Agent B52 — Roleplayer Guild

The days leading up to Friday saw Marcus increasingly agitated. Like clockwork he got up at the same early hour every day. What time was not spent on lessons and homework was spent on checks. Gear was counted, disassembled, cleaned and put together again so often Chatsworth stepped in and nearly physically threw Marcus out of the armoury. Subsequently the officer practically buried himself in what maps of and reports about the mission area he could get his hands on. Relaxation became some distant and strange foreign dish to him. By the time the actual mission day rolled around he was still tenser than a chain holding up a struggling Goliath. Rather than listen to the speeches, Marcus went over his equipment list one last time.

Finally the groups were released, and Marcus instantly headed for the hangar. Like every bit of his personal space it was tidy and immaculate.The only dirt in the room was stuck to the treads of the war machine. Even the wrenches gleamed in their ordered rows. Every stowage bin the tank carried was jam-packed with equipment for the coming trip. A steel towcable with a sturdy grappling hook looped around the turret basket that held mountaineering gear. Snowshoes rested on top of a case of demolition charges. Despite preparations for every eventuality up to and including Vale declaring them rogues, Marcus’ hands trembled as he clambered aboard and started to flip switches.

This was it.

The engine roared to life behind his tiny coffin of a cockpit, and his world expanded. Armoured shutters popped open and close like blinking, sleepy eyes. Vision widened and deepened as colours known only to faunus were added to his pallette. The winds that caressed his form was picked apart and analysed, three reticles popped into view in response. Roars, whirs and clatters of machines testing their lease on life surrounded Marcus like a warm blanket. Like a bone that popped into place, his worries stopped bothering him. This was indeed it. Fully merged, Marcus/Unsubtle lurched forward and rolled out.

Bring it on world.

He/it parked right in front of the designated meeting point and hailed Diamond and what he/it assumed was their contactperson.

“Someone order a can of whup-ass?” he/it said. Marcus yanked his consciousness back into his body and shook his head. Quickly he popped the hatch and hauled himself up into view. He kind of wanted to apologise instantly for the remark, he had no idea where it had come from. Instead he settled on a brief nod of recognition.
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