KaiserElectric

Robotech: The Macross War (Space Opera, Mecha RP)

Dragomira already began to zone out when the commander on the PA began his little speech. Nothing she hadn't heard before back home, she mused as she idly flipped through the tunes on her music player. Perhaps more about Poland then the entire human race, but still, all the same notes were hit. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little inspired. Like Grandpa always said, idealism like that was worth fighting for.

The klaxon, however, definitely grabbed her attention and kept it.

"Kurwa, they certainly don't waste any time here do they?" Dragomira exclaimed, jumping to her feet and swinging the duffel bag around to her back again.

"Fox, in your cockpits and ready to launch in 5!" McKnight ordered as the others scrambled to reach their planes. "Casablancas you're in bay 19, Dragomira 22. Try to be on time this time!"

"Up we go!" Dragomira didn't even waste time to think of a snarky response as she darted off towards the bay, expertly weaving her way through the crowd. Maybe if and when this became common she could spare some snark, but now it was time to take the training wheels off. To jump in that brand new hi-tech jet and fly off into outer space to knock the snot out of the enemies of the RDF.

Boy were they in for a fun time, Dragomira mused to herself with a confident smirk.

Clearing a mob of engineers making a mad dash for the exits, she spotted her baby. The sleek and elegant VF-1, complete with snarling hyena adorning the nose, distinctive checkerboard design, and the bulky FAST pack strapped to the top. Easily spotting the Polish motto adorning the Veritech, she was reminded of the old naval story she once read where a Polish destroyer, the ORP Piorun, fought against the largest warship in the world, flashing the message 'I am a Pole' throughout the battle. With any luck, she'd do the Piorun proud today.

"Everything's, uh, all set, ma'am," Dragomira's crew chief piped up, a timid looking Korean woman with her hair tied back, glossing over her clipboard. "Fuels topped off, ammo's filled, bit of trouble on the FAST Pack connectors but we managed to get them work-OOF-."

"Absolutely perfect!" Dragomira exclaimed, tossing the duffel bag roughly into the crew chief's arms before scurrying up the ladder to the cockpit. "Don't lose that please it's super important!"

"Uh...okay," the Crew Chief said meekly, trying to shift her balance to look at her clipboard again. "So, uh, are you ready?"

"Born ready!"

Feeling at home again in the pilot's seat as the engine roared to life, Dragomira flew threw the motions of the preflight check, her crew chief stumbling once or twice but keeping good time regardless. Getting the final thumbs-up from the nervous Korean woman, Dragomira double checked her fastenings and oxygen mask as diagnostics sprang to life in the neon colors of the display.

"Right...one last thing." Reaching beneath her new jacket, Dragomira pulled out a small envelope, delicately opening it with one hand. Removing what looked like a photograph, she paused to read the writing on the back, then turned it around to see the front. Smiling, fighting back tears in her eyes, she wedged the picture into a spot of prominence on her console and gripped the controls once again, feeling more determined then ever.

"Hyena here, ready and waiting for an ass that needs kicking."

Robotech: The Macross War (Space Opera, Mecha RP)

"Sweet, new threads!"

Kalina's eyes darted over the insignia and her name on the back, anticipation tingling in the back of her neck. She suddenly had an unpleasant flashback to when she got a similar jacket back home, one that fit her about as well as an oversized raincoat. Sure it was an accident and her squad was sympathetic, but frankly the humiliation of having to walk around in that thing was NOT something she wanted repeated here. Bracing herself like she was ripping off a band-aid, she opened up the jacket and threw it over her shoulders before tugging the sleeves on. To her surprise and relief, her hand emerged from the end, feeling snug and secure from the perfectly sized sleeves. Was it juvenile to feel all warm and fuzzy from a new team jacket? At the moment, Kalina didn't really care.

"...Dragomira doesn't need the caffeine, but what about you Casablancas?"

"Well, I don't NEED caffeine per say..." Kalina remarked, poking her nose into the coffee conversation. "But if you're brewing I won't say no to a nice kawa biała either. That's a white coffee, for those who don't know," she remarked, seeing some obvious confusion at the use of her native tongue.

Robotech: The Macross War (Space Opera, Mecha RP)

Post coming tomorrow, I'll have time between classes to write ^_^

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Pacific Point
7:23 AM

Rabbit Motors, by all accounts, was thoroughly uninteresting. The shipping company delivered big industrial goods throughout Southern California and Nevada, and that was really the only thing that anyone ever thought about the place, if they thought about it at all. That was a shame too, seeing as the Waterfront warehouse was pretty good real estate. Secure perimeter, plenty of space for storage, and a nice tall office complex that overlooked most of the surrounding buildings. It was a good place for a warehouse, and after the owner's son was killed in the Chinatown incident thanks to people like War-Pulse, it turned out to be a really good base for the Hounds of Humanity. More importantly, it had a nice secure basement area that was good for holding prisoners. That was all that Jordan Fletcher could discern other than how long she had been here, and frankly she was beginning to lose track of that latter fact. It was easier to remember how many times she had been dragged out of the dark, cold room she was being held in; five times, including this one.

“Get up,” one of the black armored goons barked at her.

“Like I really have a choice?” Jordan replied as the soldiers all but dragged her out of the caged area. Her voice was still discernable at least, even if it was so hoarse and shaky. She wondered how long it would be before she didn’t even recognize herself. She winced as the familiar sensation of blinding light struck her.

“Straight to Ling with this one, right?”

“Nope, the old Gargoyle wants another crack at her.” Jordan tried to come up with a snarky comeback but gave up halfway through. Wasn’t worth what little energy she still had. She instead waited out the usual haze of sound and movement before a door slammed and Jordan felt herself being tossed into a chair, a pair of handcuffs clamping across her wrists behind her.

“Heh, again with the cuffs,” Jordan murmured. “You must be a real perv, Gargy.” She flicked her eyes upward to catch the familiar face staring over her, just as tall, stony, and imposing as ever. She heard him called Krauss before as well, but between the graying hair and his almost gothic features, he really did look like a gargoyle.

“I’m surprised you are so amiable,” the Gargoyle remarked acidly. “I should remind Ling to cut rations again.” Jordan said nothing as the Gargoyle started to pace around her, like a vulture circling a dying animal. “I do not want to do this anymore, Miss Fletcher. You’re a fine young woman. Strong, pure-blooded, passionate…”

“…man, you are a creep...”

“But sadly, you betrayed us,” the Gargoyle continued right over the top of Jordan’s snark. “Betrayed your entire race when you threw your lot in with the muties and the aliens. I wanted to offer you a position in our organization before we found out about your little ‘scheme’...”

“What a shame…if only I didn’t have so much of that pesky human decency.”

“Voyager is not human!” the Gargoyle snapped, forcing Jordan to recoil as his spit flecked across her face. “Neither is Icon or Lyger or any of those other so-called superheroes! They are genetic aberrations and a plague upon our society, suitable only for annihilation!”

“You know my Granddad got a medal for plugging idiots like you.”

The Gargoyle backhanded her for that comment, nearly knocking her out of the seat. “And if you don’t want to join the metahuman scum in the ground, I suggest you cooperate. Starting with telling me what I want to know.”

Of course they were still asking about Riley, Jordan thought bitterly as she remembered the breath catching in her throat when they dragged in the weird box that the half-alien had arrived in, still stamped with the black anvil of Darrow. She covered her tracks so thoroughly to keep Riley safe from the freaks at Darrow, even going so far as to beg Martel not to reveal her existence to anyone, and the Hounds managed to dig up every bit of information she tried to bury. They even had the receipt for the new suit she commissioned for her, and now they had the very woman that kept her sheltered for so long. Jordan tried to brace herself for what was to come, expecting them to torture her for Riley’s location, every detail about her powers and weaknesses, even the details of the facility where she had been hiding. She braced herself for everything they could have possibly wanted, except for…

“Your mutant smuggling ring cannot hide forever,” the Gargoyle snarled. “I want to know everything you know about your contacts, starting with this Zhanya character. How do you know her?”

“I don’t fucking know any Zhanyas,” Jordan said through gritted teeth, her bemusement at the sheer absurdity of the Gargoyle’s theory long gone at this point. “Voyager just showed up in the box. Ask Darrow who she is, not me.” Her captor, predictably, was not convinced by this statement, which he expressed by backhanding Jordan again, this time with enough force to knock her to the ground. Jordan grunted in pain as she landed on her already bruised shoulder, forcing her eyes to tear up.

“This will keep going so long as you keep hiding the evidence, Fletcher,” the Gargoyle stated plainly, cracking his knuckles as he circled around her. Jordan stared up into the dark pitiless eyes of the commander, took a deep breath, and spat on his impeccably shined boots as he paced close enough.

“Bite me.”

-----

This place gave Yavor the creeps. Why couldn’t he ever be assigned to deliver stuff to places that didn’t look like it belonged to the mob, he wondered. The dour-faced goons standing with their arms crossed and glaring daggers at him and the other students certainly didn’t help that image either.

“Why are we even delivering to Rabbit Motors,” one of the other students hauling crates complained, echoing his sentiments exactly. “Come to think of it, WHAT are we delivering?”

“Uh, good question,” Yavor said, pondering some of the barrels being lifted as he made his way to a fresh stack of crates. “Maybe the boss knows, has anyone asked her?”

“Good luck with that,” came a somewhat unfamiliar voice coming around the side of the truck. “Durante gets anal if you ask her what she had for lunch. Paranoid old wingnut.“ Yavor looked up and saw it belonged to one of the other girls in the institute. He recognized the strand of blue dyed hair.

“Oh hi, Megan,” Yavor said with a smile. “I didn’t know you worked today.”

“Well, no I -umf- don’t,” she said, grunting as she struggled to lift the crate with Yavor. “Maddy asked me to cover for her though, so here I am.”

Yavor frowned. “That’s the second time this week. I hope she’s okay.”

“Yeah, me too,” Megan empathized. “She seemed a little shaken since she got back from the hospital, maybe the shooting is still sticking with her a little…” Yavor yelped out in surprise as Megan suddenly stopped in her tracks, nearly forcing him to lose his grip on the heavy box. He opened his mouth to retort before he caught Megan’s expression of stunned realization. Following her gaze, Yavor craned his neck to get a look at whatever she spotted. Nothing much, apart from a few of the goons getting into an argument with a friend of theirs who just showed up.

“Someone you know?” Yavor said, a hint of resentment in his tone for her nearly making him drop the box.

“Huh?” Megan replied, still sounding distant. “Oh…yeah, sorta. Just someone I saw at…Logans’.”

“Logans’? That cheesy nightclub? I didn’t know you went there.”

“Hey, if you know the right people…?”

The rest of the delivery passed without incident after that, although Megan seemed to be a little quieter after the incident with the box. As some of the senior interns sorted out the final details with the goon squad outside, Yavor climbed into the cab of the truck where Megan was furiously texting something.

“Hey Yavor, the address of this place is 445, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, taken aback by the sudden questioning. “Is this about your friend from Logans’?” Megan simply smiled, a devious look in her eye as she thought of how Fangs would react when 'Reisen' recognized one of the Hounds of Humanity goons from the night they escaped the bar.

“Something like that.”

Robotech: The Macross War (Space Opera, Mecha RP)

I like them too :D

Robotech: The Macross War (Space Opera, Mecha RP)

And here we go! :D

Robotech: The Macross War (Space Opera, Mecha RP)

"...if I could have, all the women in the world, I would take this time to leeeave..."

The engineers and support personnel emerging from the elevator grumbled slightly as Kalina weaved her way past them, the thumping bass line of her music player barely audible over the din in the hanger as she lightly sang along to the lyrics. As she strutted along, the duffel bag bouncing over her shoulder, it was hard to tell that the short Polish fighter pilot had nerves eating away at her like nobody's business. It was only the second squadron she had ever been assigned to, after all. Sure she was confident of her abilities and she spent the last day or two relaxing and enjoying the celebrations with her substantial extended family that came over to see her off, but it was hard to take note of that sensible side of her when the other half was screaming 'OH MY GOD YOU'RE GOING TO SCREW UP SO GODDAMN BADLY ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY'. Stupid nerves.

"Hard times, happiest days of my life, hard times gone by...hey, Taxi!"

The driver of the tug carrying what was undoubtedly very delicate and dangerous equipment swore violently as Kalina hopped onto the back, making the truck shake slightly.

"What the hell are you doing?!?" the driver spat back at her.

"It's okay, I'm only a missile..." Kalina said, waving her hand like she was pulling a Jedi mind trick. "Carry on, good sir!" The driver paused, irritation burning behind his eyes before he decided it wasn't worth an argument and just kept driving, mumbling darkly about clowns and pilots. Kalina lowered herself onto a flat surface as she sped along, looking over the other squads zipping by. A few of the more stringent commanders looked relieved as she sped by, recognizing the telltale signs of a troublemaker. Grandpa would be proud.

"Ah, Fox Squad Boulevard, right on schedule!" Stepping off the cart with a flourish, her first look at Fox Squadron made her feel a little better about the situation. The others seemed pretty relaxed, what with the one blonde girl doing pushups and the others standing or sitting around casually. She didn't even seem to be the first newbie, going by the look of the olive-skinned girl with the cool shades. And while she historically had trouble with commanding officers, the squad leader looked like someone she could get along with too. This was going to be an interesting assignment to say the least.

"Not too late for the fireworks, am I?" she asked, swinging her legs over the crate in front of her and plopping down next to Goldman. "And me without my camera. Kalina Dragomira, at your service!"

Robotech: The Macross War (Space Opera, Mecha RP)

And you'll get that post soon, sorry for delays. School snuck up on me. >.<

Robotech: The Macross War (Space Opera, Mecha RP)

Kalina will definitely be one of the newer pilots. I'll drum up a post after class tomorrow ^_^

Robotech: The Macross War (Space Opera, Mecha RP)

Kalina Dragomira

Name: Dragomira, Kalina
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Origin: Kraków, Poland

Appearance: Kalina stands at just a hair under five feet, or as she strongly insists, "five foot one". Despite her small stature and skinny frame, Kalina is deceptively agile and can move around in tight cramped spaces with ease. Lightly tanned with hazel eyes, she likes to wear her hair to her shoulders, the back end tied off in a ponytail, and when not in uniform she can usually be seen wearing one of several novelty t-shirts. She also has a tattoo depicting the insignia of the 1st Armored Division of Poland on her right shoulder, in honor of her grandfather.

Callsign/Codename: Hyena
Kills: 3 confirmed.
Veritech Specs: Kalina isn't picky about her Valkyrie's loadout and prefers to adapt to the situation, although she has a clear preference for missiles and favors the standard Super FAST Pack. Besides making the red and white paintjob into more of a checkerboard design to imitate the colors of her native country, the color scheme of her Veritech is largely the same, with the addition of a snarling hyena on the nose and the phrase Za wolność naszą i Waszą written underneath.

Psychological Analysis: Kalina is a chaotic good if there ever was one. Fiendishly clever and charming, she is constantly on the move and doing something, whether it's fine-tuning her equipment for the next battle, hanging out and training with her squad, or just adding to her impressive collection of comic book and movie ephemera. Possessing clear talent but somewhat lacking in real experience, she can always be counted on to tackle a problem in an unexpected way, both in and out of the cockpit of her Veritech. While this has lead to her reputation for being unruly, as she will happily ignore orders from distant authorities to complete an objective if she spots an opening, she is still fiercely loyal to her squad-mates and to anyone who fights for freedom like she does. That sort of respect, coupled with her natural ability and unpredictable tactics, make it easy to overlook her impressive record of insubordination.

Her nickname is a holdover from her service in the Air Forces of Poland. On one of her first missions during the Black Sea Crisis, she saved her squad leader by performing an extremely dangerous dive bomb maneuver on an enemy fighter to attack from an appropriately unpredictable angle, scoring her first ever kill. The stress of combat combined with the stress of the G-forces she was subjected to pulling out of said dive caused her to burst into manic laughter, earning her the call sign Hyena.

Military Record:
-Born and raised in Kraków. Her Father served with distinction in the Land Forces while her Grandfather was a member of the 1st Armored Division.
-Enlisted in Land Forces and initially trained as helicopter pilot.
-Nearly discharged for insubordination but was instead transferred to Air Forces. Excellent test scores in spite of behavior qualified her for training.
-Flew MiG-29's in the later wars of the Anti-Unification League. Served with distinction in the Black Sea Crisis and the Battle of Zosin.
-Began training for VF-1 after recommendation from superiors, selected as potential recruit for Fox Squadron after training was finished.