Mecha RP: Legend of M

[Pacificus]

@Tierax @OGTomahawk
"Yeah, you're right, Clayton. But what else could we do? I'm sure a Rebel won't just walk up to one of our cells and let us out to have a friendly chat we can take advantage of." He says, half-sarcastically. "The odds of that are fifty to one at this point."

Clayton didn't have a plan of his own. Not a completely fleshed out one. But he was still right. They would never make it.


"Actually, that's exactly what's going to happen. More-or-less. These rebels are smart. They will interrogate us. Not all at the same time, but we will eventually be removed from our cells. That is when the opportunity presents itself." Clayton shifted around a little. "I would go further, but I don't want to spill all the beans. Just know that this ship is still partly under construction. There will be...things, lying around for us to take advantage of. Just be ready when the time comes."


Clayton was mostly talking hypothetically. For all he knew the rebels could just scuttle the ship with them on it. He wouldn't admit it, and he certaintly wouldn't show it, but he was worried.

 

[Tierax]

Roux sat back silently and listened to the other two as he tried to calm himself...


The pounding in his head when he woke seemed to have come back to his attention with a vengeance.


He kept trying to break his wrist bindings on the sink while he listened, slowly they were showing some wear but it was a long ways off.


-still under construction huh? Is that why the fruit-suit pilot had so many tools? He seemed independent by his attitude towards the rebellion, and if independents are on board with free reign...-


Roux paused that thought and walked back to the cell door.


"Hey, you two. That guy we can all safely assume was Independent right? If he has free reign to walk about does that mean the Rebs are hurting, or are we being carried by a splinter group?"


@Raider867 @OGTomahawk

 

[Raider867]

@OGTomahawk @Tierax


"Who knows, Roux. We'll just have to find out sooner or later." He says with a shrug. He looks towards Clayton's cell.


"Whoever goes out first and hatches the plan will double back to here, correct? To release other prisoners?"

 

[Tierax]

"Sure, as long as you follow my plan when I do, then I'll follow either of yours if you do first."


He wasn't sure who would go first, they all seemed like high value targets, a wanted criminal with an unknown foe, and two clearly valuable Boy Scouts.


He finally managed to dent the sink a little, giving a sharp corner to try and bust his bindings off, he begun to smash them against the corner with enthusiasm not even trying to hide the noise.


@Raider867 @OGTomahawk

 

[Raider867]

Klein decides to lay on the bed and wait for the time to come. "I suggest we get some shuteye to be fully awake and energized when the time comes." He suggests.


@Tierax @OGTomahawk

 

[Tierax]

Roux grunted in approval, before setting his mind to thought while still attempting to break the cuff-like bracers that stubbornly bound his hands.


-that was a massacre back there, way too many recruits... And if this ship was there then why? Fighting kaiju?-


He shook his head at the thought, an expression of disdain and disapproving "pfft" before it struck him.


-total subjugation? If it's nearly as impressive as the few people who have made it out to be, that's possible... Then why guard it with a battalion of raw recruits?!-


He still couldn't shake the thought that something was wrong with this whole scenario, someone knew something... And Roux was going to find out what.


"Yeah, I'll try to keep the noise down then." He said realising he might need some friends to do so.


@Raider867 @OGTomahawk

 

[Crimrose]

At this point, Ivis had nothing to do anymore. The battle was over, the ship was gone. The defense had been a failure, and many were lost on the League's side. You could say the Rebels lost a bit as well, but she didn't really care about their losses too much. After all... The League was in the right to defend. Right? The League hadn't initiated some sort of attack on the Rebels, but the Rebels had raided the Shatterdome.


Ivis flew through collapsed structures, calling out for any remainders of the League. None in the rubble. Complete silence, Ivis had reached a level of salt only known by Dark Souls players... The Silent Salt. Not hatred just yet, but she was indeed pissed off. Failing was one thing, but this much loss was another. And yet... She still spared the Rebels? Why? She'd only be returning the favor by finishing off the group she had helped, right? She continued to search, the smoke not affecting her as it rose up from the mechanical corpses. It was almost guaranteed that any mech on fire had a dead pilot inside. The chances of living weren't much in the mass-produced mechs, compared to customs.


Still searching, she hadn't lost all hope that there'd be someone left. There were about 3, all still inside the cockpits of their respective machines. One was a tanker, and the other two were VTOL pilots. The tanker had a experienced look, you could practically see it in her eyes. Apparently the tanks were less of a death trap than the mechs, since they normally didn't use fancy fuel sources like reactors. The VTOL pilots were relatively new, at least it seemed that way. One was bleeding from the left side of his abdominal region, the other had been covering his eye. Ivis assumed that he had gotten something in it, but he seemed to be trying his best to tough it out. She eventually managed to get all 3 of them to a safer part of the Shatterdome, a part that hadn't taken too much damage.


She then headed back, before noticing another person walking among the ruins. 'Hey... That's one of the Rebel's that was told to stay where he was... That bastard.' She flew over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. The man turned around, about middle age, Asian, with black hair and brown eyes. Ivis then dropped her weapons and proceeded to jab him in the gut 5 times, speaking on impact. "What! Did! I! Tell! You!?" The man knelt over and clutched his stomach, trying to catch breath after he just had it knocked out of him. "Did I ask you to kneel?!" She then proceeded to kick him, hard enough to knock him up a whole 2 feet. (I mean, that's actually really low) He then slumped over, trying to speak. "Get up! I've had it up to here with your kind! You attacked them! They did nothing!" "We're... Fighting for what we believe in..." The man replied, coughing up blood. "I don't need your excuses... Now get out. Before I really lose it." Perhaps that had been enough to give her a split second to think, and it payed off for that man. He got back up with a limp, and headed back towards his assigned group. Ivis opened up her comm. "I need a transport here, we have a couple POWs. About 15." She then shut it off and sighed, picking her weapons back up and slashing at the ground with her sword relentlessly. Her eye of the storm must have passed. "I'm definitely getting an upgrade. They'll know it all too well when I get it."

 

[H3LLJUMPER_177]

Jack was doing a clearing of the battle field, killing anyone that was not on his side, so far he's executed 9 rebels, he wasn't in his mech, since the battle was over. He sighed and proceeded with the 10th kill. "Anyone League soldiers out there wounded, raise a hand or make a noise!" he shouted, very loudly, trying to see if anyone was still alive.


He arrived at the first sight he attacked, and saw the ripped corpses that scattered the land, large holes in the round, and what looked like some had tried to crawl away, but the wolfs got them fist. It was so cold, the bodies were frozen and blue. Jack admired his handy work with a swift kick to one of the dead guys that was missing an arm.


He made his way to the last one, seeing a few dead League soldiers here and there, the rest were dead rebels, either burnt or shot, he was using napalm rockets on the last group, using a fear tactic that didn't work. "Could have ran off..." he said, falling to his knees, looking around, at what he did, something he said he'd never use, but did.


"It's alright Jack..." his AI said, he shook his head, "No, it's not, I knew what were those rockets, and I used them anyways!" he said, standing up and walking back.

 

[dr xenon]

[[Jackson]]


"--peat. Report with your mech to Ship Bay Beta!" the Watch Officer's voice repeated relentlessly over the comm channel. All Cutter wanted was for him to stop. He just wanted a few minutes of quiet in the Riptide's command pod to gather his thought, assess the damage, and figure out how he'd kill Roux. But eh Watch Officer's voice just kept repeating the same damn order and Cutter only knew one way to make him stop.


Him, he thought. Not her. Wonder if she made it through okay or if she's splattered all over the comm tower?


"Do you acknowledge, Sergeant November? Repeat. Repor--"





"Acknowledged, Command," Cutter snapped coldly into the comm. "Proceedin' to Ship Bay Bayder."


What in the hell could they have in Ship Bay Beta? Why did I save Roux? I know damn well why I saved him. Ma November raised her boy, right, that's why. Still gonna fire an ion lance through that junk pile he calls a mech when I catch him ...





Jackson's thoughts bounced around like a wrench in a pickup truck's bed on 5 miles of bad road as he made his way to the ship bay. Walking his Riptide through the Mech bays doors he let out a low, slow whistle as he saw the gantry lights playing down the length of the super-carrier under construction there. Crews are scrambling over the hull like ants at picnic -- sending showers of sparks here, madly welding there. Cranes are lowering supplies into holds, and surviving mechs are queuing up.


"Just like the guv'ment," he mutters to himself. "Why build one o' somethin' when you can build two fer twice tha price?"


An icon appears on his HUD and he walks the Riptide to the new location.


@HEATS (just trying to nudge us along)

 

[A Skull on the Shelf]

Sullivan sat in the cockpit of the machine he had captured, scrolling through information on a data pad he had hooked up to its interface. The machine was inoperable due to the damage it had sustained—and even if it was operable, Sullivan doubted it'd respond to anyone but its pilot—but that didn't stop him from pulling the machine's data and statistics from it.


He called it Lucky, huh? Fitting, if these stats are any indicator. Looks like this suit's luck has just about dried up, though...





Though he had requested that the mechanics hold off on scrapping it, he doubted they'd wait very long. Sullivan didn't particularly care if it was scrapped, but since his father had come up with the design he felt obligated to at least talk to Lucky's pilot before the machine was gone for good.


Deciding to do just that, Sullivan hopped out of the ruined machine, data pad in hand, and made his way towards the brig where the pilot was held. It took him quite a while longer than it should have, as he found it difficult to navigate the halls and had to stop to get directions. This damn ship is way too big.





Eventually however, he managed to find the ship's brig and strode into it, nabbing a fold-out chair on his way in. Sullivan took a second to recall the pilot's face, then put the chair down in front of his cell, using the back of the chair as an armrest. "Howdy, punk."


@OGTomahawk

 

[Tierax]

Roux stopped trying to break his bindings when he heard footsteps approaching, he sat on his bed and stared at the man as he walked past.


-not for me huh? Guess I follow one of the other's lead then-


When he heard the chair unfold and the man address one of the cells his ears perked up.


-another independent?- he thought as curiosity drove him to his cell door to try and listen in.


@Raider867 @A Skull on the Shelf

 

[Pacificus]

@OGTomahawk[/URL]

Clayton was laying on his cells bed, staring at the ceiling. Now would be a good time to be drunk. He thought.


He was interrupted by a rebel pilot pulling up a chair outside his cell. He didn't acknowledge the rebels presence until he talked.


Clayton recognized the voice. He sat up and was surprised to see that the pilot was rather young looking. He raised an eyebrow. "Shiny?"

 

[Raider867]

Klein's eyes open at the new voice outside. He listens to what they talk about silently, still acting like he is asleep. His eyes slowly close as he listens, not wanting to be discovered to be listening.


@OGTomahawk @A Skull on the Shelf

 

[SentinelSevn]

"EXEA, how's damage?" Valk asked from within the cockpit of his mecha, hands quickly typing out commands from a holographic keyboard projected onto his lap. He had a slumped position in his seat, and his eyes never left the screen in front of him. On the screen was information he had recently pulled up after stationing EXEA in the stolen carrier's hangar bay, using this time to focus on repairs in case the League decided to chase down them down. The screen displayed information related to damage received, ammunition scavenged, energy depleted, and other vitals of the mech.


"Nothing notable to worry about, V. Typical damage against enemy mech of high caliber, but we were lucky it was only a short engagement. There is damage to my left leg, which was temporarily repaired. The torso has the armor's interior melting from your close range burst, which can be fixed with time. Perhaps the most prominent damage is the dulling of the sawblade's teeth, which will have to be sharpened elsewhere." The machine's female voice responded, giving her pilot a brief diagnostic of what he had asked. As for ammunition and energy reserves, they were numbers displayed on the screen; his ammunition had plenty in reserve, and energy was slowly being recovered.


"Alright, sounds good. I'll have both a mechanic sent over to deal with external damage, and a welder to see if he can check on the heat damage and predict whether it is repairable or needs to be replaced." Valk finished, tapping the back door to release the hatch. Armor plating shifted around the machine's lower neck, exposing Valk's seat and having it protrude from the opening. The male turned his body to face the side of the side, jumping off the landing onto the raised platform prepared for him. "If something happens, just contact me wirelessly. I'll have my headset on constantly, so I should be quick to respond." His hand went up to about head height, waving over his shoulders as he reassured the mech. Valk went to the first mechanic in sight, explaining the situation and requesting for work done on his machine.


Personally, he was curious to explore their new base. But he wasn't sure if he needed to be anywhere at the moment, or if he needed to report to anyone in particular.


(Aha! I managed to squeeze a post in! Sorry if it's lacking, tired but I was determined to get a post in. Valk is open to interaction with anyone in the rebel's new ship, which was why I left my last portion open ended. Just a reminder though, this group hasn't been working well with my notifications, so tag me, yeah? Or at least get a post in OOC about what your plans are, and we can discuss or something.)

 

[A Skull on the Shelf]

"That'd be me," Sullivan replied, flashing the captive pilot a small smirk. "I must say, mister...agh, what was your name again? Let's see..." Trailing off, Sullivan lifted his data pad, the faded words 'Property of O. Caldwell' written on the back. "Ah, yes. Clayton Tirpitz, that was it. I must say, Clayton Tirpitz, you pilot a pretty interesting machine in this day and age. Don't see many Dragoons nowadays."


Sullivan shifted in his chair, glancing between the data pad and Clayton. "Let's have a bit of a history lesson, shall we? The League Orbital Suit model number zero-zero-nine; the Dragoon. A machine designed when war with the outer colonies became an inevitability, the Dragoon was originally planned to be used as the League's primary invasion suit. The first few designs, however, were either much too light and often fell apart during atmospheric reentry or too heavy and couldn't decelerate fast enough, landing with enough force to embed themselves in the ground waist-deep. After the involvement of...certain engineers, however, the machine's base model was rebuilt to be much stockier, allowing it to remain relatively light while still being able to take the stress of high-speed drops from orbit. The Dragoon never got the chance to be used against the colonies, however, once the Invaders arrived and fucked everything up."


Sullivan swiped a few pages over on his data pad, then continued. "That brings us to you and your machine. Clayton Tirpitz, callsign 'Nitrous' after the name of your tournament suit, enlisted right after the Day's War and immediately put with the Orbital troops. During the course of the war with the Invaders you and your dragoon, factory designation N553, or 'Lucky' as you call it, participated in thirty operations and made twice the number of drops. Impressive. Unfortunately, you and what remained of the Orbitals were grounded as the Kaiju began to spread and the League lost the resources to maintain troops in orbit. While the League bigwigs were busy building their blue pillow forts, you and the other surviving orbital troops were tasked with taking out the Kaiju wherever and whenever possible."


Sullivan lowered the data pad and paused for a breath before continuing. "I do hope you realize that you and your fellows were practically offered on a silver platter to the Kaiju, right? The Dragoons were built to fight people, not mindless beasts. The League was using you as a meatshield so they could barricade themselves in while simultaneously clearing up space and resources for more modern models that were built to fight Kaiju, like Japan's absurdly huge super-unit, Crimson Ronin. What I'm curious to know is why you continue to fight for them when the League practically abandoned you."


@OGTomahawk

 

[dr xenon]

"EXEA, how's damage?" Valk asked from within the cockpit of his mecha, hands quickly typing out commands from a holographic keyboard projected onto his lap. He had a slumped position in his seat, and his eyes never left the screen in front of him. On the screen was information he had recently pulled up after stationing EXEA in the stolen carrier's hangar bay, using this time to focus on repairs in case the League decided to chase down them down. The screen displayed information related to damage received, ammunition scavenged, energy depleted, and other vitals of the mech.
"Nothing notable to worry about, V. Typical damage against enemy mech of high caliber, but we were lucky it was only a short engagement. There is damage to my left leg, which was temporarily repaired. The torso has the armor's interior melting from your close range burst, which can be fixed with time. Perhaps the most prominent damage is the dulling of the sawblade's teeth, which will have to be sharpened elsewhere." The machine's female voice responded, giving her pilot a brief diagnostic of what he had asked. As for ammunition and energy reserves, they were numbers displayed on the screen; his ammunition had plenty in reserve, and energy was slowly being recovered.


"Alright, sounds good. I'll have both a mechanic sent over to deal with external damage, and a welder to see if he can check on the heat damage and predict whether it is repairable or needs to be replaced." Valk finished, tapping the back door to release the hatch. Armor plating shifted around the machine's lower neck, exposing Valk's seat and having it protrude from the opening. The male turned his body to face the side of the side, jumping off the landing onto the raised platform prepared for him. "If something happens, just contact me wirelessly. I'll have my headset on constantly, so I should be quick to respond." His hand went up to about head height, waving over his shoulders as he reassured the mech. Valk went to the first mechanic in sight, explaining the situation and requesting for work done on his machine.


Personally, he was curious to explore their new base. But he wasn't sure if he needed to be anywhere at the moment, or if he needed to report to anyone in particular.


(Aha! I managed to squeeze a post in! Sorry if it's lacking, tired but I was determined to get a post in. Valk is open to interaction with anyone in the rebel's new ship, which was why I left my last portion open ended. Just a reminder though, this group hasn't been working well with my notifications, so tag me, yeah? Or at least get a post in OOC about what your plans are, and we can discuss or something.)

[[Rosie]]


"Vaht kind uv mech is dis vun, now?" Valk hears from him as he's explaining the situation to the mechanic. The mechanic stiffens a bit at the voice, like most line soldiers would when a senior non-com was approaching. "And vaht outfit are you with, pilot?"


Coming into his field of vision is the short, broad Chief of Mech technicians. Gone is the boarding armor and grenade launcher. She's back in her utilitarian coverall and toolbelt, with a freshly applied bow of dark lipstick on her pursed lips.


@AceOfSpades0210

 

[Pacificus]

@OGTomahawk[/URL]

Clayton noticed the name on the datapad. He listened intently to what the pilot had to say. He was rather offended by what Shiny said about his career. "Did ya learn all that from Lucky or the ships computers? Meh, it doesn't matter. I wonder what do you, Mr. Caldwell, think your mech was built for? That thing is awfully advanced. It was probably built post-war. Probably to kill kaiju. Yet, you used it to kill humans. You're smart, but you need to keep in kind that a spear is a spear is a spear.


"As for my fellows and I being meatshields, what the fuck do you think I joined the military for? Even you rebels should understand the concept of fighting for others. I fight to protect what's left of humanity from kaiju and terrorists. Sure, I take orders from windbags up top but I still defend the common citizen."


"Granted, I have noticed the League is becoming a little shady. I am not blind to that. But what am I going to do? I'm a small piece in a big fucking picture. The League is the best shot that I see for humanity, at this point."

 

[Raider867]

Klein speaks up. "The League isn't a little shady. It's more than a little." He says with a sigh, opening his eyes and sitting up.


@OGTomahawk @A Skull on the Shelf

 

[dr xenon]

@A Skull on the Shelf , @Raider867 , @OGTomahawk , @Tierax


[[Rebels]]


The tramp of feet down the hall heralded the arrival of 10 heavily armed troopers into the brig. They weren't marching in time, and a trained eye would easily identify them as front line grunts, not Military Police. They weren't exactly armed for the battlefield, sporting chop-barreled carbines instead of assault rifles, but they showed all the professionalism and grime of veterans. Their lieutenant was clearly cut from the same material as his men.


The squad split in a seemingly pre-defined manner. 3 going to Klein's cell, and 6 to Roux's. Three carbines snapped up to cover Klein. Six snapped up to cover Roux.


The officer did a quick assessment, and tossed manacles into Klein's cell.


"Pilot," the officer addresses Klein. His accent is some mid-Atlantic neutral tone. Maybe upstate New York or Connecticut. "Please put the restraints on and stand with you back to the cell door. You are being taken for questioning."


He moves to Roux's door.


"Roux le Corps," the lieutenant continues. "You are to be taken for medical evaluation. Any attempt to escape or resist will be met with immediate and extreme counter-measures. Do you both understand?"

 

[Tierax]

Roux burst out laughing, his bellows drowning out the conversation of the others.


"This a recruitment drive boy? You rebels aren't a hell of a lot better then the league! I haven't forgotten what you lot did to me and mine..."


He gets up and saunters to the cell door, grabbing the bars and shaking them for effect, their loud rattle sounding like the hinges could give at any moment.


"But sure, I'll meet you halfway, the brass on the league just as likely to put a bullet in your skull as they are to save your ass, but you Rebs put those bullets to the back. I ain't trust either of you, least of all those roughnecks right now.


So tell me, what are YOU after? Convince me not to bust us out and set fire to everything in this boat."


Roux's eyes carried a passionate anger to it, like a bushfire threatening to swallow everything if it could only break loose.


His voice biting at every word as he barely restrains himself to keep the conversation going.


He knew not all rebels were at fault, at this point he needed more information, but he'd be damned if he let the rebs think they were better then the league, not when they seem to be slinging the same damn muck.


"As for you lot," he says finally addressing the new comers. "Yeah, I'll comply, same terms as the other though."


He glared at the man in charge, backing away from his cell door.


-six guards, look pretty grizzled, take down maybe three before I succumb... Not my chance yet. Not yet.-


"Lead the way."


@Raider867 @OGTomahawk @A Skull on the Shelf @dr xenon

 

[Raider867]

@dr xenon


Klein sighs, putting the restraints on. "About damn time. I was about to go for another nap." He says to the officer, turning to face the wall, his back facing the cell door.

 

[dr xenon]

Roux burst out laughing, his bellows drowning out the conversation of the others.
"This a recruitment drive boy? You rebels aren't a hell of a lot better then the league! I haven't forgotten what you lot did to me and mine..."


He gets up and saunters to the cell door, grabbing the bars and shaking them for effect, their loud rattle sounding like the hinges could give at any moment.


"But sure, I'll meet you halfway, the brass on the league just as likely to put a bullet in your skull as they are to save your ass, but you Rebs put those bullets to the back. I ain't trust either of you, least of all those roughnecks right now.


So tell me, what are YOU after? Convince me not to bust us out and set fire to everything in this boat."


Roux's eyes carried a passionate anger to it, like a bushfire threatening to swallow everything if it could only break loose.


His voice biting at every word as he barely restrains himself to keep the conversation going.


He knew not all rebels were at fault, at this point he needed more information, but he'd be damned if he let the rebs think they were better then the league, not when they seem to be slinging the same damn muck.


"As for you lot," he says finally addressing the new comers. "Yeah, I'll comply, same terms as the other though."


He glared at the man in charge, backing away from his cell door.


-six guards, look pretty grizzled, take down maybe three before I succumb... Not my chance yet. Not yet.-


"Lead the way."


@Raider867 @OGTomahawk @A Skull on the Shelf

@dr xenon
Klein sighs, putting the restraints on. "About damn time. I was about to go for another nap." He says to the officer, turning to face the wall, his back facing the cell door.

The officer gives Roux a tired look. Lost to the mech pilot's back. Klein and Roux hear the bang of bolts receding from the doors, the soft moan of metal on metal as the doors swing open. Then hands on their left arms at the elbow and wrist - firmly but not gently guiding them out of their cells.


The squad almost immediately separates on leaving the brig.


[[@Raider867 ]]


The three troopers - two grunts and a three-striped sergeant - take Klein to a lift and he goes up. Up. And more up. Upon leaving the lift they're in a white-painted passageway. Here and there are signs of the recent struggle but the gruesome details have been wiped or mopped away. They lead him down the corridor and he passes the occasional Rebel crew member hustling past. A hatch cycles open and he catches a glimpse of a room filled with screens. Some kind of monitoring station perhaps - showing what looks like scans of East Coast Shatterdome, scans of the Caribbean, scans of northern South America, and scans of the United Kingdom. But then he's hustled past and through another hatch into a small room. Maybe Klein has seen interrogation rooms before with their chairs bolted to the floor and the ring in the metal table for the prisoner's manacles. This isn't that room. A wooden table sits in the center of the room with 6 comfortable chairs spaced around it. A holo-projector plate in the center of the table cycles through external views of the ship as it plows through the waves. A coffee-on-demand system sits on a nearby table with ceramic, handle-less mugs.


The guards take position in the corners and the hatch in the wall opposite from where Klein enters cycles open to show a tall, brown-haired woman in a rebel uniform. An eye-patch covers her left eye, and her left arm is a high quality, and almost imperceptible - probably would be to anyone but Klein - cybernetic replacement. The guards snap to attention and salute and she returns it.


"Good day, pilot," she says in a crisp British accent. "I am Captain Hawker, commanding officer on this ship. I am dreadfully curious as to how a League Special Ops pilot ended up on my ship. Please do tell?"


[[@Tierax]]


Roux isn't led up so much as forward. Presumably the medical facilites, bu design, were located in the center of the ship for maximum protection. No hatches open as they make their way along the passageways. No crew members randomly cross their path. After a few empty intersections Roux notices a faint "click click" coming from behind him - maybe from the Lieutenant - as they pass the cross-passage.


A large double-doored hatchway cycles open and Roux enters a two-story room. A medical gurney sits in the center of the room, surrounded by various standard-looking medical devices. If he looks up he sees that the second floor has banks of windows, with some dimly lit room behind them. Shadows move in the dimness.


A friendly looking corpsman moves closer to Roux, motioning for him to sit on the gurney.


"Let's take a look, pal. Looks like you've been through a meat grinder."


Just as he moves to the gurney, Roux catches a whiff of cigarette smoke. He hears the hatch cycle open again, and the Lieutenant whisper, "She sent the frikkin' Professor?"

 

[Raider867]

@dr xenon


Klein smirks. "I was just doing my duty when one of your people knocked me out with a grenade." He says vaguely with a shrug. "I'm surprised I live. No offense, but I always thought terrorists kill their prisoners." He says, his tone calm and a bit respectful.

 

[Tierax]

@dr xenon


The uneventful walk bored Roux, he figured the guards would be thankful for it, as his temper had eased back to normal.


He took notice of everything as he walked but it was all too foreign to him to work out an escape plan.


As he entered the medical room and was greeted by the doc, he turns to face him fully with a stoic stance.


"They whispered, why did they whisper?" He spoke calmly, but firmly without taking his eyes off the doctor.


-is this the 'professor'? Mad scientist type maybe?-


He studied this new man, too many new faces to keep track of but somehow he felt like he should remember this one.

 

[dr xenon]

@dr xenon
Klein smirks. "I was just doing my duty when one of your people knocked me out with a grenade." He says vaguely with a shrug. "I'm surprised I live. No offense, but I always thought terrorists kill their prisoners." He says, his tone calm and a bit respectful.

Hawker gestures for Klein to sit, and takes a seat herself at the table. A non-com enters. His most remarkable feature is how unremarkable he is. It almost prevents describing him at all. He sets a tray of small, assorted sandwiches, cheeses, and cut fruits on the table. Then moves to make coffee. One of the guards unshackles Klein.


"Some members of the rebellion resort to terror tactics," Captain Hawker continues. "I will not attempt to defend them."


She gestures at the food, and the steward places a cup of coffee in front of Klein along with a small service containing cream and sugar.


"That is not the rebellion that I joined when I left the League, and I will not support terror tactics under my command. But I will return to my question - what were you doing, alone at the base?"