Breaking Point

[Krayzikk]

OOC: As voted upon, this post wraps up the initial invasion with a described series of events and a small timeskip.Some small liberties are taken with character actions, if someone objects, feel free to take them up with me and I’ll see about editing.

GM IC:
 

The Lockheed, as expected, maneuvered out of the path of the missiles with surprising ease before moving to return fire on the Prometheus. Its weapons were brought to bear, and her pilot was about to squeeze the trigger when the custom Warrior’s systems flickered and died, the controls locking down instantly. Something had taken it out of commission, and Harken on the ground felt his suit suddenly lock up. Within the Prometheus, Jackson allowed himself a faint smile. The EMP missiles had down their job. Which just left him to finish the job. His SAW pivoted again to finish off the helpless Walker…

Until a flash on the edge of his vision made him pivot and bring his shield to bear, catching a heat machete on its surface. Opposite him, the Wolf looked downright predatory. McKinley brought his assault rifle to bear, about to sink a few rounds into the Colonial Walker’s torso before it was swatted aside by its now-free hand. McKinley was thrown forward against his harness when the Prometheus slammed the bottom of its foot into his Warrior, throwing it back and to the ground. He didn’t miss a beat, though, and fired the Walker’s to make it roll out of the way of that same foot slamming down where his cockpit had been. Jackson’s SAW lay discarded, but his hand wasn’t free for long; he withdrew a handle connected to the tubing on its back, and a long red blade ignited from its emitter. The Wolf was already on its feet, but McKinley was warier.

The Cutie, meanwhile, was trying to keep its distance and pepper the Colonial with pistol fire. It couldn’t match the Prometheus in close quarters, or even midrange, and Gwen knew it. But try as she might, she couldn’t seem to do any more than dent it. The Colonial mech kept moving, barely paying her any mind. She did, however, get Jackson to pivot and put his shield between them. Enough of an opening for McKinley to lunge in, point of his machete bound for the Prometheus’ torso. The colonist evaded with a minimum of movement, countering with a slash from the unknown blade in hand. The Major interposed his shield expertly, rewarded only by the sight and sound of melting metal when it tore through the shield like paper. He retreated a few steps and pulled the arm back.

What was left of it, at least. The Wolf’s arm, from the forearm down, was lying on the ground with the assault rifle still in hand. Now it was Jackson’s turn not to miss a beat, thrusters sending it rocketing into the gap in McKinley’s guard, beam saber held high. The remainder of the Warrior’s left arm blocked forearm to forearm, keeping the saber from coming down, while the machete in its right hand rocketed towards the Prometheus’ torso. Jackson shifted left, just a little, and let the blade scrape its side while he brought up its left forearm. The storage pod popped open, unleashing a hail of heavy gatling fire into the section of the Wolf’s torso housing McKinley’s cockpit. Round after round pounded the metal, tearing away layer after layer of armor, before the Warrior’s knee slammed into the Prometheus, creating just enough space for for McKinley to stumble back.

Not that he was getting much of a respite. The beam saber lashed out again, and this time, the Major was too disoriented to stop it. It speared the Wolf’s right shoulder, while gatling fire lanced into its left knee. The Prometheus’ left hand wrapped tightly around the Warrior’s cranial unit, squeezing hard while the beam saber drew back…

“Not bad, kid.” McKinley laughed, or maybe it was coughed, into an open comm line for Jackson to hear. The saber paused, just a second. But it was all the Major needed because the two smoke grenades erupted from launchers on each of the Wolf’s shoulders, erupting in front of the Prometheus’ sensors. Jackson went to stab the Walker anyway, but a stab into his machine’s left wrist forced its hand off of the Warrior’s head. And then it was gone, vanished into the smokescreen the Federation ace had put up. “But not good enough.”

“The Federation’s Wolf, right?” Jackson said, almost conversationally, while he tried to track the Warrior. The smokescreen wouldn’t last long, but for now he couldn’t get a visual. Most of his sensors were confused, too. “Your snout’s gotten a little gray.”

“I’m only forty!” The Federation ace complained, moments before his machete bit into the Prometheus’ shoulder and withdrew, striking again from another direction before the gatling fire intercepted the Wolf. “And you should be a little more respectful. I wrote the book on the tactics you’re using.”

“I know. I read it.” The Wolf struck a third time, but this time, low-caliber auto-tracking vulcans strafed both left and right of the strike…. And on the left, they scored a hit. The Prometheus lashed out with its saber, and this time, was rewarded with the sight of molten metal. “The third rule of Walker combat. Against a technologically superior foe, outmaneuver, not overpower. Your colleagues revolutionized warfare.”

“But now, you’re behind the times.” The smoke had cleared and now Jackson could see where he’d hit. Straight through the Wolf’s abdomen, and now out through the side. The Prometheus slammed its fist into the Wolf’s cranium, sending it spinning on its damaged leg. He had it by the head again, now, taking a moment to relieve it of its machete… And its hand. He stabbed into its back, slightly off center, then threw it to the ground. “I respect your efforts, Major. I’d even like to let you go. But as you and I both know, you’re too important. You might rally them.”

A few quick swipes of its blade relieved the Wolf of unnecessary weights, like its head and its legs. Then the Prometheus’ foot slammed down on the lower torso, tip of its saber positioned over McKinley’s cockpit. “I have to make sure your men see it, too. Demoralization and all that. But I’ll make it quick. It really is a shame. You were only forty.”

“Heh. Clever.”

The colonist didn’t dignify McKinley’s last words with a reply, instead bracing the Prometheus’ other hand on the base of its saber and pushing it towards the Warrior’s cockpit. Until a volley of missiles slammed into its back, knocking it forward and the saber from its hand. He whirled as soon as he had his footing again, but it took only the briefest glance to see the game had changed.

A squadron of Federation machines was dropping to the ground, their deployment boosters breaking off to return to the warship that had launched them. He spied two Gunners and three Warriors, and in the sky, a squadron of Raptors was strafing the Liberator while the Federation ship fired to maim. Now Jackson had a choice. A protracted engagement had never been the plan; Horizon was supposed to have only a mid-sized standing Walker force, and no significant defenses from the Navy. A lightning strike, and the city would be theirs with minimal fighting. This new ship was beatable, but… The mass driver hadn’t fallen, and neither had the Federation base. And the disabled Federation units would be coming back online any second. This blitzkrieg was rapidly becoming a siege.

“All Union pilots, fall back to the extraction point. Liberator, withdraw from Horizon airspace and meet us for extraction” The Prometheus scooped up its SAW, firing a few shots at the encroaching Federation Walkers to keep some space between them, and withdrew rapidly from the field of battle. But not without a parting shot. He pivoted briefly to empty the clip into the Wolf, witnessing its sparking ruin for a moment, before continuing his retreat. He zig-zagged left and right, preventing any of the enemy fire from doing more than glancing off of him while they harassed his retreat. Better to have accomplished one goal then none at all.

”Sir, are we really to leave the Feddies alone?”

“No. Move as though withdrawing, pause at the edge of effective range.  All frontal weapons, spinal included, single discharge. As much damage as you can deal, and retreat from the field of battle.”

”Understood, sir.”

****

“Colonial forces retreating, Captain.”

“Good.” The Olympic’s captain said, letting a small breath of relief escape his lips while he relaxed his grip on his chair. “Keep an eye, make sure they don’t pull any tricks.”

“Aye, sir.” One of his bridge officers replied, while the Olympic edged further into Horizon airspace, occupying the space their Colonial opposite had vacated. The entire crew watched tensely while the ship edged closer and closer towards the edge of effective range. “Nearly outside of effective range, sir. Think-”

****

“-they’re safe. Fire now. Jackson’s orders.”

The Weapons Officer nodded, starting, with a few keystrokes, the firing solution he’d programmed in when they started retreating. Dozens of railgun slugs, a hail of missiles, and a single discharge from their spinal beam cannon. Not what one usually used to end a fight; the firing of their spinal weapon was slow, and limited. But since the Olympic didn’t see it coming...  On the ground, Jackson watched with satisfaction as the Olympic tried to evade or shoot them down, but they’d been caught off guard by the sudden severity of the assault. The cannon’s more exotic munitions, in particular, were devastating in turning the engines on the Olympic’s starboard side into molten metal.

And as the Liberator pulled out of Horizon airspace, pausing a few miles away to collect their men, the Federation’s newest ship fell from the sky.

****

“Compensate!”

“I can’t compensate, we’re missing an entire engine!” The Navigations Officer replied, a little snappier than they’d have liked, but the officer was stressed. Trying not to send a multiton ship crashing into an inhabited city does that. “I can keep us up a little longer, but we’re going down, sir.”

“Then put us in the water. Do we have enough lift to keep us afloat?”

“... We should, yes. As long as we don’t take on too much water.” The bridge officer nodded, and as ordered, got the warship limping towards the coast. Dropping debris the whole way, and losing altitude at the same rate, the bridge was nothing but terse silence for several minutes. That is, until they were finally past the coast and above the water at a paltry fraction of their recommended altitude. Then the Navigation Officer gave only two words of suggestion, a suggestion relayed over the intercom. “Brace yourselves.”

The Olympic touched down hard, sending massive waves rocketing away from the point of impact. But more importantly, it stayed afloat. Barely, but it did. The captain let out another sigh, and wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow.

“... Call Horizon base. We’re going to need help back to the shipyards. And get me a status report on the ship and the crew.”

OOC: So! That ends our little first mini-arc. Assume that it has been about half an hour to an hour since the Colonists withdrew, enough time for everyone to get back to base, and for McKinley to get rushed to the hospital. Those of you with destroyed/damaged/in-need-of-respeccing Walkers can get in touch with me to talk about changing them. If they’re just getting straight up repaired, no need to talk to me.

[Razgriz]

IC: It was testament to O'Sullivan's skill that his Walker had come out practically unscathed, and arguably in contention for "in the best shape out of every mech from Horizon"

Which made it a little jarring, then, to see her in the Ward next to a Raptor that had casually touched down with about one and one quarter of a wing onto the nearest free Horizon Landing Pad and offloaded a downed pilot hailing from the similarly downed Olympic, and dutifully radioed into mission control announcing that "Eagle Omaha successfully landed. Where to for repairs?"

Yeah, it was one of those days on base after the Colonists beat a retreat.

Standing next to the Irishman and equally as interested in watching the repairs was the pilot of the Raptor in question, one Johnathon David Peters.

"Just go with Johnny. Everyone does."

"So you wanna tell me 'ow that one happened, yeh?" asked the Horizon native conversationally, feeling the two of them standing there with their arms folded like some sort of Average Guy + Big Guy pair to have gotten stale. (for you)

Inclining his head towards his beloved Eagle Omaha, the American Response to Distilled Irishness in the Military obliged. "I was flight lead on one of the Raptor teams from Olympic. We went strafe the enemy ship, got a few good shots in, but they got a few in on us."

"And you landed with one wing after that?"

"Not exactly," he shook his head. "Three of us made it out fine, but Kenny's bird got clipped and he lost control."

"And he ejected?"

"Of course. I told 2 and 4 to RTB, and I went after him. Lost my wing on that last parting shot."

He smirked. "Never leave a man behind, eh?"

"Would die before that happened. Thankfully, none of us had to."

"Yeah... Couple of the boys at the Mass Driver weren't so lucky."

A lantern jaw tightened for a moment, before the larger man nodded.

"Sorry to hear. I'm hearing we lost some good people back on the Olympic too."

And they got off practically scot free in exchange.

So we'll just have to tear those loony a new one next time. 

"Mm."

He nodded in turn, and the two returned to silence.
 

Edited January 7, 2016 by Oshino Meme

[sunflower]

IC: Marcus

 

Not for the first time that hour, Luna laced her fingers together, before resting her elbow on her knees and brow on her thumbs. More to keep from shaking than from exhaustion. She had been on the verge of collapse for the better part of that hour, having been effectively shot to bits and then tossed around in a blender. The doc had cleared her, prescribing rest and "get the heck outta my medical ward you're fine". Said she had a minor concussion, whatever that meant, she had a feeling that they just wanted her out of their hair. So, yeah, about ready to fall over, it was just that she was never the best at dealing with getting off the adrenaline high.

 

Everything seems fine right up to that, doesn't it.

 

"God #### it."

 

The common area was relatively empty, well, all things considered, not really that unusual. Everyone else on the base was either running around like a headless chicken or being patched up by the medics. The rest of the pilots were probably hanging out in the hanger, waiting for debrief, bothering the mechanics about their Walkers. Absentmindedly, she wondered if they would recover the smoking wreck that was the Aronnax. Would probably take a small miracle to get it in one piece, let alone, y'know, functional.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Most of Horizon's R&D money had been burned like kindling today, one Raptor at a time.

 

When Nadia Lorena White eased Munequita into the hangar, her entire body was filled with a dull, empty ache; her limbs were locked in exhaustion; the two sets of brash maneuvers she'd executed (first when the Union battleship began plucking the pilots of Dingo from the sky one at a time, and then again as the Raptor pilots of the Olympic formed on her to begin striking the ship when reinforcements arrived) coupled with her mad quest to push Munequita back to factory specs in time to save other pilots had done a number on her stomach. She didn't feel like putting a meal down for days. But almost none of that mattered in comparison to the ache in her chest when she saw that hers was the first Raptor to touch back down at the Federation base, and the realization that none of the screams of the jets behind her had rang in her ears when they had all taken off hours previously.

 

Same mechs, maybe. There were a lot of Raptors on the Olympic. But not the same screams. That made a lot of difference. And the Major...

 

Goddamn it, she meant to yell as she pulled her helmet off, but all that came out was a woozy "guuuuh" and the heady taste of her own blood on her lips. Somehow, telepathically, the base's medical staff had known to come for her. Even as she fought off the vertigo that was claiming her senses and steadied herself, she could see the telltale medical patches on the shoulders of the small squad of soldiers coming near her; they knew enough to stand back and not encircle her, at least, which was welcome as she struggled for control of her senses. Doctors suck.

 

"Relaaaax, doc, I just need--huk," Nadia fought her own gag reflex and swallowed hard, "--I just need some clean air. And some paper towels from the bathroom." She held down one nostril and winced at the fresh trickle of blood down onto her top lip. "The other Raptors..."

 

"They're settling in now." Somehow, they had conjured up a wheelchair, complete with oxygen and a light, unintrusive mask for her to put on. Lauren recoiled at the sight of it nonetheless, even as a nurse attempted to ease her into it. Where are they getting all this !? Through her panic at potentially being taken in as inpatient, Lauren grabbed the first patched shoulder she saw.

 

"Our Raptors." Her legs were feeling weak, and the breath still wasn't coming to her as it should. "Where's our Raptors."

 

Maybe she got an answer, but there was this sketchy ringing in her ears that drowned it out if it came.

 

"Mc...Kinley!" she quizzed next, though in order to make herself heard over the din she had to raise her voice and frame the question as more of a call. The comm chatter that had erupted with the Major's defeat against the big mech had been Herculean, and had Lauren not been giving the Olympic Raptors a tour of the skies around her fair city, she might have risked going in for him.

 

"They're doing what they can," the doctor said. Lauren's gut sank, and this time, when they tried to ease her into the chair, she relented - just as she did when the oxygen mask was pressed over her face.

 

*****

 

An hour later, she was sitting bolt upright in bed, bathroom paper towels clotting up both nostrils. A cup for water was resting beside her, along with a closed silver pitcher and another large cup of ice; she had been left to mix and match at her pleasure until she had vomited up her first two cups of water in exhaustion. Diagnosed with severe dehydration, hyperventilation, spatial disorientation and pushing the strict limits of her mech, she had been forced to consume liquids carefully and take deep, calm breaths for the better part of an hour. Five minutes ago, she had finally been able to cajole the mask off.

 

Now she was already in the mood to get back to her baby.

 

Or, given the familiar accent that had buzzed in her ear as the Olympic finally arrived an hour ago, both her babies.

 

-Tyler

[sunflower]

IC: Viviana

 

In an understandably sour mood, Viviana kicked a piece of plasma-melted armor off the flight deck of the Olympic and into the waters of the ocean a good distance below.

 

"So that was new."

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

Watching the battered Walker crews make their way in from the field was... Disheartening. This was supposed to be a routine trip. Reach Horizon, stay a few days for fine tuning and relaxation, then it was off to space for the Olympic. Instead the city was a battleground before they ever even arrived. By the time they arrived, it was worse than a battleground. More like a slaughter. The entire complement of Walkers on board the ship had launched, but it turned out even the ship had gotten shot down.

 

More importantly, the colonists had decided to take personal offense at the base's Raptor divisions. Which had made one of the Olympic's pilots take a rather personal offense towards the colonists in general, something very much reflected when she launched as part of the ship's Squadron One. And reflected in the quantity of munitions expended in so short an engagement.

 

When she heard a familiar voice over the comms, she felt better.

That went away when the owner of that voice landed.

 

She would have words with that owner when she was awake, but for now, she was busy overseeing the assignment of the Ronin to a service bay. The ship's Walkers, for now, were being transferred to Horizon base.

 

IC:

 

"Well that sucked." Benjamin commented as soon as he was climbing down from the Vernichten, overseeing the returning machines. Technically, he was a Test Team pilot. But after this... He had a feeling he was going to be pulling triple duty. Developmemt, repairs, and combat missions. Mostly the second one for a good long while.

There were a lot of mechs to fix.

[25K Now!]

IC: Kam Siu Din

 

"Yes it was," said an accented voice from beside Viviana.

 

Ensign Kam was standing on the flight deck, a datapad in hand as she recorded the damage done. 

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

An hour later, she was sitting bolt upright in bed, bathroom paper towels clotting up both nostrils. A cup for water was resting beside her, along with a closed silver pitcher and another large cup of ice; she had been left to mix and match at her pleasure until she had vomited up her first two cups of water in exhaustion. Diagnosed with severe dehydration, hyperventilation, spatial disorientation and pushing the strict limits of her mech, she had been forced to consume liquids carefully and take deep, calm breaths for the better part of an hour. Five minutes ago, she had finally been able to cajole the mask off.

 

-Tyler

 

IC:

 

With the better part of the last hour having been dedicated to damage calculation and dozen of initial analyses, with her head still swimming with the sounds of bullets screaming and a sabre lined up on the back of the Wolf, with the feeling of lunch still bubbling up and reaching up for air, it wasn't beyond possibility that Gwen Talal had completely missed seeing the last remaining Horizon Raptor pilot on her first pass of the med-bay. The second pass, coming back from a silent visit with ... well, she had come back to the world enough to be aware when she was looking at the woman behind the Munequita.

 

Her helmet held between her left forearm and the mechsuit plating on her side, the engineer considered trying a small smile, but finally decided against.

 

"Oh, uh," said the flustered engineer just stepping into the room. "Hey, White."

 

-Void

[25K Now!]

IC: Christoph

 

"We will likely be taking to the battlefield more frequently," said Christoph, approaching Benjamin to watch the machines.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Mm?" 

 

Nadia's head lifted from her glass of water to take in the sight of the pilot before her. She had been thinking of the way she'd been piloting, trying to remember marshaling the Raptors from the Olympic to strafe the Union ship. Not many jockeys outside of a transformable really got the point of that kind of suicidal bravado - let alone people. But for, say, the people who had broken the sound barrier over a century before...or the old astronauts and cosmonauts...

 

They would have gotten why she became a different person when she strapped herself into Munequita. Why every Raptor pilot pushed themselves. Someone had to pioneer this . Even if it meant that more often than not when you stepped out of a Walker, you felt like you wanted to crawl in bed and sleep for a weekend. Or if it meant that you needed to blink a dozen times for the color to leave your line of sight--

 

Oh. There was a reason that she was seeing so many different colors on top of a human head, and it wasn't her lightheadedness.

 

"Hey, Talal. At least the docs are letting someone walk around on parole." Lauren grinned weakly and sipped on her iced water to prevent a sore groan from slipping out. "Did my eyes deceive me on the way here, or is there a vending machine down the hall? Might stretch my legs, make a visit to the commissary. If you want to keep a girl company."

 

-Tyler

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"Yeah, 'course," Gwen said, taking a chance and trying to match the other pilot's grin. "You, uh, need any help, or...?"

 

-Void

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Mm mm." Lauren stood up slowly, leaving one hand behind her back and planted on the bed to steady herself. When she was on her feet, she reached for her cup of water and drained it. "Aaaah. No, I'm good...thanks. I spent half a decade as a Canada girl in Tokyo, learning how to walk after drenching myself in sake. I laugh at Raptor sickness."

 

...After I'm done wanting to gag...

 

She was feeling better now, though. When she put her mind to walking without a pilot's bowlegged swagger or a wobble in her knees, she found she could do it normally at this point. It was just residual dizziness at this point; it could honestly have been from the ordeal they'd all just survived, and not even her Walker. Maybe she preferred not knowing which.

 

The two girls began to walk - admittedly, not quite at Gwen's normal pace - out of the observation room and down the hall, towards the vending machine. Once there, Lauren began shuffling through her wallet for a couple bills. Finding a crinkled one and smoothing it out on the corner of the machine, she turned to Gwen.

 

"So...you were with McKinley out there, right? Nobody is talking about how he's doing. Is he...?"

 

-Tyler

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"He's, uh ... well, he's alive," she said, apparently overcome with an overwhelming urge to stare down at the side of her helmet. "Tried to check in on him ... I made it to the door but I couldn't quite step inside to look and see-- y'know, 'cause with everyone's running around and everything's in chaos. Couldn't make it inside."

 

...

 

"He's probably been through worse and made it out, though, right? First-gen pilot, one of the vets?"

 

-Void

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

There was a dull clunk instead of an immediate answer, as a pair of soft chocolate chip cookies thudded to the bottom of the vending machine. Lauren slid another bill inside, and then another. She selected a bag of chips and another pair of cookies, handing one pack of the sweets off to Talal with what must have been a very, very woozy reassuring smile.

 

"McKinley's made of tungsten. I'm sure that once he's stable and hears what they did to the Wolf, he'll be the first one ready to tear that ship apart with his bare hands. You know how old people get when you break their stuff."

 

-Tyler

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"I guess you're right," Gwen said, the double-whammy of White's reassurances and processed sugar hitting the bloodstream bringing back some of the engineer's old cheer. "Those ###### won't know what hit 'em once McKinley's up and kicking again."

 

-Void

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"I was thinking the same thing, boss." Bejamin answered, glancing up from his diagnostic display only briefly to look at Christoph. The Vernichten hadn't suffered much damage, though its shield would need a little patching, but he wanted to be sure. Then he could start helping out with fixing the Walkers in much more dire straits. "We're gonna have to."

[25K Now!]

IC: Christoph

 

They had lost too many during that battle.

 

Christoph was a test pilot. He had not been part of a conflict for a number of years.

 

But this situation had changed that.

 

"We'll likely be testing all of R&D's countermeasures to the colonials too," he said, leaning back against the railing to think, "to find something effective against their machines. Tell me, how did the Vernichten fare against them?"

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Hard to say." The German pilot's accent, normally, was virtually nonexistent. Years of speaking English to converse with his colleagues helped a lot with that. Every now and again on the test field it crept back in, or when he was working with an imminent deadline. High stress occasions. While he ducked in and around the people and equipment in his both, checking on the Vernichten, it was out in force and kept getting heavier. "Enkaged zem for only a few minutes. DMR-fire vas ineffectiffe. Didn't get zee chance to try an augmended shot. Hit zem vith a full salffo of missiles, didn't get the chance to zee how much damage it did. But it didn't take any of zem down."

 

"Irishman and zee diplomat's escort vere zere too, didn't do much more. Vernichten didn't take any damage, on zee other hand, and neither of the other Varriors did either. Stalemate."

IC:

 

The impromptu moment of silence between Lauren and Gwen was interrupted, a few moments in, by a set of footsteps that made themselves known apart from the amorphous commotion of the medbay. Not by volume or speed, but by the simple fact that they were approaching their specific location. The idea that they were blocking the vending machines was dispelled, quite quickly, when the owner of those feet spoke.

"Ms. Talal, it would be wonderful if you could explain why the Lance Corporal is outside of her medical room."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Oh no. Look, c'mon, don't blame Gwen, I seduced her into it. I needed snaaaaacks, baaaaaabe." Despite her seeming plea, a grin was already tugging at one side of Nadia's mouth. "Hai Ayane. You look great."

 

-Tyler

Edited January 13, 2016 by Neopolitan

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

Like a spectator at Wimbledon -- albeit less stoically British than you'd find there -- Gwen's gaze ricocheted between White and Ayane as lightbulbs began flashing, strobe-like, in her head. 

 

"Am ... I interrupting something here?"

 

-Void

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"A nurse could have brought you snacks, Nadia." The Ronin's pilot scolded, pivoting slightly to include Gwen in her conversation. "Not at all, Ms. Talal. I recognized you from Lauren's description, that's all."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Wait, was it you that had me booked and processed here? What the , Ayane!?"

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"You were bleeding from the nose, gasping for air, dehydrated, and suffering from vertigo!"

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"No, I totally understand. Iscariot-sama."

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Well, you've got the self-sacrificial complex down."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Gwen," Nadia said loudly, still frowning at the Asian jockey as she attempted to drown out her scorn, "this is Lance Corporal Inoue Ayane, Federation Eastern Division. We dated for four years, but you'd never know it because she only speaks to me like I'm her daughter or something."

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Only when you act like a teenager."
 

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"I looked worse than this stumbling out of simulators before the Raptor squadrons here were even christened! I've had plenty of water, I've caught my breath, and now -" she waved her pack of cookies emphatically to make the point " - I want - " this time, a wave of her chips " - some snacks. I'm no good to anyone locked up in an observation room beating my head against the wall."

 

-Tyler

[The UltimoScorp]

IC Maigo:

 

As would be expected of someone who lost their Walker and got chewed out by their CO, Maigo was currently sulking in the mess hall, picking at her food.

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"Uh ... no, no, I definitely think I'm interrupting something here," Gwen said, taking yet another step back, fingers clenching around the cookies' wrapper. Just in case things got ugly and she needed a weapon.

 

You never knew.

 

-Void

[Silvan Haven]

Kasper Harken

 

IC: "Glad to see us all in more or less one piece." Came the relieved and slightly tired voice of Test Team's only none Walker pilot.

 

Kasper made his way towards the duo from the section dedicated to his prototype armor. The young man had no visible wounds, although considering the battlefield any wounds suffered would most likely have placed him in intensive care.

 

His face was a mix between annoyance and relief as he reached his teammates.

 

"Seems we took lighter casualties then most of the other units."

[25K Now!]

IC: Christoph

 

Christoph nodded. "They were fast and durable. I would say that those machines were clearly superior to ours."

 

They needed to find a way to match those colonial units. Most of the enemy's losses came from sacrifices on the Federation side, and he himself had only managed to obtain some sort of success thanks to some less-than-orthodox tactics.

 

"Harken," he said, attention drifting over towards the approaching member of the Team. "Thank you for your support."

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"You're not interrupting anything. Lauren's just unhappy that I forced her to actually be taken care of, instead of slipping under the medical radar. They didn't do anything that they wouldn't have needed to anyway." Ayane shrugged, seemingly entirely unconcerned by Lauren's increasingly emphatic gestures.

 

"Happy to meet you, Ms. Talal, and happy to see Lauren. Just unapologetic about forcing her to be treated."

IC:

 

"Undoubtedly zuperior. Miles abofe."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

...

 

The pilot's grumbling reached new and creative highs and forms.

 

"Good to see you too, baby."

 

-Tyler

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"Happy to meet you too, ma'am--"

 

you're the same rank

 

"--er, Ms. Inoue. Sorry, sorry, it just ... it totally feels like you outrank me. Just the vibe I'm getting here, who knows why."

 

-Void

[sunflower]

IC: Marcus

 

"Gwen-!"

 

From down the hall, a slight figure waved a hand while bracing the other against the bulkhead. Luna looked about ready to fall over, and stumbled a few steps forward towards the said pilot.

[25K Now!]

IC: Christoph

 

"What were R&D's views on this revelation?"

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Others have expressed a similar view. But no, we're the same rank. And you probably pilot better machines than I do."

IC:

 

"Zey are all reelink. Nothing vorthvile out of zem yet."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Says who? Have you been talking to your mom again?"

 

Nadia quickly remembered she was supposed to be irked at Ayane, and scowled appropriately.

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Lauren, dear, I still pilot an early generation Warrior."