|
|
Post by Deleted on Jun 14, 2019 8:20:35 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rdwne"] [attr="class","rdwnetop"] [attr="class","rdwnetoplyric"] SKIN TO BONE, STEEL TO RUST.[break] +
YOUR DECEPTION, MY DISGUST. [attr="class","rdwnetop1"] [attr="class","rdwnetop2"] [attr="class","rdwnetop3"] [attr="class","rdwnepost"]
She spent a little too long staring blankly in the mirror without a thought in her head, damp hair and skin starting to get cold from just out of the shower. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with hotels. Hell, they were pretty normal. The Councillor had traveled more often than not and she tailed him everywhere all over Europe. Maybe it was just jet lag. Her eyes lowered briefly at her own reflection towards her left shoulder - the beginning and end of the limb - before exhaling through her nose and reaching over for the prosthetic hanging on the towel rack behind her. An embedded plug and socket made it latch in easily, but she still needed to give her arm a good roll and stretch before it felt right. Well, as right as it could.
[break][break]
Her dress was minimal, not inappropriate by any means but obviously casual for the highly business-oriented area she was going to. Jeans, sturdy boots, a basic clean tshirt, light long-sleeve windbreaker, and a slender, black nylon glove to cover the shine of metal on her left hand. It just raised less questions and gathered a lot less irritating stares. A small concealed carry slid behind her belt at the small of her back. One daily vitamin and pain pill later and she was headed out the door to the streets of New York. Being back in the States was still almost surreal. There was something both entirely wonderful and equally bitter about it; the last trip she'd made from overseas not exactly the happiest of times.
[break][break]
Keeping her mind busy by studying the awareness of her perimeters, Regas found the time surprisingly short via Uber to the fancy, glass business building with the address she'd been looking for in white letters on the front door. She didn't know what she was expecting from this meeting... but some habitual pessimism didn't have her keeping her hopes incredibly high. "Good morning! What can I help you with?" The secretary at the lengthy, front desk didn't seem at all out of the ordinary when greeting the Lieutenant - a little pleasant surprise to be treated like anyone else. There was no hesitation in the answer. "Lieutenant Regas here to see a Mr. Weaver." "I'll let him know you're here. Feel free to grab a coffee or a water while you wait," she smiled, sliding over a guest badge which she pinned to the front of her jacket. She'd stopped drinking coffee years ago, but took a bottle of water from the small cooler space in the waiting area before sitting down and looking about at the modern space. This wasn't her favorite element.[break][break]
[attr="class","rdwnebot"] [attr="class","rdwneimg"]  [attr="class","rdwnebot1"] [attr="class","rdwnebot2"] [attr="class","rdwnebot3"] 460 WORDS FOR Dominic Weaver PHARAOH LEAP CREATES [googlefont=Teko:300,400][googlefont=Inconsolata:400,700][googlefont=Roboto:400,700] [newclass=.rdwne]width:475px;background-color:#ffffff;color:#444444;letter-spacing:0px;text-align:justify;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop]background-color:#999999;height:104px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric]text-transform:uppercase;white-space:nowrap;text-align:right;background-color:#444444;font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;padding-bottom:5px;color:#ffffff;padding:25px;padding-left:20px;float:right;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric b]font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div]font:bold 8px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;height:8px;padding:5px 7px;background-color:#393939;float:right;letter-spacing:.5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div b]font:bold 6px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;padding-right:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop1]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #444444;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop2]height:104px;width:5px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-right:-30px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop3]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #ffffff;margin-right:-25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost]border-left:solid 1px #eeeeee;border-right:solid 1px #eeeeee;padding:45px;font:10px Verdana;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost b]font:bold 11px Roboto;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost i]font:11px Roboto;font-style:italic;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot]background-color:#444444;padding:22px 25px 28px 25px;text-align:left;font:20px Teko;line-height:20px;height:20px;color:#999999;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot b, .rdwnebot a]font:20px Teko!important;line-height:20px;color:#ffffff!important;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg]height:70px;width:150px;float:right;margin:-22px -25px -28px -25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg img]height:70px;width:150px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot1]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot2]width:5px;height:70px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot3]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #444444;margin:-22px -20px 0px 0px;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] |
|
"I wanna feel that power surge."
ALIAS
Surge
CLASSIFICATION
Blaster
POWER
Electrokinesis
AGE
29
Civilian
|
Post by Dominic Weaver on Jun 15, 2019 8:29:47 GMT
Surge The best part of “believe” is the “lie”. | The line beeped and Dominic reached out to hit the button without looking. There were always people coming in and out of his office, and looking up to respond to the secretary's call would have wasted valuable time. Gregory's voice came from the speakerphone.
"Mr Weaver, Lieutenant Regas is here to see you."
That made Dominic look up. He had been expecting her, after all, he had invited her here. The moment her file had crossed his desk he had been interested. Like Aaron she was a metahuman with military training, and they seemed to be rare enough that they should be hoarded. Also like Aaron, something about her file seemed… odd. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something to Lieutenant Isabelle Regas that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It made him think of Harry, the man he'd met before the Event. Maybe he was just being paranoid, and the people he had asked the advice of had dismissed it as such, but Dominic couldn't help but wonder if she had a connection to the Families.
"Send her in Gregory."
He finished what he was doing and stood as she entered, walking around his desk and extending a hand to meet hers.
"It's good to meet you Lieutenant Regas. And I'm sure it's cliched but thank you for your service."
He gestured to one of the chairs before his desk. Then returned to his own seat, opening a draw and slapping a paper file onto the desk. It was immediately recognisable as an American Military Personnel file, and Isabelle would be able to see her name printed on the front cover. The only reason Dominic had been able to access was his Federal clearance, and even then, there were large sections that had been redacted for him. His clearance wasn't that good. Still, he wanted to make a show of being open, and he said so.
"I'm making a show of being open because you probably already knew I had this. That and the last ex-military metahuman I met was an extremely scary individual, I'm sure you're not far behind him, if at all."
He pushed the file towards her over the table. "I haven't seen everything, I'm not really important or trusted enough for that, but I've seen enough to know that I want you."
| © seadra of gs |
|
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Jun 15, 2019 9:11:06 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rdwne"] [attr="class","rdwnetop"] [attr="class","rdwnetoplyric"] SKIN TO BONE, STEEL TO RUST.[break] +
YOUR DECEPTION, MY DISGUST. [attr="class","rdwnetop1"] [attr="class","rdwnetop2"] [attr="class","rdwnetop3"] [attr="class","rdwnepost"]
Well that didn't take long. She'd barely taken a single swig and her first look-around at the perimeter before the secretary had stood up and showed her to the hall with the office at the end. What she saw was about what she expected; a man clearly cut for business behind a busy, powerful desk. The moment she entered she took note of the window and its frame if only for a half-second before looking to him again and retreating her hand from her jacket pocket to accept the shake. Her grip was firm, strong, professional. What you'd expect of a soldier. There was that "thank you" again... "Sure." She'd have to get used to that, she supposed. "Mr. Weaver," she nodded, "It's fine, thanks."
[break][break]
The lack of formalities in the civilian world she showed were obvious; at least being back in the States, if not just seeming out-of-place with where she was. Being offered to sit helped. Gladly, she took the seat at the other side of the desk and let her right arm rest comfortably on the arm rest while her left still lied in her pocket. So far he was just as stereotypical as most businessmen. Well, until he straight-up just slapped her file between them on his desk. Her eyebrows furrowed at it momentarily as she tried to piece together his reasoning. Then she didn't need to; he lied that out bare too. "I'm making a show of being open because you probably already knew I had this." "That's different," she admitted, blinking once in admittance. Of course he had it. Most Reserve or Off-Duty personnel knew that anyone higher in business had clearance. Which meant access to information. Yet, they still tried to hide it to feign some sort of "upper hand". They weren't fooling anyone.[break][break]
"That and the last ex-military metahuman I met was an extremely scary individual, I'm sure you're not far behind him, if at all."
Well that didn't take much. She remained quiet, though openly surprised and intrigued in the speech she waited for him to finish. Regas leaned forward and accepted the file that he slid closer, taking her gloved hand out to open it, set it in her lap, and look it over. Plenty was redacted; mainly mentions of important names in Axin, her recruitment specifically due to previously known abilities, and plenty of information on the British Councillor. Everything else; her tours, her honors, her final debriefing on the mission in Syria... That was all there.
[break][break]
"I haven't seen everything, I'm not really important or trusted enough for that, but I've seen enough to know that I want you." The Lieutenant looked up over the edge of the file, eventually shutting it and tossing it lightly back to the desk. If only out of respect for her former Commanding Officer, the Captain, she prevented herself from the half-dozen dry responses to the man's cliche, vague offer. She didn't know what this all entailed, what she was particularly here for. To get her "back in the game", he'd said, and apparently this Mr. Weaver was her man. Time to find out. "And exactly what do you want me for? I've got to tell you, I'm not real interested in off-hand mercenary work."
[attr="class","rdwnebot"] [attr="class","rdwneimg"] [attr="class","rdwnebot1"] [attr="class","rdwnebot2"] [attr="class","rdwnebot3"] 540 WORDS FOR Dominic Weaver PHARAOH LEAP CREATES [googlefont=Teko:300,400][googlefont=Inconsolata:400,700][googlefont=Roboto:400,700] [newclass=.rdwne]width:475px;background-color:#ffffff;color:#444444;letter-spacing:0px;text-align:justify;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop]background-color:#999999;height:104px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric]text-transform:uppercase;white-space:nowrap;text-align:right;background-color:#444444;font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;padding-bottom:5px;color:#ffffff;padding:25px;padding-left:20px;float:right;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric b]font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div]font:bold 8px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;height:8px;padding:5px 7px;background-color:#393939;float:right;letter-spacing:.5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div b]font:bold 6px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;padding-right:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop1]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #444444;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop2]height:104px;width:5px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-right:-30px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop3]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #ffffff;margin-right:-25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost]border-left:solid 1px #eeeeee;border-right:solid 1px #eeeeee;padding:45px;font:10px Verdana;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost b]font:bold 11px Roboto;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost i]font:11px Roboto;font-style:italic;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot]background-color:#444444;padding:22px 25px 28px 25px;text-align:left;font:20px Teko;line-height:20px;height:20px;color:#999999;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot b, .rdwnebot a]font:20px Teko!important;line-height:20px;color:#ffffff!important;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg]height:70px;width:150px;float:right;margin:-22px -25px -28px -25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg img]height:70px;width:150px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot1]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot2]width:5px;height:70px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot3]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #444444;margin:-22px -20px 0px 0px;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] |
|
"I wanna feel that power surge."
ALIAS
Surge
CLASSIFICATION
Blaster
POWER
Electrokinesis
AGE
29
Civilian
|
Jun 18, 2019 19:02:30 GMT
Post by Dominic Weaver on Jun 18, 2019 19:02:30 GMT
Surge The best part of “believe” is the “lie”. | Dominic smiled in genuine amusement. "That's good, because I'm not real interested in mercenaries."
It seemed the woman sat before him didn't really know who he was, which made a refreshing change. He wasn't exactly the face of the Program, that was Paladin, but anyone in the know or with a little bit of research would know who he was. Presumably she at least knew what the Program was, that is, if she hadn't been living under a rock for the last year.
"I represent the Hero Program, primarily I run PR, publicity, advertising campaigns, that sort of thing."
There was no need to go into the details behind the Program, the fact that he had taken the original concept to the Government months before anyone had even realised the true scale of the Event. He did a lot of different jobs at the Program, many of them beyond his actual title and official roles, and one of them included headhunting staff for various different roles. Apparently he was approachable, and he knew he was good at getting people on side.
This woman, he hoped, would be no different, but he certainly didn't want to deceive her with what he was offering. There was altogether too much deception in his life, he did not want to add to it unnecessarily. It was best if he kept this meeting as open as possible, besides, he rather thought she'd appreciate the honesty.
"One of your previous CO's put me onto you. I'm the kind of man that cultivates friends everywhere, and, for now at least, he seems to be one of them. He said you'd be just what we were looking for."
He tapped his fingers on the glass desk, then leaned forwards suddenly. "This Program is living on borrowed time Lieutenant, I have several hundred dedicated men and women out there, risking their lives every day to fight situations man was never meant to deal with."
He grimaced, "They're brave, and they're powerful, but… they're not trained. Not properly. Sure we do what we can, but metahumans are a new phenomenon." He placed a different stress on the word new, trying to gauge her reaction. Though even if what he suspected was true, likely she would never give it away. "There's only so much we can do, and we need someone that has a lifetime of experience, and is now living with abilities. I think you're the right choice."
| © seadra of gs |
|
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Jun 28, 2019 7:58:42 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rdwne"] [attr="class","rdwnetop"] [attr="class","rdwnetoplyric"] SKIN TO BONE, STEEL TO RUST.[break] +
YOUR DECEPTION, MY DISGUST. [attr="class","rdwnetop1"] [attr="class","rdwnetop2"] [attr="class","rdwnetop3"] [attr="class","rdwnepost"]
Not interested in a mercenary? The Lieutenant's eyebrows pulled closer together and her lips pursed, not quite expecting that answer. That was also new. Who wasn't looking for mercenaries these days? Every government and every major war-profiteering company had their hands all over in that pot. "I represent the Hero Program," Oh God. Her expression went from realization, disappointment, and then somewhere between annoyed and amused. "Primarily I run PR, publicity, advertising campaigns, that sort of thing."
"Yeah, I've seen the commercials," she pointed out dryly.
[break][break]
With a quiet sigh, she adjusted herself in the cushioned seat and folded one of her legs up to prop her ankle on top of the other knee. All she could think of was their cover girl in her purple jumpsuit and the Barbie of the east coast. They ran recruitment ads like a deleted scene off of that animated kids movie Monsters Inc. The "join us, do greatness" type of cheesy promise. Except this was different. These were real abilities with real danger, not just toy guns or special effects. Seeing it in the media advertised so openly made her cringe.
[break][break]
"One of your previous CO's put me onto you." "So he says," and she was already starting to regret it. "He said you'd be just what we were looking for." A small scoff left her, but she kept it quiet enough in her attempts at being mostly respectful. The next bit of words he decided to use sounded so familiar she might as well have put an 'Army Strong' banner behind him. Men and women out their risking their lives. It wasn't a new concept, but he was definitely green to it. Throw metahuman abilities into the mix and you had one hell of a new type of bad-breed tragedy. Now he was dipping his toes into waters that she didn't think he knew the full extent of. This was the wrong tree to bark up.
[break][break]
"They're brave, and they're powerful, but… they're not trained. Not properly. Sure we do what we can, but metahumans are a new phenomenon." The Lieutenant grimaced minorly and looked off to the side out of the window in the office. Abilities were a secret that was best kept hidden. "There's only so much we can do, and we need someone that has a lifetime of experience, and is now living with abilities. I think you're the right choice." With the world the way it is, the amount of untamed, undocumented, and unregulated power was just a bomb ready to blow in the wrong hands. Dictators, terrorism... but there was something he was missing.
[break][break]
"A lifetime of experience?" she looked back over to him in skeptic disbelief, chin backing up closer to her neck as she wondered if he knew exactly what he was saying. "As a soldier. In a war. A real war. Heroes aren't trained because you're not recruiting military, you're recruiting anyone and everyone wanting to use their Hollywood superpowers in the public eye. These aren't soldiers, they're celebrities," her expression was hard - not offended, but certainly not pleased - and it dared him openly to show her differently.
[attr="class","rdwnebot"] [attr="class","rdwneimg"] [attr="class","rdwnebot1"] [attr="class","rdwnebot2"] [attr="class","rdwnebot3"] 630 WORDS FOR Dominic Weaver PHARAOH LEAP CREATES [googlefont=Teko:300,400][googlefont=Inconsolata:400,700][googlefont=Roboto:400,700] [newclass=.rdwne]width:475px;background-color:#ffffff;color:#444444;letter-spacing:0px;text-align:justify;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop]background-color:#999999;height:104px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric]text-transform:uppercase;white-space:nowrap;text-align:right;background-color:#444444;font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;padding-bottom:5px;color:#ffffff;padding:25px;padding-left:20px;float:right;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric b]font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div]font:bold 8px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;height:8px;padding:5px 7px;background-color:#393939;float:right;letter-spacing:.5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div b]font:bold 6px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;padding-right:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop1]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #444444;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop2]height:104px;width:5px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-right:-30px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop3]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #ffffff;margin-right:-25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost]border-left:solid 1px #eeeeee;border-right:solid 1px #eeeeee;padding:45px;font:10px Verdana;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost b]font:bold 11px Roboto;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost i]font:11px Roboto;font-style:italic;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot]background-color:#444444;padding:22px 25px 28px 25px;text-align:left;font:20px Teko;line-height:20px;height:20px;color:#999999;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot b, .rdwnebot a]font:20px Teko!important;line-height:20px;color:#ffffff!important;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg]height:70px;width:150px;float:right;margin:-22px -25px -28px -25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg img]height:70px;width:150px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot1]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot2]width:5px;height:70px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot3]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #444444;margin:-22px -20px 0px 0px;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] |
|
"I wanna feel that power surge."
ALIAS
Surge
CLASSIFICATION
Blaster
POWER
Electrokinesis
AGE
29
Civilian
|
Jun 29, 2019 12:59:52 GMT
Post by Dominic Weaver on Jun 29, 2019 12:59:52 GMT
Surge The best part of “believe” is the “lie”. | The brief flash of emotions that crossed the Lieutenant's face told him a lot. She both hadn't expected that information, and wasn't exactly thrilled by it either. It wasn't an unexpected reaction, the Program was well known, and there were billboards and commercials for it everywhere. Unfortunately it had resulted in the recruitment of several individuals that perhaps weren't best suited for the role. Technically all he did was PR, but he had influence in the Program thanks to his position as it's father figure. He was now trying to undo some of the damage done by the early, lax, recruitment procedures.
Her attitude towards him was not improving unfortunately, if anything it was growing worse. It wasn't the first time he had experienced such a reaction. He was relatively young, in business and had never served in the military. For some reason that last point seemed to earn him a noticeable drop in respect from military metas, like it was some exclusive club, which he supposed it was.
Eventually he got a reaction that he could do something about. Her disbelief was expected. After all, since he'd mentioned the Program her attitude had been nothing but dismissive. Clearly this was not going to be an easy sell, but then she hadn't come looking for him, he had gone looking for her, and if she was what he thought she was, joining the Program would not come easy to her. If she was what he thought she was, then having her on board could make a big difference.
"You're right, they're not soldiers."
They weren't, and they likely never would be. Alice was the most dedicated person he knew, along with being one of the most powerful metahumans in the Program. But for every Alice Morrow, there was a Sunny Slater. An individual blessed by genetics with almost godlike power, and no interest in using it save for personal gain.
"They'll never be soldiers, they're not here to fight wars or defend liberty and democracy. They haven't signed up to go overseas."
He shook his head, "But we do need them."
This was the make or break moment, "When an unknown terrorist organisation launched attacks across the country, it was the Heroes who prevented further lives being lost. Now that gangs have access to super-powered muscle, it is the Heroes who stop them from getting out of hand."
"You say they're not soldiers, they're not fighting in a real war…"
He leaned forward towards her over the table. "So help me make them better."
| © seadra of gs |
|
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Jul 11, 2019 6:51:32 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rdwne"] [attr="class","rdwnetop"] [attr="class","rdwnetoplyric"] SKIN TO BONE, STEEL TO RUST.[break] +
YOUR DECEPTION, MY DISGUST. [attr="class","rdwnetop1"] [attr="class","rdwnetop2"] [attr="class","rdwnetop3"] [attr="class","rdwnepost"]
Here it was, the classic salesman pitch coming from the head salesman himself. A deep breath of self-composure had her head turning to look out of the window, still listening but very clearly digging her claws firmly into where her position was rather than be moved so easily by some practiced recruitment speech. There was some length where she spent her time chewing on the inside of her cheek rather than responding with half the things that immediately came to mind. Most weren't great. While this Mr. Weaver wasn't any form of ally or overseeing authority, he was a connection to a former CO - a good patriot, a strong soldier and an even stronger leader - and she had too much respect for him to stain it. Even if that meant sitting through this painful, pointless meeting.
[break][break]
"But we do need them." Her eyes snapped sharply back over to him, head only slowly following after. She swore, for a split second, he'd turned into Captain Killian himself. The way he said it, the conviction. No wonder they got along. Killian always had a way of pulling her strings, convincing her, mostly clearing her head. He was the one that convinced her to ship back for the funeral when she was hard-set on remaining at her post. 'I get it, LT. Goodbye's suck. But we do need them.' Dominic's select choice of wording after the mention of the person who's ironic connection the wording had given her made her listen perhaps a little more closely to what he had to say next.
[break][break]
"So help me make them better." There was that tone again. She couldn't help but huff out a somewhat-humored breath of disbelief through her nose. Though it was incredibly hard to admit, he'd gotten her attention. Somewhat letting her posture relax in the seat across from him, she let her arms drape over either armrest and she switched her crossed legs. There was a moment she took a for a deep breath before answering. "Let me recap. You want to hire someone to drill citizens with metahuman abilities - who are untrained and uneducated in anything regarding combat - as a domestic defense force?" Her head cocked forward slightly, "And Killian recommended me?"
[attr="class","rdwnebot"] [attr="class","rdwneimg"] [attr="class","rdwnebot1"] [attr="class","rdwnebot2"] [attr="class","rdwnebot3"] 480 WORDS FOR Dominic Weaver PHARAOH LEAP CREATES [googlefont=Teko:300,400][googlefont=Inconsolata:400,700][googlefont=Roboto:400,700] [newclass=.rdwne]width:475px;background-color:#ffffff;color:#444444;letter-spacing:0px;text-align:justify;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop]background-color:#999999;height:104px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric]text-transform:uppercase;white-space:nowrap;text-align:right;background-color:#444444;font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;padding-bottom:5px;color:#ffffff;padding:25px;padding-left:20px;float:right;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric b]font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div]font:bold 8px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;height:8px;padding:5px 7px;background-color:#393939;float:right;letter-spacing:.5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div b]font:bold 6px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;padding-right:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop1]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #444444;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop2]height:104px;width:5px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-right:-30px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop3]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #ffffff;margin-right:-25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost]border-left:solid 1px #eeeeee;border-right:solid 1px #eeeeee;padding:45px;font:10px Verdana;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost b]font:bold 11px Roboto;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost i]font:11px Roboto;font-style:italic;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot]background-color:#444444;padding:22px 25px 28px 25px;text-align:left;font:20px Teko;line-height:20px;height:20px;color:#999999;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot b, .rdwnebot a]font:20px Teko!important;line-height:20px;color:#ffffff!important;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg]height:70px;width:150px;float:right;margin:-22px -25px -28px -25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg img]height:70px;width:150px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot1]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot2]width:5px;height:70px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot3]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #444444;margin:-22px -20px 0px 0px;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] |
|
"I wanna feel that power surge."
ALIAS
Surge
CLASSIFICATION
Blaster
POWER
Electrokinesis
AGE
29
Civilian
|
Jul 12, 2019 13:45:06 GMT
Post by Dominic Weaver on Jul 12, 2019 13:45:06 GMT
Surge The best part of “believe” is the “lie”. | "No."
He waved a hand and sat back, looking away. "They’re not military, and if I have my way they never will be."
Shrugging, he looked back at her. "But they’re not properly trained. Most of them. They don't know how to deal with so many of the situations they're forced into. We have a training program, but it is too brief. When the Program was founded we desperately needed a solution. Now that solution has problems of its own."
Dominic stood up, he felt antsy if he stayed behind a desk too long, despite, or perhaps because of his business abilities. He'd never made any real money by being sat behind his desk, that wasn't how he'd made his company the success that it was now. It wasn't how he'd convinced the government to support the Hero Program either.
"I don't know you that well Lieutenant, but I like to consider Captain Morris a friend. I know it can be hard for people like you, coming back from what is, to people like me, probably a whole different world. Now I'm offering you a chance to do something that might help you with that."
He walked around the desk, "It's not going to be the same, and to be honest, you'll probably hate some of the people you'll end up working with."
He smiled the irresistible smile that had made him so much money. "But most of them are doing it for the right reasons, and they're good people. And… honestly, they could do with someone like you in their corner."
"The attacks were carried out by people that the public didn't know existed, metahumans that could go toe to toe with our Heroes. We need someone like you to give them an edge, to keep them from risking their lives too much…"
"I think you'd be pretty good at it."
| © seadra of gs |
|
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2019 9:56:51 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rdwne"] [attr="class","rdwnetop"] [attr="class","rdwnetoplyric"] SKIN TO BONE, STEEL TO RUST.[break] +
YOUR DECEPTION, MY DISGUST. [attr="class","rdwnetop1"] [attr="class","rdwnetop2"] [attr="class","rdwnetop3"] [attr="class","rdwnepost"]
She spent most of her time appearing as uninterested as possible by looking back out to the side window again as he spoke, stood, continued to explain and entice. If not mostly because what he said was all too perfect with what she needed to hear. The angle he took, the vocabulary he chose to carefully tiptoe along the subject of a soldier's return, the "different world". Killian's smug and unassuming face of feigned ignorance came to mind. You bastard, the mental sigh was all she could give it.He walked around the desk, causing her to finally roll her head over and make eye contact with him again. That smile was way too joyful and genuine. Thoughts of what the Colonel, her father, would have to say were already flooding her head. How low it was, how 'hollywood' it seemed. But what else was there? Mercenary work was all she could get that didn't care about hiring her with the shrapnel in her skull. That in itself was already rock bottom as far as armed warfare went; the lowest of the proverbial totem pole. Then there was non-active military positions, but Regas sure as hell wasn't going to sit behind a desk and recruit.
[break][break]
"The attacks were carried out by people that the public didn't know existed, metahumans that could go toe to toe with our Heroes. We need someone like you to give them an edge, to keep them from risking their lives too much…" Unfortunately for the both of them, he was right. She hadn't seen too many enemy metas on the field in the middle east, but she was sure Al'Qaeda had a decent few since the Event. There'd been one she fought in combat. The thought of someone like him being on the streets of her own homeland with that kind of power... well. The domestic threat, if anything, was greater than ever now. Who'd stop them, the National Guard? Fat chance. Great men and women, but they weren't the frontliners trained for large scale threats overseas. She also doubted the Families had positioned any of their forces in the Army Reserve. The thought of that made her eyes roll.
[break][break]
Her eyes had fallen to the desk's edge in front of her while she pondered. To her father, there'd be no glory or honor, but she'd already reached failure from her early retirement and release. Then the thought of this new threat, the way Mr. Weaver put a pin on the exact danger of it... it had something in her heart aching. A sense of duty. Wasn't it her responsibility, with the oaths she'd take, to guard the nation of all threats both foreign and domestic? Regardless of the military's discharge, that wasn't an oath that just went away. A retired doctor wouldn't blink an eye if someone needed help in an emergency health situation on the street. Oaths didn't die when you meant them. And maybe, just maybe, she'd feel-... less hollow again. Alive. "Tell Killian he's an asshole," she sighed through her nose, looking up to him with a conflicted tension. "But first, tell me what this 'hero training' looks like to you." Fine. She'd listen. It wouldn't hurt to hear his ideas, a loose outline of a program. Maybe if it wasn't a total waste, she'd comment on it.
[break][break]
[attr="class","rdwnebot"] [attr="class","rdwneimg"] [attr="class","rdwnebot1"] [attr="class","rdwnebot2"] [attr="class","rdwnebot3"] 550 WORDS FOR Dominic Weaver PHARAOH LEAP CREATES [googlefont=Teko:300,400][googlefont=Inconsolata:400,700][googlefont=Roboto:400,700] [newclass=.rdwne]width:475px;background-color:#ffffff;color:#444444;letter-spacing:0px;text-align:justify;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop]background-color:#999999;height:104px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric]text-transform:uppercase;white-space:nowrap;text-align:right;background-color:#444444;font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;padding-bottom:5px;color:#ffffff;padding:25px;padding-left:20px;float:right;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric b]font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div]font:bold 8px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;height:8px;padding:5px 7px;background-color:#393939;float:right;letter-spacing:.5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div b]font:bold 6px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;padding-right:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop1]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #444444;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop2]height:104px;width:5px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-right:-30px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop3]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #ffffff;margin-right:-25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost]border-left:solid 1px #eeeeee;border-right:solid 1px #eeeeee;padding:45px;font:10px Verdana;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost b]font:bold 11px Roboto;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost i]font:11px Roboto;font-style:italic;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot]background-color:#444444;padding:22px 25px 28px 25px;text-align:left;font:20px Teko;line-height:20px;height:20px;color:#999999;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot b, .rdwnebot a]font:20px Teko!important;line-height:20px;color:#ffffff!important;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg]height:70px;width:150px;float:right;margin:-22px -25px -28px -25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg img]height:70px;width:150px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot1]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot2]width:5px;height:70px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot3]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #444444;margin:-22px -20px 0px 0px;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] |
|
"I wanna feel that power surge."
ALIAS
Surge
CLASSIFICATION
Blaster
POWER
Electrokinesis
AGE
29
Civilian
|
Post by Dominic Weaver on Jul 26, 2019 9:03:46 GMT
Surge The best part of “believe” is the “lie”. | Regas was acting disinterested. It was probably an act that was more habit now than intention, she struck Dominic as the type. At least she seemed to be following his movements, politeness was there at least. This could have been harder, she could simply sit there and ignore her. She could simply stand up and walk out, but however disinterested she was pretending to be, ultimately she was still listening to him.
Eventually her eyes drifted away from him again, but this time it seemed that she was deep in thought rather than losing interest. That was a step in the right direction, and it told him that at the very least he had said something that was making her consider his offer. Either that or she had made her way to some conclusion on her own. Not that he minded as long as it was the conclusion he wanted, but he knew better than to interrupt now. It was better to allow her to come to her own conclusion.
Eventually she did, and he grinned at her words. "I already did."
He had, too. He liked Captain Trevor Killian, but the man had clearly been manipulating both of them when he'd suggested Dominic approach the Lieutenant. Dominic appreciated it nonetheless, the Program did need someone like Regas, this wasn't a favour to Killian, rather it was Killian's favour to Dom.
Now he just had to convince her that she'd made the right decision. "Well most of them already have a grounding in unarmed combat, but more training there couldn't hurt. They go through something similar to a Police Training Program, they're expected to have a basic level of fitness and an understanding of what to do in a crisis situation."
Dominic shrugged "Unfortunately sometimes my decisions get overruled and several recruits seem to have bypassed that training thanks to their abilities. We're struggling to tailor something to metahumans, that's the problem."
| © seadra of gs |
|
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 31, 2020 9:26:48 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rdwne"] [attr="class","rdwnetop"] [attr="class","rdwnetoplyric"] SKIN TO BONE, STEEL TO RUST.[break] +
YOUR DECEPTION, MY DISGUST. [attr="class","rdwnetop1"] [attr="class","rdwnetop2"] [attr="class","rdwnetop3"] [attr="class","rdwnepost"]
Crisis situation training and emergency response was all well and good, but it was so cornerstone that it should've been a given. The fact that it had to be said already left a bad taste in her mouth. Police officer training would be useful for the urban environment, except- "Except any situation that they'd handle like that should be left to the actual police. De-escalation. If you want a defense force, they're not here to de-escalate. I'm not saying that they can't," she shook her head and took a breath, putting both feet on the ground and leaning forward. Her hand removed from her pocket and her fingers interlaced - steel and flesh - as her forearms leaned on the tops of her knees. "But you're going to need a lot more than 'To Protect and Serve'. You'll need infiltration, stress testing - the mental stuff, command and response. Briefing, debriefing, a strategist program to train instinct on risks and tactical movement."
[break][break]
She was looking somewhat both ahead and down, thinking out loud as the ideas of problems and how to face them started clicking. "Maybe like SWAT? No," she scrunched her mouth and scratched the thought out with a visual disagreement on her expression. "Not SWAT. Not all of them are combat-inclined, I'm sure," she took a brief look up at him for confirmation. "Bypassing specific training isn't necessarily something to concern about until it becomes opting out of rules, regulations, and building blocks." Not unlike Basic Training. "Everyone has their area of expertise. You need specialized programs; not just one. Individual or grouped curriculum depending on the Super's criteria," a few nods had her lifting her true hand and tapping a few fingers loosely to her bottom lip.
[break][break]
"It wouldn't be impossible, assuming there's not hundreds of them. And I am assuming that," she noted, glancing up at him again with a quirked brow. "Response teams serve all sorts of purposes from disaster recovery and front-line defense to technological threats. But the first two are a good place to start," the Lieutenant sat back upright in the chair, a new militaristic correction to her posture. Habit for duty. A duty she was starting to relate to in the new depth of this conversation. There was a break of silence. Then she took her gaze towards her file on his desk before bringing it once again up to him. Her tone changed - negotiating. "I'm not agreeing to anything until I see the facilities and what you're working with now."
[break][break]
[attr="class","rdwnebot"] [attr="class","rdwneimg"] [attr="class","rdwnebot1"] [attr="class","rdwnebot2"] [attr="class","rdwnebot3"] 500 WORDS FOR Dominic Weaver PHARAOH LEAP CREATES [googlefont=Teko:300,400][googlefont=Inconsolata:400,700][googlefont=Roboto:400,700] [newclass=.rdwne]width:475px;background-color:#ffffff;color:#444444;letter-spacing:0px;text-align:justify;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop]background-color:#999999;height:104px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric]text-transform:uppercase;white-space:nowrap;text-align:right;background-color:#444444;font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;padding-bottom:5px;color:#ffffff;padding:25px;padding-left:20px;float:right;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric b]font:40px Teko;line-height:36px;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div]font:bold 8px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;height:8px;padding:5px 7px;background-color:#393939;float:right;letter-spacing:.5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetoplyric div b]font:bold 6px Inconsolata;line-height:8px;padding-right:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop1]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #444444;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop2]height:104px;width:5px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-right:-30px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnetop3]height:0px;width:0px;float:right;border-top:solid 52px transparent;border-bottom:solid 52px transparent;border-right:solid 30px #ffffff;margin-right:-25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost]border-left:solid 1px #eeeeee;border-right:solid 1px #eeeeee;padding:45px;font:10px Verdana;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost b]font:bold 11px Roboto;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnepost i]font:11px Roboto;font-style:italic;color:#999999;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot]background-color:#444444;padding:22px 25px 28px 25px;text-align:left;font:20px Teko;line-height:20px;height:20px;color:#999999;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot b, .rdwnebot a]font:20px Teko!important;line-height:20px;color:#ffffff!important;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg]height:70px;width:150px;float:right;margin:-22px -25px -28px -25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwneimg img]height:70px;width:150px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot1]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot2]width:5px;height:70px;float:right;background-color:#ffffff;margin-top:-22px;[/newclass] [newclass=.rdwnebot3]float:right;height:0px;width:0px;border-top:solid 35px transparent;border-bottom:solid 35px transparent;border-left:solid 20px #444444;margin:-22px -20px 0px 0px;position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass] |
|
"I wanna feel that power surge."
ALIAS
Surge
CLASSIFICATION
Blaster
POWER
Electrokinesis
AGE
29
Civilian
|
Post by Dominic Weaver on Feb 8, 2020 10:23:31 GMT
Surge The best part of “believe” is the “lie”. | It wasn't an agreement, but it was a start. The lieutenant didn't seem like the kind of person that would be easily convinced, but that he had gotten this far told him that he still had a chance. That meant that what came next would be the make or break of the deal. In business it was important to keep momentum, if you let people stop to think they might reconsider their decision, in this case he felt like rushing Regas would work against him rather than for him.
"I would expect nothing less Lieutenant."
He glanced at the screen opposite him on the desk, a calendar was displayed there. It was mostly full, different coloured blocks filling every day, starting early in the morning and clearly continuing well into each night. Even the weekends seemed to be spoken for. He scanned through it, then pressed a button on his phone. "Gregory?"
"Yes Mr Weaver?"
"Can we clear some space on Thursday or Friday? I'm going to take the Lieutenant to see the training facilities."
"Already done Mr Weaver. I've made some time on Thursday."
There was a hint of amusement in the PA's tone, as though he'd already known what would come of this meeting. Gregory always seemed to know. Why the man was content to remain as a PA Dom would never know, but he made sure to reimburse him generously for his skills. It would be a sorry day in his office when Gregory moved on to better things.
Dom turned back to Regas, "The facilities are out of the city, for obvious reasons, be at Pier 6 by 9:30."
The flight had been uneventful. The helicopter was a commercial model, the kind frequently used for government business. It was relatively small, comfortable in a bare minimum sort of way, and fast. It had taken them out of the city, continuing until the tightly pack urban conglomerate below turned into fields and roads. The view had eventually been marred by a set of decidedly uninteresting concrete buildings. There was still construction going on at one end of the site, dozens of men in hi-vis vests and hard hats clustering around another concrete block that was being raised.
Dominic had spoken into the headsets as the facility hove into view. "It's not much to look at from outside, but our researchers are very excited about the stuff that goes on inside. We've got another two as well, all built along the same lines."
The helicopter set down on a landing pad about two hundred feet away from what seemed like the dominant building. This one was bigger, and had more windows, clearly it was some sort of administrative centre. Dom didn't wait for the blades to stop rotating, leaping out his door and moving around the helicopter, squinting against the dust whipped up by the artificial wind.
He moved towards the building with long-legged strides, easily eating up the short distance in the way that tall men do. No one came out to meet them, but that didn't give him pause, clearly he knew his way around here. He paused at the door, pulling it open and gesturing that Regas should proceed inside. There was something of a reception in there, a wide desk that looked like it had been built to withstand armour piercing missiles, along with a few plant pots that had clearly been added as an afterthought. There were two women sat behind the desk, one glancing up and smiling as she recognised the man who had just entered. "Mr Weaver, and this must be Lieutenant Regas."
It was a statement rather than a question, the reason for that particular behaviour revealed once the woman slid a plastic keycard across the desk. The little magnetic card had a clip attached on one side, and an image of Regas, clearly taken from her official file, had been printed on the front. "Your guest pass lieutenant."
The woman didn't offer any gratitude for Regas' service, but sported the kind of upright posture that Regas had demonstrated in the chair in Dom's office only a few days ago. While Regas clipped on her own pass, Dom produced one of his own from his pocket, clipping it onto the front of his suit.
The tour took quite a while, even with skipping several buildings. There were multiple large gymnasiums, and there was little point seeing all of them when they were all modelled in the same way. Instead they saw one with a current training session going on. As they watched one of recruits staggered away from the group and heaved his guts up, no sooner had he done that than the young man made his way back to the shuttle runs. "They work them hard here, only two Heroes have graduated from this facility so far, but already they're showing definite improvement over several of our earlier Heroes."
He clearly avoided saying all earlier Heroes. There were very clear differences in standards amongst the first few waves of Heroes. One could tell the Heroes that Dominic had represented personally, to those that had been brought in by others. But then Dom had gone toe to toe with a truly terrifying metahuman. He knew just how powerless one could be in the face of a god. He chose people who understood that.
They continued into another building. This one was more specialised. There was a muffled boom as the entered through the door, and he guided Regas up a set of stairs to an observation room. The glass here was thick, blast proof, and overlooking a room with a young woman in it. There was a steel wall in the centre of the room, it had been divided in half, ruptured from some apparently immense pressure. Dominic nodded. "I have high hopes for this one, she's on a whole other level compared to most metahumans. I don't understand most of it but the guys in the labs tell me she's some sort of universal constant. Like an unstoppable object." He reached to the side and tapped a small touch screen placed beside the window. The TV above the observation port flickered to life and replayed what had apparently just happened in the room. The woman had walked slowly towards the steel wall, then just kept going. The steel had slowly bent and deformed, groaning under the immense pressure until it had ruptured with the immense boom they had heard earlier.
The next training space was different again. This one was clearly an observation room for the cordoned off area next to it. The walls were filled with screens, each displaying a different camera feed. There were several men and women there watching the screens intently. Two or three were wearing lab coats, while the rest were in a mixture of matched training clothes and some kind of uniform. One or two glanced over, nodding at Dom and Regas as they entered, then turned their attention back to the screen. The rest ignored them.
Each video feed displayed what looked like parts of a city. The cordoned off area was a facsimile of a small city. Rooms were clearly unfinished, mostly bare concrete squares with a smattering of furniture, but the roads and alleyways were littered with cars. There no pedestrians, though a counter on another screen displayed what appeared to be a simulation of potential population.
There was some sort of combat going on within the city. A bright beam of white light cut through one of the screens, whiting out the camera feed for a moment, before the software compensated. The individual responsible for it strode into view a second later, a red band on both arms. There was a blur, and suddenly the young woman was down, one arm clearly broken. A man stood above her, panting, the clothes he was wearing clearly singed and smoking, though blue bands were clearly visible on both of his arms. A siren sounded, clearly signalling the end of the exercise. Further inspection of the people around the room they were in would reveal that most look tired, with one or two wearing ripped or damaged clothing. They watched the screens a moment longer as the speedster helped the woman up, then disappeared in a blur once more, taking both of them out of view.
"We have a healer on site, for training situations like this. Things can get… realistic."
Dom turned back to Regas. "So... What do you think? Still interested?"
| © seadra of gs |
|
|
