[center][h1][b][color=39b54a]V[/color][color=00aeef]I[/color][color=ed1c24]V[/color][color=662d91]E[/color][/b][/h1][/center] The four girls had each found a different use for the time they were spending waiting outside the airship. None of them were asleep, although most of the team probably wished the opposite was the case. It was Viv, awake, alert, and almost wary, who held the rest of her team to a strict command: when the team from Vale showed up, exhausted and bedraggled, they would be the definitions of poise and control. Three of those definitions, having been robbed of their beauty rest, quickly devolved into restlessness. Veronique Pressman's feet were crossed at the ankles, splotches of ink occasionally soaring up and cresting against her cheeks and nose to join the freckles there as she scribbled. Her buds were practically fused into her ears. Iris Fouquet was reading brochures for mountaineering trips along the treacherous coast of Old Mantle. Evangeline Sparr had parked in Viv's lap, braced by the team leader's reluctant hands on her sides as she continued her... Interrogation. [color=662d91]"Viv, I've been thinking."[/color] [color=39b54a]"[i]Please[/i] get off of me."[/color] [color=662d91]"Don't you think they need a better term for UFOs?"[/color] Even the other girls turned their head at that one, curious what the girl with the eggplant-colored hair and the bruised eggplant for a brain had to say on this particular topic. [color=39b54a]"No."[/color] [color=662d91]"Well, think about it, Viv. What about them is really unidentified? We know they're shaped like cigars or saucers, don't we? Really, they look like submarines if you look at videos. Who says we didn't just take them and turn them into submarines? [i]They're[/i] cigar shaped too, right?"[/color] [color=39b54a]"We don't know if they're alien craft,"[/color] Viv said wearily, as if answering the question directly would defuse her best friend's stupidity before the sparks began to shower from her cranium. [color=39b54a]"That's why they're unidentified."[/color] [color=662d91]"But they have several [i]possible[/i] identities. If we have a series of hypotheses on what the flying objects could be, then at the very least we should be able to ascertain that they are, at minimum, flying craft. Just like we don't call a murderer an 'unidentified killer person,' do we? Just like we know they were killed by a person, we know a UFO is some form of craft. Making them identified in a sense, right, Viv?"[/color] Vivianne blinked in surprise. In the darkness of the 3:00 AM hour, Evan's bright red eyes shone with curiosity - and a hint of steel. [color=39b54a]"...I suppose that's one way to look at it,"[/color] she said begrudgingly. [color=39b54a]"What brought this on?"[/color] [color=662d91]"Oh, I've just been thinking, Viv,"[/color] Evan replied brightly, and after that she returned to nuzzling her team leader, head tucked underneath Vivianne's strongly-set chin. Veronique's eyebrows raised as her mouth set in tight amusement, and she returned to her notepad. Her sharp-featured expression was all the comment she needed to make. Until she commented. [color=ed1c24]"You know nobody else in the world is going to be awake and functioning for a pre-dawn hit, right?"[/color] she asked the team leader bluntly. [color=ed1c24]"Nobody else operates on Paranoid Cokehead Standard."[/color] [color=39b54a]"You might think so. You'd be wrong again, bitch,"[/color] Viv replied. [color=39b54a]"Our support team is captained by the Atlesian."[/color] A pair of groans rang out from two of her subordinates. [color=ed1c24]"I saw him in combat class,"[/color] Pressman protested. [color=ed1c24]"He's an asshole. They probably unleash him on poor people for fun up there, those evil fucks."[/color] [color=662d91]"He turned into a girl in Gym,"[/color] Evan mused. [color=662d91]"First he wasn't sexy, then he was, Viv. I was confused."[/color] [color=00aeef]"I've never seen him not look sexy."[/color] Iris grinned and made a show of licking her lips at Evan. [color=00aeef]"You're missing out on half the fun."[/color] [color=ed1c24]"He's probably a Ken doll. When he's close enough to seduce you, his programming tells him to kill. They didn't design him to actually have to fuck,"[/color] Pressman mused. [color=ed1c24]"Shoot your shot, Iris. Here he comes."[/color] Viv would have taken much more satisfaction in being right if she hadn't shared a similar loathing for the boy that approached them. He had his own pair of earphones in, a pair of wireless buds that would have been hidden in his long hair were it not for their metallic sheen. His walk was brisk, like he'd been impatient for the mission to start himself. More infuriatingly, it made Viv feel as though [i]they[/i] were the ones who were holding [i]him[/i] up, even though they had set a hard deadline for 4:00 AM and VIVE had all assembled at the airship forty five minutes in advance. As far as she could tell, the Atlesian had come alone. He beheld all four of them, head bobbing slightly. Viv realized that he still had music playing. She calmed herself with a low breath. [color=39b54a]"Hello,"[/color] she greeted him with cold courtesy. [color=39b54a]"I am Vivianne. I hope we work well together."[/color] His head was still bobbing. Left and right, subtly. He hadn't stopped his music. [color=39b54a]"Hello?"[/color] Why wasn't he stopping his fucking music? Was something wrong with him? Could she be too quiet? No. Jericho Piper was staring right at her. With all the lights on Beacon's helipad, one could be forgiven for thinking it was three hours later than it was. There was no way he was ignorant of her. This was just [i]ignoring[/i] her. [color=39b54a][i]Fuck's sake, he's even mouthing fucking lyrics.[/i][/color] Right at her face! She would be convinced it was mocking her if his face wasn't so damn expressionless. Was he retarded? His gaze had drifted away from Viv and Evan (who looked at the Gold Stripe expectantly, as if waiting for him to start shooting at random and growing curious at the prospect) and towards another member of the team. The only other member who wore earbuds like himself. Viv felt her stomach and heart clench with fury. To say something would be to let the fascist cocksucker assert control over [i]her[/i] team to fit [i]his[/i] whims, but if he just kept standing there, she would wind up beheading him. Such an outcome would help nobody. [color=39b54a]"Pressman, take those earbuds out."[/color] Veronique Pressman's head snapped up, elfin eyes indignant. [color=ed1c24]"What, are you fucking serious?"[/color] she snapped. [color=ed1c24]"I'm centering myself!"[/color] Jericho Piper raised his hands to waist level and snapped, too. Fingers left, fingers right, fingers left, fingers right. His mouth refused to even twitch; his commitment to getting under the skin of each Mistralian girl was unfailing, even though he was meeting with mixed success. Evan had a goofy grin on her face as always, and Iris had clearly found some measure of rhythm in his motions. She mimicked them, throwing in her own finger snaps and an occasional slap on one toned, tanned thigh. Pressman hesitated, mouth curling upwards in a snarl, before she finally relented and pulled her buds out from her ears. Jericho didn't, but he instantly stopped all movement and turned his attention back to Viv. [color=9e0b0f]"Team VIVE. It's nice to [i]finally[/i] meet you. have one question,"[/color] he said suddenly, speaking for the first time. His sudden turn to all business had been brusque, but at least it beat him goofing off and making the girls look like idiots. [color=39b54a][i]Asshole. What does he mean, finally?[/i] "Everything should have been in your briefing, if you read it."[/color] [color=9e0b0f]"I read it on my run this morning. It was vague. What do you want crippled? The whole product? Personnel or warehouse? Are we going in light or heavy?"[/color] Evangeline looked up at Viv expectantly, eyes wide. Viv was a second too slow in answering, mind racing to calculations even as-- [color=662d91]"Heavy!"[/color] Evan burst out. Jericho focused his attention on her for the first time for a second before he turned to leave them, just as unceremoniously as he'd asked his question. [color=39b54a]"That's up for discus--"[/color] she started, but of course he cut her off. Chauvinist fucking asshole. Fucking [i]fascist.[/i] And Evan, his willing collaborator, seduced by the pair of firearms holstered to his chest. Her treachery was in the fucking blood. [color=9e0b0f]"Okay,"[/color] he said simply. [color=9e0b0f]"Heavy. Forty minutes. I'll be back."[/color] Before the eyes of the team, he just...started to walk away. Iris began to laugh incredulously. Evan went a step further, lifting a finger gun and yelling out, [color=662d91]"Hasta la vista, baby!"[/color] but Jericho didn't turn to acknowledge it. Viv looked down at her mutinous best friend. [color=39b54a]"Traitor,"[/color] she grumbled. [color=662d91]"Grumpster."[/color] Evangeline Sparr beamed. [color=662d91]"I like him. We're friends now."[/color] [hr] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/cXxrzFd.png[/img][/center] [@Write] [@HereComesTheSnow] [@FlitterFaux] [i]Holy crap.[/i] Did that just happen? [color=9e0b0f][i]The absolute state of transfer students.[/i][/color] Jericho grinned as he maneuvered through Beacon's dormant hallways. In a few hours, the majority of the teams would be mobilizing for their missions, but missions required sleep and preparation. Those who weren't indulging the former would no doubt be engaged in the latter, meaning no one would be able to catch Jer expressing his pleasure with how easily his character assessment of the four girls had gone. It was hard to imagine those four princesses as his backup aboard the yacht last weekend. For the first time in his life, he appreciated Bianca Nuit for being alive. The second time came a minute later, after he made sure to wipe the smug smile off his face before entering his dorm. The bathroom door was closed and another bed was unoccupied, particularly the one that was most suited to a winged occupant. Bianca was no doubt showering and doing her makeup, which was just fine in Jer's book. It meant he had a few more minutes to prepare before he talked to her. He thought he'd entered the dorm quietly, but there was no telling whether or not Bianca had heard him enter or whether she had noticed his bed was empty. She had to have. On at least one occasion he had felt a stare aimed at his bed from the direction of hers, but it couldn't be helped. The alternative was sleeping with a shirt on, which was inconceivable and uncomfortable. His mole would have been appalled. Reaching under his bed, he half expected to feel the hair of the mole in question, camped underneath his mattress awaiting deployment orders. But there was no hair, nor the telltale grab of his fingers before he could extract them from her range. He didn't hear the telltale munching of her foraging for snacks, either. All Jer felt was a duffel bag. That'd have to do. He pulled the bag out and placed it upon his bed before walking over to the floorboards he'd uprooted on his first afternoon in the dorm. He began foraging himself - this time for the guns he deemed appropriate for [color=662d91][i]'heavy.'[/i][/color] The ones he couldn't pack, he would probably have time to dismantle now and rebuild on the plane, right...?