Pilatus

Geonet 2.0 - Battle for the Megacity

Alessia Piety

Name: Alessia Piety

Nickname(s): Often goes by Alese, pronounced, Ah-lease or ’Lese (Lease-E)

Alese

“This is a lot of credits… Are you sure you wanna do this?"

Age: 23

Appearance:

Alessia is petite, only about 5’5” with sapphire blue eyes and a small nose giving her a slight childish appearance that she hates when people mistake her for being a teenager. Hair is naturally a straw blonde that parts over her left eye and extends about halfway down her back. She usually wears it in a ponytail or some kind of tied style. As with the predominant fashions, she regularly has a cascaded neon gradient that blends out to the ends and she takes a lot of pride in being very good at making her colors flow and appear “natural”.

Though she can be frustrated by her somewhat less than average height, she does consider her figure to be one of her best assets. She can be very vain and if she thinks she’s being admired will almost always put one hand on her hip. Arms are normally adorned with several synthetic and metallic bracelets, some of which serve a purpose from simple data storage all the way to advanced RF jamming. She switches them up regularly according to style and purpose. This is also where she usually wears her GeoNet, blending it in with the other bands.

Similar to her hairstyles, Alese takes care when she is outside the shop to be coordinated with the “rebellious” street motifs seen on most adults under thirty. Bright neons are the norm, though it's common to find the fashion displayed by posers and members of the Heirs. Alese’s particular tastes are modeled after what was once known as “Rockabilly” lifestyle that went along with hot-rod and street culture in eons past, though she rarely wears heels, always sneakers, the twist on the popular look is unique to her and she absolutely adores getting compliments for it.

Faction:

While technically, “solo”, Alessia tries to keep at least cordial relations with all the factions as she encounters them and holds her opinions back in favor of good business. Privately, she probably has the strongest affinity towards members of the Pack and likes their aesthetic and preference for anonymity as well as the shared appreciation for craftsmanship. Pack members understand the technical aspects of her work and know what they want in detail. As her work has become more popular among the various factions, she’s starting to feel nervous about being questioned where her loyalties reside and about being pressured to break her neutrality.

Sk8te Cell/Gang: N/A - This would fall under a similar description as above.

Background:

Alesia is the only child of her father, Norris Piety’s, third marriage. She has one older brother from Norris’ first marriage that she is aware of, but rarely sees. Growing up her childhood was not that remarkable from any other, however she learned to take solace in the fact that she still had an intact family where many others had lost parents or barely survived on the labors of a single, often transient caretaker. Her relationship with her young mother, Amanda, was strong, but curiosity for the technical and the firm and protective presence of Norris put her on the path to becoming a technical wiz.

Starting as a mobile maintenance service, what would become Iron Technica was a “one man, one van” operation after Norris was furloughed from his job as a corporate engineer and city planner. Having no choice, being unable to provide for Amanda and young Alese on the meager furlough stipend, Norris chose to strike out on his own, plying his talents to the innumerable repair needs of urban MegaCity. Contracts were plentiful, hours were long, but pay was hard earned. Being a fairly clever entrepreneur and understanding the ebb and flow of the factions that ruled the ground in the city, Norris paid his dues to whatever local gang ruled his territory, but never explicitly accepted any work from them despite the temptation of huge payouts.

Alese came under Norris’ tutelage just as she was old enough to turn a wrench and Iron Technica had settled into the warehouse/garage location that could hold the growing collection of parts and projects that her father had collected over the years. At some level, especially as a teen, she could sense the repair and maintenance life was never something he wanted for his daughter and further, it seemed like the skillset he passed down to her was something that he had truly wanted for her nebulous half-brother. Still, under his careful teaching, she became a skilled technician and with age came to understand her father’s extreme reluctance towards any work associated with the factions and the value of keeping one’s nose out of street associations whenever possible- a temptation she would come to struggle with.

A small project here or an upgrade there as she gained confidence in her craft- and for a much better rate than some of the established modders; over time, Alese’s work is continuing to gain a quiet popularity among the factions to the point where she is beginning to have trouble keeping it hidden and her “calling card” stamp of a cartoon cat holding a wrench has become something of a minor fashion statement in some circles. Her father is fairly certain about the work she has been doing on the side, but has yet to confront her, though the tension in the subject is obviously growing. The core business of Iron Technica is still doing well, but his age is starting to slow him. There is no “retirement” in MegaCity and without her, the business will not survive.

Cybernetics:

None. 100% natural human… Although she owns all kinds of gadgets and tools to substitute where a modern mod would likely be easier, she has a real fear of surgery and especially needles. Seeing them equipped by other people doesn’t generally bother her, but the thought of her own body becoming part machine is absolute nightmare fuel for her.

Weapons/Tools:

The shop garage at Iron Technica has a master level of hand tools and diagnostic equipment for working on anything from a small drone to a bus. While the majority of these, often rare and pricey sets belong to Alese’s dad, she has full access and a respectable array of tools of her own. These are situated in a massive, fortified locker-box that takes up a large section of the back wall in the main shop. Some drawers are high enough that she often has to find a box or stool to reach whatever item she’s after. Considering the value of many of these gadgets and implements, she’s very wary about taking any of them far from the shop.

On her person, Alese carries a small mini-knife with a short 1.5” blade that she keeps hidden along with an equally sleek and discreet handgun that holds eight rounds. She is not a violent person at all and can’t imagine actually hurting anyone with either weapon, but understands the need. These items are principally centered on hidden defense and giving her the ability to escape some of MegaCity’s more robust denizens. A stab from the knife will deliver a one-time electrical charge that will disable an enhanced attacker for about ten seconds while the ammo for the handgun has a similar effect.

At present, she’s been working on a small, self defense drone about the same size as a basketball that can hover and follow her around as a visible deterrent to unsavory characters. It still doesn’t work exactly right, but she’s reached the point where she at least feels comfortable that it won’t shoot her instead of a would-be attacker.

Likes:
+ Actual Paperback Books
+ Orchestral Synth
+ Caffeine

Dislikes:
+ Most forms of Authority
+ Clutter/Disorder
+ Extremely claustrophobic

Quirks:
- Only sets her alarms by prime numbers, even the seconds
- Talks to herself a lot
- Very superstitious, often about things that make no sense

Places of Interest:

-Iron Technica: The family business. A cross between a shop, garage, scrapyard and warehouse all rolled into one not far removed from Metro Street and just outside of accepted Red Light territory. The plot itself is larger than most, set on a corner with a semi-storefront next to a large garage door and a high fence that extends around the rear perimeter. The main building has enough floor space to house about five standard size vehicles inside with one additional on a lift while a sectioned, lofted area above the ground floor serves as the living space. The open area at the rear of property has several large shipping containers stacked neatly and rarely is anything left out so as not to tempt prying eyes looking on from above, however most everyone knows there’s a treasure trove of tools, equipment and hard to find items behind the relatively unsuspecting appearance.

-MegaCity Expressway: The high speed traffic arteries of the city, particularly the “Outer Loop” are where large trucks can usually be found ferrying goods outside the congestion of Metro Street to distant hubs for distribution and commerce across the urban expanse. These high speed sections are both efficient and functional. Goods moving at well over 100mph are much harder to hijack than at a traffic signal though that hasn’t stopped some from the attempt.

Geonet 2.0 - Battle for the Megacity

I'm down for plotting if anyone wants. Hit me up.

Geonet 2.0 - Battle for the Megacity

I normally don't post WIPs, but i think in this case it may be helpful as we all get on the same page with plotting.

Only one "original" location at the bottom, hope that is okay. Otherwise I pretty much only have background to finish. I didn't want to give away everything in the CS, but wide open to plotting if we get a chat going.

Alessia

Name: Alessia Piety

Nickname(s): Often goes by Alese, pronounced, Ah-lease or ’Lese (Lease-E)

Alese

“This is a lot of credits… Are you sure you wanna do this?"

Age: 26

Appearance:

Alessia is petite, only about 5’5” with sapphire blue eyes and a small nose giving her a slight childish appearance that she hates when people mistake her for being a teenager. Hair is naturally a straw blonde that parts over her left eye and extends about halfway down her back. She usually wears it in a ponytail or some kind of tied style. As with the predominant fashions, she regularly has a cascaded neon gradient that blends out to the ends and she takes a lot of pride in being very good at making her colors flow and appear “natural”.

Though she can be frustrated by her somewhat less than average height, she does consider her figure to be one of her best assets. She can be very vain and if she thinks she’s being admired will almost always put one hand on her hip. Arms are normally adorned with several synthetic and metallic bracelets, some of which serve a purpose from simple data storage all the way to advanced RF jamming. She switches them up regularly according to style and purpose. This is also where she usually wears her GeoNet, blending it in with the other bands.

Similar to her hairstyles, Alese takes care when she is outside the shop to be coordinated with the “rebellious” street motifs seen on most adults under thirty. Bright neons are the norm, though it's common to find the fashion displayed by posers and members of the Heirs. Alese’s particular tastes are modeled after what was once known as “Rockabilly” lifestyle that went along with hot-rod and street culture in eons past, though she rarely wears heels, always sneakers, the twist on the popular look is unique to her and she absolutely adores getting compliments for it.

Faction:

While technically, “solo”, Alessia tries to keep at least cordial relations with all the factions as she encounters them and holds her opinions back in favor of good business. Privately, she probably has the strongest affinity towards members of the Pack and likes their aesthetic and preference for anonymity as well as the shared appreciation for craftsmanship. Pack members understand the technical aspects of her work and know what they want in detail. As her work has become more popular among the various factions, she’s starting to feel nervous about being questioned where her loyalties reside and about being pressured to break her neutrality.

Sk8te Cell/Gang: N/A - This would fall under a similar description as above.

Background:

Alesia is the only child of her father, Norris Piety’s, third marriage. She has one older brother from Norris’ first marriage that she is aware of, but rarely sees. Growing up her childhood was not that remarkable from any other, however she learned to take solace in the fact that she still had an intact family where many others had lost parents or barely survived on the labors of a single, often transient caretaker. Her relationship with her young mother, Amanda, was strong, but curiosity for the technical and the firm and protective presence of Norris put her on the path to becoming a technical wiz.

Starting as a mobile maintenance service, what would become Iron Technica was a “one man, one van” operation after Norris was furloughed from his job as a corporate engineer and city planner. Having no choice, being unable to provide for Amanda and young Alese on the meager furlough stipend, Norris chose to strike out on his own, plying his talents to the innumerable repair needs of urban MegaCity. Contracts were plentiful, hours were long, but pay was hard earned. Being a fairly clever entrepreneur and understanding the ebb and flow of the factions that ruled the ground in the city, Norris paid his dues to whatever local gang ruled his territory, but never explicitly accepted any work from them despite the temptation of huge payouts.

Alese came under Norris’ tutelage just as she was old enough to turn a wrench and Iron Technica had settled into the warehouse/garage location that could hold the growing collection of parts and projects that her father had collected over the years. At some level, especially as a teen, she could sense the repair and maintenance life was never something he wanted for his daughter and further, it seemed like the skillset he passed down to her was something that he had truly wanted for her nebulous half-brother. Still, under his careful teaching, she became a skilled technician and with age came to understand her father’s extreme reluctance towards any work associated with the factions and the value of keeping one’s nose out of street associations whenever possible- a temptation she would come to struggle with.

A small project here or an upgrade there as she gained confidence in her craft- and for a much better rate than some of the established modders; over time, Alese’s work is continuing to gain a quiet popularity among the factions to the point where she is beginning to have trouble keeping it hidden and her “calling card” stamp of a cartoon cat holding a wrench has become something of a minor fashion statement in some circles. Her father is fairly certain about the work she has been doing on the side, but has yet to confront her, though the tension in the subject is obviously growing. The core business of Iron Technica is still doing well, but his age is starting to slow him. There is no “retirement” in MegaCity and without her, the business will not survive.

Cybernetics:

None. 100% natural human… Although she owns all kinds of gadgets and tools to substitute where a modern mod would likely be easier, she has a real fear of surgery and especially needles. Seeing them equipped by other people doesn’t generally bother her, but the thought of her own body becoming part machine is absolute nightmare fuel for her.

Weapons/Tools:

The shop garage at Iron Technica has a master level of hand tools and diagnostic equipment for working on anything from a small drone to a bus. While the majority of these, often rare and pricey sets belong to Alese’s dad, she has full access and a respectable array of tools of her own. These are situated in a massive, fortified locker-box that takes up a large section of the back wall in the main shop. Some drawers are high enough that she often has to find a box or stool to reach whatever item she’s after. Considering the value of many of these gadgets and implements, she’s very wary about taking any of them far from the shop.

On her person, Alese carries a small mini-knife with a short 1.5” blade that she keeps hidden along with an equally sleek and discreet handgun that holds eight rounds. She is not a violent person at all and can’t imagine actually hurting anyone with either weapon, but understands the need. These items are principally centered on hidden defense and giving her the ability to escape some of MegaCity’s more robust denizens. A stab from the knife will deliver a one-time electrical charge that will disable an enhanced attacker for about ten seconds while the ammo for the handgun has a similar effect.

At present, she’s been working on a small, self defense drone about the same size as a basketball that can hover and follow her around as a visible deterrent to unsavory characters. It still doesn’t work exactly right, but she’s reached the point where she at least feels comfortable that it won’t shoot her instead of a would-be attacker.

Likes:
+ Actual Paperback Books
+ Orchestral Synth
+ Caffeine

Dislikes:
+ Most forms of Authority
+ Clutter/Disorder
+ Extremely claustrophobic

Quirks:
- Only sets her alarms by prime numbers, even the seconds
- Talks to herself a lot
- Very superstitious, often about things that make no sense

Places of Interest:

-Iron Technica: The family business. A cross between a shop, garage, scrapyard and warehouse all rolled into one not far removed from Metro Street and just outside of accepted Red Light territory. The plot itself is larger than most, set on a corner with a semi-storefront next to a large garage door and a high fence that extends around the rear perimeter. The main building has enough floor space to house about five standard size vehicles inside with one additional on a lift while a sectioned, lofted area above the ground floor serves as the living space. The open area at the rear of property has several large shipping containers stacked neatly and rarely is anything left out so as not to tempt prying eyes looking on from above, however most everyone knows there’s a treasure trove of tools, equipment and hard to find items behind the relatively unsuspecting appearance.

-MegaCity Expressway: The high speed traffic arteries of the city, particularly the “Outer Loop” are where large trucks can usually be found ferrying goods outside the congestion of Metro Street to distant hubs for distribution and commerce across the urban expanse. These high speed sections are both efficient and functional. Goods moving at well over 100mph are much harder to hijack than at a traffic signal though that hasn’t stopped some from the attempt.

EDIT: All done and ready.

Geonet 2.0 - Battle for the Megacity

This almost looks like slice of life in a cyberpunk setting. I have a couple ideas and might dabble.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Merry-Go-Round

Aroxy and the rest of the crew of the Merry-Go-Round had barely had a chance to register the successful takedown of the Hunchback before the hull was again rattled to the point where the Von Luckner seemed shutter like some angry war elephant from antiquity, growing more irate with yet another massive hammerstrike to her armor. As the interior lights dimmed and sensor screens flickered, things happened quickly thereafter, but the shift of the energy in the battle was as palpable as the smell of scorched armor and chemical propellant in the air. Almost as soon as the sound of jet noise roared overhead, debris fell over and pranged off their armor like rain. The Panther and Hunchback both exploded, but there was no time to search the periscope for whatever the hell was going on. They needed to put their guns on the next target pronto, and the crew’s silence after the second AC20 strike signaled all were of the same grim sincerity. This was not an unfamiliar position and Aroxy had seen enough in his career to sense the energy in a fight. It was often the same, whether it was a fist fight or a clash of armor. He didn’t need a sensor screen to tell him Merry wasn’t going to take many more high powered shots, the curtain needed to be closed on this circus.

Almost as aggravating as being tagged by two AC20 shots, was Raven’s voice again coming through on comms as if he had somehow sensed Aroxy had turned off the “open” frequency. He didn’t answer the mechwarrior, but if they survived this, there was going to be a certain level of satisfaction to be had at the Colonel’s debrief when it came to signals discipline and some of the Knights’ more enthusiastic warriors. “Keep an eye on that flyer, Helma.” Aroxy growled watching it flash out of effective range.

“Got it!”

Ansel had been slightly knocked out of rhythm by the last hit, but Aroxy could tell by the sound of loader’s work, that the main gun was just about ready to fire again. As the Crusader and Catapult advanced, he could feel his gut tighten with the knowledge the well armored medium mech was still loaded with inferno SRMs. They wouldn’t be able to reverse quicker than the mechs could advance and this was going to be the Fists’ last stand. They had nothing to lose and he could vividly remember how it had only taken a lucky salvo from the Longbow to damage their final drive back in the raid. In a dark corner of his mind, he reckoned if he was a depraved, murderous son-of-a-bitch, a giant target like Merry that was only traditionally armored and not environment sealed like a mech would be exactly what he would take with him if he was about to check out. He could already sense Takka lining up on the mech’s center mass. If Crusader’s were known for nothing else, it was exploding in spectacular ways and that was exactly how this was going to go down- until he heard the squad frequency crackle again:

"Pull… back! Do- let them…. close- -tankers or… treat; -ox them …the bridge!"

He wasn’t sure if a piece of falling Mechbuster had pranged off the antenna or it was just the haggard gasp of Daschke’s nearly wrecked Ostroc, but it instantly reminded him of the briefing: All else fails, we bring the goddamn mountain down on them..

“Takka! Hit the bridge now!” Aroxy barked. “Helma, everything into the structure. We’ll take our chances with the flyboy.”

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Jonathan McCord

The first azure bolt snapped up from the pathway where the Crimson Fists had first arrived to traverse the pass. Ripping through howling bands of snow, undisturbed by the force of wind, the shot pulsed high overhead and caught the southern turning Mechbuster squarely under the nose as it finished its turn to start a second pass on the Green Knights’ position. Only being an atmospheric fighter, its nominally armored structure was easily pierced by a PPC which ignited the fuel tank into an orange bloom that quickly transformed into a hydra of burning parts and rich black smoke that scattered over the narrow battlefield.

The separated reticles of Jon’s main guns converged over his left eye as he clicked on the arm lock while the rest of his glance remained expressionless as the remains of the fighter fell through the canyon in pieces between the opposing lances. The next shot would only be one PPC and the AC5 together. He would have preferred to enter the fray with a combined salvo, but the Mechbusters hadn’t exactly been a bullet point on the scant briefing. However, with one barrel cycling, he was ready to set up for a very familiar alternating pattern. Like a choreographed dance or the experienced movements of a boxer in the ring, the mech’s steps and the cooldown timing of the weapons would keep the Marauder’s heat in check while the frigid cold of the mountain peak would give him a little extra edge. As everyone turned their attention to the sudden explosion in the air, Jon gently eased his crosshairs over the back of the ragged Panther’s armless form as it engaged the Knights’ Phoenix Hawk, letting the axis lines daintily drift over the left torso before his grip calmly closed on the trigger.

Both weapons erupted together in an instant sending a sleek tracer and a second refined bolt downrange into the back of the light mech cooking off the whole chassis like a stack of fireworks from the waist up. Before the pilot had a chance to react, the torso had exploded into a chaotic blue plume of free reaction mass. Jon’s thumb hovered over the medium lasers as the light mech fell away, but he kept his trigger discipline as the surprise set in and the L-Shape of the ambush was formed in reverse with the Knights. The two quick shots would be hard to follow on just the sensor screen alone, particularly with the high interference emanating from the Knights’ Raven while the lasers would easily trace right back to his position at the southeastern entrance to the pass. He scanned briefly in the chaotic moment. No Firestarter, unless it was already down, while the Von Luckner leveled the Hunchback with a murderous salvo from its main gun and missile batteries, bowling the mech over and removing its left arm. Several of the Knights looked equally worse for wear, but they needed to press now.

Jon could see the muted light flickering from that forsaken “open” frequency as the chaos really set in, but he wasn’t on any of the Knights’ signals instructions so they were going to have to visually coordinate the best they could. He reluctantly hoped the remaining Mechbuster would have some pause after seeing his wingman get the chop on the first pass though from what he knew about aerospace jockeys, they tended to come in two varieties: Bat shit crazy and total coward, though anyone insane enough to strap into a cannon with wings and no armor and fly into this weather was either terrified of their command or every bit of the latter. If the Knights could push the opportunity, they could give them something else much more to fear.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Merry-Go-Round

Aroxy watched Tarak’s Phoenix Hawk dance out of the way just in time for the inset barrel of the Hunchback’s AC20 to be pointed straight at them.

Shit.

Merry took it right on the chin and it was like being smashed by a massive hammer that rattled the crew’s teeth, but the massive tank took it like a wave crashing against a pier. The lights and sensor screens inside the hull flickered briefly, but everything was holding, having absorbed the blast completely through her armor. She is angry. Aroxy thought to himself as he looked back up through the periscope, his view slightly marred by black, scorched soot from the explosion. The Hunchback attempted a kick towards Tarak, but missed and now they were barrel to barrel again, even closer than before, like two battleships in the stories of old and it was time to remind that stocky little bastard about the pecking order of AC20 shooters on the mountain.

“I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.” Takka growled through gritted teeth. Aroxy wasn’t entirely sure if his gunner was referring to Tarak or the Crimson Fist pilot.

“FIRE!” Aroxy barked.

The answer of the Von Luckner’s cannon barked back through the pass and the tank shuttered as the high powered shell roared out of the barrel back at the Hunchback.

“Missiles!” Aroxy commanded again. “Give him both racks, Helma.” He knew again. He didn’t have to specify which. The direct hit from the enemy mech had the crew dialed up to eleven. It was real for them. No scratched paint, dancing around, showboating or giving speeches. Helma slammed the launch controls for both the Von Luckner’s short range batteries at the same time sending an angry cloud of missiles right behind Takka’s shot out of the main gun. “Keep an eye on that Crusader, Helma.” Aroxy said scanning, eyes darting fast, assessing, prioritizing. He didn’t have time to notice whatever had transpired as the Firestarter fell, but he was most definitely trying to keep the Knights’ more abused mech jocks in the fight. They needed to move. “Takka, shift left, make ready to fire again, don’t block the TAG beam.” He said watching Ziska’s battered Raven skittering by with an arm missing, but still keeping its nearly invisible TAG beam trained. He could hear Ansel working, knowing just by the sound of his loader’s movements where he was in the reload as he felt the tracks begin to bite in opposite directions and rotate the hull.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Jonathan McCord

Jon had piloted the machine beneath him almost his entire life, since he was tall enough to reach the pedals. Only his time in the infantry and as a regular in the Taurian Defense Force had separated him from Ossie’s cockpit. It was more than enough time combined with experience to know the feel of battle reverberating up through the ground long before he entered sensor range. The footing under the Marauder’s angular gait was treacherous even for a standard walker and he had to be patient with his own sense of urgency as several steps swung the weapon pods over nothing but empty chasms of rock and icy fog below. The wind blew harder and the snow picked up the closer he got, having left the regular trail some time ago. He wasn’t long on Espia, far before the coup, that he’d taken time to get to know the pass as a part of his territory under Cassandra’s contract as well as a shortcut that would make for an easy place to get lost. The battlemech stepped carefully, as if examining its footing cautiously under the reins of its rider. A few more twists and he would be there. A forceful wind blew up underneath the seventy-five ton machine enough to give him pause and remind him there was still one more point of business to handle.

Considering what he had learned about Gaius Wayne and his company, he was fairly confident the Colonel ran a high level of Opsec despite the flamboyant attitudes of many of his employees. Standard practice in any regular outfit was never to use the same signals plan twice so the frequency sets he’d been given at the dam engagement were likely useless at this point and he’d be talking to nothing but static. However, he did know how much the Colonel liked to direct battle from the ancient Mobile HQ he’d seen when he met the Knights back in the northern mountain. Assuming they had their antenna up, which he was sure they did, he needed to let them know of his approach before his again unknown IFF triggered a hail of fire from both sides when he arrived on the scene. Jon’s knowledge of the pass gave him a pretty good idea where the Colonel would have parked the ungainly vehicle after navigating the routes available to wheeled platforms. All he had to do was point a VHF radio burst in the right direction and hope he got an answer. He wasn’t worried about anyone intercepting the transmission. There wouldn’t be anyone crazy enough to be perched, freezing their ass off at just the right time to catch the transmission let alone understand it or further, do anything about it.

Morse code, for the few that still knew it, remained a slick and easy way to put data in the air, particularly after the devastation of the Succession Wars and the general destruction of most high technology from the old days. Jon couldn’t brag about being particularly skilled, but as a recon infantryman he knew enough to satisfy the squad comms geek. As he hit a switchback in the trail with a broad shot up the mountain to where he reckoned the Colonel and his staff, of what looked like kids, would probably have the large vehicle parked. He tapped a few commands into the comms deck and brought up a list of quick brevity codes as the antenna went up on the back of the mech’s torso. He set the lines to repeat on the higher end of the spectrum and fired off the broadcast on repeat leaving a break between bursts:

FREN
MAD3
AVC

With any luck, they would be listening, granted he was correct in the direction he aimed the transmission. A simple spectrum analysis would tell them what frequency he was on and give them a chance to answer and coordinate. He figured the kids would be lost to his subterfuge, but the Colonel would likely understand the use of the code and the seldom monitored frequency range.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Merry-Go-Round

“Fucking shit, is this a mech lance or debate team?!” Helma growled. The LRM rack flashed green on her display indicating the reload was completed and with Ziska’s NARC newly attached to the Crusader, she didn’t hesitate to put another salvo in the air. The missiles roared out the rack, arcing vertically in another processional line that went right after the beacon.

“Holy shit, does he ever shut up?” Ansel said, hurriedly finishing the loading of a fresh armor piercing round for Merry-Go-Round’s main gun as Family Man walked up nearby and the Shadow Hawk’s steps shook the ground beneath them.

Aroxy didn’t have much to say, but he calmly reached up and turned off the open band scan about halfway through Raven’s speech as he watched the Crimson Fists’ response to the initial ambush through the periscope. He shook his head a little at the constant talking of the Knights. These mechwarriors weren’t nearly scared enough and there was still a strong possibility that they could lose this fight. A group of mercs capable of the slaughter for which the Fists had just engaged were not to be underestimated and were far beyond haughty lecture.

“Somebody needs to put his ass on decaf.” Takka said right after the radio went silent. He was just about lined up again on the Hunchback and made a few last adjustments on the shot right as Ansel announced the gun was ready with a shout.

Aroxy’s face was stern and unemotional as both the mangled Ostroc and missile-scarred Raven retreated in front of the Von Luckner’s barrel. It wasn’t the ambush he would have planned, but Daschke was leading the element and this was the way she wanted it. He wanted to reposition, however he needed Takka to get his confidence back and putting more variables into the gunnery equation would only make it more difficult. It was a risk worth taking he had decided in less than the blink of an eye. They were still the Knights’ overall hardest hitter and his gunner’s aim had the potential to make the difference. “Check that wind, Takka.” He said, observing the black smoke rolling from the exposed arm socket on Susser Todd.

“Got it, Cap.” There was the confidence of a fresh shell in the barrel within his voice. Despite the calamity of their first salvo, he felt ready this time and his mind repeatedly traced the arc of the last shell through the air compensating in the angle of the barrel towards the broadside of the Hunchback’s main weapon.

Aroxy was right on the verge of giving the FIRE command when Tarak’s Phoenix Hawk came blazing right across Merry-Go-Round’s line of fire.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Takka howled, jumping up in his straps at the sight of the humanoid mech vaulting right in front of his shot on the Hunchback. “TELL THAT STUPID COCKSUCKER TO GET OUTTA THE WAY!” He roared as Helma chimed in with a similar string of colorful epitaphs directed at the Mechwarrior. She could see the whole thing from her viewport.

Aroxy grit his teeth, even more glad though that he had switched off the radio. Like the enemy before, his own side had committed the classical Mech Jock gaffe of forgetting about the ground armor.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Jonathan McCord

It didn’t take him long to pick up the trail. Like most outfits, it was a single file line to break up the mark of their prints in the Espian dirt, hide their numbers and make identification harder for scouts. Unlike ground vehicles with non-directional tires or tracks however, Battlemechs could never disguise which direction they were traveling. Jon’s eyes constantly scanned the expansive glass of the cockpit. Even though the territory north of Nui Awa wasn’t completely indian country, he regularly zig-zagged in his path over the Crimson Fists’ trail and kept his torso moving to keep his cockpit from being a steady target for an idling Manticore or Bulldog tucked into a treeline that might want to get fresh. The grassy plains thumped gently under Ossie’s full stride and the mountain range steadily filled the horizon in front of him. The trail ahead was familiar territory and good hunting ground. Plenty of cover and lots of snow and ice to keep the guns cool. He knew the Knights were going to catch them first, but what that encounter would look like when he got there wasn’t a guarantee and an exfil over the same open country, should they not be successful, was going to be a real shitty deal. He really wanted a cigarette.

As the terrain slowly elevated and shifted from soft plains grass to juts of sharp rock, he eased into a trot as the profile of the Fists’ trail diverged and they stopped for a moment. Ossie’s angular form rotated slowly as it hovered like a bloodhound at the conflagration that had apparently taken place prior to the ascent. Jon’s glance narrowed and he quietly named off the machines. “Firestarter…” The light mech's jaunty little legs took the lead position. “Crusader… Hunchback” The mediums fanned out on opposing sides. Footpad identification was standard training. Somewhere he had a very worn TDF issued stack of playing cards that had helped commit the images to memory over a multitude of poker games. “Whammer…” His brow arched a bit as another set emerged that hadn’t been in the datapad briefing. “...And a Panther” He looked around a bit further for a moment, pulling himself up in the straps to study the ground. “Why did you stop?” His eyes began to carefully follow the trail of the Warhammer as it appeared to turn and double back towards Nui Awa. Shit.. His eyes followed the tracks as they led away. The thought of pursuit crossed his mind, but he kept looking for another clue as to why the lance had stopped.

The rendezvous had been quick for sure, not even long enough to fully settle the tracks and just enough for the ‘Hammer to divert and for another to join in as a sub. Jon’s lips curled a bit. The birdlike prints of a Catapult were unmistakable against the muddy rock, joining in from the west. His eyes followed up the mountain as the lance rejoined in file and proceeded up the pass. Losing a Warhammer but gaining a Catty and a Panther, wasn’t exactly a break in their favor, however in the narrow lanes of the peak it would be harder for the lights to stretch their legs and for the ‘Cat to keep a sensor lock. The missile carrier instantly made him think about Marit first, but he knew at least two of the Knights’ mechs had jump jets. He settled back and throttled up; the machine beneath him leaning into the run, almost sensing the conclusion of the pursuit through his thoughts in the neurohelmet. He knew the Fists weren’t familiar with the pass as he was and would take the regular route before they risked a fall, but a few careful steps and he could save some time and meet them with a clear shot at their flank. He glanced up at the regular gray soup of Espian clouds and then at the time as he started the ascent. A break in weather could give him a glimmer of sunlight to his back, but he prepared himself to come upon the worst as he moved up the trail.