258 replies to this topic

[cmopatrick]

It looks to me like at least Spokes' 'Mech moves smoothly, maybe she is just tired and I overreacted to another old memory. Well, maybe I'm tired too.

That reminds me, I think this is one of those rare times for my mission lift. I leave the throttle at trim and pull my bottle of gold from where I hide it. That doctor on Solaris has saved my weary rump a lot of times with these things... of course, I probably bought him a yacht and a long vacation to some tropical island with what I paid for the original hundred, but that is another story. Anyway, now is another time to pull me to where I can function for another thirty straight hours... I fear I will need it. I shake one of the small gold pellets onto my lap, close the bottle, stow it away, then lift the tiny tablet to nestle under my tongue. It dissolves rapidly and while I am neither jumping with energy nor suddenly a mental giant, I know from experience that I won't be nodding or fighting hallucinations while I’m trying to survive.

“Ok, folks, we're closing on lance position, you may dance your way from here on out. Oh, spotters, it probably goes without saying but if you have substantial fire, collapse towards the center while maintaining, and calling, your target. I'm sure both of you can brawl, but I suspect that while we still have ordinance that you can help lock, Havok would like us to use it to greatest effect. Once it's gone, well, we go to plan 'g' or whatever we are at by then. Oh, and if we are overrun, make for Havok Lance while I try to get them to friendly themselves.”

I look at the dense forested hills not many klicks in front of us and imagine that any backwater commander worth a fraction of his pay will have at least some part-timer sitting out with field glasses and some kind of range data with which to refer in an arty strike. Heck, even without the light amp on, I can see the craggy hills south of us barely ten klicks and much more defined mountainsides no more than twenty five kilometers SSE; the average 10 year old up there with a map, a radio, and too much caffeine could call us in.

“Ok, Lance Two” I begin, “no clue if any or all of you have your default 'Mech loadouts. Just to set the record right, I'm down one small laser and am very careful with one of my three mediums. Otherwise, stock 67 'Goose. Anything I should know about the rest of you or your rides?”

I switch to heat, the IR showing mostly ghostly gray, with just a few tiny distant glimmers that appear and vanish like twinkling lights. Any time other than a flanking prelim to a battle and I would think them just momentary pixel errors; I have no such delusions here... they could be animals going about their nightly routines oblivious of the interruption we are about to provide... or... they could be spotters, infantry, or even well concealed vehicles. Over to the monochromatic green of the light amplifier, gotta trust my instincts even when I can't be sure of anyone else's.

(edit: corrected a word and a couple punctuation abnormalities)(second edit: added a clarification, the "ten year old" bit)

Edited by cmopatrick, 20 March 2013 - 04:26 AM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

It was late, or early depending on how you looked at it. Looking out his viewport there wasn't much scenery to behold, so Billy thought about the last time he was able to take Swampthing (Why do I always end up with mechs with that name?) here out.

This is decent country

Billy reflected as he stomped his Wolverine on down the path. Of him passing small hamlets and the small homesteads that the locals here lived in. A near endless sea of grassland rolled onward to towering mountains and wooded hills. He chuckled when thinking about how he Twisted his mech's torso side to side and noticed a trio of dirty farmer types forking straw into an archaic looking wagon. Periodically the youngster of the bunch would stop to stare, only to be told by one of his seniors to get back to work. Chuckling during one exchange, Billy waved his mech to the youngster who after a pregnant pause, awkwardly waved back.

Poor kid. Probably dead already, or won't live to see the end of this war. Just like the rest of us.

He sighed the thought away and stabbed away at various buttons on his console with a sausage like finger

Well if I have to die, I can think of a lot worse Rocks to do it on.

Chuckling lightly at the morbid thought, the x-pirate began flipping toggles, removing all safeties for his weapons and arming the ton of 60mm missiles cradled within his mech's torso. Sighing he sat back and listened in as the other members of the unit chit chatted back and forth for awhile before he keyed his mike and asked the question that he'd been wondering about for awhile now.

"Are those flyboys gonna be sticking around to lend a hand if things go South, or are they just fluttering around to look pretty?"

Edit: Oops it's nighttime not daytime

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 20 March 2013 - 12:48 AM.

[Spokes]

Li eased her 'Mech into position behind Shades' Shadow Hawk, trying not to feel too relieved. In theory her own 'Mech was in the same weight class, but the Hawk's much heavier armor would better handle whatever surprises the Loyalists had in store for them. She hoped 'better' would be enough.

He can't be happy. I wouldn't be. I wasn't. Oh what a mess.

The command couch rocked back and forth in a familiar cadence as the minutes passed. She felt better now that they were moving again-- there was enough going on to occupy the parts of her mind that wanted to panic.

The tactical display showed the relative positions of her Lancemates, along with range and vector data. At first glance, it appeared as though the other three machines were shielding her, but the more Li thought about it, the more it made sense. Her particle cannon had a nominal range of about 500 meters, far enough to reach targets beyond the skirmish line. She looked up at the forward display, her targeting reticles floating off to the right of the Shadow Hawk. Anything that tried to slip behind Shade would move right into her line of fire. Tog really did know what he was doing.

“Ok, Lance Two, no clue if any or all of you have your default 'Mech loadouts. Just to set the record right, I'm down one small laser and am very careful with one of my three mediums. Otherwise, stock 67 'Goose. Anything I should know about the rest of you or your rides?”

The confidence in that voice was reassuring, even through the filters.

"Two Lead, Spokes. Stock One N here. My PPC has some problems with static build up. There can be a bit of a light show if it decides to arc."

Li thumbed off her mic and. . .wait, 67 'Goose? She had Virgil rescan the little 'Mech, and sure enough the fancy bits disappeared from the read out. She'd assumed TOG had lasted as long as he had because his higher ups had wanted to keep his LosTech machine out of harm's way, but now. . .maybe he was just that good. You don't actually need that BAP, do you old man?

Spokes worked her fingers deeper into the padding on the control yokes, the faceplate on her neurohelmet hiding her smile.

"Ok Shiv, you and me. Let's go see what this Marble Palace looks like. . ."

Edited by Spokes, 19 March 2013 - 10:28 PM.

[cmopatrick]

I've been watching Spokes for a bit and am getting a little of that same worry feeling again. The Scorpion's movements are fluid, but she is also mostly walking in a straight line and seems to be holding a constant speed. The other two and I might seem to a distant observer to be piloting slightly drunken 'Mechs, we already have just enough of a weave at the stick and variation of the throttle to make a gunner hesitate. Spokes, on the other hand has perfect motions around obstacles, but none of the tactical wiggles to help keep any unseen opponent guessing.
Well... am I overreacting?
If I say something and it is just tiredness, it might hurt her confidence or her trust in my lead, if I don't and a couple of gauss emplacements can rip her cockpit apart in one opening salvo, I will have sacrificed her for my pride. If I make it a general comment, will the other two think I mean them?

I have walked maybe a hundred meters before an answer presents itself... make fun of myself for doing it. Not a perfect answer, but then again, better than nothing.
I open the main, “Duncan, please feel free to remind me that whenever I walk a straight line I'm doin' a beeline for that final pine box. I swear, sometimes I think I lose track of reality faster than... ooops, sorry out there, keyed live when I shouldn't have.”
I drop the connection and almost immediately, Duncan asks, “What are you talking about? You haven't been walking dead stick for five minutes; dead in the head, maybe, but dead stick, not so much.”
Some times I understand why the ai verbal unit is turned off or toned down in so many 'Mechs. This is one of those times. “Bite m e, Duncan.”

The Battlemap gives me another moment's pause, we are still in open farmland, but the units in the main body of the assault south of us are probably already dealing with terrain difficulties. Any delay and we will be all alone... two lances stuck like a finger into whatever loyalist commander's eye, and a feint would make that all the more dangerous. Maybe Shepherd is the one more exposed.

I have to wonder, shouldn't we be hearing from Havok about going radio quiet some time soon? Should I ask about it?

I'm starting to second guess myself. What lesson am I overlooking? I didn't want to lead anyone tonight, but here I am. I know the tactical realities, but there is a reason I haven't become an officer over the years. Ok, that isn't fair, there are about a dozen reasons. But as I step into another field ripe for harvest, I have to wonder: what am I going to scr-ew up next?

(edit: dropped MTC reference)

Edited by cmopatrick, 20 March 2013 - 06:46 PM.

[Janitor101]

Havok scanned the battlemap, the advance was progressing smoothly, the only contact that had been reported was all the way at the south end of the line, up on the Grand Khaddars slopes.
And it troubled him no end.

The advance was happening way too easily, Antonio was waiting for something to go horribly wrong, such a blatant and unprepared attack was progressing far too smoothly.

Havok glanced at his company's positioning, and decided to make a tweak to Havok Lance's positioning.
"Bones, on me, we're gonna take up Fire Support's right flank. Fishy, you take the left side."

[cmopatrick]

Unexpectedly, I discover we have been on something of a plateau for the last klick, now a scene of immense pastoral beauty opens up before us. In the distance there is a band of trees that implies a river or at least a large stream. Nearer at hand, there is a large barn set near broad fields, some of which show signs of being recently harvested. Almost directly in front of me maybe six hundred meters out are a set of largish grain silos, no doubt filled with the bounty those fields have provided.

Hmmm, I'll need to give them a wide berth, I never walk a 'Mech close to what I can't see over, around, or through. I think Shade and Spokes are Ok with their current line, far enough out from anything that they should be safe. I think I'll swing towards the 3L, at least until I've cleared the silos and we can redo our line, don't want him exposed without being able to keep eyes on him.

(edit: added a few words to clarify various thoughts)(second edit: changed initial range to silos from 300 meters to 600 meters)

Edited by cmopatrick, 21 March 2013 - 06:51 PM.

[Spokes]

"Two Lead, Spokes. Got what looks like a work crew up here with a firepit, no other contacts." There's a brief pause. "They covered that pit and took off awful fast though. Out."

[cmopatrick]

"Did you see where they went? Did they remain on foot? Oh, by the way, 'TOG' is quicker to say than 'Two Lead'... if that makes a difference."

While I await her answers, maybe i need to be a little more proactive.
"Duncan, comm frequency scans, please."
"There are three Mano Rock stations and several others that are playing serious..."
"Scan for sequenced transmissions that might indicate enemy units, please."
"But all work and no play makes..."
"Not now, Duncan."
"Today is the first day of the best of your li..."
"BITE M E!"
"Scanning as requested."

I wonder if I should stall my movement right... maybe a quick fan loop or two on the left would help us determine what these running folks are up to. I feel so out of place, these stupid silos couldn't have been in a worse position for my movement, and now I'm becoming indecisive.
No, i think my plan is fine and i keep 'Goose heading towards Shepherd.

Edited by cmopatrick, 20 March 2013 - 07:53 PM.

[Alan Wagner]

Military Base Outside Jarrund City, Kharkand
2:30 xx October, 3055

Alan could feel his stomach work itself into a knot when he noticed the Dervish's shenanigans. First it took off leaving him behind, only to vastly undershoot his pace before finally bringing himself in line. Alan suspected that his partner wasn't aware of the centurion's capabilities, that it was designed to provide fast fire support 'mechs like the Trebuchet and Dervish with a well armed and tough as nails 'older brother' to keep an eye out for them on the field. The centurion could attack at almost any range and his in particular could take a hell of a beating for a 'mech its size. Speed wasn't a priority and so his cruising speed was 43 km/h. Most pilots knew this, particularly pilots inside Lyran based 'mechs like a Dervish for example.

His suspicions were finally confirmed when the Dervish began firing its lasers, presumably to test them. The knot in Alan's stomach sank and he sighed leaning back into his command chair. It was official, his partner was greener than the medium lasers he was firing. Alan pushed his nerves aside and opened a comm to his partner doing the best he could to sound friendly and keep the dread out of his voice, "Hey watch it with those lasers will you? That light can travel far in the dark and we're going to need every bit of surprise we can get. If we run into any contacts, just fire as many missiles as you can at whatever I aim for okay?" Alan ran over the battle strategy once more in his mind.

The Dervish and the Centurion had a very well matched capabilities, they could strike together at almost any range which Alan was hoping to capitalize on. Their first priority would be to hammer any targets they came across with as many LRMs as possible; thankfully, they had a rather large number of scouts, many of which seemed to have TAG units so that part of the fight would be easy. Once the LRMs ran out though, the Dervish would be completely helpless at a range. This normally wouldn't be a problem, the Dervish was incredibly mobile and packed a heavy punch up close, even heavier than his Centurion. The problem was that he wasn't sure his partner could actually accomplish that safely. Their best chance would be for him to keep hammering targets at a distance with his PPC while the two of them kept any 'mechs that made it past the front line at bay with their close ranged weaponry.

He gave a breath of relief when Havok ordered the lance to cover their flanks. He sent a silent prayer Havok's way and sat up in his chair a bit. With the lance covering the sides, he'd be free to focus his attention forwards and look for targets. Hopefully they'd keep the Dervish out of trouble as well. It was only a matter of time until things got more exciting.

Edited by Alan Wagner, 20 March 2013 - 09:13 PM.

[The Shepherd]

James listened to the comm chatter passively, keeping his concentration firmly fixed on the eerily green light-amped landscape. He already knew the loadout of his own lance from observation in the mechbay and actively scanned all seven other mechs as they emerged from the base. The data was in his sensor logs for recall to a secondary monitor if he needed it.

As the flat stretch he was now traversing stretched out before him, he made sure to twist back and forth through the Raven’s torso’s full range, watching for a hint of movement. Nothing so far.

He’d only been a scout for a relatively short time compared to the rest of his piloting career, but he’d already picked up on things that most pilots don’t look for. Furrowed ground, depressed foliage, residual heat patterns on the IR screen...
The IR screen.

James swore loudly as he flicked into the cool grey, heat sensitive spectrum of his HUD. There was nothing out left that he could make, but...
He swept back right to his assigned quarter...there. Movement.
He dragged his reticle over the squat, slowly moving signature, finding its range. 505m.

Swearing again he marked the contact and its travel direction on his sensor screen. How could he have let it get that close? He flicked back to the Light amp mode of the HUD and realised his error. The headlights had obscured the detail of the contact behind a white blob. Now more in profile than his last sweep right, he made out the relative detail of a militarised car. Flicking back to a regular filter he laughed out yet another swear. He could have looked right through the glass of his cockpit and seen it a klick away.
But he hadn’t.

“ ’ave movement. ‘prox’ 500m forward and right. Light military car. Nuu signs o’ arms yet. Marked and sendin.” He barked out the sharp reports and tightbeamed the screen report to his lance and back to Havok, hoping for line of sight.
“What’re ye doin all th’way oot ‘ere ye crawling bastad?” he asked himself aloud and kept flicking through his vision modes, hoping to make out more detail or more contacts in the area beyond.

[The Shepherd]

“Hmm.. wha’ nouw?”

The car James was watching had pulled off of what was an attempt of a dirt road. As the rangefinder counted down closer to 350m, the novice scout zoomed his view, still cycling views.
As it pulled behind a couple of large trees, it rolled to a stop. James held the cycle locked on his IR feed as the heat signature of a person emerged from the driver’s side, behind the vehicle, slightly obscured from view.

The highlander’s brow furrowed. He was running his mech without any light sources, bar what was visible from the slight glow of his cockpit. The ground here was fertile and soft, reducing the distinctive thud thud thud sound his mech’s crowed feet made as he cantered across the farming plain. A keen eye could have spotted the slight glow bobbing in the distance... or a watchful eye.

The car worried the novice scout. He hadn’t survived as long as he had without developing a sense for imminent danger. And he felt a heavy feeling in his gut... If the car was equipped with an IR tracker however, he’d be standing out like dogs’ proverbials right now. And only a military spec vehicle would have an expensive IR tracker on a backwater planet like this.

As he tossed his options up, the figure behind the car appeared to stand up, lean on the hood and point something in his direction. He was still too far away, but it looked like binoculars... or some other sort of gear...

James’ eyes widened.
“Brrreak brrreak!” he barked loudly over comms. “Vehicular’s a likely spotta! ‘E’s pointing summot mah’wey! Looks like range-findin gear. Leads, w’could ‘ave ind’rect incomin soon!”

The alarm in his voice wasn't entirely forced for urgency. Wide out in the open like this, they’d make easy marks, even at speed.

[cmopatrick]

“Brrreak brrreak!” Shepherd's excited call shatters any semblance of quiet on the comms. “Vehicular’s a likely spotta! ‘E’s pointing summot mah’wey! Looks like range-findin gear. Leads, w’could ‘ave ind’rect incomin soon!”

Shepherd's contact is hot, need to kill it... well, better ask, "Havok, probable contact, Request permission to laser the bas-tard into oblivion... with extreme prejudice, of course."

In the mean time, "Duncan, battle protocol. Battering ram, 140bpm, volume to 3."

I push the throttle up and close towards Shepherd's wing...

(edited for punctuation)

Edited by cmopatrick, 21 March 2013 - 01:37 AM.

[Janitor101]

Havok's head whipped around upon hearing the frenzied communication between Shepard and TOG, and Havok himself responded.

"Advance and check it before you kill it, there are a lot of civvies out here, and I don't want to have to report killed civvies, you hear?" He ordered, putting emphasis on the desire to not kill civilians.

Havok pushed his throttle up from cruising to just under full speed.
"Havok Lance, let's pick it up, suddenly this seven hundred meter spacing seems too far."

[dal10]

Mist crested the hill with the rest of havok lance to look upon the farm land. The first thing that caught his eyes was the grain silos, if hit by heavy weapons, they could easily destroy the entire unit. a section of siding from those if launched from the silo blowing could easily cut his Charger in half.

Mist debated if it was worth getting everyone worried over the silos, as the only weapon they had that might set it off was PPCs.

it easily could destroy both lances, however it would take a pretty heavy hit to blow it, the scorpions ppc or maybe a missile barrage would have enough juice to set it off.

While still in his musings an alert popped up on the screen, the barn that the 2nd lance had a yellow (means unidentified) signature inside it.

What is that... it can't be anything with a fusion engine, my sensors would be going crazy if it had a fusion engine... could it be some farmer turning on some equipment? no... can't be, no sane person would still be farming in the middle of a warzone... maybe they started up a car and are going to get out of here maybe? on the other vein however it could be an enemy vehicle... i should call it in.

“Brrreak brrreak!” he barked loudly over comms. “Vehicular’s a likely spotta! ‘E’s pointing summot mah’wey! Looks like range-findin gear. Leads, w’could ‘ave ind’rect incomin soon!”

****... if that was a spotter, the signature in the barn was way too convenient.

"Havok Lance, let's pick it up, suddenly this seven hundred meter spacing seems too far."

"Havok, i have an unidentified signature in the barn lance 2 just passed by. it doesn't have a fusion engine, so it may be a farmer. the timing between it starting up and that spotter is too convenient however."

As the scout lance passed about 250 meters away from the barn, the thing in the barn turned on the lights, the building disguised exactly what it was, but that could not be good.

Though with this he noticed that havok lance was starting to speed up. Mist hit the throttle, causing his LTV 400 engine, which weighed more than any other mech in the company (56 ton engine) to roar to life as his Charger accelerated to its max speed of 85.6 kph.

"Havok, signature in the barn just went active, still no idea what it is, but permission to engage?" (if it is a demolisher i am going to be annoyed.)

[Alan Wagner]

Military Base Outside Jarrund City, Kharkand
2:30 xx October, 3055

Alan began cursing vehemently to himself as the comms came to life with reports from Lance Two. He leaned forward slightly scanning his sensors like a hawk for hard targets as he picked up his pace to stay with his lance. He ignored the vehicle spotted by Shepard and focused on the barn instead. Even if it was in range of his PPC, Lance Two could easily obliterate such a target in seconds. The barn was much more menacing to him, an unknown, and behind Lance Two to boot. He aimed the PPC at the heavy wooden doors of the barn waiting for confirmation on any threats inside.

If these were farmers, they picked the wrong time to get busy. Deep down he knew they weren't farmers though, they couldn't be. No farmer gets up at 2:30, not on any planet. Farmers get up early, but they need some light to work by. These contacts were clearly a response to their presence. No civilians would behave this way unless they were acting as vigilantes for the loyalists. He was in no mood to kill a civilian, but they were putting themselves in a position to threaten the unit and they would have to guarantee their safety wouldn't they?

He opened his comm to Havok. "Awaiting fire orders sir." he sat there his cockpit feeling eerily quiet as his gaze focused on the heat signature in the barn his reticule was locked onto.

Edited by Alan Wagner, 21 March 2013 - 05:06 PM.

[The Shepherd]

"Havok, probable contact, Request permission to laser the bas-tard into oblivion... with extreme prejudice, of course."

"Advance and check it before you kill it, there are a lot of civvies out here, and I don't want to have to report killed civvies, you hear?"

Good man.

James' lips pursed as he kept his eye trained on the figure behind the car. He hadnt even brought his lasers up to bear on the car, let alone had a thought cross his mind that this person was definitely hostile. Perhaps he should have been calmer over the comms?
No. If he was in fact a spotter, the others needed to know the possibility and its importance.

"Aye, checkin'im oot. TOG, let's just scare th'crap oot o'im. warnin shots onlay. Copay?"

James throttled up to full and ran straight at the trees,making sure to swing in between the contact and TOG's 'goose.
Just in case.

(Short post for more info on the car... and to see what someone will do when 35 tonnes starts sprinting right at you )

[cmopatrick]

"Advance and check it before you kill it, there are a lot of civvies out here, and I don't want to have to report killed civvies, you hear?"
Huh? Yeah, this must be that eccentric loyalist ornithologist out before 3am to collect a rare Raven for his life list... at the spotting end of a goodly sized kill box. Guess I misjudged the lad badly after all.

But while I shake my head, an order is an order. “Copy. Investigating.” Only after I release the key do I realize that Shepherd has also keyed, probably at the same moment, and is saying, “...t's just scare th'crap oot o'im. warnin shots onlay. Copay?" Not only will he not hear my intended order for him to fall back, but the eager one is running his valuable 'Mech straight at the target and cutting off 'Goose to boot.

Well, if we live through this next hour or so to any point where we even pretend to have a breather, I’m giving Havok the damn lance lead back... herding lizards would be easier and a lot more satisfying.

“At least make a loop pass AROUND him and DON'T fire any shot not meant to kill, ya silly galah!”
“Duncan, safe the main trigger.”
“Done.”
Shepherd's 3L is a slug, I'm already at speed and pass the fool without effort doing a clean fan right about ten degrees off the line to target. At 36 meters a second, the light-amped green shows that I'm almost to the trees and I begin swiveling my torso to get a clear view...

(edit: added a few words for clarity... i know, bad paddy)

Edited by cmopatrick, 21 March 2013 - 06:56 PM.

[The Shepherd]

Despite the seriousness of the situation, James allowed himself an eyeroll.
"I'm no'the wun lookin t'torch th' damn thing ye crazy ol.." he said aloud. He checked. Comms closed. Good.

"Nuu, was plannin on sitt'n atop tha there tree ta get a betta look... 'course 'am loopin aboot." comms on this time. That made him feel better.

The Mongoose shot past his mech and looped around, James nodded and did the same on the opposite side of the copse of trees, torso, and weapons, now trained on the figure.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Uh-oh time to act.

Bill threw his throttle forward and began attempting to keep pace with Havok's Wolfhound. Then came the cries to scatter and reports of contact. As he listened to the chatter on the band, it became obvious that some of his fellow Rebs were as nervous as he was by the slight touches of panic creeping into their voices. Request for permission to fire, followed by commands to not fire until it was known if the 'farmers' hunkering down behind the vehicle were friendly or hostile shot back and forth on the coms as he floated his targeting reticule over the nearest barn, half expecting a SRM Carrier to bust out of wooden façade at any moment.

Without even thinking about it, he stomped down upon the pedals triggering his jump-jets. Laterally the Wolverine shot putting some distance between himself and Havok's Wolfhound, the whole time keeping his reticule over the barn. There was no need to make himself a juicy target for any Arty spotter. While casting a vile sneer as even more chatter cut across the com gear, he switched his sensors from IR over to Mag-Scan and suddenly smiled.

"Now ain't that a pretty sight!"

[Janitor101]

As Shepard draws closer, the man behind the car's head snaps over to face you, the man stumbles backwards, his heat signature dimming, apparently the road is muddy, cause he just slathered himself, he scrambles away from the car and dives into a ditch; unaware you can still see him.
A ray of moonlight illuminates the vehicle long enough for you to read the text on the side, announcing it to be a "Jarrund Birding Club" vehicle.
You just scared a birder absolutely shitless.

---

Mist approaches the barn, his Charger's footsteps shaking the structure.
As you approach, the main door is forced open as a Rommel MBT rumbles out, it's turret turning to face you.
You jam your stick to the right side, just in time to watch an AC/20 shell blur past your mech, missing by what seem to have been inches.

Your first instinct to run over and trample it is dampened when a pair of Patton MBTs roll out from the barn, one of them turns its gun toward you, while the other fires its AC/10 out toward Lance Two, the shot goes wide though.

---

Shade, just as you start to turn so you don't pass directly by the huge silos, a Commando darts out from under a large awning behind the silos and puts several SRMs into your mech's right arm.
The Commando sprints behind your mech and fires its medium laser into your back, before wheeling back and away toward the cover provided by the silos.

Edited by Janitor101, 22 March 2013 - 12:33 AM.