UDF control: 32% GJ control: 60% Currently deployed mechs: None Intel on GJ: Sights of them constructing something huge, but little information on what it is exactly. Expected to be some kind of weapon, counter measures are being thought of. This area is designated as a probable attack zone. The UDF base is large as well as mostly under ground. It's a gigantic bunker, and houses all the current mechs in large silo like tubes so they can be lifted to the surface easily. There are also several armed missile silos. There's a room for engineering, filled with tools, materials, and parts. All of the rooms are in the lowest area of the bunker, with several elevators leading up to the main area. There is a mess hall and a conference room. You are in your room in the base, and have been called to the conference room.
Eric Murphy was tired, pissed, and suffering from a severe caffeine crash. He had been up until four in the morning building a bug fix for the Prime's UI. Recently it had been acting up, displaying improper ammunition count and fuel levels. The second he had considered the bug fixed, he had collapsed into bed, only to be woken what felt like moments later by a call to the conference room. Lifting himself out of bed, he sat down slowly into his wheelchair. He hadn't quite gotten the hang of navigating the world without legs, but his arms were getting stronger by the day, and it helped. Eric rolled up to his door, which opened automatically, grabbing his tablet on the way out. He rolled out into the hallway, greeting the various residents of the bunker with a nod. He didn't know them by name yet, having only transferred here a few weeks ago. After a few minutes of following signs pointing to the conference room, however, Eric was totally lost. He looked around for someone he recognized to ask for directions, but didn't spot any familiar faces. Since his accident, Eric had began to detest requiring help, especially from strangers. He hated his weakness, and he hated his ruined legs. He got enough sympathy for that, he didn't want anybody to feel sorry for him because he couldn't read a map either. But he had to set his ego aside for the moment. It was only asking for directions, right? What was the big deal? God, why did he have to be so socially incompetent?
A young man, probably of only 25 years or younger, approached Eric. His smile was warm, his eyes bright, and he appeared in a pretty good mood. Strapped to his back was a sword, and on his right leg you could notice a holster with a 9mm pistol in it. He was roughly 6 feet tall, and slender in build. "Hi there, I'm Kim." He said happily, extending his hand out for a shake. "I heard about you from the last meeting I was in, I'm heading to the conference room too. Figured I could walk with ya." He finished.
'Note to self, remind these guys I need to eat at some point,' Coyotl thought to himself as he left the mess hall. 'Every time I try to get a decent meal in, they call me up.' As he ran to the conference room he stopped to grab a little something and inhaled it while jogging. 'I mean come on, how am I supposed to pilot if all I can ever eat is a damn pack of chips?' Coyotl practically skid to a halt as he reached the elevator. 'They can wait. I need my gun, my phone, and I especially need my headphones.' He thought as he entered and almost immediately exited the elevator and ran to his room. Rounding one more corner he trips over himself as he tries to stop himself from colliding into someone, landing flat on his face in front of a few men. "Ow," was all that managed to escape his lips.
"'Walk with ya?'" Eric raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to be offended or amused. Deciding to chalk the comment down to a slip of the tongue, he shook hands with Kim and followed him down the hallway, grateful that he didn't have to ask for a guide. "So, Kim," Eric was never good at small talk, but damn it, he was going to try. "What... Which division do you work for?" It was the first question that came to mind. He had been frequently criticized by his old coworkers for talking about work too much.
After getting up and finding he had a bloody nose, Coyotl once again raced to his room. Mere rooms away he came across two people in the hall and recognized one from his previous confrences. "Hey Kim," Coyotl muttered as he passed them and he immediately went into his room just to the right of them. For a single minute the sounds of boxes, books, and other items being thrown around saturated the air before he came back out wearing a pair of headphones. "Is it unprofessional to wear a poncho to a meeting?" he asked holding a rather colorful garb.
Kim raised an eye brow. This guy. He thought. "Meh, I don't think they'll care too much. Anyway, I work for the pyromantic division, specialize in making.. well. Fire." He said, smiling. "Shall we?" He said, walking slowly down the corridor so as to not over pace Eric. His hair was blonde, in comb over, but obviously too long and spiking out. His left arm was noticeably making a metal clanging sound, and as he lifted his arm, the metal brace around it was visible. "I hate this thing, it rusts and won't stay in good condition." He said, adjusting it.
"You never told me why you wear that thing," Coyotl pointed out while donning his multicolored poncho. "As for me, I work in the experimental warfare division. I work on making weapons that border on science fiction," suddenly he has a realization that he had not properly introduced himself to the man in the chair. "Oh how rude of me, H. H. Coyotl," he says holding out his hand, "just call me Coyotl, or Coyote if you want to use a nickname."
"That's interesting," Eric said. "I had a friend back when I worked in the Colorado lab, he was on their experimental warfare team. Nice guy," He stared off into space for a moment - a bad habit he had been trying to shake. "I'm on mech-brain integration. Actually one of the first guys in the field." Eric said this with a touch of pride, continuing his way down the hall, allowing Kim to lead the way. He briefly considered reciting the story of his little "accident," but decided against it. Eric had noticed that it tended to make people uncomfortable when he talked about his legs. He resented his self-inflicted disability himself, but there was no reason to force an awkward situation just to talk about it.
Kim laughed. "It's just here to keep my arm working. It's always been unresponsive. Way I see it, the brain is just another machine. And sometimes it's wiring needs a tune up." He said, moving his arm back and forth. He came to a large elevator, and pressed his hand to a pad by the door. It scanned his hand then opened. "Well, let's get on with it." He said, stepping in.
Eager for a chance to make himself useful, Eric offered, "You know, I've been working with some of the other guys on M-B integration on some new brain hooks that spread out in the gross motor cortex instead of just sticking to a static connection point. They get you much better connectivity with implants. They're a pain in the ass to get rid of, and it take a few hours to fully remove them, but if your arm implant is permanent, that won't matter. You might want to put in a request. We're already into human testing, and we could use a subject or two." It took some doing to fit his wheelchair into the elevator, and he felt suddenly self conscious about pushing his new acquaintances to the edge of the cramped space. Ah well, nothing to do about it. Turning back to Kim, he asked, "I don't mean to impose, bu what do you think? Willing to give it a try?" Don't mean to impose... These words practically defined the apologetic and socially reserved Eric.
The elevator started moving at the decent pace. It dinged for every floor it went down. "Nah, I'm good. This isn't so bad." He said. The dings sounded for quite a while, and the floors kept getting lower and lower. The elevator stopped at floor -50, and the big door slid open. In front of it was a small hallway leading to only one room, whose door was open and lights on.
Taking a step back, Coyotl's eyes become narrow pin pricks as a look of disdain covers his face. "I really don't like these guys," he states as he begins fiddling with his headphones. Extending his free hand he wordlessly invites someone else to go first.
Kim stepped out of the elevator and began walking down the hall. His hair was raggedy in the back, bouncing as he walked. His posture was a little poor, but nothing severe. His arm was clanking as it moved.
Standing there for a few short moments, Coyotl had to suppress a giggle that formed from the obnoxiousness of Kim's brace. "Well," he began to think out loud, "I won't be the only obnoxious thing they have to deal with." As he began to walk forward, Coyotl pulled a bag of pretzels from his pocket and began to crunch on them.
Eric was the last to exit the elevator, trailing behind the others. It was less a result of his sleep deprivation and more that he didn't like being the center of attention, and didn't want to be the first one to enter the room. The conference room was an open space that made him feel just the slightest bit agoraphobic after the tight corridors of the base, and the cramped quarters of his bunk room. The first person he saw was Quincey. He frowned. Eric didn't like Quincey. Like himself, the man came from a wealthy background, but they didn't get along; he thought Drake was obnoxious, while he tried his best to stay out of the way of others. Still, he forced a smile and nodded to the man as he pulled his wheelchair up to one of the seats at the table. "Good morning." He needed coffee.
Ignoring Eric, Drake said to the three of them, 'What took you all so long? Was it because you were walking with the brain bag here?' He pointed at Eric, then laughed to himself. 'Whatever, at least you are finally here. Are we waiting on anyone else to be late, or what?
"Making fun of the handicapped," Eric remarked. "That's classy, Drake. Nice to see you haven't lost any of your charm. Now what the hell are we doing here, anyway?"
Chuckling lightly, Coyotl sits down and points between at the both Eric and Drake. "Get a room you two," he says jokingly.
Remarking back to Eric, he said, 'Well, at least you aren't mentally handicapped like some of the idiots that work here. I swear, these people are idiots. I asked someone to hand me a quadrill, a fricking QUADRILL, and he asked what that was! I swear, the people here...' He trailed off, then continued with an explosive outburst, 'One other thing: why in the world is there only one elevator going to this room?!? I know that it's 'difficult' to dig shafts, but with all of the tech we got here, at least they could have some curtsey for those who don't have time. It took me AGES to get the bloody elevator to my floor, then back down.' He leaned back in his chair, then leant forward again. 'By the way, does anyone know where the director is? If this meeting is so important that I have to leave off of working, then it had better be damn well important.' He leaned back again, putting his chair up on two legs.
