Under the Glass Sky

[cellar.]

He could practically

hear

Berezi smirking at the hypocorism.

Sammy

. pfft. While it was slightly exasperating, he had let it slide every time the nickname came up. Samson didn’t really mind, not enough to correct her anyway. He was long used to Clio’s hyper-activeness and casual manner of speech by now; after all, he had grown up with it since the age of seventeen. Berezi, on the other hand…Well, she didn’t seem to be all that amused by Clio’s antics at the moment. Her voice sounded flat, if not slightly defensive, as she responded to the question.


“Ha! Accident or not, it was hell of hit,” Clio said with a smile. “Clio Fiorina. Your assigned training instructor, honey.” With her focus now directed on the Berezi, she looked like she was on the verge of basically pouncing on the poor rookie. Clio was all

saccharine and smiles

…until it was time to get down to business. He had never met anyone so ingenuously sweet and scarily deadly at the same time.

What a killer combination.


“Anyways, I have instructions here from Franco to start off with something diagnostic. He wants you to go through some sims, see how it goes. It shouldn’t be anything hard – just a little workout and observation,” she said matter-of-factly. And it

was

simple in a sense, and yet complicated in others. Berezi just had to do her thing while Samson sat and watched the simulation run through. However, this was the first time he was going to be able to see the way she worked. They were never going to have the advantage of five years time, and so every detail was going to count.


“We’ll be at it for only two hours today, but a new schedule’s gonna be sent to you guys by tonight. Room 3-2B’s booked, so we’ll be hoping on the elevator.” Clio paused for a second, her gaze resting on Samson.

It was inquisitive and questioning – a loaded look.

However, it was a fleeting glance and her eyes quickly shifted back towards Berezi. “Any questions, kid?”

 

[french fries.]

All she had thought about while Clio spoke and Samson and herself did not, was how this person was apparently not a fan of calling people by their given names. First she had called Berezi honey, which didn't make sense because if she was going to compare Berezi to a food, why would she compare her to a sweet and sticky substance? Then she had called her kid. Now it was understandable because of their age difference, but Berezi had still taken offense. She wasn't a child in her mental state, maybe in physical appearance.


"Did my results for the final physical test come back? I feel like my overall time for the course decreased by at least half a minute." This question had nothing to do with what she was referring to, but it was still an overwhelming thought for her. Berezi assumed that, since this Clio was one of the head trainers, she would be able to report her scores back to her even though they had never met each other before. She wasn't concerned for her results, it was just pure curiosity that fueled the need to ask this question.


Although she only asked the question out of curiosity she did know that she needed to improve her running time. Short legs did not make for a good sprint length. Every week her time for running a mile improved, but only by a few seconds each time. The Requies liked to see larger improvement than a few seconds each month. But she could only push herself so far.


The elevator gave a 'ding' and they had arrived on their floor. Should she be nervous for this training session? The sims Clio had mentioned were no doubt Berezi handling a situation and Samson only stepping in to help if he needed to. What if she did something wrong? Even though she had already met Samson this would be like their first impression of each other, or more like her to him. This is where he would see if she really was a worthy partner of him. Of course she has seen that Samson isn't the most judge mental person, although he could just not be vocally active about his judgements. Again, she thought about how she felt she needed to know Samson better. Of course they would have to get better acquainted if they were going to work in the field together smoothly, but Berezi really didn't want to put her life into the hands of a stranger.

 

[cellar.]

Berezi, apparently, was not into being called anything other than her given name. It was a minuscule change in facial expression, in body language – but based on what Samson could tell;

honey

or

kid

was not at all to her liking. That was just part of Clio’s own personal brand of idiosyncratic habits. For as long as he could remember, he had always been Sammy or Sam or even the sigh-inducing

sweetie

to her. At least there was a plus to side to all of this though. He had found a perfect way to annoy his new partner.




“Did my results for the final physical test come back?”


“They sure have,” Clio answered with a grin. “Can’t tell you now of course, but expect your results in less than two days. They do all this stuff fast around here.” She led them into the cylindrical elevator and hit the silver button for the third floor, before turning around to face Berezi again. “But you know you probably did well and all. Most do by now. Else you wouldn’t have Sammy here, would you, huh?”


She was being casual enough, but Samson couldn’t tell if her demeanor was making Berezi calmer or more agitated. Or maybe it was the prospect of running through the sims that was making her antsy? Or the whole process of meeting him today?

Maybe.

As they got off the elevator, he found himself staring after her. It was another situation where he was pulling puzzle pieces together to read her expression. Maybe this was normal. But to him, it was work still waiting to be done.


Clio pressed her wrist against the lock above the handle, the metallic bracelet she wore flashed simultaneously with the light above the security device. A quiet beep and click signified the door was unlocked, and it slid open soundlessly as the lights flickered on. Eyes adjusting, Samson blinked and a colourless, featureless room came into focus. It was mostly empty, save for a few chairs at a white desk and a glass that separated the simulation area and control area.

Clean, sterile, safe. Nothing like a real world.


He looked around, gaze returning to his partner.


“Show me what you got,” Samson said.

 

[french fries.]

What was that supposed to mean? 'Else you wouldn't have Sammy here, would you, huh?' Was she supposed to feel privileged that her newly assigned partner had, she assumed of course, more experience than her along with an age difference that shouldn't matter, but still really did? She wouldn't have been surprised if the confusion she felt showed itself on her face, but she quickly covered her features with a look of neutrality.


Berezi was brought back out of her thoughts with Samson's 'Show me what you got'. She gave her newly appointed partner a smirk and cracked her knuckles, which was definitely not a nervous habit as someone had told her once that it was healthy or something. The sim was completely randomized so she didn't know what situation to expect. She gave one final glance at Samson, who would be watching her and giving her help through the thin wall that separated them, and turned to retrieve her weapon from the wall. She grabbed two pistols, which were made of hard, white plastic (why risk getting shot in a sim with real guns?). Berezi tucked one into the band of her waistband behind her and took the other with two hands, her stance without flaw as the computer generated walls rose around her.


She guessed that she would have to clean the area out, maybe a hostage rescue? The walls that now surrounded her were a dull grey and the low lighting was meant to keep her on her toes. She didn't need a lack of lighting to be alert. The simulation that was generated resembled a maze of sorts, Berezi found herself navigating narrow hallways and all too aware of the fact that she hadn't found a single enemy yet.


As she rounded another corner she didn't realize that there were two halls stemming off of the one she came from and, as her eyes swept one of the halls, she wasn't prepared for the attacker that came from the hall she hadn't checked. A firm hand planted itself on her shoulder, the enemy trying to pin her to its chest in an attempt to hold her back. With a well placed kick she was out of it's grip already turning around to place a bullet in the AI's hard plastic. The pistol in her hands, although fake, was well replicated so the gunshot would've been loud if it hadn't been for the silencer she placed on it before the sim had begun. Berezi didn't take a moment to catch her breath from her mishap, she only continued with a more careful eye.


She had almost forgotten that was the whole reason Samson was there: to help her in any way he could. "Tell me what my blind spots look like." Berezi told him, knowing that he could hear her through the fake walls that separated them.


Berezi wasn't sure how much time had passed during the sim, all she did know was that she had continued smoothly. No further mistakes were made like the one from the beginning. She ended up pulling out her other pistol halfway through and dual-wielding when the groups of computer generated enemies were greater than pairs. The brunette only had to use brute force occasionally, which was only when punching helped the situation more than pulling the trigger (not often). The rhythm she was in felt natural to her, the only difference between this and her old training was that she had someone watching her back.

 

[cellar.]

As Berezi stepped in, the outline of the sim was projected as a holographic image before them. Samson watched as Clio pressed a few buttons on the interface, typing up sequences and selecting keys that positioned the obstacles and goals accordingly. As she continued to monitor the technicalities of the simulation, Samson sat back in his seat and watched his new partner traverse through the geometric maze of halls on the screen. So far, it didn’t seem like anything of great significance was happening. She was being careful enough, and the hallways remained empty of enemies.


“I thought he would’ve let you off by now.”


He shifted his gaze towards Clio, who was now leaning lazily on the arm of her chair. She had spoken quite suddenly, and he wasn’t sure what to make of her statement. “Yeah,” Samson finally responded with an offhand shrug. “That’s supposed to be the deal, I guess.” It was a warped sort of liberation in that sense, the worst kind of freedom – but the death of a partner usually meant discharge for the other. He wasn’t supposed to be back here monitoring this sixteen-year-old nobody for missions – Ilya’s death should have guaranteed that. They never spoke about this hypothetical

afterwards

, never tried to bring up something unspeakable. But they had both known this fact nevertheless, and often Samson had felt a voracious guilt for ever wanting a different life. His wishes had always been locked in the beating of Ilya’s pulse.


“It doesn’t always work out, hun; we don’t always get paired right,” Clio offered. “Probably needed you to step in or something, since the timing…The timing was right.” She looked back at the screen, and he followed her lead. They sat in a moment of silence, watching as Berezi struggled out of the machine’s hold and planted a bullet in the plastic exoskeleton of the AI. Her skills were irrefutable, but they weren’t anything out of the ordinary either. The explanation didn’t lie in her abilities. “Huh. Guess they wanted to keep her for something,” Clio mused, mirroring his own thoughts.


"Tell me what my blind spots look like." Berezi interjected, clearly aiming the command at Samson.

Yeesh.

He would’ve been content just to watch.


“You wanna help her?” Clio asked, a smirk playing underneath her neutral expression. She paused, waiting to turn on the intercom.


“Hmph. Toss me a headset,” he said, responding to her challenge. Clio’s smile only grew wider. Oh jeez.

He had to make this work now, just to wipe the silly grin from her face.

Well, if Berezi wanted this to be real, if she wanted them to work as partners already – then he would give that to her. He was well aware of the fact that they had spent years developing different styles, and they were probably equally stubborn in this aspect. This was going to be their first test: a horrific clash of personal nuances that would make the whole thing less-than-effortless, less than the flawless execution they were held at a standard to. But she was the one that had requested this, and he wasn’t about to refuse.

If it ended in disaster, so be it.

There was no point in delaying the process.


“If you want me to cover you right now, I want you to drop the pistols.”

 

[french fries.]

So everything got laggy and I was like 'oh no my browser is gonna crash better get a screenshot,' so I got a screenshot and then my goddamn browser crashed. Sorry for the post in pic form :c