No offense intended. But there's a sweet spot on the sliding scale of realism, and most of the interest checks I usually see skew too far to the realism end for me.
2
likes
9 yrs ago
Can't describe how quickly I go from excited to sad when a mecha premise turns out to be realism wankery.
Of course, Angel and Cyare had met in the capital; it wasn't like they hadn't been to some of the more urban parts of Fiore, and it was pretty unlikely that they'd never return. But Angel hadn't been doing a lot of knick-knack shopping, especially after meeting up with Cyare and Rei, and they hadn't had time on their travels to really enjoy a market.
Plus, if Cyare had half a chance, she would buy him something first - and no doubt refuse to let him pay for anything after drawing first blood.
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh
"O~kay~!" the mage cheerfully agreed, pulling Cyare by the hand over to the market with a slight bounce in his step. "Good to meetcha! What's it you sell, exactly?"
Oooh, I can get Rei something too!
He got the feeling nobody ever bought Rei presents. That had to be lonely.
Even through a handful of incidents, given how little time they had to visit gift shops and markets, one thing had become abundantly clear. Like with cooking, Angel Ferrara did not do gifts by halves. It was all but a form of warfare; the war to find and deliver the perfect gift, even if the gift-ee did not want him to do so. Budget became a nonissue, somehow. Very endearing, but if left unopposed? Potentially catastrophic.
So even as she was lead away, following without too much resistance and with a smile on her face, she planned.
"Yes, what do you sell?" In the back of her mind she knew her questions should have been focused, first, on what he knew about the recent attacks. Buuut maybe he'd be more cooperative if they bought something first. Especially if it was cooking equipment. A new knife, maybe?
I am definitely interested. Robotech was perhaps my first mecha anime, and will always hold a special place in my heart for it. I was talking just last night about seeking a decent mecha game.
I don't think anyone at all would protest you writing a last post.
We haven't always seen eye-to-eye, but I can sympathize a lot with having a rough time. And the process of coming back out of it. So I'll wish you all the best, and remind you that if you ever do feel like you can come back, we'll all be here.
I wouldn't be entirely opposed, but I'm not sure it's necessary. Corinne, at least, is implied to have a measure of understanding of what Hazel 'says'. I was mostly leaving it up to everyone else individually to determine whether or not they knew sign language. Might instill some convenience, but Hazel wouldn't exactly be keen on someone that can poke around in her head.
As for Promethion, the Shrike's cannons are intended to be over-the-shoulder. Some boosters on the back, cannons over the shoulder, and the rest goes to making the forearms.
If they want interruptions to stop, they should answer official requests. Mused the instigator of many such requests, her sentiments conveyed only by a faint roll of her eyes. Most of her opinions were conveyed that way. Even though she was far from a new face at the fortress by now, few people got any real commentary from her. Even fewer understood it, given that the 'words' were just a series of brief, precise gestures. Not all of her teammates always understood her, let alone the general staff.
Hazel might have looked a little bored, but that was her expression most of the time. Though attendance was important (something she tried to impress upon her own CO), that did not mean the subjects were always particularly important. The weekly meeting, for example, tended to be nothing but bureaucracy. Increased security, however, did get her attention for a moment; it was the function that she had initially been hired for, after all, so she was curious to see what of her recommendations they had put into place. Not to mention analyzing whether or not she thought she could break in again.
She wouldn't. She already had access.
But it would be interesting to see whether or not it was still possible.
She scrawled a few quick notes in the notebook from her pocket and promptly tuned the lecture back out. It would have been nice to set up her computer on the surface in front of her, but her superiors said that was unacceptable. It wasn't as though she was paying more attention without it, but they were technically the ones who controlled her access to the mecha so she would abide by their rules.
The approaching liason, though, and Corinne's prompt reaction did get her attention. Watching the commander attempt to deal with bureaucrats was worth having popcorn, if there were any at hand. Shourichi didn't really do plans. She was happier if you dropped her off at a fight, let her do her thing, and come home to plenty of intoxicants.
Escort missions never go well.
Promethion has not yet functioned in water.
Shrike is not amphibious.
Hazel cast a glance around to see if there was an interpreter handy, but as usual, not when she wanted one. The idea of refusing an interpreter had been that there would be one when she did want one, not one always around when she didn't. Apparently she had overestimated their timeliness. It was a meeting, why would they not have interpreters on hand for different languages?
She sighed. Maybe one of the others would interpret. If any of them understood.
<The glorious Commander prefers improvisation, since we do not know what each Kaiju will be like anyway. A basic plan usually suffices.> It did when she got dragged out of Shrike by the scruff of her neck. Not bitter, just remembering. Shourichi was why she had a job, letting her get herself court-martialed wouldn't go well. <What security precuations are being taken?>
AT 5’5” Hazel is neither tall enough nor short enough to stand out from the average, and she doesn’t make much effort to stand out at all. Her fashion sense errs on the side of formal, if she has to be out and about, but if left to her own devices she’s more than happy to lounge in comfortable clothes. The sole oddity is her fondness for turtleneck sweaters with the collar pulled up over her mouth.
Name: Hazel Ada Stoll Gender: Female Age: 21 Job: MAX FIRE First Independent Special Squadron Pilot Personality: Quiet. Not in the sense of ‘doesn’t talk much’, but in the sense of ‘doesn’t talk at all’. Hazel’s commentary, if she gives it, comes almost entirely in the way of expressions, signs, or typed text. If the option is available. She manages to seem dry and sarcastic anyway. She isn’t particularly unfriendly, just generally disinterested in people. Unless she’s actually doing her job she’s most likely to find a quiet corner somewhere to sit with her laptop, if not retreating to her own quarters entirely. She’ll ‘talk’, if you can understand her and you have something interesting to say, but people just don’t seem to be her priority. Unlike most of MAX FIRE, who seems humanistic in the extreme, one kind of gets the impression that Hazel is just along for the robots.
Her job, however, is where passion and profession intersect. Hazel is absolutely, immeasurably fascinated with her mecha. Not just her mecha, but everyone’s mecha. It’s the one subject that will get her full attention without fail, and the only one that seems to really fire up the relatively lethargic pilot. It was what brought her to MAX FIRE’s attention, after all, when she tried to access files on the machines for her own curiosity. She will converse for hours on end with anyone in the know about them, or even about the fictional machines that inspired them, given the chance. Not everyone welcomes this, and she’ll depart without complaint if she gets the feeling people would prefer to be left alone, but such talks are one of her most humanizing traits.
Even when it comes to her teammates, she seems to prefer people in the abstract sense than the real. Skills: Significant knowledge of computer systems, as evidenced by her unlawful entry to MAX FIRE’s records. If you were to read her list of charges like a job application it’d showcase technical skill, a preternatural grasp of social engineering (for someone who doesn’t talk), a knack for operational planning, and the ability to improvise when the plan goes awry. Said improvisation included a semi-successful attempted hijacking of one of Prometheus’ components, a big piece of what landed her the gig.
Hazel isn’t much of a fighter by herself, most of her self defense amounting to pulling every dirty trick in the book and running like hell, but she’s definitely got a knack for operating her machine. What she lacks in formal understanding of tactics seems to be made up for by an understanding of every mecha trope in the book, and the willingness to test things out on the fly. Where others might not succeed, she gets by using an ever-broadening understanding of her machine’s limits and potential.
How well she works in a more cohesive team remains to be seen. Short Bio: Exactly where Hazel A. Stoll came from is a little unclear, mostly because the girl won’t say much. Records of her attendance at university corroborate her recent history, but only stretching back a few years or two; a fairly unremarkable academic record, but not one that matches up with the intelligence she displays. If anything the school seems mostly to have been a way of accessing better resources. No one that has pressed on the matter has managed to dig much deeper.
What is clear is that she’s very good at finding out things she wants to know, and this trait brought her to MAX FIRE. Whispers about what Higini Somporn was working on reached her ears, enough to make her decide that she had to know. So over the better part of a year she researched MAX FIRE painstakingly, using what networked resources she could access to study her target. Transportation of raw materials, delivery dates, bureaucratic structure, floor plans filed with local government, any little tidbit she could find, coerce, dig up or steal. Everything she found seemed to keep pointing to the same thing, so she made a plan.
Through means not entirely known (Hazel isn’t talking) she breached the Science Fortress’ perimeter under the guise of a contractor, accessed the facility, bypassed the guards on site, the facility’s physical security, and actually gained access to the Prometheus compound.
Buuut skill only gets you so far, especially when you’re dealing with effective security. Caught redhanded Hazel tried to commit grand theft mecha to make good her escape, but was apprehended. Quite stunningly, depending on who you ask, given that it ended in the ISS’ captain dragging her from the cockpit.
Between how she accessed the compound and how she managed to get anywhere trying to steal a mech, MAX FIRE had some questions for her. A long hour ensued before her would-be interrogators figured out that she didn’t speak, not that she refused. Not that she was talkative once they got an interpreter that understood American Sign Language. It’s a little uncertain who pulled what strings, but rather than being tossed to the police for a decades-long-timeout Hazel was given a choice first. Work with MAX FIRE to help keep someone else from doing what she did, and be entered into the candidate pool for pilots or cool her heels in a cell.
Hazel eagerly took the offer.
Promethion Component #3 is referred to in official blueprints as “Aerial Offense Unit”, nothing more. A descriptive name in a technical sense, but one lacking in… Flair. Hazel prefers the name she bestowed upon it; Olympus Shrike. The Shrike is sizable, even considering the scale of Promethion’s components, and packing firepower to match. The Shrike is meant, by itself, to strike fast and strike hard. Its speed and maneuverability are incredible, even if it wouldn’t win a dogfight against a more agile craft. It wouldn’t necessarily need to.
The Shrike is a pretty thick aircraft, with a wingspan as wide as it is long when fully deployed. It expands from a tapered point to a bulky rear section fitted with immense thrusters, thrusters hefty enough to send it rocketing along at high speeds. Both wings and nosecone are hardened for use in combat as either a spear or a blade respectively, turning the Shrike into a melee weapon unto itself. Its wings can partially retract for this very reason to allow it to dive and impale a foe upon its nose more easily. Its two most prominent weapons are tucked under its wings, pulled tight to the fuselage; long barreled cannons connected to rotating cylinders near to the main body. Each one fires a beam, either in short, quick bursts or in a prolonged beam. Each space in the cylinder is in essence a battery, providing a well of energy to draw from. When one is expended, the cylinder rotates to the next until all are depleted. These cannons are positioned over Promethion’s shoulders when combined. Banks of missiles are secreted away in its chassis, to give any enemy kaiju a real bad day. The craft is potent enough to carry any allied component, towards the battle or away, provided sufficient grip but does not do so often.
Though its capabilities are unchanged, the Shrike has undergone certain aesthetic modifications at its pilot’s enthusiastic urging. Bronze highlights for the black machine, a fine-tuning of the cockpit for pilot preference (most importantly the addition of a tapedeck), and a painted girl upon either side of the nose strongly resembling an anthropomorphized Beast Machine God.
(Still in need of some tweaks, but I wanted to get it moved here first)
Most of the students were evading, like his own first instinct instructed him. But classes were for learning, and the new paradigm his shield brought with it was not about getting out of the way. It was about stopping the threat in its tracks.
And besides. He was the tip of the formation. Bad form to back down.
The first root cracked down and he stepped into it, catching the tendril on Joyous Guard’s surface. It hit harder than he expected, the shock traveling through the shield into his forearm behind, but his defense held. The shield had traveled up to meet it, intercepting and forcing it aside; a movement that opened up his front, a break in his defenses the Dionaea sought to exploit. Its second root darted in and up, seeking to throw him into the air, but a second [i[crack[/i] resounded from the barrels on Caletfwlch’s hilt. The blade rocketed forward at an opposing angle, intercepting and batting away the vine-like threat. The blade had bit hard, but not deep enough; despite the deep cut in its surface the root held. Disappointing, but not entirely unexpected.
But now it was the Grimm that presented an opening. Ben pressed forward with several steps, sword and shield already drawn back into his guard. He could see the unused roots ahead, no doubt prepared for this very advance, but he would deal with them when they came.
He didn’t check behind him, despite the urge to make sure he was covered. Nuit, Sangue, even Skye. They had his back. He entrusted it to them, as much as they trusted he would mind their front. It was his job to punch right this those defenses, and he’d damn well do it.
”Everyone alright so far?” He asked casually, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline start to kick in. Doubtful it’d attack the same way twice, he needed to focus.
Angel wasn't fooling anyone, but she smiled a little at his earnest demeanor anyway. Cyare reached over and pulled on the strings laced through his hood, tightening it around (and admittedly partially obscuring) his face. She handed him her scarf when she grabbed her own coat and drew it tightly around her, slipping her sword's hilt through a dedicated slit and pulling on gloves of her own. Her own hood stayed down; the cold didn't bother her much, not after where she grew up.
With a little gesture she directed Angel towards the door and held it while they both slipped out into the winter air.
"Try and stay warm." A pause, as she oriented herself. Then she pointed. "I went that way this morning. Nothing was open yet, but I think that's where the shops are. This time of morning we should find plenty of people opening up."
The stares didn't really register much, but as soon as the detective said they'd be going Daisuke pulled his shirt on again and picked up his backpack. It had been a little while since the last round so he popped another ibuprofen in his mouth, but he followed outside without another word. The van might not have looked like much, but it got them all around just fine anyway. It'd do.
"DRU can ride in the back. Rather have him with us, since he's the only one that can fight. Til we figure out how to do it again. Where're we going?"
”Slack off? Sure you never met my old teachers?” Ben quipped, grin widening a little. He slipped Caletfwlch into the holder on Joyous Guard to free up his hands a moment. ”I think you’re on, Nuit. Round two’s mine.”
The need for a free hand become clear a second later. When they fought the Megaladeus they’d gone to the pool and Port had given them time to change. Well there was a little less water this time around, but take a wild guess. Nowhere to change. Since he didn’t feel like completely ruining a uniform, he slipped an arm out of his jacket sleeve, propped up Joyous Guard with his other hand and slipped out of the second. The jacket went flying over his shoulder to lay (hopefully) outside the combat zone, followed a second later by the blue vest underneath. His hand found the tie around his neck and tugged at the knot until he could pull it out from under his collar and undo the shirt’s top button. He needed his neck free, and a tie was only going to be a hindrance. Best not to leave something he could get hung with.
It joined the heap behind him, but he really wished he could do something about his shoes. They weren’t great for a fight on dry land, one in the water was really going to suck. But, he supposed that was why he kept a spare set around. Something to wear when these ones were waterlogged. Being barefoot would definitely be worse.
The prep gave him a chance to look over the impromptu team, too. Jumpercable and Bastille together again. He hadn’t worked with these two, though. It’d be a bit of an experiment. He had a rough idea about Bianca, at least, and her Semblance explanation helped fill in a few blanks. Skye was a different variable. The girl was… Well, an unknown in a lot of ways. He didn’t see any visible weapons. She looked thin to say the least. It’d be hard to plan for her, but that was kinda the point of Grimm Studies. Learn about Grimm, learn about the other students. Learn to fight together.
If he had to guess, he’d say that all three dealt a little more in maneuvering than tanking. Just a guess. He knew it to be true for Sangue, seemed true for Bianca’s build, style, and weapon, and it didn’t seem likely Skye’d be one to tank a hit. Left him to do tanking duty, as expected. Sangue and Bianca could definitely do some damage and do it quick, though, which gave him a pretty good idea of what to do… He fished a pair of sunglasses out of his shirt pocket, met Sangue’s eyes, and flicked them open with his wrist. Hopefully she’d brought hers. Wouldn’t have any information on the Jumpercables, but it’d be good to have an idea of how his own teammate was doing.
”Bianca’s right. We push for the trunk. I’ll take point.” The displays came to life as soon as he tapped the nodule. Obviously he wasn’t going to have any information on his teammates, not yet at least, but his own readouts were pretty important. About eighty percent Aura to start with, could be worse. Both batteries hovered around a full charge. Good to have the supply if he needed it. Caletfwlch slid smoothly out of its holder with the soft rasp of metal on metal, held loosely, comfortably, in his right hand. The tip rested lightly on the ground, relaxed stance belying his readiness. Joyous Guard’s grip felt just as comfortable in his palm, secured to his forearm just to be safe. He didn’t want some tendril getting clever and taking it away. He lifted its bottom edge off of the ground effortlessly, rolling his shoulders a little, and pivoting a few degrees so he could address his friends more clearly.
”Those tentacles are probably long enough to attack us from pretty much any direction, once we get close enough. Closer we get, more it’ll focus. That’d be my guess. By the time we’re really close they’ll probably be able to come at us from behind too.” A pause, and one more glance at the others in turn. ”Bianca should watch our left. Sangue our right. I bet you guys are quick enough for any that come from the sides. Skye, you’re gonna want to watch the rear. Back up Bianca or Sangue if they’re having any issues. We stay in formation and we can ward ‘em off.”
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