[center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjk2LjAwMDAwMC5TbVYwSUZOMWJHeHBkbUZ1LjA/schkorycza.regular.png[/img][/center][hr]
The sweltering heat bore down on Jet without remorse whilst he rummaged about the pile of junk he and his [i]team[/i] now found themselves near - not that he felt much in the way of comradery with these three strangers. Still, at least their little expedition had led him to this wonderful assortment of crap. A Vacuan scrapyard was as close to home as it got for him; a bittersweet reminder of everything he chose to leave behind when he came to Shade. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead whilst squatting amongst the heap. Mostly rusted parts with some Atlesian refuge sprinkled about. A few choice pieces caught his eye, but Jet’s train of thought was derailed by their overseer’s instructions.

[i][color=slategray]Overseer[/color][/i]. Jet clicked his tongue, hopping down from the pile to stand beside the other first years. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets whilst sizing up the Huntsman with a callous, sidelong glance. Simply put, Auron was pretty intimidating to the young man. Not that he’d ever admit it. He could tell he meant business, an assumption further proved when he proposed a challenge to the four of them without so much as flinching. Something about it really irked Jet. His words dripped with overconfidence - as if they were mere insects to him. Perhaps that was the case, but it still pissed him off. Caramelle’s query mirrored his own thoughts, but it would seem Turq and Veloce had no need of such clarification.

“[color=slategray]Name’s Slate[/color]” He drawled, fully aware that Caramelle was probably the only person left to hear him as his more bombastic allies charged headfirst into the fray. Sliding his rifle from the back of his right shoulder into his grip, Jet dragged the weapon along the ground while stepping forward towards their target. Assuming their instructor was now busy dealing with the head on assault, Jet took his time to scan the surroundings for what he thought would make for a suitable perch. A rusted steel beam jutting out from the top of a nearby pile caught his eye. Thrusting out his left arm towards the vantage point triggered a distinct [i]click[/i] followed by the affixed, compacted metal claw detaching itself from Jet’s wrist mounted grappling hook with a burst of dust powered propulsion. Latching itself to the steel beam, Jet pulled the wire taut before a similar [i]click[/i] reeled the boy skyward with a whirring drone. He pulled himself up onto the beam, giving it a few cursory stomps to test it’s stability. The large, rusted chassis of what he assumed was some kind of crane kept his perch nice and stable. For now anyway.

Taking a knee, Jet raised his rifle in both hands and peered down the sights, flicking his goggles over his eyes with a curt nod. The simple flick of a switch on the side of the firearm saw the barrel extend outwards by a few feet, a few of the parts shifting to compensate for the new weight distribution. The rifle pulsed with energy as Jet felt the lightning dust canisters click into place on the magazine. His breathing stilled, watching the ensuing battle through his visor. His sights set firmly on the metal pipe; or more specifically where Auron was gripping it. Veloce and Turq were too close now to get a clear shot, so he decided to lie in wait until the attacks had resolved themselves. He didn’t consider himself an irrational sort, but there was something tingling within him at the prospect of taking this man down. However faint their chances were, goddamnit he was going to try. He would not be considered the weak link among these other hunters in training.