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    1. HopelessIncubus 11 yrs ago

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leaving for surprise vacation for a few days, soo...small leave of absence.... sorry errybuddy.
After being dismissed, all mike wanted to do, was find a cheap bottle of rum or vodka, and a dark corner, but today would not be so kind. finding himself empty of words worthy of his fallen teammates, he returned to his room, and found the dress uniform he despised so much. the fit was perfect, the color a deep, and rich shade, the cut striking and fit for royalty...or a funeral. mike loathed the uniform. despite all the hype, he saw a wool blanket. it was too hot, too tight, the brass to bright. he continued listing the problems with the uniform in his mind, as he took out the iron, and sat the uniform on a collapsible board, waiting for the iron to beep. he had made sure to clearly state he wanted to be buried in fatigues, he tried to press that the service be held in fatigues, or plain clothes, but it had been "revised without his notice" the iron gave a cheery tone, and mike began to smooth the imaginary wrinkles from the dark material. a short time later, mike stood in the gear bay, trying like everything not to look like he wanted to shred his uniform and leap into the comfortable confines of Prowlers cockpit. "DETAIL! A-TEN HUT!" Blade's voice bellowed, bringing mike to the present. listening with the determination that can only be found during a funeral, mike looked at the coffins. it wasn't until he was dismissed, that any animation could be seen. mike immediately loosened his collar. he joined the slightly enlivened crew to file into the mess. picking out a decent bottle of cinnamon whisky, he poured a generous amount in a cup, and filled the rest with cider. hearing Blade's toast, he tossed back a third of it, rasping out a enthusiastic "ROUGHRIDERS" with the rest, before eyeing his drink. he didn't think it was that strong. considering the last day, he could use it. sharing a sad smile, and remembering the fallen, mike floated among the group.
stated a volunteer job at the restore, ill get one up tonight
its a new direction that previous iterations of GEARS hasn't tried yet, and sounds good to me. id like to see how it goes and what the non mech pilots would need to do to combat the new tech the enemy has. all in all, I feel like this is a good idea, however I don't know much about it and it would ruin it if I did. -_-'
Finding Esailia well, mike nodded and wandered off to his quarters. stepping into the small alcove, he shrugged out of his harness, sounds of shredding Velcro and clinking buckles obnoxiously loud in the half dorm sized room. placing the exterior armor and harness on his dresser, he stretched. feeling like he wasted enough time, he grabbed his hygiene kit and a clean set of fatigues before trudging his way to the showers. "blessed be the providers of water and soap" mike muttered, returning to his room 20 mins later, the cloying dust that had just recently made his fur a grimy beige now was gone. a quick boot brushing later, little besides the dusty equipment on his dresser would give evidence of the operation earlier. taking a deep breath, he headed into the main hall and found a small recess to relax in until he was needed. he had just lapsed into a light, lazy half doze, ears tracking new arrivals, but quickly came to when blade came into the hall. He tried to keep his disbelief that he himself had done his best off his face, as blade congratulated them on their performance. it seemed like a bad joke, how many missed shots? how many impacts on prowler? if this was a test, he might have gotten unsatisfactory at best. regardless he kept his face neutral. "we have another mission. And you're not gonna believe what it is..." blade said. mike perked up at that, arching an eyebrow. he was surprised at the fact the custom gears were not simply bandits, or even mercs, but some sort of black ops group. apparently they struck, and used the local mercs as an attempted cover up for the abduction of a princess, he memorized the name, and took a good look at the picture, burning the faces in his mind. Extract princess, Show no mercy to the lynx. "secret military sector with unknown tech, and expertly trained?" mike asked scratching his head. "If I didn't tango with them earlier id say you were a chemtrail chaser, no offense sir."
yeah, that GM is brutal silver! :P
Mike walked prowler towards the office, and stopped near silver as he greeted the team. After a quick rundown, Mike watched, prowlers free hand flexing, mimicking his own as his gears near uselessness in this situation. best case scenario, he could A. blast it with 7.62, and hope he didn't hit a non combatant, or B. rip into the building with prowlers hands, and hope no one got hit by him, or the shrapnel it would cause. a losing proposition on both hands. still, like Blade, he watched through thermals, sharing info with Harlock. luckily it went as smooth as one would expect. "All targets down, no prisoners this time. Hostages are secured; looks like we've got good Intel here too. No signs of any other bad guys either". "Roger that, excellent work in there. All units, all targets are secured. No other hostiles in the area, stand down". with combat at its end, mike followed suit, popped prowlers hatch and loosened his helmet, letting it slide onto his lap. <well done people, well done> Mike sighed. it wasn't a lie, but things didn't go well in the start, 3 wounded, one in a way that made critical sound like a damn joke. this was a dark day for the crew. As blade congratulated the team, Mike decided to help out with procuring parts from the gears, searching the gears for traps, and dragging pieces to the Claw. a few hours later, Mike walked Prowler into its bay, and surrendered it to the agitated technicians. The old raccoon waited on the scaffolding as mike climbed up to him, and saluted blade, before turning to glance at prowlers moon like cratered surface. "I....well..." Mike started, finding no acceptable apology that wasn't an outright lie, he slumped a bit, before drawling himself upright. "in all honesty, I did the best I could to keep everyone safe, I'd rather keep you busy all week on armor repair, then carry another teammate into the med bay." the raccoon looked him over, before deciding mike was telling the truth. "when you put it like that..." the lead tech muttered looking over the damage. "I dare say I don't mind the work at all." shooing Mike off with a clap on the shoulder, the voracious crew began to clamber over Prowler's form. he hadn't even reached the ladder before a vole hopped into the cockpit. "OUI" the tech yelled glaring over the edge of the pod. "what's all this dirt doing in here!?" mike smirked as he slid down to the bay floor. "Artillery strike!, Seals took most of it for me!" he shouted in reply, flashing his roguish grin as he strode towards the med bay. his grin slipping to a grim mask as he followed the red stripe along the walls. he met up with Adrian along the way, reveling Kuraiko was roaming parts unknown. wishing him luck on his search, he headed into the med bay, and peered inside Esailia's room. looking first at Esailia sleeping, then at Edward, arching an eyebrow, his hand switching thumbs up, thumbs down in question to her condition.
sorry guys, got sick, and I just don't have it in me to post right now. if I can get my mind together, ill see what I can do.
Mike's ears perked up as his headset picked up the crunches of approaching boots on loose gravel. trusting the fire team remnants to alert him if needed, he kept his eyes on the mercs. moments later the conversation between Nathaniel and an unknown friendly put him at ease. he figured in his current situation, either he'd find out they were friendly, or prowler would have a nice hole in it before they did. in this case, a friendly support team had joined them, four to transport the prisoners, the remaining two to bolster the foot team. finally able to relax, he took a moment to take a bite of horrific tasting "chocolate" ration bar, gag, and wash it down with several less then dignified pulls from his canteen. drawing a sleeve across his mouth he was about to ask Nathaniel if the ground team was ready to move when he received muddled message from a chaffed blade. a quick dial turn and mike boosted the signal to the fire team. Prowler raising a fist, then placing a finger to its "ear" , telling them to listen up. "Nawlin, are you there? What the hell is going on with the fireteam? Why isn't anyone answering my damn radio messages for updates and orders? I've got a fix on the hostages' location. The caverns are secured, and we have what might be the remainder of the bandits penned into a structure that needs a sweep-and-clear. If no one answers this time, I'm going to go in there myself and do it. What's the situation, over?" <Nawlin to blade, did not receive previous transmission on my end, not sure about fire team. we found resistance and received fire, Esailia had to be Evac'd and Aiden took a bullet to his arm, enemy forces surrendered before we could rally and engage fully. we have now received reinforcements, and conscripted a guide from the prisoners. we are ready to advance towards your position ASAP.>
on it, it wont be the best, as I have class soon, but ill get it up.
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