Fandom MOBILE SUIT GUNDAM: [RESTORATION] [main]

[capMARVELOUS]

MANY CENTURIES AGO, what began as a simple dispute over stewardship of the human colonies on Titan escalated into what historians would come to call the THREE-WEEK WAR. Political leaders and aspiring warlords alike vied first for control of their own fractured colonies, then of their neighbors, then of the entire moon. Alliances were made and broken within days. Backstabbing and betrayal were not only commonplace but encouraged. Victories were short-lived. Combatants were shorter-lived.

Integral to this multi-sided power struggle were the MOBILE SUITS, multi-meter-tall humanoid abominations made of special metal alloys and enough firepower to level a city block. The most powerful of these, designation GUNDAM, were limited to one per colony, and were variously employed as the spearhead of an offensive or the last line of defense. Each Gundam was supported by an armada of lesser, mass-produced mobile suits, designation MOBILE INFANTRY.

The Three-Week War ended with the decisive BATTLE OF MAYDA INSULA, which resulted in victory for DOMERIGO ABRAM and his forces, and in the reunification of Titan’s colonies under one banner. Under the newly established ABRAM DYNASTY, Titan experienced a period of isolation and heavy military restructuring. All Gundams were ordered to be sealed away out of fear of their destructive power, and the production and distribution of further mobile infantry became strictly regulated.


MANY CENTURIES LATER, Titan is a shell of its once glorious self. The Abram Dynasty has decayed into a puppet state, but the members of its inner court are too busy squabbling with one another to pick up the strings, or to reign in the sadistic ASHURA CORPS that enforces order. Lack of innovation in mobile infantry production has resulted in an inability to effectively fight back against incursions by pirates and gunboat diplomats. Worst of all, the power of the Gundams is beginning to fade into myth.

But all hope is not lost.

There are those who still speak of the Gundams as the awesome, omnipotent beasts they were, as the vital instruments in bringing peace to Titan centuries ago. There are those who would break the seals, raise the Gundams from their tombs, and harness their power to bring peace once again.

Welcome to
MOBILE SUIT GUNDAM : [ R E S T O R A T I O N ]
機 動 戦 士 ガ ン ダ ム：[ 復 元 ]
~ ~ ~​

 

[capMARVELOUS]

A NEW DAY DAWNS ON [ TITAN ]
機 動 戦 士 ガ ン ダ ム：[ 復 元 ]
~ ~ ~​

THE YEAR IS AFTER UNITY 265, close to three centuries after the conclusion of the Three-Week War. Titan remains under the control of the Abram Dynasty, but the bold new era it promised upon its founding has long since run its course.

Society has divided into an informal but persistent caste system that reserves privileges solely for the military elite. Self-serving politicians have woven a Gordian knot of micro-managerial restrictions and regulations. Social unrest prompts harsher crackdowns from the Ashura Corps and from local mobile infantry militias. Parties from more developed parts of the solar system seek to strongarm Titan's leading families into signing unequal treaties. Pirates and brigands strike repeatedly at orbital stations and production facilities.

Pessimism and suspicion are the attitudes of the day, and many believe that Titan is on the verge of regressing completely into its wartime state.

Much has changed for the worse.

But much can still be changed for the better. All it will take are those with the willpower to make it so.


IN KAMEYAMA TOWN, on the coast of Kraken Mare, shipbuilders are hard at work constructing the amphibious "land schooners" responsible for dispersing produce, livestock, textiles, and other goods to the rest of Titan's colonies.

Roving merchants and scrappers gather here to hawk their salvage- chiefly wreckage from mobile infantry skirmishes; the most prized wreckage comes from the site where the Battle of Mayda Insula was fought long ago and not so far away- to fuel the shipbuilding industry, and to earn enough to keep starvation at bay for just a little longer.

Life in Kameyama Town is difficult and free of many comforts; for many, it is the only life they have ever known or ever will know.

But fate has its eye on a particular troupe who has made its home here. These hardworking young men and women will soon find their difficult lives upended in a way that none of them could ever expect...


ON THE ORBITAL STATION NANTUCKET, high above Titan's atmosphere, administrators are monitoring the airspace for signs of approaching and departing craft.

Nantucket is one of the most important orbital stations tethered to the spaceport colony of Dejima City down on the surface, acting as a screen for any parties who seek to visit Titan for business, alliance, or pleasure. In the event of hostile parties, it is equipped with a sizable cohort of space-bound Dagoo units that provide the first line of defense.

Even though Titan has been reopened to the solar system for many years now, visitors remain few and far-between. The veterans of Nantucket now regard their positions with little of the esteem they once felt; to them, being assigned here is a punishment, a bloodless way for the upper crust to get you out of their hair for good.

But these victims of bureaucracy will soon get a taste of the excitement that has been absent from their diets for so long. New visitors are on their way, and their business with Titan is of another sort entirely...


IN IKEDAYA TOWN, in the heart of the western Senkyo region, strange rumblings are afoot.

Decades of victimization by politicians and freshly minted military looking to throw their weight around have turned this lowly colony into a hotbed of anti-dynasty sentiment. Many of its citizens wish for a return to the relative prosperity and lack of looming outsider threats that accompanied Titan's period of isolation, and are unafraid to place the blame for the moon's decay at the feet of the now-impotent regime.

Protests and petitions continue to fall on deaf ears. Rumors abound that a cell of radicals based in Ikedaya Town plans to resort to terrorist acts in a final, desperate bid to make their voices heard. Nothing has come of these rumors yet, so for the time being, they remain rumors.

But for a particular police force, any rumors of threats against the glorious Abram Dynasty must be considered as facts and dealt with accordingly...


AND SOMEWHERE BENEATH Titan's surface, sealed within an ancient crypt, a METAL-SKINNED GOD slumbers, waiting to be awoken...

 

[godjacob]

Akane Orisato, Ikedaya Town

Doing the right thing shouldn't be so difficult.
​

Akane was a relative newcomer among the Ashura Corps, though even this more fresher perspective had not made her blind to the degrades of the Abram Dynasty or the Ashura Corps in specific. What once were the bastion of defenders along Titan were now presumed a corrupt and malicious set of enforcers to the elite families that rule Titan and its colonies. Akane tended to believe that this oversimplified things: That while true to an extent, there still was good within those among their ranks and a belief it still could be reformed to the ideals they once shared in the glory days.

"Ashura shit! Yall are murderous animals!"
​

Course, as Akane touched down upon Ikedaya Town itself, this image of the Ashura Corps and their recent fall from grace seemed to be all that mattered to the people here. Akane was sent more as a piece of assurance among rumblings of some nefarious activity; local militias and a possible terrorist cell that was taking arms in this town. Course, this was largely speculation and when Akane pressed for further proof she was told in less eloquent words "that's why you go get proof" with a touch of a curse mixed in that she opted not to recall. Yeah, some of her peers left...a lot to be desired, far as the vanguards of justice they were supposed to be.

And as she walked along the streets, the vocal cries of those who felt the need to outlet their aggression on the Abram Dynasty filled her ears as she had to admit, it was a bit discouraging. The looks of anger, the way kids seemed to move behind their loved ones in fear...it was as if she was some monster. That the uniform was a sign of the devil itself which was not how any of this was supposed to be.

"S-stop stop! Please!"

"Ah come on, just want a little fun, don't be such a stuck up~"​

Akane's attention shifted from these thoughts to a noise more distance in the alley, as a less than savory pair seemed to corner a woman alone who pleaded for some mercy, thought the malicious gleam in their gaze seemed to suggest that they would not hear to it. Whatever their intentions, Akane had no time to let it play out as she approached the pair.

"I should advise you gentleman to stand aside when one shows such discomfort. Reading the room tends to be a valued skill." Akane said as the pair of men glanced over to her and one seemed to scoff. "My my, didn't expect one of those Ashura Corps guys to come down here. What, want a piece of the action~?" The guy mused as Akane seemed to be disgusted with the mere implication as she approached them. "I won't ask again, back away now or I'll have to bring you both in." Akane mused back.

"What, pretending to be about the law now? This is why nobody respects the Ashura Corps...you only care about the "law" when it suits you!" The other man spat out, as the other attempted to walk over to her and reached in his pocket. "Say, I know what you guys are really about, so how about I give you a little something and you just pretend you didn't see not..."

Slam!​

The man was taken aback as Akane used a judo toss to flip him over her head and slammed him back down to the floor. The guy coughed up in pain and shock, as Akane twisted her arm and delivered a swift stomp to his neck as her cold gaze sent shivers beyond her years. "You can make assumptions all day, but when I wear this uniform...the law becomes the law." Akane said with an intensity to her tone.

"You bitch!" The other mugger seemed to curse out, as he pulled a knife and charged Akane as she quickly popped the shoulder of the first mugger and turned to his accomplice as she ducked down and swept the leg which knocked him off his feet as he fell on his back. Akane quickly drew a sword from her sheeth and used it to cut the handle of his knife in pieces before she moved herself between the woman and them and raised her blade as the looks of pain and shock filled their beings.

"Now then, which of us should walk away and pretend nothing happened?" Akane asked as the two fled in a panic as she sighed, returning her sword as she turned to the woman whose heart seemed to race from the experience. "You okay ma'am?" Akane asked as a mixture of emotions filled the woman; that uniform causing her hair to rise, but the reality of being saved and no longer in danger causing her to nod her head a bit.

"T-t-thank you..." The woman said as she moved off from the scene and Akane seemed to have a momentary smile. Even in spite of everything, she was determined to do some good in this world but whatever challenges she faced would have to wait. For now she had to keep patrol and see if she could sniff out any reality about this terrorist plot as she walked out of the alley.

 

[Dante Verren]

Cyrus Grymn
Location: Kageyama Town


Colorful sparks of blue and orange shot in all directions, and the warehouse was filled with the whining of a grinder lashing out against metal filled the warehouse. With as gentle of a hand he could, Cyrus eased his hand off the trigger of the grinder letting it slowly die down until the scream of the machine went silent. He raised the welding mask pulling it away from his face to get a better view of his work. One of the few problems with piloting Sabel in his line of work was that sometimes she would get some cosmetic damage. Space debris was a constant nuisance and a fast moving rock while not doing any actual harm would create small bits of fragments that needed to be taken care of. His mobile infantry might be on the homely looking side compared to the fancy sleek looking standard issue units used by officials parties, but that didn't mean Cyrus would leave her in a state of unnecessary cosmetic disrepair. Finding know fault in his work and satisfied that the scrapes from the last impact were all taken care of, he hit the button on the lift he was on, watching Sabel grow taller as the platform he was on drew closer to the ground.

Once the platform reached the ground the safety gate keeping the person onboard from falling opened and a small jingle played signaling it was safe to depart. Cyrus grabbed his tool kit and hopped down. He glanced up one final time at his mobile infantry. The one thing Sabel had above all others, was just how human the machine looked. Every other mobile infantry he had seen had always looked like what they were. a machine made for war. Not Sabel, sure it was a modified Dagoo, but you would have never guessed from how it looks. With a light smile he turned away from his machine and continued on his way. He couldn't stay here working on Sabel forever, not while there was actual more important work to be done. He didn't feel like getting chewed out too much, and another pair of hands was always needed somewhere. In Kameyama town you could always find something that needed some form of work done, it was how he ended up here, and the reason he remained. Best not to tarnish by slacking off too much.

 

[Landsharks]

Cormac Rocheford
Orbital Station Nantucket​

Titan. After four long years, he was home. Cormac gazed out at Saturn's moon from his position on the bridge of the small transport he'd taken back from Mars, at the side of the ship's actual captain. As they approached Titan's first line of defense, the exile folded his arms across his chest, letting the captain and the bridge crew handle their cover. Officially, the ship was registered as a small transport belonging to a Martian trading interest looking to scout out a possible new market. If his memory of the Nantucket's station culture remained intact, the garrison wouldn't bother trying too hard to confirm their story. And even if they did, the trail was legitimate up to a certain point. Crimson Frontiers was an actual company registered under Mars's market. It just so happened to be a shell company owned by one of Cormac's business partners and graciously loaned out to him for the duration of his business here.

Exile may have separated Cormac from the vast majority of his holdings and funds, but a distinguished military record went a long way towards helping himself and his retainers rebuild their lives. Security consultants with actual combat experience were still valued across the solar system, and Cormac had leveraged that into building capital and partnerships to fund his quest back to Titan.

"I leave the bridge to you, Captain." Cormac nodded towards his retainer, who snapped to a salute. "I'll make my way down to the cargo bay and prepare to deploy if the garrison finds any...discrepancies. Inform me as soon as possible if we've cleared security."

The transport had been specially fitted to have a false bottom directly underneath the floor of the cargo bay, shielded against security scans. After all, the Dragoon was still an illegal piece of hardware, and its appearance would have tipped the wrong people off far too quickly. They hadn't dared bring any other mobile suits, either. The few Tashtegos and Dagoos the Rocheford retainers managed to escape wouldn't fit with the Dragoon in the hidden compartment, and their cover as Martians would have been immediately blown should they arrive in orbit with Titanian mobile suits.

Now, the only thing that remained was to wait and see. Would the exiles clear customs, or would the garrison actually be on alert today?

 

[capMARVELOUS]

機 動 戦 士 ガ ン ダ ム：[ 復 元 ]
~ ~ ~​

• THE TROUPE
• THE DYNASTY
• THE CORPS

• 
  
  KAMEYAMA TOWN
  ON THE GROUND level of the disused warehouse that the Kameyama Troupe called home, another member of the intrepid band was hard at work looking for work.
  
  Ramnarine Strickland paused momentarily in his jostling of the mobile suit's control yokes to take another deep inhale of his smoldering Blue Kepp cigarette, letting the flavorful smoke sit in his lungs for several moments before letting it billow out of his mouth and the open cockpit, to dissipate in the cool morning air. His stash was almost out, but with money getting tighter every day, he had to make what he still had last; there was no telling how long it'd be before he got the chance to splurge again. If this thing would just do what it's supposed to, payday will hopefully come sooner rather than later, he thought as he resumed his jostling.
  
  Above him, the head of the Tashtego Strickland pivoted on its mighty neck joint, and the horns sprouting from its temples waggled. Laying as it was in the bed of a mobile hauler, little more than a maroon head, torso, and left arm, the mobile infantry unit seemed a far cry from its pristine ancestors that continued to roam Titan in search of aberrations like it. But this was by design. Like the rest of the troupe, Ramnarine knew well the risks of possessing unregistered or unlawfully modified mobile suits; were they ever to be found out, they'd face incarceration and an immediate revocation of what little social privileges they still had. To that end, he kept the Strickland purposely incomplete, disguised as just another half-wrecked mobile suit he'd found on a salvage trip. One of the few benefits of having nothing below the abdominal joints was that it was quite easy to tether it to a mobile hauler's dashboard and share broadcasts with the driver, like the ones he was currently seeking- no easy feat when hidden beneath layers of steel girders and concrete.
  
  Ramnarine caught sight of one of his younger coworkers approaching just as the cockpit's speakers began warbling. He reached out one of his long arms in a wave and offered a broad smile. "Yo, Cyrus!" he called. "You're just in time! I think I've just about caught it today-" He adjusted the angle of the Strickland's horns once more, and the audial clutter vanished from the transmission, leaving behind a voice slightly edged with static. "There!"
  
  "Goooood morning, dregs of society!" the voice said. "This is DJ ISHMAEL, coming at'cha with the hottest news on the freshest, cleanest catches across Titan!" Every week, this pirate radio station, relied upon by scrapper teams like the Kameyama Troupe to help locate new salvage areas, changed the frequency it broadcasted on to throw both Abram Dynasty authorities and the general audience off its host's trail. Nobody knew the first thing about DJ ISHMAEL- where they were based, who their sources were, even if they were a man or woman- but they had never failed to provide reliable intel, so it was worth the not knowing... and the weekly chore that was finding the new frequency.
  
  "So, that meteor storm last night, right? All those lights and colors, it really was just a beautiful show, especially for those of you in the north who got a front-row seat. Absolutely spectacular. But what's even more spectacular is what happened after. Listen to this! Some of the larger meteors made landfall around Muggel Lacus, and they really tore the place up, really did a number on those upper strata. And in doing so, they started unearthing something. No telling what exactly that something is just yet, only bits and pieces have surfaced so far, but what I can tell you is that it's old. Really old, maybe even as old as the Three-Week War! So once again, if you're a northerner and the adventurous, risk-taker type, then the land around Muggel Lacus is where you'll be heading for this mystery find! Good luck to ya! But of course, if you'd prefer to play it safe and know what you're getting into, there's still plenty of real estate to take advantage of. Listen to this..."
  
  That was where Ramnarine tuned out. He took another pull of his cigarette in a vain attempt to keep his grin from spreading ear to ear. From his experiences with other scrapper teams, he figured that most of them would be the types to play it safe and seek out salvage sites where the exact contents and value were known; with mystery sites like this one, there was just no telling. But though he wasn't exactly the gambling type, in this era when old tech was fetching a higher and higher price on the shipbuilding and black markets, the possibility of unearthing some rare goodies was incredibly appealing.
  
  He looked up from the cockpit controls to address the others beginning to gather around. "Well, everyone, it sounds like a prime opportunity has fallen right in our laps," he said in his best leader-type voice. "Muggel Lacus isn't too far from here. If we ship out now, we can get there before teatime. You guys feeling up to it?"
  
  The question was, of course, half-rhetorical.
  
  
  [ Dante Verren ]​
• 
  
  ORBITAL STATION NANTUCKET
  "SIR," A YOUNG junior officer said, rousing Eaver Ostermann from the papers and datapads arranged in small mountains on his desk. "Proximity alerts are picking up an approaching vessel; it's not one of ours. Might be worth a look... respectfully, of course, sir."
  
  "I'll decide what's worth a look, officer," Eaver replied, letting the junior officer stew beneath one of his trademark withering glares for several seconds before rising from his chair. Of course an approaching vessel was worth a look, especially if it wasn't one of Titan's. As chief of customs aboard Nantucket, it was his job to make sure that nothing slipped through the cracks that could at worst seriously disrupt surface life, or at best simply give the higher-ups another headache. Truth be told, it was a job that he hadn't done properly in a while, and he was looking forward to the chance to dust off his comms console.
  
  The effects of artificial gravity always made him a bit queasy; he rested a hand on his stomach to settle it as he followed the junior officer down the utilitarian white halls toward the main comms hub of the orbital station. Even hospitals looked cheerier than this; at least they were allowed to hang pictures or paint the walls in different colors. This looked more like solitary confinement than anything else, so it really wasn't any wonder that most of the staff ended up at least a little off-kilter by the time they shipped off back home. Not for the first time, Eaver found himself grateful for the backlog of paperwork he worked through every day. Having something to do kept his underlying nervous energies at bay, and he had no intention of letting them take over him like they had his predecessors, of giving Governor Magam even the slightest reason to declare him too incompetent to return to his old duties in Dejima City.
  
  The comms hub was home to a scant handful of officers, junior and senior in both rank and age. Though all seemed grateful for the opportunity to fulfill Nantucket's actual purpose for once, none could hide the haggard expressions etched deep into their faces; the light had gone out from the eyes of even the freshest recruits. The junior officer who had summoned him, Greiss, waved him over to the broad band of windows that doubled as the hub's viewscreen and pointed at the magnified image of the approaching vessel.
  
  "Hm. Martian," was all Eaver could think to say after a full observation of the vessel's make and markings. Small, apparently built for transportation of cargo. Of course, both common sense and the dynasty's lingering paranoia toward foreigners dictated that he couldn't simply take appearances at face value. Some of that paranoia must have wormed its way into Eaver, because he found the vessel almost suspiciously nonthreatening, and just slightly too small to transport a serious haul.
  
  He thumbed a button on the console and broadcasted a hailing signal. "Attention, Martian vessel," he said. "This is orbital station Nantucket. You have officially crossed into Titan's outer-atmospheric airspace. Identify yourself and transmit code of intent within three standard minutes; do not deviate from your present course." Codes of intent were specialized packets of data that spacers used to declare their destinations and the purpose of their travel to orbital stations like Nantucket and checkpoints along the pan-system trade and travel routes. But these, like appearances, could also be deceiving. Turning his attention back to Greiss, he added, "Get a garrison prepped for inspection. Something that size, eight should be enough."
  
  "Aye, sir," Greiss replied, and shifted to the adjacent console to broadcast the order.
  
  
  [ Landsharks ]​
• 
  
  IKEDAYA TOWN
  "OI, AKANE, YOU lettin' undesirables flee the scene again?" a voice drawled just as she exited the alley. A man was waiting in the street for her, his red corps coat draped over his shoulders like a cape and a smug smile plastered wide across his face.
  
  This was Nobuo Gumesindo, another relatively fresh face in the Ashura Corps' 08th division, and Akane's partner in patrolling this part of Ikedaya Town. Everybody knew that he only got in because someone owed his father a favor, and yet he paraded about like he had been prime stock from the beginning. Still, whatever his origins, nobody could deny that he had been quick to embrace both the corps' methods and efficiency, and the stereotype of the corpsmen as dynasty-sponsored butchers.
  
  "Bet you didn't even ask them about the other troublemakers before they took off," Nobuo continued as he approached Akane, shaking his head all the while. "Tch. Well, at least you roughed 'em up a bit this time; dislocated shoulder's a bit basic, but better than nothing, I guess." Speaking of shoulders, he draped his arm around hers conspiratorially and poked her in the chest. "Finally startin' to cotton on to the idea, eh? If they're gonna act like scum, then they've gotta handled like scum. Ain't that right, miss?" This last part he directed at the woman Akane had helped- not long departed from the alley herself- accompanied by a lecherous gaze.
  
  The woman turned around, and whatever fear had been leaving her face quickly returned as she registered that there were two corpsmen now. "I b-b-beg your pardon?" she stammered.
  
  "Didn't those two gutter maggots deserve what they got?"
  
  The woman gave no further response, merely stumbled over herself trying to get as far away from Nobuo as possible. He let out an ugly bark of laughter at the sight.
  
  "Still, though, real shame they ran away as fast as they did. If I'd gotten to 'em a little bit sooner..." His hand dropped pointedly to the handle of the blade tethered to his hip. "Ah well, nothin' to be done about it now, I guess. C'mon, partner, no more distractions," he said as he released Akane from his grip, as if he wouldn't immediately get distracted by another opportunity to cut down some petty criminal. "Let's catch us some terrorists."
  
  As he meandered down the street again, Nobuo let his gaze drift upward to where the 08th division's low-atmosphere cruiser, Jawbone, hovered over the colony like some vast, predatory bird. His hand left his blade to dip into his pocket and brush against the go-alarm nestled within. Upon activation of the go-alarm, Jawbone would zero in on the source of the signal and drop one of its complement of Queequegs for its owner on the surface, and then he'd really be able to do some damage. Under normal circumstances, the Tomino particles generated by a mobile suit's ultracompact reactor prevented their deployment in urban environments like Ikedaya Town- they mangled every conventional electronic system made by man, resulting in long-lasting blackouts that could, at worst, completely isolate a colony for several weeks. But these were not normal circumstances; there was a potential terrorist cell that needed the kind of extermination only a mobile suit could provide.
  
  And Nobuo had never really cared much for the wellbeing of anyone not wearing the corps' red, regardless of whether they were scum or not.
  
  
  [ godjacob ]​

 

[Landsharks]

Cormac Rocheford
Orbital Station Nantucket​

Down in the freighter's cargo bay, Cormac finished his preparations and opened the shielded compartment below the bay floor, entering the Dragoon's cockpit and restoring the cargo bay with the flick of a switch after he did so. He started to initiate warm-up procedures in his mobile suit, trusting that the smuggler's compartment would block any emissions from showing up on scans for the moment. As he was going through the motions, a comms window opened in the cockpit's HUD, showing the ship's captain.

"My lord," He saluted. "The garrison is demanding further identification. Transmitting our code of intent now. Do I have your permission to patch them through to you?"

"Permission granted, Captain." Cormac nodded, taking a moment to reach into a pocket and slip a mask over his face. As far as he knew, he was still a wanted man. Better safe than sorry. "Patch them through."

"This is orbital station Nantucket. You have officially crossed into Titan's outer-atmospheric airspace. Identify yourself and transmit code of intent within three standard minutes; do not deviate from your present course."

"Orbital station Nantucket, this is freighter Reliability. My crew is transmitting our flight plan to you now, but allow me to summarize: I am here under Crimson Frontiers' banner to scout out Titan's market for the possibility of bringing our business here in the future. We've just enough cargo space to bring a sampling of goods back to Mars and see how well they test on the market. Last I checked, Titan is open to trade, yes? Feel free to correct me should I be mistaken in this matter."

As he said this, the Dragoon finished final pre-flight checks, prepared to deploy at any time. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. The Nantucket's garrison was notoriously lax, but if push came to shove, all they had to do was break through the first wave and lose any pursuit in the upper atmosphere. By the time they made it planetside, there were a few choices for bolt holes.

 

[Chibistaryuu]

Ryuuko Galileo​

Location: Kameyama Town​

Mood: Normal; Happy​

As the day was tolling by whatever time it was in the roleplay, Ryuuko was busy at work listening to music via the headphones that were obviously on her head, as she was tolling the day away on inspecting the salvaged/damaged parts from various mobile suits to see if they were in good enough condition to be placed on a mobile suit as she regards in her allies/fellow members of the Kameyama Troupe as she takes pride in looking at Scrapped metal, Parts, even fricken old Weapons for mobile suits! As there was a saying: One (Wo)man's scrap is another (Wom)man's treasure ad hey this was goin' to be useful at least to sell or repair any mobile suits as Ryuuko had ideas and plenty of them.

Currently, as she was standing in front of a massive table within the Hangar (Questionably wondering) the Scrapped part was lying on it as it was on the other side of the hangar, Ryuuko inspected the damaged part that probably belonged to DAGOON Unit but who knowns as she was looking at the twisted and bent metal with evidence of rust apparent on the leg and hints of splayed pieces and other things among it that RRyuuko was poking at and inspecting as she then sighed.

"Moderately Damaged..... But Easily Repairable!" She deduced rubbing her chin a bit as she smirked.

She takes off her headphones with the music still playing as she turns her head to see the familiar tastego, As she waves. "Hey, Ranmarine!" She greeted/Shouts extremely loudly yet quite excitedly as it caught the attention of anyone who was near her with a surprisingly loud-as-heck voice. She noticed the Mobile Hauler as quite comically her eyes sparkled in delight at seeing more salvaged parts as she squealed in joy.

"You got more! Big fricken score!"

She then jogged down from the other side of the hangar toward Ranmarine and Cyrus as she heard the Radio and about a site full of part and whatnot, Ryuuko couldn't help but feel like something chaotic was going to happen later on but she dumped down feelings down and kicked them in the gut to make sure it goes away completely as she hears the Kameyama Troupe's Leader asking Albeit Half-rhetorically which the blue-haired snorted a bit. "I Really don't mind goingI- Like I mean What could we salvage from There? and I bet there's a lot of Scrap Metal and old parts there!" She said.

---

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