Commander Jane Shepard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
earthborn) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-03-27 11:28 pm
earthborn) wrote in thecapitol2014-03-27 11:28 pm
Entry tags:
Boot Camp
Who| Shepard, select victims, and OPEN
What| Boot Camp Lite
Where| The Training Center
When| Not long after the Crowning
Warnings/Notes| swearing, will update as necessary
The Training Center level was a gloriously open floorplan. Cement was the rule of décor, flat grey painted over in crimson and yellow, with pools of light illuminating each of the proscribed practice areas like museum pieces on a diadem. Say what you like about terrorist organizations, but Shepard had only ever seen this particular economy of light with legitimate governments— she didn’t approve, but she could adapt. Had adapted.
That was the rule of the living, after all: Adapt, fight, or die. Or wish you could die, maybe.
Regardless, there was purpose of movement here. There was business and the thump-thump-thump of putting oneself through the paces on a treadmill, through a weight regimen, or on the sparring mats. There was firestarting and camo practice and enough weapons that if they hadn’t been looking at armored Peacekeepers with guns, it might’ve meant something as a store-room. Still, better than nothing, when it came to that.
Shepard was planning, as she often did about this time between Arenas, in spending the entire day here, then getting up to do it all again the next day. She hated the artificiality of it, but it was better than sitting around or trying to schmooze with the sponsors. Jane really wasn’t suited for schmoozing. But what she was suited for, was this: taking young, relatively green fighters, and turning them into… Well, most of them had turned out alright, anyways. She couldn’t take full credit. Those who walk under her eye today, are going to be drafted into an impromptu training session, and invited back for more. Don’t say she didn’t warn you: she might not have, but only a fool would ask to see if she cared.
What| Boot Camp Lite
Where| The Training Center
When| Not long after the Crowning
Warnings/Notes| swearing, will update as necessary
The Training Center level was a gloriously open floorplan. Cement was the rule of décor, flat grey painted over in crimson and yellow, with pools of light illuminating each of the proscribed practice areas like museum pieces on a diadem. Say what you like about terrorist organizations, but Shepard had only ever seen this particular economy of light with legitimate governments— she didn’t approve, but she could adapt. Had adapted.
That was the rule of the living, after all: Adapt, fight, or die. Or wish you could die, maybe.
Regardless, there was purpose of movement here. There was business and the thump-thump-thump of putting oneself through the paces on a treadmill, through a weight regimen, or on the sparring mats. There was firestarting and camo practice and enough weapons that if they hadn’t been looking at armored Peacekeepers with guns, it might’ve meant something as a store-room. Still, better than nothing, when it came to that.
Shepard was planning, as she often did about this time between Arenas, in spending the entire day here, then getting up to do it all again the next day. She hated the artificiality of it, but it was better than sitting around or trying to schmooze with the sponsors. Jane really wasn’t suited for schmoozing. But what she was suited for, was this: taking young, relatively green fighters, and turning them into… Well, most of them had turned out alright, anyways. She couldn’t take full credit. Those who walk under her eye today, are going to be drafted into an impromptu training session, and invited back for more. Don’t say she didn’t warn you: she might not have, but only a fool would ask to see if she cared.
no subject
"And where, exactly, is home?"
no subject
"Of course, they might not have had them where you're from..."
no subject
no subject
"They were enormous - well, are. They have to be to keep the Titans out. And thye work. Mostly."
She reaches over to pat Shepard on the shoulder, "And if I can't watch, I guess I'll just train over there."
Free training center, Shepard.