30th Century Earth

Logan was dead tired. He had just finished unpacking his meager belongings when he was told to go see some high and mighty General dude. He looked around the room: He had moved to the Aequitus Dome just only 2 years ago, after graduating when he was 17 and taking a year to yell at his father. He had been hoping for a peaceful life, possibly settling down or maybe even getting a job as a doctor, but his wild side kept him from either of those things. That was how he got interested in their guard squad. He had heard on the grapevine, cause he has his sources, that they were hurting for some good medics just 6 months ago, and he felt almost compelled to join. However, he refused when they asked if he would join their medical team, saying that he needed to find himself first. The pleading didn't stop. It continued until last week, when he finally caved in and joined on the condition that he set his own rules. They were thrilled.

Last night was the first combat action he had seen in a long time. Being a medic, he was doing his best to find, heal, and fix any problems with the Guards that he could. But he never knew the work, nor the deadliness of the radiation that the beasts could inject into their victims. He had pulled an all nighter healing people, and that didn't put him in a good mood - his mood never was anyway. But the only reason he was asked to be some XO in that stupid league teams was when he was on the field, helping a few people. He was soothing their pain, something most of the doctors had never seen before, with his brain. But the scariest part was when he was attacked by 2 of the beasts. 3 of the medics were killed quite quickly, barely moving since they couldn't defend themselves worth crap. The other 5 had gone off running. Logan, on the other hand, had his melee combat training kicking in. He grabbed a fallen spear to his right, spun around, and impaled the beast as it was lunging at him. Apparently the General thought that party trick was impressive, since he was watching and all.

So here he was, dragged out of his little apartment that he had been sinking most of his money into to fix up and into a white room. Logan thought he had been stuck in a crazy hospital. With only a few hours until some important thing, he changed up the room, putting his very thin armor up on the wall, his spear beside it. Posters covered most of the walls, with a single picture of his family on his shelf. He was happy with his new little room, which he also had demanded that he got one by himself. He got a quick shower, hoping that would wake him up a little, since not sleeping for 36 hours kinda does that to ya. While drying his hair, he grabbed his favourite lighter (lighter links for his list of them will edited into my character.) which he called the 'Spider Lighter' and lit up a cigarette. It got him thinking about his nickname, Spider. He had recieved it not that long ago, and took an instant liking to it. He hated his old name, Corpse. Reminded him of home.

Once he had gotten dressed, back into his usual vest and tie, he stumbled his way to the main room, and pushed open the doors, the cigarette still in his mouth. He was tired, and most could tell. But that didn't mean anybody really wanted to approach him. He had learned whom most these people were by now, having lived in the little dome long enough. But he probably looked like a wreck.

“Kester, Miko, Barry, Lin, Scott, Tabby and Megan” Lock was flipping through the dog tags of his fallen squad. IT had been 3 long years, but he still look over them from time to time. He would say their name. Always in the order of their dog tag number. They were good soldier and great friends. Even the way they died was noble. Lock could ask no more from anyone. To die to save others.

The dog tags made the sound of jiggle bells as he places them softly back into his foot locker. The foot locker was filled with a random assortment of belongings. A violin, a tennis racket, a top hat, a chess board and a picture of Lock and his old squad. They were all he had to remember them by. The locker shut with a thud and then Lock secured it with a padlock.

Lock mobilises his large limbs as he pushes off his bed and walks to a finely crafted desk. He opens a draw to reveal a stack brown paper folders each around a stack of papers. He counts them. One, two, three. No four. Lock was told he would be in charge of four people. With a great displeasing sigh he is force to except that he won’t be able to read up on all the soldiers under his command. However he starts with the three that he has.

“Logan Sargan” Lock thinks to himself. As he mulls over the information in the files of his Executive Officer thoughts on the matter start to form“. Young for such a position. Medic is an odd choice for Executive Officer. Impressive treatment records. Ah, that explains why, quite an ability. Good bed side manner. Yet not exactly a man of the people. Next to zero experience. Worrying” Lock puts the file down and picks up the next file.

“Lenard Conner. Impressive running speed for such a load. What an awkward weapon choice. Not to mention a show off. Again limited experience“. Lock tossed the file with the last one and frowned as he realised a pattern emerging.

“Maen Raboc. Impressive marksmanship, in fact very impressive. Yet again little experience. Been a civilian far to long for my liking“. Lock placed the file down softly as he let the thoughts of these three men he now had to order around.

“It looks as if General Verturum has a wicked sense of humour. Giving me three men with little experience each with there own personal hang-ups. Still, there is much potential here” Lock put the files back the draw and locked the draw. He then walked over to the bed he had yet to sleep in. As he got into bed his last thought before his nap was “diamonds in the ruff”.

Ririn Crimea sighed for what must have been the 80th time that day. He was in his room, airily resting on some of the boxes that had been piled into the center of his room, and looking around at the room with sad eyes. Never in his nearly twenty years of living here had his room ever felt so empty. Everything he had intended to take with him-clothes, personal belongings, supplies-had been packed into a crate and duffle bag, and were sitting beside the door waiting for him. Everything else was packed up in the boxes that he was currently sitting on, just waiting to be moved out into storage, leaving the space completely bare. Every sign that a little boy, and later a quiet teenager, had ever lived there would be gone by the end of the week. Of course, Ririn thought, he was an adult now. It was perfectly normal for a young man to leave his father's house. That thought didn't change the problem though: he was going to miss the place.

Deciding that there was no point in delaying any longer, stood up from his sitting position, sighing sigh #81, and heading for the door. He hoisted the crate up and tucked the duffle bag over his other shoulder, and then closed the door to his room for the last time without a last look back. He navigated the narrow hallway of his father's small house, careful not to bang the crate against the wall. He took the steps one a time (an oddity for him), and stepped into the foyer. Ririn's father was already in the kitchen, which was visible from the foyer, cleaning up from the early dinner he and his son had had. The older man turned around when he heard Ririn come down. Ririn looked at his father, and took in the sight of the man who had raised him.

Alec Crimea looked like an older version of Ririn. He was fairly tall, now just a bit shorter than his son, and slight. His hair had been blonde, but had grayed into a peppery color, and now seemed permanently withered and windswept on his head. His skin didn't have his son's paleness, rather, it was tenderly tanned in a way that spoke of years outdoors. Ririn's father had always had tranquil green eyes, and even now the glistened peacefully behind his lashes. Although something was very different about his eyes today: They were wet with tears.

"Oh Dad..." Ririn dropped the crate and bag and ran up to his father, hugging his father tightly. Alec returned the embrace, sighing a bit in a resigned way. Apparently, sighing was a genetic thing for the Crimean men.

Alec broke the hug, but kept his hands on his son's shoulders. "You be sure to look after yourself, 'right Rin? Don't put yourself in a situation where you can't get out." Ririn nodded, and squeezed the hands on his shoulders. "Know I will." With that, they broke apart, and picked up the things Ririn had dropped. Ririn opened the door, and stepped out onto the porch, feeling the sun on his face. He took his first steps out of the nest, walking out onto the sidewalk that would lead him to the building where he was to go. Ririn turned his head over his shoulder and gave his father a watery smile. "Love you Dad," he called, and then broke out into a run. Alec rushed to the edge of his property, waving to his son and yelling "Come back to me in one piece, you hear me!? I want to hear all about how you brought our home to glory!"

...

The new scout of the Black Wolves stepped into the building that held the first step to his new life. He had only had to stop once to ask for directions, and thankfully, he had simply been able to flash the invitation he'd been given, and the shoulder had pointed him in the right direction. There were a few people in the lobby area, which Ririn quickly avoided as he stepped towards the receptionist. Once again, he simply flashed the invitation he had been given to the person, and she pointed him in the direction of some of the people in the room. His head turned back to the pointer with a mortified expression on his face. There was no way he was going to introduce himself to actual people. Grumbling in exasperation, she pointed instead to one of the empty waiting chairs. Giving her an apologetic look, he moved to sit and rest his weary feet, setting the crate beside him and letting the bag rest ontop of the wooden storage unit.

"Doo da, doo da, dada da dada, dada dada, dada da dada..."

The sound of humming carried up the hallway as a man in red scaled armor came trodding down the hall. He wasn't especially unexpected, since there were already other armored soldiers hanging around. He walked with the stance of someone used to carrying a heavy weight everywhere, his steps too light and firm as he overcompensated for a burden that wasn't there. His odd step carried him over to the receptionist's desk, where he was turned away with the same polite (but growing in annoyance) response that had greeted all of the others.

The man continued with his odd gait into the waiting room, and entered with a grin. "Hey, you all be here for the games as well?" He spoke with an obvious accent, one that wasn't usually found in the domes. Compounded with his bleached hair and pale skin, he looked obviously foreign, although he retained a similar body shape that said he wasn't too foreign. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Can't wait, myself! Honor to the dome, and, uh, stuff." He threw himself into one of the chairs, leaning backwards and stretching out.

But most honor to myself, he thought happily, but his excitement faded slowly as time passed. I've got to stand out from these chumps, got to make myself look better. Maybe I should have brought my gun? He imagined attempting to carry it through the hallways, and what people might react with. Er, maybe not... It had probably been a better idea to leave it with his other things, too.

Logan was sitting in one of the comfy chairs, near a window, smoking away like he always did. As soon as one finally ended, he would light up another with his Spider lighter. He tried to focus on his new job, being some Executive Officer for the team the Red Lancers. His medical bag, which he had carried with him for over 3 years, got a make over with the Red Lancer's icon replacing the original red cross. He never liked that cross anyway, but the Lancers logo looked alright. Nothing too flashy, just a red dude on a red horse. With a lance, of course. And now he kept lighting his lighter, looking around.

A dude that, he guessed, was supposed to be unnerving with a massive black case on his back was waking up some random sleeping chick. These people looked all like massive jokes to him, none of them looking like a normal, simple soldier. But then again, neither was he. Maybe he should start talking or something... Screw it. He was too damn tired to even care if someone got shot. And his job was to care. Just as he thought that the moron squads couldn't become more idiotic, a complete fool of a dude walks in and starts talking like the world just crowned him friggin king. He didn't look like he was from around here, but neither was he, so why the hell was he talking?

But his annoyance spiked when the dude laid down on the couch. Was this guy a soldier, or some random chef?! He began to swear under his breath, annoyed at how cheery this guy was. Soldiers were fighting last night. He obviously wasn't. And that pissed him off. As long as the guy kept his damn mouth shut and wasn't on his team, he would be fine. Logan decided to voice that opinion.

"Hey, buddy. If you haven't noticed, we are all a little tired after last night. So if you could shut up and keep quiet like everybody else, we would all be grateful." Sarcasm dripped from his lips as his double coloured eyes blinked.

Lock had woken up at the sound of the alarm as he had planned. He prefer to look his best when meeting new soldiers. It was quite some time until he was back in his armour. After all he had to polish it, buckle it in just right and make sure that all the joints worked as they should. Lock leaves his weapons in his room as he walking to the meeting hall. It was time to meet the recruits.

As he approached he heard the back and forth of two of his soon to be men. Lenard sounded fake. Lock didn’t need a file to tell that much. Logan, on the other hand, seemed to have his mind set on the job at hand. Perhaps he was in the right role after all.

“How interesting for you Logan. You see, like yourself, Lenard here will soon be under my command. Now I hear you have good bedside manners. It will be interesting to see if you apply them to someone you dislike” Lock looked over his men. He only got to see their faces in the files. Seeing them in person, and their attire didn’t exactly inspire confidence. “I am Commander Lock, Commander of the Red Lancers” Lock salutes quickly and with purpose.

A tall, lithe figured stepped gracefully past the neatly tended lawns and flowerbeds that enhanced the era-less structures of the Headquaters. He wore light brown shirt and trousers, pressed and unwrinkled in an military manner. His gait was also military, strong and sure. He extruded self confidence that was surprising from a grunt of the military service. Although Ameriv Argus Cortez knew he was no grunt, although his rank could say otherwise. He knew himself to be skilled at what he did and a valuable asset to the defense force. He was proud of his ability, not attempting to pass his own boundaries as was right. Yet in the steady steps there was the slight slope of his shoulders and the bags beneath his eyes. Fatigue leeched lightly into his muscles from a short night.

As an active member of the Aequitas Defense Force he was required to assist in defending the dome. He would have gone anyway, it was his duty and where else would his skill come in use. He had focused his life on being a warrior, to cower when he was needed would undo everything. So it was that as the sun set upon the peaceful community that he joined the chaos of prevent the hideous spawn from penetrating the unguarded interior. He had taken to a sniper roof and the the moon bathed the battlefield as the warmth of his rifle bathed the side of his face. Countless times he had seen the pink mist of through the scope, a mutated beast lurching to death as the bullet ripped through its flesh. He had seen fellow soldiers die alongside, not hearing their screams of death from his safety. He offered little sorrow for their passing, they were warriors giving themselves to protect. There was nothing greater or worthy for them. It was late into the night as the assault ended and the soldiers were dismissed to get as good a nights sleep as possible.

He was intended to have been present at the ceremony appointing the new members of the League teams until it was untimely interrupted. The man felt no great thrill at this success, only a determination to deserve the appointment that he had garnered. He slept for a short time and awoke early, certainly not getting a decent amount of sleep. He had attended the practice range in the morning, like clockwork and today was no exception. His aim was unfaltering. Score peaking just below his acceptable mark. He grudgingly settled for that, knowing that he ought to have continued and hit his target score. Yet he had no time and the night condensed his usual timetable.
His lateness was guiltless however as he entered the waiting room shortly behind his commanding officer. Not that he knew he position at the time. He ignored the others and took a seat, not allowing his eyes to shut him in a small peace. It would not do to give this situation anything other then the attention it deserved.

Lock looks silently at Lenard and Logan who had said little ever since he introduced himself. With a sober look Lock shakes his head thinking how in the world he will whip these young men into shape. He was just about to command their attention when a light voice came from behind him.

“Private Lan Haringer reporting sir," a short weedy boy of a man salutes Lock. Lock is almost inspired by this mans enthusiasm. The salute was swift, he was in full armour and the axe on his back gleamed. A man after his own heart to say the least. How he wished this was one of his soldiers to command.

“Red Lancer Commander Lock” Lock gives the same swift and sure salute as before “Private Haringer I was not graced with a forth file. If you would be so kind to tell me the team you have been assigned to?” Locks voice was gruff and solid as always. However his diction was changed due to the fact he acted much gentler towards people not under his command.

“Excellent. Although I respect the abilities of range soldiers, I much prefer melee myself. So I am glad I will have someone following the melee path for me to impart my expertise” Lock stopped looking at Lan and turned around to the sound of soft foot steps. The man he recognised as Mean (from his photo in his file) had come closer to the group.

Lock stepped back a couple of steps as he looked at his team in their entirety. While stroking his beard in a rather ruff way, he gives the slightest of smiles. “So this is The Red Lancers? Remember this day well boys, because this is the day you stop being individual soldiers. Instead you are now part of a vital team. Vital because our success could very well mean the difference between this dome’s survival and utter destruction” his voice had a sober tone to it. As if he really believed that The Red Lancers and The Black Wolves teams could and will make a difference. Their was a sense of pride and duty in every word.

"Since everybody else feels like saying there name, I might as well." He spoke after that Lan character had started talking about training. Logan's voice still sounded scratchy from last night, cause nobody wants to pull all nighters. He did that back at the academy. And wanted to punch the professor in the face after he complained that Logan had fallen asleep. Those were good days. Logan stood up, yawned, then whipped his dull brown hair - with the faded blue tips that he should have probably gotten brighter - off his eyes. He

"I'm Logan Sargan, AKA Spider. Combat Medic. Apparent XO. Trained in Melee Combat, then in Psychokinesis." He shrugged. He guessed he could play nice for a little. But they should really get to know him now instead of later. "Honored to be a part of the team, but I need some sleep if that is all good." Logan swore he would fall asleep after saying that, but he kept standing.

The uptight doctor was the one to speak. Logan, was his name. And once again, her almost scary ability to read people proved her right. He was her second commanding officer. He didn't seem too bad. She believed that she made it out lucky with her two officers. Hopefully, they would be as bearable as they seemed.

"It's nice to meet you, Executive Logan. My name is Lan Haringer. I specialize in offensive melee combat," she said to him, adjusting her breastplate and holding out her dainty hand for him to shake. That was one bad thing about her that she couldn't hide. She definitely had feminine hands.

Lenard rolled his eyes at Logan's sarcastic spiel, but didn't dignify it with a response. He could take crap like that,  and had before. Wasn't no business of his if the guy was a whiny ass. The cannoneer just grinned back and turned away- There were more attractive faces to look at. 

And if he'd inferred from Lock right, this guy was their medic. Lenard prayed that he would never, ever need the guy's help.

As the other members began to introduce himself, he listened with a certain amount of skepticism. They all sounded like they'd been fighting these tournaments forever. 

It wasn't like the surface wasn't dangerous- On the contrary, they were constantly in the same danger that the domes only encountered every so often. But when the Spawn came, they usually hid in the caves and bunkers instead of suicidally trying to push them back. Plenty of people died, either way. 

Lenard had fought before, but he was beginning to realize that these people had been fighting their entire lives. 

They're going to kill me. Kill me and forget me, soon as I stop being useful. Maybe earlier if they learn I'm a Harvester. Same as a Harvest Town. Fight and fight over them, but when the ore runs out... He was certain of this. It took the grin off his face for a second. If Lenard failed here, both were doomed to be forgotten. So he couldn't tell about his home- only the recruiters knew that, right?   

He looked up at the introductions, noting his team members. He gave easier names for his head- Whiny, Gruff, Midget, Stoner. So Whiny was the medic and XO. Gruff was the captain. Midget was a... Melée fighter? Someone, somewhere, must have thought that was funny. Unless he was a mutant. You never knew. Stoner had yet to introduce himself.

Lenard decided to try again, somewhat more subdued by his sudden spike of fear. "Lenard Conner, of..." He bit himself off. Idiot! Domers didn't mention their hometowns when they introduced themselves! That was a Harvester thing! "Mid-range gunner, and grunt. Nice to work with yer." Despite his desire for fame, he found himself hoping that here, at least, he would avoid notice.

Lan looked to her right as the lazy one presented himself. The way he held himself seemed cocky, arrogant, and fake.

He's hiding something. She thought to herself. She knew all about people hiding things, since she herself hid the biggest secret of them all. What he was hiding though, that was the mystery.

"It's nice too meet you as well...Lenard, it was?" she asked. She contemplated whether she should offer a handshake or not. She only really needed to make an impression on the higher-ups, not fellow grunts with an ego. Maybe she was just being judgmental though. He could really be a nice guy, strong and brave and ready to die protecting his city. But with all the experience she had of sitting quietly and studying people in the background told her otherwise.

Still he was her new teammate, and she really didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with anyone. So she stuck out her slender hand and gave a slight smile.

Lock paused for a few seconds trying to answer when the training would begin. The truth was Commander Lock was also in the dark about when training would start. After all this wasn’t no normal team of soldiers. The League of Origins was meant to be none deadly skirmishes. As such these inexperienced soldiers had the luxury to learn from their mistakes in the field of combat.

Lock’s hesitation was met with Logan introducing himself to the rest of The Red Lancers. Lock didn’t know if Logan did this to undermine Locks authority, to buy him sometime to give a proper answer or simply because he was tired after the bloody night before. Either way Lock was glad that Logan had since Logan reminded Lock that Logan was indeed trained in basic melee. Lock made note not to view his second in command as a mere medic.

“As do we all after last night. But the sooner we are done with this briefing the sooner we can get some much needed rest. Just hang on a bit longer”. Not wanting to be rude to Lan, Lock turns to him and continues to answer his question. “As for training. The exact time has yet to be decided. However when the team is not in combat or ordered to rest, it is at my digression on when and how often to train. Either way I very much doubt we will see combat before a proper rest due to last night. And I would much prefer everyone to be rested before I train the team as well. As such expect a day to rest up. Use it wisely mind you. For my training sessions shall not be lax” Lock gave a deep but brief chuckle. After which his face turn quite serious.

Logan swore he was going to face palm himself. He had dealt with far worse back at the academy, but these guys were a bunch of jokes. The one called Lan looked so damn small to be a dude, but then again he was skinnier than most women. So he should probably shut up. But it was that Leanard character. This guy was a complete moron. Logan could read most people, cause being Psychokinesis had to have some benefits. Leanard came off as a glory hunter. The way he didn't even bother to signify that he had even heard him was one reason. The other was the fact that he was clearly not from around here. How that made him into a glory hunter was the fact that Logan could see in Leanard's eyes that he wanted to be recognized. Why he wanted that, Logan would never know. Logan would rather sit in the corner and sleep. So, Logan labeled him as the glory seeker. And that made him easy to understand.

Logan smiled, finding a way to play right into his own hand "Nice to meet you, Leanard of." Logan knew teasing the grunts would come back to bite him in the ass, but for now he wanted to have some fun. Besides, all he had to do was hurt him slightly anywhere. And the nightmares of Leanards mind would begin. Happy with that thought, Logan flicked away the cigarette.

Maen had pretty much picked up how everyone ticked by this point. The CO was one of those gruff but lovable fellows he had seen a few times in the past, strict and to-the-point, but had a side he wasn't all too open about. The XO was perhaps Maen's least favorite so far, being a bit too lone-wolf for his tastes. The one that apparently was pissing everyone else off was the one he hoped to make quick friends of as he seemed upbeat, like himself. As for the smaller guy, Lan, Maen felt rather odd around him, as if the usual natural connection that all guys felt didn't apply to him. It was probably just due to him being smaller.

After everyone had introduced themselves and the CO had given his little speech, Maen felt it was his turn. "Maen Raboc ready for action, sir. Long-range stuff is my.... stuff." And so it was that his first sentence already let slip his tendency to not think his sentences through.

As Lock looks on his friend of 16 years General Verturum he is relieve that the briefing is finally about to start. This briefing was meant to start 10 minutes ago but the General much preferred to make people wait for him. A fact that at first annoyed Lock when they met each other all them years ago. However back then Lock called General Verturm, Johnny Boy. A nickname he would not dare use in front of these new soldiers. Lock and most of the other soldiers saluted the General before following him into the briefing room. Lock sat in the very mile of the seating arrangement and looked at the scare riddled face of the General. Many of them scars on the General had a brother scar on Lock. A mark of their brotherhood through battle. Upon hearing that the teams would already be entering combat Lock glanced at General Verturum as he gripped his seat. It was as if Lock was about to explode out of his seat and the only thing stopping him was his hands securely grasping that seat. Finally General Verturum said the words Lock was waiting for. “Any questions?” the action of Lock leaping to his feet was closely followed by a dense rattle of armour.

“With all due respect General, these teams have just been formed. Now I’m not saying that everyone needs training. However I would very much like to see my soldiers abilities before leading them into combat. Not to mention that no team acts as one without training together. Now I am well aware that stopping this announced skirmish with Triticum is a poor choice. But at the very least please tell me that you intend for time after this match for some much needed training?” Lock and the General seem to be having some sort of battle of wills by the way they were glaring at each other. The truth was they often butt heads on matters like this. However in the past they would just laugh about how they are both stubborn mules. This could very of well been one of those time if it wasn’t for the audience and the importance of the matter.

"I understand your concern, but I'm afraid there is no possibility for training before the match. Aequitas is in need of the harvest town, however, and the people of Aequitas has decided upon a confrontation as fast as possible. I know your concern is coming from your previous service history in squads, but what better training exists than the field of battle? Both teams sport trained soldiers, all ready to defend our city against the spawn. I am sure they, with two excellent CO's, will be ready to fight the enemy. Proper training programs, as you request, will be commenced as soon as we have secured the harvest town of Avena." As always the General replies with tact and dignity. Lock loosens his stance as he is happy that the General agrees to the training programs Lock believed are vital to further success. “And on the note of COs, it would be proper for the Commanders to identify yourself at this point” General Vecturum glances to Eve and then back at Lock.

“Commander of The Black Wolves Eve Heart reporting for duty” Eve was quick to raise and held her salute as so rest of her team could clearly identify her. Lock was pleasantly surprised that the young female was the Commander of the other team.

“Commander of The Red Lancers Alexander Patrick Lock reporting for duty” Lock followed suit holding his salute. After a few more seconds had past the two commanders both briefly gestured their hands forward as they ended their salutes.

"Remember, we are all relying on you and your teams to score us this needed victory” for the first time in this briefing General Vecturum spoke with a hint of compassion. “This day onwards these two Commanders are in direct command of you. Good day” without another word General Vecturum left the briefing room. Lock was going to meet for him after the briefing for a drink of whisky. However it was clear that they both needed their rest.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m off to bed. Red Lancers you are dismissed. Get some much needed rest” Lock leaves the briefing room and heads back to his private quarters.

"Thank the Lord..."
Logan had sighed thankfully towards his new acting commander. He felt that a commander was like a teacher at the academy: They were all strict and stuff, but at least they cared for your well being. Logan turned on his heals, and headed towards the door. His medical bag hung beside him, and he put his lighter back in, along with the rest of the stash of his lighters. He was damn tired, and needed a break for once. Before leaving, he said.
"If I don't wake up in time, just yell. I may not be the nicest in the morning, but at least I will be awake. You can justify why later." He walked out the door, and slowly made his way to his room. He laid on the bed and thought about last night for a bit. It was the first time he had lost somebody in battle before, and even though his brain told him that he couldn't have done anything it still didn't feel right to him. He was a Medical genius, as the teachers said, and he cuoldn't even save 10 people. He felt a bit like a waste of space, but then fell into his deep slumber, hoping not to feel as so.
It didn't help.

Lock was drained of energy, yet he still kept a fast pace walk despite his heavy armour. The racket his armour made meant he couldn’t hear Eve’s footsteps and as such he wasn’t aware of Eve until she started to talk. As he listened to Eve he did not slow down at all. Luckily she seem willing and able to keep at the same pace. After hearing the start of his first name from Eve he came to a complete halt. Slowly he turns to Eve.

“I demand the utmost respect from all my soldiers, as such I refuse to addressed by my first name. However, as a fellow Commander you can call me Alexander if you wish” Lock smiles at Eve. As he had thought someone so young and female would have to be one hell of a tactician to reach the level of Commander. “I see that your eager to find a solution to this pressing problem we have. I agree its important to know each others team. My team is raw hide ready to be made into leather. They all have developed skills , but there is a lot of friction in my team due to personality differences and completely different training methods. Judge purely by skill we are mainly close range with one long distance sniper. But I can tell you from my experience that the other dome’s team are much better trained” Lock’s face was filled with worry. He was unsure of weather his soldiers would be able to follow his command or weather he even knew them well enough to command them correctly. “Eve, may I call you Eve? The truth is our chances of winning this next encounter is less than 50% and it will all come down to working together. Something the other side has already had practice at, when we have had none. I predict that the only reason why we are going forward with it is due to pressure the good General is under from the rest of this dome. The reason why I say this to you is that although we should hope to win, its perhaps a good idea to prepare to lose. Just be prepared to deal with the low moral that follows a defeat. Now, any concerns about your team? I hope they were kind and gave you an easier to organized team” Lock looked to his door that was only a few feet away from him. It was very important to get along well with Eve due to her role in all this, but the siren song of Lock’s bed was loud.

Suddenly a large soldier that Lock recognized from the briefing approached Eve. His attitude seemed very out of place here and Lock was wondering if the General had gone mad bringing someone like this here to fight for us. As he thought about it, Lock couldn’t help but give a slight chuckle “you don’t seem to understand. You’re a soldier now, part of the most important type of army that exists in this era and this is the person in charge of you. Weather its commanding you off a cliff or to dress up as a woodland critter you have to obey” Lock came closer to the man. So closer that he could whisper his last line “If you don’t obey, I assure you, your life as a combater will be over for good” giving one last stare Lock marches to his room, keeping an ear open for any trouble.

Lenard shook Lan's hand and returned the smile. "Yup, Lenard. Be interesting to see how you fight, kid. Lan." He glanced over at Logan, somewhat more warily. "Nice to meet you too, doc." He's just trying to mess with you, don't let it get to- Wait, aren't I letting it get to me by trying not to let it arrrgh. He turned to listen to the last Lancer- He couldn't be sure yet if Stoner was an accurate mental nickname, but time would tell. He did seem a little out of it.

Then the General came into the waiting room and began to brief them. Lenard tried to look like he was feeling the appropriate amount of gravitas, but he knew all this already- as did everyone else, he suspected. In his case, he'd specifically chosen the lowest Dome- you got more famous for clawing up from the bottom than from falling from the top. Not to mention that it had been nearby.

I guess it would be too easy for them to be after Leagel first try... Besides, a mining town would be important only once you've got food. He tried in vain to recall what dome owned his home- But he couldn't remember. It changed so often that no one had. So we're supposed to go off and get ourselves killed so this place can get bigger... Oh, right, we're volunteers. Damn. He felt slightly irked about being personally treated like an expendable commodity. He'd lived his whole life that way, but now it was more personal. Nothing like imminent pain to put things into perspective.

Dismissed, he followed the others through the halls, hoping his stuff had already been delivered to whatever room he'd been assigned. He had no idea where it was, though. Or was he supposed to go find it? Damn these confusing domes...

Ririn sat in his chair, legs picked up and knees tucked to his chest, being very still. His face was half-hidden behind his knees, leaving his widened eyes to peer out across the room. He looked like someone had hit him over the head, or as if he'd just woken up in a strange place. Shell-shocked. That described how he was, huddled against himself protectively. His senses were assaulting him-his ears being the worst, as they could pick up every word the people said-causing him to cringe. All this came from one cause, though: the people. There were so many of them in the room, and Ririn had lost count after the first five or so. It had been forever since he had been in such proximity with a crowd, even such a small one as this. Sure, at the academy there had been people. Many people, far more than there were in the room, but at least then he had had the comfort of space. In here, it felt as if everyone was crowding in on him.

As with the number, Ririn had lost the ability to distinguish individual people. It was a single mass of several faces, thankfully none turned on him. The chatter was deafening, and Ririn had just been about spring out of his chair and bolt from the room, when someone else entered the room. All eyes focused on him at once, even Ririn's own. It was an older man, worn but seasoned with years of battle, and years of living. Instead of panicking about yet another body being added to the mass, Ririn felt himself relax, a quiet whimper escaping his lips as his shoulders slumped. The old man had an aura about him, and it was pointedly soothing to Ririn. Only a few people had that feeling to them, of gentleness mixed with wisdom-his own father being one of them-, and Ririn had admired every one of them he had met.

Despite the fact that he was still amongst the others, calm had settled over him, and Ririn found himself hanging onto every word the General said. He was actually able to listen to a speech and understand it, something that nearly none of his teachers at the academy had been able to accomplish with him. When it was done, and people started to file out slowly and talking animatedly again, his discomfort didn't return. However, that didn't abate his shyness, or the creeping embarrassment that he felt of himself. Honestly, he was a man now, and a soldier to boot, and he was still sitting in the corner of the room afraid to talk to anybody. If only Noah, the only friend Ririn had made at the academy, had joined the league team along with him, then at least he'd have someone to be with. No such luck though, he was alone, and he was going to have to toughen up...

He stood roughly, his cramped feet suddenly meeting the floor and trying to support his unbalanced weight. He fumbled for a moment, but then righted himself. He walked forward purposefully, heading towards a woman with red eyes that he had gathered was on his team. Her eyes were what had drawn his own, before his xenophobia had set in, as most oddities did. Anything that seemed odd or out of place seemed to draw Ririn, but he guessed it was just like calling to like. He had meant to ask her about what he was supposed to do now, where he was supposed to go, but the closer and closer he got, the less confident he got. By the time he was close enough to reach out and touch her elbow, his mind was warning him not to bother her with his pathetic problems. Hastening his step, which had lost its strength, he moved past her and out the door. He kept walking, off the main path toward a secluded space around the corner, his things momentarily left behind.

Ririn knelt down once he was sufficiently hidden from anyone that might have tried to follow him, letting his breathing still has he berated himself for being such a coward. What am I going to do with myself, he thought dejectedly. He rocked back on the balls of his feet, letting himself fall back to sit on the grass. He looked up at the sky, which was settling in the darker part of the night, and stared at the moon and stars that were visible beyond the domes perimeter. He smiled a weak smile; he always liked the moonlight. The sun was too harsh, even on the mildest days. It burned him out, and made him feel too thin and invisible. He used to stay up some nights and hold his hand up to the moon, though. The night lights were much gentler on his skin, and sometimes when he tapped his imagination, he could feel that the soft light of the stars made his skin glow.

"I'll wait for them to leave. Then I'll go back in and get my stuff, and see if I can find a somewhere to nap a bit." He spoke to himself, in as reassuring a tone as he could manage. It helped him, sometimes, to tell himself what he was going to do next. It was calming. "I don't need to bother anyone about a room. I just need to find a tree or something. No big deal, Rin. You're a mess, mate. Honestly."

Maen waited until everyone else had left the room before heading out himself. Most of them appeared to be heading off to their rooms, but the younger one apparently had other plans. He had already grabbed his axe and helmet and was heading outside, no doubt to get in a bit of training. Having gotten a good nights sleep, unlike most of the others, Maen wasn't feeling remotely tired. Instead, he decided he'd check out how the smaller one on the team handled himself.

It took him a little while to get to the training field, as he almost always walked at a leisurely pace. Upon arrival, he found his new teammate swinging the axe in a manner that showed he knew what he was doing, Lan is what they called him. Careful not to get in too close, Maen walked up to him. "You're pretty good with that thing. I'm glad I'm not your enemy!"

Lan was completely immersed in her training: feeling the fluid movements of the axe in sync with the rhythm of her arm. So she jumped when she heard a voice behind her. She swung around, almost burying the large weapon into her new teammate...Mayan, or metalhead, or something like that. She honestly couldn't remember.

"Just remember to not scare me like that again, and you won't be. And thanks," she said, accepting his compliment with a slight smile while subtly warning him not to get on her bad side. She didn't particularly like being interrupted during training, especially not when surprised. "I'm sorry, I don't think I've formally introduced myself. My name is Lan Haringer--offensive melee and grunt are my roles." She put her axe on her back and extended her hand to him. She planned to act friendly for a while, just enough to get on everyone's good side. But really all she wanted was to shrug everyone off and be left alone to think of her miserable past and all she could do to prevent the horrible memories from replaying in her head. The last thing she wanted was to be depressed.

Maen gave the boys hand a quick shake. "Maen Raboc. Offensive melee and grunt are my ro- I mean, long-range combat is how I role. I perform sniping duties."
Letting go of the Lans rather tender hands, he folded his arms across his chest. After getting a better look at him, the lad did have some strikingly feminine features, but then, that wasn't entirely unheard of. Summing it all up, their team had a CO that reminded him of some kind of Spartan from the storybooks, an irritable XO, a guy that had more ego flowing through his body than blood, himself and this kid. Seemed fine and dandy, he preferred a more chaotic team, usually meant less responsibility. Lan, on the other hand, seemed more the type to dwell over such things, as evidenced by his wanting to train up. "So, what do you think of the team?" he asked.

Maen, his name was. She giggled at his messed up sentence, but quickly covered it up with a cough. Men don't giggle, she reminded herself, giving her mind a mental slap. How could she be so careless? Oh well, this guy didn't seem too bright. But then again, the smartest ones were the ones who stayed quiet in the background. When he asked her the question about their team, she paused for a moment, turning them over in her mind.

"To be honest, I think we need a lot of work. That cocky Lenard fellow seems like he knows about fighting, but I also think that he's fake. I'm not sure about him. The XO has his nose a little to high in the air, and a stick a little too far up his ass. The commander is hard, but if I know his type as well as I think I do, he's got a soft spot somewhere inside that giant of a body of his. And you, you're pretty mysterious, with that helmet of yours over your head. I still don't know how to feel about you. But you seem pretty cool. As for me, I prefer to work individually. And I can go ahead and say that there is a lot you will probably never know about me, but none of it is important," she explained. She winked at him then continued, "Overall, we're a melting pot of completely random characters performing in this war-torn play. And Commander Lock has it in for him if he thinks he can whip us into shape soon."

She knew she was being brutally honest, but she didn't care. Maen seemed like a pretty trustworthy guy, regardless of the fact that she didn't even know what he looked like, so she went ahead and spoke her mind. She didn't notice Logan coming onto the practice field.

Logan had heard what Lan had said about him, and was laughing really hard to himself. He nearly laughed out loud, but all that made it out of him was a little grunt of laughter. At least the dude had an opinion. A couple guys from his academy hated his guts for no reason, other than the fact that he whopped their ass everytime he fought, or took an exam. But what Lan said about the entire team was quite true: They were a bunch of random people who had nothing in common stuck together in a team. But maybe that was the point? Lock had said that their mission was to not only bring about the glory of this little dome, but to grow and build as a team. So, maybe the General has a cruel sense of humor, and wanted them all to rip each other apart. Logan didn't mind, he was the Medic after all: They may all hate him, but eventually they would all need him, it was just a matter of time. And what made him so deadly was the fact that he knew it.

Logan looked at all the butchered dummies and smiled to himself, glad he hadn't lost his touch while in Psycho school. That place was so boring when it wasn't productive. When Logan wasn't learning anything, he had been taught to sit there and do nothing, something to do with channeling mind energy. He didn't do that. He instead practised the technique he was famous for: The one that was called the Spider's Web. He called it that after the one guy gave him the nickname Spider.

Logan sighed. Now the dude was trying to make up for insulting him? He sounded... like girl. It was kinda annoying, but he still laughed anyway.
"Dude, you didn't have to apologize. I was actually glad that somebody that the nerve to insult me. It's something I haven't seen in a while. Then you went and ruined it dude. Whatever" He twirled his spear around and grabbed his bag. "To answer your excuses for trying to hide your embarrassment..." He laughed. "I don't really care about our team. Lock will do what he needs to, I will too. Thats all i need. And i don't friggin know whose with who for rooms. All I know is that I am alone in mine."

Ameriv was a master of ignoring and being ignored. It was the greatest way to avoid distractions and so focus on what was important. So it was that he did not involve himself with the others. He did not serve the general the same response. A man like the general was what Ameriv once aspired to be, a great warrior serving his dome. He was deserving of respect, perhaps the others were as well. They were present for the same reason as Ameriv and that would mean they are the warriors who serve Aequitas. They had yet to prove themselves. It was a mismatched bunch, not that Ameriv judged by appearances. He hardly judged at all, there was no need. He didn't need to know what they were like, he wasn't planning to spend time with them outside what was required. He had his own tasks that deserved his attention, else he would not maintain the level of skill he needed.

The briefing was as the young man expected, merely Verturum attempting to inspire his warriors. It had no effect on the monotonous sniper. All that was relevant was the intended tactics the general put forward. Ameriv didn't care what their target was as long as he could use the target dome's terrain to his advantage. He needed roosts, places where he had command of a battlefield through as scope. When questions were request he kept to himself, he would learn on the task. There was no need to interrupt others or waste his own time. With the dismissal he was quick to leave. He had not yet excavated himself from his previous home, yet he had few belongings and shifting them was hardly a chore.

With the moving complete Ameriv settled to sleep and recover from the previous night. He could not maintain the required level if fatigue dominated his mind.

"Dude, you didn't have to apologize. I was actually glad that somebody that the nerve to insult me. It's something I haven't seen in a while. Then you went and ruined it dude. Whatever" Logan said. This made Lan blush again, this time out of aggravation instead of embarrassment. You try to be nice and this is what you get? Geez, the army is a bitch. Especially this guy. she thought.

"To answer your excuses for trying to hide your embarrassment...I don't really care about our team. Lock will do what he needs to, I will too. Thats all i need. And i don't friggin know whose with who for rooms. All I know is that I am alone in mine." This guy really did think he was cool as ice. His whole attitude towards everything was annoying and to be frank, she didn't like him at all.

"Thank you for your help," she said sarcastically and, smiling, turned away and walked off the practice field. She decided to get him out of her head as soon as possible; she didn't like to dwell on things she didn't like. So to distract herself, she stopped by the mess hall to grab a snack and walked around for a bit, trying to clear her mind and think of the big battle coming up. How would they do? Would they be successful? Will they gain the harvest town? She knew that Aequitas wasn't the wealthiest place in the world. She was "lucky" to have been adopted by one of the most notable families in the city. But she wouldn't go back there. She would chose this life over that one any day.

She eventually found herself heading towards her newly assigned room. She assumed that her things would be taken up, so she would just have to go unpack. She was also told she would be sharing a room with someone, but she didn't know who yet. She wondered if they would have given her her own room if they knew she was a girl. Oh well, she was fine with this situation. It would just be harder to keep her gender a secret, but she would manage. She had come this far.

Aaron rejoiced when he heard exactly what he thought he would hear. Then he was believed to be mad? He always thought that people with small minds would judge him that way. But what is insanity? Strange behavior to the eyes of society, perhaps? But then, if society dictates what is madness ... In a world where everyone is insane ... How to prove that you are the only sane one?

Aaron shook his head when hearing about the masks. He ostensibly began to polish the macabre fireproof armor helmet. Its color was dark brown, almost black, made of the same material as the rest of the armor, able to withstand high temperatures without heating up. The helmet was composed of two parts: there was the helmet itself, protecting the entire head and the face and docked with the chest armor, and there was the mask. The mask was placed over the helmet, and it was far more sophisticated than it seemed. It had an antenna, which collected all the information that reached the screen that was projected in front of Blake's face. This screen gave Blake an advantage, for it projected a peripheral and telescopic vision of what laid ahead, besides projecting Aaron’s vital signs. The three bright red crystals embedded in the face of the mask were purely decorative, but when Betty was spitting fury the crystals sparkled, and when Blake wore the mask it seemed that he was not human but a monster, coming from hell to seek souls and bring them back to the deep pits where he came from.

While he polished the crystals Aaron thought about what Eve had said. She was right. Even Blake had masks.

Then his commander leaned over and whispered to Aaron. At this point Aaron couldn’t help opening a smile on his face. The idea was tempting ... Way too tempting to pass up. He turned to Eve, who was also smiling in a macabre way, and that made Blake laugh. The young soldiers at the end of the cafeteria looked back quietly, and even the waitress who served Blake came back to see what was happening. It was a guttural, cruel and sadistic laugh, and made Aaron feel really alive.

The huge soldier then carefully placed the sophisticated helmet down and stood up, causing the chair to squeak reliefed. He was still laughing, and with a smile on the face Blake muttered to Eve:

"Now we understand each other."

Then Blake made an effort to get serious, and his effort was pathetic, which caused a grimace on his face. He saluted, and as he had done this very few times in his life, the gesture came out with a comic and ironic tone. Then he said aloud for all to hear:

"Soldier Aaron Blake reporting for duty, ma’am! Where can I be of use? "And by adding that last question Aaron's eyes sparkled.

Logan knew it. From the moment Lan was introduced, something odd was going on in that giant suit of armor. Nobody wore that thick of armor and kept the damn helmet on, and expected to pass for being some ordinary dude. That was just stupid, and Logan was feeling quite smart now that he had put the pieces together. It didn't take him too long to figure out about Lan, as he was kinda obvious. Guys that were aggravated clenched their fists, snarled, showed something that made them look tougher. Lan, on the other hand, sounded like he was gunna stutter something out, and Logan guessed that he was blushing under that big ass helmet he wore. So Logan narrowed it down to 3 options:
1. Lan was a dude, but gay.
2. Lan was a dude, but had some serious issues with how to be a guy. Maybe even a tranny, or mutation.
3. Lan was a girl.

Every option would be exploited, every option would be tested. Cause that is how Logan worked: Finding the answer by manipulation, exploitation, or just ripping off that stupid helmet. All three of his options were quite liable, each one of them having their own reasons for being that way. Logan smiled, as if Lan had signaled a little challenge between both of them that there was a miniature competition between the two. And Logan hated losing.

Challenge: Accepted.

Lan arrived at her room, her stomach full and mind clear. She still didn't know who her roommate was, so she decided to relax a while and wait for him. She went to the mirror, took off all her armor, and set her weapons in a corner. Luckily, her bag had been sent up, so she grabbed some a loose sweatshirt and some pants and went to take a shower. She felt disgusting from training, and she wasn't able to take a shower the night before after the battle. Luckily though she wasn't as tired as she thought she'd be.

When she returned to her room, refreshed and clean, she lay down on her bed and thought some more about the events to come, waiting to see who she would be rooming with for the next chapter of her life, and worrying about keeping up her little act. She was ready.

Logan returned back to his 'room' where somebody was standing infront of it, as if they were waiting. As soon as the dude saw him, he walked up and blocked his path. Logan tried to evade him, but the soldier was persistant. He sighed, Now what... he muttered in his mind, then said "Okay, soldier, you got me. What is it?"

"You have been transfered to a different room." Logan felt his hopes falling. He would have to repack all of his meager posessions? Then move to an entirely different room? This sucked, but it wouldn't be too bad. "I'm also under order to tell you that you will be bunking with somebody -" Logan looked at him, incredulous.

"What?!" He sputtered out, couldn't believing his ears. He had specifically told, more like demanded... but told the General that he wanted a room seperate from everybody. He wanted a room to himself, because he didn't want to deal with the crap of others, nor did he want them finding out a bazillion things about himself. "Oh... the General thinks this is funny, isn't it?" He laughed angerly, "Just give me what I want, then throw me back to the wolves, huh?!" He punched the wall beside the soldier, causing him to flinch considerably.

"You tell the general this, dumbass." He paused, letting it sink in. "You tell him that I'll only budge so far until I snap, got it." The soldier began to make some incoherent words about he would be bunking with a teammate regardless of his decision, so Logan backed off, still seething. This could not get any worse. "I shall be out of my room in half an hour." And he stormed into his old room, which was a weird thing to call it since he just got it that day. And he wasn't as awake as he wanted to be. Within that half an hour, he pulled down the three posters he had, put everything back in the packs he brought, stuffed his medical bag full of crap again - including the one 20 pound dumbbell his mom told him to bring - and grumbled as he approached his new room. He would probably be rooming with one of his teammates, and he wasn't thrilled with that. He found the room and knocked, the new cigarette in his mouth the only good thing he had since training. Knowing that it was probably a dude, he opened the door, saying " If you expect that I'm going to be fine with this, I'm - " He paused, dumb struck. Sitting on the bed..
Was Lan.

The cigarette fell out of his mouth, and fell to the floor. It could have done some damage, but he stomped on it while saying "You have got to be kidding me."

Lan was starting to doze off, her heavy eyelids falling over her gray eyes. She had even begun to have some weird dream about talking fruit helping them fight in a war against vegetables, or whatever the hell they were doing. She really wasn't sure what was going on. All of a sudden, she was awoken suddenly by the door creeping open and a voice saying rather angrily, "If you expect that I'm going to be fine with this, I'm - ". It took a second, no more, to recognize the voice--Logan's, her XO, medic, and headache. She shot up and looked at him.


"You have got to be kidding me." he said, smashing a cigarette into the ground. Great, now her room would smell like smoke all the time. "It's nice to see you too, Executive Logan," she greeted him sarcastically. Was he really her roommate? Him, of all the people in the entire barracks? How did she get so lucky...

"Are you, uhmm, my new roommate?" She was not happy about this at all. It would have been fine, but Lan wasn't exactly fond. And he didn't seem too happy about her. Now she had to live with the one person she didn't get along with. This should be fun, she thought.

"Apparently so." he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "You look as happy as I am about this arrangement, so if we can keep some form of peace this should go better than bad, hopefully. He smirked suddenly, remembering his side mission that he hoped to accomplish. At least it would become easier, but then again Lan didn't seem to happy to see him. Logan looked around the room, and realized it would become a nightmare. Things would get thrown together by accident, both would feel squished, arguments would form. But he hoped not, arguing in the mornings didn't make Logan a happy camper: Any more so than he normally was.

He dropped his things on his side of the room, and propped his spear up in the corner, along with his armor. He emptied his medical bag, including three of his lighters the singed picture of his parents and himself, and that dumbbell. Normally he would change into something else, even though he was wearing his favourite style of clothing (white dress shit, vest, blue undershirt, black pants.). However, he didn't feel like exposing his back to Lan here, he didn't trust him enough to let him see his marks. Instead he turned around after the Thirty seconds it took to throw his stuff in a corner and looked Lan in the eyes, his own shimmering with their split difference. Logan had always liked his eyes, they made him feel like he could get away with 2 types of personalities.

"I'm gunna get me some food, so I'm out." He lit a cigarette as he walked towards the door, hoping the dude didn't mind the smoke.

Lenard lay sprawled out in what was apparently his room, at least according to the worker he'd briefly accosted. It had all his stuff in it, at least- Broadcaster had been placed almost reverentially (or perhaps in sheer terror of the obviously cobbled-together safety mechanism) against the wall, and he had checked to make sure it was fine- Fortunately, nothing had been broken. He had a stand for it, which he place it against, then had lain back in his bed wishing for a radio or something.

That got old fast. Lenard sat up, annoyed. There was nothing to do here, except wait. Back home there'd always been gardens to tend or walls to watch. Sure, maybe he could go down to the targets or... Maybe he could do that.

As he walked down the hall, he noticed Logan standing shocked at a door, but didn't pay much attention. If he did, he'd probably end up shocked too, and what would that accomplish? Lenard glanced inside as he passed, but didn't see anything special and kept moving. It might have looked strange to see a man go walking down the halls with a shotgun as tall as he was, if they noticed.

Lenard made his way down to the targets (amazing, isn't it?) and training fields, noting the number of trainees milling about and working. Huh. There's more people than I 'spected. Why not just mob the other guys, if they only use twelve? No matter how tough they are, twelve men can't take down half a hundred, if my guess it right. Deciding it must be some kind of stupid rule about team sizes and proportions, Lenard stepped over to an open target.

Broadcaster was raised to the Harvester's shoulder, its hydraulic brace settling in.

Alright... Pretend it's the doc. He squeezed the trigger. With a crack like a thousand twelve-gauges strapped onto a firecracker the gun fired and sent Lenard stumbling back. The hydraulic brace hissed and slammed shut with a belch of steam. Fortunately, his armor prevented him from actually being injured by the shot. The target had been...

"Motherfucker," Lenard groaned, staring in dismay. He'd taken a chunk out of the target's left side, but the shots had mostly just torn up the dirt a ways behind, and probably a few dents in the wall. Obviously, he had to work on his aim. A lot.

Maen had stayed behind to watch the other people training as Lan took off. Most of the regular soldiers seemed to be performing at levels befitting their rank. Missing a target here, hitting a target there. Just when he had given up hope on humanity, he noticed another one of his new teammates, Lampford or something, stroll onto the training grounds. He was carrying a gun that looked like it belonged on a tank, or at least something capable of absorbing the recoil. Nevertheless, Lamb-something raised it to his shoulder and, after a brief pause, pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang as the gun let loose and the recoil caused Lumber to stumble back a bit. Maen looked to the target, surprisingly only a bit of it was blown to pieces. It appeared that the majority of the shot had been wasted. Still, the damage that had been done was more than enough to take someone out. After a pause he decided to walk up to Lionel, or whatever his name was. "That thing looks like it hurts." He said.

Lenard looked over as Maen approached, surprised at his interest. He grinned and nodded. "Hell yeah. When I asked for their biggest shotgun, they sure gave it." And I kinda wish they hadn't. "Too bad I'll have to tone it down somehow. Don't think the other domes would appreciate me blasting the hell outta their prodigal sons and all." He looked from the smoking barrel to the target. "Not that I really get how to do that. Rubber bullets probably wouldn't... I mean, the content of the shot is probably not the issue here." 

He began to open the casing to reload, slipping another oversized canister into the slot. "Reminds me- You're a sniper, right? How's that work in all this?"