|
Eric Kyrion's Gouf stands on the bridge of the U-996, poking its heat sword at it. Eric Kyrion - 10 VP gained, 3-1 days damage Laurent Auclair - 8 VP gained, severely damaged He had no real motive, no guideline or purpose. He was alone, quarantined within his cramped mechanical prosthesis. He contemplated opening the hatch and venting the cabin, but that wouldn't do---there would no luminosity, or brilliant enveloping light to ascend him to other plain. What he needed was fire. A lot of the stuff. Enough fire to turn the shit blackness around him into a brilliant white eyeball with violent red irises. This would be his magnum opus, his gift to the cosmos---but his normal suit began to chafe and lost all interest in the matter. The Dom lurched slightly, a small piece of the moon's influence reached out and staked claim. Who knew that such flaunted, petty forces were at play in such galactic affairs. Sometimes one forgot such niceties, and let opposing or equal forces run completely unchecked. I have a day's worth of rations. Where did those other five go? Regen looked over his survival pack, Yes! Rehydrated meat!. He ate meticulously, but with an abandon that placed him among the surreal. His bangs bobbed surreptitiously like fangs. He cared little for appearance, yet, for him, appearance was everything. Minovsky Particles are scattered somewhere, and Regen grins maliciously. He can sense something - someone - despite his gnawing headache. This person held great power, and exuded and alarming amount of pressure. An ambush, how quaint. The homely Dom Psychommu Test Type aimed its mono-eye upwards and discovered the source. Mobile suits, white in complexion, raced toward him in earnest. Behind them, in a motley configuration, sat a Federation transport and a Salamis battleship. Wave after wave of needle-looking specks poured out of the transport, bringing up the rear. They were clearly wished to take him by force, or else they would have broadcast, or signaled, some sort of surrender order. He would not be taken alive, not like those sobs he'd heard about. "The bastards new we were coming again," complained David Renault. "Are all the Zeeks intuitive freak shows?" To his left, the GM Juggler makes a figurative gesutre. Dani Jhouy purses his lips. "Quiet down, Night terror. This is a simple sweep. Let's fry this peon and get home in time for the night shift. There's this girl I've been meaning to talk to." Renault doesn't respond. He struck first, firing payload after payload of giant bazooka rounds at the approaching GM formation. They dodged left and right, as expected, leaving modest hole in between. He shot for that hole. And missed. The lead GM, most obviously the alpha male of the pack, didn't seem impressed by the ad libbed stunt. Though it looked bulky under its extra layer of armor, it removed a full leg section of the Dom as though it were butchering an animal. As this occurred, the Albrecht brought the giant bazooka up and smashed the GM prototype in the face. The Dom began to spin, yet, somehow, it was still headed on a haphazard trajectory towards the incoming Saberfish wing. The pilots had not planned for such ferocity, especially not in the face of a single enemy. The GM's looked on helplessly, trying to follow the target with their 90mm machine guns – but it was to no avail. The onslaught only acted as the match that would set the scene ablaze. As Albrecht reached the first Saberfish, he laughed whole-heartedly. ”Such PETTY CATTLE I face this day, and to WHAT END will it all simply st---” His last words are muffled as a 90mm round pierced his Dom's reactor, setting off a nuclear chain reaction. The massive wing of Saberfish capitulated and are absorbed into the massive, white eyeball. Arcaile Nasr - 4 VP gained, no damage Dani Jhouty - 4 VP gained, 1 days damage David Renault - 4 VP gained, no damage Candice Ro - 4 VP gained, no damage Albrecht Regen - 8 VP gained, killed in action Trudging through the South African savannah, annoyed as their Zakus sink into the mud, unable to make anything close to an optimum speed even in relatively flat ground, Howe shook his head. Eugene's MS-06G was next to him, Eugene himself feeling very... useless. Five Medeas soared over their heads, twenty thousand feet in the air. They were unable to target them, the bright yellow aircraft being mere stars pinging off the African sun. "How are we supposed to attack these things... They never land." Sighed Howe, amazed at this blatant oversight by command. Their MS team fired a few shots into the air with their machineguns, but there was no misconception that any rounds would actually hit. The fleet soared through the sky, and was eventually out of reach, only landing for a short time to refuel at the heavily defended mountain base of Kilimanjaro. Ross Howe - 2 VP gained, no damage Eugene Rice-Ionesco - 2 VP gained, no damage |