Character Sheet (Move your mouse to reveal the content) Character Sheet (open) Character Sheet (close) Name: Kieran Rhodes Age: 26 Face Claim: Jack Falahee As much as Kieran Rhodes enjoyed a good day of training in the Kwoom room, this was going a bit overboard. Everybody against everyone, duo after duo dueling on the springy floor, and he had gone far too many times for it to be good for his body. He'd actually lost count. Clearly, the Marshall wanted results, and soon. Why else would he hold a drift compatibility test as large scale as this one? Did he want to find new pilots? Was he planning to cut the less talented recruits? His method of keeping everyone out of the loop had the effect of stirring people up and motivating them, while simultaneously pissing off or terrifying anyone who liked to be in the know. It wasn't just the few who had better scores (which he totally did, but he wasn't one to brag… much), it was everyone, the sound of wooden sticks clacking against one another or against skin permeating the room from dawn until dusk, along with the grunts of exhausted men and women. Sweat dripped, salty and clear, from Kieran's face and arms, while his shirt clung to his body from the moisture (both in the air and on his body). His mind felt numb from dialogue after dialogue with his fellow ranger trainees, which wasn't altogether an unpleasant sensation, but he couldn't think in the midst of such a fuzzy veil of exhaustion. "Alright, that's it!" came the shout from the Marshall, who stood at the head of the room, a stern look in his surveying eyes. "We've seen what we need to see. Start clearing out. Anderson, Harkness, you two are mopping the floors today. Punishment for your abysmal efforts in the tests." The two young trainees in question groaned, their limbs already trembling from exertion; but if the Marshall gave an order, you followed it, no complaints. Kieran, for one, was more than relieved that he hadn't been chosen. Mopping up the literal puddles of sweat from the mat was a job nobody enjoyed, especially not after a long day of testing. With an audible sigh of relief, echoed by his luckier peers, Kieran was snatching a towel from the sidelines and mopping at his face. Man, his body was going to hurt like Hell the next day. He was sure of it. As he wiped off the sweat, he glanced over at the Marshall, who appeared to be deep in conversation with the Fightmaster, gesturing at the tablet in his hands and occasionally glancing around the room. It looked like there would be a new pilot duo chosen today. There had to be, given the amount of concentration on the Fightmaster's weathered face. Kieran stared, thinking back to every dialogue he'd had that day. Some had been more memorable than others, and at one point he clearly remembered feeling his best in months. After so many tests, he couldn't remember the name of the man, but he had felt that connection - a strong drift compatibility - with one person out of everyone the entire day. Maybe it was his time to shine... He was so lost in thought that when the Marshall looked up and looked him dead in the eyes, he didn't even notice; until, that is, he heard the bark of "Do you need something, rookie?" There was suppressed laughter from the remaining recruits, and Kieran flushed, replying with a quick "Sorry sir, no sir." His face was burning, and he took the moment to cover it with the towel again, scrubbing so people wouldn't notice the flush of embarrassment across his cheeks. With his luck, he'd just proven his idiocy to the one man who held his future in his hands. Fantastic. Absolutely faaaantastic.