Samigina - War Room - 0600 hours

Richard Bentz thumbed through the pilot profiles on his datapad, giving each one last look over before the candidates filed into the room. They were a diverse collection, hailing from Sardonia, Sodorya and Emarra, just to name a few. One way or another, they had found the Preying Panthers, or rather, the Preying Panthers found them. They'd soon find out whether they had the chops to be Panther material.

The former captain gave his adjutant a dry smile, setting the pad down and asking, “What do you think, Cecilia? You're going to have a larger team to manage now. I trust you to be able to handle them all.”

“They haven't passed the evaluation yet,” she scoffed, taking the pad from him and cradling it in her arm. “But don't you think this was a risky idea? Using this job as a test? What happens if they're not up to snuff and botch it?”

“They'd better not botch it, that's four million creds on the line!” Bentz laughed. “Using an actual op as an evaluation is the best way to measure their usefulness. If they're any good, they'll be able to handle it. Think of it like on-the-job training.”

Cecilia's shoulders slumped a little as she heaved a sigh from her nose. “And if they can't handle their weight, I'll have to whip them into shape for you.”

“Of course; that's what I pay you for!” Bentz looked down at his watch and jabbed a thumb at the door to the meeting room. “I think it's about that time.”

His adjutant turned on her heel and put a hand to the panel on the wall, sliding the door open with a hiss. On the other side, the handful of newcomers, along with some Panther veterans, sat in a small waiting area.

“Take a seat,” she said flatly, directing them to the chairs that were lined around the room.

The pilots entered, and Bentz watched them file in, matching the profiles he'd just read to the faces. He had high hopes for this crew; the Panthers needed the additional manpower after attrition had taken its toll over the years. With a larger and more diverse team, there were more opportunities to find suitable missions. Once they'd all been seated, Cecilia reverted back to her position at Richard's side.

“Good morning. I'm Richard Bentz, as many of you already know, and I'm the CO of the Preying Panthers. For those of you who are new to the unit, this is the third year of the Panthers' existence, and we're already ranked very highly on the charts. I expect only the best from each of you, and hope that, if hired, you maintain the unit's good reputation.”

Bentz flashed a small controller at the wall, bringing up a screen displaying a GPS-like map of major roadways.
“For those of us who are already Panthers, this will be a mission just like any other. For the new guys, this is your evaluation to see if you have what it takes to join the unit. There's a lot of money riding on this op, if it's any extra incentive. Cradle Dynamics has requested that we intercept a Paloka Industries shipping convoy, passing between New Lundregen to Kent.”

Bentz highlighted the route on the map with a laser and continued, “I don't know what's inside, but it's not a concern of mine, nor is it yours. All we've been told is the cargo is very valuable to Cradle and it is imperative we secure it. Given the importance of the cargo, it's bound to be guarded. You're free to engage the security force, but do not damage the cargo.”

As Richard wrapped up the briefing, the screen displayed stills of delivery vehicles with Paloka Industries' logo, presumably the target convoy.

“We're heading out in an hour,” Cecilia informed the pilots. “Until then, make any preparations to your FRAMEs and be ready to move. Any questions?”

Jason sits in the waiting area somewhat removed from the other pilots studying specifications and blueprints of his own FRAME trying to work out what aftermarket modifications to do to it. he needed cash to fund the mods, but he enjoyed how the FRAMEs worked. What he enjoyed more was the amount of damage one could do. while he was studying someone announced that they where allowed in, he follows the rest of the pilots and finds his chair.

Jason sits listening to the briefing and mulling over the details. while he wasn't a grizzled veteran or anything FRAME combat wasn't foreign to him either. he liked the idea of a trial by fire, it fit his particular idiom. Jason didn't know anything about the Panthers Reputation but neither did he especially care, simply he wanted to make some cash and build a real war machine.

“We're heading out in an hour,” Cecilia informed the pilots. “Until then, make any preparations to your FRAMEs and be ready to move. Any questions?”

Jason asked in a neutral tone "is this a payed test?"

Elaine had settled lightly on one of the chairs in the room at the prompting of the Panthers' CO. She was familiar with Bentz and his aide from previous missions, and so far everything seemed straight-forward. Scuttlebutt had said that a group of new bodies were joining the unit, and she was quietly relieved to see it was true. The Panthers had been under-strength for a while, getting things back into working order would be good for everyone involved.
The orange-haired slip of a woman studied the illuminated map with a practiced eye and absorbed the information, flicking her gaze between various points as Bentz explained the situation to them all. The nuts-and-bolts of the op were, as things went, one of the more straight-forward tasks she'd heard of, and that was something to be glad about. A few more specifics wouldn't hurt though, she reasoned.
One of the new pilots opened up with a question, and she listened for the answer, before speaking up herself.
"Do we have any information on the numbers and strength of the security forces?" she asked, her strong accent distinctive in the quiet of the room, burring on the 'r's' in her sentence and a slight smile of familiarity directed toward Cecilia as she asked. "I'd like to know what we're up against as much as possible before we head in, and I make any adjustments I need".

Edward was leaning on a wall of the waiting area looking over others who were there, his look lingering on one member he saw who was looking over something seemingly intent. While he was waiting he took one last look at his metal plate looking it over before putting it away again somewhat nervous of his first deployment on an evaluation mission in the Panther's ranks. Not long after, it was announce they were to come into the briefing. He took his seat and paid close attention to the briefing.

During the briefing he was already looking over the enemy strength and a little curiosity sparked of what could be in there for it to be guarded like that but he let go of that thought as it was not for him to be concerned over. He was determined to have this cargo secured along a place on the Panthers crew.

“We're heading out in an hour,” Cecilia informed the pilots. “Until then, make any preparations to your FRAMEs and be ready to move. Any questions?”

He had none at the moment but he made a point of listening to the questions through.

Harold "Juppy" Benson sat in the middle of the room, unusually quiet- he wanted to get a read on everyone else before he started talking. He didn't want to accidentally piss someone off to the point where they knocked his nose off, after all. Well, he thought to himself, he was only unusually quiet because HE knew that he usually wouldn't shut up, so it's really hard for anyone else to know that he's being unusual. Which meant that his first impression was that of a quiet loser who sat in the middle of the room.

Therefore! He must make sure they are all well aware of his personality. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the door opening, and their stern XO. His jaw, of course, remained open, and he just stared at her for a moment, before closing his mouth with an audible *clop*!

He heaved myself up from his chair in, perhaps, an overly exaggerated fashion, and then followed the rest of the recruits and vets into the next room, where they took another seat. He dropped into his with, again, a somewhat exaggerated fashion. And yet, he was all ears- he listened attentively, and asked away as soon as the other two had finished.

"I hope you'll allow me to get some more extensive command-and-control modules with a more specialized mech, soon, because I'm not much of a front line fighter. Not out of lack of skill, I'm just better at pointing out where things are goin' south, you know? And I don't mean command and control as me being in control, but rather me being the one that points out that there's a small horde heading towards one of our guys, and letting everyone know if enemy reinforcements are coming or anything. I'd be the spotter for airstrikes, you know? The one who watches the map and keeps everyone up to date, relays orders, request new ones. Tactical is my thing, and I suppose I see that you want to see if my fighting skills are good and trustworthy and- okay yeah I'll shut up now. Sorry mates."

He had leaned forward throughout his little dialogue, getting more and more into it, but when he cut himself off, he dropped back into it, taking a deep little breath.

Ryder sat with a stone cold expression in the waiting area among her fellow recruits. She was silent, completely silent as she awaited their CO. Other than the occasional blinking or tapping of the foot, she sat nearly completely still with a morose look upon her face. As one of the first ones to arrive in the waiting area, she found herself sending stares to each other pilot. Looking them up and down, subtly as she inspected them. This lasted a while before her thoughts began to wander.

Ryder's memories were clouded before her incident, so her thoughts switched to her FRAME. She was by no means an expert, but she learned the ropes and was battle ready, especially outside of the FRAME. Ryder's eyes flicked shut as she imagined being immersed in her Zaruga once more. This lasted mere moments, though, before two people entered the waiting room, but not from the same door the recruits had emerged from. Ryder directed her attention to the female in front as she spoke.

Ryder silently obeyed Cecilia's command, standing from her original seat and heading to take a seat near the front of her commander's screen so she could view it easily. She leaned her elbows on the divide in front of her seat, listening attentively as she soaked in the mission information.

"Cradle Dynamics has requested that we intercept a Paloka Industries shipping convoy, passing between New Lundregen to Kent.” Her Commanding Officer stated. Ryder looked to her belt as he did so, tapping a hand gently on the weapon holstered at her side. The mission could get dangerous for her fellow Panthers in an instant, and although they would be in their frames, she always felt safer with the weaponry at her side. Ryder paused for a mere few moments as Cecilia finished, waiting for anyone's questions to be answered and then hastily pushing herself to her feet and heading to inspect her FRAME for the mission without a word.

Isabella sat with the others in the waiting area and made good on the rooms intended purpose. Not that she waited patiently of course, she hated the downtime before the briefs or any downtime for that matter, and tried her best to keep herself occupied by scanning over the fresh meat. The newbies were a mixed bunch, homogeneity certainly didn't seem to be the Panther's MO if the people they recruited were any indication. The fact that the newbies were going on this mission made Isabella uncomfortable, she'd only been with the Panthers for a year but they'd at least given her a proper evaluation that wouldn't potentially kill her or result in a loss of profit for the company. The entire thing just seem needlessly risky, but considering the lack of veterans still kicking around the outfit, a trial by fire did make a certain kind of sense. Either way, its not my call, she thought and pushed her apprehension from her mind and went back to scanning the motley crew assembled outside of the war room.

The girl in the corner with the purple hair was interesting. She was strikingly beautiful, but what drew Isabella's attention was her mechanical arm. Its not often that people that young walk into a merc outfit, much less with replacement limbs. But Isabella supposed that she wasn't much older when she got her own arms blown off. She seemed pensive, or adamant on avoiding contact with others and so Isabella let her be, no need starting something right before her first mission with the crew, though Isabella would certainly like to get to know her afterward. There was also the man who seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn't. He was an odd duck by her first glance, but nothing too out of the ordinary.

Her observations were cut short when the door opened and XO Lang ushered them inside. Isabella let out a sigh of relief and plopped down into her seat in the war room. She listened carefully to the scant details of the briefing. She wasn't sure if Bentz' omission of what they may be facing was intentional or not, but it certainly didn't put her at ease. Her body and infrequent dreams could attest to what happens when you have bad intel and she certainly didn't want a repeat.

“We're heading out in an hour,” Cecilia informed the pilots. “Until then, make any preparations to your FRAMEs and be ready to move. Any questions?”

Isabella moved to speak, but her question had already been forwarded by Elaine. Instead she simply pointed at the fiery readhead "Yeah, what she said." While she waited for an answer the guy who wasn't talking earlier seemed to suddenly find his voice again. What began as a question rather quickly turned into a long treatise on why he needed C&C modules for his FRAME. That's a bit forward for a new recruit she thought and also made a mental note to not ask him many questions. Isabella suspected that if she got him talking he would never stop.

"Is this a paid test?" was the first question to come from the assembly. Richard chuckled, admiring Jason's bluntness.

"The payout for the mission is over four million creds, which will be divided among you lot. The rest goes to fund the Samigina's upkeep and crew. You can expect to walk away with around five hundred thousand each, give or take."

"But don't get ahead of yourself," Cecilia chimed in. "If you don't make the cut, you don't get a cut."

"Do we have any information on the numbers and strength of the security forces?" asked a familiar voice, belonging to Elaine; already a fully-fledged Panther.

"I can't give you a hard number, but I would expect at least two FRAMEs per vehicle. There are supposed to be four to five trucks. Let me remind you that businesses in the OSU are state-owned, so there's a good chance the FRAMEs we'll encounter are military. I'd expect them to be running medium Dreq FRAMEs." Richard brought up an image of a Dreq on the screen. "It's the standard general-purpose FRAME of the OSU. Don't let your guard down."

As Bentz finished his answer, he was almost immediately met with another, asked by one of the newcomers. He recognized the man's face as Harold "Juppy" Benson, a Sodroyan. He had a pretty respectable knack for intel, even if he was a little eccentric. Cecilia shared an awkward glance with her boss and opened her mouth to retort.

"You'd better hope I don't send you into this operation on point," she snapped, furrowing her brow. "Your background may have enticed the boss but until I see you in a FRAME, I don't care what your 'qualifications' are. You follow my instructions while we're in the field, you understand?"

Richard raised a hand and wore a grin to diffuse his adjutant's outburst. "You'll have plenty of opportunities to mod your machine how you see fit," he said calmly. "I can't guarantee you'll build the FRAME of your dreams, but you shouldn't be wanting for options. Your loadouts for this mission are very basic, I'll admit; but within good reason. We need to see what you're capable of at the most basic levels, without the aid of fancier tech."

"If there are no further questions, you're all dismissed," Cecilia announced, in a voice more suited to indoors. The glare of her eyes still simmered, however. "Be ready to board your FRAMEs at 0700. Don't keep us waiting."

Benson sat through his XO's rather unprofessional lecture of how he needed to be combat ready and all that, entirely unfazed. And, he took it to heart, he knew that he needed to be combat ready, but it seemed that this lady had it out for him. So he gave a salute, nodded his agreement at all her points, maybe a little too innocently and agreeable for what was supposed to be a scathing response, and replied amiably enough.

"Yes ma'am, you make good points! Except I'm not saying front lines as in the literal front lines, I'm just saying front lines as in the actual battlefield, regardless of where I'm supposed to be. I'm not saying I can't fight, I'm just saying that I am more enthusiastic and, as said, I am hired for other reasons. And while I am not amazing with a FRAME, I do indeed know how to use them. And I'm not saying I'm going to be in control, either. If everyone can focus on their piece of the battle, and get updates as needed concerning them, without having to listen to the chatter about everything, it makes it easier for a pilot. Calling down airstrikes on command without the ones in the thick of it gives those that are in the thick of it more focus on the battle, without worrying about exactly where the rounds will hit, while I can make sure they aren't hit by friendly fire. I never said nothin about giving orders, just relaying them. A messenger, the map, the advisor that can still participate in the battle."

He gave a small smile, and nodded his head respectfully to his XO. Then he saluted his CO, still oddly military-like in the mercenary outfit, and gave a small wave goodbye, as he turned and strode after the rest of the team.

And inside, he felt like he just wrestled a rattlesnake, and was sure that he'd find that he'd been bitten.

He pushed it out of his mind- his quick retreat meant only to force her to either follow him- which would degrade her, to have to chase after a newbie- or to sit and think about what he said. She shouldn't have gone off on him, he believed, he wasn't and shouldn't have to be super precise with his wording to get his point across.

He sighed, as he approached his FRAME- he was quite sure he had made an enemy.

"I give my liiife, not for honor, but foor yoooou~"

An old war song played in the darkness of the cockpit, rattling the controls ever so slightly with it's tinny music. No, it was too quiet, what was really shaking things up were probably the rumbling snores from the man encased within the machine, probably loud enough to be heard from even the hangar outside. The clocks on board struck 0600 hours, and Bernard's eyes flicked open. The sleeping bear rose with a grumble and began flicking switches, mindlessly-- no, a rumbling had started within the belly of the Handou FRAME, it seemed to be waking up too. It coughed to life as he did, not an old machine, but in many ways part of its pilot. It was more like... muscle memory...

The old man woke up.

He blinked once, twice. Ah, it seemed that he'd fallen asleep in the cockpit again. So cold these days. He pulled on the release lever, and the lid of the cockpit rose slowly.

"Someday you go through the rain,
And someday you feed on a tree frog,
It's ordeal, the trial to survive
For the day we see new light~"

Bernard sighed as he lit up for the first time the morning, his controls no longer demonstrating that little bit of shake. New recruits were filing in, seemed like a good lot. The day was starting, and it was a bad habit of his to wonder how many of them would come back at the end of the day. He still hoped it would be everybody. He snorted, watching the plumes of smoke trail upward towards the flourescents. Another bad habit. It was one worth keeping though.

"Morning everyone", he grumbled at the team.

Maia sat still in her chair, hands steepled in front of her face and trying her best to not look hung over. As her first real run as a regular in a mercenary company, she knew she had to listen in order to get ahead. And so she pushed past an ache in her head, and tried her best to listen to her prospective new CO. But of course, her listening was really in the loosest sense of the word. Her eyes glazed over at the generous statements Bentz made about the Panthers, and the mention of company this, corp that almost turned her off of listening entirely. The only things that stuck were the logo she had to watch out for, and the map. And really, that's all she needed.

The second the initial briefing was up, she was beginning to stand just as Benson decided to give a dissertation about how, no, he'd rather not be in the front lines because he's a logistics specialist. The obvious "you take orders from me" response and his fire back made Maia sit right back down, rubbing a temple with the heel of her hand and frowning. Looks like she had already found someone especially to keep her distance.

As she sat, she decided to survey the rest of the group, trying to draw some conclusion about them. Her headache didn't exactly help her form any opinions.

Benson, she could already tell, was the go-getter assertive type. Her least favorite. Jason... she didn't know. He seemed quiet, which was good enough, although that could change. Ryder seemed more quiet, a real stoic warrior type, conscious of her appearance too. And Maia could tell that if nothing else, Ryder also had her scars. If she didn't monologue about the rules of nature or whatever things would be just dandy. She caught Isabella scanning at the same time as her, and tried to seem nonchalant. Edward was huge, but that's all she could glean.

Lots of people missing parts of their body. At least Maia counted herself lucky for that, even if she was falling to pieces.

At the actual end of the briefing, Maia stood up and snapped a half-hearted salute to the CO. She walked quickly out of the room, popping an aspirin as she did so. It was going to be a long, long day.

Even the crudely drawn snarling dog face she'd painted on Mad Dog's front panels during a bender didn't dissuade her from this opinion.

Bernard popping out of the cockpit suddenly was enough to snap Maia right out of her hangover, however. And nearly out of her skin, considering how she visibly jumped at his appearance.

"Gah!" she exclaimed, before quickly straightening herself out and flattening her expression. Now was the time to deflect possible signs of weakness with humor. "So... how was the nap?"

Avice took a seat in one of the back corners of the room as Richard began the mission briefing. She couldn’t help but notice how it all felt so similar to her as she pulled out a notepad and pen. Wait for a superior officer. Listen to him give objectives and not enough information. Get shot at. Hopefully return in one piece. The major differences thus far, as much as Avice could discern, was that unlike in the army she had to provide her own equipment and the objectives of a given mission could obviously be considered quite different. A few years ago the mission would have just been to destroy the shipment, not capture it.

She found that fact to be a point of interest as she wrote it down on her pad. Their employer clearly wasn’t trying to simply deny their enemy the cargo, meaning it was something of great importance. Not that that really mattered to her now so long as the cargo didn’t turn out to be radioactive material or something.

Something she found of greater interest was how one of the other pilots had to ask for the specifics of what to expect in terms of what kind of resistance they were likely to encounter. Granted the army rarely had an accurate number, but at least they gave their soldiers a solid guess upfront. Clearly it was something to keep in mind for future missions.

The briefing was coming to an end when one of the pilot’s, a man sitting in the middle of the room, opened his mouth to give a rant about how he was better suited in combat support than actual combat. What was the man’s name? Harvard? Henry? Harold! Yes, Harold. Harold did have a good point. Why place a soldier at point when he was trained for support? Even so their superiors didn’t find it amusing; Lang gave him a fairly thorough dressing down, after which Harold proceeded to put his foot into his mouth, again. Apparently the man just had to have the last word. Avice doubted that attitude would last long.

Avice let out a long sigh as she rose from her seat and headed to the door, muttering “Well this is going to be fun” under her breath. All things considered she felt like she was about to step into a minefield. She was going into battle with a group of soldiers, if she could call them such, that could be anything from actual veterans to officer workers with delusions of grandeur. How could she count on them to watch her six? She couldn’t and since she couldn’t she would have to watch her own six. The awkward part about that was that’d mean she’d be too busy watching her own ass to cover anyone else’s. Of course none of that would matter if someone accidently shot their objective and the objective turned out to be high yield explosives or something. Yep. This mission was going to be fun in the most sarcastic way possible.

Well there certainly wasn’t much she could do about it, she concluded as she made her way to the hanger. Best thing she could do was play with the hand she was dealt. Perhaps she’d be pleasantly surprised and learn that she was the least skilled among the recruits. As she and the other pilots reached the hanger and older pilot emerged from his own FRAME and greeted them. She turned to him and began to offer him a salute only to awkwardly shift it into a wave halfway through. This was not the army and although she was still expected to salute her superior officers that did not mean she had to salute more senior pilots.

Avice felt the edges of her mouth curl upwards as one of the other pilots let out a noise of surprise before asking him how is nap was. What was her name? Maia. There was something about both Maia and older man that felt different. They both were clearly no strangers to conflict; the way they held themselves felt familiar to Avice. If nothing else they were clearly better than her feared office worker with delusions of grandeur.

“I hope it was good” Avice added after Maia inquired about the man’s nap, “because you missed the briefing sir. Need a summary of what you missed out on?”

While his fellow pilots asked questions his mind was wandering thinking of how much he should try to make contact before the first mission as the odds are, it's a very optimistic result to expect everyone to be up to the job. Maybe even he himself would not make a cut.
His attention snapped back when when he heard a very important question asked:

"Do we have any information on the numbers and strength of the security forces?"

He heard a woman say, immediately noticing the very burring nature of her pronunciation of 'R' and judging by her smile, she was a veteran of the Panthers.

Then before he got to give it any more thought her question was answered and he wanted to hear it well;

"I can't give you a hard number, but I would expect at least two FRAMEs per vehicle. There are supposed to be four to five trucks...."

He felt that there was something odd with the number of FRAMEs escorting the truck. what is worth 4 million in credits that is protected by roughly double the FRAMEs to transports. He did not get too long to linger with that question as another Person started to ask a question,

"I hope you'll allow me to get some more extensive command-and-control modules with a more specialized mech, soon, because I'm not much of a front line fighter. Not out of lack of skill, I'm just better at pointing out where things are goin' south, you know?..."

but it turned more to a rant not long after and he stopped paying attention to it. but still breaking a little smile as he knew that at least there would be chatter to lighten up the mood.

"If there are no further questions, you're all dismissed. Be ready to board your FRAMEs at 0700. Don't keep us waiting."

as prompted he went off and he wanted to make sure that his FRAME was up to the task so he went up to check on it, on his way when he came to the FRAME hangar and his what drew his attention was when he heard:

"Gah!"

he saw a man that was not at the briefing but he decided to get off the scene, he didn't want to make bonds before he knew they would make a cut, or if he did for that matter, feeling a little down about how he did turn his tail at the enemy while rest of his squad was slaughtered but reminding himself there was nothing he could have done for them, aside from living on in their stead. He pushed those thoughts aside as he came to 'Revenant', his own frame while not very personalized yet, he felt that naming his FRAMEs deepened his connection to it.

He went inside and looked over his equipment one more time, also running test on components so there would be no nasty surprises on the field. After looking over his FRAME he decided to have his cockpit open and wait for GO, casually looking over the frames of the others.

Jason leaves the briefing room feeling energized, 8-10 enemies verses what seems to be an even force of mercenaries. 'Could be diecy' he thinks to himself as he enters the hangar with his FRAME. To steady his nerves and calm his mind he begins maintence of his FRAME. he field strips his dual Auto-cannons and oils them up well, to assure himself that there will be no unexpected complications in battle. Once he finishes with the Guns he checks over the missile launcher, making sure that there is no chance for a misfire. once all these checks had been completed he looked at the clock, 15 minutes until the mission. He loads all the ammunition into the FRAME and climbs into the cockpit. running several systems diagnostics that only take a few moments.

Once his FRAME checked out to his satisfaction Jason powers it on and moves around lightly. He tests the range of motion in his arms and legs, it was the same as it always had been, but its a good reminder that the FRAME doesn't quite move the same way as a human. checking the on board clock it's 10 more minutes until the mission starts, he mutters to himself "Come on! Im ready for the fight!." with nothing better to do, he shadow boxes for a couple minutes to get the engine and himself warmed up for battle, with only five minutes remaining he stops and just breathes deeply, waiting for hell.

Ryder filed quickly into the room where the FRAMEs were held. She stopped only for a slight moment, as if admiring her machine. She hadn't been a FRAME pilot for long after all. The hulking metal war machine was still a bit awe-striking. Ryder approached her machine putting a hand on its metallic armor. Theta, she called it. Well... There was a small Theta symbol carved right into the FRAME's back, so if fit. It was subtle, and that suited her. Ryder picked up a nearby cloth, cleaning some dirt from the FRAME.

Ryder's attention snapped to the music emerging from the opening cockpit. A veteran of the Panthers, it seemed, came into sight from within the FRAME. Her blank stare was short lived, for after he greeted the group, she simply turned back to Theta. As her gaze fell onto the FRAME, her mind started to wander. Their Commanding Officer seemed nice enough, though the Field Commander seemed a bit harsh. Nothing Ryder wasn't expecting to deal with. She wasn't one to get on people's bad sides anyways.

Then her thoughts moved on to the mission. She was simply planning ahead and thinking over each of the pilots that spoke up during the briefing, trying to analyze their personalities to figure out how they would act in combat. It was almost a habit for her. Throughout all her time in thought, passing the Panther's little test didn't really cross her mind. Ryder had just planned to do what she normally did. That has gotten her this far.

Ryder then activated her FRAME, opening the cockpit and peering inside to make sure everything was in order. With a quick sweep of the interior, she sat inside with the cockpit still open. She brought a hand to her hair brushing it to the best of her abilities with just her hand for now. From there, she simply waited, watching each of the other pilots, silently. It was almost as if she was silently sizing up her fellow recruits, but she really had no opinions on them. Ryder never really liked or disliked any of her co-workers before, unless they got cocky. Ryder had a very set in stone 'Prepare for the worst' mentality.

Ryder then went through each of the recruits that spoke at the briefing, forming her opinions of each. First off, there was the man that asked about payment, Jason. Ryder figured it was typical mercenary behavior, but felt this could lead to him putting himself before others. There was also another who spoke up, asking about the details of the mission. She was comfortable with Cecilia, so she must have been a veteran. Ryder gave herself a silent nod. She figured she could trust this girl when things went bad. Finally, came the talkative one, Harold. He sure hadn't gotten off well with Cecilia, not to mention he had said he was better supporting then fighting. That was worrying, but Ryder pushed it out of her head. She'd have to watch him to make sure he wasn't directly attacked. That was everyone who spoke at the conference. The only other person Ryder had heard speak so far was the man that was in his FRAME during the meeting. He must also have been a veteran, but he fell asleep in his cockpit? Ryder, absent-mindedly started wondering if that had ever happened during combat, sending Bernard a perplexed look, but shortly looking away.

She quickly went back to routine checking of all her FRAME's systems until moments before their mission was to begin. Ryder always made sure to be early, so she was in her FRAME and secure a few minutes beforehand.

Elaine arched an eyebrow at the attempt by one of the newcomers to explain himself in depth, and the subsequent dressing down by Cecilia. His emphasis on battle management and support turned the thought in her that she would likely end up working a lot with the new pilots; her own role of reconnaissance and observation was very much along the same lines. Between them, they'd likely end up providing most of the tactical picture for the rest of the unit while on the field. Hopefully, though, he'd be a bit more assured and competent while they were under the guns of the 'bad guys' out in the real world.

Everyone seemed to be filing out and heading for the FRAME hangar, with little else left to say. Taking it as her cue to do the same, the redheaded pilot followed her comrades down the corridors and passages of the landship to the cathedral-like space that the machines occupied. Everyone set to work adjusting and checking their machines. It was a slight shock as Bernards' FRAME opened up to reveal him looking sleep-dishevelled inside the cockpit and greeting everyone. Elaine simply shook her head and gave a smirk toward the fellow pilot, adding a wave of acknowledgement.
She climbed up into her machine, fondly named 'Raven' and with a stylised image of the bird by the same name on one shoulder. She didn't close the hatch, but instead powered up the onboard computer systems for a self-test, and began to run through checklists, preferences and checks, making sure links were clear and established between her machine and the others, and also back to the ship. Likewise, she ran diagnostics on all onboard systems and weapons; no use being caught short in the field, and even if the techs had checked everything, double-checking was always worthwhile, and she liked having the piece of mind of knowing it was done.
As she worked, she glanced up and looked around at the others; they showed a range of reactions. Some eager to get into the fight, other showing cautious and measured approaches to their preparation. How much of that would show once they were out and into the thick of things? She was curious to see how it would go.

The talkative newbie has a lot of feet to put in his mouth, Isabella thought. She stifled a giggle as he was dressed down by the XO. He certainly was an interesting character, one she would have to keep her eye on in the future: assuming he made it of course. Only time would tell with most of the new blood. She shrugged to nobody but her own thoughts and shuffled out towards the hangar bay with the others.

During the short trek she began to feel it. The stomach tying itself in knots and the slightest trickle of adrenaline. It was time for action. She picked up her pace, suddenly filled with purpose and managed to make it just in time to see Bernard rise out of his cockpit and spook one of the others. She openly guffawed at that and waved her hand at the old man. "Hey gramps, fell asleep at the wheel again? They aught to take your license away for good." Her words were punctuated with a doofy smile to her squad mate and fellow prosthetic pincushion. Her Handau sat resting in the spot adjacent, so she got to work giving her machine a fin spot check without waiting for a response.

She brought up the maintainance log for her Ghost Killer with her eye and checked it against what she saw. She trusted the mechanics more than she trusted herself, but it was better to be safe than sorry and helped to kill a half hour. Content with what she found and didn't find, she gently caressed the chest art of her FRAME. She'd seen people with elaborate murals, pin-ups, shark faces, the works. Hers was simpler, a smiling little ghost like a pinched napkin with a hole blown clean out of the top corner of it's head. The thing was hardly larger than her splayed out hands, but she was proud of it. She had drawn it herself and had been happy to find that having mechanical digits made art infinitely easier than it had once been. Her pre-operation rituals complete, she popped the cockpit and climbed aboard. She thumbed the drive start and felt her FRAME growl to life. She flicked through all of the pre-launch steps like an old pro, which compared to some of the new blood in the Panthers she supposed she was. Everything came out green and she let out a sigh and emptied her mind. It was go-time.

A while after the pilots had entered the FRAME bay and gotten themselves situated, Cecilia emerged from the bowels of the landcruiser. Over her black BDUs, she wore her FRAME harness, cradling her helmet in her arm. Immediately, she snuck her way to Bernard's Handou and gave the chassis a few hard thumps with her knuckles.

Clang, clang clang!

"Rise and shine, gramps!" she shouted up to the cockpit. Unlike her interaction with Harold earlier, there was little menace in her voice. In fact, her tone was almost playful.

"Really, Bernard - you're setting a bad example for the newbies," Cecilia hissed. Asides from Richard, Bernard was one of the few Panthers that had the luxury of being spared the sharp end of Cecilia's stick. Part of it was his seniority; Cecilia disciplining a man who was over twice her age seemed a bit silly. However, Cecilia knew the things the old man had been through. He'd seen the worst of the war with the totalitarian Emarran government, even seen the rise of the FRAME as a machine of war when he was a humble infantryman. No, Cecilia certainly respected the veteran, despite his unpredictability... and habit of missing critical briefings.

Cecilia threw a small notepad up to the cockpit, which she'd prepared just after the briefing. It told the old vet everything he'd need to know about the operation. "No sleeping on this one, Bernie." She turned away to head back to her own FRAME, meeting the gazes of several other Panthers and newcomers, who'd been taken aback both by Bernard's napping, and Cecilia's exchange.

"What're you looking at?" she barked. "Suit up! We leave in ten!"

-----

The control panels of Cecilia's FRAME glowed as they sprang to life, bathing her in a green haze. She punched the keypad in front of her, and diagnostics scuttled around the main panel before the cameras adjusted and captured the FRAME bay on-screen. With her helmet on, Cecilia's HUD was superimposed against the camera's images. A quick runthrough affirmed her checklist was in order, and tinkering with the control yokes told her her controls and weapons were functioning properly.

"This is Lang," she said over the radio. "Make any last-minute adjustments to your machines. The mission objectives have been uploaded into your FRAMEs, if you happen to forget what we're doing out there." She said that last bit in a snarky voice, clearly intended for a select few. "Newbies - I want you to find a Panther and stick close to them. Nobody does anything stupid."

The umbilical cables keeping Cecilia's Handou in place detached from the machine with a hiss, and she maneuvered the FRAME from her dock toward the bay's exit ramp.

"Everyone, report in!"

Well. That was an overly familiar tone if she'd ever heard one, Maia thought. It wasn't actually that surprising, considering he probably had more than a bit of history with the company, and the rest of them were pretty much fresh meat picked up from the grocer. Still. Something to note, if this arrangement became long-term.

"Nothing I shouldn't. Ma'am." With that, Maia turned away, strolling up to Mad Dog. Sterling new machine, even with the bit of wear on it. And her customization. Well... if you could call it customization. Aside from the snarling dog face on the chest piece, there were other eclectic bits and bobs to it. Doodles, put down during a boring day of recon. Motivational sayings from former squadmates she refused to admit were near and dear. A bunch of inane scrawling that crossed down her FRAME with little rhyme nor reason, like she was looking at the walls of some loony in an asylum, defacing the walls of their prison.

"Mad Dog" indeed.

That brief bit of introspection and admiration finished, it was time to actually get to work.

The cockpit wasn't exactly cozy. It was just the stock model, with the scent of cigarette smoke clinging to every nook and cranny. She'd thankfully cleared out all the bottles and cups from earlier, when she decided to enjoy her down time before the briefing. Having a bunch of crap rattling in your cockpit was possibly a safety hazard, and definitely a distraction.

Speaking of distractions, the hangover was kicking back into full gear, pushing back against the aspirin with full, unrelenting force. SHe was never a fan of the whole "hair of the dog" technique, but hey, some things can't be helped.

Maia took a belt from her hip flask, some low-quality rum she couldn't name in a lineup. She was so used to liquor of its caliber she was able to actively suppress her body rebelling against the toxic crap she was pouring into it. With a shake of her head, she surveyed the controls. Gauges were all normal. No overheating, readings were normal, reactor was as fresh as it could be. She remembered loading up with her guns and her rockets before the mission. No need to change, they probably weren't meeting anything heavy enough to need the extra firepower.

"Leventis reporting. Mad Dog online."

"Gah!"

Maia's sharp surprise woke BFF up a little more completely, and he crumpled his expression in exaggerated irritation as she asked how his nap had gone. He was about to respond with a joke about his arthiritis when Avice interjected. He unfolded like the paper tiger he was, and was about to animatedly explain about his psychic powers, maybe tell the story about the Mantis that his kids used to like when a sharp rap at the side of his Handou distracted him further. To this he began to chuckle to himself-- not the first time he hadn't gotten a chance for a word when it came to the ladies in his life.

"Rise and shine gramps!", oh shit it's the boss lady, "Really, Bernard - you're setting a bad example for the newbies!"

A pad and paper landed in his lap as she stalked off like the angry kitten
Bernard had come to respect her as, hissing all the way at all the other chickadees. He would follow the kitten's orders with his life, the resolve of a diamond dog; Bernard caught that as his cue to start meaning business. With an amicable shrug, he stood and stole an apologetic look at Maia and Avice before he started to batten down the hatches. As he began to pull, he saw-- Elaine.

He gave her a nod. Morgan's girl. Elaine. Smoke and dust had hardened his voice, his face, but she knew that Old Snake could understand what a hard life was. He closed the hatch with a metallic clang, and shook his head. His systems were already up and grumbling of course-- BFF was more like his machine's heartbeat than anything. Yeah, he needed to he there, but the Snake Eater? It was his body. He sat back into his seat, comfy as Satan as he snuffed his cigarette into it's metallic case. He turned on the coms with a link to everyone, turned on his smile. He felt more comfortable talking from here anyhow. His words were for the ones he'd seen so far. Faces that he wanted to see smiling again.

"Sorry to keep you waiting!" Bernard's voice was a jovial rasp, like sandpaper would sound if it liked you and wanted to buy you a drink. "Wish I was this popular when I was a younger man! Don't hesitate rookies! Make sure that when you see your path in front of you, make it yours!"

It seemed he was in good company, and the team grandpa was in fine spirits as he spoke to his family. His smile made comfortable wrinkles in his face like familiar leather, and he addressed each of his teammates with a little laugh in his voice. It would be just as well, maybe he could put some spirits more at ease before they had to pick up their guns. Yeah. That would be enough for him. A crackle of static, and he was online with the kitten.

"Emmerich reporting in, Snake Eater is ready for battle!"