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RP: IPG [IPG Operators] Preliminary Affairs

Silent as ever, Nelew watched the techies help Chandler, Cyrene, and Alaster into their Britivas, then started attempting to put hers on by herself. It went quite well to begin with, but then she ran into a couple of things that she couldn't quite connect on her own. So she stopped trying and stood half-geared up, waiting for a technician to help her.
 
"I didn't mean I was going to dick around all the time, Lenz," Chandler said as the tech strapped the last piece of his Britva into place. "I was just saying that if Cyrene had a sense of humor it wouldn't feel like we were on a fucking death march every time we went on a mission. And besides, you heard me on the last mission; once we hit the operation zone I didn't dick around at all."
 
"Alright, alright. Settle down." Alaster said as they affixed him into the armor, and as he was now holding the helmet in his hand. "Let's keep things professional, we also need a plan on how to do this as safely, quickly, and quietly as possible."

The large Initiate shuffled from foot to foot slightly. "More so then last time...I don't feel like blowing someone up with a rocket this go around."
 
Nel turned her head to Alaster. "I will make no tactical move without your direct order, sir," she said, her eyes fixed on his face (or his eyes, if he looked at her). "What happened on the previous mission will not happen again."
 
The technicians, after several minutes of simply watching, finally began to offer their assistance. One each offered to help Nelew and Alaster, seeing as they were reasonably far into the process. Two more grabbed several pieces of one of the suit and waved for Athrylis to come to them, and two others did the same for Lenz.

Flins had been listening to the chitchat of course, and seemed somewhat confused by some of the claims. He addressed Chandler. "Initiate, pardon what may simply be my ignorance, but I was under the assumption that there were only three Assault Fleets, and a mere one at the time of the Kennewes Offensive. Of course, my reports could easily be faulty..." The Captain trailed off before going into mock thought, stroking his chin. It was probably the closest thing to a joke he'd cracked in 2 years.

He gave a flicker of a smile and started suiting up again, pulling on first the top torso piece of armor.
 
"Captain Flins," Chandler said- barely catching onto the humor in his statement, "The 6th Assault Fleet was a small group of ships with a miniscule detatchment of Marines assigned to it. There were barely even three Shaika-classes in a full battle formation. It was absorbed by the 1st Assault Fleet prior to the Battle of Kennewes due to fleet shortages.

"When the call went out, my ship, the NSS Orion quickly arrived on the scene. We were one of the first squads to touch ground, and one of the last to leave. It was..." Chandler paused briefly before continuing. "It was a tough fight, sir. We lost several good men." Having finished his statement, Chandler stood at ease in front of his Britva locker.

"Anyways, that's all I have to say about that right now. Maybe come back later and ask some more, once we know each-other a bit better. I'm new to the unit, after all, and kind of the odd man out- the only killing machine with a glitch in its programming, figuratively speaking."
 
Cyrene essentially gaped at Chandler for a split second, as the words he said registered. This man is clearly delusional, or an impostor. Threat exceeds acceptable parameters in either situation. Proceeding to neutralize... Rationalizing that, her body moved to action.

"..." The female cyborg immediately bolted forwards and swung with the intention of smashing Chandler on the side of the head, with enough force to incapacitate him or render him unconscious through the armored helmet of his Britva.

Distance... 15 feet... 9 feet... 6 feet...
 
Chandler heard Cyrene's footsteps before he ever even heard them. Rotating a half-step towards the cyborg and her Britva, Chandler simply watched as the swing rocketed towards him. When it was a mere half an inch from his face, a lightning-fast right hand shot up and swatted the speeding hand away.

"What the hell are you doing, Cyrene? Have you cracked or something?!" The larger, although fully organic, ex-Marine half-shouted, half-commanded through his Britva's visor. Completing the short statement, Chandler finished knocking the hand out of the way and aimed a large-booted foot towards Cyrene's midsection, easily carrying twenty-five pounds of "fuck you" force straight towards the cybernetic woman's torso.
 
Athrylis nodded to the technicians that offered to help and moved over to them. "Thank you for your assistance in advance, especially since I am not too familiar with any such equipment," Athrylis admitted. She had tuned out whatever antics the other initiates were up to and, instead, focused on her own worries and on getting the Britva on.
 
Nel accepted the techie's help in putting the remainder of her suit in place. Meanwhile she continued to ignore Chandler, until Cyrene started attacking him.

While he would have a hard time reacting quick enough, Nelew was not under the restrictions placed by a fully biological body. In the time it took for a normal person to register that the punch was incoming, she had already noticed it and calculated the force it would place on its target. Already recognized that this was violence between team members. Already figured the amount of energy she would have to expend to block it and the speed she would have to move to do so.

But Nelew stayed where she was. Because Alaster and Flins had not ordered her to intervene...so, in line with her last statement, she would not make a tactical move without their say-so.

Chandler was in for a world o'hurt...
 
The fist that connected with Chandler's arm was much faster (and more destructive) than the former soldier had originally assumed. As such, the instant Chandler parried the flying arm, he felt bones grinding and eventually warping and snapping against the swing, which didn't even slow down. The sudden pain stopped the foot flying at Cyrene instantly, and the fist caught Chandler's half-protected head with most of the speed it had before he had put his arm up in the first place.

There was a dull thud as the fist connected with Chandler's skull. A hard impact, to be sure. Chandler had no chance of even coming out of the blow intact, let alone conscious. The surprisingly hard strike hit a weak point in Chandler's skull by accident, collapsing the bone inward and pressing heavily against the right side of his brain. Knocked out instantly, Chandler went limp and flew- literally, flew- maybe six feet across the hangar, landing in a heap on the far side.

He didn't move. He was barely breathing, and anyone looking at the vital indicators on his suit would register that his pulse was there, but knocked down by about half its original rate. If Cyrene had hit any harder, Chandler would probably be dead now.
 
Flins would have blinked if he had had eyelids. "Initiates, stand down, now!" The Captain barked. "Initiate Veles, next time, clear with your commanding officer before attempting to eliminate a potential threat."

The half-ID-SOL strode to Chandler's somewhat crumped form, shaking his head. He knelt down and checked for a pulse. "Still breathing," he looked to one of the technicians, "Get a medical team here immediately." The tech nodded in response and bolted out of the armor bay.
 
A low groan escaped Chandler's throat as Flins lifted his shattered arm to check for a pulse.

"What... Happen... Who... The hell... Are you?" Either Chandler was dilusional or that blow to the head knocked something loose. Either way, Chandler's voice sounds different. Instead of the cheerful, offbeat voice he posessed before, Chandler's voice now spoke with a darker, almost sinister edge.
 
Lenz seemed unphased by the sudden violence from the Veles girl as he was assisted into his Britva. "Gonna be a long mission, eh Alaster?" He said rather casually with the barest hint of a smile towards his squad mate. "Nothing like a bit of tough...love to get things rolling."
 
"Looks like it, Lenz, looks like it." Alaster said with a soft shake of his head as he eyed Chandler's form on the floor. "Godforbid they were in my old squad, chances would've been likely a full scale brawl complete with with shattered bones, court martials and a pissed off doctor would've broken out, and made Kennewes look pale in comparison. Granted that's how they usually went." He smiled slightly inside of his helmet.

He then looked up to Cyrene, and sighed.

"Ms.Veles, the next time you pull such a stunt, please notify one of us, "He pointed first to Flins, and then to himself. "Before taking action so as to avoid such things if they are not warranted." Although he silently had to admit, the girl had one hell of a punch. The armored Initiate knelt down beside Chandler, and held him pinned down with a hand both to keep him from doing anything foolish, and to not aggravate his injury.

"I suggest you check your tone soldier, I don't want further hostilities in here. And if I catch any, I'll make what Ms.Veles did look tame in comparison. Understood?" Alaster asked in a hard, even tone, the helmet on his head lending an enigmatic air to the voice being piped out of it.
 
"Beating... The dead dog, Alaster?" Chandler said, attempting to move an armored hand to release the clasp on the Britva's helmet and failing miserably due to his squad leader's restraining hands.
 
"Given the nature of the largely fabricated information he was giving, I assumed him to be either an infiltrator, or dangerously delusional. Either way, those qualities would have made him unsuitable for the mission..." Cyrene explained calmly, as her gaze seem to fall downwards. She felt it was very difficult to maintain eye contact with Alaster, who had been acting far too... nice in comparison to what she was used to. It was an almost foreign concept, and she really had no idea on how to deal with it.

"I- I apologize, Captain Flins, Initiate Alaster. I did exercise restraint and precisely calculated the strength I applied so that I would not cause any permanent structural or brain damage to Initiate Chandler, but my actions were premature." The cyborg said apologetically, suddenly feeling that her actions were entirely out of order. It was almost... painful to think about it. "I will be sure to clear any further removal of dangerous personnel with my immediate superior in the future."
 
"Very well, Initiate Veles," Flins responded to Cyrene, giving her a nod. "However, I think we need to have a chat with Chandler. Perhaps that blow to the side of his head dislodged some holed up information."

Flins lifted Chandler and pushed him up against the wall. By then, the two medics had arrived with the technician, although they mostly just stood by, apparently unneeded.

"Now, Initiate, where did you really serve?"
 
"Star Military of Nepleslia... First Assault Fleet... Zeta Squad, NSS Orion..." Chandler said, attempting a crooked smile. Well, now Flins had a positive ID on Chandler's actual origins- and it was an actual fleet and squad.
 
"Very good," growled Flins, still holding Chandler up against the Armor Bay wall. "Now, why did you feel it prudent to obfuscate your prior assignment?"
 
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