We'll do one with ten, and one with seven, just to test both. I chose ten because that's what the Ratings War, a bit of an inspiration for this, does, and it seems to work fairly well for them.razer17 said:
We'll be starting on Monday.
Starcraft: The Ghost Program ((Closed. Mission Initiated))
- Thread starter Flying-Emu
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We'll be starting on Monday.
Name: Zera Sialus.
Sex: Male.
Age: 8
Psi Aptitude: 3.
Physical Description: Zera stands just over 3 foot tall, which makes him short for his age. Caucasian, with straight brown hair, falling to the base of his neck at the back, short fringe at the front. His build is neither particularly athletic nor is he overweight. At 41 lbs he's average weight for his height.
Personality: Zera is inherently kind, almost always wishing the best for those around him. Well spoken and charismatic means that he was never without someone to talk to. For the most part, he's extremely outgoing and chatty and were it not for his honest - almost naive - sensibilities, people might find him annoying.
Sadly, not all in Zera's mind is quite right. On occassion he has had more than one nervous breakdown and colossal personality change. Not to the point where he has a separate consciousness occupying his psyche, but enough that people can instantly tell the difference. Generally this is accompanied by bouts of sadism and rude conversation, far and away from his normal polite tones. Thankfully these are rare and pass quickly; no one is sure what brings on these personality switches - not even Zera himself - but his Doctor had told his parents that he would grow out of them in time.
Background: Zera spent his first years amongst the stars, born on a cargo ship that bounced between planets ferrying various goods and materials for whoever would pay. His father was Captain and owner of the ship and his mother was his school-time sweetheart who chose to accompany the journies and help out rather than sit on their home planet waiting for her husband to finally return home.
As such, he grew up among numerous familiar faces which were always there. He quickly developed close bonds and everyone around him seemed to smile when he was in the room. It wasn't until his sixth birthday that suspicions about his 'gift' began to surface when he blew out the candles on his cake without opening his mouth. His parents decided to keep it quiet as long as they could; not wanting to lose their child. However on a routine check in on one of the Core planets, he garnered the attention of a military officer who ordered tests run. After the discovery, Zera was allowed to say goodbye to his parents and then he was whisked off to the Academy. His parents told him that they were sending him to a specialised boarding school where other children with his 'gift' were learning. Zera, therefore, is not fully aware of the implications of where and what he is as of yet.
(OOC: Hope this is alright.)
Would help if I wrote the end of my spoiler tags ;/
Sex: Male.
Age: 8
Psi Aptitude: 3.
Physical Description: Zera stands just over 3 foot tall, which makes him short for his age. Caucasian, with straight brown hair, falling to the base of his neck at the back, short fringe at the front. His build is neither particularly athletic nor is he overweight. At 41 lbs he's average weight for his height.
Personality: Zera is inherently kind, almost always wishing the best for those around him. Well spoken and charismatic means that he was never without someone to talk to. For the most part, he's extremely outgoing and chatty and were it not for his honest - almost naive - sensibilities, people might find him annoying.
Sadly, not all in Zera's mind is quite right. On occassion he has had more than one nervous breakdown and colossal personality change. Not to the point where he has a separate consciousness occupying his psyche, but enough that people can instantly tell the difference. Generally this is accompanied by bouts of sadism and rude conversation, far and away from his normal polite tones. Thankfully these are rare and pass quickly; no one is sure what brings on these personality switches - not even Zera himself - but his Doctor had told his parents that he would grow out of them in time.
Background: Zera spent his first years amongst the stars, born on a cargo ship that bounced between planets ferrying various goods and materials for whoever would pay. His father was Captain and owner of the ship and his mother was his school-time sweetheart who chose to accompany the journies and help out rather than sit on their home planet waiting for her husband to finally return home.
As such, he grew up among numerous familiar faces which were always there. He quickly developed close bonds and everyone around him seemed to smile when he was in the room. It wasn't until his sixth birthday that suspicions about his 'gift' began to surface when he blew out the candles on his cake without opening his mouth. His parents decided to keep it quiet as long as they could; not wanting to lose their child. However on a routine check in on one of the Core planets, he garnered the attention of a military officer who ordered tests run. After the discovery, Zera was allowed to say goodbye to his parents and then he was whisked off to the Academy. His parents told him that they were sending him to a specialised boarding school where other children with his 'gift' were learning. Zera, therefore, is not fully aware of the implications of where and what he is as of yet.
(OOC: Hope this is alright.)
Would help if I wrote the end of my spoiler tags ;/
Sorry for the delay but here I am now. I'm going to reuse an old character I used for xxcloud417xx's Starcraft RP but scaled down for obvious reasons. Still, if there is anything that needs tending to let me know;
Name:Marcus Anderson
Sex: Male
Age: 7
Psi Aptitude: 3
Physical Description: Marcus stands at about 4 feet in height and is often seen running about in his favorite green t-shirt (with a picture of a Terran Vulture) and a cowboy hat that belonged to his father. His brown eyes are a stark contrast to his short dark black hair.
Personality: Is known for making lighthearted, if not dry jokes, about almost anything. He prefers to stay away from large crowd because they tend to make him nervous and as a result he spends much of his time either in the library or in on the observation decks.
Background: Marcus was born to a family on the settlement of Los Andares on Chau Sara. Even at an early age in his life Marcus could feel a connection to the psionic power, though at the time he did not know what it was. He showed an ability to read the minds of people around him and to some extent even could move objects with some effort. His parents, concerned at the level of skill and dexterity displayed by the young Marcus, took him for an evaluation at a local medical center.
The rest was history.
Marcus was identified as a candidate and was immediately sent to the Ghost Academy on Tarsonis to be trained and initiated under the Ghost program. Today he finds himself still coming to grasps with his abilities and learning how to channel and control his emotions and psionic disruptions but for the most part, he seems content knowing that at least for once in his life he is surrounded by people who are much like him.
Name:Marcus Anderson
Sex: Male
Age: 7
Psi Aptitude: 3
Physical Description: Marcus stands at about 4 feet in height and is often seen running about in his favorite green t-shirt (with a picture of a Terran Vulture) and a cowboy hat that belonged to his father. His brown eyes are a stark contrast to his short dark black hair.
Personality: Is known for making lighthearted, if not dry jokes, about almost anything. He prefers to stay away from large crowd because they tend to make him nervous and as a result he spends much of his time either in the library or in on the observation decks.
Background: Marcus was born to a family on the settlement of Los Andares on Chau Sara. Even at an early age in his life Marcus could feel a connection to the psionic power, though at the time he did not know what it was. He showed an ability to read the minds of people around him and to some extent even could move objects with some effort. His parents, concerned at the level of skill and dexterity displayed by the young Marcus, took him for an evaluation at a local medical center.
The rest was history.
Marcus was identified as a candidate and was immediately sent to the Ghost Academy on Tarsonis to be trained and initiated under the Ghost program. Today he finds himself still coming to grasps with his abilities and learning how to channel and control his emotions and psionic disruptions but for the most part, he seems content knowing that at least for once in his life he is surrounded by people who are much like him.
[b/]Name:[/b] Lukas Yojimbi
[b/]Sex:[/b] Male
[b/]Age:[/b] Began training at age 10
[b/]Psi:[/b] 2
[b/]Physical Traits:[/b] Due to being found at a rather old age for a trainee, Lukas had honed many skills on his own while being an orphan in the slums of Tarsonis. These include a heightened ability in sword play, stealth and overall cunning, thus making up for his lack in psionic ability. Yojimbi is below average in height and very slim, adding to nimbleness in the aforementioned skill areas. Yojimbi is incredibly silent and does not say much, he leaves his actions to speak for him.
[b/]Background:[/b] Yojimbi was caught in the act of larceny at age ten. He was ?transferring ownership? from a noble of Tarsonis where Lukas had lived his entire life. On trial, a Ghost recruiter in the area noticed his psionic ability, pardoned his crimes and drafted him into the ghost program.
[b/]Sex:[/b] Male
[b/]Age:[/b] Began training at age 10
[b/]Psi:[/b] 2
[b/]Physical Traits:[/b] Due to being found at a rather old age for a trainee, Lukas had honed many skills on his own while being an orphan in the slums of Tarsonis. These include a heightened ability in sword play, stealth and overall cunning, thus making up for his lack in psionic ability. Yojimbi is below average in height and very slim, adding to nimbleness in the aforementioned skill areas. Yojimbi is incredibly silent and does not say much, he leaves his actions to speak for him.
[b/]Background:[/b] Yojimbi was caught in the act of larceny at age ten. He was ?transferring ownership? from a noble of Tarsonis where Lukas had lived his entire life. On trial, a Ghost recruiter in the area noticed his psionic ability, pardoned his crimes and drafted him into the ghost program.
[HEADING=1]Last Call for Characters[/HEADING]
This is the last call for characters. Submissions will be cut off at 11:59 AM tomorrow. PST, of course. At roughly noon, I will post the first training mission and set you on your ways. Have fun.
This is the last call for characters. Submissions will be cut off at 11:59 AM tomorrow. PST, of course. At roughly noon, I will post the first training mission and set you on your ways. Have fun.
Amnestic said:
Skarin said:
pantsoffdanceoff said:
All approved. Oh, and Skarin; Loved the Tales of Monkey Island review.scotth266 said:
Cheers!, yeah I am quite fond of the Monkey Island series and I was just happy to see a good sequel done. Though I hope it carries through to the next installment...Flying-Emu said:
[HEADING=2]Mission One:[/HEADING]
[HEADING=3]The Test Begins[/HEADING]
[HEADING=3]The Test Begins[/HEADING]
The Commander stood before his new wards. All young, although not young enough. All stood straight, if not straight enough. All had power, more than enough.
"Children!" He barked, causing the recruits to snap to attention. Sweat beaded on more than one forehead, and several wore darkly frightened countenances. Tian strode before the line, his hands clasped behind his back, looking at each of the children in turn. "Congratulations. You have been selected for a very... special... purpose. First, we shall test various facets of your mental strength. This will be frightening, but worry not; none of this will be deadly."
He spoke coldly, his voice devoid of emotion. A pair of armoured Marines clunked into the room. Hidden behind the opaque visors of their helms, they watched the children somberly. A metallic, electronic voice crackled into life "Follow us. And stay close."
~~~
Mission: Pass the Mental Exam
Characters: Player's character only
Reward: Get-out-of-mission-free pass
Description: The first of the Ghost examinations. You will be subjected to a number of mental trials, including but not limited to Psi prying (Digging into your memory and psyche), moral examinations, etc. Feel free to be creative with this; there are any number of possible mental exams. If you have trouble thinking of one, feel free to PM me with an assistance request. I've got a number I can give you.
Deadline: Thursday, August 6th
This is a big 'un.
Zera fell into line behind the armoured marines, a smile playing across his features. The emotionless tones of the Commander had been entirely lost on him and he was rather enjoying the whole experience so far. His eyes danced wildly across the walls, ceilings and the marines in front of him. He opened his mouth to ask what the large suits did exactly but before he could even speak the soldier hushed him with a grunt. His parents had often done the same when he was asking too many questions, and he took it as a sign to merely observe rather than inquire.
After a short walk, totalling about five minutes, he was lead ? alone ? into a room off to one side. There sat a man in a long white coat. He wore glasses that were attached to a chain, hovering below his neck. The man?s hair was short, black and tussled, his complexion pasty white as though he hadn?t seen the sun in many years. His entire face was gaunt, his eyes like two swollen orbs which seemed to be straining against their sockets in an effort to escape from his head. He gave off an aura of extreme exhaustion, as if he?d been driven to his limits and then been pushed over them with a whip at his heels.
?You look tired Mister.? Zera said, the smile still there. He positively glowed with innocence, the doctor must have noted it because he scribbled something hastily on his clipboard, though what it was, Zera had no idea.
?Well perhaps I am.? The doctor replied with a small laugh, not unkindly. ?I?m Doctor Lesco, I?m going to be performing the tests on you today. May I call you Zera??
?Everyone does!? His reply was bright and full of energy. A look of sadness wafted across the doctor?s face as though he already knew that it wouldn?t last. Zera either didn?t notice or took it to mean something else. He hopped up onto the empty chair and leant back. ?This is just like being back at the dentists.?
?Something like that. I?m going to lower this machine onto the top of your head and over your eyes, then ask you some questions. All you have to do is answer as truthfully as you feel you can. If you don?t understand, just say so and I?ll try to explain.?
?Okay Doctor Lesco! I?m ready.? Lesco leant over to his console and tapped a few buttons. A small plate in the ceiling drew back and a machine descended from the ceiling. It looked like the top half of a helmet, with a large visor to cover the eyes. Various wires and tubes fed off it onto the central pole which held the machine in place on its descent. With a few murmurs of communication between the two, the machine was fitted into place.
?Okay, first question. Your great aunt has given you a sweet pastry as a birthday present. Later, a local bully tells you to give it to him. What do you do??
?My parents always said sharing is good, so I think I?d ask him if he wanted to share it with me.? Lesco tapped a few buttons on his console and made a note on his clipboard at this, another look of sadness on his face. He knew it wouldn?t last. Perhaps it was the knowledge of what he was doing that had drained his features rather than fatigue, but that was a secret that existed between him and the four walls of the room, for none to know but himself.
?Second question: You find a bag of money on the ground in the middle of a busy city street. No one around you seems to be looking for it. Again, how would you proceed??
?Find the local authority and turn it over to them.? The questions and answers were only a small part of the test. While it was going on, Zera?s mind was being scanned on various levels, analysing what parts of his brain were active with his answers, as well as touching on some of his memories.
?Third question: Your ship is under attack from Protoss scout forces. The ship?s Captain has ordered everyone to evacuate to the escape shuttles. On your way to the shuttle, you see two maintenance workers trapped inside a room, asking for help. How do you proceed??
?I try to help them of course. If I can save two people, it?s worth giving up my own life.? A blip on Lesco?s console told him that the Psi probe was done. The results flashed up on Lesco?s screen but he paid them little heed, jotting down notes in an automated fashion rather than actively registering them. He?d seen so many results before, too many to count. Zera, for all his smiles and innocence, was just another trainee Ghost.
?Fourth question: What is the next number in this sequence: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8. Take your time to answer, think it through. I?m putting the numbers on display on your visor.? Lesco tapped another button on his console and the numbers blazed into life in front of Zera?s eyes. A few moments passed as he scrunched his brain in concentration, trying to pick out some sort of pattern.
?Thirteen.? Zera replied after about fifteen seconds. His tones held none of the brightness from before, they were sullen and cold.
?Zera, is something the matter??
?Hm? Nope. All fine here.? And the glow had returned, as quickly as it had gone. Lesco made a special note to analyse Question Four?s brain activity later.
?Okay then, final question: Your father orders you to kill your brother to save the family. Do you fulfil his request?? Zera audibly choked at the prospect. Such a concept was...alien to him, as alien as the Protoss were. To kill another human? Madness, in Zera?s eyes at least. Or was it? If it was truly to save his family, then would he kill someone? Could he take another life in order to protect others?
Though his voice was strained and barely above a whisper, he did answer, simply ?Yes.? With that, the test had been completed. The machine retracted back into the ceiling and Zera sat up. In just a few minutes, he had gone from trying to share with the neighbourhood bully to someone who would kill if necessary. Even by normal standards his progress was astounding to Lesco. Zera would certainly be one to watch in the coming years, especially for signs of psychological struggle. Other than that though, Zera had checked out fine. Better than fine, in fact. His logical capabilities surpassed those of most 8 year olds. Most failed the number sequence question but Zera had answered in but fifteen seconds, though notably with the change in tone.
As Zera made his way to the door, guided by the good Doctor, he stopped for a moment.
?I hope you feel better when I see you next.? He grinned up, beaming his radiance and for a moment, the Doctor did feel better. Whether it was a natural ability of the childlike innocence or a subconscious use of Zera?s psi powers, Lesco wasn?t sure.
?I do too Zera, I do too.?
Wow, that was really well done, I look forward to reading more of your mission posts.Amnestic said:
Now I really wish i didn't have to follow you up.
This is rather large as well
[b/]Report to Commander Tian:[/b]
Mental Diagnostic Test Conclusion
Questions and Procedures derived from the Mk V Mental Process Codex
Name: Yojimbi, Lukas
Age: 10.387
Basic Physiological Structures (based on Perceived Age to Actual Age):
Structure Maturity: Supreme
Neural Connections: Highly linked
SPECIAL NOTE: The Neural connections to muscular system are incredibly well developed, indicating unnatural dexterity and hypersensitivity.
Synapse Fire Rate: Supreme
Amygdala Registration Speed: Above Average
SPECIAL NOTE: Unlike most minds, this Recruits? Amygdala does not block off the cortexes? higher thought processes, thus enabling his mind to be rational under intense stress.
Conclusion: Supreme
Basic Psychological Structures (based on Perceived Age to Actual Age):
Basic Psychological Maturity: Above Average
Basic Societal Maturity: Subpar
SPECIAL NOTE: Due to the Recruit?s low level in social interactions, it is advised that this Recruit take extra study in Diplomacy and Team Strategies.
Basic Strategic Understanding: Subpar
SPECIAL NOTE: Due to the Recruit?s low level in strategy involving a group of two or more people, it is advised this Recruit take extra study in Tactics and Team Strategies.
Basic Creativity Capability: Supreme
Basic Logical Capability: Above Average
ADVISORY: Due to the Recruit?s low levels in Societal Maturity and Strategic Understanding, slight Paranoid Personality Disorder was suspected. This was later confirmed by Psychiatrist Joseph Frond (report in attachment to this file). However, this case was not drastic enough to call for an immediate retraction of the Recruit?s legitimacy as a Ghost.
Conclusion: Caution Advised
Basic Loyalty Profile (based on Perceived Age to Actual Age)
Loyalty to Superiors: Average
Loyalty to Peers: Above Average
Ability to Withstand Interrogation: Subpar
SPECIAL NOTE: It is doubtful that this suggests that the Recruit honors himself above his people. Due to the Recruit?s hypersensitivity, pain is psychologically highly magnified.
DOCTOR?S NOTE: The hypersensitivity to pain can be averted by having an intravenous morphine capsule near the heart. Due to the Recruit?s heightened synapse fire rate, he is a perfect candidate for the experimental procedure.
Conclusion: Average
Combat Mentality Specifics (based on Perceived age to Actual Age):
Reduction of Thought Process Speed under stress: Unnoticeable
Ability to take Commands under Fire: Average
Ability to give Commands under Fire: Subpar
SPECIAL NOTE: This is more likely due to the Recruit?s social retardation and not the ability to work under stress.
Willingness to Kill: N/A
SPECIAL NOTE: For unknown reasons, three of our best evaluators were unable to judge whether the Recruit could take a life or not, and how fast. As this phenomenon is unprecedented it is advised that this is evaluated ?the old-fashioned way?.
Conclusion: Not enough information at this time.
Summary: The Recruit has a physical brain bordering on paranormal; his hypersensitivity alone could make him a superb covert agent. His childhood in the slums must have caused him to quickly adapt, leading to these neural enhancements. However, the slums obviously left a horrible curse as well. Although his Paranoia Personality Disorder is slight, it causes high risk for him in any activities involving squads. It is advised that Psionic treatment is taken immediately to suppress/erase this personality disorder. The fact that we could not evaluate his willingness to take a life may suggest mental barriers unheard of in power, or more likely he himself truly does not know if he is capable of taking a life. It would be a shame to lose such a promising recruit and thus I would advise that he be accepted, albeit, under extreme prejudice.
-Examiner Lucia Ortegos
-Psychiatrist Joseph Frond
-Doctor Arthur Montgomery
P.S.
We have no new leads on the disappearance of your cookies, the investigation is, however, still ongoing.
-Ortegos
Karhill was pushed by one the burly looking marines into a subsection of the room he was in. The room was still quite connected to the room and all he found was a can of his favorite soda Fizzy-bomb code: Nuke a table shrouded in a dim light, the kind which only illuminates what it is under and little else.
The shoves from the marines amounted to small punches as he thought because of maybe the strength enchancements from the armor suits, his last shove into the room was more of a push which landed him directly in the ground, he questioned mentally why the soldier would use such strength at what seemed like a protocol mental examination...not a witch-trial!
He stumbled through the darkness by the table to find a seat, which after his 3rd probe into the darkness found one, the hard metal kind.
A voice from the darkness proclaimed, "Lights on that 7%," it stuttered for a moment and the voice said, "I am Doctor Lovemern, and I have been asked to give you a more...unorthodox method of mental tests I am quite familiar with!" His voice gave Karhill the thrills, he was wondering how unorthodox these tests would be and considering that these tests would be unorthodox in his mind that the others would be quite different themselves, either making him a special case or another victim for the mind probe. His mind was slapping each possible thought in less than a moment, he thinks that is his special skill, he can always think some mental situations through, but some call him lacking common-sense in reality.
"Mr. Lovemern....What do you mean by...unorthodox?" Karhill stuttered, his mind trying to contemplate the answer his "doctor" would give him.
"How about this unorthodox?" he voice turned sharp, "Lights 100 percent!"
The lights blinded Karhill in a daze of confusion, only to find his skull smashed against the table in such a brute and fast manner that it tore the skin off his forehead. While still blind he received a punch on the side of his head by a plastic like rubber glove, sent him fumbling out of his chair to land dead center on a glass window. His blood from his forehead streaked across the glass as he slid down, the lights coming to him.
He wiped the blood off his eyelids and observed the room, the doctor staring blankly at him had long hair caught into a ponytail. The person who kicked his ass was wearing a tight skin tight combat suit, which Karhill thought was too tight on the breats and he could waguely see the outlines of her ni-. A kick landed on his stomach knocking the wind and a few chunks of blood from his throat.
"Put him back on the seat, Kyren," coldly said the doctor, "NOW! While his adrenline is kicking in!" Kyren picked him up gently, which he thought was unknown to himm considering the level of ass-kickery she was doing to him. Karhill, soon took in his environment, his eyes less blinded by the light, he saw the entire room encased in glass the door he came in was a metal sheet, which firmed held down and showed no signs of opening.
"I'm sorry," replied Kyren, while her eyes started to bulge and she began to smile with a frenzy, of which you barely see in sane people.
"My assistant Kyren is an asset! You see? No one will want to rough up a child nowadays! Kyren, or as her paper name was, the Nap-time Nooser, has no probelm hurting kids!" Karhills brain was flushed with old and recent memories concerning the infamous child-murderer of the Slums of the small star colony Georgia IV. Her exploits were all over the news! Her body count was 99 before they finally found her, they said she was put in the plasma bin to burn to death...but apparantly they lied...or was this another mind game? "Funny thing!" laughed the doctor, "while probing her mind, I see an intake of sexual hormones....this is like sex to her! Crazy huh? Its like were doing her a favor by letting her rough up you! Enough about deviate people! Lets have some private time!"
Kyren was holding herself with a tired look trotted out of the room, her face was red and was wimpering slightly under her breadth. The Fizzy-bomb was thrust into his hands, without question he opened the lid, chugged it without ration or reserve. The doctor opened the bag on the side of the table out of sight, and pulled out googles, they were thrown into his hands and he put them on without question. The black tinted googles were heavy and stuck to his face hard with a suction like grip.
"What do you see here?" shrugged the doctor while holding a rorshach card above his face. The only thing he could see in the card was a man holding two sticks, which he promptly responded to as he saw it!
"How about this?" chuckled the doctor, Karhill could only see a girl cut in half with blood staining on the window, he assumed it was from a shell landed directly through her body. He held back his response and said he saw to angels dancing. The doctor squinted at him and said
"You may leave!"
Karhill stood in awe at the picture and stared at the gore indepth at the picture...lost in its beauty...its...wonder....its.......unmercyless rage! "KARHILL! GET UP YOU STUPID FUCK," yelled the doctor, "now leave!" As Karhill left the room, he spat in the corner of the room, a defiant, "Fuck you," to the beatin he incurred earlier!
10 minutes later the doctor was staring at the card, muttering to himself in a sad, depressed tone, "He saw what he saw and he didn't want to tell us!" He turned to his notebook and wrote,
" Journal of DR. H.P. Lovemern the 5th
Patient: 1
Severity: 2
Possible Mental Malady: Kelman's Syndrome...an almost sadist approach to women, which is proved the moment he saw the photograph of his mothers death by the hands of his father converted into a rorshach blot!
This boy...this Karhill Infierna, is suffering from a serious defect! It could jepordize his social behavior with women, and leave him prone to violence towards women. He is my first patient I have recieved...ever, and it appear to be entirely severe! I feel sorry for this poor child, and how rudely I ask to him, but abuse and physical stimulation may induce his syndrome to a more physical state which I can combat by talking to him. Next time I meet him, I may have to have Kyren physically abuse him some more possibly to a more graphic and painful extent. I don't know why the military hires these psychos with sexual defects to do a job a person of sane nature can do just about as well?
I will need extended time with the boy, with x10 of the experimental drug: Almanopao, which is clinically proven to induce rapid memory gain, for an X amount of time. This poor child will need more time with me, I need to send a note to Commander Tian that this child is not field ready and I will comission another session with him for starters!
I will file the commission right now!"
He shoved the note into his bag and walked out of the room, minding someone cleans the pools of blood off the table, floor and window to his lab.
The shoves from the marines amounted to small punches as he thought because of maybe the strength enchancements from the armor suits, his last shove into the room was more of a push which landed him directly in the ground, he questioned mentally why the soldier would use such strength at what seemed like a protocol mental examination...not a witch-trial!
He stumbled through the darkness by the table to find a seat, which after his 3rd probe into the darkness found one, the hard metal kind.
A voice from the darkness proclaimed, "Lights on that 7%," it stuttered for a moment and the voice said, "I am Doctor Lovemern, and I have been asked to give you a more...unorthodox method of mental tests I am quite familiar with!" His voice gave Karhill the thrills, he was wondering how unorthodox these tests would be and considering that these tests would be unorthodox in his mind that the others would be quite different themselves, either making him a special case or another victim for the mind probe. His mind was slapping each possible thought in less than a moment, he thinks that is his special skill, he can always think some mental situations through, but some call him lacking common-sense in reality.
"Mr. Lovemern....What do you mean by...unorthodox?" Karhill stuttered, his mind trying to contemplate the answer his "doctor" would give him.
"How about this unorthodox?" he voice turned sharp, "Lights 100 percent!"
The lights blinded Karhill in a daze of confusion, only to find his skull smashed against the table in such a brute and fast manner that it tore the skin off his forehead. While still blind he received a punch on the side of his head by a plastic like rubber glove, sent him fumbling out of his chair to land dead center on a glass window. His blood from his forehead streaked across the glass as he slid down, the lights coming to him.
He wiped the blood off his eyelids and observed the room, the doctor staring blankly at him had long hair caught into a ponytail. The person who kicked his ass was wearing a tight skin tight combat suit, which Karhill thought was too tight on the breats and he could waguely see the outlines of her ni-. A kick landed on his stomach knocking the wind and a few chunks of blood from his throat.
"Put him back on the seat, Kyren," coldly said the doctor, "NOW! While his adrenline is kicking in!" Kyren picked him up gently, which he thought was unknown to himm considering the level of ass-kickery she was doing to him. Karhill, soon took in his environment, his eyes less blinded by the light, he saw the entire room encased in glass the door he came in was a metal sheet, which firmed held down and showed no signs of opening.
"I'm sorry," replied Kyren, while her eyes started to bulge and she began to smile with a frenzy, of which you barely see in sane people.
"My assistant Kyren is an asset! You see? No one will want to rough up a child nowadays! Kyren, or as her paper name was, the Nap-time Nooser, has no probelm hurting kids!" Karhills brain was flushed with old and recent memories concerning the infamous child-murderer of the Slums of the small star colony Georgia IV. Her exploits were all over the news! Her body count was 99 before they finally found her, they said she was put in the plasma bin to burn to death...but apparantly they lied...or was this another mind game? "Funny thing!" laughed the doctor, "while probing her mind, I see an intake of sexual hormones....this is like sex to her! Crazy huh? Its like were doing her a favor by letting her rough up you! Enough about deviate people! Lets have some private time!"
Kyren was holding herself with a tired look trotted out of the room, her face was red and was wimpering slightly under her breadth. The Fizzy-bomb was thrust into his hands, without question he opened the lid, chugged it without ration or reserve. The doctor opened the bag on the side of the table out of sight, and pulled out googles, they were thrown into his hands and he put them on without question. The black tinted googles were heavy and stuck to his face hard with a suction like grip.
"What do you see here?" shrugged the doctor while holding a rorshach card above his face. The only thing he could see in the card was a man holding two sticks, which he promptly responded to as he saw it!
"How about this?" chuckled the doctor, Karhill could only see a girl cut in half with blood staining on the window, he assumed it was from a shell landed directly through her body. He held back his response and said he saw to angels dancing. The doctor squinted at him and said
"You may leave!"
Karhill stood in awe at the picture and stared at the gore indepth at the picture...lost in its beauty...its...wonder....its.......unmercyless rage! "KARHILL! GET UP YOU STUPID FUCK," yelled the doctor, "now leave!" As Karhill left the room, he spat in the corner of the room, a defiant, "Fuck you," to the beatin he incurred earlier!
10 minutes later the doctor was staring at the card, muttering to himself in a sad, depressed tone, "He saw what he saw and he didn't want to tell us!" He turned to his notebook and wrote,
" Journal of DR. H.P. Lovemern the 5th
Patient: 1
Severity: 2
Possible Mental Malady: Kelman's Syndrome...an almost sadist approach to women, which is proved the moment he saw the photograph of his mothers death by the hands of his father converted into a rorshach blot!
This boy...this Karhill Infierna, is suffering from a serious defect! It could jepordize his social behavior with women, and leave him prone to violence towards women. He is my first patient I have recieved...ever, and it appear to be entirely severe! I feel sorry for this poor child, and how rudely I ask to him, but abuse and physical stimulation may induce his syndrome to a more physical state which I can combat by talking to him. Next time I meet him, I may have to have Kyren physically abuse him some more possibly to a more graphic and painful extent. I don't know why the military hires these psychos with sexual defects to do a job a person of sane nature can do just about as well?
I will need extended time with the boy, with x10 of the experimental drug: Almanopao, which is clinically proven to induce rapid memory gain, for an X amount of time. This poor child will need more time with me, I need to send a note to Commander Tian that this child is not field ready and I will comission another session with him for starters!
I will file the commission right now!"
He shoved the note into his bag and walked out of the room, minding someone cleans the pools of blood off the table, floor and window to his lab.
Having given up in their attempts to usher the child the guards simply hauled him to the testing area after tiring of his slow, shuffling gait. They dropped the boy on his feet in front of the examiner. Scratching a note onto the clipboard, the examiner looked at the child.
It was dirty except for its recently shaven head, still bearing the scars from the implantation of the psychic damper. It looked like it was weak but the examiner knew that this was either a facade or a result of post-surgical stress, after all it had had mere days to recover. He flicked back to the physical examination results and saw that the child had excelled in the test only the other day. A facade then. With a renewed determination, the examiner began.
"What is your name?" It remained silent, staring at the floor. The examiner took a step closer and the child's head came up, revealing hungry eyes, seeking for... something. It was an unfortunate side effect of the damper, memory loss. How much in this case was uncertain but the examiner sighed. This meant more work to establish how extensive the fault with it was.
"Does the word 'Riccachos' mean anything to you?' Still the hungry eyes didn't register his speech, they seemed incapable of it. The examiner sighed again, the loss seemed extensive and this one may be unsuitable for service after all. He tried again.
"Your name is Riccachos, aka 'Rick'. Do you understand?" And yet the thing remained quiet.
"You are Rick, do you understand? Respond!" The examiner was beginning to get angry, this stubborn silence made him think that he may have been right and that the creature was simply putting on a front.
"Yes." The quiet word stopped the examiner for a moment before he looked at the child. The hungry look left its eyes for a moment. No; not left, but subsided for a fleeting moment before coming back, as consuming a desire as ever, a raw need that was almost greater than ones physical ones.
"Come here." It obeyed without question, fearlessly pushing a guard out of the way. The examiner thought for a moment before making a note.
"You are here to pass a psychic examination. That is your goal. Reply if you understand"
"I understand." It spoke clearly, with a mettle that was seemingly seeping into his posture too. It straightened, lifted its head with confidence and the cavernous hungry look retreated. The examiner picked up a small rubber ball.
"You are to prevent this ball touching the ground." He waited a moment before he let it go. It fell, slowly, as if gravity's hold on it was uncertain if it should intrude, before it came to rest, not on the ground but mere inches above. A poor result by any standard. The examiner was wondering whether or not it would need to be disposed of after all. He pressed a button that started a simple piston moving slowly.
"You are to stop this piston." Almost before he had finished speaking the child dashed forward, ripping the piston from the wall, causing a jet of steam to cloud the room. The examiner hastily switched the machine off, preventing the mist from obscuring the room. He was on the verge of berating the creature when he thought about what had happened. He hadn't said the thing needed to use psi powers for this task and indeed, judging by its earlier deficiency, it would be unlikely to accomplish such a feat with them. He made a note.
"Your final test, cloak yourself, using your psi powers," he added the last part hastily, almost fearful of what the child would improvise if not coordinated properly. The child stood there, deep in its focus as its outline blurred and gently wavered, enough to conceal it only in very poor conditions and not in any sort of haste. Another note was added to the sheet. With the thing's weak abilities there was little purpose in any further testing, the strain was likely to kill it although the end result of the examination may be the same regardless.
"You are dismissed, you are to return to your quarters with these guards. Your testing is over." A flash and the hungry look returned, the strength of will fled its frame and he sagged and stood without any sort of resolution.
"Didn't you hear me? I ordered you to return to your quarters." Neither response nor motion volunteered itself and the hunger continued unabated, no longer willing to retreat before such petty orders. Eventually the examiner called the two guards to take it away. The creature's frail form was lifted between the burly men and taken out of the chamber.
The examiner thought for a moment. Despite the weak psychic abilities (due to a damper malfunction perhaps?) the thing undoubtedly possessed the talent and therefore must be treated as a ghost but as to whether it should continue its training or be disposed of was a difficult question. Ultimately he held the final say unless command choose to overrule him, a symbol perhaps of how much humanity feared the psychics in its midst. Despite his misgiving, the examiner had to take into account the child's distinguishing physical and covert abilities and, therefore, passed it, giving warning that mental problems were present and psychological techniques must be applied in order to overcome these.
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As he was dragged back to his quarters the child, who knew himself only by a name others called him, tried to savour the fleeting feeling of knowing purpose.
It was dirty except for its recently shaven head, still bearing the scars from the implantation of the psychic damper. It looked like it was weak but the examiner knew that this was either a facade or a result of post-surgical stress, after all it had had mere days to recover. He flicked back to the physical examination results and saw that the child had excelled in the test only the other day. A facade then. With a renewed determination, the examiner began.
"What is your name?" It remained silent, staring at the floor. The examiner took a step closer and the child's head came up, revealing hungry eyes, seeking for... something. It was an unfortunate side effect of the damper, memory loss. How much in this case was uncertain but the examiner sighed. This meant more work to establish how extensive the fault with it was.
"Does the word 'Riccachos' mean anything to you?' Still the hungry eyes didn't register his speech, they seemed incapable of it. The examiner sighed again, the loss seemed extensive and this one may be unsuitable for service after all. He tried again.
"Your name is Riccachos, aka 'Rick'. Do you understand?" And yet the thing remained quiet.
"You are Rick, do you understand? Respond!" The examiner was beginning to get angry, this stubborn silence made him think that he may have been right and that the creature was simply putting on a front.
"Yes." The quiet word stopped the examiner for a moment before he looked at the child. The hungry look left its eyes for a moment. No; not left, but subsided for a fleeting moment before coming back, as consuming a desire as ever, a raw need that was almost greater than ones physical ones.
"Come here." It obeyed without question, fearlessly pushing a guard out of the way. The examiner thought for a moment before making a note.
"You are here to pass a psychic examination. That is your goal. Reply if you understand"
"I understand." It spoke clearly, with a mettle that was seemingly seeping into his posture too. It straightened, lifted its head with confidence and the cavernous hungry look retreated. The examiner picked up a small rubber ball.
"You are to prevent this ball touching the ground." He waited a moment before he let it go. It fell, slowly, as if gravity's hold on it was uncertain if it should intrude, before it came to rest, not on the ground but mere inches above. A poor result by any standard. The examiner was wondering whether or not it would need to be disposed of after all. He pressed a button that started a simple piston moving slowly.
"You are to stop this piston." Almost before he had finished speaking the child dashed forward, ripping the piston from the wall, causing a jet of steam to cloud the room. The examiner hastily switched the machine off, preventing the mist from obscuring the room. He was on the verge of berating the creature when he thought about what had happened. He hadn't said the thing needed to use psi powers for this task and indeed, judging by its earlier deficiency, it would be unlikely to accomplish such a feat with them. He made a note.
"Your final test, cloak yourself, using your psi powers," he added the last part hastily, almost fearful of what the child would improvise if not coordinated properly. The child stood there, deep in its focus as its outline blurred and gently wavered, enough to conceal it only in very poor conditions and not in any sort of haste. Another note was added to the sheet. With the thing's weak abilities there was little purpose in any further testing, the strain was likely to kill it although the end result of the examination may be the same regardless.
"You are dismissed, you are to return to your quarters with these guards. Your testing is over." A flash and the hungry look returned, the strength of will fled its frame and he sagged and stood without any sort of resolution.
"Didn't you hear me? I ordered you to return to your quarters." Neither response nor motion volunteered itself and the hunger continued unabated, no longer willing to retreat before such petty orders. Eventually the examiner called the two guards to take it away. The creature's frail form was lifted between the burly men and taken out of the chamber.
The examiner thought for a moment. Despite the weak psychic abilities (due to a damper malfunction perhaps?) the thing undoubtedly possessed the talent and therefore must be treated as a ghost but as to whether it should continue its training or be disposed of was a difficult question. Ultimately he held the final say unless command choose to overrule him, a symbol perhaps of how much humanity feared the psychics in its midst. Despite his misgiving, the examiner had to take into account the child's distinguishing physical and covert abilities and, therefore, passed it, giving warning that mental problems were present and psychological techniques must be applied in order to overcome these.
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As he was dragged back to his quarters the child, who knew himself only by a name others called him, tried to savour the fleeting feeling of knowing purpose.
Whoa, some really good posts here. I'm sorry, I got carried away and this is possibly the longest post in human history. Hope its captivating enough so at least one person reads it all.
The first thing that struck Darcy about the place was not the cold, recycled air, not the faceless, intimidating soldiers and not the haggard face of the Commander ? it was that there was other children with him. He thought he would be trained alone in this huge base, and that he was unique, the only one selected for the program. He grumbled lowly to himself. All of his life, he had been average and nothing more ? sometimes less. Why would it be any different after he'd been taken away? Darcy was angry with himself for thinking it would all change when he left his home and school. The others started to move in file behind the soldiers, and Darcy was pulled out of his spiral of anger and frustration as they started to walk.
Metal corridors. Rivets, hallways, closed doors. Men with rifles standing at attention, men with clipboards hurrying up and down. How did the soldiers know where they were going? The place was a brightly lit steel maze, with no signs or landmarks to tell where they were. Just as Darcy was about to tap one of the soldiers on the shoulder and ask, they made a right turn through a door. There was a table and a few grey chairs around the walls, and a medium-sized picture of a Terran soldier grasping a flagpole, with the flag of the Terran Confederacy flying above a battlefield. This stuck in Darcy's churning mind ? the royal blue of the flag was the first piece of colour he had seen in the entire military installation. The soldiers stood by the wall, instantly standing to attention, and a new man came into the room. Darcy's jaw dropped slightly.
The man had no place on the base, no place in the entire military. He was balding, but more than made up for it with a sizeable brown beard. He was wearing a yellow and green jersey that was a little too small, and corduroy trousers that were a little too big. He had a pair of spectacles on which made his eyes appear cartoonishly large. Darcy stifled a giggle, while one of the other children didn't quite manage that much. The man spent a second looking through a manila folder he had carried in under his arm, and then stepped in front of the children.
?Hello there. I'm Doctor Berkham, and you'll probably see me around more often as you carry on through your training. At the moment, I'm just here to ask each of you a couple of questions. Alright? OK. First up, I'd like a word with...? Darcy took a seat while another of the children followed the doctor into a side room. His mid was still mulling over what this place, and the fact that there were others like him here, meant. Was the government purposefully picking up average kids to question, or was there something more? He had no idea what he was actually meant to do here ? except for that it had to be better than home and school. Darcy looked up, and the child that had been called in to the room was leaving. There was a look of shock on his face, of a horror not quite comprehended. The leaving child mumbled, ?Darcy... Trinh?? before shuffling to where one of the soldiers was motioning. Darcy got to his feet and passed through into Berkham's testing room.
The doctor's face was open and greeting. Though Darcy was mildly angry, not to mention confused about at the whole program, the doctor's face instantly quelled these emotions. He was so friendly, so happy against the blandest backdrop in creation. Berkham motioned to a clear plastic chair, and Darcy took a seat. He began with a warm handshake.
?So, Darcy, I understand you've wilfully left home to be here? That can be hard, I know. I left home at a young age as well, for a not too dissimilar reason to you. I was... well, I'll tell you all about it later. For now, you must be missing your family, yes?? Darcy nodded his head slightly, not because he wanted to see his parents, but because he knew he was supposed to miss them. Berkham got up from his chair and knelt down in front of Darcy, getting to his level. He looked him in the eye and placed a hand on Darcy's shoulder, squeezing it. ?That's alright. I... I don't normally do this, it's against protocol. But I get this strange feeling from you. You're special. While you're here, I want you to think of me as your friend. I know exactly what you're going through ? I've sat in the same seat as you, an age ago. I know how hard it is, and I know that I won't let anything bad happen to you.? Berkham's smile seemed to be getting bigger and bigger as he gave his obviously practised speech, as though he knew something Darcy didn't. Hell, he probably knew a lot Darcy didn't, but that was beside the point.
Berkham smiled again, and returned to his seat. He gave Darcy a knowing smile, and Darcy tried to return one. Something wasn't right about this doctor, but Darcy couldn't quite pin it down. Berkham picked up his folder from a side table, and flipped to a page. ?OK, to official business then. Do you often feel angry?? Berkham asked a few more questions, and Darcy answered with either a silent nod, or a silent shake of the head. This wasn't right, something was meant to be ?
The door was kicked in with a bang. Berkham stood up with a start, knocking his chair to the floor. One of the soldiers strode through the wreckage that used to be a doorframe, walking straight up to Berkham. He drew back, and unleashed a bone-crunching uppercut to the doctor's jaw. He followed up with a hook to the kidney. Berkham crumpled to the floor, whimpering. The soldier scythed a couple of vicious kicks to his chest and stomach, ignoring the moans and muffled whimpers of the doctor. Slowly, the faceless soldier pulled a large pistol from his armour. He turned to look directly in the eyes of Darcy, and placed the pistol's barrel against Berkham's head. Still staring into Darcy's soul, he squeezed the trigger. The report ricocheted around the room, all but deafening the child. Berkham slumped to the floor, half of his head painted across the floor and wall. More quickly than Darcy thought possible, a pool of dark red blood flowed across the tiles. It lapped against his feet, as it spread towards the door.
As the scene unfolded before him, Darcy's feet remained rooted to the floor. He couldn't move, couldn't say anything, couldn't attack the soldier - but he could think. His brain was ticking over at such a rate that everything seemed to move in slow motion, and Darcy planned what he would do if he was able to move. It was a familiar sensation, if a bad one, of knowing how to do something but being unable to actually do it. The feeling might have been fear, shock, panic - it didn't matter. Whatever it was, it had stopped Darcy from saving the only man he knew here from a horrific death. He tried as hard as he could to look staunch, and promised that as soon as the soldier turned his back, Darcy would do... something.
The soldier holstered his pistol and walked to Darcy. In a gruff voice made tinny through his helmet, he told Darcy, ?say nothing. Walk out the door, and send in the next child. A... Craid, Jonathan Craid. Send him in please.? Darcy stumbled, blood making footprints that followed him, accusing him for doing nothing. What had just happened? Why had the soldier... Berkham, the only man he knew here... Darcy stopped for a second in the doorway, collecting himself because he didn't want to look weak in front of the others. As he took a step onto the blue carpet, he turned around to catch a last glimpse of Berkham's broken and bloody corpse. All he saw was a closed door, same as it had been before Darcy had gone in the room. The two same soldiers stood to attention in the two same positions. ?Uh, Jonathan Craid,? Darcy managed, before heavily sitting down in one of the chairs, head in hands.
Berkham wrote a couple of notes underneath the printed text of Darcy Trinh's case file. He always loved breaking in new Ghosts, and this time was no different. Make 'em like you, and then show you getting killed in front of 'em ? the looks on their faces! Of course, Berkham had done it all through his own Psi skills, the same skills that allowed him entry into the minds of candidates as the scene went ahead. He got inside their brains in the time of extreme stress ? if a Ghost wasn't in his element under stress, he never would be ? and gauged their brain activity, adrenalin, synapse rate and all manner of other things. What Berkham found extraordinary about Trinh after the test was that his mind was going at an unheard of rate, intense brain activity in all parts. Without Psi skills, it would be impossible for a human mind to accommodate all of that activity. The child had to have Psi potential, though without any present external showing. At the same time, however, all of the activity failed to translate into any actions. This would need to be remedied through training over months, years ? but it could be fixed. Berkham scribbled a couple more lines, and then ended with a single, circled word. Ghost.
Marcus awoke early next morning to a knock on the door. Two men, one in a grey uniform and another, the scientist Dr. Steel, wearing his usual white lab coat made his way into the room.
"Marcus, this is Lieutenant Fearson" Dr Steel began with a smile as he introduced the stranger.
"He is here to oversee the third stage of your testing. He's been informed by my superiors that you show some remarkable psychic gifts, gifts that most cadets only display when they reach adolescence...but....well, I have always said that you were special Marcus and the Academy want's you to succeed with your training in mastering these gifts." he paused to look at the Lieutenant who nodded in response to the silent question,
"When your ready, meet us outside. We have a new test for you to run through" Dr. Grey continued as he knelt down to ruffle Marcus's hair. "Don't be too long now!"
Marcus looked at the clock on the wall as the two left his room, the time read as 6:15am!.
but...but I was sleeping! Marcus whispered to himself in angry protest but he knew that cooperating with the academy was the best and only way to avoid a backlash.
Withing minutes, he had donned on his training uniform and was led by two armed guard to a testing room on a higher level of the compound. Marcus had never been on this new level, all of his other tests were done on level four, today though, he was on level six.
The short ride in the elevator was quiet, Marcus had gotten used to keeping his thoughts and comments to himself and he never like the look of the guards anyway to make small talk. Still, he couldn't help but feel curious as he stood before a large metal door marked Distortion Room awaiting for a response to the knock on the door.
"Ah Marcus!, excellent!. Let's not waste any time shall we?. Come in and take a seat" Dr. Steel answered.
The room inside was large, so large that the footsteps echoed when you walked. The floor and ceiling were lit from within with white light and the center of the room boasted a chair. On the far corner, leaning against a wall, was Lieutenant Fearson. His eyes stalked Marcus's every movement.
"Mr. Steel" Marcus began suddenly. "Why isn't there a precognition test today?"
"There will be no more precognition tests for you Marcus" Came the reply, "You have successfully passed that stage of training. Today we are testing your perception skills, now go on, sit on the chair"
Marcus obeyed his order. He didn't like the sound of this new experiment but there was little choice.
"Here put these on your ears" Dr. Steel handed Marcus what apeared to be an intricate set of headphones.
"That device will play out an alternating radio frequency into your brain, the signal will over-stimulate your auditory cortex and will temporarily make you insensitive to audio signals and then...."
"it's will make me deaf?" Marcus cut in shocked
"Only temporarily, child!" Steel said nonchalantly, "you will be fine once the device is taken out of your ears. Also, you will be blindfolded depriving you of your eyesight. This is just so we can test your telepathic and extra sensory perception" he continued patting as he strapped Marcus into the chair.
"Ready?"
Marcus hesitated, "what am I supposed to do?"
Steel smiled. "All in good time, all in good time"
There was a shrill burst of static through Marcus's ears as he placed the headphones and settled back into the seat. A short but sharp stabbing pain surged through his body but almost instantly it disappeared. There was a defining sound of hollowness in his ears, as if all the air in his auditory canal had escaped. He couldn't hear anything. Suddenly, Dr. Steel's smiling faced loomed above in his hands were a thick blindfold. He nodded reassuringly at Marcus before strapping it over his eyes.
The world plunged into darkness. It was like being inside a giant container in the pitch black, no sound, no sight, deprived of warmth and disoriented. Marcus wasn't liking this test when suddenly.
Marcus, if you can hear me raise your right hand.
The voice was coming from inside his head. Marcus shrugged it off as his imagination and struggled in his seat
Marcus, calm down. This is Dr. Steel. I need to know if you can hear my thoughts. Raise your right hand if you can hear this
Marcus was stunned. Dr. Steel was in his head, there was no denying it, he wasn't going crazy. He could actually hear the thoughts of another person. Marcus raised his right hand.
Excellent! came a jubilant voice "Now tell me how many people do you think are in this room besides you?"
"There is only you and the military..."Marcus began but was cut off.
No Marcus, use your senses...how many are there in this room
Marucs was confused. He had no idea what Dr. Steel wanted from him but he was going to try nonetheless. He collected his thoughts for a minute and tried visualizing the room remotely. Nothing came to him. He took a deep breath, and tried picturing himself in the chair, like an outer body experience. He felt a slight glimmer of light coming from a corner of the room. He forced himself to focus more on where his was and those around him.
The darkness suddenly melted away, he was standing in a room, clouded in a slight smoky haze. He looked to his left and he saw himself, strapped to a chair, Dr. Steel hovering about with a clipboard in his hands. The far corner had Lieutenant Fearson but something was different about him. Dr. Steel seemed unaware of Marcus's presence near him but Fearson on the otherhand seemed to be staring right at him, into the soul. Marcus cringed slightly, he was becoming uncertain of what was happening.
He was about to force himself to wake up, when he noticed a shadow move past him. Then another and another. Three shadows, that paced the room silently. Each giving off a slight grey aura of energy as they passed, almost a glimmer in the the smoky haze.
"Five!" he exclaimed suddenly. "There are five people in the room besides me"
There was a pause as Marcus woke up into his world of darkness. He felt the chair been pushed upright, the headphones were removed along with the blindfold. The light from the ceiling and the ground streamed into his eyes.
"Can you hear me, Marcus" came the voice of Dr. Steel into his ears. A look of genuine concern was written on his face.
"Yeah, I'm fine"
"You did good kid!" Lieutenant Fearson spoke for the first time. "Very impressive"
Marcus looked at the man and back at Steel and then around the room. They were still the only ones in the room.
"I saw other...here..in the room" Marcus looked about in a daze.
"Yes you did!" came a new voice.
On the far side of the room three men suddenly materialized. Each were wearing a face mask and were adorned with an intricate suit. They bore strange symbols on their armor and all of them had what appeared to be laser augmented eyes.
"Who are you people?" Marcus turned to look at the newcomers.
"All in good time Marcus!" came Dr. Steel's voice. "You have done well for today's testing. Go now and rest. We'll call you if we need you again"
With that the five men walked off into a corner, talking in hushed whispers while casually glancing at the kid. Marcus didn't have time to process the events that had happened because two guards walked into the room signaled for him to follow. The test was complete, the day was over. Nothing more was going to come out of the day.
"Marcus, this is Lieutenant Fearson" Dr Steel began with a smile as he introduced the stranger.
"He is here to oversee the third stage of your testing. He's been informed by my superiors that you show some remarkable psychic gifts, gifts that most cadets only display when they reach adolescence...but....well, I have always said that you were special Marcus and the Academy want's you to succeed with your training in mastering these gifts." he paused to look at the Lieutenant who nodded in response to the silent question,
"When your ready, meet us outside. We have a new test for you to run through" Dr. Grey continued as he knelt down to ruffle Marcus's hair. "Don't be too long now!"
Marcus looked at the clock on the wall as the two left his room, the time read as 6:15am!.
but...but I was sleeping! Marcus whispered to himself in angry protest but he knew that cooperating with the academy was the best and only way to avoid a backlash.
Withing minutes, he had donned on his training uniform and was led by two armed guard to a testing room on a higher level of the compound. Marcus had never been on this new level, all of his other tests were done on level four, today though, he was on level six.
The short ride in the elevator was quiet, Marcus had gotten used to keeping his thoughts and comments to himself and he never like the look of the guards anyway to make small talk. Still, he couldn't help but feel curious as he stood before a large metal door marked Distortion Room awaiting for a response to the knock on the door.
"Ah Marcus!, excellent!. Let's not waste any time shall we?. Come in and take a seat" Dr. Steel answered.
The room inside was large, so large that the footsteps echoed when you walked. The floor and ceiling were lit from within with white light and the center of the room boasted a chair. On the far corner, leaning against a wall, was Lieutenant Fearson. His eyes stalked Marcus's every movement.
"Mr. Steel" Marcus began suddenly. "Why isn't there a precognition test today?"
"There will be no more precognition tests for you Marcus" Came the reply, "You have successfully passed that stage of training. Today we are testing your perception skills, now go on, sit on the chair"
Marcus obeyed his order. He didn't like the sound of this new experiment but there was little choice.
"Here put these on your ears" Dr. Steel handed Marcus what apeared to be an intricate set of headphones.
"That device will play out an alternating radio frequency into your brain, the signal will over-stimulate your auditory cortex and will temporarily make you insensitive to audio signals and then...."
"it's will make me deaf?" Marcus cut in shocked
"Only temporarily, child!" Steel said nonchalantly, "you will be fine once the device is taken out of your ears. Also, you will be blindfolded depriving you of your eyesight. This is just so we can test your telepathic and extra sensory perception" he continued patting as he strapped Marcus into the chair.
"Ready?"
Marcus hesitated, "what am I supposed to do?"
Steel smiled. "All in good time, all in good time"
There was a shrill burst of static through Marcus's ears as he placed the headphones and settled back into the seat. A short but sharp stabbing pain surged through his body but almost instantly it disappeared. There was a defining sound of hollowness in his ears, as if all the air in his auditory canal had escaped. He couldn't hear anything. Suddenly, Dr. Steel's smiling faced loomed above in his hands were a thick blindfold. He nodded reassuringly at Marcus before strapping it over his eyes.
The world plunged into darkness. It was like being inside a giant container in the pitch black, no sound, no sight, deprived of warmth and disoriented. Marcus wasn't liking this test when suddenly.
Marcus, if you can hear me raise your right hand.
The voice was coming from inside his head. Marcus shrugged it off as his imagination and struggled in his seat
Marcus, calm down. This is Dr. Steel. I need to know if you can hear my thoughts. Raise your right hand if you can hear this
Marcus was stunned. Dr. Steel was in his head, there was no denying it, he wasn't going crazy. He could actually hear the thoughts of another person. Marcus raised his right hand.
Excellent! came a jubilant voice "Now tell me how many people do you think are in this room besides you?"
"There is only you and the military..."Marcus began but was cut off.
No Marcus, use your senses...how many are there in this room
Marucs was confused. He had no idea what Dr. Steel wanted from him but he was going to try nonetheless. He collected his thoughts for a minute and tried visualizing the room remotely. Nothing came to him. He took a deep breath, and tried picturing himself in the chair, like an outer body experience. He felt a slight glimmer of light coming from a corner of the room. He forced himself to focus more on where his was and those around him.
The darkness suddenly melted away, he was standing in a room, clouded in a slight smoky haze. He looked to his left and he saw himself, strapped to a chair, Dr. Steel hovering about with a clipboard in his hands. The far corner had Lieutenant Fearson but something was different about him. Dr. Steel seemed unaware of Marcus's presence near him but Fearson on the otherhand seemed to be staring right at him, into the soul. Marcus cringed slightly, he was becoming uncertain of what was happening.
He was about to force himself to wake up, when he noticed a shadow move past him. Then another and another. Three shadows, that paced the room silently. Each giving off a slight grey aura of energy as they passed, almost a glimmer in the the smoky haze.
"Five!" he exclaimed suddenly. "There are five people in the room besides me"
There was a pause as Marcus woke up into his world of darkness. He felt the chair been pushed upright, the headphones were removed along with the blindfold. The light from the ceiling and the ground streamed into his eyes.
"Can you hear me, Marcus" came the voice of Dr. Steel into his ears. A look of genuine concern was written on his face.
"Yeah, I'm fine"
"You did good kid!" Lieutenant Fearson spoke for the first time. "Very impressive"
Marcus looked at the man and back at Steel and then around the room. They were still the only ones in the room.
"I saw other...here..in the room" Marcus looked about in a daze.
"Yes you did!" came a new voice.
On the far side of the room three men suddenly materialized. Each were wearing a face mask and were adorned with an intricate suit. They bore strange symbols on their armor and all of them had what appeared to be laser augmented eyes.
"Who are you people?" Marcus turned to look at the newcomers.
"All in good time Marcus!" came Dr. Steel's voice. "You have done well for today's testing. Go now and rest. We'll call you if we need you again"
With that the five men walked off into a corner, talking in hushed whispers while casually glancing at the kid. Marcus didn't have time to process the events that had happened because two guards walked into the room signaled for him to follow. The test was complete, the day was over. Nothing more was going to come out of the day.
As the commander's cold, hollow voice trailed to a stop, Sam's pulse started to race. The things he had said frightened her, and brought up unwanted memories. The type of memories a person tries to block out.
She had heard of services that could make you forget things, but she didn't know if that was something she'd want to consider. As much as those events pained her, they also made her who she was. They made her stronger, and warned her of the dangers of the real world, but at the same time took away her innocence. She thought it would be impossible to ever be truly happy.
Since she arrived at the facility, she'd kept quiet and to herself. Trying not to talk to others, and trying to be left alone. She feared being asked questions about her and her past. She'd avoid it as long as she could.
Pushing herself up and off the ground, she followed the marines down the narrow corridor. The corridor was small, and extremely dark. Almost hugging the marine she silently followed him. There were many doors smeared onto the wall, with fancy little plates stating the room. Most of the plates seemed to state that the room was an office belonging to a doctor.
She hadn't liked doctors.
Almost at the end of the hall, the marines came to an abrupt stop. Turning almost mechanically they pushed open a door to her left. The nameplate read "Doctor. Deshner".
The room was almost blindingly bright to Sam's unadjusted eyes. The walls were painted with happy pictures of things such as Zebras and Kangaroos. There was even one of those corny pictures of a sun with sunglasses on. In the right corner was a television playing a kid's show. In the left corner was a small round table with stacks of paper on it. There were two chairs there, one on each side.
Sighing in relief at the happy looking room, Sam noticed the woman in the middle of the room. She was sitting on a stool with her legs crossed over one another. She was wearing a short black skirt, and a button up white tee. Long curly black hair brushed up against her shoulders. She had black rectangular glasses shielding her emerald green eyes.
"Hi!" She exclamed, as she hopped off the stool and ran towards Sam. Grabbing Sam's hand, she dragged her off into the left corner of the room, and sat Sam down in one of the chairs. Turning around, Sam saw the marines slam the door shut and walk away.
"My name is Pam Deshner, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. I've been told your name is Samantha, is that correct?" She asked, still overcome with what seemed to be joy.
"Please call me Sam"
"All right Sam. I've been reading up on your history. From what it says here, I understand that you were sexually abused when you still resided with your father. Is that correct?"
Sam solemnly nodded.
"What all happened there?"
"I'd prefer not to talk about it." Sam muttered.
"All right that's fine. I understand that must have been hard on you and you'd like to keep it locked away. Can you tell me about the night you...broke free?"
"Broke free?"
"Yes, when you shoved him out the window."
"Oh." Sam leaned back against her chair and sighed. Squinting her eyes, she thought back to that night. Her eye's shot wide open wide, and she began to recite the night as if it had just happened.
"I had been reading in my room, when I heard the locks start to jingle. My father had arrived home from work. The smell of alcohol and vodka spread through the house like a poison. Slurring his words, I heard him crash into things and glass falling and shattering on the ground. Starting to cry, I heard the noises get louder and louder. I knew where he was going. Jumping off of my bed I ran and grabbed my chair. Pushing it I shoved it underneath my door knob, and between my dresser, hoping it would work as a make shift lock. Sprinting back, I dug through my dresser for clothes. I had my school clothes still on. My father enrolled me in a private school, and the uniform I had to wear was made of a skirt and a short sleeve button up, kinda like the one your wearing. Trying to make the inevitable harder, I quickly pulled the skirt down and stepped out of it." Sam's breathing started to increase, and her words gradually became louder and louder.
"I ran into my closet and tore a pair of tight blue jeans off a hanger. Hopping into those, I grabbed a belt and put it on, tightening it as tight as I could. Fumbling around in the dim lighted closet, I searched for my jackets when I heard his voice. 'Daddies home!' he screamed, and it sounded like he was right outside my door. Jumping over knocked over clothing, I sprawled onto the floor and crawled under my bed. I watched the door knob jingle and turn, and saw the door try and fling open. My chair only let it open a few inches. 'Honey why'dja go and du sumthing as sally as that?" he said, slurring his words. I could taste the alcohol every time he spoke. He was drunker that usual. 'Dadday just wants to give you a hug ello afta a hards day's work!' Crying I tried to keep silent, as he called for me to open the door. A moment of silence passed before I heard his voice scream again. 'Open the door you fucking whore!' I stayed silent, and heard him belch, and his heavy footsteps stomp against the ground in retreat." Sam stopped for a moment to breath. She had been speaking almost nonstop and without a break.
"After a few minutes, I crawled out and looked through the crack under my door. I saw nothing. Sighing I got back up on my bed and returned to reading. About 10 minutes later I heard his footsteps again, and a large crash. Turning my head at the door, I saw an axe head come crashing down on the chair. He continued swinging it down, destroying the chair, while talking dirty to me. Screaming I started to cry and wish for it all to go away. Finally the chair was separated into hundreds of different pieces and his face peaked through the door, glaring at me. Chuckling he dropped the axe and approached me. I scrambled backwards off my bed, and tried desperately to pull the bars off the window, but I failed at that too, just like how I fail at everything else." Pausing Sam finally broke down and tears started to rapidly flow from her eyes.
"Do I have to continue?" She asked sorrowfully.
"Well I think so. We seem to be near the only part I care about."
Sorrowfully she continued. "Pressing my body against the wall I begged him to leave me alone for just one night. My body still ached from his activities the night before. Laughing he whispered 'No' and rushed towards me. He gripped me by my hair and tossed me onto my bed. Placing his hands around my neck, he pressured me down against the bed. He put his hands on my jean's zipper, and pulled it straight down, exposing me to him. He continued to cut and tear off all of my lower clothing. When he was pleased with his work, he started to unbuckle his belt when something strange happened. I... I just screamed. I screamed liked a harpy, louder than anything I ever heard of before. I then saw him shoot backwards and into the window. He broke through the bars, and shattered the window. The glass shattered spraying over the room like a rain. He fell and landed in the backyard. His body was covered in blood and shattered glass." Sighing in relief that she was done with this terrifying memory, Sam asked "Is that enough for you?" as she finished crying and wiping her eyes.
Slowly clapping her hands, Pam began speaking again, astonished. "Bravo. You told the story magnificently, almost as if it just happened. Now is that the only time you've ever used your Powers?"
"Yes."
"Well we need to make you more effective. Help you harness your powers. Expose your maximum potential. I want to show you something."
Pam stood off and started to walk towards the door, motioning Sam to follow. Sam hopped out of her chair and ran towards Pam, gripping her hand. Pushing open the door, Pam lead Sam back into the hall. They went to the very end of the hall, and Pam opened the door.
The room was pitch black. Sam couldn't see a thing, but she heard the rumble of a human voice. The voice was low and groggy, and whoever was speaking smelt like death.
"Are you here to release me?" He muttered.
Pam laughed and turned the lights on. After Sam's eyes adjusted to the light, Sam realized who the man was. It was her father. He had on a torn undershirt, and ripped up jeans. His body was covered in grime and dirt. Bruises littered his body, and he hadn't shaved in a while.
"Sam! Honey! I'm so glad to see you!" Her father exclaimed. "I was so worried I'd never see you again. Jesus this is a dream come true."
"This man has caused you more pain than should ever happen to a child. I want you to take your revenge. Make him suffer the way he made you suffer!" Pam screamed, as she pulled a gun out of her jacket. She placed it in Sam's small, delicate hands and winked at her.
The gun was black, and felt cold and heavy in Sam's hands. She kept it pointed at the ground, and stared at her father. "You were worried you'd never see me again?" Sam asked, "Why? You never showed me any compassion. All you did was cause pain."
"Honey that was a mistake! I never truly meant to hurt you. I thought you may enjoy it the same way I did. You know I love you, and I loved the bonding we had! We were closer that most people are with their children."
"Closer? You know nothing about me!"
"That's a lie."
"Really? Tell me what color my eyes are." Sam demanded, as she pushed her hands to her eyes.
"Umm..." He stuttered, "Brown right?"
"They are blue, you asshole."
Rage started to burn through Sam's veins. All the hatred she had for the man started to come out. Looking at her father she held the gun up. She pointed it at her father, holding it as high as she could, aiming at his head.
BLAM
She fired, and the recoil knocked her on her ass. Picking herself up, she looked at her father, still standing there in one piece laughing at her.
"You can't kill me. No, you won't kill me, because you can't. You are just to, fucking, weak."
Sam backed up against the wall, pushing her wait against it, she lowered her aim to his chest, and closer her eyes.
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM
Opening her eyes, she saw smoke flaring up from the barrel of the gun. Her father's head was slumped over with five holes in his chest. Smoke emitted from each, with blood trickling down. Sam started to cry and dropped the gun, and Pam slowly patted her on the back.
"Its okay. You can finally let the pain he caused you die." And with that, Pam pushed the door open and led Sam back to the other recruits.
She had heard of services that could make you forget things, but she didn't know if that was something she'd want to consider. As much as those events pained her, they also made her who she was. They made her stronger, and warned her of the dangers of the real world, but at the same time took away her innocence. She thought it would be impossible to ever be truly happy.
Since she arrived at the facility, she'd kept quiet and to herself. Trying not to talk to others, and trying to be left alone. She feared being asked questions about her and her past. She'd avoid it as long as she could.
Pushing herself up and off the ground, she followed the marines down the narrow corridor. The corridor was small, and extremely dark. Almost hugging the marine she silently followed him. There were many doors smeared onto the wall, with fancy little plates stating the room. Most of the plates seemed to state that the room was an office belonging to a doctor.
She hadn't liked doctors.
Almost at the end of the hall, the marines came to an abrupt stop. Turning almost mechanically they pushed open a door to her left. The nameplate read "Doctor. Deshner".
The room was almost blindingly bright to Sam's unadjusted eyes. The walls were painted with happy pictures of things such as Zebras and Kangaroos. There was even one of those corny pictures of a sun with sunglasses on. In the right corner was a television playing a kid's show. In the left corner was a small round table with stacks of paper on it. There were two chairs there, one on each side.
Sighing in relief at the happy looking room, Sam noticed the woman in the middle of the room. She was sitting on a stool with her legs crossed over one another. She was wearing a short black skirt, and a button up white tee. Long curly black hair brushed up against her shoulders. She had black rectangular glasses shielding her emerald green eyes.
"Hi!" She exclamed, as she hopped off the stool and ran towards Sam. Grabbing Sam's hand, she dragged her off into the left corner of the room, and sat Sam down in one of the chairs. Turning around, Sam saw the marines slam the door shut and walk away.
"My name is Pam Deshner, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. I've been told your name is Samantha, is that correct?" She asked, still overcome with what seemed to be joy.
"Please call me Sam"
"All right Sam. I've been reading up on your history. From what it says here, I understand that you were sexually abused when you still resided with your father. Is that correct?"
Sam solemnly nodded.
"What all happened there?"
"I'd prefer not to talk about it." Sam muttered.
"All right that's fine. I understand that must have been hard on you and you'd like to keep it locked away. Can you tell me about the night you...broke free?"
"Broke free?"
"Yes, when you shoved him out the window."
"Oh." Sam leaned back against her chair and sighed. Squinting her eyes, she thought back to that night. Her eye's shot wide open wide, and she began to recite the night as if it had just happened.
"I had been reading in my room, when I heard the locks start to jingle. My father had arrived home from work. The smell of alcohol and vodka spread through the house like a poison. Slurring his words, I heard him crash into things and glass falling and shattering on the ground. Starting to cry, I heard the noises get louder and louder. I knew where he was going. Jumping off of my bed I ran and grabbed my chair. Pushing it I shoved it underneath my door knob, and between my dresser, hoping it would work as a make shift lock. Sprinting back, I dug through my dresser for clothes. I had my school clothes still on. My father enrolled me in a private school, and the uniform I had to wear was made of a skirt and a short sleeve button up, kinda like the one your wearing. Trying to make the inevitable harder, I quickly pulled the skirt down and stepped out of it." Sam's breathing started to increase, and her words gradually became louder and louder.
"I ran into my closet and tore a pair of tight blue jeans off a hanger. Hopping into those, I grabbed a belt and put it on, tightening it as tight as I could. Fumbling around in the dim lighted closet, I searched for my jackets when I heard his voice. 'Daddies home!' he screamed, and it sounded like he was right outside my door. Jumping over knocked over clothing, I sprawled onto the floor and crawled under my bed. I watched the door knob jingle and turn, and saw the door try and fling open. My chair only let it open a few inches. 'Honey why'dja go and du sumthing as sally as that?" he said, slurring his words. I could taste the alcohol every time he spoke. He was drunker that usual. 'Dadday just wants to give you a hug ello afta a hards day's work!' Crying I tried to keep silent, as he called for me to open the door. A moment of silence passed before I heard his voice scream again. 'Open the door you fucking whore!' I stayed silent, and heard him belch, and his heavy footsteps stomp against the ground in retreat." Sam stopped for a moment to breath. She had been speaking almost nonstop and without a break.
"After a few minutes, I crawled out and looked through the crack under my door. I saw nothing. Sighing I got back up on my bed and returned to reading. About 10 minutes later I heard his footsteps again, and a large crash. Turning my head at the door, I saw an axe head come crashing down on the chair. He continued swinging it down, destroying the chair, while talking dirty to me. Screaming I started to cry and wish for it all to go away. Finally the chair was separated into hundreds of different pieces and his face peaked through the door, glaring at me. Chuckling he dropped the axe and approached me. I scrambled backwards off my bed, and tried desperately to pull the bars off the window, but I failed at that too, just like how I fail at everything else." Pausing Sam finally broke down and tears started to rapidly flow from her eyes.
"Do I have to continue?" She asked sorrowfully.
"Well I think so. We seem to be near the only part I care about."
Sorrowfully she continued. "Pressing my body against the wall I begged him to leave me alone for just one night. My body still ached from his activities the night before. Laughing he whispered 'No' and rushed towards me. He gripped me by my hair and tossed me onto my bed. Placing his hands around my neck, he pressured me down against the bed. He put his hands on my jean's zipper, and pulled it straight down, exposing me to him. He continued to cut and tear off all of my lower clothing. When he was pleased with his work, he started to unbuckle his belt when something strange happened. I... I just screamed. I screamed liked a harpy, louder than anything I ever heard of before. I then saw him shoot backwards and into the window. He broke through the bars, and shattered the window. The glass shattered spraying over the room like a rain. He fell and landed in the backyard. His body was covered in blood and shattered glass." Sighing in relief that she was done with this terrifying memory, Sam asked "Is that enough for you?" as she finished crying and wiping her eyes.
Slowly clapping her hands, Pam began speaking again, astonished. "Bravo. You told the story magnificently, almost as if it just happened. Now is that the only time you've ever used your Powers?"
"Yes."
"Well we need to make you more effective. Help you harness your powers. Expose your maximum potential. I want to show you something."
Pam stood off and started to walk towards the door, motioning Sam to follow. Sam hopped out of her chair and ran towards Pam, gripping her hand. Pushing open the door, Pam lead Sam back into the hall. They went to the very end of the hall, and Pam opened the door.
The room was pitch black. Sam couldn't see a thing, but she heard the rumble of a human voice. The voice was low and groggy, and whoever was speaking smelt like death.
"Are you here to release me?" He muttered.
Pam laughed and turned the lights on. After Sam's eyes adjusted to the light, Sam realized who the man was. It was her father. He had on a torn undershirt, and ripped up jeans. His body was covered in grime and dirt. Bruises littered his body, and he hadn't shaved in a while.
"Sam! Honey! I'm so glad to see you!" Her father exclaimed. "I was so worried I'd never see you again. Jesus this is a dream come true."
"This man has caused you more pain than should ever happen to a child. I want you to take your revenge. Make him suffer the way he made you suffer!" Pam screamed, as she pulled a gun out of her jacket. She placed it in Sam's small, delicate hands and winked at her.
The gun was black, and felt cold and heavy in Sam's hands. She kept it pointed at the ground, and stared at her father. "You were worried you'd never see me again?" Sam asked, "Why? You never showed me any compassion. All you did was cause pain."
"Honey that was a mistake! I never truly meant to hurt you. I thought you may enjoy it the same way I did. You know I love you, and I loved the bonding we had! We were closer that most people are with their children."
"Closer? You know nothing about me!"
"That's a lie."
"Really? Tell me what color my eyes are." Sam demanded, as she pushed her hands to her eyes.
"Umm..." He stuttered, "Brown right?"
"They are blue, you asshole."
Rage started to burn through Sam's veins. All the hatred she had for the man started to come out. Looking at her father she held the gun up. She pointed it at her father, holding it as high as she could, aiming at his head.
BLAM
She fired, and the recoil knocked her on her ass. Picking herself up, she looked at her father, still standing there in one piece laughing at her.
"You can't kill me. No, you won't kill me, because you can't. You are just to, fucking, weak."
Sam backed up against the wall, pushing her wait against it, she lowered her aim to his chest, and closer her eyes.
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM
Opening her eyes, she saw smoke flaring up from the barrel of the gun. Her father's head was slumped over with five holes in his chest. Smoke emitted from each, with blood trickling down. Sam started to cry and dropped the gun, and Pam slowly patted her on the back.
"Its okay. You can finally let the pain he caused you die." And with that, Pam pushed the door open and led Sam back to the other recruits.
Trent was uneasy and yet excited. It's a weird mix of emotions, but the guards knew they were misplaced. At least in the excitement department, that wouldn't last long.
Trent always enjoyed using his psi powers, and he hoped that this ?ghost program? would therefore further his abilities, teach him more effective ways of using them. The guard hurried him through what seemed like dozens of blank hallways, not allowing him to stop. Trent walked past several doors with interesting, yet somewhat ominous, names. He wanted to know what happened behind the door labelled ?implants?. Could it improve his powers? Or maybe he could explore the room labelled ?Breakthrough? They all really interested him, even though he didn't know what happened, he wanted to know. At least he thought he did, when he finds out the truth his mind will change.
Suddenly the soldier stopped, and Trent walked, absent mindedly, into the soldiers leg. ?Watch where you're going, you stupid brat!? the soldier spat out.
?Sorry sir, I didn't mean it? Trent was extremely respectful of his elders. He was polite and naïve. The soldier almost felt sorry for him. He had seen kids like Trent often, and they usually never lasted more than a couple of weeks. The soldier knew that Trent would break like the rest of them, it was just a matter of time. The only thing up for debate was whether he died, or was just mentally broken by it. For Trent's sake he hoped it was death.
The door they had stopped at was labelled ?examination?. Not very interesting, it would seem. Trent has always hated exams, so the door didn't fill him with hope. He would soon learn not to take everything at face value. The soldier knocked on the door, shouted ?new recruit, 04617, ready for exam number 12? Then the soldier briskly walked away, before the Doctor opened the door. Even the soldiers feared Dr. Deval, he was a loathsome creature, barely human, twisted by years of hatred and cruelty. Deval wasn't his original name, he had changed it. It was a way of amusing himself, he still struggled to contain a laugh when the children addressed him by it. He opened the door viciously, to see a rather well built 10 year old standing there, looking bored. That was about to change.
?In! Now!? Deval barked at Trent. ?What's your name, boy?? asked Deval, although it wasn't so much a question as an order. Only once had a child ignored that ice cold request. The boy had barely lasted 30 minutes before going insane, loosing control of his Psi powers, at which point Deval had ?put him down?. ?Trent, sir. Trent Blisk? answered Trent, timidly. ?No, I am not Sir, you will only address me as Dr. Deval, and god forbid you forget!? Deval had a way of instilling an icy chill into even the most resilient person, and Trent was no different. A shiver went down his spine, and he wanted to leave.
?Want to leave already, eh? Haha, you are weak, pathetic. You might be physically strong, but you're mentally weak, naïve, easily led.? said Dr. Deval, ?I think this might be fun. Time to start the exam?
Deval started to probe into the mind of Trent, to test his defences. He was surprised to find them to be fairly good. However they were no match for Deval's psi prowess, and within a minute he had access to all of Trent's memories, all of his emotions, everything. He immediately picked out all his weaknesses. ?Scared of spiders, are you?? Deval said.
?Yes, Dr. Deval? replied Trent. Then suddenly a vicious slap landed on his face, causing him to slide across the floor. Trent tried his hardest to avoid crying, and only just managed avoid it.
?You don't answer rhetorical questions, you moron!?
Then the room started to fill with spiders. Trent screamed, trying to compose himself, but failing utterly.
?Stop being a whiny *****!? Shouted Duval, ?fight the fear, get rid of the spiders. If you can resist the urge to run away, you can prove that you might not be sompletely useless.?
Trent steadied himself, trying to figure out a way out. He started, firstly probing, seeing what he could do in his stressed state. First he flung a couple of single spiders, one at a time. Then eventually he started throwing them en-mass, then crushing them with other items in the room. Eventually they were all dead.
?2 minutes 37 seconds, not bad, but not good. My image implantation isn't as powerful as real events, so I'm going to have to have some more time to work on you, to make you stronger. Or too break you, and I know which I prefer? said Deval. The malicious note in his voice made Trent wince. He was terrified. He had never met someone with such a demeanour, such a terrible, evil personality. Trent regretted wanting to join the ghost program, and it hadn't even started yet.
Deval was sad to see that Trent had to leave for the second part of his exam, he always did want to go further with the new recruits. The test had rules, and even Deval couldn't go against them, not if he wanted to keep this job. And he certainly did, because although for now Trent was leaving, he would see him soon. And then he could do more, and it wouldn't be as limited as simply using a fear simulation.
Trent went to the ?Scan Bay?, where he told he was just going to have a brain wave scan. Dr. Predd awaited him there. Predd was much kinder than Deval, although that didn't really say much about him, basically anyone was kinder than Deval.
?Could you please lie on that table for me? Said Dr. Predd. ?Don't worry, I'm just going to scan some brain waves, see how you are?
?Okay? Trent, said as he lay down.
This part of the test was fairly simple. As Predd watched the scan results he asked Trent some basic questions, mathematics, language, very innocuous questions, just to see the result.
It appeared that Trent's brain worked very well, synapses firing well. Some moral question also showed that he was good at heart, but many of the recruits where. To begin with. The conditioning stopped that, they couldn't allow soft hearted Ghosts, it wouldn't be helpful. Just a quick demonstration of his Psi powers later and Dr Predd was ready to let Trent leave, so he could analyse the results.
?Rest up Trent, tomorrow is going to be a busy day for you?
Trent always enjoyed using his psi powers, and he hoped that this ?ghost program? would therefore further his abilities, teach him more effective ways of using them. The guard hurried him through what seemed like dozens of blank hallways, not allowing him to stop. Trent walked past several doors with interesting, yet somewhat ominous, names. He wanted to know what happened behind the door labelled ?implants?. Could it improve his powers? Or maybe he could explore the room labelled ?Breakthrough? They all really interested him, even though he didn't know what happened, he wanted to know. At least he thought he did, when he finds out the truth his mind will change.
Suddenly the soldier stopped, and Trent walked, absent mindedly, into the soldiers leg. ?Watch where you're going, you stupid brat!? the soldier spat out.
?Sorry sir, I didn't mean it? Trent was extremely respectful of his elders. He was polite and naïve. The soldier almost felt sorry for him. He had seen kids like Trent often, and they usually never lasted more than a couple of weeks. The soldier knew that Trent would break like the rest of them, it was just a matter of time. The only thing up for debate was whether he died, or was just mentally broken by it. For Trent's sake he hoped it was death.
The door they had stopped at was labelled ?examination?. Not very interesting, it would seem. Trent has always hated exams, so the door didn't fill him with hope. He would soon learn not to take everything at face value. The soldier knocked on the door, shouted ?new recruit, 04617, ready for exam number 12? Then the soldier briskly walked away, before the Doctor opened the door. Even the soldiers feared Dr. Deval, he was a loathsome creature, barely human, twisted by years of hatred and cruelty. Deval wasn't his original name, he had changed it. It was a way of amusing himself, he still struggled to contain a laugh when the children addressed him by it. He opened the door viciously, to see a rather well built 10 year old standing there, looking bored. That was about to change.
?In! Now!? Deval barked at Trent. ?What's your name, boy?? asked Deval, although it wasn't so much a question as an order. Only once had a child ignored that ice cold request. The boy had barely lasted 30 minutes before going insane, loosing control of his Psi powers, at which point Deval had ?put him down?. ?Trent, sir. Trent Blisk? answered Trent, timidly. ?No, I am not Sir, you will only address me as Dr. Deval, and god forbid you forget!? Deval had a way of instilling an icy chill into even the most resilient person, and Trent was no different. A shiver went down his spine, and he wanted to leave.
?Want to leave already, eh? Haha, you are weak, pathetic. You might be physically strong, but you're mentally weak, naïve, easily led.? said Dr. Deval, ?I think this might be fun. Time to start the exam?
Deval started to probe into the mind of Trent, to test his defences. He was surprised to find them to be fairly good. However they were no match for Deval's psi prowess, and within a minute he had access to all of Trent's memories, all of his emotions, everything. He immediately picked out all his weaknesses. ?Scared of spiders, are you?? Deval said.
?Yes, Dr. Deval? replied Trent. Then suddenly a vicious slap landed on his face, causing him to slide across the floor. Trent tried his hardest to avoid crying, and only just managed avoid it.
?You don't answer rhetorical questions, you moron!?
Then the room started to fill with spiders. Trent screamed, trying to compose himself, but failing utterly.
?Stop being a whiny *****!? Shouted Duval, ?fight the fear, get rid of the spiders. If you can resist the urge to run away, you can prove that you might not be sompletely useless.?
Trent steadied himself, trying to figure out a way out. He started, firstly probing, seeing what he could do in his stressed state. First he flung a couple of single spiders, one at a time. Then eventually he started throwing them en-mass, then crushing them with other items in the room. Eventually they were all dead.
?2 minutes 37 seconds, not bad, but not good. My image implantation isn't as powerful as real events, so I'm going to have to have some more time to work on you, to make you stronger. Or too break you, and I know which I prefer? said Deval. The malicious note in his voice made Trent wince. He was terrified. He had never met someone with such a demeanour, such a terrible, evil personality. Trent regretted wanting to join the ghost program, and it hadn't even started yet.
Deval was sad to see that Trent had to leave for the second part of his exam, he always did want to go further with the new recruits. The test had rules, and even Deval couldn't go against them, not if he wanted to keep this job. And he certainly did, because although for now Trent was leaving, he would see him soon. And then he could do more, and it wouldn't be as limited as simply using a fear simulation.
Trent went to the ?Scan Bay?, where he told he was just going to have a brain wave scan. Dr. Predd awaited him there. Predd was much kinder than Deval, although that didn't really say much about him, basically anyone was kinder than Deval.
?Could you please lie on that table for me? Said Dr. Predd. ?Don't worry, I'm just going to scan some brain waves, see how you are?
?Okay? Trent, said as he lay down.
This part of the test was fairly simple. As Predd watched the scan results he asked Trent some basic questions, mathematics, language, very innocuous questions, just to see the result.
It appeared that Trent's brain worked very well, synapses firing well. Some moral question also showed that he was good at heart, but many of the recruits where. To begin with. The conditioning stopped that, they couldn't allow soft hearted Ghosts, it wouldn't be helpful. Just a quick demonstration of his Psi powers later and Dr Predd was ready to let Trent leave, so he could analyse the results.
?Rest up Trent, tomorrow is going to be a busy day for you?
Sorry i left my post so late, especially given i was the one who suggested a shorter time span to post. Was very busy the last week or so, and when i wasn't i was too tired to post anything creative
The two Marines, after taking the other children away, had led John to a small room. The room held only a chair in it: John could see some red patches it. They looked an awful lot like dried blood.
This is it. he thought, almost calmly. There's something wrong with me, and they're going to kill me here.
He had been terrified before... He had had plenty of reasons to be scared, having been ripped away from his father and brought to those strange children who were all WRONG somehow, like him. But the terror had long since passed, and one of his father's pieces of advice had popped into his head:
"John, sometimes you will be thrown into a bad situation that seems impossible to escape. You might want to panic at that point, to give into your fears. Don't let that temptation take over: the last man standing at the end of the day is the one with a cool head on his shoulders."
One of the Marines shoved him unexpectedly: caught off guard, John stumbled forward and fell down next to the chair. He expected it to end then, for one of the Marines to draw his pistol from his holster... but the two men walked outside, the door sliding shut behind them. John got on his feet shakily, his body and mind overwhelmed.
I'm still alive? he thought in disbelief. John had been sure that the man with the chilsed face had been lying about this not being deadly... but he sure didn't mind being wrong.
"SIT DOWN, BE STILL, BE SILENT." a voice boomed from some speakers set in the ceiling. John complied: there wasn't anything else he could do, and the voice sounded impatient. He looked around the room quickly before he sat down though: he needed to get some info about his surroundings. All he could see were the speakers, the door, and some cameras: one in each upper corner of the room.
Someone's watching me? he wondered. But who? And why?
-----------
John felt an immense urge to fidget in his seat, but he managed to resist. Ordinary people wouldn't be able to tell how long they had been in this room, but John had an impeccable sense of inner timing: he'd needed to develop it after his watch broke on the ship. You couldn't use the light of a sun to track the hours when you were in the depths of space, after all.
According to his inner clock, it had been five hours since the voice had given it's only order.
Did they forget about me? John wondered. Or do the tests just take a long time?
He didn't think that they had forgotten about him, as he could hear gravelly voices from beyond the door: the two Marines were standing guard. It had been silent until two hours ago, when the Marines had evidently gotten bored with their duty and had decided to start shooting the breeze. John was glad that they had: he hadn't had anything to do until they had started talking.
"Marines will talk about three things, John: killing Zerg, killing Protoss, and how much the food sucks." His father had been right on the money there: the pair had spoken about nothing else. Still, John had to pay attention: if they let anything useful slip and he wasn't paying attention, he wouldn't have a second chance at the info.
-----------
A short distance away, two men watched John from a set of screens. One was dressed in a white coat, and was obviously a scientist.
The other stood straight up, silently watching the boy on the monitor in front of him. He wore a very strict uniform, with a number prominently diplayed on his arm: C-7093. He hadn't moved for the last five hours either, though the man in the coat hadn't noticed. The scientist was throughly bored: this test was as much as test of his patience as it was on that of the patient.
"Isn't that enough?" the whitecoat asked grumpily. He would much rather proceed to the next part of the tests, the part where HE was the one in charge, and he let his displeasure seep into his voice.
The man in uniform didn't answer verbally: instead he turned slowly to face the scientist, staring directly into his eyes. He didn't speak, but he made the answer clear anyway, and the whitecoat's face turned a sickly color.
The test would go on.
-----------
Two hours later, John's body had begun to burn. He had been sitting still for so long that his muscles were screaming at him to move. His stomach had also roared hungrily: but he had been able to shout it down mentally.
The pain in his arms and legs though: that he couldn't get rid of. Not unless he stood up, and if he did that, what would happen? Was this all a part of the test? What was he supposed to do?
Was he going to die alone, in this room?
That thought hit him hard. Maybe the reason the Marines hadn't shot him was because they didn't want to waste the bullet: they figured that they could just starve him to death like a dog. The panic started to creep up again, and John was having a harder time keeping it down. He tried to focus on his father's advice again, but-
Dad-
He nearly choked then, nearly burst out sobbing... but he managed to pull himself together. If he was going to see his father again, he needed to keep himself focused on the task at hand. But what was that exactly? Escape? he pondered. Fat chance of that. Granted, he'd probably be able to pilot any ship he could get to, but his chances of making it that far were zilch, and he'd get blasted out of the sky even if he made it to that point.
John licked his lips, which had begun to crack a little. The room was too warm for his tastes: he preffered the cold... the ship had been fairly cold because the heating unit would stutter every once in a while.
Compliance? That was his other only option: to do what he was told, and hope that someday he would be allowed to see his father again. But even if he obeyed, he had no guarantee that he would be given what he wanted. Either way, he needed to leave this room. It was starting to unnerve him, with its hanging, oppressive warmth.
It was then that it occured to him. I could use IT. he thought triumphantly. But that thought was just as quickly dismissed. John couldn't control IT: IT controlled him. He'd never used IT by himself.
But he had to try. There was no other option.
Two hours later, he managed to get IT to activate.
-----------
In the other room, the scientist had recovered some of his swagger. It had been nine hours since the start of this ridiculous test, and he was fed up with this. He turned to C-7093, preparing to declare the test over, to find the Ghost standing directly in front of him.
"Do you have something to say?" C-7093 asked him coldly. The scientist's face drained of color again, and he began to turn around.
At that moment, John tapped into his abilities.
-----------
It's dark. he thought. Where am I?
As soon as he thought that, he saw himself. He was sitting on a chair. Everything was in shades of grey: the red splotches he had seen before now blended in with the chair, as if they had never been there in the first place.
As soon as he thought that, color began to seep into his vision. It was sort of runny though, and as he looked to the sides it began to blur, like watching something fly by at high speed.
It'll make do. he thought. He didn't need the ability to be perfect, just functional.
Before he could think about where he should look with IT though, he found himself seeing something from the corners of his new (eyes?): it looked almost like a candle somehow-
-And then he heard someone speak, but it wasn't a REAL voice, it was inside his head-
"Hello, John. I knew you would pass the test. Congratulations."
Before he could wonder who this new voice belonged to, his vision blurred, and everything turned black.
-----------
The whitecoat was turning back to look at the monitors, when he saw the child jerk in his seat, he head snapping back. If he looked closer, he would have noticed that John's eyes had turned from their normal brown color to an electric blue.
"HOLY FUCK!" The man screamed. "He's having a seizure! C, get in there and-"
But when the scientist turned back to look at the Ghost, was he saw astonished him. The man, who he had never seen displaying any sort of emotion, was-
-Smiling? Radiant?
But the expression left the Ghost's face as soon as it arrived. C-7093 turned to the scientist.
"He has passed the test. You may now conduct your experiments, Doctor." he said, in his usual cold voice. "In the meantime, I have a report to file with the Commander."
C-7093 walked out of the room briskly, leaving the Doctor to look, confused, at the monitors.
-----------
Later that day, John's body was put through a battery of tests. Luckily for him, he did not wake up until after the most painful ones had passed.
-----------
This is it. he thought, almost calmly. There's something wrong with me, and they're going to kill me here.
He had been terrified before... He had had plenty of reasons to be scared, having been ripped away from his father and brought to those strange children who were all WRONG somehow, like him. But the terror had long since passed, and one of his father's pieces of advice had popped into his head:
"John, sometimes you will be thrown into a bad situation that seems impossible to escape. You might want to panic at that point, to give into your fears. Don't let that temptation take over: the last man standing at the end of the day is the one with a cool head on his shoulders."
One of the Marines shoved him unexpectedly: caught off guard, John stumbled forward and fell down next to the chair. He expected it to end then, for one of the Marines to draw his pistol from his holster... but the two men walked outside, the door sliding shut behind them. John got on his feet shakily, his body and mind overwhelmed.
I'm still alive? he thought in disbelief. John had been sure that the man with the chilsed face had been lying about this not being deadly... but he sure didn't mind being wrong.
"SIT DOWN, BE STILL, BE SILENT." a voice boomed from some speakers set in the ceiling. John complied: there wasn't anything else he could do, and the voice sounded impatient. He looked around the room quickly before he sat down though: he needed to get some info about his surroundings. All he could see were the speakers, the door, and some cameras: one in each upper corner of the room.
Someone's watching me? he wondered. But who? And why?
-----------
John felt an immense urge to fidget in his seat, but he managed to resist. Ordinary people wouldn't be able to tell how long they had been in this room, but John had an impeccable sense of inner timing: he'd needed to develop it after his watch broke on the ship. You couldn't use the light of a sun to track the hours when you were in the depths of space, after all.
According to his inner clock, it had been five hours since the voice had given it's only order.
Did they forget about me? John wondered. Or do the tests just take a long time?
He didn't think that they had forgotten about him, as he could hear gravelly voices from beyond the door: the two Marines were standing guard. It had been silent until two hours ago, when the Marines had evidently gotten bored with their duty and had decided to start shooting the breeze. John was glad that they had: he hadn't had anything to do until they had started talking.
"Marines will talk about three things, John: killing Zerg, killing Protoss, and how much the food sucks." His father had been right on the money there: the pair had spoken about nothing else. Still, John had to pay attention: if they let anything useful slip and he wasn't paying attention, he wouldn't have a second chance at the info.
-----------
A short distance away, two men watched John from a set of screens. One was dressed in a white coat, and was obviously a scientist.
The other stood straight up, silently watching the boy on the monitor in front of him. He wore a very strict uniform, with a number prominently diplayed on his arm: C-7093. He hadn't moved for the last five hours either, though the man in the coat hadn't noticed. The scientist was throughly bored: this test was as much as test of his patience as it was on that of the patient.
"Isn't that enough?" the whitecoat asked grumpily. He would much rather proceed to the next part of the tests, the part where HE was the one in charge, and he let his displeasure seep into his voice.
The man in uniform didn't answer verbally: instead he turned slowly to face the scientist, staring directly into his eyes. He didn't speak, but he made the answer clear anyway, and the whitecoat's face turned a sickly color.
The test would go on.
-----------
Two hours later, John's body had begun to burn. He had been sitting still for so long that his muscles were screaming at him to move. His stomach had also roared hungrily: but he had been able to shout it down mentally.
The pain in his arms and legs though: that he couldn't get rid of. Not unless he stood up, and if he did that, what would happen? Was this all a part of the test? What was he supposed to do?
Was he going to die alone, in this room?
That thought hit him hard. Maybe the reason the Marines hadn't shot him was because they didn't want to waste the bullet: they figured that they could just starve him to death like a dog. The panic started to creep up again, and John was having a harder time keeping it down. He tried to focus on his father's advice again, but-
Dad-
He nearly choked then, nearly burst out sobbing... but he managed to pull himself together. If he was going to see his father again, he needed to keep himself focused on the task at hand. But what was that exactly? Escape? he pondered. Fat chance of that. Granted, he'd probably be able to pilot any ship he could get to, but his chances of making it that far were zilch, and he'd get blasted out of the sky even if he made it to that point.
John licked his lips, which had begun to crack a little. The room was too warm for his tastes: he preffered the cold... the ship had been fairly cold because the heating unit would stutter every once in a while.
Compliance? That was his other only option: to do what he was told, and hope that someday he would be allowed to see his father again. But even if he obeyed, he had no guarantee that he would be given what he wanted. Either way, he needed to leave this room. It was starting to unnerve him, with its hanging, oppressive warmth.
It was then that it occured to him. I could use IT. he thought triumphantly. But that thought was just as quickly dismissed. John couldn't control IT: IT controlled him. He'd never used IT by himself.
But he had to try. There was no other option.
Two hours later, he managed to get IT to activate.
-----------
In the other room, the scientist had recovered some of his swagger. It had been nine hours since the start of this ridiculous test, and he was fed up with this. He turned to C-7093, preparing to declare the test over, to find the Ghost standing directly in front of him.
"Do you have something to say?" C-7093 asked him coldly. The scientist's face drained of color again, and he began to turn around.
At that moment, John tapped into his abilities.
-----------
It's dark. he thought. Where am I?
As soon as he thought that, he saw himself. He was sitting on a chair. Everything was in shades of grey: the red splotches he had seen before now blended in with the chair, as if they had never been there in the first place.
As soon as he thought that, color began to seep into his vision. It was sort of runny though, and as he looked to the sides it began to blur, like watching something fly by at high speed.
It'll make do. he thought. He didn't need the ability to be perfect, just functional.
Before he could think about where he should look with IT though, he found himself seeing something from the corners of his new (eyes?): it looked almost like a candle somehow-
-And then he heard someone speak, but it wasn't a REAL voice, it was inside his head-
"Hello, John. I knew you would pass the test. Congratulations."
Before he could wonder who this new voice belonged to, his vision blurred, and everything turned black.
-----------
The whitecoat was turning back to look at the monitors, when he saw the child jerk in his seat, he head snapping back. If he looked closer, he would have noticed that John's eyes had turned from their normal brown color to an electric blue.
"HOLY FUCK!" The man screamed. "He's having a seizure! C, get in there and-"
But when the scientist turned back to look at the Ghost, was he saw astonished him. The man, who he had never seen displaying any sort of emotion, was-
-Smiling? Radiant?
But the expression left the Ghost's face as soon as it arrived. C-7093 turned to the scientist.
"He has passed the test. You may now conduct your experiments, Doctor." he said, in his usual cold voice. "In the meantime, I have a report to file with the Commander."
C-7093 walked out of the room briskly, leaving the Doctor to look, confused, at the monitors.
-----------
Later that day, John's body was put through a battery of tests. Luckily for him, he did not wake up until after the most painful ones had passed.
-----------
FROM: GHOST C-7093
TO: COMMANDER
CONCERNING: NEW RECRUIT CRAID, JONATHAN
Craid was able to maintain his composure for nine hours during TEST 46-B. He did not move during this time, in compliance with the orders delivered as part of the test.
Average time subjects last during this time is one hour, thirty minutes. They typicially then give into frustration/boredom and defy orders in an attempt to understand what is happening.
Craid accessed his powers on hour nine of the test in an attempt to bypass the the orders in place. This demonstrates original thinking, and his ability to access the power that would best suit the situation is interesting.
During this time I attempted several times to access his thoughts, but was rebuffed somehow, as if the recruit's mind weren't even there. I do not believe that this was intentional: the recruit somehow possesses a high resistance to psychic intrusion. My attempts to access his mind were likely interpreted as some sort of unpleasant physical sensation (perhaps an itch.) This could prove to be both a boon and a hindrance: it means that his fellow squadmates will be unable to communicate with him telepathically until he gains control over this ability, but it also means that he will be highly resistant to forms of mental torture if he were to be captured.
His patience and psychic solitude make him the perfect assassin/spy. He also seems to have an aptitude for remote veiwing, the power he accessed during the test, which could be used as a tool to gather information for those tasks.
ADDENDUM: Doctor Green has been acting increasingly hostile during these tests towards me. While I do not see this to be a problem, you told me to attach notes on his behavior to this report.
END OF REPORT
TO: COMMANDER
CONCERNING: NEW RECRUIT CRAID, JONATHAN
Craid was able to maintain his composure for nine hours during TEST 46-B. He did not move during this time, in compliance with the orders delivered as part of the test.
Average time subjects last during this time is one hour, thirty minutes. They typicially then give into frustration/boredom and defy orders in an attempt to understand what is happening.
Craid accessed his powers on hour nine of the test in an attempt to bypass the the orders in place. This demonstrates original thinking, and his ability to access the power that would best suit the situation is interesting.
During this time I attempted several times to access his thoughts, but was rebuffed somehow, as if the recruit's mind weren't even there. I do not believe that this was intentional: the recruit somehow possesses a high resistance to psychic intrusion. My attempts to access his mind were likely interpreted as some sort of unpleasant physical sensation (perhaps an itch.) This could prove to be both a boon and a hindrance: it means that his fellow squadmates will be unable to communicate with him telepathically until he gains control over this ability, but it also means that he will be highly resistant to forms of mental torture if he were to be captured.
His patience and psychic solitude make him the perfect assassin/spy. He also seems to have an aptitude for remote veiwing, the power he accessed during the test, which could be used as a tool to gather information for those tasks.
ADDENDUM: Doctor Green has been acting increasingly hostile during these tests towards me. While I do not see this to be a problem, you told me to attach notes on his behavior to this report.
END OF REPORT
Reward Winner: Amnestic
Honourable Mentions: Scotth266, pantsoffdanceoff, F17
No Entry: ^Mimi, Skarin
The radiocomm crackled to life, breaking Tian from his allotted rest cycle. "Commander Tian; Ghost A-0098 reporting."
Tian rolled from his private bunk groggily. There was little time for rest in his schedule, especially whenever a new batch of recruits were had. There were tests to be run, mental examinations, social aptitude tests, not to mention the need for equipment modified to their needs, and of course food. Even the Confederacy didn't expect children to live off of the Marine rations. He patched the report through in a gruff voice "Continue, Ghost."
"Sir. The recruits from shipment Y-53, their mental examination reports have been compiled. All of them phenomenal, Sir."
Tian grimaced. It was rare that an entire batch survived the mental examinations. Very rare. He felt a familiar itch between his shoulders; one he hadn't felt since-
"Sir?" The Ghost crackled in.
Tian grunted "Right. I want them started on physical and equipment training tomorrow."
"Sir, isn't a three-day reprieve after tests a Confederation polic-"
"Ghost, you do not make the laws, you do not make the policies. You obey your commanding officer, and at the moment," Tian said harshly, his voice laced with contempt "That is me. Put those recruits in training. I want to see them sweating, crying, I want to see them broken. Get to work."
Tian closed the communications and returned to his bed. He was determined; they would be Ghosts as soon as possible.
Mission: Demonstrate familiarity with Terran Confederacy weaponry; choose your characters preferred loadout (Including main weapon, sidearm, etc), skills (We'll keep this in an abstract form; computer skills, martial arts, mind tricks, etc.).
Characters: Varies (If you wish to do a Joint piece, wherein you have two characters working as partners/together in one piece, please PM me with the names of the characters and an outline of what you have planned. Also, use of the other character must be approved by its creator.)
Reward: Technology: Ocular Implants (Offers increased site range) OR Ability: Lockdown
Description: This will take place in the form of a mission simulation. Your character(s) will use a system that allows full physical movement without possible physical harm while giving the illusion that pain is felt, scent is smelled, etc. You have three missions to choose from, listed below.
SPECIAL: As this will be a mission simulation, none of the simulated NPCs will make note that you are a child. However, you must remain within the physical bounds that any child would have. If that doesn't make sense, here's the short version;
As far as they can tell, you aren't a kid. But you still are.
Deadline: Sunday, August 16th.
Honourable Mentions: Scotth266, pantsoffdanceoff, F17
No Entry: ^Mimi, Skarin
[HEADING=2]Mission Two:[/HEADING]
[HEADING=3]Work It Out[/HEADING]
[HEADING=3]Work It Out[/HEADING]
The radiocomm crackled to life, breaking Tian from his allotted rest cycle. "Commander Tian; Ghost A-0098 reporting."
Tian rolled from his private bunk groggily. There was little time for rest in his schedule, especially whenever a new batch of recruits were had. There were tests to be run, mental examinations, social aptitude tests, not to mention the need for equipment modified to their needs, and of course food. Even the Confederacy didn't expect children to live off of the Marine rations. He patched the report through in a gruff voice "Continue, Ghost."
"Sir. The recruits from shipment Y-53, their mental examination reports have been compiled. All of them phenomenal, Sir."
Tian grimaced. It was rare that an entire batch survived the mental examinations. Very rare. He felt a familiar itch between his shoulders; one he hadn't felt since-
"Sir?" The Ghost crackled in.
Tian grunted "Right. I want them started on physical and equipment training tomorrow."
"Sir, isn't a three-day reprieve after tests a Confederation polic-"
"Ghost, you do not make the laws, you do not make the policies. You obey your commanding officer, and at the moment," Tian said harshly, his voice laced with contempt "That is me. Put those recruits in training. I want to see them sweating, crying, I want to see them broken. Get to work."
Tian closed the communications and returned to his bed. He was determined; they would be Ghosts as soon as possible.
Mission: Demonstrate familiarity with Terran Confederacy weaponry; choose your characters preferred loadout (Including main weapon, sidearm, etc), skills (We'll keep this in an abstract form; computer skills, martial arts, mind tricks, etc.).
Characters: Varies (If you wish to do a Joint piece, wherein you have two characters working as partners/together in one piece, please PM me with the names of the characters and an outline of what you have planned. Also, use of the other character must be approved by its creator.)
Reward: Technology: Ocular Implants (Offers increased site range) OR Ability: Lockdown
Description: This will take place in the form of a mission simulation. Your character(s) will use a system that allows full physical movement without possible physical harm while giving the illusion that pain is felt, scent is smelled, etc. You have three missions to choose from, listed below.
A fugitive wanted by the Confederacy is said to be lurking the underworld of Tarsonis. Using whatever abilities available to you, find and apprehend this fugitive. Caution is in order; he is armed, and he is deadly. Leave no way to trace your movements, whether it be through murder of contacts or memory wipes, you must sure that you remain unknown.
The Confederacy has a special mission for you. Infiltrate a rogue Terran Command Center and retrieve plans for a "Psionic Disrupter." Detection means death.
Mission C is freeform by approval. If you have an alternative to the above two missions that you would rather do, PM me with your idea and I may allow it.
SPECIAL: As this will be a mission simulation, none of the simulated NPCs will make note that you are a child. However, you must remain within the physical bounds that any child would have. If that doesn't make sense, here's the short version;
As far as they can tell, you aren't a kid. But you still are.
Deadline: Sunday, August 16th.
Once again, this is a long one. I couldn't find a way to make this any shorter than it already is and I already cut back some parts slightly to make it less taxing to read. Hope it's not too bad.
?And those are the missions available to you for this training exercise.? The Captain ? Zera thought he was a Captain anyway. He looked like a Captain might look. ? finished elaborating on the optional paths available to him for their next step of lessons to help him harness his powers. He wasn?t the first in line to choose his simulation, but the Captain did approach him, he answered quickly and concisely.
?Mission B please, Sir. Acquiring the plans for the Psionic Disrupter without being detected.? His voice didn?t falter and he had his sweet smile playing a merry tune across his face. No detection meant that combat could be kept to a minimum, something he approved of even if his opponents were just simulations.
?Are you sure, lad? Mission B might be a bit out of your league looking at your statistics.? The Captain held up a clipboard and motioned to it. True, the simulation couldn?t result in death but nevertheless it was still a test.
?Sir, I wouldn?t ask to do it if I didn?t think I was capable. I will return with the plans, of that I assure you.? The Captain nodded, a slight smirk ? not an unkind one ? played across his features for a single moment before he moved on.
Next was the equipment room. He chose the standard equipment giving to military serving Ghosts, the C-10 Canister rifle and the mesh suit which would allow him some protection but also allow him to move easily and with plenty of flexibility. He opted for a tranquiliser pistol as his sidearm, hoping that he could use it over his C-10 should anyone be in his way to keep silence without alerting guards. He?d also requested some explosives as an addition, to the surprise of the supply officer, who Zera had assured that the explosives were absolutely crucial to his success.
He?d been given a short briefing of what he might encounter in the Command Centre; mostly scientists with patrols of armoured marines the likes he?d already seen, as well as a small vehicle garage where repairs were being done on some of the units that the high ranking Officers of the base used. He?d also been given a schematic of the basic Terran Command Centre structure and layout. There might be minor deviations but it was likely that it would be developed close to standard if not exactly. He had traced the most logical route to the central computer system in his mind and knew it from memory, though he might have trouble if he was forced to deviate. Zera?s final piece of equipment was the small memory disc with which he was going to download the plans onto. This he kept in a small package on his belt so as not to lose it.
Zera entered the simulation room, blank grey walls except for a single observation window high up to his left. He couldn?t see anyone inside; the glass was distorted slightly and if anyone was there then their face would be hidden by the computer terminals. A voice echoed throughout the simulator giving Zera a slight startle.
?Simulation beginning in 3...2...1...Mission Start!? It echoed. As it uttered its final words the room swam past him and changed from the grey walls into the shining metal that military buildings were often made from. Before him stretched his first corridor and from there his path was set assuming no major blunders on his part. One thing had been stressed explicitly though: Detection would equal failure. He wouldn?t fail, and he hoped that Doctor Lesco was watching. Many of the people in the base had been a little mean or short with him but the good Doctor had been quite kind and Zera couldn?t shake that from his mind entirely. Resolving himself to put it to the back of his brain for the time being, he gripped the hilt of his tranquiliser pistol and jogged off down the corridor, hugging one of the walls and keeping an eye out for any security cameras.
As he reached the end, the hall twisted into two directions. Left would lead him on his path directly to the central computer whereas the right one would take him via the garage but still allow him to reach the computer if he followed the map correctly. A quick glance down both directions told him that turning the corner would lead him into neither a patrol nor security cameras and so he made his way right as he?d originally planned. His operation plan had been quite simple and a strategist would have seen through it easily but he was dealing with a simulation here rather than live, human opponents. He did question how he?d come up with the plan as it seemed to simply pop into his head from nowhere, nevertheless it seemed sound and meant his job would end up being all the easier.
Before long he?d navigated the corridors quickly and adeptly to the entrance of the hangar. Inside were three marines stood guard at various points along with about five to ten mechanics working on a few different machines. He couldn?t name them off hand, one was long and slender with a small cannon at the front, while others were large bipedal robots bristling with different weapons. Regardless of what they were (Zera intended to ask a soldier later for clarification), he would operate without being seen.
His entrance was flawless as he darted between cover, his small size allowing him to squeeze into the smaller spaces. Even though he?d been told he?d be viewed as an adult, he could still fit into tighter areas than the fully grown adults could. Steadily making his way forward he was eventually next to a marine. He was fully armoured, just as the ones he?d seen outside the simulation were. His visor was raised however and his face vulnerable. He focused on a point slightly to the side of him and mentally knocked the wall a few times, garnering the attention of the marine. As soon as he had moved a safe distance to investigate Zera slipped through the now empty post into the garage proper.
Luckily for him, the mechanics were engrossed in their work. Whatever the Officers had done to their vehicles, it had obviously been extensive. He could hear the bickering and moans from all the way across the garage even without his ?gift?. Once more he focused, this time on himself. This was more on refracting light though, turning it away from his body and giving him a translucent and see-through quality. From where he was stood, he doubted anyone would tell the difference and merely put the distortion down to a trick of the light. He padded ? not totally silently but not loudly either ? to the side of one of the few unattended vehicles. After finding the place where the fuel hose was attached as he?d been shown on his parent?s ship, he gently placed and used the basic instructions of the explosives to set half of them into place, giving him a ten minute timer to accomplish the rest of his plan.
From there he moved back to his hiding place behind the guard post, the marine he?d distracted now back into place. He frowned a bit. He...had missed this in his plan. The marine wouldn?t fall for the same ?knock on wall? trick twice and he needed to move quickly past him if he hoped to finish the plot as intended. He made a quiet ?Tch,? sound and sat for a moment thinking. From where he was he would be entirely safe from the blast of first explosives he?d set, but he had intended to place a second batch to catch anyone extra who came looking. The explosion would distract the marine directly in front of him, but it wouldn?t allow him to place the second set. There was a third exit to the garage but it lead to a dead end of offices and bedroom quarters, meaning that was useless to him. The hallway he used for his entrance was the one he desired to use and he only knew the route for that path. He?d get lost quickly if he had to take the other, which was also guarded by a marine anyway.
This is beginning to annoy me. He thought to himself before the thought struck him. If the guard was in his way, why not just ask him to move? A ripple of power surged through him as he probed out into the darkness to find the marine?s mind. There. Zera dived in, completely unknown and found what he needed. You should go ask if the mechanics need anything. He imprinted slowly, turning the words carefully in the marine?s mind. What seemed like an eternity for Zera was really only a few seconds. He carefully retreated from the marine?s mind, careful not to do it too fast. With his obstruction removed permanently he set to work quickly, darting from his hiding place and dropping the last of his explosives into place, giving these a ten minute timer just like the last. If his mental calculations were correct, these would go off about a minute and a half after the first set.
He was back in his original corridor now, hugging the wall once more. The first explosion sent a rumble and a shudder through the Command Centre?s interior. It was slightly muffled due to distance but he could still hear it without having to strain himself. Alarms blared around him and the bright glow of the lights changed to dark red emergency lighting. He could hear shouts from soldiers as a small squad made their way past him, not looking down Zera?s corridor at all. After the first squad had gone by he chanced a glance down both corridors again. His vision was slightly impaired due to the lighting changes, but he still saw everything fine. As he was moving out to continue with his mission, a second explosion erupted and he heard the screams of dying simulations behind him. About now he had theorised that they would be sounding an evacuation, just like his Father had drilled him for just in case they came under attack and were forced to abandon ship.
He wasn?t going to be disappointed. Ahead he heard screams and shouts of people trying to get away. A few of the marines were shepherding the scientists but most were jogging past to evacuate ahead, valuing their own lives above everyone else?s. This gave him the perfect opportunity to make his move. Corridors extended in front of him but he followed the memorised path like a hiker who had travelled a hill many times. A left here, two rights there and another left further down allowed him to reach the terminal without a single person blocking his path. The double explosion he?d executed had run without a hitch. While there had been detections in the base, Zera had noticed that it was only he who must remain undetected. As long as they didn?t know it was Zera there, all would be fine within operational parameters.
He flipped open his pack and retrieved the disk, inserting it quickly and finding the necessary data. What he saw may as well have been gibberish. He could make neither heads nor tails of the schematic and he doubt he was meant to. Nevertheless, as soon as the download was complete he retrieved his disk and headed back into the corridor.
As he turned a corner to head towards the starting point the simulation faded away from him and Zera stopped, looking up at the Observation window which had blinked back into view when the simulator stopped.
?That will be all, Zera Sialus. Please turn in all your gear back to the Quartermaster.? The voice echoed out, speaking for the second ?and last- time. Whether he?d succeeded or not he wasn?t sure. Well, they hadn?t confirmed it but he was fairly certain that he would get a passing grade on this test. No one had seen him and he?d got the data. What more could they ask for? He left the simulator room with a massive grin plastered across his features, a euphoric feeling of having done his task well sat with him for the rest of the day.
Zera Sialus Test Simulation #3287180-Mission B. said:
John was getting tired of waking up these days: because whenever he did so, he found himself in a situation worse than the one he had fallen asleep in. He had fallen asleep in the examination room on Vedra IV: he had awoken to find that he had been drafted into some program. He had passed out during that strange test, only to wake up while experiments were being run on his body.
The situation he now found himself in wasn't much better. He had awoken to find himself lying down on some cold pavement in an alley, with his face in a dirty puddle. It was raining, and he had absolutely no idea where he was or how he had gotten there in the first place.
A positive thought struck him as he got to his feet: I must have escaped, right?! How else could I have gotten here? Unfortunately, his short-lived illusion of freedom was quickly shattered.
"Hello again, John." said a voice. It was the voice from before, though this time it sounded a lot less friendly than it had after the test.
"Wh-Who is this?" John said shakily. He was getting scared now: if he was losing his mind, then what was he going to do? You couldn't keep yourself from going crazy, and he had heard stories from his dad about people who had lost it during the war on the Zerg... one tale in particular stuck out in his mind. It had been about a person who had killed herself after days of laughing at the slightest provocation.
"Poor woman went mad from the thrill of still being alive." one of the mechanics had told him mournfully. That story came to him quite clearly now: was he losing it because he, like that woman, had expected to die only to be spared by the hands of Fate?
"You're not going insane, John." the voice said firmly. "I am a Ghost."
With that, John understood. He had heard the rumor: if you had strange talents or weird abilities, sometimes you'd disappear... and be drafted into the Ghost program.
Ghosts. John thought with a shiver. They were supposed to be humanity's deadliest soldiers: they could mess with your mind, go invisible... the most powerful were rumored to be able to kill with but a thought. I'm one of THOSE?!? John thought, putting his head in his hands. He knew the other part of the rumor too: if you were drafted into the Ghost program, you didn't come back.
John couldn't help it: he began to cry, his tears blending in with those of the sky.
------------
Twenty minutes later, John's sobs slowed. His survival instincts had kicked in: this was no time for self-pity. His father would have been ashamed if he were here. I need to pull myself together. he thought heavily.
"It seems that you're ready for your instructions." said the voice, calmly. "This is a simulated world, created for the purposes of a test. In this simulation there is a man you are to track down and... apprehend."
Wait, what?!? How am I supposed to do that?! John thought rapidly. I'm just a kid!
"This man will have weapons. He will attempt to kill you on sight." continued the Ghost, ignoring John's questions.
Suddenly, there was a clatter from behind John. He spun around, to find that a dirty trashcan had been replaced by a door.
"You will find information, and the tools you will need, inside. You will repeat this simulation until you are successful. I will not contact you again." said the Ghost, with an air of finality.
"Wait! What do you mean by tools!? You haven't explained anything!" screamed John, but the voice, true to its word, did not return.
------------
Five minutes later, John gave up on waiting for a response, and opened the door. It led to a storage room, well-lit and sterile looking. Almost like a hospital, John thought.
Or a morgue.
There were several tables in the room, all of which had metallic briefcases with a number on them. There was a small red button with a corresponding number directly next to each case. John picked up the first one he could reach, and almost dropped it: the thing was immensely heavy. If the tools I need are in here, John thought: I'm going to be screwed. This case is way too heavy for me to carry.
John put it on the ground, released the clasps on the sides and opened it. Inside were several metallic parts, along with a note, which read: PUSH THE BUTTON. John reluctantly complied: he didn't have any choice in the matter, after all.
As he pushed the button, a sudden thought hit him: if this was a simulation, how was his real body doing? He had to repeat this until he succeeded, so what would happen to him in the real world while he was busy here? Best not to think about it, he decided.
Several seconds after he had pushed the button, a hologram appeared where the briefcase had been sitting. It showed a man taking the parts out of the case, one by one, connecting them until they formed-
-A pistol. John realized, a few seconds before the man slid the last pieces into place. But how am I supposed to shoot it? I don't know how to use-
Before he could complete the thought, the hologram stood up, pointed the pistol to the side, and fired it. The noise was extremely loud: but it didn't hurt John's ears: the engines on his father's ship had been far noisier. A thought came, unbidden, to John's mind: It's far too loud. The noise would get me spotted in an instant. Before he could realize what he had just thought about, the hologram pulled out a part from a side compartment, screwing in on to the end of the barrel. The hologram fired again, but this time the noise was reduced remarkably: now it sounded more like someone spitting than an explosion.
A list of notes then appeared. John skimmed it but for a few moments before he realized that it was instructions on how to do what the hologram had just done: they listed how to assemble the weapon and fire it. When John looked around the room, he noticed that there was another door: this one had a label on it. TESTING, it read. John pushed open this door, to find a long corridor, with a man-shaped target at the end of it. It's for practice, he realized with a start.
They're trying to teach me how to use these weapons. John thought. He was sickened by the idea, and for a few minutes, he considered leaving the room... until the next thought crossed his mind.
It's not real. I wouldn't be hurting anyone, even if I DID use these weapons. They're not real, right?
John touched his face. HE sure felt like this was real. Was this really a simulation? Why should he trust that Ghost? Maybe he had just imagined the door appearing: perhaps it had been there the whole time...
Those thoughts were instantly shattered though, as a line of green text appeared in front of him, floating in mid-air. It read:
THIS IS A SIMULATION. QUIT WASTING TIME.
With that, John gave in: he had to accept that this was all a computer fantasy... the alternative was that he was going crazy, and he couldn't believe that. He had to stay sane: he would never be able to see his father again otherwise.
------------
Three hours later, John had learned all that he needed to from the cold, white room. He had assembled several weapons. The pistol which he had first discovered, some flashbang grenades, a knife (strapped to his leg), and the rifle.
The rifle was, luckily, in a light case. He couldn't have carried it assembled: that would attract way too much attention. It was far too big to carry out in the open, even with the strap that came with it.
When John had decided on what to bring, and turned to exit the room, he saw that an envelope was taped to the back of the door. He opened it to find a wanted poster, a map with a building circled (a hotel named The Vigilant Steed), and some keys. As he walked outside, he found was a motorbike that hadn't been there before.
The keys fit perfectly.
------------
John managed to make it all the way to the area where the hotel was located without being stopped or questioned. It was strange really: it was as if the people here didn't see him as a kid: several glanced his way, but their eyes always passed far over his. Part of the simulation, he thought dazedly.
John stopped a few blocks away from the hotel, parking the bike easily. John walked into the office building across from the hotel. It was abandoned and empty, the doorway long since having been kicked in. A gang had probably used the place not too long ago: graffiti covered the walls.
John slowly walked up the steps, heading for the fourth floor. THIRD FLOOR, the map had scribbled on it: that was where the man in the poster would be. John would need a slight height advantage.
When he reached the fourth floor, John dropped the briefcase next to a window. He opened it, quickly assembling the contents. He set the finished product aside.
There were several tables scattered throughout the room, but only one was long enough. John pushed it over to the window, grunting with the effort. The table was sturdy, and it would support his weight. John grabbed the rifle, setting it up on the table. He then crawled up onto the table himself.
John looked down into the third floor of The Vigilant Steed. There was only one room that had the lights on: John focused on that. He looked through the scope of the rifle, trying to see inside.
For the first few minutes, nothing happened, and John was worried that he would have to go to another building: that the man had a room on another side of the hotel.
What am I doing? John thought, tears coming to his eyes. I can't seriously be considering this, right? His father's voice rang out suddenly in his head:
"John, no matter what, remember this: the lives of others are just as important as yours. Treat them with dignity."
The door to the hotel room suddenly opened. The man walked in. He wasn't wearing a shirt, for some odd reason.
"Treat them with dignity."
The man walked slowly to the small balcony of his room. A cigarette hung loosely from his mouth.
"Treat them with dignity."
"I'm sorry, Daddy." John whispered. He brushed the tears from his eyes, and leaned in, setting the rifle in the ready position. The man had arrived on the balcony: he stood there, looking up at the sky with a bemused look. He didn't see John.
John aimed the rifle, setting the center of the scope's dot a tick above the man's head.
"I'm so sorry." he said, nearly choking on the words.
John pulled the trigger.
------------
There was a small noise, almost as if someone had spit. For an instant, the man on the balcony looked puzzled.
Then his body jerked back. For one comical second, it looked like his head had simply disappeared... but then reality kicked back in. The shot, driven by the incredible forces that the rifle emitted, had actually blown the target's head all over the hotel room he had formerly occupied.
John let the tears flow freely again, as he sobbed into his sleeve. He was soaking wet, he had just killed a man (simulated or not), and he was never going to see his father again: he thought he was entitled to cry a little.
Then a piercing scream rang out. It was a woman's scream.
John was confused. Shouldn't the simulation have ended by now? He had killed the man, right? He pulled out the poster, hoping that there was some explanation written on it.
It wasn't the same poster anymore. Now, it had a woman's face on it.
John looked, horrified, towards the hotel room. There was a woman in the room now, crouched over the body of the man he had just killed. She had no clothes on.
The woman was the same one in the poster.
"Treat them with dignity."
A howling, mad scream ripped itself from John's throat. He grabbed the rifle, aimed it at the woman, and pulled the trigger, again and again, until five minutes later, his ammunition spent and his energy gone, he collapsed on the table. The cold wood almost felt like it was caressing his feverish, wet face. John's shoulder felt like it had been dislocated: the rifle was too much for him to handle without the table's support.
Somehow, he had not stopped screaming that entire time. He did now though: he had to breathe, his lungs were burning.
For one moment, he thought that he wanted to die. But he dismissed the idea as he thought about the man, and how his head had suddenly vanished.
"Good work." the Ghost said, as the rainy, bloodstained world around John collapsed into nothingness.
------------
The situation he now found himself in wasn't much better. He had awoken to find himself lying down on some cold pavement in an alley, with his face in a dirty puddle. It was raining, and he had absolutely no idea where he was or how he had gotten there in the first place.
A positive thought struck him as he got to his feet: I must have escaped, right?! How else could I have gotten here? Unfortunately, his short-lived illusion of freedom was quickly shattered.
"Hello again, John." said a voice. It was the voice from before, though this time it sounded a lot less friendly than it had after the test.
"Wh-Who is this?" John said shakily. He was getting scared now: if he was losing his mind, then what was he going to do? You couldn't keep yourself from going crazy, and he had heard stories from his dad about people who had lost it during the war on the Zerg... one tale in particular stuck out in his mind. It had been about a person who had killed herself after days of laughing at the slightest provocation.
"Poor woman went mad from the thrill of still being alive." one of the mechanics had told him mournfully. That story came to him quite clearly now: was he losing it because he, like that woman, had expected to die only to be spared by the hands of Fate?
"You're not going insane, John." the voice said firmly. "I am a Ghost."
With that, John understood. He had heard the rumor: if you had strange talents or weird abilities, sometimes you'd disappear... and be drafted into the Ghost program.
Ghosts. John thought with a shiver. They were supposed to be humanity's deadliest soldiers: they could mess with your mind, go invisible... the most powerful were rumored to be able to kill with but a thought. I'm one of THOSE?!? John thought, putting his head in his hands. He knew the other part of the rumor too: if you were drafted into the Ghost program, you didn't come back.
John couldn't help it: he began to cry, his tears blending in with those of the sky.
------------
Twenty minutes later, John's sobs slowed. His survival instincts had kicked in: this was no time for self-pity. His father would have been ashamed if he were here. I need to pull myself together. he thought heavily.
"It seems that you're ready for your instructions." said the voice, calmly. "This is a simulated world, created for the purposes of a test. In this simulation there is a man you are to track down and... apprehend."
Wait, what?!? How am I supposed to do that?! John thought rapidly. I'm just a kid!
"This man will have weapons. He will attempt to kill you on sight." continued the Ghost, ignoring John's questions.
Suddenly, there was a clatter from behind John. He spun around, to find that a dirty trashcan had been replaced by a door.
"You will find information, and the tools you will need, inside. You will repeat this simulation until you are successful. I will not contact you again." said the Ghost, with an air of finality.
"Wait! What do you mean by tools!? You haven't explained anything!" screamed John, but the voice, true to its word, did not return.
------------
Five minutes later, John gave up on waiting for a response, and opened the door. It led to a storage room, well-lit and sterile looking. Almost like a hospital, John thought.
Or a morgue.
There were several tables in the room, all of which had metallic briefcases with a number on them. There was a small red button with a corresponding number directly next to each case. John picked up the first one he could reach, and almost dropped it: the thing was immensely heavy. If the tools I need are in here, John thought: I'm going to be screwed. This case is way too heavy for me to carry.
John put it on the ground, released the clasps on the sides and opened it. Inside were several metallic parts, along with a note, which read: PUSH THE BUTTON. John reluctantly complied: he didn't have any choice in the matter, after all.
As he pushed the button, a sudden thought hit him: if this was a simulation, how was his real body doing? He had to repeat this until he succeeded, so what would happen to him in the real world while he was busy here? Best not to think about it, he decided.
Several seconds after he had pushed the button, a hologram appeared where the briefcase had been sitting. It showed a man taking the parts out of the case, one by one, connecting them until they formed-
-A pistol. John realized, a few seconds before the man slid the last pieces into place. But how am I supposed to shoot it? I don't know how to use-
Before he could complete the thought, the hologram stood up, pointed the pistol to the side, and fired it. The noise was extremely loud: but it didn't hurt John's ears: the engines on his father's ship had been far noisier. A thought came, unbidden, to John's mind: It's far too loud. The noise would get me spotted in an instant. Before he could realize what he had just thought about, the hologram pulled out a part from a side compartment, screwing in on to the end of the barrel. The hologram fired again, but this time the noise was reduced remarkably: now it sounded more like someone spitting than an explosion.
A list of notes then appeared. John skimmed it but for a few moments before he realized that it was instructions on how to do what the hologram had just done: they listed how to assemble the weapon and fire it. When John looked around the room, he noticed that there was another door: this one had a label on it. TESTING, it read. John pushed open this door, to find a long corridor, with a man-shaped target at the end of it. It's for practice, he realized with a start.
They're trying to teach me how to use these weapons. John thought. He was sickened by the idea, and for a few minutes, he considered leaving the room... until the next thought crossed his mind.
It's not real. I wouldn't be hurting anyone, even if I DID use these weapons. They're not real, right?
John touched his face. HE sure felt like this was real. Was this really a simulation? Why should he trust that Ghost? Maybe he had just imagined the door appearing: perhaps it had been there the whole time...
Those thoughts were instantly shattered though, as a line of green text appeared in front of him, floating in mid-air. It read:
THIS IS A SIMULATION. QUIT WASTING TIME.
With that, John gave in: he had to accept that this was all a computer fantasy... the alternative was that he was going crazy, and he couldn't believe that. He had to stay sane: he would never be able to see his father again otherwise.
------------
Three hours later, John had learned all that he needed to from the cold, white room. He had assembled several weapons. The pistol which he had first discovered, some flashbang grenades, a knife (strapped to his leg), and the rifle.
The rifle was, luckily, in a light case. He couldn't have carried it assembled: that would attract way too much attention. It was far too big to carry out in the open, even with the strap that came with it.
When John had decided on what to bring, and turned to exit the room, he saw that an envelope was taped to the back of the door. He opened it to find a wanted poster, a map with a building circled (a hotel named The Vigilant Steed), and some keys. As he walked outside, he found was a motorbike that hadn't been there before.
The keys fit perfectly.
------------
John managed to make it all the way to the area where the hotel was located without being stopped or questioned. It was strange really: it was as if the people here didn't see him as a kid: several glanced his way, but their eyes always passed far over his. Part of the simulation, he thought dazedly.
John stopped a few blocks away from the hotel, parking the bike easily. John walked into the office building across from the hotel. It was abandoned and empty, the doorway long since having been kicked in. A gang had probably used the place not too long ago: graffiti covered the walls.
John slowly walked up the steps, heading for the fourth floor. THIRD FLOOR, the map had scribbled on it: that was where the man in the poster would be. John would need a slight height advantage.
When he reached the fourth floor, John dropped the briefcase next to a window. He opened it, quickly assembling the contents. He set the finished product aside.
There were several tables scattered throughout the room, but only one was long enough. John pushed it over to the window, grunting with the effort. The table was sturdy, and it would support his weight. John grabbed the rifle, setting it up on the table. He then crawled up onto the table himself.
John looked down into the third floor of The Vigilant Steed. There was only one room that had the lights on: John focused on that. He looked through the scope of the rifle, trying to see inside.
For the first few minutes, nothing happened, and John was worried that he would have to go to another building: that the man had a room on another side of the hotel.
What am I doing? John thought, tears coming to his eyes. I can't seriously be considering this, right? His father's voice rang out suddenly in his head:
"John, no matter what, remember this: the lives of others are just as important as yours. Treat them with dignity."
The door to the hotel room suddenly opened. The man walked in. He wasn't wearing a shirt, for some odd reason.
"Treat them with dignity."
The man walked slowly to the small balcony of his room. A cigarette hung loosely from his mouth.
"Treat them with dignity."
"I'm sorry, Daddy." John whispered. He brushed the tears from his eyes, and leaned in, setting the rifle in the ready position. The man had arrived on the balcony: he stood there, looking up at the sky with a bemused look. He didn't see John.
John aimed the rifle, setting the center of the scope's dot a tick above the man's head.
"I'm so sorry." he said, nearly choking on the words.
John pulled the trigger.
------------
There was a small noise, almost as if someone had spit. For an instant, the man on the balcony looked puzzled.
Then his body jerked back. For one comical second, it looked like his head had simply disappeared... but then reality kicked back in. The shot, driven by the incredible forces that the rifle emitted, had actually blown the target's head all over the hotel room he had formerly occupied.
John let the tears flow freely again, as he sobbed into his sleeve. He was soaking wet, he had just killed a man (simulated or not), and he was never going to see his father again: he thought he was entitled to cry a little.
Then a piercing scream rang out. It was a woman's scream.
John was confused. Shouldn't the simulation have ended by now? He had killed the man, right? He pulled out the poster, hoping that there was some explanation written on it.
It wasn't the same poster anymore. Now, it had a woman's face on it.
John looked, horrified, towards the hotel room. There was a woman in the room now, crouched over the body of the man he had just killed. She had no clothes on.
The woman was the same one in the poster.
"Treat them with dignity."
A howling, mad scream ripped itself from John's throat. He grabbed the rifle, aimed it at the woman, and pulled the trigger, again and again, until five minutes later, his ammunition spent and his energy gone, he collapsed on the table. The cold wood almost felt like it was caressing his feverish, wet face. John's shoulder felt like it had been dislocated: the rifle was too much for him to handle without the table's support.
Somehow, he had not stopped screaming that entire time. He did now though: he had to breathe, his lungs were burning.
For one moment, he thought that he wanted to die. But he dismissed the idea as he thought about the man, and how his head had suddenly vanished.
"Good work." the Ghost said, as the rainy, bloodstained world around John collapsed into nothingness.
------------
FROM: GHOST C-7093
TO: COMMANDER TIAN
CONCERNING: NEW RECRUIT CRAID, JONATHAN
John was put through Simulation 39-A. The results of the simulation are positive: Johnathan was able to complete the mission objectives with little difficulty and quickly acquired skills with the standard weaponry available to our units. For the simulation, he chose a well-balanced armament that shows considerable foresight, though he only used his primary weapon.
John was able to complete the mission objectives on his first run-through, in defiance of the odds: he had no prior experiences with death or even firing a weapon. It is believed that his father had been sheltering his son heavily from such things, as a result of seeing the psychological damage incurred on other soldiers during his service. John's ability to fulfill the mission objectives regardless is impressive.
John is also thoroughly broken, as you have ordered.
A minor note of concern is that when the suprise objective was revealed, John temporarily lost control of himself. He still managed to eliminate the target, but he screamed for a straight five minutes. I do not believe that this should count against him though: considering that this was his first killing experience, and that he knew it was a simulation (which he knew would end when the objective was fufilled), his reaction was justified, even though in a real combat situation it would have been a bad/lethal one.
It should also be taken into account that up until that point he demonstrated considerable skill in stealth, despite his lack of training. I must also note that he did not make use of his powers to accomplish the mission: although, given the mission's rather easy difficulty, that might not be considered much of an accomplishment.
END OF REPORT
TO: COMMANDER TIAN
CONCERNING: NEW RECRUIT CRAID, JONATHAN
John was put through Simulation 39-A. The results of the simulation are positive: Johnathan was able to complete the mission objectives with little difficulty and quickly acquired skills with the standard weaponry available to our units. For the simulation, he chose a well-balanced armament that shows considerable foresight, though he only used his primary weapon.
John was able to complete the mission objectives on his first run-through, in defiance of the odds: he had no prior experiences with death or even firing a weapon. It is believed that his father had been sheltering his son heavily from such things, as a result of seeing the psychological damage incurred on other soldiers during his service. John's ability to fulfill the mission objectives regardless is impressive.
John is also thoroughly broken, as you have ordered.
A minor note of concern is that when the suprise objective was revealed, John temporarily lost control of himself. He still managed to eliminate the target, but he screamed for a straight five minutes. I do not believe that this should count against him though: considering that this was his first killing experience, and that he knew it was a simulation (which he knew would end when the objective was fufilled), his reaction was justified, even though in a real combat situation it would have been a bad/lethal one.
It should also be taken into account that up until that point he demonstrated considerable skill in stealth, despite his lack of training. I must also note that he did not make use of his powers to accomplish the mission: although, given the mission's rather easy difficulty, that might not be considered much of an accomplishment.
END OF REPORT