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Malak Lazarevich cursed as the looming shapes of a Zeon patrol group started moving toward him in his GM Sniper II. He had intended to fly under the radar, but by the looks of things, it wasn't going to be that easy. Well, there was no running away, now. The mobile suits, led by a strange-looking Dom, had blocked off his access to the nearest patch of South African jungle, and the open ocean offered no cover whatsoever. He would have to do one of the things he was least fond of: Fight out in the open. The fact that killing was one of his most favorite things made it a lot easier. Bracing himself against one of the rocks dotting the South African shore, he took aim with the GM Sniper II Rifle, and one of the Zaku II D-types fell as the heavy round struck it full-on in the chest. One down, three to go. The enemies, realizing their enemy had a long range weapon, began to weave in their approach, spreading out to ensure that none of them was hit by a stray bullet. Unfortunately, one of the pilots was weaving in a regular sinusoidal pattern. Hitting moving targets was part of sniper 101, and Malak had cheated his way through every class with flying colors. A target that was simply oscillating was just a little more difficult to hit than a stationary one. The other Zaku II-D tumbled across the sand. All too soon, the strange-looking Dom was upon him, or at least, the first shot from its giant bazooka was. Malak jumped out of the way, twisting as he did to replace the sniper rifle on one of his hardpacks, drawing his regular beam rifle, and squeezing off a few shots to put his enemy off-balance. He sent his enemy diving for cover, while he took up a defensive position behind one of the rocks on the beach. Another bazooka round hammered at his cover, and he realized his shelter was disappearing. Cursing again, he took his mobile suit into the air with a terrific jump that sent him at least 100 feet up into the air. One of his opponents was surprised, and the other, not so much. He nailed the surprised one with a shot from his beam rifle, taking several 105mm machine gun rounds to chest in return. He saw the bazooka round streaking toward him, but there was little he could do. He fired his beam rifle twice in rapid succession, which was enough to push him backward, away from the brunt of the blast. It wasn't enough. He extended his machine's right arm, sacrificing it to save his machine. The titanium/ceramic composite would never be able to handle a shot like that from that range. When the smoke had cleared, Malak was still alive. Even better, he was in the jungle, running away as fast as his GM Sniper II's legs could carry him. He was in no shape to kill that strange-looking Dom right now. His right arm hung in stringy ruins from an empty socket, but he had sacrificed it in favor of his legs, which could not fight as well, but were infinitely better for running away. Back on the beach, Roy Greenwood marveled at the ruin that a lone pilot had wrought on his prized patrol unit. Only one of the units had sustained repairable damage; the others had been completely destroyed. He pulled the lightly-damaged Dom Tropical Test Type to its feet, from behind the rock he'd been using as cover, and peered into the jungle where his quarry must have disappeared. There would be no chase today, but if luck was with him, he'd see the pilot again before the war was over. Malak Lazarevich: 3 VP Gained, Repairing 3 |