Mentions: Yes
Location: The Beach, with added wrecked airship for taste
[hr]The ambush was set. Everyone, for better or for worse, was in their chosen positions. Shrike felt calm. The ancient machine that idled beneath his fingers was worn like a favorite glove, and all its silent tremors and vibrations were familiar to him. His fingers lightly danced over his controls as his heavy display helm cast predictive movements of the drone swarm and airship beyond his field of direct vision. His, in a relaxed manner, settled upon the movement controls and he let out a single breath.

[quote=@Kamen Evie]
[color=DarkGray]”Got it.”[/color] The pilot interrupted, as if she’d read his mind.

She fired.
[/quote]

Within the breadth of that deafening bang, the Shrike's boosters triggered and it surged from the sands in an explosion of movement and insignificant chaff. The ambush was executed. The Shrike rose like a jagged metal behemoth, left arm locking magnetically into the horrendous spike of brutality as it outstretched and impaled onto a drone that had wandered too closely, a micro explosion rocking down Shrike's arm as smoke and oil washed over it. Cutting the limited boosters there, Shrike landed heavy upon the ground right as Crow's second shot connected with the crater of the first. Swiping the pistol-bearing right arm along the left to clear the debris of the drone off the spike-hand, Shrike spared a single glance upwards to affirm the visual feeds he was receiving.

Then he was a visage in efficiency as a drone's microcannon pinged a shot off his rear shoulder armor. The Shell whirled about, pistol upraised. His targeting data was struggling to compute the myriad drone positions as the team's data tether updated from everyone's positions, but his eyes didn't have such reservations; in a swift semicircle of movement the pistol rang out in a dizzying hail of fire for a sidearm, shots landing squarely against the vulnerable, exposed, flight apparati of several drones that were attempting to swarm around him. With breathing room briefly established, Shrike's radiators spiked as his boosters were punched into maximum thrust to maneuver from beneath the toppling airship. His eyes flickered over the display, and his hands twitched on the controls to adjust movements to complete the linkup with Barn Owl. His boosters cut the moment he was safely from beneath the airship, the Shrike's long steps now breaking into a physical sprint.

A swift tap of the comm panel pinged [@AtomicEmperor] Barn Owl directly; "Keep moving. Crow's alone. Move to support. Watch the skies."

And as if his words were predictive, and seeming to spite his fire control system's inadequecies, Shrike whirled and dropped to a knee, raising the left arm up even as his gatling cannon rotated into position on his shoulder. The blazing light of his energy shield manifested, a full length barrier cutting into the sand and extending upwards to the height of the Shell. Just in time, as a fighter jet's withering cannon fire exploded along the beach and into Shrike's shield. The energy barrier held as the strafing fire rained upon it, but Shrike could feel the heat creeping up into his cockpit from having deflected such a devastating and surgical strike.

The shield disappeared in an equally disorienting disappearance of color. Then, the gatling cannon unleashed its own retort into the skies; the first jet's wingman (Or, perhaps, Wing-AI, knowing Murakumo) was deterred off-course by the return torrent of fire, a few stray micro-missiles whizzing past Shrike and impacting into the sands on the beach. Everywhere this man went, things exploded around him it seemed. He made sure to specifically flag those jets as priority targets in the team's shared targeting system as his gatling cannon rotated out of its functional position, and his Shell rose back to its feet.

His voice rang across the combat frequency;

"Need support with those jets."

He was wary of this downed carrier. The Shrike ambulated around the downed vessel like a jagged metal predator as Gizzard ripped into its surface from above. The pistol slotted into its internal compartment; the mighty Susanoo laser rifle slung into the arms. One doesn't usually send a carrier without cargo and soldiers, and he was going to be the first thing anything that emerged from its wreckage had to deal with.