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[Bill Bullet]

[After the single greatest PUG fight of my MWO career I was hit by a flash of inspiration]

January 1st, 3032

Newscaster: Several hours ago, General Charles Becker announced that he would quote: "No longer stand for the injustices being heaped upon the people of this planet.” before launching a full scale coup with the intent of overthrowing the Baron and the Council of Nobles. Recent reports from the capital state that the capital and royal palace have already fallen to rebel forces…

March 13^th, 3032

Newscaster: In a press release from the Office of National Pride and Security, the Governor-General for life, Charles Becker has announced the execution of the former Baron’s 13-year-old son. Stating that: “The continued terrorist attacks by criminal forces still loyal to the tyrant have pushed beyond the point of human decency and as punishment for these crimes the State see no other option but to end the line of succession in hopes it will show the terrorists the error of their ways.” The execution by firing squad was carried out in the newly christened Becker’s Square just moments ago…

May 23^rd, 3032

Underground Radio Broadcast: Rise up, my downtrodden brothers and sisters! The day of reckoning is at hand! For too long, Becker the Butcher and his thugs have ruled our home with a blood-stained iron fist! The loyalist forces have won several victories against the Butcher and his men, but now it is OUR time to aid our rightful ruler! Take to the streets! Overwhelm the hated Grey Jackets in their guardhouses and checkpoints! Throw open the city gates so our Baron can march his forces inside and kill the child murdering monster who defiles our planet!

June 5^th, 3032

Talk show host: After fleeing the capital with his closest lieutenants, Charles Becker has holed up his remaining forces inside the Viridian Wetlands and refused to surrender. Our “Question of the Evening” is this: Why is the Baron giving responsibility for apprehending the rebels to an off-world mercenary unit? My guests tonight have several theories…

August 7^th, 3032

Personal log entry: For two months we’d been slogging through this miserable bog and had seen neither hide nor hair of the rebel forces. We’d been tasked with apprehending them and bring the ring leaders to face justice back at the capital. The rebel forces here were too small to ever retake their lost territory but too large to be left alone. The Baron had told us that his own loyalist troops were too bloodied by the civil war and at the same time too blood thirsty. He wanted a fair trial for the former general to help rebuild his nation and figured (probably correctly) that if his own boys went in after the general there wouldn’t be much left of him to try and convict.

So far however our greatest enemy had been the swamp itself. Our infantry had been forced to pull back after one too many squads had been ravaged by either the infectious parasites in the water or straight up eaten by the insectoid predators that lurked under the surface. The tank commander had taken one look at the terrain and announced that he wouldn’t lead his men into the swamp for triple his fee and I frankly don’t blame him. Finally, the dense tree-cover made air and artillery support almost useless, forcing us to rely on smoke grenades to indicate the general position of targets. All in all, I decided I hated this bog with every fiber of my being. But a job is a job and you don’t call in Frank’s Furies for the easy ones, so here we were.

Orders came down that our company would expand its patrol pattern to a new area. Satellite readings had seen some large movement in the sector and even though the last ten times it had always been another one of those blasted bugs, orders where orders. We marched into the sector, a particularly nasty stretch of terrain broken up by plateaus and trees so big they dwarfed even our Mechs and the recon lance reported signs of Mech activity; broken tree branches, torn up earth, and most telling of all the giant corpse of a bug covered in laser burns.

We reported our findings and moved deeper into the sector, my lancemate and I linked up with recon lance and began a sweep of the area. Suddenly, our long-range comms went dead and our sensors fogged up. I had just ordered our Raven to start counter ECM measures when a Locust pilot shouted over the short-range comms “I found him! He’s in an Atlas!” Two months we’d been in this sodden hell-hole and not only had we found the enemy, but we had found the enemy leader himself! Despite our heaviest Mech being my lancemate’s Grasshopper the six of us had the obvious numerical advantage as well as the advantage of our light Mech’s mobility. We charged the General’s position, the lights running circles around him to throw off his fire. With the Atlas suitably distracted, I moved my Centurion CN9-AH into position.

Leveling my right arm into position, I fired the massive AC/20 before I even got a lock, the close range and sheer size of the enemy too easy a target to worry about missing. At the same time my lancemate fired the Large Lasers of his Mech, sending globules of molten armor hissing into the water’s of the bog. Panicked at the sudden armor loss and surrounded by enemies, the Atlas backed off in a desperate attempt to escape. I began blasting him with my two torso-mounted SRM-6s and was once again justified in purchasing the Artemis guidance system as all twelve missiles impacted their target, blowing off the Atlas’ right arm in a shower of smoke and sparks. Despite the punishment I was handing out, the General deemed the Grasshopper the more dangerous target and focused his fire there. Taking the extra time to for all my weapons to reload I carefully sighted my crosshairs on the rapidly disappearing central torso armor. The moment my weapons screen flashed green, I fired all my weapons in a heat spiking Alpha strike.

The combined fire hit the massive Assault Mech like a wrecking ball and with a victorious holler I watched the General’s Atlas crash to the ground. The rush of victory was snatched away however when the Atlas’ ECM failed and our long range scanners and comms returned. I saw in horror that 3 of our company were already dead or disabled and the comms were full of pleas for help and worst of all, the question “Where are the other half of our guys?!” Without a word, our group turned towards the battle raging behind us. Those few desperate minutes were the worst of my entire mercenary career. As we ran back to our comrades, I realized that the General had been leading from the rear and our recon unit had simply bypassed his entire force to stumble upon him.

Our good luck was the doom of our unit, deprived of half the Mechs our comrades were overwhelmed by the rebels and though they fought hard, by the time we reached the battlefield, we six were all that remained and scans showed that we shared the field with 11 of the enemy Mechs. “Damn you stupid morons for running ahead and splitting our force.” Came a last transmission from the disable Mechs, “You screwed us all over!”. The accusations of the dying will haunt me forever.

Seeing the enemy begin to turn in our direction, I pushed aside the thought of my companion’s demise and quickly formed a plan. “Get up onto the plateau; we can hold them off up there!” We moved our Mechs up the natural stairs and had only just secured the hill when the first enemy Mech came charging around the side. I don’t know how long we fought or how many I killed that day, but I will always judge the viciousness of all future combat against the fury of that day. Whether it was the loss of their leader or the arrogance of their numbers they did not mass for a single charge to overwhelm us. They came in waves, alone or in pairs but our combined fire drove them back time and time again. The relative freshness of our armor compensated for our small numbers and smaller Mechs. Our dead companions had sold their lives dearly, stripping the enemy Mechs of armor and ammo so that when they charged our position, our massed fire toppled Mechs twice our size.

But as the battle wore on, the weight of their numbers began to tell. First my lancemate went down. His Grasshopper blasted to scrap as he gave us covering fire to fall back and regroup. The armor of the Jenner pilot’s Mech finally failed him and he died screaming. My ammo stores ran dry as I fired again and again, desperate to hold back the tide of Mechs. My SRMs ran out first as they toppled a ShadowHawk into the dark waters of the bog. “I only have six rounds left!” I shouted over the comm. There was no time for orders, only the short, clipped status updates between men who were ready for death but also ready to kill as many of the enemy as they could to save the lives of their companions. “I need to cool off I’m gonna overheat!” “I’ll drop down, and get behind them!” “Look out, enemy Victor incoming!”

This last warning caught my attention and I saw the enemy approach. Looking back now, I can see that moment so clearly as if it happened in slow motion. I remember thinking, “This is it, this is how I’m going to die…after I fire these 6 shots.” I fired my AC/20 at the broad chest of the Victor, no time for finesse, no time to find weak points. I twisted right and caught his initial barrage on my Centurion’s shield arm and felt it fall away as the last bits of armor and internal structure were melted away. The armor on my right side was gone as well, the mighty AC/20 exposed, I could not risk losing the weapon, not when I still had some shots left. However the analytical part of my mind reminded me that my Mech’s speed and power came from the XL 200 engine at its heart and that my exposed left torso presented an equally fatal risk.

But in those last milliseconds I knew what I had to do. I fired my AC/20 and with a cheer, realized I had badly damaged my opponent. My scanners showed his central torso to be glowing red, the armor gone and the inner workings of his engine badly damaged. The heat inside the Victor’s cockpit had to be astronomical. To this day I still wonder what went through the Victor pilot’s head. He could have retreated or he could have punched out, instead he lined up his weapons and fired one last shot and I twisted right.

I awake several hours later in a field hospital outside the bog. I was informed that the Victor had overheated and exploded, killing the pilot instantly. The last three light Mechs of my unit had fought and killed the remaining 2 rebels. My own survival was attributed to the lack of ammunition in my Mech, though the engine had been destroyed, the lack of missiles and autocannon rounds had kept the damage to a minimum and the auto ejection system had gotten me to safety. So here I sit, wrapped in bandages, calculating my bonus check and subtracting the cost of repairs to my Mech. I found out later that the General had been found guilty of a myriad of crimes and was set to be executed the same day we lifted off from this planet in pursuit of our next contract. I for one hope it is nowhere near any swamp lands!

[Bill Bullet]

I'm half tempted to quit MWO, I will NEVER EVER have a match this good again lol 5 kills, 870 damage 108 points and the greatest and only 6v11 comeback I'll probably ever be a part of. Shout out to the Light Mech jocks who finished it off and major kudos to the Grasshopper pilot who sent the enemy scurrying at least twice

Edited by Bill Bullet, 15 April 2015 - 10:11 AM.

[Faith McCarron]

Awesome. I love this sort of inspired story.