Liberty and Death, Chapter 44
Life at Luxholme had taken a grand total of two days to begin to feel normal. Maybe it was the experience of adjusting to strange shooting schedules in stranger locales, but as she fell into the formation of ex-maids doing laps around the courtyard, she did so with a comforting sense of familiarity.
And a whole lot of other senses as well, it turned out.
Her HUD bloomed with new readouts, her speed, caloric expenditure, stride and heart rate. They were all unobtrusive, but easy to read if she needed them. Perhaps most important of all, was a small bar labeled [Agi]. Over the course of 5 miles worth of laps, it filled maybe 1/100th.
When she followed the line of women, which Dip had joined at some point, into the training ring, she grinned at Iain jogging up to him and slapping hands.
“Hey!” She panted, though really, she wasn’t tired. 5 miles and she wasn’t even sweating. “All these fancy readouts mean you got your class?”
“Ayup!” Iain grinned back, raising an eyebrow at her until she fell back into line, obeying the little hologram insisting she begin jumping jacks.
“So? Spill!” Cora prodded, Iain scowling at her when, unlike the maids, she had zero visible signs of exhaustion.
“Cannae ye just look at me page?” He asked.
“Yeah, but I like your accent!” Cora grinned, and Iain’s scowl deepened. The frustration was immediately taken out on one of the other women who was letting her form slip on the jumping jacks.
“Oy! Get them arms up there, Julie! Dinnae be thinkin’ I ain’t see yer slackin’! Goes fer all o’ ye! Eeeeeeverything yer seein’ in those pretty lil’ eyes o’ yers I’m seein’ in mine! No sandbaggin’!” He finished his rant, then glared back at Cora. She imagined he was looking her readouts, all comfortably in the green.
“Bah! Was hopin’ not to have to use this before ye gave me a reason, but fook it lass, I’m takin’ that smirk as reason enough!” He roared, and with each word, billowing white smoke left his throat, surging around Cora and rushing into her lungs.
Immediately, Cora started to feel those jumping jacks. More than she ever had before to be honest. It felt like she’d been working out for hours, legs heavy, arms leaden, lungs burning. In the upper right corner of her vision, one word flashed red and white.
{SMOKED!}
The worst part of it was she couldn’t really stop. It wasn’t so much a physical force making her move as it was some kind of deep motivation, almost a fear, that if she didn’t power through, things would be worse.
It didn’t stop her from glaring at Iain as her effort readouts all crept into the red.
They stayed in that range until she felt like she’d die, before the {SMOKED!} notification faded, and her enhanced abilities flowed back into her like life-giving water.
“Holy fucking SHIT Iain, that sucked!” Cora gasped, even as her high [Vit] and tech brought her quickly back to 100%. She noticed that in that short time, her [End] had risen as much as her [Agi] had over an hour of running.
“Aye, imagine she did,” Iain chuckled. “One of the perks of bein’ a [Drill Sergeant], got me ways ter deal with tough lasses such as yerself.”
When her body had recovered, Cora got back to it, now following the hologram doing burpees in her vision. Turned out, those sucked more or less regardless of whether or not you were supernaturally fit.
“So–
you–
got–
Drillsergeantasyourclass?” Cora gasped in between jumps, finishing fast as she could when her hologram began to rest.
“Ayup, got to pick between it and [Soldier (U)] and [Commando (E)]. Other two would’ve been a lot better ‘n a scrap, but I ken what yer tryin’ to do here lass, ‘n I’m on board. This class is focused entirely on making newly [Integrated] people better,” Iain explained.
Cora looked at him, surprised, and also warmed by his buy-in.
“That…. That’s a pretty big personal sacrifice, Iain. Thank you,” she said.
“Is it now?” Iain laughed, “coz way I see it, I get to stay with the pretty girls all day, ‘n not get shot at, or chased by monsters at night now.”
“.... Fair point, and I am still paying you. But either way, I literally could not have asked for something better, in turns of what I want for this place,” she said, as Iain circled his hand above his head, shouting instructions to form up for sparring.
“Oh I ken, lass, I ken,” Iain said softly, a sly look of pride crossing his craggy face when only Cora could see it. “I’m thinkin’ ‘twill be worth it. I’m hard on em, but these girls here don’t lack fer motivation. Be reg’lar fookin’ Banféinní in no time.”
“Gonna have a great trainer!” Cora said, as Trish lined up across from her, holding out the handle of a long wooden knife to Cora.
“Care to dance?” Trish asked with a wink, and Cora grinned, accepting the weapon.
“Aren’t you, like, a sharpshooter? You know I’ve actually held one of these before right,” Cora jibed back, wiggling the wooden knife. She turned her body, and sat into a familiar ready stance, knife in her leading hand.
“Oh, you better believe this ain’t my first time holding a knife, bosslady,” Trish laughed, matching Cora’s stance. It was good, good enough that she’d definitely done it before, and once more Cora marvelled at the similarities between their worlds. Maybe Silat was just a good way to kick someone’s ass in whatever reality you were in.
Around them, Iain ran most of the women through kata and strike drills, very rote, highly tiring, and building in the muscle memory and reactions they’d need to be competent fighters, regardless of what their stats ended up saying. Dip worked next to Tinny, lanky frame considerably less graceful than the girl’s, but not lacking for enthusiasm.
Ah fuck, we gotta integrate people! I forgot, last night, aft–
Cora barely flicked her knife around in time to direct Trish’s lunge past her.
“No fookin’ wetware in me trainin’ ring unless I say so, Casanova!” Iain yelled from the ringside as Trish pressed her assault. “There’ll be noooo gettin’ saved by that Reactimax if ye fook up!”
That was clear, as Trish moved her own blade in quick, precise cuts, accompanied by strikes from her other limbs every time Cora got complacent. There were plenty of calls close enough they should have activated her implants, but no dice.
“This your new class!?” Cora yelled back. “I feel like I should be faster!”
“Aye! Kind of!” Iain said, with a tone of warning. “Pay attention to ye fookin’ sparring partner, lass!”
Cora was, she didn’t need to be told that, but the fact was while Trish was clearly highly competent, Cora had sparred with Iko Uwais. Competent didn’t cut it.
When Trish leaned in for a lunge, Cora slipped her torso past it, stepping into Trish’s center and delivering a quick kick to her post leg. Trish stumbled from the sudden imbalance, just slightly, but she choked when the tip of Cora’s knife beneath her chin was what stopped her fall.
“Daaaaamn, bosslady,” Trish chuckled, rubbing at her throat as she regained her balance. “You got the fucking goods, that’s for sure, not that I really doubted it after that shit with the Addicts. Again?”
Cora met Trish’s fierce grin with her own, and fell back into her ready stance.
After 5 bouts, it was clear Trish wasn’t going to touch Cora. It wasn’t that she wasn’t good, she’d put any of the other women on their asses quick as a blink. It was more that she was assembly line good. She’d clearly been trained, and trained well, but she hadn’t taken that training and run with it like Cora had.
The hours upon hours of practice, both personal, and with partners far more skilled than she was, meant Cora was just in a different league, superhuman abilities or no.
It also demonstrated Iain’s ability at switching gears. Between bouts, he’d been prepping Cora over party chat to run some demonstrations for the beginners. After a few rounds though, he’d had her start prepping Trish instead. It had turned out whatever her martial art was, it wasn’t Silat, though it had elements, but it was damn close to whatever Iain’s home military had used. When Trish had finally had enough losses, he called her up front.
That was the right choice. Not only was Trish the perfect training dummy, competent enough to fail convincingly, she was then able to demonstrate the techniques on the girls, all business, no flourish, exactly as they were supposed to be done. Cora hoped some of these girls would find the same love of martial arts she had, but if they didn’t, this was the right way to create the kind of generalist competence Trish displayed.
As she watched, a little of that same pride Iain had clearly felt beginning to bloom in her chest at the sight of people putting in the work to take back their lives, a gnarled old hand on her shoulder made her jump.
“Oh, just me, dearie,” Jocasta cackled, the sound making it clear she’d known exactly what effect those cold lil’ grabbers would have on an unsuspecting woman. “Just wondering if you’d decided who’ll be receiving those cores?”