MachineSoul

GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.

I'm sorry that I brought you in that state, you really are a nice person ;_;

It's mostly my fault, I've been writing a sentence a day for the past week and never considered finishing it 'till weekend. I'll bring myself together and post on the ACTUAL deadline I set myself. Promise!

GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.

"Damn, sure is good to see you guys!"

Help arrived in the nick of time: Mike blew a GEAR down, Adrian followed up and took another one down, Kuraiko managed to cut down the flanking initiative the "bandits" had going. It was obvious to Aidan that those six, now four, pilots were no push-overs. While they were indeed good, seasoned fighters, they clearly underestimated 101's numbers and skill; taking down two GEARs would have been easy, but having two more coming in to reinforce caught them off-guard just enough to lose two fighters and even the numbers. It was Aidan's move now and he knew what he was supposed to do.

Having the chance to study the enemy position, coupled with Mike confirming an enemy marksman and Adrian suggesting taking out the missile pods some of the GEARs had on them. Aidan suddenly changed direction, now heading the opposite way and tried to look small, sine most of the enemy attention was drawn to Adrian and the reinforcement duo, giving the dog some space to think and react, maybe do something useful while at it. If he knew his GEAR had more weight, or a better hull and no extra support role, he'd jump right in for the slaughter and flank them so hard they would crap their suits. An all-round was efficient enough, but four GEARs against four others with elevation advantage is still vulnerable enough; after a few moments of being untargeted, Aidan came up with something that would take down a maximum of two more enemies, leaving the rest for his teammates: if these guys set up an explosive booby trap that could have jeopardized the integrity of the mine, it was pretty safe to launch explosives back at them without risking innocent lives. Trying to be precise with his own SMG-like autocannon would turn him into a sitting duck long enough to be hit by that one marksman without doing much damage to the other vehicles. Instead, Aidan quickly released the grip on the left linear glove and brought his arm over his head, feeling for a handle to pull down, while he kept himself on the move. He stopped shooting down the mine as he didn't want to draw fire on him in this crucial moment of the fight, but kept his eyes down there in case someone pulled a smart move to stop the canine's "brilliant" idea.

"You guys stay out of melee range and keep drawing their fire. Rocket barrage coming up, danger close. They were confident enough to blow a GEAR, I'll showém my fireworks." He warned L-68, Prowler and Blitzkrieg just as he brought a device down and in front of him consisting of a large, round screen mounted on a bulky frame with knobs, switches, a keyboard and a control stick. Aidan switched his gaze from the main panels to the round screen that quickly adapted to his eyes, a new reticle following his eye movement; he was looking for the sweet spot to unleash the salvo, deciding against locking on a specific target as that would have given away his surprise. While there was cover just about everywhere, he was pretty sure his rockets would turn everything to rubble and potholes, making any form of quick maneuvers difficult to make with an uneven terrain. If he manages to blast one of the guys, maybe even hit a shoulder-mounted missile pod, Aidan could call it a good day. He was still making calculations in his head, thinking of the best place to strike and just how wide he wanted to stretch with the barrage, but under the pressure of losing precious time, the canine decided that his prefect chance would slip away and he'd get back to base with no confirmed kills on his belt and a tail between his legs. He brought Stumpy to a sudden halt and as soon as his GEAR stabilized, Aidan reached for a key that released the safety lock on the control stick and adjusted the angle of the rocket pod until he was sure he hit the sweet spot right between the enemy marksman and the one carrying the ridiculous gattling gun. Civilian GEAR or not, he was sure that if any of them would get hit, they'd explode and melt, they'd need tank-class armor to come out alive and barely scratched. Aidan gritted his teeth and pressed his thumb against the launch button on the stick until he passed the first threshold, he'd only have to squeeze one more time to set hell loose. He had maybe one more fraction of a second until the enemies would realize what he was up to.

"Firing!" His thumb flexed and pushed harder against the button, passing the second threshold and as soon as he felt the button squeeze against the internals of the stick, the cockpit was filled with rattling noises as the pod released twelve small rockets one by one in a rather tight group. Aidan quickly retreated away from the lip just enough to be safe from enemy fire and still catch a glimpse of his work. He issued a chain command to reload the pods automatically that would take a long period of time and switched the safety lock back on before he'd push the console back up in its place. A bright flash quickly contrasted out by the external cameras confirmed a successful strike on the enemy, the rocket swarm managed to follow the grouped trajectory, maybe three or four deviated from the projected perimeter; he felt a rush of satisfaction take his anger and tension and slam them against the dusty earth, so much that he nearly missed the grim newsflash Blade delivered through the comms. At first, he simply dismissed the thought, thinking that Aidan might have misheard what Blade communicated; Ken's and Kuraiko's reactions convinced him that it was true: one of their men just died. The dog couldn't believe his ears, someone in his team got fatally wounded and he was completely unaware; he tried to remember if he heard any call for support from him, but he was sure he wasn't contacted. Whatever hit the poor pilot didn't give him the chance to react, but Aidan was not going to leave him for dead, no matter what. Maybe there was some hope, a second chance to life and even if he were to find a mangled, unrecognizable carcass, the medic still had some honors to complete and send the body back home.

Before his thoughts would be clouded with a darkness that would render him inert and unresponsive, Aidan took a U-turn and rolled away from the mining camp, dizzy and incredulous.

"Adrian, Mike, Kuraiko, I'm headed off to the emergency, if and of you blokes get shot I will murder you. Blade, sir, I'm coming as fast as I can to check him and pull him out; I don't know how bad it looks, but believe me, you'd be surprised how long one can live without their frontal lobe. Ken, I'll need your chopper for evac, if his condition is real bad, my GEAR won't be fast enough to get him to safety." Aidan was preparing himself mentally for the extraction, first aid and evacuation procedures; he was ready for such incidents, but he didn't expect for something bad to happen during the first skirmish with the Roughriders. He'll look pretty bad if he doesn't manage to save the pilot on the first day of active duty, thus, the dog refused to believe there was absolutely nothing that could be done to save the guy. He cleared the distance between the mine and Silver's location in a few minutes, minutes that passed very slowly for the doctor; every second counted to the slimming chances to save Arcade, Aidan was cursing under his breath as it seemed his destination was never in reach. When he did get there, he found a defunct GEAR with its torso split open and charred; Aidan felt his heart sink and his throat choke as he saw the wreck and immediately reached for the PDW and attached it to the sling on his vest and then grabbed for the large kit while making the final approach. Once he brought his GEAR to a full halt, in a kneeling position and he opened the cockpit and left on the auto-defense mode so that Stumpy would provide cover fire if needed. Aidan got out of his seat, swung the large kit on his back and sprung out of the cockpit, landing on the terrain below safely.

He made sure his surroundings were relatively safe before he'd sprint towards the downed vehicle. "This is Sykes, I'm on foot and headed towards Arcade. Ken, get ready for extraction, the coast looks clear enough for an LZ." The dog reached the GEAR in no time and started to climb on it until he had a clear view down the open torso and he saw there pulled out a muttered crap; he looked left and right, making sure that there was no enemy in sight before he'd ditch his weapon to the side and put down the kit to start the extraction process.

"Hey, buddy, you with me? Hello! Come on, man, you can't just give up on the first day, stay with me! Focus on my words if you hear 'em: look, I'll open the cockpit up and I'm gonna help you out of here, ok? You stay put, you've done a great job so far, you can rest a little while I patch your fur up, alright? Hang in there!" While the dog was talking to probably no-one, he stretched his arm into the opening of the cockpit and reached for the emergency hatch release and once he pulled it, the cockpit door unlocked and lifted up only a little. Aidan then tried to pull the door up, but his strength alone was not enough so he had to improvise a car jack out of one of his stretchers and, calculating where he had to place the improvised jack to hold the door up, he managed to open the cockpit wide enough for him to slip in with his kit. The strong smell of charred fur and flesh filled his muzzle and turned his stomach upside down, but he had a job to do. He took a pair of latex gloves from the kit and put them on quickly and, first things first, he checked for pulse, breathing and general responsiveness. Judging by how he looked, Aidan concluded that Arcade ate a damn missile with his teeth, but to his surprise, he managed to find a pulse on his mangled wrist.

"Bloody hell" he muttered in awe "he's still alive, sir! Condition critical: third degree burns over 70% on his body, shrapnel damage here and there, but he's breathing. I can't tell how much blood he's lost, but I'm starting reanimation procedures now."

He was nervous and all over the place, the fight for this pilot's survival was mostly in his head: he gently checked for cervical lesions and decided not to risk it, so he slipped a neck holder on him and imobilized the head, he somehow found an intact vein to administer isotonic fluids, hanging the pack on the first thing he found and turned his attention to one shrapnel piece that was about to fall out of its wound. Aidan grabbed the piece carefully with a pair of tweezers while holding a soft pad with some haemosrtatic agents and antispetics; he pulled it out slowly and, as expected, a the wound became a small puddle of blood, Aidan quickly shoved the pad in as a placeholder until he could reach for the gunshot syringe that would do the same job, only much better. He pulled the pad out and injected a handful of miniature sponges that inflated as soon as they came in contact with liquid. He couldn't do much about the large, burnt portions, except for being careful not to burst open the blood-filled blisters. Next step was to mobilize the wounded and get him in the open, so Aidan somehow slipped the extra stretcher under him, releasing the burnt man from the tight straps to carefully drag him on the stretcher. He then covered him with a reflective tinfoil blanket to keep the poor guy warm, losing so much skin meant losing heat and liquids; he secured the patient on the stretcher and awkwardly dragged him out of the death chamber. Once the dog pulled his kit out, he installed a few electrodes here and there to monitor whatever vital sign were left and to no surprise, they were very weak, on the edge of a fatal crash actually. In another display of extraordinary of strength and will, he safely lowered the stretcher to ground level, followed by himself and the kit.

Then the fun started: Arcade's epiglottis fell over the trachea and remained shut, he was getting no oxygen intake. "You've got to be shi- Ken! Where are you? He's almost in hypotensive shock, hypovolemic and his epiglottis just gave up. Crap, I've gotta open his throat."

He was dizzy, but he knew what to do. While it was a risky procedure, cricothyrotomy was an absolute necessary at this stage; Aidan grabbed the surgical box from the kit and for the cricothyrotomy tubing and placed himself in such a way he'd shield Arcade's body from any dust contamination, with the help of Kitsune Peril too. He managed to localize the cricothyroid membrane and quickly immobilized the thyroid cartilage with his left hand; with his right hand, he started to incise a vertical cut, until he had a clear view over the membrane he had to open. Once he cut it open with another horizontal incision, Aidan enlarged the incision in the membrane with the help of his finger, while holding the larynx with the help of a surgical hook and once he was sure the hole was large enough, he fit in the cricothyrotomy catheter, pulled the hook and the dilator from the tube out and inflated the cuff with some air with the help of a syringe. He secured the catheter in place with some strong adhesive plasters, sewing them would take too much time. Finally, Aidan checked if Arcade was still breathing on his own, but to his dismay, he was forced to pull out a compression bag and attach it to the catheter and provide with air. Now that he had a break to catch his breath, he reassessed the situation and recalculated the pilot's chances of survival: a heart failure was an immediate risk and this man had to get off the field now. The dog took a deep breath in and exhaled long, realizing he was almost sweating, his palms shaky from the intensity of the moment; he felt some satisfaction, though, saving another comrade from imminent death. He had to make sure he'd save him again from the next blow death would try to make.

"Arcade needed a cricothyrotomy and he'll soon enough a defibrillator, but I think he'd might just make it if we get him to a hospital, sir."

GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.

I am on it, Blade, I am on it. It will be finished tonight

GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.

I will have a post/reaction most likely tomorrow night. Hopefully.

GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.

In my head, I saw all that plus a warehouse to store mine-related stuff, but I'll rectify that when I get to a PC

GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.

Silverwind Blade said
who is the artist for your images? They're pretty cool.

Tailsrulz a.k.a. Vulpine Studios

Don't ask me how I know that

GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.

I will claim the 1000th OOC post position because I want to achieve this in my life.

You can now carry on with your day

GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.

Overdueeee, grr, I know! I've been struggling to find time and write, but that doesn't mean my dedication for this RP is wavering!

Also, I am really sorry to hear such news about your wrist, Silver. :c

I do hope you'll get well soon, though! ^0^

GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.

Aidan grimaced as his comrade just told him that he'll smash his own face against landmines; he hoped that it was a bad joke, it would be hard to describe Adrian's suicidal behavior and not get demoted from his position. Since he wasn't given much time to protest, the medic could only take a defensive position on an elevated portion of ground and scan for any threat or movement; given the one minute time limit, Aidan brought up a virtual stopwatch on his central screen and tapped on it once the hare entered the cruddy building. Watching the time drain, hearing nothing on the comms and having no visual indication of the hare's position and status, kept the dog on edge; his muscles twitched as they were ready to slam into the pedals and charge in to provide help. Seconds drained quickly and by the time the stopwatch hit the -10 second mark, the warehouse suddenly rattled and unleashed streams of dust from its cracked walls. Aidan gritted his teeth, his heart skipped a couple of beats as he instinctively thought the worst had happened to Adrian and his GEAR; he was about to charge downhill and undergo a rescue operation, but his impulse was cut off as soon as his eyes spotted the familiar GEAR rushing back up, giving him a negative gesture all the way back. The dog sighed in relief and felt slightly amused, wondering just what in the heck happened, suspecting that the rather shoddy interior nearly trapped Adrian isnide. As the hare told him about the situation of the large room once he reached back at him, Aidan's eyes were peering at something in the distance, swearing that he just saw something move; the computer confirmed his suspicion as the once-defunct GEAR groaned and came to life for a few seconds. He had no indication about what was going to happen next, he just managed to drop a surprised gasp through the comms.

The flash momentarily blinded him, the sound wave was partially muffled by Stumpy's hull, Aidan instinctively reared with the help of the ankle-mounted wheels and dragged Adrian with him to safety; when his vision came back to normal, he found himself in a dust storm holding another GEAR's forearm, which he quickly identified to be Adrian's. The situation caught him off-guard, even though he was expecting for a disaster to happen; nothing prepared him for a large explosion and a world of confusion. His wits returned to him the moment he heard a few very distinctive whistles in his helmet's speakers, he even felt a jolt in his right arm as a leaden bullet disintegrated in the outer hull of the armored GEAR appendage holding the rapid-fire autocannon. That determined the dog to retreat further back, still pulling Adrian's own GEAR with him, finally reaching a far enough place where they were protected from weapon fire. Aidan turned his attention to the communication lines, finding out that everyone, in a nearly-simultaneous fashion, got attacked.

"This is team three, tangos blew the warehouse into confetti and opened fire on us. We're covered by a dust storm, we may need air support or a pair of eyes from above, sir!" Aidan reported as his eyes were still scanning for any imminent danger. He then addressed towards his companion: "Hey, buddy, you OK in there? Are you hurting? Bloody fuck, you sure there was no one in the warehouse? That dead GEAR at the door just blew up and everything happened. Damn." He then checked his arm, barely visible through the dust blowing right into the camera, but he could tell that the damage was rather superficial, but one or two more well placed rounds could incapacitate a number of muscle fibers. Aidan then came up with the best of his ideas, given the situation and tension at hand.

"Flank'em! I'll draw their fire and circle to my right, you go on the opposite and pick them off!" Aidan then took off after he unlatched his grip on Adrian's arm, skirting the lip of the valley from a safe distance; there was dust everywhere, annoying the dog to the point he turned on the thermal scanners to avoid bumping over a stone and making a huge fool out of himself on his first official mission with the Roughriders. He didn't quite expect to see any action from day one, but he was glad this op wasn't a run-of-the-mill border patrol. When he finally caught some visibility over the collapsed structure, Aidan turned his GEAR and strafed to the right while adjusting his position by shifting forwards and back, making him a rather annoying target to shoot at. He brought the GEAR weapon up to the cameras and aimed down, until the weapon's reticle coincided with the one following his eye movement; once he had a relative fix, he released the safety lock on the autocannon and squeezed the index finger, immediately feeling the recoil shoving his right shoulder into the seat. The repeated gunfire explosions drilled at his canine eardrums, his teeth gritting tight as he fought against the powerful yanks all in the while he kept himself moving. He saw the tracer rounds landing in the general area of the mining camp, but he wasn't sure if he hit anything; he couldn't do much about adjusting his aim in this run'n'gun tactic, he instead hoped that one of his stray shots would wound one of those men he saw down there. He could also identify a GEAR moving out to engage, he wasn't too sure about it until the lock-on alert beeped at him in panic; the dog freed the first set of flares, saving himself from a missile launch that would otherwise have turned him into minced meat. As much as he wanted to pull down the guidance systems for his own rocket battery and unleash hell on their bandit hides, he didn't want to risk the life of any possible hostage held up in the mining plant; a danger-close rocket support would be maybe too close for comfort, all he could do now was to play patiently, keep enemy fire drawn to him, conserve ammo as much as possible and wait for support. If none was given, he then may have to use his last resort solution to put off some of the heat.

[MachineSoul] - I, Ninja - [Zamokra41]

While Wulfus indeed suggested the wolf to get a move on, ANY move in fact, he did not expect to see him react to the attacker that way. The cameras, albeit offering a shaky footage, caught a first-person look at a very painful display of a crude disarming technique; the offender lost it's stun baton and most likely the integrity of its wrist and after, its consciousness thanks to Sylas' intense training and the suit's responsive reflex system that helped him pull the offender from kneeling on its feet and up against the incoming prongs fired by the second guard. Then followed a huge jolt of hydraulic energy launching the wolf straight into the second guard and with a simple, yet, effective throw move, he lifted it up and slammed it hard against the concrete floor; while the guard was still alive, the rest of his life wouldn't be easy to live with multiple possible fractures and spinal lesions. The hybrid held his snout shut with both his hands, a few desperate yelps escaped as the wolf was putting the aggressors out of commission, the information pouring in from all sensors overwhelming his already stressed out mind. When the coast seemed clear for a brief few moments, he let go of his foxy snout to attempt at uttering a few words of dismay, but he was cut off by a very calm and recollected Sylas; hearing confidence in his voice offered him some reassurance that the wolf had some idea of what he was doing, even though it was most obvious that they just got involved in a rather messy business there. And, as if his world wasn't properly messed up, a loud blast crushed the folf's eardrums, his hand instinctively slammed into his lab coat pocket from where he produced a high end phone. Upon seeing the identity of the caller, his heart sunk deeper still, his teeth gritted at the thought of having to confront this person when he was in this messed up situation. The only thing he could do was to answer, otherwise, the caller would then insist and finally, barge in his warehouse. He took off the headset and swept his thumb across the screen and brought up the device to his ear, bearing a shaky grin.

"Hallå, god kväll! Uh, ja, I'm good, quite swell, really-" his voice was also wavering as he was struggling to keep a close eye on the monitor and at the situation, while the rest of him was concentrating to come up with competent replies on the phone. His grin turned into complete dismay, the voice piercing through the phone speakers bearing really bad news.

"Ja- I mean, no, no! You don't need to come, Sy- I mean. No, I'm alone, no one came." He lied shamelessly, covering half is his snout in frustration and dismay, his eyes locked on the screen. He almost lost it when he saw a VTOL creeping up from the right camera, the accumulated frustration forming a suffocating knot in his throat nearly bellowed out.

"FFFF- NO! You stay home, shit, I mean, go home! No, I'm fine, I'm fine, I don't need your presence to calm me down, you'll only- no, I am NOT crying!" But, in reality, he didn't know what kept him from bursting into tears of rage and dismay. "No, NO! Don't you-" he then threw an incredulous look at his screen, seeing that the person hung up on him and it was more than sure that it was going to come straight at him.

"You have got to be kidding me."
"You have got to be kidding me."

The lion had a very bitter expression, his snout wrinkled and his small eyes affixed on the screen. He just witnessed two 'expert' infiltrators neutralized by a single individual armed only with his limbs and armored in a suit with impressive abilities; he wasn't sure if this was someone's idea of a defying show-off or if it was a genuine threat to the integrity of their supposedly secret operations. The feed was cut off abruptly when the camera on the second guard was crushed on the ground, the final image was that of wet concrete. The shiba guard frowned heavily and scoffed in disbelief, only him and his superior were brave enough to have any vocal reaction in the car, the driver and the rest of the bodyguards were completely silent in their shock.

"I know an aikido user when I see one and that man certainly studied it enough to have it in his muscle memory. Only if-"

"Silence, Shiro," the lion ordered him "our high-value item is still at risk, I'm not particularly interested in that fool's martial arts proficiency. MC, this is A5, patch me through the escape VTOL camera and communications now!" Said and done, on the portable screens now came to life a new perspective over the city, that of a Hummingbird BE 09 on its way to the target location; the feed was on thermal, the thermally active signals in this colored wold were emphasized by a red square marking them. Soon, the vehicle arrived at the secondary LZ, the bank rooftop, where it picked the rest of the infiltration crew on ropes, two stepping inside the open deployment side-doors. As the VTOL was about to pull out, the lion quickly patched in.

"You're not about to leave two of our men behind to be interrogated, are you? Get there and shut him down, or at least recover the incapacitated." With some reluctance, the VTOL pilot acknowledged at pulled the 'bird over to the construction site, where the rest of the infiltrators immediately engaged in combat. The superior peered his eyes at the screen, trying his best to discern what was going on, until the aircraft blasted the spotlight right on the nuisance, now seeing two of the operators charge synchronously at him.

"Weapons are ready, sir" communicated the pilot, obtaining a frown from the lion "I doubt anyone will hear weapon fire from up here, sir."

"Roger, but remember, I need him alive. If there's no other alternative, gun him down."

Completely oblivious of the rather dramatic situation taking place high above in the cloudy skies, a female fox-wolf halfbreed was taking her final goodbyes to her friends outside a fancy little patio restaurant properly guarded from the rain that was still plaguing the city. She smiled and laughed girlishly while talking gibberish with her friends at high speed, shielding her precious, expensive black coat and a long, carefully trimmed and curled blonde hair dyed in an ombre styled color degradation to a chestnut tint. She turned around with a final wave of her delicate hand and headed towards her dark gray sports car, ever so careful to avoid water puddles, she didn't want to ruin her black knee-length boots that showed off her perfectly-shaped calves sprouting from under the coat, along with a dark pair of jeans just hinting her generous thighs. She got in the driver's seat and shook the umbrella clean outside the car. She stored it on the back seat - stored, as in, tossed leisurely - and with some effort, she took off her coat to reveal a long, baggy and silky dark grey blouse and a delicate pendant with small emeralds that contrasted perfectly with her own set of green eyes. She reclined in her seat to seek the comfort of her three month old car and sighed under her breath, annoyed by the cigarette smoke that clung to her clothes. She dreaded the meetup that came up, but she wanted to somehow brighten his night; she took off her pair of boots and placed them on the front passenger seat, stretching and wriggling her toes enveloped by a thin pair of socks and rested them on the two pedals protruding from the car floor. She buckled in, the belt producing a slight discomfort in her considerable bosom, a sensation she had to get used to; she preferred safety over comfort and she was particularly zealous in that sense, forcing her sibling to do the same whether he'd be the driver or the passenger. The car came to life with a purr after she pushed in the ignition button all the way in and she took off from the parking lot, headed straight down the lane and towards her next destination. It wouldn't be a long ride there and the traffic was surprisingly thin for a Friday night, the only issues stopping her progress were the red lights constantly cutting off her momentum. Her mind drifted off and away while she vacantly concentrated on the street, the low volume of her radio keeping her ears busy with background noise, but her nose picked up her cigarette-smoke coated clothes, not to mention that she still felt too hot; she popped her window open just enough to let some of the oxygenated air rush in and not get herself wet from the insisting rain. A distant rumbling echoed against the tall buildings, something that sounded much like a thunder roll, but, she couldn't count how many times the thunder roll repeated in a burst-like sequence; she thought that it was rather odd, but, paid no attention. Soon enough, the red light at the intersection cornering the Harris Bank cut her, forcing an exasperated grunt from her neck; having no choice, she rested her muzzle on the top of her steering wheel and puffed some air, blinking in boredom. From this angle, she caught a shadow of sorts appear over her head, her head instinctively shifted up only to see a large, dark figure fly over her car and over to the left; instinct dictated her to follow the shape with her head until it crashed into the alley nearby with a tremendous boom. She yelped and ducked in, not knowing what in the world that was all about and not knowing if it could hurt her in any way; after a few seconds of other crashing sounds, some garbage spilling over, tin cans rolling on the concrete and the lid coming off to land with a thud, she raised her head back up to glance over at the incident and immediately wanted to investigate. She could exit the vehicle and perform a quick check if it weren't for another car just coming behind her, forcing her to stay in; she had to wait until it was green light to move a few feet forwards and park illegally so she could get out to check the alleyway.

Another particular person was interested in what just landed in that very same alleyway and he had no time to lose; he saw the enemy agent performing an impressively precise, yet, forceful land in a dumpster located in the alley facing across from the construction site. That after it took down each and every operator, so that's quite a feat. He knew the boss was desperate the moment he allowed the VTOL use its mounted chain gun to subdue the attacker, but yet again, he proved to be a capable nuisance and escape fire; owning a portable, or mounted, firearm in a city as a civilian, or even as a paramilitary/security company, is a severe violation of the Global Peace and Conflict Suppression Edict punishable by a lifetime in prison and dismantling of all operations the violator had going if he was a businessman. Firing one would put one on death row, the violator and the individual firing the weapon; they were incredibly lucky with the stormy weather, as the 12.7 mm bursts would be partially muffled by rain, wind and would be mistaken for being thunder rolls. Another smart decision was to use caseless ammunition, leaving no empty shells behind or falling from all the way up; sure, it was a rainy day, but a rain with brass, empty shells would be rather suspicious for those below. Hopefully, no one from below would even imagine what disaster just happened above their heads, what powerful blow Dragon Star Echelon, its financial supporters and the C.E.O. himself just had to suffer. While it was not an incapacitating hit, it would definitely throw the several months-worth off planning off balance, mostly because this agent just knew exactly what he was looking for.

But as soon red-eyed figure constantly cloaked by the shadows secretly received personal word from the superior to stay close to the target location - the bank - he moved right out the window from that high floor and allowed himself to slide down the short-angled slope of the building, his own combat suit resisting quite nicely against friction as gravity pulled him downwards. He had quite a view, the world coming closer to his feet, winds blasting against him and his vision speckled with running droplets of rain creeping to the side, pushed away by momentum; seeing he was nearing the lip of the slope, he threw his head over his shoulder to catch a glimpse at the closest and tallest building he could land on safely, no easy task as he was about to fall off the tallest building in Chicago City. He spotted a relatively close roof and a tower atop tall enough for him to reach without risking breaking anything in his body, maybe one hundred meters away, judging it to be good enough for him. Thanks to a dangerous mix of courage, skill, concentration, recklessness and discipline, he pulled his legs together and prepared to spring off the very lip and when the moment arrived, he did not hesitate: his leg muscles pumped and slammed hard against the edge, the power of the suit contributing to the explosive force he outputted to launch his small frame away and in air. Now, nothing stood between him and the ground several hundred meters below, the city looking especially stunning and terrifying from this height, but his gaze was locked on the tower, his only chance to survive the fall; the short-lived moment of weightlessness passed very slowly, what lasted a couple of seconds felt like minutes to him, definitely being something one could never grow old to. Lights and rectangular shapes represented the world below, ahead were more lights shaping buildings and a lake of darkness and straight in his gaze was the communications tower of the building below. As soon as he felt his insides build up against his diaphragm, he reached for the massive rappel D carabiner from a device stuck on his lower back and attached on a strong harness integrated in the specialized suit under the combat vest and pulled hard, unlocking it from its place so he could start swinging it in a counter-clockwise circular motion above his head; he had to put an extra effort to keep the spinning motion, as the ever growing momentum from the fall had the tendency to pull the rope back up, but once the rangefinder installed on his optics read 89 meters, he hurled the line towards the tower that would soon be on his right and hoped that he timed the launch correctly, the ground below was closing in at an alarming pace, feeling his heart pounding hard enough he feared it was about to fracture his sternum. A distant metallic clang confirmed that he was successful and immediately reached for the device at his back and squeezed the lock hard, feeling the rope slowly pulling him back up. He didn't want to halt his descent abruptly as it would end him, instead, he allowed himself to fall maybe a few more meters to slow down just enough to have the line plus the momentum from a swinging motion; as expected, his plan worked out as expected, finding himself pulled back up by the rope and closing in on the left side of the building and once he was close enough, he gripped the nigh-burning rope and yanked himself away from it, coming horizontally against the panes of the skyscraper. Thanks again to his suit, he could easily pick up the rather fats pace of his ascent, effectively running against the wall and up towards the rooftop's edge; soon, he stomped hard against the concrete with his left foot and landed on the top edge of the rooftop soft enough not to make a noise and quickly flipped his body forwards into a roll by launching himself at the narrow edge with the right foot. He managed to cut most of the momentum, sliding maybe two more feet on one knee before he came to a halt by locking the device on his back.

He then tapped something on the small, reinforced screen latched on the inside of his left forearm, releasing the lock on the D carabiner and yanked at the rope until it came off the metallic frame it latched onto so he could automatically roll the rope back in the device, all in the meanwhile he was assessing his surroundings to make sure there was no one on the roof with him. Once he was sure there was no one around, he took off at a slower pace and keeping his profile low, considering he made enough noise with the rope, carabiner and the wall-run. He carefully advanced on the narrow edge, never losing balance and never making a sound until he reached the corner, where he came to a stop so he could take a low down at the next building closest to him. Judging that the fall would be withing the suit's power limit, he pushed himself up to a half-crouch to take a batter look at the distance between the buildings; now that he was sure he was going to make it, he jumped up and away, landing a few moments later on the other rooftop, rolled to save his ankles and pressed against an air vent as he just heard something on the same rooftop: chatter. Realizing that he was heard, but luckily unseen, he soon figured that it must have been the little puddle of water accumulated right on the spot where he landed. He couldn't peek over or at the sides as it would expose his personalized helmet, so instead, he pulled a thin cord from the forearm-mounted screen, bent it at a 90 degree angle and stretched around the corner of the vent, granting him a green-tinted, night vision look at whoever was coming: it was a man, clearly taller than him, half drunk and half asleep spewing profanities so that his female partner would be impressed by this display of bravery. Judging that there was a light source from this guy's general direction, he couldn't slip right under his alcohol-reeking snout, instead he crept back and, using his inherent flexibility and precise muscle control, he took a short, low lunge at an adjacent vent and sneaked against the wall facing away the drunkard. Since both of their eyes would be too accommodated with high luminosity from inside their apartment, he felt confident enough to come out from cover while the drunken man was still searching for him, nearly falling flat on his nose due to his balance impairment, while his partner kept looking back and forth, constantly ruining her inherent night vision. Thus, he simply crept away, keeping his body about half-a-foot from the ground without compromising his extreme mobility until he sprung over the longitudinal concrete block separating this flat from the one it was fused together with and as soon as he was sure he was away from their detection range, he slowly raised from his crouched position and built the pace back up.

By this time, he heard the news of the enemy agent; while surprised, to some extent, he was not shocked as he deemed his superior to be overconfident with this entire operation, so much that he dropped several contingency plans; or maybe the contingency plan boss had was himself. Either way, he had to move fast, the bank was still a few blocks away, but lucky for him, most of the building in this area were of roughly the same height; his moderate silent run quickly turned into a controlled sprint, using his soles and toes to propel himself at an ever growing speed while still keeping a relatively silent profile. Most of the obstacles in his way blended together, focusing on the bank that came closer and closer as he advanced, until he reached the intersection facing it and the LZ across and only a few moments after his arrival, the gunship above just finished firing its last burst before the agent became invisible; it wasn't his concern that the VTOL and boss just trampled over the no-firearm edict, what concerned him was the possible escape route the agent would take. His had some options, some would have him get closely chased by the VTOL even if it wouldn't be able to shoot at him safely, he could be bold enough to reach ground level and escape via the sewers or the metro line, but he would have that covered. But he did not expect to witness a silhouette launch itself right into an alleyway. He knew the VTOL didn't see him and to give them the heads up would mean his head getting chopped off: he was sure Shiro didn't know boss sent him to the LZ to monitor the operation from a distance as that would piss the dog off bad enough to have his own neck sliced open. He was forced to wait for a few more moments just to make sure the VTOL wasn't about to descent right at the alley, as that would mean he had to hide too, but once he was confident that it didn't see the agent land here, he leaped between two buildings neighboring the alley and then made sure he descended in the alley silently, keeping his eyes peeled and his sensors open for any movement. He was ready to fight, ready to kill and judging by everyone's stupor, this one man was definitely a skilled fighter. Although he took quite the fall, he wasn't sure of his suit's capabilities, he may still be in top notch condition and ready to fend off any other attacker. But not him. He slowly approached a green dumpster placed against the outside wall of the building, keeping his profile low and his hands ready to draw the short blade affixed on his back through a sliding system that allowed the scabbard slide down as he pulled the sword out so that he could draw it with minimum movement and exposure; if it were mounted on his waist, it would bump into everything or maybe even break and lose the damn thing. By now, he was right next to the dumpster and seeing no movement from inside, he thought that the agent was still hiding inside, hoping for he VTOL to scurry off already. He took a moment to measure the dumpster's height and traced an imaginary line where he might be so he could pull out his blade and impale him through the rather flimsy, plastic material of the bin.

But as he was about to draw the blade from its scabbard, he picked up a woman at three-o-clock blurting "Is anybody there, are you okay?". He spotted her with the corner of his right eye approaching cautiously, one hand trying to hold a coat on her shoulders to fend off the rain while the other held her phone with the flashlight on; he had to quickly scurry over and adhere to the building wall behind the dumpster to avoid detection, this rather annoying surprise making him lose precious time in which he could have taken the bastard down. He pulled thin cord out of his forearm and bent it again to take a look at whoever just arrived: a rather tall she-wolf with foxy traits, long blonde hair, casually dressed and obviously scared. As she approached the dumpster, he prepared to make contact and neutralize her; he couldn't cut her down, as that would be too suspicious, he could instead inflict enough damage to look as if she threw herself in a successful "suicide" attempt, as it would fit with the loud bang heard at this hour. She was but inches away from his position, he could even smell the expensive fragrance she was wearing combined with cigarette smoke and see a bit of her shape just around the corner. Being too afraid and cold, she left as soon as the VTOL made its own appearance, desperately searching for the target, while the communications were filled with chaos and anger, boss was most likely searing on the inside while Shiro would promise to have everyone's heads on platters for dinner. With the VTOL gone, he was sure he would have the man as now he just got out of the dumpster and sustained himself against the opposing wall; it was a miracle that he didn't see him, but he was glad he had a nice, close view over the SOB. Indeed, his armor, suit, exoskeleton, whatever it may be, was something else: the exterior was smooth and perfectly interlocked in places, some external muscles were visible here and there, the helmet was rather bulky, but otherwise, an incredible sight to look at. SOB definitely had the hardware advantage, no wonder he survived such a fall even with the damage his suit endured; now he was at his weakest, ripe to be killed as he was too sore and broken to keep steady on his own feet. He stepped away from his cover and with prudence, he approached the limping spy from behind, his blade half-drawn out and ready to test the suit's resistances. Just as he was about to take a cut at the knees, he froze in place as he could hear police sirens storming straight for the alley; he was sure SOB would at least take a glance over the shoulder to the sound of the sirens, but instead, started to run away, while he himself had to remain locked in place to avoid any sudden movement that would alert him. Synchronization was against him tonight as just when the target got out of range and into the slums, the police appeared from behind and lit up their lights right behind him. By the time they started investigating the dumpster, he was back on top and trying to track the target as he was getting away, when the boss just called him back to the meeting place. For once, he felt anger build in his bowels, knowing that he could have caught him right there, but everything worked against him. Now, he had to make a hasty return before boss and Shiro reached back, so, he took a final glance over his shoulder and sprinted away into the shadows, where he belonged.

Meanwhile, the blonde she-wolf just arrived at a large depot, building up her broken courage to step in and face her brother after the startling event she witnessed. She really hoped that it wasn't a suicidal. Just as he got out of the car and ready to open the front door, which he promised to unlock this time, she felt her feet wet and cold, completely forgetting to put her boots back on. Cursing everything around her, she turned back to her car and opened the passenger seat to sit down, throw the wet socks somewhere in the back and put on the boots. Just while, right behind her, a certain suited man just appeared out of nowhere and barely limped through the front door, accidentally slamming the door and startling her again. She took a glimpse by the time the door was shut and locked itself automatically, pulling out an angry groan from her chest. Wulfus was torn apart and pulling at his hairs, when he saw the woman just outside returning to her car to put her boots on. I really hope Sylas miraculously appears after she leaves he said to himself, desperate that he couldn't contact the wolf anymore. He was sure he kicked the bucket when he landed in the dumpster, himself nearly fainted a few times as he fought the operators off and ran way from gunfire. While audio completely cut off, he still had some camera feed, having a bit of hope that Sylas was still intact. The motion sensor went crazy at one point after the landing, signaling someone's presence dangerously close to the wolf's back, but he dismissed it as malfunction. His train of thoughts were interrupted as he caught with his eyes his own suit just crashing in his home, right under the woman's nose. The sight made Wulfus nearly yell and forced him to stand up and pull Sylas in.

The suit was a proper mess: dents, a scratch, the palms were slightly scorched, the helmet had an extra curvature and it stank like a carcass hidden in a trash can containing baby diapers, an enchanting odor that nearly had the hybrid faint again. The wolf muttered something from inside the suit, but Wulfus had more pressing issues at hand so he yanked Sylas and forced him into the tanker that held the once-intact suit and covered it with the blanket and quickly ran to open the door back up, only to have the woman storm in the lab to check just what was he trying to hide. Wulfus could only follow her and swallow nervously, giving her a crooked, tired and lame smile.

"Hey, Wulfina." He uttered, nearly broken.

His 24 year old younger sister crossed her arms and gave him one of her trademark chilling stares, Wulfus could only lower his head and expect her voice to boom at him.

"I thought I told you to leave me in, to unlock the door. You see me arrive, you see that I get off the car, with no boots, only my socks! My socks, Wulfus! What do you do? You lock the damn door back up like some vindictive bitch you are, ohmygosh, you are an absolute freak!"

" 'Tis definitely nice to see you again, sis."

"Don't you pull that crap attitude on me, I'm here because I wanted to not leave you by yourself, I know how you get when you are especially lonely! My freakin', I'm in my socks on wet asphalt and he locks the door. While I'm in my socks! And the smell in this place, have you ever cleaned it up, it smells like trash! Have you showered lately? Ugh, you wouldn't believe what just happened right in front of Harris Bank just at the exit from downtown."

His heart sank and fell through him, on the floor. It was over. He then simply broke and started crying, trying his best to cut her off, claiming he could explain. Surprised by this sudden change of attitude, Wulfina could only stop and try to comfort her way older brother, realizing she might have been a bit too rough with him before.

"I was piss drunk" he started "and had this idea: why not call my friends to help me with something, yaknow? No one came, man, no one came. But-" he then stopped, being too afraid to confess to her just what happened, his few tears turning into sobs. Trying her best to be supportive, she laid a hand across his shoulders, gingerly, as she feared to pick yet another horrible smell on her blouse.

"Easy, breathe. Look at you, oh gosh. You should come with me more, sitting here alone, look what it does to you: your experiments don't talk back, your computer doesn't feel, your tools can't touch you back and, like, interact with you. You'll end up like that guy at Harris Bank tonight, some guy that just threw himself somehow and landed across the street in the alley and in the dumpster. Not sure it was actually someone, but-"

Wulfus choked and raised his congested eyes to look at his sister desperately. "So you didn't see who- what it was?"

Perplexed by the question she frowned and shook her head "N-no, I didn't. Why-"

"Ach, good- I mean, it's good that it didn't hit you. You could've been in that alley, yaknow."

"I was in the car the whole time."[b/] She said with a mildly confused expression, blaming it on the alcohol.

Their discussion was short lived, not long later Wulfus opened the tanker and released Sylas to take another look at his creation battered, scratched and lifeless. With disgust on his face, the hybrid took a cloth and attempted to wipe some garbage juice off an arm and the abdomen. He then took another look at the suit, assessing that most of the damage seemed to be superficial, even identifying the reason why communications were fuzzy: he reached over to the helmet's external audio system on the left side to pull a banana peel stuck right into the antenna. He took one final look and with only half of his snout, he uttered:

[b]"Take it off." And left the lab. By the time the wolf was in his unmentionables, the hybrid returned and in the same fashion, he ordered "Take a shower."

When the wolf returned, Wulfus prepared his first aid kit to take a look at any problem he could fix: there were bruises everywhere, the palms were a bit sore but nothing serious, one nasty contusion persisted on Sylas' back, but there were no cuts, a very good sign. All bones were intact and the spine was still working, finding no loose vertebrae. He treated the contusion with an ice pack and prepared some anti-inflammatory paste, bandage and painkillers. When done, he let the wolf dress back up and have him sit down. Wulfus took himself a few moments to mutter anything.

"The suit- the suit worked. It has an obvious power issue I must look into, the external antenna is too flimsy, I've yet to calibrate the software and I'd might look into a better boot design, you were a bit unsure with these ones. Otherwise, it worked. It wasn't the test-run I expected, but it performed excellently, I'm especially happy with the reflex systemics: it save your life four times. Damage looks superficial, most of the crash-landing shock was absorbed by the exoskeletal muscles, but I don't see any hydraulic leaks to give away a muscle tear or rupture. I'll analyze the data tomorrow. You go to sleep in the bed, I take the couch and we'll talk in the morning, I'm sure we can make something out of this once our brains are fresh again. Agreed?"

He didn't wait for the wolf to reply and simply left him, heading out of the lab. He hurled himself in the couch, crushing a few shirts and the TV remote, his lab coat acting once more as a blanket; he forced his eyes shut and tried to empty his mind, feeling simply too tired to cope with everything in that moment. He couldn't really find a comfortable spot, obviously missing the comfort of his own messy bedroom, but he managed to fall asleep some point during that night and slept like a rock 'til dawn. It was Saturday, so his alarm clock wouldn't go off and wake Sylas up, but Wulfus' own biological clock woke him up somewhere around 9:05; dazzled and lost, the folf pushed himself up and tried to stretch his aching back, wincing at the stiffness gripping his back muscles in a painful tension. He brewed some coffee for him and Sylas and also cooked a massive portion of scrambled cheesy eggs for both of them and entered the lab with the breakfast; he ruffled his already messy blonde mop of hair and adjusted his pair of glasses as he started to run some diagnostics on the main console and initialize some debugging routines before he'd analyze in detail all data he picked up from the suit. While the console was working all by itself, he turned his attention to a side console where he started to analyze the video and audio feed, trying to look for clues regarding to who were those people. When Sylas got up, Wulfus invited him to take a seat on the tool cupboard he offered last night.

" Morning. There, those are for you. I'm trying to look for anything to put an ID tag on these guys. Whoever they were, they were pretty well organized; too organized to be some small-time gang and way too bold for a mafia clan. All in all, we made quite a mess of their operation, I only hope that it was a good thing we did there." He said to him with a rough, morning voice and a small smirk. "I'm not mad at you, Sairasu-san, though I was really afraid. Afraid that you'd might end up dying because I had the stupid idea of strapping that thing onto you; that and losing my suit, in all honesty. I've worked a lot on it, it's my trademark and last night, it definitely proved its worth. So I must say: I am sorry for putting you through this, but I also thank you for giving me the opportunity to have my creation, my child tested on the field. Properly so. I think I found a dent in the back torso piece where a bullet hit you: it's a light scrape with some tiny lead residue stuck in the fiber. So there's that.

But right now, I'm trying to figure just who these guys were. They're good at organizing their stuff, there's been no reports of a robbery on the news, neither the VTOL firing down at you. Whatever you interrupted there got them mad enough to break several ethical laws and thing is, they didn't expect something to go wrong; that's a sign that these guys are big, big enough to be confident that no one would dare to oppose them. It can't be simple crooks, nor mafia, nor some criminal syndicate. It has to be something much more dire: a PMC. What would they want from the bank, I don't- hold on. You picked something up?" He asked as he froze the footage in a frame where Sylas was gazing at a shiny object. Unable to identify whatever he was holding, he took a look over at the suit of armor sprawled on the floor. "Why don't you bring it to me?" He asked before he took a bite out of the slightly unseasoned eggs.