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Your Last Chance is Here & Now - RP


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#21 Oni Storm

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Posted 23 August 2012 - 10:24 PM

July 30th 0600hrs 3049
Ryan's Retreat

Ryan's Retreat is set into the side of a mountain and towers like some form of Ice sculpture that never melted or fades, the ice sickles themselves seem to form an outer protective layer over the walls, parapets, and towers. There is even a really REALLY old fountain in front of the main building that remains frozen over most of the year through. Local legends say it is rumored and speculated to be from before the Star league itself, and certain quacks even speculate that perhaps the planet wasn't always the Alaskan tundra and wilderness it is today. The Retreat itself currently plays host a full time servant staff of about 20 including maid's, cooks, butlers, and a chamberlain, all of which are hardly ever seen by observers or especially any of the locals, that being because no one is allowed on the grounds of the keep with special permissions granted by the Matriarch herself and signed in triplicate by the ruling counsel. From time to time it is even rumored Redjack Ryan himself is said to come and stay here with his wife and family, but such reports are mostly unfounded or confirmed. The compound surrounding and beneath it however houses the members of 3rd company 2nd battalion, and consists of both a reinforced lance of various tanks and a full company of mechs including a birth for each and a somewhat re-cobbled together repair bay. Nothing fancy but quite impressive for pirates. The walls themselves house a vast assortment of support staff, followers, and hanger-ons all of which are are little more than a arms reach away from the beck and call of the various denizens inside, and all making it their job to separate the pirate / mercs their booty. So of course, it is to this most unwelcoming scene of debauchery, depravity, and overall cruelest of environments that our little raven haired vegelantee strode.

Meanwhile inside the walls the warning announcements interrupted every channel and loud speakers were blaring the first call to a medley of trumpets over rock music and the following orders. "all pilots and crews, make your way to ready ops. Breakfast 0800 and mission briefing to follow... I repeat... all pilots and crews, make your way to ready ops. Breakfast 0800 and mission briefing to follow.. that is all".


July 30th 0600 hrs 3049
Rosey Moon Motel, Inside the wall of Ryan's Retreat; Hope

Candice threw a pillow at the holotube and pushed the man beside her out of bed. "The master's call. Now get out and leave the money on the nightstand.. oh, and turn that Gawd Dam thing off would you. I was enjoying this.." then rolled back over snuggling up in the comforter like a burrito and feigned to even care.


July 30th 0600 hrs 3049
Brig below Ryan's Retreat; Hope

"I told you last time.. you want any of these you gotta put in the proper paper work and stop bringing them back so roughed up and bruised... I got my as5 chewed to h3ll over that last girl.. Now if you want another one you gotta do something for me or to make it worth.. (He trailed off as the announcement was made) "all pilots and crews, make your way to ready ops. Breakfast 0800 and mission briefing to follow... I repeat... all pilots and crews, make your way to ready ops. Breakfast 0800 and mission briefing to follow.. that is all." before looking back at Johann and the prize he had obviously wanted and picked out. "Go on man, you heard the call.. Go Go.. The girl will still be here when you get back.. We'll talk then". and took the rope from Johann's hand, leading the dirty, grimy, doe eyed girl back towards the pins far below.

Edited by Oni Storm, 17 February 2013 - 04:08 PM.


#22 Brenden

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Posted 24 August 2012 - 03:43 PM

The pain was mild, nothing more than a tick to the back of the head, but even that tick was enough. He gave himself into a sigh, might as well, he mumbled to himself. As he washed up his face, switched off his clothes for his cooling vest and helmet, he went back to the mirror to face himself.
Much better, he thought in his mind as he took one last look at his jaw side. Five o'cleave shadow, just perfect he thought and opened the door. It flew up as he drew nearer, and slammed shut below him as he walked past. He seemed to be a little casual in his movements, but still kept a certain rigity and haste to his legs. The suit was uncomfortably tight, but the tighness ensured the survival of his being.

As he walked into the hanger, he saw his prized beauty there; A Jet black Ostsol, the visor a deep yellow and the claw-like hands at the side. On the left side, as per his request when he joined, was to swap out the Lasers for a Single PPC. The other Large Laser and Medium Laser were kept in the right torso. As he crossed the catwalk, he noticed several empty spots where other 'mechs once stood. Must I miss everything? He thought to himself....

A few minutes later

Reactor Online, Systems Online, Hydraulics Online, Weapons Online, said the seductive feminime voice in his nero-helmet. All functioning systems, nominal.

The Battlemech, which had been placed in a crouching position, rigided it's legs and rose up, towering over all. As the Hanger door opened, the Battlemech began it's trek out onto the pavement. I love the smell of metal in the morning, he said in his whisper voice.

As he walked along the road, he saw a street lamp whose bulb had burned out. Probably from some pranksters, but he thought it was a marvelous oppertunity. The Ostsol leaned forward and with its claws took up the lamp, now it's club, and continued onward.

#23 Listless Nomad

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Posted 25 August 2012 - 11:46 AM

July 30th 0600 hrs 3049
Brig below Ryan's Retreat; Hope

Johann reflexively moved his hand as the jailer tried to ****** the girl's rope and glared at the man who stood defiantly between himself and the captive.

"I told you last time.. you want any of these you gotta put in the proper paper work and stop bringing them back so roughed up and bruised... I got my arse chewed to **** over that girl.. Now if you want another one you gotta do something for me or to make it worth...

The man's voice was cut off by an alarm klaxon going off, and the antiquated PA system screeching. Both Johann and the jailer glaced upwards at the box mounted on the wall.

"All pilots and crews, make your way to ready ops. Breakfast 0800 and mission briefing to follow... I repeat... all pilots and crews, make your way to ready ops. Breakfast 0800 and mission briefing to follow.. that is all."

Johann sighed and relaxed his grip on the girl's rope. He knew his desires would have to wait.

"Go on man, you heard the call.. Go Go.. The girl will still be here when you get back.. We'll talk then".

With that, the jailer took the rope from Johann's hand and lead the young woman back to the pens. With a lecherous look, Johann followed her retreating form with his eyes before taking off at a light jog back to the barracks room. Entering the room quickly, Johann was pleased to see Xerxes and Ortelli were already up and getting into their tanker's overalls. Quickly changing, Johann slipped into his own overalls and grabbed his combat helmet. Turning to his men, Johann growled out his words. He was still in a bad mood having been denied by the jailer.

"Let's go boys, sounds like we finally have something to kill. We do this right and I'll spring for a 'four for one' special for you and Ortelli down at the Playful Kitten." At that, Xerxes immidiately broke out into a monster grin and broke out into a light jog towards the Ops Room. Ortelli just just sighed and buckled his helmet.

Johann smiled to himself. Action meant the 'Dirty Girl' got to go out and play. Action also meant prisoners.

Maybe this time I can get one all to myself ...

His mood visibly brightened, Johann opened the door to the Ops Room, where many other tanks and mechwarriors were already gathering.

#24 Thom Frankfurt

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Posted 25 August 2012 - 07:34 PM

View PostOni Storm, on 23 August 2012 - 10:24 PM, said:

July 30th 0600hrs 3049
Ryan's Retreat

Ryan's Retreat is set into the side of a mountain and towers like some form of Ice sculpture that never melted or fades, the ice sickles themselves seem to form an outer protective layer over the walls, parapets, and towers. There is even a really REALLY old fountain in front of the main building that remains frozen over most of the year through. Local legends say it is rumored and speculated to be from before the Star league itself, and certain quacks even speculate that perhaps the planet wasn't always the Alaskan tundra and wilderness it is today. The Retreat itself currently plays host a full time servant staff of about 20 including maid's, cooks, butlers, and a chamberlain, all of which are hardly ever seen by observers or especially any of the locals, that being because no one is allowed on the grounds of the keep with special permissions granted by the Matriarch herself and signed in triplicate by the ruling counsel. From time to time it is even rumored Redjack Ryan himself is said to come and stay here with his wife and family, but such reports are mostly unfounded or confirmed. The compound surrounding and beneath it however houses the members of 3rd company 2nd battalion, and consists of both a reinforced lance of various tanks and a full company of mechs including a birth for each and a somewhat re-cobbled together repair bay. Nothing fancy but quite impressive for pirates. The walls themselves house a vast assortment of support staff, followers, and hanger-ons all of which are are little more than a arms reach away from the beck and call of the various denizens inside, and all making it their job to separate the pirate / mercs their booty. So of course, it is to this most unwelcoming scene of debauchery, depravity, and overall cruelest of environments that our little raven haired vegelantee strode.

Meanwhile inside the walls the warning announcements interrupted every channel and loud speakers were blaring the first call to a medley of trumpets over rock music and the following orders. "all pilots and crews, make your way to ready ops. Breakfast 0800 and mission briefing to follow... I repeat... all pilots and crews, make your way to ready ops. Breakfast 0800 and mission briefing to follow.. that is all".


July 30th 0600 hrs 3049
Rosey Moon Motel, Inside the wall of Ryan's Retreat; Hope

Candice threw a pillow at the holotube and pushed the man beside her out of bed. "The master's call. Now get out and leave the money on the nightstand.. oh, and turn that Gawd Dam thing off would you. I was enjoying this.." then rolled back over snuggling up in the comforter like a burrito and feigned to even care.


Louis grumbled while dressing, cursing everything from his hangover to what he previously thought was a barfly turned lady of the night.

Well so much for a second go at it. He thought bitterly as he layed a small stack of crumpled H-bills upon the nightstand. Looking around making sure he wasn't leaving anything behind he stormed off morosely, and not turing the holotube off out of spite, he walked off into the cold.

A few minutes later.

The brisk walk in the cold did wonders for Lou's mood. No longer groggy and p!ssed he now found himself approaching his baby, the 75 ton Zhukov heavy tank known affectionaly as 'Lucky LoPan.' The name was from it's former owner's who painstakenly scribed the name in several languages about the image of some ancient Chinesse Emperor in yellow robes with freakishly long fingernails and some type of unholy light streaming from the characters eyes and mouth. The tank itself had a dull ugly brick red color to it that reminded Lou of rust or long dried blood. On the front of the tank someone had took the time to weld a cowcatcher on it. And everywhere were dents, pits, grooves and gouges in the tanks armor. And Louis neared he became aware of the smell of spilt fuel permanating from the tank.

"Still no luck?" He asked the group of tankjocks, his merry band of cutthroats hanging out bored around the tank. As a response a couple shook their heads, while the stout burley driver spat out a stream of brackish tobacco juice.

"So, no?" Louis shook his head sadly. That was the crews third attempt at locating the leak and rebuilding the fuel system. Still failure though. Looking over the group and with satisfaction seeing them decked out for battle he nodded his turned to reguard the bosses Rommel tank idiling nearby.

Another drill? Louis sighed at the thought, he wanted action.

#25 Brenden

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Posted 26 August 2012 - 06:51 PM

As the Ost' marched through the streets, he could feel the eyes of onlookers staring at him. Even though the street looked abandoned, there were tell tale signs of life still presence: Cats and dogs, collars on them, were running into doors with padioes or doggy doors, people from the roofs stared at him as he dragged his lamp-club across the asphalt. Did he not care for the traveling standards of these people? Probably not, for even walking on the streets damaged them; instead of the regular foot print, he left six circle and symetrical holes left by the clets that were the soles of his Ost's foot. A car stopped aprubtly by him as he crossed the intersection, and didnt' seem to notice he stepped on a child's bicycle.
His radar was a mess, and so was the Atlas he had purchased from a merchant. Flipping the switch, he called out on radio.
"Hello, is anyone out there?"
His voice was groggy, unclean with tiredness seeped into tone.
A yawn could be heard.

#26 Oni Storm

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Posted 28 August 2012 - 09:08 AM

View PostOni Storm, on 17 August 2012 - 11:19 AM, said:

July 29th 0730 3049
Corridors of Hope HGP Relay

"Dad! Do you know who that was? That's the girl from the bar the other night. You remember the one you tipped at the table." (Danny stopped short of describing the rest as he saw his father's fixed gaze and suddenly realized he'd said to much again) then cowed his head starring at the floor and the feet of the Precentor, still standing with them.


July 30 0400 3049
Infirmary Hope HPG Relay

It had been nearly a day since the woman's collapse and the confessions that came out in the hallway leading to the Infirmary and over the course of the next several hours the Precentor was regaled with the stories of the two's visit to the local burlesque show (they thought that sounded better than strip-club) and had to wade through all the pun and innuendos to get to the truth, fortunately for the Jacobsons they were saved in the nick of time from the Precentor's wraith, as the girl woke and began fluttering her eyes groggily. Looking over to the angelic form of the figure she had seen at the door she could not help but wonder what had happened "Am I.. Am ..I uh... AM I DEAD ?!?!?" excitement and uncertainty filled her voice, as she panicked and asked the vision before her directly, totally oblivious or ignorant of the other two men in the room. She seemed like she was reaching out for her dear life as she tried desperately to clasp for the Precentor's cloak and fell out of the medical bed and onto the cold tile floor. She scampered quickly with tear filled eyes and clung to Precentor Sanderson disparately asking him once more "Tell am I dead?! Gawd D*mn You ANSWER ME SPIRIT!.! AM I Dead or what??!!! You BASTORD..." She continued to cry and fell to her knees sobbing uncontrollably, before curling into a ball like a scared child.

Edited by Oni Storm, 15 February 2013 - 07:38 PM.


#27 Oni Storm

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Posted 28 August 2012 - 09:20 AM

July 30th 0045 3049
Hope city streets

"Hello, is anyone out there?"

"Ah.. HElloo Hello.. This is the South Gate.. um.. we just had an unidentified mech blow past here with about 15 odd vehicals following it.. Um could someone fill us in on what exactly is going on around here? You guys out for a late night joyride or something? What gives?" came the voice of what one could only imagine as a little pimply faced barely out of high school, local wannabe cop, his shaking and nervousness overly apparent as he answered Bjorn's call.

Edited by Oni Storm, 15 February 2013 - 07:38 PM.


#28 Oni Storm

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Posted 28 August 2012 - 05:37 PM

July 30th 0700 3049
Ryan's Retreat, Ops Room for "Prescott's Perpetrators";
reinforced tank lance Ryan's Rebels 3rd Company, 2nd Battalion

The smokey haze, and smell of body odors, unkempt clothing, and occasional urine was overwhelming and choking to most normal folks. However here, here it was a sign of acceptance and comradery (not to mention fortitude) here it meant you were one of the boyz regardless of gender, creed, color, or faction. Here everyone was made an equal by the sheer lackluster approach of most everyone in attendance. A good quarter of the "troops" still weren't present, be they readying their vehicles or still hung over and stumbling the way here. It was into this den of dingy, dirty, non-caring, non-aligned rabble that Ivan Krauss strode and kicked a chair around so that he could straddle it and keep his head propped up on it's back. He sit there like a cowboy but glared and looked like a linebacker hungry for his next meal. It was a wonder and a bit of a side beat as to how or why this man ever thought he should be a tanker. Heck it was often even joked that he must have made a mistake and thought they'd turn him into a tank, but few would dare say it to his face. It mattered not, he cared little for the small minded peoples that were his comrades in arms, in fact he cared for little of anything it seemed to those who worked with him. Often they described him as cold, alone, and uncaring of anyone or anything except the kill. These were all things he'd overhead in the hushed whispers and just out of sight shadows of the retreat and now thinking about them, he couldn't help but smile. A rare sight that made him seem all the more menacing to those around him, like a large cat still batting at it's prey. He drew himself up tight, his muscles rippling and bulging beneath his barely fitting wife beater black top. His knuckles cracking individually in a cascading crescendo that ended with the loud popping of his side to side neck movement. He lay his head upon his folded arms and closed his eyes, waiting for the briefing to begin, and hoping this time maybe, just maybe it would be the last outing on the God forsaken icy rock, where in his opinion "Last Chance"; was what you had every day, and "Hope"; was it would end tomorrow.

Edited by Oni Storm, 15 February 2013 - 07:39 PM.


#29 Oni Storm

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Posted 29 August 2012 - 01:02 PM

July 30th 0800 3049
Ryan's Retreat, Ops Room for "Prescott's Perpetrators"

As the gathered personnel waited for the briefing to begin with a mix of blank bored stares and amped up excitement the door to dingy little gathering burst open and in walked an ox of a man, his dirty red bearded face showing signs of fading and turning gray. "Ok listen up!!! Here's the low down on what we got. At 0100 this morning an unknown assailant attacked and set fire to part of the warehouse district of Hope then proceeded to run amuck through the city streets and now seems to be headed here. There are about three civilian hovercraft following the target and a news chopper tailing it from the sky. We have been informed by the Ministry that this may be a terror cell or a lone nut-job looking for some type of martyrdom. The target is a yellow and black Cicada, it may be carrying explosives of who knows what origin. Instructions are simple, take the fraker out. Try to avoid close combat and try to stay clear just in case those rumors are true. So here's the positionings [he pointed to the blackboard where the hillside had be drawn crudely from above, the Retreat represented by little more than a box drawn into the East side] the LRMS (his reference for the LRM carries that normally accompanied him) will follow me to the ridge overlooking the keep. Lou, I want you to take your wedge and take up position to the North West of the mount here in case it breaks and decides to come around. Johann take your boyz straight up the North road. That way your babies will have some traction [he looked directly at the Hertzer crew who were always complaining about their wheel] Stop short of the mountains though. I believe "Bam" and her Mech goofs may be put on this as well, so don't any of you dare miss or let those glory hounds get any credit. you got me ?! Get that kill or get gone. Good luck and happy hunting. Oh, and by the way we gotz a bit of a surprise for the lucky killer."

Edited by Oni Storm, 15 February 2013 - 07:39 PM.


#30 Brenden

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Posted 29 August 2012 - 08:13 PM

As the Ostsol read through the reports of the daily happenings on Hope to a sleeping Bjorn, something began to screetch in his cabin that awoke him from his half-dazed slumber: Beep beep beep beep, went the sceen and he immediatly sat up. "Wha-?" He said to himself as he saw something heading toward him. It seemed like like a large bee, thanks to his dazed eyes and drooping lids. When his vision began to clear, he saw that it was infact a 'mech running toward him. He couldn't get a good look at it, but it quickly turned the corner and vanished.

His radar began to scream red; Cicada inbound, enemy detected! Almost automatically the man brought his battlemech to full power and gave chase. Sure, it would be nearly impossible for a Heavy to catch up to a 'mech as fast as that, but in an urban jungle like this, he might just have his chance. As he rounded the corner he saw the Cicada barreling through the street. "Hey, stop!" He said as his bulbous 'mech ran toward it, running in an awkward position as it's club swinged in the breeze.

It must have heard him, or atleast seen the 'mech on radar, for almost as soon as he was in range a bright red beam shot out from it's rear; missing the Ostsol by about ten degrees. "********!" Muttered the pilot, and tried to get a lock on him. As he carried out this action, it fired it
s beam again, this time striking him in he lower left torso. The damage was minimal; Small Laser fire, nothing to big. He would return the favor once a lock was achieved, and fired his Medium and Large Lasers toward the bee colored 'mech. Both shots missed, for as soon as he was about to fire three civilian vehicals came barreling out of an alley way and stumbled Bjorn, surprising him enough to make him come to a complete stop.

#31 Oni Storm

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Posted 29 August 2012 - 09:22 PM

Both shots missed, for as soon as he was about to fire three civilian vehicals came barreling out of an alley way and stumbled Bjorn, surprising him enough to make him come to a complete stop.

July 30th 0055 hrs 3049
Hope city streets

The civilians below breathed a huge sigh of relief as the lumbering green monster stopped just shy of one of the airlift fan on the closest, it's canvas pierced by the clawed foot of Bjorn's mech. It took nearly another 10 minutes for them to get clear so Bjorn could resume his pursuit, and luckily for him the joy riders were in contact with so highschool buddies who were still keeping pace with the now outbound intruder. They relayed the coordinates to him and gave Bjorn the frequency to listen in on the chasers chatter. It might take a while to catch up but as long as those kids didn't lose sight and could keep pace, Bjorn knew where the intruder was heading for now at least.


July 0057 hrs 3049
Interior Cockpit Cicada; Hope city streets

(carp I hope he's ok, but dawn that club looked pretty damn scary itself) the raven haired beauty thought to herself as she slipped around the corner and watched the laser fire meld into the cinder block of the building beside her. (Holy carp he's trying to kill me) she pushed the little mech for everything it had and ran out of the city and on to her real target far through the mountains to the south. (I don't care, they won't catch me no mater what. not until that bastord pays for all he's done) she then turned full throttle and made a bee-line [ :)] towards the edge of town.


July 30th 0110 hrs 3049
Outskirts of Southern Hope

She gave one last look at the city she knew she'd never return to and quickly burst past the South gate once more with fewer hitch hikers behind her this time, and knew deep in soul that she'd soon get the rest and peace of mind she deserved (just so long as he goes down before I do) a smile and slight tick covered her face and she sat in her increasingly sweat soaked chair watching the Yellow Jacket as it kept it's fleet gliding pace as it was crushing the fields below. the farmlands looked so different from up here and somehow more brittle (like my heart is right now. They too shall know the pain of suffering that that man has brought to me and this world as a whole. I'll show them all just what an evil piece of carp he his and just what he's doing to them behind their backs, yes that's it I'll show them here and now to their faces just how evil of a man he has become) she let out a few blasts from her lasers at the fields catching the bails of straw and hay ablaze and swinging her mech's upper torso from side to side. she seemed lost in the moment and suddenly shook herself loose long enough to set her path towards Ryan's Retreat and continue on her way. The fires raging and smoke bellowing from the gathered bails fading in the distance.

Edited by Oni Storm, 15 February 2013 - 07:40 PM.


#32 Listless Nomad

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Posted 30 August 2012 - 10:28 AM

July 30th 0825 3049
Ryan's Retreat, Motor Pool "Prescott's Perpetrators"

Johann couldn't stop himself from smiling. It wasn't a friendly, or a light hearted smile. It was darker, more primal - like a predator about to make a kill. As Johann climbed the turret of his Rommel tank, he observed Xerxes' massive frame disappearing down the hatch, before turning to look out over the rest of the motor pool. Rather than a building, the Ryan's Retreat motor pool was a large open area, completely exposed to the frigid elements. As he stood atop his tank, he could hear the other engines of the lance turning over, some more easily than others. To his right, he could hear a clanging as the venerable Zhukov "Lo-Pan" finally got it's engine turned over, although the cloud of black smoke that erupted from the exhaust pipes spoke of an ongoing leak. Johann's eyes watched intently as it's commanderLouis Jennings Jr. approached his baby.

"Lucky" Lou indeed...not today Junior. This prize is mine, all mine.

With a feral grin, Johann abandoned his post top his tank, and began climbing down through the hatch into the turret. Xerxes had already taken his customary position against the ammo doors, thoughtfully leafing through a local skin magazine. The turret was as immaculate as ever, with all weapons primed and ready to go.

"Ready to rock boss." said Xerxes flatly, without looking up from the magazine.

"Let's try to focus today Xerx. We got ourselves a live one, and you know what I promised if we kill this mech..." Johann was trying to be patient, but the man's disinterested attitude was beginning to bug him. Johann wanted his kill badly. With a feral grin of his own, Xerxes looked up for the first time from the magazine.

"Oh I know boss man. I'm picking the four out right now." With a wink, Xerxes stowed the magazine and snapped up his combat helmet, and a look of determination masked his face. Pleased, Johann finished the final snap on his own helmet, and gently keyed his throat mike.

"Start her up Ortelli"

With a satisfying rumble, the mighty Rommel roared to life...before promptly cutting off. Johann frowned as Ortelli's voice came through his helmet earphones.

"Uhh....one second boss."

Johann could hear the muffled swears and bangs coming from the driver's compartment, even through the armor plating separating the turret from the driver. Finally, Johann heard the engine turn over again, and with a cough and a sputter it roared to life once more, this time staying on. Shaking his head slightly, Johann poked his head up through the turret hatch, and grabbed hold of the gimbal mounted small laser. With a loud whistle, he grabbed the attention of the other two tanks in his wedge and waved his arm above his head to signal them to fall into formation. Johann's ears perked up as the voice of his commander can through his headphones.

"Perpetrators, this is Perpetrator actual. Move out."

Keying his mike again, Johann settled his back against the wall of the turret, preparing for a long drive.

"Let's go Ortelli. Take us out."

As the mighty tank lurched forward, Johann crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Soon there would be action. Soon his needs would be fulfilled.

Edited by Listless Nomad, 30 August 2012 - 10:28 AM.


#33 Thom Frankfurt

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Posted 30 August 2012 - 07:58 PM

July 30th 0825 3049
Ryan's Retreat, Motor Pool "Prescott's Perpetrators"


God's what the He77 did I drink last night?

As Lou made his way towards Lo-Pan he kept running the disturbing thought through his head that he may have been drugged. He thought over the mornings happenings trying to piece together what happened the night before, but was having no luck piercing the fog that obscured all memories from the night before. Last thing he remembered was being in the back bar of a watering hole known as 'Riley's' staring at that chicks tramp stamp when he wasn't downing cold shots of some licorish flavored booze that some of the locals swore by. Next thing he knew he was waking up in the Motel room.

He suddenly scratched himself trying not to think about catching Space Herpies, and tried to focus on the mission as he neared the rusty tank he commanded. Smiling he looked over his crew who almost professionally stood at attention (well, periphery bandit style anyways) before Lo-Pan.

His driver, Tony, half stood/hung before the pitted cowcatcher, dangling from one of the autocannon barrels. Possesing a weasly face and wearing a fez the greasy driver fiddled with his vest while trying to fight off bordom. A pockmarked and acne scarred boy stood next to the greasy fezwearing wierdo. With limp blond hair that hung down to his shoulders and a low sloping forehead, the peuberty plagued gunner nodded awknowegment to Lou.

"How's it going Gunther?" Louis asked while looking over to his other two crewmen.

Large and with a morose demeanior, Ivan rocked back on his heels in antisipation for the coming skirmish. Though the man did disturb Louis a bit, he had to admit that Ivan was arguably the best mechanic and loader in the Perpertrators, barring despite not being able to figure out the tanks fuel system problem that is.

And then there was Patricia... Tough as nails and sweet as sugar, the silky voiced radio operator winked at Louis as he eyeballed her curvy figure in the tankers jumpsuit that was two sizes two small for her. He looked away and she giggled.

"Alright guys and gal, you've heard the boss. There's some mech out there, stomping around and acting like a badass. We're going to give 'em a reality check in the worse possible way. Let's go get that bonus, mount up."

"Yes sir!" Gunter and Patrica shouted then scrambled up the 75 ton tank to slither into their compartments. Tony and Ivan just shrugged with a 'whatever' shrug and meandered their way to their positions. Finally he mounted up himself then looking around the motor pool as the rest of the Perpertrator's tanks fired up. Haging out of the top hatch he waved his arm about and motioned to the two Manticores that made up the rest of his wedge to fall in. With a smile as the two faster tanks moved to join him he donned his battle helmet and spoke into the mic that connected him to the rest of his crew.

"Forward!"

#34 Oni Storm

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Posted 03 September 2012 - 07:18 PM

July 30th 0930 hrs 3049
In and around Ryan's Retreat

As icy flakes swirled, arose, and fell again the tanks of the Perpetrator's moved into position and idled their machines down. Now the waiting game was on. This was normally the worst and most dangerous part of any operation for the various assembled crews. The chance that boredom, restlessness, sleep, hang-overs, or any number of things might set in while they sat there waiting and force them to let their guard down. The tediousness of it all had gotten to more than it's fair share of crews over the centuries since tank warfare began, the hot sweaty and cramped conditions often accounting for many misses, and sometimes resulting in death. They watched the displays then, ever vigilant, looking for any sign of movement as the hours passed. Then there is was a blip to the North then another and another and another.


July 30th 1200 hrs 3049
Seven plus miles North of Ryan's Retreat

The inside was freakishly hot, to the point she had ditched her blouse and britches hours ago, and even now she was still setting in a puddle of her sweat (why the h^ll would you have leather inside of this pressure cooker? I mean really of all the things to leave out, you forget a liquid cooling cushion. Geez Big Spender. Ahhh) almost bare except for the thin almost see through panties that clung to her like an extra skin now. She'd thought numerous times of trying to break or crack the cockpit somehow, but kept chickening out at the last minute thinking about the cold outside. (I can burn up in here or freeze out there oh the irony.. I swear Phil you'll pay. You're so going to PAY for all of This!) She looked down and continued to see the three blips trailing behind her and yet another that came and went at the far edge any time she slowed and couldn't help but wonder which one would tell her story and if any of them would ever figure it out as to the whys and hows. (Won't be long now. Just another six miles or so. Then it'll all be said and done) A wickedly evil smile crossed her face and she began to silently hum to herself an age old tune not too long forgotten.


July 30th 1200 hrs 3049
INA-DU Civilian Hovercraft Interior, tailing "Yellow Jacket"
Seven plus miles North of Ryan's Retreat

Micheal's butt was starting to fall asleep and he began to wonder just when was the last time he'd sat for soo long when he caught glimpse of something reflective on the hillside to the East. (What is that? Is that some type of cell tower or something?) "What is that?" the words slipped out before he'd even realized and he was still trying to make out if that was a light or something else on top, through the binoculars as he heard a reply.

"Oh that's one of the signal towers. They're all over the passes that lead to my house. Auntie says "you can never be to careful of the masses" They alert the house servants to the coming and goings of all the traffic through here." Little Micheal beamed with his know it all grin.

Raina just hit her head into the steering console a few times to dull the pain and tried her best to smile and continue driving. The "Yellow Jacket", as it was now being called thanks to the boy in the back's vivid description across the car's Citizens' Band radio,​was still occassionly and erratically changing speed and course as much as it could maneuvering through the tight passes of the mountains and hillside. Never once did it seem to care enough to do anything about the chasers. She spoke up; "It's still not changed course. what do you suppose they are going do when they get there? I mean surely they know there's over a company of units there right? Why would anyone in their right mind go there, Michael? Are they daft? what do you think, hum? I mean they gotta be crazy, right?" She figured with as far as things had gone she might as well see where this was going to lead and if the boy beside her had any real sense or not. He was kinda cute after all and he'd been pretty nice and all (except for that b@^tch comment earlier) and she'd hate to see him get into any real trouble.


July 30th 1200 hrs 3049
Bjorn's Ostsol; Mountain Pass
17 plus miles North of Ryan's Retreat
10 Miles North of "Yellow Jacket"

Bjorn had kept chase for more hours now then he cared to count, but he was close. Several times he had picked up the fleeing mech's signature briefly and with the help of the tailing civilians he was able to slowly close the gap. Some ten miles now is all that separated him from his quarry. The others had thought him daft and gave up pursuit the moment the Mech had left the gates. He was informed however after the burning of the fields that he should try to take the thing down quickly and bring any survivors back for questioning and to pay for their crimes. Apparently there was something about a steak dinner and recommendation too, but Bjorn knew this was the typical bureaucratic BS. It mattered little right now anyway, not with him closing in and the Retreat being a scant thirty minutes or so out.

Edited by Oni Storm, 15 February 2013 - 07:41 PM.


#35 G is for Gamma

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Posted 05 September 2012 - 12:01 PM

Hope HPG Infirmary

The young women had awoken in a fit of hysteria, tumbling from the padded infirmary table and on to the cold tile. Her hands, small and shaking, clutched at Sandtanner’s vestments. She demanded to know if she was alive, calling the Precentor a spirit. She tried to stand but only collapsed under her own weight, curling into the fetal position and sobbing like a terrified child. It was heartbreaking.

Herschel Sandtanner took a knee next to the young lady, laying his arm on her shoulder, as gently as he could, careful not to startle the poor woman.

“You’re fine lass. Calm down. You took a bit of a spill in our mess is all; you’re safe and sound and most importantly alive. I promise.”

She flinched at his touch like a wounded animal. She gulped for air between sobs, if she didn’t calm down soon she’d hyperventilate and they’d be back to square one with their mysterious guest. He’d never seen anyone so…frazzled. It vaguely reminded him of his sister having nightterrors after watching a horror movie when she was seven. His father had stayed up with her, talking softly to calm her down. Perhaps a similar approach would work here? It was worth the attempt at least.

“My name is Herschel Sandtanner, I’m the man you wished to speak too earlier.” He spoke slowly, unsure of what to say. “Are you okay?”

#36 Listless Nomad

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Posted 05 September 2012 - 09:08 PM

July 30th 1210 hrs 3049
Two miles North of Ryan's Retreat

Xerxes couldn't help but shiver every time he saw that smile grow across his commander's face. He'd known Johann for a while now, and he knew what that smile meant.

Prey...

Nervously he went back to reading his skin mag. It was all he could do to keep from looking at the commander. He'd seen Johann focused before, and been in a lot of combat with him. Xerxes had every confidence in his tank and it's crew, but something was different this time. Something had changed in Johann, and all he knew was that he pitied whoever was in that renegade Cicada.

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

Johann adjusted the focus on his binoculars, trying to pinpoint what he had seen earlier. The dust cloud on the horizon had been visible for at least an hour, and the radar had picked up several targets even before that. The Rommel was built for close range combat however, and Johann liked to see what he was going to kill. After one final adjustment, the feral smile crossed his face once more.

There it is. I've got you now....

Through the lenses, he could just make out the intermittent glints of light bouncing off the racing mech, Lowering the binoculars for a moment, Johann appraised his tank's position. Astride a main road, Ortelli had managed to drive the Rommel into a smile defile, allowing the tank to assume a "hull down" position. This left only the turret and it's all important main gun exposed, while hiding the rest of the tank. With light snow accumulation beginning to break up the outline of his tank, Johann was confident the Cicada wouldn't be able to see him until it was far too late.

The two other tanks in his wedge were similarly stationed, albeit on the opposite side of the road. The Hetzer crew had spent a significant amount of time dragging brush and thicket in front of their vehicle, to better obscure it from view, although much of it looked now sorely out of place. The Patton was held further down the road, to provide a safety in case the mech managed to get through, and because it's lighter guns would have less of a chance to knock out the mech in a single strike. The Patton commander was also on Johann's s#$t list.

Johann raised the binoculars to his face and focused on the racing mech once more. It had no idea the world of pain it was heading straight toward.

#37 Thom Frankfurt

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Posted 08 September 2012 - 11:15 PM

July 30th 1210 hrs 3049
Two miles North of Ryan's Retreat


"Man, it's colder than a witches t!t in here." Patrica whined through chattering teeth as they waited.

"In a brass bra, P.." Smiling Lou added on to the complaint and she cast an annoyed look his way.

He couldn't blame her though, sitting tight in a steel box waiting for some bogey to show up was no fun even under the best of situations. Add in the snow that had piled up around the ulgy brick red tank only added to the misery of it's (at the moment) not so merry crew. Looking through his periscope, (because he really doesn't want to stick his head out.) Louis looked through the frosted up scope over to where the two Manticores in his wedge sat hulled down atop a hill overlooking the road, largely obscured by the white powder. Grinning mischiviously Lou turned the scope back to look over the approach the killzone and almost felt bad for the rude surprise in store for the mechwarrior strutting its way here. There was no way he'd pick up a visual on the tanks laying in wait for the mech.

In a way Louis almost felt bad for the mechwarrior... Almost.

#38 Oni Storm

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Posted 12 September 2012 - 12:22 PM

July 30th 0410 hrs 3049
Hope HPG Infirmary

“My name is Herschel Sandtanner, I’m the man you wished to speak too earlier.” He spoke slowly, unsure of what to say. “Are you okay?”

"Hmmm?.?. Sanderson?.? Santana.?.?" she took in a big breath of air "Precentor Sandtanner! Yes. yes. That's who I'm looking for. Must find the Precentor for Desire. Tell him about the tattooed glowy man. How his green glow flashed and pulsated in the champaign room. He nearly beat her to death, Poor Roxie. He was.. was.. like some sort of monster!.!." she let out a huge sigh then and collapsed back into the floor in the fetal position, sobbing uncontrollably before sniffling it all in for a few more precious words. "You got to save us Precentor.. The monsters are coming and Only You Can Protect us.. They Know You're an Angel!!! and They're Come to Pluck your Feathers Father.!.!. Ah Ha Ha Hah Hah." She collapses fully into a convulsive fit of shaking and Hysteria until the sedative kicks in from Danny's quick actions to help.

"The poor dear. What do you suppose she meant by that Precentor? Monsters? And you being an Angel and all? I've never in all my years seen anything like it. What did Mr. Cook do to this poor child?" Daniel senior spoke inquisitively, if not somewhat nervous.

As Daniel Jr. lifted her back onto the bed he glimpsed the small of the young lady's back; "Hmm I wonder how they done did that? The other night she had a dragon tattooed back here. Now it's some sorta fish or something. Not even any redness or nothin. How you suppose they done did that huh?" He said looking to either of his elders for answers.

Edited by Oni Storm, 15 February 2013 - 07:42 PM.


#39 Oni Storm

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Posted 12 September 2012 - 12:53 PM

July 30th 1212 hrs 3049
Two miles North of Ryan's Retreat
Hertzer Interior

The Cicada came up fast, still at full sprint and crunching through the snow, white powder puffs being kicked up behind and caught as the light swirls of air continued to grow in the pass as more and more clouds began to roll in. The crew of the Hertzer waited now, sweat beading and then forming ice sickles upon their brows and a facial hair. The gunner was clinched up with every bit of bottled energy and as the yellow and black Cicada came into a perfect alignment with the firing line of his tanks' massive barrel, he quickly snapped off his shot with a huge thunderous dong and momentary collapse of air that tasted charred and gritting when it returned. The ringing inside their large metal coffin still continuing as he looked and felt his heart sink in dismay as the shell passed between the Mech's legs and exploded in a brilliant display behind it, sending gravel and ice shards splintering into its back and legs harmlessly.



July 30th 1212 hrs 3049
Two miles North of Ryan's Retreat
"Yellow Jacket" Cockpit

"What the Frak?!" the normaly silken voice screeched in an elevated tone as she asked herself the question. Quickly she zoomed to the "evil" and vile brush from winch the shot came. She slide a finger over the trigger and cut loose with an electric lightning-bolt of her own, catching the shrubby square and setting it ablaze as the metal beneath flared a white hot. A sudden spout of air steamed and poured forth from the impact site spewing upward and carrying some large black scaled snake into the air with it, before it came crashing back and crumpled under it's own weight onto the snow. "Gotcha!"



July 30th 1212 hrs 3049
Two miles North of Ryan's Retreat

"We're down! Repeat this is tank three we're down. Left front tire shredded, we're a pillbox now. Orders? Chief? You wanna hurry up and get us outta ere?!"

Edited by Oni Storm, 15 February 2013 - 07:42 PM.


#40 DigitalPanther

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Posted 12 September 2012 - 06:28 PM

Mal suddenly swerved as the road a hundred or so yards from him erupted in a shower of tarmac , snow and ice. He barely managed to avoid laying his bike down in the maneuver. He made a note to thank the woman at the shop for convincing him to spend the money on the all weather tires for his bike.The ice and bits of rock stung as they hit and riocheted off the exposed areas of his already chilled skin. Making a myraid of dull thwacks as they bounced off his riding leathers and helmet.

He had been chasing the Cicada for hours. Ever since he watched it break out of the warehouse gate as he was finishing up what passed for chicken from the fast food joint down the block that he hit on his way home for his "week end" at the end of his shift. He reached up and tapped the side of his helmet to engage his transmiter "Holy ****!! Dodge! Did you see that? Someone just opened up on the Cicada! we better hang back man this just got a lot more interesting," the sudden burst of adrenaline making him forget the cold for the moment.
"Yeah I saw it. I also see it didn't seem to slow you down much. Are you Fraking crazy? Following it that close? Do you even realize where we are? We started backing off a couple of miles back...That crazy sonova b!tch is headed straight for the fortress. And if you have a brain left in that head of your's you'll back off a bit too."

It was then that Malcolm finally looked around to get a better look at his surroundings. He had noticed the snow and lowered temperature but the thrill of seeing a renegade Mech stomping through town didn't exactly happen every day. The thrill and excitement of chasing it had distracted him from noticing the surroundings in depth. It was the first time in a very long time he had seen one in action at all that wasn't one of the annual parades, or the Matriarch's "Tax Men" out shaking the citizens down for their "tithe".

Of course he knew about the Cicada in the Warehouse. He had even been brazen enough to take a peek under its covering after his shifts many nights. He wasn't sure who it belonged to but based on the somewhat clumsy manner in which the Cicada had made it's trek through town and the countryside on its mini campaign of terror, Mal was pretty sure this wasn't the actual owner.
Now that he got his bearings and realized where he was he backed off significantly on the throttle allowing the Cicada to get much further ahead of him than the 150 yards he had been maintaining behind it. He also moved as far to the side of the road as he safely could incase the psycho in the Ostsol was still in pursuit and catching up. The last thing Mal wanted was to get skewered on the talons of the modified mech like the canopy of one of the other kids who were chasing the Cicada back in town.

Mal watched the arcs of electric death fly from the Cicada as it fired back at it's attacker and the poof of smoke that resulted. "Yeah backing off to watch from a semi safe distance sounds like a good idea. "

Edited by DigitalPanther, 12 September 2012 - 06:29 PM.






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