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1 mo ago
Legit watching how long that 1v1 interest check stays on the front page. I'll never quit this site.
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1 mo ago
Discipline a heretic and he'll be loyal for a moment, put him to the flame and he'll be loyal the rest of his life.
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2 mos ago
Sometimes the heresy purges itself.
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2 mos ago
It's called trash CAN, not trash CANNOT. You got this 👍
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7 mos ago
If this is your first night at Waffle House, you have to fight.
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Reya Wyatt


The helicopter ride was quiet. Cassandra hardly spoke; her glance down, hammering away on a datapad nearly the entire time. Reya watched the terrain pass below as the rotors beat quietly above the sound-insulated cabin. It was the first time she had rode in a helicopter in years. As they entered the pattern for the capital and descended she could see the main runway at Balya Gora and there in plain view was the No Leaf Clover and the Dittohead still sitting in the exact place where they had left them so long ago. Her eyes seemed to cut straight to them before anything else. Just the sight of the two ships felt unreal after all she had seen and been through with Gaiwan’s Green Knights. Memories flashed behind her glance and for a moment she could feel her heartbeat pickup faster. She breathed in and exhaled slowly, restraining herself in the movement so as not to draw judgment from Cassandra. The helicopter banked and in the distance the massive dish of the Hyperpulse Generator passed by the window. She swallowed a small lump in her throat seeing the waiting helipad next to the growing afternoon shadow of the massive structure. Cassandra slid her sunglasses down.

They touched down softly and the blades eased to a stop as the engine wound down. An acolyte stood outside waiting while the pilot slid open the door. Reya had no sunglasses and had to shield her eyes from the stark brightness of sunlight reflecting off the freshly washed white stone beneath her feet. Her vision adjusted slowly from the dark furnishings inside the helicopter and she squinted to try and keep up with Cassandra, looking for the other woman’s shadow.

Cassandra, good afternoon.” a male voice announced softly. As Reya’s eyes still struggled to adjust, another figure materialized as much as he stepped forward. “And Miss Wyatt, welcome.

Never miss an opportunity to make an impression, do you?” Cassandra said. The amused smirk on her face was obvious in her words even without it being seen.

The fact that her name was already known was slightly unsettling, but she assumed it had to be on the flight plan Cassandra’s pilot filed in order to land on the pad within the compound. Her eyes finally focused in the brightness of the day and she found an extended hand waiting. She extended her own and he clasped it with both hands, shaking it gently. His touch was delicate, like a gardener handling a potted plant. “I am the Precentor of this facility, but you may call me by name, Jerrard. These are my adepts and acolytes at your service.” He motioned. The cloaked figure standing by nodded at the introduction and she saw another tending a small flower bed along the entrance from the helipad. The grass in the courtyard around them was impeccably groomed and brilliantly green like a sports stadium.

She hadn’t been to a Comstar facility since she was a child, but she knew all the jokes, stereotypes, urban legends and general apprehension most people held, much of it justified, when it came to presumptions about the “Holy Order”. However at a glance, he was unlike any of the images or media typically circulated. Rather than the formal robes worn by the acolytes and adepts that were present, he wore something akin to a conservatively cut Victorian-era suit. Exquisitely tailored, the vest and jacket were white and silver-gray respectively, matching slacks and a gold patterned silk cravat around his neck. Just based on style alone, Reya could see why Cassandra liked him. He was an older man and not much taller than her, but still had a fullness of color in his crisply cut dark hair and neatly trimmed thin mustache. There was a parental air about him that unnerved her as if he already knew everything she was going to say - like she was a teenager coming to confess about crashing the family car. His glance was not intimidating though, and there was welcomeness about him that was disarming. Reya only bowed in return in the way of formal introductions within the Combine. Further words just didn’t feel appropriate.

Have you eaten?

Utterly famished, let’s go upstairs.” Cassandra answered though her tone seemed to denote a demand to get down to business rather than any sense of hunger. She started walking.

Lunch was served at a small table on a rooftop terrace overlooking the courtyard and the capital in the distance. Like everything else about the compound, the entire presentation was spotless and in perfect order; from the washed white monolithic stone construction to the placement of the finely ornate china on the tabletop which was naturally draped in a brilliant white linen tablecloth without even the slightest hint of a crease. Jerrard sipped coffee from a small cup, having already studied the contents of the datapad before him without so much as a hint of a reaction while Cassandra nonchalantly applied a spread to a small piece of toasted bread as if she owned the place. There was an obvious unspoken sparring between them, but the dynamic was not tense, nor was it totally relaxed, very much like a wealthy noble coming to a member of the clergy for a favor. Reya sat quietly through the initial small talk and as the dishes were placed, waited with hands folded in her lap for Jerrard to go first. A surprisingly wide variety of items were set before them with dashes of color and symmetry from what had to have been prepared by a professional chef. After weeks of rations, protein bars and trail mix, it was perhaps the best meal she had ever tasted though she noticed only her place at the table included a pair of chopsticks.

You should know that Premier Federov requested an audience earlier today.” Jerrard said. There was a distinctive Marik accent to his speech, formal and skeptical simultaneously. Reya noticed he hardly made eye contact when he spoke, but always seemed to glance away slightly as if in reflection, only turning to his audience when he wanted to make a point. “I had my staff politely inform his envoy that I was not available.

It would appear his reach has finally exceeded his grasp.

The Precentor gave a small sigh. “At the outset of this debacle, it was the Order’s policy, as well as my own, to remain neutral in this matter.” He continued, pausing for satirical irony. “Now those who applauded my neutrality clamor publicly for my favor in dispatching a foe they have yet been able to vanquish.

Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying.” Cassandra said, daintily replenishing her wine glass from what looked like a finely aged green bottle.

You already knew this was a frame up.” Reya said. She didn’t think or plan it, the words just came out, but her tone was polite enough. It was merely a plain statement of fact.

Of course, my child, Comstar knows all.” He replied. A statement of fact as much as her own.

Reya looked back at him, sensing the incredulous glance of Cassandra, just for a second letting her eyes examine the small golden lapel pin he wore: A subtle pair of Greek letters AK. A small flower was pinned to his jacket above, similar to Edelweiss, but had been modified to grow with a red coloring down the stigma to resemble the motif of Comstar. She considered her words: “But you won’t just declare them outlaws even though you know they did this.” She said, her glance narrowed some though not accusatorily, it was the look of her own nebulous thoughts about the entirety of the mystery that was Espia coming together in her mind. “You want something else… or Comstar wants something else…

Yes, you are correct. The presence of the Green Knights here on this planet has created an… opportunity, for the Order,” He paused and studied Reya like a professor lecturing a student. ”More than one opportunity, as it were…” His glance drifted off again. “Had Colonel Gaius Wayne’s company never come to this planet, it would have been more difficult to leverage what we suspect.

What do you mean?

As I'm sure you are aware, many things about this planet are indeed, merely for appearances-

There's no need to be cryptic with us, Jerrard,” Cassandra said, arching an eyebrow and leaning back in her chair. “I want the Green Knights exonerated today.

Jerrard gave a small chuckle and calmly sipped from his cup again. “You see how she speaks with me?” He said in a quiet tone of feigned offense, looking at Reya as if she were a neutral party. “The data you presented will allow me to apply pressure, but you will need to have faith in the methods that I select.

As long as it gets done.

You have my word.

Reya started to speak, but stopped as a cloaked figure approached. The form was vaguely feminine, but hard to tell for certain. The hood hovered next to Jerrard’s ear and whispered a message leaving him with a slight hint of annoyance. He took in a breath and exhaled. “How tiresome.

Are we boring you?” Cassandra asked.

Jerrard shook his head with a small grin and his expression lightened from whatever the news had been. The Adept stepped back, but did not leave. “Cassandra, you could hardly ever be boring, such is the spice of life for an old man in retirement.” He motioned with one hand to Reya. “You’ve even brought Miss Wyatt here for us to host.

Retirement?” Reya glanced at him strangely.

Semi-retired.” Cassandra corrected with a tilt of her head back towards Reya indicating it was some matter of jest between the two of them.

Yes, ‘semi’ retired.” Jerrard acknowledged. “There was a time when I was not far removed from the First Circuit, I was physician to Primus Tiepolo for most of my career. We graduated from the same university on Atreus. He was a good friend and convinced me to join the Order as a member of his staff. He instructed me on the operations of the HPG network though it was not my forte.

So what happened? I know he passed away.

Jerrard gave a small sigh at a passing thought. “Julian had an excellent read on people and was a fair judge even when his colleagues chose to betray him. He understood the balance of the First Circuit tilting towards what it has become and advised me to leave for a remote posting. He facilitated my appointment on Espia and so here I am, enjoying… semi-retirement.

Reya hesitated, glancing at Cassandra who seemed to be momentarily entertained with the exchange. She knew he had left the air hanging just to toy with her curiosity just like the chopsticks left for only her place at the table. The momentum of her mind and the conversation were building as if he had been waiting since before they even sat down. The possibilities about what else he knew about her were burning through her psyche, but something told her not to ask, begged even, something dark in the back of her mind that was afraid of what she would hear. If she didn't ask though, she’d be a fool for wasting the opportunity and the fear of never getting another chance to question someone of his rank and knowledge was impossible to ignore. She knew it was selfish, but her conscience bargained that whatever else she could get out of him might potentially help the Knights.

And so that’s all there is?

What else do you wish to know?

She hesitated for a moment, but the courage came:“What do you know about me?

Jerrard regarded her and Reya felt like his glance pierced directly through her like some spirit she’d allowed into her home and now had to confront.

ISF agents this far out of Kuritan space are easily noticed despite their attempts at subterfuge. At first we suspected they were after your Dr. Yuri, but there was nothing in her past of note other than conflict with the Kuritan policy towards mercenaries, so she was not enough to stir their interest, having been with your Colonel for some time. So there was something or someone else with which they were interested.

Reya’s countenance turned as white as the tablecloth at the mention of the ISF and Cassandra’s glance seemed to fall somewhere between wonderment and pity at her travel partner, though she was clearly interested in how scandalous the story was going to be. Reya looked down at the table like a child caught in a terrible lie. While her mind raced, her voice was quiet, barely audible over the distant hum of the city and the breeze across the terrace. “It’s because I’m not on the payroll, you wouldn’t see me on the roster… I didn’t need the money…

Quite. You certainly caused us to look deeper than a cursory update to the MRB and at that point my interest was piqued. You did cover your tracks well enough, but your work here spoke very loudly. Once my agent had fully profiled the Green Knights, I was able to uncover the connections that brought you here. I suspected you used Dr. Yuri as something of a template when you were selecting a mercenary outfit for your adventure. She was evidence the Green Knights were a safe home for Combine citizens, despite the prejudices of Colonel Wayne, while the size of the company would leave you outside the notice drawn by a higher profile organization."

Yes.

My child, you greatly underestimated your significance. There was simply no possibility the Combine was going to let one of their most treasured instruments of the Imperial Institute simply disappear into the Periphery to develop mining lasers, particularly with your pedigree and academic history…” He spoke calmly as if describing something both beyond belief and which she should have been shockingly aware. “However, I made arrangements to send their operatives in all manner of wrong directions and we have since watched your career with great interest.

Well aren't you the little celebrity.” Cassandra nearly had to stifle a laugh.

Reya felt like she was simply going to sink through the chair itself. Now not only were they still fighting for their lives, even if they got off this hellscape of dirt and salt, she would have the ISF hunting for her just to drag her back home. The dishonor to the family name would be unbearable and there was no telling what they might do if anyone from Knights tried to stand in their way. She never believed they would care enough to come after just one person with no royal ties or relations, but they had apparently made it all the way to the other side of the Inner Sphere looking. Her heartbeat hit so hard that it was a physical pain. She swallowed a dry lump in her throat that felt like a boulder before she looked back at Jerrard. “So you were helping me?

In some ways, yes.” Jerrard replied, catching a faint eye roll from Cassandra. He continued, casual with the topic no differently than if he’d been discussing the weather: “As I’m sure you are aware, there was a time that the Order would have likely seen fit to place a mind such as yours into an… unfortunate accident. Some would even say we are still no more removed from that philosophy than we were a century ago. Such actions have sadly given us all the reputation we now carry, but this was never the intention of our Progenitor-

Reya cut him off, feeling a burst of defiance she knew was only hopeless logic: “So if I had just been killed in the coup with the others- then what would you have done?” She could feel tears in her eyes.

Miss Wyatt,” Jerrard began. His tone changed and was subtly anew with a sense of consolement and even warmth. “Like yourself, I am a student of science, however as I have grown older and spent more time within the Order, I came to accept that the nature of some things in this reality require a certain measure of… faith. You escaped the capital that day, you survived living as a vagabond in the woods, in a cave no less, then again with no experience as a soldier or a spy, you survived a combat raid and a bout of espionage and still in spite of the odds of success in all of this and the added probability of you being personally delivered to this facility, here you sit, at this table, at this time with evidence of great value to our Order that will simultaneously exonerate the reputation of Colonel Gaius Wayne and his mercenary company... Some of my more devout colleagues would have called it the Will of Blake.

Look now, you’ve scared her to death.

I am a terrible host to be sure, but that was never my intention,” His gaze didn’t leave Reya. “I understand this is a lot for her, but it is better that she is aware of the much larger world to which she has interjected herself.

Reya stared ahead. Her mind was simultaneously blank and a chaotic explosion so fierce that she didn’t think she could form words to her lips, or even put them together cogently. She continued to look at the table set before her, eyes hollow at the simple image of reality provided to her brain. It sounded like Cassandra and Jerrard briefly exchanged some comments about her situation, but she didn’t comprehend any of the words. For the first time in her life, the only solution that she could think of was to just kill herself and be completely removed from the disaster she had caused; saving the rest of the Knights and her family in the act, though before she could generate the visceral thought any further an image of Sunny’s face flashed through her mind, smiling brightly and then Diego and it burned her heart like a fire.

Cassandra appeared to be gathering her bag to depart and end the meeting.

WAIT.” She snapped, looking up. Cassandra appeared bemused by someone thinking to give her an order, a quip formed on her lips, but Reya cut her off and looked back at Jerrard. “Do you know where Lena is?

Jerrard turned back, studying her again. He lifted his hand in a small wave and the Adept folded her hood back, revealing the vibrant green hair of Stiletto. “This is my agent whom you met in North Nui Awa. I assure you, despite her unorthodox appearance, she is exceedingly efficient in her work. She made contact with Miss Von Kemp shortly before she met you. However, like you, Miss Von Kemp has proven particularly resourceful. While I do believe she is most definitely alive, probably not far from where we sit at this moment, I have no recent information on her whereabouts.

"Now that’s out of your system, let’s go." Cassandra said with finality; looking down at Reya as she tossed her bag over her shoulder.

Allow me to see you off from the helipad.

The afternoon breeze gusted over the pad, pulling Reya’s hair towards the sea with the smell of minerals as she walked behind Cassandra’s purposeful stride. Despite the energy she had felt at the end of the conversation, she now felt completely drained and directionless, unsure if or how she would even begin to explain herself. Jerrard and Cassandra again exchanged pleasantries as she stood to the side next to the same cloaked acolyte that had greeted their arrival. Stiletto remained a step behind Jerrard and did not speak, but Reya could feel the eyes of the other woman.

I want you to know that despite what you have learned today, you do not need to fear for the future.” Reya had been looking down and hadn’t even noticed the Precentor now standing in front of her, his hands clasped together in a gentlemanly presentation. She looked up and met his eyes, but felt empty towards anything else he could tell her.

The Order has its… eccentricities,” He continued, his demeanor as calm and serene as it had been nearly the entire time. “But it has been very good to me in my life and it is a generosity that I only rarely get to extend. You have my word that I will ensure the Combine’s agents remain misled, even after you leave this planet.” He stopped, seeming to reflect on the small assembly around him, turning his glance towards the sky and the sparse clouds beginning to hue with orange and red. He took in a slow breath and then exhaled before turning back to her. “Our founder's intention was for knowledge and innovation to be preserved for humanity’s benefit. A budding young mind should not be crushed by dogma or politics, whatever path you choose, Miss Wyatt, should you desire, there would always be a place for you here.

Reya’s countenance shifted in a shocked surprise and her mouth opened slightly at what she heard. Her eyes searched over towards Stiletto who glanced back expressionless then at the other faceless figures clad in their robes. She looked back down for a moment then shook her head slowly, lifting back her gaze back to him. “I- I could never leave the Knights, especially not now…I..

Jerrard raised a hand to stop her, though he looked pleased with the answer. “Most assuredly. I understand, my child, I would be disappointed if you had made such a decision so easily,” He took the flower from his lapel and presented it to her. “This is my sigil, it will grant you access to this facility at any time, the sentries will summon me directly. Perhaps if fate again determines, we will see each other again. May the Peace of Blake go with you.

The helicopter lifted off and Jerrard stood watching it climb into the evening with the sound of the rotors fading into the distance. “Inform Premier Federov I intend to declare the Crimson Fists to be an outlaw command, but do not transmit the message to the MRB. I want you to carefully monitor their communications thereafter. Their reaction is our real action and should disturb their true puppet masters.

Stiletto bowed at the command, but hesitated before leaving.

Speak your mind, my child.” He didn’t turn from watching the helicopter move further into the horizon.

She would have thrived here with us.

Such a convert could never be taken against her will, she would only hate us. She must decide on her own. It is these times when we must have the same hope as the Progenitor. The stars and fate itself will see to her future.

Still, I know it pained you to watch her go.

Jerrard watched the helicopter finally disappear from sight and his shoulders relaxed with a small sigh. “Verily, but such is the way of the universe... So many are called, but so precious few, are chosen.
I'm down for plotting if anyone wants. Hit me up.
I normally don't post WIPs, but i think in this case it may be helpful as we all get on the same page with plotting.

Only one "original" location at the bottom, hope that is okay. Otherwise I pretty much only have background to finish. I didn't want to give away everything in the CS, but wide open to plotting if we get a chat going.



EDIT: All done and ready.
This almost looks like slice of life in a cyberpunk setting. I have a couple ideas and might dabble.
Merry-Go-Round


Aroxy and the rest of the crew of the Merry-Go-Round had barely had a chance to register the successful takedown of the Hunchback before the hull was again rattled to the point where the Von Luckner seemed shutter like some angry war elephant from antiquity, growing more irate with yet another massive hammerstrike to her armor. As the interior lights dimmed and sensor screens flickered, things happened quickly thereafter, but the shift of the energy in the battle was as palpable as the smell of scorched armor and chemical propellant in the air. Almost as soon as the sound of jet noise roared overhead, debris fell over and pranged off their armor like rain. The Panther and Hunchback both exploded, but there was no time to search the periscope for whatever the hell was going on. They needed to put their guns on the next target pronto, and the crew’s silence after the second AC20 strike signaled all were of the same grim sincerity. This was not an unfamiliar position and Aroxy had seen enough in his career to sense the energy in a fight. It was often the same, whether it was a fist fight or a clash of armor. He didn’t need a sensor screen to tell him Merry wasn’t going to take many more high powered shots, the curtain needed to be closed on this circus.

Almost as aggravating as being tagged by two AC20 shots, was Raven’s voice again coming through on comms as if he had somehow sensed Aroxy had turned off the “open” frequency. He didn’t answer the mechwarrior, but if they survived this, there was going to be a certain level of satisfaction to be had at the Colonel’s debrief when it came to signals discipline and some of the Knights’ more enthusiastic warriors. “Keep an eye on that flyer, Helma.” Aroxy growled watching it flash out of effective range.

“Got it!”

Ansel had been slightly knocked out of rhythm by the last hit, but Aroxy could tell by the sound of loader’s work, that the main gun was just about ready to fire again. As the Crusader and Catapult advanced, he could feel his gut tighten with the knowledge the well armored medium mech was still loaded with inferno SRMs. They wouldn’t be able to reverse quicker than the mechs could advance and this was going to be the Fists’ last stand. They had nothing to lose and he could vividly remember how it had only taken a lucky salvo from the Longbow to damage their final drive back in the raid. In a dark corner of his mind, he reckoned if he was a depraved, murderous son-of-a-bitch, a giant target like Merry that was only traditionally armored and not environment sealed like a mech would be exactly what he would take with him if he was about to check out. He could already sense Takka lining up on the mech’s center mass. If Crusader’s were known for nothing else, it was exploding in spectacular ways and that was exactly how this was going to go down- until he heard the squad frequency crackle again:

"Pull… back! Do- let them…. close- -tankers or… treat; -ox them …the bridge!"

He wasn’t sure if a piece of falling Mechbuster had pranged off the antenna or it was just the haggard gasp of Daschke’s nearly wrecked Ostroc, but it instantly reminded him of the briefing: All else fails, we bring the goddamn mountain down on them..

“Takka! Hit the bridge now!” Aroxy barked. “Helma, everything into the structure. We’ll take our chances with the flyboy.”
Jonathan McCord


The first azure bolt snapped up from the pathway where the Crimson Fists had first arrived to traverse the pass. Ripping through howling bands of snow, undisturbed by the force of wind, the shot pulsed high overhead and caught the southern turning Mechbuster squarely under the nose as it finished its turn to start a second pass on the Green Knights’ position. Only being an atmospheric fighter, its nominally armored structure was easily pierced by a PPC which ignited the fuel tank into an orange bloom that quickly transformed into a hydra of burning parts and rich black smoke that scattered over the narrow battlefield.

The separated reticles of Jon’s main guns converged over his left eye as he clicked on the arm lock while the rest of his glance remained expressionless as the remains of the fighter fell through the canyon in pieces between the opposing lances. The next shot would only be one PPC and the AC5 together. He would have preferred to enter the fray with a combined salvo, but the Mechbusters hadn’t exactly been a bullet point on the scant briefing. However, with one barrel cycling, he was ready to set up for a very familiar alternating pattern. Like a choreographed dance or the experienced movements of a boxer in the ring, the mech’s steps and the cooldown timing of the weapons would keep the Marauder’s heat in check while the frigid cold of the mountain peak would give him a little extra edge. As everyone turned their attention to the sudden explosion in the air, Jon gently eased his crosshairs over the back of the ragged Panther’s armless form as it engaged the Knights’ Phoenix Hawk, letting the axis lines daintily drift over the left torso before his grip calmly closed on the trigger.

Both weapons erupted together in an instant sending a sleek tracer and a second refined bolt downrange into the back of the light mech cooking off the whole chassis like a stack of fireworks from the waist up. Before the pilot had a chance to react, the torso had exploded into a chaotic blue plume of free reaction mass. Jon’s thumb hovered over the medium lasers as the light mech fell away, but he kept his trigger discipline as the surprise set in and the L-Shape of the ambush was formed in reverse with the Knights. The two quick shots would be hard to follow on just the sensor screen alone, particularly with the high interference emanating from the Knights’ Raven while the lasers would easily trace right back to his position at the southeastern entrance to the pass. He scanned briefly in the chaotic moment. No Firestarter, unless it was already down, while the Von Luckner leveled the Hunchback with a murderous salvo from its main gun and missile batteries, bowling the mech over and removing its left arm. Several of the Knights looked equally worse for wear, but they needed to press now.

Jon could see the muted light flickering from that forsaken “open” frequency as the chaos really set in, but he wasn’t on any of the Knights’ signals instructions so they were going to have to visually coordinate the best they could. He reluctantly hoped the remaining Mechbuster would have some pause after seeing his wingman get the chop on the first pass though from what he knew about aerospace jockeys, they tended to come in two varieties: Bat shit crazy and total coward, though anyone insane enough to strap into a cannon with wings and no armor and fly into this weather was either terrified of their command or every bit of the latter. If the Knights could push the opportunity, they could give them something else much more to fear.
Merry-Go-Round


Aroxy watched Tarak’s Phoenix Hawk dance out of the way just in time for the inset barrel of the Hunchback’s AC20 to be pointed straight at them.

Shit.

Merry took it right on the chin and it was like being smashed by a massive hammer that rattled the crew’s teeth, but the massive tank took it like a wave crashing against a pier. The lights and sensor screens inside the hull flickered briefly, but everything was holding, having absorbed the blast completely through her armor. She is angry. Aroxy thought to himself as he looked back up through the periscope, his view slightly marred by black, scorched soot from the explosion. The Hunchback attempted a kick towards Tarak, but missed and now they were barrel to barrel again, even closer than before, like two battleships in the stories of old and it was time to remind that stocky little bastard about the pecking order of AC20 shooters on the mountain.

“I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.” Takka growled through gritted teeth. Aroxy wasn’t entirely sure if his gunner was referring to Tarak or the Crimson Fist pilot.

“FIRE!” Aroxy barked.

The answer of the Von Luckner’s cannon barked back through the pass and the tank shuttered as the high powered shell roared out of the barrel back at the Hunchback.

“Missiles!” Aroxy commanded again. “Give him both racks, Helma.” He knew again. He didn’t have to specify which. The direct hit from the enemy mech had the crew dialed up to eleven. It was real for them. No scratched paint, dancing around, showboating or giving speeches. Helma slammed the launch controls for both the Von Luckner’s short range batteries at the same time sending an angry cloud of missiles right behind Takka’s shot out of the main gun. “Keep an eye on that Crusader, Helma.” Aroxy said scanning, eyes darting fast, assessing, prioritizing. He didn’t have time to notice whatever had transpired as the Firestarter fell, but he was most definitely trying to keep the Knights’ more abused mech jocks in the fight. They needed to move. “Takka, shift left, make ready to fire again, don’t block the TAG beam.” He said watching Ziska’s battered Raven skittering by with an arm missing, but still keeping its nearly invisible TAG beam trained. He could hear Ansel working, knowing just by the sound of his loader’s movements where he was in the reload as he felt the tracks begin to bite in opposite directions and rotate the hull.
Jonathan McCord


Jon had piloted the machine beneath him almost his entire life, since he was tall enough to reach the pedals. Only his time in the infantry and as a regular in the Taurian Defense Force had separated him from Ossie’s cockpit. It was more than enough time combined with experience to know the feel of battle reverberating up through the ground long before he entered sensor range. The footing under the Marauder’s angular gait was treacherous even for a standard walker and he had to be patient with his own sense of urgency as several steps swung the weapon pods over nothing but empty chasms of rock and icy fog below. The wind blew harder and the snow picked up the closer he got, having left the regular trail some time ago. He wasn’t long on Espia, far before the coup, that he’d taken time to get to know the pass as a part of his territory under Cassandra’s contract as well as a shortcut that would make for an easy place to get lost. The battlemech stepped carefully, as if examining its footing cautiously under the reins of its rider. A few more twists and he would be there. A forceful wind blew up underneath the seventy-five ton machine enough to give him pause and remind him there was still one more point of business to handle.

Considering what he had learned about Gaius Wayne and his company, he was fairly confident the Colonel ran a high level of Opsec despite the flamboyant attitudes of many of his employees. Standard practice in any regular outfit was never to use the same signals plan twice so the frequency sets he’d been given at the dam engagement were likely useless at this point and he’d be talking to nothing but static. However, he did know how much the Colonel liked to direct battle from the ancient Mobile HQ he’d seen when he met the Knights back in the northern mountain. Assuming they had their antenna up, which he was sure they did, he needed to let them know of his approach before his again unknown IFF triggered a hail of fire from both sides when he arrived on the scene. Jon’s knowledge of the pass gave him a pretty good idea where the Colonel would have parked the ungainly vehicle after navigating the routes available to wheeled platforms. All he had to do was point a VHF radio burst in the right direction and hope he got an answer. He wasn’t worried about anyone intercepting the transmission. There wouldn’t be anyone crazy enough to be perched, freezing their ass off at just the right time to catch the transmission let alone understand it or further, do anything about it.

Morse code, for the few that still knew it, remained a slick and easy way to put data in the air, particularly after the devastation of the Succession Wars and the general destruction of most high technology from the old days. Jon couldn’t brag about being particularly skilled, but as a recon infantryman he knew enough to satisfy the squad comms geek. As he hit a switchback in the trail with a broad shot up the mountain to where he reckoned the Colonel and his staff, of what looked like kids, would probably have the large vehicle parked. He tapped a few commands into the comms deck and brought up a list of quick brevity codes as the antenna went up on the back of the mech’s torso. He set the lines to repeat on the higher end of the spectrum and fired off the broadcast on repeat leaving a break between bursts:

FREN
MAD3
AVC


With any luck, they would be listening, granted he was correct in the direction he aimed the transmission. A simple spectrum analysis would tell them what frequency he was on and give them a chance to answer and coordinate. He figured the kids would be lost to his subterfuge, but the Colonel would likely understand the use of the code and the seldom monitored frequency range.
Merry-Go-Round


“Fucking shit, is this a mech lance or debate team?!” Helma growled. The LRM rack flashed green on her display indicating the reload was completed and with Ziska’s NARC newly attached to the Crusader, she didn’t hesitate to put another salvo in the air. The missiles roared out the rack, arcing vertically in another processional line that went right after the beacon.

“Holy shit, does he ever shut up?” Ansel said, hurriedly finishing the loading of a fresh armor piercing round for Merry-Go-Round’s main gun as Family Man walked up nearby and the Shadow Hawk’s steps shook the ground beneath them.

Aroxy didn’t have much to say, but he calmly reached up and turned off the open band scan about halfway through Raven’s speech as he watched the Crimson Fists’ response to the initial ambush through the periscope. He shook his head a little at the constant talking of the Knights. These mechwarriors weren’t nearly scared enough and there was still a strong possibility that they could lose this fight. A group of mercs capable of the slaughter for which the Fists had just engaged were not to be underestimated and were far beyond haughty lecture.

“Somebody needs to put his ass on decaf.” Takka said right after the radio went silent. He was just about lined up again on the Hunchback and made a few last adjustments on the shot right as Ansel announced the gun was ready with a shout.

Aroxy’s face was stern and unemotional as both the mangled Ostroc and missile-scarred Raven retreated in front of the Von Luckner’s barrel. It wasn’t the ambush he would have planned, but Daschke was leading the element and this was the way she wanted it. He wanted to reposition, however he needed Takka to get his confidence back and putting more variables into the gunnery equation would only make it more difficult. It was a risk worth taking he had decided in less than the blink of an eye. They were still the Knights’ overall hardest hitter and his gunner’s aim had the potential to make the difference. “Check that wind, Takka.” He said, observing the black smoke rolling from the exposed arm socket on Susser Todd.

“Got it, Cap.” There was the confidence of a fresh shell in the barrel within his voice. Despite the calamity of their first salvo, he felt ready this time and his mind repeatedly traced the arc of the last shell through the air compensating in the angle of the barrel towards the broadside of the Hunchback’s main weapon.

Aroxy was right on the verge of giving the FIRE command when Tarak’s Phoenix Hawk came blazing right across Merry-Go-Round’s line of fire.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Takka howled, jumping up in his straps at the sight of the humanoid mech vaulting right in front of his shot on the Hunchback. “TELL THAT STUPID COCKSUCKER TO GET OUTTA THE WAY!” He roared as Helma chimed in with a similar string of colorful epitaphs directed at the Mechwarrior. She could see the whole thing from her viewport.

Aroxy grit his teeth, even more glad though that he had switched off the radio. Like the enemy before, his own side had committed the classical Mech Jock gaffe of forgetting about the ground armor.
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