Candidate Manoeuvres [Shisha/Romo]

[EriChar]

Oliver Smith, Daniel Huston, Landon Spector, Max Beumer, Ted Cheever, Lonnie Hultgren, Tameka Lease, Panda Mann, Amy Corprew, Mathew Howey, Vergil von Fuerst, Nelson Rugh, Julianne Minelli, Lakisha Metzgar, Allan Swigert… Flicking through a wad of personnel profiles thick enough to make a sizeable dent in any head it was smacked against, the white haired marine sat at a small desk in what was one of the more stable buildings on the Illusian Marine Base softly stroking the gathering strands of dark stubble that coated the area around his mouth. With a pair weeks having passed since the dreadful attack that had devastated the surroundings, the speed and efficiency that the soldier force of the World Government at the very least inspired a sense of satisfaction, even if a whole lot of the time their ethics did not, and the base was looking like the strong and proud symbol of ‘Justice’ that it once had. Marine engineers and craftsmen that had survived the attack were supplemented by the forces drawn in from the bases in the surrounding Western Blue, and thanks to their tireless and near constant efforts of these artisan’s, the man who poured over this documentation was now afforded a solid roof over his head as he did so, rather than the wafting canvas of a tent.

Even with pictures, you can’t get an image of their potential… Exhaling in frustration, the White Hunter allowed the loosely gripped papers to fall back down onto the desk in front of him, as he pulled a pair of cigars from the bandoleer-like reams of thick Cubans that wrapped around his jacket, rubbing his forehead with the index finger of his other hand. Who would have thought that bolstering one’s forces would prove to be so stressful? Unlike the rest of his team, who he’d assigned a short period of R&R, so they could recover from wounds suffered in defence of this land, the workaholic that is the man known as Smoker would never have afforded such a chance for inactivity. While his own wounds were healing up, the commander himself spent his time taking care of the bane of all Marine’s existence; paperwork. As one can no doubt imagine, the sinking of one’s command incurred a severe amount of administration, and while his crew had seen large advancements in authority thanks to their actions, they had also become undermanned for the task that had been assigned due to such advancement.

I’ve been idle for too long… Streams of smoke now billowing softly from the tips of the twin cigars nestled between the Marine’s molars, Commodore, rather Rear Admiral Smoker as he was now, couldn’t help but feel a sense of restlessness; some were suited to desk work and that sort of thing, but this man was not, he preferred to be chasing down criminals and evildoers, rather than doing the paperwork to facilitate such actions.
Finally stole Baxter away from me, huh? Lamenting the loss of his first officer, the White Hunter’s trusted right hand, to the promotion chain and his own command, the pile of due paperwork was not the only reason he missed the now Captain Baxter, but certainly played a part of it. It had been a necessary manoeuvre in the defeat of Arashio to let Baxter ‘show off’ by commanding the White Maiden in the defence of Illusia, but it had placed the officer as a clear candidate to replace one of the many captains that had been lost in recent times, and with the changes in high command that those same times had seen, it was hard for even a Rear Admiral to stand in the way of such a request. As much of a maverick and trouble causer that Smoker was, it had been near impossible even for him to keep the capable captain in his hand still, particularly when he currently had no officially assigned ship or active duties to tie Baxter to.

Maybe one of these guys will be good with admin? Glancing over the strewn stack of Marine profiles again, Rear Admiral Smoker sucked in the smoke from his thick bucks as he tousled the hair on top of his head, still attempting to spy a diamond or two within these charcoal write ups to inspire him.
I bet that base commander had his hand in this… Having had the names and details of these men and women passed along to him by the clerks of the Illusian command, the White Hunter couldn’t help but feel that the blandness of the descriptions and details were a direct result of Smoker’s earlier snub in the battle. While all of the officers and enlisted within the Marine force were supposedly ‘friends’, the Rear Admiral’s experiences led him to believe that a great number were far worse than a lot of the ‘enemies’ he had fought; petty and bureaucratic, they would strike at your back with their knives before ever daring to face you head on. The underhandedness was something that Rear Admiral Smoker had never developed a taste for, and was probably the reason why he’d never been interested in a role at Marine HQ; that place seemed like a den of corruption and malice, particularly so since Sengoku had stepped down. The Marines were changing, and Smoker wasn’t sure he liked who they were becoming.

Sighing again, this time with breath filled with the whiteness of smoke from his cigar, the former Commodore stood up and strolled across his temporary office, scooping up the loosely ‘Y’ shaped weapon he had leaning next to his coat stand. For a second or two, the eyes of Smoker lingered on something else as he slid his weapon into the holster on his back; a pristine white coat hanging on the hook nearest to him, emblazoned with the word ‘Justice’. Decidedly decadent, the coat was decorated with golden tassels on the shoulders, hanging downward like threads of gold to imply authority of command, and was not really a rare sight amongst the Marine forces; many bore the ‘coat of justice’ over their shoulders as a sign of their authority, but Smoker himself never had. While his own jacket had the same words embroidered into its back, for one reason or another, the White Hunter had always felt uncomfortable about wearing this item of apparel over his shoulders, and did so today as well, choosing to leave it hanging their than drape it over his shoulders as he left his office.
So, where should we start then? Flipping through the profiles that he had brought with him, Smoker had decided that the only way to get a real gauge on someone’s character was to meet them in person; if he had to get new Marines, he wanted to be damn sure they weren’t part of this new wave of characters that seemed to be swelling within the organisation...

[/justify][/blockquote]

[Lord Bromosalino]

Breathing, that was the key. Seemed, well to be honest, unnatural for the talent that was being practiced at out at the range. It was a windy day, but the talented, blonde haired Marine was able to adjust and place his round downrange with minimal effort or trouble. seven-hundred yards, that’ll be one click up. Slowly inhaling, lest the sudden movement of his body moved the heavy rifle from its position. Wind’s picking up, about fifteen miles per hour now. Let’s see; moving south-west to north-east. Three clicks to the left should do it. This was it, the only thing left to do was to slowly and surely pull the metal trigger. Exhaling whatever oxygen remained in his lungs, Vergil Von Fuerst braced himself for the shoot. Seconds later, the Marine Marksman was rewarded with the sight of a red flag being held up from another Marine; direct hit.

And what a shot it was. Even with the ever changing winds, the rotation of the landscape and the gravity pulling the speeding bullet to the ground, friction, and whatever else was happening around him, the Marine grunt had been able to hit his target again. That had made his current score thirty hit (and the last twelve had been consecutive) out of his total of thirty-seven rounds. Not bad; but as always, there was room for improvement. Unfortunately, the once twinkling blue eyes of Vergil’s had gotten to the point of becoming strained from constantly staring down the scope of his modified sniper rifle. Usually, he wouldn’t need a scope, the powers of his Renzu Renzu no Mi (or Lens Lens fruit) would have allowed him to effortlessly pick off targets without the need for a scope, but the range for today was simply too great to deal with. In fact, it was about five-hundred yards too far. Maybe one day he would be able to completely forgo the use of a scope; but until that day happened, Vergil would continue spending the majority of his training sessions peering through a scope, his eyes fixed on the crosshairs. But, right now, it was time to take a break before he did any permanent damage to his eyes.

With a clattering jangling, as pistol rattled against saber, the man pushed himself up; a huff of disappointment followed. Great, I’ll have to get this washed…again. That’ll be the fourth time this week.[/i] To the ordinary eye, there was nothing that could have warranted such a thought. However the ‘clean-freak’ Marine, who had often been called obsessed and paranoid, was not one to let dust and dirt collect and make its home on his military jacket. The unique and out of place, green marine coat which had been sewn much shorter than the coats worn by officers was a dark green instead of the usual blue. Yes, it was different. Yes, it had often been the source of much aggravation and comment by the young Marine’s presiding officer, but the coat was special to him. Like the saber and the officers hat that sat upon his ruffled, blonde hair, these articles belonged to his now retired father, a former Marine officer. However, despite this little quirk, Vergil (though still a ‘rookie’) was displaying many qualities that had often made him wanted by other officers, captains, and commodores upon their vessels. In fact, this was the reason that he was here in the West Blue today. Usually stationed near the very beginning portions of the Grand Line, Vergil Von Fuerst had been called to the Illusia Kingdom as a potential candidate. For whatever mission, or even who the requesting officer was, Vergil wasn’t told. But, the young man was not blind to the world. Commodore Smoker had just fought against an impending threat that had loomed just outside the base’s harbor. If his guess was right, Commodore Smoker was looking to bolster his ranks. Well, that was his guess anyways. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it yet; he hadn’t had any direct contact with his supervising officer for the last two days, and so he was forced to wait.

“Gonna move on to the next distance, ok?” came the voice through the small, black snail. What was the distance, nine-hundred yards? The word difficult might be a bit of an understatement, but what the hell? Nothing that the greatest marksman here couldn’t hit. Controlled breathes, controlled.[/i]

Bang![/i]

[/size]

[shisha]

The sun was very much high in the sky that day, to the point of causing slight sight emparement. She was forced to raise a hand up to sheild her eyes from the suns light. Normally one wouldn't have to worry of such things when on the open seas, thanks in large part to cloud cover and shade from the ship. However, she wasn't just any old sea going traveler. She was a Marine after all. Despite being the lowest of the low, ranking wise anyway. Her skill with the art of swinging her feet and leg muscles was in her mind anyway, possibly the best in the world. As her hand raised up to block the glare of the giant ball of burning fire hovering above her, she let out a small sigh past her soft, painted lips. Her hair blowing casually in the wind. A brief look down at her feet later and she moved her hand back, brushing aside the hair covering, or getting in the way of her face. Her Name was Sukkari, quite possibly the most absent minded Marine to date. Blessed with the awe inspiring powers of a certain Devils Fruit.

As the cloud beneath her receeded, drifted along their path, she took the chance to peer down at the water below her. The way it, from that Elevation, seemed to shine like a mirrored surface. The way the water shifted and moved under its own power. Even the birds that flew along side her were a welcome visit for her. She smiled and waved as the Gulls flew past her, squawking and flapping their long wings. Their presence let her know land was close by, or underfoot in some regards. And sure enough as she looked around, there it was. The Ilusia Kingdom itself. Her smile came rushing back to her cute face, turning into a grin as the Kingdom grew closer and closer. The ground under her feet, or lack of it still kept her aloaft, the powers of her fruit allowing her to quite litteraly walk on air. She had been walking across the sky, just above the cloud line for quite some time now, having walked from island to island before hand. And although she had no real reason for visiting the Kingdom, she still found herself there.

She began to decend from the sky, walking down it like one would a hill, or at the very least a set of stairs, a really long, really high set of stairs. As she grew closer, the people working on docks could make out a shape above them. Forgoing the "Bird or a plane" jokes and / or puns, they simply stared in amazement as the shape grew larger and easier to figure out. Not to mention becoming easier on the eyes. Her Marine jacket rustled in the breeze as she decended, covering the standard shirt all soilders wore, even if said shirt was missing a great deal of mid section covering. The neck line was plunging as well, a fact that was never looked over by most. Her lower attire, the standard pants, blue in colour were actually just that, which for her was surprising, but on her head was a simple standard issue hat, her long hair flowing beneath its edges.

Feet now on the ground she stopped and removed the sunglasses from her eyes, placing them in her pocket before rearing her arms back and above her head, letting out a soft moan as she stretched her limbs and body. Her smile changed to a blank questionable expression however as she noticed that the dock workers and some marines, were flat on their backs smiling, seemingly passed out. With a shrug she procceded to walk over them, across the air again. Walking until her face, which was busy taking in the sights, struck a window. The thud of her head bouncing off the glass was nothing compared to what she saw. In an office a certain Marine stood, not sharing the blank and secretly scared expression she had. Her hand slowly raised up, waving weakily towards him. Sure her voice was muffled through the glass.

"S...Smoker?!. Umm... Sorry?"

[EriChar]

The hand of Rear Admiral Smoker had barely settled on the handle to his temporary office, intent on stepping from it and on with his duties, when his attention was drawn away from his exit and directed towards his window, as a loud thud emanated from the glassy surface which permitted his view of the bay.
What the…? His head snapping around in order to sight the source of the audible disturbance, where the Marine on the lowest run of the Admiralty expected to see the sad sight of a pigeon or seagull slowly sliding down his window, instead the man saw something that was far more unusual; a woman. Of course, the sight of a person outside a window was not, intrinsically, an uncommon occurrence for one to witness, however, in this world in which so many people life, there weren’t very many who had happened to be in a second story room and happened to spy the shape of a woman hanging in the sky outside their window. For a second, Smoker was left to blink, thinking that the image outside of his window was a sign of tiredness or some undetected illness, and it was only when the girl beyond the glass happened to move her mouth and cast the muffled sound of a voice toward him that the Marine managed to fully believe what was happening.

Releasing his grasp on the door’s handle, the Rear Admiral moved away from his door side station and dropped the pile of papers back on his desk, before heading toward the window beyond which the woman seemed to perch on an invisible and non-existent balcony. Closer now to the sight that had drawn him over, any sort of rational explanation, such as the girl being stood on a ladder or at the top of a human pyramid, was proven to be false; this girl was certainly standing atop nothing more than the air outside his window, in a feat that would no doubt inspire awe and amazement in the mind and hearts of any ordinary person that was watching.
A Rokushiki user? Scrutinizing the sight of the woman, the Rear Admiral’s mind stretched to find a logical explanation for the girls current skyward state, and quickly he remembered the unusual martial art he had seen practiced in the Marineford battle, and the rumours of its use in the secret divisions of the World Government’s Police Forces. As the whisperings would say, there were ‘supermen’ in some districts of the world, with strange powers such as cutting walls with their kicks and breaking blades and bones on their steel-hard bodies. Smoker himself had never had much cause to take too in-depth a look at the martial art, given the abilities offered to him by the mastery of his Devil Fruit, one of these powers that had been mentioned in passing was the ability to ‘fly without wings’; to dash across the sky as if running on a walkway made of air.

“Hmmph.” Releasing a grunt of mild annoyance at the distraction, the Rear Admiral pondered his next course of action; while he had observed that the woman was indeed dressed in what looked to be an alteration of a Marine uniform, for some reason, the smoking man couldn’t shake a sense of suspicion at the sight of an unfamiliar woman looming outside his office window, which was only compounded by the fact that she was doing so by hanging in the air as if gravity were something to be casually ignored. To his discerning eye, to Smoker the girl seemed to largely be harmless; experience told him that some sort of spy or saboteur would likely avoid such an attention drawing action like walking into a window of a second story room, and would certainly make some effort to hide themselves if such an accident were to happen. The White Hunter’s best judgement told him that this girl was just some weirdo from the Illusian base, but given the fact that this locale’s current state of disrepair was directly due to the actions of individuals who had seen fit to impersonate Marine officers, his sense of duty and security overwhelmed the desire to simply ignore this girl and walk away; ultimately, safeness was better than sorrow.

As if my day wasn’t busy enough already… With further vexation building from the delay to the Rear Admiral’s ‘talent search’, the white haired marine snapped his hand out to the latch of the window and unbolted the bind, releasing the window for him to simply prod it open and let the air from outside flow into his office. A squall finding chance to enter his office and scatter the mass of papers on his desk all over the room, the annoyance that bubbled within the emotion of the occupant was further brought to the boil as he stood in a stare at the sight of the seaman who hung beyond the confines of his office wall. Silent as the grave, Smoker spent several seconds simply standing and sucking smoke from cigars until he finally broke his muted stance.
“That’s thin ice you’re standing on…” Whether it was an observation of metaphorical or literal sense would be left to those who could fully appreciate the dryness with which the White Hunter’s smoky words were projected, and then the man resumed his stoicism, sucking down more white gas as he offered the floor to his new found company in the sky…

[shisha]

Her face for a moment, a long moment in the confines of her mind, was frozen stiff. After speaking she instantly remembered the rank of this famous Marine, the mistake she'd made in adressing him in such a casual manner. Scared to say anything else she remained silent as Smoker continued to puff out more Cigar smoke behind the glass. One thing she didn't look forward to was breathing in Cigar smoke. After walking arund in the sky for extended periods of time, taking in the freshest of air one could possible manage outside of manufactured Oxygen tanks, Cigar smoke was not a welcome change of pace. Still that nagging thought aside she waited for a response, her eyes scrunching up, fists clenching as he began to speak. Expecting the punishment to be very, direct. But it wasn't, more so there was no punishment to be seen, at all. Her bracing facial expression changed to what it was before, surprise.

“That’s thin ice you’re standing on…”

Almost on instinct she looked down at her feet, as though she'd fallen for the classic "Shoes untied" joke. Realising the comment after a moment of bewilderment she did what she always did in situation like these, or any situations, acted like herself. As Smoker opened the window for her she looked up at him and smiled broadly, saluting with her hand before mockingly marching in through the window. Feet now on solid ground, or at least man made structure, she let out a long and contented sigh, raising her arms above her head much like she did at the docks, stretching her arms and body like a cat would, if it were a bipedal kind of cat. Most likely a Zoan. Hands now firmly on her hips she turned around on her heels and smiled. "It's not Ice Sir, Just air". She looked around Smokers office for a moment, letting her deep resonating eyes take in the little details, but mostly to just get her bearings, before physically turning her head around with the rest of her to do so. His office was, in her mind, depressing and boring, very much the last one.

Attention back on smoker himself she began to stroll over to the Smoke producing man, walking around behind him with curious eyes and almost animal like interigue. She began almost pawing at his jacket, her curiosity getting the better of all her senses, even that of common sense. Her eyes focused on the rod held along his back, forcing her hands to reach up and trail their fingertips down its length. Apparently for too long as she herself realised the actions she was taking, quickly standing stock still, head held up high, as though for a Military inspection. "S-Sukkari Miyako reporting for Duty Sir!...". Her stern expression quickly faded, knowing who she was adressing, her knees felt weak. Suddenly clasping both hands together, swaying her body side to side in some kind of loving awe over his status. "I can't believe I'm standing in front of you sir, I mean this is...I...im sorry i just...is this real?. If it is then..i dont know. Wow. You're like a legend you know...umm...sir." She was babbling, something she tended to do when nervous, yet she tried her best to remain calm, eventually managing to stand to attention after the last word she uttered. In her head though, backflips were being done, as well as the mental image of Smoker in the guise of a rockstar, with Sukkari herself being the typical groupie you'd see outside the dressing rooms.

[EriChar]

’Sukkari Miyako’…? As a man with a reasonable amount of standing and sway within the Marine force, Rear Admiral Smoker had moved into a position whereby he was quite familiar with the ‘big names’ that the Marines had to offer; of course there was that bothersome Hina, the upper echelons of the Admiralty, T-Bone, Very Good, Shuu, those protégé’s of Garp’s were making big news, Coby and the other one… But to his mind, the White Hunter could not summon up any sort of recollection of a prominent Marine by that name, which inferred to him at least that the girl who stood in front of him was still just an infant; not yet spreading the tale of her own ‘justice’.
I guess Tashigi should probably count as well. Thinking of understudy’s, the youngster that Smoker himself had become an unofficial mentor of seemed to be on the cusp of her own legend as a Marine, having been rapidly elevated to the status of a Captain in the last battle. The Rear Admiral didn’t doubt that it wouldn’t be long before she ‘flew the nest’ to take a position on her own command, but for the time being, he had prevented that from happening; perhaps at the cost of his right hand, he surmised, seeing no coincidence in his refusal to release Tashigi and his other captain being claimed instead. Still the game of subordinate hardball was played between Marine commanders, the supposed innocence of a transfer used to take the people close to you, the people you cared about, as hostages to keep you in line. The White Hunter didn’t want to smother anyone by keeping them when they wanted to leave, and he didn’t expect that Tashigi did want to depart, but he knew she wasn’t ready for the ‘big job’ just yet. The things that a commander must do, they weren’t the job for someone who still cried after their mission.

Is this girl… Swooning? The brief consideration of his subordinate’s future was brought to an end when, in front of his eyes, this other young woman who had hopped into his office and life began to sway joyously from side to side, clutching at her chest.
A fangirl? Damnit… A sensation of building discomfort arose through the body of the White Hunter as the girl began to extol her apparent worship of him, the smoking man never having had much of a taste or desire to be seen as anything more than a man doing a job, not some sort of idol or hero for the young to aspire to become. It wasn’t that he was disinclined to people emulating certain of his personality traits, such as his disregard for the doctrine that the Marines seemed to spout; it was just weird for him. As an aloof and largely serious person, his ability to accept the affection of others had been sacrificed for more battlefield-convenient psychological tendencies, so while he would stand firm in the face of a fleet or fierce pirates, in this circumstance, with a girl practically sprouting hearts and flower petals in her adoration of him, there was only one thing that the big, brave Rear Admiral Smoker wanted to do; retreat.
Legend? Makes me sound like some old man… Almost unconsciously, with such a word being linked to himself, Smoker couldn’t help but picture the likes of the now retired Sengoku or Garp; great men in their day, but a day that had long passed. As a Thirty-five year old man, it was by no means comfortable for him to be thrown into the same category as a retiree, even if in a complementary fashion, and despite his usual stoicism, the cheeks of the White Hunter were turned ever so slightly to pink due to the embarrassment.

“I-I’m just a man doing a job, Sukkari Miyako.” A rarely heard vocal stumble was an accompanying sign for the colour in his cheeks, subtly announcing the sense of discomfort that this girl had washed over the Rear Admiral, the man’s foot taking a step back from the window in order to distance himself from this rabid fan.
“And I have a lot of it to do today…” Using the scattered papers around his office as an excuse to break his contact with the girl, the usually unmovable Smoker stooped down and away from the girl and hurriedly gathered his candidate profiles back up, something like a librarian who had dropped their books. Normally far from being even close to a fan of paperwork, in a situation that was making the Rear Admiral as uncomfortable as he felt right now, the scattered sheets of compressed tree-pulp were made to seem like the single greatest invention in the known universe, only further emphasizing the sense of discomfort such attention brought him. Apparently, even someone as brazen as Smoker had moments where they were seized by a sense of shyness.

Why do these troublesome women keep finding me? With the attentions of Tashigi, Hina and that pesky doctor already seeming to make the White Hunter’s life more difficult, the paper grabbing man couldn’t help but question why the women that seemed to barge into his life were always such troublemakers? Was it that all women were like this? Possibly.
“So if you don’t have business in my office, I’ll expect you to leave it and let me get on.” Snatching his paperwork together, the white-haired Marine leapt to the door of his office like a feline fleeing a vacuum cleaner, and swung the door open to make his escape, intent on getting away from yet another wearisome wench before this one as well sank her claws in…

[shisha]

Mental fireworks, the best phrase to describe what was going on in the depths of her mind. Mostly due to the strange sense of acomplishment she felt from making someone as famous as Smoker Stumble in his words. Going as far as to make the smoke human Blush. Blush of all things. The sheer feeling of making that happen made her feel like the winner of some global sporting event, sigified by the symbol of many rings linked together. She felt as though she were standing atop a platform of sorts with a fan fare, fireworks and even her own cheering fans blazing around her. However her mental world faded into sepea tone as Smoker started to, well attempted to almost ask her to leave as it were. Not saying it outright, but hinting at it. Hand on her mouth, pondering, she looked over at the door, then back at him with large, pleading eyes. The eyes you'd expect to see on a calander of puppies, puppies with big pleading cute looking eyes. Puppies climbing into slippers already with other puppies in it.

Although it seemed to fail utterly as Smoker didn't even look her way, instead attempting to return to his work. With a somewhat annoyed pout and the crossing of her arms she turned about face and walked over to the window she had entered in ealier. Grabbing its handle suddenly made her expression turn into a much more devious and, well, evil one. If her hands were not otherwise busy with the window, she would have made the finger pyramid of evil contemplation. So she stopped in mid pull, reversing the action closing the Window stiffly. Her evil expression gone, she marched back over to Smoker, standing behind him as he looked through papers, peering over his form to read the writing upon such documents. Suddenly stepping away from him, standing at attention, even saluting once more.

"I...I'm reporting for duty Smo...Sir!. Anything you need from me I will be happy to do". Her words sounded stupid even to her, knowing that the chances of acceptance were pretty much Zero. Maybe three percent at the most. Thats when she tried her gamble, hoping it would "Convince" him to accept. "Besides... I have nowhere to go currently, which means i'll have to hang around and Haunt you till you say yes". Smiling she walked up into the air, waving her arms around making stupid ghost like noises, walking on the spot to remain hovering in place. She even "Floated" behind him so her face was pretty much level with his, making ghost noises right next to his ear softly, hands tracing along his shoulders. She began walking around above him in circles around his position, still making the stupid noises and arm movements, now upside down so her face was behind the papers. The fact that Smokers higher rank and ability to smack her into the middle of next week completely lost on her.

[EriChar]

Resist it… With the woman now almost literally hanging around him, still intent on following him around despite his own wish to be left alone, there was an awful temptation within both the heart and mind of the White Hunter to coil his fingers around the hilt of the long truncheon that was strapped to his back, and use it to send the girl flying out of his company.
…Nothing to do? Grimacing and forcing down the urge to hit a home run using this girl, the Rear Admiral was somewhat surprised at her statement; while the majority of his own team had been granted a spell of rest and relaxation whilst their new means of transportation was settled, the base as a whole was rather a hive of action and activity, with its garrison of guards working overtime to ensure nobody could take advantage of the current state of disrepair to their own gain, and most of those dedicated to non-essential duties now having some form of temporary re-trade to reinforce the team of carpenters and builders working to restore the base. Whether it was laying down bricks or sweeping up the old debris, there seemed to be something that could occupy the time of this woman, other than bugging him.

“A base as wrecked as this, and you have time to run around as you please?” Never much of a man to mix his words, Smoker raised his brow as he queried his new annoyance, biting down on the cigars in either corner of his mouth to help restrain himself; letting her get a rise out of him certainly wasn’t going to help matters, and he needed to regain the small measure of composure he had lost earlier on. There was definitely something a little suspicious about a strange woman such as this, who had time to stroll the base as she chose, using that odd ability of hers to do so; it wasn’t exactly helping to quiet the alarm bells that had rung in his head earlier on. Taking a step back from the situation and looking at it objectively, ignoring the degree with which this girl’s behaviour irritated and annoyed him, the way in which she seemed to behave didn’t seem very much like your average Marine; flitting around as she chose, completely ignoring the professional distance between the higher and lower ranks, stumbling on the ranks of officers and addressing them by name… These were slip ups that couldn’t be ignored.

It might be a good idea to keep an eye on this one… More suspicious that the woman before him was some manner of spy than ever before, Rear Admiral Smoker decided that the best method was along the lines of ‘keeping one’s enemy closer’; if she had half the skills that those government assassins did, the ordinary MP’s would have no chance of holding her, meaning a warrior like himself was far better equipped to keep this woman in line. Regardless of how much the girl grated on his patience, or perhaps because of it, as an element of his mind reckoned it might be a ploy to get rid of him, Smoker would have to keep this odd girl close for a while.

“Tch, anyway, if you’re so desperate to help, you could point me in the direction of a few of these candidates, if you know them…” Creating a means through which he could maintain her company, and feel the woman out, so to speak, Smoker lifted up the selection of soldier profiles which had earlier been scattered and looked at the one that had been reshuffled to the top; a blonde who seemed to have a fair amount of talent with firearms.
It might be best to get someone with a bit of skill commanding our guns… In the past, on the old White Maiden craft, many of the directions for fire had been given to the cannon operators by the White Hunter himself; not a bad shot with a punch or a pistol, but by no means an expert gunslinger. It would be an asset for his team to have someone with good sense for shooting, and would allow for Smoker himself to concentrate his attention more fully in other areas. Having scooped up that Tomas who displayed a sound mind for strategic offense, the addition of a good gunnery leader would likely allow Smoker to take more of an active role in the combat his team was put through; surely a plus for a commander concerned with the safety of his crew in combat?

“Where would I find this guy, Vergil Von Fuerst?” Plucking the piece of profile-bearing paper from the mass he carried, the Rear Admiral turned it over and shone the picture of the blonde man to his still suspicious aide, well past overdue for getting these recruitments in order…