Rhona W — Roleplayer Guild

"Fireteam has the captain! headed for the warehouse, Sir!"
"Good work, step on it," replied the fox brusquely, "We'll try and keep the imps occupied for ya, over".
As soon as he said that, more rounds hammered into the pavement and the surrounding buildings. IR had determined they were empty, along with confirmation from the civil defence forces. Missile teams on a rooftop took daring potshots at one of the Imperial GEARs, and Blade applauded their bravery mentally.

At the location of the other half of the team, the Mid-range artillery GEARs continued to send rounds downrange, while their companions moved to pin Irry and Kuraiko in place and hunt them down. 
As Ken's helicopter moved in to make its' run, they attempted to scatter, popping chaff, flares, and smoke - but it was all too little, too late; the missiles homed in. Two went off course and self-detonated after missing their targets. One more didn't arm, and one was shot down by fluke by head-guns from one of the Imperials. But the remaining four found targets. Two plowed into one of the artillery GEARs and turned it to a rapidly expanding cloud of debris; their warheads were designed to destroy MBT's. The light armour of a GEAR was no match for them as a result. 
The remaining pair of missiles each found one of the other GEARs. The second artillery GEAR took a round to the upper torso, blasting it into scrap. The final missile didn't hit directly, but severed the right arm from one of the defending machines, leaving an opening for Kuraiko and Irry to advance. 
As the helicopter slashed overhead, the Imperial GEARs didn't stay still; one swivelled on the spot, and bracketed the sights of anti-air missiles over the speeding helicopter and launched a brace after it, empty tubes ejecting from its' shoulders. 

Irry moved rapidly as Kuraiko took a firing stance. While her GEAR was the same model as Blades', it was a line variant instead of command, lacking the dual head-antennae for the C3i system. Instead, it's backpack hardpoints and head were clustered with the antennae, show its' specialization in electronic warfare and surveillance. Nonetheless, while its' main strength was in subtle and invisible forms of war, it still maintained regular weapons as well. The red panda slewed her GEAR into a skidding slalom across the street, rifle held outstretched in a high grip. Shells clattered to the ground as she hammered a burst into the GEAR aiming at Ken and Dane's ride, cratering impacts dotting the asphalt around it, before climbing up it's leg and arm. Return fire lashed back as she weaved into shelter behind a building, dropping an empty mag to the floor. 
Antennae and aerials extended as she sheltered, rapidly tapping holographic keys and icons. Invisibly, electronic signals and pulses emanated from her mecha, and fuzzed the Imperial sensor channels and communications grid. 
"Ought to slow the buggers down a bit," she remarked with a grin. "Jacquo here - jamming the Imperials sensors and commo channels. They should be reliant on optical and IR only at close range. No overwatch from above, and no radio for them, over".

The change was obvious immediately; the Imperial team moved slower and with less surety as they continued. The two remaining GEARs in the vicinity of Kuraiko and Irry bunched up; both damaged. Aihara's bursts of fire only made things worse, as the one-armed GEAR fell back, firing from the hip with its' rifle as it wheeled backward down the street; into an ambush of anti-armour rockets from a rooftop, which bought it to its' knees. Moments later, the pilot ejected as the GEAR collapsed in on itself. The remaining machine took flight with jumpjets, crossing two streets in an attempt to join up with the rest of its' team.

At their position, Blade held position behind a parked-up semi-trailer, the Harlock crouched and offering suppressive fire with its' rifle. So far only Mike had managed to counter-attack, his nimble movements and bursts of fire giving the enemy wary pause.
“Four hostiles confirmed, headin’ our way—and they just broke half ‘n’ half. Cap, you got a plan, now’s the time,”
"Yeah, fuggen' shoot 'em!" he growled to himself. Before he could say much more, there was a break in the barrage and Aidan rushed forward, brandishing an uprooted lamp-post as a club. He watched with glee as the canines' GEAR swung the improvised weapon and smashed one of the Imperial GEARs with enough strength to stagger it, and mangle the front of its' head. The interruption in fire was what the fox was waiting for, and he popped up from cover, leaping the truck-trailer and firing the underbarrel grenade launcher at the second support gunner. The grenade exploded at surface contact, smashing the GEAR backward, in tandem with Irry's message about commo support. 
Immediately, he launched a salvo of smoke-and-chaff grenades from his mortar, centering them on the enemy, and established datalinks with Keel and Nawlin.
"Keel, Nawlin - use the targeting data and hit the enemy while their comms are down. I'll give suppressive fire with the mortar-"
He was about to continue further when the first barrage of rounds from the enemy artillery arrived, cratering the surroundings. Plumes of debris shot up all around them, blinding his sensors with sheer visual noise from all of the flying material. Minor damage reports echoed in his ears, followed by more severe one was teh enemy used the confusion to open fire, the Harlock ringing from impact damage to the right leg, right arm, and torso. Something was shattered and damaged, but he could still move-
"They're firing the artillery, th-"
"Blade Aidan's down, building's on his GEAR!"
"Fuck!" blurted the fox with a snarl, spinning on the spot as the fire subsided all of a sudden, and two of enemy blinked as 'NULL' on the C3i map. A third followed shortly after, with the fourth headed their way.
"Fucking fuck it!" he seethed at the changing display. Aidan's GEAR was half buried; he could see parts of Stumpy protruding from the debris pile. Being buried in a collapsing building was one of the worst problems a GEAR could face. While the machines were sturdy, they relied on a lot of complex moving parts, and were carefully balanced. Too much weight, and they got stuck easily. However, another GEAR could dig them out - if they weren't under fire. 
"Keel, Nawlin - keep up the suppressive fire-" he cut himself short as the missile team he'd seen earlier finished off the GEAR Aidan had already damaged by planting two anti-armour rockets into its' chest. At the same time, a wheeled AFV zipped out of a side street, and loosed off a three-round burst of fire from its' turret-mounted 90mm gun at another of the GEARs, smashing its' knee joint on one leg, and blasting an arm free. 
"All right," he murmured. "Go home team. As I was saying," he continued, "Keep up the suppressive fire. Jacquo, Aihara, pincer them - close in from behind and box them in. Maxwell, pick 'em off from above once we box 'em in! Work with the locals while we have the comms advantage, we need to finish this quick before whatever's in that warehouse joins in. I'll work on getting Aidan out of the rubble!"
Turning to the pile, he quickly moved the Harlock to the task, metal-shod fingers prising at the pile of timbers, brick, glass and plaster to excavate the trapped GEAR as fast as possible.

The warehouse, in the meantime remained eerily silent. Kellia heard all the chaos from her position a short distance away, and caught snippets of the comm-chatter through her hi-jacked link into the network, before her specialized PADD blinked to life once more with the voice of her 'friend' in her ear once more.
"Kellia, I have more news. Worrying news; there is an intermittent signal closing in rapidly from the due south. I am not registering any hits on ground radar or seismic sensors, which means it is an air target. However, I can detect no visual confirmation and only transient radar or Infra Red signatures... and the signal is large, and moving fast. I estimate an ETA of six minutes. I believe if we are to recover the princess and her information, we should do it before that time. It is not transmitting, and is showing no IFF of any kind... I imagine it is hostile, as it seems to be almost directly on course for the warehouse"
"R-right," she stammered in reply, before stabbing at the PADD and finding the channel for the Roughriders' comms net. "Um, Roughriders? This is Kellia. I have confirmation that there's some kind of air target closing in. Large, and moving fast - it should be here in six minutes, and it's not showing any IFF. I think it's a hostile, heading for the warehouse! If we're going to get the princess out, we need to do it before it gets here!"

"Scott, I want you to keep point- we're headed down this alley, it should take us out to the Strøget. No doubt there will be civies, and possibly cops too...watch fire when you can, and watch any runners"

"Sir," Scott replied with a nod, swinging up and around the cover as he moved off, keeping the P90 at port arms. He moved hastily, jogging down the asphalt of the street, breath misting in the cold morning air. The thunder of Wendys' cover fire bounced off of the surrounding buildings, and men ahead of him crumpled and collapsed spectacularly as the heavy, powerful .50cal bullets impacted. "Great shots, over," he murmured on the tactical channel as he paused to take stock of the scene, before moving on again. Ahead, he could see the moving figures, motioning and yelling to each other as they moved in a group, weapons brandished. At least the streets were relatively clear; that was a small mercy. Nonetheless, the SAS trooper wasn't in the habit of taking wild pot-shots. He dug his toes in as he ran, trying to eat up a much ground between them as he could. The sooner he caught up to them and stopped them, the better. And that would need a close, personal touch. His breath huffed and heaved as he ran, and he pulled the P-90 up to his shoulder once more, thumbing the fire-selector dial to semi, and taking a shot. It ripped through the knee of one of the group, and he collapsed to the ground, thinning the carriers' entourage further. Now, he'd bought the distance between them down. Would they stop and turn to engage? He hoped to high heaven the carrier didn't choose to just detonate the bomb if he caught up; but he had to try, whatever else. Setting a determined look on his face, he grunted and hammered himself into running harder to try and catch them.

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