(( I am using a mixture of first person and second person storytelling, mainly for my own entertainment and to help me deepen the character, if it disturbs anyone, let me know and i'll change the style again. ))<br/><br/><b><i>Then</i></b><br/><br/>Damnit! I should have been expecting something like this, here I had been preparing to use swords, knives and use my telekinetic powers, much like in the comic books. Or throw heavy objects and fling them like they were nothing. Instead? Well, Slate made me do math, a lot of math, I am not sure I did all the questions correctly but I did not lose my head at least, if nothing else I have had a rather thorough schooling in that aspect, father always meant that I was to engage in the family trade with him later, well, before puberty at least. Once I hit that well, I do not want to think of that, but he did not give up in the end. And neither did I.<br/>Some of the tests where simple enough, like “can you lift things with gloves on?” the answer to that was “yes easily” well, with normal gloves, with normal mittens too. It is not really that hard, it does not matter how I grasp it, just that I do. The test of holding up heavy things where fairly easy, I seem to be able to hold up anything up to my own weight, roughly, while it gets slowly heavier after that. And as I am a rather heavy woman (one does not have my height and athletic build without a good deal of weight) then that is a fair amount of weight.<br/><br/>So, naturally I scoffed at the tests Slate gave me. Math questions? Easy! I made sure everyone saw me dismiss it too as too easy, bite my bubble butt that was dumb of me! Not only did some of the others actually believe me and seem impressed (no! I don’t want to talk to you!) but it simply made Slate shrug with the same calm demeanor and add more and more weight to the test until I collapsed.<br/>He’s… Thorough that man. I have to give him that.<br/><br/>David? He’s worse. He got the training of a Harvard made scientist and he’s as thorough as one in his scientific method, and where I had wanted to use swords earlier he gave me an gattling gun, well an m134 minigun technically, looked like the one that the black guy in the predator movie uses, the one with Arnie you know? Turns out that the recoil was easily handled, piece of cake even, and with a bit of manipulation of the weight I had no issues swinging it around as if it wasn’t even there. It was rather fun to use all those heavy weapons as if they were toy guns.<br/>That’s when I messed up, stupid. I should’ve seen it coming. I manipulated my own weight, jump up into the air during a practice, swung around while in the air, aimed the gattling down at the target and fired a burst off while laughing, I may have told the other pupils to watch a master at work.<br/>Karma bitches. Karma bit me in my ass. Sure! No recoil? That’s true, but if your hanging in the air with weight to your own body with a machine spitting out more two thousand rounds per minute (or 33 rounds per second), well, that’s an altogether different thing, it worked like the fucking afterburning of a jet and sent me flying, just as I had boasted to everyone. It’s a miracle no one got hurt, I don’t think I could have acted my way through that burden on my conscience.<br/><br/>I landed in a training basin much to my own luck and thankfully, I was able to kill enough of my own kinetic energy that the landing was soft. And who stands there while I lie in the water with the head down, my pants half torn off and my ego bruised?<i>Santa fucking Chiara Luciana.</i>Of course, I tried to brush her off – just as sure I was certain my pants were in place (I hope she didn’t’ spot anything) and I was fairly aggressive towards her, yelling towards her for her manipulation of the light, blaming that for my failure, but she just took my abuse in a stoic stride, she even treated my wound, or wanted to, as I brushed her off, yelling loudly to everyone, pushing aside another pupil roughly as I went to get the gattling repaired.<br/><br/>The wounds I received that day will give me some scars, but perhaps it will keep people from me. Still, I cannot help but feel rotten, I will have to do it though. I prefer that they call me the bitch, I prefer they mock me for that. Just… As long as they don’t know my condition, anything but that. I can accept the other abuse and return it, keep them away. Do not let them get close, if I let them get close they will hurt me.<br/><br/>But why can’t I stop thinking about that nun and her touch? I am a rotten person, I will have to yell at her, try to make her keep her distance. Its better that way, better for both of us.<br/><br/><b><i>Now</i></b><br/><br/><i>I think I like Bloody Mary, sure she’s a bitch, but she’s no nonsense. She’s to the point, she’s honest and I do not think she’s a person to go with rumors or stories to others. Okay, she does make me hate her in the situation, like now when we wake up, but at the same time it gives me fuel to go on, the anger makes me strong and washes away my insecurities, it is good to focus on my anger.</i><br/><br/>Or so the rather huge woman tells herself as she prepares herself hurried, her sharp ice blue eyes scans her surroundings even as she jumps out of bed, and prepares. The day went easily, well relatively speaking at least, she could not help but feel a shiver of fear and aphrehension at the sight of the dusk hive, if this was the<i>”final test”</i>then she could not help but wonder how bad it would look out there, out in “the war” where things where even worse, frack this, too late to get off though. So she had to pull through, at least she had been forced to change her opinion on heavy weapons and where told that she’d have plenty of those along.<br/>Good, that might help her keep the dusks at bay while others did the close up and dirty work, she knew that she’d get stuck in eventually herself though, was not in doubt about that even for a second, but by now she knew more efficient methods. Even so she kept listening to the briefing during the day, nodding lightly again towards Bloody Mary, should she have the chance she’d simply thank her and head on, she’d make no promises. But hells… She figured that Bloody probably was just like herself, its far easier to cuss people and keep them at a distance, if you let people come too close, if you care too much, then things will backfire and you will get hurt. And Bloody Mary is a surviver, she does not want the emotional baggage of seeing people she care for die.<br/><br/>When they were delivered spluttering into the river the tall woman dragged herself out and ignored the shower initially, looking after her equipment, that at least seemed to have been put down ahead of time with considerable more care than what had been shown her or her companions.<br/><br/>“Right! Listen up, I know you don’t all have the talent, but ignore the shower and try to make yourselves useful for once! I want some ears and eyes out for dusks so that we won’t end up as victims thanks to your incompetence.<br/><br/>Chiara! Make yourself useful for once, your going to be garbage standing guard, so sort a rotation with the showers and guards. I’m going to work on setting up a perimeter! And you! Fritzie? Stop flirting with the nun and help set up a perimeter. You can talk about your snurbad and bratwurst later!”<br/><br/>The last words where spoken to Franz, regardless of what he actually had been doing, probably based on Chiaras shout out too. With that the tall woman went out to grasp her weapons, the trusty gattling gun and a belt with grenades and stood to watch what she could, the only close combat weapon visible on her being an ugly looking machete, which granted, would likely be very useful for the jungle.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>