128 replies to this topic

[guardian wolf]

Chris was just looking over a ridge, scouting ahead in his magnetic view. He noted the concentrations of metal, some, probably buildings, others, he guessed where battlemechs. Thermals checked back to confirm his assumptions. He switched out of these views so that he could see normally, and so the thermal did not give him a headache. He was about to report his findings when he heard the call come out from Alpha team, Jean. Chris cursed, and then set his throttle to full, sighting in what appeared to be a barracks, selecting his PPC. He fired and watched the explosion from the building and then called out to his lancemates over the comms.

"Bravo, FIRE FIRE FIRE NOW!! This is Ace of Spades engaging,"

Chris ran his Shadow Hawk through the camp, firing his medium lasers this way and that. He figured he would spread confusion amongst the enemy's ranks, slowing their response time. He turned a corner when he spotted a Jenner. He heard the speaker, and switched his on.

"SURPRISE!!!"


"Surprise is RIGHT ************!!"

Chris took his left hand, the unarmed one, and balled into a fist while smashing it down onto the poor Jenner. The Jenner fired two of its four medium lasers, one went wide, the other splashing across the Shadow Hawks left arm. The fist, connected into the ‘head’ of the Jenner, and it lost its balance. Chris then ripped the leg off of the Jenner, and plunged it through the cockpit like a sword. He did not even bother to retrieve his makeshift weapon. He turned and saw a tank lined up with him, its AC 5 taking aim. Chris sidestepped, and gave the tank the old Terra gesture of ‘******** *** ****’. The tank fired its AC 5, smacking against the building that Chris was next to. Chris backed around behind it, and jumped using his jets to get to the top. Once there he looked around, and spotted what seemed to be a vehicle hangar. He took a step when the ceiling of the building caved in on him. Cursing he brought his mech around to see where he was at. It was a poorly built mech hangar, and all of them were in powered down state. Then Chris watched in anticipation, as one of them began to power on, it was an Archer. He immediately realized he was outgunned in this one, and slammed his comms button.

“OH ****, THIS IS ACE OF SPADES, NEED ASSISTANCE NOW!!! HAVE LOCATED MECH HANGAR!!!”

He backpedalled quickly out of the hangar, and then cut the corner around the building. He took stock of his situation, and found, that he had forgotten to turn on his radar.

“That explains the Jenner,” he mumbled

He heard the footsteps of the Archer, and then remembered his TAG laser. It was mounted next to his head, so he pointed and let the computer lock on to the false target the laser was creating. He just got the lock when he heard the arty was down, and he cursed the bad luck he was having. He was about to leave when he felt an AC 5 smack into his right arm. He wheeled around, and saw the tank. Chris ran his Shadow Hawk forward, fired both of his medium lasers to throw off the tanks aim, and then slowed to a stop next to it. The tank tried to maneuver, but Chris had him right where he wanted him. Chris reached his left hand down, grabbed the barrel of the AC 5, and then, ripped it off. Tossing the piece of scrap to the side, he then planted his foot down on the tank, crushing it, and all inside. The Raiders had taught him one thing well, to kill or be killed, and always be brutally efficient. A fearful enemy was always easier to defeat than a strong, or courageous one. Chris continued to maneuver throughout the base, hoping he didn’t come face to face with that Archer again.

EDIT: I didn't know that flipping/the/bird was censored.

Edited by guardian wolf, 21 August 2012 - 06:01 PM.

[RogueSpear]

Dirk grunted as he dug in the Messer's hand actuator into the cliff, driving it nearly a foot and a half into the rock, sliding the mech's knees sideways to create more friction. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the mech slow to a stop amidst a cloud of dust.
He pointed the mech's head down, seeing Spitfire moving her Atlas in underneath him 30m below, ready to attempt a catch. He was partly over the edge. "Please watch out for debris Spitfire."
With a quick jerk, he forced the mech into a half kneeling position on the cliff face, triggering his centre jet and pulling the mech with the left arm. Slamming a prebent leg down on the ground above the instant he crested it, he wrenched the left arm free of the dirt, spinning with the motion and falling sideways and rolling onto his front, safe.
"Thanks for the assist Spitfire." Wouldn't have been necessary if you weren't such a child, he bitched petulantly. He lowered the sniper arm where he could see it. Dust drifted from the muzzle brake.
F*ck.
"Icepick, Exile, support team unavailable due to..." Dirk thought for phrasing, "...an arbitrary weapons fire miscommunication. Messer now fouled, repeat, Messer now fouled. If a rock's gotten in here, next shell will be my last. Going EV to attempt clean up. Estimate 3-20 minutes. Spitfire, get up here ASAP. If something comes out for us...well I won't exactly last long hanging out the end of an artillery piece."
Dirk winced at Nik's pointed reply as he shook the sniper up and down to pour out the worst of the debris, pointed the Sniper at a -10 degree vertical angle, unhooked his neurohelmet and cracked open his cockpit. He scrabbled across the steel rungs dotting Messer's carapace, a small toolkit dangling from his spare hand. Shimmying along the barrel of the sniper, he hugged it tight, feeling for dents. Sighing in relief as he reached the muzzle brake, glad that his mech's double heat sinks and low heat cost allowed him to wear more clothes than the average mechwarrior. Carefully balancing the toolkit across the top of the brake, he hung backwards into space and stripped off his t-shirt. Jamming it into the side of the break, he shifted himself round on the gun barrel, finally sitting up to open the tool kit. Extracting a wrench and a bottle of coolant, he soaked the shirt in the coolant, stuck the wrench through it and began to swab around to wipe out what he could from the muzzle.
After that, he'd just need to try his luck.

EDIT: Line skip. Again.

Edited by RogueSpear, 21 August 2012 - 06:37 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

There was no denying it, Nik was rattled. The sudden reappearance of Barret had brought a flood of memories, and none of them were good. As the small group lead off towards their objective of knocking out the relaystation his mind wandered, and suddenly he was in a gloomy Galeta motel room, with Barret slowly flaying the flesh off a middle aged man from the Fed Suns. Though trained in the use of torture and interagation himself, Nikoli had to admit that the MASK's torture specialist could learn a couple of things from the psyhopath.

As Nik relived the dying mans screams in his head he was grateful that Sierra was able to pick up on his unease and stepped up to the plate as leader, which he was perfectly comfortable with. She was intelligent and able, with a good grasp on tactics everything that a commander would want in a XO. Unexpectantly Jean's voice broke the silence, snapping him out of the dark thoughts. Contact, and orders for Scatterbrained Dirk to shell the relay station. Silently he slammed the Chameleon's throttle all the way forward, bringing it up to 90KPH as it thunderd off through the sheets of rust colored dust. A bright orange fireball erupted shiloutting a large building with the unmistakeable form of a dish upon it's roof.

Absentmindedly Nik nodded approvingly as she suggested corrections to Hammer's aim.

"CONTACT!" Sierra shouted over the comm, Nik planted his mechs foot and changed direction, heading towards Sierra's position as a sniper shell crashed into the relaystation proper, which sprouted in a firey red blossom of destruction and death. Severly savaged by the explosion and with it's support weakened, the massive, multi-ton array teetered then toppled over crumpling under it's own weight as it connected with the earth.

"On my way Little Sister!! Keep your panties on!!" Nik growled into the mic as he rushed to help out his comrade.

[Sparks Murphey]

A hundred kilo shell slammed into the shoulder mounted LRM launcher of Sierra’s Trebuchet, shattering armour plates and filling the air with flying shrapnel.

“I don’t think it’s my panties this guy wants, Nik,” she called back, barely deflecting the three-ton blade from impacting with her head. Alarms shrilled and she glanced across the displays; one of the medium lasers in the ‘Bucket’s right arm had just died protecting her.

Normally, she liked being up close in a fight. This was too close, though. The Hatchetman wasn’t much slower than her Trebuchet, and in order to use her better speed she’d have to show her back to that hatchet. Not that her front had better armour than her back any more. She wished she’d taken Dirk’s advice and found a way to strap jump jets to this thing. Some extra manoeuvrability would be nice right about now.

Well, if Sierra couldn’t be nimbler, she could at least make her opponent clumsier. She gave her ‘Mech a slight fake stagger, as if the last blow had shaken her, and watched as the Hatchetman drew back for another swing. Just as it shifted its weight into the blow, she unloaded her SRMs into its forward leg.

The Hatchetman slammed face-first into the ground, the weight of its swing working against it as its balance disappeared. A grinding shriek cut the air as the tip of the hatchet skidded down the front of the Trebuchet’s armour. She danced the machine backwards and unleashed another barrage of SRMs into the Hatchetman’s back, ravaging its armour and causing something to die in a shower of sparks. It climbed groggily to its feet.

“A-for-Alexander went down, but got back up. His back is weak, though, Nik, flank him for me, would ya?”

[Thom Frankfurt]

“A-for-Alexander went down, but got back up. His back is weak, though, Nik, flank him for me, would ya?”

She didn't have to ask twice, as Nik veered his Chameleon onward towards Sierra's position he nearly blundered right into the mangled back of the Hatchetman.

"HA!" Nik was by no means an expert marksman with the weapon systems of any battlemech, in fact he was a poor gunner. But even he couldn't miss from this close, a scant fifty meters from the Hatcheman. With an evil grin, Nikoli setteled his crosshairs over the much abused back armor of the 45 ton mech. The cross hairs pulsed the gold of a solid target lock and Nikoli mashed down on the triggers. Bright gem colored light lit up the immediate area, cutting through the tortured ferro-fiberous armor of the Hatchetman which cascaded off the back of the medium mech in globs of slag. Into the molten streams of armor short ranged missiles plowed, detonating deep in the innards of the mech, destroying critical components. Like a drunkard the Hatcheman teetered and dropped, with half molten globs of high speed metal launching out of the rent in its armor in crazy patterns.

Gyro hit, he's not going anywhere...

Striding forward, Nikoli stomped down upon the sprawled out Hatchetman crushing armored plate and snapping structrial supports.

"We need to hurry, that generator is still up." With a screech of tortured metal Nikoli turned the Chameleon in the direction of the relay station and began lumbering off that way.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 25 August 2012 - 08:09 PM.

[ChaosGrinder]

" You ok Brain ?! Damnit, we need to watch our a**es out here ! " she yelled and turned around.

Activating another console and a blue glowing screen flickered to life.

" I´ll try to gather some data. We´re technically blind. Stand by, launching drone in 3 ... 2... 1 ... " And with a "Thump" a rocket-like thing darted out of a hatch in her right shoulder straight up in the air. It was a small camera drone , but it was enough to get them a better view of what was around them.

" F*ckit ! Sand is basically blocking the view. Scan returned nothing ! Brain, move your a** we need to relocate ! "

Suddently the screen of the Drone turned black. Signal lost. " I have lost the connection to the drone. It´s still up, but not sending ! What the F is wrong ?! " She said, as she came up to the ridge to Dirk.

" Hurry up, i have no F*ckin clue what will happen here next. Better be runnin."

Edited by ChaosGrinder, 30 August 2012 - 11:29 AM.

[Sparks Murphey]

"We need to hurry, that generator is still up," Nikoli said, grinding the heel of his ‘Mech against the dying Hatchetman.

“Roger that, chief,” Sierra called back, “Cutlass, Reckless, keep an eye out. That Hatchetman probably had friends.”

She turned to follow Nikoli, hanging back a little to allow him to spot for her LRM rack. This dust was the perfect environment for LRM sniping: you could send one unit forward to spot, and then pummel their target at range with missiles.

Unfortunately, the enemy seemed to have the same idea. Light flared faintly in the distance, growing in intensity before finally resolving itself as a flight of LRMs, smashing into her Trebuchet.

“I’m being spotted,” Sierra shouted over the mic, “Distant LRM boat, 11 o’clock.”

Another flight of missiles rained down on her as she twisted, trying to find the unit calling down the missiles on her position. She caught a glimpse of something, but it vanished into the dust again before she could target it. Lucky, it must have lost its lock on her, because the next round of LRMs smashed into the ground where she had been standing, rather than guiding in on her. She turned to chase after it, hoping to catch it unaware, only to collide with it as it emerged suddenly out of the swirling dust.

“B-for-Bartholomew is a Commando,” Sierra said, as the two machines sprawled on the ground and another burst of missiles took flight, “And would someone shut that bloody LRM boat up?”

[Vodkavaiator]

“And would someone shut that bloody LRM boat up?”

"Certainly, my dear. I shall go tell this Charlie what I think of his rather tactless work. Let him come to rue the day he crossed the Tombstone Barbershop Quartet!" Rudbeck shouted over the communications network, before bursting into a mad fit of laughter without noticing that the he was still broadcasting over the channel.

The small Griffin mech burst forward in a sudden jolt of speed as Rudbeck slammed the throttle as forward and simultaneously triggered the jump jets of his mech sending it into the sky in the direction of the new foe. "Faster, faster, faster!" He whispered with a hint of madness to his machine, as if he could will it to go even faster towards the enemy mech merely through words.

"Hey Brains! I don't hear you shooting! Wake up from your dreaming, flirting or whatever it is you are doing with the floozy in the Atlas, we have work to do!" The mercenary added as he watched the distance to the last radar contact closing. 700m. 650m. 600m. "Enemy contact identified as Archer variant 2R" the voice of the computer suddenly exclaimed.

"Cutlass here, C-for-Charlie is an Archer! Engaging!" Rudbeck howled over the radio to the others as he heard the blaring warning sounds of an immanent missile launch. With moderate annoyance, he slammed the master warning switch, silencing the cautioning voice of the Griffins battle computer. "Not now my love, not now, how am I to concentrate if you create such an unearthly racket?"

He threw a quick glance at his radar indicator and swore silently to himself as he noticed he was still 300 meters away from the missile boat. It was time for some piloting **** as his instructor has once called it.

"You forget yourself, my friend!" Rudbeck quipped at the enemy pilot as he once more engaged his jump jets launching the Griffin into the air but this time adding a touch of horizontal thrust sending far enough to the side of the enemy archer that the pilot was forced to correct his aim. Too slow, he was far too slow Rudbeck realized smiling a shark's grin as the enemy lost his lock.

"Let no one say that Rudbeck does not repay his enemies in kind!" Rudbeck then muttered as he placed his cross-hairs over the distant enemy Archer. It was hardly an ideal shot he reflected as the targeting reticule remained a droll yellow, but all the same he did not relish the thought of waiting for a better lock and with a light and controlled squeeze of his fingers he pulled the trigger watching with grim anticipation as the brilliant blue beam of his Griffin's PPC burned through the air towards the other mech.

The crackling ions exploded in a burst of electricity near the left shoulder of the Archer causing the mech to shudder to the left as the pilot struggled to correct for the impact. Rudbeck however had precious little time to celebrate as the four medium lasers of the Archer cut towards him and he cursed angrily as he saw the damage indicators lighting up near his right arm.

200m.

Edited by Vodkavaiator, 16 September 2012 - 01:08 PM.

[Sparks Murphey]

The swirling storm was making hard for Sierra to right her ‘Mech. The dust made it hard to see a horizon (or any reference point, for that matter) and the winds kept buffeting her machine in unpredictable ways. The Commando, on the other hand, seemed to have no such trouble, presumably because the pilot was used to it. As Sierra’s Trebuchet flopped onto it’s back, she saw the Commando standing above her, it’s SRM ports yawning open.

Clang.

Keed’s BattleMaster tackled the tiny ‘Mech just as it fired, a long, powerful charge to the waist that carried both ‘Mechs a good twenty metres to the side. Most of the SRMs exploded directly against the BattleMaster’s left arm, though the assault ‘Mech barely seemed to care. The Commando was hit harder, the close explosions opening rents in its torso armour around the launcher mounted there.

Keed didn’t let up, either. Without bothering to stand his ‘Mech back up, he punched in with the right arm, the retractable blade there scything viciously through the smaller machine’s torso. The Commando tried to fight back, throwing a few clumsy kicks at the BattleMaster, before Keed knelt on it’s legs, driving the thick spikes on his knees through it’s upper actuators. Punch. Punch. P-BAM! That blow must have driven through one of the ammo bins. The upper section of the Commando vanished in a fireball that engulfed the BattleMaster as well, the pilot of the Commando being automatically ejected out of his cockpit at 7G across the rocks and sand.

Dammit, Sierra swore as she got her Trebuchet back to its feet. She’d always wanted to try a Commando out, but it looked like that one got away.

“Revin, you okay in there?” she called over the comm.

“Don’t worry your pretty self, I’m fine,” Keed called back. The BattleMaster swayed as he stood, plates of armour folding and falling from the front, the Commando’s legs still impaled on it’s knees like macabre trophies. The BattleMaster staggered a little; Sierra wasn’t sure if it had taken gyro damage, or if Keed was more hurt than he was making out.

“Roger. B-for-Bartholomew is done for. Reckless took...”

Sierra was cut-off as a pair of emerald lasers stabbed out of the storm and into the BattleMaster’s back, closely followed by an AC round. All three were remarkably tightly fired, landing spot on in the rear left torso of the ‘Mech. Something erupted in a burst of sparks and smoke began pouring from the BattleMaster.

“Fourth contact,” Sierra called, as Keed lumbered his machine around to face the fire, “D-for-Donald is pegging us from the storm. Can’t see him yet.”

The HUD flashed through different colours as Sierra cycled the various imaging modes the Trebuchet was capable of, hoping to find one that showed where their aggressor was hiding. There must have been a lot of iron oxide in the swirling dust, though, and it was playing havoc with the radar and mag-anomaly...wait, there!

The emerald beams shot out again into the back of Revin’s BattleMaster, tearing through the structural supports of the left torso and dropping the whole assembly to the ground. Sierra unleashed her SRMs at the blurry magnetic reading just in time to throw it’s follow up AC round off course, the shell impacting on a rock formation just to the side of the BattleMaster.

“Jeez, that took my whole left side off! You’re gonna pay for that, you f***er!” Keed shouted over the comm.

“D-for-Donald is a Clint,” Sierra added, as the hostile faded back into the dust, “And a d*** fine shot, I might add.”

The seconds ticked by as Keed and Sierra stared into the dust, the only sounds the howling wind and the distant sounds of Rudbeck’s battle with Charlie the Archer. Paranoia set in, and she spun quickly, convinced it must be behind her, but there was nothing there. Sierra turned back, just in time to see a faint mag blur behind Keed’s BattleMaster.

“Revin! Behind you!”

Keed’s response was remarkable. He flung the BattleMaster over backwards, the Clint’s emerald beams skimming above it by mere inches and scorching Sierra’s left arm. As the BattleMaster neared horizontal, Keed fired it’s jump jets, launching the 85 ton behemoth head-first into the Clint. As the two ‘Mechs rolled on the ground, Keed raised his machine’s right arm, extending the blade with a snikt! He punched down, but the Clint managed to block the blow with its left arm. With a grinding of metal, the Clint snapped the blade off, the four feet of steel still embedded in it’s forearm.

The two machines staggered to their feet again, the Clint bathing the front of Keed’s ‘Mech with it’s lasers again. It was also doing it’s best to keep the BattleMaster between it and Sierra. If she fired, she had a good chance of hitting Keed in the back. Not that that might matter much longer: she could see something burning through the gaping holes in Keed’s rear armour.

“If I’m going to burn, I’m taking you with me,” Keed growled, stepping toward the Clint and gripping it in a headlock. As the Clint pounded on his leg with it’s cannon arm, he overloaded the reactor, the resulting explosion tearing both ‘Mechs apart.

“REVIN! Oh my god, Revin, NO!” Sierra cried as the burning debris bounced off her cockpit.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

High above the blossoming fireball, Revin Keed watched his ‘Mech die. He’d had to manually stabilise the reactor once he’d switched off the safeties, leaving it to overload the moment he pulled the ejection handle. With a whoosh and a thunk, the seat’s parachute deployed, and Revin started idly wondering what his next BattleMech would be, and what poor fool he’d steal it from.