[h3][center] OSDT [i]Jannah[/i][/center][/h3]

Not every pilot spends his days in the hanger, contrary to the popular conventions some pilots enjoyed having some time to pursue their own personal affairs. Husam ibn Muhammad ibn Ali al-Farsi was one such pilot. While others spent their time in the hangers, ogling the HFVs the way twelve year old's peered into their neighbor's windows, Husam found little enjoyment in simply wondering the hangers the way his teammates did. That's not to say he disliked his HFV, far from it, the man was continuously imbued with passion upon entering the cockpit. 

Yet he also was not one for long passionate silences where he would stare longingly into the Sword Shroud's eyes amidst the hustle and bustle of the mechanics around him. If he felt like lounging about, he may as well perform such a task in his room. At least here he had the comforts of his notebook and his P5P to strengthen his mind and reflexes. Which also served X Corp's purposes quite well, as it would be rather peculiar for an investor to spend all his time around one HFV. It was far more plausible for his cover story, if Husam kept his presence in the hanger to a minimum. 

Thus he was sprawled across his bed, the latest One Ok Rock [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9buqrrwpc4]single[/url] playing in his ears as he immersed himself in his newest Last Judgement Portable campaign. Now while it normally wouldn't make much sense for X Corp to produce a portable release of their star franchise, particularly after the project had already selected its pilots, Husam had been granted a personalized copy as a way of constantly keeping his reflexes in check. It had become a bit of a contest between the developers and Husam as they sought to continuously up the difficulty in hopes of increasing the odds of Husam getting shot down in game. The new game plus in particular was extremely punishing, as the enemies had learned and adapted to the methods Husam had previously employed. 

He was currently on his fourth play through.

Next to the young man laid his open notebook, scratched out were his previous attempts at a new story. For weeks now the man had been seized by an idea, a story about a young pretty boy and his descent into the dragon culture his friends had enjoyed for years. Yet currently he'd only been able to formulate the main character's name, and that of a few of his friends. The adventures of the young Tytius and his friends would take some time to truly formulate in his head and, like most young writers, Husam would rather procrastinate than work. Thus he had found himself once more in the world of Last Judgement. 

The rest of the room was fairly rote, with the only interesting items to note were a few model kits resting around a rather full bookshelf. Husam's desires for frivolities had faded out many years prior, and thus all that existed in his room were the bare essentials and a handful of his passions. It was a boring room, but it was a comfortable room for the young man. 

That comfort was quickly interrupted by the blaring noise of the ship's alarms. 

Now if one had been peering into the lethargic man's room, they might have expected a sigh, or some sound of resignation as he set aside his P5P. Instead it was as though a defibrillator had been used upon a corpse. The sounds of the alarms electrified the man with new found energy, as he quite literally leaped out of his bed to done his gear in the closet. 

Husam entered and The Persian walked out.  

The change in appearance wasn't too drastic, it was just a simple pilot suit after all, the unique aspect was the pilot's helmet, which perhaps is more aptly described as a mask. A black mask embossed by a white X, sure it was a bit on the nose, but it invoked the company and hid Husam's hair and face. Besides, an eccentric mask was perfect for an eccentric man. For while his physical clothing may not have been too different, the way the man carried himself and spoke was not what those who had seen Husam merely in passing might have expected. 

There was a bravado in how he carried himself and new found conviction in his voice as he activated his intercom.  "Brother Hector!" by now 002's lead technician was used to the greeting cry of his pilot, "What is the status of the Sword Shroud? And are the other tigers ready to roar!"

"We're ready to launch here sir, Rising Star is already making her ascent."

"SUBARASHII!" This time Hector was somewhat startled, but only because The Persian had now appeared behind the technician as he inspected the magnificent Sword Shroud. Not one to be outdone by his teammate in dramatic launching, The Persian also deemed fit to vault into his cockpit as the Sword Shroud came to life. The hum of his HFV coming to life, was an echo of the man's own soul. The flashing lights, the opening beeps, the static of the comm system, even the pulses as the life support system came to live, it filled The Persian with even more vigor. 

Of course, another key aspect, was the syncing of his MP3 Player as his playlist started up. 

The Persian's smile only widened as he realized he was being greeted by a familiar friend, it'd be a long time since he'd been greeted by this [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uqrThlOZvok]song[/url]. As the music started building, The Persian took in every less ounce of data the Sword Shroud was currently relaying to him. He may not have been a mechanic, but the OS had been his brain child and what kind of gamer could barely understand his HUD. Now the minutiae were coming to light, as The Persian felt the gentle locking of the catapult system. Despite this being The Persian's first true test of combat, there was no nervousness as he recited the protocol he had been thought for the past few years. 

"Transferring timing controls to the Sword Shroud. Everything is Green."

The Persian may very well have lacked the mask, for there was no doubt that beneath it lay a massive grin. A grin that no doubt only increased as a single word flashed upon the Sword Shroud's custom OS. 

READY?

Y

There had been no hesitation in The Persian's selection, and just as suddenly he could feel the machine veer around as the catapult began in earnest. The words that came next were filled with an energy far surpassing any previous utterance by The Persian. These were the cries of a man's heart, these were the words that had ignited Husam's life, these words had given life to The Persian. 

"Sword Shroud!"

The lock dropped back, the lights in the runway came to life, and the hum of the 002's thrusters matched The Persian's beating heart. 

"LAUNCHING!"

With equal intensity, the catapult responded to the man's cries and the Sword Shroud finally took it's rightful place amongst the stars. "Rising Star!" came the voice over the intercom, "The Persian is here by your side. You can rest assured that he'll allow no shots through."

The untouchable man had finally arrived upon his stage. 

What difference did a few pirates make?