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RP: IPG [IPG Operators] (Insert Title Here)

Chandler allowed himself a final glance at the folder Lenz was holding, then moved to his seat.

That guy's fighting with something... I gotta figure out what it is, eventually.
 
Lenz held onto the folder rather protectively. He did not feel the need to share his concerns with his fellow initiates.... it was not the way he was raised. He sat impatiently for their debriefing but remained silent, composed and staring directly at Flins.
 
Athrylis, reluctantly, sat down on one of the beds. Her reluctance was founded in her beliefs in thinking that she'd become a burden with having to have someone fix it, or replace which seemed far more likely. Once more, she was needing someone's help and she didn't like it.

Initiate Adair knew she wasn't alone, at least, in needing to get a bit of help, as she thought to Cyrene. It was also somewhat Athrylis' fault that Cyrene needed help, since Athrylis hasn't gone to help when Cyrene requested it. It only aided in making Athrylis feel more useless, especially after Cyrene had basically saved her life at the start of the fire fight. Maybe she shouldn't have left home....
 
As the initiates got themselves situated, Flins walked to the front of the room.

"You've just completed your first mission. Congratulations. None of you were killed. Comendable." The Captain switched on the large TV behind him, which the IPG personnel had just finished hooking up. On the screen popped up the night's news report. "Unfortunately, as I stated earlier, the manner in which you did it was wholy unresponsible and could have led to far greater consequences, both to your lives and our organization, than resulted."

As Flins spoke, several medical officers milled about in the room. One approached Athrylis, and another Cyrene. The one near Athrylis whispered to her, "Initiate, would you prefer a replacement cybernetic or an organic?" The man indicated the stub that used to be Athrylis' arm. The other medic escorted Cyrene to a bed before leaving the room to fetch some extra medical/ repair equipment and some help.

"Now, as it stands, Commodore Raleigh is immensely displeased, although, all things considered, you did better than the majority of the teams as far as coming back in one piece," Flins continued, eschewing that about 1/5 of the Initiates that left on their first missions didn't come back, "And while your work tonight no doubt benefitted the Imperium, it is time to move on to the next step, and tomorrow morning you will begin weapons familiarization and fighting simulation courses. Until then, please make yourself at home as your comrades receive medical attention. Initiate Langford, I would like to speak with you outside, as well."

The captain left through the open door of the room, waiting for Alaster as several men brought in several trays of sliced vegetables, some cubed meat and cheese, and water bottles.
 
Lenz hurriedly left the room for the hallway, holding the folder tightly in his organic hand. He was concerned that with his anxiousness, he'd crush it in his cybernetic one. He looked for any place that'd offer him some privacy from prying eyes.
 
Cyrene sighed quietly as she lay perfectly still on the bed, resting her arms on her stomach. Medical facilities were a confusing place to be in for the cyborg, as both her most terrible and happiest memories had occurred in this sort of facility. Her thoughts were still heavily focused on the missions.

"At least... it was a relative success, and I was the most damaged of our team. Considering that no one is out of commission, I think I can live with this." She pondered to herself, awaiting the medic's return.
 
Lenz found his way to the hospital's single occupancy bathroom and quickly locked the door behind him as he finally opened the folder. His eyes went wide and his entire body trembled as he looked through the file's contents in a mixture of disgust and disbelief. His hands shook so hard that he tore the papers in half.

He couldn't stop shaking as the folder fell from his hands to the floor. His jaw clenched as he bitterly slammed his organic fist into the wall of the bathroom. "FUCK!" His eyes watered as he felt the crunching of his knuckles against the steel reinforced concrete of the wall.

His nerves protested as he slammed his fist again into the wall as he tried to vent some of his rage against the newest development against something not organic. He wanted to kill someone and their training was done for the day. He was left without an appropriate outlet and his father had ill prepared him for such instances.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved his lighter as he picked up the shattered and torn contents of the folder. He set the papers on fire and dropped the burning contents into the metal sink. He watched the papers burn with a grim satisfaction that once he caught the bastards, he'd get the chance to show them the true meaning of agony.
 
Athrylis listened to the debrief given by Captain Flins, before she turned to the medical officer that had approached. She barely paused in thinking through the answer to the medic's question. "Cybernetic, if you would be so inclined."

She looked curiously at the trays of food the people carried in. Though it didn't look great, it still looked inviting. It's to be expected for military meals. Oh well, food was food.
 
Chandler was passed out in the briefing room, asleep in his chair. Obviously, he wasn't going anywhere fast. Anyone who wanted to get past him would have to go around, or wake him up- a nigh impossible task for even the loudest of people.
 
Alaster listened to Flins as he spoke, silently taking both the little praise, and the subtle verbal beating. When the captain mentioned his name, and left the room, the Initiate got to his feet.

Steeling himself for whatever was to come, Alaster walked out of the room heading outside to meet Flins. When he'd arrived, he stood rigid, at attention.

"Reporting as ordered sir." He said in a neutral tone of voice. Eyes out, back straight, hands at his sides. The standard military 'at attention' stance.
 
After listening to Flins give their post-mission...whatever that was, Nel was about to just sit and eat to recover what energy she had used that night. But then Lenz got up and left. Without being dismissed. And he looked...upset. Her curiosity piqued (and recognizing an opportunity to sample human emotional patterns) Nelew got up from her seat after Flins and Alaster had left the room, passing them in the hall as she went after Lenz. She followed him to the restroom and stopped outside of the door, listening to see what he was doing.

Why was he upset? He had mentioned his sister as a cause of his irritability earlier during the mealtime. And Flins had handed him a folder, which caused his irritability to spike again. So...

The thump of Lenz's fist on the bathroom wall shook Nel out of her pondering and she tilted her head a little before knocking lightly with two raps on the door, then stepping back as she waited for a reply.
 
"Can't a man take a shit in peace!? What?" Lenz growled irritably even though it wasn't what he was actually doing. He seemed satisfied with how the paper had burned and blew the small fire out before turning on the sink.
 
Bits of smoke, carried by normal air currents, spread out around the restroom. But none of them escaped through the door, since the air venting system in the restrooms was of the heavy-duty variety...they had to be, to deal with ID-SOL 'methane leaks'.

Outside, Nel didn't answer. Studying his voice for a moment, she concluded that now probably wasn't the best time to inquire, not if she wanted accurate information. And the heat spike in the bathroom also didn't bode well...so she set off back toward the makeshift de-briefing room.
 
Lenz stared at the door as the person outside left him alone. He shook his head and ran some warm water over his bruised knuckles, wincing slightly at the stinging sensation. I'll have to get my hand looked at. This is pathetic though, I'm stuck here. I just better hurry up and get through this crap. If they are able to get updates, she's still alive...

After a few more minutes, the short initiate finished his business in the bathroom and properly cleaned up after himself.
 
Flins looked down at Alaster. "Allow me to get to the point, Initiate: Do you believe fully in your abilities to lead this group?" The Captain didn't look up as the medical personnel headed into the debriefing room with a number of devices intended to fix people up.

As the medics entered the room again, most of them made a beeline for Cyrene, while two went to Athrylis' side. The two near Athrylis lifted a case, popped it open, and pulled out several tools, including a tape measure, some odd-looking cutting tool, and a datapad. "Do you have any preferred materials for the arm's construction, or capabilities?"

Meanwhile, the men that went to Cyrene began setting up their equipment. One hooked an IV filled with blue liquid into her arm. "Miss Veles, would you prefer anesthesia or no?" Asked one of the medics, who was busy setting various cutting tools on a tray.
 
"Sir, no commander should fully believe themselves capable." Alaster answered back, still standing at attention. "However sir, our mission, while it did not go as planned was a success. I believe we all need to be able to familiarize ourselves with each other to form an effective unit. I daresay sir we were working as complete strangers which we very much are."
 
Athrylis nodded slightly. "If possible, I would appreciate if you could make the arm the same as before, if you please," she replied. The initiate wondered how much this would hurt, if at all. The only time anything was really done to her cybernetics was when they were installed, excluding maintenance since then. When they were installed, she was rather... drugged out of her mind, since she had lost four limbs.
 
Flins focused his lens on Alaster, the eye imposed on his cybernetic growing slightly smaller. "I believe there is truth in that statement, Initiate." He thought for a moment. "How long do you believe it will take to familiarize yourselves with one another? An estimate?"

"Weeks to months perhaps. Back in my marine days a lot less due to sheer danger we were put in sir." Alaster replied, his hands clasped behind his back, feet spread apart. "I believe we are getting to know each other more so now after this mission. Seeing their actions, listening to their responses gave me some insight."

"Sheer danger helped you bond with your fellow marines?" Flins personally agreed. He had, after all, been in such situations his entire life. "We have some events scheduled for after this round of training. Perhaps they will help with that." Flins produced a piece of paper from his pocket. "This," he held it up for Alaster to see, "is a statement from your former commanding officer. Care to know what it says, Initiate?"

"If you would be so kind sir, yes sir I would." Alaster said politely.

"'Capable, intelligent, enjoys some good beer,'" Flins looked down at the document again. "It goes on in that way for a while. The overall point of it, however, is quite simple. By the standards of the Star Military's Marine Corps, you are leadership material," The eye focused on Alaster again, "Now, of course, the ever-cliche question is whether you're leadership material for the IPG."

Alaster felt a small surge of pride well up within as Flins said these things. He had tried to be capable, more of a thinker, and more careful after what had happened to him. And tried to impart some of that into his squad mates. "Sir, we can only find out if I am or not through action. I do not trust myself, nor am I arrogant enough to say yes or no."

Flins almost let a smile cross his lips. He lowered the paper before folding it once more, and allowing it to disappear into his pockets. "Very well, Initiate. Do you have any questions?"

"Sir, just two. What do you think of this situation? And when do we begin?" Alaster asked, looking up at the taller man.

"We'll begin tomorrow morning. And which situation, Initiate?" The Captain was certainly aware of several.

"The one regarding me sir." Alaster replied, standing a little more rigid."We did not perform as well as hoped for."

Flins looked to the ground for a moment. "Indeed you did not." He returned his gaze to the Initiate."However, you are not the only one who did not perform to expectations. We will be addressing that soon. But, as things stand, you're still capable, and you will still serve as squad leader."

Alaster nodded curtly. "Sir, yes sir." He said. "What do we do now Captain?"

"Rest, and wait while your fellow Initiates receive medical attention. As stated, training regiment one begins tomorrow." Flins replied. "You are dismissed, Initiate."

"Yes sir." Alaster said, and snapping off a crisp salute before turning on his heel, and making his way back into the medical facility.
 
Nel arrived back at the briefing room and sat down in the seat she had chosen when she came in the first time. Looking around, the initiate watched the repairs being done on Cyrene and Athrylis.
 
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