|
You know, they say that red is the color of midlife crises, and if Derek Carter was having his midlife crisis, there would be no better Ferrari than a Mobile Suit. And as he has a Mobile Suit, it's fitting to find him in his hot-rod red robot out and about performing Mobile Suit related activities and duties befitting of an Earth Federation Space Forces pilot. In this case, the term "activities and duties" refers to sparring against a superior officer, a new guy, one he doesn't know too well-- Patrick Foley, or something. Lieutenant Patrick Foley. Look, sometimes omniscient narrators have an off day too. Not too far from Derek, and as is always the case in spars, his sparring partner, that memorable Lieutenant Foley was in his GM Command, heading towards the Guncannon. The Mass Production Type was an interesting revision on the prototype, but it kept the Guncannon's colorscheme, the comparitively vibrant red, and red means one of two things in space. The first is a fact that not many pilots, and indeed, not many civilians in this year of 0079 in the Universal Century may know, a phenomenon known as "r- well, no one cares about that, so on to the second reason: You like being a target, or you've got a rather flambouyant personality. I know it seems like two reasons, but stay with me here. Regardless of Seaman Carter's flambouyancy or crisis of the midlife variety, the GM Command was well equipped for the job: a 90 milimeter machine gun, a spartan shield, and some grenades the size of a large dog or small child. The lattermost of which, Mister Foley had woefully forgotten about, woefully for the fact that they'd be useful right about... now, when a beam shot passed by his Mobile Suit's head. Oh, if only he had remembered his dummy grenades. A few more pink plasmic packages plummeted perilously perpendicularly to the GM's line of travel, due to the fact that the big red target, which was, unfortunately, not as big as Lieutenant Foley had hoped it'd be at this point, was moving quickly around to circle the GM, intending to unload some good ol' Howitzer Justice down the Command Type's line of travel. Howitzer Justice was an interesting name some mechanics, especially a few Texas Colony workers gave to giant ammunition, and even though many of them were not technically Howitzer artillery shells, the name Howitzer Justice had caught on due to a man named Justice Howitzer, who emigrated to Texas Colony near after its construction finished from the Texas on Earth. Oh, and then the 200mm paint rounds hit. Really hard. Foley's GM shook as the paint rounds hit true, one bashing against the cockpit, and one to his shield. His shield was ripped from his hand, and due to his velocity at that time, the shield had anything but a small amount of momentum. It careened from his hand into the direction of deep space, and as Lieutenant Foley said a silent goodbye for the poor shield, he hoped a little that it may someday hit a Zeon ship at speed. Oh yes, that would be worth getting hit by two rounds from the Guncannon. At least, it would soothe the pain, slightly. Then again, he considered, maybe the new paint willl COMMAND attention. Derek Carter: 5VP gained, Repairing 1-1 Patrick Foley: 3VP gained, Repairing 2-1 Three Zeon mobile suits moved slowly through the remains of several ships destroyed during the capture of the Gwazine. Eventually the trio, led by Seaman DeGrau's Prototype Gelgoog, came to a halt. DeGrau turned his machine to face the other two and spoke. "This should be far enough. Alright, time for some combat training, double check your paint ammo and split up, the match begins in fifty seconds." He said, immediately boosting out of sight. "Is he serious?" Emil asked, only to find that Yoritomo Naizen's Action Zaku was also gone. Before he could think to move, a large piece of what looked like the Kira Yamato's hull drifted over his Rick Dom, concealing it. "Maybe I'll just stay in here a sec..." Elsewhere the paint battle raged between the Prototype Gelgoog and Action Zaku. The Gelgoog was fast, but the magnetic coating of the high-end Zaku helped it fight on equal footing. Ducking and weaving between blasted out husks of ships, neither could get a clean shot. "...He's good, and that suit's no slouch either..." "I can't take this match lightly, that Geloog is fierce..." "They've... completely... forgotten..." Emil muttered to himself. The debris of the Yamato drifting away and revealing his machine once more. "Can't hit me with those moves!" DeGrau shouted. "Says the man who can't even lock on to my Zaku!" Yoritomo replied. "I can't believe they forgot I'm out here!" Emil shouted, startling the other pilots. "Who was that?" DeGrau thought aloud, just as he recalled the third pilot in the group, a spray of paintballs struck home on his Gelgoog, giving the appearance of a large purple gash. "WHAT!? SERIOUSLY? I don't believe this." He said in annoyance, falling victim to a simple distraction. "That's just how it goes." Yoritomo said, taking aim at the Rick Dom. "As for you, I didn't forget, but you didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to take us on." He said pulling the trigger. *CLICK* "..." *CLICK**CLICK**CLICK* "How ironic, but don't think you'll get an easy victory." Yoritomo spoke as he tossed aside the empty bullpop gun and pulled out his heat hawk and rushed the motionless Dom. Still muttering about being forgotten, Emil finally drew his weapon, aiming the 360mm giant bazooka at the oncoming Action Zaku. "Wait a second! Do they even make paintballs for that!?" Yoritomo shouted, panicking and trying to reverse course as he sped toward his sparring partner. If one could hear in space, a very comical 'SPLAT!' would be heard as a massive paint round burst nearly point blank into the Action Zaku's monoeye. The blinded and now pink machine blundered right into the Rick Dom, and the mock battle was over. Caleb Degrau: 3 VP Gained, Repairing 1 Emil Myberg: 5 VP Gained, Repairing 1 Yoritomo Naizen: 4 VP Gained, Repairing 1  Things are quiet in the fortified asteroid base of Luna II. Deep near its core, a trio of Federal guards smoked cigarettes around a game of poker. They are fighting boredom as hard as they [supposedly] would fight the Zeon forces if they ever meet them. One of them grew impatient, and slam his cards on the table. "Where the hell did Danny go?" "His turn to feed the prisoner," muttered one of the guards," I did his lunch and Bob here gave him his breakfast." "Don't worry about it sarge," reassured Bob," it'll only take, like, five minutes and Danny can finish his hand." "It's been TWENTY minutes already, you idiots." The sergeant grabbed his rifle and got up. "I'm going to have a look." The two guard still seated at the table just shook their heads and took another drag on their cigarettes. Then came the sound of running feet and excited shouting. They knocked over their chairs as they leaped to their feet grabbing their rifles. For the first time in his life, 2nd Lieutenant Wu Jinyuan fully appreciated the time he spent listening to bullshit presentations from subcontractors. The CMC has a fairly predictable philosphy when it comes to interior layouts, plus it was nice of the Federal garrison to post floor directories at every elevator junction. He crouched outside the door to the base's communications room, waiting for the cue he knew was coming. Just as Jinyuan calculated, the base's alarm rang complete with klaxxons and everything. He kicked the door open, catching the radio crewman in that five seconds of confusion everyone expriences when an alarm goes off. The Federal assault rifle in Jinyuan's hands blew away the few Federal specialists before the last one raised a pistol. Before Jinyuan can cut the Federal soldier down, a pistol round struck him in the left shoulder. He feel to the floor gasping but still concious. Using his legs, Jinyuan kicks the door to the radio room shut and with a bloody hand locked it. Elsewhere the news of the prisoner's escape had caused pandamonium in Luna II's command center. "Check for any Zeon activity outside our perimeter!" an officer ordered," alert the defense fleet, this may be a coordinated action!" Admiral Wakkein stood near his command chair. "Where is the prisoner now?" "He is last seen in cooridor 12-C." "Is the Admiral trying to be a peeping tom on me?" Heads turn as the voice spoke over the base's intercom. On of the center's officers picked up a microphone to direct the Marine squads towards the source of the transmission. Admiral Wakkein picked up a microphone himself. The longer he keeps the prisoner talking the more time the Federal soldiers will have to surround and recapture Jinyuan. "Did you really think you can escape from here?" "Escape? You are so simplistic, Admiral. Have you get that checked out with your doctor? You know, when he's not shoving a finger up your prostate." Wakkein's hand gripped the microphone harder. "I can only promise you that I won't kill you. I'll amputate your legs so you can't attempt to escape again." "Admiral, I would be able to do more with my stump than you can do with your whole body." Outside the radio room Wu Jinyuan is in, Federal Marines tested the door. Finding it locked, they start to appy explosive charge to blow the door in. "You got a loud mouth for someone who is only going to see a eight by six room for the rest of his life." "You know what's your problem Admiral? Lupus. It's always lupus. It's probably why you are here and not fighting on the frontlines." That did it. Wakkein threw down the microphone and jabbed a finger at his aide. "KILL HIM. NOW!" The door to the radio room blew open in a loud explosion. But as the dust settled, the first Marine to go inside the door is cut down by Wu Jinyuan's rifle. Two more Marines are hit before they are dragged away. Finally fragmentation grenades are thrown inside the packed room, throwing up another cloud of dust and debris. All is silent as the Marines dashed inside the room. Equipment sparked and screens crackled with static as they ran up to the dead body on the far wall. As they checked Wu Jinyuan's body for life signs, another Marine looked over at the computer console the Zeon officer was at. "DAMN! He was transmitting something!" Back at the command center, Wakkein heard the news. "What do you mean he was transmitting?" "A burst of laser communications went out before the Marines stormed the room." "Where was it headed?" A pause. "Side 3, sir." Wakkein punched his chair in anger. "Do we know what the transmission was about?" The aide shook his head. "Well, then find OUT what that scum broadcasted!" Wu Jinyuan - 2 CP gained, Killed in Action Fierte Arluin - 1 VP Gained, No Damage Rachel Arronax - 1 VP Gained, No Damage Marc Simmons - 1 VP Gained, No Damage Otaktai Lone Wolf - 1 VP Gained, No Damage "Eagle 1, this is Eagle 2, target is just over the horizon, scanners are showing minimal activity." "Roger that Eagle 2, proceed with caution, clear the way for Ms. Adeline..." The squad of Gunships sped across the dunes of the Moroccan desert, sand whipping up in small twisters as they made their way toward the African Union base. Their target was the ruins of the Duchy's former RF-2 mine; The terrorists had long since converted the wasteland into their makeshift head quarters and began housing refugees among the still standing structures. Civilians looked towards the setting sun as dusk began to creep over the Kayla camp, everyone had stopped in their tracks as the winds carried the distinct sound of choppers across the plains. Looks of panic spread through out the crowd as women, children and the few men of the group began grabbing their belonging and began to make their exit. "I think not..." The gunner of Eagle 1 grinned sadistically, the silver Schuzstaffel tags on his collar gleaming in the final rays of sun before he opened fire. All hell broke loose as three Gunships fanned out amongst the ruins, the fire from their turrets lighting up the evening sky, spotlines scanning the area for any hiding refugees. "Aaaaaah!" Screams could be heard as they mowed down the refugees indiscriminately; blood bathed the decrepit buildings as child, woman and man alike fell. "This is so much fun." "Look at what I can do!" "Wheee!" The Dom went spinning across the desert in front of Rose's Gouf Custom, causing the Schuzstaffel agent to shake her head in disbelief. Before she could look back up Rhin had already brought the dom full circle back to Rose's left hand side. "So when do we get to meet this Brennan guy?!" Rhin asked aloud, using her suit's unique hover capabilities to entertain herself, and at same time, annoy the hell out of Rose. The newtype's eyebrow began to twitch angrily as she sighed. "In due time... now calm down, we're almost there." Rose spoke sternly as she used her thrusters to boost jump over a ridge. Her suit came crashing down in the sand, sliding down the otherside of the dunes just on the outskirts of Kayla. "They sure clean up nicely." Rose's lips curled into an evil smirk as she watched the Marines securing the compound, gathering any survivors still within the compound and shoving them into the back of the Weasel transports. "Nicely indeed..." She turned her head to see the Gunships scanning the dunes south of the base for any one that had escaped. Rhin stared blankly at the mess in front of them and was speechless. The young girl wasn't quite sure what to make of the scene, but as soon as she saw her boss mobilize, she followed suit as the Gouf Custom made its way to the center of the base. Before Rhin could even think to utter another word, Rose popped the cockpit door open and scaled down to the ground. The moonlight reflected off her form fitting black leather pilot suit, the silver schuzstaffel ensignia shimmering as she moved. The blonde newtype produced a flag and planted it in the center of the compound. Rose Adeline: 1 VP Gained, No Damage |