[color=gray]"Hit them. Go!"[/color]

At the command, Alex's hands flew to the controls as he throttled the MAS into its top running speed, unlimbering the machine's assault rifle as he did so. [color=0072bc]"This is Doughboy, engaging in close quarters at the front, watch for friendly fire."[/color]

A flurry of explosions rippled across the artillery encampment, followed by one of the tanks in the front bursting into a fireball as an AT Warhead plowed into it. Alice was doing what she did best, it seemed.

The MAS had snapped to attention, and was now facing Alex's charge. By the look of it, it was a salvaged Sentry - a bit patchwork, but very functional. Before the enemy pilot could train the autocannon on him, Alex let loose with a burst of fire from his rifle, which was soaked up by the enemy's shields.

The answering salvo went wild, and the Viking crashed into the Sentry with a full shoulder charge. The alloy bayonet crashed through the machine's shields and took it in the chest, puncturing the armor but not damaging any vital systems. Gritting his teeth, Alex yanked on the trigger of his control stick, pouring fire into the vulnerable MAS's chest and mangling the armor of its chest.

A burst of missiles from the MAS's shoulder-mounted launcher caught Alex off-guard and filled his view with smoke, allowing the other pilot to bring his rifle to bear at close quarters. The gun's sustained fire quickly collapsed the Viking's shields, but the advanced alloy plating beneath was able to hold. 

With one arm the Viking forced the gun to the side, while in a practiced motion the other limbered the assault rifle and drew the broad alloy waraxe from the MAS's hip. Alex grimaced as he saw the enemy pilot drawing his own plasma tomahawk. [color=0072bc][i]Time for the wet work,[/i][/color] he thought to himself as the plasma edge on his weapon roared to life.