Wasted ammunition

[t0l]

A certain mister Ravis stood leaning against one of the many ornate pillars inside of Chateau d'Or, arms crossed over his slick, black synthetic jacket as he slowly panned his head from side to side, taking in all the new, interesting sights and sounds of this strange place. His good buddy Jasper Kincaid, another contractor who he'd served with on both Sprague and Sydney for probably a year, maybe more now, had probably put it best: Tal had somehow managed to shittalk his way on the Neural Net into an exclusive contract with Sydney's provisional governor herself, getting a free loaner ship, free lodging, extra base pay, and hot meals for however long it'd take for him to train one individual. Indeed, it was all a bit of a shock, especially considering how fast his arrangements had been made, and the somewhat scrawny, disheveled-looking military contractor dressed in an outdoorsman's jacket and a pair of high-cut combat pants gave off the impression that he'd been plucked straight out of a warzone, contrasting wildly with his newfound environment and the well-dressed civil servants carrying out their provisional duties on this fine autumn day.

Sighing, he eyeballed his watch, wondering how long he'd been standing around waiting. Having been a longtime resident of the forward operating base at Port Jackson, he leapt at the opportunity to relocate, even if only temporarily, and so had made the trip over to the Chateau far ahead of schedule, not faulting his new protege for being as late as they seemed to be. Besides, the downtime gave him a few moments to sit back and plan out their regimen, which would likely focus on basic weapon handling and practical applications for self defense. The Captain had alluded to something more akin to a BAF basic training course, but he figured most of what constituted "basic" training for a house military was wholly unnecessary and ultimately, a waste of time and effort for them both. Hopefully she wasn't too much of a fast learner, though. He could get used to living in a place like this.

Surprised was he, then, when someone approached him from behind, sneaking up right next to him before speaking. Immediately, he tightened up his posture, pushing his body off the pillar and turning to face the strange woman--wait, was this the person he was supposed to train? She knew him by name, somehow, something that most of the nameless, faceless denizens of this villa wouldn't ever have to bother with, but she didn't exactly look like much. Definitely not the type to be molded into some kind of high-speed, low-drag killer, but whatever. If he had to roll with it, he'd roll with it.

First, he raised a hand once she finished speaking, trying to stop her from going further. "I'm a contractor employed in an advisory role, you don't have to maintain formalities around me. Just, call me Tal." He didn't bother to mention the forty-five standard Sirian minutes he'd been waiting for, since it looked like she was having enough trouble existing as it was. "I showed up early so we could get started faster, you didn't need to bring anything except yourself. Come on, let's go hit the range and get this show on the road."

He nodded his head down the hall, unfolding his arms and starting off in the general direction of where he thought the range was. Chateau d'Or was something of a maze in of itself, even with all the signs detailing different locations, and so all he could was hope he was headed in the right direction. Oh, and one more thing.

"Don't salute me, either. I work for a living."

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