Laia Martinez (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scoundrelhater) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2016-03-06 07:11 pm
scoundrelhater) wrote in thecapitol2016-03-06 07:11 pm
Entry tags:
Choose to Fight for a World Beyond
Who| Laia Martinez and you
What| There's a new arrival in the detainment center. She's not impressed.
Where| Detainment center cafeteria and training areas
When| After the D10/D11 battles
Warnings/Notes| None, will add if necessary
Cafeteria
Laia does not regret her choice of reaction upon waking up on a steel cot and being escorted somewhere by soldiers. Submitting to the guards, sizing up the location's layout and her captor's capabilities, and then taking the first chance to knock them all out and flee had gotten her a black eye and a pair of plastic wrist cuffs, true. But she had made her decision with the information available to her, and going forward, she wouldn't make the same mistake twice. This wasn't the Gurhal system, these weren't the Illuminus, and her position as president meant nothing. It was all bullshit (and she had loudly declared as much), but it was new bullshit. Different than the mess that she was now, apparently, very far away from.
It still wasn't enough information to properly operate on, though. The truth that comes from the mouths of administrators and the actual truth are worlds apart, in her experience. So she had settled herself in the cafeteria with a mug of tea and a plastic baggie full of ice, intent on flagging someone down and grilling them for on-the-ground details. But there were video screens showing the most hideous things... she has found herself drawn into a Greatest Hits recap of the Hunger Games, and can't quite manage to tear her eyes away. Laia knows death when she sees it, and she is damn sure that these scenes of carnage are not carefully-done special effects. But that would mean.... what would that mean?
Having viewed someone's particularly gruesome end, framed with dramatic music and entirely too flippant narration, she can't stay silent any longer. "Hey!" She calls out to someone at the edge of her vision, but doesn't look their way. "Hey, you, is this..." Up goes a hand, turning vaguely around, as though she might pluck the right words out of the air. "...what the hell is this?"
Training Facilities
If they've brought her here to fight, Laia intends on doing the job properly. And since it seems they're not allowing her any of her actual equipment, she's just going to have to get used to going without. Without a line shield, she'll have to be more alert and agile. Without a nano-transformer, she'll have to content herself to limited weapons and no on-the-fly healing. And something else feels off, too, but she can't quite put her finger on what...
But she puts it out of mind. She puts just about everything out of mind, in all honesty, for she's focusing her frustration and irritation and confusion on the punching bag before her. Fists fly, elbows are thrown, middle and high kicks impact noisily, and on she goes, pushing past any aching or tiredness. Those last few months behind a desk and a microphone had put her off her game, and like hell she was going to stay off her game if what these strangers had in store for her was true.
Later, she's at the weapon rack, considering what to give a try... and looking no small amount confused, too. She pulls a sword free, and is thrown off by the weight and balance of it. "...it's solid? Tch, that's primitive, isn't it?" For all that they'd managed to haul her here, just what kind of rinky-dink low-tech operation were they running?
What| There's a new arrival in the detainment center. She's not impressed.
Where| Detainment center cafeteria and training areas
When| After the D10/D11 battles
Warnings/Notes| None, will add if necessary
Cafeteria
Laia does not regret her choice of reaction upon waking up on a steel cot and being escorted somewhere by soldiers. Submitting to the guards, sizing up the location's layout and her captor's capabilities, and then taking the first chance to knock them all out and flee had gotten her a black eye and a pair of plastic wrist cuffs, true. But she had made her decision with the information available to her, and going forward, she wouldn't make the same mistake twice. This wasn't the Gurhal system, these weren't the Illuminus, and her position as president meant nothing. It was all bullshit (and she had loudly declared as much), but it was new bullshit. Different than the mess that she was now, apparently, very far away from.
It still wasn't enough information to properly operate on, though. The truth that comes from the mouths of administrators and the actual truth are worlds apart, in her experience. So she had settled herself in the cafeteria with a mug of tea and a plastic baggie full of ice, intent on flagging someone down and grilling them for on-the-ground details. But there were video screens showing the most hideous things... she has found herself drawn into a Greatest Hits recap of the Hunger Games, and can't quite manage to tear her eyes away. Laia knows death when she sees it, and she is damn sure that these scenes of carnage are not carefully-done special effects. But that would mean.... what would that mean?
Having viewed someone's particularly gruesome end, framed with dramatic music and entirely too flippant narration, she can't stay silent any longer. "Hey!" She calls out to someone at the edge of her vision, but doesn't look their way. "Hey, you, is this..." Up goes a hand, turning vaguely around, as though she might pluck the right words out of the air. "...what the hell is this?"
Training Facilities
If they've brought her here to fight, Laia intends on doing the job properly. And since it seems they're not allowing her any of her actual equipment, she's just going to have to get used to going without. Without a line shield, she'll have to be more alert and agile. Without a nano-transformer, she'll have to content herself to limited weapons and no on-the-fly healing. And something else feels off, too, but she can't quite put her finger on what...
But she puts it out of mind. She puts just about everything out of mind, in all honesty, for she's focusing her frustration and irritation and confusion on the punching bag before her. Fists fly, elbows are thrown, middle and high kicks impact noisily, and on she goes, pushing past any aching or tiredness. Those last few months behind a desk and a microphone had put her off her game, and like hell she was going to stay off her game if what these strangers had in store for her was true.
Later, she's at the weapon rack, considering what to give a try... and looking no small amount confused, too. She pulls a sword free, and is thrown off by the weight and balance of it. "...it's solid? Tch, that's primitive, isn't it?" For all that they'd managed to haul her here, just what kind of rinky-dink low-tech operation were they running?
no subject
"Bombs, nice..." And there's an honest kind of awe in her tone, enough to cover up her alarm that this poor kid knows that kind of thing. A quick breath in, and moving right along... "Maybe you should show me some knife throwing? I've always wanted to learn that. It's just hard to find the time, sometimes." Then she's smiling and carefully holding her hand out to the girl. "...I'm Laia, by the way. What's your name?"