Innovative Solutions (IC)

[Callos_DeTerran]

In Orbit

The planet of Idem III stuck out like a sore thumb when it was compared to the inky blackness, a sordid brown mark upon the expanse of the universe, and it was towards this one spot that five large shuttles headed towards with a certainty of purpose that no trader or merchant could effectively wear. ID information was sent ahead to the 'Titans'of Idem III, registration that came up as Innovative Solutions (Mercenary Company), and a couple of moments later the automated defenses of the closest stations stopped tracking their movement. Why should they shoot down the people they had hired?

Onboard Striker IV

Gun-metal gray walls were the norm aboard the inter-system shuttle, one of several that had come to collect the prospective recruits into Innovative Solution. Comfort was obviously not a great concern, the benches in the loading bay were bolted against the walls with simple harnesses to ensure that the occupants on-board were not jostled about during the event of a rocky re-entry. The berths that everyone on board was given were...spartan and as plainly efficient as everything else that had been seen was. A bunk with a thick wool blanket that was meant more for a good nights sleep then for a restful one, but it made for a better place then those some onboard had slept in.

Of those on board, there is only five besides the necessary crew to pilot the shuttle, but the fifth one had not been seen since first ushering the potential recruits on-board. Sgt. Claroe had sequestered himself into the cockpit with the crew and sealed the door shut behind him, clearly wishing to keep himself separate from those down below. A tall broad-shouldered man with the hardened brown eyes of an experienced soldier, he had even come to the pick-up as if expecting trouble with a laser rifle slung over his back, two pistols on his belt alongside a large broad bladed knife. To some with a more romantic idea of a mercenary, it would seem almost a shame that he wasn't wearing combat fatigues or holding a grizzled cigar clenched between his teeth. But then again some would expect a rousing pre-mission speech to get everyone fired up either, and that obviously wasn't the case since they still hadn't been told what their mission was yet!

Now was the time for the recruits to talk and bond with each other, perhaps, but not even the densest of them would be able to shake the feeling that they were being observed even now...

[Barbarian MD]

Elias "Doc" Walsh

Walsh sits somewhat nervously in the jump seat, scratching at the stubble of his new beard, still only three days old. Although a man of twenty-nine, he feels like child among the others--obviously more experienced at this sort of thing then himself.

The good doctor is fairly plain looking: somewhat handsome if not for the fresh stubble and lengthening hair. If he were standing, he'd be a little shy of six feet tall. Physically fit from workout DVDs he managed to squeeze in during his residency training, he's proud of his body--compared to other doctors--but if he were honest, he knows he's not truly an athlete.

In all the commotion to board and get his gear stowed, he never had a chance to introduce himself, and he feels like it's a little awkward now. He moves from scratching at his beard to fiddling with a clasp on his combat vest--custom made, fresh from the shop, and not a scratch on it. He'd spent almost all of his savings on equipment, mostly just buying the shiniest things he could find, or the things the black-marketeers told him he'd need. They'd been especially eager to supply the fresh-faced physician with guns, ammo, armor, and even a few explosives, easing his nervousness and charging him double what they would normally charge. Because of the contract he'd signed with IS seven years ago, he'd been able to save almost everything he'd earned, the company taking care of his school tuition and providing him with a stipend to live off of, and his residency, while it hadn't paid quite as richly as he might have hoped, had paid handsomely.

Walsh leans over to the man at his right and extends a hand. "Elias Walsh," he says, trying to speak a little more gruffly than normal.

[Bariko]

Sean McNamara

Sean turned his head, taking the offered hand as he brushed the black hair out of his face. "Sean McNamara. Pleased to meet you," he said through an irascible smile and a friendly shake of the hand. "Any idea what we're getting into here? I mean, I'm sure we're being watched, but I don't think they're judging us on our sitting skills," he chuckled.

Sean glanced at the others, Elias seemed to be relatively new to the idea, but the others definitely were more.... combat ready, if you will. Despite his average frame, Sean was no slouch, wiry and able to handle himself in a fight, but he knew why he was asked to join, and it wasn't because he was good with a gun.

Sean idly fiddled with his extra power packs while he thought. Unused to knowing nothing, Sean had every intention of learning as much about his situation as possible as soon as he could. Since most things seemed to be unavailable at the moment, that left him with learning about his teammates. Looking at the other two, he held out his hand, in a mirror of Elias' greeting. How about you guys? What's your story?"

[SurlySeraph]

Simon Agpalo

Simon looks around the shuttle with unreserved curiosity. Though it had been four years since he'd first gone to space, he still found the ships fascinating. Still, the shuttle was too spare for even someone like Simon to find new things to look at for long.

Simon is lean but muscular, and slouches forward in his seat surveying the people around him. He watches Sean and Elias talk with interest. When Sean addresses him, Simon perks up and shakes his hand. "Hi. I'm Simon. My story's a bit long, if you want to hear the whole thing. The short version is that I'm good at fighting and fight to make money, though. I guess your story'll be a bit like that, too." Simon smiles as he finishes. "Have any of you been on a factory planet before? I've never been anywhere like this. The idea of a planet without forests sounds weird to me, but I guess that's what this is."

[Barbarian MD]

Elias Walsh

"Nice to meet you, Sean. And no, I have no idea what we're getting ourselves into." He leans back. "They told me jack squat."

In answer to Simon: "Good to know at least one of us is a shooter--I'll make sure you keep it up. I'm the team's doc. You take a hit, I make it so you can hit 'em back. How 'bout you, Sean?"

[Bariko]

Sean

"Heh, well, I learned to shoot, more out of family pride than anything else I suppose. But no, I'm not here for my shooting skills, I'm a lawyer by trade. I'm the team handler, basically. I check over the contracts, make negotiations, and decide if the client is in breach of contract, et cetera. I guess I'm the 'face', if you will. I'm also pretty handy at planning and the like," Sean replied to the group. Casting a glance at the one person left to speak, he continued. "How about you, friend? What're you doing here?"

[The Unborne]

Dorian Black

The cindering bud of a cigar was the first thing any of the mercinaries could see of the man who wished to hide his face in the dark recesses of his seat. With a flick of the cigar, burning ash crumbles to the ground as the smoke dissipates throughout Striker IV. The man holding the cigar brings the smoke-piece up to his mouth and sucks on the end. Light from the cigar's butt illuminates the face of what seemed to be a perfect sculpture of Greek god.

Another flick of the cigar brings the man forward in his chair and reveals a neatly trimmed set of hair resembling the colors of hyperion. The man wore jet black armor which refused to escape the cover of the shadows; in fact, most everything on the man was black sans the features of his hair and face. One thing was for sure for the company of solutionists, this man was far too perfect physically to be normal. His genetically perfected, amber eyes shoot a glance at Sean.

"Simple story. I'm in between jobs and this seemed like the best choice with my resumé." The man clad in all black takes another puff of his cigar before continuing, "I've been to a factory planet before, very routine and very bleak. This won't be a vacation planet, that's for sure. The name's Dorian Black and this is Jon Brown." Black unlatches something behind him and draws a rather large hand gun, the barrel, itself, took up the length of an average-sized forearm. Gadgets and gears protruded from awkward angles signifying it was custom-made. "I'll repeat his name again just in case. His name's Jon Brown, ask again and I'll knock you down."

Dorian raises the gun and points it at the dock and mocking pulls it away as if it was shot. A showing of his pearly whites spread across his face as he found the humor in his own joke.

[SurlySeraph]

Simon

Simon looks confused but intrigued. "You named your gun? I've had my machetes since I was nine, and I never named them. Maybe I should."

[The Unborne]

Dorian

Mr. Black inhales his cigar smoke one last time and looks at the ashen butt. With a flick of his wrist, the end piece of his cigar drops to the floor and glows against the spaceship's flooring. Dorian places his black boot on the cindering ash and snuffs it out from existence.

"You have to ask yourself if it'd hurt. Would it hurt you to name your weapon, no. Life is simply a binary. Good and bad, life and death, pleasure and pain. Everyone chooses one side of the penny and sticks with it, if something is not bad, causes death, creates pain then I do it. I've never heard of any cases of weapons attacking their name-givers."

The tracer shifts back into the shadows and studies the rest of his team before addressing all of them, "How'd you all get involved with IS?"

[Bariko]

Sean

Sean found this... Dorian Black a bit odd. A bit of a confusing character, though a definite physical specimen. And he seemed to be particularly attached to his-Sean glanced-only weapon. Sean smiled, "Looks like we have identical armor."

Sean made mental note of each person's style. An obvious front line soldier, a medic, and... Dorian, who he gauged to be pretty all-round, but the stealth armor was a nice bonus. A good strategy and contract would undoubtedly make their situations better.

"As for how I joined IS, to be honest, I beat one of their clients in court. They noticed my aptitude for contracts and my people skills and approached me on that basis. How about you guys?"

[Barbarian MD]

Walsh is a little cowed by Black's odd behavior, but he's taking notes. He flips out a combat knife and begins to nonchalantly clean his fingernails.

Not so fancy as all that. I needed to pay for school; IS offered to cover my expenses. Sounded like a good way to see the universe.

[SurlySeraph]

Simon

"The first time I went into space, I met a mercenary who put me in contact with his old company. I worked with them until they went bankrupt. Then one of my friends there told me about Innovative Solutions, so I decided to try out for them. So here I am."

[Barbarian MD]

So, uhh... What kind of gun is that?

[Callos_DeTerran]

There isn't time for Walsh's question to be answered, the speaker up in the corner of the troop bay blaring to life with the slightly distorted voice of Sgt. Claroe.

"Strap in grunts! We are about to hit atmo in twenty seconds. Once the disturbance has passed, pack up your kit and get ready to unload on this miserable rock."

True to his word, the shuttle would soon begin to rock and shuffle about as it hit atmospheric friction, tossing any who hadn't strapped themselves in about like ragdolls until the Striker shuttle had entered the atmosphere of Idem III. In what seemed to be an all-too-short amount of time, the shuttle came smoothly to a halt and the rear loading bay door slid open to let in a gust of 'fresh' air. It was likely no surprise that the air here was thick and actually managed to feel kind of greasy, there was only so much that atmospheric cleanser units could manage before the sheer number of pollutants began to build up, and all around thick columns of black smoke rise into the sky above. The sight that lays before the new trainees is an industrial cityscape of almost impossible size, bustling with life and activity that can even be seen from your impressive height on top of the Mutagen building where you had landed. Every now and then a siren echoes up from below, as if to be some kind of man-made replacement for birds and animals, and turning the area around where it had sounded motionless and dead before activity resumed once more. It was mind-boggling on some level to look down at the sight from so high up, especially when your own surroundings are in such blatant contrast to what lays below.

Striker IV had alighted upon a sterile white spear of a building that protruded from the factories below like an ivory tower from a field of mud. The shuttle's landing pad even appeared as if it had recently been scrubbed viciously of any sign of the grime from below to leave the metal surface immaculate. A single glass door that opens up to an elevator is the only exit from the roof-top, and barring the way is a small balding man in a white jumpsuit. One can spy the LCD sprayed unto his left sleeve, allowing him to work from where-ever he was, and at the sight of the mercenaries he taps in two keys before walking slowly across the platform.

"Welcome! Let me be the first one to welcome you all to Idem III. Which unit do you lot belong to?" He asks officiously.

[SurlySeraph]

Simon

Simon looks around the cityscape in wonder. "So much smoke, but what is there to burn? Are they burning the metal?" The whole scene seems distinctly unreal to him, and he turns to the balding man as if in a daze. "Hello, sir. We're, uh, we're with Innovative Solutions. With Sergeant Claroe. He should be out in a moment." Unable to tear himself away from the novel sight for long, Simon turns to look down again, gaping at the crowds that move like ants below.

[Barbarian MD]

Walsh is bewildered by the sight before his eyes, and perhaps even a little frightened. Forcing himself to the edge, he looks down in wonder, trying to gain the perspective needed to understand what he is seeing.

Hearing the exchange going on, he turns his attention to the man before the team.

[Barbarian MD]

Walsh, waiting for something to happen, draws a cigar from his front vest pocket and chomps it between his teeth, trying to act like a proper mercenary in front of the little balding man (and his peers).

"So," he addresses the man before them, speaking around the cigar while resting his hand lightly on the pistol at his hip, "whose ass needs kicking this week?"

[Bariko]

Sean

For a brief moment, Sean had been paralysed, looking at the cityscape. It was so... different from his home. He couldn't imagine the conditions of those who spent their lives here.

The brief distraction caused him to step forward after his teammates, a polite smile on his face. "Ah, hello sir. My name is Sean McNamara, as Simon said, we're here with Sgt. Claroe. As my position is the handler of our team, might I inquire about the contract for our services?"

[The Unborne]

Dorian

When the transporter finally lands, Dorian unbuckles himself and holsters "Jon Brown." There was no need for fixing his eyes outside, the dense smog blotted out most the planet's sun from view. The black-clad tracer digs back into his suit for another cigar, but pauses and laughs. "Too much smoke here already don't you think?" He directs the question to Walsh. "Yes, cancer must be the child of this atmosphere. I feel sorry for the inhabitants anyways."

After more thought about the dangers this planet must offer, Dorian grunts a little when he notices all the gawking going around. "Have any of you thought about where the multitude of products come from? Planets like these save the conditions and quality of our own. A small price to pay for strangers we didn't even know existed..." Dorian stares off again and ignores the welcome of the balding man. "How intriguing...a sacrifice from strangers for other strangers."