(City in need of a name)
T, 12:01 hours
Thom gabbed hold of the bulkhead to keep from falling over as the dropship's deck pitched up below him.
"Jesus! Damn's rookie drivers!!!" He exclaimed as the 'Pride touched down roughly upon the ferrocrete tarmac of Barcelona's only spaceport. If he was to grade the dropships crew they'd had gotten an 'A' for punciality, bud a 'D' for rough landing. He then looked up at his cousin/tech, Markus, who was non chalantly leaning back against their hover truck chuckling at Thom.
"Yo, funk you!" Thom flipped him the bird as he stood fully upright again gratefull to have the trip from the FRR finally done and over with.
"So... You's sure you's got everything's calibrated for dis rock's gravity? I's don't like da idea of da muscle's breaking again like it did on Pacifica..."
"First off cuz," the grease monkey held up a hand, "You didn't have a tech then, so that was all your own damned fault. I don't tell you how to do your job stompping the 'Thing around, you don't tell me how to do my job. Agreed?" The burly tech crossed his arms over his barrelchest in a definant pose that stood as a warning to the tall, lankey, mechwarrior. (even though he has put muscle on since WB Raven)
Thom held his hands up and patted the air in a jesture that said 'whoa there.'
"Sorry's man. Just making's sure everything's ready's, just incase. Can't's be too carefuls.' " The thuggish mechwarrior stated.
"Dude. You're fracken paranoid, but don't worry homie. I got you covered. While you were locking yourself away on the grav-deck trying to put on muscle," He chuckled again. "I was doing my job. The 'Thing is ready to go. T, if the Stiener-Davion's or Dalian Guard or ah, the Little Red Riding Hood for that matter, show up with an attitude, we'll be ready. Well ready as we'll ever be anyways." He shrugged after he shot back with that.
"Good's. I'll's go check in wit da authority's, den find a's garage."
And a bar.. He perked up at that. Thom then hefted his studded leather jacket and his rucksack of 'provisions.' then made way to where mechbay doors were yawning open, revealing the stormchoked sky of Barcelona as the ramp lowered to the ferrocrete tarmac.
Etch... more rain.
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 22 July 2012 - 02:42 AM.