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[Round 6] Ens Roland Weston - Run


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::Sweat rolled down the valley between Roland's shoulder blades as he ran through the urban landscape. Buildings whipped past, timeless testaments to architectural fashion, and the breeze on his face was lightly scented with salt from the nearby ocean.

::He took a left turn, not sure where he was going, and found himself in a small alley with a six-foot wall. He didn't slow; jumping towards the corner formed by the wall of the building to his right, he kicked off with his right leg from the brick and used the friction to spring up. His hands caught the wall's top at waist height just as his legs were tucking under his body, and he used his momentum to carry him right over the wall.

::Roland fell expertly, using a shoulder roll to bring him back to his feet without breaking stride. He kept running, vaulting over a few smaller fences and even garbage bins that lay in his way. At one point he decided to test the creater of the holosuite and took a sudden left into an abandoned-looking building, vaulting up the stairs like a hungry monkey after the last banana in the world. The thought made him grin as he barreled through a door at the top of the fourth story, coming out on the gravelly roof and back into the sunlight that had been scarce at street level.

::Roofs were just a fun new obstacle for parkour enthusiasts, something that Roland considered himself but didn't advertise. Parkour had been used for a lot of crime in the mid-21st century, and had a tarnished reputation because of it. Not that Roland hadn't done crime of his own - he couldn't say that with a straight face, really - but his reputation meant everything as a diplomat. Couldn't have that be anything but spotless.

::Roland barely looked twice before leaping off the roof, arms spread like a diver over a perfectly safe pool rather than the sea of concrete beneath. He tucked his head and rolled towards his right shoulder as he approached the third-story roof across the small alley, rolling perfectly and letting momentum bring him back to his feet. He kept running, scaling an eavestrough to bring him to the fifth story of the building and finally coming up short at the edge of that roof. He looked out at the San Francisco skyline and [...]ed a smile.

::No boats in the harbour. No shuttlecraft zipping to and from the Academy. The holosuite was designed to be abandoned, at Roland's request. He dealt with enough people in his real life; sometimes he wanted the solitude of one of the busiest cities on Earth.

::Deep breaths filled his lungs for a few minutes as he just sat back on his heels and enjoyed the magnificent view of a late-spring day. Roland hadn't been planet-side in a while, and he missed the feeling of real gravity. Starfleet's gravity was better than the Cartier had managed, but there was something intrinsic about a real gravity that technology simply couldn't replicate. Maybe it was a mind-over-matter thing. Roland couldn't guess.::

R WESTON: Computer. ::He paused, looking around one last time.:: How much time do I have remaining on my account?

COMPUTER: Three hours, fifteen minutes, twenty-seven seconds.

R WESTON: Stop program.

::The computer immediately obliged, and the familiar grid reappeared. Roland rolled his neck, trying to stretch some of the inevitable tenseness of a long session from his hard-worked muscles, and stepped out of the holosuite into Geri's Suites. Geri herself was already approaching, in tight calf-length pants and a shirt that left little to the imagination. If Roland knew less about her than he did, he might have even been interested in the way she swayed her hips.::

GERI: Have a good run, hon?

R WESTON: Always do, Geri. Got an aqua available?

GERI: For you? ::She shot him a look that said a lot more than her words did.:: Always.

::Roland traded some fresh repartee with her while he undressed behind a screen, and she finally excused herself just before he stepped into the shower. One of his favourite luxuries, the diplomat was dreadfully afraid that he wouldn't be able to have one installed in his quarters on the Drake.

::Twenty minutes of hot water and steam later, and Roland stepped out feeling pleasantly tired. He was alert, all of the endorphins from his exercise still coursing through his system, as he walked onto the promenade and started making his way towards the Drake's dock. He had decided to make a run on the boxing league that Oliver was setting up despite his dislike of the violent sport, knowing just how valuable such a thing could be to his rapport with the very people who could get him information. He would have to brush up before the Drake left using those last three hours of time in Geri's suites.::

((OOC: Okay, finally posting. Sorry that it has nothing to do with... anything! Hopefully this will kick-start my creative juices again.))


Dan Clarke


Ensign Roland Weston

Diplomatic Liaison

USS Drake


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