Breaking Point

[The UltimoScorp]

IC Maigo:

 

"Are you sure that's okay?"

[25K Now!]

IC: October M. Brightbridge

 

A zephyric press upon a tool of great distance, a walkie-talkie of sleek onyx plastic.

 

"Oberstabsgefreiter Brightbridge, ID 19901871FRG. I am requesting access to deploy a Walker in the training field."

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

It was said by some that Gwen Talal had grown up with motor oil in her veins and filaments in her brain, rumours that had not no small bearing in reality after she'd spent eighteen years under the same roof as the brains of Tylers Technologies and another seven up to her elbows in the dusty old wrecks of Walkers that they had rookies test their mechanical mettle on. Nor were they rumours that the hotshot engineer had any intention of letting slip any time soon: thus, why she was busting her ###### to get this slipshod job of a mech "repair" re-repaired.

 

Give me a wrench and a soldering iron and I shall move the Earth.

 

"Thaaaaaaaat should do it," she called out as she dropped down from the mech, feet-first in a surprising display of dexterity. "Feel free to sim with 'er to your heart's content, buddy."

 

-Void

[NorikSigma]

IC: Hassan

 

The pilot looked on with amazement at the Mech. He hadn't realised that the Jinn had sclerosis before Gwen had worked her magic on it. Hopping into the cockpit, a quick diagnostics scan showed zero damages remaining, and revealed that almost every function had been tuned to optimum performance.

 

"Wow, this is... It's incredible! Your well-earned reputation doesn't do you justice," Hassan said after turning off the Mecha.

 

"That sim competition sounds like a of a place to stretch the old boy out again."

 

His stomach started to grumble.

 

"Lunch?"

Edited July 10, 2016 by Norik Apple Juice

[HeavyMetalSunshineSister]

IC:

 

Strapped rather snugly into the custom-built simulator that had needed to be shipped in along with her and Einbora Týr, Fairuza let the hatch sit open, letting a bit of cool air move through while she waited for the action to begin. Her hands twitched on the controls, idly flicking the toggle for the running lights on and off, and, if the simulator were active, taking the main control stick through motions that would have the mech doing a sort of lazy two-step.

 

She'd been a little surprised at how soon the competition had been announced - not more than three hours after her arrival on-base, and she was lucky there'd been time for the simulator to be set up - but she wasn't in any mood to complain, even if she didn't know much more about her fellow test pilots than their names.

[sunflower]

IC: Marcus

 

"Well, welcome aboard then."

 

"You planing on getting in on the tournament?"

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Eh, I remember the basics. It's like riding a bike."

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

"Helps that you just hopped out of an actual Walker cockpit."

[The UltimoScorp]

IC Maigo:

 

"....I'll just get in the robot then."

 

Up the ladder she went.

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"... I can't remember when I last ate."

 

-Void

[NorikSigma]

IC: Hassan

 

"We should rectify that."

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"Sounds good to me," Gwen said, setting the iron down on the nearby worktable. "Lead the way, good sir!"

 

-Void

[NorikSigma]

IC: Hassan

 

Hassan led the way. A thought struck him.

 

"Do you like kebabs?"

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

“Alright! Welcome to the Horizon Walker Corps’ second sim tourney!”

 

From her spot on one of the hangar’s balconies Major Noah managed to be visibly pleased with herself despite her distance from any of the pilots. She adjusted her microphone a little, bringing it closer to her face and gesturing expansively at the pilots standing outside their machines.”I know a lot of you were here for the first one, but I’ll give you all the rundown anyway.”

 

“This is a free-for-all open to any active duty member of the Corp with valid certifications. You will be using your own machines. What are the rules? There are none. Work together, take on all comers, whatever you want. The sims make sure no one’s cheating, so there’s nothing to consider there.” Thick cabling ran across the floor of the hangar, criss-crossing on its way to each Walker but each cord inevitably made its way to the same bank of machines set up on the back wall. Several thick cables ran from those machines up to the ceiling to a central hub, wired into the base’s communication systems. Normally it would be used for briefings, but today it served a much more recreational purpose. “The rest of us, including anyone on the base with some spare time, can watch the action on our TVs. Some of the tech boys have volunteered to handle all the camera feeds and make sure we all get to see the best action.”

 

“I selected the setting, and no one should have an unfair advantage over anyone else. You will all be started at randomly generated locations with no immediate access to any other pilot. That’d make it too easy. You’ll keep going either until two pilots are standing, or my timer runs out.”

 

“Now that you’ve heard the rules,” Noah smiled and injected a little more enthusiasm into her voice. “Let’s hear about the prizes. Bragging rights, of course, and I hear the R&D guys might be picking a few guinea pigs. Unofficially, because I could never condone such a thing as your CO, I hear there’s a round of drinks on an unknown benefactor for the winners and their friends at the local bar.”

 

The way the Major said it, there wasn’t much of a doubt who the benefactor was. And even less of one after she let the sentence hang in the air a moment with an innocent smile.

 

“That’s enough of me talking, though. Get in your cockpits, and I’ll start the countdown.”

 

As the pilots took their seats in their Walkers, the hatches sealing behind them, the screens remained blank. A ‘10’ appeared in the center of their monitors, presumably as soon as the last cockpit was sealed, replaced by a ‘9 and so on. Their systems hummed to life, but it wasn’t until the countdown was nearly over that the simulation truly began. Sensors activated, haptic feedback began, and the entire user interface became active as though it were all real. In that regard, the simulations were nearly flawless.

 

The setting itself would be recognizable to any student of history. The ruined buildings, the coast clogged with debris. They were within a battlefield, one fought upon seventy years ago. The site of one of the third world war’s most vicious battles. The center of the city was little more than a rubble-strewn wasteland, flattened by a multitude of bombing runs and warfare on the ground, while the streets leading away were riddled with the telltale marks of warfare. Burnt out husks that might once have been tanks could be found here and there. The coast, its ports and waterways, were choked with the sunken hulls of ships and associated debris. Downed planes, fighters and bombers alike, littered the city with their wreckage. There was no evidence of active fighting, not yet, but designers had spared no effort in making the cityscape seem as though the fighting had only finished yesterday.

 

The countdown reached zero, and the pilots felt the restrictions on their controls lift.

Edited July 17, 2016 by Peele

[The UltimoScorp]

IC Alexander Reichel:

 

The neurohelmet snug on my head, linking my own sense of balance to the war machine, my brain doing what the machine couldn't. A voice in the cockpit. Cool. Female. Automated.

 

"Reactor: Online. Sensors: Online. Weapons: Online. All systems: Nominal."

 

The dull grey and green gleam of Miss Direction was all but invisible to me, but I could feel her all around me. Immense power burned at her core, nuclear fire, barely contained, waiting to be unleashed. 

 

She was a tough old girl, more akin to a walking tank than a proper Walker. A mobile weapon platform, made for the express purpose of doing massive damage to a target. The techs had simplified the controls as best they could, but I was still surrounded by minute controls and targeting systems.

 

On her left arm was strapped an immense metal plate, larger than the shields on a Warrior. In her right arm was the Heavy Machine gun that served as a back up weapon when an opponent closed in, or when the Railgun was depleted. Speaking of, on her right shoulder was the immense main Cannon. The FAW-15 Railgun. An older model. Twice the kick of the new ones. Not as mobile, either. All part of simplifying the Walker. It fired in one direction: forward. The idea was to reinforce keeping my enemies in front of me, where they belonged. Somewhere off to my left and right were the missiles. Not much to say about those. they could be dumb fired or set to track a target, though the tracking was rudimentary at best, and required line of sight from my targeting computer.

 

Bringing myself into the present, I looked over the monitors, information streaming from the Miss's broad sensor arrays. Plenty of wrecked buildings and smoking wrecks to provide cover from return fire, and excellent firing lanes. Or at least, I hoped so. Either way, standing in the open wasn't going to do anything for my continued participation. The heavy footfalls of Miss Direction sounded as we turned and moved for the relative safety of cover that a building provided.

Edited July 17, 2016 by Strider!

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"Been years since I had 'em, but I'm down."

 

-Void

[HeavyMetalSunshineSister]

IC:

 

Fairuza's hands went still for the countdown apart from a slight twitching of the right thumb. As the numbers neared zero, a relaxed smile spread across her face, and, at the moment that the controls went live and the war-torn landscape flooded into view, she gently pulled the control stick, rocking Týr back a couple of steps as she took in the view. Having found the bombed-out shell of a building with walls high enough to provide decent cover, she pushed the 'mech forward again, using its one good hand to scoop an entrance out of the south wall before stepping in and settling down to listen.

[NorikSigma]

IC: Hassan

 

"Would you like to try some of mine? It's the real deal, which is more than can be said for the kebab bars in the city. And I've never had an unsatisfied customer yet!"

 

IC: Natalie

 

Deep breaths.

 

Natalie emptied her mind. Stepping inside Valkyrie had been harder than she thought.

 

While the traumatic loss of her family was not witnessed from inside her companion, getting into the cockpit for battle, if only a simulated one, still brought back the mix of emotions that gnawed at her every battle since that day.

 

Don't be such a drama llama. It's only a sim contest. Only... Only a simulation.

 

Countdown reaching zero, she opened her eyes. Ruined buildings and wreckage...

 

Natalie slowly moved Valkyrie forward, keeping low and listening for sounds. She was near the coast, and stopped behind a half-intact factory complex, scanning.

Edited July 19, 2016 by Norik Apple Juice

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"If you're offering," Gwen said, "sure thing!"

 

-Void

[NorikSigma]

IC: Hassan

 

"I'll whip some up asap."

 

They reached the bunk section of the building, and Hassan immediately got to work in the communal kitchen.

 

The moment he donned the stained apron, he felt awash with a new energy.

 

"Let's start."

 

He worked with a feverish energy, his concentration aimed at the seemingly small yet spiritually monumental task in front of him: making a kebab for a new customer.

 

"What kinda toppings you looking to get?"

Edited July 24, 2016 by Norik Apple Juice

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"Uhhh ... what are my options?"

 

-Void

[HeavyMetalSunshineSister]

IC:

 

There comes a moment, when sitting safely behind cover, watching for someone to make the first move, that it becomes obvious that everyone else is doing the same thing.

 

As Fairuza saw it, such a thing would be fine in a genuine combat situation - but a bit of a mood-killer for a sim tournament. Unless there were some protocol in place for dropping fuel-air bombs on the locations of randomly-selected pilots hiding behind cover, the situation could, in fact, never break.

 

Which would be a shame, really.

 

Sighing, she eased Týr out of the bombed-out shell of the building, walked the 'mech into the middle of the street, and keyed the comm to transmit on all frequencies.

 

"Last one to Valhalla buys the drinks, but only if one of you starts shooting already!" A brief pause, then she rattled off her coordinates, followed by a snarled "Get some" as she started scanning rooftops and the openings of streets for an approaching challenger.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Hoooooly ! This chick's jib cuts through steel beams!"

 

The mad laughs that bookended the statement, however, didn't seem to be accompanied by a mech - at least, not one that Fairuza could locate as she scanned the area at and below her Arsenal Walker's line of sight. The Test Team pilot waited in the street for several more seconds, observing the spaces where a Walker could mount a building, use one for cover, or ambush from a side street. However, the 100mm bullets that began pinging against Tyr's unprotected back didn't come from the streets.

 

They came from the sky, along with a blinding flash of white and gold.

 

Horizon's top Raptor pilot giggled and banked left, using the buildings to the southwest of Fairuza's location for cover as the celestially-colored transformable Walker dipped out of view again.

 

"C'mon, cowgirl. Let's head out to the beach," Nadia Lorena White suggested coquettishly over the comm.

 

-Tyler

[HeavyMetalSunshineSister]

IC:

 

Einbora Týr shook slightly as the shots pinged off of its back, but the hail of bullets gave Fairuza all the information she needed to turn and look up in time to see the brilliantly painted Raptor soar overhead, bank to the left, and vanish to the southwest. Týr pumped its fist in the air as its pilot laughed, pushing the throttle to follow her new dance partner through the city. Fairuza's piloting was a touch more careful now that someone had shot at her; she hugged the edges of buildings, making sure to leave as few clear shots open as possible while still looking out for another glimpse of the Raptor.

 

Just in case she did see something, she kept Týr's left arm raised, ready to return fire.

 

"You certainly can make an entrance, stranger. Make this battle glorious, and I'll pay for drinks later, yeah?"

[Krayzikk]

GM IC:

"Permission granted, Oberstabsgefreiter Brightbridge. Proceed at your discretion."

 

IC:

 

Federation Walkers were only a little over a decade old, but in that time there had been more than twenty variations produced on the original frames. The Federation had even created new frames, skeletal structures with the capacity to rearrange themselves into new configurations. New technology was produced every year, alongside new Walkers to field it. But the FAW-007[G] was the workhorse. In service since the Walker Corps had created ground-based units, the very first humanoid war machine to walk on Earth's service. These titles belonged to the Warrior. Even today they served, testing new technologies and stepping onto the battlefield against machines far newer. The earliest aces had sworn by them, even to this day, and the brass agreed. 

 

Even so the first production run, the first generation, of Warriors had largely been phased out. They had served their time, but they weren't the perfected machines pilots knew of today. They had been designed before the Federation knew how to build them to last, and required changes to their production. A tolerance issue here, a running tweak to material there, a different manufacturer tapped in for that one part... More simply, they were getting old. They required a little more work to keep running at their best.

 

But their controls fit just right in her hands. Ayane knew how they moved, how the old girl responded, how far she could push her luck before she couldn't take it. The sounds her Walker made. Anyone who was around a machine for so long earned that sort of empathy, that sort of understanding. She'd tell Ayane when something was wrong, when the Japanese pilot was pushing too hard, and when she was hurting. That awareness came from practice, endless practice, with the same machine. For all her faults, the Warrior could still serve. Would still serve as long as Ayane needed. She had served a different pilot before, gone by a different name, but Ayane had known her name the instant she took this same seat seven years ago.

 

Saa, ikuzo...

 

The controls warmed in her hands as the countdown ticked, the quiet hum of computers awakening. It was a soothing sound, one that served to hone the energy pulsing through her frame into a razor-sharp focus. The game was about to begin. She could feel it without looking past the eyelids that covered her gaze, knew the timer had reached zero because she counted along. Her brown eyes opened in time with the sensors coming online, sweeping across her environment to determine her whereabouts. Not far from the coast, by her estimate, on a ruined downtown street. No enemies were in sight, to her eyes or her Warrior's sensors, so she permitted herself one more moment. One more deep breath.

 

Ronin.

 

She eased on the controls, servos growling to life before thrusters roared to carry her down the street. All sensors were at their maximum, Ayane's own eyes included, while she listened to the comm traffic. After a moment, she flicked her own comm to an open channel.

 

"So, who wants to play?"

[Constructelf]

OOC: Boss man told me it was okay over Skype, so I'll assume it's okay to post this...

 

IC: Lé Thanh Khiêm

Nobody would know where he had come from. Nobody would know who he was. He was the ghost of the simulation, a rogue NPC awakening out of season to spread havoc among the players of this game.

 

Of course, the above paragraph was nought but a fantasy that Khiêm's mind entertained for more than a few seconds. It was true that he had just arrived at Horizon and had not made acquaintance of the majority of his future comrades-in-arms. But his presence was known to and authorized by the commanding officer of this base, and any spectators would see that the new challenger approaching was nothing more mysterious than that. And even if his opponents were not aware of it now, they would soon remember seeing a new Warrior standing in the hangar with a paint job that Khiêm was starting to regret having commissioned.

 

So in truth, while Khiêm felt like the mysterious black-clad knight entering the royal tourney with no declared allegiance, he knew that he was probably seen as just the new guy with an overly patriotic Walker.

 

But apparently he wasn't the only one.

 

"Con người Nhật ngu ngốc này..."

 

It must have been Thần Nông's curse that Khiêm had spawned close enough to the Ronin that he could discern it's red and white colour and the kabuto on its head. And with few buildings around for cover, the pilot could surely see his own Walker as well. And with the challenge that its pilot, one Lance Corporal Inoue had issued, it didn't seem that the rogue samurai was in the mood for an alliance.

 

Khiêm had thought of this scenario, and as such had arranged for the first three rounds of his first magazine to be stacked in the order that followed:

 

"Smoke. Flashbang. Thermobaric."

 

With three grenades lobbed into the air at his opponent, Khiêm sent The Boom scrambling for cover behind the shell of a building already ravaged by battle.

 

IC: Susan

Having chosen to opt out from the tournament, Susan was watching the proceedings from a view screen. In particular, her eye was on Sergeant White, watching how she handled her Raptor. Her eye also strayed towards Private Reichel, wondering how he would fare.

Edited July 30, 2016 by Constructman

[25K Now!]

IC: October M. Brightbridge

 

"Ein herzliches Dankeschön."

 

End communication.

 

Eyes of azure met navy steel. The wild dance of the machine god, the violent beauty of Huckebein ... it was once again the moment of reckoning.

 

Wodan's rooks were two in number.

 

Graceful steps carried her, poised and confident, into the heart of the great raven.

 

Would Maigo Koizumi prove herself to be her Munin?

 

"Take us out, Private."

[The UltimoScorp]

IC Maigo:

 

"了解"

 

Restraining clamps disengaged, snapping back, freeing the immense machine.

 

Within its depths, Maigo looked over the controls. To her relief, many of them were the same or similar to her former AW.

 

She muttered to herself as she went over the necessary pre checks.

 

"Gyros: check, actuators: check, sensors: check...." She frowned momentarily as she realised there were no weapon checks for her to do. She'd have to get used to that.

 

With a deep breath, she wrapped her hands around the controls.

 

The Huckebein stepped out of its berth, slowly, uneasily. 

 

IC Alex:

 

I kept still, listening to all the chatter through the open comms. And frowned. I could head toward the beach, it was close to my own location. Or I could move toward Ayane's position, hope to catch her with the first shot.

 

My frown deepened. Taking on two walkers wasn't exactly my idea of a good time, but it was more likely to end in my favor than duking it out one on one. At least with two, i might be able to wait and take easy pickings.

 

With a slight grumble, I angled Miss Direction toward the beach, moving slowly to let the others have a chance to soften each other up, and keeping to the buildings.

[NorikSigma]

IC: Natalie

 

A new reading on the Valkyrie's sensors alerted Natalie to the Miss Direction's presence. The Gunner- as indicated by the sensor display- was making a steady trek down towards the coast, clearly making an ingress to the pair of mechs already locked in combat.

 

An ingress that passed right through Natalie's position.

 

"Merde!" She cursed in her native tongue. The Valkyrie was already lacking in the stealth department, and if the Gunner got any closer, her heat signatures would appear clearly to the other pilot, even if she were to hide inside the warehouse.

 

Hurry up, think!

 

There was nothing else to it. She had to hide elsewhere, or face a heavily-armed Gunner in a direct attack.

 

Triste, mon cher. Your formidable armour would still take much damage from sustained, direct fire. Natalie silently consoled her machine. Throttling forward, she drove the Mech away from the warehouse and, positioning the warehouse between herself and the incoming Mech, made use of the building as a cover to scale away from the beach to higher ground while keeping low.

 

Natalie turned down most of the mech's systems to lower heat dissipation, waiting for the Miss Direction to come closer.

Edited August 5, 2016 by Norik Apple Juice

[sunflower]

IC: Marcus

 

Her first few steps hadn't ended in a flaming ball of wreckage, which was as good a start as any Luna could think of. Systems were nominal; reactor firing at a steady output and weapons fully loaded. The transition wasn't as bad as she had initially thought it was going to be, considering the fact that her previous mech was easily twice the size. It took a few steps to get her bearings, moving past blocks of the bombed city at a steady pace without a hitch. Though Luna suspected that this was the result of a particular advantage of the sims; the simulated machines tended to operate how they were intended to, rather than how they actually performed. Considering the fact that her new machine was still partly disassembled in the hanger, this was especially true for her.

 

Regardless, the experimental Walker sure did move. Not burdened by layer upon layer of armor and munitions as the Aronnax had been, the jog which Luna had eased into between the shattered monoliths of the city would've matched the late gunner's flat-out sprint and then some. Each leaping step was smooth, the internal sensors providing an almost unnatural level of balance to its stride. It was, in some disassociated part of her mind, a rather exhilarating experience. For a moment she considered finding a stretch of land to see just how far she could push the machine. That is, until the crumbling bulk of a halfway collapsed building came up fast before her, snapping her out of it and back into the simulated reality. Luna yanked hard on the controls to skid to a stop.

 

She had dropped into the sim near the interior of the city, and after taking a few moments to familiarize herself with the general layout of the controls and weapon systems, began to circle around towards the outskirts. The confines of the buildings only served to make her nervous, she didn't like not being able to get a clear shot in most directions, or the fact that it gave far too much cover for anyone that might be trailing her.

 

Resuming the steady pace, Luna angled her march partly towards where the sound of weapons-fire could be heard. New mech, more experience, Luna was a breath away from being hopeful.

 

Well, hopeful to not get picked off in the first few seconds by the Wolf again.

[Krayzikk]

IC:

Smoke for a preemptive strike was a double edged sword. Ayane couldn't see The Boom, but its pilot couldn't see her either. Once the first grenade went off, she knew she had to move. The Ronin's thrusters fired, carrying her left and away from her previous spot. None too soon, either; the flashbang, deadened somewhat by the smoke, was still much too bright on the edge of her vision. She wasn't blinded, but she certainly had to blink a few times. The final grenade, which would have done damage, impacted far enough away to do no real damage to the Ronin. Thermobaric weapons did damage primarily from pressure and from heat, both of which she was far enough from. Some of the armor on her legs might have scorched and she certainly felt the pressure while she was maneuvering, but she was largely unharmed.

 

While her opponent was behind the building, she proceeded forward and ducked behind one herself. She had an idea of his location, she just needed to move in cautiously. She could handle him if she could close to at least mid-range, although close would be best.

[Constructelf]

IC: Lé Thanh Khiêm

A lot of smoke, bottled tinnitus, but I didn't hear the sound of twisting metal clattering on the ground... Probably no damage done. Total failure. Will revise round order after this match.

 

The other contestants probably would have heard the smoke and hear the noise of the rounds he fired. They would be coming soon. "Time to get out..."

 

Keeping an eye out for any sudden movement, Khiêm moved The Boom behind another building farther away from Ronin.

Edited August 24, 2016 by Constructman

[The UltimoScorp]

IC Alex:

 

Luckily or unluckily for me, I happened to spot the heat sig on my sensors. I grimaced. Too large and hot to be a burning tank; it seemed I had inadvertantly run close to someone else. And if I had spotted them, there was no way they hadn't spotted me, too. 

 

Miss Direction hefted her shield, and readied her Heavy Machine Gun as I took her around the buildings, hoping to move past the other's position to an area where I'd have a clearer line of fire, and a bit more distance between me and them. The less damage I took early on, the longer I could stay in this thing.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Freaking cha!

 

This means she got the prize for winning the sim tournament either way! yeah! Aya-chan would be pumped!

 

Lauren White, from the cockpit of the divine Raptor, allowed herself a grin of the same lustrous white color as her beloved Walker. Her opponent had clearly learned that taking 100mm rounds to the vulnerable areas along the back wasn't going to get her very far in the fight, barely leaving any breathing room between her Walker and the bombed-out buildings of the San Diego sim. It was good for keeping herself safe from Lauren's attacks - as long as Lauren was coming from the side Fairuza hoped she was. Her Warrior's left arm was raised, right side covered by the buildings - its cranial unit staring dead ahead.

 

Its cranial unit...

 

Have you ever tried staring at the sun?

 

How about staring at the sun through a camera? Have you tried that?

 

If you have, and the resulting sunbeam left irritating Technicolor dots in your vision for minutes afterwards, then perhaps you may be able to sympathize with the plight of Fairuza Nyhåb - who, on her cheerful walk to the beach, suddenly found herself struck from head on by a stream of 100mm fire to the chest, dancing along her Warrior's cockpit and torso for several seconds. All the beleaguered cameras in her cranial unit would detect, however, was the bright California sun - and maybe, if Fairuza herself squinted while trying to discern shapes in the sunny sky, a regal white-and-gold Raptor that was using its heavenly coloration to disguise itself against the horizon.

 

"You got a dealio!" came a cheerful Canadian hick accent (complete with an excitable tinge of native Somali) as Munequita, in the skies above, performed a loop and flew with her back to the sun again, performing a second run straight towards Týr and firing a pair of Sidewinders at the Test Team Warrior's cockpit. "But you've gotta pay for my girlfriend too~!"

 

-Tyler

[HeavyMetalSunshineSister]

IC:

 

Mistake mistake MISTAKE

 

Twisting the controls to force her Walker to duck behind the building before the missiles could find their mark, Fairuza made a series of sounds that could only really be described as panicked Faroese squawking. The missiles detonated hard against her shelter, showering Týr with debris and further rattling the pilot.

 

"Okay, Týr? Buddy? Pal? First chance I get, I'm sticking some polarizing lenses on that camera, okay? That trick gets to work once."

 

Screwing up her eyes, Fairuza came back out of cover, keeping her Walker on the move this time as she scanned the sky for Munequita, Brinfinally finding her opponent silhouetted against the sun.Bringing the left arm up, she squinted against the glare and fought to keep the crosshairs centered, tears beginning to stream from her aching eyes as she triggered a burst from the autocannon and waited for -

 

[-Target Lock Acquired-]

 

Suppressing the urge to shout, she flicked the switches to launch a pair of missiles skyward, hoping her dance partner had less skill in evasion than offense.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

From the cockpit of her Raptor (whoops, or not, stupid sim) Nadia grinned. This girl was panicking. Panicking, or still distracted. It was clear in her movements - the shakiness of the Warrior's left arm as it tried to draw a bead on her, the way it leaned against the building like a drunk on a wall, unable to leave cover for fear of wandering dick first into another pair of Sidewinders, the erratic shot from Týr's left arm, easily dodged by a quick turn to the right...

 

This was her fight. This Warrior couldn't move like she moved, and - like most Federation machines - clearly wasn't built with the intention of fighting an aerial Walker. As two short-range missiles spat from the Walker's visible shoulder, Lauren felt only a twinge of the normal wrench in a pilot's gut at the sight of a SAM. She was in a Raptor, after all, one of under a hundred left on Earth. She was the commander of perhaps the last standing Raptor squadron on the planet, and certainly the last line of defense for the planet's final mass driver. She was Sergeant Nadia goddamn White, and missile locks could kiss her sculpted black ######.

 

Her new team had better be watching well. One day this would be them.

 

Nadia casually began climbing with Munequita, coaxing her girl for more speed than was even remotely necessary - it seemed like almost instantly, the short range missiles had exploded, their 500 meter range quickly expended trying to keep up with the cutting-edge Arsenal Walker. It was only when she'd climbed to about ten kilometers above the city that she leveled out and then pointed her nose downward at the target. This didn't even feel fair.

 

Buuuuut, she really did need to check on Ayane...

 

She could at least do the Test Team gal a courtesy. She had fought pretty well.

 

Munequita began a dive, locking onto Einbora Týr as the Raptor picked up speed and the tops of skyscrapers became visible again. Her sights were aimed squarely for the crown of the Warrior's head, looking to pierce the unprotected cranial unit and completely pierce the mech from head to groin. Like Vlad Tepes with a tank gun.

 

"Seeya at the bar, hot stuff~!"

 

The stream of 100mm fire followed the farewell in due course.

 

-Tyler

Edited September 2, 2016 by Pip Bernadotte

[HeavyMetalSunshineSister]

IC:

 

Fairuza had cause to be devoutly thankful that she was not continuously transmitting on the comm; while she did her best to run for cover when Munequita ascended, there was a limited amount that would do a Warrior any good against an enemy coming in from above, and while she wasn't sure her - unfortunately, excellent - dance partner would understand even the words that formed the running stream of wildly incoherent Faroese cursing, it was fair to say that she wouldn't want to take the chance that someone would record and translate such a transmission.

 

That someone might overhear from outside of the simulator did not, it must be said, occur to her.

 

Still, while there was nowhere to hide, running full-tilt did manage to spoil the plans of the aspiring Impaler now coming down from the sky to a certain extent. As the heavy impacts started, the auxiliary camera Fairuza had installed at the top of the cranial unit immediately died, followed within seconds by the main camera as the cranial unit was pulverized. After that, the shaking of the simulator told her that shots were traversing a line down the back of her walker, throwing off Týr's balance and pulverizing the second auxiliary camera - the Faroese Warrior pitched forward, landing with considerably more noise than dignity.

 

As the Warrior struggled to rise, Fairuza opened the comm and cleared her throat.

 

"I did not say I was finished. Týr is blind, the head is gone, but the warrior remains. Come to the ground and finish this, if you want to earn those drinks. I'll... I'll be at the column of black smoke, I guess."

 

As she said this, she took her 'mech through the motions of preparing for the final showdown. Memory served in place of sight as Týr drew the spear from its waist, primed the Gauss rifle, and prepared to die.

 

It would have been undignified to let it end any other way.

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

The game had  b e g u n.

 

Lance Corporal Ayane did not stay behind cover long; such was not her way. She had a rough idea of what hole her prey had scampered into, and she was not about to give him a chance to strike again. The Ronin's thrusters eased the aging Warrior out from cover, sweeping Ayane's field of vision with its rifle, in time to catch the gaudy yellow and red machine bolting behind another building. She doubted the other pilot had caught a similar glimpse of the Ronin, his field of vision wasn't conducive to it, which afforded her an excellent opportunity. The Boom had moved into cover from the east, so for the second time this week Ayane moved west.

 

Her Warrior's thrusters carried her forward rapidly, circling around the same building from the west to flank the support-oriented Warrior. The sharp, scathing reply of her Naginata shoulder unit announced her arrival; the weapon sent a high-caliber round rocketing towards The Boom's torso at a much, much closer range than Khiêm would enjoy. The Ronin's shield was held close, guarding the body and displaying the oni painted upon it, while its right hand sprayed the other Warrior with rounds from its assault rifle.

 

Not that his bad luck was ending; if he had the time to look closely, he would the heat katana in the left hand of the rapidly closing Warrior.

 

Within her cockpit, Ayane's grin bordered on feral.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Kilometers above the ground, Nadia White's eyes widened.

 

She...she wants to put her dukes up?

 

...

 

BABE BABE BABE CAN I PLEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASE

 

She'd hardly had a chance to test the heat tomahawks in combat so far - aside from McKinley in the last sim tournament - and this was a perfect chance to test their capabilities! It was inevitable that she'd be fighting in Walker mode someday, and she needed to get some practice in now rather than later. Those Union had lightsabers! Gen-yoo-ine lightsabers, like the ones in Ayane's cheesy cartoons anime! She needed to learn to fight, before they did to her what they did to McKinley--

 

Her train of thought ground to a halt, tipped over, and then stood back upright of its own volition.

 

McKinley. Ever since she'd first started jockeying a Raptor, she had been serving under McKinley - confident, carefree, prone to banter, all traits shared by Blackjack 1. He was always chattering at his opponents, baiting them into making moves their conscious minds never would have allowed. It hadn't failed him...until one day it had, leaving his storied Arsenal Walker ground into scrap the size of a Volkswagen and his body broken and mangled in an intensive care unit. That was where it got you when having fun on the battlefield started to overshadow doing your job.

 

Her prudish girlfriend had rubbed off on her. Grrr.

 

Nadia White swallowed the bitter taste that had welled up in her throat along with the word:

 

"Sorry, yo."

 

100mm fire rained down from northwest, a few kilometers above Tyr, aiming to breach the cockpit and make an end of things.

 

"I'll buy you a round on girl's night once I win."

 

-Tyler

[NorikSigma]

IC Alex:

 

Luckily or unluckily for me, I happened to spot the heat sig on my sensors. I grimaced. Too large and hot to be a burning tank; it seemed I had inadvertantly run close to someone else. And if I had spotted them, there was no way they hadn't spotted me, too. 

 

Miss Direction hefted her shield, and readied her Heavy Machine Gun as I took her around the buildings, hoping to move past the other's position to an area where I'd have a clearer line of fire, and a bit more distance between me and them. The less damage I took early on, the longer I could stay in this thing.

 

 

IC: Natalie

 

The heavy footfalls of the Miss Direction tipped Natalie off that the other pilot had detected her in time. The sensors indicated it moving off, towards where the enemy would have a clear line of fire.

 

Natalie pondered her options. She needed to get close to capitalise on the Valkyrie's strengths. Or she could charge once Miss Direction came into view.

 

Natalie raised her shield and drew the MA-37 at her hip, feet hovering over the boost pedal...

 

 

IC:

 

"Uhhh ... what are my options?"

 

-Void

 

IC: Hassan

 

While the pantry contained a deceptively large variety of condiments (for a kitchen in a military base), too much of it was either unsuitable for kebabs or simply expired. Rummaging through the cupboards, he listed pff the options.

 

"Well, there's chipped beef, or shredded chicken. As for sauce..." he stopped when he found what he was looking for.

 

Soy sauce Here? And some limes...

 

"I can make some peanut sauce to go with the kebab."

Edited September 3, 2016 by Norik Apple Juice