There was a sense of nervousness as all of the recruits boarded the transport shuttle outside the UN building in Manhattan. It had been several months, longer for some, of applications, physicals, psychological exams, and background checks to get here. They were finally heading to the Bastion space station for training. They were going to be members of Vanguard.
As they shuttle approached escape velocity, several new recruits lost their lunches, a combination of physical forces and mental nervousness getting the better of them. It was expected, and the flight crew seemed to take pride in performing maneuvers that would encourage such reactions. Nevertheless, the atmosphere faded away and the only thing before the recruits was a space station the size of which they never dreamed possible. Bastion, the first defense station in the war against super-powered terrorism.
The docking bay of the of Bastion was busy with people scurrying every which way. People in uniforms were fixing other shuttles, preparing them for takeoff, and other tasks common to a flight deck. From the structure of it all it felt more like a military operation than a superhero headquarters.
As the group, lead by an agent from the recruitment office back on earth, approached the main doors that entered into station proper, they were met by two men standing near each other. Both had short hair, but one was much larger than the other, standing near 6'4". The larger man had a cybernetic arm and his uniform was cut to expose the entire thing. After the group settled into a position in front of them, the larger man spoke, and he got straight down to business.
"Apparently the recruitment office thinks you are Vanguard material, we'll see about that." His voice boomed through the entire docking bay. "My name is Lt. Col. Marc Slayton, the codename is Diehard, but you don't get to use codenames until you've earned your own, so you'll refer to me as Sir, Lt. Col., or God. Out of the sixteen of you I expect no more than three to make, and that's if I'm lenient on my assessment. Vanguard is the first fighting force against the world's most dangerous beings, and frankly, I don't think any of you know what you're getting yourselves into, so I'm going to be very clear about a few things."
He walks a little closer to the group. "First of all, I am not you friend!" he yells. "I am not your mother! To tell the truth, I don't even like the idea that you think you can hack it with the world's finest fighting force. The men and women who serve on this station earned their positions in combat, REAL COMBAT! Not that sissy shit you're used to hearing about on CNN. And I promise you, if you do not measure up to the least of the crew on this station you'll be flushed out immediately, I don't care what your powers are, because in the end, they count for nothing."
Diehard stepped back and calmed his demeanor. He points to a small circular hatch on the wall nearby. You'll be given a security and safety briefing later, but I want all of you to take a look at this now. This is an escape pod, there are a series of them in every major corridor and room on the station. They are all preprogramed to fly into the nearest large body of water on earth, namely the Atlantic or Pacific oceans. If you do not cut it in training, you don't leave on a comfy transport like the one you came in on. You leave in an escape pod. Do you understand?" The room boomed a nervous but loud "Yes, Sir!"
"I know you've been through a battery of tests and a long application process. It's only begun. Right now you'll be lead to a panel of psychologists to determine if you're capable of handling the mental stresses of fighting, given the pattern of soiled shirts from the trip up here, I doubt it. After that you'll be tested physically to see if you're capable of fighting at all."
Diehard then motions to the man standing at military ease to his left. "This is Sergeant Monsen, codenamed Elite. For those of you that make it, he'll be your section leader. If you see him in the halls, giving orders, eating, or taking a piss, you give him the proper respect, do I make myself clear?" Again, the group shouts, "Yes, Sir!"
Then the door opened behind him and an athletic, very attractive female walked out. "This is Christine Trelane, known as the Director. She's in charge of operating procedures on Bastion. If you so much as look at her wrong, I'll have you on an escape hatch before you can blink." Diehard's harsh introduction of the Director seemed perfect for her. She had an edge to her gaze that implied a lack of sympathy for weakness in those under her command.
"Thank you, Lt. Col." The Director said. She got a glazed look in her eye for a moment, but only a moment, and it was then that those in the room saw the mechanical headpiece that wrapped around the back of her head. "The psychological panel and training rooms are ready for them."
"You heard the lady, MOVE OUT!" Diehard shouted.
After the recruits leave the room, The Director turns to Elite. "Please come to my office, We need to talk about your new position." After hearing a disciplined but relaxed "Yes, ma'am," she turns and leaves.
The group was lead by various training staff to individual rooms for one-on-one psychological exams. After which, if they passed, they were lead to a training room to be tested on an obstacle course and various fighting simulations and sparring sequences. The entire process took more than nine hours, with promises that it would continue tomorrow.
Welcome to Vanguard . For an introductory post, RP the psychological exam briefly. The psychologists will ask where you're from, what your experience is, and what you can do. It doesn't have to be that detailed, though, simply figure a way to give a brief description of your character's capabilities and backstory as though they were telling someone. Also, make Attack and Fortitude rolls for your character's physical test, you can RP that as much as you like. After the tests, you are allowed to go to the common area for refreshments and relaxation - there may be others there, it is a "common area" - or to your quarters. The rest of the station is off limits.