Re: Petty Squabble [ROUND 1] [Fort Ayers, New Atlantis]
04-27-2011, 12:00 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Agent1022.
Ashley curled up tight as shots struck the wall of the crevasse around him, defacing its otherwise perfect smoothness.
Some kind of energy bolt. Don’t know about lethality – assume lethal, retreat, retreat, get out of line of fire—
<font color="red">Let me on darll! I can-
Ashley, is this the time?!
He began backpedaling down the line of the trench. The gunfire was intensifying – the pattern of increasing aim-cognition in the robots was easily recognizable if only by listening to the sound of the shots; their frequency increased as more troops took aim and better aim with each passing microsecond.
Just need to get back far enough-
blit
The impact of the shockwave jarred his entire body noiselessly – the sound of the sonic detonation itself was loud enough to deafen. But even as the trench collapsed underneath him, his instinct to scrabble up the sliding slope was overtaken by his training-
‘Don’t try and climb up a falling slope. You’ll stay in one place.’
He saw in his mind’s eye Ashley sitting in an easy chair, reading from their battered copy of ‘Field Training, Volume XII: Convenient Information Imparted By Various Sergeants’. She turned a page, and several other worn pages fell out.
Stercus darll, how much do you use this thing? ‘If you stay in one place with gunfire aimed at you, you’re dead, plater. Swiss cheese. Bloody swiss cheese-’ ew, diagrams.
At the same time, he devoted half his attention to finding cover as he slid down the sandy slope that used to be the side of the chasm. Automatically, he ducked and rolled as the large sonic cannon mounted on the top of the carrier charged itself, and dived for the bottom as it completely unexpectedly blew up. Several shards of shrapnel narrowly missed his tumbling form-
It must have been older than it looked. Everything here must be older than it looks…when you know what to look for…
It was simple to see the rusting rivets on the carrier, the robots’ battered and worn casings and the unfinished look on their weaponry. It was equally simple to discover that appearances were deceiving. Amidst the gunfire which he was miraculously dodging, the bottom of the collapsing slope was coming a lot closer.
Land, avoid fire, find cover, find cover-
Darll, would ya mind thinking in full sentences? And would ya just plating let! Me! ON?!
As he fell towards the bottom he saw the troops half buried in the falling detritus yet still clustered around his landing point, and so he took a split-second jump from the sliding ground…
Why should I let you on, Ashley?!
In midair, he reached out for the rusted gun barrel of a tank, and felt the singe of a near-miss burn through the cargo pants of his uniform—
They aren’t going to plating miss much more, darll! They can only aim better-
He caught the barrel and slid down its length, thanking his gloves for saving him a fortune in friction burn treatment-
Totally doesn’t match your uniform, by the way-
Shut up.
He landed on the front edge of the tank, which dented and flaked slightly under his weight, rolled along its side to hide – immediately shots poured into the body of the tank, so much so that the entire chassis moved-
I’m a plating smaller target! An incoursing! Smaller! Target!
Hell! Check your language, Ashley!
She was full of rage and desperation again, but that was nothing new; he’d met moodier girls, and he knew from experience he could hold her off through a full-scale seaborne invasion – in comparison, the tank’s armor plating caving under the gunfire behind him was small fry. The tank imploded, and he leaped through an opening in the wreckage into the skeleton of a ‘copter nearby-
Bad idea, darl.
The rusty metal crumbled as he touched it, exploding into a red cloud of iron oxide. He closed his eyes reflexively, trying but failing to prevent the particulates of rust from reaching his corneas.
Oh stercus. Partially deaf and now blind as well?
Told ya, darlll. Don’t worry, healing factor’ll have that sorted in a minute or two. But you won’t have a minute or two. Since you’ll be dead. Cause robots have infrared vision y’know.
Through the soles of his feet he knew she was telling the truth – there was, through the ground, the vibration of robotic footfalls – perfectly in step, a metronome ticking the seconds to death.
Aaaaand there’s a faster way to heal up, darll…y’know, using what your genes gave ya?
He flailed wildly in semi-red darkness, trying to find his bearings in an indistinct and clouded world, and all the while the sound of regular marching came up through his bones…
“Would ya rather die, darl?”</font>
Ashley curled up tight as shots struck the wall of the crevasse around him, defacing its otherwise perfect smoothness.
Some kind of energy bolt. Don’t know about lethality – assume lethal, retreat, retreat, get out of line of fire—
<font color="red">Let me on darll! I can-
Ashley, is this the time?!
He began backpedaling down the line of the trench. The gunfire was intensifying – the pattern of increasing aim-cognition in the robots was easily recognizable if only by listening to the sound of the shots; their frequency increased as more troops took aim and better aim with each passing microsecond.
Just need to get back far enough-
blit
The impact of the shockwave jarred his entire body noiselessly – the sound of the sonic detonation itself was loud enough to deafen. But even as the trench collapsed underneath him, his instinct to scrabble up the sliding slope was overtaken by his training-
‘Don’t try and climb up a falling slope. You’ll stay in one place.’
He saw in his mind’s eye Ashley sitting in an easy chair, reading from their battered copy of ‘Field Training, Volume XII: Convenient Information Imparted By Various Sergeants’. She turned a page, and several other worn pages fell out.
Stercus darll, how much do you use this thing? ‘If you stay in one place with gunfire aimed at you, you’re dead, plater. Swiss cheese. Bloody swiss cheese-’ ew, diagrams.
At the same time, he devoted half his attention to finding cover as he slid down the sandy slope that used to be the side of the chasm. Automatically, he ducked and rolled as the large sonic cannon mounted on the top of the carrier charged itself, and dived for the bottom as it completely unexpectedly blew up. Several shards of shrapnel narrowly missed his tumbling form-
It must have been older than it looked. Everything here must be older than it looks…when you know what to look for…
It was simple to see the rusting rivets on the carrier, the robots’ battered and worn casings and the unfinished look on their weaponry. It was equally simple to discover that appearances were deceiving. Amidst the gunfire which he was miraculously dodging, the bottom of the collapsing slope was coming a lot closer.
Land, avoid fire, find cover, find cover-
Darll, would ya mind thinking in full sentences? And would ya just plating let! Me! ON?!
As he fell towards the bottom he saw the troops half buried in the falling detritus yet still clustered around his landing point, and so he took a split-second jump from the sliding ground…
Why should I let you on, Ashley?!
In midair, he reached out for the rusted gun barrel of a tank, and felt the singe of a near-miss burn through the cargo pants of his uniform—
They aren’t going to plating miss much more, darll! They can only aim better-
He caught the barrel and slid down its length, thanking his gloves for saving him a fortune in friction burn treatment-
Totally doesn’t match your uniform, by the way-
Shut up.
He landed on the front edge of the tank, which dented and flaked slightly under his weight, rolled along its side to hide – immediately shots poured into the body of the tank, so much so that the entire chassis moved-
I’m a plating smaller target! An incoursing! Smaller! Target!
Hell! Check your language, Ashley!
She was full of rage and desperation again, but that was nothing new; he’d met moodier girls, and he knew from experience he could hold her off through a full-scale seaborne invasion – in comparison, the tank’s armor plating caving under the gunfire behind him was small fry. The tank imploded, and he leaped through an opening in the wreckage into the skeleton of a ‘copter nearby-
Bad idea, darl.
The rusty metal crumbled as he touched it, exploding into a red cloud of iron oxide. He closed his eyes reflexively, trying but failing to prevent the particulates of rust from reaching his corneas.
Oh stercus. Partially deaf and now blind as well?
Told ya, darlll. Don’t worry, healing factor’ll have that sorted in a minute or two. But you won’t have a minute or two. Since you’ll be dead. Cause robots have infrared vision y’know.
Through the soles of his feet he knew she was telling the truth – there was, through the ground, the vibration of robotic footfalls – perfectly in step, a metronome ticking the seconds to death.
Aaaaand there’s a faster way to heal up, darll…y’know, using what your genes gave ya?
He flailed wildly in semi-red darkness, trying to find his bearings in an indistinct and clouded world, and all the while the sound of regular marching came up through his bones…
“Would ya rather die, darl?”</font>
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So very British / But then again | People are machines Machines are people | Oh hai there | There's no time
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Superhero 1920s noir | Multigenre Half-Life | Changing the future | Command line interface
Tu ventire felix? | Clockwork for eternity | Explosions in spacetime