Alex settled down on the bench so that she was facing Mike, one leg tucked underneath herself. Her jacket remained tightly around her and she shifted a little to zip it up before returning her attention fully to her handler. He was enthusiastic, especially about the hologym, and it was contagious but Alex was closer to a Luddite than she was a tech whiz. She wondered how old he was, what his background was before he’d come to work here. She’d never had any interest in anything to do with supers before. Her life had been a one-track goal: become a police officer, solve her parents’ murder. The rapid derailing of that, the sudden classification as ‘non-human’, her incarceration and subsequent loss of all freedoms and hope of her career had thrown her into somewhat of an existential crisis and she didn’t really know what to do with herself.
“I don’t need physical training,” she pointed out. “I was with the LAPD for five years. I’m pretty good at keeping my own levels of fitness up, and I’m a pretty good shot.” She had to be, and she had also always been an advocate of shooting as a last resort rather than a first. She’d only ever raised her weapon. Despite being an excellent shot, she’d never actually had to fire it at anyone.
She sighed. “My abilities aren’t exactly offensive.” Though she supposed under the right circumstances they could be. She had no desire to use them like that, though, or at all if she could get away with it.
Shifting again, she fixed Mike with a look. “Trained and ready for what, exactly? I was under the impression this was just some kind of camp or holding facility until the SEA lets us go.” Though she wasn’t sure if she would be allowed to leave: they’d tried to charge her with being a subversive super, purposefully flying under the radar and using her powers to manipulate those around her. “So what exactly do we need to be trained for?”