Hello all! I'm back with more words, sentences, and paragraphs for your viewing pleasure, but just a few things before I begin. I just want to say thanks to all you people who took the time out of your busy schedules to read through the first two chapters of the story. For lack of better expression, I truly appreciate it. Anyways, I do not own any of the characters, weapons, or places from the franchise used in the chapters, just Jason and my other OCs. Without further ado, here's chapter II!
CHAPTER II: SCRUBS
Praetorean HQ: Main Hall, 09:03 hours
Jason stepped into the massive building for the first time. He had wanted his first visit to be on the day he signed up for the Guard's training. The Main Hall was teeming with Lombaxes, most of them probably his age and all hoping to earn a spot on the recruitment list.
He moved forward through the throng and into the main hall, passing a small crowd gathered in the middle. It seemed that they were watching a card game between a couple guards and, from the sound of things, someone had just lost all their money. Moving past the groans of misfortune, he made his way to the back of the room, stopping briefly to grab the required recruitment forms from a small table. In ten minutes he had filled out the forms, and began moving towards the recruitment desk. To his surprise, he recognized the Lombax sitting there. His golden fur had started to gray, and he carried a few more battle scars than the last time they had seen each other, but his emerald eyes sparkled with recognition when Jason walked up.
"Well, well, if it ain't the metal-armed-menace himself." The man at the desk was the same lombax who had been assigned to protect him after his kidnapping. "And here I was starting to think you weren't gonna show up."
"You should know me by now, Jerry. I'm always fashionably late." Jason smiled mischievously. Jason had always found Jerry a bit mysterious and had asked about his past numerous times in the months they had spent together, but Jerry never wanted to talk about it.
"Yeah, but you'd better fix that soon. The Guard doesn't tolerate late scrubs such as yerself. Yer butt's gonna have to be outta bed, dressed, and ready to sweat bullets, by five or else I may have to resort to disciplinary measures."
"Wait…YOU'RE running the boot camp?" This was a shock, even to him. Boot camp drill sergeants had to be on top of everything at every second of the training, and Jerry….. Not so much.
"And you're surprised… figures. Don't think I'll go easy on ya just cause yer a friend. Oh no, yer getting the same treatment as everyone else. Scrub treatment. Oops, hang on just a minute", Jerry glanced at the watch on his wrist. "I'm gonna have to get things started here soon. Scrubs are required to leave their personal items and weapons with the Tool Safety Authorities before assembly in the Main Hall. I'll see ya tomorrow during yer training." And with that, Jerry walked off.
Jason continued onto the next area, dropping off his wrenches and bag with the TSA's, and entered the Main Hall empty handed. It was several minutes before Jason saw Jerry approach a podium at the front of the room.
"Recruits, can I have yer attention! Excuse me! HEY! SHUT UP! Thank you. From what I'm told, you scrubs are here to test yer skill against the other scrubs in this room to win a spot on our new recruits list. Now, I won't lie to ya. The difficulty of the training regimen could feasibly crush, maim, injure, burn ya to a crisp, or even kill ya, but, ya knew that when ya signed up. If any of you scrubs wish to leave now, none of us will hold it against ya." A few cowardly Lombaxes slunk out of the room, but most held their ground. Jerry didn't speak again until they were all gone.
"What a bunch of pansies! I was only joking. Each of you scrubs will be assigned to a guard member who will give ya a tour of the facilities over the next few hours. From here you will enter the Mess Hall where you will find yer guide holding up a placard showing yer name, nickname, etcetera, etcetera. You scrubs can read right? You will also be taken to the firing range to test what guns yer good with and what other weapons may suit yer...eh...style. At the end of the day you will receive bedding and a pack filled with necessities. DON'T. LOOSE. IT. Approved personal items will also be returned to you at this time. I expect you all up and in the Mess Hall tomorrow morning by o- five hundred. If yer not there, I can't say where ya might end up, but I can say it won't be here, capisce? Anyways, I'll let you go now. Don't get lost. Dismissed…" He glanced around the room. Not a soul moved from where they stood, still staring at their commander. "What the hell are you still standing here for!? LEAVE! GO!GO!GO!" And with that every single lombax burst into the Mess Hall to search for his or her guide.
Jason moved in last as to not get caught in the stampede. The Mess Hall had become a mad-hall, with Lombaxes rushing to and fro, every which way. It was total chaos. Those who had found their guides were walking out of the room to enjoy a "nice" conversation; a sort of calm before the storm.
He found himself walking about the hall slowly, looking closely for his guide, but no matter how hard he looked, he could not find his name. He was about to give up and ask Jerry for help when he felt a tapping on his shoulder. Instantly, his reflexes kicked in and he pinned the lombax to the ground.
"WHOA MAN! CHILL OUT! CHILL OUT!" The lombax he'd caught off guard seemed to be about as tall as him, with golden fur and a nick in his left ear. A single wrench was strapped to his back. It was then that Jason finally realized who the man was.
"Who the he.… Ivan?! GEEZ! How many times have I told you NOT to sneak up on me like that!?" Ivan was the only friend he'd had back before they had returned to Fastoon. He had only seen him twice since the incident years ago. Ivan was older than him by two years. They were nearly inseparable as kids, but Jason couldn't remember ever hearing that Ivan joined the guard. They'd lost contact about three years ago.
"I dunno. Maybe ten, maybe fifty?"
"One hundred twenty seven."
"Meh. I was never good with numbers. Also, in here they just call me 'Notch.' The guys here like to make up nicknames for the newbies, and, well…mine stuck. You can guess how I got it." he said, comedically pulling on his ear.
Jason remembered exactly how Ivan damaged his ear. It happened the last time they'd met. Let's just say there was a wrench in someone's hand and a steak knife perched on a dinner plate. It wasn't pretty.
"Anyways, it seems I was lucky enough to draw your name, so I'll be your guide throughout your potentially painful training experience." Jason hadn't expected this. He had been expecting to be paired up with some weirdo…well, weirdo in the sense that….um.. well, at least he knew the guy. The nickname thing seemed questionable, but he wasn't about to argue if Ivan was ok with it.
"That's awesome, man! So what's first?" He was eager to get on with the tour, and to catch up with his old friend.
"Well, I was thinking maybe we could get some grub, and then go check out the armory and hit the firing range. Get you equipped for your training. You up for it hotshot?" Ivan paused, expecting an answer soon.
"Sure. Why not."
"Great! But, uhh…you're gonna have to pick up the check, man. I kind of just lost all my bolts in a game of poker."
After a well deserved lunch, the two headed to the firing range, making no other stops along the way. The range was on the other side of the building, so they had plenty of time to catch up. Apparently, Ivan hadn't changed much since he last saw him. He was still the fun loving lombax he hung out with as a kid, just older, and possibly more experienced.
"Well, here we are. Make yourself at home. You'll probably spend at least half of the next seven weeks cooped up in here. Looks like nobody's been here yet."
The firing range was a huge room, about the size of two Mess Halls. The front of the room held a green space, set up for wrench to wrench sparring. At the back of the room stood twenty firing bays equipped with practice dummies, each with several bullet holes already embedded into the frames.
"You're a lucky man, you get the first choice of weapons. First of all we'll need to get you a wrench, the-"
"Already got two."
"You're kidding? How in Polaris did you get ahold of them? Aren't they impossible to get outside the guard?"
"Made 'em myself. Apprenticeship. You jealous?"
"Okay then… well in that case, all you need is a gun you can handle. Thanks dude. You just made my job a whole lot easier." With that Notch led the lombax to the Armory.
Jason's jaw dropped as he entered. The room was almost as big as the Mess Hall, with rows upon rows of unused guns, knives, and other "Tools of Destruction". Most were low leveled, but Jason swore he saw an Alpha Canon in the corner. Each row had a different class of weapon, each column a different brand. If he didn't know better he'd say that the room held every Gadgetron, Megacorp, and GrummelNet product ever made, and then some. The people who named this room should have named it something like the "Every Weapon In Existence Room". Just plain old "Weapons Room" made it seem like a toddler's playground.
"Hey Jason? You still alive there?" Jason snapped back to reality.
"Huh? Oh… yeah, sorry Iva-err…Notch. What were we doing again?"
"Wow, man! Open your ears this time. We're gonna have you test out a few simple weapons from each of the different weapon classes, and then decide which you like best, okay?"
"We're gonna be here a while aren't we?"
"As long as it takes." Notch pulled a Megacorp Lancer off the wall. Jason sighed as he accepted the weapon.
It had been nearly four hours. Cadets had come and gone through the now crowded training yard but Jason and Notch were still working their way through the arsenal. Jason had tried almost every weapon type he could carry. He did okay with most of the pistols, but they all felt awkward in his hand. He could hardly lift the Missile launchers, and his shotgun skills were less than average. He had done alright with most of the gloves, but they weren't classed as primary weapons. No sense in picking a pea shooter. He was about ready to throw in the towel for the day, but Notch insisted on trying one more weapon.
"Come on Jason. One more won't hurt, and besides, it's the last weapon class we stock here. After that, we can leave. Okay?"
Jason was skeptical, but he gave in. "Fine, Fine! One more. But after that I wanna figure out where I'm sleeping tonight."
Notch, who seemed satisfied with his small victory, walked back to the Armory. He paused for a second, pondering which firearm to give him. Chuckling to himself, he finally pulled an older model off the wall.
"There ya go. A nice Megacorp Pulse Rifle. Pretty decent power, two upgrade phases, a state-of-the-art scope, a grade B tripod, and plenty of ammo. All that and a bag of chips. Am I right?"
"Hello Doctor. Can I get a ride to 2003 please?" Jason took the gun hastily, just wanting to get it over with. He stormed out to the range, making sure not to drop anything as he went. He took a deep breath, then calmly set up the tripod, loaded the sniper and took aim. Jason peered through the scope and fired. It only took about five seconds to empty the clip. The whole interaction took place in less than 2 minutes.
"Geez! Remind me not to get on your bad side."
"So are we finally done?" Jason was tired, irritated, and sore from carrying guns back and forth all afternoon.
"I don't know, man. You tell me." His friend gestured toward the dummy at the end of firing bay. Every single shot had met its mark and the head had vaporized into thin air.
"I suppose you're your mother's son after all."
THANKS FOR READING! If you like what you see, let me know in the reviews. I'd love to see some support for the story. Constructive criticism is welcome in polite quantities. Anyways, thank you and I hope to see you again for Chapter III.
~STG
