Forsythe

Savage Beast Wars

TBH this has been feeling like it is on life support for a while xD

Rise of Rasalhague

Katrina Blut

Location: Briefing room > 'Mech bay

---

As the jump signal chimed in, Katrina remained seated. She has been through more than enough jumps to know her stomach could take it, or to get used to it long before now. The other issue, well... If the hsip could only do a 1G burn in the direction it was intended to transfer loads through, she figured it would either be a smooth jump, or explosive decompression. Once the jump passed, she observed the wounds on the planet and the location of the enemy base. "Underground, you say? Would be a real shame if someone closed all but one entrance and pointed a flamer into the last one." she snorted. The RoEs seemed straightforward enough to her: Kill anything trying to kill you, ask questions... maybe.

Finally it was time to rip off the Band-Aid and go visit the 'Mech bay. The fact that, even as they approached, the chief technician could be heard loudly announcing some for the mechs were for all intents and purposes nonfunctional, was not very encouraging. One quick glance over the contents of the bay made the corrners of her mouth droop. The only thing equipped with her beloved LRMs was the Draconian heavy, which she would not fucking get near if she could help it. While it could get to a decent speed, she would vastly preffer something heavier on missiles and with no AC. Of course, it was too much to hope for a Catapult. The regulars probably snapped those up quickly, if the republic had any at all.

At least the chief seemed to insist on some competence among the crew. It wouldn't help them much in the present mission, but perhaps she could strike a deal and pass on some of her wisdom and experience from her own days in such a position. My knowledge is a bit dated, but then again, so are these 'Mechs. I might even be able to teach her a thing or two about these things. she nodded to herself with a smile. Smile which quickly faded as the more able-bodied of the crew at times sprinted towards some of the 'mechs to claim them. She shot a nervous glance towards the trash can as she walked along the bays to make her pick, made at ease with the fact that there seemed to be more 'Mechs then pilots available, so that it was certain there would be an alternative left. She briefly thought of challenging the Draconis girl to rock, paper, scissors for the Dragon only for the heck of it, but the thought vanished as she walked past the Wasp.

It was the 'Mech that the Valkyrie she used to drive replaced. Far be it from being similar, having a machine gun instead of an LRM. She would rather carry a few RPGs in the cockpit and fire those hanging upside down from the hatch, go all the good an MG would do against anything that was not infantry or light vehicles. Still, could be worse. It could have been the stock variant with the pathetic SRM-2. The medium laser she was plenty familiar with. It was not a bad choice, but she did have a look up and down the line to see what remained available. The javelin was a no-go, unless she could trade Nakano for the LRM launcher. Something to talk about later. The Panther had a loadout she was wholly unfamiliar with, having last fired a PPC in basic training. Her eye fell on the FedSun refit of the Raven. The large laser was very tempting, however the absence of jump jets made Kat question if she was good enough of a pilot to get it in place where she could put it to use. A well-times pang of stabbing pain in her calf made her decide on a resounding 'No', and she climbed up into the Wasp.

Settling into the seat and blowing dust from the controls, she gave the cockpit a look over, a frown settling on her face. "Hey! I have a wad of duct tape holding my control panel together. Anyone landed on a museum artefact that is somehow worse off that is not an Urbanmech?" she called out. It was good thing that she had great many hours to get the machine as ready as she could with some time to spare to rest beforehand. Getting back out, she walked back over to Elena. "Chief, mind if I grab some tools and give the Wasp a look?"

Avengers Academy: Junior Year 💥

---

Shieldmaiden

Victoria van Dyne

---

Location: Framework lobby
Skills: None

---

Victoria greeted Diana in response as she joined her, sharing the general pleasantries but otherwise leaving well enough alone. As the rest seemed to come in, she absentmindedly noted that she seemed to be the only one who opted for the full length pants. The object of her curiosity arrived a bit later, and to her displeasure, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about the guy. A quiet one like she was up until now, forsooth. At least the rest of the team she knew something about, and started thinking of how their skills might synergize, whether in or out of a fight. It wasn't easy, ad quite a few of them could do a lot of things. They even had two fliers! It made for a nice redundancy, but she was curious to see whether it would also lead to a delay in deciding who would act how, which would be a no-brainer if they were all specialized. She figured out when suited though, she would probably be called to tank damage. I swear, if I end up being the only meat shield, I am billing the repairs to the rest of them. she groaned internally.

Then her mind did the equivalent of a gramophone skipping over a record scratch. Hol'up... Where is the roommate? she asked herself, starting to look around as if Zari was just hiding from her view. Come to think of it, I did not notice her anywhere in the morning. Should I call her? But why should I be responsible for her timekeeping! She knows we have class. Right? I mean I did put the letter on the table, rather than leaving it in her way if she came to the dorm, but still, surely she would have checked the schedule? Come on, she's an adult! Oh my god, is this my fault?! Ohhhhh, she's going to flip on me like yesterday, I bet! FML, where's my phone! she groaned inwardly, patting her pockets.

Vicky was about to call Zari up when a fuzzball launched from above and attacked them, jumping between Leah and Diana before settling her eyes on her. Giving the teacher her best 'Try it!' face, she sent power to the Powerglove, her eyes tracking the infernal creature. But the teacher seemed to think better of it in the end, which Victoria was glad for - She didn't dare guess if blasting her out of the sky was the correct move. The teacher then proceeded to yell something that sounded suspiciously like a shitty corporate interview rejection line about when one should arrive. She was with Agatha, the villains did not exactly sent a meeting invite with a timetable and agenda.

What followed was the weirdest introduction she has seen at the school to date. "Victoria van Dyne; I don't care; Cyan. Blood for the blood god!" she fired off her own right after Ed 'Arcade' Something. Sweet fortune, I don't like 40k, but if this teacher is going to be so over the top as that universe is, then she has earned Khorne's blessings. She fought the urge to cringe. Still she kept her eyes on the... Cat? Rabbit? In case she was to be a tackle victim after all.

Savage Beast Wars

NAUTICA

Location: Bridge > Island

---

"Very well, on me. I swam around and there is nothing of interest in the sea in the near vicinity. If we lost pods over the sea, we will have to go further out, and I am not so keen on that without more swimmers around or knowing what sort of fauna is waiting there, so let's check the island. There is a good chance the pods' navigation system tried to route them there." Nautica noted, heading out the busted window again.

As she climbed up on the hull of the ship, she was starting to notice the finer details of her new form. First of all, her legs seemed to form the tail of her alternate form. As such, the tail fin transformed into her feet, making her basically walk on stilettos. That would be less than ideal, something she had to keep in mind for soft and uneven terrains, like the sandy beach at the edge of the island. Her legs were also a good deal longer than she was used to. Both of those gave her the idea that her kicks were going to be mean though, what with the leverage and sharp point on the foot. She bet she could also run a good deal faster now, assuming she did not lamed herself in the process.

Then there was moving overland in her alt-form. She knew she could hover in any fluid, including air, but she would really have to test her agility before she got into any serious action, the sooner the better. Speaking of, the jungle the front of the ship was buried in would be a nightmare to navigate for her. "So, any of you ever visited any place like this? Because it's going to be dark like the pits under all that growth." she asked her two compatriots, "Finding our own way is going to be a nightmare, let alone any pods."

Rise of Rasalhague

Katrina Blut

Location: Briefing room

---

If she was to be honest with herself, Katrina did not know what to expect of joining a merc band. It could have been a pirate crew pointed in the right direction. It could have been more about drinking beer together and occasionally shooting some stuff. It could have been a band that was about to go on a tour of the galaxy, showing it the real meaning of metal. She did not expect a military-esque style. What was the point of joining this rather than the military then? To do the same thing, only in more hazardous conditions and none of the logistical support. She had the distinct feeling she has been screwed.

As the piece of dry bisket that they were to call commander droned on, Kat was looking at the sketchy intel. Cicadas and Locusts. Both could do over a hundred kliks per hour, assuming they were well maintained. Bastards were not going to be easy to hit. At this point she thought that towing a small asteroid and dropping it at the pirate base was going to be the best solution. Of course, that would apparently be against some of her compatriots' morals. A merc with morals, hah! Where the hell did they find this kid, and did noone teach him the Ares conventions were repealed four succession wars ago? Not to mention they never covered pirates.

"I wouldn't count on the land being flat at all. Since the planet has been left to be rained upon by asteroids, it'll be closer to a moonscape, or perhaps Mars. Plenty of ridges and craters to get ambushed from behind. Also, if the atmosphere is as bad as it is being put, taking prisoners might not even be an option unless they just plain surrender when we show up. You get a crack in the cockpit and the radiation poisoning will be the least of your problems, you'll suffocate long before that. Speaking of, I can't exactly not notice that this ship is barely airtight. In what state of repair is the rest of the hardware? Because I'd rather enjoy asbestos cigarettes than breathe in any unweathered regolith." Kat frowned. She had half a mind to add 'And beers when, because I did not join a merc outfit to have my commander chekc if I folded my sheets.', but thought better of it - for now.

Avengers Academy: Junior Year 💥

---

Shieldmaiden

Victoria van Dyne

---

Location: Dorm > Framework lobby
Skills: None
Equipment gained: Powerglove

---

It was one of those nights Victoria decided to spend actually pretending to sleep. The inactivity helped her to sort out her thoughts somewhat. Or in this case, run through her audition several thousand times, trying to come up with what she could have done better. The car crash, that was just unfortunate. Sadly, not every time are they going to get on site while there is still someone alive to need help. Move on, or you're not cut out for this job. Victoria had every bit of belief people who wished to save everyone were going to end up neurotic wrecks before graduation. Still, could she have plugged the leaks? Welding was out of the question, she was trying to prevent fire and explosion. Pinching the cistern shut? That assumed she would not just tear it somewhere else. Did she even have time for it? Not likely, people were drowning and suffocating. She was happy with how she handled that. Much like the building that was set on fire.

The flooded area she felt could have done better. She had half a mind to break a few walls with her forehead for the stupid, idiotic, moronic, rushed decision to blow apart the building with a spheroid repulsor field. Spheroid! Over a basement! Did she have a glitch?! As if the first thing James told her when she took the first steps in the suit was to mind her weight so that she did not sink into some terrain. No, here the time pressure did not justify the rash action. She would have to do better next time. Check the water level in the basement perhaps? Yes! She could use a ground penetrating radar pulse to detect the air cavity and measure it's size. Good. It was an abysmal error, but I'll learn form it. Better a few bits in the Framework drowned than a real person if I did that in the field. she mentally nodded.

But, she kept coming back to the collapsed building. And she was drawing blanks. The radar pulse would not help her there, not enough resolution. There was just no way she could think of to accurately map out the internal structure of the collapse. Nor was any idea of how else to dig up the survivors safely. Maybe there weren't any? Maybe she took too long? She spent a couple of hours in the night reviewing materials on earthquake rescue. Usage of dogs lead her to an idea of using smell, but she could not reasonably do that without revealing her superior senses. Good for an actual situation, not for her audition where VEIL protocol still applied. She also found there were more hazard factors than she thought of too - Broken gas pipes, fallen power lines... Baaaah! That S&R class better deliver! she groaned inwardly, Maybe I could ask someone? But who would have the experience here? ... Oh screw it, I am so starved for ideas that I might just ask the next person I meet!

Before she realized her introspection dragged on for so long, it was morning and someone was knocking at the door. Getting up from the bed, she walked over and opened: "Yes?"

"A package for miss van Dyne?" the courier said, waving a small box in front of her face. Signing for it, she closed the door and walked halfway back before the knocking sounded again. Opening the door once more, she saw no one in the hallway. Ha, ha. Children, please... she pouted, closing the door again and only then noticing the envelopes on the ground. Picking them up, she saw one addressed to her and the other to Zari. Setting the latter one on the desk, she plopped down on her bed and looked up over the parcel first. Noticing the return address, she smiled. Cool! Something from home! Tearing into it quietly, a note was folded on the top:

Hi Tori!

I noticed you were working on something to help you respond more quickly if you find yourself unsuited and in a pickle. Great idea! You should hang around those guys more, if they help you improve like that. However, I need to point out a couple of things. One, using a pistol grip is not going to help you to shorten your learning curve too much. It is a completely different position for aiming. Second, under California law, you won't be able to carry anything resembling a pistol in concealed or open carry before you're 18.

Don't worry, I got you covered! Cassie is no doubt going to continue with that team of hers, but I have no doubt that you will ace your audition and deserve equal treatment. I don'T have the clout to do that, but... I can even out the playing field a little bit ;) Put it to good use and show the rest what you're made of! (Well, not literally, but... you know...)

You two come visit soon!

Love, Hope.

As she read, a smile was growing on Vicky's face more and more. She really felt lucky. Everyone else, they would have created her for a purpose, and that purpose would be the forefront on their interactions with her. The van Dyne household treated her like a person, like family. She still kept her purpose in mind, but she was allowed choice to pursue it, and do so because of her own beliefs, not because of being told to, with only minimal restrictions put it.

Unable to contain her excitement any longer, she bit her lip and reached into the box, pulling out a contraption. Upon seeing it, she instantly knew it was better than her design, and for a few simple reasons. The device was made like a glove, with a slot for the multi-field projector in the palm. At exactly the same place as with her armor, sans some thickness. Not looking at just the plain better ergonomic and the exploitation of the loophole in the wording of the law that would actually allow her to carry this thing around, another thing also came to mind - The glove part covered her skin, so she would be able to easily transform that hand into an interface mode, further easing up control. Still some way to go to besting the master. she thought, testing the contraption on. It fit, well, like a glove. She would have to get Hope something very nice for birthday.

Reaching for the envelope, she checked the contents of the letter. Ah. Well! The team she was assigned to looked quite like a powerhouse on paper. Between herself and Leah they could move building if it came to it, and they seemed to have serious brain power behind them as well. She was a bit saddened by the lack of a magician, but she supposed she could not have everything. The giant red flag was the Arcade guy, who, to her horror, was almost unknown to her. Did she miss a recluse even worse than herself? Well, at least she would have an opportunity to correct that mistake this year.

"Aigh't, back into the tank we go..." she noted, briefly looking over the shield from Agatha. Nope. She first needed to figure out how to make it last, without revealing her nanite skin. Next time, baby. she smirked and headed to the workshop to pick up one of the M-F generators before heading to the Framework lobby, seemingly ahead of anyone else.

Rise of Rasalhague

Katrina Blut

Location: Dropship port

---

Unlike others, Kat has arrived to the dropship in relatively high spirits. If there was one thing worse than getting your ass kicked piloting a Battle'Mech, it was having to drive an Agri'Mech afterwards. She imagined this was how combat pilots felt once they left the service and were made to fly airliners. 'I used to be a god, you know?' kind of feeling. That was why she signed up when she heard about the state sponsoring new merc bands, really. She did not mind if she spent the rest of her days in the repair bay, as long as she was closer to a battle and as far away as she could from any barns and cows and pitchforks. With her age, she was entirely fine taking to the field with a tractor and dragging a few 'Mech corpses home to cannibalize. That said, if she got a chance to drive a proper 'Mech again... Who was she to say no? Not that she expected to be given a pilot seat, looking like she was seventy and limping around.

The recruiter was priceless though. After the entire 'Blah blah blah Republic, blah blah blah Mercs, blah blah blah state interest. Blah blah blah.' speech, his face when he checked her credentials and found out she was fifteen years his service senior and her last rank outranked him was priceless. He first tried to recruit her back to her old post, and when he failed, tried to save face with something along the lines 'Well, the regulars don't take cripples anyway', to which she responded with "Yarrr, me peg leg can still kick yer booty down to Davy Jones' Locker!" After that, she got promptly ushered through.

That said, her enthusiasm was sustaining fire when she looked at the steaming pile of ship they were to call home for the foreseeable future. A black fucking eagle. Where did they did this piece of scrap, in the museum? That spaceframe must be composed of fatigue cracks and repair jobs by now, and none of the original parts could still be present. Right? "Well, at least I won't run out of things to do anytime soon..." She grunted as she stepped up the ramp, looking at the faces she passed by that likewise expressed various degree of disapporval at the ship's state.

Rise of Rasalhague

Katrina the Bloody Bucket

Name: Katrina Blut

Callsign: Bloody Bucket, BB for short
"Look, somebody has to clean up the rest of the guy who used to pilot the salvage. So grab the steam cleaner and help me get the mashed kidney out of the seat, or shut up and let me work!"

Appearance:

Kat spent most of her life fighting or farming, being the personification of ‘swords to plowshares’. Her body is the ideal build for working machines, being rather small, able to fit and reach where she needs to during maintenance. As far as fitness goes, she is strong enough to tighten all of the screws she needs to and move around canisters of POL, but won’t be knocking the lights out of anyone without the assistance of a big wrench.

Her face seems worn out by her years, a bit rugged and wrinkled. Katrina dyes her hair a silver color and if you combine the two she looks older than she actually is. She wears quite a short cut to fit under a helmet, with her hair barely reaching under her ears. The woman’s dark green eyes contrast with her skin and fair hair.

While in action she wears a combat jumpsuit of black color, made with protective padding and plates, as well as a helmet with tactical visor. On the dropship she changes to orange engineering overalls. In her downtime she prefers comfortable clothing, like sneakers and sweatpants.

Age: 49

Origin:

Katrina comes from the ‘western’ border of Rasalhague, one of the worlds that the Lyran Commonwealth ceded to the new power. Hence, she lacks the ‘space wiking’ heritage.

Personality:

The wrench wench. Everything in Kat’s world has an analogy in something mechanical, and if you want to explain something to her, that is your best approach. She can use mechanical terms even to describe growing crops. Her head is good for technical stuff and little else. It does her well in card games though, which are her favorite pastime other than ‘more work’.

She is a little bit worse off as far as common sense goes, coming off as a bit dense in general, day-to-day business, and with her enthusiasm about any given piece of tech a bit as an overgrown kid that loves legos.

She is friendly enough not to care that she’s one of the oldest of the crew, knowing she has actual experience behind her skills rather than maybe a fancy noble name. Kat doesn’t usually initiate conversations, most often too busy being elbow deep in grease, but if one finds her with anything, she will not shy away and talk or help.

History:

As a farm girl, Kat was no stranger to manual labor from the get go. However, the tools and especially the agri'mech always attracted her attention more than the soil or the crops. She was able to disassemble the engine for maintenance and put it back together in working order at the age of 16. It came to no surprise that her teachers recommended her for a technical university.

Unfortunately for her, the only university that didn’t require her to pay tuition fees her parents simply didn’t have was the military academy, so she had to sign up for service after completing her degree. She has qualified as a mech'warrior, and was a part of a Valkyrie lance, removing the occasional issue with long range missile salvo.

Until one day, the problem turned out to be a mercenary piloting a Highlander. That battle sent her out of the cockpit for two reasons - One of her legs was rather badly injured, and her Valkyrie was stomped flat. She returned to her roots, requesting a reassignment to the engineering corps, where she expected to spend the rest of her career as a commander of an Oppie. With the recent rise of the state sponsored mercenary groups though, she decided to adventure some more while her health allowed it, whether she be put into a 'Mech again or as an engineer.

Skills:

Gunery: 4
Piloting: 2
Guts: 6 2 - Permanently lowered due to leg injury
Tactics: 4

Abilities:

TBD

Misc:
- She walks with a limp, and can be seen taking painkillers form time to time
- Voice actor: Michelle Forbes (Helena Cain, Battlestar Galactica 2003)

Mech

Type: The type and variant of your mech.

Name: The affectionate name given to the machine by your pilot.

Mass/Class: The weight and class of your mech.

Armor: How many tons and what type of armor your mech has.

Top Speed: How far can your mech run/jump.

Armanents: The amount and type of weapons that your mech carries, as well as how many tons of ammo it has available.

Heat Sinks: The amount and type of Heatsinks your mech has.

Quirk: Any notable feature associate with the type, or the specific mech.

(Almost all of this data is readily available on Sarna, the excellent website for all things BattleTech related. However, we'll be breaking the rules a bit here and there, and adding things to Quirks, such as damage sustained in previous engagements that we have been unable to repair, or other oddities.)

Rise of Rasalhague

Katrina the Bloody Bucket

Name: Katrina Blut

Callsign: Bloody Bucket, BB for short
"Look, somebody has to clean up the rest of the guy who used to pilot the salvage. So grab the steam cleaner and help me get the mashed kidney out of the seat, or shut up and let me work!"

Appearance:

Kat spent most of her life fighting or farming, being the personification of ‘swords to plowshares’. Her body is the ideal build for working machines, being rather small, able to fit and reach where she needs to during maintenance. As far as fitness goes, she is strong enough to tighten all of the screws she needs to and move around canisters of POL, but won’t be knocking the lights out of anyone without the assistance of a big wrench.

Her face seems worn out by her years, a bit rugged and wrinkled. Katrina dyes her hair a silver color and if you combine the two she looks older than she actually is. She wears quite a short cut to fit under a helmet, with her hair barely reaching under her ears. The woman’s dark green eyes contrast with her skin and fair hair.

While in action she wears a combat jumpsuit of black color, made with protective padding and plates, as well as a helmet with tactical visor. On the dropship she changes to orange engineering overalls. In her downtime she prefers comfortable clothing, like sneakers and sweatpants.

Age: 49

Origin:

Katrina comes from the ‘western’ border of Rasalhague, one of the worlds that the Lyran Commonwealth ceded to the new power. Hence, she lacks the ‘space wiking’ heritage.

Personality:

The wrench wench. Everything in Kat’s world has an analogy in something mechanical, and if you want to explain something to her, that is your best approach. She can use mechanical terms even to describe growing crops. Her head is good for technical stuff and little else. It does her well in card games though, which are her favorite pastime other than ‘more work’.

She is a little bit worse off as far as common sense goes, coming off as a bit dense in general, day-to-day business, and with her enthusiasm about any given piece of tech a bit as an overgrown kid that loves legos.

She is friendly enough not to care that she’s one of the oldest of the crew, knowing she has actual experience behind her skills rather than maybe a fancy noble name. Kat doesn’t usually initiate conversations, most often too busy being elbow deep in grease, but if one finds her with anything, she will not shy away and talk or help.

History:

As a farm girl, Kat was no stranger to manual labor from the get go. However, the tools and especially the agri'mech always attracted her attention more than the soil or the crops. She was able to disassemble the engine for maintenance and put it back together in working order at the age of 16. It came to no surprise that her teachers recommended her for a technical university.

Unfortunately for her, the only university that didn’t require her to pay tuition fees her parents simply didn’t have was the military academy, so she had to sign up for service after completing her degree. She has qualified as a mech'warrior, and was a part of a Valkyrie lance, removing the occasional issue with long range missile salvo.

Until one day, the problem turned out to be a mercenary piloting a Highlander. That battle sent her out of the cockpit for two reasons - One of her legs was rather badly injured, and her Valkyrie was stomped flat. She returned to her roots, requesting a reassignment to the engineering corps, where she expected to spend the rest of her career as a commander of an Oppie. With the recent rise of the state sponsored mercenary groups though, she decided to adventure some more while her health allowed it, whether she be put into a 'Mech again or as an engineer.

Skills:

Gunery: 4
Piloting: 2
Guts: 6 2 - Permanently lowered due to leg injury
Tactics: 4

Abilities:

TBD

Misc:
- She walks with a limp, and can be seen taking painkillers form time to time
- Voice actor: Michelle Forbes (Helena Cain, Battlestar Galactica 2003)

Avengers Academy: Junior Year 💥

---

Shieldmaiden

Victoria van Dyne

---

Location: Workshop > Gym
Skills: Machine physique, senses
Equipment: Shieldmaiden armor

---

As the day progressed, Victoria busied herself working on the side project D&D brought forth in her mind. Initially, she thought of just getting a gun and spending some time at the range, maybe later modifying it with some utilities. However, the more she thought about it, the more of a learning curve she was seeing. She needed something to use now. Trouble was, everything she knew how to use was either locked away by the VEIL protocol, or mounted on her armor.

That was until she realized that the problem would go away if certain things were not mounted to the armor anymore. Thus she found herself designing a pistol body into which she could just plug in a power cell and one of the multi-field projectors from her armor, along with some controls to give her some options. Of course, the selectors would be dummies, there was no point to them as she could as easily send signals to the weapon through the nanites in her skin, and it would fit in nicely with her misuse security theme.

Finally, the hour of her turn was coming up, and she had to start suiting up. Setting down the soldering gun, she walked over to what looked like a bank safe and touched her palm to the door. “IDENTITY CONFIRMED.” boomed a machine voice and several snaps and whirrs could be heard as the case unlocked and folded open, revealing the Shieldmaiden armor.

Room secured.
No observation devices detected.
Lifted VEIL condition satisfied.
Activating combat mode.

With the magical code purged from her system overnight, and taking a shape it was actually primarily supposed to take, rather than something she made up on the spot, it worked without a hitch. Her surface lost all of its texture, molding itself to a smooth silvery form with golden printed circuit pattern crisscrossing it. The only part that stayed the same was her head, with her irises turning a vibrant red. Reaching for the armor pieces, she started attaching them, the nanites in the skin reaching to meet them almost like a symbiote, plugging in power and control threads and holding them in place.

Victoria had to admit, with her cover present, the clunky suit up was a bit of a nuisance. It took her almost ten minutes just to put the whole thing on, sans the helmet which she clipped to her belt for now as she headed over to the gym.

Right. The gym. Where nothing of what she requested would be installed. It turned out that when Stark sayd ‘almost anything can be made available’, which a couple of buildings she requested definitely could, he actually meant ‘I like my money where it is’. Hence, her own audition would be happening in the Framework. Cheap son of a- I can already see it: ‘Hottest tea! Van Dyne auditions on easy mode!’ Whatever. I don’t care what people think.

Having to pass a few of her classmates on the way to the gym, she briefly thought about giving them a red tinted glare - Oh, let them guess? Does she like colored contacts? Is that some sort of a HUD? Is she a robot? - but the annoying VEIL warnings screaming from the computer part of her mind made her put the helmet on. As she entered the gym, she gave the teachers observing a brief nod and stepped into the framework ‘bubble’ to hook up. Being already suited up worked in her favor here, as she could claim the suit itself could interface with the framework.

As the simulation loaded, the teachers would see a holo of her position and all of her readouts on a couple of flat screens. Finally, she got dropped in, flying over a city. She could try to determine her position, but it wasn’t important for her demonstration. Flying in a wide arc, she pointed the armor’s sensors down, gathering as much data about the situation as she could. No bueno. Too much interference. Eeeeverybody in this day and age, when they see a catastrophe, just has to pull out their phone and start fucking streaming rather than helping.

She decided to patch into the local first response frequency. Listening in, she found out that the site was an aftermath of a recent avenger battle. Typical. Where else would one find multiple kinds of disasters in one area. “Emergency response central, this is Shieldmaiden. I am sending aerial scans of the area and am at your disposal. Where do you need me?” she called over.

“Shieldmaiden, Central. We have units on the way, but the units heading for these four pockets are more than ten minutes out. See if you can help and update us on the situation, over.”

Some data came back, highlighting the four problematic areas. Victoria came to hover midair, overlaying the data with the layout of the city. From up here, she could see the problems were a mid-rise building on fire, a multi-car crash with a fuel truck involved, a flooded area and a collapsed building. She had to prioritize where to help first.

A data stream would appear at the teacher’s flatscreen, showing summary data from multiple on-line sources about the likelihoods of survival in all of the four situations. Victoria concluded that the fuel truck had to be checked first. Second fire breaking out could lead to a disaster on a whole other scale. Then a quick check of the flooded area for anyone drowning, followed by pulling people out of the flames - whether she liked it or not, given the state of the fire, everyone in danger of burning would be dead before she got there, and the rest who were in danger of smoke poisoning had less of a chance for survival than the people in the flooded area. Save who you can. Lastly, the collapse victims had both the highest chance of survival for prolonged time, and their situation would require more finesse. No one would get to them quickly without risking the ruins collapsing on them in the process.

Boosting over to the car crash area, she landed and had a look inside all of the vehicles. No important heat signatures. That meant no hot engines that could set off the fire. It also meant that no one would be walking away from this one, the bodies long cold. “Central, shieldmaiden. Deprioritize the car crash. All drivers and passengers are casualties.” Running over to the cistern, she checked it for damage. Yep, that is definitely leaking somewhere. Still, this is a city. Road is paved, leading into drainage that feeds into water treatment plants. Lives are at stake here, the environment has to wait. Victoria reasoned, heading over to the cistern, setting herself up just behind the rear of the truck. Bracing herself, she engaged the suit’s hydraulics and lifted the cistern, before backing it away from the engines, snapped wires and whatever else might cause a fire. Parking it further away and over a drain cover, she called up the environmental situation to Central and jumped into the air, flying over to the flooded area.

Once there, she found thermal and motion sensors useless again, but good old audio revealed several sources of screaming. She and Hope will really have to have a word about the quality of her sensor suite. Recalling the classes, she remembered that if a person is drowning, they are likely to trash and flail around in panic, so the generally accepted way to go about them is to wait for them to drown just enough so that the rescuer is safe and wrangle them out of danger then. Ain’t nobody got time fo’ that, nor yer feelings. Or a coupla of bruises. Vicky thought. Being able to wrestle a locomotive, the people can trash all they want, she was getting them out of there one way or the other if she could not calm them down. She should be able to do that even without armor, grabbing a firm hold of a person and pulling them through water should take but a fraction of her strength and even if they did not hold their breath, she should be able to pull them out fast enough for it not to matter.

Cutting the engines, she splashed down and dove into the building. She used the multifield projectors to shine light around herself, increasing the visibility in the murky water. Combined with listening to the screams, she managed to guide herself to the first victim. A boy, thirteen or so. Two options: The sight of a heavy armor suit would either scare them beyond anything, or elicit a long, loud ‘Coooool!’. Victoria decided to take the middle ground, her helmet flipping open and retracting to at least reveal her face, making her appearance a bit more human. “Hello! I’m going to need you to be brave and hold on to my hands, take and hold a large breath, and I am going to pull you through and outside. ‘Think you can do that?” she asked, receiving a vigorous nod.

Eventually, she got all the people she could see out with varying degree of effort, and an even ratio of ‘Thank you’s and ‘Fuck you’s for the level of caring for their opinion on the method of their rescue. Biting back an ‘I can also drag you back in there. Enjoy your last breath!’, she was about to leave when her statistical software detected an anomaly in the ambient audio. A dull, but a regular spike on the lower end of the spectrum. Diving again, she followed the sound, soon finding herself at a trapdoor which probably led to the basement.

This was a bit of a pickle. The second she lifted that door, the water that was so far dripping in would rush in, taking with it who knows what debris, endangering the person inside even further. Running long on time, Victoria decided to take a bit of a drastic measure. Surfacing again to check the rest of the previous inhabitants were out in a safe distance, she returned to the trapdoor, dialed all of her multifield projectors up and blasted the building away to all sides with a spherical repulsor field. Well... Good news was that the debris really cleared out. Bad news was that in her hurry, Vicky failed to account for the spherical field also pointing down. Seeing the cracked floor and the telltale signs of water rushing in and air rushing out, she stormed over to the trapdoor, ripping it off of it's hinges and throwing it aside, descending into the basement and heading straight for the last person as the water level rose quickly. Reaching them and grabbing them under their shoulder, she pointed a palm up to blast a hole in the ceiling, ready to cover the refugee with her own bulk if any debris came down, and then promptly taking them out and towards the rest of the victims, enjoying about the same ratio of ‘Thank you, my baby!’s and ‘Bitch, that was my house!’s. Ignoring the lot of them, she hurried over to the burning mid-rise, reporting to Central the five people needing care and shelter.

If her sensors were having trouble before, they wouldn’t be able to detect anything inside of the raging inferno of a building. Deciding to eyeball it, she flew around the building in a spiral, finding a woman and a child huddling on a balcony the fire had not yet encroached on. Approaching them with a wave and a hello, she hovered behind them and asked them to hold on. Grabbing each around their waist, she flew them down and away to safety. Then it was time to see if anyone else was on the inside. Tearing the main door off of its hinges, she carefully walked inside, the nanites in her skin working to absorb the heat and replenish her power reserves somewhat. Going room by room, she found no one at the ground floor, while constantly checking the building for any sign it was about to come down on her.

Reaching the staircase, she saw it had already collapsed, so she took a running leap, boosting off of the far wall and landing on the next floor. The story was the same, and rinse and repeat on the third floor. On the final floor, she found another person who managed to block the door and save themselves from getting poisoned too much, but had no way out. “Get on my back and hold tight!” She said. Since the immediate area was empty and this was the last person in the building, she could make their way out. Charging her chest projector, she directed a slashing repulsor beam to cut a hole in the wall and fly out from there. “Stay here and wait for the firemen.” she instructed, before patching to the emergency channel again, “Central, the burning building is completely evacuated, though the fire is not contained. Proceeding to the collapse.”

Arriving at the final site, she had a bad feeling this situation would be quite hopeless. Walking around the site, she scanned as much of the debris as she could see and tried to run several simulations.

- Digging into the debris? No luck. The whole thing was a jenga tower endgame, one wrong move and the whole thing could come down.
- Generating a large enough graviton field to put the area into zero-g and gently moving the debris away? Nerp, she could not put up a field this large fast enough without introducing any motion and torque into the structure, and she could not scan deeply enough into it to eliminate any possibility of the structure collapsing again.

Almost giving up and just waiting for the professionals, she recalled what led her to her targets in the flooded area. No one was screaming for help here, but that could have been for lack of trying, or simply being buried too deep. But, she could try to reach them and instruct them to make a larger noise. Dialling up the speakers on her suit as far as they would go, she shouted at the pile of rubble: “If you can hear me, can you make a noise? Bang on something hard with a piece of rebar, or something?”

There was no response, which pretty much meant she was at the end of what she could do without assistance. With calling up the situation to central, the simulation ended. She unhooked from the framework setup, mumbling a 'That could have gone better...'. She said her farewells to the teachers and left, wondering whether to spend the next minutes de-suiting or is she should take a flight to chill out while she was all dressed up.