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Gear
Technopath, Inventor, Strategist

Gear shook his head. "I spoke with Archive, the League's communications and records expert. He said that we lost contact with anyone affiliated with the GML when the city was first struck by the contagion. We don't have any information coming out of there right now. As far as PHYRCE is concerned, we don't have much more intel than what we could gather with long-range scanners." He nodded to Wielder to confirm the intel was valid before continuing. "By the way, Wielder, thought I'd let you know that I updated this jet a bit. Energy shields, improved visual and radar cloaking, and the mobility's a bit better. Archive will be on communications line green if we need more info on anything."

The lack of information on PHYRCE was unfortunate, but not surprising. The mission was dangerous for a number of reasons, and depending on each Mercenary's analysis of their situation, this might be reason number one. They were about to engage infected bio-organism at the source of the contagion, which was orchestrated by a corporation that they knew nothing about.

In other words, they were flying in the dark. Again, a situation Alexei was far too familiar with. It was on mission's like these that Alexei excelled. He was a strategist, but his true strengths revealed themselves on the fly. His mastery of Guerilla warfare would be invaluable in Jackpalm. He hoped the others had such experience as well. "Organized" combat was not going to work in such a matrix of chaos.

The Russian finished his thorough inspection of his XMD, deemed it, once again, in satisfactory condition, and then slung it back across his shoulder.

"If there are no others assigned to this operation, we should take off now. Time spent waiting on nothing is time wasted, even if our departure is some time from now. Jackpalm City is getting worse as I speak."

Hopefully Wielder had some sort of contract roster for this mission's selected mercenaries. If not, the moments leading up to take off would be those of agonizing limbo.

Gear
Technopath, Inventor, Strategist

"Fine by me," Gear said, finally coming in from the entryway to the jet. The door closed behind him and he walked up into the cockpit, knowing Wielder would sit down in the Co-Captain's chair. Nothing personal to Wielder, but Gear built this jet with his own two hands...and a few robotic arms, but that was beside the point. No one could fly this baby as well as he could. "Everyone buckle in. The last thing we need is to have someone knocked out because they went flying around in the cabin." He waved his hand over the panel and it flickered to life, the quiet but powerful engine starting up. Gear considered cracking an airline joke over the intercom, but nothing came to mind so he ditched the concept.

"Communications line green," he said as he adjusted various settings. "All checks green-light, all systems online and functioning within normal limits." He wasn't necessarily talking to Wielder, more to himself, but Wielder needed the info, too. As the hangar doors opened, Gear hit the gas pedal and they taxied out onto the useless runway. The jet could make vertical takeoffs and landings, but as long as it was there, why not use it?

"Opening the wings. Throttle, and take off." With that, the jet lifted into the air above Beyon, moving with incredible speed. "Estimated time of arrival is 0800 hours."

((Your call, Bro. You want me to retcon my post, or shall I Deos Ex Machina them in with some kind of teleportation device?))

((I'll roll a 6-sided die. If it's 1, 2, or 3, We delete gear's post and continue from there. If it's 4, Gear teleports you guys in. If it's 5, You set up formation behind us in your own craft. If it's 6, (I suggested this to sony already...) You guys launch from a separate outpost, and meet us there.

DICE POWERS! ACTIVATE!))

EDIT: Alright, then We're en route, and you guys are hanging out at an outpost somewhere along the way.

Set off at a remote spire close to Jackpalm, Nero tinkered with a jet to take advantage of zombies' weaknesses. An enhanced flamethrower allowed a wide range of attack from the front while in hover mode, and smokescreens allowed for the confusion of the undead while the jet's HUD changed to a thermal view.

"It's about that time." He said as he finished calibrating the power output to the aircraft's display window. He retracted his multi-tool back into his right hand and closed up the electronic box underneath the captain's dashboard. "First squad should be on their way soon."

He opened up a comm-link to Wielder and Gear respectively. "First Squad, this is Second squad; Callsign: Hyperion. Modifications have been made, we are awaiting your arrival. Copy?"

((For the record, this is more-or-less what I'm thinking, in terms of our craft, and the drop pods:
Pods. Only, in place of the guns, seats, with supplies stored throughout. Four merc's per pod, using one seat for easy-access weaponry. We have two stored, one mostly full of supplies, of the medical and lethal varieties.
Craft. Flies at ultra-high altitude, has two decks, and underside doors, to allow for drops, or else easy removal of cargo. The top deck and bottom deck are automatically sealed off when the bottom opens, unless the craft is on the ground and given an override code. No weaponry, very fast.



Wielder sat down in the co-captain seat, after Gear had taken pilot. As his counterpart checked all the flight systems, Wielder checked out the communication equipment, as well as the advanced autopilot. After they all dropped from the pods waiting in the deck below, the craft would mostly glide back to the GML Compound, and an extraction team from a local outpost would handle the pickup of the mercenaries, along with any civilians, via TWILI gunships.

Once he was sure everything was in order, Wielder strapped in, and moments later, felt the G-Forces of takeoff push him back against his seat. Once they were airborne, he unstrapped, implying that the others could do the same. He stood up and stretched out, then walked to the middle of the long craft, where there were basic foodstuffs stored for in-flight consumption. "Okay..." he said, looking over the small selection. "I understand that this is a jet, but... do we still have to have these annoying little bags of peanuts?"

A few minutes later, a signal sounded through the ship- a hail. Wielder returned to the copilot seat and hit a button on his eyepiece. "First Squad, this is Second squad; Callsign: Hyperion. Modifications have been made, we are awaiting your arrival. Copy?" Wielder recognized the voice, and recalled that Nero and Sony, as well as potential others, would be engaging this mission as well, launching from an outpost. "Hyperion, this is First, callsign 'archangel.' We are in the air, and reading you clear. We've got everything loaded up and set, no problems. What's your status, over?"