Futuristic THE LAST SHIELD

[Coin]

​

January 12th, 2035
Battle of Tokyo
Shinjuku PASEL-EUNATOCA Defensive Line

Second Lieutenant Sabrina “Jester” Vidal knew this was a bad idea. No, it was an awful idea. Escaping into the subway network was suicide, even if they had been expanded to allow the passage of ETAs underground, they were nowhere near tall enough for evasive maneuvers.

She had no choice in the matter, though. The hair-brained idea to shelter in an underground tomb fell upon their recently and dearly departed commanding officer. His remains lay on the tracks several hundred meters behind them now, his machine and body broken beyond recognition. Damn bastard deserved it. He had gotten their squadron killed.

The entire squadron was gone, save for Jester. She was still very much alive. Her T-1’s battle cannon had been long discarded, exchanged for the autocannon left behind by their anti-swarm gunner in one mechanized hand, and her ETA’s tactical dagger in the other. Claw and teeth marks scored her machine’s hull, but the flight system had yet to be damaged. There was still a chance she’d make it out of this. If she could just get up the staircase and onto the surface, then she could…

Well, she’d cross that bridge when she got there. She’d only just arrived at the staircase she'd been speeding towards, and in that time the way out above her was now flooded with dozens of Warrior-types. Flailing limbs and snapping maws all came crashing down the staircase towards her.

“Damn, would you just give me a break?!” Jester cursed to herself as she leveled the autocannon at the surge of bodies and squeezed the trigger. 30mm autocannon rounds thudded out, streaking golden tracers in the dimness of the stair hallway. The collision of each shell was a supernova of shrapnel and a flash of blinding light as they detonated against the swarm of Warriors. Sinew-y flesh and carbon-ferrite bones splintered as she began to blast a path through them.

Dozens more Starfallen filled their place as they died, but it was still less to chew through than the hundreds that were gaining behind her. The autocannon’s ammunition display read 300, 250, then 200. She had to get up these stairs faster. If she didn't, the Starfallen from the tunnel would catch up and overwhelm her. That said, there was no way she’d have enough ammunition to cut through the horde on the stairs before she reached the top.

No time to think about that. 150, 100, 50. Jester grit her teeth as she slowed her bursts, ensuring each shell found a mark on target. She climbed several steps at a time. 30, 20, 10, 0.

Beeeeeep.

A red warning klaxon blared as her autocannon ran dry. The barrel was still red hot as she chucked it down the staircase behind her, colliding with the pack of Warriors that had begun to surge from the rear flank. It slowed them briefly, enough for Jester to get into a fighting position with the tactical dagger. A cry of fury and desperation filled her cockpit. Every slash and stab met resistance. She chopped as she climbed, but it was futile -- there were too many of them.

“Come on! Almost…!” She shouted to no one in particular. Who would be listening, anyway?

Jester had made it about three quarters of the way up the staircase before the horde from behind her had caught up. Grappling limbs tore at her ETA’s legs, dragging it to the ground. Jester screamed as her machine was brought low. The monitors around her were nothing but writhing masses of limbs and teeth with the occasional ray of sunlight shining through. Her stomach dropped; it was so cruel, she had almost made it up to the surface.

Metal groaned, buckled, and started to give away around her. The roars and screech of Starfallen reverberated through the armored capsule of her cockpit. Still, she tried to will her machine to move, slamming the controls in despair. It was no good, the Warriors had her completely pinned.

She pressed her hand to the view screens in front of her. She didn’t want to see anymore. She tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat, and just managed to whimper under her breath.

“It's not fair.”

2LT S. Vidal
“Jester”
EUNATOCA 113th Tactical Armored Division
KIA, Battle of Tokyo

---

SECURITY CLEARANCE PENDING . . .
>> APPROVED
>> ACCESSING RECORD DATABASE

United Nation Unified Command
To Preserve Mankind

FINAL BLACK BOX RECORDING SAVED . . .
RECORD 33,104 ADDED TO DATABASE . . .
>> DISPLAYING RECORD LIBRARY

> Record 33,104 [2LT S. Vidal]: “It's not fair.”

Record 33,103 [CWO2 F. Maplewood]: “No, this can’t be! Mother!”
Record 33,102 [1LT Z. Ryzhova]: “We better find a new position before we’re surrounded.”
Record 33,101 [1LT M. Amin]: <In Arabic> “I rely on God!”
Record 33,100 [WO1 E. Carsson]: “Oh shit! What’s that?”
Record 33,099: [2LT V. Chase]: No record found.
Record 33,098 [CAPT E. Minh]: <In Chinese> “Lost number one, number two. Ditching!”
Record 33,097 [CWO2 B. Anderson]: “Lord God, give-”
Record 33,096 [WO1 P. Young] No record found.
Record 33,095 [2LT S. Kim] <In Korean> “I’ll kill you all!
Record 33,094 [1LT M. Sanders] “What’s that noise?!”
Record 33,093 [1LT L. Wagner] No record found.
Record 33,092 [CAPT K. Smirnova] “Evading!”
Record 33,091 [CWO3 N. Perez] “Jay, I love you.”

Page 2,206 of 2,206

---

October 12th, 2037
ARES Program Day 1
Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base
~200km South of Sydney, Australia
Special Tactical Armor School

Seven days. The most recent pool of ARES Program candidates were given seven days to show functional adaptability to the Shell augmentation grafted upon them, or be deferred to next year’s program. This was the last, and most painful of the gauntlet of surgeries that candidates were expected to undergo to become an ARES pilot.

The surgery itself carried a low, but non-zero fatality rate. However the recovery process was described as agonizing for the first couple days, and only moderately uncomfortable for a week after that. The worst off were the candidates that suffered a Total Rejection of the Shell, something that left them with near or full-body paralysis.

These risks were paltry prices to pay for the benefits, however. This technology would allow the user to directly interface with their ETA, providing a neurological bridge between man and machine. Though the total number of ARES pilots only numbered in the few hundreds with this most recent batch, the average combat proficiency of each pilot who was able to adapt to the Shell improved by an average of 34%.

Yesterday was the last day of recovery for the pilots that still remained after the surgery. Today was their first day of instruction. At precisely 0400 hours, each cadet was delivered the itinerary for the day. For Class 2037F, it read as follows:

0500 Mess Hall opens for breakfast
0900 Report to Red Hall for briefing and squadron assignment
0930 UNSIG Doctrinal Familiarization
1200 Mess Hall opens for lunch
1300 Aptitude Evaluation
1800 Debriefing
1900 Mess Hall opens for dinner

The time now? 0500. Today was also meat day at the Mess Hall. This privilege was extended from once a month for UN combat personnel, twice a month for ETA pilots, and a whopping three times a month for ARES pilots. With Class 2037F’s rotation into the program, their first day of instruction would include a meat day for the cadets.

This was no secret, as at 0500, a small crowd of about a dozen personnel who were also assigned this breakfast rotation were granted access to the rather serve-yourself accommodation of the Mess Hall. On today’s menu was wheat pancakes, a fresh fruit bar, rice balls, smoked salmon, and breakfast sausages.

Spoiler: GM Note

Welcome to your first day of instruction, Cadet! It'll be a tough three months of training ahead of you, but at the end of this process, you'll earn your wings and join the United Nations Strategic Intervention Group -- the best of the best. Best not to think that far ahead. Looks like it's a long day ahead of you. Better get some chow in.

This scene will serve as a sort of waiting room while everyone finalizes their pilots. When the pilot registration closes in about a week, we'll move onto the next scene. Remember, no post orders. Post to your heart's content!

 

[Kameron Esters-]

Moraes U. Coaling - ARES Program Day 1 - Mess Hall

Moraes's first morning at Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base felt like the start of something monumental. His body was still a battleground of pain and strange new sensations after the surgery to integrate the Shell, a sophisticated interface that was supposed to revolutionize the way he piloted his ETA. The discomfort was a dull roar in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of the price paid for potential greatness. Despite this, he was driven by a quiet resolve, a determination hardened in the fires of countless battles against the Starfallen.

As he entered the Mess Hall, Moraes was struck by the mundane normalcy of the scene before him. A handful of fellow cadets were already milling about, serving themselves from the modest spread. The aroma of smoked salmon mingled with the scent of fresh coffee in the air, a stark contrast to the sterile hospital smells that had clung to his nostrils for the past week.

Walking with the faint stiffness that was a leftover from his recent surgery, Moraes made his way to the breakfast sausages and pancakes. He loaded his plate, balancing the desire for a hearty meal to fuel the long day ahead with the need to not overindulge—the physical aptitude evaluation loomed large in his schedule.

Choosing a spot at one of the long communal tables, Moraes sat down with a slight grunt. The chair was less forgiving than the beds at the medical facility, but it was a welcome change. As he began to eat, his eyes scanned the room, taking in the faces of his fellow ARES candidates. Some looked eager, others anxious, and a few wore the same mask of stoic endurance that Moraes felt draped over his own features.

Today was not just about physical nourishment; it was also about sizing up potential allies and competitors within the program. Moraes knew the value of forming strong connections; the battlefield was no place for lone wolves, especially not when piloting multimillion-dollar war machines that were as much a target as they were a weapon.

As he ate, Moraes pondered the day’s itinerary. The doctrinal familiarization would be a slog—he had never been one for the theoretical over the practical. But it was the aptitude evaluation that truly piqued his interest. That would be where he could shine, where the instincts honed over years of combat could demonstrate their worth beyond the confines of surgery-induced enhancements.

Finishing his meal, Moraes allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation, savoring the last of his coffee as he mentally prepared for the challenges ahead. The road to becoming an ARES pilot was fraught with hurdles, but he was no stranger to adversity. If anything, he welcomed it. As the Mess Hall began to fill, Moraes's gaze turned steely. It was time to turn pain into power, to transform potential into reality.

 

[Gundam Watcher 27]

Alex Skye - ARES Program: Day 1
Status: Unhappy

Alex is sitting at a table all by herself, while some guards kept a close watch on her. Alex had a close eye kept on her since her day arriving at the base, and getting the enhancements integrated into her body. Even though she was a Wonder 9, she still was viewed by her country with fear and disgust. She sighed as she looked at her plate of food in front of her. She really didn't feel hungry.

"I need to eat to keep my strength up." She reminded herself, before the took a waffle and brought it up to her mouth. She took a large bite, before her eyes widened in surprise.
"It tastes like cardboard."
She complained to herself, before putting the waffle back on her plate. There were 2 sausage links and a portion of eggs there too, still steaming hot, but Alex just sighed and pushed the plate away. She had lost her appetite.

"She seems to not know what Maple Syrup is." One of the guards said to his partner. The other guard chuckled. "It could've been worse, she could have mistook a spoon for a fork."
Both Guards laughed hysterically, while Alex just put her head down and tried to fall asleep. She didn't need anymore hostilities.
'Maybe it would have been better if I died during the battles in Russia.' She thought, before letting out another sigh. She turned her head, her left cheek now resting on the cold surface of the table, as she watched other people have a good time, either chatting with each other or in the case of one person, just sitting by themselves, having some time to relax.

Mentions: Moraes ( Kameron Esters- )


​

 

[Zahzi]

Hannes Krieger Haber
Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base
Nearby: Kameron Esters- [Moraes] Gundam Watcher 27 [Alex]
Disposition: Bureaucratic overzight is alive unt vell....​

​

January 2nd, 2037
New Moscow::: Emergency Surgery -207
Blaring alarms and the droning of a pair of Russian doctors did little to let the broken man sleep. His breathing was labored and short. Everything felt...Off. The agonizing migraine helped localize a few things; like that his head was still there. Limbs? Anything below the heart? He couldn't feel anything else at this point.​

["...Has the Bundeskanzler been informed of the situation?"]

["No response. They were dealing with a sizable attack at the same time as us."]
​

["Nothing to be done about it then. Prepare for a lengthy operation."]

["Sir. Are we really going to waste resour-"]
​

The first doctor reached over the man, latching onto the collar of the second, yanking him inches from his face.​

[Does six million mean NOTHING to you, Lev!? No matter what us used here will be a drop in the bucket after what-]

"...Vhere..."
​

["Shit he's still awake!? Enough Akim, you win! Increase the sedatives! NOW!]
​

His vision blurred as the room darkened as the sounds began to muffle.
"Vait....Va..."
All fell silent.


_____________________________________________
September 4th 2037
Rome::: EUNATOCA Command
"Are you SURE this is what you want to do? You've already done so much. Just LOOK at you."

"I am."

The man looked from the papers on his desk to the 'man' in front of him, a puzzled look on his face.
"There is a considerable chance with your....Condition...That joining this program will be what does you in. There won't be going back once this is signed. I understand your suggestion to be included-"

"It vasn't a suggestion, Herr Commandant. It vas a demand."

____________________________________________

October 12th, 2037
Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base
​

"...No, you zeem to have an issue understanding.."
The gaunt man stood in the line of the mess hall. He wasn't even sure how he got here. He was just following the crowd. Now there was a sizable portion of food on a tray in front of him.
"What, gonna get all weepy about eatin' meat or something? I thought all you vegan types died out a year ago."
"Not ze issue at hand."
"Don't you know there are starving children in Africa who can't even GET food?"
"Give et to ZHEM, zhen!"
"That'd be a biohazard. We had a pandemic before, remember?"

The man lowered his head, shaking it for a moment, before taking hold of the tray.
"...So be et." He would leave the line with food in hand. He stopped after a few moments of walking, surveying the tables in front of him he was about to proceed to find a lone table when the voices of two laughing at another caught his attention. The blank expression he had for the scene only grew more uncanny with the odd tilt his head took as he stared down at the badge with a skull on it. His gaze looked toward another new face who seemed to be psyching themselves up for the day, and no one else seemed to notice. So be it, once again. He looked back to the two laughing and approached.

"Come now, ze day has only just begun. Zhis badgering is unbecoming of us. Cease."

​

 

[Remembrance]

AX-8 | "Eight" | Arcade
Priority: First Law
Interactions: Gundam Watcher 27 (Friend Skye}
Mentions: Zahzi (Friend Krieger) Gundam Watcher 27 (Two Jovial Friends)​

​

For 12 hours, Eight had been floating in a shallow abyss off the floor. Their feet and hands tingled, and their eyes burned. When was the last time they had spoken to a human? Eight couldn't remember what the uniformed man had said. The words bounced off the walls and rang through Eight's ears. For a moment, Eight had thought they heard something, but then their ears began to tingle just like their hands.

Eight looked at their hands, but the fire in its eyes made them blink. Ah. That's right. I can't blink.

Tears came, and when their eyes regained sight, their hands had been melted into metal abstractions that wafted in the ripples flowing over the fire in their eyes.

- - -​

Eight wandered the cafeteria space. It seemed much larger than the map suggested. Eight walked between tables, wiping each down with a towel soaked in sanitizer before dipping it into a bucket and moving on. Scraps and utensils were pushed off the table; cleaning it would be a job for later. Eight's job, in fact. There was a tinge of pain. This was not their duty, not at all. It would be done, but never appreciated.

Noise began to filter steadily into the cafeteria, it was first shift, the humans have awoken and require their sustenance. Occasionally, Eight would help as needed in preparing the mass quantities of food. However, today, the staff had forbid them from even approaching the kitchen. Why was that?

Conflict. Eight turned their head, eyes locked squarely on the disturbance. They yielded their mind to the First Law and Eight began to determine outcomes.

She is dangerous. But she is harmed. Harm is universal. Safety. Where is safety for her? Threat. What is the threat? How will it be eliminated?

Although none could see the finer depths of their eyes, it almost looked as if their attention was set squarely on the two jovial friends.

The interference of Friend Krieger was a welcome one, and yet, that variable seemed the most unpredictable.

Action must be taken.

Eight approached, bucket and towel still in hand. They passed Friend Krieger, and cut through the two laughing friends. Eight tilted their head to match her angle, and asked, "Are you well, Friend Skye?"

 

[americanCaeser]

ALFIE 'PERCIVAL' QUILLER

Mentions: Remembrance (Eight) Zahzi (Krieger) Gundam Watcher 27 (Skye) Kameron Esters- (Moraes) Coin (Everyone Else)

​

It'd be narratively poetic to describe Percival as some dark, brooding eminence that swept into the cafeteria like the Grim Reaper themselves and drawing the fearful gazes of all those that behold him. It's what most people expected from him, after all. To his credit, Percival did come across as dark and brooding to anyone who saw him. Dark black hair, sharp eyes, and a gaunt and grim face, everything an edgy guy would need to stand out. But Percival didn't stand out. Hell, he wasn't even the only brooding bastard there, so there were hardly any eyes that followed him, even if they recognized him. But unlike most of the men, women, or other who shared his demeanour, he did have this... dangerous air about him. The type of danger a quiet man has right before he snaps even if Percival looked as cool as a cucumber.

Rather, the Survivor of the Second Blitz stared emotionlessly at his food as he ate, cutting away bits of sausage as he ate and savored the texture and taste. Breakfast was on of the few times Percival allowed himself to let go and unwind. Even as the sounds of the cafeteria wafted over him, he enjoyed the fact no one had deigned to sit beside him and the peace that allowed... at least, it did.

He turned his head slightly to see a few feet away a situation was developing. A white haired woman sat at a table as two individuals chuckled cruelly behind her. A pair of cyber-augments stood between them, one who looked more masculine attempting to diplomatically insert himself and diffuse the situation, and the other trying to comfort the white haired woman. He recognized the woman as one Alex Skye, AKA 'Jailbird', a pilot from the Russian Federation who had made a name for herself. Supposedly she was working off a life sentence, hence the guards accompanying her. The other two he did not recognize, which felt odd considering their rather distinctive appearances.

That situation looked like it was well on its way to a conflict, and Percival considered moving away to avoid having his breakfast ruined-

He sighed. No, his brief zen was gone. He could feel his muscles tensing as stress reasserted itself and he turned to look around the rest of the mess hall. Many of these pilots were supposedly the best of the best. Wonder 9's, or green horns with a lot of potential, with some impressive names applied to them. Eventually, Percival made eye contact with another pilot. Dark hair, steely eyes, and arms crossed, the two briefly sized one another up before returning to their meals. Yes, Percival thought as the noise behind him grew rowdier, there were many interesting pilots here indeed.

 

[Gundam Watcher 27]

Alex Skye - ARES Program: Day 1
Status: Worried

The two guards would stop laughing, and study the person who had approached them. Guard one looked to guard two and then flashed a quick apologetic wave at Kreiger. "I'm sorry. I thought it was funny."
"It is pretty early in the morning." Guard number two replied. "We'll refrain from anymore joking around until later from now on."
Guard number one nodded in agreement before looking to Guard number two.
"Let's go grab some grub."
"Are you sure? When we have a dangerous convict to watch over?" "I'm sure she won't start harming anybody while we let her be for five minutes."
Guard number two figured it didn't sound like a bad idea, before the two guards head towards the serving station. They didn't notice the other person who had walked past them.


Alex blinked when she heard someone call her by her first name. Alex sat up to look at.... "Do I know you?" Alex asked, not remembering meeting the person talking to her. Alex noticed the guards had walked off, and she felt nervous. Alex quickly glanced at the person. "Please leave. I don't want to get in anymore trouble."

Mentions: n/a
Interactions: Eight ( Remembrance ) Krieger ( Zahzi )​

 

[Zahzi]

Hannes Krieger Haber
Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base
Nearby: Kameron Esters- [Moraes] Gundam Watcher 27 [Alex] Remembrance [8] americanCaeser [Percival]
Disposition: I'm honestly surprised zhey backed down. Maybe zhis body has perks!​

​

Krieger tilted his head once more at the looming threat of trouble, causing a mechanical click to leave him.
"Oh yes. How horrifying. Do you sink zhey vill force us to fight countless horrors until they may die?" The deadpan was borderline lethal as he decided to sit at Alex's table, setting his tray down, but not touching anything on it. Instead, he reaches into is pack and retrieved what looked like a tablet and began takking away at the screen.

"..Perhaps zhat came out incorrectly. Conzider us here to make sure you aren't dealing with unnezezary conflict, yes? Now eat up. Even if you don't feel hungry, ve have no clue vhen ze day is over." His eyes met Alex's for a split second. Were those real eyes under that headpiece?

"If you need more to eat, feel free to take from mine. I...Cannot partake." He then glanced up to the other one who had come to help the convict.
"Ah, Guten Morgen, Acht. Glad to zee you are cleared for interaction."

 

[FabulousTrash]

​

Kyo Yu-Ni | "Yongsan"
Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base - Mess Hall

Mentions: Kameron Esters-

​

Fresh from her morning workout, Yu-Ni made her way down the hallway of the naval base.

Compared to the halls of PASEL's facilities, these walls seemed... more ominous? No, not ominous. She couldn't figure out the word for it, but the atmosphere felt much more heavy here compared to back home. Maybe the weight she was feeling was the new piece of metal embedded in the back of her skull. Her hand reach back behind, feeling the device that would allow a more deeper connection with her ETA. The lengths Unified Command would go to ensure humanity's survival... .was both admiral and terrifying. But she would follow through on their vision. Because thats what soldiers did.

Yu-Ni rounded the corner, approaching the entryway to the mess hall. Her eyes were greeted to the sight of other pilots who had arrived before her. She wasted no time getting in line, grabbing a tray and her food. Rice balls, salmon and sausage. The kind of fuel they would need for their upcoming evaluation.

With her sustenance in hand, the next task was to find a place to sit. There were plenty of seats to go around, though not a lot of bodies to occupy them. Some of the pilots formed small groups, engaging in small talk. Others sat alone.

Yu-Ni didn't exactly have the energy to converse with anyone, so she elected to sit at a less-empty table. She took her seat and began eating silently. Just a few chairs over sat a dark haired man, determination painted all over his face.

 

[Remembrance]

AX-8 | "Eight" | Arcade
Priority: Second Law
Interactions: Zahzi (Friend Krieger)
Mentions: Gundam Watcher 27 (Friend Skye)​

"Thank you, Friend Krieger." Although Eight addressed their mechanical brother, he was not their master. Their attention, in accordance with the Laws, was kept locked onto the human.

How do you help a human that does not want to be helped? You cannot force a human to partake in any action, regardless of its benefit. But if it is beneficial, is not the harm incurred for the benefit of the human? No matter. The threat has been eliminated. Eight's brain returned to normalcy, no longer commandeered by the Laws. And yet, there was still a sense of pull and strain. That would be resolved.

Eight stood by, a distance far enough to no longer be a disturbance, but still within an optimal range to assist should the need arise. The other humans stayed uncharacteristically silent. How odd. Do humans not require social activity to persist? No matter, they do not ask for help, there is no need for assistance if the necessity is not voiced. All Eight must do is be there to resolve the conflicts as they arise.

Now that the immediate conflict has been resolved, Eight returned to their duties. For peace of mind, or rather, for peace of the Laws, Eight sent a message delivered by radio to their mechanical brother.

<<Friend Krieger. You will ensure the human's safety. I will be here should she require additional assistance. Do not hesitate in your decision.>>

 

[YLVillain]

Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base - Mess Hall
Interactions: FabulousTrash (Kyo) Kameron Esters- (Mace)
Mentions: Coin (Unified Command)

Cy has spent the first hour of his morning doing a light work out and taking a shower, generating himself an appetite for the meal to come ahead. As he showered, he continued to mull over the purpose of him needing shell surgery. He understood the reasons that Unified Command gave him, however, he saw it as more of a detriment to his combat style than anything else. He's not exactly a frontline fighter and the few times he had been, he was able to get away with abandoning his mech and returning to base on foot. As somebody who typically fights in the back line, he saw the instrument to be of negligible use to him, at best making him more accountable for how much damage he tends to take with his mechs. He thinks to himself that maybe that's the skill he's here to develop: how to stop fighting in a way that keeps him losing and needing to replace mechs.

After getting out of the shower, he heads to the mess hall. He waits patiently in line and requests himself a black coffee, buttered toast, turkey sausage patty, scrambled eggs, and assorted fruit. After receiving his food he looks about the hall for a place to eat. He observes a mix between figures that seem to want to be left alone, those being social and crowded, and a mix of people who are in-between the two. Not one to sway too far one way or the other, he picks himself a table that has a couple of people already sitting at it. At the table sits a South Korean woman quietly eating her meal and a South African man with an empty plate in front of him, sipping coffee. Cy sits between the two on the opposite side of the table and whispers to himself a small prayer. "Thank you for the food, the sanctuary, and the people who made both possible. May their lives persist and prosper beyond death and those who seek to rob us of such privileges."

Cy pauses and places his hands on his lap before he begins eating. Cy doesn't eat with utensils but rather he eats with his right hand, using only his thumb, index, and middle finger. When moving between foods, he wipes his fingers with a napkin before moving on. Between bites and sips, he looks up and addresses both other individuals at the table, "What do you guys think the aptitude test is going to be? I imagine there being a mix between physical, mental, and social aspects all being observed, but do you think Unified Command is going to be looking for anything different that you wouldn't find in most Special Forces evals?"

Cy takes a sip of his coffee before following up on his own question, "I mean, we've already made it as far ARES proper, they've seen our personal and psychological records, could it just be as simple as they want to see how well we've acclimated to the shell surgery? I mean, our bodies already accepted the implants, I don't quite see the reason why we would need to spend time doing this over training proper."

 

[Megilagor]

Philip Warragul Bernadotte "Kiwi"​

Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base - Mess Hall
ARES Program: Day 1
Mentions: Remembrance Eight,
Interactions: Gundam Watcher 27 Alex Skye, Zahzi Krieger

It has been a long time since Philip had any real interactions with other humans especially after he was dubbed a Wonder 9 and thrown into the ARES program, his status as a convict did not help though thankfully his guard was somewhat sympathetic to him as he knew the reason for his jail time. So sometimes his guard Alen would smuggle him some Vegemite or that one time he smuggled Philip his mp3 with headphones and his drawing book. Oh boi was Philip ecstatic that day, though he could not show it.

One way or another Philip and his guard arrived at the Mess Hall, they exchanged a few words before splitting off to eat their meals, though his guard always kept an eye on Philip.
"You better don't cause trouble mate. I don't want to use force on ya'."
"Yeah yeah, I get ya' but if crikey happens then crikey happens Alen."
"Just go and eat before they take away your meat."
Hearing those words Philip power walked forwards, grabbing a tray and getting himself some food. Some fried eggs, refried beans, a juicy sausage, alongside some thicc pancakes and a bottle of rootbeer. With his meal on his tray, he needed a seat, so he took a quick glance across the room's many tables. Sitting with many of them did not lay within Philips's scope of wants, but he did see an interesting bunch he couldn't refuse to eat with if only to spite them or have a great interaction with them. So he moved towards their table, another convict, the little 'Astroboy' Eight, and that 'Ironman' looking person Krieger was it, though it seemed Eight was leaving which did sour it up a bid for Philip. And as he approached he raised his voice asking the two of them something simple but vital in this situation.

"Can I sit with the two of ya' mates? Eating alone is pain, but eating in bad company is even worse. And from what I'm seeing you three are good company."
Without waiting for their answers Philip placed his tray on the table and sat down while taking out a small jar of Vegemite from his coat, and removing his hat from his head as a sign of good manners.
"It seems you don't have nice guards lass which is sad honestly. We are supposed to save humanity and yet we are treated like this by them. But if it helps you sleep any better at night, think of the ones you want to protect and prove wrong rather than those who harm ya and did you wrong. It might help."
He said before opening his Vegemite jar and beginning his feast, while slowly drinking it down with alcohol-free root beer.

 

[Coin]

SigNet Communication
Recipient: Class 2037F, All
Sender: UNSIG | CAPT. L. Vidal
Time of Receipt: 0700

Good morning, cadets.

As some of you may know, I will be one of your co-instructors for the ARES Program and your company commander. Firstly, I should address a last-minute change in the schedule for your first day. The amended schedule is as follows:

0500 Breakfast assignment
0900 Aptitude evaluation (Hangar 12)
1400 Lunch assignment
1500 Report to Red Hall for briefing and squadron assignment
1530 UNSIG Doctrinal Familiarization
1800 Debriefing
1900 Dinner assignment

As you can see, I have decided to move your aptitude evaluation up to first thing in the morning. Report to Hangar 12 at 0900 sharp for evaluation. The hangar doors will be locked until 0900 for preparations, so please wait outside until then.

I hope everyone had a chance to visit the mess hall for breakfast today. If you haven't, I recommend you at least stop by to grab something quick to go. Unfortunately, meat rations are usually gone by this time, so if you missed it, you'll have to wait until next week.

Be prepared to give it your all this morning, you'll need it.

Spoiler: GM Note

All cadets of the ARES Program are assigned an ICD, or Internal Communication Device (read: smartphone). It has been adapted to operate on the United Nation's encrypted network and information system: SigNet. This device performs basic communication tasks, but also grants personnel clearance to allowed portions of the duty station. It functions as an ID badge, a communication device, and a reservoir of basic (read: boring) information. Needless to say, all cadets of Class 2037F were firmly instructed to keep their SigNet device on them at all times while on the base. This is where their schedule, the previous communication from Captain Vidal, and any future announcements will be communicated to them.

Speaking of Captain Vidal, some may recognize this name -- especially those who keep up with outstanding aces and exceptional pilots. His resounding climb to Wonder 9 status as a EUNATOCA pilot deployed to the Asian Theater began his rise as a sort of military celebrity. The propaganda, the interviews, and the leaked footage of his operations propelled him straight into the initial pool of ARES Program candidates. Despite his meager appearance and somewhat... underwhelming demeanor, his popularity after the Program continued to skyrocket as he continued to rack up victories for the UN Strategic Intervention Group. Those that find the name familiar would know some, or all of these details. Some may even find him a suitable candidate for a role model, if pale, sickly-looking savant pilots is your thing.

Anyways, please finish any remaining conversations you'd like to in the Mess Hall, show off your morning routine, or start moving over to Hangar 12. We'll be moving forward with the story on Sunday-ish.

Re: americanCaeser , Remembrance , Megilagor , Gundam Watcher 27 , Zahzi , simj26 , Kameron Esters- , FabulousTrash , The One Eyed Bandit , welian , TheRealAngeloftheStorm , YLVillain , tonka , The One Called X

 

[FabulousTrash]

​

Kyo Yu-Ni | "Yongsan"
Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base - Mess Hall

Mentions: Kameron Esters- (Moraes), YLVillain (Cyrus)

​

Her eyes glanced up from her food at the sound of a newcomer sitting down across from her.

She watched as his lips moved as they spoke a small prayer, giving thanks before eating. Yu-Ni's attention was about to return to her food when the newcomer eventually spoke up, addressing her and the African man sat a few seats away.

"I suppose they'll want to test how well we've adjusted to the implants. Or if we're even compatible to begin with."

Yu-Ni could remember everything about the procedure. Well, except the procedure itself since she was put under during it. But she could vividly remember every moment leading up to it, and the moments that followed. At first, there was a lot of residual pain, plus weeks of physical therapy and testing to ensure the implants were functioning correctly. Eventually, the pain faded away and the newly minted ARES pilot was discharged. From there, life was normal.

Whatever they had planned for the aptitude evaluation. Yu-Ni wouldn't make the mistake of assuming it was like what she went through back in South Korea. Sure, the training she went through during her time with the 707th was grueling and tough. But the fate of humanity didn't hang in the balance at the time. She understand that to ensure humanity's survival, only the best of the best would be selected. She would bring her A-game, and Yu-Ni was sure the other pilots here would do the same. If they didn't, they'd either die here or out on the battlefield.

Speak of the devil. Yu-Ni pulled out her ICD from her pocket at the sound of a message being received. Her eyes scanned the words on the screen. The schedule had been altered, and instead of the aptitude test being done later in the day, it was the next thing on their agenda. Either Captain Vidal was eager to see them in action, or there was another reason for the sudden change in plan.

Yu-Ni was familiar with Vidal. His various feats of bravery and heroism on the battlefield had reached every corner within the UN and the blocs underneath, as well as to the public. It was almost like a sports team. Every victory was told with boisterous exaggeration for the sake of entertainment, though there was some truth behind it all. She didn't quite pay too much mind to it all, as she felt comparing herself to Vidal wouldn't be productive. As long as Yu-Ni did her part, the stories of her and her squad's victories would naturally follow. Not that she was in it for the fame, but she couldn't deny the thought of it was nice.

She put her ICD away and wrapped up her meal, setting the utensils neatly together and off to the side. Her arms rested on top of the table, crossing over one another as she added on.

"Whatever the case, I have a feeling it'll be nothing we've experienced before."

(hidden scroll ↓)

 

[simj26]

2nd Lt. James Harland
<<I’m a dot. Can’t stay up for much longer!>>
<<We’re all dots! Keep going! Artificer, we’re doing this. Operation Thunderburst has to succeed. The ground forces need our support.>>
<<Taking heavy fire. When did the bugs start packing this much AA?>>
<<Damn it, I can’t hold out much longer. I’m punching-->>
<<Fore? Dammit, she’s gone.>>
<<Artificer-3, going in. Pushing the envelope.>>
<<Standby, Harland! I’m not going to lose another man.>>
<<You’re not going to. I’m the best.>>

Screeching, screaming, the weight of the forward force pulling him back, dragging him into his seat, forward throttle forced forwards to the point of breaking, his craft spiralling through the oppressive fire, the blue skies beyond set aflame. Voices over the comms, from both land and ground, shouting, screaming, calling for a God to help them. It didn’t matter who, it didn’t matter which. All he could do was push forwards, keep going, keep fighting, for all the voices, for all the scars, for all the people he had lost, for all the families who had lost, for all the girlfriends, boyfriends, wives, husbands who had lost. Plunging past the clouds, diving straight down, further into hell, wings clipped, body marred. Fox 1. Fox 2. Blast them, kill them, take them down, or die trying. Die trying. That’s what they did. They died trying. All of them did. Except him. He had to follow through. Into the flames, into hell.


His eyes opened slowly, the fires of Thunderburst faded away into the ceiling of his personal quarters. He turned to one side. An opened bottle of pills lay across the desk, its contents spilled over. They were helping him get to the ‘sleep’ part of his routine, but it didn’t help him from feeling like shit every morning. Every nightmare, every reminder that he was still alive ached. He sat up slowly, pushed himself off the bed, and shambled over to the desk. He swept the pills into their container, and capped it, before setting it aside. He was late for the first meal of the day. Not that it mattered. Even if it was meat day, he didn’t find it in himself to consume any food now, not after peering into the vivid memory of that day.

A cold shower, a set of warmups, and that was all he had to do to prepare to face the day. Today marked his first day as a pilot of a different kind of craft. One that would help him bring that dream of seeing the blue beyond to fruition. It was the least he could do for Alchemist. He picked up his helmet and an energy bar he had sat aside. Even if he wasn’t in the mood to eat, the least he could do was keep himself operational. He stuffed the bar into his mouth, and shoved his helmet over his head. Time to move out. He dragged himself out of the door of his quarters, and towards the direction of Hangar 12.

He moved on auto-pilot, barely registering the sights and scents of the base, his thoughts a muddy, murky mess as he continued to convince himself that this was the best way to move forwards. He had to move forwards. For them. He’ll bring them back to the skies. He’ll see it once again for them, that vast azure sea of nothingness, those moments of freedom, unchained by the woes of the ground beneath.

Eventually, he found himself standing in front of the doors of the Hangar. It wouldn’t open until oh-nine-hundred. He grunted, and sat down next to the doors, propping himself up against the wall. Too slow. Too slow. He had to move. He had to fly. He had to fight. In the white noise of the base operations, of the people milling about in the early hours of the morning, the voices began to return, one in the forefront of it all.

<<Alchemist-2, when we get back to base, I’ve got something for you.>>

What did she mean by this? He would never know now.

 

[Zahzi]

Hannes Krieger Haber
Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base
Nearby: Kameron Esters- [Moraes] Gundam Watcher 27 [Jailbird] Remembrance [8] americanCaeser [Percival] Megilagor [Kiwi]
Disposition: Somevahn has been annoying ze gut Captain, I zee....

{Nozhing to vorry about, Acht. Hezitation is not somezhing I am known for.}
​

Going just off the voice alone, Krieger could recognize who was asking to sit with them. Fortuitous, seeing as who he had been talking with just a moment ago.
"Ah, Herr Bernadotte! Gut to see another shining soul on zhis fine morning." He continued takking away at the screen, the text reacting to every touch. He listened in as Philip spoke to Alex, nodding every so often.
"Perhaps vith you here, ve may be able to get zhis whole reformation protocol-"

{SigNet Communication
Recipient: Class 2037F, All
Sender: UNSIG | CAPT. L. Vidal
Time of Receipt: 0700}
​

"...Ah. I see Zhat somezhing has come up instead." A mechanical sigh as he set the tablet back in his pack and retrieving an empty container and taking a small portion of the selection of meat on his original tray and sealing it. He had noted one particular person among their roster who wasn't present and whom had been rather vocal about their elation of today's menu. He had an idea where they were now after that last broadcast. Still, it would be rude to leave at this exact moment.

"It truly iz a shame of ze temperament of our zecurity compliment at zhis inzhtallation. Zhough, it may have more to do vith nationality zhen ztatus, no?" Krieger looked back to Alex, his head at a quizzical tilt.
"You are apart of Ruzzian Reformation Project, correct? Unt Bernadotte, I know of your zimilar interactions. Zhere iz no call for animozity to zhose svorn to protect zhe people. Zoon as zhey realize zhis, all ze better."

A thought occurred as he set the container in his pack.
"...Zhat being zaid, if zhey continue , ze bullzhit, let me know. I vill...Talk to them. Privately."
Why did that last word seem far more malicious than it should..?

​

 

[YLVillain]

Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base - Mess Hall
Interactions: FabulousTrash (Kyo)
Mentions: Coin (Unified Command)

Cy finishes his portion of meat and eggs and slows down to savor the rest of his meal. Anytime he can afford to appreciate a meal for what it is, he takes it. After all, delightful moments are hard to come by these days, so it's better spent appreciated rather than squandered. After finishing a bite of toast and wiping his fingers, he takes a few moments to mull over the woman's words and look over everybody else in the mess hall. At the same time as everybody else, he receives a notification from Unified Command. The schedule has been updated and the aptitude eval has been pushed up. Cy looks back over the room gathering reactions from the hall. Once again, they look as mixed as the crowd itself. After hearing the woman's response to his question, he nods in acknowledgement and takes a sip of his coffee. "Lots of mixed faces out there after the schedule change."

Cy sets down his coffee and eats a few pieces of fruit, "With that last minute schedule change, it makes you wonder. What kind of eval can be pushed up 4 hours? Why the sudden change of heart about the time?"

Cy pauses to finish off his toast and wipe his hands and mouth, "What if the change is part of the test and we're already being observed as to our reactions?"

Cy looks around, observing mess hall and security staff alike, to see their reactions and what they're doing, "Or maybe I'm doing more than what a soldier's job should be and I'm just wasting my reserved R&R indulging needless anxieties."

Cy finishes the rest of his food and neatly cleans his station before moving his tray to the side. Cy thinks on his past experiences and how they've mostly been trials by fire. Not once has he received any formal training since being absorbed into the AUPC when they first formed. He learned how to use an ETA in-transit to his first mission; he learned how to emergency evac his mech with no ejection features after losing a fight to a warrior; he learned how to fight foreign fighting styles, twice, during the first missions he was assigned with new ETA models he had never even seen before. Cy has never been offered the luxury of being trained and prepared for a fight and yet he was still chosen for the program nonetheless. If he was picked despite his combat record, then it's for who he is as a person. The best thing he can do for himself is to be exactly who his new supervisors expect him to be; that or something better. Cy decides for himself that the minimum requirement that command is looking for is that he's not any worse than he was before he got the surgeries. If he can prove that, get along with his fellow classmates, and anything more, then they should be satisfied with such results. Cy smiles to himself and takes a hearty sip of his coffee, "Allow me to apologize for my rudeness, I should have introduced myself before I even sat down, let alone engage in conversation and share a table and meal with you."

Cy corrects his posture, disposition, and offers his hand to shake in greeting, "Cyrus Abadie, callsign 'Red Herring', I served in Algeria and the northern Sahara before and after Tartarus and at Mashhad for the last few years before this."

 

[Kameron Esters-]

Moraes U. Coaling - ARES Program Day 1 - Mess Hall

Moraes finished his meal with a mechanical efficiency that mirrored his approach to most tasks: thorough, deliberate, and devoid of unnecessary flourishes. He was already recalibrating his mind for the day’s challenges, particularly the aptitude evaluation that had been pushed up to the morning hours. Captain Vidal’s message, which he skimmed on his SigNet device, underscored the urgency and gravity of what lay ahead. The terse, no-nonsense tone of the communication was something Moraes appreciated; it was a clear directive, and he preferred clarity to conviviality in professional matters.

As he stood up, tray in hand, Moraes scanned the room one last time, noting the dynamics at play among the other candidates. His gaze briefly met with various pilots, each wrapped up in their own morning routines or grappling with their thoughts. Some faces were marked by tension, others by a quiet resignation to the day’s demands. It was a microcosm of the larger battle they were all part of—a battle not just against the Starfallen, but against the limits of their own capabilities and endurance.

Moraes made his way to the disposal area to drop off his tray, his movements precise and his posture straight, exuding a quiet confidence. He was a man accustomed to the rigors of military life, and though the integration of the Shell had been a grueling experience, he was no stranger to pain or adversity. The enhancement was just another tool in his arsenal, another means to sharpen his edge in a war that demanded nothing less than total commitment.

Stepping out of the Mess Hall, Moraes allowed himself a brief moment to focus. He drew a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs, a momentary respite before the storm. As he walked towards Hangar 12, his mind replayed the possible scenarios that the aptitude evaluation might entail. Each step was measured, a rhythmic beat in the quiet morning that resonated with his own rising resolve.

Today was not just another day; it was a proving ground. Each moment from here on out was an opportunity to demonstrate his worth, to test his mettle against whatever Captain Vidal and the ARES program had in store. Moraes was ready, not just to meet expectations, but to exceed them, to push himself to the limits of what was possible.

As he neared Hangar 12, Moraes checked his SigNet device one last time, confirming the details of the briefing and the start time. He was early, as was his habit, preferring to give himself ample time to assess the environment and prepare mentally for the trials ahead. Standing outside the hangar, Moraes's eyes surveyed the structure, his mind already anticipating the challenges inside.

 

[americanCaeser]

ALFIE 'PERCIVAL' QUILLER

Mentions: Coin (Captain Vidal) simj26 (Harland) Kameron Esters- (Moraes)

​

Just as swiftly and quietly as he came, so to did Percival leave the Mess Hall, depositing his empty tray beside the trash. Even as he walked down the halls, the sounds and voices from the Mess Hall carried alongside him like ghosts chuckling at an inside joke. So many old new faces, so many new soldiers to watch die fight beside in the coming days. Soon, the sounds faded away and Percival was left alone with his thoughts.

It was odd how the facility had changed the schedule on such short notice. Well, that wasn't true. The military was prone to changing it's mind at the last minute, with dozen's of little alterations to plans or schedules at a time, sometimes right up until the event itself.

In fact, he could see the sense in today's last minute change. It wouldn't make sense to assign squads and then figure out who was proficient with what, to see who meshed with who and who would make for a poor team. An aptitude test would allow for at least a brief window to analyze the various pilots before assignments to ensure maximum efficiency and synergy. None of this Percival very much cared for, mind you.

All Percival was interested in was how he could use this opportunity to observe fellow pilots and glean a bit more information to further his own goals. It may also be his first time in an ETA in weeks since his surgeries, and he bemoaned how much time laying in bed recuperating and reviewing combat logs would have dulled his senses. At least he could begin adjusting to the ARES Programs upgrades and honing himself back into fighting shape. Perhaps it was this eagerness to 'get back into the saddle' as a Yankee would put it, or just plain old nerves that made him arrive quite a bit early to Hangar 12 having slipped into his jumpsuit beforehand.

Turns out, he wasn't the only one who came early.

Two other figures loitered patiently by the entrance. One was the same man Percival had seen watching the other pilots, dark skin and hair and a piercing gaze that was directed towards the hangar this time and not Percival. The other was a pilot he hadn't seen before, his patch marking him from Singapore, but his demeanor it was one Percival knew all too well didn't want to dwell on.

Percival wasn't a man of poor impressions, and wasn't the type to look down at other pilots or act superior. He had long since accepted he was better than most pilots he'd come across but not good enough, even other Wonder 9's tended to fall short. This was merely a fact, just like the fact was the two men he stood around were nothing to sneeze at. Call it a gut feeling, a sixth sense, a warriors aura or whatever you may, but Percival knew that these two weren't to be trifled with. In fact, now that he thought about it, neither were many of the people he's come across in ARES so far...

 

[FabulousTrash]

​

Kyo Yu-Ni | "Yongsan"
Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base - Mess Hall

Mentions: Cyrus ( YLVillain )

​

Her eyes looked around the room, observing the other pilots briefly at the suggestion that they were already being tested, before looking back at Cyrus.

"I doubt it. We're more than just normal soldiers now. As far as United Command should be concerned, we're their best assets and they cant afford to lose us."

Even more so that they had already went through all the necessary surgeries. Not like the doctors could undo their work. And even if they could, Yu-Ni imagined it would be a waste of time and resources.

Movement caught her eye, as she watched the dark-skinned man get up from their table, taking his tray with him and exited the mess hall. Other pilots followed suite. Yu-Ni looked back over at Cyrus as he formally introduced himself. With a small smile, she took his hand in hers, giving it a firm shake.

"Yu-Ni Kyo, but you can just call me Kyo. Callsign Yongsan. South Korean special forces before the Starfall. My unit got reorganized within PASEL shortly after. Been all over Asia since then."

Yu-Ni withdrew her hand, picking up her food tray and nodded towards the exit.

"Shall we?"

She waited for Cyrus to gather his things before heading over to the trash bin, scraping the small leftover food particles before leaving the tray and utensils in the collection bin beside it. Once Cyrus was ready, Yu-Ni headed out towards Hanger 12.

As she watched the other pilots walked in the same direction Yu-Ni was, she wondered who would end up in the squad she would be assigned to. Everyone she's encountered so far seemed decent and friendly. Though, this aptitude test would put their skills on display, and separate those who were capable from those that weren't. At the end of the day, Yu-Ni would rather have people that wouldn't die in the first five minutes of an engagement.

When they finally arrived at Hanger 12, it became clear she wasn't the first to arrive. Not that big of a deal, seeing she was still early to the call time. Her hands found their way into the pocket of her pants. Nothing to do but wait now.

(hidden scroll ↓)

 

[YLVillain]

Location: Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base - Mess Hall
Interactions: FabulousTrash (Kyo)
Mentions: Coin (Unified Command), simj26 (Harland), Kameron Esters- (Mace), americanCaeser (Percival)

Cy smiled to return the gesture in kind. Afterwards, Cy gathered his tray and returned it to the trash receptacle. Cyrus noticed a few pieces of trash laying next to the bin as he was putting up his tray. He grabbed the pieces of trash off the floor and put them in the bin. Staff are people too, they deserve as much a helping hand as any of the rest of us when it can be afforded. Before heading off to the hangar, Cy goes off to the bathroom so that way he can go wash his hands beforehand. After giving his hands a good and thorough scrub down, he returned to Kyo and headed off with her towards the testing hangar.

Cy felt as though he was off to a good start with his day. He had himself a good workout, a good shower, a good breakfast, and a good conversation. This put him in good spirits but he didn't let such a mood make him cocky or arrogant. On the walk over, he thought on what Kyo had to say about us being the best assets that Unified Command has. Does that mean that there's even a way to 'fail' the test? Who knows at this point but our superiors; and us within the next few hours or so. Cy started to think more on what the test could entail. If this is a test to determine our squadron assignments, then our skill is only half of what they're looking for, they're looking for how we work together. It's a good thing that Cy was able to strike up a conversation with at least somebody during breakfast and even get an opportunity to introduce himself and learn their name as well. For as little as it may seem, that'll go a long way when it really needs to in terms of improvised cooperation.

As Cy approached Hangar 12, he gazed over the pilots who had already shown up already. The first guy is hard to read due to him wearing a helmet. He looked either really focused or really exhausted. Maybe even both. The next guy in line was the South African man that was sitting at the same table as him earlier. He seemed as focused now as he did earlier. Despite trying to strike up a conversation with him, it didn't seem to shake him. Different people prepare themselves in different ways so Cy didn't think anything of it. The next guy in line was a British man who he only saw for a few moments back in the mess hall. Cy didn't get much of an opportunity to get much of a read on the guy earlier, but seeing him now, he seems to carry the same disposition as all the rest of the pilots in line are expressing. An air of those who really do not want to be bothered or distracted in the moments leading up to an eval that'll ultimately decide their fate within the rest of the ARES program. Cy was hoping to use the spare time to maybe learn more names but it seems as thought that'll have to wait for another time.

When Cy assumes his position in line, he decides to make the most of his time and sit down and meditate. With everybody doing what they need to do in order to ready and prepare themselves, it's only appropriate that Cy does the same. He focused on his posture and breathing and worked towards reaching a point where he no longer needs to focus and just maintains his posture and breathing without even thinking. Cyrus cleared his mind and studied the environment around him: smells, sounds, the wind over his skin. The more things that are foreign and unusual that he familiarizes himself with, the better prepared he can be to most accurately represent himself, and mitigate any unexpected circumstances due to trivial factors.

 

[Coin]

​

October 12th, 2037
ARES Program Day 1
Aptitude Evaluation
Sanctuary Point Unified Command Naval Base
Hangar 12

Hangar 12 was ten minutes walk (or a five minute jog) away from the main residency area of Sanctuary Point Naval Base. The monolithic structure of Hangar 12 dwarfed many of the other hangars at the base. All of the hangars and the miles of runway tarmac they rested upon still somehow felt just a stone's throw away from nature. To the west, dense woodland carpeted rocky hills and crags; to the east, the turquoise waters of the Tasman Sea lap on the nearby beaches. The refreshing breeze of the ocean did wonders to ease the cloudless sky and blazing sun overhead. Here, it was hard for some to believe that the war for humanity's survival was happening at all.

The blasting of a foghorn from the EUNATOCA supercarrier CVN-89 USS Avril Haines, signaling its departure alongside its escorts from Sanctuary Point was a stark reminder of mankind's stubborn refusal to turn over and die. At 0850, the carrier strike group had exited the bay and sailed into the deep blue ocean, no doubt to relieve the haggard defenders at the raging Battle of Bangkok. Of the ETAs and jet fighters visible on the deck of CVN-89, it was likely that many would never return.

At 0900, the massive shutter doors of Hangar 12 unlocked. A series of hydraulic hisses and rumbling machinery rumbled through the air and ground as the bolts that locked the hangar disengaged. The blast doors inched open about 10%, which was plenty enough for two lanes of traffic to drive in and out. Inside, twenty or so ETAs were being serviced by no less than a hundred total mechanics and technicians. Some were standing at attention, some in various states of disassembly, and some being loaded onto massive gantry cranes and lowered onto an elevator that disappeared deep into the bowels of the ground.

Directly in the door's entrance was a short, pale, and rather unassuming and androgynous-looking man. His expression was somewhere between bored and lobotomized, especially given the corpselike glare from his eyes. Or, eye, since his certainly not regulation-length shaggy grey hair had completely covered the other. Standing at a staggering 5'6" and appearing roughly to be in his mid-30s, those that could identify him would know him as Captain Laurent Vidal. This was the pilot they called "Snowfox," renowned veteran of the Battle of Tokyo, and part of the first batch of ARES candidates.

"Hey, there," he spoke plainly in a deadpan monotone, and in a way rather unbefitting for an officer.

His eyes drifted over the crowd of pilots that had gathered in front of the hangar doors, taking no more than a few milliseconds over each face. "Great, you're all here. Please follow me inside."

Without stopping for questions or to check if he was being followed he continued on, "I'm Captain Vidal. I'll be your commanding officer. There will be plenty of time for introductions later, but we're on a rather tight time table."

He led the group of rookie pilots over to three rows of ten pods that could immediately be identified as ejection capsules that had been separated from their ETAs. The pods were being tended to by egg-headed technicians in sheet white lab coats, tapping away at clipboards and tablets as they tinkered with the screens. On each of the pods was a small screen that read the names of pilots, with one seeming to belong to a corresponding member of Class 2037F.

Nearby, a console of dozens of separate viewing screens was occupied by two women in lab coats. One was a well put together woman with wide circular-rimmed glasses, while the other was the female counterpart to Captain Vidal's scruffiness with a few more shots of espresso. The latter would be a surprise to those who would recognize her as the intellectual mother of the whole ARES Program, Dr. Ursula Minamoto. One hundred charges of human rights violations but zero convictions have earned her the nickname "Red Witch" to some. She would peel away from the consoles to greet the cadets, while the other woman with the glasses stayed put.

"Let me first introduce you to a couple more people. First, Dr. Minamoto, program director," Captain Vidal gestured towards the doctor as she approached. He then lazily moved his point over to the lady who was still behind the console screens. "Additionally, over there is the company's cybernetics maintainer, Dr. Simonova. Please reach out to Dr. Simonova if you have any issues with your cybernetics. Meanwhile, Dr. Minamoto is here--"

"Thank you, Captain, I can take over from here," Dr. Minamoto interrupted.

Captain Vidal's expression was unmoved, looking entirely indifferent to the interruption, "Sure, whatever."

"Let me first say that the fact that you are all standing here now is nothing short of impressive. Your accomplishments, your survival, and your successes are absolutely worthy of celebration and praise. However, please understand that this program will ask of you to be more than impressive. Mankind depends on it -- we depend on you," she paused as she scanned the candidates before her. "As Captain Vidal was saying, I am here because I would like to review Class 2037F's aptitude evaluation in person before I have to depart this afternoon to Sydney for a council meeting. That being said, I take full responsibility for the sudden change in your schedule for the first day of your training. Please accept my apologies. I'll turn things over now to your evaluation proctors and Dr. Simonova."

There was a seconds too long pause that floated in the air where only the whir of machinery in the background could be heard. Dr. Minamoto's pursed lips slowly curled into an expression of tested patience as she cleared her throat and said just a little louder this time, "Dr. Simonova?"

"Oh-ho! Sorry! Sorry, Dr. Minamoto," the other doctor scrambled out of her seat. She picked up her ICD as she briskly walked over to the pilots. "Hi there, everyone! I just finished reviewing everyone's medical record and am pleased to announce that all bodies present are cleared for duty. Congratulations on bypassing Total Rejection Syndrome and surviving the first phase of the ARES Program! Our next step is to evaluate your Shell augmentation's neurological compatibility with the third generation ETA control hardware."

She walked over to one of the pods and pressed on the lock symbol near the display screen. The pod hissed open, revealing a cockpit space that dutifully recreated the cramped interior of the ETA's control capsule. The seat was lined with wireless sensor modules that were not present in previous generations of ETAs, no doubt the interface technology used to operate the Shell augmentation. Other than that difference, and perhaps a little more space than second generation cockpits, the interior was very familiar to the pilots before them.

"If you would please locate and climb into the capsule simulator with your name displayed, we will begin the evaluation shortly," Dr. Simonova said with a smile, stepping aside and letting the cadets find their pods. "If you have any questions before we begin, or at any time during the evaluation, don't hesitate to ask!"

Spoiler: GM Note, Please Read!

Hey everyone! Officially kicking the roleplay off! Thanks everyone for your patience so far. I know a few more people are working on pilots, so I've decided to extend the deadline until after the evaluation is over. Once we get into the next portion where squadrons will be assigned, then I'll lock in characters for the first chapter.

As for posting tips: once your pilot climbs into the cockpit simulator and engages the Shell Neuropath Uplink (a switch inside the cockpit), they will feel a sensation throughout their nerves for a few moments. This can manifest in moderate to severe pain to some, and a mere ticklish jolt to others. It's up to you how this manifests, but the sensation will end suddenly when the uplink completes.

Once the uplink has been established (this can take up to 30 seconds or so for first time users), an Uplink Strength will be read out on the interface screen. This Uplink Strength will be between Level 1 and Level 10, with a perfect connection being Level 10. Most pilots on initial evaluation score between Level 3 and 5, but exceptions certainly exist. It's up to you how you want your pilot to score once the uplink has been established. You get to tell your own story here.

As always, please let me know if anyone has any questions.

Re: americanCaeser , Remembrance , Megilagor , Gundam Watcher 27 , Zahzi , simj26 , Kameron Esters- , FabulousTrash , The One Eyed Bandit , welian , TheRealAngeloftheStorm , YLVillain , tonka , The One Called X

 

[Kameron Esters-]

Moraes U. Coaling - ARES Program Day 1 - Aptitude Evaluation, Hangar 12

Moraes walked briskly into Hangar 12, his eyes sweeping over the assembly of ETAs being prepared and the array of ejection capsules aligned for the day's evaluation. The sight of the massive machinery in motion was familiar yet awe-inspiring, reminding him of the sheer scale of the war effort and the critical role he was about to play in it.

As Captain Vidal gave his brief, almost disinterested introduction and Dr. Minamoto took over with a more impassioned speech, Moraes absorbed every word, his focus unwavering. He respected the urgency and gravity of the task ahead, understanding all too well the thin line between survival and extinction that they were all treading.

When Dr. Simonova announced the clearance for all pilots and explained the procedure for the Shell augmentation's compatibility test, Moraes nodded in acknowledgment. The opportunity to test these enhancements in a controlled environment was something he had been mentally preparing for since the surgery.

Locating the capsule simulator with his name displayed, Moraes approached it with a measured pace. He inspected the setup briefly, noting the wireless sensor modules and the slightly more spacious cockpit. He climbed into the simulator, his movements precise and deliberate.

Once seated, Moraes took a moment to familiarize himself with the cockpit's layout. It was similar enough to the previous generation's setups, but the nuances of the third-generation technology demanded attention. He found the switch for the Shell Neuropath Uplink and paused, mentally bracing himself for the connection process he was about to initiate.

Taking a deep breath, Moraes flipped the switch. Immediately, he felt a surge of sensations flood through his nerves. It was intense, more so than he had anticipated, but he remained stoic, his jaw set firmly as he endured the discomfort. Pain was an old companion, and he knew how to bear its presence.

The seconds stretched on, each one filled with electric currents running through his body. Finally, as promised, the sensation ceased abruptly, leaving a lingering buzz in its wake. Moraes looked at the interface screen, waiting for his Uplink Strength score to appear.

The number flashed on the screen: Level 7.

A hint of satisfaction flickered across Moraes's features. It was a strong start, better than average, and a testament to his body's adaptability to the Shell. He allowed himself a moment of relief before his training kicked in, shifting his focus to the next steps of the evaluation.

 

[Remembrance]

AX-8 | "Eight" | Arcade
Priority: Second Law
Interactions: Coin (Cockpit Simulator) Zahzi (Friend Krieger)
Mentions: YLVillain (Kind human)​

It had not been long since the message from Captain Vidal arrived to all of Class 2037F. Eight worked busily on the tables. There were now two duties to uphold. Most of the tables had been wiped clean, at least those without a human occupying them. This would have to do for now. It couldn't be helped that the newest order held far more significance. On their way, Eight noticed another who was diligent about leaving his space cleaner than he found it. What a kind human he must be.

Eight moved between the ensemble of personnel travelling throughout Sanctuary Point. Seeing all of this, it made Eight wonder. How much manpower has been allocated to allow this facility to persist? How many rations can be allocated for survival, and what is the basis of that decision? How many minds have put their brains together? Was it all for the purpose of turning a human into a weapon?

Was it that vague thing called hope that could push them to such lengths?

- - -​

Inside the hanger, Eight saw all of what humanity could do to persevere through a tragedy. Industrialization. Mechanization. Warfare. These are all things Eight knows, but never truly experienced. It brought to mind another question to be left unanswered; was Eight really needed in this world of humankind? If this was the culmination of what every being native to this planet could achieve, what more could a robot do? With the introduction of Dr. Simonova, Eight's question was answered.

Pods such as the training variant were a familiar sight to Eight. The people of Beijing were kind when Eight arrived, but were ill-suited to accommodate a robot. Before clearance could be given—it's absence due in part to their clandestine origins—Eight spent ninety percent of their time in Beijing inside a pod. They remembered it, not out of fondness or some other emotional affect, simply as though they were viewing it from a screen. From dawn to dusk, every day over the longest month of that year, Eight would float idly by. Their entire body contained in a vertical pod filled with perfluorocarbon with writhing hoses drifting without any connection. That was their entire day, at least, until clearance came.

These pods seemed much more comforting, comparatively.

The cavalcade of pilots was easy to navigate, like a test where you connect lines across a column of answers and questions. Each slotted themselves perfectly to the answer to each of their questions.

Eight too answered their question.

The cockpit would seem cramp, however, given Eight's smaller stature, it felt right. Their arms weren't too far from the control sticks, the monitors neither too far to discern distant objects, and their feet could reach the pedals. That last one was the most important piece. For too long, Eight had been cursed to experience sitting in a seat that cannot be adjusted. This was a kind reprieve from the horror of being unable to reach the pedals.

Eight put their back to the seat, straightening out their body as best as they could. There was a shiver across Eight's body, an odd sensation. This would be the 2nd time Eight has experienced what humans describe a shiver to be. The wave passed as soon as it came, cresting at the top of their head. The monitor flashed a yellow sign before displaying the uplink level strength of Eight's most recent modification.

LEVEL : 2​

This number made sense, in some fashion, to Eight. With all the hardware packed into Eight's small cranium, coupled with the reduction of unnecessary functions, what else was there to work with? Eight barely understood the mechanics and fundamentals of their own construction. What documents that survived, even after the collapse of their principle facility, could not nearly suffice to decipher the madness contained in their head.

Eight could count every modification in their body. From the desalinator to the vocoder. Every function this body has was named and explained, covering every region except the head. The head was a void of information. Although they are not proud to admit, the thought of cutting open their own skull did cross their memory buffers many a time. Every time it passed, it'd be vetoed by the Third Law. This was an acceptable conclusion for Eight, but it would not be a lie to say that this thought makes it rounds regardless of how many times it's shot down.

<<Friend Krieger, would you disapprove of informing me of your Uplink Strength Level? I do not believe that it is something to be hidden. My level is two.>>

Again that thought passed, this time amended with a new condition. This would be its 104th incarnation of data, amended countless times to pass through the great filter in Eight's mind. From its first incarnation to its previous one, it has never made it past the Third Law. And yet, in spite of precedence, it has passed through the filter and arrived safely on the other side.

<<If you are not otherwise preoccupied, I would like to ask your help for an internal matter when we acquire unused time. You are not compelled by the Laws to abide.>>

 

[Gundam Watcher 27]

Alex Skye - ARES Program: Day 1

Alex remained silent with her head down until she heard a chair make a metallic screech sound. She looked up to see a familiar face, Phillip wasn't it? She met him prior to the operation, and they both had guards assigned to watch them.​

"It seems you don't have nice guards lass which is sad honestly. We are supposed to save humanity and yet we are treated like this by them. But if it helps you sleep any better at night, think of the ones you want to protect and prove wrong rather than those who harm ya and did you wrong. It might help."

Alex sighed. "If only it was that easy." She replied, before she heard the notification sound of her phone go off. She took it out of her front vest pocket and saw the schedule change. This happened around the same time Kreiger had gotten his tablet out.
"I'm gonna go on ahead."
Skye said, before turning her phone off and putting it back where she got it from. She saw her two guards at the entrance, each eating a Bismarck Donut.

"And then I said "Wow, it sounds much scarier down there than back home! I swear, Australians have it more rough than us sometimes." Guard 1 said, before noticing Skye. "Ah, if it isn't the child we need to babysit!"
"You call me a child, but there's a 5 year difference between us." Alex replied.
"Uh.... Anyways, where do you think you're off to?" Guard 1 asked.
"Just taking initiative. I don't wanna be late to the Evaluation." Alex replied.
Guard 2 chuckled and jabbed Guard 1 playfully. "She got you beat there."
Guard 1 stomped on Guard 2's right foot and Guard 2 yelped, before hopping on his left leg while hugging his injured right leg.
------------------

Alex was not the first to arrive, but she certainly wasn't the last either. Alex stood off to the side, leaning against a wall while she crossed her arms. The two Guards weren't with her at the moment, as they were called away to help wash dishes in the cafeteria.​

"Let me first say that the fact that you are all standing here now is nothing short of impressive. Your accomplishments, your survival, and your successes are absolutely worthy of celebration and praise.

'Feels like the people in RCSTO still hate me for being alive.' Alex replied in silence.​

However, please understand that this program will ask of you to be more than impressive. Mankind depends on it -- we depend on you," she paused as she scanned the candidates before her.

Alex closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose, before opening her eyes again. 'I never was impressive. If I was, I wouldn't be here.' She replied silently again. 'Dependable? I'm expendable, if anything.'
Alex listened to the rest of the explanation from Ursula, before she let Dr Simonova take the lead.
​

"Hi there, everyone! I just finished reviewing everyone's medical record and am pleased to announce that all bodies present are cleared for duty. Congratulations on bypassing Total Rejection Syndrome and surviving the first phase of the ARES Program! Our next step is to evaluate your Shell augmentation's neurological compatibility with the third generation ETA control hardware."

She walked over to one of the pods and pressed on the lock symbol near the display screen. The pod hissed open, revealing a cockpit space that dutifully recreated the cramped interior of the ETA's control capsule. The seat was lined with wireless sensor modules that were not present in previous generations of ETAs, no doubt the interface technology used to operate the Shell augmentation. Other than that difference, and perhaps a little more space than second generation cockpits, the interior was very familiar to the pilots before them.

"If you would please locate and climb into the capsule simulator with your name displayed, we will begin the evaluation shortly," Dr. Simonova said with a smile, stepping aside and letting the cadets find their pods. "If you have any questions before we begin, or at any time during the evaluation, don't hesitate to ask!"

Alex was the first to raise her hand.
"Has anyone died before while doing this?"​