"Training" [open]

[piper90npcs]

Who: Lubitsch and anyone
What: NPC question-asking
Where: The Training Gym
When: A few days into their captivity, after the sheetcake meetup.
Warnings/Notes: cw: suicide/war violence in the thread with Saturday, forgot to put the cw: in the comment subject. Also, feel free to go with action or prose and I'll match.

[It is days before they can get Lubitsch to actually do his damn job. After one excuse after another and a faked ass injury "however can I train when I've pulled a glute?" he's finally hit the impenatrable wall of "or else," and so here he is, finally in to start picking up his schedule rotation.]

[He looks at them all, milling about the training area like a lot of superpowered arseholes and the fact that they're one thin shock collar away from tearing the walls down like tissue paper is not lost on him. It inspires the same feelings you have when seeing some majestic beast of the savanna, night-stalking terror of all that prances, in a small cage in a road-side zoo. ("And over here we have the Unfraggable Crunk, the strongest there is...and for $450 you can get a picture of him being patted on the head by your small, sticky child.")]

[Some terrible, unfunny cosmic joke, this whole thing. They should all be off in other universes fighting zombies or charming small creatures or starring in crashing, loud, summer popcorn flicks, what a fucking waste.]

[After being deposited at the door by two guards, the British soldier stomps in. He has a soldier's bearing, shoulders up, body liquid and stiff all at once. He looks like he's in his mid to late twenties, but the sour expression makes him look older. He takes on a drill sergeant's voice, in mimicry of a highly respected drill sergeant he once knew, as he yells loudly:]

Alright, you bumholes, listen up! As of this moment, the time to knit doilies and play with dollies is officially over! You thought Planker was bad? Well you're dead fucking wrong, you puke-faced, snot-nosed -

[And he goes back to the door, still shouting.]

- gurgling infants, and today is the day you maggots learn to stop dribbling all over yourselves -

[He peeps his head outside.]

- because I will beat the weakness out of - oh thank fuck, the guards are gone. [His tone immediately changes to be far more genial. Quiet. Even a little gentle, despite the salty language that follows. His shoulders relax.] And here I was worried that when I did this Jorgmund would have their hand so far up my arse it'd make a Muppet blush.

[Far calmer, far more reasonable he says:]

Seeing as they're a bunch of arseholes in a trenchcoat standing on each other's shoulders and pretending to be human, you can expect them to try to stop up every meat grinder they see with your bloody corpses, so if any of you need actual training you can't get from each other, I'm willing to do it. Black ops, firearms, melee weapons, hand to hand blah blah and fucking blah, I've done it -- during the apocalypse, I might add - and I can maybe teach it. Maybe.

Don't actually know, haven't tried, but unlike some small-dicked gorillas I don't need to name I can probably teach it with actual instructions and without screaming my head off, which is automatically a step up.

But if not, I'm going to fuck off on company time and do absolutely nothing.

[He gives them a big enthusiastic thumbs up at that, then pulls out a comic book hidden in a pocket of his black cargo pants, climbs up on some stacked gym mats, kicks up his legs, and starts reading. If any of them ask questions, he won't stop reading, but he will at least answer. And if they ask for help with training, he might actually give it. And he won't suck as bad as Planker.]

Comments

[turntex]

[Training is 100% the worst thing about this whole mess in Dave's opinion. Like, yeah, all the corporate nonsense and the whole forced compliance via threat of pain and death? Also terrible. But the mandatory training shit has him tense and feeling vaguely nauseous. Maybe it's all at least somewhat legit this time around, actual "training" rather than just beating up on someone and expecting them to figure shit out along the way, but even still. Yeah. Not a fan.

So this guy basically giving them a free period is suddenly his favorite person.

He lingers awkwardly for a moment, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Is this a joke or a trick or what, etc. But the dude just takes a seat and chills and eventually everyone drifts off to do their own things. Cool. He briefly considers doing the same, just sitting in a corner somewhere and maybe fucking around on the network or something until they're allowed to leave.

What he actually ends up doing is appoaching the stack of mats, looking up to eye their amazing training curiously, and then casually floating up to hover at eye level.]

Not that I'm gonna fault anyone for not giving a shit about any of this, but like...for real?

[It still feels like a trick somehow. Like he's gonna ease up a little and then immediately get a kick in the ass for being stupid enough to let his guard down.]

[piper90npcs]

[He leans over slightly.]

I don't know about you but my patience when it comes to firmly planting my lips on someone's arse for my bread and butter, well, it fucks off juuuust shy of being tolerant of de facto slavery.

[He settles in back to read again.]

There are a lot of people on the rig hacked off about it, but due to certain involuntary contingencies, I've just got a bit more leeway in expressing my respectful displeasure.

[turntex]

[Man, he really wants to believe this guy really is just that cool. It'd be nice to feel relatively at ease in this room for once.

Caution overrides, though.]

Aren't there cameras in here or something? We're just supposed to buy that a disinterested trainer means we're all totally off the hook? There isn't some other staffer somewhere peepin' this scene about to bust in and put us all right back on said hook with a few motivational zaps?

[piper90npcs]

Cameras don't work. Nowhere on the rig. They like to keep it hush hush. I've dicked around with them a bit. Something about Alexa something something primary network failure.

One of the people with a little more...insight on the IT situation likes to complain very loudly where many others can hear. They're real bad about forgetting the low-level wage slaves have ears.

And that they exist.

[He turns a page.]

And if someone comes in, I'll pop up and start yelling about laps and act like I'm gathering you back up from floor exercises for more useless screaming. If this group can't be fast on their feet and pretend to be busy when some security prick comes in, they'd better learn how to be faster right quick.

[He briefly raises his eyebrows.]

I've been out there. Was out there when the bombs hit.

[He doesn't elaborate any farther or look away from his comic.]

You're going to have to be fast on your feet in the field. Best learn now by dodging the wag man.

[turntex]

Huh.

[Dave's eyebrows raise as well, arching just up above the shades. If true, that's good news. He seems to consider it for a moment before shrugging, drifting to the side a bit, and alighting on the mat stack to sit a few feet away.]

You don't gotta tell me this shit. I'm already the fastest fucker this side of the goddamn void. Don't need motivation in the form of Sargeant Spittle yelling in my face or some tool with a shock button.

[wheyoftheadept]

Saturday minds her own business for a good while, and watches doors and corners. When she's convinced enough that her curiosity outweighs her paranoia, she sidles over to Lubitsch and cranes her neck at the comic book.

"Watcha readin'?"

[piper90npcs]

He holds up a copy of 2000 AD.

"Prime post-apocalyptic slice of life. A different flavor of everything going to absolute shit."

He goes back to reading.

"You always speculate about the path not taken and wonder about the many other ways it could've inevitably gone tits up."

[wheyoftheadept]

"You from this joint's Before Times, then? Gotta admit I did not pay a lot of attention to the briefing."

She reads the comic a bit over his shoulder. "How does this one measure up to your experience?"

[piper90npcs]

"No corporations, but more government totalitarianism, so similar amounts of fucked. I don't trust police or government anymore than corporations. Government's the one that thought dropping great whopping nothing-bombs on civilization was a winning idea."

As for the rest...

"And I was from before. Front row seats to the fucking end times."

It's not an exaggeration.

[wheyoftheadept]

"Any sufficiently big and bastardly organization ends up acting the same whatever you call it," Saturday agrees. She settles on the edge of the mats, casual-like. "Where'd they even get that shit? It's like - some kinda fucked up Awakened gray goo scenario."

She pronounces the capital A.

"We got some fucked up shit where I'm from, but nothin' like that."

[greyerrant]

[ Loken trundles over to the man reading on the mat, and walks over, more or less still at eye level with him. ]

You sounded like an Imperial Army sergeant there for a moment. It was amusing. [ That said, Loken hasn't cracked a smile. I take it you don't like our erstwhile hosts, then?

[piper90npcs]

Nnnot exactly a fan of our boss, no.

[A pause, as he looks over the top of his comic, not sure how much to reveal.]

[He takes a moment and then licks his lips thoughtfully.]

You're not the only ones that aren't happy about being here, but there are many pain-in-the-arse reasons why some of us are here, sometimes reasons we...

[A pause.]

They're good at holding certain things over your head.

[greyerrant]

Well. If you need some help at some point in the future, count me in.

[ he doesn't say more than that on the subject, but instead moves on to something a bit more... social. ]

My name is Garviel Loken. I'd be glad to know yours.

[piper90npcs]

[The offer of help gets a flicker of a soft look. Something almost pleading. And timid, like a woodland creature not sure if they should trust a hand that feeds him, oh dangerous hand of man. Then it's gone.]

Lubitsch. [A pause, because last names were involved.] Just Lubitsch.

And thanks for the offer but I'm...good. [He's not.] Also, might I say: shocked at the magnanimity. You have every reason to distrust every fucking one of us.

[greatlyexaggerated]

[Cain raises an eyebrow at the theatrics, at first. But he waits until a few of the other New Hires have talked the man first, occupying himself in the meantime with pushups close enough to gauge the tone of their conversation but far enough not to be suspicious, then deems it safe enough to casually approach him, wiping sweat from his forehead.]

That was quite the impression of Planker, earlier. Even if I can't quite imagine his usage of the word "bumhole".

[He smiles, self-consciously.]

What's a man like you doing nothing on company time, instead of being - and I imagine vastly preferably - literally anywhere else, while doing the same thing?

[piper90npcs]

[Lubitsch smirks a bit at mention of "bumhole."]

I may have been half-channeling Wanker and half-channeling a certain trainer I was once blessed to be acquainted with.

[It's only half-sarcastic, mention of the trainer. There's fondness in his voice. That was Ronnie Cheung for you, someone that made you look fondly at memories of being repeatedly hit in the head and constantly being called a bumhole.]

As for me, you talk like there is anywhere else, anything else.

Jorgmund is everywhere, controls everything. You want to eat, you have to work, you want to work, you work for Jorgmund. The alternative is trying to make it out in the Wilds where there are....things. Out there.

And weird, freaky things you might be changed into.

[It may not be the whole truth but it's a partial truth for everyone working for Jorgmund.]

If not here, I'd just be under their thumb somewhere else.

[greatlyexaggerated]

[Aha. Some political information about the state of the world, that isn't filtered through Jorgmund's lens.]

Damned if you do, damned if you don't. [Cain says, ruefully and knowingly.] I see. The dangers of this world... We had a hint of how dangerous with that Stuff leak a few days ago, but I couldn't be sure if it was as all bad as they were saying. Or if they were capable of doing exactly what they said.

[He glances away, the smile tightening with a hint of tragic but determined strain. The number four.]

We could be considered quite lucky, then?

[piper90npcs]

Not even a little. You're on latrine duty, mate. Shit patrol. Metaphorical midden-shoveling. I'm not sure what you all did in a past life to wind up here, but you must've been world-class wankers.

[A pause.]

Food's good and that doesn't come easy but your job's going to be a handful and with the new - and slightly terrifying - dimension-shifting, it'll be even more of a mess than when I was on field work.

[takenalive]

[Alloran laughs. It's soundless, of course, a sensation like a pot on the stove starting to boil, or the electric pop of a staple fed into an outlet. He lies down, crossing one foreleg delicately over the other, tail in a neat curl.]

<So some things are the same everywhere.>

[piper90npcs]

[He raises his eyebrows a little at the...alien? Or is he New?]

[Does it matter? Lubitsch isn't one of the ones that judges someone for something like that.]

[In fact, he - (he and G - well, he did that one alone, didn't he) had been the first to tell Jorgmund to fuck off when they ordered him and the others to hunt some of the New.]

Gleefully flipping off your corporate employer? Fuck, I hope so.

[He'd been a bit of an activist after college, before getting blacklisted by the government for wrongful accusations of terroristic activities. He and authority are not really friends, his time in the military aside.]

Damn the man and so on.

[takenalive]

<The last time I was forcibly recruited by aliens it was to someone worse. Unless your employer beheads its own people while everyone watches, and then there's a convenient way to cut down on ration costs and raise morale.>

[Alloran considers, and shrugs. It's possible. Humans would need some manual tools. They're quite deficient in the edged weapons department and poorly equipped for consuming unprocessed flesh.]

<Once he had the idea that he could drug human food supplies to remove free will, and made a whole research department work on that, and he responded poorly to setbacks like 'what is free will' and 'that much brain damage makes them useless' and 'humans heat their food to a degree that alters any drugs we could use' and so on. The last scientists deserted. Left a computer singing his praises and claiming success with nothing to show. It was a truly spectacular waste of supplies and talent.>

[piper90npcs]

Wow.

[He breathes in and breathes out puffs out a little puff of air.]

I was going to open with 'Wanker' but it seems too light an insult there.

I'm sorry.

[He genuinely is sorry Alloran had to deal with that.]

They don't really go with soylent green around here - I hope.

[A pause.]

But just...

[He looks around just to make sure the guards haven't come back and sneaked in.]

They'd do that. If they could. Jorgmund.

The mind control. Don't underestimate them. And for the love of God be careful what tech you bring back to them. They'll ask you to on missions. I know someone who knows someone in the labs, they want things from those dimensions folding in.

Don't forget to think about what they might use it for.

[becauseimacoward]

[Now ain't that quite the thing!

Dojima is incredibly grateful for this. At first, he had been pretty wary of Jorgmund -- naturally! They had brought them all from many worlds, had them all under their post-apocalyptic thumb, and pretty much gave no options.

But since the first day everything just reeked of incompetence. Or maybe negligence was a more fitting word. It leads him to approach their not-so-enthusiastic trainer.

Which...is actually good! There's far more leeway than Dojima had ever imagined! He has even dared to be just a little more relaxed -- that he came here to talk candidly was a pretty big sign he wasn't on edge.

Not to say he's not cautious, but he's at least willing to not be so stiff anymore]

Do Jorgmund think we're expendable or that we're stupid?

[...looks like he's still being as straightforward as ever, though. Some things never change.

But yeah, one or both of those reasons would explain so well how they're unable to hold things together competently]

[piper90npcs]

[Lubitsch makes a 50/50 gesture.]

On the one hand, stumbling on people - New or transplanted - that have powers and are slow enough to catch makes you rare enough you're valuable assets.

But they don't care if there's occasional "unfortunate collateral." [Air quotes]. And are blind to the fact they've got the collective intelligence of a sea sponge.

[He holds up one finger.]

One sea sponge, not even a plural.

That means they think they're smart enough to keep you under lock and key. I'd hazard a guess with space aliens and superheroes, they're wrong.

[He shakes the comic.]

They don't read enough of these.

[passifloraincarnata]

[Setsuna's eyes narrow, and she squints at him, quizzical and wary. this has to be some sort of scheme, right? so she hangs back, and does her exercises, the ones she's been trained in, both as a dancer and as - something else - and keeps an eye and an ear on his conversations with the other "New Hires", waiting and attentive. she's used to eavesdropping, after all. it was a good way to get one over on people, and not a waste of time Moebius ever saw fit to punish.]

[but he keeps being consistently the sort of person he seems to be - a nice enough one, under the circumstances, and serious, rather than vindictive.]

[eventually, it's a good time for a break, so she takes it, and wanders up to him, toweling her face off.]

... hello ... You were out there when the - when what they said happened to the world happened?

[her face grows more serious, if that's possible, more concerned.] Is it really as bad as they said it was?