The Black Arrows

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Grunt213
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Post by Grunt213 » Thu Aug 27, 2009 1:31 pm

Peter was fuming mad. That psycho Po had cut him off at the exit bay door. And if that wasn't bad enough, he screamed out "YEEHAW!!" at the top of his lungs on an open comm channel, and then proceeded to honk the horn on his tank, which blared out the time honored tune of 'Dixie.' Pete didn't even know that tanks had horns, let alone novelty ones. Who knew what other surprises that old tanker has in store for him. He really needed to have a long talk with Po, about a lot of things.

His company formed up in a staggered formation, spread out half cruising down some beat up dirt road, the other half churning up some locals grain fields. There was a two story farmstead looming up on the left. Peter toyed with the idea of blasting one of the Argo mechs parked down by the barn, but decided against it. This was a raid, and they weren't getting paid to mess with some poor farmer's livelihood.

Peter was finally starting to cool off, and the moment of road rage was beginning to subside. His mind started to wander from strangling Po, to contemplating the life of a farmer. It must be pretty unpleasant, he thought, toiling in the dirt, being at the mercy of the elements, waiting for some crops that may or may not even grow. He almost pitied the man but if it weren't for people like him life in the Inner Sphere wouldn't be possible.

The shrill cry of a hard weapons lock snapped him out of his reflections. Missiles were raining down on him, leaving only their con tails as signs of their passage, most missed and flew past him, or impacted on the rain softened soil around him, sending huge clods of dirt skyward. A group slammed against his War hammer's torso, galvanising the armor there in a fiery explosion.

"You son of a *****!" Peter exclaimed as he wrenched his torso to the side and settled his sights on the first thing he saw, a Commando bursting out of the woodwork, trying desperately to close the distance to bring it's short ranged missiles into optimum range. It let loose with all of it's guns as it crested the ditch along side of the road. Missiles flew wide impacting somewhere far behind him, but it's medium laser hit, boiling armor off his left torso.

He settled his targeting reticule right over the Commando's center of mass, the cross hairs pulsed a gold color and he mashed his fingers down on the the triggers. Twin particle beams slammed into the 25 toner's chest just meters apart, man made lightning both slagging and pulverising it's torso. The short ranged missiles connected a split second later, four warheads plowed into the already much mutilated torso, sending globs of half melted metal shooting out from the explosions and into the night. The Commando lurched violently to the side, then fell on its face.

A wave of heat washed over Peter, making him gasp for air. The mech's heat sinks were struggling to dissipate the waste heat from the heavy energy weapons. He chanced a glance at his wire framed damage display, all was green except for a splotch of orange over his left torso. He was fine for the moment.

He dared a look at his tactical display. They were surrounded by an equal size force of armor and mechs, which were emerging from the woods and crashing out of the back side of the barn. There was even a reinforced lance or armor roaring down the road from around the bend. He had led them right into a trap.

"This isn't good." Pete tore his eyes away from the tact display just in time to see Marvin Brown's Wyvern fall crashing to the ground, with a huge abyss across its back were armor used to be.

"Po!" He yelled into his mic, "You better get whatever's sporting that monster cannon off my ass, or your gonna end up in charge!"

He looked up from the wreckage just in time to see the rest of the Commando's lance mates emerging from the woods. Peter felt like every gun in the world was pointing at him at that moment.

"Woof. Woof. Woof." Po was barking like a dog on the Comm.


"What the Hell?" Thought Peter incredulously.
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Post by Grunt213 » Fri Aug 28, 2009 2:06 am

Po was having a blast, he wish he could see the lieutenant's face when he barked. He chuckled.

"Hopefully that will liven up the mood." He thought jovially.

"Hey Tony." he called his driver on the comm.

"Make for that barn, and step on it, we gotta save the boss' ass."

With that, the Zhukov lurched forward with a sudden burst of speed. Po changed the channel on the comm to that of the frequency shared with the rest of his lance.

"On me." he simply stated. The four tanks made a 45 degree turn and started a mad race for the barn. He took a look back to where the mechs were blasting away at each other. Gem colored lasers split the night, cutting through armor like a hot scalpel through butter, auto cannon roared sending their deadly rounds downrange, missiles flew from both sides like arrows of old, their detonations wreathing enemies with shrapnel and flame. He could just make out a 40 ton Whitworth, standing on the outskirts of the tree break firing away with its long ranged missiles. It was highlighted by the back blast of it's own missiles as they screamed off to ram into the Scotty's Blackjack. Lightning flashed, further highlighting it. It was on the very edge of long range, but Po thought, "Why not?"

"Gunther, blast that Worthless son of a *****."

"Yes Sir!" beamed the young tanker. Swinging the turret around.

Twin Sarlon type 10 auto cannons added their own roar to the cacophony of the night. One slammed squarely into the long ranged missile toting mech's center torso while the other hammered away at the armor over it's right torso mounted launcher. The mech staggered back into the trees, but quickly regained it's balance.

Po laughed hysterically, He loved this tank!
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Post by BeoWolf » Tue Sep 01, 2009 3:08 pm

Nice story so far, keep it up. I paricularly luv the old tank commander Po. :lol:
Stay true to the dream of the Kerensky's, now and always.

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Post by Grunt213 » Wed Sep 02, 2009 7:34 am

BeoWolf wrote:Nice story so far, keep it up. I paricularly luv the old tank commander Po. :lol:
Thank you very much.

I'll do my best to post more tonight when I go home.

Till then,

James

Quick question. Who is everyone's fave character so far?
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Post by Grunt213 » Thu Sep 03, 2009 7:43 am

Peter set his sights on his newest opponent, a Javelin rocketing through the sky on a plume of ionized flames, it looked like it was trying to come crashing down on him, but some quick backpedaling had it come to settle down in front of him instead. He looked out his cockpit's canopy at the Javelin's pilot and sneered at the audacious mech pilot who tried the dreaded 'death from above' maneuver on him. And he was awarded with the finger.

"Why you little.." Peter growled angrily

The Javelin launched its short ranged missiles point blank into his mech. Shrapnel flew as the warheads drummed away at the War hammer's chest. Peter retaliated with his own lasers and missiles. The medium lasers boiled away at the armor covering the militia mechs chest in a metal steam, but the missiles did the real devastation, peppering once pristine armor on the arms and legs, one warhead found a weak spot on the torso armor and detonated against the vital components inside. The last very last missile sputtered through the fiery explosions wreathing the mech and slammed into the Javelin's head, shearing off the satellite dish mounted there.

The mech wobbled for a second as if drunk, but miraculously stood upright. The Javelin seemed to shake with anger, then launched itself forward with a punch that rang out across the battlefield with a crunching clang of metal on metal against Pete's torso armor.

"Oh no you didn't!" Pete launched his own physical attack, a savage kick which caved in the 'Hammer's foot, but snapped the Javelins left leg off at the knee. The limb skittered along the ground before finally come to rest somewhere in darkness of the underbrush. The Javelin toppled over onto it's side with loud crash, armor crumpled and supports snapped under the mechs mass, the reactor jarred loose from one of its mountings to bleed waste heat into the pilot compartment

Peter had no time to take satisfaction from mauling the Javelin. He was too busy, he had people shooting at him. A 50 ton Hunchback was lumbering his way. He threw his throttle into full reverse, but the Hunchback was gaining on him. He feel his enemies sights on him, he was well within range for the large bore auto cannon mounted in the boxy launcher which gave the mech it's name. He heard the screech of a target lock. He closed his eyes. This is the end. Peter thought morbidly, though it never came, the shot fell short and wide, chewing up a furrow in the dirt all the way up to the War Hammer.

Peter opened an eyes and smiled at his good fortune. Despite loosing some more armor to a medium laser he was alright, and kept back pedaling and fired sparingly at the approaching mech. One medium laser burned off armor on the Hunchbacks torso while the other cut a jagged scar across it's face. Missiles connected next, pockmarking the militia mech's torso while one missile sputtered lazily through it's brothers explosions and detonated against the ferro glass canopy protecting the Mechwarrior inside.

The Hunchback shuttered for a moment and resumed its charge.

Missiles slammed into the War Hammer peppering it's arms and legs, but the mangled armor still held. Peter was lining up another barrage on the Hunchback, taking a quick glance following the missile's con tails to see where they came from, he couldn't believe his eyes. The Javelin refusing to lay out the rest of the fight like a good boy, was sitting upright blasting away at Peter with it's short ranged missiles with grim determination.

"This ends now!!" Peter stated matter of factly.

Splitting his fire between two foes that wanted him dead indeed was a risky move, but he felt confident in his abilities.

He hastily lined up a shot on the stump legged mech, the crackling azure beam from the particle projection cannon ate away at the Javelin's innards piercing it's fusion powered heart and blowing out it's back. Explosive bolts fired, splitting the top of the militia mechs head and sent the audacious pilot's ejection seat rocketing out on a pillar of flame.

Dividing his shots cost him as one medium laser blast shot over the Hbacks's 'normal' shoulder. Luck was on his side though as his missiles connected. They detonated randomly across pristine arm armor scuffing out the Capellan March Militia symbol there, a single warhead slammed into the mech's head shattering the little armor covering the cockpit. The Hunchback swayed then came crashing down with a grace that only 50 tons of upright metal could muster, it settled face down in the mud and showed no signs of getting up. Not taking any chaces, and not wanting a repeat of the earlier incident with the Javelin being down, but deffinatly not out. Peter strolled his 'Hammer up and stomped down on the back of the slumbering Hunchback.

That should keep it pinned, he thought.

Indeed it wasn't going anywhere soon.
Last edited by Grunt213 on Thu Sep 03, 2009 9:49 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Rayo Azul
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Post by Rayo Azul » Thu Sep 03, 2009 8:33 am

This is good stuff and I really like the detail :wink:

Po is definitely my fave character at the moment. Can't wait to see what craziness he gets up to next :twisted:

Cheers

Rayo

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Post by Grunt213 » Thu Sep 03, 2009 9:46 am

Rayo Azul wrote:This is good stuff and I really like the detail :wink:

Po is definitely my fave character at the moment. Can't wait to see what craziness he gets up to next :twisted:

Cheers

Rayo
I'm glad you like.

I'm not gonna spoil anything. But, I had a blast writing the next part with him in it. :twisted:

That fool is CRAZY!!
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Post by BeoWolf » Fri Sep 04, 2009 12:06 pm

So when are you posting the next part?
Stay true to the dream of the Kerensky's, now and always.

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Post by Grunt213 » Fri Sep 04, 2009 1:55 pm

Tracks churned up muddy rooster tails of plant matter as the tank rumbled across the farmland. The Zhukov reached a fence and effortlessly smashed through to the other side. Onward it raced, now over hard packed earth and crashed through the closed double doors of the barn. The sight that greeted Po made him stop his off key rendition of "She'll be coming around the mountain, when she comes" and hoot with excitement. There on the far side of the barn through the sea of startled farm animals and confused rifle infantry were two Rommel tanks. And he had them both by the ass.

Over the roar of the engine and splintering wood you could make out Po's blood curdling cry of "Charge!" Through the barn the Zhukov raced at breakneck speed, guns a blazing. Auto cannon rounds chiseled away at the first Rommel's side, the white hot shells ricocheted off the thick slabs of armor and a sailed crazily in all directions. Short ranged missiles plowed into the tank, wreathing it in fiery red explosions A track got blown and Po giggled at the helpless tanks plight while bracing himself for the bone jarring impact.

The 75 Zhukov rammed into the Rommel at flank speed. The tank connected with the immobile tank with enough force to replicate the effects of a hover truck getting T boned by a freight train. The effects were quite devastating. Armor crumpled, supports snapped, and the Rommel's structural frame which was usually pretty sound, was bent as an awkward angle.

Po had stars swimming before his eyes and his head rang from where his little stereo that was mounted to the bulkhead snapped free of it's mounting and clipped him in the head. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and felt blood oozing from his nose and felt tooth chips grinding between his molars.

Great, got to go see the dentist, again. Po thought bitterly.

He snorted and spat out a bloody loogie onto the floorboard. He looked through his periscope and surveyed the havoc he had wrought. The Rommel lay a few meters away, with smoke billowing out of the huge rent his ramming has caused, it's surviving crew members were scrambling out of the it's smoking hatches and running for the lives into the relative safety of the night.

"HA!" Po shouted triumphantly.

He swung his periscope around and surveyed his lance's progress with the other Rommel. And was surprised to find them making such short work of the heavy tank. The two Po heavy tanks and the Short Ranged Missile carrier were combining their fire in unholy ways their designers never could have even imagined.

The two Po's auto cannon hammered away at the Rommel's armor, while the SRM carrier's missiles blasted away at the tank in an ever enlarging cloud of explosions. Po watched awe struck by the destructive display. Though the Rommel gallantly fought on, tracks shredded, auto cannon roaring defiantly at it's antagonist. It was doomed. The ammo explosion was a terrifying thing of beauty, how it could split the night sky as if mocking the sun, and send the multi ton turret flying into the air.

The charred wreckage was not a thing of beauty, just the skeletal frame of a once might war machine, now turned funeral pyre.

Spots swam in front of Po's vision, he watched the whole thing, right up to the bloody explosion. A nasty taste filled his mouth, but it wasn't from the blood that he would periodically would snort then hack.

"Nobody, not even Fed-rat's deserve to die like that." he whispered to himself.

"Tony." he called his driver on the radio. "Lets get out of here, it looks like there's a nice little party down by the bend." referring to the tank battle ensuing there.

With that the Zhukov turned and started lumbering off to the next fight. Po changed radio channels again to the one shared with his lance. "On me." he said dryly. The rest of the lance quickly filled in behind Po's tank and the started another mad race off to the carnage.
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Post by Grunt213 » Mon Sep 07, 2009 8:53 am

It's fire season here in California. The blazes raging in Los Angeles is making the already unheathful air here worse. Family has been sick since Wensday, but we're getting better. Hopefully I'll get a chance to write soon.
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Post by Rayo Azul » Mon Sep 07, 2009 4:40 pm

KNow the feeling. I'm in Southern Spain, 38-40 degrees centigrade and we had a bush fire on the weekend about one klick from our house. Spent Saturday helping my mate save his house as the fire trucks got delayed. The helicopters brought water before the trucks got there :o

Stay safe

Rayo

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Post by Grunt213 » Tue Sep 08, 2009 3:10 am

Rayo Azul wrote:
Stay safe

Rayo
That goes for you too, buddy!
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Post by Grunt213 » Wed Sep 23, 2009 10:00 am

New material up tonight!!!

I promise.
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Post by Grunt213 » Thu Sep 24, 2009 4:31 am

Rain kept pouring down, causing steam to waif up from the white hot gashes burned into the heavy mechs armor. Water that didn't get boiled away streamed down the mech's rough surface and would pool in the occasional missile crater.

Inside the cockpit Peter sat in his command chair shivering against the cold. He felt worn out like is just got yanked out of a blast furnace and tossed into a freezer. Ignoring the sweat soaked goretex of his coolant vest chaffing against his skin, he checked his displays.

His mechs armor though much mangled in some spots wasn't breached, and the immediate tactical situation was much better, as the storm of metal and death that was churning around him had subsided. It seem like everyone had forgotten all about him for the moment.

The unit's other standing mech, Pfister's Vindicator, was going toe-to-toe with the last militia mech, a boxy shouldered Whitworth. He watched slack jawed as the two combatants circled blasting away at each other like two boxers in some sort of mechanised prize fight.

Missiles shot of the the boxy launchers on the militia mechs torso and slammed into the Vindicators left arm, sending broken armor panels flying into the night. The mercenary mech retaliated with man made lightning that crashed into the Whitworth's right shoulder. Armor sagged and ran down the length of the barreled arm in a blob of molten steel. The mass dripped off the elbow and dropped to the ground with a plop as the two adversaries continued to circle.

Peter peeled his eyes away from the deuling pair and checked his H.U.D. The heads up display painted him a pretty picture of blue triangles representing his own forces, and red squares for the militia units. Right now there was more blue than red which made Pete smile.

The H.U.D. linked to his targeting and tracking system allowed him to keep track of the tank battle that was raging up by the bend in the road. It also showed the four triangles representing Po's armor lance fresh from dispatching the two Rommels racing toward the fight at best speed.

Hopefully the calvary will arrive in time to save the day. he thought as one of the blue triangles winked out.
Last edited by Grunt213 on Thu Sep 24, 2009 8:33 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by Rayo Azul » Thu Sep 24, 2009 10:28 am

And Po is on his way... :twisted:

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Post by Grunt213 » Tue Oct 06, 2009 1:32 pm

I was thinking about introducing a new character, but was distracted while writing and wasn't happy with the results.

Will be writing more though.....writing about Po's latest exploits.

More to come soon.....
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Post by Grunt213 » Tue Oct 13, 2009 9:14 pm

New character time. I reworked the last bit that I wasn't too happy with and made it half ass decent.


Rain spattered against the ferro glass canopy of Marvin "Smiling Jack" Brown's Wyvern. Lightning streaked across the sky, lighting up the shadowy interior of the cockpit before plunging it back into darkness that matched the occupying mechwarrior's train of thoughts.

With great difficulty he managed to get the Wyvern onto it's back instead of being sprawled out with it's tail literally up the the air. It was indeed quite a feat considering how he was half dangling out of his seat by his restraints while working the controls, but that wasn't even what he was trying to do.

He was trying to get his mech back up onto it's feet and back into the fight, but the mech's internal structure wouldn't allow it, as he more felt than hear something metal grating against something not and then a constant thud, thud, thud coming from somewhere deep in the bowels of his Battlemech.

"Marv you okay?" the lieutenant's worry filled query snapped Marvin out of the dark thoughts.

Just where have I heard that accent before? he thought.

"Marv?" impatience dripped from the Lieutenant's voice.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just kicking myself in the ass. My pappy would be rolling in his grave if he knew I got his old ride shot up like this."

Marvin slammed his fist into his ejection seat's armrest. Which caused him to wince as the pain shot up his arm.

The mic clicked and there was a slight pause of static before Pete's thick accent flooded the inside of Marvin's neural helmet.

"Don't worry Marv, Po and his misfits put the hurt to that Rommel. Maybe later you could buy him a beer." Peter offered, which made Marvin smirk.

"Yeah I guess so." replied the downcast mercenary.

"I'm just glad your okay." with the pop of the com link closing came an avalanche of dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm the mechwarrior.

This battlemech has been in my family since the Star League, and in all the years since then, it has remained in tip top shape until today when I got it shot up. he chastised himself.

There's only a hand few of these Wyvern's (known) in all of the Successor States, it's gonna be an expensive b***h to get this mech fixed. He groaned.

A deep scowl ruined his otherwise handsome face as he looked into the storming heavens, wondering what to do. A flash of lightning, and the deep rolling bass of thunder. Another flash stabbed across the sky, bleaching the insides of the cockpit's interior giving Marvin's skin a unhealthy tone and making his eyes look like two bottomless black pits.

His thoughts shifted to old folk tales about unholy monsters riding atop storm clouds. He crossed himself and suddenly he knew what to do. He stomped down on the pedal that controlled his mech's torso movement. The thunking sensation intensified as the torso begrudgingly began to twist to the right.

"Oh God, that can't be good."

As soon as the torso twisted all the way to the right he unattached his neural helmet and heaved the heavy encumbering device off from his shoulders, and sent it crashing down onto the control panel to his right. Undoing his five point harness securing him to the ejection seat he sighed. "I really hope I know what I'm doing." Curling up into his seat he climbed up onto the side of the chair. He peeked over the back of the seat and began to mess with the small storage locker built into the ejection chair itself.

After fiddling with the lock for what seemed like ages, he managed to get the tiny door to open up for him. He fumbled around with the lockers contents before fishing out what he was searching for: an old school hold out pistol secured in an archaic looking holster, and a survival knife.

Daring to stand up, Marvin reached up and yanked on a switch next to the the ingress/egress door. The few lights and monitors active on his command console to winked out as power was cut to them. But more importantly the switch shut the mech's reactor down, which immediately made the violent thumping vibrations to stop. "Well the reactor didn't blow, so I guess that's a good sign." Marvin said hopefully.

Reaching back up he threw the other switch controlled the mech's access hatch. With an evil hiss the portal yawned open and Marvin held his mouth open as his ears popped and water rushed in as the cockpit became unpressurised.

New scents assaulted the mechwarrior, replacing the old gym sock muskiness of the Wyvern's cockpit. Rain, pine, tilled earth, the ozone smell of fried electronics, the stinging scent of propellants, acrid smoke, hot metal, and burning flesh. The smell of war.

Hesitantly he stuck his head out the hatch and the nightmarish sights of the battlefield that greeted him made him gasp. Overcoming his fear with grim determination, he pulled himself out and sent himself to help anyway he could.
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Post by Rayo Azul » Wed Oct 14, 2009 12:13 pm

Great update :wink:

Cheers

Rayo

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Post by Grunt213 » Wed Oct 14, 2009 3:29 pm

Rayo Azul wrote:Great update :wink:

Cheers

Rayo
Thanks!

An oversight on my part put this guy in a Star league area mech.

But I really liked the idea of a character facing the dilemma of keeping a rare mech up and running, so I decided to keep it.

My gaming group has dissolved for the time being, so I have extra time during the week to write....
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Post by BeoWolf » Thu Oct 15, 2009 6:59 am

Nice update, can't wait for the next part.
Stay true to the dream of the Kerensky's, now and always.

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Post by Grunt213 » Thu Oct 15, 2009 7:26 am

BeoWolf wrote:Nice update, can't wait for the next part.
Thanks!!
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Post by Grunt213 » Thu Oct 22, 2009 5:28 pm

Got unexpectanly called into work yesturday and today. Was gonna post some new stuff, but now it looks like we all are gonna have to wait till later tonight.

Till then,

James
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Post by Grunt213 » Fri Oct 23, 2009 9:19 am

Ran into a few guys from 2nd shift on my way home from work, threw back more than just a few beers with them..... I hope my spelling is not to horrible.


"DIE YOU BASTARD!!" (the cap lock daemon strikes again...) Mike screamed as he mashed down on the firing studs. The Whitworth's torso rocked back as 20 missiles streaked out of their launches to slam into the invader Vindicator. Not even looking to see the missiles handiwork, he slammed down on the throttle which kicked the militia mech into a run.

Smoke and flame engulfed the Vindicator, but still the damnable thing would not go down, slowly and methodically like something out of a nightmare it raised it's right arm and pointed the muzzle ended arm at Mike sending a stream of crackling blue energy smashing into the Whitworth's left leg.

Mike felt like he was getting the worse of the exchanges of fire, not because he was missing his shots, in fact his shots were connecting alot more often than his opponents. But the missiles that his mech were packing, were spreading their damage all over the Vindicator, which looked like some giant dog's chew toy. While the Ceres Arms Smasher PPC that the invader mech was toting was blasting 2/3Rd's of a ton chunks of armor away per successful shot.

"Why couldn't these guys show up next month after I get that Enforcer replacing this old bucket?" he asked of nobody in particular, as five missile shot just past his mech canopy and blew apart an ancient pine tree.

The clank of the auto loader cycling another rack of missiles brought a smile to Mike's face. Planting his mech's left foot, he cut the Whitworth back the other way, "DIE!" barely waiting for the tone of a target lock, he triggered his missiles which shot out to plow into the Vindicator's armor. Explosions blossomed all over the "Tauran" mech, sending broken bits of broken armor rocketing away from the explosions, a puff of oily smoke gave Mike hope that he was now finally hurting the Vindicator. Thick strands of myomer, which made up the mech's muscle structure, sparked and flapped about uncontrollably from a rent blown into the mech's left arm, which hung impotently at the mech's side.

Unfortunately for Mike, it wasn't the one with the PPC, who's azure whip flayed armor from the Whitworths right arm. Mike ignoring the slagging armor dripping from his mech, maneuvered his mech trying to get some advantage over his opponent, who's mech looked just as shot up as his own.

"Yep, if I had an Enforcer this fight would be long over. Then I'd be dealing with that Warhammer."

He glanced at his tact display, the Warhammer was still holding position, foot planted on the back of Samantha Lyon's Hunchback like some knight standing triumphantly over some monster it slew in some fairy tale.

"Damn you." Mike's voice whispered like a bone yard breeze. His plan had been so simple, surprise the enemy, drop the Warhammer, then annihilate everything else as his unit's leisure. He had achieved surprise, which was oblivious by the way all the invader mechs seemed to jump when his unit sprang from cover with guns a blazing. But things quickly began to unravel at that point, all the opening shots in those first few seconds but his flew short or wide, and instead of a skeletal Warhammer chasis belching smoke and flame into the heavens, he had a pissed off mechwarrior at the controls of one of the deadliest war machines ever invented on his hands, and that Warhammer pilot was good, real good....

Clank! the auto loader cycled another rack of missiles into his Whitworth's launchers. He brought his mech up short of cresting the top of the ditch with a stream of crackling energy and missile flying through the space he would have been occupying if he kept up his run, the PPC's man made lightning scortched the earth in front of Mike's mech and the long ranged missiles exploded all around the Whitworth, sending muddy clogs of earth skywayrd with their detonations.

"You got to do better than that fracker!!!"

Mike whirled his mech around and quickly lined up a shot, not even waiting for the shrill tone of a target lock, as his targeting system was too slow for him. Flame erupted from the Longbow 10 LRM launchers as their deadly missiles streaked out to hammer away at the Vindicator. Mike paid for his haste as half his missiles flew wide and impacted on rain softened soil around the invader mech, the others detonated in a tight group over the invaders torso which scuffed out the 1st Tauran Jagers symbol over the mechs armored heart.

"Thunderhead, this is Rainmaker, do you copy?"

Just who comes up with these names? Mike thought humorlessly.

"Yeah, go for Thunderhead," Mike responded while pushing his Whitworth into another evasive run.

"Thunderhead Be advised, reinforcements cannot reach you at this time, over."

"Rainmaker, you be advised, I got men on foot out here that I need evaced." Mike stubbornly replied.

"Thunderhead-" there was a slight scuffle on the other end of the comline, like the comtech dropped the headset.

"Barker!! listen to me boy, you get whatever is left of your command back to town on the double, or your next assignment we be a penal colony out in the Outback, you get me Lieutenant?!? Major David Reed's angry tone left no doubt that he would do everything in his power to make it so if Mike didn't comply.

With sagging shoulders, and the fire burning in his eyes slowly snuffing out, Mike replied, "Roger Rainmaker, on out way-"

The erie blue glow barely registered in Barker's mind a splint second before the hellacious blast of metallic steamed washed over Mikes body as the PPC punched through the thinly armored Whitworth's head with unchecked fury, eating away and consuming all in it's path.

Pain. Unimaginable, searing, pain unlike anything the mechwarrior had experienced dominated the poor souls thoughts as his exposed flesh scalded then blistered. With vision blurring and darkening around the edges, Mike stomped down on the pedals controlling his mech's jump jets. The force fo the G's slammed his body down into the recesses of his ejection seat as his already swimming vision dimed as the 40 ton militia mech rocketed away on a jet of orange flames into the relative safety of the forest.

"If only I have had an Enforcer..." were the last thoughts that raced through Lieutenant Mike Baker's mind before darkness overcame him.
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Head for the Hills, Grandma!

Grunt213
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Post by Grunt213 » Sun Oct 25, 2009 3:35 am

WOW over 1000 views!!!! 8)
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Head for the Hills, Grandma!