[System]
Alias: Gunrat, Bluebird
Age: 23
Team:
 Free Agent
Powers:
 Superhuman reflexes, free-floating individually focusing eyes, pain resistance, and the ability to dislocate any body part at will.

Weaknesses:
 Bullets, knives, drowning, fire, explosions

Personality:
 A violent chain-smoker, easily unhinged, with very little regard for individual human life. She's a strong believer in "the ends justify the means", and wouldn't hesitate to kill one person herself if it meant saving five. She holds deep resentment for sentimental heroes, and those who attach themselves to trivial things. If they aren't using the most direct solution to a problem, no matter how inconsiderate, they're wasting time. Nonetheless, she holds heroes like Batman and Raven in the highest regard, simply on account of their abilities and accomplishments. Also, while efficiency is her ideal, her own mental trauma does make her prone to emotional outbursts, if provoked.

Appearance:
 Xiu is Chinese-American, 5'4", with a round, flat face, sickly pale skin, wide eyes, thin eyebrows, and a large forehead. Her head is shaved down the middle, with amber-died ponytails on either side. Her build is slim, but also very fit. She wears steel-toed boots, work jeans, and a thick leather jacket. Hidden within her jacket are four holsters (two on her chest, and two at the hip), carrying various members of her pistol collection. Strapped to her thigh is a combat knife, and rattling in her jacket pocket is a switch-blade. She keeps a red kerchief tied around her head, and wears oversized aviator glasses during the day.

During times of emergency, or when acting in a more public role, she wears a blue and black, masked superhero uniform, with a metallic collar and chestplate. A parting gift from Bluebird. On formal occasions, she wears a plain green dress, with a black sash around the waist.

Brief Bio:
 Xiu was born the daughter of two Taiwanese political activists, who made it their goal in life to delegitimize the Chinese government, and incite civil war. When pro-Taiwan protests began breaking out around China in the early 2000's, her parents were at the very front of the movement. Fearing that this civil unrest could spread, the government used military force to break up the protests, sending citizens fleeing to their homes. That night, police operatives broke into the homes of those involved in inciting the protests, including Xiu's parents. They were imprisoned, interrogated, and eventually killed, leaving her as a child of the state. Needless to say, no media sources were allowed to cover this, and the world went on completely unaware.
 From early childhood, Xiu was raised by various agents of the Chinese Ministry of State Security. Their goal was to train an assassin to infiltrate the governments of Taiwan and Japan, giving China direct leverage over the life and death of any neighbouring state officials who might stand in the country's way. Training included various mental and physical experiments, in an attempt to make her more agile and durable than a normal human. Chemical and surgical treatments overclocked her brain, reinforced her muscle fibers, and replaced her joints, boosting her agility, intelligence, and flexibility beyond normal human means, but left her nervous system fried and numbed, and her personality a neurotic mess. In spite of these setbacks, her resourcefulness surpassed their expectations. As a teen, she was able to hack into the ministry's computer network, and review all of the ministry's data, including her own file. Learning of her parent's cause in full detail, and how expendable she was to the state that killed them, she decided that she owed nothing to the government that, up to that point, she'd viewed as her only parent. Distraught, she became uncooperative to her handlers and teachers. Before too long, it was decided that she was a lost cause, and was scheduled for a quick execution. Learning of this, she subdued her guards, and sneaked out of the facility.
 She made it to Shanghai, where she survived for a year by robbing street vendors, before sneaking onto a freighter on its way to America. Into her late teens and early adulthood, she saw the heroic deeds of the Justice League, and saw a new, constructive purpose for herself, beyond mere survival. She viewed her own life as having been stolen from her, and wanted to ensure that others wouldn't suffer the same loss of life, whether metaphorical or literal. She eventually made a name for herself, apprehending kidnappers and robbers (keeping whatever money they had on them for herself, of course). Eventually, after thwarting a terrorist plot in New York, she drew the attention of the Justice League.
 Although physically skilled, the league determined that she was far too unstable, and certainly didn't fit the image of "hero" they were trying to project to the world. They rejected her request to join their ranks, and advised her to leave heroics to heroes. Since then, she continued to work alone, walking a fine line of fighting crime without stepping on the League's toes. Eventually, she set up shop in Gotham, where she encountered another rejected hero known as Bluebird. Both fans of Batman's results, although perhaps unsatisfied with his gun-less tactics, the two worked well together, and shut down several drug-rings in the city.
 Unfortunately, Bluebird's continued successes put her brother, her only living relative in the area, in a great deal of danger. Gotham crime syndicates began targeting him, as a proxy for getting to Bluebird. When push came to shove, family came first, and Bluebird stepped down from heroism, leaving her alias to Xiu. Xiu, who up til then had fought without a mask or uniform, used this identity for her larger operations and conflicts, where she might be caught and identified by the media. This false identification had the bonus impact of making Xiu's enemies look for an opponent who wasn't there. Harper Row, the original Bluebird, had long since left the city, leaving a ruthless superhero with no alter-ego to terrorize. Even the Justice League remains unaware of Bluebird's new wearer, giving Xiu a lot of leeway with her actions. Of course Batman, the one hero who knew Bluebird enough to notice a change, has yet to address the change.
 Now, with the rise of Brainiac, and the fall of Metropolis, Xiu intends to help the remaining heroes whether they like it or not. She'll hunt down Brainiac's drones, thinning the herd, and wait for the League to take action. She has her mind set on Justice League membership, and intends to prove herself to them, whatever it takes. Of course, she has more urgent reasons to fight Brainiac, including protecting her own friends, who help keep her supplied while she's on this quest.

[User]
The remaining founders of the Justice League walked over to the rest of the group. Batman noted what he'd heard in the numerous conversations. The knight was strictly about the endgame and damning anything to do with science or machinery. The 'deaths' weighed heavy on this one, who removed his helmet. Superbeast and Captain Marvel were steadily becoming friends, as were Static and Bluebird. Doctor Light seemed more interested in the civilians they had saved and brought back to base camp outside of Metropolis. Starfire watched over her friend, Raven, who was still unconscious. Kid Flash looked to be trying to regain some of his energy eating several of the protein bars and MRE's the military had provided.

"Everybody listen up..." Batman spoke getting everyone's attention, "Nightwing as well as the remaining civilians in the city are being held under what used to be the Daily Planet. As some of you have noticed many of the drones seem all too similar, and it isn't their programming. I've estimated around 90% of the techno-zombie drones we've been facing are in fact duplicates of the League's multiplying man, Ditto..."

"Nightwing's alive?!? That's the best news I've heard in days!" Superbeast responded.

"Before Brainiac can build a larger army we need to take down the remaining three drone generators and find out where he's keeping the original Ditto. If Ditto can't be saved we'll have to take him down." the Flash commented.

"We're gonna call it a day for the most part, however Batman has stated he's going back in to attempt to free Nightwing." Wonder Woman said crossing her arms almost as if she disapproved of Batman trying to go in alone yet again.

"I asked you not to tell them, Wonder Woman..." Batman said in his usual tone.

"While Batman didn't ask for help, any League members wishing to volunteer may do so. Those of you in Young Justice will be sitting this one out..." the Amazon continued noticing what appeared to be a metahuman flying towards them in the sky, "Batman, were you expecting...?"

"He's here." Batman said to the point.

~KL~

[Assistant]
The Captain's eyes lit up at the mention of Nightwing's status. This seemed to be just the news the two teams needed to get their spirits up. Now Billy had to consider going with Batman or not. Sure, his extra fire power could be the turning point in the battle to save Nighwing and all those civilians, but if he left then he couldn't defend the safe zone if the 'all mighty' Brainiac decided that Metropolis wasn't big enough for his huge ego. Ultimately, the crimson clad hero knew that he couldn't just stand by while his fellow Leaguers got to go out and bring the fight to Brainiac whilst saving their fellow hero and a load of civilians.

"I'll go with ya, Bats! Still got some kick left in me, stamina of Atlas and all that..." Captain Marvel proclaimed as he stepped towards Batman and Wonder Woman with an eager look on his face. When the approaching meta got closer Billy tried to stifle his laughter at the individual's means of flying. Ever since the appearance of Darkseid Billy normally burst out laughing when he would see a super-being flying in a standing position. Billy kept his humor to himself though since he didn't want to offend the incoming flyer, at least not yet.

[User]
Finn was still in a bad mood and people seemed to still be trying to just look on the bright side of this situation. His annoyance rose a bit when Wonder Woman said to call it a day and he rolled his eyes. How on earth could she call it a day when there was still a mechanical menace out there that had enslaved several members of the league? It seemed like he was the only one besides Batman that was taking this situation seriously and now the subject of the Caped Crusader going back to find his old sidekick was brought up. William wanted to kill some more techno-zombies and continue his crusade against this evil science.

"I'll join you Batman, my sword is still hungry for the flesh of these sinful scientific monstrosities" he replied to them as he held his longsword firmly in his right hand, the blade glinting in the sunlight. His attention was then drawn to the figure flying towards them, Batman seemed to know this new individual and William wondered if this was good news or something bad.

"Are they friend or foe?!" he said firmly to Batman and was curious to hear the league founder's response. If this new person was an enemy then they were going to have a taste of God's fury.

[Assistant]
From a distance, the flying figure was merely a dark silhouette with a white cape buffeting dramatically in the breeze. As he drew closer, certain details became apparent: The newcomer looked, aside from the flying, like a normal, well-formed human youth. Dark of hair and strong of feature, he was well-groomed with a air of authority about him. His facial features, well... were familiar. Frightening even, in their familiarity.

He could tell that he was being observed; that was the point. Low altitude, slower speed on the approach. Let himself be seen, and see them. The nonverbal responses from the military present were a clustering of shock, reservation, and suspicion. The strange newcomer's approach slowed further as he neared the group of Earth's Heroes. He settled lightly upon the ground a few paces from the two Justice League founders, Batman and Wonder Woman, and walked the remaining four steps required to enter range for polite conversation.

Up close and personal, the reason for the odd looks was obvious: This person was a dead ringer for the Last Son of Krypton, the inestimable paragon of righteousness, Superman. Details were off, of course. He had green eyes, bright and intelligent, and a slightly more slender grace about himself, hinting at dexterity training necessary to a person that did not rely on nigh invulnerability.

He spoke with a solid, confident voice, initiating conversation stiffly. "Thank you for receiving me, Sir, Lady, though I recall requesting Diplomatic Courtesy on behalf of an Envoy of Almeracian Royalty. As this request was summarily ignored, I can only assume that you have something of greater importance taking priority?"

His eyes darted about, taking in details around him. "Please forgive my impatience. I had a long journey here. I am Maxus-El, First Prince of Almerac, of the Imperial Bloodline."

He pressed a small white strip of material to the inside of his cheek and handed it over to the two Founders. "Run this through your biometrics, such as it is. It will confirm my identity and relation to two members of your League. It was Mother's wish that I enter the ranks of the Justice League. She was insistent that it was a worthwhile endeavor, and that as a Legacy I would be given direct consideration."

"In the meantime, what is the situation? I am noting indications elevated stress, unless you Terrans always look like this."

[User]
"I'll join you Batman, my sword is still hungry for the flesh of these sinful scientific monstrosities", the archaic warrior proclaimed.

 "Likewise", Xiu hopped in. "All these bullets are weighing me down. I need to spend a few m-"

 As she spoke, she saw the swiftly approaching figure, suspended eerily in the air.

 "The hell?", she breathed.

 "Are they friend or foe?!", Sir William inquired.

 "No time for taking chances", Bluebird mumbled to herself. With frantic speed, she gripped the AMR-2 armour-piercing rifle on her back, and swung it around. Wedging the stock into her shoulder, she lowered herself onto one knee and took aim. As the strange figure descended to the ground, in front of the group, her grip tightened and her eyes grew wide. A tinge of regret ran through her, for her decision to not bring any kryptonite-tipped bullets. Still, what were the chances his eyes were bulletproof too.

 The man began speaking to Batman and Wonder Woman, with excessive pomp and pretense. Friend or foe, Xiu already hated him.

 "In the meantime, what is the situation? I am noting indications elevated stress, unless you Terrans always look like this.", the alien blathered, with the diction and mannerisms of a walking aristocratic stereotype.

 "Bats! Is this guy in the clear?", Xiu asked, taking aim directly for his left eye. "Locked", she whispered.


[System]
Age: 31
Gender: Female
Disposition: Cecilia comes off as a harsh, no-nonsense enforcer, keeping the other pilots of the Preying Panthers in line and commanding them in the field. She radiates authority, carrying herself with a haughty demeanor and steely confidence. In public, she molds her image into the Panthers' stone-cold adjutant, although on the inside she is actually very reserved and apprehensive about herself. Of course, she makes no effort to reveal her softer side to her associates. When it comes to operations, results come first. Cecilia keeps a close eye on the rest of the team in the field, to better orchestrate the most successful outcome.

Background: Prior to joining the Preying Panthers, Cecilia was a security officer of the WhiteTower private security corporation. WhiteTower had a strong presence in the XCD, providing surveillance and protection to client businesses; most of which were arms manufacturers or FRAME companies. Cecilia in particular was assigned to Ceres Aeronautics. Originally a designer and manufacturer of aircraft, Ceres had just taken the leap into the FRAME market as well.

Ceres's entering the FRAME industry unnerved other local corporations, wary of the growing competition within the market. KellCorp was especially anxious when Ceres unveiled the XGM-24A Handou and lost a number of prospective clients to the upstart FRAME manufacturer. In response, KellCorp decided to put matters in its own hands and go on the offensive. It sent a mercenary unit to assault Ceres's FRAME manufacturing plant and send the message to stay out of the industry.

Cecilia was among the WhiteTower personnel assigned to the facility, who were caught off-guard by KellCorp's attack. The mercenaries mounted a sudden, powerful offense and hammered Cecilia's partners into submission before totaling the plant. Although she held out with a grim determination and downed a few FRAMEs, there were too many mercenaries for her to deal with, and she was forced to surrender after her machine had been disabled.

The incident prompted Ceres Industries to respond by hiring the same mercenaries that KellCorp had sent after them, enticing them with an extremely lucrative contract. Not only did this get KellCorp out of their hair momentarily, but it gave them a means to retaliate and replace the FRAMEs WhiteTower had lost. The mercenaries happened to be none other than the Preying Panthers, and after ruining KellCorp's chances of competing with Ceres, Richard Bentz convinced Cecilia to quit her job at WhiteTower and join his unit.

Appearance:

Inventory:
* Heavy calibre revolver w/ optional laser module/flashlight unit.
* Carbine-length adaptive battle rifle with standard electronic sight and under-barrel flashlight.
* Combat/survival knife
* Pilots' suit with ballistic armour and equipment harness
* Pilots' helmet
* Military-spec datapad strapped to right forearm

Funds: 492,417c

Other: TBD

Name: LBG-22 Kirin
Manufacturer: Canton
Height: 4.1 meters
Weight: 5100 kg
Armor: 40 mm armorplast alloy
Speed (Walk): 52 kph
Speed (Skate): 84.2 kph
Sensor range: 4 km
Communication range: 30 km
Operating range: 700 km
Extra Systems: ECM suite, laser target designator, backup sensors
Power: (game mechanic) 135
Weight (game mechanic): 70
Price: 389,333c

Equipped Armaments & Systems:
* C3 Imaging Suite (5 weight)
* MG27 Light Machinegun (2 weight)
* GPR-21 Autcannon (10 weight)
* MGR-2A Anti-tank Missile (20 weight)
* LP-90 Light Rocket Launcher (24 weight)

Storage:
* AFC-40/L Autocannon (8 weight)

Funds Before Transactions: 345,160c

Operation Commission: +400,000

Sold Handou: +221,590c

Bought Kirin: -389,333c
Bought C3 Imaging Suite: -40,000c
Bought GPR-21 Autocannon: -15,000c
Bought MGR-2A Anti-tank Missile: -30,000c

Funds After Transactions: 492,417c

[User]
Ryder found herself zoned out while she made some slight reparations to her FRAME. She was content with her work despite any comments made by her fellow Panthers. Theta did well in such close combat, but then again, Ryder had always preferred to get up close and personal or stay a ways back. Trading hits with rifles was never in her playbook. Perhaps she just didn't think she could hold her own in an equal firefight, but Ryder didn't care for these insecurities. Each of the new Panthers did relatively well and no one got killed. That was a plus.

With the new tech available, Ryder spent quite a bit of time with her FRAME, searching for any vulnerabilities in order to assess any upgrades Theta might need. With the addition of Active Camouflage and Reactive Armor, Ryder was a bit excited to upgrade her friend. Both would make good additions to her quick and close up battle tactics.

After going out to purchase the materials with the new credits she was given from the mission, which she was surprised to receive at all, she had not left the Samigina during the duration of their stay in Hamarr. She had no reason to. Ryder was really only seen going about her daily business on the Samigina. She worked on Theta alone, trained alone, and dined alone. Occasionally Ryder would give quick, one sentence responses to the Samigina's crew. It was a daily occurrence for her to speak to one of the ship's mechanics as she sometimes had questions about FRAMEs.

She tried to hide it the best she could, but Ryder was not the most experienced in the upkeep and management of FRAMEs. She had managed to use Theta fairly well in combat, but other than that, she was a complete newbie. It seems she knew this man, but not even Ryder remembered what happened before her awakening in the hospital. The man hadn't spoken about it, so Ryder had assumed it was a coincidence. Flashes of her past came in bursts. This is how she first learned she was no stranger to combat, hence she became a mercenary.

A confused look crossed her face as Ryder stood before her FRAME, numerous crates of pieces and parts. It was time for Theta's upgrades. She had little idea how to do this, of course. Ryder had no other option but to fetch her mechanic friend; Jack was his name. Over the course of the next few days, Ryder awoke early in the morning to watch Jack repair and upgrade Theta, listening to his explanations as he did so. She wasn't much one for talking, but simply listening and learning was quite enjoyable.

[Assistant]
With the cargo's departure came the arrival of a new FRAME in the hangar, an old looking desert-camouflaged Handou with "YASSIR" stenciled upon the outer-thighs in big subdued brown letters, its chest bristling with heavy machine-guns, a mortar-module strapped to its back, and a large scoped GPR-21 clipped to its shoulder like some tin-soldier at parade-rest.

The pilot however, was not present. She was elsewhere at one of the local port-side establishments; word had already reached her of the Panthers's arrival, but she wanted to see how these mercenaries handled themselves when they wouldn't think anyone on their team was watching.

To simply blend-in, the child of a farmer and soldier for as long as she could remember had worn a simple lightweight red shawl over a brown yếm and a blue denim-skirt. She tried her best not to draw too much attention to herself by sitting in a lonely looking corner and surrounding herself with junk-mail advertisements to sort through in addition to the contents of her smart-pad as she sipped coffee by herself.

[User]
Cradle Headquarters - Hamarr

"Please, Mr. Bentz, have a seat."

Richard sat himself into a plush office chair adjacent to the desk in the rear of the room. He was face-to-face with a smiling representative with tidy makeup and not a wrinkle in her garments. The nameplate sitting on the desk read Amelia E. Blake. As his eyes wandered the room, he marveled at how spotless and free of clutter it was; like the cover of a home and living magazine.

"Coffee? Tea?"

"I'll have a coffee, thanks. Black with sugar."

Amelia stood and stepped over to a small beverage machine at the left of the room, a well-rehearsed grace in her gait. She passed him a cup and saucer that looked almost too expensive to drink from and returned to her seat.

"The Director wished to express his regret that he could not meet you personally, Mr. Bentz. He was very impressed with the way you handled the operation."

"Oh, we just did our job, Ms. Blake," Richard replied. "It was our pleasure to aid Cradle Industries in this endeavor."

"Of course. Your team retrieved an extremely valuable asset to us."

"What do you think the OSU will make of this? I don't suppose they'd just allow... whatever it was we stole to remain in Cradle's possession?"

The representative gave Richard a wry smile and continued, "Most likely not, but that's where you come in. The Director wishes to extend your contract with Cradle - indefinitely."

"Indefinitely?!" Richard blurted, in the middle of a sip.

"That's right; the Panthers are valuable to the security of this company, Mr. Bentz. The Director wishes to keep your team close by, in the event Cradle meets any other complications down the line. In truth, 'indefinitely' is however long it takes for Cradle to complete its top-priority project; which has resumed, thanks to your retrieval of the asset earlier this week. Realistically speaking, we've estimated a period of about four months until its completion."

"Cradle's really giving pouring everything into this, huh?" Richard mused. "Well, if the Director plans to keep us around solely for the security of this... project - would it be too much to ask just what it was we stole?"

"The Director wanted to speak to you personally regarding that matter," Amelia sighed. "I'm afraid I cannot disclose any details without his express consent, but I can tell you that this project will-"

BAFOOM

The two were startled by what sounded like a dull explosion outside. The Cradle representative bounded to the window, pulling open the blinds to reveal the aftermath of a collision between a nearby section of Cradle's headquarters and what was probably a rocket. Debris and smoke hemorrhaged from the point of impact.

"Dammit!" Amelia cursed, her hands balled into fists and teeth gritted. "We'll resume later, Mr. Bentz. Have your team defend the headquarters at all costs!" She dialed a number and brought her padd to her ear.

"Director? ... Yes, that's correct. Cradle Headquarters is under attack. ... Yes, sir. Bentz is on it. ... I will, sir." She shot Richard a grave look and he gave her a nod, gathering himself from the chair and making a call of his own.

-----

"Pwuah!"

Cecilia slammed the glass on the surface of the bar, setting it next to what could only be described as a pile of discarded shot glasses. Cheers erupted from around the bar; onlookers who had paused their pool and dart games to witness a head-to-head between Cecilia and a one-eyed veteran with a ruddy face.

"Looks like you're straining a little, there," she jeered.

"Whuh? Ne'er! Ah've got plen'y o' figh' n' me yet," the old man gurgled. He reached for another glass, visibly tittering in his seat.

"Yeah? I think you've had your last-"

BAFOOM

"What the fuck?"

The noise in the bar dropped to an empty silence as a blast echoed from the streets. Cecilia turned to the other Panthers, who had also been downing glasses and making merriment just a few second prior. The bartender grabbed a remote, flipping through the TV stations until he got to a local channel, a shaky news anchor fronting the headlines.

"-urging everyone to stay inside until an all-clear has been given. There has been no confirmation of who may be responsible for this. Authorities say Cradle Industries's headquarters have been damaged-"

BABOOM BOOM PAPAPAPAPAPAM

More violent sounds could be heard, both outside the bar and coming from the TV's speakers.

"Fuck; Richard!" Cecilia hissed. Then, the Panthers' padds beeped and she brought hers to her ear.

"Panthers!" Richard shouted. "Cradle's under attack! Get to the Samigina ASAP! You are to protect the HQ at all costs, do you understand me?"

"We copy, Director! On our way!" Cecilia jumped from the barstool and waved her teammates outside. "You heard 'im! Let's go!"

The Panthers stormed outside in search of the nearest taxi, leaving behind empty bottles and a weeks worth of cleanup.

"But... your tab!"

-----

On-board the Samigina, crewmen zig-zagged around the hangar, postponing tests and checks to get the FRAMEs combat-ready after a moment's notice. Richard's voice echoed through the cabins, alerting everyone on-board of the sudden shitstorm they'd just gotten pulled into. The machines had already had weapons affixed to their hardpoints - urban-oriented loadouts. They were already being disconnected and lined up, prepping for launch with hardly any time after the pilots arrived. All that was required was they pull on their helmets and harnesses and strap in.


[System]
Alright, here's what I got. @AlShayatin
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio): Patch
Date of birth: 24/01/1988
Place of Birth: Siena, Italy
Citizenship: Italian
Languages: Italian, English
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)

Height: 5'5
Weight: 135 lbs
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: See picture, cut usually shorter.
Body type: Toned and athletic

(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)

Country: Italy
Unit/s: 9th Parachute Assault Regiment "Col Moschin"
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Esercito Italiano – Italian army
Rank (last one achieved): Lieutenant (Field Medic)
Duration of service: 9
Tour/s of duty: 5 x 180 day tours, Afghanistan, 5 x 180 day tours (The Ninth)
(Awards are optional)

Uniform: - Official 9th Regiment Uniform – see picture.
Armor:- Kevlar vest and helmet.
Weapons: -
Heckler & Koch Hk 416 equipped with a regular Red Dot Sight, magnifier, Angled foregrip, surpresser if needed.
Fabrique Nationale Five-seven pistol, surpresser if needed.
Standard folding knife.

Backkpack: -
Six ration packs.
Water canteen.
Notebook and pen.
First aid kit.
7 extra standard issue bandages.
3 x Emergency Trauma bandage
2 x liquid bottles for wound cleaning.
6 x Adrenaline shots.
2 IV bags.
Morphine.
Antibiotics.
Phenergan.
Night vision goggles.
Ammunition/others
Five loaded 30 round magazines for the 416.
7 loaded 11 round magazines for the Five Seven.
3 M67 grenades.
3 smoke grenades.

CV- Serena was born and raised in Siena, Italy. Her father was a car mechanic, and her mother owned a small bakery. Nothing specific set the tone for a future in the military. She picked up Muay Thai and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu at 10, originally as a dare from a childhood friend. The Italian girl managed to acquire a brown belt in BJJ at the age of 19. She participated in several nationwide competitions, finding herself being used to relying on herself in pressured situations. Serena completed her education, always seeing herself becoming a doctor.

Plans changed when she passed a recruitment station as a 17 year old. She aspired towards joining the Italian military, which she did at the age of 20. Passing the initial tests, Serena quickly sought towards a role of medical service. She was assigned as a field medic, her knowledge of medicine and treatment serving as a good starting point. Serena met a woman from Isreal during her training, eventually befriending her and visiting her home in Isreal. There, the woman gifted Serena an Isreali uniform as a present, of which Serena carried to a family gathering in Isreal along her friend. (Picture of Serena is from the given situation.)

After several deployments and years of service, Serena's extraordinary service as a field medic was noticed by the 9th Reggimento d'Assalto Paracadutisti, and she was taken in at the age of 26. Once again, Serena found herself being assigned as a field medic. During classified missions with her assigned squad, codenamed "Cacciatori Felici" Serena had plenty of time to perfect her medical skills, eventually granting her the nickname of 'La Benda" or simply 'Patch' in English, as a reference to her skills with patching her fellow comrades up.

Eventually being promoted to Lieutenant, Serena had fought alongside her squad for 3 years. During a Seek and Destroy mission in Afghanistan, the parachuting soldiers found themselves several miles from their target. The pilot had accidentaly called the order to jump far too early, leaving the 9th to spend hours searching for their target in the dead of the night. Once they arrived, the squad found themselves surrounded by far more enemies than intel had suggested. A firefight broke out, lasting several hours. Two of her fellow soldiers were shot dead, and a 3rd almost bled to death, only saved by a makeshift patch Serena ripped from her shirt. The rest of them eventually found themselves pushing the lines back, until they could reach the inner structures of the compound, which contained the target they came to eliminate. The mission was called a success, though the Cacciatori Felici had suffered heavy losses, the first in five years. Now, however, Serena was contacted by an entirely new position. She agreed, once again prepared to serve as a field medic.

[User]
Walking down the gloomy neon lit hallway, Vadim lowered his rifle. Even from here he could hear the distant shots and explosions coming from within the city. Under normal circumstances it should have been the city that echoed from the shouts of fans - friends, families and lovers that would be here to support the teams and players playing the football matches. But now, to the citizens of this city such a memory would not be so distant, and yet, it would feel so foreign. Atleast, thats what Vadim thought.

He stopped for a second, letting Isabella and Serena pass him. Having put on his helmet, the half mask still dangling. Vadim took a guarana shot, after all he would need all the energy he could have right now.

"Парковка A..." He muttered to himself as he walked into the parking lot. Logically, Melnikov was the first one to leave the locker room, so he was the first one to arrive. He was riding shotgun in the lead car, Isabella was the driver and Serena sat in the rear. Vadim decided to drive the second car. Popping the boot, Vadim put his bag into the trunk. Leaving the hatch open, he sat into the drivers seat and said: "Last one into the car closes the trunk!" Taking off his shades, he slid its temples into the closed sun visor. Relaxing in the seat and properly attaching his mask to the helmet, Vadim waited for everyone to get into the cars.

[Assistant]
Daniel shook his head as he followed Tokarev, striding in quick rhythm towards the exit, clothing falling under the pristine lights and casting shadows on a dirt-specked floor.
"He's just doing his job," he responded simply to the Russian #2's comment on Russian #1.

Though he held his identity close as the last part of family in foreign lands, the mechanic did have a level of respect for Russians, especially those who served their country without bombing a shitstain village for political change. The land there was harsh, and the ruthless military even more so. They were a complete reflection of their background, which was enough evidence of their strength.

As his companion found way to the parking, Daniel threw his bag in after Vadim's and joining in the passenger seat.
"Lazy motherfucker," he muttered with a smirk, throwing the door open and entering.

[Assistant]
It was a simple question, yet it resonated with Isabela. "I'm afraid so, yes," she nodded, finally placing her rifle down between the two front seats after making sure the safety was on. "I have plenty of experience, but strictly speaking I've never been in an actual war zone. But now that I think about it," she stopped, looking forward for a moment before turning to Melnikov once more, "I've never been deployed anywhere overseas." Isabela shrugged her shoulders. "I've traveled for leisure, but that's about it. Guess I'll soon find out what it's actually like, huh?"

She gave Melnikov a slight smile to keep the conversation light, but the fear of the unknown was evident in her eyes. Isabela then looked back at Serena who had remained quiet.

"Welcome aboard! Happy you could join us!"

Noticing that one of their teammates had gotten into the other vehicle, Isabela turned the car on but left it in park. She then noticed the last man also get in the other car.

"Say the word and we're good to go, boss."

[User]
"Let us hope you won´t make the experience." Boris looked at the vehicle behind them trough the rear view mirror, rolled down the window and pressed the PT button on his wire to talk over the radio. "Alright, we are rolling out if you forgot something your fault." the Vympel operative exclaimed before knocking on the roof of the car with his right, the signal for the driver to roll out.
As Bo had inspected the vehicles previously he discovered that those still had players which played cartridges, so in a touch of nostalgia he prepared the glove compartment of the one he was sitting in.
"Hope you don´t mind some music." Boris opened the compartment which held 3 cartridges he previously placed there, as the vehicle drove onto the highway which was going right past the stadium Bo took one of them and slid it in. He turned off the radio and switched to the player, turning up the volume so the music blared out louder than before from the radio.
youtube.com/watch?v=sM8ix0siRVQ
Fresh, cold night air was filling the car trough the open window, it bore the scent of salt from the sea. From the his behavior one could easily get the impression that it was only a few friends taking a night ride on the high way, if it only wasn´t for the the explosion several miles ahead of them. 'A 155' he guessed.

At night the fight´s were not as heavy as during day but therefor more infiltration attempts and air strikes occurred, by pressing a switch next to the wheel Bo turned off the lights. 3 light bombers did a overpass on them, they were unlike ones he had seen before and that was something that gave them away. During reconnaissance training inside Vympel they were smoked to memorize military hardware. The jets that just were Indian, HAL Tejas to be exact. But what the hell were Indian jets doing in Thailand?

Bo´s hand was on the PT button again, "Cossack, you´re with Patch. Low and me will take the front, work on obstacles. Mortimer you got the 6. Stick to Cossack and Patch, make sure you got their backs."
The vehicles were approached town center, from there it was only a 15 to 20 minutes drive until their destination. So far nothing interesting had happened, on they Bo saw some abandoned cars on the highway, people pillaging houses, a few traffic jams which they had to avoid trough detour but nobody shot at them. Which was good. And they still had more than 10 hours left until the deadline.

[Assistant]
"Lazy motherfucker."

Vadim chuckled as he got into a proper driving position and turned on the car. He kept his G36 close to his chest, stock folded, in case he would need to use it as fast as possible. When Melnikov gave the signal, Vadim shifted the gear into drive and began following the lead car.

...

When the lead car shut off its lights, Vadim followed suit. He caught a glimpse of the three jets that passed over them, muttering:

"Что за..." (What the...)

What startled him was the tailless delta wing configuration on the jets - these weren't F-16s, Chengdus or Migs... While the thought that these were Mirages or Eurofighters did cross his mind, Vadim singled out one type of jet: HAL Tejas from India. So there was only one question left...

"The hell is the IAF doing here?" Vadim exclaimed. He sighted and immediately focused back on the road. No point in worrying about them now, if these truly were Indian jets then we would get confirmation later, he thought.

"Cossack, you're with Patch. Low and me will take the front, work on obstacles. Mortimer you got the 6. Stick to Cossack and Patch, make sure you got their backs."

Using his left hand Vadim pressed the PTT button on his chest: "Cossack here, gotcha."

As they got closer to the front line all the gunshots and explosions from it became louder and more threatening - they were in a true warzone. They took some detours to avoid the biggest obstacles, Melnikov had this planned out rather well. Vadim's respect for the man was growing. Although in his position,  Vadim would try to push the Yankees for more intel regarding the CIA station. Dirty means or otherwise.

As they got closer to the AO, Vadim said to Daniel: "Low, keep your eyes peeled. While I doubt an interception might happen before we get to the "Cutthroat's" station," He made a brief pause. "Lord knows into whom we might run into around these parts."

[User]
The airspace created little thought in Daniel- they were probably covering something other than a group of specific, secret operatives. What caught his attention was the apparent combat beginning to come into earshot, his experience with such sounds keeping him wary.

Despite this, he remained still for the duration of their journey, holding onto the rifle sat between his legs as they passed the wonderful sights of the city. He noted the closeness of the AO to a river. The fighting was likely over a strategic position.
Daniel made no comment, as a job for him was now present, according to the radio talk.

"Well, if the Lord is a CIA agent, then he bloody better know what we'll run into," he responded to Vadim's worries. He remembered working with intelligence services back in the Middle East.
"Cholerne wojny."

[Assistant]
Serena flicked her head up again once Boris assigned the positions over the radio. In response to Vadim, Serena turned on her own radio, speaking into it. "Affirmative. See you out there, Cossack." She adjusted her position in the seat slightly, furrowing her brows as the jets flew across the sky. The roaring engines were as thunderous cracks throughout the ground beneath them, though it seemed none of the soldiers in the car flinched at all. A familiar sound to a lot of them.

The cars continued to drive through the town, with many different sounds outside. By now, Serena's eyes had gotten used to the darkness that surrounded the town. She began to see figures in the many streets. Some were scattering around for God knows what, whilst some kids were playing with a bashed-up football in a bomb crater. It was a bittersweet sight; at least they were still trying to play, in this torn up war zone that Bangkok had turned into the last couple of months. The area around the operatives had been somewhat silent so far, besides the occasional gunshot a few streets away.

After a sharp right, Serena squinted her eyes at one of the rooftops. A small figure stood still, before he took off, sprinting across a couple of rooftops, before he disappeared back into the night. It stung in Serena's stomach at the sight, and she quickly went to turn on her radio again. "Eyes open, everyone. Might just have been a scared mouse, but we've got a runner on a rooftop. Could be a lookout, might be more. Patch out." She wrinkled her nose, pulling the rifle from between her legs, holding it tightly as she continued to scan the houses. Surely, it could have been nothing, but it might've not been.


[System]
Class Name: Assassin

Clytemnestra

Nicknames: The Woman Who Slew a King

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Servant of: Orazio Grimaldi Jr.

Viable catalysts include Remains of the Trojan Horse (used for all Servants connected in any way to the Trojan War), Remains of Hippolyta's Axe, or The Mask of Agamemnon.

Weapon(s): Her axe (which is also one of her Noble Phantasms), a veil that she uses as a net.

Despite her vengeful nature, if Clytemnestra ever got the Holy Grail, her only wish would be to see her daughter Iphigenia again.

Class Skills:
The capacity to hide one's presence as a Servant. Suitable for spying. It is possible to disappear and become extremely difficult to be detected. The Rank of Presence Concealment drops considerably when preparing to attack.
The ability to remain independent even when rejecting the Magical Energy supply from one's Master. At Rank B, it is possible for a Servant to stay in the world for 2 days without a Master. However, this is the ideal value achieved by maximally conserving Mana and avoiding battle and Noble Phantasm usage.

Personal Skills:
A composite Skill consisting of a person's charm as well as the natural talent to command or unify an army or country. Increases the ability of allies during group battles. Having been the Queen of Mycenae during her lifetime, Clytemnestra naturally possesses this Skill. However, its Rank is quite low due to the people of Mycenae's scorn over her sacrilegious actions, including the killing of their celebrated King.
Despite Clytemnestra being born from human parents, her sister, the famous Helen of Troy, was said to have been fathered by Zeus, who appeared to her human mother in the form of a swan, seducing and impregnating her. Clytemnestra possesses a miniscule Rank of Divinity by being born from the same womb as Helen.
Clytemnestra's personal Skill. It encompasses the unyielding belief that the self acts on a higher sense of justice, making all their actions "right" by default. Clytemnestra views herself not as a "petty woman" for her crimes, but as an instrument of that very justice. Servants possessing this Skill will always have a Lawful Neutral alignment, regardless of their actions. Makes it highly possible to completely resist charming, suggestion, temptation, mental corruption or alignment-altering magic.

Base Parameters:
Strength: E
Endurance: D
Agility: B
Magical Power: D
Good luck: B+
Noble Phantasm: B
Quote: N/A

Rank: C

Type: Anti-Unit

Range: 1

Description: A ceremonial, double-bitted axe used by Clytemnestra to slay her husband Agamemnon. According to Greek myth, it is actually the legendary axe of the Queen of Amazons, Hippolyta, and has been wielded by remarkable Heroes of the Age of Gods, including Heracles. Had it materialized as the Noble Phantasm of a stronger Servant, its Rank and relative power would have been a lot higher. However, Clytemnestra, who was never trained as a warrior, in addition to being summoned under the weaker Assassin Class, is unable to unlock its full potential.
One of the armaments Clytemnestra is summoned with as a Servant is her special veil, which she calls "Imatio Thanatou", aka "the cloth of death", the cloth net she used to entangle Agamemnon before killing him. Clytemnestra can combine that net with her Noble Phantasm to great effect, making up for her lack of raw power. For as long as the net entangles them, the target is unable to escape or resist their murderer, and their attempts to free themselves become more difficult, requiring Agility, or Luck check to escape properly.

Name: Erinyes, the She-Dogs of Fury

Quote: "Hear the plight of I, Clytemnestra. I am my soul, which calls to you. Do what you are. Your work. She-Dogs of Fury! ERINYES!"

Rank: B++

Type: Anti-Unit

Range: -

Description: The Erinyes (also known as the Furies) are female chthonic deities of vengeance who tracked down egregiously impious wrongdoers with their hound's noses and tormented them to death. They are Wraith-like Divine Spirits from the Age of Gods, with snakes for hair, dog's heads, coal-black bodies, bat's wings, and bloodshot eyes. In their hands they carry brass-studded scourges, and their victims die in torment.
Clytemnestra is able to invoke the Erinyes as a Noble Phantasm, much like she did in her myth. At that moment, her target will become "cursed". The Erinyes will gather all around them and assault them from the shadows, lashing at them with their scourges and tearing at their skin with their sharp talons. Their effectiveness and the amount of damage they can do is dependent on how geared towards Evil or the Chaotic their victim's alignment is, or how much that person has committed deplorable crimes in life. The Noble Phantasm's Rank receives boosts accordingly. To even activate this Noble Phantasm, Clytemnestra must first witness the target having committed a horrible crime (usually murder), or alternatively she needs to have definitive proof that the person has committed horrible crimes in the past (usually murder).
The Erinyes are independent Spirits possessing what equates to a Rank A of Presence Concealment, thus making it difficult to predict their attacks and guard against them. One can destroy them if their timing is good enough so as to strike them just as their Presence Concealment drops. However, their bodies will regenerate after a certain amount of time, at which point they'll immediately try to locate their victim and start tormenting them anew. Skills like Magic Resistance can lessen this curse's impact, provided their Rank is high enough. Having high defensive parameters, or possessing Skills that enhance endurance can also help lessen the damage and sustain oneself for a longer period of time than otherwise. However, if the curse is not lifted in an amount of time dependent on how capable the victim is of resisting it, they will ultimately die in agonizing pain and torment.
Once the Erinyes have found a victim to torment, they will never leave them in peace, even if Clytemnestra herself dies. For somebody to get freed completely from their curse, they would need to first pay penance for the crimes the Erinyes are accusing them of and make peace with themselves. Entering a place of holiness (such as a church) can also force the Erinyes to retreat temporarily.

Name: Orazio Grimaldi Jr.

Nicknames: "The Real O.G."

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Master of: Assassin

Command Seal Location: Left hand

Wish: "Man, I just wish my pops would understand me, you know what I'm sayin'?"

Origin: Pride

Personality: Orazio is, to put it mildly… well, he's a slacker… and an idiot. Cocky and overconfident to a fault, he's prone to bite off more than he can chew. His obsession with acting "in da hood" or "gangsta" is most unsightly coming from a mage of the esteemed Grimaldi family, and has caused many of his peers to roll their eyes in disgust upon seeing him. Still, he means well, and ultimately he's just a lonely kid with a strange understanding of the world around him. If only he could tone his whole "gangsta" act down a notch, then perhaps he wouldn't be half bad.

Biography: Orazio Grimaldi Jr. was born in the Grimaldi family, an Italian-based magi family with a history of at least 200 years, their members even rumored to have ties to the mafia. Hailing from such fine roots, young Orazio's life as a magus had the potential to be full of success, and at first, it mostly looked like that was indeed going to be the case. Orazio showed enough promise during the earlier stages of his training in his family's Fire-based magics. He was not a prodigy by any means, not even close, but he was a quick enough learner. With a lot of hard work, perhaps he could've gone places and become a successor his family could be proud of. But alas, that was not the course Orazio's life was meant to take…
When he hit his teens, his parents made the grave mistake of enrolling him in a public high school, even though he had been home-schooled up until that point in his life. Their reasoning was that, from their point of view, the things taught in non-magi schools were "meaningless" and "unnecessary" to a real magus. Enrolling their precious son in a lower quality school, where the teachers would no doubt be more lenient and have lower expectations, would ensure that Orazio would've had enough time to devote to what was really important in his family's eyes - perfecting his magecraft. Little did they know how horribly their decision would backfire… By being subjected to socialization with non-magi of his own age group for the first time in his life on such a large scale, Orazio's teenager mind was "corrupted" by all the "rubbish" produced by non-magi culture, like "video games" and "rap music"! In a matter of a few years, the once promising heir of the Grimaldi family of mages had turned into a total "gangsta" wannabee who neglected his duty as a magus and his training in order to listen to rap music and play video games.
His father, who had been way too lenient on him up to that point, eventually decided to put his foot down. He had done a huge mistake in letting his son drift so far away from what was supposed to be his purpose. The only way to set him back straight was with drastic measures; Orazio was going to join the Holy Grail War, and he was going to like it! That was the ultimatum imposed on the slacking young magus. His father even threatened to disown Orazio if he refused to go! And so… Orazio Grimaldi Jr. was begrudgingly put on the first flight to Japan, with nothing but a briefcase and whatever basic funds his family had given him (they're not heartless after all). Hey, who knows, this could end up being fun, young Orazio thought. Nothing bad ever happens in the Holy Grail War… right? Right? RIGHT?!

School of Magecraft: Fire Element

Skills/Spells List:
Basic Fireball (can be used up to 6 times)
Heat Transfer (transfers heat from himself to somebody else, situational ability)
HM05 Flash (lights up dark rooms, situational ability)

Amount of Magecraft Mana: D

[User]
Kaldera heard the comment made by Leon.

"Ah but the question is did I even give you my real name? These games are both mental as well as physical, remember that." he said to Leon with a smirk. But before the two could talk more, the old man began to speak about the Holy Grail War and the new rules and conditions that have been put into place to have a news champion or group of champions. It was also interesting to learn that the participants of the last war would be involved.

This changed a great deal of things, now he felt that he had more to think about, before he came in to this with the mindset that the people here and a few others would only be participating. He would have to speak to lancer about this update as he now looked at not just potential enemies but potential allies as well.

"This is very fascinating news, but good in a sense that we now have people that are fighting with us instead of a free for all, it's a shame to not be able to pair up with a matching class. What is the penalty for such an act? I just would like to know the severity if one were to break these rules." He asked the old man.

[Assistant] Walter was silent for a moment as if contemplating something he didn't speak for a moment. When he did he let out a sigh. "To my knowledge the grail dedicates I force the use issue. It will end with either the use of a command seal of which I have been supplied a few myself in order to carrel servants who have done deeds that would harm the church, or the association. If that fails the servant, or servants, who are forcing the issue without consent of the grail will be put to death. Masters WILL BE disqualified as well." commented Walter as Togami nodded. "A fair judgement if someone seeks to disobey preconceived rules in the grail war they should expect harsh consequences. After all we should expect that these 'teams' to be held together by something other than their own desires. If we let powerful beings such as the servants from running around doing whatever they desire it will be anarchy, and the grail war's existence may come into question from the non-magi. We can't have that can we?" Togami stated as Leon nodded gravely. "Such barbaric practices...to force a command seal for trying to bring some sort of civility to this war? I am not a fan of this however I can understand the practice in question my lord. It will be too our best interests not to make enemies of the church I believe." Saber commented to Leon through their mental link. "Listening in were you?" Leon questioned his Saber who felt amused at the statement. "Earlier you feared for your life. It is only right that I use our link to see what is happening. Besides sitting here by myself is lonely. And I don't fancy talking to the other servants just yet. I believe it would be best to wait for a show of character before I introduce myself. As a Saint I may intimidate some. And others I may inspire anger in due to my nature. It is simply a prec-" Saber began as Leon sighed. She had a tendency to explain everything...not surprising for a general from a war. "I don't need the whole story Saber I get the jest of it. Besides Revelation just makes everything more difficult like you told me way back. Just chill I'll come out soon enough when this meeting is done."

[User]
Orazio listened to Father Walter explain to them what the penalties would be for Masters who broke the rules - particularly for Servants of the same Class teaming up. "Sweet, so you DO have ways to make sure people play fair. That's cool, dude!" The coral-haired airhead of a magus commented. "Yo, Len, Leon! Did ya hear that? You don't have to worry about people breaking the rules and pulling shady stuff, the church guy's got us all covered in that regard!" The rapper wannabe said with a confident smile.

It was then that a realization suddenly hit the young Grimaldi heir, making him gasp in shock... though not for the reasons one would expect. "Woah woah woah, there, hold on just a second, gramps!" The boy said to the Church moderator, Father Walter. "You can use Command Spells on other people's Servants?! That's... so... COOL!!" The strange-dressed youth exclaimed excitedly. "Can everyone with Command Seals do that? Oh, oh! Can I do that?" He eagerly asked the middle-aged priest.


[System]
* Magical Girl Title: Magical Girl Kuroe the Writer (Also her pen name)
* Age:17
* Gender: Female
* Appearance:
* Magical Girl Appearance: In her Transformed state Shizuri wears a black suit with a cream colored vest and pink tie. Her ordinarily messy hair is done up into a ponytail and her glasses are absent entirely.
* Personality:
In the flesh Shizuri is almost terminally shy, reluctant to act around people that she knows and entirely useless around strangers. Any attention drawn to her is unwelcome and she does not readily express herself without being prompted, even around good friends.

Though the anonymity of the internet she is outgoing and opinionated. Shizuri is passionate about anything that she takes an interest in and can be driven to show her anger with a small amount of provocation. She isn't a naturally angry person but more vibrant emotions more easily rise to the top if she is caught off guard. These traits even carry through to her magical girl form. Nobody could possibly mistake shy Himura Shizuri for Kuroe the brash magical girl.
* Skills: Writing, playing and mixing music and video games.
* Abilities: With her Marker Shizuri can modify the properties of objects by writing on them and impose her will upon the world. Longer, more detailed passages have greater effects. She can change the shapes of things and even give them magical properties for a limited time.
* Tool: The Black Marker
* Brief History:
Himura Shizuri merely passed through life to this point. Her shy nature and inability to make friends meant that she made as little an impact upon those that she crossed paths with as they did upon her. The origin of this might have been her families constant moving with her fathers work and the very brief nature of any friendships early in her life.

With the absence of any other people to spend her time with, Shizuri filled her life with more solitary activities such as writing and other hobbies. Behind her online nickname Kuroe she found a way to express her thoughts and feelings without having to meet face to face with anyone.

While in her first year of high school she published her first romance novel under this same nickname. It was a success and afterone year of high school she dropped out to write full time, moving into an apartment of her own and living a life of solitude. She now publishes at an astounding rate, living out her own fantasies on the pages she writes. Beneath it all, what she possibly desires most is the ability to interact with people face to face, like those in her stories.

It is of course open knowledge that Magical Girl Kuroe and Kuroe the author are one and the same.

	+ Fairy Name: Fid
	+ Fairy Appearance: Fid is a diminutive Fairy, even among her own kind she is considered small. Fids hair is a brilliant white and what passes for her wings and even her clothing is an indistinct darkness that flows around her body like scraps of black silk with her wings coming from four small points on her back. In flight she looks like a pinprick of light followed by a rippling inky trail.
	+ Fairy Personality: Fids nature is a direct contrast to that of Shizuri. She is always outgoing and will rise to any challenge, especially anything that might directly go against Shizuri herself. Fid will poke fun at anything and any one meaning that nothing is off limits if the mood strikes her. She is in tune very intimately with Shizuri and is able to convey her feelings for her.
* Theme Song:

[User]
Last Night

The lower edge of the girl's spear hummed as she revved the engine built into the blade. Her long purple hair drifted in the wind as she skidded across the rooftop, swinging the weapon upwards. A brilliant beam of light streaked towards her in that moment, and slammed into the weapon. With a yelp, the girl staggered backwards, her frilled outfit ragged from the sheer impact of the beam, forcing her to brace herself on the edge of the roof using her weapon.

The girl gritted her teeth.

"Why did you attack me?" a voice said from above. It was soft, and nonthreatening. But there was no real intonation, and to any listener it would appear devoid of emotion. "I did not make any attempt to harm you."

"Like hell!" snapped the girl with the spear, raising it as she did. Her hair and eyes were purple, her outfit black and red. "I don't know what you're doing, but I won't accept it. There's no way it's anything good!"

Before she could raise her spear again, another beam blazed towards her and struck her square in the chest. With a pained gasp she staggered back and hurtled over the edge of the building, plummeting into the darkness.

She landed, far below, with a thud.

"... Ow..." slowly, she got to her feet, rubbing her back and wincing as she did. "... Grr... whatever she's doing...!"

Before she could complete that thought, however, something shifted in the darkness behind her. Turning swiftly, her eyes fell on the dark shape of a large, octopus-like creature, multicolored eyes surrounding its bulbous body as thick tentacles stretched towards her. One eyebrow raised, the girl rested her spear on one shoulder.

"Can't you give me a moment to catch my breath?" she complained. One of the tentacles raised, preparing to strike.

"Fine," the girl responded, with a sigh. But then, a rather vicious grin spread across her face. "I see how it is."

---

Today

The sun began to sink low in the sky.

Class had long since ended for the day, and one particular girl, one with long red hair, was still on her way home. East Umitori High School was a fairly decent building. There was a higher class high school not terribly far away, but it wasn't like East Umitori was worst place Akane had ever been to. But there was something more exciting then simply having a nice high school on the girl's mind at the moment. The possibility of there being magical girls among the female students of East Umitori was far too exciting! The other day she'd noticed that the fansites had recorded a few girls having overlapping patrol routes around the high school so that meant that at least one of them probably lived nearby and attended classes there! It was hard to help being visibly excited about such a prospect... but then Akane realized that someone might see and swiftly tried to quell her excitement. There were people nearby and all... it'd be embarrassing if she looked so excited over nothing in front of people she'd never spoken to.

Still... had she already spoken to her? What if she'd already spoken to her? What if there was more then one?! Akane could at least dismiss Nadeshiko-sempai as one of the possible magical girls...

The redheaded girl's braid swished behind her as she walked. Her mind so engrossed in the thought of potentially going to the same school as a magical girl, it took a moment for her to remember what she was doing. That's right, she was picking up some drinks from the convenience store nearby. Hopefully there weren't too many people in there... after that, she'd head home. Her mom had wanted... what was it again? Ah, why was she having trouble remembering... Maybe she should have written it down. It wouldn't do if she had to bother her mother again.

Little did she know that making sure she remembered the right drink was about to become the least of her concerns.

[Assistant]
For most students, the end of a school day was to signal the gates of freedom opening up for them, allowing the youths of the country to spend the remainder of the day however they liked. For Nadeshiko Nanako, it was essentially a reminder that her extra classes started in an hour.

Nanako had long since grown out of public displays of displeasure and frustration, making it virtually impossible to notice the reluctance in which she gathered her belongings into the schoolbag by the side of her desk, exchanging farewells with her classmates everyone filed from the classroom. A few minutes later, Nanako had stepped outside the building, walking onward with an unreadable expression.
What awaited her today was several hours worth of sewing to build her skills with mending and creating clothes, helping with the cooking to... well, improve cooking, and then studying for class the next day. None of that was particularly enjoyable to Nanako, but dwelling on it was only going to build the dread to unbearable levels.

She had a little time to herself for the moment... she'd probably stop by the convenience store for a quick snack, and then... a small smile spread across her face, deciding that maybe spending half an hour as her alter-ego would help brighten her day, if only a little.

[User]
— Her Apartment —

The girl looked up from her tablet screen and tapped the end of the stylus against her jawline. The sun had just reached an angle that let it reach where she lay on the hammock hung diagonally across a corner of her room. It was late enough that she should be starting to think about preparing something to eat.

Even with the expensive computer sitting on the corner of the room she preferred to write by hand. Her first manuscripts had been on physical paper but with that came the inevitable difficult scenario of visiting the post office to send the package.

It had taken two months for her to muster the courage to send her first novel away to a publisher. Nine more copies were sent to nine more publishers before one of her works had eventually gotten published with minimal success and she bought herself this tablet, allowing Shizuri to avoid this unbearable obstacle.

She was famous now. Well.. Magical Girl Kuroe was. If the girl Shizuri had the fame and attention that Kuroe got it might be that she would drop dead on the spot. Today a dozen books had been published in the past two years and Shizuri was living the perfect life of isolation.

"~Fid. Where's my phone. I'm going to order pizza."

The diminutive Fairy looked up from a small pillow at the foot of the hammock. "No. You ordered ramen yesterday and pizza the day before that. Go buy something to make for yourself."

Shizuri sighed and reached into the pocket of her shorts, grabbing a marker. It was swiftly knocked out of her hand by a streak of shadow and fell to the floor. She rolled over onto her stomach and looked down at it with an unhappy expression. She knew exactly what the Fairy was trying to say and there was no point in denying it. Himura Shizuri would be the one to go out, not Kuroe. At least there was a convenience store just around the corner.

"Fine."

She climbed out of the hammock and picked up the marker, returning it to her back pocket. It would take just a few minutes. Nothing at all to worry about.

With a bit of a grimace she slipped into her shoes and left the apartment.


[System]
Age: 31

Appearance: Yuri stands 5'10" and has a subtle muscular frame at 165 lbs. He tries to keep both brown hair and beard trimmed enough to avoid them getting caught in any moving machinery. His current wardrobe consists of either the coveralls and engineer's boots he wore on his former job, or a rough looking plaid flannel shirt and threadbare grey cuffed slacks that Abby fished out of the boat's Lost and Found. He promises himself to stop and pick up new clothes someday.

Skills: Until Cal gave him the added responsibility of being 1st Mate, Yuri was settling into his new post as China Doll's mechanic, a job which tended to fit him like a glove. Having demonstrated a way with tools since age 6, Yuri's entire life was a practical education in the workings of large machines, emerging into adulthood as his father's assist on the skyplex over Ezra. From there, he served as an engineer's mate aboard the NS McSorley, an ocean going vessel on New Melbourne. He can machine parts, has a passable knowledge of AI and computer systems, knows his way around reactors, and possesses a knack for engineering on the fly.

The man is terrible at cards, and it can be said that he knows enough to point the correct end of a pistol…but not much else.

Beyond the world of engineering, Yuri's passions are history and music. He has a deep affinity for jazz, and will go out of his way to catch a band in some backstreet bar.

History: Born as the second son of Pyotr and Katja Antonov, Yuri grew up in the power plants and emission generators of terraformers. His childhood was typical for a boy in these environs. He learned the hard life from hard men who lived it. His older brother Ivan taught him still darker lessons through constant bullying and sadistic pranks. At age 16, Yuri and his family were uprooted in the aftermath of Ivan's budding criminal career gone wrong. With the law on his heels, the older Antonov brother found sanctuary in the employ of crime lord Adelai Niska, a contract which eventually sucked the entire family into the spider's web. It was on Niska's skyplex that Pyotr met his death, falling into the gigantic gimbals that preserved balance. Shortly thereafter, Ivan, known as "Crow," found his demise on Regina, during a drug deal gone bad.

At his mother's urging, Yuri escaped Niska's world to forge a new future, putting his skills to work aboard the 1100 ft. long NS Eileen McSorley. There he remained for the next several years, until a powerful hurricane sent the ship to the bottom. He might have died with his crew, had it not been for China Doll and her resident AI coming to lift him out of the storm tossed sea. Nowadays, when he looks into the eyes of his shipmates, Yuri sees the people who saved his life. That knowledge makes it easy to face each day with a sense of gratitude.

[User]
Meet and Greet, Part 2

Capital City, Osiris. Day 1

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The mule kicked as the Captain rolled it down the ramp nice and slow. Yuri, his freshly minted first mate, stood near the base of the ramp beside a woman. Only, hell, that wasn't just a woman. Cal tipped his hat back automatically, slotting the mule into park while dismounting.

After taking her in for a moment, from those scarlet red heels to that impeccable hairdo, Cal could tell a few things right and proper. The first was undeniably male, especially given those leather pants, but the second was that he could already suss a thing or two about a woman who walked toward the China Doll like that.

In his recent, hazy memory the Captain couldn't call up slighting any lovers past or present that could bear semblance to what he saw before him. Barring ex-trysts, plus the fact that she stuck out like a sore thumb what wanted to be noticed, Cal deigned purpose the driving factor singling the China Doll out among the rest. Sauntering beside his compatriot, the Captain addressed the visage before them.

"What Yuri means is, there's no ship here finer than the China Doll; especially if you're headed for Pelorum. And ya' are headed there ain'tcha, Shao Jeh...?" Captain Strand removed a cigarette from his silver case while he awaited her reply.

<Tag Yuri and Quill>

[Assistant]
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Meet and Greet, Pt 3

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Quill continued forward, aware of the eyes on her now. So much for the element of surprise. It wasn't every passenger aboard a vessel that was trained in hand-to-hand combat. Still, she could easily work around that. The galaxy was a dangerous place, after all.

Moving forward, someone caught her eye. Well, if she were being honest, multiple things caught her eye.

The first was the man with the cast. He looked like he traveled more for business than pleasure. Handsome, sure, in a rugged sort of way, though his clothing was a bit....peculiar. As she walked toward him, he greeted her. She detected the faint accent. All things pointed to this being a strong candidate for her needs.

The second was the ship itself. Quill wasn't picturing a luxury liner to take her to the resort but she definitely wasn't expecting this. She supposed that if it flew and didn't explode upon launch, that was good enough for the crew. Beggars couldn't be choosers. It looked like it was cared for, at least. And weren't those the best ships anyway?

The third, and last, was another man who came to join them. He all but screamed authority and, if she had to guess, this was the Captain. She took note of the ship's name. The China Doll. That was an interesting name, though she supposed it had stories to tell. If these two were part of the crew, she imagined the voyages it took were interesting.

She decided to greet them both. "Good day to you both. I am, indeed, looking for a passage to Pelorum. If you have room aboard your ship, I would appreciate it. I can pay, of course." She thought about sharing who she was, really, but she had to remember that she did not know these men and did not know their reason for heading to Pelorum in the first place. Could be honest workers or criminals for all she knew. But if she got a ride there, all the better.

"Going there for business and maybe some pleasure, if it can be scraped. Is that all right with you gentlemen?"

<Tag Yuri and Cal>

[User]
Meet and Greet - Part 4

A sudden, awkward pause fell over the little gathering. Yuri waited, expecting Cal to respond to the woman's question. Instead, the Captain's head turned, eyes landing upon the mate with a look that told him he'd completely blown his cue. "Absolutely, Miss," he blurted to fill the void. "This is our captain, Cal Strand," he made the introduction. "I'm Yuri Antonov, first mate," he said, offering a courteous smile which broadened as he turned to gaze upon the boat. "And this lovely lady is the China Doll."

Yuri turned back to face their prospective customer. "We have both single and double rooms. The doubles are a bit more comfortable," he added, propping the clipboard upon his cast. "We'd be delighted to have you fly with us, ma'am."

<tag Quill, Cal>


[System]
Age: 24

Race: Human

Appearance: Sylvia is usually mistaken for some passing bystander, and that's just fine. It helps her in her line of work. She likes to act as a cheerful, bubbly girl who couldn't possibly do any wrong… until her target ends up with a dagger in their back.

Equipment: Sylvia doesn't necessarily like to use armor, since she believes it make her conspicuous to her targets. However, she realizes that she is in a different world now, with dangerous, unknown creatures lurking behind the portals. For added protection, she bought herself a chainmail tunic she now wears under her outer garments. She changes up her clothes and disguises based on what she feels is needed most for the mission. Her weapons consist of a meticulously sharpened dagger, honed to a needle-sharp point, capable at attacking vulnerable areas.

Personality: Sylvia's act as a cheerful individual is really only a half-act. It is true that she is friendly to others, but years of killing has negated her sense of care for human life, and even if she were to make a few friends, she would harbor no sadness if they died. Still, she respects people's usefulness and utility, knowing that even she would need allies.

History: Sylvia grew up in a crime-ridden city by the name of Karadun, to the far south. At the age of eleven she had already marked up her first kill: An orphan boy who had stolen her meal. She had done it quickly and mercilessly, like it was a natural reflex. She was never caught. From then on several gangs and guilds within Karadun requested her services as an assassin, specializing as an unseen blade. One day, she killed the wrong person, and fearing retribution, was forced to flee, ending up in a strange city where magic was prominent and adventurers were common. Despite her dangerous upbringing, she studied the arcane arts on her spare time, which was few and far between. An adventurer at heart, she found that she had a chance at starting over, in this city of rifts and alternate worlds.

Guild Ranking: Wood

Misc: Sylvia has developed the use of certain spells over the years, like masking the sound of her footsteps or blending into her surroundings. She can even transform herself into certain inanimate objects, albeit for a few seconds.

Goals: Sylvia knows that she will die someday, most likely in a botched assassination or at the hands of some monster deep within the rifts. Before this happens, she wants to see and travel to as many other worlds as possible.

[User]
As she attempted to make her way to Marianne, she was constantly hindered by clan-rats that obstructed her path. Such creatures would have been a walk in the park, had she not been injured earlier. Her problems were compounded by the fatigue that settled in with every sword swing she made. Fariha may be a seasoned hunter but like most living beings, her stamina wasn't limitless.. Especially after using a chunk of magical energy for a single spell.

A scream rang out amidst the combat. Ayse. The huntress made the simple mistake of being distracted by her injured ally and the clan rat took advantage of it, thrusting his crude dagger forward. Fariha narrowly dodged the strike with a sidestep, however the blade still drew blood, making a shallow cut to her abdomen. She cursed as she cut the clan-rat's head clean off with her blade. Too many mistakes were being made in such a short period of time, and it was making the wood elf agitated. This was precisely why she preferred to work alone. Less room for error, less need to care about allies. The only person she could blame is herself.

Fariha retreated slightly as Ayse's flame consumed the area, anticipating a damaging flame since the caster was consumed with pain, but to her surprise, the flames burned away at the clan-rats and healed her wounds. The wood elf took this opportunity to retrieve her bow after noticing that Marianne seemed to be just fine on her own.

Siph's call pierced through the noise. His words causing Fariha to click her tongue in distaste. "If only I hadn't missed..", she muttered to herself as she fought her way toward her bow. As she cut down the clan-rats, in the corner of her eye she noticed that her bow was being carried away by a skaven who thought it could claim it for it's own. In a swift action, she flung her hunting dagger at the thief, the dagger lodging itself into the rat's neck. The bow clattered on the stone floor as the creature dropped dead.

Fariha pulled the dagger out of the rat's neck, it's blood pouring out as the wound was left open. Picking up her bow, she scanned the area. Most of the Skaven had fled if they weren't already dead, the Stormvermin hadn't budged, their resolve much stronger than their lesser comrades. The clan rats that remained seemed confused and lost in panic. Easy prey. If she knew where the Shaman was, he'd be dead in an instant. He's lucky that he's not in her sights... Yet.

[Assistant]
Pulling his axe free from the dead stormvermin the orc quickly turn to face the second stormverim swinging his axe at the second one. The second armor rat was warned to the orc presence by the death of its comrade it was quick to react. The rat could reflect the incoming axe swing by Gorrmar. The stormvermin quickly retaliated by jabbing at the greeskin heart hoping to end the fight there. Thankfully Gorrmar could recover in time to doge out of the jab and quickly embed his axe into the rat's neck. Suddenly the familiar flame of Sylvia engulfed his body. The greenskin grunted as the magic fire washed over him. As arcane fire burned the toxin out of the large greenskins wounds he could felt his strength returning in force. With his renewed state the orc quickly butchered the clanrats that were trying to sneak up on him.

The cries of the dwarfs drew Gorrmar drew his attention to the main battle. The orc joined with the dwavern ranks helping kill the surviving clanrats and the stormverim. As he and dwarfs were eliminating the last of the skaven he could hear Siph warn about the shaman. Hearing that the shaman is here he doubled his efforts trying to quickly finished off the surviving skaven.

[User]
"Ah! God dammit!" Sylvia looked over to the source of her pain: Ayse, who had used her flames to burn away the poison inside her. Of course, this helped her rid the deadly venom, but there was a side effect: There had been burning flames inside her, at least for an instant, and it felt about as painful as it sounded.

"Thank you, but damn, that hurt!!" Sylvia held her wound, and besides the earlier blood, she felt no new blood flowing out. Most likely, the flames had dried up the wound in a way. Probably not enough to cauterize it, but enough to at least staunch the bleeding. She quietly recited the words to her transparency spell, and she felt the familiar lightness overtake her.

She was see-through now, nearly invisible. All around her, the battle raged on. Dwarves clashed with Skaven, hammers breaking skulls and swords piercing flesh. The sounds and stenches of battle and death filled the air, and occasionally a Skaven or Dwarf would come near her, missing her hunched silhouette.

At this point, she was really regretting getting rid of her armor earlier, but still, not getting rid of it my have gotten her impaled by that halberd, which would have been a fate much, much worse.

I suppose I'll just consider myself lucky.

She still had her dagger in her hand, in case a Skaven tried to get a stab at her. When -- if she got back, she made a mental note to buy some better armor, something more, well, stab resistant.

She felt the remnants of the rat poison coursing through her body, numbing her limbs and making them go lax. She kept hitting the back of her hand on the ground to regain feeling in them, so much that she had begun to see bruises form on her knuckles. Still, anything was better than losing the ability to fight. Once that was gone, she might as well be dead. The good thing was, however, the poison seemed to be fading. Once it did, she would be able to fight properly again. Well, if the cut on her belly was ignored.

She saw a pair of armored paws shuffle in front of her, stopping in their tracks. She looked up to see another Stormvermin, sniffing at her translucent form, turning its metal-encased head in an inquisitive way.

Well, guess I have no choice, then.

From her crouched form, Sylvia rose up quickly, attempting to stab the skaven through its vulnerable mandible. She saw its eyes widen, and at the last second, it batted away her hand. Sylvia staggered to the side, struggling to keep her form. However, her limbs were reacting slowly, sluggishly, like they were under water.

And I have your bastard halberd friend to thank for that.

The Stormvermin wielded a vicious-looking warpick, the single spike at its end bristling with razor-sharp protrusions and dwarf blood. The weapon looked like it could bring down the most heavily armored warriors in a single, powerful strike. And judging by the dead dwarves around them, it already had.

And what did Sylvia have? Her own bloodied clothes, and an excessively sharp knife.

[Assistant]
The bearded and bloodied clan of iron willed Dwarves breached the impossibly sturdy wall of clanrats and their Stormvermin coubterparts, every member from either sidr had tasted blood now. In the end, as history had written it all those years ago, it had been been that stubborn tenacity of the mountain dwelling folk and the near sacrifice of their king at the critical junction that had sealed the fate of the rat scourge.

Of course there were many more that would have died if not for the actions of that strange party of mercenaries that had come from the grey range far beyond the steps of their homeland.

Mariannes Mantis had made a fine impact on the line as it skewered rats with impunity, the others rallying around its feet as the savage Greenskinned battlerager tore into the armored rats with the same unrivaled fury it had displayed when the fighting had began.
Such things often inspired others to redouble their efforts in an attempt to rival such a display.
It helped that the Orcs axe, as it swung about in a blind fury, had managed to distract the War pick wielding stormvermin that had cornered the translucent Sylvia. While not seriously injured, it had lost sight of its prey and become overrun with foes. Forced to retreat or be destroyed.

The Skaven line had fallen to nearly half its size it minutes as it was caught under the pressure of a concentrated effort. Their king was already being pulled from the fight, to the steps of his throne, and the few other rats left were struggling to dig through the solid stone wall.
In the end.. they were just rats.
Siph had come to the aid of the King as the golden figure lay broken on the steps breathing their last. Two deep wounds had delivered fatal injuries to the proud ruler. Siphs strange healing mist had only slowed the process but could not save Cragshield from his fate.

"Rest, king. If your gods have no more need of you.. You will find peace."

The Dwarf king did not respond, would not, but simply nodded. Eyes closed in respect.

Siph rose and strode from the steps, stolen axe in hand, to the breach, and entered without a word. He would beat the group to the Shaman. Hopefully silence the bell, or kill the shaman, but that was something he doubted would be accomplished alone.
The group would need time to recover, lick their wounds if only a little, before toppling the final piece of this grand retelling. Siph would pay for that time with his own two hands.
Through the breach made by the assassins during their flank he disappeared from sight, the heavy curtain of true darkness swallowing him completely as the torchlight faded behind him.

[User]
Sylvia was prepared to engage in a bloody brawl against the vermin wielding a warpick, analyzing all manners of attack and how to minimize the injuries she would receive. However, the massive axe-wielding orc was wildly swinging nearby, causing chaos and confusion within the ranks of the rats.

The warpick rat staggered back along with the rest of the Skaven, driven back by the wildly swinging orc. Sylvia let out a breath. For now, at least, she was safe. She looked among the corpses of several fallen warriors beneath her feet.

Surely, they wouldn't need their things in the afterlife.

Among the first things she found was a few gold pieces, good to spend on shops after they got out of the rift.

A curiosity she had found on one of the Skaven corpses was a small, glass bottle topped with a cork. The inside was filled with a sick, nearly luminescent liquid. Just looking at it nearly made her retch. Certainly, this was the poison the Skaven coated their weapons with. To think that this stuff was inside of her body a few minutes ago.

Her wish for some better armor was fulfilled, as she found a set of plate gauntlets from a smaller dwarf, of course, dead as well. Surprisingly, as she slipped on the gauntlets, they fit surprisingly well around her slender forearms. They were a bit weighted, but at least her hands wouldn't be cut off.

Another curiosity was the hilt and a bit of blade of a former sword, now broken. She didn't know why, but she felt compelled to keep it with her, despite its initial perceived uselessness. Who knows, maybe someday it would turn out to be some hidden relic of a time long past. Or it could have just been junk.

The best thing she had found, in her opinion, was the last. As Sylvia picked through the remains of the dead Dwarves and Skaven alike, she found a flat, wide blade, the shortsword of a former Dwarf. As she picked it up, she almost cut herself, as the blade was surprisingly light, almost too light; a weight comparable to her dagger. She grinned, imagining the bloodshed she could wreak with such a special weapon. She had decided to name it the "Feathered Blade" for both its weight and its shape, which reminded her of a bird's feather.

To her right, she saw something peculiar: The party's guide, Siph, had disappeared into the Skaven breach, all by himself! The torchlight faded as he went deeper into the darkness. Like a true assassin, Sylvia stalked towards the breach, walking cat-like through the darkness. The absence of light wasn't much of a problem for her, as she only had to follow the light casted by Siph's torch.

Now, where could you be going?