October 2nd, 2287, UNPC universal calendar.
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The BAD-AP bark of the unsuppressed Kriss V-06's two round burst resonated through the aircraft hangar, punching two 7.62mm holes in the paper target.
A9, the 282 year old series A augment was moving swiftly from room to room, left to right, clearing the training complex as easy as if it was breathing.
"Amazing" he heard one of the people in the box above mutter, a newer lieutenant if he remembered correctly, the sensors of his helmet able to pick up speech even through 5 inches of bulletproof glass.
Truthfully, A9 hated this cycle, a "we need to make sure you still know it" revolution of tests and training. "Why did I volunteer to be an augment again? Oh, right, I remember now, it was a plead as I lay there on the stretcher bleeding out staring at a man wearing the same armor I am" he thought, sweeping from left to right, right to left, clearing rooms, putting holes in paper, taking empty mags out, placing them in his dump pouch on his right hip, and slamming a new one into the rifle, and switching shoulders when needed to expose as little of himself as possible to the "enemy" in the rooms.
All things he's done a million and one times.
A9 reached the end of the maze like training course, standing in the 5'x5' box marked on the floor with blue tape, just near the door with the red "exit " sign above it, he removed his helmet, his HUD disappearing automatically.
The observers above in the glass box mounted from the rafters in the center of the hangar, packed full with monitors, sensors, and everything needed to evaluate someone as they made their way through the course had seemed pleased, clacking away on their keyboards.
He stood, waiting, for what seemed like 10 minutes, probably only seconds.
Right after A9 considered checking his Wrist Mounted Display's (WMD) chronometer display, a "you may leave" came over the intercom system.
Assholes, making me stand around with my cock in my hand A9 thought, turning on his heels.
In no less than 5 steps, he crossed the threshold of the outer door of the hangar, ducking under the opening, "I've probably hit my forehead on every door frame in this instillation by now" he thought.
His 6'8'' frame didn't fair well to average sized accommodations made for "normal" humans, even though the global height average had risen to above six feet in recent years.
He made his way to the exit gate, give or take 100m from the hangar, his exoskeleton legs whirring away with each step, stopping just before the two non augmented infantrymen.
A9 allowed them to check his credentials, and they permitted him entry to the barracks area.
Lost in thought, he walked back to the sprawling 4 story high, two square block long building that served as a home for all of the UNPC personnel at the installation, he thought about nothing in particular.
Installation 058 was the training base for the augment corps. Not to be confused with installation 235, which was the combat training base for the coalition and all cooperating nations.
058 was on an airbase, a concrete jungle of aircraft hangars with CQC courses inside, and buildings catered to all types of specific training.
"You still wear those damn things?" a familiar voice, the voice of C7, partner, asked as she removed her helmet, the seal making a hissing noise as it came off.
She quickened her pace to be next to him, with her own rifle, a Swedish AK5 slung across her front, her arms resting on top of the rifle, gripping her helmet with her left hand.
"I've had a hell of a day, I need a shower, food, then sleep" he replied taking the jest at his preference for the mk1 ECA (Enhanced Combat Apparel) exoskeleton legs over the newer mk2's quite literally in stride.
"I'll join you at that, '' she remarks with a slight smile. Kate "C7" Schmidt being nearly half his age, at only 153 years old, and good company. Having met 120 years ago to date.
Curiously, "How long have you been awake doing your reruns?" she asked.
Before replying, A9 glanced down at the display mounted on his left wrist, then back up to look at her. "28 hours." he said, shrugging.
"Reruns" were what the augments called their readiness assessments, which seemingly came at random. They changed a bit every time they went through them, but they can only change so much, even the CQC course A9 had just doe was vastly similar to the one from 3 cycles before.
She chuckled, "So that's why you look like hell."
A9 reached the door to the barracks before she did, the door automatically unlocking, sensing the small RFID chip embedded in the back of his right hand as he grasped the large D shaped handle of the door.
He opened it, and stepped aside, waiving C7 in.
They both made their way down the main hallway, once to the left, then through the first door on the right, the large white sign marked with white lettering spelling out "LOCKERS" hung above the door, spanning the width of the hall.
They both entered, this time C7 holding the door, returning the favor as A9 had just prior.
They found a vacant stall, the two next to each other left for them by the other augments, a courtesy they had both loathed.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
All too often they were finding things left by the others in their stalls, childish things, most being rather funny, but still annoying nonetheless.
The locker room was the biggest in the installation, with double locked equipment cages along the right wall, and shower heads along the left. At the rear of the room was a decontamination area, with stainless steel medical tables and massive crates that held a full field decon tent that could be set up in the room.
If you were unlucky enough to require the training, you'd be educated on how to do a full physical analysis of a patient, test them for exposure to every CBRN weapon the coalition knew about, and do so to 1 person every 2 minutes.
They started to remove their armor and stow their weapons in the marked double locked pelican cases.
Punching the unlock code into his wrist mounted screen, a code only he knew, and hearing the multitude of clicks as all of the locks disengaged.
He heard C7 do the same off to his left.
Firstly the chestplate came off, two clasps, then the large precision CNC machined plate of of steel, covered in a anti-spall layer on the strike face, with MOLLIE magazine pouches affixed to the front, matched with an aramid weave and D3O padding to provide added protection and impact absorption respectively.
He then removed the shoulder pauldrons, and so forth.
C7 always took longer due to her preference for the mk2 legs and their complicated removal, something A9 had laughed at her constantly for.
Eventually they were both in their LSS (Life Support Layer) that held the cooling, clotting, and the waste recycling inputs, all of which were useless without a Rear Main Plate (RMP)
The LSS was comfortable enough that most ran around in just it when they weren't in the full ECA.
the 9 wire connector and 6 tubes that would usually connect to the RMP, a small hump shaped enclosure, which held the suite of medicine, clotting agents, recycling system, and main computer controlling the ECA system dangling just off their right shoulder blades.
They both stepped out of the stalls, and to the open shower area near the back of the room. C7, stepping over to one of the shower heads, and turning it on.
As she let the water warm up, she unzipped the brass YKK zipper that started at her neck and ended near her navel, and slipped out of the light gray skin tight suit, its small cooling tubes stitched into the fabric weaving every which way as she moved it downward to pile at her feet.
She stepped out of it and under the shower head, the two valves in front of her.
These 2 augments were seemingly the only two in the service that had managed to put up with each other for over 100 years, and so many deployments together.
He looked her over as he always did, and she returned the favor.
Truth be told, they both liked looking at each other, there's something about looking at someone for who they are, and admiring their body that was natural.
Even after so long, their eyes still lingered on one another as they stood on the cold concrete of the locker room.
Anton smiled, and Kate returned it.
While the water was warming up, Kate took her toothbrush and wet it in the lukewarm stream of water, and began to brush her teeth.
Hygiene was always a concern, especially since they rarely had a chance when deployed, but in garrison or at training, there was no reason to go without.
Their augmentations covered infections of all types, but there wasn't any reason to have dragon breath in garrison. And their artificial teeth turned the most hellacious gray color when they weren't cleaned often.
Choosing the shower head next to Kate's, he turned the handle on the wall that controlled his shower head, and let the ever so slowly warming water begin to heat up before stepping into the stream, tweaking the temperature till it was to his liking.
This was one of only 44 showers at installations UNPC wide he could use without ducking, as the stream of water came out of a head that was mounted only a few inches from the 8' ceiling.
Kate turned to face him, "Your room after this, or mine?" taking the toothbrush out of her mouth just long enough to ask.
"You're so forward," he remarked with a slight smile. His eyes were drawn to bit of toothpaste dripping down the right side of her mouth caused by her beaming smile, then to her bright blue eyes that were contrasted perfectly by just a few strands of her deep black hair cascading down her shoulders and just off to the sides of her chest.
"You always make that joke, it's never any funnier than the last time" she says with a shake of her head, a smile still plastered on her face.
"I do it because you always smile," He replied.
"Anyways, make up your mind" She said.
"Uhh, mine" He said while looking at a scar just over her right shoulder, then shifting his gaze down her abdomen while she returned a nod in agreement.
"They always give us two when we're here, even though they know..." she let her voice trail off.
"I know, I'll let them know." He replied, nodding compassionately, his eyes still fixated on the scar over her right shoulder, which he remembered was caused by Terror in training.
He still remembered the sound of the Terror's being hit by her, like the sound of a thick rubber band thumping into a carpet after being held under tension by splayed fingers, and the "how ya' like that shitbird?" That followed.
He took it like a champ, and still apologized nearly every time he saw it.
All augments were covered in scars, the clotting agents automatically pumped into wounds made the skin heal quickly, but left terrible scars, something that only got worse as the clotting agent improved.
Anton grabbed his waist length auburn hair off of his chest, and tossed it over his shoulder to rest his back.
Long hair was something of a standard among the augments, some chose to cut it, but it quickly became a chore to keep it short, both due to long deployment times and lack of time to do so.
That being said, throughout the years, they often cut it once or twice, then let it grow back out again.
Cutting it in the field shortened it yes, but none of the augments went to cosmetology school, so it always turned out looking like a soup sandwich.
Namely it lacked the professionalism the large dark figures cladded in armor needed.
Anton found his hair comfortable enough to braid somewhat and place between the life support layer and aramid/D3O padding of his RMP.
During A9's training, another augment remarked that if worse came to worst, it could be used to make field expedient rope.
Just as his eyes flicked across her chest, he remembered when another one of the male staff, some unaugmented infantryman, had made a comment her size while she was within earshot, having assumed that since the Charlie series augment with enhanced eardrum sensitivity was far away, she wouldn't hear him.
He had watched in awe as she walked up to the infantryman and backhanded him so hard that it broke his cheekbone and knocked him out cold.
That seemed to do the trick, nothing of the sort ever happened again, to any of the staff.
The augments made sure of that.
The "trick" of course didn't stop the childish quips about "love birds'' and whatnot, but those were bearable, expected, almost welcome to him and Kate.
Once a augment was found to have sexually assaulted another non-augment, using their strength against the victim.
A9 never found out what happened to that augment exactly, just that nobody found them.
The novelty quickly wore off, and they each put on a pair of shorts & slide on shoes, and left the locker room. They headed to the chow hall, ate quickly, then went to their barracks room.
She went about her business topless, just as he did, and no one batted an eye.
The room he'd been assigned was sparse. A simple twin bed, dresser, small TV, and a bathroom with nothing but a toilet and sink.
They entered, and she closed the door behind him as he fell into bed on his back.
She laid on top of him, and pulled the queen size blanket over them both.
Asleep in an instant, the big idiot.