[Log] Steel Union - The Battle of Chicago (Part 1)
WHO: Amuro Ray, Blackout, Isa Reichert, Prayer Reverie, Simon, Sinclair St. James, Tepet Inatera, Viral
WHEN: Dec 7
WHERE: Mundane Sector, Steel Union - USA
WHAT: General Sinclair St. James launches his eastward push. IPA defenders and Syndicate offensives step up to duke it out over the fate of the Windy City.
WATCH FOR: Simon and Sinclair hold an Epic Mech Battle, two Gundams and three MiG-29B-12 "Fulcrum-B" fighters duke it out, Viral and Blackout trade fours, and Inatera proves that yes, horse-mounted cavalry can go toe to toe against big nasty machines.
TAGS NEEDED: Isa Reichert
Steel Union - USA
Welcome to the United States. Welcome to a nation at war with itself.
America is in the middle of it's second civil war. Increasing political divisions have lead to several Midwest States declaring Consitutionally justified revolution against the corrupt government. Lead by the traitorus General Sinclair St. James, the Core States Union has struck first and decisively, using their Mechanized Standing Tanks to all but cripple the Patriot Guard.
The survivors of the Patriot Guard, lead by Major John Rodgers, now fight a desperate battle against an enemy that has them out numbered, out gunned, and out maneuvered. Worst of all, General St. James has just launched his campaign to end the war once and for all... a massive push towards the capitol, Washington DC!
Contents:
Tepet Inatera
Blackout
Prayer Reverie
Amuro Ray
Viral
Simon
Sinclair St. James
Tepet Inatera fully heals Tepet Inatera with her Sleep cures all wounds! action.
Tepet Inatera hits Tepet Inatera with her Or does it attack.
You fully heal Isa Reichert with your oopth action.
You have been resurrected from knockout!
Tepet Inatera hits Tepet Inatera with her Well, close enough jab.
Simon fully heals Simon with his whoops action.
The Loyalists have turned out in force. The top brass want Chicago to hold for several very important reasons. This is Sinclair's first big 'push' eastward. Since he took command of the CSU, the rogue General has been consolidating and fortifying his holdings. This is his offensive. The Brass want it stalled before it can gain momentum. Chicago's strategic importance due to its location on the Great Lakes and its proximity to the Mississippi can not be overlooked, either. But also, the lost of Naval Station Great Lakes in North Chicago would be a nigh fatal blow to the Loyalist defence effort.
The loss of Lackland AFB in San Antonio a week ago has already sent ripples through the Air Force... and raised questions as to whether or not the Air Force is going to have a place to train new Airmen by the end of the war. Great Lakes is to the Navy what Lackland is to the Air Force... it's only Basic Military Training camp. The Commander has held back two graduating cycles from shipping out to their advance training posts in order to send a little over two thousand Mossberg 500 qualified Sailors to the network of hastily constructed trenches and bunkers outside of the city. The new graduates are nervous. None of them have practical experience. Some don't have body armor. Some don't have weapons yet.
The Core States Forces arrived outside of the city yesterday and have waited before charging, gathering their force and drawing up a battle plan. The Loyalists have, ironically, counted this delay as a blessing, giving them more time to entrench into the suburbs outside the city, fortify their artillery batteries, and get every rifle wielding man then can to Chicago.
The gap between the two forces is quiet, civilians having gotten out of the way from between the two forces any way that they could. The Loyalist line is silent, nervous.
The Core line, however, gets a whole lot louder as it's MSTs start to advance. The rumbling of the tanks footfalls back be felt along the Loyalist line, doing little to help sooth their nerves.
Sinclair St. James says, "All units, move out."
Sinclair St. James says, "Be advised, the air-space over the Loyalist line will not, repeat, not be safe in three minutes, so keep flying mechs grounded or at least at high altitude."
Wraith: Isa Reichert transmits the sound of aircraft engines. "Geist Squadron. We're on our way. Heh, heh. Safety is a relative term, General."
Viral says, "Understood."
Lapis clang, "Ow! .. My Kaempfer is still under repairs, and the Qubeley is still in Eisengrad. Sorry I have to miss the operation.
Sinclair St. James says, "Oh, don't worry. There'll be other battles to spare."
Tch. So Sinclair was running into trouble whenever he decided that he was going to advance forward? What else was new? The IPA had always preferred to be something more of a military than it did a police force, especially when it came to their mecha force - they generally tended to be a lot more responsive and nasty than the rest of the IPA in general.
But since that Shinclair had implied that Kazuma should shown up and help out, the Alter User was willing to give the General a hand, if the fight was going to be interesting. And so the Syndicate's Chief Enforcer sits on top of a small pile of crates, a short distance away from the command center... in contact with the other people in charge here via radio - or shouting, if they're close enough.
"So what exactly is the plan here?" the brown haired, one eyed young man asks. "Rolling over the other side is always interesting, but knowing your reputation, I expect you've got something a bit more cunning than that in mind, Sinclair?"
Up in the sky. It's a bird! It's a plane!
...Actually, it is a plane. Three of them, to be precise, painted in the Belkan mercenary colors of the Geist Squadron. Three MiG-29B-12 "Fulcrum B" fighters streak towards the brewing conflict, their reflective silver bellies blending well with the grey skies.
"Geist Squadron. We're on our way." The squadron may be Belkan, but their flight lead is distinctly Yuktobanian, audible over the radio with her almost-Russian accent. She chuckles. "Safety is a relative term, General."
They fly in a tight formation, spanned into a tight wedge-shift, with Isa Reichert herself in the lead. Her blue eye scans the radar, narrowing.
"What kind of trouble will we see here? They are quiet; too quiet for liking." Despite that, she sounds like she's looking forward to trouble. Typical.
Wraith: Isa Reichert says, "What kind of trouble will we see here? They are quiet; too quiet for liking." She says that, but she sounds like she's looking forward to Trouble(tm).
Viral says, "Heh. But if they show up, you'll just shoot them down; am I right?"
Sinclair St. James says, "Expect Armored Cav, heavy Air Cav, and possibly fighters from McCord or Scott AFBs. Bombers if they get desperate."
Trouble has a habit of drawing all sorts of people. Even when it isn't happening yet. Tension is in the air. This plane is one torn apart by rampent, violent warfare. It's a fascinating thing to any such ancient machine, much less a Cybertronian with a life stretching, perhaps, billions of years into the past. To watch these frail, primitive, short-lived creatures of carbon and water kill each other so gleefully.
It's enough to make a Decepticon sob with pride.
Perhaps this is why a harmless looking Pave-Low helicopter idles on a skyscraper helipad. The engines are running at low throttle, the rotors spinning, but it is quite at rest. The pilot must have run inside to use a restroom, because he's nowhere to be seen.
Huh. In his rush, it looks like he dropped his cellphone on the tarmac.
Sinclair St. James says, "Intellegence reports that the Patriot Guard are too far away to make it to Chicago today."
Wraith: Isa Reichert laughs. "What else do you think we are here for?" Pause. "K'to? Bombers? So they would leave you nothing. Which do you want us to take priority over, if any?"
Blackout switches armor modes to Helicopter.
Sinclair St. James says, "So, we shouldn't have to worry about enemy MSTs. Plink any tanks you can hit without getting too close to the line. Any jets that show up, shoot 'em down."
Wraith: Isa Reichert seems to be itching for a good fight. "We will take care of them, da." Ancel, too. "Ja!" And Liese. "Leave it to us!"
Although General St. James has run several campaigns prior to this point, up until now Viral's only managed to assist in one of them--the others he just couldn't attend for one reason or another. He already considers his honor debt paid with that last fight, but truth be told, Viral can't be satisfied with how the last fight ended, and he intends to help his fellow DC members, even if he feels only neutral about Gen. St. James.
Thus Enkiduran stands with the General's forces, keeping it walking on the ground despite its aerial capabilities thanks to a certain warning. The pilot inside regards the rest of the military units with a watchful golden eye, but he keeps quiet for now; the others are asking the relevant questions, and Viral would rather be paying attention for incoming bogeys.
Prayer Reverie switches armor modes to Dreadnought.
General Berry's headquarters, unfortunately near one of the local helicopter landing pads, is currently in moderate disorder. But the situation may yet be excellent.
Tepet Inatera is not sitting in with the generals and colonels, though she has spoken with them and can see them from where she sits. She sits, instead, in a plain chair, leaning back in her armor and luxuriating in the relatively cool air of the poorly heated tent.
She has her daiklave resting in her lap, and set in the normally-empty depression of a Hearthstone setting is a clear spherical gem, the size of a tangerine, with a single waving line of blue through it. For now, it glows.
As she occasionally runs a dark finger over the Cabochon of the Eased Dispatch, Inatera chuckles at a radio operator's brief comment, which had passed unheard. "Don't worry, young man," she tells him. "It will all go well."
Among those units from the Black Sheep that have joined with the Loyalist forces is a unit that looks suspiciously like a Gundam - although that is not its actual designation. A suit that was long ago supposed to have been scrapped on his home plane, and had been reassembled by the Junk Guild, Prayer had been on a long term patrol in the Universal Century plane, looking for any signs of a resurgence of the STMC menace, and then taking care of some affairs at home afterwards.
Sitting in the cockpit of his mobile suit - its exterior a flat, colorless grey - Prayer looks over the controls for a moment, and sighs. "Everything is good to go here," he states. "When do you think they're going to come at us, Simon-san?" He didn't *like* to fight, but from everything he had heard through the grapevine, these Core forces were supposedly fairly ruthless. Prayer wondered what truth there was to the stories.
One of the other units alongside the Loyalist forces is a Gundam, designated and referred to as such. It's iconic to those who may recognize it, but on this plane, it may simply be a robot with an odd 'samurai mask' face. The Gundam RX-78-3 G3 has survived the STMC invasion and the effective end of the Zeon-Federal War. Although Amuro Ray is no longer officially part of the Earth Federation Forces, politics and business are strange things, and the "famous" Gundam can be used by the Anaheim Electronics test pilot when the IPA finds it necessary.
Famous as it may be, it is an outdated machine by this point, and starting to show its age from the wear and tear it's taken in battle. No amount of care by the often obsessive Newtype can stop that. Amuro pushes these concerns to the back of his mind, focusing on the mission at hand. "We're ready here," he speaks over the radio, already in the cockpit. There's an uncomfortable familiarity to this situation. Is he really back to fighting rebels on behalf of a government, again?
The CSF advances in two lines, one in front of the other. It's a terrible and fearsome sight to behold. Thousands of tons of reinforced armor and guns, bearing down on you with slow and steady purpose. The rear line stops as it comes within shelling range. The front line continues to walk, not boost, forward with General St. James himself at its center, leading from the front in his black painted mk.2 Wyvern.
In the rear line, made up mostly of artillery and support units, lumbers into firing positions. Minotaur classed artilleriest and Basilisk classed rocketters raise their terrible instruments of destruction to the sky as their pilots calculate angles. "Battery! On my command!" A Wyvern model raises its rapier into the sky to signal. "FIRE!" The rapier drops.
Hell starts to rain down on the Loyalist line. Tanks explode. Shells rip craters in the ground where men once lay waiting. Acrid smoke and the typical noise of battle fill the air. The Loyalists reply in kind, artillery opening fire with little need for the command to be given. Their efforts focus on the front line of advancing MSTs and soon shells are exploding all over the battlefield, obscuring vision with clouds of dust and smoke. Helicopters start to lift off en masse from the Loyalist positions, their rockets and heavy vulcans a credible threat to MSTs in signifigant numbers.
"Hold steady, boys." St. James radios his pilots. "Let the arties soften 'em up, then we move in and cut 'em down."
There is another machine amidst the chaos of the defenders. The Gurren-Lagann stands there, freshly repaired, with its arms crossed over its chest. Inside the cockpit, Simon has his head lowered. He still has a few bandages under his uniform; a few wounds haven't fully healed, but he can fight. He knows that much.
Behind him, a small force of Gulaparls stands. Kamina City could not spare much more - its defenses were strapped, as is. He and Rossiu had fought and argued a long time, before the Commander resolved to launch. He swallows, and looks up, as the first explosions come in. His eyes narrow, as he sees the launch beginning. "Looks like they're on their way!!" he barks over the radio.
"All right! We've gotta hold the line here!" he shouts, sucking in a breath. No time for regrets; he has to focus. "They'll have numbers, and Syndicate support to boot! We've gotta use what's on our side - spirit and guts!!"
Weak, wintry sunlight occasionally pierces the clouds, which provides excellent cover for the three mercenary aircraft. They hide in the sun to the best of their ability. Loyalist forces may have them on radar, but it means nothing in a melee like this unless they can gain visual confirmation -- which the Geists won't let them have so easily.
"Reave through their lines." Isa banks her plane gently towards the front line of the city, where Loyalist tanks are lined up (and firing) like some child's display come to life. "Fire on as many of them as you can. Peel off and come again. Save your missiles and break as many as you can reach!"
The three planes drop, the reaper's scythe on the flight lead's plane a clear contrast against its black paint. The cannons in each fighter's port wing root flare to life, raining bullets on the battlefield from an angle they may not have expected.
Such strafe runs are quite effective, and a tactic Isa seems to favor. It keeps her away from the heaviest of the fighting. The Fulcrums won't stand up to the weaponry of the more advanced MSTs, tearing through them like tissue paper. Yet the Geist planes are a formidable force, from above. It's a simple solution -- keep moving.
Well, until someone happens to chase them down, anyway. In the meantime, they'll harry the frontlines, and try to get in shots at other things whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Wraith: Isa Reichert sounds quietly distracted, likely talking to her own unit. "Reave through thier lines. Fire on as many of them as you can. Peel off and come again. Save your missiles and break as many as you can reach!"
Colonel Heinz says, "This is Heinz. We're activating the cloaking devices on the aerial mines, thirty seconds until launch."
A military helicopter is a good target for artillary. The first of the bombardment smashes a gaping hole in the side of the skyscraper below the parked Pave Low. A second shell tears a gash down the side, higher up, shattering windows and supports. The third shell explodes ... before it even hits the parked vehicle. Smoke fades around a flickering crimson 'static' for several seconds. But the chopper is still there.
The engines whine to full throttle, and it begins to lift off. ... Without a pilot. The chopper edges forward, then dives down into the streets, disappearing among the buildings. Maybe the impact jarred the throttle and it crashed itself? With all the smoke and debris, who can tell.
Inatera doesn't worry about the choppers; they're the strange mechanical noise of this war. It's not her war, but she can help. Already, she thinks, she can tell; many of the radio operators seem occasionally faintly mystified, as if they aren't expecting to have... free moments in the course of exchanging orders.
She leans back in her chair, crosses her legs, and wonders if the half-healed impaling wounds in her chest will leave scars or not.
Viral hn?
Sinclair St. James says, "We've got a pair of friendly B-2s in bound, they're going to be dropping some floating mines in over the Loyalists to blockade their airspace. We bought some cloaking devices for them."
"Here they come then," Prayer says quietly, and leans forward to push a single button on the Dreadnought's console. The Mobile Suit's eyes flash for a moment, and color just seems to bleed into the armor, a skin tight force field deploying that is the hallmark of the units carrying the Gundam operating system on Prayer's plane. With his Phase Shift armor deployed, the young boy checks to ensure that the mobile suit's reactor is all green... right.
The Dreadnought rises to its feet, holding an extremely heavy shield strapped across the back of one arm and an oversized beam rifle in the other. Prayer didn't include the Dreadnought's extra weapons pack, but that was mainly because it was somewhat useless in an atmosphere - instead, he'll just have to trust what weapons he has.
The Gundam walks up to the front line, finding a convenient building to use as partial cover, and driving its heavy shield down into the ground to form a barrier against incoming fire, and Prayer places his beam rifle on the top of the building, looking for an important target he can open fire on...
Viral hnn. "No, not that. I thought I saw something odd..."
Sinclair St. James says, "Ah."
Viral says, "One of those 'helicopters' took off without a pilot."
Viral says, "Or is that another one of your new weapons, Gen. St. James?"
Sinclair St. James says, "It's that son of a bitch Transformer. Kill it!"
Wraith: Isa Reichert says, "Liese." "Already on it, sir!"
Viral tch. "It maneuvered towards the streets. I lost sight of it when it went around the building straight ahead and to the right. Shouldn't be too far from there if you hurry."
Geist Three (that would be Liese) responds. "He's gone into the city. We can't maneuver down there -- sorry, General, you'll have to send someone else."
Sinclair St. James says, "I will reward whoever kills that thing."
Sinclair St. James says, "I don't know how, but God damn, do I want that thing's head. I don't care who does it. Just... SOMEONE kill it!"
Wraith: Isa Reichert can be heard muttering, quietly. "Damned streets." Suckered out of a reward! Silly planes.
Viral says, "I'll chase after it then. If it takes to the skies, then you can handle it then, Liese."
"Alright..." The quiet pilot of the G-3 raises a lever and presses a pedal as the Gundam rises to life, eyes illuminated yellow as it throws off the tarp on its shoulders and begins to march forward. One arm carries the heavy shield, a replacement for the one that had been lost in a previous battle; the other wields the standard pulse rifle, although the two beam sabers remain charging in the Gundam's energy pack on its back. It, too, serves as cover, marching alongside Prayer's Gundam as Amuro keeps the enemy in his sights.
He can't help but feel a little concerned for Prayer, the pilot who is much younger than even he was at the start. "Be careful, Prayer, and good luck. We'll try to provide cover fire for one another, alright?"
Liese, over the aircraft engines, "Roger! I'll keep an eye out." Isa takes over. "Ancel and Isa will handle those tanks on the front lines as best they can." Nasty little chuckle. "Turn them into scrap, da?"
The Core States artillery line falls largely silent after its first salvo. Kobold models, reloaders, run up and down the lines, resupplying to keep the bombardment going strong. Instead of the constantant rain of death and fire from the skies, it slackens to a sporadic grouping of bombardments as pilots team up to take out entrenched positions as a team. Prayer's large and imposing machine becomes a popular target for missiles, as does the now feared Gurren-Lagann. On the other side of the field, the Loyalist artillery has no such problems with keeping it's rate of fire up; a weapon's gunners can reload their own damn gun, something an MST can not do. Adding to the firepower, main battle tanks open up with their heavy cannons from their pillboxes. MSTs start to go up in flames, but the line doesn't stagger.
On the contrary, they level their rifles, auto-cannons, and sundry other weapons, opening fire in a deafening volley. The Loyalist lines start to get chewed up as the MSTs continue their inexorable assault. The G-3 finds itself under assault from autocannon fire from at least three different vectors, but this is probably something that Amuro is familiar and comfortable with. M16s and Mossberg 500s open fire at range, the infantry's fire being drawn to the tanks like lead to a magnet. Sparks fly off the outter hulls of the behemoth machines where bullets impact, rarely doing anything but superficial damage.
Far overhead, a pair of Core States B-2 bombers cut through the skies, their bomb bays open. But they aren't dropping any bombs. Odd, that.
Wraith: Isa Reichert says, "Core Bombers! We see you up there -- we will cover if you need it. In the meantime, we will take out as many ground targets as we can."
Viral is the type of man who prefers to fight on the front lines--but he's also a man who acknowledges the authority of others and obeys their orders. (If it seems like a good idea, anyway. He's significantly less obedient than he used to be.) Gen. St. James' order to hold back is heeded, though Viral frowns--then again, he frowns a lot these days--and the beastman continues to watch carefully.
It's for that reason that he sees that helicopter take off without a pilot, and that strikes Viral as distinctly odd, even with differences between planes. He mentions it on the Divine Crusaders band, but it's lost to dust and smoke soon, and there's nothing more that the beastman can do beyond that since he's not following--and now that he gets word back on what that unmanned helicopter *is*, someone else is claiming it. He looks instead to the opposite forces, and...
Eyes narrow as Viral straightens a little, unfolding his arms and resting his hands on his controls. A slow smirk creases his face. "...heh," he breathes. "So the Commander just can't get away from the battlefield. Well then--!"
But that comes to an end when Liese says she can't maneuver where that unmanned helicopter has gone, and Sinclair is sufficiently impassioned about getting its head that Viral scowls, but decides to direct Enkiduran into the city streets, in the direction where the chopper that he now knows is a 'Transformer' had gone, leaving the Loyalist forces to the Geist Squadron and the General's forces.
"SPIRAAAAAAL SHIELD!" Simon roars, as the first missiles come in. Energy crackles up around him - green light rippling and pulsing as it grasps at the skies themselves, and then balloons outward until it forms a solid dome. The missiles impact against it, exploding and vanishing in an instant. The shield holds - and it encompasses several Loyalist tanks, as well as the Gulaparls.
"So," he grins, "they want to play rough... ha!" He starts to move forward. "Let's meet them head on!! The best defense is a good offense! And let's start... with those things right THERE!"
Spiral light explodes out of the Gurren-Lagann's left arm, coalescing and twisting into the familiar drill lance. It begins to spin rapidly, and the Gurren-Lagann clutches it tightly with both hands. Simon drags it in front of him in an arch, and energy erupts out of it. A long beam, which he sweeps across a gap in the lines over a column of advancing MSTs.
"Spiraaaaaal BEAAAAAM!"
Despite the fact that Amuro - and probably a few of the other Sheep as well - were usually worried about him, Prayer is fairly upbeat. "I'm sure, as long as we stick together and be careful, Amuro-san, that we'll be fine," he responds. "But don't worry - I'll watch your back, if you can keep an eye on mine." This battlefield could get rather chaotic soon enough...
And his worries are confirmed as a swarm of missiles is launched at the young boy's position. Prayer raises his beam rifle, firing several shots in rapid succession - several of the missiles are blown to pieces in midair, and Prayer grabs his shield, engaging the thrusters on the Dreadnought Gundam's back and launching into the air. A couple of the missiles slam against his shield, and the young boy pulls back on a pair of levers just under his throttle, discharging chaff and a quartet of flares behind him. The distraction spoofs most of the missiles, but his position is blown apart by repeated hits, leaving him in the open.
The Dreadnought strikes hard on the ground, sliding for a moment. It's pilot looks to the side for a moment, and sites three of the MSTs firing on Amuro's G-3 - these he attacks with three precisely aimed beam shots, aiming at their legs to try and knock them to the ground.
When chattering increases in density, Inatera lowers her head forwards and closes her eyes. The air around her wavers for a moment as the Terrestrial magic washes out. It is, as with the Hearthstone's effect, a minor thing; however, a minor effect distributed over nearly fifty comm officers and nearby commanders may have effects far beyond the small. The Realm does not know the term 'force multiplier,' but it wasn't one dragon who conquered the world, but ten thousand.
Amuro's mind flashes almost immediately, the Gundam G-3 holding out its beam shield to deflect one line of fire before activating its thrusters to force it upwards, evading the gunfire from all three directions. For those moments before it can thrust up, however, it is peppered with ammunition, the thick armor being the saving grace of the Mobile Suit for the moment. "Roger, Prayer." The pilot keeps a cool head as he scans below him, the Gundam hovering for only a moment before it thunders back onto the ground.
The pilot whips around, and as Prayer attacks the MSTs firing at him, he turns and fires plasma from his beam rifle at the artillery machines firing missiles at the other Gundam. It keeps the shield up, weathering the fire for now as the lunar titanium armor holds up.
Loyalist helicopters take off all over the place and start to form up in the air, prepared to charge into the fray and add a hard hitting punch that the Loyalist are going to desperately need once the MSTs charge and get too close to fire the artillery at them. The scattered formations start to move forward.
A helicopter abruptly explodes for no readily appearent reason. And then another goes up in flames, followed by three more. Comm chatter starts to fly between the paniced chopper pilots, the helo formation breaking up as individual pilots start to go on evasive to dodge this unexpected and unseen assault. But it does little good.
The B-2's gain altitude, their job completed. The air is now saturated with floating mines, equiped with cloaking devices thanks to the good people at DataDyne. Anyone taking to the air over the Loyalist lines is in danger of smashing into on, or of one of the mines becoming altered to his presence and signaling the other mines in the cluster 'I got this one', locking on and moving in of it's own free will.
MSTs explode, but there are hundreds of them along the CSF lines. Even with titans of the battlefield such as the Gurren Lagann, G-3, and Dreadnaught, this is not an even fight. The infantry is starting to lose its nerve, even with Inatera's unexplained form of assistance. In some places, it's a miracle that the men haven't broken and fled. In others, there isn't much left to break and flee with.
The black Wyvern model at the middle of the Core States line points his auto-cannon forward. It's pilot, the General himself, screams out, "CHARGE!" into his radio.
The MST line starts to run and close the distance.
"OPEN FIRE!" Simon roars into the radio. The Gulaparls do that; they raise up their long rifles, and start joining their fire to the G-3's and Dreadnought's. Small lances of beam energy shoot across the plain, into the charging MSTs, as Simon watches. He grits his teeth. A super robot has to be more than a single unit.
He has to fight more than one foe, at least for now. He grunts, and starts to rush the Gurren-Lagann forward. Two drills emerge, as he sends them out of his machine's arms - and the man leaps upward. As he does, he narrowly misses hitting a cloaked mine, and then comes crashing down.
He tries to slam the Gurren-Lagann's drills into the ground. Both hit, and explode in columns of green light - whcih then explode into heavy, forecful rings that shoot outward.
"SPIIIIIIIRAL FLAAAAAAAAAASH!"
No, Simon has not met Masaki.
Somewhere in the streets, there is a noise. It is not a pleasant noise. It is not a happy noise. It is the noise of metal and glass twisting in ways not meant by any technology known on Earth. A hulking behemoth of points, metal, and iron rises in the streets of Chicago. Blackout is the monster that Viral rounds a corner to discover. The Decepticon whirls around, thrusting his left hand downards. Cannons unfold from inside his wrist, clearing debris from the barrels. His right hand removes the rotor mast from his back, locking the blades together.
Hello, Human.
As the massive Decepticon storms forward, a subtle wave expands around him. Communications black out. Radar jams. Unprotected computer systems begin to crash. It's just like New Orleans. Only this time, Blackout is pissed. The rotor blades in his hand split apart, forming a V-shape, which he thrusts at the Enkiduran's midsection almost as an afterthought as he storms past.
Blackout switches armor modes to Decepticon.
The lights go out in the tent. Inatera looks up; the Hearthstone casts its light. "Fuck."
Emergency systems kick in and desperate efforts are made to re-establish contact before too much time is lost, shouting and papers flying as the situation degrades in rapid order. The battle may not be lost, but it will not be won here, now, Inatera thinks as she rises from her seat. Instead of pressing forward, she cuts a slit in the tent and oonches out into the cold air.
She lets out a sharp, shrill whistle, walking forwards. A confused-seeming horse, still wearing Victorian brasses, comes up towards her and she leaps onto its back, content to ride without saddle for now. She pats its neck: "I should name you," she says to the horse, before grasping the brasses, jingling them, and looking around.
Hm, she reasons at the glimpse of an unusually agile war-strider... thing... moving between two mass-housing project apartment buildings. May have something to do with it. She coaxes the horse into a trot, heading down the side of a potholed street towards the clash of titans. I wonder, she thinks further, how dependent their machines ARE on this electrical substance.
Prayer doesn't have a lot of confidence in himself as being a 'giant' here - he just has a few tricks and a somewhat unique suit. But he winces for a moment as one of the helicopters explodes overhead, and he turns, looking around for a moment. "Amuro, I think that they've got the upper hand for the time being - we need to pull back and try to get out of this minefield. As long as they've got air superiority, I'm not sure we can push them back."
The Dreadnought turns on one heel, firing off blast after blast into the approaching horde of enemies. Prayer can't rely as much on precision now - he's just using suppressing fire, aiming to keep back the oncoming horde of Core MSTs while the Loyalist forces fall back. He grits his teeth for a moment, looking up for a moment. They had to try and clear a lane for the airborn forces to get out.
Viral is not human--not visually, not genetically--but that perhaps may not make much difference to Blackout.
That screeching noise, like claws of jagged metal on a hundred thousand galactic chalkboards, makes Viral grind his teeth together, breaking a few. He spits them out, new teeth growing in in their place (having shark genes makes for some terrifying and some very useless abilities), and draws his blades against the monster-robot he finds once he rounds the corner.
And why's Blackout pissed? Because he was found out too soon? Sucks to be him. Viral is fortunate at least in that his systems are run on solar energy, and so while that wave interferes with some of his radars, he is otherwise not terribly affected. This doesn't matter to the beastman anyway, who fights the enemy that is in front of him, and when Blackout stabs at him like he doesn't even care, Viral blocks the V-shaped blade with one massive two-handed sword, then slashes out with the other, moving his mech well into Inatera's sight. Viral, by contrast, has yet to notice her, but once he does, it'll occur to him right away that there's something very wrong about a woman on horseback in the middle of a heavy artillery war.
"Don't think," he growls, "you can just walk past me!"
"Right...they were really prepared for this." Amuro, here, refers to the invading forces. He's actually rather disappointed in the loyalist forces they've been assisting, but they are just ordinary soldiers, and probably scared out of their minds. They also may not be used to encountering weaponry like this. The Gundam is a relatively large target, and easily at risk among this mindfield. The Newtype uses his senses to carefully maneuver around, moving backwards and guarding the Loyalist forces as they begin to fall back. Unfortunately, this leaves the Gundam an easy target, if one can fire at it before its pilot knows.
The three Fulcrums continue their patrol of reaving, spraying a near-constant hail of gunfire on the artillery and tanks below. They manage to stay away from the air mines, cautious not to draw too close.
"There's something down there." Liese is the first to make note of the great white Gundam as it breaches the line of fire down below; it's only noticed because of its size and the bright white paint.
"Take it out!" Isa's command is a growl. "It's butchering the front lines."
All three planes swoop, banking smoothly against the gunfire to pursue the Gundam and its Newtype pilot. Gunfire opens up on the machine, and three missiles follow close behind, corkscrewing and leaving white contrails. Just as quickly, the three fighters seek to rise, before the Gundam notices.
Unfortunately, they seem to have a notorious record for being smashed in melee fights... but hopefully, they have the element of speed and surprise on their side.
You critically strike Amuro Ray with your SUDDENLY, JETS attack.
The MSTs begin what doing what they, by and large, truely excel at; close-order battle. Using short burst boosts they dodge around, surround, isolate, and destroy tanks. They tower over the intrenched infantry, leaning over the trenches and raking the soldiers below with their fifty calibur machine gun mounts. Every MST has at least one, most have two. All it takes is a single round from a fifty cal to leave a fist sized exit wound in a man wearing body armor. Two rounds properly located can saw one in half. To their credit, the artillerist man their guns to the last, often firing upon MSTs at point blank range.
One could call the Loyalists unprepared. Hovever, one could also call them out-matched. The Loyalists begin their fallback in earnst, needing no radio'd orders to tell them to get the hell out of the way of the rampaging tanks. They fall back into the city, where they will have the terrain advantage against the titanic machines. Back to their regroup and retreat point along the lake, where transport ships await to ferry them away, just in case.
With the first part of the plan completed, General St. James flicks his comms on, signaling the aquatic Hydra MSTs submerged beneath the great lake to come ashore, and for the glider equipped Empusa models to come in from the south, and the HALO jumping Seraph models to make touchdown in the city and cut off the retreat and utterly destroying the army.
Ironically, they are saved by Blackout's comms barrier; the order is never recieved.
The Hydras sit there, staring at the surface of the water.
The Empusas idle south of the city, keeping their engines warm.
The 'Hercules' transport planes carrying the Seraphs continue to fly a holding pattern.
Sin unleashes a torrent of harsh language, every third word is four letters long and begins with 'f'. In his rage, he spots the Gurren Lagann, and be blindly rushes towards it, somewhat unfairly blaming Simon for stealing an assured victory from him. He opens fire with his SMG like autocannon.
Wraith: Isa Reichert growls, over screaming aircraft engines. And gunfire. "General, we are taking down the Gundam before it destroys the front lines."
Sinclair St. James does not reply; he is currently caught in the radius of the comms blackout.
There is a quick comm blackout-irritating, and enough to leave Amuro dependent on his senses. Which pick up on incoming-what?
The planes are much faster than even the Gundam, and they score a direct hit on the G-3, pouring gunfire into it and beginning to break through its lunar titanium armor. Amuro curses softly as the alarms and warnings flash, indicating considerable damage as the mobile suit sports a sparking, smoking "wound." This is not going well, not for an older MS.
The Gundam turns its beam rifle as it aims directly at the incoming planes, beginning to fire off a series of shots from where it stands. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. The gunshots fly at the planes with stunning accuracy and timing, seemingly aimed right for where they are about to be. But will they find their target?
Amuro Ray misses Isa Reichert with his SUDDENLY, BEAM RIFLE attack.
"SINCLAIR!" Simon roars, as the communications blackout rips through the defenders' ranks as well. Just like New Orleans - and affecting both. His teeth grit, as the Gulaparl pilots behind him assist the tanks. He can see them in the rear view monitors, firing off their rifles into the approaching MST hordes. Too many enemies, too few Gulaparls.
"It's ABOUT DAMN TIME, isn't it?!" he shouts, as the SMG rounds hit the Gurren-Lagann. The rounds leave three, clean holes in the armor of the chest. Simon swings back one fist, and brings it crashing down at the Wyvern, in an attempt to knock it backward.
Then, a pair of drills erupt from the other arm of the Gurren-Lagann, flanking each wrist. "We've both been waiting for this fight!!"
"Amuro-san!" Prayer shouts, as the squadron swoops in and batters the G-3 with a barrage of missile fire. And he only gets a screech in response to his communications - something must be jamming him. Tch. The young boy runs towards the G-3, raising his beam rifle into the air as he attempts to keep track of what is going on up above. The planes are coming around now... and he needs to do something to break up their formation.
The beam rifle fires off two shots into the approaching Geist formation... and two large armor plates on the Dreadnaught's legs spring outwards, before rocketing off into the distance, attached to long cables. The turn at an angle, tracking on the planes up above - and they each fire off two extended energy blasts, the DRAGOON systems attacking from remote locations to make it appear that there are more opponents hiding out there.
WHEN: Dec 7
WHERE: Mundane Sector, Steel Union - USA
WHAT: General Sinclair St. James launches his eastward push. IPA defenders and Syndicate offensives step up to duke it out over the fate of the Windy City.
WATCH FOR: Simon and Sinclair hold an Epic Mech Battle, two Gundams and three MiG-29B-12 "Fulcrum-B" fighters duke it out, Viral and Blackout trade fours, and Inatera proves that yes, horse-mounted cavalry can go toe to toe against big nasty machines.
TAGS NEEDED: Isa Reichert
Steel Union - USA
Welcome to the United States. Welcome to a nation at war with itself.
America is in the middle of it's second civil war. Increasing political divisions have lead to several Midwest States declaring Consitutionally justified revolution against the corrupt government. Lead by the traitorus General Sinclair St. James, the Core States Union has struck first and decisively, using their Mechanized Standing Tanks to all but cripple the Patriot Guard.
The survivors of the Patriot Guard, lead by Major John Rodgers, now fight a desperate battle against an enemy that has them out numbered, out gunned, and out maneuvered. Worst of all, General St. James has just launched his campaign to end the war once and for all... a massive push towards the capitol, Washington DC!
Contents:
Tepet Inatera
Blackout
Prayer Reverie
Amuro Ray
Viral
Simon
Sinclair St. James
Tepet Inatera fully heals Tepet Inatera with her Sleep cures all wounds! action.
Tepet Inatera hits Tepet Inatera with her Or does it attack.
You fully heal Isa Reichert with your oopth action.
You have been resurrected from knockout!
Tepet Inatera hits Tepet Inatera with her Well, close enough jab.
Simon fully heals Simon with his whoops action.
The Loyalists have turned out in force. The top brass want Chicago to hold for several very important reasons. This is Sinclair's first big 'push' eastward. Since he took command of the CSU, the rogue General has been consolidating and fortifying his holdings. This is his offensive. The Brass want it stalled before it can gain momentum. Chicago's strategic importance due to its location on the Great Lakes and its proximity to the Mississippi can not be overlooked, either. But also, the lost of Naval Station Great Lakes in North Chicago would be a nigh fatal blow to the Loyalist defence effort.
The loss of Lackland AFB in San Antonio a week ago has already sent ripples through the Air Force... and raised questions as to whether or not the Air Force is going to have a place to train new Airmen by the end of the war. Great Lakes is to the Navy what Lackland is to the Air Force... it's only Basic Military Training camp. The Commander has held back two graduating cycles from shipping out to their advance training posts in order to send a little over two thousand Mossberg 500 qualified Sailors to the network of hastily constructed trenches and bunkers outside of the city. The new graduates are nervous. None of them have practical experience. Some don't have body armor. Some don't have weapons yet.
The Core States Forces arrived outside of the city yesterday and have waited before charging, gathering their force and drawing up a battle plan. The Loyalists have, ironically, counted this delay as a blessing, giving them more time to entrench into the suburbs outside the city, fortify their artillery batteries, and get every rifle wielding man then can to Chicago.
The gap between the two forces is quiet, civilians having gotten out of the way from between the two forces any way that they could. The Loyalist line is silent, nervous.
The Core line, however, gets a whole lot louder as it's MSTs start to advance. The rumbling of the tanks footfalls back be felt along the Loyalist line, doing little to help sooth their nerves.
Sinclair St. James says, "All units, move out."
Sinclair St. James says, "Be advised, the air-space over the Loyalist line will not, repeat, not be safe in three minutes, so keep flying mechs grounded or at least at high altitude."
Wraith: Isa Reichert transmits the sound of aircraft engines. "Geist Squadron. We're on our way. Heh, heh. Safety is a relative term, General."
Viral says, "Understood."
Lapis clang, "Ow! .. My Kaempfer is still under repairs, and the Qubeley is still in Eisengrad. Sorry I have to miss the operation.
Sinclair St. James says, "Oh, don't worry. There'll be other battles to spare."
Tch. So Sinclair was running into trouble whenever he decided that he was going to advance forward? What else was new? The IPA had always preferred to be something more of a military than it did a police force, especially when it came to their mecha force - they generally tended to be a lot more responsive and nasty than the rest of the IPA in general.
But since that Shinclair had implied that Kazuma should shown up and help out, the Alter User was willing to give the General a hand, if the fight was going to be interesting. And so the Syndicate's Chief Enforcer sits on top of a small pile of crates, a short distance away from the command center... in contact with the other people in charge here via radio - or shouting, if they're close enough.
"So what exactly is the plan here?" the brown haired, one eyed young man asks. "Rolling over the other side is always interesting, but knowing your reputation, I expect you've got something a bit more cunning than that in mind, Sinclair?"
Up in the sky. It's a bird! It's a plane!
...Actually, it is a plane. Three of them, to be precise, painted in the Belkan mercenary colors of the Geist Squadron. Three MiG-29B-12 "Fulcrum B" fighters streak towards the brewing conflict, their reflective silver bellies blending well with the grey skies.
"Geist Squadron. We're on our way." The squadron may be Belkan, but their flight lead is distinctly Yuktobanian, audible over the radio with her almost-Russian accent. She chuckles. "Safety is a relative term, General."
They fly in a tight formation, spanned into a tight wedge-shift, with Isa Reichert herself in the lead. Her blue eye scans the radar, narrowing.
"What kind of trouble will we see here? They are quiet; too quiet for liking." Despite that, she sounds like she's looking forward to trouble. Typical.
Wraith: Isa Reichert says, "What kind of trouble will we see here? They are quiet; too quiet for liking." She says that, but she sounds like she's looking forward to Trouble(tm).
Viral says, "Heh. But if they show up, you'll just shoot them down; am I right?"
Sinclair St. James says, "Expect Armored Cav, heavy Air Cav, and possibly fighters from McCord or Scott AFBs. Bombers if they get desperate."
Trouble has a habit of drawing all sorts of people. Even when it isn't happening yet. Tension is in the air. This plane is one torn apart by rampent, violent warfare. It's a fascinating thing to any such ancient machine, much less a Cybertronian with a life stretching, perhaps, billions of years into the past. To watch these frail, primitive, short-lived creatures of carbon and water kill each other so gleefully.
It's enough to make a Decepticon sob with pride.
Perhaps this is why a harmless looking Pave-Low helicopter idles on a skyscraper helipad. The engines are running at low throttle, the rotors spinning, but it is quite at rest. The pilot must have run inside to use a restroom, because he's nowhere to be seen.
Huh. In his rush, it looks like he dropped his cellphone on the tarmac.
Sinclair St. James says, "Intellegence reports that the Patriot Guard are too far away to make it to Chicago today."
Wraith: Isa Reichert laughs. "What else do you think we are here for?" Pause. "K'to? Bombers? So they would leave you nothing. Which do you want us to take priority over, if any?"
Blackout switches armor modes to Helicopter.
Sinclair St. James says, "So, we shouldn't have to worry about enemy MSTs. Plink any tanks you can hit without getting too close to the line. Any jets that show up, shoot 'em down."
Wraith: Isa Reichert seems to be itching for a good fight. "We will take care of them, da." Ancel, too. "Ja!" And Liese. "Leave it to us!"
Although General St. James has run several campaigns prior to this point, up until now Viral's only managed to assist in one of them--the others he just couldn't attend for one reason or another. He already considers his honor debt paid with that last fight, but truth be told, Viral can't be satisfied with how the last fight ended, and he intends to help his fellow DC members, even if he feels only neutral about Gen. St. James.
Thus Enkiduran stands with the General's forces, keeping it walking on the ground despite its aerial capabilities thanks to a certain warning. The pilot inside regards the rest of the military units with a watchful golden eye, but he keeps quiet for now; the others are asking the relevant questions, and Viral would rather be paying attention for incoming bogeys.
Prayer Reverie switches armor modes to Dreadnought.
General Berry's headquarters, unfortunately near one of the local helicopter landing pads, is currently in moderate disorder. But the situation may yet be excellent.
Tepet Inatera is not sitting in with the generals and colonels, though she has spoken with them and can see them from where she sits. She sits, instead, in a plain chair, leaning back in her armor and luxuriating in the relatively cool air of the poorly heated tent.
She has her daiklave resting in her lap, and set in the normally-empty depression of a Hearthstone setting is a clear spherical gem, the size of a tangerine, with a single waving line of blue through it. For now, it glows.
As she occasionally runs a dark finger over the Cabochon of the Eased Dispatch, Inatera chuckles at a radio operator's brief comment, which had passed unheard. "Don't worry, young man," she tells him. "It will all go well."
Among those units from the Black Sheep that have joined with the Loyalist forces is a unit that looks suspiciously like a Gundam - although that is not its actual designation. A suit that was long ago supposed to have been scrapped on his home plane, and had been reassembled by the Junk Guild, Prayer had been on a long term patrol in the Universal Century plane, looking for any signs of a resurgence of the STMC menace, and then taking care of some affairs at home afterwards.
Sitting in the cockpit of his mobile suit - its exterior a flat, colorless grey - Prayer looks over the controls for a moment, and sighs. "Everything is good to go here," he states. "When do you think they're going to come at us, Simon-san?" He didn't *like* to fight, but from everything he had heard through the grapevine, these Core forces were supposedly fairly ruthless. Prayer wondered what truth there was to the stories.
One of the other units alongside the Loyalist forces is a Gundam, designated and referred to as such. It's iconic to those who may recognize it, but on this plane, it may simply be a robot with an odd 'samurai mask' face. The Gundam RX-78-3 G3 has survived the STMC invasion and the effective end of the Zeon-Federal War. Although Amuro Ray is no longer officially part of the Earth Federation Forces, politics and business are strange things, and the "famous" Gundam can be used by the Anaheim Electronics test pilot when the IPA finds it necessary.
Famous as it may be, it is an outdated machine by this point, and starting to show its age from the wear and tear it's taken in battle. No amount of care by the often obsessive Newtype can stop that. Amuro pushes these concerns to the back of his mind, focusing on the mission at hand. "We're ready here," he speaks over the radio, already in the cockpit. There's an uncomfortable familiarity to this situation. Is he really back to fighting rebels on behalf of a government, again?
The CSF advances in two lines, one in front of the other. It's a terrible and fearsome sight to behold. Thousands of tons of reinforced armor and guns, bearing down on you with slow and steady purpose. The rear line stops as it comes within shelling range. The front line continues to walk, not boost, forward with General St. James himself at its center, leading from the front in his black painted mk.2 Wyvern.
In the rear line, made up mostly of artillery and support units, lumbers into firing positions. Minotaur classed artilleriest and Basilisk classed rocketters raise their terrible instruments of destruction to the sky as their pilots calculate angles. "Battery! On my command!" A Wyvern model raises its rapier into the sky to signal. "FIRE!" The rapier drops.
Hell starts to rain down on the Loyalist line. Tanks explode. Shells rip craters in the ground where men once lay waiting. Acrid smoke and the typical noise of battle fill the air. The Loyalists reply in kind, artillery opening fire with little need for the command to be given. Their efforts focus on the front line of advancing MSTs and soon shells are exploding all over the battlefield, obscuring vision with clouds of dust and smoke. Helicopters start to lift off en masse from the Loyalist positions, their rockets and heavy vulcans a credible threat to MSTs in signifigant numbers.
"Hold steady, boys." St. James radios his pilots. "Let the arties soften 'em up, then we move in and cut 'em down."
There is another machine amidst the chaos of the defenders. The Gurren-Lagann stands there, freshly repaired, with its arms crossed over its chest. Inside the cockpit, Simon has his head lowered. He still has a few bandages under his uniform; a few wounds haven't fully healed, but he can fight. He knows that much.
Behind him, a small force of Gulaparls stands. Kamina City could not spare much more - its defenses were strapped, as is. He and Rossiu had fought and argued a long time, before the Commander resolved to launch. He swallows, and looks up, as the first explosions come in. His eyes narrow, as he sees the launch beginning. "Looks like they're on their way!!" he barks over the radio.
"All right! We've gotta hold the line here!" he shouts, sucking in a breath. No time for regrets; he has to focus. "They'll have numbers, and Syndicate support to boot! We've gotta use what's on our side - spirit and guts!!"
Weak, wintry sunlight occasionally pierces the clouds, which provides excellent cover for the three mercenary aircraft. They hide in the sun to the best of their ability. Loyalist forces may have them on radar, but it means nothing in a melee like this unless they can gain visual confirmation -- which the Geists won't let them have so easily.
"Reave through their lines." Isa banks her plane gently towards the front line of the city, where Loyalist tanks are lined up (and firing) like some child's display come to life. "Fire on as many of them as you can. Peel off and come again. Save your missiles and break as many as you can reach!"
The three planes drop, the reaper's scythe on the flight lead's plane a clear contrast against its black paint. The cannons in each fighter's port wing root flare to life, raining bullets on the battlefield from an angle they may not have expected.
Such strafe runs are quite effective, and a tactic Isa seems to favor. It keeps her away from the heaviest of the fighting. The Fulcrums won't stand up to the weaponry of the more advanced MSTs, tearing through them like tissue paper. Yet the Geist planes are a formidable force, from above. It's a simple solution -- keep moving.
Well, until someone happens to chase them down, anyway. In the meantime, they'll harry the frontlines, and try to get in shots at other things whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Wraith: Isa Reichert sounds quietly distracted, likely talking to her own unit. "Reave through thier lines. Fire on as many of them as you can. Peel off and come again. Save your missiles and break as many as you can reach!"
Colonel Heinz says, "This is Heinz. We're activating the cloaking devices on the aerial mines, thirty seconds until launch."
A military helicopter is a good target for artillary. The first of the bombardment smashes a gaping hole in the side of the skyscraper below the parked Pave Low. A second shell tears a gash down the side, higher up, shattering windows and supports. The third shell explodes ... before it even hits the parked vehicle. Smoke fades around a flickering crimson 'static' for several seconds. But the chopper is still there.
The engines whine to full throttle, and it begins to lift off. ... Without a pilot. The chopper edges forward, then dives down into the streets, disappearing among the buildings. Maybe the impact jarred the throttle and it crashed itself? With all the smoke and debris, who can tell.
Inatera doesn't worry about the choppers; they're the strange mechanical noise of this war. It's not her war, but she can help. Already, she thinks, she can tell; many of the radio operators seem occasionally faintly mystified, as if they aren't expecting to have... free moments in the course of exchanging orders.
She leans back in her chair, crosses her legs, and wonders if the half-healed impaling wounds in her chest will leave scars or not.
Viral hn?
Sinclair St. James says, "We've got a pair of friendly B-2s in bound, they're going to be dropping some floating mines in over the Loyalists to blockade their airspace. We bought some cloaking devices for them."
"Here they come then," Prayer says quietly, and leans forward to push a single button on the Dreadnought's console. The Mobile Suit's eyes flash for a moment, and color just seems to bleed into the armor, a skin tight force field deploying that is the hallmark of the units carrying the Gundam operating system on Prayer's plane. With his Phase Shift armor deployed, the young boy checks to ensure that the mobile suit's reactor is all green... right.
The Dreadnought rises to its feet, holding an extremely heavy shield strapped across the back of one arm and an oversized beam rifle in the other. Prayer didn't include the Dreadnought's extra weapons pack, but that was mainly because it was somewhat useless in an atmosphere - instead, he'll just have to trust what weapons he has.
The Gundam walks up to the front line, finding a convenient building to use as partial cover, and driving its heavy shield down into the ground to form a barrier against incoming fire, and Prayer places his beam rifle on the top of the building, looking for an important target he can open fire on...
Viral hnn. "No, not that. I thought I saw something odd..."
Sinclair St. James says, "Ah."
Viral says, "One of those 'helicopters' took off without a pilot."
Viral says, "Or is that another one of your new weapons, Gen. St. James?"
Sinclair St. James says, "It's that son of a bitch Transformer. Kill it!"
Wraith: Isa Reichert says, "Liese." "Already on it, sir!"
Viral tch. "It maneuvered towards the streets. I lost sight of it when it went around the building straight ahead and to the right. Shouldn't be too far from there if you hurry."
Geist Three (that would be Liese) responds. "He's gone into the city. We can't maneuver down there -- sorry, General, you'll have to send someone else."
Sinclair St. James says, "I will reward whoever kills that thing."
Sinclair St. James says, "I don't know how, but God damn, do I want that thing's head. I don't care who does it. Just... SOMEONE kill it!"
Wraith: Isa Reichert can be heard muttering, quietly. "Damned streets." Suckered out of a reward! Silly planes.
Viral says, "I'll chase after it then. If it takes to the skies, then you can handle it then, Liese."
"Alright..." The quiet pilot of the G-3 raises a lever and presses a pedal as the Gundam rises to life, eyes illuminated yellow as it throws off the tarp on its shoulders and begins to march forward. One arm carries the heavy shield, a replacement for the one that had been lost in a previous battle; the other wields the standard pulse rifle, although the two beam sabers remain charging in the Gundam's energy pack on its back. It, too, serves as cover, marching alongside Prayer's Gundam as Amuro keeps the enemy in his sights.
He can't help but feel a little concerned for Prayer, the pilot who is much younger than even he was at the start. "Be careful, Prayer, and good luck. We'll try to provide cover fire for one another, alright?"
Liese, over the aircraft engines, "Roger! I'll keep an eye out." Isa takes over. "Ancel and Isa will handle those tanks on the front lines as best they can." Nasty little chuckle. "Turn them into scrap, da?"
The Core States artillery line falls largely silent after its first salvo. Kobold models, reloaders, run up and down the lines, resupplying to keep the bombardment going strong. Instead of the constantant rain of death and fire from the skies, it slackens to a sporadic grouping of bombardments as pilots team up to take out entrenched positions as a team. Prayer's large and imposing machine becomes a popular target for missiles, as does the now feared Gurren-Lagann. On the other side of the field, the Loyalist artillery has no such problems with keeping it's rate of fire up; a weapon's gunners can reload their own damn gun, something an MST can not do. Adding to the firepower, main battle tanks open up with their heavy cannons from their pillboxes. MSTs start to go up in flames, but the line doesn't stagger.
On the contrary, they level their rifles, auto-cannons, and sundry other weapons, opening fire in a deafening volley. The Loyalist lines start to get chewed up as the MSTs continue their inexorable assault. The G-3 finds itself under assault from autocannon fire from at least three different vectors, but this is probably something that Amuro is familiar and comfortable with. M16s and Mossberg 500s open fire at range, the infantry's fire being drawn to the tanks like lead to a magnet. Sparks fly off the outter hulls of the behemoth machines where bullets impact, rarely doing anything but superficial damage.
Far overhead, a pair of Core States B-2 bombers cut through the skies, their bomb bays open. But they aren't dropping any bombs. Odd, that.
Wraith: Isa Reichert says, "Core Bombers! We see you up there -- we will cover if you need it. In the meantime, we will take out as many ground targets as we can."
Viral is the type of man who prefers to fight on the front lines--but he's also a man who acknowledges the authority of others and obeys their orders. (If it seems like a good idea, anyway. He's significantly less obedient than he used to be.) Gen. St. James' order to hold back is heeded, though Viral frowns--then again, he frowns a lot these days--and the beastman continues to watch carefully.
It's for that reason that he sees that helicopter take off without a pilot, and that strikes Viral as distinctly odd, even with differences between planes. He mentions it on the Divine Crusaders band, but it's lost to dust and smoke soon, and there's nothing more that the beastman can do beyond that since he's not following--and now that he gets word back on what that unmanned helicopter *is*, someone else is claiming it. He looks instead to the opposite forces, and...
Eyes narrow as Viral straightens a little, unfolding his arms and resting his hands on his controls. A slow smirk creases his face. "...heh," he breathes. "So the Commander just can't get away from the battlefield. Well then--!"
But that comes to an end when Liese says she can't maneuver where that unmanned helicopter has gone, and Sinclair is sufficiently impassioned about getting its head that Viral scowls, but decides to direct Enkiduran into the city streets, in the direction where the chopper that he now knows is a 'Transformer' had gone, leaving the Loyalist forces to the Geist Squadron and the General's forces.
"SPIRAAAAAAL SHIELD!" Simon roars, as the first missiles come in. Energy crackles up around him - green light rippling and pulsing as it grasps at the skies themselves, and then balloons outward until it forms a solid dome. The missiles impact against it, exploding and vanishing in an instant. The shield holds - and it encompasses several Loyalist tanks, as well as the Gulaparls.
"So," he grins, "they want to play rough... ha!" He starts to move forward. "Let's meet them head on!! The best defense is a good offense! And let's start... with those things right THERE!"
Spiral light explodes out of the Gurren-Lagann's left arm, coalescing and twisting into the familiar drill lance. It begins to spin rapidly, and the Gurren-Lagann clutches it tightly with both hands. Simon drags it in front of him in an arch, and energy erupts out of it. A long beam, which he sweeps across a gap in the lines over a column of advancing MSTs.
"Spiraaaaaal BEAAAAAM!"
Despite the fact that Amuro - and probably a few of the other Sheep as well - were usually worried about him, Prayer is fairly upbeat. "I'm sure, as long as we stick together and be careful, Amuro-san, that we'll be fine," he responds. "But don't worry - I'll watch your back, if you can keep an eye on mine." This battlefield could get rather chaotic soon enough...
And his worries are confirmed as a swarm of missiles is launched at the young boy's position. Prayer raises his beam rifle, firing several shots in rapid succession - several of the missiles are blown to pieces in midair, and Prayer grabs his shield, engaging the thrusters on the Dreadnought Gundam's back and launching into the air. A couple of the missiles slam against his shield, and the young boy pulls back on a pair of levers just under his throttle, discharging chaff and a quartet of flares behind him. The distraction spoofs most of the missiles, but his position is blown apart by repeated hits, leaving him in the open.
The Dreadnought strikes hard on the ground, sliding for a moment. It's pilot looks to the side for a moment, and sites three of the MSTs firing on Amuro's G-3 - these he attacks with three precisely aimed beam shots, aiming at their legs to try and knock them to the ground.
When chattering increases in density, Inatera lowers her head forwards and closes her eyes. The air around her wavers for a moment as the Terrestrial magic washes out. It is, as with the Hearthstone's effect, a minor thing; however, a minor effect distributed over nearly fifty comm officers and nearby commanders may have effects far beyond the small. The Realm does not know the term 'force multiplier,' but it wasn't one dragon who conquered the world, but ten thousand.
Amuro's mind flashes almost immediately, the Gundam G-3 holding out its beam shield to deflect one line of fire before activating its thrusters to force it upwards, evading the gunfire from all three directions. For those moments before it can thrust up, however, it is peppered with ammunition, the thick armor being the saving grace of the Mobile Suit for the moment. "Roger, Prayer." The pilot keeps a cool head as he scans below him, the Gundam hovering for only a moment before it thunders back onto the ground.
The pilot whips around, and as Prayer attacks the MSTs firing at him, he turns and fires plasma from his beam rifle at the artillery machines firing missiles at the other Gundam. It keeps the shield up, weathering the fire for now as the lunar titanium armor holds up.
Loyalist helicopters take off all over the place and start to form up in the air, prepared to charge into the fray and add a hard hitting punch that the Loyalist are going to desperately need once the MSTs charge and get too close to fire the artillery at them. The scattered formations start to move forward.
A helicopter abruptly explodes for no readily appearent reason. And then another goes up in flames, followed by three more. Comm chatter starts to fly between the paniced chopper pilots, the helo formation breaking up as individual pilots start to go on evasive to dodge this unexpected and unseen assault. But it does little good.
The B-2's gain altitude, their job completed. The air is now saturated with floating mines, equiped with cloaking devices thanks to the good people at DataDyne. Anyone taking to the air over the Loyalist lines is in danger of smashing into on, or of one of the mines becoming altered to his presence and signaling the other mines in the cluster 'I got this one', locking on and moving in of it's own free will.
MSTs explode, but there are hundreds of them along the CSF lines. Even with titans of the battlefield such as the Gurren Lagann, G-3, and Dreadnaught, this is not an even fight. The infantry is starting to lose its nerve, even with Inatera's unexplained form of assistance. In some places, it's a miracle that the men haven't broken and fled. In others, there isn't much left to break and flee with.
The black Wyvern model at the middle of the Core States line points his auto-cannon forward. It's pilot, the General himself, screams out, "CHARGE!" into his radio.
The MST line starts to run and close the distance.
"OPEN FIRE!" Simon roars into the radio. The Gulaparls do that; they raise up their long rifles, and start joining their fire to the G-3's and Dreadnought's. Small lances of beam energy shoot across the plain, into the charging MSTs, as Simon watches. He grits his teeth. A super robot has to be more than a single unit.
He has to fight more than one foe, at least for now. He grunts, and starts to rush the Gurren-Lagann forward. Two drills emerge, as he sends them out of his machine's arms - and the man leaps upward. As he does, he narrowly misses hitting a cloaked mine, and then comes crashing down.
He tries to slam the Gurren-Lagann's drills into the ground. Both hit, and explode in columns of green light - whcih then explode into heavy, forecful rings that shoot outward.
"SPIIIIIIIRAL FLAAAAAAAAAASH!"
No, Simon has not met Masaki.
Somewhere in the streets, there is a noise. It is not a pleasant noise. It is not a happy noise. It is the noise of metal and glass twisting in ways not meant by any technology known on Earth. A hulking behemoth of points, metal, and iron rises in the streets of Chicago. Blackout is the monster that Viral rounds a corner to discover. The Decepticon whirls around, thrusting his left hand downards. Cannons unfold from inside his wrist, clearing debris from the barrels. His right hand removes the rotor mast from his back, locking the blades together.
Hello, Human.
As the massive Decepticon storms forward, a subtle wave expands around him. Communications black out. Radar jams. Unprotected computer systems begin to crash. It's just like New Orleans. Only this time, Blackout is pissed. The rotor blades in his hand split apart, forming a V-shape, which he thrusts at the Enkiduran's midsection almost as an afterthought as he storms past.
Blackout switches armor modes to Decepticon.
The lights go out in the tent. Inatera looks up; the Hearthstone casts its light. "Fuck."
Emergency systems kick in and desperate efforts are made to re-establish contact before too much time is lost, shouting and papers flying as the situation degrades in rapid order. The battle may not be lost, but it will not be won here, now, Inatera thinks as she rises from her seat. Instead of pressing forward, she cuts a slit in the tent and oonches out into the cold air.
She lets out a sharp, shrill whistle, walking forwards. A confused-seeming horse, still wearing Victorian brasses, comes up towards her and she leaps onto its back, content to ride without saddle for now. She pats its neck: "I should name you," she says to the horse, before grasping the brasses, jingling them, and looking around.
Hm, she reasons at the glimpse of an unusually agile war-strider... thing... moving between two mass-housing project apartment buildings. May have something to do with it. She coaxes the horse into a trot, heading down the side of a potholed street towards the clash of titans. I wonder, she thinks further, how dependent their machines ARE on this electrical substance.
Prayer doesn't have a lot of confidence in himself as being a 'giant' here - he just has a few tricks and a somewhat unique suit. But he winces for a moment as one of the helicopters explodes overhead, and he turns, looking around for a moment. "Amuro, I think that they've got the upper hand for the time being - we need to pull back and try to get out of this minefield. As long as they've got air superiority, I'm not sure we can push them back."
The Dreadnought turns on one heel, firing off blast after blast into the approaching horde of enemies. Prayer can't rely as much on precision now - he's just using suppressing fire, aiming to keep back the oncoming horde of Core MSTs while the Loyalist forces fall back. He grits his teeth for a moment, looking up for a moment. They had to try and clear a lane for the airborn forces to get out.
Viral is not human--not visually, not genetically--but that perhaps may not make much difference to Blackout.
That screeching noise, like claws of jagged metal on a hundred thousand galactic chalkboards, makes Viral grind his teeth together, breaking a few. He spits them out, new teeth growing in in their place (having shark genes makes for some terrifying and some very useless abilities), and draws his blades against the monster-robot he finds once he rounds the corner.
And why's Blackout pissed? Because he was found out too soon? Sucks to be him. Viral is fortunate at least in that his systems are run on solar energy, and so while that wave interferes with some of his radars, he is otherwise not terribly affected. This doesn't matter to the beastman anyway, who fights the enemy that is in front of him, and when Blackout stabs at him like he doesn't even care, Viral blocks the V-shaped blade with one massive two-handed sword, then slashes out with the other, moving his mech well into Inatera's sight. Viral, by contrast, has yet to notice her, but once he does, it'll occur to him right away that there's something very wrong about a woman on horseback in the middle of a heavy artillery war.
"Don't think," he growls, "you can just walk past me!"
"Right...they were really prepared for this." Amuro, here, refers to the invading forces. He's actually rather disappointed in the loyalist forces they've been assisting, but they are just ordinary soldiers, and probably scared out of their minds. They also may not be used to encountering weaponry like this. The Gundam is a relatively large target, and easily at risk among this mindfield. The Newtype uses his senses to carefully maneuver around, moving backwards and guarding the Loyalist forces as they begin to fall back. Unfortunately, this leaves the Gundam an easy target, if one can fire at it before its pilot knows.
The three Fulcrums continue their patrol of reaving, spraying a near-constant hail of gunfire on the artillery and tanks below. They manage to stay away from the air mines, cautious not to draw too close.
"There's something down there." Liese is the first to make note of the great white Gundam as it breaches the line of fire down below; it's only noticed because of its size and the bright white paint.
"Take it out!" Isa's command is a growl. "It's butchering the front lines."
All three planes swoop, banking smoothly against the gunfire to pursue the Gundam and its Newtype pilot. Gunfire opens up on the machine, and three missiles follow close behind, corkscrewing and leaving white contrails. Just as quickly, the three fighters seek to rise, before the Gundam notices.
Unfortunately, they seem to have a notorious record for being smashed in melee fights... but hopefully, they have the element of speed and surprise on their side.
You critically strike Amuro Ray with your SUDDENLY, JETS attack.
The MSTs begin what doing what they, by and large, truely excel at; close-order battle. Using short burst boosts they dodge around, surround, isolate, and destroy tanks. They tower over the intrenched infantry, leaning over the trenches and raking the soldiers below with their fifty calibur machine gun mounts. Every MST has at least one, most have two. All it takes is a single round from a fifty cal to leave a fist sized exit wound in a man wearing body armor. Two rounds properly located can saw one in half. To their credit, the artillerist man their guns to the last, often firing upon MSTs at point blank range.
One could call the Loyalists unprepared. Hovever, one could also call them out-matched. The Loyalists begin their fallback in earnst, needing no radio'd orders to tell them to get the hell out of the way of the rampaging tanks. They fall back into the city, where they will have the terrain advantage against the titanic machines. Back to their regroup and retreat point along the lake, where transport ships await to ferry them away, just in case.
With the first part of the plan completed, General St. James flicks his comms on, signaling the aquatic Hydra MSTs submerged beneath the great lake to come ashore, and for the glider equipped Empusa models to come in from the south, and the HALO jumping Seraph models to make touchdown in the city and cut off the retreat and utterly destroying the army.
Ironically, they are saved by Blackout's comms barrier; the order is never recieved.
The Hydras sit there, staring at the surface of the water.
The Empusas idle south of the city, keeping their engines warm.
The 'Hercules' transport planes carrying the Seraphs continue to fly a holding pattern.
Sin unleashes a torrent of harsh language, every third word is four letters long and begins with 'f'. In his rage, he spots the Gurren Lagann, and be blindly rushes towards it, somewhat unfairly blaming Simon for stealing an assured victory from him. He opens fire with his SMG like autocannon.
Wraith: Isa Reichert growls, over screaming aircraft engines. And gunfire. "General, we are taking down the Gundam before it destroys the front lines."
Sinclair St. James does not reply; he is currently caught in the radius of the comms blackout.
There is a quick comm blackout-irritating, and enough to leave Amuro dependent on his senses. Which pick up on incoming-what?
The planes are much faster than even the Gundam, and they score a direct hit on the G-3, pouring gunfire into it and beginning to break through its lunar titanium armor. Amuro curses softly as the alarms and warnings flash, indicating considerable damage as the mobile suit sports a sparking, smoking "wound." This is not going well, not for an older MS.
The Gundam turns its beam rifle as it aims directly at the incoming planes, beginning to fire off a series of shots from where it stands. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. The gunshots fly at the planes with stunning accuracy and timing, seemingly aimed right for where they are about to be. But will they find their target?
Amuro Ray misses Isa Reichert with his SUDDENLY, BEAM RIFLE attack.
"SINCLAIR!" Simon roars, as the communications blackout rips through the defenders' ranks as well. Just like New Orleans - and affecting both. His teeth grit, as the Gulaparl pilots behind him assist the tanks. He can see them in the rear view monitors, firing off their rifles into the approaching MST hordes. Too many enemies, too few Gulaparls.
"It's ABOUT DAMN TIME, isn't it?!" he shouts, as the SMG rounds hit the Gurren-Lagann. The rounds leave three, clean holes in the armor of the chest. Simon swings back one fist, and brings it crashing down at the Wyvern, in an attempt to knock it backward.
Then, a pair of drills erupt from the other arm of the Gurren-Lagann, flanking each wrist. "We've both been waiting for this fight!!"
"Amuro-san!" Prayer shouts, as the squadron swoops in and batters the G-3 with a barrage of missile fire. And he only gets a screech in response to his communications - something must be jamming him. Tch. The young boy runs towards the G-3, raising his beam rifle into the air as he attempts to keep track of what is going on up above. The planes are coming around now... and he needs to do something to break up their formation.
The beam rifle fires off two shots into the approaching Geist formation... and two large armor plates on the Dreadnaught's legs spring outwards, before rocketing off into the distance, attached to long cables. The turn at an angle, tracking on the planes up above - and they each fire off two extended energy blasts, the DRAGOON systems attacking from remote locations to make it appear that there are more opponents hiding out there.