Welcome to the first little bonus chapter to Part 4!
Hidden Specialty
"Why am I sitting here again?" is a thought going through his head right now as the truck trundles along the road.
Sitting underneath the tarpon cover of the vehicle, squeezed in between other recruits like him. He can just about move his shoulders without annoying anyone else. Everyone is dressed the same and the haircuts are pretty equal across the board. No hair? Then you stay that way. Got hair? No more. No matter the biological gender, aside from fur color or species, everyone is equal. Equally worthless. A gray mass, ready to be molded into the perfect soldier by the assigned Drill Sergeant. And until you are a soldier in their eyes, you are nothing but unorganized grabasstic pieces of… the idea is pretty clear.
And yet that is not what he was told was going to happen. Sure, he got through the selection process like everyone else. But he already went through all of this stuff before. And more! It is hard to feel not superior to those around him considering his own pedigree, but he has nothing to show for it.
Still, he knows he does not belong here with the rest. Perhaps he could ask the base commander what is going on? He leans forward, twiddling his thumbs in deep thought. As he does, he notices something he did not before. He can see various colored ribbons tied to the upper right arms of everyone but him. He did not receive any at all. Which both reinforces his inner thoughts that he should not be here at all but also makes him hesitant about eventually arriving at the base. What if they think that he was trying to be smart and evade duty?
Now that he notices, he sits upright again so that the rest does not notice the absence of his. None are actively looking though, all stuck in their own little worlds, but he will not take any risks. The Army and a high school could sometimes be very alike, when it comes to shunning or being different. And if they see that he has nothing bound around his upper arm, who knows what rumors will come up? Better keep to himself for now.
As the coyote keeps his thoughts bottled up, the truck takes a sharp left turn and enters the military base. It stops at some point, starts reversing into a three-point turn before stopping altogether. The engine is turned off and everyone inside awakens to commotion outside. Two locks are heard opening and then the backdoor opens up like a drawbridge. Harsh sunlight shines through, blinding all that were looking towards it.
Once the eyes adjust, they can see a massive base appear before them. Made off green grass, paved roads, firing ranges, bunkers and obstacle courses galore. Those already in training can be seen being herded along in a long march or run. The massive engine of a Landmaster tank can be heard in the distance before its cannon discharges and likely leaves its target wishing it were never born. As if the display of projected power was not enough, two starfighters fly over, leaving a trail of white smoke in the sky.
"Alright, maggots! Welcome to Camp Rhoam! Now, out of that vehicle!" a very stern and impatient sounding voice bellows from just outside of the truck.
The voice belongs to a wall of a man. An absolute muscle nightmare dressed in a uniform that just about fits him. His rank of Master Sergeant is clearly visible. The image of him holding a clipboard and being essentially the welcoming committee almost feels surreal. Although it is admittedly effective to shut everyone up and get them in line.
Next to him, stands a much scrawnier and smaller individual with the rank of Corporal. Likely his push-around boy. Around the back of him, are four other important looking people. Three men and one woman, all looking stiff and standing at attention. Although less physically impressive than what can be assumed their boss is, he would not dare challenge either of them to even a friendly game of arm wrestling.
"You donkeys deaf or something? OUT!"
No one present has to be told a third time and they all hop out. The Sergeant then starts to spout more orders that have to do with the given colors. Those wearing a green one, go to the one person on the big man's left. Those wearing yellow, go to the one to his back left. Those wearing red, go to the person on his back right. And finally, those wearing blue go to his right. And they better double-time it.
The coyote jumps out like the rest of them but is unsure where to go. Given that he is wearing no color at all. Standing in the middle of two rows of moving people who at least look like they know where they are supposed to go. It reminds him of being lost in the mall while he was just a little kid.
He is eventually noticed by the Master Sergeant, who takes personal exception to this coyote standing there clueless as hell. He points and shouts at him to draw his attention and makes him come towards him. Afraid that he will come to him otherwise, the coyote double-times towards the hunk and stands at attention.
"Got shit in your ears, recruit?" he asks at normal volume.
But before an answer can be given, he is barked at for his name.
"Adam Goddard, Sergeant!"
"Got shit in your ears, Adam?"
"No, Master Sergeant!" is the coyote's clear answer.
"Then why aren't you joining the group with your given color, recruit?"
The tone is getting slightly more angry and the volume is getting cranked up. He has to keep an upcoming shiver under control.
"Because I did not receive any color, Master Sergeant!"
The muscles on his face raise an eyebrow, wondering if he is being fooled. But one look at the otherwise ribbon-less upper arm, he realizes that the coyote is telling him the truth. He starts to scratch his head, in which very likely some very choice words are starting to form for whoever messed this up.
He then turns to his Corporal, who reminds him that this was expected to happen. It is that special exemption case they were informed about yesterday.
"Oh… that one."
The Sergeant glances over to Adam, looking mighty unimpressed.
"Are we sure?"
The Corporal non-verbally agrees with his superior but also confirms that it matches the description given.
"Stars have mercy on this cornstalk. Right then; Corporal! Lead this colorless puke towards his destination while I get the mobs here organized."
The Corporal salutes, grabs Adam by the sleeve and pulls him out of the commotion as the Master Sergeant raises his voice to once more assume control over the process.
As he is being dragged away, it only confirms his inner thoughts during the truck ride. He knew it was not supposed to be with the rest of them. Likely this was just the easiest way to get him here. But the Corporal is quick to remind him that he is not here to be acting privileged. Perhaps mumbling instead of keeping his thoughts to himself, was not the best strategy.
Adam apologizes and blames the long ride over. The Corporal is not interested; he is just following the given order. As long as the coyote follows him, no more chit-chat is needed.
He is led towards a more forested part of the base where some officers in training are being taught in the shade. Both in battle theory but also in basic combat judging by those practicing in the background.
Once they reach a clearing, he is hit in the face with a strong gust of wind first thing. It quickly dies down and he can see several rows of long semi-circular, one story buildings designed like bunkers. With each having their own path leading up to it and with at least a few meters distance between them. All look alike both in color and in general appearance with the same gray-ish green tint to them. What is perhaps most noticeable, is that there is not a single soul or activity here. Not even a peep is audible here.
Then they stop in front of a particular building. While it has the same color as all the rest, the door on it, is clearly different. Whereas the others look standard, this one is reinforced. And there is an inactive red colored light hanging above it, which is lodged into either a concrete or metal triangle shape.
The Corporal then puts his hand on Adam's shoulder and gestures with the other arm towards the building. He then tells the coyote that this will be his new home before wishing him good luck. And not in a very supportive way, but more in a "I am throwing you to the sharks now" type of way. The Corporal then leaves to rejoin his Sergeant and leaves Adam with two choices now. Either he is brave and steps up the walkway towards that now even more ominous looking door, or he tucks his tail in between his legs and leg it.
He has come this far, so the latter is not an option. He focuses himself and remembers why he is here in the first place; to become the seventh member of a White-Out unit.
Un-welcome
It should not be this hard. He stood before more impressive doors before after all. The door towards the final examination room for example was like a gateway to hell. But this… it feels very different somehow. He is going in there to prove himself but unlike with an exam, the people inside are completely unknown. Plus he is almost sure that the red light is somehow looking at him.
He shakes his head quickly, stands up straight and gathers all of his courage before walking up the path towards the door. Halfway through, he is halted by an alert sounding, making him stop dead in his tracks. His instant reaction is that there is a mine somewhere, his second and immediate reaction after is how stupid that is on a Cornerian military base.
Then, it turns out his feeling about that eye was real. Because the gray triangle is actually moving now as the red light turns on. Revealing it to be an eye of some sort and it is looking straight at him.
"Identify yourself." it speaks in a quite haughty, yet cheeky tone of voice.
It is posh, along with a hint of maliciousness. It almost sounds like how a normal person would speak, which for a machine like this is quite fluent. Only the trained ear could make out that there was a little unnatural discrepancy between syllables in the first word. But he doubts that this machine is interested in his opinions.
"Uh… Recruit Adam Goddard. I was brought here because I didn't… have a colored ribbon. And the Corporal brought me here but he's… gone now."
The eye keeps staring at him. The "pupil" of it then shrinks, like it is focusing on his every being. Almost piercing straight through him. He is half expecting a laser to burn a hole straight through him.
"Identification confirmed. Approach the door and await for it to open." the voice then states as the triangle sinks back into its hold.
The eye turns off right after, like it is going back into sleep mode. And yet he still feels that it is looking at him. With his own eyes locked onto it, he walks towards the door. Until he has to bend his neck too far back and breaks the eye contact. He now stands before the door and waits for it to open like instructed.
As he does, he leans in a little to see if he can hear anything behind it. He does not hear anything coming from behind it, but he does hear that something is happening with that triangle. Some kind of mechanical whirring and perhaps a hatch opening.
What he cannot see, is that the triangle has turned itself around a full 180 degrees and is now facing inwards. Alerting those present within of the existence of their guest. The group he addresses, are not thrilled at all. They have been dreading this moment and their leader knows this. He shares their opinion but there is nothing he can do about it.
The leader takes responsibility as he stands up and walks towards the front door. He shouts behind him that everyone should be at least a little bit courteous towards him; he will try to be as well. Which receives the "enthusiasm" he was expecting.
Outside, Adam is pretending to be enjoying the sun while he waits for something to happen. Nervousness is coursing through his veins the longer this takes. Finally, he hears something behind the door. It is the sound of locks getting opened. With one more undone, the door opens. The light of the Solar enters the otherwise pretty low-light environment, while in turn the air of the thick and tense atmosphere oozes outside to meet him. Like a cold waft of wind from a walk-in freezer.
Across from him, stands a male corsac fox of medium build and height. With wild blond hair that turns to red at the back towards his neck. It is very clear that this is not standard military issue. Further evidence, is the red as heck small mustache underneath his nose, the barbed wire tattoo draped over the top of his muzzle and the three black splotches of paint on either of his cheeks likely for camouflage purposes.
It is very clear that this man prefers comfort to any fashion sense, judging from something as small as the dirt on his boots to something as obvious as the generally tasteless blue, short-sleeved Aloha-type shirt is wearing underneath his pocket-filled vest. The rest is useful enough. Perhaps the most striking thing, is the absence of a tail. Although fox tails are not typically long, one could at least see them either in between the legs or on either side of their hips.
Without saying anything, the corsac fox beckons him in. But not heartedly; more that he has to let him in or he will be in trouble. The glassy stare along with the strong inhale through his nose gives that away instantly. Feeling as welcome as he could be, he steps inside.
He is now inside of a tiny room just big enough for four people to be uncomfortably close to each other, cordoned off from the main rooms ahead by a thick, metal wall with only very slim vision slits scattered through it. With one more door to his left, likely for the bathroom. On the right, is a coat rack. Which shows that there are more people in here. Below it, stands a big bronze box with an antenna sticking out from the top of it, betraying it to be a radio of some sorts.
"Took that Corporal long enough to send us someone who didn't instantly brown his trousers and turn around the moment they needed to be identified. So… this is what was chosen as our number 7, huh?" the corsac fox says as he folds his arms before looking Adam up and down.
"Huh. They did you dirty. Gave you the recruit treatment like everyone else. Perhaps it is for the best; you'll be judged slightly less."
Before he can ask anything about that given comment, the fox tells him to hang up his overcoat on the coat rack. Which he does; he is wearing a plain beige shirt underneath so that is no trouble.
"Right then. Adam… Goddard if I have that correct?"
"Yes, that is me."
"Good. My name is Lieutenant Trevor DeLange. Of the 35th Special Vanguard Unit. Ever heard of it?"
Adam shakes his head.
"Then we've done our jobs well. Let's run through this as quickly as we can. Basics first; forget my name. Only address me as Lieutenant, Bones, Sir, 7-1 or Sarge. Don't ask about that last name, it just stuck. You're on the cusp of becoming the seventh member of a very special group of people. A White-Out unit; Nova 7. These are people with whom I went through hell and back with to exterminate the bugs, turn the tide of a major war and prevent another."
He sighs.
"And we are not thrilled to have you here. It is not personal; it is because you were forced upon us. Some bright person on the Board or in Command thought we needed something akin to a negotiator to give any enemy threat a chance to come quietly."
"To… muzzle you in essence?" Adam adds, before realizing he might have overstepped himself.
The corsac fox points at him but not to shut him up. In contrast, he says that the coyote is on the point with his remark.
"They are afraid of us. They don't need to be; our loyalty to Corneria is second to none. But they need assurances. Hence your presence. So, do not expect any more cordiality than what I'm already giving you. It's not fair, it's not nice. But it is how it is. Prove yourself useful and you'll see yourself fitting in here soon enough. Deal?"
The Lieutenant's comment feels forward, blunt but genuine. It makes it clear that it is not an attack on his person for who he is, but why he is here. He is the one put in by commission, not by themselves. Which he assumes means that every member was handpicked by either the Lieutenant or someone a little higher in the picking order who really knew what they were doing.
Adam, with this knowledge in the back of his head, agrees to the terms. Which the Lieutenant approves of as it is brave to step into the lion's den like this. He then looks up, signals something with his finger and a buzzer goes off. A lock is heard disengaging and the buzzer dies down. A portion of that metal wall opens up like a door and the Lieutenant beckons him to come along. Which Adam does.
He is now being led inside the main hall. It is rather empty, with all of the windows covered by a green tarp to make sure no one can look inside. It creates a darkened, almost swamp-like atmosphere. Luckily it does not smell like one. He passes by a set of beds that were clearly once a bunk bed but were sawed in half to accommodate the people present. With one clearly left unslept in.
They walk towards the back and into view of four other figures sitting at a table under the only turned light in the building. And none look so happy to see him here, no matter the gender.
On the left, there sits the only other male preset; an arctic fox with rust-colored spots wearing what looks like more appropriate military gear. However, he is also wearing what looks like a medieval piece of plate armor, to which a wire is connected that runs up into one of his nostrils. The look in his eyes, hollow yet with a dash of uncomfortable menace, is perhaps the most striking and the least attractive part of him. That, along with the fact that he is dangerously twiddling with a knife in his off-hand.
To his direct right, sits a gray female rabbit lavishly splayed out. With her big, bulky platform boots resting on the table while she is hanging back into the backrest of the chair. The chair itself balances on its hindlegs. Her ears are bigger than her head and she has a bandage on her left cheek. Her uniform looks very professional and neat, aside from the patch on her left pant leg. And not to forget those boots. Her first response towards Adam's presence is an entertained, half-smile. But when she sees the Lieutenant, she puts her feet down with a puff.
To her right, sits a female red kangaroo with even redder hair. It is long, ending up into two braided tails draped over each shoulder. Adorned with green beads. Her outfit is anything but standard, consisting of only a black-gray crop top with matching combat trousers and boots. Her right arm is completely barren whereas her left is adorned with a band on her upper arm and what looks like an armored fist around her hand. Her tail also had a stubbed band wrapped around the middle. She is not looking all that impressed.
And finally, there is a female brown dog standing up with her hands on the table. With medium, black hair and golden dragon-shaped ear ring coiling around her right ear. What she is wearing, is even less professional. A cross between a camper and one who lives in the jungle with that loincloth. No boots are present, nor are shoes for that matter. Despite her somewhat slender appearance, he gets the feeling that she is not one that would snap easily. He can see that a spot on her right shoulder looks redder and more raw than the rest, indicating that she shoots right-handed and that whatever she shoots, has some kick to it.
"Oh, Sarge. Couldn't resist letting an orphaned puppy in and out of the rain?" the white-furred vulpine quips sarcastically.
Which answers the mild curiosity Adam had for who was calling a Lieutenant a "Sarge". The Lieutenant then chuckles in response before bringing the hammer down
"This is not just any puppy. Gents… this is that puppy."
The fiddling with the knife abruptly stops as the knife is flung into the table. No one is startled by this, except Adam. If the knife were still usable, it could cut through the tension created.
"Exactly. Now, let me introduce you to the people that I hang out with. Starting from the numerical beginning. The bunny over there, is Corporal Ashley. Codename Patches. She is our Infiltrator. Or to you, 7-2 or Ma'am. She is my 1 and second-in-command. When I'm not home, she is the one you listen to."
He turns to the kangaroo.
"That is Militia Kip. She is our Operator. Or to you, 7-3. If you mind her rank or mercenary side job, she'll mind your face and I'll let her. She is my steadfast partner and I trust her blindly on the battlefield."
He turns further to the right.
"That is my wife. AKA Militia Calamity as our Bruiser. Codename Boogeywoman. For you, 7-4 and off-limits. Mind yourself and she'll mind your existence. Touch her and you'll be dead before I can get my hands on you."
The attention is shifted all the way to the left now.
"Over here, we have my old and current friend Private First Class Roger. Codename Phantom. He is our Ghost. For you, 7-5. He is my shadow, whether I know it or not. Whether you know it or not, depends entirely on whether you're still alive or not."
He swings Adam and himself around a full 180 degrees as he points to the gray, triangular outline above the door.
"And that over there, is our resident tamed, renegade artificial intelligence; PAL. Hey buddy, don't be shy."
The part of the wall spins around its own axle and now the red eyed gray triangle has a name. It then decouples itself from the wall and starts floating towards the Lieutenant and Adam. Making no noise at all and reminding him of an owl gliding to its prey. However, the A.I. stops before touching him. Instead, it just observes Adam. Who is getting a little uncomfortable.
While he is, he can see the finer details of the machine. How for example he has another light at the top of his casing that seems to indicate his emotion. Because it does not have any face. The closest it comes to having a mouth, are the speakers at the lower part of the casing. And how the buttons above it, are literally nothing but decorative pieces. He can see that some work has been done around its eye. Almost like it can open up and reveal the insides.
Before he can get more details, PAL then gently floats out of view while keeping his eye on him as long as possible, before attaching himself to Phantom's armored backplate. The arctic fox takes in a deep breath when he does, indicating that the A.I. is providing him with oxygen. In turn, the eye starts lighting up, likely because he is being charged. Creating an interesting dynamic where both parties need each other to survive.
"For you, he is 7-6. He is our answer to various tech problems that even 7-5 cannot fix. But also, the most unhinged out of all of us. Hence why I emphasized "tamed" the way I did. And that… leaves you. Our number 7. Like I said before, you were forced upon us. So while on paper you are Nova 7-7, know that none of us consider it so. Again, it's not personal. You seem like a bright, nice guy. But you have a long road ahead of you." Trevor explains, person to person instead of as a Lieutenant to a subordinate.
"I understand, Lieutenant. I'll do my best to live up to the expectations. I've come this far." Adam sighs.
"Hm. Brave words." Calamity comments, mildly amused.
"Anyone got any advice for your new guy?" Trevor then asks.
Phantom pulls the knife from the table and slides it back into its scabbard.
"I got some." he then speaks.
"Don't force it. Take it from me and PAL; before you, the newest additions to the team. Don't force it. Be yourself. Let it flow naturally. Don't give us the Macbeth attitude. In other words, ego has no place here."
He points towards the ladies of the team.
"Am I right?"
All three nod.
"There you go. That's my advice."
Adam nods quickly as he takes it all in. Making mental notes of everything.
"Anyone else?"
It remains quiet as everyone seems to agree with Phantom's piece.
"Good. Then, Gents, what do you suppose we do now?" Trevor asks rhetorically, as if he is not the leader of this team.
"I want him to play with us." Patches states with a toothy grin.
"Right now? The poor boy has barely arrived here."
"So he's still impressionable." she emphasizes a little cheeky, to which Trevor has no counter.
He gestures to somewhere behind the table and Patches is already on her way. The rest soon follows, also getting giddy as they know exactly where this is going. Trevor nudges Adam to follow along and the coyote does so with a little clump beginning to form in his throat. What type of "playing" are they talking about?
As he comes closer to the rest and nearing the other end of the building, he finds that they are opening a hatch that is in the ground. Pushing aside a fake tile to reveal a thick rope on which they pull. The hatch is opened and a ladder descending down to a tunnel is revealed. The tunnel leads underneath the wall towards somewhere unknown.
Patches leads the group, followed by Calamity, Kip and Phantom with PAL attached before Adam is goaded to come along. Trevor is bringing up the rear and if Adam heard it all correctly, he was counting those going down. Once down, the corsac fox closes the hatch behind him with a slam. Which triggers the fake tile to slide back into place.
The tunnel itself is lit by yellow, low-power lights hanging on each side of the fundamental bars that hold the tunnel up. It is just tall enough for the tallest member of the team to walk upright but only wide enough for one single person. And it might be nerves, but despite the tunnel not being that long, it feels like it takes about an hour to get through. Maybe it is a coping mechanism? Again, that feeling of standing in front of that door bubbles up again. Although it is very much possible that this PAL thing, which has not stopped looking at him, might be doing something to mess with him.
Another ladder leads up to the surface but this latch looks a lot more advanced. First of all, it is metal instead of wood. And just a fleeting look at it, already shows that it requires more than a push to open up.
Then PAL's eye starts to light up and a voice comes from a speaker attached to the door. The voice is welcoming, if a little bit teasing and identifies as Frank. The team and Frank seem to go way back, especially considering how informal he corresponds with Patches. After some cute back and forth, the hatch unlocks and they are allowed out.
They all emerge and Adam instantly sees the barrel of a machine gun pointed at him. Poking out from a porthole in the wall. The startle it triggered, amuses the operator and he quickly identifies himself as this Frank fellow from before.
"So this is the new fellow? Another for the pile?" he boasts.
"You haven't got rid of that?" Patches moans, playing along.
"If you keep piling them on faster than I can burn them…"
"Alright, alright, Frank, you can it now." Trevor shushes.
"Same to you, Patch. We're here to train our new member, not to traumatize him with words."
He then points ahead of him.
"We'll let our actions do that for him instead."
Adam sees what is ahead of him; a massive playground of obstacles and set-ups. All controlled by a complex system of ropes and other assets currently attached to the ceiling. As well as a network of interchangeable and moveable tiles on the floor. With this, they could recreate various battlefield scenarios. All housed within a big building that is, after he has been told about it, coated in an adaptive camouflage so it is invisible to the naked eye.
It is very impressive, if a little daunting. Although according to Trevor, this is nothing compared to what they have at their home base before he directs the coyote's attention to his right. Where there is a big wooden tower with an observation deck which would allow anyone up there to overlook the whole field. And now it is time to decide who goes up there. Because Patches is clearly the most excited to put Adam through the wringer, she goes last. They will go from highest to lowest in terms of their assigned number. Which means PAL is up first.
Although Patches grumbles, she will save the best for last. And as PAL ascends up to the tower, Trevor can see that Adam is both nervous and ready for whatever is coming.
"Right then. I can see you're about as ready as you'll ever be. Allow me to console you with this; As much as it looks and feels like a bullying session, all of us had to go through this. Even myself, with my old and lazy bones." Trevor says, as the end of this sentence triggers some bemused responses from Patches and Calamity.
"No one is perfect, but sadly you have the misfortune of being forced upon us. But we're professionals; we won't be any harder on you than we've been to each other."
While that sounds soothing, Kip makes sure that he knows that it will take until either number thinks that he passes their test. Only then, will the next person ascend the tower. And he is not lucky by starting with PAL. Who has just taken control of all of the controls on the tower. Over the loudspeakers, he briefly introduces himself before he creates his own idea of a tough test. Working the floor tiles and the system of pulleys and ropes on the ceiling with clockwork accuracy and proficiency.
7-6: BioMechanical
"Welcome. As 7-3 already said, starting with me as 7-6, does not mean you are lucky. I was the most recent to join and my struggle to ascend that ladder has been one of accepting who I am. What I am."
The metal around his eye begins to open up and out of the shell, comes a small collection of shimmering turquoise tendrils that wave up and down like they were freely floating in water.
"I have been introduced to so many new concepts and have learned so much in a relatively short time. I have trusted, lost and gained trust. I have hated, loved, felt confused and elated. Learned with friendship and love meant… but also how fragile it is. I have seen your test results and you have excelled above your peers. But numbers are nothing if you cannot translate them to the battlefield. If you cannot hold your emotions in check, you will fail your missions. So that is what I demand of you; maneuver through this obstacle course and using your assigned weapon, shoot ever increasingly difficult targets. Not because the targets do not die after one single shot, but because the environments you will find yourself in will not make it easy."
From his right, a locker emerges from the ground and opens up to reveal a standard issue Cornerian rifle and pistol along with several magazines worth of ammunition. While ahead of them the obstacle course is still being assembled, he can already hear a massive cacophony of gunshots, simulated explosions and screaming as white, gray and black smoke can be seen pouring through the cracks of walls and underneath doors.
"A chain is only as strong as its weakest link… I like this team. I will not let you be that weak link. Focus your mind and target priority targets. Civilian or surrendered individuals' casualties will not be tolerated. Step over the yellow line and your timer starts."
As Adam makes sure he gets everything ready weapon-wise, he looks ahead of him. Seeing the gauntlet he has to go through… and looking to his left to see the others that will test him… giving up seems very attractive now. There is no shame in quitting now… no, there is. He wanted this. He still wants this. He has proven time and time again that he is ready for this. He has to award himself with this prestige. Once the bolt of the weapon is in place, he steps over the yellow line and into the fray.
7-5: Like A Ghost
With PAL satisfied with Adam's performance, he leaves the tower and gives the reins over to Phantom. Because it will take a little while before everything is set up, it gives the coyote a moment of respite to rehydrate and rest. PAL in the meantime confides in Trevor that Adam's introduction to this team was not a fluke, and that despite the role he is going to take within Nova 7, he is quite capable of holding his own.
Trevor does not respond and instead simply observes the new recruit to see how he is holding up. And he is pleased to see that despite some expected panting, he still has his head on straight. Now it is Phantom's turn to see if he can dislodge it now that his battlefield has been laid out.
"Adam, was it? Step up to the yellow line; it's my turn to see what you can do." he calls over the loudspeakers and the coyote obliges.
"There you are. Much like the one before me, I'm fairly new to the team. In fact, I was 7-5 months before PAL was even considered for a separate callsign. However, I was nowhere close to being accepted. Like you, my inclusion felt forced. Not because an outside governmental force demanded it, but because Lieutenant Trevor needed one final member to round out the team. So he chose me; it was risky, but here I am."
With the subtle turn of a knob, he finishes putting together his battlefield. It is a maze-like structure composed of barrels, rubble, craters and wrecked vehicles. It looks savaged and desolate, as if artillery has been pounding it for days.
"My advice to you wasn't just something I wanted to share with you. It is the truth; in this team we accept a lot of things. Because what we do, not a lot of people can. It puts stresses on us unlike anything else. Death is a possibility no matter where we are deployed. And if you cannot rely on your teammates to cover your ass out there, if that professional trust isn't there, we fall apart."
There is a moment of silence before he gets on to the meat and potatoes of the one-sided interaction.
"You've managed to impress my partner, which is quite the feat. But I'm a different beast; put your weapons back into the locker except the blade. If you cannot rely on your trusty steel, you're nothing if your magazines are empty. You are going to use your wits and hopefully your ability to hide to maneuver around the track I've laid out. You are to avoid spotlights, foam machine guns with laser pointers and patrolling guards made of straw. If any one has their back turned to you, you can stick your knife in them until they are dead. Get spotted and you'll have to start from the very beginning. Just know; in real life, you're just dead."
The locker next to him opens up again and Adam puts the rifle and pistol back where he got them from originally. Along with anything else that is considered weaponry, like grenades. Only keeping the blade as he approaches the yellow line again. The latch behind him is still open should he choose to give up…
"I can see that you're ready for this. Good, you'll need that confidence. Keep your head low and on a swivel so you may cut your way to victory."
7-4: Just Through
Slow but well-meant applause can be heard from the tower as Adam crosses the finish line. His blade still has residue of the straw bagged mannequins he has slain through several attempts. After that, Phantom leaves the tower and steps aside for Calamity to take her position.
Trevor comes over and asks his arctic friend about what he saw. It seems that Adam has a tremendous amount of patience but sometimes lacks punch. Almost like he was thinking about the repercussions too much in a life or death situation. In the end though, he pulled through.
The corsac fox can see that this exercise has taken a bigger toll on the coyote than the previous one. But he is still in this. Although if his wife has anything to say about it, she will try to make it as difficult as possible as she assumes control of the tower and its controls. Adam does not need to be asked; the moment he is ready, he takes his spot at the yellow line.
Calamity does not say anything. Instead stoically staring over her assembled battlefield. It is a mess of obstacles to maneuver over, under or even through. Doors, rubble, windows, vehicles and the rough environment itself. As she did not change the crater-filled landscape that Phantom had before her.
"Don't think for a moment that because of my number, I was the latest to join before the geek squad over there. I am a founding member of this team. I helped my now husband through all sorts of trauma, alongside them. And in return, they did the same for me. For this job, you must be rock hard. In spirit and in body. So I'll make sure you'll be callous all over after this."
At the end of the sentence, a smirk is almost audible. The locker opens up again.
"Deposit that knife into there; I'm sending you out there with nothing but your wits and fists. A weapon is nice to have, but if you cannot trust your own body, your own brain and your own power… you might as well give up now."
Going into a simulated battle situation without any weapon is daunting. No reach and nothing but full contact with everything. He suspects that he will black and blue after this for sure. But he chooses to go ahead with it as he puts the knife back into the holder as the locker closes.
"Good, I see your guts aren't feigned. But I'm not easily impressed; I'll show you why they call me the Boogeywoman! You're going to run the Bruiser course. Maneuver across the field and avoid the simulated gunfire. After that, breach the three houses in any way you see fit, secure the civilians and knock the lights out of your targets. Be aware; some may fight back when you least expect it. And you'll have to do it as fast as you can. Because if you don't, you cannot protect the ones you love."
She sounds very serious, especially when in the last sentence. That signals that she personally believes more than anything else she has said. It is clear she feels a very close personal connection to her teammates.
"Let's see if you can even reach Kip's record. She does this course for fun." she then more lightly winks to her red 'roo friend.
Adam looks over with some bewilderment on his face and Kip sees this. Both complemented yet humble, she signals that it is no big thing. Practice makes perfect after all. He looks back to what is ahead of him and he shakes off that bewilderment. He gets himself in the mindset so he can get through this. After cracking his knuckles, much to Trevor's displeasure, he steps over the yellow line.
7-3: Free Bird
"Kip. It's your turn. He couldn't break your record but he did manage to break himself. And that shows courage. Well done, 7-7." Calamity compliments over the loudspeakers before she descends down the ladder, crosses the yellow line herself and helps the battered coyote get back to safety.
The man looks like he was on the receiving end of several street gang beatings. And he owed all of them money. But he passes the test and despite every muscle burning and every nerve screaming in pain, he is still standing. Until he sits down and rehydrates to cool himself off.
Trevor and Calamity get to discussing his performance. And while Trevor corrects her on calling him 7-7 already, she counters by saying that they might as well get used to it. Because as far as she is concerned, this guy is not going to give up. He knows that no matter what they will throw at him, it is not personal. It is training and he chose this.
He is content with this. Although it will be a change he will have to get used to. But seeing him, panting and leaning against the wall behind him, he is still ready for more. His body language betrays his resolve. And he will need it for the next exercise. Because Kip has taken her place on the tower.
Her battlefield looks a lot different from the previous ones. There is no set route, no obstacles to avoid or to vault over and no targets… yet. Instead, she is creating a holdout post. Sandbags in a semi-circle along with various tripod mounted weapons equipped with laser pointers. Along with simulation grenades and various triggers to set off firecrackers to fake explosive traps. It takes her some time to get it just right as she has to set up the targets that will pop up and even approach like a real attacking enemy force.
Once she is done, she can see that Adam is standing. Whether he is ready for what will come, will be decided here.
"Hello there. You'll be happy to know that this will be a little bit different. You're not going to be running, at least not in the traditional sense. Even before my role as an Operator in this team, I've learned to rely on my teammates. Trevor, Patches and Calamity... blindly. Through hell and back. Hence why I am too a founding member. But being a mercenary as well, I know very well that at some point inevitably, you'll be on your own. And then it's up to you. To survive until reinforcements come or until the job is done."
She points out to the holdout she has created for him.
"That is your home. That is your rock. Before you, coming from every direction you can see, the enemy will come. And they will come slow and fast. Your task is simple…"
The locker opens up.
"Arm yourself to the teeth and make efficient use of all the weapons given to you. And if you think that you have a lot of ammunition now, let's see how you're feeling when the heat is on. It's you against everyone else; hold out until you no longer can."
With that said, her hand now hovers over the button that will turn the simulation on. Adam lets it all sink in as a small part of his brain screams out that this is complete madness! They did not train for this at all; they were supposed to be more of a diplomat, not some kind of super soldier. But he shuts that portion of his brain up; now it is not the time for words.
7-2: Speedy Sabotage
The kangaroo is satisfied with his ability to stand his ground all of his own. If this were the real thing, he would have not only been bathing in his own sweat, tears, spent cartridges but also in blood. Covered from head to toe in either more severe wounds than he already has, burn marks and ash. He held on for an impressive amount of time and proved himself capable of her test.
With that, she descends the tower as Adam comes stumbling back. When she notices him, she can see the expression on his face. Everything clearly hurts as he drags his own somewhat limp body with him but it is not deterring him at all judging from the toothy grin he gives.
She meets up with Trevor and discusses her findings. While at first he was calm and collected, the moment the amount started to rise faster and faster, there were moments of panic. But he came back from it and managed to hold out for longer than expected. Perhaps Calamity was right but it is too premature to say. Because now his loyal second-in-command ascends the tower.
As she fiddles with the controls, Adam has stopped trying to drink normally. His hands are shaking too much for that. Instead, he unscrews the cap and lets it fall down upon himself like a waterfall. Whatever he can catch with his panting mouth, he will drink up. This is taking everything out of him. But he would not want it any other way. Everything feels like it is boiling and tingling. Tears have welled up in his eyes. Or is that sweat?
While he is thinking about this, Patches is perfecting her battlefield. Going back to the idea of an obstacle course again but her own twist of course. Placed around the map, are up-over-and-under exercises with various conditions. Cramped, short, long, wading through water or even a combination of all previously mentioned. To simulate the crawling through vents she herself does. Along with that, points he needs to sabotage. Either by being clever or using brute violence. She waits until he takes his place at the line.
"Tired? Good, it means that you're getting used to it. Getting to be hung out to dry; as second-in-command of this unit, you will listen to me whenever the big man isn't here. I was the first recruited to the team. An idea that was brought forward under dire, Aparoid-related circumstances. So unless you're coming out of this test not looking like hammered shit, we have failed you." she chuckles.
"I am however glad you're not viewing this as abuse; let me be very clear that it is not. This is to prove your worth. I know what abuse is; if it weren't for Trevor, I wouldn't be here. I'll leave it at that."
She clears her throat but it is clear to Adam that what she said was not hyperbolic in any way.
"Before you lies another field for you to traverse. Keep your ears open, because I will guide you through every step. When I say duck, you get your face into the dirt. When I say jump, you reach for the stars. In the field, despite everything going on around you or in your head, you'll be barked orders at. And it's in your best interest to answer them with "Yes Ma'am!" at all times. Of course I'll be keeping time. Whenever you're ready."
Adam looks ahead of him and then looks at the state of himself. That water does not look too clean and some of his wounds are still fresh and even bleeding a little bit. He is sure that their first aid is second to none but he is still having doubts. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath to still his raised heart rate. Then he opens his eyes again with renewed vigor. After this, just one more.
FNG
Completely empty, he falls to his knees just after passing the yellow line. He is panting like mad as muddy water drips down his chin. Everything is on fire; whatever was tingling before, now stings with every breath he takes. Even a slight breeze would set off his pain receptors. But he did it! Patches had applauded him for his work and allowed him to leave after several tries.
After she climbs down from the tower, she runs up to him to see if he is doing alright. Seeing that despite everything is not only still alive, but he still has fight left in him. She hands him some more water but knowing how he did last time, she unscrews the cap and pours it all over him. Flushing away all of the waste that his fur had collected in the meantime.
"Make sure you report yourself to Lieutenant Trevor after this; those wounds do look like they require a proper seeing through." she advises warm-hearted before giving him a second bottle and taking her leave.
She hops up to Trevor and seems genuinely impressed with his performance. Sure, he cannot hear what is being said, but the body language as well as some experience with lip reading feeds him with enough information.
He then realizes who she is talking to. And remembering how the tests would go from the highest to the lowest number, it means that it is now Trevor's turn. But instead of him climbing up into the tower, he instead collects all of his team members and approaches him. Adam attempts to stand up but ends up on his knees instead as his legs feel like static.
"Steady there." Trevor says with a sympathizing tone.
"I'm not a king. Although I wouldn't mind being one. Adam Goddard, you've done very well. Numbers 6 through 2 were impressed with your performance from what I heard. And looking at the recorded footage, as well from my own experience, I can say that they all match up. Gents, if we had to grade this recruit, what would we give?"
"7" Patches says without any doubt, before correcting it to a 7.5 quickly after.
"I can get along with that." Kip adds as Calamity agrees.
Phantom and PAL put him slightly higher at an 8. But the ladies are quick to blame this on gender bias as now the balance between men and women is finally in favor of the one with balls dangling between their legs. An accusation that either refuses to address. Not that it has any consequences for not doing so; it is all fun and games.
"Right then. A 7.5 for your initiation test. I've definitely seen worse."
He bends over slightly and extends his hand to Adam.
"And I have yet to see better." he states with a smile.
The coyote is surprised at first but then sees it as the genuine gesture it really is. He takes the given hand and is helped up. Although his legs are still wonky, he can stand upright a little more now.
"Like Corporal Patches already said, come see me in a bit. Gents! Frank! We're shutting down for today." he then calls out as he starts to walk back to the exit along with his posse.
"What? Aren't you going to put me through a test as well?" Adam asks.
"Huh? Now? Heh, I appreciate your drive but my training will come soon. For now, we're calling it."
Adam cannot believe it. Did he do it?
"So does that mean that…?"
"Yes, it does. You're 7-7, officially. Well done. You passed the first day and you've earned your rest for today. Tomorrow though; same shit, different day."
The way he says it so off-handedly. Like that means nothing at all.
"But… those tests…?"
"Very important regardless! But how do you think we got so good?" Patches asks rhetorically as they have to wait for the latch to open up.
"Practice makes perfect after all." Kip adds to this.
"And we do this stuff on the daily." Calamity joins in with folded arms.
"Welcome to hell, buddy." Phantom snickers.
"I look forward to seeing your biological reactions to such intense training." PAL ends, a little surgical and malicious.
Something which seems to entertain Nova 7 to no end. There is something about this team; an air of mild, nihilistic optimism. Wrapped in sarcasm and a tight bond of friendship and love. Each day could be their last so they better enjoy themselves and steel themselves against the inevitable. An interesting paradox that he looks forward to becoming a part of. Even with everything screaming for him to leave, he could never forgive himself if he did. So he inches over and joins his new team back to the barracks and hopefully something against the pain.
Then Patches mentions that he should be thinking about an outfit or a style. As every member is allowed to have his or her own look to them to promote their own strengths and be comfortable. And Adam already has an idea about this; getting his bloody hair back!