“Please, do tell of this new…fellow,” inquired Marcus. Marcus was the “Mayor” of The City of Jump. A boisterous, powerful albeit odd and somewhat dull individual. He had a peculiar dialect, often speaking in fragments and his physical mannerisms were even less desirable. As in less desirable, it was usually in an “opposite” sort of way. When Marcus was delighted to see someone, he would sit stone at his desk with one hand resting lame. The other hand gently touching on the side of his face with his bulky index finger pointed skyward, keeping one eyebrow raised. When Marcus was miffed, he would sit casually at his desk with his hands clasped together and his feet atop.
Marcus also had an offbeat style of dress, which was fitting for the environment as it showed the power of an individual wearing this style, but would be looked as clownish anywhere else. Marcus’ outfit was like the style of an archetypal mayor, one that would be seen in a children’s cartoon. His outfit consisted of a long amethyst purple tailcoat, with slacks consisting of amethyst and eggplant stripes, an eggplant-colored top hat with an amethyst band, a large cobalt bowtie with white polka dots, a cobalt vest, black dress shoes with white spats, white gloves, and an orange rosette ribbon on the left chest of his tailcoat. A large white sash laid over his right shoulder across his abdomen, with the words “Mayor” printed in dark blue letters.
Marcus was a large gentleman, but the term gentleman was relative since he tried to speak like he was, though it was evident both halves of his brain started the world’s longest game of tug o’ war. His body was not gentleman like either for he was tall and round and thudded with every step he took. The buttons on his shirt and vest threatened to burst at any moment, and so did his office. In fact, his office was minute for someone of his stature and position. A small, confined space almost like a solitary confinement cell. The lack of space was more than likely a physical manifestation of his intellect.
“Well?” inquired Marcus once more, with his black corporate beard moving with his cheeks.
“Huh? Wuh?” Asked Zeb, Marcus’ right-hand man. Still half intoxicated from last night’s escapades as he stood slumped in front of Marcus’ desk.
“Tell me more of this fellow,” inquired Marcus.
“Cool dude, I guess. Although seems a lil different than the other dudes,” answered Zeb.
“Well, tell me more?” Inquired Marcus mildly annoyed.
“We’ll, on his resume it says…” struggled Zeb.
“Resume? Not many of those come through…here,” Marcus wondered.
Marcus stood up swiftly, pacing around a few seconds twiddling his thumbs. “Mmm… alright, let’s give this young man a shot,” said Marcus. He jumped back into his chair and said, “Besides, he had the…uh…nerve to call us.”
“So, what now boss dude?” Asked the now puzzled but disinterested Zeb.
“Well…well…call this fellow back and tell him that he is to report for training first thing at o’seven hundred hours sharp on… er…Thursday…uh…morning,” Marcus struggled.
“Will do boss man,” said Zeb.
“Well go on then…shoo shoo!” Marcus rushed.
Zeb then slumped off slowly out the damp and dimly lit office shutting the hard metal door idly. Then Marcus leaped out of his chair, looked at the stone-cold dark walls of the windowless room and said, “It’s been a while.”
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II
Bang! Bang! Bang! Someone knocked on the hard metal door leading to Marcus’ office the next morning. He leaped out of his rickety wooden cracked chair and skipped over to the door to answer the knocking. Unlocking the door, he opened it to see an interesting figure standing in front of him. A young man in his late teens twiddling his thumbs. This young man had on a pair business professional attire, complete with a dark blue suit and red tie. His hair was short, black and was neatly combed with a small amount of gel, a rather clean-shaven gentleman who wore no cologne. Nothing to hide.
This young man’s face and stature was a peculiar sight to behold. Not a speck of whiskers to be seen and eyes made of baby blue that could stop a pigeon from above to a screeching halt. Not only could his eyes stop a pigeon, but so could his skin with how pale he was. Even though this young man had a sophisticated mannerism, his clothes were not fitting as if he were a child playing dress up in his father’s work clothes. The young man was also rather short, and very slight standing around five-six. “Mr. Marcus, I presume?” The young man inquired in a very cavalier tone, though he also sounded unsure of himself. “That’s…me,” said Marcus. “Greetings, I’m David,” said the young man and went to shake Marcus’ hand. Marcus stared puzzled. “David…David…now where do I remember that name…” overhearing Marcus’ not so discrete mumbling, David said “I made a call yesterday regarding a meeting at seven?” “That’s right!” Marcus thought aloud to himself, it was now a little past seven on Thursday of that same week and Marcus was surprised at David for showing up on time. “Splendid…I remember…you,” struggled Marcus with uncertainty. “Come in and have a…stand,” Marcus said as there were no chairs to sit in other than the one behind his desk. David felt at slight unease at his surroundings. The dim lighting reminded him of a prison cell and the large monitor on Marcus’ desk felt imposing. There was a schedule to his left on a clipboard, with many pages on it. Behind him, on the metal door, was an old, wrinkled poster with a police officer wearing a red uniform shirt, navy cap and pants. The officer gave a thumbs up sign as he stared directly into David’s eyes. However, the face of the officer looked uncertain to him, accompanied by a crooked smile. This was something hard to notice from a distance, but failed to escape the attention of the teenage onlooker.
Marcus skipped over to his near broken chair and leaped into it, which creaked as his heavy rear landed. He started his usual “good mood” with one hand rested on his face pointing that bulgy index finger of his skyward with his other hand on his desk. In a deep and still groggy voice, he asked “Tell me a uh…little more about…yourself?” David was still looking around the room nervously as his thumbs still participated in a non-consensual fencing match. He took a quick look around the room, seeing how dimly lit it was by a hanging measly flickering light bulb from above, covered by a small lampshade. Gulping nervously, he said “Well, I-”.
“That’s all we needed to…hear, your hired!” Rushed Marcus.
David with a puzzled expression asked “Already?”
“Yes my…boy,”
“How?”
Marcus was astonished, and David began to open his mouth once more and said, “I haven’t-”. “You want the job don’t…you?” Marcus interrupted quickly. “Well…yes, most certainly,” hesitated David with a lack of sincerity. Marcus then stated “Well then, this job you shall…have.” “Well, why thank you most kindly sir,” exclaimed a somewhat suspicious David. David went to shake his hand again, but Marcus just looked at him confused as he did earlier. Putting his left hand back into his pocket, David asked.
“When do I start?”
“Tomorrow, right after I show you to the Training Room, there you will um…meet the…others,” said Marcus.
“Sound’s great. Where is this room?” David asked as he began to walk out of the damp office room.
“Follow…me,” Marcus instructed.
Marcus then escorted David to the hallway in front of the office, with the lobby as its only light source. From there they took a left from the entrance to the office, down a long and fairly narrow hallway, and stopped at a rather thick and short locked metal door. Marcus pulled out a large circular keychain with numerous keys to unlock the door. “Welp here we…are,” Marcus sighed. The room was pitch black, and when David stepped inside, he began to say “Thank-”, but Marcus slammed the door shut before David could finish.
David stood semi-anxious in the dark and seemingly empty room. Pitch dark, not a single light to be seen even under the crack of the door he just came through. Though David was starting a nervous breakdown internally, he was able to keep his gentleman like composure. Only a few seconds passed before he started to become ever more worried. Since there was no way back, he started to feel for a light switch on the wall. Afterwards, he started to twist the door handle frantically. There was no need since the lights came on with a flash. “Got the first job jitters I presume?” Asked a light chuckling female voice. David now turned red from embarrassment, still facing the door. “Well don’t be frightened young man, come and sit down with us,” said the woman in a gentle voice. “Are you well, fellow?” The woman chuckled, expecting an answer that never arrived. “Relax, you do work here now after all. Come sit down, my dear,” said the woman. David still with a confused expression on his face croaked “My apologies,” as he cleared his throat, dusting himself off. There was a tall thin black-haired woman with rectangular glasses standing in front of a projector screen at the far back of the room in the exact center of the wall, with rows of spotless white tables and benches set up in the middle of the room.
There were only two people in this room excluding David. The tall woman and Zeb. The woman who stood in front of the board wore an amethyst double-breasted jacket, with navy epaulettes and double stripes around the cuffs, a black Sam Browne belt, a dark navy octagon cap and matching knee skirt, a pair of black calf-high riding boots on her pale legs, and a matching purple shirt and navy tie rested beneath her jacket. Her jacket and cap had a silver shield badge and device with a navy blue trampoline in its center. The shoulders of her jacket contained a black shield shaped patch with a gold trampoline emblem in its center, akin to her badge and cap device. She was thin and pale, which caused her black lipstick and nail polish to shout atop her skin. Zeb’s outfit was sloppy compared to hers. He wore a purple tank top, black high-ankle combat boots with a pair of navy slacks hanging sloppily over them, a navy-blue bandana with white polka-dots on the top of his long black hair, and a small sapphire diamond earing on his right ear. He sat in the far-right corner on a metal chair, looking downwards chewing on his ponytail scoffing to himself. Then he looked up and spoke. “Don’t be shy man, it’s all good. Have a seat bro,” David said nothing and sat down, then the seminar began.
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