Training Time

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TennyoCeres84
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Training Time

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The days since the defeat of Gawain and the rise of Hope's newest defenders were growing shorter. Leaves turned to their brilliant, jewel-like tones and drifted to the ground. Holden Hall was increasingly being renovated into a headquarters befitting burgeoning superheroes. Friendships between the youngsters and their mentors were being built and strengthened. Even while keeping an eye out for the Grecian mastermind behind the still fairly recent upheaval, other cases were being tended to. Awakening supes had to be taught in their newfound abilities. Of course, Three and his friends spent a considerable amount of time honing their powers.

Neasa and Aislinn had the luxury of remaining at Holden Hall to focus their respective talents of super strength and telekinesis. Their brother Ciaran did not have that option. There was only one other person on Earth who could help him learn the ins and outs of being unseen and using it to his advantage: Nigel Griffin. It made him feel slightly lonely at missing out training with the others. Honestly, though? He figured the gift(?) of invisibility was a lonely one to start with. The roane mused that was how the head of GrifSec felt in his early days.

Ciaran headed into the large building and went to where he always knew to meet Nigel: the Gauntlet. He was grateful for the man's tutelage, but he still had doubts in his particular ability. He considered his sisters to be lucky as they had been given tactile powers, while his power dealt with the non-tactile. However, he didn't complain. He hoped he would come to see the full benefits of his invisibility at some point in the future.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Training Time

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The Gauntlet wore its name rather well.

A warehouse-sized void occupying an isolated set of three floors beneath Griffin Securities' utilities, it was a bit of everything to Nigel Griffin, the Voice. The walls were lead-lined and reinforced, its power source was autonomous from the city's grid, and it held everything a former cat burglar of international reputation could possibly require in order to plot future hits, hone his skills or simply stay off the radar for any given period of time. It was tough to enter, difficult to leave and designed to test the mind and body of whomsoever would be self-assured or brazen enough to request a few training rounds in its confines.

To Ciaran, the Gauntlet would currently take the form of a long and reasonably well-lit corridor, its floors covered in deceptive black linoleum and the walls done with a simple and stark white paint job. Slender pillars went down the length of the room, leading up to the all-purpose McGuffin that was used in lieu and place of priceless artifacts. The Mark, as Nigel had called it, was a simple cube of Plexiglas, about the size of a Rubik's Cube, and was laden with programmable sensors that could enable Nigel to turn it into a trap switch, a heat sensor or a movement detector. Stories had it that Nigel even trained under the simulated stress of a ticking time bomb, as a few extra bits of hardware could turn the Mark into a time-based score-kill switch. If it went off, metaphorically speaking, the Gauntlet logged his attempt as a loss.

It was, quite simply, the priciest and most sophisticated exerciser to have ever been built. Not only that, but it currently seemed to have been set on a decidedly easy combination of parameters: behind and above Ciaran waited the Nest, where Nigel's computing equipment waited. One of the screens was big enough to be seen from everywhere within the Gauntlet and primly displayed the words 'Difficulty: Novice'.

A voice soon resonated in those sophisticated quarters, one which Ciaran would only have grown familiar with thanks to old news reels and documentaries. It was a little gravelly and a little nasal, the kind of vocal cords that would've shown a bit of a seaside British twang just over a generation ago. Still, it was laced through with plenty of casual cheer, like old age and lasting youthfulness melding to create something potent.

"Ah, Ciaran!" lightly exclaimed the Voice, currently only visible as a hovering smoking jacket cinched at the waist, along with a pair of sunglasses. Matching flip-flops followed along the floor as the most likely knee-length garment stuck intangible hands inside its front pockets and made its way down.

"I'll admit, my boy, that I've been wholeheartedly looking forward to this. You have no idea how refreshing it feels to consider that there might be another name on my leaderboards, in just a few short months. Just as I'm honored to take up your training, I'm honestly relishing the idea of this old man's best times eventually being challenged."

As he'd come down, he'd fished a pair of white cotton gloves out of the same front pockets and had slipped them on, mostly so Ciaran would have something to look at, while going for a handshake.

"Welcome to the Gauntlet," he then added, on a slightly more private tone. "I haven't had the pleasure of sharing this place with that many people, before. Quite in fact, you'd be the first."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Training Time

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Ciaran smiled with a bit of sheepishness and shook his hand. "Thank you, sir. I'm honored to be your student." He frowned thoughtfully and raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing nobody else has been here due to security purposes?" he inquired, then smiling humorously. "Or more like this is your personal man cave?"
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Re: Training Time

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The jacket's shoulders shook. "A bit from Column A, a bit from Column B," he replied, a tiny bit of laughter lending more color to his already light dispositions.

He turned and sighed contentedly, giving the large room a once-over. "This is forty years of hard work, Ciaran, and millions of dollars pushed through shell corporations. I can test-drive any security system concept I could possibly devise, down here, or secretly work on circumventing the work my best engineers come up with. It's ungrateful and not entirely original - but it keeps me nimble and alert. This is where I can geek out to my heart's content, more or less."

The Voice shrugged lightly. "Although, I'm not sure geeking out describes the kind of gymnastics I've had to keep up with... You're headed down a difficult path, son - electronic countermeasures, prefabricated wards and quad pirouettes all leading up to whatever you want this to be," he said, gesturing to the Mark.

"The Mona Lisa, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, apocryphal paintings by the greats or maybe some Ecuadorian drug lord's personal stash of riches... Or the cure for cancer, if you're feeling altruistic. You'll have to stretch, run, lift and push harder than a Navy SEAL, and brush up on all those little niggles my own engineers, as decorated as they may be, keep forgetting. You'll have to make yourself physically infallible while being able to capitalize on human error as it manifests in everyone else around you. It's a difficult proposition, and it would be one for anyone."

Even though his face couldn't be seen, it was almost a sure bet that he was smiling. "I'm not expecting you to succeed at anything, mind you. I only want your best efforts. You'll learn much more out of your failures or your initially poor scoreboards than out of any potential perfect round you might negotiate a few months or years from now."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Training Time

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His smile softened slightly as he nodded. "Of course, Mr. Griffin. I'll definitely give it my best," he answered.
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Re: Training Time

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The sunglasses bobbed and a gloved hand briefly clasped his shoulder. "Good. Today, however; I'd like you to proceed on the assumption that you have no powers to speak of, that the opportunity for a quick cash-in is right before your eyes, and that your target isn't all too gifted with foresight..." he said, his voice again suggesting a smirk or a smile of some kind.

"Imagine that this is part of a museum wing and that you've been hired to claim the Mark. This is is a small museum, maybe smaller than Anastasius' gallery in terms of reputation, so there's really nothing other than a single guard to block your way to your objective..."

In so saying, he dug into his smoking jacket again, this time pulling out the kind of uniform-associated peaked cap you'd have expected Rent-a-Cops to wear. He stuck it on his head, cleared his throat, stepped forward while clasping his hands behind his back. "Everything outside of this corridor can be roleplayed or imagined at your convenience. All that matters is that I shouldn't be allowed to see you enter or leave with the Mark, and that in precisely ten seconds, I'll stop responding to any questions you might have.

Now find a position, and proceed as you would."

Griffin wandered further down the mock corridor, formlessly whistling and occasionally bending forwards a little, as if interested by something on either one of the two walls.
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Training Time

Post by TennyoCeres84 »

Setting his backpack aside, Ciaran likened the simulation to be like that of tag or hide-and-seek. He entered the Gauntlet, watching Security Guard Nigel mill about the corridor. The selkie padded quietly as possible down the corridor, breathing shallowly so as not to disturb the relatively quiet space. He had chosen to wear thinner soled shoes in comparison to his clunky, steel-toed boots. When Nigel looked the opposite direction of him, he turned the corner and went on his way.
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Re: Training Time

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Behind his Placid Guard facade, Nigel was taking notes. He couldn't turn his own instincts off, so he used them to monitor Ciaran while projecting airs of general obliviousness. It was easy enough for him to keep track of the selkie's position in the Gauntlet's currently offered space, and to act as though he couldn't track him. For now, in any case, all he wanted to see was if the young man had a grasp of the fundamentals of stealth.

He allowed McConmara to make it to the Mark, aware of the selkie's suddenly slightly increased tension. Like a kid who'd almost managed to abscond with a stolen cookie from the proverbial jar, the roane had tensed ever so slightly - perhaps without being aware of it. Nigel recognized that traitorous burst of exhileration for what it was, as it had caused him to almost bungle his first few attempts at B&E, in his younger days.

As Ciaran lifted the cube from its pedestal, however, the Voice broke character. "Relax," he said. "You haven't won until you've actually left the premises undetected. Keep your back loose, don't forget that some anthros can smell exhileration or satisfaction on humans and theriomorphs, and keep your mind as clear as possible. Making sure you're not too tense is the best way you have to indirectly control your pheromones and body temperature."

There was a brief pause. "It doesn't matter now, but forcing an economy of gestures on yourself is eventually going to help you control your body heat."
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Re: Training Time

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While his body language didn't really matter at this point in time, Ciaran's muscles relaxed. His excitement calmed, and he silently and calmly exhaled. Even with his momentary tension, he hoped he hadn't done too bad with his overall sneaking. Picking up the plexiglass cube, he still watched where Nigel was and made his quick and quiet getaway out of the Gauntlet.
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Re: Training Time

Post by IamLEAM1983 »

As soon as Ciaran left the confines of the simulated corridor, Nigel turned to face him and removed his cap.

"That was your first primer into the art of stealth," he explained. "Before weight distribution or temperature control, before misdirection or infiltration - you need to be able to marshal all those little impulses we let loose in everyday life. Giddiness and self-satisfaction are your enemies, your hypothalamus will inevitably betray you, and your own chemical soup will always strain to advertize to the entire world that you are, in fact, a thief. It's a difficult balancing act; keeping your temper in check to make sure you never rise past or dip below your rough thermal target, or to keep your pheromone cocktail at a minimum.

The only thing that allows you to steal without centering yourself is high-level acrobatics - and you're not quite there yet," he noted with a smirk. "Not getting caught at all should remain your priority until such time as you'll be able to dance around gun-toting goons and thoroughly mess with their heads. These two aspects are going to be fairly late-game lessons, obviously."
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