James followed Lizzy closely, and was slightly startled when he heard the Director. He took a glance at the man, and then at the man beside him, the Councillor, then turned back to see Lizzy taking a seat. James sat in a free seat beside her, and started to feel unusually excited. He couldn't help but smile excitedly, which couldn't be seen through his helmet. In fact, why do I need to keep this on? he thought, slipping his helmet off. James quickly turned whispered to Lizzy; "This is like, really exciting. Almost as exciting as the first time I talked to FILSS."

Lizzy smiled at Iowa's comment, but she kept her helmet on to shield it. As it was, the Director glanced in their direction before continuing his address to the assembled freelancers.

"You are the first group of freelancers to be admitted to the program, and as such you will be the first to experience the full preparation the Freelancer program can provide. Beginning tomorrow morning, all of you will be subject to fitness tests that will enable us to see the extent of your aptitude at a variety of skills. Once you have been assessed on your abilities, we will be conducting a series of training exercises where you will face off against your fellow freelancers. At the conclusion of the training exercises, ranks will be given according to your scores. Each mission you complete after these initial ranks are given will adjust your placement on the list and determine the amount and difficulty of the missions you are assigned to in the future."

The Director finally paused, flicking his gaze from helmet to face in the room. "Please take these training exercises seriously. They will be the first step toward determining your career with Project Freelancer."

The Counselor stepped forward and addressed the room in his soft, halting voice, denoting the end of the Director's speech. "The order of fitness exams will be listed in the locker room by 17:00. If there are no questions, you are free to go. Oh, and welcome to Project Freelancer."

Donovan stood, glad to finally have a plan on what to do: Kill time. After scooping up his helmet, Donovan approached Massachusetts, and a freelancer he didn't recognize in green and purple armor. He addressed the pair. "Hey guys! Hell of a welcome wagon huh?" He chuckled "I don't know about you two, but I haven't eaten yet. Wanna head down to the mess hall, grab some grub?"

Donovan made for the door, when he realized he had yet to introduce himself to the freelancer beside Massachusetts. He spun about, and extended his arm. "Good to meet you, by the way. I'm Donovan!"

James turned to face Donovan. "I'm James Feryana, designated as Iowa. Nice to meet you." He smiles at the man. Hmm, should I or should I not? James thought. I need to do training, but I'm also quite hungry. Well, it would be impolite to refuse, so...
"And I'd be happy to grab some grub with you." James says to Donovan. "I haven't eaten either. If there's enough time afterwards, I'll probably do some training." He grinned. He barely needed training, as far as he was concerned. He was already good at hacking, though now that he thought about it, he could touch up his close combat skills a bit.

Zaccar moved towards the door of the room, deciding that getting something to eat before training would be a good idea since he had yet to eat. In doing so he had to get past three of the other freelancers. One being rather noisy, called Donovan apparently, another named James he heard as he had gotten closer while the the third hadn't spoken to the other two yet.
He didn't stop much to chat with them though. He merely glided by them, surprising for such a large guy, and made his way down to the mess hall.

Lizzy had been following the brief conversation, but her helmet followed Montana as he left the room. So few of the other freelancers were reaching out, and when that was coupled with the Director's speech, Lizzy was beginning to get a suspicious inkling that perhaps she hadn't entirely understood what Project Freelancer was all about. Maybe some of the others would feel the same as she did, but it wouldn't be possible to tell without asking, and she wasn't certain about sticking her neck out just yet. Her attention returned to Illinois and Iowa as they began moving toward the door. Well, maybe with these two it would be easier to tell, as well as to ask.

"Food sounds good," Lizzy agreed, standing with the pair of them. Yes, clearly friendly was Illinois' default state. "I can always try to score some training time later. Always room for making friends, though. I knew this was going to be an assignment where we worked independently a lot, but I kind of assumed there would be some camaraderie here."

As they reached the door of the room, Lizzy motioned at Laura. "Hey, Cali, you wanna join us? We're going to grab some food."

Donovan smiled broadly as the two freelancers agreed to join him. He noticed that a freelancer was already leaving through the door by the time he was done speaking. He was clearly very good at moving silently, and Donovan made note of that. He returned his attention to Massachusetts and Iowa. "Glad to make your acquaintance James. My designation is Illinois." He followed Massachusetts to the door. When she stopped to speak to California, he stopped as well, and added, "Come on! The more the merrier!"

Donovan waved for California to join him as he exited the room, and started down the hall.

James nodded appreciatively at the man's designation, and followed him, starting to walk down the hall, taking a glance at 'Cali' while doing so. Cali, Cali... He thought a bit. Cali...fornia? California! James grinned. He thought that he had figured out the designation of the maroon and gold colored freelancer, but it could easily be the wrong one. At least I took a guess, James thought, his grin still on his face.

"Sorry, no time for me to eat. I need to get back to the training room and work on my shooting."

Laura slipped out the door and went down the hall, walking her usual fast paced stride as she went. The halls were empty and quiet, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She recounted the behaviors of the other Freelancers at the meeting, noting herself as one of the few who seemed to be taking things seriously, the others being Montana and Alaska. Aside from them, it seemed the others were more interested in talking to eachother than they were in the Director's speech. Before she knew it, Laura had found her way back to the training room, and entered through the door.

"FILSS, bring up some targets, I want to get some shooting practice in today."

"Right away, Agent California. Would you like moving or stationary targets?"

"Moving, and at approximately thirty five meters."

As she spoke, two rings of twenty five targets rose from the floor around her, and a platform with weapons rose next to her. Laura grabbed a pair of M7 Submachine Guns and an M90 Close Assault shotgun, Stepping back from the table as it retracted into the floor. She stepped into the center of the two rings of targets, then spoke.

"FILSS, start countdown."

"Training start in three. Two. One. Begin."

Laura started off by pointing her SMGs at two different targets, holding down the trigger, and releasing the storm of lead from the barrels of the weapons. The first targets fell quickly, and as she repositioned the weapons so as to aim at two new targets, she began running towards the edge of the ring, kicking through one target and into one behind it. As she jumped back, the targets fell, as well as the two hit by the bullets. She ran to another edge of the ring, gunning down another ten targets along her way with quick bursts. She drop kicked on target back into a second one behind it, firing her SMGs at the targets nearest to her in an outward arc, starting from the ones beside the target she kicked. By the time she pushed off the ground and back onto her feet, another ten had fallen. She turned around quickly and fired off the last rounds in the guns, grunting with slight frustration as the magazines went dry. She threw the first one into the air and the second at a target, then kicked the first gun out of the air at another target. Another two hit the ground. Twenty two were left standing, and she had twelve shots in her shotgun. With little thought, she turned and fired, taking down two targets that had rotated to behind her, then rolled and stopped in a kneel, firing again at another two. Eighteen and ten. She fired two more shots, claiming the lives of three targets near her. She jumped back to the center and turned on a heel, continuing with her momentum to the other side and firing more shots, one hitting one target, then next two, and the last a lucky three as she came to a stop near the edge, redirecting and firing again for another two hits. Seven targets, four shells left. She took a shot at two nearing eachother, scoring another two hits, then picked out individual targets with the last of her shots, leaving two standing when she ran out of ammunition. She threw the shotgun at one target as she rushed at the other, plowing into it and breaking it apart as the other one hit the ground. Slightly out of breath, Laura stood and regained her composure, talking to FILSS.

"What was my time, FILSS?"

"Fifty targets in one minute, thirty seven seconds."

"Fuck, I thought I did better than that... Alright FILSS, start it again, and get me some more guns."

Donovan shrugged as the fourth freelancer left to room. He turned to Massachusetts and Iowa, and spoke. "Well, no use waiting then, is there? Let's get on our way!" He then strode from the room. Donovan continued down the hall, and approached the elevator. When it arrived, Donovan stepped in, and was about to jab one of the many buttons, when he realized he didn't remember where to the mess hall was. He sheepishly asked Massachusetts, "Do you remember what floor it's on? I've, eh, not really paid much attention since I came aboard,"

Zaccar had remained silent, he had been ahead of the talkative group of freelancers but now was stuck with them in the same elevator. He didn't join in there conversation, opting to remain silent. He stayed in the back of the elevator as they tried to figure out what button lead to the floor with the mess hall. He knew little of these other freelancers and at the moment didn't so much as care to learn much else about them, he wasn't entirely sure what to make of them really yet, unlike when he had been a part of a team as an ODST. Though it started the same, him not wishing to interact all that much, he had grown to think of them as nearly family, brothers really. Unfortunately they had died while he had survived but stubbornness and his rash nature of not following orders always.

Lizzy smiled at Illinois' slip and reached out to punch the level 7 button. She glanced from behind the safety of her visor at Montana, but the man didn't seem intent on making conversation or putting himself out to meet his peers. Lizzy wasn't one to step on toes if she could help it, but his silent presence in the elevator did make things a bit awkward in her mind.

"You'll have to start paying attention, Illinois. We're going to be here for quite a while; I didn't hear anything about washing out of the program, so, unless we really flop on our fitness tests, we're going to be calling this place home. I bet he knows his way around the ship already." She gestured at their silent cohort with a thumb, willing to go out on a limb since it worked into the conversation. Her weight shifted to one leg, and she rested a hand on her jutting hip. Her voice, however, was hesitantly inquisitive. "Don't you? I'm sorry; I still haven't matched all the designations to the helmets, yet. Are you Montana or Alaska?"

Lizzy wouldn't call herself overly outgoing, but she had always been the cheerful one of the bunch and her relationship with her ODST squad had helped her develop a confidence in starting interactions with strangers. You never knew if you didn't try was a tenant she was brought up on and one she still put stock in, even now. Besides, she figured that one should always make an attempt to get to know who one was working with. Better relationships meant more effective ops, if nothing else.

Again, doubts born of the Director's speech drifted to the surface of Lizzy's mind. He had implied they would be given missions based on the level of their skills, not the skills themselves. Every unit looked for the best, but when you had already gathered the best... what kind of ranking system could you possibly expect to have? The solutions her mind came up with left her feeling decidedly uneasy.

Zaccar looked at the freelancer who spoke at him, going by the helmet he guess she was Massachusetts."I'm Montana," he answered ",and yes I do have a decent idea how to get around the ship. If I'm not mistaken you would be Massachusetts." He was somewhat glad to talk, though he was never one to start up a conversation so easily, at least now it gave him a chance to learn a little bit more of his fellow freelancers.

With a laugh, Donovan responded to Massachusetts. "Luckily, I'm a better soldier than navigator," But the thought lingered in his head. He'd have to do better if he was to carry he weight on the Mother of Invention. Montana clearly knew where he was going. Donovan resolved to pay more attention. As he continued down the hall, Donovan's thoughts turned to the upcoming tests. "What could they be? he wondered to himself, "Will it be a general test? Or will it be specialized for each person? I can't imagine it will be anything extreme so early in the project,"

"Yessir, that'd be me," Lizzy agreed cheerfully, glad that the stoic, quiet man had actually responded to her and in a way that invited further talk. Soldiers were like anyone else; it was hit or miss when you were looking for someone friendly. "Nice to meet you, Montana. I don't suppose you're the tracker of this batch of recruits?"

The elevator came to a stop on the floor with the mess and Lizzy followed her fellow freelancers off, holding the door open as she turned back to Montana and tilted her head invitingly. "We're about to grab some food. Would you like to join us?"

((Apologies on the lack of length; I want to move us along, rather than hanging out in the elevator. ;) ))

"Guess so," he answered ",and sure, I was heading in the same direction anyways so might as well get to know everyone else like you guys have been doing. Also please don't call me sir, call me anything but sir." His father had always wanted to be called sir, it had nearly driven Zaccar insane having to, compared to other kids it seemed in his childhood, his relationship with his parents was a rather strained one, perhaps even nonexistent. When he had gotten older he decided he never wanted to hear the word sir again as long as he lived, at least not be called it.

Iowa had followed the other freelancers, though he was being strangely quiet. He was thinking. Thinking about the tests. How will I do? he thinks, I'll do fine, I hope. After all, I've come this far. That thought made him grin. James had one thing that would help him. The will to go on.
He followed really close to the others, still not saying a word. All he needed to do was think, think about what he would do in certain situations, and think about how to crack that damn holographic lock that FILSS had challenged him with a day or two ago. It was like his parents, always presenting him with new challenges.
I wonder how my parents are doing. I wonder if they are still well, living happily together. A single tear came down James' eye, but he quickly wiped it away.

Donovan gave another smile, this time to the freelancer in white. He spoke to Montana. "Welcome to the party! I'm Donovan, or Illinois. I'm an explosives expert. What do you do Montana?" He continued down the hall with the group, and approached the door to the mess hall. He quickly opened the door, and went immediately to the serving line. He flashed a winning smile at the server, and spoke, "Good morning! Your finest filet mignon and lobster please! And some for my friends as well," He gestured back to the group.

"All right," Lizzy agreed easily. Technically, none of them were of a higher rank than the others, so not using sir wouldn't complicate anything. It had been a passing remark on her part, in fact, and one she hadn't even noticed until he mentioned it. Through the protective visor of her helmet, she watched Montana as the steadily growing group crossed to the mess hall and got in line for food, but put it aside as a quirk. For her, it was enough that he had decided to join them, and she'd been told in her time that she had quirks of her own. For a moment, she missed her ODST squad terribly.

Donovan's suddenly boisterous tone shook her from her thoughts, and she shook her head at him. He was certainly going to be the loudest of the group, and, as Lizzy picked up a tray from the start of the line, she figured it would probably stay that way.

The server just stared at Donovan for a long moment, ladle in one hand, before he replied. "Uh, sorry, sir. The choices are hamburger, chicken salad wrap, or mac 'n cheese. What would you like?"

Lizzy nudged Donovan's arm and handed him a tray so he would have something to put his plates on. "Mac and cheese, please."

She waited for the server to set the plate on her tray, then followed Donovan down the line, grabbing sides as she went and ending with a small bowl of what looked like apple crisp. On her way past the drink machine, the blue-armored freelancer nudged the button for a bottle of water and took that with her as well. The table situation was easy; the nearest table became their place for the duration of the meal as Lizzy slid into a seat. It never really mattered to her where she sat, so long as she had someone to eat with.

The starting bruises on her back ached faintly as she sat, reminding her that she had never exactly finished her practice earlier. With tests announced for the next day, she doubted she would have the opportunity either. Even with a small group of freelancers, there were bound to be others queued up to use the training room to prepare. Lizzy reached up to unfasten her helmet; it would be a relief to get it off. As soon as it was clear of her head, she set it on the table beside her tray and shook her head slightly to relieve the feeling of compacted hair.

Better.

She glanced up and gave her compatriots a quick, but friendly smile as she picked up her silverware. "So, where were you all recruited?"

"I'm infantry and recon," Zac replied to Donovan before they reached the cafeteria. Once given the menu of the cafeteria, Zac grabbed a tray sliding in line with the others in the group. He took two of the hamburgers and then went down the line grabbing a few sides: an apple crisp, some fries, and some odd dish he couldn't figure out what it was but it was worth a shot to try it and not be picky about it. He then grabbed a bottle of water and joining Lizzy and Donovan at the table they chose not caring for the sitting arrangement. He set his helmet down next to him, before digging into the first hamburger. It wasn't that great but it wasn't terrible either at least, that was a plus.

He was quite taken a back from Lizzy's appearance, he had expected perhaps someone slightly older, when she took her helmet off."I was taken from the ODST program," he answered her question ",Don't see what they see in me but there must be something so guess I'll roll with the punches for awhile." He never did understand why he got into the Freelancer Program, he was disobedient to commands at times, though he usually got the mission done, had a hard head, and a rather big issue with taking orders from superiors that he did not like. Perhaps it was because he could get the job done even on his own they chose him, anyways it didn't matter now, he was there and he had to show that he was worth the effort of bringing into the program.