Lora came to her senses again covered in a layer of cold sweat tricking through her plugsuit. She swore - once, again, then a last stream that would make mother quite unhappy - and simply lay back, nigh-defeated.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course the broadband extended to all the Frames on the field. Of course they'd hear the plan. Of course they'd have some devious counterattack. Of course that rabid bitch Irina wasn't kidding.
Dynasty was arguably the most unfortunate one caught in the shelling. One of the blasts landed right in front of the Framewerk, stunning the pilot with the shock and causing her to backpedal reflexively- right into one of the pillars. Several luckily-placed explosions following toppled that pillar and two more right on top of her, crushing and practically burying Dynasty in the rubble and remains.
So here she lay, pinned under the ruins of Zone B with nobody but herself to blame. This is just how it was going to be, was it? She tried to reach beyond what she was used to and got kicked down because of it. One could argue the excuse that the cadets as a whole had no way of possibly predicting the exact situation here - but that still all made them helpless from the very beginning with no way to even scrape a plan together. Is this what Lorenzo thought combat would be like?
What was I thinking, signing up for this? Lora lamented. I was young, hormone-addled, angsty. Who would want a subject like that? Why in the flying hells would someone like that ancient scientist see me as useful if he wasn't several decades off his rocker?
"For the love of god, Harold, STOP USING THE DAMN RADIO WHEN THEY CAN STILL HEAR US!" Lora all but screamed over the open comms, her frustration igniting again in her cyclic phases of grief.
And what about you, Lora? What will you do now?
Probably die a horrible pathetic death, she insulted herself, attempting to use the Framewerk to shrug off the debris covering her and earning no response. Lora's Synch rate had dipped all the way down into the single digits with her sheer emotional outburst, lending to the frame practically just being another hunk of metal in a tomb around her as she wrangled the controls maddeningly. Deep down, the pilot knew it shouldn't end like this, but these so many mistakes turned against her just kept making her powerless.
It was aggravating to highest degree, knowing she should have control and instead finding she was doing everything wrong. Yet she still tried, and still her effort bore no fruit.