| Super Robot Wars: Aurora Jamais Vu; Zero Chapter | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 10 2018, 06:25 PM (236 Views) | |
| Liger MKII | Jan 10 2018, 06:25 PM Post #1 |
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Not amused.
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Presenting Super Robot Wars: Aurora... the fanfic edition! = = = Disclaimer: The following is a fan-written parody. This is a Super Robot Wars fanfiction, and there are so many properties that I’m not even going to bother listing it here. This is a collaborative effort! Between me and many good friends. We hope you enjoy! Super Robot Wars Aurora: Zero Chapter [PROLOGUE] March 24, 1995 The Sherman Residence On the outskirts of Onogoro Island, Orb Union |The Sherman Family| “… While actual details are uncertain at this time, the Belkan state of emergency has appeared to have deepened. Coup d'etat forces are in a standoff with Government loyalists in Dinsmark, whereas all military bases in the region have called their forces in and gone under lockdown. Due to the media blackout, it is difficult to say when we will get further information on the ongoing crisis.” On the Orb Union's island of Onogoro, in a large house on the edge of a long sandy beach, a man wearing boxer shorts and sporting a messy mane of long black hair stumbled his way down the stylish curved stairway leading to the second floor. Leaving the steps, walked over into the living room of the house–a massive and comfortably furnished room sporting a semi circle of couches in front of hologram projected television. In front of the projector, and on the floor in front of the couch, a two year old girl with red hair and green eyes fumbled with the remote control with some frustration. “Mmm… ooh…!” She growled as she pressed some buttons and got no response from the remote. Before she could throw it down in anger, she was suddenly scooped up by the man and let out a squeak. “Daddy!” “Fatima, what are you doing in here?” The man, Nicholas Fontaine Sherman, asked her as he hoisted her up onto his shoulder. The girl immediately giggled from being so high up, and wrapped her arms around his head. “I wanted to watch Blue!” “You could've asked your brothers or sisters to work the DVR for you.” “They sleep,” the girl replied. “Yeah, I bet,” Nick said as he carried her to the kitchen. “I'll set it up for you. You want some breakfast?” “Can I have scramle eggs?” Fatima asked, sounding excited and hopeful. “Yes, with BBQ sauce on them too,” Nick promised her, earning happy bouncing from his child. “And since you were up before everybody else, I'm gonna make them just for you first.” “Yay!” Fatima cheered. As he walked into the kitchen and began to gather stuff to make breakfast, however, Nick turned an ear back towards the television projector. “To those of you joining us right now, this is the latest: After several weeks of increasing protest from the top commanders of the Belkan army and air force, a coup d'etat is underway in the capital of Dinsmark. Several generals and the forces under their command have rebelled against the ruling Liberal Democratic Party and are in a stand off against forces loyal to the prime minister Waldemarr Rald, whose current status and location are both unknown at this time,” the Orb Union newscaster, Allison Izland, reported. “The LDP has issued a state of emergency and a complete mobilization of its forces as the country falls under martial law.” Nick looked at Fatima and gestured to the black-haired, green-eyed anchorwoman. “Do you see Auntie Alli on TV?” “Uh huh,” Fatima replied. Nick looked at the TV again, and hummed. Belka was about to fall into Civil War? It was a long time coming, he guessed. Still, this was big news. The whole world was going to be watching this one. After whipping up some breakfast, Nick sat down and turned the television projector over to a mystery solving blue puppy and her helpful owner/sidekick. Fatima was perched upon his shoulders, eating from her bowl with the utmost of care to keep from spilling any eggs in his hair. In front of Nick, however, he had another smaller projector keeping him abreast of the Belkan crisis. Unfortunately, it seemed that the anchors and their so-called experts were content to talk themselves in circles as they waited for new information. “Geez, it can't be that slow of a news day, Alli. Can we at least go to sports for a bit? My hands are too full to swipe,” he said quietly. He heard footsteps, and then a gasp. “Nick, do not let Fatima eat up there.” “Too late,” Nick said, “She's not going anywhere.” Fatima looked over at the pretty blonde-haired woman dressed in a business suit who had come downstairs. “Mommy! I didn' spill any!” She said before a dollop of scrambled eggs fell off her spoon and into Nick's hair. “Oop!” Nick chuckled. “You'll do better next time.” Helena Sherman walked over and then around the couch, so Nick didn't have to turn his head and disturb Fatima's eating. “You're spoiling her.” “We spoil all of our kids,” Nick argued, before he noticed her attire. “You're dressed fancy.” “Garm Team is coming morning with the client who wants to see us,” Helena said. “Did you forget?” Nick needed a moment to process that, before he nodded slowly. “Yes, I forgot.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, have fun with that one.” Helena stared at him. Nick stared back. Her arms went akimbo, and Nick suddenly remembered… that he forgot something else. “… I'm supposed to be at the office, too, aren't I?” Helena nodded. Nick almost blurted out “Shit!” but remembered the very curious and impressionable child astride his shoulders. “I'll get dressed.” Helena scowled. “And showered?” Nick removed the empty bowl of scrambled eggs from atop his head and then handed Fatima to her mother. “And showered.” “And wear a suit; not that goofy shirt Howard gave you!” “Yes! Goodness woman, you act like I can't function without you!” Nick said as he hurried for the stairs. “You can't!” Helena shouted after him, before looking to looking to Fatima. “He needs us, doesn't he Fatima?” Fatima, whose eyes hadn't left the main projection, nodded in agreement. Chuckling, Helena rocked her daughter and then looked down at the smaller projector. “Oh no,” she murmured when she saw the bad news. Belka was about to go to war with itself, a strange and new development, were there any. “Damn it Wald, this is what happens when you try to act Britannian…” |The Gang| The Sherman Family’s company, Rebel Yell LLC, was not a conventional Private Military Company in the slightest. Established in 1983 by a man rendered hollow by the horrors of war and conquest, it is a mercenary organization that emphasizes family bonds and the connections that come with it. Not in a mafioso or yakuza sense, but in a genuine family unit–those who joined this company were thought of as family, and cared for the same. That, combined with competent leadership, a casual and open working environment, and a real concern for its employees made Rebel Yell an ideal place for the disparate, the lonely, and the simply aimless. That was only a part of their appeal for one Nier Engels, a young man who fell from the stars and needed a place to crash. Signing on with them had been a lot more fortuitous than he originally expected it to be. “Except for the part where I’m being ridden like a mule…” the young man with short white hair and vibrant green eyes whispered quietly as he walked down a busy shopping district despite the early day. In spite of his claim of pack animal status he was wearing a set of tasteful black pants and a fashionable white button-up short sleeve shirt. Lending to it was his grip on the six bags worth of expensive clothes to further the fashion adventures of one Prelude Melchior and one Elizabeth Darlian. Much louder, he bemoaned his fate. “You know, I probably should have known better than to accept, but nope… Nier Engels just had to be a nice guy and offer to take you shopping. At least it paid off~” The person he bemoaned his situation to was the tall and attractive bespectacled woman accompanying him, dressed salaciously in a short, pleated skirt and a blouse that had more buttons undone than done. Her hair, worn up in a ponytail, was an acidic purple–which contrasted perfectly with her flouride blue eyes. The woman, the aforementioned Prelude Melchior, broke into a grin at his comment. “Your generosity will be well rewarded.” “Just between you and me, is it necessary to play fashion show? I keep needing to wear loose pants for the occasions. Really don't need awkward comments coming from Elizabeth or Euria… or Helena…” he hung his head as they passed an electronics store. “Enjoying a little eye candy never hurt anyone, Nier,” Prelude said flirtatiously to him. Looking at the TV in the window, he lagged behind when could see the news report about the steadily-boiling tensions being suffered by Belka, before he frowned and thought to himself. ‘Guess the situation down here's not much better than what's up in the Colonies. But at least down here I have the tools, company, and space to do what I can to oppose it.’ He nodded, and took a step forward, nearly stumbling and dropping the clothes a moment later. “Be careful with those,” Prelude chided smartly. “A-all right, clothes back at home first, then I can finally relax…” he stood upright, holding his head higher as he trailed after Prelude. Jiggling a few of the bags in his other hand, he frowned and looked at Prelude. “Are you sure you even bought clothes? Some of the things you picked out don’t seem like the sort you wear… for very long.” He wasn't sure if he wanted to peek in the bags or not to make sure. “If you can wear it, doesn't that count as clothes?” She asked. “A case can be made against pasties, you know.” Nier shot back. “Besides, I picked them out for you,” she pointed out, “So what makes you think you'll be relaxing anytime soon?” “… Personal hopes?” Nier asked with a hopeful smile, before realizing there truly would be no rest for the weary or wicked with the predatory smile Prelude gave him. It was not long before they reached what used to be an airport terminal for what one of Orb’s airports/air defense force bases. The facility, 9,000 foot runway, hangars and all, had been one of the first purchases for Rebel Yell after it was closed down by Orb’s Attha Family after it came into power in the Early 80s. Within a year it became literally their home base, while the terminal was converted into an office park for the organization, the sleek and curvaceous mansion that sat at one end, overlooking the ocean, was an entirely new build from the ground up. A futuristic home for a forward-thinking mercenary group. Rebel Yell LLC was an unconventional business with an unconventional staff. While it had its reputation as a company that gets the jobs it’s given done, Rebel Yell was more of a playground than a traditional workplace. It still finished it's contracts efficiently, though if anyone ever knew what went on in the background they might reconsider the professionalism inherent. Entering the office with Nier in tow, Prelude walked over to an especially loud cubicle and opened up the door to exhibit A: the presented backside of Elizabeth Darlian like a baboon in heat. Her eye quirked and she moved up behind the other woman with a suspicious grin on her face before she could be seen. Elizabeth was a well-tanned woman as beautiful as she was genius, sporting long lavender colored hair that reached to the middle of her back, with two long white locks that fell behind the ear and hung down to her waist. Her electric blue eyes, with fashionable spectacles worn over them, were narrowed in frustration as she stared at the monitor of a computer that took up nearly all of the cubicle and gave off tremendous heat in its processes. So much so that it warranted her being next to naked, wearing only a racy g-string thong and matching bra. “Fuck me,” she said to the monitor, which was displaying the image of a mechanical arm flexing back and forth, red spots quickly forming at all of the moving parts. “Fuck me in the ass…” She moaned. The arm then proceeded to fly apart, disintegrating into a million pieces. “FUCK ME IN THE ASS WITH A BUSTER SHIELD!” She screamed. She was not having the best of mornings. “Oh babe… I'm sorry, I'm not quite built for that… “ Prelude petted Elizabeth's shoulder with a look of sympathy, then placed one of the bags on her desk. Nier just let out a sigh, it was probably an average day for her, but at least there was no company. With an exasperated sigh he asked. “I like hardcore smut as much as the next man or woman in this outfit, but can you not fantasize about my machine?” He then grimaced at the mental imagery. Hot as she was, it was still wrong. “I'm gonna have thoughts about that one now, maybe I should call a shrink.” “I can have you all over my couch later and you won't even have to pay me…” Prelude purred. “Which is probably good, since I need the funds to go buy me things every so often,” Nier mused, trying to evade the pass and failing given his reddened cheeks. Prelude looked at the monitor. “What's giving you trouble?” Nier looked at the monitor as well and whistled. “Tech giving you problems?” Not even looking back at the couple, or caring for her nudity around them, Elizabeth Darlian gestured at the computer monitor. “The Marionette System's not holding up to the stress of transforming. The components buckle and shatter once they start to move into the hyperextended state and that's it, it's done!” Lu gazed at the screen, rubbing her chin now. The Marionette System was something that had been giving them trouble for some time now and to see it wasn't making as much progress as they'd hoped left her wondering if it was just one simple thing they'd missed. She'd been through the same thing on her projects, and the nights she'd spent trying to get things off the ground. Elizabeth then turned to face them. “I have been up all night fine-tuning and adjusting every possible variable. Folding speed, angle of position, density of material. Every single time it fails catastrophically.” “We've tried magnetizing joints and generally using electrical means for this, right? I guess maybe transformation systems just aren't too practical yet,” Nier observed, pocketing his hands. She shook her head. “I wasn't even able to kick back and lie down because I had so many numbers to adjust, and then restore to default and then adjust again and what fucking time is it?” She could see the sun filtering through windows across the modestly large office pool of the company. “Fuck my life, I've been awake 24 hours.” Prelude was on top of things, draping an arm over her shoulders to gesture to the bag. “Sale at Foxxy's, maybe that'll help a little?” She noticed the bag from Foxxy's and dove for it. “And then suddenly I don't care anymore! Thank you, Lu!” Prelude smiled. “Invite me to the party next time, you know I can go all night~” “Ooh, we can do it in our cute underwear,” Elizabeth said, eyes gleaming despite her tiredness. “That's the spirit. Lingerie work parties are the best,” Prelude said cheerfully, her eyes half-veiled. On that note, she added, “Nier you’re free to join us, one of those bags is for you. I remembered your size, after all~” Giving her a flat look, he glanced downward before droning. “Aw, you shouldn't have. Well, maybe when I feel a little less self-conscious, I'll parade around in 'em for yours and everyone else’s enjoyment. I might need to be a little drunk for that though.” “I’ll bring the brandy if you bring the booty,” Elizabeth promised, prompting a giggle from Prelude and a groan from Nier. The doors to the office pool opened and Nick and Helena walked in. Nick trailed a bit behind Helena, hands in his pockets, while Helena held a tablet PC in hand. She was going over notes with him. Elizabeth, Prelude, and Nier all rose to have a look over the cubicle wall at the two. This was much easier for the taller Prelude, whereas her two short friends had to go to the entrance and peer out. “The client is an eccentric scientist from Adama,” she reminded him. “Gotcha, pervert who plays those girl games,” Nick translated. “He's not a pervert, and he does not play 'girl games.' He is a bit eccentric, but that really ties into the job he wants done.” “He's from Adama, they all play those weird games… not that I hold it against them,” Nick was quick to add that last bit. “Honestly, that card game of theirs with all the slutty chicks is great.” Helena eyed him. “Which one?” Nick chuckled. “Exactly.” Helena huffed and rolled her eyes. “Hey bosses, what's the word? We got a job or something from Adama?” Nier asked. Prelude was more curious about the meaning of slutty girl games: were they slutty games for girls, or games featuring a colorful cast of exploitable damsels? “Cipher and Pixy are flying in our client from Adama,” Helena replied to the inquisitive Nier, whilst paying Elizabeth's near-nudity no concern whatsoever. “He's one of those crazy mad scientists who are popular in Adama these days.” Nick smiled big. “So he's going to be perpetually harassing the women and acting like a big virgin all the time.” Nier grinned as he looked toward Prelude, before he scratched his chin. “You know what that means, Prelude. Dial back the sex appeal before you make the old fogey die of a heart attack.” Helena turned to stare at both men. “Don't be rude; he's offering good money for this gig, and even better… he works in the field of mechanics.” “Relax, I'll be good I swear,” Nick promised–without adding that his good behavior lasted right up until the perverted professor decided to mess around with any of the hard-working people here. Helena scowled at specifically at him, before turning to the present staff. “I'm going to ask you all to behave as well. We need a pipeline into some of that sweet super science.” “God, do we need it,” Elizabeth lamented aloud, thinking of the ruined Marionette simulations. “So what does this wallet want us to make?” Prelude asked. “Who knows, but given what they’re offering us, it’s going to probably be a mess,” Nick cheekily replied. |Those Two Guys| Buzzing through the air towards the runway, a lone C-2 Greyhound transport plane painted white except for its right wing (which was red) and bearing the symbol of Rebel Yell LLC–a yellow reverse R with a blue star in its center half of a Y against its back, with “Rebel“ (the R backwards) in blue beneath and Yell written vertically in the trunk of the Y–began lowering its gear for touching down on the runway. Inside the cockpit, the pilot kept a steady approach, while next to him, a heavy yawn left the copilot’s mouth. The dark-skinned, black-haired woman was Euria Halcón Vivas, callsign Cipher. “Sleepy~” Euria said to herself, letting her eyes shut, clearly bored. Just as they shut, however, there was a sudden sharp jostling, as the plane suddenly took a dip and then weaved around a bit. The plane, already rattling from its turboprops, seemed to groan in protest before it leveled out on its glide approach. “Yo buddy, still alive?” The man sitting to her left, and guiding the transport to its approach, was a young looking man of around thirty. Despite most of his face being hidden by his flight helmet, he was clearly a blue-eyed, brown-haired man with a fresh and clean complexion typical of good Belkan genetics. His name was Larry Foulke, callsign Pixy, and otherwise known as Solo Wing. “It's been a long flight, but if you keep nodding off like that, it's gonna look bad for the boss,” he teased lightly. Euria opened an eye, a little more awake. “I'll be a zombie before long at this rate. He can complain about that when I'm gnawing on his brains.” She then huffed and glanced back in the direction of the plane’s cargo bay. “We could have flown him in a lot faster with a two-seater. Maybe a cute F-14~” She folded her arms. “The rest of the cargo could have come in however.” “I don't think our cargo would appreciate eight hours in a Tomcat. I know I wouldn't.” Pixy was a diehard Eagle Fanboy and probably would be until the unlikely moment his Eagle finally let him down. “So picky~” Euria said, a little frustrated with Pixy's devotion to the Eagle. She loved hers too, of course, but other planes had their appeal. An F-15 couldn't do the same job as say a Warthog, and it was important to remember that. The C-2 Greyhound touched down, the hum of its idling engines reaching the main building of the headquarters as it taxied along the runway. Bringing the plane around smoothly, Pixy stopped and parked the plane. “Thank you for flying Rebel Airlines. We hope you enjoyed the trip and haven't been shaken to death by the turbulence… or the vibrations.” “We're fine back here, thank you,” an older gentleman called back as the passengers began to shift around inside the spacious carrier-borne transport plane. Euria removed her flight helmet and shook free her long black hair, left perfectly messy after the long trip. “Other planes are cute too, you know? Even this rhino.” She then grinned and patted the armrest, a gleam in her green eyes. “Maybe you’ll appreciate it better if I convince the boss to let you fly it exclusively for a while. It's already painted all nice for you, Mr. Solo Wing~” “I'd laugh it off, but I know Nick is too sweet on you for your own good,” Pixy admitted. “Just because I'm the great me doesn't mean I get special treatment.” Euria huffed, tying her hair into a ponytail. “That;s exactly why you get special treatment,” Pixy pointed out. Euria just huffed louder. “If I was really getting what I wanted, miniskirts would be part of our official uniform.” Pixy grinned some to Euria as he envisioned the fruits such ambition. “And that is why you're Garm 1, buddy.” Euria beamed and laughed. Inside the HQ, Nick looked towards the windows and saw the C-2, sporting a red-painted right wing, and nodded. “Garm Team made it back safe and sound.” “Great!” Helena said, before she looked over at Elizabeth, and Prelude. “You three go make yourselves busy, now.” “Aye aye, bosses. Suppose i'll use this chance to go and check up on my machine a bit. Give me a call if you need any help.” Nier said as he waved, stepping away and heading off for the hangars. “Shit, 24 hours and still not tired,” Elizabeth lamented. “I'll go help Nier work on D-boy until I pass out.” “Get dressed first,” Helena said. “Yes Mom!” Elizabeth called back sarcastically. “In clothes!” Helena called after her. “Pasties count as clothes, right?” Elizabeth called. “There’s some controversy around that claim,” Prelude said with a small laugh. As the three departed, Nick hummed. “So who is this mystery professor that you're not telling me the name of?” Helena looked out the window, and smiled a bit when she saw the doors open and two people step out. The first was a beautiful teenaged girl with long brown hair held with a pink hair band and caring brown eyes. The other was a dark-haired, middle-aged Adamanian man with glasses and a moustache. Seeing him, Nick's mouth fell open. “… No fucking way. Is that really our client?” “Yes, that is Professor Gennosuke Yumi,” Helena said, “Head Director of the Photonic Power Laboratory.” = = = And so we begin what I promise will be a fairly epic story. Edited by Liger MKII, Jan 10 2018, 06:29 PM.
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| Liger MKII | Jan 12 2018, 02:03 PM Post #2 |
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Not amused.
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Look out, best characters coming through. = = = |The Colonies| Over six decades ago, the Sakuradite Revolution began. With this new miracle ore, mankind’s technological development accelerated by leaps, and bounds. When joined by the technological innovations made in the late 30s and early 40s, mankind was ready and to take its first steps into space by 1948. Within ten years, this first step became a rush to conquer outer space. By the 1960s, the Oil Producing and Exporting Countries of the Verusian Continent had added to their title the Organization of Colony Constructors. Soon, the people of the colonies began to chafe under the leadership of the OPEC/OCC. Led by a man named Heero Yuy, they sought independence and recognition through peaceful discourse. However, his assassination in 1980 and the fierce repression that followed only tightened the grip of the Earth on the colonies. The year is 1995. In a move to break the OPEC/OCC’s tyranny, rebel citizens of certain colonies scheme to bring new arsenals to the Earth, disguising them as shooting stars. As the world began to draw its eyes towards the unrest in Belka, the arrival of these weapons took place without incident… [PROLOGUE] March 24, 1995 Black Sea Base Northwestern Karabastan It is late into the night in Northwestern Karabastan on the continent of Verusa, less than a hundred kilometers inland of the Black Sea to the Southwest. In this cold and heavily forested region, a large military base is located far from any settlement. It is a Mobile Suit factory, responsible for the construction and assembly of OZ-06MS Leo and OZ-07MS Tragos Mobile Suits. On this night in particular, over a dozen four-engined Mobile Suit Transport aircraft sat on the tarmac, fueled up and ready for take off, waiting to be loaded with an extra large order of Leos destined for the colonies. Being so far within the territory of the OPEC/OCC nations, the very thought of an attack was unattainable to those in charge of the base. Sitting within cold metal confines, the face of a man who could attain such thought contorted into a grin. “It is time…” spoke a deep voice, “This shall be a testament to you, Bishamon… and our Quest.” He had been watching for a long time; waiting. Much preparation had gone into this; much planning. It was all set… perfect. All that was left was to let the clock strike… “Now.” With the flip of a switch, a brilliant flash followed by a boisterous boom sent fire and shrapnel flying at the northern end of the base. Comms sprang to life as guard and personnel reacted. A mobile suit moved in with extinguishing equipment flanked by another with weapon ready. “The Lion…” the voice growled with glee, “A formidable foe… in general. Perfect in versatility. Stable. Resilient. Gritty… but almost elegant. It is the weapon of the brave… but we shall see.” As the lead Leo began to extinguish the fire, the pilot within rubbed his eyes thinking he’d seen a figure beyond the flame and smoke. To him, it must have been tricks of light or nerves. There’s no such thing as ghosts, and where they were, no one would ACTUALLY be so stupid as to attack this base. He focused his attention on his task, but the foreboding returned when his eyes wandered, and… “Ah… Johnson?” he called to his fellow who had been scanning the area to his left flank. But the answer that came was an eerie crackling over his comm. “What is your purpose?” “… What?” Was all that could escape his lips before hellfire engulfed his mobile suit. “Marigbo!?” the other Leo pilot turned as the dutiful soldier’s machine began to overload under the heat. “What is your Quest!?” The pilot hadn’t time to fire before he found jaws clamped onto his machine’s weapon arm, tearing at it… pulling him closer. “What the->!” was all that escaped his lips when the fist caved in the Leo’s cockpit. Two Leos that had been on patrol and rerouted to the flames arrived just in time to see the Leo crumple to the ground. “Base!” one cried, “We’ve got a possible-AHH!” Machinegun fire peppered the mobile suit as the other ducked for cover. It was too late for his friend, but if he could hold out, they could win. Whatever it was, it was just one machine, right? “Possible mobile suit assaulting the base,” he radioed, “No clear visual, but can confirm three Leos down. I’ll try to keep it pinned.” Without waiting for a response, he spun out of the corner and locked his sights on- “… Where did it-?” The man’s sentence was punctuated by a dragon-like appendage tearing through the Leo’s midsection. It too crumpled to the ground as the figure loomed over it. “Burn.” And so it did… |The Zodiac| “…Of course. Who do you take me for? I’ll be in touch, father.” Adelaide Gufford fought to keep her tone neutral, even as she the conversation thankfully ended. The urge to throw her phone against the wall was almost overwhelming. Belka’s current drama had prompted less of a phone call and more of an interrogation about the conflict regarding the perspective of her and her superiors, her father excited by the economic implications even while he demanded her own insights. Each response was examined and dissected, as if judging her worth as the Gufford heir. “Not that there were any other options…” She took a calming breath and counted to ten before stepping out of the bathroom she’d ducked into for a modicum of privacy in a two bedroom suite in a high class hotel on the shore of the Black Sea. She smiled tightly at her companion, tension evident in her posture even as she carefully kept her face blank. “Sorry about that, what were we talking about?” “I had thought we were discussing where to eat, before the… distraction.” Sebastian Storm kept his inference neutral even though he knew his fiancée’s parents were hawkish over their heir. “Do you need a little time to think?” Seb said sympathetically. “Would you mind if we had something delivered? I don’t think I feel like going out anymore.” Adel sighed, taking a seat. A surge of irritation rose through her–at her father for spoiling one of the rare days she had to herself, at Belka for giving him reason to, and the news for going in circles like usual, over-analyzing the scant information available just to keep talking. “Exactly what I was thinking,” Seb said as he walked around behind Adel’s chair. A moment later and he had his phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder and was ordering food in as he ran his fingers through Adel’s loose platinum blonde hair, getting ready to braid it for her. “Yes yes, just charge it. 50% gratuity whatever it happens to be, here are the numbers,” Seb said as his practiced hands began to weave Adel’s hair into the braids she preferred to wear. Adel said nothing for a time, letting Seb work while she felt some of the stress bleeding away. Seb… he was her fiancé, albeit one her family had chosen for her. The ties between the Guffords and Storms were important, especially now after they’d been passed over for the Taurus contract. That particular blow to his pride was part of why her father was watching the Belkan unrest so closely. “…He thinks we might be looking at something big here, a ‘prime economic opportunity’ for the organization.” She fished in her pockets for a piece of chocolate, belatedly realizing she hadn’t grabbed any before the phone call derailed her. Seb snorted at the words “prime opportunity” as Adel squirmed in her chair, looking for the candy. A moment later and he was dangling a quality chocolate bar in front of her. “Now I’m not one to say this normally, but don’t ruin your appetite with this,” he said. “This is your fault to begin with.” She retorted without any heat. Seb’s sweet tooth was why she’d started carrying a candy stash with her, but in retrospect she supposed it was inevitable she’d indulge as well. Adel took a modest bite from the chocolate bar as she mulled over the day. “Recession, political upheaval, and a potent military. Really, it’s more a surprise it took this long for Belka to implode.” “Belka,” Seb spat the word with some distaste. “A nation of ‘Knights’ who act in the most barbaric fashion. Mmm…” Seb finished his job and secured the braid tightly with a hair tie before he reached forward and snapped a piece of chocolate off for himself. “Crude really,” he said with a mouthful and a smile. “Hm. And no matter who wins this it is the populace that suffers, right?” Adel flashed him a smile, knowing where his thoughts usually led. “A shame we cannot simply step in and eliminate the troublemakers.” Seb’s expression darkened even as he swallowed one of his favorite sweets. “Yes, it’s always the common folk who suffer most.” Seb finally said after a moment of deliberation. “It’s always fine for us to squabble amid ourselves but when it spills out it only hurts those who can afford it least. Perhaps I should see if any countries neighboring Belka could use some Leos…” Seb mused. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Treize had something in mind already.” Adel responded with a sympathetic shrug. She admired this side of Seb, as much as she pitied it. Seb just sighed, unaware of the depth of his fiancée’s thoughts. “Treize probably saw this coming a while ago; he has that talent. There’s probably plans laid upon plans, none he shares with anyone. Even that aide of his. We’ll likely find out when it’s time to act though.” He stepped out from behind his fiancée and walked over to the dining table in the next room and began setting places for the pasta that room service would bring to the suite. Adel didn’t respond, merely watching him go. Despite what she’d said, she hardly expected the Foundation to take any steps to diffuse conflict. Where was the profit in that? More likely they were providing the arms and ammunition being used in Belka at this very moment. Maybe she was too cynical… or maybe Seb was too optimistic. The world as she saw it was cruel, and only those with the privilege of the “right" blood in their veins like them were lucky enough to be able to stand above it all. “I think I hear the cart in the hallway.” “Ah, I’ll get the door. Have a seat,” Seb invited as he strode over to the door to greet the hotel staff. A few moments, and a few more bills lighter, Seb was wheeling a cart to the table with some of Adel’s favorite foods. “Bon appetit,” he said with a grin. “You always spoil me.” Adel retorted, as she rose from her seat to reach the cart and begin graciously filling her plate. “It’s not spoiling when someone deserves a reward for courage under fire,” Seb said as he sat himself down, placed a napkin in his lap, and dove into the linguine he had ordered for himself. She waited for Seb to be seated before beginning her meal. “I had forgotten to tell you, I was scolded by the engineering team again.” “Ah, so what did you break this time? May I hazard a guess it was the beam saber?” Seb asked with a cheeky grin. “Hmmph. They tell me my Leo’s wrist and manipulators are badly stressed–again. I’m ‘too rough’ in my handling.” Adel grumbled around her pasta. “It was probably that last riposte if I had to guess, I felt that impact. The machine can’t keep up with me, I’d argue.” “Hmph, if the machine can’t handle you then perhaps I ought to have my team look at your Leo. They relish a challenge instead of complain about it,” Seb said with a bit of haughtiness. “I may take you up on that. Still, I’m curious to see what the Taurus will be capable of.” Adel mused. “I almost want to hate that machine,” Seb said, speaking of the Taurus. It had been a large blow to his family to not gain the rights to produce it. “But despite its… uninteresting armaments, it’s a fine piece of engineering. Would have been even finer in the right hands making it.” “Let’s hope those who did were at least enough. The stories about PLANT’s Mobile Suits certainly set the bar high,” Adel said. Seb waved his hands dismissively of the PLANT weapon. “The Djinn or Gin and Tonic or whatever it is they have is just a burdened pig. Unless it really does perform as well as our Leos do then we still have a mobility advantage, and I hear they don’t even have beam weapons, just big clumsy swords and machine guns.” Then he caught himself, “That said, until I gain the chance to examine or fight one myself there’s no telling what they’ve cooked up. One shouldn’t be dismissive of machines due to their size… Too many strange things in this world.” “For something that heavy, have you heard the weeds are powering them with batteries of all things?” Adele chimed in. “Yes, they might as well be children’s toys.” Seb said with a bit of haughtiness. “They lack the resources to produce beam weapons on their machines, proper reactors to power them, and they can’t even keep the weight down. It’s difficult to believe the claims we’re hearing that these things really do perform as well as our Leos and can defeat them. “That said, those people in the PLANTs are… odd. The weeds are something else. I’m… I’m not sure what to think of them.” “It feels like…cheating, for lack of a better word, for the weeds to have been designed to be better than everyone else.” Adel spoke softly, after several moments of silence. “Still, it’s not as if they asked to be born that way. Their achievements might not be entirely based on their own merit, but they’re just trying to live like any other human being.” “Well yes, it doesn’t matter what raw talent one has if they lack the drive to achieve. That’s why the Weeds will be doomed to be regular humans. That will to be great is something more than genetic.” Seb mused. “Still not very sporting for them to stack the decks in their favor… It’s… unnatural.” “It does seem wasteful to use genetic engineering to ensure your offspring have the eye color of your choice, rather than saving it for health problems.” Adel agreed. She wasn’t interested in touching the messy topic of natural versus artificial talent, especially when it could so easily be applied to the matter of “commoner" versus “nobility.” “Well yes, health issues shouldn’t be the cause for whether or not a person succeeds. Look at that one physicist or astronomer or whatever… wheelchair bound and talking through a computer but a mind sharp as your sword. “Everyone ought to have the fair opportunity to distinguish themselves or not.” Seb said with a sense of finality. The largely pleasant dinner atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of Adel’s phone ringing again. She looked at it hesitantly, worried it was her father calling once more. He only calls to yell. By the third ring she was picking the device up and bringing it to her ear. Seb stared at it as intensely as he could, as if he could set it ablaze with his gaze. “Gufford.” She answered and then fell silent, her eyes widening in surprise. “… How many? … One? We’ll leave immediately.” As she hung up she grimly made eye contact with Seb. “There’s an unidentified Mobile Suit attacking the Black Sea Base. It’s winning. We have to go.” “Winning? A single mobile suit?” A surprised Seb said as he stood up, a trail of linguine absently striking his shirt. It wasn’t very noble looking, but he ignored it. “I’ll have the car pulled around immediately,” he said as he began dialing his own phone. |The Quest| Plummeting from the sky after being dropped off from an MS Transport, Seb’s Leo touched down, the flight pack folding back up into its standby mode a moment later, while he surveyed the carnage. The base had been completely annihilated, with great pillars of flame rising from the destroyed MS Transports and the Factory itself. “Awful,” he said, of the fire and the flames. “Who would do this?” “Do we have eyes on a target? Hard to believe only a single unit could do this, but harder still to think they’d linger…” Adel touched down close by, grimly looking out across the facilities. This looked like a terror attack, but one normally didn’t use something as conspicuous as a Mobile Suit for that. The logistics of sneaking a Mobile Suit in and out were simply too great for small rings of malcontents, especially in a move this brazen. His Leo was readied with a dobergun, his preferred choice of weapon, and a sturdy shield besides its beam sabers. “Be careful Adel, whoever did this…” Seb trailed off. Was incredibly foolish, or supremely confident, she thought. “Two more…” There was something different about these two. Not just the flight packs… a dobergun. One of the best conventional weapons. Incredible force, solid accuracy, poor rate of fire, but not a bad trade-off. This one had taste at least. The other carried a machine gun… a good compliment. Versatility was key against an unknown enemy, and the standard Leo load-out was as solid as they came. It was their demeanor that was most intriguing… “They are a team…” the man within his metal coffin uttered, “Skilled. Used to watching each other’s backs…” He snickered before allowing a laugh to echo within his confines. “Could they be what we seek, Bishamon?” The silence answered. “Very well…” Within a spout of flame, something stirred. A faint figure could be made out. Was it the tormentor or an illusion of the eye? “What is your purpose?” “What… is that?” Adel was surprised enough to wonder aloud. She didn’t have a clear view but the vague profile certainly didn’t resemble any Mobile Suit she could recognize. Instinctively she moved up, putting her Leo between Seb and what appeared to be their perpetrator. “Purpose? Taking you in for unprovoked attack on OPEC personnel, or putting you in the ground for it if you fail to surrender.” “Be wary Adel, if this is truly the perpetrator then that machine has unprecedented power,” Seb said cautiously as he held the Dobergun at the ready, not yet aiming it. “Standard maneuvers?” He asked her. “I’ll lead, you follow.” Adel replied, warily watching their foe. “I know… well, knew, these men. Surprise attack or not, they should have been able to drop a single MS. This could get very ugly…“ “As always,” Seb said simply, readying himself. She was brave. She lived up to her mobile suit’s namesake. Fear, caution, but bravery in the face of it. The other perhaps as eager. There was promise; spirit. It was very amusing… and interesting. “Hm, hm, hm, hm, ha, ha, ha, ha!” echoed across the radio, “Of course. But what… is your QUEST!?” As if on command, another fire flared up… then another. And another. And another. Five figures wreathed in fire loomed around the base; watching, waiting. “You stand proud in your gilded machines, but what do you FIGHT for!? “I doubt you’d understand the things I’m fighting for.” Adel replied curtly, “Seb, Maneuver A3.” Her Leo kicked into motion using the pack’s supplemental thrusters, opening fire on the machine in front of her. She wasn’t sure if those new figures were actually enemies or not, but she wasn’t going to just stand still and let the two of them get caged in. “Affirmative,” Seb said with business-like calm, as he drew a bead and fired on the machine. Then with a burst of the thrusters he boosted into the air before aiming and firing again to cover Adel as she closed in. “Then those reasons must run deep…” The voice was almost introspective as gunfire slammed into the flame. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The figure splintered and crumbled until there was nothing left. Had they done it? “That was my favorite tree…” came the voice after a moment, “Frois, I shall avenge you!” From all five points, a barrage of projectiles exploded forth like a menage of shotguns toward the Leos and the base. The projectiles exploded with bombastic brilliance, sending flashes of color all across the area with reverberating booms and rapid-fire cracks. It would’ve looked like a massive celebration were the situation not so dour “What-?” But she didn’t have time to focus on the… fireworks display. Adel twisted the Leo around and protected her cockpit from the worst of it with her shield. “Oh god what,” Seb said as he twisted the Leo midair to avoid the flak, using the shield to absorb what he couldn’t dodge effectively. “Another decoy… Seb, eyes? All this fire must be interfering with my sensors.” From his vantage point above the fire he tried to find the source of the gunfire. “Damn this madman,” He said as he looked. “Standby.” “I think he’s mocking us," Adel muttered, dryly. “The lunatic has appeared to have literally brought massive trees onto the base in order to dupe us,” Seb said after a moment surveying. “What kind of person…” “Wait, I think I might see something…” Seb drew a line on a new target, not one of the trees, and fired. The man in the coffin caught sight of another spark. “This one has fangs…” ran through his mind as the titan confining him leaped into the air. On a dime, the mobile suit’s thrusters ignited, propelling it toward the duo at an alarming speed as joyful explosion upon explosion continued to pepper the battlefield. Through the cracks of thunder and flashes of light in front of his primary camera, Seb caught sight of a white and blue mobile suit with red painted torso armor. What caught him off guard was its ornate head design, with two gleaming green eyes, samurai-style face mask, and gleaming golden V-Fin. The moment he was put off his guard by the appearance of the Mobile Suit, the predator had become prey. “What?!” Adel knew she had to cut it off before it reached her partner. Dropping the machine gun she deftly drew one of her sabers and counter-charged the madman. “This one…” As Adel’s Leo imposed itself, the white mobile suit reached back took hold of the long pole affixed to its back. “Be honored…” the man within let out almost humbly, “You are the first!” Yanking the pole free, he swung it down powerfully as the end flared to life with green energy. “She has something to prove… it’s not simple pride.” “A beam weapon. That narrows down possible manufacturers.” Adel rushed forward into her opponent’s strike, looking for a textbook victory. Her Leo’s right arm was bent just so at the elbow as it held her saber up, looking to parry the polearm and deftly riposte with a thrust into her opponent’s torso. Their weapons met–and her blade was forced aside, the strength difference between their machines suddenly becoming apparent. “… What?!” She gasped in disbelief. “Deft! Expertly aimed!” Having knocked the saber away, the mobile suit swung the same arm into the Leo with an elbow as he pressed the machine’s thrusters with another burst. “Your skill outshines your machine!” he boomed, “I ask again… what is your purpose!?” A dobergun round whipped over the shoulder of the hostile mobile suit, as Seb’s Leo found a shooting position. “Adel get away!” “Agency!” He let out unrestrained, taking note of the missed dobergun shell. Adel absorbed the strike as best she could by turning into the strike with her shield, but her head still bounced off the back of her seat from the impact. She fell back several steps, giving Seb an opening as she regained her footing. “What I fight for is…” She narrowed her eyes. “A world without the nobility." She looked to Seb’s Leo. “…SEB! SHOOT!” The Leo stumbled back, but paired with a perfect partner, the man could see the ploy. It was a ploy he invited, taking a long lurch forward in relentless assault. Aided by the reach of his polearm, he cut upward toward the opposing machine. Seb planted a shot in the path between Adel’s Leo and the madman. “Perfect“ The man cut his maneuver short and brought his shield to bear as the shell struck the shield upon his mobile suit’s arm. He knew the trajectory and allowed his machine to go with the massive force, spinning it around in an almost balletic fashion as the pilot rattled within. “BISHAMON!!!!” As it completed the maneuver, however, the assaulting arm suddenly shot forth toward the offending shooter like the head of a dragon while the shield arm, still bearing a long forgotten soldier’s machine gun, fired in the general direction of the stumbling Leo. “Holy-” Seb cut himself off as he twisted, allowing the dragon head to crash into his shield and crush it. A moment later and he had cut the shield free of himself and spun away from the extended arm. He cut altitude and skimmed along the ground before taking aim again, waiting for a moment when Adel was clear to fire. Adel wasted no time, charging in with her left shoulder forward so the shield would catch the bulk of the machine gun fire. Her usual style of finesse wasn’t going to work, not when her opponent could simply batter her attacks aside with brute force, and this MS was catching them off-guard too frequently with its surprises. Any one instant could be fatal. Assuming Seb could handle himself, she took her saber in a two-handed grip and swung the blade upward, hoping to drawing his attention back toward her. Tearing the shield free, the man saw the other Leo coming in for the kill. He yanked his machine’s arm back as he launched the mobile suit into an evasive maneuver. In any normal machine, he would have been dead… Adel grit her teeth as the enemy suit evaded her attack. “This damn Leo’s too slow!” Landing, fire spewed from the mobile suit’s arm, igniting the ground as he spread it in a wide arc. As the flames spread, Adel quickly pulled back to avoid the spreading firestorm and any explosions it might set off, she glared at the retreating machine. “You both fight for something strong,’” he stated rather straightforwardly, “But you’re not quite in sync.” He continued retreating as the fire continued to spread. It was time. Perhaps they would not understand now… but it was time. “I fight to dissolve all borders,” he began, “And the righteous and strong shall reclaim the world for the weak.” A sudden surge sent the flames even higher. “Commoner and noble will share a common purpose… for the unification of this world!” A bouquet of bombs punctuated his proclamation. “MY NAME IS NOBUNAGA!” he declared, grabbing hold of something with his mobile suit, “AND THIS IS MY QUEST!!!” Lifting the fallen Leo with his machine’s right arm, he flung the fallen husk toward the duo and allowed it to explode as he retreated from the battlefield. Adel threw her machine backwards to avoid the exploding husk thrown their way, losing sight of the target completely in the process. “Damn it.” Giving up on tracking him, she fell back to regroup with her partner. “Seb, I think we lost.” “Not to put too fine a point on it,” Seb said to Adel as he joined her. “But I think it should be noted that we probably barely survived.” “I got the feeling.” Adel was looking at the fingers of her Leo’s right hand. The bent, twisted fingers from the force of that first exchange. Power, speed, armor, and beam weaponry–that machine even put the stories out of PLANT to shame. But it certainly wasn’t a GINN, and it didn’t resemble anything they knew was in operation anywhere else on the planet. So… what was it? “I doubt he left anyone alive but we should do a sweep for survivors just in case. Then the…organization needs to be notified, if they haven’t already heard. Treize will want to know about this.” She sighed, “What a goddamn disaster.” “I’ll sweep left. Keep your camera recording… Treize will want as much detail as he can get,” Seb advised as he began to scan for survivors. “Don’t stray too far, I can’t have you dying on me now.” Adel replied in an attempt at levity, as she swept right. Things looked bad–real bad. This could easily be construed as an act of war, if only they could identify a country to blame. And at a time like this, with Belka unstable… Then there were the ravings of the pilot if they could be taken as anything useful. “A world with no borders, huh?” = = = Gundams are on Earth. |
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| Liger MKII | Jan 15 2018, 09:42 AM Post #3 |
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Not amused.
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And here we go, let's go check out what all this Belkan hullabaloo is about. = = = March 24, 1995 Dinsmark Air Base Dinsmark, Belka |The Lightning Countess| Lieutenant Colonel Dietrich Kellerman was a living legend. Back in the days of his youth, he single-handedly turned the tide of Belka’s war of conquest with its neighbor, Recta. The feat earned him many titles, “The Hero of Mainz,” “The Silver Eagle,” and (which he preferred the most) “Boss.” That was over twenty years ago, and since then he has quietly enjoyed the quiet, if hardship-strained peace that followed. Nowadays, or at least for the last five years or so, he’d been training the next generation of Belkan pilots to take to the air in defense of its homeland. That was his intention, at least. Now, however, it appeared that like in his youth the skills he honed would be used for a far more terrible purpose. Belka was about to go to war with itself. The turmoil, the hardship... it was all coming to a head. War against other nations was already awful business, but a war with your own? That was an entirely different horror. The iron-fisted nationalism spewed by their leader, blaming everyone but Belka itself for its problems, had finally worn thin the patience of good men desperate to feed their starving families. Kellerman wasn’t one of those men. He relinquished the right to be a good person when he became The Hero of Mainz, nor did he have to worry about a family to feed. A man married to his work, he was a father to the pilots who came to his school and learned to soar with the eagles. Yet he came to the airbase to see the people he could consider family, and hopefully inspire some kind of restraint. The last thing he would ever want is for his children to turn their weapons upon each other. “Lieutenant Colonel!” An officer in the lobby of the posh building that was the officer’s barracks said in surprise when he saw Kellerman approach, before saluting. “W-what brings you here...? Have you joined...?” “No, I’ve come to see one of my star pupils,” Kellerman replied, “Is Ms. Lightning Bolt still here, or has she gone up?” The soldier shook his head. “None of the pilots have deployed yet, we’re still waiting for our orders... the base is still under lock down. Technically... no one is supposed to even see them.” “You’ll make an exception for an old man like me, then?” Kellerman asked gamely. The soldier recoiled, as if insulted by the very idea of denying him. “Sir, I wouldn’t... please go on ahead. I’ll ring her and let her know you’re visiting.” “Thank you, lad,” Kellerman said before he walked past. Watching the older man go, and feeling as one would when he’d just seen his childhood hero, the young officer quickly paged the room of one Zechs Merquise. @@@@@ A young woman stepped from the shower room of her private quarters, naked but for the towel that wrapped around the locks of her long platinum blonde hair. With the grace of a dancer, she walked across the room with barely a sound, picking up two small suitcases along the way and placing them upon the bed. “Whatever happens, blood will flow freely today,” she thought, opening up the first case to reveal an assortment of expertly crafted masks and a couple helmets, “and I should be dressed appropriately for the occasion.” She picked up a gold mask and looked it over, running a finger down its pointed beak-like nose. Then, she put it down and picked up a polished white mask that looked like folded paper with fins on each side like sideburns and one that went up to cover part of the forehead. “Ah. This one will do nicely,” she thought, her crimson eyes staring into the mask’s blue lenses, “Murderous intent with the passion of a chef.” Affixing the mask to her face, Zechs Merquise was ready for what the day would bring… well, almost ready. She still had to open the other suitcase and put some clothes on. Dressing in a white pilot’s jumpsuit with red accents, Zechs continued through her usual routine while waiting on standby. She occupied herself by reading through a history book while taking notes in a leatherbound journal that was packed with scraps of paper and news clippings. The TV was on and tuned to the news with its volume on low, providing a bit of background noise. There was the slim chance that something other than circular assumptions would turn up, but the young woman was very doubtful that it would happen. The phone then began to ring, with a tone signifying that it was an internal call. “This is Lightning,” she spoke, pausing to listen to the message from the officer at reception, “The Boss is here? If you would please, send him at his convenience. Thank you very much.” A few moments later, Lieutenant Colonel Kellerman stood before the door with hat in hand, and reached up to knock firmly and with authority. After three raps against the wood he called out. “Zechs, it’s me,” he said, “Permission to enter.” With the click of the lock, Zechs opened the door. “Permission granted,” she replied, saluting and then offering a handshake, “It’s good to see you, Boss. Please, come in.” “It’s good to see you as well, Zechs,” Kellerman said as he walked in and made sure the door was closed. Entering the personal quarters he looked around and nodded. Stark and sparse, his student still chose to travel light in all things. “Or rather, I wish I could say that. I’ve come all the way here because of the sad state of affairs.” He removed his wool cap, revealing a head balding from the stress and rigors of his life. “Please sir, take a seat,” Zechs said, gesturing at the single chair in the room. She then took a seat on the edge of the bed and glanced at the TV. For a moment, aside from the low speech coming from the news broadcast, there was silence. “What’s happened?” He took his seat and looked down at his hat. “Major General Reinhard Dahl, the man who’s behind all of this chaos... he came to me at my school, and asked me to come be a leader in it. He asked me to encourage my students to turn everything I taught them onto their own countrymen, onto their classmates.” His voice trembled with an anger unlike the force he reserved for shaping his students up. There was a real and virulent fury in his words. “I came here to check on you, to find out what my students who’ve long flown the nest were going to do. Dahl’s ready to try to overthrow this government, but this government is hungry to do just as evil.” Another long silence followed, as Zechs processed that. She took a deep breath, and glanced at the history and notebooks at her side. “Civil wars, one could say all wars, are caused by a clash of ideals and the inability to properly communicate and come to terms between them. Major Prime Minister Wald isn’t completely wrong in wanting to strengthen Belka and I believe that General Dahl does agree with him. However, they both are saddled with the implications of putting aside their own goals to compromise. Rald has barely held this country together with his populist fervor, and Dahl can only act in the best interests of his soldiers.” Kellerman smiled ever slightly at Zechs’ response. “Well spoken, like a true woman of honor. You’re wasted upon this country, you know. You could be doing so much more with your skills in the sky and here on the ground. “I wouldn’t be the person I am today without the opportunities that this country gave to me,” Zechs countered, “And until such a time when I have repaid that debt, Belka has my loyalty.” She answered Kellerman nodded. “So whose hat are you throwing in with this? Rald’s or Dahl’s?” “If I had the power, I wouldn’t need to pick a side. I would use my sword and shear through the fog of lies and distortions so that the two men can have their war on the discussion table over a hot pot of coffee,” she replied with the tone of a dreamer before shifting to a more serious demeanor, “However, I don’t have the power, nor do I have a choice. Rald is the leader of this country, this base ultimately falls under his command, and I am a link in that chain of command.” Hearing something about a status update, Zechs paused and glanced at the TV, but it ended up being nothing. “With my options limited as such, what I will do is what I do best: I will strike hard and fast into the heart of this rebellion and bring a swift end to limit the bloodshed. I’ve already put the request in and Intel is working on determining the strike location.” Kellerman nodded again. “That is ultimately the right choice. We are the defenders of Belka and its stability, and for all the intentions of those seeking change, we must protect the people who make up this country and the peace they desire.” He merely hoped that the choice was the right one, in the face of the nationalist fervor of Rald’s that incited this defiance. There was then another knock at the door, sharp loud. A quick series of raps that almost sounded like a tune. “Hey, Miss Lightning Bolt, you in there~?” A man’s voice called out in a cheery tone, prompting Kellerman’s skin to crawl and his blood to chill. Zechs turned towards the door. That certainly was not a normal request to enter an officer’s private, though temporary, quarters. “My name is Colonel Zechs Merquise, and I am here,” Zechs cautiously replied, unholstering her sidearm and leaving it on the bed within easy reach of Kellerman. She then got up and walked closer to the door. “There are proper protocols to be followed on this base. May I know who I am speaking to?” The door opened unexpectedly then, revealing a man in a black flight suit with red trim worn under a long gray overcoat. He was a thin, somewhat lanky man, had dirty blonde hair with matching mustache and goatee. There was something off about his friendly demeanor as he waved to the two of them... before he gave a bit of a start. “Well, this is interesting. Kellerman you old dog, what are you doing here?” Kellerman looked to Zechs. “Rank doesn’t matter to this one, Zechs... this is Dominic Zubov, of the Belkan Foreign Legion. 6th Tactical Fighter Squadron of the 13th Night Fighter Division. Schwarze Team.” Zubov recoiled a bit, looking impressed. “Huh! To think that the Boss himself knows my name.” “I make it my business to know of your kind,” Kellerman said, “What are you doing here?” “Fulfilling a request!” Zubov replied as he produced an envelope and offered it to Zechs. “The high command has made its decision to move and we’re doing it tomorrow. Your orders are in here, and you get a chance to let ’em sink in.” Kellerman narrowed his eyes at Zubov, before he looked over towards Zechs. This man’s eagerness and excitement was palpable. He was looking forward to a hunt, something was going on… “Mister Zubov, I must apologize,” Zechs spoke with a disarming tone to ease the building tension in the room, “Though I have not heard of you personally, I have heard of the Schwarze team and the feats they have performed in the skies.” She stepped up and received the envelope, then offered her hand in a sign of peace. “Do you mind if I ask a couple of questions? From one professional to another.” Zubov took Zech’s hand and shook it. “Anything for a fellow expat, what would you like to know?” She slowly ended the handshake. “I locked the door after I let the Boss in.” She then tightened her grip as her tone grew firmer. “You either picked it or have a key. That’s the easy part. The thing that gets me is when or how you turned the lock open. I didn’t notice the telltale click. Would you mind explaining or showing me?” Zubov’s eyes lit maliciously. “Sorry, Colonel but that’s a trade secret. A guy with my job in the glorious Belkan Air Force needs to be able to access anyone anytime without any warning.” “Mister Zubov. With an answer like that, now I don’t know whether to trust you... or have you shot,” Zechs replied with a thin smile that would pair nicely with Zubov’s malicious look. She then ran a finger along the edge of her mask, “But I do understand. I have my own secrets, after all.” “That’s obvious,” Zubov replied, eyeing her mask specifically. “If you would excuse me, I will need some time to look over these and I’m sure you have other deliveries to make,” Zechs said, holding up the envelope in her hand, “It was a pleasure meeting you.” Zubov nodded. “That’s about right. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, Lightning Countess.” He snapped his fingers, pointed at Zechs, and winked. “I’ll be right behind you the whole way.” With that he turned and left out the door, the lock mechanism audibly clicking as it was engaged. Kellerman looked from the door to Zechs, and then looked at the envelope. “It goes without saying that if he is involved with this…“ That not everything was what it seemed. The Belkan Night Fighter Divisions performed very specific duties in the Air Force. Handing out orders was not one of them. Zechs opened the manilla envelope and pulled out the operation summary sheet at the top of the document. She whistled as she looked through it. “The rebellion is much larger than I had ever imagined,” she said, handing the sheet to Kellerman. She then performed the hand signal for “The walls may have ears.” “I’ll have to look over these flight plans carefully. If Intel is correct on this, the Major General will be an extremely difficult target to hit,” she said as she walked over to the desk and started laying out the other pages of the document, “Looks like I did pick the right mask for the occasion.” Kellerman took the documents and read them, he then grew shocked at the orders. He stood still for a long moment, disbelieving what he read, before reading it again. Looking at the other documents included, photos, numbers, and locations... it was all actually real. “An evacuation... so this is the hand that Wald is playing,” Kellerman said bitterly. He shook his head. “If this works, then it works… but… this is nothing short of all out war.” = = = That's not ominous, is it? |
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| Liger MKII | Jan 18 2018, 01:16 PM Post #4 |
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Not amused.
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Let's go somewhere a little more peaceful, shall we? = = = March 24, 1995 Jindai High School Velasquez, Adama |An Ordinary Day| “-and then Keiko saw them kissing out behind the gym yesterday! She even took pictures!” “Omigawd!” “I knew it!” Naomi Horikawa smiled happily, basking in the infectious bubbliness of her classmates as they gossiped. The redhead was a bit conspicuous, in jersey shorts and a t-shirt and toweling off from her morning run while the other girls were already in uniform for class, but it was hardly a new sight in the neighborhood around Jindai High School in Velasquez, Adama. “You going to make it in time, Nao?” one of them asked her. “We’re a little early today but you’ve still have to shower, right?” “Eh, it’s fine,” Naomi replied, pausing to take a swig out of her water bottle and check her pedometer. She’d hit a kilometer, a little short but she’d get the rest going home. “The track club’s not gonna need ‘em so I’ve got enough time to hop in before homeroom. Besides, if Boss and crew actually show up for classes today no one’ll even notice if I was a little sweaty.” The other girls varied between chuckles and groans. “That’s right!” one of them exclaimed after a moment, clapping her hands together, “What’s it like being in the seniors’ classes with the Mazinger team?” “Just for math and science,” Naomi reminded them, all of them freshmen despite her advanced courses. “I’m still in normal classes for all the other stuff. And it’s… usually pretty normal, unless Kouji’s being dragged out for mecha beasts. It’s not like I pilot anything. If they’re down to stuff like the Borot I wouldn’t want to.” “‘Kouji’…?” her friends replied in unison, teasing grins on their faces. Naomi sighed. “Don’t look at me, he’s the one who got tired of ‘Kabuto-sempai’. Besides, he and Sa–Yumi-sempai are a thing; you three know that, right?” “He’s still pretty dreamy,” one replied, the others nodding along. Naomi didn’t get it, but maybe spiky hair and sideburns just weren’t her thing. She briefly wondered how hard they would swoon if he actually got a decent haircut, before something caught the corner of her eye and she spun to try and get a good look at it. The other girls stopped and looked at her. Another spoke up. “… something wrong, Naomi?” Naomi stared hard down the street, her eyes narrowing. She then took a deep breath and shook her head. “… Nah, been imagining guys in suits have been watching me lately. Probably just need to stop watching that X-Files show with Mom before going to bed.” She turned back to her classmates and smiled. “Come on, let’s get to school while we’re still early.” Just the start of an ordinary school morning, like every other. @@@@@ Gwen Cyntaf pulled her bag closer to herself and stifled a yawn as she made her way up the steps of Jindai Municipal High School. With a grumble, she cursed yet another sleepless night. It wasn’t due to a lack of trying, certainly–it was primarily due to the sheer amount of quiet at night. Living as a soldier and then colonial rebel had almost purged her of the concept of how to sleep in such a silent place, to say nothing of how surprising she found it to be so trusted in town as a newcomer. Even though her tumultuous arrival to Earth was already three weeks in the past, she was still having trouble acclimating. Thankfully, faking her way past everyone else wasn’t very difficult. To them, she was just a college graduate who had moved into town and taken up a job as a teacher’s assistant, and nothing more. Gwen was pulled from her thoughts as a student waved to her as they passed one another in the hallway. “Good morning, Ms. Kimble.” She blinked at the name before simply offering a smile and a curt nod of acknowledgement, and couldn’t help but feel a tinge of amusement. It hadn’t been that long since she too would have walked down hallways like this one, albeit as a student. To so quickly experience life on the faculty side however, was just one more oddity among all the others she had endured… Stopping at a particular door, the young brunette drew out a key and entered into the records office. It was still early in the morning, which gave her a small amount of time to access the school’s student database with little interruption. Of course, even amongst all this normality she still had a job to do. Her superior had ordered her to Jindai High School to find out if a Whispered was among the students. The idea would have been stunning in a vacuum–but this was also the school where the pilot of the Mazinger Z super robot and his allies attended. Such a thing was probably the norm for them. Gwen’s face tightened into a frown as she logged into the database. For whatever reason she was dispatched to confirm the existence of a Whispered, she did not know, but the clock on her true mission was ticking, and she needed to get back to that fight. Unfortunately, as she picked through records, she realized she may have cast too wide a net. She attempted again to try and narrow her search parameters, this time by looking at grades, rather than background. Surely, someone who could conjure Black Technology would stand out academically? As she worked, she couldn’t help but wonder how she was expected to deal with this individual once they were finally identified: defend, kill, or observe? It unnerved her that she hadn’t been made clear on what to do yet. A few names had come up in the database. The exact names she’d expected to find: Kouji Kabuto, Sayaka Yumi, Ren Mikihara, Shinji Kazama, Kaname Chidori, Billie Katagiri, Naomi Horikawa, and Meiya Tennouji. A new name surprised her, recently added and set to join the class in the next couple of days, a young man named Sousuke Sagara. His grades were above average almost across the board. Gwen quickly wrote down the names and grades of the best performing students on the small notepad she had been writing on and stuffed it into her bag. The best performing students on the list were Chidori, Katagiri, Yumi, Tennouji, Horikawa, and Kabuto. They were all, academically, in a league of their own, and by her estimates any of them could be a possible Whispered. With great care, she shut down the computer and exited the records room. She made sure to scan the hallway before fully stepping out. The notes she had taken were coded in a very particular way, but having information on her person like this always had her on edge. The paper was at least disposable in a way that couldn’t be traced. She cast a glance to the clock in the room and clicked her tongue. “Time to get to work,” she mumbled idly. Pulling her hair up into a bun, she drew a pair of glasses out of her coat, put them on, and then moved to the door. Listening for passerby, she exited the records room when it was clear, and locked the door behind herself with a sigh. She had her targets. Now she just needed to confirm whether they were human, or more… @@@@@ Naomi whistled happily, trotting along the school’s corridors. Nothing beat a shower after a good run, even if she had been a bit pressed for time and rushed the former to not be late for class. She exchanged greetings and small talk with some familiar faces as she went. It promised to be a peaceful day; mostly due to Dr. Hell’s extended vacation after his minions’ latest failure, but with Sayaka also flying out with her father on what sounded like lab business. That meant Boss would have no one to ‘impress’ and thus was probably going to be more sedate for the seniors’ classes, especially if–what was the folding-fan senior’s name again, Chidori she believed–was keeping that lot straightened out. Naomi spotted Gwen in the halls, and stared uncomprehendingly at her. “Hmm? Do I know her?” Probably an assistant teacher she hadn’t met yet. She’d attended some of Jindai’s math and science classes back in middle school, but Naomi had only been a full-time high school student herself this year. So didn’t know most of the faculty that well. She nodded politely and said “good morning” as she was passing by. Gwen gave Naomi an absent smile in return, before realizing who had just passed her by. This was one of the students on her list to watch, due to recently soaring grades. Could she be the Whispered? She certainly didn’t outwardly seem different… “Ah… Horikawa-chan, isn’t it?” She jogged ahead to get in-step with the younger girl and offered a bright smile. “Oh! Hello,” Naomi replied, a bit confused. “I don’t think we’ve met just yet. I’m Jane Kimble.” She comically fumbled with her bag–nearly dropping it for a moment–before offering a hand. “I’m a teacher’s aide for Hattori-sensei’s math class.” “Guess I stood out more than I thought, even with the Mazinger team and the student council president and Chidori and Graham Aker and… oh wow this school’s weirder than I thought.” Naomi realized internally. Blinking, she tried to get her train of thought back on track and took Gwen’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, uh… Kimble-sensei? Ms. Kimble?” “Er, Ms. Kimble is fine. I don’t know that I’m worthy of a ‘sensei’ just yet,” Gwen stated simply, and her broad smile became sheepish in embarrassment. “So, what can I do for you?” Naomi asked. “Ah, I’ve been searching for some of our best and brightest students, and your name was among them! I was hoping to find volunteer tutors for some of our more… struggling students…” She immediately thought of Boss and bit her lip to keep from frowning. She hadn’t been at Jindai for long, but that kid was trouble. “Mmmm…” Naomi scratched the back of her head, looking thoughtful. “I guess I could try. I’m not that good with stuff that isn’t math or some of the science classes, though.” Gwen asked, putting on an expression of delight at Naomi’s interest. “Do you have a preference between the two subjects?” Internally, she began to assess the young girl. For all intents and purposes, she seemed like an absolutely normal student. “… Track and field?” Naomi admitted sheepishly. “I’ve gotten a lot better at this stuff, but I can’t really say I like either one all that much yet. Do you think they will even listen to the grade-jumping freshman, you think?” “I could make sure you tutor freshman students only, if you think that could be an issue. Have any of the older students been giving you trouble?” Naomi shrugged after a moment lost in thought, “Not really? I mean, there’s Boss, well, being Boss, but he does that around everyone. With all the… uh, characters in the higher grades, and all the things trying to give them problems, I kinda just blend into the background. Like, did you hear about that creepy old headless guy who tried to sneak in as a janitor?” She shuddered. “Not pretty.” All of her cloak and dagger antics came to an abrupt stop and Gwen stopped to look at Naomi with a legitimate expression of confusion on her face. “A headless Janitor…? I hadn’t heard about that before.” “Well, he had a head, it just fell off when I bumped into him,” Naomi clarified. “His body went one way, his head rolled another and then started yelling and swearing in Belkan, I think. I was too busy running away and screaming to tell.” She blinked, before regaining her composure. “Er, but I know what you mean. I’m glad to hear you’re not having any trouble like that, then. Being a freshman is a struggle enough, hm?” Naomi laughed nervously. “Haha, I get the feeling that freshmen at other schools have less, uh… exciting? first years.” Jindai definitely seemed to grow more surreal by the moment, but at least the mission assignment made much more sense as well. To think such an innocuous place could be the gathering point of so much strangeness. The colonial rebel in disguise shook her head and turned her attention back to the gifted young girl before her, glad that they were at least normal. “So! Track & Field, you suppose?” Gwen restated, drawing out her coded notepad again. To the untrained eye, the notes showed simple information regarding class times and scheduling; however, in actuality it was all regarding points of interest per student. From what was written, Naomi’s grade showed she did well athletically. Could that be a clue towards her nature as a Whispered? She continued: “It’s not what I expected, but I’m glad you’re interested in being a tutor. I want to help you excel in any way that I can, so I’ll put it together for you, Horikawa-chan.” Gwen smiled and gave a soft chuckle. “Just between you and I, I don’t blame you for wanting to avoid too much time in math, either. I know that Hattori-Sensei’s teaching methods are…unique, to say the least. But I’ll do my best to keep it engaging for you and all the others.” “You two,” came a clear, cool voice further up the hall from Naomi and Gwen, “will be late if you don’t hurry; the bell should ring shortly.” Half a head taller than Naomi even without her outdoor shoes’ heels, a pretty older student with long hime-cut violet hair that reached to her knees gave the two an imperious stare. Meiya Tennouji folded her arms together in front of her and regarded the odd couple indifferently. “Or have you forgotten you are here for the whole school day now, Horikawa?” Gwen turned her head to look at Meiya, noting the arrival of the other girl with some surprise. She reflexively put a hand to her bag, ready to use it to fight, before catching herself. “Ah! That’s right, isn’t it?” The young woman said, rubbing at the back of her head as she gave a nervous laugh. She promptly offered a light bow in return to the student. Naomi suppressed a groan; even though the two hadn’t spoken much, she didn’t mix well with the Iron Maiden. Meiya made a small bow to Gwen, at least. “Ms. Kimble.” “Good morning, Tennouji. This was my fault–I was just talking with Horikawa-chan about helping out her fellow students as a tutor. Is that something that would interest you too? There are several openings available, if so.” She wasn’t quite sure how this girl had moved in such a way to catch her off guard. It was a point of interest for sure. Gwen briefly glanced at her coded notes, which painted an odd picture of their own. “Unfortunately I shall have to decline,” Meiya replied. “Work keeps me busy after class hours.” Naomi blinked. The girl most everyone thought of as an… eccentric upper-class lady had a job? Meiya looked up as the chimes sounded. “First bell. As I said, you may want to hurry.” “Especially you,” She threw a glance at Naomi. “Aren’t the freshmen’s homerooms upstairs?” “Right, senpai,” she muttered, before checking her wristwatch to avoid her gaze. Had it just been her imagination, or had Meiya glared at her for a split second just then? “We’ll talk more later, Ms. Kimble. See you!” She said before she quickly retreated for the stairs. Gwen looked back to Naomi with a wave and called out: “I’ll get in touch with you later today about it. Good luck to both of you in your classes! I need to hurry along to Math…” The young woman looked to the onrush of students heading to their way and quickly tried to stow her coded notebook bag in her bag, but with the outright din of teenagers and her own distraction, she didn’t notice it fell back out as she quickly headed off… Naomi stopped; she had just reached the stairs before she glanced back noticed the notepad lying on the floor. “Wait isn’t that…? Ms. Kimb-!” Unfortunately, the student teacher had already rounded a corner to her class. “Aaaand she’s gone.” She knelt down to pick it up. “Maybe I should get some running pointers from her, wow.” Meiya gently but firmly pulled the notes out of Naomi’s hand and flipped through them. “What are you-?” Naomi started. “Just confirming its owner,” Meiya lied, skimming a few more pages before closing it. “My class after homeroom is right by the teacher’s she is assisting; I’ll take it to her. Go,” she finished by gesturing at a clock on the wall. Naomi relented, finally jogging off to class. “I’ll leave it to you then, Tennouji-senpai.” Meiya watched her go, then walked on to her homeroom, scanning the notepad through narrowed eyelids. Why refer to schedule data and class times so much for their previous talk? It was setting off warning bells, but she’d have to run the data by headquarters to make sense of it if was some sort of code. Kimble seemed to flag Horikawa down earlier, but from their talk seemed to be feeling the younger girl out, as if the teacher’s aide wasn’t exactly sure what to look for. This was way too subtle for Hell’s minions, and while there were signs of Tekkoryu stirring, they seemed more focused on the thing slumbering underground and its missing creator. Meiya idly remembered her boss’ contacts keeping an eye out for exceptional people, and wondered if they’d all been mistaken for some unknown party’s targets. “How like her to be nothing but problems until the end,” she thought bitterly, glancing back down the direction Naomi vanished from sight. “Masaki Kihara… how I wish you and your ‘legacy’ had never existed.” = = = A Kihara with a legacy? Oh that can't be good. Edited by Liger MKII, Jan 18 2018, 01:16 PM.
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| Liger MKII | Jan 26 2018, 01:43 PM Post #5 |
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Not amused.
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|The Black Wind that courts Death| On the tarmac of Rebel Yell HQ, several large hangars that weren’t razed following its transformation into a civilian facility stood not too far from the terminal-turned-office. Here, away from the family business and the office hijinks, Nier could find peace as he worked on the company equipment. Inside the largest of the hangars, his destination, an array of combat mecha of different types lined the walls. Towards the doors were the smaller machines, the Arm Slaves. Of them were two types: Yuktobania’s round-bodied and frog-like Rk-92 Savage, and their Osean counterparts, the blockier M6 Bushnell. On closer inspection, a discerning eye could see that one of the Savages was actually the much older and less capable Rk-91. Past them were much larger machines, standing at 12 meters tall. They bore a strong shape body-wise to the agile and sleek XM9 Gernsback Arm Slaves, but they were more massive, with obvious increases in armor around the waist and shoulders and back. Multipurpose Agile Tanks, or MATs, as Elizabeth dubbed them. They were Rebel Yell’s in-house project, and the second biggest drain on the company’s finances. Past them were the largest class of mobile mecha in the field to date, and the ones that Nier personally disliked the most: Mobile Suits. In particular there were six OZ-06MS Leos in various states of disrepair. All of the drab green MS were in the process of being torn down for spare parts, because as they were… they were actually too risky to be reused. At the center of the hangar was the reason for such a risk. A white mobile suit adorned in dark armor evocative of the Grim Reaper stood center between the Leos. Unlike the MATs, whose heads were more akin to helmets with visors over facemasks, and the blank television screen faces of the Leo, this MS had an ornately designed head, resembling a samurai helmet from Adamanian culture, with a white faceplate and a red chin-guard. Its most prominent feature was the golden V-fin that rested at the very end of the helmet. This was a very special class of Mobile Suit, named for the material it was constructed from: A Gundam. It’s codename: Deathscythe. “Hey buddy, did I keep you waiting?” Nier asked with pride as he walked up to the Gundam. Deathscythe was a parting gift from the brilliant scientist who took Nier in from the uncaring streets of his space colony. In exchange for the machine, he just had to run a few errands for his benefactor… and arrangement he certainly didn’t mind. Their personal objectives lined up perfectly, after all. He’d been surprised that he’d been able to find a place like Rebel Yell, though. A PMC outfit run by a small family sounded odd enough, but they asked no questions about those errands of his and even helped cover for him when he ran them. On top of that? They also had ties with an important contact he'd been sent down to get in touch with. So many birds were knocked out with one stone the day he signed on, and between having a roof over his head and capable allies, he couldn't really ask for much more. “Let’s get some work done on you, and we’ll go run a few more errands. What do you say?” He asked as he reached the Gundam’s feet. Behind him, Elizabeth and Prelude walked into the hangar. Elizabeth had found a pair of blue cargo shorts, she didn’t know whose they were, and Prelude had offered her the light jacket she wore. The two women hurried to catch up with him, and looked up at the imposing Gundam standing above them. “So what do you need help with?” Elizabeth asked as she looked from the Gundam to Nier. “Just some maintenance on Deathscythe,” Nier replied. “Maintenance on Deathscythe, so that's what you call it now…?” Prelude chimed with a smirk. “Oh, don’t tempt me with innuendo,” Elizabeth cooed. Nier’s flat gaze bored a hole through both women, before he turned it to the Gundam’s knees. “During my last job, the deep salvage one, I sank a lot faster than I thought I would and hit the seafloor pretty hard. I wasn’t worried about it then, but I was down like 1200 meters. I want to make sure the pressure didn’t cause any cracks to the joints.” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Over a kilometer underwater?” She looked from him back up to the Gundam. “What a beast D-Boy is.” Nier sighed. “The worst part was hauling all the scrap I picked up back to shallow water, since our boy Howard doesn’t have deep salvage gear.” He wasn’t going to see that haul for another week, and it sucked. Elizabeth brightened at the prospect of literally putting Deathscythe under the microscope. “I’ll get my fatigue test equipment.” “Sure you wouldn’t rather check out that guy from Adama?” Nier asked as Elizabeth walked over to a tool chest against the wall behind Deathscythe. “Mechanical engineers are a dime a dozen in Adama. Unless it’s Gennosuke Yumi himself, I’m not really going to waste my time,” Elizabeth replied. Prelude agreed with a nod. “I bet you’d even dress up nice for him!” “I’d dress professionally; dressing nice would send a different message,” Elizabeth corrected. Nier let out a snort. “Yeah, a warning.” Elizabeth caught him in a headlock and ground her fist into the top of his head in a noogie. “A warning about what?!” “Is it not obvious?!” Nier yelled back as Prelude laughed. Larry and Euria wandered in, having been drawn by the colorful procession leading from the office to the hangar. Euria regarded the assortment of mecha in the hangar the same way she always did: with extremely mild contempt. She didn’t hate giant robots, but she was a fighter pilot and fighter pilots flew. The thought of being shackled to the ground and traveling less than 200 knots under any given circumstances just made her sleepy. Though that could just be the fatigue from her flight. “Hey you guys,” Larry called to the three. Elizabeth, still holding Nier in place, looked back and waved. “Hey Pixy, Cipher.” Prelude looked back to the two fighter pilots and smiled brightly to Euria. “Hey Cipher! We went shopping for cute underwear, we’re gonna torture Nier with it. Wanna watch?” Euria lit up at the idea. “Yes! I’ll bring my own!” Pixy rolled his eyes and regarded Nier with sympathy as the young man finally broke free Elizabeth. “Speaking of shopping, Nier, if you got some more errands to run let me know.” “I should be fine, far as errands are concerned,” Nier said as he remotely opened the Gundam’s hatch and called down the winch to the cockpit. As soon as it reached him, he grabbed it and hauled himself up to the hatch. “I haven’t even gotten the haul back from my last run.” “How’d you do?” Pixy asked. “I was able to snag some two Cancers and three Pisces this time around,” Nier replied as he reached the cockpit and swung himself in. Pixy was impressed. “Having a couple Pisces would be good for the Southern Cross.” “Well, I hope there’ll be enough to rebuild them. I was a little rough in collecting,” Nier admitted. “Oh Nier, is there anything you do gently?” Prelude chimed in with her hands cupping her cheeks. Nier shouted down at Prelude with a flushed face. “D-damn it, don’t say stuff like that!” “On that innuendo, I’m surprised you guys came straight here,” Pixy then pointed out. “Cipher and I spent all this time bringing Gennosuke Yumi here to speak with the bosses. You could all be a little more excited.” Elizabeth, Prelude, and Nier all stopped what they were doing and stared at him. “Wait, what?” Elizabeth asked. “Professor Yumi himself?” Prelude implored. “Oh, they didn’t know,” Euria realized. Elizabeth looked down at her present attire and her hygienic state. She’d spent all night sweating in her underwear, and right across the way the foremost authority on mechanics, and the man responsible for maintaining the world’s only functioning Super Robot, was here. “Shit, I’m a mess.” She immediately called up to Nier. “Your clothes, give them to me.” Nier recoiled. “Wait, why mine?” “Because yours are clean and I need to take a shower,” Elizabeth explained. Nier rolled his eyes and he began undressing. “Suit yourself. The shirt might be a tight fit because I wasn’t expecting to stuff Double-Ds in it when I got it.” He tossed down both shirt and pants a moment later to Elizabeth, who caught them. “Thank you, Nier. And I’m a 36FF by the way!” Prelude brought her hands to her hips and gave the open cockpit of Deathscythe a withering glare. “You should know this, by now!” Nier, reduced to being completely naked, sat back in his Gundam’s cockpit and heaved a weary sigh. “Maybe I’m too busy appreciating the finer things in life to take the time to measure them, have you considered that?” Both Larry and Euria shared a laugh, as Elizabeth hurried off to shower. Prelude crossed her arms and then called up to Nier. “You think maybe we should start back over to the office? I don’t want to miss anything and Liz will probably want to miss even less. Nick doesn’t like repeating himself at briefings.” “I literally just gave Liz the clothes off my back, what am I supposed to wear over there?!” Nier yelled. “Your normal suit?” Prelude suggested. There was a moment of silence in Deathscythe’s cockpit. “You know, I’ve never worn my normal suit Commando. That might be nice,” he said aloud. “It is,” Larry said, prompting surprised looks at him from both Euria and Prelude. |The Hunt| Inside the meeting room Nick and Helena sat with Dr. Yumi and Sayaka, the former adjusting his glasses before he spoke. “As you are aware, I am the chief custodian of The Photonic Power Laboratory. This work centers mainly on the Photonic Reactor, but there are other simultaneous projects going on under the same roof. These include work on elements such as Thorium and Sakuradite. However, one of the research centers under our aegis is the Saotome Laboratory. They are researching an energy called Getter Rays. It is headed by your client.” Nick, already bored of the lecture, nodded numbly. Helena shot her husband a deadly look and then asked Dr. Yumi. “And this job he has for us is related to that?” Out in the hall, Pixy, Euria, Nier, and Prelude had gathered. “Getter Rays?” Pixy said. “That doesn't sound… safe.” Euria looked to Pixy. “That's nuclear stuff, right?” Nier wasn’t too keen on it either. “Isn't that a little big for us to be messing with…?” Pixy shrugged his shoulder to the question, but it was clearly obvious that messing around with strange power sources troubled him. Prelude was much more brazen. “If only we could mess with Nuclear Power, then we wouldn't need to buy fuel oil from the Erusians.” In the office, Nick glanced towards the door and then shrugged his shoulders. It wasn't much of an issue to have employees spying on the meeting, it meant less repeating himself later at the briefing. Dr. Yumi answered Nick's question then. “Yes, but in an unusual fashion. Doctor Saotome's work on Getter Rays comes in part with a rather startling discovery that we've been keeping a necessary lid on for several years.” “And that is?” Helena asked. “That Getter Rays, though proven harmless to humans in their natural state, were responsible for the destruction of a civilization over sixty-six million years ago.” Helena and Nick both sat up straight at that, with the latter cocking his head a bit in confusion. “… What, people who lived during the time of the dinosaurs?” Helena glanced at the opened suitcase and the money and papers inside. It was real, which meant that the job being asked of them was legit, so… this was now getting weird. “Not people who lived during the time of the dinosaurs, an empire of dinosaurids,” Dr. Yumi went on. “Through his work on Getter Rays, and our research of ruins near Adama… we discovered such an ancient civilization and its destruction due to bombardment from Getter Rays. More than that, however… we have evidence that remnants of it may still exist, sleeping deep beneath the Earth where Getter Rays cannot reach.” Helena interlaced her fingers, and leaned forward. “Considering what you are offering us for this job, I would be absolutely stupid to turn it down. However… I have a few reservations, such as this being the most insane thing I've ever heard.” Nick shrugged his shoulders. “On the other hand though,” he observed, “This is the leading authority on insane things. He is at war with a man using atomic powered killer robots trying to take over the world, after all.” Helena nodded. “Yes, which is why I'm curious about your colleague's intentions.” “I shall address that,” Dr. Yumi said, “A large creature has been sighted in the waters near Ar… Aurelia.” Helena narrowed her eyes, she had caught what he had just prevented himself from saying, but let him slide because he corrected himself. “What kind of creature?” “That is what remains to be seen, and your job in effect. This creature may be proof of this Dinosaur Empire's reappearance, and my colleague wants to make sure that it is not.” Dr. Yumi went on to explain. “I would send Mazinger Z to explore this area, but it is close to Britannian territory and moreover outside of the range that Mazinger Z is legally allowed to operate.” “Hence you want to hire us to have a look,” Helena said, “And since we don't care for Britannia or their rules, we'll gladly sail in their waters while flipping them the bird.” “To put it bluntly, yes,” Dr. Yumi replied. Helena looked at the suitcase and then back to him as she spoke. “Given that you've literally taken care of our operating costs for the next year? I cannot in good conscience say no to this job.” Outside the door, Pixy was a mix of things, from disbelieving at this insane story, to in outright shock that these Adamanians were so serious about this that they'd pay for a year of Rebel Yell's operations. Elizabeth arrived, her hair still wet from her hasty shower. “What was that about operation costs for the next year…?” “Photon Labs just offered to cover our overhead if we do this job for them,” Pixy revealed. “H-holy shit,” Elizabeth murmured. Nier hummed, folding his arms. “So… go to a place and check out the local wildlife? That doesn't sound all that bad–especially given we get to piss in Britannia's cereal while doing it. He looked to Prelude. Wearing a smile as he imagined what this kind of cash would do for their crazy schemes. “For the cash they're paying us, I expected more.” Lu grinned, stroking her chin. “The money alone makes it exciting, think of all the things I could make with that money…” She had almost finished perfecting her extras. Well, mainly the one that could help her in her trade. “Thank you,” Dr. Yumi said, “On that note… I have my own job inside of this job. It’s in the mission brief, but I want to explain it outright now.” “Go on,” Helena said. “Just remember that side-missions cost extra.” “Yes, and I am willing to make a trade to see it done,” Dr. Yumi explained. “Near the area that the large creature was sighted, there is an island strictly controlled by the Britannian military. It is an island that has not existed on any map since the Britannians invaded Aurelia in the 60s.” “Okay?” Nick asked. “This job I ask of you is to infiltrate this island and take pictures of everything you see. Exterior is fine, but if you can enter the facility itself then you receive an additional bonus.” Helena didn’t like the sound of that. “Such a job would mean ensuring there was no way to trail back to us.” Which meant no witnesses, period. “This was the reason I came to you and no one else. You wouldn't have any qualms in silencing the Britannians.” Dr. Yumi replied. And like that, this job went black. “Dibs on not being the photo recon unit, anyone else can do that… I don't have much patience for just taking photos,” Pixy griped at Euria. Elizabeth hummed. “I'll come along and do the photo taking, I've been meaning to test out a few things for the MAT program.” Pixy hummed. “You, out in the field? That'll be a sight.” Nick was a little more excited about the idea. “Oh, all right then, you have yourselves a deal!” Helena agreed as she read the terms of the deal and saw what Dr. Yumi was prepared to trade to Rebel Yell. This was exceedingly generous of him… and yet she was fairly certain why he would make such a trade. “We'll do it, but we'll have to do it quickly.” She pointed at the old map that Dr. Yumi had provided them, displaying the formerly unmarked island and then produced the satellite photo produced just days ago for comparison. The island itself had been digitally removed. She then pointed at a mass of clouds to the northeast of the island. “This tropical storm track is sending it right over the island within 48 hours. We'll need a high speed transport and provisions to transport a squad of Arm Slaves.” She then tapped out a few more thing. “We'll also need tanker support. The money should cover that easily.” Helena then turned to Nick. “Contact Hélène and tell her to make flank speed for Aurelia.” Nick smiled. “She just left refit in Shamoon, so she'll be in that vicinity within a day. What luck.” “What luck indeed.” Helena then called to the door. “All right you little eavesdroppers! I hope you were all paying close attention!” One by one, Pixy, Euria, Nier, Prelude, and Elizabeth filed into the room. “S’up, boss?” Nier asked. “So what’s on the menu exactly?” Euria asked. “Fishbeds? It’s been so long since I’ve gotten into a fight and I’d like a warm-up.” “It's a little more complicated than that, but on the bright side we'll likely be taking on Britannians,” Helena replied, “As you all probably already heard.” Pixy nodded stiffly, and looked over towards Dr. Yumi and his daughter. Sayaka seemed a bit concerned about all the talk regarding fighting, but on the other hand she was here for this much so she seemed on the level at least. “Right now these are just the basics, but we're going to be performing a survey of an off-charted island off the coast of Aurelia,” Helena explained, “We're going to need pure top cover from Cipher and Pixy for this mission. Any surveying will be done on foot.” Helena then looked over at Nier. “I know it's not for its intended purpose, but I want D-Boy on point for this one. Its stealth and jamming features will allow us to move in undetected and keep them from squawking for help from the mainland.” “I just need some quick preventative maintenance and we’ll be good to go,” Nier replied. Nick then cut in. “This is one of those operations where we will want no blowback to us, but we won't be able to rely on stealth throughout it. I'm warning you now… we're going to be killing a lot of people and there's no way to avoid it.” Elizabeth seemed to brighten at that. “Well, before I figured I'd go out of curiosity, but if there will be blood then I'm all in. I definitely wanna try some stuff out for our project.” Nier understood that much perfectly. “So, we assume everyone we meet there is an enemy and dispatch them? Nothing else beyond taking pictures outside and in?” Pixy looked towards Sayaka, and saw that she blanched a bit at this. Dr. Yumi, however, regarded it grimly as a necessity. How interesting, these Adamanians were. “That’s exactly right,” Nick said to Nier, “I’ll be coming along too, and we’re calling in Anya to help with the wet-work.” Euria brightened. “You’re coming? And Anya too?! Yay!” “When you want a job done right, you do it yourself,” Nick said, before quickly adding, “Not that I think any of you can't do it… I just want to be thorough in this one.” Dr. Yumi nodded. “Thank you for taking this job.” “No problem, the payment is agreed upon… except for the trade-” “Yes, quite. Send me the coordinates of your ship and I will send it there in due time,” Dr. Yumi replied. “I… no… the nation of Adama is extremely grateful for your assistance.” Nick nodded and rose from his seat. He looked to Helena. “Honey, I'll leave the easy work to you.” He then looked to Pixy and Euria. “Sorry Pixy, but we gotta black your plane.” Pixy grimaced, but conceded with a nod. Helena got up. “Dr. Yumi, Sayaka, if you would join me?” She led the two guests out of the room, and gave a glance back at her pilots and researchers, before continuing out of the door. Nick looked to his team, and he reached up to undo the ponytail his hair was done neatly in. Pulling it loose, he shook it out into an unruly black mane and his eyes gained a murderous glint. “Let's get started, guys.” He pulled out a cell phone. “But first, a phone call.” |The Hunters| Club Desperado, located in the entertainment district of Olofat, the capital of the Orb Union, was a Host Club. A place where the hard working women (and men, there was no discriminating here!) of Orb could relax and have their troubles taken away by a bevy of handsome young men whose sole job was to serve and entertain until their wallets were empty. This club was run by a Yuktobanian woman named Anya Rozhdestvensky, a woman who in any other country would be seen as the madame at the head of an illegal prostitution ring. Here in Orb, she was the madame in charge of a legal prostitution ring. All of her paperwork was signed, her employees followed the national laws and standards, and her taxes were paid, thank you very much. While this was one of many such businesses she ran across Orb, this one was her personal favorite. A paradise of pretty boys to keep the blonde-haired, gray-eyed woman of late 30s age contented and entertained was a far cry from her days in the trenches of Yuktobania, where countries such as Kaluga and Romny needed to be shown their places. Here, Anya could live carelessly–although this early in the day there wasn't much hosting going on. And with most of the ladies (and gentlemen, again no discrimination!) at work, all she could do was while away the minutes and wait to open the doors for the world weary. Behind the bar of the empty club, Anya sat on a bar stool, wearing a long skirt and a thin long-sleeve shirt, as she stared up at the television. Apparently there was some finally noteworthy news coming from Belka. “… This has just come in from our affiliates in Dinsmark,” the pretty anchorwoman spoke, “The Belkan government has ordered a full-scale evacuation of forces loyal to the Belkan Government, in order to allow the forces loyal to General Dahl to enter Dinsmark to begin negotiations to bring the crisis to the end.” Anya took a sip of her coffee. “Are the Belkans stupid?” Her phone rang, and she slipped from her stool to pick it up. “Hello, this is Anya.” “Huh, I was hoping to get your answering machine,” Nick said. Anya's eyes brightened. “Oh, hello darling. What are you going to trouble me with today?” “I'm going on a trip with the kids, and Mom thought it'd be keen to take you with me, since you scare them into being good,” Nick replied. Anya hummed, and then looked at the news again. “… Already, Sapin, Fato, and Osea–interested in the region's stability–have reportedly agreed to housing Belkan aircraft. The regions who were granted independence from Belka: Gebet, and Ratio, have similarly opened their air bases to take in Belkan units until such a time that the crisis has ended. Only Utsio has ordered air space closed to Belkan aircraft, and even warned that it will shoot down any aircraft that cross into its territory…” Anya shrugged her shoulders. It wasn't like anything interesting was going to be happening on the news today or tomorrow. “Sure, I'll hop a flight over to Ono and get set up. What's the weather going to be like?” “It's going to rain,” Nick replied. Anya looked at her handset, and then hummed through her tightened lips. “… I’ll bring my boots. This is going to be an interesting trip, isn't it?” Nick chuckled. “It's going to be a regular safari, I reckon.” |Mr. Crowley| In Downtown Olofat, seated at a table of a rooftop café, a tall and handsome blue-eyed and dark-haired young man with a slender frame and a fair skin, watched the giant television across the busy street from the café for a few moments as the news revealed the surprising turn of events in Belka. Alistair Faust Crowley slowly shook his head, before leaving a tip for his server and leaving the café. The young man hit the street and began heading for the building where the exhibition of his works was to be held this night, turning heads as he went. It was hard not for him to stand out in such a crowd. He wore a black button down shirt and matching trousers, but with it an elaborate cowl that seemed to unwind into a cape and an ornate broad hat. He wore a silver necklace and bracelet as well, bearing the symbol of his family–a unicursal hexagram. However, what actually drew the most attention was that he appeared to be having a silent, one-sided conversation. With someone that only the young artist could hear. “There are so many people here,” he thought, “There are more people in this city than in all of Glubina.” The young man nodded. “It is quieter, though, yes. They are more interested here in Science and Technology, rather than the stories of the old country.” For that reason, it surprised him he had been invited to hold an exhibition here in the Orb Union, it would have expected it more from Britannia. “Still it was a good opportunity to see a different place…” Alistair finally reached for the exhibition building, showing his ID card to the security, even if his appearance was peculiar enough for him to have little need of doing that. With a polite bow of his head as a greeting, he went past the guard post and moved to the area where his paintings had been placed, giving them a last look to see if everything had been put in place properly. It was a collection of dark themed sceneries from Estovakia, the places where he grew up, more specifically. There were also a few paintings inspired by Yuktobanian lore, like the one of a glade with a chicken-legged hut within, or the birds sheathed in flames. There was also one of a knight in draconic armor, fighting against a pack of demonic-like wolves… “Self-referential, I know all too well…” He thought as he looked at the painting. He looked up at the brim of his hat, as he thought about the news. "I wonder if the next one's theme should be the end of the world…" He whispered to himself. A small morning crowd at the exhibition had come through. Oseans mostly, though a few of them looked like they were from other places, like Britannia and Adama. One child, an Adamanian girl, looked at the picture of the black-draped knight battling the demonic beasts, and gazed in wonder at it before she pulled out a red story book and looked at its cover. Behind her, another Adamanian girl, a teenager who looked like a relative, trailed back to look as well. "Whoa Kei look, it’s the demon from the North Sea," the older girl said. The younger girl nodded. "Razgriz." It pulled Alistair from his thoughts and he looked over. In the back of his head he could feel a heat, indignation. It wasn’t his; it amused him. “It’s no surprise, he has a book after all.” The heat turned into a seething impudence. “Though, the two of you have a lot in common. I’d take the compliment.” Alistair cast a last glance to the two Adamanian girls and his own painting, despite their misjudging the subject he was still content with their interest. After all, which artist wouldn't be? Within his mind there was silence, so the painter took this rare moment of peace to walk amongst the other patrons so to observe their reactions. As his thoughts drifted, Alistair gave a few thoughts to his next course of actions, mainly to the ones related to the artistic department. The booklet in the young girl's hands wasn't unknown to him–he actually quite appreciated both the artistic style and the narrative, and the idea itself wasn't as bad. To chronicle some piece of myths, from his own homeland maybe, with some works of paintings. Rather than isolated scenes, like he had painted until now. It felt an interesting project to follow… Though, what myth to chronicle? There were so many stories to tell through his art. So many legends- It came like a newborn's wail, a screeching sound that pierced the silence and let the stillness move on. Then it was a deafening roar, a chorus of thousands of souls suffering in agony. The wailing and screeching, unlike anything mortal ears should experience, echoed in his head and nearly knocked him from his feet. It had been asleep. Now they were awake. Only hunger ruled it now. In the dark, there was no food. Only cold, and pressure. The hunger was worse. The emptiness gnawed at them. No. This was too much. Hunt. Kill. Feed. Survive. These processes. What were they? It hated these things. Yet they needed to do them. All it sought was to be. They were. But to be was not enough. Perpetuate. Endure. Thrive. Grow. Yes. It would be those things. [rainbow]They would become all of them.[/rainbow] Alistair stopped in his step, no more interested in what was happening around him, his expression even more distant and blank. It was like colors had been drawn away from the world, sounds had dampened, while time had been slowed to the pace of eternity. The young painter knew this feeling, he knew it too well and he knew what was going to happen next. Time resumed his course, the world regained his colors, and Alistair stood still in the middle of the chattering crowd. He casted a last glance to the mistaken painting, then turned his back to the crowd and the exhibition and silently headed for the exit. The accursed beasts were soon to appear, and he wanted to be ready for the battle to come. Inside his mind, and heart, he could feel a growing excitement. The Hunt was to be joined. Edited by Liger MKII, Jan 26 2018, 01:44 PM.
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11:30 AM Jul 11