#office relocation specialists

[commercialselfstorage]

The Essential Tips For A Smooth Office Relocation In 2023

There can be a lot of work involved in relocating an office. A smooth relocation requires careful planning, communication, and execution to ensure that the business's operations are not disrupted during the process. In the current global environment, relocating an office to 2023 presents a unique challenge that must be overcome. There may be an element of hope in the roll out of the vaccine, but it is also important to remember the uncertainty that still surrounds the pandemic. Consequently, it is imperative that you heed the tips below in order to guarantee that your secure office relocation goes smoothly and successfully.

Getting a head start on planning is important

The process of relocating an office can take a considerable amount of time. It would be best if you could start the process as early as possible so that you will have enough time to ensure all the details are covered. First of all, depending on the size of the business, you may need to put together an internal committee to oversee the whole process. It is recommended that the committee consists of representatives from various departments in order to ensure that it has a well-rounded appearance.

Make sure you hire movers who are experts in their field

Office relocations are highly dependent on the professionalism and expertise of the moving company. With the right professional movers on board, you can ensure that the office inventory gets to the new location in perfect condition and on time. Research is paramount if you want to find office relocation companies London that have experience and a good reputation for moving services. Also, the movers should be insured, licensed, and should adhere to a number of industry regulations.

Plan out a communication strategy that works for your business

The relocation process is a time when communication is crucial. It is your responsibility to keep the staff aware of the progress of the move before the actual day of the move arrives. It would be best to establish channels of communication, such as email lists, social media groups, and individual meetings. Keeping the staff informed about the move and reassuring them that their jobs are secure is the goal of the communication.

Make a detailed inventory of all the items you want to sell

Planning and coordinating a move of an office requires a great deal of effort. It is imperative that a detailed inventory is made of all the items that will be relocated. Among the items included in the inventory should be equipment, furniture, and personal belongings. By categorizing your items, you will be able to keep track of each item and ensure that it reaches its destination in a timely manner.

Be sure to back up important files and documents on a regular basis.

If your office relocates, it is possible that you will lose important files and documents as a result. As a result, it is essential to make a backup of your files and documents. In order to ensure the documents remain safe, it would be a great idea if you made multiple copies of them in separate locations, just in case something unexpected was to happen to the originals.

As a business owner, you must carefully plan, communicate, and execute a relocation of your office before you can begin the process. The following tips will provide you with a framework to ensure a smooth and successful move if you follow them. Starting the planning process early, working with professional movers, communicating with staff, creating a detailed inventory, and backing up vital files and documents are all critical factors that will help ensure a successful office relocation 2023.

Universal Commercial Relocations - Office Relocation London will help you move your business

There is no better choice than Universal Commercial Relocation – Office Relocation London if you are looking for a reliable and professional moving company in the UK. You can feel confident that our team of experienced movers will ensure that your move will be as stress-free as possible thanks to their commitment to quality. In addition to offering an extensive range of moving services, we also provide packing, transportation and storage services, so we can cater to all the needs of our customers.

You may contact us today at 0208 575 1133 or by email at info@ucr.uk.com if you would like to learn more about our services or receive a free, no-obligation quote. Please feel free to contact us at any time and we will respond promptly to any questions you may have. With our team being there for you from beginning to end, you will be able to enjoy complete peace of mind during your move.

[qualitygroupusa]

The Role of Technology in Modern Commercial Space Planning - The Quality Group

The introduction of new technologies has transformed the field of commercial space planning. Technology has changed the way firms approach space planning, from design and visualization tools to smart building management systems. In this article, we will look at the role of technology in modern commercial space planning and the benefits it provides to organizations. To know more visit https://qualitygroup-usa.com/ or call us at (833) 756-0103.

[alliancerelocation]

Smooth Office Relocation Services for Your Business Needs

Waiting for that seamless office move that doesn’t leave your team exhausted? Relocating a workplace is no small feat. Whether you’re shifting a small team or an entire corporate setup, having the right Office Relocation Specialist by your side can make all the difference. At Alliance Relocation Group, we understand the unique challenges businesses face during a move and take pride in simplifying the process for you.

Why Should You Trust a Specialist?

Tailored Solutions: Every office has specific needs—from delicate equipment to bulky furniture—and it’s crucial to adapt to different requirements.

Expert Coordination: From packing and organising storage to managing logistics on moving day, a specialist ensures that every detail is accounted for.

Modern Techniques: Advanced tools and efficient strategies ensure a smooth relocation without unnecessary delays.

Wide Range of Services: From commercial offices to industrial moves, specialists cater to various sectors with precision.

What Sets Alliance Relocation Group Apart?

Stress-Free Process: With every box packed and every schedule perfected, we handle your move with expertise so your team can focus on business.

Affordable Rates Without Compromise: Businesses deserve quality service that aligns with their budgets.

Recognised and Recommended: Endorsed by leading organisations, we’re a trusted name in Melbourne’s corporate circles.

Your office deserves a seamless transition, so why leave it to chance? Opt for an Office Relocation Specialist who values your time and priorities.

Reach out today by calling us on 03 9681 7577 or emailing info@alliancerelocations.com.au. This is the solution your move has been waiting for!

[chamberlainsremovals]

Dronfield House Movers - Expert Help for a Seamless Move

Relocating to a new home can be both exciting and stressful. The process of packing, organizing, and transporting belongings requires careful planning. In Dronfield, the demand for efficient, hassle-free relocation services is growing as more families seek support to make their move smooth and stress-free. Whether it’s managing heavy furniture or organizing delicate items, professional house movers play a vital role in ensuring a seamless relocation experience.

Efficient Dronfield Residential Relocation for Families

Moving to a new home can quickly become overwhelming without the right support. Choosing a reliable service that specializes in Dronfield residential relocation can take the stress off your shoulders. Professional movers help manage everything from planning the logistics to ensuring safe transport, enabling you to focus on settling into your new home. These services cater to the unique needs of Dronfield residents, from small apartments to larger family homes, guaranteeing that every move is handled with precision and care.

Why Work with Dronfield Residential Moving Specialists

When relocating, every detail matters. Dronfield residential moving specialists understand the importance of customized services. They offer flexible scheduling, packing assistance, and careful handling of belongings. Their local expertise allows them to navigate Dronfield’s neighborhoods easily, ensuring timely delivery. From antiques to bulky furniture, professional movers ensure that each item is transported securely, giving homeowners peace of mind throughout the process.

Benefits of Using Dronfield Household Removals Services

Hiring a company experienced in Dronfield household removals offers several benefits. With access to proper equipment and skilled movers, they handle everything from fragile items to large appliances. Additionally, professional movers offer insurance coverage, adding a layer of protection in case of any unexpected mishaps during transit. These services are designed to streamline the moving process, reducing the physical and emotional toll that moving can bring.

In conclusion, professional house movers in Dronfield are essential for those seeking a smooth and efficient relocation. Their expertise ensures that every aspect of the move, from packing to delivery, is managed professionally. For a reliable and seamless moving experience, We Do Your Move stands as a trusted partner, providing top-tier service to residents in Dronfield and beyond.

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[moversdubai]

Furniture Moving Made Easy: Mmovers Dubai

Experience hassle-free furniture moving with Mmovers, Dubai's trusted specialists. Our skilled furniture movers ensure safe, affordable, and efficient relocation services. Get a free quote and enjoy a stress-free move today!

[mtcofficeremovals01]

Get The Best Office Removals London Services

MTC Office Removals London is just the right Office Relocations Company that you can trust for quick and efficient service. You won't have to worry about spending more time on this activity than is necessary when working with a team of experts. We are a corporate relocation London company that offers Crates, Storage & Removal.

[justforbooks]

Charles Handy

Philosopher and management thinker who coined the phrase ‘portfolio’ career, and believed companies should retain their humanity

For a country that prides itself on its professional and financial services sector, the UK has produced remarkably few world-ranking management and organisational thinkers. At the very top of that pile, however, is Charles Handy, the writer and social philosopher – his preferred designation – who has died aged 92.

As both a thinker and educator, Handy was unusual. Although a professor – he was a founding faculty member of the London Business School (LBS), the UK’s first graduate business school, in the 1960s – he never followed the conventional path, ploughing a narrow furrow and publishing in specialist journals.

What he did was think, about the big human issues of business, society and democracy, turning his thoughts, often anchored in his own experience, into books, articles and talks with characteristically evocative titles such as The Age of Unreason (1989), The Empty Raincoat (1994), The Hungry Spirit (1997) and The Second Curve (2015). They gained him an international audience and global sales of more than 2m.

In his ability to perceive and articulate developments in the world of work before they crystallised, and in his big-picture approach, Handy took after another atypical European academic, Peter Drucker, dubbed the “father of management”, whom Handy admired. Handy was writing about the future of work as early as 1984, foresaw an era of discontinuous change in The Age of Unreason – his breakthrough book – as well as predicting the advent of the gig economy, remote working and the fragmentation of the traditional career. The “portfolio life” was his coinage, which he defined by living it.

In management terms, Handy’s legacy is his steadfast defence of the company as an evolving community of people rather than a machine or set of contracts. This was based on an unshakeable belief in humanity – “humanity will triumph – people need people”, he said in a podcast interview in 2021, at the height of a pandemic lockdown.

To thrive, a company had to make space for human purpose, human balance and human fulfilment. “Doing your best at what you are best at,” was his Aristotelian recipe, adding “for the benefit of others” at the end. This fed into his belief that the organisation of the future needed to be flexible, decentralised and built on trust rather than formal hierarchy and a rule book.

Born in Ireland, in Clane, Co Kildare, the son of Joan (nee Scott) and Brian Handy, a Protestant clergyman, Charles went to Bromsgrove school, Worcestershire, then studied classics at Oriel college, Oxford, from which he absorbed influences that marked his thinking throughout his life.

Just as formative was his first job at an outpost of Shell in Borneo in 1956, only doubly so: first because it was while there that he met Elizabeth Hill, then working at the British High Commission in Singapore, at a party in Kuala Lumpur, and second because, with her trenchant help, it showed him what he did not want to be. They married in 1962.

The epiphany came in 1965, when he found himself back in London, in an anonymous shared office at Shell HQ, greeted by a three-page list of responsibilities on his desk with no name on it. That struck him as not very human. Liz more forcefully gave him to understand that seeing the adventurous expat she had met and married turn into a dull office drudge was not part of their life’s plan.

Instead he relocated to the US – another formative experience – to attend the Sloan executive study programme at Massachusetts Institute of Technology, from which he returned to London in 1967 to set up a UK version of the programme at the LBS.

He endowed it with a humanistic cast far removed from the usual finance and quantitative orientation. “Charles always had a sense of what it is to be human,” his friend and close LBS colleague Lynda Gratton said. “He inspired students, readers and friends to think more deeply, question more profoundly and live a life nearer to being human – with all its complexities and questions.”

Handy left LBS for a four-year stint as warden of St George’s House at Windsor Castle (1977-81), a sort of spiritual thinktank, before, again egged on by Liz, deciding to quit and go freelance as a writer and speaker. They reorganised their life, and, half-joked Handy, rewrote their marriage contract.

Henceforth they would split the year in two, with the work of first one, then the other, taking priority. Liz became his formidable agent as well as resuming her own career as a successful photographer – they subsequently collaborated on several books – and their time would be spent half in their former farm labourer’s cottage in rural Norfolk and half in their London home. They also shared cooking duties for the many visitors who arrived at both places to discuss world events, photography and politics over a generous lunch.

Relishing the new regime, Handy launched into a series of books that conquered an audience stretching far beyond business types. In fact, the latter were sometimes dismayed by what he had to say. He rejected shareholder capitalism, deeming shareholder ownership of companies a fiction and a fraud, and fretted that big corporations had become “prisons of the soul”.

For him, “good organisations are like a small English village. Everyone knows each other and what the other does. There’s no job title, you’re just Charles or Liz, and you help each other out. It’s not owned, people belong to it.” In those circumstances, management becomes a matter of common sense, not the technocratic exercises described in the textbooks he scorned.

If Handy’s writing style was conversational and accessible, his speaking could reach heights worthy of the ancients he had learned from. This was done without bravado, PowerPoint or notes, but with a quiet intensity that made every listener feel as if he was addressing them personally.

It was there that his inner firebrand sometimes surfaced. Few of those present will forget his closing speech, or the spontaneous standing ovation it prompted, at the Global Peter Drucker Forum in Vienna in 2018, when he called for a Lutheran Reformation of management, urging the audience not to wait for a great leader but “to start small fires in the darkness, until they spread and the whole world is alight with a better vision of what we could do with our businesses … If not us, then who? If not now, then when?”

Handy was active almost until the last. His final book, suitably titled The View from Ninety: Reflections on Living a Long, Contented Life, is due for publication in 2025.

Liz died in a car accident in 2018. Handy is survived by his son and daughter, Scott and Kate, four grandchildren and by two sisters, Ruth and Margaret.

🔔 Charles Brian Handy, social philosopher and management thinker, born 25 July 1932; died 13 December 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[notwiselybuttoowell]

After several years of recovery after the tumult of Donald Trump’s last administration, the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) is now bracing itself for even deeper cuts to staff numbers and to work protecting Americans from pollution and the climate crisis as Trump prepares to return to the White House.

When he was last president, Trump gutted more than 100 environmental rules and vowed to only leave a “little bit of the EPA” left “because you can’t destroy business”, prompting hundreds of agency staff to leave amid a firestorm of political interference and retaliation against civil servants. An even greater exodus is expected this time, with staff fearing they are frontline targets in what could be the biggest upheaval in the agency’s 50-year history.

“People are anxious and apprehensive, [and] we are preparing for the worst,” said Nicole Cantello, an EPA water specialist and president of AFGE Local 704,

“We’ve had a taste of what will happen and how we were targeted last time,” she said. “By the emails and texts I’m getting, a lot of people will leave. So many things could be thrown at us that it could destroy the EPA as we know it.”

Cantello said the union is already seeking to shield itself by departing its office at the agency’s Washington headquarters, ditching the use of EPA computers and divorcing union dues from the federal payroll system. “We have to try to protect our people by being independent of the agency,” she said. “But folks will have to take stock over whether they can endure the attacks that are going to come their way.”

Such anxiety stems from the experiences of the last Trump administration, which removed a broad sweep of environmental regulations and attempted to cut the agency’s budget by a third.

Some staff in the way of this agenda faced censure, with a recent inspector general report finding that scientists were encouraged to delete evidence of chemicals’ harms, such as cancer and miscarriage. At least three of these scientists, when they objected, were removed from their roles, the report found, with supervisors calling dissenters “stupid” and “piranhas”.

The incoming Trump administration will seek to refashion the EPA workforce by using a mechanism called Schedule F, which allows a president to purge the agency of expert staffers and replace them with political loyalists, and relocating regional offices. Many of the EPA’s aging workforce, meanwhile, may choose to retire, with around a third of the agency’s workforce eligible to do this.

Trump’s allies have promised an assault on those who stay. “When they wake up in the morning, we want them to not want to go to work because they are increasingly viewed as the villains,” Russell Vought, who served as Trump’s director of the Office of Management and Budget, said in a recent speech.

“We want their funding to be shut down so that the EPA can’t do all of the rules against our energy industry because they have no bandwidth financially to do so. We want to put them in trauma.”

The EPA currently has more than 16,000 employees, adding more than 6,000 during Joe Biden’s administration as the agency sought to rebuild. During Biden’s term, the agency stepped up enforcement of pollution rules, banned toxic pesticides, bolstered chemical safety protections, and took aim at the climate crisis by drawing up new regulations to slash planet-heating emissions from cars, trucks and power plants.

Much of this work now faces demolition. Project 2025, the conservative manifesto authored by former Trump officials, calls for the elimination of entire offices within the EPA, such as those that deal with environmental justice and pollution enforcement, as well as speeding up approvals of chemicals and scaling back regulations.

It’s going to be a complete meltdown because the Trump people have learned what to do and they are more radical this time,” said Tim Whitehouse, executive director of the Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility. “They’ve been transparent about [their] desire to fire those who disagree with their agenda. Loyalty will be the No 1 factor in civil service jobs.”

In a memo circulated to staff on Wednesday, Michael Regan, the EPA’s administrator, acknowledged the “fear and uncertainty” over the election’s consequences. “May we approach our work with compassion and grace, and may we use the remaining days of this administration to continue to advance our mission and ensure that communities across this country have clean air to breathe and clean water to drink,” he wrote.

[qualitygroupusa]

https://qualitygroup-usa.com/what-can-you-do-with-old-office-furniture/

What Can You Do with Old Office Furniture? - The Quality Group

While your office is being relocated, checklists are being marked, boxes are being packed, and vital files are being collected. But hold on! What are you going to do with your old office furniture? When faced with this quandary, fortunately, there are various solutions. You could want to get rid of your old furnishings and redecorate your new home. However, there are other viable options for dealing with this scenario. Read on to learn more about what to deal with old office furniture and how to manage new office furniture installation in Jackson, MS. To know more visit https://qualitygroup-usa.com/relocation-project-management/ or call us at (833) 756-0103.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 14/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Six weeks later

“I’ll be home late,” Diana tells him, rushing around as she scrambles to get out the door. “Don’t forget to put the garbage out tonight.”

He nods, sipping from his coffee mug. Frenchie rests her head on his thigh and he gives her a pat, an unspoken promise that they will go for a walk soon. 

“Did you call the cable company?” Diana asks, halting in the doorway of the laundry room. 

“No, but I will,” he says. 

“Okay, thank you,” she continues, collecting shoes, briefcase, purse, travel coffee mug. “Please remember to take your medication. See you tonight.”

She gets as far as the door into the garage, then turns back and hurries over to him, her heels clacking against the tiled floor. She kisses him briefly on the cheek, and then is out the door in a flash, leaving him and Frenchie alone in the house. 

“All right, French Face, let’s go,” he says, and the dog woofs, her tail wagging excitedly. 

The heat of early summer is already warming the pavement, sending the metallic, earthy smell of concrete and dandelions up into his nose. Frenchie trots happily beside him, stopping to inspect bushes and street signs for messages left behind by other dogs. The Children’s House is noisy and chaotic, the older children waiting at the corner for the bus and the younger ones puttering around the driveway as their mother supervises the whole lot from the front porch. She waves and he waves back, then crosses the street so he doesn’t distract the children with his appealing furry friend. 

He’s beginning to sweat by the time they make it back to the house, which exacerbates his already buzzing nerves. From the back of the closet he pulls out his nicest suit, black Armani, and pairs it with a blue dress shirt and black tie. When his wingtips are on his feet and his hair is styled just so, he lets Frenchie outside one last time, then leaves her with a bone that should entertain her for the several hours she’ll be confined to the house. He climbs into his car and navigates out of the neighborhood and then onto the turnpike, his stomach already in knots. 

It’s the lie that bothers him the most, followed closely by the possible outcome if this goes to plan. Sneaking around, lying, obfuscating: these are things he swore he would never do again, promises he made on his knees as his whole life flashed before his eyes. And here he is, letting Diana believe that he will spend the day at work and then helping Fred put together his new entertainment center when he will be nowhere near his office, nor Fred’s house. 

He tried to talk to her about it. Several times, several ways. He made frequent mention of feeling unfulfilled by his work, demonstrated a renewed interest in exploring the unexplained. When his subtlety went unnoticed, he directly told her that he had thought about re-engaging with the FBI and moving back to the DC area. 

“Absolutely not,” she’d said emphatically, setting her fork down and turning more fully toward him in her seat at the kitchen island. “We’re established here, Jeff. I have a career here, we have friends and a mortgage. I’m not interested in starting over again.” 

Just start again.

He attempted to compromise and suggested that he could work out of the Philadelphia field office instead of Quantico or the Hoover if the Bureau would have him back, perhaps even consult as a behavioral specialist. The answer across the board was no. No to relocating, and absolutely no to re-joining the FBI. The level of anger in her response left him feeling hurt and confused, wondering why she was more focused on the quality of his ideas for improving his own happiness than the fact that he’s unhappy in the first place. 

Had she asked, he would have told her that he feels stuck. Stuck in a job that’s no longer fulfilling, stuck in a daily routine that’s become predictable and boring, stuck in a life that he isn’t sure he ever wanted to lead in the first place. Diana herself spends enormous amounts of time at work in Philly, and when she’s home she holes up in the office, on phone call after phone call well into the evening hours. He empathizes with the stressful nature of her job, but he sometimes feels like he doesn’t have a wife at all.

This job posting fell into his lap, literally. Diana brought in the mail and tossed his favorite newspaper unceremoniously in his direction, and he caught it by the folded edge before it fell to the floor. It opened itself to the classifieds, and a particular advertisement caught his eye. 

Seeking Trained and Experienced/Licensed Therapists for Clinical Research

John Hopkins Bayview Medical Center

Department of Psychiatry Administration

It felt like fate. A new city, a new job, one that seeks to find answers to as yet unasked questions. And so he applied, and got a call the very next day. If he’s offered the position, he will have to make a choice: decline and continue slogging through each day of this unfulfilling life, or accept and tell Diana that he’s going, with or without her. At this moment in time, flying down the freeway at seventy miles per hour with Green Day filling his ears, both options are too terrifying to even consider. 

The interchange comes up and he is faced with the first choice that will lead him to a series of others: stay on the turnpike and drive into Philly, or get on 476 and head south. One way to more of the same, the other to the great unknown. 

He exits, taking 476 south, calculating about two hours to Baltimore. 

-

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Spender. I can’t make any promises, but I can tell you that we’re very impressed with your work history and your intended research methodology.”

He stands, accepting the proffered hand and focusing on a firm, confident handshake. 

“Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Bering. If there are any questions that come to mind, anything I may not have answered, please feel free to reach out by phone or email. Based on what you’ve shared about the work you do here, I’m very interested.”

He’s escorted back to the lobby, though he and Mr. Bering continue talking for upwards of fifteen minutes. By the time he walks back through the doors into the late afternoon sun, he feels buoyant and hopeful for the first time that he can remember in years. 

The nature of the research, the opportunity to be a part of a dedicated team and impact the course of treatment for test subjects, his own office, a salary that exceeds his current earnings: it’s all too good to be true. He has the reflexive thought that he can’t wait to tell Diana, but then remembers that she will be anything but happy for him. He’ll have to wait and find out if he gets an offer before he broaches the subject with her—no use overturning the whole apple cart for nothing. 

He returns to his car, too optimistic to be bothered by the parking ticket pinned under one of his windshield wipers, and heads back toward the highway. Just before he gets to the on-ramp, he sees a small coffee shop and decides to stop. This day is already going so well, a cup of decent coffee would only serve to make it even better. 

He waits in line, debating getting a cookie but ultimately deciding not to risk getting crumbs all over his good suit. 

“Hi, welcome in. What can I get for you?” the barista coos with a genuine smile. 

“Just a large black coffee, please. No room.”

“You got it,” she says, throwing him a flirtatious wink that makes him think he should wear this suit more often. 

He pays and makes his way over to the coffee bar to wait. He starts to think about how he might break the news to Diana, but quickly decides to focus on the positive and imagines himself living here, driving into work each day to do something different, maybe even stopping for coffee at this very shop. 

“Latte for Dana,” the barista calls out, sliding a lidded paper cup across the countertop. 

He realizes that the life he’s imagining: his morning routine, his evenings in a one bedroom apartment—ground floor for easy dog walking—don’t include Diana at all. And perhaps that’s because he already knows what her answer will be. 

Just start again. 

He becomes aware of someone standing very near to him, too close to be another patron waiting for their coffee. He looks over to find a very petite woman with red hair and a fair complexion staring at him, an oddly intense expression on her face. She’s quite pretty, but she also looks distraught. 

“Mulder?” she says, her voice husky, and his eyebrows furrow, confused. “Mulder, it’s me,” she says insistently, and it’s clear that she thinks she knows him. 

“Black coffee for Jeff.”

“I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” he says gently, and the way her face falls feels like a punch to the gut. 

“Your name isn’t Mulder?” she asks, her voice growing tight as her eyes well with tears. 

“No, I’m Jeff,” he says, offering his hand reflexively. “Jeff Spender.”

“Oh,” she says, a tiny ghost of a sound, as she places her hand limply in his and allows him to pump it up and down twice. She shakes her head gently, remembering her manners, and then says, “Dana. I’m Dana.”

“I think these are our coffees, Dana,” he says with an attempt at a smile, stepping forward to pick up both cups before handing one to her. 

“Thank you,” she says in a near whisper, wrapping both hands around her cup and staring down at the lid. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, feeling worried for this stranger who is clearly not quite in her right mind. 

She looks up at him, and he’s momentarily taken aback by the icy blue of her eyes. Like ocean water. Like glaciers. Like the sky on a cloudless day. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” she says, much more confidently. 

They both head for the doors of the coffee shop, and he takes two long strides to get ahead of her, holding the door open as she walks through. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, squinting against the sun. 

They stand awkwardly on the sidewalk, and he has an odd feeling of responsibility for her, like he shouldn’t leave her here in the state that she’s in. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, searching her face. “Is there someone you can call?”

She clears her throat and looks at the ground. 

“Yes, my husband. But I’m fine, really. I just have a short drive home,” she insists, though not all that convincingly. 

“Are you local?” he asks, continuing to make conversation for reasons he doesn’t understand. “I might be moving here soon, actually. From Philly.”

“No,” she answers blandly. “Ellicott City.”

“Ah,” he says, bobbing his head. 

Awkwardness descends over them, and though he still feels compelled to see to her safe return home, he accepts that this is where his interaction with her will end. 

“It was nice to meet you, Dana. Take care,” he says, and she looks up at him with some mix of alarm and melancholy. 

“You too…Jeff,” she replies, dazed 

He returns to his car, then sits and watches as she stands on the sidewalk for several minutes looking devastated, then finally climbs into a slate gray BMW. For several more minutes her car sits, unmoving, and eventually she pulls out of the lot and drives away. 

He heads back north, arriving home to an empty house, save for Frenchie. He stashes his suit, changes into running shorts and a T-shirt, and they go on an evening run together, burning off her energy and his excitement. He keeps thinking about the woman at the coffee shop, and how disappointed she seemed that he was not whoever she was looking for. He has the urge to help her somehow, to find this Mulder who must bear some resemblance to him. 

When he gets home, he feeds Frenchie and takes his blood pressure medication, then grabs a pen from the junk drawer and scrawls “Mulder” on a post-it note. Maybe he’ll do some internet sleuthing, just as a project. Maybe he’ll find his doppelganger and tell him that Dana in Ellicott City is trying to find him. 

He eats dinner, showers, and is reading in bed when he hears Diana come in through the front door. There is the thunk of her discarding her heels, the opening and closing of cupboards, the tinkle of ice cubes as she makes herself a drink. He considers pretending to be asleep so he won’t have to lie about his day, and is just closing his book when her voice booms up the stairs. 

“Jeff?!” she says in an alarmingly serious tone that has him scrambling out of bed and down the stairs to see what’s wrong. 

“What is it?” he says, his heart racing and his feet fumbling over the steps. 

He arrives in the kitchen to find her holding the post-it note like it’s a pair of unfamiliar panties, and she looks up at him with a horrified expression. 

“What is this?” she asks, turning it so he can see his own handwriting. 

“I think it’s a name?” he answers, confused by her demeanor. 

“Where did you get it?” she asks sharply. 

He steps forward, taking it from her hand. 

“I was at a coffee shop today and this woman came up to me and called me ‘Mulder.’ She thought I was someone else. I was thinking about maybe looking into it,” he says lightly, downplaying the situation and leaving out the detail about what city he was in when the exchange took place. 

“Looking into what?” she asks, her tone still suspicious and hard. 

“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug, tossing the post-it onto the kitchen counter. “Nothing, I guess. It was just odd. She really seemed sure I was this other person. Forget about it, Diana, it’s not a big deal.”

“What did she look like?” Diana asks, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Who?”

“The woman in the coffee shop.”

He recognizes the true concern here. She’s taking this as a red flag, a bread crumb. The fact that he is hiding something from her only makes the stakes higher. He could tell her about the job interview, or he could let her think that he’s sneaking around again, meeting up with strange women. He decides to go with another lie. 

“Fifties, brown hair, heavy set,” he says convincingly. “She didn’t look familiar to me at all, which is what made it so weird. But honestly, Diana, it’s nothing. You can just throw that out.” He begins to walk away, showing complete disinterest in the post-it and the name written there. “You coming to bed?” he asks, one foot already on the bottom step. 

“In a bit,” she says flatly. “I need to make a phone call.”

He listens as she walks to the office, Frenchie’s claws clicking across the tile as she follows. When the office door closes, Frenchie whines at having been locked out. He hears the murmur of Diana’s voice as she makes a phone call, the pitch of it increasing and then decreasing sharply over and over. 

He makes his way back into bed, turns off the light, and tries to get tired. He thinks about the job, the potential offer, the eventual move. He wonders if Frank and the guys will drive down to visit. He thinks about the woman, Dana, and whether she got home okay. He wonders where he’ll be one year from now. If he’ll be happy. If he’ll be free. 

Just start again. 

Tagging @today-in-fic

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (8)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START/ PREV/

The view from the window in Wada’s office is of tall, glass covered buildings and what must be a railway looping around them. The train that zips along the tracks travels at speeds far surpassing similar technologies available in the Land of Snow. The Land of Snow’s chakra rich atmosphere allowed its trains and other technology to run on a mix of chakra and steam generated electricity. It was a combination prone to overheating and blowing up, meaning it was only really viable in cold climates. Kakashi hadn’t cared enough to follow up on the Land of Snow’s rail system after delivering the initial intel to Konoha’s intelligence division. Large scale infrastructure was only an asset in a country so isolated that there was no major risk of it getting targeted by enemy nations. The speed of the trains in Hosu have him reevaluating that assessment.

“Hatake?”

Konoha used steam to generate its own electricity as far as Kakashi was aware, the specifics of which escaped him. All he knew was that it was resource intensive, its exact location was marked ‘need to know’ and only half the village’s buildings were connected to it. The power generation system used to move Hosu’s trains at such a speed might be worth investigating. It was obviously more efficient than Konoha’s system if it powered the train and all the infrastructure around him.

“Hatake?”

Kakashi shifts his gaze back to Wada’s office and away from the city, propping up his elbow on the arm of his wheelchair so he can lean against it.

“Hatake,” Wada crosses his arms, pushing back on his chair so he rolls out from behind his desk, “Are you listening? If you’re tired, we can have this conversation tomorrow.”

He tilts his head to the slide to meet the doctor’s disapproving stare.  

“You want my personal information for a residency application. We were also about to run through my diagnosis and tests results,” Kakashi idly summarises Wada’s last few minuets of lecturing. “I would like to hear what the quirk specialist has to say about my quirk,” he adds, trying to inject a little enthusiasm into his voice so he is not immediately wheeled back to his room for another week of rest.

“Please call me Kakashi,” he throws in as an afterthought.

“Yes. Yes. Kakashi then.” Wada waves the correction away, “I’m going to need more than a name if you want further aid from the City. After your discharge you’ll be left high and dry at this rate. Don’t think I don’t see you trying to avoid the topic.”

Wada’s irritation has Kakashi nodding along for good measure, prompting the doctor to continue talking with a sigh of mild frustration, “This is all quite complicated. At the moment, you’re being treated under Tokyo’s District Collateral Damage Scheme which would usually extend to relocation, occupation support, and asset recovery. However as the investigation into the attack on your person hasn’t linked it to any credible Villain activity, you’ll need to be a resident of Japan to receive further support.”

Wada frowns at him, “That’s a problem seeing as we see can’t find any of your records.”

“Hmm,”

“You have no birth certificate, citizenship information, school records, place of residence, career history or passport,” Wada lists, “Are you absolutely sure Hatake Kakashi is the name we need to be searching under?”

There is another pause where a reply would usually go. Kakashi finally lets his full attention sit squarely on Wada, taking in his mildly irritated expression and how his eyebrows are drawn together in a slight frown. The man is leaning forward, arms crossed, irritate but keen for a response. Kakashi habitably scans for signs of deception.

“Why.” Kakashi finally asks, voice dropping flat as be briefly lets his suspicions seep into this tone.  The medical attention he could understand. Doctor Wada was being paid by the hospital to give him medical care because of its poor patient vetting. This other help wasn’t medical attention. Kakashi wasn’t Wada’s friend, ally, or family member. He doesn’t have ties to the man outside of being his patient and he knows Wada doesn’t pay this much attention to his other patients.

Wada huffs, throwing up his hands, moving from vaguely annoyed to openly exasperated. If Wada hears the underlining threat in Kakashi’s question, he wilfully ignores it.

“You walk out of hospital like this, and you’ll be jobless on the streets by sunset. Rent. Jobs. Bank accounts. They all need identification. Best we get this sorted while you still have access to the hospital’s resources.”

“And you do this for everyone?” Kakashi asks sceptically, because Wada has obviously misunderstood him.

“Humph.” Wada grunts, “Most of my patients have relatives and friends visiting every few days and aren’t missing all their personal records. Helping people isn’t just for the Heroes you know. Us regular people like to give it a go every now and then as well.”

Kakashi stares as the man gives a resolute nod like his had given a valid answer to Kakashi’s question.  What did being a Hero have to do with anything?

“I see.”  He really didn’t but maybe this was a normal doctor thing to do? This world was so strange.

“Unfortunately, I don’t remember anything else of use,” Kakashi repeats. It was probably the most truthful he has been since waking. Kakashi has no further information for Wada revenant to his lack of records.

“Yes, very unfortunate,” Wada sounds ever so slightly disappointed, “unfortunate for you. I’m not a miracle worker. You’re going to have issues with this lack of records.” He rolls back behind his desk, yanking out a stack of paper held together with thick metal clips. As he shifts objects on the desk around to clear space, Wada continues, “I might be able to get you a job interview with a friend of mine and I might be able to get you into some city subsidized housing. But that’s an iffy might…all I can promise.”

Never mind that Kakashi hasn’t asked for anything since his arrival.

Wada slaps the stack of paper down on the desk flipping it in Kakashi’s direction and sliding across towards him. “You can show your appreciation by paying attention. Your medical records are the only thing we do have at the moment.”

Kakashi examines the booklet, raising a questioning eyebrow. On top of it is one of those plastic communication rectangles. Phones. It is black with a black screen.

“This is my old phone, no sim card but you’ll be able to connect to the Hospital’s internet. I’ll see if I can get you a charger tomorrow and set you up with patient access account.”

Wada moves the phone to one side.

“This is you’re recovery plan. I took the liberty of printing it out for you. Though with your quirk it’ll probably be a waste of paper.” Wada follows the sentence up with a quick, “Once you’re cleared to use it. Which you’re currently not. Don’t even think about it.”

Kakashi raises a hand in a loose calming motion.

“…and on the topic of your quirk….” Wada fusses around, patting himself down muttering, “Where is it. I swear if I lose another pen…Ah.” He pulls out a pen, leaning forward to scribble out a line of numbers and letters.

“You’re Registry ID. Won’t be for active for another week at least. But, once it is, if anyone gives you trouble for using your quirk in public you can tell them to go look up your file. I sent all your information off to be assessed and your quirk is probably going to be registered as ‘passive biological’ which is an automatic Licence Waiver if I’m remembering my law correctly.”

“Don’t quote me on that. I’m a doctor, not a legal professional. And just because you can use it, doesn’t mean you should. High Stress quirks need to be carefully managed.”

Wada reaches over and flips the booklet open, tapping the page.

“Your quirk puts a huge strain on your brain. Specifically, it strains your memory and vision processing centres. The expert opinion is that your body’s fast regenerative factor has naturally evolved to offset this physical stress.” Wada hums, pausing in his explanation to check that Kakashi is following. “Unfortunately, even with this mutation your quirk is maladaptive at best actively destructive at worst.”

Kakashi glances at the page Wada is scribbling on. It has a diagram of a brain with serval areas now circled in blue pen ink.

“See this area here. This shows high activity. And see how it how activity increases when your quirk is active.” Wada flips the page, “And then activity in these outer sections of your brain drops to practically zero? None of this is good in the long term.”

Wada clears his throat, “A lot of your body’s resources are being devoted to vision and memory processing and it has led to enlargement and increased activity in these areas. This sort of imbalance in the brain has been connected to depression, paranoia, anxiety, chronic stress and panic disorders. Something you’ll need to keep an eye on it and I have noted on your registry file when it comes time for your annual quirk check-up. I have also taken the liberty of scheduling some initial psychologist appointments with Hosu General.”

All this sounds somewhat familiar. He thinks in he has ben given similar warnings about sharingun and dojutsu users being more prone to severe paranoia episodes by medic-nin.

Honestly, with the rate Uchiha went loopy, he is not surprised to find out that the sharigun messed with the brain in other ways. He had always just chalked it up to the unpleasantness of having to retain perfect memories of comrades dying gruesomely.

Of course, he had never hung around the hospital long enough to get a proper diagnosis and assessment of his sharingun beyond an understanding that he should keep use to a minimum. The Uchiha had had their own medical centres for sharingan related ailments which he’d been unwelcome in before they had all disappeared along with the clan. Not like knowing meant much in the long run. It wouldn’t stop him from using it. The sharingan was the most powerful weapon at his disposal. Better to overuse it and suffer hypothetical future consequences then underuse it and watch his allies die.

“…and there is no cure for this?” he asks to cover his bases because he wasn’t the only shinobi with a dojutsu that messed with brain activity and maybe this strange world had something useful to bring back.

“Unfortunately, research into ocular quirks is still in its infancy. However, these sort of maladaptive characteristics aren’t uncommon in third generation quirks. An unfortunate result of a quirk mutating quicker than the body can handle or an individual inheriting a quirk from their parents but not developing the accompanying physical mutations necessary for that quirk to function properly. For now, your memory loss has been diagnosed as an Externally Triggered Quirk Incompatibility Event resulting in detriment or damage to the quirk user. ETQI Events are quite common in individuals with high stress quirks.”

The way Wada waits again for Kakashi to respond is more evidence towards his growing suspicion that Wada was beginning to doubt that his memory loss was as extensive as he had been implying.

This time Kakashi doesn’t answer because his attention is pulled away to focus on unusual movement above the city.

A large bat-like creature flashes across the now dark sky, diving in between the buildings. Since arriving in this world Kakashi has seen serval types of loud flying vehicle hovering or passing over the city. Enough to have grown use to the sight and sound of them passing overhead. Nothing this large and organic and this creature was definitely organic.

“Kakashi? Are you…. What in the world?”

In amongst the buildings there is a breif flash of orange light, and a trail of smoke can be seen raising upward. Despite it being mostly obscured by the tall structures, Kakashi knows an explosion when he sees one.

Wada stands abruptly, “Oh my…that’s the city centre,” he pushes around his desk so he can stand next to Kakashi.

There is another flash of light and the creature shoots back into the air above the buildings. Wada startles at the sight. So large flying creatures aren’t a normal occurrence for Hosu. Good to know.

“-Announcement; all staff refer to personal devises. Event level 2.-”  can be heard through Wada’s office door, the announcement coming in from the hallway’s intercom. Wada is immediately distracted searching his pockets.  

“A Level 2? In Hosu?” Wada questions, staring at the screened devise – phone, Kakashi mentally corrects- he frees from his pocket, reading through something. Emergency orders from the hospital.

Kakashi notes the alert as he flips up the soft medical eyepatch and pulls off the bandage-tape covering his sharingun so he can better track the creature’s trajectory across the darkened skyline. The fact that Wada isn’t yelling at Kakashi about his sharingun use tells him that a Level 2 is serious business.

The creature’s flight is sporadic, like it has sustained an injury to one of its wings and trying to escape whatever caused it. The creature is also on a collision course with one of those highspeed trains Kakashi had noted earlier.

“-Announcement; all staff refer to personal devises. Event level 2.-”

Kakashi watches, his sharingun catching the moment the creature rams into a train in perfect detail even at the considerable distance. The side-carriage buckles inward and the train is flung partially off its rails, momentum abruptly slowing.

He can’t hear collision at this distance, but Kakashi thinks the hospital building tremors ever so slightly. Whether the tremor is from the train crash or another explosion closer in the city he can’t tell.

At this point Wada has stopped staring at his phone and is following Kakashi’s line of focus. The man inhales sharply in alarm, rushing forward to press against the window.

“That’s the main line!”

‘-Announcement; all staff refer to personal devises. Event level 2.-’

Cautiously, Kakashi stands from his wheelchair to follow, approaching and eyeing the train and then the city. He can pick out four smoke trails wafting up from among the buildings but nothing is close to the hospital. Yet. In a citywide attack a hospital is a logical target.

The flying creature falls away from the smashed-up side-carriage like it has been blown backward by a powerful shockwave. It flounders in the sky for a second, disoriented, raising higher then dropping into uncoordinated wonky dive. Of course, the dive puts it in line with the hospital, his eye allows him to make the calculations automatically, tracking the trajectory.

It is on a collision course with the section of building Kakashi is currently occupying. If the creature didn’t slow or turn, its impact with the building would probably take out a portion of the upper floors, including Wada’s office.

A little chakra enhancement and Kakashi kicks the glass from the window in front of him. It was best not to retreat into the hospital as he doesn’t know if the building’s structure was sound enough to withstand the collision. It was a safer bet to escape outside where he would have more room to manoeuvre.

The window shatters, glassing spraying out and falling onto the pavement that ran the perimeter of the hospital.

“Holly S…. “Wada begins to exclaim and is interrupted when Kakashi snags the doctor by the arm and throws the man over his shoulder, winding him in his haste. He then turns and in one sweeping motion swipes his recovery plan and phone off Wada’s desk, crouching fit through the window frame, and jumps, dropping straight down.

There is the loud crunch and screech of metal and glass twisting up above him as the creature rams the side of the building. Kakashi lands and darts further along the path and away to avoid falling brick and glass.

Around him the civilians, who had been distracted staring at the explosions and smoke rising from further in the city, turn at the noise created by the impact. Then there is a lot of panicked yelling as people scatter in all directions.

“Back away! Move away from the wall! Please stay back from the road!” Two uniformed policemen come jogging towards the crash site, unsuccessfully attempting to re-direct the streams of fleeing people. It’s a lot of uncoordinated chaos as people spill out onto the roads around the hospital and get in the way of oncoming vehicles which subsequently crash into one another.

It is all very chaotic up until a short grey-haired man in a yellow onesie drops to the pavement few meters from where Kakashi had initially landed, right under the flying creature. Yellow-onesie-man turns to order the policemen to keep civilians back before propelling himself up the building in long leaps worthy of any respectable shinobi, kicking out and knocking the creature off the building, manoeuvring around several uncoordinated retaliatory attacks. A ‘pro-Hero,’ Kakashi decides, tracking yellow-onesie-man’s quick decisive strikes and dodges. He had noted that Heroes tended dress bright and flashy to attach as much attention as possible.  

It obviously works as, around him, the civilians who had previously been fleeing in blind adrenalin fuelled fear seam to calm, focusing on yellow-onesie-man and his efforts to redirect the creature away from the hospital.

Kakashi watches the fight long enough to confirm that it was not headed in his direction. Relatively certain he is not about to be suddenly attacked or rammed into by the panicking crowd he loosens his grip on Wada, bending to let the man down. Kakashi slouches, attention split between his immediate surroundings and tracking the fight as it moved out onto the road.

“Offices,” Wada, who had been uncharacteristically silent, exclaims. He stumbles back and plonks down onto the pavement, landing on his ass, “Those are the third and fourth floor are offices,” The man is staring up at the damaged upper floors of the hospital. “It’s afterhours…there won’t have been anyone working…I should have been the only one in this late,” he mutters.

Kakashi habitually scans the structure. The damage isn’t bad all things considered. There is a lot of broken windows and a significant hole on the fourth floor, but it is shallow, only penetrating a few meters into the building, meaning the flying beast had attempted to pull up at the last second, lessoning the impact. Probably hadn’t managed to smash through any of the supporting walls so they wouldn’t have to worry about the building immediately collapsing. The third floor has broken windows and damage to the outer wall which wasn’t dangerous unless you were standing right next to the glass at impact.

“Hmm, probably no casualties…the rooms on the fourth floor are empty. Aside from us,” Kakashi confirms. He had stalked the doctor enough to know when there were and weren’t people in the rooms surrounding his office. The air also lacked that strong stench of blood that so often accompanied a person being crushed by rubble. Even the stink of this people-filled city wouldn’t have been able to block that out.

Wada blinks up at him. “How did you get us down here so fast?”

“I believe I jumped.”

“… how in the world does a memory quirk let you land a four-story drop on a leg that is still injured?”

Kakashi gives a bland smile, scratching his chin thoughtfully, “You know what, I don’t know. Must be an ETQI Event, you did say it affected memory.” He holds up his recovery plan for emphasis.

Wada’s response to that is silent, open-mouthed disbelief.

“I should have retired last year and followed my sons advise. I’m getting too old for this,” the doctor finally mutters, rubbing his eyes, hand shaking ever so slightly. He lets out a long breath.

“You’re not injured, are you?” Kakashi asks, reminding himself that Wada is a civilian without chakra and thus doubly susceptible to injury.

Wada makes a show of checking himself over, “No. I suppose I’m not. Aside from the heart attack.”

“Isn’t that good news.”

“Oh yes, wonderful news,” Wada huffs, “Always good news when my patient who shouldn’t be walking jumps out a window to save my life.”

Kakashi hums, watching the man struggle to stand. All shaky. Adrenaline would do that if you weren’t used to it.

He bends and grabs a hold of the doctor’s shirt to pull him to his feet, holding him still for a second until he was sure Wada could support his own weight. Aside from looking a little windswept the man is no worse for wear.

Once standing, Wada finally takes proper stock of his surroundings, “Well, isn’t this terrible.”

By now the Hero has drawn the flying creature down the road and far enough away from the building that a number of the hospital staff are rushing out to inspect the damage. Several alarms are sounding in the building at varying levels of shrillness, there is the loud crunch of metal hitting metal as the Hero’s fight knocked into hastily abandoned vehicles, and behind it all people are yelling instructions and questions at each other.

“I’m going assist with any evacuating or patient care where I can. You need to follow the directions of hospital staff and get yourself settled somewhere safe. We can discuss all this later,” the doctor orders as his shakiness dies down.

“Hmm.”

Kakashi flicks open his recovery plan, sharingan stamping the information into his brain. He would devote some time to considering it later. Now that the cat’s out of the bag he doesn’t need to worry about maintaining a façade in front of Wada.  Quickly, he flips through the booklet. The whole process takes barely a minuet.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll be off,” Kakashi says simply, handing his recovery plan back to Wada, “you were right about the waste of paper.”

Kakashi pulls the eye patch back over his eye, turning away from the hospital. “I’ll keep this though,” he holds up the phone.

As he begins to wonder away, Wada splutters, “Wait. Where are you going?”

“Mah,” he waves a hand lazily without turning, “I’m going to find my memories. I’ve lost them on the road of life and I need to retrace my steps.”

In some ways he is glad to have had this opportunity to save Wada’s life. It meant he could walk away without feeling indebted. It was also the push he needed to finally make a decision on what he wanted to do with three years of prospective down time. Explore this world a little. Gather intel without having to worry about hospital staff and other civilians getting in the way. Watch everything from afar for a while before trying to seriously integrate in with the locals. Find somewhere secure to get a proper night’s sleep and to properly start experimenting with his chakra and other potential ways home. Idly, he scans the road full of stopped cars and scattered civilians, picking a direction that would take him adjacent to the Hero’s fight. This would be a good opportunity to observe Heroes and see quirks used in proper combat.

“You’re not even dressed properly?” Wada calls after him.

“My first stop.” Of course, he would need to acquire a set of cloths that weren’t a hospital gown, pyjama pants, and flimsy slippers.

“Hold on a second,” Wada hurries around to stand in front of him, forcing him to stop. Kakashi arcs a brow at the forwardness.

“Whatever trouble you were in before now doesn’t matter. I don’t care enough about the memories you may or may not have or your quirk. I’m too old to worry about all that stuff these days. You’re young enough to deserve options. Think about it. A sensible job and a place to live. Sure, it’s not exciting, and it all gets a bit dreary every now and then but it’s a far cry better than bleeding out in an ally after being stabbed in the chest.”

Kakashi eyes the man not bothering with a smile. He lets his stare stay bland, face expressionless in that way that would have any sensible person dropping the topic of conversation.

Wada keeps talking, “I’ve seen plenty Villains find their place in society and make honest men of themselves. Not exactly easy but it is doable…with help. Help the hospital can give you.”

Ah…this man was like Naruto in a way… he’s concocted some backstory for Kakashi that likened him to this word’s version of missing-nin and is now attempting to reintegrate him whatever passed for a hidden village here. He is still parcelling out the details on how everything fit together in this world but he thinks he has this analogy somewhat correct.

“That wouldn’t quite work for me,” Kakashi loosens, slipping around Wada fast enough that the man stumbles, hopping up onto the roof of a crashed vehicle so he can jump between them and more easily cross the road.

“Bye bye.”

[chamberlainsremovals]

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[bangkoklawyr]

Thai Retirement Visa

Thailand, with its captivating culture, stunning beaches, and affordable living, beckons retirees worldwide. If you dream of spending your golden years in the Land of Smiles, the Thailand Retirement Visa might be your perfect gateway. Let's explore the eligibility requirements, application process, and benefits of this visa option.

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Age: You must be at least 50 years old at the time of application.

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