Reordering Thought

Weeko sits in her corner, obviously having finished her meal for a while now, judging from the annoyed look of the waitress. She seems to be resting or lost in thought.

Johny slides in to the womans booth without really saying hello yet. "Hey, waitress! A super chimme chonga meal, a large slurm cola and enough hotsauce to prime the carborator on my truck." Says the man, scooting his chair in to the table. "Hey tusks." He says then to Weeko. "Whats on your mind?"

Weeko shrugs, "Nit much…jus' thinkin'. Headed fer some Taco meal?"

The waitress eyes the man who just sat down, but turns to get the order. A tips a tip. Johnny looks to Weeko, a grin coming over his features. "Hey, I like to eat. What can I say?" He says, settling in. "We've never had a chance to chat, you know. ME and you. One on one. Well." A glance to her belly. "I'll settle for four on one."

Weeko tilts her head, "I did'na know dere was much need fer talkin'…yer da new mission coordinator fer da lot o' us 'n I'm jus' a loose affiliation. Quite loose righ' now."

The last supported by a pat on her belly. "Fer good reasons…"

Johny nods. "I am. But I'm also trying to figure out how to play this game." He says, a quick glance along the sight-lines of the room. "SEe, the old man… he was a spy to his core. He was all about time tables, operational security and rules. My god, that old man had rules. But I recognize, the Mission is longer term than most people realize, so I've got to rebuild an operational paradigm that allows us to be more human. See, it's easy to subvert your thoughts, feelings and whatnot for a few hours. A few days, A few weeks… even a few years. But… fuck, Weeko, this is damn near forever. So we gotta change. So here I am, ordering crappy mexican food and talking wiht a pregnant chick and her back up band."

Weeko nods, "Yeah, I know…'n I got quite a piece o' da cake without even wantin' ter be inna game…Ho much do ya know?"

Johny pauses as the woman brings his drink. He slides a gold credit card out of his wallet, passing it over. "Put it all on this card, and run yourself a tip that doubles the bill." He says offering the waitress the second deadliest smile in his arsenal. When she's gone, he turns back to weeko. "Everything. I read everything the old man put on paper or I could corner him to talk about."

Weeko chuckles, "I dunno wha' he took ter paper, but well…I'm obviously atta strong disadvantage…as Imma not knowin' much o ya, 'xept ya bein da new commander." She uses the oportunity to muster the man quite thorougly. "I jus dun know wha ter talk ter ya 'bout now…'s a unique situation fer me, as I usually am da one talkin' up guys fer all kinda fun…"

Johny shakes his head, sucking some soda out through straw. "Actually." he says. "Commanders a bit of a hard term. I'm looking for something new, but I'm not gonna issue you commands unless I think they're gonna save your life. I'd rather just work with you. So here. This is Johnny in a nutshell. I was orphaned in the Aztech/CAS war of 34. Extracted along with other refugees to New Orleans where I was raised in a group home 9th ward warrens where I was abused as a kid, so I ran away a lot, got in to a lot of fights and stole a lot of cars. I fucked a lot of girls, started doing home burglaries. I got caught red handed and had my happy ass slapped in to the CAS Marine Corps. I excelled, took orders well once I was in an environment where initiative was rewarded and capability recognized."

"I joined the spec-ops division as a long range scout and urban warfare specialist. Trained in hand to hand and every major tactical weapons system in production. I left the Marine Corps a few years back and started running the shadows. The Old Man found me and offered to train me in some of the finer points. Guess he knew he needed some kind of successor or heir. So when he retired, I was tapped to replace him."

He pauses, offering his hand over. "Johnny Wulfson. Pleased to meet you."

Weeko blinks, "Wow…sounds like quite a career." She takes the hand and shakes normally. Not doing any of that macho pressing the others hand to smithereens tries. "Well, want me short story?"

Johny shakes firmly, without trying to manhandle her either. "Tell me what you think I should know. Lets start from there, and if I have questions, I'll ask."

Weeko shrugs, "Well, obviously I'm da kid o' a Yak oyabun o' some kind 'n a prostitute. Seems Dad was not happy me mum let me live, so she got killed once he came behind dat. I fled from da Orphanage due to da fact dat I did'na like da way Roobins dat fuckin' director treated us. Meanin he was rapin' us. Den I spend my time onna streets 'n was found by Masta Wu, who taught me some of 'is Fu 'n handlin' me KI. I rose outta da 'rens by stealin' 'n burglin'.

Johny nods to the girl, sipping his drink. "Yeah, I know how that goes. Can't be easy for a half-blood injun and Jap, much less an ork, to claw her way up. I got nothing but respect for that." He says, honestly. "So your an adept. What dan? Rank? belt? How do you people quantify that shit?"

Weeko shrugs, "I just kin say I took two ordeals ter raise me powa 'n joined a group wid a couple o' friends fer initiatin'. SO I guess I'mma grade two initiate. Da way hermitic woul' call 't."

Johny nods to Weeko as his food comes. "Still hungry? Order something else, I'm buying." he says, raising his fork to dig in to the vaugely mexican-like food presented to him. "So lets talk turkey." he says, digging in. "Do you want to be part of the Watchers? You got shoe-horned in, you've not been on an active op, but thats for good cause. Katral, the decker, nice kid, but he got shoe horned in as well. Before you answer." He raises a finger, looking to her. "I'm not looking for reasons to fire you or anything like that. I want to know what Weeko wants. If she wants to work with us, well, I can find something you can do while you're pregnant. Theres a lot of work to be done, and not all of it's field missions. I'm willing to work with -you-."

Weeko tilts her head, "Oh, really? I'm almos' hopeless outta me field o' experience I'm jus' about ter raise otha skills ter a decent level…but all 'n all, I feel I kinna refuse ter work fer da watchers. Moon's indicatin' that as well…if I git her right, but I'm not fully connected ter her…"

Johny tilts his head now, pausing as he eats to ask.. "You kind of refuse to work for the watchers?

Weeko shakes her head, "Nah…I really wanna work fer ya guys. Moon said 't would be a good thin' ter do. 'specially wid me kids 'round. I'm jus' not shure wha help I kin be while I'm all bulgy."

Johny ahhhhs. "Thats something I wanted to talk about. Your accent. It fades now and again. Is it affectated or… whats going on with that, Weeko?"

Weeko nods, "Oh, I do it more out of habit…It's more…like I'm used to talk like that. I feel wrong if I talk like a corper." Weeko ponder some more, "But if you want to get me something usefull to do, I'm all for it. You can only do so much sexing if your belly is /that/ much of a bulge…"

Johny nods, chewing over a bite of food. "Look. Here's the truth of the world. We are who we say we are. With action, with thought, we tell the world who we are with every step. And the world responds, ya know? If I come in here, dressed in a suit, with glasses, and I talk with an educated accent and I have a credit card from a big bank, people assume I'm who I say I am. If you come in here dressed like a sprawler, talking like a sprawler, then, well, you are a sprawler, and you get the associated issues."

He pauses again when she mentions sexing. "Frankly, we have the sexing handled. Between Lilith and.. Lilith, we don't need anymore sex. How willing are you to pick up administrative details? Organizing supplies, keeping kits packed and ready to go?"

Weeko shrugs, "Quite willing…sounds like a thing I'd be able te…to do even packed up with that trio…I took some computer lessons with Katral and some electronics with … a friend. Maybe that helps."

Johny nods. "Alright. I'll look in to getting you set up with some access. First thing we need, is a place to keep our crap. I'm working on that right now." He says simply. "You, enjoy your meal. I need to get a move on for a while. I live in the Midevio, top floor, room 1004. Stop by any time."

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