Jump to content

Replicator

Member
  • Content Count

    36
  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won

    3

Everything posted by Replicator

  1. Norman Reid Biography Full name: Norman Jonathan Reid Faction: Colony 30 Militia (EFF Rogue) Rank: Impromptu Militia pilot, unofficial and unranked. Age: 36 years old Sex: Male Weight: 72kg Height: 1,81m Eyes: Hazel pupils, no contacts. Hair: Wheat-colored, undyed. Skin: Fair skin Handiness: Left-handed Personality Very mature and fairly reserved, Norman is a person of routines, who likes to have his day planned out, and feels frustrated whenever inconveniences spring up, but always finds a way not to let them have the last laugh. Conflict absent from his nature, he was always cautious not to let opinions, political or otherwise, create rifts between his team, and acted in a highly diplomatic manner, while following orders from his higher-ups, no matter if he had a better idea. His attitude towards life means he simply cannot understand the human cravings for war, but it hasn’t stopped him from helping the Federation make mobile weapons in the past in exchange for a stable salary. Strengths and weaknesses As one of the designers of the GM lineage during the One Year War, and a former Mobile Suit test pilot, he knows very well how to pilot his machine, its specifications and what it's capable of. His movement has been very well honed due to his experience with rigurous, constant testing, but he doesn’t fare so well in the combat department, having not been in a real battle before. As such, he can dodge a surprising amount of shots, but so can his enemy, provided the onboard computer (which does most of the aiming) can't read their movements. Appearance A slim and blonde man, Norman used to be seen frequently in a white lab coat, but after his discharge, he prefers to wear a blue suit and tie with a white shirt. He also frequently uses a pair of frameless glasses for reading text up close. Said glasses are usually absent in a Mobile Suit, being as the screens of the machines are far from the pilots and show their text on a big enough font for most eyes. History Born a Colony 30 local in September the 23rd of UC 0049, he was thirty years old when the One Year War hit. Until then, he had been kept busy with study, graduating from high school with top qualifications in the areas pertaining to exact sciences and engineering. He spent seven years becoming a robotics engineer, graduating at age twenty-five and studying the case of Munzo's, then Zeon's mobile inventions, used in Federation territories as construction equipment. These efforts landed him a spot in a Federation mobile research team when the first unofficial battles between Zeon and the Federation took place, in which the former unleashed the wrath of the Zaku I, and later the Zaku II upon Federation Guntanks and Guncannons before the One Year War. His team would go on to design the V Project Mobile Suits for the Federation to build at Side 7 during the war. Upon the apparent success of the first operative prototype to enter battle, the famed Gundam, the remainder of Side Seven's researchers joined up with those of Colony 30 in Side 1. The resulting research team was split on a group that would be following the progress of Gundam and its support units, while the other half, comprised of lesser members such as himself, would go on to optimize the Gundam's design for mass production with the data provided by the tracking group. Reid became a key member of the GM Development Program, participating in field tests of the original model and variants like the GM Command and GM Custom, accompanying the pilot or even piloting the units himself. When the One Year War reached its end, he kept working with the Federation for some time, and would have become a part of the GM Quel and GM II development projects, had he not been put aside for evaluation when television cameras filmed him in the background of an anti-Titans protest in the main street, where he was walking on a purely coincidental manner. Fearing that the protesters were right after he saw MPs beating them, he submitted his resignation, then an application for a similar job at Anaheim Electronics, but before a reply could come in, Colony 30 rose up in protest against the Titans, and the Earth Federation. To make an example out of them, Commander-in-Chief of the Titans Bask Om decided to use nerve gas on the whole colony to suppress the riots. The information somehow leaked over to the local Federation garrison, the Colony 30 Defense Corps, which decided to sortie in their outdated Mobile Suits to try and save the colony from a small team of Titans that were hoping to infiltrate the colony in a silent manner, and attack by surprise. However, they were found in time by the Corps, which despite the anti-Federation riot inside fought the enemy Mobile Suits as well as they could. All but four of the Corps members were killed in the skirmish, while of the four-man formation of the Titans, only their squadron leader survived, along with his Galbaldy Beta. The colony had bought themselves some time before the Titans returned in utter seriousness, and finished them, so the administrative authorities of the colony started evacuating their citizens via space launches headed to other colonies. However, without somebody to escort them, they would be easily swatted down not if, but when the Titans came back. Spare units were available, but aside from the three surviving Corps members, only a single pilot survived, whose unit’s destruction was surprisingly non-fatal. Desperate to ready as many units as they could, they ordered their mechanics to prep the spare Mobile Suits, and organized a militia, recruiting Mobile Worker and Mobile Pod pilots, but the closest they could find to a qualified Mobile Suit pilot was one of the minds behind the machines they piloted, whose motives to get in the cockpit and to defend the space launches was the best friend of his lifetime, as she would be getting in one, and to eventually build the courage to speak to her about moving their relationship a step further would be in vain, were she to die in that colony... Possessions Norman owns: M71A1 Pistol: An old standard issue pistol for the Earth Federation Forces, one of the first ever made of the model, that has survived the passing of time thanks to a local armorer’s careful and skillful maintenance, and has now fallen in the hands of Reid after enlisting himself with the Colony 30 Militia to defend his home. It has been given a wooden grip to counter the weariness of the polymer frame around the magazine. RGM-79G GM Command: One of the spare Mobile Suits of the Colony 30 Defense Corps, it was given orange details and accents to differentiate it from similar Mobile Suits still answering to the Earth Federation. It answers to the number five, as its pilot was put immediately after the four ex-Federation pilots on the squadron order, being the most experienced among the rest of the recruits of the militia but still unable to compare to them. Kills None Roleplays - Mobile Suit Gundam: Consequences of the Future [In Progress] Coliseum battles - None ---
  2. Getting out of the Captain's living quarters with Shiro’s file and a clenched fist, Nicky floated to the cargo bay, where he got himself two red wrenches to slip into the sleeves of his jade-colored jacket, and approached a remnant of his friends in the AEUG's green Salamis: Nelson Astley, a chubby engineer who liked to collect military plastic models back in Earth, living with the elite before his parents kicked him out and he joined the AEUG in retaliation. Nelson had photographic memory, and while he didn't remember the name of the guy legally in charge of the maintenance reports, he did tell him about a guy with messy hair and a bandana keeping the upper part in place, dressed with a green military jacket. Dining with his friends in the cafeteria. Bingo. He made his way there, and surely enough, he found a posse of young adults, crammed in a single table and carelessly laughing at each other's jokes. He could hear what they said as he calmly floated to his table. "Heard we're gonna have to tow that GM all the way to wherever we're going." Said the bandana-wearer, apparently the leader of the pack, eating the last of his fries. He was bigger than what Nelson had said... "The one that ate shit?" The fat one opposite him stopped sipping his drink after the fizzy liquid had gone past the half mark, then left the plastic vase in its hole while reaching for an unfinished heart-stopping, triple-decked burger. "Dead weight. We could get there faster if we left the thing floating around space or something. It’s not even worth scrapping, not to us anyway." You’re another definition of dead weight... "Literally dead. Fucking Zeeks punched a hole through the torso. We're lucky they don’t try to bring that shit near the bay. You know, i completely pity the poor bastard who gets assigned the job of opening that thing once we get there. Must reek of fried burgers in there." The careless alpha-male laughed, along with his friends. One of them was drinking from another plastic vase when the black humor kicked in, and his nose fired the soda back into the table, along with an extra something, before he was forced to get out of the table and go to the bathroom, holding his face on pain and cursing at the air while the ones next to him were understandably grossed out by the sight of what seemed to be a blob of not-ketchup floating next to their bread. "Then..." Cleaning up the blood next to his brother’s sandwich so he could munch on it like nothing had happened at all, another one of them replied, clad in a green engineer’s jumpsuit. "We should get one of the new captain’s Feddie lackeys to start doing the dirty jobs here. The ex-Titans fucker walking around in the black jacket sounds like a good start." Nick didn’t give them any more time, and without a greeting, he began building his relentless offense. His hand threw Shiro’s file in the table, exactly in front of the culprit and just like his commander had done a few minutes ago. But it fell much more heavily this time, with an audible thump. "You know, you’re talking mad stuff, for the shithead responsible of killing a perfectly good soldier." His eyes open with disbelief, the green jacket turned around and looked at him. "The fuck you said to me, you little shit?" He asked, adding a lot of emphasis to the second word. Nicky was already scared shitless, and had to constantly remind himself not to show it to everyone present, not to run away, that everything was under control. We’ve been here before. You can time it right this time... "Of course, i did kill him." Nick continued. "But it was your fault too. You see, your name is probably somewhere in a piece of paper in Von Braun, a piece of paper that says you get paid for doing a job you’re currently NOT. Namely, doing the final check-up on every Mobile Suit." "And what do you know about little Eddie over there?" Said the jumpsuit guy, having finished his own Ham and Cheese Long. "I tend to read about the people i kill", Nicky jokingly added. "Edward Shiro was with this organization from the very beginning, because he was a man of outstanding morals, not like a group of people i’m currently staring at." Looking at the big man in the bandana, he could see him gritting his teeth. "He had two daughters, which means he was capable of maintaining much more than you ever will, even without your fancy toolbox. And he has left behind a wife. He seems to have been somebody a woman could get to love. Unlike your sorry behind." The gang replied with typical teenager behavior: "Ooooo"ing. The universal way to add gasoline to a fire you want to make sure will be there for one to watch the world burn. Their leader was an imbecile, but he could take a hint, and so he crepitated his knuckles, getting up from his seat. "Some fucking sorry ass excuse of a manlet is forgetting his place here, and i’m about to send his pretty face where it belongs… the infirmary." "Why not the showers? My new camera could use with the practice!" A fourth voice joined the fray with another joke, which made all of them laugh again, innocently enough to convince Nick that they hadn’t gotten ever before to that extent, nor would they get to anyways. He ignored the joker with the shiny black SQNY video camera, and made his final approach, to make sure all cards would be stacked in his favor against the alleged chief maintenance "worker" of the ship. "Funny of you to say. You’re failed a spot check in that confidence of yours. You see, that guy, that good man? He died covering me so i could get back to the ship. Because i was out of combat. Because my bullshit Mobile Suit sortied without giving me a single warning that it had been put in the wrong configuration. And it wasn’t entirely its job. It also was your job to warn me of how the Suit had been used beforehand and the state it was in. That father? That husband? Wasn’t only me and Anaheim. You killed him too. So if you think you actually deserve a place on this ship, you incompetent piece of shit, well… you’re as wrong as the colony gasser in the other Nemo." "Motherfucker!" With an audible yell, the big man finally lost it, having his punch go all the way back, to be launched towards Nicky’s face at terminal speed. With incredible nimbleness, however, all Nicky did in immediate response was to take a mere step back, and watch the fist come to a halt a pair of meters away from his face. He wasn’t one to simply keep dodging, though, so before his opponent could make another move and force him to step back again, he crouched, and one of the red wrenches came out of his right sleeve. He steered away from his rock-hard abs, instead launching it towards a much more harmful area. When the wrench hit his groin, the whole gang covered theirs impulsively, making all kinds of painful grins. Then, to drive the point home, he pulled his left arm back, and the other wrench came out of it too. When the disoriented man tried to look in his direction, it was too late. A solid piece of steel made impact against his nose, and by the noise it made afterwards, the watchers knew that was going to hurt almost as much. Fainting by the sheer amount of pain endured in a question of a few moments, his towering figure fell with his back over one corner of the table, turning it over and sending everyone’s food floating around the room, while he started floating slowly towards the floor, unconsciously grabbing his nose with both hands and leaving behind a trail of blood. With a smug smirk, Nick looked down upon the defeated man. Internally, he couldn't believe it. He had actually pulled it off, and now was feeling invincible. He raised his gaze to Bandana Man's shocked friends, and quickly tried to scare them off a "boo", which didn't work out as well as expected. He would only realize too late that the one that had gone to the bathroom was back, and so he was subdued from behind, thrown to the floor and kicked by the five men that were still standing. It went on for minutes, until one of the cooks got out of the kitchen with a rolling pin in hand, and threatened to beat them all to a mist if they kept making a disturbance in the cafeteria, while Nick was wise to fly away the moment the gang was being distracted by the chef with the killer glare. Not the most beneficial of ways to end the the battle, he reckoned an hour later, as he came out of the nearest men’s restroom with wraps over his own nose and forehead. Their leader wouldn’t get out of bed in a long while, but the five of them were still at loose, looking to return the favor. And Captain Grim was sure to slap him for it next day. Don’t give a piece of crap. The point has been made. That fucker better do what he’s paid to from now on... Only one thing left to do now. Nick set course for the sleeping pods, looking for the pod labeled B7R, and when he found it, he used a key to unlock the door. He briefly leaned inside to leave his e-journal and glasses there, under the watch of an empty receptacle where a CRT screen probably used to be, before it was removed and replaced with the kind of flexible tape one could see in early-morning weekend infomercials back in the colony cylinders. There still seemed to be something there Nick could use to close his eyes, though: a pair of worn headphones and a radio with a broken dial, which probably couldn’t even reach for anything on the emptiness of space, but maybe still played something. Eager, he plugged in the headphones and listened, looking for a musical safe haven he could let himself fall in, and as a happy tune played behind them, a familiar pair of Swedish women indeed welcomed him with the one thing he didn’t know he really needed that night: their voice. "You can dance! You can jive! Having the time of your life!" Yes! Somebody had probably left a number of incredibly dated, but unbelievably good mixtapes running as a makeshift radio station of sorts and plugged all of the bed auxiliary cords to it. Just like in that good old Salamis. Tired, Nick left his shoes in the receptacle under the door and climbed inside, getting cozy under the provided bed sheets and putting on the headphones again, before turning on his journal and typing for ten or twenty minutes straight about his first day of being berated and punched by a gang of incompetent, overpaid crewmen. After that, he turned off the journal and closed his eyes, drifting through the coldness of space as a roll of artificially softened bed sheets. By then, the radio had suffered a serious tone shift, from a cheerful song about happiness, to a sad piano piece over which another woman finished her solo, while he silently cried, alone, to once and for all kill what was left of that horrible day. "Nothing I can say A total eclipse of the heart..." --- OOC: If you thought this post would be good because of how long it is and how much time it cost me - you’re wrong. It's plain old writer's block. Have a good night.
  3. One Week Later "From the hands of the 101th Mobile Suit Team of the Zeon Earth Assault Force's South African branch: Take as much time as you want, but don't let it be because of us. The ten of us have signed this piece of paper as our will to sacrifice ourselves, with the intention to buy this convoy a strong head start. Make use of it and let them reach Axis. Give them their home, and they'll give the Feds their war." The entirety of Port Elizabeth in South Africa stared at the abyss of a clear night sky. An airfield in the outskirts of the city had opened the doors to the biggest hangar, one that was surprisingly big enough for a Gaw attack carrier. While this happened, sentries watched out for anything that looked even remotely like the glow of a GM's composite visor. The silhouette of a man leaned against a railing at the top of the abandoned control tower, glancing briefly at the hangar where the engineers quietly tried to get the main engine to work again (after a failed launch days prior), then lifting his gaze at the skyline of the thriving metropolis. His hands grasped the handle of a nearby ice container to open the door, taking out a beer can to quench the thirst and placate the heat. Condensation formed in the outer walls of the tin cylinder upon contact with the air. A nearby lamp post ocassionally flickered on and washed him in a warm, faint light, only to abandon him a few moments later. It had been a long day, and it would be a long night. Time seemed to be endless after the Axis officer read that letter he had handed him out loud. Erin had told him that it was a secret meant for the officer, that he or anybody else were never to even glance at it. Now, he knew why. He wouldn’t have left if she were ever to tell him. The woman behind him, of whose presence he was unaware, had been through a lot more. After the battle that ended with the lives of all but two of her team members a week ago, their struggle to live another day was all but lost. However, it didn’t turn into much of a disruption for her plans. Leading the Titans away, they would be sure to be too focused in her team for any kind of attempt at investigating the ruins and finding out about the convoy that was en route to Port Elizabeth. After all, ten pilots weren't much when compared to the whole group of Mobile Suit mechanics, workers and soldiers that would reach Axis. They weren't expecting a battle that early, hoping to gain a head start and lead them further, but the two Zeonics and the Zimmad that had come out of that mess were still enough to keep pushing. Enough to keep moving forward. Enough to eat a few more rounds. And so the three carried on, to what they thought would be their bitter end. Not everything had been lost, however. Two days of constant watch later, Lady Luck smiled upon their perseverance one more time, and had them find a remote village where scarce remnants of the ZEAF had gone into hiding after their base was retaken by the Federation. Scared and tired, the vast majority decided to forgive but not forget, carrying on with a calm rural life and a low profile. Five of them did not forgive either, though, secretly mantaining their Mobile Suits, their uniforms and small arms as best as they could, all of it for the day when the Principality would come back for them. Taking some rest at the local inn, she told them about the convoy that was making its way to Port Elizabeth, and so they agreed to repair her Mobile Suits and join her, with the condition that she tried to take them there. The Gouf Custom and Dom Tropen got up better next morning, while the Zaku’s legs were deemed a lost cause after they never turned on again, and replaced with a Magella Attack’s tracks to be given as a Zaku Tank to the greenest of the bunch. They started marching towards Elizabeth, the three of them plus a blue Zogok and a captured GM that had been painted in green camouflage. Yuri kept travelling by her side, but Lyle decided to stay in the village and help them heal their sick, being as their medic had been lost months ago in an unfortunate, violent robbery, and few of them actually risked a walk into the city. In exchange, the Tropen would be given to the leader of the local squad for him to pilot. Erin knew Lyle’s decision wasn’t all about helping the villagers, but also a result of his doubts after Raphael’s death. She would miss him, but she let him stay, as it would be for the best. No point trying to force somebody to fight when motivated pilots were available, and while his skills as a medic weren’t stellar, they were better than nothing at all. Now, Erin was back. The last week had been nothing if not terrifying. Every corner, every bush, every moving object could be a potential sign of a terrible death to come. Every step was a miracle. But that would be no more. She was safe and sound, and ready to go back to her life of eternal grudges and jingoism. Go ahead. You can say it now, you magnificent bastard. Happy to be there again, she let out a smirk and grabbed a beer can too, leaning against the railing, then looking into his astonished eyes. "I'm home..."
  4. Dead...? A GM was destroyed in the battle, and rumors that no capsule was spotted were abundant. But... Slowly, Nick stepped forward and reached for the folder, looking at the papers containing a script of every transmission made during the battle, the desperation that was thinly hidden behind every single word, and Shiro's personal file. Born Edward Benjamin Shiro, forty-one years old. Earth Federation Liutenant and AEUG agent ever since its formation after Colony 30. Husband to Lena Shiro Ferrin. Father to a teen, and a preschooler. Jesus fucking Christ... His right hand shook as it tried to reach for the pair of silver-trimmed glasses, taking them off. Such a sight saddened him profoundly, never mind the fact that he knew part of what Grim said was right: he was partially responsible for the death of a good man. Not only a good pilot. A husband. A father. Growing up in one of Hatte's grittiest colonies, he knew this feeling well. He had seen friends of his cry for the loss of their loved ones. He had seen his cousin cry for the loss of his aunt and uncle when Zeon took the capital colony away. It filled him with impotence, and impotence turned into rage. His left hand briefly clutched in anger, he gently set the folder down upon the table from which it was taken, and now looked at his Commanding Officer, hating him no more, but still full of hate. ''Sir. This will not happen again. I'll make sure of it as soon as i cross that door.'' Nick seemed a little different all of a sudden. He cared not about the enraged Commanding Officer that was more likely to unload another slap on his face than to actually dismiss him, nor the star pilot at his right, riding his high horse even after being backhanded across the face, but about what he was doing to do before getting to the sleeping pods, if only to sleep knowing he had tried his best at least once in that day. Not everything was my fault. Shiro died defending me, because i was defenseless. I was defenseless, because i had sortied in an useless Mobile Suit. I sortied in a useless Mobile Suit, because i did not know it was in that condition, not that it should have. And it was in that condition because somebody carelessly left it that way, even though the rest of the Mobile Suits came ready to use. I didn't know it was like that, because there wasn't a maintenance report over the seat, even though that was someone's responsibility too. For want of two nails, we lost the war. Whoever was responsible for this, i'll find out before the day ends, and i'll give him fucking nails.
  5. Working for the Zeeks. Hmph. If this shit keeps up, sure, I might. What do I have to say for myself? One of the first and most important jobs you're supposed to do is keep spies at bay. Yet Axis knew when and where to find us, on our first day. YOUR incompetence got us into this. I couldn't get to the unit for the most basic of acquaintances before those fucks appeared. There was no status report inside the cockpit warning me of the mode switch, a task too difficult to be done while all of you repelled the Zeeks, nevermind the fact that in an emergency sortie, you don't have time to go through the whole check-up. And even having so few mechanics in the ship, I was assigned to battle in a shoddily-made Mobile Suit of all people. You knew this would happen, and probably even wanted it. You're merely playing with all of us. This is but a game for your amusement, isn't it? Come on, what do YOU have to say for yourself? Because I didn't expect better from you, yet you still managed to disappoint. Nick looked at Grim with accusing eyes, not even gazing at Ryder. As much as they hated each other's guts, he felt this one was all on Grim, regardless of what the other felt. But he knew such thoughts would get him ejected through the airlock in record time. He couldn't simply give anybody in that ship his two cents. Everybody was unknown, and he was still making his white list. So far, only Hiro and the good-hearted cooks had made a good impression on him. The rest, an unknown force. Not to be trusted. Not to ever see behind the shield. So he put on his best poker face and spoke what they wanted to hear from him. "There's no excuse. This incident is completely on my shoulders. It will not happen again." I won't let you make it happen again.
  6. Ever since getting back on the ship, Nick would spend the whole of his time trying to get the Training Nemo into working condition. As much as he wanted to blame it on Anaheim's rapid manufacturing, certainly a case to be helped by the presence of all those unpainted parts and hastily screwed-on stuff on the Mobile Suit, he knew this one was on him. He couldn't spend a full hour in the ship before the patrol was encountered, and never got to the cockpit, never mind read the status report that was supposed to be inside (not that there was one to boot), but for everyone, everything seemed to be his fault, and the voice of the many often turned into the fake but collective and easy ''truth''. Sad, but unpleasantly true in the cruelest of manners. How ironic. Aaagh. Nothing to do about it but properly screw on these things now, he thought. The Nemo was lucky to survive ramming the Gaza, which even without the best of durability ratings, gave the shoddy assembling a good shake, many of the parts on the verge of coming off when he got back inside. Mechanics were all over the five Mobile Suits, looking to make a list of every part in need of a good screw. All but the Nemos seemed to be exempt, being as the three GMs were built during the beginning of the Gryps Conflict, times in which the Earth Federation had the resources to think they had more than just a shot at defeating a mere group of rebels. Both Nemos were recent, and had no such luck. Some things had come off in both, and while the hotshot ace hadn't slammed the Mobile Suit against anything, the close examination revealed that some parts were off-place too. The crew started properly bolting bodywork on both Mobile Suits, while Nick gave the operating system some finishing touches in the Preferences section, switching on the Metric units to have a clue at how fast was the thing going. Switching the unit to operative mode was a surprisingly bureaucratic task. Sarka probably found his in working condition when he got here... No time to smell the ashes. As he got out of the cockpit, looking to go for maybe another juice bag, or a waffle, the intercom turned on with a red light that changed intensity as Dashwood's voice spoke. However, it was dim all around, since he sounded tired as he called for him and the war criminal to go to Grim's office. Fucking great. Not only will i have to stand a whole stupid lecture from this guy, the other one is going to be there to get a medal and look at me with a smug grin in his face. God if i could only wipe that shit off him with a well-placed jab. I should have gotten those martial arts lessons back at my Side. If only to get the jump on him for a first hit... Fortunately, he was nearby when the announcement was made, since he was trying to get to the cafeteria as he heard it, so it took him but a minute to get to the office's door. The faster i get these two off my back, the sooner i can start training. Axis is onto us, and if we're still as unlucky as we've been, i'll be still inside the Nemo when it happens... He took the two candy from his pocket and opened their wraps, before putting them in the trash bin next to the door and the candy in his mouth. Happy thoughts make happy people, now be a happy fucker and get in that office, thought Nick as he built up the strength to get in. So he shyly knocked on the door, and after being granted access, he made his way in, looking at his commander in the eyes with a tired expression, before sighing and taking his hand to the head to perform a standard military salute, aware of Ryder's absence, but knowing this bliss wouldn't last long.
  7. Albert finished transmitting, and the voice of a young woman would reach for his ears. The woman who had just been shot through the chest by a 60mm round was rapidly bleeding out, and losing consciousness. But she was still alive, and with her last breath, she had drawn her own sidearm, a standard issue Naban Type 62, before surprising her killer with her last words, staring down the sights of the Zeon pistol, ready to shoot it at the Titans commanding officer that had mistaken her for a corpse too soon. “You’re a fool… it might be a lost one, but at least we follow… urgh! We… we follow…”, she managed to utter, holding back the extreme pain she was going through, but as she tried to finish the sentence and pull the trigger, she realized it was too late. Her strength was not enough anymore for any of the two, and so Sara Levchenko ceased to live, dropping her bloodied gun right on Albert's face, hitting him in the nose and making it bleed. Now Albert sat in his cockpit, awaiting rescue, and reflecting on the purpose of it all while death looked him straight in the eye, as it hung above him and dirtied him with the blood of those whom he had killed. The smoke cloud had begun to dissipate, and Erin kept battling against the dark blue Mobile Suit. She had managed to anger it beyond recognition: a minute earlier, its pilot treated the fight like a game. Now he was shouting at her, telling her to shut up, that she knew nothing. “I know nothing? Oh, boy. We had to try to drop an entire colony in Jaburo just to demonstrate how badly you had mistreated us. Then your beloved Federation chose to preserve itself at the cost of a whole chunk of Australia, with all the deaths that implied. Shameful, cowardly and pathetic.” Her Gouf spun over its right leg like a dancer, nimbly dodging the particle blade and positioning the Quel to its left, before grabbing its arm in a similar manner to Levchenko, with a lot more of success due to the strength difference between the Gouf's arms and the Quel's. However, she didn't count with her words enraging the pilot any further, making him drop the beam saber out of its left hand and grabbing it with the right for another hard-hitting strike. All she could do was to quickly raise her left arm to put it in the path of the blade, which upon contact with the magazine of her arm gatlings made it explode, shattering the transparent visor that had been put in front of the monoeye and leaving most of the left arm of the mobile suit in ruins, as its pilot made it pull back to recover, while the Quel put the breather to good use. “Now you've done it! I am gonna. Mess. You. Up!”, she exclaimed, hell-bent on dragging on the battle, but an incoming transmission interrupted what would have been further unnecessary bloodshed. It was Yuri, from the safety of the infinite forest. “Retreat, Commander! The sniper is coming for you, it's now or never!”, he yelled at the radio, before Erin replied back, seemingly intending to hold back the dark navy Mobile Suits for them to run away. “The show must go on! You've still got a shuttle to catch, so run away and don't waste those lives of yours!”. Lyle turned on his mic and joined the discussion, attempting to make her come to her senses, and knowing her better than Yuri, he had more luck. “You've got a shuttle to catch too! Don't throw away your life on being a distraction! You also promised Dominic to put it to good use, so come back and walk us to the stupid shuttle, will ya?!” Lyle struck a sensitive chord on her, and she reluctantly considered clinging on to her life. There wasn't much time, for the Quel was preparing to charge at her with the beam saber again, and the Sniper II wasn't that much far from them now. Finally, she made up her mind, and prepared for the GM's attack. “Aaaarrrgh! I can't believe I'm doing this!”. The Quel fired up its thrusters at her Gouf, stopping at a close distance by burying its foot on the dirt, swiping to its right again with the beam saber in both hands. As it pulled out the exact same maneuver than seconds before, Erin knew where to strike, and made the Gouf pull its right arm backwards beforehand. Then, before the blade could reach her, she made a throw forward, and the Quel pilot would only know too late that she had unleashed the Gouf's infamous heat rod, when a long, red-hot rope came down upon his Mobile Suit with the throwing motion. Like a lightning, it struck down the Quel, first slashing the left arm's joint, then a piece of the torso, missing the cockpit by a few centimeters. It then went on to melt the left leg’s first stretch, then finally the right knee. Losing three of its limbs at the same time, the Quel hit the floor hard, trying to land on its missing feet and crushing what was left of the right leg under its weight as a result. As quickly as it made its attack, the Gouf retracted the heat rod into the right arm, and gave the Quel a good view of its back, as it bent its knees, preparing to thrust into the forest. Before it did so, it gave the Quel's pilot a last word. “I’m sorry. I held back.” And so the Gouf flew away. The Quel used its sole remaining arm to lift the Mobile Suit and fire its vulcans at it, futilely. The Sniper fired its bullpup in a burst at it too, but it was too far to get a reliable shot by the time it was finished aiming, so the three bullets were wasted, flying at the lowering sun. The battle was over. The operational debut of their team, the Titans defeated seven Mobile Suits, but three of them ran away, and the fact that they were all together on that cursed forest meant going after them alone in the GM Sniper was too risky despite the deplorable condition they were in. Ryder had to let go of them, regardless of whether anybody at the base felt he had taken the right decision or was just being cowardly.
  8. The ruined Quel 02, already on its knees, fell to the floor in various pieces, letting go more black smoke, a result of the beam saber melting through the bodywork, and revealing absolutely nothing behind it anymore, as it was slowly set aflame again by the molten Gundarium alloy. A woman heard her enemy turn on the strange GM's PA system, and as his words were reproduced by the internal speakers of her Gouf Custom, she rolled her eyes. Cheap tricks and cowardice... We've got another one of those around here, huh? Just my luck… Down to business, a red circular flash appeared behind the black GM, and as Gabriel turned around, unaware of what awaited at the end of the turn, a green leg, clad in a silver boot, appeared out of the smoke to kick the battered shield off its hands, breaking the handle and leaving it still in the firm grasp of his hand. Honor… what are you, a child? The beam saber swinged forward, but the Gouf was already by his right side, ramming him with an unpainted grey shield and knocking him back a few steps. Taking a Dom's heat saber from a holster in its skirt, the Gouf immediately charged forward, and the Quel's pilot miraculously had the reflexes to block its attack with his beam saber. Now, both sabers clashed, firmly gripped by machines of nearly the same power, but very slowly closing in to the Quel, as the Gouf's pilot suddenly spoke, seemingly not above turning on the PA System herself. “You must think you're an oh-so-righteous knight, right? Come from the heavens to rain down his wrath upon evil... Pathetic… you're but a mere toy soldier!” Intent on helping their teammate, the GM Sniper and the commanding Quel, distinguished by the big white 01 painted on its right shoulder, ran towards the big cloud of smoke, risking being surprised by anything, and sure enough, Yuri and Levchenko now entered the cloud by the other side, not wanting to let Erin hog all three Titans for herself. As the latter found their way into the center of the cloud and discovered Quel 03 steadfastly holding its position against the advancing enemy Gouf, they prepared a bullpup and a beam saber respectively to gang up on the green machine, but were surprised by two monoeyes, which had briefly leapt out of the cloud with their boosters to drop right in front of them, maybe wanting to let the fight drag on longer. Her heat hawk shining red, Levchenko playfully laughed, kicking Quel 01’s right feet and having it land on its knee, then holding its hand with the left arm to keep the beam saber from coming back to cut her in half, and thrusting the hawk into its shoulder with the right arm. Had she taken a few more moments, the superior Quel would have regained the upper hand by force, but Sara acted quickly. Now, the Quel's right shoulder was being slowly melted away, the arm losing power and finding itself on even grounds with the Zaku's, as Lieutenant Sara Levchenko turned on her PA too. “That’s right! Shudder in fear!”. The Sniper II, bullpup in hand, could do something about it, but the strange Zaku II, gripping one of the latest Zeon machine guns, remained slyly silent and disappeared amongst the fog of war, and was certain to reappear at the worst time if something was not done about it. Albert looked like he could offer further resistance, too...
  9. Erin couldn't believe her eyes as she watched Sargeant Raphael Gurden's death unfold before her eyes. Far from being the implacable men Jamitov spoke of, and despite the superior authority their officers wielded, the Titans’ regular ranks seemed to be comprised of mere grunts, clad in black for the purpose of intimidating the enemy. But even the best could fall prey to their own carelessness, and Raphael's had just cost him his life. Enraged, Erin grabbed the mic, and radioed her forces. They, too, were made of faulty human souls. “Yuri! What the actual hell were you doing?! How did you let this clown slip by?! Lyle, are you okay?” “Sorry, boss! He somehow outmaneuvered us!” Claimed Yuri, holding the GM Kai from behind, for Levchenko to throw her heat hawk at its cockpit, landing its heat blade right on the middle section of the Kai and denying its pilot any chance of salvation, then kicking it further in with the foot to add insult to deadly injury. Lyle, who had his Tropen's leg blown off, got up, before cleverly speeding away with the remaining leg, using its thrust plus that of the right half of the skirt's engines. “I am sorry, Commander... i'm out. I'll try to pick up the leg and go hide in the forest, see if it's still good enough for attaching it again.” As Levchenko and Yuri got fed up of the Kai and started charging towards the sniper, the damaged Tropen sped past them, knowing they would cover him, and dropped its machine gun to pick up the detached right leg, then flying away with it, into the forest. Erin and the Zaku behind her now fired their weapons at another Quel, before Erin noticed the presence of a third, which was knowingly pointing his weapon towards her unit, intent on firing. Think you can take on me, nugget? Quickly, Erin made the Gouf face the black GM, then after a sidestep at the right, towards its downed doppleganger, a command was inputted to use it as a shield, so the green unit obeyed, lifting the Quel up from the armpits as fast as it could. This is for Raph, Feddie scum! As the first rounds arrived, they blew off one of her gigantic, curved shoulder spikes, of which she was not very fond anyways, before the rest made contact with the inoperative Mobile Suit, hitting the torso, the skirt, and even going for the cockpit, which was kept from destruction (much to the relief of the pilot) by the head, which hanged in front of the canopy and blew up in its place, unhinging the left breast vent and outright detaching the already battered right one. Its insides briefly went up in flames too, complete with an automated ejection of the cockpit, before thin firefoam started coming out of them, which mixed up with the steam created by the clashing temperatures created a smokescreen of sorts for Erin. Now, as the F2 fired its machine gun at the farthest of the black GMs, Erin advanced towards the smartass on Unit 03, holding her makeshift shield and smoke machine up, while the heat saber remotely turned on in preparation for the time to strike...
  10. After the ravine collapsed, the entire platoon ran, setting course for the woods, where they wouldn't be as easily spotted, and where they could have an advantage if so was the case. But destiny had other plans for them. Only minutes after the explosion, black aircraft appeared high on the sky, which Erin recognized on the screen as larger versions of Federation supply craft, equipped with extra engines to bear with the added weight. They were too high for any of their guns to reach them with their bullets, and there was a chance that they hadn't actually seen them, so she ordered the platoon to hold their fire and keep moving, knowing that even if they had spotted them, the forest would nonetheless allow for an ambush. Yet her worst fear was realized soon after, when four GM-type Mobile Suits fell from the sky, and cleverly landed on a ridge to block them from entering cover, all the while miraculously dodging their bullets. Their response time had been suspiciously high, as if they knew beforehand where to go, and their black bodywork betrayed their true nature as the alleged heralds of their death: the dreaded Titans, addressed by Jamitov's speeches as Earth's finest, were finally here, bullpup machine guns in hand, now pointed at them. “Raphael! Lyle! Get their backs!” And so the Tropens sped to get their way around them, avoiding 90mm bullets like they all were of a far higher lethality. “Cosette! Yuri! Flank the ridge!” The JC-Type Zakus obeyed, and ran to position themselves. “The rest! Suppresive fire until we get there! We’ll leap right in front of their faces and sandwich them!” Not one to lose her cool despite the dire circumstances, Erin quickly directed everyone as well as she could, even though she hadn’t battled in months. The results showed up quickly: the GM Kais of the ridge were grazed by their fire, and one round even found its way into one of their cockpits, probably a result of Yuri Voychek’s marksmanship. Trying to jump off the ridge, they were surprised when Zakus flew right in front of them and began shooting at point blank range, destroying a second Kai. They would then try to fold back, only to find Raphael and Lyle, who took on the two remaining units. Raphael relieved the first of its left arm, slashing the joint with his beam saber, before it flew away and entered the forest, as Lyle rid the other one of its head by blowing it up, before pushing it from the ridge. However, soon arrived their reinforcements. An F2 would go up in flames, then at the next moment, as Erin landed on top of the ridge, she was getting a transmission from Cosette’s JC, which had lost its machine gun and gained lots of scrapes after enemy fire ignited its magazine. “Commander, watch your back! Commander!” And so, the Zaku leaped high into the air, before being blown up to smithereens by a beam. Cosette! Such output… a god damned sniper! “Doms! Forget those GMs! Tally a sniper on the loose, vector 360! Close the distance and get rid of him! Levchenko! Yuri! Get the fleeing Jim! We're all going to move in that direction, there's more of them.” Erin gave out new orders, and while the remaining JC Zaku ran into the woods with one of the F2-Types, the Tropens flew at top speed from the ridge, before another black GM, looking way more advanced than the Kais that had just been defeated, stood on the way of Lyle and Raphael, firing its machine gun at them. Both protected their main cameras with their arms, knowing that the thick plating would do. Raphael sped right through, but before the Quel could turn around to fire at his back, Lyle arrived, and flying at approximately two hundred kilometers per hour, he took aim at the head with his fist. The new GM attempted to evade by throwing its back on the floor, but the Tropen arrived in the middle of the maneuver and still managed to land a clean uppercut, severely damaging the head and destroying its joints, detaching it from the frame, yet leaving the lead cables intact, the head dangling from the Mobile Suit once it violently made contact with the floor. That said and done, Lyle quickly regained its lost speed. Two Dom Tropens now sped quickly at a black sniper-type Mobile Suit, while the other two new models quickly had to aim their weapons again at their friends. Staring at the sights of their machine guns, three Zeeks. A Gouf Custom and two F2 Zakus. Weapons drawn. And the most murderous of intents.
  11. Kilometers away, the Titans were being awaited by a depleted coal quarry of relatively small size, that yielded resources no more. Blackwell Quarry, having been for long home to a sizable Zeon Remnant community, today fared them goodbye. Inside its spacious tunnels, those who had taken the final decision to attempt to join Axis now started up their old wartime jeeps, APCs and even a Magella Attack Tank, while the Mobile Suit pilots prepared their Zakus and Dom Tropens for a long walk. The group would be commanded by a trash green Gouf Custom, which kneeled on the floor as it automatically gave a woman on a drab green Zeon uniform a lift with one hand, the other holding a Dom's heat saber, on a permanent guard stance. The hatch opened to let her in, and so she placed her baggage behind the seat, before seating herself in it, shifting her raven black hair back so it would be held by her ears, which would then be covered by a rugged but durable headset. Booting the systems up, turning the cabin temperature regulator on at 25 degrees Celsius and placing a water bottle on the cupholder, she tapped the microphone with her index nail, before contacting the Magella Attack, manned by her old friend, Acting Second-In-Command Stuart Rivers. - ''Testing. Testing... you comfortable in that armored coffin of yours, Stu?'' ''Ha, like we're going to come under enemy fire. Say whatever you want about Maggie being less than effective, but at least i'm not the one in an eighteen-something-meter monstruosity that is bound to turn heads wherever it goes. Besides, we're going to spend half the way under the cover of Earth herself. And you?'' - Stuart responded, at the controls of the Magella's communications device, while a jeep that was positioned at the head of the formation turned its headlights on, advancing through the pitch black darkness of the biggest tunnel to clear the way for all of the ground vehicles. ''Here's counting on a miracle and all of us getting there in one piece. It's going to be tough, but you'll take good care of them all, won't you? They're counting with you. It's your big break, the one you were waiting for.'' - Erin Rockwell's Gouf Custom finally got on its feet, and walked out of the main tunnel, with the main camera shining with the well-known shade of red distinctive of Zeonic Mobile Suits, focusing on the many explosive charges set to detonate at its pilot's signal. ''Well, Maggie isn't just for show, nor are my brains...'' ''If you say so, dumbass.'' - Erin chuckled for a moment, before saying a few more words. - ''Why don't you do me the honors and brief everyone? I want to hear your voice one last time...'' Stuart sighed briefly, but complied and switched the radio to their public channel. All for the lady of my life... Ten Mobile Suits, standing in the center of the quarry, and a large contingent of vehicles, prepared to advance through the longest of the tunnels, now listened to his words. - ''Heads up, ladies. For those who slept through yesterday's briefing, Operation Last Call is underway. I'll try to tell you the plan in a nutshell. We'll ride this tunnel to someplace near the shore, then make our way to the spaceport without being spotted by the Feds, leave the cars and the jackets if we have to. It's going to be a long road, and that's why every vehicle carries enough supplies for a week. The rests will be made in well-hidden camps, which will be tightly regulated. You know what this means. No loud noises. No flashy lights. And absolutely no absences without leave! You hear me, Bryan? This isn't the time to ruin shit. Our lives depend on this.'' Erin could almost hear the voices of her comrades laughing at Stuart's reprimand for the young Ensign. Her screens showed the blue IFF blips moving, the Zakus bending their knees in preparation to leap out of the quarry, while the Tropens, unable to perform such a jump, were following the dirt ramps, hovering their way out. As the fastest units, they would be leading the group during the whole trip, and so they needed to be at the top before the Gouf jumped, five F2 Zaku IIs and two JC Zaku IIs behind it, all painted in sand brown with spots of their original paintjobs visible here and there. ''Unfortunately, as safe as we'd feel with ten Mobile Suits watching our backs, the 101th Corps is simply too big to fit through the tunnels. They'll take another route, completely over the ground. They are to meet us at the spaceport, but their odds aren't that great. We'll wait for them for as long as we can, but the Axis guys will take off whenever they feel the least bit menaced. That means they can take off without us too. We better hurry there. As for what happens if the Feds ever find us... fight or flight, it's your choice. We've given too much for each other already, and so i think it would be sensible for each one of us to make that decision by ourselves, no harbored grudges. That's all. We will now start advancing through the tunnel, and hope it's still as solid as the scouts said it was last week. Sieg Zeon.'' ''Sieg Zeon...'' As soon as every pilot made their last pledge to Zeon, they switched frequencies, losing contact with the caravan, and Erin's hand would heavily fall over a handheld detonator. Bending its knees, the Gouf jumped, and turned its backpack boosters on for the first time in months, succesfully accelerating upwards. The Zakus followed her, all of their thrusters fortunately functional, and when all feet were finally on the high ground, the detonator would slowly rise up, clutched by Erin. She took a few seconds to look at the quarry, then silently wished them a good journey. Bon voyage, my sisters and brothers. Take good care of them, Stuart. To all of you... godspeed. The click was made, and it would be followed by a series of detonations. Mining charges, set up all over the quarry, made the tunnels collapse first, then the rest of the structure. With the tunnels closed, the Feds wouldn't know which tunnel to follow, even if they knew to look for other vehicles. And the only copies for the blueprints of the quarry had been stolen by Stu's boys a week or so ago, which meant they couldn't possibly use those either to know which their possible destinations. It was only the 101th Mobile Suit Platoon from there on. Them, and a crime scene wiped clean. Lifting her chin up, Erin now addressed her soldiers. - ''Very well, guys. It's time to do our part. Advance at the speed of our slowest units, heading two-zero-zero. Sharp sight, at all times. And if you see enemy aircraft, you know what to do. Blow those pricks out of the sky, to kingdom come and beyond.''
  12. Erin Rockwell Biography Full name: Ellen “Erin” Rockwell Faction: Zeon Remnants Rank: Acting Commander Age: 29 years old Sex: Female Weight: 61kg Height: 1,71m Eyes: Dark brown, no contacts Hair: Raven black, undyed Skin: Fair skin Handiness: Right-handed Personality A serious woman and a competent leader whenever the situation requires it, Erin Rockwell is, however, a very different person with those who have gained her trust, and her whole three years of hiding in a huge subterranean complex below the South African savannah with other Zeonic remnants have turned her into a close friend to each of her subordinates first, then their commanding officer, always caring for their general well-being and future. Unable to hide her humanity and her own problems from them as a side effect, many of her comrades help her out in tough times just like she uses to help them. As for new faces, she is more open towards accepting them into the group than the rest, even though she is cautious towards their possible intentions at first. Strengths and weaknesses While not an exceptionally strong Mobile Suit pilot, she can hold her own in battle, and has a clearly defined combat style, influenced by injuries sustained during the previous war which make her pulse highly unstable, her hands usually trembling when she's tense. This combined with her aggressivity in combat makes her unfit for conventional combat, though she can act as a sniper, if given adequate weaponry, by greatly reducing the controller sensitivity so the crosshairs will slowly move on a general direction. She has, however, embraced close-quarters combat as her way of facing the enemy, equipping her Gouf Custom with a Dom's heat saber and adding spread to its machine gun to increase the odds of it hitting something at close range, while needing to quickly close in on far-away enemies for an engagement to be possible. She is also charismatic and sociable, though it is through this that her fellow soldiers know she has been in trouble before because of alcohol, and even though she has been helped by the scarcity of such a commodity in the hideout, unwelcome memories always find their way into her, prompting her to find a retreat in the nearest bottle of booze whenever available. Appearance A mildly attractive woman that isn't without her faults, Erin is most easily described as an average-height, Caucasian woman with a fit build and long, messy black hair. Perharps the most remarkable thing about her appearance is her aversion to showing her hands and lower arms, usually sporting long gloves of varying designs, from bulky pairs not unlike those of the Red Comet himself to mere leather gloves. Aside from this, she usually only wears a white top with long sleeves, olive green cargo pants and brown work boots, only donning her Zeon regalia on important occasions, and when inside the subterranean complex, due to a risk of being found by the Titans if she's ever to wear such clothing outside. History On January the 7th of UC 0054, on one of the colonies of the Autonomous Republic of Munzo, Erin Rockwell was born in a middle-to-upper-class family that consisted of herself and her mother, who had widowed a month before in a freak accident. Years later, she would fall in love again with a customs official, before giving Erin a quiet little brother. However, unlike the three of them, who nonetheless tried their best to support her, Erin was a very active person, and liked to always keep on the move, with a highly athletic lifestyle. She had, however, a lack of a goal in life, and landed in the Munzo Defense Force's Academy upon graduating, being the best paying job for somebody of her physical prowess, who despite her inability to stay quiet wasn't exactly rebellious. Yet, the growing influence of the Zabi family's ideals would get to her, and slowly her class, her included, would begin to resent the Earth Federation, up to the point they participated in the MDF academy's attack on the Federation's Munzo branch, on retaliation for the incident involving a Salamis cruiser and an agricultural block in UC 0077, and so she fought against them, though she was clever enough to hide her involvement on the incident from the authorities, prompting Zabi supporters to see her in as good a light as any other attendees without having to worry about the Federation's inquiries. This proved to be a stepping stone for her rise through the early ranks of the Zeonic military. By the time the One Year War began, her connections to many high-ranking officers of the newly-formed Principality had paid off, as her newfound fascination for Mobile Suits meant she was put in the role of a test pilot for some early versions of the MS-06 Zaku, and participated in some of the earliest space skirmishes of the war, such as the skirmish at Loum. Eventually, she was considered experienced enough by the standards of her superiors (even if not an ace) to be sent as part of the invasion force on Earth. Landing in South Africa with her own grunt Zaku II, she would participate in many operations until the later days of the war, when one night the Federation's GMs surprised the base she was stationed in and successfully overwhelmed it with their numbers, killing many of the higher ranks and even her squadron leader, Dominic Tupol, who was on foot at the time. Losing no time, she would commandeer his Gouf Custom and give out orders to what was left of her squad, playing a key part on evacuating the survivors into an abandoned subterranean mining complex, which would be turned into their safe haven. Deciding to hide until Zeon regained its strength and invaded Earth again, all of them survived inside the complex. But the war ended, and nobody came to their aid, so they stayed there for years, while those who felt it was enough simply left for the nearest population centers and became mere civilians, year after year. In year 0083, word of the Delaz Fleet's misadventures on Earth and space would reach Blackwell Mine, and so Erin and her comrades would rise up in arms again, mounting an operation after their old base, occupied by the Federation since the war, sent most of its GMs into space to help the ailing Federation fleet, weakened by the losses at the Solomon naval review. The operation was successful, and the Remnants scored two Dom Tropens and various aggressor Zakus, painted in white, to replace their old units, which would be scrapped for spare parts. Despite this significant victory, conflict would yet again abandon them halfway through their efforts, and so they would have to return to a low profile, now better equipped but having to hide from a task force made exclusively for hunting them down - the Titans, and knowing that sooner or later, either they would be found and made to run away or they would give up on their mission and retire to a life of peaceful farming. But not all hope was lost for those who patiently awaited. Months later, a mysterious signal came from the South African shores: in need of experienced personnel for future conflicts, and targeting Africa’s large Remnant population, Axis agents had quietly reconditioned small shuttles on various inconspicuous locations around the continent, set to take off when full and rendezvous with space cruisers that would take their passengers to safety aboard Axis itself. This was a perfect opportunity for Erin and her restless companions, and so they made reservations for the closest shuttle - located on an abandoned spaceport on the shores of South Africa. Yet, the Titans were good at their job, and they were becoming increasingly suspicious of the mine, the Acting Commander of the underground base worried about the posibility that their next visit would be aboard Mobile Suits. Erin’s 101th Mobile Suit Platoon was starting to run out of time to join Axis for a second shot at the glory they were denied, and so preparations for one last sortie were made, the ones that wanted to resume their fight packing their stuff on their Doms and Zakus or all-terrain jeeps and the ones that wanted to stay giving them their goodbye… for next morning, the escape from Earth would be officially underway. Possessions Erin owns: Naban Type 62: A standard issue, completely ordinary Zeon sidearm, chambered on standard ammunition for the Zeon Earth Assault Force. Erin has kept this weapon ever since her graduation from the military academy and conscription into the Zeon 11th Mobile Suit Corps, then the ZEAF’s 99th Division. MS-07B-3 Gouf Custom: A Mobile Suit originally piloted by Erin's defunct squadron leader upon their arrival to Earth, it was originally an ordinary Gouf that was retrofitted with Type 3 equipment, brought from space on UC 0080. Erin chose it over the Dom Tropens her comrades got a hold of during the Delaz Fleet incident because of its operative similarity to her old MS-06JC Zaku II and its superior close-combat capabilities. Its former pilot has painted it in a green hue that is vaguely reminiscent of Zeon’s Gelgoogs, and it has been emblazoned with the number 13 since assembly. It is relatively well-mantained, having sustained only superficial damage during its various sorties, but its shield has lost the gatling gun component on battle and was reverted back to its original specifications. Kills None Roleplays - Mobile Suit Gundam: Memories of the Past [In Progress] Coliseum battles - None --- Comments This Sucks: And it is because of the hastiness i had to write it with. Expect updates and fixes as MotP advances.
  13. Unable to accept defeat, Nick kept evading beams and trying to convince the Firefly that he was still worthy, as he avoided the shots of the last operative Gaza's cannon. - ''Negative! I can disable these locks! Give me time!'' - However, the Mechanic in Chief, Gina Reid, proved him wrong with the Nemo's manual in hand. ''Ensign! Obey orders and return to the carrier! The mode change needs a system reboot, and you would be even more of a sitting duck while the switch takes place. Your only bet is to return to the ship... out here, you're just a liability.'' - Angered and filling with impotence as Gina's disappointed face vanished from his screen, Nick finally agreed in a silent manner, adopting a new course towards the Firefly at full speed. CO Dashwood, who would see through this an attempt to return to the ship, wouldn't ask for his acknowledgement and vanished too. Seconds later, a light that came from the inside of the ship attracted his attention. They were opening one of their cargo hatches to receive him. But his tactical retreat was suddenly interrupted by the last Gaza, which turning again into a Mobile Suit, stood directly between him and the ship, aiming his beam rifle at Nicky's Nemo, as if he hadn't gone through enough that day. Tired and enraged, Nick was not in the mood for the playful demeanor of this particular unit, and decided he would get the last word, even if he was to retreat. So his feet both turned suddenly into solid lead to floor the thruster pedals, and yelling, Nick maneuvered at the side to avoid the Gaza's first shot at him. By the time the bright pink beam rifle was ready for another, the Axis pilot would suddenly find the Trainer Nemo was at an alarmingly close distance and still closing in, the left shoulder pointed towards its enemy, ready to ram him. One of the Combine pilots, who had positioned its GM II behind the Gaza and was ready to destroy it, had but mere seconds to forget about it and get itself out of the way, which it miraculously managed to do with a full burn of the thrusters. I'll teach you not to mock me ever again, you imbecile! ''ZEON, BE GONE!'' A second passed, and the speeding trainer unit made contact with the Gaza. Not a sound was heard by the rest, but they could only imagine the force of said impact and the fear in the enemy's eyes, who had thought Nick would simply change course on being faced by him. The sturdier Nemo, having rammed the Gaza only with its left side, got its fair share of bumps in the armor, ruined paint and had its antenna bended, but would get off lightly compared to the other Mobile Suit, which had gotten its right arm's joint ruined, the secondary optic array mounted in the torso crushed by the Nemo, and even lost its beam rifle, which somehow slipped out of the Gaza's hands on collision to start spinning towards the Firefly. Both pilots ended up briefly dazed and disoriented, as their units spun around on a similar manner, though seeing as he did expect this, Nick would recover faster, and quickly aligned his MS with the Firefly to enter through the hatch, while the enemy machine was nowhere to be seen after the impact, perharps intending to flee the area. Seconds after stepping inside, the door started closing again in front of the Nemo, which kneeled on the floor. When it finally closed, Nick would hear his own breathing and feel his heart beat again, as he shut the Nemo's systems off. He was out of the battle.
  14. I realized that after writing the post where I mention it. We can hand wave it as Nick talking from inertia.
  15. Coming out of the Firefly, the second yellow-accented Nemo would automatically aim its standard issue beam rifle at one of the attackers, chosen at random by the targeting system. Inside, the panoramic screen would show the pilot three green rectangles and a fourth one, colored yellow, all identified as ''AMX-003'' by the HUD. Apparently, the one that was hit by Sarka's sniper rifle was still in one piece, however it would still switch its IFF to yellow status, signaling itself as ''out of combat'' per the now-aging Antarctic Treaty. It was unknown whether it would manage to go back to wherever it came from or if its pilot would be forced to eject and risk capture by the Firefly. However, the scarce white foam that now came out of the Mobile Suit (if it could be called anything but a stick with legs and arms) indicated that the pilot was still alive and was attempting to buy himself some time by placating the fire. ''Go back to your rock, fascist turds!'' - Holding down the button on the right lever that prompted his Trainer Nemo to point the rifle at one of the operative Gazas, Nick would wait until it was moving in a relatively straight-forward line, as most Mobile Armors did in-between maneuvers, to position his crosshairs right in front of the bogey. Then, he would press the red, circular button with his thumb, prompting his Nemo to fire an unveliebably easy shot at the MA, courtesy of its pilot's carelessness. The perfect, cleanest one-shot. Or it would have been, had Nick remembered to switch his unit to Battle Operation mode upon activating it. As he pressed the firing button, a big sign would then occupy the center of his screen, reading ''TRAINING MODE ENGAGED: Disengage to operate weaponry'', and the beam rifle would emit no particle upon the pink speedster. Upon seeing this, Nick would yell, enraged at himself for committing such an idiotic mistake. - ''What? No, no, no, NO! Whoa-'' Nick wouldn't be granted any other word. Another of the Gazas would appear out of the blue, flying in his direction and firing his cannon at him, forcing him to quickly maneuver out of the way. This was a real battlefield, and he realized he was extremely lucky to have been forgiven an initial mistake. Further mis-steps would be punished with gruesome death, and he needed to act quick. Reaching for the radio commands, he avoided the Gaza at the same time, which seemed to be fixated on his unit, maybe sensing his fear, maybe seeing weakness through the thick armor plates of his Mobile Suit. His finger would finally find the button with the twin protuberances, meant for tactile identification, and spoke through the AEUG frequency to request help. - ''This is Ensign Lavie! Nemo 2! I'm experiencing technical trouble with my unit, Mr. Dashwood! Get me a Nemo technician on the line please!'' - As he said so, he hoped that the comms weren't blurry enough for the Firefly to miss his transmission, and that the Galleon Combine pilots had already come out in their GMs. However, the Gaza at which he had intended to fire a shot was now en route to him too, seemingly warned by his comrade not to lower his guard, and his flight pattern was looking increasingly complex already. Oh man, oh man...
  16. Before the mercenary in front of Lavie could reply, a high-pitched alarm, followed by Dashwood's voice, would interrupt their chat again with an announcement for the captain, and implicitly, for whomever it might have concerned: Axis had already found them, and had deployed Mobile Suits. The first of many red flags yet to find within his assignment... ''FUCK!'' - A yell would run away from between his lips, and his fist would slam itself over the plastic table once, in a very audible manner. - Just when i thought this day would go easy on good old me! And i didn't even get to the god-damned simulator! Screw the Zeeks! Screw them all! ''Hiro! We have to take off! We can resume our introductions later!'' - Nick would yell over the intercom's blaring request for everyone to get into Level 1 battle stations, before jumping off his seat and kicking his table (thankfully screwed to the floor) to fly towards the corridor, then speed like a bullet through it to the Mobile Suit bay by constantly jumping from one wall to another, nimbly dodging a dazed mechanic, parts of a malfunctioning speaker and a floating laundry cart. It appeared he was somehow accustomed to doing such things in zero-G. Cornering right by using a metallic handle, he would fly into the supply cabinet and stop himself by bouncing off one of the walls with his feet, then grabbing the door's frame. He would quickly look for one of the one-size-fits-all orange flight suits, a matching helmet and a pair of boots of his size, as Dashwood spoke again in the background to confirm the presence of four bandits, AMX-003-class. - This is not normal. We're a box of scraps floating through space. One of many. Why the hell would they go to such lengths to intercept such a ship they know nothing about? They must know two things: First, we're AEUG and have Mobile Suits. Second, we're carrying something of interest. But aside from Grim, which is by all means replaceable... what the hell could we be carrying that they want? And how do they know all of this? God damn the Corporate Department to Hell! They never tell me anything! Now getting out of the dressing room, sporting a flight suit that was only barely stretched out, Nick being small as he was, he would propel himself towards the unoccupied Nemo by kicking one of the railings to gain speed. As he floated, he would have a glance at the two Mobile Suits already on their feet: a bleach-white GM II, and a doppleganger of his own unit, holding a sniper rifle. According to the file he had been handed at Von Braun, the peculiar GM would be assigned to Grim himself, while the only other Nemo had been assigned to the dreaded squadron leader. - Is Grim heading out into space himself? Heh. Sitting on an armchair all day must not be that comfortable. Look at the bright side, Nick... you can let the felon die under the excuse that there were more valuable assets to protect at the time... He would finally enter the cockpit, trying to remember as well as he could his GM-type pilot training. Thankfully, stickers all over the place helped him get his bearings, and so he easily found the button to close the canopy, before firing up the main camera, the exterior finally displayed all around him on the panoramic screen as the propulsion and AMBAC systems started up. The UI showed the standard warning that indicated the suit was unequipped for ranged combat, and a pair of presses of a button later, the Mobile Suit automatically walked up to the arms rack on one of the walls, grabbing a beam rifle with the right hand, then with the left, strapping two spare magazines to the left side of the skirt armor. Then getting in line, behind Ryder's back, Nick would speak to his Mobile Suit, conditioned by a strange habit of his: making his tools and weapons of war the objects of his affection. - ''Okay, big boy... i know this sounds crazy. I don't know you, even though you've been easy to read so far. And you probably hate me already. But let's make a promise, both of us. If we both survive this war, we're walking up to Anaheim's offices and tearing them down to the foundation for putting us into this.'' Now pushing the button to activate the communications system, the radio (which had already been set up) would let him hear Alistair's voice again. ''-the report. Four contacts. Gaza Cs. Romboidal formation. Approaching our port side.'' Very well... here goes. If i'm going to be turned into grilled meat any time, this should be the day. ''Ensign Lavie, on line for catapult, Nemo!''
  17. It's sad that we're short enough on hands to accept this clown... but hopefully nobody will bat an eye when that Nemo's cockpit is melted through with a heat hawk. While Ryder let go of his shoulder and made his exit, much to his relief, Nick finished slurping the contents of the pulp-free juice tube. All that was left on the tray was a pair of elongated, wrapped candy, which didn't really call out to him then, but would come in handy later, so he put them on his jacket's left pocket for another time. Immediately after Ryder's exit, Hiro would speak again, and it was comforting to see that he wasn't the only unsettled one at the presence of somebody who should, by this time, be at the gallows back in Dakar. Nodding his head in happy agreement, he would be then asked for information about himself again, and without the intruder in sight, this time he felt like actually introducing himself. Adjusting his glasses, Nick began: ''Ensign Nicholas Lavie, but you can simply call me Nick. Been in the Federation ever since working age, repairing grunt suits. Got in the Group when a bunch of their idiots tried to steal GMs from my Salamis and got blown up to smithereens. One of them, well, what was left of his face, used to be a friend of mine in school, so the Titans charged me with being their inside man without prior investigation and sent men after me and my family. So the AEUG made sure to protect them. And, in exchange, they expect me to pilot a Mobile Suit. I'm a mechanic, for fuck's sakes!'' - Nick calmly motioned both of his hands forwards, rolling his eyes at the ceiling for a brief moment. - ''And yet, i have to do it. Even though i know nothing about this, and having in mind they were the ones with the brilliant idea of jacking GMs from the Feds. I swear, if these imbeciles at Anaheim thought they're getting away, doing this to me, they better hope i don't survive this war...'' A brief pair of beeps would interrupt his ramblings. The intercom had been switched on, and now a mature, slightly raspy voice spoke through it in a slight British accent. ''-sting. Testing. This is Communications Officer Alistair Dashwood. The technicians appear to have fixed this thing at last, which means we can finally be heard through the ship's speakers again. Not all of them might work, however, so be sure to report any malfunctioning units to me through one of the lines. More lives than your own might depend on our announcements being read by every crew member, or so says the emergency manual. Anyways, speaking of announcements. From this day, we're joined by new personnel, amongst which is the AEUG's new leader, Benjamin Grimsdottir. Be sure to remember, he is now at the top of our command chain, and his authority overrides that of your previous superiors, so, uh... don't question him like last time. You know who you are. The only other item in the list for now: some of the dummy balloons are reported to need patching. Get somebody to it, will ya? It's a simple task, and it's not like those fake asteroids haven't saved our collective asses before. You can keep on working on that scrap heap of a space bus later.'' After the general message ended, Nick would check the time with the LCD clock embedded on the upper end of the opposite wall. He needed to be at the Mobile Suit bay in twenty minutes to check his Mobile Suit, then to get acquainted with it by running operation simulations. He had time to hear from his new comrade. ''So, what about you? I didn't catch your full name, so you can start there, if you feel like it. The interest for knowing those i'll cover from now on is mutual, after all...''
  18. After being dismissed by his new superior, Nicky would find his way into a small cafeteria at the middle section of the Firefly, attended by a pair of cooks that looked like they had just gotten a rest. Only a few of the tables were occupied, as the crew that came with the ship had taken their breakfast earlier, and so Nick got the luxury of choosing a cushioned seat at a corner table, always having been drawn to push his back against walls, always reliable guardians for one's back. The wall paper was coming off in some places, but the ambiance given by the titillating, calid lighting tubes was nice overall, so he decided to have his breakfast there, setting a metallic food tray down upon the table, and securing it with a pair of small hooks that were built at various points into the table, knowing that it would fly away with the contents otherwise upon escaping the moon's weak gravity field. Halfway through the sandwich, the mercenary addressed by Grim as Hiro would come to greet him, while he had his mouth full. But before he could say anything, an unwanted presence invited itself onto the table too. Ryder Sarka. Trying to ignore the unsettling guest at his right, Nick listened at Hiro's introduction of his group. Apparently, they had a high reputation amongst other mercenaries (whatever the hell that was supposed to mean to him). He was relieved to hear him speak in a gentle manner despite his tough aspect, acting not at all like he thought a sell-sword would be, an impression matched very closely nonetheless by his squadron leader, who replied with a long volley of what he assumed would be just bullshit about his time with the #1 pedestrian beating institution of all times. Guess first impressions aren't always right... Finishing his sandwich, Nick would poke a hole in the straw of his orange juice tube, but before he could take it into his mouth, a hand fell heavily over his right shoulder, clutching it in a very uncomfortable, maybe even painful manner. But Nick knew what the results of facing somebody his size would be, and his fists opened before they even had a chance to fully close. ''If i wanted to make sure somebody would put his mind and heart into covering my back, i would know better than to threaten them. Good thing you're an ace, right, Commander? If you're what you say you are, then you'll have no need for me next time a Zeek gets to see you from behind, anyways.'' - Nick replied, talking by the first time in person to his first object of loathing since his introduction to the Anti Earth Union Group, always looking forward while trying to appear calm, before taking a sip from the juice tube and shifting his hazel eyes to Hiro, talking to him with a slight smile on his face, trying to make a better first impression than his superior, but inadvertently giving the latter a brief, last throw. - ''It's nice to meet you, Hiro. I feel relieved now that i know that the squadron is to contain actual professionals...''
  19. Welcome to Advent Destiny and enjoy your stay. I'm Replicator, and I'm an imbecile. Take nothing I say seriously. Not even this post. I mean it!
  20. Not unlike most of the nearby AEUG personnel and Grim himself, Nicholas Lavie appeared very, very stressed, bags under his eyes due to the moon's uncertain day/night cycle messing with his biological clock, having dealt with lots of things in the last few days with the bare minimum of sleep, chugging down caffeinated energy drinks like tap water and running from one side of the lunar city to the other, running errands and providing insight on the mechanical condition of some Mobile Suits that somehow held together and returned from the brutal skirmish at Gryps, most of them having to be scrapped due to the inviability of restoring them to a decent working condition, despite being very good machines. He had only gotten an eight hour nap after being assigned to this new post: guarding the AEUG's new leader and following his command as he got on a ship and went... somewhere. Catching the person to his left in the act of glancing at him, he restrained himself from returning the angry glare and simply sighed very slowly, in an almost silent manner. The man in question was Ryder Sarka, an ex-Titans officer that would be his squadron leader from then on. He had angered the guy nine or ten hours before via microphone on a secure comms channel, calling him out for being a former Titan, which prompted him to respond that he ''was there'' when the Colony 30 incident ocurred and that it was the subject of profound psychological trauma on his person. In all honesty, Nick did not believe the man's words for a moment. Since he heard him, he only thought of him as a pathetic ''bad boy'' and a war criminal most likely wanted by the Federation that joined the AEUG to avoid prosecution, lying his way to sympathy from his new squad by feigning guilt. The bastard was probably just beating dissenters to death and eating human steak in an interrogation room while Colony 30 happened, Nick thought to himself, making very sure not to voice his thoughts out loud in front of his new group, which he trusted almost as much as he trusted the felon to his left. Which brought him to think of his new, very dire situation. He was now part of an all-new platoon, which was probably nothing like the sympathetic crew of the Salamis Kai that had given him a lift to Gryps and Von Braun. His squadron leader was already mad at him, probably looking for an excuse to get him into trouble, the mercenaries (of which he knew absolutely nothing) that made up the rest of the Mobile Suit squadron probably going to make friends with him, which Nick feared would make them antagonize him in exchange for befriending Ryder. What was worse, Nick also feared that Ryder and the mercenaries would eventually plot against the Captain and running away with the rust bucket they were going to board, which wouldn't be of any surprise to him. And even if nothing along those lines happened, he was still being put in a Mobile Suit, probably to pale in comparison to Ryder and the other two pilots, so Grim (who was already like the rest of harsh commanding officers he had seen during the course of his life, expecting nothing of him, and didn't even think he could behave professionally) could have an excuse to lecture him for not being as good as the rest of the squadron, which save by him was made entirely out of certified professionals and an alleged ace pilot. As if they could blame me. I'm a mechanic, not a pilot. Yet the idiots at the corporate Round Table decide it's a great fucking idea to put me into a Mobile Suit, so they can get my ass killed for exactly no fucking reason. Seriously, who the fuck thinks of these things?! I swear, when this war is over, if i don't get a fucking metric crapton of money for my troubles, i'm going to load up my vulcans, and Management will kiss their asses goodbye with my next visit. It was going to be a long day for Nick...
  21. Well, it was meant to reference exactly that.
  22. So. It has come to this. Many of you asked that i make this thing, and just because it seems increasingly out of place to not have somewhere to classify all this artwork, i'm finally doing the thing. It's going to be tiring to upload these from my phone, but it'll happen, so don't worry if all you see at the beginning are the names of the things i've done. Eventually, pictures and descriptions will join them. I changed my mind about which Mobile Suits i post and which not. The new criteria will be known only to me. The initial post will be accompanied by the Zeta Destiny roster. Let's hope i don't have to make a second part of it. It would mean chaos. --- Mobile Suit Gundam: Zeta Destiny Anti Earth Union Group/Karaba Ships & Mobile Suits Cargo Ship (Vagabond) An old and rusty freighter that secretly served as the AEUG's placeholder flagship at the beginning of the First Neo Zeon War, to suffice for the lack of available Argama-class and Irish-class spaceships at the time, holding a team of five mobile suits on its very cramped cargo bay. Its origins are unknown, and its brethren all have no designation or model number, but they were most likely manufactured by shipyards on the Moon or space colonies for use in space, lacking many features considered essential for atmospheric escape and re-entry. RMS-099 Rick Dias (Libot Team Custom) A Rick Dias used by the AEUG's Libot Team, seemingly lacking any upgrades from the base model. Initially painted in the later red standard colors, it would later get yellow accents on the sides and head. Three units existed in this configuration, all three used during the First Neo Zeon War by veteran pilot Ada Weiss and her two wingmen, Dapper and Hans. RMS-179D GM II Cold Climate Type A GM II improved upon by the Earth Federation's engineers to better adapt to harsh arctic climates, with a small increase in performance due to upgrades on the materials used to avoid icing and minor software updates on rollout compared to the base GM II, making its systems less prone to crash after heavy damage to the circuits. Created during the Gryps Conflict and considered outdated by the start of the First Neo Zeon War, one such unit that had been captured by the AEUG during the previous war, long after the Federation's discontinuement of this Mobile Suit, would nonetheless become Benjamin Alan Grimsdottir's personal unit after his swift rise through the AEUG's chain of command, due to the ensuing resource shortage. MSA-003T Trainer Nemo A Nemo fitted by Anaheim Electronics for training purposes, with various safety locks to allow the Suit to be remotely disabled by a supervisor if trainees fail to comply with orders during training exercises. It can also be switched to the default operating mode of normal Nemos, which proved useful when the AEUG was in dire need of spare Mobile Suits at the start of the First Neo Zeon War, having their mechanics switch these units to default operation and using them like regular Mobile Suits. It was most famously piloted during said war by ex-Titans commander and ace pilot Ryder Sarka, armed with a beam sniper rifle, with his wingman Nicholas Lavie piloting another unit that would instead use the standard beam rifle. RMS-179 GM II (AEUG) A regular GM II in service with the AEUG, it has very likely been stolen during the Gryps Conflict from Earth Federation Space Force facilities, before being painted on a white/green livery to tell it apart from its Federation-serving brethren. As of the First Neo Zeon War, it had become obsolete because of the presence of much more advanced Mobile Suits in the battlefield, but resource shortages managed to force a few of these back into service, both in the AEUG and the Federation, sometimes being assigned to mercenaries that could temporarily fill the void left in the Mobile Suit pilot rosters by the Gryps Conflict's massive death toll, with more advanced grunt suits being reserved to the use of actual members of the standing force. Axis Zeon Mobile Suits RMS-119 EWAC Zack (Axis Zeon) An EWAC Zack in service with the forces of Axis Zeon, it has been ''requisitioned'' from the Earth Federation in a similar manner to the GM IIs in service with the AEUG. While boasting no further upgrades from the base EWAC Zack, it has been painted by Axis Zeon's mechanics in a green hue, in an attempt to return the Federation-manufactured Mobile Suit to its roots with a respectful homage to the Principality of Zeon's iconic MS-06 Zaku II. AMX-003 Gaza-C (Artemis MacGriever Custom) A Gaza-C painted in a jet-black with lime green color scheme by its pilot, complete with matching optics, it would be the first Mobile Suit of Axis Zeon pilot Artemis MacGriever during the First Neo Zeon War. While the black paint is certainly stealthier than that of regular Gaza-Cs and their hot pink bodywork, the green accents and cables still turn a lot of heads when it is actually spotted. Earth Federation Forces Mobile Suits RMS-119 EWAC Zack (Earth Federation) An EWAC Zack in service with the Earth Federation Forces and the Earth Federation Space Force, painted by default on a white and black color scheme reminiscent of old Airborn WArning & Control System airplanes used prior to the invention of Mobile Suits, which can still be found at air and space museums. This default paintwork was introduced by the Federation shortly after the Titans disobeyed the Federation's orders to disband, to differentiate the EFF's EWAC Zacks from Titans-operated units. This policy would later be applied to lots of Mobile Suits that were commonly associated with the Titans but were not to be scrapped, in an attempt to rebuild the general public's trust in the Federation. Titans Remnants Mobile Suits RMS-108 Marasai (Titans Remnants) A Marasai operated by organized remnants of the once all-mighty Titans. It has been painted in the colors of its new faction, which frequently use it to revolt against the Earth Federation for its ''betrayal'' of them, among other nefarious means, such as hijacking unsuspecting space freighters for their supplies. Other Mobile Suits Pending Rejects Currently none!
  23. I still can't get over why this RP is named Zeta Destiny instead of Advent of Zeta.
  24. I'll cut my losses at this point. I've tried to find a course of action that would allow Nick to fight on, but any movement his MS attempts will prompt Grim to kill him, which Nick is aware of, meaning he wouldn't do anything on purpose, even if I ordered him to. So the win goes to Roromi. Good game, mate. It's been fun.
  25. Woooow. I have now seen everything in this fucking life. Darrin, add this to my list of strange sightings: a guy who hasn't ever heard of sleeping pills. "Dude. Stop. You're crossing the line there." Who are you to lecture me on morals, you... "..." Well, i was supposed to make myself loved, not hated... damn it, Nick. You had one job. "He's probably punching your face into that tiny skull of yours tomorrow morning, you aware of that?" Just SHUT THE FU- Click!
×
×
  • Create New...