454 replies to this topic

[Charles Martel]

[[I'm doing the victory dance from downing the el cheapo wannabe lousy excuse for a Riflema.... err, Jagermech.

And now back to business.]]

With that Jagermech dealt with, Charles could fly lower and survey the rest of the city. Zooming in to see more detail a scene caught his eye away from the main mechfight. Some Delian infantry were looting a some buildings. A girl tried to keep them from carrying away something obviously precious to her, Charles' eyes narrowed.........


Planet Kirchbach, 3023

The Lyran raid was in full swing. Charles was running with his grandmother and his sister, Keiko as a Lyran Jagermech was walking from the direction they ran from. Charles could hear screams from people who couldn't avoid being stepped on, and the insane fool was firing off bursts with his mech's autocannons at buildings.

One burst hit a building nearby, spraying Charles, his grandmother, and sister in broken glass at concrete. A chunk of concrete hit his grandmother in the head and she fell unmoving. Keiko was severely cut up from the glass and Charles had his own blood in his eyes. He had to stop, his grandmother's and Keiko's safety was his responsibility. But that mech kept coming. There was no way he could carry Keiko and his grandmother. He was scared, but more so, furious.

He grabbed a nearby chunk of concrete and hurled it at the approaching mech. It didn't do anything, not that he expected it to.

Then a bolt of blue lightning streaked by, hitting the Lyran mech square in the torso, followed by the scream of multiple SRMs, knocking the Jagermech to the ground. A DCMS Panther strode by, and as the Jagermech tried to get up, promptly slammed it's foot down on the Lyran mech's "head" and again loosed the PPC into its torso. Following the DCMS mech were a squad of infantry, who helped Charles get his grandmother and sister out of the area, just in time as the ammunition in the Jagermech exploded, slamming the Panther into a building......


The Present

Charles was more furious. The Delian soldier slammed the butt of his rifle into the girl's face. As people came out, throwing rocks at the Delians, the troops aimed weapons........

Charles shifted into air-mech mode, and dropped to street level. He clicked on his LAM's external speaker as he accelerated. "PREPARE TO DIE! AND DON'T BEG FOR MERCY BECAUSE IT'S NOT ON TONIGHT'S PROGRAM!!!" he screamed into the mic as he loosed the large laser into the soldier's APC, igniting it. One tried to level a shoulder-fired SRM launcher, but Charles wasn't going to give him the chance, pulling the trigger and erased all evidence of the man's prior existence with a single medium laser beam. He shifted the LAM to mech mode, and started to outright slaughter the Delian troops with machinegun fire. He stopped between the people and the Delian troops, saying over the speakers, "Get the girl to a doctor, I'll deal with these worthless dogs." Some of the soldiers tried to hide behind a chunk of building and use their radio. By their look it wasn't doing much good, nevermind that Charles was not amused at their pathetic display, making his disdain known with a medium laser beam that incinerated them and their meager cover like flash paper against a blowtorch. He continued firing machineguns and lasers until the controls became sluggish and the heat bloom around his LAM was visible.

He ceased firing, none of the Delian troops survived. And Charles smiled. This was why he was a soldier, he was that line between people and those who sought to do them harm. It is what separates a mere MechWarrior from Samurai. It wasn't about duty expected of him, it was about honor, the price he paid to like the man he saw in the mirror.

He paused, letting the nearly saturated heatsinks catch back up. Charles laughed to himself a little, thinking that some of his fellow DCMS soldiers would consider anihilating an entire platoon of merc infantry with a mech as overkill.

"There is no such thing as overkill. There are only 'open fire' and 'I need to reload'", he muttered.

He had seen some of the "friendly" mechs beginning to move in directions indicative of converging on a point. So with his heat level returned to nominal he shifted the LAM to air-mech mode. Checking the area around him, he caught sight of the girl being tended by another civilian. She saluted him. He moved the hand arm of his LAM to return the salute and started moving slowly, waiting until he was clear of the civilians before accelerating rapidly and shifting to fighter mode and climbing.

He noticed Phiro so he locked on his comm laser to him, "Looks like everyone, or a good portion of everyone seems to be heading to a rally point. On a more personal note I fully intend to personally see to it that these worthless scumbuckets get a nice trial and a fine hanging, the ones that survive that is."

He retrieved a drink pouch from a compartment, snapped the lower part of the pouch and shook it before inserting the straw. The label said "Coffee, Hot", though after downing a sip Charles was fairly certain that something hideous and unspeakable must have happened to it on the way to becoming actual coffee. Over the comm link he added, "Keep one thing in mind, as it may one day save your life. I am a madman with a LAM."

[[And the soundtrack for this post is brought to you by Imperator Autocannons...............

]]

Edited by Charles Martel, 22 March 2012 - 12:08 AM.

[guardian wolf]

Phiro chuckled, as he heard Sal's comment, madman eh? He ain't seen anything yet. He then returned to the comms to relay Draco's message.
"Hey Sal, Draco wants you to form up on him, and set your heading 350 once outside of the city, we are going to pull back to our cache of sorts,"
He banked left, and spotted the Dervish, all he could do is wait for the go ahead from whomever was in there.
He checked back on that spot where the Jenner was at, he couldn't see where it was, but seemed whoever was patrolling that area was pretty pissed, and they were searching, well he thought at least, for him. The Jaggermech finally seemed to spot him, and opened up with a couple of it's ACs, and Phiro rolled left avoiding the AA fire.
"Please let me hit that son of a *****," He silently prayed to the Dervish.

[Aedris Nova]

[[Orcinus, I'm going to help you out in this post]]

Aedris could not help but chuckle at the sight. A King Dragon clubbing an Atlas to death with it's own arm. While the hilarity was there, it was overshadowed by the darker meaning. War on this planet had degenerated to zealot-like fanaticism , the mechwarriors bearing the sole purpose of devoting there every waking moment to conflict. The King Dragon was marked with the famous FFR Serpent, with the addition of a small silver star above it. Aedris had found what he was looking for. He knew it would be unwise to issue orders over the radio due to the likely presence of spooks or jammers. Sterin did his best to manipulate the "left arm" of his centurion. With his giant mechanical limbs, he issued commands using AFFS infantry symbols while repeating them to himself under his breath.

"Sergeant, get your Jenner to the top of that structure. Mark the target and wait to fire on it's head."

"Lieutenant, Take your Centurion around the square and aim for the kneecaps. Wait to fire."

If it were with any other lance, they would have stood their bewildered, but Aedris had hand-picked the members for this mission, he knew they would get the idea.

The loyal Davion mechs sped of and assumed their positions among the rubble. Aedris himself moved his centurion behind the remains of a bank, and raised the left arm of his mech once again into the air.

"If I die today, I know I will die with honor", whispered Aedris to himself

He glanced at the small picture of Academy students that he carried with him, on the frame were small gilded letters saying "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. Class of '38." Aedris held the picture solemnly before putting it back and counting to himself.

"3...2...1"

At that moment he lowered his metal appendage, and all hell broke lose.

[Listless Nomad]

[[I think I'm going to kill off my character. I don't have time to contribute to this story any more unfortunately. I'm way too far behind and it's gotten way too complex. I don't want others dependent on my contributions. Sorry everyone.]]

[Orcinus]

[[
Well, you don't have to go to such an extreme as to kill him off, necessarily.

Maybe he just gets knocked out or something and then Aedris just grabs you and leaves.

I understand your feelings on this, however, and leave you to decide.
]]

[Damon Howe]

Orcinus, on 23 March 2012 - 03:28 PM, said:

[[
Well, you don't have to go to such an extreme as to kill him off, necessarily.

Maybe he just gets knocked out or something and then Aedris just grabs you and leaves.

I understand your feelings on this, however, and leave you to decide.
]]

[[QFT. You can be knocked out of the fight without dieing you know.

Though if you do bite it, Expect a certain Jenner to attempt to take down an Overlord from the inside...now that'd be a sight wouldn't it?]]

[[Edit: @Guardian: I realize that yes, a distraction will buy time...and I thank you for it. ]]

Edited by Damon Howe, 23 March 2012 - 05:51 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Listless Nomad, on 23 March 2012 - 01:49 PM, said:

[[I think I'm going to kill off my character. I don't have time to contribute to this story any more unfortunately. I'm way too far behind and it's gotten way too complex. I don't want others dependent on my contributions. Sorry everyone.]]

[[Was kinda thinking about my character getting badly injured and getting removed from play too. Things IMO, and I'm sorry if I step on any toes by saying this, but I think things have gotten goofy. (I'm putting it nicely) And it doesn't help that I work 60+ hours a week now, you kinda fall behind and get left behind then.]].

[guardian wolf]

[[Dammit, was just getting used to the possibility of a political shitstorm, inside a shitstorm, oh well. Nice RPing with you Nomad, see ya. @Sloth, I think I might want to have Nathan bring his Marauder along with me, as I'm headed back to my, "depot" if you will. It was a hidden location where Draco, and Phiro stashed their gear, mechs, etc. and Draco might want to have a look at that leg. If it's ok with you.]]

[Charles Martel]

"Copy that, heading locked in.", Charles replied, "And see if you can direct some suitable help to that FFR Grand Dragon that's engaged against that Atlas. I took down the Atlas's assault lance's Jager, but tangling with Hunchbacks and an Atlas are way out of my LAM's league."


He finished the pouch of ersatz-coffee, vowing to never make the mistake of drinking another. So far he has yet to manage to keep that vow in combat since 3031.

[Grafvitnir]

[[Yeah, I'm back to life at this point, and I've been looking for a way to jump back in, but with assault 'Mechs running around everywhere and battleships in orbit the plot seems to have been lost a bit. Gotta concur with Thom and Nomad on that. I still quite want to see what happens with Azman, find out who the hell the Dalians are anyways (Old Sisgurd is waiting patiently), and wrap up many other leads, but it would take a pretty major re-write of the background material to accommodate some of the recent developments / likely futures with the forces that have been engaged.
Depending on how things progress here I may be starting another RP soonish. Next time it'll probably be strictly non-combat, keep it a little more conversational.

I'll make a point of checking here often, and I'll jump back in if it seems like a good idea.]]

Edited by Grafvitnir, 24 March 2012 - 09:43 AM.

[Nor Azman]

[[Hello everyone. Um, if I can ask a favour from everyone. That you all may wait for my upcoming post. Have an idea to tie everyone together. um, at least 6 hours from now. (am still at work and wont clock out for a few). Need time to get back home and start typing. I promise it will be good. May even be my best. Beg everyone's patience.

*sings softly* When I was just a little girl, I ask my mother what will I be....

]]

Edited by Nor Azman, 24 March 2012 - 05:45 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Nor Azman, on 24 March 2012 - 02:09 PM, said:

[[Hello everyone. Um, if I can ask a favour from everyone. That you all may wait for my upcoming post. Have an idea to tie everyone together. um, at least 6 hours from now. (am still at work and wont clock out for a few). Need time to get back home and start typing. I promise it will be good. May even be my best. Beg everyone's patience.

*sings softly* When I was just a little girl, I ask my mother what will I be....]]

[[If anyone could do it it's you Az. And no worries, your posts are always good. I'm still trying to figure out what's next for Thom. But I must say that I want him to see the Dragon beating the Atlas like a pinata.]]

[guardian wolf]

[[Well Graf, where in the hell are you, as I could direct you to follow Draco out to the hidden "depot", that's pretty much where I am trying to get everyone so we can finally plan and not have this warzone be so friggin hectic, also waiting for Lina to give out orders to Phiro, as she still has that Centurion ASF. As for Damon, ****, I guess I could do another flyby, but this time, tell me how long you need and what kind of diversion, as I still think that last one would have bought you enough time to get the hell out... jk buddy, don't get pissed, but I digress. As for Azman, I have faith. I will try to get Nathan, Lina, Graaf, Damon, Orc, and (hopefully) Nomad back to Draco's "depot", (more politically correct term would be hidden supply cache, old habits die hard) so we can do a little dialog, and then gear up to retake the city. Then Draco has to put up some C-Bills to rebuild the Raven, as, it was (kinda, well, yes and no) his fault.]]

[Thom Frankfurt]

[[I couldn't help but notice that nobody seems to remember little ole' Thom. You guys forget about me?]]

[guardian wolf]

[[Sorry, I was just trying to get a quick post in. I don't know if you'll be able to regroup with us though, as you are... wait, oh, never mind, you can regroup with Lina, and then from there, Phiro could escort you guys home. Also Damon, you should try to link up with them as well.]]

[Damon Howe]

[[Well, Damon's right screwed at this point...I don't see him getting out...but he may be able to stall long enough for someone to reach him...]]

Damn...

Though Damon knew his way around a keyboard, apparently having at least 30 plus techs able to do the same against you had finally caught up with him. Damon had to maintain a steady beam connection to ensure that the virus worked correctly and didn't get destroyed, lest his plan come apart. He had gained access to several other functions within the Overlord Dropship, though the most important, 'Life Support', didn't really matter on a hospitable planet surface. Still, ejecting a few lifeboats might cause a significant distraction, but he had no time for that...

A few more enemies had moved into the area, most of them tanks and a pair of light mechs, one a Raven, apparently searching him out. The Assault lance kept close to his neighborhood, and it seemed their patrols passed by a little closer each time. As he watched a patrolling Zeus pass within 150m of his building, a yellow light suddenly flickered to life on his console.

2 minutes...well, I can think of worse ways to go...

[Nor Azman]

[[a final dance begins…]]

Of course Azman was dead, as he lifted his eyelids ever so slightly, watching the events unfold. The Centurion which wore the colours of the Robinson Rangers lay unmoving. The self-destruct explosion of the Delian Guard Thug had knocked down the noble warrior of steel, whether permanently Azman could not tell. The Grand Dragon, wearing the colours of the Skjaldborg mercenary unit, critically damaged itself, stood bravely to defend its fallen comrade. The Grand Dragon’s weapons were damaged, held only Vera’s amputated HMG arm to fend off and distract the Grinning Death of the Atlas. If only to buy time. Everything moved with the forgone conclusion of a dance. Even the sudden appearance of an ecchi image of a japanese school girl on the computer screens could not hold sway. The Atlas loomed before the unmoving Centurion and heavily damaged Grand Dragon, an inevitable doom.

Then in those last moments, hope came. A little VTOL flew into the face of Death and spat. The little VTOL flew, firing this only weapon, its medium laser, at the grinning face of the Atlas, without fear. The Atlas seemed more surprised then hurt. It swung its massive arms as if to swat the little fearless firefly. It was all the distraction that was needed.

Out from hiding, three battlemechs, two Centurions and a Jenner, bearing the proud colours of House Davion, came out from different positions and fired all their weapons, alpha strike, to all the vulnerable points that were known to be at the Atlas-class battlemech. That hurt the Atlas. The Delian Guard Atlas fired back with its weapons – its AC20 autocannon, its LRM 20 missiles, its SRM 6 missiles and its 4 medium lasers. The three House Davion battlemechs showed the hallmarks of comrades having served long with one another. They covered each other and stood their ground, determined. The Delian Guard Atlas moved menacingly forward…

From the heavens, an LAM swoop down, the colours of House Kurita gleamed in the sun. Like an avenging hawk, the LAM fired its weapons, precise, at the shoulders and back of the Delian Guard Atlas. The Delian Guard Atlas stumbled forward…and saw Rundvik’s Defenders charging to meet it…

A reinforced lance bearing the colours of the Vulkaneers and the Rogue's Armoured Irregulars – a Marauder, a Rifleman, a Jagermech, a Catapult and an Urbanmech strode forward. Way, way in front of them drove a suicidal hovercraft. At their back, was the frame of a 90 tons Devastator. The new arrivals fired their weapons in unison at the Delain Guard Atlas.

The tide had turned. The Atlas stood undeterred and surveyed its dominion. A god of war does not run. The Delian Guard Atlas marched forward, in slow measured steps, its face of a grinning skull, laughing at its own destruction. The Atlas shot its weapons and was shot back 10 fold. The dance was coming to an end. The deathblow came from the Vulkaneers’ Urbanmech as it jumped onto a building.

Urbie…is that you?

The Urbanmech shot its AC20 autocannon at the Delian Guard Atlas straight through its heart.

A metallic death cry shook the entire city, and the Delian Guard Atlas fell, its personal insignia – an angry gorilla lifting a barrel over its head, fell with it.

There was only thunderous silence. The firing had stopped. Then, strangely, as if to celebrate the victory, music cut through the statics of the comms channel…. the music of Heavy Metal!

A voice of an angel gave a rally cry.

Lina Thoren, on 21 March 2012 - 12:39 AM, said:

[i]'Withdraw from Rundvik, regroup outside of town, opposite side incoming regiment! [i/]

Edited by Nor Azman, 26 March 2012 - 11:19 PM.

[Nor Azman]

Azman watched stoically as he witnessed a god being slain. The Atlas fell to the earth. A titan dead. The honour guards Hunchbacks started their withdrawal with Delian Guard armours and infantry to the main body of the Delian Guards Assault Group, visibly shaken at the demise of their Pillar. The centre of the Delian Guards Assault Group was routed. Azman clicked his teeth. The odds of success of an impromptu force cobbled together with no other strategy then to stubbornly resist against an opposition of professional soldiers who were planned and organized and had battlefield initiative, momentum and surprise on their side… Though it illustrates profoundly the battle prowess of Rundvik’s defenders, again Azman calculated the odds… and admitted defeat. Such is the dice of battle. Its results can never be foreseen. Bishamon had spoken. The outcome was clear.

Still there was work to be done. Though the assault battlemech lay in ruins, the mech pilot of the Atlas had survived, had left its cockpit and was fleeing the scene. Azman had to make a decision. The man was no doubt a high ranking officer in the Delian Guards mercenary unit, privy to the highest confidential information with regards to the Operation. His capture would be vital if not key. Azman clicked his teeth. He had to make a decision. Azman hated, hated to work in the open. Azman took the toy dinosaur at the control console back into his pockets. Then he pressed his fingers to his lips and placed them for a moment or two on the cockpit controls, a lingering kiss to Vera.

Blessed be my battlemech.

We stand amidst the plains of war.

Alone together before that final door.

Through veils of fire where the long night brings

To a place of silence where the Crow does sings

Passed the scenes and scenes of endless hate

And all we have are comrades dead

Blessed be my battlemech.

We stand amidst the plains of war.

Azman left Vera and dropped to the ground. His eyes were cold. He gave chase to the man who once piloted an Atlas, now only a man. However the mech pilot ran like a sprinter who was running for his life. And in truth he was both. As good at running as Azman was, he knew he could never catch up. The Delian Guard officer was about to turn a corner… Azman drew out his relic six-shot revolver from his side holster and shot the fleeing man in the back.

Though time was pressing and forces were closing in on both sides, Azman forced himself to slow down, to walk in a measured pace. Azman relaxed his shoulders, focusing his chi at his dantien, the centre of the human body. It was important to allow time for both the Delian Guard officer and himself to collect their thoughts. The occasion warranted it. Azman drew out his wakizashi long dagger.

You and your target are one and the same.

You breathe the same air.

You feel the same fear, the same pain.

Your target’s strengths are yours, your target weakness are yours.

You and your target are one and the same.

The Delian Guard Officer had crawled away, leaving a trail of blood. He had managed to reach the nearest wall and clawed his way, brick by brick to get on his feet. Azman stood behind, quietly. It was important for a mechwarrior to be on his feet, at the end.

Of course, the Delian Guard officer would turn screaming. Of course, the Delian Guard officer would be armed, in this instance a small viroblade. Azman knew of the coming attack because he and the Delian Guard officer was one and the same.

At the last possible moment, Azman took a step back. Just enough. The viroblade’s shearing edge nicked Azman’s left cheek. However Azman’s sudden move caught the Delian Guard officer by surprise, he overreached himself, stumbled forward, and plunged stomach first onto a naked dagger that was simply held in place as if wating…

In the earth that was, ancient Terra, defeated war leaders would throw themselves onto their own blades to atone for their failures. The successes up till now of Rundvik’s defenders resoundingly displayed the battle skills of the defenders, but it also demonstrated the depths of the Delian Guards' incompetence thus far. Their employers will not forget nor were they forgiving. This was a piece of mercy.

"It is a good death", Azman assured the Delian Guard officer, whispering in the man's ear, as Azman firmly pushed the Delian Guard officer against the wall, pressing the dagger deeper into the man's gut. The poison acting quickly. The Delian Guard officer, mechwarrior of an Atlas, continued to struggle, clutching at Azman's clothes as he slid to the ground. The dying man looked up at his killer's face, his killer's eyes...and saw nothing.

Azman knelt before the dead Delian Guard officer, thoughtful. Here died a believer. An actual mercenary who believed in fighting for a better world. Azman searched the man's dead face for answers... All dead looked the same. Azman did not wipe his dagger clean against the dead man's cooling vest. Instead Azman stained the helm of his not-so-clean brown coat before sheathing his dagger, again concealed. For an odd reason, as a gesture, Azman returned the Delian Guard officer's dropped viroblade back to the man's still warm hands. Mechwarrior to Mechwarrior. Mercenary to Mercenary. Dead to Dead. Jubal's eyes remained staring at Azman, accusingly. Azman closed Jubal's eyes and with them, the secrets they held.

Standing as if he had all the time in the 'verse, Azman searched his pockets and took out an old pocket watch, an item more scratches and dents that told of time. It was past one hour from the maximum time allocated for the mission. Azman pulled out a small flare gun that was issued in the beginning. Azman pointed to the sky and pulled the trigger. A single trail of prosperous white ascended skywards. Then, as if on que, another trail of prosperous white rose from elsewhere in the city. Then another. Then another. Like white stars rising in daylight. Azman counted.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... surely that should be enough, shouldnt it?

The communication device plugged into Azman's ear, exquisitely made of star league era sophistication, powerful enough to cut through any electronic jamming, began to transmit its first and only message.

Anyone listening in would only listen in to people talking about ducks. But the code was understood.

"All Delian Guard leaders and Ghost Contracts. All Delian Guard leaders and Ghost Contracts. Primary mission objectives have been completed. Primary mission objectives have been completed. All elements are advised to proceed on their own discretion. The struggle shall be worth it in the end."

Azman snorted.

The struggle shall be worth it in the end...

Azman looked around the ruins of Rundvik.

When this is all over, there shall be hill-sized funeral pyres to burn the dead.

Azman spit.

The Great Houses and their Great Game.

Azman spit.

Azman paused then to calculate the situation. The Delian Guards have been given two black eyes and some broken ribs. But the Delian Guards was still a force to be reckoned with. Their First was dead but their Second will take charge. She should be leading the brunt of the Delian Guards Assault Group to envelope the Rundvik defenders right about now. If Azman remembered the Second correctly, she was homicidal and unpredictable. (as all women are deep inside). Whether the Second would lead the rouge mercenary group to their secondary missions (the target was still a worthy prize), or just sack Rundvik out of revenge, or lead the Delian Guards back to their dropships, Azman could not be certain. (You can never be certain with women really) All other Ghost Contracts would be fading from the city. So too will Azman.

Azman turn and fled. Despite himself, Azman looked back at the man he just killed... and stopped. Light seemed to grace the man's dead face.... The man wore a face of serenity.

Something broke inside Azman. It surged from deep within Azman to rage through to Azman's face. Azman's features contorted and twisted... to a face of absolute anger...and madness.

"JUST BECAUSE YOU DIED FOR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN DOES NOT MAKE YOU BETTER THEN ME!!!"

Azman screamed.

The corpse did not reply. The dead man was at peace. Azman was beside himself. Screaming, Azman pulled out his revolver and began shooting at the corpse, again and again and again and again and again. Even when the bullets were spent, Azman kept pulling the trigger, his eyes mad, saliva and froth dripping from his mouth.

From somewhere deep within the abyss, Azman fought desperately for control. Pushing against the memories...the screamings... the faces...the voices... to the Black...

Very calmly, Azman returned the spent revolver back to its side holster. Again his face was empty, a slight smile ever playing on his lips.

There is nothing left to see.

Azman was lost, and ran and ran.



[[And with that… *claps at all the players,honouring, bows and exits*


RL has it always does demands of our time without question. I could see my time getting lesser and would be fizzling out. Kinda owe it to character Azman to give him a proper bow and exit. As was stated in the beginning, character Azman is a bit of a j3rk.


Um, been pulling double shifts lately. Brain’s fired and am floating on fading caffeine. Apologizes for any mistypes.

Ps. Sloth, you really rping too many characters, hard to type them all. Oooh maybe I can say they are the ‘5 Paths of Sloth’ *geeky snort*

Pps Fun Facts. I am from Singapore. SINGAPURA baby! *plants singapore’s flag* Ha!

To everyone and the Windborne Raven, Thank you.

Azman’s Fairwell.



To us mercs – kin and damned alike

]]

Edited by Nor Azman, 24 March 2012 - 08:42 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

[[*Gives a hearty clap.* Very nice Az. wow. Singapore eh? would never have guessed it.]]

[Orcinus]

The Atlas stopped turning, its attention shifted onto something ahead of it. Then the Atlas shook as it was assaulted from the front. Unfazed, the 100-ton behemoth advanced as medium pulse lasers continued to peck away at its back.

The Grand Dragon took a step back as an LAM—in DCMS colors of all things!—swooped in to make a pass.

The Atlas continued its march forward. However, its progress slowed as a succession of volleys ploughed into it. It seemed inevitable when the ‘mech finally fell, revealing the eight battlemechs that had arrived onto the scene.

The waves of fatigue swept in, sudden and merciless. His body stiffened, then went limp. His breaths ran ragged. His vision blurred.

It didn’t blur enough, however, to allow a figure running past his ‘mech to escape his attention.

He reached over to one of the monitors on his dashboard and switched to the rear camera display.

Judging by the direction of his running, the first figure appeared to be the Atlas’ pilot. The second figure that appeared was a complete unknown—a ghost.

The ghost shot the pilot and then closed on its fallen prey.

He saw the Hunchback pilot—resignation.

Wait…!

The pilot swung at the ghost, but missed and stumbled into something that glinted in its arm.

He saw the Flashman pilot—terror.

What…?

The pilot struggled briefly before finally slumping to the ground.

He saw the Thug pilot—anguish.

Why…?

The ghost paused to pay final respects. It fired a flare into the sky. It spat twice. It yelled in defiance.

His hand reached for the monitor as it ran off, leaving the view range of the camera.

Who…?

[[
To a fellow merc. A fellow j3rk. A fellow warrior.

*bows*
Perhaps had our characters met, maybe we could've gotten along famously.
]]