If he hadn't read her psyche profile, he might have bought it. Probably not.
"Are you actually expecting something like that?" he asked her.
Samantha lowered her head, failing to hide her face only because he was shorter than her. "No sir. I'm just a flier. I know that."
"Trainee Soar, look at me." He said sternly, not continuing until she had obeyed him. "Understand this, there is no such thing as a Citadel candidate that is just anything."
She didn't answer.
"Earlier, I told your class that all of you had the potential to be among the best. Did you think you were an exception?"
"No sir." she said, utterly lacking in conviction.
"Close your eyes."
"Sir, why-?"
"Stop talking. I said close them." he cut her off.
She did it.
"I was the one who approved your application, so I know for a fact that you had full access to your Empowerment evaluation. Don't speak, just nod your head."
She nodded.
"Did you read the portions concerning kinesthesia, proprioception and spatial awareness?"
She shook her head, trembling.
He sighed. "Samantha, I don't do pep talks. That's Director Shift's job, so we'll just have to give you a demonstration. How many targets are in the room?"
She cocked her head.
Since she couldn't see it, he smirked. "You can talk."
"Targets, sir?"
"The white papers with a black silhouette of a man on them."
"Nine, sir."
Good, she'd even spotted the one just above the door she'd come in from. "Keep your eyes closed and give me your hand."
She reached out, her hand pointed directly towards him.
"This is a gun." he said, handing her a pistol. "Careful, the safety's off."
She almost dropped it when he said that.
"When I tell you, I want you to fire a single shot at each target, as fast as you can. Keep your eyes closed"
"Okay."
"Go." he said.
She spun around and the dome was filled with the echoes of gunfire. Her shots were a little slow, probably due to her uncertainty, but she was even more accurate than he'd expected.
"Good, now you can look."
"I only hit two." she said, disappointed.
The targets were marked with paint. He wasn’t stupid enough to hand a gun loaded with regular bullets to a girl with her eyes closed.
"Have you ever fired a gun before?" he asked.
"Just- No sir, just video games."
"Ah, that explains why you did so well. Most people, the ones who haven't used a pistol designed by a Stark type, overcompensate for the recoil."
"I, uh, I don't know what that means." she said. Honest confusion was better than nervous trembling, at least.
He smiled, as gently as he could. "Don't worry about it. The point isn't how well you can shoot, not when it’s the first time you’ve ever handled a firearm." He shook his head. "You'll find a few things in your inbox tonight. An exercise routine to increase your flexibility and reflex time as well as a schedule of classes for basic pistol and rifle marksmanship. Once you've got a decent level of proficiency, we'll put you in a more customized regime."
The nervous tension in her shoulders faded, just a little.
"Trust me, once we're done, no one will doubt that you deserve to be counted among the best.
Samantha Soar smiled.
* * *
Citadel Cafeteria
Isaac sat down to eat his lunch, alone. Ignoring the mild tingling in his forehead, he took a bite. It was surprisingly good, for cafeteria food. He almost dropped the fork as he tried for the next one. Keeping his forcefield up so often was turning out to be even more of a pain than he expected. It interfered with handling small objects, pens, paper, doorknobs... and forks. He was just grateful that he was able to pass food through it, otherwise Instructor Bruce might have made him skip meals for the week.
There was a clatter of a tray on the table as someone sat across from him. Isaac looked up, careful to maintain the cold façade he'd worn in public since Saturday.
"Might wanna be careful with that." Kerry said, unimpressed.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Isaac replied.
She shrugged, and took a forkful of salad, before continuing. "The whole arrogant superiority act. It's pretty natural on Duncan but I don't buy it on you."
Ignoring the casual ease with which the girl was able to use a fork, Isaac looked around at the otherwise empty table. "Seems like everyone else does."
"Well sure, but they're not like us." she answered, with a slightly superior tone.
The six foot tall black man in his mid-thirties examined the pixie-like redheaded teenager before speaking, "Like us?"
She didn't seem to get it. "Strong. You, me, Duncan, Drew and a few of the others. The ones the Citadel really needs."
"Girl, I don't know what makes you so sure I'm putting on an act, but-"
"Kelly told me," she interrupted, "about the way you apologized, the whole misunderstanding. Said you were really nice to her, once you realized, just asked too many questions."
He let out a little sigh. "Is that it?"
"No, but it was enough to get me thinking. You came out of your first match looking pissed and covered in blood. Your one with Don, you acted like you were offended that he'd dared to challenge you then beat him like a step-child." She gave a quick grin, then continued speaking.
"I figure your first match, you overestimated your opponent. You hit him too hard or something and he, well, splooshed. After that you were pissed at yourself for making a mistake or pissed at the instructors for letting it happen. Then you threw your second match to make sure it wouldn't happen again and spent some time thinking about it." She took another bit of her salad.
"When Don challenged you, you decided to put the fear of God into everyone. You probably thought if you were scary enough, people wouldn't challenge you and you wouldn't need to worry about hurting someone by accident. That about right?"
No. "I didn't throw my second match," he said, careful to keep his tone casual despite the sneer on his face, "I was up against Jenny." And, she was only half right about his motivation.
She winced. "Ah, yeah, never mind on that part. And the rest?"
Now it was his turn to shrug. "Close enough. So why are you bringing all this up?"
"I just wanted to warn you."
He cocked his head.
"There's a fine line between being 'don't mess with him' scary and 'oh god put him down' scary. Right now, you're getting pretty close to the second. It's only how tight you are with Hector and Kelly that's kept anyone from going after you. Same way that Duncan's abuse by the instructors has kept him safe."
"Is that all?"
"No. You're not doing yourself any favors by avoiding challenge matches." she said, not bothering to hide her frustration. "We're all here to practice. Some of the others, maybe they need to learn how to fight. You and me? We're supposed to be learning how to fight without taking out everyone in the area."
"Fine, I'll keep it in mind. Anything else to add?"
She shook her head, mouth full again.
Isaac looked down, at the meal he'd barely touched, before going on. "Isn't it supposed to be 'like a redheaded stepchild?'"
Keridwyn Dragon swallowed before answering. "Not when I'm around, no." She grinned and began concentrating on her lunch in earnest.
Isaac would keep what she said in mind, but only because he'd already known it. He was here to practice the skills he'd need later in his career. There were five trainees that could currently challenge him, but which one did he want to get to do it?
* * *
The Sparring Field
"Any major revelations for me?" Anna Insight asked.
Bruce smirked. "Just a few tweaks. Like Hector, you're already on more or less the right track, I think."
She just rai
sed an eyebrow.
"I take it, from your match with Greg, that you're an MMA Unpowered fan?" he asked.
"No sir. I just thought watching a few of the championship matches would be easier than actually taking the years of martial arts classes."
"Perfectly integrated muscle memory, triggered by visual observation," the instructor sighed, "I would've killed for that power."
She looked like she wanted to say something to that but bit her lip instead of speaking out.
"Like I said, you're on the right track." He hit a few buttons on his communicator. "I just sent you a series of videos, martial arts demonstrations, knife work, championship shooting competitions and the like."
She cocked her head to the side, "Isn't that the same way I've been learning up till now?"
"Sure. The difference is, these are high speed and high fidelity so you should be able to get through them in a week or two, without information loss. Also, I made sure that they all featured at least one individual with your approximate weight and body shape. Most of those MMA fighters are a lot bigger than you are. You've demonstrated a few flaws in Coach Juggernaut's Combat classes that stem from that."
"I see." she acknowledged, with no obvious trace of irony.
"Once you're done with those, we'll get you the necessary certifications, start you on a tailored exercise regime and I'll have a course on micro-expressions that I think will do you some good. You have a natural talent in that area, but there's still room for improvement. Any questions?"
"Just one." she said, visibly steeling herself. "Are you Bruce L-"
He laughed, cutting off the rest of the familiar question.
"There's always one. No."
"But...your name, and you look just like..."
He smiled. "You know how some Empowered end up with physical changes?"
"You mean like George?" she asked, referring to the dragon boy.
"Yeah. Well, let's just say I spent a little too much time watching a certain type of movie, back before my Empowerment."
"You mean...your face and your power...just because..."
"Yep." he said, before they both starting laughing.
* * *
Training Area
Coach Achala called a halt to the exercise.
Hector stepped back from Drew, giving a wary nod. A few of the other trainees stood around, nursing their wounds or catching their breath, but the majority did the same thing as him, dressed as quickly and efficiently as they could. Drew just flickered, reappearing next to where his clothes had been, dressed and healed from the fight. Combat training wasn't so bad, now that both participants were allowed to fight back, but the coach insisted that everyone fight naked instead of just the victim.
"Well done class. Please gather round, we have a few things to go over before you're free for the weekend."
Hector hung back to watch and moved forward to join the trainees moving towards Achala. Isaac and Duncan stood at the outskirts of the group, the nearest people shying away from them. Don Dust was the opposite. He hung back on purpose, moving away nervously any time someone came near, protectively cradling a little black orb the size of a baseball.
"I'm quite pleased with the progress you've all shown. Instructor Bruce has told me that you each have a specific training program to develop your individual abilities, so this will be our last day of Basic Combat."
The crowd was hushed, though Hector could see a few suppressed smiles here and there. He was pretty sure that no one wanted to cheer in case Achala changed his mind
"There will be some changes incorporated into your ranking matches, though the challenge format will stay the same. Your Healers will explain them tomorrow, as necessary."
Hector looked towards Duncan. This was the part where he could usually be expected to step in with some sort of asinine comment.
"Next Monday, we shall begin Intermediate Combat. Rather than your individual fighting ability, we'll be focusing on your ability to work as a group."
"Um, Coach Achala?" Jenny's hand shot up.
He nodded towards her.
"Is there anything we should be doing to get ready? Practicing with our team mates over the weekend or something?"
Trust Jenny to ask what everyone was thinking. Wait, what? Hector looked up from the crossword puzzle he'd been working with his mother. Hector shook his heads, returning his focus to the matter at hand.
"No Jenny. Your groups, as well as the exercises you'll be running through, will change on a regular basis. I've simply found that my students prefer to hear that they won't be continuing the solo exercises as soon as possible."
After that short announcement, the trainees began filtering out. Both Hectors there watched with amusement as a pair of Strong types, Rich and Steph he thought, began chasing Don. They were trying to get the orb away from him but didn't seem to be willing to just cripple him and take it. Or, at least, they hadn't tried to yet. Donald Dust was able to keep them away by using clouds of his Dust to fend them off.
"Back off, freak!"
Hector turned, horrified, as he heard Jenny's voice.
She slapped Jason.
"Oh fuck." both Hectors said. They broke into a run, desperate to intervene before the dangerous young man responded.
"I...I apologize. I should have remembered." Jason said.
The words sounded safe enough, but Hector went cold. They hadn't had his usual distant courtesy; their tone was completely monotone.
Hector didn't pay attention to what she said back, just wedged himself between the two. He split off more hims, generating a half dozen extra bodies. They encircled Jason and began urging him away from the crowd. He left one of himself behind, who quickly multiplied, to keep the others from following.
"What happened Jason?" he asked, once he had his friend out of the room. "I thought you said you two were getting along?"
"Yes..." Jason hesitated, "I should have remembered."
His voice was still monotone, but his face...
"She warned me not speak to her around the others."
Was that grief? Oh God, had Jason actually fallen for her that quick?
"She had a good time with you but didn't want her friends to know? I thought she was better than that. There must've been some sort of misunderstanding or-"
In a flash, Jason went from miserable to cold rage.
"Be quiet, Hector. Jenny is not at fault. If you say another word against her I promise that you will regret it." His face was contorted with rage but his voice, it was still so flat...
"I'm sorry, Jason. I... I didn't mean to..."
"Leave it. I will speak to Jenny at a later time."
"Are you sure-" Jason gave him a look, Hector remembered what he'd seen when he'd taken off his glasses. "Sorry. Whatever you say."
* * *
CHAPTER 10: MONSTER
* * *
Mr. Soon finished making the ham and cheese sandwich, wrapped it up and handed it to his landlord. The arrogant man accepted it, smiling hugely, and made inappropriate jokes of a sexual nature. Mr. Soon nodded along, pretending to be amused or shocked as the man seemed to prefer.
"Babo neun yeojeonhi yeogiiss-eo?" his wife called from the back room of their convenience store.
"Is that Mrs. Soon?" asked the man in a three piece suit.
"Oh! Mr. Jack, why are you here?" his wife asked as she joined him at the register.
He chuckled before speaking, "I just had to get myself one of your husband's sandwiches." He hefted the item in question.
"We, we have your rent. Do you-"
"Mrs. Soon!" he interrupted, "I know you'll pay on time. And don't worry, even if you can't I'll be happy to make a trade with you." He wiggled his eyebrows while leering.
Mr. Soon was almost certain that the fool was only making another crude attempt at humor. Even so, he found his hand drifting to the bat he kept beneath the counter.
"I've told you before, I love these things" the landlord said, raising his sandw
ich again. "If I can get enough of them, what do I need with money?" He laughed again.
Mr. Soon's wife turned to him and asked, "Wae salam e waseo haeyahabnikka? Uliga meil-eul tonghae geuege don-eul jibul su issdamyeon deo joh-eul geos-ida."
"Yes, that would be very pleasant." he told his wife.
"What's that?"
"Oh, my wife simply said that she would like it if you visited more often." Mr. Soon lied.
"Well, I'm a busy man but I'll be in town for the next month. I’ll probably be in a lot. I love these sandwiches."
As he tried to make up a pleasant sounding response, Mr. Soon prayed that something, anything, would distract the tedious man. Over the next few years, he would regret that thought.
A motorcycle man walked in and stabbed his landlord. He fell to the ground without making a sound. The man in black picked up the sandwich that Mr. Soon had made and began unwrapping it.
His wife screamed. "Oh God! Jin- What did he-?" she stuttered in perfectly unaccented English.
"Don't move!" he cried.
The man began taking off his helmet. Mr. Soon closed his eyes and turned away, trying to make it obvious that he hadn't seen the man's face.
"Don't look! He- He won't hurt you if you don't look!"
Desperately, he hoped that she had understood, hoped that he was right.
Mr. Soon listened, trying to stay calm, restraining the urge to run or lash out with his bat, as Monster ate the sandwich. He heard the popping noise as a can, soda or beer, was opened and then hurriedly drunk. Over it all, he was aware of his wife's frightened sobbing.
"The camera!" he spoke as the thought occurred to him. "It- it does not record! I promise sir, no one will know you were here!"
He heard a rustling from the counter, next to his register, followed by wood clattering on wood. He kept his eyes closed. A short time later, he heard crashing coming from the back room.
"What... what is he doing?" his wife whispered.
Another crash.
Citadel (Book 1): Training in Necessity Page 19
