~Lamar IV, Glacial Valley~

The cacophony of battle slowly coalesced into a musical melody that even the greatest of the classics couldn't match in Ulrik's opinion. As the brilliant blue and green rays of light filled his vision and explosions began to shake the ground beneath the feet of his 55 ton 'mech, he truly felt at home.

He pressed his thumb to the button on his joystick, and a blue beam cut across the battlefield, turning the turret of a J.Edgar into molten slag as the vehicle came to a sudden halt. Like little fireworks, the SRM-2 ammo began to cook off in the remains of the turret one-by-one, and the hatches on the hull flipped open as the crew began a hurried dismount from their doomed vehicle. It showed their desperation that they threw themselves on the muddy ground, and tried to crawl through the lines of fire from both friendlies and opposing forces. Then again, Ulrik understood: seconds later the J.Edgar exploded in a brilliant flash of light as the rest of the ammo exploded at once, and it painted the landscape in a brilliant orange light before sending the disfigured remains of the turret at least 60 feet in the air, and kicked up a dust cloud at least twice as tall in the forgiving gravity of the moon.

A similar explosion rocked the canyon as Jaromir's laser found it's mark and detonated the Thumper's ammunition reserves, detonating it with such force that the shockwave threw up a cloud of dust and snow that managed to obscure even his view from the cockpit, and stuck to his armored glass as an off-white gunk until it started to melt in the heat of laser fire. "Great." He acknowledged with the grumpiness of an apathetic veteran, and then let loose another volley of laser fire at the nearest goblin, this time leashing both his medium and large lasers. Missing it's center by just a foot, the shot nevertheless melted the links of the track together and managed to throw it completely off in the process. The Goblin came to a sudden and violent halt, it's guns falling silent as the rattled crew inside tried to regain their senses.

Beep.

Just a heat warning, surely. The cockpit of a BattleMech was always loud with mechanical whirring and electronic beeps in the heat of combat.

Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeep. "Incoming Long Range Fire"

That was definitely not a heat warning. Turning his attention to the sky, he managed to notice the bright orange streaks right as they reached the apex of their trajectory, and then violently adjusted course towards his 'mech. He loved the Centurion for it's rugged design and decent firepower for a Medium of it's size, but it's sluggish nature was a curse that he would carry with himself to the grave. Janking his joystick to the left, his feet pressed into the pedals like he was going to push them out of the cockpit, and he got the Centurion to change it's stride just in time for the LRM salvo to strike into the shielded right arm of his 'mech instead of his vulnerable cockpit.

He wasn't going to die today, not yet anyways. But he'd need a fresh coat of paint now that half a dozen charred impact marks covered the dented armor of his Centurion's right arm. Using the time between reloads of whatever carried the LRM to break line of sight with as many of the enemy units as possible, Ulrik examined his displays: the enemy mech pings from before had gotten closer, and with the help of the Ankhanne's own sensors, he finally had a good read on them.

"Hostile Light lance inbound from the East! They're pedaling fast, ETA 1 minute or less!" Aligning himself with the eastern wall to give even less of a shot for the approaching mechs, he stepped over the remains of a burnt-out Goblin that one of his Mechwarriors had taken care of previously, and continued the steady advance up the sloped glacier whilst keeping his eyes on the sensor. "Got confirmation from the Ankhanne. Two of them are Locusts, and one of them is a Jenner. Last one is unidentified, but the LRM fire suggests it's a Javelin variant. Run down these tanks, then focus fire on these new contacts: Zohra, stay on the west flank, just in case we get surprises. Overkill, Jaromir, join Karel and reinforce the flanks. Keep fast, that Javelin shouldn't have too much ammunition left." With that Ulrik let loose another salvo of laser fire, cutting a neat hole into the side of the goblin he had previously immobilised, leaving the incinerated hulk to spew fire and thick black smoke into the atmosphere as he kept his eyes peeled on the ridgeline: any second now, their right flank would meet the enemies, and he was much more worried about those mechs than the few remaining J.Edgars that still tried to put a dent in their ranks, but had a hard time hitting the mobile lance with their SRM-2s. Then, before long, the first beam of bright green laser cut across the dark sky and illuminated the glistening snow, and the head of the first Locust appeared as it ran full speed towards Karel's Mongoose, the rest of it's lance not far behind.

---

One Hex is considered 30 meters, I gave distance in hexes to make it easy to see weapon distance on SARNA. Don't apply modifiers to hit or damage based on range, only check if you are in range or not. If you aren't in range, as long as you can move enough hexes in a turn to close the gap you can fire at the target. If you need that figured out, the formula is pretty simple:

Hex (Speed) = KPH / 10.8

Post your rolls for shooting at the end of your post, feel free to use the site's own rolltable function. Don't worry about tracking heat, everyone here is basically an MWO veteran running Override

Rest are in the pinned comment on Discord.

@Letter Bee@Psyker Landshark@Forsythe@AndyC@Smike@Abstract Proxy@QJT@Starlance

"Oh come on!" Remy grumbled as the "covering fire" he had asked for ended up destroying the Thumper battery before he could close in on it. Between most of the infantry scattering before his Firestarter could do what it was built to do, and the Trebuchet stealing his kill before he could get in range, Overkill found himself reminded why he generally hated driving anything lighter than 60 tons. As it was, "Murder One" was starting to look like it would be the name of his kill count on this outing.

While he was in the middle of stewing in his frustration, the call came out from their Commander: a lance of enemy 'Mechs inbound. Remy frowned as he heard the names of the 'Mechs approaching. The Locusts by themselves weren't much of an issue; the only trouble they might be was that their speed and nimbleness made them hard to hit. The Javelin had the potential to be mean, but that LRM-15 would lose most of its effectiveness if they closed in.

The Jenner, on the other hand, could be a problem. With a monster engine, it was slower than the Locusts, but only by a little, and its jump jets made it even more agile. Worse, while the Locust only carried one or two medium lasers, the Jenner carried four, not to mention a four-pack of SRMs, which let it hit well above its weight. If they didn't neutralize it quickly, that thing could do some major damage.

"Hell, maybe I'll get to party after all," Overkill said, his frown turning into a sneer. With a parting burst of machine gun fire into the remaining handful of survivors from the Thumper crew, Remy turned the Firestarter around and opened up the throttle to close back in with the formation. Carefully feathering his jump jets to keep the occasional misstep from wrecking his Mech's legs, he reached the bottom of the cliff in relatively short order, reaching the firing line just as the enemy Mech Lance came into range.

"All right, you pirate slap-nuts," he called out on an open comm channel, "Let's friggin' mosh!"

Breaking into a dead sprint, Overkill felt the heat buildup in his Mech already as he looked for his dance partner, the incoming Jenner. As he closed in, the enemy Mech let loose with a salvo of Laser and SRM fire. One of the incoming Lasers went wide, but the other caught his Firestarter on the right side of his Torso. Before Remy could register the damage, he felt himself thrown hard against the restraints of his command couch, and his world went white for a moment. Remy regained his senses to see that one of the Jenner's Short-Range Missiles had struck him in the head, and another had made contact with his right leg, the other two pockmarking the ground behind him.

"Sonofabitch," he growled, tasting blood in his mouth. "Now it's my turn; hope you like it hot!"

Remy let loose with nearly a full Alpha Strike, opening up with both of his Lasers and all four of his Purity L-Series Flamers. One of the Lasers dug a small trench of molten earth into the hill behind the Jenner, but the other hit it square in the torso. The Flamers, on the other hand, did virtually no damage to the enemy Mech's armor, but were instead meant to spike its Heat sharply. Heat was one of a Mechwarrior's worst enemies, with an overheating Mech prone to slowing down and having trouble targeting as its myomer muscles seized up. At intense enough heat levels, a Mech risked its reactor shutting down, or worse, its ammunition cooking off. While the Firestarter was outgunned by the Jenner, he could severely cripple its ability to fight.

As the gouts of superheated plasma dispersed, Remy grinned when he saw the enemy Jenner glowing from the excess heat.

"That's right, Feel the Fire, you shit," he snarled, spitting out a wad of blood from the internal injury that stray head-shot had caused. "Feel the fuckin' fire."

---

The Locust guy’s transmission tugged at his ears. Clearly not a military guy, talked way too much on air. The Capellan guy, Jaromir, sounded much better. Crisp, to the point, keeping the air clear. Same with the other two former soldiers, Zohra and Fuka, as expected, the latter already tanking damage with her face like a good heavy. Firestarter guy sounded exactly the way he looked, but seemed professional enough. Live this long in this line of work, you get a pass to limit the amount of fucks at your disposal. This might not be a shitshow. Pleasant surprises.

On the note of surprises, a medium laser across his cockpit went straight into the ‘Not pleasant’ category, but tolerable. Not ‘My armor is evaporating.’ unpleasant. ”Pirate ‘Mechs ahoy!” He grinned over the radio. While he’d love to think the other guy was a good sport and was giving him a warning shot, the chances of that were pretty low and thinking that either Karel was hard to hit or the other guy was inept was just as good. Still, shooting at him was a sin that couldn’t be forgiven, and Karel turned to engage the closest Locust, the 1V, assuming that was the culprit. He briefly considered slowing to a walk, which would allow him to be heat-neutral even while firing all three medium lasers, but not getting hit was even better. He lined up the crosshairs and pulled the trigger of his medium lasers.

The first shot went wide.

The second went low.

The third hit… a rock Karel that didn’t notice before as the Locust passed behind it.

”Jebat křečka!” He roared at the top of his lungs, leaning against a pedal with all his weight and hauling the Mongoose around in anticipation of returning fire, kicking up a cloud of snow and ice as the feet tore into it to redirect the momentum of 25 tons of war machine moving at highway speeds. He didn’t need be that rought with the controls of course, but every MechWarrior knew that the harder you pulled a trigger or pushed the controls, the more damage the guns did and the harder the ‘Mech turned. Fact. Out of pure, pig-headed spite, heat be damned, Karel turned the torso back toward the 1V and fired his small laser.

By now the swearing must’ve been heard outside of the ‘Mech as the small laser’s beam viciously assaulted empty space near the enemy ‘Mech, the thought of the 1V missing him as well being only a small comfort given the vast gap in volume of fire between the two machines. Maybe he should’ve hit up the sims and learned how the new ‘Mech handled instead of bumming around the ship, but everyone’s a General after the battle is fought and hindsight is always 20/20.

She had paused her assault only to communicate with the lance leader, allowing the crew of the crippled Goblin a few extra seconds of panic before she unloaded the rest of her ire into them. A short burst from the autocannon hammered the tank's hull, blasting open the armor and obliterating the poor bastards inside as the ammunition cooked off.

The resulting corona of flame and fuel spray made Fuka snicker, just another firework among the glorious display. The little vehicles were nothing but a distraction, fun to play with but unremarkable save for their age. The real challenge would be the rival mechs! Fuka craved the rush that came with testing herself against her fellow pilots, and she knew she would get her chance when Ulrik ate a series of missiles.

"Finally!" she crowed in answer to Dash, throwing up dust as she stomped the valley floor. "Let's shred the bastards."

He was actually a step ahead of her, already facing off against one of the little Locusts as Fuka scrambled to reposition. The blasts of laser fire were blinding and beautiful in equal measure, but they were off-target. A poor start, but now wasn't the time to be giving critiques.

She would show by doing.

The autocannon swung up as the samurai locked in on the 1V, Fuka leading her target before squeezing the trigger. There was the satisfying ker-chunk of the autoloader and the jolt of a shell being launched, the autocannon shot splashing squarely against the 1V's right arm. Immediately she followed up with a beam from her medium laser, the bolt of blue slicing through the now weakened plating and into the sensitive equipment hidden underneath.

The Locust wasn't built to stand up to that sort of punishment, and as it stumbled to try and escape the crossfire its arm was simply sheared open, the machine gun hanging limply from the rest of the frame. Fuka had drawn its attention from her lightly armored comrade, and in doing so she had almost certainly left herself open for return fire, but no matter.

It was her job to look big and mean and shootable, if the enemy was targeting her then that meant things were going well.

Something was glowing off in the distance, a brief glance at the scanners telling her that the Firestarter was embroiled in a struggle of its own.

"Alvin, help the pyro out!"

Alvin Davion

Alvin knew that Remy needed help, and Fuka's command only sealed his decision to go and back up the Firestarter. Reviewing the weapons he had, he decided that he needed to focus on his longest-ranged armament, the Laser, and thus aimed it at the Jenner giving Remy problems, moving forward to the edge of the valley before firing the beam and just barely missing the foe, but he noticed that the Center Torso had already been pre-seared by Remy and his Firestarter. Good; time to press on for the kill.

Staying within sight of his comrades, Alvin fired his autocannon next, perforating the area he had already hit with swift bullets that ought to turn the enemy Mech into Swiss cheese, even as he thought, I should begin evasive maneuvers soon, so no time for a third shot - Besides, I don't like my flamer anyway.

Alvin despised the concept of burning humans to death, not just because it was cruel, but also because he hated the idea of burning flesh beyond repair, heck, he hated the idea that anything could be beyond repair or even use. So he used the time he could be using to use his flamer to check the situation; were they winning? Or was the enemy providing more resistance than expected?

And there was the kicker. A light lance, coming in hot from the east. Thankfully, the commander had the presence of mind to take most of the LRM barrage on his Centurion's shield arm. Judging by the tac read out, it had to have been the Javelin that fired it. While the boss was right in that it shouldn't have too many barrages left, another round of LRM fire would be trouble.

Even as Jaromir manuevered his Trebuchet towards his newly assigned position, he kept an eye on the field to see who was engaging what. The Jenner and the Locusts were being engaged, with the former in question getting cooked. Problem was that all three of those were a bit too close in range for either of his main guns to be effective. Fine, he'd deal with the LRM launcher, then. Jaromir sighted the Javelin in question a good ways across the field. A bit far for the armaments on most of his lance's guns, but just comfortably within medium range for his PPC and autocannon.

Drawing a bead on the enemy Mech meant leaving the relative cover of the valley, and Jaromir had his Trenchbucket step out with some reluctance on his part. Hopefully, the others were dealing with the three remaining mechs enough that the Locusts wouldn't get on his ass. Still, he sighted up the Right Torso specifically on the opposing JVN-10A where the LRM launcher was mounted and fired his primary salvo, hoping to get lucky and either disable the launcher itself or cook its ammo. His autocannon fire missed, but the PPC shot hit right on target.

"Handling the Javelin, we got the Locusts under control yet?" He asked over comms, waiting for his weapons to cool and reload so he could fire again.

PPC against JVN-10A, Right Torso
AC/5 against JVN-10A, Miss

While calculating his plan of action, Sulser wondered why he was so frequently omitted from the overarching strategy, his pleas to engage so flippantly dismissed. The humbling firepower that spewed forth during his minute's musing and the visual reminder that his comrades literally towered above him quickly settled his questions.

Nonetheless, it rendered him redundant. Fuka provided ample distraction. Overkill and Alvin spearheaded the rear charge. Jaromir suppressed the vanguard. Karel's inaccuracy humored the crowd. Sir Commander coordinated from distance. And Hamazasp... was there too.

Then again, irrelevance had its benefits. His vehicle bore no pockmarks as of yet; neither his foes nor his friends expected much from his craft. By the time his calculations concluded, Zhu hailed over the comms.

"Near bogey affirmative; far Locust untouched," he replied casually. A shiny new target tempted the dairy farmer, but he understood the difference between three enemies and four. He reached for his medium laser button... which one was it? A stray thought reminded him of sparring practice with Nakano. Get in their personal space, and their fluster will prevent a reaction. Doubly so with his adversary reeling from previous batterings. Triply so as a practical ghost on the battlefield, appearing from a blind spot. It was certainly a better chance than an unskilled lout had at aiming his energy device.

"Engaging ramming maneuvers," he reported, his lack of coordination disabling his capacity for weaponry as he adjusted to face the LCT-1V. His thrusters at maximum, he bade his 'Mech push forward. He lowered his vehicle's head, the rush of combat forcing him to smile. The first shrapnel grazed his hull quite too late to stop him.

Impact. A right good hit, at that. Largely by accident, he'd found the perfect angle to sheer the Locust's left arm from its nub. As the Ayrshire reeled back, the Taurian switched gears from movement to armaments. He knew where the machine gun controls were, and he slammed bullets where his cockpit once imprinted. The mirror reflection of his potential demise discomforted but didn't unnerve him. He now possessed a close quarters weapons advantage to his doppelganger: two to nothing. With any luck, the enemy's response would be minimal. Of course, skirmishes rarely bless the humble soldier with such fortunes.

Dutifully remaining on the west flank, keeping a constant tab on her radar. Zohra knew that recon was not enough. She could hear the sounds of fighting unfolding to the east of her and she did not miss the comms darting between her lancemates. Every BattleMech, every ton of armor, and every weapon counted. She had no intention of being a distant observer. She was in range and chose to act, to do something useful.

Picking an unengaged target, a slippery enemy that could easily cause great damage if left unattended, Zohra targeted the fresh pirate LCT-1E that was barreling towards her lance and without knowing it straight at her. She hoped to at least distract the pirate pilot. Lining up a shot as she kept her RVN-2X moving, Zohra pulled the trigger watching as the enemy Locust spoiled what would have been a hit with a sudden juke to the left. If it was intentional, it had been expertly timed, but she doubted the enemy Locust was paying much attention to her. Matching the enemy BattleMech's direction of movement and speed as well as she could, Zohra selected her medium lasers and drew a deep breath as she gently squeezed the trigger on her joystick.

Scarlet beams cut through the air, burning ozone and then metal as they cut into the right leg of the locust, leaving slags of metal as the armor was melted off. Puffs of black smoke appeared over the leg as internal parts were reduced to ash in a shower of sparks. Seeing her weapons hit to good effect, Zohra resisted the urge to shout with joy, deeming it highly unprofessional, and instead let loose with her missile rack. The range was long, but not impossible, and she had no interest in letting the moment or Locust escape her. The missiles leaped from their launchers with a sudden whoosh, leaving white smoke that faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. The trajectory looked good, the loft seemed adequate, and Zohra smiled to herself as the missiles slammed into the Locust in a burst of explosions.

The nimble, but lightly armored Locust shuddered from the damage, taking a desperate stumbling step as it attempted to right itself, and then crashing into the ground, the gyro proving unable to compensate for the impacts rattled the diminutive BattleMech.

"Heavy damage inflicted on previously unengaged LCT-1E, no new contacts on West flank," Zohra said quickly over the comms, keeping a careful scan on her radar and the horizon as she kept her BattleMech moving.

~Lamar IV, Glacial Valley~

Just as quick as the enemy lance appeared, a brilliant symphony of laser and autocannon fire erupted from his own lines, and sent a warm welcome towards the hostile mechs. He knew they must've been surprised, because one of the Locusts barely managed to fire off a burst of laser fire that tore up the dirt in front of his own mech before a friendly volley turned a good chunk of its right leg into slag. With a mighty mechanical scream the Locust's leg crumpled under itself, and the machine tumbled mid-gait, falling on the ground and kicking up an enormous dust cloud as it proceeded to slide for a good 30 meters before coming to a halt on the ground. A flash of green laser fire erupted from its guns in defiance, whizzing off harmlessly into the air, and the small machine shuddered as the pilot tried to wrangle with the controls to get their mech up and running again. As the Locust pilots so often say: speed is life. And right now, this Locust had none.

With the Javelin still out of sight for him, and the other Locust receiving several barrages from the long-range weapons of his Lance that tore off both its arms, he now turned his attention to the greatest threat on the battlefield: the Jenner, already engaged in a deadly melee with their own Firestarter. The enemy mech glowed a soft orange hue as Overkill's flamers and its own return volley spiked the heat, the fast gait of the mech noticeably slowed down as the heatsinks desperately tried to cool the myomer bundles and other internals.

Slow and preoccupied: the perfect target.

There was a loud crash in the air as Ulrik pulled the trigger, and his Large Laser crackled to life, the sudden discharge of so much energy vaporizing the thin atmosphere in a brilliant flash of light. The right torso of the enemy Jenner lit up in a shower of sparks as the laser dug deep and turned the armor into molten slag within a second. He always adored the large laser, much more than the AC/5 that it replaced. With this one burst the cockpit already felt like the bathrooma after a warm shower, and it was only going to get worse. Not wanting to be a sitting duck in an already cumbersome mech if he fired an alpha strike, Ulrik decided that a salvo of LRM fire would surely scare off the pesky light if it managed to strike something important. With another squeeze of the trigger he let loose a salvo of brilliant orange lights, dancing in the air like fireflies on a moonlit night, before they disappeared in a flourish of brilliant explosions as they impacted the Jenner's hull. The majority of the missiles managed to strike their target, but the fresh puff of smoke obscured Ulrik's vision from seeing what damage they actually caused.

BANG

In an instant dust and smoke was blown in all cardinal directions as the Jenner exploded violently and sent a shockwave through the thin atmosphere that buffeted even his own 55 ton centurion, pieces of metal and other debris sent flying through the air across the battlefield. Only a smoking husk remained of the Jenner after the LRM salvo tore into the exposed structure of the mech, tearing it apart with the help of the Jenner's own SRM ammo exploding. A spectacular show, one that surprised even Ulrik as he marveled at the rising cloud of dust over the battlefield. A few moments later as the moment faded, he'd look at the Firestarter now covered in a thick layer of dust and scraped with thousands of tiny shrapnel from standing in the proximity of the explosion. At least there wasn't a risk of the Jenner's salvo cutting short the life of one of his fighters in the first engagement. "One mech down, focus fire on the mechs that can still walk." He hesitated for a moment, and then continued as he throttled up on the Centurion and continued advancing towards the primary facility, his sensors scouring the horizon. "If they rout, regroup on me. I'm picking up additional sensor traces from the facility, moving up to get a better reading."

As skeptical as he was just an hour ago of his pilot's capabilities, he now felt much more confident that they could take on a pirate scout lance. Though some of them struggled to hit their targets, nobody hesitated even for a moment and focused their fire effectively. He even caught a glimpse of a glorious ramming action as their friendly Locust slammed into the enemy LCT-1V. Maybe a little but foolish, but certainly brave, it certainly rattled the enemy.

With one enemy mech already down, and another one trying to stand up, the enemy had been cut down to half strength in just the span of a minute. The now armless Locust saw the writing on the wall and decided it wasn't going to stick around any longer, and with some fancy footwork it disengaged from the melee with Hamazasp, but not before scorching his mech's Center Torso with a burst of its sole Medium Laser. Good riddance.

Beep. Beep. "Incoming Long Range Fire"

This time the missiles from the Javelin weren't aimed at him, but that didn't make them any less dangerous. With no cover to speak of, seconds passed with breath held back to see where they would strike, before a series of explosions peppered Jaromir's Trebuchet. It buffeted the mech, as a little over half the salvo managed to connect with their sharpshooter's mech. Not enough to eat through the armor, but enough that it would surely need some time in the bay once they got back. "Damnit... Overkill, Karel, take out that Javelin, or make it run away. If that salvo hits a Light mech, we risk losing a few arms."

They might've made easy work of this first lance, but the pirates surely had more than a handful of antique tanks and a lance of light mechs. If that Javelin managed to escape, it could pepper them with long range fire whilst they are fighting the main garrison force of the enemy compound, and that was something Ulrik really didn't like the idea of.

---

The 1V Locust is running away, if it isn't killed this turn it will leave combat. The 1E Locust is currently on the ground, it cannot move until the start of next turn, so its easy to hit. No other rules for this, just make sure to shoot them good. JVN-10A is still in combat and not fleeing (yet), so expect to get another volley unless you manage to disarm it.

Hamazasp took 5 damage in the Center Torso from the Medium Laser, and Jaromir took 5 damage and 4 damage to Right Torso and Right Arm respectively from the LRM-15 salvo of the JVN-10A.

I updated the distance part of the table, now the first number is for the light mechs who fought on the ridge, and the second number is for everyone who remained in the valley with Ulrik.



@Letter Bee@Psyker Landshark@Forsythe@AndyC@Smike@Abstract Proxy@QJT@Starlance

”On him, someone take over this One Victor.” Karel acknowledged Ulrik’s order before addressing Remy, not at all thrilled by the thought of letting any of these goons escape. ”Let’s squeeze that missile raft, old timer. Go from his left, I’ll take the right.” Calling something this small a missile ‘boat’ never felt right. Noting the explosion that signaled the Jenner’s end, he swerved to avoid what looked like a flying piece of a leg the ammo detonation launched his way. He briefly considered taking a shot at the downed 1E with his small laser, but he had to watch his heat by now lest the myomer start protesting too much. Making sure he didn’t overextend himself by outrunning Overkill or lag behind and leave him far too forward, he could almost imagine what the Javelin guy’s underwear would look like when the duo crested the rise he was hiding behind.

As soon as his cockpit popped up over the terrain, Karel immediately locked onto the goofy-looking machine, its appearance not helped by either the wannabe badass paint job nor what Jaromir’s PPC did to it. Noting the extent of the damage to its right torso, his ‘Mech confirming the innards were exposed, Karel snapped the crosshair onto the damaged section and fired all three medium lasers. An ammo or launcher hit would take care of that 30 ton problem nicely.

At the same time, the Javelin pilot noticed him and threw him a curveball, throwing the light ‘Mech to one side so hard it looked like it was going to topple over while accelerating before catching the fall with a turn, all three of Karel’s lasers scything through the snow behind where the rapidly accelerating Javelin was standing just a second earlier. It would seem like the biggest weapon in the pirates’ arsenal was making Karel look stupid. ”Very well, squirelly bastard, be that way…” Karel muttered under his breath as he continued closing the distance, adjusting his approach to better herd the pirate toward Overkill. He briefly considered ramming, but there was no point damaging his own machine, particularly since spare parts would be hard to come by. He wasn’t that mad. Yet.

Jaromir grit his teeth in annoyance as the LRM barrage rocked his Trebuchet, his gaze briefly shifting to check the damage readouts. Nothing breached, but another good barrage like that would definitely be a problem. Of course his live ammo had to be stored where he'd taken damage, because the god damn Dracs who overhauled this thing didn't think to do anything sensible like putting the autocannon rounds and missiles into the fucking legs like any sane Mechwarrior would want.

"Damage sustained, returning fire on the Javelin." His frustration didn't carry over to his comms discipline, already sighting the Javelin as his weapons finished cooling down. Time to finish the job. Again, he zoomed in on his neurohelmet's sights. As the opposing mech juked Karel's Medium Lasers, Jaromir lined his shot up for the right torso again. This time, both the PPC and the AC/5 scored a direct impact against the Javelin. Combined with the damage it had already taken, the Trebuchet's fire ripped through the enemy Mech, taking it out of the fight entirely.

That amount of damage likely meant there wasn't any salvage left. Too bad. Though at this point, that was entirely his fault. Still, having his own ass take fire was one way for Jaromir to discard the thought of anything else besides how to most efficiently mission kill a Mech.

"Good hit, good hit! Javelin KIA." He reported, briefly scanning over his radar to keep an eye on the wider battle. "How're we on the Locusts? Try to leg them or go for headcaps if we want salvage, yeah?"

Alvin Davion



Alvin fired at the Locust he and Remy had already brought down, seeing that it was an easy target, though still dangerous. He did not want to leave the pirate to his fellow pilot's tender mercies, so he followed Jaromir's suggestion and chose to target the cockpit of the fallen Mech, turning it into Swiss cheese, and then melting the remains. Then he said in a melancholy voice, "May whatever God you worship have mercy on your soul, Pirate. Or if you had gone too far in your quest to survive, may the trip to hell at least be quick."

He then said to Remy, "Are you all right, Pyro? Fucker - I mean Fuka - sent me to help. So, can you bring down the routing Locust with your Lasers, or would you like us to finally get out of this valley and press on to the enemy base? Best to press our advantage; even I know that much."

I have new comrades; best to actually pull my weight, he thought bitterly as he said to Jaromir, "Oi, I think we have salvage too! Just helped out Pyro, by the way - letting him or the others have the Locust that ran off."

On instinct, he had the Hermes-II's legs run towards Jaromir, following up his words to the Ex-Capellan (he himself was not an Ex-Davion as this merc career was meant to be temporary), "So, do you think the Pirates have one more Lance, or is this all they've got?"

He knew that the Ex-Capellan didn't like him much; Fuka had probably whispered poison into his ear. That, and the FedSuns didn't like the Capellans much because the Capellans were just plain worse than they were; that prejudice was grounded in fact, but that didn't stop the Capellans from hating back. So all Alvin could say was, "The enemy base. If our Captain gives permission, want to storm it together along with the Pyro?"

A peace offering, no matter how meaningless - Nothing like blasting pirates to bring people from different origins together, which was what Ulrik intended, right?

If so, thank him and fuck himself for not taking that opportunity earlier.

The emphatic clang of metal, the heavy rattle and soft vibration of automatic weaponry horrified the amateur when combined with the fear of death. As his adversary turned around and signaled its withdrawal, though, trepidation was washed away, leaving only the ecstasy of carnal pleasure. Having minimal combat experience, Hamazasp was swept up by the fervor of battle. “You ought not to flee, you daft doppelganger! You cannot escape my wrath! Oh, shoot, apologies. I had comms on. Pursuing bogey. Muting self.

“There. DIE, you foul creature! Cowardice reflects poorly on me, you overgrown bug! You shame all Locust pilots! I won’t have you sully my reputation!” He recommenced movement functions and avidly pursued his quarry, matching both velocity and his opponent’s footsteps. His mechanical noggin lowered, and Sulser gazed upwards to maintain a steady direction, his jaw slightly agape in a smile.

Pioneering the course for the two of them, the limbless foe needed to ensure that each footfall was accurate. One misstep meant contact. Alas, it stubbed its toe against a sizable boulder on the terrain. The Ayrshire pounced onto its counterpart, shuddering upon impact. A more rational Hamazasp would pity the grunt in the cockpit, and perhaps a later Hamazasp might say a brief prayer over supper. Overwhelmed by pure euphoria, the current Hamazasp could merely laugh maniacally, not from schadenfreude but simply from punching armor clean through the engine compartment. He didn’t even need to fire his machine guns, not that he remembered to do so.

He felt the urge to locate an object and throw it. He reached to the side and slid out a rectangular prism. He peered into its rustic cover. Oh. This was a printing of My Life as a War Correspondent, by Mercer Thomlinson. An autographed copy, in fact. How lovely. He replaced it, making certain to preserve alphabetical order within the ensemble. Books would keep him sane. He reactivated communications. “My target is incapacitated. Further orders?”

Either Fuka was off her game or her comrades were simply faster than her, and she hadn't yet decided which was preferable for her pride. She had managed to knock the arm off one of the little flyweight bastards but had yet to actually splatter a cockpit, and what fun was piecemealing a mech if you didn't get the kill? Disabling the enemy was necessary but not as enjoyable as getting the final tap, the veggies before the proverbial desert.

Fuka grumbled to herself in consternation, fingers tapping against the joystick as Sulser crowed about his achievement. She had been hoping for more from her first foray into piloting for hire, and her flighty nature made it hard to remember that she existed more for drawing attention than for snagging kills.

"He just said to regroup," Fuka stated simply, shuffling the Dragon towards their commanding officer. "So probably do that."

So far everyone was still alive, but there had been a few good knocks. Unfortunately, those hit included herself and Jaromir, two of the more experienced pilots, as opposed to someone less valuable like Alvin or the babbling rookie. Hopefully, the local yokels didn't have too much more in the tank, or were willing to be less discerning in their target selection.

"Let me pull up front once we get going. The Dragon can get battered a bit more before I have to worry."

Shots rang out all around Ulrik, the organized chaos of the battle unfolding in the blink of an eye. One lucky shot after the next, the ragged lance of light mechs that came to greet them stood no chance against the firepower of their small, but otherwise swift lance. With the Thumper and Javelin out of the equation, indirect fire was no longer a threat to them or the Ankhanne, and neither would they turn any of his new pilots into a fine pink mist with a lucky salvo. So far so good.

Leaning forward in his seat, Ulrik pressed his Centurion forward as he began to gather speed on the 55 ton brawler, taking steady steps through the labyrinth of burnt out husks that remained of the enemy tanks. They should've known better that to send vehicles out into a narrow shooting gallery against almost two lance's worth of mechs, whatever the weight class. Chances are, the enemy wasn't expecting a rustbucket dropship like theirs to unload 'Mechs, much less any force they couldn't deal with. But now that the gunfire had died down and only the crackling of ammunition fires remained on the battlefield to cover up the sound of their Mech's mechanical thumping, it was evident that the enemy severely underestimated their firepower. Any infantry that remained after Remy's stunt had either fled already or curled up under their thermal blankets and probably hoped they wouldn't accidentally get stepped on by a rouge mech.

A quick glance through the ferroglass cockpit window to the left and right, Ulrik made a mental note about the location of all his squad members, before he adjusted his neurohelm and updated his scanners with the newest data from the Ankhanne. The straggling scout mechs they've picked up earlier halted their advance on their position, and seemed to be taking a detour as they headed towards their compound, likely trying to avoid the same fate as the lance that met them head-on. Good, if they pushed the advantage now, they could get to the facility before the enemy and capture it before this battle escalates any more.

"Good job everyone, excellent shooting. Let's keep the momentum and push forward. Keep an eye out on the flanks, the valley's coming to and end in 500 meters, and then its a straight climb to the top. Regroup at point Delta-2 once you're through the valley." With that, Ulrik adjusted his terminal and sent a ping to his squadron's mechs to highlight the desired coordiantes on the map. With Fuka already pulling ahead and Alvin not far behind, he pushed his throttle to the max, sending the Centurion running forward at a blazing 64 kph. Better get there later than never.

The route up the valley seemed longer than it really was, several twists and turns making the journey take longer than it really should've, but Ulrik preferred not getting shot the moment his mech was poking out from behind cover. Still, the high walls eventually flattened to a point where he could see his lance on either side on the high ridge, the difference in elevation becoming less and less as they approached their destination. At the same time, visibility began to worsen as they climbed up the hillside: snow had begun to fall, large white crystals that quickly started to eat away at his visuals. At least the sensors were working, but if something was waiting for them up at the top, they wouldn't know until it had already fired on them.

First thing he noticed of the enemy compound were the blinking lights perching atop its antennas and towers, flashes of light that penetrated the slowly brewing storm. Warnings began to sound in his cockpit by now: the weather was turning for the worst and a storm was quickly brewing that promised to worsen the already questionable visibility to essentially stumbling around in the dark. He forwarded the information to the lance, his leg fidgeting as he leaned forward in the cockpit. "Come on baby, give me a little more..." Mumbling under his breath to his machine, and eyes squinting as the first buildings of the enemy compound appeared, he finally regrouped with the rest of lance. He loved the Centurion for many reasons, but at times he wished it wasn't so damn slow. Even the Fuka had managed to outrun him, despite riding in a Dragon and being one of the least experienced pilots on his team. Nevertheless, he was glad that nobody tripped over or got ambushed.

"Take point Fuka. Move as a team now, we don't know what to expect. If we're lucky, they don't have any more surprises."

Pushing up as a team, the first buildings of the compounds finally came into view: four large mechbays with doors open on all but one, warning lights flashing inside and the sound of distant sirens absorbed by the snow. The rest of the reinforced concrete buildings lined the hillsides behind them, a few dozen grey faces that poked out from their underground foundations. No turrets in sight, or any signs of a welcoming party. The sort of silence that made any mechwarrior anxious. Last time he barely had time to leave the dropship before getting shot, but this was making him much more anxious.

A quick glance at his rangefinder gave him the distance to the compound: 720 meters. "Eyes open everyone. Alvin, Jaromir, keep check on that mechbay. If the doors open and it is anything other than a bunch of pirates waving a 'Mech sized white flag, don't stop shooting until its slag." He too trained his guns on the 'Mechbay doors, but so far sensors didn't indicate anything to be worried about, and they continued to push up without opposition.

640 meters. The quiet whirring of the myomer bundles and fusion engines from his lance pierced the sound-absorbing blanket of snow falling from the sky.

500 meters. The faint blaring of klaxons could now be heard, small windows and details on the compound becoming visible to the naked eye through the snow.

420 meters. The ever increasing snowfall was starting to leave their mechs steaming as their fusion cores were evaporating the water on their vehicles.

280 meters. A faint buzzing sound began to fill the air as they approached the base, but the sensors still didn't read anything. Then again, Ulrik wasn't sure if they were designed to be all-weather, or if they were supposed to work in temperatures so far below freezing.

They were less than 200 meters from the base now, and Ulrik was starting to think that the job was as simple as they had expected it to be, when all of a sudden a sound that would terrify any mechwarrior sounded in his cockpit. MECH POWER UP DETECTED.

"Open fire, open fire!" Ulrik shouted, but before he could even squeeze the trigger on the stick, a thunderous boom echoed through the snowy landscape as a brilliant orange light appeared in place of where the mechbay's doors stood just a second ago, as it was blown into pieces by the AC/20 firing straight through it. Whirring through the air with a ghostly whine, the 203mm shell tore through the right leg of Fuka's Dragon, taking half the damn structure and all the armor with it as a deadly cloud of shrapnel covered the snow behind them for at least a hundred meters.

Through newly formed hole in the mechbay's doors, the smoking barrel of a Hunchback slowly appeared as all the snow it kicked up finally settled down. The mech was painted in a simple off-white color, a single red stripe running down across its left torso as the only identifiable marking. Several extra pieces of armor were welded all over the mech's torso and arms. Taking use of the confusing, the enemy mech pilot quickly pressed his mech into full speed, the Hunchback running out of the bay at full speed towards Ulrik's lance.

Seconds later, the Hunchback was illuminated by gunfire, and Ulrik squeezed the trigger to join the onslaught and unleash a beam of blue light that cut into the Hunchback's center torso with a shower of sparks, melting through the additional armor plates and digging into the enemy mech. "Take that you bastard!" Squeezing the trigger again, his Medium Lasers impacted the enemy's left torso, and he cursed under his breath he had missed the same location with his other attack: cooking the ammo of the Hunchback was a quick way to get a dangerous foe out of the equation.

At the same time, the buzzing sound from earlier intensified and grew louder, and just when Ulrik had thought a sneaky Hunchback was their only problem, a flight of fourp Ripper VTOL's emerged from beyond the crater's edge, unleashing a volley of Medium Lasers that kicked up snow all around Ulrik's lance but scored no direct hits. Tilting forward as the began their advance, Ulrik caught a glimpse of the infantry bays opening, before bright sparks of light appeared in the sky like shining stars: the light of jump packs as their owners jumped out of their transports and headed towards Ulrik's lance, small beams already cutting across the air as their rifles began to fire on them.

"Fuck!" Ulrik cursed as the situation went from bad to worse, the transport VTOL's starting to circle around now that they ahd dropped their troops for an attack run. It would seem that their opponents weren't out of ideas just yet. "Spread out, don't let them board your mech! Focus your fire on the Hunchback, we have to silence that AC/20 before it tears us to shreds!" Groaning angrily, his Centurion tilted to the left as she jumped in front of Fuka, taking up ground between her injured Dragon and the charging Hunchback. He readied his Centurion like a Solaris Gladiator or an old-earth boxer, waiting for the imminent clash between the 55 ton mechs. If the enemy pilot wanted a brawl, he'd give them one.

---

I know you all love the Hunchback, so here it :)

Maybe if you don't turn it into slag, we can have another medium mech that can barely keep up with the rest of the lance.

For this round, there's a few simple rules to keep in mind: Hunchback can be targeted as normal, but if you want to melee it, it will also get a free guaranteed charge hit on you, since its already charging. I didn't want to list the VTOLs in the table to keep it clean, but to hit them you'll still need to roll an 8. Any damage will kill them instantly. The troopers won't land or make attacks until the next turn, but you can only make attacks against individual ones unless you have specialized anti-infantry weapons: flamers, machine guns and small lasers. A cumbersome AC or SRM is not going to do much against a mobile floating target that can change its movement rapidly after all.

That's it, if you have any questions, ask them on the Discord as usual.

Also, Merry Christmas for everyone, hope you have great time during the holidays :)

@Letter Bee@Psyker Landshark@AndyC@Smike@Abstract Proxy@QJT@Starlance

Alvin Davion

"Captain," Alvin said as the mechbay door burst open to reveal a Hunchback, a large, unwieldy mech that nevertheless had the firepower to take on an entire lance in favorable circumstances. He pulled out the flamer he hated using and powered it up anyway, before confirming his intentions with his next words.

"It seems the Pirates are not going to take the opportunity before them to surrender. Despite my words earlier, I will be pulling my weight and using the flamer; what is the enemy thinking, sending infantry against mechs?"

Alvin detested burning people to ash, but he set several clusters of jetpack-using daredevils (?) on fire with a single sweep anyway; war itself was detestable but the nature of Humans made it so that they had to fight even when it was not in their best interests. Even as the glow of enemies who had been turned into crude blowtorches faded into the cold skies, the youth was already shooting a laser into the VTOL swarm, a laser that missed due to bad aim at the last moment, before firing at the Hunchback's left leg and finally scoring a hit. His next words were, "Sorry for getting distracted by the VTOLs and Infantry; on the plus side, I did score a hit."

With a cold smile, the young man then playfully stepped his machine aside to allow Fuka a clearer shot at the large, unwieldy enemy mech, knowing full well that despite their differences, the Dragon had the heavy firepower to make bringing down their foe a reality. Huh, would you look at that; I ran out of things to do except to watch as Fuka does what she does best; shoot straight with a crippled mech.

He had mixed feelings about the sole female pilot in the group, leaning towards a desire to make her acknowledge him by showing undeniable proof he had improved. Let her underestimate him once more as he snuck his way to improved skills and progress - He will prove himself strong.

She was told to take point, so point was what she took. Fuka shifted the Dragon up ahead of the pack, its elephantine feet sending up clouds of irradiated rock dust with every lumbering stop. She didn't have the total oblivious required to lie about her lack of elegance in piloting, and she was far too prideful to let anyone know how much it bothered her. Still, it warranted more time in the simulators when she was back onboard the Ankhanne.

The samurai kept an eye on the scout signatures pinged to her neurohelmet, hoping that they would prove to be suicidally overconfident and try and tangle with the lance. Her score was bleak at the moment, and a few easy snipes would really raise her mood. But alas, no such luck. Instead she had to focus on ramming her cockpit into the ground. Every step had to be deliberate, careful to avoid the more awkwardly protruding rocks lest they-

An explosion blasted apart the mechbay's doors, Fuka turning her guns on the source too slowly to stop a shell from ripping through the Dragon, the entire mech shuddering and staggering as Fuka fought to keep her balance with the new hole punched through her leg.

"HIT! Right leg is fucked!"

The culprit was a Hunchback, its hilariously overkill mega cannon a lot less funny when she was on the receiving end. She had been caught off-guard by the assault and found herself trying to lean on the leg now partially splattered across the irradiated snow. The neurohelm helpfully relayed the Dragon's precarious position by absolutely donkey-punching her inner ear, Fuka fighting the sensation of seasickness while just barely managing to keep from going prone.

All the while, VTOLs came screaming over the horizon while little jump-jet fuckers dropped in from the heavens, each one the potential source of an anti-armor charge. It was a hell of a lot to manage on one's first job and a hell of a lot for supposed pirates to have on hand.

All in all, her first time being on the receiving end of an ambush sucked. But unlike a certain FedSun Failure, she was determined to come out of it victorious...or at least manage to blow her brains out before they could manage to toss her into a cell.

The Slave in question was flooding the comms with garbage, Fuka handily ignoring him as she fired all but one of her weapons wildly. But when you were as good a shot as she was, spray and pray got results. Her own autocannon, much smaller and more impotent than the one strapped to the Hunchback (damn, did she want to salvage that Hunchback!), was nonetheless accurate, a shell crashing into the enemy mech's right leg. Her medium laser followed Ulrik's, Fuka helping to melt through all that armor.

The Rippers were a secondary issue but an issue nonetheless, and as expected Alvin wasn't capable of dealing with problems he couldn't grovel his way out of. Fuka picked up his slack with a missile barrage, her LRM spitting a stream of high explosives at the pack of transports. Three managed to evade the attack, but the fourth suffered a direct hit, the missile blasting open the back half. What remained of the transport dropped like a rock, careening towards the ground while Fuka deftly flicked her comms to HER-4K's private channel.

"That's how it's done, housepet!" she barked, lameleggedly dragging herself back behind the Centurion for cover.

The thermals were utterly useless for navigation, as with everything outside being the same freezing temperature they turned his view into a uniform gray canvas. Karel kept to the right flank of the formation, using his ‘Mechs’s speed to keep pace while moving in an irregular zig-zag pattern, hopefully making himself a harder target to hit and letting him see a wider area despite the worsening conditions. He kept an eye on the sensor pings marking the other enemy lance as they moved up, but nothing happened as they approached the enemy base until they were right on top of it.

It was a strange thing of beauty, the wake left by the autocannon shell in the thin atmosphere visible in the snowfall. Not the Hunchback, that thing was everything but beautiful, especially ‘terrifying’ and ‘a fucking problem’. Karel leaned against the throttle as he ran parallel to the Hunchback’s charge, giving it enough space to be able to adjust if it decided to come after him and using the speed and nimbleness of the Mad Goose to safely ignore the VTOLs. All he had to do was command the ‘Mech to slightly lean to the side via his neurohelmet and that was enough to turn a few degrees, like riding a motorbike. The jumpers would be given no such quarter. They were far too big a threat by virtue of being hard to scrape off once latched on and he had a small laser and, by god, he was gonna use it. He managed to clear out half a squad worth of them, not wanting to even think about what fresh Hell Remy was probably putting the crunchies through, before reaching his turning point, making a hard left 90 degree turn and keying his mic. ”Hold fire, crossing over.” He warned his lancemates, turning his torso to the left and raking the back of the Hunchback with his three medium lasers and quickly getting clear to allow the others to resume firing.

He didn’t know what exactly he stepped on, must’ve been a flatbed buried under the snow or something of the sort, all Karel knew was that his ‘Mech had suddenly jerked up, just barely missing the intended target and forcing Karel to move the reticle down toward the ground to avoid hitting a friendly. He could hit a jump trooper but not a fucking BattleMech, seriously? Couldn’t these peasants keep their base properly maintained? Swearing up a storm to rival the one outside the ‘Mech, he turned 90 degrees right again and sought shelter behind the building with the ‘Mech Bays, hoping the Hunchback wouldn’t have the time or the intent to turn around and take a shot at him as an AC/20 hit anywhere on him would take out a part of the Mongoose, including the center torso.

"We'll do as we're ordered." Jaromir responded to Alvin on comms, busying himself with alternating between checking the radar and his actual line of sight as they moved forward again. "I ain't opposed to blasting pirates." He finished, wondering what Alvin was working at here. Why pick him out in the first place? Judging by kill count, he was up, but at the very least, Jaromir hadn't figured Alvin for a kiss-ass. After all, if he really was a Davion bastard, the guy would've gotten himself into a better position if he had been.

The lances moved forward towards the base, and Jaromir kept his finger on the trigger as several mechbays came into view. One of the doors opened, and...

"Oh, shit." Jaromir murmured under his breath upon seeing the very recognizable profile of a HBK-4G. An AC/20 attached to ten tons of armor. Hell, probably more than ten, considering the extra bits seemingly welded onto the fucking thing. And considering it just nearly blew through the leg of their most heavily-armored mech, they were off to a poor start already. Of course, that wasn't even mentioning the VTOLs and infantry joining in on the shitfest.

"Firing all weapons, danger close!" Jaromir stayed where his Trebuchet was planted in the rear of the lance's formation, not wanting to build up even more heat than he had to while alpha striking. Fortunate that the Hunchback was close enough that every single one of his guns' range profiles could hit it effectively. Unfortunate that he was still in the range of its godforsaken autocannon.

In his desperation to be rid of the fucking thing, Jaromir didn't spend too much time lining up his shots. The PPC hit one leg, the AC/5 the other, and the SRM2 managed to tag the Hunchback in its Left Torso. Fuka's autocannon shot also impacted a leg, and the scheming salvage goblin within him took note of the possibility before them.

"We got some good hits in on the legs, keep that up!"

He wouldn't want to pilot the Hunchback, despite its armor. Getting within optimal AC/20 range meant getting closer than Jaromir would like, but just having a Hunchback within their lances would be a godsend for how long they could last in a firefight.

Slamming her throttle full forward, Zohra followed Karel's lead and kept her light mech hurtling on a winding course parallel to the enemy Hunchback that had suddenly turned on to ambush the lance. More targets for the pilot of the Hunchback to focus on. More forced choices for the outnumbered pilot to make. The VTOL and their suicidal jump jet infantry were a problem best left to others with far crueler weapons than hers. She didn't want to risk the crossfire like Karel and instead settled on an offset attack, enough to spoil an AC 20 she hoped.

The inside of her BattleMech heated up as Zohra and the RVN-2X rocketed forward. Keeping an eye on the horizon had left her with far less shooting to do than her new friends, but any flanking maneuver had been forestalled. It was time to make her RVN-2X sing, Zohra thought, her fingers resting heavy on her triggers. Shifting in her pilot chair from the sudden movements she demanded of her BattleMech, she struggled to line up her crosshairs on the Hunchback. Telemetries satisfied her targeting computer in a blessed second as the crosshairs flashed a bright green, screaming at her too shoot.

With a breath and a prayer, she fired an alpha strike that slammed into the front of the Hunchback. At close range the medium lasers struck home scorching the center and left torso of the already battered Hunchback. Watching her large laser burn deep into the center torso slagged moments before by her medium laser, Zohra almost felt a pang of pity for the enemy pilot...almost. Her short range missiles fell on the Hunchback scant milliseconds later, peppering the enemy medium mech and sending a puff of black smoke and fire erupting out of the right arm of the venerable trooper.

Completing her hit and run attack, Zohra darted at an angle away from the Hunchback and raced after Karel attempting to link up with the other pilot and his light mech. Hunter Killers they had called it in the academy. Two light mechs were better than one.