Okay, a dark haired man named Jack, no last name is needed. Somewhat slim but well built, with sharp features. Blue eyes. Why do you need a pilot?

>>592193
A grizzled old man, experienced and still sharp despite his years, but he's been out of work for a while so his skills are rusty. George Jacobson.

A squat burly man with full-sleeve biomechanical tattoos named Wade Connors.
A large nose, Brown eyes, and a thick black beard and greasemonkey biker getup are his go-to style.
A former scrapfighter for an underground robot fighting tourney, Wade is ready to take the stage once again.
Not to pay off mob debts or anything, he just misses breaking things.

Black Dynamite.

The obvious choice is a young boy or girl with deep emotional issues that will begin to buckle under the stress of the responsibility you're about to put upon them so that it will only be more remarkable when they persevere in the end. That's how these things usually work right?

>>592289
What, a kid pilot a robot? You'd never even get them to sit still long enough to read the manual. They'd never even learn the startup sequence!

Seawall Portables. Spambot 2014/09/06(Sat)03:37 No. 592893 ID: 6e5743
File 140999983547.png - (347.39KB , 478x636 , grfq3 001.png )

"Wait what? Wow! Already?! You got a trace of someone right away, I've got a good feeling about this team!"

Lotto spun through loose papers and overhead wires as quickly as those little boosters would allow, "Why? To protect them and guide them in an inhuman war, my kind once made a terrible mistake and the wounds aren't healing, to be brief. I'll show you more on the way," roadways divided into footpaths into alleys and empty elevator shafts. Gradually foot traffic and rumbling motors retreated for the sound of high altitude winds. The Alboran sea peeked over the top of a lower civil ledge.

Lotto began scanning through a selection of doors, a series of plain square entrances placed flat to the side of sheer cliff of cranes and vertical rails. "I don't know if you can see it from here. It's those little black dashes in the sea. Prince Warships. They're patrolling, dropping depth charges and submersible fighters all over the place to clear out what remains of the Wings. This port was safely nestled into the middle of their standoff for some thirty years, it was looking okay. Now the fighting is going to begin again. It'll be worse this time, after thirty years the port has become somewhat independent, and... I'm rambling. Sorry. This is the door I think."
Lotto beeped.
"It's locked."
Beep.
"No answer."
Beep.
"Hello, anybody home? Maybe we just missed him. Are you sure you're picking up live signals? It's an easy mistake, the dead ones look exactly the same as the living you know."

>Are you sure you're picking up live signals? It's an easy mistake, the dead ones look exactly the same as the living you know.
How are we supposed to know the difference if the live signals are the same as the not-live signals? I mean, by that definition, one could never be sure.

I think we have a live signal. Then again, a ghost-powered robot does sound kind of cool, too.

>>592893
Patience. They could just be taking their time answering the door. Maybe speak through the door, saying you're looking for a pilot?

>>592976
A busty hot chick called Black Dynamite sound good?

I vote George.

Oops, large image size and broken tags, forgot to check it. Sorry about that. x x

Seawall Portables Spambot 2014/09/19(Fri)20:05 No. 594811 ID: d7bd24
File 141118231525.jpg - (265.82KB , 870x1234 , grfq4.jpg )

Fixed and reposted. Also QDisc is >>85062

Lotto alternates between buzzing the unattended door-switch and shoving on it roughly with that rotund hovering body.

<Lotto>'Now, our resources are too limited to do anything but find those with a chance to get in the way of what's to come. To weather the storm and eventually, hopefully, come over to our way of thinking. Whatever that is, I've forgotten how to fix everything, however, I get the feeling you want to help, we can do this.'

While time passes, a formation of armoured vehicles drifts past the wall of houses slowly, their guns and optics turned seaward they mirrored the motions of a distant target but eventually skirted around a corner and out of sight.

<???> A course voice comes from the nearby walls, "Hellooo?"

From the neighboring portable house peeks a broad pair of spectacles and a narrow young woman in a wheelchair. Lotto stares, a little aside himself, or disappointed by the sudden setback.

<???> The older woman speaks again, "I said hello there, are you from the hospital crew? Wade dropped in early this morning and left Pat with me, he wouldn't tell me where he was going but he told me you'd be coming by for her. I haven't seen George for a few days." She goes a little quiet, her whole manner disoriented. "We shouldn't be outside, the radio has been running wild with warnings."

<Pat> The younger of the pair, worryingly thin and wrapped in black hair, waves quietly. Only finely tuned mechanical ears can pick up her voice from the howling winds this high up. "I'm Pat. Are you here for my grandad? Have you heard anything from him?"

<Lotto> "No, we don't know where to begin, I mean I- I don't know where to begin." Then without turning from the pair, Lotto communicates in whispers. 'Okay I'll admit things may take more of your help than mine. I... don't really know what to do without a pilot. I was hoping you'd know everything, if not we're probably in a lot of trouble alone out here.'

hmmmm.... explain that you need his help.

>>594811
Tell them you need a pilot. Ask if they have any idea where he may have gone- he didn't tell them, but maybe they can guess? Was he talking about anything new lately?

>>594811
"Apologies, I am not with the hospital. I was looking for Wade Connors, ladies. I take it he isn't in at present? I was seeking to engage his services as a pilot. Urgently."

"You are Patience Connors, miss? We understand that the piloting talent runs in families, have you ever gone through proving trials?"

Oh, right, that was two names mentioned. Wade and George. Ask if they know where George is usually found.

Are either of these people the pilot we seek?

You could try asking for assistance, and seeing how they respond. We're looking for the kind of person who would.