Missiles.
Nomine thought to herself as she eyed the oncoming dots, there were so many of them she couldn't count, but she assumed there were at the very least a couple dozen in that field of red. She was pretty sure their yield wasn't much more then a standard Yamataian capital ship's knife-fight rocket batteries, else the rickety piece of machinery she was in would have fell apart from the first volley fired at her from before. Again, the annoyingly familiar voice transmitted to her, but again she had blocked it out; more so out of necessity then for any real specific reason. Her instruments were being extremely vocal after all and the ears on either side of her head were devoted entirely to the beeping of the proximity alert, slow rhythmic pulses to rapid pips. Longer stays between the blips denoted the distance, increasing in velocity and volume as whatever the radar detected came closer and closer to hitting.
The girl's eyes maintained their focus on the horizon, blood that she couldn't swallow in time bubbling past the corners of her mouth in tiny trickles, staining her snow-white complexion as speckles flew up towards her face. The U1's engines, flared blue and purple, suddenly closed off, it's flaps opening up briefly as it's air-brakes activated, slowing it down so suddenly that it seemed the missiles would find their target. All of them vying for the sweet spots that had been pointed out. It was like a video game, an almost laughable hyper-realistic version of one, as Nomine pushed the throttle back up and flipped the flaps back down; a maneuver in the cockpit that required all of two seconds, banking the U1 hard towards the left. The streaking contrails by-passed her, but again, the bubble shield was imperfect and several found their mark, brushing ever so gently against the energy field that their subsequent contact and explosions caused a chain reaction.
The remaining missiles were either knocked off-target and detonated prematurely or confused by the sudden burst of heat, particles, and smoke. Above the skies in Vice, where no human eye could see, was a black cloud that stretched half a mile wide; debris and parts falling down to the earth below as remnants. From above the cloud appeared a plume, moving fast and briefly obscured by the field as it flew upwards at an angle, the winds buffeting it blasted away the smoke, soon revealing it to be a relatively intact U1. Though one couldn't say the same for the pilot.
She had time now to properly process the voice, the machine, and why they were so keen on "not harming" her. Nomine entertained the idea of taking the helmet off but thought better of it as she saw how fast she was climbing. Instead, she took her hands off the controls and let the U1 fly unattended, sat back in the crappy leather seat, and exhaled; slowly, her breath clouding up the interior of the helmet.
....
.......
...........
"Then stop shooting at me. And let me go, Alex."
