Kensington only shrugged once more and took another sip of his drink, the last sip before the doctor went away to his own business. That had left the pilot alone to observe the others for a half an hour or so before he himself got up and excused himself from the friendly environment, making his way towards the briefing room where he had left his bag so to take the bag and himself to a vacant room. He didn't even bother with the contents of the bag as he tossed it on the floor and plumped himself on the bed to drift off to a deep sleep.

It seemed everything else for the past few days were dull and just simple exercises for the pilot. He even thought of the lack of action to be as great as boot camp. To him, there wasn't much of a danger factor anymore. It was just like his days as a cadet in training. That all had changed on that fateful day where Silver began briefing the team on a new mission involving a convoy and some banditry out and about. Like expected the pilot was given the overwatch and standby for calls duty, and he didn't complain, as long as they kept his skies safe from anti air, he could keep them safe from any tricky courses of action or any ambushes conducted by the bad guys. This is it. Finally something we can work with instead of those simulations. The pilot thought, then something came across his internal thinking and he brought that idea to his voice. "Eh.. Should we have a surplus of meds in the chopper? If we are goin' to get down there an' pick up some hurt folks we gonna need more than just a stretcher and the usual first aid stuff, eh? And another question... Should we be outfitting the helicopter with more supportive assets? Only got the chain gun right now, but we do got some of 'dem missiles and rockets.. I could ask the crew to fix me up if you give me the green light."

"Extra medical equipment would be a good idea, yeah," Blade replied to Ken. "Let's hope we won't need it, but if we do, then better to have it there. And yes, you'll be fully kitted up for combat. The ground crew will be uploading missiles and rocket pods to your heli as we speak".
Nodding to underline his statement, he turned back to the briefing screen.
"That 'bout does it fer the Q&A session. Final things ta note, people, before I dismiss y'all to begin prep. We'll be splittin' inta groups again. Ken, y'all will provide overwatch an' rapid response. Captain, yer fire team will investigate th' Crawlers as a priority, an' then move based on anything ya uncover, or anythin' the GEAR teams encounter. As we've had a few drop-outs, accidents an' transfers followin' trainin', we're operatin' with reduced numbers fer the meantime until we receive new pilots. So, we'll be down ta three teams a' two GEARs an' one team a' three fer the larger objective of th' centrally placed residential area. Everyone'll be tooled up fer general purpose engagements and max mobility, since we'll be spread out. Each duo of GEARs will investigate one a th' three landmarks I mentioned. As our numbers and GEARs have gone a bit all over the place, I've tried ta balance out the team, but like I said; we gotta make do. So; Team one will be myself, Mike an' Kuraiko. Team two will be Myrina and Arcade. Team Three will be Adrian and Aiden. This sorta makes a balance of scout an' GP GEARs in each unit... sorta... but it should work anyway, what with equipment swapouts an' such. Anyhew, Team One has the residential area, as it largest and most built-up. Team Two the irrigation facility and Team Three the Copper Mine. All the relevant details for each site have been uploaded to your PADDs. The procedure for the mission will be to recon each site, an' as soon as y'all encounter anythin', break away and raise the rest of us to converge on yer position to engage in full. If y'all are overmatched from the get-go, Ken'll back y'all up so ya can withdraw, an' the Claw will be on hand to provide long-range missile support an' all, but as stated earlier: we won't have overwatch from satellite, nor normal radio comms, only LOS comms. So, any fire support will be on a delay, and kinda laggin' behind. Most of our heavy weapons will be 'organic'."
"Once we identify the correct site, we neutralize or engage as much of the opposin' force as poss, and then the Captain can move in under cover fire, secure an' extract the hostages, while we cover th' extraction and then take care of any remainin' forces. Our job will be ta give 'em fire support an' heavy weapons cover as they perform th' extraction too".
He checked the time index on the screen. Under three and a half hours until launch.
"All right, y'all have yer orders. Go get yerselves ready; RV in the Hangar for final checks in two hours from now, then launch at 16:00 hours precisely. Amelia, stick behind so's you an' I can discuss th' tactical sitch an' our options in event of SHTF and th' like. Rest of y'all, dismissed!"

Aidan wrinkled his snout a little for not receiving a direct answer to his question, but judging by what colonel Blade told Ken, he came to the conclusion that he should also pack up an extra bag with provisions and medical equipment; with that in mind, Aidan brought up his PADD to create a to-do list. He managed to add a couple of things down on the list just when his PADD flashed, receiving the details regarding the copper mine he and Adrian were to investigate; he skimmed over the photos and technical data, thinking he will revise them a bit later. He wasn't sure how he'd fare with a sniper unit on his side, but it couldn't go that bad; sure, it could be amusing, since both of them are trained to hang back and act only when their aid is needed. For now, he had to discuss some issues with Ken and Adrian, so, after the colonel gave his final directives and dismissed the squad, the canine immediately approached Ken to pat his shoulder to get his attention, greeting him with a smirk.

"Fun times ahead, huh? I'll pack up the extra medical equipment, maybe I can throw in some rations for the guys that are still pinned down. Don't worry, it'll be very basic stuff, like skin/tissue adhesive, bandages, sterile gauze, IV packs, a pair of tweezers, gloves, antiseptics, maybe some gunshot wound sponge syringes. I'll prep the stuff and send it to your Hawk ASAP." When he was done, he patted the pilot again and searched for Adrian, while still adding some more items on his list. After a few near collisions with the personnel aboard the landcruiser, the doc found the hare he will be working with on the field. With another smirk, he greeted him and extended a hand.

"Not sure we were properly acquainted: Aidan Sykes, the doctor guy. I guess I'll rock a 20mm for today's job and take point; it will be interesting, I'm a bit too used with staying behind and jump in only when someone gets hurt. Uh, I should mention a certain thing: if anyone in the team will need me, I'm afraid I will have to move out and assist, leaving you on your own. I know, we could send Ken over, but the whole process of maneuvering a chopper for a land, hop off and treat the guy comes with too many risks and problems. I will try my best to return as quickly as possible, but yeah, I had to warn you about this just so you wouldn't be too surprised with seeing me buggering off. Alright, with that out of the way, how do you think we should approach the mine? Have you hang back and scout the place and me going in and check the place up? Maybe you have a different idea?"

With the issue quickly discussed, Aidan hurried with the list to the pharmacy and handed the PADD to the first guy he found there; he had to wait a bit for the guy to pool up all the stuff and organize them in a duffle bag. Aidan took advantage of this brief time to inspect the data he received about the copper mine; he only just managed to visualize the place in its context, relative to the map layout by the time the bag was ready. He nodded and smiled to the pharmacist, threw the bag on his back and headed for the storage area, hoping to grab some a-rations and, luckily enough for him, the people there were already aware of the task, so they willingly gave Aidan enough food for the convoy crew. If the situation was tragic enough, though, there would be no problem with returning the goodies to their place. While the box with food and the bag were carried to the chopper, Aidan took a quick trip to the armory to get his equipment for the field: a M-57 PDW with a holographic sight attached on the top rail plus five mags 50 rounds each, his standard issue handgun with five mags and the black carbon steel knife. Next came the pilot overalls fitted with the combat vest and armour pads, sling for the primary weapon, gun and knife holsters, ammo pouches, his special pilot helmet and a desert camo cover for Aidan's DATMK. He quickly equipped his gear, loaded both the PDW and the handgun, filled the ammo pouches and quickly tested the helmet's special functions. Once he was sure he had everything in check, Aidan jogged to the hangar and straight for his GEAR, where the techies were waiting for him.

"Standard load-out: 20mm main, 12.7mm swivel on left-side and pod on right." The DATMK was placed on a table nearby, Aidan swiftly approached it to perform a quick checkup, even though the last one took place the other day. He skimmed through the list and checked for the items securely strapped inside the large bag:

Leukosan Adhesive

Sterile gauze

Bandages, varied in size

Antiseptic sprays

Epinephrine

Morphine

Anti-histamines

Tetracycline

Hydration salts

Surgical kit, I trust my tweezers and scalpels didn't become sentient overnight

IV packs

Syringes

Gunshot Wound Sponge Syringes

Furosemide

Loperamide

Purple sterile gloves... why does it always have to be purple?

The list went on and on, but once he finished the quick checkup, he still had forty minutes to kill. He snapped the camo cover on the kit and carefully handled it to the techies to load it up in his GEAR. With that done, Aidan considered he should enjoy a quick sip of coke and maybe a few crackers before he'd jump in the GEAR; thus, a quick visit to the cafeteria granted him with a can of cold of pure, distilled kidney failure and a packet of dehydration to eat. He placed himself on the table and chucked in a cracker along with a quick sip of coke, allowing himself to settle down for a bit and think over what he had to do next. He wasn't all that excited about the task, but neither did he dread it; he felt very neutral towards it, even though the squad's number of people dropped significantly over the week. All he could do now was to keep his wits about, keep his cool and be on alert on the field.

Kensington nodded with a slight smirk when given his orders, "Don't I always sir?" He said with a sense of confidence before falling silent again to listen to the rest of the colonel's instructions. When the briefing came to a conclusion the wolf took a moment to glance around before getting a pat on the shoulder, the pilot casually turning around to face the doctor who began speaking to him. The senior airman simply nodded and adjusted his bandanna before following the doctor out, only breaking away to head towards the armory. He was one of the first there and seemed to be alone on that matter, but it didn't really make a difference since there was work to be done. The man simply received his handgun and light AR then thanked the quartermaster and that was it, leaving him no other choice but to go go his child; his lovely helicopter.

The trip to the hangar was a smooth one with only a few greets here and there with the other crew members as the pilot looked over his handgun. The gun was like a phone and it distracted him to the point of almost running into the door when he reached his destination, but when he realized it was there he quickly holstered the weapon so to step inside the hangar, his tail slowly swaying left to right with a mood of patience in its movement. "So! Everything's alright to roll?" He asked the nearest crew member, receiving a nod and a thumbs up in response to his inquiry. He could only thank the man then climb into the helicopter to inspect its contents before heading up to the pilot's throne. There, he started her up and prepared for his takeoff as he grabbed his helmet that laid on the dashboard. "It's show time."

During the party:

As Amelia carried herself off her stool and walked towards the door Oliver could not help to notice her tail elegantly moving along. Most of the girls the tiger had met in the military where rather masculine but Amelia was different. She knows what she is and was definitely not afraid to show it. From all the girls in his unit, this fox was without doubt the biggest price you can score and Oliver was only a couple of steps away from it. The tiger could feel his blood pumping. This would definitely be great night.

As Oliver moved towards the door he could see three men wearing military police uniforms enter the canteen. For a moment they looked around until one crosses eyes with the tiger. For a moment they stared until the MP pointed and two of them started to walk towards Oliver. He sighed as the two officers approached him. He instinctively knew that he was in trouble, again. "Private Oliver Stone? You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law" Spoke one of the officers as he pushed Oliver against the bar and cuffed his hands on his back.

Oliver sighed again as he let himself get handcuffed. He knew that there was no point in resisting at the landcruiser as there is nowhere to run. The tiger turned over to Amelia and spoke "Looks like the party is over for me. When I get back i'll show you the place" Said Oliver as he give the foxy lieutenant a gentle smile.

Breifing end

"Alright, Nethanial and Naida. Pack two kits, sniper/rpg and short range. NO explosives. I don't want damage to the interior, but I want to have the ability to cover our GEARs if the need arises. Edward. Prep the ATCV and stay with it. I want the vulcan fitted to the roof, and the rumble seat covered with angled armor. We will have civvies to transport, we need the space. Make requisitions as you see fit. We'll deal with the rep crews when we get back, I doubt they'll be happy with your modifications. Drop your long range gear at the ATCV, then meet me at the chopper. Get going."

The fire team jumped to their respective tasks, Nathanial and Naida jogging towards the armory. The tiger glanced down at his teammate "What do you think, shotty or smg?" The fox shrugged lightly "I don't think you'd like the kick of a shotgun. You'd bruise yourself." She joked, before sobering "SmG, easier to reload and in such close quarters the size will help as well." Nathanial chuckled as the turned the corner into the armory "Yeah, who wants to date someone who's damaged?" He shot back, smirking as they got to work getting their respective load-outs.

Edward saluted his captain, dashing out the door with her and turning opposite the other two, with the captain grabbing a pack with a foot soldier's basic load-out beside the door. Half way to the hanger, he asked "Ma'am? You've never asked for the vulcan before. What trouble do you think is there if you want to be able to pierce heavy tank armor?" The feline CO glanced over her shoulder, answering "Normal bandits don't have GEARs most of the time, and I doubt the recon has a full report of all the vehicles they have. I want to have the ability to kneecap any GEARs we meet during extraction, and it'll work for light armor as well, if not better."

They reached the entrance to the vehicle bay, and Edward saluted again "Yes, Ma'am. I'll whip the crew to finish the modifications before go time." Before he rushed off, yelling at a few engineers to him. Esailia watched him a moment, still a bit amused at how much the shy, quiet Edward could command so much attention once he was in an engineering bay. Those on duty snapped to and scrambled to obey Edward, as if he had a general's cap on his head instead of welder's goggles.

Esailia started off again, jogging through a few more corridors. She was just about to reach the doors of the hanger when she stopped short and keeled over in pain, holding her stomach. She began coughing uncontrollably seconds later. The feline captain was in this position for a few minutes, hopefully with no one finding her in that time, before she wiped her lips with the back of her hand...leaving a crimson trail on the fabric. She looked at it a moment, recalling a similar image from long ago. She shook her head and rubbed the stain in until it was barely visible, scolding herself for her lapse in concentration. She headed into the hanger, slowing her pace to pull out her PADD and examine the details while she waited for her team.

Adrian was one of the first to leave, given his aversion to crowds of long muzzles and bushy tails. It wasn’t long into his business that one of said long-muzzled, bushy-tailed squad mates found him. He exchanged greetings with Aidan, shook his hand—and discretely wiped it off on the inside of his pocket—and listened. Adrian stood silent, propped up against the wall as the gears in his head turned. “I’m gonna think on it for a little,” he slowly said. Not that he was stumped by the relatively simple questions he had been asked. There was simply one thing on his mind that commanded his attention to the point of distraction. “I’ll find you,” he said to Aidan as he started back to his bunk.

In his small room, Adrian stood with an equally small book in his hands, flipping over the pages as he read over the tiny scribbles he had penned into them over the years. One of the last entries read, ’Unidentified, Sex unknown, Unidentified GEAR, COD – 40MM + shrapnel to the face @ 1467yd.’ He pulled a thin, metal pen out of the binding, scratched a dark line beneath the entry and wrote down the date of his mission. Prepared for any new entries, he stowed the pen away in its binding home and stuck the book in his shoulder pocket. Guess I should go find Aidan soon.

===
“Hey, battle buddy,” Adrian said as he slipped into a seat across the table from him. “About the mines, I’m not really sure what we’re dealing with. My worry is that it might be somehow, something other than the standard, wasteland strip-mine. If it’s a hole in the wall, I’m not sure what we’ll do. It’s not what we’re expecting.” He crossed one leg over the other and leaned against the table. “Even if it is an open air deal, it’ll probably be a pretty steep drop in some flat ground, so I doubt we’ll see any of the lookouts before they see us. If that happens well—“ he shrugged, “Mission accomplished, I guess. If we can make it to the rim, I don’t want you going ahead of me. My GEAR’s kitted out for mid to long range combat, so if there’s anything in there, you probably won’t have to get your hands dirty.” It was a sound strategy to Adrian: do all the work, use help when required. Even if this transformed the objective into a one-man job, it would be more than a little foolish to discredit the buddy system after all of his encounters with its benefits. Especially in cases where only the most direct forms of communication were feasible. “Besides, with only LIDAR and charades, I don’t want to get too overzealous. If we can’t see each other clearly, we can’t talk to each other. If we end up having to spread out, I’ll take point. Your use extends beyond shooting guns at people.”

Kitsune Peril was awakened by a swift flick of Arcade's haptic gauntlet. The metal giant rose from her knight-like kneeling position, and then stood there rigidly, as though she were a hardened sentinel poised to assault would-be trespassers that possessed enough gall to challenge her.

Long before, Kitsune Peril, and a few select others of her ilk, had risen to lively animation with the turn of a switch and the ensuing piercing whine of an exceptionally powerful--yet surprisingly compact--turbine engine. Relative to Ruthless, the thought was a mental throwback to a sort of 'Golden Era' for Kitsune Peril's model type, where conventional fuels and rudimentary generators were the only viable solutions for feeding adequate levels to the heart of a GEAR of her specific caliber and nature, where heavy hydraulic cylinders, bulky pumps and hydraulic rotary motors bestowed upon Peril great physical strength and the capacity to don the heaviest of battle plate; the sounds of locomotion signifying potency and resolve, the booming roar of an autocannon filling enemies with a sense of dread and impending doom.

The nostalgic memory was a pleasant one for him, for he had spent considerable time reading old manuscripts and watching archaic video logs that delved into the relatively brief yet impactive history of GEARs and GEAR-related technology, and how these engineering marvels of pristine martial might eventually came to be valued assets to any serious military campaign. The advent of suitable technological advancements had restricted the old war engine to a dull purr however, a dense and robust power cell of unmatched sophistication and craftsmanship seeing to all of the suit's energy needs and desires.

From books to the cockpit. Arcade mused to himself. Ha! The irony is just a practical joke I swear.

To afford himself an unrestrained view of the vehicle bay, the king cheetah had left Peril's cockpit door open, with the noises of busy combat and noncombat personnel alike feeding him a contentious stream of acoustic information.

Inner-cockpit still exposed, Arcade commanded his GEAR to assume a traditional fighting stance. Metal creaked and clattered at the sudden motion.

After rolling her shoulders and loosening the muscle fibers for action, he took a few jabs in the air with Kitsune's armored fists, paying mind to the bustling motion all around him within the vehicle bay to avoid a possible accident. Each blow sent an audible woosh through the air, the movements awkward and jerky due to the GEAR's bulkier-than-average armor and heavily-reinforced joints.

A hand placed upon her right hip and fauld concluded Peril's brief warm-up session. Her pilot opted to embrace his inner slacker, though; two feet were propped up against the edge of the opened torso, while two furry hands comfortably motioned their way the back of an equally-furry head.

Amelia looked back as Oliver was stopped by officers and was about to interject and demand what they were doing here when the tiger spoke up, causing her to stop. "I'll hold you to it" she replied with a small smile before she turned and continued on her way. She spent the rest of the night observing the others and talking with some of the other crew members. Though she decided to have an early night as she knew they'd be woken early tomorrow and would need to remain focused. At the briefing Amelia sat with a pen and paper, writing down the important details as she took notes on their mission. Anything which stood out would be underlined and anything which she'd need to account for was given a little star next to it. When Blade mentioned for her to remain behind she gave a single nod, "Sir" she replied, remaining in her seat as the others left to prepare themselves,

The dog lost track of time for a little while as his brain constructed a soothing pattern of the ever so annoying crunching sounds of him eating those crackers. At some point, his absent-minded state was interrupted by a stranger's voice calling him a "battle buddy", forcing a jerk from Aidan's head as he tried to identify who was calling for him. He quickly identified Adrian slumping down on a seat across the table; the doctor noticed his rather defensive attitude towards him, but he considered not to investigate it yet. It would most likely distance the hare even more.

"Hey, friend!" he casually greeted Adrian with a quick smirk. His attention shifted from the hare to his crackes and then back to Adrian. As he started to speak about his take on the situation at hand, Aidan leaned in his head to pay close attention, his eyes pinned to the ground. Every now and then he'd nod his head as a form of courtesy, to show Adrian he was listening and paying attention to him. He took mental notes of Adrian's strategies and processed them through, trying to come up with suggestions and ideas of his own; by the time the hare was done, Aidan shifted himself on the table to prevent his right leg from going asleep and chuckled lightly.

"Good thinking, it'salways nice to have someone smart on your team. Hm?" he gestured to his packet of crackers and extended his arm to offer them to Adrian. "Want some?"

He chewed some more on Adrian's words and swallowed them down with a couple of chugs of coke, finally coming with a few words.

"Well, if push comes to shove, I could tear the mining building a new one with my scramble rockets; maybe I can level a few sectors to the ground, some of those structural pylons looked a bit weak. But things could get severely complicated in case those guys got creative and took prisoners; if that's the case, I guess we pull out and dick around while the convoy gets tortured and raped- oh, sorry, I meant to say: we wait for orders.

Either way, you have a strong point: we will be the first to be spotted if they took advantage of their... uh, advantage. They will open fire at some point, we get pinned down if we don't put a move on immediately. Where dowe move? Pull back and lose the momentum, go sideways and risk getting separated and picked individually, charge in and face face a CQC situation, or at best, some breathing space since they wouldn' expect two nutters to push forward? Gah, I'm waaay overthinking this. I just hope everything runs smoothly and that we get to shoot some ass without us getting hit." He concluded with a mild frown.

Blade sat on the edge of the desk after the others had shuffled out of the room, and looked to Amelia with a nod.
"Thanks fer stayin'. You've really shown your tactical know-how over the last week or so of trainin'," he started with an approving nod. "Yer a reliable asset, and yer GEAR is one as well. That borne in mind, what recommendations have y'all got fer this situation? Given we're operatin' wi'out much in th' way of recon or support due to the location and local Geomagnetic conditions." He glanced at the map and back to her, studying the other elegantly poised vulpine with interest in her opinion and keen mind.
"I'm pretty sure y'all are gonna say splittin' us up was a bad plan, but given we got hostages an' they're already in the clutches of the bad guys, locatin' em quick is our first priority. And it's ain't like we can't cover the distance between targets once we uncover the location of the captives... Just give me a rundown of any more suggestions. I'm interested in your input on the scenario".

Kensington seemed rather slouched in his seat as his helicopter sat on the helicopter pad with propellers running. Sure it might cause issues relating to fuel and energy, but to him he would rather be ready to hit the skies than be scrambling during a call. During the calm before the fight he was doing a lot of mental preparedness and reflecting, thinking over the worst case scenario for any pilot. Maybe it will happen today.. Will my friends beable to get to me? What if the bad guys have good aim? These swirling thoughts managed to overwhelm the airman with worry, but he was easily able to combat the negative thoughts with positive ones. Eventually the wolf went ahead and adjusted the microphone on his helmet before holding down the transmission button to speak on the frequencies. "Comm check, Comm check this is Ken checking comms. Anyone able to respond?"

Esailia had just walked up to the helicopter, giving a nod of greeting to Kensington before she spoke into her advanced headset "Read you, pilot. Report on status, and someone get my fire squad on their comms, get them to report in!"

In the vehicle bay, one of the techies flagged Edward down, tapping his headset. Edward had been directing and helping with getting the extra arrmor onto the ATCV, but he did notice the waving hand in his direction. Nodding, he wiped his hand off on his jump suit before flipping his radio on "Test 1 3. Test 1 3. Private Edward of the firesquad reporting in. modifications almost complete, we'll be wheels out ready in less than an hour."

Just before Naida and Nathanial, fully geared, were leaving, one of the supply officers caught them "Message just came in, someone on the mission is calling on the comm. Your CO wants a report on your status." The pair looked at each other, and tapped their own headsets on "Yo, Sargent Nathanial and private Naida here, just leaving the lovely supply officer with our gear. We're heading to the vehicle bay to drop off our secondary kits, ETA to chopper ten minutes or less or your money back."

Locating the helmet’s power switch wasn’t an issue, but attempting to sift through the assorted ranges of ambient radio channels that milled about in the air made quite the daunting endeavor. The helmet was a more recent and relatively dissimilar variant of the older GEAR pilot helmets that were in service during Kitsune Peril’s prime, with Arcade’s habit of forgetting the smaller and finer details of life—like fragments of his GEAR pilot’s technical training— not doing him any favors. Within due course, the king cheetah connected himself to whichever transmission signal that was blaring greetings at him. He didn’t bother to look, but determined that speaking first made for a superior option.

“Ah! A voice!” Arcade exclaimed. His helmet rested in his hands, with the microphone pointed towards his face and mouth. “Kensington—or Ken is it? I saw you in the briefing room when the boss was revving everyone up for the up-and-coming mission.”

Kuraiko stayed behind and walked to Amelia, seeing as she was one of the two he was working with, he felt talking to her would help in figuring out what's going on. "So...I guess I'm working with you and and Arcade...So any advice on how I should prepare?" He wasn't keen on asking for help, but it may save his hide in the field, so he'll make due. "I just really don't wanna botch my first mission..That wouldn't look too good now would it?" He sighed and looked around. He wasn't a pro socialite, but he was doing his best, and working well with his squad mates will be what determines his success in the Roughriders. He hoped that he would one day head the charge that would be carved into history. The only feelings he had told him that Blade, would be the man that helped him get that far. So every moment he gets better with his squad mates, the better he will get in general. Something about this group, the variation of it, yet the raw talent and skill pulsed from this...One could say ragtag group rather brightly. Everyone did their role, and did it damn well. Training showed that clear as the morning sun. Everyone hear had a big future ahead of them, and Kuraiko was damned proud to say he would fight to his last breath to make sure each and every single one saw their futures through to the end. So this first question, may be what sets all that in motion, and he'd better not fail.

Silverwind had made his way to his quarters, and donned his GEAR pilots' suit, moving quickly after his meeting with Amelia. Following this, he'd confirmed the last details with the captain and other senior crew of the Landcruiser, before signing out his personal weapons and survival equipment from the quartermaster, before heading for the hangar bay, well due for the launch time for the op.
Already, his GEAR was stood waiting. He saw that one of the newer members of the group, one of the two who'd joined only the week before, had their GEAR on the move already and was putting it through its' paces under the watchful eye of the techs. It wasn't a surprise; the machine was the oldest in the unit. The Peril-class of GEAR had been the predecessor to the Harlock-class, and they were beginning to be replaced themselves. It was more than unusual to see a Peril outside of support or training corps, let alone on the front line. But on the other hand of it, Arcade had shown he knew how to handle his machine, and between the split of GEARs and equipment in the unit, they were in a position to maximise the machines' strengths, and cover it weaknesses. As it was, of course, with all their machines. After all, no GEAR was perfect. And neither was any pilot, despite many people he'd seen act or claim to the contrary.
Abandoning the line of thought as he turned away, the one-eyed fox gave a thumbs up to the rabbit technician at the foot of the Harlock as she grinned and gave a casual salute.
"All ready for you, sir. We made sure everything's checked, tuned and adjusted as much as possible. And we even vaccumed the seat and changed the air freshener."
He chuckled slightly and gave her a nod.
"I know you'll have done a great job as always. Thanks for all your work. I'll try and make sure it comes back in the same condition too".
She chuckled back and raised an eyebrow. "That'd be a first, sir. But good luck".
Chuckling and swishing his tail, he climbed up the hand-and-foot holds to the GEAR's cockpit, and secured himself to the linear frame chair, after donning his helmet. A handful of switches, and the hatch powered closed and sealed with a hiss, before the instruments came to life, the big panoramic screen warming up to show a 270-degree view of the outside for the entire height of the hatch, and the array of controls at his left and right hands coming to life. Moments later, his visor display filled with overlaid icons, and tags appeared on the screen display to boot.
The hum of power throbbed from the powerplant on the GEARs' back and through his seat, and a series of green icons and a pleasantly neutral female voice informed him that all umbilicals were disconnected.
Taking up the slack on both joysticks and in the linear frame, the GEAR seemed to straighten up as the electron-muscular fibres contracted with power flowing through, and Silverwind took a few steps, the GEARs' feet thumping against the deck-plates, moving to stand alongside Arcades' machine.
"Ready to move out?" he called over to the other GEAR through a laser-linked line. "Just gotta wait fer all the slowpokes ta get here"

Kensington kept a hand on his headset as he listened to the radio come to life with responses from a the other two, and one of them seemed to be rather new with a voice he hadn't necessarily heard before on the radio. "All green and ammo is plentiful. I am good to go for anything that wont get me killed... Scratch that I might get careless if ya know what I'm sayin'. " The pilot replied, chuckling before he continued. "Maybe you could try one of 'em direct connection things with your pal?" With that being addressed there was time for the airman to make a few messages that weren't necessarily following procedure.. The radio was usually for serious messages in a mission, after all. "Who that be that called me out? Yeah this is Ken alright we gonna get in there and show 'em banditos the definition of an ass whoopin'. Eeh.. The colonel's bot and radio ain't online yet.. Right?"

Adrian dismissively waved his hand. “This is par for the course on bandit business. They only look tough, because they pick on civvies that’re even worse fighters than they are. Like, sure, one or two might have had some formal training, but picking on lightweights makes them way softer than they think they are. We’ll have to see exactly what things look like once we get on the ground—weatherman’s hardly ever right—then we can decide how to handle it. Hopefully without having to do too much work.” He chuckled and steadied himself against the table as he turned away. “Anyway, it’ll be gotime soon, so I’m gonna make sure everything’s alright in the hangar. Seeya in a bit.” Adrian stopped with one leg still slung over the seat of the bench and looked back at Aidan. “Oh, I probably don’t have to say about how that stuff—”he gestured to the soda can in Aidan’s hand—“Goes clean through you. Just saying, don’t forget, no outhouses in the badlands.” Adrian slipped away and melted into the halls of the cruiser as he traveled to the GEAR bay.

---

“Anything different today?” Adrian asked the crew chief as he set up to scale his GEAR. The buck shook his head.

“After what you did in the past drills, I’m afraid of what might happen if we make you use anything else.” Adrian rolled his eyes as he opened the hatch. “We did give you a few auxiliaries—extra ammo, a little flare launcher, beer keg—“ The mention of alcohol being fitted to his GEAR caught Adrian’s attention well enough that he nearly lost his balance and tumbled to the bay floor.

“What?” He shouted dumbly as he pulled himself upright and clung onto the edge of the hatch a little tighter than before.

“Care package. For the civvies.” A beat of silence hung over the L-68’s stall before Adrian spoke again.

“There’d better not be—“

“The extra ammo offset your GEAR, so we put a small tank of water on the other side as ballast,” The crew chief explained, placating Adrian enough that he could slip into the cockpit of his GEAR and run his startup checks as the crew cleared away.

“You didn’t really just…?” One of the technicians whispered to the chief.
“For a second there, I thought he was gunna have me take it off.”
“Isn’t there a regulation against that? Anything?”
“Regulation, shmegulation.”

Time to shine. Myrina threw on her suit and harness, checking in with the quartermaster before hoofing it to the hangar bay. This was the Roughrider's first non-training deployment; this was what they had prepared to do. The situation wasn't unlike occurrences she'd dealt with in the past - raids on settlements, convoys, you name it. It was all a part of serving along the border territories, strangled like a vice in the grip of warlords and irregular OPFOR units. Myrina would want to warm the others of a potential ambush at the location; there were multiple occasions of bandits waiting out curious search parties at their raid sites.

When she'd reached her GEAR, she almost didn't recognize it. SPC. Patterson had given her the list of modifications that were to be fitted to the GEAR, but the digital images didn't do the real thing justice.
"How do you like her, Ma'am?" Patterson appeared behind the GEAR's right shoulder, unbuckling the umbilicals at the rear of the machine.
"Friggin' incredible," was Myrina's answer. "It looks like a whole new machine."
"It almost feels like one. You've been reading the manuals, so you should know how everything works. She handles like a dream now."
"I'll see about that," Myrina taunted, already up the ladder and sliding into the cockpit. The cockpit's layout generally was the same, although some of the equipment necessitated new panels and switches. On activation, the serial number that flared across Myrina's HUD read "MCU-18CV: Subcommander Variant."
"Don't bang her up and make me refit this stuff," Patts called outside. "Try to keep it clean for just a while longer."
Myrina took the GEAR through the familiar start-up routine, flipping switches and testing each system before clearing 'green.' The hangar came to life on the panoramic screen, Patts running her through the checkup at the GEAR's feet. Myrina felt the machine shudder as the last of its umbilicals were yanked, and it stood without assistance on the hangar floor.
"All clear, take her out!"

Myrina eased her hand forwards on the throttle, rolling the GEAR on its sole wheels from the docking area and flashing a salute to the Specialist with the GEAR's free arm. She came to a stop besides Col. Blade and the other ready GEARs, giving them a nod from the Warlock.
"Ready to roll," she announced.

Aidan nodded his head slowly, his eyes locked on the floor and his mind picturing possible scenarios; he started to rethink about the tactical capabilities of badlands bandits since, like Adrian said, they couldn't pose much of a threat. They weren't northmen, few of them would have any kind of formal training and Aidan knew it. Yet, he could only think of the worst case scenario.

"Yeah, you're right, they're stupid. But stupidy can overwhelm us if there's a lot of them." He said with some concern in his voice. "We'll see."

Then the hare commented on the dog's chioce of food and drink; Aidan shifted his gaze from the floor to Adrian and then at his coke and crackers. For a second he worried about his own digestive system, but he shrugged most of his doubts off and finished the pack of crackers and the seemingly toxic soft drink. But, as a safety measure, Aidan took a quick trip to the latrines before returning to his GEAR; he had to swim through the crowd of military personnel flooding the hangar in order to reach back to his own Dartwing, but lucky for him, it did not cost a lot of time. He still had a few minutes before go-time, yet, he preferred to storm up the ladder latched on the cockpit. Once inside the rather cramped box - which would be considered spacious compared to other GEAR models - the dog reached for the back panel, where he released the lock on the latch securing the DATMK; he rummaged it's insides, only to produce a small bottle holding 50 2mg Imodium pills, popping two of them. If Adrian was right about the drink, the doctor certainly preferred to suffer a slight constipation, rather than having to hold his bowels shut for dear life. With that done, he stowed away the PDW and the handgun, so they would not be a discomfort to him during the mission. He locked his kit back into place and crashed into the seat, which was stuck in a rather uncomfortable setting; he readjusted the seat so that his back was resting in a more comfortable, lower angle. His gaze darted to a pair of skunk ears popping from the lower lip of the cockpit; Aidan tilted his head to the left in confusion and once the pair of ears delicately placed his helmet on the floor, the dog tilted his head in the complete opposite direction. How could he forget about the damn helmet, he didn't know, but may the stars bless skunk-ears for bringing it up to him.

"Yo, thanks!" He blurted, trying to throw a glance at whoever it was. Catching a glimpse of skunk-ears, he determined that it might have been a female.

Aidan slumped back into his seat and initiated the first steps of firing up his GEAR; his fingers twitched back and forth, flipping switches back and forth to perform last second checkups before he'd release himself from the clamps holding the machinery in place. After twisting three more switches, Aidan pushed his thumb into the ignition button and held it there until the GEAR gave off a low hum and the interior lit up; he shut close and locked his cockpit, sealing himself inside the darkness of the chamber lightly speckled with the lights coming up from the buttons. Three seamless monitors lit up around him, showing the world around him through the lenses of the optics installed on the head-like appendage of the vehicle; he turned on his helmet and after two seconds, it synchronized with the GEAR's copmuter and now displayed a complex-looking reticle that followed the movement of his eyes, while remaining within reasonable limits of the monitors. He fitted his upper limbs through the linear frames, aligning his shoulder, elbow and wrist with the articulations of the systems, translating the movement of his own body into the GEAR's own set of limbs; he pushed his fingers into the gloves that would read the very intricate mess of movements his hands were capable of and finally, secured his feet at the pedals. Being in direct control of the vehicle, Aidan pulled the submachine gun-like autocannon latched on the GEAR's torso and pulled the bolt handle just to reveal a 20mm projectile chambered and ready to be fired; he made sure the safety was still on and proceeded to run some quick checkups for the scanners, the computer verbosely confirming that they were fully operational. Finally, he linked himself to the comms and, as expected, the emergency/mayday line would directly connect to him too.

Just then, Ken did a comms check, to which one of the new folk replied quickly, followed by the colonel and Myrina.

"This is Sykes, standing by. Squad, you should check if the emergency line establishes a link to my comms too, it's much easier for me to respond to any unfortunate contingencies on the field." He blurted as he started to micromanage all the tabs tagged with each squad member's name on his HUD, their name highlighting in green when they communicated. "If anyone gets hurt, or even if you just don't feel right, you are to contact me immediately. Heroes don't die of heart attacks, aneurysms or untreated bronchitis."

With a few final checks completed, Aidan relaxed his body and allowed himself to sink into the slightly worn cushions of the pilot seat and closed his eyes. He was ready.