GAMA: Redux [IC] Episode 1 "Bad Company"

[Monfrox]

United States of America
El Paso County, Colorado
GAMA North American Division
Former US Army base Fort Carson
Spring, 2047
0800 Hours

To say the years had been generous was a flat out lie. Between all the branches, the only real ones making much of a headway were the Asian Division troopers, and they had a lot on their plate as it was. Not to mention that most of the Valkyries being sent out had left the main operation in America rather scarce options for it's own Pilot Corps. Most pilots had never saw America again after leaving the Cheyenne Mountain Complex that had been converted into GAMA's main base of operations for the North American division, and its main training facility for Valkyrie pilots. For that reason, Fort Carson was also selected to be a new GAMA base. Luckily, the US Army units there were few and far between, and accepted the offer to join their ranks. Of course, that's how it always went. GAMA's play was always "Join with us now, and you will have your country back when we leave". But they had yet to make good on the last part, as their was much work to be done. For that reason, most of the divisions were autonomous with a weekly council meeting with the main division commanders, as well as subsequent meetings between division commanders and their respective base commanders.

Fort Carson was on the front line, all the time. Denver had seen a bad hit, but luckily the 10th SFG and 4th ID had been held back before so that when things had fallen apart, they were able to keep the base defended. Most of the defensive measures were adopted by the GAMA units there since most of the survivors were rotated out for some much needed and well-earned R&R before coming back. GAMA officers knew a good thing when they saw it, mainly because they were removed from a lot of the politics that usually went with high-tier military leadership. There wasn't time to bicker while the enemy shambled around outside the fence, testing to see how accurate the night guards on duty were. The answer was almost always "very". With that, Valkyrie training had been exceptionally hard to get pilots up to a Specialist level. Every Valkyire had training qualifications for advanced combat tactics inside and outside of their MACEs as well as long-term survival training to help ensure pilot survivability.

But after training and graduation was over, and their first deployment was under way, things got both easier and harder. The Sun was rising on Fort Carson as most Specialized Kill Team members were doing their morning PT laps with some of the Training Instructors that had been brought out from the Cheyenne facility. Each of the pilots were issued a mission tablet in which everything came through that they needed to know. Training openings, mess hall menus, and most importantly: mission briefing times. Valkyries were allowed to do most anything they wanted on their own so long as it did not damage GAMA property or personnel. Sometimes, that last part of the rule had to be repeated.

From the base commander's office, a woman sat at a desk in her gray service uniform, which was a fancy inbetween of dress and battle dress. She tick-tacked away on a keyboard of a laptop for minutes on end, pausing only to take a sip of coffee before she was done.

"Annnnddd....there we have it. Data collected from the recon teams shows promise, so hopefully we can get some breathing room for this next operation. Lieutenant?"

"Yes Miss Christensen?"

"Send out the notice. Mission briefing at 1000 hours."

"Yes ma'am. At once."

Her Executive Officer turned around and went to work on her own tablet, which was a higher-end model for more administrative purposes. She sent out the briefing notice to all the Valkyrie tablets as she walked to the intelligence sector to get all the necessary intel on their new op ready for them.

[United Kingdom of Poland]

Nadya Yakovlev smiled as she read the notice on her tablet after stepping out of the shower. Quickly getting dressed in a pair of olive green cargo pants, grey under armor t-shirt, and combat boots, she began making her way to the armory with a noticeable spring in her step. Finally, another mission after being cooped up in this base for far too long. She had started getting bored here, missing her time in Toylatti where she would be out patrolling for weeks at a time.

Maybe command had finally gotten their head out of their ass and seen fit to let me off the leash. She thought to herself. Lord knows it would do some good having an operative like me roaming around the Judgment’s Grace’s supply lines and rear areas. I’d do a lot more good there than sitting on my ass for days on end. Greeting the sergeant who ran the armory and collecting a case that held her ASM Val suppressed assault rifle, she began disassembling the weapon for a complete inspection.

“Ma’am.” Just as she was reassembling her personal weapon the head of the Armory called out to her. “Mind if corporal Stevens gets a look at your weapon.” Nadya nodded, pushing her seat aside to let the corporal in close. “Modernized ASM Val assault rifle with integrated suppressor, didn’t think I’d ever see a piece of kit like this before. I assume you run a four power ACOG sight on it…” As the corporal went to touch the receiver, Nadya’s hand shot out to grab his.

“I said you could look Corporal.” She replied coldly. “Not touch.” Letting go of the mans hand, she finished reassembling her rifle and put it back in the case. “The bolt carriers going to need replacing within the next month.” She told the head armorer as she handed him the case. “Can I still count on a replacement?”

“Yes ma’am.” The man replied.

“I’ll be back to sight it our briefing.” She glanced back over to the corporal. “Make sure no one touches it.” Running by the mess hall to grab a quick bite to eat, Nadya was still the first Valkyrie in the briefing room.

[Hanafuridake]

The alarm clock buzzed and Mako opened her eyes, reaching her hand out instinctively and pressing the off button. She sat up and looked around in a dreamlike daze, wishing that she could wake up one day and this would all be revealed to be a dream. On her shelf was a lone book in Japanese『万葉集』which looked as though it were about to fall apart from years of wear and tear. Yawning mildly, Mako opened the book and read the poems which she had wanted to finish yesterday but felt too tired to.

Time started to fly and soon she had to set the book aside when a notice from the tablet informed her she had two hours before briefing time. That was more than enough time, but Mako liked to be prepared in case of unexpected events. It left a good impression on commanding officers too, which was equally important in her mind. She quickly prepared her uniform and took a shower, though there was little need to. Kamo no Mako had a reputation for probably being the cleanest person in the division, perhaps obsessively so.

When she entered the mess hall, she could see Yakovlev, but made no attempt to be noticed by her. Interacting with the fellow pilots outside of military operations was not something she was keen on doing. She ate as far away from anyone else as she could, her eating being quick and rushed rather than enjoying the flavor. American food is awful, she grimaced to herself. If the living dead didn't kill her, Yankee food would.

After finishing, she walked to the briefing room, disappointed to see that the Yakovlev girl had been earlier to arrive than she was. She would need to be much quicker in the future, Mako promised herself.

[Wolfenium]

"Morning, Mako," a cheery voice ringed in her hear, as a pair of hands curled around the Japanese girl's waist.

Giving the girl a surprise glomp was a ditzy redhead, her hair ribbon standing up like a pair of bunny ears as she greeted the quiet colleague. In many ways, she was Mako's complete opposite. A cheerful and confident personality, incredibly active and fit, but academically inept, the Persian American's path to becoming a Valkyrie was far rougher than her personality showed. And yet, her abysmal technical and academic results never seemed to dent her confidence, and it took some help from her sister to grind a pass to get in. Since, her daily routine almost consisted entirely of PT, sharpshooting, and tinkering with her M27 IAR and 'Doug' MACE. As for her piloting skills, there appeared to be nothing problematic as of yet, though anything regarding her tactical skill still left much to be desired.

"Another combat mission, me see," she chimed at the briefing, "I almost feel like sleeping again. The air con is so cooling~... Where'd you think we'll be hitting next? Tucson? Phoenix? Ooh, maybe we're going over the borer again!"

Of course, personalities were not the only thing that set her apart from Mako...

[Vanquaria]

Scott Hood

---

The carpet had begun to feel like a blanket of nails, fire searing through his tendons every time his muscles contracted against the solid surface. Every rep mattered for Scott but nearing the end was torturous. His form was slackening as a result but he persevered with his teeth grit and his brows furrowed, visibly straining himself.

"1-100! WHEW!"

Collapsing onto the floor, the Australian teen remained sprawled there for a while. The morning had just begun but his half-naked body was already gleaming with perspiration. Panting loudly, he eventually forced himself up and put on a T-shirt, blue-colored with an image of the Opera House at its front. Still covered in sweat, Scott headed out for his 10k run.

When he came back, he hit the showers immediately. As he did so, a notification popped up on his tablet though he did not notice it. Scott indulged himself under the water for a while and by the time he came out, there was only an hour left until the scheduled briefing. However, 60 minutes was more than enough time for Scott and he took it in his stride, leaving his room again, this time in fresh military fatigues, for the mess hall.

Hunger often affects one's tastebuds. That was the case for Scott as he downed his meal, deliberately savoring it. It was the replenishment he needed for his 6-foot body, the carbs refueling what he had lost in his morning exercise routine. Returning his plate when he was done, Scott strode to the briefing room and saw that others had made it before him.

He gave a satirical salute to his foreign comrades as he seated himself at the front, "G'day, ladies. Enjoy the chow?"

[Castelia]

Michael Corvin| Fort Carson, El Paso County, Colorado

A smile grew on Michael's face as he saw his fellow Valkyries assemble in the briefing room. He wasn't surprised, considering he took his time going there after all. He had been up early that morning, waking up at 0500 in order to perform his morning routine. After waking, he had jogged from 0515 to 0700 hours, after which he had made his way back to his quarters for some rest and later a shower.

At 0745 hours, he proceeded to the mess hall in order to have some breakfast. 15 minutes later, he received the update ordering him to proceed to the briefing room. Despite finishing his breakfast at 0830, he didn't feel the need to proceed directly to the meeting room as he still wasn't dressed appropriately. As such, he retreated back to his room and changed his clothes to standard military fatigues.

Finally, he made his way to the briefing room, where he saw 4 others that had assembled before him. At this point, Michael decided to make his presence known with a standard greeting.

"Good morning, everyone. Glad to see we're all in good shape today."

[Sudbrazil]

Edward Gallagher Smith
Fort Carson, El Paso county ~ 0805 hours, 2047

---

Eʟ Pᴀsᴏ ᴡᴀs ʜᴏᴛ, a lot hotter than Alaska, or even Cheyenne Mountain’s air conditioned interior, but Gallagher was sure that his body would accustom itself to the new thermobaric conditions. He had heard of soldiers sent off to far away lands like Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, boiling under the sun in the never-ending deserts and mountains thousands of miles away from home...
Gallagher reprimanded himself, noting that he was once again drfiting off. This shouldn't happen, especially when inspecting his service weapon. It was an old thing with a 20 inch barrel to maximize the buildup of gases and pressure before the round left the barrel, guaranteeing higher muzzle velocities and proper fonctionnent of the gas impingement system. The old plastic stock and aftermarket triangular handguard were ergonomic, and fit his larger than average hands well. Granted, it was at least two or three generations behind the standard, but the soldiers on the front lines were the priority for new rifles, and frankly he did not mind. One or two rounds of 5.56×45 flung at over 900 meters per second caused substantial tissue damage to armoured and unarmored targets alike, which would almost certainly cause incapacitation or death. Furthermore, the magazines carried 30 brass cartridges, spare parts were plentiful and the aluminium and polymer weapon was extremely light. Satisfied with his inspection, Gallagher pressed the pins in place and attached the fabric sling, placing the M16 next to his survival pack which he had loaded with a few magazines an be his sidearm earlier that day.
While in the process of adjusting his uniform and polishing his shoes, the touchtronic device permanently residing on his desk emitted a faint attempt at catching his attention. A summons, perhaps? Gallagher thought, after all, there were not many people sending messages these days. A quick glance at the screen confirmed his suspicions, yet he was relieved that the briefing.would be held later, meaning he would have time to go check on his MACE as well as his comrades in arms.
His passage through the mess hall was rather swift for his liking. Generally, his colleagues would be more chatty — with the notable experience of Mako, the shy — but this time the Iranian operative’s antics failed to spark any long-lasting conversation, nor did the generally jolly Australian manage to engage in good banter. At least it gave him some time to appreciate the food, not that industrial cuisine was the finest out there.

✶

At precisely 1000 hours rang on the small wristwatch, Smith presented himself at the briefing room. While a quick deployment was unlikely to be necessary, the Alaskan had already prepared himself for such an eventuality as he showed by the holster hanging from his belt and the pilot's vest which covered his upper body. He saluted the officer there present, before sitting himself at the front row.

[Xing]

"You know we have another hour and a half right?" A monotonous young male droned out over the bustle of two individuals running at the end of the tarmac.

"Yeah, but the sooner we get there the less chance we have of missing anything important." A second, more noticeably cheery, boy responded.

"What could we possibly miss an hour and a half before the briefing is scheduled for?" The question coming off with an extremely dry sarcasm.

"You never know Jack, maybe they'll start it early."

"An hour and a half early." The monotonous boy's tone becoming even drier. "They're gonna start the briefing an hour and a half early. Barely a half an hour after sending out the notice that there even was one."

"Then stay out here." The cheerier boy chuckled, turning around to his companion. He continued to skip backward to keep himself moving toward the base itself.

Jack stopped for a moment, watching his friend continue to trot away. He could tell Leon didn't actually think that the briefing could have started already. He had known him long enough to know Leon was just eager to ship out again. Jack rolled his eyes as he took off again, trailing behind Leon as they entered the base. With the jog back to base finishing off their morning run, Leon and Jack had already gone through most of their morning routine. All that was left was breakfast in the mess hall before Leon could pull Jack to the briefing without any sort of excuses. They each grabbed a tray and jumped in line, not even halfway down the line Leon began to haggle for an extra serving of bacon.

"Come on, I'm a growing boy." He whined insincerely.

"You grow anymore and you're gonna burst through the roof." The individual behind the counter responded.

"With ceilings like these?" Jack flatly asked. He looked up to the raised ceilings of the dining facility. "For all of our sakes, let's hope not."

With Jack's momentary distraction of the mess worker, Leon slowly reached for a strip of bacon from the top of the stack. The worker, having noticed this, rapped him on the knuckles with their tongs, tossed an extra strip on his tray, and pointed his tongs over Leon's shoulder.

"Get." They hissed. Leon snapped off an unofficial salute at the individual before scurrying off towards a table. Jack took his place in the line and was met with an awkward silence from the mess worker. "... You want your serving, you get it from him." They finally said motioning to Leon. Jack raised an eyebrow at the individual before giving him a nod and heading off to sit with Leon.

[Rupudska]

GAMANAD
Fort Carson
Spring 2047
Focus: Casey Briggs

Casey was up almost as soon as she was able, waking herself up with a bit of black coffee and a steady jog around the area that she and the other Valkyrie pilots were permitted. One even 10K later, she was fully warmed up for the rest of her morning exercises - admittedly, these were mostly just stretches and simple body-weight exercises - sit-ups, pull-ups, push-ups, the like. Then came the shower and the actual preparing for the day, such as putting on things besides a sports bra and boyshorts - she never wore shoes when exercising unless the heat forced her to, or she was ordered.

One scalding hot shower later - never underestimate the psychological value of hot water, even if Casey tended to use a little too much hot and a little too much water and she was ready for the next step - a little makeup here, a bit of tooth brushing there, mouth rinse, other crap she had to put up with, military fatigues, and off to the mess hall she went.

Mess hall was the usual fare for her - potato pancakes and meat, or the closest thing to it, enjoyed slowly while reviewing the news of the day, including info on a briefing that nearly made her drop a spoonful of yogurt in surprise.

Nonetheless, she finished with more than enough time to reach the briefing room by 1000 hours, at which point she slouched into whatever seat was available and reasonably near the front.

[Kassaran]

A Company, Always On the Run

There was a hill in this expanse of scrub, and dirt, and sand. Time hung thick in the absence of the breeze which had for a moment ceased in its serpentine motions across the land. In the air there hung a silence and it clung to the grass as a muted whisper, a conversation interrupted by the figure now standing atop the rise. There was a man in this expanse of still, quiet, motionless air. Sweat beaded along his brow and dripped along a defined cheekbone. The plain black shirt clung to the gently heaving chest, two lungs filling and emptying themselves with the long rushes of breath, drawn between the parted lips of one Victor Mendoza, GAMA Valkyrie.

Staring behind himself, there was a look of pained recognition as the eyes hardened in the light of the rising sun. Familiar shapes, colors, movements, revealed the waking of the base and it's rise to activity in the bustle of the morning. Deciding he wouldn't linger longer than this, he blinked once, then twice and turned to run the remainder of his morning circuit around the base. So it was, that there was a hill in this expanse of paths, buildings, and asphalt. Time rocketed forward as the current of a fast-flowing stream which wound it's way through white-water rapids. Noise carried upon the breeze brought the sounds of distant turbines and horns blowing and in it all there came an interruption by the absence of four figures that once had stood upon this hill.


United States of America
El Paso County, Colorado
GAMA North American Division
Former US Army base Fort Carson
Spring, 2047
0802 Hours
Valkyrie Victor 'Ares' Mendoza

As he made his way through the densely packed buildings of the Valkyrie residential quarters, his hands ran through the sweaty clumps of hair, tearing through tangles with familiar pricks of pain which forced the 26 year old to wince. Thick hair was a bastard for his running, and he would have gone to get it cut over the previous weekend, but a memory had haunted his dreams and brought his legs to the hill upon which he'd stood this morning. As he entered his sparsely decorated, yet well-furnished room he looked around. For the end of the world, a desk, a bed, his own bathroom, and the closet which held his clothes was the highest standard he'd set. An old picture sat on the sill of the window in the corner of the room, a glint of morning sunshine reflecting off of the glass and shining in a brilliant beam past Victor's face.

He held up his hand, more out of ritual than discomfort, and passed through the warming flash of golden air as he entered his bathroom. It held his own sink, toilet, and most importantly right now a shower which he promptly stepped into. Pressing his palm onto the shower's activation panel, he felt his gut drop and his body tense beneath the wash of cold that covered his body in an instant. Peeling off his thoroughly soaked clothes, he laid them with little care over the top of the door-frame, letting the droplets of cold water rinse away beads of sweat. The morning ritual he'd come to enjoy in garrison, soon ended and he reentered his room, finding that upon the desk his tablet demanded his attention.

Walking slowly over to the desk, he draped his towel across his shoulders, a hand pressing the fabric against his head as his eyes dropped to regard the icon of the new message. Command had sent it, or more likely a certain aide attached to her. His eyes narrowed as he let the towel drop and picked up the tablet. Thumbing through the message, he let his lips press into a narrow line, setting the tablet back down onto the table before turning and entering his closet to dress. There was to be a briefing at 1000 Hours, and he was expected to be there.

A short while later, the man stood in line, his uniform clean as his body and his morning grooming done to the standard beyond he errant locks of brown hair which hung down over his face. That'd be a scolding from the commander for sure, but his mind didn't dwell on the thought as he received the morning meal rations and moved through the dining facility. Eyes eventually settling down on a pair of familiar faces that now were sitting at a table nearby. Walking up, the older man looked down towards first Leon, and then Jack, giving both a friendly smile before pointing with a downward index finger at the table," Got room for one more?"

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

GAMA North American Division
Spring, 2047
Sayaya Sakamoto

Sayaya woke up in her room. She pondered on her current situation. She's now a Valkyrie herself, part of the GAMA. With her own mech, and with a bunch of comrades. Plenty of comrades, and soon, enemies to be slaughtered. Close combat, eyes to eyes and tooth to tooth. She moved to the shower room, where she took a nice moment of shower, before moving ahead to the mess hall. The American foods are a welcome sight, not necessarily the best, but still took her quite nice.

After the mess hall's eating (thought she noticed some who still in the hall, but she didn't quite enjoy eating and talking at the similar moment), she walked to the briefing room. At 1000, there are already other Valkyries. She saluted the officer, before taking the middle seat.

[Xing]

Leon and Jack looked up from their meals at their fellow pilot and then to each other, quickly confirming with each other of the situation. Leon curiously raised an eyebrow to Jack, to which he simply responded with a subtle shrug and a nod. Leon looked back to Victor while Jack returned his attention to his food.

"Yeah, plenty of room for a fellow pilot." Leon responded gesturing to the open seat at the table. In between bites of food, Jack looked over to Leon and Victor to show that his silence didn't show a disinterest in the conversation. "So I trust you're just as eager to hear what this briefing is going to be about later today?"

The prospect of a conversation with a fellow pilot momentarily distracted Leon from his previous intensity for quickly getting to the briefing. If they weren't the only two that hadn't arrived, there was a better chance that things hadn't already begun. He reached for his drink, and raised it to his lips, still generally looking in Victor's direction. Meanwhile, with Leon's attention diverted elsewhere, Jack's gaze slowly drifted down toward's Leon's plate. That extra strip of bacon he had received still sat in the corner of his tray, nestled perfectly in the closest corner to him. Jack carefully inched his fork closer toward's his fellow pilot's tray, attempting to slide in just below the boy's arm and line of sight to claim his well deserved prize.

[Kassaran]

As Leon talked, Jack watched. It was a familiar old pattern to Victor, but one that he enjoyed seeing unfold in person. Nodding as he tucked into his tray of rations, he took a few attempts at chewing what had been some of the oatmeal on the tray before washing it down with the coffee he'd procured. Noting a bit of sidelong ambition coming from Jack, Victor only let the ghost of a boyish smile cross his face as he endeavored to become a co-conspirator and spoke," Well, given that I've some time to show still and that Christie isn't going to let a word slip outside, I'm quite curious. Got any guesses for me, or better?"

A hand moved up towards Victor's face, propping it up as he let his fork bring another spoonful of mush towards his mouth. An overall fruitless endeavor, but one he intended to make an attempt at before acknowledging his mistake by action. The faces of the two younger Valkyries before him were familiar in their intensity and expressions. He'd once known faces like theirs, ambitious and full of wanderlust, humor, and happiness. There was a brief, almost fleeting thought that skirted his peripheral vision, his eyes catching the hint of a familiar old face in the many faces around him. His mind only needed to pause for a moment in the act of searching to remember the fruitlessness of the action, and his view slid back towards the two boys before him.

[Sraelyn]

Alexandre Durant
Fort Carlon
GAMA North American Division

Alexandre threw two jabs followed by a left hook, all of them blocked, before he moved to his right and away from his opponent. The other guy’s guard was good, better than his actually. He managed to hit a couple of times sure, but received quite a few more. Alexandre used the brief respite to move his forearm across his face, removing some of the sweat that bathed him and the blood running from his nose. “Fils de pute” he muttered. His breathing was getting faster and his arms heavy, while blood pulsed through his veins. He was quite enjoying this, thrilled actually. He loved a good fight, but this looked like one that would end shortly, one way or another. His adversary had better form overall, and slowly but surely he was being bested by the man that was now moving closer to finish this. He blocked a series of jabs and an uppercut, yet he felt every punch pounding across his whole body, as his guard grew weaker. It would be now or never, and he would give it his all. He surged forward and jabbed at his enemy’s guard before throwing a swing at his jaw, missing by an inch and leaving him open for a counterattack. His opponent didn’t doubt and swung back at him. Bingo, he was ready for it. Alexandre moved his head backwards, barely avoiding it, before pressing hard on his right leg and throwing and downwards cross to his face, connecting with the jaw and staggering him long enough to launch forwards with a knee to their left side, sending the man to the ground.

“Yeah, stay down.” He let down a muffled grunt in celebration as the soldier clutched his abdomen. Another spar won. A fellow soldier rushed to help Martinez up and ushered him out of the ring. They probably wouldn’t spar again, which was somewhat of a pity since Alexandre was running out of people to spar with, but that was mostly his fault. He wasn’t the cleanest of fighters, and his tendency to go over the top while sparring didn’t garner him many friends from the soldiers at the base. Yet he didn’t care for it, he had won, and that’s all that mattered.

Sparing has become somewhat of a morning routine for him. After walking up he would go for a run and hit the gym after that, ready to train and fight whoever was still willing to. In his mind it was the best way to start a day. By 900 hours he had already left the gym, bruised and sweaty yet pleased. He had an hour left to shower, dress, get some breakfast and haul himself to the briefing room. Once he was clean he dressed in fatigues and a white shirt, although leaving his jacket unbuttoned. He had somewhat of a disheveled look, which certain people didn’t particularly approve of, but he cared little for it. Once ready he headed to the cafeteria for some toast and a cup of coffee, rushing through breakfast as he did most mornings. The food was dreadful, Yanks couldn’t brew a proper cup even if their life depended on it, yet he drank it nonetheless as it still managed to somewhat do it’s job.

He arrived at the briefing room with a few minutes to spare, punctuality wasn’t his forte but he made the effort to arrive on time this time, finding most other pilots already there. “Morning” he said as he slouched on a chair at the back of the room. “You think we are finally going on a mission?”

[Xing]

The excitement and intensity in Jack's expression grew as his little infiltration mission grew closer to completion. He had already made it to Leon's tray unnoticed up until this point, all he needed to do was extract his prize and sneak back out. Meanwhile Leon continued to pick away at his food while still conversing with his fellow pilot.

"Sadly I don't." Leon replied. "I'm just as lost as you are. I hope it's something interesting though. Clearing out small towns is important, but it's not nearly as exciting as the bigger cities or combating someone like the SoC."

Leon followed up his response with a swift jab with his fork into one of the remaining strips of bacon on his tray, his fork coming within centimeters of impaling Jack's hand. Jack's eyes shot wide open in horror at the close call, and swiftly pinched the remaining strip of bacon and pulled his arm back to his own tray.

"What about you Jack? Any ideas?" Leon asked, still unaware of the theft that occurred. Jack's face quickly returned to it's usual flat expression, betraying the sense of satisfaction felt within.

"Probably just more of the same stuff we usually do. We're sent somewhere, we clean it out, we go home. I just hope it's somewhere scenic." Jack finished his statement by taking a bite of his stolen food with a look of subdued pride on his face.

[Kassaran]

There was only a single reaction that Victor could give as he watched the fork flick out across the plate and spear a strip of meat within an inch of Jack's hand, his eyebrow raised by about half a centimeter and then returned to it's usual resting place. His eyes followed Leon's gaze as the man appraised Jack's natural stealthiness. He hadn't known the boys for too long, but he smiled warmly at the secret mission he'd seen carried out under great peril to Jack's well-being. As Leon and Jack spoke, Victor took the chance to grab his spoon and begin wolfing down more of his food with ravenous delight and seasoned practice.

As he managed to finish swallowing down the last of the oatmeal on his tray, he noted the conversation had hit a slight stopping point. The look of masked smugness that flickered across Jack's face as he bit into the strip of bacon was reflected similarly in the lopsided grin which crossed the older soldier's face as he spoke up to fill the emptiness of the moment," Scenery is always good, but I'm partial to good ole-fashion scraps and fights by now- makes for enjoying rest and relaxation all the more."

He lifted a fork to his mouth, shoveling in some of the eggs which had been placed upon his plate, before giving a smile," They always say the best tasting food is that which you've worked the hardest for, or perhaps it was bread only tastes sweeter when stolen? Never really was big on those proverbs."

He managed to fit the last of his eggs on his tray onto his spoon and chewed once, twice, three times and swallowed. Grabbing his water glass, he killed off the rest of the meal he'd brought to the table sans his strip of bacon, which he picked up and casually tore in half before tossing each piece lightly onto each of the boy's trays. Turning to go, he gave a casual wave to both of the younger Valkyries," Enjoy the rest of your breakfast guys, I'll see you at the brief."

It was only a handful of minutes later when the older man walked in, looked around, and chose his usual seat front and center in the room. He didn't mind being the center of attention, and it let him see everything more clearly anyways. Producing from his fatigues an old notebook and a pencil with which to write in it, he sat back in his seat and gave a sweeping look around the room. Perhaps it was simply his vision playing tricks on him, but he could almost have sworn he saw an old familiar pair of blue-grey eyes, before losing the image altogether and looking back towards the front of the room, waiting for the brief to begin.

[United Kingdom of Poland]

Nadya grumbled as Yasmine rambled on about their possible mission. She didn't hold the Iranian-American in very high regard, seeing her as yet another airhead who wouldn't last very long in this line of work. "We should be heading in the opposite direction. Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho are where the heart of Judgments Grace lay. Attacking targets there would cripple there operations and allow us to cut the head off the snake."

As she was busy berating her older counterpart, several more of her squadmates had joined them, Alexandre even asking a question. "We'd better be." Nadya replied. "I've spent too long sitting on my ass here doing nothing."

[Xing]

Victor's faux proverb, an obvious jest at Jack, caused the boy to momentarily pause his eating. He stared Victor down for a moment, waiting for any sort of response to Leon. Leon's only response was a puzzled look at the unfamiliarity of the older pilot's proverb. Jack silently returned to his food not wanting to draw the inquisitive glance of Leon. They both took a silent bite of their food as Victor finished off his meal and bid them farewell. Jack looked up to the man as the half strip of bacon hit his tray, his head still directed towards his tray. He only responded with a sly grin as the man turned to leave. Leon on the other hand only waved as he continued to work on his meal.

The boys ate in relative silence as they rushed to finish their meals. All of the other Valkyries they had seen either didn't stay or had already left so they knew that they must be some of the last people to head off for the briefing. They both finished near simultaneously and both dropped their trays off before heading out of the mess hall towards the briefing room.

"I couldn't agree more Nadya." Leon chirped as he entered the briefing room, only hearing the last part of her response. "It's not like the world's gonna clean itself up."

Leon engaging with the room left Jack the opportunity he needed to slip past and silently take his seat off to the side of the room.

[Towers]

8030 hours.
20 miles NE of Fort Carson

The harsh light of the morning sun poured through the windows of the Osprey cooking the two women sitting opposite one another and making for a thoroughly unpleasant flight. One was well built, blond, in her late-twenties wearing a uniform that was obviously new down to the colourful GAMA NA patch on the arm. The other was older, a brunette and wearing the civilian attire of a fine dark-blue suit with a white blouse and had a little pass clipped to her hips. Both had pensive frowns and had been silent since talk off several hours ago, licking her lips and flexing her jaw as if to limber up for an act of great effort the blond braced for and finally broke the silence

“Now there’s no one who might know me here is there ma’am?” Speaking more harshly than was really needed though the microphone on her headset.
“If you’re referring to your two compatriots, they’re not pilots anymore, they did the sensible thing and retired.”
“Oh well good for them I suppose but shameful as well, we were made better than that Miss Fairley.” Noting the deepening of her opposite’s frown she quickly summoned a look of contrition and apologised “Sorry I shouldn’t speak to a senior like that.”
“I’m your caretaker, not your commanding officer Amanda and I think you should have done the same. Someone in your situation is rarely given an opportunity like that and I’d do my best for you if you ever wanted to quit before this next tour is up. Speaking of your CO, I should tell you that she’s fully appraised of your situation.”
“I still can’t just be left to do a job? I’ve done everything you’ve asked and more.”
“And we very much appreciate that Amanda but we’re not changing policy just because you’re the model of civility now that you’ve re-entered civilisation.”

That killed conversation entirely till they landed a short time later and exchanged a final set of awkward goodbyes. Miss Fairley checked Amanda knew all the numbers she’d ever need and had them in writing (she had memorised them over a week ago but it made Miss Fairley happy). There was a small number of signatures required from the caretaker to finalise the transfer which she had taken as a bad excuse to come all this way. They made a valiant attempt at a hug and then were out of reasons to hang about. Amanda turned about and Miss Fairley went back to the Osprey.

The dust kicked up behind her as the last trace of debriefing flew off leaving her alone but for the escort. Their names were Private Fletcher and Simmons and they showed her the way to her sleeping quarters; gave a good account of procedures, timetables and regulations while keeping a respectful (and regulation) 1.5m distance at all times. They were polite, professional and happy to leave as soon as their duties were complete, which took about twenty minutes when all was said and done. Sitting alone atop the bunk and wondering if she’d be sharing with anyone (it certainly looked occupied) Amanda swung her legs and checked the time on the new watch she’d been issued yesterday. It was a nice thing, durable and with a clear digital display. Playing with the buttons she found it had a date function and paused upon seeing it. “Happy birthday to me.” She mumbled dryly to no one before tossing her bag to the end of the bed to be fully unpacked later.
The soft sound of the morning alarm on the watch went off just then, not that she needed the reminder after over a decade but it was comforting in a way. Heading to the sink at the end of the room Amanda popped open the plastic container on her waist and mechanically counted out the two tablets and one capsule she took at this time in the morning. She retrieved a canteen from her bag and filled it from the sink tap to help take the medication. The tap water wasn’t great, nothing like home but it was certainly better than trying to swallow them dry.

After that noting the time had reached 0926 she made quick time to this briefing room the Privates had expressed she’d be expected at. It was early but that was fine she’d still have to find it and being prompt might make a good first impression. It turned out to not be far or well-hidden and she sat down in the second-to-front of empty chairs out of habit. Fixing her posture and uniform Amanda Kerr waited motionless and in silence, as was expected and proper, and tried to ignore how uncomfortable the new uniform felt.

[Forest State]

---

Alyxandra Jane Gray

---

By now, the routines of being with GAMA were practically ingrained into the mind of Alyxandra Jane Gray. At the same time, however, Alyx almost felt like she was… Getting too into these routines. She wanted to stand out. Only reason she had ever pushed herself after being handed off to GAMA, something she hadn’t been crazy about when her brother first told her where she would be going, was because she wanted to stand out. It wasn’t like anyone was going to give her what she wanted if she didn’t and blended into the crowd like she had earlier in her life, when that had helped her to survive.

And what she wanted was the spotlight, attention on herself, the respect of those around her. Admiration, community, and all that. Things she hadn’t had for quite some time when all she had was her brother and now she didn’t even have that closeness anymore, after heading to somewhere safer. Well, it would be crazy to say that GAMA was safe. There was a decent chance of dying in this line of work but Asher had considered the odds of living a good life here being better than the odds of the same thing happening alone. He’d been the one to encourage her to go along with GAMA and join after the pair of them reached Colorado from Wyoming, and it was too late to turn back.

As Alyx wiped herself down with a towel following the end of her physical training, she was thinking about how they were getting into the real meat of what they were here to do. There was physical training but it wasn’t just that. They had a mission briefing coming up, but her mind was less on what the briefing was going to be about and more on the fact that they were having it in the first place. It was good to her. In this routine life, where they had things such as physical training and training as pilots… She couldn’t help find it hard to stand out.

Maybe, when she was in that cockpit of the Bae Systems M-22 ‘Imp’ that she piloted, she would have her chance to separate herself from the crowd. To get what she was looking for.

On the other hand, she considered the idea that maybe she should focus more on putting herself out there and less about running these scenarios through her head. She hadn’t talked to anyone yet because she had been lost in her own thoughts all morning so far, but with the briefing coming up, she wasn’t going to have a choice but to pull herself out of it and pay attention.

If she wanted to be the best that had climbed into the cockpit, if she wanted to separate herself, she would have to do the job that was asked of her and that started in the briefing room.

She was extremely competitive, she was maybe slightly arrogant too, but just because she wanted to be the best didn’t mean she was a stupid hothead that wouldn’t pay attention to anything and would try to steal the spotlight once they were in the field. While she did have a penchant for flashy things, just being effective and specifically being more effective than the others in the same unit was one way of putting herself on top. If they took this casually, she’d have the edge over them when the time came to use the info they’d been briefed about.

But enough about that. Let’s get down to business.

On that note, Alyx walked into the room and sat down, leaning against the wall by the doorway before announcing her presence. “So… Who do you guys think is going to have the highest kill count in whatever this briefing is actually for?” she asked. It was a calculated question. She wasn’t just asking for fun, she wanted to see where she came up in that discussion and where the other were placed.

[Kassaran]

Victor hadn't been expecting to be showing up late to the room by walking in almost twenty minutes early, but as several of the seats in the room were already taken, he now decided to let his head survey the other Valkyries present. The usual tell for Valkyrie pilots was their age when they were of the newest generations, for him there weren't any from the original Valkyrie program he could ever remember running into. Hell, he'd only seen a Gen 2 Valkyrie maybe twice before. He was willing to bet he'd be the oldest one present given the relatively younger ages of most other Valkyries now in service. They almost all seemed to be teenagers, kids by all measures except perhaps their personality. In the front row he could see a dark haired young man sitting to his right, and to his left were another two empty chairs.

As his gaze wandered to the next row behind him, he cast a look over his left shoulder, finding it easier to do so in an extension of his searching gaze already. In a seat occupied about as far to the left side as the briefing room allowed, there sat a young girl, probably in her late teenage years, tanned skin and off-color hair reminding him of some girls he'd seen in Cuba years ago. It was an interesting look, but as his gaze shifted more towards who sat behind him, he found himself staring at a pair of blue-gray eyes. Her hair was blonde and her face betrayed a presence of mind and wit carved by years of fighting. She was probably his age, if not older, but he quickly pushed the thought out of his head as only Gen 2's were older than him by his best knowledge and they'd all retired from combat operations by now.

His head turned away from the eerily familiar woman behind him, to regard those who sat on his right in the rows behind. As he'd expected, there was no one, but in the third row, things had begun to fill up. The familiar face of one of the boy Valkyries he'd had breakfast with, was sat in a chair at the far right edge of the third row of chairs. Every other chair currently sat empty, and as his gaze wandered back to the fourth and final row of chairs, he noticed why. Standing at the back of the room were about four or five of the teenage Valkyries standing and talking. Entirely reasonable given their age and the time left until the briefing began. He smiled as a memory of four like them beneath a tree not far from the room began to creep into his mind again. His smile faltered and he let it fall away like sand through spread fingers. He didn't need to think on those thoughts, not after the last time.

While one or two of the seats in the back row had been taken, there was an increasingly growing number of Valkyries building up. He couldn't help but take up a smile again, watching each of the Valkyries react to one another and the introduction of new comers in the same vein. It was only as he noted an older girl take up a position, leaning up against a wall as she sat down on the ground, that he let the smile finally fade from his face and slip upside down into a frown. She was a familiar face only in passing to the older Valkyrie, but her question betrayed her young ambitions.

Turning his face back towards the front of the room, he let his attentions fall back to the old paper notepad on his thigh. He could remember hearing voices much like hers, competing for the notoriety of most lethal, of the best pumpkin smasher all around. His eyes dropped to the errant circle he'd been pressing into the page with the lead of his mechanical pencil. He let his eyebrows slide down over his forehead to rest just above his own dark brown eyes as he let the frown settle into place. Who was the woman who sat behind him, why did she have those eyes? Why now of all days was her face bringing back those memories? He pressed the end of the pencil into the paper with a firmer grip and focused on darkening the circle, distracting himself from the nagging feelings which lay at the edge of his conscious mind.

[Towers]

The question wafted throughout the briefing room unchallenged but unanswered like a particularly vile scented candle everyone was feeling too polite to put out. Amanda didn’t really understand it and wondered if this was just part of the Valkyrie culture at Fort Carlson, to joke about with bravado and one-upmanship. It reminded her a lot of here brief time with another team early in development who butted heads in order to keep each other sharp and working hard. The lack of an equivalent response from the assembled unit however seemed to put paid to that notion. It was then, fuelled by an overwhelming feeling of concern for the girl that Amanda rose out of her seat, took a deep breath and prepared to go make a terrible impression.

She paced stiffly to the back of the room and into the final row of chairs from the challenger not even noticing the dark-haired boy trying badly to not stare. Finding a one directly opposite the teenager Amada gripped the back of the chair like a pulpit and fittingly began her sermon. The girl had a familiar hungry look in her eyes, the look of someone who got put on the wall after three operations and had been told something about their ‘potential’ in a vulnerable moment.

“Good morning, my name is Kerr, Amanda a pleasure to meet you, please stop. Killcount is by far one of the most harmful metrics ever employed by the GAMA Statistics Office and for all the stock put into it’s very deceptive. It erases so many contributions and chasing it dangerously hampers unit cohesion. I have seen this in motion and have no wish to see it again.

We’ll be looking after each other for a while and I sincerely hope that I and everyone else will be able to depend on one another to perform our functions. Have no fear for I will not judge you on how many heads you take, I’ll just judge you on everything that matters.

Don’t count kills, count assists. Don’t count kills, count cockpit time. Don’t count kills, count saves and above all don’t chase kills if it does not serve the mission or your fellows.

Amanda tired to remain expressionless as she walked back to her seat, awaiting an unpleasant rebuttal and certain she had just made herself deeply unpopular or at least acquired an unpleasant reputation.

[Sraelyn]

“You and me both kid” said Alexandre in response to Nadya as he reclined further into the chair, “and I sincerely hope that command hears you. I fear that otherwise it’s going to be a race between boredom and this damned weather to see which can claim my life first.” He was starting to like the young Russian, she was a kindred spirit in the war against idleness. Despite her age she seemed like a fighter at heart, and he appreciated that. “Hopefully we can pay a little visit to Judgement’s Grace. I wouldn’t mind showing those religious nuts what proper fire and brimstone looks like.”

The briefing room was getting filled with most of his fellow Valkyries, most of them simply taking a seat or gathering around the entrance waiting for an officer to arrive, yet one of those newly arrived pilots issued a strange question. It might have been simply an innocuous questions born out of curiosity, but his body tensed somewhat at the possible challenge. As he was about to respond, an older woman stood up to address the crowd regarding kill counts and team cohesion. To say that Alexandre wasn’t impressed was an understatement. He had head that spiel before from plenty of other killjoys, maybe some of the younger and meeker ones might be swayed by it, but he would simply disregard her for now.

“In addition to that lovely speech by Amanda over there” sarcasm dripping from his voice, “I’d say that it would depend on the type of mission ahead of us, not all MACEs are suited equally for all types of scenarios.” Alexandre left a small pause. Perhaps the question was just bait, meant to test the ego of everyone at the room. But screw it, he'd bite. “Regardless, I think I can take down a few more than both of you at least” he said nonchalantly, relaxing once again on his seat with a slight smirk on his face, waiting to see how she they would react.

[Sudbrazil]

Edward Gallagher Smith
Fort Carson, El Paso county ~ 1000 hours, 2047

---

The higher ups were taking their time, but he didn't really mind. More free time was always pleasant, though the last days sitting around the motor pool and running laps hadn't done much to entertain them. In earlier days he had yearned for a small skirmish, or perhaps even a firefight to inject some adrenaline into his bloodstream, but Gallagher knew that when the bullets started flying, things generally broke down. The younger his comrades, the more likely...
Edward listened to the ongoing conversation, feinting detachment as he sketched prosperous cityscapes he only knew from photos. The pen had been a trustworthy companion when the other Valkyries were too much of a bore, but his discussion was rather interesting, no matter the childishness typical of young soldiers that permeated it.

“I have stopped counting at this point,” he muttered with a faint provocative disdain, “Going back through hours of FLIR footage, counting how many dead people are on the grainy screen is futile. Especially if you start counting zed crowds. We can be so much more productive.”

[Forest State]

---

Alyxandra Jane Gray

---

Alyx shrugged and narrowed her eyes at the response from Amanda. Well, that was one way to kill the mood. On one level she actually agreed with Amanda, it was stupid to chase kills without considering other things such as objectives. But on the other hand that didn’t mean that the metric should just be thrown out entirely and it didn’t mean that competition wasn’t good for the unit. If it wasn’t for her competitive spirit she likely wouldn’t have even pushed herself hard enough to make it as a Valkyrie and while she didn’t know if that was also true for the others, she knew she wasn’t giving up her competitiveness anytime soon.

“Just a casual question, no need to recite something from some manual to me about teamwork. I know the importance of that, was just wondering. Might as well think of killcount as just another incentive to get the job done,” she said, her voice slightly annoyed but not really offended or angry per say. “And as far as it being a useful metric goes, I’m pretty sure that if we aren’t taking anything down out there, we aren’t serving much use. It’s just another way of measuring that.”

She looked to the other ‘Alex’, Alexandre, however, with a different look. It was a slight smirk, as if she was happy that someone else could understand that it wasn’t that serious of a question and they didn’t have to get on her for asking it. “We’ll see about that,” she remarked, before looking to Edward, whose reaction wasn’t as strong as Amanda’s but had also been one that seemed slightly… Disdainful.

She just shrugged in reply. “Don’t really think that tracking our performances isn’t productive but I guess.”