The mess hall doors open again and Strife walks in, taking a seat across the table. I pay him little notice and return to reading through my paperwork while trying to block out the incessant chatting in the room. It looks like the career adviser wasn't lying when he said I could apply for family quarters after basic training. I felt terrible pulling Serah from the sandy shores of Costa del Sol and into this awful place, but with my mother now gone, and no jobs for a fifteen year old in town, dropping out of school and joining the Shinra military was the only way to stop Serah being taken from me. I only hope she doesn't hate me for it. How did you do it, mom? Why is it so hard to be an adult?
"You okay?" A voice asks from across the table, and I glance up to find Strife looking at me, worried.
"I'm fine," I bark, trying to stiffen my resolve and remove the sad look that took over at the thought of my mother. I open my mouth to make small talk as my way of apologising for snapping at him when the door bursts open and Captain MacMillan enters the mess hall.
"Everybody up! You're now all members of Shinra's security force, so it's time you looked like it. We're gonna head over to inventory to get your issued kit. If you loose any of the equipment provided, you'll be running laps until your legs fall off. Is that understood?" MacMillan shouts.
"Yes, Captain!" We all reply in unison.
Following the Captain, I march towards the equally dull inventory building that stood at the end of the barracks complex, past the parade yard and the classrooms. Inside rows of metallic shelving lined the left wall and housed neat piles of folded uniform that were sealed inside thin, plastic bags. At the end of the shelves was a large caged off area containing the advanced Shinra helmets that MacMillan opens. I scan the shelves whilst trying to avoid the half drowned Baker, who was leaving puddles everywhere to find my size. After a few minutes I have a deep blue uniform, shoulder guards, webbing, gloves and a pair of boots.
It was easy to see who had joined the military for money like me and those who joined because it was their dream like Strife, who looked down at the pile of clothing in his arms with great pride. I wonder if it was the sense of adventure or misguided ideas of heroics that made them join. All I cared about was making sure Serah didn't have to throw away the childhood I sacrificed to keep us together.
"Once you've got all of your gear, take a helmet from the lockup and don't drop it," the Captain reminded us. "Ladies get changed in that room over there, gents do it in here."
With all of my gear in hand, I head into the other room that was empty apart from a few benches in the centre, followed closely behind by the other girls. I start by ripping open the plastic wrappers on the uniform before beginning to get undressed. I manage to get my combat trousers on when I hear one of the bimbos behind me snigger. Biting my tongue, I reach for my shirt when Baker opens her mouth.
"You lend your underwear off your grandma?" She mocks.
"At least I don't look like I've pissed myself, Baker," I growl.
"You kiss your mother with that mou-"
There was very few things that could send me into a rage, but mentioning my mother was one of them. Before she could even finish her sentence, I throw a punch at her, knocking her to the floor. Still enraged, I grab my webbing from the bench and throw it around her neck as I slam my knee into her back to keep her on the floor. Her face was in the floor but I could see her ears turning purple as I pulled tightly on the webbing.
"Farron!" I hear the Captain bark after the door bursts open.
It's only when I feel the officer's arm grips mine like a vice do I finally let go of the webbing and stand up. After watching Baker cough profusely as she tried to catch her breath, it dawns on me what I'd done and the consequences I could face. Best case scenario is I'm thrown off this course, making me and Serah homeless. Worst case, I could be court martialled and potentially sentenced..
"You have 30 seconds to finished getting changed or you'll be marching to my office as you are!" Captain MacMillan barked before heading to the door where the boys where. "Everyone else head over to the classrooms across the parade yard! Sergeant Riley will be waiting for you."
By the time he turns around again, I'm completely dressed. He lets out a growl as he fires a glare in my direction, but says nothing. I follow him outside and contemplate my future as we head back to the barracks. Inside he opens his office door and waits for me to enter before slamming it shut and taking a seat. I remain standing at attention hoping this would not be the end.
"What the hell was that, Farron?" The Captain asks bluntly.
I wanted to tell him nothing and just accept my punishment, but Serah's future and well-being is tied to my own. The thought of telling somebody the way to hurt me seemed like the stupidest thing in the world, and making excuses up was the last thing I wanted to do. Taking a deep breath, I prepare to tell him how weak I've become.
"She started calling me names, Sir," I reply sheepishly.
"Farron, you almost killed her. You're telling me you're that psychotic that you will choke someone to death over some teasing? What's gonna happen on the battlefield and you have some real stress?"
"She started talking about my mother..." I say, lowering my head.
"I read your file. Your mother died recently, correct?"
"Yes, Sir. I joined Shinra because I have a little sister to take care of now that I'm her guardian," I continue, swallowing hard while doing my best not to make eye contact.
"I see…." The Captain replies, pausing for a moment to read through my file. "It seems like you're a good kid. Good grades in school and you're doing a brave thing by looking after your sister on your own. No prior history of crime… Are your emotions gonna get the better of you again, Farron?"
"No, Sir. It won't happen again, Sir," I promise.
"It better not. Consider this your one and only warning. There's no point in returning to the class. You'll have to convince someone to copy their notes in your free time. You're gonna find the central armoury and speak to the chief armourer, Sergeant Browning. Then you're gonna help him set up the range for weapon training."
"Yes, Sir," I nod.
Relief washes over me as I exit the office, shutting the door behind me. That could have very easily gone another way, and I'm very grateful that it didn't. Determined not to piss the man off any more than I already have, I head towards the armoury to make myself useful. The buildings on the massive complex all looked exactly the same, but at least they were well labelled. Within a few minutes I make it to the armoury and head inside to find most of the inside was caged off. Access to the mountains of munitions and isles of guns was through a large gate that was guarded by a disinterested looking guard behind a desk.
"Captain MacMillan sent me to help set up the range for use," I explain.
"You'll be wanting our chief armourer, Sergeant Browning. He's somewhere in there," the guard tells me, opening the gate.
I walk down the narrow isles, careful not to bump into any of the rifles that rested on flimsy looking racking in search for the Sergeant. The place was like a maze and it felt like I'd been walking around the warehouse for ages with no sign of life. I stand still and look around in the hopes of focusing in on some movement through the racking when I notice a rifle resting barrel down, unlike all of the others. My hand instinctively grabs it to turn it the right way around when it dawns on me that this is the first time I've ever seen or held a gun before. My eyes wander over it, admiring the engineering that went into the weapon.
"So, is it heavier or lighter than you expected?" A deep voice asks, making me jump.
"Heavier," I reply, turning around to find a man who must have been in his late forties, dressed in an oil covered, blue uniform.
"They all say that," the man chuckles to himself. "Believe me, they get heavier the more you use them..." His eyes look to the ground briefly, as if remembering a terrible past. A moment later though, he forces a smile and looks up at me. "So I take it you've pissed off one of the higher ups, private?"
"Farron, Sir. Pretty much," I reply, hoping he wouldn't ask how.
"Well I hope you're feeling strong. If you head to the back of the warehouse there's an open roller shutter with a truck backed up into it. There's ten cases of ammunition and a couple of boxes of magazines near the shutter that need loading onto the truck. You do that while I sign the rifles out."
I head to the back of the warehouse where the dark silhouette of the truck looms in the large opening. The sunlight from outside robbed it of it's features until I got closer, where I spot a stack of green, metal containers on the ground. I grip the handle of the first container and lift, quickly realising these things must have weighed over twenty five pounds each. With all the force I could manage I heave the box above my head and onto the back of the truck.
"5.56x45mm 1000 rounds," I read the yellow writing on the box aloud, "One down, nine to go.."
My arms are burning by the time I finished putting the last box of ammunition on the truck. A few minutes of rest was all I could manage before the Sergeant returned with a trolley full of assault rifles.
"Relax. These are nowhere near as heavy individually," Sergeant Browning laughs as he catches me groaning at the sight of them. "You climb up and I'll pass them up to you."
Thankfully he wasn't lying and the truck was quickly loaded up and we were heading to the firing range. It takes us another hour to set up all of the rifles on the tables and load the ammunition into the magazines. Part of me was glad to get the experience of handling this stuff before the actual lesson, but I couldn't help worrying about what I was missing in the classroom; and after my violent outburst I highly doubt anybody would be too willing to help me catch up.
"Come here, kid," the Sergeant says, casually handing me a rifle he picked up from the tables. "The rest of the recruits will be here in ten minutes, so that leaves me with five to run you through the basics. Less chance of the Captain making your life miserable if you do well. Now, insert the magazine, pull the charging handle to the rear and let it slam forward."
I do as he says and push the loaded magazine into the base of the rifle. After I hear an audible click, telling me it was seated correctly, I pull the charging handle back and release it. The rifle makes that familiar sound that you always hear in movies and I think I'm ready to go.
"Take the rifle off safe and onto semi. When you're ready, line up the sights with the target and pull the trigger back slowly," Browning orders.
Gripping the rifle so tightly that my fingers were turning white, I tense up in anticipation of the shot and fire. In the distance, just to the left of the target dirt erupts from the backstop telling me I've missed my target.
"You're too tense. Widen your stance a few inches and move your left foot forward slightly. Take up the slack in the trigger, control your breathing and relax. The gun won't leap out of your hands so you don't need to strangle it," He laughs.
Taking in the advice given to me, I aim at the target once more. I slow my breathing and squeeze the trigger, sending a bullet down range. At first I don't see an impact, but the sound of the Sergeant clapping tells me I must have hit it.
"Well what do you know… a recruit who listens and follows instruction the first time. Nice shot, Farron. You've got twenty eight shots remaining if you loaded the mag properly. Get shooting and then return it to the table in the state I gave it to you."
I give the man a nod and train my eyes on the target again. I start off slowly, but after a couple of shots, I get more comfortable and increase my rate of fire until I pull the trigger one too many times and hear nothing but a click. Empty. After removing the empty magazine and cycling the weapon to make sure it was empty, I place it on the table and begin the tedious and aching task of loading the empty magazine.
"Look sharp, Farron," The Sergeant warns, gesturing to the Captain marching up to us with everyone else in tow.
Tanks for my review! Another boring one I'm afraid. I need the first couple of chapters to set the scene and then there will be much more action and interaction. I thought it might be too forced to have Cloud and Light buddying up after 30 seconds.