The Doghouse (nU sub-location)

The Doghouse

CVnU sub-location (restricted)

The Doghouse is the colloquial name for a secretive combat training complex located in the heart of Caracas, in mutant-controlled Venezuela. Its name is a nod to its director and primary trainer, the vicious mutant mercenary known as the Alpha Dog. Created as a nerve center for recruiting and training promising mutants into a cohesive fighting-force, it has become a point of pride for the mutant citizens, and many youngsters enjoy bragging to their peers of their intention to one day train here.

If the existence and location of the facility is common knowledge however, exactly what goes on behind the fences and walls is not known to the general public, aside from the usual products of the local rumor mill. Access is tightly restricted, with motion sensors, CCTV cameras, razor wire, and armed guards ensuring that training is not interrupted by outsiders, or observed by undesirable eyes. Recruits and applicants are subjected to an intense screening process before they are ever permitted to set foot on the grounds, a process that includes brutal tests for aptitude and ability, background checks, genetic screening, and even psychic scanning; Dog has a zero-tolerance policy for spies and saboteurs, and applicants that arouse suspicion during the screening process have been known to mysteriously vanish.

Once inside, a short trip across immaculately kept grounds and through the doors of the Spanish colonial main building demonstrates how deceptive outer appearances can be, as the interiors of all buildings are ultramodern in design, and Spartan in their furnishings. Student quarters are particularly bare and drab; although individuals are welcome to give their personal quarters a homey touch, the facility itself provides nothing that is not directly related to training or basic needs. Every building requires entrants to identify themselves by fingerprint analysis, optical scan, or voice recognition, with some of the more restricted areas requiring all three. Anyone failing to pass one of these checkpoints can expect a quick visit from a security officer.

Aside from the dormitories, another building houses the staff offices and administrative center (including the office of the security forces), and another serves as the dining hall, which serves a variety of basic but highly nourishing meals. There is also a small meditation garden that some students seek out for contemplation during the rare periods of unrestricted downtime.

The actual training facilities are located below-ground, in a series of sub-levels dug out and designed for that very purpose. Here, the students of the Doghouse pursue their brutal regimen in a tightly-controlled environment, completely isolated from the outside world. The rooms vary from those used for conventional physical training (although enhanced physical abilities have been taken into account, with some of the weight-training machines have settings as high as fifty tons of resistance), to dojo-like rooms for hand-to-hand training and sparring, ranges for mastering a staggering array or firearms and thrown projectiles (or natural ranged abilities), and a swimming pool that can transform into an underwater “maze” for a variety of aquatic training simulations. There is also a medical facility for the inevitable accidents, although most students only report here in cases of dire physical distress, as the staff was selected more for their ability to get trainees back on their feet efficiently than for bedside manner.

The crown jewel of the facility, however, is the area affectionately referred to as “the Arena.” A state-of-the-art holographic obstacle course, it is reserved only for advanced trainees; those who have already proven themselves in a brutally sadistic gauntlet of intense physical conditioning, weapons training, and hand-to-hand instruction combined with sleep deprivation and minimal sustenance. Capable of simulating a staggering array of scenarios, from natural environments to urban settings complete with holographic civilian bystanders, groups of students face off with one another or with artificial opponents. The final exam for any trainee is a series of borderline-insane solo missions, ranging from obstacle courses to swarms of enemies to situations designed to challenge their psychological makeup.

The attrition rate of such a facility is telling: many applicants never make it past the screening process, and anywhere from eighty to ninety percent of any given cohort will likely “wash out” before completion, but the results speak for themselves: graduates of the Doghouse are top-tier fighting machines, capable of executing missions of practically any nature, in any environment. It also tends to create an unbreakable bond of loyalty among cohorts, and an almost preternatural ability to function as a team.

Staff:

The training staff of the Doghouse have all been hand-selected by Alpha Dog, which usually means that they’ve proven themselves on past missions of which he had been a part, or they demonstrated sufficient expertise of their specialization in an “interview” that would probably kill most trainees, often involving a one-on-one session with Dog himself. As a group, their only goal is to turn every student that sets foot on the grounds into a perfect fighting machine. They do not tolerate insubordination, tardiness, or lackluster performance; students do what they say, when they say it, to their satisfaction, or suffer the consequences.

Security:

The security officers of the Doghouse are not your typical “campus cops;” they have been drawn from the security forces of the Venezuelan military, and gone through a training regimen, designed by Dog, that is very nearly as brutal that the students go through. Each officer is provided with a full dossier on every student, staff member, or other authorized person on the complex, including a full description of powers, level of training, and appearance. Any unauthorized party caught on the grounds is treated as hostile, and even students caught somewhere they should not be or doing something they shouldn’t be doing can expect some harsh questioning and sanctions, including being confined to personal quarters when not in training.

All security officers carry fully-automatic rifles and sidearms, often with armor-piercing rounds. Each has achieved the highest mastery of at least one hand-to-hand combat style, in addition to whatever their individual mutant abilities grant them. They wear light graphene body armor, and their helmets contain two-way communicators, night-vision goggles, and air filtration units.

Rules:

This is a highly-restricted location, in a restricted country. While it’s not completely impossible to infiltrate, anyone wishing to do so would be expected to sell the screening process and the security to the nth degree.

Anyone wishing to train here must be approved by either Alpha Dog or the Shogun.

Anyone who wishes to indulge their inner sadist and sign up as a trainer is also subject to Alpha Dog/Shogun approval.

Any attacks or massive destruction need to be pre-approved.

All other RPG and CVnU rules apply.

Beast. Mode.

Activated,

Nicely done!

Of course, a nicely created location must also be nicely destroyed.

This is pretty cool. Well done, mano.

@satar: @dreadpool10: @the_shogun: Thank you, thank you!

@arquitenens: Thank you, and raugh! Aurgh!

A+ sound effects.

@joey_destroyer_of_worlds: There wasn't much left in the budget; turns out underground holographic facilities are expensive.

I have an alt in mind who will train here (if I ever get around to creating said alt, of course lol)

@the_shogun:

Huh. One or two o' these might actually last a couple seconds, in a real fight.

Dog strolled casually through one of the physical conditioning centers of the Doghouse, watching his hand-picked trainers attempt to instill a little discipline in the motley collection of assorted mutants that comprised the first official "class" of the facility. He was dressed casually, in camo fatigue pants and a black tank-top, with jungle-style combat boots that looked like they'd seen their fair share of the jungle. He didn't bother to conceal a sadistic grin as his taskmasters put the trainees through their paces; it was becoming obvious that even the ones who came to the center with a military background weren't fully prepared for what they were now facing. After all, how many conventional armies took mutant abilities into account, in their training?

On his left, a line of titanium ladders, each securely bolted to a reinforced concrete wall, stood in a line. Trainees struggled up each one, using only their arms, with a fellow trainee hanging off of their backs. One candidate, whose armor-like skin and grotesquely muscled physique spoke to his mutant strength and durability, was performing the exercise with a shipping container secured to his back with industrial cable standing in for a fellow trainee.

On his right, a twisted sort of relay race was taking place, with teams competing to see who could flip an industrial tractor tire end-over-end the fastest. It was a common enough training technique, although it was far less common for the tires to be filled unevenly with bags of lead buckshot, making them considerably heavier and harder to balance and control. A trainer stood off to one side, shouting encouragement at his charges, in the form of insults, threats, and questions concerning lineage.

Dog paused for a moment, as one of the trainees attempting to clamber up the ladders missed a wild and exhausted grab for a rung, sending himself and his partner plummeting towards the floor. His partner was able to tuck and roll as the hit the ground, but the exhausted climber landed flat on his back, the wind being knocked from his lungs with a painful grunt. A trainer stepped forward to intervene, but Dog waved him off with an almost casual gesture of one clawed hand. The feral mutant stepped over the wheezing trainee, and after several seconds of watching him fight to regain his breath, he almost gently pressed the heel of his boot against the prone trainee's throat, cutting off his air supply completely.

"Scary, ain't it?" Dog remarked, in the tone of voice that one would usually reserve for discussing the weather. The trainee's eyes bulged, as he ineffectually clawed at Dog's booted foot in a futile attempt to free himself. "Yer vision's startin' to fade, and yer havin' trouble controllin' yer limbs. In a couple o' seconds, yer gonna pass out completely, and then I'll take my foot off ya. Yer gonna wake up in a bit in the infirmary, with the worst headache ya ever had in yer life." He leaned forward a bit, making sure the fading mutant could still see his face and hear his words, which now took on a very sinister edge. "But ya know what? LeBeau wouldn't take his foot off ya, even when ya passed out. Neither would one o' Maverick's guys, or one o' the MRF flunkies. Out in the real world, ya'd be a dead man, right now."

True to his word, Dog removed his foot from the trainee's windpipe as the struggling mutant lapsed into unconsciousness, his arms falling limply to his sides. He turned back to the waiting trainer and nodded, and the trainer stepped in, throwing the unconscious student unceremoniously over his shoulder and carrying him towards the door. "Ya tell the medics that they're to get his sorry butt back in the gym the moment his eyes open!" he called after them, before turning and fixing the rest of the students, who had paused to watch the display, with a savage glare. "Who told ya runts it was break time?! Get back to it, or yer all gettin' the same!" As the trainees scrambled back to their tasks, Dog allowed himself a satisfied grin as he resumed his inspection.

@alpha_dog: Nice! I'll start working on a response soon.

@alpha_dog:

Adorned in the vibranium panoply of war Ivana entered the training facility. She hooked her thumbs behind her golden utility belt, resting her armored gauntlets as she watched Dog enforce his ruthless brand of training.

And she was pleased. What training could possibly prepare the Shogunate's best and brightest for the remorseless reality of war? What could prepare a youth, barely out of high school to stare into the eyes of a LeBeau? What could prepare a pimple faced kid to face overwhelming odds and near certain death in the battle for mutant survival?

Only Dog's innate savagery could impress upon the recruits the seriousness of the struggle ahead. Only his brutal training methods could prepare them to fight every battle as if it were their last.

Only the Doghouse could forge young mutants into weapons of war that Ivana could go into battle beside with the confidence they would not let her, or their fellow mutants down. That is what it came down to in the end. The survival of thousands, if not millions of mutants depended upon the lessons they learned in the Doghouse.

And as she watched the medics wheel away the unconscious mutant she knew he had learned a lesson he would never forget.

Ivana caught Dog's eye and nodded to him, a short acknowledgement of her approval.

@the_shogun:

He caught Ivana's scent the moment she entered the room. There was never any mistaking it. Those without enhanced sense often failed to realize that a scent revealed much more than simple location and identity; a trained nose could discern age, overall health, and mood, among other things. Training and discipline could disguise a lot of these attributes and factors, but it was all but impossible to affect what your scent revealed, aside from masking it entirely. It wasn't like mind-reading; you couldn't figure out exactly what someone was thinking about or what they planned to do, but knowing someone's overall mood and mentality at a sniff could mean the difference between recognizing an ally or an enemy, on the battlefield. Ivan's scent hinted that the Shogun was in a decent mood, which was probably a lucky break for the trainees. He'd seen the samurai in battle, and you just didn't get to be that good without going through hell to get there. And those who have been through hell usually pick up a few techniques for dragging others through it.

"Mornin', boss," Dog greeted, as he sauntered over to where Ivana stood, his casual, almost careless attitude once again disguising the perpetually alert and poised-to-spring being that he truly was. "To what do we owe the honor? Just reviewin' the troops, or ya lookin' for a sparrin' partner?" He glanced over his shoulder, at the unconscious trainee being carried out. "If it's the latter, ya might wanna come back in a few weeks. By then, the ones that're left just might make ya break a sweat, if they ganged up on ya."

@alpha_dog:

"Morning." Ivana returned the greeting. Though her senses were also enhanced they were likely not as keen as Dog's, nor did she have his lifetime of experience with enhanced senses, an invaluable resource that made him the Shogunate's finest tracker. He had even proven capable of tracking the mysterious 'Renegade' during the cyber attack on the nation.

To Ivana many of the scents and sounds that she could now experience after her dip into the Resurrection Pool blended together in a confusing wall of undifferentiated sensation. It was no longer as overwhelming but true mastery was far into the future.

"Reviewing the troops." Her sapphire gaze swept over the collection of recruits once more. "I will accept that offer when they graduate. I should know their strengths and weaknesses before I lead them in battle. What better way than to spar them?"

@the_shogun:

Dog nodded. "Well, that bein' the case, let's not waste yer time with this rookie crap." He led the way into another room, one set up to more or less resemble a traditional dojo, with wide expanses of floor space set up for sparring. Here, a number of instructors were each paired off with a student, while the remaining students stood off to the side and observed. Unlike a usual sparring match, however, each squared-off pair was being closely observed by a second trainer, this one holding a rifle that was kept trained on the ongoing match.

"Nonlethal rounds," Dog explained, indicating the armed instructors. "We save the real ordnance fer the final exam." Even as he made this statement, one of the gunmen raised his weapon and placed an expert shot into the exposed leg of one of the trainees. The target gasped in shock and pain, and suddenly found himself attempting to fight with one leg entirely numbed. Taking advantage of this distraction, the instructor struck like a waiting cobra, throwing the student to the floor with a vicious over-the-hip throw.

Any punk worth stepping through the front door of the Doghouse was expected to be able to go toe-to-toe with an experienced opponent in a hand-to-hand battle, and Dog really didn't care about how fancy they could get in a one-on-one matchup; battlefields were chaotic places where one couldn't afford to focus full attention on a single target, at least not for very long. The purpose of this training exercise was being able to handle one foe in melee, while simultaneously using that foe as a shield to prevent an enemy sniper from getting a clear shot.

@alpha_dog: This place is very interesting, even more with you two breathing life into it; but what really makes it pop, I think, is the life and personality you infuse into the concept itself. The way everyone treats each other, all that.

@arquitenens: Well thank you! ^_^

@alpha_dog:

The Shogun strolled after Dog. Her red cape flowed around her ankles as she walked and her jet black ponytail hung across the tips of the arrows that protruded from the quiver worn under the cape.

"Heh." Blue eyes twinkled as the gunshot struck the trainee. Inwardly she suppressed a wince at the deafening bark of the indoor gunshot. She had been slowly loosing her hearing after a lifetime of explosions, sonic grenades and close quarters gunfire and had forgotten how loud indoor gunfire was. Newly enhanced senses did not improve matters on that front.

"Good idea." She said in her light Russian accent. "In most of my battles as Shogun I have been ambushed at some point and fought multiple foes." Honorable combat was a dangerous concept, one that Ivana herself had sucumed to. In her most recent assault on Gothic Cities underworld the vigilatine DragonFang had challenged her to one on one combat without her armor and used her toxic secretions to defeat Ivana and drive her from the field.

@the_shogun:

"Ya hear that, punks?" Dog barked at the trainees, who had all paused to listen to the Shogun's, their Shogun's words. "Course ya did, ya all got ears. Ol' Dog isn't puttin' ya through hell just fer kicks; that's just a perk o' mine. It might actually keep one or two of ya alive. Now hop to it and show ya did more 'n just hear it! Impress yer trainers enough and maybe I'll let ya sleep in an extra thirty seconds, tomorrow!"

"They're a ragged bunch," Dog said, as they moved on, passing what was a fairly standard shooting range, with the only notable difference being that here, the targets returned fire until they were destroyed. "A couple of 'em got some promise, though. Just gonna take some time to hammer it out of 'em." He paused, letting his critical gaze rest on one trainee, who was enjoying success with his unique mutation, which seemed to involve him hurling bits of his own flesh at targets, whereupon the flesh appeared to latch onto and consume the target in question. "So who's next on the choppin' block? If I know anything about ya, it's that ya don't sit still fer too long."

@alpha_dog: I'm out of creative juice tonight but I'll respond tomorrow :-)

@the_shogun: No worries; I have a long day tomorrow and should probably turn in soon, anyways!

When I finish this character, I'm coming here...

Coming here to whup ass.

@petiri_mapoza: Better watch out. He might let the dogs out ~__^

Sabretooth vs Black Panther. LIEBE ES

@petiri_mapoza:

Oh that sounds fun :D

I haven't broken one of your characters apart yet >:)

@thisisgonnahurt: Meh! I already have plans with you with Joey!

@petiri_mapoza: Pal, the dogs have been keepin' the jungle in its place out fer years. ;)

Ooh, this post got me all excited.

@alpha_dog:

@petiri_mapoza:

Bring it on then! I can take on three fights at a time :P

@petiri_mapoza: It's been tried, kitty-cat. Puttin' me down and keepin' me down are two very different things. ;)

@alpha_dog: Then I'll try harder.

@petiri_mapoza: Ya just summed up what it takes ta succeed, in this place. ;)

"State secrets." She grinned. There were always new targets. However Ivana had found the best way to keep a secret was simply to tell absolutely no one until the moment of action. Information no one knew couldn't be leaked. A spy could not discover secrets known only to her.

Blue eyes followed the mutant's matter consuming flesh. "The humans cannot prepare for this." Mutation was unpredictable. Matter dissolving flesh. Phasing. Telepathy. Even just superstrength.

"They could prepare for one powerful threat. Even two, or three. But this? Mutant kind is a thousand different threats, all at once. No one can prepare for all of it. A well trained mutant is a weapon greater than even vibranium."

@the_shogun:

"Heh." Dog had only half-expected to get any information from his inquiry. In fact, half might have been overly optimistic; Ivana had been in the game too long to just drop that kind of information in a casual conversation, regardless of the circumstances. Security was having people you could trust; better security was having people you didn't need to trust.

"Ain't that the truth, though." Dog assessed the promising mutant's technique as he responded to Ivana's second statement. "Anything they got, we can get: training, gear, you name it. They can't get what we have, though. Take an average mutant and an average human, and my money's on the mutant, every time."

But they ain't got a power ring! Hahaha!

Oh wait neither do I ;-;

@_avatar_: Hah!

I just realized I don't even have a reason to be here, even after all that smack-talking with Alpha Dog, lol.

@alpha_dog:

Ivana nodded her agreement. Mutants had the advantage of inborn powers. Powers they could often wield as intuitively as an arm or leg. Power was apart of the mutant. The metahuman, the tech hero, the result of radiation gone mad, none could claim the same natural connection to their powers, in the Shogun's opinion.

"And the humans are too divided. Some fight for country, some for honor, some for heroism and some for profit. But they have many countries. Many types of honor and many visions of heroism. But the mutant nation stands united."

@the_shogun:

"And some fight 'cause that's all there is fer 'em." Dog stretched, cracking his thick neck. "Well, this bunch'll stand united, once I'm done with 'em, or they won't be standin' at all."

@alpha_dog:

A little grin touched the corners of her lips. "I count on it." <As does the rest of mutant kind.>

Then she nodded to the massive mutant as she turned to depart. "Until next time, Dog."

This is giving me too many ideas

@mercy_: It's all pain, all the time, in here. ;)

This is pretty cool. Might make a Wolverine archetype just for Alpha Dog to fight, LOL.

@satar:

@_envy_: Well? Ya just gonna sit there, junior?

@alpha_dog:

There was an idea of an honest hardworking man. He wakes up every day, eats breakfast, and goes to work. One day, he was drafted to fight, but he focused on surviving. When you fight, it's the one who fears death the least that wins. The man didn't want to die. And so he didn't. Instead, he received a grievous cranial wound in an ambush, but he did not fade away nameless in the histories. He would remain nameless as the planes soared overhead, dropping experimental combat hormones into the fray. The battlefield turned into a butcher's shop. Men tore out their own throats, others ate parts of themselves.

Only one survived. The chemicals soaked into his brain, sealing the wound they seeped in through. He lived, but an unspeakable bloodlust awoke in him that day. He couldn't stop his comrades from killing each other, but he could put them out of their misery. It was the first time he bared his claws. When it all was over, he wished that it was the last, but he couldn't die.

After all, he was only alive on the battlefield, a living weapon. Exactly what his country wanted.

@thisisgonnahurt: [Nice. I will respond tomorrow; I think the tank's running on fumes, right now.]

@alpha_dog:

(Good. Gives me time to get used to this character's mentality :P)