4.1 Welcome congregation
Nautcham’s User in the Spotlight: Eyeshot
What’s up Nerdchams? Nautcham here again to give you my most accurate take on the hottest Will Users our lands have to offer. Last week we covered Infinity Girl, so it’s only natural that we move to her crime-fighting counterpart, Eyeshot, from the UL Department of Security.
She’s a master of Optimisation, straight from the Northern Realms. And hot-damn is she a looker? I dig a silver-haired maiden. As a secondary in Weaponist Will, her most iconic weapon of choice is her rifle. She also has a handgun, a light machine gun, a shotgun and likely many, many more.
They’re not regular guns, either. Eyeshot enhances them with Optimisation to destroy the most resilient of Wills. In fact, she’s up there with the strongest Optimisation Users in the UL, perhaps the strongest firearm enhancer of our current military. On top of that she can enhance her legs, her arms…but most impressive of all, her vision. In case you didn’t know, that’s not easy, folks! So if you’re wondering why her arsenal is missing a scope. It’s ‘cause she’s already got two of them, they’re attached to her skull.
I hope she gets Secretary of Defence. If that happens, maybe I’ll finally start paying attention to politics. Everyone’s making a big fuss about her being the first Willed member of the Cabinet, but eh, does it matter? The other option is literally the President’s younger brother, are we really that desperate to keep the Willed out of the White House?
What’s your guy’s opinions about Users in government?
As for Eyeshot’s rating. What can I say? Guns are badass. They’re fast, they’re powerful. The master marksman gets a solid S tier for me.
Stay warm!
Nautcham.
Following the directions of the staff, men and women stand at the deck of Peacemaker in a uniform square. She glances around to see mostly men of early twenties to mid-thirties, under a blinding sun. They have large builds and veteran auras. Some are much older, in their forties, maybe. She wonders what made them resolve to the Reserve.
“To me, Sky Company,” booms a voice.
A handsome, red-haired man passes them. The number 5 is brandished on his uniform and Will radiates from him like sun rays. He’s a User. Four fellow Willed applicants are tailing him in a single file line.
“Positions, Sand Company!”
A woman this time, applicant 10. A long blond ponytail swings behind her head. More Will Users. Maeven senses Ten’s aura aerating with mystique.
You could tell they’re Willed just by looking at them, from the individuated way they carried themselves, in hair style, in gait.
“Do we get a name?” comments the big guy, Callum. The dorm assignees, they’re all taller than her. Him, Gunner, Win, and Forrest by the ears on his head.
“Do we need to salute?” asks Forrest.
“Just stand normally,” she tells him. “We’re Ocean Company.”
She hates it. The aftertaste of delivering command; it’s bitter on her tongue.
More Will sources are walking down the deck. Experienced, powerful. This radiating energy is called Resonance. It’s the projected essence of a User’s Will. Every User has some of it pouring out unless they’re intentionally hiding it away. Sometimes, even then, Maeven’s particularly sensitive to them.
Carefully, she scans each User in her mind and her heart pounds. Her senses have dulled greatly in the year; she has to focus hard.
That one.
She can see two of them walking down by the gunwale. A short, white-bearded old man in an oversized button-up instead of a uniform—clasping a wooden stick behind his back, and Eyeshot.
That red and white bodysuit. The quad gun holsters. Long, silver hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She’s unmistakable. For a second, Eyeshot’s blood-stained eyes lock on her, and Maeven reflexively pays mind, bringing her palm to her temple and dipping her head.
“Who is that?” asks Forrest as the User passes.
“Eyeshot,” says Maeven. “She’s a Will User.” She looked at me.
“She got those special powers?” says Gunner.
“She’s a marksman with extremely acute perceptive senses.” Maeven takes a breath. A master of Optimisation. Gunner immediately dismisses the analysis. “I don’t even know what the fuck that means.”
“Who’s that old man?” asks Forrest.
“He’s a User too,” says Maeven.
“Really?” The boy turns back to where Eyeshot and the old man stand by the gunwale. “How do you know?”
“I am a User.”
“No shit,” says Gunner. Looking only the slightest bit intrigued.
“Good morning applicants!” A cheery voice screeches through a megaphone, stealing everyone’s attention frontward.
It’s a middle-aged woman with bouncy orange hair, another powerful User, standing on a milk crate with pad clutched in her arm. “My name is Candy Mills, you shall refer to me as Captain Mills, I am the Reserve’s Head of Administration. Behind you and to your right, you will see Captain Eyeshot, our Head of Operations, as well as Captain June Everolt, Head Executive. Captain Leichman is up there, in the control room.” Mills points up above her head. “He’s the Head of Equipment. He’s also the helmsman, if you think we’re at any point going the wrong way.” There’s a chuckle. “Alright,” she exhales. She’s wearing a VR uniform like the applicants, except it’s cropped above her belly button.
“Welcome to the Voluntary Reserve. I am very pleased to be saying that. We hope you—you know—get what you’ve been needing from us. Excitement, purpose, experience, all that. When we started this fifteen, no—sixteen years ago, we originally thought we would get these bright, young applicants ready to do some humanitarian work for the less fortunate. But what we ended up getting was a lot of middle aged to older men who were…they were purposeless, in a way. You know—maybe they were divorced, unemployed, or they were employed but they might as well be unemployed because it all felt just as miserable anyway. Or maybe, they were retired and joining the military was something they’ve always wanted to do. And you know what? We decided to embrace that. That’s the direction we were going and that’s what we decided to go with.”
Maeven listens, frowning. Being looped in with aimless old men fills her with remorse.
“Since then, the Voluntary Reserve has proudly garnered a reputation of helping our applicants back on their feet. The great, second chance,” she says. “That’s—we’re proud of that.” She pauses and looks around, seemingly distracted.
“You will note, the teammates around you will be the extent of whom you’ll meet here. The rest of the volunteers, that is assignment numbers 501 to 1000 are aboard the other side of the ship and will stay on that side for the remainder of the trip, OK? Makes it easier to manage.” Captain Mills cracks off the megaphone and steps down from the crate.
Schedules are handed out to each team as Peacemaker begins a slow and dizzy departure. Reading it, it states that all company leaders must meet every morning to get the first information dispatch regarding this year’s campaign, among other updates.
The business-as-usual activities on Peacemaker range from holding watch to weapon testing, with large gaps of leisure time in between. There isn’t all that much to do on the ship, she supposes, before knowing where they’re going or why they’re going there.
Suddenly, as the crowd of assignees begin to depart back to their dorms, a searing Resonance pierces through her. Maeven jolts forward. Captain Eyeshot’s pulsed her Resonance at her, and it afflicts her with shock and migranious pain. She turns back.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Captain Eyeshot is beckoning her with her index. It’s like meeting eyes with the point of a knife.
A single pulse, and it felt like she got shot in the head.
“Maeven Riel of Larosa Girls’ Academy of Will,” is the first thing Eyeshot says when she walks up to her, closer towards the bow of the ship. The old man Captain June watches them from the side.
“Yes?” says Maeven. From here, she can see the User’s Will has indeed turned her pupils permanently into crosshairs.
“I was waiting for you.”
Is this a good dream or a bad one?
The User continues, “By the look of your face you appear to believe missing a physical examination is inconsequential to you.”.
Bad dream. Definitely bad dream.
Maeven places her hand over her mouth, feeling her insides sour. “I’m so sorry.” Captain Eyeshot was…hosting the physical examination she never went to? Maeven made her wait in an empty gymnasium.
Captain Eyeshot steps towards her. “What were you thinking, Larosa Girls’ Academy of Will? Are you too good for physical examination, you think?” Her voice is calm, everything else does not speak calm.
“I don’t think that, Captain Eyeshot.”
“I know exactly what you think, Larosa. You think the rules apply to everyone except for you. I say 0800 hours, you think you can come at 0805. You are wrong.”
Her Resonance feels like a piercing bullet, a spotlight from a police helicopter.
“You did a very stupid thing ignoring your examination, Larosa. Now, you are a hot mouse in cold metal walls, and I am the owl. Don’t forget this Larosa, the proximity that exists now between you and I. From now on, Maeven Riel, are you listening? You have no secrets.”
There’s a long, cold ring to the air at the end of her voice.
“Very good, Riel,” says the old man Captain June, breaking the scene. “You can head back to your cabin now.” Captain Eyeshot raises her hand. “I am not finished.”
“I believe Riel’s finished. Right Riel? It’s getting a bit rocky, you better head to bed before the ship turns sideways. Careful, a wave’s coming!” He chuckles.
Right. What the hell is she still doing here. She got the order. Head back to your cabin. She pays mind to the both of them and walks away as fast as she can without her Will. Walk now, think later.
Captain Eyeshot stares at the short man for long, long after.
4.2 First leader's briefing
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She did take the time to think, in fact, the thoughts didn’t leave Maeven’s mind through her whole first night on sea. She tossed around hot then cold, the captain’s voice ringing in her head.
Why didn’t she go to the damn physical examination? She saw it written on the email. Willed applicants meet at the Lockhard Laboratory gym room at their assigned time slot. Her’s said 0700. She assumed it would be fine if she simply missed it, but it was stupid in hindsight. The thought of being roped up with cups and wires. Breathing over a treadmill until she reached top miles per hour like she did for the interviews. She’s even repulse by the sound, the sustained beep of the VO2 machine when it jumps a stage interval. They used to just shut it off because they were afraid she’d keep running until her lungs collapsed, foolhardy to prove something. That’s enough, they’d say. She didn’t want to hear it again. Not again.
Something unsticks from the desk. A little card she found stuck to the corner when she came in, indicating her assignment number. She was fiddling too much with it.
15
Every fifth member is a leader.
The desk to her left has the number ten, and the desk left of that five. Meaningless is another way to put it. It could have been anyone else.
The room is filled with padded steel chairs and square desks spaced out like a checkerboard. They’re all empty except for hers, being the first to arrive to the leader’s briefing this morning.
She hears the sound of the door opening. Assignees Five and Ten enter the briefing room, the Willed leaders of Sky Company and Sand Company whom she saw yesterday at the welcoming congregation.
“I guess that’s just part of the deal—oh, morning Fifteen,” says Five, closing the door behind Ten.
“Morning,” says Ten.
Five extends his hand and walks to her desk. “Victor Stendahl, leader of Sky Company nice to meet you.” His Resonance is bright and welcoming.
“Maeven Riel,” she says, sticking the number tag back on the desk to shake his hand.
“Leader of Ocean?”
“Yes.”
“What was Eyeshot saying to you after congregation yesterday?” says Ten, turning from a porthole on the side wall. To the end of that, she adds, “Ina,” the shortest introduction she could possibly manage.
“Nothing,” says Maeven.
“No, wasn’t nothing.” Ina knocks the glass with her knuckle. “We’re going east.” She says. Victor turns to Maeven after this and asks: “What do you think Riel, India? South Africa?” And then Ina jumps in again: “What’d you do to piss her off?”
Maeven stays quiet, and she would rather bother herself with the memory than to answer the latter question.
“D’you wear your jacket inside out or something?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I wore my jacket inside out.”
Ina takes her seat at desk 10. She runs her hand down her blond ponytail to pull it out between her back and the seat. She’s pretty, and she doesn’t smile.
“I know you’re being sarcastic.”
Victor loiters in front of them, arms crossed in his blue VR jacket, sinewy muscles implied by the tensioned fabric. “So,” he says. “Didn’t think we’d meet a Larosa kid at the VR.”
Maeven thinks: Who told them?
“What d’you specialise?”
“You wouldn’t expect any User in the VR,” says Ina. “We’re here for the money.”
“You’re also here for the remuneration package?” Victor asks her.
“I—um.”
As she’s thinking of an answer, she flinches away from Ina, who appears to have swiped at the air beside her head. “What are you doing?” says Maeven, shielding a bit.
“Think fast Larosa, you’re supposed to be stronger than all of us aren’t you?” Ina swipes again. “We could never be in the same competition pools as the Larosa kids ‘cause you guys were considered ‘too elite.’ I fucken hate the word elite.” Another swipe. Ina looks her up and down. “Dodge this.”
Maeven grabs Ina’s wrist when the assignee punches. Ina puts her other hand on the back of Maeven’s palm, then all of a sudden, the assignee’s calling her Will.
It happens fast. Something green from Ina’s sleeve that Maeven catches as it whips out. It’s cool and feels like thin leather. She tugs.
What she finds hanging from her hand, is a tree viper. Maeven stares at its yellow-slitted eyes, looking choked under her grip.
“Geez Ina,” says Victor. “Pick on the Larosa kid why don’t you.”
When they hear the sound of the door opening again, they quickly pull away. Ina withdraws the manifestation. It melts into goo and disappears over the carpet.
Victor moves to his desk as more assignees start to fill the room. He’s shaking his head as he’s sitting down, because as they know, they shouldn’t really be using their Will like that.
Ina leans over. She continues at a whisper. “A bite on the hand. That snake was going to make you admit everything embarrassing thing in your life you wish you forgot. Every time you slept on your mama’s bed. All the thoughts you don’t say aloud.”
A mind control snake. Maeven’ll keep that in mind.
“What did Eyeshot say to you at the welcoming congregation?” says Ina. “Maeven.”
She ignores him. A captain’s coming.
“Riel. Is your eye colour real? Victor have you seen her eyes?”
Someone new walks into the room, and he isn’t in uniform. Wearing a tailored dark blue suit, narrow glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, and his brow bones stick out under his skin. “Look at this. Full house,” he says as he closes the door and looks at the desks.
“Morning everyone,” he says, centring. “I’m sure you’re all dying to hear what this year’s campaign is.” He’s ditched the introduction, though the Will emanating from him is impressive enough. Cold and controlled.
“If you are, I suppose I’ll warn you now.”
The man calls his pad. Tiny pixels fly out from his pocket that connect to form a smartphone-sized screen, floating a few inches from his chest. He positions the pad on the back wall then taps on it. More pixels join the screen until it’s the size of a whiteboard.
She hears a couple murmurs. Presentation mode is an expensive configuration. Maeven herself only has enough to make a 10-inch tablet.
“You’re going to have to be very patient,” he continues.
Upon these words, puzzlement sweeps across the room.
“What?” Ina whispers beside her.
“You’re not going to know about the campaign yet. The latter half of assignees are going to be told first, and they’re also going to be the first deployed for engagement—I can’t answer questions on this.” He shakes his head at a hand raised, and the assignee lowers it back down to the desk. Assignees 501 to 1000, apparently aboard the other side of the ship. They’re going to know about the campaign before them.
“Information management,” he says, stopping. “That’s what I got from Mills.” He turns towards the screen.
“When are you going to tell us then?” says Ina, so far, the only one unafraid of sounding annoyed at the man.
The captain sighs as he thinks. “Four weeks. Six. You’re at the advantage. By the time we tell you we’ll be a lot more familiar with what we’re dealing with,” he says. “In the meantime, there’ll be a lot to do once we reach land. We’re going to stop by places that have fallen victim to impoverishment and crime. We have community aid projects; we have medical and care packages to give. Mortareste is where we’ll port,” he says. “If you don’t know where that is, you have a few hours before Captain Mills takes your pads. Look for the little triangle under Oman.”
A few of the leaders call their pads for a map. With a swipe of their finger, their pixels form screens and float in their preferred configuration.
“Two weeks, and we reach land,” he says, gesturing it with this fingers. “Rule number one—pay attention—you need to stay within your assigned company at all times. We’ll confront you if you’re seen without them. Other than that, enjoy. You’ll make some good memories here.” He cracks an unexpected smile.
Leichman, Maeven catches it on the little badge pinned to his suit. Captain No. 3; The helmsman.
Leichman flicks the screen to a slideshow, and for the rest of the briefing he talks about leadership principles, protocols, and an extensive run down of VR regulations the organisation refers to collectively as the “Rules of Service.” As promised, he avoids the campaign’s mentioning the entire time.
Maeven listens with her arms on the desk. Every few slides, Captain Leichman prompts them with a question that only Victor seems to answer. The ROS is a particularly dense subject, with codes ordered in tiny text and hierarchies of bullet points. Leichman doesn’t seem to bog down on the details. “Just do what you’re told and you’ll be fine,” he surmises repeatedly.
An hour passes when Captain Eyeshot walks from the hall to pause by the doorframe. Once Leichman finishes and withdraws his pad board, she straightens and singles Maeven out.
Cafeteria duty, she tells her. Three times a day, Maeven’s now required to help distribute tray meals to four hundred and ninety-nine assignees. Maeven nods along without a word. First shift is this morning, so she heads straight for the kitchen after stepping out to the hallway.
This is what happens when you miss your physical examination, she guesses.