Ozma Howitzer's Story

The crewmen look around. Some of them seem discomforted by presence of an AI. After all, the Jupiter Rebellion a couple of years ago was caused by misinformation and a malfunctioning AI. Fear, surprise, suspicion, disgust.....all these negative emotions open and visible on their faces.

Most of them move on to head towards the Second Deck Meeting Room. But one of them stays. A blonde and green-eyed young man with the name of Ozma Howitzer. Leaning on the wall while cradling a red rose, Ozma takes note of Durandal's symbol, before gazing at the ceiling.

"I speak for myself, but...it was not a bad experience. It was...odd, at first...trapped in a narrow white coffin...unable to see, unable to hear....but it did not take long for me to fall into my slumber."

Ozma closes his eyes and sniffs his rose, taking a long, deep breath. "The sleep felt quick. I did not even dream...."

The Captain glances at Abigail, and nods. "At ease.", he gruffly mutters, his finger having stopped tapping the table, he grabs his mug and takes a sip as Raxis entered. Taking his sweet time, the Captain did not immediately reply until he finished drinking and puts his mug back at the table. "Morning....night....doesn't matter. I'm an old fart.", he says, before rubbing his eyes, responding to Raxis' informality with his own lax tone.

One by one, the other crew members enter. Engineers, janitors, soldiers...though mostly soldiers, it seems. A hulking alligator-like man stands out in particular, folding his muscular arms and sitting next to a simply-dressed woman in black, who seems to be gazing vacantly while setting up her odd analog watch.

A redheaded girl with an air of inexperience sits down, her hands clasped and her gaze forward. Nearby, a blonde man in white sits as he puts a rose inside his suit pocket.

While the UEGS Marco Polo was given Government License to operate in Stratevaria, it is technically not a government unit....at least, not completely. Many of the members on board are freelancers and mercenaries, hence the lack of a dress code and the general air of informality, particularly amongst the younger members.

Jannelo comes soon, his steely eyes and tall build standing out in particular, and he stands next to the Captain with his arms folded.

DAY 1
05.26 AM
===============================================

Ozma stops sniffing his rose, and turns his green eyes towards Gelon.

"By the sounds of it, you are our engineer." His tone and stare ice-cold.

"If it is not too much to ask, I sincerely hope your carelessness does not blow up this ship and kill everyone on board."

Ozma doesn't waste time trying not to endear himself to Gelon, and he turns around, before haughtily flipping his hair.

"In any case, I will see you in the Second Deck Meeting Room."

Ozma walks away, his steps echoing in the corridor.

The Captain pulls down his hat, and straightens his posture.

"Thank you, Durandal, no music for now. That will be all...I need some peace and quiet.", Drake mumbles.

Time passes, and spotting the last crewman, James, take a seat, Drake clasps his hands and begins his speech.

"Well. Here we are, boys and girls. Stratevaria. 50 billion light years away from earth....so don't expect to see your mommy or daddy anytime soon."

He takes a deep breath, and presses a button on the briefing table, to bring up a holographic map....an empty map, with only the Marco Polo on the lower right corner.

"We've got lots of space to cover, and lots of shit to do....so let's get one thing straight."

He looks at everyone in the room, and continues,

"Some of you ain't gonna like each other. Hell, some of you might have even tried to kill one another. But it doesn't matter. Whether you were born in earth, mars, or jupiter....whether you be a normal, a GMP, a cyborg....you're part of the crew now. You're gonna need each other, so I expect you to work together."

The Captain fixes his hat, then stands up, pacing around the table.

"Also, I ain't gonna lie. This trip's most likely going to be boring. And if everything goes well, it will be. You joined the Marco Polo not to fight, but to explore. If you wanted to simply shoot people, you would've stayed on eath. Least that's what I'm hoping. Kids these days don't seem to read the fine print....", the Captain grouchily mumbles.

He finally stops pacing.

"In any case...my first point stands. Get to know each other. Mingle, talk,.... and try not to kill each other." judging by his annoyed tone, seems like that last pard happens quite a lot....

"You'll get plenty of chances to do that once you head to the mess hall. That'll be all.", the Captain then looks at Darkstar, who nods.

Darkstar walks from his wall, and begins his drill sergeant nasty routine once more, cracking his knuckles.

"ALRIGHT, LIGHTWORLDERS! You may not be seein' a lotta action out here in Stratevaria, but you'll still need to keep yourself FIT and HEALTHY! So here's today's schedule!"

"Head down to the mess hall, and eat your damn breakfast in 20 minutes! You'll have time to relax for an hour, LET THAT FOOD DIGEST, then we're going to meet at the training room, and you're going to SHOW ME WHAT YOU'VE GOT!! I've seen your profiles, but words means NOTHING if your actions can't prove them! NEXT, familiarize yourself with the layout of the ship --- talk, read, whatever.... while we sort you people out, place you in your units, give you your schedules."

Darkstar puts his hands behind his back, and looks around, at everybody, with those steely eyes of him.

"You better give me an impressive show, boys and girls, cause I'm here to keep an eye on you, NOT babysit. Now, MOVE!"

In no time, the mess hall becomes quite populated. So many faces....faces they'll be seeing everyday from now on.

Sparda's food is quite enjoyable, and he cooks a wide variety of dishes they could choose from, though he seems to have a habit of pouring too much sauce, or salt, or pepper....

Amongst the many people pouring in, is one of the largest and widest crew member, the blue giant, Mosa Belkan. With a permanent crocodillian smile on his face, he looks around for a suitable table to sit in, and his attention is drawn towards Abigail and Erik.

"YO!", Mosa bellows out a mere second after Erik asked Abigail, and sits down in front of them, his weight very audibly causing the chair to squeak. "Great morning, da?", a rough and gruff, heavily russian-accented voice greets them. Casually, he picks an oversized chicken leg from his tray and devours it like a beast.

On the other corner, a woman in black looks around for a fitting table. The golden antique watch on her wrist stands out quite a bit compared to her all-black ensemble. She notices James sitting alone on his table, and casually, without a hint of doubt or reservation, she plops down next to him, a mischievous smile plastered on her calm face.

In the crowd, a red-haired young woman nervously looks around, holding a tray filled with cereal and fruits. From the way she looks around, constantly and unsurely, it's pretty obvious that she's a rookie. This is even probably her first time with a semi-military group.

"ALRIGHT!"

An hour has passed as everyone, including the medic Katherine and the armsmith Nyles is summoned to the training room. Jannelo marches in front of the entire crew, with his hands behind his back, putting on his drill sergeant persona once again.

"You had your fill, you had your rest....now it's time for ACTION!"

Jannelo stops marching, and points towards the combat grounds.

"I'm sure most of you've seen this set up before...and if you haven't...WELL!"

The target shooting boards pops out of the rails, with red dots all over its body and head. It moves left and right, or forward and back, depending on the rails.

"Shoot, hit, or blow up the damn things! I wanna see how good your arms are."

Jannelo folds his arms.

"Your score will be based on your speed, accuracy, and efficiency!"

And then he cocks his head.

"Durandal, START RECORDING!"

Ozma Howitzer and Deunan Knight trains nearby; Ozma showing off his gun-kata skills which are quick, and stylish, if inefficient. Meanwhile, Deunan is quick on her feet, but isn't very good at her aim, and her score is, in Durandal's database, the lowest so far.


-----

Jannelo folds his arms and nods, looking over everyone, then claps twice.

"ALRIGHT! Good job everyone, but we're not done yet. I've seen you all fight one by one....but now is time to see how well you play as a team."

Jannelo gestures them to line up, and looks over the assembled soldiers, eyes briefly glancing to Erik, but mostly focused on the entire group.

Standing straight, Jannelo holds up two fingers. "TWO TEAMS; TWO COMMANDERS!....Any volunteers?"

Jannelo looks at Erik and nods. "Gunnarson, red team. Choose your squad!"

So far, the lineup is....

1). Abigail,
2). Raxis,
3). james,
4). Preston,
5). Gelon,
6). Clockwork,
7). Mosa,
8). Deunan,
9). Ozma,
10). and possibly Nyles, if he chooses to join.


Jannelo then turns around. "Alright! Who's gonna lead blue team?"

At the same time, he glances to a nearby camera, and orders, "Durandal, prepare the simulated battlefield; Urban warzone!"

The target shooting boards are retracted back into the rails. In their spot, barriers, metal covers, and walls of various height and thickness appears. A pair of turrets also appear; one in the red zone, the other in the blue.

Jannelo's face remains stone cold at Abigail's remark. "Funny.", he says, in complete deadpan.

He then looks at the remaining crew members ---Abigail, Preston, Mosa, Ozma, and Deunan..

He looks back at Abigail. "You."

"You lead the blue team."

He then folds his arms and sits on a stool.

Ozma looks surprised --and seemingly a bit angry, as he crushes his rose. Mosa, on the other hand, looks quite eager, cracking his knuckles before putting his helmet. Deunan nods to Abigail encouragingly, nervousness very visible in her face.

Abigail let out a small gasp. "Me? Lead? .....Fantastic." You could almost see the sarcasm. She turned to look at her team as they gathered around their blue turret. She eyed them one by one, thinking for a bit. "Alright, I'll start right off the bat that I'm no leader but thats not to say we can't win this."

She takes a deep breath. "Right, so, I noticed that Erik snagged members that can get us from medium to long-range, and maybe even close range. They've got all their bases covered. The turret is the biggest concern. I'm going to need one of you to take it out." Abigail looks at Mosa. "You could throw one of the metal covers at it, we have more than enough to spare. We'll also need someone to operate the our turret. So whoever thinks they have the best aim, go for it." Abigail flexes her robotic arm's claws. "I can create force-fields that are extremely resilient, bullet fire isn't much of a problem for me, so you all can get closer to your targets, since I know most of you favour melee combat. But I'll need to focus in order to keep them up so I need you to keep anyone off my tail." She sighs. "If things go south, I trust your judgement to do what is necessary. Big rule. Do NOT let them gang up on you. Work in duos if you have to. I'll hang back behind cover, shifting position every so often so I can focus. I'm open to suggestions."

Preston watched as his brother left for the Red Team. It was somewhat funny to him, since they had always worked together. But he really thought nothing of it, since it was just a training exercise. As he was turning to head back to the remaining crew, he heard his name, among others, being called out by Darkstar. He walked over to the group and listened as the blue leader was finally chosen.

He looked over to Abigail as Darkstar assigned her as their leader, keeping quiet as she addressed the group. He glanced around at his teammates, checking each of their expressions, to which he found Ozma's the most amusing, as it was both sad and funny. He then refocused as Abigail went over the battle plan, nodding lightly in agreement to ideas he agreed with. When she asked for suggestions, he glanced around and raised his hand. "It sounds pretty solid. As you said, work together and use good judgement. Fighting isn't by-the-book. It's unpredictable, so adapt to the changes accordingly." He took a quick glance back at Red Team. "Remember, no one fights alone."

Mosa,holding his helmet under his right arm,nods vigorously. "NO problem!",with a boisterous, sure, but not overconfident tone. He seems quite happy with his team,though something about him....perhaps it's that predatory glare...? Makes it seem like he's just glad to finally find a chance to shoot something.

Ozma nods to Abigail's words."You think quickly and carefully. Let's just hope Miss Fortune is on our side today." He seems to be very eager to criticize her, yet could find no fault in her plan....for now.

He then gives Preston a doubtful look."No one fights alone..but nobody could use anybody as a crutch either",he thinks to himself.

Deunan stands straight and salutes Abigail eagerly."Y-yes ma'am!" Doubt and lack of confidence in her mind, but out of the three, she seems to be the most eager to work together.

The alarm blares, signing the beginning of combat. Mosa puts on his helmet and reloads his light machinegun. "HAHAHA! Showtime!!!", before scrambling over, with Ozma behind him.

Deunan reloads her pistol, then turns to Preston."S-sir!" She must've noticed he is unarmed, and keeping a calm face, she offers him her pistol. "I have a spare!"

Preston took a step back, startled by the unannounced alarm. He watched as Red Team got into formation, while Mosa and Ozama took off into the action, leaving the rest of the Blue Team to catch up. As he searched around for a weapon, he heard Deunan call to him. He turned to her just as she finished reloading a pistol and handed it to him. He took the pistol in his hand, quickly giving it an inspection. Seeing as it was fully loaded and the safety off, he flashed her a quick smile and nodded. "Thank you kindly, Deunan. Let's do this."

The alarm goes off like a bomb and there's no more time for chit chat. Raxis gets up just like James and Erik knows they might have a tactical advantage there.

"Raxis, James, status report, what are we looking at here, how are they deploying?"

At it's most basic level combat was not terribly complicated. You deployed explosives to deal with vehicles, snipers to eliminate key targets, but at the end of the day, you always needed infantry for the messy jobs. The basics were simple but the finer shades of nuance that truly made someone a combat genius were oh so hard to master. As one such man had said "No plan survives contact with the enemy".

He saw Ozama and Mosa come barreling down range and decided to drive them into the traps. He leaned out of cover pouring fire at them in short bursts of 3-5 rounds each. As soon as he'd fired off a couple he ran from his cover to his fall back location back beyond the second set of traps, hailing the rest of the team on the radio as he did. "Hard Contact! Hard Contact! I've got two Uglies coming down on my position." Bullets screeched around him as he zigged zagged and finally threw himself headlong to get to cover rolling up on his knees as he did so. As soon as he was in cover he armed a grenade in his underslung launcher and sent it sailing to detonate just between the pair of fighters coming down at him and the center of their side of the field. Let them think he was trying to drive them away from the turret. In truth he hoped it would be a trap either way, if they avoided the turret they ran into the traps trying to flank, if they went for the turret he would try and trap them in a merciless crossfire. But if they took that turret then this could turn into a bloodbath as they'd get caught "between the Devil and the deep blue sea" as the expression went.

Deunan was quiet for a bit, seemingly surprised by Preston's positive and respectful response. But the sounds of Mosa and Ozma moving brings her back to reality, and she nods."Yes!!",before looking ahead, reloading another pistol, and immediately running towards cover.

Ozma's quick reflexes allowed him to spot Erik as he comes out of his cover, and even though he knows Abigail provided them with the barriers, their lack of experience working together instinctively drove him to dive behind Mosa. Erik's bullets bounces off Abigail's barrier, each hit causing a ripple that both reveals and weakens the barriers. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!", Mosa yells out boisterously, running over in his heavy power armor. Unfortunately, in his confidence, Mosa failed to notice the traps Gelon and Clockwork placed.

Magnificent explosions erupt underneath his feet; Gelon's foam traps causing the already heavy and unwieldy Mosa to become stuck. "GARRRRGH-", but before he can even finish roaring out his frustations, CLockwork's chain mines blows up and damages Mosa's armor, causing several pieces to fall off. If he wasn't over seven foot tall and covered in ridiculously heavy armor plating, he'd be dead --or permanently stuck-- for real. He stumbles out of the foam trap, and starts firing his light machine gun wildly; very inaccurate and careless, but his gun is big enough and his range wide enough, that the bullets still threaten to hit anyone in sight.

Ozma, meanwhile, managed to avoid the traps, and strafes forward, firing his twin submachineguns at both Gelon and Erik in a zig-zag pattern. This actually exposes him to a great deal of damage, but he is so quick and relentless in his movements, that you'd have to be a real good shot to actually hit him.

Clockwork remains behind cover, holding onto her shotgun and waiting for an opportune moment.

Deunan, meanwhile, has made her way on one of the walls on the edge of the arena, and with her handgun, she begins observing the battlefield....when she comes across the sight of Raxis. She remembers Abigail still on the turret, and crouching down, with a communicator, she contacts Abigail, whispering. "Ma'am! I see the cyborg bird of prey! Would you like me to act as distraction while you take aim and gun him down?"

Preston remained behind Abigail's barriers, watching the battle play out for a moment. He watched as bits of foam and mine shrapnel flew into the air, and hearing the inhuman roar meant that Mosa had sprung a few traps. He waited, hoping Blue Team hadn't already lost their tank, but was relieved as Mosa came stumbling out, his LMG firing in all directions. Ozma appearing to do the same. At least it was good suppressive fire.

He looked over to Deunan, who had made her way to a wall at the edge of the arena. Given Mosa and Ozma keeping the other team pinned for the moment, he crouch-ran over to Deunan, pressing himself flat against the wall and inching along it, getting a quick peek at the other side. He saw the area was clear, no traps, no enemies, and the walls provided cover from the turrets line-of-sight. Taking the opportunity, he crouched down again and hugged the wall, sneaking over to another wall, inching himself closer to Red Team.

OOC: May not be able to post for a day or two since I have two 10-hour shifts coming up. Just wanted to update.

James returned the fist bump and nodded his head. "The hunt is always good." He replied with a slight laugh, both to show his commitment to the team and to satisfy Erik's comm check. As the two others left, Erik turned to him and Raxis, letting them know their priorities of taking out Mosa and Abigail. "Si, consider it done."

The alarm went off, perfect. James turned to some of the higher-leveled platforms and spotted one that gave him a hawk's-eye view of the entire battlefield as well as enough cover that he wouldn't be spotted easily. As he turned and started moving to his selected spot, Raxis unfolded his wings making the already imposing being even more intimidating. "Damn..." James whispered to himself as he made his way over to the platforms and began his climb to the top platform with his PSG1 slung over his back. That however, was not a problem for Raxis as James watched in jealousy as Raxis simply flew up to his own platform without any problems whatsoever. After a brief moment, James reached his desired location and went prone as he unfolded the bipod on his sniper rifle and inserted a 10-round magazine into it, smiling as it clicks into place. He then beings fine-tuning his rifle, adjusting the scope for the range as well elevation and and the stock's cheek rest and shoulder pad. Feeling comfortable with his adjustments, James closed his left eye as he scans the field below him, pulling the bolt on his rifle to cycle the first round into the chamber.

Looking through, he already sees both his team and the blue team engaging one another. He heard Erik's request for an update, but he had to stay focused and couldn't be distracted. "Sorry Erik, you'll get your update soon enough." James thought to himself as he muted his helmet's comm. as he aimed his sniper rifle near Erik to see who he was actively engaging, or being engaged by. To his joyous surprise, it turned out to be none other than Mosa and Ozma. A smile formed under his helmet and James let out a small laugh as he saw the two running into battle like complete fools. It was so bad it was funny. As if things couldn't get any more comical, Mosa walked right into one of the mines Clock and Gelon set up. Causing a huge, but beautiful explosion and foam to engulf him for a moment before he breaks free and starts spraying his LMG like a spaz, sending bullets everywhere.

Ozma, on the other hand, was lucky enough to avoid the same fate Mosa came upon but still ran towards Erik like a fool, firing his smg's at him while moving in a zig-zag pattern. While smart, it wasn't going to save him from James' revenge-fueled goal. Flipping the safety off, James put Ozma in his crosshair while aiming a bit to the right so he could lead the bullet to Ozma's helmeted face. As he did this, James couldn't help but laugh at the fact that Ozma's helmet was basically a green bunny-eared bucket. This made it all the more enjoyable now that James finally got to carry out his desire of humbling his British enemy.

"Get ready limey, this yankee doodle is going to put more than a feather in your cap." James whispered. It was a horrible joke, but he saw it most fitting for the scenario being played out between Ozma and himself. He took a deep breath in and slid his finger over the the trigger and gently squeezed it, exhaling as his rifle sent it's present streaking dead on towards his prey. *Thack* The bullet hit Ozma right in his goofy bunny-eared helmet, sending him tumbling to the ground and onto his back. Despite knowing one round was enough, James fired off the rest of his remaining 9 rounds into Ozma's crotch, stomach, arms and legs until he heard the distinctive click of his rifle, letting him know it was empty. Watching Ozma twitch and flop on the ground like a fish out of water filled James with happiness and satisfaction. While Ozma would be perfectly fine with no permanent damage, there was for sure going to be a lot of pain and bruises following the training mission, not that James cared though.

After making sure Ozma was sure as hell out for the count, James calmly and quickly reloaded his sniper rifle, this time replacing it for a 20-round magazine, for his next target was going to require a few more bullets to stop him. Once he was reloaded and the bolt cycled, James moved back over to Mosa, the giant blue-skinned alligator. Shaking his head slightly at seeing Mosa still going beserk and spraying his LMG with no regard to any of his team, James sights his crosshairs at Mosa's body, looking around for any weak spots on his armor for the earlier explosion. "Bueno!" James smirked as he saw that Mosa's right leg and shoulder were exposed.

"Sorry big guy, you seem friendly enough." Unlike Ozma, Mosa seemed like a friendly while scary man, his actions and attitude at the mess hall showed it. Despite this, James knew he still had a job to do and proceeded to sight in at his right leg first and fired off 10 rounds, hitting Mosa in the knee, each bullet impact causing immense amount of pain and bruising. This was enough to cause Mosa to limp as the pain made it too hard for him to support himself on his right leg all the way. After dealing with his leg, James quickly aimed Mosa's exposed right shoulder and fired off another 10 rounds, a few bouncing off of Mosa's armor, slightly denting it, but the remaining 7 rounds hit his shoulder perfectly, making his right arm pretty much useless and now forcing Mosa to only rely on his left arm to hold, fire and reload his weapon. While he may not be out like Ozma, Mosa's combat effectiveness has been greatly hindered.

With both of the two out of the picture for the moment, James decided it was best to relocate and find another spot to control. Silently and stealthily moving away from his previous location, James switches back on his comm. "Sir, Ozma has been taken care of and is out for this fight. Mosa has been dealt with and will be having trouble walking and using his weapon. However, he is still able to continue the battle. I'm sure he'll be no problem for you to deal with. I'm going to relocate to a different spot to hunt."

Durandal watched the battle with interest through not only the ceiling cameras, but also through the mechanical "eyes" of the lifter robots now carrying the poor victims of the battle back to the infirmary. The limiter fields, amazing inventions as they were, had prevented most damage, but quite some surgery was necessary in many cases, and thus Durandal unfolded numerous durgical arms in the ceiling of the medical bay.

As the injured began rolling in, some unconscious, some chattering away casually, Durandal applied anaesthetics to one and all, surgical arms removing armour plates, shutting off limiter fields and getting to work on removing shrapnel and applying the nanocream, a sort of incubator for billions of tiny robots that would make repairs to various injuries.

The only exception was Raxis: the independent robot's AI was simply uploaded into one of dozens of identical bodies stored somewhere in the cargo bay.

Soon, the humans began waking up, most probably still in vicious pain but not actually experiencing any injuries.

"IF YOU WISH TO PLACE BETS ON ANY TEAM," Durandal commented to the furthest extents of what one might call "joviality," "I WILL HAPPILY RECORD THEM."

as the limiter field was removed by gelon he stopped the arms and sit up "Durandal thanks for the medical assistance but i don't need it, i didn't get wounded badly just some scraps and bruises that is all" he said as he walked over to mosa and sit down by him "guess you are gonna need some medical attention right Mosa?" he asked and pat his hand with a smile "as the name suggests limiter fields don't let us use our full potential but a part of it and i say we all did a fine job with it"