[h1][center][color=lightgreen]Training Day Zero[/color][/center][/h1]

[center][color=ed1c24]BRRRzzzzzTTT[/color] [color=6ecff6]"Good morning Spartan, Are you ready for your big day? Your assignment this morning is to do your daily exercises and report to the mess hall no later than 8 hundred hours. Good luck today."[/color][/center]
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Solton uncurled from a set of hanging sit-ups. [color=lightgreen] "Ava don't patronize me, I am not a child in need of a wake up call"[/color] he said with a low developing voice. 

Scythe Solton was 6'5" 189.5 pounds of pure muscle, hanging from the coolant pipe above his bed in nothing but compression shorts. He quickly flipped down landing softly,almost cat like, on the ground next to his bed. [color=lightgreen]"Besides, what makes today any different from any other day,"[/color] He said stretching and revealing every line of muscle with precision.[color=lightgreen] "I'll just be surrounded by those who rank beneath me. Useless and unneeded garbage"[/color] He said finishing his stretch with a deep exhale.

He looked over the usual training schedule as he threw on his PT shirt and Shorts. He headed out and commenced with Hand to Hand and Lockdown paint. He finished Hand to Hand with 230 hits delivered - 0 taken. He only hit kill zone points as a personal goal. 

Lockdown Paint was a bit different although he is a stalker. 30 enemies eliminated with stealth - 1 Spartan eliminated read across the leaderboard. Solton hated working in teams because some idiot always screwed up. [color=lightgreen]'They are not my responsibility'[/color] he would think to himself. Although, the frustration would always read across his face when he saw the individual. Rank #15 is where he landed because of this slip up. Lifting and Running were to easy to pay attention to so he left the leaderboard and entered the mess hall at 0759hrs.

Solton moved invisibly to his seat number 333. Along the way collecting intel on the assembly's purpose. He sat and surprised most who sat next to him. They didn't even notice his approach. This always made him feel a little better after a fail. Now he waited for the loud speakers to belt his serial number.[color=lightgreen]'A squad, can I do this?'[/color] he thought as his mind wandered back to "1 Spartan eliminated." 

The announcer called out "Serial Number 333!" Solton stood and approached the stage.  He was directed to exactly the place he expected, Stalker. He looked over to examine the captain's position. It was Atticus Szabo Rank #14. Rage ached at the back of his head.[color=lightgreen] '1 Spartan Eliminated'[/color] The words almost seemed tangible enough to rip from his own skull. [color=lightgreen] "I will not be bested.."[/color] he mumbled lightly.