Callsign: Jawbreaker

No one's attack dog. Corsair saved me and killed me. I'm a last resort.

[one-last-stand]

still technically a Corsair. clearly they have more important things to deal with though. shame Morse didn't lower that barrel.

you can call me by my callsign: Jawbreaker. if you call me anything else it's your jaw next.

if they're gonna treat me like a thing figure i'll make it easier on em, call me an it.

im "in" a caliban called 10 Billion Years. it's got an RCA on it. don't ask me how.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

CMC High Command Meeting

OOC: So Imma place all the premise and shite above the cut and below that is where this'll open up. Any and all CORSAIR personnel can get involved in this. This narrativey is to set up some reworks to the CORSAIR combat structure and other fun stuff but is also to let people have their mercenaries yell at eachother pointlessly.

This will probably break into several subthreads so if it's getting long we'll have to make sure to break it into another post just for our sanity sake.

{The director remains seated at the head of the old meeting hall. Built like a senate chamber more than just a meeting space. She's in her hardsuit though the prosthetic synthetic ivory pegleg and manual;y actuated synthetic ivory hand are both visible. Other staff members take their seats. Head of Gruntworks, Head of Shipping, Head of the Postal Service, Head of Gunnery, so on so forth. An actual physical slide projector projects on one wall one simple question. "How do we adapt to large scale combat?"}

{While there are several reasons for this meeting the first topic is clear. And the subtext of their foe in question even more obvious.}

[flambergesquad]

The impact of wood on metal heralds the arrival of Handler HAM well before the doors to the hall slide open, the barrel-shaped man striding in with all the inertia of a main battle tank, favoring his cane-supported leg more than usual. As per the norm for the eccentric, he is meticulously groomed, hair slicked back and mustache expertly curled into a handlebar shape, beard twined into a voluminous braid as he takes a seat a respectful distance away from other forming groups and rests his cane against the table.

"Terribly sorry for the delay, Director, old wounds acting up. The pressure equalizers in Deck 56C are kaput, I tell you."

He reached down, pressing on his thigh briefly with a flicker of a grimace.

"Regardless, hello!"

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Standing at the slide projector, Deuces' fanged mouth already forms a grimace. Their large ocular implants adjust to put the man in focus before returning to their previous focus.}

{The well dressed, exhausted, coffee drinker, scratches twice at the plastic that has replaced their skin on the entire upper half of their head (excluding where a blue Mohawk comes from the top.}

"Your delay is noted. Others are still missing. Take a seat Handler"

{Dry tone as always.}

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Glacier gives the Signal to Deuces to start. Lights in the room go out and the projector fully kicks on, illuminating the massive screen with the CMC Logo. Glacier stands her silhouette barely visible}

"CORSAIRs. My allies. My people. My comrades. I've asked you all here today for several reasons. We have a business offer unlike anything we've had in decades... Not since the first time we went to Voscom, fighting in the Mercenary war. We have new projects being worked on. We are truly rebuilding after the 30 hours. My predecessor... was ultimately soft in her rebuilding. Tried to steer us away from what we are. War dogs."

{Glacier lets her words sink into the room before continuing.}

"And now unlike both of my predecessors we have a chance to do something that we were unable to do before. Adapt. And learn. Callsign Telescope has put together the start of a potential program to reduce our losses of Blooded Pilots and prevent the crippling of our forces in communication blackouts. I've asked Handler Carrier to start the drafting of new doctrines for larger scale conflicts."

{She sighs... there's a tired air in how she conducts herself.... like she should be resting in the medical ward instead of conducting a meeting like this. But still the Ghost stands.}

"But before any of that gets addressed I've asked several members of every department here. I've asked pilots. Ground troops. S.O.Gs. Janitors. Support Staff. Medical. Everyone.... We need to sort out our issues. Stop letting them bind us. So yes... that does mean Callsign Signal is here for that reason too. Before anyone tries or asks anything I won't sign off on an execution here and now."

{Glacier claps her hands together and the lights turn back on. She sits back down shoulders slumped.}

"Yggy if you would"

+The Floor is now Open.+

[one-last-stand]

so no one is gonna talk?

i don't wanna be here. i don't think our director does either.

but i have a question for you Glacier, and for high council

i know i sure as hell don't speak just for myself when i ask what the fuck are y'all planning to do about Union.

what's the plan here Director, you insist on saying it's a bargaining chip but i don't see any bargaining.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Glacier stops fidgeting with her prosthetic hand. Her gaze locks onto the pilot.}

"I've taken a long time thinking about Union. A long time. Mors- Aimee.... Made a mistake. She made a lot of mistakes. More than any of us have wanted to admit. You not included as you've been a real open voice about... Everything."

{She seems... Tired to admit the words that come from her mouth.}

"Aimee put us in a fucking shitty spot. Union breathing down our necks waiting for us to join them."

{She fidgets again with the fingers of her ivory hand. The spotlight being on her is clearly uncomfortable}

"So to answer your question finally about Signal. Handing them over tells Union that we're willing to play their game. And keeping them alive means we have a weapon that everyone's scared of. Tell me that makes me as bad as Haven and you'll be right... But we're gonna have to grit and bear it till I can find a way to get rid of the problem Aimee landed us in."

{Glacier places her flesh and blood hand against the forehead of her helmet.}

"And as much as we all hate to admit it they're a tactical genius, a capable handler, and someone who honestly scares most every other person in Orion."

{From behind the helmet it almost feels like an apology.}

"I know that's not the answer you want but..."

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

"As much as I want to tell the liberators to get the hell off our station... Pissing off Union isn't the move right now. I know we're chomping at the bit for our next big contract our next boom in hiring."

{Glacier stares at the Handlers in attendence}

"I'd take it up with your Handlers if you think they're being too stingy with contracts... But... Speak up and voice yourselves. We aren't under Haven or Aimee anymore."

[one-last-stand]

So.

so the plan is wait?

the plan is fucking nothing like you’ve been doing for past few months?

the whole reason Union is here at all is because Morse turned us in and she didn't kill it when she should have.

it's a threat to union fine. but then fucking use it. no one here doubts the effectiveness of it's slaughter. [Jawbreaker refuses to look at Signal as it talks] nor the efficacy of it's.. handling.

i've got myself sorted. i should have my boots on the ground i shouldn't fucking be here, but like you said we're dogs of war. why are you so fucking afraid of it?

im not saying we go punch a liberator right now but why the fuck are they still on our station? our station.

i don't know if you've heard the talk outside of your medbay Director but CORSAIRS are waiting for the order to attack, you're on the throne now and it's been awfully fuckin quiet.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

"Rebuilding from the damages of the 30 hours. From the riots we had during that stupid fucking trial. I authorized Handlers to take contracts out and start bringing them to their squads... Seems some of them didn't get the message."

{Glacier Inhales sharply.}

"I am not like my predecessors. Aimee lost herself in that chair... We saw what November shouted during the trial... Haven... We all remember the lead up to the 30. Calling herself the Mercenary Queen. Biting at everything that questioned her... I won't... I won't turn myself into that. You want someone to kick and fight sure... I'll fucking fight.... Fine... You want someone to claim that throne? Then I'll do it but don't you dare equate me to Aimee or Haven. I'm not a fucking Queen."

{Her ivory hand hits her lap with more force than intended. It echoes across the room.}

"Callsign Telescope has been working on a project to reduce the casualties of blooded squads... I've assigned Handler Carrier to work on our battlefield doctrine for mass squad mobilization... I've had to replace our fucking head station mechanic because DuPont put in his resignation without training someone to take his place.... Been building up our Ghost Corps... I'm not loud about what I do. I don't believe in the spectacle the show the others put on. I believe in results. Which have been slow but I'm patient enough to wait..... But you're right. I should be doing more.... Getting the colonizers off of our home.... And bringing attention the big ticket item of this meeting."

"Callsign Sucker. You have the floor.... Unless Jawbreaker you've got anything to add."

[one-last-stand]

[in the silence left after "I'm not a fucking Queen" Jawbreaker lets out a terse laugh]

[Jawbreaker is silent listening to the rest of Glacier's speech, aside from an eye roll at spectacle and patient]

[Jawbreaker sighs at the admission that more needs to be done and pushes it's chair slightly away from the table]

ya fine. i yield the floor or some shit.

[callsign-sucker]

Sucker stood up and cleared his throat as Jawbreaker yielded the floor.

"Thank you Glacier, and all of CORSAIR, for allowing me to sit in on this meeting. I am here to discuss the matters surrounding a shared foe, Harrison Armory." He looked around at the hall of mercenaries, misfits, and vagabonds as he spoke, understanding, at least somewhat, what brought them all here.

"If you have been paying attention to the situation in the Dawnline Shore, you should be aware of the fact that it is a powderkeg waiting to go off, and I, along with the rest of Promise, have faced a stark reality. The core of the Barronies, while more than ready to face the armory directly, are under-prepared in the Dawnline itself, the place where the fighting is most likely to start. As such, I have reached an agreement to make a house company under my employer House Starthis on San Simion. However one does not build an army in a day, and when preparing for a potential war against the armory that is doubly so." Sucker took a deep breath.

"Thus, I need an attache of experienced soildiers, lancers, mechanics, and logisticians, to build said company, and identify key points of defense on San Simion and along the wider territory of the House of Promise. This is a service that, as hopefully indicated by my presence here, we are willing to pay handsomely for. As every mana paid now represents lives saved later, and hopefully, potentially the war being avoided at all." Sucker then looked over the crowd as he considered his next words.

"I am willing to promise any who have past histories with the Barronies the protection of Promise for the duration of the contract, as long as you don't do anything too egregious, this should be covered in your individual copies of the contract, and if you have any further questions once the contract is finalized I am sure the House's legal team as well as your own legal staff would be willing to help."

"shit I hope I didn't come off as a political type..." Sucker spoke quietly under his breath.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{The Director exhales.}

"We'll see what the Handlers think of this, and what the rest of the staff thinks. I'll let them discuss... but either way we get paid. And we get to be the first company to be boots on the ground when that little powder keg sets off"

{There's a quiet laugh, Glacier's ivory hand holding what looks to be a cigarette or such that certainly wasn't there before. Despite her face being obscured one could almost imagine the grin on her face, her speech filled with the kind of avarice that you can only hear from true mercenaries.}

"Is that all you need to make your case Sucker? Because if so... let that show that I'm not an idle Director.."

{She stands from her seat.}

"So who's for it? A return to the Dawnline, partaking in another round of the fight there? Who's ready to hold a gun at Creighton's chest and dare him to fight us again? Who's ready to sign up to teach some fuckin nobles how to bleed like us?"

[callsign-sucker]

"I think that's all that needs to be covered for now, unless anyone here has any questions about the larger situation, I think anything else can be handled in negotiations," Sucker nodded to Glacier. He hoped that his call for aid went over well. Having the aid of a veteran mercenary company would be a massive help and not having that help could prove to be problematic.

[one-last-stand]

talk to LEO.

i’m supposed to be deployed already but another crack at Harrison… fuck it.

just no going all Commodore. if we’re going to war it should be against HA not ourselves..

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

CMC High Command Meeting

OOC: So Imma place all the premise and shite above the cut and below that is where this'll open up. Any and all CORSAIR personnel can get involved in this. This narrativey is to set up some reworks to the CORSAIR combat structure and other fun stuff but is also to let people have their mercenaries yell at eachother pointlessly.

This will probably break into several subthreads so if it's getting long we'll have to make sure to break it into another post just for our sanity sake.

{The director remains seated at the head of the old meeting hall. Built like a senate chamber more than just a meeting space. She's in her hardsuit though the prosthetic synthetic ivory pegleg and manual;y actuated synthetic ivory hand are both visible. Other staff members take their seats. Head of Gruntworks, Head of Shipping, Head of the Postal Service, Head of Gunnery, so on so forth. An actual physical slide projector projects on one wall one simple question. "How do we adapt to large scale combat?"}

{While there are several reasons for this meeting the first topic is clear. And the subtext of their foe in question even more obvious.}

[flambergesquad]

The impact of wood on metal heralds the arrival of Handler HAM well before the doors to the hall slide open, the barrel-shaped man striding in with all the inertia of a main battle tank, favoring his cane-supported leg more than usual. As per the norm for the eccentric, he is meticulously groomed, hair slicked back and mustache expertly curled into a handlebar shape, beard twined into a voluminous braid as he takes a seat a respectful distance away from other forming groups and rests his cane against the table.

"Terribly sorry for the delay, Director, old wounds acting up. The pressure equalizers in Deck 56C are kaput, I tell you."

He reached down, pressing on his thigh briefly with a flicker of a grimace.

"Regardless, hello!"

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Standing at the slide projector, Deuces' fanged mouth already forms a grimace. Their large ocular implants adjust to put the man in focus before returning to their previous focus.}

{The well dressed, exhausted, coffee drinker, scratches twice at the plastic that has replaced their skin on the entire upper half of their head (excluding where a blue Mohawk comes from the top.}

"Your delay is noted. Others are still missing. Take a seat Handler"

{Dry tone as always.}

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Glacier gives the Signal to Deuces to start. Lights in the room go out and the projector fully kicks on, illuminating the massive screen with the CMC Logo. Glacier stands her silhouette barely visible}

"CORSAIRs. My allies. My people. My comrades. I've asked you all here today for several reasons. We have a business offer unlike anything we've had in decades... Not since the first time we went to Voscom, fighting in the Mercenary war. We have new projects being worked on. We are truly rebuilding after the 30 hours. My predecessor... was ultimately soft in her rebuilding. Tried to steer us away from what we are. War dogs."

{Glacier lets her words sink into the room before continuing.}

"And now unlike both of my predecessors we have a chance to do something that we were unable to do before. Adapt. And learn. Callsign Telescope has put together the start of a potential program to reduce our losses of Blooded Pilots and prevent the crippling of our forces in communication blackouts. I've asked Handler Carrier to start the drafting of new doctrines for larger scale conflicts."

{She sighs... there's a tired air in how she conducts herself.... like she should be resting in the medical ward instead of conducting a meeting like this. But still the Ghost stands.}

"But before any of that gets addressed I've asked several members of every department here. I've asked pilots. Ground troops. S.O.Gs. Janitors. Support Staff. Medical. Everyone.... We need to sort out our issues. Stop letting them bind us. So yes... that does mean Callsign Signal is here for that reason too. Before anyone tries or asks anything I won't sign off on an execution here and now."

{Glacier claps her hands together and the lights turn back on. She sits back down shoulders slumped.}

"Yggy if you would"

+The Floor is now Open.+

[one-last-stand]

so no one is gonna talk?

i don't wanna be here. i don't think our director does either.

but i have a question for you Glacier, and for high council

i know i sure as hell don't speak just for myself when i ask what the fuck are y'all planning to do about Union.

what's the plan here Director, you insist on saying it's a bargaining chip but i don't see any bargaining.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Glacier stops fidgeting with her prosthetic hand. Her gaze locks onto the pilot.}

"I've taken a long time thinking about Union. A long time. Mors- Aimee.... Made a mistake. She made a lot of mistakes. More than any of us have wanted to admit. You not included as you've been a real open voice about... Everything."

{She seems... Tired to admit the words that come from her mouth.}

"Aimee put us in a fucking shitty spot. Union breathing down our necks waiting for us to join them."

{She fidgets again with the fingers of her ivory hand. The spotlight being on her is clearly uncomfortable}

"So to answer your question finally about Signal. Handing them over tells Union that we're willing to play their game. And keeping them alive means we have a weapon that everyone's scared of. Tell me that makes me as bad as Haven and you'll be right... But we're gonna have to grit and bear it till I can find a way to get rid of the problem Aimee landed us in."

{Glacier places her flesh and blood hand against the forehead of her helmet.}

"And as much as we all hate to admit it they're a tactical genius, a capable handler, and someone who honestly scares most every other person in Orion."

{From behind the helmet it almost feels like an apology.}

"I know that's not the answer you want but..."

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

"As much as I want to tell the liberators to get the hell off our station... Pissing off Union isn't the move right now. I know we're chomping at the bit for our next big contract our next boom in hiring."

{Glacier stares at the Handlers in attendence}

"I'd take it up with your Handlers if you think they're being too stingy with contracts... But... Speak up and voice yourselves. We aren't under Haven or Aimee anymore."

[one-last-stand]

So.

so the plan is wait?

the plan is fucking nothing like you’ve been doing for past few months?

the whole reason Union is here at all is because Morse turned us in and she didn't kill it when she should have.

it's a threat to union fine. but then fucking use it. no one here doubts the effectiveness of it's slaughter. [Jawbreaker refuses to look at Signal as it talks] nor the efficacy of it's.. handling.

i've got myself sorted. i should have my boots on the ground i shouldn't fucking be here, but like you said we're dogs of war. why are you so fucking afraid of it?

im not saying we go punch a liberator right now but why the fuck are they still on our station? our station.

i don't know if you've heard the talk outside of your medbay Director but CORSAIRS are waiting for the order to attack, you're on the throne now and it's been awfully fuckin quiet.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

"Rebuilding from the damages of the 30 hours. From the riots we had during that stupid fucking trial. I authorized Handlers to take contracts out and start bringing them to their squads... Seems some of them didn't get the message."

{Glacier Inhales sharply.}

"I am not like my predecessors. Aimee lost herself in that chair... We saw what November shouted during the trial... Haven... We all remember the lead up to the 30. Calling herself the Mercenary Queen. Biting at everything that questioned her... I won't... I won't turn myself into that. You want someone to kick and fight sure... I'll fucking fight.... Fine... You want someone to claim that throne? Then I'll do it but don't you dare equate me to Aimee or Haven. I'm not a fucking Queen."

{Her ivory hand hits her lap with more force than intended. It echoes across the room.}

"Callsign Telescope has been working on a project to reduce the casualties of blooded squads... I've assigned Handler Carrier to work on our battlefield doctrine for mass squad mobilization... I've had to replace our fucking head station mechanic because DuPont put in his resignation without training someone to take his place.... Been building up our Ghost Corps... I'm not loud about what I do. I don't believe in the spectacle the show the others put on. I believe in results. Which have been slow but I'm patient enough to wait..... But you're right. I should be doing more.... Getting the colonizers off of our home.... And bringing attention the big ticket item of this meeting."

"Callsign Sucker. You have the floor.... Unless Jawbreaker you've got anything to add."

[one-last-stand]

[in the silence left after "I'm not a fucking Queen" Jawbreaker lets out a terse laugh]

[Jawbreaker is silent listening to the rest of Glacier's speech, aside from an eye roll at spectacle and patient]

[Jawbreaker sighs at the admission that more needs to be done and pushes it's chair slightly away from the table]

ya fine. i yield the floor or some shit.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

CMC High Command Meeting

OOC: So Imma place all the premise and shite above the cut and below that is where this'll open up. Any and all CORSAIR personnel can get involved in this. This narrativey is to set up some reworks to the CORSAIR combat structure and other fun stuff but is also to let people have their mercenaries yell at eachother pointlessly.

This will probably break into several subthreads so if it's getting long we'll have to make sure to break it into another post just for our sanity sake.

{The director remains seated at the head of the old meeting hall. Built like a senate chamber more than just a meeting space. She's in her hardsuit though the prosthetic synthetic ivory pegleg and manual;y actuated synthetic ivory hand are both visible. Other staff members take their seats. Head of Gruntworks, Head of Shipping, Head of the Postal Service, Head of Gunnery, so on so forth. An actual physical slide projector projects on one wall one simple question. "How do we adapt to large scale combat?"}

{While there are several reasons for this meeting the first topic is clear. And the subtext of their foe in question even more obvious.}

[flambergesquad]

The impact of wood on metal heralds the arrival of Handler HAM well before the doors to the hall slide open, the barrel-shaped man striding in with all the inertia of a main battle tank, favoring his cane-supported leg more than usual. As per the norm for the eccentric, he is meticulously groomed, hair slicked back and mustache expertly curled into a handlebar shape, beard twined into a voluminous braid as he takes a seat a respectful distance away from other forming groups and rests his cane against the table.

"Terribly sorry for the delay, Director, old wounds acting up. The pressure equalizers in Deck 56C are kaput, I tell you."

He reached down, pressing on his thigh briefly with a flicker of a grimace.

"Regardless, hello!"

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Standing at the slide projector, Deuces' fanged mouth already forms a grimace. Their large ocular implants adjust to put the man in focus before returning to their previous focus.}

{The well dressed, exhausted, coffee drinker, scratches twice at the plastic that has replaced their skin on the entire upper half of their head (excluding where a blue Mohawk comes from the top.}

"Your delay is noted. Others are still missing. Take a seat Handler"

{Dry tone as always.}

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Glacier gives the Signal to Deuces to start. Lights in the room go out and the projector fully kicks on, illuminating the massive screen with the CMC Logo. Glacier stands her silhouette barely visible}

"CORSAIRs. My allies. My people. My comrades. I've asked you all here today for several reasons. We have a business offer unlike anything we've had in decades... Not since the first time we went to Voscom, fighting in the Mercenary war. We have new projects being worked on. We are truly rebuilding after the 30 hours. My predecessor... was ultimately soft in her rebuilding. Tried to steer us away from what we are. War dogs."

{Glacier lets her words sink into the room before continuing.}

"And now unlike both of my predecessors we have a chance to do something that we were unable to do before. Adapt. And learn. Callsign Telescope has put together the start of a potential program to reduce our losses of Blooded Pilots and prevent the crippling of our forces in communication blackouts. I've asked Handler Carrier to start the drafting of new doctrines for larger scale conflicts."

{She sighs... there's a tired air in how she conducts herself.... like she should be resting in the medical ward instead of conducting a meeting like this. But still the Ghost stands.}

"But before any of that gets addressed I've asked several members of every department here. I've asked pilots. Ground troops. S.O.Gs. Janitors. Support Staff. Medical. Everyone.... We need to sort out our issues. Stop letting them bind us. So yes... that does mean Callsign Signal is here for that reason too. Before anyone tries or asks anything I won't sign off on an execution here and now."

{Glacier claps her hands together and the lights turn back on. She sits back down shoulders slumped.}

"Yggy if you would"

+The Floor is now Open.+

[one-last-stand]

so no one is gonna talk?

i don't wanna be here. i don't think our director does either.

but i have a question for you Glacier, and for high council

i know i sure as hell don't speak just for myself when i ask what the fuck are y'all planning to do about Union.

what's the plan here Director, you insist on saying it's a bargaining chip but i don't see any bargaining.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Glacier stops fidgeting with her prosthetic hand. Her gaze locks onto the pilot.}

"I've taken a long time thinking about Union. A long time. Mors- Aimee.... Made a mistake. She made a lot of mistakes. More than any of us have wanted to admit. You not included as you've been a real open voice about... Everything."

{She seems... Tired to admit the words that come from her mouth.}

"Aimee put us in a fucking shitty spot. Union breathing down our necks waiting for us to join them."

{She fidgets again with the fingers of her ivory hand. The spotlight being on her is clearly uncomfortable}

"So to answer your question finally about Signal. Handing them over tells Union that we're willing to play their game. And keeping them alive means we have a weapon that everyone's scared of. Tell me that makes me as bad as Haven and you'll be right... But we're gonna have to grit and bear it till I can find a way to get rid of the problem Aimee landed us in."

{Glacier places her flesh and blood hand against the forehead of her helmet.}

"And as much as we all hate to admit it they're a tactical genius, a capable handler, and someone who honestly scares most every other person in Orion."

{From behind the helmet it almost feels like an apology.}

"I know that's not the answer you want but..."

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

"As much as I want to tell the liberators to get the hell off our station... Pissing off Union isn't the move right now. I know we're chomping at the bit for our next big contract our next boom in hiring."

{Glacier stares at the Handlers in attendence}

"I'd take it up with your Handlers if you think they're being too stingy with contracts... But... Speak up and voice yourselves. We aren't under Haven or Aimee anymore."

[one-last-stand]

So.

so the plan is wait?

the plan is fucking nothing like you’ve been doing for past few months?

the whole reason Union is here at all is because Morse turned us in and she didn't kill it when she should have.

it's a threat to union fine. but then fucking use it. no one here doubts the effectiveness of it's slaughter. [Jawbreaker refuses to look at Signal as it talks] nor the efficacy of it's.. handling.

i've got myself sorted. i should have my boots on the ground i shouldn't fucking be here, but like you said we're dogs of war. why are you so fucking afraid of it?

im not saying we go punch a liberator right now but why the fuck are they still on our station? our station.

i don't know if you've heard the talk outside of your medbay Director but CORSAIRS are waiting for the order to attack, you're on the throne now and it's been awfully fuckin quiet.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

CMC High Command Meeting

OOC: So Imma place all the premise and shite above the cut and below that is where this'll open up. Any and all CORSAIR personnel can get involved in this. This narrativey is to set up some reworks to the CORSAIR combat structure and other fun stuff but is also to let people have their mercenaries yell at eachother pointlessly.

This will probably break into several subthreads so if it's getting long we'll have to make sure to break it into another post just for our sanity sake.

{The director remains seated at the head of the old meeting hall. Built like a senate chamber more than just a meeting space. She's in her hardsuit though the prosthetic synthetic ivory pegleg and manual;y actuated synthetic ivory hand are both visible. Other staff members take their seats. Head of Gruntworks, Head of Shipping, Head of the Postal Service, Head of Gunnery, so on so forth. An actual physical slide projector projects on one wall one simple question. "How do we adapt to large scale combat?"}

{While there are several reasons for this meeting the first topic is clear. And the subtext of their foe in question even more obvious.}

[flambergesquad]

The impact of wood on metal heralds the arrival of Handler HAM well before the doors to the hall slide open, the barrel-shaped man striding in with all the inertia of a main battle tank, favoring his cane-supported leg more than usual. As per the norm for the eccentric, he is meticulously groomed, hair slicked back and mustache expertly curled into a handlebar shape, beard twined into a voluminous braid as he takes a seat a respectful distance away from other forming groups and rests his cane against the table.

"Terribly sorry for the delay, Director, old wounds acting up. The pressure equalizers in Deck 56C are kaput, I tell you."

He reached down, pressing on his thigh briefly with a flicker of a grimace.

"Regardless, hello!"

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Standing at the slide projector, Deuces' fanged mouth already forms a grimace. Their large ocular implants adjust to put the man in focus before returning to their previous focus.}

{The well dressed, exhausted, coffee drinker, scratches twice at the plastic that has replaced their skin on the entire upper half of their head (excluding where a blue Mohawk comes from the top.}

"Your delay is noted. Others are still missing. Take a seat Handler"

{Dry tone as always.}

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Glacier gives the Signal to Deuces to start. Lights in the room go out and the projector fully kicks on, illuminating the massive screen with the CMC Logo. Glacier stands her silhouette barely visible}

"CORSAIRs. My allies. My people. My comrades. I've asked you all here today for several reasons. We have a business offer unlike anything we've had in decades... Not since the first time we went to Voscom, fighting in the Mercenary war. We have new projects being worked on. We are truly rebuilding after the 30 hours. My predecessor... was ultimately soft in her rebuilding. Tried to steer us away from what we are. War dogs."

{Glacier lets her words sink into the room before continuing.}

"And now unlike both of my predecessors we have a chance to do something that we were unable to do before. Adapt. And learn. Callsign Telescope has put together the start of a potential program to reduce our losses of Blooded Pilots and prevent the crippling of our forces in communication blackouts. I've asked Handler Carrier to start the drafting of new doctrines for larger scale conflicts."

{She sighs... there's a tired air in how she conducts herself.... like she should be resting in the medical ward instead of conducting a meeting like this. But still the Ghost stands.}

"But before any of that gets addressed I've asked several members of every department here. I've asked pilots. Ground troops. S.O.Gs. Janitors. Support Staff. Medical. Everyone.... We need to sort out our issues. Stop letting them bind us. So yes... that does mean Callsign Signal is here for that reason too. Before anyone tries or asks anything I won't sign off on an execution here and now."

{Glacier claps her hands together and the lights turn back on. She sits back down shoulders slumped.}

"Yggy if you would"

+The Floor is now Open.+

[one-last-stand]

so no one is gonna talk?

i don't wanna be here. i don't think our director does either.

but i have a question for you Glacier, and for high council

i know i sure as hell don't speak just for myself when i ask what the fuck are y'all planning to do about Union.

what's the plan here Director, you insist on saying it's a bargaining chip but i don't see any bargaining.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

CMC High Command Meeting

OOC: So Imma place all the premise and shite above the cut and below that is where this'll open up. Any and all CORSAIR personnel can get involved in this. This narrativey is to set up some reworks to the CORSAIR combat structure and other fun stuff but is also to let people have their mercenaries yell at eachother pointlessly.

This will probably break into several subthreads so if it's getting long we'll have to make sure to break it into another post just for our sanity sake.

{The director remains seated at the head of the old meeting hall. Built like a senate chamber more than just a meeting space. She's in her hardsuit though the prosthetic synthetic ivory pegleg and manual;y actuated synthetic ivory hand are both visible. Other staff members take their seats. Head of Gruntworks, Head of Shipping, Head of the Postal Service, Head of Gunnery, so on so forth. An actual physical slide projector projects on one wall one simple question. "How do we adapt to large scale combat?"}

{While there are several reasons for this meeting the first topic is clear. And the subtext of their foe in question even more obvious.}

[flambergesquad]

The impact of wood on metal heralds the arrival of Handler HAM well before the doors to the hall slide open, the barrel-shaped man striding in with all the inertia of a main battle tank, favoring his cane-supported leg more than usual. As per the norm for the eccentric, he is meticulously groomed, hair slicked back and mustache expertly curled into a handlebar shape, beard twined into a voluminous braid as he takes a seat a respectful distance away from other forming groups and rests his cane against the table.

"Terribly sorry for the delay, Director, old wounds acting up. The pressure equalizers in Deck 56C are kaput, I tell you."

He reached down, pressing on his thigh briefly with a flicker of a grimace.

"Regardless, hello!"

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Standing at the slide projector, Deuces' fanged mouth already forms a grimace. Their large ocular implants adjust to put the man in focus before returning to their previous focus.}

{The well dressed, exhausted, coffee drinker, scratches twice at the plastic that has replaced their skin on the entire upper half of their head (excluding where a blue Mohawk comes from the top.}

"Your delay is noted. Others are still missing. Take a seat Handler"

{Dry tone as always.}

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

{Glacier gives the Signal to Deuces to start. Lights in the room go out and the projector fully kicks on, illuminating the massive screen with the CMC Logo. Glacier stands her silhouette barely visible}

"CORSAIRs. My allies. My people. My comrades. I've asked you all here today for several reasons. We have a business offer unlike anything we've had in decades... Not since the first time we went to Voscom, fighting in the Mercenary war. We have new projects being worked on. We are truly rebuilding after the 30 hours. My predecessor... was ultimately soft in her rebuilding. Tried to steer us away from what we are. War dogs."

{Glacier lets her words sink into the room before continuing.}

"And now unlike both of my predecessors we have a chance to do something that we were unable to do before. Adapt. And learn. Callsign Telescope has put together the start of a potential program to reduce our losses of Blooded Pilots and prevent the crippling of our forces in communication blackouts. I've asked Handler Carrier to start the drafting of new doctrines for larger scale conflicts."

{She sighs... there's a tired air in how she conducts herself.... like she should be resting in the medical ward instead of conducting a meeting like this. But still the Ghost stands.}

"But before any of that gets addressed I've asked several members of every department here. I've asked pilots. Ground troops. S.O.Gs. Janitors. Support Staff. Medical. Everyone.... We need to sort out our issues. Stop letting them bind us. So yes... that does mean Callsign Signal is here for that reason too. Before anyone tries or asks anything I won't sign off on an execution here and now."

{Glacier claps her hands together and the lights turn back on. She sits back down shoulders slumped.}

"Yggy if you would"

+The Floor is now Open.+

[one-last-stand]

[jawbreaker rolls her eyes at the execution comment] “i wasn’t gonna say anything”

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

CMC High Command Meeting

OOC: So Imma place all the premise and shite above the cut and below that is where this'll open up. Any and all CORSAIR personnel can get involved in this. This narrativey is to set up some reworks to the CORSAIR combat structure and other fun stuff but is also to let people have their mercenaries yell at eachother pointlessly.

This will probably break into several subthreads so if it's getting long we'll have to make sure to break it into another post just for our sanity sake.

{The director remains seated at the head of the old meeting hall. Built like a senate chamber more than just a meeting space. She's in her hardsuit though the prosthetic synthetic ivory pegleg and manual;y actuated synthetic ivory hand are both visible. Other staff members take their seats. Head of Gruntworks, Head of Shipping, Head of the Postal Service, Head of Gunnery, so on so forth. An actual physical slide projector projects on one wall one simple question. "How do we adapt to large scale combat?"}

{While there are several reasons for this meeting the first topic is clear. And the subtext of their foe in question even more obvious.}

[designation-ward]

Ward is seated near the outer edge of the room, closer to one of the entrances. This is the first time he's been seen in a reasonably public setting since the trial, and he's far less stable now than he was then.

The coat he approximates wearing is barely textured, like a poorly rendered sprite: a plane of solid black without shade or shadow. The rest of this body is similar, save for the face: it both looks the same, and as though it's aged decades in years.

He has little to contribute to this meeting, but he knows it will change CORSAIR yet again. That's the one thing making him pull himself together.

[tragedy-of-the-dreamer]

[CB has pulled its wheelchair up to the table, having shuffled one of the chairs away to make room. Its single, functioning hand prosthetic appears to be fully repaired, and the arrangement of gears, springs, and bronze laid out before it on the table appears to be its other hand. It quietly works at reassembling the prosthetic, attention split between the delicate work and the slideshow.]

[CB looks to be worlds more healed than the last time it made an appearance, its robes neat and its mask polished to a gleam. Its movements are delicate and tentative, though, obviously painful as it strains the extensive burn wounds across its body.]

[Aloysius’ projection is nowhere to be found, but that’s not uncommon. Given how CB’s eyes keep darting to the empty air at its side, he’s probably still present.]

//CHOIR BOY\\

[or-is-it-smoke]

Vestige stands behind Choir Boy, his arms hanging firmly at his sides. His stance is fully upright, not fidgeting or even moving at all. His chest does not rise and fall. It's unnerving.

The myriad of lenses across his helm dart across the room. A few seem to be trained in specific directions, most notably at particularly important figures. One appears to be staring into the pocket of empty air that Choir Boy seems to train on occasionally.

[center-sparkling-stage]

[ It is starting to look like all of Dadao may to some extent, be in attendance. Maybe they were invited as a unit; squeaky cogs in the mechanism of CORSAIR, here to speak on what might serve as oil. ]

[ Whatever the reasoning, Sparkler is here too. They stand more to Choir Boy's side, fiddling with something or another to keep their hands busy, occasionally looking around and beaming brightly whenever catching someone's eye. They're customarily brightly dressed, maybe a little taller than people expect- just short of 6'0 foot flat, pushed over the bar by thick-soled shoes ]

[ There are bags under their eyes largely hidden by bright and sparkly makeup, and their shoulders are a touch stiff. They seem politely wary beneath the pop-star veneer ]

// SPARKLER \\

[butsodobirds]

{Signal arrives without fanfare nor escort. Silent footsteps as it almost glides through doors, and along the floor to stand behind the Director.}

{Mechanical eyes watch carefully for any sudden movements, it's ready to protect itself from any attempts on it's life.}

[one-last-stand]

[an older woman is rolled in on a wheelchair. Its skin is dark brown and sunbeaten, its face covered in a myriad of scars marking memories of burns and cuts and shrapnel. If one stares too long at its eyes they seem to have a veritable kaleidoscope of colour, and the left eye seems partially blind.]

[Jawbreaker’s grey hair is hidden underneath a hijab coloured CORSAIR blue. It wears a black abaya that drapes across its body, outlines of medical wrapping can be seen around its chest.]

[Connected to the nasal tube running into its nose is an oxygen machine that beeps steadily.] [The machine, trailing behind, is pushed into the room by a tall severe looking woman in a dark grey pantsuit with a stunningly blue iris pinned to the jacket. Those who know her would recognize her as Handler LEO.]

[After Jawbreaker has taken its place at the table LEO whispers something in its ear and promptly leaves the room without another word.]

[Jawbreakers eyes quickly find Khione and then Signal, upon whom its eyes rest.]

[butsodobirds]

It's funny, how many people who cheered for your downfall (wasn't I one of them) are just... resigned, now. Or they respect you. Bit of a whiplash.

I dunno. When I first heard of CORSAIR I thought they were (all fun and games (until someone gets hurt)) on the right track with things, wished them well on their way to kill you, hated you because my (loves) friends did. But now all they have to show for it is more dead.

I think I'm just (a professional mourner) spinning my wheels, really. Guess I wonder how else it could have gone (if you would choose this life again).

It is a question I have thought about many times. I could have gone home. Heard the birds, rested, played with my decedents in cool waters.

But the great game calls. I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Even losing Heliophobia again, and suffering at the hands of my Co-Pilot. A life full of regrets will only distract me from my work.

For what little my words are worth, my condolences for those you lost. Both at the hands of those who listen to me, and for any I murdered with my own two hands.

[one-last-stand]

don’t worry some of us still think you’re scum Signal.

i don’t know why the director can’t see it. it’s a thing that kills because it wants to, because it get sick pleasure out of treating Corsair lives as pieces they can take off the board.

it could have stopped. it could have gone back. it wanted to do what it did. it wanted to slaughter and maim and burn and destroy. it will do it again if given the chance.

it would laugh with each crack of her bones the second time around Glacier.

Signal is a ruined thing. like an animal willing to sprint on already broken legs.

you can still put it down Director.

[butsodobirds]

Tell me this pilot. What drives you to kill me so much. Is it what I did to Aimee? My crimes against fellow pilots? Queens Pardon? What is the insult that drives your hate for me? I'm curious. After all. I should know why you want me gone so bad.

Don't give me the usual excuses either. Why do You want me gone?

[one-last-stand]

i don't owe you shit conal

but fine. you wanna know why I hate you? why i think you need to be put down like the limping corpse you are?

mercy.

it is too often you treat killing as if it's a mercy. the 10 staff you killed you treated it like it was a mercy. their brains were breaking because you went off and provoked Opium, they were there because of you and died because of you and when you snapped their necks you thought it mercy.

i know you're not the only one who's killed Corsairs. fuck the 30 hours war. but one thing i have never done is offer condolences to someone and in the same breath say you have no regrets. you can't pretend like you're sorry for taking their lives, you don't even know which lives.

when i am cleared to fire the weapon i am made to fire, someone will die. another living person goes from alive to meat burning inside metal. every chance to a pile of thing that will never be anything else. i never pretend to feel pity for mess i have made. you call it mercy or vengeance or a game.

that's why i hate you conal. among a million other fucking things. you call your killing mercy.

[butsodobirds]

{There's a soft laughter that comes through the recording.}

The root of your anger. You sound like Haven Kendrick herself. Before she lost herself to that foolish hunt completely. You're a true CORSAIR. No mercy. No remorse.

You'll serve the company well. Glacier's lucky to have a pilot like you. So is your Handler. We're both dogs of war in the end. Different wars, but dogs all the same.

When true war comes again... you'll do alright.

Keep hating me Jawbreaker. It'll keep you sharp.

[one-last-stand]

Fuck You conal.

i hope when we kill you for the 5th, 6th, however many deaths it takes. i hope you finally fucking die you burns in flames hotter than Hercynia with your fucking Queen.

i won't have a corpse telling me what CORSAIR means. i'll scratch your name from the Book myself. i hope your kids die and never know your name.

my hatred of you is mine. im going to see you dead one day.

[butsodobirds]

You have one thing wrong. Haven never held my leash.

I look forward to the day you come to kill me. You'll know when you're ready.

[butsodobirds]

It's funny, how many people who cheered for your downfall (wasn't I one of them) are just... resigned, now. Or they respect you. Bit of a whiplash.

I dunno. When I first heard of CORSAIR I thought they were (all fun and games (until someone gets hurt)) on the right track with things, wished them well on their way to kill you, hated you because my (loves) friends did. But now all they have to show for it is more dead.

I think I'm just (a professional mourner) spinning my wheels, really. Guess I wonder how else it could have gone (if you would choose this life again).

It is a question I have thought about many times. I could have gone home. Heard the birds, rested, played with my decedents in cool waters.

But the great game calls. I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Even losing Heliophobia again, and suffering at the hands of my Co-Pilot. A life full of regrets will only distract me from my work.

For what little my words are worth, my condolences for those you lost. Both at the hands of those who listen to me, and for any I murdered with my own two hands.

[one-last-stand]

don’t worry some of us still think you’re scum Signal.

i don’t know why the director can’t see it. it’s a thing that kills because it wants to, because it get sick pleasure out of treating Corsair lives as pieces they can take off the board.

it could have stopped. it could have gone back. it wanted to do what it did. it wanted to slaughter and maim and burn and destroy. it will do it again if given the chance.

it would laugh with each crack of her bones the second time around Glacier.

Signal is a ruined thing. like an animal willing to sprint on already broken legs.

you can still put it down Director.

[staring-into-the-black]

Really? That's all you see?

I get that not everyone can see what I see, but fucking hell it's not like it's that hard to see that it doesn't just kill on a whim.

Signal is brutal, vengeful, and petty.

People like that don't kill because they enjoy it. They kill because they feel they've been wronged, or someone they care about has been wronged.

Signal has the best survivorship record out of all of our handlers. Signal can mold the most broken and lost unbloods into some of our best pilots.

And Signal is old.

Yeah. It fucks with our heads like a sick game, every handler has their vice. But some of our best were found and shaped by it.

It's a CORSAIR like the rest of us, and the results speak for themselves.

Right now? Wounded as we are?

We need it.

-Telescope

[one-last-stand]

it's not a CORSAIR don't fucking call it one.

it's a thing we should have never let back into our Book. It's a corpse that still walks and i'll take a bat to it's rotten chest.

it brough CORSAIR to our knees in front of Union because Morse was too broken to fucking lower that gun.

i don't give a shit how intentional it's kills are. it revels in taking life. i don't care how it justifies itself or with how much grace it slaughters another CORSAIR.

if you wanna use it like a tool it's a rusty nail stuck in our foot. it doesnt matter how skillfully it pushes through our skin or brings forth new glorious strains of infection. it's still a fucking nail. it's still gonna rot us from the inside.

it's not a CORSAIR it's a thing that needs to die and im sorry you're too blinded by fascination to see it Telescope.

[staring-into-the-black]

You do not decide who is and is not a CORSAIR. You'd do best to remember that.

And it is not fascination that causes me to defend it.

We are so surrounded by death that we forget the value of saving lives.

We forget that every op where we get to come back to Tenacity is a successful op.

And Signal's squads have the highest success rate by that metric.

It doesn't just kill CORSAIRS, it saves them too.

And as a mercenary enclave, we live or die by our ability to successfully export our capacity for violence.

Fuck the 30 hours war, and I will not sit idly by while I hear voices calling for the blood of our own again.

And I hope I'm not the first to tell you that what Signal did to Morse was personal.

I don't agree with how signal went about it, but Morse not only turned Heliophobia, Signal's ghost, against it, but also got them killed.

And if you know what I know about both of them, what Siggy did makes a lot more sense.

I abhor what Signal did. But Morse wasn't much better.

-Telescope

[one-last-stand]

what fucking high horse are you on.

you sound like STABBY's replacement talking about success rates and exporting capacity like it didnt kill your fellow CORSAIRS.

we don't need it. we don't need anything like it. it is not a CORSAIR and i know you sure as shit don't get to tell me it is.

"went about it". went about it! you mean breaking every fucking bone it could without killing her you apathetic fuck! it's not a matter of raw numbers it's the shrapnel in her spine and the blood on it's hands and the hardsuit fucking full of it!

you claim to hate conal but you seem sure as fuck willing to defend it's actions. defend crippling what CORSAIR was supposed to stand for. shut the fuck up about defining what a CORSAIR is if you think the former ghost of Haven's right hand is anything close to a true CORSAIR.

i don't give two fucks about what sob story it's got to tell. Morse is a different fucking story. fuck this.

if you wanna spend your time defending a thing that has turned so many CORSAIRS into pictures fucking go ahead. i hope you're soon forgotten when it gets through those defences.

[staring-into-the-black]

My job is to pull other CORSAIRs out of the fire.

My job is to make sure that when shit does go sideways, and people get captured, THEY COME HOME!

I frankly don't give a rats ass about the war or frankly, anyone who fought in it. You know why?

Because the number of CORSAIRs who died in the fighting was nothing compared to the numbers we lost because of the resulting coms blackout.

it was a war that never should have fucking happened. You know why I agree with what Glacier is doing?

She's tossing all of that fucking bullshit to the wind where it fucking belongs.

Fuck Commodore,

Fuck Morse,

Fuck the grudges,

And fuck that stupid war,

And fuck Queen's Pardon!

There's more at stake here than all y'all's petty fucking grudges.

Because you don't get in The Book without leaving a pile of fucking bodies in your wake.

-Telescope

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

Both of you that's enough. We don't need more pilots getting into fights. Telescope go take a walk. Jawbreaker go get yourself a drink. I don't care if I'm not a Handler to either of you just do it. You can fight later. Let's avoid this shit when we've got Union's Finest onboard.

You two can hash this out at the meeting.

And Jawbreaker if your handler has a problem tell em to shoot me a message. Fights over.

Christ the Buddha.

//Telegram\\

[one-last-stand]

fucking fine.

tell Telescope to shut his fucking mouth about The Book will you?

fine. LEO won't have a problem.

im tired of this shit.

[butsodobirds]

It's funny, how many people who cheered for your downfall (wasn't I one of them) are just... resigned, now. Or they respect you. Bit of a whiplash.

I dunno. When I first heard of CORSAIR I thought they were (all fun and games (until someone gets hurt)) on the right track with things, wished them well on their way to kill you, hated you because my (loves) friends did. But now all they have to show for it is more dead.

I think I'm just (a professional mourner) spinning my wheels, really. Guess I wonder how else it could have gone (if you would choose this life again).

It is a question I have thought about many times. I could have gone home. Heard the birds, rested, played with my decedents in cool waters.

But the great game calls. I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Even losing Heliophobia again, and suffering at the hands of my Co-Pilot. A life full of regrets will only distract me from my work.

For what little my words are worth, my condolences for those you lost. Both at the hands of those who listen to me, and for any I murdered with my own two hands.

[one-last-stand]

don’t worry some of us still think you’re scum Signal.

i don’t know why the director can’t see it. it’s a thing that kills because it wants to, because it get sick pleasure out of treating Corsair lives as pieces they can take off the board.

it could have stopped. it could have gone back. it wanted to do what it did. it wanted to slaughter and maim and burn and destroy. it will do it again if given the chance.

it would laugh with each crack of her bones the second time around Glacier.

Signal is a ruined thing. like an animal willing to sprint on already broken legs.

you can still put it down Director.

[staring-into-the-black]

Really? That's all you see?

I get that not everyone can see what I see, but fucking hell it's not like it's that hard to see that it doesn't just kill on a whim.

Signal is brutal, vengeful, and petty.

People like that don't kill because they enjoy it. They kill because they feel they've been wronged, or someone they care about has been wronged.

Signal has the best survivorship record out of all of our handlers. Signal can mold the most broken and lost unbloods into some of our best pilots.

And Signal is old.

Yeah. It fucks with our heads like a sick game, every handler has their vice. But some of our best were found and shaped by it.

It's a CORSAIR like the rest of us, and the results speak for themselves.

Right now? Wounded as we are?

We need it.

-Telescope

[one-last-stand]

it's not a CORSAIR don't fucking call it one.

it's a thing we should have never let back into our Book. It's a corpse that still walks and i'll take a bat to it's rotten chest.

it brough CORSAIR to our knees in front of Union because Morse was too broken to fucking lower that gun.

i don't give a shit how intentional it's kills are. it revels in taking life. i don't care how it justifies itself or with how much grace it slaughters another CORSAIR.

if you wanna use it like a tool it's a rusty nail stuck in our foot. it doesnt matter how skillfully it pushes through our skin or brings forth new glorious strains of infection. it's still a fucking nail. it's still gonna rot us from the inside.

it's not a CORSAIR it's a thing that needs to die and im sorry you're too blinded by fascination to see it Telescope.

[staring-into-the-black]

You do not decide who is and is not a CORSAIR. You'd do best to remember that.

And it is not fascination that causes me to defend it.

We are so surrounded by death that we forget the value of saving lives.

We forget that every op where we get to come back to Tenacity is a successful op.

And Signal's squads have the highest success rate by that metric.

It doesn't just kill CORSAIRS, it saves them too.

And as a mercenary enclave, we live or die by our ability to successfully export our capacity for violence.

Fuck the 30 hours war, and I will not sit idly by while I hear voices calling for the blood of our own again.

And I hope I'm not the first to tell you that what Signal did to Morse was personal.

I don't agree with how signal went about it, but Morse not only turned Heliophobia, Signal's ghost, against it, but also got them killed.

And if you know what I know about both of them, what Siggy did makes a lot more sense.

I abhor what Signal did. But Morse wasn't much better.

-Telescope

[one-last-stand]

what fucking high horse are you on.

you sound like STABBY's replacement talking about success rates and exporting capacity like it didnt kill your fellow CORSAIRS.

we don't need it. we don't need anything like it. it is not a CORSAIR and i know you sure as shit don't get to tell me it is.

"went about it". went about it! you mean breaking every fucking bone it could without killing her you apathetic fuck! it's not a matter of raw numbers it's the shrapnel in her spine and the blood on it's hands and the hardsuit fucking full of it!

you claim to hate conal but you seem sure as fuck willing to defend it's actions. defend crippling what CORSAIR was supposed to stand for. shut the fuck up about defining what a CORSAIR is if you think the former ghost of Haven's right hand is anything close to a true CORSAIR.

i don't give two fucks about what sob story it's got to tell. Morse is a different fucking story. fuck this.

if you wanna spend your time defending a thing that has turned so many CORSAIRS into pictures fucking go ahead. i hope you're soon forgotten when it gets through those defences.

[butsodobirds]

It's funny, how many people who cheered for your downfall (wasn't I one of them) are just... resigned, now. Or they respect you. Bit of a whiplash.

I dunno. When I first heard of CORSAIR I thought they were (all fun and games (until someone gets hurt)) on the right track with things, wished them well on their way to kill you, hated you because my (loves) friends did. But now all they have to show for it is more dead.

I think I'm just (a professional mourner) spinning my wheels, really. Guess I wonder how else it could have gone (if you would choose this life again).

It is a question I have thought about many times. I could have gone home. Heard the birds, rested, played with my decedents in cool waters.

But the great game calls. I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Even losing Heliophobia again, and suffering at the hands of my Co-Pilot. A life full of regrets will only distract me from my work.

For what little my words are worth, my condolences for those you lost. Both at the hands of those who listen to me, and for any I murdered with my own two hands.

[one-last-stand]

don’t worry some of us still think you’re scum Signal.

i don’t know why the director can’t see it. it’s a thing that kills because it wants to, because it get sick pleasure out of treating Corsair lives as pieces they can take off the board.

it could have stopped. it could have gone back. it wanted to do what it did. it wanted to slaughter and maim and burn and destroy. it will do it again if given the chance.

it would laugh with each crack of her bones the second time around Glacier.

Signal is a ruined thing. like an animal willing to sprint on already broken legs.

you can still put it down Director.

[butsodobirds]

Tell me this pilot. What drives you to kill me so much. Is it what I did to Aimee? My crimes against fellow pilots? Queens Pardon? What is the insult that drives your hate for me? I'm curious. After all. I should know why you want me gone so bad.

Don't give me the usual excuses either. Why do You want me gone?

[one-last-stand]

i don't owe you shit conal

but fine. you wanna know why I hate you? why i think you need to be put down like the limping corpse you are?

mercy.

it is too often you treat killing as if it's a mercy. the 10 staff you killed you treated it like it was a mercy. their brains were breaking because you went off and provoked Opium, they were there because of you and died because of you and when you snapped their necks you thought it mercy.

i know you're not the only one who's killed Corsairs. fuck the 30 hours war. but one thing i have never done is offer condolences to someone and in the same breath say you have no regrets. you can't pretend like you're sorry for taking their lives, you don't even know which lives.

when i am cleared to fire the weapon i am made to fire, someone will die. another living person goes from alive to meat burning inside metal. every chance to a pile of thing that will never be anything else. i never pretend to feel pity for mess i have made. you call it mercy or vengeance or a game.

that's why i hate you conal. among a million other fucking things. you call your killing mercy.

[butsodobirds]

{There's a soft laughter that comes through the recording.}

The root of your anger. You sound like Haven Kendrick herself. Before she lost herself to that foolish hunt completely. You're a true CORSAIR. No mercy. No remorse.

You'll serve the company well. Glacier's lucky to have a pilot like you. So is your Handler. We're both dogs of war in the end. Different wars, but dogs all the same.

When true war comes again... you'll do alright.

Keep hating me Jawbreaker. It'll keep you sharp.

[one-last-stand]

Fuck You conal.

i hope when we kill you for the 5th, 6th, however many deaths it takes. i hope you finally fucking die you burns in flames hotter than Hercynia with your fucking Queen.

i won't have a corpse telling me what CORSAIR means. i'll scratch your name from the Book myself. i hope your kids die and never know your name.

my hatred of you is mine. im going to see you dead one day.

[butsodobirds]

It's funny, how many people who cheered for your downfall (wasn't I one of them) are just... resigned, now. Or they respect you. Bit of a whiplash.

I dunno. When I first heard of CORSAIR I thought they were (all fun and games (until someone gets hurt)) on the right track with things, wished them well on their way to kill you, hated you because my (loves) friends did. But now all they have to show for it is more dead.

I think I'm just (a professional mourner) spinning my wheels, really. Guess I wonder how else it could have gone (if you would choose this life again).

It is a question I have thought about many times. I could have gone home. Heard the birds, rested, played with my decedents in cool waters.

But the great game calls. I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Even losing Heliophobia again, and suffering at the hands of my Co-Pilot. A life full of regrets will only distract me from my work.

For what little my words are worth, my condolences for those you lost. Both at the hands of those who listen to me, and for any I murdered with my own two hands.

[one-last-stand]

don’t worry some of us still think you’re scum Signal.

i don’t know why the director can’t see it. it’s a thing that kills because it wants to, because it get sick pleasure out of treating Corsair lives as pieces they can take off the board.

it could have stopped. it could have gone back. it wanted to do what it did. it wanted to slaughter and maim and burn and destroy. it will do it again if given the chance.

it would laugh with each crack of her bones the second time around Glacier.

Signal is a ruined thing. like an animal willing to sprint on already broken legs.

you can still put it down Director.

[staring-into-the-black]

Really? That's all you see?

I get that not everyone can see what I see, but fucking hell it's not like it's that hard to see that it doesn't just kill on a whim.

Signal is brutal, vengeful, and petty.

People like that don't kill because they enjoy it. They kill because they feel they've been wronged, or someone they care about has been wronged.

Signal has the best survivorship record out of all of our handlers. Signal can mold the most broken and lost unbloods into some of our best pilots.

And Signal is old.

Yeah. It fucks with our heads like a sick game, every handler has their vice. But some of our best were found and shaped by it.

It's a CORSAIR like the rest of us, and the results speak for themselves.

Right now? Wounded as we are?

We need it.

-Telescope

[one-last-stand]

it's not a CORSAIR don't fucking call it one.

it's a thing we should have never let back into our Book. It's a corpse that still walks and i'll take a bat to it's rotten chest.

it brough CORSAIR to our knees in front of Union because Morse was too broken to fucking lower that gun.

i don't give a shit how intentional it's kills are. it revels in taking life. i don't care how it justifies itself or with how much grace it slaughters another CORSAIR.

if you wanna use it like a tool it's a rusty nail stuck in our foot. it doesnt matter how skillfully it pushes through our skin or brings forth new glorious strains of infection. it's still a fucking nail. it's still gonna rot us from the inside.

it's not a CORSAIR it's a thing that needs to die and im sorry you're too blinded by fascination to see it Telescope.

[butsodobirds]

It's funny, how many people who cheered for your downfall (wasn't I one of them) are just... resigned, now. Or they respect you. Bit of a whiplash.

I dunno. When I first heard of CORSAIR I thought they were (all fun and games (until someone gets hurt)) on the right track with things, wished them well on their way to kill you, hated you because my (loves) friends did. But now all they have to show for it is more dead.

I think I'm just (a professional mourner) spinning my wheels, really. Guess I wonder how else it could have gone (if you would choose this life again).

It is a question I have thought about many times. I could have gone home. Heard the birds, rested, played with my decedents in cool waters.

But the great game calls. I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Even losing Heliophobia again, and suffering at the hands of my Co-Pilot. A life full of regrets will only distract me from my work.

For what little my words are worth, my condolences for those you lost. Both at the hands of those who listen to me, and for any I murdered with my own two hands.

[one-last-stand]

don’t worry some of us still think you’re scum Signal.

i don’t know why the director can’t see it. it’s a thing that kills because it wants to, because it get sick pleasure out of treating Corsair lives as pieces they can take off the board.

it could have stopped. it could have gone back. it wanted to do what it did. it wanted to slaughter and maim and burn and destroy. it will do it again if given the chance.

it would laugh with each crack of her bones the second time around Glacier.

Signal is a ruined thing. like an animal willing to sprint on already broken legs.

you can still put it down Director.

[butsodobirds]

Tell me this pilot. What drives you to kill me so much. Is it what I did to Aimee? My crimes against fellow pilots? Queens Pardon? What is the insult that drives your hate for me? I'm curious. After all. I should know why you want me gone so bad.

Don't give me the usual excuses either. Why do You want me gone?

[one-last-stand]

i don't owe you shit conal

but fine. you wanna know why I hate you? why i think you need to be put down like the limping corpse you are?

mercy.

it is too often you treat killing as if it's a mercy. the 10 staff you killed you treated it like it was a mercy. their brains were breaking because you went off and provoked Opium, they were there because of you and died because of you and when you snapped their necks you thought it mercy.

i know you're not the only one who's killed Corsairs. fuck the 30 hours war. but one thing i have never done is offer condolences to someone and in the same breath say you have no regrets. you can't pretend like you're sorry for taking their lives, you don't even know which lives.

when i am cleared to fire the weapon i am made to fire, someone will die. another living person goes from alive to meat burning inside metal. every chance to a pile of thing that will never be anything else. i never pretend to feel pity for mess i have made. you call it mercy or vengeance or a game.

that's why i hate you conal. among a million other fucking things. you call your killing mercy.

[butsodobirds]

It's funny, how many people who cheered for your downfall (wasn't I one of them) are just... resigned, now. Or they respect you. Bit of a whiplash.

I dunno. When I first heard of CORSAIR I thought they were (all fun and games (until someone gets hurt)) on the right track with things, wished them well on their way to kill you, hated you because my (loves) friends did. But now all they have to show for it is more dead.

I think I'm just (a professional mourner) spinning my wheels, really. Guess I wonder how else it could have gone (if you would choose this life again).

It is a question I have thought about many times. I could have gone home. Heard the birds, rested, played with my decedents in cool waters.

But the great game calls. I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Even losing Heliophobia again, and suffering at the hands of my Co-Pilot. A life full of regrets will only distract me from my work.

For what little my words are worth, my condolences for those you lost. Both at the hands of those who listen to me, and for any I murdered with my own two hands.

[one-last-stand]

don’t worry some of us still think you’re scum Signal.

i don’t know why the director can’t see it. it’s a thing that kills because it wants to, because it get sick pleasure out of treating Corsair lives as pieces they can take off the board.

it could have stopped. it could have gone back. it wanted to do what it did. it wanted to slaughter and maim and burn and destroy. it will do it again if given the chance.

it would laugh with each crack of her bones the second time around Glacier.

Signal is a ruined thing. like an animal willing to sprint on already broken legs.

you can still put it down Director.

[butsodobirds]

[Begin Security Footage Playback]

{Signal sits quietly in their room, book in hand until the door opens. A pristine blue hardsuit with white accents, pursuit model, left arm and leg limp, the rest of the body leaning against the doorframe.}

"Hope you don't mind the suit Signal. Feels only right, helmet to helmet, pilot to pilot. You uh... mind if I take a seat?"

{Signal's head cocks to the side as it gestures with both hands to the table.}

"Director. Go ahead."

{Glacier begins to hobble towards the table, cane in her good hand, she leans on it heavily and sits down with a long sigh}

"Now before you think to try anything, not that I think you will, you should know my Ghost is waiting outside. Sure she probably won't kill you but well. An injured Külmking won't be hard to finish off... pardon my butchery of the word."

"That old nickname? From before..."

"Shocked are you Signal? You'd be surprised what I can find, what a ghost can find when she's brought back to the light. But I'm not here to threaten you, nor try and control you like Deuces did."

{Glacier's surviving hand waves off both ideas like fools errands.}

"No. I want CORSAIRs own Soul Devouring Spirit to help me. I'll play your game Signal. I'll play it fairly even."

"And you expect me to take this deal with no reward?"

{Signal straightens it's spine slightly, still hunched like a crow picking at a corpse.}

{Glacier leans on the stump of her arm, just below the elbow, the hardsuit folding breaking the illusion fully. The pair, their eyes now level.}

"Far from it Signal. I won't pardon you. Besides it's not like you're safe in Union space, I need my reason to keep you safe and sound here in the Tenacity. No I'll give you a bit more freedom, more information at the greater things at play. Let you play a little off the books."

{A low rumble that could pass for a laugh from the ancient Mercenary, glowing mechanical eyes crinkling just a little.}

"If I accept... won't you be hated?"

{Signal sounded almost... concerned.}

"Aren't you just sweet, I don't want to be loved Signal. Respected is what I want. They'll see your usefulness eventually. That you're better off alive and helping us than rotting with Union. As if I'd hand you off to the colonizers."

"What's my first task then."

"I've got a meeting coming up... I'll need your voice there, your insights.... CORSAIR has rot that needs clearing. After all, war is hard on the body, and we need more than just our spirit to win."

{Glacier leans back for a moment, she seems oddly comfortable even missing her limbs.}

"Before you complain I can promise your safety... I don't want our shadow under the boat getting fished out after all."

"Morse picked a shrewd ghost."

{Glacier's shoulders slump, her voice... disappointed.}

"Let's not talk about Aimee.. I don't want to think about her right now."

[Ending Playback]

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

It's late here.... well as late things can be on a station without a star dictating day and night. Round the clock life here on the Tenacity. I've been thinking...

Almost time for my fight with Choir Boy.

Thinking about combat in general. Three Candles Deep. The spark that set our little war off. Blowing a Harrison ship to kingdom come. We lost a good Pilot. He always had a strong compass in him... By the time the point of that mission had settled in and things went to normal... Creighton decided to flip the story, paint us villains, paint us monsters for what we did.

And then came knocking with a declaration. Commodore tightens her grip. We throw a spar between squads of ours and MSMC for morale. And Backtalker rears that head of its. Brigand drops a fucking... it's not even a balor... something worse.... so much worse. Albatross fucks up a shot and Commodore loses it.

I think with Albatross here and Union shortly after to take Commodore and Signal in... Harrison would have blown our station our home out of the stars. The invasion of our Sovereignty saving us. I hate it. I hate that either way we would have gotten the short end of the stick.

I've made sure to pay ol Creighton back for that declaration. For every pilot his forces maim or kill? We'll pay it back Twentyfold. When real combat erupts. My services are out to whoever is kicking Creighton down.

It's only a matter of time.

So till then we'll prepare, make ghosts, learn his tactics, adjust our own. I'm patient when it comes to getting my payment of blood. My ton of flesh.

Play the long game, learn, prepare, kill.

Gruntworks needs to start working out designs for a navy. And I need to meet with High Command to build our secondary command for real engagements. Current system is good for operations, jobs, squad level skirmishes. Gonna need a secondary system....

Yggy. Schedule a meeting with High Command and a few figures after my sparring match. Tell High Command to bring their key staff, important figures.... Get me some key pilots in there too, same with aircraft pilots, infantry, a S.O.G... Every department. Make sure we get some "Idiots at the table", high rank, low rank. Just... we need to get this sorted. Let me have my moment of being a pilot one last time... one last time.

+I'll get that settled by the time you're done with your match. Requisitioning Subalterns to prepare the old Boardroom. Good luck Director.+

//Glacier\\

[one-last-stand]

i guess i'll be accepting that invite Director. LEO's orders. i'll see you all there.

ha. good luck with your fight Glacier. it's always one last time.

Till Legends Bleed.

[one-last-stand]

{private communication log - audio transcript #B3-021}

i won't go.

ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴀ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴏᴜɴᴅ.

it's fucking signal! SIGNAL!!!

I am NOT gonna be in the same damned room as that murderous TRAITOR PIECE OF SHIT!!

ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ? ʀɪᴄʜ.

fuck off. you pull the damn trigger too LEO. that's not the-

ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ᴊᴀᴡʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ.

SIGNAL IS GOING TO BE THERE HOW CAN YOU ASK ME-

ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴᴛ ᴀꜱᴋ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀɴ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ.

YOU EXPECT ME TO SIT DOWN IN A ROOM WITH SIGNAL AND WHAT? TAKE FUCKING NOTES FOR YOU LEO??

ꜱɪᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ. ᴄᴏʀꜱᴀɪʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴇxʜᴀᴜꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ

fuck yo-

Qᴜɪᴇᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴇᴘʟᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ʟᴀɴᴄᴇʀ?

......

ɢᴏᴏᴅ. ɴᴏᴡ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴ.

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ -ꜱʜᴜᴛ ᴜᴘ- ɪꜱ ꜱɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇ ᴄɪᴠɪʟ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴀɢɢᴇʀꜱ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪᴛᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀʀᴍ ᴄᴀʟʟꜱɪɢɴ ꜱɪɢɴᴀʟ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴ.

i-

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ ʟᴀɴᴄᴇʀ?

yes.

thank you LEO.