[M] Sniped Through the Heart (Iwazuma x Hannelorian)

[Iwazuma]

Rated Mature for potential nudity, blood and/or gore, realistic depictions of war, and other mature themes. Do not attempt at home.

June 20, 20XX. Osnen Main Headquarters, Urlachen. 21:55.

In the main barracks of Osnen, there were few constants in the life of a soldier. Not the missions-you could be deployed at a moment's notice and the job was always different, whether it was simply a reconnaissance mission to one of Osnen's many refineries and laboratories to secure, contain, or gain insight on a new discovery, or a suppression job to quell another uprising in one of Meracyn's various cities and districts. The true excitements were the assault missions on resistance bases; many a soldier would brag about the kills they picked up while on a raid. There wasn't consistency in the day to day activities-one could do almost anything they wished whilst in the barracks; facilities had been built for almost any occasion, luxuries were easy to come by as pay was good and plentiful, and the dormitories themselves were co-ed, as though the higher-ups either didn't care about, or promoted their subordinates dating and generally mingling. It wasn't even there in one's coworkers-soldiers at Osnen came and went as they shifted assignments, didn't come back from missions, or simply outright disappeared. Nobody ever seemed to cause a fuss about it, however-if you did your job well, no harm would ever come to you. Osnen was a brotherhood, after all-and any arm of the Brotherhood was as sacred as any other.

No, if there was any consistency to be found in Urlachen's main barracks, it was in one soldier in particular. Regina Carlisle, model soldier of the barracks and most feared sniper the entire realm over, walking from her dorm towards the shooting range. There were many places one would never find Regina, which included any leisure locations, the men's restroom, and the group showers; her dorm, unlike most others, had its own private bathroom, a gift given from her superiors for years of excellent performance. But if you were looking to avoid the Terminator herself, anyone was smart enough to keep clear of the shooting range in the evening. Regina's steps, metal clank mismatching with booted footfall, were slow and methodical as she shut the door to her personal quarters, her pistol resting calmly in its holster where it always did. A cursory run of her fingertips along its sleek form reminded her of what she needed to do that night. Another run through her usual course; not that she was in any particular danger of losing her shooting records, of course. Her numbers sat atop the digitalized leaderboard accessible by any shooting-minded soldiers seeking to eke out a name for themselves amidst the rank and file. Regina owned most of the top times and scores-first place was mostly considered a given for her, and fights for second and below would ensue far more often than anyone dared to challenge what looked like the impossible. No, Regna was simply making sure her skills stayed sharp and her accuracy remained impeccable.

Steps carried her through the mess hall, the base cafeteria area where most of Osnen's squadrons ate whom were deployed here. There were a few restaurants scattered throughout the sprawling compound one could go to if they wished a more specialized meal, but the cafeteria's food was good enough and nutritious on a level that almost seemed suspicious. An average meal seemed to contain exactly the right amount of calories and vitamins needed, personalized on an individual level. Regina personally didn't mind-it meant it was one less thing she needed to be concerned about. As she kept up her slow, casual pace, Regina noticed heads slowly turn and conversations lighten to a hush as she passed. This had been the reactions she'd gotten for years. Being the first-and still one of the only-to obtain cybernetic augmentations, that alone had been enough to cause her to stand out. But her reputation for her...soullessness, as some had called it, had spread like wildfire, leading most to avoid interactions with the emotionless soldier. She'd heard the names. Terminator. Robo-Cop. Monster. Parts of her sometimes looked back on those names and wondered why they had to be so cruel. Why she couldn't simply fit in with the rest of them...but then her business side would recall her mission. Emotions made one weak. They led to indecisiveness and pathos-based decision making. Both liabilities in the field. She knew this as a sworn fact, and would hold it as an important ideology. She needed to be as cold and calculating as she could. That was why she was the fastest and most accurate shot with just about any firearm.

With the most populous area of the compound cleared, Regina picked up the pace a little more, eager to get back to where she felt most comfortable outside her dorm. She could see the entrance to the range, a few soldiers exiting with haste, knowing full well that she would be on the way. A few hung around, waiting for someone-likely her-to enter. Her course runs were a masterclass on efficiency and peak physical performance, so she had grown accustomed to some seeking to pick up some visual knowledge on precision and focus often viewing her 'performances' to take notes. Regina didn't mind the stares as much as one might think-she was in her element then. If she was the best, it was only typical people would want to watch, after all...

[Hannelorian]

If one expected a proper barracks to be entirely disciplined at all times. One would be wrong. They were at their finest, the perfect home for the perfect soldier. Those who performed to expectation or above were rewarded. Those who struggled would simply vanish, and no one bothered to ask questions. At its worst it was a mill for gossip and rumour. Hushed whispers everywhere one went. But this was not surprising. It was after all a brotherhood, a sort of forced family. Everyone had their role to fulfill and when one spent that much time with another everything would come out. Small irritants, whispers of unsavory character, talk of the dirtiest of details of one's sex life. Everything.

Anke de Heer found herself for the first time in Urlachen's Main Barracks. Transferred less than day ago from a smaller base where she gained a reputation as an excellent shot, to put it mildly. To be ne was to be different. A competitive environment where one had yet to prove their skills to the rest. Anke was itching for a win, or mostly accurately an opportunity to fit in with the others. But that would come later, or perhaps even sooner than she had thought. As Anke sat there in the mess hall, her hands resting flat atop the table, she did not particularly stand out.

Dressed in the same fatigues as almost everyone else, her platinum blonde locks tied into a neat bun with not even a single hair out of place. Dark brown eyes seemed to focus on nothing in particular. But her hands and her fingers were anything but ordinary. Outwardly they appeared delicate, long but slender fingers, hardly a callous to be found. Her nails were trimmed and cleaned, yet they were something so elegant and fluid in the way she moved them. It didn't take long for Anke to seem to zone out, when her fingertips began to move against the table. A set of fast paced, complex movements. Fingertips pressing down into the table itself for brief bursts or slightly longer periods.

It was if she were actually at a piano and 88 keys were set before her. The melody that played in her head made real through the very actions of moving her hands and fingers. Even if no one else could hear it, she did, she heard and felt it swell through her, a wide range of complicated emotions traveling from her heart and her head down into the tips of her fingers. Her own little world.

"The hell are you doing?" A male voice broke her from her concentration. Anke smiled softly and shook her head. "Old habit." She replied in a soft voice that seemed at best understanding that her behavior was out of the realm of the usual. The next sound that struck her ears so perfectly attuned was the distinct noise that came from the heavy metallic foot of a soldier. The pressure much greater on side than the other. Anke looked up to see a figure passing through the space. "So that's her." Anke said in a hushed tone.

"Terminator." The same male voice that sat across from her had filled in the rest of the detail.

"Carlisle." Anke responded, almost as though correcting the unknown man.

"Sure yeah, whatever." The man rolled his eyes and Anke shook her head. "Where's she going at this hour?" Anke inquired but she really didn't need to. The answer seemed to obvious. "The range. Where else does a robot like that go?" The man's replies seemed unnecessarily cruel but Anke was in no position to argue. Regina's reputation was known the world over it seemed, and there she was, just feet away. Pressing her palms into the table, Anke pushed herself up and into a standing position and quietly followed behind Regina, several feet behind as they entered the area, Anke's eyes rose to the leaderboard.

"Well fuck me..." Anke spoke as she exhaled. Regina's times were insane, far better than anyone she had previously served under.

"Be glad to sweetheart." Another voice called in response to her comment and Anke merely rolled her eyes as she stepped closer and to the small group of people who were set to watch her next run. Putting her hands into her pockets Anke looked out at Regina. She was beautiful, if not cold. Intriguing, to say the least. "Hey." Anke called out in Regina's direction.

"Let's see what you got Carlisle. I'm not sure you wouldn't mind showing off a bit, hmm?" The faces of those assembled turned almost all at once to Anke, who was seemingly challenging the Terminator as some called her. Yet she was not yet offering to compete herself. It was time for Anke to see this legend in the flesh and metal.

[Iwazuma]

Regina was lost in her own head, taking smooth and calm mismatched steps towards the shooting range, when a feminine voice called out in her direction and gave her pause. She figured for a moment whoever it was, she was calling to someone else, but then she used a name she hadn't heard from the rank and file in a while: Her last name. She stopped in her tracks, turning back slowly to look at the person bold enough to speak to the soulless soldier. Hmm. The platinum blonde locks were the first thing that jumped out to her about her, as well as her dark brown eyes, giving her eye contact where most would shy away. Either she didn't know who Regina was, factually impossible as she was just called by name, or else she was...challenging her. A foolish endeavor, perhaps, but one Regina took with narrowed eyes. "Who...are you?" Regina asked quietly, calmly. She didn't recognize this girl. Maybe she was new. Probably, actually; Regina didn't recognize her from any missions or from any of the common areas. Regardless...Regina took a deep breath. Nothing to take personally. Maybe she was just eager. Regina did have the most impressive resume in the gallery, after all. Regina decided to let it go, and instead nodded. "If you are looking for advice, I recommend watching my performance and taking notes." Regina's voice was soft and feminine, a far cry from the rest of her imposing and intimidating appearance. It was also monotonous, almost lifeless; the super-soldier seemed not to give even a hint of emotion as she turned back, walking down the path into the gallery as though the conversation had never even happened in the first place.

Regina didn't care for much beyond her own well-being and how she could better serve Osnen. While many men and women in service would spend their leisure hours either out on the town, playing video games, lounging in one of the various recreational areas, or with each other, Regina preferred to have as little leisure time as she could get away with. Yes, she knew rest was important to the body as well, but if she could stand, she may as well train. The shooting range was her preferred locale, and given the fact that the place had mostly cleared out save for spectators, Regina know most people knew that as well. By the time she'd arrived, only the spectator areas were filled at all; far above the range existed rows of seats behind glass for Osnen brass or interested soldiers to observe their compatriots at work, or indeed occasionally view a competition between soldiers. When Regina arrived, however, the tone shifted to that not unlike a master performing her craft. Those who deigned to stay were often there to observe and attempt to replicate, and rarely for the entertainment value itself. Of course, in the highest seats often sat one or two researchers or overseeing officers, there to make sure Regina was performing to specifications. Just the smallest reminder that he had to do well, not just for her own sake but for Osnen's as well.

The range itself was a rather innovative design; several platforms sat attached to walkways leading into a desertlike space, various rocks dotting the sands that acted as landmarks. Regina took to a platform, hitting a button on the terminal sitting in its center, and it detached from the walkway, following a set track to the center of the range. There were a few of these tracks spread out amongst the area, but no safety guidelines were in place-if you shot someone, both of you knew better and would be reprimanded accordingly. Regina herself had an impeccable record with minimizing organic casualties while on Osnen territory, though it barely registered in her head. She knew her targets, and she would adjust appropriately to their movements and appearances. Regina closed her eyes and took a deep breath, unholstering her pistol and holding it in her right hand, her human hand. She always preferred the right-while her mechanical arm could snap a shot in record time and pinpoint accuracy, she had trained hard enough to do the same with her own muscles. It felt better to not have to rely on her augmentations. With a soft sigh, Regina reached behind her, tapping the red button in the console's center to begin the course.

Almost immediately, several targets appeared from the walls, ceiling, sands, and even the rocks themselves, moving about in complex and confusing patterns in an attempt to overwhelm and trick the senses. Regina calmly stared down her first flying target, firing a precision shot that pierced the wood and plastic straight through the bullseye. Registering a direct hit, the mechanism ground to a halt before retreating back into the wall from whence it came. Regina then whirled on a dime, firing two shots along the way that appeared as though she couldn't possibly have aimed them. They found their targets regardless, each bullseye perfectly pierced as though she'd spent five minutes lining up the shot. She took a step forward, firing twice about a half-second apart, drilling one target, the second shot whizzing past its retreating gears to strike the one behind it with precision. She then pointed straight down, firing a shot that pierced a target barely visible through the rust-red sands. One more turn on her heel, and a final round was shot, ricocheting off one of the rocks on the course to drill a sideways-facing target that otherwise seemed unhittable from her position; Regina noted the shot seemed a quarter-inch off center as it sank back down into the sands.

The timer along the wall beeped once, signifying Regina had completed the precision course, and displayed the final time in bold red letters for all to see: 41.275 seconds. A few soldiers gave out smatterings of applause, but many were focused on the woman herself, some scribbling down notes from her motions and aim that they'd seen. One decorated captain nodded approvingly from the top row, then turned on his heel, disappearing back into the adjoining room. Apparently what she'd done was enough to convince her superiors that she was still good enough for a day.

But I'm not. I missed that last target. It was off the bullseye. Maybe just a bit-and to most other soldiers it would have been a bullseye all the same. But to her precision eye, she may have well have missed the shot entirely. That, and the time-she was a full half-second off her best time. With a disappointed sigh, Regina folded her arms, staring out into the sands, her eyes glazing over what few people he could see from the stands behind him. I can do better. I need to perfect my movements. Maybe if I didn't take that step forward. Regina's mind was awash with ways she might improve, not noting the new face or two in the viewing area until one familiar one popped up to her right. There you are... That new girl...perhaps she simply didn't know better to avoid Regina, but she'd learn soon enough. They all did. Few were the people who dared to speak to her more than once or twice, for fear of what she might say or do...not that she ever did. For now, she needed to make sure she was still up to snuff. Only after a few minutes of further silent thought that prompted muttered conversations amongst the onlookers did Regina reach back, hitting the button to start the course once more.

Ninety minutes had gone by and several magazines of ammunition before Regina hit the button on the terminal to return. As the platform slid smoothly back to the walkway, she mused on her performances. She'd had plenty of good times, but nothing beating the record she'd set two months prior. How could she get better? She was just a hair off her most efficient, even if to the untrained eye it appeared she moved with the fluidity, grace, and efficiency of a machine. Notably, however, Regina had decided to forgo using her cybernetics at all-all her shooting was done from her right hand. The platform docked at the walkway, and Regina took slow steps towards the range's exit, figuring she could do with a bit of a snack to replenish her strength. Metallic clank and booted step walked in slow rhythm, Regina noting the way other soldiers avoided eye contact and moved to get out of her way. Whispers that didn't reach her ears, but were easy enough to understand all the same. It matters little...what does matter is that I succeed. And I have.

[Hannelorian]

Anke remained still after having positioned herself to watch Regina attempt her first run. To use the word impressive would have been an understatement. Much to Anke's own surprise before she set out, Regina had in fact responded almost entirely neutrally, but in a sense had offered an invitation. Lord forbid the soldier given actual advice aside from to watch her. So, Anke would take the woman up on the offer and implacably watch the performance. There were a few things of note, that Anke probably could have learned simply from asking another person, but no, Anke liked to learn information for herself.

Regina preferred her human hand, flesh and bone. An interesting choice. Anke assumed that Regina's replacement limbs were top of the line, perhaps even experimental. There was no way her human hand could outperform what she had been gifted. If one would call it a gift. Anke challenged that notion. "Confident." Anke whispered, turning her head a bit to the soldier standing beside her who nodded in agreement. "I wonder... if she doesn't trust herself, or if she's just that stubborn she won't take the assistance." It was enough to make Anke smile ever so softly, almost unnoticeable.

As promised and the tales told, Regina made no obvious expression, hardly any movement that was unintended. She was perfectly placid, almost like a statue, almost. But there was something there, there had to be. When the finalized time posted, Anke stared at it, almost in disbelief. "But not good enough for you is it?" Anke was seemingly asking Regina the question, though that would have been impossible.

"She's the Terminator for a reason." The voice beside her reminded Anke, who raised her hand and almost waived him off. "Run along now, can't you see I'm busy?" Anke asked while dismissing the man. For the next 90 minutes or so Anke watched each and every run, noting slight differences in Regina's movements. She was gaming it out in her head, she had to be. Questioning what she could do better each and every time, adjusting accordingly. While Anke couldn't see what Regina had, Anke knew enough to know that nothing would please Regina save for breaking her own record, a day that was not this day. When Regina had emerged finally, the others all quickly moved out of her way, save for Anke who stepped into it, not moving, her hands still in her pockets where she had left them.

"Nice work in there." Anke spoke cooly, calmly, as though she held no fear. But that wouldn't be exactly true. It would be almost impossible not to be intimidated by someone with such a record and reputation as Regina Carlisle. It would frankly, be stupid not take such a person seriously. "I'm pleased to see the rumours are true. You really are the best." Anke smiled brightly, showing her perfectly white teeth and then bowed her head, stepping aside to let Regina pass and move freely as intended. Why is it all of the pretty ones are so fucked up?

The only way Anke would learn, was to do, and so Anke continued moving forward to step into the range and ascend to the same platform that Regina had. Withdrawing her firearm, she stood poised and in position. Unlike Regina, Anke appeared to waste no time in composing herself, or centering in any regard. She almost immediately slammed her open palm on the red button to begin the course. The desert, a favorite environment. So much complexity in a seemingly desolate environment. Everything was a factor, light, wind, the patterns of the targets. But all it took was concentration, and perhaps a little luck.

The smile dropped from her face as the gun raised the moment the targets emerged from their assorted deployment points. Still and calm Anke began to fire her weapon without wasting a single second. The wood and plastic of her targets shattering, splintering as she fired directly into the center of the targets. One after the other. The only movement of her body was that of her arm, repositioning to hit targets barely visible, or those almost imperceptibly hitting those just peaking out from behind the another. And as quickly as it began, it was over. Anke lowered her arm, having successfully hit each and every target, though somewhat slower than she had hoped. A final time of 40.812 seconds. Still not quite Regina's record. "Pity." Anke spoke to herself before stepping down, opting not for another round.

[Iwazuma]

While Regina was usually afforded the peace and quiet of not being addressed, for the second time that evening a voice called out specifically to her, causing her to briefly return to reality to deal with it. Surprisingly, it was the new girl a second time. It seemed as though she had taken her advice and watched her work, if the compliment was anything to go by. Even so, it rang just the slightest bit hollow. She was the best...and yet still not good enough. It wasn't enough to simply be the best, she had to be capable of the speeds and accuracy needed to serve Osnen properly. If she didn't...they would find someone who would. Regina said nothing, merely cocking her head at the newcomer. She was...strange. So willingly approaching the most fearsome threat in Osnen's reserves and trying to be nice. Maybe she just didn't know better. Maybe she had a deathwish and hoped Regina might snap. Regardless, it was quite confusing.

And yet, as Regina planned to head to the mess hall, she stopped as the woman strode past her, directly into the gallery. While it was not inconceivable that she had wanted to train, the timing felt...just a tad too suspicious. Her eyes narrowed, Regina turned back on her heel, walking back the way she came, though this time hanging a left to head to the spectator's section. Just what was this woman doing? Was she challenging her? Regina mused to herself as the section mostly cleared out upon her presence, only a few brave soldiers daring to remain in the top rows around her as she watched from the front. She kept her eyes peeled on the new girl, curious and all the while wondering just what she was up to...

She didn't get long to watch, but in a single minute her thoughts flared from mild interest to flaring concern. 40.812. What soldiers remained to watch let a ripple of murmurs throughout the stands. Nobody had even beaten 41 seconds besides Regina, and that time was only a tenth of a second off of hers. Regina could hear the comments behind her. 'Almost Terminator-level.' 'New girl's giving her a run for her money.' Regina grit her teeth. Was that her game? To show up unannounced out of left field and try to rip her record out from under her? Regina knew it was irrational to root against someone, to wish them harm, but for her to so casually come within a hair's breadth of taking the record...

I was right. I'm truly not good enough if she came...that close...

Regina shivered for a moment, mind flashing to the possible consequences if she let herself be complacent. She quickly shook off her demons, her eyes never straying from the blonde as she stepped down from the course after a single attempt. That was apparently good enough for her, but to Regina it hardly mattered. She was not about to let her scores come into question or undergo a threat such as this. She would prove herself superior. Rather than head back to take the path as normal, Regina jumped over the railing in one fluid movement, landing softly in the sands of the course and taking purposeful strides to the main podium. She was not about to be upstaged. Not when she had so much at stake.

She quickly hit the button to start and unholstered her pistol in the same movement. Her arm flew from target to target, Regina quickly beginning to process her movements like a computer. Not a single movement was wasted as she hit bullseye after bullseye, eventually finishing the course on one knee as she finished a target at chest height in the distance. 40.856. Not good enough. Barely had the targets vanished back into their original positions had Regina swapped magazines and hit the button again, starting the course anew and letting her mind go blank, her movements mechanical and only growing more so as she let herself lose herself in the course. 40.844. Again.

40.888. Again. 40.907. Again. 40.815. Again. 40.876. Again.

For two hours and more, Regina remained in the gallery, taking shot after shot as she continued to fire away endlessly, a Sisyphean task before her as she continued to grow frustrated with her results. Most of the spectators had left by the time the clock struck midnight, and still Regina pushed herself further and further. Again. Again. A- Regina's thoughts stalled as she saw her most recent time. 42.010. She was slipping. Her cybernetic arm gripped the railing, her grip tightening until one could almost see where her metallic fingers managed to carve grooves into the titanium. Regina forced herself to her feet; her stomach was rumbling, and her right arm was shaking ever so slightly, but she refused to let herself end on such a poor showing.

Regina hit the button once again, but this time kept the pistol in her left hand. Her mechanical arm snapped from target to target, Regina barely moving and hardly so much as looking at any target as they popped up and dropped in mere milliseconds. Regina had fallen purely to instinct, having run this course so many times that she simply let her arm move of its own accord. Her movements had fallen to nearly robotic, but as she fired the last round in her magazine and the target dropped, Regina looked up at the digital board and heaved a long sigh. 39.904. Nearly a full second off her best.

Only then did her exhaustion finally catch up with her. As the adrenaline of her dedication finally wore off, Regina dropped to one knee, catching her breath as she shook her head, sending droplets of sweat falling to the floor. She remained there for a full minute before standing upright again, walking rigidly out of the gallery. She wouldn't beat that. She refused to believe that fact. All she knew was that the new girl had some incredible nerve. So much so that in her focus, Regina didn't realize her stomach was growling in protest loudly enough for anyone nearby to hear.

[Hannelorian]

There was no real way for Anke to understand or be aware of what she had just done, what she had set into motion. Anke was eager to prove her skills and her own worth. So why not go after the best? After all, she hadn't even bested Regina. Anke probably could have, maybe, if she kept at it. But Anke hadn't. She called it one and done. Anke was for the moment contented to grab the second place slot on the leaderboard. But Regina wasn't about to go down without a fight. But Anke didn't know what for, what was the fight? What was the point? She hadn't done it.

The praise of the few who remained in the corridor, who had watcher performance was pleasant. She was the one who got the closest and it was only her first time on this particular shooting range. Anke had been transferred for a reason. Anke was good, not the best yet. But damn good. It quickly became apparent that Anke had done something wrong, something unsavory. Regina who had done her the curtesy of watching her performance was now heading back into the gallery.

"The cat has claws." Anke delivered the line with a smirk and shook her head, throwing her hands up in the air to demonstrate a lack of understanding. Returning to the spectator section, Anke positioned herself to be comfortable. If anything it would be worth it to watch her competition, but Anke felt more than that, she felt a need to understand the woman who she had just seemingly pissed right the fuck off.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Over and over Regina ran the course, and each time she seemed to be getting a little bit worse. Just ever so much worse. Now Anke had some degree of understanding. "She's in her head. I seem to have struck a nerve." It didn't matter that Anke hadn't addressed her comment to anyone in particular.

Again.

Again.

Time after time after time until finally Regina seemed to have snapped and resorted to allowing her mechanical arm to assist her in her task. And only then did she beat her own record. Now that was something to see. Then, Regina collapsed to a knee and Anke rose to her feet, resting her hands upon the barrier, once again shaking her head. "I hope it was worth it." Anke new that someone like Regina, it would be worth it. It meant safety and security. Fulfillment of purpose. Anke wouldn't try again tonight, best to give the woman a break. For now at least.

Anke left the gallery and went on her way, finally to see Regina attempting to retreat and be done with the day. Regina's stomach was growling, she had worked herself so hard. At least that part of her was still intact. Anke stopped before and thrust a water bottle in Regina's direction. "Here." Anke offered kindly. "Care for a bite to eat?" Anke was friendly, like she held no ill will, no feelings of jealousy. Anke had none. Anke knew she wasn't at that level. "Even the sharpest shooter has to eat sometime. At least that's what your stomach is telling me." There was a polite little laugh that escaped Anke's lips. For all intents and purposes she seemed incredibly genuine in her offer.

[Iwazuma]

There was that woman again. As Regina took slow steps out of the gallery, hunger and exhaustion driving her movements above all else, that woman appeared before her yet again, acting as if nothing had happened whatsoever. There was a bright smile on her face that Regina found confusing above all else. What was her ploy? Tire her out with a threat at her record? Or what? She'd even brought a water bottle, blissfully unaware that she had threatened Regina's entire livelihood a few hours prior. Regina stopped short, her expression blank as amber eyes scanned the woman before her, as if assessing and analyzing for a source of weakness. Finding little to work with, Regina merely blinked, standing a bit more upright. "I don't understand." She spoke softly, with a voice that betrayed her position and nature. It wasn't the voice of a hardened professional long-distance assassin, but rather the voice of an artist, a nurse.

To the offering of food, Regina seemed to click in her head that she was in fact hungry. To the blonde, however, she didn't address that question. "People...don't approach me. Who sent you?" Regina asked blankly, breaking eye contact and moving past the woman without taking the water bottle or giving any sort of affirmation as to whether she was allowing her to join her for food. What was also absent from her response was a 'no'. Regina didn't seem to mind much either way; if anything, the contact was downright unusual. People didn't approach her; what soldiers were unaware of her usually were either immediately put off by her aloof, robotic demeanor or else heard the rumors of RoboCop ahead of time and kept their distance. So far, this girl had done...neither.

The mess hall was exactly as one might expect of an army barracks. There was a centralized area where generic Osnen-brand food was dispensed from those who conscripted to work in the galley; while many called it slop, Regina found it did not offend the taste buds in the slightest, and was in fact a perfect nutritional blend for a needing soldier. There were plenty of in-barracks restaurants as well, where one could grab any manner of food they desired for only a modest cut from the weekly pay. Most soldiers ate together in the common area, with a bevy of large school-style tables serving as a means both to eat and to converse with their fellow soldier, while some chose to dine either in the restaurants themselves or in various leisure areas. Regina often chose her personal dorm, but with the way her body ached, she didn't think she'd make it that far.

She pushed herself to the central slop dispensary, grabbing a plate and accepting a plate of bread and 'slop' from a neutral-faced server who didn't give Regina the time of day. She appreciated that about them; to the common worker, she was just another soldier, not just someone who needed to be avoided. They treated most of the rank and file with the same amount of apathy, only brightening when one of their friends or a higher-up happened to stop by. Regina accepted her plate and poured herself a glass of apple juice and made her way to a far corner of the mess hall, setting up her plate as far away from any other soldiers as she could manage. Luckily for her, it was well past 1 in the morning, so she didn't exactly have much work to do to eke out a corner for herself. Only once she found herself situated did she look up again to see if that woman had followed her. She'd been the one who'd asked if she was hungry...if she remembered correctly.

[Hannelorian]

Anke could only shake her head as Regina did her best to interact. It was interesting in the sense that Regina was not actively pushing her away, but rather seemed to tolerate her presence, which on occasion was more than one could rightfully ask for. Anke wouldn't necessarily blame Regina if she couldn't be bothered to give her the time of day. But in the absence of no, Anke slowly and dutifully followed behind Regina until they reached the mess and Regina had acquired her hard earned portion of slop and bread. Ah the delectable taste of slop, perfectly designed to meet all of one's nutritional needs.

The notion that someone must have sent Anke was an interesting one. Slowly but surely Anke was beginning to get the smallest glimpses into how Regina viewed the world around her, apparently with some degree of suspicion. Then again, based on Regina's own words, people did not approach her. So this entire interaction pattern must have seen strange, out of the ordinary and as a result must be a negative. A touch of paranoia. How joyous a thought. Perhaps Anke would have been wise to let it alone and simply allow Regina to eat in the solitude that she so clearly wanted. But that was not Anke, not in the slightest. Anke was pushy. She didn't take no for an answer most of the time, but here there wasn't a no to argue with, which meant it was probably fine.

Following Regina back to her table, Anke sat across from her, crossing her legs at the ankles, and rested her hands in her lap though Anke did not have the intention of eating. "You know, it's rather rude to refuse something as simple as water." There was the faintest hint of a giggle. Anke was not offended by this refusal. "No one sent me." She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes, but for their first proper meeting perhaps Anke would be better served by exercising caution. "I suppose now I'm being the rude one." Anke nodded her head, and for a moment considered extending a hand but refrained.

"Anke de Heer. Fresh transfer." Introducing herself was the least she could do, it seemed unfair that she knew Regina, but Regina hadn't known her, not at all. "For a little bit there, I was starting to get worried." Anke had a rather nasty habit of just saying what she thought without particularly thinking it through. "But you pulled through, beat your own record. Put me to shame, that's for sure." Anke still seemingly unaware that it was her fault Regina fought so hard anyway.

[Iwazuma]

So she had decided to follow her. Regina gave her newfound confusion a quiet stare, evidently more than a little confused as to why she was still there. She figured she'd done enough to have herself be left alone as usual, but apparently this one either liked the quiet types or talked to literally nobody else. Strange. She wasn't exactly sure how to take that. She wasn't going to shoo her away; Regina was not a fan of conflict that did not involve serving Osnen, and had never once been involved in any sort of fight. She'd never even so much as risen her voice before. So she found herself thoroughly nonplussed; how was she to deal with this quite strange set of circumstances? She couldn't remember the last time she had decided to speak to others for recreation...let alone be forced to. She was mostly call signals and internal monologue these days.

Regina listened to what the woman had to say and pursed her lips slightly. Rude? It was strange to just...offer a stranger water. Regina looked at the kindness and questioned its motives. She'd just challenged her record...was the water poisoned? Was she being patronizing? Did somebody put her up to this? Regina didn't know how to process, so instead spoke her mind. "You are still here. I do not understand." Regina dropped her gaze to her food, dipping a piece of her bread in the slop and taking a slow, thoughtful bite. To many, that statement would have come off as quite rude, but to Regina she was merely voicing her inner dialogue. She truly didn't get why this woman was still talking to her. There had to be more interesting things-people-to go look at or speak to. A woman with her looks usually would be mingling with the other sex at this point...

Still, when she was formally introduced, Regina's training kicked in, and she sat upright, giving the Osnen salute: her right arm crossed diagonally over her collarbone and her left arm crossed over her sternum. "Regina Carlisle. Lieutenant second class, lead sniper." Regina gave her rank and file automatically before relaxing, taking another bite of bread and slop. What a curious name. Anke. Regina logged the name away, but froze when she mentioned her own record. She was watching that, too? She was quick to recover, and raised an eyebrow. "It had nothing to do with you." Not her in particular, anyways. If she had seen that her record had nearly been beaten, she would have fought tooth and nail to extend her lead no matter who it was. The fact that it was a fresh transfer didn't exactly make the blow any more soft, though.

By this time, a few soldiers had noticed Regina in her usual corner...but not alone as she usually was. Her trained senses picked up whispers just barely within earshot that Regina did not visibly react to. "You will develop a reputation if you continue speaking to me." She didn't seem angry, frustrated...or anything at all. She had not visibly emoted beyond confusion or exhaustion since the start of the day, in fact. "People...do not talk to me." Regina brought up the point once again, trying to get Anke to understand the social risks she was taking just associating with the Terminator.

[Hannelorian]

Regina was direct. It was, in a word, refreshing. There was no mincing of words, there was no awkward pause for the formation of thoughts. Regina simply said what she felt. She externalized her thoughts rather than refining them. Pleasant, if not a harsh tactic. Anke reasoned that it likely wasn't a tactic, but rather how she was trained to be, perhaps who she always had been since childhood. Hard to tell, and it seemed Regina would be unlikely to be so forthcoming on such a subject.

"There's nothing to understand, Regina." Anke said in a somewhat flat tone, slightly bemused at the situation. When it came to her own introduction Regina performed as expected, a soldier through and through. "I know who you are." A smile and an open chuckle, Anke leaned back into her chair and just stared back at Regina, now crossing her arms a bit. "You say it has nothing to do with me, but I'm not sure I believe you." Anke too, could be forward with her own thoughts and it seemed that with Regina she had little need to couch them in unnecessary pleasantries.

"It's this thing, you see... why I'm here." Anke began and then rested her elbows on the table, leaning in closer as though she were telling a secret. "Two people. Talking. Exchanging thoughts. It's like there's a word for it." Anke shook her head, now clearly having just a little bit of fun. "Yes, that's right. Conversation is the word I'm looking for." When Regina finally mentioned a reputation, it prompted Anke to look up and behind her, she had taken notice to a few souls lingering and watching, wondering. They were curious. Anke's only response was wave, and rather unironically blow a kiss in their direction before turning back to the real subject of interest.

"What sort of reputation? A bad one? Worse than yours?" Anke shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not scared of that childish shit. Besides, it's only a matter of time before I beat you."