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.
"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."
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.
"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 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.
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.
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.
"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..
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."
"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.
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.
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?"