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2003-11-12, 09:50 PM | [Ignore Me] #11 | ||
Lightbulb Collector
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Chapter 7: In Flanders Fields
Aztec landed his squadron for a quick rearmament and repair. They were under attack by a Vanu squad. While he had been dogfighting, a certain "CDL-Jouster" had nailed his Reaver right through the armored glass with 12mm. Hit him in the arm, nearly locking it in place. He took a look. The joint was shattered. Blood leaked. The glass was tinted red. Synovial fluid, not much though, spilled in droplets. He was going to get that son of a bitch later. As he landed, he propped open the cockpit and screamed. "MEDIC!!!!" A medic came up. Reinforced armor. "Shit! What the hell happened to...." "Private! Unless you want a 12mm through your chest, get this healed!" He whipped out the Med-Applicator and the healing was done in a few moments. The wonders of modern technology. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CDL's 10 downed lied in a hole they had dug. Just visible was a NC base. There was a lot of comotion. "What do you suppose is goin' on there?" asked Legendary Saiyan, the Galaxy pilot. He had been one of the severly wounded, but now due to the med applicators, he looked good as new. "No damn clue." responded FireZ, who was a gunner on one of the Galaxies. He, too, had been seriously wounded. He was also healed. "I've got my Bolt Driver here with me, I suppose I could take a look..." Jouster peered through the scope. The figures were VERY far away, far too far for a sniper shot. Jouster wasn't stupid enough to give away their existence by shooting someone, anyway. It looked alot like their base, except it was Smurfs instead of Elmos. He peered over a bleeding pilot in a Reaver. The scope displayed his name. [S/E]AztecWarrior. "And there's the son of a bitch who downed me! Damn! His whole shoulder's shattered. I guess we came out even. You hearing that? Oh, you can't, because..." "Ssshhh!" Lise said. There was a hummng in the distance. It got closer and closer. Threshers. A line of fire erupted from behind a trench. Vanus firing at the Smurfs. NCs took positions along the opposite side of the field, also entrenched. Light artillery from Lightnings and medium shells from Vanguards soon littered the area. Lise remembered a poem that put this into perspective. An old one, from World War 1. "In Flanders fields, where the poppies blow..." "What the shit is that?" inquired Hamma. "A poe..." A 150mm shell landed not 10 meters from their hole. At that point they readied their weapons and got lower in the hole. Nobody dared look at the situation. Nobody spoke for a few moments. "How the hell is our rescue going to get through this?" uttered someone.
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The gun katas. Through analysis of thousands of recorded gunfights, the Cleric has determined that the geometric distribution of antagonists in any gun battle is a statistically predictable element. The gun kata treats the gun as a total weapon, each fluid position representing a maximum kill zone, inflicting maximum damage on the maximum number of opponents while keeping the defender clear of the statistically traditional trajectories of return fire. By the rote mastery of this art, your firing efficiency will rise by no less than 120%. The difference of a 63% increase to lethal proficiency makes the master of the gun katas an adversary not to be taken lightly. |
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