Jaromir Zhu
Getting her hands on a heavy mech, even a fairly pedestrian one like the Dragon, was a high more powerful than that of any narcotic. Just looking at the beast gave Fuka the power to fight anyone and do anything, and the inspection of the cockpit?
Oh, if only she could have harnessed the rush she got sitting so high up! The operation would have been over in under an hour.
But the euphoria induced by getting a new toy faded just like every other drug, Fuka’s excitement cooled by the knowledge that she had a long sixteen hours ahead of her. Part of that time would be spent familiarizing herself with the system to be sure and another chunk would be taken up by sleep, but there was still a good while where she’d be stuck sitting with her mechanical thumb up her ass.
With nothing better to do, she took to roaming the Ankhanne, learning the layout of the death trap that she now called home. Stumbling into the common area she saw that someone else had the same idea. Burn Scars had already taken up residence there, but surely there was room for one more.
"Hey boss, how’s it going?."Jaromir had spent a few hours familiarizing himself with his new ride, putting work in the simulator. At least the new Trenchbucket was nice and speedy, even if it still had less armor than he would’ve felt comfortable with. The SRM launcher would have to be swapped out at the first opportunity, though. The autocannon ammo was already placed in an absurd spot, and he didn’t need more risks of ammo explosions. But the techs didn’t have the time to even place the autocannon rounds somewhere less ridiculous than in the same compartment as the PPC, so he was just spinning his wheels in the lounge.
He looked up from where he had splayed across an entire couch, raising his only remaining eyebrow at the woman who was addressing him.
”Boss? I know I look like I came out of the meat grinder, but shit, didn’t think I’d resemble that old man just yet.” Jaromir gave a brief, barely amused chortle.
”If you’re looking to kill time, there’s seats over there.” He gestured vaguely around the room, not caring which she ended up taking.
"Most people are 'Boss' to me until I get another name for them." Ulrik was Sir because she didn't want him to bother her about it, Alvin was Slave because he earned the moniker and Bastard because he was born with it. The hard-faced man spread out over the couch like a bird strike against a Sparrowhawk had been rendered Boss because it seemed nicer than the alternative.
"I'm good, but thanks." Restlessness had crept in, pushing her to pace the same small section of common room floor even as she sized up her flight-mate. Fuka had plenty of questions for everyone on her new team but no idea which ones to start with. But hey, anything that made conversation was good to bring up, right?
"You were in the war?"He really shouldn’t have been surprised to be asked about that. It wasn’t something Jaromir liked to talk about, but not for the usual reasons. No, being Capellan and fighting in the war translated to the natural and entirely factual assumption that he’d gotten his shit pushed in. Not the best thing to lead off with among mercenaries if one wanted to be taken seriously. With a sigh, he nodded reluctantly.
”Yep. Second Ariana Fusiliers. Combat drops on Tikonov and Algot. Don’t think I need to explain how that crap went. Swear to God my combat record’s better after I deserted.”Oh, a Capellan then. The poor bastards had gotten hammered in the outcome, and deservedly after their showing against the 'Free Republic'. To be fair the Combine had also lost pretty badly, but not "a third of its turf went to the FedSuns" badly.
"Yeah I can see that. Nice to meet another deserter though, makes me feel like I'm in good company."Now it was Fuka's turn to snicker, heels planting themselves against the deck as she spun around abruptly.
"Seriously, I should have done this years ago. Playing soldier but actually getting paid for it? Seems like a pretty good deal!" For her anyway. Fuka could not imagine doing anything except piloting a mech so her aspirations could only ever be making more c-bills in bigger and badder rides.
”This your first rodeo as a merc?” Jaromir inquired, though he figured he could guess the answer already.
”Fair warning, then: don’t expect to get paid for shit the first few years. You’ll be lucky to make twenty grand a year in most outfits until you make officer or the bean counters realize you’ve been here long enough that you’re actually worth something. The money only just started flowing in for me when my last unit went kaput. Least the room, board, and Mechs are free.” He sighed, before something else came to his mind.
”While we’re here…feel free to tell me to screw off if this’s too personal, but what’s with you and the Feddie? Seems like you’ve got history. You fucking with him or you fucking him?” Not that he especially cared, but it’d be nice to be forewarned of any interpersonal dysfunction before it became a problem in the field.
"Ah, fair enough. Would rather be broke and relatively independent than broke and having the officers breathing down my neck." She had gotten quite enough of that during in time in the Cadres, making sure her buttons were polished because if they weren't the higher-ups would make her run wind sprints in the rain. Fuka could put up with getting ripped off, as long as she managed to squeeze some fun out of the experience.
The mention of the "Feddie" made her smile, the grin absolutely shark-like as she finally came to a halt.
"Alvin you mean? Oh that's a great story."Now Fuka pulled up a chair, dropping into it backwards so she could drape her six-foot frame over the back.
"So, I was in the war-" and here she provided proof, pulling away the latex sheath that covered her metal arm.
"Future officer of the Mustered Soldiery, served with distinction until discharged due to injury, you get it. But before I get my arm blown off I'm part of the Sun Zhang Cadres, cadets from officer school given the particularly nasty assignments."The sleeve was simply laid over over the chairback, Fuka already too into her tale to bother with the fiddly process of putting it back on.
"My flight's out on patrol one day when we get word about a FedSun flight coming our way. We have the advantage where we are so we set up an ambush to blast them apart. No survivors, except for the Shadow Hawk I crippled. Take a guess as to who staggered out of it.At least she finally stopped pacing. Jaromir simply nodded as Fuka finished her story, mildly surprised by the sheer coincidence behind it all. Shit deal for him, by all accounts. Judging by her calling him a slave, Jaromir could very well surmise what happened next. Considering his parents were slaves in all but name, he couldn’t very well say he approved of such. But at least the Dracs didn’t fucking dress it up while still pretending they were equal.
”House slave, huh? Guess he’s got a reason to be a resentful little shit to you, then. He gonna be that moody with the rest of us? I’d like to have lancemates that know the score. Or, if they can’t manage that, at least be able to shut up about it in the field.”"Yep! The MPs beat him into next week and shipped back to my family's home, and he was cowed like a good boy his entire tenure. He didn't even try to escape until I skipped out, had to hide in some old laundry."The experience had been a fond one for Fuka, the samurai chuckling at the memory of it and Alvin's little outburst during the briefing.
"As for you guys, I don't know. On the one hand he's got some pretty strong feelings about battlefield ethics."The eye-roll was intense. Just because Alvin felt bad about losing didn't mean that anyone else had to play along with his proclivity for hand-holding the enemy.
"On the other, he's probably looking for approval. He claims to be a bastard from Davion, the actual House Davion. Apparently they didn't even give him a pat on the back when he got back home, which is how he ended up here. Whether or not that's true he's all screwed up and desperate for some sort of pride. Give him a few battles and he;ll get over it soon enough, I think."Oh, for fuck’s sake. This grown man sounded more like a teenager, by all accounts. Jaromir didn’t even bother hiding the roll of his eyes as Fuka described Alvin, one hand rising up to pinch his brow afterward.
”Great. I love sharing the battlefield with overgrown children. He better be good at his job. That, or I really hope you don’t know him as well as you think you do.” Jaromir groused, shaking his head. Then something else occurred to him. It probably should have come to his mind far sooner.
”By the way, don’t think we ever got each other’s names. Jaromir Zhu.”"Yep. He kind of sucks, but I figure that he'll either get with the program or quit. To be honest, I doubt he's going to live long if he stays, doesn't strike me as the warrior type."Alvin was amusing, in the same way a housecat was amusing. He took himself too seriously and would hiss when his whims weren't being fulfilled but all it took was a hand on the nape of his neck and he would find himself chucked into a closet until he calmed down.
"Oh right!The chair was wiggled forward, the younger of the mercenaries tipping her seat forward towards the older.
"Nakano Fuka. Most people use Fuka, I don't really care.She balanced on the toes of her boots, chair propped up only on its front legs as she extended her robo-hand for Jaromir to take.
"Good to meet you!"Jaromir took the prosthetic hand and gave it a firm shake in response. No sense being rude to new squadmates, after all. With that done, he rose from his prone position on the couch, standing.
”Think we’ll get along fine. You don’t seem like the type to start reciting bushido at me, and I’m not trying to go all Cappie propaganda on anyone. Hell, I just want to do my job, get paid the big bucks, and retire somewhere quiet. Anyways, think I’m gonna track down the sleeping quarters and get some rack time before we drop. Try not to get yourself killed out there, alright?” He strolled off, giving a lazy wave behind him as he did so.
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