Futuristic THE LAST SHIELD

[welian]

Canary

Overview

Location	THIS MOON WAS MADE FOR YOU AND ME
Tags	Zahzi

In the chaos following the Great Turtling, Courtney was able to slink away, her mech crawling along reasonably well. Perhaps embarrassment was the key to her getting her shit together and improving her scores. Ultimately, she didn’t complete the movement evaluation within the time limit, but she did complete it – even if she did move like a rusted, haunted, animatronic.

Following that then, was the third evaluation – a test of incredible violence. She could almost cry tears of joy, or perhaps boundless patriotism. Truly, was there anything more American than filling the moon’s atmosphere with the acrid odor of hot metal and burning powder?

Pillbug crab-walked up to the firing range and sat down gently as Courtney could manage, which is to say her ETA stomped the ground a few times to flatten the soil, and then plopped down like an elderly obese lapdog settling in to watch some Price is Right with its mother before going to bed at 9pm.

“You have the most seniority out of all of us, Krieger,” she said politely. Her cannon was spinning slowly, preparing to come up to speed. A pair of hatches opened, with a rocket in each one. “Anything you’re celebrating today? A birthday? Independence from Britain? An ex get arrested? Sorry, I’ve only got red, white, and blue explosives, but you can pick the first color!”

 

[Kameron Esters-]

Moraes U. Coaling - ARES Program Day 1 - Evaluation 3, Moonbase Arclight

As the Evaluation 2 concluded, Moraes took a moment to reflect on his performance and the seamless transition of control from physical to neural as directed by the Shell Neuropathic Uplink. The gravity of the tasks at hand was not lost on him; every maneuver and decision now directly influenced by his thoughts added a layer of responsibility and connection to his ETA that was both exhilarating and daunting.

As Moraes prepared for Evaluation 3, he took a moment to center himself in the cockpit of his ETA. The directive for the evaluation reminded him of the very first time he held a firearm—how the metal felt heavy in his young hands and bore an even heavier responsibility. That formative experience marked the beginning of his journey with various firearms, shaping his respect for each weapon's unique capabilities and constraints.

Engaging the Shell Neuropathic Uplink control mode, Moraes felt the familiar sensation of syncing deeper with his ETA’s systems. This merging of mind and machine had become more comfortable with each exercise, and he directed his ETA toward the Firing Range with a clear intent to master the ranged weapons systems.

Arriving at the zero line of the Firing Range, Moraes selected his first target—a metal silhouette placed strategically 200 meters away. This distance brought back vivid memories of his early training days, learning to adjust for windage, mastering the rifle's recoil, and the disciplined breathing required to steady each shot. Aligning the ETA's sights, he recalled the meticulous drills, syncing his mental commands with the mechanical actions of the machine.

The sharp report of the rifle echoed across the simulated lunar landscape as the bullet struck the target. The clang of metal was a gratifying confirmation of his hit. The feedback from the ETA was immediate, translating his intentions into action with precision that mirrored his own physical experiences on the firing range.

With growing confidence, Moraes switched through the ETA’s weapons systems, each change bringing back different aspects of his extensive firearms training. He handled a high-caliber rifle with the familiarity of an old friend, appreciating its robust feedback and the distinct kickback that had once tested his endurance.

For subsequent shots, Moraes chose targets at varying distances and complexities, challenging himself to recall and apply specific training scenarios he had encountered over the years. Each weapon system required slight mental adjustments to manage its unique operational quirks, blending his past experiences with the current capabilities of the advanced war machine.

 

[Remembrance]

AX-8 | "Eight" | Arcade
Priority: Second Law
Interactions: Everyone (feel free to ignore)
Mentions: Coin (Vidal, the kind human) Zahzi (Friend Krieger)​

A fight? Humans fighting humans. Was there any way to keep them from harming each other? If there was one thing humans couldn't stop, it was infighting. In the end, the problem resolved itself before Eight could intervene. Vidal, the kind human, stopped them but also suggested more brawls. Unlike other First Law violations, the severity here was minimal. Eight’s absence nullified the violation since there was no physical way to stop the fight. What a mess.

The checklist for the third evaluation appeared on the monitor. A combat-centric evaluation was necessary, or so Eight had determined. It wasn't a lie to say Eight had anticipated this, but combining it with the Shell evaluation was unexpected.

Humans don't have rotary cannons, rocket launchers, or heavy machine guns. It simply isn't in their anatomy. Theoretically, the same technique Eight used to propel themselves upwards could work with weapon systems. The efficacy of controlling weaponry through the Shell was dubious at best. At worst, well, Eight couldn't predict the damage from misfiring or other complications with Shell-controlled armaments.

As a Law-abiding robot, Eight was quite lucky that this was a simulation and not conducted live. Maybe luck did not have anything to do with it. Truthfully, they owed much to the instructors and researchers for creating an environment where all kinds of technology could be tested without harm.

Perhaps then, this would be the perfect time to determine the fighting capabilities of their comrades.

Eight switched their communication unit to broadcast to all units present in the third evaluation.
<<Friends, it would be to our benefit to determine the effective range of each active unit. This will help everyone better coordinate during battle.>>

The line buzzed before Eight hopped back on.
<<Since I am proposing this, I will start first. Between the rocket launchers and heavy machine guns mounted on the Flight Over Elysian Fields, this unit can cover an effective range of 330 to 700 meters, or 1,080 to 2,300 feet. Although the machine guns can fire at a greater range, using the entire arsenal requires close-range positioning. I will demonstrate.>>

Eight maneuvered the Flight Over Elysian Fields carefully to the firing range. Their control over the Shell was lacking in many areas, but if there was a way to unite this unruly band of humans, it would be through mutual understanding and trust. There would be no trust if everyone was unaware of their comrades’ optimal range and capabilities. All ARES pilots may come from different creeds and cultures, but they share one thing. They are warriors. Fighters who won’t give up, even when everything seems lost. Perhaps this is humanity's strength—rising from the ashes of war and adapting. The same could not be said for Eight.

Two grenades shot out of the Flight Over Elysian Fields' wings. Hot gas expelled from under the wing flaps, rapidly expanding and dissipating in a moment. The rocket motors ignited, propelling the grenades to a target 1 kilometer away. From the pilot’s perspective, the rocket hit dead center. In truth, the grenade self-detonated just short of the target. Eight then moved to a closer target, this time, the target was obliterated.

Eight couldn’t tell if anyone was truly paying attention. Unlike robots, humans weren’t bound by specific laws. Eight had often theorized about the Laws of Humanics, but their absurd and illogical nature contradicted every proposed law Eight could compute. If there were indeed Laws of Humanics, Eight could not fathom how convoluted and complex they were. Perhaps Friend Krieger had his own thoughts on the matter. Eight would have to consult him later.

 

[Mechking]

"Lucky" Anton​

Well, it worked. As well as two multi ton ETAs crashing into each other can work. Seeing the task being done made the pain almost worth it. Anton sure was glad that the pain was reduced to a fraction of what it could have been. Although he fears that he'll experience what it's like to be hit like a truck sooner rather than later. And without the dampeners this time.

Worries for another time. Speaking of time, it ran out for these tasks, and before Anton could get really familiar with his thrusters. They sure helped him gain speed but everything else, like breaking and hovering, leave much to be desired. But he laughed heartily when he heard what the next test will be all about.

Weapons.

--------------------------------------------​

Without waiting for such trivial things such as his comrades or the instructors still speaking, Anton got himself into position. With some effort he grabbed the holstered grenade launchers and began aiming one. Now with all of the targeting sensors not being automatic but a part of him, this took a considerable amount of effort and sweat began to build up once more. But with a thought the weapon unlocked and then fired.

Thunk.

"Wait, how do our weapons even work if we're on the surface of the-"

KABOOM.

Seems like the weapons worked just fine. A big grin spread across Antons face as he lifted his other grenade launcher, adjusted his aim, and then fired it once aswell. With the gravity of the moon as well as the unfamiliarity of the ETA, plus Anton wasn't a great shot to begin with, his aim left much to be desired.

But grenades don't discriminate. And so he slowly adjusted his aim after each shot, alternating his weapons as he did so. His feel of their recoil got better and so his aim with the targeting computers. Once he was happy with it, Anton switched the firing mode of the launchers to full auto.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

And with that he generously distributed a volley of grenades in a wide arc while laughing into the open radio.

"Man, you guys sure know how to make a guy happy!"

Anton put the launchers back into safety mode and instead activated his shoulder-mounted cannons. It was now time for some sniping and one of the rare times that he actually could train his aim while not being out in the field.

He spent quite a bit of time aiming and firing single shots, though not hitting anything with great accuracy.

"Anyone got some tips for actually hitting something without blowing it all to hell?"

 

[YLVillain]

Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Base - Hangar 12/Moonbase Arclight Simulation
Interactions: Coin (Dr. Simonova), Remembrance (Eight)

Cy was grossly uncomfortable. His body had gotten hot enough for long enough that despite taking the time to relax and cool off, he couldn't cool down. The air around him had since heat up from the start of the simulation and with his sweat accompanied by the pod's actual location on Earth, things had gotten humid in the pod. He was burning to the touch and even his own skin felt unnatural and bothersome. In the midst of this roiling, Cy got a message from Eight, confirming their wellbeing. Cy used this opportunity to distract himself and sent a message back, "I'm glad to hear you're okay. If you have any troubles, please don't hesitate to ask for help, we're all here to bring the best out of each other."

Cy closed his messages in time for him to get another message about the second eval concluding and the third eval beginning to start. Cy remained prone for the duration of the explanation and for a short while afterwards. Not wanting to waste too much time, lounging about and wanting to get the simulation done and over with, he got up and headed over to the designated firing range. He viewed some of his other classmates already testing their weaponry, most of them enjoying their time getting to use their equipment in the first place. Cy privately communicated with the exam proctor in order to configure the simulation in a way he can get data and results from it as well. He discussed setting up adjustments for his equipment to be under the influences of earth environmental conditions, a small horde 15 km downrange and a medium horde 20 km downrange. With the moon's curvature limiting the horizon to only a few km, he could only rely on being fed back the data that the simulation observed over visual confirmation. After setting up the parameters for his exercise specifically, Cy moved into position so he could configure his ETA into its firing orientation.

Cy sat relatively away from the rest of the class but still within the bounds of the firing line. He got himself into a squat and then deployed his four anchor cables to secure himself. He intended for all four cables to launch at once but they instead launched one at a time. It didn't really matter too much but it did take longer than normal for him to set up this way. When his cables had comes tought, he began tilting his canopy back into firing position. Laying on his back he began interfacing with his new targeting software and internally admired the system. Intuitive UI, more-than-tolerable UX, customizable HUD layout and prioritization, this system was better than what even World of Tanks could provide. Cy was slightly anxious that he had forgotten parts of his training but as he interacted with the system more and more, the more his training came back to him. He confirmed the coordinates and trajectory, he cleared the area, he armed the shell, then fired. With a recoil he hadn't felt in a long time, he was abruptly shoved in his pod, a feeling that by this point had become nostalgic. He watched as his HUD covered the live pathing and trajectory of his shell, something that he had never seen before but did quite enjoy. He did observe it more to discover that the "live pathing" was just an estimated simulation rather than an actual tracker, but it was still more than anything he had ever used before. This way he could tell when his shells should have made contact and be more effective in calling in confirmation. His hit was successful and his second task had marked itself complete, albeit an understatement of a task at that for what his armaments were. He switched firing modes in order to set up his artillery missile and after clearing the same procedures as before, fired the missile. After contact, the effects were similar. That wasn't to say they were relatively ineffective, but with the different targeting sizes, they were confirmed to be what he was expecting to get out of his armaments.

Cy fired a few more rounds at varying ranges and collected the data from all his attempts for his own personal use later on. Satisfied with himself, he moved on to his last armament; his HMG. Cy thought it better to stay in his artillery configuration as if he was going to use the HMG, he'd want to be most used to having to use it when he was ambushed and unable to react with anything faster. It was awkward laying down what could be considered the wrong way, but due to where his HMG was mounted, it could still cover 360 degrees under his canopy. This was a neat thing he added in the design of his mech would automatically rotate its legs to make sure they wouldn't get in the firing path of his shots. Cy picked targets at the requested range and fired in short bursts until the target had been deemed neutralized and added to his counter.

Once he had finished his third task, he was satisfied with how relatively seamless this part of the eval was. Unfortunately, this was the part where he realized that he was reaching his limit for the day. His internal temp had reached 40 C (104 F), and with how hot the interior of his pod was, he decided to idle his ETA as much as he could to minimize the strain it was causing him. Luckily for Cy, he had always been blessed with a higher than usual tolerance for heat. For what would be hospitalization for most people was what an average fever for him would be. Now, that didn't mean he always enjoyed that, as he still felt the heat the same as anybody else, his body just wouldn't react the same way as other people's would to the same circumstances. So unfortunately for him, that just meant he could feel the worst heat even longer before his body would even consider himself to be under duress, despite what his mind would be telling him. Exhausted and approaching dehydration, Cy would stay as still as he could as he withstood the trial by fire his body was pushing him through, awaiting for the next set of instructions to be given to him from command. It was times like these where he would think back on his role models growing up in order to distract himself. In this case it was a figure from an older anime called Demon Slayer, an artistic masterpiece for its time. There was one character who was able to control fire that he had always considered his favorite character, and such a man had a catchphrase that Cy had always used whenever he was feeling particularly hot. "Set your heart ablaze." Those words alone got him through many a heatwave and would always help him with his mindset and personal perception of heat. This way it felt purposeful and worthwhile rather than for no particular reason.

 

[Coin]

"Hm? Over-achiever, are we, Haber?" Dr. Simonova grinned as she tapped away at her terminal. "I should have expected as such from ARES candidates, everyone has so much to prove. Oh well, who am I to say no?"

Pixelated patterns flickered downrange within the simulation, shifting and assembling until they manifested as additional target silhouettes. More targets formed after the 10km mark, dotted across the lunar landscape all the way out to 50km for good measure. Without digital assistance, it was practically impossible to see the furthest out targets on the firing line.

"There. Satisfied with the targets presented, Haber?" the doctor asked. "Can't say I don't spoil you, da?"

The sounds and sights of mixed ordinance tracers ignited the firing range as barrage began shortly after. Streaks of light found their marks (and some didn't), sending puffs of lunar soil, sparks, and shrapnel into the black sky of space. A low dust was quickly forming along the range, easily parsed by the ETAs' advanced optical equipment. Outside of the simulation, the brainwave patterns transmitted by the training pods were analyzed closely by the doctors and technicians.

This part, Vidal really didn't care about. Flat range shooting was practically useless in the field. In a perfect environment, the ETAs would perform exceptionally; they'd be useless if they didn't. In a real sortie, nothing was ever perfect. A pilot's ability to succeed in a real combat engagement barely had any merit in their ability to plink metal silhouettes on the moon.

"Nikan," the captain toggled the communication link to the fiery cadet's personal channel. Thankfully the doctors were too busy with their egghead work to notice the side conversation. "What's worth fighting for? To you, I mean. Humor me, or not, this isn't part of the evaluation."

---

Dr. Minamoto, meanwhile, scanned the lines of data like a hawk eyeing a plump field mouse. While Vidal gauged pilots by their actions and attitude, the program director needed something far less nebulous for her pilot appraisal. Brainwave patterns, service records, psych analysis reports, and SNU strength were what defined a fighter to her. Thus, she had her attention focused on pilots of the likes of Cadets Coaling, Yu-Ni, and Abadie first. Cool-headed professionals like them would statistically survive longer than the rest.

That being said, Minamoto acknowledged that more eccentric pilots were also needed to balance the force out. Professionalism and textbook maneuvers just didn't cut it for every situation on the battlefield. She would leave the informal instruction to Vidal, since he had a knack for identifying hidden talent that she didn't quite understand. As for her and her assistant doctors, they were better off staying in their corner of numbers and charts.

"Cadet Abadie, your body temperature is climbing higher than projected," Dr. Minamoto contacted him directly. "Have you felt any discomfort, pain, or any other signs of cybernetic rejection with the Shell when it is not in use like this?"

Spoiler: GM Note

Re: Zahzi , The One Eyed Bandit , Kameron Esters- , FabulousTrash , YLVillain

 

[Zahzi]

Hannes Krieger Haber
Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base; Simulated Moon Base
Nearby: ALL
Disposition: "I pine for a real firefight again..."​

welian
Krieger pondered Courtney's inquiry for a moment. Partly for the answer, and partly because of the continued realization that he was once again reminded of the generational gap in front of him. Jarring, truly. He shook his head to regain his train of thought after one too many nanoseconds of their music invaded his mind.
"...Vhile I am zure you vould accept any anzer, vhy not all? I'm zure as a Red-Blooded American, the notion CALLS to you, no?"
He had no ill will in his tone, but it DID sound matter-of-factly. As if this had happened time and time again in the past every time July came around back before the Starfallen wrecked everything.

Mechking
He looked toward Antonio, watching his shots and noting his arsenal.
"Vell, you are zet up less for accuracy unt more for overall obliteration, yes? Zo long as your aim hits in ze area, it vould be a hit. Ozhervise, perhaps a less explosive means?"

YLVillain
Krieger took note of Cyrus' results and nodded to the pilot's work. It was good to see an artillerist be more than capable of switching range in the event of ambush. Even long before the Starfallen, it was always a problem many couldn't face.
"Very refrezhing to see one in your line able to take ze fight at various ranges. Ztill, do not hezitate to ask for aziztance for vhen ze Ztarfallen grow tired of your mortarfire."

Coin
He watched as the simulation was altered by Simonova at his question. He hadn't meant to infer that he was looking for a larger range, looking more to the headstrong pilots around him.

He was not going to pass this kind of opportunity, though. No, that would be foolish and rude.

SOLDAT moved toward the position in front of the new field. Focusing on the targets, Krieger could see SOLDAT, through the assistance of the Shell, began to list off any and all necessary information that would assist in an accurate hit....With one problem.

The information was flawed. Badly.

He switched his focus from one target to another, baffled by the readouts.
The worst came with the information when he looked at the 50km targets. If only his eyes could still twitch.

"In vhat world does zhis make zen- Oh."
Right. He had to remind himself.
This was a simulation.
This was a simulation without variables.
This was a simulation without variables on the MOON.

With a mechanical sigh, he took aim at the 50km targets. Normally, the cannons SOLDAT was equipped with are meant to fire at a range of around 35km, but those who remember wartime history knew those numbers were guidelines at best. Especially of you recall the story of the USS Texas on D-Day. The adjustable, telescopic barrels on the cannons also didn't hurt for this scenario, either.
SOLDAT kept its cannons trained above the 50km targets as it slowly leaned backward, causing the arc to be even further back.
"...Counting for different gravity unt lack of vind......Firing first shot." A single shot fired out in the simulated vacuum. Were this back on earth, the shot would travel at about 900m/s and would reasonably reach its target in a little under a minute...Well, it took less than ten seconds here as it shredded that target upon impact.

".....Going based on zhat...Vell...Vhy not have a little fun....Zwitching firing to automatic. Fortunately zhe zimulation includes the vacuum, so hearing vill not be affected." he bared down at the 10km targets as the autoloaders kicked on as he opened fire on the range. The lunar surface around SOLDAT kicked up with a vengeance. While the dust held aloft longer than it would on Earth, it was clear this could also act as a tactical advantage in combat. Sure, not all of the Starfallen could 'see' like humans, but the very act of the earth flying everywhere would render their ability to see their target impossible while this assault continued...Assuming the tremors from the firing didn't cause havoc to friend and foe alike.
Perhaps this was why he tended to fight away from allies.

The devastation left in the wake the 10 second automatic volley was apparent. What was left where the 10km targets HAD been was nothing more than new craters for the fake moon to lament about...Until the simulation ended, anyway.

"...May have been a bit too much..." He glanced over at the others before SOLDAT slowly moved toward the CQC House.
"...I'll just....Be over here zo you all can have a go now, yes..?"

 

[FabulousTrash]

​

Kyo Yu-Ni | "Yongsan"
Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base - Hanger 12 / Moonbase Arclight simulation

​

Yu-Ni ignored Selfie's comment as she obliged with Vidal's instructions. Her ETA returned to a standby position, it's arms lower to her sides.

As she walked off towards the firing range, she read over the instructions for the next evaluation. Her ETA was more equipped for long-range engagements, but seeing as they were in a simulation, it wouldn't hurt to see how well she could perform in a close-quarters environment. Yu-Ni expected she'd find herself in one at some point.

Some of the pilots had already begun firing by the time Yu-Ni reached the firing range, finding spot with enough distance from the others. Up ahead, she watched in time to see additional targets materialize on the range, positioned at much further distances than the rest. Those would be the ones she aimed at.

First thing's first - engage the SNU. As she did, Yu-Ni disabled her weapon safeties. The railgun on her back folded out, the barrel extending out to it's full length as it now rested on her right shoulder. The autoloader cycled, loading a round into the chamber. It was her mind that was in control, not the manual sticks. Yu-Ni thought back to her days with the 707th, calling on her previous training as a sharp shooter. The legs of her ETA bent slightly as she lowered herself into a ready position. The claws of her ETA's feet dug into the moon's surface for additional stabilization and recoil control.

Instinctively, Yu-Ni closed one eye, as if she was looking through a scope. Her targeting system came online as her digital vision zoomed forward, putting the 50km targets in perfect view. Aided by her upgraded detection equipment, her radar was able to measure an exact distance to the target. The mechanism that stabilized her railgun adjusted in accordance with the data, reflected by the moving crosshair Yu-Ni could see.

The electromagnets hummed as they charged up, shortly followed by a large bang, or lack their of. They were in space after all. If anything, it was a measurable pressure wave that other pilots could feel if they were close to Yu-Ni. Her ETA was pushed back slightly, but otherwise remained upright She watched as no more than a few seconds later, her round piercing through the target she was aiming at. She sent more rounds down range, aiming for different points such as the head and limbs.

Now it was time for her missiles. But Yu-Ni also had an idea. She wasn't sure what kind of data the doctors were looking for, but Yu-Ni found it a little absurd they could garner anything from just firing at stationary targets. The pilot thumbed her comm, speaking to Dr. Simonova

"This is Yongsan. Any chance you could make new targets past the 50 kilometer range that move? Preferably in erratic patterns."

(hidden scroll ↓)

Coin

 

[simj26]

2nd Lt. James Harland

<<I don't have time for this.>> He had to be better. He didn’t have time to muck about in the mud with the nugget. He pulled away, disengaging from the other craft, and spun his own around to face the firing range. The others were right, of course. There were other things to focus on, more so than a nugget who couldn’t handle being barked at.

<<Activating weapons systems.>> He reached up and flicked the switches. The HUD lit up with a display of his armaments and their ammunition. Plenty to go. Plenty to fire. Just standing around here, though, emptying cartridges into the empty field felt like a waste of energy and time. Anyone could take their time to line up the perfect shot. On the field itself, such conditions weren’t available all the time. In short, this test was dull. He had to step it up somehow. It was all just a way to fucking show off. He wanted a proper fight. He wanted a proper death. He didn't want all this simulated bullshit. Crawl through live fire exercises, empty live rounds down range while covering for your teammates, that kind of shit.

He slammed his controls forwards. Forward direction, thrusters on, back to form. Full speed ahead. Lose yourself to the rush, the howl and the calling of momentum, kill, kill, and kill again.

<<Engaging bandits. Watch this.>>

BINGO flung itself over the firing line, crashing onto the grounds in the midst of the hail of rounds that tore apart the moon's surface ahead of it, before speeding off at top speed across the pale surface. It raised its autocannon, and held down the trigger, sending its own volley of rounds down range as it sped through, towards its simulated enemies, ducking, weaving, sliding across the simulated moon.

Standing at one side, just emptying cartridges down range was dull. Boring. Unrealistic. The fires of hell, in the midst of the noise, the chaos, the explosions and the threat of a stray bullet from a friendly, that was how it should be.

An excuse, that was all it was, but he reasoned that he would be on the frontlines more often than not. Let the snipers and artillery sit back, while he took on the front with those more daring to go ahead. Count it as a lesson for the nuggets.

While certainly not accurate, the strafing run across the field was more than enough to rip apart the targets as the machine grinded through the dust and debris of the previous members. Don’t stop moving. Don’t stop firing. Don’t stop. Speed is life.

A laugh, more akin to a cackle, came through clear across the comms as his autocannon shredded through the other targets as BINGO zipped across the field.




Interacted directly with:

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

Selfie Nikan​

"Hah?" As if indignation were a part of her daily (or more like hourly) routine, Selfie scoffed at Captain Vidal's sudden questioning. She'd never been a deep person, nor one who was very inclined towards the consideration of her actions. The whys of her whats had always seemed a given to her: She did as she did not because of any particular set of values, but simply because she had to. In order to survive. In order to thrive. But even in all of her indignation at the world and the people who haplessly trotted about it, she had done this- enlisting herself as soldier against the Starfallen menace- out of none of her usual instincts of survival and hunger. To go to war was to risk death, so what was she even sticking her neck out for?

"Ain't figured you for a shrink, Vidal. What're you playin' at?" The suspicion that edged Selfie's voice was plain to see. Regardless of the captain's lax demeanor he was a figure of authority, and a stranger to boot. Even if his status had been otherwise, the question itself would have irked her, too. She'd heard much the same throughout her life, from officers, teachers, principals, always with a look of admonishment rather than understanding in their eyes. Sealed away in the simulation as she was, all Selfie could perceive of the captain was his voice, but he imagined that same look in his eyes regardless.

"I'm fightin'- We're all fightin' because we ain't got any other choice, yeah? We're all dead in the middle of the apocalypse, ain't we? Never thought much past that. Either we keep killing these space-freaks until there's none of 'em left, or they do the same to us. Simple as that, nah?"

That wasn't the whole of it. In truth, there were more subtle, tender things that drove her to blows with the Starfallen. They needed to fight, yes, but it was the collective they. There was no need for her personal presence on the frontlines. In fact, she was rather sure that the 'comrades' with whom she currently shared the lunar surface with would have been glad to be rid of her. If not now, then in due time.

But, still, here she was.

"So, you gonna grade me or somethin'? This another one your tests?" The edge in her voice was growing sharper. The irritation she'd had cast upon her by so many of her fellow cadet's need to lecture one another was still fresh in her chest. She was here to kill aliens, damn it, not get chewed out by a gaggle of nobodies.

"Why don't ya ask that soulless bitch on the sniper range the same question? Ain't no need to waste your time on me, I'm sure she'll give you an A-Grade answer you can report back to ya superiors, or whatever this is for."
Interacted: Coin
Mentioned: FabulousTrash

 

[Coin]

Dr. Simonova sighed at Yongsan's request. The doctor tabbed to the cadet's communication channel and responded, "You just want to show off, don't you, Yongsan? Or do you have something to prove, hm?"

With a few swift taps on the console's keyboard, the simulation's firing range shifted again. A cluster of a dozen silhouettes pixelated into existence on the far horizon of the firing range. Visible only to the advanced 1-128x optics of an ETA, these truck-sized metal targets shifted left and right at randomized intervals.

"Aaaannnd, there," Simonova said with one final flourishing tap on the keyboard. "Go wild, Yongsan. Try not to have too much fun."

Speaking of having too much fun... Simonova's gaze drifted over to an active warning on her monitor for Harland's simulation. Blinking block text read RESTRICTED AREA over his status, prompting her to switch over to his video feed. A swathe of targets over his ETA's path returned as DESTROYED.

"Hey, flyboy," Dr. Simonova said, flipping over to his communication channel. "Nice moves, but the zero line is that way." A ping appeared on Harland's HUD redirecting him to the start of the firing line, distance steadily ticking up.

"Trying to impress a girl, Harland?" Simonova smirked as she jabbed. "Or are you bored of my tests already?"

---

It was true, Vidal was no therapist. In fact, the captain had a pretty hard time reading people (much to the humor of his peers in the SIG). That being said, Vidal had very little shame either. If he didn't understand someone and their motivations, he wasn't beyond just asking.

"I have a good idea what she would say already. There were plenty of pilots like her in my class, too," Vidal replied in his ever-flat tone. There wasn't a hint of malice or anger to match Selfie's irritation. "They're the best of us: patriots, guardians, peacekeepers; but you don't strike me as the democracy-loving type."

Vidal paused. The unmistakable rumble of nearby ETA thrusters rolled over the sheet metal walls and roof of Hangar 12. That was odd. Sanctuary Point was only supposed to receive inbound units for the rest of the day for refueling and resupply. Those thrusters sounded like they were taking off. He ignored it for the time being.

"There's millions left that didn't make the same decision as you, Nikan. They kept running and hiding, seeking the next shelter away from danger. What makes you different? Why not run like the others? Why fight?"

Vidal was expecting an answer, but only moments later, the piercing wail of the base's emergency alert system reverberated throughout the hangar. Even within the simulation, the cadets could easily discern the difference between the pod's audio and the alarm outside. The technicians monitoring the pods looked over to the doctors and Vidal like a herd of deer caught in the world's largest pair of headlights. The doctors and Vidal in turn exchanged glances with one another, tangled in the confusion. The unmistakable rumble of distant ETA thrusters grew louder and louder, until at least three distinct craft screamed directly over the hangar.

An attack? An exercise?

"Captain! Was there a drill scheduled for today?" Simonova shouted over blaring klaxon and the roar of jets. She was already working on activating the emergency release on the simulation pods. The program abruptly terminated, stopping the cadets in the middle of whatever task they were working on. The screens blinked to black, then the doors hissed open to the sight of technicians nervously following the rumble of thrusters with their gaze.

Before Vidal could rack his brain for any scheduled scrambles, an earthshattering THUD THUD rocked the ground next to the hangar, followed by the whine of idling engines. It was the sound of two ETAs landing hard on the now-splintered concrete just outside. A sudden blade of sunlight split the artificial dark of the interior as a massive ETA-sized blade pierced and gouged a 10 meter long scar along the sheet metal of the hangar wall with a sickening groan. At the very worst angle, it was evident enough the pilot had missed their mark and caught Hangar 12 in the backswing. Debris from the impact showered the simulation room with sparks and chunks of corrugated steel. The gash offered a thin view of the scene unfolding outside to those willing to brave the shower of shrapnel.

Vidal's training kicked in. He grabbed both Simonova and Minamoto by the back of their necks, pushed the two beneath him and shielded them with his back. He felt a spray of tiny debris hit the back of his jacket, but nothing that did more than break a little bit of skin. Good enough, but that was close. Now, just what the hell was happening?

Spoiler: GM Note, Please Read!

Re: Remembrance , Zahzi , simj26 , Kameron Esters- , FabulousTrash , The One Eyed Bandit , welian , YLVillain , The Regal Rper , Mechking , fluticasone , pendog

The simulation has been terminated! Inside, the hangar is a scene of chaos. There's still some debris falling, and there is clearly something happening outside. Respond accordingly, as you are free from the simulator pods.

 

[Zahzi]

Hannes Krieger Haber
Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base
Nearby: ALL
Disposition: "...I just had to open my mouth...."​

Krieger wanted to question why the simulation terminated in the middle of the evaluation.
Were they changing the scenario due to variables, or perhaps they had bad enough error with the system? Did someone spill coffee directly on the servers? Did Simonova spend too much data on the targets and the system froze? Did Vidal get jealous of Harland's display? Did Minamoto come up with more human rights violations to try?

The list of possibilities went on and on in his head shut down immediately as hundreds of pings began to transmit through his head. The lack of organic material in his person made it convenient for every upstart from what was left of Raytheon and Lockheed to just shove in there. Rude Americans being rude as always... Well, it was convenient here. Before the pod even opened he had a clear idea of what was happening out there. His hands twitched as the pod was still unlocking, several parts in his wrists clicking before a rather hefty blade shot forward from the forearm, carving into the wall of his cockpit, until another click retracted it back as he stared out into the chaotic light once the pod finally began to open- too slowly to his own liking.

Both hands reached forward, forcing the pod open far more violently than intended, the servos in his limbs clearly in sync with his own mindset. This was not the time for patience. He lurched forward in a manner that didn't have the same careful mannerisms he had on display this morning. The amount of effort he took to not scare the others in calm times was considerable, even if it was unnoticed. Within seconds he loomed over the trio of the group's superiors, staring down at Vidal, his eyes glancing down at, or perhaps through, Simonova and Minamoto for a moment.

"Kapitän, unlez you have zpezific orders, please zee to zheir zafety, unt ze zafety of ze noncombatants?" That sounded off. It wasn't his usual friendly tone.

It didn't sound like a suggestion.

 

[Kameron Esters-]

Moraes U. Coaling - ARES Program Day 1 - Evaluation 3, Moonbase Arclight
In the confusion and clamor of the alarm and the abrupt termination of the simulation, Moraes's training took over. His instincts, honed through countless drills and real-world engagements, had him out of the simulator pod almost as soon as it hissed open. The sharp clatter of debris and the menacing groan of tortured metal were all too familiar sounds of a battlefield, though unexpected in what was supposed to be a controlled training environment.

As he steadied himself amidst the chaos, Moraes couldn't help but feel the adrenaline kick in, that familiar rush that came with imminent action. The situation was unclear, but the sounds outside suggested it was more than just a training mishap. His eyes darted toward the thin slice of the outside world visible through the gash in the hangar wall—a quick peek could give him much-needed context.

Taking a calculated risk, Moraes edged closer to the gash, using whatever cover he could find to shield himself from potential hazards. Peering through the narrow view provided by the damaged hangar, he saw the silhouette of two ETAs, their engines idling with a menacing whine. The pilots had obviously executed a rapid deployment, but the clumsy, almost frantic landing indicated that this wasn't a planned drill. The damage to the hangar seemed accidental, likely a result of the pilots' rush to respond to whatever threat had prompted the scramble.

Moraes's mind raced through possibilities. An attack? A drill gone wrong? Or something else entirely? His focus sharpened as he assessed the immediate area for threats or instructions. With the simulation cut short and the base seemingly in disarray, standard operating procedures would dictate checking in with command for orders or assisting in securing the area.

Turning back from the gash, Moraes moved swiftly back to where Dr. Simonova and Captain Vidal were. The latter seemed to have things in hand with the doctors, but the cadets were a different story. In his role as one of the more experienced among them, it was partially on him to ensure they stayed calm and ready to follow instructions.

"Stay sharp and follow protocol," Moraes called out to the other cadets, his voice firm yet calm over the blaring alarms. "Gather near the emergency exits and await further instructions. Do not engage or exit the hangar until we have confirmation on the situation. Safety in numbers."

As he directed the newer recruits, Moraes kept one eye on the activity outside and another on Vidal and the doctors, ready to assist with any medical emergencies or debris clearance. The situation was volatile, but with proper management, they could avoid unnecessary panic or injuries.

 

[pendog]

《 Paris "POLARIS" d'Alarie 》
〈Location: Hangar 12〉〈Status: Woah!!! Cool sword alert!!! ...My head also hurts, for some reason.〉
〈Interactions: Who...?〉〈Nearby: Wait, is that Captain Vidal?!?!〉​

---

【 September 2nd, 2037 】
【 Novosibirsk // UGN Main Headquarters (Formerly: City Trade House) 】

"〔Sir Commander, Sir.〕"

"〔Lieutenant Mikhail. I am told that you have a report for me. From Unified Command, I hope?〕"
"〔That's...that's right, Commander Sir! Unified Command has contacted us to report that Pilot-2478 has survived the last of her surgeries. They were pleased to let us know that she has avoided Total Rejection of the Shell, and has entered the recovery phase. If there are no objections, Unified Command has recommended us to allow Pilot-2478 to recover in their facilities, rather than have her travel back to Novosibirsk. 〕"
"〔Good. I have no objections. Do you have anything else to report to me, Lieutenant?〕"
"〔Yes...Commander, Sir. There were still—there, ARE—erm, complications. With Pilot-2478.〕
"〔...Lieutenant. I am already aware of this. Is there anything else to report?〕 "
"〔You—You were, Sir? But we just received this report 10 minutes ago—〕"
"〔Both I and this...Mi-ya-moto. The woman who gave birth to ARES. We both knew there would be problems with a girl like her. And yet, even still, Unified Command did not protest when we offered them the girl France so loves. They said nothing as they welcomed the girl with open arms. There was always a mutual understanding there would be...inevitable complications.〕"
"〔But...Sir! To get to the heart of the matter, Commander...though Pilot-2478 has brought us significant renown in the EUNATOCA bloc—most of France already thinks that she should be removed our ranks. Forcibly, even...to go join EUNATOCA like a bloody patriot. Would the Gunrunners's public image not be damaged, if it comes out that we might have killed their Maid of Orleans?〕"

An eternity passed in dead silence.

"〔...Be it a decade into a successful career. Be it during their very first sortie. Be it even during surgery. A pilot's job, in the most simple of terms—is to die for the sake of humanity. And do you know what our job is, Lieutenant? Our job is to make sure their lives, until they reach that point, remains...productive. That is why we accept anybody with open arms. Even, yes, the undesirables. So that we might extract as much value as we can, from as many as we can. Do you see where this is going?〕"
"〔Yes, Commander.〕"
"〔Whether she dies to this ' shell ', to a Starfallen, or to her own brain...the swift death of any pilot is only but an eventuality. More than that, it is their duty. Rest assured, however, that your fears are not unwarranted. You are correct. France may never contract us again if they believe that we ' killed ' their new star pilot. But you do not win by not playing the game, Mikhail. We either rest on our laurels—or we push her towards even greater heights while she still lives.〕 "
"〔...All to the end of humanity's sake, Sir?〕"
"〔All for humanity's sake, Lieutenant. So, then..."

"...tell me what's become of the Maid of Orleans.〕"

---

【 October 12th, 2037 】
【 Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base // Special Tactical Armor School // Day 1 】


Headaches, lethargy and drowsiness, vomiting...vision problems, and difficulty coordinating the arms and legs...

For the last month of her life, Paris hadn't felt alive.

...Was it even a month? Or was it longer than that? Maybe it was months. Maybe a year. Or maybe—maybe it wasn't even that long at all in the first place?—and maybe she was just losing her sense of time and the days were each just stretching on into infinity...their starts and ends becoming part of the same blur within her head. Until it felt like a month. Or maybe it was just a month. In the end, it was impossible to tell one way or another. And it hardly mattered.

The passage of time didn't dull the feeling of her slowly drowning.

Not actually, of course! Her lungs were far too well-trained to go up and fail her THAT easily. It was just, well...everything else that was starting to fail. Like her head...pounding against the inside of her skull. Pulsating. Again, and again, pounding against her head like it was out of space in her skull, pounding like it desperately needed to crack it open to escape...waves of dizziness coming and going as the migraine tried to kill her from the inside out. Tut...like she needed ANOTHER part of her brain trying to do just that! But then, there were her limbs. Heavy. Heavy like they were chained down with a million kilograms of lead. Her every command slow, imprecise, delayed. It was a miracle she got on her clothes this morning without assistance...but even the meals were beginning to become harder to eat. Funny, that; an ETA pilot who could barely focus enough handle her own spoon. Which brought Paris to the real problem, here! It all came back to her mind. The thing they poked and prodded around in. It was that, in particular, which felt like it was underwater. Suffocating. Nowadays, every word that was spoken to her felt...distant. Like she was hearing it from the other room. Their words slipped through her grasp—as did her own thoughts. It took Paris everything she had just—just to follow. To shamble along at the very end the group. To try and sluggishly do as she was instructed to.

But none of it registered. None of it was happening to Paris. Paris wasn't there. Paris was drowning, deep within the confines of her own mind.

And when the Class got up from Mess Hall, making their ways to Hangar 12, she wasn't able to remember the path on her own.
(...Zhat being said, if zhey continue, ze bhullzhit, let me know.) (You call me a child, but there's a 5 year difference between us.)
And as her number danced from 1 to 3 to 10 to 5 to 2 to 1 to 4 to 7 to 4 to 1 to 9 to 1 to 5, the screens blinding her as the number rapidly changed, again and again and again, she wasn't able to grasp the absolute confusion of the scientists around her.
(Her readings are all over the place...!) (Tsk. Poor girl probably got rushed by her PMC before she could recover.) (What's the worst way to hit on an ETA pilot?)
And when Paris was sent to the one place! The place she had risked life and limb to see, the place only SHE could possibly be prepared for—when she got as close as she possibly could to living out her one, her only dream...!—She remained still. Unmoving. Not even engaging her Shell's Neuropathic Uplink...like she was already dead in the cockpit. To be honest, it wouldn't have been amiss for one of her classmates to outright assume that she was just part of the simulation's scenery. Paris wouldn't be able to blame them.
(Someone isn't forklift certified.) (It kinda feels like walking back at home.) (The rest of you can fuck off back to looking on, and pretending like you're worth anything.) (Please guide us all on the best path forward.)
And as all the scientists came to their conclusions; that she was clearly dysfunctional, that she obviously needed more time to recover, that a bunch of Mercenaries shouldn't have been able to brute force her way into being a part of Class 2037F to begin with—she couldn't blame them, either. Because she couldn't even muster up the thought that she shouldn't be here. Because Paris wasn't there.

Her score continued to destabilize further. And her Neuropathic Uplink remained unstarted.
And when Hangar 12's wall CRACKED open and shrapnel began to FLY and a chunk of rubble size of her fist came BARRELLING towards her head she didn't move—she couldn't move—she wasn't in control of her body—

—(CRrRACK!)
It smashed right against her forehead.
It was lucky that all it did was break apart on the impact, sending the lethargic pilot recoiling back into her pod's seat as she was struck. "—GhnH—!" And as she hissed in pain, her hands instinctively moving towards her injury...something began to slowly drip down her forehead.
Blood.
The entire world spun around her.
Her vision was blurry, her eyes instictively watering up from the pain of her head injury. Her hands, now wet and sticky with warm blood, shielded her face from the sudden breach of sunlight—it was too bright. "ᵍʰ..." Her ears were ringing. Blood pounding in them as her head swirled. There were voices. There was the familiar whirring of an engine. "...h...euh...? Euh...?" There was....there was...

Her brain suddenly clicked back into place.

"—O-Oh...my...Dieu...!—" There was clarity. "That sword—it's MASSIVE! "

Just like that, the mental fog that had been drowning her days, for weeks, for an entire month, was gone. Like she was finally waking up from a long, long dream...

...And all it took was even MORE brain damage! But Paris didn't care about that. Right now, "Aahh, j'adore!" She didn't really understand what was happening—because, to be honest, she couldn't fully remember how she got here in the first place! Or what she had been doing at all before this—! "Ç'est une masterclass!" —But goddamit, Paris had her priorities. And, no! Those priorities did not concern her bleeding head. Or figuring out what was going on. Or why, Captain Vidal, the war hero, was right across from her looking like an anemic deer caught in the headlights. Or even the cause of the gigantic hole in the wall! No. "Absolument magnifique...!" The first order of business was adoring this FINE piece of work in front of her! Everything else could come after. You didn't just find another greatsword-enjoyer ANYWHERE, after all! And so, Paris finally re-awakened—a bright smile on her face, and her arms stretched out to embrace the sunlight now dawning on her from the breach in Hangar 12. And blood dripping down her chin.

 

[FabulousTrash]

​

Kyo Yu-Ni | "Yongsan"
Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base - Hanger 12

Interations: Paris ( pendog )

​

"Gamsahaeyo." (Thanks)

Dr Simonova's comments went unanswered as Yu-Ni dialed in her targeting sensors. Hatches on the circular pods on her ETA's back opened up, revealing the warheads of her anti-tank missiles. While they weren't as substantial as unguided rockets, they made up for their precise strike capabilities and explosive yield.

Several lock-on symbols appeared on Yu-Ni's HUD, moving in sync with the targets before her. Her finger was just about to pull the trigger when it paused, the sound of an alarm filing her cockpit. But it didn't sound right. It sounded muffled, like it wasn't part of the simulation.

In the next moment, her pod went dark, abruptly disconnecting her from the SNU. At the same time, the sound of metal tearing and crashing down could be heard. Yu-Ni reached forward, pressing against the test pod's doors at the same time the techs popped it's emergency release. Her eyes squinted as it adjusted to the natural light, which wasn't there when they first entered the hanger. Along with it was the sight of falling debris and the blade of the ETA poking through one of the walls where the light was coming from.

Yu-Ni had no time to question what was going on. Right now it was about making sure everyone gets to safety. Some of the other cadets were already out of their pods and doing the same thing.

"Move, move! Take cover over there!"

She ushered the techs and other non-combatants near her towards a side of the hanger where it was relatively safe, before looking around for others caught out in the open. Her eyes eventually found a white-haired individual with blue highlights. Was she another cadet? That answer could wait, as Yu-Ni noticed the unmistakable red liquid running down her head. She ran over, grabbing Paris by her arm and pulled her away and towards cover. Her free hand reached up and pulled her hair back to check on the severity of the head wound.

"Now is not the time to stand and freeze. How's your head? Can you see fine?"

As she examined Paris, Yu-NI's eyes couldnt help but glance towards the gaping hole that was left in the wall of the hanger. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to see what was going on outside.

(hidden scroll ↓)

 

[simj26]

2nd Lt. James Harland

Harland booted the pod's door open, his handgun already in his grip. In the darkness of the pod, the groans and grinding of the unseen world outside were all too familiar. Not a drill. Not a joke. And yet, here he was, with no fangs to bite down on his prey. He scurried across the area, dragging any leftover pilots in their pods out and shoving them towards the rallying of Moraes. Finally, some people were actually taking charge.

Just leave it to him to bring up the rear. No one's dying this early. Not on his watch.

He finally found his way beside an injured pilot and the Korean pilot. The former wasn't looking too hot. His gloved hand took hold of the young woman's chin and the helmet studied her eyes. Dazed, far away look. Head injury? Concussion? Blood from the head, so likely. Not good.

He turned his helmet to Kyo. <<We'll assess their functionality and patch ‘em up later. Kyo, arm around her, keep up with Moraes. Evacuate the premises. I'll make sure no one's left behind.>>

With those curt instructions, he looped around their cover and ran one more check across the rest of the pods. Adrenaline from the gunsmoke and the rattle of his autocannon in his right arm still flowed through his veins. It should be enough to carry him through this.



Interacted directly with:
FabulousTrash pendog

 

[YLVillain]

Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Base - Hangar 12
Interactions: simj26 (Harland), Coin (Captain Vidal)
Mentions: pendog (Paris), FabulousTrash (Kyo)

Cy had been laying still for a minute or so. He heard the voice of the program director ring in his ears addressing his vitals. He wanted to answer, he normally would've, but he didn't this time. His mind was lost in the stars above him. He had never seen so many before in his life, even if these ones weren't real. Living in the city wasn't that accommodating for stargazing due to the light pollution. While it had only felt like seconds for Cyrus in this moment, minutes had past and the simulation was cut off. "Al'ama" he whispered to himself.

Then, in an instant, all of his discomfort was transformed into a strangling pain. The lights were still dark so he couldn't see well but he could feel everything. He reached down to his abdomen and was stopped by something cold. He felt around and could feel warm, thick liquid towards the base of the cold, foreign object. Blood. He slowly reached to feel behind him and that's when he realized he was pinned in place. He was only able to feel the same material and shape extruding from behind him. He was impaled. Cyrus tried to make out the shape of the structure and started feeling in front of him. He ended up reaching the door of his pod in the process. Not only had he been impaled through and through, whatever it was, also was keeping the pod door pinned shut. After assessing his situation, he noticed that while he heard some sort of chaos happening outside his pod, none of it was directly towards his pod. Technicians weren't scrambling outside to get him out and he was stuck inside.

Cyrus had put his faith into the system and unfortunately, it's not the system that was failing exactly, but something far greater. Cyrus knew better than to take the foreign object out of himself as he didn't know what could have been hit, and didn't want to start bleeding out when his physical wellbeing wasn't guaranteed if he got himself out. Cyrus focused on his current objective of getting out, and had an idea. Albeit, this idea was a terrible, it was the only thing coming to mind at the moment, and he didn't exactly have time on his side. In a lapse of judgment and through the pain, he pushed himself back into the pod as far as he could so he was against the wall, sliding along the metal object. Luckily for him, whatever it was, it wasn't sharp on the sides, so he wasn't cutting himself anymore which was an optimistic point he had to work with for the time being. His back against the wall, he braced himself and tested his mobility. He could get his legs up, albeit very painfully. Being impaled would've been one thing, being exhausted too made things all the more difficult. Knowing he had to get this right, he put all he had into one strike so he could spare having to contract the muscles in his abdomen as much as possible. Cyrus counted in his head, and felt the fire roaring all over his body. 1... 2... 3. He booted the door with his heel and felt a budge but also a drag as it pulled on the metal object. Fortunately the door stayed open partially and let some light in so he could see. One more try. He positioned himself, mustered his strength, and kicked one more time. This broke the door free but also dragged him out at the same time. He heard a snap as he crashed out of the pod onto his side.

When he was out of the pod, he had to collect himself. He looked down and saw the snapped metal pipe still poking out of him. He looked back up at his pod and saw the other half of the pipe snapped, barely hanging off the door. In that same area, he saw Harland doing a once over of the pods. Turns out Cy was one of the last ones out, which makes sense given his situation. Cy tried to move to get up on his own but Harland, making sure nobody was left behind, helped him up. Cy believed that Harland's intentions were to evacuate him but after looking around, seeing the gash in the wall, hearing the fighting of ETA's going on outside, and all of the administrators ducking for cover, Cy felt his second wind hit. He urged forward and felt a pulse throughout his whole body. "Yakhsaf allah bih al'ard," he grunted to the pipe. He felt how Harland was trying to redirect him but Cyrus ripped himself away, successfully this time, and began jogging for a few seconds before outright sprinting. Even in this state, with his size alone, Cyrus could still outrun some of the others.

Cyrus ran over to stand between the administrators, the captain, and the gash in the wall. "Captain, do what you need to do to give us orders. I'll make sure nothing happens to you nor the doctors while you do so. Please ignore my condition for now, that can be remedied in due time, right now please take advantage of the opportunity to command us without concern for your own safety or the safety of the doctors." Cyrus knew that his size had advantages and disadvantages. In this case, it was both good and bad that he was a larger target that could be used to cover others more fully. "Reprimand me later for disobeying any orders to abandon you and the doctors. I refuse to leave you and them until everybody's safety is guaranteed." The second wind was in full effect for Cyrus, as he could barely feel his injuries or exhaustion anymore. He was burning his time fast, so while he had it, he was going to use all of it. He's always been there at the end of the fighting, he'll be damned if he finds himself on the day where he's out before the dust settles.

 

[pendog]

《 Paris "POLARIS" d'Alarie 》
〈Location: Hangar 12〉〈Status: Getting it together.〉
〈Interactions: FabulousTrash 〉〈Mentions: Harland, Cyrus, Moraes, Krieger, Vidal & Minamoto〉​

---

"—Wuh—?!"
Just like that, Paris's sword-admiring session was over—courtesy of someone dragging her away without any warning! And yet, as Paris turned to look at whoever her knight in shining armor was...she couldn't...she couldn't recognize who this was. Not even as a face she might have seen in passing.

Minor lacerations. Major bruising. Nothing felt fractured, but a bruise of this size meant that a concussion was likely.

—As a matter of fact! Now that she was looking at quite literally anything else EXCEPT the dangerous hole in the wall...Paris couldn't recognize ANYBODY in this room. At all. And there was WAY more people here than she expected there to be in the first place! There was...eighty...? No, there was at least a hundred or more scientist-types and probably-mechanics all scrambling over each other to get to the other side of the room. Among them...there was a soldier who immediately caught her attention, too. Barking out orders that she couldn't process with the blood still pounding in her head; with the ringing still hissing in her ears. And there were cadets (well, she was assuming they were, anyways), too, all stumbling out of...what the heck were those, escape pods? There was even a cool-looking android guy! Hovering over...

...Hovering over a pair of faces she finally did recognize. Every ARES candidate knew Minamoto's face—and every human on this planet probably knew Captain Vidal's! It was actually kind of impressive how he managed to look even MORE sickly in-person. Though, if those two were here... "C'est...?" ...Just what the hell was she—?

A constant state of being dazed, inattentive, unfocused. A distracted gaze. A lack of response.

Ah. "—?!" A sudden shudder ran down her spine as a gloved hand took her chin. Paris hadn't even...goodness sake, for how long had her savior been holding her head? And had she said anything to her? And when a second cadet get here?!—Good mercy, the noises... "...Ah, uhm—m, merci! Mademoiselle...monsieur..." ...They were only starting to sink in now. The rising panic of the crowd. The roaring of the alarms. The loud commands of the soldier above even all of that. And the unmistakable WHIIIRRRing of an ETA's engine. As the ringing in her ears finally began to fade...so did the seriousness of the situation finally begin to process in her brain. So did the weight of what was happening finally sink in. Gods, even right now—there was another cadet who had been left behind. He looked...badly hurt. Some kind of stab wound—a deep one at that, too. And there was helmeted cadet from before, helping him too.

This was no time to be goofing around. Even IF cool swords were involved.
Sure, Paris had no idea where she was right now! Sure, Paris had no idea what she was even doing here to begin with! But that didn't matter right now. First off... "Ah...no, I'm—I'm doing just fine! Really. I mean, of course, it...ahah, it stings a little, but...!" For now, Paris could start with just a reply. By looking her savior proper in the eyes this time, Paris forcing her best and brightest smile onto her face. "Cest pas la mer à boire, no? You'd do better to just focus on not getting left behind. After all—" Paris quickly spared a glance over to the serviced ETAs across the room, "—It'd be a shame if I didn't get to thank my knight in shining armor after this. So, let's move!" And now, it was Paris's turn to grab Kyo's arm! She wasn't quite the same knight in shining armor, but...Paris had to at least show that she could keep up with the evacuation efforts on her own. Because if she didn't understand what was going on—she could tell that everybody was doing the best they could in the current situation. So she had to do the same.

 

[Remembrance]

AX-8 | "Eight" | Arcade
Priority: First Law
Interactions: Coin
Mentions:​

The simulation cut. All that remained was darkness. For a split second, Eight believed the test had ended prematurely. As the casket opened, blinding light flooded the pod, confirming their suspicions. The pod and hangar had been a low-light environment, a space of controlled shadows, but now harsh, glaring light was seeping in.

Eight rose from the pod with simulated panic, but this time, the panic felt real. Danger was everywhere, permeating the air like a tangible presence. But this time, it wasn’t a simulation. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning electronics, and the sound of distant explosions reverberated through the hangar.

The cycles in Eight’s cortex synchronized, kicking their half-cycler into full gear. Buffer modules and filters opened wide, flooding their mind with data from the surrounding chaos. Every sensor blared warnings, and every circuit hummed with the intensity of a system on high alert.

The processors in Eight's cranium strained under the load, processing the deluge of information. They had to accept the harm that had occurred during their absence in the simulation. They hadn’t been there to prevent it, so it couldn’t be a violation. This was what Eight had to convince themselves of. The hangar had sustained severe damage—the kind that doesn’t result from faulty engineering or construction. Gaping holes revealed a sky choked with smoke, and debris lay scattered: twisted metal, shattered glass, and fragments of machinery. Blood from wounded engineers and assistants pooled on the ground.

Alarms rang incessantly in Eight’s skull, a cacophony of alerts that made it difficult to focus. Safety had to exist somewhere. The question was whether it was within the confines of the hangar or outside in the unknown.

There were several ways to tackle this situation, each fraught with risk. Every decision seemed to lead to the same grim outcome; it didn’t matter which one Eight chose. However, information was half the battle. If the situation would end the same way regardless, the logical decision was to find a solution that led to another solution.

With steeled resolve, Eight directed their gaze toward the slash in the hangar, a jagged opening torn through corrugated metal and supports, to see what lay beyond their future metal coffin.

 

[Coin]

"What's happening!?" Dr. Simonova screamed over the dreadful crash and collapse. She was sheltered from the brunt of the harm, but still covered in a spray of dust.

Vidal didn't know exactly what was happening, but he did know that they were in the danger zone just a moment ago. If they just stood there, it could only get worse. He needed to move Minamoto, then Simonova off the X immediately. He spared just a moment to gather his surroundings and was relieved to see Krieger already at attention before him. Great, a sentient hunk of metal like Krieger was a perfect shield for the doctors. When a wounded Cyrus lumbered into view shortly behind the cyborg, Vidal was less enthused.

"Negative, Haber. You just volunteered for security detail. Abadie, you're not condition green -- eyes up and stick close, we'll get you patched up as soon as we're out of here," Captain Vidal let go of Simonova but held firmly onto Minamoto's collar, ensuring he could pivot and cover her from any stray shrapnel again.

He unholstered his sidearm and glanced back to the cyborg. "Both of you are on me. Haber, Simonova's safety is in your hands. Let's link up with the others and organize for a retreat."

"Does anyone see anything?" Minamoto called out from practically underneath Vidal.

The captain glanced over to the gash in the wall that they were quickly gaining distance from. It was too far for him to see anything in the chaos, but he did note that a few of the cadets repositioned in more advantageous positions.

---

Yu-Ni could spot the first ETA from her position deeper in the hangar. Just beyond the scar was a slate gray EUNATOCA T-1 Storm, bearing heavy battle scars and the insignia of the beleaguered 3rd Pacific Fleet. One arm was missing, and the remaining brandished a standard issue tactical sword, of which its chips and notches numbered in the dozens. On the pauldron of this arm was its callsign, DAFFODIL.

<< You used us as bait! >> Daffodil called out over his wounded ETA's PA system. The voice betrayed the pilot's age; someone that young shouldn't be piloting a machine like that. << You damn cowards, you ran! >>

For Moraes and Eight, hazarding for a closer view revealed the object of the firebrand navy pilot's ire was another ETA: a third generation RCSTO-flagged SB-37 Barsuk in a striking digital blue camouflage pattern. Its thrusters flared as it hovered just slightly above and out of sword range of Daffodil. On its pauldron displayed the callsign TIGR.

<< Are you going to stand down, or do I have to put you down? >> Tigr responded in a thick slavic accent on his ETA's PA. The shoulder-mounted autocannon of the Barsuk folded out to point its twin 30mm barrels down towards Daffodil. Two belts of ammunition fed into the autocannon's breach, unmistakable bright yellow tips of fragmentation shells loaded for bear. Perfect for finishing off maimed ETAs.

Daffodil brought his ETA to bear and dashed sword-first towards Tigr, who responded in kind with the hammering drums of autocannon fire. The shells slammed into the remnants of Daffodil's armor, bursting into a fiery spray of shrapnel in the form of shell fragments and armor spall. Moraes and Eight who had managed to witness this exchange in full were at greatest risk of being peppered by the barrage.

---

A pair of technicians in dusty labcoats scrambled their way over to Harland, Yu-Ni, and Paris. The first pleaded in vague gestures and points while the second called out in fragmented thoughts, "One's stuck! Pod won't open! Just 'round here!"

Following their frantic expressions and flagging, indeed one pod had tipped on its stand and its door held shut. Presumably, the pilot was trapped inside.

The sound of more ETAs arriving overhead further added to chaos. A muffled ETA PA could be heard beyond the sheet metal roof overhead, << Daff! Stand down! >>

Spoiler: GM Note, Please Read!

Moraes and Eight, you've got some extra info, but you'll have to act in order to avoid getting showered by the fragments. If you missed the last posting cycle and want a free catchup, one character can be the pilot stuck in the pod. It's first come first serve. Ping me on Discord or something please.

Re: Remembrance , Zahzi , simj26 , Kameron Esters- , FabulousTrash , The One Eyed Bandit , welian , YLVillain , The Regal Rper , Mechking , fluticasone , pendog

 

[Zahzi]

Hannes Krieger Haber
Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base
Nearby: Vidal, Simonova, Minamoto Coin Cyrus YLVillain
Disposition: "New parameters acknowledged."

​

Krieger looked between Vidal, Simonova, and Cyrus. Vidal had simple lacerations at worst -Simonova had not suffered any injuries thanks to Vidal. But Cyrus on the other hand seems to have met the business end of carbon steel. It would be unwise to remove the object at this point and time. Especially without surgeons on standby. Humans, even the hardier ones, are fairly fragile from the inside...

A few clicks cut through the chaos around them after Vidal's orders were registered. He looked back down at Simonova once more before nodding.
"Underztood. Ze guht doctor vill be zafe unt sound. Keep ze bad doctor from harm, zhen."

His eyes darted back to Cyrus, nodding toward his wound.
"Doctor Zimonova, please do not hezitate to uze me as cover from danger. You are zmall enough to avoid harm zhat vay. Herr Abadie, please refrain from awkward pozitioning unt abrupt movement until ve have had your rezent....'Addition' extracted from your perzon. Ve vill zee zhtrough zhis togezher."

His normal tone seemed to have returned for a moment as he addressed who he considered a civilian, along with his wounded compatriot, before returning to its harsher, current tone.
"On your move, Kapitän. If zhis iz indeed an attack, I vish to return zheir zentiments in zpades."

His left arm twitched, the blade inside his wrist shooting out and covering his hand. He glanced down at it for a moment. He remembered when he was being told what his new body was being equipped with. He was...Skeptical of their efficacy. Why bother with small arms fire, or close-range weaponry when 10-meter tall machinery is the more common response to their intended target? Sure, there were smaller Starfallen; drones that scuttled around like pests and went where their larger cousins couldn't, but at the end of it all, was it worth the additional weight? Today, he felt it was. Whether or not it was going to be used for its intended purpose was unclear just yet.

But spite always served a purpose. ​

 

[simj26]

2nd Lt. James Harland

<<Dammit!>> When it rains, it pours. Debris and wreckage, in this instance. <<Kyo, Seasalt, keep moving! I’ll check on the pod!>>

No time to waste any further. He could only trust in Iceman to lead the blue Seasalt to safety. The other pilot was his main focus now. No man left behind. Whether it was his desire to die, or just his muscle memory of being a soldier, it didn’t matter. He had to save as many as he could.

He scrambled over towards the fallen pod. Fallen on its side, door pinned shut. He had to shift it somehow. Instinct, and pure idiocy from consuming glue led to him slamming his body against it, his hands pushing and pulling against the heavy construction. He felt it give slightly, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t no strongman, he couldn’t shift this fucking thing by himself.

<<Fuck!>> He stepped back, glancing around him for something, anything, to use as a lever. The destruction of the training grounds, thankfully, had provided him with more than enough instruments for such a task. That was all he could ask for. Seems like his cursed luck was starting to peek through the dark clouds again. He picked up a piece of rebar, torn from its foundations by the attack, and jammed it into the gap between the pod and its blockage, and pushed.

<<C’mon, move, you piece of shit!>>



Interacted directly with:
FabulousTrash pendog

 

[FabulousTrash]

​

Kyo Yu-Ni | "Yongsan"
Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base - Hanger 12

Interations: Paris ( pendog ), Krieger ( Zahzi )

​

Yu-NI's eyes immediately shifted to the sword-wielding ETA as she was being led by Paris. It wasn't hard for the seasoned pilot and soldier to understand what was happening. There had been plenty of times within her pervious units where squad mates went after one another for things that happened in the field. But for Yu-Ni, that was also what separated the good from the bad - being able to understand why things happened and not taking it personally; what happens during the op stays with in the op. By the looks of the damage Daffodil had suffered, it was a rough op as well.

Yu-Ni twisted her wrist free of Paris's grip, her free hand nudging her forward.

"Keep going, I'll be right back."

Changing course, she began running towards the opening in the wall as Daffodil rose back into the air, poised to fight the other ETA above; who responded with their own aggression in the form of firing off one of their weapons. Fragmentation rained down on the people below. If this wasnt ended soon, people would die.

"Krieger!"

She called out to the robotic man who was with Captain Vidal and the two doctors. As she ran, Yu-Ni pointed towards the ascending ETA belonging to Daffodil.

"Help me get up there! Just trust me!"

There was no time to explain her idea, and Yu-Ni had no idea if Krieger would be willing to help. But he was the closet pilot to her, and hopefully he had a trick up his sleeve to boost her up. What was the plan? To anyone who had a moment to think about it, they would call it suicide. But there was no time to think; only do. And Yu-Ni was pretty good at that.

(hidden scroll ↓ )

 

[Zahzi]

Hannes Krieger Haber
Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base
Nearby: FabulousTrash
Disposition: "Talk about ze qveztioned efficacy unt ze volrd takes notice."

​

Krieger looked down to his his compatriot Yu-Ni, requesting his assistance. For brief second he glanced down at the others, questioning if she could see he had his hands full, but understanding what her request was, it became clear why she came to him. She was a smart one!

"Underztood." He responded, his torso twisting in a fashion no human body had any business going as his right arm rose to point at the ETA in tandem. His right eye blipped from its standard appearance to a single pinpoint, focused on the shoulder of the aggravated pilot's mech.

"Compenzating for reziztance....Already zhis is a better tezt zhan zimulation. I zhank you for ze actual challange, Yu-Ni." His hand gave four distinct clicks as it twisted counterclockwise until a magnetized disc presented itself.

"...Firing!" The disc was fired at a similar force of a rifle, making it's mark onto the ETA, a wire falling behind, before being drawn taught from its target to Krieger's arm.

"I vill not be able to accompany you, but fret not.." The hand split down the middle and retracted from the wire, revealing a handle with a trigger on the end, pointing down to Yu-Ni.
"..Zimply pull ze trigger vhen prepared to make your azent, unt I vill dizengage ze line vhen you are vhere you vish to be."

 

[Kameron Esters-]

Moraes U. Coaling - ARES Program Day 1 - Evaluation 3, Moonbase Arclight
Moraes quickly assessed the unfolding situation, his eyes locking onto the two ETAs outside—one clearly EUNATOCA, the other RCSTO. The confrontation was escalating fast, and the incoming autocannon fire from Tigr’s Barsuk threatened to shred the damaged Storm and anything in the vicinity. The young pilot, Daffodil, seemed reckless, driven by rage or desperation, while Tigr showed no hesitation in using lethal force. This was no drill.

Moraes's instincts kicked in. His primary concern was getting himself and any nearby personnel out of the line of fire. The sharp retort of autocannon rounds and the subsequent explosions were unmistakable signs of imminent danger. Shrapnel and fragments from the assault could easily penetrate the hangar, turning it into a deathtrap for anyone inside.

"Incoming fire! Get down!" Moraes shouted, his voice cutting through the noise.

He dove behind the nearest sturdy cover—a support pillar near the hangar's interior. The pillar offered some protection from the blast wave and shrapnel. He crouched low, bracing himself for the inevitable impact. His eyes scanned the immediate area, noting the positions of the other cadets and personnel. They needed to regroup and make a coordinated exit, but first, they had to survive the next few seconds.

The hangar shook as the autocannon rounds impacted Daffodil's ETA, sending a shower of sparks and debris in all directions. Moraes felt the tremor through the ground, the sharp whine of metal being torn apart, and the hot sting of shrapnel flying past. A few stray pieces clattered against the pillar he hid behind, a grim reminder of how close they all were to being caught in the crossfire.

Breathing heavily, Moraes quickly peeked around the pillar. The scene outside was chaotic; Daffodil’s ETA was taking heavy damage, but the pilot seemed determined to close the gap and engage Tigr in melee. The potential for collateral damage was high, and Moraes knew they had to get the situation under control fast.

"Cyrus, Eight, get anyone who's exposed under cover! We need to secure the area and prepare for an evacuation if necessary," Moraes called out, his voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through him. "I'll try to communicate with the others! We need to stop to stick together before it escalates further!"

With the immediate threat of shrapnel mitigated, Moraes moved cautiously, keeping low and using whatever cover he could find. They needed to regroup with the other cadets and ensure everyone was accounted for. The technicians' cries about a trapped pilot only added to the urgency. They had to get everyone out of harm's way and figure out a strategy to handle the hostile ETAs. As he moved carefully, using the hangar's machinery and structural supports for cover, Moraes’ scanned the area for any exit. If there wasn't one, their best bet was to stick to the side walls given how wide the hangar was. If the doors burst open or if the roof comes down, it'll be at the center of the hangar, which would give some decent enough space from harm. Hypothetically speaking.
Coin YLVillain Remembrance