Like Clockwork (Germany + Switzerland)

[z_faecakes]

The application had been mind-bending, the interview, nerve-wracking, but finally here Vash stood awaiting his code name to be assigned, coinciding with his superiour he'd serve under. Vash had trained long and hard to get where he was, standing in the pristine halls of the Londinium Air Control Headquarters, awaiting the arrival of his superiour. Tension built in his muscles as Vash shifted to one leg slightly. He'd been standing fully erect for about the past 15 minutes or so, waiting in line with the other newly recruited men and women of the air force. He felt uncomfortable standing there, like he stood out. Most of the other recruits seemed much older then he--- or at the very least taller. Part of Vash wondered if he really belonged here... but the militants would've never hired him on were that the case; they weren't fools here just accepting anyone off the streets. This had been the Swiss' native's second time applying as it were.

A loud 'tock' snapped the blonde from his mental ramblings, and his eyes jerked up and fixated onto the clock that laid dead centre above the grand doors. Two minutes to precisely twelve hundred hours. Soon...

Another warning 'tock' as the minute hand moved up yet again. Vash's fists clenched tightly against his sides. Sweat slicked his palms as if he'd been soaking them in hot water. He had no idea whom he'd been assigned to, but no military captain was a lenient one. He felt his adrenaline race from his heart to his neck then pool down into the pit of his stomach as the second hand invisibly reached the thirty second mark. There was no physical second hand on the clock, but that didn't count the ever punctual and obedient private from calculating his time accordingly. Numbers had always seemed to come easy to him.

Fifteen seconds now.... Ten... Five... Zero.

Green orbs locked onto the wooden framed of the door, breathing all but stopped from his person. The perfect sound posture of a newly recruited soldier.

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

The newly promoted Captain Ludwig 'Germany' Beilschmidt forced himself not to fidget, heading toward the receiving room of Headquarters with a handful of fellow officers to formally take control of their first command. This was the reason he had persevered through 7 years of military style education, after all. IT would not do too fidget like a teenage boy in church in front of the enlisted men.

He settled for running through the profiles they had provided him in his head. They were all good men, but a few stood out in the list assigned to him, and he couldn't help but admire the tenacity of the men that would be serving under him while he gained the experience necessary to run a ship of his own. Airman Switzerland's profile showed an ambition that he thought well matched his own and the will to see it through.

Ludwig, at the head of the group, straightened himself and opened the door before proceeding into the room and standing at parade rest in a line that mirrored the rows of recruits. One by one, each new captain stepped forward and reeled off a string of names, before leading their new squads out of the room like so many strings of ants. He stepped forward in turn and with a clear voice recited his own list of names.

He would receive command of his ship in a scant half a year, and it was paramount thathe work well with these men and women.

[z_faecakes]

When Vash's name was called, he obediantly stepped fourth. His steps were sound and all his nerves fell off like leaves of an autumn tree, withering away into the dust. The sound of his harsh boots, clashing against the marble floor rang soundly in his ears as he aproached. Nearing his commanding officer, he gave a swift and respected salute. His green eyes were clear enough to reflect Ludwig's reflection back at him as he starred up to his commander undaunted by his presence. He'd seen scarier men in life, witnessed more horrifying events, he could handle this training. He could.

Saddling his arm back down, snug against his side he proceeded to stand in line with the other line of recruits who'd been assigned.

Commander Ludwig Beilschmidt, Captain Germany. He remembered that name. With the legends the man carried it was hard to forget. Vash certainly had his work cut out for him.

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Ludwig's lips twitched up at the corners in the tiniest non-regulation pleased smile. He couldn't help but respect the discipline shown in the shorter man's every action, even among a line of similarly tested and ready soldiers. Ludwig was aware of his reputation- a soldier as young as he could not have been moved towards captaincy and his own ship this quickly otherwise- but preferred not to think on it. As far as he was concerned he did the job in front of him to the best of his ability, no matter what that might be, whether or not it would be above and beyond others' abilities or it would garner him praise.

Other people with his lineage and connections could sit back and let their relatives' power lead to success. Ludwig preferred to earn it. It did not sit well with him to receive respect without the acions to back it up.
He read out each name in the receiving room he'd lead his new squad to, handing each man his roster file and new rank tabs.
"Airman Zwingli. 'Switzerland'."
"Airman Zwingli."