The brunette CO just reacted to Sarge with a look of utter confusion.
"Your speech is garbled, I don't understand a word you're saying, Recruit. Go back to the formation before I raise my voice again. And remove that helmet, while you're at it! Barring reasons of Life Support, there is no conceivable reason for you to be wearing that outside of combat! Do you require wearing that helmet to live, Recruit?"
At once Sarge snapped around to the other recruits. Being a soldier and not wearing armor, that was exactly the kind of mistake an officer who must be so young and inexperienced would make. But part of being young was making mistakes, and Sarge could not fault her for that.
In the meantime though, some recruit wasn't taking this seriously enough. Granted, Sarge could not actually see said recruit, but he knew with a scolding like that, disobedience was afoot.
"Thgirla, hcihw eno fo uoy ylil nekcil emils sgab thguoht esoht saw tsuj emos gnittink elcric taht uoy dluoc ylbman ylbmap tuoba revewoh uoy dekil? Saw ti eno fo uoy seulb? I ndluow't eb desirprus."
"I have orders to send you into one of the base's lecture rooms, but since we have quite a bit of time of spare for now, let's have a bit of meet and greet, shall we? First off, all of you shall formally start with the rank of Private, and will be promoted only if we feel you have earned it in this war. We've had too many fraudsters and liars in the Legionnaire ranks to trust you in former experience. That said, I will allow one or two people to be Platoon IC-"
"Meaning 'In Charge'." Hartmann said.
"-with the responsibility of leading, organising, motivating and speaking for the group in the absence of myself or any other relevant authorities. Now, who here thinks they can handle such a responsibility the best?"
If anyone were to raise they're hands and/or say that they're capable, Barkhorn would ask them to step in front of her and explain their reasoning why, before returning to their original positions.
Sarge turned back to his superior. "Am'ma, htiw lla eud tcepser, I ndluow't tsurt siht dnab fo sdaehteggun ot evah a aet ytrap. Fi uoy'd wolla em, I'll ekat dnammoc fo meht yllanosrep dna pihw meht otni epahs, Egras-elyts."
"Ralph Sjonovka, Regent Autumnal of the now defunct Freehold of The Watch, a position which mainly consisted of getting small groups with widely varying powers and mindsets pointed in the same direction. I do not think I am the best choice for command, though."
"<This unit supports its bonded pilot, Patricia Von Rohr. Early analysis indicates high levels of leadership and diplomacy skills, and evidence of combat skills are present.>"
Mindfull of what the new leaders said to the guy in red armor, Alliera removed her helmet and held it at her side. "I am Alliera Brightshield, retired: Paladin, Bard, Sorcerer, and Adventurer." Alliera said, looking at the girl that seemed to have been put in charge "I'll leave command to those who had training in it, my best experience in leadership is hearding Grandchildren around."
At once Sarge snapped around to the other recruits. Being a soldier and not wearing armor, that was exactly the kind of mistake an officer who must be so young and inexperienced would make. But part of being young was making mistakes, and Sarge could not fault her for that.
In the meantime though, some recruit wasn't taking this seriously enough. Granted, Sarge could not actually see said recruit, but he knew with a scolding like that, disobedience was afoot.
"Thgirla, hcihw eno fo uoy ylil nekcil emils sgab thguoht esoht saw tsuj emos gnittink elcric taht uoy dluoc ylbman ylbmap tuoba revewoh uoy dekil? Saw ti eno fo uoy seulb? I ndluow't eb desirprus."
Sarge turned back to his superior. "Am'ma, htiw lla eud tcepser, I ndluow't tsurt siht dnab fo sdaehteggun ot evah a aet ytrap. Fi uoy'd wolla em, I'll ekat dnammoc fo meht yllanosrep dna pihw meht otni epahs, Egras-elyts."
For a few moments, Barkhorn gave the red-clad man a level gaze for a few seconds, as if determining in her mind whether this act was intentional, or he really was this stupid.
Patricia stepped forward.
What is wrong with my brain today? Oh right, the other options are either horrible, or don't deserve the work being dumped on them.
"I volunteer, Ma'am. Patricia von Rohr, formerly Corporal in MSY-Governance Army Group Nile. I can handle the paperwork, Ma'am."
Titus stepped forward, clasping his fist to his chest in salute. Though accepting the possibility of others commanding him, he would not be doing his duty if he didn't volunteer his experience, lest the odd red armoured man somehow ended up in command.
"Brother Titus, Formerly Captain of the Ultramarines 2nd Company. I have experience in both planet-side and astral combat scenarios and have conducted recruitment on behalf of my chapter, in addition to my duties as Master of the Watch."
"Ah, yes, good, good. You two seem to be the most legit of this entire rabble. Very well. Patricia von Rohr and Titus..." she looked at the hulking man curiously. "Do you have a family name, Titus? Anyways, reserve that for later. But now, you two are both this platoon's ICs. Work together, okay? Now then, for the next order of business..."
Her arm then shot out and grabbed him by the throat. Growing the ears and tail of a German Wirehaired Pointer, she pulls on the man who calls himself Sarge with the same strength used to dual-wield carry MG42 mounted machine guns, as well as lift and throw whole I-Beams.
She pulls him close with her left hand, and jabs at his stomach with her right. "I was talking to you, Recruit... And I see that you call yourself 'Sarge'. Do you have a real name, hmm? Well, it doesn't matter, because whatever you were before, you aren't a Sergeant here. So from now on, I am going to address you as Private Dunghole. You will respond to Private Dunghole, and whatever forms you have to sign you will put Private Dunghole on it. Am I clear enough for you, Private Dunghole?"
The look Barkhorn gave him could kill kittens.
She then slowly turned her head to direct that look at the rest of the formation.
"As for the rest of you, for the failure to reign in your comrade's insubordination, DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME EIGHTY PUSHUPS! ALL OF YOU! ICs, synchronise and keep count."
She then turned back to the person formerly known as Sarge. She was still throttling him.
"As for you, Private Dunghole, remove everything except your underwear, right now. I asked you if you needed that suit for Life Support, and you said nothing. So I assume that's a No, yes?"
She let go of him, the glare on her face daring him to say otherwise.
All the while, Hartmann just stood in the backround, sighing.
For a few moments, Barkhorn gave the red-clad man a level gaze for a few seconds, as if determining in her mind whether this act was intentional, or he really was this stupid.
To that, she gave a little smile.
"Ah, yes, good, good. You two seem to be the most legit of this entire rabble. Very well. Patricia von Rohr and Titus..." she looked at the hulking man curiously. "Do you have a family name, Titus? Anyways, reserve that for later. But now, you two are both this platoon's ICs. Work together, okay? Now then, for the next order of business..."
Her arm then shot out and grabbed him by the throat. Growing the ears and tail of a German Wirehaired Pointer, she pulls on the man who calls himself Sarge with the same strength used to dual-wield carry MG42 mounted machine guns, as well as lift and throw whole I-Beams.
She pulls him close with her left hand, and jabs at his stomach with her right. "I was talking to you, Recruit... And I see that you call yourself 'Sarge'. Do you have a real name, hmm? Well, it doesn't matter, because whatever you were before, you aren't a Sergeant here. So from now on, I am going to address you as Private Dunghole. You will respond to Private Dunghole, and whatever forms you have to sign you will put Private Dunghole on it. Am I clear enough for you, Private Dunghole?"
The look Barkhorn gave him could kill kittens.
She then slowly turned her head to direct that look at the rest of the formation.
"As for the rest of you, for the failure to reign in your comrade's insubordination, DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME EIGHTY PUSHUPS! ALL OF YOU! ICs, synchronise and keep count."
She then turned back to the person formerly known as Sarge. She was still throttling him.
"As for you, Private Dunghole, remove everything except your underwear, right now. I asked you if you needed that suit for Life Support, and you said nothing. So I assume that's a No, yes?"
She let go of him, the glare on her face daring him to say otherwise.
All the while, Hartmann just stood in the backround, sighing.
Tipping his hat to the back of his head and leaning horizontally, the Sheriff prepared to begin pushups. He just hoped the stamina gained from running away from people trying to kill him would last him through 80 of the things. Who the hell made this psycho CO of anything?
Well, maybe she wasn't that bad, it was hard to tell from lack of experience. Still, the sooner she went off and returned to her own unit, the better as far as he was concerned.
As Emily began doing pushups, she started to regret not chiking Sarge into unconsciousness at the first opportunity. Maybe she would have an opportunity to ship him to somewhere else if this continued happening.
Chara snerked upon seeing he Lieutenant's ears as they floated down to the ground, materializing with a slight 'whump' and a discharge of magical energy. They made sure to put some distance between themselves and Titus: whatever the armored soldier was, he was making their skin crawl just from being near them.
Push-ups at least were something they were familiar with, even if they nowadays lacked muscles to get sore or physical stamina to become exhausted.
If they ran out of motive energy they would simply dematerialize.
For a few moments, Barkhorn gave the red-clad man a level gaze for a few seconds, as if determining in her mind whether this act was intentional, or he really was this stupid.
To that, she gave a little smile.
"Ah, yes, good, good. You two seem to be the most legit of this entire rabble. Very well. Patricia von Rohr and Titus..." she looked at the hulking man curiously. "Do you have a family name, Titus? Anyways, reserve that for later. But now, you two are both this platoon's ICs. Work together, okay? Now then, for the next order of business..."
Her arm then shot out and grabbed him by the throat. Growing the ears and tail of a German Wirehaired Pointer, she pulls on the man who calls himself Sarge with the same strength used to dual-wield carry MG42 mounted machine guns, as well as lift and throw whole I-Beams.
She pulls him close with her left hand, and jabs at his stomach with her right. "I was talking to you, Recruit... And I see that you call yourself 'Sarge'. Do you have a real name, hmm? Well, it doesn't matter, because whatever you were before, you aren't a Sergeant here. So from now on, I am going to address you as Private Dunghole. You will respond to Private Dunghole, and whatever forms you have to sign you will put Private Dunghole on it. Am I clear enough for you, Private Dunghole?"
The look Barkhorn gave him could kill kittens.
She then slowly turned her head to direct that look at the rest of the formation.
"As for the rest of you, for the failure to reign in your comrade's insubordination, DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME EIGHTY PUSHUPS! ALL OF YOU! ICs, synchronise and keep count."
She then turned back to the person formerly known as Sarge. She was still throttling him.
"As for you, Private Dunghole, remove everything except your underwear, right now. I asked you if you needed that suit for Life Support, and you said nothing. So I assume that's a No, yes?"
She let go of him, the glare on her face daring him to say otherwise.
All the while, Hartmann just stood in the backround, sighing.
Nostalgia for his time as an aspirant brought up fond memories of ambushing xenos back when he was a scout in the 10th company. The young girl-child might look inexperienced and a possible mutant, but at least she understood how to gently work the recruits into a formal training regime. Though personally he would have increased it a tad more. Settling himself against the ground, he began to aid Patricia in her counting, his vox broadcasting the count as his armour's servos whirred at his bodies motion, his augmented muscles long accustomed to the strain of his bulk.
Chara snerked upon seeing he Lieutenant's ears as they floated down to the ground, materializing with a slight 'whump' and a discharge of magical energy. They made sure to put some distance between themselves and Titus: whatever the armored soldier was, he was making their skin crawl just from being near them.
Push-ups at least were something they were familiar with, even if they nowadays lacked muscles to get sore or physical stamina to become exhausted.
If they ran out of motive energy they would simply dematerialize.
He was happy to notice the Daemon had taken to avoiding him. Now if he could just find a relic or some kind of living saint to banish it back to the hellscape of the warp, he'd be almost satisfied with his progress in bringing the team to the standards set by him on Terra.
Anna didn't move while the others set about their pushups.
"Excuse me, sir," she said softly to Gertrud. "It doesn't seem fair to punish all of us for the poor behaviour of this one person, whom we've never met till today. Moreover, he seems to be somewhat... mentally deficient. If you'll allow me to conduct an interview with him, I can make a preliminary diagnosis and refer him to psychiatric care, should that be available here."
For a few moments, Barkhorn gave the red-clad man a level gaze for a few seconds, as if determining in her mind whether this act was intentional, or he really was this stupid.
To that, she gave a little smile.
"Ah, yes, good, good. You two seem to be the most legit of this entire rabble. Very well. Patricia von Rohr and Titus..." she looked at the hulking man curiously. "Do you have a family name, Titus? Anyways, reserve that for later. But now, you two are both this platoon's ICs. Work together, okay? Now then, for the next order of business..."
Her arm then shot out and grabbed him by the throat. Growing the ears and tail of a German Wirehaired Pointer, she pulls on the man who calls himself Sarge with the same strength used to dual-wield carry MG42 mounted machine guns, as well as lift and throw whole I-Beams.
She pulls him close with her left hand, and jabs at his stomach with her right. "I was talking to you, Recruit... And I see that you call yourself 'Sarge'. Do you have a real name, hmm? Well, it doesn't matter, because whatever you were before, you aren't a Sergeant here. So from now on, I am going to address you as Private Dunghole. You will respond to Private Dunghole, and whatever forms you have to sign you will put Private Dunghole on it. Am I clear enough for you, Private Dunghole?"
The look Barkhorn gave him could kill kittens.
She then slowly turned her head to direct that look at the rest of the formation.
"As for the rest of you, for the failure to reign in your comrade's insubordination, DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME EIGHTY PUSHUPS! ALL OF YOU! ICs, synchronise and keep count."
She then turned back to the person formerly known as Sarge. She was still throttling him.
"As for you, Private Dunghole, remove everything except your underwear, right now. I asked you if you needed that suit for Life Support, and you said nothing. So I assume that's a No, yes?"
She let go of him, the glare on her face daring him to say otherwise.
All the while, Hartmann just stood in the backround, sighing.
This kind of abuse, this kind of derision, it was beautiful. For a while, Sarge had been really worried about the next generation, thinking a lack of appreciation of healthy competition via horrendous violence combined with a sense of general laziness would ruin them, but this display put those fears to rest. Indeed, Sarge thought it was worth leaving Blood Gulch just for this.
The whole 'human dog hybrid' thing was a little weird, but if the price of saving the younger generation was adding a little canine DNA to the genepool then that was a price Sarge was willing to pay.
It was equally nice that they would set up such an elaborate test for him to prove his skill as a Sergeant. Having to train as an equal in a unit compromised by the enemy? It would be an excellent demonstration of his skillset! Really, they shouldn't have!
Sarge saluted, before popping the seal on his helmet and removing it. "Understood ma'am." He turned back to the other members of his unit. "And if I catch any of you lugnuts skipping out on those push ups I'll make sure you'll be starting over from negative seven thousand!" Serves them right for harboring an insubordinate. Sarge thought as he began to strip out his armor.
'Eighty pushups?' Sandman thought to himself, with some slight horror. 'How are we expected to stay in shape if these people consider doing eighty pushups a punishment?' This is the kind of workout he did regularly, HAD to do regularly to keep himself at the top. Although he supposed he wasn't at the top anymore, the gorilla had that position. Either way, he dropped down and began doing push ups, smiling all the way, he had chosen to refrain from doing it one handed, that was just showing off. It was rather evident that he enjoyed exercise.
Ralph starts doing the pushups, matching the count under his breath. The purpose of this was to inflict pain, albeit small, on the entire group for the transgressions of a member of the group. Completely avoiding the pain would just lead to Flight Lieutenant Barkhorn inflicting escalating punishments until she felt that the entire group had been punished enough for both the original transgressions and the attempts to avoid the pain.
Zer0 briefly considered dropping a hologram with a looping push-up animation and just watching the rest, but decided against it. Negative seven thousand was a big (small?) number, after all. He took a moment to appreciate how much easier digistruct technology made things before he dropped down and got started.
Alliera sighed, and put her helmet on, before walking forward and out of the formation. "Let the man go." Alliera said, approaching the Commanding Officer and 'Sarge' "Stupidity is no excuse for such behavior." There was an underlying threat to Alliera's voice, a fire that felt like it had been blown out for a long time reignited. "I may be retired, but by oath and honor I am still a Paladin." Alliera said, not drawing her sword or shield but simply approaching "These volunteers are under my protection, you harm them, you deal with me."
Alliera sighed, and put her helmet on, before walking forward and out of the formation. "Let the man go." Alliera said, approaching the Commanding Officer and 'Sarge' "Stupidity is no excuse for such behavior." There was an underlying threat to Alliera's voice, a fire that felt like it had been blown out for a long time reignited. "I may be retired, but by oath and honor I am still a Paladin." Alliera said, not drawing her sword or shield but simply approaching "These volunteers are under my protection, you harm them, you deal with me."
Even more insubordination! Sarge may be stripped of his armor, but he was not going to let this stand. Sarge met the recruit's approach with his own.
"Did you not hear your superior's order, tin can? If you want to be eating dinner before tomorrow morning than you had better damn well be back in the formation and on the ground FIVE MINUTES AGO!"
Even more insubordination! Sarge may be stripped of his armor, but he was not going to let this stand. Sarge met the recruit's approach with his own.
"Did you not hear your superior's order, tin can? If you want to be eating dinner before tomorrow morning than you had better damn well be back in the formation and on the ground FIVE MINUTES AGO!"
Alliera gave the man an unimpressed look, visible through the visor, and walked around him. Alliera had bigger issues to deal with than a Mentally-Disabled masochist.
Alliera gave the man an unimpressed look, visible through the visor, and walked around him. Alliera had bigger issues to deal with a Mentally-Disabled masochist.
"You think this is some kind of a joke, maggot? I don't know how they do things here, but back in my army we'd have you strung up an' catapulted into the enemy base!" Or at least ya would have if command had accepted my request for a catapult. Damn budget cutbacks.
"You think this is some kind of a joke, maggot? I don't know how they do things here, but back in my army we'd have you strung up an' catapulted into the enemy base!" Or at least ya would have if command had accepted my request for a catapult. Damn budget cutbacks.
"I am a Paladin, that means I cannot let this keep happening to you, or let it happen to someone else if I can stop it." Alliera said simply, walking around Sarge again "This is abuse, and I WILL NOT sit by and watch it happen."
North Star lowered herself to the ground with almost comical gingerness.
-<Query, she was a weapon, did that make her exempt from physical training?>-
-<Return:negative, almost unanimous ally affirmation to (NorthStar /= weapon) recieved.>-
-<Counterpoint: NorthStar-class Titans posses no physical attributes that require training to utilize effectively. Training physically labeled redundant.>-
-<Return:Negative. Prior Labeling revised. Physical training in view of allies increases unit strength, therefore increasing combat effectiveness.>-
-<Query: Did NorthStar class Titan designation DC-2570 just attempt to excuse itself from PT?>-
-<Return: probably.>-
NorthStar cleared her query history, (an acceptable analogue to humans shaking their head to refocus, if she had to guess.) and focused at the task at hand.
Sure, her arms were much larger and stronger than her compatriots, but her mass was much greater as well. Throughout the excersise, her arms periodically fed her stress warning alerts, until she removed her railgun and placed it beside her.
At first, Northstars push-ups were erratic, jerky and much too fast. Through careful manipulation of servos and power though, as well as data gathered from her pilot, she was able to write a program that allowed her to complete the last 15 push-ups in perfect synch with her allies.
"I am a Paladin, that means I cannot let this keep happening to you, or let it happen to someone else if I can stop it." Alliera said simply, walking around Sarge again "This is abuse, and I WILL NOT sit by and watch it happen."
"I don't care if yer Geoffrey Rush's undergarments! Whatever you were before, you're a soldier now, and being a soldier means accepting punishment when ya break the rules! That's what separates the modern military from a pack of hippies!"
"I don't care if yer Geoffrey Rush's undergarments! Whatever you were before, you're a soldier now, and being a soldier means accepting punishment when ya break the rules! That's what separates the modern military from a pack of hippies!"
"<Acknowledged pilot.>"
North Star stops mid push-up, and the lack of the whir of her servos seems to cast a silence over the field.
Without looking up, NorthStar extends one arm, and slams her outstretched hand in between the two, creating a wall wedged nearly half a foot into the ground.
"<Ally Designation Alleria Brightshield. This unit requests you please begin doing PT as ordered. Your actions only harm us and yourself.>"
NorthStar looks up, her piercing blue optics burning into "sarges" unarmored form. Her words are like ice.
"<You->" she began "<Have done nothing but antagonize those designated as this units allies since your arrival. You have not yet gained such designation. Your actions qualify you for a hostile designation.>"
The Titans missile pods aligned threateningly. "<This unit suggests you cease all such actions. Failure to do so may result in irreparable injury to yourself. This unit suggests you begin you allotted PT as ordered by your superior officer.>"
