Harbringer

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

<Snipped quote by Harbringer>

Pepe le wut?

@Deadnaut

Just another member of the ship doing its thing.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

Steve the cactus cactused for the 105th time that day. It was a good day to be a cactus.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

As all the other pilots introduced themselves after him, Gerard faded back into the figurative shadows, a small smile on his face. Well, this was what he expected so he didn't exactly have much to be disappointed about. Reaching into his belt pouch as he leaned on a waist height crate, he felt around for the familiar dented metal of his flask but could only grasp empty air. Looking down, he saw that the olive drab pouch was now empty causing him to let out a small exasperated but amused sigh. Leaning back, he looked up to see the familiar shape of Sarah Lin peeking over from her perch. Raising an eyebrow with his smile, she sniggered and pulled down her eyelid like a child, sticking out her tongue. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Gerard folded his arms before staring at the group forming around Ariana. As their eyes locked, he winked in a friendly manner.

Lightly tapping the proffered flask against McKnight's head, Gerard chuckled before slipping back into the pouch, standing up straight. The usual banter went around as Sterling rounded the team up for duty. Despite having the new team member, he was already treating her to their usual schedule. 'Good' he thought, 'it'll let her join our rhythm.' Looking up, he spotted Alexis on the catwalk, leaning over to look at them. Flashing a smile and a small two fingered salute, Gerard started after his squad as they started to the hangars. Unlike the others the Frenchman did not groan so much as chuckle as they were lead off. Before that, he turned around. Almost immediately, Sarah jumped off her crate, landing perfectly in Delacroix's arms before rolling off onto her feet with a happy smile. "You really are like a rabbit, mon amis," Gerard said as he slipped his hands into his pockets, Sarah falling into step with him. "At least she doesn't drink like one!" came the voice of Sokolov who wrapped his mechanical arm around Gerard's neck, causing him to grunt. The cold metal against his skin caused him to shiver a bit but he laughed anyway as he returned the favour, slapping the Russian on the back. "We must all have a toast before we set off for the next planet, non?" he said loudly, accompanied by Sokolov's booming laugher.

One by one the pilots split off to attend to their own machines. Hearing Maki try to encourage the rookie Gerard chuckled. "I am sure both of you will be wonderful together as partners," he added as he followed behind them, spotting the shape of his Marauder in one of the alcoves being fussed over by a bunch of engineers. As he started towards his MAS, he saw the direction which they were heading and furrowed his brow...It couldn't be...looking over to Maki and sharing a glance at Eric, they mutually nodded. His own maintenance would have to wait. There was a potential bomb they had to defuse first.

Just as he had thought. They had stopped in front of Tori's old machine. The tall, custom Sparrow stood as a memorial to Tori for a long time and still bore the slight discolouration where his electromagnet had gone into overdrive to keep her aloft. Standing across from Maki he shared another look before stepping closer. A few seconds later a raucous row rang out from the direction of McKnight and Williams, Tori's twin was furious, nay, indignant that Ariana would even DARE to fly in his sister's machine. As he and McKnight clashed wills, Gerard drew closer, his footfalls purposely loud to alert the two to his presence. As if on cue, Eric stepped back. Gently placing a hand onto Eric's shoulder, an understanding smile on his face, Eric once more glared at him before savagely slapping it off, trudging back to his own machine.

Tagging onto Maki's encouragement, Gerard approached Ariana with the smile still on his face. "The man is still incredibly hurt from watching his sister die in the machine," he added, a small wistful look appearing for a mere moment in his eyes, "Merde, most of us are." With a small effort, he banished the look so quickly it was a wonder if it was ever there in the first place. "But now is not the time for melancholy, mes amis," he said as he started to turn back towards his machine, "Non, I am sure you will fulfill our expectations and more, Madamoiselle Williams. If you ever need any help just call. I will always be there to drag you out of danger." His eyes flicked from Ariana to Maki. With a small bow of his head he started back towards the Marauder.

"Ah, Leftenant Delacroix," came the familiar voice of one of his assigned engineers, "good timing, we just finished up your maintenance."
"Bonjour Monsieur Lark," he replied, sharing a handshake with his lead engineer, "I assume that I need only check the diagnostics?"
Engineer Lark nodded, placing his hand on his hip as the other wiped sweat off of his brow. He was a short, stout man with a beard that would put most men to shame. His standard issue coveralls were loosely tied around his waist revealing sweat slicked muscles covered only by a formerly white shirt and a thick layer of chest hair. From the other side came a satisfied sigh as a tall blonde woman stepped back and flipped her welding mask up, revealing a high boned, soot stained face. "Well sir, I've finished fixing the last of the cuts," she said as Gerard walked over to inspect her handiwork. The blooms were evenly placed and looked strong enough to resist a few plasma rounds. "Your handiwork is as magnificent as always," Gerard said with an appreciative smile as he ran a gloved hand across the weld, feeling the regularly spaced bumps. "Fresh coat of paint and she'll be as good as new," she said as she leaned against the wall. Unlike most other pilots, Gerard did not mark his kills, his MAS remaining clean for the most part apart from a few unremovable stains. The only marks that distinguished it from a factory fresh model was the several well hidden gouges and cuts, now welded up, scatted throughout the machine. Being a CQC operator meant you tended to take a lot of damage and the Marauder was no exception.

Climbing into the cockpit, Gerard started up the initiation sequence. As the HUD started up, data started to flash across the screen, revealing that most of his squadmates were already online and that he was one of the last ones to come on. One by one he checked his subsystems, each one sounding off as operational. Drawing his axe, he strode out of his little alcove, his usual comrades moving out of his way. They knew what was going to happen next. With a heavy whoosh he swung his axe horizontally, sending a harmless gust of wind over other people's MAS'. Just from the sound and brutality of the swing, the others knew that it would have cleaved a Ferir model in twain. It didn't end there though. With flowing axemanship, the Marauder swung the poleaxe through every possible angle, the servos holding up and analysing the strain placed on the joints. All the while his mechanical legs stepped, retreated and pivoted. Gerard was putting the beast through its paces, making sure that he was completely battle-ready and that a single faulty servo would not stop him. Even a seconds hesitation could mean his life. As he followed through on a diagonal swing there was a soft click, barely audible, and an even less noticable delay. Standing back up straight, he walked back into his alcove and powered down.

"There is a slight discrepancy between servos 23 and 24," Gerard said as he climbed out of the cockpit, landing with a soft thud, "the diagonal swing is point 2 seconds late." Taking a small clipboard from Lark's hands, he started to mark off areas which he thought were not up to par. "Hydraulics 6 through 9 need to be re-evaluated," he continued as he circled the area around his right leg, "the backwards pivot seems to put a larger amount of strain on the pumps than it should." A few more observations, cheers and friendly ribs later, Gerard bid his engineering team farewell and started to approach Ariana. "Adjusting well, madamoiselle?" he asked, before frowning. The last time he addressed her as such, she seemed to be displeased. Shrugging inwardly, he cleared his throat. "Pardon, sous-lieutenant Williams?"

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

Likewise, Gerard is usually called 'Weak' for his merciful disposition and probably acts as more of a 'Don't be this guy' type of thing. Still...if you hurt one of his comrades you're better off kneeling on the ground and accepting that he's going to go in dry.

Feral

Especially not genetically engineered man eating fire ants.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

Yup, posted now. First post as a whimsy person, what do you guys think? Overboard? Weak? Not bad?

@Kimiyosis

Cat. I think cat.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

Its kinda the d'aww paternal with hair rubbing.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

To be fair, its kinda hard to get Gerard to be angry. Or ahve a bad reaction. The worst you'll usually get is silence

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

<Snipped quote by SirBeowulf> Indeed. Haven't you ever played I Am Bread? Pure rage, pure fury.

@Deadnaut

That game was weird...but funny. Anyways, posted and gave some detail on Tori's last moments. Let me know if I need to change anything

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

Sitting quietly in the no-man's land between Astelion and the rest, Gerard clutched a small silver flask in his hand. The Noveau France tricolour was embossed on front along with his name. It was an old little thing, well maintained but still bearing the regular knocks, scratches and dents that one would expect of having been in his hands as an infantryman. It was one of his hold backs, a homage if you will, to his time as a grunt. Taking another small sip, he flashed a small melancholic smile to Eric as the wine slid its way down his throat. In return, he received a moody glare before Eric turned away. Sooner or later that man would have to stop mourning over the death of his sister...harsh as it may seem. However this was war, and in war losses were incurred. Gerard would be lying if he said that Tori's death did not impact him at all, hell her death had hit all of them hard. His eyes flicked towards a battle-scarred, mutton chopped monster. Well...perhaps not all of them. Heaving a small sigh, he stashed the flask away into one of the myriad pouches he habitually kept and rolled his neck. Images of those scant few seconds played back in his mind as he stared off into a porthole. After a botched firefight with coalition forces, the 7th were being evacuated, the heavily armoured drop ship taking a great risk to drop into a hot zone. As everyone filed on, returning fire to their aggressors, Tori took a heavy round through the cockpit, the machine falling just short of their dropship. "TORI!" Eric shouted as he rushed forwards. With the flat of his axe, Gerard slapped him across the chest with Marauder's powerful servos, knocking him further back into the dropship. The fire intensified as the coalition members whooped upon their kill. There was no way they were going to let them take Tori, but their pilot was already starting to dust off. Given little other choice, Gerard extended his left arm and fired off the grapple. With a loud clank, the electromagnet fused to the Sparrow and the alloy chain tightened. Feeling his own machine beginning to slip, Gerard lifted his axe up before slamming the head down into the fuselage. Now with leverage, he tried to hoist Tori up even as they rose further into the air. The motor servos whined but persevered as he hauled the machine up, using every ounce of remaining power in the machine just to keep her airborne. Eventually the others helped as theey stabilised, pulling Gerard, chain and all, further into the bulkhead. He still vividly remembered Eric's face as he jumped out of his MAS. The din of voices brought Gerard back from his reverie as his head snapped away from the armorcrys of the porthole. It seemed that their new member had arrived safe and sound, although Delacroix trusted the UEE enough with their pilots since they were a precious resource. Like everyone else, Gerard was a little bit apprehensive about having a green recruit on their team, but he figured that if they were going to have one, they might as well be malleable.. Wes was, as always, straight, rude and to the point in the least elegant way possible, but Gerard couldn't say that he disliked that about him. Not that he liked that either though. He gave a basic introduction of all the team members, but he suspected that they would most likely reintroduce themselves especially after how he butchered most of their names. With a small chuckle, he started to pace towards the squad, his deep feelings of melancholy firmly pushed down, unlike Eric who was still pacing like a caged animal. First to reintroduce themselves was Alice, their most robotic member. Generally Gerard enjoyed spending time with the AI. She was interesting in a way most humans were not, and she bore a certain social purity and child-like naivety that the Frenchman would rather protect. Such a thing was incredibly rare in the universe. While he wasn't exactly clear how she felt about him Gerard felt slightly paternal towards her. "Brusque and tactless as always, monsieur Shanks, not to mention forgetting yourself, mon'amie," Gerard piped up as he slowly stepped further forward, his heavy boots ringing against the deck of the ship, "and while your introductions are appreciated, perhaps I shall give a bit more detail and accuracy, non?" With his wavy hair tied back, an unscarred face and warm caramel eyes, Gerard probably looked the least threatening to the newbie, especially next to Wes. "Madamoiselle Williams," Gerard said with a small bow from the hip, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Gerard Delacroix, your melee specialist and front-liner."Turning around, he gestured to Wes, "this is monsieur Wes Shanks, a...bête, both in combat and off. He is usually partnered with me on the frontlines." There was a crash followed by a muffled 'Chyort!' from the direction of a stack of crates and a large imposing man walked out from behind them, rubbing his head. Probably sleeping off another bottle of vodka, Gerard thought with a smile, "and that would be Alexei Sokolov, my drinking partner," the Frenchman said, indicating the Russian. "Though ye heven't been drinking with me enough recently," the bear of a man replied as he lifted an empty glass bottle.