[b][u]Soleilville Outskirts, 0300 hours local time[/u][/b] “Do you think there'll be anything left to drink?” The eager, youthful voice of Celeste sounded - - even now, bereft of any hint of defeatism, hopelessness, or even just a healthy dollop of resignation. Her dirty, blonde hair seemed to shimmer in the dim lumens around them, highlighting the grease across her face in thin smallers, all capped off by kind, emerald eyes. It made sense, in a way. They were on the cusp of a great victory, indeed -- one that could finally end the decades-long revolution she may as well have been destined to join -- but the rumbling, groaning contraption she found herself stuck in felt more and more like a moving coffin the closer her squad got to its destination. “Maybe. If our comrades are decent folk, they'll save at least a couple bottles for their glorious saviors, “ the giant laughed, earning a brief snort from the quiet old-looking woman sitting across from her. She cracked a small smile, struggling to focus on her speech through the low, grinding rumble echoing all throughout the assault drill around them. Even with ear protection, the din was practically deafening - - so much so that Charlotte questioned whether there'd be any hearing left to protect once the lumbering vehicle finally emerged from beneath its target. To call it an assault drill, really, was improper, for the contraption had been jury-rigged together from mining drills, discarded blast door plating, and dozens of hand-held meltacutters long ago. Hardly ideal for its designated task, the rig was, nonetheless, just adequate enough, and in a scrappy rebellion, that was often the best one could hope for. Now was hardly an exception. Her comment earned a handful of chuckles from her comrades, too; quiet and sombre, but no less genuine, brought down by the distinct awareness that many of them weren’t likely to make it out of their upcoming mission alive. And yet, if they did... “[i]If[/i] we make it back,” Elvire warned, furrowing her wrinkled brow together as if to further make evident her disappointment -- assuming her gruff voice hadn’t already. In truth, in spite of her appearance, she wasn’t all that much older than Celeste -- half a decade, perhaps a year or two more. “but that’s all the more reason to hope, eh? After all, what... We’ve got a point-woman granted to us by the gods above!” She smirked, casting her arms toward the sky hidden far above them, as if in prayer. “Gods don’t traffic in machines!” Charlotte retorted, a distant, wistful look passing across her face. “...But I suppose I never told all of you how that happened, did I? I mean, the parts that I remember,” she hummed, idly drumming her fingers against her knee. “I think, as far as I do remember it, it all began when I awoke in that pod, and all I saw was fire...” [hr] All the child could think to do was scream and cry. She didn’t remember where she was, much less how she got there -- only the increasingly painful heat of something outside of her confines, if past the invisible shield in front of her face, seemingly refusing to part in spite of the fact that it didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t there! It was invisible! It didn’t exist, and yet... Whatever it was barred the child from leaving her body, and the door into it from opening. The prison groaned and creaked, as if aching. As if it, too, was in pain. Was it alive, perhaps? A friend, trying to protect the child from whatever was outside that made it hurt so? That thought made the child cry even louder, sobs creeping toward a crescendo. She scarcely understood what a friend was, but she did comprehend, at least, that the idea of someone protecting them being hurt was simply wrong, as if she instinctively understood that was her purpose. Wailing and sobbing desperately, she smacked her fists against the invisible barrier, over and over, all while the flames crept closer, and the barrier, straining under the weight piled atop it, began to crack, spiderweb-like shapes spreading throughout it. The infant primarch was moments away from dying, and there wasn't a thing she could do to save herself. Suddenly, a dull, grinding sound cut through the roar of the flames - - treads, carrying something heavy across the rock tunnels surrounding the superhuman child. Beneath the industrial din, she could make out the faint sound of hurried shouting, noises that seemed vaguely familiar yet which she couldn't even begin to comprehend, and then... [i][b]FWOOOOOOSH![/b][/i] A powerful jet of water shot through the rubble piled atop her pod, so forceful it managed to push its way through the tiny, suffocating gaps between the stones, forcing them apart. The murky liquid flooded the space above her, extinguishing roaring fires that were mere moments away from burning her alive in mere moments. The child felt a sense of relief wash over her as the deadly heat began to fade, the din of voices outside refusing to abate. Soon, the rocks, too, began to shift, shafts of dim lumen-light peeking through cracks above her opened by whatever was shifting the rubble out of the way. Another grinding sound replaced the noise of treads, followed by artificial beeps and chirps, and then, finally, a large, metallic claw visibly shifted one of the boulders just above her out of the way. The voices grew louder, more frantic; some even laughed as if in disbelief. As the last pile of debris was shoved out of the way by some strange, flat, mechanical blade, Charlotte saw a multi-coloured array of sensors stare down at her from atop a long, telescoping arm, an array of cutting tools and other strange devices at the end. [hr] “... And you remember all of that?” Celeste asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow. Her visored helmet sat lazily between her lap, emblazoned with a handful of mostly vulgar Franchish phrases . “I can't remember [i]anything[/i] from when I was a little kid. I mean, a little -- like that time I cut my hand open on machinery I can’t remember the name of and my father had to try to stick it up while I screamed and flailed like a woman gone mad...” Charlotte gave a lazy, casual shrug in reply, pausing to chew her lip in thought. “I remember the crash, too.” She admitted, sharply sucking in air through her I mean- seeing Francia from high above, way up in the sky, rocketing down through the atmosphere... I still don't know how I got here, and I don't know if I ever will, but it doesn't take a genius to look at how massive I am and how I got here to figure out that someone cooked me up in a lab and sent me here, for... One reason or another.” “... Not to mention, that pod you were in [i]somehow[/i] survived smashing through the atmosphere and into a uranium mine. Considering how many metres deep those things are, I’m still surprised your tiny little pod didn’t vaporise on impact, much less protect you well enough for you to survive the experience. Almost seems like magic. ” Elvire hissed, as if feeling the pain of the impact through Charlotte, before, leaning back into her flimsy harness. “... Yeah. Almost.” Charlotte replied, slowly shaking her head. “Feels like that sometimes, doesn’t it?”