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Futuristic NCQuest: Breaking Era

Windsock

Windsock

Two Thousand Club
It is the year 2655, four centuries after an apocalypse has destroyed the surface of the planet. A golden age of scientific progress and understanding was destroyed by mankind's own hands, by means of nuclear and biological weapons of mass destruction. The survivors of this great destruction took residence in massive 'Burrows', cities underneath the surface, and knew a second, less bright age of peace and reconstruction as the surface took time to heal. Shortly after mankind settled underneath the surface, the mega-corporations that constructed the Burrows became stronger and stronger still; eventually consuming the governments of old and forming into vast conglomerates. The Ruling Companies.


The Ruling Companies control the world with an iron fist; for a velvet glove has served its purpose long, long ago now. A status quo of an ordered chaos and constant low-level warfare, akin to ancient feudal times, has been maintained for three hundred years. The Ruling Companies have many tools at their disposal; and use all of them to justify and expand their rule. The facts of life and death have been turned into a business, as the wars are seen as an investment, a game, and a release-valve for all the world's problems all the same.


The Ruling Companies' greatest tool, and the greatest threat to their rule, is the 'Neural Combatant'. The men and women that pilot these absurd weapons are some of the most powerful, and free, individuals in the entire world. Neural Combatants themselves are giant, twenty-meters-or-more tall semi-humanoid war machines, each built to unique specifications, that can only be piloted by individuals with a rare mental trait, due to their control scheme. A direct neural interface port is one of the secrets for their power and design, as the pilot can more easily control and interface with a machine if that machine is built similarly to their own body.


The pilots of these weapons, as aforementioned, are distinct in the world as their 'gift' in piloting a Neural Combatant, also allows them true freedoms. Nearly anyone can be a pilot; and no matter their origin, all of them have a chance to shine, due to MAVERICK. The Ruling Companies can agree on two things; the Inter-Corporate Credit, and the maintenance of a special group, MAVERICK, designed to manage and support independent pilots as they carry out contract work, and to find and train people with 'the gift'.


The times are troubling, however, and the status quo of a controlled chaos is being slowly undermined. The Ruling Companies are finding it harder and harder to justify their rule to the masses, to control their territories, and to squash rebellious elements. In hushed tones, bars and clubs that the pilots of MAVERICK tend to gravitate towards are conveying a message of a coming world war, or something else entirely.


It seems that the coming age is going to be both a very good, and very bad year for mercenaries...
 




Rules, additional information, and shit. Mandatory reading.

OOC Information: This Quest will focus on the adventures of a group of both pre-made and 'out of our collective asses' individuals and their lives as the world experiences a period of upheaval. While some of the characters you guys'll be playing as are pre-made, their actions are not, and there'll be some people you guys'll make from the ground up.


Some ground rules:


1. Please, don't add anything 'heavy' or 'major' to the setting without my knowledge or consent. I don't want an offhand mention to the great war of '83 or to MooseMan: the amazing Canadian Superhero. If you want to reference stuff you pulled out of your ass, please talk to me so we can work it out. Still, feel free to add to the setting with those conditions intact though.


2.  The general tech level is akin to a three-way split between most anything you can see in the Fallout series, Armored Core, Gundam, and the general 'style' of the setting is close to the latter two with some Evangelion mixed in. Without the religious imagery anyway.


3. This is obvious, but I'm the boss here, so please respect my authority.


4. Please familiarize yourself with how a 'Quest' RP is different from other 'types'.


4.5 How this will work is that I'll make a post that details what's happening to one person, specified at the beginning, and the 'players' determine the best course of action from available options. Like a choose-your-own adventure book?


5. The setting itself is pretty old, and I'm sure I forgot quite a lot of facts about it that I probably should tell you guys, so if you got any questions, ask them.



Without further ado, let's do this shit.





You are BERNARD FISCHER, a junior pilot finishing his training under MAVERICK. You were born twenty-three years ago on the surface, in an independent town that's now long gone. You never knew your parents, but never mourned or felt angst over the fact. When your home-town withered and died due to banditry, you wandered the wastes and managed to 'immigrate' into a Burrow, Los Angeles Burrow, which is owned and operated by 'Denver-Vegas', one of the Ruling Companies.


You were a simple petty criminal for a couple of years, until you got caught and were detained. You were set to be executed until a medical test confirmed you had 'The Gift', and you choose the option that didn't result in your death. You were shipped off to MAVERICK to train your skills. It was a long journey, and you didn't make any friends, but you're almost finished. You have just one more test to take


You've just awakened in your own room, nearly an apartment, at MAVERICK's training facility, somewhere deep within the Alps. You turn your head to your digital clock. It reads 4:54 A.M, 6 minutes before it's supposed to sound the alarm. The date is March 4th, 2655, a day of much ceremony... Today is the day you receive your very own 'Neural Combatant', the machine you've trained the last two years to pilot. It is also the day you will give it its name, the day you officially enter MAVERICK's NC pilot database as a true pilot. Some of MAVERICK's top pilots (Not on a mission, anyway) will be here to officially recognize you as one of their own.


And it is also the day you'll take on your first combat operation for MAVERICK. One of those same pilots will gauge you during your given mission, and will decide whether you truly deserve to be counted amongst their number. The details of your first operation are currently unknown to you, but the elite assigned to be your spectator will enlighten you on your first duties, and the realities of being an 'independent' NC pilot that you need to be aware of.


The rest of the day is free, but ceremonies will start at 6:00, get to it.


1) Take a leak.


2) See what you have in your kitchenette and make some breakfast.


3) Get properly dressed.


4) Review your PDA


5) Lay in bed for six minutes.


6) Something Else (Write something afterwards)
 
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You throw your blanket towards your feet and roll out of bed, heading towards the pisser. You take a detour to switch on the lights to your room, and see that everything is still there on the way. You have your PDA, sitting on your kitchenette's table. Every NC pilot should have one of those to handle their data and how much Inter-Corporate-Credit they have. Not to mention general communications.


You open the door to the bathroom, and see a roguish, yet otherwise average young man in the mirror looking back at you. Thankfully, not in the sense that someone's behind you. You do what you came to the bathroom for and take your time to wake up some more. As pissing isn't very focus-worthy, your mind begins to wander.


So, you really are going to 'graduate' today. This is the day you turn from some petty thug into a new man. With how NC pilots are effectively mercenaries (at least, most of the time), you're not sure if the recent instabilities of the world would be good or bad for you and your ilk. You'll, one day, have to figure out where and with who your loyalties lie...


Nonetheless, you finish pissing and as if it was automated, zip back up, flush the toilet, and walk out the room in record time. Not like that's impressive or anything. You close the door to the bathroom, then you realize you hear a knock at the door. 


Thump, thump, thump. "Uhhh... Mister Fischer?", a voice you can't put a face to in your daze, but feminine and familiar, "May I come in?". She sounds like she wants to talk. You can tell it's not one of the faculty, though, so...


1) Tell her she can come in.


2) Go to the door and see what she wants first.


3) Pretend you aren't there.


4) Handle something else first.


5) Something else (Write it down)


(Feel free to write down speech or an addendum alongside an option, E.G., 1) "What's the matter? Could I make you something to eat?" or "Handle something else first; breakfast.)
 
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Open the door and see what she wants first, then ask if she would like to come in and sit down. 
 
You maneuver yourself towards the door, and gaze out the little hole to see it's one of your peers, Alina... Something. It looks like she brought a bag of ...cookies? In your groggy state, you ask, "What do you want? Would you like to come in?", and she replies with a "Yes, I would. I just wanted to talk.". As good of a reason as any, you open the door and let her in.


She's somewhat tall for a woman, reaching your own average height, yet a bit on the lean side to counterbalance. You remember her never scoring particularly well on the physical tests, but you think she was distinct in her ability to actually pilot, at least in simulations. Of course, you were paying attention to yourself more then others so you can't remember specifics. She has short black hair and is currently wearing her pilot's suit, a mesh-y jumpsuit with rigid composite plating at key points and the ability to restrict blood flow for high-gee maneuvers. It's not like your legs are important while piloting a flying giant death robot compared to, say, your brain.


Reminds you that you should probably put yours on as well sooner or later. Hers is a complex, snowy-camouflaged pattern, while you picked a simple jet black coloration. You lock the door after she comes in and point her towards your kitchenette's little table for three. She sits down and unzips her little plastic bag of cookies, pointing it towards where you'll sit. She tries to look around your 'little room' while attempting to not look like she's doing it. You never conversed much, but you think she's not much of a liar.


Before you can even ask what she wants to talk about, she finishes the thought for you. "So, what-", she cuts you off, "I'd like to discuss the ceremonies today."


She brings out her PDA from a pocket on her suit's abdomen, "You know of MAVERICK's ranking system, right? Since we're 'affiliates' now, we can look into their database and see the top fifty most dangerous pilots in the entire world... Who do you think are going to judge us today..? What's the price for being 'wanting'?", she asks, while flipping through the list herself. "They say experienced pilots will judge us, but who is that? Top ten? Twenty? Fifty?"


You're not sure if she's worried or just curious.


In fact, why is she talking to you?


1) Look over the list with her and see if you can guess some likely 'inspectors' and discuss them.


2) Ask her to read over the list while you handle the rest of your morning ritual.


3) Sit down with her and eat some cookies first before talking.


4) Tell her you aren't particularly interested.


5) Do something else entirely.


(Feel free to write addendums)
 
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You sit at the table, and let her continue talking while you take your rightful tax of baked, chocolate goods.


She continues checking the database on her PDA and looks at yours, almost suggesting you to look with your own eyes as well. She brings up something on hers and begins talking, passing it to the center of the table, and rotating it so you can see it. "Some of the top rankers appear..", she finishes with a more grim tone, "...Psychotic..."


You see on the screen lines of text and a few images describing the man who takes rank ten, and his NC, 'Eruption'.


The short paragraph attached describes him and his machine as;


"The pilot of 'Eruption', is noted for dangerous mental instability, yet also high mental compatibility with his Neural Combatant's systems, a dangerous blend for his targets. Noted for minimal concern of other people's lives or opinions, his peers occasionally report chuckling when enemies are destroyed by his NC's main weapon, thermobaric warheads. Little is publicly known of his history. He has requested his name be private."


One of the images, 'recovered from flaming debris fields', depict a large, quadrupedal machine, like a centaur, towering over the camera. It's festooned with a variety of weapons, ranging from small machine gun turrets, to a large flamethrower it lugs with its arms, to massive cylinders on its back that can barely be seen, likely the aforementioned thermobaric warheads. Something about the posture of the NC suggests the pilot was having a good time.


The units lone sensor eye is focused directly at the camera.


Alina looks at you when she thinks you're done reading the page with wide eyes. "One of our judges could be a damn pyromaniac." She then lets you continue, grabbing a cookie for herself.


Aside, you feel pretty awake now, with some sugar in your bloodstream.


1) Go down the list a few times, towards 'Rank #1'.


2) Go up the list a few times, towards 'Rank #50'.


3) Go to a specific number.


4) Ask her why she thinks this chronic over-cooker would even be interested.


5) Something else entirely


(Feel free to write addendums)


 

CURRENT INVENTORY:


Six of Alina's Cookies


Your PDA


Alina's PDA


Your Pajamas


INFORMATION:


It is 5:10 A.M.


You are Rank N/A in MAVERICK.


You haven't checked how much money you have yet. You forgot the number. You're definitely not rich though. yet.


You feel Healthy, mildly hungry, and rested.


NEURAL COMBATANT STATUS:


Your Neural Combatant is Nameless. You specified you wanted a Jack-Of-All-Trades model. You don't know the specifics right now.


OTHER:


Alina might trust or like you.
 
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4) Ask her why she thinks the chronic over-cooker would even be interested, while listening to her answer get two glasses of milk. (If we have milk)
 
(OH MY GOD ANOTHER PERSON HOLY SHIT)



(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I'M SO HAPPY)




You begin to rise from your chair, and ask her, "You really think this guy'd be interested rating some new pilots?", and maneuver towards your fridge. "I think he'd rather spend his time lighting himself on fire." She tilts her head and looks towards the door. "Yeah, I'd suppose..."


You get out a jug of synthetic cow milk and two glasses, filling them and passing one towards Alina.


"It's just the possibility of it. If it isn't him, who could it be? If it is someone like him, will it be him specifically? Or somebody else? What's he doing so high-up anyway?". She sips on the milk and intentionally makes a mustache. She seems to find it mildly humorous. "At least it looks like he isn't the average for the top ten. Number five is noted for his 'apprenticeships'."


She reads another (paraphrased) description aloud, pausing to finish her glass of milk.


"Mikhail Sokoloff, Volkov's golden goose. He's personally mentored twelve young pilots, with half of them being in the top fifty. No-nonsense, quiet, and aggressive.", she scoffs, "They even note one of his common quotes." She does her best impression of a quiet, imposing russki. "Da, if make enemy move how you is of wantings, the job is already done, сука."


She chortles at her own joke, "That was so shitty. Thank god I'm going to be a pilot and not a comedian, huh?"


She then asks about something else. "Hey... what are you going to call your NC anyway? I think I've decided on a name for my own. Harlequin. Maybe." She continues her line of inquiry, with "..What are you actually going to do with it? Why'd you get caught up in this?". She finishes her point by chomping on a cookie.


1) Change the subject.


2) Tell her what you hope to do with it.


3) Ask her what she wants to do with her own newfound skills.


4) Shrug.


5) Something else.



(An addendum is heavily suggested)



The specifics of this answer will slightly change the future from now on. Things'll add up; Choose wisely.



CURRENT INVENTORY:


Five of Alina's Cookies


One Glass of Synthetic Milk


Your PDA


Alina's PDA


Your Pajamas


INFORMATION:


It is 5:15 A.M.


You are Rank N/A in MAVERICK.


You haven't checked how much money you have yet. You forgot the number. You're definitely not rich though. yet.


You feel Healthy, slightly hungry, and rested.


NEURAL COMBATANT STATUS:


Your Neural Combatant is Nameless. You specified you wanted a Jack-Of-All-Trades model. You don't know the specifics right now.


OTHER:


Alina might trust or like you.
 
5) Try to do a Russian accent, and tell her that her joke wasn't that bad. Shrug "Maybe something like Aries, or Leo. Something after a constellation." Eat a cookie then sigh, give a brief overview of our past, how we are looking at graduating as an opportunity to be a new person, how we might not be sure what we are going to do but that's okay because we can figure it out along the way. Then ask her what she is thinking about doing.


An example of maybe what he can say, use as much or as little as you would like.

"You know if I wasn't here I would probably be in jail or dead. I guess I see graduating as a chance to be a new person, a kind of rebirth of sorts." Chuckle at how cliche and stupid that sounds, "Man that sounds lame. I don't know for certain what I am going to do, but I can kind of figure that out along the way, just see where this opportunity takes me." Another shrug, "What about you? What are you thinking of doing."



((Glad to be joining in))
 
(Constellations? I can work with that.)





You go along with the joke, and in the thickest faux-russki you can, tell her "Tsovarich, your joke was pride to motherland! Any better and I'd send you to gulag.".


You both laugh for a few seconds at the horrible impression. You continue the conversation with a shrug, and say "I was thinking something like Aries, or Leo. Something after one of the constellations.". You wolf down another cookie then decide to give some of your own background before you answer her question.


"Y'know, I was born on the surface about twenty-three years ago. I never knew my parents, but, I don't mind. I made ends meet by acting as an assistant to people in my little shanty village. The thing I remember most was the heat; it was unbearable. Pretty sure I suffered from heatstroke at least once. Wasn't pretty. Well, really, most of my early life was boring aside from the occasional bandit raid. Shame, they eventually took over the town, and I packed my bags, figuratively of course."


She nods at your story and lets you continue.


"I wandered the wastes for a few years before I found a Denver-Vegas caravan. I hitched a ride and eventually ended up inside of Los Angeles Burrow. Pretty big place, for me, it was surreal how you could wake up to a metal sky... I was never sure if it was comforting or horrifying." You finish your glass and lean over to the sink, gently throwing it in there. "At least you didn't have to worry about the occasional bout of acid rain."


"I continued to do my damnedest to get by in that city, but, how I got by didn't sit well with the authorities. I was doing some running work for some gang or another and next thing I knew it, I was knocked to the ground and lost consciousness with a punch to the face. Those riot police hit hard." You hold your nose in memory of the hard knock. "They ran some routine tests on me, and they gave me a deal."


You shake your head at the absurdity of your life up to this point.


"You know, if I wasn't here, I'd be rotting in a jail cell or be as dead as a doorknob. When I heard what I'd be doing here, I just saw it as an opportunity..."


You begin to nod yourself. "I could be a new man, with a new face. Figuratively, anyway. Sounds pretty lame, but, I could make whatever mark on the world I see fit. I don't know what I want to do yet but I'll figure things out. One step at a time."


You then nod towards her. "So, what did you get in for?"



"It's...", she drags on the first word. "It's... more personal for me."


"Oh?", you ask. "How so?"


"..." She fidgets in the seat and puts one leg over the other. "When I was a little girl I saw how these Neural Combatants were so strong. The people inside never had to worry about anything; they were lumbering behemoths that could crush an army... They had all this fame, and fortune, but...". She taps the table.


"I don't really want to be famous or just have money. I worked for a time when I was little to help my parents pay the tithes, Y'know how it is, and I was serving food to this guy, and.. well.. I eventually figured out he was one of them. He was a guy. He had the thing in his neck, the suit, the... attitude. We talked for hours in my parents' little diner and he told me so many things. Wondrous things to my little ears."


"That's when I knew I had to become one of them. I wanted to be the biggest and baddest NC pilot in the world. I watched as his NC powered up far, far away from the outskirts of our town. I squinted so hard to see it go up, up, and fly away. I never saw him or the machine again." Her eyes glitter a little bit from the nostalgia.


"Those were really simple, hopeful times."


She looks towards her PDA and notices the time.


"Wow, you should start getting ready. I don't think it's smart to come to the ceremony in your pajamas and without taking a shower. Finish off the cookies for me, okay?". She gets up and trots to the door, letting herself out and finishing the conversation with a "I'll see you in an hour, I hope. Bye, Fischer. Be safe."



1) Take heed and wash your ass.


2) Loaf around for a few more minutes.


3) Check your PDA for bank information, NC status, MAVERICK's shop, etcetera.


4) Prepare your piloting suit.


5) Something else.



Oh god I hope nobody notices I forgot the options the first time.




CURRENT INVENTORY:


Four of Alina's Cookies


Your PDA


Your Pajamas


INFORMATION:


It is March 4th, 2655, 5:25 A.M.


You are Rank N/A in MAVERICK.


You haven't checked how much money you have yet. You forgot the number. You're definitely not rich though. yet.


You feel Healthy, slightly hungry, and rested.


NEURAL COMBATANT STATUS:


Your Neural Combatant is Nameless. You specified you wanted a Jack-Of-All-Trades model. You don't know the specifics right now.


OTHER:


Alina seems to like and trust you.
 
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1) Take heed and wash our ass.


I was wondering why they weren't there earlier... I mean I saw nothing.
 
You quickly enter the bathroom once more, and undress from your pajamas. You enjoy as a blisteringly hot shower cleans away your stench and filth. You wash your hair, face, and the rest of your body in the shower before cutting the water and drying off. You finish by brushing your teeth, shaving, and grooming your hair.


You let it go wild for that "I'm a legit pilot, motherfucker." look.


You go back into the main room and go to your closet, tugging out your own pilot suit. As said before, it's a simple, jet black thing with a few special features to compliment your abilities to pilot.


You do a quick once-over and put it on very quickly, the procedure drilled into your brain to the point you could slip into one in your sleep. It fits comfortably, and plated, shaped bits tastefully protect all your bits. It took a few tries for the clothiers and engineers working in tandem to get it just right.


Standing in the middle of your abode, you see the time has passed to 5:40! You should probably get to the inauguration ceremony. This sort of an event had a tendency to start early, if only a little bit.


You can even faintly hear an engine's roar becoming louder.






1) Go straight towards the hangar.


2) Take a few minutes to check everything first.


3) Try to catch up and walk with Alina.


4) Something else.





CURRENT INVENTORY:


Four of Alina's Cookies


Your PDA


Your Pilot suit.


INFORMATION:


It is March 4th, 2655, 5:40 A.M.


You are Rank N/A in MAVERICK.


You haven't checked how much money you have yet. You forgot the number. You're definitely not rich though. yet.


You feel Healthy,  full, and rested.


NEURAL COMBATANT STATUS:


Your Neural Combatant is Nameless. You specified you wanted a Jack-Of-All-Trades model. You don't know the specifics right now.


OTHER:


Alina seems to like and trust you.





Forgive me if this is short or has awkward writing, I'm using my phone for this one.
 
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You make your way to the hangar section of the facility, and finish off the cookies as you walk. You go outside to a shortcut that uses a catwalk, and find two of your other peers outside; the 'two guys' of your class, Saveli and Henry. You believe they are, and plan to be, a 'smart and strong' duo. Saveli thinks so that Henry can hit things. They both certainly look the part; Saveli is slightly shorter than you and teeters on the justifiable part of pudgy, while Henry towers over most everyone and could easily crack you in half. You can't remember Henry speaking, but Saveli, amusingly enough given recent events, is Russian, and speaks with a slight accent to match.


"Oh, Bernard. How nice it is to meet you. We're just enjoying the weather, as you can see." Henry shrugs. "Well, we're just about to get going ourselves. How goes-", Sevali is interrupted as four aerial vehicles come into view, heading for the installation's hangar. From here, you can see that two appear to be a pair of NC's, likely the vehicle of your 'judges', and it's being followed by two massive transports, probably carrying you and your peers' Neural Combatants.


Saveli nods at Henry, who nods back. "Well, it appears we've little time left. Would you like to walk with us?"


1) Tell them you're not interested and walk alone.


2) Walk with the two and strike up conversation. 


3) Take another route and avoid them.


4) Something else.







CURRENT INVENTORY:


Your PDA


Your Pilot suit.


INFORMATION:


It is March 4th, 2655, 5:50 A.M.


You are Rank N/A in MAVERICK.


You haven't checked how much money you have yet.


You feel Healthy,  full, and rested.


NEURAL COMBATANT STATUS:


Your Neural Combatant is Nameless. You specified you wanted a Jack-Of-All-Trades model. You don't know the specifics right now.


OTHER:


Alina seems to like and trust you.


Sevali and Henry have mild interest in you.


(A notice: This was originally going to be much longer and include the ceremony, but I'm having trouble actually writing the damn thing. I think knowing what you guys would expect from it might help. So, how do you think they should inaugurate new pilots? I was thinking it'd be something like knighting; you buckle up into your NC and another pilot in their own Neural Combatant asks 'your' (your NC's) name, then sends you off to a battle. Sound good?)


(Oh, and another thing; your first few jobs aren't going to pay you, as you have to effectively pay back the cost of training and your NC. After the first mission though, we're doing our first character change. Mainly because I don't think the rest of the 'starter' missions'll be fun for you guys, it's basically a skip?)
 
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2) Lets strike up a conversation.


Yeah that sounds good. There is probably some sort of speech first. Like "You are all the future of Neural Combatants. Some of you will succeed some of you will die. This is your next great quest in life." You know all the cliche stuff. You probably don't have to write the whole speech I doubt we would really pay attention to it any way. (Our character wouldn't pay attention, I personally would. That's a big distinction sorry >~<)


Then they all step up one by one and get their own NC's
 
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You decide to take them up on their offer and walk with them. You let them break from where they were standing and start walking first, following behind them.


Sevali tries to begin the conversation as you three walk together. "So, how goes things? Any plans for the future? From my own sources, I believe I already know who our judges are and some plausible missions. As we're supposed to demonstrate our strengths, I believe they'll attack our weaknesses, correct? It only makes logical sense."


Henry just grunts in apparent agreement.


"I doubt we'll be formed into teams, so, in my own example, I'm convinced they'll send me on a mission that requires brute strength and raw skill instead of tactical acumen.", Sevali begins doing hand gestures. "In Henry's case it's plausible they'll do the opposite.", he begins 'fist-fighting' with an invisible opponent. "Of course, I still think they'll go easy on us since it's quite obvious we'd make a great team aside from our individual faults.". He glances and points over to his friend. "Right?"


"...Hrmph"


With a thumbs up, "Right."


"In your own case, I don't think you have a specific weakness to exploit, do you?" He holds his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "It's plausible they'll throw you into a battle where even they don't know what could happen. For a fighter with no specific strengths or weaknesses, the best way to test them is see what happens when they go in blind and have to use everything. Not very reliable, but what can you do?" Henry just shrugs when Sevali finishes.


He then begins mocking the hand gestures behind his back, raising his middle fingers before stopping.


"Ah, anyway.", Saveli looks at the incoming vehicles, as you can barely see the ceiling of the hangar opening up. "I recognize the Neural Combatants. Number Nine and Thirteen; their real names, Terrance Barton and Kenshin Hayashi. Their NC's are known as Raven and Masamune. Hayashi is a known 'tricky' close-combat specialist, and Barton is an all-rounder. Much like yourself. I believe he'll be the one to judge you."


"He's a real stickler for knightly honor, so I'd suggest being on your best behavior? Do as you please, of course. I'm not your boss. I'm Henry's!"


Sevali punches Henry in the arm and chortles. The brute of a man just smirks and says the first two actual words you've ever heard him say; "Guess so."


Before you know it, you're almost colliding with the maintenance door to the hangar that the array of catwalks you're on was built for. Among others. Amusingly, Henry actually does collide with a pipe of some kind that was just low enough to hit his forehead. As usual, he just grunts in reply and opens the door for Saveli and yourself.




You come into the (usually) "Maintenance staff only" area of the hangar and sneak through into the main hangar itself, watching as the two transports, already landed, are being unloaded. The two NC's are assisting in unloading the cargo; eight other Neural Combatants, each somewhat modified from the most basic model.


Aside from yours, of course. You're not sure if that makes you more unique in comparison.


The two Neural Combatants, in addition to their own personal heraldry, are adorned with a '#09' and a '#11' just as Salevi said. They are both humanoid models, much like your own, but drastically differ. The Raven is a knightly, angular-armored unit with unpainted plates and the rare purple highlights, with an array of sensor eyes in its visor that glow a dull orange. The Masamune's most striking feature is also its namesake; a single, gigantic curved blade currently sheathed on its back. Aside, you can see it has a complex pattern of segmented plates covering each of its joints, and it has a more rounded and curved frame otherwise.


The pilot of the Raven politely motions towards the small group you're in, and gives you three a small bow. The other pilot makes his NC simply nod, but is also the first to speak to you directly, an eastern, quick and concise voice booming from the NC's speakers, nearly drowning out everything else.


"I see you students are right on time. Punctual; very respectable.", he says, before pausing. He eventually continues. "Your class has trained hard, and well; You've achieved much in your tests so far. But now, we will personally judge your abilities; and crown you as our equals, if you're deserving."


The pilot of Raven speaks next, moving his arm towards the NC's he helped unload, which are now crouching side-by-side. "Maneuver to your own, and we shall enlighten you on your very first duties. After this, if we see you hit our marks, you shall continue operations for a set period to reimburse the funds lost on getting you where you are today."


Back to Hayashi; "It will be a tough period, to be sure; and it is likely a few of you may not live to fight another day, but I'm sure those of you that do will fight well. Pay your debts, and you will be free." Raven finishes the short 'speech', "We will follow and spectate each of you as we test you, but remember; we are simply spectators. We will not interfere if calamity befalls you."


You begin to walk towards your own Neural Combatant.



With the help of an extended ladder, you climb towards the Neural Combatant's chest compartment, and enter into the cockpit through a thick armored hatch, further protected by a bisected armor panel that divides and moves away for you.


Climbing inside, you enter a reasonably roomy cockpit. You see your neural-interface chair, and sit inside your very own Neural Combatant... This is yours, and yours alone. You buckle up, and slide your legs into their own specialized bracings. You can feel your suit tighten and prepare to restrain your limbs blood-stream as you settle, and activate the neural plug procedure.


You rest your neck slightly backwards, and you can feel a neural plug reveal and begin positioning itself. Shortly, it clamps onto and around your neck, and you can feel it interface with your nervous system.


All of your senses cut off in an instant, and re-appear a second later. But, not your originals.


Your vision is flooded with sensory data about the atmospheric pressure, your own structural integrity, items of interest in front of you, and your field of view can even extend almost behind you. Everything you glance at has estimated details, like supposed identities based on your own memories, Such as Alina, currently still climbing into her own NC, the materials constituting the things you see, speeds, dimensions, and a range of others.


You read off your own diagnostics. Everything is just as it should be, in your virtual experience. You look up, still in the crouched position, and see Raven's arms holding a broadsword it had sheathed on its hip, and nearly touching your head with the flat end of the blade.


He communicates directly to you, as clear in your ear as if he was right next to you, and sounding as if it came from all around you at once;


"I am Raven. What is your name, Maverick?"


1) Answer.


2) There is no option two.





CURRENT INVENTORY:


Your PDA


Your Pilot suit.


INFORMATION:


It is March 4th, 2655, 6:10 A.M.


You are Rank N/A in MAVERICK.


You haven't checked how much money you have yet.


You feel Healthy,  full, and rested.


NEURAL COMBATANT STATUS:


Self-Diagnostics:

UNIT: N/A


WEAPONS;


Linear Carbine: 300 Rounds


Plasma Blade: 100% Charged


Single-Tube, High-Caliber Rocket: 20 Rounds


Additional Sensors: 100% Charged


SYSTEMS;


Sensors: Fully Functioning


Armor Plates: Undamaged


Frame: Undamaged


Primary Thrusters: 100% Power


Vernier Thrusters: 100% Power



OTHER:


Relations:

Alina seems to like and trust you.


Sevali and Henry have mild interest in you.


Terrance shows interest in your skills.


Kenshin cares little.




Long post is pretty long. Sorry about the quickening of the pace; We'll slow down once the first 'And now for someone completely different' happens. Also, your Neural Combatant looks a little something like this:

mechanize_memory_01_by_taurustrin-d7b0id4.jpg

Sketch ain't mine.


You ready to kick some ass?
 
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Well, someone mentioned Aries and Leo, so how about Leo? (As much as I like Aries, I feel "The Ram" would be a name better suited to a more tank-focused fighter.) If we're going for astrological names, Scorpio could be another contender, though perhaps overdone.
 
I'm about to crash today. Close enough to 12 I'd suppose.


Leo it is then.







You nearly choke.


"I'm... I'm Leo, sir.", you finally let out.


"Leo, I welcome you. You are the seventy-sixth of our number.", Raven says.


"I have a single request for you. Do you accept?"


You nod. "I accept."


"Very well. Here are the details."


You begin receiving data, as it's beamed directly into your brain through the communications link. You see your own, or perhaps your NC's, mental map of the entire world. The globe begins to zoom into the Old Germany area, and you see a fog of red around a zone labelled 'Old world facility: Germany-301'. 


"An anti-establishment group has holed up deep within an ancient military complex. We do not know its purpose, but they have only entered the base very recently, and it's believed that the base's defenses have weakened them severely. We don't have much info on what specifically they have access to, but I'm certain that you won't have trouble with anything that comes up. You will need to weave through their long range defenses, take them all out, and go into the base."


You begin to see images of the possible enemies that you might encounter; ranging from stolen armored fighting vehicles, makeshift howitzers, scavenged helicopters, and re-activated old-world equivalents. With the information provided, none of them seem particularly dangerous.


"Secure it of any hostiles worthy of a Neural Combatant, and you will receive judgement based upon your performance."


You nod once more. "I'll go forth immediately."


The Raven gives one last nod of approval. "I sincerely hope I will not find you wanting."


You stand up, and begin preparations. Reactor, at full output. Thrusters online. All limbs functional. Verniers, active. Fuel tank is full.




So... why aren't you flying?


You have to forget how to fly now, of all times? How embarrassing.


You're quite sure you're expected to launch off any second now. You can't screw up so soon; and especially not in front of your assessor!


Quickly, what do you do?!


1) Try giving out a mental command to do so! What if you accidentally fire one of your weapons?!


2) Run a quick self-diagnostics. With how much time that takes, he could notice...


3) Change your posture? You could look like an idiot, though.


4) Look at Alina for an example! She'll know what to do!


5) Something else. (Quickly!)





huehuehuehueuhehu



CURRENT INVENTORY:


Your PDA. You wanna check BurrowBook now?!


Your Pilot suit.


Your NC's Emergency Supplies. They can't help you in this emergency!


INFORMATION:


It is March 4th, 2655, 6:15 A.M.


You are Rank 76 in MAVERICK.


You haven't checked how much money you have yet.


You feel Healthy,  full, and rested.


NEURAL COMBATANT STATUS:


Self-Diagnostics:

UNIT: N/A


WEAPONS;


Linear Carbine: 300 Rounds


Plasma Blade: 100% Charged


Single-Tube, High-Caliber Rocket: 20 Rounds


Additional Sensors: 100% Charged


SYSTEMS;


Sensors: Fully Functioning


Armor Plates: Undamaged


Frame: Undamaged


Primary Thrusters: 100%? Power


Vernier Thrusters: 100% Power



OTHER:


Relations:

Alina seems to like and trust you. She has to know what she's doing, right?!


Sevali and Henry have mild interest in you. They're laughing at you behind your back, you can tell.


Terrance shows interest in your skills. But you think he's looking at you funny! Fuck, fuckfufckfuck


Kenshin cares little. But you think he's tilting his head some.
 
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Is this getting... popular?


noice



One more post before I go to bed.


You're just over-thinking it. Or under, in this case. That has to be it.


You breath in and out, and look up towards the sky.


'Primary Thrusters.'


You feel heat emanating from your your legs and back! You can hear a gentle exhaust impact the ground, and the spreading of parcels on the floor of the hangar.


The gentle exhaust begins to propel you upwards, and ever so slightly forwards. It begins to come naturally to you, and you calmly rotate towards the mental beacon. You wait to gain a safe altitude.


'Cruise.'


Your speedometer begins to accelerate, and lines start to appear at the edge of your vision, denoting your line of movement. The gentle hum of turbofans turns into the characteristic roar of a thermal rocket, and you can feel certain parts of your new body opening up to reveal hidden air intakes. Twenty meters per second turns to thirty, then forty, then fifty...


You begin exiting the controlled zone of the MAVERICK training facility, and can barely believe what's happening.


You're a Maverick! And you're really flying!


How do you fly, Maverick?


1) Fly close to the ground, to not be seen until it's too late.


2) Start climbing; an aerial attack is always difficult to defend against.


3) Who cares about the altitude? Fly as fast as possible! See how far the speedometer goes!


4) See if you can manage some fancy aerial maneuvers on the way there.


5) Make it up as you go. (AKA: Write it in :p)






CURRENT INVENTORY:


Your PDA.


Your Pilot suit.


Your NC's Emergency Supplies.


INFORMATION:


It is March 4th, 2655, 6:15 A.M.


You are Rank 76 in MAVERICK.


You haven't checked how much money you have yet.


You feel Healthy,  full, and rested.


NEURAL COMBATANT STATUS:


Self-Diagnostics:

UNIT: N/A


WEAPONS;


Linear Carbine: 300 Rounds


Plasma Blade: 100% Charged


Single-Tube, High-Caliber Rocket: 20 Rounds


Additional Sensors: 100% Charged


SYSTEMS;


Sensors: Fully Functioning


Armor Plates: Undamaged


Frame: Undamaged


Primary Thrusters: 100% Power


Vernier Thrusters: 100% Power



OTHER:


Relations:

Alina seems to like and trust you.


Sevali and Henry have mild interest in you.


Terrance shows interest in your skills.


Kenshin cares little.
 
Let's stay close to the ground. Might be best to stick to stealth until we know more precisely what we're up against. They say the enemy shouldn't be dangerous, but a little caution never hurt.
 
(sorry about the wait)



For this operation, you decide to stay low to the ground, cruising at a technically dangerous fifty meters high. Shockwaves formed by your speed begin kicking up plumes of snow and other ground materials. Snow eventually turns into sand, and your mental map makes a note of a signature hot on your tail. The signature 'honks', and conveys data confirming it's just Raven launching behind you. One blip soon turns into four; as the three other pilots Raven is assessing begin their own launch procedures.


After cruising for perhaps a minute more, you can tell that Raven is following one in particular as the paths of the group begins to diverge. You scan the two, and see that Alina picked Harlequin for a name after all. You log this into your (Or is it your NC's?) databanks for future reference. Of course, this info is in MAVERICK's database as well for sure.


You see she's ranked sixty-eighth in MAVERICK's list, highest of any of the latest round of inductees. Fitting, considering she's consistently scored the best


in all tests actually concerning piloting. Why was she even worried?


No matter, you have your own problems to worry about. After almost an hour of cruising, you finally get to the outer-most perimeters of the combat zone, long after your long-range sensors have lost track of the others. You're sure Raven can still see you though, considering. What's really interesting is the fact that the combat zone appears to have sudden averse weather condition syndrome.


It's blanketed in a sandstorm. Your mapping function didn't predict this...


Seems like Saveli's prediction was right; Raven's sending you into a wolves' den to see what happens. You're not sure if you can blame him or not.


You begin to slow down and enter combat speeds, your thrusters changing gears and your 'HUD' morphing to accommodate. Informative details gives way to raw, easily-processed information density; and you can start seeing 'lock-on pips' around items of interest. You focus on a faint, but large signature through the sandstorm, and begin boosting towards it at a decent clip.


As soon as you breach the shroud you're greeted at mid-range by a menagerie of slap-dash, captured, and scavenged armored vehicles and the make-shift outpost they're stationed at. Perhaps a hundred or slightly more people in total completely piss their pants at their unexpected guest (you), and scramble around the base. Many begin manning their vehicles and encampments, while others try to hide and find cover in the chaos.


In total, you see seven points of interest; three facilities that appear to be surface/sub-surface elevators, two make-shift 'barracks' made out of an assortment of tents, and three discrete clusters of support equipment for armored vehicles, support vehicles, and a small handful of helicopters. Most of the actual vehicles are still stationed at their resting spots, clumped together.


For the things that can shoot back, you see a dozen main battle tanks of various make and model, twenty tanker trucks, seven self-propelled artillery guns, and five heavy transport choppers. The choppers appear to be fully loaded with... something.


You have a lot of momentum to burn and your weapons are hot; how do you plan to level this entire base, all by yourself?


1) Flank and strafe around the base, firing indiscriminately at everything.


 1a) Slide along the ground and reduce your size as a target. (30 Linear Carbine Rounds and 2 High-Caliber Rockets)


 1b) Continue hovering above the ground and attack their vulnerable ceiling armor. (Increase danger; 10 Rounds and 1 Rocket


2) Cut straight through, and knock aside anything standing in your way.


 2a) Stop in the middle and begin flying afterwards. (10% Plasma Blade charge, 30 Linear Carbine Rounds and 2 High-Caliber rockets. 'Momentum Bonus')


2b) Cut straight through, then continue going through the storm to come in through a different angle. (10% Plasma Blade charge, 30 Linear Carbine Rounds, 2 High-Caliber rockets. 'Momentum Bonus')


3) Go straight for their support facilities and...


3a) Start blowing up things that'll cause collateral damage. (Fuel tanks, ammo dumps, etc.) (3 High-Caliber Rockets, [HIGH DANGER])


3b) Focus fire on the enemy units themselves. (20 Linear Carbine Rounds, 10% Plasma Blade charge, [HIGH DANGER])






HOW COMBAT WILL WORK:


Just as you'd expect! Aside, though, there's a few caveats for this RP:


As every weapon has an ammo counter, you'll have to manage ammunition. Each action will cost a specific amount of ammunition.


Thruster speed also has to be managed; low speeds will give us a better chance to hit things at range, middling speeds will give us better general maneuverability, and high speeds will let us dodge attacks better.


NOTICE: if you guys don't really want to manage ammo or thruster speed, please tell me! I don't want it to get in the way of the good stuff if that's how you guys feel.



CURRENT INVENTORY:


Your PDA.


Your Pilot suit.


Your NC's Emergency Supplies.


INFORMATION:


It is March 4th, 2655, 6:15 A.M.


You are Rank 76 in MAVERICK.


You haven't checked how much money you have yet.


You feel Healthy,  full, and rested.


NEURAL COMBATANT STATUS:


Self-Diagnostics:

UNIT: N/A


WEAPONS;


Linear Carbine: 300 Rounds


Plasma Blade: 100% Charged


Single-Tube, High-Caliber Rocket: 20 Rounds


Additional Sensors: 100% Charged


SYSTEMS;


Sensors: Fully Functioning


Armor Plates: Undamaged


Frame: Undamaged


Primary Thrusters: 100% Power


Vernier Thrusters: 100% Power



OTHER:


Relations:

Alina seems to like and trust you.


Sevali and Henry have mild interest in you.


Terrance shows interest in your skills.


Kenshin cares little.
 
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