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She was told to take point, so point was what she took. Fuka shifted the Dragon up ahead of the pack, its elephantine feet sending up clouds of irradiated rock dust with every lumbering stop. She didn't have the total oblivious required to lie about her lack of elegance in piloting, and she was far too prideful to let anyone know how much it bothered her. Still, it warranted more time in the simulators when she was back onboard the Ankhanne.

The samurai kept an eye on the scout signatures pinged to her neurohelmet, hoping that they would prove to be suicidally overconfident and try and tangle with the lance. Her score was bleak at the moment, and a few easy snipes would really raise her mood. But alas, no such luck. Instead she had to focus on ramming her cockpit into the ground. Every step had to be deliberate, careful to avoid the more awkwardly protruding rocks lest they-

An explosion blasted apart the mechbay's doors, Fuka turning her guns on the source too slowly to stop a shell from ripping through the Dragon, the entire mech shuddering and staggering as Fuka fought to keep her balance with the new hole punched through her leg. 

[color=cadetblue]"HIT! Right leg is fucked!"[/color] 

The culprit was a Hunchback, its hilariously overkill mega cannon a lot less funny when she was on the receiving end. She had been caught off-guard by the assault and found herself trying to lean on the leg now partially splattered across the irradiated snow. The neurohelm helpfully relayed the Dragon's precarious position by absolutely donkey-punching her inner ear, Fuka fighting the sensation of seasickness while just barely managing to keep from going prone. 

All the while, VTOLs came screaming over the horizon while little jump-jet fuckers dropped in from the heavens, each one the potential source of an anti-armor charge. It was a hell of a lot to manage on one's first job and a hell of a lot for supposed pirates to have on hand.

All in all, her first time being on the receiving end of an ambush sucked. But unlike a certain FedSun Failure, she was determined to come out of it victorious...or at least manage to blow her brains out before they could manage to toss her into a cell.  

The Slave in question was flooding the comms with garbage, Fuka handily ignoring him as she fired all but one of her weapons wildly. But when you were as good a shot as she was, spray and pray got results. Her own autocannon, much smaller and more impotent than the one strapped to the Hunchback (damn, did she want to salvage that Hunchback!), was nonetheless accurate, a shell crashing into the enemy mech's right leg. Her medium laser followed Ulrik's, Fuka helping to melt through all that armor. 

The Rippers were a secondary issue but an issue nonetheless, and as expected Alvin wasn't capable of dealing with problems he couldn't grovel his way out of. Fuka picked up his slack with a missile barrage, her LRM spitting a stream of high explosives at the pack of transports. Three managed to evade the attack, but the fourth suffered a direct hit, the missile blasting open the back half. What remained of the transport dropped like a rock, careening towards the ground while Fuka deftly flicked her comms to  HER-4K's private channel. 

[color=cadetblue]"That's how it's done, housepet!"[/color] she barked, lameleggedly dragging herself back behind the Centurion for cover.