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Post by fen on Jan 9, 2019 23:21:56 GMT -6
The waves nipped at the Mozambique coast ever so gently. An occasional wave would race farther than normal, scaring away the small collections of coastal birds in the area. Despite the pleasantness, it seemed that the waves knew that the day would bring change. Though, only the birds would be bothered by them, for now.
“Fleet is approaching fourth marked point, relay to Menaulion that we have visual confirmation.”
A fishing eagle dove into the waters of the lake, snagging what appeared to be a juvenile catfish. A lucky break for the bird, though it begged the question as to why the fish was so close to the surface. As the eagle batted its wings to generate some lift, the bleeding fish still clutched in its talons, the dithering of lake flies became more and more obvious. With the eagle now gone, the cloud of flies re-emerged, dancing and twisting into the air in a frenzy.
Cain lowered his binoculars, the faint call of another fishing eagle in the distance bringing him back to reality. The Wolfsbane was awkwardly hidden between treetops, faintly camouflaged by the broad leaves. Instead of doing the observation work inside the cockpit, Cain had opted to sit outside instead. It took a little bit of work, but he managed to create a simple nook for his bag and himself.
Just behind the small forest was a clearing with a dilapidated building, and the other two AAs. The remains of the structure could barely count as a ‘building’, but the walls were useful enough. Openings along the side were large enough for the Neu Alma to mount its Longbow, while the Roughrider was stationed nearby, armed with medium to close range weaponry.
Their job was to point and shoot at anything or anyone that remained after the Red Sun’s debut.
Cain was more than happy to remain at his little post, enjoying the sights of the lake and reporting back to Kara. Their third companion, the Nias pilot by the name of Kenneth Milds, was much more outgoing. He was not unlike his squadron leader, ‘Spittle’. The two both seemed to be from the North American midwest, true ESU-borne. ‘Dogtags’, as he was known, was well-built with short cut black hair and a gaze that seemed as sharp as it was warm. His lightly tanned skin and consistently rolled up sleeves gave him the appearance of a stereotypical soldier. As he talked shop with Kara over their gear, though, he appeared as anything but.
“So like, the Roughrider’s got one hell of a shotgun, tossed in a heat dagger underneath it, with a mechanism that slings it away from the barrel so it doesn’t get melted-”
Fleet is approaching fourth marked point, relay to Menaulion that we have visual confirmation.
Cain’s voice punctuated their conversation, causing a brief pause. Kenneth whistled, taking a sip of water from his flask. “They’re getting pretty close then, I hope the other team is ready.”
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on Jan 9, 2019 23:23:20 GMT -6
Wind whistled as it rolled along the mountain ridges and tumbled into the trembling trees that surrounded them. A flock of birds traveled along the wind from the coastline, fluttering past the four machines that dotted the landscape. Still as they were, the machines seemed like little more than misplaced monuments.
“Dropkick, this is Tadpole. Relaying visual confirmation of the enemy fleet.”
“Hear ye loud and clear. Standing by for further instruction.”
The Highlander Mk.II’s hand gripped at the handle of the plasma cleaver carried across its left shoulder. Lifting the dog tags that hung from his neck, Sean planted a gentle kiss on each. He muttered a practiced phrase under his breath before letting the tags drop heavy onto his chest. His hands moved back onto the controls, tightening his grip.
“We’re mere moments—moments!—away from seeing that shiny new weapon of mass destruction in action,” Sean openly mused over the team radio. “The lot of us will be put on trial for crimes against humanity if we fail this mission. Stakes don’t get much higher than that, now do they?”
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moo!!
Cosmic Kiddie
Posts: 63
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Post by moo!! on Jan 9, 2019 23:27:18 GMT -6
Tap, tap, tap. Being one of two Menaulion pilots certainly made her feel out of place amidst the Enceladus group; even then, Ernest’s presence didn’t help much – Lin was still, after all this time, still getting used to the idea of seeing him as an equal rather than a mentor. In other words, he was just about as unreachable as the rest of them. Tap, tap, tap. And so, Linnea remained quiet, leaving the only noise in the cockpit to be the light tapping of a finger against the Kirin’s controls. The mission was said to be a lot of waiting – very boring, even, but for some reason that only made the young pilot even more on edge. Easy wasn’t always as it seemed, and Linnea was never one to lower her guard in the first place.
Whatever chatter that took place between the other pilots on the communication line (which wasn’t much, honestly) was tuned out, and she focused her attention outward and to the skies, listening.
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Post by Charredgp on Jan 10, 2019 19:41:19 GMT -6
Waiting was always the worst part. Especially with something as delicate as what they were doing. It gave Gabe time to think...And worry. He had little doubt of his abilities, but he was no psychic. He had no way to predict how things might end up. Giddy as he might have been in other circumstances to get to fire, in his own words, "The giant fuckoff gun I dreamed of but never knew I needed", they had also made it clear that this was a one-time chance with huge ramifications if he fucked up. Words like "Court martial", "War crime" and "Executed on the fucking spot" may have been used or implied to emphasize how much he couldn't fuck this up.
For now, at least, he wasn't armed with that, thankfully. Which meant Gabe could lean back in the Hobgoblin's cockpit, relaxed, but ready to move at a moment's notice.
"Well hey, if we do well but lose later, maybe we can get tried by Mars instead." Gabe responded over the radio with sarcastic hopefulness. "On the other hand, definitely lookin' forward to the fireworks. After all the shit they hit us with, it's only fair, yeah?"
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Mary
Little Twinkle
Posts: 14
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Post by Mary on Jan 10, 2019 21:03:13 GMT -6
Thousands of thoughts made their circulation through the mindset of Mata Hari's pilot as her grip on the controls absentmindedly tightened, trying to digest the events that had recently transpired. Her usual tempo was horrifically out of sync since the news of Lana's departure, news that she had received at the same time as everyone else. Furthermore, there was one reaction out of the room that had felt out of place with the room, a sullen, but accepted glance, almost practiced in its reaction. Escaping from her thoughts for a moment she sneaked a glance at the Hobgoblin, Gabriel cracking a fair attempt at gallows humor in the blanketed air of the operation, dissipating in the less than accepting audience. There was a feeling, a guttural guilty feeling of wanting to be angry with him, a plead for jealousy and ugliness, but despite the cravings she found herself wanting as she relaxed her grip of the controls, focusing shifting back to the situation at hand. This was just another half-given goodbye in their history, contact information and a note of apology left behind with a lingering air of hope that she would never call.
And maybe she would, but for now it was time to let that feeling go. Weight of the world on your shoulders and death machine tipping on a needle point of a firing squad and the turning point of the war. Yeah...Suddenly, being hung up on someone who had let her down before just seemed....small, looking back on it.
It was here that she finally felt the weight fall from her heart, then soon after her shoulders. Her posture straightened as her usual composure made its way through her core, as if she had taken the first swig of her flask against the tantrum of a winter's storm. For the first time since her less than stellar introduction to the Menaulion Evangeline cracked a smile as she humored Gabe.
"Easy Shockwave, I just came aboard. Last thing I want is for my first official mission with the lads to end with a nice cold glass of court martialing!"
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Post by S☆E on Jan 10, 2019 21:33:05 GMT -6
The Canyonero stood tall, the sun reflecting off its mesa red paint job, a few powder blue star decals giving it a touch of Arlington flair. A shiny new laser cannon latched onto its right arm's primary hardpoint, barrels poking out from underneath a heavy-duty shield. Ernest couldn't help but crack a smile at the cheery-but-grim mood over the radio. "I've got a friend who's made her way pretty high up the ranks, I could probably pull a string or two and keep us outta lockup. Know a guy who runs a 'freelance security trade', always lookin' for good pilots." Ernest said with a grin, the air quotes audible in his sentence. "Worst case scenario we eat shit today and spend the rest of our careers puttering around in some paramilitary outfit. Ain't so bad."
The sound of popping open a drink can hissed as he paused and took a drink. "Either way, this'll be one for the history books."
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on Jan 11, 2019 0:14:15 GMT -6
“Only question is who will still be around to write them.”
Myra slouched further into her seat, fingers twiddling with a misplaced lock of hair that slipped out of the tight bun that kept the rest in place. Her eyes drifted away from the mountaintops and into the distant sky. A shooting star overhead forced her to think quick, a wish caught in her throat—
And swallowed back down.
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Linkyu
Cosmic Kiddie
aaa
Posts: 47
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Post by Linkyu on Jan 11, 2019 20:14:26 GMT -6
Kara's face straightened with Cain's report. The discussion with Kenneth was quite enjoyable, and the air here was really pleasant, but it was now time to work.
"Roger that, Merlin." She turned to Kenneth. "We should worry about being ready ourselves now- I'll ask you some more about the Roughrider later, for now, let's get back in. If there's still any question on the operation, now's the last moment."
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Post by fen on Jan 13, 2019 3:16:28 GMT -6
“Three radiation signatures… This should be them. Fran, Eve, get in position.” The silhouette of the RIPPER emerged from between the canopy, its visor glowing a bright blue as it aimed its long rifle towards the center machine within the patrol, a brightly marked Gnome. Though unwieldy to have been carried throughout the jungle until now, its sleek body sported enough modifications to make its heat signature middling. A low hum shook through the machine before the rifle fired, its long spike piercing through the cockpit of the central machine and immediately disabling it. The Wendigo and Viy beside it didn’t notice until it was too late. Streaks of blue was all they noticed as the RIPPER moved in, sending a fist into the face of the opposing Wendigo, cracking the visor as the machine tumbled back into the rocks. Using the momentum of the punch, the RIPPER turned its torso and sent its leg towards the Viy, repeating the process with a flare of its thrusters. Buzz, buzz…“Both are down, kids. Better hop to it before her bugs start making a mess of the inside.” Loud screams of metal greeted the group, as large robotic insects got to sawing open the cockpits of the machines, making a hole just large enough for a set of smaller robotic arms to begin the disabling and unlocking process. The loud noise of the machines was more than enough cover to hide the sound of Eve and Fran emerging from the jungle, presuming anyone was watching. Typically he'd find himself unbothered with the task of piloting a machine that wasn't his, but the small takedown he'd witnessed coupled with the insects' current operation made him dubious of the fact that he'd be able to make himself totally at home in one of the unfamiliar cockpits. Couldn't have been a little gentler, huh? he thinks, squinting at the crack caused by the RIPPER's fist. Now wasn't an appropriate time to make complaints. Still, it wasn't as if his feelings wouldn't manifest themselves in some way: the usually raring to go Fran, emerging from the thicket, gestures towards the machines rather than continuing forward. "Ladies first," he says in the direction of his companion. When did he become such a gentleman? "Hmmmn...?" She mused, her lips curling into a faint smile. "If you say so." Without hesitation, Eve approached the Viy. It was, after all, an easy choice. She looked over the machine quickly before giving it two pats and climbing inside. Perking up from the cockpit, Eve spoke again. "Don't be so formal, Fran. It doesn't really suit you." Wendigo for me then.Waiting until his companion had made her choice, he starts towards the other machine, making himself at home in the unfamiliar cockpit much quicker than he imagined — probably a side effect from his previous trek. “Alright, we’re good to go.” This statement is not directed at Eve, of course, but at his superior. As for the comment made by the former… I have nothing to say to that.He bore witness to the machines dragging the knocked out pilots from the machines, and then as the pilots claimed their machines of choice. Once satisfied, the RIPPER moved again, the stark black machine raising its rifle as it looked over the now claimed Viy and Wendigo. Its pilot tapped their commlink again, bringing up their connection as the three machines joined up. “Mother Hen, this is Weasel One, we are in position. I repeat, we are in position and advancing to Weasel Four. Let the Cuckoo come home.”
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Silence was never good company.
As the ESU fleet continued their approach, it would be only a matter of time before the MR fleet descended. They only had an estimate- roughly when the ESU fleet would begin the halfway point past Lake Malawi, but it was enough. Though the three groups were separated, there was a certain amount of anxiety that could be felt for the upcoming mission. The quiet before the storm, and all that…
A growing hum brought his attention to the skies. The custom Hippokon, Treehopper was arriving. A new development. They had been told they wouldn’t see any reinforcements from their position, so why-
“Forward squadron, this is Buffalo. I’ll be landing in a moment with some spare ammunition. They’ve made some changes to the plan, so I’ll be here to facilitate our departure when the time comes, you copy?”
“Yessir, welcome aboard.”
He sent his gaze back towards his companions, whom he could barely see from his position. They’re changing the plan? Cain let out a quiet sigh before adjusting himself in his little nest. He slowly brought the radio up to his lips again.
Buckle up, I think I’m starting to see preemptive movement from our homecoming fleet.
The sound of the radio kicked back to life, drawing the attention of Kenneth, arms still crossed. He rubbed his chin, a cocked brow completing his quizzical face. “Is that important…?” He muttered, eyes focused down on the radio, before he simply shrugged.
Click.
No, it’s not.
The first shot struck Kenneth in the back of his head, blowing a large chunk of it away in the blast, and causing the pilot to fall forward with a blank, bloodied expression on his face. It crashed into Kara, the sudden weight of the dead stunning the soldier.
Click.
Was it a second? Two? It didn’t matter. The next shot followed the first, almost striking Kenneth once more in the head, but in actuality using the space created from the first shot to strike at the pilot behind. This one, too, met its mark.
Both Kenneth and Kara’s bodies fell backwards. Blood splatter along the walls crept to the ground where they had fallen, rejoining with a small pool that had since begun to collect. The Treehopper had only barely made its landing when a confused Rusty popped his head out of the machine, peering around… Before he noticed the two bodies.
Click.
Rusty’s eyes went wide, and he reflexively pulled himself back into his cockpit. Bracing his head against the ladder that hung by the auxiliary entrance of the Hippokon, he felt a ringing in his head as-
Crack.
The pilot grimaced, the sound of the missed shot hanging in the air, almost taunting him to step out again. He bore his head against that small ladder again, pressing just hard enough to feel that ringing in his head get worse.
There were two bodies outside. He didn’t know what state they were in, but there were two bodies outside. One of them, one of them….!
Every muscle in his body screamed at him to get outside, to slide down the side of the Hippokon and to go over and-
“I guess you’re the lucky one.”
Rusty looked over to his console, ‘how did the enemy get in touch with me? How do they have this frequency?’ those thoughts quickly drained out of his mind. There was still one other person on this island.
“You- You-!!”
“Don’t worry, I have to jet anyways. I’ll let you outside. Give them my regards, yeah?”
---
“Do we have an ETA on the descent?”
“Hard to get a read from what little recon satellites we have... Hold up- I just got confirmation that descent has started!”
The mood aboard the bridge of the Menaulion grew rigid, the anxiety sharp enough to cut through the air. Yet, if either Adamaris or Jack were nervous, they didn’t show it, their faces stone cold. Adamaris frowned, her eyes drifting onto another screen that showed the base of Enceladus. It was close, but still a few miles from where the Menaulion was stationed, so if anything were to happen…
“W-Wait a minute… I’m… Getting something else-! We have an unidentified object entering our airspace and it’s-!”
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on Jan 13, 2019 3:17:57 GMT -6
The problem of space junk littering the atmosphere had magnified with the onset of war. Once a rare occurrence, it had become more and more common to see wreckage hurtling through the sky like a shooting star. Though most of it landed somewhere in the ocean, a frankly alarming amount of debris still managed to find its way onto some poor farmer’s pasture or through the roof of an unsuspecting schoolhouse. So when the greenhorns stationed around the Enceladus noticed a faint twinkle in the distance, they might have assumed it was the byproduct of a fierce conflict high above.
Malkovich? He would know better.
Bright red lasers tore through the unsuspecting battlefield, leaving charred stripes of dirt and fire in their wake. A Gnome stumbled forwards as its reactor warped with heat, exploding into chunks of malformed metal. The Wendigo standing beside it was half-melted by the blast, its pilot screaming out in agony as they met a fate best not imagined.
Turrets positioned around the facility turned towards their unknown assailant, weapons automatically locking onto the crimson behemoth and firing. Their shells bombarded the machine’s hull. The Brutus returned fire with its chain guns, sweeping across the row of turrets that lined the entrance to the facility. One of its laser rifles groaned as shells pelted it, rendering the weapon inert.
No matter. The Brutus had more than enough firepower left to finish this fight.
From below its battered frame, a pair of rocket launchers ‘clicked’ into place as its armor shifted into place. Missiles launched towards the crowd of machines. From the Canyonero’s radio a gravelly voice returned.
“We have unfinished business, you and I.”
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Post by S☆E on Jan 14, 2019 14:46:48 GMT -6
Ernest gritted his teeth seeing the glint of red in the skies. In his gut he knew what was coming, it couldn't be anything else. The nightmare machine swept low through the carnage and Ernest kicked on the Canyonero's thrusters, closing the gap between them. He was already in range by the time the radio transmission had come through.
"Unfinished business? This is taking out the trash. Nothing more than a chore." Ernest spat icily, firing a salvo of his own missiles into the approaching ballistics. They collided in front of the allied AA's, the combined blast's shock wave kicking up a cloud of dust and debris that still hindered the friendly machines but wasn't enough to destroy them. He brought his new weapon to bear, something special Cinco had cooked up (with enough force to atomize even the most stubborn ghosts!) for just such an occasion and took aim at the seams of the Brutus' adjustable armor.
His trigger finger had never felt so satisfied.
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moo!!
Cosmic Kiddie
Posts: 63
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Post by moo!! on Jan 17, 2019 23:56:01 GMT -6
And just like that, everything went to hell. It was thanks to the Kirin’s sleeker, reworked frame that allowed it to react and move away from the lasers quickly – and the advantage of not being in the middle of the group.
She watched as the newly dubbed Canyonero lurched forward and dispatched the missiles with ease, heading straight to confront their new enemy. It was a surprising amount of intensity coming from Ernest, and she would have been left gawking at the scene, had something else not caught her eye. Fire. From the point in the sky where the two machines’ missiles collided, a wave of flames rained down on them. It wasn’t the product of a regular explosion – there had been something in there. Lin must have been one of the first to notice it, judging from the immediate gunfire from the rest of their team. She barked into the communications, raising the Kirin’s right arm – which, oddly enough, seemed more shield than arm – to protect it from the heat and flames as she began to circle around the two clashing machines. “Clear the area! Now! Don’t engage the enemy directly - spread out and aim to flank them instead!”
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on Jan 18, 2019 23:51:24 GMT -6
The Canyonero’s twin beam cannon bore through the Brutus, exposing its mechanical guts to air that grew heavy with smoke. The damaged machine reluctantly dipped left as explosions rocked its frame. Unable to maintain its altitude, the Brutus was forced to rocket past its adversary to lick its wounds. Amidst the desolation, a lone Pixie scrambled to hound the Brutus. It emerged from the flames that licked its cockpit with a fury of its own, weapons stored in its legs firing upon the enemy machine. The Pixie’s pilot howled with catharsis with every shot that landed against the mass of thrusters that kept the Brutus airborne. And like a dog that just couldn’t shake a flea, the Brutus struggled to escape its fire. Warnings blared loudly inside the crimson behemoth. The pilot shoved one of the consoles away, sending the screen crashing into the wall of the cockpit. A message on the main screen beckoned the pilot closer. Their hand lingered just above it before clenching into a fist, mashing the screen violently. [ CONFIRMING IDES SYSTEM…] THE RUBICON IS PREPARED TO LAUNCH. LEX TALIONIS. Latches hissed as an opening on the underside of the machine revealed itself. The ‘face’ of the Brutus retreated into its frame, and from the hatch below a heavily modified CLUB emerged. Like a megaton bomb the Rubicon dropped heavy into the air, detaching the umbilical cord connected to the back of its helmet. The Pixie shifted to slow itself, but unexpectedly found itself face-to-face with the Rubicon. The larger machine thrust forwards. Even as the pilot of the Pixie reached for the pistol at their side, a heat dagger wedged itself between its wings and deep into its cockpit. The machine fell limp as the two locked in a tight embrace. Its corpse shielded the Rubicon from bullets, tearing the defeated machine apart in its arms. As they neared solid ground, the Rubicon kicked away from the pile of scrap metal. Smoke clouded its position as the Brutus airdropped one of its chain guns overhead. A quiet moment passed before the CLUB lifted the chain gun off the ground, part of the armor from the Brutus acting as a curved gun shield. The two machines began to pick off targets that emerged from the smoke with concentrated bursts of raw firepower. “Should have escaped this mess while you still had the chance, Orthrus.” The pilot’s voice was labored and unsteady. “But you... you just had to go and play the hero. Don’t you think you’re a little old to be living in a fantasy world?”
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Post by fen on Jan 26, 2019 0:26:48 GMT -6
With time on their side, the three machines descended back into the jungle, armed and visors prepped. Their trek was fast, their destination no mystery. The robotic insects that had been busy cracking open their new machines hung to their metallic frames now, silent, waiting. A minute became two, but each second felt like an hour. Their commlinks buzzed.
“We’re close.”
The RIPPER seemed to slow, angling its rifle upward as if to not reveal it through the jungle’s brush. Just a few meters in front of them, the three could see a barely visible mud road. As their machines fell silent, they could make out the sound of branches cracking and trees groaning. Movement. Enemy movement.
“Weasel Four, prepare to move. The rest of you kids, get ready to fire.”
Betraying their presence for but a moment, the RIPPER poked its long rifle through the brush once more, angling at the convoy of machines that chose this road as their route. At the head was a Hoplite, with two Peltasts flanking the long armored truck just behind it, and one Phalanx at its rear.
Though they were clearly well armed, they didn’t yet notice the ambush they were about to walk into. The lead Hoplite’s visor scanned the jungle, and it paused for a moment on their position. It seemed to stop, motioning for the rest of the group to stop as well, but it did not fire.
“...That’s about as much time as we’re getting, fire!”
A barrage of gunfire from the RIPPER, Wendigo, and Viy bombarded the convoy, taking the machines by surprise. The lead Hoplite was struck by the RIPPER’s rifle, crumbling to the ground and in turn blocking the road for the convoy just behind it, which came to a grueling stop, kicking mud into the forest. Both Peltasts returned fire, their thrusters sending them into the jungle for cover. The lone Phalanx moved in on the convoy, angling its mortar cannon to bombard the trio.
The slight rustling of underbrush would be no more noticeable that the movements of a rat compared to the large scale battle happening around it-- noticeable unless one would be specifically looking for it.
Wren was nothing more than a moving shadow, having been sneaking along on foot with the AAs this entire time, expression blank as she focused on the one task she was depended upon to complete.
And that one task was now a sitting duck in front of her. Like a devilish wind, Wren jumped from her location and rushed right into the combat area. Where a more mindful soul might have hesitated regarding the danger, there was no second thought as she flung herself through the crossfire, and towards the now stationary convoy.
Enter, disable-- enter, disable--, such rudimentary instructions flashed through her mind, and that was all that flashed through her mind, but for her, it was all that was needed.
The firefight didn’t last too long, and neither did Wren’s infiltration. Compared to the scenarios Hawk had her practicing, the convoy was a breeze. A button press here, a console short-circuit here, a smashed window there- her movement could not be contained, and neither could her sabotage. The few guards onboard could barely pull their weapons before they were taken down.
By the time she had finished, so had the others. The RIPPER emerged from the woods along with the stolen Viy and Wendigo, lowering its weapon as the wrecks of the guard machines smoldered around the convoy. The convoy was silent and steady, heavily armored but as docile as any other chunk of metal.
“Escorts are taken care of, have you found the release mechanism yet?”
In the second section of the convoy, towards the back, was the locked weapon. Though hidden from Wren’s view, a large brightly colored warning symbol was painted along the front of its container. A console stood just beside it, glowing softly to signal that it was online.
Wren, however, didn’t process the words coming through to her immediately.
There was a moment of silence, of uncharacteristic hesitation, as the woman stood in the middle of the first section of the convoy, back straight and eyes fixed on the ground in front of her-- specifically, the guards. While no one would be able to say they had been shown mercy in their final moments, one could at least say the end was swift. They were nameless faces of a greater evil.
At least, Wren thought so--
“Ah, one moment please.”
Wren was quick to focus back on her mission. Eyes to the second convoy, and it was mere seconds before she took a few long strides over towards the mechanism.
“Deactivating now.”
The Wolfsbane’s journey across Lake Malawi was met without question, the Menaulion and Enceladus too busy dealing with their sudden attacker to question why one of their pilots was trying to get in touch with them, or why another had crossed the lake in its entirety.
“Kept you waiting, huh?”
It landed beside the convoy, the Wolfsbane’s visor lighting up as the latter half of the convoy began to open up. Smoke billowed out, shooting out into the jungle as the top of the truck broke apart and slide to its sides. A raised platform holding the weapon emerged from the smoke, its metal binders unlocking with loud snaps as the weapon was freed.
Whatever Ken would have said was lost now as the group had reunited. Cain’s semi-crackled voice through the radio was enough to, even if only barely, lift the op leader’s spirits.
“About time,” The RIPPER whirled around, weapon raised and eyes locked on the ensuing jungle. “Eve, Fran, watch my flank. Once he’s done with lift-off, we’ll be heading back home. That means you too, Wren.”
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on Jan 26, 2019 5:48:27 GMT -6
With both hands gripping the two handles on the weapon, the Wolfsbane’s thrusters started once more, kicking a few times until the machine freed itself from the ground, slowly rising into the air. Though at first the weapon lagged, slowly the front half of it began to lift up as well. Two thrusters attached near the front came to life, and sure enough the Wolfsbane was able to fly with the heavy weapon now. It was shaped eerily like a squid, with the thicker, heavier front half much like the shape of its mantle, and the handles near the AA-end of the weapon much thinner and lighter. Though it was an awkward hold, the small thrusters located near the front of the weapon did help in lift. The Wolfsbane’s back thrusters aligned into an ideal flight configuration, slowing in flight for just a moment before blasting off, the machine streaking as it began to curve upwards. --- Bright red carved through the cloud cover over Africa, each ship pointed at an angle towards the ground, their guns faced forward. Their descent began with a single small Gusuku-class, but it wasn’t long before several others followed. The rounded fronts of the Gusuku-class brimmed with turrets, giving them a particular advantage during their descent. Not that it mattered, as not far behind the fleet of Gusuku-class was the flagship of the fleet. The Argos’s descent was met with a striking groan. While the Bastille-class were relatively new, they were built predominantly for space warfare. Though equipped with the capability for under-atmosphere flight, it was too large and too heavy to operate under atmosphere for too long, and its mass caused it to move with groans and rumbles akin to thunder. “The enemy fleet is now visible!” “Holy-- how many guns do they have…?!” “Those are too many ships…!” “Quiet, all of you!” York’s shut fist slammed on his chair’s arm, his glare cutting straight to his communications officer. “Tell the fleet to delay evasive actions until the Menaulion gets confirmation the weapon is delivered! We are not breaking formation!” --- [ DRAMATIC MUSIC] The confirmation never came. Air raid sirens blared throughout Enceladus as the Rubicon faced off against the Canyonero and the Kirin. The remaining defense guns that had survived the initial assault were aimed towards the descending Martian fleet in preparation for their arrival, and various engineers and personnel members still stationed shuttled between buildings amidst the fighting. The Menaulion was no better, though the bridge was collected, the interior could best be described as a swarm: maintenance workers, engineers, and everyone in between were rushing to get to their positions. The alarms outside indicated that the ship was in fact preparing to launch. “We’re receiving a distress signal from our forward squadron, something about-” “Have them reconvene at the backup coordinates with the rest of our pilots, this operation is over.” “Understood, but we have confirmation of… A deserter among the forward pilots, uhm, Merlin is-” “...I see.” “...And the Nias? What should we tell them?” “Tell them that our hand is tipped.” --- Even as the order came out and the ESU fleet began taking emergency evasive actions, it was hard to pry the pilots eyes off a single figure flying up into the airspace soon to be shared by both the Earth and Martian fleets. Even as pilot Cain ‘Merlin’ Bernard was given a ‘capture or kill’ status, it wasn’t as if the pilots needed confirmation. The insignia of a light pink and blue rose flashed in the sun as the machine climbed and climbed. Even as the pilots of the Menaulion were ordered to reconvene at a new coordinate to rejoin the Menaulion, it was hard not to ask what was happening. If this meant that they had lost. Though the ESU fleet began to scatter, there was no incoming fire from the Martian fleet, which continued its descent as ever. The Wolfsbane came to a halt at the peak of its launch. The gun swung into place, aimed directly at the ESU fleet. Slowly, it opened up, breaking into six sleek pieces. In the center of this gun was something, hidden in its depths. Even from a distance, it was just barely visible by the faint green glow it gave off, which only seemed to grow as it began to spin. The Wolfsbane’s eyes disappeared as its advanced targeting camera on its head opened up, swirling into life as it picked up the various members of the ESU fleet. “Firing in…” A swirl of strange mist collected in the openings of the gun, as if attempting to hide the vibrant green glow, but failing. “3,” The ESU ships banked left and right, specks of white fire flaring off their hulls as their thrusters worked overtime. “2,” A flash of green struck the center of the gun, almost like lightning, before flashing throughout the rest, overpowering the mist. “1.” A pencil thin, sharp green line shot forth from the inside of the gun. Like a laser, it flashed forward barely visible were it not for its bright glow. As it neared the fleet, it suddenly split into many threads, each spiraling off, turning at sharp 90° angles. The threads struck each ship, the initial strikes hardly noticeable were it not for the sudden implosions that followed. Each ship puffed up as the metal disturbingly warped, before seemingly bursting at the seams with fire. Even the Nias, which dropped hard in an attempt to lose it, was struck by a thread, imploding in much the same way the others did. The remnants of the shattered fleet scattered briefly, but strangely enough remained in the air, floating in a thick collection of smoke. Explosions continued in certain parts of the wreckage, no doubt auxiliary systems that were not completely totaled from the initial strike. The gun’s glow faded, though like a burst pipe a blast of steam shot out through the back and into the Wolfsbane’s front. --- Myra didn’t bother contacting the Menaulion. Her thoughts, following her eyes, were still focused on the silhouette above as the emerald glow of its gun dimmed. “Kill him.” The words spilled from trembling lips, dripping with venom. The unexpectedly painful sting of betrayal coursed heavy through her veins. The Nemea turned towards the Highlander, the very light that played off the Wolfsbane pouring over her machine. His was cast in the shadow of clouds that shifted under the weight of the opposing army. “Should I take that as an order, Jingo?” “Yes.” The hesitation that lingered in her throat burned. “Whatever it takes, you have to do… what I can’t.” “Get going then,” he replied, machine reaching for the rifle at its back. “Meet ye back aboard the Menaulion in a few.” “Keeping you to that.” The Nemea signaled for the others to retreat. The other two (however reluctantly) followed close behind, leaving the Highlander to climb the mountainside alone. Chunks of gravel tumbled down the mountain as the machine marched towards its crest, kicking up plumes of dirt that settled downwind. Each step forward was filled with purpose, a desperate search for the warmth of the sun that peeked out from between the clouds. There he could see the Wolfsbane. “All things considered…” Sean’s voice crackled over Cain’s radio. “I’m glad that it was ye.”
The Highlander braced its rifle against its shoulder as it reached the mountaintop, targeting systems locking onto the massive weapon in the Wolfsbane’s hands.
Click.
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