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There was much to be said about the sheer extravagant indulgence that was having an entire flying castle, while those below still toiled beneath the depths of ever-rising cities, skyscraper apartments designed to cope with population densities that would make Hong Kong look spacious. There was much to be said, as well, about how all his colleagues were girls younger than himself, a collection of pretty faces and high-pitched voices. Maybe six years ago, that’d be something to celebrate, but now, it just made things grossly awkward, especially when the youngest amongst them were undeniably still children.

Some sorta burning pile of garbage this was. Literal infinite amounts of money, and they’re [i]still[/i] using kids as soldiers. Sure, the kiddos were motivated, and their Chi-Mechframes could wipe out a number of Warped that would make soldiers wonder why they’ve ever sacrificed so much, but still. More evidence that the world was shit and those in power were asshats.

Though that just added another small thing to the pile of many shitty things that smeared this war.

Xuan-Yu sighed. While those eager kids were diving into the fray, skydiving with nothing but the flight systems of their experimental warmachines to keep them alive, the airlift had landed, and the cargo-bay had opened up. Hot winds scoured his skin, the acrid smell of gunpowder and artillery blast mingling with the undercurrent of blood. Blood that seeped into ruins and fed coarse weeds. Weeds that would grow over unclaimed corpses, lost limbs and fetid organs. Had it only been three months?

Ah, he did [i]not[/i] miss this fucking cesspool.

[b]“Please.”[/b]

The click-clack of interlacing plates sounded as his body melted into the background.

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[DEATHSTALKER ONLINE][/center]
By nature, Xuan-Yu’s Chi-Mechframe was a headhunter. Instantaneous, explosive power combined with stealthing capabilities made him more than capable of ripping any individual Warped apart with his metallic hands. In the best case scenario, he would be allowed to stay off the battlefield, observing from a high angle in order to pick out high-value targets or react to assist any squadmates stuck in the quagmire. It was almost a mistake then, to put an assassin at the helm of a defensive measure, especially when their enemy lacked any sense of tactics or strategy beyond rushing forward as a biomass wave. Grendel was a defensive bulwark. K-01 was built around skirmishing. Supplice was a natural all-rounder. On paper, at least, they were well-fit to respond flexibly to the chaos that a large number of Warped brought.

But even at 60% operational capacity, Deathstalker could kill low-threat Warped.

A wraith strode through the lines of barbed wire and trenches, palisades and turrets, the only sign of his presence the crimson that traced his blade in the brief instance it entered and exited the bodies of the goblins that scrambled past the wreckage left by Infernus’s bombardment. What was that saying again?

Ah yes, artillery sowed, infantry reaped.

[b]“Morning comrades,”[/b] Xuan-Yu’s voice sounded through intercoms, slipping into the Japanese that served as the common language between the Horizon’s occupants. [b]“Constanza’s on overwatch today, right? I’ll be busy not doing my [i]real[/i] job, so if you spot something with a fat head, toss me a ping and I’ll carve it up. And Faye, stick to the rear and pick up what trash I drop, could you? The distance between me and you should give [i]plenty[/i] of time to get into position.”[/b]

And as for Drakos…

Naw, there was nothing he could really say that shouldn’t be obvious.