Thesson wrote:I just hope NightOwl survives this.
Wait is Demoman dead? Or severely injured?
Colette wrote:Instead, they hit a mass of mechanical, unfeeling Mass-Produced Frigates. If Briktoid’s IR337l could laugh, it would have.
Bereft of using her main weapon, Admiral Payton became a little distraught.
“Go ahead with a good ol’ fashioned 1800’s broadside on these TA bastards.” she ordered.
And so they did, wiping out a few hundred Mass-Produced Frigates. They were simply replaced by some extras hiding in the back of the group.
“What kind of a space battle is this!?” bitterly lamented an Assyrian gunner down below. “These invincible, unkillable littles shites! They bring in a force somewhat close to one hundred times the size of ours! And most of it is cheap cannon fodder. Let the Great Triangle damn the Third Alliance, then Briktoid, then Akkadia. And RIN and Trattoria while we’re at it too!”
Colette wrote:The interior of the TURD was cramped, lacking in creature comforts, and all-around, utilitarian.
At least, that was what the enigmatic Commander NightOwl noted. He was at the helm of his own personal TURD, leading a force of Geraldden mercenaries.
“Alright boys, we’re making landfall soon. We’re already in atmospheric descent. Be prepared to shoot the moment you get off.”
The mercenaries nodded grimly- the lure of riches and women had attracted them to the offer, but they soon realized even their entire mercenary company couldn’t hold a candle to the forces they were facing in a war they were thrown into. They were fighting in the biggest city of the country that spends more than almost the rest of the brik-verse combined on military expenditures.
Soon, the TURD crashed through some skyscraper or other, with a loud crunch of metal and brick underneath. The access doors opened, and immediately the first few Geralddens were blown away by a tank shell. An Assyrian Artemis light tank, now painted bad with a black AN logo on its turret, was reloading and preparing to fire another shot.
Colette wrote:They wandered through this sector of the city, looking for any sort of landmark towards the AN Headquarters. All they found were helpless civilians, their homes and family destroyed, and the never-ending armies of the Briktoid Automata, tricked into believing this was some urban map on Planetside. Off in the distance, he could see the heads of RIN Omega Dooms leveling the city. Commander NightOwl reflected upon the misery they were inflicting- what had these people done to deserve this nonsense?- but regardless, ordered them to attack any American or AN troops and tanks. Soon, USA Commissioner hovertanks began to roll in, demolishing indiscriminately buildings and enemy. NightOwl took up a minigun from a fallen comrade, and sprayed wildly with reckless abandon. What time was there for philosophy now? His mercs fought with all their effort just not to be driven to extinction. All that mattered now was blood, and explosions.
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