Irene Thompson's Story

The usual harsh florescent lights illuminated the usual white tiled floors, giving the room a sense of blankness. The blankness seemed interrupted by a dark haired figure in a black long sleeved shirt and black pants that contrasted sharply with her surroundings. The woman was sitting at a stainless steel table, hunched over a detailed map, a look of pure concentration furrowing her brow. Scientists watched closely from a room that looked into the woman's through thick one-way glass. Several of the scientists were quickly scribbling on clipboards; others were frantically clacking on keyboards, making the small room seem noisy. Despite this nearby activity, the woman's room was almost deathly silent.

A moment later, the silence was shattered by a high and nasally man's voice coming over the speaker. "Miss Thompson, you are to locate Terra Werrids." Irene never looked up, but her eyes softly closed as she concentrated on the name. "She is a single mother of two," the scientist said. They were still trying to determine exactly what kind of information Irene Thompson could use, and so far the results had been promising. Irene started to feel a distinct pulling and she gave a small nod. "Can you tell us the distance? Be exact as you can, please." Irene gave a small sigh, her eyes slowly opening as she gauged how strong the pull was. Luckily, it seemed this woman was close and Irene could easily give them a precise number. "Thirteen miles," she said flatly, waiting for the usual next question. The scientist looked at a woman nearby who nodded to confirm Irene's answer. "And what direction, Miss Thompson?" "Northeast," she said abruptly, nearly cutting the man off.

The man cleared his throat rather loudly at her seeming impatience before looking at the woman next to him, who confirmed that as well. He then continued, his fellow scientists still madly typing and scribbling like their lives depended on it. Which they very well could. "Can you show us on the map? The range you can be absolutely certain, please." Irene looked down at the map, already bored with this exercise. How could she not be? They had her doing it twice a day, every day since she came here, along with sniper lessons. All in all it was a mundane routine that there was no escape from.

She slowly reached out her hand, looking carefully at the map and measuring the pull in her mind again. A moment later, she made a small circle with her fingertip around the southern tip of a city called Reybourn. "Can you give us a smaller range?" Irene's dark green eyes flashed to the one way glass, staring like she could see through it to the small man behind. A moment later, she looked down again concentrating fiercely. All she wanted was to satisfy them so she could leave. It was fairly early, and she was tired already. Thinking hard, she managed to circle one ciy block, sweat starting to sprout on her brow. "Any more?" came the nasally reply. Irene answered with a shake of her head. "I need more information." The scientist gave a small nod, relatively happy with the subject’s progress.

When Irene Thompson had first arrived, Dr. Herit had thought that the experiment had been a failure. Even with a picture, a name, and a detailed description, the subject had only been able to give vague descriptions of the location of the target. She often used words like somewhat near, very far, somewhere to the north. He was pleased that, with practice, the subject had shown great improvement. The range of the subject’s abilities had more than doubled.

Irene herself was happy that she had improved. At first, the feeling of being worthless was almost overwhelming. However, using her abilities seemed to be like learning to play an instrument and it became somewhat easier as she practiced. So far, with so little information, this was the most exact she had ever been. Suddenly, and announcement over the speakers interrupted her train of thought.

"All prototypes, please report to the commons. All prototypes, please report to the commons."

Dr. Herit entered the room a moment later, looking at her behind thick glasses. "That is all for this morning. Follow me, please." For Irene, the thought of being lead to the commons was absurd. Not only had she been there regularly, but she could find it blindfolded if she wanted to. Nevertheless, she quickly, obediently got up and followed the short man through the familiar halls. She paid little notice to the various forms they passed, wondering on how this meeting would go. They quickly reached the commons and she entered alone, Dr Herit scurrying off to attend to other business.

There were already several others in the room, and Irene silently took a seat at one of the empty tables. She then stared at her folded hands as if they contained the answer to a great mystery, avoiding awkward eye contact and, hopefully, conversation with her fellow prototypes.

The others had a Before. Jane knew; she had tricked, wheedled, pried, and beat the story out of just about everyone one way or another. The others had a time when things were different, a Before and a Now with a thick red line in between. John pulled the pictures out of their heads and showed them to her sometimes. In the others' memories, arms cradled against them, tucking them away from the world. There were no doctors, no tests, no constant presences that lingered in the air. Privacy. Then, the line was drawn, and all they knew was the light from the holding vats. Jane had seen the holding vats from the outside before. She didn't remember her time in them. She had been too young. The memories after the vats matched her own.

John had another word for what Jane called the Before. He called it a life. And every time he called it that she asked him, if that was life, what had they been doing for the last twenty-three years? He never answered her. He just played her favorite song into the air around them.

Jane sat, staring at the two pieces of paper for a long time, not speaking. John was rummaging through his drawers, looking for something inconsequential. He was making a lot of noise, muttering to himself and letting little flickers of this or that image float through the air. Normally it annoyed her, but the puzzle in her hand was too big to be ignored.

4261A: Psi

4261B: Beta

"What does it mean, John?" she said.

"Have you been stealing my belts again?" John answered. Jane nodded. John rolled his eyes. "Did you kill anyone with it?" Jane shook her head.

"I did strongly imply it. That new girl, the Eagle one, she needed to be brought in line." John huffed and then pulled out a different belt, threading it through the loops in his jeans.

"Use your own clothes next time," he grumbled. He ambled across the room and snatched the papers out of her hand. There was a sharp pain in Jane's finger and she hissed, clutching her hand against her chest. Paper cut. She shot John an accusing look, but he was focused on the papers. Sighing, Jane watched the cut as it knit itself together and turned dull pink instead of red. It would be healed in the next few hours.

"I don't know. They're probably just different working teams," John said. Even as he spoke, he could feel his skin tingling, a dull itching sensation all over. "Jane, either cut it out or go obsess in your own room," he snapped. Jane frowned, but closed her eyes and made an effort to reel her emotions in. It didn't occur to her to apologize and John didn't expect it of her.

"All prototypes, please report to the commons. All prototypes, please report to the commons."

John grinned and slung an arm around his sister's shoulders. "Orientation," he said, leading her out of the room. "On the outside, it has something to do with school, or something like that," he told her. He created doppelgangers of himself as they walked, soundless but solid that crowded the rest of the prototypes away from them and left their path clear. He knew how irritable she got when she was jostled.

"I don't like that we have different designations," Jane said. John shrugged.

"I don't like purple," he answered as they came into the Commons. He led them to the first set of tables he saw, already occupied by another prototype, Irene he thought her name was, and sat Jane down before hopping up to perch himself on the table top.

"Morning, Irene," he said brightly. Jane snorted and put her head down on the table, her arms folded underneath her cheek.

Several other prototypes entered, but Irene ignored them all. She had nothing to say that was of any value so the best option for her was silence. Two of the prototypes who entered the room sat near her at the table. The man happily greeted her and she decided to look up. The man had light grey eyes and dark hair. His skin seemed to have an odd green tint that was similar to the woman beside him. She realized she had seen them before here and she began looking for a name. John perhaps, but numbers also came to mind. She wasn't entirely sure so she decided to not use the name she had come up with. All these thoughts flashed through her mind in a few seconds, a blank look on her face, before she responded.

"Morning." The greeting had no warmth in it; not much of anything really. It sounded more like a statement of the fact that it was morning than like any sort of greeting. However, John now had Irene's attention, at least for the moment. She studied his face, noting his features, before turning her gaze to the woman. She had similar features to John, with dark hair and green tinted skin. She also seemed to share some of his facial features and Irene thought it was likely that they were siblings.

Her musings were interrupted by the entrance of a man who immediately called out for their attention. His voice rasped in a way that made Irene want to cringe. He sounded like he needed to cough, but was holding it back. He appeared to be a scientist and was holding a clipboard that he immediately began reading out to them in that irritating voice. She took out the card she had been given from a back pocket before looking more closely at the bottom line. Psi. It seemed she would stay there. She began wondering what the distinction was. would they just be assigned different kinds of missions, or was it something worse than that.

In either case, she wondered whether the Psi or the Beta would get the short end of the stick.

Zakhar Hahn Goff

---

It had been a struggle to follow the words with the constantly noisy events poking at his attention, but Zak had finally made it to the last page. He tossed the rugged chunk of paper onto the table and glanced to the side. What a waste of time. The others hadn't seemed so bad. The comical anecdotes coming from a few tables down had not been as much in his taste, as the interest peaked by the women who had been telling them.

More intrigued was he by the girl that had simply stated her name. Perhaps he would converse with her and the others. He stood from his seat, his gangling build allowed for sharp anchorage, his body thin but strongly built, and his arms long with enough toned muscle to make for an over-all appealing torso.

He never minded the company of others, but seeing as he was quite awkward with social interaction, an ice breaker would be sought. He had always kept close ties with the staff of OKARI, tossing meaningless compliments every which way. It had gotten him far, insurmountably creating quite the suck-up. He didn't mind the title, it meant nothing to him. Nor did any of the doctors, nurses, or even kitchen maids, whom's favor he had easily hooked around his finger.

Making his way to the furthest wall, where two metallic blinds covered what was a service counter that had offered him many meals before, he tapped softly on the wall behind him. The blinds quickly opened, and a woman in her mid-thirties leaned out, craning her neck to search for the source of the tapping.

"Oh, Zakhar." She smiled the affable smile that Zak so commonly over looked. "What can I get you?"

"Coffee." He flashed the woman with three fingers, an explanatory request that she took immediately, ducking back under the blinds and soon returning with three fresh cups of coffee.

"Mrs. Rosenburg." He stepped in front of the counter, a hand in his pocket as he leaned forward, his fingers reaching towards the woman's chest for a beaded necklace with a small diamond on the end. He lifted the jewel gently on the tip of his finger without hesitation, glancing up at the woman who was now red in the face. "This is new."

"Why.. why yes. My husband gave it to me last week."

"Lovely." He had let the diamond slip from his finger as he leaned back out through the window, snatching the three cups of coffee and making his way back to the tables. Even to him, this voice showed a tone of aloofness, but never-the-less, the woman smiled before shutting the blinds once more.

He set the three coffees at the table that the Jane girl had claimed. They were all quite attractive, the three women who had taken base so timidly together. Yet they stayed quiet, awkward in their own little bubble, as if all of this would come to an end, and they would never have to speak to each other again.

"Zakhar." The introduction had been directed towards Jane, a parody of sorts. It had also been an attempt to get a few words from the others. He separated the coffees, handing one to the girl with glasses, then Jane, and the last to the girl, who had features almost boyish compared to the others. "It will wake you up." He gestured to the coffee.

All in all, he was a socially acceptable person. The awkward limits of conversation bared a heavy mark on his personality, but gaining the trust of others was an important factor when you were a killing machine. It was something new to him, "friendship". However, it was something to do, and he was running quite short on books to read.

Irene's gaze went immediately to the door, interested in the spectacle. It seemed a couple of the Betas, a dark haired woman and this "Mr.Lorentz", were not happy with the total lack of information. It looked like it would dissolve into a fight, probably with the scientist being killed or worse. Lorentz hurled a spike at the man. It was made of some aluminum that he had been messing with before that probably had been a pop can. Irene calmly wondered if his power was simply manipulation of objects, or if it was something more complex than that. Suddenly, wires darted out from a man that Irene hadn't noticed before. One of the wires that hadn't sliced the spike, and the floor, wrapped around the scientist's neck. The mysterious man then got them going to their destination. It was supposedly some meeting, though Irene doubted that was the whole truth. With that, the Betas shuffled down the hall and out of sight.

With almost half of the prototypes now out of the room, Irene was feeling ever so slightly more comfortable. She was used to waiting quietly, though the first while she had been here she hated never knowing what was going on, she eventually became used to it. Now, however, some of the other Psi were trying to start conversation and get to know each other. She decided it would be a nice change, and she listened attentively to each introduction.

The first man, who started the conversation, said his name is Francis Washington, Wash for short, and some nonsense about painting and walking on the beach. He was a tall man with long, dark hair drawn back into a ponytail. The next was Jane, whose brother had greeted Irene. She hoped that he would be alright, but quickly pushed the thought away. It was useless to worry or become attached at a place like this where everyone was replacable. Next was the woman who called herself Vein. She seemed confident, even showing a sarcastic sense of humor that Irene found refreshing in all this blandness.

While the others were introdicing themselves, the man who had seemed busy reading a book apparently finished and was talking to a woman at the service counter. A moment later, he set a few cups of coffee infront of them while introducing himself as Zakhar. She nodded at him with an abrupt, "Thank you," before introducing herself. "I am Irene Thompson. You may call me whatever you wish, I don't much care." The statment didnt seem to be to anyone in particular, but to everyone in the room. She calmly sipped the coffee, enjoying the warmth and bitterness. It did wake her up a bit, and she enjoyed it.

Anrie Ackerman

Anrie sat still in her chair as the betas completely left. The room’s babble lessened once more before the man who had been chatty since the moment he had came in spoke up again. This time she listened in, getting the sense that she would be passing time with these people whether she wanted too or not.

"Since it seems like we'll be involved with each other for the moment. Having a name to a face is much more beneficial in any team situation, especially if its football, so why not introduce yourselves. Like I was about to say, I'm Francis Washington, just call me Wash. I enjoy painting and long walks on beaches. It's a pleasure to finally be able meet you all" Anrie gazed at him, wondering how he could talk so much in a situation like this where he was surrounded by possibly dangerous people and had the chance that many of them not want to talk, might simply hate him for saying anything at all. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek, a subtle sign of displeasure.

However, she waited patiently. Anrie would introduce herself in a moment when she had gathered the information from the others. How would she do it? Was a simple greeting efficient? Did they want all her hobbies? Anrie realized she was still gawking and lowered her gaze to her lap to think but a feminine voice, sounding restless, paused her thoughts and made her raise her gaze to find the speaker. “Jane.” Anrie straightened in her seat, finding that perhaps she could find a balance in the conversational technique. If she could use a friendly approach and yet find simplicity at the same time, approval would be secured. ‘Hello. I’m Anrie Ackerman. Pleased to meet you…No that wouldn’t work. Is it too formal? How would I greet Santaio? A variation of that would perhaps work. I’m pleased to meet all of you. My name is Anrie Ackerman. Ahah!’ She found the answer to her trouble right as the next woman spoke. "Alright, my name's Vein. I occassionally turn into a walking shard of crystal in my free time." Vein drawled, taking another sip from her flask after her introduction. "And if I'd have known this would have been socialite hour, I woulda gotten drunk off my ass beforehand." Anrie placed a hand to her lips hiding the inner chuckle that didn't quite make it to her outside appearance but was there in her mind. The woman certainly had funny jokes for being such a seemingly rowdy person. Anrie brushed off the amusement and restlessly took her raised hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear and return to her own introduction.

She started to speak but a coffee cup settled down in front of her and she quieted, following the hand up to see the red-haired man. "Zakhar." Anrie nodded, and put the face to the name like she had done for the others. He seemed rather agreeable compared to her first analysis of his attitude. "It will wake you up." He gestured to the coffee but Anrie glanced to the last person to speak up and waited before she did anything. Her expression bordered on calm boredom and interest, which was an odd combination. "Thank you," The woman spoke to Zakhar before beginning, "I am Irene Thompson. You may call me whatever you wish, I don't much care." Irene sipped at her coffee and Anrie contemplated her attitude. Maybe Irene felt the same way she did? The answer was most likely not. She looked down at the sophisticated looking coffee cup sitting in front of her and she felt the corner of her lips pull ever so slightly. Almost a smile but the feeling faded as soon as it came and she exhaled serenely.

Anrie tenderly reached forward and curled her hands around the warm cup, looking into the depths of the black liquid as she prepared her own introduction, going over the key points again. Perfection was the first key.

“Thank you, Zakhar. I’m pleased to meet you all. My name is Anrie Ackerman. I hope that we will all experience pleasant times together.” She raised her eyes and cast them over the people surrounding her, emotionless strength whispering from her crimson gaze. She truly hoped that the future would bode well and that she would not be facing these people in battle. For one to have bloodstained hands was for one to place a responsibility upon their shoulders. She didn’t believe in this rule. She killed because it was necessary and if any of them became something that was necessary to kill, she could not hesitate no matter her feelings on it. Anrie raised the cup gingerly and took a small sip.

Zakhar Hahn Goff

---

“Thank you, Zakhar. I’m pleased to meet you all. My name is Anrie Ackerman. I hope that we will all experience pleasant times together.” He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the seamlessly exercised words as they left the subtle lips of this 'Anrie' woman. They truly expected such a frail, doll of a female to stand ground as a blood-thirsty killing machine? The woman to had introduced herself as Irene held a spot on the opposite side of the spectrum. She was far less frail, far more equipotent. She, at least, he could see holding her ground in the face of death. He retained the doubt in his mind for no more than a minute before simply shrugging it off and returning to his previous state of mind. The kind that felt numb to all of the questions surrounding him in this aphotic world.

"Yeah." Was all he replied with. There was no need to say anymore, and even if the need had arisen, his options were rather ambiguous. He had a way with elders, beings he could see in the light of death, and simply turn his back on in a sense that lacked humanity, and compensated in betrayal. They were simply humans of which had no emotional ties to him. However, when the only memories you sustain are of such a place as OKARI, you very rarely would meet a person of such youth. He received a different vibe; a sense of vivid equality between he and the others. They all had a similar scent. That sharp virile smell of tampered blood, a glorious river just below the soft custodial layers of flesh that concealed their bones. The scent, though easily obscured and somewhat difficult to retrieve, had long stayed stagnant and feeble in the large and desolate room.

Zak reached into his pocket to retrieve his near-empty pack of cigarettes. He placed one between his lips, lifting to it, a lighter. Shielding the flame with his palm, he lit the end of the cigarette. The dancing stream of grey and white lifted in front of him, taking to the ceiling and burning his eyes with tender grasps, nearly budging for vexation. He had made sure he was the only one standing, so as not to bother those closest to him with the pestiferous smoke.

His eyes shifted to the side of the room, avoiding the severity of the awkward mood that could unfold. Without directing it towards a soul, or for that matter, even looking into the eyes of those he was speaking to, he pulled the cigarette from lips and exhaled a thick fog of opaque smoke.

"Nice to meet you."

Frustration seemed to pound through every single of beat of her slender fingers as the sibling tapped her nails against the table. Her restlessness showed in the tension of her shoulders and the inclination of discontent in her gaze. A gaze which seemed to refuse acceptance of anyone within that cold room. “Jane” She’d said simply without looking up to address anyone.

“Thank you, Jane” Francis bowed.

Briefly, his sharp eyes observed Jane with hint of sorrow, like a farmer to his sick livestock before he sat down as if stepping of stage. Francis’ handsome face came to rest against his hand as he waited patiently for the introduction of the others. His constant grin implying his wry amusement. He didn’t have to wait long.

"Alright, my name's Vein. I occasionally turn into a walking shard of crystal in my free time." Vein drawled, taking another sip from her flask. Francis’ hazel eyes followed the motion up and down as if it where natural. "And if I'd have known this would have been socialite hour, I woulda gotten drunk off my ass beforehand." He chuckled lightly at the remark, the words suiting her prior action perfectly.

Temporarily, Vein’s lips betrayed the slightest hint of a smile and perhaps amusement at Francis’ mannerisms. Francis hummed in return to her introduction, his soft features contradicting her boldness. He appreciated her good sense of humor, a rare quality in a place such as this. “Ha, Never fear, I’m sure plenty of other opportunities will present themselves in future” He greeted her with another smile, his voice filled with mirth. His other hand gestured with a nonchalant wave whilst he looked towards her flask once more. “Besides, I always hear it’s more enjoyable to drink in the presence of others, particularly ones as raggedy as us”

Quite suddenly, the red haired man stood up, a tiny, dissatisfied twitch of his mouth the only indication of his thoughts. As if on some hidden signal, one of his long, spider-like limbs had discarded his book to the side like a dead fly. That book that he’d been so keenly reading over the course of the orientation. Zahkar was his name. A creature guided by fickle whims it seemed. Francis had merely nodded his head in agreement when the man returned with a trio of steaming cups in hand.

Another woman did likewise and nodded her thanks as she simultaneously addressed Zakhar and the group, "Thank you, I am Irene Thompson. You may call me whatever you wish, I don't much care." Her face gave of a contented look as she sipped from the warm liquid. Irene's calm figure exuded a quiet confidence and like Vein, she was bold, but bold in action as opposed to emotion.

“Thank you, Zakhar. I’m pleased to meet you all. My name is Anrie Ackerman. I hope that we will all experience pleasant times together.” Anrie was last but not least. Her quiet introduction only came after much deliberation as her mouth struggled to form the right words. She’d startled him at first, with her crimson eyes and a staunch gaze which contradicted her tender figure. Like before, her thoughts became a mystery to him. Her introduction was delivered without any inflection of emotion, her voice and attitude verging on boredom and indifference. Still, he was glad that she'd spoken at all. It meant that she wasn't completely opposed to the idea of socialising. He had to resist the urge of teasing these two woman, Irene and Anrie, their quiet personalities fueling his curiosity. Instead he settled his attention on the distinct smell of tobacco once more.

Zakhar had lit a cigarette once more in reply before speaking, the smoke hovering over his face, "Nice to meet you."

At that, Francis clapped once, apparently taking a moment to gaze at them all as he rubbed his hands together. “That’s everyone! Well done team Psi! And fear not…” He commended them all with his delighted expression, his white grin almost gleaming under the light. “No matter what situations may arise in future, no matter your pasts, I can earnestly say that is my greatest pleasure to be able to meet you all now. We all share a similar fate, so at the very least lets enjoy ourselves for the moment. These meetings don't come often afterall”

John hesitated over the threshold, not because he was surprised at the room (he had long ago stopped being surprised at the range of environments housed in the OKARI base), but because stepping into the room was like falling underwater, like stuffing his head with cotton. He couldn't see into anyone's head anymore. There were no more sights or sounds filtering through his head. He stifled his reaction and sauntered over to the cushy, generic-looking couch. He threw him self down on it, so that he was sprawled lazily over one corner.

"It's probably just another test," he said with deliberate loudness. He had no doubt that they were being monitored in some way by someone. If there was a fight coming, he was more comfortable playing the dumb blonde than announcing his intentions. And if any of the other Betas were convinced by them and could be made into human shields, so be it.

---

Jane was annoyed when Francis accepted her curt introduction with charm and graciousness. The chatty girl called herself Vein, which was stupid. She kept petulantly silent, closing her eyes. John wasn't hurt. He wasn't panicked. Maybe she was overreacting...

"Zakhar." Her musings were interrupted when the crimson-haired boy set a hot cup of coffee in front of her. Jane almost thought he had made a joke the way he introduced himself. She eyed the cup he put in front of her, before taking it and drinking it down. She wouldn't even admit to herself that the small twinge she felt was gratitude. She sipped the drink while tapping her nails against the table, a staccato rhythm to accompany her agitation. Her fury only rose the longer they spoke and exchanged pleasantries. The girl who bored her was Anrie, the girl who stared was Irene (though apparently Jane had express permission to find a name more suitable), and golly gee, weren't they all just so thrilled to be together forever! Finally, she slapped her palm down on the table, hard.

"Pardon my manners," she snarled, "But I just want to be clear. Are we only pretending to engage in inane chatter while God know who decides who knows what about our immediate futures, or are we actually that dense?"

---

Vein agreed with Francis' incentive and, as if to show it, tilted her container to the room, took another sip, and then pocketed it once more. Everyone else introduced themselves afterward, and she found that their names were Zahkar, Irene, and Anrie. She eyed the coffee that she didn't receive with a mild amount of bitterness, but she could understand why the red headed guy wouldn't have gotten her a cup as well. She was kind of an obnoxious asshole who still went by a call name she'd given herself when she was fourteen and "goth". She laughed at the word, and her own stupidity, and suddenly her desire for their coffee had vanished because she didn't really give a shit.

All of her "team mates" were weirdos, herself included, albeit they had their charms. Zakhar was awkward but sociable enough, Irene blunt but to the point, Anrie formulated by polite nonetheless, Francis chatty but well intentioned, Jane curt but the only one who didn't seem to be currently deluding herself. She wondered idly if they'd ever accomplish much of anything. Then Zak was lighting a cig and Vein considered fetching one of her own but didn't for the sake of not looking like some sort of mime.

Wash clapped his hands and began to spill out an inspirational speech. She had to applaud him for preaching to such an unmoved crowd. Clearly none of the other occupants in the room were easily enthused or even a little bit inspired, but he certainly tried. She could appreciate that kind of tenacity, though she was sure he must have been faking everything he said. No one could be that genuinely happy after OKARI. No one. So, even if she doubted his sincerity, it was noted that he gave effort to being a civil human being.

"Pardon my manners," Jane growled. "But I just want to be clear. Are we only pretending to engage in inane chatter while God know who decides who knows what about our immediate futures, or are we actually that dense?" she had said. Vein laughed, loud. She barked it out, not even trying to seem she didn't find the outburst hilarious- not making fun of her, but rather the other way around. Her spunk was refreshing, and her words rang with a truth that Vein had been thinking this entire time. Honestly, Vasanta was as frustrated with their situation as Jane seemed to be, so the vocalization was something she delighted in. She let her chuckles die out, and wiped a tear from her eye. "Pretty sure it's the latter of the two," she answered with a sigh, cracking her neck and giving one of those wry grins that really meant, "what the fuck are we doing here?"

Francis watched the entire exchange with a mixture of something resembling mild amusement and surprise. Jane seemed to be on the verge of exasperation, her slender figure trembling with barely contained incredulity. Her long dark hair almost seemed to frizz with the outburst as her narrowed eyes fixated on Zahkar angrily. She stood forwards, slowly and deliberately bringing her face up to match Zahkar’s own impassive expression.

Despite his own self-evident amusement, Francis’ muscles tensed as he felt the conflict escalating to boiling point. His hazel eyes glared at the two, prepared to use his own power and break up the fight if necessary. He wasn’t overtly thrilled by the prospect of a duel between prototypes in an enclosed space such as the commons room. Not when six of them where packed in it, and especially not when it wasn't necessary. Zahkar looked sensible enough, but Jane, brimming with uncharacteristic fury, looked just about ready to start something.

By either pure luck or judgment, Anrie chose her moment to speak then. “I agree. Most of us here probably know that they have a plan for us. However, with that in mind, OKARI won’t tell us all the details. Only the one’s that matter, to get whatever job it is done.” Anrie spoke, her eyes opening to view her fingers fidget and rearrange themselves on her lap. “My suggestion is to wait to see what they ask of us and then to act based on that.” She finished and gazed at the rest in silent calm.

Jane seemed to recompose herself at the intrusion, her shoulders easing and releasing the tension which had perceptibly built up within her. Francis did likewise, leaning back into his seat as his hand hovered over the table. He ran his fingers across the cold surface in waves, playfully toying with his own imagination of how the team would work together. Jane’s reply to Zahkar was reminiscent of a petulant child’s, her response practically oozing from her lips with sharp cynicism. ”Maybe Francis is right, this is turning out to be the greatest pleasure, to make your acquaintance." She virtually hissed "So glad we're working together." At that, Jane faced her head away, sitting back down as if the matter was resolved.

“So glad somebody else agrees with me also” Francis teased lightly, perking up at the mention of his name.

Irene gave a small huff that almost sounded like a chuckle when 'Wash' called them 'Team Psi' like this was some sort of game. His not-so-inspiring inspirational speech was slightly irritating to Irene. What was the use of making light of their situation? It changed nothing. Though she wasn't totally opposed to small talk, it wasn't exactly easy for her. She would rather be silent, or at least talk about something more important. It seemed that Jane shared her feelings, and she angrily addressed them.

A moment later, Vein burst out laughing. It was a welcome distraction from the still rising tension. It seemed she always had something sarcastic to say, and it made Irene remeber something, or almost remember. It was really too fuzzy to be called a memory and more of a feeling of deja vu. She wondered what exactly it reminded her of, and was startled when Zakhar slapped his hands on the table next to her. Apparently what Jane said really irritated him. He motioned to the various cameras, scientists, and the guard that Irene had ignored. They were such a nartual part of her life that she never took notice of them anymore. They always did what seemed like the same thing and it was no use worrying about them here.

'They will kill you, hmmm?' she thought, noting the amused smile on his face. 'Tell us something we don't already know.' The tensions continued to grow, and Irene was concerned that a fight would start. It didn't help that she was right next to them either. She didn't even have anythng to defend herself with. Thankfully, Anrie's words seemed to calm Jane, and, with a few posonous words, she sat down again. Wash teased Jane and, though it seemed without any malice, Irene could only wonder how she would react. Vein then put in her opinion and Irene agreed somewhat, just not in the same words. Irene didn't feel there was much of use that she could say, so she again remained silent.

So far, this meeting was crazy. All Irene wanted was for someone to hurry up and tell them what they were supposed to do before things did blow up.

At the sound of returning footsteps, only one pair, Irene looked to the door. A moment later, the same gruff scientist entered, cleared his throat to get their attention, and spoke. Irene raised an eyebrow when he mentioned that they were going to be training together from that point on. She wasn't surprised, and merely decided that Okari would do what Okari wanted to do. She had little problem with it either. She only hoped that this training would help them to mesh better as a team, though she didn't expect much. Vein was right when she said that, ultimately, they were all just killers. That was what they were trained to do, and Irene knew that she would kill whoever she was ordered to without hesitation. There was no displeasure at the thought, it was a simple fact.

Irene quickly glanced at the group of prototypes. It seemed they had a couple hot heads, an eternal optimist, a smart mouth, and a couple quiet ones, herself included. Out of all of them, the quiet, seemingly emotionless Anrie was the one who she was the most usure of out of the group. The others already showed a bit of their personalities, some of their tempers, but Anrie had given away little.

Irene's attention reverted to the large, black case that was being wheeled into the room. It was opened to reveal a large amount of varied weapons, all seeming brand new. Irene noted the weapons carefully until her eyes stopped on one particular one. It was a sniper rifle, similar to the one she had been training with, but it definitely had a few extra features. The design was sleek, plain, but it had a certain beauty nonetheless.

She watched as Zahkar quickly made his choice, an intricately decorated double-sided dagger. It was just another clue to this man, apparently was comfortable with close combat. Next was Wash, who chose sub-machine pistols and various other weapons. He certainly took his time, and Irene was surprised at the sheer amount of weaponry the man could place on his person. As soon as Wash was out of the way, Vein fairly pounced, snatching a whip without hesitation. A look of satisfaction was apparent on her face as she sat down and puffed on her cigarette. Anrie stepped forward next, picking out a katana-like blade. Irene noticed a small vestige of happiness on her face, and was intrigued that picking out a weapon had brought a definite emotion to her face, if a slight one.

As she stepped up to the case, Irene knew a similar expression to Anrie's was now on her face. A slight raise at the corner of her mouth, a certain twinkle in her eye as she gingerly picked up the rifle. Without further ado, she slung the strap over her shoulder and began looking for other things she could use. She picked up a long, durable looking dagger and was handed a belt that went with it. There was also a small pouch on the belt that she put ammunition and several explosives inside. Confidently, she walked back to the table, putting on the belt before sitting back at the table.

Francis shuffled aside to make space as Vein’s seemingly buzzing figure squeezed itself in between Zahkar and he, interrupting his musings. He’d been observing Zahkar’s expression with a tingling sense of dread and discomfort. Even though the red haired man had inclined his head, hiding his features from his view, Francis could feel the quiet vibe of anticipation and excitement fixated in his actions. Francis’ own expression formed a delighted frown as he spotted a similar grin wrapped across Vein’s cheeks. The irritation from her competitiveness seemed to finally affect his being, causing him to shrug dismally before raising an eyebrow at her whip. “You guys are enjoying this alot” He commented whilst scratching the back of his head. “Though, I can’t tell if you’re all serious or not with those choice of weapons”

His head cocked to the side, Francis’ shoulders slackened comically as he spotted Anrie returning from the weapons rack, treasuring a sword in her hands. “However, since it seems so many of you enjoy close combat; I should have plenty of shields to hide behind when things get hairy” He grinned with mock humour. Francis’ eyes glanced over the final two members, clearly wondering if Irene and Jane's decisions would follow the same trend. Irene’s rifle of choice seemed to appease his curiosity however, causing him to release an inaudible sigh of relief as the woman returned to her seat silently.

At that point they were instructed to advance to the training room. Francis followed after Zahkar as he approached one of the awaiting female doctors, encouraging the woman to lead them to the VTS room. He chuckled lightly at him as Zahkar wrapped an arm around her, reminded of how he’d brought some of the Psis coffee earlier. They arrived in front of an unassuming door not long after. Hidden behind the wooden panel was a vast, empty void. Idly, Francis’ gaze reflected of the white panelled walls before being drawn to the centre of the domed roof. Like a diligent snail, the doctor retreated back to her control room, leaving Francis alone with Zahkar to ponder if OKARI had fixed the machine since he’d last heard of it.

He caught a frustrated sigh from the other man as he leant against a wall and in return smiled with amusement. “So friend, any theories on what we’ll fight?”

Irene looked up as the man spoke again, her ears almost seeming to perk up with anticipation. Training with a new, fancy weapon was something that cheered her up. It was, oddly, one of the few things that made her feel totally at peace. Making sure of the security of her weapons, Irene stood, watching a moment as the others filed out, before she followed Anrie and the irritable nurse Anrie had chosen to lead her. If a walk and a silence could be filled with disdain, this was it. Irene wanted to laugh at the nurse's pettiness over something as simple as guiding them to the simulator. Anrie seemed irritable as well and Irene nearly laughed when she stuck her tongue out at the nurse's retreating form.

When Anrie went through the door and into the room, Irene did let out a single laugh that sounded almost like a bark. A true smile, at least a true smile for Irene, was on her face. It was actually one that would be visible to anyone, no matter how little they knew of Irene's usual body language. She quickly slipped in, not wanting the door to close and leave her stranded outside, her face once again blank and calm. It would be embarrassing to need to knock. Inside was a room she was fairly familiar with, having trained there several times. The panels, white of course, covered the entire domed room. Some unimpressive, also white, stairs lead up to the control room.

Irene wondered at the short length of this training session. It was not like any of them had much else to do, so why so short? What exactly was going to be thrown at them? Irene shifted her rifle, ready to use it at a moment's notice. The scene changed, from the default clouds, to fuzziness, to tall grasses with a structure outlined by the setting sun in the distance.

The instructions from the speaker caused Irene to adjust the rifle once more before she ran after Zakhar. Several feet from the gate, Irene abruptly stopped, immediately sidestepping to the right through the tall grasses. She crouched down, immediately hidden in the rough grass. Lying flat on her stomach despite the mud, she quickly set herself up and made sure of her position. She was hidden in the back by the grass, several yards from where she and Zakhar had been running before. From this position, she could clearly see the barn and the wooden targets, having a clear shot on all but one or two. From the barn, however, she would be difficult to spot unless one knew exactly where she was.

She watched one of the wooden dummies, carefully clicking off the safety. She lined it up in her sights, slowly inhaled and exhaled, the rest of her body as still as a statue as she pulled the trigger. Almost magically, at least to Irene, a small hole appeared in the dummy's forehead just an inch or so from the center. Irene realized the recoil on this rifle was a bit more than she was used to as she rubbed her newly aching shoulder. She was slightly disappointed with her aim as well. She had been aiming for the center of the forehead. Irene prepared for another shot, repeating the routine before another hole appeared, this one as dead center as one could get without measuring.

Francis started as the scenery changed abruptly before him. Tall fields of grass greeted his field of vision as Francis allowed a small gasp of shock to escape him. Instinctively he began surveying his surroundings and spotted the small silhouette of a barn at the same time as Zahkar. “Pretty nice” He grinned childishly, waving his hands between the grass blades.

As the overhead voice instructed them to advance, Francis found himself enjoying the change of scenery, even if it was fake. The rough texture of the fields of grass combined with the immature sun set a picturesque scene with the barn as the centrepiece. At that time, he felt like he was in a painting.

Zahkar’s and Irene’s hastened movements invited him to follow. He kept pace effortlessly, tracking Zahkar’s distinguishable red hair as the other man moved ahead. As he sprinted the grass didn’t seem to separate for him so much as it seemed to disappear to make way for him. Francis spotted the quant wooden fence representing the barn’s boundary ahead of him and leapt over it. Briefly, he realised Irene’s presence had suddenly vanished and wondered how’d the woman had hidden herself so fast.

Beyond the fence where several life sized mannequins. Mock illusions of men carrying shields and swords. Stopping to aim, Francis simply hosed the closest dummy with bullets, sending smoking woodchips splintering into the dirt. He unloaded half a magazine before his finger let go of the trigger, leaving only a deformed trunk of wood in the aftermath. “It’s a surprisingly accurate simulation” His pleasant tone hummed followed by another burst of gunfire and a second ruined dummy.

Irene continued the exercise, adjusting to her new weapon, getting to know its quirks and nuances from what she had previously trained with. Soon, she was completely comfortable. With this, she stopped firing entirely. She remembered that they were to face a stronger opponent soon. Irene wondered if it was something they would face as a team, or merely some things that each of them would face alone. Using both her naked eye and the scope, Irene scanned the barn in front of her and its surroundings. Her finger lightly resting on the trigger, she was prepared to fire in an instant.

The next thought that came to her was the possibility that the next, stronger target might not come from that direction at all, but from behind or to either side. From her position, it was impossible to see farther than ten feet in any of those directions, and even less with any clarity. Uneasily, she loosened her dagger from its sheath, ready to pull it out at the first sign of danger. She was not prepared to give up her position and stand, and she continued to scan the barn area for the opportunity of a shot at the target. She watched distractedly as her teammates destroyed several of the dummies, carefully noting their skills. It seemed she was the only one with an especially long range weapon.

Suddenly, several animals burst out from various locations. It looked like each of them would have their own opponent, so she was on her own. Her eyes quickened their search as she didn't want to be caught off guard by her enemy, and there were sounds of fighting a ways behind her. Suddenly, she heard something odd above her, like tremendous, flapping wings. Her eyes turned upward just in time to see a massive bird of some sort swooping down with large talons outstretched to grab her. Each talon was probably as long as her arm, and lethally sharp. She rolled to the side just as the birds talon's hit the ground, effortlessly leaving deep gashes and uprooting grass as it flapped heavily to gain altitude, circling above her. It's plumage was dark brown, with streaks of red and flecks of tan on its belly. Its head and neck were entirely black, its beak a brownish, dirty yellow.

As soon as the colossal bird missed her, Irene stooped and snatched up her sniper rifle. in one smooth motion, she snapped the stand closed, brought it to her shoulder, and took aim. At least it's a large target, she thought grimly, tracking the bird in its swooping and turning. Just as she was about to fire, the creature suddenly turned sharply, now moving almost in the direction it came from and heading directly toward Irene for another dive.

"Big mistake," she intoned without any emotion. She fired off one shot, two, three. The immense bird came crashing to the ground, sliding just five feet in front of her before hoping to his feet. Just standing there, it was nearly seven feet tall. Irene was already prepared to fire another shot as the injured beast lunged toward her, opening its sharp beak to snap her head off. Mid-lunge, there was the sharp retort of another shot, the bullet going through the bird's gaping maw and out the back of its head, and it fell with a crash, making Irene jump out of the way. Still aiming the loaded rifle at its head, Irene gave it a solid kick to make sure it was finally dead.

Her rifle still at the ready, Irene looked around to see that her other teammates had prevailed against their opponents as well. With a small sigh, Irene briefly smiled, her confidence in her new team increasing.