MF1.0 - 63 - First Session

To her utter displeasure, she found herself being paired up with Curt again. He led her through the training simulation, through the throngs of fake civilians and bright colours.

‘I hate this place,’ she muttered.

‘Why?’

‘They took away everything that was cool about this place, then dressed up what was left and told it to stand on a street corner.’

This made him stop walking. ‘You really hate Southbank that much?’

She scowled and experimentally pushed one of the civilians, it stumbled for a few metres, then righted itself and continued walking. ‘Recovering pathing, interesting.’

‘So where do you like then?’

‘Ganymede,’ she replied with a smirk.

‘Isn’t that where Doctor Who is from?’

Her non-existent respect and patience for him dropped further into the negative. ‘What are we supposed to be looking for?’

‘Don’t know, like I said, we don’t do these more than once. It’s like real life, you don’t know what to expect.’

‘So we just walk around looking for trouble, yeah, that sounds great…’

‘We have to be present. We have to be here. Protect and serve.’

‘Directive four: classified.’

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Do you enjoy speaking in a way that no one understands?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘I don’t enjoy speaking.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Shots broke through the general hubbub of the crowd. ‘Exactly how many people choose to use silencers?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">He ignored her and ran toward the shots. The simulated citizens moved out of their way as they ran down the path, Curt gained ground and suddenly she was left behind. She stopped running and listened for more shots – there were none, but enough shouts to indicate they were fighting.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Running, fighting, jumping…I’m a fscking hacker,’ she mumbled and walked down the path.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She hid behind a tree and watched the other recruits fight a…by the bad dress sense, she assumed Solst-ass. The cultist pulled a round grenade from his jacket pocket and pressed the detonate button.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She ducked behind the tree, expecting an explosion that never came. A wall of sound rushed past, but no debris or heat.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Blackout bomb!’ she heard Brian yell.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Note to self: get the freaking handbook.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Red lifted his hands and the cultist caught on fire. The bad fashion choices burned away as the cultist dropped to the ground and screamed until he was nothing more than a charred corpse.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She saw Brian hit Red in the back of the head. ‘Do that in the field more often!’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">The simulation faded away and the door appeared. Taylor simply stared at her, she straightened, then nodded. She walked past him, half expecting him to finally explode, then ran out of the gym.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">The lift appeared exactly eight seconds after she pressed the button. She stepped in and stared at the buttons. Again. The tech floor was the safest – it was probably where she belonged. The ground level was the only escape route – back into her normal life. Back to where nothing was expected of her. Back to where there was no one bothering her. Back to…

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She punched the R button, the roof was a good place to hide – she could always get yelled at and sent to Jones later. For now, zeppelin spotting seemed like a good idea.