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trans_92010-07-09 10:18 pm
standaloneshell.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92010-07-09 10:18 pm
Proving Ground [ Open To All ]
The sensoriums made for a convenient training ground for all the right reasons, but most of all because they allowed Motoko to cheat. It hardly seemed fair for the world around to be controlled by whatever constituted the strongest mind, or the most established, but on these proving grounds, as ever, fairness was not part of the equation.
The world was a sleepy summer day, warm with cicada song and dry, ragged grass, knee-high in places, scorched to the earth in others. An abandoned, decrepit skeleton of a Soviet military base dominated the landscape, dotted here and there with holes like dark hollow eyes among the crumbling walls and roofless, exposed innards. Once, this place had been alive, and now it was as bleached as bones in the grass, as nature retook what man had conquered.
Here and there the rusted-out remains of tanks slumped where they had been abandoned. Red paint, incongruously fresh, marked a series of them as targets at the far end of a carefully 'makeshift' firing range, though most sat aimlessly, unmarked and unattended. The place nearest the door was dominated by one such tank, perhaps in slightly better repair than the others, and perched upon it was the reason for all the fuss and trials. Major Kusanagi folded her arms and leaned her back against the treads, casting a sidelong look at what was left of Section Nine.
It was going to be a long day.
[ OOC:Wait for Subthreads, please. OKAY, GO GO GO GO! ]
The world was a sleepy summer day, warm with cicada song and dry, ragged grass, knee-high in places, scorched to the earth in others. An abandoned, decrepit skeleton of a Soviet military base dominated the landscape, dotted here and there with holes like dark hollow eyes among the crumbling walls and roofless, exposed innards. Once, this place had been alive, and now it was as bleached as bones in the grass, as nature retook what man had conquered.
Here and there the rusted-out remains of tanks slumped where they had been abandoned. Red paint, incongruously fresh, marked a series of them as targets at the far end of a carefully 'makeshift' firing range, though most sat aimlessly, unmarked and unattended. The place nearest the door was dominated by one such tank, perhaps in slightly better repair than the others, and perched upon it was the reason for all the fuss and trials. Major Kusanagi folded her arms and leaned her back against the treads, casting a sidelong look at what was left of Section Nine.
It was going to be a long day.
[ OOC:
Re: [ Firearms ]
“Dustin.” He came to a stop several feet away, using the tank as a convenient resting point in favor of leaning on his crutch. That radio chatter passing between the man he was regarding and the Major a ways off definitely wasn’t something Dustin could decrypt or immediately pick up, not in passing, but there was enough remote-controlled metal in his body—and enough reception in his Element-filled nervous system—that it registered as a faint tingling in his temples, like a bit of atmospheric electricity during a storm. Being around the Major had made him used to this sensation, and thus Dustin ignored it, other than to perhaps solidify the hypothesis that the two individuals were more closely related than just like-minded crewmembers. Same universe, at least (although on second thought it probably didn’t take so much effort to discern all this—Dustin wanted to be sure).
Now—to answer his question. Dustin would’ve folded his arms if he could. “Enough experience that I’m still living. What do you have for me?”