6 replies to this topic

[DowncastAcorn]

You: A streak commando with a lust for danger and a lot of backup

Me: A foolhardy dreamer with a head full of ideas and two SRM6s full of desperation

It was Thanksgiving day, November 22, 2012, about 10:45 est. Forest Colony. The fighting was getting good. Your boys had met mine round the corner of F7 and things had started heating up. I was first to see them coming, and tapped R to get as many spot assists as I could before high-tailing it out of there; you and me both know how well a commando does round mechs like that. I'd doubled back and started running through the cave at F8, same as I always do. I never know what I'll find hiding in that cave. Sometimes there's nothing there, sometimes there's three atlases and a streak-cat waiting for whatever poor sucker stumbles through. What can I say, the not-knowing excites me.

I found the cave clear as a whistle and emptier than the book I write my kills in; you know how it is. The sunlight on the other side touched face, almost friendly, as I stepped out,and when I went to make the turn the turn I glanced back into that cave; it was almost funny, the way the sunlight fell through the trees made the cave's emptiness stand out to me in the most familiar way. I guess that means I've been doing this to long, but I don't know. It's easy to fall into a routine when you're the smallest thing on the battlefield, makes things easier, more bearable. You know how it is.

I swung around the mountain and headed down towards F7 to score some easy rear-armor hits, same as I always do. Maybe I could soften some of them up a bit, maybe I could get some heavy chasing squirrels while my lancemates dealt with the rest of your friends. I always get cored in the end but maybe, just maybe, I could make a big enough mark on the battlefield to squeak us by with a win. Wishful thinking, I know, but making a mark's nice when you don't get to do it that often... you know how it is. From the sound of things it was already getting rough down there; as I drew closer the buzz of lasers and the sound of missiles was the only thing I could hear. I love that feeling you get in the middle of a firefight, there's so much going on around you you just can't take it all in, so the chaos almost forces your head into a kind of peaceful focus, you do one thing after another, and maybe you come out of it alive and maybe you don't, but however things happen you did what you did. You know how it is.

I had already laid eyes on one of your friends, a Catapult taking shelter behind a small hill, its rear armor glistening in the sunlight. Throttle up, trigger-finger itching, I ran forward to make my move. I got close too, Your friend was just sitting there, spitting LRMs at some unseen lancemate; some "JUDGEDREDD33" or "420MCHSLYER69" or, worst of them all, "Oppa Gundam Style." The point wasn't to protect my teammates; being a pugger, I cared for them just about as much as they cared for me. No, the point was to make my mark. I got close enough to see the hot-air haze from the heatsinks, close enough that every nerve in my body was telling me to click, and to click for all I was worth.

But then I wouldn't

But then I couldn't

But then I saw you

You were just standing there, in the middle of the crossroads, looking like some lost pugger in a trial 1B. But you weren't just some pugger, there was something different about you, something alluring. I watched you, safe in the knowledge that your catapult friend wouldn't turn around (Funny, isn't it? The way they never do?), and I was in awe. The way you moved: slowly, but with purpose, as if you knew exactly where you needed to be; The way the streak exhaust sillhouetted you in brief bursts of divine radiance as the missiles twisted and turned their way towards their target, leaving heavy trails of lazy smoke in their wake. I swear to god in the few seconds I'd watched you it felt like I'd known you for a lifetime; you were a daredevil, a risk-taker, someone not afraid to live on the edge of what sanity and reason called "safe." But you were good at it too; You knew exacly how to push yourself just far enough that things got dangerous, but still savvy enough to know when to run. It was intoxicating, the way you moved with such confidence, such grace, I'd never seen a commando so skilled before. I thought, I prayed, that I had finally met someone who would understand. I knew then I had to get to know you, if it was the last thing I did I HAD to make you notice me.

A medium laser was my introduction, shot high, and to the left; a shotgun blast of SRMs served as the start of our relationship. You squeezed off a final streak before turning to face me, and when we locked lines-of-sight I felt my heart skip a beat. I was interested in you, the way you deftly dodged into cover and over hills, making the best of each vantage point, and if I don't decieve myself I think you were interested in me; how I led my SRMs so perfectly to meet you in your path, how my laser burned with the full intensity of my desire. We circled eachother for what was maybe three seconds or so, but it felt like hours to me, dancing back and forth on a private stage. I felt a connection, something I've only felt before once in my life. You don't get that feeling with Jenners, high-and-mighty ******. They were born on third base and thought they hit a triple. But you... I couldn't contain myself any longer. I dented the T key as I forced it down and shouted, so that all could hear, "COMMANDUEL." All caps.

I wanted to stay there forever with you, just circling back and forth, playing hide-and-seek with the hills, your streaks and my SRMs and nothing else in the world. You'd let me taste it for but a brief second, and my fool heart thought it had been granted eternity. Unfortunately for me these things never last. Unfortunately for me, I'd sized you up all too well. You were just too good for that. You were just too clever, and when the opportunity presented itself, you ran; exactly like you should have. My heart was in shock at this paradise lost, and like any foolhardy dreamer I gave chase, unable to imagine life any other way. By the time you made it to the beach the morbid realization of my own failure, of my own brash stupidity, had washed over me. A split second later and an autocannon shell all but erased those worries, tossing my mech aside like so much wasted time. I spent the rest of the match watching my two teammates: Catapults, both, take the cap for the victory. A small consolation. I didn't even know your pilot name.

You're still out there, somewhere, hopping between hills, shooting off streaks the way you do. I wish you well, I really do; it's hard out there for a commando, I'm not going to begrudge another who lives the lifestyle. The only reason I write this is out of some foolish hope that maybe, by some stretch of luck, this'll get to you. Then, maybe, you'll feel just a little bit of guilt when you understand just what you did to me. That probably won't happen though... you're just too good for that.

[dal10]

^I loled

[darqsyde]

As a fellow COM jockey, I know the feeling.
Well put, brother, well put.

and..."Real men go Commando!"

[Oni Storm]

Big KUDDOS to you sir. Very nicely done.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Loved it! Really liked the writing style.

[DowncastAcorn]

Heh, thanks for the kind words guys! I don't quite know what inspired me to write this, it was a match that just really stood out in my head and I kind of wanted to record it, with a few revisions in favor of the ridiculous and dramatic, of course.

[Volume]

Brought a tear to my eye. The game really needs something like a button that shows pilots you've recently played with, or competitors from the previous match, just so you can add friends easier, or at least some optional post-game chat for situations like this. I had a very wonderful experience kind of like this in the Forest Colony cave a few weeks ago and I'll probably never experience it again.