to their group outings, when instead he would've been sitting alone at home. All these people, who he cared so much for, were dead, and he was replacing them. He came because he didn't want to make their sacrifice worth nothing. He wanted to make their deaths mean something. The thought made him sick, so he didn't care to think on it much longer.<br><br>"I'm here because we need someone to put this shit pile back together, and they deemed me the one to do it. As for all your other questions, we'll just keep it short, and say it ain't none of your goddamn business. Question time is over." Peter rumbled, looking away from dog as he went to the recorder. "This is Max-Tac Operations Commander Peter Akimov, beginning applicant interview five, with Allyk Dog. It is April 11th, 2110 and the time is 5:05 in the evening." He cleared his throat, leafing through her background.<br><br>"I read through the story we've pieced together, and I can't really see a reason for you to like police. Sure, they offered you... forgiveness, but no part of it would require you to join Max-Tac. Why are you applying for something that could potentially kill you?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: [The Broken City] | Interviews</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Amarlo</strong> on <strong>08-03-2016, 21:54:49</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://img15.deviantart.net/26da/i/2012/171/9/8/i_won__t_let_go_by_triztaess-d53dall.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Allyk Dog (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12122225#msg12122225)<br><strong>Location:</strong> Interrogation Room, OHSPD Headquarters, Mega City Ohio, USoA <br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> 5:00 pm, April 1st, 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Akimov (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117688#msg12117688)<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> --<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> Standard Issue (http://i.imgur.com/6Xfuope.jpg) – without the headset.<br><hr>Dog smirked inwardly as the man snapped at her. Suddenly she found herself taking a liking to him. The man had bite and she found that <i>exciting</i>. All of these damn pencil pusher, pale faced, stoic management types were boring as hell - Akimov though... If he wasn't entertaining he'd probably piss her off - passion didn't have to be a possitive emotion and for Allyk fuel was fuel. She liked to stoke that fire as often as possible, it kept her feeling <i>alive</i> and present. It made the world around her still feel <i>real</i>. <br><br><em>"Because I go to sleep every night."</em><br><br>And Allyk did grin at that one, a mischievous <i>spice</i> quirking at the right corner pale unpainted lips, turning the grin somewhat lopsided. Oh yes, she liked this one. He was a <i>smartass</i>, and she fancied smartasses so much more than <i>dumbasses</i>. At least he didn't give her some bureaucratic bullshit response and that spoke volumes to her. Not many got the method to her madness, because in all honesty most people focused on the madness part more than the little undertones behind it, but there were still methods to just about every single thing she did. <br><br><em>"I'm here because we need someone to put this shit pile back together, and they deemed me the one to do it. As for all your other questions, we'll just keep it short, and say it ain't none of your goddamn business. Question time is over."</em><br><br>Despite herself, that wiped the smile from her face and she schooled her features accordingly - sitting up straight in her seat again as she went straight to business just like he wanted. That didn't change the fact that her gaze subtly glimmered with carefully restrained curiosity. "Sure thing, Bossman." She nodded, folding her hands within her lap as she left him to lead this how he saw fit. Perhaps she'd find a chance to ask him more questions later. <br><br>"Really?" Allyk blinked, a short laugh escaping her. "Doesn't it also say I've been a part of the police force in one way or another for the last 11 years?" She glanced to the file he had spread before him, half tempted to sit up in her seat and give it a glance over herself. "They didn't offer me <i>forgiveness</i>, Boss." She snorted, shaking her head to herself. The police never offered forgiveness, that wasn't their job, nor was it in them to forgive <i>anything</i> - just like her. "They offered me <i>redemption</i> - A chance to make good on all the shit I'd done." Incidentally, they sort of added to her list of sins in the process, but she wasn't about to start bitching about that now.<br><br>"Kill me? Akimov, I grew in The Narrows and I have been an officer for 11 years." And suddenly she'd grown <i>very</i> serious. "I've been shot, stabbed and broken more bones than I can keep count, witnessed more deaths than a slaughter house." She frowned minutely, that fire still brimming in her obsidian hues. "I've buried more family and comrades - <i>friends</i> - than I'd ever like to think about. If you honestly think that my own death was ever a real consideration in this application then I might have to question your own motives, Sir." She definitely wasn't impressed with the question. <br><br>"I didn't apply for Max-Tac because of any notion or reality of death, but despite it. It's a part of the job - it's a terrible part of the job, but a part of it nonetheless." Yes, she hated it, but that was how it was. If Peter thought she hadn't seen her fair share of loss then he was asinine. For his benefit, she assumed otherwise for now. <br><br>"However, if by your previous question you mean 'Why did you apply for this position', then that's simple. <i>I want this job.</i>" Not once did her gaze leave his own, nor was she fidgeting as she spoke. As a matter of fact it seemed like he held her <i>full unadulterated attention</i> right now. "I want to do something more with my life and skills than chase down thieves, druggies and abusive pricks every day. I've done that long enough, there's no more room for growth there. Your squad presents a chance for me to challenge myself and grow." And it really came down to that. She could probably write an essay on why she wanted to join in reality, but that was the simplified version of it all. 
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				Title: <strong>Officer King's Interview</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Twisted iN Tux</strong> on <strong>13-03-2016, 01:54:56</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a9/Ref_A.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Francis King (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117902#msg12117902)<br><strong>Location:</strong> Interrogation Room, OHSPD Headquarters, Mega City Ohio, USoA <br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> Around Noon on the 1st of April, 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Officer Akimov (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117688#msg12117688)<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> Officer Ingimarsson (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117979#msg12117979)<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> This (https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0a/Undercover_1.1.jpg)<br><hr><br>Up until this very moment, Frank had only ever seen Officer Akimov from afar, be it from across the vast office space that they occasionally worked within or on vid screens during his countless interviews after 'The Incident.' He had to admit, while the guy was much better looking up close and in person, he was certainly just as rough around the edges as everyone had said he was, possibly even more so. Perhaps having his entire team killed around him was the cause for such brooding hostility or maybe, just maybe, Peter had been born this way with a barbed stick stuck deep up inside his ass. Either way, he kind of liked the guy more than he had planned to. He could appreciate his blunt directness. There would be no second guessing where he was coming from or what would be needed from the team. <br><br>There didn't appear to be a lot of grey in Akimov's world.<br><br>"Pete it is," Frank acknowledged, with a nod of his head, as he spread the opening of his heavy coat just a tad bit more, all in an effort to give his upper body a chance to breath. Exposed skin or not, he was starting to perspire all over. "I applied <em>because</em> of what happened," he began to explain. "I don't need to tell you what sort of blow that event was to both the force and, well, humanity itself. As far as I'm concerned, it was a tipping point, and not for the better. Therefore, what I can tell you is that my partner and I are ready to make a difference, and not in some small or insignificant way. We're good together, like damn good, so that's why we applied at the same time. Now that's not to say that we can't stand on our own two feet, we can, but we each bring something different to the table. So what you'll get from one of us will definitely be different than what you'll get from the two of us together. Just keep that in mind. Alone, we're good, both really solid officers that you can rely on, but together, we're great, like off the charts, kickass awesome."<br><br>"But if you end up only taking one of us, go with Gael."<br><br>"He's a much better shot."&nbsp; &nbsp;
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [The Broken City] | Interviews</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Inferior Rabbit</strong> on <strong>14-03-2016, 17:35:42</strong>
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				<br><div class="floatleft">(http://i1066.photobucket.com/albums/u416/InferiorRabbit/PeterAkimov.jpg)</div><strong>Peter Akimov</strong>:<br><strong>Location:</strong> OHSPD Interrogation Room<br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> 5:05 PM, April 11th 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Officer Dog<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> Dog, Frank<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> Coat (https://img0.etsystatic.com/023/0/5585742/il_340x270.548268796_gxhw.jpg)<br><hr><br>Peter grit his teeth, growling as she went on with the fairly snappy comebacks. Oh, she'd be a joy to have on the team indeed. She didn't like the question, clearly, assuming that Peter was just presuming a lot about her. While that was true, it didn't have anything to do with the questions he crafted for the applicants. Each interview was suited to each applicant, but Dog didn't know that. He would try to be patient with her on this point. As patient as someone like Peter could possibly be anyways. Patient was a relative term to him, really.<br><br>"Well, don't let me stop you from keeping those questions to yourself." Peter grumbled. She didn't need to question his motivations, since she was the one being interviewed. He fiddled with the cigarette in his hand and listened intently as she went on to explain her motivations in joining the squad. They made a fair bit of sense, and he'd admit that he didn't peg her for someone who had such noble intentions in joining the squad. It was the right answer, and he was at least glad that she was taking this interview a bit more seriously when the recorder clicked on. He put the cigarette out, and sighed with a breath of smoke, his steely eyes watching her own.<br><br>"First off, don't call me boss or sir. I told Frank earlier, we may look like military, but we're not. It's annoying as fuck, and serves no purpose. Call me Peter, Pete, or whatever name you make up. Just don't make it give me an aneurysm with it, Christ." He closed the file and dropped it on the desk, leaning forward. "As for your motivations, that was a good answer. Albeit a bit crazy. Not many people would consider going up against Psychos and terrorists a chance to broaden your horizons. You seem like someone that can handle yourself though, so I'll allow it. Your history with the force proves that there's a method to your madness, and fucking maddening way of talking to people proves that you're smart enough to know that this job is definitely going to challenge you. I hope you're a glutton for punishment, which brings me to my next bit," he touched the recorder to stop recording,"off the record." Peter leaned back, fiddling with his fingers as he talked, trying to keep comfortable in the stifling room. <br><br>"There was a particular case that occurred two or three years ago, happening in the lower parts of the posh section of Ohio Sector. We detected a disturbance in the atmosphere over that area, a hole in it. It's a typical sign of a psycho materializing on the ground. Of course we got boots on the ground within the hour, and after a bit of sniffing around we isolated it to a small house. The family inside was reluctant to let us in, for reasons you'll soon find. After a while, the mother broke down into tears and told us everything. Their daughter was deathly ill, with something they've never seen or heard of. Me and the current boss went upstairs to the daughters room, guns drawn." He paused, rolling around the memory with a profound apathy. "Her veins were black with nanomachines, her limbs shriveled like she hadn't eaten in weeks, and her hair had fallen out from the roots.<br><br>"The parents hadn't called the police, because they were afraid we'd kill her. They thought she was a Psycho. They were half-right. She was in the process of becoming a Psycho. It was eating away at her, trying to assimilate her but for whatever reason it wasn't taking. Something about her body, or her genes perhaps, was able to ward off and halt the process. Unfortunately though, it wasn't strong enough to stop them though. She was stuck in that state, unable to do anything. That wasn't even the worst part." He rolled up the sleeve of his actual arm, and fingered a spot that looked like a ragged burn scar, but was unique in that it seemed as though some skin was still missing. "That was from touching her. The nanomachines couldn't eat her, so they were eating anything that came within a meter of her. The captain got marked on the leg to the point he had to go to the hospital afterwards. The parents had it even worse, the husbands arm looked like he stuck it into a furnace full of ants.<br><br>"No one wanted to say anything about the girl, because we all knew what had to be done. There was no none cure for psychos, let alone this. She was in so much pain, and there was no way for her to get back the matter she lost, without the nanomachines pushing back. Who was to say that they wouldn't progress further if anyone tried to treat her? We didn't say anything, and just listened to the commander. He ordered us all to draw straws, himself included. My friend Johnny ended up shortest. He had to go upstairs, and..." He said nothing after that, instead just drawing the revolver from his waist so that he could place it on the table, a silent note of what his friend had to do to that girl. "None of us said anything, save for the commander. Johnny came back downstairs, obviously damaged from it, and expecting to have to face the parents. Commander took full responsibility, and we were sent out of there just as the clean-up crew came." He scratched his head, finishing the story on a sour note.<br><br>"You're wondering why I'm telling you this, why I turned off the recorder, and so on. Well, it's because this question is important if I'm going to rely on you to help me run this operation. It's the responsibility of the operative to the follow the orders they're given to the letter, and it's the commander's responsibility to assume all responsibility for these actions, including the guilt. All of us are going to have to do things that we aren't proud of, things that will keep us up at night. Trading one evil for another lesser one. Ten lives, or a hundred? One child, or a thousand more? Your own life, or the entire city?" His piercing eyes hadn't left hers for the entirety of their interview. "We will make decisions that can potentially break us. As a unit, as a public presence, and most of all, as people. You can't do these tasks, without sacrificing a bit of yourself each time you do them. At the same time though, I won't have you forsake your humanity, and your morality. It's what seperates us from Military. We're humans, not machines. So answer me this. Are you ready to follow orders that will test you as a person?<br><br>"How you answer will determine your placement. If you answer wrong, or know you can't handle it, I'll have you reassigned to anywhere you like, no questions asked."<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [The Broken City] | Interviews</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Inferior Rabbit</strong> on <strong>14-03-2016, 18:09:50</strong>
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				<br><div class="floatleft">(http://i1066.photobucket.com/albums/u416/InferiorRabbit/PeterAkimov.jpg)</div><strong>Peter Akimov</strong>:<br><strong>Location:</strong> OHSPD Interrogation Room<br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> Noon, April 11th 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Officer King<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> Gael<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> Coat (https://img0.etsystatic.com/023/0/5585742/il_340x270.548268796_gxhw.jpg)<br><hr><br>Peter quietly scoffed when Frank gave him their reasons for joining up. It wasn't meant as an insult to him or his friend, no far from it. Though he wouldn't admit it, it was admirable that the two stepped up to the plate when the Psycho Squad needed it most. It took serious balls to be ready to face something like PSYCHO-ALPHA after it took out so many people. It was just that, in a morbid way, he found it amusing that there was a bright spot to the death of his team. So many people, willing to trust their lives to him, the one guy that survived the attack and constantly contemplated resigning from the Squad when he woke up from the nightmares. It was a hard life they were in for.<br><br>"Alright." He growled, taking down notes as he thought about his questions for Gael. He'd definitely talk to him about Frank as well. "So you're looking to make a difference. Aren't we fuckin' all?" Peter murmured, scratching his nose as he scanned his file. "I wouldn't worry about one of you not getting accepted. Establishing bonds is important to a unit, and if you two work well together, then you two will definitely be something that's brought in together." He reassured him, shaking his head as he leafed through Gael's file. "So you can stop glorifying your partnership like it's the fucking A-Team. While we're definitely looking for a talented sniper, you're the one I'm interviewing. Not everything is about how quickly we can stuff something with lead."<br><br>He leaned forward, eyeing him carefully despite the ridiculous attire. "What we do here also requires finesse. Someone who can talk people down, who knows their way around the city. I'm not asking about your partnership with Gael, or what you and Gael have done, or anything. Don't even say the word 'Gael.' What do you see yourself doing for the squad? What is your role here?"<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Officer King's Interview</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackThrone</strong> on <strong>17-03-2016, 03:43:42</strong>
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				<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 style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">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 style="font-family: courier new;" class="bbc_font">Nanomacines detected.</span><br><br>White lines then began to outline the contours of Peter’s face before a box opened again: <span style="font-family: courier new;" class="bbc_font">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>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [The Broken City] | Interviews</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Inferior Rabbit</strong> on <strong>17-03-2016, 16:24:09</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1066.photobucket.com/albums/u416/InferiorRabbit/PeterAkimov.jpg)</div><strong>Peter Akimov</strong>:<br><strong>Location:</strong> OHSPD Interrogation Room<br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> One PM, April 11th 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Officer Gael<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> Frank<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> Coat (https://img0.etsystatic.com/023/0/5585742/il_340x270.548268796_gxhw.jpg)<br><hr><br>Peter's eyes followed Gael to his seat, the man apparently waiting for him to finish before he sat down. Either he was trained like a dog, or he was nervous. He didn't like either possibility, which was why he was relieved to see him sit down. The man clearly prepared for the interview unlike his partner. Already he could see the difference between the two. Frank was more experienced than him, but with that came a looseness regarding code and demeanor. Gael on the other hand, apparently a gifted shooter, was taut, prepared for anything. Despite having quite a bit of time now under his belt, he was still trying to prove that he belonged. Perhaps that was a bit of stretch though, considering this was all just from a look, and his partner's interview. He hardly knew the guy, but from his records he was a better shot than most, if not all of the department. Gael was definitely Frank's foil. <br><br>Gael asked if he could take off his coat, earning a perplexed look from Peter. <br><br>"I don't give a shit. It's not like this is my house or anything. Besides, you aren't dressed like your partner, so I don't have to worry about having to stare at some guy's sweaty fucking chest for the next few minutes." Peter leafed through the information on Gael for a few seconds, flicking the ashes off a cigarette as his practiced eyes searched across the papers for anything peculiar that needed addressing. There were definitely some things that he wanted to talk about with the shooter, before he allowed him on the team. He did tell Frank that he'd probably take them both, due to their teamwork, but that wasn't a guarantee. Despite his attire, Frank had passed, and was probably going to get into the squad after a few medical examinations. Gael on the other hand, hadn't made it yet, and during those examinations, they'd definitely be looking extra hard into those eyes of his. Hell, Peter was looking at them himself, trying to decipher just how he got them.<br><br>Ocular tech was always popular in the underworld, and was often a sign of someone with a past in theft, espionage, and even wetwork. They were valued for their ability to see in the dark, assist in aiming, identifying, and many more applications. Peter doesn't judge people on their past. He's learned that men and women can change, and are capable of anything. Good people could become monsters overnight, just as monsters can shift to heroes in the blink of an eye. Still, there were connections to be made between his skill as a shooter, and the fact that he has extremely high tech eyes that aren't properly documented in his file. Peter blew a puff of smoke with a sigh, adjusting his prosthetic leg so that it didn't dig into the other leg. Time for a test.<br><br>He made a show of dropping the file on his desk, and leaning back in his chair as Peter's cold eyes watched Gael's own hypnotic pair.<br><br>"Quite the pair of eyes you got there," He commented, rubbing his eyes out of tiredness. "Doubt that a cop on your salary could afford them, and the story behind them in your file has a few holes in it. I'm not certain I believe it. I know how cybernetics work, where they come from, and I've worked with people who have had similar mods as you. So here's what we're going to do for this interview, before we really start recording. We're gonna play the secret game. We ask each other a question, completely off the record, about whatever we want, and the other person has to answer truthfully. The recorder is off, and I just got this room today, so I couldn't have had time to set up any recording software. If you tell the truth, or at least a convincing enough lie, you get to stay for the interview. If you lie though, you get the fuck out, and never get a chance at the Squad again, because there's nothing I hate more than lying, and not knowing who I'm with."<br><br>Peter leaned forward, pressing the cigarette into the ashtray with the others he already smoked. <br><br>"Here's the best part my friend. Once we ask these questions, and leave this room after the interview, we completely forget what was said, and never speak of it to anyone. Is that clear? So, as someone who's familiar with this game, I'll let you go first Gael. Ask me anything you want, and when you're done, I'll ask you about how you got those eyes, and why you have them. If it was done legally, through the right channels then great. If not though, then you still just tell me. So while I answer, you think about what you want to say."<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [The Broken City] | Interviews</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Amarlo</strong> on <strong>18-03-2016, 08:33:22</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://img15.deviantart.net/26da/i/2012/171/9/8/i_won__t_let_go_by_triztaess-d53dall.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Allyk Dog (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12122225#msg12122225)<br><strong>Location:</strong> Interrogation Room, OHSPD Headquarters, Mega City Ohio, USoA <br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> 5:00 pm, April 1st, 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Akimov (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117688#msg12117688)<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> --<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> Standard Issue (http://i.imgur.com/6Xfuope.jpg) – without the headset.<br><hr>Don't call him boss? How'd he take to being called asshole, she wondered? Probably better than being called Boss or Sir, at least. She had a feeling by this point in his life he had long ago grown used to such nicknames. Just another point the two of them could relate on. "Sure thing." The woman shrugged off his attitude like she'd done so from the beginning. She'd met nastier mother fuckers than him many times in her life before, and while some of those were before she'd joined the force, many of them were actually just like him - a part of the system. You learned to roll with the punches and rebel in your own little ways in the mean time.&nbsp; <br><br>People didn't join this sort of squad to broaden their horizons? How strange. Why else would they join? Because of some sort of hero syndrome? Would they have preferred that as an answer? Was it really more sane than wanting to challenge yourself? In her experience she'd found that people who fight for themselves often make it further than those fighting for faceless people they'd never met before. Naturally, her reasons were a bit more complicated than simply wanting to join to put her skills to the test. She had her own little seemingly insignificant motivations but they didn't rule her in the overall scheme of things. After all, she didn't <i>need</i> to join this squad when she could investigate the Psychos by herself but it was sure as hell smarter to work with a team than to get yourself killed trying to be a lone wolf. <br><br>She decided not to comment this time around, though. She let the man slip right into his story and it was one that sounded vaguely familiar - not in the details, perhaps, but the overall scheme? Yes, this definitely sounded familiar. The circumstances were a bit unusual. Sure, having to kill someone while on duty wasn't exactly uncommon but usually you didn't really have much of a chance to think it over, did you? No, usually it was a life or death scenario where it was <i>you</i> or <i>them</i>. With that in mind, many people found a sort of solace - a wall of 'I had to or else they/I would be dead' they could hide behind. There was no luxury here, was there? It was an all around morally conflicting situation - like putting down Fiddo because he was suffering and you couldn't afford to save him. Then again, there were a lot of people out there that would scowl at her for trying to compare the death of an animal to a human but as far as she was concerned those people could go fuck themselves. <br><br>Regardless, Peter got her full attention as she processed it all through her head and there was just one thing about the entire scenario that bugged her. "I am prepared to do what is necessary." She replied with a shrug."However, I'm confused." She added, a slight frown marring her face as her right brow slanted in thought. "Why did straws have to be drawn?" Did that seem like a stupid question? Perhaps to the wrong person, maybe. She wasn't finished talking either, it seemed. It was just the start of some greater point of hers. "In that particular situation - or any situation really - if it was the commander's duty to assume all responsibility and guilt then straws shouldn't have been a part of the scenario." The commander should have instantly taken the task onto himself as their Chief and Commander. She could think of no reason why he would have forced anyone else in his crew to take on that responsibility unless there was some sort of hidden ulterior motive or missing information from the overall situation. "He should have been the one to put the girl out of her misery." And with that Dog's dark hues locked with Peter's, her opinion on this matter rather unyielding apparently. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Officer King's Interview</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Twisted iN Tux</strong> on <strong>18-03-2016, 15:30:19</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a9/Ref_A.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Francis King (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117902#msg12117902)<br><strong>Location:</strong> Interrogation Room, OHSPD Headquarters, Mega City Ohio, USoA <br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> Around Noon on the 1st of April, 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Officer Akimov (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117688#msg12117688)<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> <del>Officer Ingimarsson</del> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117979#msg12117979)<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> This (https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0a/Undercover_1.1.jpg)<br><hr><br>Frank could've corrected Peter on his assumption that <em>everyone</em> wanted to make a difference in the world, but he held back. There was no need to rile the guy up over such a minor detail. If that's what he wanted to believe, so be it, but Frank knew differently. In his time with the OHSPD, Frank had seen more than a few officers who were perfectly alright with simply coasting along from paycheck to paycheck, not caring in the least about how they earned it or, for that matter, if they had even done anything to warrant such a payout. Every industry had its fair share of slackers. This department wasn't immune.<br><br>At the officer's insistence that Frank not mention Gael's name again, he fought back yet another urge to correct him, after all, it hadn't been his choice to bring his partner into the conversation. If anything, Frank would've been just as content at leaving the guy out of the interview process altogether, but seeing that they were partners who were applying for the same team, it was only natural that his name would crop up.<br><br>Just like the boner in his skin-tight jeans.<br><br><em>What the...?</em><br><br>Clearly he was long overdue for his afternoon toss, but, quite obviously, it was just going to have to wait until an hour or so from now. Damn, was it going to be a good one, too. Frank could feel it in his balls.<br><br><em>Focus Frank. Focus.</em><br><br>Shifting in his seat, all in an effort to relieve the tension the was building in the crotch of his pants, he redirected his attention to Peter and his last question. So the guy wanted to know more about him and what he would bring to the table, well...<br><br>"Exactly that," he began to reply, with a nod of his head, as he leaned in to meet Peter's steady gaze. "I'll be your mouth when you need me to be and your passkey into any world you want to enter. I have more personas than you can shake a dick at and they're not all as nearly as extreme as what you see here," he noted, with a small smirk, as he made a quick motion to his pierced face and tattoo-covered torso. <br><br><em>Fuck. Did I just say shake a dick at? Jesus. Focus Frank!</em><br><br>"If you need access into a corporate office, I'm your man," he was quick to recover, regardless of the flub. "I'll suit up as Curtis Carlisle and schmooze my way around whatever boardroom or water cooler you need me to. A science lab or educational facility? Easy. I'll get my geek on as Darren Atwater. He's such a nerd, but the ladies seem to love him. Anyway. The list goes on and on, and it's not all smoke and mirrors either. I play the part to the hilt and have yet to blow my cover."<br><br>"But that's just a small part of what I can do for you."<br><br>"As an everyday officer, I've been able to talk people off of ledges and down from doing something they'd likely live to regret, such as filling a crowd of innocents with lead. I'm good for morale too, especially in a team setting. I'm the guy that you come to when you want to punch a wall. I'll let you vent all over me and I'll take it in stride, but if you want advice, I'll do my best to give you that too. I'm good with people, Pete, and not just with the dead ones," he concluded, with a reference to his forensic expertise, as he sat back in his seat.<br><br>"On second though," he then blurted as he sat back up. "Screw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Regardless of the fact that we're probably both going to make the team, I'm your man, Pete, and, you know what? If you're looking for a second-in-command, put my name at the top of that particular shortlist, too."<br><br>"I want in, Pete."<br><br>"And I want in good and deep."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [The Broken City] | Interviews</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Inferior Rabbit</strong> on <strong>18-03-2016, 17:17:42</strong>
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				<br><div class="floatleft">(http://i1066.photobucket.com/albums/u416/InferiorRabbit/PeterAkimov.jpg)</div><strong>Peter Akimov</strong>:<br><strong>Location:</strong> OHSPD Interrogation Room<br><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong> 1 PM, April 11th 2110<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Officer Dog<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong> Dog, Frank<br><strong>Wearing:</strong> Coat (https://img0.etsystatic.com/023/0/5585742/il_340x270.548268796_gxhw.jpg)<br><hr><br>A wistful smile ghosted Peter’s lips, twitching his prosthetic fingers in thought.<br><br>“Those were my thoughts too Dog, back then. If the commander was going to order us to kill a civilian, albeit someone infected with something too dangerous to handle, he should do it himself. However, everyone else understood it, and I came to see it as well after having a few years to think about it. The commander is just a title, with a couple extra details. They may give orders, and act as the bridge between the operative, and the High Council themselves, but in the thick of things, on decisions like those, it’s not as simple as deciding one man should do it. One person can’t shoulder all those decisions, and carry them out at the same time. Psychologically, it’s enough to send them over the edge.<br><br>“It may sound like I’m trying to save my own skin here in the long run, but the truth is that it is up to the team to shoulder these burdens along with the leaders themselves. Back then, we were all close enough to know that we couldn’t possibly flat out ask anyone one of to go up those stairs and put a bullet in a girl’s head. It was hard enough to think about it, let alone say it. So the only way we could decide it was with straws. It’s fucked up, but it’s the reality of our jobs. The operative deals with their own inner turmoil, while the leader takes everything else.” It was tough explaining it. No one living knew the captain like Peter did, and the burden he had shouldered with the title. It was what made him partly dread his placement as the head of the Max-Tac group.<br><br>“As a leader, I will never give an order that I’m not willing to carry out myself if I need to. I’ll always put my men and women first, before anything else. You’re going to be a senior member of the team, and they’ll look to you to lead as well. As a leader, you <strong>will</strong> be in a similar situation, one where I’ll be unable to help you, and you’ll have to give orders that could mean bad things for you. It’ll be your role. Despite your... irritating personality thus far, I want you to be that person we need. Someone who the team can rely on, when they can’t or won’t rely on me. My role is to give some peace of mind along with orders.” This has been the most sincere he’s been with another human being in a long while, and of course it had to be someone like Dog, a coworker who he wasn’t entirely sure respected him as she should(though it was mutual). Peter raised his index and middle finger. <br><br>“The Psycho Squad only has two goals, in any operation. Kill all Psychos, and minimize the loss of life. It’s all we do. In the end though, commanders will always assume the harshest treatment. In history, I may be reviled as a soulless man, who was involved in the deaths of hundreds of people, including his own team. My own team members may hate me for what I do. I don’t care. As long as they live, I couldn’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks of me.” That was all he wanted from this job. To see his members live complete lives, while facing the odds, and fighting against the monstrous psychos that have inflicted panic into the entirety of humanity.<br><br>“Enough of that though, Dog. I don’t want to scare you off with all this talk. Just take that into account in the future.” He flicked the recorder back to life, and looked back to his notes.<br><br>“While we don’t have any particularly set... roles in the team, I have you pegged for someone who can take on a bit more responsibility as a leader in the squad. You and Frank being the more senior members of the new recruits. Aside from that though, what special assets to you bring to the team?”<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Officer King's Interview</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackThrone</strong> on <strong>23-03-2016, 05:37:19</strong>
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				<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 style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>I don’t give a shit. It’s not like this is my house or anything…</strong><br><br>Bowing his head—mostly to hide the amused smirk that cocked on his face at Peter’s demeanor—he unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it from his shoulders, maneuvering it off until it was folded backwards over his chair. Gael sat before him then in a long-sleeved dress shirt and waistcoat. The poor guy was layered, and if he had known his interview would take place in a sauna, then he might had dressed like Frank too.<br><br>The Scandinavian sat a little forward in his chair, his back and rear not leaning against the rest and his hands uncurled and resting upon his knees. While Peter was fingering through his folder of who knew what dirt he had on him, Gael was watching him closely. He was completely engaged in the interview. He might have receded into his thoughts for a moment until Peter’s sigh brought him back to reality. He watched him drop his file haphazardly upon the desk and then got comfortable in his chair.<br><br><strong>Quite the pair of eyes you got there…</strong><br><br>Peter’s words struck him like lightning, and its crippling jolt nearly made his breath thin as ice started bleeding up his spine.<em>He knew it.</em><br><br><strong>Doubt that a cop on your salary could afford them…</strong><br><br>He proceeded to analyze him, sharing with him his disbeliefs.<br><br><strong>…The recorder is off…</strong><br><br>Gael glanced over to the machine and despite the great upheaval that was going on inside of him, he was able to wear his best mask. It was a good thing that the room was sweltering otherwise his apprehension could have been presumed to be the sweat currently drenching his brows and pits.<br><br><strong>If you tell the truth, or at least a convincing enough lie, you get to stay for the interview. If you like though, you get the fuck out, and never get a chance at the Squad again…</strong><br><br>This guy wanted to eat him alive…and even though he was being put on the spot, all he thought about was Frank; disappointing Frank; upsetting Frank if he didn’t get the job. He honestly didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t want to tell him the truth…at least not the full truth.<br><br>There was a long silence once Frank finished. It was a silence that lingered that Gael hadn’t even known existed for he was so deep in his thoughts, trying to come up with a question for Mr. Peter Akimov and the story he was going to weave for him in return for that question.<br><br><strong>Once we ask these questions, and leave this room after the interview, we completely forget what was said…</strong> he recalled him saying that as delayed of a recollection as it had been. He had been so focused on the more horrifying details that he nearly had missed the ones that might have mattered.<br><br>The quiet was disturbed as the soft sound of Gael’s lips parting was heard louder than normal but that could have been because the silence that had descended upon the room had become so thick. He asked:<br><br>“Are you afraid of them…The Psychos?”</span>
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