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P.S.

I know it goes without saying, but ... the person whose drawing appeals to me the most will be the winner. It doesn't have to be artsy or fartsy. It just has to be the one that I believe to be the one that I thought was the best. This doesn't necessarily mean a photorealistic facsimile is going to win it all. The one I like the most, wins their shiny copy of DOOM Eternal.

That's all. Do your best and good luck!

>>4128780
Practical question: does it matter which timeline of Ashes of Rhysode we pull from?

I kinda want to draw that crazy pirate guy.

>>4135398
As long as it's one of the Quests I made, I don't mind. But it has to be the interpretation of a scene. Not just a character profile.

>>4136019
Pft, it's an excuse to draw Zakus fighting pirate mechwarriors on the moon. I'm not gonna turn that down.

>>4136427
Well, go for it. You're probably going to be the winner by default at this rate. lol

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>>4136019
Behold, my interpretation of the time our boy had a threesome.

>>4136523
Dude, it's advisable to e-mail it to me first if this is a serious consideration. Rules are in the main post.

>>4136652
>crudely drawn stick figure sex
>serious entry

>>4136523
so the MC is the one on four eh you kinky fuckers

>>4136685
anon, i cant draw for shit but im still gonna draw a 3 panel thing of Wray admiring his garden, said garden getting stomped on by an enemy mech and Wray just violating said mech with a trowel
and itll all be stick figures

Okay, I have the key. Now I don't have to get egg on my face when you guys redeem it.

Also, for real: I will be running in about ... 4-6 hours. I'll post again later for confirmation, but that's the window. I have the giveaway sorted out and my cat's needs are tended to. She's pregnant, no thanks to my parent's tomcat.

T-Minus 2 hours ... ish.

I'm here and typing up. Hang on. Having a bit of a writer's block.

>>4138007
Null sweat m8

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[VANGUARD]

You don’t feel the impact … but the plasma eats away at your barrier enough for the warnings to blare. You jolt your Mech back into a retreat, keeping an eye on your six and another on the sensors. The old girl groans with the shift from one set of hydraulics to the next, the torque compensation masterfully handled by the VI to give you enough distance to take advantage of the limited turn radii of the two Mechs, axe and rifle at the ready. The two pilots are skillful; even in the feint you’d drawn, the Starkwolf’s pilot is ready to take you on with a split, the Kensington following its lead with a retreat and a fresh set of locks on your person. The second barrage comes quickly enough, however, and you have to settle for half a victory instead of a full on avoidance of your enemy’s tactics. These pilots are a cut above the shredded carcasses that lay upon the plains. There is no need for theory or debate. The instinctive exchange, cutting in and switching fire objectives on a singular target outside ones turn radius with but a back-pedal is nothing short of … impressive. It probably took them years to get that rhythm right.

If you weren’t in a Hellion, you would be a burning corpse in a wreckage.

The old girl takes the punishment, shield up and knees bent.

You spy an opening, but elect not to take it just yet. The other two Mechs would corral you into a proper kill-box if you so much as made an offensive return without proper consideration … and as much of a neophyte you could admit yourself to be at times, you weren’t an idiot quite yet.

The heat warnings disappear with an injection of extra coolant. All in all, you’re able to stand your ground … even if you aren’t so much as able to sniff any gains. The pilots don’t give you any time to bask in your growing confidence, however … and elect to try and pepper you again with another group firing solution. The Starkwolf does, anyway. It doesn’t do much. A few stray beams find their mark, but nothing tears into the armor. The Kensington moves in for a follow-up, but a jolt of the joystick and a shift in gears has you turning and countering with the shield again. The sensors read no damage, but you’d managed to wedge yourself right in the middle of their formation with that swing and thrust. Auxiliary weaponry lights the night again, marking your raise shield as you move right out before you exposed yourself.

The axe clangs against the side of your shield as you taunt your opponents, the match effectively resetting itself with your flick of the throttle.

Neither of them make a move.

The registration sequence blinks brightly.

>Answer it
>Ignore it
>Write-in

>>4138020
>>Answer it

>>4138020
>>Answer it

>>4138020
>Answer it

>>4138020
>Answer it

Holy shit, he lives.

>>4138020
>>Answer it

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BEHOLD MY WORK OF ART FAGGOTS AND DESPAIR
and this is why you dont fuck with Wrays garden

>>4144642
Remember to e-mail me, too.

2 things:
1. I will be running in about 2 hours.
2. You folks have about 13 hours to submit your drawing if you want a chance at Doom:Eternal

>>4145158
Right forgot to post before I passed out, Mechs at a funeral lads, his grandmothers brother passed
Life really doesn't want him to run his quests

>>4145737
F

May he find his way to an afterlife of his preference.

I'm trying to check if I'm banned from this board, still.

>>4153973
You're not. What thread were you shitposting in?

Running in approximately 10 minutes. Gonna blitz through this.

File: Mercury.jpg (346 KB, 840x957)

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You approve the bridge.

‘Senpai!’

‘Rosaria?’

How’d she—

‘We were able to isolate the masking program they were using, but we’re having problems getting the AI to overwrite the signal’s blackout. You need to keep the attacking force from damaging the Whitestorm or we’ll lose the whole sequence!’

Protect the Whitestorm? What did she think you were—

The orange light flashes.

For one second, you’d taken your eyes off your display.

Perhaps even less.

You thrust yourself right out of the way as another succession of offensive maneuvers and defensive counter-maneuvers take place. A veritable dance of death as it is. The Kensington elects to take a more aggressive stance in its pursuit of corralling you into a definitive kill box. The Starkwolf, in response to its lance’s action, takes a more reserved stance, electing for more precise fare in its distribution of pulse discharges. You discharge your own kinetic rounds to hold their attention; keeping the two Mechs at bay had—

You hit the jets as the Hellion’s heel dug into ground, cursing as you scanned the tandem’s moves. They’d shifted again. The Starkwolf had taken the offensive role and split off from the Kensington. Mid-range weaponry is once again the order of the day as your opponents elect to take a more aggressive stance in corralling you into the proverbial bullseye. Shield raised and rifle firing shot after shot, you try to break them apart the best you can, but at the distance they’re at now (of your own making no less, in attempting to previously disengage and recollect), the advantage of a hundred and eighty degree torso turns and no requirement to stare down the sights by virtue of a superior AI assist … you find yourself thoroughly rustled.

A beam finds its mark just over the shoulder plate.

It’s all that they get, however.

You thrust yourself between the both of them, breaking between their feasible rotation right as they hit their second gear. You pass between the two Mechs, forcing them to rotate and break the split as you fire off another volley in the direction of the Kensington, the move almost one of pure habit. Isolation and elimination was how you—

A kinetic round blitzes across your torso, bolting like a speeding comet right in front of your optics.

You realize that the only reason your Hellion’s head is still attached is because you’d bolted right into the formation. Recklessness had, unwittingly, saved your hide.

The threat recognition glows blue as you raise your shield and reach for the Heat Axe.

ENEMY INTEL UPDATE
FOE 03: LONGHORN 01
-Status: Operational (4 AP)
-Single Fire, Long Range, Kinetic Weaponry, Projectiles Only
FOE 04: MERCURY 01
-Status: Operational (2 AP)
-Scout Configuration, Inteference and Subterfuge, Auxiliary/Low -Yield Weaponry Only

So they did have a sharpshooter.

Four on one … the odds were getting bleaker by the—

‘Senpai, you have to hold them off. If they hit the module at all, then—’

‘I know, Rosaria,’ you growl, flicking the comm off.

Four on one.

Bleak didn’t even begin to describe your situation.

>Write-In

>>4154285
right the Starkwolf and Kensington are gonna be the active threats while the Longhorn will try to snipe us at long range
Mercury will probably be the harasser in the fight or might try to dip mid fight and attack the Whitestorm

>>4154298
oh great that names gonna be in the field the entire thread each time i post, thats gonna be annoying

>>4154285
>prep for a long fight
cant really think of anything that we can do before the fight reengages

Anyone else with a vote?

>>4154285
>Keep them focused on us. We win by letting Rosaria finish the counter measures.

>>4154285
>>4154342
Voting for this.

Newfag here, just floating some ideas for veterans to consider:

>keep one of the enemies between us and the sniper
>can we grab the stealth / ecm mech and throw it into one of the two energy weapon mechs?
>barring that, can we engage one of the energy weapon mechs in melee and maneuver to interfere with both the other EW and the sniper? In that case better keep track of the ecm mech too.

Okay, I told you guys (on the Discord) that I'd be running at a reasonable hour for you American Gaijin, so I'll be running ... in a bit. Just drop a message and we'll commence.

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You don’t dare make any sudden movements. The presence of the Longhorn and Mercury had cut off any option of outmaneuvering your opponents … not that you had much of an advantage in that direction in the first place, anyway.

It’s a thought that gives you an odd chuckle.

Well … back to work, then.

The Mercury goes into motion, peeling away from the upcoming skirmish with a lock on your right shoulder. The group forms up, breaking off and heading up in a hopeful prelude to accomplishment. You hit the throttle just as well, activating the jets in a forward motion and jinking into a feint to break the pursuit, unwilling to bring out the rifle without a clear shot. The Starkwolf backs off as the Kensington takes the lead in the dance, its gears groaning loudly as its pilot meets you in-range. The lights blink and warnings blare as one of the opposing mechs gets a lock on you, prompting you to close in on the Kensington to use as a makeshift shield right as you hit the breaks. The Starkwolf fires off bolt after bolt, but in sequence rather than in rapid succession. Your defensive maneuvering allows you to put the Kensington in their scopes enough to keep the rest off. You throw out a swing of your axe in act of discouragement, prompting the Kensington to peel off and let loose with a barrage of its own, unmitigated by the presence of its allies. Being this close, it didn’t have to worry about getting the Starkwolf caught in the crossfire … and the turning radius allows better tracking, barely matched by the crumbling integrity of your shield. Stray bolts manage to strike you, still, but you find that you rather have a few holes in you over being a fiery scrap-heap.

At least not until they fixed the comms.

Death with purpose was commendable.

Death in failure was a resource wasted.

You strike right back, knocking the Kensington aside with the butt of the Heat-Axe as the pilot reads your second feint, pushing the shield right into the side of their mech. The Kensingtons had always been rather imbalanced in their loadouts, even with their superior torso rotation. Much like how a sword and a shield worked, coverage and hard points were the details that made the meat of mech design … you just don’t know how the Alliance Military could deem having what amounted to no more than a mobile weapons platform a consideration at all.

Zero defense. An utterly mad choice of design.

Specialization and practicality didn’t mean anything when one’s dead zone was ten feet in front of you.

The Kensington staggers at the knock, making an attempt at rotation to line you up for another shot … right as the Starkwolf’s presence is announced with a blaring alert, its nose rightly at your back …

>[DODGE] (DC:55)
>[SHIELD] (DC:20)

>>4154582
>>[SHIELD] (DC:20)

Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>4154582
>[SHIELD] (DC:20)

Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>4154596
>>4154582

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>4154582
dodge

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The bolts find at least three points on the Hellion’s, but they don’t get any joints or vitals. The armor ward the bulk of the damage, but damage was still damage. The shield holds up well enough, even with the precision fire setting from the Starkwolf. You’re not sure if that’s a testament to your coordination or the pilot’s incompetence, but you’re thankful to still be standing, all the same. The Hellion groans in response to the sudden jolt and weight shift. Eighty years made for endurance, but not agility. The VI assist would have probably had an aneurysm if it was of flesh and bone trying to put that into numbers, but it gets the job done. You wouldn’t have been able to make the turn otherwise.

The Longhorn charges in with the next motion, firing a volley of rockets in tandem with the Kensington’s recovery and retreat. They don’t make a good job of warding you off, though; the rockets may have you on the defensive again, but the sudden attack had forced the Kensington to break off from formation, leaving the Alliance Military mechs in a surprisingly uncoordinated state. The intention may have been to peck you off before you could follow up with a finish, but they’d only succeeded in giving you a gap to claim as your own. You push right off, right out of the firefight and break into full throttle, peeling off the Starkwolf’s right in response to the failed attempt of a trap. The Starkwolf steps up in pursuit, prompting you to break into a zig-zag and switching your axe for a rifle, blasting away shots in an attempt to keep your opponent honest. The sensors blare at the recognition of the Mercury heading you off; you shift the throttle and hit the thrusters as a succession of high velocity shells rip through the air where you would have stood. You can’t help but be impressed by the stratagem: you would have never expected the Mercury to be the one to bring you down … not with that load-out.

The Heat-Axe is raised as you move for a counter-offensive, but the Mercury is too quick for you to do anything except slash through air. The opening that you offer in the counter leaves the Longhorn—surprisingly aggressive despite its configuration and make—with its chance … and you’re weaving through silos of rockets, shield up, cursing a storm once again. It was a good thing that direct defensive combat was a specialty of yours. You’re not sure if you would have been able to accommodate the odds as an instinctual plugger.

Four on one.

You’re still alive.

That’s a miracle and a half right there.

Your interface flashes as an attempt at contact attempts to bridge through.

>Answer it
>Ignore it
>Write-In

>>4154640
>>Answer it
Christ above we're popular today

>>4154640
>Answer it

>>4154642
You're Wray's best student. Why would you expect any less?

>>4154640
>>Answer it

Running in about 15 minutes. Get ready.

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‘Power down and exit your Mech,’ another voice; its specifications slightly obscured by the crackle of static, sounds out in your pod. ‘If you persist in your resistance we will not hesitate to respond with lethal force.’

‘Yes, because any neophyte with his teeth uncut wouldn’t dare do think that a clean shot to the power plant of a Mech could be anything but a prelude to a request for surrender,’ you sneer, accelerating the Hellion and weaving through their scattered formation, letting loose volleys of suppressive fire as you try to shake the pursuit of the Mercury. ‘Perhaps I could offer you a re-negotiation of those terms once I’m a disemboweled carcass lying in the pit of my own Mech’s burning remains. That should be a more preferable alternative.’

Even you could afford to be a little morbid sometimes.

‘I’m giving you a chance to escape that alternative.’

‘Only because I exceeded the acceptable time frame of elimination,’ you snipe right back, reading your scopes and jinking right to avoid a criss-cross with the now-mobile Longhorn. ‘Alliance Military really doesn’t teach you on the proper sequence of a parlay, do they?’

‘And the Greater Imperial Navy breeds soldiers as impetuous and arrogant as ever.’

‘I’m still alive when I should already be dead. I believe that lip has been rightfully earned, pilot.’

‘Keep rolling the dice on your fortune, then.’

You have to keep them talking.

You have to keep them talking.

Keep them focused on you. Keep it going.

‘That’s what combat is all about. To think of it anything more than gamble after gamble is to believe you have complete control over the winds of destiny itself. Four on one, out-numbered with a Mech about to be decommissioned: you don’t think you’re the one pushing your luck, Commander?’

‘Lieutenant.’

You bend the Hellion’s knees, firing off a shot. The Starkwolf breaks off from the formation again, isolated but not quite helpless as the both of you initiate an exchange. You almost fall the bait, but bail out in time. You have to remind yourself that you had no support in this scuffle … and anything but preservation was going to be met with a price you weren’t quite so willing to pay just yet.

Time.

That’s all that you’re trying to buy here: time.

Keep them on you for as long as possible; for as long as the others needed.

‘Lieutenant,’ you breathe out, correcting yourself. ‘Why are you here? Something tells me that you’re not here to buy discount frills from Alpha's shopping district.’

‘It’s none of your concern.’

‘Now that’s just being impolite, Lieutenant.’

‘You full well know the disclosure protocols.’

‘Oh, I do. It’s nothing to do with your lack of courtesy, Lieutenant.’

'Careful.

>Write-In

>>4155393
"But really why even bother asking for my surrender? There are some four odd of you against the one of me at current and every single one of your machines would be beyond this old shitter. You could probably duel me one on one and win."

>>4155424
That sounds pretty good. I'll support it.

>>4155393
>Careful? shame that Bartholomew pilot at the Spaceport wasnt careful when i slammed my axe into his cockpit.

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‘The deck is stacked against me and you have every card that you wish to play in your hand … and the only thing that you can think of is to negotiate my unconditional surrender?’

‘It’s a mercy I’m willing to grant. Comply or be eliminated.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not of the bracket that would comply with such an obvious reply.’

Shifting into a quick reload, you find yourself only hitting air with your next volley as your exchange shifts from the Starkwolf to the Mercury again. It seemed that you weren’t the only one willing to take advantage of the distraction direct conversation offered. A sly move … is what you would have normally thought; but you’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t using the open comms to keep their attentions on you just as the Lieutenant had been in trying to lull you into a less vigilant mode of operation. The Mercury’s faster than you, but you doubted that they would be using it to disable the Hellion’s robust frame. The Longhorn and the Kensington would come into play soon, you reckon … and you had to keep your back away from the mid-range sweet spot that their weapon configurations would welcome with compliments.

It’s hard to keep them talking, but so long as you remained disruptive—so long as you remained a threat—you reckon that you could manage to keep it going.

How long had it been since you’d engaged? Five minutes? Ten?

‘You could probably afford to take me on one-on-one,’ you bait.

‘Hardly,’ is the response you’re greeted by; you’re almost taken aback by the back-handed praise. ‘You’ve lasted this long in a disadvantaged state. I’d be a fool to believe that I could stand toe-to-toe with you in an isolated state.’

‘I choose to take that as praise, Lieutenant.’

A ten second lull is accompanied by another exchange as the Longhorn makes it move, slamming its load into your barrier as it catches you at a turn. You grunt in frustration, re-calibrating the hydraulic limits to enable another bout of acceleration before settling for another jump. Another salvo barely misses you as the would-be pot-shot is rendered null by the Longhorn’s lack of patience. By the time you’re on the ground, you find yourself back—thankfully—in your starting position, anticipating another run of interference by the Mercury’s supporting maneuvers.

If you ever got out of this, you would never ever cast them as fodder in your mental dioramas.

‘Skill means little against strategy and pre-set limitations, however. The offer stands: depower your Mech and I—’

‘I refuse.’

‘Are all AEGIS pilots this self-assured in themselves that they can’t even bother to take an obvious choice at the cost of their own pride?’

>>4155528
>‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not even a pilot or a pilot candidate.’ (Nonchalant, Slightly Amused)
>‘You’re an invading force in breach of the terms of ceasefire. It’s less arrogance, more disgust.’ (Aggressive)
>‘Probably.’ (Thoughtful)
>‘Only the ones that have nothing to lose, I reckon.’ (Indifferent)
>Write-In

>>4155535
>>‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not even a pilot or a pilot candidate.’ (Nonchalant, Slightly Amused)

>>4155535
>>‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not even a pilot or a pilot candidate.’ (Nonchalant, Slightly Amused)

>>4155535
>>‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not even a pilot or a pilot candidate.’ (Nonchalant, Slightly Amused)

>>4155535
>‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not even a pilot or a pilot candidate.’ (Nonchalant, Slightly Amused)

>>4155535
>>‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not even a pilot or a pilot candidate.’ (Nonchalant, Slightly Amused)

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‘You’re barking up the wrong tree, dog,’ you laugh, lining up a shot … that’s met with the darkness of the night. ‘I’m not a pilot or a candidate. Just a logistics junior officer that hasn’t even got his assignment yet.’

And the heir apparent to one of the largest corporate spans in the known galaxy, but that was rather redundant in the context of things. Not that it would matter if they so much as found a joint, anyway.

‘Then you should be aware of your disadvantage more than most.’

‘Really? I believe it’s an awareness you should heed.’

‘Is that bravado?’

You laugh.

Mostly for effect than actual acknowledgment.

Time. More time.

‘Because you can’t even put so much as a disabling shot through my cranium … what do you expect’s going to happen when those who aren’t unassigned junior officers finally get into their command pods?’

Plasma and rockets light the night as you jink into an evasive maneuver, raising the shield as you keep a bead on the sensors, on the Mercury and Kensington, circling the collapsing formation of the four Alliance Military Mechs. Your taunt must have hit some nerve, because now the Starkwolf was taking point on your Hellion while the other three had fallen back into suppression assignments. It’s not an ideal situation, allowing them to line-up with such organization, but if you didn’t have to worry about getting your power plant plugged by one of the Longhorn’s guns or a follow up to the Kensington’s aggression, it was another thing off your back. The Starkwolf was the only one who could actually rip through you with a full strike now … but you weren’t about to give it the chance.

You’re on the defensive again.

‘We have moved beyond negotiations.

‘I don’t believe offers were ever truly tabled, anyway.’

The voice on the other end grunts … and the dance begins, once more.

>ALLY 01 (YOU):
(Vanguard) Start of Sequence (3 AP)
(Vanguard) Wait/Defer + 1 AP (4 AP)
(Vanguard) BONUS +1 AP (5 AP)

CURRENT Operational AP: 3 AP (-1 from Combat [Previous Round])

>Melee Counter (Choose amount of AP to use [CURRENT: 5 AP])
>Engage in Mid-Range (Choose amount of AP to use + 1 AP [CURRENT: 5 AP])
>Engage in Long-Range (Choose amount of AP to use + 2 AP [CURRENT: 5 AP])
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence
>INPUT OTHER ACTION
>Try to Disengage (2 AP)

*Note 1: Target switching costs 1 AP.
*Note 2: Please designate target in order to be prompted with current “range” between ALLY and TARGET before reaching final decision

>>4155692
>>Melee Counter (Choose amount of AP to use [CURRENT: 5 AP])
>Target Starkwolf
>use 3 AP

>>4155692
>Melee Counter (Choose amount of AP to use [CURRENT: 5 AP])
>Target Starkwolf
>use 3 AP

>>4155698
range designate of target Mercury?
Kensington?
Longhorn?

Hp of Starkwolf and Longhorn?

>>4155703
Mercury, as a "Scout" type/config, will always be 2 AP away unless countered by other class traits, regardless of whether they're near or far. Kensington and Longhorn are Mid-Range. Starkwolf is Mid-Range as well, but squaring up to you (not that it matters, but narrative exists).

>>4155692
>>Melee Counter (Choose amount of AP to use [CURRENT: 5 AP])
>Target Starkwolf
>use 3 AP

File: I am kinda disappointed p(...).jpg (770 KB, 3040x2142)

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You move.

So do they.

>SHIELD (DC: 20, 1 AP, Negate 2 points of AP damage)
>DODGE (DC: 55, 1 AP, Negate all Damage)

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>4155792
>>SHIELD (DC: 20, 1 AP, Negate 2 points of AP damage)

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>4155792
>SHIELD (DC: 20, 1 AP, Negate 2 points of AP damage)

Rolled 48 (1d100)

>>4155792
>SHIELD (DC: 20, 1 AP, Negate 2 points of AP damage)

I'll be resuming in a bit. Is that a reasonable hour for you huwaito piggus?

>>4157388
i'm here

>>4157388
Here but going to sleep
Soon got work early tomorrow.

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You put all that you can into that one swing … and then some. The cover fire from the other Mechs aren’t enough to meet the distance being closed in such a sudden burst of acceleration. Reckless? Perhaps. Definitely. Necessary? Stalling may have been what you were going for, but you didn’t know how many magazines you had left to highlight yourself as a credible threat anymore than you already had … and despite your ideas of leaving behind a beautiful charred corpse draped in honors, you had no immediate desire to throw a tactical foothold away. You angle yourself in just the right way, meeting the barrage of the Kensington with your shield and delegating the rest of the damage to the Hellion’s thick armor. Pulse weaponry or no, it’d take a few more potshots to rip through to your Mech’s vitals. The Starkwolf had stood its ground, unwilling to give in to your offensive, unleashing volley after volley of its own, but unable to capitalize on your unexpected aggression with a sure kill. You’re not sure whether that was just a breed of recklessness that had trickled through the lines of protocol and discipline, but at this point you just don’t care. The Mech’s left arm is the first to be severed; you follow up with a quick dig with the bit of your axe, ripping through the left turning mechanism as the Starkwolf’s pilot moves to disengage. You grit your teeth, juking the joystick forward in unrelenting pursuit, priming the VI for an assist towards another debilitating blow. The Starkwolf fires in vain, toppling over from the sheer force of the second round of contact, crashing nose first into Rhysode’s dirt as your foot crushes the ankle joint of the Mech, granting you your “kill”.

It’s a triumph whose howl is ultimately silent.

The Longhorn takes point in place of its fallen comrade, prompting you to juke the Mech forward and almost slamming your crown against the ceiling of the pod. The Longhorn, unlike the Kensington, manages to actually find its mark, hitting you in the right torso and left leg as you raise the shield to protect yourself. You curse your mistake, wondering how you’d left yourself so open when you should have known better. The shield holds up, but the systems read a reroute of primary and auxiliary systems and considerable damage to the right torso’s mechanism; you are … vulnerable.

You are brought to your knees.

The VI count downs the sequence. The sector reboots had begun.

129/2341
-Recalibrating ...

It’d be too late by then.

308/2342
-Recalibrating ...

The Kensington closes in on you, as does the Longhorn.

This was it.

Well, the least you could do was go out with …

>Have the last word (Write-In)

>>4157546
>(In high Gothic) May Your Souls be Cast to the Fifth Circle to Drown In the Muddy Waters of the River Styx, Fighting Each Other for the Scant Purchase while Devils Prod You Down With Burning Pitchforks for Twelve Eternities.

Going for something stupidly specific and cheesy.

>>4157570
why not
my ass was just going to go with
>fug

>>4157570
This.
We could do worse.

>>4157570
Wray's gonna give us so much shit for this

‘I would wish you damnation, but that’d be a step up from where you’re standing.’

It’s more a statement of your own amusement.

The conditioning training really had managed to desensitize you to your own mortality. Your ears dull by the ticking of the Hellion’s interface and your breath hitching as you stared down the proverbial barrel of a gun, you couldn’t help but wonder if it worked too well.

Not that it mattered anymore.

It would be over soon.

‘May life and death only be scant beginnings, trangressors.’

Click.

BOOM!

Your hand grips the joystick.

Your eyes are wide.

You … are alive.

The Longhorn … is operational.

‘What the—’

You’re quite sure it was meant to at least have more than half a missile rack and an arm, however.

Your sensors come to life. An orange light turns blue.

‘There are more dignified states of departure if you are so keen to relinquish your mortal existence.’

If there was ever a voice that could irritate you into action … it was Emilio Reinweld’s.

You don’t know how or why the Hellion had just been able to receive a comm … or establish a network as its hub. What you are aware of is that you are no longer staring down your own death and that the Hellion had re-routed enough systems to push off out of the kill-box. You hit the throttle and, with all the grace of a bucket of rusty nails, accelerate right out of the incoming crossfire. Four blue beads glow on your interface, marking four friendlies that had just entered the direct combat zone. You spy one detached from an established trio, north by north east and directly north, respectively. The three red beads that mark the hostiles disperse, the Longhorn limping into acceleration and firing stray shot after stray shot in an effort to catch your disengagement of the skirmish. The remaining Alliance Mechs take a more defensive shape, the clear indicator of the Mercury informing you that they had no intention of retreating from a blind—

‘We got incoming!’

Ryosuke?!

Three red beads appear on your screen. The recognition algorithms aren’t given the time to give a proper read, but the lack of proper registration is enough to default the units to hostile. You throw a glance at the rerouting process, finding the functions online once again. The three beads are at least two minutes out, but ….

You hit the brakes and fire the thrusters, avoiding another volley of rockets.

You weren’t done here.

‘What’s the plan?

>Write-In

>>4159319
>we gotta hold them off and keep them away from the camp

>>4159319
I'll support >>4159333

>>4159333
same

>>4159333
>support