Supermaxx

Superboy's Shitty Characters

LAUNCH

CDR. ROSS
VITAE LOG #5
Morning, 2221
♪♪♪

---

The Nyx was abuzz with activity for the first time since the Vitae had launched. Engineers, scientists, aids and technicians were swarming the Nyx's relatively small bridge. Last minute systems checks were being run thrice over; though the Nyx was in tip-top shape as always, Command felt it necessary- she was carrying some of the most vital members of the Vitae's crew on it's most important mission yet, after all.

While Elijah couldn't exactly blame them for doing their due diligence, he very much wanted them all off of his bridge. It was too cramped to have twenty people all attempting to run analyses on it's every system, sub-system and process. The sensors were a particular source for concern for the dozen odd engineers pouring over it's mechanisms and fail-safes like their lives depended on it. Those sensors were going to give them their first close look at P4A-229. They were the machines that would determine if this planet was truly the home that humanity's last remnant sought; or if it nothing more than a forlorn attempt at ending their isolation among the stars.

He tried to block their voices out, focusing on what lay in front of him. He cast his eyes over the expanse of glass that dominated the front of the cockpit, his gaze tracing over the holographic displays that littered the window. All he saw beyond it were the titanic bay doors of the Vitae; soon, however, he would be met with the endless sea of black that they would sail upon to reach their fated destination. There were smaller consoles attached to his command chair's armrests that lay just above the Nyx's side stick controller and throttle that could be programmed to serve any number of functions. At the moment his engineering officer, Reyes, had the screens connected to Command and Control. They were waiting on the go-ahead from Locke before they could launch.

Almost as if on cue, the sound of the gargantuan gateway opening up in front of them roared out. It was joined by the moaning warning klaxons of the hangar bay, and the rasp of air being drained from the massive room. The Nyx was too large to be stored in the main hangar with all of the smaller escort vessels, so it had it's own dedicated sub-bay. While they took the final steps toward launch, Elijah's attention was drawn away from the hangar and toward Reyes.

"Incoming call from C&C." Reyes informed him.

Ross nodded, looking over toward the hologram projector just as Admiral Locke appeared. The admiral's comically small head hovered over the projector like that of a disembodied ghost. As Elijah had come to expect, the man didn't have a great deal to say; a brief reminder to stay in contact and to keep his men safe. William had never been one for grand speeches and pompous showmanship- Ross was thankful for that. He couldn't imagine how impossibly irritating it would be to be kept in this accursed hangar while the admiral droned on about 'the fate of humanity' and other such nonsense. Locke said what had to be said, and gave them the order to launch.

"Will do, sir. You can count on us." Ross briefly debated whether or not to add in a final, friendly jab, but decided against it; he had to remain professional, even if he was, admittedly, a little giddy. This was their first away mission in the five years since they'd left their home solar system behind.

Elijah wasn't the only one that was excited, either. He could practically feel the electricity in the air as the auxiliary crew finished the final checks behind him. He turned around in his seat, watching as the technicians and engineers hesitated to leave. Their eyes were cast out the bridge's main window.

Ross wasn't having any of that.

"Clear the bridge!" He snapped. "I'm trying to fly four hundred thousand tons of metal here, I don't need you distracting me." Even as the first three words left his mouth, the gaggle of workers had already started to make for the exit in record time. Ross waited until the last of them had thrown the door shut behind him before he turned back around, facing the unimpeded expanse of space for the first time in what felt like forever.

He felt an inkling of that same rush of emotion that had hit him the first time he sat down in the pilot's seat all those decades ago. Ross was overcome with eagerness and nearly crippled with terror in the same instance. Elijah had grown numb to the dark void in time, but the discovery of P4A-229 had caused them all to come rushing back to him again. His tongue lashed against his lips as he reached down and planted his respirator over his aging face. Air rushed into his lungs in the same moment he took hold of the controls, ushering the Nyx forward.

They entered space with the smoothness and ease of a paper boat gliding across the water. Almost as soon as he'd gotten them out of the Vitae, someone else wanted his attention.

"Captain Lopez in the passenger bay is calling up, sir." Reyes informed his commander dutifully. "All systems are green as well. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Thank you, Reyes." Ross flicked on his communicator. There was no holographic display this time; rather, the projector sent up a caller ID on the marine, displaying his name and rank beside a static image of his face. Lopez was eager to know when they'd arrive to P4A-229. Ross couldn't blame him. They all wanted to set their eyes on it as soon as possible.

"I'll have that information for you in a moment, captain." Elijah turned toward his navigation officer, Baines. "Do you have an ETA for us?"

Baines's fingers pranced across her console with practiced precision and grace as she uploaded their destination from the Vitae's navigation system to the Nyx's own. "We'll need to get a safe distance from the ark before we can activate our jump drive. Then we just have to wait for her to charge." Baines's voice was picked up by the commander's comm system, playing for Lopez so that he'd hear the answer as well. "Computer calculates around forty five minutes."

"Hope you brought a deck of cards, captain." Elijah grinned. "This'll take a little while."

- Squad 914: Beyond - Rebooted

---

Yosef Kaganavich

_{Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted....}

---

For a brief moment, panic filled Kaganavich's chest when the stranger raised his fists- surely he didn't intend to strike Yosef?!

He hadn't the time to react before the tall man, realizing there was no danger, lowered his hands. Confusion was printed upon Yosef's face, his gaze tracing over the nervous features of his opposite. 'What in world..?' He wondered silently, trying his best to keep his misgivings from showing on his expression. He hadn't a clue why Victor would react so defensively. Easily frightened, is he?'

Thankfully the silence hung not long between them with the easily frightened and awkward soldier offering a grin and a hand for Yosef to shake. There was great strength in his grip, the Hebrew noted.

"Bah, no apology needed." Yosef waved it off, returning the grin with one of his own- wide and deep as the Red Sea. A mirthfulness played in his eyes and in his voice; the stranger's queer attitude gave Yosef no shortage of amusement. "I can understand it. I'm quite frightening!" He laughed, his hands falling down to rest on his hips as he continued with what he meant to say when he approached earlier.

Victor's size was quite intimidating at a glance, but it only took him opening his mouth for all of that to fall away. He was as nervous as a deer and jumpy as a rabbit. Perhaps it is the unfamiliar that frightens him. Yosef tried to pick it apart, attempting to understand it as best he could. I could not blame him. All of this...if I were not so excited, I'd be terrified.

Introductions were exchanged, and he was able to hear what another of his North-born comrades thought of this exotic land they'd traveled so far to get to. 'Victor...' It was not an uncommon name, and it confirmed Yosef's belief that this man had the Motherland flowing through his veins. While it would be awfully hypocritical of him to treat others of odd origins poorly, Yosef could not deny that he found more comfort in the familiar. At least he knew that Victor would understand him when he spoke! In a place as strange and far from home as Asia, he believed it important to embrace what he knew. And Victor reminded him of home in more ways than one.

Yosef's smile faltered at the mention of his home.

He was not given long to dwell on it, however, for Victor spoke up once more. Yet he did not address Yosef, as he expected; his words were pointed toward a woman wandering about not far from them. She looked awfully bored, finding conversation between her boot and the dirt rather than with any of the surrounding groups that had started to form.

Yosef was curious as to why Victor called out to her so. His words were innocent and friendly, yet it was his intentions that Yosef dwelt on. Silently he observed, hearing what each had to say and guessing at the meaning weaved in between them. Interestingly, the woman- Milena- responded first not to the content of Victor's greeting, but the phrasing. She took issue with his polite use of ma'am.

'Too formal for her, perhaps?' He wondered to himself, his own curious smile playing at the edges of his lips. 'She'd rather he use her name. To be more familiar; looking for friends and not comrades, I would wager.'

In Kaganavich's experience, people were a lot like machines. On the surface they were smooth, lacking many complicated parts. Easily understood by one who's familiarity with them was only in passing. That was a radio. This, an engine. Yet inside was a whole host of new and difficult to understand parts. Even in two separate engines everything could be entirely different; it was much the same with people. Everyone was made up differently within. Yosef had always loved taking things apart and trying to understand them. It was much the same with people.

His chance to observe was cut short when Milena turned and addressed him as well. Yosef's smile widened as he snapped back into the present. "Oh, much the same as everyone else, I'd guess. Terribly hot and tired." The Hebrew chuckled. He offered a hand to her, much the same as Victor had. "I am Yosef. A pleasure." He nodded emphatically, motioning with his palm toward the giant standing to his side. "And this here is Victor." He added, noticing that Victor hadn't given his own name quite yet, despite how eager he'd seemed to speak to Milena. Yosef had a feeling that he might know why, but he'd save his teasing for when he and his new friend were alone.

Milena went on to ask the lumbering titan about his prior...accident. She wished to know if he'd managed to injure himself on the door- it turned out that she was a medic! That caught Kaganavich's attention, his brow shooting up at the sight of her going to examine Victor's very...very large head. "Ah, so you're where I'll be getting my bandages from! Excellent!" Yosef didn't exactly have the steadiest hands, and working with things that could burn, electrocute and cut him if he slipped up...he tended to need a lot of bandages.

She was rather quick to point that out. He noted as he took a step to the side to get a better look at what Milena might be doing to their new mutual friend. Overly worried about his well-being? Or looking to prove herself? Kaganavich rarely received satisfactory answers to the unending questions he asked himself. It was more of a game to keep his mind ever occupied than any concrete analysis; Lord knows he'd proven to be wrong about many a person's supposed character before.

"We're much the same, then. Though I'm more a medic of rifles and radios." Yosef joked. "I wouldn't trust myself with fixing a person in a thousand years."

Though there was always more to say, and always more to see, time marched ever onward. They had a schedule to uphold and the officers with their obnoxious, shrill whistles knew it; the soldiers were called to return to the train so that they might continue on. "Ah. It is farewell then, at least for now. I'll see you both later- shalom, comrades!" Off Yosef went, joining the hordes in returning to their cars to prepare for the long journey that lay ahead. He had much to think on, though that was always the case. Yosef's mind was never quiet. Never satisfied.

They came upon their destination in the dead of night. Deeper into India, though the location wasn't know to Yosef as he dragged his heavy head up from the window. He'd done his best not to doze off earlier in the trip, knowing he'd have to sleep in an unfamiliar cot when they eventually arrived. Yet with the hours ticking by and no one to speak to, Kaganavich had caved, falling into a dreamless sleep.

He took his bag of meager belongings up, tossing it over his shoulder as he joined the masses. They departed the train, entering the warm night air for the first night of many more to come. Yosef looked around the crowd for Victor or Milena, hoping to speak further; yet he wasn't given time as he was pushed and pointed toward a large tent and ordered to get some rest. You don't need to tell me twice. He smiled to himself drowsily, marching toward the tent until he could collapse into some bug ridden, dirty bunk. Exhaustion would quickly take him, hopefully; Yosef did not envy those that spent the train ride resting.

Superboy's Shitty Characters

---

Yosef Kaganavich

_{Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted....}

---

For a brief moment, panic filled Kaganavich's chest when the stranger raised his fists- surely he didn't intend to strike Yosef?!

He hadn't the time to react before the tall man, realizing there was no danger, lowered his hands. Confusion was printed upon Yosef's face, his gaze tracing over the nervous features of his opposite. 'What in world..?' He wondered silently, trying his best to keep his misgivings from showing on his expression. He hadn't a clue why Victor would react so defensively. Easily frightened, is he?'

Thankfully the silence hung not long between them with the easily frightened and awkward soldier offering a grin and a hand for Yosef to shake. There was great strength in his grip, the Hebrew noted.

"Bah, no apology needed." Yosef waved it off, returning the grin with one of his own- wide and deep as the Red Sea. A mirthfulness played in his eyes and in his voice; the stranger's queer attitude gave Yosef no shortage of amusement. "I can understand it. I'm quite frightening!" He laughed, his hands falling down to rest on his hips as he continued with what he meant to say when he approached earlier.

Victor's size was quite intimidating at a glance, but it only took him opening his mouth for all of that to fall away. He was as nervous as a deer and jumpy as a rabbit. Perhaps it is the unfamiliar that frightens him. Yosef tried to pick it apart, attempting to understand it as best he could. I could not blame him. All of this...if I were not so excited, I'd be terrified.

Introductions were exchanged, and he was able to hear what another of his North-born comrades thought of this exotic land they'd traveled so far to get to. 'Victor...' It was not an uncommon name, and it confirmed Yosef's belief that this man had the Motherland flowing through his veins. While it would be awfully hypocritical of him to treat others of odd origins poorly, Yosef could not deny that he found more comfort in the familiar. At least he knew that Victor would understand him when he spoke! In a place as strange and far from home as Asia, he believed it important to embrace what he knew. And Victor reminded him of home in more ways than one.

Yosef's smile faltered at the mention of his home.

He was not given long to dwell on it, however, for Victor spoke up once more. Yet he did not address Yosef, as he expected; his words were pointed toward a woman wandering about not far from them. She looked awfully bored, finding conversation between her boot and the dirt rather than with any of the surrounding groups that had started to form.

Yosef was curious as to why Victor called out to her so. His words were innocent and friendly, yet it was his intentions that Yosef dwelt on. Silently he observed, hearing what each had to say and guessing at the meaning weaved in between them. Interestingly, the woman- Milena- responded first not to the content of Victor's greeting, but the phrasing. She took issue with his polite use of ma'am.

'Too formal for her, perhaps?' He wondered to himself, his own curious smile playing at the edges of his lips. 'She'd rather he use her name. To be more familiar; looking for friends and not comrades, I would wager.'

In Kaganavich's experience, people were a lot like machines. On the surface they were smooth, lacking many complicated parts. Easily understood by one who's familiarity with them was only in passing. That was a radio. This, an engine. Yet inside was a whole host of new and difficult to understand parts. Even in two separate engines everything could be entirely different; it was much the same with people. Everyone was made up differently within. Yosef had always loved taking things apart and trying to understand them. It was much the same with people.

His chance to observe was cut short when Milena turned and addressed him as well. Yosef's smile widened as he snapped back into the present. "Oh, much the same as everyone else, I'd guess. Terribly hot and tired." The Hebrew chuckled. He offered a hand to her, much the same as Victor had. "I am Yosef. A pleasure." He nodded emphatically, motioning with his palm toward the giant standing to his side. "And this here is Victor." He added, noticing that Victor hadn't given his own name quite yet, despite how eager he'd seemed to speak to Milena. Yosef had a feeling that he might know why, but he'd save his teasing for when he and his new friend were alone.

Milena went on to ask the lumbering titan about his prior...accident. She wished to know if he'd managed to injure himself on the door- it turned out that she was a medic! That caught Kaganavich's attention, his brow shooting up at the sight of her going to examine Victor's very...very large head. "Ah, so you're where I'll be getting my bandages from! Excellent!" Yosef didn't exactly have the steadiest hands, and working with things that could burn, electrocute and cut him if he slipped up...he tended to need a lot of bandages.

She was rather quick to point that out. He noted as he took a step to the side to get a better look at what Milena might be doing to their new mutual friend. Overly worried about his well-being? Or looking to prove herself? Kaganavich rarely received satisfactory answers to the unending questions he asked himself. It was more of a game to keep his mind ever occupied than any concrete analysis; Lord knows he'd proven to be wrong about many a person's supposed character before.

"We're much the same, then. Though I'm more a medic of rifles and radios." Yosef joked. "I wouldn't trust myself with fixing a person in a thousand years."

Though there was always more to say, and always more to see, time marched ever onward. They had a schedule to uphold and the officers with their obnoxious, shrill whistles knew it; the soldiers were called to return to the train so that they might continue on. "Ah. It is farewell then, at least for now. I'll see you both later- shalom, comrades!" Off Yosef went, joining the hordes in returning to their cars to prepare for the long journey that lay ahead. He had much to think on, though that was always the case. Yosef's mind was never quiet. Never satisfied.

They came upon their destination in the dead of night. Deeper into India, though the location wasn't know to Yosef as he dragged his heavy head up from the window. He'd done his best not to doze off earlier in the trip, knowing he'd have to sleep in an unfamiliar cot when they eventually arrived. Yet with the hours ticking by and no one to speak to, Kaganavich had caved, falling into a dreamless sleep.

He took his bag of meager belongings up, tossing it over his shoulder as he joined the masses. They departed the train, entering the warm night air for the first night of many more to come. Yosef looked around the crowd for Victor or Milena, hoping to speak further; yet he wasn't given time as he was pushed and pointed toward a large tent and ordered to get some rest. You don't need to tell me twice. He smiled to himself drowsily, marching toward the tent until he could collapse into some bug ridden, dirty bunk. Exhaustion would quickly take him, hopefully; Yosef did not envy those that spent the train ride resting.

Battletech: Anabasis

Water was flung in every direction with each step the titanic machines took. The river churned and bubble as continual laser fire caused the surface to boil. Rockets screeched through the air, dirt on the walls of the channel being knocked loose by the sheer force of the flying projectiles. An explosion rocked the already damaged Wolfhound mech, flames washing over the cockpit like the bellowed fury of hell. In response, the hound puffed out it's chest, great beams of light bursting forth from the trio of cannons positioned there. The Panther and the Wolf stared one another down with unflinching valor. They loosed blow after blow upon one another, tearing at armor and turning their surroundings into slag.

Han Bjornson's teeth clenched tightly together, his hands wrapped about the sweat-soaked controls of his mech. That mechwarrior, so young and brash, carried a grim look of determination upon his face. He had never faced down an opponent like this one before. Back at the Nagelring he had only sparred with students as inexperienced as himself. Han believed he was fighting the best of the best then. The Commonwealth's academy had to field the best; that was it's reputation. Yet here Han sat, staring down a warrior that fought less like a man and more like a beast.

The Panther's pilot pushed his machine ever forward, never slowing or faltering in his charge. Han was on the back foot, trying to remain at maximum range to avoid the punishing barrages of missile fire coming from his foe's SRMs. The Wolfhound was an incredibly quick machine, far faster than the Panther that stood opposed to it. Under normal circumstances, Han could've ran circles around this guy. Yet he had foolishly charged into the river channel, where his hound's speed was robbed by the rushing waters that clung around it's heavy legs. The Panther had no such troubles; it's jumpjets allowed it to explode forth from the depths, rushing through the air and closing the distance with a flurry of rocket fire.

Every blast beat against Han's mech with a rage he could barely stand. He held as strong as he could, but it was a fight just to remain upright. Many of his own return shots went wide because Bjornson was unable to steady himself.

"Damn it..." He breathed, his chest heaving. The heat was unbearably ferocious. He could feel his shirt sticking to his chest, sweat dribbling down the contours of his face. His single heat sinks couldn't keep up with the pressure he was putting on the cabin with his own lasers. If Han didn't finish this fight quickly, or pull away, he'd end up blacking out. It was a terrifying thought, but he was forced to let it linger in the back of his mind- he could focus only on surviving.

He sunk his teeth into his lower lip hard enough for the harsh taste of iron to leak into his mouth. Han pushed forward on his controls, reversing the direction the Wolfhound was headed in. "Damn you!" He howled, though his faceless foe could not hear his words. Bjornson wondered what the pirate inside that hunk of metal was like. Was he an ugly, bloodthirsty beast? Or merely a man forced into a life as bleak as this one? Questions that would never be answered, Han knew; but ones he could not help but let pass before his mind as he let loose another volley.

His large laser and three medium lasers flew in unison. They slammed into the front of the Panther, turning it's chest into molten metal. He could see coolant liquid coalescing with the fiery steel. He'd managed to damage the heat sinks, then. Good. Perhaps his enemy would begin to feel the heat that Han was under. Bjornson felt a surge of confidence fill his heavy chest. He could tell he was doing significant damage to his foe. 'Looks like I've finally got you, cretin.' He thought, his grim frown twisting into a wicked grin.

Pride came before the fall. The PPC on the Panther's arm, though heavily damage, was still functional- Han felt his heart sink the moment he watched it charge up. There was no reaction to be had except shock when the weapon's barrel was consumed by electricity and a beam of pure, unbridled energy cut threw the air. It struck the Wolfhound's left shoulder, nearly tearing the arm from it's socket entirely. The probe embedded within the limb went haywire, sending feedback flooding into Han's cabin. He screamed in pain at the high pitched noise his damaged neurohelmet gave off. Moments later, the whole machine reacted.

The Wolfhound stumbled before falling, the large laser's barrel digging into the mud at the bottom of the river. The mech was upon it's knees, it's arm hanging precariously by a small piece of unbroken metal, but it was clear it had been made useless by the critical blast. Bjornson felt himself fall forward, the harnesses digging into his shoulders and chest. His hands, shaky and cold, reached up to throw the damaged helmet from his head. The screeching didn't stop when he'd gotten it off. He could still hear a terrible, piercing ringing bouncing around in his skull. Han covered his ears with his palms, trying to steady his breathing as he waited for the sound to stop on it's own.

While he recovered, the boy was utterly and totally vulnerable. Han knew he could lose his life at any moment.

Yet, the killing blow never came. He turned his eyes to the viewscreens, watching as the enemy Panther climbed up out of the river. Someone else had engaged it. 'Thank God.' Bjornson allowed himself a brief moment of relief amidst the terror and fear of the situation. Once his hearing had returned and the ringing was at a minimum, Han lowered his hands. He caught sight of blood on one of his gloves and his heart leapt up into his throat.

'D-did I rupture an eardrum?!' He wondered, his hand going back up to feel around that side of his head again. A sharp pain came when his covered fingers ran over his skull. A cut, likely from when he'd torn the neurohelmet off. Another sigh of relief. He'd gotten lucky. Extremely lucky. One wrong move, and...and...

'Don't.' He had to tell himself, taking in a deep breath. He couldn't have a panic attack in the middle of battle. Bjornson, as calmly as he could, bent down to retrieve the helm he'd thrown away. After making sure he wouldn't cut himself on any misplaced edges, he lowered it back over his head, letting the sounds of battle roar in his ears once more.

Information flooded his mind. He knew now that it was Mattlov that had driven the Panther away, and the captain who was now tearing it apart at range. He saw, too, that the enemy Urbanmech was down, and the Thunderbolt was taking a heavy beating. Yet...friendlies had been damaged, too. The Rifleman's signal was faint, and Wulfhart's Griffin had suffered heavy damage as well.

It was a cause for concern, but with all the bogeys either down or heavily damaged, Han figured they would be alright.

Then Mattlov called out that the Thunderbolt was getting back up.

'Shit. Shit. Shit!' Han forced his Wolfhound to rise, the gun plucked up from the depths covered in mud, drenched in water and decorated with a spattering of plants. He slowly climbed up out of the channel, his mech's broken arm hanging limply at it's side as it climbed. He appeared over the edge, finally getting a view of the greater battle that had waged in his wake. He saw now that leaving the boy alone with the Thunderbolt was a mistake. His mech had been utterly brutalized. If the enemy was able to get back on him...

"Wulfhart, get the boy out of there, now!" Han roared a warning. "That Thunderbolt will tear him to pieces!" He raised his Large Laser up, letting his own artillery loose upon the behemoth of steel and hate. Concentrated fire was their only hope of destroying it before the thing was able to get up and retaliate.

Superboy's Shitty Characters

Water was flung in every direction with each step the titanic machines took. The river churned and bubble as continual laser fire caused the surface to boil. Rockets screeched through the air, dirt on the walls of the channel being knocked loose by the sheer force of the flying projectiles. An explosion rocked the already damaged Wolfhound mech, flames washing over the cockpit like the bellowed fury of hell. In response, the hound puffed out it's chest, great beams of light bursting forth from the trio of cannons positioned there. The Panther and the Wolf stared one another down with unflinching valor. They loosed blow after blow upon one another, tearing at armor and turning their surroundings into slag.

Han Bjornson's teeth clenched tightly together, his hands wrapped about the sweat-soaked controls of his mech. That mechwarrior, so young and brash, carried a grim look of determination upon his face. He had never faced down an opponent like this one before. Back at the Nagelring he had only sparred with students as inexperienced as himself. Han believed he was fighting the best of the best then. The Commonwealth's academy had to field the best; that was it's reputation. Yet here Han sat, staring down a warrior that fought less like a man and more like a beast.

The Panther's pilot pushed his machine ever forward, never slowing or faltering in his charge. Han was on the back foot, trying to remain at maximum range to avoid the punishing barrages of missile fire coming from his foe's SRMs. The Wolfhound was an incredibly quick machine, far faster than the Panther that stood opposed to it. Under normal circumstances, Han could've ran circles around this guy. Yet he had foolishly charged into the river channel, where his hound's speed was robbed by the rushing waters that clung around it's heavy legs. The Panther had no such troubles; it's jumpjets allowed it to explode forth from the depths, rushing through the air and closing the distance with a flurry of rocket fire.

Every blast beat against Han's mech with a rage he could barely stand. He held as strong as he could, but it was a fight just to remain upright. Many of his own return shots went wide because Bjornson was unable to steady himself.

"Damn it..." He breathed, his chest heaving. The heat was unbearably ferocious. He could feel his shirt sticking to his chest, sweat dribbling down the contours of his face. His single heat sinks couldn't keep up with the pressure he was putting on the cabin with his own lasers. If Han didn't finish this fight quickly, or pull away, he'd end up blacking out. It was a terrifying thought, but he was forced to let it linger in the back of his mind- he could focus only on surviving.

He sunk his teeth into his lower lip hard enough for the harsh taste of iron to leak into his mouth. Han pushed forward on his controls, reversing the direction the Wolfhound was headed in. "Damn you!" He howled, though his faceless foe could not hear his words. Bjornson wondered what the pirate inside that hunk of metal was like. Was he an ugly, bloodthirsty beast? Or merely a man forced into a life as bleak as this one? Questions that would never be answered, Han knew; but ones he could not help but let pass before his mind as he let loose another volley.

His large laser and three medium lasers flew in unison. They slammed into the front of the Panther, turning it's chest into molten metal. He could see coolant liquid coalescing with the fiery steel. He'd managed to damage the heat sinks, then. Good. Perhaps his enemy would begin to feel the heat that Han was under. Bjornson felt a surge of confidence fill his heavy chest. He could tell he was doing significant damage to his foe. 'Looks like I've finally got you, cretin.' He thought, his grim frown twisting into a wicked grin.

Pride came before the fall. The PPC on the Panther's arm, though heavily damage, was still functional- Han felt his heart sink the moment he watched it charge up. There was no reaction to be had except shock when the weapon's barrel was consumed by electricity and a beam of pure, unbridled energy cut threw the air. It struck the Wolfhound's left shoulder, nearly tearing the arm from it's socket entirely. The probe embedded within the limb went haywire, sending feedback flooding into Han's cabin. He screamed in pain at the high pitched noise his damaged neurohelmet gave off. Moments later, the whole machine reacted.

The Wolfhound stumbled before falling, the large laser's barrel digging into the mud at the bottom of the river. The mech was upon it's knees, it's arm hanging precariously by a small piece of unbroken metal, but it was clear it had been made useless by the critical blast. Bjornson felt himself fall forward, the harnesses digging into his shoulders and chest. His hands, shaky and cold, reached up to throw the damaged helmet from his head. The screeching didn't stop when he'd gotten it off. He could still hear a terrible, piercing ringing bouncing around in his skull. Han covered his ears with his palms, trying to steady his breathing as he waited for the sound to stop on it's own.

While he recovered, the boy was utterly and totally vulnerable. Han knew he could lose his life at any moment.

Yet, the killing blow never came. He turned his eyes to the viewscreens, watching as the enemy Panther climbed up out of the river. Someone else had engaged it. 'Thank God.' Bjornson allowed himself a brief moment of relief amidst the terror and fear of the situation. Once his hearing had returned and the ringing was at a minimum, Han lowered his hands. He caught sight of blood on one of his gloves and his heart leapt up into his throat.

'D-did I rupture an eardrum?!' He wondered, his hand going back up to feel around that side of his head again. A sharp pain came when his covered fingers ran over his skull. A cut, likely from when he'd torn the neurohelmet off. Another sigh of relief. He'd gotten lucky. Extremely lucky. One wrong move, and...and...

'Don't.' He had to tell himself, taking in a deep breath. He couldn't have a panic attack in the middle of battle. Bjornson, as calmly as he could, bent down to retrieve the helm he'd thrown away. After making sure he wouldn't cut himself on any misplaced edges, he lowered it back over his head, letting the sounds of battle roar in his ears once more.

Information flooded his mind. He knew now that it was Mattlov that had driven the Panther away, and the captain who was now tearing it apart at range. He saw, too, that the enemy Urbanmech was down, and the Thunderbolt was taking a heavy beating. Yet...friendlies had been damaged, too. The Rifleman's signal was faint, and Wulfhart's Griffin had suffered heavy damage as well.

It was a cause for concern, but with all the bogeys either down or heavily damaged, Han figured they would be alright.

Then Mattlov called out that the Thunderbolt was getting back up.

'Shit. Shit. Shit!' Han forced his Wolfhound to rise, the gun plucked up from the depths covered in mud, drenched in water and decorated with a spattering of plants. He slowly climbed up out of the channel, his mech's broken arm hanging limply at it's side as it climbed. He appeared over the edge, finally getting a view of the greater battle that had waged in his wake. He saw now that leaving the boy alone with the Thunderbolt was a mistake. His mech had been utterly brutalized. If the enemy was able to get back on him...

"Wulfhart, get the boy out of there, now!" Han roared a warning. "That Thunderbolt will tear him to pieces!" He raised his Large Laser up, letting his own artillery loose upon the behemoth of steel and hate. Concentrated fire was their only hope of destroying it before the thing was able to get up and retaliate.

- Squad 914: Beyond - Rebooted

---

Yosef Kaganavich

_{Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted....}

---

Sweat gathered at Yosef's brow. No matter how many times he would reach up to wipe it away, more would inevitably form. The humidity here was slowly draining all life from his body. Yosef Kaganavich was not accustomed to the heat. To try and compare the summers of Moscow to those here in India is to compare a campfire to a raging inferno. He had already rolled up the sleeves of his drab uniform and loosened the top few buttons, but it was yet not enough; Kaganavich wondered if he might catch fire if he stepped out into the bare sun for more than a few seconds.

"Why you would ever make any place so hot, I will never know." Yosef lamented quietly, a wry smile creeping over his hairy face. "Truly mysterious are your ways!"

Despite the unbearable heat, it wasn't all bad. This place was one of unimaginable beauty- like nothing Yosef had ever laid his eyes upon. Rolling hills of pure, unbroken green framed great swathes of towering trees. It was as if Yosef had stepped into another world entirely when the train passed through one of the Raj's cities. He tried to remember the details as best he could so that, when given the chance, he could paint a picture in a letter sent back to his mother and sister.

Dinah would've loved this place. She had more of a stomach for adventure than Yosef ever did. He could vividly imagine her dragging him by the hand from market stall to market stall, forcing him to eat strange foods who's names he could barely pronounce. Father would disapprove, of course- he'd worry that anything and everything served in a strange land would be non-kosher.

Yosef felt his heart ache. It was like a dagger driven straight through his chest; a burning, sharp pain that made the corners of his mouth fall heavy. He missed them all so dearly. He hadn't seen papa in nearly six years. The mail carrier had stopped bringing his letters ten months ago. It...had not been easy for Kaganavich without the guiding hand of Abram, but he'd managed to survive. He had focused on taking care of his family, and fulfilling the duty that his father left him. That, combined with the backbreaking work at the factory, had kept Yosef's mind occupied.

Things were different now. His brothers had been plucked up and forced to fight, and Yosef had been separated from his sister and mother. It had not been long since the fall of Moscow, and even less time had passed since he was forced to leave behind Dinah and Miriam, yet the impact was all the harsher. Yosef had no one to turn to anymore. No comfort to be found in the embrace of his momma- no duty in protecting his brothers and sister from the harshness of the world. He could not turn to his father for guidance.

For the first time in his life, Yosef was truly alone. He was alone and trapped on the other side of the world, so very far from home.

Then train came to a screeching halt, the shouts of officers and conscripts tearing him from his bleak thoughts. Yosef shook his head and wiped at his brow once more, rising from where he sat. He needed to get out and stretch his legs. Perhaps he could find something to do to distract himself from the burden of his own mind.

He descended from the train car, his boots smacking hard against the ground. It felt good to move on solid ground- Yosef had never been one for trains. He always felt a little sick whenever he spent too much time in one. The young man turned his gaze about the 'platform', eyeing the strangers gathered there. These were his fellow soldiers. Warriors of this 'Project' he had been assigned to. They were...an odd assortment, to be sure. They came from all over the world, with appearances and backgrounds as wide and varied as the flora he'd seen as they passed through the countryside. Many of those from Asian countries were almost alien to him- though Moscow was a large city full of all kinds of people, Yosef had never met someone from China or beyond. This would be a new experience for him.

It was equally exciting as it was frightening. The nervous recruit glanced from side to side, his hands clasping at the pockets on his trousers as he wondered how he might introduce himself to his fellows. He almost wished he had been called to help move the coal instead of being left to his own devices.

His standing about with that worried look on his face didn't last long, however, as he turned just in time to watch a particularly tall man slam his forehead against the top of the train door. Yosef couldn't help the smile that broke across his face. It reminded him of Elisha- always the clumsy sort who never looked where he was going. It was a reminder that set his heart at ease. He had to remember that these soldiers around him, despite their gruff appearances, were people all the same- they were to be his comrades in arms, so...it'd be best if he got to know them well. Perhaps he might find friends among them to fill the void in his heart.

Taking a few steps forward, Yosef approached the tall stranger. "This place is something else." He started, noticing how engrossed the man was with their surroundings. It was likely better to just ignore the man's earlier blunder, even if that was what brought Yosef over to him in the first place. "I didn't know the world could be so vibrant!" He brought a hand forward, offering it to the stranger. "I am Yosef. It is good to meet you."

Superboy's Shitty Characters

---

Yosef Kaganavich

_{Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted....}

---

Sweat gathered at Yosef's brow. No matter how many times he would reach up to wipe it away, more would inevitably form. The humidity here was slowly draining all life from his body. Yosef Kaganavich was not accustomed to the heat. To try and compare the summers of Moscow to those here in India is to compare a campfire to a raging inferno. He had already rolled up the sleeves of his drab uniform and loosened the top few buttons, but it was yet not enough; Kaganavich wondered if he might catch fire if he stepped out into the bare sun for more than a few seconds.

"Why you would ever make any place so hot, I will never know." Yosef lamented quietly, a wry smile creeping over his hairy face. "Truly mysterious are your ways!"

Despite the unbearable heat, it wasn't all bad. This place was one of unimaginable beauty- like nothing Yosef had ever laid his eyes upon. Rolling hills of pure, unbroken green framed great swathes of towering trees. It was as if Yosef had stepped into another world entirely when the train passed through one of the Raj's cities. He tried to remember the details as best he could so that, when given the chance, he could paint a picture in a letter sent back to his mother and sister.

Dinah would've loved this place. She had more of a stomach for adventure than Yosef ever did. He could vividly imagine her dragging him by the hand from market stall to market stall, forcing him to eat strange foods who's names he could barely pronounce. Father would disapprove, of course- he'd worry that anything and everything served in a strange land would be non-kosher.

Yosef felt his heart ache. It was like a dagger driven straight through his chest; a burning, sharp pain that made the corners of his mouth fall heavy. He missed them all so dearly. He hadn't seen papa in nearly six years. The mail carrier had stopped bringing his letters ten months ago. It...had not been easy for Kaganavich without the guiding hand of Abram, but he'd managed to survive. He had focused on taking care of his family, and fulfilling the duty that his father left him. That, combined with the backbreaking work at the factory, had kept Yosef's mind occupied.

Things were different now. His brothers had been plucked up and forced to fight, and Yosef had been separated from his sister and mother. It had not been long since the fall of Moscow, and even less time had passed since he was forced to leave behind Dinah and Miriam, yet the impact was all the harsher. Yosef had no one to turn to anymore. No comfort to be found in the embrace of his momma- no duty in protecting his brothers and sister from the harshness of the world. He could not turn to his father for guidance.

For the first time in his life, Yosef was truly alone. He was alone and trapped on the other side of the world, so very far from home.

Then train came to a screeching halt, the shouts of officers and conscripts tearing him from his bleak thoughts. Yosef shook his head and wiped at his brow once more, rising from where he sat. He needed to get out and stretch his legs. Perhaps he could find something to do to distract himself from the burden of his own mind.

He descended from the train car, his boots smacking hard against the ground. It felt good to move on solid ground- Yosef had never been one for trains. He always felt a little sick whenever he spent too much time in one. The young man turned his gaze about the 'platform', eyeing the strangers gathered there. These were his fellow soldiers. Warriors of this 'Project' he had been assigned to. They were...an odd assortment, to be sure. They came from all over the world, with appearances and backgrounds as wide and varied as the flora he'd seen as they passed through the countryside. Many of those from Asian countries were almost alien to him- though Moscow was a large city full of all kinds of people, Yosef had never met someone from China or beyond. This would be a new experience for him.

It was equally exciting as it was frightening. The nervous recruit glanced from side to side, his hands clasping at the pockets on his trousers as he wondered how he might introduce himself to his fellows. He almost wished he had been called to help move the coal instead of being left to his own devices.

His standing about with that worried look on his face didn't last long, however, as he turned just in time to watch a particularly tall man slam his forehead against the top of the train door. Yosef couldn't help the smile that broke across his face. It reminded him of Elisha- always the clumsy sort who never looked where he was going. It was a reminder that set his heart at ease. He had to remember that these soldiers around him, despite their gruff appearances, were people all the same- they were to be his comrades in arms, so...it'd be best if he got to know them well. Perhaps he might find friends among them to fill the void in his heart.

Taking a few steps forward, Yosef approached the tall stranger. "This place is something else." He started, noticing how engrossed the man was with their surroundings. It was likely better to just ignore the man's earlier blunder, even if that was what brought Yosef over to him in the first place. "I didn't know the world could be so vibrant!" He brought a hand forward, offering it to the stranger. "I am Yosef. It is good to meet you."

Sticks And Stones [Post-Apoc/High Fantasy Hybrid]

While we're all underway, feel free to interact a bit with each other. It's good to get to know your companions so you know each other's names when you're being horribly slaughtered by otherworldly abominations adventuring together.

What role do you like to play in fellowship/party RPs?

@Inkarnate He's an eloquent guy, truly.

What role do you like to play in fellowship/party RPs?

Me tank.

Me hard head.

ME SMASH.