[IC] GEARs: Silent Line [Anthro, Sci-Fi Mecha Roleplay]

[Rhona W]

The Evening Garden was Princess Arelle's favourite place in the whole of the Royal Palace. Her mother had taken her there to play often when she was growing up, and it had always held a special place in her heart. The smell of honeysuckle and jasmine, and the way it caught enough of the day's warmth as the sun was going down in summer leant the walled garden an air of mystery and magic.
The personal and intimate association the garden had made it a place she kept to herself for the most part, and one she retreated to when she needed space to think.
Very few people were ever invited into the gardens' confines, and it was only for the most personal and essential conversations to those with a huge degree of trust and personal association.
This particular evening, there was the slightest of chills in the air and the perfume of the plants was muted, as were the soft evening songs of the birds. Arelle's hooves were a soft thump against the carefully tended earthen paths as she walked with casual and slow grace along the paths, a simple shrug of regal purple fabric around her slender arms and shoulders.
Her companion walked slowly and easily alongside her, hands clasped behind his back. The lions' smart military class-A uniform was a contrast to the Princesses' elegant yet beautiful dress, and his rugged and finely matured features similarly a contrast to her youthful beauty and fine features.
"Don't you think the garden is beautiful at this time of year, General?" the princess said as she leant close to a bell-shaped blossom, taking it in a slender-fingered hand, nose twitching as she moved her equine muzzle close and took a deep breath. "Even though the flowers are coming to their end, they still smell so sweet".
The leonine man leant close to another blossom, caressing the soft petals with the pads of his paw, before nodding slowly as he gave a short sniff of his own. "Your mother would always say the same thing, Princess. And you always loved Jasmine flowers when you were young. You used to bring me them whenever I was at the palace".
The regal mare turned around with the slight smile that was her hallmark, and the one-eyed lion gave a short chuckle as she tucked a blossom of the flower into the chest pocket of his uniform jacket and patted it, before stepping back and giving a sigh.
"So, General Vresco. Unfortunately as much as this is a lovely enough, I suppose we must sour it with business". The mares' rose-pink eyes looked over him carefully, the hint of that smile still playing around her alabaster muzzle.
"I trust my Royal Warrant was enough to keep things quiet and contained, and that you've put together what we discussed? Are the 33rd ready for action?"
"Of course, Princess," he answered, the fatherly tone abandoned for one more strict and professional in nature, and his posture straight and measured. "The 33rd have been reformed under a blanket of secrecy, with several back-stories and cover-stories in place, all of which are complete with numerous levels of redundancy and elements of the truth. The unit's home base has been established as Camp Adley, on the outskirts on the Capital; co-based with elements of the Royal Guards and also the Blackshoulder Special Forces and Counter-Terrorism unit. That gives further justification for any secrecy and more deniability too."
"Marvellous," the Princess said with a more firm smile and a spark of satisfaction in her eyes. "And the personnel? Hand-picked via both your and my own recommendations?"
He nodded and tapped a hip pocket. "Exactly the same as our discussion, your highness. All vetted and approved, and should be reporting into the unit in the morning. Though, they won't be at Adley".
"Well, quite". The princess said with a frown of annoyance that crossed her face like a brief summer cloud. "Enough is enough, with people going missing and armed skirmishes in Solernia that have killed innocent people and our uniformed people alike, it' time to do something active about this. I trust the rest of this to you, Mikol. The council likely won't approve, nor will others in the military". Her ears flicked with irrtation, and she stomped one hoof, pawing it at the ground in an ancestral reflex. "But in the words of my dearly departed grandmother..." She sighed and gently stroked another flower, a wistful expression on her face.
"By royal decree, they can go fuc-"

Early the following morning, with the sun having only poked its' head over the horizon less than an hour ago and the twin moons being chalk sketches in the sky, a rugged-built, grizzled, and bleary-eyed fox in a rumpled set of Solernian RDF utility fatigues rubbed his single eye with a grumble as he padded along the quayside toward a small (well, smallish) vessel tied up on one side of a pier. He paused to watch a moment as a mobile crane lifted the second-to-last of six huge crates from the flat beds of trucks onto the ship.
Each crate was marked and labelled the same, and of the same dimensions. It didn't take a well-seasond GEAR pilot to know what transport crates looked like.
As the last one settled onto the ship's fantail, Silverwind moved past, catching sight of the end of the railing leading out onto the pier and the bored-looking guard who manned it. A gaggle of other pesonnel, dressed like himself stood in waiting, and the fox took a breath.
Now or never, he thought to himself before steeling his expression and striding forward with a more prounced and certain attitude, heading for a somewhat uncertain looking squirrel holding a clipboard, and wearing junior rank insignia.
"Ensign," he drawled as he drew up. "You look like you're in charge of this detail," he said, gesturing to the assembled Arvarans. "Wanna clue me in on what's goin' on here?"
"Captain!" the squirrel fairly squeaked. "I was uh, just waiting for you to arrive, sir. My orders were to escort you all aboard and take you to the planning and situation room for a briefing from General Versco! Sir!"
Silverwind nodded, casting his single-eyed gaze over the assembled personnel. He'd been given a brief on joining this new unit, and it was only because Versco was an old friend that he'd accepted the job to begin with.
The people he'd be commanding were, from all accounts, a good bunch; their service files certainly said so, as did account of their previous exploits. But it was Versco's call to give them all a welcome brief first.
"Arright," he said with a half-smile, turning his attention from the squirrel to the assembled GEAR pilots. "Y'all are the 33rd, an' I'm sure yer in much the same mind as me right now; wonderin' what th' hell's goin' on an' why yer all here at this unworldly hour on such a fine mornin' too. Well, I'll be your commanding officer. Captain Silverwind Blade, at yer service. An' I'm lead to believe that an old friend of mine is on this little pleasure boat, waitin' ta give us all some answers. So, I reckon we all take our gear, and let our new friend here, Ensign-" he squinted a single-eyed glance at the squirrels' name tag, quickly roving over the blocky characters of Arvaran text "-LaRue show us to where General Vresco is waiting for us".
"Y-yes sir!" the squirrel blurted, virtually seeming to jump out of his skin. "If you'll all follow me!"
Silverwind nodded and beckoned to the others, and followed LaRue up the gangplank, and onto the ship.

[Esailia]

Five minutes beforehand...

Soft paws swiftly thumping against the ground could be heard approaching, and those that glanced that way would see an otter bounding towards them on all fours, thick tail flying in circles to counter balance the rushed motions the girl was taking.

"I'm not late am I?!" The otter called out, and as she finally slowed down on her approach, she caught a wire from her belt in a paw and tripped, tumbling into a pile near Silverwind's feet, a little dazed...

"Qyii'eekhh'Chikhousx'Rishun...." She muttered to herself, rubbing her rear before looking up at who she nearly ran into. But upon seeing the insignias, she hurriedly gained her feet and with hands out, palms up, she bowed her head and added "Gyu'ook. Apologies. It won't happen again, Sir!"

Rishun quickly pulled away to a respectable distance as he started to speak, assuming an at rest stance, trying her hardest to ignore the feeling of her flushed cheeks from such an embarrassing entrance.

Once Silverwind finished his speech, she fiddled with her belt to try and fix her various wires, resecuring them just under the belt as she walked up the ramp with her new captain and her new outfit.

[Ramjammer]

Outwardly, Vonys presented the appearance of any typical soldier. Neat and clean uniform, pressed to perfection. Her fur groomed and trimmed neatly, with extra attention paid to her beard. Sadly, it wasn't as long as she'd have liked, but there was nothing to be done. Hooves and horns polished faultlessly, one always had to be ready to impress after all. She stood there, back ramrod straight with both hands clasped behind her back. From the outside, Vonys looked prepared, attentive and ready for anything.

Inwardly, with her thoughts far from prying ears, Vonys was petulantly bemoaning her fate.

She hated mornings, more than anything in the world. An attitude that left many to wonder why she'd willingly choose a line of work that required early mornings, and equally late nights.

There was no answer, because Vonys operated on a logic understood only by herself. The short of it however, was that it seemed like a good idea at the time.

The Ibex had gotten better at hiding her disdain for early mornings over the years. Stifling yawns, and fighting the urge to blink blearily at everything around her. Instead she adopted and almost permanent glare in a valiant effort to keep her eyes open. It did very little to make Vonys look friendly, but that was just as well seeing as she couldn't be bothered to speak most mornings either. Speaking took energy, and she needed that precious energy to function as if there was nothing amiss. A task far easier said then done.

The all to familiar feeling of a yawn brewing at the back of her throat was fought back valiantly. She was a professional, damn it! Despite her confusion and no shortage of misgivings, her presence on the dock at that ungodly hour was a requirement. It wouldn't do to look as if she could handle the barest requirements of her job, and if that were the case then she'd never fare against whatever was to follow.

Though, she might fare better than most if she were to guess. An Otter, half her age, nearly flew face first into the dock as she scrambled to fall in line. Slightly more alert than she had been previously, Vonys took a brief moment to eye the shorter woman in silence. She didn't seem hurt, at least not enough to warrant her intervention. The Ibex hoped that the Otter's clumsiness was a result of haste, and not a defining characteristic. Otherwise she'd be patching the smaller woman up quite frequently.

'There's always one, I suppose.' She thought dourly.

Vonys was inwardly relieved that she wasn't the only one present fighting the last vestiges of sleep that morning. The man that was presumably to be their commanding officer looked as if he'd barely slept a wink, and had much less time to prepare for the day after waking. It was a reassuring sight, if a bit troubling.

'I just hope his work ethic is in better condition.' Was all that she thought, listening with marked interest as the man spoke. His words held some interest to her, and Vonys found her curiosity fully piqued. If anything would put some pep in her step, it would be whatever awaited them on the small boat moored nearby.

[Lurking Shadow]

To say Fionn was half asleep is an understatement. Any time where both the sun and a moon (never mind both of them) are visible in the sky is too early as far as he is concerned, but the responsibility required by duty is greater than his complaints. So here he is, standing attentive despite his body’s cry out for sleep. Though his body may be great by his birthright as a bear, at times like this where it falters, it is up to his mind and spirit to pick up the slack.

Out of both, sheer will power and a little bit of self-hatred, he is able to muster the strength to outwardly appear kept-together and to stand at attention like a stone sentinel, unmoving.

He will not falter, he will not flinch, he will not move until he is told otherwise, he will not…be weak. Weakness. There is a word Fionn hates. A word he hates because he fears it. He fears the idea of being weak. He fears the void within his spirit. He hates the emptiness within himself. He hates himself.

But that is enough of that unconstructive thinking. There is no point in revisiting paths already tread, not when one is looking for a destination. That is the whole point of this, the structured environment and constant orders of the military leaves little room for thinking. It’s pretty simple in fact, he listens for orders and then he does them. Sure, it gets hard sometimes. The mind occasionally fractures in the pressure. The body weakens in the exhausting drills. But neither quite compares to the incompleteness of his spirit. The part he hates himself for, and for him self-hatred is a powerful motivator. The force that strengthens his resolve in adversity. It was that drive, after all, that brought him to this point. Presumably, it was a similarly powerful drive that brought the others here as well.

And then came a distraction that almost broke his stance, a bumbling otter losing her balance in haste, crashing to the ground. A part of Fionn wanted to help her up, but he elected to stay at attention. She did not appear to be hurt, physically at least, anyway.

Then came the brief introduction of his commanding officer. It was also his first opportunity to actually see his commanding officer. Fionn was slightly impressed by his worn appearance. Blade seemed like someone who has, frankly, seen some shit and Fionn could always respect that. Though whether he is one to earn his respect is still to be seen. At the end, he made his first movements in a while, as he silently followed the group onto the ship.

[FourtyTwo]

A new start, Max thought to himself as he yawned loudly, further down the quay from the cargo vessel he'd been commanded to be near and walking towards the rest of the team. While Max was a disciplined and stoic individual, a lion's yawn was not something you got rid of easily, given how much he absolutely loved sleep. No matter how many years he'd served and how disciplined he was, a good bed and just doing nothing was time to enjoy, savor and take in before the world came back and threw its intensity right back. It was time to think, recuperate, rest; before being ready for it all again.

Well, today was time to get back to something and not be sleepy. While a new start was always a lie, he thought to himself, the easygoing Warrant Officer Maxwell Fitzroy Bastion was at least aware that something kept as quiet as this was always going to be interesting. And well, it beat hanging around his old CO.

He was wearing the full fatigues of a reconnaissance specialist in the RSDF, from a pair of sturdy boots to a long-sleeve shirt and trouser combo camoflaged in a light grey-brown, his golden fur short and well kept as the lion headed over towards the rest, a black duffel bag over his shoulder filled with his personal possessions and equipment. He looked smart, the mark of a special forces soldier no less, Max looking like he was a grunt like any other...if you didn't look at his face. His mane was left just the way he liked it, brushing in the wind and almost blowing into his eyes, a surfer's choice almost. While his whiskers were short, he did have the look of someone who was definitely experiencing the morning.

Even the other lion he had known about in this whole organisation, General Versco no less, was much more professional, more honorable and smart. Lions were the height of sophistication some would say, loyal and neat guards that were neither brutes nor timid when in their service. The cynical truth was, Max thought to himself, was that it didn't really exist when you had your back up against the wall. And not when you didn't really fit in like everyone else. When you're a recon operative, rules go out the window.

Coming into line, he looked at the others, taking in the Captain, and the other three that had assembled here so far. All were shorter than him, bar the brown bear, who towered over the others in a way that wasn't very hard to explain. The Captain, Silverwind Blade was a figure even Max had heard stories about, the one-armed cyclops a formidable GEARS pilot and veteran of conflicts come by. Worn and weathered, but older and capable of commanding a unit like this. Accented too, from what he could overhear when he spoke with the smaller ensign, it just wasn't easily placed. And well, happy to crack a joke at least. This was already better than his last CO. If Silverwind looked after him, Max would return the favor. He owed that much at least.

The Bear, the Ibex and the Otter, on the other hand, he couldn't entirely tell. The former seemed quiet, almost shy, Max thought to himself. But probably not a great idea to piss him off if he did have an opinion. The reason Max had his scar was because he'd gotten into a fight with a Polar Bear, no less. No matter what training you have, or how ballsy you were, he now knew you just picked your fights a little better. So it made sense that he'd be the one carrying heavier weaponry- a team like this needed someone who was happy to bring ordinance to the party, even if he seemed very young compared to the others.

While the Ibex seemed....familiar to war, albeit in a different way. She was older, but weathered from war- a medic of some kind, it would appear. Neat and clean, yet like any Ibex that Max had already met, stubborn and straight to the point. Efficiency above all, but something said internally to him that she wasn't like Max in that way- someone in favor of order rather than the flow of chaos. A scout, someone used to the wilds, but something different. The otter, Max just couldn't get any bead on. Apart from being tiny, he could only guess she was here as the tech specialist, if her equipment seemed to suggest that- and getting back to her feet after that little trip to the floor.

And Max? Well, to the others no doubt, he was as proud as any lion could be, standing with his back straight and ready to attention, looking to the others with a gentle glance. Rough around the edges, but ready to do his work as the eyes of this team as he listened to Silverwind's brief.

"Understood, Captain." Max replied to Silverwind, giving a gentle nod as he looked to the other three, following behind the squirrel and the fox onto the vessel being loaded with transportation crates. Looking over his shoulder to the others, he guessed he had to try and break through somewhat, at least make some impression.

"I'm just hoping for some coffee on board. I'm feeling it this morning." Max added to the others. His accent could be more distinguished now, an undertone that was harsh albeit inviting, like he wasn't trying to scare the others but for someone smaller, easily could have come out like that.

He really couldn't do smalltalk, but hey, at least he was trying to compensate for his faults this morning.

Where they were going, he didn't know. What they were doing, he didn't know. But somehow, Max felt oddly optimistic for even his pragmatic self.

[redbaron1234]

Leslie Sobero

---

Always a morning person, Leslie was bright eyed and bushy tailed as she arrived on site, though not the first. She had made sure to budget enough time to make sure that her uniform was impeccable and her gear was properly packed. Still there was enough time for her to become bored before the captain gave his spiel. She hoped there was a coffee maker somewhere on board and looking around she could tell she wouldn't be alone in the search. Still, her excitement at being assigned to a new unit was enough to keep her alert through her new commander's speech.

She fell in line at the back of the group. The reassignment order hadn't mentioned being put on a ship, but it made sense. Looking up, she recognized the crane that was being used to load the ship, a Sobero Heavy Industry model. Suddenly a little more self conscious of her name patch on her shoulder, she looked forward and waited to board the ship. It was easily the largest she had personally been on, though maybe not the most valuable given the number of yachts she had been on.

She took a moment to eye up the other members of her new unit. The otter had certainly stood out by their dramatic fumble in front of everyone. The others seemed fairly innocuous, though she couldn't help but notice that the group was full of soldiers either within a year or two of herself, or those a decade or so her senior. It wasn't hard to tell these were her new squad mates. The otter seemed like a tech type, while the bear's physique made it a natural choice for the heavy weapons carrier. The Ibex's medical patch was clearly visible as they stood to listen to the captain. The only one that threw her for a loop was the Lion and their Recon patch, and the name "Bastion". She recognized the name from one of the many parties she had to attend. She would have to ask him about it later. For now, it was time to focus on the task ahead, and the briefing that was sure to come in a few moments.

[Rhona W]

Silverwind helped the otter to her feet with an amused smile and nodded companionably at her as she returned to her position in the line with the rest, listening to their comments as they came, and nodding or shaking his head, adding a reply in polite and interested interaction as they did. The squirrel lead them aboard the small vessel; a corvette he thought with an idle twist of memory. Almost immediately they went below decks and headed forward. A room was indicated to drop their bags - small as they were - off, and then they were lead into a briefing room, that immediately became cramped with the addition of six GEAR pilots of various sizes, an Ensign, and the general and his adjudtant already being present.
"General Vresco, sir!" Silverwind said, loud and proud. "Reportin' as ordered, sir. All members of the 33rd Special Tactical Operations Unit present and accounted for".
"Very good, Captain," the lion replied with a calm smile. "Please, be at ease and take your seats. We've got a few things to go over before we get properly underway".

Silverwind bade the rest to take their seats, casting a glance over the assembled men and women with a more relaxed eye as he took a seat of his own nearer the front.
They were as mixed a bunch as their dossiers had suggested. All of them had more than a few years in the service under their belts, and had all been on operational duties of some kind, even if it wasn't in a hostile environment. There was a healthy smattering of Special Operations training across the group, and all of them were, of course, GEAR trained and experienced.
Their ages made his head spin. He was literally twice the age of the youngest one, the big, zen-like-calm radiating bear, and the rest had yet to see thirty summers, other than the Ibex who carried herself with an aura of calm confidence which he admired. Although, a less analytical part of his mind said in a quiet voice, there's plenty to admire about all the women. He shut that down quickly, and returned his attention to Vresco, who had finished introducing himself as being the officer directly in charge of the 303rd and it's operations, and was about to explain why; information he already knew. He watched carefully for his new units' reactions to this; it would be of interest to his own future command style and the goals of their operations.

'The 33rd are a Special Operations unit dedicated to a single, clandestine mission. The Solernian Special Intelligence Bureau in combination with Military Intelligence and the Domestic Criminal Investigation Service have all identified a number of similar occurrences and disturbing trends growing within Solernia, and also with our foreign neighbours, allies and even nations considered to be hostile to Solernia. Through comparison and co-operation between agencies and also with our allies, we have identified a number of signs that point to some form of co-operative or joint direction of numerous criminal and international incidents over the last three years, possibly going back further than this. In short, The Kingdom and her her allies are being subjected to a campaign of ongoing action, the net results of which are destabilization of internal peace and security, the testing of our armed forces abilities to respond to indirect and direct threats, and the increasing number of Solernian people and those of our allies that have been killed, engaged in combat, or even abducted".
He paused, taking stock of the room, as the screen projected on the wall behind him showed a collage of news footage and stills from events over the last few years, along with ID shots of missing people.
"This has come to a head within the last six months after several prominent scientific personnel and notable members of the Royal Council and government were abducted during violent incidents in numerous townships and cities throughout Solernia. No other group has come forward, and - despite out best judgement and the general perception of the group in public consciousness and intelligence circles - we are lead to believe that the organisation known as 'Silent Line' are responsible.

Silverwind cast an eye over the room at that point. He'd already known this part, and remembered his own incredulous reaction when Vresco had said as much to him. It was like blaming dust devils or sea monsters, or something from a thriller nobel. But with no other option, and the amount of mounting data...
The lion continued.
"The 33rd are to work with national and international forces and agencies in order to expose whoever is responsible - if it is indeed Silent Line or not - and to bring them to justice, as well as discover and if possible halt their plans and rescue any captives taken. Due to the potential conspiracy involving Silent Line, the chain of command, logistics, and support will be kept small. The 303rd remain under my direct command and structure, and are classified as part of the Joint Intelligence Service, rather than the RSDF. Your role will be as much investigation as direct action, and you will frequently operate in foreign territory, both allied and not, via whatever privileges and deals we are able to bring to bear".
He paused again, this time a grimace setting over his face, ears turned back and tail twitching.
"I know it doesn't sound ideal, nor above board as we might like. It'll also be dangerous and potentially deadly, as you'll be operating mostly alone. But whatever support and aid we can give will be yours in full. You wouldn't be here if your skills and history weren't up to the task, nor would I be explaining this to you all.
"You have the choice to back down now, party to signing an official NDA on all you've heard here, and you can return to your units - although, you will be watched. Or, you can take on this role, serving under Captain Blade, and find out why Solernians have been kidnapped, why our towns and cities are being blown up and attacked, and what therese people actually even want the choice is yours. I'll leave you with the Captain to make his introductions and brief you for your first mission; I have other duties that need to be attended behind the scenes. Good luck to you all, and may whatever ancestors you follow smile on us all".

With that, the General left the room, leaving a moments' pause, before Silverwind stepped up to the briefing podium at one end of the room.
"Okay, listen up," he said with a half smile and an intense look to his single eye. "You all heard what the General said, and I know you'll have questions. So y'all can feel free to answer 'em. But believe me; I'm as half-disbelievin' it myself.
As fer me - I have experience, and a lot of it. I've fought virtually everywhere a GEAR can go, and a few more places 'sides. All I ask from anyone is that they do their best - because that's all I'll be givin' in return. I'll look out fer all of you, so long as you do the same fer me. I ain't a complicated kinda guy. I talk straight, shoot straight, an' expect the same from my people. We don't have ta be friends, but it sure's hell makes spendin' each day tagetha a lot easier if we are."
He tapped a holographic control for his pebble, and the screen behind him shifted.
"As fer what we'll be doin' here. This lovely little yacht we're on is the HMS Repulse. She's a patrol corvette. She'll be assembling with a coastal patrol vessel from the Anthilla Navy, and an amphibious assault ship from the Torenda Defence Force as part of a joint operation".
The screen behind him showed a stylised, simplified map, highlighting the two island nations to the east of Solernia, and the three ships assembling at a point in the ocean to the East.
"The three ships will then, as part of a joint task force, launch an amphibious attack on the island of Isenor, in the Northern Ocean. Isenor is administered by Anthilla - in the books, anyway - but is mostly uninhabited. However, intel points to the fact that it's been seeing a lot of air and sea traffic over the last 18 months, and surveillance flights have indicated a lot of movement and presence on the island - something we're going to go in and investigate, with the goal of recovering any personnel or records present in order to gather intelligence. It seems likely that this is the place that's been used a staging point or headquarters for some of the incidents in this region, along with increased piracy and hijackings in the area. We'll be staging via Aerial insertion from a heavy-lift helo from the TDF ship, and approaching under cover of night, in order to stage the attack in the pre-dawn twilight for maximum effect. We'll go over your individual roles closer to deployment, and when we're ready to stage from the ship. Our GEARs will be transferred aboard once we make the rendezvous, but personal tuning and familiarization can take place as the Repulse is underway in her helicopter hangar".
He looked over them all again, as the screen shut down, allowing more of a smile to creep onto his grizzled muzzle, and his tail wagged slightly, ears pricking with enthusiasm.

"I know we ain't worked together before. An' that none of y'all know me from any other grizzled lookin' bastard. But I'm keen to work with you, and for us to be the best we can be. I see a lotta potential out there, and we're goin' into this with the best GEARs, weapons, an' training the RSDF can give us - which in mah personal opinion is pretty much the best Arvara has too. I'll be in a cabin down the hall from the rest of ya, and we got eight hours ta get our shit together. Any questions, hit me on yer pebble, or jus' come an' ask. I'll be in the hangar along with the rest of ya after the ship gets underway. Chow is on in the mess hall from now as well, an yer new pilot suits oughta be in the bunk rooms set aside fer us where our gear was stashed. We can draw personal arms from the ships' armoury where ours were stowed 'fore we came aboard. Anythin' else, ask away. Dismissed in the meantime, troop".

As the last words left his muzzle, he felt a little tension leave his body; he hadn't realized how nervous he'd been. And not surprising; it had been literally years since he'd last been in front of people and briefed or debriefed them. Even the uniform has changed since you last served, old man, he thought wryly to himself, as he plucked at a hemline with the bionic fingers of his left hand.
He waited a few minutes for the group to say anything, leaning in a more relaxed posture on the podium and letting his single-eyed gaze drift across the assembled Arvarans before him.

[FourtyTwo]

@Silverwind Blade

Max took a seat, feeling that maybe indeed, everyone was quiet for reasons other than it just being the morning. He looked back across at the deer, the tag "Sobero" ringing a bell. She must have been in that other family Dad spoke about all those years ago, Max thought to himself....he heard something about their youngest signing up back when he joined the reconaissance company and underwent selection. Alas, for now he had a briefing to listen to, and General Vresco's presence here gave this all some legitimacy. It felt serious- he was involved at the top echelon of decisions in Solernia's national defence and the other lion in the room felt a little contrary to him.

Listening in, he couldn't place what kind of evil this was. Killing people was one thing, but abductions? This wasn't a terrorist group, it sounded like some kind of cult, like those headcases in Simal. Even then, it wasn't their motive, nor care to do it on a scale this wide. The disappearances of major figures in science and government just seemed odd. Like someone was trying to pull the bricks out of Solernia, and whatever it was, Max just seemed puzzled. It wasn't like the peacekeeping work in Embrai he was tasked with, it felt like an invisible hand. A threat you couldn't see, and what he couldn't see with his observer's eyes he couldn't hit. A knife in the dark.

Max continued to pay attention, hearing the scope of what this was going to be like as an operation. Joint task force work was fine, albeit sometimes scrappy by his standards- other armies were good but had their own protocols and ways of doing things. So long as they didn't get in the way of the ultimate role of this team, he was happy with that. Which again, he also was up for. The decision was very straightforward, even in spite of how dangerous it sounded. But then again, Max wanted the next step, and he'd be dammed if he went back to his old unit, watched by another group of bloody officers on top of his old CO. So it made sense to him, as he nodded to Silverwind, giving a direct and affermative look to say without words that he was in. His story itself, and the mission brief blended well, giving a flavour of what Max's new squad would be up to. Combined-forces, helicopter insertions and GEARs in an anti-piracy dawn raid, taking down an unknown enemey. It sounded like insanity to most people. Practically like suicide. But two things stood out to Max. They wouldn't be going in that force if they didn't stand a chance. The best gear, and a lot of effort to make sure they had the edge in this fight. And well....it did sound pretty fucking awesome. Maybe it was going to be exactly the opposite, but well, he didn't really see any other choice for himself right now. Whoever this enemy was, the 33rd were coming for them now. And if Max had his place here, he was going to take it.

-----

Listening into the last bit, Max nodded as he stood, looking up at the briefing map once again with his arms by side. He looked up to Silverwind, then back at the others before he spoke.
"Count me in. Insertion sounds like it'll be intense for Isenor. It'll certainly be shock and awe for whoever we're visiting...if everything says there is an enemy there. You've got my eyes for whatever you need, Captain- us recon boys are a bit madder than most so I'm all ears. If you need me, send a ping on my Pebble...otherwise I think I'll go and set my bunk and equipment up." He said, looking to the others, the lion stern in his own easily-going way.

"Sorry guys. But till I find a coffee, I'm really going to...." Max started, the lion yawning loudly as he did, covering his gob as he tried that impossible thing of trying to not yawn while you're talking to people.
"....find it difficult to stay awake! I'll be over in the mess hall soon if you want to chat!" His comedic timing seemed to have a charm at times, but man, Max really wished it wasn't like that. Without any further ado and social awkwardness, WO Bastion left the briefing room to set himself up. If he hadn't and kept talking, he'd have probably passed out, he figured to himself. Lack of caffiene did that to him, he humoured internally to himself.

----

With a sigh, Max headed out and into the corridor, looking for their sleeping quarters. The corvette was small, so it was a little more straightforward than other ships he'd been on. As such it made it easy to find, as he entered into his bunk, almost bonking his head on the doorframe. How the hell Fionn was going to get around this ship, Max did not know- as a lion he was having enough trouble as it was. Exhaling, he found his kit set up there already, already taking out some personal posessions and a few other things. Not a lot, but things he wanted to sort nonetheless. A locket of him and his siblings in a photo, as well as a small scrapbook of old squad photos and his personal life. Family, friends, the good tiems doing the lunacy he so loved. Memories he had, some of it felt like it was a world away from where he stood, right here. His usual pilot's gear was also there, the armour mounted up on a rack on the bunk from toe to helmet neatly placed atop. His Warrant Officer's insignia on the arm, and surname looking back at Max on the upper left of the chest. It was all back to reality again, he reminded himself. Even the trusty smart goggles he used, when sniping was there, a better tool for him given he prefered wider target purchase than the pilot's lid allowed for.

After setting up his own sea-bourne home from home, it was next stop, armoury. A simple place to go, as he didn't need to do a lot. The armourer could only nod as Max had headed in, finding the rack, that contained the rifle, pistol, and knife of his choice. That and the webbing that would attach to the torso of his suit, containing a variety of fragmentation and smoke grenades, alongside a couple of flares and IR beacons. His trusty PID was also there, the reconaissance monacle he called his laser designator, all-round observer and thermal imaging tool at range. That went alongside his drone, a tool stored commonly in his GEAR but also man-portable when he had to carry something extra on top of his pack. It paid to be ready for what was over the hill- and Max had seen his ass saved by it plenty of times.

Checking his rifle over, Max pulled the bolt back, squaring it against his shoulder, tilting it. The M23 ISS might have started life for some of the recon boys as a bigger infantry rifle that just didn't have the poke as a deisgnated marksman rifle, but with an overpressure barrel and a modified heavy-hitting 6mm round, Max made this rifle work more than needed. Heavy recoil, but it gave him exactly what he wanted. After all, you didn't need to bring an Anti-Material rifle when what you needed was just a bit more reach with your small arm. A 30 round mag was in the well, different to the usual 10 a marksman would choose- after all, Max had done, and would use this thing as an assault rifle, at a right-hand 45 degree having a green-dotted holographic optic that gave him a little more versatlity. Close quarters was something best saved for his M8 anyawy, the tricked-out recon-spec pistol now equipped with a LEM, silencer and a competition-spec red dot optic. He was told they'd get him a select-fire version of one of these one day, but alas, Max wasn't holding his breath, checking the 18-round mag out. All content, the lion had kind of been in his own zone, sorting out his own stuff first before coming back to it. Now he REALLY needed coffee.

-------

Which came just in time, Max thought to himself as he poured it into his cup from the large tank in the mess hall, the hall quiet with a few sailors hanging around for what to them was a fairly late breakfast. Sipping down the brew, he exhaled, looking around for his team. He couldn't pick them out yet, so quickly swiped out his Pebble and sent across a simple ping on their connected net. It was going to be a long eight hours. There was more work to do on preparing their GEARs, and on the ocean voyage, no doubt personal roles within the team. He sat and waited, waiting to see who was going to pop over and join him for a dose of morning wake-up call.

[Ramjammer]

She shuffled along with everyone else once the one sided introduction had been dealt out. Most everyone kept silent. Either too tired to bother with a greeting in turn, or otherwise preoccupied with their own internal musings.

If any among their number were caught up in wondering what the Hell they were all doing there, no one had to wait long for an answer. The Captain led them aboard in short order, forcing them to fall into step behind him. She was quickly ushered below deck with everyone else to drop off their personal effects before being unceremoniously crammed into a briefing room with everyone else.

Comfort wasn't the priority, but at least they gave her a chance to sit for the duration. That had to count for something.

Vonys had never beheld General Vresco in person before. She'd seen his image before, either in a newspaper or on a screen, but never had she had the privilege of sharing a room with him. Oh, she'd heard more than one tale about the man. Though whether any of them held a modicum of truth remained to be seen. They ranged from things held as common knowledge, if embellished, to tales so wild they went far beyond disbelief.

She had no intention of asking the man himself if any of them were true, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of everyone mere moments after being introduced. But Vonys couldn't help but entertain the idea that maybe General Vresco DID lose his eye while fending off a squadron of armed assailants with nary but a pair of wooden chopsticks at an unnamed hole in the wall eatery.

One could dream.

That particular brand of foolish musing would have to take a back seat to what lay in front of her.

None of it was good, of course. You didn't just gather a small group of specialists for clandestine meetings on strange boats unless it was for less than savory reasons. The specific nature of their task wasn't surprising to Vonys. But their supposed quarry was.

'The Silent Line?' She thought, the gears slowly turning in her head as the General laid bare what little intel they had. It made little sense. About as much as a ghost being charged with armed robbery. But that ever skeptical part of the woman's brain conceded that yes, it made a hell of a lot of sense.

People played by the rules. Even the ones that claimed they didn't, followed at the core a basic set of tenants. Exhibiting the same behaviors and habits across the board, even despite differences in language, culture and beliefs. Anyone that took the time out of their day to blow up buildings, murder people and then kidnap the survivors probably wanted something. It'd start with the crimes, the deaths, the chaos and then eventually someone would step forward to air their grievances with the rest of the world.

A tale as old as time. Or at the least, as old as War.

But there had been no demands of any sort. Generally, Vonys would have chalked such an anomaly up to the perpetrators leaving some clue to illuminate why they disregarded law and order. But as far as she could recall, or tell there'd been nothing of the sort. No calling cards, no cryptic messages. No one hacking internal servers and forcing them all to watch a poorly framed video. At least one person should have been posing over a dead body on social media.

Not a sound. Not a ripple on the surface. They were indeed dealing with ghosts.

Vonys understood people. It came with the job. And it was helpful to know how someone would react to having a dislocated shoulder shoved back into its socket. Not well most of the time. But the Ibex, for all her worldly knowledge, didn't know how to deal with ghosts. Especially the murderous kind.

She leaned further back in her chair, a hand coming up to stroke sagely at her beard as she eyed the intelligence projected just behind the General's shoulder.

'Had the goal even been pure Anarchy, there'd be a consistent pattern of behavior. I'm not seeing anything here.' She thought balefully, an ear flicking in mild irritation as she considered what she might be missing.

'I really am a Ghost Hunter now, huh?'

The prospect of leaving barely crossed the woman's mind. Being trailed for the rest of her life notwithstanding, the Ibex could freely admit to her curiosity being piqued. And naturally, she didn't see herself getting an opportunity like the one set before her again. She certainly wasn't one to take the kind of moral high ground that she'd go so far as to disparage what was being offered in that cramped room. If you wanted to get one over on a bastard, that meant acting like one.

Vonys sighed gently and rubbed at her muzzle. 'I'll be living here for a while then. It's not ideal, but the hell am I going to do about it?' The Ibex could swim, fairly decently in fact. But she wasn't the seafaring sort. Months aboard a sea bound vessel wasn't the manner of living situation she was accustomed to, but that would obviously change very soon.

She propped her chin in one hand and eyed the Captain of their little rag-tag team with pointed interest. The Ibex's nostrils flared as she chuffed in mild amusement. "Well, if you're inclined to offer your best, it be in poor form if I didn't do the same. I can't have any of you dying before your appointed time."

The mention of the best gear available definitely caught the woman's interest. Vony's was uncomfortably familiar with working with less than what should have been acceptable for a medic. Either through lack of funding, the warren of Military bureaucracy, or run-of-the-mill incompetence, she'd seen it all. She did all that she could to make it work, sometimes pulling a miracle out of thin air. Though she'd be more apt to say that she just pulled a solution from her ass. Being in a position where she didn't have to stress over inventory on any given day was tantamount to a vacation in her book.

"Well then, if that's all there is too it I should take my leave too. Before I do anything else, I want to get a look at the infirmary, get my bearings and all that. But a coffee sounds nice, and I'll gladly take you up on it at a later time." She nodded curtly at Max before snapping a quick salute at the Captains timely dismissal.

The confines of the ship weren't at all spacious, but it's small size made short work of traveling from one end to the other. After a quick stop to toss set her personal effects in her bunk to be unpacked later, Vonys set off in the direction she presumed the ship's infirmary to be. She clopped down the hall as quickly as she could, squeezing past other passengers, and ducking where pipes grazed a little too close to her horns.

The infirmary wasn't as large as she'd have liked, but it was big enough. It was well stocked too, and Vonys wasted no time in taking mental stock of her surroundings and all therein. Not a single square inch was spared from her stern gaze. It wasn't enough to know where every piece of equipment was, the Ibex would need a good idea of how she was supposed to move around the area, a task that became even more difficult when the addition of patients into the space was taken into consideration.

She opened draws, opened cupboards. She tested some of the equipment herself, ensuring that everything was calibrated and in good working order. Their inventory was well stocked, and she wouldn't be hurting for anything for a good long while, something that drew a small bleat of happiness from the otherwise serious Ibex.

Vonys was in the midst of rearranging some more commonly used equipment to her liking, all to avoid having to search for it. It took four minutes to bleed to death and Vonys didn't want to spend five rummaging around for whatever she needed to staunch the flow. Her Pebble pinged insistently, demanding her attention like a petulant child and had the woman not just left a briefing prior she'd have tossed the offending device aside.

Tapping at the screen revealed a message for all members of their odd little team, and she suddenly remembered that she'd agreed to at least meet Max for coffee. The scruffy Lion was certainly easygoing, but his words and mannerisms belied the sort of confidence that came from years of service. Unkempt mane aside, the man was a professional at heart even if perpetual slouch broadcasted otherwise.

She clopped her way back into the narrow halls and beelined for the Mess Hall. Besides meeting her squad mates officially, Vonys figured she may as well ask them about any medical conditions they might have. Their files would undoubtedly have them laid out neatly. But the terminology was ironically, too clinical for her liking. Face to face, she'd be able to get a better understanding of their needs and how they'd effect their day-to-day lives.

Breakfast was over, and there wasn't much to see in the Mess Hall save for a few stragglers. The coffee they served wasn't much to write home about, but it would have to do. Vonys was suddenly stuck by a pang of longing then, wishing that her friend Allister was there to brew her something more deserving of her taste buds. The foppish Stag was a handful on the best of days, but he was the King of Tea Ceremony.

Despairing over the Hall's clear lack of aromatic beverages, Vonys took a seat just across the table from Max and offered him a short nod by way of greeting.

"Feeling a little more lively? The coffee is shit, but at least it works." She groused, only lightly.

[FourtyTwo]

Max looeked over as Vonys came over wtih a cup of coffee in hand, nodding back as she took a seat. The ibex seemed to have a responsibility about her, with an eyes almost as stern as his. Of course, even Max could tell that came from different places. It felt like he'd been like this a lot less than she had, he mused internally. Nonetheless, she seemed like someone loyal, and someone worth caring about given she'd probably be the one piecing him back together if he got shot. Moreover, he didn't realise himself probably how similar he was to the ibex, just in a few small ways.

"Yeah. Just about. Yawning Max should be no more, Vonys." Max said with a slight chuckle, sipping it down a little further. With a gentle grasp, he took his cup and continued to sip, the hot caffineated beverage still boiling and half-burning his tongue. He was still balancing his need for caffiene against turning his mouth into a cinder, the awkward coffee sip in itself. But it was what it was, tasteless as it may have been, it did its job. His eyes even did seem to perk up, becoming less sullen and more outrospective. He'd made the effort to learn his squad's names from the link on the pebble, so at least he had that in his court.

"Either we just got really unlucky or we seem to be the only ones for this job. Shit, maybe both. Whatever we're going into, it feels risky. Not knowing what we're up against, or what we're taking on."

"Still....it's something different. At least it'll make a good story if it ever gets declassified." He mused with a slight low chuckle, sipping down more coffee as he brushed his mane back, sighing.

"So, you're a medic then, Vonys? I passed my basic course for field first aid...I've got respect for anyone who spends time piecing us back together in the worst conditions. Me, I guess I'm just better at looking ahead than I am at fixing people." Max gave a wry chuckle, sipping more coffee down as he did, looking to Vonys.

[Lurking Shadow]

It took a while, but Fionn’s brain was finally catching up with the rest of his body on this whole ‘being awake’ thing. Just in time to listen to the briefing as well, as Fionn took his seat. His mind wandering onto what could possibly be the subject of this secret operation. If this were a novel, it’d be some kind of ‘fate of the free world’ sorta deal like some crazy dictator getting a few dirty bombs. Then there would be a globetrotting adventure visiting (and maybe destroying) some popular landmarks, eventually culminating in a final showdown with the big bad in a very cinematic way. The results being the world being saved, the status quo upheld, and maybe a book deal and a film about it.

Though what Fionn ended up learning did not shock him, it was surprising nonetheless.

At first, he was skeptical, thinking it was simply finding a pattern where none existed. It did not help that a group shrouded in conspiracy (and which probably did not even exist) was to be blamed, but Fionn conceded that it was worth investigating.

Entertaining the thought this ‘Silent Line’ group existed, what would be their goal? Usually, in the pulpier novels, secret societies try to control the world by influencing the events going on, installing puppets in important positions, and of course having a method or two to control the populace.

Kidnapping some experts in the sciences would definitely help with a few of those, especially if one of the eggheads were developing tech that could be weaponized or to control others.

What about the political heads? That seems more of a ‘hold for ransom’ or ‘personal vendetta’ sort of deal than a ‘world domination’ sort of thing. Unless in the plausible, but rather unlikely (in his mind), event the Silent Line thought they could control them or the even less plausible idea that they were trying to make doppelgangers of them that they controlled.

Fionn was snapped back to reality before he could consider the matter any further, as the fox started on his part of the briefing. Though the last part was more interesting. For all the lack of care he tends to say he has, weaponry always did have a place in his heart. He tended to like the bigger guns because in his mind, if it couldn’t gib someone into a fine red paste then it was not a gun for him.

Ending on that thought and before leaving, he turned to Silverwind before speaking. “I am not partial to the idea of hunting some boogeymen, but if they do exist… Well sir, just supply me with the biggest gun you have and I’ll make em real dead, real quick.” He said with a half-smile, before heading towards his designated bunk, intending to get a little further though a novella before breakfast.

---

Fionn was a little more than halfway finished with the story, a particularly notable staple of Horror. It is a tale from an author long dead, but who established a legacy that still resonates today. Fionn has read through it once before, wanting to read it a second time to dissect the themes and philosophy within.

The plot follows a narrator who, wanting to explore his family history, hears of a small town that he considers might be worth a visit. In usual horror fashion, the narrator elects to ignore the warnings he heard of the town, considering it superstitious nonsense, and finds more than he bargains for. Needless to say, he ends up with the whole town conspiring against him and a shocking revelation of his genealogical history.

Thematically, the story serves as a tale of inherited guilt, given that the narrator’s revelations of his family history and the consequences he faces because of deeds done by his ancestors, but not himself. The narrator realizes that he will eventually reap the consequences of the actions his ancestors have sown, and eventually accepts the fact.

Before Fionn can read any further, his pebble alerted him of a message from Maxwell. After letting out a small growl of frustration, Fionn elected to join Max and (presumably) the others. He figured it won’t serve him well to be the ‘loner’ of the group. Though not determined to make friends, at the very least he should interact to some degree with them outside of missions.

---

Arriving in the room, he was surprised to see it practically empty before realizing breakfast was over.

‘Well, guess I fed my mind at the expense of my body.’ He thought, hoping lunch would be coming up soon. ‘Least I’m not feeling too hungry, I’ll be fine.’

Quickly scanning the room, it was not hard to find the others given the scarcity of people in the room. It seems at the moment it is just Maxwell and Vonys. Fionn made his way over and plopped himself in a seat right at a pause in the conversation they were having.

Taking a brief moment to scan the both of them (Who both seem to be at the tail end of waking up), and to consider his words carefully as he is not one to throw them lightly.

“Figured I’d take this opportunity to actually introduce myself since we did not do much talking earlier… I am Fionn and I'll be handling the Heavy Weapons. You probably thought I was shy, quiet, mute, or otherwise not much of a talker. That’s not entirely the case as I can be quite gregarious, its just that I often have little to say.” Fionn said softly. He did not have anything else to say about himself, at least not something he wanted to share with people he just met only hours before.

[Esailia]

Rishun made absolutely sure she was the last one to enter the ship, taking the time to tug out her pebble out to snap a photo of the outside of the ship. It was a hobby of hers to collect images of things that reside on and in the water, and her library was extensive. All manner of aquatic animals, a plethora of plants, dozens of coral types, and of course, boats and ships.

This one was special, though. With her name emblazened on the side, the Corvette HMS Repulse was a fine ship, and she deserved respect like any vessel regardless of size. Rishun had butterflies in her stomach as she gazed at the ship, a little lost in the feeling she had grown addicted to since joining the military. She had a passion for technology and all things that had a net signal, but seeing massive ships bobbing gently in the waves was a huge perk not had back home, where the biggest vessel to be seen regularly was a pontoon boat used for parties.

The otter realized she had been standing and admiring a little too long, and quickly scurried up the ramp to follow the group. She chittered worriedly as she zipped by sailors in the tight corridors, her sleek frame making it easy to catch up. Dumping her duffel onto a cot in an unclaimed cot she padded after the backs of those she stumbled in front of on the dock, into another room, this one a rather adorable baby boardroom.

Taking an empty seat she started to pull out her pebble out of habit, then an instant later thought better of it. How would it look to record what was most likely NOT a normal reassignment...She squirmed as she tried to retain what was being said, most of her life having an issue with listening and remembering important details no matter how hard she tried. She was a visual sort who could pick out a pattern in a long string of code if she had it in front of her. But her species worked against her in this instance. Otters communicated in a sort of audio shorthand when they speak their language, and as such regularly repeat themselves as a conversation carries on normally between them. In this case, Rishun had to make do without notes.

The biggest thing she picked out as the briefing went on was this group, Silent Line. She knew the name, and in her off time had researched everything she could about it. But like the Solernian military, she couldn't find a trace. But she believed they existed. Any cyber swimmer worth their circuits would try and uncover any mystery on the nets, yet Rishun and countless others had yet to piece anything together. She knew of the increased incidents in the last few months. But even with extra clues, there were no links, no currents she could swim down, all the streams ending in eddies of disappointment.

The general, which she honestly dd not recognize, handed the briefing over to her new commander, she perked up. At last more specific details! No more history lessons! And what's more Silverwind was detailing their first assignment in the east ocean. While she was not from there herself, she had a cousin (several times removed, typical otter family style) who lived near that coastline.

She was genuinely excited, grinning ear to fuzzy ear as talk turned to Intel gathering. This was her chance to get ahead of all the competition on the nets, finally connect the dots, and expose this imaginary Silent Line! It was all she could do to avoid yipping gleefully in the middle of the briefing.

None of the other details stuck with her, and the briefing came to a close, with Rishun waiting patiently until Silverwind wasn't occupied by another member of the team, then walked up and gave a firm salute.

"Aah'khkh, Commander. Technophile Rishun Sprinsteam. I am officially accepting the assignment, and excited I was chosen. I have done my own research into the name Silent Line, and will lend what I have found to our efforts here. If you wish I can get to work securing the squad com link with my own security systems, or anything you might want for the Dieachuwaz'ounkh. Just let me know. Yehney'Aah'khkh, Sir."

She saluted again, and quickly rushed out the door. Otters tend to forget to listen to replies to their inquiries...

_________________________________________

Rishun slithered her way back to her bunk, noting the Brown Bear, Fionn, in one of the rooms reading. She blinked. An interesting pass time for sure, and she didn't want to disturb him, instead opting to hop onto her own cot and whip out her pebble, quickly flicking the personal access codes she programmed in before getting to work appraising herself on the most recent kidnappings and instances of piracy or hijackings on the eastern board of Solernia. Who knows, maybe something would reveal itself to her...

She was deep in article number nineteen when her pebble pinged at her. She tapped the save page and flicked her screen to address the alert, noting Max the Lion wanted to share the morning. Well, she could keep reading another time. She pocketed her pebble and, out of habit, bounded out of the bunk room on all fours and into the corridors in search of the smell of coffee.

______________________________________

The otter skidded past the entrance to the Mess hall a minute later, having gotten directions from a passing sailor after a few wrong turns. She entered and pushed herself up onto her back legs, waving to the trio already there ahead of her.

"Hi! Rishun Sprinsteam, nice to introduce myself! WaitthatswrongImean, Nice to meet you all! I don't like coffee much but I am happy to muyn with you still."

*utterly smooth....* she thought, rubbing the back of her neck as she chuckled nervously....

[Ramjammer]

She chuckled at the Lion, a low raspy sound. "You're awake, which is all anyone can ask for at this hour. But knowing that we've only got eight hours until it hits the fan is making me rethink this whole coffee thing now."

The Ibex stared into her half-empty cup with a mild grimace before shrugging and chugging the rest down. It was barely hot, and thus she could avoid burning her throat, but sitting it out so long had rendered the flavor extremely bitter. Vonys shuddered almost imperceptibly at the foul taste and she could swear that her fur bristled instinctively. Normally on such a tight schedual the Ibex would try to cram in at least an hour or two of sleep, she wouldn't be getting any otherwise. But she'd since made the call to do the exact opposite, and would have to live with the consequences.

'And just think. You get to suffer like this for the foreseeable future.' The little voice in her head nagged.

At least her present company wasn't so awful.

Vonys flicked an ear and perked slightly as Max spoke once more, and she shrugged in response. "I'd say it's a little of both. Things like this, they don't just pick anybody for the job. But being the first, and possibly last choice puts a certain pressure on you, doesn't it?"

She gently set aside her newly emptied mug and merely allowed the caffeine to do its work while trying to push the foul aftertaste from her conciousness. Under normal circumstances, Vonys was sure that the General would have chosen among many medical professionals as candidates for whatever the hell they were doing. But he'd been rather upfront about how little help and support they'd be getting in the field, a red flag if there ever was one.

"I think....That they want people that aren't just good at the job. I think they will put our survival skills and whatever instincts we possess to the test in every way." She offered, her brow creasing visibly in thought. "As for what kind of story it'll be....Hm. Probably not the kind I'd be telling my grandchildren, you know?"
She huffed out a small laugh, propping her chin onto a hand and affixing Max with an even gaze. "I was a Park Ranger before all of this, so I know what I'm doing and I can tell you you're in capable hands." Her eyes took on a somewhat serious glint and her voice dropped slightly. "Just promise me that if you get yourself injured don't try to fix it yourself, all right? Staunch the bleeding if the need calls for it, but don't uh....pull anything out please."

It was common knowledge, at least among those in the medical field that yanking a foreign object out of one's body without supervision helped nothing. That never stopped most victims from trying. It was a natural, if faulty line of thinking. And it was oddly why Vonys preferred helping children over an adult. A lost and hurt child would just hunker down and cry until help arrived. Adults? They always tried to fix the problem themselves, and nine times out of ten they just made it worse.

Sadly, the military was not composed entirely of children, but chock full of grown ass professionals. And what was an adult if not a large child? Vonys didn't know, and wouldn't pretend to. Half of the time she wasn't sure if she should be allowed to call herself an adult.

She sniffed, shaking her head at the man as if to dispel whatever negative thoughts he might have had. "If you're trusting me to keep you from bleeding out, then I can trust you to look out for us Max. Someone has to, and I have a feeling I'll be busy soon."

Heavy and thunderous footsteps drew the Ibex's attention briefly from the Lion sitting across from her and she swiveled an ear towards the source of the noise. Fionn was a presence heard and felt, more than seen. At first anyway. Once he fully came into view, there was little else that Vonys could reasonably see. Vonys swore that the table nearly lifted off of floor from the impact of the larger man seating himself, but she couldn't reasonably be sure.

She smiled and gave the Bear a quick two-fingered salute, ears pricked attentively as he spoke. His voice carried a sense of gravitas even amidst something as small as a greeting. She had initially assumed him to be the quiet type, either not fond of people, or conversation. She'd been wrong, though his correction did nothing to offend her. Even he seemed to be aware of how he presented himself to others.

Vonys stroked her beard thoughtfully, her eyes drifting shut as she hummed in consideration of the Bear's greeting. "Gregarious, eh? Good then. I was worried that you were the type to keep a tight lid on everything, would have made my work a little more difficult." She chuckled softly.

"I'd say getting information from some people is like pulling teeth, but that's a bit harsh. At least for the teeth pulling I can just knock them the hell out and work in peace." The Ibex shook her horned head and craned her neck slightly to look up at Fionn. "But since you're here and you're so gregarious, then I can ask you a few questions. Max too, if you don't mind. I need-."

Whatever Vonys needed to say was forced to the wayside at the abrupt arrival of one very small, and very energetic Otter. That in and of itself wasn't strange. Otters were short, and they were overflowing with energy. But having one crowd your space out of nowhere, even if unintentionally could be a bit jarring.

Vonys blinked owlishly at the other woman, trying to piece together whatever she was saying though the typical Otter chatter made the effort longer than was usual.

"Rishun is it? Well, it's a good thing you don't like coffee, you don't seem to need it. It'd be nice if you could share that energy with the rest of us." She grinned crookedly at the Otter before reaching out to pat a seat nearby. "Come, have a sit. It's good you're here for this. The more people, the better."

Vonys placed both hands on the table's surface and glanced around at everyone to ensure that she had their attention for the moment. "Don't worry, it's nothing serious. But as you're probably well aware by now, I'll be this team's Medic for the foreseeable future. Normally I look at your files to get a sense of any existing conditions you may have. Allergies, illness, chronic pains. But I much prefer sussing it out face to face. No two patients handle injury the same way. At least not mentally. And everyone develops their own habits and methods for adapting to them."

She sat back in her seat, hands clasped firmly on the table's surface as she spoke, taking a moment to eye each person in turn. "You don't have to tell me anything you want to be heard by others, of course. I'm more than willing to set aside time to hear you out. But the better I understand you all, the better I can help you going forward. I don't want, or need any nasty surprises out there."

Vonys reached up to tap at one of her large curling horns with a finger. "My Grandfather was a Yak. A long time ago, he lost sight in one of his eyes, a hunting accident. After that approaching him from the left side was a good way to spook him, so we just stopped doing that. Or we at least made sure he could hear us coming from that direction. Naturally, as he got older and his hearing started to go, that wasn't such a good idea."

The Ibex chuckled ruefully and shook her head at some unspoken memory. "But accidents happen, you know? An old friend, a fishing buddy he hadn't seen in years didn't know and clapped him on the shoulder, scared the piss out of him. My grandfather never heard him coming whipped those horns of his around so fast his friend almost lost an eye too. It can be easy for a lot of people to forget that a serious enough injury can change things for you. It doesn't have to make your life worse. Just....different. You'll do things differently, see them differently. Respond differently. It happens, and it's my job to make sure that we're all on the same page."
She smiled, softly and gazed at everyone seated around her. "So please, if you're hurting now, or you start hurting later just let me know. I'm here to treat you and make your lives easier. Not judge."

[redbaron1234]

Leslie Sobero

General Vresco was an unmistakable figure to any soldier, and his presence instantly ratcheted her attention up another notch. Whatever this was, was going to be significant. After a quick salute, and settled in to listen to the general. Eyes and ears forward, she absorbed every word they said. Some of these incidents she had heard of from the news, but the idea that they were connected would've sounded like a conspiracy theory. But then again one of the highest ranked officers in the nation had just told them they were about to launch an international operation over it.

She was, on paper, green as hell, even if that same paper said she was highly trained. Someone must've put in a very good word for her. It kinda figured that after a year of waiting she'd be assigned to some spec-ops spy thriller mission that would likely be as off the books as a dirty joke . Still, she wasn't about to step down, and it seemed like the five other soldiers with here weren't either. "Count me in sir, didn't become an engineer to say 'No'." She looked around the room again. "But if that's all you have for now, I should get my kit ready and settle in, don't want to be unprepared when it's go time."

---

Using her pebble and the ship's network, it was an easy matter to find her bunk and stow her pack. Giving the bear a quick 'Hello', she headed to the armory. It was also simple enough to find the armory and give the quartermaster her load-out list to reserve, the explosive charges requiring extra care to get ready. She'd have to come back to inspect them herself, just to make sure they were properly assembled. Contrary to what cartoons and pop culture showed, the mad bomber types didn't last long with explosives, nor would those that were overly nervous about them. As her instructor, a ferret with a prosthetic had said, 'one has to handle these with the same ease as a baker handles dough'.

Leaving the configuration of her GEAR until they got more information, she decided to look for that cup of coffee that everyone else had gone in search of. By the time she got to the mess hall, the rest of the new squad had formed and were already talking.

She smiled, softly and gazed at everyone seated around her. "So please, if you're hurting now, or you start hurting later just let me know. I'm here to treat you and make your lives easier. Not judge."

@Ramjammer

Sitting down with a lukewarm cup of coffee that was more creamer than coffee, and a handful of sugar cubes, she sat down across from the Ibex. "Sorry I'm late," she said with a light-hearted tone. She put a sugar cube in her mouth and dank enough coffee to dissolve it completely, all in one go.The sugar didn't help mask the bitterness at all, and she grimaced after finishing. "Anyway, my name is Leslie. Nice to meet you all." Popping another sugar cube into her mouth, she continued. "I'm a Combat Engineer. If you need a door blown open, a trench dug, or just any sort of obstacle removed, I'm your gal."

[FourtyTwo]

The lion chuckled at Vonys's first comment, knowing she had a little crack at least in there. She'd get on well with him, he knew that much- at least she wasn't going to sit there and be too downbeat about all of this. Even if the coffee wasn't great, Max was at least awake enough to hold conversation and enjoy the company of people, rather than sulk into his own tired state. He listened to her, nodding about the injury in particular. He'd known all too well about that. But then again, medics wanted their job to be simple. At the very least, it was good advice for someone else, but Max didn't need that. Not that he would make a point of it. Vonys would slowly see that, or at least, Max hoped so. He wasn't here to make friends but well....he didn't need to be a dick. Well, and she trusted him back at least. So hey, there was that, he contemplated internally.

She sniffed, shaking her head at the man as if to dispel whatever negative thoughts he might have had. "If you're trusting me to keep you from bleeding out, then I can trust you to look out for us Max. Someone has to, and I have a feeling I'll be busy soon."

@Ramjammer

"That I can do. If I do my job properly, you shouldn't be as busy." Max replied quickly to her last comment to him, sipping down the rest of the cooling beverage as he placed the cup down and turned to see the bear. Even at 6"8, the tall lion did have to look up at the bear and was physically intimidated on pretty much all fronts- and beyond that it was a kind of gravitas, a certain straight-to-the-point mentality Fionn had. That and the fact that well, Max knew who was going to send 40 mils down range when shit needed to go kaboom. He'd used a grenade launcher before, and knew full well what it took to carry one day in, day out. It was not a weapon you used because you were trying to eliminate a position, it was an implement of total destruction and a terrain delete key. Weaponised chaos, in that at least a bullet had a point to it. A 40 milimeter HE grenade was a giant "Fuck you" to anyone in its way. A GEAR could be deadly in its own right with the right loadout, but a bear with a grenade launcher....Max made a very strong mental note that he'd rather be afar and keeping his eye down his optic rather than through his naked eyes when he saw that shit happen. When you needed a guy on foot to stop a GEAR, you didn't have a single opportunity to fuck around after all. Even if Fionn was the quiet, gentle giant that he was beneath, you just didn't entertain the idea of stopping a heavy weapons specialist with a boomstick. He noted Vonys's comment to that, nodding himself.

“Figured I’d take this opportunity to actually introduce myself since we did not do much talking earlier… I am Fionn and I'll be handling the Heavy Weapons. You probably thought I was shy, quiet, mute, or otherwise not much of a talker. That’s not entirely the case as I can be quite gregarious, its just that I often have little to say.” Fionn said softly. He did not have anything else to say about himself, at least not something he wanted to share with people he just met only hours before.

@Lurking Shadow

"I guess you let your weaponry do the talking. I don't blame you. I understand that, believe me. You'll have my laser designator when you need things blown up from further away." Max remarked to Fionn, as he heard the exitable otter come over quickly, herself the parraleled opposite to Fionn. Bursting with energy.

"Hi! Rishun Sprinsteam, nice to introduce myself! WaitthatswrongImean, Nice to meet you all! I don't like coffee much but I am happy to muyn with you still."

*utterly smooth....* she thought, rubbing the back of her neck as she chuckled nervously....

@Esailia

She probably had not much idea of just how scary war could be when it was in this sort of field, Max judged as his judgemental self would, but hey, that would come. Though he sympathised, she was a bit awkward, self aware at least. So long as she was good at electronic warfare and hacking, he'd trust her. If not, Max wouldn't be past his opinion. But hey, he was a bit of an arse on that front, even he knew that himself. It was what it was, as she spoke in a species-specic dialect. Again, Max couldn't place the accent, but it was something to it. Awkward as she was, at least she was happy, confident. And Max was pushing down that inner bastard to let some open-mindeness through, or at least, till he saw her do what she do best and his predjudice could least shift as Vonys replied. Her story was insightful, and well, reminded him maybe not too clear and breach doors with her in tow. Lest he got prodded in his eyes by her horns. He'd served with a reindeer in the past before, and her antlers were always a good chuckle for everyone in the team when they needed to set up an observation post; hiding and hiding away from everything.

Then there was Leslie, sugared up and probably inbetween all four, the explosives expert. It was hard to place, but then again, a combat engineer could be very much anyone, so long as the job of repairing and blowing shit up in equal measure was done. And most importantly, like any engineer Max had ever met, exceptionally to the point. No bullshit. Max could have his own, but he did respect straight-talking people more than anyone, just a deeper ability to trust and understand what they do more than anything. Something he could do better, but then again, Max wasn't going to get out of trouble by keeping things simple now, was he?

"Anyway, my name is Leslie. Nice to meet you all." Popping another sugar cube into her mouth, she continued. "I'm a Combat Engineer. If you need a door blown open, a trench dug, or just any sort of obstacle removed, I'm your gal."

@redbaron1234

"Aye, Leslie. Good to meet you too....Vonys will keep us all going, you'll keep our gear working, so that works." Max simply replied with a light awkward chuckle., before Vonys could as he looked back over to the ibex, shaking his head about her comment.

She smiled, softly and gazed at everyone seated around her. "So please, if you're hurting now, or you start hurting later just let me know. I'm here to treat you and make your lives easier. Not judge."

@Ramjammer

"Nothing yet. I really hope it doesn't end up changing. I've got way too much on my plate to deal with before getting hurt." Max chuckled, shaking his head almost as he knew just what a fallacy it was in itself. Max looked to the others, aware they'd probably be wondering what on earth Max was here for and why on earth the lion was here. It was almost a snapping twist, a cut back to something serious and the other side of Max. The one that wasn't just friendly and warm, but the harsh, weathered soul of the late twentysomething.

"Anyway, building what Vonys and Leslie said, I'm Maxwell Bastion, Reconaissance and Marksman specialist. Call me Max. I've served multiple tours in Anti-Insergency, Counter-Terrorism, peacekeeping, all sorts of stuff in Embrai and Faraenal involving looking through the lens of a rifle scope or my PID in the 505th. Intervening when required, and it's not often pretty. I try to be honest with whoever I work with, so I guess I'll say it now before we go into this....I guess you've all serving, so it's easier. I've seen...and done some really awful things in Recon."

"Things that would change your perspective on Arvarans...it'll make you feel sick. Not things to be proud of, but things that have saved a lot of lives in a way Vonys's skills can't. It's the part of war where I guess there are no good decisions and it sometimes just comes down to dumb, stupid luck on who lives and who dies. It's just mad." He begun, an almost poetic undertone in his now quite sullen voice. As he spoke he was looking to them all, knowing it was probably the gut-wrenching opposite of what some were in this line of work for. But, that was Max really. A sharp implement, from his personality to his intellect, to his approach to war, and his role in it wasn't one that was pretty. He didn't want to ruffle feathers for Fionn, given it was likely similar, but given his experiences he felt compelled.

"But we've all got to make those decisions eventually in this line of work. Understanding who it is, and where the bad guys are that want to end you, your friends or just innocent bystanders does tip the odds in your favour though. Information is power on the battlefield. So believe me when I say I will do whatever I can to tip those scales for us when I operate. Feel free to get your HUD linked up to my UAV and patch in when you need a second pair of eyes around a corner or over a hill. You can all look after yourselves, but I can give you a second opinion pretty quickly." He said, looking at his mug for a moment, realising it was empty before realising he should probably stop ranting. He'd probably said enough- and probably erked the few here a little, but still, it had to be said.

"I'm not always this miserable, but I just like to protect the people I serve with and not sell it all short. It's just a heads up for when we're out there. When we're out of the line of fire however...I suppose you get a coffee deficient lion who happens to like catching waves. Just a shame I haven't got my surfboard with me on this boat...damn, now that is something I should have thought about."

[Rhona W]

"Good to know that we can depend on you, Max" Silverwind said from behind the table, leaning on the counter in the small galley with a cup of coffee to his own muzzle. "And I can very much relate to what you're saying too, Bastion. I've been there; not Recon, sure; but in other SF. An' it's like the big guys says; you do awful shit when you're doin' it fer your country in places that are so crap they don't have proper names, to people who'd do ten times worse. Or have. But it's why ya do it that matters, an' the people you do it for. We do what we do so other people can sleep safe in their beds. And frankly, those people that hurt people, and do awful shit; they ain't ones I'm gonna lose my sleep over. Sounds shitty but", he gave a slow shrug. "They chose to hurt people and destroy things."
He took a long drink of the coffee and then grimaced.
"Ugh, I don't even like this stuff," he muttered, before setting the cup down. "Oh, by the way, Lieutenant Sprinsteam," he said with an amused smile on his muzzle. "In answer to your question before you disappeared out the door, run me through your comm system and its' specs after this sortie. If we have more time, I'll let you go through it with the maintenance crews and if they think it's a good idea and you can work it with them, we'll install it." He winced. "...If you feel up to convincing maintenance crews that a pilot's idea for a GEAR is better than theirs, that is..."
He raised an eyebrow knowingly and gave a slight smirk. Maintenance crews and GEAR crews were forever best frenemies, and the GEARs their precious children caught in the middle of their parents. Pilots thought their machines belonged to them and the tech crews looked after them while they weren't using. For the tech crews, the Pilots only used the machines they cared for and looked after and knew how to take care of - and abused them while doing so. But nonetheless, both needed each other.
The fox gave an amused sigh and shook his head, clearing it of the thought.
"Anyhow, sucks I seem to have missed out on all th' socialisin'. But, I'm gonna head.. down? aft? to the ass end?" he gave an amused smile and shrugged "whatever the hell it's called _{I ain't in the navy}, an' try my GEAR on fer size. Gotta make sure that the seat's adjusted properly, an' it's got the right cup holder installed. See ya down there, folks".

[Esailia]

"Wish I could just zlikh all my equipment with my energy! I try to keep it down but hey that's just what Uukhma is! That's why we got the thickest fur, it's to contain it all. But yheney ask about what hair products I use, I can't keep track of 'em grath'yunka."

All this poured out as she was sitting down, her hand waving with her speech almost randomly. Never ask an otter to socialize, you will get lost down a tangent and need to ask directions to get back to the main subject. Every time they open their mouth.

She quieted down as Vonys started up again, her embarressment keeping her mouth closed to stop from interrupting every five seconds as she learned about her new squad. Taking notes with her pebble with everyone speaking. She didn't record out of a respect she had been taught ages ago in basic training when one time she was caught recording a particularly nasty interaction between the drill instructor and another cadet...

Vonys being a medic could make use of a program that could tell her details of each squad member out in the field, tailored just for her to streamline the process of both keeping track of vitals as well as treatment of each member.

Leslie the combat engineer. Now that would be interesting to play with. Technology and physical power combining to make things go boom, crunch, or bang. A tailored readout for her personal gear to help keep track of any details she wanted to...

Max the gun toting badass. He already offered to allow them remote link to his optics, but what if she coded something one step further, with enhanced optics on all the GEARs as well as equipping their infantry weapons with visual optic hookup as well so command could report instantly a visual to Silverwind on the field, thus cutting out the need for one of the squad to explain. Maybe even allow Silverwind himself access to it while in his gear....

Rishun giggled like a tiny mad scientist at the possibilities, not really catching onto the downer subject of killing people until the room went silent for a few moments as things settled down. It was then she realized they might be waiting for her, and she quickly spoke up again.

"So uh, Aah- er. Hello, I am Lieutenant Rishun Sprinsteam, tech specialist and guru on all things with an electric pulse. I haven't been sent anywhere outside the country, but I have been into international waters for some surveillance missions. My travels are across the net. I have been to every corner of the dark web, designed too many programs to count, though one of them was brought up in my recruitment interview for being a little too invasive on the military network..."

She coughed, her speed starting out slow but had sped up as she became more enthusiastic. Rishun was clearly making an effort to avoid using Otter slang or words, sometimes stopping mid sentence to think for half a second before continuing.

"I will be trying my best to lend all my skills for this team. If you ever feel like your GEAR or any personal equipment could do with a technical touch, let me know. I am already compiling a list of additions or upgrades to your gear that I will present when we have more time."

She shut her mouth with a downward stare to the table, her furry face thankfully preventing the others from seeming the blush on it. She was proud she stayed on topic, and it was this inward monologue that almost made her miss Silverwind speak about her squad comm idea, and she quickly nodded with a "Yhe'Sir!" and a salute out of instinct, which she quickly put her hand back down and returning to examining the edge of the table.

But it was at that moment of weakness Rishun would endure another embarrassment in the form of a little mechanical creature clacking to life from a container the same size and shape as the batteries on her tail. It climbed up to rest on her shoulder, rubbing its nose and squeaking with a clear speaker hollowness.

She quickly grabbed it and muttered "Scrap ney'yunka! Return home!" To which it meeped at her and crawled up to her shoulder and sat again, much to Rishun's frustration. She repeated the command, but the little tiny mechanical squirrel refused to budge.

HUffing, she just let it sit there for now, instead standing and giving a small bow "I should follow suit if you wish to speak now about the comm system. Better to prioritize it before we go out on our first mission."

[Lurking Shadow]

Fionn sat silently, occupied more by his own thoughts than the conversation, waiting for if and when someone would mention him or someone would involve him in the conversation in anyway.

He pondered the words he said and whether he said them effectively, as language can be tricky and words can confer different meanings in different context. Something he always had some difficulty with given the general lack of direct interaction with others in his life. The other part of the shifting nature words have is the experiences of others. The background they come from can manipulate their understanding of words more than any contextual clues that can be gleamed by indirect observation. All important things to whether the message was conveyed successfully or not. Something Fionn strives to do by formulating the right words in the right order, as incorrectly conveying messages can lead to negative results of varying degrees. Part of knowing which words to use is based on knowing the other members of the conversation and how they might portray the message.

Which lends itself to a catch 22. Fionn wants to avoid conveying false messages, which is easily done by avoiding conversation all together, but he needs to conversate in order to learn about others and how they might view information. This leads to a bit of indecisiveness on his part. Should he talk and risk failure to convey the message? Would this choice of words convey the message better than these other words? All in all, this is another part, albeit small, of himself that he loathes, adding to his self-deprecation. Self-hatred would lead a lot of people to depression, but fortunately (or not, depending on the context) Fionn is too stubborn to fall into such a state, letting the anger fuel his endeavor for self-improvement. He is mad at his mistakes, not himself, and he’ll be damned if he is condemned by them.

She smiled, softly and gazed at everyone seated around her. "So please, if you're hurting now, or you start hurting later just let me know. I'm here to treat you and make your lives easier. Not judge."

@Ramjammer

“Not feeling any pain now, but I’m sure that’ll change soon enough. Rest assured though Doc, because I fully intend to dole out the injuries rather than receive it.” Fionn said, ending in a small laugh.

“I guess you let your weaponry do the talking…”

@kingkonrad

This idea intrigued Fionn. He never thought about it much, but what are bullets but blatantly a obvious Fuck You to the recipient. In a way bullets, and by extension similar lethal implements, are very specific words given form. Form in a way that is universal to all languages. It’s odd to think about, but in this sense he is very talkative. Fionn could hardly help as this brought a faint grin to his face before considering what words to say.

“It’s just that words are these shapeless, shifting things. The meaning they hold is defined by what is understood about the words themselves and what context they hold with the others. Sometimes, people are influenced, by their different background than the speaker, to infer different meaning than what is intended…” Fionn spoke quietly before pausing briefly, looking for the right words.

“…but bullets, well I am hard pressed to find a better way to express my dislike of someone than filling them with lead.”

Fionn finished, with a tone to match his conviction, and feeling confident that everyone understands that his quiet nature is only a part of him. Truly, he believes, there is no greater way to make your thoughts known than a few very small (and on occasion, very large) objects headed towards someone at frighteningly fast speeds.

Overall, Fionn is starting to warm up to this group of strangers, starting to figure them out a little more. Like it or not, He’ll need to put some trust into the others. Trust in their ability to cooperate in the tribulations that are sure to come. It is likely to get easier in the future as the strongest bonds are formed in the face of adversity.

Of particular note is Max. He seems to be most similar to Fionn as far as personality or worldview. Though He cannot say as to what exactly he has gone through, he feels some sympathy from a similar experience though he may have came at a different conclusion. Fionn barely remembers the times he had to make decisions. He barely even thinks about the aftermath. All he remembers is having orders, and following them to the best of his ability. His first kill was something that happened quick, he barely remembers the circumstances. He only remembers seeing something, and acting on it by the instinct drilled into him in basic training. Sure it came back to him later, but he learned to realize shortly afterwards that when seconds matter, hesitation ticks some of them away. Hesitate more, and you might run out of time and be forced into an outcome you may or may not like. Acting fast is the only way to be certain of the outcome, whether good or bad, and often, the outcome that comes from hesitating is worse. Ever since, it has been relatively simple for him. He just asks himself a few questions. Friend or Foe? Threat or harmless? Priority or not? Those three questions are all he’ll ever need in most cases. It takes a fraction of a second to pick a person out from the environment. A fraction of a second to determine if it is hostile or friendly. A fraction of a second to determine if it is a threat. More questions take more time to answer, and time is a resource that once lost can never be gained.

At least, that’s how he dealt with it. It may be different than how Max figured it out, but that is what works for him. He knows he has to act, as someone else will not always be able to act for him.

Aside from Max, there is also the otter, Rishun, who seems to be practically antithetical to himself. Her energetic, constantly active nature is a backwards reflection of himself like a paring of the sun and the moon. She also seems to, at least so far, be constantly embarrassing herself as if the universe itself was displeased at her existence. He made a note to keep an eye on her as she and trouble will likely make a pair. Though on the other hand he respects her use of those… ‘otter’ words, whatever language that is. He can always admire someone who appreciates their own culture, even if he himself does not show it as visibly as her.

For Silverwind, he already has an impression of him, though he will scrutinize it more heavily considering him being the leader. Nevertheless, Fionn is fully prepared to follow orders, and die if need be, out of respect to the chain of command, and perhaps later, as to respect of Silverwind himself if he proves to be worth of it.

As for everyone else, He is not sure enough to have much of an opinion of yet. Only time will reveal the bonds that will be formed. As the crucible of conflict will surely turn this group bound by the selection of some higher-up into a force capable of fighting well together.

[FourtyTwo]

"Sounds shitty but", he gave a slow shrug. "They chose to hurt people and destroy things."

@Silverwind Blade

Max nodded, as he looked back at the fox.
"The greater good's an awful thing. But I'm glad we're on the same page, Captain. Last thing I want is anyone I love being affected." He said, feeling he had a lot in common already with their CO on that point, so far at least. He listened in to the commander and the others on the table, a little empty as he listened in carefully.

Max adjusted his collar on his fatigues, the lion noticing the presence of their commanding officer as if it was coming out of nowhere. He had probably heard what the lion had to say, and well, Max was pleased to say the least that the captain agreed. At least it was all level to him, as he listened in, knowing the cyclops-prosthetic arm-having fox had probably had an story for those that Max would find a little squeamish. For most it would have meant the end of service, immediately- so to see him back was remarkable. It meant he had probably still passed all the tests and operational requirements to keep going even in spite of such disabilities, but as Max remembered of course, disability was just a perception. No doubt Silverwind didn't even notice his handicaps, and if anything, was far more driven and detirmined not to let it rule him.. The other cuts and scars he had too didn't just show one moment of intensity, but a career made out of being on the line.

“…but bullets, well I am hard pressed to find a better way to express my dislike of someone than filling them with lead.”

@Lurking Shadow

Max could only chuckle heartily to Fionn's comment, nodding.
"Remind me to stay the absolute fuck out of your way, Fionn. Few other people I wish I could do that to but hey, I kind of prefer being free and able to go catch some waves rather than sit in a brig for the rest of my life." Max added chuckling, his undertone a little sarky but honest to Fionn at least- no doubt Fionn meant buisness, and he could tell that the bear understood it likewise. The bear had come to perhaps decisions like Max had, and reacted differently. All Max knew was, there was no good place to stand in a massacre, the bear probably seeing that too. You just did what kept you alive and dealt with the flames as quickly as you could. It seemed simple to override basic instinct, but even then, Max knew that telling other people to shut the fuck up and do exactly as you said, even if you didn't fully believe it or wanted to do it, was a hard thing. Especially when that meant sometimes doing the worst thing that you could do in a recon operator's job. Doing nothing. Just watching, and seeing things happen that you had absolutely no ability to change, influence or stop. Really bad things. And that, that was what haunted Max the worst. Seeing stuff and feeling totally, utterly helpless to it. Part of him wondered, if he just ran in and got killed, would it have stopped something? Probably not, he made a rational choice. But it pecked in his mind from time to time, even with his steely personality, it was a part of the job.

Turning to Rishun, the otter's exitement was also not dying down throughout, but even Max could see the little flying-squirrel like device clamber up Rishun's shoulder, taking it in for just a moment.

But it was at that moment of weakness Rishun would endure another embarrassment in the form of a little mechanical creature clacking to life from a container the same size and shape as the batteries on her tail. It climbed up to rest on her shoulder, rubbing its nose and squeaking with a clear speaker hollowness.

@Esailia

She seemed a little irritated, but Max was interested. Well, she certainly knew her way around coding. But moreover, actual robotics and the mechanical side too. As primative as that was, that would be an absolute send of a device for recon, a tiny, unnoticable tool that was virtually silent and undetectable. As much as Max didn't like just how bubbly Rishun was, he had to admit- she had a hell of a lot of experience around tech, the kind a lion like Max used in his day to day as a reconaissance operator. Binoculars and optical devices were good to a point- the future was in drones, UAVs and devices like this, and well, Max knew he'd have to adapt to get the benefits from such tools.

"Will do, Rishun. Scrap is a cool little device you have there. Maybe keep me posted....you might be able to programe devices, but I'm good at really making them go through their paces. If you get my drift? I don't know...I wouldn't mind having access to for room clearances and low profile recon." Max said, quite genuine and honest as he knew it was worth keeping her offer in mind.

"Gotta make sure that the seat's adjusted properly, an' it's got the right cup holder installed. See ya down there, folks".

@Silverwind Blade

Max nodded, following along with Silverwind as he stood up, looking to the others.
"I'm off with the Captain. No time like the present and all. Plus, I'm actually awake now..." He mused, as he itched his hair, looking over to where Silverwind was going. Indeed, there was the other half of his equipment to see, and while his small arms were all in good order, the big lumbering metal thing was the main tool that stopped Max from getting killed when they were out there.

--

Entering into the hangar, the sight of the unpackaged GEARs was a sight to behold, sitting in among other light reconaissance helicopters and ammunition stockpiles. In spite of the early morning the hubub was clear and maintainance staff were busy at work repairing or fixing various bits of kit. And among it all, Max saw his, silently walking over towards his personal GEAR.

The lion looked up, the dark brown, grey and gold mech a trusty and dependable tool in his hands. He did love her, and she loved him back, the "Lion Rampant" a dependable reconaissance platform. A fitting name, given well, when Max was going out there and on mission he wanted his GEAR to make him the lion going absolutely bloody rampant. The name was carefully painted in black in the GEAR's cockpit door, with a now rubbed-out emblem above it. Being Max's old GEAR from his service, well, that had to go. Maybe he'd get a pinup of some kind. For now Max reminded himself, he shouldn't have been too comfortable in this team and had to still prove himself here before he took the piss a little. The typical arnament was also attached that came default with these GEAR units, a series of fragpacks on the legs, countermeasures and two 7.62mm MMGs mounted in the frame. Before he had a moment to savour his pride and joy again, he was harshly interrupted, the lion a little tempered as he was taken out of his zone.

"You must be Warrant Officer Bastion?" The mouse asked, the voice almost cracking as the lion turned, a glint in his stare almost.
"Who's asking?!" He replied sombrely, almost in a way that any other person would have regarded as almost dramatically needless. The mouse in comparison to Max was tiny, and well, the difference in tone could have very easily come across. The grey-haired mouse was clearly taken aback by it, but replied as calmly as he could.

"Ah sorry. I'm technician Ben MacCloud, sir. I'm the one of the maintainance operators assigned to look after your GEARs. I've been told you specialise in reconaissance?" Ben said, his accent a dry and quiet highland Scots tone compared to the harsh and smooth Afrikaaner/English accent of Max.
"Indeed. Hence the loadout. So you're the guy who was responsible for fitting all my equipment I asked for on here, I assume?"

"Aye, sir. She's all ready to go. Though....I didn't make sense of why you've taken a combat claw, and a HE grenade launcher on the left arm. Seems a little overkill?" Ben asked, as Max shrugged, knowing the answer already.

"It's more useful than you think, Ben. Leave that to me." Max replied dryly, as Ben walked around, looking up at Max as he did.
"Right....anyway, she's all good to go, boss. I've left the manifest pad inside. Let me know if everything's there and let me know of any adjustments." Ben said, as Max nodded, looking back.

"Good stuff. Cheers mate." Max uttered, nodding as he approached the side. Putting in his keycode, the cockpit opened up, Max pulling himself up and inside. As per his usual, he had a comfy suede chair inside his GEAR, lined over the traditional material inside. His tool was his castle, he thought to himself, and he was gonna be comfy if he was gonna be sitting here for hours on end. The cockpit opened up, he could see the control interface, and the link to his helmet dangling above, which gave him a more direct control than anything he could do like this.

Looking to his side, Max took the manifest log from the small pouch mounted on the left hand side of the cockpit, next to a manual and other servicing documents. Like any good car or bike, a GEAR was looked after by people through regular inspection and kept combat-ready. It seemed dull, but Max did have a read through it from time to time, seeing what component was upgraded or replaced, or what had been done to keep this thing in good healthy running order. After all, the last thing anyone wanted was to breakdown in a firefight not from enemy fier, but from poor maintainance. So long as the crews did their job, Max had nothing to worry about. Flicking through the tablet, he took a read of his GEAR's most recent arnament fitting.

Manifest Tab

Transfer of: RI-G23 "Hargun" GEAR from 505th Reconaissance Company to ***redacted***

Request: Warrant Officer Bastion, Maxwell Fitzroy

GEAR Designation: XO-1514
User Name: "Lion Rampant"

All standard GEAR weaponry and features have been inspected/maintaned as per SOP

Requesitioned Loadout:
Package Designation: Reconnaissance

-30mm Sniper Rifle, Handheld/Rear Hardpoint

-6x5 30mm Box Magazines, 3x5 30mm AP Box Magazines, 2x Fragmentation Grenades, 4x Smoke Grenades, Left Hip Hardpoint
-Combat Axe, Right Hip Hardpoint

-Automatic HE Grenade Launcher, Left Forearm
-Combat Claw and Ratchet for Rocket Anchor Lift, Right Forearm

-Advanced Optical Sensor Suite (Laser Designator), Left Shoulder Hardpoint
-Rocket Anchor, Right Shoulder Hardpoint

-UAV charging and mount point, Back
-3x Limpet Mines stowed on Inside Left Shoulder (Shield)

Other Stores:
-Personal Weaponry Store, Inside Rear Left Leg
-Basic Field Repair Kit, Inside Rear Right Leg
-SERE Kit checked, inspected and mounted under cockpit seat

Installed/Inspected By: Technician MacCloud, Ben
Signed: b.maccloud
Date: xx xx xxxx

Manifest

Max whistled, looking up at the controls and the loadout. "Lion Rampant" was a mech that was designed as a reconaissance mech, but of course, Max knew the reality of his role meant it didn't mean being just lightly armed. While some would suggest an extended reconaissance package was needed, such as a Long Range Radar, ECM or ELINT kit, that was more the remit of the squad's electronic warfare specialist- and besides, Radar was so bulky and made you a huge glowing target to enemy anti-radiation missiles, when the entire point of a GEAR like his was not designed to be anti-air. His recon was more than sufficient at the tactical level- well, unless there was something else he was going into such aircraft or heavy armour. This mission didn't seem that way, so he wouldn't change his usual loadout for this first one at least.

To Max at least, a recon mech was designed to do a few very simple things. First, to carry an enormous 30mm rifle into the fight, and pick light armour and infantry targets from over 3km away with deadly, thunderbolt like power. He had that box easily ticked- mobility was key to him, and achieved using the rocket anchor, which could throw his GEAR up buildings or cliffs with a bit more ease. That and punch through vehicles, or other GEARS with the melee setup of this GEAR. A more highly advanced sensor kit allowed for him to have a longer line of sight than others, as well as detect a variety of anomalies that often wouldn't be seen. Say, if there was armour beyond the treeline, or abnormal audio oscillations.

Second, when shit hit the fan, and you were potentially on your own, you had to have the firepower to handle your own fight. Usually, a recon operator wasn't up against heavy armour, but a variety of infantry and light armour- and in very close proximity, because you were comprimised. Inside a GEAR, that meant you couldn't exactly run and hide, but you had to stay and fight as hard as possible. Hence the 2x machine guns in the frame, an automatic MGL on Lion Rampant's left arm. For even more close-quarters encounters, a Combat Claw in his right hand and/or a combat axe in his left were enough to make anyone that was thinking of charging the GEAR and planting charges another thought. A combat claw, whilst more of an engineer's tool was actually a very acute weapon in his right forearm, and well, it doubled up nicely as a ratchetting point for the rocket anchor to give him a hand in pulling the GEAR upward. Lastly, the limpet mines in the shoulder were interesting as the final piece of kit- why bother with magnetic limpet charges? Because when armour came knocking, Max needed something aggressive, not passive to blow stuff up. Leslie could spend her time rigging something to go boom or Fionn could perhaps provide a dedicated anti-tank launcher to fore, but Max needed something more immediate as his only heavy anti-armour protection. A limpet mine was simple- lay on road that you're watching over or possibly going to get flanked from, tank rolls past, magnet sticks, very big boom. Not a lot of effort, but like all things, a tool for destruction and the fact it was magnetic made it a failsafe. Also rather useful on emplaced metal points or stationary vehicles, given it could be timer-set if required.

With the Reconaissance Package, Max could be very hard-hitting, but it wasn't exactly a sustained arsenal- it was enough to destroy an outpost, but not enough to plod through sustained combat like a frontline mech like Fionn's likely would. It was more a scalpel, rather than a hammer- a precision tool to help Max do what he did best and cover as many possibilities as possible that a recon operator was up against, rather than turn everything into cinders. Each part was considered- and another component in an arsenal if used correctly, was able to last weeks out in the wild and take on a variety of threats. All things considered, it was just his approach to reconaissance. Some operators wanted ELINT, intelligence over everything- but Max just didn't see the merit in that. Why bother trying to be generalist and do everything when you were just needed for one thing- finding targets and engaging them? Rishun had signals covered, and when it actually came to turning things inside out, Fionn had their back. Max didn't mind adding or taking out certain parts to improve movement or to get more specialism in one combat role, but for the best part, this package did what he needed it to.

Sighing as he flicked the tablet back into it's pocket, he looked around in the cockpit, seeing a picture of him and his brothers and sisters mounted above the cockpit door, a picture from at least two years ago. Max in a t-shirt with a rock band on it, and his siblings in far more formal attire, manes, everything. He wasn't like them, he reminded himself, standing tall above them with his braided hair and cuts compared to their clean, proud demeanour. Talisa Bastion, his older sister was closest to him in height and probably the main person in Max's life that made him so fierce. She was fearless like he was, but then again, working as a lawyer meant you had to be when you presented a case. Max respected that, she fought battles with people in a civil way after all, not like his. Even in spite of all those differences, they were all familiy. And Max kept in contact, even if he was an outcast relatively speaking. A lion family didn't splinter or break rank that easy. Maybe they didn't always see eye to eye, but they were people to care for. People to protect, and maybe if they didn't understand, that was probably best for everyone in general.

With a gentle scoot, he was back out onto the deck from the cockpit, tail and to paws on ground, looking back at the lumbering GEAR.
"Back at it again then." Max uttered, as he looked over to the rest, watching them get ready. As for his own, he had the two leg mounted kits to personally inspect and his weaponry to place in the GEAR's leg. It seemed ready for war, and Max knew that while piloting a GEAR wasn't his top speciality, alongside electronic warfare or combat engineering, he could be confident that "Lion Rampant" was ready for his needs.

[Rhona W]

Silverwind had made his way down in Max's tow, making his way through the narrow passageways of the ship to the rear hangar. Much like the lion before him, he thrilled at the scene of activity before him. The ships' utility helicopter, blades still folded and packaged up had been moved to one side of the space to allow room - barely - for the maintenance crews to fit out and run-up the Hunters' GEARs for their sortie. Side-by-side, six of the best GEARs that the ANL, let alone the RSDF could provide.
The Hargun was new, new enough that all of its' specs weren't fully available, and that it was limited in issue to only the most elite of front-line units. Hence the reason, in fact, that the only one that wasn't new, or in the very least reconditioned was Bastion's own machine, that he was now discussing with his tech.
Looking over the array of machines, Silverwind picked out the one with the 'Command' version head; it had a double 'fin' antenna on both sides of the head, and additional cylindrical antennae beneath on each side.
Walking over and looking at the machine as it knelt on one knee, he gave a low whistle of appreciation with his tail wagging slowly as he looked up at the machine, hands on his hips.
"Hello gorgeous," he said with a grin.
"Are you talking to the GEAR, or me?" a female voice answered with amusement, and Silverwind took aback in surprise as he noticed the female raccoon dog stand up from behind the machines' right leg. She had a somewhat chunky build, but it suited her, and made her easy on the eye. The mechanics jumpsuit flattered the same look too, with the low zipper drawing the eye to an... impressive valley. He pulled his eye back up and found her muzzle smirking at him and a sparkle of amusement dancing in her purple eyes.
"Dunno, let's see who answers," he replied with a wink and a poke of his tongue, before walking closer. "So, miss," he continued. "I'm here fer my fittin' appointment. Reckon y'all got something in my size".
"I dunno," the tech replied, Silverwind taking a moment to notice the name 'DIMARCO' above the left breast pocket on her overall, and 'LIEUTENANT' on the right as she checked a pebble-slate. "I'm not sure the cockpit will fit your massive head, sir".
"Nah," he replied airily as he stepped into the foot holds on the GEARs thighs and back, and mounted into the pilot position. "I always have problems fitting my giant testicles in".
"Like I said," she replied climbing up behind him and assisting him strapping in, and beginning to adjust the seat fittings, restraint straps and the like, as the fox began to adjust the display settings, and set the GEARs OS into 'Maintenance' mode and began to adjust the control inputs. "...your massive head, sir".
He laughed and shook his head. "Okay El-tee, you can stay. I like you. Got much experience with the Hargun?"
"Plenty, sir. I got chosen for this assignment as I was on the team for the prototypes' OpEval and workups, and helped with weapon and system trials. I'm senior ranking tech in your maint crews, so most of 'em learnt something from my original crews, and half the tech-book on the GEAR was written by us. Hell, half your conversion training syllabus was probably based on our notes and reports".
"Bad ass, Lieutenant. Thanks for all your work".
"No problem, sir. Just try not to break my shit, and I'm sure we'll get along fine. And I like you too," she said with a smirk of reply, and a boop to his nose. "How's it feel?"
"Well, the boop was okay. The GEAR feels great though. Can tell you know your stuff. Obviously we'll get a running test in once we're onboard the amphib; more space fer that. Your crew get to run 'em yet?"
"Yessir, we put them through basic paces before we loaded them onto the train for transport to the docks. No noted running faults, and we re-checked everything minor already. 5 had a minor burr on the rotator cuff for the left shoulder; we just swapped out the joint assembly to save time. We'll fix the problem with the part we removed while its' demounted and keep it with the spares.".
Silverwind shrugged and unstrapped himself with the quick-release button, shutting down the GEARs' OS as he did so.
"I can't fault any of yer work," he said with a genuine smile as he slid back out of the machines' form-fitting seat. "Y'all did an amazin' job, and I can't ask any less than that. Unless y'all would consider workin' in a t-shirt and shorts, anyway"
"Only if you work in a full face mask, sir, so I don't have to look at your stupid face. What do you want as your load-out for the mission?"
"Intel ain't fully come back yet," he replied, "At least in th' full tactical sense. But we ain't gonna have a lot of time to play pass-the-parcel." He hummd a moment and rubbed the back of his artificial hand against the bottom of his muzzle.
"...Load me up with a 20MM with AP ammo, and a shotgun with scatter ammo under it, a Pile on the right arm, Mortar on the left shoulder, and ATM's on the right one. Knife on the hip, and spare ammo under the shield. Load the mortar with a mix heavy on HE and AP, with some smoke and EM."
She raised a slim purple eyebrow and inclined her head in a respectful nod. "Kickass, sir. Nothing on the left forearm?" she said in a more teasing tone. "You've left space. I'm shocked".
"Nah," he replied. "I always find that gets in the way of the shield on anythin' I ever piloted. Plus I'm already haulin' enough weight as it is."
"All right, Captain. I'll get it done".
"Blade, Lieutenant. Don't bother with callin' me captain unless anyone more important than me is watchin'"
"Then call me DiMarco Sir. And my first name is Gina, for the record".
"Silverwind. Glad to have ya with me, feels like my GEAR will be in good hands".
"Same, sir. Though, not so sure about the GEAR, all those bits of you missing, I'd hate to see my GEAR come back the same way".
"I'll look after for you, DiMarco, I promise. And if I don't, I'm sure y'all will get plenty of work out of it".
"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of. Now, if you'll excuse me si- ah, Blade, then I'll get to work on fitting out your machine, and detail the rest of my guys to help your squad".
As he nodded to her to excuse herself, he turned back to the GEARs' visage briefly, looking up at it. You and I are going to go places, girl, he thought up at the big machine. And we're gonna go through some crazy shit too, he added, patting the armoured kneepad of the machine with one hand as he looked up at it. At some point, he'd have to customise its' paint scheme. It'd been a while since he'd had a machine to call his own, and his old trusty and much-beloved Gungnir Mk.II 'Spectre' was so much plasma-warhead incinerated scrap in an unnamed and unmarked corner of the world, miles and years away. With it, it had taken a lot of memories and nostalgia, and a part of his life. And now you're a Ghost Hunter again, Blade he thought idly, looking at the GEARs, completely void of unit markings or insignia.
Turning away from his machine, he looked around the hangar at the rest of the GEARs in a similar way. None of them carried much in the way of markings or unit insignia, beyond warning and hazard labels. He saw his people coming down to get their own machines fitted out, and began to walk along the row, looking to lend a hand or a few words where he could. Not to mention, he had personal weapons to draw from stores and assemble into his kit.
"Bastion," he called out as he caught sight of the lion. "All all right?" he said, thumbing in direction of the felines' GEAR.