trans_9 | Let's see what you can do. [Closed]

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Let's see what you can do. [Closed]

Part of her thought it was silly when she did it, hanging up the costume, trying to live a normal life. Oh sure, she could do it easily enough when daddy was around: then it was just a joke, like Mindy Macready was the mask, and this was the reality. In a way, that was the truth: every day, what people called real life got more and more unreal, and people just got more cruel to offset it. So of course those scared got MORE scared, and grasped at whatever part of normal they could and went along, looking the other way. Dave understood that, and that was why he wore the mantle of Kick Ass.

He also really sucked at it.

Which was why they needed someone even MORE intense than a guy in a scuba costume trying to make the world a better place: that was just pipe dreams. They needed someone ruthless, someone with skill, someone who didn't fuck around when it came to stopping the bad guys. Publicity went to Kick Ass, Myspace was for Kick Ass.

But the dirty work, the guts it took to get the job done, fell to her.

Weapons and Possessions had it of course : wig, mask, cape, belt, vinyl jacket: EVERYTHING. It took a few minutes and Mindy Macready was gone now. In her place was a purple haired no shit taking girl in gloves, plaid skirt and a bad attitude. She'd gotten the directions to the Sensoriums already , so now it was time for the waiting game.

And so Hitgirl, attentive to how the Sensorium worked, blanketed her thoughts. If she relived anything, it would be the last time she wore the mask, and that time had been a pretty close call. Her hand rested at her belt where her knife was ticked away, but her glaive was still in hand, waiting for the Major to arrive.

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The Major was a fully armored combat cyborg, militarily specialized to the highest degree, with a bent towards the black ops end of things. For that reason, on-board thermoptic camouflage had always come standard, and that active hiding mechanism served to make her all but invisible as she ghosted past Mindy and watched her fiddle and settle herself against the temptation the Sensorium represented. It would take only the most minor of breaches of discipline to cause a flicker in the imagery.

None came; Mokoto silently disengaged the camo behind Mindy's back.

"The mask is a bit much."

Oh, she was good, and that was just what Mindy had been expecting anyway. She was still trying to figure out what was off about the Major, and even more curious about how she hadn't sensed her in the first place. If she was that good, it made sense, but she hoped it was that and not that Mindy had gotten sloppy. She had never done anything in simulations before: her and dad had always just role played scenarios or did it by ear.

"Comes with the whole outfit," Hit girl said, sounding less warm than her mild mannered identity. "Can't have people finding out your identity, they'd be after you or your family. I try to avoid mistakes where I can. On the ship, the less they known about whose under the mask, the better."

It wasn't like she could trust most of these people yet. She still had to try and weed out the bad eggs.

"Most people don't get very far in this business if they have a family, or anything else, to fall back on," she retorted, much amused. Black ops was not a lifestyle for the faint of heart, or for those who had any other options. She knew that much, first-hand.

"That's not something you have to worry about," Hit Girl said flatly. "I learned that lesson already. But my world is gone at this point, so I doubt it's going to come up again."

She shrugged. She was ready, at least as Hit Girl, to put the past behind her. "So what did you want me to show you?"

"For starters, lets see you shoot," She suggested mildly, "The sensorium can provide you with whatever you need. Use what you're most comfortable with before moving on to more exotic builds."

This oughtta be good.

She said it simply enough, but Mindy was definitely confused. Sure, she had seen Star Trek with her father like any other kid but how was she going to bring up the scenario she was thinking of? Did she speak it aloud or what?

"Listen Major, how do..." She started to say, then was cut short when she was kicked in a face by someone all too familiar. She wasn't dumb enough to bring D'Amico in yet, but she WAS thinking of the first time she'd met Kick Ass: she saved him from Razul, a two bit henchman from D'Amico. Currently he was the owner of the boot that had gone upside Mindy's head. Apparently, he wanted revenge for the whole killing him thing.

But he wasn't going to get that chance, and he sure as hell wasn't going to embarrass her when she was trying to show The Major what she was made of. Besides, he had done what he'd done the last time: he'd given her a few precious seconds, thinking he'd get the upper hand, underestimating what she could do. she'd fallen over the couch, and though he was fast, he was n nowhere near fast enough.

As he approached the couch, the last thing he expected was a katana to his Achilles heel: evidently the Sensoriums DID know how to read he mind when it came to weapons. His scream was cut short though, when the katana flew in an upward arch and found his heart pretty quickly. The rest of the men started shooting, so she bounded back to the couch for only a few seconds, but those seconds were all she needed. A moment later two Glock 23's were in her hand and she shot with deadly accuracy. By the time the smoke cleared, several men and one woman lay dead on the floor: eight, if you counted the fat man outside the door. That hadn't gotten unnoticed by Mindy.

She turned to The Major. "I'm usually better than this. Back home, that scumbag on the floor wouldn't have touched me."

Motoko regarded the girl with a barely concealed urge to sigh. What was wrong with children these days?

"I was thinking more along the lines of a shooting range," she replied, mildly, and the scenario changed to a fairly mundane professional setup, as seen in the practice ranges of police departments all across Japan. The gore on Mindy's clothing vanished with it— everything was immaterial here, even if it soaked in.

"Not that yours wasn't informative."

It was an effort not to roll her eyes. God, was everyone so damn hard up on the ship? Should she wear a "Rated R" sticker over herself or something? Jeez. In any case, when the scenery changed, Hit girl stuck with her Glock 23's.

A shooting range: how interesting. She sighed, readied the pistols, squinting as she took aim. She hit her mark fairly easily and still has time to twist the guns in the air before finishing. When she was done, she re holstered the pistols, shrugging.

"Not really fun, but you get the idea."

"Fun isn't the point," Motoko replied carefully, and decided against it.

She had skill, there was no denying it, but the point, as ever, was control. Professionalism wasn't just a word for 'polite,' it extended to a mode of operation and a common methodology.

In other words: standards.

Filthy-mouthed children didn't shock the Major, nor did those who killed. She'd met her fair share of both, and there was plenty of overlap. What she needed from people she was willing to cart around with her were standards and reliability.

"You've got potential, but I can't use you right now. If you want someone who's willing to bring you up to speed, come by Neuropathy some time," she told the girl, "If all you need to satisfy you is a job that involves hurting people, there's plenty of opportunities."

Hit girl stopped, and here she clenched her fist. It took everything she had to do this, to relive the stupid events in her world, and now she was being told she couldn't be used?! She narrowed her eyes,and looked hard at Motoko.

"I don't like being disregarded. I didn't do all of this shit just to rejected like trash. What the hell is wrong with me? What do you even need?"

"Honestly? I don't care what you like or dislike," Motoko folded her arms and fixed Mindy with a cold, unblinking stare.

"I need people I can depend on to react professionally. I need them to be able to follow orders without asking questions or letting emotions get in the way, and I need them to act autonomously towards goals that they aren't going to enjoy completing and may personally disagree with."

This is the way the world works. It isn't fun or pleasant or easy, but we all come to that point in our lives when we do what we must.

"What I need," she told the girl, in stone mimicry of what she herself had been told, at the same age, in much the same spirit, "Are soldiers.

"You come from New York City, is that right?" She's read your file, girl— Stacy always keeps a file, "Out of everyone there, you're the only you've ever met or seen, who isn't dead. We're not street vigilantes here, taking shots at gang members or crime syndicates, or whatever passes for targets in your world. We're fighting a war."

Hit girl rolled her eyes."Well that's just fucking rude, isn't it? Do you think I came out here and did all of this to brag? I saw you in the crowd of these people, and sought you out. The least you could do is pretend to care that my opinion means shit. I'm not doing this for fun."

She sneered. "Save the pep talk. You hear what you're asking, don't you? You want me to assume that you have the best intentions for the ship, and if anyone has anything different, I have to disagree. Well how do I know you're that kind of person? I'm new here, but it should be damn obvious I give a shit about what happens here. I have to LIVE here now. My duty's going to be toward the actions that will help us fight the Ohm. Shouldn't that be something everyone is fighting for, the most important thing? You want a soldier? I'm telling you that you can get one. But don't for a second that kind of trust is instantaneous. I've gotta know you mean nothing but the best for these stupid people."

And here she narrowed her eyes. "Is there any crime syndicates around? No? Well, look: with them, you had to play their game. You get down and dirty and you're professional, or you died. If you don't like what I did at Raoul's just say so: but know I rely on what I have to, all right? "

"You really don't get it, do you?"

The world flickered and died around them, replaced by graygreen flesh. This interview was over.

"I don't give a damn. You're decent, but you're also a child. If I want an argumentative, stubborn sidekick, I have a wide variety of options to ignore, and most of them are more useful than you," She wasn't angry; her tone was as placid and mechanically polite as Stacy's. Mindy wasn't really worth getting angry over, "I don't need to prove a thing to you; you're the one that needs to impress me, or did you forget that?"

Maybe she'd mature a little, once the 'new slime' smell wore off and reality set in.

"If you really feel like protecting this place, try going out for Security. I really can't use you."

Hit girl made a disgusted noise. This person was part of Security? No wonder this place was such a mess. The adults ran around on their high horse keeping secrets and the rest of the crew took damage as collateral. This chick was as helpful as that damn no eyed guy she talked to before. This bullshit with pretension had more than played on her nerves.

"Not anymore," she said. "I'm done trying to impress people. You wanna waste a perfectly good person, fine. I'm no one's goddamn sidekick though, get that through your head. I'm done with that and with this. I'm fucking OUT."

She walked out. Work for security her ass. If this is what they were like, she wanted to have as little to do with them as possible. maybe it would even be worth it to stir a little shit up. The higher ups, she guessed, were no better than the half assed police department back home. This whole thing was a waste of time, but at least she learned her lesson. Taking orders like some tool was definitely not her style.

"Free lancing it is then," she said to herself. "Maybe I should check out those Outsiders."

Motoko doesn't work for security, kid. She offered you a job interview and you didn't live up to expectations— one of the hazards of having standards as high as the Majors.

Just as well; their morals wouldn't have lined up, anyways. Motoko wasn't in public security because she enjoyed helping people. Quite the opposite.

Kids these days: no sense of perspective.

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Let's see what you can do. [Closed]

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