[IC] Nightmares

[BigPapaBelial]

There are certain constants when there is war.

One of those constants is always the problem of their being spies and double agents. The United Front knew this. And thought the Nightmare Protocol is known far and wide, even by the enemy, the enemy did not know where they were based.

The United Front created several bases. Decoy bases and real bases alike. All created to mask the presence and location of the Nightmares.

Here now we find ourselves at Mount Gios Vulpes, a now extinct volcano, into which has been built one of the bases housing the Nightmares. Here, three squads call this home inbetween missions. These squads being only three of so far eighteen squads. These are the Nightmares, currently, the greatest hope for the United Front.

---

"Attention, The Monorail will be arriving in 3 minutes. Please step back from the yellow line and please wait until all have disembarked before embarking."

John snapped awake as he heard this annoucement. He'd been shipped out here to Gios Vulpes after his enhancement and training had been completed. He blinked and automatically rubbed his eyes, even with them unable to feel tired since they were replaced almost a year ago, he still did something automatically. Rubbing his eyes when he felt tired is one thing. Rolling his shoulders when he is feeling tired. All those things were still automatic. Despite having had his eye replaced, losing the ability to feel them get tired. Or feeling tension in his shoulders since they were replaced almost up to his neck. These are still things he did despite becoming a Nightmare.

As the monorail coasted into the hidden station he got to his feet easily, barely noticing the movement of the train, while others on it were struggling to keep their balance his augmetics made it so he had perfect balance. He grabbed his duffle bag, and his kit bag and slung them across his shoulders. As he made his way towards the door those who were already waiting moved aside. Unspoken agreement that the Nightmare should be able to get off first running through them all. Honestly John felt just a little embarrassed about that.

As he got off the monorail he stepped out of the way of everyone getting on and off. Towering over almost all of them. Gios Vulpes, he's be meeting his squadmates here. And forming Squad N3. He pondered if he was the first or last one here. Only one way to find out.

He adjusted his bags on his shoulders, then proceeded over to one of the conveyor walkways, which would take him to the base proper. Dug right into the old magma chamber of the dead volcano. Tons upon tons of basalt having been dugout to create a sprawling hidden base. He hadn't even known it existed when he was going through training and hadn't even known when he was still a politician. Places like this existed all over the United Front, places where the Nightmares and other units were housed. Hidden from the Faithful and The Word.

John looked up sharply as the conveyor walkway brought him out into the open area within the volcano. He looked up, seeing the huge bank of lights near the peak of the volcano mouth, which provided a semblance of normal day and night light for the base. He looked down through the glass of the walkway walls. Training fields, exercise areas, outdoor meeting areas. And dozens of buildings dotted the floor of the large open area. His new home.

As the walkway changed into an escalator he started to pick his way down, passing others on the walkway, he's home. May as well get down there, find his squads barracks and see who else is here.

[Lord Wyron]

'Air flowing, dust particles in the air, casual breathing; oxygen goes in, carbon dioxide comes out. Hearts beating, fingers tapping, eyes blinking. So. Loud.'

Cade visibly seemed to wince as the noises in his environment blared in his ears, catching the attention of a few onlookers (who promptly looked away after noticing who he was). Clenching his synthetic hand, a distinct whirring sound accompanying the motion as servos locked, 'joints' moved into place, squeezing hard. Had he still organic arms, he would feel a slight ache arise from the pressure...but now it was like he felt almost nothing. The Nightmare Protocol ensured that pain would be a passing nuisance, and thus limited how much he could feel. Never had he wished for pain as much as he did right now.

Inclining his head downward, Cade shut his eyes tightly in an attempt to clear away the noises, but they just wouldn't leave...too much. 'Focus...must focus...make the world smaller.' Cade told himself inwardly, echoing the words that were given to him by the United Front's military psychologist upon awakening from surgery. New implants, heightened senses....overload.

Now trying to take control of his own head, Cade struggled desperately to focus, choosing to look at his hands clasped together...silver, steel plated, unreal Focusing as much attention as he could, Cade felt the noises slowly began to fade away into the recesses of his mind. It would take a few days to adjust, he was told. But he would adjust. He just hoped it would be soon.

The others on the train remained deathly silent, fearful that saying something could perhaps anger the Nightmare. Sure, they were notified of Squad N3's formation beforehand, and went through a course on a Nightmare's psychology and behavior, that they were no different from regular humans....but that was a lot of shit to swallow. How could one look upon a 'man', half-made of metal and say he was 'no different'? Before them wasn't a man...but a masked monster, whose cold eyes bored holes into their defenses, cold, artificial eyes.

Soon the train lurched to a halt, rattling on the track slightly as personnel and soldier alike moved into action to keep their equipment from falling. Except Cade, who sat as still as a statue, slowly rising to his feet to gather his equipment.

The rest of the passengers awaited silently, watching with expressions of curiosity, fear, and wariness as Cade slowly made his way off the car and into the main body of the base...Gios Vulpes.

Stepping onto the conveyor walkway, Cade hoisted his duffle bag over his shoulder, not even regarding the weight of the bag as he did so; his augmentations too strong to even register this as weight.

As soon as the conveyor stopped, Cade stepped off, taking a few moments to look around his surroundings before once again reading the directions to the barracks that were part of the manual implanted into his brain. They stored information in him like a flash drive, the alterations to his brain synchronizing with his prosthetic eyes to give him a HUD-like display when he needed...felt like a damn first-person shooter. Nevertheless, Cade didn't seem to react, aside from the still-narrowing of his eyes; those passing by unsure if it was pain, anger, or tension....perhaps all three.

Stepping into the elevator to the barracks, Cade closed his eyes, and waited for the journey to be over...

[Hawlin]

Green, dim outline...green, dim outline...teal, light outline; Got somewhere you need to be? The monorail only goes so fast, sir.
The man shifted his weight between his legs as they frequently glanced at their watch. The lighter outline highlighted the inconsistency in the crowd, the slight blue tinge hinting to mild stress. Slowly, the highlight faded as members of the crowd also took on slight blue hues, more so than the first man. With a blink, color returned to the world and we were pulling up to the station. The figures of the crowd rapidly gaining features as the vision settings resumed rendering in standard mode; many of them were stealing glances at me as it donned on me that I had been staring, again, putting the congregation at unease. As far as Nightmares went, I wasn't that imposing. However, the mask from which the light pink wisps of hydrogen byproduct from the tank of flavored coolant I had been enjoying during the ride sometime put people off. Gas masks tend to carry the connotation of danger of a rather unsettling type and I didn't really need it, but the coolant boosters help me relax. I'm not a fan of crowds...or people for that matter. Especially when they look at me like that...
Gawd I needed this redeployment.

Redeployment...

I couldn't get off of the monorail fast enough, toting my bags over my shoulders. Their combined weight would have been staggering for me before the incident. Now? I could juggle this shit if I wasn't personally invested in maintaining the functioning and in-tact qualities of their contents that I had come to like about them so very very much.

The idea of a base operating out of a dead volcano was fascinating. "Geos Vulpes"
It was already a fortress in concept, and to be loaded with Nightmares to boot? It astonished me how the war wasn't already over, but I suppose an idea like the faith is a tricky thing to stomp out, especially when the verminous faithful breed like bacteria.

There may never be a shortage of the mind-slaves that make up the body of this Ouroboros serpent which holds the world in its grip.

Hrm...

Gawd I love watermelon...
"...Good gawd, Kass! He was just a kid!"
"I know"
"Kids shouldn't die like that..."
"......I know."

I shook my head of the voices, the onboard assistance trying to simulate my thoughts as I thought of my first day back in the field. It had a knife...and surprisingly fragile limbs.
I thoughtfully look down at my free hand while riding the walkway. It was strange to be detached from sensations beyond diagnostic readouts. It made me a bit more thankful for the work put into my new tongue. I miss bubblegum, but taking a deep breath reassures me that I'll survive.
I stop the door to the elevator to the barracks with a leg, the steel doors clicking with a metallic hollowness on my shell before letting me in. Silently, I take my place next to the only other passenger. Before I could reach the pannel, I noticed the button to the floor of my destination had already been pressed; the man may very well be a member of the squad. He seemed agitated, though. Perhaps in some sort of discomfort from new augments? It happened enough to be expected; I've been there too...maybe not wherever he was, but relearning to function on the very basic level wasn't the best, either.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soft 'Kehhshhh...' of each of Jack's breaths, accompanied by small boiling sounds from inside their chest and the operation of the elevator were all the noise other than what Cade made. The doll-looking passable android stood otherwise motionless, perfectly balanced in their stance with the large bags still hoisted over their shoulder. The sound Jack made cut out for a few seconds before they broke the silence with a muffled, "N3?"

[BigPapaBelial]

John made his way off the alternate way down to the base. And looked about curiously, tapping into the extensive set of maps, schematics and contractor's sketches for the base. His squad would be housed in Barracks building C9, near the PT field. He looked through the maps, figured out where he is, then started in the direction he thought the barracks are supposed to be in.

Down a sidewalk he went, picking his way along carefully. Stepping out of the way of soldiers and base staff, getting odd looks every time he does so as the people he stepped around or out of the way for, immediately stopped in their tracks and watched the heavily modified post human soldier as he walked off. The general news that the Nightmare Protocol is up and running and the first twelve squads are being formed up, has already gone out. But people actually seeing them is something else. He saw it in passing as he walked, but didn't pay it too much mind. The military psychologist he had talked to for several months after coming out of augmentation had said people like him would be seen as freaks for awhile. The Nightmares would be seen as something inhuman for awhile. And it'd take them a little while to be considered part of society again. Looks and hushed whispers would be part of life for awhile until everyone is accepted.

Until then John was okay with getting stared at. The simple fact is, he decided to make this change. And become what he is now. For all these people who stared and whispered.

Finally John made his way out from between two large pre-fab buildings. And found himself looking out at the huge open area that made up the Physical Training field. Two hundred meters by two hundred meters of carefully set down artificial turf. And enough room for several squads of flesh and blood soldiers to do their thing. He wondered if the Nightmare squads would end up using it, they would need to keep their flesh parts healthy, but their augmetics wouldn't need it at all.

As he stood there for a moment he watched some unaugmented soldiers running laps, and he had to smile a little. He could never have done what he's doing now, if he had volunteered for the regular army. He'd never have made it as a regular soldier at all. Deep in thought he didn't see some of the soldiers pointing at him, some of them murmuring about how they thought they didn't need these enhanced beasts in any shape or form. Some of them began to form a small mob. And moving across the field towards the currently lone Nightmare. Some just wanted to see one of these guys up close. Several others wanted to see if they could turn this tall beast of a man into their bitch, turn one of these half machines into a base wide joke.

John didn't notice their approach until they were within the ten meters of him.

He did everything his training told him to do. He dropped his bags to his sides. And sent out a wireless call for help to any nearby Nightmare units. Better to fight as one then fight alone. That's what the training had told him. Next his eyes and ears quickly catalogued all he saw. All of the soldiers are unarmed, they were all strong and powerful men, but nothing compared to him, they weren't Faithful, they weren't there to kill him. He dialed back the power in his limbs, if it did come to a fight he wouldn't be breaking arms with a touch. He again sent out another pulse asking for assistance, tagging onto it that he's in squad N3 and would love if his squadmates were to show up and help him.

What clenched John's worry though is when one of the soldiers calls out to him as the soldier rubs his hands together, "Hey Tin Can, what the hell are you doing here?" John almost felt like he could feel his circuitry popping. He hadn't thought being called a Tin Can would tick him off so much, Aggression protocols in his central control node starting to fire off. John had to grit his teeth to try and keep the rage boiling up in him, rage that is supposed to be only for Faithful soldiers, from overflowing. He looked at the soldier, the poor guy being labeled as the small twenty man mobs leader. John tried his best not to let his anger show in his voice, "I've been stationed here soldier. Just like you. Just like everyone who's here to fight Faithful." Another soldier snorted and called out, "Fuck that Tinny. We don't need you freaks here." And all John could think of for a few brief moments, was the correct position he needed to cant his left wrist at to pop that super sharp combat knife out from his wrist.

He tried to look around, hoping against hope his squad mates would show up soon to pull him out of this.

[Lord Wyron]

Cade's eyes slowly opened as his ears picked up the voice of the person next to him. The simple word 'N3' seemed to bounce off the walls and reverberate inside the claustrophobic elevator, causing him to wince sharply as unbridled feedback pierced its way into his mind, his entire vision seeming to warp and deform in front of him for a few moments.

He instinctively shot out his right arm to support himself inside the elevator, but managed to make a nice-sized dent in the steel wall as he was unaware of his own strength. Cade made no sound as he waited for the terrible reaction to pass, finally regaining his composure as soon as he felt 'normal' again (normal being a loose term).

"Yes....N3." Cade replied simply, trying to brush off his initial reaction to the sound. His voice was slightly muffled from the muzzle-like mask he wore, but he was far from unintelligible. His unnaturally blue eyes seemed to contract, not dissimilar to a camera lens focusing on a target as he got a better look at his fellow occupant in the elevator. From her...his...it's words, he deduced that he/she/it was also part of his squad, a Nightmare. Maybe he/she/it could sympathize...give him someone who understood the torment he was going through.

"Kincaid Washington." He introduced himself in a plain tone, slowly holding out his hand to shake, a slight clicking noise accompanying the movements of extending fingers.

Before the formal introduction could occur however, the elevator slid to a sound stop, a compact hissing sounded as the doors slid open into the main body of the base. Cade turned his head to look out, quite honestly impressed at the sheer amount of advancement the United Front put into this place. Even before becoming a Nightmare, advanced technologies were everywhere...but this was truly a marvel of engineering.

Before he could continue his thoughts, however, a distinct pulse came from a communicator all Nightmares were issued upon deployment. Gently procuring the object from his pocket (for fear of shattering it to dust), Cade took one look at the screen before wordlessly heading off in a random direction - towards the PT field.

Standing at least a hundred meters away from the field, Cade could see what appeared to be a small mob of un-augmented soldiers ganging up on who was, perhaps, his third and last squadmate...the only words to describe the man in 'front' of him would be a titan. Six-and-a-half feet tall at least and covered from head-to-toe in thick plated armor, Cade could only cite training as the reason this Nightmare chose to contact his squadmates as opposed to taking on the mob himself, a feat which he looked quite capable of.

"Hm...Unfortunate." He said to himself before dropping his bags to the ground,

Approaching the field at a slow pace, Cade decided he'd try and put his training to use. Remain wordless, let your eyes speak, never reveal your full face, dehumanize yourself, become the Nightmare.
~~~
A distinct whirring noise of steel and circuitry signaled Cade's approach as he walked up behind his comrade. He took the first few moments to look between the members of the mob, quickly putting a face to a name thanks to the database that was nicely implanted into his head. Even when he was out of sight he heard the names they threw at his squadmate, 'tin can', 'freak', amongst others. Still silent, Cade tried hard to visibly hide the anguish he was experiencing at the moment. Faces warbling, mixing in-between each other, sounds coming to him as if he were underwater, tinnitus ringing in his ears and never stopping.

Despite the pain, his visage remained one of cold determination, apathetic anger. He stared into the apparent leader of the group, not even bothering to regard his squadmate at the moment. He let his presence do the talking, like a predatory animal scaring scavengers away from its territory.

[Hawlin]

I watched him writhe, poorly hiding it from me. To cause that level of reverberation, someone should be fired. Who would expect a nightmare to fight in such pitiful condition?
I play off like I didn't notice him put a dent into the wall from retaliation against the sound, alone; throw cars, hear someone blink in the next room over...it sounded like a raw deal after reciting it in my head, but what could 'enough' of a brain and a heart do? For the knight's sake, I pretended I didn't notice his outburst as I drew in a long sigh of what the nanites and receptors told my senses was watermelon as he replied. I figured, his words and an expertly-timed sigh wouldn't make much difference by how he had wavered. Still, I figured I should at least be polite.

"Ha.....Ja-...ehrm, Kass...Kass will do..." I quietly go on with the indecision laden in my tone, watching him before muttering "Kaz, if you can..." as the wall gave way to a window overlooking the training area. Soldiers who had already been about their doings seemed to be gathering around another figure who suddenly felt familiar as a surge of a signal on distress links tagged him on my hug in a dull gold.

The entire corps couldn't be made out of nightmares...I could associate it all to 'jealousy', but I guess it was something other than that which made the members of the mob pulse with a dull crimson hue. It was apparently beyond anything that could be explained; Sir Kincaid was the first to step out and I dropped my bags with him as I stuffed my hands into my pockets. I suppose I would be more threatening if I had more than a hooded coat and stockings to work with, but I guess it was the lack of knocking which molded the real image.

I exhale deeply as I approach, feeding back into the mask and blowing a thick pink steam from the mask as I took my place next to my 'N3 in need'. "Lest your mind, which had been taken by the faith, rejects; we are of the same team..." I bark with challenge in my tone, folding my arms behind my back as I take an authoritative stance. I was loath to get into a speech about how I had once been in their shoes, it seemed pandering and inappropriate in diffusing the situation. "The Word grows louder by the moment, and here you sit yelling amongst yourselves" My words extended to the total, unsure how much my squadmate had contributed to the rabble-rousery. I wasn't a veteran anything; a guardsman-turned nightmare, I was capable of both, though proficient with neither. All I had was a fistful of experience with dying and a year of physical therapy and combat reassessment. The feeling returned as I looked out at the small crowd of 'norms'; their eyes, judging and peeling us apart with the slightest of glance. No clue what even makes me speak...they hate it, they don't understand it...maybe they want it? If only they knew what it costs.

The safest solution would be to distance ourselves. I didn't have much to say about or to the soldiers, I wouldn't tell them how to think or how anyone should see them. I just wanted the looks to stop; I'm not a female soldier. Yes I am up to the task, the frame was made that way...no...its the only version that synced. Yes I know that...no-I...!?

People...

[BigPapaBelial]

John let out a relieved sigh. The second pulse had been successful. His squad mates, his potential future friends, had arrived. They were coming. He looked up at the small mob, “Tinny…freak…tin man…has the Word taken you? We’re on the same side. Just merely another evolution of combat soldier.” Facing three enhanced soldiers seemed to take the wind out of the mobs sails. One of them they could have gotten in a rush, but three, even if it was almost 2 on 1 now, they didn’t like their chances. They stared at the three. Hearing their words, and feeling far less sure of themselves now. They looked at the trio of Nightmares, and soon it came to them, that they are very much out matched. Even their numbers could not let them hold up against the three enhanced soldiers. John spoke up again, “My drill sergeant once told me…that there always one in a group that’s the leader…who is it? Why don’t you take a run at us, that will show us who your closest supporters are…the rest…will run…always how it works…” At that, most of the group seemed to come to the idea that it isn’t worth getting a court martial out of this, or time in the MP jail. Leaving just two soldiers, shouting at the rest of them to get back there and help them. But soon, they leave too. Looking back at the trio angrily.

John sighed softly then turned to look at the two other Nightmares, being this close to them, he could feel the wireless signals they are putting out, connects to maps, databanks, all manner of things. Just like himself. He nodded, “Well…are we all here for the same reason? Squad N3 then?” He pulled the helmet he had been given off and blinked a few times, to get his eyes used to the artificial light from above, “John Faceur, formerly the winning vote in getting all of this started. And now, just another artificially enhanced grunt.” He smiled a little, “Pleased to meet you both, and who do I have the honor of meeting and working with?” He looked between the pair of them, “And where’s your bags? I didn’t make you drop them somewhere when I sent out that distress call did I?”

[Hawlin]

I stood resolute as the mob petered out, realizing that they could only get away with what there were no witnesses to. None of them counted, the many would only pervert the words of the few, if left to their devices. One of them watched me as they walked off...for what...hrmm
~~~~~~
The otherwise refined frame of the nightmare operative whirred strangely as they reached up to their mask. "Hm?" The commented, the soldier hesitating as 'Kess' pulled their mask off. "Like what you see~?" she coos; their face turned away from the other two as what looked like plates of their face flew to the sides in a cross split. A violent sheering and grinding noise sending a few sparks in their direction causing them to stumble and utter an audiable "Holy- oh geez-!" before running off ahead of the others, slightly, steeling glances back, once. The face plates snap back into place.
~~~~~~
On that note, I close my recording log I had been taking of the event before signing and submitting it to editing in the time it took for me to turn to face the one who would be-

The Late Halavan Jack

'Jack' stood at 5'7 and was known for their 'lucky' bomber jacket (lost in the blast) and a gas mask which had been modified to serve as a coms hub, blast shield and a gas mask believe it or not. The request for the mask came in response to workplace harassment for Jack's otherwise feminine appearance. It is also the supposed reason there was enough of Jack to salvage. The new 'Nox' frame is arguably an upgrade; at the very least, providing options for dealing with such disrespect.

"John Faceur..." My tone laced with an ill-deserved familiarity, having never been formally acquainted as I extended a hand to shake, replying while taking off my mask, "I imagine I have quite a bit of thanks to give you, then, vote winner. The records have me as Halavan Jack. I go by 'Kess', now..." I say, I had spent quantities of time during my recovery reading my profile; Detailing the damage leading to a 93% reconstruction of my self. Taking a look at my squad mates, I figured it was a standard of being a nightmare.
A bit here and there, and I bet they may look human...heh...

[Lord Wyron]

Cade kept his solid glare fixed until the entire mob had dispersed, either back to their duties or training. He took a few moments scoping out for anymore potential agitators before finally cocking his head upwards towards his titanic squadmate, outwardly ignoring the admittedly unsettling facial cybernetics of his other comrade. Perhaps the inducement of fear was a spiel given not only to him?

Cade held a single hand out for John to shake after 'Kess' did, the sounds of the metal plates that made up his arm shifting and adjusting piercing the slightly awkward silence between introductions.

"Washington. Kincaid Washington." Cade introduced himself professionally, offering a respectful, if slightly curt nod of greeting and deference. "Your name is known to me, Sir. Sundowner's provided protection for your cabinet...in the past." Cade added on, his speech dotted by strange pauses between certain words in no discernible pattern.

"I was assigned to Squad N3 less than a standard week ago. I see the personnel here are quite welcoming." He observed aloud, his eyes scanning the environment around him. His words, perhaps, were stylized to be a joke; but his cool tone seemed to contradict the notion.

"As for my bags, they're simply up a few dozen yards." He put in quickly, cocking his head slightly towards the direction he had come from, apparently unworried about the state of his gear.

He once again seemed to wince, however, as his ears picked up the sounds of the environment around him; the noises of footsteps on the steel floors, various staff members conversing, and the creaks and groans of the facility constantly registering in his head. 'Damned implants...' he thought to himself, his eyes displaying only a small amount of the pain he was experiencing, though he did his best to hide it - more thankful than ever for the mask that hid over half his face.

Eventually overcoming the reverberations, Cade heaved out a small sigh before speaking once again, "I suggest we find our quarters shortly, before we attract any more attention." Cade proposed, clasping both hands behind his back, ignoring the sound of the metal plates locking together to signal the task's success.

[BigPapaBelial]

John smiled shaking the hands of the two other Nightmares, and tried to ignore when the sensors in his hand detailed the amount of steel, plexiglass, and circuitry in the other hands. He had to take a moment before replying and look at his own hand, he really isn’t sure what ot make of that at the moment, knowing it might come in handy later. But all the things his new limbs and senses could do are still overwhelming. He could tell it’s the same with his squadmates in various ways. It’d likely take them all awhile to truly get used to their new abilities. He waited politely by his bags, for the others to return with theirs.

While they were returning be went looking for that map again he had been using, bringing the overlay up over his vision again, and working to relocate the place they needed to go. By the time they had returned he had oriented himself. And without really realizing it had started trying to create wireless connections to the other two people. Attempting to share what he had found. He could sense six others like them, but none of them registered as squad N3. Though it’d be easy enough, or so his database told him, to set up connections with the other six, he didn’t feel the need too.

By the time his squadmates rejoined him he had already found their barracks on the map, and was starting to make his way there. He didn’t expect them to fall in line or anything, he wasn’t there leader. But he did hope they had gotten the information packet he had tried to unconsciously send with the location.

John opened the door to the barracks and stepped inside. Something was off. He moved further in, finding himself in a hallway, where were the beds? The small door leading into a lavatory, the kit storage room? He had done some research on military barracks, this was abnormal. He went to one of the three doors along the hallway and opened it, finding a surprisingly spacious room for one, with bed, desk, a small heater and a bookcase even. As well as a large heavy two door locker and a wardrobe. He turned to look at the others, “They gave us a whole building and separate rooms? Is this the same for all the Nightmares I wonder?” He dropped his bags beside the door then slipped back out into the hallway heading to the far end. There he found a large lounge like area, with a television and a computer tucked into a corner. A sense of ownership already going through him, “Guess this is home.” He thought outloud.

[Lord Wyron]

Cade remained mostly silent as he followed behind John like a loyal hound, carrying both his bags in each hand. Frankly he couldn't wait to get a good feel of the weaponry he was issued. Even before becoming a Nightmare pistols had always been his specialty, and with his new augmentations, Cade could only imagine the accuracy and firepower he would be capable of.

His thoughts became distracted, however, as his mind buzzed with new information being sent to him from John. Like downloading an entire packet of documents directly into his brain, Cade was both amazed and slightly frightened. Would he become so efficient that he lost his touch with humanity? It didn't matter how much metal they grafted onto his flesh, or implants they stashed away in his brain, his soul was still human - he had to hold onto that, or risk losing himself.

As the trio entered the barracks, Cade relished in the lack of activity going on, no constant movement or noise to disturb his implants, just himself and his two companions. Cade was unable or unwilling to hide a heavy sigh of relief as, for the first time in some days, he felt normal...well, as normal as he could be. There were restless nights during training where his mind would think this was all a dream; that he were still back home, whole, and warm. But then he would wake up again and realize that such thoughts were allowed only in dreams. There was no going back.

The worst part about his implants aside from the terrible feedback was how alien they felt. The United Front went to great lengths to try and recreate as much original feeling as possible...but one can't recreate something so precise as an actual human hand, they can only scratch the surface. Everything Cade felt was dull: texture and consistency were nearly an impossibility to him. Pain was almost nonexistent, as were small sensations...what he felt the most from his prosthetics, perhaps, was simply how cold they were; cold and heavy. He would have most likely been slouching constantly had it not been for counterweights and other implants inside of him, augmenting his muscular and skeletal system to adapt to the cybernetics.

Each footstep was heavy, as though there were twenty pound weights strapped to each foot every time he moved. He felt as though he had to will his arms to move as opposed to natural reflexes. His ears picked up every sound around him for yards, and his eyes sometimes wouldn't adjust properly, flashing bright lights in front of him or causing him migraines when synchronizing between his eyes and his brain.

Now getting a good idea of his surroundings, Cade quickly got to work getting adjusted to the barrack layouts, quite pleased at the comfortable furnishings they were given. No wonder the other soldiers weren't pleased to see them.

"This will do." Cade commented aloud, preferring to hide his true thoughts, not speak them. Ever since he became a Nightmare, speaking had become more of a nuisance than a necessity. What was the point of speaking when he could share information with his comrades in seconds? Words merely prolonged the job, lacked efficiency.

Wordlessly, Cade headed to one of the three rooms, silently claiming it as his own as he put his bags down on the admittedly comfy looking bed, letting out a small sigh as he slowly pulled his mask off his face, staring at it for a few moments before letting it drop onto the bed.

[Hawlin]

I rubbed my face as I followed the two. I couldn't imagine the purpose for the grinder; it seemed cruel and excessive...and I'm glad I couldn't taste, per se. What use would it have other than to brutalize something as an example, or was that the point? If so, my questions went to the designing staff. They of they Faith may be dogs in peoples' clothing, but rabid dogs get put down, not butchered.
I shook the thought, a strange smell of rotting meat being lightly simulated as I had accidentally started daydreaming while following the two. I pressed the mask to my face with one hand and a sigh as I slung the bags over my shoulder with my free hand. Getting a headstart, I pulled up a layout of our barracks...and doublechecking to make sure I had the right floor. Separate rooms?
My vitals peaked for a moment as my concern was alleviated; we were nightmares, but I was still overly cautious of my appearance. Still, I doubt the servicewomen were entitled to such privacy. No sooner had we entered the barracks then did Sir Cade 'claim' one of the rooms for himself. There was enough rooms, so I saw no harm in hotpatching the subnote for one of the rooms to show up as 'Kess's Quarters'. I watched as Cade trundled off to his respective room which mine sat coincidentally next to. There weren't that many, maybe four or five, but then again, how many nightmares did it take to form a squad? We were each at least fifteen men strong in our own right, with modifications capable to have the eyes and ears of almost as many. I didn't know how the others ate...or in my case, if they ate, but if we proved effective, we could easily replace the cost of raising, training and outfitting a platoon. With our number of 3, we could move with hundredths less of a risk and strike with ten times the force at unsuspecting points.

From a military standpoint, we were a nightmare.
I guess it took me until now as I set my bags on the floor and threw my body onto the bed that I did reflect on the name. The comforts of the bedding were lost to me, although from how my gyroscopic rebalance read, I could tell the bed must be quite comfortable...at least more so than the glorified cots that I had frequented not even a year ago. Stable, at least...I ignored the statistics of impact resistance and optimal falling height to rely upon the padding for a safe landing.

~~~~~

They sighed, digging out an alarm clock and haphazardly tossing it onto the floor next to the bed, dumping the bag to the other side to conclude 'unpacking'. The bag otherwise contained flavored mask filters, two spare sets of clothes depending on the situation and a large attaché case which supposedly held the components of their weapon.