[CHIMERA] Skirmish in the Ruins; Our Shadows Rise

[Deleted]

Participants: Vio Suriko @branwinters

The waves were lapping at the shores of the small peninsula, a miniscule break in the mountains on this part of the world's only real continent. Surrounded on one side by water, and on the other by sheer cliffs and inhospitable peaks, it was an alcove at the far corner of the sea, well out of the way of the main route. Appropriate, then, that it had been, years ago, a World Government research lab.

It was for this reason that the CHIMERA Corps was arriving on it's shores. As a former WG secure location, no further settlement had been allowed since it's closure. There might be some inspecting of the sealed base, but the primary purpose was to give the group a chance to train together. The soldiers were capable, but they had only actually undergone one real mission together. While the officer teams were amicable enough, there was still the awkward uncertainty of people put in an entirely new group.

The Avernus surfaced, the sea cascading from the hull as it rose. The side opened, and soldiers, carrying large wooden platforms with flotation devices on the bottom, lowered them into the water. Jumping on, the Corpsmen began paddling the first to shore, as the second was lowered in. By the time the second reached the shore, the first was already being anchored in place, and the two pairs of soldiers began lashing the two together. This process continued until there was 7, the final one being carefully attached to the hatch's bottom, other CHIMERA soldiers waiting just inside with supplies.

From the command deck, Flynn tapped a pencil thoughtfully against his temple, watching out the side porthole as the men and women brought their gear out onto the shore, chatting amicably with each other. "Proceeding as scheduled... Ensign Shuman, do we have the rotations ready?" The young woman nodded, flicking a clipboard across the room. Flynn's arm whirred up, snatching it, and brought it down for his consideration. He already had two others held in place, but moved his attention to this new information.

"Right... Split them up into the platoons, we'll rotate them around. We need one split up and manning the Tindalos boats to patrol the sea access, just in case, got that, good..." Muttering for a second, he scanned over Alyss's work, before nodding approvingly. "Good, got them on a training and rest rotation, plus guard duty taken into account. Excellent work as always, Shuman." The head of Logistics nodded, turning back to her desk, a small smile gracing her lips. While Flynn might not have noticed, being far too focused on what he was doing, at least one person did.

The CPO of the Logistics squad, Officer Jeremiah Rector, chuckled quietly and gave Shuman an evil grin. After a couple seconds of pencil scratching, he finished, and turned the paper to his superior. Breaking her momentary reverie, Shuman reached out a hand for what was supposed to be a list of their available replacement parts in case of equipment failure. What she actually received was a sketch of a shirtless Flynn, surrounded by sparkles, winking at her. Above his head were the words "You don't need cybernetics, Alyss. You look perfect to me." There was a pause as the Ensign processed what she was looking at.

Then, in complete silence, she grabbed Rector by the collar and began shaking him back and forth, glaring at him with an eye twitch. Under her breath, she hissed quietly "Jeremiah, I swear..." while her hand tensed, crinkling the drawing slightly. She did NOT see the Captain that way. At all. Though he was surprisingly muscular for a scie- "Is something wrong?"

The pair froze, heads turning toward Flynn, who was standing over them with a quirked eyebrow. Eyes flicking over, it became clear that the work had finished, as the other officers had begun filling out, headed downstairs to the hatch. Rector coughed awkwardly, and took the picture from Alyss's hand, flipping it as he did so, and tapped a figure on the other side. He had actually filled out the list properly, there had just been some... interpretations on the other side.

"Sorry about that, Captain. Miscalculated something, fixing it now." Flynn nodded slowly, and turned away. As he opened the door to exit, he turned back, face blank. "I appreciate your picture, Officer Rector, but I'm afraid I don't feel that way about you." The color drained from Jerimiah's face, and he began sputtering,shaking his head and trying to gesture to his superior officer in a pleading manner. Flynn, however, merely ducked under the doorframe and exited. After a few steps, the Longarm cracked a smile. That... had been amusing. Why HAD Jeremiah drawn the picture, though? He was fairly certain that he and Logistics Officer Chi Hoyt were starting to see each other on a regular basis. There were a few possibly conclusions, but the most likely meant that he would have to have a very awkward talk with his Logistics Ensign. At least it wasn't as bad as the rumors about him and his sister. He had actually been very close to decapitating a few people before Weremengard solved the problem diplomatically. Fixing those walls had been a pain, but at least the origin of the rumors had gotten transferred.

Heading out to shore, Flynn stretched, arms shaking slightly, and turned about. "Right. Mari, Suriko, Flynt! Over here! Marines, find your platoons and get your gear sorted." Cracking his neck, he sat down, snagging a chair from the nearby supply pile and placing it under himself. Adjusting his tie, he removed a map from inside his coat, and leaned back. Close by, a few Marines opened the cookware bin. A black snout slowly extended from among the pots and pans, then with a leap, Shuck popped out of the bin, prancing over to Flynn and resting on his feet.

[Vio]

There was much to be said for riding in a submarine of such scale as the Avernus, but unfortunately most of the positives and marvels of the technology of submersible craft were lost on Mari Anette. She was simply glad to be able to breathe fresh air again, even if said air was foreign in nature. Being cooped up inside a vessel travelling beneath the waves was not her idea of smooth sailing, though even she had to admit that she was starting to get used to it… slowly. Still, being able to breathe again was a blessing to her throat and lungs, and she was surprisingly quick to emerge from the submarine once it had surfaced. Before her stood towering cliffs of deep red hue, the geological features that belonged only to the world’s main continent – the Red Line. Such mighty faces towered above all else, obscuring much of the land’s true features from the view of all but those who could find access. However, that was not really why she was here.

Stepping out onto the wooden walkway, assessing its sturdiness with those first few tentative steps, the Warrant Officer advanced slowly across the waves that separated the submarine and the shoreline. Limited by size, the Avernus had been incapable of coming much closer without risking damage to its external hull or even getting jammed on the rocks and reefs that surrounded this particular section of the landmass. However, the secluded nature of this shore – an area once used by the World Government – meant that detection by roving pirate forces and such would be highly unlikely. That did not stop her from feeling nervous, however, for this land was new to her. Besides that, due to her previous experience with abandoned areas of naval property, she was rightfully worried.

Dressed in her typical Marine uniform, adapted from the standard seaman’s garb (but with pink instead of blue), Miss Anette’s appearance was a lot brighter than usual. Through training and experience, the youngster’s complexion – while still decidedly fair – possessed a much healthier radiance to it now that she had disembarked and regained her composure. A slight rosiness to her cheeks, though very faint, made all the different to this girl’s frail physique. Even though she had gained neither height nor weight, save for the barely noticeable bit of muscle mass in her arms, her stature seemed ever so slightly more imposing. Cherry blossom locks had switched from their typical single plait into a pair of tight buns, mirroring the trademark style of Mahogani’s carved head, and secured by pale blue bobbles.

I bet you’re glad to finally be out and about, aren’t you, Teak…? Silently casting a query to her latest ‘friend’, the fair femme wore a small and mousy smile upon her lips. Her most recent creation had not been an easy one, having taken far longer to craft than even the enormous Sequoia, but now that she had completed him she was most pleased with herself. With each puppet the she forged, her confidence seemed to grow little by little, and the carven comrade that was ‘Teak’ seemed to have had quite the impact.

Bestowed of standard size for her marionettes, this particular puppet was slightly weightier and bulkier than the likes of Mahogani whom the puppeteer carried in her arms, seemingly clad in armour of steel plate. A mix of natural silicate sheen and metallic silver paintwork gave the male mannequin the look of a medieval warrior of the West Blue, coated in head to toe save for the healthy timber of his squared visage. Dark eyes of chocolate brown and a wisp of golden hair were the only visible features of Teak’s ‘real’ self, but perhaps the most distinguishing feature of his person was the fact that he carried a heavy square shield of namesake lumber upon his right arm. Eighty centimetres in height and sixty in width, the enormous barrier had actually been the hardest part to carve out, but it was also one of his most important pieces. Without that shield, he could not fulfil his duty; unfortunately it also made him hard and unwieldy to carry, so he had adopted a position seated atop his creator’s pink backpack. Indeed, from behind it looked like she was carrying a solid cube of timber.

“Marines, find your platoons and get your gear sorted,” called out Captain Flynn Toctic, who had currently sat himself on the shoreline with the familiar chocolate Labrador named ‘Shuck’ lying across his feet. He looked rather casual, but the puppeteer in pink knew better than to think he was lounging about. Flynn was a diligent man who struggled to not be doing something productive, from cooping himself up in his lab to attending meetings as any CO would, to whizzing back and forth across G-6 to tend to research into Project CAZADOR. Quite simply, Mari had never seen him doing nothing, but he was probably the type who would sooner work himself to death than try and take a lengthy vacation. The two of them were quite similar in that regard.

“Yes sir,” the carpenter said, confirming her presence as she approached the seated cyborg. It had taken several long months, but Mari had finally gotten used to much of the military mumbo that was passed to and fro amongst G-6 and its occupants. While C.H.I.M.E.R.A. as a division was far more lenient when it came to professionalism, having been comprised of many a man and woman who had faced court-martials due to apparent acts of insubordination, there was still a great deal of respect passed between individuals. Part of it was out of military training and necessity, but a great deal of it was born of the unspoken house rules upon which the division had been constructed. This was a special crew for special purposes and – even amongst its lowest ranking members – there were a lot of individuals with special skillsets…

SPOILER: Click to show

Mari Anette (ff55ff)
Flynn Toctic (a7c8ee)

[Suriko]

The almost sharp coolness to the air assaulted the samurai's features as he left the metallic confines of the submarine. The coastal wind by itself would not have been as much of an issue, if not aided by the sheer cliff that dwarfed the small inlet they had arrived at. The young cyborg marine took in a deep breath of the fresh air, fairing slightly better than his puppeteer comrade. The swordsman looked out onto the inlet, making his way across the wooden planks.

Clad in a new uniform, the cyborg samurai had donned a more professional appearance. It had been the result of an unfortunate matter one night involving him and his fireteam, as well as a bit too much rough housing. Needless to say, his old samurai-styler clothing just wasn't available to him anymore. With the help of his fellow officer, Ensign Shuman, the cyborg officer had switch to a rather different look. Deciding on a suit, he had gone with a pair of dark suit pants, as well as a crimson buttoned shirt. Over the shirt was suit jacket, emblazoned with the Seagull and the word MARINE on his back in a slightly lighter red. While Ensign Miyami liked the new look, he was sure he had caught a few snickers or chuckles on the ride to the inlet.

He had merely brushed the thought aside for the time being, as more pressing thoughts were on his mind. The top of the list had been the fact that there hadn't been anything on the man he had confronted at the Pirate's Market. Given that he had been by himself, the cyborg samurai was beginning to believe that he had simply imagined it. The thought itself worried him, if this obsession of his was perhaps getting to him, to the point it caused him immense stress. Unfortunately it was hard to confirm this fact, as the corps had been training mostly. While the martial artist didn't mind the peace, it did leave his mind to wander quite often.

Another thought that had crossed his mind, was in fact one of his own comrade. Having met her before coming, He found it amazing how much the diminutive puppet master had changed. The first time he had met her, she seemed rather meek and mousy. While some of their fellow marines may still believe that she was, the ensign knew better. After their sparring match, it became clear to Suriko what the pink-haired girl was capable of. She may have not even realized it herself yet, but she had a strength that rivaled some of the best in their unit. Reaching the final plank, the samurai merely shook the though from his head for now, focusing on the moment at hand. He stared up at the massive cliff that spanned from one side of the horizon to the other. "A truly amazing sight, one I would have never gotten back on that island. Then again, I'm also certain I'd have had far less injuries... maybe." Justin Watts, The 2nd in Command of the samurai's fireteam walked up behind him, chuckling a little bit. "You make it sound like your own home was a battlefield at times, Suriko." The cyborg marine merely chuckled nervously in response.

"Right. Mari, Suriko, Flynt! Over here!" The swordsman turned his gaze towards his commanding officer, watching as he gave out orders to the men to set up. From what the marine understood, this was to be a training site. Whether it be to bring the unit closer together, or was it simply to hone their skills. Either way, this would only help to improve them. His gaze focused once more on the Captain, seeing one of the additions to their team from the market. It had surprised the ensign at first. Mainly cause it was the captian who had brought him back. It just went to show that the larger cyborg had a heart some where under all that metal. "Yes Sir." Approaching Captain Toctic alongside Mari. He saluted Flynn briefly, before flashing his usual smirk. He looked around, noticing signs of something existing here once before. "So, Captain, where shall we start?"

SPOILER: Click to show

{Spoiler}Suriko Miyami(e69c19)
Justin Watts (2919e6)

[Deleted]

 
  Looking at the people assembled around him, Flynn couldn't help but let his lips curve into a pleased smile. Mari, although certainly the youngest in view, nevertheless had ranks forming behind her, her Fireteam foremost and looking a bit smug about it. As he adjusted their training run for the day from 20 km to 35 kms, he glanced over at Suriko. 

The swordsman looked far more comfortable where he was. It wasn't a matter of skill, though this was little insult to Suriko. The Puppeteer and the Swordsman had sparred not long ago, and it was clear that both were fairly skilled. Mari was already well on her way to mastering the art her grandfather had apparently bestowed upon her, and Suriko, already a skilled swordsman, had taken to his upgrades. Having the ability to bend and move in ways a full human couldn't, his speed and accuracy had increased as well.  

Standing, Flynn grabbed a stack of clipboards, moving along the lines and passing one to each platoon. "Right. Each Platoon has their training, duties, and other schedule items marked on the sheet. Remember, this peninsula is our training grounds specifically because it's going to be pretty hard to break anything important. That being said, please aim inland. The Mountains can take fire better than the Avernus. If you're going to be shooting off weapons, make sure it's not going to hit someone else. Now, I need to talk to the officers. The rest of you, get to work. The info will be filtered down later."

 As the Division dispersed, the Marine sighed, cracking his neck. "Right, no point reiterating our purpose here for the 5th time. There shouldn't be anything of real interest on this island, but if one of you runs into a hidden tribe, or a Pirate crew, or a bunch of killer tree people, spread the word quickly. Now..." Reaching into his lab coat, he removed a folded piece of paper. "I believe you should all recognize this woman? If not, I think it should be fairly apparent even so." The image on the page depicted a pale-skinned, silver-haired Longarm, a pair of glasses resting quite precariously on the end of her nose. Her locks in a tight pixie cut, she was winking at the camera, an amused grin on her lips. From each side of her head curved a pale, slightly tan horn. 

 Shuman put her hand on her mouth. "Wait... that photo... Our latest Bounty Poster package was one short. Are you telling me...." Without a word, Flynn opened his fingers, letting the page unfold. As it did, the rest of the paper came into view. 

WANTED
Dead or Alive
Rebellion Officer "Iron Wind"
Ashlynn Toctic
Bounty: B125,000,000 

 The longarm didn't speak for a moment. Shuman and Flynt were speaking over each other, rendering both totally indiscernible. Once they had stopped, Flynn looked up. "I don't want to go into it. Suffice to say, if we come across her... Run. If she has gained strength at anywhere near a similar pace as I have since she vanished, nobody in this Division has a prayer of stopping her."

 *Clap*

"Now! Is there anything else that needs to be brought up?" Looking about, the Longarm's hand, still holding the bounty poster, fell to one side. There was a slight, but audible click, and the sparker for his flamethrowers caught the paper alight. As the shimmering heat enveloped the page, licking up the edges, his fist tightened, shattering it to flecks of ash.

 He had no idea why his sister had chosen to defect, nor why she hadn't contacted him since she escaped. However, that was secondary at the moment. CHIMERA needed to be ready. Bounties on the level of the Worst Generation were being awarded with increasing frequency. The War of the Best was almost certainly just a prelude. The world was tensed, waiting. 

 His new family had to be able to weather the storm. 

-----Elsewhere, on the island. -----------

 Lights illuminated the dirt tunnels, wooden planks supporting the mined-out area. A soldier, wearing an odd uniform, saluted as he entered a mesh-floored area. "Recon returning, sir. It's the CHIMERAs."

 "Oh? Well then... we shall just have to move the test up a bit. I'm sure that this will be a much finer stress-test." 

Saluting, the man left, the figure in a dark green coat turning back to the slab in front of him. "Mmm. Best finish up for now, then." 
On the slab,a figure nodded dully, mind clouded beyond belief by the mixtures coursing through his veins. From within his open chest cavity, organs pulsed with an odd, sickly orange sheen.

[Vio]

Being in a position of leadership was certainly unusual for the young and timid teenager that was Mari Anette, but she was quickly earning that level of respect from her peers. Though she was not a commanding officer by any real stretch of the imagination, her demonstration of skill and tactical thinking had solidified her position in the rankings of the C.H.I.M.E.R.A. corps. This was a girl whose abilities were started to outshine those of average men and women, placing her in that elite group of ‘freakish’ combatants whose powers were often the stuff of legends. Of course, she still had a long way to go before she achieved anything truly supernatural in effect, but her ability to command her marionettes was the trademark of her being, and her skill at handling them was the thing that separated her from her peers by quite the noticeable margin.

“Right, each platoon has their training, duties, and other scheduled items marked on the sheet,” Captain Toctic started to explain as he marched his way across the ranks, handing out the appropriate documents to each of the platoon leaders with details of the day’s regimes and regulations. Still considered a fledgling division by many, it was only natural that the group was subject to consistent training and check-ins to make sure that all was running smoothly, and that – in the face of the enemy – they would be prepared. So far, the crew had gotten off rather lightly, but how much longer would this ‘peace’ last? That was the thought on the mind of the Warrant Officer as the platoons started to disband with itineraries established. Her fire-team was the last to move out accordingly, assigned a routine patrol duty for the time being, and as they parted she could have sworn she heard Seeley Rosmarus let out a small cheer at the prospect of being able to test his latest explosives without worry of any collateral.

“Now,” Flynn continued with the parting of the platoons, “I believe you should all recognise this woman…?”

She looks just like Flynn does… Rosé hues bearing witness to the image of a Long-armed lady, the mousy maiden herself felt a shiver down her spine as she took in what was being shown to them. Those additional elbows, the fair complexion, silvery locks and curved horns – all trademark features of the cybernetic scientist himself, but in female form. There was no mistaking that level of similarity, for this had to be the Captain’s very own sibling. In Mari’s arms, Mahogani too seemed to shiver with anticipation, unblinking ambers transfixed upon the image with which the officers were being presented. And, as Ensign Shuman revealed, this was not just a photograph.

In bold letters, the poster itself displayed by the words ‘Rebellion Officer “Iron Wind” Ashlynn Toctic’, an indication of what was to come. Even though she had been a Marine for only a relatively short while, the puppeteer in pink was more than well aware of the forces of the Revolutionary Army. Led by the infamous Monkey D. Dragon, the rebel forces that flew a red flag were already well known across the seas of the world for their attacks upon World Government-controlled islands and their consistent elusiveness. Fortunately, she had yet to encounter such forces during her time in service – she was not entirely sure if any of the various men and women who comprised the division had done so before. However, this did not subtract from the fact that her leader’s very own sister was now a wanted woman who served the rebelling forces. A sense of sorrow enveloped her briefly, her mind trying to consider what it must have been like to find that your own flesh and blood betrayed your cause, but such worries were meagre and unwarranted. These were not her emotions to deal with, but the emotions of the man who stood before her, burning away the image.

“Now, is there anything else that needs to be brought up?” Apparently quite capable of abandoning the cold remorse upon his visage, the Captain allowed the ashes of the poster to scatter in the soft breeze of this Spring Island that comprised part of the Red Line. But even so, Miss Anette could not help but feel some level of internal sorrow, capable of empathising with the lanky Longarm to at least some degree. Little was she aware of the full extent to which their sadness could be shared. For now, she remained silent, momentarily retreating into her shell as she observed her surroundings. The weather was mild but breezy and, growing amongst the reddened rocks of the landscape, were a variety of different trees. Atop one cliff rested several pines, their needles a deep and rich green and forming what was likely to be a small forest that stretched inland along the peninsula. On another, lower cliff stood an altogether different and beautiful dryad, leaning provocatively over the edge as if tempted the water to come up to it. Roots likely bore deep into the earth, but it was from its branches that those slender lengths of light green leaf did cascade and ripple.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a willow growing on a cliff before, she thought, distracted by the clash of red and green that seemed to dominate the upper regions of this section of the Red Line. In all honesty, the cherry blossom-haired girl could not think of a single qualm worth mentioning at this moment in time, though she was not entirely without worry. What Flynn had said about his sister had unnerved her, though the joke about killer tree people had been well received; at least she had hoped it was a joke. Considering what the doctor could do, and what she had already seen, the chances are that this world had a lot more in the way of monstrous things to offer her. Then again, what defined a monster in the eyes of the individual…?

SPOILER: Click to show

{Spoilers}

[Suriko]

Standing nearby the makeshift operating table, stood another figure. His forest green hues watched as what could be best be described as an atrocity was performed in front of him. The man’s lips curled slowly into a smirk as he listened to the report from the recon team, his thoughts flitting back to an encounter at the Pirate’s Market. He pushed off from the dirt wall he had been leaning against, reaching out for the katana next to him. “Well, looks I should prepare for the fun as well. That samurai whelp is probably down there as well.” The raven haired warrior chuckled lowly as he walked off down the tunnel, slipping away into the darkness of the dimly lit tunnels.

Once He was alone with his thoughts, his fiendish smirk gave way to a grimace, a dark thought creeping into his mind. His mind drifted back to an encounter from his past. The wrathful warrior looked down to the cybernetic right hand, a deep growl passing his lips as he cast the memory aside for now.

---

The cyborg samurai waited quietly, letting their commanding office issue his orders to the platoons of CHIMERA. He watched as group of men that formed each platoon quickly move into separated groups, each of them working on their scheduled training program. The swordsman’s gaze than shifted as he took in the scenery once more. It was a rather interesting contradiction, the inlet they had found for this operation. To the shore they had the vast open blue, welcoming all to its waters with the sense of adventure. And then to the cliff, the sheer stone wall that was the red line. The height of it merely imposed upon all that found themselves close to the massive continent. The crimson warrior was beginning to understand what it was that the world government had chosen for the Red line to be the home of their holy capital. It was as if the very land itself had given them a pedestal to stand upon.

Torn from his thoughts as he had still been paying some attention to the larger cyborg, he turned as he knew Flynn was addressing the officers now. “There shouldn't be anything of real interest on this island, but if one of you runs into a hidden tribe, or a Pirate crew, or a bunch of killer tree people, spread the word quickly. Now..." The ensign gave a worried smile, unsure where the captain was joking about that last potential threat or not. Before he would have taken it as a joke, but given what they came across in lab 3, the samurai was uncertain what to believe anymore. As Captain Toctic continued, the marine cyborg’s eyes soon focused on piece of paper. "I believe you should all recognize this woman? If not, I think it should be fairly apparent even so." The woman shown in the picture could have easily been the cyborg marine captain, had it not been for the obviously feminine feature. A twin? Though she could be older or younger. It was hard to tell. Suriko had barely registered what his fellow officer had said, before their commanding officer revealed the more important piece of information.

A family member turned enemy, huh. The young marine’s gaze changed slightly as his thoughts drifted once more, drowning out the babble coming from their fellow officers. His mind found its way back to kogarashi island. His master had on certain occasion shared his views on the state of their world at times with his student, wishing for him to at least have some knowledge of the world. While not fully speaking in rebellion, his master had been very transparent in his disdain for world government. He never spoke against the marines, at least not in the way the crimson haired boy had heard others of the island speak of them. Thinking back to his time on Amino, it might have been very likely that the samurai would have chosen a separate path. Had it not been for Flynn’s offer, it was unclear where the ensign might have wound up in his search.

All that aside, it had necessarily been a wrong choice either. His experience so far with the CHIMERA corps may have caused the warrior to question his beliefs at times, but he had come to realize that it actually fit fairly well. Despite some of their more aggressive methods, CHIMERA was far from the hellish army that they likely appeared to be at the Marketplace. The more time he spent there, the more he felt he may be able to help people than he would have on his own. Once more the samurai marine was shook from his own thoughts, watching as the embers quickly claimed the wanted poster of the captain’s sister. He quickly reverted back to his more laid back mindset, sporting his lazy smirk as Flynn asked for anything else that needed to be brought up. He thought for a moment before a question did begin nagging at him.

“Where is Wermengard? It’d be interesting to see him in action, even if it was training.” The cyborg merely stated his curious thought, right as it came to mind. The question came to the dismay of his fellow ensign, who spoke in place of their commander. “Well, for one, the vice admiral is very busy man, after all he does have G-6 to take care.” Suriko nodded, about to accept that answer before Shuman continued. “And, Well, the last time he joined, about half the soldiers that participated were sent to the infirmary.” The young man stayed silent for a short while before laughing loudly.

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Spoiler}
Mysterious Samurai (4aaa32)
Ensign Shuman (ec0000)

SPOILER: Click to show

{Spoiler}Hey, sorry about the delay there, but here is my post. sorry for not procceeding the plot too much ahead, but I wasn't sure how far we wanted to push into it just yet. Also. I did just have to add that last paragraph, i found it entertaining.

[Deleted]

As the story of the last training session the Vice Admiral was involved in was relayed, Flynn couldn't help but groan. It had been an... interesting time. One that he refused to repeat if he could help it. Although... he DID have to go talk to his commander about that flash of impossible insight he had received a while back, on the Pirate's Market. Shaking his head, he looked at Sur. "Weremengard would be far too strong to be any real use at the moment. I mean..." There was a noise, and suddenly, Flynn was standing just next to the soldier. "Imagine someone who makes me look like a low-ranking soldier. He can track me, and while he still has some trouble hitting me if I try hard, if I get close enough to hit him, he can put me straight through G-8 with a smack."

Cracking his knuckles, Flynn stretched, and looked over at the others. "Well, let's move out, then." Raising his voice, Flynn called out. "Oi! Corpsmen! Let's start moving!" The supplies were sitting on top of large wooden pallets with criss-crossed poles beneath. Picking up the pallets, the soldiers began moving into the woods, heading in different directions. The 4 divisions were each taking a side of the island, with the platoons camping a few hundred meters away from each other. It was important to have the groups learn to interact separately, but completely separating was asking for trouble. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, the Longarm turned. A pair of glowing blue eyes met his own, staring out from beneath the wide-brimmed grey hat sitting firmly on their owner's head. "Ah, excellent. I was meaning to speak with you. How is the pack doing?"

Chuckling deeply, Raphael Dugrain dusted his hands, the long limbs contorting as the cybernetically enhanced soldier saluted his CO. Also known as CX-0003, the Cazador was one of the few war-cyborgs that had fully awoken. Undergoing the process to become a Cazador was rather complex, and adjusting to the changes left many of the Marines in a state that almost resembled a trance, responding robotically and showing little personality. It was this tendency that had led many to believe they were little more than machines, a tendency that definitely helped the fearsome reputation CHIMERA was attempting to cultivate. Eventually, however, they recovered their full faculties. Raphael had been the first to do so, and was the leader of CHIMERA's small pack of the hunter automatons. Not all of them had awoken themselves, but a few others had over the past few weeks. The odd, howling code that they used had meant that the various other Cazadors who had awoken across the world had also reported in, providing some valuable data that might be able to eliminate the trance-state in future iterations. After all, eventually the soldiers who had been upgraded would retire, and be returned to more normal-looking chassis. The scientist was not so deluded as to think that everyone would be fine with such a drastic change forever.

Mr. Dugrain had taken quite well to his change, however. Slipping off the gas-mask for a moment, he glanced over at the officer. "Fairly well, Captain. Currently at 3 of the 6, me-self included. Hoping the rest open up before long, they seem to be slowly copping to the enhancements." Nodding, Flynn and the Cazador moved along as groups broke off. Pausing, Dugrain seemed to swallow for a moment, throat jerking, and then his mouth opened and out came a strange noise, sound increasing and decreasing in pitch apparently randomly. It sounded as though a creature was howling through a Den-Den Mushi with a poor connection. To most, it sounded like a somewhat terrifying quirk, the hunting cry of the Cazadors. Very few were aware of it's true nature, a rather complex sound-based code that could be used to transfer information in short-hand between units, increasing their ability to coordinate. Ceasing the noise, the machine-predator slipped his mask back on and vanished among the trees, feet tapping along the ground. Flynn mulled over the meaning of the message as he walked along, noting the slightly confused look from Shuman.

Turning to the others around him, he nodded. "Well, I trust you can find your way to your positions. I will be taking some time to look around the island before testing the Cazador Pack. If you hear hunting calls, don't worry about it. Unless, well, it sounds like this." Throat jerking for a moment, he let out a low howl that slowly rose and fell. "If you hear THAT... things have gone quite wrong and everyone should be prepared for a fight." Nodding to the group, he adjusted his coat before vanishing in a puff of dirt and dust, speeding off between the trees in barely visible flashes, arms folded behind him. 

[Vio]

Finally being given the chance to split off from the main group after receiving something of an education regarding Wermengard and the Cazadors’ curious calls, Mari Anette watched as Flynn vanished amongst the trees of the immediate area. Or, at least, she tried to watch. The speed that the Captain was capable of achieving blurred his silhouette to the point where he was practically invisible to the untrained eye, but her own eye for detail at least allowed her to trace such movements to some degree of decency. A stretch of silvery white moving from nearby and into the woodland was all she saw, catching the vaguest glimpses of the Long-Arm’s more defining features as she tried to look to where he was moving before he got there. It was a good method of keeping up with such speeds when you were incapable of matching them on your own and, whilst it was by no means a perfect defence, it at least trained her ability to keep track of opponents in the field of combat.

I wonder if we’ll ever be strong enough to learn Rokushiki, she questioned silently, looking down to Mahogani who remained within the bind of her arms. I only really know about Soru thanks to Flynn, but Wermengard said there were six different forms of it; based on offence, defence and mobility. I guess I want to know what the rest are…

Mulling over the superhuman skills granted to practitioners of the ‘Six Styles’, the Warrant Officer proposed one query after another to herself, curiosity bringing forth the love for solving puzzles that was a part of who she was. Learning such an ability as Soru – or anything else that required such a great degree of muscle control for that matter – was no easy feat. It was almost unfair that Captain Toctic’s mechanical limbs could allow him such powers as that, but then again, perhaps they were just as much a help as they were a hindrance? Through a mix of swift leg movements and the saw-tooth skates that were his feet, the silver-haired cyborg was capable of reaching greater velocities than mere humans such as Mari herself could achieve, but the rest of his artificial physique surely placed a ceiling of steel upon how far up the Rokushiki ladder he could climb? In the end, it all depended on what constituted the other five forms of the style – just as it all depended on how quickly she would reach that degree of bizarre strength, speed and skill herself.

“Huh?” Dragged from her thoughts by the tilting head of the Samurai puppet pressing back against her chest, Miss Anette was swiftly reminded of their actual reason for being here in the first place. There were training regimes to take care of and, even if she still did not think herself a capable enough leader, it was at the very least her responsibility to make sure her fire-team were in check. Fortunately, MCPO Lesovik was more than capable of keeping the other four members under control by his lonesome, but it wasn’t very befitting of the girl’s rank and position amongst the crew to let him do all the work in her stead. Though Warrant Officer was not an actual officer role when compared to Ensigns like Suriko Miyami and Alyss Shuman, it was still a very important position to hold, even if she wasn’t quite sure of what her overall duty was other than being in charge of a small team of her own.

“Oh! Uh- Sorry, I- I was just thinking a-about-”

“Mari.”

“Y-yes?” the timorous teenager twittered, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising from her chest and up to her fair visage. More confident she was getting, yes, but a few twists and bumps on the way were certainly not unusual. Brennan Lesovik was certainly one to know that, standing there amongst the fellow members of the femme’s fire-team. As per usual, he looked clean and tidy and possessed a professional air about him that made him look more like a high-ranking officer than a soldier, even if he was still clad in the standard uniform expected of his current rank.

“You really don’t have to explain yourself,” the MCPO uttered with a soft smile, the curl of his lips defined by his short but bushy beard. He was right. When was he ever wrong? This one man had, like the rest of C.H.I.M.E.R.A’s men and women, come from an unusual military background. A West Blue operative, the man nicknamed ‘Leshy’ had been court-martialled twice for supposed insubordination – both times he had won his case simply due to the fact that his approaches in both circumstances had actually resulted in better outcomes than what he had been ordered to do. Making his unit force an attack against greater odds and retreat from what had looked like a winning battle respectively, both events had played out in the favour of the Marines, even if his superiors at the time had thought him to be suicidal and/or cowardly. Quite simply, he knew what he was doing. He knew how to look after his men and was perhaps much better officer material than some of the officers he had worked under, lending to his rapid promotions through the Petty Officer ranks since joining G-6 and the C.H.I.M.E.R.A. Corps. He now sat comfortably at the highest rank a soldier could attain – a single overall rank below the cherry blossom-haired girl.

“Now, Captain Toctic has marked out an area for us to run a perimeter check as our first call of duty,” he started to explain to the group, “though I guess that’s more like training for you, eh, Sweets? Then we get to test your new wall charges, Seeley! Nikila and Kojak, you two will be cycling over to C Company after lunch to join Ensign Flynt Anderson’s skirmishing mocks. Is everyone clear on that?”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ve been looking forward to this!”

“You bet’cha, Leshy!”

“Alright…”

“Now,” Brennan added, looking to Mari, “lead the way, ma’am…!”

-~-

“Oi!” called a voice in the darkness, “It’s time for us to move out! You ready?”

At first, the messenger was met with little more than silence, peering into the obscuring shadows. Indeed, he was about to turn and walk away, but a clicking sound reached his ears – a clicking that sent a shiver down his spine as it drew closer, and cold hand resting firmly upon his shoulder and stopping his movements. A hooded figure stood behind him, dressed in a dark garb that covered its entire form, leaving all but a bone white mask staring at him from the darkness. The clicking continued as shadows seemed to dance in response to his enquiry.

“You guys always give me the creeps,” he uttered, shrugging the hand from his shoulder and stepped back as another silhouette approached him. Not one, but three, led by a shorted figure dressed in a dark, royal blue robe.

“The feeling’s mutual,” whispered a woman’s voice as the figures walked past the messenger, the intonations seeming to fluctuate and resonate like the faint buzz of a distant swarm of bees…

SPOILER: Click to show

{*OOC*}

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[/font] (ff55ff)
Brennan Lesovik (55ffff)
Sweets McGeek (ffff55)
Seeley Rosmarus (5555ff)
Nikila Booth (ff5555)
Kojak Hodgins (55ff55)
Flynn Toctic (a7c8ee)
The Messenger (ffffff)
Mysterious Woman (000066)[/ul][/ul][/spoiler][/font][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]