Episode 11 - Apollo, Son of Zeus [TE]

The last RPG was "Zeta Gundam: Tales from the Frontlines - The AEUG" which ran from 2006-14.
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Episode 11 - Apollo, Son of Zeus [TE]

((All Titan players, please start Arc 2 here. You should probably wait for Cardi to post first...))
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Tales from the Frontlines, Arc 2: Operation Apollo

- Side 7 -
- Gryps -


August 6th, UC 0087

- Alexandria-class Kirov -
- Main Bridge -


After five days of uneventful travel, the two autonomous raider taskforces Echo and Bravo arrived wearily at the headquarters to which they had been summoned.

The realization that Bask's order was the sole reason the rebel escort unit hadn't been engaged an annihilated stung Ltcmdr. Andrewson Trent bitterly. He was usually a reasonable man, but when his mission was interrupted so callously, he could only hope it was for a good reason.

Lt. Aleksandr Ivanovich Stukov, leader of the Kirov's Alpha Team, was on the bridge as well. Hanging around on the bridge and giving unneeded commentary was a habit he'd had back when he and Trent had served aboard the Salamis Kai-class Kalinin. He'd probably been doing it since long before he was serving under Trent.

The door slid open. It was Commodore Wolf Ritter XXIV, with Taskforce Echo's intelligence officer, Lt. Tariq Sayed.

"We're just entering Gryps airspace, sir," reported Trent, "We've been in contact with the Gryps controllers for the past twenty minutes." A good thing, too. Gryps was currently surrounded by a swarm of warships and military craft, more than a few identified as parts of autonomous raider taskforces just like Echo. Gryps regularly had units on patrol around it, especially after the AEUG managed to sneak into the colony and steal prototype mobile suits back in March, but this kind of presence was far more than the norm. Something big was brewing.

Nakagawa piped up as more information came through to him. He rattled off the docks at which ships from Taskforce Echo were cleared to land, and also that the Commodore and Trent were requested at headquarters. Trent blinked at that last part. They were to be seen personally?

"Very well. Once we dock, personnel will be allowed leave for 24 hours."
Last edited by Cardi Doorl on Mon Mar 12, 2007 1:03 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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~Some time later...~

- Alexandria-class Kirov -
- Mobile Suit Bay -


There was a buzz all about as the Kirov docked. 24 hours' leave! That was always reason for excitement.

Ltjg. Leandro Fulgencio Alvarez and Ltjg. Erebus Jones were no exceptions to this. Even with his mind occupied, Erebus still found room to look forward to some off-duty time. Other personnel were already on their way out. Before these two could leave, though, Leandro wanted to check on something. The mail had been delivered.

The Kirov boasted a large crew, and thus the incoming mail was in large amount. Orderlies tried desperately to keep everything in order and called out names, but junior officers had a tendency to snatch at any mail they saw with their name, which often foiled the orderlies' efforts. Leandro elbowed his way past an observation crewman to grab his bundle of letters from under an orderly's arm, then quickly retreated back to Erebus.

"Nice," said Erebus with a distant grin, "Now we're free to go."

Leandro gave a wide grin, and put his forefinger to his thumb in an "OK" symbol as they headed out.

- Gryps 1 Colony Interior -
- Titans Main Command Center -


Trent brewed silently as he and the Commodore waited. He'd only just now discovered that it was Bask Om himself who would be seeing them, and that had set Trent on edge. He'd suspected the Commodore of something ever since the man had rather suddenly been put in charge of Echo, and many of those suspicions led to Om.

It didn't help that he was outnumbered. The Commodore had, as always, brought his usual wings along - his daughter Ens. Mercedes Ritter and to-be daughter-in-law Ens. Alexandra Engel.

A brawny Lieutenant sulked out with a black eye and a limp, followed shortly by a call from the eye-candy secretary that Trent and the Commodore were allowed in. Steeling himself, Trent stood up and followed the Commodore in.

Bask Om was exactly as Trent remembered him back when they last met face-to-face over half a year ago; the red cap worn perfectly straight, the florid facial structure, and those distinctive red goggles that gave him an unblinking visage. Also in the room, standing behind Bask's desk and to Bask's right, was a hazel-haired man of average height and build, the type who was easy to pick from a crowd due to his stunning lack of distinctive features. He wore an odd uniform foreign to Trent.

With a click of the heels, the Commodore saluted matter-of-factly. Trent and the two Ensigns followed suit.

"My time is precious, so I'll cut to the point," intoned Bask abruptly, "Commodore Ritter, Lieutenant Commander Trent, your raider taskforce has been selected to take part in our reclamation of Von Braun City, codenamed Operation Apollo. I will be briefing all of the raider taskforces tomorrow morning, so no need to go over the details now."

At this, Trent had to wonder. He'd assumed this might have had to do with the large losses he'd taken in his pursuit of the AEUG fleet, but Bask didn't seem to care. Typical of the powers that be, they conveniently overlooked it when they had plans in motion. Trent wasn't about to complain.

The Commodore beat him to the question he wanted to ask, "Sir, Taskforce Echo is currently in a weakened state. We have lost a Salamis Kai-class Cruiser, and our mobile suit forces have been dwindled to almost nothing. If we are to participate in a major operation, we will need reinforcements and resupply."

"Already arranged for," retorted Bask, "And for that matter, the last Federal warship in your unit the..." he flipped through a file on the desk in front of him, "the Ajax, will be reassigned elsewhere. Incorporating regulars into our raider taskforces was merely a temporary measure, but we are now capable of purifying our ranks. Echo will not be an exception. To compensate this loss, you will receive three new Salamis Kai-class cruisers."

Bask read off the names. Ipswich. Herakles. Buxoro. They were new ships, with the Ipswich having been put to service just two months ago. The other two were much older, but they were certainly fresh compared to the old warhorses populating Echo's ranks. Only the Kirov was newer.

Even still, it seemed Bask was in an awfully generous mood. Once again, Trent lucked out by showing up right when Bask was planning something big. Hopefully, whatever his plans were would not prove a suicide mission.

"On with other business," said Bask, "Trent, you have been promoted to full Commander."

Trent nearly choked. "Sir?"

"You've been promoted," repeated Bask, annoyed, "Accept it before I change my mind."

"Yessir," blurted Trent, kicking himself mentally for losing composure, "I'm honored."

"Several others in your outfit have promotions as well. Information regarding as such will be sent to you. That should be all. Dismissed."

"Wait," cut in a voice. It was the man in the odd uniform. His presence had been nearly forgotten during the exchange.

"What is it?" snapped an irritated Bask.

"This one," said the man simply, staring wide-eyed, then pointing, directly at Alexandra, "She's perfect."

The Commodore furrowed his brow at the man's words. "Who is this man, and why is he speaking this way about one of my subordinates?"

"Ah, this man," grunted Bask, sounding regretful that he had to acknowledge the existence, "Is Dr. Roger Hodges, one of our head researchers at the Newtype Lab on this colony."

"We're the newest Newtype Lab," beamed Dr. Hodges, "But the Titans have been gracious to bring in the leaders in our field and supply us with ample funding. In short time we will find ourselves the leading Newtype Lab - ahead of the Murasame and Augusta labs, even. We-"

"That's enough," rumbled Bask. Dr. Hodges seemed to shrink a foot or so at that. "Dr. Hodges has insisted that the candidates we've been sending him are insufficient. He's been looking for more suitable candidates. He seems to find the Ensign here perfect."

"'Candidates', sir?" the Commodore rose an eyebrow, though hardly in amusement.

"Yes," replied Bask curtly, "For certain tests and developments, the Gryps Lab needs humans test pilots."

"Ah, you mean the Cyber Newtype soldiers," murmured the older man, "The new breed of soldiers the Newtype Labs have developed. I hear the process has yet to be perfected, and the results are still flawed."

"No doubt," came Bask's casual reply, "This man has first-hand experience in the evolution of this process. He helped put candidates through the process at Augusta Lab. And you will refer to me as 'sir'."

"The candidate conditioning process has been greatly improved, too," chimed in Dr. Hodges, "We've had fewer fatalities since we started, and the chances of incapacitating them-"

"That's enough," came Bask's rumbling voice, once again cutting the scientist off.

"I think we are done here, sir," was all the Commodore had to say, "We will be present tomorrow morning."

Bask gave no verbal reply. He simply nodded to some security personnel, who led all four outside.

OOC: Alright, Titans, commence the RPing ;)
Last edited by Cardi Doorl on Sat Mar 24, 2007 1:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
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- Gryps 1 Colony Interior-
- Titans Officer Club -


Lieutenant Jonas 'Stubbs' Brown sat back in his booth and watched the other young officers. He wore a flight suit, not one of the pressure suits of a mobile suit or space pilot, but that would have belonged to an atmospheric fighter pilot. He was old for a lieutenant, but being passed around the different services like currency did have a negative effect on his ability to climb the ranks. He lifted his beer and took a drink.

When he finished his beer, he looked down at the folder he had brought with him, it had information on his team. They had been together for a couple weeks. McMullen, Lepak, and Pendragon. From what he had seen, Pendragon was going to be his main problem. 'Kid has a chip on his shoulder the size of a colony. Wants to get out of daddy's shadow.' He glanced up as he saw more pilots walk in. Having been around pilots for nearly 12 years, he could tell who were pilots and who weren't.
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Gryps 1, Titans Officer Club, North Wing

"Point! Left side wins."

Gilliarme smiled, pulling back, removing his rapier point from his opponent's chest and the opponent's overextended rapier arm from underneath his left arm, and bowed courteously. If there was only one thing in this world Gilliarme Lasalle did well, it was fencing, and before joining the Federal Forces, before encountering the scandal and conspiracy that had fueled the initial hatred of the Principality of Zeon as his motivation, Gilliarme had all but dedicated his life's free time towards it. Requiring sharp focus, finesse and grace, and great agility, fencing as a hobby was a win-win situation, especially when Gilliarme decided to further complement those skills with martial arts training; There was nothing wrong with taking it up, and it helped him both relax and stay focused and honed at the same time.

And even now Gilliarme would never give that talent away. He had to admit that if nothing else, Gryps 1 was very well-equipped, catering to everything a Titan needs as a base of operations. The same went for its Officers' Club, and he was immediately thankful for it. Even Gilliarme Lasalle needed to relax some time or another.

Walking towards the left oak wall of the large, elaborately designed fencing hall of the Officers' Club, Gilliarme removed his fencing visor, took a deep breath, and threw it gently onto his duffel bag sitting nearby. Immediately, as current events sank back in, Gilliarme Lasalle's smile faded, his eyes trailing to the letter (written the old-fashioned way, as the Lasalle family preferred their mail) sitting at the bag's side pocket.

Not all mail received from the Titans orderlies had good news. Gilliarme frowned as he removed his fencing suit; When in the Titans, Gilliarme frequently got monthly letters from his 9-year-old daughter, Ellen, and she wasn't due to write another letter until at least two weeks later; rarely, Gilliarme receives a letter from his uncle Charlemagne, and even rarer still, from one of his siblings --- and rarest of them all, from his youngest sister, Nadine (a worrywort in all but name, Gilliarme had mused once). Whenever Nadine wrote, it wasn't good news at all.

Charlemagne had died from Leukemia. Just great. It was the same disease that had taken--- Non, Gilliarme stopped himself before that thought developed any further. ...Non. You promised her you wouldn't mourn anymore for Ellen's sake, Gilliarme, you big sentimental fool...You and Winnie had expected that day for years, and made the best of what was left. Let it go.

The letter was from Nadine.

It wasn't that Gilliarme in particular felt anything for Charlemagne other than a small sense of losing family. It wasn't that at all; Gilliarme never liked his uncle much, even after Charlemagne took over as CEO of the Lasalle Foundation after his father died. Charlemagne was, in his subtle way, too Machiavellian for his own good, and far too stubborn to change, but if nothing else, Gilliarme had to begrudge his uncle that, he was talented and sensible. He knew to avoid stepping on all the wrong toes, and at the very least had thriving the Foundation as his first priority. And most important of all, Charlemagne knew to avoid taking sides in a war.

His three brothers, on the other hand, were talented but were anything but sensible. Especially his elder brother, Morgan, who according to Nadine's letter became the new CEO after Charlemagne's death a week ago.

The problem was that Morgan was, quite notoriously, an AEUG supporter, carried over long after graduation from Von Braun University with Masters' Degrees in General Business, Business Administration and Telecommunications.

He lifted his duffel bag to his shoulder, dropped off the fencing suit at the counter on the way out, and frowned as he walked along the hallway. There was nothing wrong with being an AEUG sympathizer. Heck, even though he firmly believed that the Titans were not completely beyond redemption yet, Gilliarme didn't blame Morgan at all for supporting the AEUG's actions, after all the mistakes the Titans had made earlier. Unfortunately, Gilliarme had not been happy to realize, had Morgan been more sensible he would've placed the company's well-being above his personal dislikes, or at least kept his mouth shut about how he felt towards the AEUG and Karaba.

All this meant that sooner or later (and knowing Morgan, likely sooner), the Lasalle Foundation would find itself openly backing the AEUG and Karaba in finances and, Gilliarme hoped otherwise, Mobile Suit construction resources. And that, should the AEUG lose, would mean the end of the Lasalle Foundation altogether; Morgan had effectively endangered every single employee in the Lasalle Foundation, including Gilliarme's daughter Ellen, by taking a side. The alliances his father and uncle had made with the Buffo Conzern to protect both their interests would only protect Morgan for so long. Gilliarme shook his head. Why couldn't his brothers be more sensible about the times? Personally I wouldn't blame you; If I had been more sensible myself early on, I would've done what you had, perhaps. But you're going to bring an end to father's company doing this, Morgan, unless we lost...and worse, you're putting Ellen in danger.

There was no use dwelling on it other than hoping Morgan would prove smarter than Gilliarme had known him to be, and determined not to mull on the matter anymore, Gilliarme glanced around. Shin was probably in here as well, but what about Samantha? Being demoted the way she was, Gilliarme wasn't sure she would be allowed in. Gilliarme hoped it wouldn't be the case; Demotion or not, Samantha Fulton really was a Lieutenant at heart...
Last edited by Cybaster on Thu Sep 13, 2007 2:18 pm, edited 5 times in total.
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Nick was in a foul mood, to say the least.

He didn't have any explosive outbursts, but everyone felt it was better to keep a wider bearth of Nick then usual. Most just assumed it was because they were leaving Edward high-and-dry.

They were half-right.

Weeks, maybe months of planning down the f**king tube! Subtle manipulations that left no trail back to me suddenly useless! All that and a friend lost for NOTHING!!!!

The official promotion to full Lt. wasn't much of a concilation, other then he could spit in Wolf's face literally now instead of just figurativly and nothing would happen.

So he spent a lot of time avoiding people, even Ed until they docked. He was now going over the file of his new subordinate for Gamma team.

Another coffin-dodger; literally.

Like many mobile suit pilots, he was somewhat scornful of tank divisions due to their inability to go one-on-one with a mobile suit piloted by a semi-competant pilot. And like most, he failed to realize that tanks always did their best work in numbers.

Ex-criminal doing time, prevented from promotions by being an even bigger prick then me, blah blah blah, suppose I'll have to meet him.

Rather then seeking the man out, however, he simply went to the Officer's Club, only to see Gilliarme on his way out.

"Getting back from a workout, Rearliner? I thought you'd be making more 'Let's Make Peace Not War' slogans in your cabin...."

Nick stopped, giving a queer look at Gilliarme, who was glancing down at a letter and had a...dissapointedly sad look in his eyes.

Nick was rightfully considered an insightful person; he could tell what a person was feeling (if not why) with just a casual observance. So he knew that Gilliarme was in a somewhat depressive mood.

Shrugging his shoulders and deciding it was none of his buisness, he walked on by, noticeably stepping aside so he didn't brush shoulders with the man.

A very feminine 'A-hem' stopped him dead in his tracks.

Bella, you BETTER be kidding me.

A giggle was his only 'response'.

Gritting his death, Nick threw his head over his shoulder.

"I don't suppose you fence, Rearliner?"

The question was a challenge as much as it was an invitation.
I mean when you spend precious seconds to give an "All Your Nukes Are Belong To Us" speech before you even start the Gundam up, you know you're too overzealous for your own good.~wza
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Shin is sitting in his quarters thinking about what he is going to do in the next battle but he eventually stands up and walks out and goes into the Officer's club and gets a drink before sitting down at a empty table but he doesn't notice Lt. Gilliarme in there also.
US Army Infantryman's creed wrote:In the race for victory, I am swift, determined, and courageous; Armed with a fierce will to win. Never will I fail my country's trust. Always I fight on: through the foe, to the objective, to triumph over all. If necessary, I fight to my death
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Nick's sudden change from hostile mocking to as polite an invitation as Nick Te'litha himself can make caught Gilliarme off-guard momentarily, causing him to look back up away from Nadine's letter and turn towards his colleague with a blink. What exactly brought that on? It was as if Nick's attitude turned around considerably in mere seconds, something which most normal people do not do (then again, Nick and Gilliarme hardly classify as normal, probably). There was something unsaid about Nick, and one could only hope it won't affect Echo negatively in the field.

Nonetheless, Nick was offering to spar, and it had been as friendly as he's seen Nick Te'litha been since his assignment to Taskforce Echo.

Why refuse his hospitality?

"Oui, frontliner. A little here and there." Gilliarme answered, this time his voice with far less rebuke or disdain than before. "I was just leaving, but if you wish I shall gladly join you, Lieutenant Te'litha. Shall we?"
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"No, No, No" Dante yelled as he yet again failed in his simulation. "Why can't I dodge this attack?" he continued to yell. He had set up a simulation where an enemy Nemo fired a volley of seven shots at his Marasai, two on each side, one over the top and one underneath his suit and one more right through the center. Everytime he would be blown up by one of the beams. Dante sighed. "Round 13" he said as he fired up the simulation again. The Nemo spawned and fired the volley at him. Dante watched as the beams seemed to box his Marasai, then the kill shot headed his way. "Ok, two to the left and right, one above and below, plus this center shot, lets try this". Dante turned his shielded arm toward the Nemo's fire and charged, the beam destroyed his shield but he was close enough to blow the Nemo up. He had figured out away to survive that onslaught and he was pumped.
Good old Thundermuffin
LUNA: Shinn, try not to go all over-the-top this time.
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Constantine Pendragon, youngest son of the Pendragon, is not a happy person. A mere month and a half ago, he was assigned to the Harekles at its creation and is the youngest, most junior person in the team. Of course, this had taken some getting used to, since one of his pedigree is not used to being the low man of ANY totem pole. Unlike most of his peers of similar backgrounds, he treats it more as a humbling learning experience. No, what has him so unhappy about was the fact that throughout his training and previous assignments, all his teachers and commanders and all his fellow classmates and teammates want from him is his name and the get the favor of his family for their own ends, paying no heed to his skill. His new ‘teammates’ are probably no different.

Luckily, the buzz around Gryps is that something huge is on the horizon. Raider Taskforces from all over the Earth Sphere are gathering at this very Colony, and what ever it is, this is where Constantine Pendragon will prove that he is more than merely a spoiled rich boy from Earth.



If Love is the answer, could you please rephrase the question?
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Alex Lepak jsut got out of his 5th simulation battle since he was transfered to the Harekles about one month ago from Earth. Although he is becoming a relatively skilled pilot he is still unsure of his own skills and prowess. He is somewhat shy showing his full skills in case someone gets jelous of him. Alex is hoping he can make the higher-ups of his ship happy in battle, as he expects the same of his teammates.

He has recently heard from other members of the ship that Gryps is being visited by many Raider Taskforces from earth. Puzzled, Alex goes to the common quarters to ask around aobut whats happening. Hopefully a battle with the AEUG is not on the horizon.
"This is no Zaku boy! No Zaku!!!"
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- Gryps 1 -
- Slums -


Awakened by a car honking outside, the young boy of about 15 woke up with a groan, running a hand through his unkempt mess of greasy green hair. Through groggy eyes, he glanced around his dingy fourth-floor, one-room flat. It was populated only by the floor mat on which he slept, a battered TV in front of a sagging couch, and a neglected kitchenette. The lock on his door was broken, but there was nothing for anybody to steal anyway.

He was late for classes at his high school, but he'd been absent so many times he scarcely noticed. The only reason he ever attended school was to catch up on the latest news from classmates who claimed they had the latest scoop on whatever anti-Federal movement was idolized that day, be it the AEUG, some scrappy Zeon remnant guerrillas, or an unrelated rebel group. It's unlikely that many, if any, were telling the truth. That hardly stopped them.

The boy in question had begun to write off his classmates as posers anyway. They were all talk, babbling about Federation lies and the latest bootleg videos of Titan atrocities they'd come across. They, as far as Gedley Shims cared, didn't really know what they were talking about. The irony, of course, was that he wasn't much different. He, like his classmates in one of the poorest, most run-down schools in Gryps, resented Earthnoids automatically, taking it as a given that all Earthnoids were by default wealthy 'elites'. The Federation, to them, was a paragon of corruption and lies and anyone who opposed them, be it Zeon or AEUG or anyone, was automatically virtuous, regardless of their methods. They were at that age where they thought in such black-and-white, one-sided extremes; where they claimed to revere free thought and logical debate but were in fact the epitome of bigotry and bias, conclusion-jumping and assumptions treated as fact, and shouting slogans and catchphrases in place of well-reasoned arguments. The only difference they had from a Titan cadet was that they mindlessly favored anybody who shot at Federal uniforms, rather than the other way around. The AEUG was especially popular among the students, ever since the incident back in March, right her in their very own colony.

That's all beside the point. What mattered was that Gedley believed his classmates were all talk. Gedley had come into contact with some men in blue uniforms with links to the AEUG. Gedley wanted to take the fight right to the Titans, and offered his services. They'd told him exactly how he could help AEUG bring down the Titans.

And today was his day. A number of taskforces full of those bastards were docked right here at this colony. Apparently they were gearing up for something big. Gedley's mission was crucial for interrupting it.

He didn't bother with breakfast. He never did, even those rare times when he had enough food to spare. He slipped into his ragged jeans and black hooded sweatshirt - so faded it looked more gray than black. Along with his worn-at-the-toes sneakers, this comprised the only set of clothes he had left that were suitable for wearing in public. Money had been nonexistent since he'd run away from home in April. His parents had never really tried to get him to come back. They probably hadn't had enough time between their constant arguments and screaming matches to even notice his disappearance. That suited Gedley just fine. He'd always hated them. He hated only the Titans more.

Shouldering the beaten and faded red backpack, so critical for his important mission, over his shoulder, Gedley stepped out of his flat and made his way downstairs.

Titans are Earthnoids, his mind murmured, Earthnoids are the arrogant elites. The elites have a natural-born desire to oppress the colonists and crush our dreams. The only way to deal with these monsters is to rid of them... He repeated this, in bits and pieces, silently, like a broken mantra.

Gedley Shims was on a mission from AEUG. He would help destroy the Earthnoids, responsible for every hardship suffered by every Spacenoid.
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- Alexandria-class Kirov -
- Leandro Alvarez's Quarters -


Erebus sat in silence on the lone chair in Leandro's room, staring at the floor while Leandro himself bawled away on his bed.

Leandro had insisted on opening and reading, before the duo hit the bars, one letter: the one from his girlfriend on Earth, Ana. Her letter was short and to the point; it was a "Dear John" letter, and notification that he wouldn't be hearing from her ever again, as she was moving north to the North American mainland.

"How could she...?" sobbed Leandro pathetically, "How could she...? She and I, we've been together since high school, and now she does this? Why? I thought she loved me, you know?"

Erebus remained silent as the grave. The 'exchange', as it was, remained as such for a solid twenty minutes before Leandro quieted down. The two remained silent for a long while. Then Leandro furrowed his brow and declared, "You know what? Screw her. She stabbed me in the back after I stayed with her for all those years, but I'm not gonna let that get me down. Let's go to town and hit those bars, buddy."

Erebus smirked. "That's more like you, Leandro. Let's burn this town to the ground."

Leandro laughed. "Plenty of girlies in the Earth sphere. Why should I complain because one of 'em wasn't sensible to stick with someone good. I'll find one with sense in her head soon enough." With a boisterous laugh, he was out the door and down the corridor, Erebus following closely. He intended to hit a local bar downtown rather than an officers' club; he'd have a little more room to be rowdy that way.

* * *

- Gryps 1 Colonial Harbor -

Mercedes and Alexandra were dismissed from the Commodore's side once they reached the harbor. As the Commodore walked off with Trent, Mercedes leaned against a nearby railing, betraying something other than rigid military for the first time in a long while.

After a moment, her grinned only slightly as she said to Alexandra, "That Dr. Hodges thought so highly of you Alexi. You must be flattered, little princess you are."

Alexandra made a show of an exasperated sigh. "Someone's jealous," she retorted tongue-in-cheek.

"Oh yes, Alexi, I'd just die to become one of those Cyber Newtype freaks I've heard about."

"Oh, shut up," groaned Alexandra, "That bastard put me on edge, the way he was looking at me like he wanted to strip me down and mess with my brain right there in Bask Om's office. I hated him on sight. I can't believe we give money to men like that."

"Of course," agreed Mercedes, "The problem is that Admiral Jamitov allows a commoner like Bask Om free hand to conduct the day-to-day dealings of the Titans."

Alexandra sighed. "Too many commoners pollute our ranks. The brass doesn't realize that all Earthnoids are not created equal."

"Because they themselves are little more than bumbling old men who have done nothing but become complacent since our war against the Zeon. Father will change that one day. For now, though, we should get something to eat. Wolf will probably meet us at the local officers' club."

Alexandra smirked. "I was thinking the same thing."
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RGM-79G GM Command
Posts: 353
Joined: Thu Jul 20, 2006 12:22 pm
Location: RGM-89J Jegan cockpit.

Ryo was sitting in the officer club away from the other officers drinking a bottle of beer and thinking about what he was going to do when they next fought the AEUG too make up for his failures in the battles so far. "I guess I'm not used to piloting Mobile Suits anymore. Well I'll need to practice once we get back on the ship, can't hold everyone back like this." Ryo thinks to himself, before finishing his beer and walking out of the officers club he then begins walking around to see what it is like on Gryps 1.
Thundermuffin's TEGSD: MEYRIN: Ma’am! The Archangel has arrived and launched a giant, man-shaped robot at us! Likelihood of it being a mobile-suit… (Meyrin does some quick calculations on her console)…ninety-nine point eight percent!
ARTHUR: Good God, that’s almost a hundred-percent!
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Gambit01
Posts: 335
Joined: Tue Mar 07, 2006 9:00 pm
Location: Behind you......

Please say no, please say no, please say no

"Oui, frontliner. A little here and there." Gilliarme answered, this time his voice with far less rebuke or disdain than before. "I was just leaving, but if you wish I shall gladly join you, Lieutenant Te'litha. Shall we?"

Damn

Disguising his disapointment with a confident smirk, he gave a little bow that was, truth be told, only half mocking.

"I'll see you on the 'field' then, rearliner."

Nick turned and entered the Officer's Club, heading to the locker room and getting changed.

What am I doing?! Comforting the bastard, getting his mind of his problems? This isn't LIKE me!

Neither is making friends, but you made an exception with Ed. You always did like to go to people who would give you all their sympathy.


Nick froze; this last voice was hardly a conscience; it was hard, derisive, and menacing. It wasn't the first time he heard it since this crazy adventure began, and it was more then starting to scare Nick.

Shaking his head, he finished changing and walked out to the fencing area, mask carried under his arm. He decided to test out a few foils while waiting for Gilliarme.
I mean when you spend precious seconds to give an "All Your Nukes Are Belong To Us" speech before you even start the Gundam up, you know you're too overzealous for your own good.~wza
Agent Fisher
Posts: 22
Joined: Sun Mar 04, 2007 9:44 pm

Jonas finished his beer and laid the empty glass on the booth. He stood up and headed towards the door. This O-Club was too high class for his taste. He was a fighter pilot, not a prissy rich kid from Earth. Once he left, he dropped his folder off in the temp housing barracks. He changed out of his old flight suit and put on normal clothes and his flight jacket, with insignia from every unit, the largest being the patch from the 99th Pursuit Squadron, his first unit and the one where he earned his first kills.

He reached the gate of the base and passed through, heading in search of a bar.
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Bezerker
Posts: 118
Joined: Thu Jun 01, 2006 9:29 pm
Location: The Aegis

Dante felt pretty good about finally finding a way to combat the massive beam fire that Nemo had put out. He felt that he had enough skill now to take on that rapid fire Nemo, as well as the melee Nemo. He climbed out of his simulator and stretched out. "Four hours in one simulator, I'd say I deserve a break" he thought as he put his shades on. The ship had docked at Gryps and Dante had stayed aboard to finish his simulations. Dante walked out of the ship and headed for the Harbor. As he walked down the way he noticed Mercedes and Alexandra chatting with each other. "Hello ladies, how are you enjoying your time off the ship?"
Good old Thundermuffin
LUNA: Shinn, try not to go all over-the-top this time.
TALIA: Shinn! Launch and go all over-the-top on Orb's ass!
SHINN: Yes, MAAM!
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Cybaster
Posts: 1422
Joined: Tue Mar 14, 2006 8:28 pm
Location: SANDWIIIIIIIIIIIIIICH!!! *shakes fist*

Nick did not have long to wait. Soon, Gilliarme himself walked out onto the 'field', himself carrying a fencing mask in his left hand and a rapier in his right, and took a single look around for other familiar faces that might've appeared then while stopping approximately ten feet in front of Nick at the center of the fencing hall. It hadn't been too long ago since he had exercised here earlier; Under normal circumstances in a normal swordfight, Nick Te'litha --- newly refreshed --- would have the advantage over a considerably exerted Gilliarme Lasalle. Not that he minded losing in a fencing match, as long as it wasn't in combat, and this was a chance to get to know Nick better, although not necessarily for the better, perhaps.

Plus, fencing wasn't completely about stamina and striking strength.

"Very well," Gilliarme noted and turned to Nick after awhile, sliding the mask over his head, and then took a few moments to balance the hilt of his rapier in his right hand, juggling it very slightly and ensuring his grip. "When you are ready to begin, Lieutenant."
Don't throw the baton, you jacka**!!!
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Cardi Doorl
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Joined: Tue Mar 14, 2006 9:06 pm
Location: 대한민국 대전광역시
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- Alexandria-class Kirov -
- Mobile Suit Bay -


"You're still here?"

The grimy mechanic blinked in surprise when he noticed Ens. Samantha Fulton was still aboard the ship. "Looks like you and that junior-grade Lieutenant from Gamma Team are the only pilots who stuck around."

Samantha continued tinkering around with settings on her Marasai as the mechanic went on. She didn't much care that Ltjg. Diotrephes was also around; he, like too many others, was just another young pup of a pilot anyway, and a member of another team at that. She had no obligation to even feign recognition with him.

She was lucky to be placed in Delta Team, she had to admit that. The other two weren't annoying kids, and had indeed gone through the grinder of the big war. She didn't expect to be pals with them - she'd had more than her fill of that - but at least they weren't cocky screwups with something to prove.

The mechanic, defeated, shook his head, sighed, and pushed off to get back to work.

Samantha had no intention of setting foot in Gryps 1. The last time she'd been on the colony, she'd been the victim of a sham trial followed by the sole occupant of some holdover purgatory. Hardly the kind of place she wanted to remember. She'd been allowed around the Officer's Club in those days, and no doubt still was, but the stigma of her demotion hung over her even more heavily when she was around that crowd. There was no relaxation to be had there.

And besides, there was Massilion Carde...

She'd asked Leandro the name of the man she'd replaced. Ltjg. Massilion Carde. 'Mass', he was called, and sometimes 'Twisty'. Looking up his files, Samantha had seen a mug shot. It was old, but clearly the same man who'd materialized in that dream. That gnawed at the back of her mind ever since seeing him while dozing off. What did it mean? Samantha didn't remotely believe in spirits or ghosts or the like, but she was certain she'd seen, and conversed with, the late pilot she replaced, before she knew his appearance.

A spark snapped her out of her thoughts. Her hands had been flying solo the whole time. Doing minor busywork maintenance like this for eight years did that to you. This time, however, she'd screwed in a part a little too far, messing up an entire panel section. Rookie mistake, but it cleared her mind entirely, and she went back to her tinkering without thoughts of her teammates or Gryps 1 or Massilion Carde.

* * *

- Colonial Harbor -

A voice came from behind just as the two were setting off.

"Hello ladies, how are you enjoying your time off the ship?"

It was that orange-glasses-wearing screwup from Gamma Team, Dante Diotrephes. Mercedes' initial instinct was to give him the cold shoulder, rank seniority be damned, but she changed her mind right before she took action. Somewhere in her mind, she smirked.

"It's been wonderful, sir," she replied pleasantly, "We met none other than Bask Om face-to-face not long ago, if you can believe it. This bunch has wonderful scenery for a colony - it can't compete with Earth herself, of course, but it puts up an admirable effort.

"In any case, we thought we might meet my brother at the Officer's Club, then see what else this metal tube has to offer. Care to accompany us, Lieutenant?"
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Cardi Doorl
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Location: 대한민국 대전광역시
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- Downtown -
- The Thirsty Dog Bar -


It wasn't much of a place - the kind of bar that would be described as a 'dive'. It was popular among servicemen stationed on Gryps who either couldn't get into the Officers' Club or much preferred this rowdier atmosphere. Many Titans, mostly from the lower ranks who performed lower tasks, milled about inside the bar, and on the sidewalk just outside, too.

"Ah," nodded Erebus, nursing a mug of beer he'd only sipped a few times since buying it ten minutes ago, "You downed a Nemo during the drop operation?"

"Sure did," said Leandro. It was said matter-of-factly rather than boastfully.

Erebus sipped his beer thoughtfully and replied, "Well, that means you have four kills now, doesn't it?"

Leandro blinked, then thought about it. "Yeah, think so. One kill off from being a bona fide ace, then."

Erebus chuckled. "I always remind you of that, and now you forget until I bring it up?"

Leandro feigned sheepishness. "Well, I'm not trying to be the next Red Comet or anything."

They shared a laugh and grew quiet for a short while. Erebus broke the silence: "I've been thinking, Leandro."


"Yeah? Finally got the words?"

"I thought about why I'm in the military, you know?"

"M-hm."

"I mean, all this was because my mom died, and I wanted to lash out at somebody. I was just a street punk, you know? Didn't even know how to think. Just knew how to be angry.

"All my life, it was just me and my mom, there in the poorest, toughest streets on the island. I told you about this before, about how I had to fight and steal all the time just to scrape by. Honest business never lasted in those parts, except fishermen, sometimes. Got worse when we were fighting the Zeons, what with food harder to come by. Other than that, life just went on, same as always. Just had to fight harder.

"And then I come home one night and I don't find my mom there like she usually was. I mean, she was almost always there, crying her eyes out because I was out late every night doing crazy s**t for bits of food. But this time she wasn't, and that was the first time I realized I cared about someone other than my own damn self.

"That was in October, and I didn't find out what happened to her till the war was almost over. More than three months without knowing! Some Zeon sub apparently surfaced right under her fishing boat. Accident? Sadistic bastard? Why it happened we'll probably never know. But I didn't know how to think back then, so I blamed everything on the Zeons like every last one of them had come together and planned her death.

"I've been running on that punk hate for years now, Leandro, and only just now thought about it. And I wondered if I really wanted to live the rest of my life fighting for a revenge that might not be needed. Over a murder that might not've been a murder. And really, all these people I'm fighting; what did they have to do with it? I realize I'm insulting my mom by fighting for no reason but blind anger, like some little kid.

"Guess what I'm trying to say is I'm not in the place I really belong. I'm not supposed to be a soldier, Leandro."

Leandro sipped his beer and mused on that. Neither he nor Erebus were exactly scholars. A man more well-versed in the spoken word would probably have said what Erebus said in a more concise, insightful manner, but for someone of Erebus' mindset and caliber it was practically a masterpiece. For an audience as easy as Leandro, it was stunning.

"Wow," was all Leandro could say once his mug was back on the counter, "You changed a hell of a lot, man. Before you went to Earth, you were all fire and jonesing to shoot the Zeons. Now..."
"Now I'm seeing a little clearer."

"You gonna quit the military?"

"Yeah. When my term's up I'll resign. I'll ride out the rest."

After another pull from his mug, Leandro asked, "Then what?"

"Don't know. To be honest, I really don't know where I'll go after that. I guess I'll keep surviving like I did before I joined up. I'll just do that until I find where I belong."

"Good luck with that, friend," said Leandro with a grin, "You'll find something."

"What about you, Leandro?"

"You know I was born to be a soldier, man. It's everything I knew growing up. It's what I always dreamed of. I'm comfortable here. We're just different on that. Doesn't make you anything less, you know?"

"But why the Titans, Leandro? What was wrong with sticking around the regulars?"

"What kind of question's that? The Titans are an elite unit, so getting invited was too big an honor to pass up. And after all, the EFSF unit I was in was full of a**holes, so I thought I'd have nothing to lose in that department."

Erebus chuckled at that last bit. "Well, soldiering's where you belong, I guess. We'll stay in touch, man."

"You're acting like you already left the military."

Erebus laughed. "In my mind, I left a week ago. Just have to wait for my body, and the paperwork, to catch up."

"Let's drink to your retirement from the military then, old pal."

"I can drink to that. Barman, another round."

- Downtown Streets -

Clutching the backpack straps at his shoulder and keeping his head low, Gedley walked through the streets of downtown Gryps 1. He took circuitous routes around policemen and anyone in military uniform, and didn't make eye contact with anyone. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself before he executed his mission.
Last edited by Cardi Doorl on Fri Mar 16, 2007 1:11 am, edited 2 times in total.
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