◆ TAMLIN || DEADWEIGHT ◆ (DOPPO/Tamlin/Job)

It was late into the evening, and the Rune Knight headquarters began its strangely tranquil transition. Men and women retired from their cubicles and offices to go home while others appeared from the doorway ready to begin their shifts. Not everyone followed a strict schedule, and many of them were distinctly unique from one another, but the headquarters were never empty and was always bustling with some kind of activity. There was always some tragedy to deal with regardless of the time of day. Unfortunately for Chiyuki, or better known as Doppo by some folks, his daily routines usually revolved around work in Era or at headquarters. He spent his nights and his days in Era and many would consider him some sort of a workaholic, even though he wasn't one and never intended to portray himself that way.

The Field Marshall, Serilda Sinclair, happened to be away this evening. So Doppo created a dangerous habit of retiring to her own office and sitting in her own chair while she was away. He hadn't been caught but his being there was widespread information among those who watched him, and very few seemed to have an issue with it considering all he did was resume his work and occasionally nap. However, this time around, the listless redhead seemed to be moodier. He looked as indifferent as a human being could possibly be, but his brows scrunched and screwed together more often than usual and it was these minute details that made clear his mood.

Chiyuki was waiting for Tamlin—a recent recruit whose work ethic was abysmal and discipline was nonexistent. Frankly, he seemed to loiter more than work, and it was becoming an issue. Although he had attempted to correct him several times, Tamlin seemed to ignore it. So, consequently, he had requested a coworker to send out some ominous request that Serilda Sinclair herself wanted to see him in her office—in which Chiyuki sat patiently with a bag of cheap fudge cookies from a convenience store nearby and a bottle of scotch in front of him. The woman who sent out the request from him was, of course, weary and anxious about doing such a thing dishonestly, but the redhead had somehow convinced her to do it anyway—apparently telling her that he would take the blame and telling her this as lackadaisically as he could be persuasive enough for her. So now, he waited.

He waited in his usual black, crisp uniform. It was perhaps the simplest of them all and stood out the least, but it was supremely well-kept and didn't make him look any less sharp despite his slouching posture and an awful case of bedhead and baggy eyes. He was reclining back into the leather seat, a cold glass pressed against his lips with the amber alcohol slowly trickling in with any small movement of his fingers. He was reading through some sort of paperwork—recent reports, probably. He was only a private himself but he spent a great amount of time helping others rather than pursuing investigations and other things, and this happened to be one of them. And so he waited, brooding, and unhappy.

A few minutes had passed and the long awaited knocking of knuckles against Serilda's door insued. It was the hardness of anxious fingers that knocked against that door, making it plenty clear that Tamlin, and he assumed that that's who it was, was nervous. Well, he should've been as nervous as anyone would be if the Field Marshall, one of the strongest mages in Fiore and the leader of the prestigious Rune Knights, called them in. Let alone a mere recruit of all echelons. Something incredibly awful or brilliant was likely to happen to them if this were the case—but it wasn't.

The doors opened and lo and behold, tall wide-eyed Tamlin steps in. Probably to his surprise, it wasn't the fearsome and incredibly praised Serilda Sinclair waiting for him, but Private Suzuki, or Doppo, with handfuls of fudge cookies carefully stacked next to a small bottle of amber scotch. An odd yet tasty combination. Chiyuki sighed, "Sorry to disappoint, but it's just me. . ." the redhead reclined back the executive leather chair, resting his cheek on his fist and pointed to the less impressive leather chair just ahead of him, "sit down." Chiyuki told him.

His voice sounded like normal, worn and sleepy, and his eyes just as reflective of this fact. But there wasn't a lick of indignation or frustration for Tamlin that he normally held in his undertones. No, he simply sounded tired. He was always tired but this time, especially so. He continued to snack away on his cookies, careful not to let any crumb find its way onto the desk, the glasses empty and the amber scotch unopened.

Chiyuki could tell that Tamlin was still on edge about the situation. Something about his demeanor had changed. Maybe it was the tension that visibly tightened his muscles or the lack thereof that allowed for Chiyuki to take notice of it. But this was to be expected, there could've been a litany of things to talk about when it came to Tamlin's work ethic and performance alone, and while the redhead did wish to bring these things up, he figured that it was probably best to address the bigger picture first.

He forced a crooked smile in watching Tamlin's feet suddenly shuffle and kick onto the Field Marshall's desk. ". . . Well, Tamlin. . ." Chiyuki replied, and the tight grip of his fingers, he pinched Tamlin's toes through his shoes, lifted and removed them from the desk with haste. "'M twird of thwis. . ." he muttered in between shoveling the rest of his cookies into his mouth and sweeping the crumbs into his palms to only bring to his mouth again.

Chiyuki began to finally get around to the scotch in between words, twisting the cap off with a signature pop! noise. The amber fell from the glass container into his much smaller glass, filling it about a quarter of its volume. He brought it to his mouth but didn't drink from it, instead of pushing the other empty glass towards Tamlin's end of the desk and silently offering him some. "The fellas here at headquarters have really tried to push you into your stride.
. . to get you to do something. . . but you still won't come to trainings and anything you do to substitute for that lost time won't ever be as good as being there with everyone. . ." Chiyuki twisted a small bundle of red hair around his index finger, sipping from his amber scotch, ". . . this is probably just a job for you. . . money and all of that—and I get it." he mumbled. His voice was heavy and weary, his eyes staring into the amber scotch with indifference and longing in their gaze.

Chiyuki reclined back into the leather chair again, his gaze rising from the glass to Tamlin's equally lax figure. He nodded to his uniform, "I don't know what you do with the time you make for yourself when you ditch your duties, and I really don't care. . ." he then looked back to Tamlin with a certain solemnity and melancholy in his expression, ". . . but what will you say when you're called to action one day and something happens to not only you but your colleagues because of your inexperience. . . ? What if, say,
Crimson Fang returns and we don't have it all together like last time. . .? That'll be fun." he finally stopped. It was easily the most he had ever spoken to someone in the last month, but this wasn't uncommon when he had something to say. While soft-spoken when he spoke and if he spoke, he was an incredibly busy-minded man.

As he talked on and drank in between pauses, he began to realize that he wasn't angry at Tamlin, or even weary of his actions, but exasperated by his choices. It exhausted him of any energy there was for being angry. So before he knew it, he was more tired than usual. But even still he began to wonder if he was angry at all, or if this was some viscious form of concern for his colleagues—the ones on the younger side of the age spectrum especially.

"Mm. Okay." Doppo responded noncomittedly as Tamlin attempted to debunk every point he was trying to make while ignoring many of the valid one he did make. His inability to see the value in being part of the group only further exasperated Doppo, beyond what facial expressions could replicate. So, not surprisingly, his demeanor remained fatigued and drained.

"Starting tomorrow, you'll be participating in some morning exercises with me. . ." Doppo sluggishly sipped his drink again, staring at Tamlin's cigarette, "if you're the only one measuring your competence, it might as well means nothing if no one else can validate it. .  . Also. . ." the redhead pointed to the cigarette this time, ". . .don't smoke in here."

There were some things that Doppo believed to be true about working with others even though he, like Tamlin, had an aversion to it at first (and still does). You could do all the exercises and regiments and know all of the protocols that everyone else does but deem it all meaningless and work in vain if they insist on working alone in a field where cooperation and community were key. Although some compromises to comfort and adjustments to attitude must be made, it was for the betterment of everyone, and consequently, Doppo couldn't have said he regretted it without lying. He wasn't the type to mentor others or to parent them if he could help it, but there was something about seeing his younger colleagues waste away or ignore their potential that made him at least want to try to help them.

It was during this pause between them that the redhead suddenly recalled Tamlin's age. He was no older than nineteen and suddenly made this nitpicking, snappy remark of his more believable and understandable.

When Tamlin quickly receded to Doppo's orders, it seemed that their exchange for tonight had come to end. Tamlin would pluck the last cookie from Doppo's grasp before he could eat it, snuffed out his cigarette, and gave him a sloppy salute as he walked out of the office. The redheaded Major didn't say anything as he left, not knowing that it would be the last time he would see him before he'd vanish from the face of Earthland and that the morning they had both looked forward to would never happen. He did not know that it would happen, and so the only thing that occupied his mind and body was the umbrage he felt in seeing his last cookie taken from him and the scotch he was drinking intermittently.

When the following morning came and Tamlin did not show up, Doppo felt as if he had confirmed his worst suspicions—that Tamlin was lazy and uncommitted to the job, and for many days, that was what Doppo had believed to be true in his absence. He had wanted to believe that Tamlin would’ve rose to his expectations, but alas, the redhead would continue his morning exercises at the same time that he and Tamlin would’ve been training together—alone.

A month had passed since then, and Doppo had long suspended his belief that Tamlin simply “flaked out” on their morning exercises. Information surfaced on events that took place the same night he vanished, but it wasn't anything that he could draw conclusions on, and so he eventually put a lot of time in pondering his memory of Tamlin. He and many others never thought of him as competent, but his presence was always there within headquarters. He may vanish from time to time, but he and that bubbly grinning face of his would always reappear sooner rather than later. But it never did, and many of the bumbling Rune Knights who indulged in him and were pestered by him were all beginning to wonder about him alike.

Many months had passed now, and the subtle differences in atmosphere Tamlin's disappearance had caused slowly reverted back to normal. Doppo's "Missing Person" form had long been submitted along with many others, and everyone had no choice but to continue to serve and have faith that their officers would recover Private Tamlin—even Doppo. Their minds had wandered away from the question of "Where did Private Tamlin disappear off to?" and back to what duties they were going to be assigned that day or when they were to receive promotions. Private Tamlin had been of no greater import than the missing Ms. Baker or Dr. Scwartz. The age of the missing person reports rusted its value, as it seems. But the value never seemed to dissipate with Doppo.

1,694. . . 1,695. . . 1,696. . . 1,697. . .

In the Engineering Corps Gymnasium, a familiar looking redhead could be seen in the corner doing one-handed push-ups near the lifting weights without a shirt on, sweat dripping from all parts of his body and collecting in a pool beneath him. In his head, he kept count on the amount of push-ups he was doing.

1,698. . . 1,699. . . 1,700. . . 1,701. . .

The recently promoted Major General Suzuki had looked a little different since half a year ago. He would intermittently cut his hair in a way that was sloppy but exposed his face a little bit more and looked somewhat presentable if it were slicked back. He had gotten notably buffer since then and has routinely come to the gymnasium to do his morning exercises instead of going outside. Hearing himself grunt and groan through the echoes of the gymnasium distracted him from a litany of other things he was dealing with. Aside from these few notable details, the soft-spoken but heavy-hearted Doppo had not changed at all and continued to look as weary and plagued with fatigue as ever.

Tap, tap, tap

The sound of a group of men and women marching into the gymnasium suddenly became clear as they'd arrive for their morning exercises. When they came in, the whole dozen of them saluted. One Knight with a buzz-cut and large, soft eyes stared at no one in particular as he stood in front to speak.

"Major General Suzuki, sir!" he announced.

Flippantly, Doppo paused his push-ups and looked up to the group with a weary and somewhat bewildered gaze. He tilted his head and wondered why such a large group of privates were here interrupting his exercises. ". . .Mm. . .?"

"Our morning drill, sir!" the soft-eyed private responded, his expression beginning to screw up in anxiety. For several moments, there was no exchange between Doppo and the group of privates. Nothing to fill the gap between them but silence. It wasn't until an entire minute has passed that Doppo suddenly recalled what they were talking about.

"Oh," said Doppo, perking up, "I'm sorry, I forgot. . ." he apologized unapologetically, always forgetting important things like this. ". . .Wait outside. . ."

"Yessir!" the group of privates all responded in rising crescendo, then hastily walking away to wait outside in front of headquarters for their superior officer who sometimes filled in for their drill sergeant.

As Doppo watched his subordinates exit, his face along with his gaze fell to the ground directly beneath him. He felt his hot breath reflect back onto his face as it bounced off the ground before he decided to stand up. He tossed a dry towel over his neck and began to pat his face with it. His blue eyes wandered to the ceiling lights as they beamed on his glistening skin.

I want what time lunch starts. I'm hungry. . .