Lt. JG Natasha Cole - Where Pride Gets Tested

[Natasha Schell]

((Security Training Facilities - Combat Mat Room - USS Artemis-A))

The combat room smelled faintly of sterilized padding, recycled air, and the kind of effort that usually ended with bruises in memorable places.

Natasha stepped through the doors in her duty uniform, hair pulled back, expression composed, and already regretting just a little of every life choice that had led her back onto a training mat under formal evaluation.

Not because she disliked hand-to-hand. Quite the opposite.

But recertification had a way of making even familiar things feel uncomfortably official. It was one thing to know how to fight. It was another to stand under someone else’s eye and let them decide whether what you knew still met the standard.

That part always itched at her pride. Still, pride was usually where bad habits liked to hide.

She crossed to the edge of the mat, taking in the room with a quick sweep of practiced eyes. Padded deck. Wall racks of training gear. Diagnostic panel. Water station. Medical kit near the door. Clean, orderly, and just clinical enough to remind her that Starfleet preferred its violence documented.

oO Wonderful. Structured suffering. My favorite. Oo

She rolled one shoulder once, then the other, feeling the last of the ship-day tension ease out through motion. She was steadier now than she had been a few weeks ago, though not so arrogant as to confuse steadiness with invulnerability. That, too, was part of why recertification existed.

The doors opened behind her.

Silveira: Response

Natasha turned and straightened, not to parade-rest stiffness, but enough to acknowledge both his rank and the fact that in this room, for the next hour or so, he was very much in charge.

Cole: Lieutenant Commander.

Her eyes flicked once toward the mat, then back to him.

Cole: Reporting for hand-to-hand recertification. I trust this remains a certification and not an excuse for Tactical to humble Security in a controlled environment.

Silveira: Response

The corner of her mouth twitched faintly.

Cole: I’m assuming you want this treated like a proper evaluation, not just a friendly reminder that the deck can, in fact, hit back.

She stepped closer to the edge of the mat and began rolling her sleeves with neat, methodical precision.

Cole: How would you like to begin, sir? 

Natasha finished with her sleeves and clasped her hands briefly behind her back. Not defensive. Just containing some of the excess energy that always came with being assessed.

Silveira: Response

Tags/TBC

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Lt. JG Natasha Cole
Security Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205NC4