“If that’s not an understatement, I don’t know [i]what[/i] is.” Adrian crouched down and leapt up, scaling his GEAR and slipping inside as quickly as he could.

The flip of a few switches and the turn of a key brought the L-68 to life. Adrian put on the helmet that had been so generously placed in the GEAR by one of the techs, and locked the ear cover into place. While a short series of diagnostic noises played, he reviewed the instruments on the dashboard, keeping an eye out for any irregularities. When nothing bad happened, he strapped into his seat and ran through his physical checks: hands, joints, optics, skates. The two weapons his GEAR carried were familiar enough; the automatic pistol was the automatic pistol, and his DMR retained most of its function, save for a shortened barrel. The ammunition itself was untouched, left as the standard load for all his weapons—anything with the strength to pierce a GEAR’s armor also had the strength to pierce the (temptingly) large windows of the city’s buildings.

“…lright. Kelsea here, all green,” he radioed as his GEAR assumed a ready position, rifle in hand.