Gabby grinned at Tobias comments as she peeked out of her cover. The two russian-made APCs were grumbling forward, spaced well apart. They were impressive looking machines; angular and brutish with huge wheels and a pugnacious profile. The turret atop each one held a powerful automatic cannon that was more than capable of turning either of the battlesuits to scrap, making them probably the most credible threat they'd faced so far. Which meant it was a challenge to take them out - and just the way the Israeli operator liked it. Briefly, she licked her lips and took a sip of water from the Stormhounds' internal water supply as she gave a moment of thought to her approach before nodding as she settled on a strategy. "All right, Lionheart. I'm moving in now. Get ready for some more noise!" The fire from the infantry was a distraction, a series of whacks and pings glancing off the suits' thick - comparatively - armour, and registering nothing more substantial than minor or cosmetic damage. She was already moving forward with her plan. A shower of gravel and clods of dirt sprayed into the air as the splayed 'toes' of the Stormhound dug in as she set off at a run. As soon as she broke cover, the suits' smoke launchers blasted out with a series of rapid firecracker-pops and blooming clouds of thick, grey-white smoke. A breath later she'd changed direction, running parallel to the BTR's, and away from their front ends. The guns on the tops of them opened up, but as she'd anticipated; they were firing where she'd [i]been[/i] instead of where she [i]was[/i]. Using the pupil-tracking of her suits targeting systems, she unleashed a chugging volley of 40mm HEDP, aiming low along the side of the BTR closest to her. The rounds hammered home in a rush of heavy explosions and battering concussions, before she spun again, leaping sideways into a shoulder roll - [i]towards[/i] the second of the BTRs as the first sagged on its' wheels on that side. The second BTR, moving parallel and a little behind the first at a good distance away opened up toward her with its' autocannon. Rounds slashed toward her, coming dangerously close, so much so that her suit registered shell splinter damage, and she felt the hammerblows of the concussive impacts even through the suits' armour. But it was a move unpredictable enough that she'd got close enough to hit the next part of her insane plan. A few simple commands set the light-and-sound of her speakers and spotlights into full-on 'disorientation' mode, a pattern of ultra-bright mismatched flashes and high-frequency sounds that were on the verge of nauseating for onlookers. Inside an armoured vehicle, the effect would be minimised, but enough to make any crewman look away from their sights for a few moments - a few enough moments that she could get inside the arc of the gun on the top, and right behind the wheeled APC. Gabby skidded to a halt, taking a knee by the back door of the as-yet undamaged machine. She swiveled as she dropped, and the barrel of the Recoilless Rifle mounted on her suits' shoulder dropped into position. With a hollow [i]boom[/i], a rocket-assisted HEAT round went on its' way, aimed directly at the troop door on the rear of the immobilised BTR. As soon as it was on its' way, she turned to the one in front of her, and grabbed handholds on the rear of the APC, using the suits' strength and agility, she awkwardly scrambled up the rear of the vehicle and onto the top of it. Reaching the turret, she crouched and applied the battlesuits' full strength as she grasped the barrel of the autocannon. Servomotors whining and metal groaning, the autocannon shifted out of alignment. The chainsaw on the underside of the suits' left arm whined to life, and metal-cutting teeth tore through the co-axial 7.62mm machine gun, before swift and brutal wrenches, punches and kicks smashed and twisted the optics, antennae and firing ports of the 8-wheeled APC. Last, but by no means least, Gabby turned the GMG on the rear engine deck of the BTR, letting off a short burst of grenades, hammering the engine from above. Thick black smoke spat and coughed from the exhausts and unhealthy grinding noises followed, before she stamped heavily on the roof of the machine with one foot. "All right, ya bunch of dickheads! Stop this shitheap and come out, or else I get really creative, and really cruel in sealing you in and letting you stew in there!"