FIRST CHALLENGEOne of the Turks being pranked on the job by another Turk. Rude whipped practically everything out of his locker. Everything got strewn upon the ground, and he picked through every little scrap and item with a palm full of scalpels. His forehead basted the floor ornaments with gratuitous salinity.
Only when the man's black gym pants fluttered over his shoulder, only to land at Tseng's feet, did his boss step into action, kneeling before his panting, reeling, shaking associate.
"Breathe, Rude, breathe," he said, "lose something?"
And Rude crept his yearning, famished glare upon his boss with such an intensity in his eyes that Tseng could barely fathom, let alone recall. Then again, when was the last time he ever saw Rude's eyes? He even forgot what color they were and even now, they barely registered here.
"Every... last... stinkin' pair!"
Tseng's head shot back as his eyes widened. That was what was missing in this portrait! Not once did Rude ever leave daylight or nighttime without a good pair of aviator's sunglasses. Although eyeglasses were optional or by prescription, the improved power of emotional detachment during confrontations or relations of any kind prompted the agency's resident muscle to adopt them as his watermark.
"Now, calm down," Tseng said, still appealing to reason however possible, "I'm sure there's at least one pair around somewhere...."
Rude immediately clenched and raised a pair, bequeathing it to his supervisor. "Knock yourself out," he chided.
And as soon as Tseng had them on his face, he knew someone had wronged his associate: everything was so green! Obviously, these shades were tainted.
"How do I get my epinephrine going wearing those?" asked Rude. "You've studied psychology, right? You see that color everywhere you go. It's also too cool to use. I could act laid back during a grease fire with those on."
But Tseng chuckled, ignoring the urgency in the man's voice. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do?" he argued peaceably. "You just can't see red--that's your color, right?--can't see red every time someone comes up to speak to you, now can you?"
"I only speak to Reno!" cried Rude, "you know that. And I let him do the talking. Get to the point or talk to these about it." Tseng need not bend his head down to noticed the fists that Rude was clenching.
"Look, all I'm saying is that you can do with green shades for a while. How much do these cost, what, a couple grand? If so, then I'd worry. We'll get to the bottom of this, but for now, I can only recommend a new combination lock for your door there...."
And Rude looked toward it, catching onto the insinuation: inside job. Few had the guts, let alone the panache, to upstage a Turk. And it was another Turk... the only Turk Rude worked with daily.
"Right sir," he replied, nodding. "Let's go."
It took little time to acquire a new padlock from the office, even less to purchase a cheap but reasonably slick pair at a drugstore he passed every day to the building. Upon a couple hours' clear thought, Rude smiled grimly in the rear-view mirror in his upscale Model-7 Sedan, knowing full well Tseng's advice fell not upon deaf ears. They spoke together in the car about it.
"So I suppose Reno's got a lot of explaining to do," said Rude, "or I could just deck him, but that's nowhere near as fun as swiping his goggles off his head."
"No subtlety?" asked Tseng.
"That's his game... only way to win is not to play...." Strange logic, but compelling nonetheless; Tseng half-grinned at the idea of watching the security cameras for either one of them, anticipating such a spectacle. "Thing that cracks me up," continued Rude, "we've been at this a long time... and he knows I always keep spares everywhere, but this is the anniversary, man."
"Anniversary?"
"SHM?"
"...Oh right, that. What's so big about that?"
"Everything's big about that Tseng, you know that. I mean, back then, we started doing things that people don't think of when they think of us. I mean, yeah I'm a professional, but that never included being a philanthropist or a... well, y'know...."
"A hero... in your own fashion?"
"Exactly!" The machine swerved to dodge an obstacle it approached far too quickly; Rude eyed his speed at forty through a narrow Edge City intersection. Even twenty-five was pushing it at this hour. Far be it for him to make speeches or get riled enough to lose control of any sort of vehicle, be it a chopper or his own pair of high-end wheels....
"There were plenty of things that didn't make sense then," quipped Tseng, "but you were different when you were off duty, weren't you?"
"Sir... what we did back then is kind of the reason why I hold this day as, you know... sacred! Then Reno goes and swipes my shades on me. Call it poetic justice."
"I still don't see the connection."
"I wrote it in my report!"
"You write reports?"
Rude had to snort to that. He fought the smile, of course, but approach this man on the street, noting the shaved head and innumerable piercing adorning his ear, and you are leery to think he could push a pen, black suit or no black suit. No, he belongs in the dark alley, pushing something else.
"The SHM," he elucidated, "smashed my shades."
Tseng cocked an eyebrow, glancing to his associate. "That's right," he said, suddenly in a mood to remember the fine print of a report, "and you had to replace them with your spare...?"
"Right," said Rude, "even Reno saw it. I guess he's the only one who'd pull something like this. Motive, ability, everything."
How foolish of him, then.
Tseng let his blind associate concentrate on the road while he adjusted himself in the passenger seat; special emphasis upon his right pocket. It was neither mistake nor circumstance that allowed Tseng to decipher a combination lock; he already knew them by heart, each and every single one. Also, he looked over Rude's shoulder as he acquired his new lock--not quite company requirement for a supervisor to know a combination lock, but it is treated mostly as a security measure--so he patted the mysterious bulge in his pocket with visions of glory dancing above his cold smile.
So how much would one pay for a pair of authentic Turk sunglasses?
Time Elapsed: um... like an hour or so?
I make no qualm about the methods how I work: I work with an emphasis on quality, having established exemplary typing speed and a preference to choose words carefully. Already I noticed a few mistakes such as not properly describing Tseng's pocket, but I was in a rush to finish, having realized the end to this small tale.