In the first few days of their confinement, Shepard's face is a hard, unsmiling line. It might have something to do with the fact that when he'd first arrived, he'd tried to put a fist into the face of the nearest Russian soldier, only to collapse in a twitching heap on the floor when the electric shock flooded through him.
So, he's going to have to be smarter than this.
Over the first few days of the seminar, he endures the videos with a grim determination and shovels the food they're provided down his throat with mechanical efficiency. On the field, he noticeably isn't pushing himself to overexert himself, jogging with almost exaggerated slowness. When that grows tiring, he finds himself inevitably drawn to the weights area, giving a cursory glance at the setup before finally zeroing in on another imPort.
"Need a spotter?"
In hour six, when they're finally given free time, Shepard doesn't waste it by indulging in the hotel's amenities -- instead, he prowls through the corridors, noting the security camera's locations. It's tempting to make a face at them, but he doesn't, and his wanderings seem increasingly aimless, though it sharpens back into purpose quickly enough.
[ day 2-4, post-hour 10 ]
It's been harder than he'd like to admit, to resist the brainwashing. Not because he doesn't have experience in it -- if the Reapers didn't succeed, he damn well hopes the Soviets shouldn't -- but because it feels familiar, too much like an experience in a hallucination that seems forever ago now. Looks like the USSR doesn't hate the US so much that they wouldn't take advantage of some of their methods.
During the lessons, he spends more time watching other imPorts than the lecturers. When they're broken up into groups, he takes a chair and heads to a corner, sitting at a table and pulling up a piece of paper where he proceeds, to all appearances, to make a serious effort at categorizing the information they've been given.
If someone were to look over his shoulder, however, they'd find him diligently working on a flowchart consisting of crudely drawn penises.
[ day 5 ]
Something's different about Shepard, but it's hard to place at first. The grimness in his expression remains, and he eats as briskly as ever, but this time when they're told to exercise, Shepard makes a serious go of it. He doesn't have enough of his biotics to bother wasting time with demonstrations, but he pushes himself on the exercise machines until his muscles ache with fatigue.
Not that he needs any help with that, because he already looks exhausted. Being forced to stay overnight watching brainwashing videos will do that to you.
In the hour they're supposed to be using as personal time, he finds a seat that's out of the way and sits, the model picture of quiet attentiveness, though his gaze is distant. The only sign of discontent is in his fingers, drumming fitfully on the chair's arm, lending to the sense of tightly leashed energy.
ota;
In the first few days of their confinement, Shepard's face is a hard, unsmiling line. It might have something to do with the fact that when he'd first arrived, he'd tried to put a fist into the face of the nearest Russian soldier, only to collapse in a twitching heap on the floor when the electric shock flooded through him.
So, he's going to have to be smarter than this.
Over the first few days of the seminar, he endures the videos with a grim determination and shovels the food they're provided down his throat with mechanical efficiency. On the field, he noticeably isn't pushing himself to overexert himself, jogging with almost exaggerated slowness. When that grows tiring, he finds himself inevitably drawn to the weights area, giving a cursory glance at the setup before finally zeroing in on another imPort.
"Need a spotter?"
In hour six, when they're finally given free time, Shepard doesn't waste it by indulging in the hotel's amenities -- instead, he prowls through the corridors, noting the security camera's locations. It's tempting to make a face at them, but he doesn't, and his wanderings seem increasingly aimless, though it sharpens back into purpose quickly enough.
[ day 2-4, post-hour 10 ]
It's been harder than he'd like to admit, to resist the brainwashing. Not because he doesn't have experience in it -- if the Reapers didn't succeed, he damn well hopes the Soviets shouldn't -- but because it feels familiar, too much like an experience in a hallucination that seems forever ago now. Looks like the USSR doesn't hate the US so much that they wouldn't take advantage of some of their methods.
During the lessons, he spends more time watching other imPorts than the lecturers. When they're broken up into groups, he takes a chair and heads to a corner, sitting at a table and pulling up a piece of paper where he proceeds, to all appearances, to make a serious effort at categorizing the information they've been given.
If someone were to look over his shoulder, however, they'd find him diligently working on a flowchart consisting of crudely drawn penises.
[ day 5 ]
Something's different about Shepard, but it's hard to place at first. The grimness in his expression remains, and he eats as briskly as ever, but this time when they're told to exercise, Shepard makes a serious go of it. He doesn't have enough of his biotics to bother wasting time with demonstrations, but he pushes himself on the exercise machines until his muscles ache with fatigue.
Not that he needs any help with that, because he already looks exhausted. Being forced to stay overnight watching brainwashing videos will do that to you.
In the hour they're supposed to be using as personal time, he finds a seat that's out of the way and sits, the model picture of quiet attentiveness, though his gaze is distant. The only sign of discontent is in his fingers, drumming fitfully on the chair's arm, lending to the sense of tightly leashed energy.
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