2
I just had the most amazing battle ever in Alpine Peaks. It was a tense game of cat and mouse, and we were using proper armor tactics right out of the manual. THIS is what I was hoping MechWarrior: Online was going to be!
"Head critically damaged," Betty's warm voice announced with a calm professionalism that I cannot match, as the cloud of LRMs falls all around me. "****!" I yell, flashing back on my every fear as an Abrams driver in a past life, my worst nightmares become reality as explosions rock my cockpit. I barely escape under cover and rotate my torso to protect my vulnerable belly.
It came down to me and my wingman. I had no choice. I had to get out of the withering LRM fire. My wingman is too far away, too far into the open. "There's only two of them, come back! We can ta-----" As I break line of sight, my wingman's radio call is cut short, and I see his IFF tag wink out on my HUD. Such an inconsequential, clinical thing. In my mind, I see my wingman disintegrate into a million pieces as enemy fire tears his mech asunder. In my ears, I can imagine his screams as the lasers cut him apart. I am alone.
I yell a battle cry born anger and poke my nose up over a hill, PPCs ready. I see an enemy Catapult edging back around and opening his missile bay doors. I don't have time to swivel onto him, but I happen to be pointed right at the Trebuchet I've been stalking for most of the map. With murderous fury, I unleash my 4x PPCs right into his right torso, cold satisfaction burns in my belly as I see him explode in a shower of sparks. I quickly get back under cover before the Catapult can lock onto me with his missiles. "That one's for FinalSonicX," I whisper, holding back the guilty tears.
We evade each other, sensors probing the cold air for our foe. I glance down at my HUD, wishing I'd sprung for a Beagle Active Probe. In jubilation, I realize I still have someone left alive on my side! I open my throttle to maximum and jump off a mountainside to regroup with him. It is hell on my legs, but I shouldn't need that armor, not in the battle to come. I quickly take stock of my battle damage. I'd lost track long ago, and the "Critical Damage!" warning has been flashing on my HUD since the first blistering engagement of the morning. I haven't had even the time to check it until now. The news is not good. Head is orange, Center Torso is yellow. Don't even bother asking if I mean Armor or Internals. My arms are mercifully still armored, and I haven't lost any of my weapons. I can still fight.
"I can't stand toe to toe with him anymore! I think I can take him out with three good salvos, but you're going to have to tank him!" I yell over the comm as I stomp into his vicinity. As I get close enough for visual, my heart sinks as I realize something is wrong. My compatriot is driving in a circle. Come to think of it, his IFF tag has been circling that section of map for the last several minutes. As he rotates into full view, I can see the problem. Most of the cockpit is gone, blown away by a DCD energy weapon (DisConnect Disco). We are supposed to be hardened against this type of weapon, but it's a common flaw in our Mech design. Sometimes, the ISP subsystem just can't handle the load. He was new to the Lance, and I'd never run with him before. I realize I don't even know his name. My previous elation evaporates, as I realize that I am now truly alone. Worse, I've lost sight of the enemy.
I force the bile back down my throat, and my expression hardens. I slam my throttle all the way forward, and stomp out over the peak, XL engine screaming in protest. I burst over the top of the ridge, throw my vision into Thermal, and began panning wildly, looking for a telltale glimpse of my enemy's silhouette. After several seconds, I realize he is not up here. I've lost him. Paranoia sets in, and I take advantage of my new Twist-X to increase my scan width. Nothing. The adrenaline that has carried me through the last several minutes begins to fade, and I realize that I'll have to force a contact quickly if I want to pull this off.
"Come out and face me, coward!" I yell out over an open channel. To my half-surprise, my radio crackles with an unfamiliar callsign: "You're the one who ran..." Part of me registers the fact that he is right, but I am too filled with the fire of vengeance to care. Then, almost as if my former Lancemates are warning me from beyond the grave, I have a nagging feeling that he snuck past me and is going to try to capture my base. Sure enough, Betty helpfully confirms: "Base is being captured."
"For FinalSonicX!" I yell out one last time over the open comm, and then I shut my radio off. Nothing he says can hurt me anymore. I can see him in the distance, moving slowly out of cover. I zoom in for one last shot, and as I do so I can see his missile bay doors open. With my Double Heatsinks, I have enough thermal capacity to hit him with a barrage of particle weapons that will wipe that cold emotionless stare right off his cockpit, but only if I hit with each shot. He launches his missiles, but I am a long way away. I have enough time to kill him before the deadly missiles hit. I will have a full honor guard in Valhalla tonight.
I get goosebumps as I depress the button. My quad PPCs answer my vengeful call and blue death streaks from my weapon tips, causing the hair to stand up in my arms. As the energy bolts streak towards their target, I see missiles launch. Less than a heartbeat later, Betty informs me that missiles are incoming, but I am dead to everything but this final, fatal, encounter.
My particles hit, and I hear them recharging. I lay my reticle back on target, noting that the missiles have already streaked halfway to me. It is going to be close. I press the firing stud for what I hope will be the final time. Nothing happens. "What the?" I press it again. Nothing. The missiles are still coming. After all that, it has come to this? My mech must have blown a fuse, and I can do nothing to stop the cloud of flaming gnats on their way to blot me from the cold snow where my crippled mech stands. The missiles impact, but I feel no pain. I marvel for a moment. What magic could this be? Then I look up at the mission timer, which currently reads: 00:00.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!"
Seriously, guys
Best. Match. Ever. But I don't even know how it would have ended!
