Summary:Gwen Stacy receives a very unexpected job offer, from a man who introduces himself as Hashi Chinichi. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It's late in the afternoon at the University, but there's still a healthy crowd of students and staff, variously going to and from courses, cafeterias, offices, and just generally milling around. One of these students is Gwen Stacy; the young blond woman is seated by herself at a table in one of the areas set aside for relaxing and eating, and is at least doing the latter; she has an open can of coke and a pair of corndogs lined up, one of which is half eaten. The relaxing part she isn't doing so much; looks like someone has a lab assignment she's up to her eyeballs in. Though to the uninitiated it'll basically just look like she's drawing a bunch of hexagons with letters in the corners.
The Los Angeles Yakuza, under Shoko Ishiguro, had been ordered into a perhaps rash maneuver, months ago. Old Oyabun Shoko, had decided on one final war, before he passed into the halls of legend, as the Godfather of the Japanese Mafia that opened up America to Japanese ultranationalism.
Shoko knew, that the final battle, was the most dangerous, for it was the one that never needed to be fought. He grew up in Japan, having felt the sting of the nuclear fire, as a young boy. These sparks placed him here, in America, watching New York City from his palatial estate in the foothills of northern California. Japanese ultranationalism had been defeated in the halls of soldiering, but that flag was still at Shoko Ishiguro's heart. The Americans knew love, and now the Japanese did so as well.
Shoko Ishiguro smiled upon this, as their mistake.
A Japanese man, of diminuitive height but respectable dress, walked quietly and carefully amid the students, dressed in a sharp black suit with a thin black tie. His hair was cut closely to his head, and he wore a pair of large, double-barred glasses, a research administrator with an expensive business degree and a master's in scientific theory from a rare European university pedigree to complement it.
The man was named Hashi Chinichi, an assumed alias, and he was quite well known among corporate circles for his masterful financing of computer technology used by the American government. He was Ishiguro Industries' chief scout, for new talent, and he had come to New York City, weeks after the Times had reported that Ishiguro Industries was building a new facility in the Big Apple.
Hashi stopped before Gwen Stacy's table, clasping his hands before him.
"Miss Gwen Stacy?" he asked, in a basso, but sharp voice, with a neutral, pleasant smile.
Gwen is, of course, plugged into her earbuds; or rather the buds are plugged into her ears, a fact that so-named Hashi would probably pick up on. She continues bobbing her head up and down to a tune, draws some more pictures of molecular structures, has a bite of her corndog and swallows it, and then abruptly realizes that someone is, in fact, talking to her.
"OH!! Sorry," she exclaims, thumbing her phone to pause the tune (something energetic and full of drums) and pull the earbuds out. "I wasn't really expecting anyone to come and talk to me," she adds as her cheeks turn bright red. She sets her pencil down, and looks kind of lost for a moment; I mean… how do you properly great an impeccibly dressed Japanese man who's just turned up at your table in the middle of the University. "Uhm… sorry, what can I do for you? I didn't quite catch what you said over my music."
Hashi offers a throated, brief chuckle, looking down at the table as Gwen blushes.
"I was merely inquiring, Miss, for Gwen Stacy."
Hashi raises his gaze again, a buoyant aire coming to him.
"I am a corporate recruiter looking for Miss Stacy, for a scholastic opportunity with my company." Hashi unclasps his hands, placing them levelly at his sides, a bit of uncomfortable rigid stiffness, however confident, to his posture. "Her name came up in a registry of potential internship candidates."
The blond girl leans back a little, and her brow creases. "I don't… remember joinined a registry," she mumbles. "I *am* Gwen Stacy, and I'm totally impressed that you correctly picked me out of a crowd." She thinks things over for a moment, before pushing her chair back and standing up; seems polite anyway, since Hashi is still standing also.
"I have to ask, though, why me? I mean I'm only two weeks into my first year of post-secondary, and I don't think I'm quite at the top of my class. Top quarter, sure." Gwen pauses, tucking her thumbs into her pockets. "I mean, not that I'm not flattered, mind you."
Hashi looks delighted that he's found his lady, and his eyebrows raise, as his lips part and he offers an open toothed grin.
"My firm, Ishiguro Industries, has many contracts, and my division has an interest in mainframe components sold to the American government. You come from a family of civil servants, so you naturally qualify for proper clearance, which makes my job considerably easier."
He ducks his head, that explained, extending his hand.
"I hope we do not offend you."
Gwen shakes her head quickly, "No, not at all. I'm just surprised, I wasn't expecting to be offered a position at a big company today, that's all. Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression." She pauses, tapping her lip with one finger. "Well, I'm definitely interested," she continues. "But I'd have to know quite a bit more, and give it some thought, if that's alright? My Father would definitely be unimpressed if I rushed into something."
"A proper father is only impressed if you do not, Miss Stacy."
He claps his hands together, excited to have her ear.
"My name is Hashi Chinichi, I am a research administrator and corporate talent recruiter for Ishiguro Industries. We produce median stage commodities for finished goods in the electronics industry. Much of our work is not to the purview of the public without an official inquiry, however I will inform you of my intent for your internship."
Hashi gestures to Gwen's table, where she was sitting, as he hustles down to the table, losing the appearance of a formal business man and instead becoming a fellow science nerd. Namely, the business management variety.
"A research division producing a new coolant piping requires hygiene standards being tested, which includes biological agents and infectious materials getting into the mainframe piping, for United States government contracts. That is your specialty, biochemistry. The purpose for approaching you, as an individual, is for closer ties to the New York City university system, for many more internships in the future. We are based out of Los Angeles, and do business worldwide."
He places his hands on the table, the blades of his hands on the tabletop and his fingers extended, fingers spread and meeting across the table. It is clear he is a practiced martial artist.
"We have just established operations in New York City, hence these univerity ties being important."
Gwen retakes her seat, giving a quick hurry as she cleans up her lab assignment and pushes the corndogs out of the way, little paper baggy and everything. There isn't really anywhere she can put the coke so it just stays there where hopefully it won't become a casualty.
"Well, I gues that makes sense," she acknowledges. "Close ties to the universities, I mean. I'm sure you'll be looking to funnel some of the best and brightest into your employ, yes?" She leans back a bit in her seat; the fact that the man knows how to handle himself almost escapes her notice, but she's watched far too many kung fu movies (some better than others) to overlook it entirely. Not that it seems to matter; she's fairly sure Hashi isn't going to kung fu her here and now if she declines.
"I'm assuming you're going to want to have an interview," she adds. "But it definitely sounds interesting. I'm certainly curious enough to hear more?"
"Very good, Miss Stacy, education is very important to us, as a major corporation, and we believe that universities are the chief allies of modern capitalism. The political causes, new perspectives, and civil charity, is very important to learn in this modern day."
Hashi looks serious, now, opening his hands by parting his thumbs. "Our corporate CEO, believes very much, in a new type of industry, where the ethics of modern Japanese commerce, can blend with the ancient traditions of contemplative craftsmanship. A modern commercial agent of Japan, believes in loyalty to the people, the purpose of money merely the exchange of support. The ancient tradition of creating a future professional, goes back to our most ancient days of creating terraces and bridges and castles, the temple of our society our victory over nature through submission."
He closes his steepled gesture again. "If you accept, you will merely have to go to our provisional office, here in the city. The internship, besides a corporate endorsement from us, and our many peers, will offer you the standard honors and merits with your university that any internship program would offer." He smiles beatifically.
"Loyalty is always a two way street," Gwen points out. "And I promise I'm not going to repeat everything my Father's said to me over the years." She leans forwards, resting her elbows against the edge of the table, and managing to look not so much like a trained fighter and everything like a university student. Fortunately, she's not ditzy (or if she ever appears to be, it is certainly an act).
"But I can get behind a company that looks after its people. That's something I respect; there's too many companies out there that, to my mind, just use their employees like wheels in a machine, with little care to their wellbeing."
Gwen bobs her head, "Well, alright, I'm game. I'd like to come and see the place where I'd be working though, before I give a firm answer? Would that be alright?"
Hashi presses his lips downwards, in respect, at Gwen Stacy's wooden resolve.
"Very well, Miss Stacy, we will take you on a tour of the facility, as we conduct your interview. We will make a mutual decision, then, as to your future with the company."
Hashi Chinichi removes his hands from the table and pulls his jacket open with manicured fingers and reaches into a silk sleeve sewn inside, removing a business card after a moment of fishing and fiddling. He places it on the cafeteria table, with a single tap of his forefinger.
"This the number at the office, with my personal extension, should you wish a private conversation about your future. The university liaison will speak to you, and arrange your tour and interview with the facility chief of staff. The site is not complete at this time, but you will see the operations that you will be involved in at a fundamental level." He places his palms on the edge of the table and presses back in his chair in an unusually practiced and graceful maneuver in a college-designed dining hall seat, before standing and straightening his jacket.
"Thank you for your consideration, Miss Stacy. You are an able student, and I see a bright future for you, even if you do not take our offer."
The young student gives the business card a quick look over, before she tucks it away in a plastic card holder she produces from one of her pockets; the kind of thing you keep your debit card and visa and stuff in, along with anything else you don't want to get, well, bent.
"Thank you very much," she replies. "I'll be in touch very soon, and I'm definitely looking forward to seeing the place." She tucks the little case back where it came from, and bobs her head once more. "Really, I am flattered. Working for a company that's on the cutting edge would certainly be a treat." She stands up herself, albeit not with nearly so practiced a manouver, though she does manage to avoid scraping the chair across the floor. "It was good to meet you, Mr. Hashi Chinichi," she adds, offering a handshake (a touch awkwardly, does one shake hands at these things?) along with perfect pronounciation of Hashi's name; apparently watching all those Kung Fu movies is paying off.
Hashi gives Gwen a single, vigorous pump, bowing forward and maintaining eye contact, with a pleasant grin, in a falsely diminuitive way misinterpreted by Americans as a servant, but actually a knowing penetration of a racial stereotype in another culture - the grin indicating he's flattered.
"Thank you for your time."
Hashi releases Gwen's hand, the faint scent of sandalwood left behind, and he moves back through the students, his poise indicating that he's on the way to meet with yet another student.
Gwen watches for a moment, an eyebrow quirked upwards; then she settles back down in her seat, and pulls the business card back out to look at it, as if it's going to give her some sort of answer. (Spoiler alert; it doesn't.) She turns it over, scrutinizes the back, then puts it away again. She shrugs her shoulders lightly, plugging her earbuds back into her ears, resuming her music, and getting her lab assignment back out, though it's a few minutes of staring at the page and no actual working.
"What have you gotten yourself into this time, Gwen?" she mutters to herself, befoe she shakes her head and resumes the drawing of molecules.