It had been several months since the initial attack by the newly created Crimson Nova Force Metal. Nearly half of the once bustling metropolis of Aegis 09 has become a warzone, while the other half still retains some semblance of its former glory. Citizens and refugees from the destroyed half of the city try to live their lives as best as they can, while the military force in the city center devises plans on how to counter the corrupted half of the city. Scouting parties are sent in on a daily basis, to gather information on how to destroy Crimson Nova or to search for any at all survivors. One such scouting party will not be so lucky, and they will have to adapt quickly if they are to stay alive.

It was a foggy morning at the military center, a large transport ship was just leaving the hangar with a newly formed scouting party. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Next stop, the quarantine zone." The pilot's voice chimed in as the ship took off towards the ruined half of the city. The seats of the ship were filled by a mixed squad, mainly of volunteers this time around. It was quiet for a minute before one person spoke up, a human by the looks of things. "So... Uh... How did all of you get caught up in this?" She asked everyone.

The reploid beside her grunted. "Why should it matter? We're here to work, not to get to know each other." he said in an annoyed tone. "Uh... Well excuse me for being curious!" She huffed. "Hm... You know... I heard that the Crimson Nova has started to become more advanced on its own... I heard it can even possess humans now." The reploid said, trying to seem spooky. "Ah! S-shut up! That's not funny!" She exclaimed before taking a deep breath. "I'm Shanna... A field medic... And this rude bucket of bolts is Richter..." She said to the others on board. "Forgive him... This is... Not his first time in a squad. But it is mine."

Gauss turned her head towards the human. "Umm, like Richter said, this is my job, but there's no harm in getting to know our team. ...I'm sure HR would approve..." Gauss added the last bit with a slightly muted and tired sigh, "Anyways, I'm Gauss Atlas, 'Gauss' because I use E&M, 'Atlas' because I'm an Atlas Beetle... I'm sure you know how traditional reploid naming conventions work. But you can just call me 'Gauss', or just 'Atlas', whichever you prefer. I'm with the city's infrastructure department. Since the beginning of the energy crisis, I've been deployed for repairs and as an over-glorified backup generator in a pretty futile attempt to patch up our failing energy grid. Sure, this whole Crimson Nova thing seems more dangerous, but the way I see it, it's just a continuation of my previous job."

Gauss turned her attention to Richter, "And don't scare the human! You know they're more prone to succumbing to their emotions than us!" This was actually not true, merely a misconception some reploids had, but all-in-all, reploids were just as capable of emotions, and as prone to succumbing to them, as humans. "On that note, why are you here, Shannon? I'm sure there are plenty of medical reploids who could do your job without fear and with greater efficacy." As harsh as that sounded, the question was not meant as a personal attack, but for her whole life, Gauss saw the relationship between reploids as one in which the less capable human creators making reploids to basically take care of everything, and as the creation, the reploids owed their very existence to the humans, and therefore didn't really have much of a say. Humans were allowed to be cowardly and lazy, whereas reploids had to bear the burden of keeping things running so the humans could continue to be cowardly and lazy. Of course, there were exceptions, probably humans driven by delusions of grandeur or a sense of 'voluntourism'. This was, unfortunately, a fairly common sentient among reploids, some resented it and became maverick, whereas others, like Gauss, simply accepted it, but adopted the stereotypes.

"So I guess the concepts of duty and resolve are lost on you?" the voice spoke up out of nowhere. It was someone sitting at the rear area, leaned back against the wall in a relaxed posture. If not for the red, triangular mark on his forehead then one would easily take him for a human at first glance. But the mark branded him as a Reploid nonetheless, but one curiously bearing a remarkably accurate resemblance to the humans. He gave a slow shake of his head, "Whatever, you'll figure it out for yourself eventually. Assuming you survive that long."

He looked as if he were about go back to minding his own business, but gave a quick roll of his eyes and a final glance in the direction of the squad, "Call me Duster. I'm here to earn credits. That's all." and then proceeded to return to his own private thoughts. He acted remarkably like a human, even by Reploid standards. His posture, mannerisms, and even cynical tone and gestures were proof of that.

Hmph, why bring up duty and resolve anyway? Not like either of those things mattered to him in any meaningful capacity. At least, not without remembering a few things he'd rather keep buried, anyway. Or maybe he just didn't want to get stuck with a squad of individuals who distrusted one on another over misconceptions and misunderstandings? The last thing he needed was to end up in some unwinnable scenario because the squad he got stuck with wasn't a very stable one. Right, he convinced himself. That had to be it.

The transport hummed quietly in the background as it took them over the walls and the safer half of the city to their destination. 'Next stop, the quarantine zone.' The announcement filled him with an unknown sort of dread, though he was aware of some of what caused it. He had been in the zone, and let me tell you, first-timers, it wasn't pleasant. Sure as hell wasn't a great thing to first wake up to, either. You always remember your first encounter with them. Mavericks... Standing there, staring with a vacant smile and a twinkle of madness in your eye... Crimson Nova - Crim, Crimson, Nova, or even just The Maverick Virus - had developed from a supposedly powerful but unstable Force Metal, causing those upgraded with it to tweak out of control, losing both mind and soul. Well...nobody's been able to prove the soul, but you get the idea. It's just an expression the humans say.

He himself was not human. Sitting among these people was a fox-like machine, or pseudo-machine, or however you want to put it. Reploid technology was a complicated science. Someone once told him that Reploid was short for Replicated Humanoid, much the way Pseudoroid denoted a Pseudo Reploid, or a Reploid-like being that was different than the humanoid types. Case in point: Swift Fox. He wasn't a human like Shanna or Richter the Reploid, but a humanoid fox-like Pseudoroid. Unlike most Pseudoroids, though, he had a few differences. For instance, someone likely designated Gauss Atlas for her - Yes, that's a she - upon creation. Swift had a designation. You could see it written on his chest, but...that wasn't a name. He wasn't named, on creation because his model - the Nu-Fox versatile soldier - was not a single machine, you see. They were an army built in a factory, the place where he first awoke. Swift designated himself, after it'd been established that he wasn't a Maverick and he had individuality, a Bio-Metal core, unlike every other Nu-Fox.

Nobody knew how they could possibly work without one. It was a mystery to this day.

Anyway, Swift tried to settle what had to be his equivalent of the nerves. He gave the medic a glance of understanding at her own anxieties, knowing that while she was mainly there to support them from the back, he and the others here would have to fight the madness out there. He sympathized, though, because it was definitely shocking to even witness it, to know that 'That thing was once a sane and happy, now violent and crazy'. He'd never get use to it, unlike 'I work for the money' Duster, nearby. Oh right! They were introducing themselves! Probably better to be familiar with one another. The vulpinoid spoke up next, raising his hand as sort of a greeting.

"It's actually my first mission too, though unfortunately...I've been here before."

He had kind of a youthful voice about him, maybe not what others would expect. Then again, he technically was younger than everyone here.

"My name is Swift Fox, and I woke up not far from the walls, originally, just on the wrong side."

He lowered his hand and his gaze, glaring more at the floor now.

"I've seen what Crimson Nova does to Reploids, what it reduces them to. I don't care about the credits. I just want to see this end."