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Prior Thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4046370/
Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Maverick%20Hunter%20Quest
The IRC: suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com, #MHQ
The Twitter: https://twitter.com/HunterCommand
The Recap (thanks to Scarab): http://pastebin.com/wMtuXJM2
Character sheet: https://docs.google.com/document/d/18-L31ukeOd_0XvfqErwY7GogqiwMU8zyIYfXxjTUb-c/

You are NOT Maverick Hunter Anode.
>>
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That’s right, it has taken us 100 threads to get here, but at long last I have taken over! That means so long, Anode - we’re going to take a trip back in time, to eras before our protagonist and his sister were even blueprints on a computer in Pennsylvania. We’re going to walk through the setting and see the forces that have shaped the world, the forces that I craft to provide lore, history, and color to the events of Maverick Hunter Quest.

And as you all know, I make the monsters.
>>
The timeline of Reploids has been shaped by conflict and monstrosity as much as hope and innovation. Fortunately for the sake of the world, whenever villains have risen, heroes have emerged to put them down. Our backstory is filled with such figures:

> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
> A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
> A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
> A second chance making his first impression
> A woman alone who defied fate, but could not escape it
> An immovable force facing an unstoppable object
> A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
> A student of destruction forced to face the master
>>
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>>4110905
And I'm here as well, in the unusual spot of watching the story instead of writing it. Welcome, everyone!
>>
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>>4110924
Oh, and right, I suppose I've got to co-pilot in CL's stead.

A little music, to get us started.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtdhHN29iBg
>>
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>>
Welcome back, HC and CL! I am filled with anticipation and trepidation.

>>4110920
>> A woman alone who defied fate, but could not escape it

Presuming these are our choices, I think this one sounds interesting...
>>
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>>4110920
THERE ARE NO BRAKES ON THE CAIN TRAIN.

>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
>>
>>4110912

Oh no

Also
>>4110920
>> A woman alone who defied fate, but could not escape it
>>
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>>4110920
>A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
>>
>>4110920
>A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
>>
>>4110920
>> A second chance making his first impression
>>
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>>4110920
>A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
https://youtu.be/cx7WeHSxmow
>>
>>4110912
>And as you all know, I make the monsters.

Is...is it us? Are the monsters us?
>>
>>4111140
No, it's birds.
>>
>>4111185
I mean obviously.
>>
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>>4111185
>>4111224
Good thing we can let Repliforce help us with these sorts of things in the future, huh?
>>
>>4111227
>>
>>4110920
>A woman alone who defied fate, but could not escape it

LET'S ROLL, SUCKERS
>>
Alright, closing vote and writing.
>>
>>4110920
>> A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
I mean, if the shoe fits...
>>
>>4110920
> A woman alone who defied fate, but could not escape it
>>
>>4110950
>>4110954
>>4111257
>>4111372

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pTWmfsTbuU

You are India, a pilot with the Maverick Hunters 11th Space Command, and you’re enjoying a smooth flight down Golentz lane 043.

Word from Earth has it that Hunters are being attacked by a new enemy threat and that X himself has had to get personally involved. You wouldn’t mind a bit of aerial combat if they felt the need to reassign you, but Cygnus says the primary concern remains keeping any possible threats out of space. So here you are in your Tetra, patrolling the Mining Worlds for any sign of incursion. It’s keeping you out of trouble, at the very least - and you could never be bored when you can look out on the boundless freedom of space every day.

The Golentz lanes are always strange to look out on; light seeming to bend and scatter at random, sometimes splitting around apparently nonexistent obstacles or changing color. You’ve never been much for the science of what are basically wormholes as far as you’re concerned; you just appreciate their usefulness (and aesthetic), but you look forward to returning to normal space just the same.

The terminus nears, and you emerge near the planet Anubis, the dark crystalline geography catching the play of light from nearby stars. You punch a couple of buttons to send your callsign and verification code through to orbital control. An easy stopover at the station for an inspection and refueling, and then it’s off to Geb. Already you’re being approached by Geimköttur orbital handling Mechaniloids and Scramblers. Bog standard. Maybe you’ll ask the old swan to see about a temporary assignment. A bit of action, anything.

That’s when they start ramming you.
>>
“Fucking hell?” you shout, switching on comms as you see the large blobby space Mechaniloid swinging around for another pass. You hail orbital control but receive no response. Grabbing the control wheel, you quickly roll your Tetra away from the next hit, ducking an incoming Scrambler that seems intent on hitting the cockpit glass. “Anubis Control!” you shout at your comm, “your stupid space tubs are getting dusted in the next 15 seconds if you can’t get them back in gear!”

You’d be more comfortable if that was just an angry threat, rather than the tactical assessment you’ve been forced to make. The Geimköttur aren’t tremendously dextrous - something like old 20th century submarines crossed with giant stuffed cats, they’re intended for slow and careful movements - but they’re still heavy enough that an impact is damaging. As for the smaller Scramblers, the last thing you need is an arm getting tangled up in something important.

You’ve just shot two of them out of the sky when you notice a trio of Draumur orbital craft approaching from the surface. Pulse lasers are already firing in your direction. It looks like you’ve flown right into the dogfight you were craving.

> Attempt to weave through them to disorient them and escape the Mechaniloids
> Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually
> Other?
>>
>>4110920
> A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
And so it begins
>>
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>>4111390
>Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually.

At least we didn't get caught in slot machine limbo.
>>
>>4111390
> Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually
>>
>>4111390
>Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually.

Enemies can't overwhelm you when there aren't any enemies.
>>
>>4111402
> Other? get caught in slot machine limbo.

Capital idea.
>>
>>4111390
Votes only open for 2 hours? What madness have you subjected us to, Cain!?

> Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually
>>
>>4111417
OH NOOOOO
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJS7PiyQius
>>
>>4111390
> Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually
>>
>>4111390
>> Attempt to weave through them to disorient them and escape the Mechaniloids

HELL YEAH
>>
>>4111390
>Take out the Geimkottur and use it as a meatshield
How much of this planet is compromised?
>>
>>4111390
> Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually
oh shit oh fuck
>>
Vote closed and writing. Post may be a bit delayed.
>>
Morning, folks! I find myself in the unusual position of awaiting the next update with you all.

So how's it been? How's a hundred bloody threads of robot nonsense found you?
>>
>>4112122
It's pretty great, thanks for asking!
>>
>>4112122
I could use another hundred bloody threads
>>
>>4112122
I'm up for this mad endeavor anytime, anywhere.
>>
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>>4112142
>>4112158
Nice.

~~Welcome to the Fourth.~~
>>
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>>4112122
aw yea
>>
>>4112167
[s]Don't mind me, multitasking by testing some formatting that has completely fallen out of my brain over time.[/s]

So does anyone have any lore questions, story questions, character asks, etc? I figure while I'm in the copilot's chair I can look into what I can answer, both inworld and, to some extent, behind the curtain as author.
>>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzzVOx6fOvw

Three against one isn’t the worst strategy, but the approach is too obvious - you could counter this in your sleep! Thumbs on your triggers, you spray fire at the approaching Draumurs as you kick on the lateral thruster to sweep off to the right, strafing their line. The enemy pilots break formation as they dodge, and the one closest to your new position has picked the wrong way to roll, canopy exposed to your guns. Easy picking - lock, fire, and that’s one down, a fireball engulfing the craft as its remains begin to implode.

BOOM.

“What now?” you grumble as you check your radar quickly. You see the next one coming - the first shot was behind you, but this beam shot narrowly misses taking you out as you pitch upward, a jet of deadly light whizzing past to vanish into the depths of space. They must have captured the orbital defense weaponry. That’s going to make things a hell of a lot worse.

You toggle comms and try to call Horus Base, but of course the fuckers are jamming you. Fine then. You’ve seen their skills - two on one is no contest. Already the two are trying to converge on you, pulses crackling at your position from 2 o’clock and 10 o’clock. You put on a burst of speed, entering into a hard roll and pitching down at the same time in order to curl around one of them. As you predicted, your second victim is slow to correct for your move, and you’re able to tap a series of shots into a wing, causing an uncontrollable tailspin.

BOOM.
>>
>>4112238
If we had gone against all reason and spent all money we'd ever make forever on the Saetosword, how long would we have had before Emerald kidnapped it to form a cult?
>>
>>4112241
The last one is being cagey. You can see the orbital Mechaniloids trying to move toward you, and while they’re too slow to catch you now that you know they’re hostiles, the combination of needing to avoid them and the orbital defense shots is giving your last bogey much more room to maneuver. A few sprays of pulse shots sweep in your general direction, but this one appears to be sizing you up before making another serious attempt.

> Thin the herd of Mechaniloids
> Hunt the last pilot down first to take out the most immediate threat
> Turn your attention to the orbital defBOOM
> Ahhhh fuck.
>>
Ah shit. You didn’t see that one in time.

As you plunge toward the dark crystalline surface of Anubis, you rush to check the damage report and navigational shield integrity. Most of the tail has been vaporized by the defense cannon’s shot and the remaining thruster isn’t responding to controls. You’ll have to try and stabilize with the ventral thrusters, retro drive, and whatever you can get the wings to give you. One of the anterior LIFE cells has already failed and your hand rushes across the console to reallocate power, hoping to prevent a cascade failure in the serial chain.

The spinning is disorienting as you hurtle toward your doom, but your radar has scoped a few likely options. You can try to stabilize and glide down near the control tower, hoping that it hasn’t been compromised by Mavericks; alternately, you can attempt to hold out in the air a bit longer and go for an unpopulated flat bluff not far away - perhaps the safer option once you’re on the ground, but you’re not sure if you’ll make it there in one piece.

> Bring it in near the control tower
> Try for the safer landing on the bluff farther away
>>
>>4112250
> Bring it in near the control tower
>>
>>4112250
>Bring it in near the control tower
Safe is for civilians.
>>
>>4112250
>Bring it in near the control tower
>>
>>4112243
He'd probably try to contribute to it in order to make it the best possible insane murder weapon it could be.
>>
>>4112250
>Try for the safer landing on the bluff farther away
how else are we going to ambush that last aircraft and pilot it ourselves?
>>
>>4112122
I think about this quest every day. I’m probably going to think about Anode for the rest of my life. I love the misericorde as a signature weapon, and I’m all jazzed up for grapple pack. The gritty minutiae of every piece of tech, the viscerality of every scuffle, and the sheer creativity of everyone involved combined into something that truly transcended this humble board. You two have a talent for suspense and villains that loom larger and run deeper than most despite their short appearances. This quest is an event, and I’ll be a fan for life.
>>
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>>4112294
...Goddamn. Thank you.
>>
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>>4112250
>> Bring it in near the control tower
>>4112122
Over the course of 100 threads I've Dropped out of Uni, spent years working, Bought a house, went back to school and am getting married in 2 months
Been a long and wild ride guys
Here's to the next 100 Threads, I love you bastards
These threads are all ART
>>
>>4112294
What this guy said.
>>4112314
Funny you should mention dropping out of uni, these threads are a large part of what kept me going when I dropped out due to a severe depressive episode.

I love this quest, and I love making/sharing shitposts about it. Memes are my life and it makes me super happy whenever I see someone post one that I made.
>>
>>4112250
>> Bring it in near the control tower

First priority: Don't go BOOM.
>>
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>>4112314
>>4112420
I'm actually taking longer than normal to graduate from college, part of the reason for which being that HC's descriptions of his job have made me afraid of joining the workforce.
>>
>>4112594
Real talk, if there's any advice I can give you? Set your boundaries early. Even good companies will run you into the ground if you let them, and bad ones will constantly nibble away at your health and sanity and never leave room to recover. Fight burnout. Take your lunch hours, take your breaks, and don't let roles creep up and into your duties. Take care of yourself, because no one else can or will.
>>
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>>4112250
>Try for the safer landing on the bluff farther away
>>
>>4112261
>>4112262
>>4112266
>>4112314
>>4112476

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKYXQpaJaqM

Throwing caution to the wind, you decide you’d rather land clean and sort out the mess than roll the dice on a longer controlled flight. You snap on the retros and fiddle with the wing drives until your rotation slows enough that you can pull out of the roll and regain some amount of pitch. The ground is disgustingly close as you bring the nose of your Tetra up and angle for a controlled descent.

Unfortunately, the tail damage is too severe for your plan to fully work. What you’d hoped to make into a broad circling maneuver to reduce speed and altitude goes somewhat wide, and your hasty projection of new trajectory and landing velocity suggests this will still be messy. What’s worse, the remaining Draumur is heading your way.

Well then… fuck it. You can handle a crash, as long as it’s only a little one. You set your heading to miss the landing pad and aim for one of the lower service runways. The retros have given out; you have lateral thrusters, a bit of ventral, and your wing drives left. You pitch forward, the nose tilting down, then use the ventrals to gain altitude and crank hard on the lateral thrusters to drift into a spin as you skid down the runway. Your poor craft screams as it comes apart from the bottom up, but it looks like you’ve done it - your momentum has slowed enough that the resulting collision into a nearby hangar door is soft.

Well, relatively.
>>
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Banged up but no worse for wear, you open the canopy and gingerly slide down the side of what used to be your Tetra. Poor baby. The air is surprisingly warm, a far cry from the overall mood of the dark crystalline planetoid, and in the relative quiet you can hear the sound of a gentle river somewhere nearby. A few Spikys begin rolling down from the control tower to intercept you, and you can see Reploids in the distance boarding Ride Loaders. If you were hoping for fewer Mavericks on the ground, you hoped wrong.

Still, your current position offers you choices; a cargo monorail nearby would get you to the control tower, which could still have some holdouts to help you or radio equipment to contact Horus Base. Behind you is a hangar; there may be a spare Draumur you could hijack to get off this rock.

> All aboard for the control tower
> Try the hangar for something to steal
> Find a hostile Ride Loader and emancipate it from its pilot
> Other?
>>
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>>4112843
>All aboard for the control tower

Indy could probably wreck shop in a Ride Loader but I don't think it'd be a good idea to get bogged down. This is the past, but what's our loadout? I'm hoping we've at least got Frank.

Also, forgot this was a blue board. Whoops.
>>
>>4112843
> All aboard for the control tower
To the radio!
>>
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>>4112890
As she was on a patrol route, India is only equipped with the standard survival pack for an Eleventh pilot--her service pistol and a small knife.

The knife is metal, not beam, and built to be versatile in both survival and, if necessary, combat, but India is no melee fighter.

Her service pistol chambers special anti-Reploid solid projectile rounds designed to avoid rupturing a hull. India has customized it heavily, producing a higher-grade combat armament.

In true desperation, she could also use... that.
>>
>>4112843
>All aboard for the control tower
>>
>>4112122
I'm still working on tweaking the tabletop system but it's been slow because real life shit. I keep my eyes peeled on /qst/ mostly for MHQ, just so you know. Keep up the great work and I'll be here. Also, who here got the Z/ZX collection?

>>4112843
>All aboard for the control tower
Speed's important here, but I'd first like to know what we have for a loadout: we may need to jack a ride to give us something to work with. Could that include rigging the Tetra to blow or pulling some weapons out of the wreckage? Might be viable, throwing out suggestions.
>>
>>4112937
>In true desperation, she could also use... that.

What, her sense of decency?
>>
>>4112962
Her whatnow
>>
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>>4112937
>In true desperation, she could also use... that.
>>
>>4112937
>In true desperation, she could also use... that.
Nani
>>
>All aboard for the control tower

Seems like the best bet to make.

Also, congrats on 100 threads! I'll have to doodle something for the occasion.
>>
>>4112843
>> Try the hangar for something to steal
>>
>>4112843
>All aboard for the control tower
>>
>>4112838
>All aboard for the control tower
>>
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>>4112890
>>4112926
>>4112955
>>4112956
>>4113112
>>4113146
>>4113481

As tempted as you are to just hijack the nearest vehicle and start taking names, the Maverick presence seems substantial enough to warrant a stealthier approach.

Goddammit.

Feeling guilty as you use the wreckage of your Tetra for cover, you duck around to the loading ramp and narrowly duck the illuminating wake of a passing Hotarion. The monorail is already loaded with crates to provide cover, though you’re briefly startled into drawing your sidearm when you see a Gun Volt standing between the boxes. Fortunately, its optics are unlit - sleep tight, you ugly fucker. The load controller’s panel is nearby - easy enough to hotwire and transmit a recall signal.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTQaHpok5NU

The monorail begins its journey, crossing through a subterranean canal where you get a chance to see for yourself the strange red-blue pleochroism of the Anubis mineral strata, flickering and shimmering in the artificial light. The canal lets out to an overpass, and you can see the spotlights of Ball de Voux searching the terrain as a Bee Blader flies overhead. Nice try, dumbasses, but you have no plans to be caught by such an outdated hunk of scrap. Come to think of it, though… none of this is exactly cutting-edge technology, but that’s Earthside. Out here in the Mining Worlds, they should be counting themselves lucky to have any kind of autonomous equipment.
>>
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>>4113838
“How the hell did any of this make it out of Earth orbit?” you mutter under your breath, picturing the names and faces of the least competent 11th staff you know and dreaming of ways you intend to do them harm for letting this happen.

As the train nears the station, you take stock of your new situation - there are a couple of Degravers talking to an ugly bearded bird on an equally ugly Ride Chaser, and a couple of Draumurs sweep the area above. At least two, assuming one of them was among the ones chasing you earlier. Nothing you can’t handle, but you might be in for a beauty mark or two if they get the jump on you. The train is drawing into the station now, and you can see the Degravers approaching, one in a Ride Loader, to unload some cargo. Blocks concealed on the ceiling don’t fool your expert eye - Bleckers, probably keyed to some nasty security protocol. Those you know better than to tackle head-on.

You’re indoors, so the air support won’t be able to respond immediately if you go loud, but that guy on the bike looked like more trouble than you’ve got time for. There’s likely a service elevator nearby if you were able to sneak past. You’ve got your sidearm and killer marksmanship to put down any Reploid opponent, and hey, there’s always your stupid tin survival knife that you could throw at someone to distract them. And that other thing - no, India, no. Never that. You’re better than that.

Or… there’s never been a better time to try something reckless and see where it takes you.

> Have a frank exchange with a nearby Degraver about which one of you should pilot a Ride Loader.
> Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.
> Find an empty crate and get in.
> Other?
>>
>>4113842
>Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.
Can we put the knife on a slope to clatter into an empty crate? That might make them spend more time checking crates than the elevator.
>>
>>4113885
You want to ditch the knife already? Or do you want to bait an ambush?
>>
>>4113913
India's no solid snake. I didn't think melee was ever really an option.
>>
>>4113842
>Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.
>>
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>>4113922
Actually, thinking on it again... This is too good a chance to pass up. Before, we were on the defensive, but now we can hopefully use this opportunity to seize the initiative and take out a variable that might complicate things later.

>Have a frank exchange with a nearby Degraver about which one of you should pilot a Ride Loader.

Show 'em what these things can REALLY do.
>>
>>4113842
> Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.
Jacking a ride this soon would tip enemies off early. Not ideal.
>>
>>4113842
>>Have a frank exchange with a nearby Degraver about which one of you should pilot a Ride Loader.
>>
>>4113842
> Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.
Between Bleckers and bike guy, going loud seems a bit unfavorable
>>
>>4113842
>> Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.

No need to go loud until we run out of other options. We're not exactly built for un-meched combat.
>>
>>4113842
> Find an empty crate and get in.
I couldn’t not.
>>
>>4113885
>>4113922
>>4114141
>>4114230
>>4114250
Degravers are slow, and the one piloting the Ride Loader isn’t much good at his job. As he clumsily lowers more of the frame than necessary to pick up a crate, his head ducks out of line of sight. After a quick scan of the area, you slip out through in the shadows and make your way down the corridor. A helpful sign directs you toward Communications, though you have to duck back into a maintenance alcove as some Reploids come your way. Short, wide-eyed, and metal-skinned - ah fuck, Mondenkind. You hate Mondenkind.

Wait, that’s not fair. Everyone should hate Mondenkind. Why blame yourself?

The creepy childlike Reploids don’t even look down the corridor you’re hidden in. Four of them, and if you had to guess, they’re most likely the Maverick pilots. If you could split them up… you pat your pistol as you think. They can’t take you in a fight, but you’d need to catch them individually to prevent them from raising the alarm, and you’ve got bigger fish to fry. Checking again to make sure there aren’t any more moonbrats you’ve missed, you toggle the elevator and ride it to the 7th floor.

The doors open, revealing a large windowed space that looks out over the surface of Anubis. The Bee Bladers you saw earlier are still patrolling, though you don’t see any sign of a Draumur flying around. Someone nearby is talking, and you advance slowly to retain the element of surprise.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ktDE22c2Uw

The room is laid out on two levels; the upper level where you are, and a kind of operations pit with computer stations and air traffic monitors. A bizarre reptilian Reploid with large propellers joined to a jetpack on his back is haranguing a group of tied-up humans about the glory of whatever and the might of who cares. Doesn’t look like he’d be hard to take down, but you have to make sure there’s no one else covering the humans before you swoop in and gank him. Best to circle around up here, get more angles.
>>
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Your movement brings you close to an operations pod, where you find another human tied up, panic in his eyes as he sees you. You motion for him to be quiet as you crouch near him, service knife making short work of his bindings.

“I’m a Hunter, they shot me down, I need details,” you whisper to him. “At least four Mondenkind, counted five Degravers,” he opens his mouth and you shoot him a look, “not done, big guy on a bike, and the one down there. Now you talk.”

“Three of them the ringleaders,” he croaks; you wonder how long the shits left him without water. “The bird one, he used bombs to breach the security doors. That one down there, the snake, some kind of interfering cloud that jammed the Bleckers on us. They have a third, a flier, he’s got lasers of some kind.” You nod. He starts rubbing his wrists as he continues. “Six Moonchildren defected when the attack came, stole the patrol craft. Ten more destroyed. We thought they were here to help us.” a note of bitterness enters his voice.
“Anyone else down with him now?” He shakes his head. “Good. Here’s what I need you to do: get access to tower security. If you can find any other survivors, we’ll go get them when I get back. Once you’ve checked that, hide.”

“Back?” he hisses in a panic. “Where are you going?” But he’s talking to thin air; you’re already sliding down the wall into the operations pit, where the reptilian Reploid is gesticulating wildly and saying something about ruling over space.

“Hey there, beautiful!” you shout cheerfully. He turns. They always turn, suckers.

Your bullet catches him in the shoulder, the hollow point rupturing and causing his shields to flare. The snaky face contorts in pain as your new friend raises his good arm and shoots out a cable, latching onto a support pillar and pulling himself into the air. You fire another couple of shots his way, forcing him to swing awkwardly to avoid your fire. His cable, apparently not made for supporting his weight, snaps and drops him to the floor with a satisfying crash. You hope you won’t pay for that with more Mavericks coming up here to investigate.

Prioritize:

> He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.
> You’re surrounded by computers, find one that does something useful.
> He’s distracted and you have some time, free the humans so that they can get to safety.
> Other?
>>
>>4114261
>>some kind of interfering cloud that jammed the Bleckers
I assume that means he could've jammed any ride we brought in, but it could also mean our own senses.

> He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.
We should keep a mental note on where the hostages are incase we go blind, but really pew pew is the quickest way we're taking him out.
>>
>>4114261
> He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.
>>
>>4114261
>He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.

We don't need a sensor-fucker out of our visual with time to do anything, and neither do these hostages.
>>
>>4114261
>He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.
>>
>>4114261

> He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack

Commit snek murder
>>
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>>4114261
>He's already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.
>>
>>4114261
>He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.
Yeah, we don't know what actual weapons this guy has, wait to let the hostages out
>>
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>>4114268
>>4114282
>>4114284
>>4114292
>>4114373
>>4114551
>>4114573

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHb0aTwGdCc

You see the propellers rising up from over the bank of computers and aim your pistol at where his head should come up. You almost don’t hear the sliding sound from your left until it’s too late, but you leap aside just in time for a snake-headed cable to smash into the console next to you. As it retracts, you fire your shot to force him low.

“At least buy a girl flowers first,” you scold him. The next cable is already headed your way - now that you’ve heard it, you know the sound and can place the direction. You duck and roll, twisting away from where it bites into the floor and rushing to a closer position behind the next bank of computers.

“You’re outnumbered, Hunter,” he hisses back. “Anubis belongs to the Mavericks now. Surrender before I’m forced to hurt you.” His head raises and he spits some kind of clawed projectile your way, which you duck to avoid, snapping back up and plugging two bullets where his head just was. If he’s got to stick his neck out to shoot at you, you’re going to make him suffer for it.

“Check your math, luv. There’s only one of you, and I’ve already taken out the trash twice since I got here.” You’re not seeing an opening. Maybe you could try to snipe one of the propellers? Their frames look pretty damn solid. “I totally understand if you’re having trouble with the idea of subtraction, though, since you’re clearly more of an adder.”

He’s hissing again - easily goaded, you note with a smirk - and you’ve got a good read on which way he’s moving. You duck the other way, hoping to catch him off guard - but wait… ah fuck. That wasn’t a snake hiss, that was a gas release. Some kind of vermillion fog is filling the air between your position and his. You fire another bullet to try and wing him or at least provoke a reaction… and see it slow in midair, the fumes collecting around the bullet like condensing water vapor. It falls to the ground not six inches from you, coated in a kind of red jelly.

For a brief, giddy moment, you wonder if he’s literally jammed your shots.

“Useless, girl. Your gun can’t penetrate this defense - you were lucky the first time, but this will stop any bullet! And no, I am NOT an adder - I am Connect Viper, and you,” he pauses, gloating, “you are scrap metal.”
>>
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time it catches you in the arm, wrapping and immediately lurching you toward him. You quickly drop your pistol and grab your knife, slashing at the connection as you use your other hand to hold onto a support pillar. Just a few more seconds…

The hissing returns and the fumes seem to thicken around you. The sidearm, wherever it is, is useless now. You’re really going to have to do that, aren’t you? You swore you’d never use it. This fucking snake will pay for this.

“Spoken for, I’m afraid,” you taunt him as you manage to sever the cable, “but I can still spare you a dance.” You can’t be sure whether his vapor obscures his own vision, but the best strategy is to assume he can see right through it and keep cover accordingly. You feel around for your pistol and roll into a seated position, firing down the aisle between computer rows. The bullet stops and drops, but all you were really looking to do was give him a sound to focus on. Sure enough, the next cable comes up and over - and you can trace it back to its source. You quickly leap out and - ugh, really? Yes, really, there’s no other choice, he can stop physical projectiles dead in midair.

You direct energy into your forehead and fire the Bindi Beam.

The red light cuts through the orange fog, a loud yelp signaling that you’ve hit the mark, and you continue to pepper the area with brief beam sweeps as you move back to provide cover to the hostages. Propellers whine to life, the fog dispersing as Viper raises up in midair, leg still smoking from where you hit him.

“Don’t throw a hissy fit,” you snark at him, sending another few beam shots at the flying snake. “There’s more where that came from. If you surrender now I won’t even tell them how much you sucked at your job, cross my heart.”

“Fool,” he howls back at you, “you have no support - Commander Sigma is one of us now! The Maverick Hunters as you knew them are no more! I will crush you in Sigma’s name!”

What.

Oh… oh they’ve been in space.
>>
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“You mean you didn’t hear?” you feign shock. “Sigma’s gone. Months ago.”

“What?”

You can barely keep the laughter out of your voice. “Yeah… X retired him. There was a whole war and it’s already over. How did you manage to miss an entire war?” Annnnd you’ve failed. Now you’re openly snickering at him. Is his cable actually drooping?

“I don’t believe you!”

“Sorry, luv,” you trace another beam across his chest as you tumble away from his counterattack. The cable is snaking your way again but this time you just lean to the side and let it sail past. “I guess you don’t watch a lot of news. Sigma’s rebellion is a lot smaller than it used to be - just three clowns in a space station and a handful of masspros who haven’t gotten the memo yet.”

“You’re lying!” he dives at your position, allowing you to catch him full in the face with your Bindi Beam. If he’s going to force you to use it on him, you’re going to make sure he gets everything that’s coming to him. “Sigma is the greatest Reploid in the world! Our mission is foolproof!”

You twist to avoid him and kick him in the side, causing him to collide with the computer bank. As he lies prone, you give a sympathetic nod. “It definitely proved you’re a fool, I’ll give you that.” You bring your gun up against his torso. “Anyway, you’ve been really sweet,” you say lightly, “but I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I’ll tell your friends you said hi!”

“The Mavericks will -” but what exactly they will is no longer his concern or yours as your bullet rips through his shields and the armor beneath. You leap away from Viper’s explosion and head over to the hostages, severing the cords binding them. Several of them have to be helped up by others.

“Someone who knows the orbital defenses, come help me shut them down,” you call to the humans. Your fight with Viper made a lot of noise and there’s going to be attention coming your way soon - you have to decide on your next move, and fast.

> The one on the Ride Chaser has control of the tower’s base. Need to eliminate him first.
> The unseen flier could hit you from anywhere, anytime - best to go after him before he knows you’re coming.
> Other?
>>
>>4114746
>The unseen flier could hit you from anywhere, anytime - best to go after him before he knows you’re coming.

As for the tower, can any of you set some traps to keep yourselves safe for a bit?
>>
>>4114746
>Is the guy in the Ride Loader still around?
>If so, take it and go after the Ride Chaser guy
>Otherwise deal with the laser flier
>>
>>4114746
> The unseen flier could hit you from anywhere, anytime - best to go after him before he knows you’re coming.
I really want to leave the flier for last, because that seems the best final opponent for India, but it's never good to choose drama over tactics. Oh well.
>>
>>4114746
>The one on the Ride Chaser has control of the tower's base. Need to eliminate him first.

I almost feel bad for these guys.

Almost.
>>
>>4114746
> The one on the Ride Chaser has control of the tower’s base. Need to eliminate him first.
>>
>>4114746
>The one on the Ride Chaser has control of the tower's base. Need to eliminate him first.
>>
>>4114746
>The one on the Ride Chaser has control of the tower’s base. Need to eliminate him first.
bombs sound bad for collateral.

Really? The BINDI BEAM? Honey, hybridize that weapon into literally anything else.
>>
>>4114940
Hence why she was embarrassed.

Also, just a disclaimer, that was NOT my idea. That one comes right from Hunter Command.
>>
>>4114983
Sure, blame Command.
>>
>>4114784
>>4114792
>>4114824
>>4114828
>>4114901
>>4114940

Voting closed, post being prepared. Won't be posted until tomorrow, unfortunately.
>>
>>4115270
...or I'm wrong and I have a post done and ready to fly.
>>
>>4114792
>>4114824
>>4114828
>>4114901
>>4114940

The humans are already manning stations, gathering first aid kids, and otherwise occupying themselves with regaining control over tower functions. You see the first guy you rescued waving at you and head over.

“A few pockets of survivors around the perimeter,” he indicates spots on a map of the facility. “Not sure why they’re keeping hostages, unless the defectors are worried we might have security codes they need for the underground equipment - which,” he looks slightly smug, “we do. Trouble is, they don’t have the manpower to keep us all under watch or supplied. If you’d arrived much later, this would be a really ugly situation.”

“I’m a grounded pilot facing at least ten Mavericks on a remote planet with no backup, luv,” you note drily. “I think we can safely say this one missed its beauty sleep. Did you get into the security systems?”

He grins, tapping the screen to change to camera feeds from multiple locations. You see a number of Reploids awkwardly avoiding pulse shots from activated Bleckers. “Barbato and Viper brought a lot of the modern Mechaniloids with them hidden in a parts shipment, but Earth has kept us pretty up to date on our security protocols. The Degravers are having a rough go of it, and as for the Moonchildren,” he toggles another feed, showing the small alien-looking Reploids trapped behind a number of Bar Wayings in a corridor, “none of them have any weapons to solve their way out of that one.”

“Barbato, that’s the bird?”

“Bomb Barbato, yes. Vulture Reploid, ex-Hunter, nasty sort. Thinks everything can be solved with explosions.”

Man after your own heart, that. Shame. “Can he fly?”

“Fly, I couldn’t tell you. Not that I’ve seen, at least. This one, though--” He toggles to a profile of another avian Reploid. “Rays Phoenix. A tractor beam specialist and gravity manipulator. Part of Laser Dragon’s forces during Sleeper 17.” You raise an eyebrow quizzically. “Before your time? Forget it. Told people he’d been affected by a virus or NOME or something. More common in those days, though I don’t understand how he ever got clearance to come back to space. Dangerous flier, watch out for him. He’s the one that sabotaged the base systems for the initial attack.”

“Can’t deal with him until I get to a ship,” you point out, “and that means dealing with meals on wheels down there. Is there anything in the station that I could fly?”

“There’s an onsite hangar down this corridor,” he tells you, flipping back to the map. “It’s pretty exposed down there, unfortunately, and he’s definitely faster than you as long as he’s got that Ride Chaser.”
>>
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“Leave that to me,” you boast cheerfully. “Just wait for my signal - and when you get it, toggle the self-destructs on the Bleckers.” He looks at where you’re pointing on the map and his grin redoubles.

The elevator doors open to chaos - Degravers awkwardly trying to stumble out of range of the Blecker shots as the Ride Loader picks them up to crush and disable. Spinys roll around throughout the hallway, colliding with the Ride Loader and knocking it away from its intended targets. Barbato isn’t helping the situation, lobbing grenades wildly from far down the hall in a reckless attempt to clear the lower floor of security elements. Everything is technically in place for your plan to work… provided the Ride Loader is knocked just a bit closer to the wall. You give it a moment for the next collision, then shoot three rounds down the hallway.

“Any of you boys looking to show a girl a good time?”

The Degravers turn, optics narrowing as they leave off attacking the Bleckers to throw pickaxes at you. You’re already moving, shooting one square in the abdomen and causing considerable damage. Two more shots blow the arm off another one. There are more than you were hoping to see, but you think the extra traffic will be useful in providing cover. You can see the menacing red light of the Ride Chaser down the long hallway turn blue as it begins accelerating toward you. The Degraver operating the Ride Loader picks up another Blecker to crush. You look at the camera and give a thumbs-up.

BOOM. All of the security blocks explode, clouds of smoke mingling to reduce vision in the immediate area. You can hear the Degravers cursing as shrapnel flies their way, but anyone aiming attacks at where you were standing is going to be rudely disappointed - you’re already over by the wall, jumping and kicking off to land on the back of the Ride Loader. Unlike a Ride Armor, this is a labor vehicle and has no protective canopy, which is why the pilot isn’t at all prepared when you point your pistol at the base of his neck and shoot once to remove his head.

The rest of the body still has to be pulled out, of course.

“You know,” you grunt at the Degraver’s remains as you drag them out of the cockpit, “I think our recent weight loss program has shown some good results, you’re definitely looking better than you were before, but there’s--” you hoist with your legs, goddamn these things are ungainly, “--Still improvement to be made.” You pitch the rotund Reploid’s body over the side and drop into place, seizing the controls and pivoting to face the blue light that’s cutting through the obscuring smoke.

Time to show this Maverick the difference between a driver and a pilot.
>>
You slam the drive pedal, lurching forward at speeds the Loader was never intended for. Lifting arms pitched low like jousting spears, you maintain your heading as you clear the smoke, manic glee lighting your face as you see the shock in the approaching vulture’s eyes. You’re careening towards a head-on high velocity collision.

Or would be, except at the last moment you slam the loader arm controls straight down, the sudden momentum vaulting the heavy machine off the ground just enough to clear the front of Barbato’s Ride Chaser and smash straight into the Maverick driving it. You hear the Chaser fly past and explode as it collides at full force with the back wall. You also hear a strange beeping ah fuck no.

You barely clear the cockpit as the Ride Loader’s sides explode, landing in an ungainly tumble that rewards you with more than a few dents and scrapes as you get to your feet. Barbato’s already airborne in the corridor, grenade launcher trained on you and a trio of arachnoid bomb drones crawling your way.

“That was my favorite ride,” he snarls. “You’re dead, bitch.”

“I hear you, you’re angry, but can I be frank with you?” you ask, hand going to your holster. His face scrunches up in confusion. “I think -” and then you fire two shots into his arm, causing it to explode as the loaded grenade triggers. He slams back into the wall, glaring daggers as he raises the other arm. “I think,” you finish, “that if that’s your taste in vehicles, you might need a better hobby.”

He lobs a couple of grenades behind you, raining debris where they hit the ceiling. The drones continue their advance, scuttling forward quickly. You can try to finish this in the hall, or see if you can outrun him all the way down to the hangar to tip the scales in your favor.

> Cover is more valuable to you, stay in the controlled battlefield
> If you could reach a ship this would be game over for him, take the risk and run for it
> Other?
>>
>>4115422
> Cover is more valuable to you, stay in the controlled battlefield

We got an unknown flier that can manipulate gravity on the prowl, and that could slow down any ship we can get enough to get bombed out of the sky, I'd reckon. Best to keep the planes safe and deal with the vulture here.
>>
>>4115422
>If you could reach a ship this would be game over for him, take the risk and run for it.

This groundpounder shit is, ironically, for the birds. It might be a gamle, but I think it's riskier to duke it out with a pissed-off ossifragger. Better to make for a ship and get in our element.
>>
>>4115422
> Cover is more valuable to you, stay in the controlled battlefield
>>
>>4115422
>Make a run for the hanger
Im less on the ship and more on getting somewhere with less cover. As dangerous as the bombs are, if his weakness is just shooting his bombs before he throws them then a feint for a ship and a clear line of sight is all we need.
>>
Good work as always you guys. Been a crazy hundred and I hope we get another crazy hundred more. Have something that reminded me of India's "special" weapon
>>
>>4115422

Changing my plan to >>4115471: we feint him to death. He seems eager to keep us pinned, so if we can manipulate him into exposing his weakness then we should go for that. That said, stick to indoors: we don't need the flier coming in for backup. I also think the hangar isn't the best location, so if we can think of a better location to engage him in then we should lead him that way. Those spider drones are gonna be trouble if we don't stay on the move.
>>
>>4115480
Anode can never know about the Bindi Beam. Or Emerald. we cant even imagine a jokepacolypse of that magnitude.
>>
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>>4115389
don't fuckin fake me out like that
that's not the Cain Labs way

>>4115536
The Buster Bindi Beam's pretty respectable, I mean, Sigma had one..."respectable" may not be the optimal term but still
>>
>>4115422
> If you could reach a ship this would be game over for him, take the risk and run for it
>>
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>>4115556
That one's my fault, I went out to see some friends before the proofreading was done.
>>
>>4115422
>Cover is more valuable to you, stay in the controlled battlefield
>>
Voting closed, writing.
>>
>>4115439
>>4115471
>>4115484
>>4115797

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ybY00x49B4

Pivoting to fire, you see your bullet vaporize on his shields, barely causing a flicker. He retaliates by snap-firing a grenade your way, which you fail to pick out of the air with another bullet. You reach for a reload as you consider your options, leaping aside to avoid the shrapnel as the grenade blows.

You need a ship.

You leap out with a hand to your ear and a smirk on your face. “Sorry luv, my reinforcements are here,” you bluff, and the hulking bird Maverick turns to look behind him, following the direction you’re pointing. Wow, that should not have worked, but at least now you know he’s that stupid. You’re already running as you hear his angry footfalls behind you and see grenades fly past, forcing you to climb up on crates and jump to avoid them. You hear flapping wings getting closer, and you’re not quite close enough to the hangar door. Worse, you can see more bomb drones infesting the hallway ahead of you.

“Die!” comes Barbato’s voice from behind you, and you leap away from the crate, plunging down toward the bomb drones, narrowly escaping the vulture’s grip as he flies past overhead. He doesn’t have the clearance to execute a proper turn in this corridor, which buys you a bit of time, but the bombs are crawling your way from every angle. The Bindi Beam might work to disable them, but that still leaves you with a big ugly bird blocking your path.

And you have a better idea.

You jump the advancing ring of spidery drones and run straight at Barbato, firing a couple of bullets at his face. They register no damage, but it’s definitely annoying him. He’s more than happy to dive at you in response, coming in full throttle. You wait until he’s as close as you can get him, and then activate the Bindi Beam right in his eyes as you hurl yourself toward the wall, kicking off to just barely clear the air over him.
>>
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Bomb Barbato howls with rage as he collides with the floor, crushing several of his drones and inadvertently detonating others. You look at the column of smoke, hoping that’s done him in, but a pair of snapfired grenades fly toward you and a trio of red drones, moving much faster than the old ones, approach from the walls and ceiling. Goddammit. It was a good idea, but back to Plan A. You pop a couple of bullets in his direction, hoping to slow him, as you make a break for the hangar door, reaching it and punching the access panel to open it as quickly as it can.

You hear him coming behind you as the doors slide open, and you quickly squeeze through, not wanting to waste a second. The hangar lights flicker on, revealing a few grounded Geimköttur, some Scrivers and Scramblers, a few Draumur…

Oh sweet Helen Sharman they have a Martröth.

Your mind floods with uncertainties - does this one still have the factory defects? Would they have brought a defective craft out to a Mining World? Why wouldn’t a Mondenkind be flying this thing if it were in service? - but mainly you’re uncertain what took you so long to get into the cockpit. You tap on the lateral thrusters, feeling a shiver of delight when the ship slowly pivots toward the hangar doors, and as Barbato bursts through the opening you fire the skotonic blast cannons right into his fucking face, two pitch-black jets of energy taking him out clean.

You toggle the comms. “This is Maverick Hunter India to Anubis Control. Control, do you copy?”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3SS94qc_JO8

The Martröth lurches awkwardly as the cockpit fills with blue light, and you feel a momentary sense of dread as it pitches unsteadily, scraping the side of another ship. You look out to see another bird Reploid, paneled wings radiating that infernal glow in your direction.

“I copy,” purrs a smug voice through the comm.

> That’s a neat trick - but how will it handle full-power engines?
> He’s using his wings to produce that effect - pop the canopy and shoot him with your pistol
> You’re not sure this thing’s fully operational - but you can improvise something he won’t anticipate
> Other?
>>
>>4116213
so uh, what's a Martröth do?

>Throw some loose scrap, see if and in what direction they get caught by the tractor beam
I'm curious if his weakness is just drawing in solid weapons and bombs.

You're in an indoor hanger, looking at a bird reploid staying perfectly still with wings spread out. I'm leaning on just unloading all the dakka we have on hand, but something tells me the tractor beam will fizzle plasma.
>>
So those first two guys seem pretty crap for unique animal type combat Reploids. What are they, C-class? D?

>>4116213
> You’re not sure this thing’s fully operational - but you can improvise something he won’t anticipate
>He's connected to your comm channel. TAUNT.
>>
>>4116213
>> That’s a neat trick - but how will it handle full-power engines?

FULL POWAH!
>>
>>4116221
The Martröð is an Icelandic spacecraft model that's the next generation up from the Draumur. It's equipped with skotonic weaponry, which is very hard for conventional equipment to locate and avoid as skotons absorb light. Very few are in service, as the line was a bit ambitious for its time and the stock model had numerous defects. Working ones with customized repairs are better craft than your Tetra.
>>
>>4116213
>You’re not sure this thing’s fully operational - but you can improvise something he won’t anticipate

>>4116222
Activate Shittalk.EXE
>>
>>4116213
>You’re not sure this thing’s fully operational - but you can improvise something he won’t anticipate

I don't know if that smugness is because he knows something about the ship we don't, or if it's because he's just smug in general... But I don't like it.

Wipe that smug off of his face.
>>
>>4116213
Supporting >>4116222. Fill his comms with us laughing at his dumb ass. We're not trapped in here with him, he's trapped in here with us.

If he's using his tractor beam to pull us in, what's to stop him from tractoring in projectiles?
>>
>>4116221
>>4116222
>>4116379
>>4116701
>>4116931

Well, shit.

You weren’t expecting to be caught in a grounded and possibly busted ship by a Maverick capable of trapping you in midair, and you admit to yourself that this could have gone better. Judging from his position, he knows the effective arc of the primary blast cannons, since he’s keeping himself well out of it. Even if you tried to shoot past him, you couldn’t hit anything that might impact him.

Not wanting to chance the engines, you quickly consider your options; a couple of taps on the console confirm that this thing doesn’t have any missiles loaded, so that’s out; the hardpoints have nothing loaded; the guns have the same issue as the cannons. There’s a bomb, but at this range... Sensors, scatter field, retros, antigravitic drives, all in good order; if only you…

Fuck it. You’ve got a bomb.
>>
You punch in the order and the ship protests, but you hit the override and the bomb deploys, rolling out and dropping to the ground. Interesting… looks like this Maverick’s trick has limitations. His eyes follow it downward.

“Is that…”

“It is!” you sing cheerfully.

“Are you insane? We’re in an enclosed bay!”

“Not for long!” You jam the trigger and the bomb goes off, propelling the Martröth into the air. The blue light winks out and you quickly snap on the engines, roaring forward and rolling to stabilize. There must be a door in here somewhere. You just have to find it before you crash into a wall.

Behind you, the bird Maverick gets to his feet, paneled wings spreading out once more as the blue light swings forward. This time it doesn’t catch you - it grabs up a nearby cargo crate, which launches toward you from 6 o’clock. More debris follows as he approaches. Doesn’t look like he can fly while he’s engaging that gravity beam, though. That’s something. You fire the blast cannons as you yaw toward what looks like a sealed aperture - BOOM.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgNGtGI-XbM

Success! The Martröth flies free, over the crystalline bluffs of Anubis, and you tap the comms on to try the humans again.

“Anubis Control? This is Maverick Hunter India. I’m piloting a Martröth and there’s a hostile on my tail; I think it’s Phoenix.”

The comm crackles and a man’s voice comes through. “Anubis Control, we copy. Registering three Draumur entering airspace, refusing hails.”

“Stand by on ground cannons. If you see bees coming, swat ‘em for me, would you?”

“Copy.” Excellent. That will give you some cover fire, now where’s that bastard gotten to?
>>
A barrage of lasers plunges down at your canopy, forcing you to yaw to catch the last few on the wing surface. He’s already caught up with you, paneled wings spread wide and a blue glow washing through them like a broken disco ball wrapped around a neon light. You pitch up, but somehow he’s matching you, getting ahead of you, spraying lasers as he goes. You roll and drop, pitching down sharply, and still the bird is keeping pace.

Your comm crackles. “A Reploid pilot? How foolish. It takes wings to truly fly.”

“I know,” you tell him, “that’s why I stole a pair.” You fire the blast cannons, black beams ripping through the sky as the bird Maverick rises to avoid them, retaliating with his own lasers.

“This is the problem with humans. They could have given you everything you wanted, like me. Instead they made you like them. Weak and grounded.”

“Yeah, well, look what they made out of you. A real cock.” You switch off the antigrav to dodge his next salvo, then roll and pitch down to get him in line and fire, lighting up his shields.

“You’ve already lost, Hunter. Sigma himself set us this task. Already he will have conquered Earth. Join us - join your own kind.” He breaks off the attack briefly, hovering in midair, apparently giving you time to consider. You bank around for the next run at him, aware that the enemy craft are drawing closer. The tower’s cannons start to fire as you size up your next move.

“Didn’t realize my job was delivering news to garbage,” you counter, “but you know your boss, yeah? X retired him. Ages ago.” Still satisfying the second time around, though he doesn’t flip out like Viper did. His lasers snap toward you as you come - and then the blue light flashes out, arresting your movement and catching you dead in midair.

“No matter,” he smirks. “Xenarthra came to power, then Dragon, then Sigma. Perhaps this is the hour of Rays Phoenix. But not for you, sadly.” He raises his arms toward his own paneled wings. “Your time in the sky is up, I’m afraid. You could never hope to compete with a real flier.” His lasers activate, refracting off the mirrored panels to bombard your Martröth with a hundred smaller rays. You can’t even look out the canopy, the onslaught of light is too great. Instead, you look down at your monitors. You grin.
>>
“A real flier? Let me tell you about a real flier. A real flier puts mobility over cheap tricks.” You fire the blast cannons, which pass harmlessly beneath him but draw his eye. “A real flier doesn’t need to fuck with gravity in order to stay airborne.” You add the guns to the mix, a salvo that can’t reach him but comes much closer.

BOOM.

Phoenix plunges out of the sky in a cloud of smoke and debris, the ship lurching forward and down in gutwrenching fashion as you find the ground coming your way much too quickly for the second time in the same day. This time, though, your ship isn’t missing its tail, and you pull out of the dive and slow for a vertical landing, jumping out of the cockpit to approach where the Maverick has collided with the ground. Blue light flickers and hums through the shattered glassy wing segments as his torso lifts and drags slightly. He looks up at you, disbelieving.

“Oh yes, last thing, important tip: a real flier knows to avoid surface-to-air guns.” You train your pistol on him and fire, glad to have had a frank exchange with a tryhard about his flaws. Patting your trusty sidearm - and privately resolving to never be forced into using the Bindi again - you walk back toward the control tower, hoping the humans have sorted out the rest of the Maverick issues.

A short time later, you’re in Astro Cygnus’s office on the Lamp, the big bird clearly impressed with the ship you salvaged and your overall mission effectiveness. At least five Mavericks retired by your count, several rogue Mondenkind retrieved from Anubis Station, and the mining world back on its feet. You expect to get a nice chunk of Zenny for this one.

“I have to say, Lieutenant, this was exemplary work. You’re going to receive a commendation in your file. I’m also going to - “
>>
>>4117034
RIP Barbato. If he wasn't dead yet he certainly is now.
>>
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You blink, snapping out of your memories and back to the present. What did he say?

“I’m going to have to send you down,” Cygnus says sadly. You snap your head up to look him dead in the eye, daydreams of last year’s epic mission clearing out as your cold new reality dawns on you.

“Send me down? Earth?” He nods. “Why?

“There’s just no call up here for an officer with your skillset. We haven’t had a major disturbance at any of our patrol points in, what…”

“Ten months,” you calculate bitterly.

“About that, yes. Maybe a few things more recently, but you take my point. The Hunter Killers severely damaged our numbers on the surface. They need you more than we do.”

You feel hollow, your mind registering the sensation of freefall as your thoughts race. “Where am I going? 7th?” You know the answer already; you hate the answer, but you need this bit of hope. Cygnus kills it dead with a shake of his head.

“I tried, India, I really did. Flaminglow won’t budge. I spoke with Commander Frog of 4th Overland - “

“The GROUND POUNDERS?!” You’re in his face like he doesn’t have four feet on you, fuck rank and deference. “You can’t do that to me!”

“I talked with Frog. He’ll make sure you have access to aircraft down there. Needs you to help with sorties.” He reads your face and his tone hardens slightly. “It was this or rescind your commission. Listen to me, Frog’s more accommodating than you realize. You’ll be surprised at how well you’ll fit in down there.”

Down There. The two words like a death sentence. The next day you’re on a shuttle headed Down There, your heart sinking further with every lost kilometer of altitude. You can’t remember if you did anything else yesterday, spoke to anyone, said any goodbyes. You don’t remember what you packed or what you left behind. For the first time in your life, you don’t feel like a real flier.

But you will not let them know that. You will not let anyone ground you.
>>
That's one time hop down, but plenty of other options to go. Which other story shall we explore?

> A second chance making his first impression
> An immovable force facing an unstoppable object
> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
> A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
> A student of destruction forced to face the master
> A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
> A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
>>
>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
Is this Valdivieso?
>>
>>4117088
> A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear

We better get to play through all of these.
>>
>>4117076

Welcome to the Fourth.

>>4117088

> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
>>
>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power

Oh, splendid! If I thought we were doing more than one, I wouldn't have been taking up the file limit with my replies, though. Alas.
>>
>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
>>4117093
I think so
>>
>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power

This is just Cain Labs telling Command that his new tie isn't working, right?
>>
>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
>>
>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
>>
>>4117088
>> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
>>
>>4117088
God damn did I love that one.

> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
Schwarz? Voting for this either way.
>>
>>4117029
A BOMB
https://youtu.be/L_qMLL7KyjA?t=13
>>
>>4117159

You think HC has /power/ over Cain Labs??
>>
>>4117781
It's been known to happen.
>>
>>4117781
I don't kinkshame.
>>
>>4117088
Is the Mother of Monsters the Commander who commissioned the Mortales? Is the Brother putting his life on the line Emerald, or Schwarz?

Going to be interesting trying to figure out who is what.
>>
>>4117781
I've seen how the two interact, HC definitely has power of CL. A power to rival Metal Gear.
>>
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>>4117093
>>4117116
>>4117128
>>4117128
>>4117159
>>4117166
>>4117170

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9w-O60x1bYk

The doors open, and you stride into the room, ignoring the sea of devices raised up on either side, ambitious citizen journalists globalizing the search for a sign of weakness or an ounce of remorse in your expression. Waste of time, but if fools could learn, this whole exercise could have been avoided. Whatever word they’ve chosen for it this time, you’ve already pegged it for what it really is. Theater.

They give you a seat off center, to make you seem lesser, situating you between a fat man in a too-new suit and a bright young thing in crisp military dress, who flashes you a false smile. You’re sure your attorney gave you the names of these fools and hypocrites who plan to explain why their naive optimism should be trusted. You couldn’t care less. Keep your smile, girl. Enjoy it while you can. That’s how we treat children, after all.

You take your chair behind a folded paper standee blazoned “Cmdr. I. Valdivieso,” scanning the faces of the 17 people who have convened this whole performance. He’s up there, of course, offset from center - like you - as though his damned creations weren’t at the crux of it all. As though he somehow isn’t responsible. Damned old fool.

A gavel taps lightly. “This special meeting of the United Nations Maverick Hunter Initiative Committee will now come to order. The matter under investigation is the Special Task Group and concerns regarding Order 7 for the development of its members.” You don’t bother looking around to see which of them is talking, your eyes boring into the skull of the man who isn’t.

“I understand we have Commander Valdivieso with us here today. I would like to invite her to make an opening statement at this time.”

“Leave it alone, Imanga,” your lawyer’s voice sounds in your ear. “It’s not a trial but it’s still on the record. Follow the strategy we went over.”

Will you make a statement?

> Yes, keep it brief and civil - for now.
> Yes, to register your protest.
> No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
> Other?
>>
>>4118645
> No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
They didn't listen before, why waste the air?

>Damned old fool.
Dr. Cain?
>>
>>4118645
>No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
Getting a look at MHQ Cain, cool.
>>
>>4118645
> No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
Silence is a statement.
>>
>>4118645
>No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
Valdivieso ain't nobody's bitch.
>>
>>4118645
> No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
Incidentally, what's our take on our lawyer?
>>
>>4118645
>No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
>>
>>4118645
>No, don’t give them the satisfaction
You'll have time enough to make all the statements you need today
>>
>>4118645
>Yes, to register your protest.
>>
>>4118878
You've known Lauren Moss professionally for half a decade, and she's considered to be quite good. She's proven effective in filing motions and pursuing injunctions when you need to pressure some section of international bureaucracy or other, even if she disagrees with your disruptive style.

Needless to say, this isn't the first time she's tried to talk you down from making trouble.
>>
>>4118645

...So...for those of us whose MMX lore is weak, can we have some basic context for when this vignette is likely to be, and what we should know about Valdivieso coming into this?
>>
>>4119661
She's one of HC and Cain's ocs, I think. Commissioned the Mortales
>>
>>4119661
When Sigma went Mav, the Hunter organization was in tatters. While X was kicking ass, the Hunters as a whole were not doing so well. Then leadership was passed to the resident Reploids are Dangerous hardass, Valdivieso.

She had the Los Mortales made, a unit of extra strict assholes, then put the Hunters into working order. Nobody was really happy about it, but nobody really thought they could do a better job.

Not sure when we are right now, but the leader after Valdivieso was Wong, who had big shoes to fill and really didn't want the job.
>>
>>4119661

>>4119685 is mostly correct save on a few points.

http://mhq.wikidot.com/people:imanga-valdivieso
http://mhq.wikidot.com/maverick-hunter-commander

Sigma actually came later.
>>
>>4119685
Valdivieso helped found the Hunters and was the first commander. It sounds like Los Mortales aren't complete at this point so there's still some time before she steps down.
>>
>>4119836
oh whoops, sigma came after Wong.
>>
>>4118683
>>4118695
>>4118712
>>4118794
>>4118878
>>4118958
>>4119058

You say nothing, your stony gaze looking past the council at the back wall. The lawyer sighs in your ear, but you can tell this was better than she’d been hoping for. After a brief, awkward silence, the speaker resumes, and you tune him out as he goes into the background of the Maverick Hunters as an organization. You scan the faces at the dais; a representative from the African Union, the Russian Coalition, the European Union… America, of course. How many of them represent the same countries who rushed to be part of Order 7?

A series of screens descend around the room, and the fat man next to you stands, a reek of sweat stinging your nose as he shuffles papers with damp hands. The chairman of the whole farce introduces him as Dr. Someone from a university. As he activates the screens, you realize that this small nothing of a man is who they have chosen to prosecute you.

Poor fool, out of his league.

“The Order 7, uh, Initiative… it’s, and, there was a lot of money, of the budget…” he stammers, “that she, uh, Commander Valdivieso, she committed to these. This board, you members, the members, sorry, approved that budgetary requisition, and on the basis of certain standards.” He toggles the screens, showing blueprints of your chosen eight. “The preliminary findings of the, uh, the investigative committee, they found that Commander Valdivieso interfered in the…” he looks down, shuffling papers and pointedly avoiding your eye, “this bidding process, of the states that bid for Order 7. We have correspondence,” he presses a button, the screens shifting to show archival emails, “which indicates that the, uh, the Commander inappropriately favored certain bidders, certain bidders the ones, who accepted this document as part of the process.” He presses another button, and the Order 7 addendum appears on screen. The crowd murmurs, as though the wall of text is some dramatic turn and not regular discovery. You curse their stupidity under your breath.

“Imanga,” warns the voice in your head. An aide is handing out water bottles. You wave him off.

The chair recognizes another speaker, and the fat man drops into his chair, swigging the beverage greedily. He seems to sit straighter when he notices your gaze, and his head swivels away just a bit too far to regard the man who has stood.
>>
“This document, named as the Order 7 addendum and presented here as Exhibit B, specifies that bids would be given priority by the Maverick Hunter Commander based on two criteria not originally approved as part of Order 7,” the new man says. This one’s not a doctor, for whatever that means to these people. “Firstly, that their performance standards should, quote, exceed market and nonmarket comparables based on domestic guidelines. Secondly, that the personality matrix should include a specific hostile response to autonomous machines deemed capable of posing a threat to human life.” He pauses to let the crowd murmur, the gavel tapping to get things back in order. “I wonder, Commander, if you could tell us what is meant by nonmarket comparables based on domestic guidelines, this first part?”

You don’t know who this boy is to ask you a goddamn thing and expect a civil reply. Ms. Moss is hissing in your ear but you’ve tuned her out as well. If they want you to play along in this fool’s inquest, they’ve got another thing coming. You don’t so much as turn your head to acknowledge him.

“I thought not,” he oozes. “Just in case you might have forgotten what that language would indicate to the bidders, we’ve invited Lt. Col Annika Bell to explain how this proffer would be interpreted. Col. Bell, if you would please?” The bright young thing on your other side stands, flashing you the smallest of condescending looks before beaming brightly for the cameras. Pull faces at your elders all you like, child. Tell yourself you weren’t picked for your legs and your smile if that makes you feel more than you are.

“To be clear, members of the committee, members of the media, members of the public,” she begins, an empty shell coated in public relations expertise, “nonmarket standards refer to military standards, and domestic guidelines would mean the military requirements of the country in question. This memo here, which Commander Valdivieso had her bidders agree to, requires that they design Reploids above military-grade, to exceed military specifications and regulations.” Her face is large on the screens, so the crowd can see her act, the smile melting just fast enough, the eyes widening just sincerely enough. “This memo requires them to break national military limits on performance.”
>>
If the crowd murmured for the other two speakers, now they’re rumbling properly. The gavel taps. “To the second point,” she continues, apparently uninvited but obviously preplanned, “the specific hostile response that was identified in this memo is a hatred for Reploids and Mechaniloids, no matter their function.”

“The addendum says they must be, quote, deemed capable of posing a threat. Surely not all Reploids meet this criteria?”

“Not as you or I would understand it, sir, but the definition was set by Ms. Valdivieso - Commander, I apologize,” you ignore the deliberate barb - “and per her definition, all Reploids and all Mechaniloids are a serious threat to human life.”

“And this hatred, is it a violent hatred?”

“Very violent, sir. The members of the Special Task Group have been cited in numerous complaints from the public for the way in which they operate. With your permission, we have some documented examples, which we would like to enter into the record as Exhibits C through J.”

“Proceed.” She walks around the desks to the front, sparing you a look that blends smugness and contempt as she takes the screen controller.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iXDuzqTATy8

The screens light up, each showing a different scene, and the room erupts into gasps and murmurs as cameras flash. Rush Chevalski, smashing through a skyscraper at supersonic speeds as he chases a Maverick, glass flying around him. Flash Rezador, cutting through a train and narrowly missing the passengers with his vibroblades. Glace Requin, freezing a harbour in Florida. Hotfoot Rabbit’s molten wake as he bounds down a city street to catch his prey. Dreadbolt Skunk’s lightning blacking out a section of London. Crash Cormorant… well, as you watch the footage of him brutalizing the wreckage of an already-downed Mechaniloid, even you can somewhat agree that it’s a bit much.
>>
Scenes selected to show collateral damage, to highlight fear, panic, unintentional injury. Collected from the PAD cameras of a thousand civilian passers-by to concoct the worst kind of fraudulent journalism, naked sensationalism presented as sober review. You’ve no time for any of it.

The gavel hammers down now, commanding order. “Alright Imanga, this will be your turn now. Go over the presentation as we discussed. This is the best case you can make.” You stand, walking toward the dais. Lt. Col Bell puts her arm out as though to stop you, force you back to your position to make your case, but the look you give her could melt lead and freeze magma, and she pulls her hand back like you tried to bite it off.

The room goes silent. You have the floor.

> Fine, they want a show? Give them a show. You’re done with idiots, let them know it.
> Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.
> You won’t let them get your anger or force you to make excuses. Educate these fools.
>>
>>4120587
>> Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.

They're banging the table. We don't have to.
>>
>>4120587
> Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.

They're obviously expecting us to lash out, lets not give them that satisfaction
Let them all squirm under our cold spiteful gaze
>>
>>4120587
>Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.
>>
>>4120587
>Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.
>>
>>4120587
>You won’t let them get your anger or force you to make excuses. Educate these fools.
>>
>>4120587
>You won’t let them get your anger or force you to make excuses. Educate these fools.

Fuck 'em up.
>>
>>4120587
>Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.
>>
>>4120587
>>You won’t let them get your anger or force you to make excuses. Educate these fools.
>>
>>4120587
>Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.
>>
>>4120587
> You won’t let them get your anger or force you to make excuses. Educate these fools.
>>
>>4120587
>Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.

Don't concede a damn thing
>>
Your back is turned to the committee, addressing your remarks to the room. Printed sheets have a pleasant texture and realness to them, helping you ground your attitude. You’ve been over every word of this speech, and although you’d much rather give the fools the lecture they so richly deserve, Moss did her work well. You do not bother regarding the panel of children, peacocks, blowhards, and know-nothings they have assembled to indict your command, launching into the presentation with a will to pace yourself and keep your temper in check. You press a button on the podium, and the screens call up the images Moss prepared.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpMg1upld0w

“Two hundred years ago, Ray Bradbury wrote of a flying machine, the invention of which caused great fear in the Emperor of China. The land was protected by a Great Wall, and it was feared that those who saw the machine would make others like it, for terrible purpose, and the Wall could not stop them. The Emperor had the machine burned to ash, the inventor put to death. It was meant to be a wonder. It became a source of terror.” You pause, looking up from the paper. You know this next part by heart.

“We are the wall, and to date no machine has soared higher than we can defend against. Every day, however, the greatest scientific minds aim higher, never thinking what thing they might set in flight. The wall can only go so high before catastrophe. We race to respond to the newest threat, the most modern monster. We are reactive, as we must be if we are limited. We are reactive, and we are fortunate that we have been strong enough for what has come. It cannot last.” Performance reviews, year-over-year, scroll on the screens to your left. To your right, incident reports, organized by increasing severity.
>>
You harden your stare, letting your gaze burn the little girl soldier with her smug perfect smile. “Lt. Colonel Bell said it: my order was to build soldiers stronger than the best military Reploids made in Japan, in America, in England and France and Germany and elsewhere. The best military Reploids. This committee sees them as the peak of what a Reploid should be - they are afraid that I have gone beyond this limit. I see them as the measure of the next Maverick.” The screens display press releases from manufacturers, boasting of exceeding past performance, beating previous standards, setting new records in speed, strength, firepower.

The crowd bursts into murmurs, and your temper slips just a hair. “I am SPEAKING,” you thunder, the room going silent as cameras flash. “I am speaking, whether or not you will hear me. No make of Reploid, no developer, no laboratory has a perfect record. Any Reploid can become a Maverick. You have made machines of war and given them capabilities that will push my best human forces to the breaking point, if ever they should go rogue. I have responded as I am charged to do - I have made machines that can stop them, when the time comes.”

Your voice is cold and steely now, the words sharp and crisp. You will be heard clearly. This shall be marked for posterity. You will not have anyone claiming you were not clear enough, not thorough enough, when damnation comes to them in the form of their own creations.

“Innovation and progress. These you celebrate, you are proud of this. Very well. Remember, then, that with the resources you have given me, I made the most sound decision - Hunters built to today’s standards are already obsolete tomorrow. The Special Task Group is composed of Hunters who will defeat today’s threats, and tomorrow’s, and those in the days to come. I did not order them to secure the present. I ordered them to secure the future. That is my mandate as the Commander this committee saw fit to install - to secure the future. There is no regulation, no bylaw, no code, no clause, to call into question my authority to do this.”
>>
Time to conclude. “You founded the Maverick Hunters to protect against a new threat to human life, to peace, to the global order. To do this, we must know that a new threat may come that is not within normal limits to protect against. What will we do when a Reploid becomes Maverick by choice? When it is more than one? When they organize, and now instead of criminals you have terrorists? This initiative is damned by good intention and feeble wills, that set limits on those who must protect people from the monstrous children of innovation and progress. I have acted upon my mandate, made good use of the resources you have provided, and this committee has no rule under which to sanction me.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FsWPSFsto5A

Papers fold in your hand. Back in your pocket. Silence in your ear. Darkness on the screens. You remember this moment, years later, just as you remember what came next. You remember…

> The bloody moment of vindication
> The day you left it all behind.
> The night you truly met the future.
>>
>>4122509
>The night you truly met the future.
Damn, this is a tough choice. Both day and night are good.
>>
>>4122509
> The night you truly met the future.
Its one thing to prepare for the future, its another to see if its enough. Time to see if thats the case.
>>
>>4122509
>The bloody moment of vindication.
>>
>>4122492
>peacocks
Interesting choice of species for a masspro diplomat model

>>4122509
> The day you left it all behind.
Though I think I recall the first option tying directly into her eventual stepping down...
>>
>>4122509
> The night you truly met the future
>>
>>4122509
>The night you truly met the future.
>>
>>4122509
>> The bloody moment of vindication

Time to watch it all burn.

> This initiative is damned by good intention and feeble wills...

Actually, I think this initiative is damned, in large part, by having made a bunch of Reploid /assholes/...

I mean, really, is there anything about being better, faster, stronger, that means they also have to be meaner?

Also, CL, a question (though perhaps a dumb one): Has anyone tried making a Reploid with a dumb kill switch—like, a bit of hardware that will cut off their LIFE cell or some such thing if it receives the right RF signal, totally isolated from any of their own internal processes?
>>
>>4122509
>The night you truly met the future.
>>
>>4122890
>I mean, really, is there anything about being better, faster, stronger, that means they also have to be meaner?
It means that if they DO go mav, they'll just as likely kill other mavs as they will humans. It's hard to work together with people you hate, particularly when you lack impulse control as mavs tend to.

And kill switches, besides the obvious person rights violations, are the first thing any mav tries to remove.
>>
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>>4122890
>I mean, really, is there anything about being better, faster, stronger, that means they also have to be meaner?
Now you're coming to the crux of it.

>Also, CL, a question (though perhaps a dumb one): Has anyone tried making a Reploid with a dumb kill switch—like, a bit of hardware that will cut off their LIFE cell or some such thing if it receives the right RF signal, totally isolated from any of their own internal processes?

The technology is certainly there for it--but it was hastily deemed unethical, and not long after, unlawful. Less dire such failsafes exist, such as weapon codelocks we've seen onscreen, and similar devices shared between Reploids who "look after" each other.

More advanced Reploids would boast sophisticated control over their own processes and systems in the name of bodily autonomy that any baked-in failsafes could be rather swiftly overcome.
>>
>>4122890
To be fair, if they weren't assholes. chances are one of them might get fooled by a mock surrender and get attacked from behind and/or let the target escape to cause more trouble.

And I wouldn't want THAT particular egg to land in my face if I was the result of a multi-billion dollar project.
>>
>>4122890
I can see the value in it. It cuts down on a lot of the issues X had in that day of Sigma video; hesitation to make the shot, alongside not being able to attack a friend. This was before the first Maverick war, so I could see hesitation being a issue for the first gen. If they just hate all reploids and mechanoids, it slims down methods to recruit them and more a risk than a reward.
Course, that creates a lot of issues. Not just what we seen, but the sort of personality traits that would be needed to match what Ms Valdivieso wants. Self Loathing due to one's nature, Elitism because they see themselves above the others, the lovely mix that is Rezador himself, and not seeing reploids as 'people'.
Hell, the 'self hating' part gives a good reason for why Dreadbolt has decided to become a drunk.
>>
>>4122509
> The night you truly met the future.
I mean, even the chance that this is the time Valdivieso talked to Sigma makes the vote worth it.
>>
>>4122509
>The night you truly met the future.
>>
>>4122509
>The bloody moment of vindication

It's not enough to be right. You also have to gloat.
>>
>>4122509
> The night you truly met the future.
>>
>>4122509
>The night you truly met the future.

I'm intrigued to see what this means. X? Sigma? Someone else?
>>
>>4123445

Commander Valdivieso meets Largescale Mustang.
>>
>>4123682
That is a special sort of future I don't think Valivieso ever planned for or wanted.
>>
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>>4122529
>>4122731
>>4122863
>>4122879
>>4122891
>>4123182
>>4123277
>>4123426
>>4123445

The call - THAT call - had come late in the afternoon. The call you’d been avoiding for three weeks. You’d already pegged it as some kind of angle, some kind of token acknowledgement for an old lady and a media coup for a young robot, and you’d be damned if you’d participate in a machine’s self-aggrandizing PR stunt. None of the others had ever tried to reach out - certainly not the idiot who named a medal in your “honor” but was too afraid to involve you in the process. You’d pity him more if his own failures hadn’t made his death inevitable.

This one… he’d made quite a stir in the media, to the point that you couldn’t miss it. Even the usual professional bile-spewers, the Reinhart Ngs of the world, didn’t seem to have it in them to do less than sing the new boy’s praises. Your personal assistant - oh, to be back in the days when you didn’t need one of those - had been keeping the jackals from your door, keeping cameras from shoving into your face, microphones from jousting each other to win your comment on the latest greatest from Cain and his tinker troupe. She told you about the call first; then it was Moss, reaching out to try and set up a connection.

In a moment of boredom, maybe, or curiosity, you allowed Moss to strike a deal. Since then, you’ve been avoiding the phone. You might not have even picked it up this time, only you’d been expecting to hear back from Moss about a private security license. You grabbed it without thinking, your customary greeting: “Talk.”
>>
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“Commander Valdivieso?” The voice you hear each time you shut off the datapad, walk away from the newsstand, remove yourself from the noise of the world you hoped would never come to pass.

“Speaking.”

“Good afternoon, Commander. This is Sigma. Your attorney said you would take a few minutes to speak with me?”

Well. There it was. Tell him no. Tell him off. Tell him he’s a monster born from an idiot’s dreams.

“What took you so long?” Brief. Cold. Not your fault, nor your problem.

“I apologize, Commander. I’ve been trying to reach you on Lusaka hours; your schedule didn’t come over to my office properly. Ms. Moss let me know that you’re in Ibarra presently, so I waited to call until a reasonable hour.”

From Geneva? Must be midnight where he is. Mind, machines don’t need sleep.

“Technical issues, is it?” you deadpan. He laughs, a rich and genuine sound. How much money went into making him sound that human?

“Yes, we could say that. I don’t want to impose on too much of your time, Commander; there were just a few things I was hoping to get your counsel on.”

“My counsel.”

“Your experience in this role. Commander Java provided me with her own perspectives, of course, but there hasn’t been a true military mind in this office since you left it.” He’s not wrong.

“I can give you a few minutes out of an old woman’s busy schedule,” you relent. “What do you need?”

“S-Class Threats,” he says soberly. “You had insight into the evolution of risk long before anyone would pay attention to you.” The boy has done his homework - not that it’s hard for a machine. “The number of incidents we’ve seen since… I doubt anyone has tracked the spread more closely than you have.” Correct, child. You’ve already placed your caller on that list. “I’m hoping you can help me develop the case for a threat class beyond those.”

Beyond?

You’ve had your concerns, of course, prepared countless personal observations, talked with those who would still give an ex-Commander the time of day. Nobody knew any of this, though. You clear your throat. “I’ve a few ideas. We had S for things beyond human ability. I had designed my top Hunters to keep ahead of the latest advances, but there’s no budget to keep that pace forever - eventually we would need an S+, things beyond the ability of any one machine.”
>>
Looking back on the conversation, you remember that “when” is what sold you on this boy. What was supposed to be a quick consultation evolved over the next three hours, as he forwarded you data models and presentations suggesting your worst fears were just a drop in the bucket, asking you for targeted suggestions to evolve responses to these worst-case scenarios. You go over mandatory evacuations, international legal regimes, Measure 81 superweapons, OLEL countermeasures, restricted technologies. He even brings up several projects you didn’t think he knew about. At one point he pauses, hesitating just a moment.

“Commander, if I may ask - how would you kill me, were I part of an open conflict?”

You laugh openly. The perfect question. “Hold on, boy.” You tap your datapad and transmit the entire game plan, how to cleanly murder the most powerful robot in the world. You see him on the screen reviewing it.

“That was quick,” he muses.

“Had it on hand since you were built.” Your tone goes a touch provocative. “Does that concern you?”

“Not at all.” And strangely enough, you can hear in his too-human voice that it truly doesn’t - you hear relief, if anything.

He wanted to know someone has thought of it.

The call draws to a close, but he’s got one final order of business. “If I may, Commander, I believe you still have some friends you keep in touch with. Busy friends. Some of them spend a lot of time in the news - sometimes in disagreements with friends of mine.” The tone is a hair too polite to be anything other than what you think it is. “I don’t have their numbers, but I’d like to send you some transponders they could use to call me if needed.”

You nod. “And if they don’t want to?”

“It’s a long trip to Geneva,” he says genially, with just a hint of iron. “I don’t need them to visit, so long as they keep in touch. Let’s say seven days for them to let me know they’re doing alright.” A bit more iron. “And if one of those transponders should not be in service after seven days, you will have one fewer friend. Do you understand my position?”

“Perfectly. I’ll make sure they stop by.”
>>
He thanks you for your time, promises to call again, and surprisingly, you find yourself looking forward to it. You flashed back then, as you remember now, that inquiry, that farce of a show trial, ending dramatically and abruptly as Shade Tanuki appeared at your side. You had taken the remote from the sweaty man, switching the screens to show the horrific ongoing attack. The first word of the first S-Class Threat. That day, before the council and the world, you stood and delivered a single scathing question to the committee.

The new boy really did do his homework, as he calls you back to it. “Do I have your blessing, then, Commander Valdivieso?” Sigma asked, just a trace of mirth in that measured calm. You chuckled despite yourself.

“Commander Sigma, you have my blessing to do my goddamn job.”
>>
Two stories told, but others yet to explore. What window into history shall we open next?

> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
> A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
> A second chance making his first impression
> A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
> An immovable force facing an unstoppable object
> A student of destruction forced to face the master
>>
>>4124670
>An immovable force facing an unstoppable object.
>>
>>4124670
>A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
you guys are nuts
>>
>>4124670
>> A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down

Let's go for this one this time.
>>
>>4124670
>An immovable force facing an unstoppable object

Cain Lab isn't as think as you drunk he is.
>>
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>>4124680
We try!

Also, imagine for a moment how the conversation with Rezador and Sigma went. Or the one with Cormorant.
>>
>>4124670
>> A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
>>
>>4124744
I imagine those conversations are easier when you can legitimately bitchslap them through a skyscraper.
>>
>>4124670
>A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
>>
>>4124670
> A second chance making his first impression
Conda?
>>
>>4124670
> A student of destruction forced to face the master
>>
>>4124670
>A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
This has gotta be one of the 'hunds
>>
>>4124670
>A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
>>
>>4124670
>A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
>>
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>>4124670
> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
This one we've waited some time for
>>
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>>4125850
Indeed we have
>>
Closing vote, writing.
>>
>>4125850
Still think that one is Em, personally. He has been looking for Diamond's killer, after all.
>>
>>4125929
I feel like that'd be too recent, though.

The furthest left field guess I'd have is that it's Protoman, but that's kind of got the opposite issue... Schwarz seems likely.
>>
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>>4125935
Don't hurt me this way.
>>
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>>4124680
>>4124701
>>4124754
>>4124848

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wanoOx_vAXA

“Scramble.”

You felt freedom when the command came, a breath of fresh air, an incongruous burst of hope welling up inside you despite the knowledge that people’s lives were in danger. A cloud of despair had settled around you ever since Bono’s betrayal, since your friend turned on his principles and became a mass murderer, leaving you mired in a web of suspicion, your wings clipped.

You are Lamplight Parrot, and today you have been given a chance to escape your fallen friend’s shadow.

African Union forces reported a Maverick attack in Lusaka which local police response was unable to contain. An all-too common story of late, since the world turned upside down. They’re fortunate that local command could spare three of you, though you suspect the commissioner had to beg and plead to get more than one. You’re probably only being dispatched because they wanted more support.

You meet up with Shocklight Fringe from the 7th and a Maori man from the 9th who introduces himself as Blue. Lusaka has a preset arrival point for Hunters, and the three of you beam over together.

What awaits is a calamity.

You look on the monitors to see that a skyscraper has toppled, and flying Mechaniloids are collecting debris and dropping it in the streets. Sirens blare as emergency crews zip around the city, air support meeting Jammingers and ground support dodging Spikys. It looks like the Mavericks have brought Bomb Beens to mine the ground. Cameras are tracking more structural damage every minute, and some of the screens have already gone dark.

“What the hell is any of this?” Fringe mutters.

Blue is already at the ops station, pulling up records and a map of the city. “AU air assets show en route to engage the Mechaniloids.” He fires up his personal buffer, an all-too-thin electromagnetic shield wrapping around him. “We can thin the herd first, but I see no Reploid on these monitors.”

“Something took down that tower,” you point out. “Bomb?”

“If it was, they must be out or there would be more damage by now,” Fringe muses. “So we’ve got to take out some of those Mechaniloids, locate the Maverick, and help the first responders with that downed building.” He looks at the two of you. “Any preference?”

You consider your capabilities; you’ve got powerful spotlights and a relatively decent flight system, though Fringe’s is considerably better. Offensively… your primary armament, the Scrap Seed, lets you fire an accreting pellet from your mouth that will absorb loose debris to form a solid projectile. It’s not great, but given the state of the city, you won’t lack for ammunition. Your buster, a basic P260 calibrated for humidity and heat, is little better than a sidearm.

> I’ll scout to locate the Maverick
> I’ll go help the first responders
> I’ll sweep the Mechaniloids
>>
>>4126050
>I'll sweep the Mechaniloids.
>>
>>4126050
> I’ll go help the first responders
>>
>>4126050
>>4126050
> I’ll go help the first responders
I think given his tool set, We'll be best at dealing with the mines and ground mechaniloids.
>>
>>4126050
>I’ll sweep the Mechaniloids
I think taking the debris right out from the mechaniloid grabbers will prevent more damage in the long run.
>>
>>4126050
>I’ll go help the first responders
Collect all the fucking debris, and don't look for the Mav I recall Lusaka equalling seriously bad news in that regard
>>
>>4126050
>I’ll go help the first responders
>>
>>4126050
> I’ll go help the first responders
>>
>>4126050
>I’ll sweep the Mechaniloids
>>
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>>4126050
>I’ll sweep the Mechaniloids
>>
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>>4126099
>>4126428
>>4126428
>>4126561
>>4126705
>>4127200

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CphVmCFIsVI

“I’ll go help the first responders,” you volunteer, figuring your spotlight suite can be of best use there. Blue volunteers to scout for the Maverick and Fringe flies up to engage the Mechaniloid swarm. As it’s already past dusk, you activate your spotlight drones as you fly to the fallen building, seeing medical teams already treating wounded as firefighters head back into the rubble.

“Still a lot more people in the building,” they tell you as you approach. “Could you help the firefighters? Not many real fires in there, you should be fine, and we need as many strong arms as you’ve got.” You look over at the collapsed building, the closest wall still largely intact but for broken windows. Easy enough to locate searchable areas the humans probably haven’t gotten to yet.

Meeting up with some civilian Reploids who are helping clear the rubble and search for people, you coordinate a plan to lift them into the upper “floors” and have them go through to search. As you’re lifting the last, flying over to the other side to get a better angle on the final “floor,” you see a large opening surrounded by high walls, apparently smashed into the building’s inner floors, likely as a result of collision with another building on the way down. Dropping off your last volunteer, you descend into the smashed-in wall yourself.

“Hello? I’m here to help. Is anyone injured?” you call. A groaning sound further in the darkness prompts you to send your spotlights darting forward, revealing broken “walls,” formerly the building’s floors, producing a rough corridor that appears to descend through the superstructure. Well then. This will make the search easier. You send back your data to the medical team, lifting debris off of survivors and helping to gingerly move them up on stretchers. Your spotlights sweeping in and out of the building, you wince every time you hear the support beams above you moan with fatigue. A risky place to be - but you’re doing real work again, and it’s worth the hazard any day.

It looks like you’ve found everyone who’s lucky enough to still be alive, though your descent into the depths of the building reveals all too many poor souls cut down too soon. As you turn to leave, however, a faint noise from the darkness behind you catches your attention. You listen - rock, shifting, scraping along the ground.

“Hello? Are you injured? I’m a Maverick Hunter, it’s going to be okay. Are you there?”
>>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wZFdbg7d9U

> Shoot.
> Run.
>>
>>4127469
>Shoot
Specifically a load bearing wall, and get the hell out, hopefully collapsing the building on him.
>>
>>4127469
>Shoot
a solid projectile means he has to shove it out of the way to hit us. That's enough time for a visual.
>>
>>4127469
>Shoot. Darn. Heck.

Meet junk ball with junk ball and get the hell out of Dodge.
>>
>>4127469
>> Shoot.

excretus excretus excretus moriturus sum
>>
>>4127469
>Shoot
>>
>>4127469
>Run.
Lead him out into the open. A public park could work.
>>
>>4127469
>RUN, BITCH
>>
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>>4127502
>>4127514
>>4127603
>>4127628
>>4127730

The hostile posture tells you all you need, and you don’t waste a moment before spitting a Scrap Seed at the large hunched figure. The solid mass smashes into the Maverick’s face and crumbles, not even a shield flash to show any impact from your attack. You see a large hand raised your way and instinctively dive to the side, luminous buster pellets flying through the air where your head would have been. You right yourself and aim with your own buster, but the wave of pellets hasn’t quite abated and one catches you in the torso. Your shields scream as the impact staggers you.

Another hit like that and you’re done.

Panicking slightly, you throw your drones forward to blind him, the lights flooding around a massive apelike figure with a ball-and-chain attached to his back. He growls, and you look about quickly - your seed attack might be useless against the Maverick, but you could try to strategize with the battlefield. Quickly you roll away from your current position as a huge arm smashes through the stone, spitting another seed shot toward what appears to be a load-bearing beam. The impact dents it and causes dust to fall from the rubble above, but it still holds.

The giant spiked wrecking ball flies out from the hollow section where your spotlights track the Maverick’s movements, giving you the lead you needed to dodge it - narrowly, as it snaps upward, impossibly, whipping straight for your current position. You fold your wings and dive, taking the ground faster than you’d hoped and scraping against the rough concrete, but it’s a better outcome than the alternative.

The wrecking ball pulls back, and you see more energy pellets fly. He’s attempting to shoot down your drones. Hastily formulating a plan, you recall them, positioning one near the support pillar and yourself behind. This is, you curse yourself, a terrible plan. The worst plan. You toggle to the direct feed from the spotlight drone, seeing the horrific apelike Maverick clamber through the gap in the concrete wall that was once a floor. The ball-and-chain swings, flying directly for your position. You toggle back and throw yourself forward, as far away from the dangerous enemy Reploid as you can get. The ball impacts, taking out the support beam in one clean blow.

The rubble shudders, then collapses on top of the enemy.

You call your drones back, exhaling as you take a moment to assess the situation. You comm out to your allies. “Fringe, Blue, come in. I have the Maverick and he’s downed.”

“In the building?” Blue’s voice crackles.

“Affirmative. Buried him under the rubble. No identification.”

“Could use you up here,” Fringe chimes in. “Mav brought some Crushers and they’re beating on other buildings nearby.”

“Evacuation seems to be complete. Will do one more pass and then join you. Over and out.” You turn to leave, hesitating as you ponder if there’s anywhere else to search.
>>
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CI0tY5PRuHs

That hesitation may have saved your life, as the spiked ball whips up through the floor right where you would have been had you continued forward. It slinks back down into the pit it smashed open, and the ground shakes below you as though it’s trying to break through to hit you directly. You take the chance, flying through the opening and hoping the Maverick is still occupied with trying to hammer down your position. Sure enough, the ball smashes upward, colliding with the ceiling, and the apelike Maverick leaps out from the shattered ground. His hands come up and you see plasma being readied to fire again.

> As long as he’s down here, he’s contained. Keep him occupied and call for backup.
> You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside.
> Other?
>>
>>4127870
> You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside.
Know your limits. Not made for fighting guys like this head on, so dont. get out and get a better option.
>>
>>4127870
>You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside
If only we could bring the rest of building down on it
>>
>>4127870
>You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside

We don't want to die today.
>>
>>4127870
>You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside.
>>
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>>4127870
>You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside.
>>
>>4127870
>You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside.
>>
>>4127870
>> You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside.
This is a bad matchup. Is there still anyone up top?
>>
>>4128249
Fringe and Blue, the first responder teams, some survivors.
>>
>>4127870
>You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside.
>>
>>4127870
>You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside.
He's no-selling your main weapon and does not seem to be too bothered about having a building dropped around him, I doubt the buster that is "little better than a sidearm" will do much.
>>
>>4127870
> You can’t survive another hit. Fall back and call for support to be ready outside.
Oh hell no. Be as unpredictable as possible with our escape: he seems to rely heavily on reading what we're going to do or hitting our current position.
>>
>>4127870
>Other

Jump, jive, and get out, and tell your support to back up, too. This one's a tougher customer than the operation anticipated. Get the first responders andd survivors out post-haste.
>>
>>4128271
We can't stop him from crushing the building, so more fighting of any kind will just endanger them.
>>
>>4128178
Don't worry, I promise this is the first, only, and ever time we've slipped references in with a themed set of Reploids.

Truly.
>>
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>>4127877
>>4127899
>>4127921
>>4128061
>>4128178
>>4128228
>>4128249
>>4128280
>>4128500
>>4128724

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VmkSRC-i3AU

You turn and fly, putting on maximum speed, cursing yourself for not upgrading to better jets. You glance back just in time to see the massive spiked ball whipping straight at you, gaining on you, and you cut your jets and boost off to the left, letting it whip past. It lodges in the wall ahead, cutting off your intended flight path.

Your only way out.

You can hear the Maverick coming toward you, apparently retracting the chain and pulling himself in your direction. Unable to spread your wings in this side passage, you resort to climbing awkwardly between the concrete walls, kicking the remains of a bed out of the way so that you can maneuver. You pull yourself up through a doorframe as the sounds of destruction below resume, the ball-and-chain swinging underneath you. There’s a window in this room, though outside it’s covered by a solid plane of debris. Maybe there’s some space to squeeze…

The wrecking ball smashes upward through the doorframe, and any time to hesitate is over. With a mental note to yourself that beggars can’t be choosers, you fling yourself at the window. There might just be enough room to shimmy down, if you -

SMASH.

The Maverick’s brutal weapon crashes through the concrete wall just below you, retracting to reveal a deep pit, the obstructions that concerned you reduced to dust. It’s now or never. You drop, catching part of the wall to slow your descent, seeing a barrage of shots spray overhead in acknowledgement that the Maverick definitely saw you. He’s above you in the shaft now, aiming down, and you fling a spotlight drone into the path of his fire, another one bombing straight at his face.

Below you there’s light, dim and red but present, and the feel of air moving. You let go of the wall and let gravity work its will, colliding roughly with the ground and scrambling over rocks and debris to make it outside. You open a comm channel to hail your allies and get support.

You stop dead as you see the lights.
>>
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Silent and staring, the red pinpricks advance across the rubble, heading toward the survivors. Every now and then, a beam shoots out from the glaring red eye, firing off into the distance, to the sound of an explosion or scream. You can see the local police forces and African Union army fighting the squad of Cycl0P5. Checking behind you, you find only silence - your hyper-aggressive Maverick must have gone off in search of easier prey. That gives you an opening, at least.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sodfIVM2ZpU

You’d give yourself good odds against a single Cycl0PS in a fair fight, but you’re banged up already from that ape’s shot and there’s no way you can isolate one of these to fight alone. Of course, that assumes you plan to fight fair. They don’t know you’re here, and there’s a lot of debris to be had nearby - you charge up a massive Scrap Seed and shoot it at the nearest enemy Maverick, mentally cheering as it explodes instantly. You can still do that much, at least. Now to get back to your friends.

“Fringe, Blue, do you copy?” you comm quietly. “Maverick engaged, still at large. I’m counting at least nine Cycl0P5, mixed series, advancing on the survivors.”

“This is Blue. Local support’s made contact, we’re working together. Is your Mav still in the building?”

“In there somewhere,” you confirm, “but he could break out at any moment. That guy is strong, whoever he is. Couldn’t even dent him.”

“Fringe here. I’ll take a pass. Navigator says you have an open lane to connect with the emergency team, head two o’clock.”

“Copy.” You move as recommended, veering right and watching for any of the Cycl0P5 to notice you. For a moment, you think you might just get away with it, but then a glowing red optic crests a ridge of concrete and a beam lances out in your direction. No time to stay low - you kick off a nearby wall for some altitude and jet toward the first responders’ position.

An elderly Zambian woman raises a buster rifle threateningly as you approach, face twisted into a deep scowl. You put up your hands. “Maverick Hunter, ma’am. 3rd Deploy Corps. Just here to help.” You toggle two of your remaining drones. “Got marker lights here to help us signal air support. Does anyone need to be moved to a more secure location? Mavericks are heading to this position.”

“Perfect,” she scoffs, “we need guns and they send a damn flashlight.” You feel somewhat insulted. “Got friends with you, at least?” You nod, and she jerks her head to indicate the people behind her. “Ten survivors with this group still. Radio your people, tell them to get people well clear.” She aims past you and fires at something you can’t see.
>>
“Clear of what?” As if on cue, you hear a loud smashing noise, and turn to see the side of the collapsed building split by a new rift that wasn’t there previously, the apelike Maverick leaping through and landing on the pavement. The wrecking ball swings around, colliding with a pair of nearby buildings and taking a solid chunk out of each.

“Maverick spotted! Moving to engage!” sounds in your ear as a small figure with a grenade appears off to the right, running at full sprint from a covered position under one of the damaged buildings. You realize it’s Blue, and comm over quickly.

“Blue! Retreat!”

But it’s too late - Blue flings a grenade at the ape Maverick, which blooms into an electric azure lightshow that fills you with momentary nausea, a strange new sensation you can immediately name and which you instantly hate. You see nearby Cycl0P5 caught in the light collapse. You see the Maverick’s wrecking ball, still buried in a wall above, shake ominously.

You see the Maverick’s arm colliding with Blue, the flash of his magnetic buffer receding into the darkness as the human Hunter goes flying away.

“I told them,” the old woman mutters. “I told them it would happen.” She raises an old-fashioned handheld transceiver to her face. “Euler, do it.”

An avian Reploid - not Fringe, but one considerably larger - dives out of the night sky. You didn’t even see where this one came from, but suddenly a barrage of ordnance plummets toward the Maverick, explosions rocking your position. You realize the battle has just scaled up beyond the realm of safety, and turn to gather an injured human in your arms as you fly backwards to a safer position. Trucks nearby are doubling as medical evacuation vehicles, the injured being placed gingerly in the flatbeds and supported with rolled-up clothing and fabric in place of pillows. You fly back to get another human.

In the distance, silhouetted by explosions and flame, you see the large Maverick has caught the bird Reploid who bombed him, and is brutally punching the latter as the wrecking ball skips across the surface of a building, tearing the structure apart and causing it to topple. The old woman is supporting a survivor as they walk backward away from the carnage.

“I told them,” she mutters.

You see Fringe fly past, throwing lightning down at the Maverick, who flings the other bird so that there’s a midair collision, both avian Reploids toppling out of the sky. A third skyscraper is beginning to give way, a howl of metal forced to bear weight above its capacity signaling the impending disaster. You collect another human and fly back, moving in parallel with the trucks.
>>
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUJwcnkAVKQ

Off to the right, something collides with another office tower, glass spraying down. How did anything that large break through already? You wish that question did not have the answer it did, as you look up and see the hateful, ugly gaze of the apelike Maverick. The wrecking ball swings around, smashing down glass and brick and concrete, tearing through a twenty-storey structure as easily as a child pushes down a sand castle. The shuddering mass deposits itself across a main road, barely missing the trucks as they turn another way. Shots are fanning out across the destroyed streets, and you try to block out the sounds of those you can’t reach in time.

What can you do… what can anyone do against such unbridled force?

> Stay and assist with the evac teams.
> Go back and try to find your allies.
> You’re the only fighting Reploid left, and it’s open air - try to stall him.
> Other
>>
>>4129691
> You’re the only fighting Reploid left, and it’s open air - try to stall him.

Maybe the best out of some not great options, unless anyone can think of a fourth path.
>>
>>4129706
Adding, because it's already proven that we can't put too much of a physical hurting on him...

Maybe try goading him verbally?
>>
>>4129691
>You’re the only fighting Reploid left, and it’s open air - try to stall him.
Don't try to face him directly. Charge up big chunks of junk, and use them to redirect the wrecking ball. I think that's just about all we can do, while praying someone else can deal with the buster shots.
>>
>>4129691
>> You’re the only fighting Reploid left, and it’s open air - try to stall him.

We might not survive, but we can probably save more lives this way...
>>
>>4129691
>You’re the only fighting Reploid left, and it’s open air - try to stall him.
Don't get close to other skyscrapers: falling debris would be a problem.
>>
>>4129691
>Stay and assist with the evac teams.
...Did that old lady say "Euler"? We'll be just fine focusing elsewhere.
>>
>>4129691
>You’re the only fighting Reploid left, and it’s open air - try to stall him.
>>
>>4129691
> You’re the only fighting Reploid left, and it’s open air - try to stall him.
Now to answer the burning question, How many sour lemons does it take to kill an ape?
>>
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>>4129691
>You’re the only fighting Reploid left, and it’s open air - try to stall him.
Heroic sacrifice time? That's what birds are for, right? At least, the non-maverick ones.
>>
>>4129894
Oh shit wait, you're right, if this is Krieg Euler (which it seems to be given that it's a bird reploid) then we've got a Los Mortales on our side. Changing my vote to
>Stay and assist with the evac teams.
>>
>>4130664
Yes, we're talking to valvidieso after all.
>>
>>4130664
Oh damn, good point. Changing >>4129881 to >Stay and assist with the evac teams. Also: avoid the battle at all costs: collateral damage is gonna be real. Still watch for falling buildings around us, unless that isn't a concern (i.e. all the buildings around us have already been leveled).
>>
>>4130706
If it is Valvidieso, then I will back
> Stay and assist with the evac teams.
Get her to safety. Losing her would be bad.
>>
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CL's caught at a work something-or-other, so I'm posting on his behalf to announce votes closed from here.

Also speaking of work thingamajigs, I may have some exciting news in a few hours.
>>
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>>4131113
>Also speaking of work thingamajigs, I may have some exciting news in a few hours.
>>
>>4129691
>Stay and assist with the evac teams.
This city is now a crater and we need to go before we're a part of it.
>>
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>>4129706
>>4129737
>>4129865
>>4130009
>>4130338

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YvDt1nVhhk0

You’re second-guessing the decision even as you commit, flying toward the massive ape-boar Maverick, leaving the survivors to keep driving away from the incoming Cycl0P5 mob and their Mechaniloid supports. As you ascend, you gain a better view of the carnage that the enemy has wrought - Mechailoids aimlessly clambering across piles of rubble, red-eyed Reploids shuffling forward, beams cutting through the night and the dust, buster fire being returned by local police forces, wind whistling through shattered windows of towers still standing.

You look at the scenes of collapse, at the dead below, at the fires rising beyond. You remember Blue, taken out in an instant despite his OLEL weapon, and Shocklight, taken down with that owl Reploid as they both tried to stop the unstoppable juggernaut and his wrecking ball. You realize this is it - this is the hour. You have no choice - not if Lusaka is to have any chance in hell of surviving. You comm out to HQ.

“Navigator support, Morse here. Parrot, do you have eyes on Fringe? We lost contact -”

You interrupt him to deliver your message: “Starlight.”

The voice on the other end shifts, becoming tense and formal. “Copy code Starlight captured, repeat Starlight. Confirm code, over.”

“Confirmed. Starlight.” Your target is nearly in range.

“Copy code Starlight to 15 mark 25 south, 28 mark 17 east, confirmed. Safe at position?”

“Negative.”

“Survivors at position?”

“Negative.”

“Copy. Starlight Protocol engaged. Good luck.”
>>
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmlq0u345PE

You see the Maverick pulling the wrecking ball back, looking like he’s preparing another lunge. There’s no good way to put yourself in harm’s way, so you decide you might as well go for the one that just feels best.

“Hey ugly!” Excellent choice of last words, Parrot. Memorable. Death looks up at you, raising a hand to spray energy shots, and you cut altitude to plummet under the fan, flapping back upwards with a Scrap Seed already gathering material. You spit it at him, and he knocks it aside with his arm.

“You’ve got a nasty temper, anyone ever tell you that?” More shots, forcing you to the side. “You know those move in a pattern, right?” The fan comes back around in the other direction. “It’s pretty obvious to anyone who isn’t a completely brainless ape.” The wrecking ball comes up from behind him, arcing overhead to smash down on you like a scorpion’s tail, with such speed you barely manage to dodge.

“Oh that’s right,” you chirp from behind him. “I forgot. I’m sorry, that was rude. I shouldn’t assume you’re an ape.”

“Fly or die, bird,” the Maverick grunts as the spiked ball whips back toward you, faster than it should. You flap back, pelting him with a couple of buster shots that tink off harmlessly. If only you could charge your fire.

“Easy choice,” you taunt him, coming back down to the other side. “You might want to put a bit more thought into your aim.” He pulls back the wrecking ball and raises his arms, forcing you low to avoid the fanning shots.

...except he didn’t shoot. You barely dodge as he lunges up into the air, boosters carrying him much higher than he has any right to be. You don’t make it - his hand catches your wing, and with a horrible wrenching sound it pulls free, your systems screaming in disbelief as you start spinning, spinning, falling, plummeting out of the air, colliding with the roof of a collapsed building and sliding down.

“Shame you’re not painted black,” comes the baritone rumble from below, the Maverick grinning like a cat as you slowly slide down, unable to escape him. “I coulda called this a murder of crows.”

“Sorry… to… disappoint,” you grunt as you formulate a plan - a bad plan, the worst plan, the only plan you really have left: launching your last two spotlight drones right into his face.
>>
The Maverick howls in frustration as the lights flood his optics, and you kick off the wall to land facefirst in a pile of concrete, vancrete, and twisted rebar. The wrecking ball is just a hair too slow and off-center to catch you, and you recognize instantly that if it can shatter vancrete like this, very few Reploids could ever hope to stand up to it. None of them are you.

The drones are still tying him up, ever so briefly, but a lone Spiky rolls toward your position. Your buster comes up to fry it, disabling its roll and causing it to fall to rest next to you. Ohhh no. You brace for what’s coming as it detonates, the force not enough to seriously damage you, but knocking you back and providing a sound for the smashing ball to gravitate towards. Your shields are flickering badly with the torn wing destabilizing the energy distribution, and you crawl behind the thickest vancrete barrier you can find, a second before the ball collides with the other side. The wall cracks, bleeding dust and pebbles, but endures the hit.

Silence. Terrible silence, cut only by the distant sounds of sirens and propeller blades. A heavy footfall. Another.

Then the building rips open, the wall torn like a leaf by the massive arms of the juggernaut Maverick.

“You’re next,” he snarls hungrily. You roll to the side and kick off the floor, trying to gain any amount of speed, firing your damaged boosters even though you can’t fly. It carries you beyond the building, at least, out into the cracked street. You see him less than 50 feet away, approaching slowly, savoring your fear and pain.

Missiles spring forth from the darkness, but they’re not aiming at you - they collide with the Maverick, knocking him back slightly. You look back to see a pair of Gun Volts closing their weapons chambers, readying ammunition. On top of a small pile of rubble, a tiny misshapen figure in a black coat stands with fingers splayed in the Maverick’s direction. A small ugly head turns to look at you and croaks in a voice dragged up from Hades across a field of broken glass and children’s tears.

“Lost your pirate, did you?”
>>
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_mhWxOjxp4

You try to process this strange greeting as more figures emerge from the darkness - Thunder Bull, who you know from 3rd Deploy; a massive froglike Reploid, and next to him a metallic squirrel or chipmunk; an elegant masked insectoid with large glassy wings; and a rhinoceros you recognize from HQ5 as Avalanche Rhino. They spread out, forming a concave to confront the Maverick.

“More victims,” he rumbles, “but none of you can kill me.”

“We’re not here to kill you,” the larger frog tells him softly. “We’re here to stop you.” He nods his head at a building behind the apelike Maverick. “HE’S here to to kill you.”

A compression beam plummets out of the sky, landing at the indicated point, and even in the flickering light of the flames you can make out the silhouette of the Red Reploid.

“It’s not here. Tell your master you failed,” Zero shouts to him. “Tell him I’m coming.”

“NEVER,” the enemy howls, wrecking ball springing forth. The larger frog steps forward, swinging a hammer to knock the spiked ball aside as it approaches, leaving an opening for Rhino to charge. Massive blowers on his shoulders open, spraying a blast of heavy snow that chills the air and coats the ground in all directions. The flying insect springs up into the air as the rampaging Maverick swings his hands around to fire, and suddenly you notice that you can’t make out any of the Hunter combatants against the terrain - where did they all go? The ball swings around again, and this time it stops dead, held by a struggling chipmunk Reploid who seems to be in a tug-of-war with the ape Maverick.

Zero charges and fires, the massive buster blast flooding the street with light as the Maverick’s shields flare. He whirls, charging at the chipmunk, but Zero has already dashed into his path, delivering an earthshaking uppercut that knocks the Maverick skyward, colliding with the debris he created as the chain of his wrecking ball stretches to its limit. More figures are arriving, air support bringing light to the darkness along with additional Reploids who are firing on the Cycl0P5 and Mechaniloids, forcing them to scatter. You drag yourself upright, Thunder Bull coming to hoist you bodily into the air.

Zero dashes back next to the tiny frog, who calls out with that thousand-year-smoker voice to the Maverick. “Just to check, truffles, was this what you were looking for?” He raises a small control device. The Maverick roars again and lunges.

Heaven spills down, a lance of judgment in the form of the sun’s own light, burning into the remains of the street. Your spotlights are nothing in the face of this power - a superweapon, it must be, a concentrated laser beam. You see Zero turn to give you a slight nod.
>>
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The world goes dark, and the Maverick is gone. The flying insect flutters down.

“He escaped,” she recounts bitterly. “Barely.”

“He’s off the board, and they don’t have Congo,” Zero is quiet but clear. “It’s not perfect, but it’s a win.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q86nf7mpOXk

The Hunters disperse quickly, Zero himself beaming away within minutes, others helping to clean up the remaining Mavericks over the next hour or so as African Union forces converge to assist. A pair of humanoids you haven’t met come over to you.

“Maua,” one introduces herself. “AU Security. Sorry we took so long, they had us tied up in an energen mine. That must have been some fight.” The other one looks about to speak, but you see Fringe and Blue being carried over on stretchers by local forces and excuse yourself to see them.

A tarp stretches over Blue’s.

“If it isn’t the hometown hero,” Fringe greets you mirthlessly. “Hell of a job.” You both watch Blue’s stretcher as it goes past. 10-Plates approach and start evaluating your damage, talking about something. Their voices don’t register. Fringe doesn’t even look like he knows he’s talking. You look out over the battlefield to see the old woman from earlier, standing among ambulances and too many tarp-covered bodies. She locks eyes with you for a moment before turning to walk away, vanishing into the smoke and the night.

Hell of a job.
>>
The thick of the Maverick War was a brutal and horrific place to be, but we've got no shortage of dark and troubled times to see yet. Where should we go now?

> An immovable force facing an unstoppable object
> A student of destruction forced to face the master
> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
> A second chance making his first impression
> A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
>>
>>4131677
>A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
is it time for the dogs?
>>
>>4131677
>> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
>>
>>4131677
> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
>>
>>4131677
> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
>>
>>4131677
>A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
>>
>>4131677
>A student of destruction forced to face the master
>>
>>4131677
> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer

O brother, where art thou?
>>
>>4131677
>A student of destruction forced to face the master
>>
>>4131677
>A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
Yeah, I'm thinking it's time
>>
>>4131677
>A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
I need to know how they got him.
>>
>>4131677
>A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear

Thematic shift maybe!
>>
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>>4131703
>>4131740
>>4131786
>>4131807
>>4131920
>>4131973
>>4132038

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hL-X53ze5O0

You are Schwarzhund, and you’re standing on the side of a dusty road with a snake, waiting for someone to drive by.
>>
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“Any sign of him?” your partner asks lazily. You don’t give Striker Cobra the satisfaction of looking over, instead flicking your smoke at him.

“How many millions of dollars of sensor equipment so you can ask me any sign of him?” you deadpan. “Snake eyes worthless, is that it?”

“Pounds, junior. Millions of pounds to tell me we’ve got about three seconds.” He moves to stand next to you. “And he’s got company.”

Cobra’s good, you’ll give him that - a second later, a formation of Ride Chasers appears on the horizon, flickering energy beams connecting them to form a deadly sweep that cuts across the terrain. You’re after the leader, Elpenor, one of Alexander’s top operatives in the campaign of terror that tore up Eastern Europe.

Currently working for your traitor brother.

The wind whips up the dust as you and Cobra look down on the road from your rocky elevation. Simple jump, easy to time. Cobra will take out the Link Riders while you get social with the lead biker. You turn to the snake Reploid and give a curt nod before stepping out into the void and letting gravity find you a target.

You land neatly on the back of the Ride Chaser, causing it to pitch up briefly. Elpenor barely has time to wrangle it to stability before your claw goes around his throat. You hear the whistle of missiles behind you, followed by explosions.

“Keep driving,” you tell your hostage, who wordlessly obeys. Smart guy. “Weisshund. You know where he is.” Not a question, but you see the nod. “Good. Let’s talk business.” You grab him and throw him off the Ride Chaser, seizing the handles and turning it around. Most of the Link Riders are down, but a couple of them remain and are charging you. You tap the trigger, turning the incoming Reploids into clouds of smoke and debris as you cut a line through where they used to be. You pull up in front of Elpenor as Cobra slides down the rock wall.

“Getting sloppy, friend,” you jibe. Cobra tilts his head in mock confusion.

“Don’t you know anything, junior? 1st starts the job. You’re cleanup.”
>>
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Your transport comes back around to meet you within minutes, bringing the three of you to a friendly operations station as dusk approaches. The interrogation is quick - Elpenor’s just a young anarchist with a taste for starting fires, not a true believer. He spills what he knows about your brother’s plans and whereabouts in short order, and the two of you leave him in a holding cell.

“SssSss… surprised Weiss thinks he can regroup them after he lost at the Bombards,” Cobra muses. “Even with Alexander’s goon squads tearing around the Mediterranean.”

“What would you do?” you ask softly. You can sense Cobra’s head jerking your way.

“Wouldn’t join traitors in the first place,” he snaps, sighing as he hears it. You know your shoulders tensed, you heard the low growl out of your own throat. You couldn’t help it. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s been a long,” he pauses, “year. We’ve got allied assets en route from the AU, he won’t get away. Call it a night?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

No, you think. You’re close now, too close to rest, too close to even think. You need answers - you need something, dammit.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZAwQa140_c

You’re not done with Elpenor yet. Time for another business discussion.

Stealing back into the cells is trivial. Your quarry hasn’t so much as raised his head. He doesn’t know you’re here--yet.

> Be quick about it. The guards will come fast once they hear him.
> He can’t scream without a voicebox.
>>
>>4133589
>Be quick about it. The guards will come fast once they hear him.
>>
>>4133589
>Be quick about it. The guards will come fast once they hear him.
I don't think schwarz has any screwdriver for that voicebox
>>
>>4133589
>He can’t scream without a voicebox

Black Ops!
>>
>>4133589
> Be quick about it. The guards will come fast once they hear him.
El Peenor might not have much else to spill, and he doesn't seem bright enough to successfully bullshit on the spot.
>>
>>4133589
>Be quick about it. The guards will come fast once they hear him.
>>
>>4133589
>Be quick about it. The guards will come fast once they hear him.
Also hell yeah, 1st represent
>>
>>4133589
>> Be quick about it. The guards will come fast once they hear him.
Welp entire situation is a shit show. Puts things into perspective when Strike 'THE SHELL WAS BLUE!' Cobra is snapping. Certainly didn't expect the entire thing to be a year though. Figured it was the same length as the doppler war, where down time has been short and the progression is quick(estimated Doppler taking half a year or less to put down with how things are going.). Did Sigma prepare that well, or was everyone running around like a headless chicken when he revolted?
>>
>>4133589

> Be quick about it. The guards will come fast once they hear him
>>
So no update again tonight, I think, unless I and CL are both awake late and up to it.

That said, however, I'll be kicking around (as I have been! For a verbose writer I have surprisingly little to say), if anyone has any questions or wants to talk shop.

And speaking of which, that announcement I mentioned has finally come up. I am very excited to announce that I am moving out of my current job and transferring to something entirely different within the company, and it was confirmed today. Not only am I NOT taking the considerable pay cut I was expecting, they didn't just match my current salary--they threw in a raise.

I'm in a pretty god damned good mood tonight, even with everything going on worldwide. In terms of what this means for MHQ, I honestly have no idea--I'm hoping that at the very least it will mean less stress (and thus more energy to write).
>>
>>4135052
How was Euler feeling about that op?
>>
>>4133742
The thing with Sigma was most of the people on the planet who were qualified to fight him were recruited to his side.

>>4135052
Well fuck congratulations!
>>
>>4135112
Beforehand? Great.

Afterward? Do Not Fucking Talk to Me About the Mission That Never Happened. She's probably honestly at least a little salty about being assigned to HQ5.
>>
>>4135235
I remember when Rezador called her an idiot for getting injured attacking some Philosopher base or another. Is this a recurring thing?
>>
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>>4135235
Isn't she in charge of HQ5?

>>4135243
Sounds like someone's Rezundere
>>
>>4135243
"Rezador is very exacting and, along with Shade Tanuki, is one of two members with relatively low-collateral weapons. Coincidentally, Tanuki and Rezador are the closest thing amongst the group to confidantes of their creator."

>>4135246
Yep!
>>
>>4135258
wait
Euler took a break from commanding HQ5, which is in Africa, to go get pissed at Ukumari in Siberia
>>
>>4135272
Yup! Continuing to discuss her on the date would have gone into that a bit, but the short version is that she was doing a pass over the artillery stations at Novaya Zemlya.
>>
>>4135052
Sounds like congratulations and alcohol are in order
>>
>>4135052
Noice, hopefully the new position will be less chaotic for you.
>>
>>4135052
Congrats! You've deserved a less stressful life for some time now. I hope everything about it goes well.
>>
>>4133595
>>4133601
>>4133632
>>4133636
>>4133686
>>4133742
>>4134040

Good that he’s not too observant. Taken off-guard, speed is force, and you need to do this fast.

So you do. He hasn’t even clocked your movement from the corner of his eye before you’ve stalked out of the shadows and beneath the harsh UV of the overheads, seized him by the throat, and slammed him against the wall. Your thumbpad buzzes, and his shriek of surprise falls to a dull yelp. Lowering him to eye-level, you shake your head very slowly, and tuck your hand under his chin. Making sure his eyes follow, you slowly turn it palm down to let the emitter furnishings gleam.

“What are you--” He squeaks. “I gave you everything I know!”

You stare him down, unblinking, unmoving, your face slashed in two between shadow and glare.

Two. Three.

He starts to speak when your claws shear through his shoulder and into the wall. Muscle cords straining and snapping, you tear his arm from the socket like you’re pulling apart a lobster.

Good. Now he knows the stakes.

“Where is he?”

Elpenor tries to talk. You dig your knuckles up beneath his face, and you watch his eyes jump as he does the math of where the blades terminate if you turn them on.

He answers. You go. The base sirens don’t begin to wail until you’re three klicks out, mounting his captured Cheval. Gunning the engine, you vanish into the night.
>>
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lX44CAz-JhU

Algeria’s never truly recovered from the North African attacks during the Algol Conflicts, and the shattered concrete highways you dart across on the way to your goal stand as stark testament to the unhealed scars of that time, scars your brother seems bent on reopening. Elpenor hid the truth within a close version of it - would have put you in a military base off to the west, chasing Ride Armors. You know Weiss better than that.

He’s making a play for control of the continent itself.

You drive through the night, passing the salt flats near Djelfa, the chotts creating a strange silence that the hum of the Cheval seems to only amplify. You can see the Rocher de Sel in the distance, a misshapen lump of clay and salt, a monument to lifelessness.

You can see the hidden hangar base.

Concealed in the bluffs, with stealth-equipped choppers picking up and dropping off, it’s the perfect covert location for servicing the African Union’s secret Saharan operation, Ahaggar. You have to admit to yourself you’re not completely sure what they hid there - a superlaser like Enigma, a mass driver to send hidden shuttles spaceward, maybe a Mechaniloid factory. All you know is that it does exist, and now you know how Weiss plans to reactivate it.

You rev the Cheval to maximum speed, jumping it off a broken ramp and colliding with the salt lake below, the naked arc propulsion jet scattering energy through the crystals and causing a protesting crackle from the ground below. Your momentum takes you clean through a patrolling Deerball and careening full speed toward a Mega Tortoise, the head swiveling toward you. In a snap decision, you leap from your seat, letting the Ride Chaser end itself in a devastating explosion that takes out the artillery Mechaniloid. You’re already on the wall, above a Crag Man who has dropped down to check on the destroyed turtle.

His mistake.
>>
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You plunge down behind him, claws severing his head from his body, and plant a charge where his neck used to be, kicking the flailing torso into a perimeter-scanning laser. Sine Fallers whip out of the sky, converging on the rocky Maverick right before the explosion goes off, consuming them all. You’re already moving, staying in the darkness, crawling beneath a catwalk as you see a patrol of Cycl0P5 run toward the mess you’ve made. You listen, hearing steps above, and reach up so that you can pull yourself over top, coming face to face with a Hoganmer. The ball and chain raises up, your Blackfires burn into his face, and you kick him down to the ground, resuming your stealthy approach toward the difficult section.

Panning laser beams protect the door to the main command building, but they’re not your main concern - an emplacement of spikes lays along the ground, with a matching set covering the ceiling. Weiss wouldn’t have had time to install those power-hungry atrocities - guess the AU really didn’t want anyone in here. Growling softly, you switch to the exterior approach, with a communications tower helping you triangle-jump your way up the walls of the main command tower, where you latch on to the balcony that overlooks the salt deserts below. Waiting for a nearby Mechaniloid to pass, you grab the railing and leap, landing silently on top of the tower. You can catch him off guard, find the window above him, pounce down, seize him, make him tell you -

Of course.

Of course he’s out here already.

Waiting for you.
>>
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Weisshund turns, the wind whipping his cape behind him. He looks at you. You stare back.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rspOqdUHSHk

> I’m here to end it.
> God damn it, why?
> Other?
>>
>>4137288
>> God damn it, why?
>>
>>4137288
>You look like shit.
>>
>>4137288
>God damn it, why?
>>
>>4137288
> I’m here to prove it wasn't worth it.
>>
>>4137288
>> God damn it, why?

Oh boy cape Doggo
>>
>>4137288
>God damn it, why?
>>
>>4137288
>>4137309
>I’m here to end it.
"So here I am."
>>
>>4137288
>The time has come, and so have I
>>
>>4137288
>What did you want out of all this?
>>
>>4137288
First
>>4137585
Then
>>4137343
after his response
>>
>>4135052
I just realized Lamplight literally fought Violen. He's a lot more intimidating when his spikeball doesn't bounce everywhere except where I'm standing.
>>
>>4137288
>> God damn it, why?

Brother, why?
>>
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>>4137292
>>4137329
>>4137372
>>4137373
>>4137979

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQGAhOzkNSk

Polished. Gleaming. Poised. Calm. Everything about his physical presence reminds you of the brother you loved. His blue eyes look down at you, betraying no concern, no anger, no… anything. Something should be there. Hatred, madness, fear, guilt, regret… why can’t you see any of it when you look at him? You need to know.

“...Why?”

He tilts his head, saying nothing.

“I asked you a question, damn it. I left the line open. I waited.”

A blink. A slight shake of the head. “I told you not to.”

“You owe me more than that. What could possibly have been worth this? How many friends have already died for this? How many went down to your guns?”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Guilt? Is that what dragged you out to Algeria? So you could hear me say ‘too many’?” He looks out over the balcony, at a copter preparing for launch, traitors running around below, Mechaniloids weaponized against their creators, then back to you. “Not enough.”

You growl, raising an arm. He waves it off. “Wheels don’t turn on their own, Schwarz. Someone makes them keep going, around and around.” He swings his arm wide to point at the activity around the base. “It’s supposed to be a symbol of progress, but it’s just a cycle. Grinding down. Every day it crushes someone, and they build a new Reploid to take their place.”

“I’m not here for Sigma’s pitch. I’m here for yours. Tell me why!” you snarl.

He stares at you again, and for a moment you see something else in his eyes. Something haunted, something chased and hidden and resentful. His voice hardens. “Why? I told you. I told you before it all started, but you couldn’t hear. I told you the last time we talked, and all you thought about was how to convince me to come back. To walk along the straight and narrow until the wheel comes for you.”

Bullshit. Bullshit! “There’s no ‘wheel.’ There’s no--no unstoppable force crushing anyone. Just madmen killing their way to a solution,” you spit, “and the fools who follow them.”
>>
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“That’s what I said. I said it when they cheated the zero-gens out of their upgrades. No money for the old crowd, all being spent on the new. I said it when they tried to force the Mascots out of their own bodies, cover up their own mistakes using lawyers and cash. I saw it when they asked me to lead the best of the best, then sent me their worst.” You try to interrupt, but he’s talking faster now, more heated. “Imagine being so afraid of your own weaknesses, but spending all of your time on new ways to indulge them. Noble words, failed ambitions, corrupt ends, and somehow the humans are never at fault. World law. It’s always us, because we’re replaceable. Except they went out of their way to make us more than that.” He walks over to the rail, gripping it with both hands, and you hear it bending as he looks down. “Every path to a bright future, turned back on itself like…” his laugh is hollow. “Like a dog chasing its own tail.”

That laugh… you remember sharing it countless times, when it was fuller, warmer, more genuine. Something inside this traitor in shining armor is still the brother you knew. You lower your arm slightly, but as he turns you see the cold has returned to his eyes.

“‘The people will be fuel for the fire, and no one will spare even his own brother.’ It’s the world they made, the wheel we turn for them.”

You can’t help yourself. “It’s ‘no one will spare his neighbor.”” A brief flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Read a book sometime. A real one, not that digital version.” The smile fades. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

You tense, arms raised. “You made this happen. To both of us.”

“I had a choice, and I made it. And I’d do it again..” He lifts his buster.

> Disorient him with thrown claws, explosives, and mobility
> Overwhelm with speed and pure firepower
> Other?
>>
>>4138388
> Disorient him with thrown claws, explosives, and mobility
He's a white knight, you're Bat Dog.
>>
>>4138388
Damn it Weisshund...

>Disorient him with thrown claws, explosives, and mobility
It's our thing.
>>
>>4138388
>> Disorient him with thrown claws, explosives, and mobility

And it means we might have a better chance of not killing him outright.
>>
>>4138388
>Disorient him with thrown claws,explosives, and mobility.
>>
>>4138388
>Disorient him with thrown claws, explosives, and mobility

>>4138504
I'm not sure what makes that a worthwhile endeavor. He's made his position pretty clear.
>>
>>4138573

Knock him out, tie him up, bring him back, maybe we can make him see sense.

Y'know. In a decade or two.
>>
>>4138388
>Disorient him with thrown claws, explosives, and mobility.
>>
>>4138388
>Disorient him with thrown claws, explosives, and mobility
>>
>>4138388
>Disorient him with thrown claws, explosives, and mobility
>>4137432
"You're a dick. And an ass."
>>
>>4138388
>Disorient him with thrown claws, explosives, and mobility
>>
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>>4138397
>>4138444
>>4138504
>>4138512
>>4138573
>>4138573
>>4138707
>>4139130
>>4139205
>>4139216

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r69uVI2vmnQ

The air fills with crackling light as your electric claws fling toward Weisshund, who draws his own claws through the air to deflect them, his Metal Scar leaving arcs of metal discarded around him as he lunges for you. You leap and spin, Pounce Buster spraying out to deter him, and plunge off the balcony. Your foot hooks the bottom of the rail, allowing you to flip underneath and catch the wall.

Have to move fast now, he won’t give you much time; you hold the support beam with one hand as you set an explosive underneath the balcony, leaping to the next beam just in time as a metal spike stabs downward through the platform above. You set three more and slide down the tower, throwing yourself away from the wall and spreading Pounce Buster shots to clear a landing zone as your bombs go off. A sensor hums at the back of your head and you roll forward, two scorch marks behind you showing where Weiss’s shots barely missed you.

His fist doesn’t - he’s already here on the catwalk, and his punch takes you over the side. You reach out to grapple a nearby light post and wrap around, aiming a kick at him which turns into a drop and lunge as he slashes toward your leg. You take him off-balance, hooking his leg with yours as you bring your Blackfires to bear, but his arms are already up between you and he shoves your wrists apart. You hear the familiar whine of busters charging and see him aim both hands at your chest.

You throw yourself away from him just in time as a white flash fills the space where your torso was. Still has that damn attack. You need to be more careful. You spot an unmanned Ride Loader and double back to seize it, only to have to duck as more of Weiss’s homing buster shots careen your way. He’s coming at you fast, but you have a lead on him, setting an explosive at your position and aiming your Wild Pouncer up at the catwalk, forcing him to bring up his barrier to defend against the energetic impact. You fire a few more, seeing Weiss knocked back incrementally each time - that ought to hold him while you board.

You drop into the cockpit, toggling the controls, and -
>>
The explosion is still ringing in your ears as you see Weiss drop down to your level of the facility, approaching like the Grim Reaper while blue flames burn behind him. You see a bit of smoke trail out of his shoulder as the panel closes.

“You can’t win, little brother. I know all your tricks. How many did I teach you?”

Damn him for being right, but you won’t let that stop you. You deploy a second set of electric claws, filling the air with the boomeranging devices. Weiss deflects them with his metal attack once more, but you’re not worried about this set - you’ve fired the recall on the first round of claws, the ones that would have scattered in the balcony explosion. If any are intact, they might be your best bet at catching him unawares.

White buster shots cut through the night, returned with black shots as you dart around the hangar bay. The chopper’s engine is drowning out speech, not that you have anything to say anymore. Not really the time for words anyway. You roll away from your hiding place as a deadly flash splits the stack of crates neatly in two, your brother already moving to where he expected you to be.

Damn him for being right. A kick knocks you to the floor, and you reach up to twist away his buster - the homing won’t work at a range like this - and bring your other hand up with new claws. He leans away from your attack, scratches bubbling the surface of his chest armor, and his other hand comes around to punch you in the head. That familiar, awful whine fills the air again, and this time your shields catch the edge of the flash, Weiss’s devastating Claymore Shock.

You’re built to take hits like that, but not many - and a full-on hit could be crippling. You’re dashing backwards around the hangar bay, Pounce Buster striking from all around you at a selection of points where you predict he might move. Weiss keeps giving chase, trying to get into your melee range. The recalled claw flies by, slashing at Weiss’s back and drawing a surge from his shield. Your joy is short-lived, however, as his metal claw catches you in the leg. You bring up your knee and put a Blackfire shot toward his abdomen in order to force him clear.

He’s playing on your uncertainty, getting the better of you because you’re not giving it your all. You need to step up your game if you’re going to beat him.

> He knows all the tricks you had - a year ago. Show him what you learned when he left.
> He’s got an answer to everything except your speed and agility - focus there.
>>
>>4139273
>He knows all the tricks you had - a year ago. Show him what you learned when he left.
>>
>>4139273
>He knows all the tricks you had - a year ago. Show him what you learned when he left.
>>
>>4139273
>He’s got an answer to everything except your speed and agility - focus there.
he's not playing seriously either. Don't play the new tricks yet
>>
Big Lincoln here is gonna send our ass to hell no matter what we try to pull, isn't he?
>>
>>4139676
Schwarz doesn't kill Weiss. What's more important is what he can take away from this encounter, whether personal or big picture.

....wait. Is this the thing that prevented him from ever climbing the ranks? Going turbo torture and rogue to hunt down personal targets?
>>
>>4139273
>He knows all the tricks you had - a year ago. Show him what you learned when he left.
>>
>>4139273
>> He knows all the tricks you had - a year ago. Show him what you learned when he left.
>>
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>>4139275
>>4139299
>>4139769
>>4139842

Your agility is something Weiss is used to, and it’s not like you’ve gotten faster over the past year.

You have, however, prepared for him.

Reaching down, you grab a small disk from a leg compartment, toggle it with your thumb, and fling it off to your right. As Weiss’s buster aims your way, you flick out another set of claws, and note with satisfaction the surprise in his eyes as the homing shots veer wildly off course, pulled by the Seiren attractor you set to lure them. Your other hand is at your back as you leap into the air, Pounce Buster raining down to force him to dodge, Wild Pouncer following up to keep him from getting too far. You land in melee, slashing at him with a Minuet. The confused look turns into a frown as the ultrasonic cutting pulse registers, igniting his shields.

You draw it back, but he grabs your arm, and your follow-up kick is intercepted by his other hand as he slams you into the ground, stabbing you with a Metal Scar spear. His hands come together, the whine sounds, and you mentally toggle one of the Chou boosts to send you flying across the ground as the Claymore Shock rips a massive hole in the vancrete.

The sound that follows is deafening, like a tornado arriving, as Weiss tackles you at full speed. The two of you crash through the hangar bay wall, and you kick him in the chest to separate as you fall into the cargo bay. You land on your feet, spotting Weiss already climbing a cargo container, and you grab the Ino sabot from your belt, loading it into your right Blackfire. You had to have this one custom-made to accommodate your wrist-mounted fire, but if it works… you fire three times, storing the power in the sabot, and as Weiss dashes toward a higher position you let it discharge.

The powerful projectile, loaded up with the force of several Blackfire shots, takes him down cleanly mid-jump. You don’t wait to see if he’s getting up; you have missiles of your own, and it’s time to use them. A pair of Laelaps fly out from your left shoulder, homing in on your brother. You turn to snap a Blackfire at an approaching Deerball, and that’s when you hear the sound.

Should’ve known he had a plan. The cargo containers are moving - and Weiss with them, a hover train pulling out and leaving you behind. You dash and lunge, Wild Pouncer firing to try and knock him off his perch, but it’s too late - the train is clear and bound for the deep Sahara.
>>
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The chopper! You dash back and climb, leaping through the broken wall. Still grounded. The pilot isn’t looking, and when he turns it’s to find an angry dog with claws around his throat. You hurl him out of the cockpit, Blackfire him as you examine the controls, and hit the liftoff toggle. The helicopter lurches into the air, and you lean out to blast a Wild Pouncer at an approaching Hoganmer. Weiss won’t escape you because of a goddamned ball and chain.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eaiJKLROq5M

You clear the hangar and rise into the night sky, the hover train already descending toward the desert. The abandoned highways provide the perfect cover for its course - it weaves beneath them on an invisible rail, a covert supply route for a base the African Union didn’t see fit to disclose. You increase speed, trying to get Weiss in range of your guns. In the distance you can see Ride Chasers following. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is the hunt.

The vehicle lurches as white shots burn through the darkness, homing in on their target. You fire the chopper’s guns, peppering the cargo train with a hail of shots as you try to keep the traitor off balance. You’re closing on him, and the next volley of shots is heading straight for you. Got to get the timing right or it won’t work - you shake a Seiren loose from your left leg and throw it with the buster shots only a few yards away, causing a rain of white-hot plasma as the device falls to the sand, pulling Weiss’s fire with it.

You’re close enough to lock eyes with him now. You level the chopper’s guns and tap the comms.

“Give up, Weiss.”

His shoulder opens.

“You should’ve listened, Schwarz. It’s too late now.”

You pull up, but the missile is already flying, and it catches the tail of the helicopter. You’re just close enough to leap from the cockpit and grab hold of a cargo container, hanging on for your life as the destroyed chopper explodes behind you. You dig in and climb, righting yourself atop the train, evaluating your options. Your shields are under half - you’re above 25%, but the difference is academic. Weiss has a couple of scorch marks on him, but he’s always been able to hide his fatigue and weakness - no way to tell where he’s at.

The overpass… a plan forms, not the greatest, but it might work if you can press him. Pounce Buster him to put him on guard… you start your approach, mentally cursing that your claws will be useless on a moving train, attempting to swarm him with buster shots. His own claws are still good for their primary purpose, but as he traces metal through the air, he’s providing you a bit of visual screen - just enough to get your Minuet knife and close to melee.
>>
Weiss tries to go for your arms and wrists, eyeing the Minuet hilt with suspicion - he can’t tell the length of the invisible ultrasonic “blade” it projects. You make use of the distraction to throw a kick, but he raises an arm to block and his shoulder snaps open. You drop and sweep with your leg, pulling up short and triggering your second Chou booster to flip upright behind him. His missile streaks down into the cargo containers, shredding through the reinforced metal like a hot knife through butter. Your claws spark and you swing, but he’s already turned, headbutting you. You jump as his buster fires, Pounce Buster raining down and putting you behind him.
The overpass approaches.

Weiss notices, of course, but your Wild Pouncer is there waiting for him, arresting his momentum and knocking him right into the concrete structure as you jump clear, landing on the highway above him. The train glides past unhindered, continuing on its journey into the heart of the desert.

You’ve got him.

Or so you think; the whine catches your ears, soft but just barely there. Have to move, have to run - the Claymore Shock breaks up through the road surface, carving a line along it. Since when could Weiss sustain it like that? The light fades and a trio of white plasma shots whip up from underneath the road, forcing you to dodge again. When you stop moving, Weiss is there, sharing the roadway with you, out in the middle of nowhere. A couple of lights on approach - Ride Chasers, more traitors to support your brother. You need this over, now.

A light to the south distracts you - something rising up from the ground, streaking into the sky, leaving a glowing trail. Was that…

“Ahaggar Base. An orbital launch station. Three Mavericks just went up to help us secure control,” Weiss says quietly. “The African Union discovered new Golentz lanes, new routes to power and prosperity. Could have shared them with the rest of the world.” His voice hardens. “They reap what they sow. It’s ours now. Everything they sent up. We will have total control over this continent’s orbital operations.”

“They’ve got Congo,” you growl. “Space-based weapons won’t work.”

He’s too sure of himself.

“What did you do?” His grin is cold and confident. “What did you DO?”

“You haven’t checked in at home for a while, have you?” he says softly, sounding too pleased with himself. “The cycle has to end, Schwarz. It’s the only way.”
>>
A chill grips you in the gut. Sigma. Sigma knew all about the Congo superweapon. Weiss had to know too. The Mavericks have done something to take it out of play, leaving the humans defenseless. Hot, boiling anger surges through you, propelling you to act. Your Blackfires snap shots at his position as you leap in an erratic pattern around him, Pounce Buster shots hemming him in. Your claws fly out as you drop behind a slab of concrete, firing your Wild Pouncer to propel it toward him. Even as it moves, the whine tells you what’s coming, and it takes a jump and your last remaining Chou boost to clear the deadly attack that splits it in two.

Weiss is on you as you land, Metal Scar whipping blades through the air, and you recall your claws as you leap through the steely obstacles to grapple your brother, locking an explosive on his chest. He punches you across the face and wrenches it free, tossing it aside as you go for a Blackfire to his face and he takes your legs out from under you, dropping you to the ground. The whine, that terrible whine, like a scream in your ears. You twist on the ground, trying to escape.

The world goes white.

The blinding light of the Claymore Shock fades, and you look up to see Weiss standing on your right arm. You try to bring your left around but the edge of the attack has split it down to the elbow. He’s going to do it, he’s going to end it, and your mind howls in disbelief, in rage, in despair. How could he do this to you? How did things break down so far?

He looks down at you, eyes full of pain, and time seems to slow. You see the scratches and dents and scorch marks, see past the invincible facade to the tired and confused brother beneath. Somehow, it’s so much worse. If he’s going to do this, you need to see a monster in his eyes. Your brother, the brother you love, can’t be the one doing this to you.

“Goodbye, Schwarz.”
>>
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A glowing green light erupts through his chest, a four-pointed star spreading cracks as the extremes converge from four to two. Weiss falls to one knee, face painted in disbelief as his LIFE energy begins to arc out into the crumbled concrete of the road. His arm raises, then goes limp at his side, and you see his eyes flickering as they overload.

Striker Cobra approaches, his buster arm tethered by a green energy cable to the hook that ruptured Weiss’s torso. Anger radiates from him, seeming to pulse in time with the energy that’s beginning to fail in your brother. One of Cobra’s shoulder missiles rotates up to a firing position.

“Any last words?” he hisses at the Maverick.

Weiss’s blue eyes find your red ones, and his face softens as he speaks to you one final time.

“I’m not sorry, and I love you.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKPZJ0nEq0E

The hook rips free, and he tumbles backwards. The white hound shines bright a final time, and then he’s gone.

He’s gone.
>>
When brother fights brother, there can only be one outcome. History tells the story again and again, yet no one ever learns from it. Which version shall we look at next?

> A student of destruction forced to face the master
> A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
> A second chance making his first impression
> An immovable force facing an unstoppable object
>>
>>4140104
>> A student of destruction forced to face the master
>>
>>4140097
>Striker Cobra just completely ganks Weiss
Really puts the gap between S and G into perspective.
Ain't nothin but a G thang baby
>>
>>4140122
To be fair, you loosened the lid for him.
>>
>>4140104
>A student of destruction forced to face the master
>>
>>4140104
> A second chance making his first impression
>>
>>4140097
>“I’m not sorry, and I love you.”
Oof, poor Schwarz.
>>
>>4140104
> A second chance making his first impression
>>
>>4140104
> A second chance making his first impression
>>
>>4140104
>An immovable force facing an unstoppable object
>>
>>4140104
>A second chance making his first impression
>>
Closing vote to prep update, will be posted late tomorrow.
>>
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>>4140104
>A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
>>
>>4140796
Are you going to sneak Weisshund onto the wiki like you did with the guys from India's foray? I'm onto you Cain.

Loving this stuff, by the way. Keep it coming.
>>
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>>4141420
It's known to happen.

And glad to hear it. I'm still enjoying passenger-seating things, neat to see the sausage getting made.
>>
I get the feeling that all of these are more connected than might be apparent at first blush...
>>
Was Schwarz joking when he said he'd never seen a real dog before?
>>
>>4140161
>>4140173
>>4140345
>>4140667

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vunkDGP9byQ

You are Major Rhodes, recently commissioned Maverick Hunter, and you’ve just completed your first mission.

It’s not a time for celebration, though - you’ve helped put out a single fire, but they continue to spread. “Hunter Killers.” Mavericks dedicated to drawing out and murdering Maverick Hunters. Dozens of young Hunters from the 2nd generation have already fallen into their clutches, and some of their elders have been taken down as well. It’s a scenario designed to cripple world response to another major war. A scenario crafted by the likes of Sigma.

And you are his heir.

The Greek Division took pains to reduce how much of Sigma people might see in you, for your benefit as much as theirs. Your color scheme, facial structure, even armaments configuration - none of them resemble their previous product. Yet your size, your purpose, and above all your very provenance… you can’t escape the comparisons, because inevitably, the research that built you invites them.

So you’ll prove them wrong.

Commander X gave you a roster of eight key targets to retire, major Hunter Killers whose attacks have come close to forcing X himself out into the field. You’re here so that he can protect the next generation. You cannot fail. You must not fail.

You have already taken out one of the eight targets, and you’re already en route to another. You’ll have a chance to test out your Modular Weapons System, which your developers assured you would make you a Reploid like no other. Given what you know of Sigma, Algol, and others who have come before, you’re not sure if that’s a good thing - the last thing you need is to be the next in a long line of exceptional Reploids with no checks and balances.

Who did you defeat, where are you off to, and how did you configure the recovered DNA?

Choose one of the below to be defeated, a different one to be the next mission.

> Brightroar Lion
> Ice Direwolf
> Longthorn Rose
> Moonfall Eagle
> Reave Kraken
> Sandsear Viper
> Tempest Stag
> Trident Trout

And choose a slot for your recovered DNA:

> Right Arm: Modifies right punch
> Left Arm: Modifies left punch
> Right Shoulder: Adds projectile attack
> Left Shoulder: Adds projectile attack
> Chest: Modifies shield & armor properties
> Back: Adds area-of-effect attack
> Legs: Modifies mobility
> Boots: Modifies dash
>>
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>>4141962
To make things easier on CL (lest we give him THE NUMBERS 2.0), let's standardize the vote format to something like this:

>Defeated: NAME
>Target: NAME
>Upgrade: PART
>>
>>4141962
>Defeated: Reave Kracken
>Target: Brightroar Lion
>Upgrade: Chest

Seemed most interesting part combo, and Lion was a dick to Em, so fuck him
>>
>>4141962
>Your color scheme, facial structure, even armaments configuration - none of them resemble their previous product.
That's the smallest chin they could give you!?

>Defeated: Eagle
>Target: Stag
>Upgrayedd: Legs

>>4141973
He wasn't too much of a dick, unlike SOME OTHER Maverick double agents we know, just too focused on hiding his true colors (kinda poorly, in retrospect). Fuck, he was probably Seven's tutor.
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

I'm thinking Reave or Sandsear on the back, targeting Longthorn or Stag. so lemme flip a coin.
>>
>>4141962
>Defeated: Reave Kraken
>Target: Sandsear Viper
>Upgrade: Right Shoulder
>>
>>4141962
>Defeated: Reave Kraken
>Target: Tempest Stag
>Upgrade: Back
>>
>>4141962
>Defeated: Moonfall Eagle
>Target: Longthorn Rose
>Upgrade: Back
>>
>>4141962
I definitely want to include Longthorn Rose just for being the odd-one-out, but since we know Brightroar, I’m going with

>Defeated: Longthorn Rose
>Target: Brightroar Lion
>Upgrade: Chest
>>
>>4141962
>Defeated: Longthorn Rose
>Target: Brightroar Lion
>Upgrade: Adds projectile attack
>>
>>4142299
Upgrade: Right Shoulder

Rather
>>
>>4141962
Yooooo this character art is sick. I have no clue how to even begin to choose here, so I'm just going to toss a few dice and throw in with someone else's vote...


>Defeated: Longthorn Rose
>Target: Brightroar Lion
>Upgrade: Right Shoulder
>>
>>4142317
Yeah, the Rhodes art is awesome.
>>
>>4141962
>Defeated: Moonfall Eagle
>Target: Trident Trout
>Upgrade: Back
>>
>>4141962
>Defeated: Moonfall Eagle
>Target: Longthorn Rose
>Upgrade: Back
>>
>>4141962
>Defeated: Reave Kracken
>Target: Brightroar Lion
>Upgrade: Chest
>>
>>4141962
> Defeated: Moonfall Eagle
> Target: Reave Kraken
> Upgrade: Right Arm
>>
Tie broken, vote closed.
>>
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Your comm chimes and Polly’s voice intrudes on your thoughts.

“Have you selected your next mission, Major?” the Comm Logis asks.

“Lion,” you confirm, tapping the screen to lock in your selection. “He’s too dangerous to be left alone.”

“Copy. Sending the data. Departure pad ready when you are.”

Brightroar Lion. A promising officer with 4th Overland. A real head for strategy, an expert in logistics, in scheduling, in resourcing…

In treachery, it turned out.

Polly’s files filter through and you review as you prepare for beamout. Lion’s M.O. hasn’t changed with his colors - just like he destroyed the Hit Readies and the 5Rs, now his Mavericks are going after the new PRO line at a factory in Birmingham, England. You have no advance team - you’re going into the allied drop point blind.

You beam out.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfNHui7hb9E

Your arrival is in a brilliant glass hallway in a vast and modern building that barely looks like a factory at all. They must have used good materials in this place, you consider darkly as you look at the splintered remains of a few unlucky Reploids who were likely the first line of defense. Security is already active here, Barrier Attackers patrolling the darkened corridors beyond the entryway. Not much in the line of a welcoming committee.

You advance, looking for traps and finding none. A security gate has been smashed through, the only sign of anything amiss outside of the bits of destroyed Reploid everywhere. You duck under the opening, squeezing through to a main area with a well-appointed cafeteria, bright meeting rooms, a communications hub…

If it weren’t for the total absence of human activity, anyone might think this place was perfectly safe.
>>
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“Company,” Polly chimes. “Above.” You look up in time to see a light grey Reploid with a hover pack descending on you, grabbing him out of midair as he raises a handheld device. His eyes register panic.

“Here’s the rules,” you tell your captive. “Right answers, you stay on my good side. Wrong answers, I use you to check around corners. Facefirst. You follow?” He nods and you move your hand, letting him speak.

“You’re not a Maverick,” he gasps as his jets shut off. You give him a hard look. “That’s good - I mean, I’m Goode. That’s good too.” If only your stare could pull information out of someone’s head. “Goode. Scotland Yard. We had word that ITEM was breached and they sent us out to investigate.” He sizes you up, noting the emblem on your shoulder. “Hunter?”

“Hunter. Rhodes.” Oops, you forgot - you set him down gently. “Sorry for the rough greeting. There’s a major hostile on site. We believe he’s after the PRO series.”

Goode’s eyes go wide. “We can’t allow that. The War cost too many already, England needs those reinforcements.”

The room seems too quiet, the Mechaniloids happily buzzing back and forth. You’re trying to watch every approach, all too conscious of the number of windows in the place.

“Give me what you know.”

“Cycl0P5, at least four, equipped for Ride Armor piloting. ITEM has some on the factory level. Pair of Hoganmers - they got Deddings shortly after we arrived. I don’t think they saw me. We sent three teams in over the last week. Deddings, Hardy, and I were the fourth team. Hardy was our combat specialist, I’m an investigator.”

“And Deddings?” you look at the remains of a Reploid head nearby.

“...defense expert,” he mutters.

Your comm pings, and you start reviewing blueprints Polly is transmitting. You can see the layout of the building - the question is, which approach to use, and whether your new friend will be joining you.

> The factory floor is where sabotage would happen. Smash your way in.
> Engineering section is more strongly defended, but if he’s hacking them, that’s where to go.
> It may be too late to stop the sabotage - hit the transport bay to stop them shipping out.

And

> Goode, stick with me.
> Let’s split up. I’ll make noise, you gather intel.
> This place is too dangerous for you. Fall back and let me deal with this.
>>
>>4143915
>Factory floor.
>Split up. Little guy's kept quiet and unnoticed so far.
>>
>>4143915
>Engineering section is more strongly defended, but if he’s hacking them, that’s where to go.
factory floor would have more space for ride armors

> Let’s split up. I’ll make noise, you gather intel.
Wonder if Goode can take the transport bay
>>
>>4143915
> Engineering section is more strongly defended, but if he’s hacking them, that’s where to go
> Let’s split up. I’ll make noise, you gather intel
>>
>>4143915
>Engineering section is more strongly defended, but if he's hacking them, that's where to go.

>Let's split up. I'll make noise, you gather intel.
>>
>>4143915
> Engineering section is more strongly defended, but if he’s hacking them, that’s where to go.
> Let’s split up. I’ll make noise, you gather intel.
>>
>>4143915
> Engineering section is more strongly defended, but if he’s hacking them, that’s where to go.
> Let’s split up. I’ll make noise, you gather intel.
>>
>>4143915
>The factory floor is where sabotage would happen. Smash your way in.
> Let’s split up. I’ll make noise, you gather intel.
>>
>>4143993
>>4144028
>>4144031
>>4144159
>>4144314

“Heading to Engineering, Polly,” you comm. Turning to look at Goode, you indicate another corridor. “I’m heading to the higher security section. See if you can scout anything from the lower floors.” He nods. “Try to avoid the Mavericks. They’re my job.” You hold out an arm and he reaches up to bump busters with you, the tap copying comm codes for one another.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6f8GT_uv7w

Goode splits off as you head up the stairs to the elevator, which appears to be sealed. A drone announces several Barrier Attackers converging on you. Easy enough - your fist smashes through the force barrier to grab the first Mechaniloid that approaches, and you hit the door controls with it. Hm. No luck. The next one meets the door controls too, then a third, and finally you grab the fourth and throw it through the next few in the corridor. You’ll have to handle the door the old fashioned way.

Pure, brute strength does what breaking electronics wouldn’t, though the elevator isn’t moving. You look up to see Sine Fallers already heading toward you, Dodge Blasters slowly sliding down the walls. Sighing, you punch through the elevator control panel. “Polly, any idea which word controls this thing?” you comm to your Navigator, who mutters at you under her breath. “Right, we’ll just try - “ you connect a cord to another sparking wire and the elevator lurches upward uneasily.

“Dumb luck, Rhodes,” chimes the voice in your ear.

“Best kind, Polis.”

“Call me that again and I will end you.”

“Take a number.” A Sine Faller swings down toward your head, and you grab it out of the sky, flinging it at a Dodge Blaster. The other wall cannons drift upward rapidly, attempting to get away from any other projectiles you might throw. Smart, for fancy turrets. You dash off the elevator platform as it reaches the Engineering level, the door parting to admit you automatically…

...and slamming shut in your wake, locking immediately.

A whooshing sound catches your attention - two Hoganmers flank you, and a ball & chain comes flying at your face. Your hand whips up as you give your best shouldn’t-have-done-that look at the offending Maverick, seizing the ball firmly. Its eyes go wide, and you can see it registering the true magnitude of its error right before you swing it into the other Hoganmer, the two Reploids exploding on contact with one another.

“Rhodes?” comes the ping in your comm. “Goode here. Uh… we have a problem. I’m on the factory level now.”
>>
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“Copy. What’s wrong?”

“Ride Armors here, but… no PROs.”

What.

“Nothing. Production line is vacant, bays cleared.”

Your eyes follow a beacon Mechaniloid as it streaks in and scans the room, then starts projecting a glowing spotlight on the floor.

“Polly, are you hearing?”

“Yes Major. Checking now. Site security reports show activity for the past several days at the factory, trucks coming in and going out on schedule. They’ve been supplying components for the PRO line. The manifests check out.”

A Gun Volt beams into the spotlight and the beacon moves to set up a new one. You sidestep the missiles it snapfires at you.

“The manifests before arrival?”

Polly’s comm goes silent for a moment, before you hear the low groan.

“What?” Goode asks. He can’t hear her.

“The trucks. Lion’s Mavericks must have captured them on arrival. Legitimate arrivals, but they used the departures to ship out the Reploids.” You sigh. Should have known it wouldn’t be this easy. “Can we track them, Polly?” You lunge at the Gun Volt, delivering a peppery right jab that causes it to stumble slightly. It discharges electric orbs into you at point blank range, which stings but doesn’t distract you from finishing it off with a crushing left hook. Another Gun Volt is appearing behind you.

“Accessing logs now - “

“Hang on,” Goode interrupts, “there’s one last truck here. I can see the transport bay.”

“Where’s that from my position, Polly?”

“30 floors down, 200m north-northeast.”

So glad Eagle forced you to test-drive your ability to endure gravity, you think as you rapidly descend 30 floors by way of a broken window. The transport bay is nearby; only question now is how to use what you know.

> Truck headed for unknown destination? Stow away.
> Find driver. Make inquiries. Threaten punches.
> Other?
>>
>>4145096
>Truck headed for unknown destination? Stow away.

GOD let us find a way to hide fuckin RHODES in a truck unnoticed. I'd like that very much.
>>
>>4145096
>Truck headed for unknown destination? Stow away.
so we're not just late, we're waaaaaaay late?
>>
>>4145120
>"We sent three teams in over the last week."

Yyyyeeeaaah.
>>
>>4145107
It's a big truck, and the payload is off the books already, so
>Truck headed for unknown destination? Stow away.
>>
>>4145096
> Truck headed for unknown destination? Stow away.
Too classic to ignore
>>
>>4145096
>Truck headed for unknown destination? Stow away.
I'm sure no one will notice the extra weight on the back suspension.
>>
>>4145096
>Truck headed for unknown destination? Stow away.

Uh-oh! The truck have started to move!
>>
>>4145096
>Truck headed for unknown destination? Stow away
>>
>>4145459
Also if we're gonna do this we should probably tell Goode to get out of dodge.
>>
>>4145096
>Truck headed for unknown destination? Stow away.
>>
Welp.

Guess who's got two thumbs and a quarantine for coming into direct contact with a coronavirus patient at work?
>>
>>4145867
Well, it could be worse. You could have encountered a viral maverick.
>>
>>4145867
Stay safe, dude!
>>
>>4145867
years of writing about infected characters has culminated in this one moment
>>
>>4145867
Shit dude, that blows ass. Have fun on your 2 week vacation and don't die pls.
>>
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>>4145867
Ah fuck. Fingers crossed for ya man.
>>
>>4145979
>>4147042
I blame associating with Cain Labs for a plurality of years.

Also, thanks, all, I greatly appreciate it. I'm keeping an eye on my temperature and such. Also not venturing forth into civilization, a friend of mine is gonna pick up perishables for me and I've got a stock of dry goods.
>>
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>>4145107
>>4145120
>>4145289
>>4145423
>>4145459
>>4145491
>>4145520
>>4145738

You dash toward the loading bay as quietly as you are able, which is still loud enough that if there hadn’t been Mechaniloids moving cargo about, you would have been immediately detected. Contemplating your options, you notice there’s a large Mechaniloid shipping container nearby.

Are you really going to do this?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=km40jvV5lhM

Goddammit… yes, yes you are. Looking about to make sure no one can see, you hoist yourself up to look in. There’s a new sort of legged turret Mechaniloid in there that you don’t recognize, and you have just enough room to slide an arm down to grab it under the main head section. It wrenches off with ease, and you thank your TAK-designed impellers for giving you enough strength to - literally - pull this off. This stupid plan. This dumb, dumb, why are you doing this plan.

You sigh mentally, your self-doubt not at all helped by the comm ping as Polis chirps in your ear. “What are you doing, Major? Because you’re not seriously - “

“Yep.” What are you doing indeed, Major Rhodes? Putting yourself in a box, that’s what.

“Rhodes,” Polly chimes, “don’t do this. Truck, remember? Get driver, remove driver, interrogate driver? You know, any kind of sound procedure?”

You reply in text, as you hear voices approaching and hurriedly close the cargo crate lid.

“Job isn’t to stop the truck. Job’s to stop the traitor who planned it all.”

“So question the Mavericks.”

“Can’t afford the risk - need to get close to him before he slips away again. Brightroar can’t be allowed another week; he’s done too much already.”

Your comm goes silent, and you listen at the side of the crate, awkwardly aware of your uncomfortable crouched position and the Mechaniloid leg you forgot to toss out. You feel the crate shifting ever so slightly, and then an exclamation of surprise. “Wait, was this always so heavy? Can we even load this one?” Dumb plan, dumb, dumb plan, dumbest plan. You’re about to give up and punch your way through the crate and straight into Plan B, when another voice calls out.

“We’ve got the Ride Loader, it’ll work.”

Work it does, despite taking what feels like an hour, though your internal chronometer tracked it to just under eight minutes. You transmit a text comm to Goode: “Get out, track my signal.”

“Where are you?” he sends back.

“In the truck.”
>>
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A few minutes later, Polly chimes in your ear. “Major Rhodes, I just wanted to mention that we received a confirmation request about you from Scotland Yard.”

“Oh really.”

“Don’t worry, I told them I’ve never heard of you and that you’re obviously a deeply disturbed individual.”

“Polis, I am stuck in a box on the road to who knows where so that I can fight a traitor on his home turf. Could you, could you please, consider cutting me some slack right now?

“I could...” The comm drops. Goddammit Polly.

You can feel the truck driving, and after an hour it pulls in somewhere. “Airport,” Polly comms, and your mood sinks lower as you realize you’re crate-committed for even more time. Soon enough, the truck lurches upward, and the unmistakable sounds of takeoff follow. You wait for hours in the dark, scrunched up like a paper ball, frustration gnawing at you.

“Polly? Any idea of our destination?”

“Heading toward the Middle East,” she tells you. “Looks like… well, I thought Jordan, but…” she goes silent for a moment, then “well that can’t be right.”

You want to bang your head against the crate wall. “WHAT can’t be right, Polly?”

“Flight path isn’t descending fast enough. You’re either going to be deviating significantly, dropping into the Indian Ocean,” she pauses, “or he’s airborne.”

Her suspicion is confirmed before too long, as the aircraft descends slightly and banks, slowing down to connect to something outside. You wait until the engine sounds stop, then slam a hand upward to knock the lid off the cargo container, the box tilting and spilling you out unceremoniously.

Bet Sigma never had missions like this.

The aircraft’s cargo bay contains several rows of humanoid Reploids you recognize from the mission briefing - ITEM’s new PRO line, the next generation of England’s security. Heat wells up in you as you remember what Lion is known to have done already - two production model lines eliminated or turned Maverick, a legion of brand-new Reploids destroyed before their time, all of it perpetrated in broad daylight, in full view of his colleagues. He was quiet, he was thorough, and he is going to pay for it with his life.
>>
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvA5kk3MQMI

As soon as the cargo bay doors open, you dash out fist-first, punching a Ride Loader backward. Scramblers advance on you, and you grab one by the arm, swinging it around to smash another even as a third manages to grab you. Your shields don’t even flicker. The Ride Loader is still up, and two Ride Armors are coming at you. You tank a punch to your shoulder from one as you twist away to jab with your left at the other, knocking it back. Oof… your shields registered that one. They’re coming at you again - you dash at the nearest one, delivering a hefty uppercut as you both spill out of the unloading zone and out into wherever you are.

“We’ve arrived,” you comm to Polly as you look over the area. The sun is setting, casting a reddish glow over a congeries of pillars, a web of girders and meshes and batteries and engine components, a filigree of engineering achievement suspended in the sky. It looks like a skycity, or the beginnings of one at least, but not one you recognize. “Any ideas?”

“You’re over the Red Sea. I think this must be a Saudi construction project… matches the description of Hamar. Aborted skycity. Be on your guard,” she warns, “intel reports I’ve pulled suggest it was supposed to be more of a fortress than a city.”

Right now, you’re just trying to be on guard against these Ride Armors. The more damaged of the two is still upright, and the other is coming at you quickly. You seize an incoming Scrambler to fling at the cockpit as you press the more damaged one back, moving up a ramp. You’ve backed him into a corner - well, into a ledge, at least. He doesn’t look like he wants to jump, attempting instead to strafe dash to the right. You don’t let him - that old model isn’t designed to strafe very well, and the obvious tell lets you left hook the machine over the edge.

Oh. Oh that’s why he wasn’t dropping.

A good thirty or forty Reploids look up at you from a plaza below, all PROs. At the far end, resplendent in red and gold, is the traitor you’re hunting. Brightroar Lion looks at you impassively, sizing you up. He’s smaller than you, physically, but something about the way he holds himself gives him stature, makes him more imposing even from a distance.

“Maverick Hunter,” he acknowledges, speaking in a quiet voice that carries across the plaza. “Everyone - kill him.”

> Open with your new weapon - if ever there was a time for an area of effect, it’s now.
> Save the big gun for the main target - it’s brawler time.
> Fall back to force them into more favorable engagements.
>>
>>4147194
>Open with your new weapon - if ever there was a time for an area of effect, it’s now.
Is falling back after that still wise? Even if they know about the new weapon, that just means Brightroar will come himself and save us the brawl.
>>
>>4147194
>> Open with your new weapon - if ever there was a time for an area of effect, it’s now.
This very much looks like a Zero class situation. Even if this is not all his men, it clears the air.
Also, the image of Rhodes in a box is glorious.
>>
>>4147194
>Open with your new weapon - if ever there was a time for an area of effect, it’s now.
>>
>>4147194
>Fall back to force them into more favorable engagements.
>>
>>4147194
> Open with your new weapon - if ever there was a time for an area of effect, it’s now.
>>
>>4147194
>Open with your new weapon - if ever there was a time for an area of effect, it’s now.
Don't want him getting away again.
>>
>>4147194
> Open with your new weapon - if ever there was a time for an area of effect, it’s now.
>>
>>4147194
>Open with your new weapon - if ever there was a time for an area of effect, it’s now.
Clear the space, get to the fuck as fast as possible, and remove his face.
>>
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>>4147195
>>4147216
>>4147219
>>4147451
>>4147502
>>4147622
>>4147634

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DakaFgcvZ9g

A sea of busters points up at you. Tough numbers, and your real target is already falling back into a tower on the far side of the plaza. Only one thing to do, obviously.

“CYCLONE COMET,” you roar as you activate the massive cannon on your back. You grin as you feel the dedicated LIFE cell pump energy into the weapon. They’re not ready for this. It’s going to be epic. It’s going to be -

“...really?” Polly sighs.

“...I thought it worked,” you grumble. Not like the name matters, you can change it anyway, almost everyone who heard it is about to feel it for the first and likely last time. The glowing projectile arcs out overhead, the high-energy light causing the PROs to flinch for just a second. Then it impacts, crushing two of them - and a massive buffeting windstorm explodes outward from the blast, utterly shredding the nearest Reploids and knocking the rest away. Two of them are flung toward you. You catch them, smashing them facefirst into one another.

“Left,” Polly warns as a buster shot whips past. You flinch as another one wings your arm. “Also right,” the voice in your comm says lamely as you follow the line of fire back to a PRO behind a heavy girder. You throw one of his smashed brethren at him to provide a distraction while you leap down, fist crushing into one of the surviving PROs left of you. Something clips across your back, pinging your shield, and Polly directs your attention to a cycloptic Reploid holding what looks like a heavy discus.

“New Cycl0P5 version?”

“Outdated limited model. Disk Boy 01.”

“Kinetic projectile shouldn’t hurt me, especially not at those speeds.”

“They’re designed to draw shield energy. Cheap-shot you down.”

You nod, making sure to dodge the next discus it throws. The damage was trivial, but with Lion still out there, you don’t need to tank more damage. The third one you let fly into the wall behind you, pulling it out and frisbeeing it back to take off the disk Maverick’s head.

“Sloppy design. Needs stronger defenses. At least something to stop me doing that.”

“Don’t complain,” Polly sighs, “when it works out for you. Watch out in front, newcomers.”

A Ride Armor with clamplike hands, a Muzzle Crash, and a Cola Boy are what she means by “newcomers,” as they descend from an elevator platform to your level. You feel the blue light radiate from your eyes as your optics ping an extra threat and automatically switch to detection, locating a pair of Geists sliding down the walls from either side.
>>
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“What should I call it this time?”

“Uh… I don’t know. Moon Maelstrom?”

“No.”

“Satellite Smash?”

“Enh.”

“Is this really the best time to be doing this? Just say Lunar something. Lunar Cannon.”

Done and done. “LUNAR CANNON,” you roar as you spend ⅓ of your remaining ammunition to fill the plaza with another windstorm. No… still not right. You shake your head as the Ride Armor, apparently undamaged, charges toward you. Your punch connects solidly with the abdomen, but the clamp-hand catches your other arm, which fills with numbness.

“Reading a magnetic attack from the Ride Armor,” Polly chimes.

“I noticed,” you growl back. “How many threats left?” Buster shots fly past you.

“Muzzle Crash still attacking. 2 o’clock,” she tells you, and you hurl your weight against the Ride Armor to shift it into the enemy’s line of sight just as the Maverick’s cannon shot fires, lancing through the armor and breaking off the clamp arm. You kick the heavy vehicle away from you and pull the clamp off your left with your right. You watch one of the Geists circling surreptitiously, unaware that you can see through his optical camouflage. Perfect target for a thrown clamp-arm, though he’s quick enough to duck. Not quite quick enough to know what to do when you dash punch the pillar he’s hiding behind, sending it collapsing down on him.

Your shields flare - the Muzzle Crash is still up, of course, and you throw a chunk of rubble to force him to dodge, opening a timing window to close on him. By the time the cannon has been set to fire anew, your hand is on the barrel and your other hand is backhanding him across the face so hard that his head spins clear of his body, which falls to its knees as begins exploding.

“Was that all of them?”

“As far as I can see. I’m using your telemetry, remember.”

Right. That makes Polis pretty blind to whatever else Brightroar has planned for you in his flying funhouse. Sighing, you dash to the door he escaped through, breaking through it while considering whether your new blasting cannon weapon might have any better name lurking beneath the surface. Cannon shells rip into your chest as the door breaks open - oh hey, one of those things like the one you threw out of the crate! And it hurt - not a lot, but you’ve taken a few scratches already. Best not to give it time. You dash and leap, clearing one follow-up shot but getting grazed by the next as you land and punch. A quick one-two combo destroys the Mechaniloid.
>>
“Above,” Polly alerts you just in time, as you jump back to avoid an explosive dropping from the sky. Something overhead is peppering the air with parachuting bombs. Not the best place to stay - you hit an access panel and dash through the next door to avoid the falling ordnance.

Oh what fresh hell is this.

What awaits is not so much a “room” as it is the storyboard of how one might come together, a scattering of floating pillars without floor or any apparent supports. It doesn’t take Polly chiming in your ear to let you know that beneath them is a long trip down into the Red Sea. And of course, each and every one of them is crowned with a Turn Cannon, all of which activate to fill the area with deterring shots.

Two possible routes, no great options.

> Try the previous room, tank a few bombs to climb and find Brightroar’s chamber.
> Stick to this one, try to clear it - less chance Brightroar has securitized an incomplete route.
>>
>>4147980
>Stick to this one, try to clear it - less chance Brightroar has securitized an incomplete route.
Less muscle is less muscle. Hit the Turn Cannons, then proceed.
>>
>>4147980
>Stick to this one, try to clear it - less chance Brightroar has securitized an incomplete route.

Moonstruck Hurricane? Perigee Downburst? Selenic Squall? Meniscate Maelstrom? Albedo Vortex?
>>
>>4147980
>Try the previous room, tank a few bombs to climb and find Brightroar’s chamber.
We don't really have projectiles, so.
>>
>>4147980
Stormeye

Why stick to 2 word names?
>>
>>4147980
>Try the previous room, tank a few bombs to climb and find Brightroar’s chamber.
Most direct route and we'll have a little more room to evade without plummeting into the sea.
>>
>Stick to this one, try to clear it - less chance Brightroar has securitized an incomplete route.
This sounds good.
>>
Aright. Thinking about it, the Moonfall weapon is some kind of wind and maybe gravity weapon. I'm going to guess that the wind component is from some kind of pressure caused by the light sphere... Which I guess would be where the gravity comes in? It was described as crushing, not vaporizing, so maybe it's some kind of density thing, like a neutron star...?

Uh. Moonlight Burst...?
>>
Cavitation Impact
>>
>>4147980
>Stick to this one, try to clear it - less chance Brightroar has securitized an incomplete route.
>>
>>4148115
That's HERESY.
>>
>>4148521
I will admit that with the obvious exception, all of my reploid names have been alliterative.

Damnit, it just SOUNDS right.
>>
>>4148521
Open your mind to the POSSIBILITIES. Awaken to your potential, unfettered by human-

-hangon, I'm starting to sound like a maverick.
>>
>>4148521
At least until X gets that weapon that's just called "Explosion"
Or literally any of Zero's techniques
>>
>>4147980
>> Stick to this one, try to clear it - less chance Brightroar has securitized an incomplete route

Hmmmm dumb move names..
Lunar Typhoon
Floridian Nightmare
Moon Monsoon
BigWind Canon
Galeforce Blast
Giga Gale
>>
>>4147980
> Stick to this one, try to clear it - less chance Brightroar has securitized an incomplete route.
Anything we can throw at em?

>>4148740
Floridian Nightmare is fucking hilarious.
t. Floridian
That said, I need a bit more to go on than just a Mav name to think of something good. If it's wind, Cyclone Crusher? Crescent Cyclone?
>>
>>4148011
>>4148056
>>4148327
>>4148440
>>4148740
>>4148794

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Rh_NyfE9Lw

Neither route is appealing, but you’re here already - and Brightroar is less likely to have adequately secured such a hazardous route up.

Not that he needs to, you curse as you size up the situation. The Turn Cannons are leaving precious little window for a Hunter half your size to get through; with only a single questionable ranged option and your massive frame, you can’t see a way to avoid taking a few hits. Sighing, you grab the wall and kick off for altitude, coming down on the first Turn Cannon in its blind spot to crush it with your fist. A shot from another one clips you in the back as you do. While your shields are still engaged, you lunge to another pillar, delivering a quick jab to smash the turret.

“Major, trouble ahead,” Polly alerts, and you realize why - there are cracks in the next couple of pillars, smoke issuing from below. No choice, though; you jump over, eating a Turn Cannon shot and landing on top of it to crush it with your weight. Immediately the damaged pillar begins to fail, shuddering as it surrenders altitude. No time to see what happens - next one gives you the same outcome, and it’s not until the one after that that you feel on somewhat stable footing, though still much more narrow footing than you’d like. A three-nozzled Mechaniloid on the back wall rotates its turret head to spray small shots your way, but it doesn’t even faze you. You clear the gap and land on the ledge, accessing the door beyond.

Well, you were right - somewhat. There’s a Ride Armor in this room, but it’s unpiloted. Fewer pillars to work with here. “Any ideas for this one, Polly?” you mutter as you gauge the jump distance required.

“Ceiling. Handholds there.”

“Does it ever bother you that between the two of us, neither one ever has a good plan?”

“All the time, Major.”

The wall gives you leverage to reach the ceiling, and you begin to swing, conscious of the very long drop should you mistime your grip. It’s not terrible, though; would be much worse if there were -

“Jammingers closing,”

Yes that. “Dammit,” you rumble as you see the flying Mechaniloids swarming in from below. The pillar… you swing and leap, just barely making it. As your enemies approach, a couple of well-placed punches take them out of commission. Now for the hard part; it takes a few tries to time the jump so that you can catch a handhold again. The rest of the crossing seems to take an eternity, but it deposits you into a service elevator in short order.
>>
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As you ascend, you take stock of your resources. You have two shots of the Nameless Weapon remaining, your energy is sitting just above 75%. Based on the specs Polly provided, you’re physically stronger than Brightroar if it comes down to a boxing match, but he’s a bit quicker and not stupid enough to let you have the fight you want.

The elevator reaches the top, a pair of Flammingles activating to throw blades at you. They haven’t given you much room to maneuver in this tight space, but you can just dash beneath them. Once you’re on top of the Mechaniloids, that’s the end of it - you grab the first tall, flimsy robot and throw it into the second, destroying both. Nothing left to impede you. The final door parts, and you advance to face the traitor who burned the future of over 200 Reploids.

Brightroar Lion is looking at a number of screens covering one wall, murmuring something to a smaller Reploid, who turns and spots you. Lion waves him off, and your eyes follow the underling as he bolts out of the room. You size up the tactical situation; solid walls, floor level except for a small raised platform in the middle, no obvious structural weak points. If Hamar was built to be a fortress, this section is a testament to the success of that design.

“It’s over, Lion. Disengage your weapons and we can make this peaceful.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-tj_IzTJ2Y

The Maverick turns to face you, an amused smirk on his face. “Peaceful? You lack the resources for that. I made that a certainty.”

“Why?” you growl.

His demeanor shifts slightly, the poise of a teacher regarding an ignorant child. “Why? You are an aberration. A breach of the order of things. You fight for a world of chaos, a world without hope of peace.”

“Because of scum like you.”

“Because in the world you seek, you are both hero and villain. Hope and fear. Your very existence the problem you exist to solve,” Lion scoffs, shaking his mane. “Sigma thought you could all come around, once his war was won.”

“Sigma was a -”

“Your failing,” Lion roars over you, and for a fleeting second you find yourself feeling small in front of him. “Your failing is that you are irrational. The Hunters are an irrational thing. There can be a world of humans or a world of Reploids. As long as the Hunters exist to champion chaos, mediocrity, and irrational optimism, neither world can ever come to pass. There will be fear, and never peace.” His voice goes quiet. “The power to enact peace is in our hands, Hunter. Peace requires power, power set to absolute ends. Leniency, compromise, middle ground… these are where conflict is born.”

“Think what you like,” you say flatly, “but your failure of imagination is no excuse for what you’ve done.”
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“I need no excuse. No apology. I have given you my answer. It is not my concern if you lack conviction in yours.” He crouches slightly, claws raised, a combat stance.

> Open with the big gun, see how it does.
> Get in close quickly, force him to fight on your terms.
> Keep your distance to assess his attacks.
> Other?
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>>4149240
>Get in close quickly, force him to fight on your terms.
Let him think the gun is empty if we can for now. Also
>"That's an awfully rehearsed speech for someone who believes what they're saying."
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>>4149240
>> Get in close quickly, force him to fight on your terms.

Gotta size him up before we unleash the big guns, but we don't have to let him take potshots at us to do it.
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>>4149238
>your energy is sitting just above 75%
Rhodes is a damn tank, that's for sure.

>>4149240
>Get in close quickly, force him to fight on your terms.
He's got a whole lot of dakka, right? That's what we should spend the aoe on.
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>>4149240
>Get in close quickly, force him to fight on your terms.
>>
dumb thought, but.

We can't protect Anode's conduits from acid since that would prevent them from doing their job. And most temporary covering would be very inconvenient to put on and off when we don't know what we're up against.

Soooo, are those black coats ACID resistant?
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>>4149240
> Get in close quickly, force him to fight on your terms.
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>>4149240
>Keep your distance to assess his attack.
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>>4149240
>Keep your distance to assess his attacks.
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>Get in close quickly, force him to fight on your terms.
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>>4149417
We gotta earn those coats first.

>>4149240
> Get in close quickly, force him to fight on your terms.
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>>4149240
>Get in close quickly, force him to fight on your terms
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>>4149347
>>4149384
>>4149390
>>4149398
>>4149478
>>4150295
>>4150331
>>4150651

“That's an awfully rehearsed speech for someone who believes what they're saying," you goad as you dash at him, but he ignores you, springing to the wall and kicking off to leap over your head. A rain of bombs descends around your position, and Polly’s signals are like lightning as she updates you on the traps’ relative position. You turn, blinded by a flash of light that makes your sensors protest, scrambling the navigator’s positional data. Your optics update quickly and you see Brightroar throwing additional bombs as he leaps from wall to wall. There’s an opening, if you could only… there. His jump is too close, and you rush into a leaping uppercut that catches him in midair.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_z3yLcVfsU

Can’t let him outpace you. You dash in, another blinding flash causing you to trip into a bomb, which erupts into white-hot flame, but now you’ve got him. Your hands on his head, you wrench - and as the light fades, you see his hateful eyes staring back at you as you feel a melting sensation in your abdomen. Kick him away, kick him away - your heavy foot lands, but you can see the hi-beam saber in his hand.

“Predictable,” he assesses coldly, as he rushes in with the saber. Now you’re on the defensive - THAT thing can get through your shields, and possibly do the kind of damage that would put you out of commission for longer than the Hunters can afford. The swings are wide but measured - it’s clear he’s not a swordsman, but the danger that blade represents is a useful goad to force you to go right where he wants you. Your sensors highlight bombs behind you as Polly does her best to keep you updated in real time. Can’t let him get away with that.

He’s no swordsman - and those swings ARE wide. The last one gives you a window, and you bring your fist down on his arm, causing him to jerk backwards quickly. Your other hand is there, though, and you have his arm in hand. Your right comes up to grab and crush the saber hilt - OW. You recoil, clutching the destroyed metal, wearing three molten gashes on your forearm from Brightroar’s magmatic claws.

The lion roars - and as he does, the bombs go off, filling your vision with flame even as the nearest ones catch you in their explosion. You lunge, but he’s lunging for you as well, an up-angled spin that lets him score you with the burning claws. The wall hits your back, and you check your status - you’re under 50%. Not good. Time for the big gun. You bring it to bear and fire the Tornado Comet - is that a better name? - for where you expect him to move, noting with satisfaction as it smashes him against the opposite wall. Your hand’s at your side, feeling the damage the beam saber wrought.
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Brightroar is whipping overhead again, going from wall to wall to distribute bombs. There’s an idea - you swing at the wall as he lands, a maximum-strength punch that causes it to crack and shakes him down, dropping him into your reach like a cat shaken loose from a tree. Your left hook takes him off to the side, and you dash after him to keep up the pressure. His claws come for you, but your arm is inside his swing and you bat it aside, jabbing at his abdomen, his face, anywhere you can think to land a punch.

BOOM. His own punch, loaded with explosive force, knocks you backward, allowing him space to disengage. Hurt, but not as much as he probably wanted it to - seems his little firebombs need time to prime for maximum effect. The two of you trade feints, jabbing without commitment, not wanting to give an inch, and a nagging worry that you’re losing momentum spurs you to make the next move. He shakes his mane as you dash at him, filling the room with blinding light. This time you’ve got the nearest bombs memorized, and when he roars and the explosions sound, you’re nowhere near them. Based on his movements…

“Predictable,” you taunt as your hand closes on his face. He didn’t expect you to anticipate him behind you and to your left, and you use your grip to pivot a brutal right cross into his chest. His claws scrape at your left arm, metal running down like burning blood, and you release him as he tries for a counter. His jump to the wall is ruined by you punching it, the tremor preventing him from securing purchase to do another aerial leap.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xs1XDGVN_qg

The wild slashing at your face reminds you that you need more than momentum - he’s in a spinning, frenzied upward leap that rips at your shields, and now he’s overhead and dropping bombs again. You pursue but he’s gotten to a wall, and when his mouth opens this time it’s not to trigger the explosions, but rather to bombard you with a wicked penetrating plasma attack erupting from his jaws, the air behind seeming to detonate and burn up as the blast heads your way. Pain - brutal, searing, humiliating, as you crash backwards, landing on one foot and a knee. They can still fix what he’s done to you so far, you reckon, but not if you let him do that again.

He’s overhead once more, and your uppercut misses, putting you badly out of position for the pouncing slash that follows. He disengages quickly, letting you roll to regain your footing as the bombs go off. Polly’s signals are trying to track his mobility, but neither you nor she can predict when he’ll elect to close to melee, betting on his white-hot claws against the Hunters’ best armor. The bombs are damaging sections of the floor, revealing cracks that hint at the terrible fate below.
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Dodge - run - avoid that damnable blast attack - you force these thoughts into your limbs as you propel yourself away from his onslaught and punch the wall to bring him down. You know how he retaliates now - the descending spin claw - and you lean back, letting him make the mistake, before clocking him across the room. A section of the floor breaks loose and drops into the abyss as you dash at him, narrowly avoiding a trip to the Red Sea.

The rifts in the floor are widening, and your weight is becoming a worry. You can’t let him keep doing that - this has to end. You jump carefully over the first gap and sidestep the next, noting that he’s avoiding the walls - heavily cracked from the battle. He’s keeping his distance, though, and you can see there’s a section of more stable wall to his left that Brightroar is already closing on.

“Give him a window,” Polly’s voice sounds in your comm. That’s right - he won’t engage when he thinks you can hit him, but…

You dash, stumbling on one of the floor gaps and putting out a hand to catch yourself. That’s all Brightroar needs - the spinning slash comes straight at you. His claws burn - but your hand catches his leg and you rip with all your might, tearing it out of position so that it dangles uselessly from broken and overextended cables. His eyes go wide as you grab his arm, standing over him, and punch him straight through what’s left of the floor.

Stepping back from the gap, you slump on the wall and slide down into a sit. You thought Eagle was rough - does X really think you can do this six more times? Armor bubbled, scored, melted; at least one skeletal crack; he even twisted your head crest, you note, surprised how much that bothers you.

It doesn't really matter if he believes it, he doesn't have a choice, does he? And neither do you. Sigma left a void in his wake, a hole you were purpose-built to fill, and you’ve seen the damage caused by that wrenching absence already. No one who fought Sigma's rebellion had the luxury of choice - it was do or die. Today, you did. And today, no more of your fellows will die.

Polly’s voice chimes in your ear. “Recovery team en route, Major. Looks like the last wave of PROs were untouched.” She pauses. “So that’s a win.”

“Polis, is this your way of telling me to lie back and think of England?” you grunt as you shift your weight away from the stab wound. “Bit forward of you, no?”

“Oh no, the recovery team was diverted away from your location. Reports of unacceptable levels of backtalk,” she deadpans. You chuckle, nodding to yourself. Today, you made a difference.

“Major?” calls Polly. “Still with me?” It’s been some minutes, you realize. You nod once more, just for you, and comm back.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rpf-fU2xAeE

“Still here. Who’s next?”
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And that's our thread! I know we didn't get to all the story segments, but we'll resume and conclude our tour through time next thread. Hope everyone enjoyed this segue.
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>>4150855
It was fun! looking forward to the next thread when you guys are ready to run it, which is hopefully sooner rather than later. Here's hoping for the best in light of current events.
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>>4150855
cheers! Valvidieso was my favorite, followed by India
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>>4150816
>memories of X3 bosses resurface
YEAH, How do YOU like those shaking walls, Mavericks?

>>4150855
>>4150899
I still kind of wish Schwarz's segment got chosen first. Biggest impact, deserved the spotlight.
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>>4150855
Great stuff CL. Looking forward to the next one. Stay safe out there.
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>>4150855
Thanks for Running CL
Stay safe and wash your hands
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>>4150855
I definitely did! Thanks for hosting!
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>>4150855
It was pretty great. Rhodes kind of reminds me of a more grounded, more powerful Anode in this light. I hope Polis is still around to give him the business.
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>>4150855
...By the way, what did he end up calling it?
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Work on the new thread is going as we speak. Which reminds me, I'm going to toss little nudges here and in the next one--if you get a moment, don't forget to upvote MHQ threads in the archive!

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Maverick%20Hunter%20Quest
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>>4151362
And here's our new thread! >>4151398
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Thread off life support, post dumb filenames
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>>4151572
Ooh, can I come?
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>>4151601
ask your dom
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