Krayzikk

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

There'll be a little revising to come, some portions I still want to tweak a little, but I got a first draft done.

Rebekah Anne Cross, Daughter of Athena

"Speak softly, and carry a big stick." —Theodore Roosevelt

---

_Name

Rebekah Anne Cross

_Age

19, born 2/29

_Gender

Female.

_{Sexual Orientation}

Bi

_Ethnicity

Caucasian

_{Years at Olympus Academy}

4

---

"How will I know, will my heart make me believe it so?" — Chemical Love

---

_Appearance

Slightly above average height. Rebekah is striking in a decidedly understated manner. Much less understated is her exceptionally long black hair, frequently worn back in a ponytail (equestrian quips are uttered at one’s own risk) to keep it out of her way. Her complexion is a little shy of pale, as though she doesn’t spend as much time in the sun as some, but still more than others. Her eyes, on the other hand, are a blue gray. So gray, in fact, they strain what would normally be considered possible. Inheritance from her godly parent, if one had to guess. The color has been called ‘unnerving’ by those on the wrong end of her ire, and ‘intense’ by those who perceive her usual demeanor. A demeanor that generally leaves her expression stoic; mouth set in a neutral line, with her eyes focused intently on her latest project.

The specific reason for Rebekah’s understated appearance, in large part, would be her I-don’t-really-care-chic sense of fashion. She’s internally consistent in her choices, but she doesn’t care much about how she dresses. Jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie work as well as jeans, a shirt, and a sweater. For any and all occasions short of an event explicitly labeled “formal”, in fact. Sometimes her shirt will near a witticism or reference, other times it will be a solid color. Colors, however, generally tend towards the darker/bluer end of the spectrum. With a few notable exceptions, most will be some shade of blue, purple, green, black or gray. Footwear is strictly functional; sneakers.

When it comes to bags, however, there are to be no compromises. Messenger style only, with a primary compartment suitable for carrying multiples books in addition to a 17” laptop. And on top of all of that, any chargers or notebooks she happens to be carrying. A small pocket for blue light-negating tinted glasses is a must, in the event of extended work time on the go.

_Personality

Rebekah Cross is a firm believer in speaking only when she has something to say. Small talk for small talk’s sake simply fills a void that rarely needs filling. Idle chatter is neither informative nor purposeful, so she rarely indulges. Her quiet nature, however, belies a mind that never stops working. She never stops thinking, no matter the time of day, about whatever has her attention at that particular moment. Most people… Are very much a distraction. Idle chatter is the name of the game for many, and given that she doesn’t play ball, she can come across as very detached. Not quite antisocial, but definitely introverted.

If one manages to get in her good books, however, they’ve earned a long-term friend. One that, to the shock of many, doesn’t really stop talking. Long diatribes are a firm indicator, unbeknownst to many, that she actually cares enough to tell you what she’s thinking.

_History

Athena has never been quite like the other Gods or Goddesses. What attracts many is meaningless in her eyes, while what is meaningless to many is meaningful. As a Goddess of Wisdom, she is attracted by exactly that. Wisdom. Which goes a long way to explaining why she was drawn to a small-time author in the American Southwest. Their relationship wasn’t very long, but it was long enough for Rebekah to be conceived. They parted on very pleasant terms; part of wisdom is knowing when something won’t work, and expecting a relationship with an immortal Goddess to last is definitely on that list. That isn’t to say, however, that they ceased all contact; unlike some of her siblings, Athena stopped in from time to time to see her daughter. Advise Rebekah’s father on his writing career when he was out of ideas, as well. She isn’t the Goddess of Inspiration for nothing.

Nor was Rebekah her daughter for nothing. She showed an exceptional intelligence from a very early age, and worked out for herself (long before her father was ready to tell her) that her mother wasn’t quite normal. Both parents gave her the full explanation when she was barely in her teens. If anything the knowledge made her more driven. She was a high school graduate by sixteen, and taking classes at the local university by seventeen. Despite offers of admission from more prestigious schools, supporting her attendance financially wasn’t a possibility. Not right away, at least. She intended (and intends) to transfer schools in order to finish her degree, but Olympus Academy is another step on the road before she does. She took a break from university courses on her mother’s suggestion, recognizing that while she could learn normal subjects with ease whenever she wanted, the understanding of her heritage that the Academy offered couldn’t be found elsewhere.

---

"Wise, for her age. I would expect no less. But a little too comfortable. Necessity is the mother of invention, and with her new peers… I think her comfort zone will be sufficiently taxed." — Athena

---

_{Godly Parent}

Athena, Goddess of Wisdom

_{Relationship With Godly Parent}

Friendly, though not necessarily all that close. Athena made an effort to be around during her daughter’s life, at least from time to time, but her very nature made it impossible to really be Rebekah’s mother. They’ve been closer since Rebekah learned of her real nature, but Athena is still more of a semi-maternal adviser to her than a family member. Whether this is exactly as she would like it, or if she would like something closer, is a piece of knowledge kept close to Rebekah’s chest.

_{Demigod Abilities}

She Who Knows Herself: Fitting for the daughter of Athena, Rebekah is blessed with the ability to analyze and understand that which she sees. Be it magic, technology, or somewhere in between she can fathom its inner mechanics and principles. In simple terms, if she sees it, she can understand what makes it tick. More mundanely, she also possesses an eidetic memory.

Hippeia: Rebekah is exceptionally fleet-footed; supernaturally so. Athena was worshipped under the title Hippeia, ‘of the horses’, for her invention of the chariot. From this aspect her daughter derives her godly speed and sure-footedness.

Ergane: Athena was a goddess known for a fondness of industry, and her varied patronage has found an… odd confluence, in the modern world. As one of the inventors of the chariot and the wagon, arguably the world’s earliest vehicles, with an ability to understand anything she can bear witness to Rebekah is preternaturally gifted behind the wheel of a vehicle. To the point that she can drive just about anything, and extremely well with very little effort.

Promachos: The First Fighter. She who fights in front. Though best remembered as a Goddess of Wisdom, Athena was a Goddess of Strategy, as well. Specifically embodying strength, the strategy of war, and justice. In this way she is as much a martial a figure as she is a wise one. From this her daughter inherited the ability to win her fights not through brute strength, but through preparation. With the proper understanding of her needs she can craft a tool, provided there is some kind of material at hand, and imbue it the properties she needs at that moment. As a Goddess of Strategy, known her her invention, Athena’s parentage permits Rebekah whatever tool or weapon she requires; provided she has the wisdom to understand her needs, that is.

_{Katie McGrath | cadetblue}

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

Definitely in. Returning daughter of Athena.

Fate/Prisma Connections (the reboot!)

@Plank Sinatra @Crimmy @Enkryption

Lia screamed.

There really was no way around it. The arms closed around her midriff, grip as tight as iron, and she screamed. From shock initially and then from terror at the idea that she was about to become one of those statues. That she was going to be another casualty, like Morimoto. The feeling was sickening. Paralyzing. That she was already doomed, faster than she could even blink, and that her defiance had been for nothing. That she was going to die anyway. That she couldn't even bring them down with her, because what was she going to do? Throw a shoe? Call them some more names? She was going to die, here, far from her family where no one would remember her once she was gone. She would disappear. The terror made the fear reality, so real that she could feel the fingers tearing into her skin to rend her asunder. Turn whatever was left into another one of them.

She was going to die without leaving a single mark on the world. Nothing that the winds of time wouldn't blow away, nothing that would not be forgotten within even her parents' lifetime. She was going to die without having lived. Because she wasn't strong enough. Because she has no magecraft, no power, possessing only talents singularly useless for preserving her own life. Because she was too inept not to die as soon as one of her protectors looked elsewhere. Because she was dead weight. So her name would join the people lost in whatever the fuck was going on, and she could do nothing while those arms dragged her to Hell.

For a moment, her resolve faltered.

That's enough of that. The voice chided, softly, and brought with it clarity. It's easier to resist at the beginning than at the end, isn't it? It's difficult to know that your end has come, and resist it still. But that's when it's most important. And this is not your end, yet, Ms. Icecolle.

The words, though she knew not where they came from, shielded her heart as much as the spiritrons her body. She was not dead. She was not dying. Hell had its grip on her, yes, but it was not over.

As the man said. Dig your heels in, bambina.

She did. She did, to slow her own descent into Hell, and absent the fear came fury. This was wrong. It was fucked up that all of this could be inflicted upon innocent people. It wasn't right.

No, it isn't. Shall we do something about it?

Yes. She wanted to do something about it. She saw Jin, throwing herself into the fray. Dorian standing stalwart, delaying the darkness with a shield even darker than that. She wanted to act.

I'll walk you through it. Become...

"... Universal. Install."

How Fearful! I Am Fearful Of Myself!
Know Of My Art!

Lia did not know where the strength within her came from, nor the armor upon her arm, nor the staff in her hand. Except she did. The effect upon her physicality was nothing compared to that upon her mind, the immediate expansion of her horizons. Her understanding of magecraft blossomed, from a meager knowledge to a towering awareness. And with it, came certain realizations.

Now you've got it. This is not a matter of strengths. This is a battle between magi. Let that girl and the nice Italian man- oooh, he is nice- deal with the statues. Find the source.

First, the hands of Hell upon her. She could understand, now, that their state was not irreversible. But she could not prioritize their safety over her own. To do so would not help them. But she could minimize their risk. The fingers of her mailed hand clenched, and in an instant, froze the statues behind her. To slip from their grasp, then, was simply a matter of sucking in her chest and slipping out of their grasp.

"Sensei!" She called out, spinning her staff experimentally and advancing back to safety inside the teacher's effective range. She peered through the new glasses upon her face, feeling the concentrations of mana, and more importantly, od, in the air. "Keep me clear, please, we need to remove the enemy magus. I can find him."

Yes, you can. Listen to the drumming. The drumming is key.

Super Invincible Max God Century Robo: Giga Assault Hell Smasher Promethion - A Combining Mecha RPG

@Plank Sinatra @Fourze @Hammerman

Were it not the end of the world, Hazel doubted that Corinne Shourichi would be let anywhere near a project like this.

No wonder the JSDF sent her to MAX FIRE.

Keeping up with the commander usually required either more caffeine or another drink, depending on the situation. More illicit substances might do the job more efficiently but they were frowned upon for a reason. Caffeine sufficed. At this point, Hazel wasn't at all surprised that she wasn't tired. She doubted, frankly, that Shourichi could get tired. She'd yet to see any evidence of it. And the mute certainly wasn't quite caffeinated enough to keep up, not yet.

But despite her protests, a faint smile tugged at the edges of her lips. It wasn't quite morning until the commander came along.

<Haven't seen them yet.> She signed, dutifully leaning in to take a sip of the proffered drink. That was about the time that Ryoma, one of the people with a bigger paycheck than her, wandered in.

The good doctor(?) had never entirely been comfortable with Hazel's presence. Not that it was something they had discussed, Hazel felt no particular need to explain herself. But no doubt the engineer had raised protests about allowing a thief, swindler, and would-be-hijacker onto the team. He did seem to check on the machines every day. Maybe he thought she would steal one for real this time?

A wider smile crept onto the mute's face, and she quite intentionally locked eyes with the engineer.

And pickpocketed the commander for a couple of lollipops, while she was leaned in taking a sip. Well, to call it pickpocketing greatly overstated the difficulty of the theft, seeing as they were all but spilling out of her jacket, but she doubted Ryoma would care about the semantics. The candies disappeared into Hazel's pocket under the table as she leaned back, looking innocent.

<They might be getting breakfast,> She added, transitioning smoothly into a small wave at the scientist presently attacking the coffee pot. The mute wasn't totally bereft of manners. She spied Jack, briefly, on his way past. There was a coworker she hadn't quite puzzled out yet. Nevertheless. <I doubt they're still sleeping. I'm glad to hear of your victory, Commander.>

<Is it just me, or does the support staff keep getting younger?>

Super Invincible Max God Century Robo: Giga Assault Hell Smasher Promethion - A Combining Mecha RPG

MAX FIRE was the first, and last, line of defense for all humanity against the monsters that had risen up against it. Its founder had the ear of every leader in the world, no piece of equipment was too expensive, no material too sensitive for his use if he decreed that it was needed.

But it was still fundamentally a civilian organization, albeit a paramilitary one, and that meant that its workers required certain amenities. For their comfort. Personal living quarters, recreational activities, fresh food. And most importantly, fresh coffee. Not necessarily good coffee. If you wanted good coffee, you needed to head over to the real sciency parts of the enormous complex. In the 24/7 standby parts of the fortress, housing Promethion's pilots, mechanics, and other support staff, the presence of coffee was more important than its quality.

In other words, you learned to like the powdered creamer if it was there, and drink your black mud anyway if it wasn't. If you couldn't stand a spoon straight up in it, it isn't fresh anymore. Make a new pot.

But it meant that Hazel Ada Stoll could roll out of her bed, pull on some clothes, and walk down the hall to get a cup of coffee in the morning.

Most people weren't up yet, so Hazel could make her way to the break lounge in sweatpants and a t-shirt largely unimpeded. The headphones hanging around her neck, their cord trailing down to the Walkman clipped at her waist, blared their soundtrack faintly. She only had them off of her ears to listen for the hourly announcements, in case there was something she needed to know. Otherwise her responsibilities for the day were pretty clearcut. But that'd wait until after coffee.

The night dispatcher was already in the lounge, presumably just clocking out of his shift. She gave Hazel a nod over her paper, but otherwise didn't say anything.

Neither did Hazel.

Ha ha.

<Morning.> She signed quickly, offhandedly. Her coworker'd get the sentiment, if not the message. Hazel wasn't completely certain of her name, but she saw the night dispatcher a bunch. As one of Promethion's more nocturnal pilots, she was pretty familiar with the night support staff by sight. The Commander probably knew their names. Hazel might, if she really thought about it. But frankly, she hadn't had coffee yet. She was firing on a single cylinder. It wasn't high on the priority list.

So she poured her own cup of mud (no creamer at all this morning, she noted, she'd have to put in a supply request) and sat down at one of the little tables. The taste, as much as anything, helped her wake up. One hand ran through her hair, helping to at least tame it a little, and the other slipped her glasses onto her face. Then she settled into her routine. Read her notes, sip coffee, read, sip, read, sip, read, sip. Nothing too eventful was on the docket today. Some pilot drills. There were a couple of things she wanted to go over with the mechanics. The biggest issue on her list was the supply shipments coming in. As a consultant, it was up to her to double check security policies and practices regularly. Whether or not any of the bureaucrats at the top listened wasn't her problem, she just had to advise. End of the world and people still wanted to steal things.

...

Maybe pointing that out was a little hypocritical.

She took another long sip from her mug and sighed. Today actually looked really boring. Maybe she'd finally get around to bringing some of the authentication protocol updates she'd been thinking about up with the boss.

In the meantime, she settled in and decided to do a little people watching. Never knew who'd come through that door in search of an early cup of coffee, no matter how shitty it was. Here in Vaucanson's nerve center, adjacent to the core personnel quarters, hangar, and command center alike, you never knew who'd stop by.

Super Invincible Max God Century Robo: Giga Assault Hell Smasher Promethion - A Combining Mecha RPG

There always needs to be someone to press the buttons.

Super Invincible Max God Century Robo: Giga Assault Hell Smasher Promethion - A Combining Mecha RPG

Hazel A. Stoll

The end of the world, and my time finally comes… How many people can say they found what they were born for?

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.

Gender: Female
Age: 21
Job: MAX FIRE First Independent Special Squadron Pilot, Security Consultant
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.

Olympus Shrike

Forward unto hell, huh? Let me clear a path.

Model: GAHS-CM-5 “Olympus Shrike”
Specialty: Aerial Assault Unit
Features:
-MAX FIRE v3 Etherion Engine (Maximum Speed ~Mach 1, Maximum Sustained Speed ~550mph)
-V/STOL
-Partially retractable wings
-Tapedeck stereo
-Ejection seat w/ parachute

Armaments:
-x2 MAX FIRE Etherion Beam Cannons (3x batteries per cylinder, 1x full power shot per battery, 3x three-round burst per battery)
-Obari Industries “Hellfire” HEDP Missiles x16
-Reinforced Nosecone and Wings

Weakness:
Though capable of significant speeds, due to its intended purpose to augment Promethion’s own movement, pushing the Shrike to its limits is hazardous to both craft and pilot. If the batteries of its main cannons are exhausted, the Shrike cannot replenish them except through docking with Promethion’s maine Etherion engine. Despite its armor, as an aerial unit the Shrike cannot persist in operation in even a limited capacity if damage is incurred that cripples its flight capabilities.

Super Invincible Max God Century Robo: Giga Assault Hell Smasher Promethion - A Combining Mecha RPG

Original sheet lacked appropriate flair. So it's been spiced up a little, component rewritten, any tweaks to follow based on feedback from @Crimmy.

(@Plank Sinatra)

Hazel A. Stoll

The end of the world, and my time finally comes… How many people can say they found what they were born for?

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.

Gender: Female
Age: 21
Job: MAX FIRE First Independent Special Squadron Pilot, Security Consultant
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.

Olympus Shrike

Forward unto hell, huh? Let me clear a path.

Model: GAHS-CM-5 “Olympus Shrike”
Specialty: Aerial Assault Unit
Features:
-MAX FIRE v3 Etherion Engine (Maximum Speed ~Mach 1, Maximum Sustained Speed ~550mph)
-V/STOL
-Partially retractable wings
-Tapedeck stereo
-Ejection seat w/ parachute

Armaments:
-x2 MAX FIRE Etherion Beam Cannons (3x batteries per cylinder, 1x full power shot per battery, 3x three-round burst per battery)
-Obari Industries “Hellfire” HEDP Missiles x16
-Reinforced Nosecone and Wings

Weakness:
Though capable of significant speeds, due to its intended purpose to augment Promethion’s own movement, pushing the Shrike to its limits is hazardous to both craft and pilot. If the batteries of its main cannons are exhausted, the Shrike cannot replenish them except through docking with Promethion’s maine Etherion engine. Despite its armor, as an aerial unit the Shrike cannot persist in operation in even a limited capacity if damage is incurred that cripples its flight capabilities.

Super Invincible Max God Century Robo: Giga Assault Hell Smasher Promethion - A Combining Mecha RPG

You know I'm here. God bless you, Crim. Merry Christmas.

Fate/Prisma Connections (the reboot!)

@Plank Sinatra @Crimmy @Enkryption

Lia groaned.

It wasn't a particularly graceful sound, but having her classmate slammed into her and subsequently rolled a ways wasn't a particularly graceful experience. Nothing was broken, though. It wasn't hard to tell. She had wound up cushioning Jin's impact and subsequent roll, but she'd seen the hit the banchou took on the head. Nothing she could do about that except offer some aspirin later. The two were closer to the school than they had been since the jump.

It was more than a little demoralizing, frankly. Jin was a better fighter than her by a mile. Better magus, too. To see her get knocked on her ass wasn't a good sign. That was dealing with one of these soldiers, and she knew of at least two. Almost certainly more than that. Jin and sensei were the only people with her, now. Excellent magi, the both of them. She already knew a little about Jin, but sensei had just demonstrated his own skill, if a little unorthodox. Jin could take anyone in a fight. Sensei looked like he could probably do the same.

What could she do?

She was a musician. In that environment, she excelled. She performed, for her club and other venues. Piano, mostly. But she could sing. She could play the guitar, if not quite as well. Make a passable attempt a few other instruments. Lia was a scholar, too. Excellent grades. Diverse knowledgebase, theoretical and practical. Certified in first aid. Looking at a career in medicine.

But she'd never been in a real fight. Not against a normal person, let alone a stone soldier.

She didn't know more than basic magecraft. Nothing that could give what used to be Morimoto any trouble.

There was nowhere to run, and whether she'd admit it or not she'd considered it. It would be smartest. Finding a clear route and booking it, far, far away from anything going on at her school. Let someone more qualified address the issue. There was nothing that she could do to Morimoto.

God, Morimoto. She hadn't been particularly fond of her teacher. He was inoffensive, but boring. Beyond the respect he was due as her teacher she didn't pay him much mind. But he didn't deserve that. He wasn't built for this sort of world. Maybe she wasn't, either, but at least she was aware of it. Shocking, still, but she had known all of this was possible. He hadn't. His eyes had been closed to it, but he still did his best. And this was what he got for his trouble.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Was she going to let Dorian and Jin protect her? Let Dorian protect them both, if Jin couldn't hurt it?

...

No.

It wasn't right.

She was small, even if no smaller than Jin. She was weak. And if she was completely honest, she wasn't that brave. But there was nowhere to go. She could fuck shit up, or she could roll over and hope she didn't die. So she pushed herself to her feet, sparing Jin a once-over to make sure she wasn't in any immediate danger. And with all these stupid trees around, she had tools. So bracing a foot on a tree-trunk, she broke herself off a branch and stalked back towards Morimoto and Dorian. She swung it a few times, as much to steel her nerve as practice, and wound it up like a batter.

"I want you to get lost!" She hollered at what used to be Morimoto, scowling. "I want you out of my school, I want you out of my town, I want you off my planet! If I have to kick your ass back there myself! Those shoes were expensive, asshole!"

"Sensei, if I understand enough about magecraft, we cut it off from whatever's making that banging, we stop it, right?" She queried her teacher, trying to keep that steel in her voice. "Can we do that with a more sturdy Bounded Field?"