Post by Maelstrom on May 23, 2014 22:07:28 GMT -6
Jonathan threw out his open palm toward the training dummies yet again. He tried to focus on creating an pinpoint convergence of gravitational fields at its center. "Think heavy," the Cerberus trainer had told him, for the good it did. They wanted him to create a singularity. The most he managed was making them wobble in place a couple times.
Despite every test that was ever performed on him confirming that he would never have any significant biotic potential, his captors were insistent that he could be not only significant but extremely powerful. They claimed that the surgery they gave him shortly after arriving at the station was the cause. He knew better. As usual, their anesthesia was ineffective. They made a few incisions and doped him up well to make him feel like they had done work, but it was just an act. The real surgery was done weeks ago, when they were trying to brainwash him.
He gritted his teeth, as he tried to let emotion flow through him, as the instructors suggested. There was no telling what they might choose to do to him if he failed to meet or exceed their expectations. The trip to this new base was an eye-opening experience for him. When he first accepted the offer from Commander Rand, he thought he would easily be able to make his mistake in short order. Maybe even hijack a shuttle if he was moved.
Then he found himself quickly ushered into a cruiser under Cerberus control. They did their best to keep him away from anywhere that he could truly analyze key systems, but during his cursory tour, another measure meant to make him feel "part of the team," he was able to glean enough to realize it would take two Alliance cruisers to take the ship in a straight-up firefight. The barriers were stronger. The weapons state-of-the-art. Its engines more powerful and maneuverable. All that on top of having a highly-advanced stealth system. Any organization which could amass the resources for such a vessel would be truly fearsome to contend with. Even if he escaped, he expected he would never truly be free.
There was another frightening implication to the vessel, though. A single cruiser was virtually useless in any practical sense. Cruisers were employed by organizations with boarders to patrol, as a more self-sufficient alternative to frigates and a cheaper one to dreadnoughts. Or by groups amassing the means for mounting an assault. In either case, they were part of a fleet.
He tried to bring his thoughts back to the task at hand. As every other time, the dummies leaned in towards the point he was trying to create a singularity at, before their own weight brought them back to a resting position. It was another failure.
The instructor sighed. "Again."
"Bullshit!" Maelstrom said, storming across the training area to where Commander Rand was watching his team.
There were three other men training in the large, well-equipped room.
One was Jace Marco, a young man, barely an adult, who spent most of his life on Omega. He was a small thing, but he was uncanny with his shotgun and with hacking technological systems. When the group had lunch together, a daily part of their training routine, he claimed to have taken a job working for Cerberus because it was the only way for him to escape the slums and make something of himself. He was running "The Gauntlet," a holographic simulation run by an advanced AI which adapted to each team member's individual strengths and weaknesses and offer a challenge. Marco was having to weave between half a dozen mechs, his omni-tool only sufficient to hack one. He was only halfway through. For any of them to get much further than that was rare.
Then there was Caleb White, another raw recruit claiming to have come from Eden Prime. He was turned down for service in the Alliance because of a rare blood condition transmitted by a biting insect native to the human colony. Cerberus, however, was more than happy to accept the man, who spent much of his youth hunting in the countryside. The organization even offered him a rare experimental treatment. With their help, he was becoming a remarkable sniper.
The final member of the team, aside from the Commander himself, was their demolitions expert, Thomas Armstrong. Though Jonathan did not like being around any of them, having to feign friendship and loyalty to people from the organization that killed his true friends, he did appreciate the explosions that accompanied his training. He did most of his work in a reinforced section of the room, sealed off from the rest by transparent material.
Commander Rand rarely did any training himself, though, when he did, his skill with a blade and with his two M-25 Hornets was immediately evident. Most of his time was spent watching or giving advice to the members of his team. Jonathan was the least-frequent "beneficiary" of his advice, the senior Cerberus agent not being a biotic.
At that moment, though, Rand's attention was set on Jonathan.
"This trainer is useless," Jonathan growled, storming past the dummies and gesturing back at his instructor. "He's tried teaching me to be a sentinel. A vanguard. Even a damned adept. None of his idiotic mantras or exercises have done a damned thing for me."
There was shock on the commander's face. This was the first time Jonathan had lost his cool over anything. The first time the commander got a chance to see his real emotions. Jonathan chastised himself, knowing he let his facade of a loyal, calm, and controlled soldier break.
"I'll take it up with our superiors," Rand said. "For now, keep trying."
Jonathan did not care about keeping control anymore. About keeping up pretenses. He stormed back to the dummy and launched a punch for its head as hard as he could. As his combat instructors had taught, he did not aim his punch for the target. Rather, he punched through it. He imagined his strike going all the way into the useless biotic teacher's skull.
The composite material which made up the neck of the dummy shattered. The metal globe of a head went flying at incredible speeds. Ten yards. Twenty. All the way into the head of the instructor. The blow was too quick and too intense for the instructor to let out anything more than a pained grunt, as he collapsed unconscious to the floor. Blood flowed from an open wound on his head.
Looking down, Jonathan found a blue aura fading from his fist. He stood there in shock- whether it was from injuring the man in anger or unleashing the power inside himself, he was unsure.
All eyes except Armstrong's, who was tending the man's wound as best he could, were on him.
"Emergency medical team to the training room!" he heard Rand call over the comms. A moment later he felt the weight of the commander's hand on his shoulder. "Looks like he finally got through to you... just, not what we expected."
Despite every test that was ever performed on him confirming that he would never have any significant biotic potential, his captors were insistent that he could be not only significant but extremely powerful. They claimed that the surgery they gave him shortly after arriving at the station was the cause. He knew better. As usual, their anesthesia was ineffective. They made a few incisions and doped him up well to make him feel like they had done work, but it was just an act. The real surgery was done weeks ago, when they were trying to brainwash him.
He gritted his teeth, as he tried to let emotion flow through him, as the instructors suggested. There was no telling what they might choose to do to him if he failed to meet or exceed their expectations. The trip to this new base was an eye-opening experience for him. When he first accepted the offer from Commander Rand, he thought he would easily be able to make his mistake in short order. Maybe even hijack a shuttle if he was moved.
Then he found himself quickly ushered into a cruiser under Cerberus control. They did their best to keep him away from anywhere that he could truly analyze key systems, but during his cursory tour, another measure meant to make him feel "part of the team," he was able to glean enough to realize it would take two Alliance cruisers to take the ship in a straight-up firefight. The barriers were stronger. The weapons state-of-the-art. Its engines more powerful and maneuverable. All that on top of having a highly-advanced stealth system. Any organization which could amass the resources for such a vessel would be truly fearsome to contend with. Even if he escaped, he expected he would never truly be free.
There was another frightening implication to the vessel, though. A single cruiser was virtually useless in any practical sense. Cruisers were employed by organizations with boarders to patrol, as a more self-sufficient alternative to frigates and a cheaper one to dreadnoughts. Or by groups amassing the means for mounting an assault. In either case, they were part of a fleet.
He tried to bring his thoughts back to the task at hand. As every other time, the dummies leaned in towards the point he was trying to create a singularity at, before their own weight brought them back to a resting position. It was another failure.
The instructor sighed. "Again."
"Bullshit!" Maelstrom said, storming across the training area to where Commander Rand was watching his team.
There were three other men training in the large, well-equipped room.
One was Jace Marco, a young man, barely an adult, who spent most of his life on Omega. He was a small thing, but he was uncanny with his shotgun and with hacking technological systems. When the group had lunch together, a daily part of their training routine, he claimed to have taken a job working for Cerberus because it was the only way for him to escape the slums and make something of himself. He was running "The Gauntlet," a holographic simulation run by an advanced AI which adapted to each team member's individual strengths and weaknesses and offer a challenge. Marco was having to weave between half a dozen mechs, his omni-tool only sufficient to hack one. He was only halfway through. For any of them to get much further than that was rare.
Then there was Caleb White, another raw recruit claiming to have come from Eden Prime. He was turned down for service in the Alliance because of a rare blood condition transmitted by a biting insect native to the human colony. Cerberus, however, was more than happy to accept the man, who spent much of his youth hunting in the countryside. The organization even offered him a rare experimental treatment. With their help, he was becoming a remarkable sniper.
The final member of the team, aside from the Commander himself, was their demolitions expert, Thomas Armstrong. Though Jonathan did not like being around any of them, having to feign friendship and loyalty to people from the organization that killed his true friends, he did appreciate the explosions that accompanied his training. He did most of his work in a reinforced section of the room, sealed off from the rest by transparent material.
Commander Rand rarely did any training himself, though, when he did, his skill with a blade and with his two M-25 Hornets was immediately evident. Most of his time was spent watching or giving advice to the members of his team. Jonathan was the least-frequent "beneficiary" of his advice, the senior Cerberus agent not being a biotic.
At that moment, though, Rand's attention was set on Jonathan.
"This trainer is useless," Jonathan growled, storming past the dummies and gesturing back at his instructor. "He's tried teaching me to be a sentinel. A vanguard. Even a damned adept. None of his idiotic mantras or exercises have done a damned thing for me."
There was shock on the commander's face. This was the first time Jonathan had lost his cool over anything. The first time the commander got a chance to see his real emotions. Jonathan chastised himself, knowing he let his facade of a loyal, calm, and controlled soldier break.
"I'll take it up with our superiors," Rand said. "For now, keep trying."
Jonathan did not care about keeping control anymore. About keeping up pretenses. He stormed back to the dummy and launched a punch for its head as hard as he could. As his combat instructors had taught, he did not aim his punch for the target. Rather, he punched through it. He imagined his strike going all the way into the useless biotic teacher's skull.
The composite material which made up the neck of the dummy shattered. The metal globe of a head went flying at incredible speeds. Ten yards. Twenty. All the way into the head of the instructor. The blow was too quick and too intense for the instructor to let out anything more than a pained grunt, as he collapsed unconscious to the floor. Blood flowed from an open wound on his head.
Looking down, Jonathan found a blue aura fading from his fist. He stood there in shock- whether it was from injuring the man in anger or unleashing the power inside himself, he was unsure.
All eyes except Armstrong's, who was tending the man's wound as best he could, were on him.
"Emergency medical team to the training room!" he heard Rand call over the comms. A moment later he felt the weight of the commander's hand on his shoulder. "Looks like he finally got through to you... just, not what we expected."
#########
His first outburst was the turning point in his biotic training. Rather than continue trying to create singularities, execute biotic charges, or use stasis fields, he was letting his body and the movements of his muscles unleash his potential. At first, he just learned how to enhance his kicks and punches with biotic force. He then he realized that by coupling his thought process of punching through an item with the physical motion, he could mimic such strikes but at range. As the days went on, he even managed to muster more conventional biotic pushes, pulls, and lifts, though they still needed refinement. The best part was that he no longer had to put up with the insufferable trainer. After being treated, he was transferred to another base for the rest of his recovery.
With his greater ability came greater appreciation from the other members of his team. They conversed with him more at their daily lunches. Paid more attention to his runs through The Gauntlet, which were growing more and more successful.
He rolled his shoulders, as he stepped out of the mass of twisted metal which had been his training dummies. The first ones they used with him were standard martial arts dummies, made to take a physical blow. More recently, they were using crash dummies, meant to stay intact during test shuttle crashes. They broke before him just the same. All he had to do was imagine that they were the Cerberus doctors who worked on him.
Without a word, he made his way to The Gauntlet. He prepped it for an exercise. As he made his way to the entrance to the chamber, he prepped his mind as well. When the doors opened and he pulled his gun, Jonathan was no longer a prisoner trying to deceive his captors. He was a weapon.
The course was more or less linear, despite taking several turns. The panels of the floor were adjustable, each time creating a unique terrain. Different levels of different heights. New and shifting sources of cover. Not that he used them often. As usual, he strode calmly forward, ignoring every place he could hide.
When the first simulated mech was displayed, its pistol aimed at him, Jonathan chose not to see a holographic representation of a machine. He chose to see a Cerberus agent. His free hand thrust forward, hitting the projection with enough force that the sensors in the room responded by simulating the chassis of the automaton. He chose to see a chest crushed, blood splattering out and jagged shards of bone protruding.
The further he went into the simulation, the more and more challenging it became. He started facing more and more enemies, some of them boasting simulated biotic or tech abilities. Jonathan stayed to usage of his biotics as much as possible, those being the abilities he needed most to hone. When he was surrounded, he fell into the dance he knew so well, the unique human martial arts form that so few people still practiced these days. Only if he found himself truly in a bind did he resort to using his Hornet or Harrier.
Slowly but surely, he found his muscles giving way to exhaustion. Cramping up. But he kept putting one foot in front of the other. Kept eliminating one threat after another.
Before he knew it, he was through The Gauntlet.
He was barely aware, as his team gathered around him, hooting and hollering their congratulations at being the first one to make it through. Jonathan chose to give into his exhaustion to mask his revulsion at having to accept their praise. Only when the men had walked off did he look up and find a new face.
Her features were the very definition of feminine beauty, and her auburn hair cascaded down to her shoulders in gentle waves. Her light custom armor, a glaring brilliant white, showed off her form. She had graceful curves but was by no means buxom.
His heart skipped a beat when she smiled at him. Her voice was smooth as silk when she said, "That was impressive. Maybe we can dance together sometime."
Jonathan found himself at a loss for words.
She extended her hand. "I'm Emily. Emily Moore."
"Jonathan Hunt," he said.
He thought he saw her smile widen for just a moment. "It's nice to meet you Jonathan."
With his greater ability came greater appreciation from the other members of his team. They conversed with him more at their daily lunches. Paid more attention to his runs through The Gauntlet, which were growing more and more successful.
He rolled his shoulders, as he stepped out of the mass of twisted metal which had been his training dummies. The first ones they used with him were standard martial arts dummies, made to take a physical blow. More recently, they were using crash dummies, meant to stay intact during test shuttle crashes. They broke before him just the same. All he had to do was imagine that they were the Cerberus doctors who worked on him.
Without a word, he made his way to The Gauntlet. He prepped it for an exercise. As he made his way to the entrance to the chamber, he prepped his mind as well. When the doors opened and he pulled his gun, Jonathan was no longer a prisoner trying to deceive his captors. He was a weapon.
The course was more or less linear, despite taking several turns. The panels of the floor were adjustable, each time creating a unique terrain. Different levels of different heights. New and shifting sources of cover. Not that he used them often. As usual, he strode calmly forward, ignoring every place he could hide.
When the first simulated mech was displayed, its pistol aimed at him, Jonathan chose not to see a holographic representation of a machine. He chose to see a Cerberus agent. His free hand thrust forward, hitting the projection with enough force that the sensors in the room responded by simulating the chassis of the automaton. He chose to see a chest crushed, blood splattering out and jagged shards of bone protruding.
The further he went into the simulation, the more and more challenging it became. He started facing more and more enemies, some of them boasting simulated biotic or tech abilities. Jonathan stayed to usage of his biotics as much as possible, those being the abilities he needed most to hone. When he was surrounded, he fell into the dance he knew so well, the unique human martial arts form that so few people still practiced these days. Only if he found himself truly in a bind did he resort to using his Hornet or Harrier.
Slowly but surely, he found his muscles giving way to exhaustion. Cramping up. But he kept putting one foot in front of the other. Kept eliminating one threat after another.
Before he knew it, he was through The Gauntlet.
He was barely aware, as his team gathered around him, hooting and hollering their congratulations at being the first one to make it through. Jonathan chose to give into his exhaustion to mask his revulsion at having to accept their praise. Only when the men had walked off did he look up and find a new face.
Her features were the very definition of feminine beauty, and her auburn hair cascaded down to her shoulders in gentle waves. Her light custom armor, a glaring brilliant white, showed off her form. She had graceful curves but was by no means buxom.
His heart skipped a beat when she smiled at him. Her voice was smooth as silk when she said, "That was impressive. Maybe we can dance together sometime."
Jonathan found himself at a loss for words.
She extended her hand. "I'm Emily. Emily Moore."
"Jonathan Hunt," he said.
He thought he saw her smile widen for just a moment. "It's nice to meet you Jonathan."
#########
Jonathan ducked under cover. It shifted frequently at this level of the simulation. He threw a biotic-enhanced kick as he rolled from one position to another, making his way forward. The half a dozen simulated krogan were focusing all of their attention on him. That was good, as it meant they would most likely not noticed the flicker of Emily's stealth field as she slipped around behind them.
He poked out from behind cover again, unloading several rounds from his Hornet. Jonathan could not help but smile, as he heard a quick succession of shots from Emily's pistol. After two breaths, he leaped out, finding that, as expected, the remaining foes had turned to regard their now threat. It was a mistake he took advantage of, throwing one of them to the ground with a biotic push while unloading half a clip into the other.
"Come on," she encouraged. If they were fast enough, they might be able to make it out before the computer spawned the final foe for them to overcome.
Despite weeks of training together for hours a day, they had been unable to make it through The Gauntlet. It was scaled significantly more difficult for two participants than it was for one. Jonathan had to admit, though, that the time together with Emily was enjoyable. They even spent much of their time off together.
It surprised him when he confided her reasons for joining Cerberus. She claimed her father was a man of some influence in the colonies. That he was an abusive man who refused to let her go. Cerberus, she claimed, was her escape.
Running side by side, they were almost to the door when the computer spawned their last challenge, a pair of Atlas mechs. Together, the two foes completely blocked off the corridor. Without a word, Jonathan and Emily dove for positions of cover at opposite ends of the corridor. This is what the computer always gave them, because they were unable to beat it. Every time, it took down at least one of them, and The Gauntlet only awarded a win if all parties made it out intact.
A simulated missile impacted between them, sending up holographic static.
"I've got an idea," she yelled over the sound of the mechs making their way closer.
"I'm open to suggestions," Jonathan said.
She rolled a pair of grenades over to him. "Artillery strike."
He holstered his Hornet and laughed. "Biotic artillery? Interesting idea."
Not wasting any time, he activated the two grenades in kinetic impact mode. He then created a small lift field, raising the grenades to chest-level. Wasting no time, he popped up and aimed a punch for each grenade, striking through and aiming for the body of the right-side mech. The simulated explosion was deafening in the small corridor. Atlas staggered back, the shields around the cockpit having taken a serious amount of damage from the impact of his biotic fields. The explosion did the rest.
As soon as it happened, Emily disappeared. Jonathan was the clear threat, and the Atlas focused its arsenal of weaponry on him. After a couple moments, he heard another deafening explosion.
Without waiting, Jonathan rushed from behind cover. The mech was still functional, its legs having been taken out. It was still trying to adapt to operate with the severe damage, and Jonathan was able to get past it without any further incident.
Emily dropped her cloak just as they reached the exit. They passed through. Their first win.
He was so excited that he picked her up in a hug and spun her around. They shared a victorious laugh privately. None of the others were present, having lost interest some time ago.
Then she kissed him.
And he kissed back.
He poked out from behind cover again, unloading several rounds from his Hornet. Jonathan could not help but smile, as he heard a quick succession of shots from Emily's pistol. After two breaths, he leaped out, finding that, as expected, the remaining foes had turned to regard their now threat. It was a mistake he took advantage of, throwing one of them to the ground with a biotic push while unloading half a clip into the other.
"Come on," she encouraged. If they were fast enough, they might be able to make it out before the computer spawned the final foe for them to overcome.
Despite weeks of training together for hours a day, they had been unable to make it through The Gauntlet. It was scaled significantly more difficult for two participants than it was for one. Jonathan had to admit, though, that the time together with Emily was enjoyable. They even spent much of their time off together.
It surprised him when he confided her reasons for joining Cerberus. She claimed her father was a man of some influence in the colonies. That he was an abusive man who refused to let her go. Cerberus, she claimed, was her escape.
Running side by side, they were almost to the door when the computer spawned their last challenge, a pair of Atlas mechs. Together, the two foes completely blocked off the corridor. Without a word, Jonathan and Emily dove for positions of cover at opposite ends of the corridor. This is what the computer always gave them, because they were unable to beat it. Every time, it took down at least one of them, and The Gauntlet only awarded a win if all parties made it out intact.
A simulated missile impacted between them, sending up holographic static.
"I've got an idea," she yelled over the sound of the mechs making their way closer.
"I'm open to suggestions," Jonathan said.
She rolled a pair of grenades over to him. "Artillery strike."
He holstered his Hornet and laughed. "Biotic artillery? Interesting idea."
Not wasting any time, he activated the two grenades in kinetic impact mode. He then created a small lift field, raising the grenades to chest-level. Wasting no time, he popped up and aimed a punch for each grenade, striking through and aiming for the body of the right-side mech. The simulated explosion was deafening in the small corridor. Atlas staggered back, the shields around the cockpit having taken a serious amount of damage from the impact of his biotic fields. The explosion did the rest.
As soon as it happened, Emily disappeared. Jonathan was the clear threat, and the Atlas focused its arsenal of weaponry on him. After a couple moments, he heard another deafening explosion.
Without waiting, Jonathan rushed from behind cover. The mech was still functional, its legs having been taken out. It was still trying to adapt to operate with the severe damage, and Jonathan was able to get past it without any further incident.
Emily dropped her cloak just as they reached the exit. They passed through. Their first win.
He was so excited that he picked her up in a hug and spun her around. They shared a victorious laugh privately. None of the others were present, having lost interest some time ago.
Then she kissed him.
And he kissed back.