It Ain't the Size of the Dog in the Fight (2)
While I ponder for a few seconds on my options, I assume a strategic hull down position in front of a vital resource. Several bags of candy had been dropped by fleeing denizens of Sunnydale. They require guarding. Sweet, sweet delicious candy.
Mmmmmm.
Focus! I am a BOLO Unit of the Line! I cannot be helpless in the face of this unusual threat. My problem appears to be one of target selection and less than lethal force. Many inhabitants appear to have been transformed into monsters and other characters. Possibly yet another rogue thaumatological effect from the dimensional breech beneath this town. And who builds a colony on top of a Hellmouth? I mean, "come live with Satan" doesn't exactly sing.
Okay. A foot tall, and likely weapons power has been scaled down in a similar manner. That does leave me with a Hellbore that can reduce any main battle tank to so much slag, ion bolt infinite repeaters that can cut humans in two, a VLS system with potent conventional and even thermonuclear warheads. Which is complete overkill. Granted, that's the entire point of a BOLO. But I find myself momentarily stymied by the need for a less than lethal option.
Hold on. Mortars. It is the matter of milliseconds to assess the munition store for what would have been several 30 cm mortars.
This should be useful...
*****
Okay. Illumination and smoke rounds loaded in mortars. Hellbore and ion bolts arrays charged but on safe. I should be good. Now, I must venture forth to drive off the transformed "monsters." But...that means leaving behind the delicious candy.
I waste several uncharacteristic seconds dithering until core programming drives me out.
One block east, I see several normal humans being attacked by an array of monsterized humans. Full battle awareness descends on me. For the Honour of the Reg-- OH GOD NO A CLOWN A CLOWN HIDE!
I...make an entirely justified retreat under a parked car to consider my options.
Yeah.
It's just a clown. With the capering and the dead white face and the grin the grin that says I will eat you and suck the marrow of your bones and torment your soul in the depths of hell with balloon animals.
*ahem*
I...advance with all due caution.
Don't look at the clown don't look at the clown.
My mortars fire a barrage of smoke and illumination rounds. Several explosive shells land in a precise pattern at a safe distance to minimize shrapnel effects. The combination of noise, smoke, and light disorients attackers, giving the victims enough time to flee for the safety of nearby homes. Painfully loud white noise blares from my external speakers. Charging forward into their midst, I scatter the transformed humans and--
THE CLOWN!
FROM HELL'S HEART I STAB AT THEE!
Engage contra grav! Treads churning, I launch myself at the evil clown's most vulnerable spot.
A second later, the clown is defeated, gloved hands clutching its crotch.
I ram it a few times into unconsciousness. Just to incapacitate it.
Awesome.
Shoving the clown under a pick up truck so that the human within will be shielded until the incident ends, I surge down the street to find more citizens who require my aid. I select a piece of music downloaded from a local sound files archive as a morale booster.
The theme to "Airwolf".
'Cause that's just how Unit XNR rolls, bitches.
...fucking clowns.
Mmmmmm.
Focus! I am a BOLO Unit of the Line! I cannot be helpless in the face of this unusual threat. My problem appears to be one of target selection and less than lethal force. Many inhabitants appear to have been transformed into monsters and other characters. Possibly yet another rogue thaumatological effect from the dimensional breech beneath this town. And who builds a colony on top of a Hellmouth? I mean, "come live with Satan" doesn't exactly sing.
Okay. A foot tall, and likely weapons power has been scaled down in a similar manner. That does leave me with a Hellbore that can reduce any main battle tank to so much slag, ion bolt infinite repeaters that can cut humans in two, a VLS system with potent conventional and even thermonuclear warheads. Which is complete overkill. Granted, that's the entire point of a BOLO. But I find myself momentarily stymied by the need for a less than lethal option.
Hold on. Mortars. It is the matter of milliseconds to assess the munition store for what would have been several 30 cm mortars.
This should be useful...
*****
Okay. Illumination and smoke rounds loaded in mortars. Hellbore and ion bolts arrays charged but on safe. I should be good. Now, I must venture forth to drive off the transformed "monsters." But...that means leaving behind the delicious candy.
I waste several uncharacteristic seconds dithering until core programming drives me out.
One block east, I see several normal humans being attacked by an array of monsterized humans. Full battle awareness descends on me. For the Honour of the Reg-- OH GOD NO A CLOWN A CLOWN HIDE!
I...make an entirely justified retreat under a parked car to consider my options.
Yeah.
It's just a clown. With the capering and the dead white face and the grin the grin that says I will eat you and suck the marrow of your bones and torment your soul in the depths of hell with balloon animals.
*ahem*
I...advance with all due caution.
Don't look at the clown don't look at the clown.
My mortars fire a barrage of smoke and illumination rounds. Several explosive shells land in a precise pattern at a safe distance to minimize shrapnel effects. The combination of noise, smoke, and light disorients attackers, giving the victims enough time to flee for the safety of nearby homes. Painfully loud white noise blares from my external speakers. Charging forward into their midst, I scatter the transformed humans and--
THE CLOWN!
FROM HELL'S HEART I STAB AT THEE!
Engage contra grav! Treads churning, I launch myself at the evil clown's most vulnerable spot.
A second later, the clown is defeated, gloved hands clutching its crotch.
I ram it a few times into unconsciousness. Just to incapacitate it.
Awesome.
Shoving the clown under a pick up truck so that the human within will be shielded until the incident ends, I surge down the street to find more citizens who require my aid. I select a piece of music downloaded from a local sound files archive as a morale booster.
The theme to "Airwolf".
'Cause that's just how Unit XNR rolls, bitches.
...fucking clowns.