psychoshenanigans | GRATIA // PSL

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GRATIA // PSL

So, here's what Irahl knows.

He's alone in a dark, cold cave. He has most, if not all, of his gear. No one is guarding his location. As he heads away from the spot where he came to consciousness, no one tries to stop him, and no one gets in his way. The few people he finds down there seem human, and not about to approach the nearly-seven-foot man that comes stalking out of the lower tunnels. Honestly, everyone here seems a surprised and a little astonished about his... Entire scene.

There is a way up. It's a maze of twisting corridors and confusing passageways, half of which feel too small for him. It's bigger and bigger groups of people, some of which scatter like schools of fish, and some of which have to be pushed through to get anywhere. It's climbing up into streets lit with dingy lights, graffiti-covered hallways, warehouses, weird holes in stone walls that may or may not be windows. It's alarm bells, it's people yelling at each other down the street. It's just an absurd number of stairs. A couple of people make an attempt to stop him somewhere, and it goes poorly for them.

Elsewhere, events are being set in motion where Irahl cannot see. But he's on his way out.

Eventually, more people try to stop him. At the end of another long stretch of Underground city, a group of official-looking folks are putting a real effort into blocking off the obvious exit, and some of them have weapons.

Down a side alley, into another tunnel, and then the space opens up into a... Plaza, of some sort? The floor is made of stone. The buildings surrounding it are made of stone and are hard to distinguish from one another. At at least the ceiling (also made of stone) is a lot higher than before. Cavernous. There's some kind of sculpture in the middle of it, some impressive feat of geometric stonework that gives the illusion of defying gravity despite weighing literal tons.

This is where someone finally catches him. Sounds have been echoing unhelpfully down every passageway, making it hard to tell if people are coming or going - but this series of quick footsteps comes from an upward direction before someone hits the ground about five feet in front of Irahl.

His clothes are different. His hair is better-kept. Maybe if the situation wasn't quite so tense, there'd be time to see the ways in which his face is different, the way his eyes don't have quite as vicious and sharp a gleam as they used to. But whatever Irahl can take in of him, there is Robin, having hopped down from a rooftop to put himself between him and the exit again.

"...Holy shit."

Kind of weird that he looks absolutely shocked to see the person in front of him, though.

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Irahl is a little surprised by Jandru's reply at first, but by the time he understands what they mean by it, they're already in the lobby and he refuses to say a word while they're in there. It's the gear he automatically falls into when around strangers, especially somewhere as antithetical to himself as an office building is. He just looms and waits and refuses to engage with anyone in any way.

So, it isn't until he and his escort are shut away in the stairwell that Irahl says the thing he would have said earlier if he hadn't had to pretend that a handful of people didn't exist.

"...Guess 'meet you at the bottom' hadn't been an option?" he quips, not because he'll be impatient at having to travel at their pace, but because he hadn't meant to have them relegated to not using the elevator as well.

He'd kind of envisioned that he would take the stairs while the much more mortal and less athletic assistant would go ahead and take the easy way to whatever floor was the destination. But, maybe letting him that far off his leash isn't an option yet.

There's a silence as Jandru stops to look at him, not entirely sure what he's talking about. They desperately start replaying the last ten minutes to see what they missed.

"Why would..." They start to ask, before their one visible eye widens, "Oh, did you mean--should I have taken the elevator?"

They laugh and keep moving. They're slightly uneven going down the stairs and lean pretty heavily on the railing, but they aren't actually that slow.

"Please, your navigation test isn't until tomorrow," they quip back.

There's a huff that probably would have been a laugh in most people other than Irahl, as the fact that he gives any reaction at all is pretty high praise. He hadn't been expecting a return-shot, let alone a funny one, and anyone who successfully trades humor back and forth with him earns automatic points.

He remembers why they'd made a good impression on him the first time. And it's a good sign that the two of them are able to get in at least one successful round of sarcastic comments when so much of their communication just doesn't seem to line up quite right.

With that settled, he's content to head down the stairs at their speed, even though his most comfortable pace on the stairs is to take two of them at a time.

It is nice to feel like something landed. They've weathered some rough seas of social interaction already and there's probably going to be more metaphorical choppy water before the day is over, so it's nice to know that underneath all that there's some part of their venn diagram circles that overlap.

Irahl is led down a few flights of stairs and into a hallway, then across a skybridge, and then down another hallway. They take a metal key card out of their bag, shove it into a slot next to the door, and an interior mechanism of the door unlocks. The door itself has a big, obnoxiously yellow paper sign on it that says "PROTOTYPE TESTING IN PROGRESS, DO NOT ENTER".

The room opens up onto a space about the size of a football field. Most of it is flat, a massive arena big enough for just about any kind of testing you could imagine, though one half of the field is filled with... Well, it's hard to tell exactly what. It could be piles of cars, it could be small show rooms, it could be several sets of jungle gyms; they're all covered in massive tarps and large canvas covers so that their real nature and purpose can remain a mystery until the relevant testing begins.

Most of the light is coming from the other side of the room, where a large section of the wall was left open to the elements for the purposes of shooting things away from the city and the building full of expensive people and equipment. It doubles as a nice place to get some sun, though.

The side they came in on is ringed with sandstone steps, some of which are normal-stair height and some of which are big enough to be used as seating. The door they walked through starts them up at the top of those steps, about ten feet up compared to the arena floor. Even from here, Irahl can make out plenty of spots where the stone has chipped or been pockmarked by bullets over the course of whatever goes on in here.

"Here we are..." Jandru announces, holding onto a rail as they start to head down the normal-sized stairs. "Let's get you started on the sniper course."

Looking out over the arena, Irahl can't help but do an idle comparison between it and the Derby, since that memory is still so fresh in his mind. Both the similarities and the differences between the two are pretty surreal, and it's hard to believe that he'd gone from one to the other in the span of a couple weeks.

Hearing that they're going to get right to sniping first, Irahl eagerly falls into line behind the assistant as they lead the way down, already slinging the heavy bag off of his shoulder to carry at his side as if it's a briefcase and not a seventy-pound drag bag of equipment.

"Great." He's so excited, he even used a word.

In many ways, the technological advancement of the Capitol is actually lagging behind the things that are hidden in the toxic trash-pits of Skeleton City. The scrap rats have a pretty comprehensive understanding of some things the people here have barely dreamed of. But for all that the Capitol lacks as far as scientific, mechanical, and technological breakthroughs, they make up for with rigorous standards.

The place looks clean, structurally sound, and they had the decency to set up most of it ahead of time. It's hard to imagine loose explosives or random knives grafted onto guns around here.

And to put that even more in perspective, another figure comes into view as Irahl follows Jandru down the stairs. Reedy build, tan skin, blonde hair tied up and out of their face. They're wearing loose-fitting clothes that are tightened at the waist with a wide sash. Full arms of tattoos are visible just beyond their large sleeves, and a pair of safety goggles are resting on top of their head.

They're standing in front of what looks like a small makeshift workstation--a wooden table with a couple of chairs nearby, some bags of tools on top, and what look like ice chests underneath. They're holding up a radio to their ear as they enter, listening to a static channel for something.

"Oh!" Jandru says, just as this person looks over, "Great, let me introduce you..."

The stranger smiles, puts down the radio, and starts heading over to intercept them at the bottom of the stairs. They've got some pretty dark circles under their eyes, but otherwise they have an easy expression, all their fingers, and they aren't using brightly-colored trash as jewelry.

"You're our new applicant, right? Nikaro, nice to meet you."

The stranger, Nikaro, will hold their hand out to shake Irahl's hand.

"Yes, they'll be helping me with setup," Jandru explains.

The sight of another person doesn't make Irahl balk per se, but there is a hesitation as the gears of his forward momentum grind against an obstacle that he hadn't been expecting.

If his work-mode hadn't been primed to be so intense today, and if people other than Jandru didn't represent a threat that is so immediate that he has to actively keep it in mind whenever it presents itself, the reaction would have been smoother.

As it is, he slows to a stop just outside of handshake range, before looking at the stranger's hand for the moment needed to decide whether or not he actually needs to engage. After the brief pause, he takes the half-step forward needed to reach a hand out and accept the gesture, and he does so in the most efficient way possible--while also making sure his filed-down claws don't touch them.

He doesn't say his name or anything, or even nod. Just the handshake.

Nikaro's eyebrows raise slightly at what is overall a very stiff introduction, but they keep the handshake nice and brief before letting out a little bit of a laugh.

"Not a big talker, huh?"

"No," supplies Jandru, stepping in, "But he only stepped off a cargo ship about an hour ago."

The stranger looks even more surprised, and shakes their head. They have a very easygoing sort of energy, and seem like the kind of person who finds their words easily. They seem very comfortable regarding someone who's easily a foot taller than they are.

"Ah, no wonder. This can be a lot to take in. But don't worry about me--I'll be up in the booth pressing buttons most of the time," and they jab a thumb in the direction of a small, windowed room perched back at the top of the stands, "Maybe I'll pop out if a door's being stubborn, but otherwise this is all Jandru's show."

Jandru seems to straighten a little as this is brought up.

"Speaking of that," Nikaro turns to address them instead, "Radios are ready. We're on channel one, channel two includes the third radio if you need it."

Jandru nods, thanking them. Nikaro nods in return and gives both of them a friendly "good luck!" before they start making their way up the stairs to head up to whatever central command setup must be located in that booth.

Jandru lets out a breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding, but otherwise doesn't hesitate to get them moving towards that odd little table setup.

"In case they never bother explaining it to you," they say to Irahl, "They're the unit's second-in-command, but they're also our equipment expert."

The sniper is more than happy to be talked around. It sets up a good precedent, honestly. If he starts pretending to be more sociable now, they'll all expect it as time goes by. It's also more honest. In his opinion, it's much better to start at zero.

And least, that's what he thinks until he hears that they are the second-in-command. It might or might not have actually impacted his introduction, but it would have been nice to know. Too late to take back a first impression now.

Oh well. Just got to make sure his performance today makes up for it.

He responds with an acknowledging "hmm," so at least the assistant knows that this important fact has been noted.

Nikaro, despite apparently being the second-most important person in the entirety of this super-classified, highly-specialized special operations unit, climbs into their booth like this is just another day at work. The windows of the booth are thick, but fully transparent, so at least Irahl can glance up at any point to see if they really are just in there toggling switches and minding their own business like they implied.

At the table, Jandru sits down in one of those chairs, grabs one of the radios, and sets their file of papers and other writing accoutrements on the table in front of them.

"Take whatever time you need to set up your rifle," they say, though this statement is underpinned by their reaching over to push down a button on top of what looks an awful lot like some kind of clock.

Timed or not, Irahl does not exactly hurry. Everything he does is focused and efficient, but if he has noticed the clock, it doesn't obviously impact how he moves. Once he's given the go-ahead, he scans around for the place most likely to be where they're expecting him to set up, and he heads there without further clarification.

Once he has chosen his place and unzipped his bag of gear, two things need to happen before he does anything with his rifle: put the second tiny speaker into his ear, and take out and set aside a couple of pairs of neatly-folded clothes. This drag bag is his only luggage, so that's where he'd had to pack the few belongings to his name that don't normally belong in this bag. Once those are out of the way, then he can properly set up.

Irahl has many strong feelings and opinions on the skills and behaviors that a sniper should have, so he doesn't rush. Especially with music playing in his ears, he tunes the world out and focuses on working exactly as he would if he'd been on a job. Of course, he doesn't set up like he would when he knows he'll be settling in for the long haul, so it's an abbreviated setup, but he otherwise removes the thought of a clock from his mind until the task is complete.

While Irahl is setting up, Jandru does some setup of their own--gathering a number of other clocks and timers from out of one of the bags of tools and setting them up in a line in front of their makeshift station. They periodically look up to watch Irahl setting up his rifle, but a majority of that time is otherwise spent jotting down all the notes they'd taken in their head prior to sitting down.

Going slowly isn't a bad thing. Many of these tests are not pass-or-fail so much as they are a simple observation of how Irahl reacts when certain pressures are applied. While it'd be impressive if he set up in record time, it would bring into question whether or not he understands the ramifications of doing so.

They watch very closely when it seems like he's getting close to done, so that they can stop the clock and record the time as accurately as possible.

"Zero your rifle," they instruct, pushing themselves back up. They pick up a clipboard, and walk over to inspect his rifle from a closer distance. Out the 'window', some distance away, a thin track raises up from some platform far below them, and off of that track a single small target hinges up on a thin arm of its own.

"The target is a hundred meters out," they state, starting to look over the gun for any details out of place, signs of wear, things like that. They've never actually seen a gun this big, but from their tiny nods it would seem that they're at least familiar with what it's supposed to look like.

Edited 2024-10-03 19:25 (UTC)

A lot of complicated math goes into firing at range, but Irahl's rifle is theoretically close to if not completely zeroed already, and he knows the particulars of this individual weapon better than he knows himself. So, instead of a long and drawn-out process to zero his rifle from scratch, he slaps on his visor and proceeds to mostly just double-check that his scope and rifle are already at the level of synchrony he expects--and judging by the three nearly-identical shots meticulously blowing away the center of the target, they are.

Jandru gets to watch the rifle at work in the meantime, both the shocking power of it and the relatively small amount of chaos it causes when it fires. They'll also likely be able to note the extreme quality of every piece of Irahl's equipment, despite them all looking a little battle-worn. Beyond the obvious craftsmanship that had gone into creating his rifle--including a killer muzzle brake, hydraulics in the stock, and floating barrel of the highest quality--even his scope and whatever is going on with his visor are top-of-the-line. It makes the notes he'd previously given on all of them become more clear.

Once Irahl is satisfied with his test, he gives a short nod. "We're good."

Jandru is taking their lead of these test scenarios very seriously. This is a big opportunity for them, almost as much as it is for Irahl. They're trying so hard to embody all the professionalism and attention to detail that Seth would be radiating, were he here.

But for all their tactical personas and razor-sharp focus, they cannot stop themselves from beaming at the first three shots from this absolutely beautiful rifle. They'd be getting marked down for this one, for sure.

"Let's get some basics," they say, eyes bright with delight, "Do you happen to know your longest distance record off the top of your head?"

The rest of this test will commence about how one would expect; they ask him to shoot some stationary targets at further and further distances, eventually asking him to hit targets so far outside city limits that they're a barely-perceivable speck out in the sand even with the rifle. Jandru has a pair of binoculars, but for the furthest targets they have to radio up to the booth to confirm whether or not Irahl even hit the thing.

And then there's the moving targets, which are shot out of pressurized canons at a similar range of distances. It's not an exact replacement for creatures moving in the wild, but it'll give them a rough picture of how quickly this guy can adjust his aim. A couple of the targets even shift mid-flight, suddenly launched in some new and random direction by a second blast canister strapped to the back of the target.

If there's anything that keeps Irahl in a mood to interact with others, it's a proper appreciation for his rifle. It helps for things like answering questions about his records and statistics without launching off into side-tangents on any number that he feels doesn't accurately reflect his skills. Instead, he talks more about the various types of records he keeps track of, such as the difference between shots fired in an artificial range versus out in the field, and 'hits' versus 'kills'--including different stats for each size category of creature.

...Even so, he still can't help but mention that he only counts 'kills' as being those which had been successfully completed with one shot, which perhaps hurts his numbers, and mentions that he's better at hunting live targets than he is at firing at inanimate targets.

This perhaps proves itself to be true when it comes time to face off against the moving targets. His frustration had already begun beforehand with his performance being not as good as he'd like with the distant stationary targets, as he has dealt with shooting through heat distortion plenty of times before, but that was nothing compared to what he's experiencing now in the desert. He still hits targets nearly a mile out, but it's not what he'd been hoping for himself. So, he starts to get frustrated when they move on to the moving ones and he doesn't perform as well as he wants to there either.

For the slower and closer targets, he is able to impressively pick his rifle up and brace it while kneeling with improbable success. Once the difficulty ramps up from there, though, so does his frustration. He's still a very good marksman, but several things add up for this to be in neither his nor his rifle's comfort zone.

Finally, once yet another direction-changing target escapes unscathed, his patience quietly snaps. He looks like he is one step from figuring out a way to parkour down there and stab the thing himself. Growling quietly, he mutters to his audience of one while he ejects the empty magazine and loads up a new one.

"...I hate small targets. And no body language to watch."

It's starting to feel like one of those exercises that he famously labels as 'pointless' and refuses to do anymore back home. His career isn't hunting little metal shapes. He hunts large, living, dangerous creatures. So, he's still attempting the exercise until they tell him to stop, but his tolerance is eroding quickly.

They're fully aware that the range on a few of these targets is insane. Even at the upper limits of human ability, and with very, very good gear, they wouldn't expect accuracy. But this is just as much about getting a sense of how Irahl deals with stress and bad conditions as it is about getting some distances recorded. And, you know, learning that he can hold his rifle up like it doesn't weigh fifty pounds.

They let him take a few more shots after his complaint, then call for him to stop and follow them back to the table.

Jandru heads over, fishes a couple of metal cups out of the bottom of a tool bag, and fills them up at a wide spigot on one of those two cooler-looking things below the table. They hand one to Irahl, revealing that it's water filled with ice chunks. They drink some themselves, having just sat in the sun for a while, before they radio up to the booth.

"Nikaro, could you bring the weights down?"

"Copy that," Irahl hears through the tinny speaker, shortly before they reemerge from the booth and start heading down the stairs.

"Let's get you on the course," Jandru says to Irahl, setting down their water.

The course, as it turns out, is about half of the mess of things that are set up on the other side of the arena. They have Irahl stand on a little red X marked with chalk on the floor. Jandru presses a button on a panel on a wall, which causes a winch to lift the canvas and reveal a enviably challenging obstacle course. While perhaps not as sophisticated as the one he encountered up in space-jail, they've still done a lot with what they have. Jandru doesn't give Irahl much time to strategize.

"Get to the green X on the other side as fast as you can, don't leave the marked boundaries." They start a hand-held timer, "Go."

Irahl takes a drink of the offered water more to have a sensory experience, chewing on some ice chips to help him transition between two tasks, than for a real need for hydration. He leaves the cup behind again as quickly as Jandru does.

After missing out on the satisfaction of handily destroying as many things at a distance as he'd wanted, he is more than ready to move his body around. As soon as he catches on that some kind of obstacle course is next, he shucks off his cloak--giving a better view of his fancy flex armor--and makes sure that the speakers are fitted securely into his ears. He'd be even more agile if he'd leave behind his coat and tactical vest as well, but he wouldn't shed those as willingly as he would leave his cloak behind in the field, so he keeps them on for now.

And though he is attempting to analyze what he's looking at and strategize before the tarp has been fully removed, he doesn't hesitate in bolting forward as soon as he hears the word 'go.'

He absolutely is running in before he has fully processed anything, but even if he'd known exactly what he's got ahead of him, his answer to the puzzle would likely be the same, because it's the same impulse he follows while out on the job--go up.

So, instead of jogging into the space that is clearly meant to be the start of the path through the obstacles, Irahl runs to build up speed so that he can just... kick off of the nearest solid object as soon as he's inside the marked boundary and use it to propel himself up, using his insane reach to grab onto some scaffolding above what the average soldier would consider a sane and reasonable thing to go for. But, with a huff of exertion, he pulls himself up and climbs until he reaches whatever he can stand on that is essentially above many of the initial obstacles, and hurries from there.

If he can climb over the top of barriers, and get a better view of what he's working with from eight feet up, he's gonna do it. Everything makes more sense from above. He's sure there are things he won't be able to get around, and maybe things that can still reach him up there, (as he's sure that something in here is probably primed to shoot or swing at him,) but he takes off running along the top of whatever he can.

Unlike a lot of big guys, he has zero fear of heights and great balance, so he's going to ride that as far as he can.

There's a lot of stuff up here. Including a couple of immediate threats--one is a small cannon that starts launching sandbags at alarming speed in scattershot bursts all over the "top" of the course, and the other is some sort of grease all over every surface that would otherwise look easy to walk along.

There is another small detail that may or may not escape his notice - down on the ground, there are several more small chalk Xs on the ground in a few places, though none of them are red or green. What does that mean? Maybe time will tell.

Jandru hustles up to the top of the stairs to try not to lose sight of Irahl for long.

Edited 2024-10-04 01:20 (UTC)

Oh, well then. Color him surprised. The sandbag canon is expected but far more formidable than he'd imagined, and the grease is completely new. So new, in fact, that he almost misses it completely. Luckily, the first things that he climbs and clambers along are not sane things to traverse, so he fairs okay. But when he swings up to land on something that does seem platform-like, he comes very close to immediately slipping and breaking his neck.

He'd been too busy watching the canon's activity, but he very quickly learns his lesson to watch his feet and the surfaces underneath them. For his trouble, he has no other choice but just... take the full force of a sandbag straight to the chest while he's still trying to figure out what to do about the grease around him.

He braces for impact, but still grunts with the force of being hit by something that would have absolutely taken someone smaller off of their feet--and would have toppled him too, honestly, if he hadn't seen it coming. And it's when the sandbag falls to the platform at his feet, and he then uses it as a greaseless surface to stand on, he gets an idea.

Because, he would really like to stay up here for as long as he can. Cannon or no cannon, he can see where this upper path will get him farther than scurrying around on the ground will, and he doesn't particularly want to find out what those other X's are about. So, he waits for the next volley, and this time purposefully catches the sandbag flying toward him.

Ignoring the pain that it causes in his filed-down claws, he pulls a move that is very rare for him, which is to dig in with his claws and sharp canines to rip apart part of the seam on one end. As sand starts to pour out, he gives the bag a good fling to start throwing it onto the path ahead of him. It isn't perfect, but it's enough to give the treads of his boots something to grip onto as he scrambles along the top of this barrier, watching the trajectory of projectiles as he goes.

Not a lot of people take the high route through the obstacle course--and even fewer people make it past getting pelted with one of those extra-large sand bags. Jandru reaches the top and peers back down; they're just in time to see his clever choice to catch and rip open a sand bag.

Irahl can make it about halfway through the obstacle course before he starts running into a new problem--an entire section of the course that's a lot flimsier than it looks. Boards suddenly thinner, trapdoors, supports that aren't actually attached to one another, all things designed to try and drop someone on top into the middle of the mess.

At first, he underestimates the persistence with which things up here are built to crumble. He catches the first couple before disaster strikes, but he foolishly thinks that will be the worst of it, and expects that he'll hit a new sort of trap after that. But then his foot goes straight through a board, falling through almost all the way up to his thigh before he catches himself.

That's when he gets a little annoyed.

For this obstacle course, he has put himself into the mental gear that he slips into when trying to catch up to some target racing through the ruins before it gets away. It's a familiar gear for him, obstacle courses are pretty similar to the ruins he often goes hunting in, and it fits the hurried timing of the test. He'd get similarly annoyed in the real-world scenario, so he does here what he would do back home.

Looking around, he searches his near vicinity for something to tear down or tip over. A scaffolding, some support structure, part of a wall--anything that looks sturdy enough to help support his weight that he can rip away from wherever it's supposed to be and shove over to help bridge the rickety path he's on.

Well, that's... One way to solve that part of the course. The construction is built to withstand a pretty fair amount of damage, but it's also not exactly a disqualifier if the whole thing happens to come down around him. They didn't say he can't break stuff, just that he had to get to the other side quickly.

So there he is--a bridge to get over the worst of it, ripped out of the scaffolding. The remainder of the obstacle course is fairly straightforward (aside from more sand bags and a bit where he either has to scale a wall or finally descend below it to get across), until the green X is finally in sight on the ground.

Those sandbags won't catch him unawares again, so he makes sure not to get winged by one as he scales the wall (because Irahl will always opt to go up and over something when the other choice is to go underneath) before he spots the goal.

He doesn't clamber down carefully to reach the X. He jumps nimbly down, but he does so from up on his perch, which is far above where someone should be concerned about their ankles on the way down. He, of course, has no such fear. Dropping down, he hits the ground like a dexterous meteor, before taking his place on the X a couple of long-legged strides later.

While it would have been hilarious if a trapdoor opened and plunged him into a pit-trap or something, no such tricks await him on his way to the green X--unless you count the numerous red Xs also in the area, but Irahl remembers his instructions. On the top step, Jandru scribbles down the recorded end time on their clipboard.

"Good," they call out to him across the arena, not about to give him more than a moment's break, "From here, get to the yellow X as quickly as you can. Don't leave the marked boundaries. Time starts... Now."

It will quickly become clear that everything before this was kind of a warm-up; they let him off easy by starting with something he's familiar with. The rest of the day will be an onslaught of challenges, one after the other, carefully-coordinated by Jandru to use up each and every one of Irahl's minutes here to get some kind of work done.

There's the challenge of finding the yellow X hidden deep in the obstacle course, which tests both how well he was paying attention to his environment during the first run and how quickly he can make up for it if he wasn't. The yellow X is small, but visible from the top of the course. However, by the time Irahl gets up there, they've swapped out one of the sandbag cannons for what's essentially a high-pressure fire hose with much better aim.

After that, he's asked to lift a 100lb weight in the air. Then they tell him to dismantle and repack his rifle.

Then they unveil the stealth course, which is a mock-up of a crumbling, two-story building. Then instruct him to get from the entry door to the second story, then set up his rifle at a window, staying as hidden and quiet as possible along the way. As soon as that's done, they tell him to come down and lift a 120lb pound weight in the air.

They make him catch or dodge balls shot at him from high-pressure canons, they put him on a jungle-gym-looking construction where they can test his balance, then they send him back to the open wall and set up a bunch of mid-range targets for them to test his skill with other kinds of firearms. They'll test with whatever guns he has with him, but will also provide a couple of theirs for him to try as well. Between all of these tasks, they ask him to lift things with increasingly large weight before moving on.

While Jandru never offers him more water, there's always a cup waiting for him if he wants it, and whether it's part of a test or simply force of habit from Jandru's years as a personal assistant, they periodically make sure it's filled with fresh ice.

There's the puzzle box--a space filled with challenges one must solve before they can "escape" from the room. They warn him about it ahead of time given that it's intentionally a small, enclosed space, and try very hard not to look disappointed when Irahl gives it a hard pass. True to their word, they don't make any efforts to force him into the room, or even ask why he refuses to participate. They follow it up with a straightfoward speed test, where they make him run the length of perimeter of the erena with only a few walls to scale and no other complications. They make him run it seven times to get a range of scores, and to see if he'll show any signs of tiring.

At some point, the sun has fallen very low in the sky. As breakneck a speed as they've all been going, they do pause for dinner. Nikaro emerges from their booth to sit on the steps near the long table, quietly eating whatever takeout Jandru got delivered here. Irahl's offered food as well, and once Jandru finally starts eating there's a good ten minutes where they zone out and only eat. There may very well be a long stretch of time where no one says a word, all of them industriously working to restore their depleted calories around this makeshift dinner table.

The quickest way to summarize these hours of testing is that there is good news and there is bad news, and both of which is the fact that Irahl had not been exaggerating about himself. He is highly skilled, his abilities are generally above what is considered normal for a human, there are a couple stark deficits and refusals mixed in there, and--for better or worse--he is very difficult to tire out. He'd come into this thing at the peak of rest and with full stores of energy, so he just... keeps going.

The first thing that is confirmed about him is that he has incredible determination and focus, but that focus is narrow. When they send him back through the maze to look for a yellow X that he hadn't noticed, the fact that he frowns is clear despite his face-coverings.

Then comes one thing that he hadn't mentioned. When he heads back up to the top of the obstacle course and is surprised by a water cannon, it doesn't hit him normally. As he's surprised by it, throwing his arms up to shield his face, there is a partially-visible shimmer and the water seems to glance off of him more than hit him directly. He's knocked slightly off course, but the blast doesn't have nearly the punch that it should.

After that, he's gratefully allowed back into his comfort zone. It's a show of both himself and his equipment working in perfect concert when he gives a demonstration of how he works in his natural habitat on the stealth course. Even his little speakers are designed to not let any sound out when they're properly tucked into his ears. Aside from the fact that they will need to get him a paler cloak to better blend in, his flex armor, gear, boots, and natural skill are all built to be as stealthy as possible while hunting. Someone who specializes entirely in stealth would beat him in this category, but he still excels more than someone of his size should be able to.

By the time he gets to the dodging and balance tests, he's starting to have fun. He does well, again showing that his height does not get in the way of moving fast and keeping his balance as much as it should. He even cheekily tries whipping one of the balls back at the cannon like he's trying to break it. He also seems to enjoy the firearm test. He's quite proficient with them, though he shows a clear preference for rifles and handguns over automatic or heavy-duty weaponry. He can at least handle himself with any firearm put into his hands, but he's a sharpshooter through and through.

Between it all, he occasionally returns to his glass of ice water, but he does so in the way of someone sipping on a drink over the course of an evening, chewing on ice whenever there is a minute between tests. And it's during these transitional times when it becomes alarmingly clear that he he doesn't seem to be tired. When he takes a moment to rest and eat ice, his respiration is elevated, but only to the point of catching up to a normal, human rate of breath. He hardly seems to sweat, even after the speed test.

It's only once they stop long enough to eat that he seems visibly tired at all. When he stops moving for the first time in hours and lets himself settle, there's finally a droop to his posture. He joins the other two in eagerly zoning out and mindlessly refueling. Blessedly, with no one drumming up any conversation, he's allowed to shut his brain off for a little while.

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