"Looks like we both agree on that, an' that means I picked well gettin' y'all in the unit. As you were, Nawlin. We'll catch up later."
"Aye sir" nawlin eplied, snapping a salute, before bending to pick up his beers, turning to the ground team.
"Hows everyone holding up?" he asked, holding up the remainder of beers to the team for those that wanted one.
the following morning, after a far too short night, nawlin got up and pulled on a black T-shirt and a pair of fatigue pants, before padding to the gym. Determined not to be a lazy gear pilot, and ashamed of his lack luster ground performance on the last mission, he set out on a jog on an empty tradmill. Earbuds playing, he worked out a good warm up, starting ith a deceptivly slow recon shuffle untill the song shifted to a more intense one. rolling from the energy saving jog to a longer lopeing stride mike sweat on the machine. 15 minuets and a mile and a half later, mike ramped it up into a pounding run, determined to add another two miles before he reversed the trend for a cool down. After a short sparring session with waited equipment, mike headed for the showers, and then wondered about the Claw. this pretty much made up the next few days.
Arrival Day:
Blade explained the situation and thankfully, the group woud stay active, getting much needed reinforcment.
"-Stand to ready to pilot yer GEARs off the ship, an assist with unloadin' the landcruiser. Y'all got ten minutes!"
"Aye sir" mike hollored amoung the brief cacophany of responces before jogging into his room to pick up his rucksack and duffle, before double timeing to the GEAR bay. slowing to stop infront of the head tech, mike apologized for not acknowloging them last time. after a brief talk, mike looked up to see another tech chipping at the left camera.
"damed thing is fused to the armor, hope they got some heavier tools out there" the tech muttered as he scrolled through the needed repairs.
with not much else to do, he dumped his gear out of the way and sat on the duffel.
"Aye sir" nawlin eplied, snapping a salute, before bending to pick up his beers, turning to the ground team.
"Hows everyone holding up?" he asked, holding up the remainder of beers to the team for those that wanted one.
the following morning, after a far too short night, nawlin got up and pulled on a black T-shirt and a pair of fatigue pants, before padding to the gym. Determined not to be a lazy gear pilot, and ashamed of his lack luster ground performance on the last mission, he set out on a jog on an empty tradmill. Earbuds playing, he worked out a good warm up, starting ith a deceptivly slow recon shuffle untill the song shifted to a more intense one. rolling from the energy saving jog to a longer lopeing stride mike sweat on the machine. 15 minuets and a mile and a half later, mike ramped it up into a pounding run, determined to add another two miles before he reversed the trend for a cool down. After a short sparring session with waited equipment, mike headed for the showers, and then wondered about the Claw. this pretty much made up the next few days.
Arrival Day:
Blade explained the situation and thankfully, the group woud stay active, getting much needed reinforcment.
"-Stand to ready to pilot yer GEARs off the ship, an assist with unloadin' the landcruiser. Y'all got ten minutes!"
"Aye sir" mike hollored amoung the brief cacophany of responces before jogging into his room to pick up his rucksack and duffle, before double timeing to the GEAR bay. slowing to stop infront of the head tech, mike apologized for not acknowloging them last time. after a brief talk, mike looked up to see another tech chipping at the left camera.
"damed thing is fused to the armor, hope they got some heavier tools out there" the tech muttered as he scrolled through the needed repairs.
with not much else to do, he dumped his gear out of the way and sat on the duffel.