Testing Boundaries [ Open ]

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

The Sensorium...of all the various strange and bewildering places she'd found aboard this madhouse, it had proved to be the most interesting. It was like an old science fiction movie, one of the improbable ones that gathered a cult following and generated money for greedy toymakers. It was like being plugged into the Net again, almost, with the freedom and power to change the world around her at command, and after only a few hours in the hollow, Netless silence, it was blessing to have something to take the edge off. Unprofessional, that, but still reassuring to have something so utterly human inflicted on her.

The Major had spent a few hours sifting through the available simulations and programs. Heavy-arms training runs, adventurous little role-playing games, even a few tactical simulations. Mostly it was just fluff, or half-finished or any of dozens of things that were little else but dry educational or pure entertainment in value.

So, what else could she do but program her own?

'Begin with what you know,' ran the old adage, and so she had. The city spread out before her was dark, tinted glass made inky black with night time and reflected neon and streetlights like a spectrum of eyes from every corner. This wasn't exactly accurate, as a simulation; Tokyo had never had as Jiggabachi helicopters or powered exoskeleton-toting soldiers wandering it's streets and skyways. Perhaps it had as many criminals, but they weren't so blatant. Then again, the point of this exercise wasn't realism, was it? Nostagia made these lacks seem obvious, maybe, but as Motoko stood on the edge of a flat-topped roof at what she'd deemed the "beginning" of the course, she decided it would do for a testing ground. Varied landscape and opponents would be a good measure of her teammates skill— among other things. Damned if she was going to go haring off anywhere with nothing but a blind knowledge of her teammates and hopeful wishes.

Comments

[four-lights.livejournal.com]

"That's quite the beautiful landscape you've set up," came the voice only a couple meters behind Motoko, "looks like ... Tokyo, is it? Near the end of the twenty-first century." Picard came into view, a cigarette hanging off his lip, and dressed in an outfit much more nostalgic than the cyborg woman's. He tipped his fedora to her, smirking lightly. He hadn't expected anyone in here, much less a newcomer, but here had an opportunity to at least say hello.

"I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard, and the commander of this crew. It's a pleasure to meet you."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Motoko hadn't bothered to alter her clothing from the skin-tight plantsuit. The gun strapped under her old flak jacket was more than enough nostalgia, as far as clothing; this was Tokyo, after all. If it had been real, she could easily have walked around in just as she was without being given a second glance. The Major didn't flinch, or look at Picard as he entered, only half-turned her head so that her voice would carry back. She could hear the way he moved; light and rolling. He wasn't a threat.

"Twenty-second," she corrected, mildly, not bothering to return the introduction with her name. She'd been born at the turn of the century, when cyberization technology had been in it's infancy, "It's not accurate, but since when was artistry the point?"

[four-lights.livejournal.com]

"Hmm, well then, I apologize. In my own timeline, this would be around fifty or sixty years after mankind's first warp flight. We'd already had First Contact with an alien species, and were on our way to building and commissioning warp-drive vessels to explore space in." Plucking the cigarette from his mouth, Picard took advantage of a natural pause in his explanation to exhale a small cloud of wispy smoke, away from the Major, of course. He smiled, setting the cigarette back between his lips.

"And yourself? I see certain signs of technology that we certainly didn't have at the turn of the twenty-second century."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Now she looked back at him, listening with an bland expression that was miles away. She let smoke and the last of his reply wisp off the edge of the building before replying; an odd, thinking silence.

"About twenty years ago, cyberization technology had it's first successful human trials," Motoko answered, her tone musingly philosophical, almost idle, like the tapping of a pen when you're only waiting for the hours to pass, "It's a technology to allow those severely damaged by accident or war to use prosthesis to restore lost function. In many ways, it's an improvement over the natural state. That's human nature, I suppose, to seek bigger and better things."

She could have elaborated, considered doing so, even. This Jean-Luc Picard was easy to talk to; he thought before he spoke, and noticed small things. Still...no. Wait and see.

[four-lights.livejournal.com]

"That is fascinating," Picard replied. "See, medical technology didn't advance near so fast in my time. At least, not where prosthetics and cybernetics are concerned. Even in the 24th century, we're continuing to make advances. My own heart is a top-of-the-line artificial replacement." He smirked, taking the cigarette butt from his mouth and flicking it over the edge, letting it fall in the ashtray top of a large waste receptacle. "However, psychological and biological medicine advanced extremely quickly during this time. By the time the twenty-third century rolled around, disease had almost been eliminated from the country, and genetic engineering was an outlawed aspect of the past."

Walking to the edge of the building, he sat down along it, letting one leg dangle over the side while he conversed with Motoko. "Bigger and better things. You may be right, there. And it's not just technology, or land, or wealth. No, that drive for bigger and better, to continue to seek and grow is what allowed Earth to end war on our own planet, to help found the United Federation of Planets, to establish Starfleet. Humanity thrives on knowing we're imperfect. We seek out perfection, and because of it, we better ourselves every day by trying. It's what it means to be human." He didn't bother getting another cigarette, though he did pull out a small metal flask and take a sip from it. He might as well hold up the noir image. Wiping his lip, he offered the flask to Motoko.

"Humanity is a child, growing and evolving like any other species. There's more out there waiting for us. For my part, I can't wait."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Motoko just blinked at him for a moment, staring as if she could impart all the stupidity of his passionate, moving, completely uncalled for outburst in one red-eyed look. What was this man; a politician, or just an idealist idiot?

"You really like giving speeches, don't you, Jean-Luc?" the Major asked, archly.

[four-lights.livejournal.com]

"Only when the whim strikes me," he said, glancing over at Motoko. His wry, self-deprecating grin made it obvious that he knew how she felt about his speech, and just how amused he actually was by it. "Do you disagree? It's perfectly valid if you do, I'm just curious. Your attitude, your bearing, your succinct speech patterns ... you're military, or para-military of some kind, aren't you? Special ops, or internal affair, perhaps. Like the old NSA or CIA of North American history."

[gogopowersuit.livejournal.com]

Samus continued her search of the entire ship, checking every possible hiding spot on Stacy. The Sensoriums toke the longest to clear each day, hunting for any sign of Sam.

This was a set up she had not encountered before. Changing the scenery would alert the occupant to her presence. Not to ruin her stealth, Samus carried on her pursuit of Sam stalking through the streets of this metropolis.

She moved quickly, light on her feet, running through the dark alleys. Eyes moving, checking around corners as she slipped through the city.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

A wide, six-lane street— bare of the traffic it would have been a lifeline for in reality— crossed Samus' path, or was is she who crossed it's? It was a brief interlude of free air around her, like a clearing in a dense and darkened forest. The Jiggabachi helicopters circled the city like dragonflies, and when someone crossed their line of sight so openly, they did not leave the opportunity to waste.

Like some morbid machine amalgamation of wasp and falcon, the helicopter stooped on Samus' position, weaving a line of destruction towards her in automatic machine-gun fire, leaving divots of concrete splashing from bullet's impact points like miniature fireworks. It was massive, black steel and whirling, deafening blades, and very quick. ping-pin—chk, and a seemingly insignificant hole sprouted in the tinted glass at the front of the cockpit. The craft listed to the left, the main blades stuttering and failing as it fell the now-brief distance to the ground, but momentum carried it's steel onwards towards Samus at fatal speed. Motoko hit it from above like a ton of bricks, heels extended and momentum transferring the weight to the ground through twisted steel and still-hot motors in an instant that arrested the motion abruptly.

Mildly, she stood among the wreckage, crouched, and leaped free, "Don't you ever watch where you're going?!"

[gogopowersuit.livejournal.com]

The mass of destruction plummeting towards her failed to worry Samus as it probably should have. Quick reflexes and a sudden burst of acrobatic action removed Samus from direct danger of a falling wreck of a helicopter.

Samus' face didn't reveal the interest or surprise she experienced when watching Motoko's extermination of the helicopter, never letting her sentiments reflect on her always apathetic countenance.

Samus briefly wondered why everyone on this ship was concerned with her safety. While she knew that she could never take down unarmed, she could have just as easily slipped back into safety. Had she wanted to cause a commotion, the Sensoriums had the convenience unavailable on all other parts of Stacy; it allowed her to use her powersuit. It's firepower would be more than enough to take care of anything the city could send her way.

Standing calmly, she met Motoko's words with cold confidence, "Always."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Motoko returned her power face in kind, then flicked her eyes up, and behind Samus, where the explosion and gunfire had attracted a multi-ped tank and another Jiggabachi, closing fast. Decision made, Motoko's gaze shifted back to Samus.

"This is a training sim," She offered, as authoritative as ever, "Think you can handle it?"

[gogopowersuit.livejournal.com]

With a flash of gold light, Samus' powersuit materializes around her; words ineffective compared to this response. She scanned the landscape deciding the best course of action against her mechanical foes.

Missiles made quick work of the Jiggabachi. One to front end sent it spinning into a nearby building. While seemingly less showy than Motoko's actions, the launch of the explosives resulted in several impressive blasts and a mess of fire and ruin in its wake.

Turning to the tank, Samus realized it would take more than a missile to destroy it. She coupled more rockets with charged beams. As it closed it, she ran to meet it. The bulkiness of her suit did nothing to slow her down, avoiding blasts was not an issue. Her grapple beam yanked off a plate; she sends several more blasts into the tank's inner workings. Tank down.

The icon implies motoko has gone for Coffee. This amuses me.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

...or so she thought. The smoke cleared in a hurry and the ground rumbled at the impact as the tank came down to ground again: it had jumped, landing to the other side of the original wrecked Helicopter. For herself, Motoko was nowhere to be seen as the tank turned, ponderous steps that cracked the asphalt under them. It's man gun was not so slow, canon whirling to face her like an angry bird, and fired a shot that made a two-lane crater when it hit.

[starlightace]

Nanoha had heard about this wondrous Sensorium, but hadn't yet had a chance to see it for herself. Only it was occupied, and had its own self-contained world active already - from the landmarks around her, Nanoha could tell immediately that it was Tokyo, but a Tokyo that she'd never seen before, dark and heavy.

There was a woman in there, too - Nanoha recognized her as the one with whom she'd exchanged glances earlier. She approached her from behind, quietly remarking. "I've never seen Tokyo look like this before."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Silently, Motoko turned her eyes towards the girl, evaluating silently without moving her head, then flicked them back to the skyline. She didn't say anything— what was there to say to a statement like that? This was Tokyo, the way it looked at night, if Tokyo had ever been crawling with tanks and power-armored soldiers and predatory helicopters.

[starlightace]

Well, yeah. That was mainly what she was referring to. "Are there always so many soldiers here where you're from?"

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"No," Soft and curt, still looking off into the distance, "It's a training simulation."

[starlightace]

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

She paused - this woman was obviously military, Nanoha could tell. So, perhaps best to introduce herself militarily. Though she didn't salute, she stood straight. "I'm Captain Takamachi Nanoha, magical combat instructor in the TSAB. A pleasure to meet you."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

She might as well have saluted, using that tone and posture. The Major gave that over-eager reaction the sardonic look it deserved, and drawled a question in return, "Magical combat?"

[not-prncss-tldr.livejournal.com]

Lafiel, for her part, has come to the sensorium for pretty much the same purpose. Her training programs tended to run towards the simplistic and primary colored. The lack of extra sensory noise helped her concentrate.

As she stepped into her usual pod, however, she was confronted with a dark cityscape. She was on a four lane, wide city street. There were sputtering streetlights and those overhead pedestrian bridges so ubiqitous in Japan. The pitch night stirred with mechanical stomps and whirs, the flat cracks of gunfire. Crystalline towers of buildings reminded her of her floating home, Lacfacalle. But there was a sinister edge here not present in the Abh capitol. It was far more like...

No. She wouldn't think about that.

"My apologies!" She called to the pod's unseen occupant for interrupting their training accidentally. Something with a syncopated, mechanical walk was wrapping itself in the shadows. A red flash and she threw herself flat instinctively as it went whooshing over where she just was, exploding ten feet past her. She's momentarily deafened. The illusory concrete scrapes real. Her clanyu* is in her hand as she rolls to cover.

Despite her waifish appearance, she was in fact a soldier.





*laser pistol

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Motoko was on the rooftop above, and for a moment it seemed she'd have to intervene—but no. Very interesting, t looked like she had the right instincts, at least. She stepped back before disengaging her camo, and decided to see how the girl would work.

Strange gait and stranger appearance, the silvery ARM-S Suit approached Lafiel with his hand cupped under his gun, at the ready to fire again. It was enormous, three times the size it's pilot would have been on his own, bulky and unyieldingly mechanical. It's AI pilot ground out a sharp order, magnified as if through a bullhorn by his suit's systems as he approached, "Drop your weapon!"

[not-prncss-tldr.livejournal.com]

The square, marble columns of the building next to her provided a conveinent piece of cover as the mechanical nightmare shambled up the street towards her. She's facing the glass doors of some office building. A spacious lobby with its plants and flourescent lighting waits on the other side.

Working fast (she can hear the thumping footsteps), she melts enough of the doors that she can kick the rest through so a portion of it falls as a big glass brick and falls...Huh. It doesn't shatter. Must have been some kind of glasstic alloy.

The pudgy security guard is already getting up from his desk, yelling a similar order to stop as she enters.

Boom. Headshot. She feels no remorse: He's a piece of AI, after all, and his hand was on his pistol.

She's behind his reinforced desk just in time to duck a stream of ammunition that's at least fifty caliber. Huddling with the guard's body, it doesn't look like she can do much. She can't even hack the security system without risking her hand getting shot off.

The ARM-S suit is ducking its bulk through the doorway.

There's a little click from behind the desk, the sound of something being plugged in.

For a few seconds everything goes crazy. Doors open and close randomly. Turrets emerge like spiders from the plants and conference tables and spin wildly, along with the cameras, and spit ammo in all directions.

Lafiel is experiencing the world through the eyes of a building's security system and it is very disorienting. She clutches at her hand, fighting the net security too.

But it wasn't designed to deal with the froce. And as the powered armor approaches the desk, convinced he's not being lured into a trap, something loud and explosive opens his back up. It topples over, adding a metallic third to their impromptu morbid cuddle puddle.

Lafiel takes great, adrenaline laced gulps and suddenly realizes she's let her competitive urges get her involved in someone else's private training excercise. She searches with the cameras, her new eyes. There, on the roof. A serious looking lander woman with red hair and dark purple hair (a Spaurh? nah.).

She speaks up through the announcement system. "My apologies. I got caught up in the moment. I didn't mean to interrupt your training."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

A small, still voice, speaking without sound through the network itself, calm and well assured in a way that connected it immutably to the woman above, "My training? Looks to me like this test is yours alone. How do you think you did?"

[not-prncss-tldr.livejournal.com]

"I think I did well in this simulation...but that's all it was. It doesn't mean I won't be killed on my first mission." Lafiel's natural pride is tempered by a few years of battle experience. She's looking through the eyes of the security cameras, which swing over to look at her. "What was that?" It looks vaguely like what Meluly described her 'Engel' like, but she has a feeling Colo wouldn't go over with just a few 40mm grenades.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"Actually, I'd put you much closer to failing," Motoko cut through the girl's preening dryly, "Why did you feel the security guard deserved to die? Sure, this is just a simulation, but in reality, that man would have been a real person. He didn't do anything but come to work on an ordinary day, like any other— until you showed up. While you get points for good reactions and quick thinking, incidents like that can negate your goals entirely. You can't go around blowing people's heads off just because they're in the way."