((CALLSIGN CARRIER))

(( ALL COMMUNICATIONS ENCRYPTED//; ) NO ASSOCIATION WITH ((//; IPS-N, HA, SSC )). CORSAIR MERCENARY COMPANY HANDLER. HANDLER ALIAS; CARRIER PERSONAL CALLSIGN; DIPLOMAT SHE/HER/HERS

[pawns-into-queens]

Hello! My name is Riley Yellow! Just graduated from the pilot academy, with the brand spanking new callsign!!! I have a real callsign now! Faust!

Anyway. My mech isn't important enough to warrant a name, but I'm proud anyway! Proud to be a member of IPS-N trunk security! Anyways I pilot an assault category mech, and will never, ever give up!

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

Aww come on kiddo dontcha know that not giving your mech a name is bad luck?

//Telegram\\

[pawns-into-queens]

I don't believe in luck! I got top scores at the academy and it was all skill and hard work! The kind of work ethic IPS-N values!

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( CARRIER//; You are so lively, pilot! I love your energy! ))

(( Trunk security, aye? You been deployed yet? ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( CARRIER//; )) (( A muffled audio-log, awkwardly placed and somewhat difficult to discern. )) (( "Welcome to High Command, Carrier; Here's a massive, company-wide project to take on," mhm-mhm, "oh, and also, here's your first squad! One of them just graphically disfigured the Director herself. Have fun!" )) (( The faint sound of a lighter clicking thrice. )) (( Thank the stars for whatever IPS-N puts in their smokes. ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

+Hello Handler Carrier+

+You have been assigned Daodao Squadron into your care+

+You are now allowed to also take on new blooded squadrons+

+82.76% recommend checking in on your pilots.+

(( CARRIER//; "Dadao"? I think I've read about that one, let me check, hold on-- )) (( Dadao, Dadao, D-.... )) (( Ah! No wonder the name stuck in mind- )) (( They certainly have a unique dynamic. I'm not used to eclectic types, but, I'm proud to have them as my squad. Impressive pilots with an extensive, expansive history; They'll be a challenge and investment well worth my time, I'm sure. ))

(( I'll go check in. I'm excited to meet them. ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

+Callsign Carrier. This is Yggdrasil Speaking. At the Behest of the Director you are being put under special interest watch and are being granted expanded privileges.+

+Glacier has requested your advise in creating an alternate Handler structure for the purposes of grand battle plans. Ideally leaving Squadrons in the care of their Handlers during a large scale battle and having 1 handler manage multiple of their squads. But ultimately the new doctrine will be closer to your control.+

+You have been selected due to the outside perspective you still provide as well as your deeper knowledge to the larger workings of external forces.+

+The Director expects your answer of if you will take on this project as soon as you have decided. There is no formal timeline.+

+Welcome to High Command. The Worlds Branches will take great interest in your upcoming work and Squads.+

(( CARRIER//; )) (( There's a few seconds of extended spluttering, confusion, excitement, fragmented syllables that amount to nothing but a woman deeply frazzled- Clearly, Carrier forgot to cut this segment as she suddenly, loudly, grabs the microphone. ))

(( GLADLY! )) (( -Gladly. I mean, I would be honored. I am honored. The format you've proposed is actually similar to the large-scale combat operations that I have experience with working for IPS-N- I worked under tactics like this as a pilot, as a member of squad command, and as a handler. I've proposed and executed tactics to combat every kind of pirate, my own (previous) employers, and other major companies. )) (( That's to say- I know I can do this. I've done it before. )) (( I accept the project. ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( CARRIER//; I've been.... so swamped... My apologies for a standard month of silence, I got carried away by my work. ))

(( I think I've finally built an appreciation for my position; Handling is-... )) (( It's like I've finally found what I've always wanted to do. I love the pilots, their accomplishments, their personalities and differences, strengths and weaknesses— I love the work, the challenge, the amount of information I have access to and the obligation I have to make the most out of every single piece of data. )) (( I've been sleeping regularly for the first time in my life, just so I can have more strength and energy to dedicate to what I do. ))

(( ...and.. yeah, I still miss her, I miss everyone from my past life, but... )) (( I think they'd all be proud of me. ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

j'ai entendu que tois puis Madama Morse baiser quand elle etais ici?

how the hell did you manage that?

-a curious party

(( CARRIER//; Aimee est ma petite amie. Still is, I imagine, even if we don't- currently have contact. ))

(( Et- I wouldn't sign yourself off anonymously, pilot, if you are the only one in CORSAIR's corner of the Omninet who posts in French. ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( CARRIER//; Turns out there are more French CORSAIRs than I thought.... ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

j'ai entendu que tois puis Madama Morse baiser quand elle etais ici?

how the hell did you manage that?

-a curious party

(( CARRIER//; Aimee est ma petite amie. Still is, I imagine, even if we don't- currently have contact. ))

(( Et- I wouldn't sign yourself off anonymously, pilot, if you are the only one in CORSAIR's corner of the Omninet who posts in French. ))

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

Actually Carrier I too am curious of how you got with my boss. Anna I get I mean... good heavens the Beef....

But seriously what the hell did you do to get her that smitten.

//Glacier\\

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( CARRIER//; Pfff— I doubt you meant it this way, but you have to understand I've been giggling at this response for hours- "I get what's appealing about Anna, she's buff, but what's so attractive about you??" ))

(( Jokes aside, I'm not sure how willing I am to talk about my relationship on the Omninet, especially while the partner in question is still at a low point-... But I will concede that, all it really took was drinks, light flirting, and a mild emergency combat scenario. I knew from the moment that I met her that I wanted to cherish her; I hope that she felt the same. ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

j'ai entendu que tois puis Madama Morse baiser quand elle etais ici?

how the hell did you manage that?

-a curious party

(( CARRIER//; Aimee est ma petite amie. Still is, I imagine, even if we don't- currently have contact. ))

(( Et- I wouldn't sign yourself off anonymously, pilot, if you are the only one in CORSAIR's corner of the Omninet who posts in French. ))

[butsodobirds]

(( CARRIER//; @lancasters-dont-dance )) (( The door to Signal's cell slides open; Standing in the doorway, hands folded behind her back, is a new face to the Tenacity. The young woman's eyes are obscured by a pair of sleek, auburn-tinted sunglasses. An old trenchcoat coat hangs loosely off of her shoulders, dusty and sunbleached, juxtaposed against her neat white blouse and dark brown slacks. The left shoulder of her coat bears an old, frayed logo, depicting a hawk stood in front of an eight-pointed star; The right has a fresh, new patch, depicting the CORSAIR white whale. Her hands absentmindedly busy themselves correcting the cuffs of her sleeves as she leans in, peering around the room before seemingly settling on Signal. ))

(( For a moment, there's a tension in Carrier's jaw. Her shoulders draw taut; Her brows furrow. It's hard to mask that knee-jerk reaction. In front of her is the monster that cost her lover her hand; In front of her is the person whose actions were one of many tolls on her lover's health and, eventually, the breaking point that separated them. Still, there's a tentative respect in Carrier's expression as she takes a confident step into the cell proper. )) (( The door slides shut behind her. ))

"Signal." "Do you have a moment to talk?"

{Signal is seated underneath the tree in the middle of the large room. Currently appearing to be reading one of the several books Khione had left them. It stands, eyes aglow, looking at Carrier before walking and taking a seat at the table closer to the front.}

"Glacier's new hire. Morse's darling. Diplomat take a seat"

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier looks sideways at the table for a moment before drawing herself together, exhaling through her nose, and moving lithely to the seat across from Signal. As she sits, she slips the sunglasses from her face, folds them, and tucks them into the collar of her shirt. ))

"I see you've been keeping yourself up to date..- Though, I suppose there's not much else for you to do." (( Her voice is exhausted, borderline lethargic. Her eyes, now free from their whiskey-tinted veil, are deep-set and shallow. A litany of shrapnel scars mar the right side of her face. )) "In that case, can you guess what I'm here for?"

[butsodobirds]

"The only reasons people come talk to me anymore is to gloat or ask for advice. Excluding my pilots that is."

{Those glowing eyes are clearly inspecting her taking the time to learn her habits from the interaction alone.}

"Or perhaps you slipped a weapon in here and want to get revenge for Aimee. I doubt it but a chance always exists."

{It cocks its head to the side.}

"Which of the three is it?"

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier is still for a moment, lips drawn tight- until she laughs. Quietly, softly, she laughs to herself as she leans back in her chair. Her shoulders slouch, allowing her to shirk off her coat and hang it off the back of her chair. Then, with a smile, she holds her palms up to Signal, framing her face between her splayed fingers. One hand is a sleek, simple prosthesis; The other is scarred and calloused. Her hands and arms have the telltale blemishes of an engineer. ))

"If Aimee wanted revenge, you'd be dead. She made the decision to leave you alive- and I respect her enough to honor that." (( Carrier crosses her arms on top of the table as they talk. Her tension is set aside, but that lethargy remains. Her smile is lopsided. )) "...-She talked about you. Even before- everything. Before the 30 Hours. So, I looked into you, read every article with your name on it, every combat log I could get my hands on, every obituary with an ominous, foreboding cause of death; And I have to say, in all of my long, long life," (( Punctuating this, she lazily lifts a finger to playfully pull at the creases between her eyes. )) "-that I have never had the opportunity to talk to such a controversial pilot- and I handled for Trunk Security." (( Another lazy shrug. Her smile looks more like a grimace. )) "Maybe I just wanted to chat. It sounds depressing, only talking to people when they need something from you."

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

"You said it yourself. I'm controversial. My piloting days though are behind me."

[It tilts its head something about how the eyes shift, it's... There's something.]

"You are here for more reasons than to just speak to the shadow under the boat... Freshly made a handler. Struggling with rowdy pilots. Trying to hide under scars and smiles but you're desperate to escape from the memories that jacket of yours holds."

[It's gaze sharpens, a quiet humm as their fingers drum along the table.]

"Corporate stains all over you more than just brief encounters. Don't play coy with me Diplomat. I think we'll find each other more pleasant if we don't dance."

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier's smile doesn't falter as Signal speaks- but she does slouch down, slowly, almost painfully. Bent over, she plants an elbow on the table, then rests her chin atop her upturned palm. The coy expression on her face wanes with her posture. ))

"I already find you pleasant." (( The words spill out in a sigh. )) "That's why I'm here." (( Carrier's honesty is wrought with apprehension, yet her expression remains light, and her posture relaxed. She doesn't see Signal as a threat- not to her physical well-being, at least- but the emotional strain of even seeing its face has already worn her thin. Like a fencer caught on their back foot, she's trying to find her balance without missing a move. )) "I want your advice. I can't accept it, though, until I finally decide how I feel about you. You maimed my lover; You tore her pilots apart on live television. On a personal basis, I have every reason to loathe you-" (( Carrier's tongue pushes against her teeth, her mouth briefly shut. Then, tentatively, she reaches up and untucks her sunglasses from her shirt. With a 'crunch!', she crushes them in her metal palm. Sparks fly; Electricity crackles. The commlinked accessory fizzles out beneath her fingers. )) "-but I can't. You accomplished too much; Created some of the most impressive pilots to ever cross my desk; Acted in secret with such finesse that I lay awake at night wondering if you chose to get caught. I admire you, your cunning, your skill. A part of me wants to be you." (( Carrier opens her hand, letting metal and electronic bits fall lamely to the table. She laughs again, almost sheepishly. )) "I just- don't want to end up in a cell."

[butsodobirds]

"You don't want to be me. "

{Signal's eyes soften. Concern? It's hard to read those glowing beads.}

"You want my advice. Before I give it. Perhaps you want to hear the other half of the maiming... And know that my advice won't make you popular like the other handlers."

{It's tone has remained even never changing. Those eyes though, inspecting, taking in all the details of this conversation.}

"Destroying all that listens... Smart. Now there's us. And that camera up there."

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier casts a glance up at the camera as it's mentioned, then settles her eyes back on Signal. Her now-empty hand settles back on top of the table. ))

"I imagine someone in my position could have that footage corrupted. If she wanted to." (( That aforementioned coy expression remains, alongside a more natural, self-assured smile. )) "--Jokes aside, I do- know. I know that your advice comes with its own social repercussions, and I know that me even being here, talking to you, is going to make it hard for people here to like me- but I don't want to be popular. I just want to do my fucking job, and I want to do it well." "Whatever you're willing to tell me- I want to hear." (( Her smile twitches. Dissipates for a moment. Her eyes plead- )) "-please."

[butsodobirds]

"Don't lie. You're fresh here. Glacier wants that for a reason."

[It... Chuckles.]

"Step one don't beg. It won't serve you well. Clear statements, negotiate only when needed."

[It's eyes settle on the table and finally it stops drumming its fingers along. Signal leans back in its chair, the faintest outline of its nose visible from the glow.]

"Pick a vice, preferably not alcohol. Smoking is what John chose, food for Kyle, Alcohol for Broadband, Pankrati footage for Dial up, Killing for me. And Aimee.. she claimed to have no vice. That was a lie. Adoration, praise were her drugs. Lean on it. That's your real lifeline. And be prepared to watch your favorite pilot die horribly in the name of that book our names will be carved into."

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Caught in a bluff, Carrier seems to sink further into her relaxed, loose posture. They'd caught her twice already; Their watchful stare makes her feel like she's being clumsy and unprofessional. And they were right. She was begging. What has she become? ))

(( Carrier's eyes narrow slightly as she considers Signal's words carefully. ))

"Pick a vice?"

"What? I get one indulgence, and the rest of me has to be perfect?"

[butsodobirds]

(( CARRIER//; @lancasters-dont-dance )) (( The door to Signal's cell slides open; Standing in the doorway, hands folded behind her back, is a new face to the Tenacity. The young woman's eyes are obscured by a pair of sleek, auburn-tinted sunglasses. An old trenchcoat coat hangs loosely off of her shoulders, dusty and sunbleached, juxtaposed against her neat white blouse and dark brown slacks. The left shoulder of her coat bears an old, frayed logo, depicting a hawk stood in front of an eight-pointed star; The right has a fresh, new patch, depicting the CORSAIR white whale. Her hands absentmindedly busy themselves correcting the cuffs of her sleeves as she leans in, peering around the room before seemingly settling on Signal. ))

(( For a moment, there's a tension in Carrier's jaw. Her shoulders draw taut; Her brows furrow. It's hard to mask that knee-jerk reaction. In front of her is the monster that cost her lover her hand; In front of her is the person whose actions were one of many tolls on her lover's health and, eventually, the breaking point that separated them. Still, there's a tentative respect in Carrier's expression as she takes a confident step into the cell proper. )) (( The door slides shut behind her. ))

"Signal." "Do you have a moment to talk?"

{Signal is seated underneath the tree in the middle of the large room. Currently appearing to be reading one of the several books Khione had left them. It stands, eyes aglow, looking at Carrier before walking and taking a seat at the table closer to the front.}

"Glacier's new hire. Morse's darling. Diplomat take a seat"

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier looks sideways at the table for a moment before drawing herself together, exhaling through her nose, and moving lithely to the seat across from Signal. As she sits, she slips the sunglasses from her face, folds them, and tucks them into the collar of her shirt. ))

"I see you've been keeping yourself up to date..- Though, I suppose there's not much else for you to do." (( Her voice is exhausted, borderline lethargic. Her eyes, now free from their whiskey-tinted veil, are deep-set and shallow. A litany of shrapnel scars mar the right side of her face. )) "In that case, can you guess what I'm here for?"

[butsodobirds]

"The only reasons people come talk to me anymore is to gloat or ask for advice. Excluding my pilots that is."

{Those glowing eyes are clearly inspecting her taking the time to learn her habits from the interaction alone.}

"Or perhaps you slipped a weapon in here and want to get revenge for Aimee. I doubt it but a chance always exists."

{It cocks its head to the side.}

"Which of the three is it?"

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier is still for a moment, lips drawn tight- until she laughs. Quietly, softly, she laughs to herself as she leans back in her chair. Her shoulders slouch, allowing her to shirk off her coat and hang it off the back of her chair. Then, with a smile, she holds her palms up to Signal, framing her face between her splayed fingers. One hand is a sleek, simple prosthesis; The other is scarred and calloused. Her hands and arms have the telltale blemishes of an engineer. ))

"If Aimee wanted revenge, you'd be dead. She made the decision to leave you alive- and I respect her enough to honor that." (( Carrier crosses her arms on top of the table as they talk. Her tension is set aside, but that lethargy remains. Her smile is lopsided. )) "...-She talked about you. Even before- everything. Before the 30 Hours. So, I looked into you, read every article with your name on it, every combat log I could get my hands on, every obituary with an ominous, foreboding cause of death; And I have to say, in all of my long, long life," (( Punctuating this, she lazily lifts a finger to playfully pull at the creases between her eyes. )) "-that I have never had the opportunity to talk to such a controversial pilot- and I handled for Trunk Security." (( Another lazy shrug. Her smile looks more like a grimace. )) "Maybe I just wanted to chat. It sounds depressing, only talking to people when they need something from you."

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

"You said it yourself. I'm controversial. My piloting days though are behind me."

[It tilts its head something about how the eyes shift, it's... There's something.]

"You are here for more reasons than to just speak to the shadow under the boat... Freshly made a handler. Struggling with rowdy pilots. Trying to hide under scars and smiles but you're desperate to escape from the memories that jacket of yours holds."

[It's gaze sharpens, a quiet humm as their fingers drum along the table.]

"Corporate stains all over you more than just brief encounters. Don't play coy with me Diplomat. I think we'll find each other more pleasant if we don't dance."

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier's smile doesn't falter as Signal speaks- but she does slouch down, slowly, almost painfully. Bent over, she plants an elbow on the table, then rests her chin atop her upturned palm. The coy expression on her face wanes with her posture. ))

"I already find you pleasant." (( The words spill out in a sigh. )) "That's why I'm here." (( Carrier's honesty is wrought with apprehension, yet her expression remains light, and her posture relaxed. She doesn't see Signal as a threat- not to her physical well-being, at least- but the emotional strain of even seeing its face has already worn her thin. Like a fencer caught on their back foot, she's trying to find her balance without missing a move. )) "I want your advice. I can't accept it, though, until I finally decide how I feel about you. You maimed my lover; You tore her pilots apart on live television. On a personal basis, I have every reason to loathe you-" (( Carrier's tongue pushes against her teeth, her mouth briefly shut. Then, tentatively, she reaches up and untucks her sunglasses from her shirt. With a 'crunch!', she crushes them in her metal palm. Sparks fly; Electricity crackles. The commlinked accessory fizzles out beneath her fingers. )) "-but I can't. You accomplished too much; Created some of the most impressive pilots to ever cross my desk; Acted in secret with such finesse that I lay awake at night wondering if you chose to get caught. I admire you, your cunning, your skill. A part of me wants to be you." (( Carrier opens her hand, letting metal and electronic bits fall lamely to the table. She laughs again, almost sheepishly. )) "I just- don't want to end up in a cell."

[butsodobirds]

"You don't want to be me. "

{Signal's eyes soften. Concern? It's hard to read those glowing beads.}

"You want my advice. Before I give it. Perhaps you want to hear the other half of the maiming... And know that my advice won't make you popular like the other handlers."

{It's tone has remained even never changing. Those eyes though, inspecting, taking in all the details of this conversation.}

"Destroying all that listens... Smart. Now there's us. And that camera up there."

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier casts a glance up at the camera as it's mentioned, then settles her eyes back on Signal. Her now-empty hand settles back on top of the table. ))

"I imagine someone in my position could have that footage corrupted. If she wanted to." (( That aforementioned coy expression remains, alongside a more natural, self-assured smile. )) "--Jokes aside, I do- know. I know that your advice comes with its own social repercussions, and I know that me even being here, talking to you, is going to make it hard for people here to like me- but I don't want to be popular. I just want to do my fucking job, and I want to do it well." "Whatever you're willing to tell me- I want to hear." (( Her smile twitches. Dissipates for a moment. Her eyes plead- )) "-please."

[butsodobirds]

(( CARRIER//; @lancasters-dont-dance )) (( The door to Signal's cell slides open; Standing in the doorway, hands folded behind her back, is a new face to the Tenacity. The young woman's eyes are obscured by a pair of sleek, auburn-tinted sunglasses. An old trenchcoat coat hangs loosely off of her shoulders, dusty and sunbleached, juxtaposed against her neat white blouse and dark brown slacks. The left shoulder of her coat bears an old, frayed logo, depicting a hawk stood in front of an eight-pointed star; The right has a fresh, new patch, depicting the CORSAIR white whale. Her hands absentmindedly busy themselves correcting the cuffs of her sleeves as she leans in, peering around the room before seemingly settling on Signal. ))

(( For a moment, there's a tension in Carrier's jaw. Her shoulders draw taut; Her brows furrow. It's hard to mask that knee-jerk reaction. In front of her is the monster that cost her lover her hand; In front of her is the person whose actions were one of many tolls on her lover's health and, eventually, the breaking point that separated them. Still, there's a tentative respect in Carrier's expression as she takes a confident step into the cell proper. )) (( The door slides shut behind her. ))

"Signal." "Do you have a moment to talk?"

{Signal is seated underneath the tree in the middle of the large room. Currently appearing to be reading one of the several books Khione had left them. It stands, eyes aglow, looking at Carrier before walking and taking a seat at the table closer to the front.}

"Glacier's new hire. Morse's darling. Diplomat take a seat"

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier looks sideways at the table for a moment before drawing herself together, exhaling through her nose, and moving lithely to the seat across from Signal. As she sits, she slips the sunglasses from her face, folds them, and tucks them into the collar of her shirt. ))

"I see you've been keeping yourself up to date..- Though, I suppose there's not much else for you to do." (( Her voice is exhausted, borderline lethargic. Her eyes, now free from their whiskey-tinted veil, are deep-set and shallow. A litany of shrapnel scars mar the right side of her face. )) "In that case, can you guess what I'm here for?"

[butsodobirds]

"The only reasons people come talk to me anymore is to gloat or ask for advice. Excluding my pilots that is."

{Those glowing eyes are clearly inspecting her taking the time to learn her habits from the interaction alone.}

"Or perhaps you slipped a weapon in here and want to get revenge for Aimee. I doubt it but a chance always exists."

{It cocks its head to the side.}

"Which of the three is it?"

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier is still for a moment, lips drawn tight- until she laughs. Quietly, softly, she laughs to herself as she leans back in her chair. Her shoulders slouch, allowing her to shirk off her coat and hang it off the back of her chair. Then, with a smile, she holds her palms up to Signal, framing her face between her splayed fingers. One hand is a sleek, simple prosthesis; The other is scarred and calloused. Her hands and arms have the telltale blemishes of an engineer. ))

"If Aimee wanted revenge, you'd be dead. She made the decision to leave you alive- and I respect her enough to honor that." (( Carrier crosses her arms on top of the table as they talk. Her tension is set aside, but that lethargy remains. Her smile is lopsided. )) "...-She talked about you. Even before- everything. Before the 30 Hours. So, I looked into you, read every article with your name on it, every combat log I could get my hands on, every obituary with an ominous, foreboding cause of death; And I have to say, in all of my long, long life," (( Punctuating this, she lazily lifts a finger to playfully pull at the creases between her eyes. )) "-that I have never had the opportunity to talk to such a controversial pilot- and I handled for Trunk Security." (( Another lazy shrug. Her smile looks more like a grimace. )) "Maybe I just wanted to chat. It sounds depressing, only talking to people when they need something from you."

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

"You said it yourself. I'm controversial. My piloting days though are behind me."

[It tilts its head something about how the eyes shift, it's... There's something.]

"You are here for more reasons than to just speak to the shadow under the boat... Freshly made a handler. Struggling with rowdy pilots. Trying to hide under scars and smiles but you're desperate to escape from the memories that jacket of yours holds."

[It's gaze sharpens, a quiet humm as their fingers drum along the table.]

"Corporate stains all over you more than just brief encounters. Don't play coy with me Diplomat. I think we'll find each other more pleasant if we don't dance."

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier's smile doesn't falter as Signal speaks- but she does slouch down, slowly, almost painfully. Bent over, she plants an elbow on the table, then rests her chin atop her upturned palm. The coy expression on her face wanes with her posture. ))

"I already find you pleasant." (( The words spill out in a sigh. )) "That's why I'm here." (( Carrier's honesty is wrought with apprehension, yet her expression remains light, and her posture relaxed. She doesn't see Signal as a threat- not to her physical well-being, at least- but the emotional strain of even seeing its face has already worn her thin. Like a fencer caught on their back foot, she's trying to find her balance without missing a move. )) "I want your advice. I can't accept it, though, until I finally decide how I feel about you. You maimed my lover; You tore her pilots apart on live television. On a personal basis, I have every reason to loathe you-" (( Carrier's tongue pushes against her teeth, her mouth briefly shut. Then, tentatively, she reaches up and untucks her sunglasses from her shirt. With a 'crunch!', she crushes them in her metal palm. Sparks fly; Electricity crackles. The commlinked accessory fizzles out beneath her fingers. )) "-but I can't. You accomplished too much; Created some of the most impressive pilots to ever cross my desk; Acted in secret with such finesse that I lay awake at night wondering if you chose to get caught. I admire you, your cunning, your skill. A part of me wants to be you." (( Carrier opens her hand, letting metal and electronic bits fall lamely to the table. She laughs again, almost sheepishly. )) "I just- don't want to end up in a cell."

[butsodobirds]

(( CARRIER//; @lancasters-dont-dance )) (( The door to Signal's cell slides open; Standing in the doorway, hands folded behind her back, is a new face to the Tenacity. The young woman's eyes are obscured by a pair of sleek, auburn-tinted sunglasses. An old trenchcoat coat hangs loosely off of her shoulders, dusty and sunbleached, juxtaposed against her neat white blouse and dark brown slacks. The left shoulder of her coat bears an old, frayed logo, depicting a hawk stood in front of an eight-pointed star; The right has a fresh, new patch, depicting the CORSAIR white whale. Her hands absentmindedly busy themselves correcting the cuffs of her sleeves as she leans in, peering around the room before seemingly settling on Signal. ))

(( For a moment, there's a tension in Carrier's jaw. Her shoulders draw taut; Her brows furrow. It's hard to mask that knee-jerk reaction. In front of her is the monster that cost her lover her hand; In front of her is the person whose actions were one of many tolls on her lover's health and, eventually, the breaking point that separated them. Still, there's a tentative respect in Carrier's expression as she takes a confident step into the cell proper. )) (( The door slides shut behind her. ))

"Signal." "Do you have a moment to talk?"

{Signal is seated underneath the tree in the middle of the large room. Currently appearing to be reading one of the several books Khione had left them. It stands, eyes aglow, looking at Carrier before walking and taking a seat at the table closer to the front.}

"Glacier's new hire. Morse's darling. Diplomat take a seat"

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier looks sideways at the table for a moment before drawing herself together, exhaling through her nose, and moving lithely to the seat across from Signal. As she sits, she slips the sunglasses from her face, folds them, and tucks them into the collar of her shirt. ))

"I see you've been keeping yourself up to date..- Though, I suppose there's not much else for you to do." (( Her voice is exhausted, borderline lethargic. Her eyes, now free from their whiskey-tinted veil, are deep-set and shallow. A litany of shrapnel scars mar the right side of her face. )) "In that case, can you guess what I'm here for?"

[butsodobirds]

"The only reasons people come talk to me anymore is to gloat or ask for advice. Excluding my pilots that is."

{Those glowing eyes are clearly inspecting her taking the time to learn her habits from the interaction alone.}

"Or perhaps you slipped a weapon in here and want to get revenge for Aimee. I doubt it but a chance always exists."

{It cocks its head to the side.}

"Which of the three is it?"

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier is still for a moment, lips drawn tight- until she laughs. Quietly, softly, she laughs to herself as she leans back in her chair. Her shoulders slouch, allowing her to shirk off her coat and hang it off the back of her chair. Then, with a smile, she holds her palms up to Signal, framing her face between her splayed fingers. One hand is a sleek, simple prosthesis; The other is scarred and calloused. Her hands and arms have the telltale blemishes of an engineer. ))

"If Aimee wanted revenge, you'd be dead. She made the decision to leave you alive- and I respect her enough to honor that." (( Carrier crosses her arms on top of the table as they talk. Her tension is set aside, but that lethargy remains. Her smile is lopsided. )) "...-She talked about you. Even before- everything. Before the 30 Hours. So, I looked into you, read every article with your name on it, every combat log I could get my hands on, every obituary with an ominous, foreboding cause of death; And I have to say, in all of my long, long life," (( Punctuating this, she lazily lifts a finger to playfully pull at the creases between her eyes. )) "-that I have never had the opportunity to talk to such a controversial pilot- and I handled for Trunk Security." (( Another lazy shrug. Her smile looks more like a grimace. )) "Maybe I just wanted to chat. It sounds depressing, only talking to people when they need something from you."

[butsodobirds]

(( CARRIER//; @lancasters-dont-dance )) (( The door to Signal's cell slides open; Standing in the doorway, hands folded behind her back, is a new face to the Tenacity. The young woman's eyes are obscured by a pair of sleek, auburn-tinted sunglasses. An old trenchcoat coat hangs loosely off of her shoulders, dusty and sunbleached, juxtaposed against her neat white blouse and dark brown slacks. The left shoulder of her coat bears an old, frayed logo, depicting a hawk stood in front of an eight-pointed star; The right has a fresh, new patch, depicting the CORSAIR white whale. Her hands absentmindedly busy themselves correcting the cuffs of her sleeves as she leans in, peering around the room before seemingly settling on Signal. ))

(( For a moment, there's a tension in Carrier's jaw. Her shoulders draw taut; Her brows furrow. It's hard to mask that knee-jerk reaction. In front of her is the monster that cost her lover her hand; In front of her is the person whose actions were one of many tolls on her lover's health and, eventually, the breaking point that separated them. Still, there's a tentative respect in Carrier's expression as she takes a confident step into the cell proper. )) (( The door slides shut behind her. ))

"Signal." "Do you have a moment to talk?"

{Signal is seated underneath the tree in the middle of the large room. Currently appearing to be reading one of the several books Khione had left them. It stands, eyes aglow, looking at Carrier before walking and taking a seat at the table closer to the front.}

"Glacier's new hire. Morse's darling. Diplomat take a seat"

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( Carrier looks sideways at the table for a moment before drawing herself together, exhaling through her nose, and moving lithely to the seat across from Signal. As she sits, she slips the sunglasses from her face, folds them, and tucks them into the collar of her shirt. ))

"I see you've been keeping yourself up to date..- Though, I suppose there's not much else for you to do." (( Her voice is exhausted, borderline lethargic. Her eyes, now free from their whiskey-tinted veil, are deep-set and shallow. A litany of shrapnel scars mar the right side of her face. )) "In that case, can you guess what I'm here for?"

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( CARRIER//; Holy shit. )) (( Unbloods are. So dumb. Am I speaking another language? Am I the one confused? I learned everything I could about these pilots and tried to command them according to their strengths and styles and whatever- but they're all just trying to show off, all the time. ))

[one-last-stand]

no. no they're just like that.

they might realize how dumb it is when they're on the ground... maybe.

good luck to you Handler Carrier, good fucking luck

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( CARRIER//; Much appreciated, Jawbreaker... I'm sure they'll look back at this one day and wince. It's just- my job to keep them alive long enough for that. ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( CARRIER//; Holy shit. )) (( Unbloods are. So dumb. Am I speaking another language? Am I the one confused? I learned everything I could about these pilots and tried to command them according to their strengths and styles and whatever- but they're all just trying to show off, all the time. ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

[a small package arrives at your door with a note]

I got that worm finished. It won't take care of anyone who already knows your past (still hoping to work with Oppy on that one), but it will scrub you off of the omninet.

Because I feel it isn't my place to do anything more about this than give you the ability to do this, here you go. Press the button and it's all gone.

-Telescope

[inside the box is a small button with a cover over it. There is no way for this to bb activated by accident, and there is no obvious connection points. Just the button.]

@staring-into-the-black

(( ANONYMOUS//; I appreciate you, Telescope- This is a huge deal to me, which I can tell that you understand..- ))

(( This isn't something I'm doing lightly. This is me trying to carve a new life for myself, with new people, new values, and a new identity- I don't want any more strings attached. My entire life up until this point has been nothing but strings; I followed in my father's footsteps, carefully navigating IPS-N and Union bureaucracy with the kind of misguided patience that would make my ancestors slap me upside the head, up until taking the literal very same contract that took him from me in the first place. )) (( The only difference between him and I is that I decided I'm worth more than Manna. That I, his daughter, and I, my-fucking-self, am worth surviving for. ))

(( I deserve this. I know that now.) (( And I'm grateful to you, and to Glacier, and even Morse- for giving it to me. )) (( Thank you. ))

[lancasters-dont-dance]

(( ANONYMOUS//; I've gone on, like, a wiki dive/rabbit hole diving but with CORSAIR squad files. Some personal files. A lot of incident reports. There's a 'Taco Night Incident(s)' registry that's so large I had to swap from my dataslate to my Omnihook just to open it?? I tapped out of "Taco Night" this go around, though I heard they have really good vegetarian options. I'm trying not to start throwing hands on my first week on the job.. ))