Soresu
Well-Known Member
Yuriko's Hostile hadn't moved much once it had settled in the truck bed. She'd placed the improvised paint bomb out in front of her, allowing anyone around to grab it if they so chose and decided to take the time to close her eyes. Rest them for a couple minutes.
When the crackle of a communications channel caused one of her eyes to open. The Power Armor sat itself up into a more 'seated' position, Monoeye fixed on the path behind them. She checked the chronometer, ten minutes. She'd only managed to nap for ten minutes. But it helped if only a little.
"If a man deliberates whether he is to fight, when he has the power in his own hands, it is certain that his opinion is against fighting." The Monoeye brightened, the lense focusing and unfocusing rapidly several times.
"I've been fighting constantly near eighteen hours now with no real sleep, one ration in me, and no stimulants to speak of thanks to none being loaded in my suit before landfall. Add to that, that I took an almost point blank miniature fusion reactor detonation in the face plate and I'm in no shape to lead. Mentally and physically tired, the spirit is willing, but I know my limits. And I won't lead when I could potentially give an order that could kill us while I'm like this.
The best I can do right now is offer advice and plant my boot up the ass of the next unlucky son of a bitch who happens to point a gun my way and are lucky to have furry ears or tentacles."
The Monoeye began to track Bernhard's suit now.
"Old Vanderhuge is a pureblood ID-SOL, Greer. They're trained in ground warfare while in the tank, and from the moment they leave the tank. I'm the ranking Marine, but he's the ranking man out of all of us. Even if I was fit to lead I doubt he, or De Luca'd let me. They don't seem like the types that'd give up command easily."
"Your suggestion and observation are noted, Private. I won't mention the latter to him, but I suggest the next opportunity we get to snag some sort of rest. Take it."
When the crackle of a communications channel caused one of her eyes to open. The Power Armor sat itself up into a more 'seated' position, Monoeye fixed on the path behind them. She checked the chronometer, ten minutes. She'd only managed to nap for ten minutes. But it helped if only a little.
"If a man deliberates whether he is to fight, when he has the power in his own hands, it is certain that his opinion is against fighting." The Monoeye brightened, the lense focusing and unfocusing rapidly several times.
"I've been fighting constantly near eighteen hours now with no real sleep, one ration in me, and no stimulants to speak of thanks to none being loaded in my suit before landfall. Add to that, that I took an almost point blank miniature fusion reactor detonation in the face plate and I'm in no shape to lead. Mentally and physically tired, the spirit is willing, but I know my limits. And I won't lead when I could potentially give an order that could kill us while I'm like this.
The best I can do right now is offer advice and plant my boot up the ass of the next unlucky son of a bitch who happens to point a gun my way and are lucky to have furry ears or tentacles."
The Monoeye began to track Bernhard's suit now.
"Old Vanderhuge is a pureblood ID-SOL, Greer. They're trained in ground warfare while in the tank, and from the moment they leave the tank. I'm the ranking Marine, but he's the ranking man out of all of us. Even if I was fit to lead I doubt he, or De Luca'd let me. They don't seem like the types that'd give up command easily."
"Your suggestion and observation are noted, Private. I won't mention the latter to him, but I suggest the next opportunity we get to snag some sort of rest. Take it."