“Good work on those emplacements, Shona. Now let’s—“ His GEAR’s alert system cut him off and Adrian snapped to full attention. The L-68 started into a slow roll backward as he searched for the incoming munitions. He spotted them high in the sky, the light glinting off their shiny, blue tips. Adrian muttered a few choice curses as he counted the missiles sailing through the air and assured himself that there was no way they could all be coming for him. He raised his GEAR’s rifle and managed to shoot down two of the missiles with several shots off the cuff—then the missiles sped up. “Oh.” He exchanged his rifle for the machine pistol with a fresh magazine and poured on the throttle as he sprayed cheap, little bullets as point defense. Sure to his prediction, the mass of missiles split up and began heading toward the other Roughriders, leaving only a few still headed in his direction. The relief brought no guilt—the others would be fine (probably)—as Adrian stopped his GEAR on a dime and instantly throttled backward. The force of the movement threw him into the restraints and the missiles’ tracking failed to turn them in time. Any that hadn’t been, ‘destroyed,’ by Adrian’s pistol buried themselves in the ground, save for one that harmlessly traced a large circle past the L-68 and flew off to ruin the day of some local wildlife in the distance.
Shortly after, the Captain’s call for a sitrep came in over the radio. “This is Ray, I’m just fine. I’m about to engage that six-legged GEAR.” Adrian said as he shifted back into a more comfortable position on his seat. He rose his rifle and took a few shots at the legs of the GEAR approaching Nawlin’s position, just enough to get the message across, before he returned his attention to his newest quarry. At this point, it seemed, the cover only protected him from direct fire and visual sight—whatever voodoo the opposition had been using would leave him well open. The best plan he could think of would be to nip the problem in the bud.
“Chopper, watch yourself, you don’t know what that big guy’s packing,” Adrian called out as he settled his magnified view on the hexapod across the field. Big is right. Nice armor, but what if I hit something else? He took his measurements and sent an experimental shot downrange to confirm. Expectedly, the slug plinked off an angled section of the leg armor with little more than dark scratch in the paint as evidence of the impact. “Got your attention yet?” he mumbled as he adjusted his aim towards one of the many tiny openings he saw and pulled the trigger.