Aberrant: Stargate Universe - Sgt. Declan Perault

[Mr Fox]

Home-schooled before, Declan did not adapt well to the hurly-burly of public education. At the age of 16, going nowhere, having nothing, and lacking any direction to his life he joined the Army. He found a direction there, a focus. He found the hard life of a light infantryman to his tastes, and re-enlisted as soon as his first term was up, volunteering for Ranger School and passing with flying colors. Exemplary performance in the Persian Gulf and Somalia led to a promotion to Sergeant, then further service and promotion to First Sergeant came readily. Then came Afghanistan.

Despite all the training, something in Declan came apart in the mountains of the Middle East. He started to hallucinate and worse, sleepwalk at night time, causing his platoon leader to worry. The subtle sense of wrongness, of not belonging, crept into Declan's mind, making him erratic and prone to fits of anger. Somehow, the young man held it together for the remainder of his tour. Loyalty to the Army and loyalty to his squad mates kept him from flipping out completely. With his company commander's recommendation, he received an honorable discharge and went on his way.

The hallucinations followed him home. The V.A. in Los Angles, knowing his history, set him up with a job as a trash man and a shrink. But Declan's paranoia grew worse and worse: he was convinced that sinister agencies were hounding him through the city streets. Finally, when dark SUVs blocked him in one dark morning on the way to work, Declan knew he had been right. They had come for him...

Dec was a big man and even before his tour 'over there' people had gotten out of his way. Now days though he seemed to scare little children. He was just walking by on his way to work past the bus stop and some little kid had looked up at Dec and saw something in his eyes that frightened him to the point that he jumped up and ran across the street nearly pissing himself. Dec hadn't even noticed him till the kid squeaked. He was just walking focusing on his own thoughts. Not really even aware of his surroundings. The docs called it the Thousand Yard Stare, and it was common among those that had seen some bad action.

He wanted to pretend that it didn't matter, but scaring children... not good. He was thinking about that a few minutes later when the black SUVs pulled up and the men in black got out. "What the fuck? You guys out of a bad b-movie or something?" They didn't seem amused and neither was Dec. The docs said he was becoming paranoid, but crap, black SUVs? Seriously? He didn't have time to think anything else, the rest was all action. His training kicked in and he moved to get away and struck out at two men, one with a punch and the other with a kick. They both went down. Dec was strong after all and he was scared too. This was some crazy shit. Two wasn't much of a dent, there were 8 of them and the other six surrounded him and didn't play fair. One of the guys used some funny looking taser on him and he was out.

*****

When he woke up he recognized the place. He was in a room with padded walls, cheap padded walls, government issue padded walls. This place was a VA head shrinker ward. A little older than he was used to but when you'd been in one of these rooms, you never forgot it.

Despite his unusual arrival he was treated well. Good food was brought in and although a guard remained on his door at all times, the men gave him looks of respect. That was something he'd missed about being in the military but not even realized it until now. That afternoon he had a visitor, he guessed it was afternoon since the last meal had been called lunch by the man that dropped it off. The man was a captain by the bars on his black collar.

"Sgt. Declan Perault. Decorated for bravery under fire in Afghanistan. You were a good soldier until you lost it." The man waited as if he expected Dec to speak, but the silence hung in the air until he cleared the Captain cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I understand you had a rough time of it son. Thing is your country needs you and Uncle Sam can do something to help you. It can't have been easy coming home and trying to fit back into Society, not after what you've seen. Well, there are other enemies out there and you can make a difference."

Declan spoke for the first time, "With all due respect sir, you're full of shit. I lost it over there and I can barely keep a civilian job, what makes you think I can come back to the army now?"

The Captain smiled, "Because we have a treatment that will fix you. We have your records from the VA and we have developed a radical treatment that will make you twice the soldier you used to be. If it fails, and it won't, you can go back to flipping burgers at McDonald's if you want, but if it works you can make a difference by working with us. We could use some good men like you."

Dec shrugged, what did he really have to lose anyway? "I'll give it a shot."

*****

Later that evening he was lead to a room with a stone thing in the middle of the floor. He could see it had marks carved into it and he looked at the Captain. "What the hell is this?" After just a brief pause he added, "Sir." The captain pointed to the middle part with the crystal on top.

"When you get close to that one of those glyphs will light up. Push the one that does. That's all there is to it. The machine will do the rest."

Dec was skeptical but what the hell, he'd gone this far, might as well go the last 20 feet. Sure enough one of the 'Glyphs' the man had called them, lite up bright. He reached out and his world disolved. Just like those bastards at the VA to give him electroshock therapy without asking permission... That was all he had time to think before he was unconscious with the floor rushing up to meet him.

*****

When he came to there was a black uniform on a chair next to the bed, and the Captain leaned against the wall. "Son, when you feel well enough ask the guards at the door to take to you get cleaned up then get yourself into that uniform. We'll give you a couple days to rest up then your testing will begin. Welcome to the NID."

[The Red Man]

He was barely aware for the trip to the showers. The pain in his head was terrible, but worse than that was the sensory overload. He could see the guards either side of and slightly behind him. He could hear their breathing as though they were right in his ear. He stumbled more than once for the first hundred steps, and every time the slap of his bare foot on the ground sounded like a gunshot to his ears.

The shower was bad too. It's hiss was a roar, the gentle spray was almost stinging. The soap smelled too strong, the lights were too bright. The world was fucking him in the sensory centers and Would. Not. Stop!

He stumbled out after cleaning up, a towel wrapped around his waist. The two guards moved towards him, reaching out to assist him.

"Don't touch me!" He shrank back from them, his eyes lifting for the first time since the artifact's room to look at them fully. They in turn hesitated, stepping back and looking at each other for reassurance. Perault's eyes...

...were metallic cold silver in colour. The guards saw themselves reflected in those shiny surfaces and felt uneasy, as though someone was digging then walking over their graves. The looks on their faces, however, were nothing compared to the look on Declan's face. His unshaven features screwed up in disbelief and fear, and they wondered what he saw.

*****

He saw their deaths. He saw the way they stood, the way their hands dropped to their tasers as he looked at them. Their heads turned back towards him ...so slowly. It would be easy to step forward with a single flowing stride so as not to catch their eye and trigger their instincts and then he could snap the neck of the one on the left and drive the heel of his hand into the throat of the other one and then he would be armed and ready to take on all comers for the tactical situation would be better if he had weapons... Over and over like this, he saw fifty, a hundred scenarios played out wherein the two men in front of him died in a multitude of ways.

"NO!" he screamed in a voice that was almost a roar, lifting his hands as though to block out the images of death and violence. His heart sounded in his ears: too fast, too damned fast. He should be going into cardiac arrest, he should be dead. He counted 150 beats a minute, and that scared him too, because there's no way he could count that fast or easily. It was like part of his brain was operating coolly and efficiently despite his terror. One of the guards stepped forwards, disquiet mixed with concern, and reached out...

... and died as Declan gripped his wrist twisted it up behind his back and snapped his neck in one smooth motion before drawing the sidearm and putting a bullet through the brain of the second guard who was too slow to draw his own weapon because they weren't expecting this...

Declan reeled away from the reaching guard. "DON'T TOUCH ME! YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" Sobbing uncontrollably, his hands shaking, the veteran collapsed in the corner murmuring something over and over.

As one guard radioed for backup, the other one leaned closer to catch what Perault was saying. He heard one thing, repeated over and over.

"No-more-no-more-no-more..."

[Mr Fox]

The guard didn't know what to make of this guy. He'd heard the guys suffered from some serious PTS but this... Seeing a dangerous look in Declan's eyes sent a shiver down his spine. That look felt like being measured for a coffin.

He backed up several paces and said as gently as he could, "Take it easy soldier. No one is gonna get close. Just relax and when you are ok, follow me. We'll get you back to your room so you can relax."

[The Red Man]

Later...

"So how's he doing?" The captain asked, a tinge of genuine concern in his voice. It was a shame that a once-fine soldier could fall apart, after all.

"Not good." The doc answered him, now and then flipped over a page as he read through the test results. "It's classic good news/bad news. We got a valid result, but the subject's mind was too fragile to start with. You know, I told you-"

"Yeah, and I told the guys upstairs. And they said to proceed anyway." The captain cut him off.

"So what did it do to him?" The two men watched through the closed-circuit camera as Sgt. Perault lay in the fetal position on his bunk, eyes closed.

"Well, it appears to have enhanced him both physically and mentally. He's stronger and faster than any 10 men we could pick out." The doctor read over the blood work. "His immune system is in line with some of the others: it'd take elephant tranquilisers to slow him down. Brain scans show a massive increase in neural activity, especially in the spatial and reflex areas of the brain. Other than that, we can't tell..."

"...Because he won't cooperate." The captain sighed, finishing the statement.

"No. All he does is sit there and eat any food we give to him. He's quiet at least, as long as we don't try to take him out of that cell." The doctor added, then glanced at the officer. "So what are we going to do?"

"Orders are to push him a bit." The captain said firmly, his lips tightening. "I've already arranged the push. Are the scanners ready to go?"

The doctor checked another monitor. "Sure. Neural pathing sensors are online, and we have the full array of bio-scans active. So what's the push going to be?" The captain squared his shoulders and sighed softly, eyes fixed on the screen.

"We're going to try and kill him. I gave the job to two of the new guys." He tried to sound matter-of-fact. "If they succeed, then the enhancement was a failure. If they fail, no-one will miss them."

*****

The door of his cell opened, and Dec didn't move. It was probably more food: they kept on feeding him every couple of hours. He didn't mind. The food was a welcome break from being alone with his thoughts. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the person in the doorway, not wanting to see their frailty and know how to kill them in an instant. He heard the guard come close, smelling aftershave and sweat... but no food.

A sharp electrical current suddenly jolted him and he screamed, the taser sending 50,000 volts into his writhing body. The amplitude was set to kill, but all this did was hurt. A lot. His eyes snapped open and stared, shocked, at the guard standing over him even as his body jerked from the current running through it. Another black-uniformed guard was closing the door, his taser also in hand. Declan scrambled off the bed and backed up against the wall, his silver eyes wide with fear.

"What the fuck are you doin'?" He asked them in a frantic tone, trying to ignore the data currently scrolling through his mind about things like closest point of approach, center of balance and fields of vision. Each man had a blurry outline around him, a not-quite resolved picture of the next 50 possible actions they could take.

"Sorry dude. Orders from the brass. You're to be liquidated." One of the men told him, their voice as cold as ice. He looked into their eyes and saw that it wasn't some crazy ass game, it wasn't some mindfuck. They were serious. And with that realisation, his panic reached a new height and abruptly... vanished. Declan's fear was gone. The sense of grey alienation that had plagued him since the breakdown was gone. In fact, pretty much everything that was Declan the broken-down ex-soldier was gone.

It's like being a god he thought almost curiously to himself. His thoughts were crystal, sharp and brilliant, thousands of sparkling facets turning over and over in looping, spinning spirals of plan and counterplan. Images flashed in each of the sparkling points of light and he selected one and made it him. The guards were still moving forwards, but they were so slow. One was talking to the other, but the flawless, merciless engine that Declan's brain had become analysed the words and cast them aside as irrelevant without further care. The second one had a nasty little smile on his face, and some part of Declan was both offended and repulsed by that callousness. But that part was distant now... so very distant.

He moved. The first guard screamed as a hand gripped the wrist holding the taser and squeezed once. Bones crackled and popped in the small chamber even as Declan-no-more spun the hapless man in front of him and stabbed forwards, still holding the wrist. The first guard's taser sunk into the second one's eye as he advanced, and discharged. The man didn't even have time to scream before the current fried his frontal cortex.

The first guard was still screaming as Declan, his face strangely expressionless and silver eyes blank, spun him away. Flailing his good hand defensively, the guard tried to backpedal as the prisoner stepped forward and to the right, spun, and slammed his heel squarely into the man's throat with a sickening crack. He brought the foot back down in one smoothly graceful motion and looked once around the chamber.

All was quiet.

For a long moment, Declan just stood there, eyes still blank yet somehow watchful. Then gradually, sensibility returned to that gaze and he blinked, looking around himself with dawning horror. The smell of ozone and charred flesh filled the air, and the two bodies lay where they had fallen.

"Oh... god." He stumbled against the bed, collapsing onto it reflexively. He looked at what he had wrought. He remembered! That was the worst part. He remembered what he had just done, how it had felt. He had felt like an eagle flying, like a junkie on the best high of his life. But he had just killed two men in less time than it took a heart to beat ten times. He was a murderer. He felt great. What the FUCK did they do to me?

Under the circumstances, there was only one thing left to do. He leaned forwards and puked his guts up.

*****

"Well, we got a lot of useful data." The doctor said with forced professionalism. The captain was still watching the hunched figure on the monitor. Both men were shaken by the casual, terrifyingly swift destruction of life they had just witnessed. The captain shook his head once and turned to leave.

"Type it up and give me something to take to them upstairs." He told the doc. "But I don't think they'll be too happy with the fact that this guy needs to be scared shitless before he'll be any use." He walked out without a backward glance. "Get someone to clean up the bodies and feed him."

[Mr Fox]

Declan had been resting and recovering from his recent murder attempt when alarms sounded and the door opened and four thugs stepped inside. Looked like they were ramping up the testing here. Either that or they were getting serious and really meant to take him out. Didn't matter. Sgt. Declan Perault wasn't going to allow anyone to kill him.

Declan Init: 21

BG1 and 3: 9

BG2 and 4: 15

[The Red Man]

He felt IT start to happen as soon as the door opened. The world slowed down as the four black-clad men stepped into the chamber. His heartrate sped up. With incredible efficiency his body and mind went into combat mode, but this time Declan was steering it himself.

He'd been expecting this, though the alarms made him feel that something else was going on. The last couple of hours, Declan had been focusing on how he had felt during that last fight, what he had seen and experienced. It had been helpless panic that had prompted his body to take over in the interests of self-preservation. This time, he would not lose that control.

Once more he saw the shining ghost images of what-could-be, his brain plotting aspects of the tactical scenario such as angles of fire, the handed-ness of his enemies, and the distance to each. Everything in his environment became either a weapon or a defense and was assessed in terms of effectiveness in a microsecond. Colours were sharper, images more vibrant, and he felt... great. Strong, purposeful: unafraid. He knew what to do.

((Blatantly stealing an idea from Rev and Cueing the Awesome Fight Music!!! ))

He came off the bed in a blur as the four men started to draw their guns. In a whirl of motion, he stooped, straightened and spun without pause. So intent were the black-garbed killers on tracking his movements that they didn't see what he had done until a thrown plate came spinning into the ribcage of the left-most.

Click to reveal..

Throwing Plate: Dex and Athletics. -2 = 7 dice + 1 Mega

(00:57:44) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 7d10 and gets 7,10,6,3,1,5,1.

(00:57:51) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 1d10 and gets 7.

5 succs to hit.

Damage: 2d10 B + 5d10 Str + 4d10 extra succs,

= 11d10 B

(01:36:19) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 11d10 and gets 2,5,4,9,10,4,7,7,8,6,2.

= 5 succs

+ 1 auto dmg from Mega Str. (5 - Bashing soak)

= 6 Bashing damage.

The terrific impact not only knocked the wind out of the guard, it also threw him up against the wall, audibly cracking several ribs. He hit the floor like a limp bag of wet sand, groaning.

The other guards were bringing their weapons to bear, but Declan was already on them. He grasped the rightmost man's gun hand firmly, spinning him towards his fellows as Declan stepped in behind him, twisting the hand up between the guard's shoulder blades. Almost independantly, Declan's left hand plucked the SMG from his attacker's nerveless fingers and leveled it at the other two.

Click to reveal..

Hold Attack. Dex + Martial Arts - 3 = 7 dice + 1 Mega

(01:15:36) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 7d10 and gets 9,5,3,6,5,6,9.

(01:15:43) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 1d10 and gets 4.

= 2 succs.

Target held and immobilised. (Pain hold.) Ambidextrous lets the other hand take the gun. If there's a problem, this can be edited.

Dec now has a gun and a body shield

"Drop 'em." he ordered the two guards as they tried to puzzle how to shoot him without riddling their comrade. Declan was astonished at how easy what he had done had been for him. His mind was clear and unclouded for now, but the veteran knew that if he had to kill these men, he'd probably have yet another cluster of nightmares to add to his goddamn library of the things.

[Mr Fox]

The man in Declan's arms struggled but found that he could not get free easily. The other two men held their fire unsure what to do. The senior of the two took his left hand off his weapon and held it out palm toward Declan, "Easy there. No need to get excited." He slowly moved forward as he spoke trying to flank his target. The other man seeing what his fellow was doing mirrored him thinking to get Declan in a crossfire.

[The Red Man]

It might have worked. In high-stress situations, the brain doesn't function as effectively, being prone to making snap decisions. Training and conditioning of the mind for battle helps with this phenomenon, but Declan was a military washout. He should have hesitated, trying to sort through the situation and determine the right course of action. That had been before the enhancement procedure, however. Now, the black-clad guards might as well have held out signposts proclaiming their intent.

Silver eyes narrowed a fraction before the MP-5 in his hand spoke twice, the shots coming so fast that they almost sounded like one strangely elongated gunshot. The guard in his grip flinched at the sudden noise, but was held steady as a bullet ripped into the gun arms of the other two assailants. Even as the ex-soldier fired and the NID guards screamed in pain, he started to move towards the door, angling his captive between him and the others.

Click to reveal..

Taking two actions, firing gun twice. Movement is free (only moving 3 metres cautiously)

First shot - Guard 1: Aiming for gun arm +1 diff.

Burning Mega Dex to lower diff to normal.

Dex & Firearms: 9 dice - 2 (multiple action) + 2 (point blank)

= 9d10

(02:27:52) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 9d10 and gets 5,5,5,8,4,8,7,5,2.

= 3 succs

Damage: Assuming no lethal soak on arm.

7d10 + 2d10 (extra succs) Lethal = 9d10

(02:30:18) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 9d10 and gets 1,1,10,1,2,6,5,2,7

= 2 Lethal to gun arm.

Second shot - Guard 2: Aiming for gun arm +1 diff.

Burning Mega Dex to lower diff to normal.

Dex & Firearms: 9 dice - 3 (multiple action) + 2 (point blank)

= 8d10

(02:32:33) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 8d10 and gets 1,3,3,10,9,1,3,4

= 2 succs

7d10 + 1d10 (extra succs) Lethal = 8d10

(02:34:14) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 8d10 and gets 5,8,1,7,6,4,7,9.

= 4 Lethal to gun arm. (ouch)

Note: Dec is still holding the last guard as cover and is backing slowly out of the room.

[Mr Fox]

Each man's forearm exploded in blood and gore and the guns dropped from their suddenly useless hands. They reacted predictably by pulling the wounded arms to their chests and cradling them with the opposite arms. One of the men decided he had had enough and turned to flee from the room and into the hallway. The other just backed away until he came up against the wall and moved back as far as possible away from the death machine that was holding the other guard.

It took a few seconds but Dec made it into the hall swinging his meat shield in front of him in case other of the NID thugs might be waiting.

((You are now in Round 3, Please continue in the Team Romeo thread.))

[Mr Fox]

Captain Damien Caine lead Kyria and the strange-eyed man named Declan into one of the holding rooms. A comfortable enough room, despite concrete walls and a thick steel door, there were four chairs arranged around a small table. No one else was present, the guards remaining on station outside, a situation for which the Airmen felt incredibly grateful. The strange guy gave them both the willies.

Inside, Kyria guided her (hopefully temporary) ward to a chair and sat beside him, aware that the nova hadn't let go of her hand since the Stargate chamber. Damien sat across from them, still in his assault fatigues, and set up a laptop with quiet efficiency. He looked across at the rescue-ee. The large man just sat there, almost slumped in his seat and staring at the table, head down. Oh well, lets get on with it. Damien thought.

“Hello. I'm Captain Caine of the US Air Force. What's your name?" He asked quietly. The man across from him stayed silent for a long moment, then spoke, his voice quiet.

"Declan." He offered nothing more.

"Declan .... okay. Declan, are you a US citizen?"

"Yes." There was still no change in voice or posture.

Damien made an entry on his laptop then looked at Declan, studying him with obvious concern. "Do you have any military service? If so, what was your ID number and last duty station?"

Declan shifted in his seat, still not looking up as he mechanically rattled off his ID number. "I was... a Ranger. First Sergeant. Stationed in... I don't remember." His free hand tightened into a fist on the tabletop, then relaxed. "I don't want to remember."

Kyria frowned at Declan's last statement, looking concerned, but stayed quiet as Caine nodded and typed some more.

"That's okay. How old are you?"

"29. I'm 29." Declan looked like a totally different man from the killer incarnate that had first stepped out of the NID cell. It was eerie to see such a transformation, but somehow tragic - like someone had broken an elite Raptor and now some of the pieces were missing. Caine entered the age.

"Declan, do you have a home?" He looked to Kyria and shrugged slightly.

"V.A. housing. Los Angeles." Declan shifted again, plainly tense. "Nothing else."

Caine typed furiously for a moment, looking slightly incongruous: a big man hunched over a small high-tech computer. "That's making progress. What were you in the VA for?" Caine motioned Kyria to come around and look at the computer as Declan's service records came up.

Declan felt momentary panic as Kyria started to move away, and hung onto her hand as she circled around the table to look over Caine's shoulder. "I... I was in for stress. Combat stress."

Kyria read over Caine's shoulder as he continued the interview, her expression somber as she matched up the memories she sealed away from Declan with lines of text and pictures. Places, names, after-action reports. They were such dry methods of storing the hell she had seen in the veteran's mind. Declan Perault. That's his full name.

Declan's record listed numerous citations for bravery and good conduct, but he had seen heavy action against insurgents in Afghanistan and started to come apart. The final straw seemed to be a hard-won fight against a Taliban fortress in the mountains. Lots of his platoon-mates died in the assault. There were no enemy survivors.

Caine looked up at Kyria to see if the young lady has anything to add. Sensing a moment, Caine asked "Declan, are you done fighting? Is that why you shipped back stateside? Because I remember you, you know. You were in Randy Cochraines unit. Good people. A lot of good people. Sgt, are you done?" The word 'done' hung in the air.

"I don't remember why... why they sent me home." His head rose for a moment, a flash of silver eyes visible under his hairline before he snapped his gaze back down. "Don't like it... killing. Don't want to kill. They made me kill."

Kyria kept her opinions and her emotions off her face. She hadn't taken so many memories that Declan couldn't think like himself or make decisions, but she wasn't sure how much more fighting he could take. He needed mending time, and doubly so now that he was a nova. She leaned in to Caine, speaking very softly.

“He's, well, kind of broken. He needs time to heal his mind.” She whispered. Caine didn't let anything show on his face as he answered.

“Can we send him back to a less secure psych facility, or into general population? One of us is pretty lethal - soldiers like us, that is. Make us special, that could be expanded ten fold.”

Kyria looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head no. No, this nova was traumatised and therefore unwittingly dangerous to baselines. Caine leaned forward, continuing the interview.

"Who made you kill? Those bas ... people in NID? The place you evacuated from today was an NID facility. We won't make you kill here. Your war is over now." The chill, dull-voiced answer set off warning bells as well as sadness in both Damien's and Kyria's hearts.

"They always want me to kill. Uncle Sam wanted me to kill. The guys in that place... they tried to kill me. I killed them. I was good at killing before... before the light." He looked up at Kyria and Caine. "I heard you, you know. Your voices. I can hear your breathing as if I was right next to you." His eyes were metallic, cold and eerie as hell. "They did something to me."

Kyria glanced between the two of them and sat down next to Declan. So his senses were inhumanly acute. Okay, that was worth remembering.

"The light? What light?" She asked him.

"The light." He dropped his eyes again, his head turning to the side. "It came from this stone thing. They told me to touch it, that it'd fix me, make me better. I wanted to get better, so I did."

Caine swallowed hard, as much from his outrage at how this soldier had been treated as from the look in those weird eyes. "They are not going to pay as much as they deserve," he managed to growl. "Straight up then, Sgt. Declan. We have to keep you here in the SGC - Star Gate Command. Your skills as a soldier and what they did to you means that there is no other facility in the world were you can be safe and be safe to others. I wish I had a better set of options, but I don't. We will try to find a way to ... fix you and make you better. If any place can find the answer, this place can."

Kyria made a face and smiled at him. "It's pretty boring here, except when it's not, but you and I can play cards and stuff. If you want." Her attempt at camaraderie got little reaction. Declan's head dropped lower, quiet dull despair entering his voice.

"I understand. They made me... worse. I'm a monster now. I see how things... people... fit together and how they... come apart." He nodded at Caine without looking up. "Do what you have to do, Captain." The pathetic figure squeezed Kyria's hand. "But if you have to kill me, don't let me see it coming." The plea was heartfelt. Declan was afraid, not of death, but of whatever was in him forcing him to live... at the expense of others.

Kyria squeezed his hand back, surprisingly strongly for such a small woman. "It won't come to that, Declan. I've seen novas in worse condition than you, and we all managed to muddle through. It's going to take time and effort, but like I said before: We're here to help." Damien nodded, leaning forwards.

"You are not a monster, Sgt. There are other people here who have had things done to them. That is why I believe we can beat this. Would you like to meet some other people altered like you, besides the Specialist and myself. I touched a device and it nearly killed me too, but I ended up getting better and I was different. Don't give up on yourself."

Declan looked up at Kyria, then the Captain, momentarily startled out of his depression. "There's others like me?"

Kyria nodded to Declan. "Most of the people who were at the facility are novas now, and Omar and I were born that way. Well, Omar was born human and erupted; I was born a nova. Um, that's not all that important. Yes, there are others like you. You're not alone in this." Declan's eyes went a little wild at the revelation, words tumbling from his mouth in a rush.

"How do you deal with it? Being only able to see people as... sacks of frailty?” Disgust and sadness entered his tone. “Knowing that there's a hundred ways to kill a person, and they can't stop you, and not being able to turn it off!" His voice rose, cracking, his agitation growing.

Kyria blinked and sighed. "Being a nova is different for each person. I can do that, but I can also not. Honestly, it just takes some getting used to and getting your talents under control. Omar might be a better teacher for that. I've never known what it's like to be baseline, so I don't really have any comparison." She took his hands in hers, making sure she had his full attention, "I know it seems impossible, but you'll learn how to control this, you'll get used to how it's different from before. It's just going to take time. Time for healing and time for learning."

Declan visibly calmed down as Kyria caught his attention, his eyes on hers as he listened to her words. He finally nodded and managed a faint smile. "Okay... Okay. If you say so, I believe it."

Caine nodded in agreement. "Sgt. I'm going to suggest to the General that you be reactivated and placed on restricted duty until you and the Specialist feel you are ready to take on another function here in the facility, with the long term goal of returning you to the World. In a very limited way, you will have to deal with non-special people - novas, but I think we would be doing you a disservice by keeping you totally isolated. How does that feel, Sgt? Something you can adjust to?"

Kyria grinned at him. "Hey, it's a better deal than I've got. They still won't let me out of the base." She leaned in mock-conspiratorily, "I think the General thinks I'm going to run away."

Declan looked over at the Captain. "I... Yeah, Captain, sir. I guess I can. I mean, I'm not alone, right?" His smile was faint, but it was hopeful. The smile widened into a near-grin at Kyria's banter. The only off note was that the smile didn't seem to reach his eyes at all. They remained coldly analytical, as though belonging to another.

Caine noted that but managed a snort. "I think he's afraid we'd find you next to the president next time we saw you, Specialist." To Declan. "Hope moves you forward. Now later I'm going to have some papers for you to sign and initial. I'll have Specialist Donnighal bring them by since you two have a rapport."

"Now Specialist, could you take the Sgt. to the mess hall for some food. I suggest you go back to your quarters and eat there." Caine saluted Declan. "You are dismissed."

Declan stood up and saluted in turn, feeling an echo of his old self. "Sir, yes sir."

Kyria nodded to Damien and left with Declan, wondering just what she'd gotten herself into now.

_________________________

I know that spades are the swords of a soldier.

I know that the clubs are weapons of war.

I know that diamonds mean money for this art.

But that's not the shape of my Heart.

- Sting Shape of my Heart

[The Red Man]

He had been staying mainly in his quarters, coming out to the mess hall to collect food 4 to 5 times a day, then retreating to the safety of his own room to eat. He had more or less adjusted to Kyria not always being with him by day 2, and was starting to get restless in body and mind. The world was dulling around him, losing it's crystal clarity and sharp colours. He realised that some part of him needed action, to feel his pulse pound, and the thought vaguely disturbed him.

What if I need to kill? What if I can't stop it? he questioned himself, but then remembered the breakout. I didn't kill anyone. I don't have to. But I need to do something, or I'll go nuts! His eyes narrowed as they looked around his quarters. Hmm.

Acting on an impulse, he shifted the furniture against the walls, leaving himself about 10 square feet of room. Slipping off his socks and shoes, he stepped into the center of the clear space. Forms and patterns filled his mind, a catalogue of implanted memories and skills that were somehow familiar to him. His feet shifted, his arms moved, his body twisted and curved in a single, sinuous motion as the ex-Ranger, who had never practiced anything more than basic Army self-defence techniques, began to step through a complicated Pa Kua form. His body dipped, swayed and changed direction, arms and legs moving in perfect synchronisation in a beautiful, deadly dance.

((OOC: For folks that are curious, it looks like this Fast forward to about 5:18 and you'll see what I mean.))

He moved faster and faster, the motions coming into his head with speed and clarity, each movement potentially branching into two dozen others as he began a series of improvisations on the regular forms, analysing their weaknesses and improving on them. His hands flashed out, twisting and turning in blurringly fast and elegant circles as his feet quickstepped in fast, easily-changeable patterns, and Declan couldn't keep the grin from his face.

Holy shit! I'm a fuckin' kung-fu master now?!

[z028 Riley]

Kyria had been on her way to the gym for lack of any other type of interesting physical activity to do on the base. She'd decided to swing by a couple of people's rooms to see if anyone wanted to be a work-out partner; Declan was her first stop.

She walked in about halfway through his routine and had stayed quiet in the doorway while he finished. Wow, he's really good. I guess he's starting to recover, if he's going as stir-crazy as me. Aloud she echoed her thoughts, "Nice. I was gonna head over to the gym for a workout. Wanna spar instead?"

She grinned at him, an infectious expression.

[The Red Man]

Declan's proud grin slipped, becoming a worried frown. "Uh... I don't know, Kyria." He wasn't even breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling only slightly under the military-issue green t-shirt. "I know you're like me and stuff. A 'nova'. But... What if I lose it? I could hurt you, maybe even..." He didn't finish that thought.

His metallic eyes were dead and cold, studying the young woman like a target, but the rest of Declan's features were animated, mirroring the obvious concern in his voice.

[z028 Riley]

Kyria laced her hands behind her back and put on her most thoughtful expression. "Well, let's think this through, then. There's several options. The first one is that you stay locked up in your room and slowly turn into the Mole Man with powers of 'staring blankly at walls' and 'smelling like various kinds of dirt'." She crinkled her nose at him, playful. "That doesn't really seem like you, or like a nice thing to do to your visitors."

"Option 2." Some of the playfulness left her demeanor. "You do leave the Mole Cave, but instead of sparring with me now you wait until they let you leave the SGC or until they put you on mission. Someone or something startles you or attacks you, and you do lose it." She crinkled her nose again, but without the playfulness. "That doesn't sound like it'd end well for anyone."

She stepped into the room, her guards waiting respectfully outside with his own. "Option 3. You come spar with me and you learn how to control yourself in a safer environment with a partner that's pretty damn hard to kill." She took one of his hands and wrapped it around her upper arm just under the sleeve of her "Be Lazy! Smile!" t-shirt, tightening both their hands until he could hear her bones creaking in protest. She pulled their hands away and he could see the bruise already forming. In front of his eyes it went from blue to black to purple to yellow and then faded. The whole process took less than a minute.

She watched him as she did this. It hadn't been her plan to work on his functionality today, but the opportunity was there. Her father had taught her never to ignore the fortuitous. It didn't always mean it was trustworthy, just that it was usually important. "So, whaddya say?"

[The Red Man]

He couldn't help it: he laughed. A rusty sound, to be sure. More a choke than a full belly laugh. But it was a laugh nonetheless as he examined the smooth skin of her arm, then looked upwards to her face.

"Alright then, you win." He shook his head, a slight grin curving his lips. "I'll try to let you know if I'm losing it, and if that happens, stop. From what I can tell, what's inside of me won't care about you if you're not attackin'."

He left his shoes behind and padded after Kyria as she gave a beaming "Yay! I win!" smile and led the way out of his cell. He moved without noise, and after walking a short distance he realised that she did too, even to his sensitive ears. By contrast, the four guards following them sounded like a regiment marching on gravel.

The gym wasn't too far from the living quarters, and at this time of day there was a surplus of free space and equipment. A few off-duty personnel peered curiously at the slight-built redhead and the grizzled-looking older man as they stepped onto the practice mat. Some of them, recognising two of the 'specials' that were circulating around the base rumormill, sat up from their own workouts and watched.

Declan ignored them, focusing on the figure in front of him. He smiled at Kyria, a little nervousness returning to him as he felt the imminent competition. Strangely, even though his mind was already starting to throw up attack and defense patterns, he didn't see her as a frail weak thing like the guards present. In fact she was beautiful, a fact his accelerating mental processes catalogued and stored for future reference without slowing down at all.

Dressed in borrowed BDU trousers and a t-shirt, he started to circle the edge of the mat, not yet adopting any form or stance from the thousands flashing through his reflex memory.

"You sure jeans are practical for this?" he asked with a small grin. "Not that I'm complainin', mind... They just seem a bit restrictive."

[z028 Riley]

Kyria's grin only got wider. She was going to get a lecture from General Oneill or Dr. Jackson for keeping secrets again, but this was just too much fun. Her clothes rippled on her, the color, pattern, even texture running together and then reforming into a sking-tight black turtleneck unitard. Only her hands, feet, and face were left exposed and she quickly bound her hair up in a pony-tail to finish the effect.

She turned a full circle to give the room a chance to look, "Better?"

[The Red Man]

His feet slowed in their pacing as his eyes widened. "How the hell-? Okay... Um. Yeah, that's better. Maybe somethin' a little, uh, baggier might be better still?" Kyria's answering grin told Declan exactly how likely it was she was going to make things that easy on him. He swallowed nervously. Her body was, well, perfect. And in a skin-tight costume like that, it was obvious. He tried to focus.

Curiously, he found that he had never lost focus. While his forebrain had been drooling on itself, Dec's body had slipped ever so slightly into a defensive posture, his footfalls still certain as he padded in a slow circle around Kyria.

"Okay. Ladies first." Declan winked at her, his funk of the last couple of days very far away right now as he extended a hand towards her, palm up, and made the classic chop-socky movie 'come hither' sign.

[z028 Riley]

The room had taken on that hush that meant not only had everyone else stopped what they were doing, but that all attention was on the two at the sparring mats. Kyria took up her own posture, something a little strange to Declan's mind. He tried to pin down what fighting style she'd been trained in from her movements, but couldn't find an exact match. For several long moments they stood there, taking each other in. Then she moved.

It started slow - for them. To the Airmen watching it seemed like the were still and then they were letting loose on each other with a vengeance.

Punch. Parry. Grapple. Break. Kick. Block. Grapple. Throw. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Declan was larger and older than Kyria, but she seemed to have the advantage. She worked him into a corner and then pinned him to the mat, grinning like a cat with a canary. "Tap out?"

[The Red Man]

He groaned under his breath. The movements hadn't been too fast for him. She was fast and strong, but he was equally matched to her, with the advantage of reach. He had underestimated her sorely, holding back somewhat so he wouldn't hurt her. And now he was in a pin, her face grinning at him from a foot away as she kept his shoulders planted to the mat. He closed his eyes, then opened them and grinned back at her.

"Tap out my ass."

With an explosive push, he planted one hand on the ground and thrust the two of them upwards a full ten feet. Kyria let out a slight squeak of surprise as they came apart in mid-air, losing her hold on him and twisting her body to land feet-first.

No sooner had her bare feet touched the mat than he was on her, turning his landing into a forward flip that ended in a vicious spinning capoeira kick. She flung herself backwards in a somersault with hardly any effort, his feet scything through the space she had been standing in with an audible whoosh. Kyria landed again, dropping into her defensive stance as Declan finished the spinning, almost breakdance-like move and came up facing her, his form changing once more, adopting a closed-in, compact stance reminiscent of Muay Thai. The two of them shared a grin, then moved on each other.

The onlookers gawped, more coming into the gym as word spread through the base. Some of the Airmen who were familiar with martial arts just stared, never having seen a display like this. The two fighters didn't move back from one another, didn't pause. Feint was followed by countermove followed by counter-countermove in a dazzlingly intricate dance as Kyria and Declan's bodies seemed sometimes to blend together, then sway apart.

For Kyria, it was like being attacked by 15 different styles at once. A shin-sweep was followed by an open-palm to her chest that she barely deflected. Her own alien style was dissected and adapted to with a speed she was familiar with as she settled firmly into the rhythm of the fight. It seemed that this time, her opponent was trying harder. Declan's cold dead eyes were a contrast with the look of concentration on his face and the grin playing around his mouth as he locked forearms with her, spinning his up and out in a flourish that took her left guard wide.

Kyria saw the opening and went for it, her right arm shooting down to his hip as she half-turned, her leg sliding between his as she readied the trip-and-pin. Too late she felt his balance shift under her hand, felt her left shoulder grasped firmly and her feet leave the mat in an upward arc. The air whooshed from her lungs as she hit the mat flat on her back. There was a complicated knot of struggling, and then Declan was grinning at her, her arms trapped under his and his knees wedged painfully into her armpits.

"Someone say somethin' about tappin' out?" He laughed, and his eyes shone now as they looked down at her.

[Mr Fox]

Applause sounded as Declan pinned Kyria. Not applause for him specifically, but for the fight itself. There were a good twenty or more airmen and marines in the room now and they all looked eager to see more. Even the marines looked impressed. Before Declan or Kyria could continue a hush fell over the gathering.

General O'Neill walked in and looked around and around the room people began coming to attention and saluting. Declan jumped up freeing his temporary prisoner and joined in with the others. Kyria too got to her feet feeling a little like a teen caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. The General did not have a smile on his face, but neither did he look angry. He did frown as he saluted and said, "At Ease."

Then he looked back to the two on the mat, "Well, don't stop on my account. I came to see what was causing all my airmen to rush away from the mess hall." As he spoke he got a mischievous grin on his face and gestured for the pair to carry on. The airmen and marines laughed and gave a bit of a cheer before turning their own attention back to the mat.

[z028 Riley]

Kyria blinked at the applause and the grin from the General. She was pretty sure it was the first actually approving response she'd ever gotten from him, and it kinda freaked her out.

Well, better give the man what he wants.

She turned back to Declan and bowed, murmuring something that sounded close to Japanese, then took up her defensive stance and motioned to Declan. "Your turn."

[Adrian Moss]

Damien ushered Olivia into the room, using his rank to get them a good spot. He kept a hand on her shoulder and whispered into her ear.

"Kyria came from an alternate Earth a few weeks back, as you may have known. She was with me on my extraction team that brought the other Specials back here. She's quite a soldier."

"The big man is Sgt. Perault, first name Declan. He pretty much rescued himself, but came back with us. He's a highly tuned combatant, but no one knows how good."

"This should be a good match, but my money is on Sgt. Perault. He's damn fast and a bit stronger, I'll wager. I don't think Specialist Donnighal's finesse can overcome him ... yet."

[z-Olivia Jenings-Izumi]

Hand on the shoulder is a socially possessive gesture. Is he socially possessing me? And do I object to that? She puzzled over that as she watched the impossibly fast and graceful movements. "Offhand, Captain, I'd guess he's a very good combatant. His reflexes are impressive. But I think Specialist Donnighal has a strength overlooked - she's a young woman determined to do well." And she's fighting a man while wearing a catsuit.

She decided to allow the hand to remain. The social repercussions might be interesting. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to have a friend in Caine, and shrugging off his touch would be awkward.

[The Red Man]

A faintly air of unease rippled through the watching 'un-altered' humans as Declan looked around following the General's invitation to continue. His eyes were bright and cold, unsettling as they analysed everyone present. Even the General's grin faded a tiny bit as those silver orbs fixed on him, feeling uncomfortably as though he were in the sights of some living weapon. Perhaps the eeriest part was that Declan's face was animated at odds with the eyes, smiling somewhat sheepishly as he turned toward Kyria once more. He was breathing a bit harder, but was far from tired. Kyria, likewise, didn't seem to be at all weary from the bout, which the Sergeant realised had lasted nearly 15 minutes. Where the hell did the time go? He shrugged and winked at the girl before him. Okay, so they want a show...

He pressed his hands together, moving them up and over in a large circle as he took a half-turning step to the side. He began to weave his hands in broad circular patterns as he stalked like a cat around his opponent. In a flowing, sinuous motion he ducked, swayed and changed direction in an eyeblink, circling widdershins now. His moves were impeccable, his balance eeriely perfect. The crowd murmured.

Kyria's hands came up as she recognised trouble: the fluid, malleable forms of Eight Triagram Boxing. She watched him carefully, her own mind seeking the weakness in the patterns of shifting, changing movement. She was ready, therefore, when Declan abruptly changed direction again, swaying forward as he struck with the speed of a snake.

Kyria backstepped and dropped low, catching Declans left fist in her hand and bringing her other hand up to grasp his wrist. She found that hand blocked as the former Ranger pulled hard with his trapped hand, tugging her forward even as an open-palm struck her solidly in the shoulder. She went with it, releasing her grip at the last split-second and rolling back away from the blow.

Her shoulder ached slightly where he had struck it, but Kyria had little time to dwell on that. She spent the next five minutes blocking, twisting and dodging, furiously trying to stay one step ahead of the constant, unceasing flow of precise attacks that seemed to come from all angles. A human combatant would already have been beaten: hell, a human combatant would probably have been hospitalised from that 'love-tap' Declan had given her shoulder, whereas she had already healed up.

To the onlookers, it wasn't at all plain that Specialist Donnighal was getting the worst of the fight. The young woman was putting up an amazing fight, using every ounce of her ability to the fullest, and the Airmen, Marines and civilians started cheering at every near-miss, every successful block.

Kyria tried to gain control of the flow, but every trap was countered, every counterattack nearly became a defeat. Declan's face was a mask of focus, and she could practically see the mind behind those silver eyes breaking her formidable defense down to a puzzle to be solved. Declan's alterations had made him capable of treating intensive combat as a high speed game of chess, and he was playing with two queens.

Okay. Time to throw in a random variable. Kyria let out a sharp cry of pain and fell sideways. Abruptly, the cheering died away, and Declan stopped his relentless assault. The mask of concentration fell away, and he came to one knee beside her. "You okay? Where's it hurt?"

Kyria smiled wickedly and arched her body upwards with amazing speed, sweeping her legs towards Declan's neck in a scissoring motion. Quick as she was, the veteran was fast enough to get his hands up between her legs and his throat, his fingers closing on her thighs and pushing them away. They stayed like that for a long moment, a tableau of competing forces, before Dec rolled backwards, flipping Kyria up and over. The teen performed a neat midair roll and landed on her feet, grinning widely as Declan flipped up onto his feet, shaking his head and laughing.

"Close, but no cigar, kid." He wagged a finger at her, smiling his appreciation for the attempt.

[z028 Riley]

The match looked like something from an anime: the grizzled military veteran and the young fiery-haired ninja-girl moving at incredible speeds and ignoring gravity when it was convenient for them.

She grinned back at him, "You'd be surprised how often that works. Especially when you're 10 and you father is..." Her grin slipped a little and she decided not to finish the sentence. She was having fun, and if she was ever going to get passed her upbringing then she needed to stop bringing it up.

"My turn?"

She didn't wait for him to respond but sprang at him. Defense was no good with him: he knew too much, was just as fast as her, and had the advantage of size and reach. So she tried for sweeps and throws, anything to keep him off-balance and unable to really use those advantages.

They'd been fighting for almost twenty minutes strait now (minus the slight pause for the General) and neither had broken out into more than a light sweat. It looked like this could go on for a while.

[Adrian Moss]

"Well, we are about the limit of my endurance," Damien whispers to Olivia. "Would you like to practice some time."

Kyria looked good in her catsuit, really good, but he found himself suddenly and surpringly thinking of Olivia in something like that. He found that disturbing, but not because Olivia wasn't good looking, but because he wasn't used to thinking of a comrade in arms like that. She was ... she was, interesting and intelligent - probably the smartest person he had ever met. He found himself enjoying the match less and stealing looks down at Olivia more.

[z-Olivia Jenings-Izumi]

"Are you serious?" Olivia asked, looking over her shoulder, though not when he was stealing a look at her. Her silken shirt slid under his fingers and her hair brushed the back of his hand. "I can't do that, not even close. I got the basic training that the civilians all get. So if you put me on a mat, you'll wipe the floor with me. It won't even be entertaining to others, unless they're that special kind of jerk who enjoys seeing a woman dominated and beaten."

She looked back to the fight, shaking her head. Again, her black hair tickled his hand as she said, "I'll stick to watching, thanks."

[Forge]

Lt. Wright had watched the pair enter with candid interest, all too intrigued with what the little girl thought she was going to do against the Beast this Seargent had become. As the gymnasium filled with people, Lt. Wright maintained a vantage from the back. Height did have its advantages occasionally.

After the battle had ensued and the brief intermission from the General, Lt. Wright thought,

Well, she's good, I'll give'r that...but all that kung-fuckery won't do her a damn bit a good against a Staff weapon.

Vinny snorted to himself as he crossed his arms. A brief smile flitted across his face as he rolled the cigar to the other side of his mouth and side-stepped a bit to continue to watch the sparring.

[Adrian Moss]

The match had been going on for quite a while and looked like it could go on for a while longer. That realization caused a voice to pop up in his head. He was bored. He was used to seeing men flexing their muscles in all kinds of displaces while she was trying to read something of real interest.

Those weren't his memories though. They were someone elses and he could easily figure out who. Maybe Olivia was equally bored (except he wasn't bored?).

"Olivia, now that you are out an about," he whispered, "is there some other place you would rather visit? Maybe your old lab?"

Damien felt equal parts ease and unease as he spoke those words. Thinking like a woman was confusing to interpret and he wasn't sure he was getting the memories and ghosts of desires right.

[Omar]

Omar had finished a long conversation with General O'Neil and several of his staff and had arrived in the gym for a workout. He saw that several of the new arrivals were watching Kyria and another spar. She seemed to be doing well, though he'd only been there a few minutes. After 5 minutes or so, he turned away from their match and to the free weights. He was not in the mood for sparring. He wanted to push some iron.

He began to assemble a bar with irn weights until it pushed over 800 lbs. It was the max weight that the metal bar could handle. Omare began sets of arm curls, tricep pushes, military presses and butterflies. Unfortunately, it was the only weight training he could do outside of deadlifting the General's limo. Omar had given them the specs for machines that would accomodate him and others with extreme levels of strength, but the manufacture and delivery of the hydraulic weights system would take several more weeks.

[z-Olivia Jenings-Izumi]

Olivia considered, biting her lip. She could stay and watch a fight unlike anything she'd ever seen, or she could have someone with potentially higher clearance than herself take her somewhere interesting.

Life was full of difficult choices.

"No, I've been there once to get my things, and I don't need to return." That was true; she'd never forget it now, just as she would never forget the sting of the razor cut she'd gotten this morning, or the pain of becoming a Specialist. She didn't forget anything anymore, and it was both a wondrous gift and a never ending curse. Whatever she saw, she'd see forever. So she considered a moment, trying to think of some place she wanted to see forever.

A place came to mind, but she paused, wondering if she was presuming too much. "I haven't been to see the galaxy map yet. I don't suppose I could see that, if you can get me in." She gave him a smile that was only a little coy. "So, do you have the connections to show me the known universe?"

[Adrian Moss]

"Sure thing. It falls well within the purview of what you may be doing here."

Shifting his weight around, he began leading them out of the packed room, leading the Doctor by the hand. The press of bodies relented and they were once more outside. Caine stopped to get his bearings with only a momentary pause. He took that moment to let go of her hand.

With a grin,

"I've only been up to Astrogation once and then on my first tour of the facility. This way is quickest."

As they moved through the hallway,

"Thanks for the idea. I missed out on a good bit when I came here the first time. My mind was so set on the Star Gate and what I was being asked to do. Hell of a time. I was fresh from the War and this was a lot to look forward to. It seems like so long ago now, but its only been a year."

[z-Olivia Jenings-Izumi]

"A year?" Olivia thought about that. "So did you run into the Artifact immediately, or did that mission come later? How long have you been a Specialist? And what war? Iraq? Afghanistan?"

She quietly wondered why he hadn't been back to Astrogation since arriving. It had been the first thing she'd dreamed of seeing upon her learning of its existence. A map to the stars! What could be more wondrous? Her biggest sorrow about the whole job was that she couldn't show her family. She thought of what Wacki-Z's expression would be if he could see it and smiled. While he wasn't as scholarly as her, he still had a desire to see amazing things. Their parents had instilled that deeply in them. It was what had lead her here, after she couldn't shake the thought that Dr. Daniel Jackson was right, that something had influenced the growth of the Ancient Civilizations.

[The Red Man]

Originally Posted By: Kyria Thea

They'd been fighting for almost twenty minutes strait now (minus the slight pause for the General) and neither had broken out into more than a light sweat. It looked like this could go on for a while.

And it did. For thirty more minutes Kyria and Declan continued to push the pace, trying to out-think and out-fight each other at speeds that made the human's watching dizzy. The combat moved into the realm of sweeps, trips, grapples and throws, and threatened to range off the mat on more than one occasion. By unspoken agreement, the two knew that the first one to leave the mat lost, and each was determined that it would not be them.

Kyria flipped Declan, using the large man's own momentum to send him headlong, but the soldier somehow twisted and grabbed her hand as he went, flipping further around and twisting to land on his feet with feline grace. He pulled her in towards him, and the red-haired teen went with the move, ducking at the last minute and going into a slide, her legs scissoring his.

Dec let go and planted his hands as he fell backwards, kicking his legs up and over his head, taking Kyria up with them. She spun in the air and managed to roll to one side before hitting the ground, narrowly missing a handstand kick that parted the air an inch to the side of her head. She growled under her breath, knowing that he was trying to put her on the defensive again, and rather than backing away to recover her balance dove forward instead in a flying tackle worthy of a star footballer, as Declan flipped up onto his feet, facing away from her.

She hit him as he spun towards her, her shoulder impacting Declan's iron-hard stomach and the force of her momentum sending both of them flying ten feet through the air. They were still grappling as they flew, their limbs blurring against each other in mid-air as they strove for a hold, their bodies twisting together. They weren't aware of the shouts and cheers of the audience: their focus was purely on each other, and as the ground rushed up to meet them Declan and Kyria's eyes met for a long moment. They both grinned.

They hit the floor with a loud wooden thudding sound, about 2 feet off the edge of the mat, and skidded into the crowd, who shouted as they dove out of the way of the still-struggling figures. As they came to rest against one of the exercise benches, Declan grinned down at Kyria. He had both her arms bound across her chest with one of his and was atop her with no impediment to further attack with his free hand. Kyria's smile was no less pleased: she had her legs wrapped tightly around the Sergeant's waist, giving her leverage and, with a good squeeze, could put a serious hurt on him, nova or not. Slowly each realised the advantage the other held, and as their eyes met again, lively blue to dead silver, they both started laughing.

"Draw?" Declan offered, standing up easily with Kyria's hands still trapped and her legs still scissoring around his waist.

[z028 Riley]

Kyria nodded and let her legs drop to the floor, taking his hand to stand up. "Though I think you would have won, eventually."

Her smile was genuine and pleased. They'd both gotten into the mock combat, but he'd never lost his control. He didn't pull back or ask to stop, instead he'd lost himself in the enjoyment of the exercise. That was, Kyria hoped, a very good sign.

It then sunk in just how much of an audience they had. Kyria smiled at the Airmen watching them, her sparring bravado now turned to mild embarrassment in the face of so much unexpected attention. She decided to focus on one person at a time. "So General, what did you think?"

[Mr Fox]

General O'Neill had an unreadable expression on his face when Kyria looked over at him. He did slowly nod though as if considering what he had just seen and fitting the pieces of a puzzle together in his head.

"Very good Specialist Donnigal. You too Sgt. Perault. Very good work alright." He was quiet for a moment then nodded more to himself as if coming to a decision than to you.

He spoke louder for the room to hear, "I will see you both tomorrow morning at 08:00 hours in the briefing room. That goes for everyone that was rescued from the NID facility and those who have been on medical for the last two weeks. Spread the word."

[z028 Riley]

Kyria blinked, wondering what had just happened, but nodded. "Um, yes sir."

She toweled off and rippled her clothes to include a pair of jeans and black lace-up boots. She caught Declan's eye, "Shall we make the rounds? And then lunch."

[The Red Man]

Some of the audience were murmuring, other were cheering and coming forward to congratulate Kyria on a fine sparring session.

No-one approached him.

Oh they applauded, and some nodded hastily at him as he looked around, but no-one came to clap him on the shoulder. They were awed by his skill, but there was little admiration. No-one shook his hand. The Airmen and Marines kept their distance from him even as they clustered around Kyria, the nova girl laughing at the amazed compliments.

The dead eyes that stared out from Declan's face reflected no emotion, no feeling despite the sense of overwhelming isolation that swept through the Sergeant in that moment. His shoulders slumped as he realised that they were disturbed by him, that the simple camaraderie that he had taken for granted in his old life would not be forthcoming here. He started to turn away...

And then she spoke to him as her clothes changed once more. He looked round at her curiously, then smiled as he nodded, the happy expression not touching his eyes. "Sure." The crowd of Kyria's admirers parted like wheat before a scythe as he stepped towards her and they left the gym. "So where we headed first?"

[Rorx]

As they go past the weights section near the exit a man in standard BDU trousers and t-shirt steps up towards them.

"Sgt, Specialist, congratulations on a wonderful demonstration." He swaps the 100kg bar he was holding to the other hand so that he can offer his hand to them both.

"Gwyn Jones, I guess I'm another Specialist, or at least hope to be come tomorrow. I was hoping Sgt that I might impose on you to consider giving me some training?"

Unlike the assembled Airmen Gwyn seem quite capable of meeting the Sgt's eyes, although you can tell it does still make him slightly uncomfortable.

[The Red Man]

"Uh, yeah. Sure!" Declan smiled as he paused shook Gwyn's hand. "We can go over your background and stuff later, figure out what you need. If we're going to be active in the field, then hell, it'll help you keep you and us alive, right?" If the prospect of seeing action disturbed the vet, and it did, he did a good job of hiding that fact.

"We'll talk later, buddy. But got a lunch date right now." He grinned good-humoredly. "Can't keep a lady waitin', and that." He clapped Jones on the shoulder. "See ya at the briefin' tomorrow, Gwen."

"Gwyn." The British nova said, smiling slightly. Dec turned back. "Hunh?"

"It's Gwyn, not Gwen."

"Oh." Declan looked abashed. "Uh.. Yeah. Gwyn. Sorry." He nodded an apology and hastily beat his retreat alongside Kyria.