no.
((Response is great~ I just made a squad to have Devin join into when they find him. That way it's a four member team 
gives him an excuse to stick with them. Hope it's not too long! I had to introduce everyone, so it’s longer than my usual response.
On another note, I’m making Diana’s character sheet and artwork soon. It might help with her character))
"Citizens of the Coalition: this is an evacuation zone! Please stay within your designated area until accompanied by a firing squad. Message on Repeat. Citizens of the Coalition: this is an evacuation zone!"
"Bloody ****ing hell, someone turn off the ****ing guide. Before I blow my goddamn brains out."There was a slight cough, before the Gear finished his rant. "'Sides. The civvies are long dead. Ain't no one to evacuate anymore." he murmured.
Vulcan, as his squad had become to call him, mostly for his infamous love of the oversized machine gun, was perhaps the only Gear who found the monotone voice to be an annoyance to his ears. The hardy Islander, once just a lost soul out in the wasteland, was perhaps one of the most "charming" people of the COG. He was an older man, with grey tones shining throughout his loose ponytail at the back of his head and his short beard, and a few scars littered his tan skin. But other than the physical abuse, he was unscathed by battle. And even his personality was somewhat of a form of chipper pessimism. Strapped to his back in a form of a makeshift stranded armor, was a Boomshot, Boltok pistol, and an old, recently jammed Retro Lancer. All of which he had found before the COG had discovered him buried within a Locust tunnel. It turned out, much to Hoffman's shock and admiration, that Vulcan had chose to fight the Locust on his own terms. And with a small recommendation and a bit of sharing of information, he was thrown into the ranks in an instant.
It seemed that from day one he took no fear into consideration when on the field. Even now as he walked through the withered and abandoned mall with a sense of bravado that was unmatched by any other soldier. But for the others, the more sane Gears, the guided voice system that echoed throughout the scattered speakers was all that kept the past at bay. And it's ignorantly blissful voice seemed to be, if anything, a pleasant barrier between the imaginary world of the past and the harsh reality of their future. Like a gentle reminder a not so distant life-
In which was cut out by a single shot from Vulcan's Boltok pistol.
Harris was the one to speak next, "What the **** man, you're gonna give away our position, ****ing holster your gun-"
"Would you relax ye goddamn school girl. The crawlies ain't gonna come out. They haven't been near the place all month," he gave a strong handed pat on the back to the much smaller Gear, "don't be jumpy."
Martin Harris, more commonly known as Twitch, was what could easily be described as the opposite of Vulcan. Scrawnier than most Gears, Harris was a fairly lanky young man, and surprisingly handsome for a soldier of the apocalypse. His platinum blonde hair was swept to the side in a corporate cut, and his almond shaped hazel eyes often portrayed intense levels of concentration and fear. Unlike most, his life before E-Day was the epitome of luxury. According to command, he had a hefty sum of cash in a trust fund somewhere back home, as well as a high class manor, and a family business in stock trades. But despite the appearance and rich history, Harris himself was a man of few words. He didn't care about the past. Didn't care about the future either. The only prerogative he took from his existence was that he was alive. And that was that. So he'd fight to keep it that way.
It wasn't always enough for his comrades. Despite the majority of the COG’s Gears being unlucky bastards pulled off the streets, most didn't enjoy fighting beside a man with no real desire to live. And with his background lacking the patriotism of those who weren’t born of nobility, Harris made enemies naturally. But those who were willing to look past the precedent, as well as his sullen attitude, could find a man of subtle intellect and creativity.
Vulcan, being the man bothered by literally nothing, was one of those people. And because COG forces were stripped thin already, most didn’t object against their odd ragtag of a partnership. In fact, put Harris and Vulcan together, and you had a decent team of skills. A heavy weapons expert and a recon specialist. And occasionally, the two would get along long enough to form a decent squad.
That left Diana Reese. She was shorter than the bunch, although her muscle mass was hardly dainty. Her dirty red hair had been sliced away long ago, now forming a rough mass of a bob around her slightly scarred features. And her once striking blue-green of her eyes was now nothing more than a faded grey, as though the life had left them long before this war. But despite the pitiful appearance she reflected, Diana wasn’t quite so broken as the soldiers around her. Occasionally, a sarcastic smile or half ass smirk crossed her lips. And more often than not, she was an optimist compared to those around her. Her armor, against regulations, had a large strip of blue down the arm. And while many had decorated their dorm rooms with photos of the fallen, Reese had taken the liberty to hang photos of the living instead.
The generalist of the three. While not quite dedicated to the role of the soldier, she had learned to develop her skills into more hopeful approaches. Reese was proficient in the typical Lancer and Shotgun, with much of her outside training directed towards piloting the Birds. Added to Harris and Vulcan, and their once ragtag squad was now a full fledged unit. Command was almost excited by the prospect.
That didn’t, however, mean that their jobs had gotten any less shitty as the days went on. Someone still had to search the ruins of the cities for supplies, and Locust seemed to follow the COG’s every movement these days. Gone for weeks, then back the next. Recon the task for the expendable teams.
This particular event, however, was far beyond the scope of their mandate. A meteor hit the outskirts of Timgad just the night before, and the posted squad never returned. Naturally, Command’s first assumption was that locust had murdered anyone near the crater, but the local logs suggested otherwise. The team had camped within the abandoned mall beforehand, and their documentation of the events noted that not a single grub was in sight. Nor was there a single E-Hole in the facility. No blood. No soldiers.
Reese spoke up, ending the small feud in front of her, “This doesn’t make sense, there’s no indication of the meteor. Wrote about everything but that…”
Vulcan, giving one final slap to Harris’ shoulder, turned his head with a lazy expression, “Maybe they got crushed by it. Beats starvation.”
“Doubt it, they called it in to Command, and then said they left it be,” Diana let her eyes linger outside the window before turning back to the campsite, “and furthermore, where the hell did their supplies go? The rations are gone.”
Harris rolled his eyes meticulously, “Isn’t it obvious? Some stranded robbed them blind. ****ing assholes are everywhere these days,” he kicked at a mannequin on the floor, “this is a waste of time. There’s no one here anymore.”
There was a small scuttle from the back of the mall, and all weapons lifted to point.
“Oh there’s something.” Vulcan made a small tsk tsk as he made his way towards the back, “and I bet it’s a Grub. Hey you! Get out here, ya bastard!”
gives him an excuse to stick with them. Hope it's not too long! I had to introduce everyone, so it’s longer than my usual response.On another note, I’m making Diana’s character sheet and artwork soon. It might help with her character
))"Citizens of the Coalition: this is an evacuation zone! Please stay within your designated area until accompanied by a firing squad. Message on Repeat. Citizens of the Coalition: this is an evacuation zone!"
"Bloody ****ing hell, someone turn off the ****ing guide. Before I blow my goddamn brains out."There was a slight cough, before the Gear finished his rant. "'Sides. The civvies are long dead. Ain't no one to evacuate anymore." he murmured.
Vulcan, as his squad had become to call him, mostly for his infamous love of the oversized machine gun, was perhaps the only Gear who found the monotone voice to be an annoyance to his ears. The hardy Islander, once just a lost soul out in the wasteland, was perhaps one of the most "charming" people of the COG. He was an older man, with grey tones shining throughout his loose ponytail at the back of his head and his short beard, and a few scars littered his tan skin. But other than the physical abuse, he was unscathed by battle. And even his personality was somewhat of a form of chipper pessimism. Strapped to his back in a form of a makeshift stranded armor, was a Boomshot, Boltok pistol, and an old, recently jammed Retro Lancer. All of which he had found before the COG had discovered him buried within a Locust tunnel. It turned out, much to Hoffman's shock and admiration, that Vulcan had chose to fight the Locust on his own terms. And with a small recommendation and a bit of sharing of information, he was thrown into the ranks in an instant.
It seemed that from day one he took no fear into consideration when on the field. Even now as he walked through the withered and abandoned mall with a sense of bravado that was unmatched by any other soldier. But for the others, the more sane Gears, the guided voice system that echoed throughout the scattered speakers was all that kept the past at bay. And it's ignorantly blissful voice seemed to be, if anything, a pleasant barrier between the imaginary world of the past and the harsh reality of their future. Like a gentle reminder a not so distant life-
In which was cut out by a single shot from Vulcan's Boltok pistol.
Harris was the one to speak next, "What the **** man, you're gonna give away our position, ****ing holster your gun-"
"Would you relax ye goddamn school girl. The crawlies ain't gonna come out. They haven't been near the place all month," he gave a strong handed pat on the back to the much smaller Gear, "don't be jumpy."
Martin Harris, more commonly known as Twitch, was what could easily be described as the opposite of Vulcan. Scrawnier than most Gears, Harris was a fairly lanky young man, and surprisingly handsome for a soldier of the apocalypse. His platinum blonde hair was swept to the side in a corporate cut, and his almond shaped hazel eyes often portrayed intense levels of concentration and fear. Unlike most, his life before E-Day was the epitome of luxury. According to command, he had a hefty sum of cash in a trust fund somewhere back home, as well as a high class manor, and a family business in stock trades. But despite the appearance and rich history, Harris himself was a man of few words. He didn't care about the past. Didn't care about the future either. The only prerogative he took from his existence was that he was alive. And that was that. So he'd fight to keep it that way.
It wasn't always enough for his comrades. Despite the majority of the COG’s Gears being unlucky bastards pulled off the streets, most didn't enjoy fighting beside a man with no real desire to live. And with his background lacking the patriotism of those who weren’t born of nobility, Harris made enemies naturally. But those who were willing to look past the precedent, as well as his sullen attitude, could find a man of subtle intellect and creativity.
Vulcan, being the man bothered by literally nothing, was one of those people. And because COG forces were stripped thin already, most didn’t object against their odd ragtag of a partnership. In fact, put Harris and Vulcan together, and you had a decent team of skills. A heavy weapons expert and a recon specialist. And occasionally, the two would get along long enough to form a decent squad.
That left Diana Reese. She was shorter than the bunch, although her muscle mass was hardly dainty. Her dirty red hair had been sliced away long ago, now forming a rough mass of a bob around her slightly scarred features. And her once striking blue-green of her eyes was now nothing more than a faded grey, as though the life had left them long before this war. But despite the pitiful appearance she reflected, Diana wasn’t quite so broken as the soldiers around her. Occasionally, a sarcastic smile or half ass smirk crossed her lips. And more often than not, she was an optimist compared to those around her. Her armor, against regulations, had a large strip of blue down the arm. And while many had decorated their dorm rooms with photos of the fallen, Reese had taken the liberty to hang photos of the living instead.
The generalist of the three. While not quite dedicated to the role of the soldier, she had learned to develop her skills into more hopeful approaches. Reese was proficient in the typical Lancer and Shotgun, with much of her outside training directed towards piloting the Birds. Added to Harris and Vulcan, and their once ragtag squad was now a full fledged unit. Command was almost excited by the prospect.
That didn’t, however, mean that their jobs had gotten any less shitty as the days went on. Someone still had to search the ruins of the cities for supplies, and Locust seemed to follow the COG’s every movement these days. Gone for weeks, then back the next. Recon the task for the expendable teams.
This particular event, however, was far beyond the scope of their mandate. A meteor hit the outskirts of Timgad just the night before, and the posted squad never returned. Naturally, Command’s first assumption was that locust had murdered anyone near the crater, but the local logs suggested otherwise. The team had camped within the abandoned mall beforehand, and their documentation of the events noted that not a single grub was in sight. Nor was there a single E-Hole in the facility. No blood. No soldiers.
Reese spoke up, ending the small feud in front of her, “This doesn’t make sense, there’s no indication of the meteor. Wrote about everything but that…”
Vulcan, giving one final slap to Harris’ shoulder, turned his head with a lazy expression, “Maybe they got crushed by it. Beats starvation.”
“Doubt it, they called it in to Command, and then said they left it be,” Diana let her eyes linger outside the window before turning back to the campsite, “and furthermore, where the hell did their supplies go? The rations are gone.”
Harris rolled his eyes meticulously, “Isn’t it obvious? Some stranded robbed them blind. ****ing assholes are everywhere these days,” he kicked at a mannequin on the floor, “this is a waste of time. There’s no one here anymore.”
There was a small scuttle from the back of the mall, and all weapons lifted to point.
“Oh there’s something.” Vulcan made a small tsk tsk as he made his way towards the back, “and I bet it’s a Grub. Hey you! Get out here, ya bastard!”
no.
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