[System]
Alias: Cagehead

Gender: Male

Alignment: Helios

Skills: Considerably intelligent. Capable of calculating complex equations in his head, fluent in several languages (Latin, French, Arabic, German). Tested positive for a mild psionic presence, although he barely registers more than a standard deviation above normal. Can see why kids love the taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Powers: Technically none, although his research has led to the creation of several rather interesting devices that help make up for it.

Equipment: His ever-present clipboard that he's constantly writing on. His attaché multitude of testing devices, including a scanner designed to read ambient energy sources, his laptop, and his Cerebral Amplification Generation Engine. Pocket watch. Phone.

Personality: Stern and unforgiving. Dr. McNivens is a hard man, one who does not tolerate waste or frivolity. He's rather obsessed with his work, and considers himself a visionary in what he refers to as the field of "Quantum Esoteric Field Testing". Actually doesn't care much for Helios, but he's more than willing to work with them if they provide the funding he needs. He is not a people person. He's claimed that humanity as a whole has been dragging its feet, and he's determined to push mankind forward into a new age of enlightenment and understanding. Considers most people who aren't himself to be an idiot and wasting his time.

History: Rodney McNivens had a rather interesting childhood. After getting perfect marks throughout school, he accelerated through academia, although he was often chastized numerous times for refusing to pay attention in class and taking his projects in odd directions. Tended to stargaze quite a bit as he was growing up. Applied for a number of research grants after finishing his education, most of which were denied under grounds of being "nonsensical", "incoherent", or in one case "batshit fucking crazy".

Finally, after three dozen different labs rejected him, he was accepted into Helios. While the main research branches in the corporation didn't want anything to do with the visionary, he was eventually admitted into one of the more esoteric laboratories, the Fennerman Special Research Group. While The Fennerman Group wasn't the most popular or well-organized research group, its study with experimental and bizarre subjects fit Dr. McNivens perfectly.

Dr. McNivens rose through the ranks of the Fennerman Group fast, eventually rising to the position of top researcher. His iron fist tendencies has set him up in almost direct control of the small research laboratory, and while the subjects it studied were considered odd at first, he took them entirely off the rails, determined to break the pitiful bonds of human understanding and destroy the preconceived notions of Euclidean physics. Thanks to his Cerebral Amplification Generation Engine, he ended up with the nickname of "Cagehead", although uttering this name out loud is grounds for immediate dismissal from The Fennerman Group.

Appearance: Tall, thin, and straight-laced. Wears glasses that he tends to fiddle with. Slicked back hair, and tends to switch back and forth between a suit and his lab coat. Not a very athletic person.

Other: The Fennerman Special Research Group isn't a very large or powerful institution. It mostly consists of Helios's side-projects, ones that might have some potential but are considered too "out there" to be given priority. While Dr. McNivens might travel quite a bit, the main headquarters for The Fennerman Group is located within the Skyreach Mountain Range, a perfect place to keep the more stranger projects out of sight. Both to provide the group with the privacy needed to work with their more delicate subjects, and to keep it out of the way of Helios's main focuses.

[User]
Vivian Goodman (Martyr)

---

"I've told you before and I'll tell you again, for the last goddamn time."

Vivian's tongue burned as she slammed the door to her locker and snapped the padlock shut before spinning around to face the triad of her fellow Freedom Fighters looking on at her hungrily. She could feel the air beginning to heat around her mouth and eyes, but she could still hold off on her abilities. She wasn't without her control. Vivian's tone was warm and cooing, but had the slightest hint of venom.

"I tend the medbay, I heal the injured and I console the mourning as well as I can. That is my job. My duty. I refuse to get out there and become a part of the problem that I am working to solve."

With an impatient huff, she cuffed a dangling piece of short hair behind her ear and grit her teeth. They were becoming more and more persistent with each person that was brought to her. It was terrible. Horrible. Burns and bulletwounds and dismemberments and blood and guts everywhere. It was non-stop. All she wanted to do was to try and stem the tide of violence that came spilling in through her medbay doors every time there was a major conflict. "Come on," One of the rebels pleaded, "With your light-show bullshit we could really hit them where the sun don't shine, y'know?"

She turned from them and walked from the locker-room over to a basin to wash her hands. The water was cold and her hands let off a belch of steam as she shook them dry. Her expression was completely unamused. Looking him in the eye proved less welcoming than she anticipated, as they flinched away from her icy glare. "First of all, really? A pun was supposed to convince me? Come on, guy." She planted her boot forward and stopped at the doorframe between the lockerroom and the main floor of the medbay. Vivian may have been a shrinking violet when dealing with her patients, but she was fervent in her beliefs otherwise. She was not a violent woman. She vowed to do no harm, even before she qualified for her schooling.

"Second of all, no. No, and that is final."

[Assistant]
Jack Hawke, Shadowjack;
 Insurgent Countermeasures And Reactive Ubiquitous Strike force (ICARUS) Command
 Helios Corporate, Arcadia.
___________________________________________________________________________

Jack was pacing around his office casually, his hand placed thoughtfully on his chin and his arm crossed over his chest, comfortably tucked against him as he looked at the active roster for ICARUS, his private company of soldiers and innovators that he always trusted to carry out his directives, or rather those of his boss, who was none other than the CEO himself. It wasn't often that Mr. Cypher would come down with a direct order for them, but it seemed as though something was needed of him and his men.

The meeting earlier had been swift, and the details of it were kept scarce. Jack wasn't even sure that anyone else knew about the meeting. It wasn't broadcasted through any channels, there were no summons. He simply walked right through the door with files in hand and took a seat.

The masked man shook his thoughts away as he came back to the matter at hand. ICARUS needed more agents, more operatives than the common soldier he could call upon. Jack grew rather tired of having robots around all day, and wanted some new talent. He quickly put up some fliers and sent out broadcasts to every Helios base in existence, hoping. To draw the attention of at least a few people.

Icarus had been created as the main instrument of justice against the terrorists who called themselves Freedom Fighters. He laughed to himself as he considered them. "These nimrods need to get it in to their thick skulls that all they're doing is causing the problems that justify whatever actions we take. You'd think that would occur to at least one of them!" he spoke out to the room, as was his habit. However, unlike most people, he was answered back.

"Well, Jack, some people just aren't as insightful as us."
"Or as capable."
"Not nearly as good looking."

All these voices came from around the room, as shadowy figures stood at each point, their hand upon their chin, arm crossed over the chest.

"Aww, thanks Jacks, you're all too kind." he replied to his clones as they gave their encouragements. "I mean, we could work this ourselves, sure. But we need more than a handful of Jacks in this card game" He said aloud once more, looking to the incoming communications and hoping to find some recruits, or at least returning team members.

"Y'know, five of a kind is an unbeatable hand."

[User]
Seeking Intelligent Logistics Assault System (S.I.L.A.S.)
Armoury and Weapons LockerHelios Headquarters, Arcadia

The Seeking Intelligent Logistics Assault System, or Silas, sat on a bench in the Helios Armoury, silently cleaning his knife. The bench creaked with half a ton of metal and wires, his imposing 7'3" tall statue sat scrutinising the blade for any bloodstains or imperfections. His photoreceptor 'eyes' glowed blue in the rather dim lighting. He was a rouge war robot turned mercenary who was stuck here for the time being, but was fine with the amount of money offered. He looked up when his communicator bleeped. Attached was a file on an important member of the Metahuman terrorists. He opened the file and stated analysing the details.

[://<CONFIDENTIAL>FILE: DATA ON {NEW TARGET}: TARGET CODE: 'MARTYR': <BEGINNING FILE>

Name: Vivian 'Viv' Goodman

Race: Metahuman

Skills: No combat training. Well-educated. Trained in medicinal care and first aid. Skilled long-distance runner and climber. Good eyesight.

Powers: Photokinesis, Wound Transferral and Regeneration.

Appearance: Vivian is lean and is 5'2". She has a slightly tanned skin tone and has blue eyes. Her hair is black and has somewhat of a pixie cut. She is usually seen smiling, and her lips are riddled with small cuts. She is lithe and wiry from continuous cardiovascular exercise and training. She wears practical outfits, usually consisting of cargo pants, long-sleeved shirts, heavy jackets and work boots, usually in brown and black. Light sometimes shines from her eyes and mouth when using her powers

<SEE IMAGE>

Mission: Eliminate at all costs.

<END FILE> <CLOSING FILE>\\:]

"So, my first mission in this world," Silas said, staring at the image of the young woman, his voice metallic and slightly distorted as he closed the file and kept his combat knife. He picked up his signature Dispatcher Handgun and loaded it with Helios-manufactured high penetration explosive rounds, and spun it. He knew his target probably wouldn't last very long, but then again she had powers. A real challenge.

Standing up, he began making his way to ICARUS command, some sort of newly-established elite soldier team. He wanted to see their skills.

"Let's see how tough its inhabitants really are."

[Assistant]
When the call had gone out for more capable agents, the doctors had realized it was time to finally field test their weapon. A project long in the works, a soldier who would match even the most capable of mutants in combat. Armed and armoured in the best technology Heliod could provide, and nearly unkillable. He was the Fist of Heliod, the genetically engineered killing machine.

Clad in his full armour, Micheal walked through the door, as well as some of the wall on either side. His broad armoured frame left imprints with each step, a walking tank with the power of a bulldozer in each punch. His very steps left imprints on the stone floor, each boot lined with the text 'Heliod was here', left firmly printed into the rock. Perhaps one might have found this funny, but it was clear from Micheal's face that he did not. In fact, he looked like he would find Funny and kill it's mother.

"I heard you needed capable men. I am ready to serve Helios in any way necessary." The voice was deep and strong, although just slightly inhuman in nature. It was hard to mimic the human voice perfectly, and while nobody could quite define what it was, Micheal sounded.... off. Like a doll that looks so human, but just a little bit too plastic. "Where is the enemy?"

[User]
Max was making his usual runs going from one building to the other, collecting money from the owners since they needed to for protection. Max loved the life of crime and was very close to joining the freedom fighters but money is what he loved most. Since Helios is actually willing to pay a lot of money just to bring down the freedom fighters so well Max gave command to his right hand man since Max will be gone for awhile. There is another thing that Max loves and that's spending money especially on explosives which he stores all of them in his penthouse. He keeps them in a display case in secret room that he built when he got the penthouse, you could call it a firework collection.

Anyway Max and couple of other guys finished counting all the money they collected after getting back to the penthouse. Max went to his wardrobe and got out a black tuxedo to wear for when he goes to sign up for Helios. So after all that Max went down the elevator down to the lobby where he went out the front doors and got into his limo...well not actually since it's stolen. His limo driver drove him near the Helios headquarters and Max thought that he should walk from there. With that he stood in front of the doors to the HQ and thought that this was it, the time in his life where he will get to face enemies that actually have skills for once. Then Max opened the doors and noticed that a few bit of people were already here. "I heard you needed capable men to bring down the freedom fighters and I came here to deliver but of course if you've got the money," said Max with enthusiasm.

[Assistant]
Dr. Rodney "Cagehead" McNivens
Insurgent Countermeasures And Reactive Ubiquitous Strike force (ICARUS) Command
_________________________________________________________

The door to Shadowjack's office opens, as Dr. McNivens walks in, straightening the dark purple tie that barely stood out from his black suit. He glanced around the room, long nose crinkling in disgust at the other occupants as he sat down at an open chair and set his attaché case on the floor next to him. He felt...trapped. Closed in by these closed minds that surrounded him in this obnoxiously tiny office. Brutes, the lot of them. Ignorant, mindless drones used to taking orders and following commands without thought. And his clones. And, from the sounds of it, a mercenary, of all things. How utterly dreadful. But, no matter, he would make use out of whatever tools Helios gave him, meager as they are.

Taking off his glasses, Dr. McNivens pulled a small cleaning towel out of the breast pocket in his suit and started cleaning the lenses, not even bothering to look up at Shadowjack or the others in the room.
"Do not misunderstand my intentions in joining this...unit, Mr. Hawke. I care nothing for whatever political agenda you are working under, or for this revolution you are attempting to do combat."
He sets his glasses back on his thin face, peering over at the masked soldier. The contemptuous disdain in his expression was clear as day.
"However, I have been hearing reports that these 'freedom fighters' may possess certain items and information that could prove useful to my research, and joining this decidedly motley travesty is the fastest way to procure it. My considerable talents would undoubtedly be useful for you to utilize, and you" meat shields "are the safest way to escort me to my goal. You have your mission, commander, and I have mine. Understood?"


[System]
Age: 13
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Personality: A normally outgoing and friendly person, who is superstitious and has a knack for getting involved in things that aren't usually her problem. She is good at reading the atmosphere and a bit shameless. While those traits have remained, extended usage of the Level Upper program has had some effect on her, making her jealous of the power that she has gained, and determined to keep it at all cost. But in spite of this, she is still a good person at heart.
Bio: Born outside of Academy City, Ruiko moved there at a young age after she decided to become an Esper, leaving her family behind in the process. In spite of her desires though, she was unsuccessful in this, and was classified as a Level 0. Nonetheless, she was able to become friend with Uiharu Kazari, and then later on Misaka Mikoto and her friend Kuroko.

Surrounded by such people, it was only a matter of time before the normally apathetic Ruiko became envious of the fact that all her friends had powers while she didn't. Hearing a rumor about a program called the 'Level Upper', she investigated and managed to obtain a copy, though she refrained from using it at first. This was changed by two factors, the first being Mikoto's claim that levels and abilities weren't important, when they were the entire reason that Ruiko had come to Academy City in the first place. The other was being caught helpless during a battle between Trick and Kuroko, where the latter triumphed but was injured.

In the aftermath of that fight she used the Level Upper program, and manifested the Aero Hand ability. While keeping it secret at first, Ruiko was forced to reveal her ability during an attack by Skill-Out, where she was able to save some people and aid in putting an end to the fight. But this led to a confrontation between her and the present Mikoto, during which her MP3 player was fried by her Electromaster ability.

Ruiko ran off, and was eventually able to use her skills to track down the creator of the program, Kiyama Harumi. Harumi gave her a new copy of the program, and after Ruiko informed her that Mikoto was looking for her to put a stop to the Level Upper experiments, she agreed to let Ruiko help her in stopping Mikoto, or at the least delaying her.

At first this took the place of misinformation, Ruiko spying on Mikoto and informing Harumi of her efforts, and leading her along false trails to dissuade her and Judgment's investigations. This lasted for some time until she was discovered, and forced to flee to Doctor Harumi's lab to avoid arrest by Judgment. There she helped to prepare to defenses, to await the inevitable.

Abilities:
MP3 Player - A device for playing music, which contains the Level Upper program. This program can stimulate brainwaves in such a way so as to allow for the rapid development of Esper abilities.

Aero Hand - An Esper ability that allows one to ceate ejection points for air on an object with a touch. This can be used to propel objects through the air, or to simply create blasts of air when an object cannot be moved. There tends to be a delay depending on the user, and the strength is also dependent on a users level.

Saten can only use this ability while under the influence of the Level Upper program, but while so she tends to display abilities around that of a Level 3
Universe of Origin: Toara Kagaku no Railgun AU (Certain Scientific Railgun)

[User]
Nathaniel the Magician
Sydney, Australia, Arcadia-1

---

Nathaniel groaned as he awoke, the Staff of Gladstone sticking into his ribs. Getting up as quickly as possible, he grabbed his staff and searched his surroundings. Futuristic City in the desert. Pretty standard. "So this is Arcadia-1, huh?" He muttered under his breath. Das Jotunheimen has been trying for ages to get a powerful agent into multiversal anomalies such and it seems that he was the one that was chosen. His mission was clear. Steer the Dark Outliners away from his organisation to avoid a three way war that would reveal Das Jotunheimen. Other than chaos, secrecy was what his bosses valued the most. This was also the first time they gave him a mission other than "Make havoc".

The Magician was told to get the attention of a being named the Ethereal who could get him a position into the shadowy group. He didn't know how he had received this information. He has only ever seen his bosses once (the only one to have done so). The information just popped inside of his head like every other time he switched universes. Shaking his mind about thoughts of shadowy corporations and their mysterious bosses, he went back to the situation at hand.

"How do I get this Ethereal's attention?" Explosions and levelling the city might've worked but Nathaniel was also informed of the different factions in play. His mission wasn't with the Goa'uld nor the Imperium. Something subtle but enough to garner the attention of some alien lackey. He needed to be subtle but eye catching as well. He needed to show power. But first, he needed guards before summoning such great spirits. He summoned both Sonya and Duros in a short while, feeling his magic deplete ever so slightly. The apparent female of the two winked at him while the Sandman just glared at everything and nothing at the same time. "You need to guard me while I summon Ramuthra, I'll explain this all soon." Sonya almost opened her mouth to speak before shutting it, turning around with Duros to search the perimeter.

Nathaniel summoned Bartimaeus after several incantations, the very large lion appearing he used to anchor himself to real-world appearing next to him in a cloud of smoke. "I am known by many names mortal! The Serpent of Silver- Oh. Hi boss." The Magician sighed at his antics before waving it off. "We need to merge again, to summon Ramuthra this time." His loyal companion opened his mouth as if to speak but he cut him off quickly. "I'll explain later." Bart shrugged and manifested into his purest form before entering his body.

Merging was a really weird experience but it had it's benefits. Larger than normal magic storages were very useful when summoning powerful demons. "Okay, fine. Let's do this then, I haven't said hello to Ramuthra in a while." Nathaniel rolled his eyes before starting his incantation. Most incantations are very simple, usually translating it in English works 99% of the time. However, Greater Spirits tend to be more fickle beings. And so, Ramuthra's incantation is several pages long and is a mix of Arabic, Latin, French, Russian and Japanese. He was an asshole.

Finishing the last two words of Latin (he believed that it was all gibberish really), Nathaniel began to summon Ramuthra the Most Powerful. The great blue dragon towered above him, letting out a huge great roar. It's aura forced Sonya and Duros to their knees, the ground beneath the spirit changing states almost constantly. The ground shook, fire sprouted from everywhere, it was as if the elements themselves reacted to his arrival. And there was The Magician, calmly waiting with his Amulet for his most powerful summon to calm down. After several minutes of showing off, the Dragon looked down at his master.

"You better have good reason for this Nathaniel." The Magician panted a little but soon straightened himself up as Bartimaeus exited out of his body and quickly leaped over to where Sonya and Duros were. "I need no reason to summon you, Ramuthra." The dragon winced at the use of his true name before smirking. "Well then, master. What do I do now then?"

Nathaniel smiled, looking down at a heat scanner attached to his wrist. The charts were off the scale, Ramuthra was giving off such high levels of energy that it couldn't be missed. "Wait."

[Assistant]
@Flamelord@dirty slime@Weird Tales@Savato

Light - Arcadia 2

Not much happened after the whole Kaiju fight. Gojira was still in a huff, but at least Light was able to get in contact with Shockwave again, Shockwave giving her a communicator. Light tried to tell the others about Shockwave, but apparently they didn't care or didn't listen as no one said. "Good job!" Or any compliments or the like. Overhearing Ryu and Gojira talking, Light asked them "Who is this Nova you two keep talking about?".

At least Ahsoka was still entertaining to be around, but she went off to go find something for the group to do and Light wasn't sure when she'd be back.

[User]
Absolis Rivard and Cyano Conablum

---

@sgtEasy@flamelord@pirouette

 As soon as Cyano showed up, Absolis lunged towards her, only to be blocked by the appendages coming out of the other girl standing near the spider. They wouldnt be much of a problem however, as moments later an explosion came from banhas side, and opened a path between the two.

 Absolis again lunged at Cyano, his sword coming in from her right. Cyano ducked and rolled under his sword, coming back up on his left side, and swung for the joints on his armor. Fortunately for Absolis, he managed to bring his sword down to parry her.

 The fight between the two would move a short distance away from the group, that way no one could get in their way. Their swords clashed, and their was silence to be found in the loud roar of their battle. No witty insults or come backs were said. Their eyes remained locked throughout the entire battle, pure hatred emanating from the both of them.

 The battle raged on, regardless of what the others were doing. Even if they finished their battle, it would be too dangerous for either side to try to break up the fight. Cyano ran circles around Absolis, coming in for the occasional blow to his joints, and then jumping back out of range to shoot at him with the multitool. Most of the shots would dissipate into his armor. Others would be blocked by his sword. Every time Cyano would come in for his joints, Absolis would swing at her, but her agility allowed her to avoid his attacks.

 The two were evenly matched, that would be clear to anyone watching. Now both had come in to close range, each one trading blows and blocking attacks. Absolis' larger sword allowed him a slight advantage, but they were again equal when Cyano brought out her Sabercloth dagger. Allowing her to block and attack. However, seeing the stalemate, Absolis leaped back and seeped in from the left with his sword. As he expected, Cyano ducked, and he took this opportunity to follow up with a swift kick. Cyano would be knocked back, and would land face up on the ground. This would be followed up by Absolis driving his sword down into the ground right above her face.

But... she wasn't there. Cyano had rolled out of the way of Absolis' attack, and he found his sword stuck in the ground. It wouldn't take him long to pull it out, but by then it was too late. Cyano, still on the ground, drove her sword through Absolis' waist, right above his leg. Her position on the ground actually making the damage done worse, as otherwise it would have gone cleanly through. The searing pain of the sword drove absolis down onto his knees. Cyano helped herself up with the sword. Pulling it down until it was stopped by where Absolis' armor continued. Now on her feet, she twisted the sword, then slid Absolis off of it. He was not dead yet, and would most likely survive for quite a while. But after she was done with him, he would definitely wish that he had died here.

 Her battle over, Cyano wiped some blood off of her lip, and turned to the other group to help out, should they need it.

[Assistant]
Ba'al and Teal'c, Ha'tak, Central USA, Arcadia-1

Well then, that had been fast. Of course Ba'al had been hoping for a face to face meeting, if only to show off, gloat a bit, that sort of thing. But he supposed that he would survive this. He was sure that they would be willing to change their tune once they had the opportunity to talk things over.

Nonetheless the camera would shift perspective, showing the Leader of the Goa'uld on his splendid throne as the conversation began. "So, you are the Alliance of Conquerors then? It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I just came from a meeting with a man named 'Nova,' claiming to be the 'God-Emperor of Mankind', and he had all sorts of interesting things to say about you. Given that we are on this world together, I figured I should stop by and introduce myself'

The Goa'uld was calm, confident, unintimidated and sure of the superiority of his fleet. Besides, if there was a serious fleet battle here then it could damage a significant portion of this planet, and he was fairly certain that they wouldn't want that. FOr now he would see how things went, as Teal'c commanded the fleet for him in the meanwhile.

---

Saten Ruiko, Conablum Labs

Ruiko noted Cyano appearing as she waited for a response to her request, or something at all really. Yet it seemed that they were to be ignored today, even as Eto advanced towards them. Ruiko couldn't help but be unnerved, even as she put on a brave face. Just what was going on here? And what was with all the innuendos they were making? They were just joking, right?

Then something began to happen, and her eyes widened as a large tree-like thing appeared from Eto's back, branches rising and moving between her and Banha. Not only that, but they began to speak as well, each of them pounding at her head and making her a bit dizzy in the process. What they were saying was hardly comforting as well, and her worry grew at the same time.

"Wha?" Her confusion was cut off as another of those things came directly at her, in an overhead arc that would otherwise crush her. In spite of her nausea she acted in an instant, Air Hand activating to push her backwards with a burst of air from her shoes, just like she had practiced so many times before. At the same time she noticed Absolis going off to fight the new arrival, while Banha managed to blast through the thing separating them, hurrying over to her.

"I'm fine," she confirmed as she was enveloped in the shield. She frowned, looking to her opponents even as...what? She couldn't help but stare at the giant spider that had appeared and was offering the humanoid spider a ride, even as a swarm of spiders headed towards them. Fortunately Ruiko didn't scare easily, especially not against things like spiders.

Nonetheless, it was obvious that this mission had gone to hell, and they had barely even started it. "Fine then," she grumbled to herself, reaching into her back pocket and producing the fullgrimm that Nova had given her, the object producing an unearthly purple glow. "Alright, back off, all of you. I don't want to, but I will use this if I have to," she yelled, making sure that they could see what she was talking about.

That said, she wasted no time in going on. "So that's it then? You just attack whoever shows up at your front door, even when we said that we had no plans of attacking you? Some company you are." Admittedly she wasn't in the best place to talk given how sketchy Academy City was in that regard, but that was besides the point, and it was a situation she planned to change when she had the opportunity.


[System]
Race: Marga's brother tells her that his best guess on her lineage would be half-human, a man from one of the space colonies probably, and then of course their absent mother. Their mother came from a race of people called the Thuboisii that travel the various galaxies, intent on expanding their people's knowledge and understanding in all matters.

Marga has inherited some features of the Thuboisii from her maternal genes. Her mind processes information quick and puzzles or problems present themselves to her easily, allowing her to find solutions rapidly. Similarly, her five senses are heightened beyond that of a full-breed human.

Appearance:

Marga's physical appearance differs very little from that of a regular human. Though perhaps shorter than average, standing at only 5'5, most of the time she is indistinguishable from the human race. However, when experiencing emotions in their extremes such as anger, arousal or sadness, her skin changes colour to the characteristic light blue and intricate patterning of the Thuboisii people. She has little to no control over the change.

Personality: Marga's personality is best described as feline for the most part. She observes those around her with a demeanour of having little interest or care in their goings on, however she is quietly cataloguing information that may be valuable to her at a later date. Furthermore, like a feline, Marga does not exactly do "friendly" all too well. Be sure that when the mood takes her or the situation arises, she can be completely charming and charismatic, often talking her way out of a dangerous situation or likewise, talking her way into someone's interests. Manipulation of people's emotions is easy for Marga. When she sees an opening in a person's metaphorical armour, she pounces on the opportunity given to her. Extracting people's secrets from them without them even realising that they are giving them away is the art form of a grifter - and Marga is no doubt one of the best. Indeed, she enjoys exercising her skills of manipulation and persuasion when given the chance, be this by deception, intimidation or seduction.

Marga's own emotions are not kept in check all too well. While she can act pious and meek, those adjectives are not what anyone who knew the young woman would use to describe her. She sees most insults as a challenge - a character fault which has led her into trouble more than once. Ever eager to prove she as earned her place among her fellow pirates, thieves and bandits by her own merit and skill and not by warming the leaders' beds, she can be rather reckless.

Marga takes the outlook on life that it is very person for themselves. Though she has her brother, she does not do herself the disservice of relying on him too much for the day may come when they are no longer together. Each person's demons and troubles are their own problem. If they fall beneath the weight and darkness of them, so be it. If a person is not useful to her, they are dispensable and that is just the way of the worlds. As a result, she constantly fears someone better replacing her role in the band of thieves she belongs to.

Skills: Marga's hard-earned place in her band of thieves is secure for the moment as she hasn't come across anyone who can exceed her infiltration skills. Whereas the tactic of others is to go in all guns blazing and take over a ship by force, Marga adopts a much more stealthier approach. Locked doors are no obstacle for her, whether she is locked out or in, as she is an expert hacker and lock-picker. Her methods of infiltration involve sabotage - rot a ship from the inside out without anyone even realising she was there. Then, her fellow thieves can attack a weakened and distressed vessel.

Another skill Marga could be considered an expert in is explosives. While she is light of foot and generally can either avoid or hack security systems, being detected can sometimes be a problem. Her plan B in such situations for a successful getaway are her trusty explosives. BOOM.

Marga is rather proficient in such areas of climbing, abseiling and squeezing/crawling through tight spaces like air vents as her much smaller size and flexibility allows her to do this. Her heightened senses also give her improved hand-to-eye co-ordination. Where she lacks skill is in hand-to-hand combat and knowledge of various weaponry. Her solution when faced with such confrontation is to escape the immediate situation and recalculate her next move. Physically she is not much of an opponent, but intellectually she can bring a man to his knees.

Non-standard Abilities: Marga cannot recite to you great works of literature or poetry, but give her an untracked algorithm and she'll break it for you quicker than you thought possible. The Thuboisii have a superior brain in terms of intelligence and storage capacity than that of a lot of other races as they have unlocked more parts of the brain than most. While Marga does not posses the full extent of these attributes, she has an eidetic memory and an ability to pick up information and instructions fast.

Equipment:
Goggles (see appearance): Marga's googles can pick up changes in temperature (helpful in detecting a person's body heat) and traces of various elements. They are essentially a data base and are excellent when tracking a chemical signature of either a specific race or item.

Explosives and Mask (see appearance): Not all of the explosives Marga constructs are simply made to go boom. There are flash grenades made to blind and stun people; small, localised charges made to block passageways; smoke bombs made to provide cover and toxic or chemical bombs made for various purposes but most regularly to render a room of people unconscious. Her specialised mask allows her to breath and not experience any of the effects from her explosives.

Lock-picking and hacking equipment: Old school and high tech, Marga can turn her hand to both.

Taser gun (see appearance): Located on her left hand, Marga's taser looks deceptively like a rather nasty knuckle duster. However, the sheer amount of voltage fired from the small taser gun is enough to render nearly all species unconscious. Depending on the quality of an opponent's armour, they are not always left unconscious but will experience something similar to having received a blow to the head or having been drugged. The taser is accurate over a range of fifteen feet, any more and results vary considerably.

Bio: Marga was primarily raised by her much older brother, Caael, who is also half Thuboisii. Her brother's other half is unknown but is most certainly not human. Marga's mother left her with her brother because to the Thuboisii, nothing is more important than the pursuit of knowledge - even family. Given that neither child showed the promise or desire to gather knowledge and intelligence from the universe, they were abandoned. This is not an uncommon trait of the Thuboisii.

Marga's brother was already an established member of a group of thieves when Marga was unceremoniously left in his care. His skill as a pilot had earned him a place among one of the most exclusive criminal groups which was compromised of various experts from across the galaxies. Instead of leaving her behind, Caael established a bond with the young child left in his care and brought her into the fold. Growing up surrounded by pirates, bandits and thieves, Marga's path in life was unsurprising. Though, her rising beyond being a standard crew member to an essential and trusted member of the inner circle was.

What led Marga to becoming a member of the team breaching the Lone Star was a botched heist. She and several other members of the infamous group of thieves called the Armada were captured by the United Alliance Navy. Contrary to the saying, there is little honour amongst thieves and so, upon learning on the unique skills Marga possessed, she was given the choice between following her fellow crew members in their executions or joining a task force being sent to explore the Lone Star. Marga chose the later and began planning her escape. Well, that and her revenge. Being a saboteur herself, she could tell that her captured had not being accidental.

Quote: "Whatever isn't bolted down is my business. If I can sell it, spend it or trade with it, it's as good as already mine. And if I don't get caught, I deserve everything I steal."

********************

FYI, Though this isn't a primary focus of the story, I'm open to romance with this character if anyone is interested.

[User]
Farvis opened the storage locker and grabbed a shotgun and several extra rounds, then put on a space suit and comm system from the same locker. The medical suit he was wearing could withstand the pressure change and had its own air processing system, but it lacked the ability to heat itself, making it of limited use as a space suit. He activated the force field helmet on his medical suit for extra protection and made his way across the umbilical. He was contemplating how to get the inner hatch open when someone decided to just melt the hinges with a plasma weapon. "Are you just going to keep melting through every locked door?" he asked. "We need to equalize pressure in here. Not all of us can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of space, you know. Everyone needs to get inside so that we can reseal the door behind us, probably by welding in in place with more plasma fire."

He entered the room they had just blown there way into, pushing his way past the others if he had to, and went over to the only locker that hadn't been ransacked yet, probably because of the damage to it. To get it open, though, he was going to have to damage it even more. Hopefully it was built like most lockers, and only made of thin metal, otherwise this would hurt.

He increased his adrenaline level to Alpha-state levels and punched the center of the locker door. Hopefully the door would bend enough to break whatever minor welding the heat damage had caused and break the locker open.

[Assistant] As soon as Farvis's hand slammed through the thin metal door of the locker he felt sharp claws grabbing at his wrist, cutting easily through his space suit but catching on his sterile suit beneath. Luckily the added protection from the outer armour was enough to prevent any worse damage, but he could still feel the sharp tine sawing its way through the nano-tube reinforced material far more quickly than a conventional blade should be able to.

[User]
Jemini had the good sense to stay quiet as the Syndarin mentally screamed in her head as she worked desperately to open the door. Her emotions were playing too much with the adrenaline she depended on to stay calm and cool in high tense situations such as this, though usually she had a team behind her back that she could trust and she often had the blessing of being blissfully unaware of the true precariousness of her situations.

Unfortunately the misfits Sevyn had found herself with had no respect or no knowledge of how ships were constructed (at least the mercenaries asked her first if it was safe to blow something up), were too focused on baiting and antagonizing each other rather than focusing on the mission (at least the mercenaries she was with waited until after the job was done), psychopathic killers (at least the mercen... well okay her people were essentially a race of repressed psychopaths so she didn't really have anything to counter for this one), or some ungodly combination of all three.

She also added "sticking hands into places they shouldn't be" to the list, judging from the sounds behind her, though she admitted that she fell amazingly well into that category.

The pilot announcing that he had to leave soon and fast did nothing to help Sevyn's nerves, pounding at the impossible door once in frustration. The nearby console beeped on almost immediately after. Sevyn briefly entertained the possibly of her being capable of great and powerful technomagic before jumping onto the console and began working furiously to activate the manual override. Unfortunately the flashy user-friendly interface shut down the moment the Syndarin touched the screen which made her think of what terrible gifts she was now in control of before the screen rebooted back on, only to now show the base code.

The language the code was written in had been cutting edge when the Lone Star was first built, written specifically for it if Sevyn remembered correctly, and it was so impossibly difficult to work with that it was never released to the general public. In fact it still wasn't, and is only used in the most top of the line military software. Of course that didn't stop Sevyn from getting her grubby little hands on it and while programming certainly wasn't her best skill, she sure as hell didn't want to be blown out of the airlock.

Although, perhaps it didn't bode well when Sevyn realized she still had trouble working with the code and she didn't exactly know what she was manually overriding.

[Assistant] A grinding howl echoed through the shuttle and the status board lit up with warnings as Felix swore loudly into his mike. "Oh shit! Whatever you guys are doing you'd better hurry up. One of the big rocks just grazed my starboard engine pod and almost killed us all!"


[System]
Appearance:
Gender:
 Male
Age:
 17

Personality:
 Though coming off as a bit of a loner, and seeming adverse to conversation, Masahide is fairly well known about the social circles. An excellent student- with grades to match, an excellent study under the kendo club, and has been known to volunteer for community work around the area. However, it's not enough… Or at least to Masahide. Striving for prefection to the point of nearly tearing himself to pieces, the young boy barely has any time to enjoy his own life. It's for this very reason that he seems to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, 'If only I were better,' a reoccurring thought in his own head. It's because of this that people have seen him passed out during lunch hours at school, or seeming shaken and ill fed. But what would you expect? The pursuit of perfection is a long and excruciating process… Though less than fruitful. He'll never achieve perfection, but he'll never accept it… In the end though, something has to give. And at this point, it's looking to be the boy.

Equipment/Skills:

 Uniform: Masahide takes great pride in his school and studies, wearing his uniform fairly consistently. However, it's not uncommon for him to dress in a rather dark ensemble on off days or when out with friends… If he had any.

 Wakizashi: An heirloom of his family, this masterfully made blade bears a significant importance to his family. It is for this reason that Masahide covets it, training with it hours after school before washing up and heading for whatever activities he has planned.

 Deductive Reasoning: Always the analytical one, if the pieces are laid out before him- odds are he'll solve whatever the puzzle may be. Though it'll take a couple failures (of which he'll hold over his own head), it's only a matter of time before the solution is in place.

 Zealous: You get Masa to swear to a purpose, nothing will stop him. Even if it's simply studying up for a test, or squaring off against someone, he won't back down. The task will definitely take it's toll, and will ultimately consume him if not achieved, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

Background:

 Born to a wealthy industrial family, Masahide would want for nothing. Whatever his heart desired, his parents allotted him. However, over time- this became dull. What worth were these things? Merely baubles and trinkets of his vanity and greed. It was shortly after that realization that he began to strive to make a name for himself. First, it was cleaning the house while his father was out, then it became excelling at school, and then a physical training regime. Then suddenly, the house wasn't enough, he'd seek to assist at shelters and shrines, anything he could do to keep himself busy and making a contribution. However, when his father was diagnosed with heart complications and forced to retire, this merely kicked Masahide into overdrive. Now taking up odd jobs to make up for the lack of income (though it wasn't needed) and going without on pretty much everything, Masa would become an asset to his family. When his father ultimately passed away, many feared the grief would kill the frantic boy. Instead, it had the opposite effect, it mellowed him out. He saw what the years of strain did to his father, so he dialed back his efforts… However, he still spreads himself much too thin. Though he's trying to accept the fact there are things beyond his control, to this day, Masahide Saji will never stop striving for perfection. Even if it kills him.

Persona:

Tyr-

 Known as the Norse god of war, Tyr was considered one of the wisest and most courageous sons of the All-father, Odin. No clearer was this evident then the binding of Fenrir. The mighty wolf was the harbinger of the Ragnarok, or so the gods foresaw, and they attempted to bind the massive wolf. Every time, Fenrir broke free and grew wiser to his own strength. In a final act, the gods had dwarves craft a 'ribbon' that was strong enough to bind the wolf, yet would not openly display this prowess. Having grown wise to their schemes, Fenrir offered to wear the ribbon if one of the god's placed their hand in his mouth. Tyr volunteered. Though he lost a hand in exchange, it kept the wolf from being able to fulfill his purpose. Disaster averted- Tyr continued to retain his mantle, even if it costed him one of his hands.

Appearance:

Abilities:

Arm Chopper: Deals light Phys Damage to 1 foe and has chance of fear

Rampage: Deals light Phys damage to all foes 1x to 3x

Matarukaja: Increases attack for 3 turns (party)

God's Hand: Deals Severe Phys damage to 1 foe.

[User]
Alexei Dragunov | Hall of the Slain

It has been a daze, these past few days and weeks. Ever since he had gone through the harrowing experience of nearly losing Elena to an unknown world. He had been given a strange power, rather a calling card what Rui later told as 'Persona'. It had been a surreal experience, though he didn't remember much if he was even helpful in his first delving in the mirror world.

Even this time, he was barely making any sense of the situation. The corridor was dark and every time they try fending of the lingering malevolence that permeated the place, they'd be attacked from an other direction. It was tough time moving forward. Though he had the familiar face of Kotori, he couldn't say if he was giving a good account of himself in this situation.

The tyre iron in his hand was idle for a long time he had swung at shadows that were elusive before a strange hawk appeared. With its appearance the area was bathed in red light and their assailants was revealed. Skeletal assassins, they seemed intimidating when Ayano had brought them up but looking at their size, Alexei felt a hint of confidence. His persona was a being that handled fire and technically from what he saw, fire worked well.

He called Prometheus and said "Maragi", the persona swung his baton in a wide arc, dousing the eternal flame that it carried onto a bunch of skeletons while Alexei charged to the nearest on with an overhead crushing strike from the iron. Prometheus too mimicked his motions as he went to attack another shadow in a similar strike.

[Assistant]
Super Magical Runway F2
28/6/2015 Sunday
@i-am-x@sen

Even the spells seemed to not be making as much as a dent... It was safer certainly, but Rui was noticing something strange about it's spell defense...

"Megumi, confirm it for me. Where are all it's tendrils going when it defends a spell?", he inquired.

"Huh? Oh it's... All to the spell?... Ah!", that's right, whenever it defended from a spell, it concentrated all it's defenses to the source of the spell. Rui drew back his sword and moved into the front line.

"Keep hitting it with spells, it seems to be open when it's defending", he ordered. At the same time he summoned Askr, casting Sukukaja on himself. The Matarukaja from Akane earlier was going to be a real help. His aim when going for the flank attack was to compromise it's defenses at best, so that everyone else could wail on it.

---

Hall of the Slain F1
28/6/2015 Sunday
nyan@diabolicalrhapsody@takaru

"Okay let's keep moving", ordered Kami, leaving the room behind in a mess of fire, as the last of the stealth skeleton shadows fell beneath the party's immense counter-attack. The hawk seemed to have left, unfortunately, but according to Ayano it was heading to another dungeon... Strange. It's like it was helping everyone, still, this was a blessing, they can be at a better state when they finally reach the end of this dungeon. Eventually they came to a giant door at the top of what appears to be countless steps... The serene and martial silence of this room told them one thing... That door up there was going to be the way to the finale.

"Right, everyone make sure you're ready, then we move", he gave everyone a moment to recompose before they made the long climb... As they got closer they saw that the door was ajar... They could hear talking.

Your time has come.

---

Moritomi Home for the Disturbed F1
28/6/2015 Sunday
@floodtalon

Ryan's Garula was effective... On one of them, sending it flying back and slamming into the wall, but like suspicious and cautious beasts, they used that attack as a sign to lash out, charging at Ryan. At that moment, Tadao stepped in-between the charging shadows and Ryan, his Persona with it's giant shield managing to stop them from reaching Ryan.

"Don't worry about me, keep attacking. My Persona was made for this", he assured. Right, keep on attacking while Tadao held them back. The gigantic sword-shield of his Persona was quite reassuring, still, the party's aim was to attack from behind the safety of Tadao and his Persona Roland. Simple enough, but they needed to be quick. The one Ryan had struck earlier was getting back up, if they were this sturdy their waves of attacks needed to be consistent unless they wanted to be overrun.


[System]
Gender: Female

Age: 20

Appearance:

Occupation: Daughter of the Clan Chieftain, Scottswoman, Highlander

Skills: She can run a household and do woman's work, aye, but she is a sharp and fairly accurate shot among mostly claymore swingers. Often shadowing her father, any trouble that sets in on their lands, she will follow her father in. While most find it odd for an unmarried woman to sit in on important meetings, they respect her father enough to hold their tongues about any of her odd interests in men's work. Aibhilin can ride a war horse as well as any warrior, and this is the only thing that concerns her father, since it was horse riding that killed her mother.

Possessions: The blue plaid clan colors of the MacConnich and the sturdy bow that once belonged to her mother are her two most prized processions. Along with the peculiar pendant handed down from mother to daughter for generations. It hardly means anything but strong sentiment to the MacConnich, but it is treasured none the less. And unknown to them for good reason.

History: Aibhilin is the eldest daughter of four girls, much to the dismay of her father. While he loves each one of his daughters, they will marry and most likely leave to live with their future husbands' families. This is the usual way it is done. But Aibhilin protests in such things whenever they arise. Ever since the death of her mother when she was eleven, she has resisted such status quos. While helping their governess and nanny Melag look after her younger sisters, Aibhilin also took on matters of keeping the household as well as helping her father.

At first her father protested. It was not a young lady's place to learn the workings of men, such as balancing the books and overseeing the warriors. But the girl's persistence was endearing. As long as she kept up with the duties of the household, her father did not see the harm in her observing him do his work. And as all the girls grew older, each one seemed to take more of a liking to certain aspects of the home.

The youngest fair-haired daughter, Muira, took interest in keeping up the garden and making sure their home always smelled of flowers and herbs.

The second youngest, Dolina, with her dark black locks, took her interest in the cleanliness of the household, overseeing maids and servants alike, always making sure no creepy crawlies were about.

The second eldest, Brae the brown-haired, found her interest in the warm kitchens of the home, always creating something new and filling for those who eat in the great hall of their household.

And finally there was the eldest Aibhilin. With all her duties mostly taken over by her younger sisters, it gave her more time to shadow her father. She could do all of the household women's work, yes, but none of it interested her all that greatly. She'd much rather practice her archery as her father taught and sparred against their warriors. Or ride the great warhorses while her father oversaw their boundaries, making sure nothing was amiss on their farming and flocking lands. Or even just reading and peering over his shoulder, correcting his equations as he balanced the books.

But it was high time she started thinking about marriage, her father scolded after she corrected him one too many times. She was neigh passing twenty as plenty of young women her age were already bearing their second child. How was he to ever rest easy if she never found a husband to take care of her. The red-haired lass felt her temper spike and quickly left her father in his study.

Take care of her? Take care of her?! She didn't need anyone to take care of her! Storming down to the beach below the cliffs (a place her father hated her going to) she railed at the open misty sea. Her angry shouts could be heard only by the hissing waves and when her anger left her, she sat down on the white sands beneath her feet. Ach...what was she to do? Marriage... Such a foul sounding word that only meant restrictions on her freedom and a life of complete boredom.

Ach... What was she going to do?

[User]
Haakon tried to hide the fact that he was gritting his teeth. It had been weeks since they had seen land, and they certainly need a resupply and a dry place to sleep. On the other hand, time was not on the side of the raiders. The choice was obvious, but Haakon knew the answer would come back to haunt him.

"I accept you're offer, and I thank you for your generosity." Haakon said with a bow. He turned to Snorri. "Tell the men we are moving out. Put five of them on guard duty at the ship, and the rest come with us. I'm sure you know what to tell them regarding hospitality." Snorri nodded, and walked back to his men. Snorri was a long time raider, and he would tell the men the ground rules.

After Snorri left, Haakon turned to his host. "I am called Haakon, son of Harald, Jarl of Runhiem. If you could honor me with your name, so that we may be friends."

[Assistant]
Aibhilin relaxed some when it was certain that the young Viking laird would agree to her father's terms, but she was less than thrilled at the idea of a band of plundering pillaging dunderheads milling about the village. Much less the young dunderhead leader who could be kept within the walls of their own home. Any other lass would swoon at the sight of his broad shoulders and blue eyes, but he had still intended to invade her homeland. And now he'd be kept in her home where her three innocent and naive sisters were. No, she didn't like this one bit. Her father could bow and play host all he liked, but if this blue-eyed honey-tongued whelp laid a finger on her sisters, she'd stick him without another thought to it.

"I am Angus MacConnich, Chieftain of Clan MacConnich," her father grunted, pounding a fist proudly across his shoulder. Aibhilin had to smile at her father's show of pride. He could be rather animated when he wanted to. But then she noticed her father was looking right at her. Oh no. She wasn't going- Ugh. He was doing the 'I'm so disappointed that my daughter can be so rude to a guest' face. Her cheeks burned as though she were the little child who who used to put pranks on uppity guests all over again. Stepping forward slightly, and obviously hesitant, she dipped down in greeting before standing straight back up with her head held high.

"Aibhilin MacConnich," she said briskly. Her father bristled at her curt tone, but she just stood with her head held high. She wasn't usually so willful and stubborn, but this was a special occasion.

"I...apologize fer my daughter's lack of manners," he emphasized the three words and it made her face burn even more, "but she's her mother's child." He motioned towards the village. "If ye would kindly follow us, Jarl Haakon, we'll get yer men situated in the barracks," her father turned back to their horses and leapt on, "Ye and yer righthand man are welcome ta' stay in my home, should ye like to."

"Oh, aye, should ye like to, My Laird," she grumbled under her breath as she leapt onto her own horse with all the grace of a skilled horsemen, "Please come riiiight intah the chicken coop, Laird Wolf. Noooothin' will go array." But with all her grumbling done, she let out a huff and rode towards the village, wanting to get home to see to her sisters before the wolves came to dinner. It was a wise choice to invite them as guest as a leader, but it was also a choice she would not ever admit to liking as the keeper of her sisters.

[User]
Haakon bowed to Chieftain MacConnich. "I thank you again, sir. We will not cause trouble." We better not, at least. he thought to himself as the chieftain and his daughter rode away.

Snorri was there, shaking his head. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I don't think that girl likes you very much."

"There is not exactly alot to like." Haakon, hefting his shield and carrying his axe on his shoulder, replied. "She doesn't have much of a reason to trust us.

"That is true, and she will like you much less when she finds out how penniless you are." Snorri said with a laugh before returning to the men with orders to follow. Haakon could only roll his eyes and began to follow the host of clansman back to their village.

After only about an hour of marching, Haakon and his raiders reached the town. When Haakon pictured it in his mind, he had an image of a quaint, idyllic town with thatched roofs and people in the streets. And that's more or less what he got. He also counted on everyone in town giving him and his men the evil eye, which also happened. One old woman even spit at the ground as he walked past. By the time they had reached the barracks, the whole town knew who had arrived. Haakon turned to his thirty men.

"We won't be here long, and do not cause any trouble with the locals. Anyone caught with a local girl or robbing any villager will answer to me, personally." he emphasized the last word, making it clear that anyone who disobeyed this command could expect to swim home. "Other than that, try and get comfortable." He motioned for Snorri, and the two of them made their way to the chieftain's hall.

[Assistant]
"Yer back Aibhi! What has happened?! Is Da with you?!" Brae was the first to rush towards her as she entered the Great Hall, "Are they marching here?! Should we run?"

"If ye'll let me speak, Brae, I'd tell you what has happened," Aibhilin huffed with Brae trailing right behind her.

"Aye, let her speak, Bee" Dolina said in her calm way, though her eye swam with unease, "Tell us, Aibhi, what has happened?"

"The Vikings half way to the village by the time we reached them," she grumbled, crossing her arms and letting her sisters gather around her like ducklings, "We met with their Laird, er, Jarl and father agreed to shelter and supply them so that they might leave as soon as possible."

"They're staying?" Muira squeaked making Aibhilin sigh and feign a smile.

"Aye, they are staying in the barracks, but their Jarl," the word felt strange on her tongue, "and his righthand man were welcomed to stay here. In the guest quarters." Her sisters all started to talk at once, Brae in outrage, Dolina in concern, and Muria in fear. Aibhilin closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose, letting them ramble on. The Great Hall doors opened once more.

"I see yer sister has told ye all the new," her father said all to calmly as he strode in, "I want all of you ta listen to me. Aye, that means you too Aibhilin Duinn MacConnich." She winced at hearing her full name. Ah, she was in trouble then. Looking up at her father almost a bit sheepishly, the young women all listened to what their father said. "These men are our guests," he put up a hand when the girls' voice started to rise once more, silencing them all, "But they will be watched. Yer not to be alone in the same room wit any of them, understood? They are warriors who've been at sea fer who knows how long. I'll no' see any of ye married off to a wolf, aye?" He paused giving them all a concerned smile. "I'm gettin on in years, so donna make me have ta fight some young pup, alrigh'?"

Even Aibhilin had to give a small laugh at that. For some reason the face of the young Jarl flashed a crossed her mind. The odd styling of his pale blonde hair and the way his ice blue eyes had pierced right back through her molten glare. He was so young to be leading a band of warriors and yet he had held steady as any seasoned warrior before their entire clan, and demanded respect. Her face turned a bit red. Why on earth was she thinking about that sly wolf? Fine. She'd only ever admit that she respected his bravery. But she didn't have to like him and she sure as the sky was blue did not trust him. Looking over her pretty sisters as their father explained that the men were to be treated and tended to as guests, Aibhilin came to a conclusion. She'd keep an eye on the young wolf herself. There was no way she was going to let there even be a chance of him getting near her sisters. Everyone had heard the stories of the Viking's and their silver tongues.

"Is that understood Aibhilin?"

"Wh-What?" she stammered caught off guard by her father addressing her. She turned red as her sister snickered. Her father just sighed and raised a brow.

"No quarreling wit' our guest, ye hear me lass?" he grunted, but gave her a grin, "Aye? Now off wit ye. Go help yer sisters." Aibhilin rubbed her cheeks as her sisters whispered teasing comments about just what she was thinking about. Tickling them to drive them off, Dolina stopped her. The reserved lass just smiled her ghostly smile and knitted her brows a bit. The elder sister gave her a questioning look.

"I know I usually show guests ta their rooms, but..." She didn't even need to finish her sentence. Straightening her back, Aibhilin smiled and put a hand on her sister's shoulder.

"Jus' get the rooms ready and I'll show them ta the quarters," she put up a finger, "But get it done fast, aye? I'll no' have those dark, long-lashed eyes around any wolf. He'd gobble ye up in a moment!" With a laugh she tickled her sister, who was sent running off to her duties. With a small laugh to the empty room, the red-haired girl's smile faded. Right then. Time to see to the Laird Wolf then.

Leaving the Great Hall, she started her way to the barracks. He'd probably be overseeing his men. Peering in the large building, she put both hands on her hips and tried to look as intimidating as possible. It probably didn't work, but she felt intimidating. Or at least mildly confident. Somehow on her trek here those blue eyes had tried to drift through her thoughts again and she had slowly and steadily lost a good bit of her calm. What was it with those eyes? She had seen blue eyes before, plenty of them, but his were somehow more impressionable than the rest.

Aibhilin didn't like it. She didn't like feeling all vulnerable and shaken. So she scanned over each man milling about in the barracks with her head high and face impassable, if still a bit red. Finally she spotted him and marched right up, tapping him on the shoulder. The odd tingling feeling from touching just a shoulder was too warm and made the shaken part inside her feel even more unsteady. Placing her hand back on her hip, she tried not to frown so hard.

"Yer rooms are ready, Jarl Hakkon," she said briskly, "If ye'll ever so kindly follow me." The polite words sounded a bit to false on her tongue, but she managed a small smile at least, though it probably didn't look quite right. Ah well. She had tried.


[System]
Gender: Female

Age: 17

Former life: Third year student

Clubs: Cooking club

Gear: A lavender backpack containing a few feminine writing instruments. A couple of small cookbooks. Her most treasured posession is a ceramic white cutting board with frilly engravings.

Skills:

As the former star of the cooking club, Yumemi is talented in creating delicious meals. She excels at whipping up homemade japanese classics, but can also bake western pastries with ease.

The skill and dexterity she displays while using knives in the kitchen is so great that some would call it "concerning".

Another talent, one that she tends to keep to herself, is her peculiar ability to sneak around without being noticed.

Likes

Blunt knives are dangerous when cooking, you know? You end up applying more force and before you know it, you've hurt yourself! That's why it's important to always keep your knives sharp and pretty, eheheh~

* Proper kitchen safety!
* Insects and arachnids
* Cheesy romance movies
* Chocolate
* Passionate, unstoppable love

Dislikes

* Rainy days
* The cold
* Questions concerning her family
* Hunger
* Unnecessary obstacles.
* Missing ingredients

Personality:

Resourceful, sweet and friendly is the best way to describe Yumemi. She's sugar, spice and everything nice! She's diligent, knowledgeable on the facets of day to day life and as happy go lucky as a girl can be. At times, she can be a bit of an airhead. She occasionally exhibits strange and mysterious behavior, disappearing for hours with no concrete explanation.

Biography:

Childhood for Yumemi was an unpleasant experience. Her mother ran away when she was young, leaving her alone with her unstable alcoholic of a father. She effectively raised herself, doing all of the household chores that needed to be done while juggling school and friends. It wasn't easy, but she soon learned to appreciate her life.

As she grew older she slowly developed an obsession with romance. It began as a form of escapism for her and rapidly spiraled into a problem. Whatever small pockets of free time that Yumemi had would be spent binge watching anything and everything about romance. As a high school girl she wishes to follow the footsteps of countless big screen heroines and find pure, total love. By any means necessary.

Other: Yumemi shows no remorse or sympathy towards harming zombies and inappropriately treats them like a minor annoyance. Has no qualms about getting her uniform bloody.

[User]
Yuuki Kenji

---

 7:20
Yuuki Residence

---

 Should we cut down the size of the festival this year? Or reducing the fund of the baseball team? The track team needs some gears badly. But it does not seem like they really need it do they? How about the asking for more fund? Nah, it would probably get shot down immediately. Cutting the unnecessary tea and snacks seems like a good idea. And for Christ sake, how much paper do the literature club need? Are they planning to chop down all the trees? And the Cult club, what are they  The boy sighed, looking at the opened window before looking back at his note. Most of the fund had been distributed reasonably, with some problems like the Cooking club with their stupid thousand layers cake or the literature unreasonable rate of using paper. All is needed to put to check and balance, and Kenji needed to submit this plan by the end of this week.

"Just today, another woman was assaulted by a strange man. Luckily, she was rescued and transferred to the local hospital. Based on her description, the man was in his feral state…"

Focusing on his natto, Kanji glanced over the news with a flashy red title on its first page. "The End of the World?" or so to speak, providing some brief summaries of what others news had provided before. There was nothing new besides from the nearby stores are having a promotion on seaweed. But Kanji just laughed off before putting the paper on one side, unaffected by the shocking "revelation" of some tabloid newspapers. Truly, the thing can only be used by his mother for some gossips and debatably juicy materials.

"Thank you for the food," Kanji said, loud enough for his mother to overhear but small enough to keep the motherhood's conversation between his mother and the beloved sister to flow. And then the usual things, cleaning his own dishes, taking the pills for his mother, reminding he will come home late,... Another year is coming. Another year will soon go by.  Kenji thinks before he said goodbye to his mother, who is growing older by the years.  She used to be able to accompany him to his first-day school , Kanji thinks before giving his mother a final wave. That humble soul, withering away as time passed on, is still observing him and her from afar, fulfilling her long-promised oath.

And out of his hearing range, Kenji's mother whispered before slowly closing the door, "Have a nice day."

"Mother, would you ever leave us?" A soft voice broke out in the night, following the sound of something sobbing at the night. The woman darted to the lamp and turn on the light, fear of what happened to her son. Kenji, rubbing his eyes, remained to ask her the same question as she begins to check if he got hurt.
"Why did you ask?" The mother asked him back, before rubbing his back and getting him another cup of warm water.

"I'm scared."

"Oh come on, baby. Don't be. Did you have a nightmare?" The woman said to him before wiping another tear from his faces. Her expensive nightdress, now soaked with the little infant's sweat and tears, continued to be used as a napkin to take away her son's fears.

The little boy didn't say much, but his soft nod was enough to inform her. And his sister, after hearing from their mother, felt comfort in such loving had fallen back to her sleep of Doraemon and Shin-chan. But the boy, still painted with fears from his dreams, hugged her tight and refused to set her free from him.

"I will always be with you." She said, before giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Now, would you like another bedtime story? I'll make this a secret if you promised." The woman pulled out a collectible of Grimm stories, gleefully watching her son's streams of tears began to dry.

"Once upon the time..."

[Assistant]
Genjo Arata

---

6:30 - 7:45
Genjo Residence

---

6:30, the same time Arata awoke each day. This morning his phone had selected a ONE OK ROCK song for him to listen to as he dragged himself out of bed. He grabbed his smartphone and turned the alarm off, his pyjamas were baggy on him, his top clearly showed he didn't have much muscle in his arms and his bottoms were a bit too long for him.

He stumbled downstairs, into his kitchen, as he put a piece of bread into the toaster he checked his phone for news. He disregarding most of the articles and quickly went to see if anything about his favourite anime were on the news sites. He briefly put the phone down whilst he buttered his toast. As he was eating he put on the latest episode of his favourite anime.

There was no one in his house, his mothered had sent him text saying that there was an emergency at work and she'd gone in earlier than usual and she'd made him lunch, leaving it on the counter. His Dad, a British man, had gone home for a month or so and was meant to be returning soon, it was not as though Arata saw him much anyway as he would be in a casino somewhere. Arata sighed, finding loneliness peaceful but boring.

He thought about his parents as he buttoned up his shirt, the final part of his uniform, apart from the bag he needed to grab. He picked up the backpack by one of its straps, as he was about to walk out of the door, he realised he'd nearly forgotten his dice. He grabbed a handful of six sided dice, around five, all that were purple and slightly transparent. With that he left for school, he had about a twenty minute run in front of him, but he loved to run anyway and he'd be early today.

[User]
---

Hey, living in the poor side of town had its advantages. The most important one was that since you knew all the thieves around, your chances of being mugged were drastically lower. The second, less important one, was that people tended to respect those who worked hard to get a better life.

Asahi was one such person, and nearly everyone in her neighborhood knew her. Whether they knew her because they were friends or because she'd given them a juicy 'fist sandwich' was another matter, but the respect was there.

She covered her mouth as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. She didn't jump in surprise when the car engine nearly exploded, as she was used to the sounds now. This was one of the wealthier people in the neighborhood that was giving her a lift. Takeda was his name, and for some reason he liked to treat her as a little sister. She didn't care about his weird mannerisms and actually appreciated how he sometimes went out of his way to lend her a hand when needed.

"You're out early Asa-chan, what's up with that?" Takeda asked, his voice raspy like it always was. Asahi could make out some amount of concern in his tone, though. Cute.

Asahi shrugged, "A lot of noise, y'know… I couldn't bear it, so I quickly did my thing and decided to leave for school early."

Takeda chuckled, "I have no idea how you keep a straight face while saying such things, it's barely sunrise!" He said as threw her a smug sideway glance.

Upon seeing the look he was giving her, she felt her cheeks color, "S-Shut up, it's very awkward so I try to, uh… You know-" She stuttered, "I-I just try to… Oh, just shut up." She puffed out her cheeks and looked out the window at the fronts of closed stores.

After a long while, Asahi noticed the peculiar scent in the car, it was like a mix of smoke and gunpowder. "By the way, why are you out so early? Don't tell me you joined those guys, please."

Takeda's smile was wiped off his face with that question, and he was silent for a long moment.

"Nah. I was out with some friends," He looked at her for a moment and saw her skepticism as plain as the day that was just about to begin, "You know, bar-hopping and… Stuff like that."

Did he really think she was that dumb? Still, she nodded and looked out the window again, noticing the car slowing to a stop in front of the school. Without hesitation she opened the door and jumped out, making sure that she didn't forget anything.

"Thanks for the lift, Takeda! See you around." She waved goodbye at Takeda as he took off, leaving her in front of the closed gates. Now she'd have to wait a while, but anything beats listening to her mom and her mom's boyfriend going at it.

[Assistant]
Syori

School, gates

It had become a morning routine to start off with a horror scene each day. The blonde was staring into the mirror while she was fixing her hair into place. While she was peacefully doing her hair a horrified sight was seen in the mirror as se was forcefully trying to smile for practice to use it. She seemed more irritated then trying to smile, it was a devastation to look at. When she was done tying one of her side bangs into a braid she put both her hands to her mouth and pulled the corners of her lips into a more horrified smile as her brows furrowed. This sight was still painful to look at for her but it is as it is. She couldn't do anything about this except for relaxing her face, she had tried some stuff with makeup and stretching the skin on her face to different positions but it all came down to not trying to force it.

Syo dropped her hands down onto the sink and gave a deep sigh. She moved her face closer to the mirror as she studied the aspects of her face thoroughly again.

"It's my eyes isn't it... and my brows... and my mouth..."

Syo sighed again and pushed herself away from the mirror as she goggled her eyes to the side. Should she consider plastic surgery? It costed a lot but at least she wouldn't live as focused on her smile as this and seeing how she wanted to move out first thing it would take years before it would happen. Syo moved back to her room to grab her bag and headed out in her store clerk outfit. She did wear a jacket over her clothes so she wouldn't feel as embarrassed walking about in these work clothes. Her work wasn't too bad in general but it surely was humiliating to help her old classmates or any other people she knew from school.

Syo did partly ignore their talking about her but yet, it hurted inside. The only relation she did have left from her school was a childhood friend that did understand her. At least she had something to look out towards when she had to start to day and that was walking and hanging out together with that friend. Her friend was already patiently waiting for Syo to arrive at her house so they could walk towards the school together.

The chit chatted a little and generally had a fun walk, it took about 10 minutes before they arrived and just like any day they were even too early for the gates to open, nice! Syo could hang out with her friend a while longer. Most of these people that were here waiting always came around this time period. They did seem to notice Syo didn't belong here or didn't belong here any longer. It was clear she didn't belong here by the fact that she wore these work pants and would walk away when the gates opened. She did try to ignore them but accidentally made eye contact with one of them this time. She watched right into Asato her eyes and try to brush it off with the same smile she tried practicing this morning. It wasn't a great succes. Annoyingly she turned her head away while she muttered something inaudible under her breath, seemingly quite irritated.


[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 29

Stand: (Don't Fear) The Reaper

Appearance: Lindemann is halfway between the ideal German and their most hated enemy. With piercing blue eyes and slightly off-blonde hair he fits the aryan archtype, but a hooked nose and slight medeterranian tint to his skin belay an entirely different ethnicity. In the relative chill of Northern France and Germany he near-perpetually wears a heavy greatcoat, the belt of which is always left undone to flap in the wind. Beneath this he actually dresses fairly well and very much unlike a soldier, with a waistcoat, neatly polished shoes and a wide brimmed hat. He also has recently taken to carrying a pair of aviator sunglasses, tucked into a front pocket and rarely actually put on his face.

Skills: Lindmann was a ruthless, brainwashed soldier for the reich, but brainwashed didn't mean stupid. Single-minded, psychopathic and held back by only the commands of his superiors, his ability to sniff out enemy stand users and what they might be up to were second to none, and any foolish enough to challenge his stand in one-to-one combat was quickly dispatched. The perfect operative.

And a very, very large thorn in the Gestapo's side now that he's no longer under their thumb. Till has extensive knowledge of the systems that monitor stand users within the Axis territories and his knowledge of once-allied stand users is impressive to say the least. When you combine this with a proficiency in most modern weaponry and a burning desire for revenge, you have one potent package.

History: To the Nazis, Till Lindmann was irrelevant apart from one small detail; his paternal grandparents were Jewish. He never understood what joined him with the people whom he was put into a ghetto with, that part of his geneology largely a myth to him, and the quiet butcher's boy wasted away under reduced rations and the oppressive atmosphere of the slums. Still, most would call him a very resolute man, and he had to be, for failing to be resoute would let Reaper loose.

All of this was to be for nought though, because eventually Till's ticket was punched. He was placed on a one-way trip to a labour camp near Oświęcim. Crammed into train cars like cattle, an elderly priest would teach the man a breathing technique supposed to calm the mind, settle the nerves and train the body, a skill he practised even whilst brainwashed. Departing the trains, his ability was quckly discovered, and whilst others were stripped of their lives, he was taken to a seperate area of the camp. An area of sterile buildings and bright white lights, where something happened, and Till Lindmann stopped existing, and Herr Lindmann started to exist. Brainwashed, mind controlled, call it what you will, but he was a puppet to Germany and to his stand, something that has only recently changed.

Other:

Stand Name: 「(Don't Fear) The Reaper」, often just 'The Reaper' or even 'Reaper' for short.

Stand Parameters:
A
B
C
B
A
B

Stand Description: (Don't Fear) The Reaper appears as a tall, relatively thin yet still powerfully muscled figure. It wears a thick cloak that mimics the appearance of Till's greatcoat, but undearneath this has a distinctly skeletal look to it, its muscles tight against its skin, and the sinew and bone visible in places. Most notable however is that as of recently its hands have changed from their natural colour into a deep crimson, something that it did not have before.

Unusually for a stand, (Don't Fear) The Reaper is fully anthropomorphic- it expresses a personality, will and desires of its own, none of which are pleasant. Reaper represents the worst of Till; his bottled up rage, fury and terror, and were he not in full control of his mind, would doubtless use the opportunity to freely indulge in any manner of bloodthirsty delights. Till must act as his stand's conscience, but the rewards for doing so are a close-ranged powerhouse fully dedicated to its own (and thus, Till's,) preservation.

Power Description: Besides being a formidable brawler, (Don't Fear) The Reaper also boasts a peculiar ability- it can make anything sharp. This ranges from the expected (dull blades,) to the understandable but less logical, (the edge of a coat,) to things that physically cannot be sharp, such as water and sunbeams. Beyond this though, Reaper also has the unusual ability to make other things 'sharp' too; after all, language is a funny thing, and wouldn't it be a shame if that tank suddenly veered widely off course with a sharp turn?

Other:

[User]
As the group made to get into the plane, Taras merely nodded to the women as a way to acknowledge their greetings. Oscuro, an American, made up the other of the pair of women he'd be working with. Small, but dangerous - that was the kind of vibe Kiara gave off. That kind of aura could be appreciated by Taras, but unfortunately it seemed like she might be also be the talkative type similar to Cakebread Yonaka. Taras wasn't a man who would judge people on things they couldn't control, such as being unfortunate enough to be born in the United States or seeming to be of Japanese-descent despite a clear British accent, but he would happily, happily, judge enough on a first impression alone. Musical discussion was not something he wanted for a first impression, so as soon as Kiara entered the small plane Taras pushed in after her, cramming the three of them into the confining space and slammed the door after him.

...saying it was cramped was an understatement. Perhaps the two smaller women would have been fine, but with Taras inside as well there was barely room enough to breathe let alone stretch out. When the co-pilot mentioned the air would thin out, the bulky Russian man couldn't stop the small frustrated noise that escaped him. Cold, windy, cramped, and hard to breathe? What more could a man ask for?

<I'll make someone pay for this> Taras sighed under his breath in his native language. As the plane was just taking off, he already couldn't wait for it to touch down in France. It wasn't really the mission or his fellow agents that had him in such a sour mood - just that, there was a certain comfort level he preferred to travel in. It most definitely was not this. Once on the ground he'd get re-acquainted with, and hopefully not loathe, the women he was with and meet the agents already in the area, and he'd go about his mission as usual. Just... had to get through this awful flight first.

As Kiara and Chloe attempted conversation in the dismal conditions, Taras tried his best to settle in. He tucked his chin against his chest as he leaned as far back as possible, letting his eyes fall closed.

"Hope you are comfortable, ladies," he said, his deep voice dripped with the most professional tone of sarcasm, "I will take the pallet when we land. If you are dizzy do not bang anything, deal with it. Spokoynoy nochi."

His words left no room for argument, but even if the women tried to talk to Taras he'd be ignoring everyone and everything until they touched down. After that, with some breathing room, he'd be much more inclined to cooperate. For now, he used his experience sleeping in holes and trenches to block everything out and let his frustration melt away with rest before arrival in France.

[Assistant]
Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka

 Chloe listened intently, trying to make room as she was squished further against the far window. As the pilot spoke, she laughed a little bit. The plane began to take off and it was a bit unnerving. "Only the best, eh?" She remarked with a giggle. Leaning back she played some kind of beat on the pants of legs with her hands. Leaning over to the glass she watched as the ground began to fanish and fade into the faint morning fog. As Tupolev spoke she compressed her lips with an unimpressed smirk.

 "I'm already feelin' a bit sick. Sick of your attitude." She then laughed stupidly at her own bad joke. She didn't mean to genuinely insult the person of course, it was all in good fun. What a miserable flight! Where do they even come up with this stuff? They really couldn't have gotten a bigger plane? It was just ridiculous, that's all. The cargo was important, apparently. Tupolev claimed to want to take it, which was, whatever.

 Staring at Kiara, the poor unfortunate in the middle, Chloe grimaced a smile. "S'a bit cozy, innit?"

 "Reminds me a' the time I got stuck in the crawlspace under my house. Fortunately this time there's no mice. If anything it was a good thing I got down there cuz me da didn't know we had mice. Though I certainly didn't appreciate it at the time. S'what I get for crawlin' around where I shouldn't eh? Musta been oh, eight or nine at the time, can't quite remember. S'just as cold though, that's for sure, and just as hard to breathe, though for different reasons. Ah, but don't worry, I made it out just fine, as you can see." She leveled a finger pointedly at Kiara and made a knowing look.

 "Me brother, are on the other hand? Was just a bit thicker than me at the time. Some reckon he's still down there to this day. Hard to tell. One day we went down there to feed him the usual, only to find a hole in the dirt. Was caved in, but me mum recognized it as tunnel. Became a mole man, he did. Dug himself to freedom- haven't seen him since. Wish him all the best, though."  Almost involuntarily she reached into her front jacket pocket and fetched a cigarette from inside. Placing it between her lips she frowned, blinked, and then placed it back inside her pocket.

 "Moral of the story? Make the best of what's given to ya. Or just give up and become a mole man, I guess."  She said with a wistful look out the window. Smiling over at Kiara she looked at the American's hair once again than made eyecontact.

 "So, Kiara, your hair always that color? Looks good on ya that's for sure. The white bit, that is. Unless you've already gone white from stress cuz of all my carryin' on. N'which case, real sorry 'bout that." Chloe said with an apologetic shrug and a cheeky grin.

[User]
𝕶𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝕺𝖘𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖔 // 𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝕸𝖚𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗
⊰Watch the way I navigate⊱
//

"Oh, I wish, but I never really had the time to learn an instrument. I can sing a little bit, though."

Kiara had gotten a few voice lessons from an old girlfriend who worked as a singer at one of the boss' clubs; it was a fond memory, but she wasn't about to share that specific detail of her life.

The little plane was certainly uncomfortable, but she wouldn't have gotten this far without being able to deal with a little discomfort. She listened to Chloe's story with an amused smile. After having to cozy up to some of the most boring men in existence in order to carry out her hits, Kiara had learned to appreciate a good storyteller. She liked Chloe already.

"That is quite the tale. Can't say I've got anything as interesting, though there was that one time I was almost buried alive…"

She preened a little at the compliment to her hair, "Oh, thank you! It's natural. Hah, don't worry, you're making this flight much more entertaining than it would have been."

[Assistant]
Beginning Descent, T-0.2 hours

The plane had now definitely begun to go downwards. After more than two hours in the frigid fuselage, it was probably a relief to most inside, especially what with the cramped conditions. To the pilot in the front however, it was the worst of times. The small size and lack of any lights on their aircraft had meant that it had snuck by German air and ground patrols without any problems, but now came the time when they were most visible. The co-pilot was frantically trying to identify the right place to land, the pilot having to take to hedgehopping in order to avoid any potential prying eyes in the sky. Then, at last, after a torturous amount of time circling the countryside, the exact position would be discovered.

Pulling sharply to one side, he would veer the craft around, before pulling up ever so slightly. They needed to... There! As the plane thundered towards one field, flames lit up. Hay bales, he realised, set alight so that they would know where to land. Circling around once to get a proper straight at the runway, the pilot would cut the speed down and lower the landing gears, holding their breath as they brought the plane down lower and lower. Then, with a thump and a screech as wheels came against dry straw, they would make their landing. Almost as soon as they had stopped the pilot slammed open the hatch between them and the fuselage.

"GO! GO! GO! GO!"

The second all crew and cargo were out, the plane would be off again. French partisans threw buckets of water over the hay, and as the first tendrils of smoke made their way up into the mightnight blue sky, the plane would already be in the air, whirling around and gunning the engines back towards England. Hopefully the boche hadn't noticed anything; especially with the low flying they had done earlier. "Best of luck chaps," the co-pilot would say to an empty cargo dock, before pulling the flaps of his hat down tighter and focusing on the sky ahead of them.

---

"Oberführer, please."

"No." The cyborg would turn to look down at the besunglassed stand user, a faint scowl visible on his face. "If there is even a mote that it may be him, I refuse wholeheartedly." Blonde hair and blue eyes against blonde hair and blue eyes; two ideal Germans staring each other down... Although one of them had a rather interesting construction over his eye. "Besides, I am to be deployed to the Eastern Front soon. The Führer work in Russia is not yet complete."

"You were commended to me based on your courage, yet you refuse to do this?" Till's own scowl would slowly spread across his face.

"I do it not out of cowardice. I do it out of respect. Find someone else." The man would slam his mechanical hand down against the table, causing Till to raise an eyebrow.

"Very well. As you wish Oberführer." Till stood up, adjusting his tie as he did so. Turning away from the cyborg, he would calmly close the door behind him, shaking his head as he did so. So much potential... But alas, he would just have to make do with what he had. How would this impudent fool targeting the reich feel when they had the power of multiple stands staring them down? They were already dead, they just didn't know it.