History Class: First Impressions

It was standing room only on the transport that was bringing the newest batch of ODST recruits to their new training post. Betty couldn't see much beyond the large frame of her best friend standing in front of her, not that there was much to see anyway. She wasn't fresh out of bootcamp here, so Betty was used to all this too close for comfort shit; it came with the territory when you had to fight in close quarters with a handful of people you trusted with your life and who trusted you with theirs. There were even a number of guys present on this transport whom she'd fought and bled with, who knew she had every right in being here. However, there were an equal majority who couldn't see above or beyond her tits, even as tightly bound as they were.

When the transport jostled yet again, Betty's jaw muscles clenched and unclenched as she bit back a murderous urge when the Marine behind her used the bump as an excuse to grind up against her for the umpteenth time. And, unless she was mistaken, did he just smell her too?

"Hey Grossman, you owe me 50 bucks!" The Marine behind her shouted back over his shoulder at another Marine.

"Oh, yeah, Hands?" Grossman responded. "What the fuck for?" Hands? Betty has studied the roster, wanting to know what type of friction she was gonna encounter signing onto this unit and the name Hands didn't ring any bells. Though there was a "Pfc. Hans Hanson." She didn't dare glance back to catch the name on his fatigues though. Betty didn't think she wanted to know where he might have gotten the nickname Hands either; though judging solely on how many times he'd attempted to grope her in the past half hour, she had a pretty good guess.

"Vanilla and honeysuckle." Hands responded.

"Bull shit!" Came Grossman's reply.

As vague as their statements might have sounded to those not privy to the two Marines thoughts, a sick feeling twisted Betty's gut; vanilla and honeysuckle was the scent of her body lotion. Just cause she couldn't go out and get a mani-pedi at the corner store anymore and had developed quite the callouses on her palms and ankles as a result, that didn't mean she couldn't try to take care of the rest of her skin. Just cause she chose to fight and play with the big boys didn't mean she had to look, feel or smell like one.

"Did I call it or did I call it?"

"Ah, fuck you. You probably peaked in her bag!"

"Whatever..." Hands rolled his eyes and smirked. "Hey, I wonder if she tastes as good as she smells?" Hands had practically spoken that phrase right into her ear, however the rest of the cabin had heard it too and a slew of laughter, jibes and cat calls ushered from the company.

Just when the man was contemplating finding out the answer to his question, though, he was stopped mid lean by a certain hand gripping like a vise on his crotch, stealing the air from his lungs, making his mouth open in a soundless gasp.

"You even think about it," Betty spoke harshly, but firmly between clenched teeth. "You'll be talking like a girl for a month." She applied a more pressure just before she released him.

Hanson let go of the support rail he'd been holding onto just so he could grip his manhood with both hands, in the meantime managing to gasp out an insult or two aimed directly at her

Freddy, ever the gentleman and defender was about to shout some insult or other back at the man for his inappropriate behavior, but one warning look and a subtle shake of the head from Betty made him bite his tongue. Fred recognized that look for what it was and felt sorry for whatever vengeance she may be planning for the man later.

Hands Hanson was a man of little to no respect for women. Over-inflated ego. Ya know, one of those gym every day, trying to overcompensate for a lack somewhere else, macho schmuck types? She'd seen his record, which was extensive. He was a good soldier, but if she planned on making it through this unit, he'd probably be the one she'd have to make a lesson out of somehow. She might even have to save his life somehow before he'd ever even think about accepting her as an equal. But... She was used to having to prove herself in this business. It was the path she'd chosen and she'd be damned if she'd let some high on himself egomaniac ruin it for her. She'd prove to him just like she'd proved to everyone else who'd ever doubted her that she was meant to do this. She was meant to help people. to fight this fight. She was good at it.

Marcus headed out of the breifing room to see the newest shuttle arriving. "Well...Let's see what's comong off the boat," he said to himself as he made his way toward the parade ground, mind remembering his own experience as a raw recruit fresh out of Marine boot camp. Lcpl Masters trotted up to Marcus.

"Sir, ATC is reporting the the shuttle has landed." Marcus nodded and looked back

"Thank you Lance Corporal. You know the drill by now." Masters nods "Aye, aye sir."

Masters then heads to the transport trucks as Marcus prepares himself for the fresh batch of recruits that about to come out of those transports. The major then walks up to Marcus and pats Marcus on the shoulder.

"Just relax Marcus. Let me put them at ease. You can step in and introduce them to Hell when I'm done." He gave Marcus a reassuring grin and waited for thr recruits with Marcus.

Marcus looked over his shoulder and spotted the transport trucks.

"Transports are coming in from our six, Major." Marcus then looked to the Major.

The Major then gave Marcus a nod as the transport trucks parked and waited for the order to discharge their troops inside. The Major then gave a nod and the transports opened up.

When the truck finally came to a stop, Betty was anxious, not just at the thought of being able to get out of this sardine can, but at finally meeting her new COs and the start of training. Even Fred had called her nuts for being excited. Don't get him wrong he was all about being prepared, but from what he's heard the Master Seargent was a real hardass. He wouldn't go easy on her just because she was a woman like some CO's might.

Truth be told, though, that had been what Betty was looking forward to the most. She hated gender games and double standards. She'd shaved her head just like everyone else in preparation for this trip. She didn't want any special treatment. She needed to know if she could handle and survive this just like everyone else. Sometimes that even meant she had to work twice as hard as everyone else.

When the back door finally opened to let the Marines out, a man in full fatigues ordered them to file out, drop their bags by the truck and line up in formation for inspection by their new commanding officers. Granted the way he ordered them wasn't nearly that polite sounding, and he shouted and barked at them more than anything. However, unless you did happen to be one of the rare cases that just stepped outta boot camp, you would be used to this by now.

Betty filed out with the rest of the men, all of them moving at double time. She dropped her duffel where indicated and found among the ranks. Betty immediately stood at full attention as ordered, though she leveled a death glare on Hanson when he bumped her shoulder when he moved past her. The back of his skull was probably left tingling from her murderous gaze.

When the staff sergeant called attention she once more took up her stalwart pose, awaiting to be addressed and inspected by her new COs. Truth be told she did as much research as she could about them as well, at least whatever she could glean from their public profiles, which unfortunately hadn't been much. Still, she knew enough to know that both were good men, excellent soldiers and leaders. She would be proud to serve under men of their caliber. Betty was definitely one who tried to learn and lead by example. Hopefully she might pick up a thing or two beyond how to get her ass kicked by the extensive training she was about to willingly endure. Oorah!

The Major had Marcus stand and face the crowd of trainiees filing out of the troop transports and lining up into formation and at attention. Marcus made a mental note of thanks to SSgt Harris for getting the greenhorns into shape so early, so fast. Marcus stood silent as the crowd of recruits looked around, clearly unsure of what to do. The Major made a slight nod to Marcus, giving him the cue to get the recruits' attention.

Marcus then barked "Detail ATTEN-SHUN!" and then the recruits snaped and faced forward, and now completely focused as if they were jolted by an electric shock.

Marcus then looked to the Major, who then started into his introductory speech. He saw some dubious looks from a couple of recruits, but Marcus knew that despite the Major's height; the Major could halt a battalion with just his voice. And Marcus knew that just from being around the guy for over a year and a half.

The Major barked "Good afternoon boys, and welcome to the Orbital Drop Shock Trooper Training Camp. I am Major Martin, and my cheif Drill Instructor here is Master Sergeant Murand. As of right now, this will be your home for a considerable time. That is, if you have the will to survive the training. You came here fully willing to become the Marine Corps. elite shock troopers, and hopefully, many of you will make it. I cannot guarantee all of you will make it, and we will welcome those that do make it."

The Major then paused, seeing that the recruits stilll had his attention. "As of right now, your current rank means nothing. So if you have a problem, you will address either of us by our ranks or by 'sir'. Once I am done, you will go to your assigned barracks and be placed under Murand's control for the duration of the training here. I wish you the best of luck recruits."

The Major then left the stage, giving a knowing grin to Marcus. Marcus then looked toward the recruits, and barked "You heard the Major, report to your assigned barracks block, DOUBLE TIME! MOVE IT MARINES! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"

Marcus then watched as the recruits half marched, half scrambled to their barracks as Drill Instructors took Marcus's cue and gave them their barracks assignments. As soon as all the recruits had filed toward the barracks, he gathered the Field Instructors together with him.

Marcus looked towards all the Instructors around him and stated "You know the drill, gentelmen. Give these Marines some hell."

The instructors nodded gave a salute and left in the direction of the barracks blocks. Marucs smiled and followed. Whether those recruits knew it or not, tonight would start their trip through hell.

When the MsSgt called attention, she snapped to and listened carefully to what the Major said. She couldn't help but smirk when the Major addressed them as boys and hadn't even thought of accounting for the lone female in their ranks.

As the Major continued his speech, Betty couldn't help but reflect a little on what he was saying. These classes had a very high drop-out rate, unfortunately. So, as Betty had looked around and wondered exactly who would go and who would stay, she desperately hoped she would be one of the smaller percentage who could make the cut. Some of these guys, like her best friend, were absolutely massive. Granted, she was no spring chicken herself, but she wouldn't put it past a majority of them to be able to bench press her and then some.

When the Major concluded his speech wishing them luck, Betty saluted the Major with the rest of the company. Only breaking form when the MsSgt barked at them to move. The men moved like fires were under their asses as they collected their gear and checked in with the Staff Sergeant to get their barracks assignments. Only problem was when Betty moved to collect her gear, it was nowhere to be seen, despite having distinct memory of setting it right where she was standing.

"C'mon, chere! We have to move!" Freddy prompted her.

Betty nodded. "I just gotta find my bag. You go on!" Freddy gave her a confused look and she shoved his arm to encourage him to go. There was no sense in them both being reprimanded for her gear going missing.

When everyone else had collected their gear and nothing was left, she clenched her teeth and ushered a few silent curses before she made her way over to the staff sergeant. The man gave her one glance over. "What do you think this is, Corporal, the Ritz Carlton?"

"No, Staff Sergeant!"

"So, who exactly're you waitin' on to carry your gear, Miss Black?" By this time, the shouting of their conversation had started to draw some of the others out to see the confrontation.

"No one, Staff Sergeant!" Betty responded firmly.

"Well, then explain to me, Corporal, why exactly you think you don't have to carry your gear like the rest of us?"

"Because it's missing, Staff Sergeant!"

Of all the answers he was expecting, that hadn't been one of them. "Come again, Cadet?" This time he got right up in her face so she could feel his breath on her cheek.

"Sir, it's gone, sir. It wasn't with the others, Staff Sergeant."

"You mind explaining to me exactly how you lose an entire UNSC standard issue duffel, Corporal?"

Betty's jaw muscle clenched. She didn't lose it. Someone, and she had a pretty good idea who that someone might be, was obviously trying to screw with her. However, if there was one thing the military hated, was excuses. Especially lame ones. "I don't know, Staff Sergeant, sir."

SSgt actually laughed at that, turning to the other veteran ODST's who would be helping with training. "Leave it to a woman to forget her mind under pressure, eh boys?"

Betty's jaw muscles clenched again but she stood her ground, never broke her attentive stance. "I didn't forget, Staff Sergeant, sir."

"I'm sorry, Black, was I talking to you?" Once again he was angrily in her face, but to her benefit she didn't flinch or falter, even if SSgt Harris was a rather intimidating body of mass.

"Sir, no, sir."

"What is so important then that you feel the need to speak without being spoken to?"

"With all due respect, Staff Sergeant, sir, I simply said that I didn't forget my bag, sir. I dropped it along with all the others, sir." This was really not how Betty had wanted this to start off. The last thing she needed was to be known as a smart mouth to her commanding officers.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her newest worst nightmare approaching. He stopped just short of SSgt Harris and stood at full attention with a salute.

"You got something to say about this, Private Hanson?"

"Sir, yes, sir. I was in the transport with, Corporal Black, sir."

"And do you remember her dropping her bag with the others, Private?"

Barely containing the stupid smirk on his face, Hanson responded with a shake of his head. "No, Staff Sergeant. I never saw her take her bag off the truck, sir."

"That will be all, Private." Harris dismissed the other man.

Betty glared violent, bloody murder at Hanson before he was dismissed. Though by the time Harris turned back around to address her the glare was gone and her face was a stoic mask once more. "Is this true, Corporal?"

Betty's jaw was starting to get sore by all the clenching it was doing today. She knew if she denied it and they found her bag right where Hanson said it would be that would look very bad for her. If she accepted the blame, even if it was not her fault, she could at least save what little face she had at this point. "Sir, it is possible, Staff Sergeant, that in my anxiousness and haste I might have forgotten, sir."

"A simple yes or no will suffice, Corporal! Is it true you left your gear on the truck?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Yes, what, Corporal?"

"Yes my gear is still on the truck, Staff Sergeant, sir."

Sergeant Harris turned to address one of the other trainers, asking them to contact transport to see if there was still a missing bag on board and to turn back around to drop it off. "Well, good job, Marine. Thanks to you at least two people aren't gonna be able to do their jobs today, just so they can wait on you and your mistake."

"Corporal Black, you've been assigned to the Delta training unit, barracks number 4." He signed off checking her in. "And thanks to this here delay you have even less time than the others to prepare yourself. Good luck, with that." Anyone could tell that by the smirk on his mouth he didn't really mean that last bit. "Dismissed, Cadet."


Betty noticed that most of the guys in her Barracks were the same ones who'd ridden in with her on the truck. When Shaman saw her enter he stopped unloading his duffel and went to her. "What happened, chere?" Betty shook her head, before her attention drew to Hands laughing with a bunch of other marines around his bunk.

He was sitting on the bottom bunk and his back was to her, which was his first mistake. Betty walked over to him, somehow making barely a sound even in heavy combat boots, where she then grabbed him by shoulder of his jacket, to his surprise. She then dragged him backwards off the bed and threw him face first onto the ground in the aisle between the rows of bunk beds that lined opposite sides of the walls.

"Bitch, you're fucking asking for it." He got up and went to grab for her when she elbowed him in the face, breaking his nose. Then in his surprise she grabbed his arm, tweaking it painfully behind his back, before pushing him up against a support beam in the middle of the room. Ever having her back, Fred prevented any of Hanson's buddies from trying to join the 'argument', as Betty would call it. Trust her, this was nowhere near a fight in her regards.

"I only play nice for so long, Private." She spat in his ear. "This is your second warning, Hands. Touch my shit again, whether it be my gear or my ass, and I'll really show you how this girl likes to play house!"

"Is that a promise?" He asked through clenched teeth, as his face was squished against the side of the support beam she had him forced against. Betty smirked before she gave his arm a harder twist, making him groan slightly before she released him and backed away. She had even less time now to find an empty bunk and settle in. Fortunately for her, Shaman had reserved the top bunk above him. There were very few people who would tell the likes of him to fuck off when he said a bunk was saved for someone else.

Hanson grudgingly shrugged off any help from his buddies, all the while glaring at Betty. He felt extremely emasculated now. The bitch was gonna pay. Nobody, especially not some cheeky woman, threatened Hands Hanson, even if she was built like an Amazon and had a helluva grip.

Marcus headed to the 4th barracks block, after SSgt Harris gave him a report of some disciplinary issues. Marcus and the rest of the drill instructors headed to their separate barracks assignment, SSgt. Harris following him to the fourth barracks block. Both Harris and Marcus concluded along with the rest of the drill instructors, that they would treat this not only as part of the training, but that it would also act as a disciplinary tool.

As soon as night fell, Marcus checked his watch, confirming that it was 0345 Hours. Marcus gave a nod to the rest of the drill instructors. They then waited for Marcus to give the order to begin. Before speakong, Marcus allowed himself a broad grin.

Marcus picked up his comm headset, activated it and gave the order, "Start the drill, repeat start the drill on my mark...MARK."

Marcus then switched his headset up to the speakers and heard loud discordant yelling as the recruits were herded out of their respective barracks blockand on to the tarmac, sparcely lit and Marcus watched as bleary eyed recruits started were doing push-ups and saw the cadet the Harris had told him about. Females were a rare commodity in the O.D.S.T.s., so she would treat her as one of the boys sweating and groaning in front of him.

Marcus barked "Welcome to Hell boys and girls." He waited two seconds and then barked "Now on get off your asses and get running! MOVE IT CADETS!"

Marcus, a seasoned O.D.S.T. was having easy time keeping in pace with the recruits "Did I ask for sissies in this class, Harris?" Marcus stated sarcastically

Harris yelled right back "Looks like you did, sir. This effort looks shameful."

Marcus barked "Did you not hear me earlier, recruits. I said MOVE IT! Double time! Last recruit back at the parade ground is not eating breakfast this morning! Now move it, recruits!"

Marcus hitched a ride in one of the transport Hogs and awaited the recruits at the parade ground, a wistful grin on his face as he hopped off the Hog and got out his stopwatch and waited. He stoped as each recruit passed him. He then waited as he saw the last recruit make it.

Betty had gone to bed expecting a night drill. In fact she would have been disappointed really if one didn't happen. Therefore, when Staff Sergeant Harris came in barking orders and harshly rousing them fro their scant few hours of sleep, Betty, who'd gone to sleep still wearing her BDU pants and combat boots, was ready in half the time it took the others. She was one of the first to file out of the barracks and start drills for the Master Sergeant.

Under the tutelage and guide of one Frederique Ledet who was very knowledgeable in the area of physical training and muscle building, over the past two years Betty had definitely built up the tone and muscle necessary to complete the demanding and extensive physical strain that ODST required. Betty could definitely hold her own in jumping jacks, pushups, lats and squats. Drills were no new thing for her so, though she was just as tired as the others from lack of sleep, she was able to keep up with the others. She definitely was not lagging the group. If anything, the other recruits seemed to see her ability as a challenge to increase their own. Even if it was a spirit born out of competition, it might bring results in the long run.

Some of the men were just barely getting into a rhythm when Murand ordered them up and on their way. Betty broke out into a brisk pace in step with Fred and several others. She hadn't quite picked up the nicotine habit at this point, yet, like some of the other guys, so long distance running was definitely an area she was good at.

To say the run would be difficult was somewhat of an understatement; twelve miles to the end not counting the return trip, and mostly uphill one way.

Most of the troops managed to keep up a cadence or two as they ran, but after mile eight with still another 16 to go, even the most stalwart in their ranks were beginning to feel it. The degrading remarks from the Staff Sergeants weren't helping things either. Betty, however, knew that they were running and working just as hard as the rest of the troops to keep up with them. It was easy to forget about that aspect when they were calling you a sissy and a poor excuse for a soldier and a man.

By the time the troops reached the end, were not allowed a breath before turning around and making the run back to base, Betty was winded that was for sure, but having the history in Ballet and such as she did, the onset of sore muscles hadn't quite stricken her yet. Most of these guys were more on the muscle building side of things and we all know that a deprivation of water on muscle mass can lead to the mother of all cramps and several of the men were definitely feeling it.

The sergeants were giving a few Marines who were lagging almost a full quarter mile behind the bulk of the group. This small group happened to include her best friend, Fred, and the newest bane of her existence, Hanson. Betty deliberately dropped her pace so the group passed her up.

"What's the matter, Black? Getting too much for you already?"

Betty didn't bother responding. She only dropped back to match with the laggers. "C'mon, Marines, get your asses movin'." She slowed down even more to fall in step behind Fred where she pushed gently on his back to get him moving. "This means you, soldier." Fred had pushed her in several similar ways during basic, though mostly in a metaphorical sense. She wasn't about to see him drag behind in this. "We've trained for this for two years, Ledet, don't quit on me now, soldier!" Encouraged by her words and her faith in him, Fred managed a smile as he tried to increase his pace.

Betty smiled at his back before she turned around, managing to run backwards as she addressed Hanson. "C'mon, Hanson. You want a push too?"

Unable to voice a response due to being out of breath, he could only manage to flip her the bird. Betty chuckled before giving him a shrug. "Suit y'self." She then increased her pace until she was once again one of the leaders of the pack; though the leadership instincts in her kept glancing behind to check on the status of the laggers. Hanson may be a dick, but she knew a run like this was beyond difficult. At the end of the day, these men were all her comrades and her brothers in arms. That bond was closer than blood sometimes; in her opinion.

Around mile marker 18, with only 6 more miles to go, one of the laggers cried out in pain and started hobbling on one foot, instinctively the marine reached out for the nearest support there was, which happened to be Private Hanson; who instead of trying to help his fellow Marine, told him to fuck off and let go before tearing himself violently from the man's grip to send the him cascading to the ground, gripping at the Charlie horse cramp in his calf. Betty had caught the entire scene and instead of just slowing her pace she turned and started running the other way.

"You're going the wrong way, Corporal?" Staff Sergeant Harris reprimanded her. Betty didn't respond, even when he shouted at her to leave the fallen Private Kelso where he lie.

Hanson called her crazy and stupid when he passed her; sharing the Sergeant's comments about leaving him behind.

Their words seemed to fall on deaf ears however, and she even went against them when she tried to help the Marine to his feet. "C'mon, soldier. This is no place for a picnic."

"I can't," he breathed out. "I can't do it."

"Yes, ya can." She hooked his arm over her shoulders and lifted him to his feet. "Just one step at a time Marine. You can do this." He tested his weight on his leg and gasped. "Lean on me as much as ya need, Private. I ain't gonna let ya fall."

Due to Betty's assistance and encouragement, Kelso was able to walk through the cramp in his leg and after about three miles was able to run without her assistance, though his pace was slow as not to aggravate the cramp any further. Even though he no longer seemed to need assistance, Betty stayed in step at his side the rest of the way back to camp. The sun had already risen in the sky by the time the last two returned, a good hour behind the rest of the recruits.

Betty was more than willing to accept full consequences for her actions; even if that meant missing a meal. It'd be hard, but she'd live. She only hoped they wouldn't try to punish them both. Kelso needed food and more importantly he needed hydration.

Marcus hitched a ride in one of the transport Hogs and awaited the recruits at the parade ground, a wistful grin on his face as he hopped off the Hog and got out his stopwatch and waited. He stoped as each recruit passed him. He then waited as he saw the last recruit make it.

Marcus then wandered up to Kelso and gestured "Head to the medical building and get that checked out."
He looked at the rest of the recruit and said "The rest of you have permission to eat breakfast in the mess. Savor this meal, cadets; because it will be your last for a long, long time. Dissmissed"

Marcus the wanders over to Black "That may have been a good gesture, but don't dissapoint the instructors again. Make a run around the nearest barracks block and be back when I call. Dissmissed"

Marcus then gets the O-course prepped for the next phase of the the training, keeping an eye on the time. The drill instructors also get prepped for the O- Course, knowing that this is where the true recruits were weeded out. He then headed over to the medical tent to check on Kelso.

"What's the status on Kelso, doctor?" Marcus asked. The medic shook his head "Good news, this just looks like a minor leg cramp. Bad news, is that it will get worse if he works on it."

Marcus nods "Alright. Tell Keslo he can come back another time." The medic nods and ushers Marcus out of the tent.

Marcus then comms Harris "Tell the recruits feeding time is over. Sound the horn." Harris says "Aye, aye sir."

Marcus waits for the horn to sound and heads to the O-Course.

Betty released Kelso to the hands of the medics acknowledging his thanks with a head nod and her wishes for him to rest up. "I'll see you back on the course in no time, Private. Take care."

Betty then stood at full attention when Sergeant Murand approached her. Just like she had intended, she took the reprimand and the punishment as they were given to her. "Yes, sir, Master Sergeant, sir." She responded.

Betty typically followed orders, even when she thought they were stupid, she followed orders. However, when it came to the safety and security of her team, if she could help without endangering the rest of the squad or mission, she would.

Betty saluted Murand and waited for his return salute before she dropped her hand, then about face and took off at a sprint towards the nearest barracks. Once there she began her laps as ordered and would continue until told otherwise. Betty was no stranger to pushing herself, however after a 24 mile run on less than a few hours of sleep and no breakfast, even her stamina and legendary optimism was wearing out. Add on top of that the smell of breakfast wafting from the mess hall and the grumbling of her empty stomach, she really was getting bitchy and cranky.


Every time she passed a certain section of the building she could see instructors coming and going making her wonder what exactly they were up for next. She'd heard talk of how legendary the training courses at these training camps were, and none of the graduates could ever really pass on information or pointers about it because the course was never the same. Curiosity and the need to mentally prepare herself for the undoubtedly grueling course she was about to face made her momentarily forget her wearying fatigue as she thought about what she might be coming up against.

These thoughts weren't necessarily a good thing however, because it meant she wasn't fully focused on what she was doing, and almost everyone who knew her knew what could happen if she wasn't focused on the task at hand. Therefore it shouldn't have come to that big of a shock or surprise to her when she tripped on a rock that she'd already passed over half a dozen times and should have known was there.

Betty managed to catch her fall by landing on her hands and knees, but that didn't make it any more graceful. There was a chorus of laughter somewhere off to her right and she stood up slowly, turning in their direction with a sheepish grin on her face. When one had the potential of being as big a klutz as her, one got used to not being embarrassed when taking a slip or a fall. It was easier to join in the laughter, than to try and fight it. "There's a rock there, just to let ya'll know." She stood up and brushed off her knees and shins. "Ya know, in case any o' you tried walkin' this way or somethin'." Other than a couple scraped palms she was fine, though she'd need to wash her palms at some point. They were only a few small scrapes so they should heal up fast if she kept the area clean. Not wanting to look like she was slacking, she resumed her laps.

Marcus did an about face as the recruits got into formation on the parade ground, awaiting his next orders. He then looked towards SSgt. Harris! who gave Marcus an affirmatory nod that the recruits were ready to begin with the O-course, who had no idea of the pain they were about to endure.

Marcus then turned back to the recruits and said "Welcome back, boys and girls. I hope you enjoyed that breakfast, since won't have another meal like that for the next 48 hours."

He then paused to let that statement sink in, and then stated "Behind me is the obstacle course, or O-Course. The O-course will not only test your physical and mental endurance, but also test if you can work well as a team to help each other complete the course. If you have any medical problems while on the course, you will be picked up by field medic and taken to the medical building to assess whether or not you can continue."

Marcus then added "You will go through the course, squad by squad and we will see whether or not you have the qualities to be an O.D.S.T. Regroup with your squad and head to the beginning of the course."

As the recruits headed over Marcus then moved and headed off Hanson. Marcus got into Hanson's face and yelled "And don't think I didn't see what you did out there on the march, Hanson. Not only did you disrespect a fellow recruit, but you left one out there to fend for himself. That is not the kind of character that we tolerate in O.D.S.T.s. As punishment for your actions, you have latrine duty for your entire barracks block for an entire week, understood?!?

Hanson yelled back "Sir, yes sir!" Marcus barked "Now get with your squad and work with them, whether you hate your squadmates or not. NOW GET MOVING!"

Hanson then booked it over towards then O-course; a mixture of fear, shame, and anger on his face. Marcus then went over to SSgt. Harris and said "As soon as you think the squads are ready, get them started on the O-course."

Harris nodded, saluted, and headed off to the O-course to get the recruits moving through it. Marcus waited and then headed over to the O-course as well to start assessing the recruits as they went through it.

It wasn’t as long as Betty thought it would be, probably about her ninth or tenth lap, before she was finally relieved. She was given a five minute respite before she had to be back on the grounds again. So Betty took the rare opportunity to relieve herself and get a drink of water, though she made sure not to drink too much lest she make herself sick. She exited the latrine just as she saw the rest of the troops heading out from the mess hall. It was a piece of cake to pick Fred out of their number and she easily stepped in line running alongside him.

“How ya feelin’, chere?”

“Under the circumstances, darlin’...” She didn’t really need to finish that sentence, Fred knew where she was going with it. Of course she felt like shit, but under the circumstances that was to be expected. So in other words, she was meaning she was doing alright.

“You hungry?” He asked, concerned.

“Starvin’, Marvin!” Betty responded in a mood that none of the others could quite reflect or even understand for that matter. “But I’ll live.”

“Yeah, well maybe ya live a bit longer if ya have dis, hmm?” Fred produced a biscuit from seemingly out of nowhere.

Betty’s eyes widened and she pushed his hand down to hide it. “Oh my God, Freddy, are you serious?” She whispered excitedly. Betty was probably the only one he’d ever let get away with calling him Freddy, but he smiled despite the use of his least favorite nickname.

Betty didn’t dare eat the precious bit of sustenance now though, not with all the instructors so close and watching; so, instead, she very slyly took the biscuit from him and secreted it away to one of the plethora of pockets on her BDUs. So what if it got a little smushed? A smushy biscuit was probably going to seem like the sweetest ambrosia come day two on an empty belly.

When everyone was gathered in formation on the parade grounds, they silently listened to MsSgt Murand’s instructions before moving off the field to get their team assignments from Instructor Harris. Betty didn’t fail to notice the confrontation between Murand and Hanson, just as she couldn’t help but think it was about time someone started recognizing some of the bull shit that was going on with him. That was a dick move of Hanson this morning. They might all be getting judged on how well they do in this training, but at the end of the day they were still all on the same side; fighting the same fight.

Betty waited as Instructor Harris called their attention. “Alright, ladies, here’s how it’s gonna be. You’ll each be assigned to a five-man team. On the course you’re going to encounter 20 different obstacles; some you may be able to pass on your own, a majority, however will require the joint cooperation of your entire unit; so it’d be a damn good idea not get separated, understood?”

A chorus of, “Yes, sir, Staff Sergeant!” ushered from the ranks.

“These teams have been chosen based upon each recruits performance record and known skills. There will be no changes, swapsies or trade-offs so you better get used to each other, cause you’re gonna have to live and breathe these people for the rest of training.” He paused to let that little ditty sink in. “When I call your name step forward and accept your flag.”

Betty was prepared to wait patiently for her name to be called, but she shouldn’t have been that surprised when it was the first. “Team Alpha will be as follows: Black, Betty.” A few of the guys that knew her and had fought with her previously were used to her name being called thusly, as such they were also accustomed to start humming or flat out singing the very old but ever popular song by the same name. After a moment Harris silenced them merely with a glare.

Fred gave her a pat on the shoulder before Betty stepped forward and accepted the cerulean blue armband that would be her teams color. She then waited with trepidation for the remainder of her team to be called.

“Grossman, William.” She recognized the name Grossman from the transport the day prior. If she wasn’t mistaken he was the one who’d lost the bet as to what Betty would smell like. Great. Just great. Still, she supposed even he was probably a better teammate than-

“Hanson, Hans.” FUCK! Seriously? Someone out there had to have it in for her; either that or Murphy was simply tagging along as usual with his stupid Law in tow. Lucky her.

After picking up his armband, Hanson stepped in line next to Grossman. The two exchanged a fist pound before Hanson turned to Betty and whispered, “Still gonna show me how to play house, Black?”.

Betty closed her eyes and sighed heavily before responding under her breath, "Well, someone ought show you not ever’one grew up afraid o’ daddy.” She managed to speak barely moving her lips.

Hanson was about to say something when Harris interrupted any retort he might have had. “You got somethin’ ya wanna share with the whole class, Hanson?”

“No, Staff Sergeant, sir.”

“Then can it, Private!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Ledet, Fred.” Harris continued, bringing a huge smile to Betty’s face. She whooped and clapped as Freddy took his matching arm band then joined her.

“O’Malley, Davis.” Harris finished as a man whom Betty didn’t recognize stepped forward. He was leaner and shorter than what one might expect from most Marines, but he visibly had more than his fair share of battle scars. His eyes burned with determination and something else Betty couldn’t quite place. He gave her a curt but respectful nod when they’re eyes met and almost immediately Betty found she respected him. There was a sort of kinship she could feel there. He didn’t look like your typical Marine and neither did she. That didn’t mean that there wasn’t the same heart, fire, strength and determination underneath.

Once all the teams were assigned and assembled, Instructor Harris addressed them all once more. “Now that you’ve been divided into teams, you’re gonna be taken to a randomly selected drop off point. From there you will be provided with further instruction.”

Quite unexpectedly, Betty found herself with a large thick sack over her head and someone was leading her away by the arm. She was taken to what she could only assume was a truck; it sounded and smelled like a truck. She was pulled inside and forced to sit where moments later two more bodies flanked her.

“That you, chere?” A very deep, heavily Cajun accented voice asked from her left. Betty’s only response was to pat his thigh. “Where ya t’ink they takin’ us?” He asked.

“Hell.” This response came from her right. Betty didn’t recognize the voice so she could only assume it was the new guy, O’Malley; well new to her at any rate.

It wasn’t necessarily the response that unsettled her, but the way in which he said it; like he knew from experience what they were about to go through.

An ominous feeling settled inside of her that stayed with her even after the vehicle stopped. When the doors opened they were ordered to get out. Once they were all on the ground, Betty awaited further orders but the only response that greeted them was the sound of doors closing and a vehicle driving away.

Betty quickly removed the sack from her head, gave herself a moment to adjust to the bright light and then glanced off towards the disappearing vehicle. What the hell? It didn’t take long for the others to follow suit and remove their hoods as well. After looking around for anything that might indicate what they were supposed to do, Betty spotted some camo-netting covering a small hill not ten feet from their location. After swatting Fred on the shoulder she made her way over to the small mound.

After pulling back the netting they discovered the hill was actually a supply cache containing: five camelback canteens, all empty of course, a compass, 2 combat knives, 2 flashlights, 1 field med pack, 5 comm pieces and a holo data pad.

While the guys went for the canteens and debated over the knives, Betty picked up the holo pad. After touching the screen to activate it, Betty froze as the pad shined a laser imaging scanner that swept across her face. After an pregnant moment, the pad spoke in a masculine computer voice, “Facial recognition confirmed. Please state your name and rank.”

“Uh, Lance Corporal Elizabeth Black.”

“Processing... Facial recognition and vocal analysis match complete. Greetings, Corporal. There is a message waiting, would you like to play it now?”

Marcus headed towards the vehicle pool, so as to go see the progress of the recruits in the exercise. He looked towards a waitng Falcon helicopter, so as to get a good view of the area.

The pilot came up to Marcus, saluted and said "The Falcon is ready is ready to go, sir." Marcus nodded, returned the salute and said "Good, good. Let's get rolling."

They both got into the Falcon, took off, and headed towards the O-course area. Marcus, strapped into the Falcon's crew bay, grinned like a boy as the Falcon increased altitude and headed towards the area of the O-course. As soon as the Falcon was in the area, the pilot put the helicopter into a hover and locked its altitude.

The pilot yelled over the engines "We're over the area, sir." Marcus yelled over the comms, "Roger that."

Marcus then got out his binoculars and started his observation of the exercise.

“Processing... Facial recognition and vocal analysis match complete. Greetings, Corporal. There is a message waiting, would you like to play it now?”

Betty's brow furrowed and she told the guys to shut up. "Yes, please, play the message." The laser light beams returned only this time they projected what looked like a doll-sized version of MsSgt Murand standing on the screen's surface. Or, she was sorry, he'd probably prefer the term action-figure-sized.

As if that wasn't unexpected enough, the miniature hologram began to speak. "Greetings, recruits. If you're watching this then you've obviously found the cache my boys left behind. In it, we've included only the basics in which you will need to survive the next 48 hours."

"Speaking of the next 48 hours, I suggest you listen carefully to this message because this program will only play once... You are currently here." The data pad suddenly flared to life showing a topographical map and a blinking red dot showing their current location. "You have 48 hours to make it to base camp, here." The map zoomed out and pinpointed another blinking marker on the map, that from what Betty could tell was only about 30 miles away from their current position. That should be easy. "Oh and before you start thinking, that's gonna be easy... There are seven objectives you must complete prior to your arrival at base camp. You will have to complete one challenge before you're able to move onto the next."

"The first team to make it to base within the 48-hour period will win a special reward. The last..." Marcus didn't elaborate further. He'd let their imaginations fill in the blanks with all sorts of punishments and tortures, doing the work for him. "Failure to complete all 7 objectives and reach base after the 48 hour window has expired will result in the expulsion of your entire unit. Those of you who think you can't make it will find flare sticks in your cache. Ignite one and wait for your pick-up crew to bring you back. One warning though: Flare ignition is a sign of surrender, intended or not, so only use it if you seriously plan on dropping out of this program for good." After a little digging, Fred found said light sticks and passed one out to each of them.

"Good luck, recruits. Hope to see most of you at base camp." The hologram gave a salute, which Betty returned half heartedly, before it disappeared. A Timer showed at the top of the screen which read 47:45 and was counting down seconds. Suddenly the topo map zoomed in to show a 3rd marker, about five miles from their current location.

"That's a piece of cake!" Hanson said from over her shoulder. He reached for the data pad but she pulled it away from him, standing as she did so.

"Oh yeah, real easy, bub." She said sarcastically. "There's just the small matter of, oh, a 50 foot ravine between us and there."

"What? Let me see that?" He reached for the display again, and once more she dodged him. "Why do you think you get to be the navigator?" He asked.

"I never said I have to be the navigator, but do you even know how to read a topographical map?"

"Of course I do!" He tried to snatch it from her, but instead of fighting she practically handed it to him. "It's just a map. I know how to read a map!" She had no doubts he could read a military map, find out where he was in unknown territory. However, not everyone knew how a topographical map worked.

"Oh really... So, tell me then, Hands, what would we encounter if we headed six miles east o' here?" She waited for him to look over the map... And waited... Precious moments flying by waiting for him to stop being stupid. "See this?" She squeezed in next to him and pointed at some lines on the map. "These lines have a meaning. These ones indicate an incline, so basically it's showing that six miles east of our current location we'd hit a small mountain about 1,000 feet at it's peak, that spans about ten miles in length from start to finish." After a moment, where even after she showed him what she was talking about he still couldn't quite see it, Hanson bitterly handed the pad back to her, which Betty accepted with a thank you.

Betty's fingers then moved over the screen until the holoimager blinked to life again and projected a three-dimensional display of their map so they all could see without having to bunch around her.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Grossman asked Hanson, who only shrugged.

"Not originally, Grossman, no. But it's amazing where a little ingenuity and a slighty-more-than basic knowledge of computers and mechanics will get you." Betty smiled as she zeroed the map in on where they were. "So we're here, right?" She then scrolled the screen along and the 3D display moved with it. The image froze when she got to the ravine she'd mentioned earlier. "Our first objective is just on the other side here, but to climb down and back up would take the better part of the day and equipment, frankly, we don't possess." She worried her bottom lip. "We'll have to go around somehow, or... Hmm."

"Or, what, chere? What is it?" Fred asked.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure, but see this area right here." She made the screen zoom in on the area she was talking about. "Unless I'm reading this completely wrong, that looks like a bridge right there. If we could cut across the ravine instead of having to go around it that would save us a lot of time."

"Let's do that then!" Grossman and Hanson said almost in unison.

"Hold on, I don't know how old this map is. The bridge could be dilapidated, or out of service or it might not even be there. If we go there and can't cross, that could take even longer. If it is still functional, though, it could shave at least 2 maybe 3 hours off our time. Do we wanna risk it?"

They all exchanged glances and seemed to come to the same decision. The idea of what reward awaited them if they were the first to arrive at base camp making them all a little daring. "Let's do it!" They concurred. Thank the lord Betty was given a team of fellow risk-takers.

"Well alright then." She said as she shoulder her camel-back canteen and stood. "Let's get our gear and move out."

After some slight negotiating amongst each other, it had been decided that Hanson and Ledet would each get a knife. Grossman and O'Malley took the torches and Betty had already been unanimously dubbed the compass and map bearer. So, with Hanson and Betty finally showing some semblance of cooperation and an ability to get along, the team moved out towards their first objective.

Marcus looks through his binoculars and spots one of the squads making their way towards the base camp. Marcus knew one of the groups' members would crack or screw up, and light the flare that would send a retreval team their way and bring them back to the base.

Marcus checked his watch. Marcus then said to himself "Tick tock, tick tock." Marcus then yawned, but was used to the short amount of sleep.

Marcus then looked towards the squad nearest his position and shook his head. He then took a ration bar out of a pocket and took a bite to dull the hunger. Marcus continued to watch his clock off and on, knowing that something was going to happen; eventually. He looked again through his binoculars as he kept progress of the individual squads.

After an hour on watch, Marcus let the sound of the Falcon's rotors lull him into a light sleep.

Five miles should have been easy, but considering their team was literally running on empty, it was harder than it should have been. However, they made it to the ravine no longer than Betty had anticipated and quickly found the rope bridge. Unfortunately, just as Betty had suspected it was definitely out of service... The entire thing was collapsed.

“Fuckin’ shit!” Betty sighed as kicked at the ground, sending a few rocks into the ravine. “I hate it when I’m right!”

“Whatta we do now?” Grossman asked from behind her.

“Gimme a minute,” Betty asked as she pulled the map from the pocket she’d stored it in.

Out of sheer boredom the guys started picking up rocks and chucking them across the ravine. Betty watched their antics and couldn’t help but notice that Grossman had a helluva swinging arm; almost all of his rocks landed on the opposite side of the ravine.

“Where the hell’d ya learn ta throw like that, G-man?” Betty asked as the wheels worked in her head.

“High School. Shot-put and javelin throw champ three years running. Why?” He chucked another rock across the ravine and Betty had to refrain herself from squeeing like a little girl when an idea overcame her.

“D’ya think y’could make that throw with a rope? Like a grappling hook?” Betty was staring at the rope hanging over their side of the ravine that she could only assume had once acted as part of the bridge.

The rest of the team seemed to start catching onto her line of thinking and they perked up dramatically. “Yeah, probably.” Grossman answered with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Alright boys, fan out; look for something we can use as a hook.” Betty started pulling up the rope and bundling it in a neat circle on the ground. The guys returned a few moments later with several good prospects for a grappling hook and Betty smiled.

They all decided that the small branch Davis found would be the best as it had several other smaller but sturdy branches protruding from it that could easily catch.

After securing the branch to the end of the rope Betty had bundled with a very sturdy knot, Grossman took his place closest to the edge of the ravine he could safely get and he began to swing; widening the slack some until he let it fly. They all waited with baited breath; hearts racing as timen seemed to slow as the watched their makeshift grappling hook sail through the air... And catch on a low lying tree branch on the other side.

They all started cheering and giving Grossman pats on the back for a job well done, and on a first attempt too!

“Way to go, G-man!” Betty gave him a hefty punch on the shoulder, which he did very well at pretending didn’t hurt.

Shaman was the one to test the rope’s security by pulling on it as hard as he could, until he was satisfied it would hold one of them securely. When he was finished testing its strength they tied off the other end to a tree closest to the mouth of the ravine. They were fortunate in the fact that the opposite side was several feet lower than the other so the rope line they created had a slight decline, which would make it easier to do what Betty was about to do. It would still be difficult as hell, but the decline would make it that much easier.

“Alright, boys. Since, I’m the lightest one here, and prolly the most agile, I’m’a go first and secure the rope better on the other side. Any objections from the peanut gallery?” None of them said anything so Betty continued, wondering when exactly she’d fallen into the leader role. She wasn’t complaining she just didn’t know how it happened. “Good! You boys work on bringing up that there other rope, tie it to something weighty for G-man to throw and I’ll catch it on the other side. Once I tie that off y’all can monkey rope it across, green?”

They nodded again and Betty approached the rope. She took a steadying couple breaths in and out before she pulled herself on top of it then laid flat on her stomach and chest so the rope rested right down her middle, nestled between her breasts and her thighs. With one leg bent at the knee and the other securely extended for balance, Betty began pulling herself across the rope, focusing on hand-over-hand and trying not to look down at the several hundred foot drop... They didn’t call it a suicide line for nothing.

Marcus woke up after an hour and got up to check on the progress of squads. After waking up, he looked out of his binoculars, looking for anything amiss. He looked around, seeing nothing wrong. He sighed, and yawned, from being tired and bored.

The pilot looking at the Falcon's camera and said "Master Sergeant, There's something in the valley that you should see." Marcus nodded and then checked himself.

As Marcus checked the binoculars, he saw one of the squads using a makeshift zipline to go accross the the gorge. He smiled and said to himself admiringly "Clever. Very, very clever"

Marcus then let himself go back into a light slumber, letting himself have an intensely private broad grin as it happened. The pride he felt at the moment was both immense and genuine.

After they set the monkey rope up once she was to the other side, it was fairly easy from there. They got their first trophy which gave them the clues that would lead them to the second... Things only went progressively downhill from there... The remaining challenges forced them through all manner of hell; from swimming through fast flowing, freezing ice cold rapids, t bamboo traps and all manner of unpleasantness. They didn't have time to camp much and Betty didn't let them sleep for more than 30 minutes to an hour at a time. They seemed to pull together pretty well as a team and worked hard to achieve their common goals; when in the field they showed they could pull together and shirk their grudges and their differences. Their only casualty came in during their third to final task where O'Malley took a bamboo spike through his leg. Betty had done her best field wrap and they'd brought him with them for a spell but he declared himself down for the count, and despite their protestations had ignited his flare. They wished him luck and continued on their way.

They ended up being the first to make it back to their new beachside base camp with all 7 trophies intact, and therefore winners of the challenge and the bonus reward; which included a shower, a full hot meal and a few good hours R'n'R. Out of everything, even after not having eaten for almost 3 days straight, Betty was most excited for the prospect of a shower. She didn't think she'd be able to enjoy a good meal with her own stench killing her senses anyway, so the shower was necessary. Or so she reasoned.

"C'mon, Black! Real food!" Hands of all people called out to her, asking her to join them for grub. Imagine that.

Betty shook her head. "I dun know how ya'll kin even think o' eatin' with ya'll smellin' like 'at." All three men raised their arms simultaneously, then as if it had been rehearsed they sniffed at their arm pits. The look they then gave her was priceless; as if they had no clue what she was talking about and thought she was crazy. So, maybe she was being a girl. Sue her. They probably realized they wreaked to high heavens just couldn't be brought to care overmuch, as was evident by the shrugs of their shoulders.

Betty chuckled and rolled her eyes. She then waved them off as she made her way to the showers. There was no distinction between girls and boys lavatories out here. When one has fought, bled, peed and all manner of things in the field with a largely male population, one has to lose her aversions to being seen or seeing others in various states of dress and undress, whichever the case may be. Besides, they were the first ones back, this might be the only shot at some level of privacy she'd get.

Marcus kept a keen watch over the O Course area, looking for anything that indicated either success or even failure. Finding the success was a bit hard for Marcus, but finding those who had either fallen for one of the many traps or had lit the provided flare was easy. For those who fell for the traps, Marcus knew that either a medical tent or interrogation training awaited those recruits. For those who lit the flares, however, Marcus knew that the O course had cracked them. Of those who had cracked, to his suprise, there were hardened combat veterans who had been through worse hells than the O course. For those veterans that lit the flares, Marcus gave them some pity, but didn't show it.

Marcus then arrived at the end point of the O course to, more or less, congratulate Black's squad on completing the O course in record time. He then put the only casualty to a waiting medical Falcon to be taken back to base. But before Marcus left the squad, Marcus gave Hanson a tap on the shoulder and said "Remember Hanson, you have latrine duty, even if your squad finished."

He then nodded to the rest of the squad and said "Get some rest, recruits, you've earned it. Dissmissed."

Marcus then got back onto his waiting Falcon, gave the pilot a nod, and headed back to the base.