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Issac Drops his salute to Ermor and turns to Falen.
"My lance?!? Since when did that gen....I mean Takashi give me command??" Issac said wide eyed. Seeing the looks he was drawing from Falen and other patrons of the Bar he stopped.
"Uh...... let go sit over there." He pointed at the far booth.

"Bar keep," He hollered over the din "Privacy, booth, uh..... 8, I think."

Ermor sighed tiredly as Auron left, the MPs also lowering their guard. They gave Ermor a crisp salute and clomped out of the bar in the heavy power armor. Ermor flickered an invisable speck of dust off the shoulder of his already impecable jumpsuit and then looked around the bar again. Not seeing anything that perked his interest, he sat down in a booth.

As soon as Ermor had sat down, the barkeep rushed to his table with a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler containing a few cubes of ice. "I wish you wouldn´t do that, my legs still work." The barkeep just smiled and went back behind the bar, picked up a glass and started polishing it.

Ermor opened the bottle and poured the whiskey into his glass. Once the tumbler was about half full he set down the bottle and picked up the glass. Before he could take a sip, his communicator chirped. Ermor sourly put the glass back down and opened the communicator in mid air before him. Once he read the message, he sighed and got up from his seat. He also took drank the contents of his glass in one go and grabbed the bottle to go. He then rushed out of the bar, his expression hard.

"Let me explain a little about who I am. I'm an altered human, and I've trained in the art of the sword since I was little. As you can see I've got blackened skin from the alterations" she pulled back the cloth covering her face to show her ash grey skin.
"I'm a warrior of many intense years of real combat, and I'm older than most of the people here, so I'll be well versed in close range fighting, assuming I can get used to a mech. I ended up running from my old home town because of some bad situations, but eventually found the MMA. I also stumbled upon an old beat up looking mech in a junkyard and I decided to take it. I'm finding that it's the way to go in this world, so I decided to do some reading into mech piloting and work and such. I need money to survive after all. My mech is still in the junkyard, but the owner knows it's mine."
She leaned back in her seat and folded her arms.
"I saw an ad in the magazine saying you had a lance open for positions, so I decided to ask you about it."

"If I could find the owners manual for it, I'd be able to fill in all the details. It looks like a fairly versatile and powerful mech, after all it has 3 other seats besides the main one. If one person can pilot it fine, what could 4 do I wonder..."
She pauses for a moment, thinking about it, then turns back to him.
"I'll arrange to have it shipped to my hangar as soon as I can. Glad to join up, and I'll try my best. Once I get this overhaul I'll probably go to the shooting range and practice a bit. Be interesting my first time in a mech."

He who is prefferably called "Cy" walked carelessly into the bar with a sour look on his face, quickly taking a barstool haphazardly and sliding it out to sit on.
He plopped down on it and kicked at the bar, making a loud thump to get the bar tender's attention and with an unhappy look muttered something.

"Mech Tonic.."

He muttered, reaching up and grasping the bridge of his nose between his fore finger and thumb, massaging gently with his eyes closed.
Nothing ever went right it seemed.
Cy groaned aloud at the thought then let his mind wander quickly to a happier place.
The battlefield.
Everything was good there... because he felt in control.
There he could acquire a target and shatter a mech's central control without even being noticed, or he could tear enemy multipeds appart at close range, feeling the feedback of the controls on the left arm as the power claw slowly flattened the metal and electronics with seeming ease.
Cy sighed out a happy sigh, then suddenly was pulled from his mind as his gruesome looking mix of hardliquor and other secret ingredients was put on the counter.

"Cure whatever ales ya."

The bartender said simply.

"Why do you think I ordered it?"

Cy replied with cheek before picking up the pint and taking a large swig, making a face at the foul concoction.

Issac turned off the privacy barrier in the booth and went to the bar. He ordered a glass of water, downed it and headed off to his hanger. From there He and Grendal would go out to the Training Field to 'play'.