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[Detention Block Story So Far...]

[Skies above Port De Gambino]

The orange and tan, one armed VF-1 hovered in guardian mode over the city. SAR operations were commencing, and Rachele had been advised that the SAR personnel could handle things without her aid. She was clearly frustrated as she sat in her cockpit, chewing on a piece of dried fruit, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

The alarm klaxon suddenly shrieking at her brought her out of her reverie, just in time to see a sharp black shape approaching her at high speed. A collision course? She slammed the pedals currently controlling the Guardian mode's foot throttle. The resulting thrust made her bite down hard, close her eyes, drop the fruit, and press her hard into her seat. She opened her eyes quickly, and now gritting her teeth, she whirled around, aiming her gunpod towards the shape.

The two mecha stood facing each other in this single moment in time. Rachele's one armed trainer, paused as she finished whirling about, twisted at the torso, arm extended, aiming the GU-11 gunpod towards the other: A black battloid with gunmetal-gray and red accents that held before it in a salute a CADS-1 katana. The head unit was different, sporting a VF-1S inspired visor, but the machine was clearly a Shinsei Industries VF-11 Thunderbolt. The stance was precise and clean, a swordsman's stance after a finishing strike.

The moment ended when Rachele pulled the trigger. At that precise moment, the trainer's remaining arm fell off to plummet to the streets below, cut cleanly at the shoulder. The mysterious black variable fighter quickly transformed to fighter mode, and flew off towards the east. Rachele sat in her cockpit dumbfounded for a moment, her blue eyes wide. Then she shook her head and tapped her comm.

[GNG Secure Freq 295.75] <> She could not keep the awe she felt from her voice as she transmitted.

[Omni responding on 295.65] <Oversight about a hundred kilometers north of his current position.>>

There was hard pause on the radio as OMNI swung some of its High resolution Sensors over the the Damaged VF-1, before the operator came back on the comm.

<< your leaking some hydraulic fluid pretty bad and it looks like your engine output has dropped 11% below optimal, Technical recommends you come in for repairs or transfer to a new unit.>>

[GN Base Detention Block-Private O'Connel's Cell]

...and the door slid shut firmly behind him.

[Skies above the Sea of Gambino - Mystery Black VF-11]

OMNI was very right. The azure sky reflected on the subtle curves of the glossy black and red finish rushed by in a blur. That VF-11 was definitely in a hurry. It was also flying low. Low enough to the water to send up V-shaped plumes in its wake, and for beads of water to rush up, tremble and dance upon the black skin of the craft, then suddenly whip away. Within the variable fighter, one of the communications screens was showing the news. News specifically about a ball of light that had been seen by several fishermen, and apparently recently by an observing Zurg ship operated by the GIB.

[GN Base Detention Block - Interrogation Chamber]

Meanwhile, in a place that was definitely not where Private O'Connel was waiting, the "terrorist" had been made to sit. It was not a particularly comfortable chair, but it was also not a particularly bad chair either. It seemed the furniture here had no desire to enforce the "Good Cop, Bad Cop" routine. However, it was in fact mostly metal, bolted to the floor, and had restraining cuffs built into it for the forearms and shins. White pleather padding had been strategically designed to support the wrists, the shins, and the seat of the chair's occupant, but more importantly, held biometric sensors which sent data through the floor, and into the adjoining observation booth. That booth could not be seen from here. Only its mirrored glass.

Seated across from the recently treated man was an olive skinned, dark eyed woman. She was a half-betazed, the result of a liason between a human and the species renowned throughout the quadrant for their empathic abilities. However, she most likely appeared to be a woman of exotic heritage, possibly Greek, to the man unless he'd had some interstellar travel under his belt. There was no table between them, only a curved wall that seemed to serve as a podium for her. Her dark, thick hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and her uniform was well-pressed. A pair of wire-framed rectangular-lensed glasses that she clearly did not need perched near the end of her nose.

He had been brought in here after his wounds had been treated and his collarbone set, with two Cyclone MPs securing his limbs in the chair, power armor-augmented muscles ready to prevent a struggle. She had been here before he had arrived, and so far had taken no notice of him. She appeared to be perusing a datapad clutched in her hands.

Standard operating procedure had been carried out beforehand, relieving him of all equipment and clothing. What was issued to him instead was a fluorescent orange jumpsuit with no pockets. She finally looked up to regard him, and immediately said, "Let us begin then. Why did you attack Port De Gambino?"

((OOC:I assume that I know the encrypted freq as well...))[Secure Freq 295.75]<> Dragonflame said and headed east-southeast. He scanned the skies. [162.400 Encrypted] <>

{{I completely saw that coming...}}