Avatar fic numero dos! As with most good ideas, this came out of the blue. Here it is. Enjoy!
"You have been in cryo for five years, nine months, and twenty-two days! You will be hungry, you will be weak, if you have any trouble please ask an attendant for help!" The warren continued with his prepared speech, but it went ignored by Sgt Jake Sully. He pulled himself along the rails planted in the wall, the microgravity making him feel like he was underwater, only dry. He pulled himself to his appointed locker. The door slid open smoothly, revealing the cavity in which Jake had stored his pack, almost six years prior.
'Tom would have been 37 by now.' The thought came unbidden, and Jake had to fight down the automatic pang of loss. Losing a twin was like losing half of yourself, doubly so for identicals. Even when life is beating you down and taking a crap in your mouth, you could rest assured that somewhere in the world, someone was out there who felt things the way you did, thought along the lines you thought, always knew exactly what you needed without having to be told. It didn't matter that Tom was a biologist and Jake was gunning guerillas down in Venezuela; they both had a connection, something bone deep, that had tied them together since birth.
Without that tether, Jake felt lost, weightless; even more so than he currently was in the cryo-chamber of the ISV Venture Star. Jake had been on leave, waiting to say goodbye to his brother before he left for God-only-knows how long for Pandora. Whereas Jake had always seen the alien moon as something from a bad sci-fi novel, with the heroic humans leaping into a hostile landscape to protect mankind and educate the poor savages, Tom had been hooked. He'd spent an extra two years in college, paying the exorbitant rates of the Neo Ivy League University from his own pocket, to get his Ph. D. in Xenobiology. All so that he could be selected to go to Pandora, take place in the Avatar program and explore wonders untouched by man.
Then, a week before Tom's dreams were about to come true, he got killed by some transient with a gun and an empty wallet. When Jake had heard the news, his first impulse had been to hunt down the guy and tear him apart with his bare hands. His legs, recovered from their brief stint of total numbness, had been twitching with his repressed desire to bolt through the streets of NYC and find this guy. Like a caveman, he wanted to take out the one who'd taken away a loved one from him.
His week of leave, now unnecessary, was still in effect. Jake had decided to dull the pain with some good ol' ninety proof. Even with water a commodity, most hydration supplied in the algae that was all there was to eat; alcohol had still limped on into the twenty-second century, giving weary men a chance to forget the world around them. Jake had been at the bar, enjoying his third (or was it fourth?) glass of bourbon when he'd been approached by two suits. They'd all but cornered him.
They'd told him lots of things. They told me how the only one that could operate Tom's avatar was me, since we were twins. They told me that I was needed to ensure that a multi-million dollar investment in a multi-trillion dollar operation didn't go to waste. They told me that I'd be helping mankind that I'd never need money ever again when I got back, on and on they talked. In my inebriated state, I'd kindly all but verbally flipped the bird. They were relentless, though. They'd approached me again as I waited to watch Tom be cremated. They'd had a folder. Inside was a bunch of official-looking paperwork. They'd reminded me how important this was. They showed me how everything had been taking care of.
I'd honestly been frightened when I'd seen they indeed had everything cleared. Money talks and RDA had shown me how deep their pockets were: deep enough to talk to someone who technically didn't exist.
Now sober, and filled with a newfound healthy caution of RDA, I'd considered the offer. As Tom's body was consumed in flames, I could have sworn I felt a gentle nudge, a playful push towards the suits. Before I had consciously registered the fact, I'd signed on the dotted lines. Now, here he was, staring off into figurative space at his open locker while he floated in literal space.
Jake sighed, before shaking the thoughts off. He hooked the pack into his shoulder, and went through the routines of getting food and warming up unused muscles with the mechanical obedience of any pensive soldier. Time was on fast-forward. Suddenly Jake was sitting in the shuttle, just another in a long line of mercenaries. I watched through the window as, with state-of-the-art efficiency, the shuttle detached from the Venture Star, its fusion engine powering the thrusters that were catapulting them at mach 4 towards the Pandoran atmosphere. Gyroscopes were good; he didn't feel a thing.
Jake watched as they neared the surface, the flat green he'd seen from space morphing into flora that seemed to come straight from a child's fantasy. 'I'm here, Tom,' I thought, watching with a small amount of wonder the beauty of the moon. I'd never seen so much green before; in a planet dominated by steel and glass and smog, the only living plant life was the few protected parks that had somehow survived in a poisoned world. Now, Jake could see with his own eyes trees that would rival the atmo-scrapers of any major city.
The shuttle landed, and I put on my exopack. I noticed how all the other guys moved with eerily similar, clockwork motions, marine training turning them into a single cohesive being. I stood apart. That was to be expected. I was different from them, like a wolf among sheep. No one here had gone through the training I'd gone through after my last tour in Venezuela. None of them had stood in the presence of Shadow. I shook those thoughts from my head. That info was classified, even inside my head.
I heard the CO barking off commands. "Make sure your exopack is firmly secured! This atmosphere will drop you cold in twenty seconds. You'll be dead in four minutes tops! When that hatch opens, you are to enter the base in an orderly fashion! You will not stop, you will not break formation! Welcome to Pandora, people!" The resounding call of "OOH-RAH!" seemed to echo in the small space. I opted to remain silent. I shouldered my pack, and unclipped my harness the instant the hatch opened.
I stood up with the rest of the company, following with a balanced, brisk stride while the other guys practically jogged across the surface of the base. I kept pace, but observed my surroundings, finding details and committing them to memory. The meter-thick walls were regularly interspersed with towers, and the open-air part of Hell's Gate, as it was unofficially named, was swarming with other mercenaries, Samson helicopters, AMP suits, and the occasional massive dozer. Humans had erected a sanctuary in the heart of a hostile, foreign territory, a concrete sore in a lush, green hellhole. I felt vaguely impressed.
I followed the jarheads to a briefing room, discarding my exo-pack as I entered the base. I calmly took a seat near the back, so I could observe everything. That's the kind of thing you do, when you're… I cut off the thought before it was completed. I didn't like dwelling on the fact that black ops had made me different. Without fanfare, a middle-aged marine entered. He was at least forty, hair gone prematurely white, but his muscles still bulged like a twenty-something wrestler. His eyes were cold, and a scar made by some alien creature marred the right side of his head.
He spoke with a clear voice, disregarding all other sounds to make way for itself. Total silence occurred in seconds; a higher-up was speaking. "You are on Pandora. Respect that fact, ladies and gentlemen. After today, if you're looking for some R&R, I'd suggest Dante's ninth circle. Outside these walls, everything that runs, flies, and crawls through the mud are out to eat your eyes for juju juice." I was tempted to laugh; after all I'd gone through, it would take a lot more than this guy to make me afraid of some random hellhole.
"We have an indigenous population of humanoids called the Na'vi. They favor bows and arrows tipped with a neurotoxin that will kill you within a minute, and their skeletons are reinforced with naturally-occurring carbon fibers. They are very hard to kill." He paused, perhaps to let the grunts conjure images of inhumane savages. "I am Colonel Miles Quaritch. It is my job as Chief Security Officer to ensure you all survive. I will not succeed. Not unless you each cultivate a strong mental attitude. You've got to play by the rules; Pandora's rules."
Quaritch proceeded to outline RDA's purpose on Pandora, and the fresh meat's duties as bodyguards. I filtered it all through a haze of boredom, but I paid attention; knowledge was power and all that. I knew all about Unobtanium, though; he didn't need to tell me about that stuff. It was the reason I still had my legs. Once again, I tried to erase the incriminating thought. God, losing Tom had made me lose my edge. I had to remind myself that I'd left my shadowy practices when I'd committed myself to the Avatar program.
When the meeting ended, I made my way to the lab; I'd been instructed to meet with the scientists involved with the Avatar program. Along the way, I heard someone calling out to me. I turned around to see a tall-ish guy with brown hair and eyes that seemed to practically glow with suppressed excitement, like a kid not daring to believe it when he got locked overnight in an amusement park. "You're Jake, Tom's brother right?" I nodded, and shook his proffered hand, giving him a brief shake. As I continued walking, he kept pace, seemingly overflowing with conversation.
"I'm Norm, Norm Spellman. I'm in the Avatar program too. I heard about Tom, and that sucks, but now you're here! You aren't going to believe how lucky you are, man. I've been studying for five years to get here, and I can't wait to get in my Avatar. This place is so amazing, isn't it?" He kept up a non-stop chatter about his many accomplishments and his eagerness to get started with the Avatars.
I kept mostly silent, answering questions when asked, letting him control the flow of conversation. The guy reminded me of Tom, with his fascination in things that I simply didn't understand. In short order, I reached the lab. The room was dominated by two giant tubes, glowing with a blue liquid and something else. A dark-skinned scientist in a white coat was waiting for us. He introduced himself as Max Petrel, and he was immediately bombarded by Norm's effervescent chatter. While they talked, I made my way to the tube on the left.
Tom's Avatar, my Avatar, was floating inside. I was entranced. Floating in blue fluid, an umbilical cord winding towards the false placenta was a stretched-out, feline, blue version of me. At least nine feet long, its expression peaceful, my avatar waited, having fully-matured over the journey here. I noted its long ears, the tail, the braid of hair, but I could see the human parts in its five fingers, the jaw much like my own, and the normal-shaped eyes.
Norm, uncharacteristically silent, came up beside me. "He looks like Tom," I said, silently remembering my brother and swearing to uphold his legacy. Norm said "He looks like you." Whether he was contradicting or agreeing with my statement, I didn't know. Lost in thought, I followed Max as he herded us to the linking chamber, where he said we where to meet the head honcho.
As we entered, Norm whispered excitedly in my ear. "This is totally awesome! We get to meet Dr. Grace Augustine! She wrote the book on Pandora, I'm serious. This whole program, all our progress with the Na'vi, is all thanks to her." I patiently endured this tirade, before I calmly told him "She wants Tom, not me. I can't say I'm very eager." I liked Norm, he had that attitude that made you want to be his friend, but I felt obligated to remind him that I wasn't a scientist like him.
Norm shut up, though didn't seem offended. The room had a central hub, aglow with holographic monitors, with several rectangular pods hooked into the circular wall. Each had its own control panel. One of them opened, and a middle-aged woman with short red hair and strong cheekbones emerged. "Where's my damn cigarette?" she asked gruffly, looking like she'd just woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Another scientist patiently handed her a lit cancer stick, which she immediately took a long drag from.
Dr. Augustine turned to face Norm and me while Max took the time to introduce us. Her eyes instantly locked on me. She was tall, and was around eye-level with me; it provided her a better opportunity to glare. "Great, I've got some trigger-happy jarhead running around, ruining all the progress I've made." She seemed to look right past me as she barked at Max. "Where's the Ph. D. certified brother with four years' training?"
"He's dead," I snapped, thoroughly annoyed with this woman. "It makes things hard for everything, but you'll excuse me for being the only thing you've got." Her glare seemed to intensify, as if she were trying to burn me to a cinder with her frustration. I stood my ground; I'd faced too many nightmares made flesh to be intimidated by some haughty science woman. She turned away from me to Norm, and began questioning him and speaking in some alien language, which Norm eagerly reciprocated. I sensed she hadn't backed down; merely put her assault on hold for another, less fortunate man.
With the knowledge that I'd start tomorrow, and the advice from Max to try and use big words, I made my way to the barracks. I was walking down the hall when I heard Colonel Quaritch behind me. "Hold it, Sergeant." I halted, turning to face the man. His eyes were calculating and cautious, as if I were a threat. I tensed; this guy was suspicious, and suspicion did not bode well, considering the secrets I had. The fact we were alone in the hall was suddenly very noticeable.
"I pulled up your file, Sully. Very impressive. Those tours in Venezuela were nasty." I nodded cautiously. His expression turned grim. "It's interesting; the medical report said your spine snapped from that sniper's bullet. You were about to be honorably discharged for being a paraplegic. After that, it just cuts off. Like someone tried to hide something." He regarded my perfectly functional legs, as I prepared for the worst. "I didn't live this long by not knowing things. What I want to know is how you could have possibly paid for a 400k operation with your pay grade and benefits, and I use the term lightly." He was silent, expectant.
"That's classified." I told him, falling back on the truthful answers that, I knew, would only provoke more questions, but I could tell this guy could smell lies. Before he could argue, I continued. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but I'm under gag order. Unless you've got presidential approval, I'm not at liberty to discuss the specifics of my treatment and the events pertaining. Have a nice day." With that, I turned on my heel and walked away. I felt his gaze boring into my back. He thought I was some arrogant punk, flipping him the bird. If he only knew…
I am, or at least I was, a member of Project SPECTRE. SPECial TRaining and Equipment made Delta Force look like the neighborhood watch. It was a top-secret, black ops operation that focused on using Unobtanium injections to create super-soldiers. Unobtanium was a superconductor, a self-contained energy circuit in every gram. Our leaders had been… curious about how it would affect a human being. After the discovery of Pandora, the current POTUS herself, along with SecDef had created the program to test how the human being could be enhanced by this miracle mineral.
I'd been randomly selected from a group of candidates, stolen in the night from my apartment while I'd still been adjusting to the wheelchair. My spinal had practically been a formality after I'd accepted, and I was thrust into the boot camp out of hell. I trained and learned and worked myself to exhaustion, in order to become a nonentity, a blade in the night. I could take apart and put back together any weapon you cared to name whilst blindfolded, could stalk past a grazing deer without alerting it, and could find half a dozen ways to kill someone by just glancing at them.
SPECTRE soldiers were strategically implanted with small amounts of Unobtanium straight into the bloodstream, bones, and brain. We were stronger, faster, and smarter than any other human. I'd become a marine to challenge myself, pass any test a man could pass. Now, there was nothing I could not accomplish. I could lift weights beyond the most devoted bodybuilders, run a marathon with the best, climb a mountain bare-handed. I was being molded into the perfect weapon. It had been liberating, after my brief stint as an invalid, but also scary, in a way.
The unit was small; twenty people at most, led by subject zero himself, who'd been codenamed Shadow. The White House was our babysitter, but it was Shadow who called the shots. I'd come to both admire and fear Shadow; I'd never actually met him in person, but his voice as it resounded from his hidden face as it outlined his strategies and orders for the mission brooked no questioning. It felt like talking to a ghost, untouchable and invisible. In the pecking order, we technically didn't exist, so we were able to do the missions no one liked to talk about.
Special ops worked on the really delicate stuff, like dictators and invasions. However, we focused on the stuff straight out of conspiracy theorists' ravings. We performed unspeakable operations, both on American soil and in foreign areas, cleanly, quietly, and perfectly. In the sixteen months I'd been on the squad, I'd accrued more nightmare material than all my years in the Marine Corps put together. SPECTRE was the thing that chewed you up and didn't bother spitting you out either end. You did badly, and you were killed in cold blood for interfering with the operation. You do well, and you were erased from public records and started working on ESP and Psychokinesis.
I'd been lucky to get the week off to see Tom off. Shadow had started dropping hints on putting me through the 'advanced' training. I'd been scared shitless of the whole program, but I was a die-hard patriot and I was comfortable that however heinous my actions, it was all for the greater good. I'd been both relieved and disappointed when RDA had taken it off my hands, though more the former if I was being honest with myself. Again, it was fairly shocking that RDA was entrenched that deeply, to be able to lift me straight out of the shadows.
I had no idea how my life was going to play out. My SPECTRE training had taken root in my whole life, making me act differently than anyone else, changing me from within. I briefly thought about what someone with my experience could do in a ten-foot indestructible Na'vi body. I shivered.
I found my cot, and went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. I was going to start working in my new body. I pushed thoughts of my personal demons to the back of my mind. Tom's dreams had led to me being brought into the light, and while I wasn't sure if I was comfortable anymore outside the anonymity of the shadows, I would adapt as I always had. I would take each day as it came, and to hell with the nightmares.
Surprisingly, those nightmares didn't rise to the bait. I slept peacefully for the first time in I don't even remember how long. When I awoke, Pandora's sunrise was shining through the window in the bunk room. The still-sleeping forms of the mercenaries were in the bunks around me, still operating on Earth-time. I, on the other hand, reacted to any and all light with instant awareness. I rubbed my sore muscles, and took a moment to fully analyze my body; my temporary brush with paralysis had made me realize how important it was.
The Unobtanium treatments from SPECTRE weren't consciously noticed; it wasn't like I suddenly thought as fast as a computer and buffed out more than a Neanderthal. My body had adapted overtime, the natural qualities of the substance diffusing into every aspect of myself. I could feel my muscles, thin and wiry like a triathlon-champ or a swimming prodigy, and dense from constant toning. My mind worked at its paces, becoming fully awake. In my perspective, it wasn't that I was doing better, just that everyone else was doing worse. I had to work hard to move slower, not use as much strength. I was like the Disney version of Hercules, not knowing how much I could do and having to take care not to break things by accident.
My senses had skyrocketed as well, giving me the eyes of a hawk, ears of a bat, and nose of a bloodhound. So, all I had to do to find the Mess Hall was follow the smell of warming food. I found myself accepting the algae packet and caffeine solution from a dour-looking soldier, before sitting in a corner and observing the other early risers. I ate my food, not really tasting it. When I finished, lacking anything better to do, I made my way towards the lab. I found none other than Dr. Augustine herself, going over some graph on a holo-pad.
She regarded me out of the corner of her eye, but otherwise ignored me. I paced around the room, observing the psionic pods in greater detail than I had yesterday. She abruptly broke the silence. "I talked to Parker. Unfortunately, I'm stuck with you. He said you come 'specially prepared' or some other bullshit, but as far as I care, you're just another gun-slinging idiot." She wasn't using an insulting tone, merely stating it as if it were truth, which was much more annoying. She looked up to face me. I met her gaze without hesitation.
"How's your Na'vi?" she asked, the talk assuming the atmosphere of an interview. "Nonexistent, but I'm willing to learn," I answered truthfully; the faster she came to understand me, the faster she would stop judging me without evidence. "How much do you know about the flora and fauna?" she asked. "Some, I read the manual." Her eyebrows disappeared into her hair, as her expression started screaming 'are you kidding me?' "Have you ever even been in a simulation pod?" I shook my head in response.
She stared at me incredulously before rubbing her temples, looking as if she needed nicotine to help her combat her newfound stress. "So, you thought you'd just come out here, to the most hostile environment known to man, and just… wing it?" She was looking at me as if I were the sole reason for all the problems in her life. If there was anything I'd learned from Tom, it was that scientists like to plan. They had questions, and formed plans to find the answers. When someone messed up their plans, it was a miniature doomsday. I was a big wrench in Dr. Grace's plans.
"Maybe I was hoping my ghosts couldn't follow me here," I said quietly, the answer leaving my lips without being formed first in my brain. However, as soon as I said it, I knew it was true; I'd left because I wanted to escape the heartless jaws of SPECTRE. Tom had merely been the catalyst. She seemed surprised by my answer, and the disapproval in her expression went down a little bit, replaced by mild curiosity, but there was still plenty of the first one left. She went back to her pad, leaving me in silence. I took it as a sign she didn't think I was totally useless; she'd have said so to my face if she did.
Seeing that her immediate irritation had disappeared, I felt myself asking her questions. Soldier's instinct; always trying to develop Intel. Plus, I was honestly curious. "These Avatars… they've been growing in pods. They've never done anything before. They're practically being born when we drive them for the first time." Grace looked up, suspicion and curiosity in her eyes. That's a scientist for you: always eager to answer questions and show off their knowledge to the ignorant masses. "That's correct," she said, keeping one eye on her graph.
"Does that mean I have to relearn how to walk?" I asked. If she answered yes, that would be a problem. If I were honest, I'd come to enjoy the fringe benefits of SPECTRE, including my lightning reflexes. I could live with my body not being doped up with Unobtanium, figuring that the alien body was already naturally better than any human one. But, training was training, regardless of your species in my mind, and I wanted to know if all my hard-earned CQC routines would be lost once I entered my Avatar.
She snorted in amusement, not seeing past the surface of my question. Her full attention back on her notes, she answered my question offhandedly. "The pods completely link the two nervous systems. The Avatar's nerves mold themselves into the general shape of the originals within the first hour. The mind is convinced that it should be shaped this way, so it forces the body to match. All muscle memory is transferred." I shrugged, trying to conceal how relieved I was. Big blue bad-assery, here I come.
I kept my mouth shut afterwards; with Quaritch already paranoid, the last thing I needed was another ring-leader overly curious about me. Patience was something I'd learned long ago; fortunately, I didn't need it now. The scientists liked to make the most of the day, and it was barely an hour after sunrise when all the scientists were assembled. I could see Norm, looking as if he was having a hard time not wetting his pants. I rolled my eyes at his childish eagerness, but I had to admit I was a tad pumped as well.
Grace herself led me to my own pod. She opened it, and I obediently settled into the soft foam mold where my human body would rest for the day. As she pulled down the sensors that would read and transmit my electrical impulses to my Avatar, she told me the ground rules with the pods. "Please keep your hands inside and your head down. Relax, and let your mind go blank. Shouldn't be too hard for you." I chuckled at her light-hearted jab, before she closed the lid and left me in darkness.
I listened to the rumbling of the machinery, before closing my eyes. I acted like I was about to go to sleep, systematically relaxing my muscles from my toes on up. I silenced all the distracting thoughts in my head, focusing only on my breathing, in and out, in and out. As the mantra filled my head, I experienced an odd sensation, like I was slowly sinking down through space. I tried to go with it, feeling no fear towards the new experience. It felt like my soul was slipping out of my body like it was a wetsuit, eager to inhabit the new body offered to it.
I felt myself completely slip from my flesh, and I was flying. Like an LSD addict's overdose, I was being hurtled through a twisting tunnel of multi-colored light. I couldn't tell you if I were moving forwards or backwards, only that I was soaring through a rainbow at dizzying speeds. I was moving to fast to feel; my emotions had been left behind at the starting line.
In a jolt that through me completely off balance, I was in a body once again. My mind flailed around, wondering which way was up as it settled into its new foundations. I felt jittery, but oddly tired, like I was coming down off an adrenaline high. Sounds were odd and jumbled, incomprehensible. I opened my eyes, and my vision was blurry. Slowly, as my conscious mind figured out where everything was, my vision cleared. Two scientists were hovering over me, wearing exo-suits, giving me a flashback of every cheesy alien movie I had ever seen.
"Good, he seems stable. Jake, can you hear me? I need you to do some tests for us. Can you sit up?" One of the faceless scientists asked, her feminine voice coming across as soothing. Blankly, I flexed my abs to bring my upper half vertical, and I became suddenly aware of how much taller I was. The scientists were staring at my chest. I looked down at myself, and saw I was in one of those hospital gowns, the kind with the tie-up back. I watched with disbelieving awe as I clenched my blue hands, with long, nimble fingers. I glanced at my long arms, curling my toes.
I became aware of an odd tingling at the base of my spine, like background noise in my thoughts. I looked over my shoulder, and saw a long tail waving in the air. Wow, a whole new limb. That would take getting used to. I turned to my left, to see the cat-like indigo version of Norm submitting himself to the scientists' tests, a look of childlike awe on his face.
The scientists around me were talking to me, trying to make me do their silly tests, but I was already reaching for the tubes and electrodes stuck on me. I didn't need this; I was perfectly fine, and I was going to walk out of here. I deflected the doctors' distress as I swiveled around and stood up. I strode up to the glass window separating me from the psionic chamber. I peered at my reflection in the glass. My hair was too long. I tried not to chuckle at the random thought. I suddenly felt cramped; the room was too small, too still. I wanted to be outside.
The scientists' were practically shaking when I took off at a light pace towards the entrance outside. I paid no heed to the trail of destruction my tail unintentionally caused. I was used to ignoring others who couldn't directly harm me; they couldn't exactly stop me, and at the end of the day they'd just say he was some idiot too stubborn to make sure the oh-so-important investment was safe before venturing out.
There was nothing but a simple door blocking me from the outside world. I opened it easily, and emerged into my first real time on Pandora. Freed from the confines of the exo-pack, I could fully appreciate the sun on my face, the wind blowing through the trees. My lungs breathed in the air, and to me it felt fresh, though some corner of my mind tried to remind me it was a cocktail of ammonia and other gases fatal to humans. I told that part to shut up; I wasn't a human right now.
I was in the Avatar section of the base, as different from the rest as black was from white. Whereas Hell's Gate was generally a place of strict work and dreariness, I found myself in a green recreational area. A basketball court and a few obstacle courses stood dominant in an area filled with native grass and plants, the result of the botanists' labors. Eager to warm up this new body, I ran down the aisle of one of the gardens, enjoying the feel of the soil beneath my toes and the exertion of running.
I stopped halfway down, slowing down from my mad sprint. My limbs were getting tired far faster than I cared for. Ah well, nothing my usual calisthenics over the next few weeks won't fix. I calmed my breathing, and extended my senses. I was amazed how intense everything was; it was like I'd been handed the power of my SPECTRE senses without the fine-tuned control I'd built overtime. Still, that could be ironed out. I listened to the rustlings of the forest, and the cries of the various animals that were only yards away from the walls. I watched as the trees bent and swayed with the wind and the hidden movements of the creatures within. I was breathing in almost comically through my nose, filling my lungs with the strange, unfamiliar scents, and committing them to memory.
"Hey, marine!" I broke myself from my musings, turning to see what was unmistakably Grace. She was wearing a tank-top and shorts that I knew must be extra larges', but looked tight on her giant body. Her feet were clad in sandals. She seemed much less uptight as one of the Na'vi, like all the troubles that plagued her human time had slipped away. She grabbed one of the fruits from a bush near her, and tossed it to me. I easily caught it. "Your motor functions look good," she noted, while I bit into the fruit. It was shockingly sweet, and I tried and failed to stop the juice from dripping down my chin. She smiled at my undoubtedly goofy expression; I hadn't had this much fun since I was a kid.
In short order, the chaos I'd caused in my 'unauthorized' trip was sorted out. I was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, along with sneakers that were the size of my human head. Norm was clumsy in his Avatar, and spent most of his time just staring at everything and asking questions from the other Avatars, Grace watching in the background, like a den mother.
I, on the other hand, went through the agility courses. At first, I was almost as clumsy as Norm. But as time went on, Dr. Augustine's words from this morning proved true. In no time, I was going through the tires, ropes, and various other challenges with all the panther-like grace I enjoyed in my normal body. However, there were inconsistencies; my body might now how to move the right way, but it wasn't used to it. I had the experience, but it didn't do much good until my body could catch up. My body was ready to react a certain way, but failed in the execution.
I did some light exercises, trying to make my muscles something workable. That took up a good chunk of my time. Basic pull-ups, push-ups, sit-ups, and stretches were easily done, but I was forced to take frequent rests. I tried not to notice how easy I was blistering. My Avatar's skin had never formed calluses, so all the heavy-duty parts of my body were fast approaching beetroot status. Half my normal workout routine accomplished, I found a clear area of grass.
I took a deep breath, completely filling my lungs. Slowly, I brought my fist forward in a controlled movement. With equal deliberation, I brought my right leg up in a kick, balancing myself on my remaining foot. I brought my foot down, before twisting around to deliver a jab from my elbow. I noticed people were stopping to stare, but I ignored them, my world shrinking to the small patch of grass in which I was standing.
My hand-to-hand combat was a mixture of boxing, muay thai, and aikido. I'd been trained by the literal best in SPECTRE, as I learned how to fight by the usual standards of the project: pitch perfect. With growing speed, I went through my routines, my mind not seeing the Avatar area, but a sea of formless enemies. I envisioned them attacking from all angles, and reacted accordingly. I lunged, feinted, moved with the grace of a predator, taking down each imaginary opponent with swift, coordinated movements.
I kept moving faster and faster, till my glands started pouring sweat from the intensity of my practice. With a flourish, I took out the last guy in my mind, holding my stance as best I could as I caught my breath. I noted where I'd gone wrong, and resolved to fix it. I slid my feet together until I was in a normal standing position, now uncomfortable with the sweat drenched in my clothes. The bright sun definitely did not help.
I heard applause. I turned around, to see I had a small audience, Norm at the forefront. He was the one clapping. "Wow! I knew that you could fight, since you're a marine and all, but whoa!" The others were murmuring among themselves, and I felt warmth flood my cheeks. I'd just been working on bringing my body back up to my usual standards; I didn't need praise. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary with what I'd just done, but I reminded myself that these guys were civilians, biologists and botanists; they weren't expected to fight.
I waved off the applause, my eyes scanning the area for anyone else who might have noticed. The good doctor was a short distance away, regarding me with a cautious curiosity. I don't know how much of a hint Parker might have given her, but I'd certainly just proved that I was, indeed, 'specially prepared' for the title of bodyguard. I noticed that the sun was going down; the day had flown by.
Dr. Grace rounded us all up, allotting me and Norm our own bunks in the covered shelter. "See you at dinner, guys," she said, making her way to her own bunk. I smiled, for what reasons I didn't know, before trying to fall asleep. Before I knew it, I was reliving my odd experience from this morning. Once again, I was flying through the tunnel, before all but slamming into my real, well-used human body. I felt an odd sense of loss; I was sad to be away from my Avatar, from the incredible sensations that ceased to dull.
Even as the pod was opened and Grace led me and Norm to the Mess Hall, informing us that we were going out tomorrow, my thoughts dwelled on what I'd just left. As I collapsed into my cot, I looked forward to the day ahead. Thoughts of Tom and SPECTRE were absent; I felt nothing but anticipation, anticipation to explore this incredible world in my new Avatar.
So yeah, I'm basically rewriting the story to fit the way I would have done it. I hope you guys will actually read this stuff. Please review, and look forward to more.