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Evander paced the bridge of the Salamis-Revised class Revenant. Anxious was not the right word to describe him; restless was better. He could feel the impending bloodshed, and it thrilled him. Waiting for it to happen was the difficult part, and the promise of battle was the only thing that kept him from yelling in rage, or murdering a crew member who looked at him the wrong way. He'd done things like that before, and he wouldn't hesitate to do it again. All this dancing about that fleets did in space was bull crap, as far as Creed was concerned. Why waste time with tactics when war was still, and always had been, a numbers game. It was all about who had more power, and who didn't hesitate to use it. Creed never hesitated. Abruptly, he stopped pacing, and turned to face his crew. "We fight. Now." The combined might of the BOLLOCKS fleet, brought together by Patrick Foley, nurtured by the blood of thousands of soldiers, and the Federation's pride and joy in space, deployed. GMs poured from the hangars, filling the space in front of the Federation ships, while Balls took their places among them. Pilots kissed pictures of their wives, children and girlfriends before putting their helmets on. Some men prayed. Evander laughed. This was going to be fun. Veronica Wu scanned the forward monitor closely, looking for the trap that was almost certainly there. She couldn't find it, but she could make them pay for it. "Bring the ships around. Fire our long-range weaponry at them. We will cut most of them to ribbons before they reach us." It was too early to smile. It was almost always to early to smile - or too late - for Veronica Wu. There was simply too much to keep track of, too much to plan, too many failures mixed in with the successes. And she could not judge whether they were headed for defeat or victory until their enemy had played his full hand. Scores of megaparticle beams lanced through the empty space between the two large fleets, as the Zeon ships turned on their axes to meet the threat from below. The Lycan and Cyclops were vaporized almost immediately as a result of the concentrated fire. Hardly anyone noticed the unlucky GM and solitary Saberfish caught in the flurry of beams. Their squads' cries of grief, surprise and resolve were eaten up by the M-particle interference. The speed at which the Federation fleet was advancing would be mind-boggling to any normal Earthling, but it seemed a crawl to the ship captains. Staying in formation in the face of such a fearsome enemy was difficult, and required intense discipline. Still, there was not a brow not covered in sweat in the entire fleet. Even Nacho Quintal, usually aloof in his tactical considerations, was nervous. Creed was more fevered than nervous, but even he was sweating. He barely noticed the disappearance of the Cerberus, and the Bolero disappeared in a fire that escaped him completely. He cared only for his chance to kill, and the Revenant was quickly entering the Salamis Revised's firing range. "Fire!" He yelled it viciously. Repeatedly. Triumphantly. Explosions blossomed on the hulls of a dozen ships at once, as the fleets finally closed the gap between them. Saberfish, GMs, Zakus, Rick Doms swarmed around them, fighting for superiority of the space between them. Of course, there were more interesting fish in the sea, Richard Banks and his Marine Gelgoog among them. He was almost always the first to the front lines, and this battle was no exception. The rows of Federation ships made excellent targets, and his twin 110mm cannons thundered through the legs of a GM on their way to the Dragon. It turned, to avoid the fire, but it was not quick enough - not nearly - to avoid Banks' high performance mobile suit. He banked right as an enemy GM fired at him with its beam spray gun, keeping up the bead of cannon fire on the ship until it could take no more. Then, he turned his attention to the GM. Small fry. Junichi Ghettid saw the Federation ship explode, and smiled. He was the only one having as much fun as Evander Creed. He could almost smell the blood in the air as he tore through an entire squad of GMs with his Kämpfer; he began with a shot from his giant bazooka, aimed at the squad's center, to scatter them. He replaced the weapon onto the backpack rack and grabbed the suit's Jagdgewehr shotgun in one fluid motion, emptying most of its cartridge into the 3 closest GMs, shredding through their cockpits, either killing the pilots instantly, or exposing them to the vaccum of space, disabling them. Still holding the shotgun in one hand, he pulled out a beam saber. The GM dodged his initial slice only to be cut to ribbons by the close-range shot. The last swung around in an attempt to flank him, doing its best to avoid the shotgun's fire, but Ghettid replaced the shotgun back in its rack, and drew another beam saber. The poor GM never had a chance, and when Ghettid turned his focus to the next group, it was sliced neatly into 4 pieces. This was why he loved war. Yoritomo Naizen was also doing his best, but where Ghettid looked for quantity, Naizen sought quality. Alas, there was little to be had in the Federation mobile suit pilots, as far as he could tell. Where was an opponent worthy of his focus? The Act Zaku moved fluidly through the battlefield, its magnetically-loosened joints moving responsively to Naizen's practiced control. There. A GM fought well against two talented Zakus, dispatching them both before moving forward, out of the line of the ships' fire. You will have to do. The two mobile suits traded shots with their beam weapons, but the GM's beam spray gun was not match for The Act Zaku's beam rifle, and the pilot knew it. Naizen watched as the GM drew its beam saber, and streaked toward him. The approach was predictable, and Naizen saw through the two feints perfectly, and slashed through the mobile suit's middle with his heat hawk, as the beam saber passed inches from his machine's right shoulder, melting through the outer armor, but doing no major damage. It had been interesting, but not quite fulfilling. He searched the battlefield for another worthy of his skill. Anya Wilds in her Gelgoog had found one - or rather, many of them. She was rather inexperienced, compared to most of the other pilots, but working in tandem with Kenshiro Imawano in his Bigro, the two had managed to advance enough to allow the Bigro to use its gigantic cannon - if Anya could keep the GMs off their backs long enough for him to line up a decent shot. Dodging back and forth from beams sent at it from a talented GM Command pilot kept Imawano from firing, and it was frustrating. He had already discharged all his missiles, trying to get the mobile suit off his back, but to no avail; the assault continued. He almost sighed in relief once Anya and her Gelgoog finally took it out. His Bigro couldn't afford to waste this shot. It didn't, and Shepard's Watch exploded as the powerful megaparticle beam lanced through its middle, melting through the thick armor, silencing its guns and crew in little more than seconds. Florian Cuyler was mostly unimpressed. He might not have a beam that big on his Perfect Zeong, but he had more of them. Hell, he had more beam weapons than some battleships. And he was much more dangerous. Two GMs fell simultaneously from beams from his fingers, and Florian idly wondered if this was what Zeus felt like, dealing with silly mortals. The megaparticle cannons on his chest thundered at the same time as the one on his machine's head, and the Athos was destroyed. Florian laughed. Even Zeus never had this much power. It was almost too easy - like Godzilla stomping through a village of cavemen. He was just following orders, but he was enjoying it. But the Federation's fleet had not taken any punishment lying down. Several of the Zeon ships had been heavily damaged by the brash assault, and the horde of GMs had managed to destroy many of the Duchy's mobile suits, and one of the ships that they had been protecting. An important one. Veronica Wu's emerging smile, on realizing that there was no trap, had fallen flat as the Lucifer's Fury, already crippled from the beam salvos it had endured, was cut to ribbons by a squad of GMs with beam sabers. Watching Ghettid chew them to pieces did little to ease her pain. Vengeance, she understood, and fighting for the honor and memory of those lost, but she could not forget Captain Aleksandra "Sasha" Beria and Dmitry "Dima" Balaganov so easily. Briefly, images of the two flashed through her brain, both smiling - well, Beria's was more of a smirk. "It seems that you are finally sole commander of our fleet, Wu. It seems I cannot outlast all of you. Give 'em hell." Beria smirked again, and then was gone, replaced by Dima. "Remember what being a commander is all about, Wu. You are the fleet's backbone, and the fleet must not break." And then, there was silence. Veronica Wu continued to give orders, shaken in spirit, but firm in her resolve. "Yeeeeee-haw!" Ray Walker was enjoying his first outing with the ZEF in style, hanging comfortably back with the bulk of the fleet, away from the enemy's AA fire. His Gattle was well-broken, and accustomed to his gentle touch, but it just couldn't skeedaddle away from AA fire quickly enough. Instead, he coralled any enemys that managed to make it past the lines of Zakus and ZEF aces. Somehow, a couple Federation Balls had drifted through space over to his side, and they attracted the young ace's attention. He considered something to the effect of "This town ain't big enough for the two of you," but considering it was space, it just didn't seem appropriate. Instead, he just shot them with rockets whilst humming "Rawhide." A space cowboy had to make do, sometimes. Meanwhile, Caleb DeGrau had finally made it past most of GMs, and was lining up a shot on the Athos, when he noticed a line of AA fire tracking his way. Knowing that he would not escape their notice any longer, he decided that he had to act then and there. Thrusting upward, he felt the heavy rounds cut into the bottoms of his mobile suit's legs - but it didn't matter. He shouldered the large anti-battleship beam cannon with his massive Gelgoog, and let loose with the explosive power of a Musai's deck gun. The space around him lit up for a moment, and when the darkness had returned, it had swallowed most of the Athos. Meanwhile, Olivia Baklitskaia, or "The Crimson Flasher," as she was known by a few, was doing her best to fend off the persistent fire from the GMs, while avoiding falling victim to the still-considerable volleys of AA fire from the Federation ships. Kicking a GM aside, she thanked her lucky stars that she wasn't injured like that Myberg kid, and dove into an undefended nook of the Campe, another of the Federation's Salamis Kais. When she met no mobile suit resistance, she just put a beam saber through the unfortunate ship. The explosion felt nice, so she stabbed it again. And again. She stopped when she realized that she was stabbing pieces of twisted hull. Creed was not entirely pleased, nor entirely disappointed. Things had gone poorly quickly, and they had to get the hell out of there. The only killing that was going to be done now was by the ZEF, and he preferred to be on the other side of the killing. He surveyed the ships he had remaining, and chose one to cover his escape. Sacrifices were part of war, and this one wouldn't be in vain. Nacho Quintal received the orders grim-faced, and relayed them to his crew. He didn't explain - he never did - but his crew obeyed, trusting his judgement. As the Fuji turned to face the full force of the ZEF fleet, he thought of how ironic it was that his crew members, trusting him to get through another battle, were instead being sent to their deaths. Ironic, that a government supposedly committed to peace and saving lives would order one of its battleships to certain doom. Tragic that he, a man of visionary art, would die in space, fighting a war that he couldn't quite rationalize. War was not beautiful, but it was meaningful, and often, that was enough for great art. His last thoughts as the Fuji fell under heavy fire, were of the symmetry of the beams cutting his ship to pieces. They were almost beautiful. Richard... The Campe, Charon and two Publics fell almost simultaneously, as the Richmond, Revenant and Duke flew away from the carnage of the battle. The ZEF did not pursue. Veronica Wu never pressed her advantage to her disadvantage, and after a few days of repairs, their fleet would be as good as new. The same could not be said of the Federation fleet - or of the Lucifer's Fury, she remembered grimly. Both fleets had lost more than half their complement of mobile suits, she estimated. Their victory had been great, but like many great victories, it had come at a high cost. Was there a cost too high for a victory won? Veronica Wu did not know, but she was fairly certain that Sunny Wu and Wu Jinyuan would approve of her actions here today. And so would the Duchy. Caleb DeGrau: 7/2 VP Gained, Repairing +3, Promoted to Petty Officer 1st Class Kenshiro Imawano: 9 VP Gained, Repairing 4, Promoted to Petty Officer 2nd Class Olivia Baklitskaia: 9 VP Gained, Repairing 3, Promoted to Officer Candidate Ray Walker: 8/2 VP Gained, Repairing 4, Promoted to Lieutenant Jr. Grade Richard Banks: 8 VP Gained, Repairing 5, Promoted to Lieutenant Commander Anya Wilds: 9 VP Gained, Repairing 4, Promoted to Flight Sergeant Felix Mendahlson: 7 VP Gained, Repairing 3, Injured 1, Promoted to Sergeant Florian Cuyler: 7 VP Gained, Repairing 3, Injured 1, Promoted to Sergeant Veronica Wu: 8 VP Gained, No Damage, Promoted to Brigadier General, Expert Crew Specialization gained Yoritomo Naizen: 8 VP Gained, Repairing 5, Promoted to Private Emil Myberg: 1 VP Gained, No Additional Damage, Promoted to Sergeant Junichi Ghettid: 8 VP Gained, Repairing 4, Promoted to Hauptscharführer Evander Creed: 6 VP Gained, No Damage Nacho Quintal: 6 VP Gained, Killed in Action The Zeon forces had been beaten back from Jaburo yet again, yet were staunch in their resolve. Their orders were to take Jaburo, or reduce it to rubble, and all of them were committed to the cause. Tony Knight and Gilgamos Uruk were discussing the offensive over a drink, and Gil Krundle had somehow weasled his way into their company as well, and was pushing his ideas as for how to get his gargantuan mobile suit into a position where it could hurt the turtled Federation. Unfortunately, he was already too drunk to be of much help, tactically. "We could fire our cannons and machine guns and other guns to make the river deeper! It's connected to the ocean, and the water will flow into the space that we shoot out! Then, I can widen the tunnel, pilot my Grabro into the heart of Jaburo, and we'll be completely unstoppable!" Useless for tactics; useful for entertainment. Knight and Uruk laughed, and continued their revelry. Morale was an important part of the military, and Krundle was helping where he was able, in this case. Haifa had gone almost straight for her GM command after she'd given her report of her captivity to her superiors. The controls felt good in her hands, and it was good to be in control of something, after having spent so long under the command of others. Revenge would be sweet. She knew that the Federation had some good pilots in Jaburo, still, but she doubted that they'd be a match for her, one-on-one in her machine. She flexed her forearms as she gripped the controls, closed her eyes, and imagined her victory meal. The German food was going to taste so good. Esther MacKernan was supervising repairs on her mobile suit, sharing the space with Gai Kaiser and Akira Sasaki, when two loud thunderclaps rang into the night. The Zeon camp erupted in shouts, and the three scrambled out of the hangar to see what was the matter. Was the Federation counterattacking?! Were there marines in the base?! Should they get back into their mobile suits?! The truth came out slowly: Some Zeon privates had decided it would be fun to have a bonfire on the thick armor of the Samson - which normally would have been okay, if strictly against military protocol, if not for the vigilance of Jaburo's Howitzer cannon teams, which had lit up their target almost immediately after the bonfire had been started with the Zeon-provided targeting data. It was a shame that the fools were not alive to regret their oversight. Marina reached for another folder, and pulled out her new orders, again stamped with the same spider silhouette. Their actions were too out in the open for special ops, but the stamp had "secrecy" written all over it. Oh well. The orders were clear: Take Jaburo. If it cost them a few more mobile suits and ships, so be it. If it cost them human lives, so be it. It might cost the Federation the war, if they managed to secure Jaburo. And if Marina had it her way, they almost certainly would. She stared out over the camp, now dimly-lit, and began to plot. She did not stop for some time. Gilgamos Uruk: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Gil Krundle: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Alec Irusk: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Tony Knight: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Esther MacKernan: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Gai Kaiser: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Akira Sasaki: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Atra: Good evening, ladies, Gentlemen, Swedes, and Ketara to a special edition news broadcast live (in text) from Alexandria. I'm here today with the marginally active crew of the 87th Integrated fleet and astoudingly well equiped band of ragtag misfit followers from the African Union. Edmund Blackadder: Was that bit about marginally active entirely necessary? Atra: Hmm, you may be right, in some cases, I may have overstated a bit. Aisha Vemunio: ragtag? misfits? I take issue with that! Can't you put that any nicer? Atra: No, I'm not a nice person, and expecially not at 2am writing a second (bigger) event, while other people go drinking, return from Vegas, then go AWOL, or play copious amounts of Starcraft 2. And I don't even know what happened to Zepp. Scott Archer: Well, We had pretty good reasons. We all said they wouldn't be here prior to the update. Except for Zepp who tried to write, but wasn't allowed for some reason. And Starcraft 2 is pretty awesome. Atra: But you weren't even in chat when that happened! How would you know? Scott Archer: Newtype. Atra: But you aren't... I mean... AUGH! I hate you... Malak Lazarevich: I hate him too. Atra: I'm skipping the former impromptu turncoat and moving on. I'm supposed to be asking the questions here anyway. I'm the reporter. Where's Jim Irwin, I'll talk to him first. Edmund Blackadder: Well technically you- Atra: Shut up! Charles Gano: Irwin left just a little while ago on a flight to South Africa. Ata: South Africa?!? What the hell? You mean he wasn't even here for the battle he planned? And what possible strategic value could there be in sending a fleet of Medeas and a few tin cods to South Africa? Aaron McCaskey: Well- Atra: Nevermind, I defintely don't want to hear the answer from you. Cray Vermillion: Well, I guess that just leaves me then, since you talked to everyone else already. Thiery Mersault: Hey! What about me? Atra: Let's be honest dude, you're a glorified NPC, you've only posted once this year. And that was your profile. Thiery Mersault: :( Atra: You know what, nevermind, I don't want to know. This interview is over. I'll just write the real event tomorrow. Cut to commercial! The EF commander surveyed the area from the bridge of one of the Big Trays in the 87th Integrated Fleet with his binoculars. Thought he assault hadn't yet begun, smoke already filled the morning skies from the damage caused by several days worth of Federation shelling. Satisfied that his forces were suitably prepared to capture the city, the commander gave the orders. "Launch the fighters. I want air superiority gained and maintained immediately. As soon as that's accomplished, I want smoking craters where every major building used to stand. Have the mobile suit forces launch next. I don't want a single enemy mobile suit left standing. All forces advance!" Operators immediately began relaying orders to fighters and mobile suit pilots. Pilots scrambled all over, some making last minute adjustments, and other already launching. Scott Archer was among the first to launch. He had his core booster orbit a few times while he waited for the tin cods and fly mantas to all get airborne and form up before flying overhead Alexandria to accomplish their part of the mission. They were immediately greeted by Alexandria's own air force, consisting of twelve Dopps. With their superior numbers, the Federation pilots began to engage the Dopps with two to one ratios. Formations broke away as battle began. What was once organized now appeared to look more like a swarm of angry gnats from the ground. Scott Archer was just lining up his first kill, a Dopp who was trailing his wingman, when his sensors indicated a missile launch from the ground. Archer hastily fired, but didn't have time to confirm his kill. Instead he broke hard into the missile, hoping to force it to over-G itself. The missile couldn't adjust its trajectory in time and narrowly missed the core booster, exploding well past its target. "We're getting lit up by these missiles, wasn't the AU supposed to take care of this? Where are they?" Archer called over the radio. "We're looking into it, standby for further information." the radio operator responded. "Standby? You've got to be kidding me. This is-" Archer was cut off by a large explosion on the ground. One of the buildings had just gone up in flames, and now a few specks of what Archer could only assume were guerrillas were making a hasty retreat from the area. "Sorry we're late, bro. Targeting facility has been taken care of; those missiles should be easier to deal with now." "Bout freakin time." With the SAM's targeting abilities reduced, the Tin cods quickly gained the upper hand on the numerically inferior Dopps. As the last ones were being mopped up Depp Rogs rolled in to pound the base into submission with bombs, starting with the Anti-Air defenses. On the ground, the mobile suit forces had just finished launching and were now advancing into the city, making sure to keep good radio contact with the bombers to make sure they weren't also being bombed. The partially destroyed urban desert environment they were moving into was the perfect place for Zeon ambushes. Teams moved along in groups of three or four, trying hard to watch each other’s backs while seeking to ambush the enemy themselves. Charles Gano, Aaron McCaskey, Edmund Blackadder and Thierry Mersault formed one such team, with McCaskey leading them. "Don't you think it's a bit too quiet here? I mean, we're blowing up their base, you'd think we'd see something of them." Gano asked the rest of his team. "Maybe they're scared of us. We did blow the shit out of their base." Blackadder responded. "That must be it. They heard I was coming and ran off, scared of my leadership abilities and fighting prowess." McCaskey declared. Mersault thought for a moment. "No that can't be it, they're probably still here, just waiting for us over that ridge right there, if that's the case." The team laughed as they climbed the ridge. As they reached the peak, their laughter died immediately as a bazooka shell slammed into McCaskey's right shoulder, completely destroying the arm and parts of the torso and head. "EF Command, McCaskey Unit is being pinned by heavy fire. Request immediate support." Gano said quickly over the radio. The last of the forces were finally being deployed from the Big trays, and were acting more as a defense line for the huge land carriers at this point than anything. Reports were coming in of pockets of heavy resistance with both sides becoming entrenched in combat, unable to break the stalemate. Where is the AU, we need their support." The EF commander demanded. "We're unable to determine that at this point, sir, please standby." one of the operators responded. "We don't have that kind of time. We'll have to try a different tactic. Advance the Big Trays, one to each of the heavier pockets of resistance. And keep trying to get a hold of the AU." he commanded. Cray Vermillion received his new orders. The Big Tray Fury was advancing to support a mobile suit squad that had been pinned down, and Vermillion’s Type 61 tank was supposed to support it. "Perfect, playing support mission for a support mission." Vermillion said to himself. "What was that?" his tank driver, Ion Bossa-Nova asked from the driver's seat. "Nothing important." It wasn't long before the Fury arrived at the area in question. Firing its main guns, it destroyed a few of the Zaku defenders and effectively scattered the rest. The mobile suit team quickly began its pursuit, tracking down a now scattered force and eliminating it. Unfortunately, a couple of the more crafty Zakus got around the mobile suit forces while they were occupied and made their way to the Big Tray. Bazooka shell after Bazooka shell slammed into the Big Tray. And despite the best efforts of the Big Tray, Cray Vermillion and other Type 61's like his, the Big Tray soon exploded and went up in flames. The explosion flipped Vermillion's tank upside down. The tank's treads spun almost comically ineffective for a few moments before Cray and Ion decided that they were just sitting ducks as they were. Leaving the tank behind, they ran from the combat zone, praying they wouldn't get smushed in the process. As quickly as the tide had turned in the EF's favor, it now turned against them. The Zeon defenders regrouped and soon had the EF mobile suits pinned down again. Just as it looked like they were going to be overrun, another Big Tray in AU colors as well as its accompanying mobile suit complement blasted its way through. "Looks like we may have let them take a little more damage than you intended." Malak Lazarevich said to his boss over a private channel. "Timing things like this is harder than I thought. I didn't mean to actually be late." Aisha Vemunio responded as she blasted a hole through a Zaku. Worked out well for me though... Malak thought to himself. AU forces began to pour in from both flanks, and with their added strength, the Alexandrian defenders were soon either defeated or captured. EF and AU forces met in the middle of what was now mostly a collection of smoking craters from the bombing and mobile suit combat. As reports of resistance slowed to a halt, both sides began to set up command centers and decide what they were going to do next. Charles Gano: 8 VP gained, Repairing 3 Cray Vermillion: 7 VP gained, Destroyed 1, Injured 2 Edmund Blackadder: 8 VP gained, Repairing 3 Aaron McCaskey: 8 VP gained, Repairing 4 Scott Archer: 8 VP gained, Repairing 2 Thierry Mersault: 8 VP gained, Repairing 3 Aisha Vemunio: 8 VP gained, Repairing 3 Malak Lazarevich: 7 VP gained, Repairing 2 It's a long fight, flying from one side of a continent to the other. It's even longer when the planes in question are mostly oversized cargo planes. With a fighter damaged during the siege of Alexandria, Captain Jim Irwin sat in with the flight crew aboard the Medea class Oklahoma. After an uneventful takeoff and a few boring conversations with the pilots flying, the unchanging desert landscape of Northern Africa began to put Irwin to sleep. "Wake me up if something interesting happens...” he said groggily before settling in for a nap. You just couldn't count on cargo pilots to have anything interesting to say. On the ground, a listening post run by the Karakals picks up the fleet traveling through their airspace. "Sir, They appear to be Medea Class ships!" the sensor operator announced proudly. "Of course they are, dumbass. The Federation doesn't have much of anything else that big in the air, now does it?" the commander, Roy Greenwood, retorted. "No, sir! Sorry sir!" "Nevermind. Alert the 17th Air Patrol and tell them to stall the fleet while we get out there to intercept them." "Yes, sir!" Back in the Medeas, a small explosion jerked Irwin back from dreamland. Several Tin cods, Fly Mantas, and Dopps were flying all over the place, dodging, weaving, and maneuvering to place their opponents at a disadvantage. As Irwin rubbed the last bit of sleep out of his eyes, a Tin cod and a Dopp collided not far from their Medea's flight path, forcing the pilot to maneuver to avoid the wreckage. The maneuver sent Irwin sprawling to the floor. "I thought I told you idiots to wake me up if something happened." "You said to wake you if something interesting happened. We figured this was old news to you, Mr. Fighter Pilot." Irwin reseated himself in his chair mumbling something about 'insane idiot cargo pilots.' As he did, the final Dopp exploded along the Medea's flight path again, forcing more evasive maneuvers, sending Irwin off his chair the other direction. Irwin glared at the pilots before brushing himself off and sitting back down in his chair. The pilot coughed before announcing, "We may be experiencing some slight turbulence... Might want to buckle up." Roy Greenwood lined up his bazooka with the lead Medea. They were a bit high really for mobile suits to hit, but he thought he could manage. They'd only just barely made it in time. Those worthless Dopps hadn't lasted long at all. At least they'd thought to have the Luggun retreat once it was clear they were beaten. "Let 'em have it boys. We're probably only going to get one shot at this altitude, so make it count!" Battle cries were followed by three bazooka trails and a few machinegun shells. two of the bazooka shells missed by a wide margin. The third shell hit the Medea squarely in the ass of the Medea. it immediately began smoking with some of its cargo falling out the back. The machinegun shells went a laughable distance, falling well short of the intended target. This didn't go unnoticed. "What the hell? A machinegun? Where's your bazooka?" demanded Roy. "I didn't have time to switch it out, sir!" "Ugh, that's pathetic. You're doing drills all the way home. Maybe then you'll be quicker next time." "Yes, sir..." "Sir, you might want to wake up, we're getting shelled from the ground somewhere. One of the escorts claims it's a Dom and some Zakus." "I'm already awake, thank you." said a rather irate, but securely fasten Irwin. "Now unless you want new assholes in your other ships, I suggest you take us up higher. Why you weren't flying there to begin with is beyond me." Jim Irwin: 1 VP gained, No Additional Damage |