Coming soon...

---

Rain...

Endless rain...

The rainforests of New Zealand were taken to a literal level, as this dark and stormy night was, at a glance, no different than any other night. While thrown off by the spontaneous near-constant rain, a Morepork bird sat perched in a tree, its feathers drenched but unperturbed otherwise. The Owl creature watched the forests it claimed as its home and was at peace... A massive explosion vibrated through the rainforest, causing the bird - and many others - to fly away.

A Shell, the IOR's standard "footsoldier" design, quickboosted backward through the treeline - knocking the whole damn thing over like it was dominoes. He got about three rounds off from his rifle, as another Shell that many would recognize as the infamous Grim Reaper quick boosted directly at him.

"What the-?" He tried to escape, but The Grim Reaper had closed the gap and blasted him point-blank with the shotgun. Shredding the poor Shell to bits, he crashed into the ground as a firey ruin. The Grim Reaper quickly turned to see two more IOR Footsoldier Shells flying towards him, firing away with their assault rifle. A round hit him on the shoulder, another round hit him dead center, and he quickly boosted into the treeline for cover. The two Shells split up, and one chased The Grim Reaper, fired into the treeline, and attempted to hit him. However, his barrage was interrupted by a round from the Grim Reaper's shoulder-mounted cannons, which hit him directly in the shoulder. Staggering him, then the Grim Reaper moved in to deliver the kill...

"... Oh no, you don't, you bastard!" The female pilot of the other IOR Shell shouted as she charged in, firing wildly as a hip compartment in her Shell opened up - revealing a knife. She reached for it and dived, releasing a savage, animalistic battlecry. She raised the knife above her head and tried to dive in to impale the Grim Reaper. The infamous Death God stopped dead in his tracks and quickly used his other shotgun to stop the attack. Causing a brief stalemate...

"Got you now, bastard!" The Shell that the Grim Reaper had dead to rights charged in, firing away at Abel and hitting him several times - chipping away at the Grim Reaper's armor.

"... Do you now?" The pilot of the Grim Reaper said as his shoulder cannons aimed for the one that had him pinned down and blasted her with both point blank. They dug massive holes through her Shell's armor, sending it staggering backward.

"... HE'S GOT MY GRAVITY MATRIX!" She shouted as the Shell fell over, and she ejected before the thing could collapse... her mini-escape pod flew out, deployed the parachute, and let out a sigh of relief... before she looked down the barrel of the Grim Reaper's shotgun. She made silent peace with her deity...

"... Ceasefire, ceasefire, ceasefire, ceasefire, ceasefire!" Radiated through the comms as another IOR Shell made a sudden landing off to the side. He knelt on impact, stood tall, facing the infamous Grim Reaper, and spoke, "My word, you Pups..."

"Commander Fox," The Grim Reaper told him, turning around to face the IOR Shell, sheets of rain dripping down the Grim Reaper. "It's about time you showed up...."

"You know, there is a more constructive way to gain my attention than killing my men and women," Commander Fox answered. "I gave you a direct link to contact me, you know?"

"... But, this way speaks volumes louder," The operator of the Death God Unit, Tabitha Crest, the Eclipse, butt in.

"So, you finally decided to hear out my offer?" Commander Fox said. "Well, I guess we can excuse the Patrol Group you just slaughtered for absolutely no reason at all... all is fair in love and war, after all." He followed that with a chuckle.

"You seek a world free from the Ruling Corporation's malfeasance..." Tabitha said, "... Perhaps this is a vision we both share. However, Abel here is not going to follow anyone blindly..."

The Grim Reaper aimed one shotgun at Commander Fox...

"... He wants to see just how serious you are."'

The Grim Reaper boosted toward Commander Fox, and the man could only laugh over the comms.

"... Then I will show you."



"... Vultures, I have a job for you."

Ava spoke through the radio as The Nest approached New Zealand; the rain pounded against its exterior. "We're approaching New Zealand, making our way to Modal-Auckland. However, before we're allowed into Modal-Auckland, Paragon United wants us to complete a job first."

She paused, and on the screen was an image of a massive Murakumo robotics airship escorted by fighters, helicopters, and other aircraft. "Murakumo Robotics has sent a forward party to establish a foothold on New Zealand for them to invade as well, and being Paragon United premier enemy, they have... strongly requested that we eliminate them. Then we can move onto Modal-Auckland and get briefed on whatever insane operation Paragon has cooked up."

There was another pause. "Their armaments seem very light; they thought they were being sneaky, and they didn't bring any firepower that would trouble a team of Shells. However, don't underestimate them; they could very well have their own team of Shells aboard. "They will arrive in twenty minutes, so I will leave it up to you all to decide to handle this... I suggest an ambush, but you're not WOLFHOUND's best for nothing, after all."

The Nest made landfall and descended closer to the beach, covered in debris from previous battles, and on the other side of the beach of a thick rainforest. "Paragon is enforcing a strict guidance on usage of codenames only until they lift it, so unless you want us to miss out on a lot of money, I suggest you all stick to it. I will be hands-off this time and let you know about any developments. Remember, complete the mission, get paid for the mission, and then you all can go waste your money in the brothels, bars, and casinos..."

The Shells were deployed from the Nest, and their flying fortress drifted away from the combat zone.

"... Wings of fortune. And let that bird fly high."

---

---

"... System checks complete, combat mode is engaged."

The very feminine voice of Magpie spoke through the radios, as it was the procedure in the WOLFHOUND world to inform your teammates about your Shell's status. Keeping everyone in the loop was important, especially to Magpie. Though she was a bit annoyed that Ava railroaded them into a mission before they so much as stepped foot in New Zealand, she knew that this was work for the other Shells teams like the Vanguard... but, such is the life of a WOLFHOUND. It was easy money, and as long as she had money, she could not complain.

When it was time, Magpie dropped from the Nest and watched as it flew off. The endless rain hit against her armor, reducing visibility, which could work both ways for the team. However, she scanned her environment and saw all the Shell ruins... all the pilots that were once strong and mighty, just like them, cut down and became nothing but scrap for the junkies to salvage. She shrugged it off and spoke through the radios, "I'm going to follow ya'll lead, but an ambush is our best option here."

---

There was a deep respect for the machine whenever Owl decided to cover up. It was a moment of intimacy, to look at the armor and the muted paint while the servo assistant draped the couple hundred pound thermal blanket over the majority of the machine. He clambered up the side to pull the hood over the sensors, giving the machine a gentle pat on its flat head. It was a friend and companion to him in the silent times when one could only give their thoughts to an intimate partner.
Never once had he thought to burden someone else with that; it wouldn't have been fair. But, a Man and his Shell could get to know one another. They were partners on a strange and unforgiving field, and even if it was only for a short time, the machine would never question your loyalty or waiver in its own faith. It was a rock solid kind of relationship.
Owl slipped downward as the servos connected the last loopholes around the anti thermal cloak, locking the hooks on his boot into a small footfall before swinging up into the open cockpit of the Shell. In this state, it was standing room only as the seat was practically trying to keep you out of the mouth-like opening. Only when he situated his right arm into the main ignition did the seating begin to slide back into the core of the Shell, tilting him until he was comfortable before the safety locks gripped into his armored pilot suit.

Barn was built to be quick and sturdy, packing weight behind a set of pistons rated for a sized up model. He'd learned over a sixty year career that there was value in speed and maneuverability over brute firepower, and that a surprise could trump them all. Owl had heard the orders from Birdwatcher, and the suggestion of an ambush. He began to fiddle with the audio board of Barn's personal console, locking into the latest batch of Old World he'd gotten rendered down from a server somewhere far away. He made sure to turn it up, but turned the notification and comm audio up even louder.
Until the hits were starting, he had to get in the zone. If you didn't stop living young, you'd never be old; a philosophy he held tight to his chest as the thrumming guitar started to fill out the audio ports of his cockpit. Sitting in the relative dark as the machine was loaded into its ejection port, it rattled slightly passing down the track until it locked in.

Barn Owl, engaged and dropping long. Low power running, aiming for the high ground for a scan.
Listening for feedback, he felt the difference in pressure as he left the barrel of the drop tube and immediately dumped a large portion of his generator reserves into an immediate forward thrust that sent him on a long forward arc through the air.
"Recommend fire support draw attention for the coup de grâce, Magpie. Lets not give them a chance to call backup."
Owl's thick Austrian accent sounded like a warm fire over the comms line, swimming through the airwaves as he let the Shell slowly descend down using only the bare minimum to keep it from turning into a pancake on the impact. His forward display projected a carefully calculated trajectory that he could adjust with his eyes and have the jets automatically compensate for the difference.

He stood in the Nest's hangar, double checking he's properly wearing his uniform. It was black, hard armored, and tailored to his body. There were bright blue LED lights that ran the length of his arms, torso, and legs that ran his vital signs while in combat. He secured his helmet, hearing Ava directly in his ears, instead of the intercom system throughout the entire ship. He climbed into Hachidori through the back. It led right into the cockpit. The inside seemed larger than it did on the outside. It could fit, at the most, two other people if they didn't mind standing or being jerked around by its movement.

He sat in his seat, flipping various switches, his music came on as soon as the Shell turned on. He ran diagnostics. He never took off without letting the test run through. Anything could happen out there, nothing but his actions were under his control. And he could control how his Shell ran if he made sure all the tests came back 100%. He had checked it this morning, as was his routine to check it every morning after his workout and every evening before he went to bed. The tests came back the same, 100%. Hachidori was released from the ship and it landed on its feet, ready to go.

"Hachidori's diagnostics 100%. Can ambush from above." His English was lightly accented. A mix of British and Japanese depending on the vowel. His music played in the background of the comms. Hachidori moved forward, leaving the landing site and going for the first skyscraper in disrepair. It jumped, grabbing the top of the building, the knees modified for jumping its height plus an additional few meters without a running start. It crouched on it, readying to drop from above. Some debris hit the ground below, but he wasn't bothered. Areas in battle zones always had something falling off or crashing. It was only a matter of time, before whole buildings toppled over. He activated his swords. The hilts dropped out of Hachidori's wrists, but they didn't light up with energy yet. His generator was still at 100%. The moment he turned on the energy blades, it'll start to decrease.

"Give me the word and I can get in close."

---

---

A long, weary sigh escaped the cockpit of King Gizzard. It was a bullshit little power move Corps liked to play. A favour for free under the table before they could get down to "business". He was about to call it for the political dick swing that it was but bit his tongue at the last second and settled for a longer-than-normal drag of his cigarette. He was on thin ice as it was and fucking up this mission, however idiotic it was, would likely be what finally brings him in front of a firing squad. Some of his fellow "Vultures" really needed the money anyway, so at least he didn't feel like he was taking it like a chump for nothing.

"System check lookin' good, one hundred percent, all systems go, et cetra." His bored southern rasp informed down the radios, flicking his cigarette out of the cockpit before it closed shut with a metallic thud.

King Gizzard whirred to life as its pilot put his feet up on the control board - missing a few buttons that were no longer needed due to its piloting system. A hatch opened above the cockpit with a woosh and down came the guitar-shaped apparatus that controlled the shell, resting just above its pilot's lap. He inhaled and put his hands on the machine - 'Old Boy' as he liked to call it - and let his left hand run up and down the strings, quietly savouring the soft screech as his skin glided against the metal. He broke the silence with a hard downstroke and the shell took a step forward. While other pilots were busy selecting music, Gizzard was creating it with every step. A strum turned to a rhythm turned to a symphony as the machine made its descent from The Nest's hanger.

Despite its borderline ramshackle appearance, the shell glided through the air in an almost beautiful arc - momentarily resembling the very birds mimicked by the squad. When it landed, King Gizzard's momentum didn't falter as it deftly shifted to ground movement, weaving through the derelict shells and crumbling buildings and moving further away from the squad.

"Gizzard, movin' towards the nearest treeline. Gonna let 'em move in a little and fuck 'em up from behind. Should be easy pickin's for the firing support." A rueful little smile spread on his face as King Gizzard blitzed into the vegetation and halted, crouching amongst the shadows. "Or, sit back and enjoy the show. I don't give a shit.

As if in anticipation, King Gizzard's buzzsaw spun softly.

---

---

The Carrion Crow rubbed out her cigarette against the black steel of her machine, letting it fall to the floor of the hangar like she always did before a mission. She let out a deep breath before stepping inside the cockpit.

”Welcome back, Miss-

“Shut up…” Crow growled, drowning out the AI as it tried to kiss her ass with procedural suggestions it knew she would like. It didn’t need her face or voice to recognize her; her gait, the length of her smoke break, the brand of cigarettes she liked, and the specific rhythms of her movement as she clambered inside were all cues it had memorized and used to predict her entry and confirm her identity. The mercenary squirmed out of her jacket and slid into her chair, lifting up her ponytail as she plugged herself into the neural interface. A subtle tingle spread its way down her spine. CROW-III’s specs began syncing up with her mind; not represented visually, but innately understood.

“Looks like everything’s running fine up here…” The Carrion Crow’s Latin American accent came filtered through a voice typically on the husky side, and almost always at least slightly irritated. “Dropping in.”

She had a moment to breathe as her Shell drifted down to earth, having already picked out a spot she’d identified from the topography scans. New Zealand beaches were honestly pretty fucked when it came to finding some nice high ground, but she managed to find a decent enough spot on a cliffside. The rainforest would give them good cover, but her cannon could cut through a lot of trees. This whole job seemed like a cakewalk any rookie fresh out of the corporate stables could pull off, to be honest. Something was just a little fishy about it, even if she couldn’t-

Crow frowned, trying to parse out the cacophony of nonsense going through the comm channels.

“The shit I have to put up with here…” She muttered under her breath. “Perra, can-”

”Filtering out all extraneous noise from the communications line, Miss-”

“Sure.” Crow cut the AI off as her Shell’s feet touched the earth, once more blessed with the gift of silence only occasionally broken by chatter. She set the YOMI system to start running scans. Its sensor array managed to cut through the rain like butter, revealing what could potentially be the whole battlefield. She initiated the uplink, transferring the data to the rest of her squad.

“Scans should be up for everyone. Keep an eye on ‘em.” She huffed, getting ready to wait out the snoozefest.

"Gizzard, movin' towards the nearest treeline. Gonna let 'em move in a little and fuck 'em up from behind. Should be easy pickin's for the firing support." A rueful little smile spread on his face as King Gizzard blitzed into the vegetation and halted, crouching amongst the shadows. "Or, sit back and enjoy the show. I don't give a shit.

“Copy that Gizz, parking my ass down.” The Carrion Crow wore an adversarial smile the second she heard King Gizzard’s voice. Her Shell’s bipedal legs folded as her sniper cannon extended to its full length. She was ready for some easy pickin’s.

“You mind syncing me up to your ventriculum feed?” She asked. “I’m in the mood to show off tonight.”

Mentions: N/A
Location: The Beach

---

The Shrike stood, ancient in its form and terrible in its visage. Long, claw-like, fingers bulked with immense armor plating into the horrible Shrike's Talons of repute. Heavy arms loaded with the impossible density of myomer-muscle-like-chords that gave the S-86 its unparalleled strength. Broad shouldered, small of head, barrel-like in its chest... Its bulky silhouette was a far cry from the sleek outlines of many of its nest mates. It was one of the heaviest Shells in Vulture Squad and the prodigious layers of heavy armor upon its archaic form made its role and function abundantly clear. As its pilot, Shrike the Man, nestled into the cramped cockpit a woman's voice chirped onto the combat frequency in a short burst of direct, ice-laden, messages;

"Clockwork on Comms; will monitor squad Shell status from the Nest. Touchdown with the crew post op. Ossifrage is running repairs solo on this one. Shrike status all-clear. Going Silent."

The Shrike, as opposed to more modern machines, required bulkier means of control. The already small cockpit seemed more claustrophobic than ordinary as the mass of its pilot filled the space. The heavy helmet came down upon his head, feeding sensory data into his eyes and ears. His hands fell onto the controls, the years of operating this one machine sending the ghostly sensation of phantom presses along his fingertips and arms. As he caressed over the worn buttons, battlefields of years past played across his vision.

Clockwork's voice chirped into his communicator band privately, bringing him back from reverie as the Vulture Squad began to dismount the Nest. He didn't have to strain to hear, but her voice was quiet in the privacy of their private radio band. There was no less ice in her words, however.

_{"The rain never stops. Don't scratch the paint on this easy shit, Shrike. If I have to redo the scheme before the job has even started I'll kick your ass."}

He chuckled to himself, hearing his own voice muffled by the bulky neuro-helmet he wore. A swift ping of the radio band signaled his acknowledgement of her message, before he focused onto the combat frequency. When the Shrike stepped out of the hangar it was contradiction to the targeted dismounts of the rest of the squad. The Shell plummeted, as if wings pinioned, straight out of its hangar bay towards the beach below. The squad's movements filled his HUD, delegated into a burst of tactical data that took up minimal clutter in his displays. The comms chatter washed over him as he fell like a stone towards the sea.

A violent burst of the boosters signaled his landing. The mass of the Shell landing upon the surf, and the blast of superheated thrusters, caused the churning sea waters to hiss and explode into a cloud of water and steam around the Shell as its imposing visage touched down.

"Shrike Online."

At last, his own voice cut into the comms chatter with an accent matching Owl's; but beyond that, Shrike spoke with a distinct authority and presence of self. His words were brief and carried the efficiency that decades of combat communications brings. The Shell began to move, powerful legs carrying it across the sands of the beach in a swift gait as its fingers snapped magnetically into place and fused into the immense driving spikes of the Shell's namesake. He was taking a central position amongst the scattered blips of the Vulture Squad, noting Gizzard and Ossifrage's intentions as well as the scattered Fire Support element of the squad.

"Anchor on me. Hammer to Anvil."

His swift words were accompanied by the Shell's sudden blitz of movement, powerful arms striking into the sands. In a scarce few moments the Shrike was, by all visibility, just another partially buried old Shell near to Hachidori's ambush position. A swiftly executed ping to acknowledge Hachidori deliberately was all the further communications offered by Shrike as they awaited their ambush targets. The constant drum of the rain was almost soothing in a moment like this. Beneath the sands one hand unfused its fingers and gripped its pistol in concealment, the shield-bearing left arm above the sands and ready to produce its protective barrier should the ruse fail-- or should his allies own shots fly danger close in the moment of ambush. Such was the way of war.

---

---

The Shells had deployed, some quickly advanced into the treeline for cover, and it wouldn't be long before the Murakumo Robotics Advance Party would catch sight of them. Their radar systems were likely not advanced, or this operation would have died in the water. The plan was to let the fire support take apart the Advance Party, with the others likely handling the rest. In Magpie's opinion, the best way to eliminate threats was to destroy them before they could fight back. Some of the other Vultures liked the rush of battle, but they forgot that they had to front the bill to get their Shells repaired.

"Let the fire support do all the heavy lifting. Typical," Magpie replied in the comms... one might get the idea she was scathing, given that it was spoken completely monotone until that statement was followed by laughter. "Moving, Barn Owl, I trust everyone else sticks to their strength, yeah?"

Magpie quickboosted into the treeline; her radar suppressant should keep her safe - at least for now - she made sure to scan the skies... her FCS was stated to be one of the best in the world! Or at least that was what the gentleman who sold it to her said. It wasn't long until the Advance Party's primary airship. A massive beast of an aircraft that dwafted the Shells - but it reminded her of the Nest in size. It was heavily armored and had some cannons underneath and on the sides - suggesting to Magpie that this was made for quick entry into the battlefield to drop off forces. It was escorted by Murakumo's fighter jets and some drones with microcannons under-mounted. That would make this problematic... but Magpie was here to provide firing support; she would let the other Vultures take center stage.

The fleet flew above her, rustling the treeline and drifting off, as Magpie readied The Claw...

... They drifted into the perfect spot for the ambush.

---

Barn Owl impacted a high area with little noise or damage, the massive leg shocks eating up any downward momentum with a loud hiss as the systems regulated the pressure in the hydraulic pistons. The thermaline cloak strapped tight to the machine kept its heat signature low as possible with dozens and dozens of thick aluminum layers, leaving only the deadly sharp blade of his weapon system poking out from beneath. One hand gripped the spire-like surface that flanked the Shell, while the right hand held tight to the massive shot-axe's main grip. He had thought about getting lower, but God forbid they needed to do any sort of aerial operating... So he figured keeping somewhat of an elevated plane would be advantageous. He watched the radar screen at his upper left as his scan pulsed out of the machine to echo across the open air.

And then the delivery came.

Barn Owl's jaw dropped as the Forward ship rolled slowly but surely into the conflict's frame.
"Magpie, you're seeing this?"
He switched his comm line to Vulture's curated frequency.
"Gizzard, Hachidori, we're gonna have a big fucking problem in a second! Recommend rolling on top of it, the cannons aren't up there and the defenses aren't going to fire on their own ship! Take Ossi with you for support!"

Keeping the latches for his disposable cloak intact for now, the great tonnage of machine known as Barn Owl took a springboard leap off its building perch. The aim was link up with Shrike and the other fire supports in order to give them a blocker in case enemy forces got too close.
With next to no heat coming from the initial jump, it was hard to get a read on where Barn Owl was with any sort of automatic aiming assist so long as he didn't use any sort of boosting feature. He'd become used to using such things sparingly, letting his low capacity generator get its chance to recharge every instant he could while keeping any automated weapons more or less out of the range of threat. The principle was demonstrated post haste; one of the smaller forward drones zipped up on him within a few dozen feet. Inside the machine, the man's right arm flicked as if it were a twitch reaction that caused every bit of pent up force held in the upper Shell to rotate and cleave through the unfortunate drone.

In the middle of that hanging, the silhouette of the Shell looked almost like that of its namesake, a friendly cream-colored face punctuated by the sharp beak and two great talons at its rear.
"Shrike, I'm moving to cover Fire Support with you! Crow, don't get caught roosting you hear!?"

---

---

The Carrion Crow watched as the advance force drifted into position. The dropship raised an eyebrow, but with the element of surprise and the biggest gun in the squad in her arsenal, she’d seen a lot worse. It was clearly sparking some adrenaline in her comrades, though.

“I’ll show them a ‘big fucking problem’...” Crow muttered under her breath. “Perra, it’s time.”

A searing surge shot down her spine and up her neck as she merged with the YOMI system, mind on fire as troop layouts, specs, comrades’ combat and psych records, weather data, ballistics simulations and every bit of information it could get its greedy little hands on synthesized itself and slithered through her brain. She took aim at the projected seam in the armor on the dropship’s engines.

"Crow, don't-"

”Got it.” The pilot interrupted, as if she’d read his mind.

She fired.

Her whole Shell rocked back as the Monroe fired off, sending a deafening bang through the whole battlefield. Right as the first shot made impact, she fired again, and immediately stood up, cannon still smoking as it folded itself away. Shot one punched a crater into one of its engines. Shot two, due to perfectly predicted reactions of its target, landed exactly where shot one did, turning that crater into a massive hole straight through to the other side, projectile managing to impact against the engine on the opposite side. The AI predicted a reaction from the cannons, and the drones, but Crow was gone, dropping off the side of the cliff it was perched on as bullets tried in vain to catch up with it. She watched the dropship slip out of view, drifting out of control with one engine aflame.

She unsynced, drifting back to reality as she fell. She wiped the sweat from her face as she began to fly, drifting sideways. Despite how sedentary her Shell typically was, it was no slouch when it came to flying. She spoke into comms, her voice only slightly shaken:

”I don’t care if you all get on top of that thing, but get out from under it, it’s going down.” Crow paused to shake her head a little, shaking off the tingles. ”Magpie, can you make sure it’s down for me? I’ll be back to support in a sec.”

---

---

“Copy that Gizz, parking my ass down.” The Carrion Crow wore an adversarial smile the second she heard King Gizzard’s voice. Her Shell’s bipedal legs folded as her sniper cannon extended to its full length. She was ready for some easy pickin’s.

“You mind syncing me up to your ventriculum feed?” She asked. “I’m in the mood to show off tonight.”

”Rodger dodger, Crow. Patchin’ you into Old Boy now.” He stretched in his chair, getting ready for the lower back strain that came from prolonged shell piloting. ”Anythin’ for my biggest fan.” He added while pressing a few buttons on his console. Were his tone any dryer it could well have absorbed all the rain in New Zealand.

As his console hissed for a second - signifying the successful addition of a new frequency into his piloting system - the party was getting underway. King Gizzard disappeared under the shadow of the dropship.

"Gizzard, Hachidori, we're gonna have a big fucking problem in a second! Recommend rolling on top of it, the cannons aren't up there and the defenses aren't going to fire on their own ship! Take Ossi with you for support!"

He exhaled from his nose, a not-insignificant chunk of him wanting to tell the Owl-man to stick it. "Aye aye, you just rest easy hm?" Gizzard replied.

His hands moved delicately over the strings, a soft screech as he waved up and down the fretboard for a moment, waiting for the inevitable.



The shot of Carrion Crow's giant-ass sniper rifle rung out across the battlefield. As though God themselves had deigned to join the fight and rain lightning down onto the dropship. He knew she'd jump the gun the second she started receiving orders. As such, King Gizzard was primed as well.



A heavy downstroke on a simple Em chord. The 'ENCORE' launchers on King Gizzard's shoulder fired with a whistle up towards the dropship. Close enough and likely disoriented enough that the missiles slammed right into its firing systems on its right side, an explosion of colour that engulfed a few nearby drones and likely disoriented some of the nearby jets with nearly half the ship drenched in a pastel fog.

"On second thoughts, Crow. I'm gonna go surround sound on this one." The speaker on Gizzard's other shoulder hummed, ready to provide the soundtrack for this engagement. "This little hit goes out to Murakumo Robotics."

Gone where the single strokes and deliberate movements. Like a rush of water breaking a dam, King Gizzard's Ventriculum0001 system erupted in a cacophony of sound, plucked notes and power chords amplified out onto the previously quiet and still wasteland and piercing through the endless noise of rain falling on metal.

With speed and fluidity that would make an AI blush, King Gizzard bent and launched itself upwards towards the ship. Sailing through the night sky as its extended guitar solo rung out towards friend and foe alike. The shell blasted through the multicoloured mist and landed atop the ship with a heavy thud.

Gizzard was afforded the opportunity to see the sniper damage up close. His missile fire had hopefully prevented much of a counter-attack after she'd left the ships engines a smouldering wreck.

He didn't completely trust Owl's belief that the drones wouldn't fire on their own ship just to catch one shell, but it wasn't a matter. Raising his Buzzsaw and revving it up, he smiled lightly, he had an idea of his own. King Gizzard plunged the massive high frequency 'Velvet Buzzsaw' elbow deep into the shell, letting it ravage anything and everything inside as it tore right through the armour plating. Then, using the shell's incredible speed, it began to zip around while keeping the buzzsaw active where it was. A dark red blur of saw noises and guitar solos skated around the top of the ship, cutting its top layer to ribbons while never staying stationery or predictable enough for an easy retaliatory strike from the air support.

"(Whistles merrily)."

Mentions: Yes
Location: The Beach, with added wrecked airship for taste

---

The ambush was set. Everyone, for better or for worse, was in their chosen positions. Shrike felt calm. The ancient machine that idled beneath his fingers was worn like a favorite glove, and all its silent tremors and vibrations were familiar to him. His fingers lightly danced over his controls as his heavy display helm cast predictive movements of the drone swarm and airship beyond his field of direct vision. His, in a relaxed manner, settled upon the movement controls and he let out a single breath.

”Got it.” The pilot interrupted, as if she’d read his mind.

She fired.

Within the breadth of that deafening bang, the Shrike's boosters triggered and it surged from the sands in an explosion of movement and insignificant chaff. The ambush was executed. The Shrike rose like a jagged metal behemoth, left arm locking magnetically into the horrendous spike of brutality as it outstretched and impaled onto a drone that had wandered too closely, a micro explosion rocking down Shrike's arm as smoke and oil washed over it. Cutting the limited boosters there, Shrike landed heavy upon the ground right as Crow's second shot connected with the crater of the first. Swiping the pistol-bearing right arm along the left to clear the debris of the drone off the spike-hand, Shrike spared a single glance upwards to affirm the visual feeds he was receiving.

Then he was a visage in efficiency as a drone's microcannon pinged a shot off his rear shoulder armor. The Shell whirled about, pistol upraised. His targeting data was struggling to compute the myriad drone positions as the team's data tether updated from everyone's positions, but his eyes didn't have such reservations; in a swift semicircle of movement the pistol rang out in a dizzying hail of fire for a sidearm, shots landing squarely against the vulnerable, exposed, flight apparati of several drones that were attempting to swarm around him. With breathing room briefly established, Shrike's radiators spiked as his boosters were punched into maximum thrust to maneuver from beneath the toppling airship. His eyes flickered over the display, and his hands twitched on the controls to adjust movements to complete the linkup with Barn Owl. His boosters cut the moment he was safely from beneath the airship, the Shrike's long steps now breaking into a physical sprint.

A swift tap of the comm panel pinged @AtomicEmperor Barn Owl directly; "Keep moving. Crow's alone. Move to support. Watch the skies."

And as if his words were predictive, and seeming to spite his fire control system's inadequecies, Shrike whirled and dropped to a knee, raising the left arm up even as his gatling cannon rotated into position on his shoulder. The blazing light of his energy shield manifested, a full length barrier cutting into the sand and extending upwards to the height of the Shell. Just in time, as a fighter jet's withering cannon fire exploded along the beach and into Shrike's shield. The energy barrier held as the strafing fire rained upon it, but Shrike could feel the heat creeping up into his cockpit from having deflected such a devastating and surgical strike.

The shield disappeared in an equally disorienting disappearance of color. Then, the gatling cannon unleashed its own retort into the skies; the first jet's wingman (Or, perhaps, Wing-AI, knowing Murakumo) was deterred off-course by the return torrent of fire, a few stray micro-missiles whizzing past Shrike and impacting into the sands on the beach. Everywhere this man went, things exploded around him it seemed. He made sure to specifically flag those jets as priority targets in the team's shared targeting system as his gatling cannon rotated out of its functional position, and his Shell rose back to its feet.

His voice rang across the combat frequency;

"Need support with those jets."

He was wary of this downed carrier. The Shrike ambulated around the downed vessel like a jagged metal predator as Gizzard ripped into its surface from above. The pistol slotted into its internal compartment; the mighty Susanoo laser rifle slung into the arms. One doesn't usually send a carrier without cargo and soldiers, and he was going to be the first thing anything that emerged from its wreckage had to deal with.

"Copy that," he said. He was ready to jump on the airship, waiting to get the timing right. It was higher than the building he was stationed on. Crow shot at the airship several times. The warning came into his comms about getting out from under it. The closer it got to him, the more he charged up his hyper jump. Just before the building went down with the ship, he jumped on top of it, staying out of Gizzard's way. He didn't think Gizzard would saw him in half, but it was never good to get in a fellow soldier's way.

He ran across the top, dodging areas that exploded and went up in flames from the system being damaged. He activated his energy swords. One sword longer than the other. Both bright blue. He the drones were being taken care of it. It was the fighter jets that had his attention. Hachidori couldn't fly, but he could use leverage from the airship. He pushed off it, twisted in midair, and stabbed right into a fighter jet just as Shrike requested back up.

Sparks flew from the jet. He tore through it straight down the middle, before jumping off and landing on another jet. The one he just destroyed, blew up, crashing into the ground in a pile of fire.

"Please watch out for falling jets," he advised. He sliced the jet he was on in half, then moved on to the next. There weren't a lot of them. He downed as many as he could, before landing some distance away from the downed airship.

Systems at 80%.

He turned off the energy blades, but didn't put away the hilts just in case. "I'm at 80% generator life." He thought it best to keep the crew updated on his status. "No damage to Hachidori." It wouldn't be good to keep it to himself just to find out later why he's out of the fight sooner than they are.

---

---

The pilot of Magpie was almost tempted to give Barn Owl a direct feed to the inside of her Shell; just so Barn Owl could see her playfully roll her eyes at him. She wasn't sure if that would violate the confidentiality clause that Ava placed. The thought of Ava chastising her made Magpie actually roll her eyes. Just who in their right mind would go and upset their fearless leader. Magpie chuckled to herself as she spoke through the comms and said,

"Owl... RELAX... you're acting like we haven't been through worse. Remember when Gizzard soloed two Shells and won? I remember you freaking out then, too. So watch... and... learn...." Magpie followed it up with a playful chuckle as Gizzard probably felt the same way as her - or at least, she was the one taking it all in jest. The ambush had officially begun when Crow had used her sniper cannon to destroy the engine - and dipped before they could return fire. Gizzard launched himself at the transport, cleaved it to pieces from the top, and vanished without a trace. Shrike was smart enough to target the drones, which they honestly should have taken out first - the fighters and drones would have more firepower than a simple assault transport - but there was nothing they could do about it now, right? Hachidori used the airship as a stepping stool to go after some of the fighters, but there were too many to take out on his own.

Unfortunately, few members of Vulture were equipped to take on a squad of fighters except for Magpie.

"I'm at 80% generator life."

"That fast? Don't blow your load too quick; we still have a lot of fighting to do!" Magpie followed it with some laughter and activated the claw. With a few swipes of her fingers, she went from HIGH-EXPLOSIVE to ANTI-AIR.

Briefly, Magpie went through different frequencies until she found the one that Murakumo's advance party was using...

"... WE'RE GOING DOWN!" A feminine voice said, Magpie guessed.

"What the fuck was that?!"

"... I think it was a Shell!"

"Where did they go!?"

"Who gives a shit! All pilots, Soarched Earth!"

"I'm going to use the Drones to cover the transport! We need to call for reinforcements!"

As the transport craft hit the ground, sending dirt and debris in all directions, Magpie took cover behind a hill large enough to cover her relatively small Shell. Magpie switched back to their comms as all she needed to hear was reinforcements... which would likely include Murakumo's automated Shells, and Magpie did not want to deal with that. However, the fighter jets had switched from escort to carpet bombing everything that could hide a shell - unleashing a hellfire of missiles at the treelines, debris, and whatever else. The battlefield was filled with explosions as the pilots went crazy, destroying everything in sight in the hope of exposing something - with the trees being set ablaze. Magpie knew that they would probably run out of ammo before anything else, but at the same time, they needed to wrap this up fast.

Knowing Paragon, they would do their absolute damndest to make the Vulture Squad wipe up any reinforcements - only coming in unless necessary. It made Magpie sneer... she watched as the Drones took a defensive position around the grounded transport - they were not a threat.

"Need support with those jets."

"Got you," Magpie said; she jumped out of cover, the shoulder-mounted rocket launchers popped open. Thankfully, Shrike had painted some targets for her, and she released six various missiles that quickly cut through the air and collided with a bomber group. There was a loud BOOM as it created a giant explosion mid-air, and the fighters were destroyed.

However, this made the remaining fighters target not just her position but the Shrike's. Magpie's boosters activated as she retreated towards the beach - since they were setting the treeline on fire, it made no sense for her to remain there.

"Put some funk on for me, Gizzard!"

---

Of course, they were right. There was little to be concerned with on the initial contact, and Crow alone packed enough firepower to bring down a dropship like that. He figured maybe reconfiguring Barn Owl well enough, he probably could too. It wasn't his preference. Skillfully, he tilted the Shell backward in mid air to align his high-powered horizontal jump jets to the ground. A big display of his current power over regenerative rate was displayed on his heads-up, giving him a good idea of how much height he could get off this silly maneuver. He still had distance to make up before getting into Fire Support's radius, but he didn't want to be utterly useless until then...
His jets flared, pushing him upward higher into the sky like a rocket. The g-force would've knocked an untrained pilot unconscious, but he'd been around speed and gravity before; and a few augments in his body made the experience practically normal. As he crested the height of the boost, one of the enemy jets made it within engagement range on a lucky draw. Once more, Barn Owl applied a small boost that almost cleaned out his generator, but put him on track to fall back down in the least dangerous way possible.
As he hung for a moment, the jet inched closer and closer. Its defensive guns rattled off, but the flowing cloak made manual aim a bit of a crapshoot. Thirty millimeter high penetration slugs ripped through the anti-thermal cloak and buzzed a section of it into ribbons, but totally missed Barn Owl as it approached the danger zone. Barn Owl could feel his right arm move practically without his consent, the flicking motion having occurred over and over and over again in his long career: The massive hundred and two millimeter "shotgun" that the Shell used as its only form of weaponry struck out at full length. With the CQBFCS and his own internal processing units working at full tandem, he snapshotted the jet just as they passed on a near collision. The twelve tungsten flechette projectiles that a single shell contained were more than enough to demolish the small vessel as they ripped through fuel-laden fuselage and flesh filled cockpit alike.

And then it was mostly quiet again.

"Owl... RELAX... you're acting like we haven't been through worse."

He wanted to bark back, like that makes us invincible? But, in truth, he could do nothing but smile and nod along. What must happen will happen, he said to himself as he shifted his gaze to the burning wreckage of the carrier below him. In the instant, he thought about the hubris of mankind and the courage of youth. The idea that one may feel totally invincible and all powerful so long as they didn't feel the strain of age. He only wished that he could give them more... More of that vainglory, more power, better reactions. He didn't want them to ever feel the sting of defeat, or the potential of death that he had.
You are my Sunshine... My only Sunshine... You make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know, Dears, how much I love you. So, please don't take my Sunshine away.
The nursery rhyme echoed in his head. Involuntarily, a tear fell from his left eye and dripped down his bearded cheek to disappear in the mass of gray hair. Many of them were quick to forget that all he had left was them. Overprotective, sure... But not without reason. Losing even one of the precious chicks was a dagger to the soul.

"Keep moving. Crow's alone. Move to support. Watch the skies."

Shrike's voice on his personal comms broke his concentration slightly. Typical Crow, always where you'd least expect her to be.
"Roger Shrike. I'm coming down to you now, Crow. Hopefully I grabbed their attention, I'll try and pull some heat out of the sky on the way: Kill anything on my tail!"
He tapped his break jets, impacting the ground with force enough to make a small crater. His seat compensated, gyroscopes keeping him level inside the core and preventing any strong rattling from unseating him. The Shell's systems reacted in kind to hitting the ground, the massive hydraulic legs releasing their payload instantly and sending him flying forward again like a giant bunny rabbit to hop along the ground at incredibly high speeds en route toward Carrion Crow's location.

---

---

“Don’t need anyone to watch my ass, you two.” Crow rolled her eyes. It was something she rarely said without meaning it, but if the boys were committed to it, there wasn’t much else she could say. She engaged her Overboost module, another loud boom sounding throughout the battlefield as she zoomed along the side of the cliff. After a few seconds, she turned it off, letting her machine crash into the waves while it recharged. She took a moment to study her sensors. She could still see the fighters, and the drones, and her teammates. Her feed from Gizzard’s guitar provided another source of intel, even if she wasn’t positioned to take advantage of it just yet. Crow’s opening had no doubt pissed off the opposition, but the rest of the team was posing way too much of a threat for them to pursue her. And with the fighters going scorched earth, that left less missiles to turn on her…

”Kill anything on my tail!"

“Yup…” Crow said slowly. “Gimme a second.” She waited for a few agonizing moments, listening to the explosions cut through the forest…

Yeah, now’s good.

Her Shell sprung its legs out and leapt dozens of meters into the air, easily clearing the cliff as her boosters kept her afloat. She raised her rifle, and fired, calling one shot on each of the fighters chasing down Barn Owl.

“One…” A bullet crashed straight through the fuselage, turning a fighter into a fireball.

“Two…” A wing shattered into fragments, sending another careening into the dirt.

“Three…” A particularly gruesome hit straight to the cockpit.

“Bingo.” The bullet only lightly grazed one of the engines, but that was still enough to send it out of control. “That’s four confirmed down.” As maneuverable as they were, your average fighter might as well be made out of tinfoil once the big guns came out, and no amount of chaff or fancy maneuvering was going to dodge good old fashioned ballistics paired with a high end targeting system. Crow watched as Barn Owl’s shell zoomed towards her position. With him safe, she turned her focus towards the rest of the aircraft, plucking away at them one by one while none of them had the bright idea to rush her down.

“You got a plan now that you’re here, Barn?” CROW-III descended back down behind the cliff to reload.

---

---

At this point, a good chunk of the rainforest that provided them with cover was on fire. It was not an immediate danger to the Shells, like the drones and the fighters, but eventually, that would be a huge problem if they didn't wrap this up soon. Magpie liked not getting ripped to shreds by fighters. She kept boosting as a few fighters were on her tail and eventually hopped over a charred piece of debris from a destroyed Airship. It was large enough to accommodate her minimal-sized Shell, and she quickly reactivated the claw and unleashed another barrage of missiles and created fireworks as they brightly exploded.

It was enough to give Magpie some time to get her bearings. Crow and Barn Owl were taking on the other fighters, and Magpie was tempted to provide support.... then Kingfisher dropped his damn weapon. Magpie rolled her eyes, wondered if this was his first fight, and saw Ossifrage leave cover to provide support....

Her sensors alerted her towards the downed cargo carrier, and she turned her head towards it to see a massive blue beam come out of the craft... and it hit Ossifrage head-on. It cleaved through the core of her shell, and she was launched backward and hit the ground with a thud. That hit incinerated the cockpit, and Magpie's sensors detected that her pilot was now deceased.

"Aaxie!" Magpie shouted.

"... Ossifrage-80 down. The good news is that you all will get her share of the payment for this mission. Searching for a replacement..." Ava finally chimed in with her dull monotone. "... Replacement found."

Magpie resisted the urge to curse Ava out as a Shell wielding a massive weapon leaped out of the Shell. It blasted its colossal beam into the treeline, trying to destroy as much of the cover the Vultures used as possible. A barrage of tiny missiles exploded from its shoulders, creating a white fireworks-like effect and spreading a targeting scrambling that interfered with Magpie's (and the others') FSC systems.

"Now, Vultures, I will be more hands-on since letting you all... out of your cage... has proven to be ineffectual. That is the Ushi-oni Model of Autonomous Murakumo Shells. They likely have other Shells within the carrier, but remember, this is simply a stalling tactic while they wait for reinforcements to arrive... I will ensure that they only find the aftermath of our handiwork. It's going to be difficult to handle this and the fighters, but the good news is that you have me here."

Magpie could just feel Ava placing her fingers together.

"Shrike, support Ijsvogel so he can get his weapon back; together, the two of you will destroy the remaining Shells before they activate. Crow and Barn Owl draw its attention and keep on the move. Magpie, cover them and make sure any fighters that get any bright ideas... don't get any. While that happens, I want Gizzard and Hachidori to rip the thing to shreds with their weapons. Copy?"

Magpie shook her head from within her Shell and begrudgingly said,

"Copy."

@DragKing Gizzard

Hachidori was on the other side of the beach, taking cover from the fighters above under a long destroyed shell. He could bid his time. He kept track of what his teammates were doing. More and more fighters and drones were being taken out. The ones hovering above were shot down, giving him a chance to escape. Some of the crew were in the rainforest beside the beach. It wouldn't be good for him to be isolated from the rest of the group. He could handle himself, but strength in numbers.

A large blue beam shot out of the forest followed by an explosion. A large swathe of trees were destroyed, giving him a view of the shell that did it. An alert popped up on his screen just as Ava came through the comms. "Ossifrage-80 down." Telling him what the reading said. He's too new to feel anything other than general sadness for losing a teammate. There would be time to mourn after the mission. He had orders he needed to follow.

"...I want Gizzard and Hachidori to rip the thing to shreds with their weapons. Copy?" Ava said.

"Copy that," he replied.

He didn't run right at it. He figured hitting it from behind would be much better.

"Gizzard, let's hit it at the same time. I'm going at it from behind. Over," he said. He skirted around the damaged the trees, heading for the lush ones instead. He kept low and took it one step at a time. He didn't want to alert its attention, before Gizzard was ready. No doubt all of them showed up on its scanners, but the closest would be prioritized. He needed to hit it fast and hard with no time to react when the moment was right.