Breaking Point

[Void Emissary]

IC: Marcus

 

She flinched, and probably would'a grabbed onto something to hold herself up... if Gwen hadn't already... taken that precaution.  "That bad huh?" She scrunched her lips together and flared her nose in emphatic disapproval. "Ouch, that bites."

 

"How did they catch us with our pants down?" She wasn't really asking Gwen specifically, more of a brief moment of clarity surfacing from the painkiller-induced haze, which likely was the only thing keeping her from outright fuming. "We got a few of them, right? I mean I messed up two of the big ones pretty good."

 

IC:

 

"Tough to tell," Gwen said. "A couple of them looked to have gotten pretty busted up, but those things weren't like anything we've really ever seen before. Who knows how bad we really hurt them?"

 

-Void

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Very eloquent, Lauren."

[sunflower]

IC: Marcus

 

"Guess that means we just have to be really thorough then."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"You suck way harder than I remember. So uncool."

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Out of practice."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

A coquettish grin spread across Nadia's face, as Ayane must have known it would. She turned to face her Japanese partner as they entered the hangar bay. The Raptor pilot couldn't bear to look and see if there were any scrapes on her baby.

 

Not yet.

 

"We'll just have to correct that before they fix your ship."

 

-Tyler

Edited March 11, 2016 by Costa Vespula

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

...

 

A grin bloomed on the engineer's face.

 

"You're speaking my language, homegirl."

 

-Void

[sunflower]

IC: Marcus

 

"...How many missiles do you think we could strap onto a Gunner?"

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"No lack of time there, then." The Japanese pilot wrapped an arm briefly around her Horizon counterpart's shoulders, squeezing lightly before she let go. "I got a look while it was going down. It's going to take the Federation time to gear up for full war, and the Olympic will need substantial repair. We're likely looking at weeks, not days."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"I live beachfront. Not big. But it's not base housing. You should swing by sometime, if they don't have you busting your ###### on speccing it."

 

The two pilots reached Munequita, and Lauren let out a quiet breath - suddenly, she realized that the only reason people had avoided talking about her gorgeous Raptor was to keep her from climbing back in and pursuing the Union ship from the sky. It was in perfectly fine condition, aside from some minor scorch marks and telltale signs of overexertion near the tail.

 

"Thank ######."

 

-Tyler

Edited March 12, 2016 by Costa Vespula

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Better than I initially thought."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"No faith in your ?"

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Uncertainty in field reports."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"As if I'd die before seeing you throw on the bikini I've been saving."

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

Ayane rolled her eyes faintly, squeezing Lauren's shoulder in a show of faint exasperation. Then she pointed to the Walker bay a few down the line, where the Ronin was docked and waiting for maintenance. It had somehow managed to accumulate some bullet marks, a few with some relatively deep penetration into the armor, and general damage. Which wouldn't normally be unusual.

If she hadn't been in the battle for less than ten minutes.

 

"They put the old girl down that way."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Heeeey, so they did." Lauren put her hands on her hips and angled her head to look down at the Japanese Walker. "Cool."

 

Even though the Ronin had been years past the cutting edge when Inoue Ayane had first clambered into the cockpit, Nadia White had always been jealous of her partner's Walker. In the years where Lauren had been a simple ground trooper and Ayane had dreamed of being a pilot, it was Ayane who effortlessly had managed to obtain Walker duty, while Lance Corporal White was stuck longing for the day she'd receive a letter from the Raptor Program. Ayane would reassure her, often and loudly, that no government on Earth would be stupid enough to deny her the chance to be a jockey for very long.

 

But despite the admiration, the jokes, and even the four-year relationship, one of the few unspoken truths of their relationship was that Ayane's family had always wanted another pilot in the family - and instead got a woman who was assigned an Arsenal Walker with ease.

 

And Nadia had always been a little jealous.

 

"Holy . You actually did go berserker."

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"I... Was a little reckless." The Japanese pilot admitted, eyeing her Walker quietly. She'd hit the ground running with the Ronin, but it wasn't too speedy a machine anymore. Barely had time to engage the beastly enemy that took down McKinley before it fled, and even the mop-up of the non-Federation state Walkers had been a quick affair. But long enough to remind her how clunky it could be in a real fight. Not that she'd cared at the time. Ayane was too busy cursing into the comm line, and tearing through as much metal as her blade could reach. She hadn't been paying much attention to how much damage she was racking up on the Warrior.

 

After the battle, however, she couldn't stop thinking about it. She had managed to take about as much damage as the Munequita had during most of the fight. Sure, the Munequita's relatively light armor meant it had taken fewer hits to get there, but that didn't mean much. The Warrior was too slow. Unwieldy. Her pilot had logged hundreds of hours on the simulators over almost three years, tirelessly trying to improve her skills. The training paid off. She was quicker to react, more experienced, and orders of magnitude better at thinking tactically inside the cockpit than she had been.

 

But the one, absolutely insurmountable barrier was her Walker's performance. She'd tuned it for as much performance as she could possibly squeeze out of a first generation Warrior, short of actually removing the maximum limits for safe operation (mostly because regulations forbade it), but it wasn't enough. She could feel the old girl complaining about the rough treatment, the speeds Ayane demanded of its reactions. It translated to a more frequent maintenance schedule than any other Walker in her unit.

And still, it was one of the slowest.

 

The Munequita was bleeding edge (a little more literal than the Japanese pilot would like), a perfect union of the world Ayane lived in and the one she'd been expected to live in. Fast, flight-capable, and pushing the envelope of Walker engineering. And all she could seem to manage was a fifteen year old Warrior.

"Was a little ."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Ayane found herself wrapped up in a tight hug, coming at her from the right side. A second later, a brief kiss was pressed against her, before Nadia White's chin found her shoulder.

 

"S'okay. We both came back, and that means everything's good."

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Means everything's tolerable. Good is a little too strong a word."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Oww. It's good enough."

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"I didn't mean it that way and you know it."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"I know what you meant."

 

IC:

 

Enemies of Captain Amadeus Jackson would label him as a trial for war crimes waiting to happen. That his fearsome mech, Prometheus, laid such waste to Federation first-gens that it made him almost unfair to deploy, and that his edge had given him an Ares-like thirst for the blood of Earthborn Walker pilots. The charge was often laid at his feet that, even if all humans did indeed have a better half, his was infinitesimally tiny - and most likely went into sleep mode the second he settled in his cockpit.

 

Captain Sophie Monet thought that was giving Jackson way too much undeserved credit. But when it came to the Walker pilot's better half - a better half with bedraggled hair and sleepy eyes that drooped three-quarters closed; a better half that was currently eschewing her noble regalia in favor of an enormous blood-colored hoodie that trailed halfway down her slim, pale thighs and tangled sheets around her ankles; a grumbling, purring, irritable better half that was in the process of spooning her pillow in her quest for a few more amorous minutes with sleep - not a single word was exaggerated.

 

She groaned softly, a sound that trailed off into a French-accented coo. Her next noise was not half so cute; it came out with half a snarl, even as the reason that she could not slip back into her nap came crashing down.

 

They were flying away.

 

"Que s'est-il passe?"

 

Sophie had been expecting to be roused in the wake of a grand victory over the city of Horizon. Her boys in Akai Team would come banging on her door, even the normally taciturn Sanjay, yelling of their great victory, offering to go and grab the bottles if she would find a sabre. Or Jackson himself would try to charm his way through the door and fail, just pitifully enough that Sophie would tug her hoodie down to her knees and greet her fellow captain. Maybe she even expected he would carry her into the comfortable bed of some Federation commander and let her sleep through the debrief, like the gentleman he pretended to be.

 

She didn't expect to be roused by the sounds of mortar fire. Or her subsequent attempts to let Morpheus ravage her petite frame yet again to be undone by the Liberator taking a U-turn.

 

Bâtards.

 

Yes. Bâtards.

 

Somewhere, whether on this ship or on the ground, Federation or Union, there was ry afoot.

 

"Bâtaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaards!" Monet yelled, muffled by the pillow ensnared in her arms and legs.

 

A few minutes later, she was taking the elevator from her quarters down to Liberator's Walker bay, which was milling about with activity as the Union's handpicked advanced jockeys returned from their engagement. Monet noticed spaces missing; one of Jackson's men had not returned with his squadron, and another had come in the form of an escape pod. His team looked largely shaken; even Prometheus looked like its paint would need some touching up.

 

Akai Team, her boys, had fared much better. She let out a cry of pleasure at seeing all four milling towards her, mechs largely unscathed; Eastwood Evans, with his athlete's swagger and charming hick drawl; Sanjay Hans, the thinking man of the team, handsome and reserved; Akai-3, Lawrence Dundee, an Australian Behemoth pilot who did the best Billy Joel covers onboard the ship; and Akai-4, Nat (nee Natalie) "King" Cole, whom some amongst the ship frequently referred to as "Post-Op" - none more frequently than Nat himself. Sharp-faced and casual, he hung off of Eastwood's shoulder, stifling a yawn. He was the first to catch sight of her.

 

"Hello, Captain." That got the rest of Akai Team's attention, and suddenly, they were mobbing her with greetings and salutes. She waved them down with a soft smile--

 

--that curdled when she met the target of her irritation, framed like a pretty-boy's picture between the heads of Eastwood and Sanjay.

 

"Meeeerdeeeeeeee!" the Liberator's co-captain growled at her confident compatriot, before he had even truly left Prometheus' shadow. "Merde merde merde, Capitaine! Merde à la puissance treize!"

 

"Hello, Captain," Jackson said casually. Sophie glared at him furiously before raising her arms up to give her the appearance of a sub-five-foot goal post. She snapped her fingers twice; Eastwood and Sanjay dutifully lifted her by her biceps and carried her around to Jackson's back, which she latched to with her legs in order to properly view the Liberator's crew from his line of sight. Her arms wrapped around his neck so tightly that she could feel his Adam's apple bob in amusement he hadn't earned. His hair was cushioning her chin.

 

Monet pointed forward.

 

"The bridge?" Amadeus Jackson asked casually.

 

She nodded darkly. She waved off Akai Team - ("C'mon, guys, let's go grab some beers! Foosball!" Eastwood's triumphant cry trailed behind them) - and felt herself bob with each step as Jackson began to take both of them to the bridge, where their status report would be anticipated. Monet braced herself for a fight.

 

"Have you heard anything from the rest of the Colonists?" Jackson asked. 

 

"Non," replied Monet.

 

"What have you been up to since we dropped?"

 

"J'ai fait la grasse mat." Monet shrugged shamelessly; Jackson looked up at her, and she tugged at his hair until he righted his gaze. The cool-demeanored Meteor Team leader rolled his eyes before speaking again softly.

 

"You mean to tell me that not only did we manage to eviscerate nearly all of Horizon's walkers...not only did we manage to cripple their new flagships...not only did the Union launch the greatest coordinated attack on military targets in the Federation's history...but you, handpicked to be my co-captain, slept through it? That's what you're telling me, Monet?" His voice took on a slight edge, though it was tempered by the way that Jackson rolled his eyes at her again.

 

She tugged his hair.

 

"You slept through a unilateral declaration of war on Earth?"

 

"Oui."

 

She tugged his hair. Jackson sighed dramatically.

 

"Ah well," he opined. "I'm sure the others had more luck."

 

-Tyler

Edited March 15, 2016 by Costa Vespula

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Good. I'd hate to think it has been long enough for you to misunderstand me so easily."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Dunno about that." Nadia lazily stroked the Japanese pilot's hair, pushing it behind one of her ears. "Still too long doe."

 

-Tyler

[The UltimoScorp]

IC Maigo:

 

This chick was too pretty for her own good.

 

 

It me off for some reason. The word 'idol' came to mind, and I scowled. "Is that all? Or can I get back to my sim session?"

[25K Now!]

IC: October M. Brightbridge

 

She brushed some stunning, scarlet strands away from her delicate face, allowing the locks to beautifully frame her soft skin.

 

"Not at all," replied October M. Brightbridge in her sweet, god-given voice. "You, Private Koizumi, have been assigned as my Gunner copilot."

[The UltimoScorp]

IC Maigo:

 

"WELL i DON-"

 

 

"Wait, what?"

[25K Now!]

IC: October M. Brightbridge

 

A smile of utmost serenity, as if the very embodiment of a tranquil, spring day, breezed across her comely visage, filling her soft, delicate features with almost heavenly light. She tilted her head gently to one side, effulgent tresses of damask cascading with even the most miniscule of movements over her pale, silky skin. Amusement danced within the aquamarine of her beauteous eyes, as if light reflecting off upon the surface of a vast, free ocean. 

 

When she spoke, her insouciant tones flowing from between her alabaster teeth, it was with refinement and poise, with a songlike quality that could have only come from the highest of the angels within the Lord's host. 

 

"It will be a pleasure, Private Koizumi, to be working with you."

[The UltimoScorp]

IC Maigo:

 

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"It has been too long." Ayane agreed, not reacting (visibly) to the Horizon pilot's attention to her hair. "Though I would have wished for better circumstances."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Yeah, that's true. But I dunno how I would have gotten you here otherwise." Nadia reached out and gently brushed hair behind Ayane's other ear to even her out. "Gotta take my W's where I can get 'em."

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"I guess that's fair."

[NorikSigma]

IC: Hassan

 

Hassan watched the ongoing exchange with rapt attention.

[25K Now!]

IC: October M. Brightbridge

 

Her hand, fair in complexion and as soft as the finest of Zayton satin, rested sympathetically upon the youthful Koizumi's exposed shoulder, the solicitous act accompanied by another of her beatific, comely smiles that were comparable to no less than the empyrean visages of the blessed who resided within Arcady.

 

"I'm sorry," she spoke, a veritable seraphic choir escaping her lush, parted lips, "this must have come at a surprise."

[NorikSigma]

IC: Hassan

 

The contrast between the tall and charming Brightbridge and the fiery petite Koizumi, in both physical form and current mental state, was truly astounding. One was thoroughly relishing the direction the conversation was going, while the other was only able to twitch in response. Hassan was fully expecting them to mutually annihilate the moment Brightbridge laid a shapely hand on her new co-pilot.

 

Maybe I should stand back all the same, he thought, as he observed Koizumi's... thoroughly flummoxed, expression.

[The UltimoScorp]

IC Maigo Koizumi:

 

"I....you...."

 

She jerked involuntarily away from the hand.

 

"I'm sorry, what? Last I was told I was prohibited from even setting foot within ten meters of a Walker, and now you're telling me I'm Co Piloting one of the -bigger- ones?!"

[Atton Rand]

OOC: Okay, I apologize if I seem at all repetitive right now. I'm obviously out of touch with everything that has been going on so I figure it's good to start somewhere I know and work my way in from there.

 

IC: "I AM SERGEANT MAXWELL, YOUR SENIOR DRILL INSTRUCTOR," she blared across the barracks. A group of thirty men and women stood at attention. "You all disgust me! You are not even human beings. You are not even maggots! You are the garbage that maggots eat, and unless you can learn to defend yourself, those maggots will find you!"

 

The Sergeant moved toward one young recruit. "What's your name, Private?"

 

"Private Gross, ma'am!" The young recruit shouted in response.

 

"Private Gross? A fitting name indeed, because you disgust me! I'm officially putting you in charge of the latrine. Understand?"

 

"MA'AM! YES MA'AM!" The young recruit shouted, trying not to give Maxwell grounds to treat her any worse.

 

"I WANT THAT LATRINE SCRUBBED SO WELL YOU COULD EAT OFF OF IT! UNDERSTAND!?"

 

"Ma'am! Yes ma'am!"

 

"THEN I WANT YOU TO EAT OFF OF IT! EVERY MEAL! BREAKFAST, LUNCH, AND DINNER WILL BE EATEN IN THAT LATRINE! UNDERSTAND?!"

 

"MA'AM! Yes MA'AM." The recruit was obviously nervous, trying desperately to keep it in.

 

"What's the matter?" Maxwell asked. "Afraid of a few germs?"

 

"Ma'am! No Ma'am!"

 

"Good," Maxwell said as she finally backed off the recruit and moved toward one of the others.

 

OOC: I guess Sgt. Maxwell is now open for interaction. I'll have to see if I can find a way to bring her into the main action.

[Blessed Blade]

-==IC: Chloe==-

 

It was a simple trip. Head to her room, get the stuff she needed, and get out. Then she heard the rant.

 

"Hey. Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" The girl walked toward Maxwell. She had heard the entire thing. Chloe clenched her fist, as she walked toward the drill sergeant with a piercing look on her face. At about that point, she had pretty much lost control of her temper. "Do you not realize what just happened?! And you boss round them like it's just a normal day?" Her fist swung out suddenly toward the instructor's face.

[Atton Rand]

IC: Sgt. Maxwell turned in surprise as she saw the new arrival. This was nothing unusual for her. She quickly dodged the punch and took a few steps backward.

 

"You've just assaulted a senior officer," Maxwell said. "I trust there is a good reason for this, corporal."

[Blessed Blade]

-==IC: Chloe==-

 

"Inhumane treatment of fellow soldiers is one." Chloe said, as she cracked her knuckles. If looks could kill, the sergeant would have fallen straight to the ground by now. "There is not a single chance in the world that what you just ordered is right. Are you just oblivious to everything around you?"

 

Chloe took deep breaths to try and calm herself down, but took a step forward again. She wasn't about to just let this corrupt instructor get away from this. The girl advanced again, fists still clenched.