2021-11-19, 04:14 PM - Word count:
A pair of eyes watched from the back of a police car. The officer driving, a grumpy old man, seemed resolute on just getting the whole thing over with while the person behind, a young man with a smirk on his face, seemed satisfied, for once. The policeman grumbled.
Policeman: Alright, Vercetti. What's with the smirk?
Vercetti: Oh, nothin'. Just looking forward to making more money in a year than you'll do in a decade.
Policeman: Heh. I'd watch your mouth if I were you. Juvi might be better than what you'll get if this flops.
Vercetti: I already have a backup plan if you really are all that curious and talkative. Not any of your business, though.
Policeman: Oh, I know what that plan is. Crime. And then, we'll bust you. Again.
Vercetti: If you're so sure I'll just go back to robbery, then why do you let me go?
Policeman: Not my choice. The deputy fancies herself a "reformer" and she thinks soccer might make you an upstanding member of society.
Vercetti: And you buy that?
Policeman: Hell no. That's why I'm here. I'll be watching you. If you have a working brain, you'll be back here once you're done talking to the good man there.
The car stopped in front of the league's office.
Policeman: Good luck.
Vercetti: Heh. Thanks.
The Canadian kicked the door open, striding towards the interview room. He found himself in front of a wooden door, hearing some moaning. He opened the door in a rush and took a seat, finding a rather boring-looking man with a notebook, hurriedly closing tabs. He placed his hands inside his pockets as the interviewer fumbled his way to a professional state.
Interviewer: S-Sorry for that, mister Vercetti-
Vercetti: I'll overlook your adventures there if you'll just make this interview good. I want to get out of the box and you'll do me a good favour if you make me look good.
Interviewer: A-Ah, well. Can you describe yourself and your story?
Vercetti: *sigh* Name's Squall. Squall Vercetti. Born in Cornwall, Canada. Moved to New York at age 5. Both parents died. Been to an orphanage. Got sent to Juvi seven times. All on charges of theft. Looking towards playing soccer for a living so I'm not stuck on the streets any longer.
Interviewer: You say that but you sound rather articulate.
Vercetti: I'm not an idiot, just a criminal looking to reform.
Interviewer: And that's all?
Vercetti: Yes.
Interviewer: What's your soccer experience?
Vercetti: Watched it a couple of times, played it for six months as a part of reintegration.
Interviewer: ...Yet you're still technically in detention.
Vercetti: Yes. My sentence ends soon, though, so I should be free to play anywhere, assuming the border police doesn't complain too much.
Interviewer: Sir, I doubt you're gonna be picked.
Vercetti: Which is why you're gonna write a really good profile on me so that the teams realize I'm worth signing. Or I can go tell the league's staff that their interviewer was too busy having some fun with a lady called Rosie.
Interviewer: ...You bastard.
Vercetti: See ya on the field.
He kicked his way up, opening the door and closing it with a slam on the way out.
Policeman: Alright, Vercetti. What's with the smirk?
Vercetti: Oh, nothin'. Just looking forward to making more money in a year than you'll do in a decade.
Policeman: Heh. I'd watch your mouth if I were you. Juvi might be better than what you'll get if this flops.
Vercetti: I already have a backup plan if you really are all that curious and talkative. Not any of your business, though.
Policeman: Oh, I know what that plan is. Crime. And then, we'll bust you. Again.
Vercetti: If you're so sure I'll just go back to robbery, then why do you let me go?
Policeman: Not my choice. The deputy fancies herself a "reformer" and she thinks soccer might make you an upstanding member of society.
Vercetti: And you buy that?
Policeman: Hell no. That's why I'm here. I'll be watching you. If you have a working brain, you'll be back here once you're done talking to the good man there.
The car stopped in front of the league's office.
Policeman: Good luck.
Vercetti: Heh. Thanks.
The Canadian kicked the door open, striding towards the interview room. He found himself in front of a wooden door, hearing some moaning. He opened the door in a rush and took a seat, finding a rather boring-looking man with a notebook, hurriedly closing tabs. He placed his hands inside his pockets as the interviewer fumbled his way to a professional state.
Interviewer: S-Sorry for that, mister Vercetti-
Vercetti: I'll overlook your adventures there if you'll just make this interview good. I want to get out of the box and you'll do me a good favour if you make me look good.
Interviewer: A-Ah, well. Can you describe yourself and your story?
Vercetti: *sigh* Name's Squall. Squall Vercetti. Born in Cornwall, Canada. Moved to New York at age 5. Both parents died. Been to an orphanage. Got sent to Juvi seven times. All on charges of theft. Looking towards playing soccer for a living so I'm not stuck on the streets any longer.
Interviewer: You say that but you sound rather articulate.
Vercetti: I'm not an idiot, just a criminal looking to reform.
Interviewer: And that's all?
Vercetti: Yes.
Interviewer: What's your soccer experience?
Vercetti: Watched it a couple of times, played it for six months as a part of reintegration.
Interviewer: ...Yet you're still technically in detention.
Vercetti: Yes. My sentence ends soon, though, so I should be free to play anywhere, assuming the border police doesn't complain too much.
Interviewer: Sir, I doubt you're gonna be picked.
Vercetti: Which is why you're gonna write a really good profile on me so that the teams realize I'm worth signing. Or I can go tell the league's staff that their interviewer was too busy having some fun with a lady called Rosie.
Interviewer: ...You bastard.
Vercetti: See ya on the field.
He kicked his way up, opening the door and closing it with a slam on the way out.
