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[MacabreDerek]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard’s Walk,
Sigvald’s Light,
Lyran Space,
7th April, 3061, 13:06 Hours

Had she been out for so long? Hands shaking, Juri placed it over her face as she stumbled late to the briefing. "Way to show reliability Juri, how about next time you just stay in bed?" speaking to herself. The lights were too bright, it felt like it was burning her retinas, needles piercing and heated with a propane torch.

The pods were lined up, like coffins peppered throughout the hall. It pained her to know she was falling behind the rest, almost enough to warrant the morphine she craved to take it all away. It was either that, or in the words of her old lieutenant "Bam-Bam to the Brain Pan", but neither was an option right now. There was work to do.

Pale fingers caressed the capsule, the cooling of the steel and plastic made for a moment of ease, calm before the chaos. Looking over the simulators of her companions, Juri meekly settled in. Whether they would appreciate her at their side again after a long period of being in bed sick to her stomach from blood-loss that she had blacked out from earlier, or if they only saw the junkie with tubes sticking out of her in a blood stained white kimono, well, she would find out in a few moments.

Feedback overtook her Coms for the briefest of seconds, and the darkening of the pod was a welcome reprieve even as she called in. "B.B. Online, Loading Configuration Now."

STK-3F, Industrial Standard Stalker, the most common variant and out dated by centuries. Rugged, Tough, Flexible, it was beauty in and of itself. The missile-like design did not have the humanoid design many mechwarriors would come to rely upon, instead it was a weapons platform in its purest form.

And then the machine began to rumble, powering up, and she could hear in her head how Jiang-Shi would howl and screech as metal twisted coming to life, the monster of war she was inside could be no more real to her as the flood of tension gripped her muscles. In flesh, Juri was weak compared to her comrades, but inside a Battlemech, she was the biggest dog in the yard, more often than not literally.

Blood quickened in her veins, the rhythmic heartbeat pounding in her ears felt like it was becoming in rhythm to the metallic feet crushing debris underfoot. Enclosed in the pod, a deep breathe brought calm, the view-screen lit with the scene of beach and old buildings lining what seemed to be an abandon coastal city. Her imagination filled in the voids of the simulator, the smoke in her lungs of burning debris and the grey of war-torn sky. The worn plastic, artificial leather and plastic of the control panel begging for her touch. It was the feeling of coming home.

Stepping along simulated cracked concrete, Juri looks to the readings, looking over the panels that were beginning to feel all too real in this sealed pod. That all too subtle haze crept over the doubt and worries and replaced it with the sound of blood rushing through her ears. This is what brought her back to life, this was better than any medication that was pumping through her veins. The action, the mission, the razor-sharp focus that brought her to see the best of herself.

Red began to flicker upon the console, weapons fire was behind buildings deeper into the concrete jungle, many of the ruined husks stood taller than even Jiang-Shi... No, no, she was not in Jiang-Shi, she had to remind herself. Juri's breath tried to calm itself, for a minute she could see the imperfections in the sim, just enough to hear weapons discharge over the horizon. With a glimpse, she took in the length of streets, the make of buildings...

The first wall of concrete fell away like it was made of cardboard, Juri pushing the simulated war machine through the first of the buildings, a burned out husk of an office of some sort. Sound of broken glass and cracking wood splintered along the hull as she pressed forward, small warnings flashing that the light damage that was putting stress on the armour plates became another thing to bring her back into the moment, and again she could feel the splinters of debris hitting the cockpit windshield, like a calming rain.

"Seek, and Destroy." Juri whispered to herself.

...

Seek, and Destroy.

Edited by MacabreDerek, 24 June 2014 - 06:06 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard’s Walk,
Sigvald’s Light,
Lyran Space,
7th April, 3061, 13:25 Hours

Instead of finding Azman's Vulcan or even the expected Centurion Thom imagined Adrianna would be using, he found instead found himself firing into a pair of grappling mechs, a scarecrow looking Vulcan and a Dragon struggling with attempting to grapple with the greased eel moving medium mech. Usually being caught flatfooted like that would lead to some mental self chastisement, but he didn't have the time for that at the moment, instead he watched as his weapons shot into the grappling Dragon's invitingly waving rear, slagging armored paneling under a hellish blast of particle cannon and ruby colored laser fire.

Not even checking to see his handiwork, Thom whirled his Wraith about and threw the throttle forward even as the Dragon showed it's ire with T by spinning about to spew a stream of depleted uranium autocannon rounds at the Wraith as it raced off. Struck with hammer hard blows, the 55 tonner rocked forward as the shells connected with the TR2's left rear armor. Wincing as the sim pods restraints bit into his shoulders, Thom shook his head to shake of droplets of sweat dripping from his brow.

Reckless, Too reckless... Just what is Juri doing in a Dragon anyways? the Warlockian thought as he took a corner, fleeing from the heavy mech's onslaught, even as sixty millimeter warheads detonated about him, corkscrewing into a three story government-like looking building and drumming against his Wraiths bellbottomed like right leg and right elbow seconds after a blinding blue blast of particle cannon fire shot past the mechs hooded head.

...And that would be Cees. Well, hopefully it's him. I don't know how many more surprises I can handle.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was pleased. If his Terror's could catch him off guard the Falcon's would be in a seriously world of hurt come 'game time.' Juri's use of a Dragon was a bit of a shock, considering that nothing in her file stated her using anything but that archaic STK-3F Stalker of hers. As he raced his mech down a broad avenue towards a 'T' like intersection he reconsidered the thought that maybe it wasn't Juri at all in that Dragon. With that thought in mind he thought about what he would be doing in this sim if he was piloting the dreaded 'Bullet with Legs' design that the Combine warrior favored.

Why, I'd head for the city proper and wait biding my time watching seismic sensors while listening for weapon's fire... As that thought came to him, Thom looked on in horror as the building atop of the intersection's façade began to crumble as the bent up malformed nose of a Stalker came bursting out of the building.

"Ah, sh*t."

[MacabreDerek]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard’s Walk,
Sigvald’s Light,
Lyran Space,
7th April, 3061, 13:25 Hours

It took some time for the sound of rubble sliding off armour plating ringing in Juri's head to make it's escape. Thoughts raced and the tiny voice screaming 'Stop!' at the top of it's capacity was being drowned out by weapons fire from the horizon, the smell of burning ash-fault and and the occasional flicker of embers before the view screen. The twisting of I-Beams with ever push forward, raining of shattered glass falling like glistened diamonds, and all around her was urban decay, the bones of a once great coastal city left for scavengers to strip away, and among the husks of glass towers she prowled in the STK-3F Stalker, her Jiang-Shi.

It was the weapons fire that had her eye though. It was dim, though the sensors would make her believe it was dancing meters in front of her. As it so happened, it was.

The distance, a lone Wraith was pushing into the concrete jungle that had become her domain. The hooded mech was fast, absurdly fast. Whom ever the pilot was, he seemed to be in a hurry away from the fighting. Perhaps they were looking for a better positioning.

Slowing to reduce her seismic footprint and heat-emissions, she watched the flickering changes in broken glass. If she engaged the Wraith pilot would simply flee, and with all the cover available there was little chance to fulfill her mission objective. 'Seek and Destroy'. Juri shook her head for a moment, her medication was wearing off but .... Wait, when did she have time to take medication? How long had she been out here? Days? Weeks?

'Seek and Destroy' Juri would tell herself. She could not afford confusion, not at this point. It would all make sense when she pulled the trigger, when combat initiates and in quick and brutal moments finding that point where the hurt did not matter anymore.

There was a T-Intersection, clearly visible from the road-signs and through the spaces between the buildings. An ambush spot. Creeping slow to intercept, she would only have one chance to put this pilot down.

The seismic sensors were giving the Wraith's position on a direct intercept course. Patience, Juri told herself, he needed to be in a point of no return. The building that blocked the direct line of sight between the two might be tough enough to stop her forward engagement, if the on-coming rubble would not cause her to strip over herself. The Wraith can not run away, she would never get an opportunity to engage in such a worst-case scenario again for her quick-silver prey.

Looking carefully through the windows in the corner-office, the street was flanked by smaller buildings. If she could push him into those, keep him pinned, maybe with some rubble and some luck she could keep him in close. At that range though, there is no safe way to fire...

...No Safe Way.

Hand gripped the trigger-guard and flicked it open, removing safties. Leaning down to the SRM control, she reduced the 'armed' delay to zero... As soon as they fired, they were engaged and ready to blow. Calm gripped her, and for a moment everything was quiet. Just the waiting now, and dispite the enemy's speed, time seemed to be still.

Closer...

Closer...

NOW!

Jiang-Shi took it's first step in and soon the nose crashed into the office building. The initial resistance was minimal, the 'Bullet-with-Legs' design acting more like a nail driving into wood. The view screen threatened to buckle under the stress, the knees kicked through the shell of the building, screeching of metal and wood filled the cockpit, and then for a moment, a bright light with a very distinct silhouette growing larger.

Speed was met with sudden stop, and the loudest crash, then slow momentum forward. They had collided, and in this case mass seemed to have won out over momentum. Perhaps the enemy pilot tried to stop and gave her the advantage... Inexperience? Twisting the Stalker's torso with the Wraith wrapped around it's nose swung it into one of the side buildings, and Juri realized it was not momentum bringing them forward, but them both falling.

Through one building to get the ambush has lead into them both crashing into another, this one was not so sturdy. Black covered her screen as the rubble buried her view screen, Juri did all she could to keep her Stalker upright and upon it's target, struggling with the debris that scattered beneath them both.

Her finger on the trigger, nose buried into the enemy, she readied to group fire the quad laser and twin SRM packs into the point blank rubble containing both her and the target.

'Seek and Destroy'





"What's Becoming of Me?" the quiet voice asked.

[Spokes]

"The Ballroom", RAIV Drunkard’s Walk
Sigvald’s Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061-- 13:26 Hrs

The combatants in the city center were going at each other like wet cats in a bag and, more by luck than design, Li had managed to get out in front of them without becoming entangled herself. Fifteen minutes of slinking around the fringes of the battle had provided a welcome opportunity to shake out some of the rust and get a better feel for the simulator controls-- Li's virtual Scorpion was now huddled low in among a mess of pipelines and girders, its reactor in a low power state, crosshairs lined up on an intersection that was just inside her PPC's comfort zone. She didn't need her sensors to tell her where the battle was. . .the external pickups could hear the multi-ton conga line rumbling up the street just fine.

Li leaned forward in her seat as a Dragon came pounding through the intersection right under her guns. She let it go.

"First guy wakes the snake up. . ."

Ten seconds later another machine came trotting up the road-- looked like Cees' screwball chicken-walker. Li held her fire, reached down to slowly dial the reactor back up to full power as the Uziel passed out of view down the street.

"Second guy pisses the snake off. . ."

Her seismic sensors tentatively identified the next approaching target as a medium weight BattleMech. Li adjusted the crosshairs ever so slightly to settle where she figured the 'Mech's center of mass would be.

"Third guy gets the fangs. . ." She squeezed the right hand trigger just as the target bounced into view.

The emaciated Vulcan twisted up onto the side of its left foot, slid out of her beam before it could do any real damage and answered with the ultra autocannon mounted in its chest. High explosive shells splashed into the girders and plucked at the Scorpion's glacis plate.

"Wow, really?" Li's left index finger twitched up towards the SRM trigger, but the Vulcan shot out from under her crosshairs on its ion jets, just as the asphalt where it had been standing burned away under the mega-joule touch of a pair of emerald laser beams. The Vulcan's jump wash cleared quickly, unmasking the Mad Cat that was suddenly bounding up the cross street behind it.

"Oh hello!" The armored boxes mounted high on the OmniMech's torso erupted in a ripple of fire and smoke, and Li winced as she reflexively hammered her right knee up into a pedal that wasn't there. The Scorpion had only managed to partially disentangle itself from the damaged pipes before the missiles started raining down. . .

[Thom Frankfurt]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard’s Walk,
Sigvald’s Light,
Lyran Space,
7th April, 3061, 13:25 Hours

Thom's call sign was 'Bad Luck.' It was a left over from his academy days where an instructor nailed it to him stating that all of the young Warlockian's problems were just that, bad luck. Usually though the mercenary had the Dark One's own luck, always avoiding would-be snipers shots in the most unusual ways, bending over to pick up a crumpled K-bill, zig or sagging his mech right at the right time to avoid a gauss rifle shot, or even getting out of town just right before the law or some woman's husband got back into town. Yep usually he was very lucky indeed. Today wasn't one of those days though.

Watching the building disintegrate into the oblong visage of the Stalker, Thom had nano seconds to act. His first instinct to plant one of the Wraith's feet and dart down an alleyway escape the assault and try either double backing to the heavy fighting in the city or fall back upon the assault from another angle, a more advantageous one. But it wasn't in the cards, instead the sim program decided to toss, T some crumbling asphalt slipping out from under the Wraith's feet, throwing a hitch into the program.

Thom quickly found himself preoccupied trying to remain the medium mech's feet, which he managed to do, but he lost his opportunity to hit one of the alleys. So now he was presented with two choices, barreling into the heavier Stalker, or relying on the TR2's mobility to literally dance around the assault and race off into the night as it were. Zigging where he should have zagged, Thom slammed into the other mech with the jarring impact that felt like some tech just rammed the sim pod with a speeding auto.

The canned sounds of armored plating sliding across each other assaulted the mercenaries hearing, followed by the sim pod rocking crazily and tilting backwards amidst more canned sounds, this time of crushing ferrocrete and smashing glass. Even as the pod's lights lit up in danger read on the damage displays and sparks shot from one of the 'dummy panels' Thom fought on, trying to wiggle out from beneath the Stalker's bulk, landing repeated laser shots as the mechs flopped through the simulated buildings like two drunken lovers plopping down onto a seedy motel room's bed.

(not sure if I like that description or not)

With a final slam the pod fell still, it's monitor showing smashed masonry and twisted I-beams. Sounds of shifting rubble played lightly over the pods speakers hinting that the Stalker was stirring. Thom glanced at his damage display seeing the wire frame all red. Frowning he waved off another tendril of smoke from the panel while he stared out the 'cracked' canopy at the bricks.

More shifting sounds, followed by the humming noise of lasers discharging nearby quickly followed by the savage drumbeats of short ranged missiles exploding uncomfortably close.

F*ck this. Thom thought while trying to sit his mech up even as the pods sensors lit up with more damaged systems.

The masonry and beams slowly parted revealing the hulking form of the Assault mech standing menacingly over him. The behemoth slowly drew back one of it's hooved looking feet and stomped down on the Wraith's torso and Thom found himself quickly back on his back even as the pod's version of 'Betty' purred in his ear about his gyro being destroyed. But it didn't look like the Stalker was done as it reared back another hoof. Suddenly he found himself looking up at the Stalker blossoming red-orange blooms as several missiles slammed into it's side.

The assault mech stomped down it's foot and whirled to look in the direction that it's assailant's fire came from. And as it did some of the building debris slid off the mech, among them a jagged section of I-beam which shot down in Thom's direction, the last thing that T saw before all the lights switched off was the canopy shattering inward with the rifle cracking sound of the ferro glass breaking. Slowly bold blood red words scrolled across the main monitor.

YOU ARE DEAD.

Suddenly Thom thought about the last time he saw those words in those colors in that font, in a sim pod very similar to this one. It was back in '49, at NAMA, when he found his Blackjack floundering trying to regain it's footing as the most famous Centurion in existence, Yen-Lo-Wang, confidently strutted forward to deliver the coup de grâce. Suddenly a blinding white hot jolt of hate surged through Thom.

With a low growl Thom pulled himself out of the pod's control seat even as the techs outside worked on righting the pod. The lights were slowly coming up, as Thom tossed threw the neural helm back into its nest and tugged off the worn sweaty coolant vest in disgust. He was heated with the thought of the smug looking techs outside having a laugh at his expense, just as the NAIS and NAMA ones did. Laugh at him would they?

They are going to be sorry. All of them.

Hitting the egress switch, Thom was greeted with a hiss and a neigh blinding light compared to the pods dark interior. Outside there were some amused looking techs, but the bulk of them seemed to be overlooking one of the other pods, one pitching and dancing about crazily. Pulling himself out, the mercenary gave everything a withering look before storming off in nothing but his skivvies.

"Hey bud-" One of the tech's began shouting at him, but he ignored the man as the bionic staff sergeant said something to him. Thom ignored him as well as he continued storming off.
*************************************

"Hey, what gives Sarge?" asked technician Lommen, fixing the Staff Sergeant with a confused look. "Look here son, I know that man, and more importantly I know that look. He's all fired up and looking for a reason to hurt someone, best you stay away from him. Now run along and check the connection on that Vulcan pilot's pod, nobody has reaction times that fast.
****************************************

Swimming through the service ways, Thom avoided most of the encounters he'd no doubt find on his way back to the 'Pride. As is he had plenty with techs who no doubt were wondering why this mostly naked, bruise and tattooed covered knuckle dragger was swimming thought their work zones, but they offered no remarks or questions, instead of turning back to their work when the brute would growl out "Wat da funk you'sa looking at?"

Soon Thom found himself aboard the 'Pride floating his way to his Marauder, the Widow's Bounty. Clambering up the welded on rungs T quickly pulled himself down through the top hach and grasping the top of his control couch with a bruised hand he tugged himself low enough to open up the storage locker there. Form there he retrieved his gear, a well broken in coolant vest, a spare set of mag boots and his jumpsuit which would be sure to get some stares from the RAI crew, finally he reached up and pulled down his own battered neural helm. Qucikly he dressed, tugging on the jump suit, and after strapping on the boots raked a hand through his Mohawk.

"Alrighties... now's I'ma readies." He quickly retraced his steps, hoping to get back to the Ballroom in time for the fight to finish.
******************************

With a whoosh the doors opened to allow a now calmed down Thom to stomp his way back into the Ballroom. Connor studied the Warlockian, even as some of the other techs gave wary looks the mercenary's way. With battered neural helm in hand with the edges of a green coolant vest peeking out of the device, but it was the Clan Wolf jumpsuit that the man was wearing that drew everyone's attention. Dull gray with a red 'blood stripe' the attire had the markings of a Star Captain, apparently named Bartok. Shiny steel hued mag-boots completed the ensemble, and it was rather impressive looking on Frankfurt, but it was the murderous gleam in the man's eye that drew the Staff Sargent's attention.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 24 January 2015 - 02:42 PM.

[Listless Nomad]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard’s Walk,
Sigvald’s Light,
Lyran Space,
7th April, 3061, 13:06 Hours

Within the confines of the sim pod, Andrew smirked. While everyone else was off fighting and wrecking one another, he was walking up hills.

Nothing quite like a morning hike to clear the mind.

Due to his unfamiliarity with the movement profile and speed of the mech, Andrew had decided to forgo combat for the moment and get a feel for how the Mad Cat moved. In the distance, he could hear the digital explosions echoing, along with the occasional sharp bark of an autocannon. Currently, he was content to let them wear each other out. If the opportunity arose, Andrew would engage in combat, but for the moment he was content to test the movement characteristics of his new ride.

Cresting a small ridgeline outside of the city, Wheeler sighted his crosshairs on an HPG complex and decided to loose a flight of LRMs. He was curious to see if the simpod flight mechanics for the clan weapons matched the memories etched into his mind. He nodded approvingly as the flight spiraled tightly before impacting amongst the complex. In reality what he’d just done would be a sacrilege, and make him a pariah throughout the Inner Sphere. For now though he enjoyed the pretty explosions.

"PLEASED TO MEET YOU'S!! HOPE YOU'SA GUESS MY'S NAME!!"

The explosion of noise over the comms took Wheeler by surprise, and knocked him out of his complacent mood. He had a job to do after all. Torso twisting to the left to overlook the battlefield, Wheeler could see explosions and weapons fire from deep within the city. Every so often, the brilliant flash of plasma from jump jet plumes would jump out from amongst the buildings. The sight caused Andrew to furrow his brows. Jump jets would be an obvious advantage in close city fighting, and every instinct in Wheeler’s mind told him to stay at range and pick off stragglers. Unfortunately, Wheeler knew he could no longer put off testing himself. Gripping the command sticks for his “mech,” Wheeler began descending the ridge toward the city, and the battle that raged within. As he did so, Andrew could feel his body trying to rebel from within him. His heart began to race. He could feel sweat forming above his brow, despite the chill provided by his cooling vest.

Keep it together Andrew. Keep it together.

Andrew knew that he was being recorded during the engagement, and that the unit would break down the film afterwards. Showing anxiety and fear in a simulator battle would go over like a lead balloon with the other members of the team. Taking a deep breath, Wheeler closed his eyes and reached out with his other senses, focusing on the feel of the control sticks beneath his fingers, the simulated hum of the engine below him, and the rhythmic thumping of the mech’s feet upon the ground. As he gained speed and the mech broke out into the long loping stride of the Mad Cat, a strange intensity began to build within him. It had been years since he had faced combat, simulated or otherwise, and he had forgotten the adrenaline rush that comes from being at the helm of a multi ton war machine. Almost subconsciously, a grin spread across his face. In the reflection of the view screen the Jaguar pilot smiled back.

Almost immediately after entering the outskirts of the city, his sensors began to bark, reporting rapid movement perpendicular to his line of travel. Wheeler had run an intercept course in an effort to get ahead of the conga line of mechs he’d observed making their way through the city. Managing to get onto a wide boulevard, he raced toward what he believed to be an ideal ambush spot. As he went he watched as not one, not two, but three mechs approached his position, chasing one another while completely oblivious to the very lethal clan mech in their midst.

Before he could get to his ideal spot, the first mech flashed across the boulevard, appearing for just a moment. The second mech, an Uziel, fired a PPC as it crossed, still oblivious to the larger mech bearing down on it. As the third mech began to cross the street, a PPC erupted from an industrial site, narrowly missing both the Vulcan and his Mad Cat. Immediately his sensors identified the ambushing mech as a Scorpion.

“Blake’s Blood! How did she get the drop on all of us?!” Wheeler wondered aloud. Suddenly less confident of his warrior’s prowess, thoughts of being ambushed and stalked through the swamp began to creep back into his brain.

“No! Not now!” Wheeler practically screamed, and forced the thoughts from his consciousness. The appearance of the Scorpion had distracted the Vulcan however, causing it to pause in the street and giving Andrew a clear shot at his rear torso. In a fraction of a second, Wheeler had centered his crosshairs over the skeletal form of the Vulcan and smiled as the twin dots pulsed gold. A moment later the twin ER Large lasers flashed from his mech’s arms, only to impact harmlessly on the ground. Almost supernaturally, the Vulcan had activated his jump jets, avoiding his fire and disappearing from view. Left with no other option, Wheeler adjusted his aim and launched an LRM volley at the hidden Scorpion without waiting for a solid lock on. Most of the rounds impacted harmlessly around the mech, but a few struck home, prompting the quadmech to scuttle backwards out of sight. Pressing his advantage against the smaller mech, Wheeler charged after it, and was greeted with a brace of SRMs slamming against his right leg. Before he could return fire, the smaller mech had sidestepped down another street and out of view.

“Verdammnt!” Wheeler was frustrated, and had to calm himself down. Against the more nimble opponent, Andrew knew that he’d stand no chance within the confines of the city. Studying his map screen of the city, Andrew set out to try to flank the smaller mech, and hopefully catch it unawares. A few blocks away, his efforts were rewarded with the lightening crack of a PPC shot narrowly missing his mech. Returning fire with his medium lasers, One of the emerald beams traced its way across the housing of the enemy mech’s PPC, but failed to do appreciable damage to the weapon. Buoyed by his small success, Andrew once again gave chase, hoping to trap the unusual mech and destroy it with his superior firepower. The mech’s versatility, and the skill of its pilot were not making the task easy however. The pilot’s reluctance to engage baffled Wheeler at first, especially within the safe confines of the simulator. As his mech turned onto yet another digitally created street, Wheeler couldn’t shake a nagging worry.

“It’s almost as if she’s leading…Blake’s Blood!”

Like an image out of an old Horrorvid, Wheeler couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Before him, chaos reigned. The area was filled with debris and smoke from a multitude of fires raging from what appeared to be a collapsed building. Suddenly, a pile of debris erupted in explosions and a form began to rise. His computer tagged it as a Stalker, but if Wheeler had not seen it, he would not have believed it. The front of the assault mech was mangled, with the underlying internal structure and armor mangled in such a way as to give it a gnarled maw.

As if it needed anything to make it look scarier…

Lying prostrate in front of the Stalker, his computer tagged a nimble Wraith, although the armor readout was not kind. Wheeler’s eyes widened when, rather than use conventional weapons on its enemy, the mech raised one of its hooves and smashed it down on the smaller mech, caving in its chest. At that moment, Wheeler became aware of the droning sound indicating an LRM lock and reflexively loosed a flight of missiles. Explosions blossomed across the side of the assault mech, drawing both its ire and its attention. As it turned to face him, the mech seemed to pause and settle in his stance, almost incredulous that someone would interrupt its thrashing of its prey.

“That has to be Juri” Wheeler mumbled out loud. The next moment he winced as the return fire from the Stalker battered his mech. A glance at the armor readout revealed moderate damage, but the digital clan mech had held its own. Throwing the throttle into reverse, Wheeler hoped to use his speed and range to pick the larger mech apart. Retaliating with his complement of large lasers, both impacted on the nose of the great mech, carving ugly scars across its ruined nose. Before Juri could return fire, Wheeler darted down a side street. Moments later, Wheeler could hear the plodding steps of the Stalker fade into the distance. For a moment the feral smile returned and he glanced at the street map outlaid before him.

“Lets have some fun.”

[Spokes]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard’s Walk
Sigvald’s Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061-- 13:26 Hrs

The sim pod rolled and bounced as Li slid her Scorpion around another corner, Wheeler's Mad Cat hot on her heels. Credit where credit was due-- Ballcap was keeping pace, something that was not always easy for a bipedal 'Mech to do on concrete. Li swung through another turn, flailed the machine about 180 degrees and into a backwards trot, a quick shake of her head, the secondary screen flashing damage as one of the legs clipped into a building. She pushed aside the urge to glance down at the simulator's battle grid, the third time that distraction had surfaced since her failed ambush. Her lancemates weren't there. . .she was going to have to find a way to scrape Wheeler off on her own.

Li was treading water by leaning on an old trick, using the Scorpion's low profile to shoot straight through the edge of the ground floor of the simulated buildings. The higher position of the Mad Cat's weapons meant it had to shoot through more building to fire down on her, making it difficult for Wheeler to reply. But it wouldn't last.

It didn't.

The Scorpion's PPC blew out the windows of a simulated book store, narrowly missing the Mad Cat's right ankle. Instead of waiting the three or four strides it would take to reach the intersection, Wheeler turned and levered the Mad Cat's rounded nose through the upper floor of the building, the torso mounted laser pods firing through the debris. One of the beams connected along the particle cannon's mantlet mount, burning away more than half the armor on the Scorpion's right side. Li crab walked her 'Mech down a side street, the "ping" of a new contact drawing her attention to the battle grid.

"Alright, you'll do, little Mysterious Red Dot. You'll do."


***********


Not-Virgil scrambled around the corner, and Li instantly decided that perhaps playing "peek and poke" with the 75 ton OmniMech had been the smarter choice.

The "little dot" resolved itself as a not-so-little assault 'Mech, the enormous machine pulling and stomping at the remains of a much smaller BattleMech. With the distinctive silhouette, there was no question as to who was at the controls of that two story monster. Li found herself keying the "sim-all" intercom.

"Jesus Juri, I think you got him. . ." The words were half swallowed in the roar of a flight of long range missiles, followed immediately by a deep pop-pop-pop-pop as the warheads expended themselves on the Stalker's thick hide.

For a moment, the machine's response was almost languid, the elongated upper body swiveling around to face to two new comers. The ruined frontal armor had buckled in several places, and the exposed frame snapped and gnashed back and forth as the simulator tried to figure out where the Stalker ended and the shattered Wraith began. Suddenly the cross street Li had been eyeing seemed very far away.

The Scorpion was still 200 meters from its goal when the warped creature at the end of the road exploded into motion. It threw its torso section all the way right, hard against the physical stops on the rotation collar. The over-balanced 'Mech tipped over on its right leg, snapped around, barely got its left leg underneath it in time to prevent a fall. The first step was just short of an uncontrolled lunge, the second was a wobbly mess, the gyro screaming as it struggled to keep the Stalker on its feet.

The third step was smooth as glass. Nothing that big has any right to be able to move that fast! ​Li kept her eyes focused on the safety of the cross street, her mind having to forcibly override her reflexes as she struggled to remember that the controls were not where they were supposed to be.

She almost made it.

The cross street was not as wide as it had looked from up the road. Li made to tuck the legs in close, realized she didn't know how to make the simulator do that. This time the leg that went into the building got stuck. Or it suffered critical damage, she never did find out which.

Two heavy laser beams reached out from the Stalker and seared through the armor on the Scorpion's port side glacis plate. Some program in the simulator decided that the heat flash from the lasers had set off one of the high-yield warheads in the missile storage bay, and that was that. Not-Virgil bloomed into a four legged fireball that flipped end over end and crashed through the roof of a building on the other side of the street. The sim pod pitched over with all the grace of an over-amped rock tumbler, and every bumper panel in the command chair suddenly seemed to want its turn hammering on Li's already bruised body.

It went on for so long that she was sure the machine had blown out a circuit.

When the pod finally settled, Li found herself dangling from the safety harness, looking "down" through the clear canopy at a pair of startled technicians on the deck below.

"Fantastic", Li muttered to herself, eyes scanning the console for the switch that would right the pod. "Way to leave me hanging Juri." She grinned at the YOU ARE DEAD banner scrolling along the primary display, started to shake her head, thought better of it as her neck muscles protested the weight of the neurohelmet.

Yes Juri, you're definitely "Deck".

[MacabreDerek]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard’s Walk
Sigvald’s Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061-- 13:26 Hrs

The view was covered in fire, shattered concrete and twisted steel. Darkness was filling the cockpit while Juri's finger held down the trigger with a near death-grip, the only comfort from the flickers of what felt to be silent flashes was the calming orange warning hues of the console, one after another lights flickered to tell her another issue has arrived in Jiang-Shi.

Yet in that one moment, with ruin over her vision, explosions that seemed to be still, that moment of time before the thunder of the Short-Ranged Missiles her hand had unleashed echoed among the surrounding steel, and sulfer would poor itself into her lungs with that sweet taste. Peace. For a moment, even that small voice in the back of her thoughts stopped, and Juri only hoped to hang onto this moment. This is why she wanted to fight again, this horrible wondrous contradiction, the line where there was no more fear of pain. A moment where her body would not betray her.

And like that it was gone...

The blast at point blank was not as loud as she had expected, it was sounding like a speaker close to blowing out. Green fire poured along the edges and carved into the iron and stone that piled on top of her and her prey, both buried in the rubble. Point Blank Annihilation.

It took a moment before her Stalker righted itself back upon it's feet. Pulling out the body of the Battlemech from the wreckage, the Wraith was mangled in melted debris. Internals were exposed in the crippled quarry, and the twitching was either electrical failure, or the pilot was still active, trapped. There was no way she would roll the dice on such an uncertainty, the mission she had been repeating to herself over and over again was still at the for front of her mind.

85 tons of monstrous war-engine raised it's foot, and then proceeded to fall forward, that old-steel hoof striking the chest of the enemy Mech. For the smallest of moments, it even seemed to support the weight of Jiang-Shi, but only for that, a moment. Squealing gyro and engine suddenly were put to a halt, and the internals of the enemy were pooring out gaping holes in it's armour, like squeezing a tube of tooth paste that just gets everywhere.

The pilot was now truly helpless. An inoperative mech, it's head on display, the cockpit leaning into remnant of their 'bed' he was left a lose-lose proposition; Eject and meet the broken an steel that would greet him in an instant, or the underside of her foot...

Raising the foot once more, there was something different about that voice that squeaked in the back of her mind, almost like it was coming from outside her own skull. "Jesus Juri! I think you got...."

Suddenly a force from behind, the Stalker fell forward before her command, the foot coming only a few feet short of it's intended target as several explosions rippled across her back. Off balance, Juri twisted the mech's torso to the side, momentum forcing a pivoted fall turning. The next step caught just in time to continue a 'sideways' fall as the hips of the behemoth adjusted for another swing of the torso, the huge weight pulling the mech further.

The last step was a sudden stop. The smoke that lingered from the blasts that knocked her off balance, and the sight that Juri beheld left her in wide-eyed terror. Standing down the street several hundred meters down was an all too familiar silhouette.

The heart in her chest pounded heavily, sweat dripped from her brow and felt cold as it dripped from her face. Once again her fingers gripped trigger and control, a quick judge of distance and sudden green with streaks of fire filled the distance between shooter and target. When did the Clans drop here? Why couldn't she remember mention? Questions that would not let go, something being horribly wrong.

Laser careened across the Madcat that stepped through the smoke as missile clashed upon steel plate. The iconic Clan mech barely moved as the heavy weapons burned it's hull, a testiment to the technology that bred such monstrosities, shurgged off with little visual effect. More concerning was the flashing red on the console "SRM LAUNCHER 2 JAMMED" flashing.

The enemy pilot decided to respond in kind. Sheering through plates and into previously exposed internals, the Madcat's lasers crused right into the inner workings of Juri's Stalker, and immidiatly the responce was apparent. The heat reading spiked, heat sink cappacity had been shut down. Not like this mech didn't run hot enough without the Clanner's assistance. Sparks were flying off the front plates and it seemed that just behind her the shooting dislodged something behind her, the ruins she had left the Wraith in critical condition collapsed, burying it's pilot. Juri couldnt help but have the tiniest grin to the properness of an on-sight burial. She may be joining him soon.

Taking a heavy step forward she began to close distance to the enemy, as it began to bait the chase, parting with laser fire and keep it's distance against the wounded predator she now played... Or was she now prey? The tiny smirk on her lips faded, a quick breath brought her attention to everything else around her. Everything was so loud, even her heart beat that she just now noticed there was a spectator.

A Scorpion was so close Juri could swear she smelled the sweat from the pilot's brow. What was it doing here? No, everything was confusing enough, her head was in a fog. Did she hit her head, a concussion maybe? No, no more time to think, just follow the directives. Those comforting words of focus left her lips once more.

"Seek and Destroy."

Two lances of laser fire left the Stalker to greet the Scorpion. This was the shortest encounter yet, to Juri's surprise something critical must have been hit, because almost immediately the pilot was forced to eject, and the small internal explosions quickly built upon themselves into a large fireball that blocked her way. What a waste, an unfitting end for any pilot, but the pity had to wait.

The Madcat was gaining distance, keeping the buildings between itself and Jiang-Shi. Stepping through the burning metal, there was only a glimpse that Juri caught of her Mech from the cracked mirror-like windows of a nearby office building. That was no Stalker.

It was some hellish thing that howled with the sound of ripping metal skin, broken bones of steel and teeth making a horrible maw that threaten to consume everything in it's path. This thing in her reflection that slithered through the burning remains of another victim, a horror of fire and slag that weaved through war-made hells insatiable, crying out in a garbled mess of technology and agony.

In that glimpse it was gone, and Juri continued forward, giving chase. Seek, and Destroy. It was what brought her comfort now, away from the hurt and confusion, it was now all consuming purpose and it must be followed. Destroy the Clanner, wipe any trace of them from this planet, drive them back.

Was she on Coventry again?...

That tiny voice echoed again, asking the same question before... And the answer was becoming a knot in her stomach.

[Sparks Murphey]

Adrianna’s Dragon shadowed the Mad Cat and the Stalker as they prowled around the simulated buildings. Both machines significantly outclassed her machine in terms of firepower, and the Mad Cat was level with her in speed as well. In a straight up fight, she would lose. Fortunately, this didn’t have to be a straight up fight. The Stalker showed some obvious signs of damage from it’s earlier fights with the Scorpion and Wraith. Between the two of them, it was most likely to lose. Time to even the fight.

The Mad Cat hung back at a corner again, slashing at the Stalker with it’s lasers and missiles before withdrawing to avoid the return fire. It was an action Adrianna had seen performed a few times now, and she was ready for it. As the Mad Cat turned to run down it’s next side street, she was there. The Clan machine hung in mid-step for a moment as Wheeler attempted to avoid the collision, but a collision was exactly what Adrianna was looking for. She took a few steps forward, ramming the Mad Cat with the stubby nose of the Dragon and driving it a few steps back into the crossroads. The machine guns and pulse laser of the enemy machine began strobing, but the other weapons hadn’t yet recycled from their attack on the Stalker. With a quick movement, Adrianna stepped her Dragon’s foot sideways onto the Mad Cat’s hip, taking it off balance and dropping it to the pavement.

When Wheeler got the Mad Cat back to it’s feet, Adrianna was nowhere to be seen. Juri’s Stalker, however, had used the time to close, and loosed a blistering volley of laser beams that tore into the side of the Mad Cat. A burst of 6 SRMs snarled from the assault ‘Mech into the hole left by the lasers, cutting apart the honeycombed steel that made up the skeleton of the ‘Mech. The Mad Cat turned, shielding it’s damaged side, and attempted to gain more distance down the street, rattling it’s own weapons into the already gaping holes in the Stalker.

No you don’t, Adrianna thought, as her LRMs chimed a lock. From her vantage point further up the street, the LRMs took flight, crossing the short distance quickly and exploding inside the already damaged Mad Cat. The right arm detached under it’s own weight and a flash of sparks indicated the missile launcher was probably done for as well.

Wheeler twisted his Mad Cat to find his attacker, but Adrianna had already backed out of sight again. Juri’s Stalker lashed out at the Mad Cat once more, green steam hissing from the rents in it’s armour like a noxious breath as the heat system was overtaxed. Wheeler returned fire, this time circling around his heavier opponent rather than trying for sheer distance. Flames burst from within the Stalker and like a marionette with it’s strings cut, it collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

That’s all I’m going to get, Adrianna thought, accelerating the Dragon down the street. Wheeler heard her footsteps and turned to face her, just in time for the Dragon to collide hard with him, knocking the Clan machine to the ground once more. Adrianna spun the machine on one foot, using the momentum to deliver a savage kick into the left side of the Mad Cat. She took a step back, then unleashed a burst of autocannon fire into the weakened armour. There was a flash from within, and the Mad Cat ceased it’s attempts to rise.

“Is that all of us?” Adrianna said aloud. I guess we’ll see how we measure up in the debrief.

[The Shepherd]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard’s Walk
Sigvald’s Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061-- 13:27 Hrs


It had been a full minute since Cees had lost sight of Adrianna's Dragon. The loping mech had looped back around and wide to cut back into the city and seemingly brawl with the other combatants. Caught in the open while shadowing her, he had grabbed cover, not wanting to risk a ranged slugging match with the long-range suited Kuritan mech. When he popped back out, he was greeted with the same distinctive double tapped roar of fire as before.

Damn but Azman is good. I must be at his maximum range and he's still landing shots. AND I didn't see him move to my flank.

The direction of fire was still coming from the city line, he could tell just from the impacts rattling him in his pod once again. The range spread the grouping of the Imperator U/AC-5 out over the whole of his bulbous mech's torso, plinking more armor off.
His BAP quickly painted a half profile of a sensor reading at about 600m, the skilled Vulcan pilot poking his Autocannon around a building and little much else.

Cees knew that despite the lack of effectiveness of the Vulcan's Autocannon at this range, it wouldn't take long for the HEAP rounds to wear him down and land a lucky internal hit, potentially knocking him out of the fight. In a split second, he made the decision to close.

Aggressively.

Jet-popping up over the small storage building he'd been crouching behind, he moved laterally before swinging in on a better angle. His slim adversary wisely held his fire until Cees started moving directly and steadily toward him. A single, focused burst of fire ate into his left torso. He braced himself for the double tap, but it never came. Azman was either out of ammo, or his sustained fire had jammed the Ultra Autocannon's notoriously touchy reload mechanism. In a fraction of a second, he corrected his aim, his computer having chewed on a firing solution well before the hit. 400 meters out, he triggered a savage double PPC blast. Both bolts of charged particles bit into the lighter mech's exposed torso and flash heated its ammunition stores. A rattling boom confirmed a jammed Autocannon as the remaining ammo cooked off. the CASE built into the mech's armor did it's job and saved the total destruction of the mech, but a slumped shoulder and dangling arm indicated that a whole side of it was all but dead weight. The slender figure backed around the building and luckily managed to keep its feet despite the reeling hit.

No, not luck, skill.

A glance at his own damage readout indicated he'd lost armor and his left machine gun from his own torso hit moments before.

A perfectly agreeable transaction.

Pressing the advantage he throttled up to full speed and blinked away the sweat creeping at his eyes.
Normally he'd try to stagger his shots rather than tie both heat intense PPCs to the same target interlock circuit, but with Azman's superlative piloting, he knew he'd only be given the chance for one shot at close quarters.

Keying his tertiary TIC to an alpha strike, he braced himself for the wave of heat about to come.
The Vulcan turned a corner one block in just as he breached the city.

With an acknowledged risk of double-thinking his opponent, he halted his advance sharply and waited at the first intersection. The gamble paid off as Azman guided his now wobbly mount on a lopsided jump back over the block his mech had just rounded.

The globe like head seemed to snap up to notice the Uziel lying in wait mid flight, but it was too late. The short jump couldn't be changed now. The ammo explosion seemed to have destroyed some of the agile mech's jet ports and robbed it of the needed thrust to dodge away.

Cees waited for half a second after Azman hit the simulated asphalt to pull the trigger. The gasping for air and swimming vision that followed did little to sap his satisfaction as he watched the Vulcan whip backwards from PPC core hits and seemingly be consumed by the 6 SRMs that slammed home immediately thereafter.
His auto shutdown triggered, but Cees didn't bother to hit the override, letting the cockpit die around him and the heat seeped away faster than normal. Grateful for the relief, he took a moment to blink sweat out of his eyes.
When he opened them, his jaw dropped.

Hobbling towards him, the mocked up wreckage that was Azman's Vulcan slowly, but steadily advanced.
Shock and panic gripped him as he began slapping controls to bring his overheated mech back to life. The Uziel had sagged down onto its chicken legged haunches, completely vulnerable to the heavily smoking specter of a mech. The view out of the shielded viewport was like something from a bad Leaguer horrorvid.
The projection showed almost half of the mech's upper body completely gone. The side torso's dead weight had seemingly snapped off completely, and the mech's structural backbone had melted and reformed it into a grotesque mockery of it's previous sleek and slender form.
If Cees hadn't been horrified that his target was still standing and about to reach him, he'd have been extremely impressed at the sim pod's rendering capability.

His mech was coming back online, but he could tell it was going to be too late. Azman's remaining arm was somehow still functional, and raising up like a club above his protruding cockpit.

Upper actuator power came back first, and Cees slammed his control stick over to get himself out of the way. The wild torso swing plunged the PPC barrel that made up his Uziel's left arm into the mess of metal and wires that used to be the Vulcan's torso.
The exposed gyro housing cracked like an egg and the muzzle punctured the spinning ball of metal like its soft boiled yolk. Stabilization gone, the mech jerked and freakishly corrected for Cees' movement, arm coming down on target, filling his view screen with metal.
The pod shook, all went black and the somber words "you have been killed" flashed on the screen. Immediately below, the words "mission kills:" flickered for a few moments, before the whole screen locked on angry block letters reading "ERROR".

He felt the pod rest back down on the base of it’s hydraulic lifts and waited for the hatch to pop open.
It didn't.
Slipping off the now soaked cooling vest in a hurry to escape the stifling chamber, he pulled his coveralls back on and un-dogged the hatch at the back manually. Technicians were waiting for him. All with bewildered looks on their faces. They instinctively offered him a hand out, but a red eyed glare deterred them.
He thought he caught the tail end of one saying something like, “...seen anything like it in all my years,” but his head was spinning too much to be sure. He clambered out and gulped down air, scanning the pod-bay. One of the younger technicians made to ask him something, but a hand on a shoulder and a shake of the head from the senior tech on duty wisely silenced him.
“Azman,” Cees practically gasped, trying to remember which pod belonged to his opponent.
As if on queue, a hatch manually popped across the way, and the gaggle of techs scrambled over.
The shadow of a man also refused help and pulled himself out, scanning the room. He locked eyes with Cees and held his gaze for a lot longer than normal people would have felt comfortable doing.
Cees and Azman were not however, normal people.

Cees bowed first. Not formally, it was a mere nod of the head. But he did let it pull his shoulders down, eye contact held the whole time. Azman bowed properly, much deeper but with closed eyes, rather than look at the floor.
Despite the order of occurrence and differences in custom, there was no concession by either party. Cees silently applauded the man. His skill on the field, and his tact off of it, were exemplary.

We all hold secrets in this group, but this man... this man is something else entirely.

They both broke eye contact at the same time and set to toweling themselves down and downing a waiting sports drink to re-hydrate.

Cees glanced at a wall monitor while guzzling the blissfully cool liquid and noticed Adrianna's Dragon standing over the simulated wreckage of Wheeler's Timberwolf.

"Is that all of us?"
Her tinny voice, broadcast on the open channel, was repeated out over the bay's speakers.

Another glance at the pod status displays lining the walls answered her question.
Thom however, oddly, was nowhere to be seen.
Cees sighed and pressed the intercom button on his Gantry, "Confirmed Dove. Looks like you carried the day. Well done."

He was surprised that he hadn't hesitated before giving praise. Especially as she had been the one to take down the clanner mech, and not him. After a pause, he continued, "please come out and we'll assemble for debrief."

A few weeks training together where we're not trying to kick the living daylights out of each other, and this expedition will go very well indeed...

[Spokes]

"Confirmed Dove. Looks like you carried the day. Well done."

Huh. That sounded remarkably genuine. Maybe it's just the blood pooling in my brain. . .

"Please come out and we'll assemble for debrief."

Li grimaced at the console, hands wavering over it thoughtfully. If I was a reset switch, where would I be? She'd already tried a number of buttons on the secondary panels. The little blue one brought up the pod's interior lights, the little green one toggled between aerial views of the other simulated combatants. Pressing it twice brought up a detailed statistical assessment of each pilot's performance-- swearing at it and mashing it a third time blanked the screen.

Ah ha! She reached "up" and hit a promising looking switch on the right hand control panel. The pod was immediately filled with the screeching, high pitched pop "music" currently in vogue in the Draconis Combine. She slapped at the switch a second time, the motion setting her swaying gently in the safety harness as the pod's speakers quieted. There was a gentle tapping on the canopy below her, one of the RAI technicians gesturing towards a hand lever down low on the left side of the seat. Li gave the lever a quick pull, and sure enough the pod settled in its mount and began to swivel upright. She looked back down through the canopy as the technician rolled out of view, drew a silent laugh from the man as she crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

_______________________________________________


The cool, dry air of the Jumpship was a welcome relief after the sticky heat of the sim pod. The others were milling about along the gantry way, the technicians mostly keeping a respectful distance as the MechWarriors caught their breath.There was a lone figure in a strange gray jumpsuit standing off to one side, away from the pods. Li realized with a start that it was Thom. The look on his face was intense, bordered on murderous. He met Li's gaze and then looked away, back towards the rest of the group. The statistics from the sim run flashed back into her head, and Li felt a fresh wave of sweat start despite the cool air in the simulator bay.

0 for 3 and counting. . .

Edited by Spokes, 24 January 2015 - 04:50 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard’s Walk
Sigvald’s Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061

His Terror's were beating the tar out of each other judging by the way the sim-pods continued to violently jostle about. Several techs continued to linger around what Thom had ascertained to be Azman's pod, checking then double checking the connections. Periodically outburst would rise from the technicians following particularly violent quaking of the pod, whoops and hoots. The mercenary overheard the words 'Vulcan Grandmaster' more than once. In a better mood Thom would chuckle at that, but not now, for he was still heated, his blood resting just below a simmer.

They don't know us, they only know me, and that's mostly by reputation. AzMan, Cees, Juri, Doc, Adrianna, and Li are all new faces.

Thom thought while moving over to the farthest bulkhead, the clang of the metal soles of his grav boots and rustling of his synth-leather jumpsuit the only sounds of his passing. Ignorant to the final epic exchange between AzMan and his XO and the technicians compliments upon the two MechWarrior's performance when they exited their pods, instead thinking about his Terrors.

AzMan is a survivor. If you stripped him down butt naked, hog-tied him and tossed him into a small room filled with wolverines high on angel-dust, and came back a few hours later, you'd find him roasting one of the critters over an open flame and dressed up like Davey Crocket, raccoon skin hat and all with a shrimp eating grin on his face...

Cees is a freak of nature, and that wasn't accounting for his albinism. The man is smart, borderline genius possibly, and a fine judge of character, and he seemed driven by something... Honor, glory? Vengeance more like, judging by the little dirt that the Warlockian was able to dig up on his XO.

Juri was something of an oddball, even among his not so merry band of miscreants. Shy and diminutive in appearance, with health and addiction issues outside of her mech, but when she was inside that Stalker's cockpit she was a berserking monster capable of the most extreme savagery as Thom witnessed firsthand in that sim run...

Doc Wheeler was something of an enigma to Thom. Smart, capable, Clan War veteran, and Solaris gladiator with the experience to pick and choose to join any unit in the FedSuns or Lyran Alliance and maybe beyond if he wanted to. The question Thom had to ask was why he didn't. Whatever the reason he was grateful to have an experienced combat medic in his band of cut-throats. And a MadCat certainly didn't hurt either

Adrianna was his Dove. No, scratch that. That was just something he just liked to call her. She was her own woman, independent, prideful, and certifiably genius. A weapon designer and engineer that volunteered for this chance to test her new weaponry firsthand against one of the most dangerous threats in existence. He just hoped that Quicsell garbage held together long enough for them to complete this op.

And Li...

Thom snapped out of his reflection as His Dove's voice cracked over the bulkhead mounted speakers.

"Is that all of us?" Her voice sounding tiny and distant, almost otherworldly. Thom looked up eyeballing the pods, seeing them all back in their 'home' position save one with a gray jumpsuited astech waving at the pod's occupant. Seeing this T took a few steps forward, concern chipping away at the impassive face even as Cees ever annoyed voice sounded over the bulkhead speakers in response.

"Confirmed Dove. Looks like you carried the day. Well done." Thom blinked at that, a compliment from Cees? Those came far and few between, perhaps the man was warming up to the rest of the Terrors.

About freaking time, Thom thought while taking a couple more steps to the side to look upon the belly-upped pod. Tech-boi was making gestures through the pods canopy at the occupant, soon afterward the egg shaped device began to right itself and return to it's mount. With a hiss barely audible to Thom at that distance, the pod's egress hatch yawned open revealing a flustered looking Li to pop out and catch herself upon the hatch's threshold with two hands and let out what looked like a sigh of relief. The quad pilot then dragged her gaze across the bay with a mirthful look on her face.

And what does she think is so funny? Thom felt his temper spike momentarily as the two of them locked gazes, then he broke gazes with Li and turned to gaze upon the rest of the Terrors milling about the gantry, wading through techs who gave the warriors a respectful berth. Suddenly a thought came to the Warlockian, something that Li had told him, and suddenly he felt his face soften a bit.

Li... She never had any academy training. Virgil had been in her family for generations, she learned how to pilot the Scorpion while being bounced on her father's knee and save the sim runs on Harlech, this very well could be one of the first times she had ever been in a pod. Perhaps that bemused look was from nervousness, T knew that sometimes he chuckled when he was in a stressful or totally funked situation, perhaps she did the same?

Thom silently fell in following after his Terrors, his children, as they headed off towards a mission debrief. Feeling once again calm and with his temper in check, the mercenary chuckling as nearby technicians gawked or gave uncomfortable glances to the Wolf Clan jumpsuit he sported at the moment. It gave him a feeling like he was a shark swimming through a school of fish, and that thought brought a roguish smile to the MechWarrior's face.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 25 January 2015 - 11:30 PM.

[RogueSpear]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard's Walk
Sigvald's Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061,13:42 Hrs

Vantas tapped a finger thoughtfully on the console. Nor Azman was just as good as the stories said, that was for certain but the rest of the Terrors...
He shook his head, frowning. Nonexistent discipline. Delfino and Taishu were the only other pilots showing any real control, even the albino automaton Cees spent the duration of the sim dangerously overextended. And Juri...He'd need to talk to Thom about that one.
He thanked the control staff and let them get back to debugging and recalibrating the sims. Stepping out the booth, he leaned over the railing and took a long pause. From above, he could almost see the sparking lines where egos and tempers ground off each other as the Terrors interacted. Thom and Cees radiated injured pride on an open channel, Wheeler was barely keeping it together, Juri had lost it and Azman was just quietly standing apart, watching the byplay. Vantas cocked his head as he saw Thom's expression soften and glance back at Taishu, the only happy pilot on the floor. Smiling slightly he tagged her, Little Mother. Thom would be their spine, but Taishu would be the heart.
The hair on his neck prickled as some sixth sense felt himself being sized up. His smile disappeared instantly and he locked gazes with Cees, staring straight up at him. That one creeps me out.
"That's enough for today Terrors." He called down. "As Lieutenant Taishu in particular found out, there's some tweaking that needs done to the sims, that'll take most of the rest of the day. Thom, if you could spare me a few moments before you debrief your troops?"

[Thom Frankfurt]

The Ballroom, RAIV Drunkard's Walk
Sigvald's Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061,13:42 Hrs

Straining his ears over the clang of magbooted soles on deck plating, Thom attempted to listen in on some joke being voiced by Wheeler to anyone bothering to listen. Dove smiled and cast a knowing look Doc's way as he stammered out the joke, most likely already knowing the punchline looming ahead. A twitch of an eye and Thom grimaced as he looked upon the sight of Azman picking at his rear through his clothing, the Warlockian quickly turned from the unsavory sight and noticed Juri trodding along, pale and seemingly lost in her thoughts, oblivious to everything going on around her. Li giggled suddenly as Doc finally got to the punchline, earning a look from the mercenary. Bright eyed and with just a slight flush to her cheeks she listened in as Adrianna retorted with her own joke with a mirthful look upon her face.

Any thoughts of inching forward to attempt to join was quickly dashed upon the rocks by one of the PA speakers cracklin to life. "That's enough for today Terrors." Vantas called down. "As Lieutenant Taishu in particular found out, there's some tweaking that needs done to the sims, that'll take most of the rest of the day. Thom, if you could spare me a few moments before you debrief your troops." Thom sighed heavily as he hooked a stray strand of mohawk behind his ear wondering if there was a clause in his contract that would limit the number of briefings a day.

That is something to work on in the future.

"Alrighties kiddos, you'sa head on over to dat briefing room we's were'a in earlier, and'a I;lls ketchup (had to) later. Someone's make coffee." Offering something of a warm smile to his little band of misfits, T turned to go to where Vantas waited. Thom wasn't sure what exactly Vantas wanted to discuss, but he was pretty sure that with how things unfolded in the sim run, it could possibly be unpleasant. Thom mentally prepared himself for any foreseeable scenarios.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 09 April 2015 - 06:21 PM.

[RogueSpear]

The Ballroom,
RAIV Drunkard's Walk
Sigvald's Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061,13:42 Hrs

"Coffee?" Vantas asked as Thom entered the control booth. A small pot brewed next to a plain plastic table bolted to the floor. A few spartan swivel chairs were arrayed around it, with Vantas sprawled across two nursing a cup of his own.
Thom winced at the mention of coffee, thinking of the ink black crud that warriors have lived off of on untold number of battlefields since some yahoo decided to guzzle the gunk. "Better than the swill we used to drink on ops, but I still don't make it very well." Vantas said, giving a small smile, pearly white teeth shining through scarcely opened lips.
"Ah, you's a'know dad I's alike me caffeine a'cold, but'a me thinks dat'a I'msa gonna have'a long night affta dat sim run." T shrugged and spread his hands in a 'what the Hell' matter. "You'sa got any's rum, or I dunno, anyting to'a make it nott'a tastes like'a rancid goatass?"
Vantas let loose a short bark of laughter. "In the control booth? Of course!" He smacked a fist against a plain plastic cabinet, which swung forward to reveal a sparce minibar.
While Thom began rummaging around in the interior, Vantas leaned thoughtfully over the backrest on his seat and frowned. "Thom...How well do you know these folk?"

Edited by RogueSpear, 24 April 2015 - 03:33 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

The Ballroom
RAIV Drunkard's Walk
Sigvald's Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061,13:42 Hours

"Thom...How well do you know these folk?" Vantas asked in a offhanded way, the tone of thoughtfulness in his voice. The Warlockian glanced over his shoulder at the Irregular lounging in his chair, a considering look upon his face. Thom absentmindedly ran a thumb over the etched glass of a bottle Mar De' Negros (Black Seas) Famous Black Spiced Rum in his hand. The tentacled image painstakingly worked into the glass, the label a woodcut like image of a 17th century ship of the line engulfed in a sprawling mass of giant squid tentacles. Thom chuckled looking over the bottle, thinking of the last time he partook of this specific inky liquid.

"You'sa know... da last time I'a drank dis s*it I was'a at'a academy?" Thom looked at the bottle longingly, then noticed the irritated look upon Vantas' face. "It'a was on'a Valentine's Day, ah, thirty-fourty's nine. Davion's Peace Park." Thom rubbed the woodcut image on the label with his thumb, noting the near indiscernible difference from the other sections of the label. "My's dorm mate hooked me'a up wit dis underclass eggheaded science major..." Smiling the Warlockian replaced the bottle in it's cradle, without even bother cracking it open. "Two day'a later I was'a expelled."

Thom turned to regard the Irregular with a cool look upon his face. "I'sa first came across Nor Azman on Vekfaren in'a '49 when dem scumabags Dalian Guard tried over throwing da government." Thom chuckled. "Met him in'a bar, trying to sell geisha dolls. Dude is'a damned lucky or'a good, I dunno, but he made it through that mess unscathed. He's good in a pinch, and'a good at'a acquiring tings, be's it'a compasitor for a particle cannon or'a some kids bike. And'a it'll be'a cold day in'a Hell before you's find a better Vulcan pilot."

"Li-Hua Taishu is'a quad pilot, you'sa know dis. What you'sa don't know is dat Virgil has'a been in her family fer generations. She'sa used to ride along wit her dad bouncing on da man's knee. She'a knows dat mech inside and'a out better dan any of dem techies you'sa can find on dis ship. She has'a fought in'a some periphery world's civil war, she later on stayed on wit da forces dat'a won in some'a administrative role, and'a only left dat rock to get her mech upgraded to modern standards. She's smart, capable, and'a not afraid to'a mix-it-up wit da bad guys."

Plus she looks good with green skin...

"Adrianna Delfino, my'a lovely Dove, is'a probably da smartest person I'sa ever met. Weapon tester and'a small time designer. She'a unwittingly a'wrote dat simulation dat I'sa gave yous, well, most of it. I'sa added my, ah... personal touches. She's fought da clans, led a resistance and'a evacuation of forces off Sevren. She's a fine mech pilot anda she brings some cutting edge tech wit her on dis op."

Thom paused taking a sip of the vile non-alcohol coffee Vantas offered.

Gods! how is it possible that this crud even taste worse than I remember?

"My's XO... Da one wit da unsettling stare is'a just'a smart as Delfino. Well as'a far as I's can tell anyways. He's a sharp and'a don't miss much wit dem beady pink eyes o' his. He's fought the clans, even had'a few minutes of fame after whipping da Falcon's on Coventry fer a bit. He hates dem just as bad as I's do. And he'sa one of da very few nobles dat I'sa met dat doesn't throw his a'name around us mere common folk. In'afact, he'a appreciates it dat I'sa don't share dat with da others, and I'sa appreciates dat. Plus he's a damned good pilot for a rich kid."

Thom returned the coffee to the table and gently scooted it a couple of inches away from himself.

"Doc Wheeler is another vet from da vat-brat invasion. He fought in'a Operation Bulldog. He downed a Mad-kitty," Thom paused looking at Vantas' confused look. "Come'on you'sa know what I's mean, a Mad'a Cat." Thom began checking off Doc's merits on his fingers as he recited them. "He'sa veteran of'a guerrilla campaign, a's certified field medic, sports probably da best mech da clans got. Sure he'sa kinda shy and'a aloof, but you git a used to it."

"Juri is ah..." troubled? Thom thought. "...Interesting person. Dat lithe woman out der in da hall is'a not da same chick when she'sa strapped into da seat of her Stalker. She's been'a making a name fer herself as'a bounty hunter an raider for da last few years. Though brutal, she's effective, as you's no doubt seen in dat sim run. Plus she a'hates da Clans, something about dem being a cancer on all humanity or some such."

"And'a I'm well you know, a's slacker wit a speech impediment."

Thom paused and sighing took up the coffee again, taking another sip. Well, at least it's not quite as vile the second time... The Warlockian sat the mug down and fixed his long time friend and now commander a steely stare.

"A'look. Dese are my'a boys an girls. Sure we's may be a bit... ah, rough around da edges. But we'll get da job done. So don't a'worry about what you'sa seen in dat sim run, these are my terror's and we will fill da hearts of da Falcons with Terror."

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 26 April 2015 - 03:43 AM.

[RogueSpear]

The Ballroom
RAIV Drunkard's Walk
Sigvald's Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061,13:47 Hours

"That's...not quite my concern, old friend." Vantas spun his free hand, as if to grasp the words he was looking for from the air. "Don't mistake me, I'm very worried about some of your warriors - bear with me!" He held palms up around his coffee in a placating motion, "But I'll get to that later. Thom, how long has your band been together? Your fighters there looked like they'd never seen each other pilot a mech before. It's..." He sighed. "It's worrying to see when we're about to go on an op of this magnitude. As for your pilots themselves..."
He sighed and gestured at the banks of monitors surrounding them. "Juri set off so many alarms the techs think the pods are broken. That and Li's little mishap are why we've stalled the teamfights for now, but I don't think either of us think the problem is with the tech in Juri's case. The woman is unwell and we've both seen enough warriors with the shakes to know Wheeler is suffering from PTSD. Are we going to be able to salvage them or are they beyond saving? Are we better confining them to the Drift and running the op without them? I can't bring unstable mechwarriors to an infantry war. I just can't. Not after Brocchi's Cluster."

Edited by RogueSpear, 02 May 2015 - 09:22 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

The Ballroom
RAIV Drunkard's Walk
Sigvald's Light
Lyran Space
7 April, 3061,13:47 Hours

Brocchi's Cluster... Just thinking of the cluster brought a bitter taste to Thom's mouth. It was the scene of an atrocity and coincidentally the actions that earned a much younger and inexperienced Thom a spot on the short list for Vantas' Angelus Company. Attempting to buy time the mercenary strolled over to the railing to overlook his troopers, the clacking of the steel soles of his grav-boots causing some of his warriors to look up at the Warlockian. Thoughts raced, memories bubbled to the surface.

[Que Flashback!]
"...Ah, new's be tree ere, inns position." Thom spoke into the mic as clearly as he could, trying to reign in his frustration of being designated as 'Newbie #3' He was by nobody's accounting new, (Well to him anyways.) he had already taken on the Snakes, crushed the Dalian Guard's uprising, and locked horns with these so called Children of Kerensky. The thought of his most recent enemy brought a wince and made the mercenary rub his left shoulder and collarbone area. The spot where he clipped the canopy while ejecting out of his dying Blackjack, Swampthing. The crinkling of his Griffin's Neil-6000 communication system snapping him out of his reflections.

"Roger that, number three. Enemy patrol is Oscar Mike, ETA three minutes." Droned on his lance leader in his detached monotone voice. "Sit tight, three." With a crinkly pop the line died, leaving Thom alone to his thoughts. Three minutes could be a lifetime on the battlefield, or a prison sentence for those waiting with anticipation to spring upon their enemies.. Thom busied himself stabbing away at buttons on his console with a bony finger. A timer sprung into existence upon his HUD in neon green lights while on a secondary display status boards lit up showing green, showing all systems go. Smiling wickedly Thom caressed the armrest of his command couch affectionately.

Equipped with an extended ranged particle cannon, an advanced countermeasure suite, advanced 'freezer' heat sinks not the corrosive liquid ones that his BJ-3 had and all kinds of nifty armor and skeletal structure, a whole smorgasbord of advanced tech the GRF-2N was a marvel to young Thom.

As much as I hate to admit it, this thing is a lot nicer than the 'Thing ever was...

Two minutes. Thom settled in, going hull down behind a large boulder that overlook the mountain pass, a twitch of a grey eye showed that his lance mates were also in position, Newbie 1's Crusader hunkering down behind a lichen covered crag of limestone, number two and four laid low further down the pass, their Shadow Hawk and Wolverine pressed into recesses carved into the passes walls waiting to spring upon their 'enemies.'

Thom wiped his clammy hand off on his coolant vest and not for the first time, wished this wasn't just a war game. He thirsted for real action, though he understood the Irregular's thinking, with a sudden influx of new recruits from several different units, all survivors/refugees from the Falcon onslaught on Barcelona. They needed to form some sort of unit cohesion and to gauge their recruits prowess, this led to an extended series of war games, Thom just hoped he would impress the Irregular brass enough to look pass his dispossession and take him on...

A sudden burst of garbled communiques wrenched T's attention from the narrowest point of the pass to listen intently. "...Pft. Repe.... Drag.. fssst -ammer... pft! went ape sh...pft!... non-comb.. dead... pft all train..pft! stagin....area." Trying to decipher the broken message, Thom turned his mech in the direction of staging area, the location that all the war game simulations were being orchestrated from, and took in the sight of a large column of black smoke billowing upward and red-orange flames licking the sky visible from over 5 miles out. Suddenly an angry orange burst of flame sprang into being in the distance. Thom twisted his mech's torso in the direction of his lance leader expecting orders, yet none came.

"Orders. boss? I'sa can see da flames from'a here. I'sa tink dat dis is'a da real ting..." Thom offered over the lance channel. Sputtered sounds of indecision returned from his leader answered him. "I... uh, three... base?"

Funk this guy. Continuing to address the lance Thom took charge, "Hey's I'msa gonna go see's wat I'sa can do, you puss*es try and'a keep up." And with that the Warlockian rose his Griffin from it's hide among the boulders and turned it to face the blazes in the distance, slamming the throttle full forward.

As he made his way back to base Thom took the lack of distress calls as a bad sign.
*************************************************************************************
[A bit later.]

A grizzly scene greeted Thom when he guided his Griffin into the smoldering ruins of what was the staging area. A lifeless Rommel MBT lay on it's side, oily black smoke gushing from it's rented armor. Cautiously Thom guided his mech by the tank, and gasped seeing what was once the aid station, collapsed and looking like a mech trampled through the place. Twisting his mech's torso to the side, he noticed a large section of scorched earth surrounding a crater a good thirty meters across. Inching by the crater, he noted the skeletal remains of another two tanks, their broken frames twisted beyond recognition.

Backtracking the way he came, Thom stumbled across the remains of a battered Trebuchet, it's head crushed into the earth. And everywhere broken bodies lay scattered haphazardly about like leaves blown by the wind, their blood soaking into the earth. Thom shook his head sadly and remembered to dial up the power on his Griffin's particle cannon.

"Any's survivors?" Thom asked doubtfully over an uncrypted channel, as an answer his external mics picked up the distant booming sound of an autocannon.

"Yes!" Boomed out a voice over the line, shouting over the roar of an autocannon. "One of the Dragoons snapped and started killing everybody! I'm at grid Oh sixty one by Delta three... I don't mean to sound like a d*ck, but a little help would sure be appreciated!" Turning about on the heading that would lead to the indicated grid, Thom threw the throttle full forward, quickly bringing the Griffin up to speed. "You's guys a'hear dat?!" Thom shouted over the open channel, and was rewarded by affirmative reply from his lance mates who's less mobile mechs were slowly falling behind.

Rounding a smoldering ruin, the wreckage of what appeared to be another Rommel, Thom caught glimpse of a bright crackling beam of man made lightning crash into the hulking form of a Hunchback. Thom backtracked the after image of the particle cannon blast to see the imposing figure of a seventy ton Warhammer. Though shot up the heavy mech appeared to be fully functional as it cut into the smaller h-back with gem colored laser fire, in retaliation the H-Back shot out with it's own lasers and booming monster cannon, who's shells slammed into the 'Hammer in poofs of white clouds.

Stupid war games and dummy rounds... Thom thought while the lighter mech stepped forward to lash out a savage kick, armored plating buckled under the fifty tonner's crumpled foot. The Whammy stepped back with an impressive grace unnatural for something so big and heavy and swung out with it's barreled club-like arms. Driven to it's knees by the savage blows, the Hunchback appeared finished as the heavy mech moved in for the coup de grâce.

"NO!" Thom sprung into action, snapping off a hastily aimed shot which sailed low, slamming into the side of the Warhammer's already damaged leg, the mech stumbled and whirled turning it's attention to the mercenary and blasted off two quickly aimed shots that struck the Griffin square in the chest.

Ah sh*t, he's good. Nobody should land shots like that without aiming...

Twisting to the side Thom tried to maneuver around a miraculously still standing structure, a loud bang suddenly sounded with a momentary obscurement of white smoke. "Hah! Stoopid's war games!" Timing it he turned just in time to hear his targeting computer ping notifying him that his particle cannon was ready, the Warlockain dragged his targeting reticule over the snarling wolf's head on the Hammer's chest. Flaring gold, Thom depressed his trigger sending out a blast of particle fire which crashed into the heavy mech's chest, the mech staggered back, arching sparks flying from it's mangled leg.

His leg is f*cked. I got this guy!Keeping his throttle full forward T darted out into the open twin blast of lightning slamming into his mech's flank. Struggling to drag his own cross hairs over the Hammer, as well as his mech's footing, Thom suddenly cut to the right trying to flank around the near crippled mech as he did so he saw a momentary glimpse of gold and mashed down on his firing stud. With a crash the particle cannon slammed into the rent in the torso where Thom's previous shot hit. Thick globs of molten metal spewed from the blast and one of the mech's lasers caught fire, belching greenish flames. Seconds later a drumming of dummy missiles banged into the mech obscuring the pilot's vision.

Taking advantage of the situation, Thom planted his mech's foot and using his Griffin's superior mobility angled in for attacks upon the Warhammer's back, too slow the bigger mech responded, turning to bring it's stronger armor to bear. With a sickening crunch the two mechs slammed into one another, the larger mech momentarily holding it's own with it's larger size, but a sudden stomp on the Warhammer's already abused leg caused it to buckle. With a shove the heavy slammed flat upon it's back before Thom.

Lying upon it's back, crippled, mangled, the Warhammer still lashed out in rage, small caliber lasers zapping the Griffin's armor, cutting furrows, particle cannon blasting out huge chunks, short ranged missiles 'poofing' and rubber bullets pinging against the Griffin's cockpit as it stepped forward to drive a foot through the Dragoon's ferroglass cockpit.

[End Flashback]

Thom continued to look out at his Terrors, sizing them up, reevaluating them in a new light. It had been many years since that fateful day on Brocchi's Cluster, and Thom had done his best to bury those memories...

"You know's," the mercenary broke his silence, turning to face Vantas. "My's dad had it. Err, has it. My's uh, step-mom," Thom made an odd face at that statement. "...She a'told me about dat. To dis day he'a still has'a nightmares about da Crusis lancers sacking Tikonov. She a says he mutters out in gibberish in his sleep. Still, da guy went on to win two Grand Championships." The merc flashed a shrimpeating grin at Vantas when saying that.

"I'sa guess what I'ms a'trying to say is dat, we's all seen some nasty things on da battlefield. Some things stick with us, haunt us, and we's all a'deal wit it differently. But'a trust me, Man," Thom hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction that the Terror's were lounging about talking among themselves. "If one of dem snap, I'lls put dem down like'a mad dog without'a second thought. I's guarantee dat."

The Warlockian suddenly cracked his knuckles and wiggled them oddly. "As for yer other question, uh, no not too long. Me knowing dem or us a'working together, well save Azman. But I'msa guessing dat some good ole' fashioned sim time will ah fix dat dough. Dey will work, having a bunch of a**holes shooting at you's kinds of urges you to'a work wit one another... Barcelona taught me dat."

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 18 May 2015 - 12:30 PM.