BMPixy
Well-Known Member
“Radio Silence/Six of Swords, Reversed”
XCOM Headquarters, Somewhere in Siberia
Exercise Room
2231 Hours Local Time
One two. One two. One two. Albert’s thoughts echoed his fists as they impacted the punching bag, sending it reeling back with every blow. The man danced forwards and backwards, seemingly ducking in between imaginary blows, before rolling in and striking the bag with a simple jab combo before ducking back out.
The automatic door at the other end of the room slid open and closed, but Albert paid it little mind, focused on his training. After all, it was the middle of the night, the room was empty save for him and whoever just came in. Not like I have sole rights to this place, the infantry thought.
“Seems another had similar idea,” a voice said from behind Foulke. This snapped the man out of his regimen, and he steadied the bag with a gloved hand as he turned to face the voice.
Recognizing the face from a mess of half-remembered descriptions, Albert replied, “So, you must be Sergeant Henderson. People have said interesting things about the first psion XCOM’s awakened.”
This drew a furrow from Fay’s brow. “Was unaware of rumors. What has been said?”
“Eh, heard one mention of crime that artificial awakening is a crime against nature and that you’re an abomination, a couple that you’re a demon capable of showing people their worst fears, and a third that says you’re secretly a gynoid with a human brain stuck inside for the purpose of using it’s psychic powers in a bid for world domination,” Albert said with a shrug. “So typical scuttlebutt and baseless rumor, probably will be all forgotten with our new EXALT buddies on base.”
“Nothing new, then,” the psion responded, stepping into position near another punching bag and slowly starting up her warm-ups. “Used to rumors, but not so… extravagant.”
“That's XCOM, baby. We fight aliens, of course it affects how we view the world. Anyways, you're one of those types, eh?” the infantry asked. Upon seeing Fay’s questioning eyebrow, he explained, “Y’know, the outcast. Every unit has one, forced out because of a rumor, and because they’re isolated more rumors start.”
“No, isolation came first,” the sergeant replied, “Marine Corps Scout-Sniper, work naturally inclined towards long periods away from main unit. Normal company was usually spotter and other scout-snipers.”
“Ah, the cold sniper.” Albert turned back to his bag, and began drilling into it once more. “By the way, since I haven’t introduced myself, I’m Albert Foulke, former British Army Captain, now I’m a Corporal here.”
“Very well. Glad to be introduced, Corporal Foulke,” Fay replied, “As known, I am Fay Henderson.”
“Please, don’t refer to my rank off duty,” the Amero-Anglican asked, “I’m casual about these things, just call me Mister Foulke.”
“As you request, Mr. Foulke. In turn, may call me Miss Fay when off-duty.”
“No last name?”
The Sniper shook her head, driving off the reminders of the conversation with her father. “No, not too fond of it.”
“A’ight, not gonna pry, your preference,” Albert said with a shrug.
A minute of silence passed between the two as they worked their bags, drawing up a sweat and warming their muscles. Finally, just as the quiet seemed unbearable, Fay said something.
“Spar?” she asked.
“Hmm?” Albert replied, steadying the bag to keep it from impacting him in the face as he turned to face Fay.
“Do you wish to spar?” the psion asked once more, steadying her bag. “Need to practice psionics in conjunction with hand-to-hand, bag insufficient. Need live opponent.”
“You sure you want to do that? I am Dampened,” the infantry said. Though I might need more practice, in case another Incubator pops up and I have to fight it, he thought.
“Then shall be testing experience as well. Come, let us fight.” Fay stepped away from the bag, walking over to the sparring mats.
With a resigned shrug, Albert took his place opposite his foe, readying his stance. She’s a bit shorter than me, so I have reach on her, but from that frame she has flexibility to counter that. Dammit Al, you’re a married man, get that out of your head!
Shoulder-roll stance. Boxer, most likely. Longer reach, going to wait for my approach and attempt to counter, Fay analyzed, raising her fists, Perhaps feign approach with psionics, attack at leg-level, where he has least training.
“You ready?” Foulke asked, keeping a steady eye on his opponent.
“Now.” With a dim yellow glow, Fay tried to push the image of herself doing a wild charge at Foulke with little regard for her own defense, into Albert’s mind. What happened instead was the man’s eyes going wide and him passing out as his Neural Dampening kicked in, preventing mental influence.
“…unexpected,” Fay said as the events processed in her mind. “But learning experience.” With a gentle nudge of the foot to Albert’s rib cage, she tried to stir the man from the gene-mod induced unconsciousness.
“Hnh-wha-wha’ happened?” Albert blabbered as he sat up from his position, glancing around. “D-did you try to manipulate my mind?”
“Only perception,” Fay replied, offering a hand which the Amero-Anglican gladly took. “That is my power, perception manipulation and telemagery.”
“I’ll have to take your word on that then, considering what happened when you tried it there.” Al pulled himself up, afterwards placing a hand on his temple and massaging away some imaginary pain. “On the bright side, I do know that this gene-mod is working as intended in case my mental defenses get breached.”
“Indeed. Also learned quick way to incapacitate people with such mods.” Fay rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
“Sure you ain’t a demon?” Al said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
Fay shook her head. “No, not such a thing.”
“No, you’re not sure; or no, you aren’t a demon?”
“The latter.”
“Right, right, that’s what I figured,” the infantry replied awkwardly. A brief yawn escaped his throat, answering the question of where the conversation should go. “Eugh, I better get going, that short nap reminded me I need to get some rest. I’ll see you around, eh Miss Fay?”
“Indeed, Mr. Foulke,” the African-American said, waving off the man as he grabbed his training bag and left. Stepping back over to the punching bag, Fay stepped back into her routine, going through the blows and motions that had been ingrained in her since her youth.
XCOM Headquarters, Somewhere in Siberia
Exercise Room
2231 Hours Local Time
One two. One two. One two. Albert’s thoughts echoed his fists as they impacted the punching bag, sending it reeling back with every blow. The man danced forwards and backwards, seemingly ducking in between imaginary blows, before rolling in and striking the bag with a simple jab combo before ducking back out.
The automatic door at the other end of the room slid open and closed, but Albert paid it little mind, focused on his training. After all, it was the middle of the night, the room was empty save for him and whoever just came in. Not like I have sole rights to this place, the infantry thought.
“Seems another had similar idea,” a voice said from behind Foulke. This snapped the man out of his regimen, and he steadied the bag with a gloved hand as he turned to face the voice.
Recognizing the face from a mess of half-remembered descriptions, Albert replied, “So, you must be Sergeant Henderson. People have said interesting things about the first psion XCOM’s awakened.”
This drew a furrow from Fay’s brow. “Was unaware of rumors. What has been said?”
“Eh, heard one mention of crime that artificial awakening is a crime against nature and that you’re an abomination, a couple that you’re a demon capable of showing people their worst fears, and a third that says you’re secretly a gynoid with a human brain stuck inside for the purpose of using it’s psychic powers in a bid for world domination,” Albert said with a shrug. “So typical scuttlebutt and baseless rumor, probably will be all forgotten with our new EXALT buddies on base.”
“Nothing new, then,” the psion responded, stepping into position near another punching bag and slowly starting up her warm-ups. “Used to rumors, but not so… extravagant.”
“That's XCOM, baby. We fight aliens, of course it affects how we view the world. Anyways, you're one of those types, eh?” the infantry asked. Upon seeing Fay’s questioning eyebrow, he explained, “Y’know, the outcast. Every unit has one, forced out because of a rumor, and because they’re isolated more rumors start.”
“No, isolation came first,” the sergeant replied, “Marine Corps Scout-Sniper, work naturally inclined towards long periods away from main unit. Normal company was usually spotter and other scout-snipers.”
“Ah, the cold sniper.” Albert turned back to his bag, and began drilling into it once more. “By the way, since I haven’t introduced myself, I’m Albert Foulke, former British Army Captain, now I’m a Corporal here.”
“Very well. Glad to be introduced, Corporal Foulke,” Fay replied, “As known, I am Fay Henderson.”
“Please, don’t refer to my rank off duty,” the Amero-Anglican asked, “I’m casual about these things, just call me Mister Foulke.”
“As you request, Mr. Foulke. In turn, may call me Miss Fay when off-duty.”
“No last name?”
The Sniper shook her head, driving off the reminders of the conversation with her father. “No, not too fond of it.”
“A’ight, not gonna pry, your preference,” Albert said with a shrug.
A minute of silence passed between the two as they worked their bags, drawing up a sweat and warming their muscles. Finally, just as the quiet seemed unbearable, Fay said something.
“Spar?” she asked.
“Hmm?” Albert replied, steadying the bag to keep it from impacting him in the face as he turned to face Fay.
“Do you wish to spar?” the psion asked once more, steadying her bag. “Need to practice psionics in conjunction with hand-to-hand, bag insufficient. Need live opponent.”
“You sure you want to do that? I am Dampened,” the infantry said. Though I might need more practice, in case another Incubator pops up and I have to fight it, he thought.
“Then shall be testing experience as well. Come, let us fight.” Fay stepped away from the bag, walking over to the sparring mats.
With a resigned shrug, Albert took his place opposite his foe, readying his stance. She’s a bit shorter than me, so I have reach on her, but from that frame she has flexibility to counter that. Dammit Al, you’re a married man, get that out of your head!
Shoulder-roll stance. Boxer, most likely. Longer reach, going to wait for my approach and attempt to counter, Fay analyzed, raising her fists, Perhaps feign approach with psionics, attack at leg-level, where he has least training.
“You ready?” Foulke asked, keeping a steady eye on his opponent.
“Now.” With a dim yellow glow, Fay tried to push the image of herself doing a wild charge at Foulke with little regard for her own defense, into Albert’s mind. What happened instead was the man’s eyes going wide and him passing out as his Neural Dampening kicked in, preventing mental influence.
“…unexpected,” Fay said as the events processed in her mind. “But learning experience.” With a gentle nudge of the foot to Albert’s rib cage, she tried to stir the man from the gene-mod induced unconsciousness.
“Hnh-wha-wha’ happened?” Albert blabbered as he sat up from his position, glancing around. “D-did you try to manipulate my mind?”
“Only perception,” Fay replied, offering a hand which the Amero-Anglican gladly took. “That is my power, perception manipulation and telemagery.”
“I’ll have to take your word on that then, considering what happened when you tried it there.” Al pulled himself up, afterwards placing a hand on his temple and massaging away some imaginary pain. “On the bright side, I do know that this gene-mod is working as intended in case my mental defenses get breached.”
“Indeed. Also learned quick way to incapacitate people with such mods.” Fay rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
“Sure you ain’t a demon?” Al said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
Fay shook her head. “No, not such a thing.”
“No, you’re not sure; or no, you aren’t a demon?”
“The latter.”
“Right, right, that’s what I figured,” the infantry replied awkwardly. A brief yawn escaped his throat, answering the question of where the conversation should go. “Eugh, I better get going, that short nap reminded me I need to get some rest. I’ll see you around, eh Miss Fay?”
“Indeed, Mr. Foulke,” the African-American said, waving off the man as he grabbed his training bag and left. Stepping back over to the punching bag, Fay stepped back into her routine, going through the blows and motions that had been ingrained in her since her youth.
