Armored Descent | Act I : Ferry Me 'Cross The Frigid Styx

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by The Taleweaver, Dec 1, 2014.

  1. | Armored Descent |

    @Verin @quentan @Vay @FracturedMancer @*Ermine @dunruffle @Tribs
    @Fyrra @The Butterfly @Vinyl @Elle
    [NOTE: Unless you are confirmed as a participant via PM or the OOC thread, please do not post in this thread! Everyone is welcome to observe and discuss the goings-on in the OOC, however!]

    The Gate Has Opened

    The end of the world came with fire. Mere hours after the pods fell, and knowledge of the suits became widespread, world powers immediately began scrabbling in an attempt to harness the technology contained within for themselves. None were even moderately successful. Suit pilots rebelled against the attempts, with extreme prejudice. It took less than 24 hours for the United States to go up in flames. Factions quickly formed among the survivors, with the 'Unsuited' declaring allegiance simply in order to remain out of the crossfire. America was divided into territories, suits emblazoned with the symbol of their faction in order to pass unassaulted.

    For months, the entire country was nothing but a mass of skirmishes and raids over territory and supplies. Banditry was rampant, and people lived every day in fear, terrified that one of the 'Suited' would decide that they wanted what they had. Eventually, however, the dust settled, and the power began to consolidate. Three major forces stood above the rest of the rabble, claiming the majority of the territory in America for their own.

    The first call themselves Crusaders, and they speak of morality and the 'obligations' that the Suited had to the Unsuited, how they must protect and serve them, and ensure their safety from the less noble Suited. They hold the midwest, having erected a colossal citadel in the middle of the country from whence they rule.

    The second group is known as the Swarm, named for their seemingly endless ranks of Unsuited willing to fight for them. They massed on the west coast and made their home there. They dedicate themselves to wanton hedonism, claiming the Suits were gifts that allowed them to live whatever lifestyles they choose. They provide the Unsuited beneath them with whatever they desire, and all that they ask is that they fight when called.

    The third group is something of a mystery. Whispers have been circulating about a power moving beneath the surface, manipulating the actions of the other two groups and guiding them towards conflict once again. A power that wants unrest and strife in the world. Some even say that they were the ones responsible for the creation and launching of the Pods to begin with.

    Regardless of their origin, or the mysterious third group, none would argue that something is driving the Crusaders and the Swarm towards war. Border raids grow more and more violent, with fewer survivors remaining to tell of the atrocities committed by either side.

    So violent, in fact, that those unaligned with the two factions have begun to worry. Even now, gatherings are happening across the country, unaligned Suits discussing what's to be done about the brewing conflict. One such gathering is occurring even now, in a tiny little town just south of the Crusader's Citadel...

    Pushing Forward

    "Get to the point!"

    "Yeah, why the fuck are we here?"

    "Easy, people," the man said. He wore a red windbreaker over a blue button-down, a color scheme that matched the Medium Suit behind him. He had called this meeting, asking all unaligned Suited within a two hundred mile radius to assemble to discuss what could be done about rapidly mounting tensions between the Crusaders and the Swarm. He seemed to consider himself quite the leader, judging by his posture and slightly condescending tone.

    "I'd like to start by thanking all of you for coming. This is important work we're going to be doing, and I'd like to make sure you all know that I appreciate your support." Most of the assembled pilots groaned and rolled their eyes. They'd only come because of a promise of payment, something that was suspiciously absent from the talks so far. "With the way things are going, it's only a matter of time before war erupts between the two factions. You know it, I know it, we all know it. What we need to do is figure out why, and whether or not there's anything we can do to stop it."

    "What the fuck do you mean, stop it? We're just a few dozen Suits with no faction. No real power here. How the hell are we supposed to do anything? They have thousands of Suits. Thousands. We have one Superheavy suit here, how the fuck are we supposed to stand up to hundreds?"

    "Well," the man began, seeming uncertain. "That's what we're here to discuss... I guess... I guess we'll just open the floor. Let's hear some suggestions. Start brainstorming, people."

    Discussions erupted almost immediately, pilots attempting to talk over one another in order to be heard. There was not even a semblance of order at this gathering, with pre-established cliques of pilots arguing with each other about the best route to take. Some advised neutrality, while others talked of joining up with the Crusaders. A few outliers even discussed hunting the mysterious 'third faction', claiming they'd been behind the increased aggression all along. Regardless of their ideas, nothing would be accomplished in a noisy clusterfuck like this. Perhaps one of the solitary pilots, one who did not hail from a group, might be able to take the reins...

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  2. "Hey! That one superheavy is the best in the biz; and has a name."

    Zoe had been almost exclusively listening up to this point, her feet on the table and arms folded across her chest. She had been waiting for the subject of payment to come up so she'd know if she would stay or just get up and walk away but now things were getting noisy and she hated noise. At least those made by people...

    Standing she hopped up onto the table and put her fingers between her lips and whistle sharply.

    "Look, so there's going to be a war and this guy..." she pointed. "Wants to stop it. We're not going to take on their whole arms because that's just stupid so you can argue all you want about how but I have one question. Why?"

    Her hands on her hips she turned on the person who had brought them all there and stared down at him from behind her glasses. "So two sides want to made war. Big whoop. It wouldn't be the first time and I didn't see anyone getting killed trying to stop the chaos last time. Hell it's our fault the worlds gone to ship. Us, the suited did this and now we just gotta make the most of it... and how does stopping this war instead of just getting out the way help me? Hell a war means more work! So why should we step out in front of all those guns? Tell us that and maybe we'll listen to you."

    She hadn't always been like this... the night the suits came she had been studying for her medical school entrance exam... now she was a suit for hire having watched her native Baltimore burn...

    "We're waiting."
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  3. Axle sat off to the side by himself, paying absolutely no attention to the words everyone was spouting out. Instead, he was taking casual glances at the thousands of different suited around him. He was, at heart, a mecha fan who was only here to check everyone else out. He didn't care much about the war about to happen cause, well, he was planning on having a front row seat to the battle that would come. He was living the dream, why come up with an idea that would tear that dream apart?

    He did wonder why he never chose to side with a faction. I mean, was it the fact that one side was obviously a bunch of boring Lawful good wannabes? Was it cause the other side were a bunch of wimps who used unsuited to fight? Or was it the fact that joining a side meant he wouldn't be able to fight every other suited around? Probably that last one to be honest.

    Then the superheavy started speaking about how the state of the world was all their fault. Though she brought up a good point of why should they stop the war. They never did anything about tearing the world apart, and they definitely barely gave a shit about the unsuited. So what was the point of pretending to be good guys now? So for once, Axle decided to speak up in one of these damn meetings. "Ya know, she's right. Why the hell should we start giving a crap all of a sudden?"

    - - -

    Axle's suit is made to resemble his general body shape as much as possible. With exceptions when it came to the iron bands around his wrists and ankles. Each iron band sporting several rows of small decorative spikes on their surface. His helmet is a rounded surface, with the stylized face of a dragon on its front. On his back is an emblem of two swords impaled into a draconic skull, each sword resembling his riptide weapon. Going down his arms are a pair of twisting red stripes, resembling DNA.
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  4. "so many fancy ones." Isaac was only mildly listening rather scribbling in his notebook about all the suits gathered. "War's about to start yada yada brainstorm yada yada and why do we care yada yada." The actual talks weren't interesting, he knew that a war would be a big deal, making it hard to be covert with so many suits looking for blood. the Super did have a point for the mercs here, if they were expecting pay a war's their meal ticket. The leader got the wrong group for a crusade against war.

    'crusade... something feels off' deciding to pack up Isaac puts away his notebook, he would have to huff it to meet up with his suit. It was partially buried on a nearby hill, with it's simple midnight blue colour and mesh build It would be hard to spot in the darkness. the onboard AI was set stay still to monitor the meeting and extract Isaac if any problems arised. As for the AI itself, It seemed friendly enough. I gave complex responses to paradoxical questions and seemed to be sentient, it was good company on quiet nights. Isaac didn't name it yet having no better reason than not knowing what gender it considered itself.

    Standing and heading for the door, Isaac wondered if he was being paranoid.
    #4 quentan, Dec 1, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 1, 2014
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  5. "Doubt they have anything interesting to say. All just seems to be bickering. Who calls a meeting just so people can whine? Well, now that the government's gone?" Andrea watched from nearby. She didn't care so much about the politics. To her, they needed more factions to hold the others in check. They needed anarchy, true anarchy. Sure there'd be power struggles, but this would all end and they'd all have the protection of the others. 'Don't touch my stuff, I don't break yours' seemed so logical. She slipped down from her 'perch' and landed near an outlier of the meeting, who didn't seem to notice her.

    It didn't take her too long to move up closer to the middle: just long enough for one of them to yell something about why they would all be doing this. It's not like they could stop anything. There was a reason these two groups were so powerful, after all. The best this group could do is band together and do the same type of recruiting as the other two groups. Maybe break the other groups into several factions, balance the power a bit more.

    Regardless, she wanted nothing to do with it.
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  6. When everything had went to shit... Well, Gwyn didn't want to think about that. Instead he scooted the mashed box he was sitting on a little closer to listen intently. There was more in the room than he expected, just how many of the Suited that didn't belong to the various factions had shown up? How many were spies?

    Gwyn finally stood up as someone else complained that they hadn't given a shit then, why now? He cleared his throat. "He's right." He pointed to the man at the front. "And both of them are right too." He pointed to the two women and the other man in turn and shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of 'so what?'. "Not everyone thinks the world needs saving and what gives us the -not the obligation- but the right to save it?"

    He held up a hand, nails broken and bruises littering it. "What gives us the right to intervene on behalf of the Unsuited? Our suits... They weren't given to us for any reason except causing this war! How do you think the Suits that started this is going to fix it?" Gwyn's voice trailed off and he ran a hand through his hair before crossing his arms over his chest. "Because I don't have the foggiest idea."
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  7. "Had to get here early, didn't you, Mason?" The tall man grumbled to himself inwardly as Suited kept slipping into his space, only to be repelled with a forceful elbow to send them on their way. The talks, to this point, hadn't meant much to him, outside of the lure of payment and the prospect of a more reliable source of income. As the conversation began to turn to what their actual purpose here tonight was, he felt skepticism warring with interest. However, it was difficult to pay to much attention with all these people getting in his -space-. Stepping forwad out of the press of the crowd, he blinks as he comes out right beside the man that had called them all. Realizing that he'd effectively trapped himself in the meeting for the duration, he mentally screams at himself, but took the opportunity to actually look at several of the people that'd made themselves centers of attention.

    However, as the man asks what gives them the right to fix everything, he responds quickly by saying "Because nobody else will. Unsuited don't have a chance in hell at changing anything, so who else but a Suited can?" He then whirls around quickly to look at the superheavy, calling out "Because, quite frankly, we'll not be able to remain unaligned after or during a war like this. You think the winner would actually be content to just consolidate their holdings? They'll be coming after us." He then stops like a deer in headlights, realizing what he'd done. He furiously murmurs invectives aimed at himself, seeming to contract into himself to hide from the inevitable looks. He then tries to direct attention from himself, saying "Just a thought, I obviously don't know everything."
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  8. Lazlo scarfed down his food as he listened to the crowd. Stetching lazily he got up from his seat and slipped up towards the front. After listening and mulling things over Lazlo raised his hand and spoke up, "that is pretty true, whoever wins the war is gonna want everyone to see things their way. I say we head east or north and find somewhere to hole up, that way we have some distance between us and the shitstorm. That way when the war is over we can come back and negotiate with whoever wins. I am not afraid of fighting but I dont want to throw my life away simply because it might possibly change who wins a fight we arent even part of..." Pulling out a pack of oreo cookies Lazlo began messily eating them as he waited for another opinion.
  9. Shot In The Dark

    "We do have a duty. An obligation. At the risk of sounding like one of those Crusaders... If we don't do it, then who will?" The ostentatiously dressed pilot stared around at all of the others attending, gaze sharp and focused. "We possess more power than any of the ordinary citizens. We have the strength to make a difference."

    Murmurs ran rampant through the crowd for a few moments, before another pilot stepped forward. He wore a leather jacket, with holey jeans beneath them.

    "And if da Crusaders or da Swarm decide we're too dangerous to be left alive?" A thick Jamaican accent came from beneath the dreads that threatened to obscure the speaker's face. "What den? Do we hope dat our 'powah' and 'strength' are enough to keep dem from blowin' our brains out?"

    The first speaker opened his mouth as if to answer, but was cut short as a colossal crash shook the complex. He immediately looked at a nearby window, where the flash of gunfire and a burning flame were clearly visible. Without saying another word, he (and most of the others present) loaded into their Suits and walked, hovered, and flew towards the open hangar door.

    The first speaker was also the first one out the door. He wheeled in the direction of the gunfire, training the enormous cannon on his shouldermount hardpoint at whatever foe was out there... But something gave him pause.

    Whatever he saw, he didn't have enough time to do more than turn back and initiate his com in a burst of static.


    A single shot, fired from what was likely a high caliber rifle, pierced his tempered armor. He staggered forward one step, two, three. Sparks flew from his cockpit briefly, before the Suit and pilot both collapsed in a tangled pile of pooling blood and oil.

    A round that could pierce the armor on a tempered Medium weight suit? Whatever enemy had come, had come well-armed. Someone didn't want the unaligned Suits cooperating. The survivors would know to be careful as they exited the building. One thing was certain -- whether they wanted to or not, the unaligned were being drawn into the war.
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  10. Zoe leaped into the waiting maw of Bean, the large imposing bulk of the superheavy rising to it's full, titanic highlight.

    "Fuck this job." Zoe swore. "It stunk from the second I got here and I'm outties."

    A fist shot forwards towards the back of the pretentious asshole's suit, the massive middle finger rising to the challenge of expressing exactly hoe Zoe felt... right before the suit flew backwards in a spray of debris, lubricants, the what was left of the occupant.

    "Holly shit!"

    She had been right behind him, and her to weave to the side to avoid colliding with the wreck, her sudden sidewards dodge causing her to slam into the hanger door, denting it with the weight of her multi-ton monster.

    "It's got to be a killing field out there." she said, her first transmitted words since mounting up.

    "Well there's no one better suited to open the path than Bean..."

    She sighed and shut off her transmitter. "We're dead if we sit in here like rats anyway. It's break out and kick ass or cower and die..."

    Bean wasn't a pretty machine by any standards. A huge block of armor with no discernible cockpit with a dorsal mounted ion cannon and two beefy arms... but if there were two things he was it was big, and scary.

    Zoe rounded the edge of the door, right at the point where captain silkpants has bought the hammer and stood in the gap, the two steel fists coming crashing together before a sounds like an ancient Sassanid war horn bellowed out across the field. It, along with the distinctive sound of her secondary melee weapon was Zoe's calling card. Shrill, alien, and above all intimidating.

    "Well... too late to be smart now... I got their attention, I just hope i get some backup."

    What she did know was the first thing that she saw was getting ion cannoned.
  11. Lazlo nearly choked on the sandwich that he was eating when the explosion rocked the hangar, stuffing the half eaten snack into one of the many pockets on his cargo pants he raced to his mech. His mech was a light class, fitted for maximum speed and mobility. The cockpit was painted with a black and grey flecktarn camouflage pattern while the arms and legs had jagged lightning bolt-esque patterns. On the front of the cockpit a smiling fanged mouth had been painted on, the left side of the cockpit had the emblem of a bleeding heart with a knife through it while on the right side the word "Killjoy" had been written in large bold letters.

    Climbing in the cockpit Lazlo settled into his seat as Killjoy powered up, "all call-signs this is Killjoy, exiting the hangar now." After doing a final check of all the light suit's systems Lazlo activated the thruster systems, skating out of the hangar and parking slightly behind Bean. Flexing killjoy's claws Lazlo activated his thermal vision and peered out into the smoke, "Hey big lady, I gots lots of heat signatures, the heat from the explosion is slightly messin with my gear but we got a bunch of hostiles out got a plan?" Hovering slowly from side to side Lazlo debated whether he should cut and run now or stick around and possibly help out, his instincts told him to escape now before the fighting started but his greed was also tugging at his brain as he thought about searching any downed mechs for possible salvage.
  12. Thankful she was already in her suit, Andrea ran off in the opposite direction as everyone else. They were all going to be in heavier suits than her and she didn't want to get trampled. More importantly, they were all together and drawing the attention away from her. But more bodies meant more people to hit that weren't her; she changed her mind and ran back to the others. She watched all the heat around them silently. The one calling himself Killjoy was annoying her significantly more than he should have. "I have no call-sign. And stop drawing their attention. If we can hear you, so can they. Unless you want to be a human shield. I'm cool with that."

    She tried to keep to the center of the group to keep more bodies between her and the ones firing, but it was getting increasingly cramped. To avoid getting killed for trying to avoid getting crushed: "I don't know who you are, but I'm going to climb on you. Just a warning. I promise not to slow you down much." She had spotted a bigger mech than her own (which was pretty much any mech other than her own), and started climbing up. The rifle-sized machine gun hanging below her arm made it a little more complicated than it should have been, but she managed to hang on just high enough, with her feet pulled up, to avoid getting crushed, but not high enough to make herself a target to everyone firing at them.
  13. the explosion knocked Isaac off his feet and out of the doorway, looking back Isaac saw a bullet hole in the floor where his head would be if he hadn't of fell. This was bad, all exits were covered; the enemy knew they would be here and probably know all the suits in the building. Luckily his wasn't in the building. the super heavy would draw most of their fire, but they likely only have a thin guard in the back. deciding on the next possible moves Isaac yelled out the door.

    "THE KING IS IN CHECK, TAKE OUT THE PAWNS!" It was a code that he and his suit's AI developed, right now his suit should be scanning the area (the board) for enemies (pawns), design the best strategy for recovering the pilot (the king). After a few minutes, he heard the telltale sound of the hand held EMP cannon and rustling in a nearby bushes. suddenly he saw his suit, the black queen, sprinting for the door with a trail of bullets on its' heel. As it barrelled through the door, Isaac slammed it shut.

    *BEZZT* "QUEEN HAS SECURED KING." The robotic voice was music to Isaac's ears. stepping forward the cockpit opened up revealing the empty pilot chamber. Getting in his suit he checked all systems ensuring that nothing got damaged.

    "How does the board look?" Isaac finally addressed the AI.
  14. Everyone sprinting for their suits at one time terrified Mason to the point of paralysis, the sudden chaos paying havoc with the lanky man. Looking around for where Nova was, he couldn't help the countless colorful curses flowing through his mind. However, as he finally spotte the familiar white and black pattern that he knew so well, he felt some of his fear lift as the plan came on so clearly for him. Looking quickly about the hangar, he spotted the group that had started to clump up in their haste to escape the cramped building. Finally reaching the Suit, he slapped a hand on the access port, biometrics read before thedoor opens up for him. Slipping into the machine, he closed the hatch before situating himself for control. The sing of the engine firing up calmed his nerves as the noise outside faded away, leaving him in perfect isolation for at least a moment.

    Now was not the time for relaxation, however, considering that people were beginning to shoot at him and the other unaligned. He reaches over to begin cycling up the magnets on his railgun, even as he readied the missile launchers in Nova's shoulders. He moves to a different part of the hangar from where the door was, knowing that the only real exit would be covered by the majority of the opposing guns. Taking a step back, he armed a missile and aimed it at the wall. Scanning around the room for any suits that would possibly be of assistance in this he sighs as he realizes the Superheavy had actually left already. Letting the missile fly he watches the shaped charge in the nosecone deliver the full force of the exposion directly into the wall, without any backblast to threaten the other suits within. Those outside, however, wouldn't be quite so lucky...
  15. Everything happened so damn fast that Gwyn barely had enough time to climb into his rather plain primer gray medium suit. Quickly now he had his screens up, the suit powering up under his fingers and he watched in fascinated horror as their 'leader' was mowed down. At least it was a fast death. The suit darted through the crowd all trying to get outside, all desperate not to die tonight. There was the super-heavy blocking the door, someone atop someone's shoulders, someone's suit coming to meet them and in general there was nothing but chaos as single pilots panicked.

    The super-heavy was trying to choke point them, right?! Except that the building was a sitting target and they no doubt had air power. Gwyn's brain whirled about for a moment, trying to think amidst the noise. So he did the best thing he could do and that was to come up to her elbow behind her, hoping that she might have a plan. If everyone was apart than they'd be easier to snipe down, staying together was the best bet except... Larger target. They were outnumbered. Gwyn heaved a breath inside the suit and armed his guns.

    That was about when he the explosion happened. Someone had blasted one of the walls! Any plan that Gwyn had was shucked out then and there. He turned and looked at the super-heavy. "Got a plan?"
  16. Axle groaned when the dude started speaking like a Crusader. That they had an obligation to do this kind of stuff. No they bloody didn't, all they had were some fancy suits. If thats all it took to bring the world to hell, then why exactly did they need to fix things? Long as suited exist, there wasn't going to be anything similar to peace. Axle's thought process was proven right when the leader was gunned down by an unseen force of attackers, most likely that 'third group' everybody keeps whispering about.

    Axle didn't much care for that, no what he cared about was the fact he was in his suit and ready to fight. Drawing his favorite weapon, the Claymore Riptide, he quickly stood himself up and watched the chaos begin. "Alright, time to tear some shit in half." Clenching tighter unto his weapons hilt, he activated its chainsaw feature and started to run towards the blasted open wall. Oooooonly to get sent flying by an explosive projectile and knocked into another suited. "...Ergh...nevermind, time to find a way out of here..."

    Feet back on the ground, he turned towards the superheavy and limped his way over. No doubt his AI about to come online and get unto him for trying to be so reckless. "Hey, Superheavy, you seem smart. Any idea's of how to get out of here with all of our limbs intact?"
  17. Chaos

    That's truly what was transpiring. Chaos. Pure, utter chaos. Judging from the hail of gunfire assaulting them from both sides, both the Swarm and the Crusaders sent a team of Suited to 'deal with' the unaligned gathering, in their own way. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), the two parties had arrived at nearly the same time, causing most of their attention to be diverted away from the unaligned and towards each other.

    The Swarm's side was full of dozens of Medium Suits, a handful of Light Suits, and what looked like hundreds of Unsuited, all armed with assault rifles, shotguns, and even a handful with light machine guns. Their strategy, as usual, seemed to be to throw bodies at their enemies until they fell.

    The Crusaders had a very different strategy. Their side had no Unsuited visible, just a collection of Medium and Heavy Suits, with all guns trained on the Swarm. And there, perched atop a ridge behind their group, stood something that would send a chill down the spine of most Suited, and would send most Unsuited running in terror.

    Not one but two Superheavy class Suits, one armed with a strange melee weapon and an ion cannon, the other with a heavy machine gun and what looked like a highly modified railgun. That railgun would be the weapon that took down the flashy pilot moments ago. It seemed that these two led the Crusaders' force, since they were utterly focused on the unaligned escaping rather than destroying the Swarm Suits across the ridgeline. Though slow to move and earthbound, these two Suits would prove to be the undoing of the unaligned should they not be taken down.

    One of the Superheavy Suits turned on a floodlight mounted on it's shoulder, and it's com flared to life with a crackle.


    Despite their best efforts, the two Superheavy Suits could not prevent their forces from fighting with their hated foe. Hopefully the lack of discipline and distraction caused by the two factions could work to the unaligneds' advantage...

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  18. Zoe did not feel qualified to take the lead but is someone had to stop everyone dying them...

    "And for another things why even bother with us. We're nothing but suddenly BOTH you assholes are coming to get us. A fucking SWARM? Bean is designed to take out the big stuff..."

    She ended her rant by punching the spotlight equipped superheavy into her targeting computer.

    "I don't know about smart but I can tell you what I see." she said to whomever was talking to her and anyone else who might be listening. "They're an undisciplined bunch so taking out the mouthy one will let then fight each other in peace and we can get away. That is the plan, we live. After that, fuck knows? I might just head to Mexico and wait this one out."

    With a heavy thud Bean's main weapon joined in the bloody conversation unfolding between the three sides. "If anyone can think of a way to give us cover do it now, if not just stay behind me and I'll see what I can do about putting my ten ton ass between you and danger."

    She bit her lip, considering her options. "Get away for the supers..." Bean's right forearm snapped open, and a long curved toothed blade slid out, the chain pulling taunt as the weapons unfolded before with a roars the blade spun up, the weapon locking into place. "I vote we punch thought he unsuited as face as possible, our heaviest on point and those that their peashooters can actually dent behind... "Anyone have any better ideas?"

    She hated being team leader... but at least this time if she guessed wrong she'd die first.

    "Man... fuck this job..." that seemed to be the phrase of the day.
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  19. Watching the suited that had tried to move through the hole he'd created dampened Mason's mood for a moment, as he realizes that maybe his plan wouldn't quuuuite work out. He'd been betting on one group, but from what he could hear, apparently both the Swarm and the Crusaders were wanting a piece out of the unaligned pie. Hearing the call from the superheavy, he let out an exasperated sigh before turning from the hole that he'd created in the wall. Keying the microphone that would transmit his words for those who payed attention to hear. "Nova moving into position." Staring at the mass of unaligned suits that near blocked the entrance, he let out a sigh. He was -not- going to enjoy this...

    Using his heavy suit, Mason starts it walking toward the spot that he'd selected for himself at the superheavy's left side. He relied on his suits size advantage over those that would still occupy the large crowd, and made it the responsibility of others to move when he couldn't move around. Several lights and mediums were pushed off the the side as he passed by, even as he inwardly shuddered. "Too. Damn. Close." Stepping up the pace slightly in his haste to get out from the middle, he began the process of seeking targets on his HUD, before realizing an issue. Keying a channel request to the superheavy, he waited. "We need to share targeting data among us all...Dammit, dammit, dammit!" He'd mutter this even if the channel wasn't accepted, as e finally assumes his chosen spot.
  20. "The structure is surrounded on two sides; one of predominately unsuited the other suited. Both have Insignia of The swarm and Crusade respectfully. They seem to only concerned with the unaligned, avoiding firing on each other. If an incident were to occur there's a 90% chance that they will fire upon each other." the AI gave a general report of situation, giving Isaac an idea.

    "Alright Jenna, lets gather kings row and survive this daka daka." Isaac making it to the front spotted just who he needed, the superheavy.


    "If I die tonight, I at least want the closest one to me be a woman, AI or not."

    "Very well" Finally getting up to the super, Isaac jumped on it's back, his com cracking to life.

    #20 quentan, Dec 5, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 5, 2014