Because a Pilot in Need... (Choco!)

[Anonymous]

Fala loved this training center- there was nothing more to get one ready for combat than the smell of exertion in the air, mats on the floor, and a multitude of actual moving, breathing targets to train on. Holograms were fine and dandy most of the time, but with her growing intolerance to their energy signals, the aqua-haired pilot had gotten accustomed to training here more often. Scuffles with living, thinking beings always turned out more interesting than computerized simulations, anyway... not to mention that said holograms never screamed. They just... vanished. It was always terribly anti-climactic when she needed to relieve some stress.

Technically, however, this trip was an exception to most- it wasn't entirely voluntary. No, they'd shut Jorinth away from her, for the time being. Her dear Dragon comrade was due for a routine maintenance check and physical, and so she'd be alone for quite some time. While she did have an obligation to train these cadets while she was here, obligations that weren't spoken generally weren't worth following, in her eyes.

Pulling up her tinted visor, she clicked the two connectors into the ports in her temples, smiling as familiarity replaced the inherent feeling of nakedness she felt without them. Looking around the room in one quick sweep of her mind, she felt the all-too familiar sensations of testosterone-fueled confidence, anger, and pride.

Men. How she loathed men.

Case in point was one of the more advanced cadets, a man who clearly had a gender superiority complex. He'd sauntered up to her, cocky as ever, and cheekily asked her if she wanted to get physical with him on the practice combat mats. When Fala, a sexist in her own right, had ignored his crude and unprofessional request, he proceeded to try to feel her up, right in front of his little cronies and in clear view of the undergraduates that were attempting to train in the same style she happened to be quite adept in.

The moment his hands had hovered before her breasts, she'd stuck her elbow squarely into his sternum, smashed his nose with a backwards strike of her skull, and used his backwards momentum (as he'd understandably staggered backwards) to sweep him off of his feet with a carefully placed nudge of her foot. While the stunned and spurned teenager groaned and clutched his bleeding nose, she gave his side a swift kick. Hissing in pain and doubling over, he muttered obscenities under his breath as she walked away, not even sparing a look back.

Naturally, the entire class proceeded to give her quite a bit of space after that. Fala wasn't sure how many of them actually knew she was a Pilot already, and didn't care- the best training facilities were here, and she was going to use them whether they wanted her to or not. If anyone her level or lower said a thing about it, she'd give them a little piece of hell before she left. After all, it was their fault Jorinth wasn't here to keep her company.

She wondered for a moment where the 'partner' she was supposedly assigned to was- she didn't want to stay with the now frightened miscreants anymore. Frightened students made for tense, poor-performance fights, and those were never fun. She'd simply have to find someone else to keep her company.

Turning her head slightly to the left, Fala fought back a shout of surprise as the once fallen cadet's fist rammed into her cheek, twisting her head sharply as she struggled to regain her sense of balance. His blow was ill-aimed, but had the power of adrenaline and anger behind it- her small stature didn't help matters.

The student was clearly raring for another confrontation as pride replaced agony in his eyes.

"Yer gonna pay for that, bitch. No one messes with me."

She didn't wonder what she was going to do against him- she just wondered absentmindedly if someone was going to show up before she killed a potential Pilot.

[Anonymous]

A slight rush of sweet smelling air accompanied the small ding that indicated the lift had reached its destination. Stepping out of the plastic and metal cylinder brought the man into the atrium leading to the main training hall. A door to the left lead to a pool and gym complex, while another on the right lead to the shooting gallery. He ignored these doors, instead continuing on through the unadorned archway straight ahead, to the physical combat room.

Mats littered the floor, with men fighting on many of them. Two women fought on a far mat, one delivering a sharp blow to the others leg as he watched. Neither were the woman he was looking for, so his gaze moved on.

A sudden blow came form the right, sending him staggering to the side. The man who had fallen into him after being thrown off his mat by his quite large opponent spun around to shout at whoever had gotten in his way.

“Watch where you’re...!� His eyes popped, his mouth snapped shut and he gibbered out, “S-sorry Marsh, I mean sir, I mean Seeker Marshal Sir….I …uh.� The man glanced around, looking desperately for help. Marsh simply brushed himself off, stared at the man intently for a moment, and then looked away. The trainee took that is a dismissal, and hastily resumed his training.

Marshal Richards, or ‘Marsh’ to anyone with enough gall to believe themself his friend, didn’t look very intimidating at first glance. He was short at only five foot four, reedy and rather frail looking. He was in his mid thirties, but already his hair was a light grey, always kept short and pushed back. He stood in standard issue boots, which were brown and came up to mid-shin, tight grey trousers and a canary yellow coat with two small tails at the back, fully buttoned up. No, Marsh was never going to intimidate anyone by physical size, though he was quite proficient in hand to hand combat should the need ever arise. It was reputation that made the young pilot quake.

Marsh was never a particularly powerful psychic, never top of the class, just average. Well, average until the day he grew angry at his teacher and made the woman jump out of a window.

Marshal had discovered a rare talent for accessing the brain, making him quite capable of overpowering another’s mind and forcing his will upon them, earning him the nickname ‘The Puppet Master’.

This talent made him the perfect candidate to become a member of the Seekers, pilots chosen for the purpose of watching other pilots, hunting for traitors within the ranks. Few were found, and those that were usually yielded little information, choosing to destroy their own minds before revealing anything. Marsh had the record number of captures, at eight. No Seeker was above another in theory, but in practice rank was determined by capture count.

He took in the room again, causing several students to lose their focus when his eyes met theirs briefly. Years of penetrating the human mind had left his eyes with a piercing quality. He was told it was like he was looking into your soul.

Some sort of commotion began drawing attention on the other side of the room. Ah, she must have come in form the other side. Striding through the mats Marsh couldn’t help but smile. Fala was a spirited one, desperately addicted to the network, something he prided himself on having the self control to contain. He had never found any trace of treachery in her of course, else she would have already been detained, but he could never trust a pilot. Traitors were very good at hiding in their own minds. Even an insensitive bitch like Fala might actually be a soft hearted freedom fighter on the inside.

The defeated student struck back, a stupid idea if ever there was one. To fight an opponent that has already bested you is pointless.

“Enough,� he said sternly. The trainee turned to face the new opponent, only to freeze, face a mask of terror, as Marshal hooked psychic fingers into his mind.

“You forget yourself student. Pilot Fala is your superior in both rank and skill; you should show the proper respect. But more than that, I dislike your apparent disrespect for women. Perhaps a lesson is in order.� The students right hand jerked over to meet is left, grasping his trigger finger. “Respect,� the finger snapped loudly as it broke and the student screamed in pain, “Discipline,� the next snapped, “Honour,� snap, “Reverence,� snap, “Courage,� snap.

“These five things you lack. Hopefully pain will serve as motivation for you to gain them. Now, to medical with you, go!� The trainee bolted, released from the psychic grasp and cradling his bloody, broken hand.

He looked around. “Continue with your exercises,� he commended softly. They all obeyed, eyes filled with fear.

He looked at Fala and smiled. “I’ve been assigned to practice with you today, though it doesn’t look like we’re going to get much done here. Would you like to move elsewhere?�


(Escuse the rambling.)

[Anonymous]

Fala paused at the arrival of the newest guest- she'd known that there was going to be someone watching her back like an annoying little chaperon until her dragon was returned to her, but she'd assumed that he would be a low-ranking, just-initiated, and therefore dispensable Pilot. She definitely didn't expect for them to send the Puppet Master, of all people.

It made her seethe inside- didn't they trust her? She'd done nothing but prove her loyalty time and time again to Aedolis, and this was an outright slap in the face. She just imagined the smug look of her former instructors right now, telling her, "Now play nice, or this son of a bitch is gonna make you jump out of a window!"

Though she had to admit, watching the cadet snap his own fingers had a certain amount of artistic flare to it. Every contortion of his face when the pain renewed again was like staring at surrealistic paintings in rapid succession- and his shrill screams of agony were always nice to hear. But watching pain and inflicting it were two very different things- to see Marsh flatter her before doing away with her victim rubbed her a bit the wrong way.

"There might not be much of a choice. They're terrified of you, you know. I could have snapped the kid's neck, and they'd still be less frightened of me than of merely hearing your name. You should be flattered." Fala answered his inquiry bitterly, knowing that playing the fool would do no good against a man that could barge into one's mind like a hammer through an eggshell. Scowling and pouting not unlike a child, she placed her hands firmly on her hips, scouring the room one more time before letting out a deep sigh.

Closing her eyes, she felt her temper creep up on her. Remembering that she shouldn't blow her top in front of the Seeker, she quickly went over a quick list of things to think to try to dissuade her temper.

Think of calm things... don't yell at him... don't say anything stupid... be polite, just this once...

But her tongue, now without the barrier of her common sense, decided to run off on its own.

"Great job you've done, though, putting my rank out there like that. There's a reason why I never told anyone here about that, you know. Now the meatbags are only going to see the two of us as damn circus monkeys- people to stare at, not interact with. You'd better have a damn good idea of where we're going to go, since this place ain't gonna help us any."

As soon as she could stop herself, she slapped her hand against her forehead, groaning dejectedly into her palm. Jorinth was going to have to upload another self-control mantra into her system, as this one clearly wasn't doing the trick.