Mike moved prowler along the edge in a half crouch, Rifle braced against his shoulder as he watched for movement in the alleys and streets. it was tedious, and nerve racking work. while the enemy could hide among the buildings, his only defense was the paint on his gear, shifting slightly as he continued on his path. Frowning he stopped and zoomed in on a building in the distance. "blown out windows, abraded stucco, sun bleached ragged drapes, no movement.

Mike's sight picture rocked slightly as the shockwave hit, followed shortly by the sound of explosives. "The hell?!" mike muttered as silver came over his headset. resisting the urge to turn and look, mike threw the active sensors on, pinging the surroundings and erasing all semblance of stealth.

"Nawlin, Double time it! We gotta clear this area and move ta reinforce th' others!"

<Aye Sir!> Mike yelled as he located several plausible targets, the computer selecting odd densities and electrical signals. Aiming the sniper cannon at a cluster of targets, he paused, ensureing a clean shot when Blade once again called in.

"Anything on your side!?"

<Just about to knock on some doors sir, wait one> Mike growled as he fired a shot at the building, the sensors said possible Mech, he was guessing abandoned auto shop. just in case he was wrong, he pulled the shot short, the round impacting the street instead. Shrapnel peppered the wall, but wouldn't penetrate. <if they're here, ill know in a second.> he called, sighting in on the rolling shutters.

The moment the chopper was close enough to the ground, the three foot soldiers leaped off and dashed away from the landing zone, using the dust the blades kicked up as cover. Esailia clicked her comm on the second she hit the metal of the crawler "WE're out, pilot! Get to a safe distance!" Before she followed the already moving Naida and Nathanial up the stairs. The fox held her hand up in the -stop- gesture of a closed fist, and dashed across the doorway into the crawler. She looked to Nathanial, before nodding her head three times. On the third, they both breached the door, Nathanial aiming further down and Naida prepared to take out anyone in the immediate area.

"Fire squad breached into the crawler. Will keep updates every minute." The feline captain called over the radio...the last anyone heard from her or her two comrades...

---

"This was a wild goose chase." The tiger muttered under his breath, after breaching the fifth door to crew quarters "No one here, no signs of struggle, everything even looks to be put away!" He growled, getting him a reprimand from Esailia "Cool heads, Nath. We will see more mess in the passenger section. She clicked her headset on for the second time, reporting the same emptiness, but no one responded to her.

"Naida, ideas to why we can't call out?"
"We're in a hunk of metal, most likely made with less care and lovin' than a mound of garbage. Metal doesn't look up to snuff for regs."
"Fine. We're in tight corridors, no reinforcements. Silent protocal."

All three pulled their dust masks back up, and Esailia led the way to the passenger quarters, meeting no resistance, no crew, no one. When they reached their destination, same thing. Nothing. The soldiers glanced to their captain, whom was getting more worried with each quarters they breached and found neat and tidy. literally all they found was regulation clean quarters. It didn't make sense to Esailia. If they were attacked, why would bandits clean up like this? If they were at gunpoint, why would they be ordered to clean up? Not everyone on this damn thing was ex military. There should have been at least ONE room that was even slightly messy.

She led her squad through the crawler to the bridge, where again, everything was in order. No signs of combat here at all. But one thing was out of place, however; the logs. The squad couldn't find a trace of them. "This wasn't a bandit attack." Esailia said, slipping into the security room adjacent to the bridge where, at last, were signs of struggle. There were chairs knocked over, mugs of coffee spilled, and a few shot out screens. "Naida, get to work getting any footage up on the biggest screen. Nath, keep our rear covered."

As Nathanial slid down and poked his weapon out the door, Naida and Esailia started to fiddle with controls, Esailai bringing up power to the big screen, and Naida flipping through video files until..."Here we go, most recent." She punched it up, and what they saw, made Esailia's fur stand on end in realization as they watched..."Naida, get that on something portable, we need to get out o-" suddenly an explosion outside the room rocked them a split second after the sound of Nathanial's weapon firing "contact! Unknown number! grenades incoming!" Esailia came around tot he other side of the door, firing out as well at the far side of the bridge, spray and pray style.

"GOT IT!" Naida yellled over the explosions, slipping the disc into a protective case and into her vest. She joined Esailia, and the captain pulled back to get some gear from her pack out as they covered her. She slipped out a small tube-like device, and slowly extended it out the doorway. On the other end, a feed was wired to her helmet. "Three. One in the doorway far side, one in a back door to our right, one behind the bridge control console. I wan-" Esailia suddenly started into a coughing fit, and the moment she did, Nathanial glanced at Naida and nodded.

Nathanial slipped his smg onto his back and ripped off his boots, nodding to Naida. "Covering fire." Naida muttered to Nathanial, not yelling it as many gun-ho soldiers do in movies. She stood up and lowered her chain gun, which she had been packing on her back this whole time, and started spitting bullets. The tiger dashed out of cover, growling low to himself as he taught himself to slip into an instinctual mindset. Using his agility, he dashed form cover to cover, with Naida suppressing the far end and the console enemies, and literally pounced the righthand door soldier, who went down with a scream of terror before being cut off as his throat was ripped out.

By this time, Esailia got over her coughing, and smiled at her soldiers. They all had their secrets, and all of them kept it in the squad. She brought her assault rifle to bear, and ran out under Naida's continued rain of fire, getting into cover opposite the enemy behind the console. At that time Nathanial had regained his intellect, and was poking his smg out his new cover and was exchanging fire with console soldier.

"Oy! It's not polite to try and blow two laides up!" Naida yelped, having been forced back into cover by another grenade. Esailia slipped around the left side of the console and got her hands around the enemy's head there, snapping his neck using her rotational momentum before getting into a roll and back under cover closest to the far door. Having been freed up, Nathanial dashed across under Naida's now resumed suppressing fire, and joined Esailia. They nodded at each other, and flipped out either side of their cover, running low towards the far door.

They both poked their guns in the door and opened fire, not caring WHERE the bullets went, but knowing they hit something from cries of pain and death. Naida came up behind her comrades, grinning wickedly "Well, guess they didn't want your number, Nath."

Kensington glanced over his shoulder as he watched the crew jump out, the pilot taking his eyes off his surroundings for the brief moment he counted each man. Just when the crew claimed they were out a variety of warning sirens and system sounds started wailing in the cockpit, the HUD lighting up with a red [DANGER!] message as the puff of a SAM went off. Immediately, the airman yanked back the controls and activated the counter measures, causing the helicopter to do a hard pitch backwards as flares were dumped and sprinkled around the helicopter. He could almost feel the missile's force as it barely missed the helicopter, a huge sense of relief overcoming the wolf as he recovered the aircraft's maneuverability and turned it to move away from his current location. Once the smoke cleared, he spotted the two vehicles fleeing the scene, and immediately he began to speak up.

"Heads up to- Uh I mean ground teams two hostiles fleeing the landing zone. Engaging at this time but I gotta do a quick elevation adjustment and scan in order to search for more targets. Your air unit is still available for immediate tasking." The airman reported, his eyes closing half way as he focused on the live feed that was the crosshairs of his autocannon. When the zeroing was proper and the weapon was aligned, the wolf squeezed the trigger on his joystick. To him it was a burst of gunfire that was a simple response to the pulling of a trigger, but to the unfortunate targets below it was a high caliber round that could challenge grenades when it came to the amount of damage that was done. Such was one of the blissful ignorant factors that came with being a pilot. There were seven, seven shots in a rapid succession to deal with the fleeing vehicles. He didn't wait for the dust to settle, and immediately he went to pursue the survivors as he started looking ahead at the irrigation farm whether conptemplating whether to fire again or not.

Aidan grimaced as his comrade just told him that he'll smash his own face against landmines; he hoped that it was a bad joke, it would be hard to describe Adrian's suicidal behavior and not get demoted from his position. Since he wasn't given much time to protest, the medic could only take a defensive position on an elevated portion of ground and scan for any threat or movement; given the one minute time limit, Aidan brought up a virtual stopwatch on his central screen and tapped on it once the hare entered the cruddy building. Watching the time drain, hearing nothing on the comms and having no visual indication of the hare's position and status, kept the dog on edge; his muscles twitched as they were ready to slam into the pedals and charge in to provide help. Seconds drained quickly and by the time the stopwatch hit the -10 second mark, the warehouse suddenly rattled and unleashed streams of dust from its cracked walls. Aidan gritted his teeth, his heart skipped a couple of beats as he instinctively thought the worst had happened to Adrian and his GEAR; he was about to charge downhill and undergo a rescue operation, but his impulse was cut off as soon as his eyes spotted the familiar GEAR rushing back up, giving him a negative gesture all the way back. The dog sighed in relief and felt slightly amused, wondering just what in the heck happened, suspecting that the rather shoddy interior nearly trapped Adrian isnide. As the hare told him about the situation of the large room once he reached back at him, Aidan's eyes were peering at something in the distance, swearing that he just saw something move; the computer confirmed his suspicion as the once-defunct GEAR groaned and came to life for a few seconds. He had no indication about what was going to happen next, he just managed to drop a surprised gasp through the comms.

The flash momentarily blinded him, the sound wave was partially muffled by Stumpy's hull, Aidan instinctively reared with the help of the ankle-mounted wheels and dragged Adrian with him to safety; when his vision came back to normal, he found himself in a dust storm holding another GEAR's forearm, which he quickly identified to be Adrian's. The situation caught him off-guard, even though he was expecting for a disaster to happen; nothing prepared him for a large explosion and a world of confusion. His wits returned to him the moment he heard a few very distinctive whistles in his helmet's speakers, he even felt a jolt in his right arm as a leaden bullet disintegrated in the outer hull of the armored GEAR appendage holding the rapid-fire autocannon. That determined the dog to retreat further back, still pulling Adrian's own GEAR with him, finally reaching a far enough place where they were protected from weapon fire. Aidan turned his attention to the communication lines, finding out that everyone, in a nearly-simultaneous fashion, got attacked.

"This is team three, tangos blew the warehouse into confetti and opened fire on us. We're covered by a dust storm, we may need air support or a pair of eyes from above, sir!" Aidan reported as his eyes were still scanning for any imminent danger. He then addressed towards his companion: "Hey, buddy, you OK in there? Are you hurting? Bloody fuck, you sure there was no one in the warehouse? That dead GEAR at the door just blew up and everything happened. Damn." He then checked his arm, barely visible through the dust blowing right into the camera, but he could tell that the damage was rather superficial, but one or two more well placed rounds could incapacitate a number of muscle fibers. Aidan then came up with the best of his ideas, given the situation and tension at hand.

"Flank'em! I'll draw their fire and circle to my right, you go on the opposite and pick them off!" Aidan then took off after he unlatched his grip on Adrian's arm, skirting the lip of the valley from a safe distance; there was dust everywhere, annoying the dog to the point he turned on the thermal scanners to avoid bumping over a stone and making a huge fool out of himself on his first official mission with the Roughriders. He didn't quite expect to see any action from day one, but he was glad this op wasn't a run-of-the-mill border patrol. When he finally caught some visibility over the collapsed structure, Aidan turned his GEAR and strafed to the right while adjusting his position by shifting forwards and back, making him a rather annoying target to shoot at. He brought the GEAR weapon up to the cameras and aimed down, until the weapon's reticle coincided with the one following his eye movement; once he had a relative fix, he released the safety lock on the autocannon and squeezed the index finger, immediately feeling the recoil shoving his right shoulder into the seat. The repeated gunfire explosions drilled at his canine eardrums, his teeth gritting tight as he fought against the powerful yanks all in the while he kept himself moving. He saw the tracer rounds landing in the general area of the mining camp, but he wasn't sure if he hit anything; he couldn't do much about adjusting his aim in this run'n'gun tactic, he instead hoped that one of his stray shots would wound one of those men he saw down there. He could also identify a GEAR moving out to engage, he wasn't too sure about it until the lock-on alert beeped at him in panic; the dog freed the first set of flares, saving himself from a missile launch that would otherwise have turned him into minced meat. As much as he wanted to pull down the guidance systems for his own rocket battery and unleash hell on their bandit hides, he didn't want to risk the life of any possible hostage held up in the mining plant; a danger-close rocket support would be maybe too close for comfort, all he could do now was to play patiently, keep enemy fire drawn to him, conserve ammo as much as possible and wait for support. If none was given, he then may have to use his last resort solution to put off some of the heat.

(Omitted)

Silverwind met up with Mike with no issues, even after the Prowler had opened fire and made a mess of the sun-faded decor of the machine-shop. Nothing had emerged during Silverwinds' earth-shaking run up the main road either, even after he'd deliberately clipped a building with one elbow of the GEAR as it moved. In short; the town was abandoned and lifeless. This left the fox with the problem of reinforcing the others, who even now were filling the commo net with battle-chatter from their respective positions.
The mine had turned out to be a warren of hostiles, and Aiden and Adrian were apparently engaged in ferocious combat. Myrina and Arcade were holding their position against a force of unknown size in the bowl-shaped valley, and there were definite hostiles in the Landcrawlers, engaged by Esailia's team. Even Ken had opened fire, after being fired upon.

Drawing up decisions, he designated icons on the holographic C3I display floating above his controls and spoke rapidly to the other two GEAR pilots with him.
"Nawlin, Kuraiko - move to reinforce Sykes and Kelsea at the mine. Your GEARs are both better suited for close-in combat than mine, and should be a good pairing with both of theirs as well. Not to mention you can both cover the longer distance more quickly than the Harlock. I'm moving to reinforce Michelete and Ruthless, my GEAR is better at those kinds of ranges, and the area is closer, so I can cover the distance more effectively. Move!"

Blade spun his GEAR around on it's foot-wheels and zipped in the direction of the valley. Smoke was rolling from the low, dusty hills surrounding the area, and the machines' external microphones picked up the thump and chatter of weapons-fire from here. Swerving around to follow the road into the valley, he toggled another frequency as he heard more incoming messages.

This is team three, tangos blew the warehouse into confetti and opened fire on us. We're covered by a dust storm, we may need air support or a pair of eyes from above, sir!"

The foxes' ears flattened under his helmet at the tone in Aidens' voice. The Corpsman was obviously coping well, but not being able to immediately assist his man was anaethema to the vulpine.
"Hold fast, Sykes. Prowler and Blitzkrieg are on the way to back you both up. They might not be airborne, but the firepower oughta help. Break. Maxwell, keep on those hostiles and take' em down, then stand by for further orders. Break. Sprinsteam, Sitrep? Over".
The words were terse and fast, but that was combat; it didn't leave time for flowerly language and debate. You had to act quickly, or else everything fell apart in a shocking short time.
Skidding into the mouth of the valley, the Harlock's LIDAR and other sensors painted a picture on the display, icons and tags appended to each trace. Michelete's GEAR was in good cover, and trading fire with a trio of hostile GEARs and a quartet of light armed vehicles that were driving evasive patterns around the valley floor, weaving between the irrigation equipment. Ruthless had taken cover already, and was doggedly doing his bit to engage as well.
The three GEARs were markedly Bandit machines - they carried faded and patched-up civilian paint jobs, and had exposed internal systems, where they'd been 'jacked', shadily modified and tinkered with for near-military performance in their onboard LOS and Electromuscular systems, and had military-grade sensors scabbed onto the outside. The standard-sized hardpoints were equipped with a oddball assortment of both weapons, and civilian equipment that could do nasty damage in the right situation. In short, they were a threat, especially in an ambush like this, but they'd go down easy. One was already slumped and smoking.
Blade bounded into cover nearby to Myrina and shot her a laser link.
"Howdy. Thought I'd come to join your party. Mine was lookin' kinda dead," he quipped. "Looks like your guests got a little rowdy though. Maybe I oughta help y'all put 'em down. I reckon maybe we split and try and flank 'em - I'll volley a coupla high-ex rounds to keep 'em lookin' and confused, an' then you get some hits on 'em while I relocate and shoot again. Good ol' one-two hit?"

Meanwhile, at Ken's position, the missile fired at the helicopter had soared off on its' self-destructive journey into the wild blue yonder. The return fire from the helo's chaingun had shredded the ATV into a expansive field of machine parts and gore across the scrubby floor, and had resulted in a startled panic from the other bandits. Out of the five vehicles, the remaining four split fifty-fifty. Two stopped, and the other two drove more crazily evasive manoeuvres, and opened fire with their personal weapons, a storm of small-arms fired aimed up at the menacing-looking rotorcraft that had utterly shredded their comrade - and, probably, their only effective weapon.

At the mine, the smoke began to settle, and the looming forms of GEARs were made out plainly. There were six in all, and all looked mean and menacing. They did appear to be, once again, civilian models. But these were much higher-end machines than those in the valley. Less 'scrappy' and botched-together, these were some of the latest models out of one of the many GEAR-works of the Independent States, and looked professionally modified.
Gleaming black-and-tan and with red-eyed mono-sensors glowing, they bristled with sophisticated missile-racks on one shoulder, a rapid-fire chaingun-pod on the other and with an autocannon rifle and underslung flamethrower or shotgun on each one of their rifles. The exceptions were one carrying a sniper-type rifle, and another carrying a heavy gatling cannon. A third carried a shorter, stubby sub-machinegun type hand-held gun. Most also had a wicked-looking GEAR-scale machete sheathed at the rear of their waists, though the SMG-wielder carried two shorter knives, and an array of thrown AP/shaped charge daggers instead, and bristled with movement-enhancing equipment.
The sextuple paused in a brief moment, before splitting to all points to take cover. The faster-moving one with knives and daggers closed range at a frightning speed, while the others moved out in practised ease, covering the moving machines, before opening fire.

At the Landcrawler, the room fell silent after the torrent of firepower unleashed into it, aside from a few feeble moans of pain and gurgles of someone choking on their own blood. No-one else opted to exchange fire with the assault team, leaving the heavy smell of cordite, blood and death in the air, along with ear-ringing silence.
Then there was a slight sound - the tapping on someone knocking on metal from a few doors down the narrow hall of the vehicle.

"Nawlin, Kuraiko - move to reinforce Sykes and Kelsea at the mine. Your GEARs are both better suited for close-in combat than mine, and should be a good pairing with both of theirs as well. Not to mention you can both cover the longer distance more quickly than the Harlock. I'm moving to reinforce Michelete and Ruthless, my GEAR is better at those kinds of ranges, and the area is closer, so I can cover the distance more effectively. Move!"

<Aye Sir!> mike shouted as prowler lurched in the sand, quickly gaining speed as it angled towards the remains of the warehouse. As he ran he pulled up the channel to Sykes and Kelsea, letting the computer plan the route as swapped ammo to tungsten core AP rounds, the computer placing a broken shield in the bottom left corner of his screen.

<Nawlin here, on my way to the warehouse, hang tight!> mike's voice tight with concern, his thoughts following those of others. This was not going according to plan, these weren't the tactics of bandits, and marauders. this felt more organized and methodical. Bandits don't blow up their base during a skirmish, they tended to be territorial and more ham handed then that. To mike, this had to be some military force, but what he didn't know, but that wasn't his job. Nawlin's job was to watch, listen, and fight, the Eggheads in the crawler would help with the who and why later.

As the smoke shrouded form of the warehouse loomed ahead, mike squashed the speculation to the back of his mind. shouldering the rifle once more he scanned for the duo, easily finding the darting form of Aiden's gear, opening a beam channel he laid prowler prone a kilometer from the lip, and crawled forward, rifle held before him. <keep it coming, ill see if I can take out some of the tougher stuff> he grunted, prowler shifting to ambient sky colors, in an attempt to obscure him from the enemy below. Finally at the ledge he stopped and glanced quickly at his coolant levels. finding the bar green, he activated the system and sighed as the cockpit temp dropped to a mild chill, a appreciable side effect to the thermal camo. all systems running, he got to work.

Scanning the smoke he found the lumbering form of a modified mining GEAR, considering it was in the target area, and aiming something in his friends direction, he found no qualms of taking it out. <engaging hostiles> he muttered as he fired a shot, adjusted, and sent another 2 shots downrange. the rounds impacting the gear heavily as they tore their way through the thick mild steel plates meant for rock chips and dirt, not ballistics. with a belch of oil and crunching metal, the first target tumbled into the rubble.

<enemy GEAR down, repeat one enemy gear down> he said as some of the enemy began to focus on different targets, some looking for him, the new shooter. with the element of surprise gone, his next target wouldn't be as easy, no more broadside shots. looking for another HVT, a glint caught his eye. without thinking he rammed his shoulder into a pressure pad to his left, sending Prowler into a roll as the cliff face next to him cratered into dust. a muted shot a moment later confirming his paranoia. <enemy marksman!> he hollered to the others, as he scrambled for cover. It could have been just a luckey shot, but with all the confusion, smoke, and the accuracy told him otherwise. Mikes face tightened as he set up his counter, this wasn't at all like the plan.

Kensington looked over the footage of what had come of the hostiles after his attack and he cursed under his breath as rifles were raised up his way. Despite the advantage, the pilot still raised the altitude and focused the crosshairs on the ones who were not mobile. He could hear a few pings and a few pangs from the underside, but what worried him was a few near the back section of the helicopter, where the tail rotor was. Immediately after just a few hits the airman did a combination of a pitch and a yaw to the side, causing the helicopter to circle around with it's nose trained on the hostiles below.

With all that was going on, the shooters trying to take him down with their small arms fire, the open radio chatter kicking up with transmissions and requests for aid, it was rather difficult for the senior airman to keep his cool but where chaos and confusion came training and experience followed as the only thing keeping the senior airman's head in the game. "Dammit-dammit-dammit get me a bead.." He muttered, a sense of agitation and slight panic in his voice while the helicopter did it's circle pattern and slowly lined up with the hostiles that were stable. Within seconds, though he got the crosshairs on the camera to run over the group but it wasn't a perfect stand still shot and he quickly pressed down on a trigger on the side of his joystick, the trigger that was responsible for the mounted rockets. It was a double tap, and in response two of the rockets were launched at the targets, leaving two explosions and a lot of debris to kick up and cause a lot of disorientation even if the bad guys were to, because of some circumstances, survive the killzone of an explosion.

There wasn't even a pause for the wolf to see if his rockets did their job and he had to act rather fast in order to get eyes on the ones who decided to flee, even with those minutes he gave the fleeing targets he had the aid of elevation combined with technology to help him find them. However he had to stand still for a brief moment so to flip on the auto hover and put all his controls into controlling the camera, his eyes squinting with a look of extreme concentration in them. Even a new guy would know that staying still was risky business, and Kensington wanted to get out of such a business right away.

Adrian, more impressed than surprised by the start of the ambush, followed Aidan’s lead. The bulk of his communication with his teammate relied on direct contact—not following along would be relatively faulty thinking. The urgency of the situation was recognizable, however, and Adrian was switched on.
“Tracers?” he groaned off radio as a bright streak ran across his field of view, “I’m not impressed anymore.” The feel of a bullet impact shook his gear and he felt the machine’s balance immediately shift to the right. “They hit the ballast,” he noted, “If they’re aiming down there, probably not the best idea to keep this on me.” He disengaged the auxiliary ammo box at his GEAR’s hip and threw it into the dusty distance, lid flapping open and scattering its contents across the field. He disengaged the now half empty water container and held it in his GEAR’s off hand.

Once the dust began to settle, Adrian picked out the shapes of the enemy GEAR. “Maybe that black wouldn’t stand out if we were in a wetter region,” he mumbled Three regulars, one marksman, one MG, one grappler. Newfangled civilian models with some good mods. Those pointy things are missiles, aren’t they? The L-68 planted its rifle in the ground, butt first as it held the water container out and back, and set to pivot on its skates. He opened radio communication. “Prowler, Blitzkrieg, confirmed six hostile—“ One of the GEAR took a shot in the side and immediately fell over— “Five GEAR on our position. This ain’t their first rodeo, over. Aim for the top left of frontal center mass. You can detonate their explosives prematurely, got that?” Soon as he identified movement in the opposition, the L-68 swung its arm forward and spun on its feet as it launched the container outward, directly into the enemy GEAR’s path forward. Upon completing his rotation, Adrian looked down to the utility monitor of his rifle’s scope and shot the container as the fast moving GEAR began to adjust its course. The container, under the bullet’s influence, rolled directly into the new path, caught on the SMG-toting GEAR’s legs, and sent it toppling to the ground in a fresh cloud of dust. He unloaded several shots into the grounded GEAR before he moved on to a new target.

The silence in the cabin carried on as the fire squad remained motionless, all ears and eyes on swivels for any sound or detail of danger. Nearly a minute of it, and Esailia quietly muttered "HACR. Bit shaky, unhurt, four mags on main." Which prompted both Naida and Nathanial to reload their guns as they responded in turn.
"Unhurt, three Bs left, five mags on main."
"Bruised, four mags on main."

Esailia nodded, and flipped her comm on "Firesquad to outside, anyone read, over?" To which earned her static. She ground her teeth, pushing some hair that had gotten loose from its confines out of her face "Something's wrong. I could see sky right out the bridge's windows. Naida, any oth-" She was cut short when all three of them whipped their heads around to the sound of tapping down the hall. Esailia raised her hand in a fist, and started down the hall slowly, Naida and Nathanial holding position and ready to offer covering fire.

The feline captain slipped to the other side of the door, then motioned for her team to follow. Nathanial led with Naida following him, taking their usual positions to breach doorways, before Esailia gently pulled the doorhandle down....and yanked it open with all three of them aiming into the room. To their surprise, it was a storage closet, with a few people inside. Not a one looked ready to fight them, cowering away. Esailia made a quick command "Hold your fire." before making a headcount...three civvies, one child, and two crewmembers. "Sound off. Who are you." She demanded, her gun lowered along with her squad's weapons.

"Uh....uhm....I'm Grey, maintenance." The first crewmember said. He motioned to the other crewmember "This is Belard. We clean and do general fixing of the decks." He moved his finger, pointing to the other three adults and the child, a male, two women, and a boy. "Luke and Cynthia Garza, Ellynia, and her son, Abel."

Without looking away from the group, Esailia ordered "Naida, take up the rear, Nathanial, scout ahead." She then asked "Grey, Balard, either know how to handle a gun?" She was pulling out her handgun, and Naida was doing the same, but before either crewmember could speak up, the civvie male stood "I can. I took basic training, but I was refused for active duty. I was put in the reserve."

"Better. Naida, rifle." The fox nodded, slipping her assault rifle off and handing it to Luke. He examined it a moment, checked the barrel for a round and sighting it down at the ground, before nodding at Esailia. She nodded back, then looked back at the crewmembers. They both shook their heads, and her mouth drew a line "Fine. Luke, guard the other civvies. Let's move people." She gave Nathanial a nod, and he took off ahead towards their entry point, with Esailia following, the civvies behind her, and Naida taking in the back to cover their exit. They met no resistance as they made their way back through the crawler.

Nothing blocked their path as they came to the exit, and Esailia raised a fist, causing her squad to stop, and Luke to quietly mutter a "That means stop," to the others. Esailia slipped past Nathanial to the oddly closed door. Her squad had left it open. She slowly inched it open, and flipped her comm on "Firesquad reporting in. We need evac n-" An expolsion outside the door flung the captain into Nathanial, both of them tumbling to the ground in quiet curses.

"Naida!" Esailia called, and the minigun wielding fox took lead, yelling at the civvies "Get back!" Before bashing the door outward and opened fire. The RPG enemy ducked under the cover of a rock with a yelp. "Rocket launcher!" she called into the crawler. The feline captain got back to her feet, getting back on the comm "Area's got AA, Edward, get your ass in gear and get here!"

---

Edward had been holding position outside the war that had broke out, safely hidden behind a low hill, when the radio crackled on "Area's got AA, Edward, get your ass in gear and get here!"

He instantly turned the ATCV's engine on, and kicked it into gear as ordered, rumbling over the hill and sped at high speed to the crawler...

Kuraiko had taken a detour around the now five hostile GEARs as to get a different angle on them, maybe pull some heat off of Mike when he engaged.His jumpjets carried him into the dust filled mine area just as the dust storm settled, his rifle was brought to bare as he took cover behind what he assumed was the miner's housing at one point. He flipped up his sight and scanned the group, seeking their marksman. He spotted two of the five GEARs. Though once he shot, he'd have to move, this building will be confetti in mere moments after he shoots. So he angled himself to run at an angle that would take him behind the hostiles and spread out their manpower, then let loose a salvo of rounds that sank right into the side of sadly only one GEAR. Then he took off, using a run and gun tactic to suppress the hostile GEARs. "Everyone! Shoot now! End it here!" He yelled out over comms, let's hope they heard him. Else it wouldn't be long before he would join the other two on the ground. Lifeless and condemned to the fate of a miserable death. He didn't enjoy this situation, but he needed to disperse the manpower. So yet again, he hoped and hoped that someone would shoot, anyone. He trusted them wholeheartedly, though he was still scared shitless.

Blade grimaced. Myrina hadn't responded to his mesage, and the bandits were pressing in closer. Rounds chewed away the cover they'd taken shelter behind, and splinters of shells and debris pinged and whacked off of the lightly armoured hide of the Harlock and the other GEARS.
"Shit," muttered the fox to himself. "If this keeps up then there won't be much to hide behind."
While the GEARs had been pressing them from the front, the fast attack vehicles - FAV's - had closed around from their flank, and began to pepper the trio of LDF GEARs with their automatic grenade launchers and heavy machine-guns. Swearing bluntly again, the fox felt his ears flatten under his helmet once more, and he bared his teeth.
Curling his finger around the trigger on the GEARs' control stick, he opened fire with the autocannon rifle, playing the crosshair in his visor over the nearest of the light space-frame vehicles. With no armour and a light structure, the machine was no contest for the heavy rounds, and withered to pieces, flipping over in a cloud of expanding wreckage. He repeated the exercise with the second vehicle, moving sideways in an evasive strafing action as the rounds from its' heavy MG lashed toward him, impacting the GEAR with hammer-blow hits. A couple of minor warnings sounded, but nothing that took him out of the battle.
"Press them to engage!" he growled at the other pilots close to him. "They're outflanking us, and we're penned in!"
He volleyed hi-ex rounds toward the closing GEARs, and felt a slight rise of relief as Arcades' GEAR began to move, opening fire and moving in an aggressive push. The rounds from the blocky, older-model GEARs autocannon tore into one of the modified Brahma GEARs, slamming it around like a jerky puppet, before it collapsed. Pressing the advantage, he moved onward. Blade moved to support him as he saw the second Brahma move out in a flanking motion, and one of the FAV's close in to the rear. Gunfire peppered his GEAR as he tried to move - and then Arcades' GEAR was engulfed in a cloud of flame and smoke as the smoke trail of of missile from the Brahma's shoulder-mounted launcher connected the two.
Blade's muzzle went dry and he couldn't believe the sight: one of their number was down, in their first sortie. He'd been unable to act effectively to prevent it, and right in front of him one of their number had been cut down. There was no chance he could be alive: the centre torso of the GEAR was a flaming wreck, charred and blackened. No one could have survived that.
Snarling and seeing red, he charged forward, one shoulder-mounted shield hammering under the impact of machine-gun fire from the FAV, before he drew the Harlock's Kukri blade and slammed it through the hood of the vehicle. Nearly simultaneously, he dived into a forward roll, coming up on one knee with the GEARs' targeting focused on the remaining Brahma. The indicator turned red, and he fired a missile, near point-blank. The hostile exploded in a roiling fireball, and he stood slowly, the posture of his GEAR, slumped shoulders and arms by its' sides almost reflecting the somber, solemn mood of its' pilot.
"Hostiles are no factor in this area," he said with a bitter edge to his voice. "We have a pilot down," he added with a quiet voice.

***

At the mine, the hostile GEARs moved with lethal precision and efficiency. With two of their number down and under attack, they moved and acted with military-level skill. Taking cover behind the terrain and offering each other covering fire, the heavy machine-gunner volleyed firepower towards Mike's position, giving the Marksman time to take cover and begin drawing a bead on the Prowler. Meanwhile, the three 'regulars' moved in careful steps. Rather than splitting up and taking on Aiden, Adrian and Kuraiko one-one-one, they concentrated on outflanking and dominating the trio of Roughriders with concentrated firepower. Moving in a leap-frogging evolution through the cover, they managed to keep up a steady pinning torrent of fire toward Adrian and Aiden, which was only broken when Kuraiko's manoeuvre slammed rounds into the side of the leader, forcing them to adopt an all-round defence, weaker and less aggressive, but still worthy of respect and caution. After all, their rounds were no less lethal than any others.

***

Ken's firepower had done as expected against the unarmoured light vehicles and their riders. The high-explosive unguided rockets stirred up a storm of lethal fragments and fiery destruction, along with the concussive forces of the explosions themselves. After the dust cleared and settled, all that was left was a field of scattered machine-parts and torn up bodies.

***

On the Landcrawler, the rescued hostages stood to the back of the group, huddled together for security, as much as safety. The couple, Luke and Cynthia, discussed amongst themselves in low voices, whispering in a hard-edged dialect, tinged with a vague Northern Empire accent. There was a hissed discussion, before Cynthia slashed a hand through the air, ending the discussion and tentatively stepped closer to the Roughriders' infantrymen.
"Excuse me," she said, quietly at first, and then repeating herself louder over the noise coming from outside.
"Excuse me - I know where the rest of the hostages are. Where they took them, I mean. I thought it's something you should know. The bandits - they took them to the mine. They took all the cargo elsewhere, I'm not sure. They said - something about meeting someone, moving somewhere else? I thought it may be important".

Kensington scanned over the results with the aid of his chain gun's camera, the distance sparing him from seeing such a gruesome mangled mess he had left behind. There wasn't really much room to even think about that, and the pilot turned his helicopter to go back to the main fight, but he almost lost every sense of concentration when he was hit by the quiet message, the message of a casualty.

Hearing those five words were the worst words any man could hear, and his hopes of avoiding such a situation were now gone. Again his heart was racing and his hands had a shaken grip until he took a long, drawn out breath and got onto the communications, his voice projecting that low, professional grim tone to it. "Med-evac is available I need coordinates and condition. If the designated combat life saver is nowhere near I will need a lot of cover to retrieve the target patient if possible. Sir we gotta get him out regardless of condition." He reported, his left hand gripping tightly onto the handle it held to avoid the shakes. This was indeed a worst case scenario for any squad, but he could only imagine what mental condition their leader was in. If there wasn't a immediate response the airman gave it a few seconds, and if there was still silence he repeated Blade's rank and added in what he had needed in order to converge on their location.

Prowler laid on its back as mike calmed himself, dumb luck once again saving him from a similar fate as Arcade's. it wasn't supposed to be like this, they were merc's, outclassed in tech, and supposedly training, a civi gear lacked armor, the software, hell, even the cockpit wasn't set up for real battle! looking around, mike scanned the area leading up to the mine. no one was sneaking up behind them...yet. speaking of software, how in the nine hells did they get a marksman rifle anyway?

"and her I am, lying around while murderous mercs shoot at my teammates." he paused regaining his focus. "tis not my place to ask why." he muttered as he rolled back to prone and crawled to the lip. "But causing chaos, and dismay to the enemy?, that I can do as well as the next guy" he growled.

<"Everyone! Shoot now! End it here!> [/I] Kuraiko yelled over his speakers. peaking over the top, mike noticed a particularly heavily painted gear had fell. the others seaming to group up in confusion.

<fair enough!> mike replied, Prowler getting on a knee as he quickly identified the marksman and began emptying the clip, hoping beyond hope that the enemy pilot would miss his shot. as the rounds left the mag, mike grew angry, but it burned cold, distant, calculating. the last shell flew from the rifle as mike switched to his shotgun, already loaded with
60mm flechette rounds, each sending 16 3x8 cm tungsten rods speeding into the distance. The logical portion of mikes mind screamed at him to move, but moving would give them time to recover, there would be no rally if he could help it. prowler continued spewing death from its perch, defiant, angry, and empty of mercy, mike willed his metal shell to destroy the enemy before him. until they fell, or surrendered, he would keep shooting.

A series of sharp, impacts brought mike from his thoughts, a quick check found nothing major damage wise. the craters from the armor were small, but surprisingly deep, a small caliber, but high powered. mike looked at the marksman as he fired again, this shell catching his right shoulder. mike sneered at the target. the rifle was maybe a 20mm at best, accurate, but lacking the sheer force from an auto platform. the small carbine it wielded could be deadly if mike didn't keep up the pressure, refusing the pilot the time he needed to find a weak point. Dropping the now empty shotgun mag, he fired the chambered shell as he fitted a new one. watching in dark glee as the under equipped gear was hit by the flechettes periodically.

Kuraiko yelled again over comms, Blade must be in a mental shit storm at the moment, and Mike was in a shit storm also. Someone needed to get the gears moving again. "Everyone! Keep your heads and lets make these motherfuckers pay! Lets show'em what Rough Riders do when you take one of ours! For Arcade!" He roared over the comms, his heart poured into every word. Arcade was part of his unit, and that alone made everything personal. Did these assholes think...Honestly think they were gonna walk away clean from this? No. They're ALL gonna die. They killed one of the Rough Riders. For that, there's Hell to pay, he hoisted his rifle up, and shouted two more words over comms that would hopefully swell their hearts and inspire everyone. "For Landren!" He shouted as he raised his rifle and charged, volleying rounds at any GEAR that wasn't in his unit. He smiled as he finished off the marksman that Mike had shredded and the machine gunner before one of the three "Regulars" had forced him back down. "Alright Mike, space is yours! Use it!" He took cover and checked his ammo, 320 rounds left. Two extra drums on backup. Three others left. He popped up quickly, ripping down a third GEAR, then slipping back behind cover. Relying on his team now to finish it, he needed to conserve ammo. Even though he had plenty, a sustained engagement with an empty chamber just flat out sucks. So he waited, hoping with all his heart Blade would join them again.

"Damn, sure is good to see you guys!"

Help arrived in the nick of time: Mike blew a GEAR down, Adrian followed up and took another one down, Kuraiko managed to cut down the flanking initiative the "bandits" had going. It was obvious to Aidan that those six, now four, pilots were no push-overs. While they were indeed good, seasoned fighters, they clearly underestimated 101's numbers and skill; taking down two GEARs would have been easy, but having two more coming in to reinforce caught them off-guard just enough to lose two fighters and even the numbers. It was Aidan's move now and he knew what he was supposed to do.

Having the chance to study the enemy position, coupled with Mike confirming an enemy marksman and Adrian suggesting taking out the missile pods some of the GEARs had on them. Aidan suddenly changed direction, now heading the opposite way and tried to look small, sine most of the enemy attention was drawn to Adrian and the reinforcement duo, giving the dog some space to think and react, maybe do something useful while at it. If he knew his GEAR had more weight, or a better hull and no extra support role, he'd jump right in for the slaughter and flank them so hard they would crap their suits. An all-round was efficient enough, but four GEARs against four others with elevation advantage is still vulnerable enough; after a few moments of being untargeted, Aidan came up with something that would take down a maximum of two more enemies, leaving the rest for his teammates: if these guys set up an explosive booby trap that could have jeopardized the integrity of the mine, it was pretty safe to launch explosives back at them without risking innocent lives. Trying to be precise with his own SMG-like autocannon would turn him into a sitting duck long enough to be hit by that one marksman without doing much damage to the other vehicles. Instead, Aidan quickly released the grip on the left linear glove and brought his arm over his head, feeling for a handle to pull down, while he kept himself on the move. He stopped shooting down the mine as he didn't want to draw fire on him in this crucial moment of the fight, but kept his eyes down there in case someone pulled a smart move to stop the canine's "brilliant" idea.

"You guys stay out of melee range and keep drawing their fire. Rocket barrage coming up, danger close. They were confident enough to blow a GEAR, I'll showém my fireworks." He warned L-68, Prowler and Blitzkrieg just as he brought a device down and in front of him consisting of a large, round screen mounted on a bulky frame with knobs, switches, a keyboard and a control stick. Aidan switched his gaze from the main panels to the round screen that quickly adapted to his eyes, a new reticle following his eye movement; he was looking for the sweet spot to unleash the salvo, deciding against locking on a specific target as that would have given away his surprise. While there was cover just about everywhere, he was pretty sure his rockets would turn everything to rubble and potholes, making any form of quick maneuvers difficult to make with an uneven terrain. If he manages to blast one of the guys, maybe even hit a shoulder-mounted missile pod, Aidan could call it a good day. He was still making calculations in his head, thinking of the best place to strike and just how wide he wanted to stretch with the barrage, but under the pressure of losing precious time, the canine decided that his prefect chance would slip away and he'd get back to base with no confirmed kills on his belt and a tail between his legs. He brought Stumpy to a sudden halt and as soon as his GEAR stabilized, Aidan reached for a key that released the safety lock on the control stick and adjusted the angle of the rocket pod until he was sure he hit the sweet spot right between the enemy marksman and the one carrying the ridiculous gattling gun. Civilian GEAR or not, he was sure that if any of them would get hit, they'd explode and melt, they'd need tank-class armor to come out alive and barely scratched. Aidan gritted his teeth and pressed his thumb against the launch button on the stick until he passed the first threshold, he'd only have to squeeze one more time to set hell loose. He had maybe one more fraction of a second until the enemies would realize what he was up to.

"Firing!" His thumb flexed and pushed harder against the button, passing the second threshold and as soon as he felt the button squeeze against the internals of the stick, the cockpit was filled with rattling noises as the pod released twelve small rockets one by one in a rather tight group. Aidan quickly retreated away from the lip just enough to be safe from enemy fire and still catch a glimpse of his work. He issued a chain command to reload the pods automatically that would take a long period of time and switched the safety lock back on before he'd push the console back up in its place. A bright flash quickly contrasted out by the external cameras confirmed a successful strike on the enemy, the rocket swarm managed to follow the grouped trajectory, maybe three or four deviated from the projected perimeter; he felt a rush of satisfaction take his anger and tension and slam them against the dusty earth, so much that he nearly missed the grim newsflash Blade delivered through the comms. At first, he simply dismissed the thought, thinking that Aidan might have misheard what Blade communicated; Ken's and Kuraiko's reactions convinced him that it was true: one of their men just died. The dog couldn't believe his ears, someone in his team got fatally wounded and he was completely unaware; he tried to remember if he heard any call for support from him, but he was sure he wasn't contacted. Whatever hit the poor pilot didn't give him the chance to react, but Aidan was not going to leave him for dead, no matter what. Maybe there was some hope, a second chance to life and even if he were to find a mangled, unrecognizable carcass, the medic still had some honors to complete and send the body back home.

Before his thoughts would be clouded with a darkness that would render him inert and unresponsive, Aidan took a U-turn and rolled away from the mining camp, dizzy and incredulous.

"Adrian, Mike, Kuraiko, I'm headed off to the emergency, if and of you blokes get shot I will murder you. Blade, sir, I'm coming as fast as I can to check him and pull him out; I don't know how bad it looks, but believe me, you'd be surprised how long one can live without their frontal lobe. Ken, I'll need your chopper for evac, if his condition is real bad, my GEAR won't be fast enough to get him to safety." Aidan was preparing himself mentally for the extraction, first aid and evacuation procedures; he was ready for such incidents, but he didn't expect for something bad to happen during the first skirmish with the Roughriders. He'll look pretty bad if he doesn't manage to save the pilot on the first day of active duty, thus, the dog refused to believe there was absolutely nothing that could be done to save the guy. He cleared the distance between the mine and Silver's location in a few minutes, minutes that passed very slowly for the doctor; every second counted to the slimming chances to save Arcade, Aidan was cursing under his breath as it seemed his destination was never in reach. When he did get there, he found a defunct GEAR with its torso split open and charred; Aidan felt his heart sink and his throat choke as he saw the wreck and immediately reached for the PDW and attached it to the sling on his vest and then grabbed for the large kit while making the final approach. Once he brought his GEAR to a full halt, in a kneeling position and he opened the cockpit and left on the auto-defense mode so that Stumpy would provide cover fire if needed. Aidan got out of his seat, swung the large kit on his back and sprung out of the cockpit, landing on the terrain below safely.

He made sure his surroundings were relatively safe before he'd sprint towards the downed vehicle. "This is Sykes, I'm on foot and headed towards Arcade. Ken, get ready for extraction, the coast looks clear enough for an LZ." The dog reached the GEAR in no time and started to climb on it until he had a clear view down the open torso and he saw there pulled out a muttered crap; he looked left and right, making sure that there was no enemy in sight before he'd ditch his weapon to the side and put down the kit to start the extraction process.

"Hey, buddy, you with me? Hello! Come on, man, you can't just give up on the first day, stay with me! Focus on my words if you hear 'em: look, I'll open the cockpit up and I'm gonna help you out of here, ok? You stay put, you've done a great job so far, you can rest a little while I patch your fur up, alright? Hang in there!" While the dog was talking to probably no-one, he stretched his arm into the opening of the cockpit and reached for the emergency hatch release and once he pulled it, the cockpit door unlocked and lifted up only a little. Aidan then tried to pull the door up, but his strength alone was not enough so he had to improvise a car jack out of one of his stretchers and, calculating where he had to place the improvised jack to hold the door up, he managed to open the cockpit wide enough for him to slip in with his kit. The strong smell of charred fur and flesh filled his muzzle and turned his stomach upside down, but he had a job to do. He took a pair of latex gloves from the kit and put them on quickly and, first things first, he checked for pulse, breathing and general responsiveness. Judging by how he looked, Aidan concluded that Arcade ate a damn missile with his teeth, but to his surprise, he managed to find a pulse on his mangled wrist.

"Bloody hell" he muttered in awe "he's still alive, sir! Condition critical: third degree burns over 70% on his body, shrapnel damage here and there, but he's breathing. I can't tell how much blood he's lost, but I'm starting reanimation procedures now."

He was nervous and all over the place, the fight for this pilot's survival was mostly in his head: he gently checked for cervical lesions and decided not to risk it, so he slipped a neck holder on him and imobilized the head, he somehow found an intact vein to administer isotonic fluids, hanging the pack on the first thing he found and turned his attention to one shrapnel piece that was about to fall out of its wound. Aidan grabbed the piece carefully with a pair of tweezers while holding a soft pad with some haemosrtatic agents and antispetics; he pulled it out slowly and, as expected, a the wound became a small puddle of blood, Aidan quickly shoved the pad in as a placeholder until he could reach for the gunshot syringe that would do the same job, only much better. He pulled the pad out and injected a handful of miniature sponges that inflated as soon as they came in contact with liquid. He couldn't do much about the large, burnt portions, except for being careful not to burst open the blood-filled blisters. Next step was to mobilize the wounded and get him in the open, so Aidan somehow slipped the extra stretcher under him, releasing the burnt man from the tight straps to carefully drag him on the stretcher. He then covered him with a reflective tinfoil blanket to keep the poor guy warm, losing so much skin meant losing heat and liquids; he secured the patient on the stretcher and awkwardly dragged him out of the death chamber. Once the dog pulled his kit out, he installed a few electrodes here and there to monitor whatever vital sign were left and to no surprise, they were very weak, on the edge of a fatal crash actually. In another display of extraordinary of strength and will, he safely lowered the stretcher to ground level, followed by himself and the kit.

Then the fun started: Arcade's epiglottis fell over the trachea and remained shut, he was getting no oxygen intake. "You've got to be shi- Ken! Where are you? He's almost in hypotensive shock, hypovolemic and his epiglottis just gave up. Crap, I've gotta open his throat."

He was dizzy, but he knew what to do. While it was a risky procedure, cricothyrotomy was an absolute necessary at this stage; Aidan grabbed the surgical box from the kit and for the cricothyrotomy tubing and placed himself in such a way he'd shield Arcade's body from any dust contamination, with the help of Kitsune Peril too. He managed to localize the cricothyroid membrane and quickly immobilized the thyroid cartilage with his left hand; with his right hand, he started to incise a vertical cut, until he had a clear view over the membrane he had to open. Once he cut it open with another horizontal incision, Aidan enlarged the incision in the membrane with the help of his finger, while holding the larynx with the help of a surgical hook and once he was sure the hole was large enough, he fit in the cricothyrotomy catheter, pulled the hook and the dilator from the tube out and inflated the cuff with some air with the help of a syringe. He secured the catheter in place with some strong adhesive plasters, sewing them would take too much time. Finally, Aidan checked if Arcade was still breathing on his own, but to his dismay, he was forced to pull out a compression bag and attach it to the catheter and provide with air. Now that he had a break to catch his breath, he reassessed the situation and recalculated the pilot's chances of survival: a heart failure was an immediate risk and this man had to get off the field now. The dog took a deep breath in and exhaled long, realizing he was almost sweating, his palms shaky from the intensity of the moment; he felt some satisfaction, though, saving another comrade from imminent death. He had to make sure he'd save him again from the next blow death would try to make.

"Arcade needed a cricothyrotomy and he'll soon enough a defibrillator, but I think he'd might just make it if we get him to a hospital, sir."

“Roger, danger close,” Adrian echoed to the team around him as he observed the field with his rifle peeked out of cover. Four for four and we have them surrounded. I’d better take Nawlin’s target, he needs to shoot at something closer to do any good. He had barely switched targets and taken a shot when Aidan let loose a barrage of rockets that arched their way into the field. “Friendly rockets, stand back!” he ordered, and spared a passing glance at the approaching ordnance before he pulled his rifle back into cover. The impact was nothing short of impressive and as the rockets exploded, the scattered metal and magazines from Adrian’s discarded containers began a much less visible, but equally potent chain reaction. Bits and pieces of 40mm and 20mm ammunition became heavy shrapnel that tore the heavy enemy GEAR to pieces, from the ground up, and shredded the left leg of another. As the encounter drew closer and closer to a visual conclusion, Adrian’s words gradually lost their kerning. “Confirmed det’nation on the heavy, he’s out! Three t’ go, keep workin’ ‘em.”

When Aidan retreated from the battle, Adrian quickly moved his GEAR over to take his departing teammate’s spot in the ring formation. “Sykes is breaking off. Nawlin, I’ll handle th’ sniper, you ‘n’ Kurai’ focus th’ normals—we’ll keep ‘em in our crossfire, got it?” From his new position, a clear shot across the field to the enemy sharpshooter, still reeling from the damage it had receive during its engagement with Nawlin and the area strike that had just passed, opened up before his eyes as he adjusted his rifle’s scope. “Get moving!” he called as he laid into the distant GEAR with his heavy rifle.

Esailia cursed quietly to herself as she got up. This wasn't going as she wanted to. First the three bandits on the bridge, crewmembers not knowing how to handle guns, being ambushed on the way out the door, and now this new information about hostages. The feline captain was in the middle of flipping her PADD out when Naida ducked back inside the crawler a second before a barrage of gunfire hit the walls. "They got a 50 cal out there, Captain. I can't deal with that nest with my minigun alone."

Glancing to Nathanial real quick, Esailia barked "Get back to the bridge, get any 'nades left on the dead, and get back here quick." As the tiger took off, she turned her attention to Cynthia "I can't think about hostages when we can't even get out the door. And if we don't have GEAR backup, it means they've been engaged by things far worse than foot bandits. FIRESQUAD" She tuned to the ATCV's radio along with Nathanial and Naida's comms, while also making sure Luke was paying attention as well "Going to try a bash and dash. We're fixing to throw grenades at the gun nest, when you hear the explosions Edward, run their asses over and get on the vulc for covering fire. We'll get the civvies into the back and Naida will take over the gun. We take off, and offer hit'n'run with the vulc if needed for the GEARs. I'll report to CO about the hostages and meet-up during this."

Just as Esailia was finishing, Nathanial returned, holding two frags and a flash bang. "Guess they didn't think it a good idea to flash themselves, or were undertrained." He quipped, before rushing to the door. In the ATCV, Edward kicked the vehicle into a higher gear. "ETA 30 seconds!" Naida had been holding position beside the door, and caught one of the grenades Nathanial tossed at her. "This is one way to make an exit." She muttered to Nathanial. Esailia motioned the civvies to their feet, and spoke to Luke "Bring up the read, my squad will be busy making sure we aren't shot on the flanks. I need you to keep everyone moving fast. This isn't training. You get shot, there isn't a time out."

"Everyone ready?" She asked over the comm, turning towards the door.
"Affirmative!" Came the three other voices of the fire squad in unison.
"Throw'em!" The grenades were thrown, and Edward crested a small hill behind the gun nest...

The situation continued to evolve rapidly in Blades' C3I computer-generated overview of the battlefield, the 'Net fusing the data for him into a cohesive pattern.
Ken was standing by to move in to his location for a medevac, with Aidan on the way. Meanwhile, the remainder of the units' GEARs were doing a damn fine job pinning down the unexpected hostiles. However, he still hadn't heard a sitrep from Esailia's team, which worried him.
Sykes' voice came over the tactical commnet, and Blade replied with a sharp. "Roger," before speaking up again. "Ken, move over here and prep for medevac. Sykes, I'll secure the area so you can work unmolested. Out".
He could already see the blip in the C3I display indicating Sykes moving his way. Kicking himself mentally, he gripped both of the control sticks in the GEARs' cockpit. He felt his hackles raised, and his muzzle felt dry and he could feel his heart hammering in his ribs. He gritted his teeth and blinked rapidly as he thought, unbidden, of the feel of whiskey burning down his throat, and the blissful, soothing cocoon that would come with it if he could just have one drink...
Tightening his grip on the sticks until his artificial arm refused to go any tighter and the fur on his right hand stood up, he banished the thought, pushing the voice to an insistent nag in the back of his mind, before toeing the GEAR into motion with a tap of the pedals. LIDAR indicated bodies on the move, but the signal was hazy.
Aidan's reports began to roll in, and the vulpine squashed down his feelings and the bile rising as he listened, running the GEAR in a hunched-over 'roadie run' toward the nearest cover, as the thudding report of a heavy machine-gun sounded, followed by the warbling alert of a laser-paint on the Harlock's armoured hide. Diving and sliding on the GEARs' front, he ground to a stop behind cover, rolling onto one knee and leaning out. A zoom-in view showed a team of heavy infantry, clad in ballistic 'hard-suits' (not full powered armour, as such a thing had yet to be invented, but armour with electronic support; sensors and the like, and a full shell of hard ballistic armour over a softer suit of armour), setting up a position and fanning out. A ping with the LIDAR locked in their general position, and a burst of fire from the head-mounted miniguns sent them scattering back into cover. Rolling back into cover himself, the vulpine fired off a high-explosive round from the shoulder-mounted mortar. Rising up, he charged at the position as the round exploded, strafing the position with minigun fire, scattering and shredding the troops.
Nothing else moved, and he turned back to the center of the area.
"Position secured. Aidan, Ken should be on station momentarily. As soon as he arrives, I'll move to the Landcrawlers and find out what the situation is with Esailia's infantry team, as they haven't reported in."

At the mine, the marksman GEAR had been doing well in it's duel with Mike. The pilot had evidently been formally and expertly trained; moving position after each shot and firing only from cover and when he was afforded a shot. Each had either landed home, or hit nearby to the Prowler. However, when the GEAR returned fire with the shower of tungsten flechettes, the heavily jacked Civilian GEAR had ducked back into cover. Kuraiko's shots had then peppered it's side, and the machine had made to move away, popping smoke and decoys - and then, while moving, had strayed directly into the pattern of fire from Aidan's barrage, and had, essentially, ceased to exist in any meaningful fashion under the bombardment of the demolition munitions.
The Gatling-toting GEAR was less easily stopped. As Kuraiko took pot-shots at the GEAR, it didn't waver, and despite a few clean and powerful hits, returned fire with a withering barrage of 23mm gunfire, ripping the ground up and shredding whatever cover he was sheltering behind. The GEAR followed up by advancing, dragging a ruined leg, and unable to use its' tracks - and then the demolition rocket barrage fell from the sky. The impact missed hitting it directly, but the concussion blasted the machine forward, and sent it crashing to the ground on its' face, where it lay without moving, smoke curling in lazy strings from the shredded armour on its' back.
With the remainder of their unit down, the 'standard' equipped GEARs covered one another as they maintained their back-to-back formation. Popping smoke and flares, they scooted for cover, though one was chopped down by the massed fire from the Rough Riders' GEARs as they moved, leaving only a pair. The remaining duo of machines remained behind their cover, popping out only to exchange momentary fire, and the stalemate persisted for a few moments -

- before thunderous explosions tore up the area, showering the Roughriders with scattered flying shrapnel and gravel. The pair of GEARs high-tailed it, fleeing under the covering fire and escaping down the backside of the slope and running under the cover-fire, darting from cover to cover as they fled, smoke and hot-smoke rounds blinding sensors and tracking, and shielding their retreat.
As the smoke cleared, the thundering rumble of artillery receded, leaving the three remaining GEARs and their pilots alone in the debris.

At the landcrawlers, the hostile heavy weapons team kept their fire on the access doors to the Landcrawler. Like those encountered by Silverwind, they wore heavy armour and toted considerable ordnance. As the ATCV crested the ridge, the team were momentarily distracted and alarmed, firing their rifles at the oncoming vehicle - and thus not noting the grenades pitched their way until too late. A half-heard shout of 'GREN-' was cut off with the thump of the explosion, and the machine-gun fire cut off abruptly. There was a moments' silence, broken only by the whump-whump-whump of artillery in the distance as the mine was shelled.
The gunmen in the position rearranged themselves with dogged persistence, dragging injured limbs and damaged equipment into position - and then froze as the throbbing engine of the ATCV was underpinned by the whine of GEAR mechanisms, as Blade pointed the Harlocks' rifle directly at the pair of soldiers, the muzzle inches from their helmets.
<Give me a reason,> he said over the speakers, in a voice that dripped with the threat. <I've just lost one of my pilots, and I'm looking for someone to take it out on.>
Edward pulled himself up out of the ATCV's seat, pulling on the rollcage, and yelling "SECURED!"' toward the landcrawler, and looking toward the GEAR, and the two men who were laying down their weapons, and removing their helmets. Neither looked at all remarkable, and had any distinguishing features.
Blade kept his eye on them too, while calling over the tac-net to the others.
"Everyone, sound off. What's the situation? Everything seems to be secured at the 'Crawlers, and at the Irrigation Facility. I heard artillery! What's going on? Any news on the hostages location?"
Despite Arcade being rendered out of action, and whatever had happened to Myrina - Blade still wasn't sure - they still had no firm intel on the hostages' location, or even what the bandits had been after. Or where they'd got their firepower from, if that had indeed been artillery. Not to mention the military-grade combat armour the infantry he'd encountered had sported. Something else was going on here, and he felt that if they could find the hostages, they'd find out what. Or at least, be on course to find out what.

Mike grinned ear to ear as prowler stood in a wide stance, firing a cone of defiance at his opponent. This was the best he could do, the light marksman shooting at him was excellent on his follow up shots, so there he was, suppressing him with a shotgun. were the darts lethal at this range? no, but they still did damage and took away his focus. what was his next move...the pilots were shaken, backed into a corner and playing long range, keeping the enemy at bay, if only the heavy and marksman were down, then he could...

<Roger, danger close> Adrian advised as muscle memory told mike to eat dirt, which he did without argument. Prowler dove to the ground a moment before the rockets hit, both the marksmen falling to kurikos fire, and the heavy disappearing to the explosions.

<Marksman and heavy down!> mike called stowing his rifle and shotgun. this was it, the final push, with the two hard targets down he reached for the sword, the scabbard disengaging as he pulled. <closing in for mop up> he called. The enemy was broken, he could see It in their movements, ancient instincts demanding he give chase. walking to the ledge he glared down at the three survivors as he armed the smoke and flares. this would be short, quick and- <SECONDARIES!> mike yelled as he heard the whistles...

he lost a few seconds there...he checked himself. no blood, no intrusion to the pod, the cameras were dark. <Im up!> he said as he pushed Prowler up, dirt cascading from its back. <this is what happens when you put a several Ton monster on a cliff, and surprise rockets ruin your fun.> cleared of the dirt, mike stood and looked about, sword ready chain spinning with a muted hum. <status report?>