Who: Wesker and Jared (Robert -cough cough- ) Where: Wesker's Office What: Last interview and job assignment Warnings: Hrm... It's possible. Language
Log finished
There exists in every business, a turnover rate of the employees there within. It could be a few or a few thousand depending on the scale and duty of the business in question but it seemed to be higher in those of a shiftier nature. This was rather natural, especially in a business that dealt more in human flesh than cold hard cash. Every few months the new recruits would come in, be trained and then replace those who had either died previously or had worn out their welcome. They were hand picked by their agencies before being given the final ‘ok’ by Wesker himself. He liked doing it too. Gave him an ego boost… not that he needed it. The inspection was held via hologram in another location before the recruits were assigned positions and locations. It hadn’t been too sad a turnout and the whirring noise told the Tyrant his new Sanctum employees were about ready to land. He stood and walked to meet them, dressed in black and shades in place as usual. Two guards accompanied him to the helicopter pad. Not that he couldn’t take care of any trouble himself but first impressions.. Well firs impressions in the flesh, were everything.
They were all at perfect attention when the three men approached, Jared noted his surroundings with slight interest as he waited for the final processes. He wouldn't lie, the road this far had been a tough bitch to handle, and it was bound to get worse if that witch instructor was telling the truth. It was his mission and his goal to make sure he was the best of the recruits and could get as close to Wesker as possible. The slight breeze blew the longer strands of his razor cut hair about, he squinted his eyes and noted the approaching men. It was obvious who was in charge. Now came the hard part: fucking over the competition.
“Welcome” Wesker greeted after they had gotten out and lined up. He watched them intently, silently judging them. They would be scrutinized for the next few weeks as they were assigned positions. Those ranking lesser would sink to detail work, facility management and the like, while those who excelled would find their place in the private wings and meeting rooms of their leader. “You’ve worked hard to get here but it isn’t over yet. You were all selected for a reason. Potential, but That isn’t enough. One wrong move can end your life.” He pulled his heavy magnum from the inside of his coat and fired twice into the head of the guard on his right for emphases, the man’s body falling with a thump. “Understand?”
The usual talk. Jared tried his best to keep his expression neutral, even though he'd been hearing such lectures since he was a kid. Potential. Hard work. Yatta yatta.
His brow raised just slightly as a gun was pulled. A magnum, he could tell by the build and the sound of a pair of fired bullets. There was a faint crunching sound as a body fell, oozing thick blood onto the ground below with a thud. Internally he smile, this was a man who knew how to get a point across. So maybe things wouldn't be too dull.
"Sir, yes, sir!"
“Good to hear it.” and the gun went back into it’s holster. “I have here, your room list. Your room number and identification badge will be given out shortly in the interview.” Wesker continued, gesturing with the folder in his other hand. “The brief to your first assignment is in your rooms which are shared in twos. For now access is granted only to the barracks. This will change as your creditability and performance increase.” It was all simple information but it had to be said and he liked saying it. Each recruit would go through a final interview, one on one before being submitted to a physical trial. Entertainment was more like as they were put in small groups and made to fight their way through a rather interesting obstacle course. Practical really as the weak were done away with and the survivors bonded. It made for better guards really.. And it was a first hand encounter with some to the animal and plant life the facility had to offer. “If you’d follow me, I’m sure you aren’t very used to this weather.” It was hella cold. The Tyrant turned and headed back inside, calling the recruits into his rather impressive though minimalist office one by one.
When his turn came, he walked along into the office. The one thing he had agreed on was the temperature, which actually made the metal piercing through his nose hurt just a bit. Stepping into the office, he kept his eyes straight forward, not locking eyes with Wesker. Honestly, as easy as it had been to get here- it seemed almost ridiculous not to kill his target rather than just observe and report. He always got the lame missions anyway. He kept a rigid posture, looking odd with his unique look that made him stand out from the other trainees, and waited for whatever was next.
“Have a seat” Wesker instructed and took at look at the man’s paperwork. Nothing too out of the ordinary.. So why then was he so different. Normally recruits were cookie cutter boys.. All the same.. All boring.. But good enough to do their jobs. The one that stuck out, by trend, was very good… or fist to die. “Robert is it?” Funny, he hadn’t removed his sunglasses even though they were inside. They would learn soon enough that it was rare to see Wesker without them.
"Thank you, sir." He sat down and waited in silence as his paperwork was shuffled through, this was all routine that he could go through on some sort of auto-pilot. When he was spoken to again he waited a moment, recalling the information he'd been drilled in. "Yes sir. Robert Smith." He remained at attention, wondering if the man had eyes at all behind those shades. Most likely it was some lame-assed intimidation technique.
Something like that… Wesker half expected the man to follow up with some kind of “..but my friends call me___” Probably some stupid nickname… Blade.. Spike… Death Guy.. Uugh “I couldn’t help but notice you stand out in a crowd. Something of a rebel I take it? Refuse to conform?” He smiled lightly, leading on as if it amused him. He didn’t like rebels.. They were trouble in this business and a waste of space.
Ah- the typical line of questions. Fan-fucking-tastic. "I would not exactly call it rebellion or not wanting to fall into conformity-" he paused thoughtfully, keeping his words evenly paced and level at all times. "It's more a matter of preference that has no bearing at all on my skills or performance, as my records and scores clearly show." He wanted to just punch that fucking smile off of his cocky face and piss down his throat, the patronizing bastard.
Hn. He was one of those. The ‘I don’t classify myself’ types. Almost more irritating. “So it would seem…” The statistics were agreeable. He would slide by for now but Wesker’s interest was peaked. “Really I don’t mind as long as your.. Preferences.. Don’t interfere with your ability to perform.” And it was the truth. As long as they maintained themselves and were presentable it wasn’t a problem. “Why did you sign up for this?” Money was a popular answer but it was, again, an obligatory question. Something along the lines of ‘how long to you figure you’ll live after today’ would have been much more entertaining.
"They won't." He could be confident in that much. There were few in that group that seemed to be as 'enthusiastic' about the actual work anyway. "I suppose money and a good challenge. Life gets boring fast out of the services."
“I’m sure.” It had the tendency to do that, and soldiers found themselves without a purpose. Perfect candidates. Growing bored with the interview, Wesker nodded and shifted in his seat slightly. The same run of the mill questions were boring to both parties but they had to be asked. “Do you have any questions?” Now would be one of the only opportunities to speak directly to Wesker as he rarely held conversations with guards. Only a select few were on his floor to begin with and even then conversation was strictly kept to business related subjects.
"What sorts of weaponry are we expected to be familiar with?" He could sense the trouble he'd get into from the Group if they knew he'd asked something like that, but hell, he had to get his jollies somehow if he was stuck pretending to be Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.