+ D a r w i n i s m + [Marak]

[Cheesigator]

Honestly, what had she been expecting?

Hoping maybe, that other Pilots would share the same ideals as herself? When they'd all gone through the same hardships, the same rigorous training that set the mindset of culling the weak at a young age?

Clearly, she was asking for too much.

Clearly, asking for Pilots who knew how to do their fucking jobs was asking for too much.

Perhaps it was that culling mindset that made them so soft after graduation. So used to losing their friends, people they knew, people they cared about, that once they got past Stage Three, once they graduated and became fully fledged Pilots, that was why they latched so hard onto every other Pilot they met.

Afraid they'd lose more? Afraid they'd see more good people die?

They were soldiers.

They were created to die. What did they expect?

Gregor: Andy.

That singular message burned her the most, made her the most irritated of all. She knew fully well that the other Pilots, even the other Commanders, wouldn't want to hear what she had to say about these ten useless, pathetic, worthless Pilots who'd gone and gotten themselves kidnapped by a gaggle of buffoons. They were all too soft, too clingy, too emotional. Booo hoooo, their squad members were being picked off! Booo hooooo, it couldn't at all mean that perhaps the ones being picked off were all terrible to begin with. The other Pilots didn't know Andy, they didn't work with her, didn't understand her upbringing or viewpoints.

But Gregor did.

Gregor should have.

And the fact that he didn't even try to reason with the other Commanders, that perhaps they were being too emotional to consider her points simply because she didn't sugarcoat shit, didn't even try to ask her to change her wording--that just made it worse. He'd done nothing. It wasn't as if they had worked together for years, or anything.

It wasn't as if he should know her, or anything.

Her jaw set as she walked to her Commander's office following his message that she was supposed to meet him to talk, now. It reminded her so much of the few times she'd been summoned to her father's study. Instinctively she fell back into what he had trained her to do then; it didn't matter if she was right, or wrong, or if she had a point, or if she didn't. He was angry. And he likely wouldn't care to listen to a single thing she had to say otherwise.

So she walked with her head held high, shoulders back, back straight. She wouldn't match his frustration, wouldn't match the other Pilots' anger. There was simply nothing to be angry about. She knew how she felt, knew that wouldn't change, and wasn't interested in changing it. If he wanted to punish her, then he would do so regardless of what she had to say. So be it.

The echoing of her footsteps in the halls went unheard by her own ears as she made it to his office on auto pilot. She stood silently in front of his door for several seconds, taking deep breaths and washing all that pointless frustration away. She'd approach this calmly, and she would remain calm through all of it. If she had anything, it was her iron will, and right now she was willing herself to keep those emotions at bay. The frustration, the minor feeling of betrayal, and yet another cold, bitter reminder that she should never, ever count on other people.

Her father had told her to be strong, independent, unapologetic about how she felt. That if she felt or knew something that she knew was true, she should stand by it. To let others sway her into submission was cowardly, shameful and pathetic. And yet whenever those thoughts or opinions happened to go against his own ideals, suddenly she was automatically in the wrong.

She wouldn't bow to hypocrisy.

It was Andy by herself, for herself. Like always.

She let out a deep sigh and raised her hand to give a firm and confident knock on the door.

[Marakai2.0]

This entire week had just been one giant circus of chaos and complete, utter bullshit. Pilots were disappearing, and Inquiry seemed to be running back and forth with their heads shoved so far up their asses, they could see the sun in a different light. As Inquiry usually did.

The sad thing was, they probably knew what they were doing. Classified information and all. It was complete bullshit to him. The entire situation just pissed Gregor off to no end...not because of Inquiry's policies on anything, but rather because he could do almost nothing about it. There he was, the big man in charge of security and defense of the whole goddamned country, and all he could do was dispense a few glorified security guards to each dome.

Which, he supposed, was part of his job. Sometimes, though, he wished he could do more. More for his country, more for his fellow Pilots. More for Grisham, lost to wherever he was, and more for Yavul, that pup who seemed to have more and more stress piled on him with every occurrence. More for the Pilots that had gone missing.

Maybe, just maybe, he had too much of a personal interest in seeing things righted again. But why shouldn't he?

That thought was interrupted by a sharp rapping on the door to his office, the resounding sound of firm knuckles on metal unmistakable as it echoed loudly. Gregor's back was to the door, as he faced what, essentially, was an entire wall of security monitors. He wasn't looking at them, per say, but rather looking inside each one, his mind melded with the programs and functions of the monitors and their assigned cameras. One could see the monitors flickering from one image to the next, as the Commander appeared to head surveillance over nearly the entire country by himself.

Well....at least, the major portions of it. Rail stations, airlocks in and out of the dome, and the occasional view of the wastes outside. A piece of each and every dome was available to view on those screens, even as they flickered from one locale to another. When that knock came, though, each and every screen came to rest on one image: the outside of Gregor's office door, with one Pilot Noble Messiere standing before it.

Almost robotically, one well muscled arm extended downward to the console in front of Gregor, and tapped on a single unmarked button. Behind him, the large metal door to his office slid open with a hiss, and he turned around in time with it.

As the door opened fully, Gregor stood behind his desk, thick arms crossed over an equally thick chest, the multitude of monitors still flickering from one image to the next behind him. Two eyes locked onto the woman opposite him, standing there, silhouetted by the light of the hall. One, a deep and dark green, tinged with equal parts anger and exasperation. The other not much more than a cold ball of steel, three circular lenses pulsing with a crimson light. Cold, dead, and unjudging, but locked onto Andromeda all the same.

Gregor stood there in silence for a good long moment, content to give her a staredown before he opened his mouth.

"Care to explain yourself, Pilot?"

Those five words, and nothing more. Afterward, he pursed his lips and remained standing with a rather grim expression, altogether unhappy with the situation. This whole thing was just one more chip on the pile, and Gregor was in no mood for games.

[Cheesigator]

Andromeda didn't flinch as the door opened and she found herself staring face to face with her Squad Commander.

Sure, he was an intimidating guy. Big, tall, built like a tank. But so was she, and he was only a mere inch taller than herself--wouldn't have been at all if she weren't in uniform and wearing a nice pair of heels.

That tone in his voice instantly made her feel disgusted--with him moreso than herself.

She'd always had respect for Gregor, she had to after all, he was the Commander of the Travica Titans, best squad in Aedolis. And yet every now and then, during times like these, she was reminded that he, too, was only human (as far as she knew, anyways.) Everyone made mistakes. Everyone had doubts, worries, fears.

She stepped fully into his office, shoulders drawn back, head held high as the doors shut tight behind her and she was left with him and all those monitor screens--as if he thought by looking at life through a fly's vision would help him see things any more clearly.

"Explain myself? Explain what, exactly, Gregor?" She tilted her head as she mimicked his stance, her feet wideset apart, crossing her arms over her chest, the pure physical power contained within both their forms lost on no one.

"Hm," She pondered a moment, finally breaking eye contact to look at those monitors over his shoulder, frowning as if in thought. "Oh, I know." She looked back at him, tilting her head the other way now.

"Explaining what a Pilot is, now to me that seems like a great start. What is a Pilot, Gregor? Or maybe I should say it like this--what are we led to believe a Pilot is? Hm?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"A soldier. Best damn soldiers in Aedolis. Heroes. Superheroes if you ask some people. The highest bred, the highest educated, the most elite beings in this country. And you know, it's real funny, Gregor, because when I was back in Candidacy they were still kicking out the weak little pissants to TRIM, but I guess they must've changed that rule since I graduated, huh?

"Maybe I'm getting old, hell, we're both getting old, but for the love of the gods don't you think it's a little silly that these elite super soldiers, the best of the best, are getting so offended and upset when you even begin to imply that maybe their buddy who went and got kidnapped by a terrorist is someone worth questioning? Ah, wait--before you answer that, maybe you're not the best person for me to be asking that question, Gregor. Since you don't seem to know your own squad mates that well."

At this point Andromeda uncrossed her arms and stepped right up to Gregor, the only thing separating the two of them being his desk, and rest assured, if that desk wasn't there, she'd have been standing toe to toe with him.

"I wasn't 'antagonizing' anybody without reason, Sir. I guess I just have a tendency to ask the ugly questions nobody else wants to consider, since to me it seems like a lot of these Pilots are pretty fucking soft. Nobody wants to consider that maybe something fishy's going on, that maybe their lil buddy buddies are traitors, or that maybe there are issues that need to be addressed in Candidacy. Nobody wants to admit they're a fuck up, but if nobody asks any questions then I think there's plenty of evidence in history that a lot more people will end up dead if everyone just sits around with their thumbs up their asses. Wouldn't you agree?"