metalraindrops

[metalraindrops]

perpetualxfire:

 (I mean that’s what happened to me with Thylacoleo.)

(then you already know how to conquer the desire sensor)

[metalraindrops]

perpetualxfire:

 (how do i kill it)

(you give up and decide to go do something else you’re looking to do

and then as you do it, BOOM, an entire herd of mostly male spinosauruses)

[metalraindrops]

apex-piloting:

“How about my way?” He had called out. “Monarch Chassis confirmed. Modification detected.” BRT called out internally. She hardly noticed. She was too focused on trying to remember where she heard that voice from earlier. It was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She wasn’t so distracted, however, that she forgot she was in the field. The instant he rounded that corner, she laid it on, her brain only catching up to her eyes after she spat out 17 rounds from her cannon, and she immediately let go of the trigger.

A Vortex Shield? Great. That’s when she began noticing other things. Like the 40mm cannon in the other hand of her opponent, and that her Titan was providing notification of an enemy lock, her HUD helpfully supplying that it was coming from the Titan in front of her. It was almost like this guy wanted a Vanguard of his own, but couldn’t make the cut into Briggs’ SRS. “Hey, BRT, this guy doesn’t look like he’s earned any Upgrades from his core, wanna check to see how close he is?” “Affirmative.” While he did that, she appraised her situation with her opponent, the missiles themselves weren’t a problem, she could dash just before impact or let her shields soak them. But her little blunder would add to the damage she’d take, and that 40mm was a nasty piece of work in the right hands. There was a reason it was the most used weapon back in the days of the original three Titans.

So, she’d dash to dodge the missiles, then see if he’d follow up with the 40mm, she’d throw up the Gun Shield once her shields hit 10% and let’em recharge. And the instant that Vortex went down, she’d start charging up a Power Shot. If he ran, she’d back up and track his movement if she could, leading her shot to deal as much damage as she could the instant he popped out of cover. “Pilot. The enemy Titan has a Core charge of 0%, in fact; it is safe to say they have disabled their Core entirely.” She stifled a laugh  at that. “BRT, tightbeam ‘im.” She had to mock him for this. By the time a live feed of her appeared in the top right corner of his HUD, displaying her from the chest up, with a white line pointing from it to her Titan, she had completely broken into laughter. “Oh- Oh this- this is too good!” She managed between bursts of laughter. “You actually disabled the Core of your Titan, on the Titan Chassis that needs it the most!? You fucking moron! Oh, by the Void you Militia types make this way too easy!”

It had been a good move, pre-emptively charging the Vortex Shield. Of course, it hadn’t been fast enough to keep one or two rounds from carving neat gouges into VEGA’s arm, but he caught the other 15 rounds quite excellently. The 20mm ammunition swirled around in the vortex shield as all twelve target locks solidified and the Acolyte pods fired, disgorging multi-target missiles towards the enemy Legion.

In the split-second it took to consciously fire the missiles Douglas realized the Legion he was facing down had stopped firing; they were smart enough to realize the Vortex was a problem. That meant it wasn’t going to be the Legion-countering tool it was against bad Pilots; of course, however, it was now a convenient ace in the hole to keep a long string of fire from coring VEGA out. The Pilot released the Vortex Shield, before grasping back onto the 40mm and beginning the followup exactly as predicted.

He didn’t stop moving, though - VEGA continued to strafe to the side towards another set of buildings as he fired. Against any Ogre-type, mobility was your best friend. Sitting still was inviting the Reaper into your cockpit.

Oddly enough, the Apex pilot chose to tightbeam. Something about her voice was indeed recognizable as she mocked Douglas for having disabled VEGA’s Upgrade Core, but Douglas was too focused on the actual firefight to try and pick out exactly what it was. VEGA would probably record it; he could jog his memory later. For now, though, he was at least going to indulge this Apex in her banter.

VEGA knew not to transmit video, though. Just audio.

“I’ve been trying to get it switched out, but it’s a damn shame you people make it so hard to do! You don’t build Titans like you used to any more!”

A Siege In Time

[metalraindrops]

warfares-bridge:

Jacob suddenly shot up, scanning the environment around him. It was completely foreign, a multitude of floating platforms of compacted sot surrounded by a purple, swirling storm. Getting to his feet and desperately trying to remember how he even got there, he tried to call the rest of his squad, “Elix, J, Alex, do you read?” As he called out, he quickly realized he didn’t have his rifle, finding it next to him and picking it up as he looked over the area in front of him.

@metalraindrops

Douglas rolled over in his sleep. Something seemed a little... off, but he’d just gotten out of a hot zone and he didn’t want to worry about anything that wasn’t either an urgent deployment request or the Monaco going to condition red.

Something pressed into his chest in a very strange way, though, which forced him to open his eyes and take in the grass that he was staring at through his HUD visor. He didn’t have a first thought; he stared blankly at the organic material for a few moments, heedless of everything else going on around him. This wasn’t his room.

After a few moments, he’d finally woke enough to form a coherent thought; this isn’t right. He looked up.

The sky was purple. Clouds billowed about, like one of Apogee’s hurricanes. Wind blew against the combat armor he’d found himself in. Douglas took a second to look around, taking stock of the situation he’d managed to find himself in as his training kicked in. Step One was figuring out where he was. Step Two was taking inventory. Step Three was securing a means of survival.

Step Four was getting out.

[metalraindrops]

onelastpatrol:

Sheila looked up from treating her patient just in time to see the first plasma warheads strike the Titan’s arm. She bit back a curse and put her head back down, only briefly registering the fact the trio had turned back around to fire at the stalkers. For she was too busy with one patient. The other? Unfortunately, the victim of the indiscriminate fire of the enemy. Their firing high and low had scored on one of them, but it enraged the other wounded man. Despite his inability to stand, he grabbed his rifle again, and aimed for the enemy who couldn’t walk, yet still crawled towards them. 

Somebody in the squad shouted towards Douglas, “deal with the feckin’ enemy Titan! We’ve got these feckers!” 

Something flew out from the pinned squad. To the trained eye it was recognisable as an arc grenade, as it landed at the feet of one particular enemy. The man who threw it couldn’t resist following it up with, “Hope you loike loightnin’, you fecker!”

The Stalkers were designed to overwhelm enemy positions simply by being too tough to normally displace. Strategically, they were almost more of a psychological weapon than anything else; the sheer bulk of their armor and the lack of response to weapons fire intended to terrify frail, human Militia defenders into abandoning their positions.

Of course, however, that didn’t work against the people who knew how they worked, or were tough enough to simply continue holding the line regardless. An arc grenade stunned most of the rest of the Stalkers, and after several more seconds of gunfire they were all destroyed, leaving the Atlesians free to focus on the skirmishers (if any still remained).

“On it! Don’t go and get yourself killed out there, you hear?” Douglas’ Titan stormed off into the underbrush, charging towards the Ion’s position. It wasn’t his smartest move, but he wasn’t sure where they were and the fact that Ion was firing on them meant it had a war-output reactor slowly trickling charge down into the capacitors of a laser cannon whose output per second could be measured in megawatts. Within a moment he’d disappeared from view - though you could still very clearly hear his footfalls and the report of VEGA’s weapons.

Push

[metalraindrops]

solitarius-lupus-canticum:

“I sure as hell hope so,” Artemis dropped her hand, and gave a weary smile. “‘Cause I can tell you right now, it sure as shit sucks to lose your Titan.”

It was awkward, at least for a week or so after everything had been sorted out. But, as to be expected, things progressively got better, settling into a natural routine once that particular shore leave had ended. Of course, it helped that the hopes for the Typhon Protocol to work came true; KAT was able to be salvaged from Artemis’ helmet and placed into a Smart Core, which that was then placed into a Monarch-class chassis. Of course, it didn’t happen right away, because it wasn’t like there were a ton of spare Smart Cores or Monarchs just lying around, but it happened.

That made things a lot easier on the battlefield, and a lot easier on the Pilot, too; her best friend was back and in one piece.

Didn’t mean everything was easier, though. The IMC was still gunning for the Militia, and Voyager were working their asses off in combat mission after combat mission. Like the one they were on currently, in which half the team were under heavy fire, and everyone else was spread far and wide, which meant it would take some time for them to assist those pinned down.

“These guys just pop up wherever they want to, don’t they?” Artemis lamented, after KAT stomped on one IMC Grunt before punting another into atmosphere.

The days went by. It was a little easier to breathe with the elephant out in the open, and the next day Douglas had managed to bounce back (a personal record; usually it took him a few days to bounce out of things).

A weight seemed to lift from the entire ship when it turned out the Typhon Protocol had worked; KAT had been bootstrapped back up from her core AI subroutines, and a few days later she found a new home inside another Monarch-class chassis (which earned the two of them a lot of teasing from Douglas about stealing his thunder).

Life returned to normal, or at least, as normal as it got when you were a Pilot fighting the IMC at every opportunity for fame and cash.

Douglas, in contrast to Artemis’ brutal combat style, had hunkered down pragmatically, pummeling anything that tried to get a shot off into submission with 40mm rounds while closing infantry were dusted with sprays of multi-target missiles. “They’re like termites, they’ve got a real nasty habit of getting everywhere and ruining all your stuff if you don’t run pest control!”

Not Just Average Joes

[metalraindrops]

Owed Response Call

(Yeah, this is a little weird, but I’ve been hearing Tumblr’s notifications have been a little fucky as of late. If I owe anyone a response to their posts, please reply with a link to the post I need to respond to and I’ll get right to it!

Exceptions being; solitarius-lupus-canticum (I know I owe you for the Titanfall thread) and onelastpatrol (your response to Push showed up and I’ll get to that soon!). I’m just trying to cover my ass in case anything else went wrong.)

[metalraindrops]

solitarius-lupus-canticum:

“And yet you have seen what strange outside forces can do to said metal friend.”

Regretfully, Artemis pulled away from the embrace - when had she ever done such a normally unthinkable action? - and there was guilt and regret swimming in her eyes. Well, at least, it was visible until she lowered her chin and averted her gaze. Her body language displayed that she did not like what she was about to say, and yet she was about to say it anyway. It was clear that whatever this was, it was big, and it would impact things greatly.

“I am going to turn myself in to the people who once had me under their command in the Office of Naval Intelligence,” the words fell from her lips, as empty-sounding as the dead leaves and twigs that rattled in a fierce breeze, “But I cannot do it alone. I need your help. It is - It is the only way that I can protect everyone I care the most about. I think I have worked out that the one thing I fear the most is myself, and losing control. I have done it before, and there is nothing to say that it cannon happen again. The safest thing for me is to go back into ONI’s hands.

They controlled me once before. They can and will control me again. 

But I cannot cede control to them alone.”

Finally, she raised her chin to meet his gaze, and there were tears in her eyes. “Please, I cannot do this alone…”

The SPARTAN augmentation procedures were a miracle of modern medical science, especially after having gone through a few iterations to make sure side effects were minimal. Douglas might not have gotten his through purely conventional means, but the end result was the same; he thought a lot faster than he used to. It wasn’t magic making him faster to react, his brain was quite literally faster than other human brains were.

He had the time to review that and still held difficulty processing what Artemis said she had planned. After all this time, all this suffering, she was just going to throw herself back at the ONI subdivision that saw her as nothing but a weapon? The same one that caused all of these problems in the first place? As if that would fix things.

It was a lot easier to remain calm than he’d expected, though. He almost didn’t react. Artemis could easily tell that he was stunned by the news, but if nothing else he didn’t seem to be panicing or freaking out over it. Externally, anyways.

“You do realize these are the people who quite literally beat you into compliance, right? The Office of Naval Intelligence is not the solution. The only thing they see you as is a weapon. They’re the reason you are like this in the first place. Going back to them isn’t going to make the problems stop, it’s only going to make them worse.”

Wolf Pack

[metalraindrops]

Two people approached the front door, beginning to speak before one opened the door with a gun pointed towards Douglas. "You've come to the wrong part of town."

Douglas was no stranger to having a firearm pointed in his face. The most important thing to do was not to panic. There were means to de-escalate the situation before local authorities got involved, which was always a pain.

“Well, in that case, how about I turn around and forget I ever saw this place?”

[metalraindrops]

perpetualxfire:

Starter for @metalraindrops!

✮ Chorus was a planet chock full of interesting events, Carolina had learned. War was war, and as long as she knew who the enemy was, she’d find a way to fight them. That was the easy part. The how was the hard part, and this time? She wasn’t sure that this was the enemy. Ever since they’d uncovered how the Mercs were getting their supplies, the armies of Chorus had made joint efforts to make sure that they could leverage as much control over new supplies as possible.

    A giant mech was not an expected ‘drop’, though. And, naturally, upon sighting it, the squadron she’d been asked to lead on this outing came to report it to her. Somehow, she had a feeling that was as much out of fear as it was out of the need to share intell.

    So, with a weapon at the ready (but not pointed - yet), Carolina approached the sight, peering around cautiously as Church ran a bioscan. The mech looked kind of like a Mantis, she supposed, though the comparison was a stretch. Perhaps this was some new military technology; she had been out of the loop for quite some time, as had all of the troops on Chorus. Either way, a mech had a pilot, and Church identified a potential candidate for pilot quickly enough. Male, roughly her age, in good enough health, all things considered… People didn’t typically survive crashes like that. She suspected that his mech had something to do with that.

    Church also alerted her that there was some kind of high level program running in the mech. Of course, he couldn’t identify it without actually jumping into the mech, but the heat signature that the processing core of the mech gave off indicated some work was going on there. It could just be the general running of the mech, or it could be an AI. That was… Interesting. The UNSC wasn’t exactly keen on giving out Artificial Intelligences, after all. If this was UNSC, that is - but she didn’t have a better explanation.

    |│  “ This is Agent Carolina, representing the     |│      combined armies of the planet Chorus. We’ve     |│      identified one living and uninjured human in the     |│      area. We have no desire to engage in hostilities,     |│      but we are prepared to do so if necessary.     |│          Please step out calmly and identify yourself. ”

    That entire sentence, she thought, was far too formal - but what was she supposed to say? ‘Hey man we’re here to help don’t shoot please’? That didn’t give them any information, and it made them sound horribly vulnerable. Anything hostile would certainly take advantage of that. She only hoped she didn’t sound too stringent. ‘First contact’ wasn’t really her thing.

Douglas didn’t like very much about today. He’d woken up inside VEGA, inside a drop pod, falling into the atmosphere of an entirely unknown world. He wasn’t too big a fan of these situations, especially when every known comband but the civilian one seemed to be dead (Militia, IMC, 6-4, hell, even ARES encrypted comms, no activity from any of them), and the military activity he was picking up matched nothing in VEGA’s database.

Sure, he hadn’t encountered situations like this at all until now, but this was still a rotten deal and he felt he had every right to complain about it, no matter how much VEGA said griping about the situation would get him absolutely nowhere (and no matter how much he was actually correct).

He did make an effort to count his blessings, though. Neither of them were hurt, and they were together. A quick audit of their inventories suggested they were dropping with a full combat load, which meant they certainly weren’t going to lack for options when whoever actually lived here found them. If they were hostile, anyways. And it didn’t seem like the Titan drop pod was defective - it performed exactly to tolerances.

After setting up the distress signal the two of them had stored to repeat, Douglas had proceeded to wander with VEGA, performing some basic recon of the area they’d ended up in to try and identify food sources, whether they be game or fauna, water (which was useful not just for hydration, but for keeping his Jump Kit fed), and somewhere they’d be able to lay low for the night. Not that exposure was an issue, but he didn’t want to wake up with a knife to his throat. It wasn’t funny the first time.

A few hours after landing, Douglas was inspecting the berries off of a bush to see if they were worth eating when VEGA opened their two-way communications link. “Pilot, I have spotted a bogey approaching me, approximately two hundred metres out. They are armed and aware of my presence. Please advise.”

Douglas stood up from the bush. Somebody had picked up the distress signal. Military, most likely. They were probably being cautious about the affair, which was understandable, but if he played this situation right he’d have a warm bed, and hopefully a vehicle bay for VEGA. “Hold position, no aggressive posture. Hopefully they’ll accept us as guests over here.”

“And if not?”

“We probably die. Best behavior, buddy.”

VEGA kept the line open and piped the audio output through as the bogey spoke. Agent Carolina, representative of the armies of Chorus. He’d never heard of a planet named that, but the Frontier was big. Chorus was a name for where he’d landed. And they were, indeed, being cautious - they didn’t want to shoot, but if they were forced...

Turning around, Douglas made his way back towards VEGA. It took a moment for him to enter clear view, the camo pattern on his armor letting him blend in fairly well with the foliage. A rifle was slung over his chest, and a T-shaped visor that almost glowed blue stared Carolina back as he stepped out in front of VEGA. He kept his hands off his gun; even if he did need to look professional wielding it, it wasn’t like VEGA wasn’t already keeping his hands on a gun the size of a truck behind him.

“This is Pilot Douglas Hayden, of the 6-4. As the distress signal you likely picked up indicated, we’re currently lost with no point of reference as to how to get back to our people. Neither me or my Titan wish to engage in hostilities unless otherwise provoked.” It was drier than he usually went for, but he wanted to end his day with a bullet to the skull about as much as this Carolina he was talking to did.

[metalraindrops]

mighty-baron-kazimir:

A few bullets embedded themselves in his unarmoured areas, but his chestplate and facemask took the brunt of the damage that would hit his sensitive areas. As far as he could tell nothing vital for his movement had been hit, and so of course, he began to stalk towards the building as the enemy retreated, hefting a large slab of broken concrete in front of him as impromptu mobile cover. 

Their firepower did not faze the mighty Baron too much it seemed. He stepped over the recently pulped IMC goon and hefted the rebar chunk from the ground-beef-like remains. He seemed to eye up the building the IMC were in, in particular the windows that the annoying armour piercing bullets were coming from, and hurling it like an ungodly large javelin at a group of the soldiers. 

With that, the IMC’s destruction was set in motion, as the Baron charged out from behind cover in the resulting panic and barrelled down the street towards them at full pelt, hurling his rocket powered fist towards the retreating soldiers as he did, intent of grabbing or pummelling one of the weaklings who would flee from the glory of the fight.

The IMC battle line fell apart with surprising speed, ease, and violence. Whatever the Baron’s armor plating was made of, the IMC’s AP loads kept shattering against the plate; few rounds were able to actually penetrate, and it didn’t seem like the ones that were did all that much to the Baron as he proceeded to crush the few Marines still remaining outdoors with both more of the city’s wreckage as well as his own rocket-powered fist.

With the attempted flank solidly dealt with, Douglas and VEGA rounded the corner to find the Baron standing out in the middle of the street, standing in a hellstorm of IMC rifle fire. Deciding that it was probably a good idea to relieve his new friend of the problem, Douglas started shelling the building with his 40mm, the high-explosive rounds throwing clouds of smoke and chunks of steel and plastics out of the building as he took care in knocking out each individual firing position.

With few competitors left, the Militia soldiers broke cover and charged towards the apartment complex, suppressing fire from the machinegunners ensuring that most of them were able to make it over and begin moving into the building to clear it out.

[metalraindrops]

solitarius-lupus-canticum:

“Oh, yeah, no, sure…. that’s fine.”

At least that, the Pilot understood. It wasn’t like the saying “time heals all wounds”, because it didn’t, not really. It was more like “time is an important thing you need to step back and take a look at things”. Time as in “time is needed to process things”. After all, she still needed time to process the fact that her best friend was just totally gone. That the chances of KAT coming back were slim to none. So she understood; she could relate.

She gave a low sort of half-laugh, and just for the briefest moment her eyes glimmered. “That’s a relief. Don’t know what I’d do with myself if I lost a friend, too.” He was the first friend she’d ever had, aside from her Titan.

She didn’t want to lose him entirely.

Artemis hesitated only briefly before clasping his hand and giving it a shake.

Douglas had to force himself to remember that this was just as harsh on Artemis as it was him. Trauma was trauma; trying to compare specifics to see which was worse never ended well. She was dealing with the loss of a partner, almost in the same way he was. You didn’t just get over the death of something like your Titan in a day - that meant your bond wasn’t worth anything.

Gripping Artemis’ hand, Douglas shaked, and put a squeeze in for good measure. Things were probably going to be a little awkward for a while, but hey, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t simply bulldoze through by aggressively being himself like he usually did. “Here’s hoping the Typhon Protocol works, huh?”

Not Just Average Joes

[metalraindrops]

solitarius-lupus-canticum:

So much horror had been instilled into her over the thought of failure.

This was what the Office of Naval Intelligence had wanted - a Spartan, to use as they so wished, to follow their commands, and execute any task flawlessly. What they hadn’t seen was that they’d bent her to their will so far that she had broken. Effectively they’d made her the opposite of combat-ready. She was not suited for the battlefield, and she knew that. She knew that, and she hated it.

“Istenem… I should not even be out there fighting, and yet there is no other way I can protect you.” Dear me. “I know that it’s not right for me to be fighting but if I stop… If I do the right thing and pull myself off the battlefield… I know that I will only break further until I am no more than an empty shell.”

Artemis swallowed thickly, feeling ill. Unease settled into her gut, and silence weighed heavily between them.

“I just… I don’t know what else to do.” She closed her eyes and winced. “I am sorry, I do not mean to be like this. I just… I feel awful all of a sudden.” It was likely the nightmare. It had been so twisted and warped and reminded her so much of reality that it had shaken a few screws loose. The dam of what had been done to her; what she had been through; had been knocked one too many times, and now all of that was slowly leaking out. Soon enough it would burst, and she would crack and crumble under its weight.

The crying had stopped but she still was shaking, feeling hot and cold in turns. She knew she was going to break soon, but she didn’t want to.

“I… I’m going to do something you’re not going to like but - I think I have to do it. I don’t want to - I don’t want to put this burden on you but at the same time I don’t want to be alone…

I am afraid.”

Douglas wasn’t too sure what to say about all of this. Artemis had laid her fear bare; she didn’t want him to die out there. He knew that feeling well, he’d rather she didn’t die either. All he could do right now was try to hold her together until she could ride out the initial shockwave; she’d be able to keep herself together from there on out.

“Lest you forget, I got a nice metal friend I’m usually sortieing in, programmed specifically to keep me alive in as many circumstances as possible. It’s not like I’m flying out there alone - so long as I’m with VEGA I’m never alone. And you’ve seen what he can do when you piss him off. That Hunter probably still regrets his life decisions... their life decisions? Whatever.”

He didn’t like the sound of what Artemis said she was going to do. There were a hundred different things that could mean and it wasn’t clear what any of them even were. He just waited.

He was a lot bigger and a lot stronger than he was before. He could handle Artemis now.

Or, at least, he could try.

Wolf Pack

[metalraindrops]

drtoaster:

Toaster stayed firmly stood on top of the mech as it toppled, a huge cloud of dust being thrown up around them as it impacted with the ground. When the dust cleared Toaster was still atop it, aggressively crouching up and down on top of it and hitting it with the butt of his rifle a few times for good measure. Clearly maturity would never be one of the Cyborg’s strong points.

“This is uhhh….” He needed a good code name, and racked his brains for a moment. “This is Manborg to Dig Dug and Gigantor.” He radioed to Douglas and VEGA. “The Northstar and its pilot have been thoroughly twatted.”

There was a moment of silence, and a muffled groan. “Wait no hang on the pilot’s still alive.” Toaster grumbled, drawing his revolver and putting it to the plating. “You might be the one in the Northstar, but…” Toaster let out a low chuckle.

“…Omae wa mo shindeiru.”

With that he unloaded the entire cylinder into the cockpit, pulling the trigger until he was only met with clicks. Seemingly satisfied, he reloaded his revolver, loading in rounds one by one as he started to walk away.

Only to pause after a few paces, look thoughtful, and then cheerfully unload another cylinder of eight rounds into the cockpit for good measure. “There we go. If a jobs worth doing. Manborg to Dig Dug, pilot is actually dead now, or if he isn’t that pilot is officially the luckiest bastard alive. How are things hanging your end?”

He went quiet for a moment, only to follow up with a clearly annoyed. “FUCK. I already made a fucking Hokuto no Ken joke. Dammit.”

Douglas breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Toaster tear the Northstar’s battery out, and began to close in. He avoided firing weapons, though; even if you were using something without explosives like a Chaingun, it was usually a very bad idea to fire at a Titan a friendly Pilot was rodeoing. Chances are you’d splat them if your aim wavered for any reason.

As the Northstar fell over VEGA approached, the forest glowing faintly red behind him as Pramoor Reserve slowly began to catch. Toaster fired a couple rounds from his revolver into the Northstar; he needed a couple of shots to breach the frame, as it was fairly well protected against small arms fire, but eventually he seemed to manage with the monster rounds fired by his magnum revolver.

“We’re good over here! Sniper asshole didn’t tag us with any spare rounds, otherwise the best we’re looking at is being a forced amputee of some type. Shouldn’t be too far to the doors now!”

A few seconds later VEGA finally made it over to the Northstar, and Pilot and Titan regarded their fallen enemy for a moment before looking off towards the distance.

A Toast To Violence

[metalraindrops]

drtoaster:

“It accelerates heavy particles relativistic velocities, causing immense kinetic damage on contact with the target, as well as generating enough friction to superheat the surrounding atmosphere.” Kaiser explained cheerfully, despite the obviously destructive nature of such a weapon. “It is one of the few projected energy weapons we field. The majority of our weaponry remains ballistic. I personally consider the weapon to be overkill.” It admitted.

“Understood. Apologies but I tend to take phrases quite literally at times. My casual conversation module may require refining still.” Kaiser admitted. “Regardless, no remorse felt particularly. He had the option for a peaceful solution but opted for violence.”  Kaiser reasoned, shaking its head. It seemed more disappointed than upset by the whole situation.

At the request it nodded, transferring a set of IFF tags identifying who it was, what it was, and who it worked alongside. It wasn’t much different from Toaster’s own in fact. “I am well aware of this. Being shot in the back in any scenario is far less than pleasant. Either way, I hope you and your team will find these tags suitable.”

“Pure energy, huh? We’ve got something like that, the Plasma Railgun - you probably already know about it, though. Me and Toaster met a Northstar out in the field. Nasty thing, coats a 25mm tungsten sabot in a jacket of plasma about the size of a quad bike. If your Titan’s shoddily built it’ll punch a hole right through it and turn you back into the stardust you’re made of.”

It was odd hearing Kaiser appraise the situation. Douglas guessed the AI valued peace, which was odd given it was embodying a heavy weapons platform... but then again, Toaster was its father, so that might have been behind it at least a little. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. VEGA’s a lot like that too. Right?”

“The nuance of human conversation is difficult to get used to,” VEGA idly noted. “But it is a skill one can master with enough exposure. And Pilot Hayden gives me plenty of opportunities for exposure.”

Tapping at the keypad in the cockpit Douglas confirmed the IFF handshake. VEGA’s analysis noted that it was very similar to Toaster’s, just with the necessary details changed over. “Yeah, these’ll work. Pretty close to what your dad’s got going on, just with some changed details.”

[metalraindrops]

Upon arriving to the Address, the front door was left unlocked by accident. Several people were in the room past that one, and it sounded like there were already two people behind this door waiting for someone. What does Douglas do?

Being a relatively polite fellow, Douglas moved up to the door and knocked. “Hello? Anyone home?”

[metalraindrops]

hi. i would love to meet more friends. reblog if you wouldn’t mind interacting with a shitpost multimuse overwatch rp blog?