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Tobias's GM skims along the sands, hyper bazooka resting on it's shoulder, as he grips the controls in his cockpit, the GM behind him slogging along at it's best speed. Overhead the Tin Cod and Depp Rogg float serenely in the cloudless sky, high enough that only someone very sharp eyed could see them. "Tobias... we have the target in view. He's 11000 meters to the northwest of you." Smirking, Tobias checks his bazooka, raising it a bit as he changes course slightly and accelerates some more, headed for his target. As he crests another dune, entering a fairly flat area, he spots his target ahead: a Gouf, walking across the sand in a general southern direction. What he isn't expecting, however, is the second Gouf with it; even so, he narrows his eyes, crouches slightly, and tries to approach as far as he can before he's seen. This actually turns out to be pretty far; he has the sun at his back, and Kalila doesn't notice him until his GM suddenly skids to a stop, pointing it's bazooka at her Gouf. Letting out an incoherent yell of surprise, she raises her shield, but the bazooka round catches her off-balance, the shield exploding into pieces from the detonation and throwing her mobile suit heavily to the ground. The Gouf next to her turns, a bit slower than she was, and blazes away at Tobias, who is already in motion again, a roostertail of dust being thrown up behind his GM as he tears across the landscape. Most of the stream of bullets from the Gouf misses, though a few track across the chest of his GM, blowing chunks off the external armor plating. However, in turn, his GM flashes past the Gouf, rotates 180 degrees, and stops, firing a 305mm round at point blank into the backpack, sending the Gouf flying forwards face down as the explosion in turn sends a lance of flame into the torso of the mobile suit, destroying the cockpit systems instantaneously. Rolling over on her back, Kalila narrows her eyes at this, powering up her heat rod and whipping it upwards in a blur. Tobias ducks, but he isn't quite fast enough to prevent the heat rod from wrapping around the barrel of his bazooka, and with one tug, the bazooka falls into three pieces, landing on the ground in front of his GM. In turn, however, he quickly snatches his beam saber from it's charger, the blade slicing through Kalila's heat rod even as it extends, causing it too to fall to the ground in pieces. "Crap!" Fear of death speeds Kalila's actions, and she manages to raise her Gouf's hand before Tobias can finish pulling back for another swing, pulling the trigger. Her aim is a little off, luckily for Tobias, and the stream of bullets meant for his cockpit slams into the skirt armor of his mobile suit, a few bullets punching through and one piercing cleanly through his GM's balancer. Feeling a sudden jerk in his controls, Tobias curses as red warnings start to flash up all over his screen, his mobile suit waving it's arms comically as it tilts over backwards, crashing to the ground. As Kalila gets her Gouf to it's feet and prepares to draw her heat sword, a trail of machinegun bullets suddenly walks it's way across the sand and up the side of her mobile suit, one pinging against the guard on her Gouf's mono-eye. "Get away from Tobias, you...!" The Tin Cod flashes overhead, doing a barrel roll to avoid the stream of 75mm death that Kalila sends in it's direction, and this distraction is what gives Tobias's GM the time to catch up and start blazing away in her direction rather energetically, if not too accurately. Kalila decides discretion is the better part of valour as she spots incoming EF patrol units, and beats a hasty retreat, firing off most of the rest of her 75mm's magazine as various bullets ping around her Gouf. Tobias: 8 VP gained, 2 days damage Kalila: 6 VP gained, 2 days damage Ion waits patiently as the Type 74 slowly pulls up it's sonic jack, then zips ahead on it's hoverjets, beginning to follow after it. About three thousand meters ahead, it stops, settles to the ground, and plunks the sonar sensor into the ground with a precision born only of some experience. One of the GM pilots following her Sniper sighs loudly; this scene has repeated itself more than twenty-seven times today so far, and it's making theri travel a little bit slower than he'd like. Still, it's worked so far; they've managed to elude at least two patrol groups so far, thanks to their careful leapfrog advance. "All clear, Corporal. Nothing but some ambient noise and us." Nodding, Ion keys the transmitter. "Acknowledged. Let's go, folks, we're almost there..." The three GMs start forwards again, proceeding one hundred meters, two hundred meters, three hundred, passing the Type 74. Suddenly, her comms blare again. "Corporal, we're getting a transient! From both sides, and directly in front!" True to word, two Zaku Desert Types suddenly fling off their camo netting from 150 meters in front and fire their bazookas with deadly accuracy at Ion's group. From either side, two more Zakus burst seemingly from the ground as they escape their hides, blazing away with their machineguns. Turning to the side, Ion's GM raises it's shield, managing to deflect the worst of the blast. The GM right behind her does the same, the blast scarring and cracking it's shield but not penetrating, though it is knocked off balance. The third GM, unfortunately, is slower on the ball than Ion, and it's riddled from both sides by the two Zakus as they rush in. The machinegun bullets pan across Ion next, but aside from an annoying rattling, not much happens. Ion narrows her eyes as her GM Sniper drops to it's knee, bringing up the heavy weight of the beam rifle that is it's purpose. Ignoring the machinegun fire for now, she narrows her eyes and flips down the targeting scope, zooming in, in, in... She pulls the trigger on her beam sniper rifle, a lambent beam slamming into the upper torso of one of the Zakus and penetrating out of it's back, then trasversing the beam to the side towards the second one. A pair of cracker grenades suddenly sail clear of it's hand, however, and it ducks, the beam severing the arm right after the grenades sail forth. The beam fizzles out before she can trasverse it back, and she dumps it to the ground, snatching a beam saber from it's charger as her and the remaining GM go back to back. The Zaku approaching her fakes to the right, then suddenly crouches, firing a barrage of missiles from the launcher on it's legs, catching Ion out of position. The missiles tear and gouge at the tough luna titanum armor, pitting it somewhat, but not significantly damaging it, though it is enough to make the GM Sniper drop it's shield. On the other side, the other GM slams against her mobile suit's backpack as the other Zaku buries it's heat hawk in the mobile suit's shoulder, though it fires it's vulcans into the Zaku's head at close range. The pilot staggers backwards, grabbing a grenade from his waist rack and tossing it between the GM's legs, then drops behind a dune. The other Zaku hastily steps back as Ion leaps forwards to avoid the cracker grenade, the other GM doing likewise, and drops another grenade on the ground, before grabbing it's heat hawk and flinging it into her primary camera, beating a hasty retreat. As the explosion of the first cracker resounds, flinging both GMs forwards, Ion's eye widen as her secondary cameras kick in, showing the secnd grenade at literally point blank range. The little caps on the end unscrew as the light blinks faster and faster... ...and thick smoke jets forth, enshrouding the scene as Ion's shoulders slump in relief. Pink Panthers: 1 Zaku IID lost Ion: 6 VP gained, 2 days damage Through the drizzling rain, marched Eugene Rice-Ionesco and his mobile suit squad. Their mobile suits brushed past the large trees and expansive foliage of northern Congo. They had spent hours traveling through the rain, the mud, and the equatorial rain forest, hoping that they would eventually find the Congo River. After nearly eight hours of searching, the squad pushed past the tree line onto a small, flat plain next to a massive, swollen river. "Ah-ha!" cried the pilot of the Zaku II-K over the radio. "We found it!" "Jesus," replied another one of Rice-Ionesco's pilots. "About bloody time." "Indeed," answered the third. "Are you sure it's the Congo?" Rice-Ionesco asked. "I thought it'd be bigger." "It's the biggest river I've seen," said the first pilot. Rice-Ionesco pulled out his map, glad he was sitting in his cockpit instead of being outside in the misery of an early October shower in the central African highlands. "I don't know," he said. Rice-Ionesco turned his mobile suit to face his Zaku II-J. "Cross the river and scout it out, P.J." "Ah, do I have to?" P.J. replied. "Yes," Rice-Ionesco answered. "Get." Captain James Farnsworth sat comfortably in his command chair, safely inside his Type 61 and not in the Congo rain. His eyes closed, he listen to the soothing tones of Richard Wagner's opera. He softly hummed along to the music, allowing him to escape from the boring nature of patrol duty. His armored squadron was setup on the southern banks of the swollen Congo River, entrenched behind piles of dirt that was quickly turning to mud. Not that it mattered much, Farnsworth thought. It wasn't as if there were any Zeeks about. Someone tapped his shoulder and he slowly opened his eyes, glaring at the face looking at him. "What," he snarled, taking off his headphones. "I'm listening to my damn Wagner." The driver, the young man who had awaken Farnsworth, looked terrified. "I think there's something on the other side of the river." "What is this nonsense?" Farnsworth asked. He shoved as best he could the driver aside and moved up to the forward view port. Adjusting his eyesight, he scanned back and forth along the northern bank of the Congo. "I don't see an-" he said, stopping abruptly when he spotted the large frame of a Zaku-model Zeon mobile suit trying to cross the river. "Oh Jesus," Farnsworth cursed aloud. "Charles," he called out to his radio operator. "Get the squadron on alert, we've got a Zeek contact." "Roger," the voice of Charles called out. "Alright gang," Farnsworth announced. "Let's pummel this sonofabitch." The crew of the Type 61 threw itself to work, quickly loading the two 150mm cannon that the tank sported. After a minute, Farnsworth looked around the turret, proud of how quickly his men put things in order and ready for battle. "Range?" he asked. "Range is good," one of the two gunners replied. "Fire!" P.J. struggled to control his Zaku II-J as it slowly crossed the Congo River. The river was swollen due to the nearly constant flooding of central Africa. Stupid fall rains, P.J. thought. Before he could react, he spotted two, all familiar belches of cannon fire coming from the far side of the river. One of the rounds, clearly from the diminutive Type 61, smashed into his right shoulder, exploding violently. The second shell sailed clear of his Zaku, landing deep in the forest behind him. "Type 61!" P.J. yelled into his radio. He throttled his Zaku to full speed, desperately trying to get out of the Congo River. "Get across the river," Rice-Ionesco ordered. On the south side of the river, Rice-Ionesco spotted more cannon fire and nearly a dozen rounds began landing in the river, surrounding his fellow Zaku. His Zaku Cannon strafed eastwards, getting clearance from his comrades, before opening up with its 180mm shoulder cannon. The Gouf began to cross the river at full speed as well, though it too was slowed down by the raging river. More shells from the Type 61s, Rice-Ionesco was sure that there were at least five, landed around the Zeon mobile suits. Powering his leg thrusters, Rice-Ionesco powered his Zaku II-G forward, clearing the Congo River in a single bound, landing close to one of the entrenched Type 61s. 120mm machinegun equipped, he opened up on the Type 61, annihilating it in a single burst. The explosion illuminated the darkening day. A moment later, another of the Federation tanks exploded violently as a shell from the Zaku Cannon impacted against the tank's turret. Nearly twenty yards eastward of his Zaku II-G, Rice-Ionesco spotted a third Type 61, its turret rotating towards him. He raised his machinegun and opened fire; the tank belched two more 150mm cannon shells at the same moment. One shell sailed past and into the Congo rain forest, and Rice-Ionesco was barely able to raise his right shoulder shield to attempt to block it. The explosion knocked his Zaku backwards, lightly damaging his right arm and shoulder. He quickly reoriented his mobile suit and noted that the tank was destroyed by his machinegun burst. "Shit," Farnsworth yelled, slamming his fists into the side of his Type 61's turret. He'd lost three of his tanks in a matter of moments to the Zeon force. He could not handle four enemy mobile suits. "Fall back," Farnsworth ordered. His driver throttled the tank backwards, exiting the entrenched positions of the 128th Armored. As his three remaining tanks retreated, Farnsworth shook his fist in the direcd the enemy. "I will have my revenge!" Eugene Rice-Ionesco: 7 VP, 1 Day Damaged The six Tin Cod's, arranged in a "V" formation, raced across Lake Victoria under the cloud cover. Rain poured from the heavy clouds, and it took all of the pilots' intense concentration to keep the formation together. "Why the hell are we out in this rain," complained one of the pilots. "Because," Amy Bauer-Meister, the squadron captain, replied, "We've had reports of Zeek inflitration of our battle lines near Lake Kwania. We have to make sure that they are contained." The pilot grumbled in resposne. None of the Tin Cod pilots were very pleased with flying in the horrible weather either. Bauer-Meister was sure that the weather was the primary reason the Zeeks were trying so hard to penetrate into Federation territory. The Desert Eagles, while far from the sandy dunes of East Africa, were going to do their job. The minutes passed as the formation swept northwards, towards Lake Kwania. As they passed over the Ugandan plains, Bauer-Meister leaned over the side of her cockpit, looking at the ground below. The land they flew over was a combination of mountain forests and subsitence agriculture. It was good country. She reflected over the beauty of the African highlands. "Contact" shouted one of the other pilots, jerking Bauer-Meister from her thoughts. "Where?" she asked "Northeast. Four eyeballs," the pilot replied. "Two Zaku models, a Dom model, and an officer model." "Alright chaps," Bauer-Meister announced. "Give me a minute to get on the horn with African Command, and then we'll bomb those bastards back to North Africa." Jennifer Morales sat quietly in the confines of her Gouf Custom's cockpit. The falling rain helped to obscure her and her three underlings from any potential Federation air patrol. She hoped, at any rate. The war effort had not gone her way, and it frustrated her immensely. Following behind Moraels was her MS team: Victoria Torrington, piloting a Zaku II-K, Gavin Mitchell, piloting an MS-09 Dom, and Ibrahim Il-Shahin, piloting, instead of his normal Gouf, a Zaku II-F. "Lieutenant Zur See," Il-Shashin called out calmly." "Yes, Ibrahim?" Morales asked, halting her suit. The other trio of mobile suits stopped. "I think I spotted an airplane," he replied. Il-Shashin hefted his 280mm Zaku Bazooka. "Federation?" Morales responded. "Yes, Ma'am," he said. "To the southwest." "Spread out," Morales ordered, preparing the 75mm gatling gun attached to her left arm. As her squad spread out, she spotted the pair of Tin Cods that Il-Shashin must have spotted. The Tin Cods dived downwards from the clouds nearly a quarter of a mile away, streaking towards Morales and her soldiers. "Incoming," she said calmly. She raised her gatling gun. The Tin Cods each released their missile payloads. "Fire!" Morales shouted as she opened up with her gatling gun, spraying bullets into the air, trying to anticipate the path of the Tin Cods. The enemy missiles rained in as she fired into the drizzling sky, the missiles striking the ground, sending showers of dirt into the air. Morales' burst missed the Tin Cod she had aimed at, as did the rest of her squad. The Tin Cods shot past at full speed over the heads of the mobile suits. Torrington managed to spin her Zaku II-K around and fire a burst from her 120mm machinegun, striking one of the Tin Cods. The Federation fighter craft violently exploded. "Woohoo!" Torrington yelled in glee. "Good shot," Morales replied. "Shit," Bauer-Meister said angrily. The first pass at the Zeon forces had resulted in one of her Tin Cods being destroyed. "Eagle 3, Eagle 4, take one more pass. That should keep them held up until the 24th MS Team arrives." "Roger," replied both pilots simatemously. The two fighters peeled off and dived downwards. Streaking through the rain, the Tin Cods opened fire on the Zeon mobile suits, firing missiles and engaging with their mounted 25mm machineguns. Their missiles mostly missed, while the rest were dodged by the suits below. The Zeon soldiers were ready this time, returning fire with bazookas and machineguns. The two Tin Cods barely evaded the returning fire and returned to a respectable altitude. "Damnit," one of the pilots announced. "These guys are too focused on us. Where the hell are those damnfangled GMs?" The three GM Ground Types maneuvered through the slog, mud, and dirt of the Ugandan highlands. Jerek Manthson, the warrant officer in charge of the 24th MS Team, grunted as he pushed his Ground Type forward. He hated the rain. He hated the mud. And most of all, he hated Uganda. "Hey, slackers," he said over his radio, "Slackers in the Type 74." "What?" came the annoyed voice of the Type 74's commander. "Where the hell are those eyeballs we're after? The Desert Eagles said they'd be around here somewhere," Manthson asked. An audiable sigh came over the radio. "I'm still looking for them," the man grunted. There was a pause. "Wait." "What?" Manthson asked. "I think I've got something," the Type 74 commander replied. "Yeah, I got them. Three suits, northeast of here. They're all in one location. Can't get a reading on the Dom if there is one." "There's one," Manthson replied. "Move out, boys," he said to his pilots. Several minutes passed by as the four Zeon mobile suits watched the skies. Morales breathed slowly. "We can't have possibly driven them off," she said. "I wouldn't be so sure," Mitchell replied. "We can be pretty terrifying." Morales rolled her eyes. She scanned the sky, focusing on the southwest. Suddenly, three bursts of flame appeared from that direction. "Incoming fire!" she shouted as three bazooka rounds landed amongst the four suits. Her pilots scattered and maneuvered towards the source of the incoming fire. Moving at full speed, Morales quickly saw the new source of enemy fire: a trio of GM Ground Types. As she moved forward, she raised her 75mm gatling gun and opened fire at the neareast, letting out a long burst of gatling rounds. The bullets pinged off the Ground Type's armor harmlessly. The enemy suits opened up with more bazooka rounds, one striking Torrington's Zaku Cannon. Both sides began maneuvering, firing with all their weapons at each other. Morales strafed to her left, firing with more feroisty with her 75mm gatling gun. Her bullets continued to bounce uselessly off its lunar titanium armor. As she closed in with the Ground Type, the enemy suit fired another bazooka round, which she was able to dodge easily. Before she could move in closer, the ground in front of her exploded skywards. A pair of Tin Cods screached overhead, firing their 25mm machineguns and peppering the Zeon suits with bullets. A trio of Tin Cods streaked from the north, loosing their missiles. A pair of missiles struck against Il-Shashin's Zaku II-F, disabling the suit's right arm. Morales, backpeddling from the incoming ariel fire, was suddenly struck by one of the Ground Type's 305mm bazooka rounds, exploding against the Gouf Custom's torso, heavily damaging the suit. "shit," she yelled. Taking a quick glance, the tactical situation was bleak: the skies were dominated by at least five expierenced Tin Cods and three GM Ground Types were bombarding her and her comrades with bazooka rounds. "Shit," she cursed again, "Fall back. Victora, Gavin, cover Ibrahim. I'll cover the air." The Zeon mobile suits quickly retreated in a northeasterly direciton. |