After standing to his feet, staggering slightly at the action of slipping around, being tossed around by mechanical humanoids and retaliating with fire, the all clear was alarmed throughout the facility, indicating that the exercise was indeed over. He took a long, deep breath to signify his relief. As much as he enjoyed shooting large robots in the head, it didn't make sense to him. In fact, it was worth ranting about, but far too many Agents had already made way for the exit before he had a chance to find the perfect dispute partner. It was saddening slightly. Iowa was quickly left as one of the, if not the, last agents still lurking around waiting for something to do.
They'd all left quickly, and so, he stood there. He wasn't sure of what to do, but as he began to walk slowly towards the exit, he began to talk aloud to himself. It was not a loud yell, more like a quiet ramble to himself. Though many could mistake it for a conversation with his AI, it wasn't to begin with. Iowa found comfort in talking to himself sometimes, as it allowed him to hear what he sounded like. If he knew what he sounded like, he could judge whether or not his idea sounded like absolute shit or like a cake-walk.
"I mean...Robots...Fucking, large and inhumane robots. Why train against robots when we're an Anti-Terrorist sorta unit? We fight against individuals with individual skills. Sure, a robot can adapt to my own fighting style, or anyone's really, but a human has their own style. And someone with their own style is used to an advantage. And we are less likely to face someone who literally tanks around like a Mantis Bipedal Mech than a man who has a nuclear detonation trigger in his fingertips."
His AI, Sigma, was quick to intervene. It was good at doing that, giving him that extra bit of information and talking ethic to keep him going from becoming a solitary, anxious young man.
"Agent Iowa, might I inform you of your more...outcastish behaviour? You don't look comfortable. Perhaps I should introduce you to the department of relaxation. Or possibly a comrade to talk to? I believe that you should get to know your working partners as soon as po-"
"If they wanted to get to know me, they would've walked up to me to start it. Everyone knows I'm terrible at getting straight into the talking." He walked along, DMR hooked onto his back and handguns onto his leg holsters. He was liking the new armour, quickly. "And what about pretty-boy Agent Washington? Director calls him in...I bet he's some prodigy to the team, or something..."
His mumble was low, and moderate. If there was one thing Iowa had picked up about his opinions of war was that heroes weren't something that could be given so easily. If the director was going to praise a single, capital-state named agent and expect everyone to look up towards them as a war-hero, then Iowa might as well be sticking his head up Wash's ass. A hero was a target in the big-game that was war, and having such a notoriety from both your enemies and friends was just a set-up for targeting or betrayal.Sure, he was more skilled than Iowa. Everyone was probably more skilled than Iowa. All of them had elite military training, or at least most of them. And those who didn't fought in major, suicidal situations on a weekly basis to conflict the threats of terrorists, insurrectionists and the almighty Covenant. Iowa, on the other hand, was just a boy brought up by a rebellious group. It was only in the last few weeks of their existence that had Iowa picked up a familiarity with conventional tactics, but they only led to the critical defeat that had Iowa captured in the first place. It was still a mystery why someone of his background, skill, ability and mindset was selected for such an important organisation and project.
He continued to walk, turning his head slightly to the small pairs of joyous, serious, jokey and regular agents converse between one another. No one was free, or not engaged in a conversation. Perfect reason to repel Iowa from his own introduction. None of these people wanted to know him, did they?
He slid in as one of the last ones to enter the room. Luckily, the meeting hadn't started. It wasn't overly crowded, as a small crew had been handpicked for this mission. It was awkward, to some extent. Iowa found himself in a room of people he'd accidentally knocked over during the training exercise. Perhaps they made more use of their time than Iowa had. But at the front, of course, was the Director's little angel, Washington. He heard his introduction. And of course...He was the team leader. It was inevitable, but he had to go along with it. There wasn't any options for making enemies within his only chance of survival.
Iowa folded his arms and tucked himself at the back of the pack, listening to his words. Insurgents...And what he'd be doing. Obviously, the distraction would be up to him. But he'd have to make an agreement with whoever Utah was. Agent Utah could be someone of his type, seeing as they'd been selected to run a task that naturally screams unconventional distractions. Plus, someone who likes to blow stuff up for the sake of catching attention is always a good person. Washington asked if there were any questions, and quickly, Iowa was the first to respond.
"Yeah, I have a few...First of all, can we have some information on who these insurgents are, as an organisation? I'd rather know who we're killing than being blindly asked to fire at someone. Secondly, a distraction? You want me to make a noise? Make an explosion? Make a trap? Do a lil' switcheroo with someone's lunch? Dress up as a woman and seduce them like a bad film? I'd prefer the second and third option, or am I being limited? And thirdly...Do we all get a chance at playing Leader or is it always a Follow Mr. Washing Machine from now on?"
Humour had been used to cover up some of his concerns. If they weren't going to do the distraction in a proper way, something he knew he was an expert in, and possibly Utah was as well if he knew who they were, then it might as well not happen. They couldn't cause too much damage, but they couldn't cause too little. More to the point, who were they going to shoot? Iowa had always had concerns about hunting insurrectionists. One day...One day they'd be going after who he had been brought up within. He needed to make sure...He needed to make sure...
They'd all left quickly, and so, he stood there. He wasn't sure of what to do, but as he began to walk slowly towards the exit, he began to talk aloud to himself. It was not a loud yell, more like a quiet ramble to himself. Though many could mistake it for a conversation with his AI, it wasn't to begin with. Iowa found comfort in talking to himself sometimes, as it allowed him to hear what he sounded like. If he knew what he sounded like, he could judge whether or not his idea sounded like absolute shit or like a cake-walk.
"I mean...Robots...Fucking, large and inhumane robots. Why train against robots when we're an Anti-Terrorist sorta unit? We fight against individuals with individual skills. Sure, a robot can adapt to my own fighting style, or anyone's really, but a human has their own style. And someone with their own style is used to an advantage. And we are less likely to face someone who literally tanks around like a Mantis Bipedal Mech than a man who has a nuclear detonation trigger in his fingertips."
His AI, Sigma, was quick to intervene. It was good at doing that, giving him that extra bit of information and talking ethic to keep him going from becoming a solitary, anxious young man.
"Agent Iowa, might I inform you of your more...outcastish behaviour? You don't look comfortable. Perhaps I should introduce you to the department of relaxation. Or possibly a comrade to talk to? I believe that you should get to know your working partners as soon as po-"
"If they wanted to get to know me, they would've walked up to me to start it. Everyone knows I'm terrible at getting straight into the talking." He walked along, DMR hooked onto his back and handguns onto his leg holsters. He was liking the new armour, quickly. "And what about pretty-boy Agent Washington? Director calls him in...I bet he's some prodigy to the team, or something..."
His mumble was low, and moderate. If there was one thing Iowa had picked up about his opinions of war was that heroes weren't something that could be given so easily. If the director was going to praise a single, capital-state named agent and expect everyone to look up towards them as a war-hero, then Iowa might as well be sticking his head up Wash's ass. A hero was a target in the big-game that was war, and having such a notoriety from both your enemies and friends was just a set-up for targeting or betrayal.Sure, he was more skilled than Iowa. Everyone was probably more skilled than Iowa. All of them had elite military training, or at least most of them. And those who didn't fought in major, suicidal situations on a weekly basis to conflict the threats of terrorists, insurrectionists and the almighty Covenant. Iowa, on the other hand, was just a boy brought up by a rebellious group. It was only in the last few weeks of their existence that had Iowa picked up a familiarity with conventional tactics, but they only led to the critical defeat that had Iowa captured in the first place. It was still a mystery why someone of his background, skill, ability and mindset was selected for such an important organisation and project.
He continued to walk, turning his head slightly to the small pairs of joyous, serious, jokey and regular agents converse between one another. No one was free, or not engaged in a conversation. Perfect reason to repel Iowa from his own introduction. None of these people wanted to know him, did they?
>The briefing room...
He slid in as one of the last ones to enter the room. Luckily, the meeting hadn't started. It wasn't overly crowded, as a small crew had been handpicked for this mission. It was awkward, to some extent. Iowa found himself in a room of people he'd accidentally knocked over during the training exercise. Perhaps they made more use of their time than Iowa had. But at the front, of course, was the Director's little angel, Washington. He heard his introduction. And of course...He was the team leader. It was inevitable, but he had to go along with it. There wasn't any options for making enemies within his only chance of survival.
Iowa folded his arms and tucked himself at the back of the pack, listening to his words. Insurgents...And what he'd be doing. Obviously, the distraction would be up to him. But he'd have to make an agreement with whoever Utah was. Agent Utah could be someone of his type, seeing as they'd been selected to run a task that naturally screams unconventional distractions. Plus, someone who likes to blow stuff up for the sake of catching attention is always a good person. Washington asked if there were any questions, and quickly, Iowa was the first to respond.
"Yeah, I have a few...First of all, can we have some information on who these insurgents are, as an organisation? I'd rather know who we're killing than being blindly asked to fire at someone. Secondly, a distraction? You want me to make a noise? Make an explosion? Make a trap? Do a lil' switcheroo with someone's lunch? Dress up as a woman and seduce them like a bad film? I'd prefer the second and third option, or am I being limited? And thirdly...Do we all get a chance at playing Leader or is it always a Follow Mr. Washing Machine from now on?"
Humour had been used to cover up some of his concerns. If they weren't going to do the distraction in a proper way, something he knew he was an expert in, and possibly Utah was as well if he knew who they were, then it might as well not happen. They couldn't cause too much damage, but they couldn't cause too little. More to the point, who were they going to shoot? Iowa had always had concerns about hunting insurrectionists. One day...One day they'd be going after who he had been brought up within. He needed to make sure...He needed to make sure...