RP: NSS Sledge Mama [NSS Sledge Mama] Ep. 3 - Into Steel

"I'll show these two assholes 'tough kill'!" Terrence yelled in anger, clearly angered by the unmerciful ways of the war machines. When Ylfa had opened the door to allow the sounds of autocannon fire to enter the room, Terrence had rushed to the door with revolver in hand. While Ylfa had been struggling to close the door, he had been firing shots off warning shots to make the war machine think twice about bum-rushing the door, but a revolver probably isn't much of an upgrade from YSA energy weapons, even if it is Nepsleslian. He leaned away from the door when the autocannon penetrated the door, shielding his face with his arm. With this "subtle" encouragement, the colonist retreated to a more favorable position behind his own chair. Terrence set the handle of the revolver down against the chair to act as a stabilizer and increase accuracy. He already knew that he was going to be aiming for the leg. If they took it out they might be able to bum-rush it and pop it's head like a fucking grape. "Fuck those guys and their creators."

Rachael, who had her head peeking outside the door paused a moment and quickly pulled back and stepped back as she noticed the War Machine, and more specifically all the dead people. She jumped back and raised her pistol to eye level. It didn't take her long to register what Ylfa was saying, She quickly moved behind one of the virtual reality pods and pointed her gun around the corner and waiting, once the door was peeled in enough, she closed a single eye to aim more steadily and took a breath to ease the shaking of her arm, the first thing she was aiming for? A shot on the belt of bullets connecting to its rifle, hoping to disable it from shooting, if that thing shot through the door like it was nothing, nothing in that room wasn't going to protect them.

Richard had expected the door to open revealing several nekos running around in a panic because their cupcakes were burning or something, and that they had sounded the "bad cooking alarm". Maybe that was a horrible exaggeration of the attitude of the Yamataian Star Army, but exaggeration or not, he did not expect the bloodbath that he did see when the door opened. His reflexes wanted to cause him to throw up, but as quickly as he realized how gruesome the situation was, he realized how dangerous it was, forcing himself to hold back his reflexive display of disgust. He needed to keep his eyes forward to watch what was happening.

Seeing that the door did not close right away and that there were two militant robots approaching, he moved for the sturdiest cover that he could find, pulling his HHG from it's holster. He wished he could help the woman in the hall by herself, but there was nothing he could do that would do more than just add to the death toll and he could only stay where he was. Once the machine forced it's way through the door and into the room the first thing Richard carefully aimed for was the 'face' of the machine. The glowing eye was probably for optical input, at least he hoped, it'd be better to take out it's sight if possible than waste bullets pelting away at it.

Mark lept back as the door was shredded and was pushed through by the militant. He followed Terrence as he scrambled back, albeit a little calmer than him and crouched behind him to use his body as a meat shield. Setting his arm against Terrence's shoulder to stabilize his shots, he fired at the militant's eye. His armored jacket and his meat shield wouldn't be enough to protect him but blinding the bitch might make him live longer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Max throwing a bit of chair at the militant and an idea formed. "Hold on tight, it's going to be one helluva ride," he said, lifting Terrence in the air and throwing him at the militant with all his might.

Max rolled behind his chair as the rounds shredded the door. "Oh Hell No! You're not taking me down that easy!" Max knew that shooting the war machine with his pistol wouldn't be super effective but he figured that these chairs would make a solid battering ram. Max ripped off the head piece of the chair and quickly chucked it at the offending machine before diving behind cover and drawing his pistol to fire on the machine. He hoped to exploit a weak spot

Metal moaned and screeched as it was physically torn apart, the upper half being pushed and rolled into the room before the machine began kicking the metal sliding door out of its frame.

"Get back further! Further!" Ylfa yelled, urging them on. The squad took position deeper into the room to the left, so that when it finally came free, they wouldn't immediately see the enemy contact, and it would have to walk into their lines of fire. The half-inch thick piece of durandium crumpled inwards and flew in from the left with a heavy clang, silence quickly following behind the abrupt noise. Bathed in the red emergency lights of the base, its thumping footsteps announced its arrival as the Militant came into full view of the squad. Just as Ylfa said, it was damaged. But it was more than they imagined. Parts of its armor still glowed fiery orange as it mechanically turned to level its arm at them!

Already, Mayumi was up and on her feet. With inhuman agility, she easily went into a dead sprint, her feet bounding from the top of one chair to the next, forcing the Militant to track her like a skeet!

As everyone opened fire at once, the chair's head that Max sent flying struck the war machine, its autocannon blasts missing the Nekovalkyrja by just a few inches. A few choice rounds from Rachael sliced through its belt of ammunition the next moment on the third shot. Realizing the gun was clicking dry as it aimed at Mayumi, it calmly reached back and smoothly pulled out a new length without a care in the world, the rounds clinking in its metallic hands. Its balance shifted as bullets thunked into its semi-molten leg as Terrance fired, but the rounds Richard sent smacking into its head sent static washing across its vision as it attempted to reload. But it wasn't until he flew through the air that things got choppy.

Even though Mark was an ID-SOL, he could only chuck the flailing marine so far.

Landing at the Militant's feet, it immediately stopped reloading and made to stomp Terrance to death, its hulking metal form lunging after the young marine!

Rachael narrowed her eyes, god damnit Mark, God damnit Terrance, She aimed and closed one eye before slowly opening it, the target she was aiming at was the hydraulics in the leg firing off a rapid burst of bullets, she intended for one to snap the hydraulics of the leg so that it could no longer move it correctly.

"Wai-, what the FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?" Terrence's question quickly changed to a yell as he was hoisted up a second time, only this time he was thrown more like a Javelin than hung up by his britches. When he landed, he looked up at the incoming foot. "Really?" He thought sardonically as he rolled out of the way of the incoming foot. "I..." He quickly hooked his arm around the Militant's leg and fired his revolver into the rear of the knee. "Am not!..." With the force of the revolver rounds hitting it's leg, the young marine capitalized on his new found advantage and pulled off some Newtonian shit as he launched himself into the Militant's lower body. "A PIECE OF FUCKING EQUIPMENT!!!" Terrence intended on knocking this guy over, getting on top of him, and shoving his revolver so far down this robot's throat, his creators were going to feel it! Hell, the bullet was going to wink at 'em!

"Well that didn't go as I expected." Mark was torn on what to do. On one hand he did throw the marine and get him into his predicament but on the other hand he probably had it covered and didn't need his help and he could focus on more important things. In the end, he decided to focus his fire on the joint of the militants arm that had the cannon. Maybe they could figure out a way to use the scraps of this one against his friend.

"God damn it, fuck," Wulfe blurted, wiping a dribble of spittle from the corner of his mouth after the sudden interruption from the simulation. The marine was already raising his .357 pistol at the automaton, even though it wouldn't hold a prayer against the enemy, but he wasn't about to go out without a fight. His finger started to squeeze the trigger when he saw one of the marines throw someone at the enemy which they were all firing upon. 'God damn boots,' he thought, watching as the other marine sailed in an almost neat arc towards the feet of the automaton.

Wulfe squeeze the trigger and started to fire at the automaton, adding his firepower in targeting the joints on its cannon arm to at least disable it before it turned the gathered units into confetti.

Richard's next target would've been the militant's legs but just as he was about to fire he saw Terrance go flying past and land in front of the robot. "What the hell!? Why are you getting close to it!?" He couldn't fire at the leg now that Terrance was grabbing hold of it. So he moved his focus up. He only had so many bullets before he had to reload so he chose to spend these on it's head, not jsut anywhere though, he aimed for the right side, unloading his cylinder into the area that had already been hit, or trying to at least.

Aiming down the sights of her gun, Rachael took aim at the war machine's damaged limb, only to take her finger off the trigger as Terrance dove into the Militant. The moment he fired his revolver into the back of its knee, the arm he had hooked around its limb was suddenly peppered with metal fragments as his bullet shattered, the gun in hand clattering to the floor in shock. The floor thumped as the Militant was briefly forced down to one knee by the damage, but it didn't hesitate for a second. The relentless machine's cold, lifeless metal hand lunged out and grabbed him by the closest part of the young man. Crushing Terrance's bad forearm under it's skeletal grip as it rose up, it deliberately used him to block any incoming fire. The Marine dangled helplessly in front of the Militant as it stood, quickly drawing back a fist to finish him off in a gory punch.

Bits of flesh tore away as sparks flew - Ylfa punched it square in the face!

With all of her weight put into that blow, skin simply ripped off her fist as it stumbled back, it's bad leg unable to keep up. Grabbing Terrance by the collar, she threw him behind her and leaped back, just as the Militant recovered. "SHOOT, SHOOT, SHOOT!" she yelled, reaching into the small of her back and tossing Terrance her spare gun. Sparks flew as shots rang out again, Rachael finally managing to slam hot lead into the bad leg, cherry red hydraulic fluid spraying out and catching fire. Losing pressure, it began to slow down. Turning its torso away from Wulf and Mark's shots glancing off of its autocannon arm, the machine methodically reached for the belt of ammo again, only for Ylfa to sever it with a well placed shot from her HHG.

Richard fired again, his carefully placed shots cracking the damaged head and sending it crashing down onto all fours as it fought to recover.

Terrence found himself on his ass real quick. The bright side was that said ass wasn't going through his head, so that was a plus. Otherwise, his shooting arm was Foxtrot Uniform and his revolver was taken out of action for the moment... The latter pissed him off! That was his personal fire-arm, dammit! Anyhow, he managed to catch Ylfa's spare pistol and wield it with his left hand. He damn well wasn't ambidextrous but right now he didn't have the luxury of using his right arm. He didn't bother getting up, he just focused on pulling the trigger of the Little Killer on what would be a good enough shot for his weaker shooting arm... This just so happened to be it's entire frame. Terrence isn't a very picky person by nature, what more can I say?

Richard finished off his cylinder and quickly unloaded the casings, pulling out a moon clip and loading it into the HHG and securing it. Hitting the head seemed to be causing significant damage to the thing, or at least keeping it from acting for a bit after receiving a shot. "It looks like it's getting an error or something. Maybe we can make it crash and then escape, without having to shoot till it's destroyed." He started firing once again, focusing more on accuracy than speed, aiming for the chips and cracks in the head armor, wanting to open it up for a good shot.

Mark watched the militant about to murder Terrence before having to stop himself from shitting his pants due to the pure awesome that happened when Ylfa punched it in the face. Seeing the thing go down, he ejected his mostly spent mag that contained three bullets left and tucked it into his boot. He slammed in a fresh mag, chambered a round and moved his head from side to side sweeping the area.

The .357 pistol's slide stood locked back, with the barrel still smoking after firing the last shot as Wulfe stared at the Militant try to prop itself up. He knew that it wouldn't be doing so again. The fact that the sergeant hadn't gotten shot nor Terrence was a small miracle in itself, and made the marine sigh in satisfaction that someone's stupidity hadn't gotten one of his squadmates killed.

"Boot, you alright?" the marine asked, letting the spent magazine drop to the ground as he reached for another one on his belt. The slide of his pistol snapped back, loading a new round into the chamber as Wulfe started walking away from the cluster of marines and checking the rest of the room for any more contacts, the pistol kept at the ready. He cut around the corner with precision, looking down into the halway from where the militant had come from to see if anything else decided to come that way.

Rachael looked more than annoyed at Terrance's idiotic show of bravado trying to overpower a god damn machine. She held her fire when the thing picked Terrance up, twitching a bit, before she saw Ylfa punch the damn thing. She was about ready to shoot through Terrance to get to the thing, but when ordered to fire, she fired. This time aiming for the leg once -more- to stop its movements. "I swear to fucking god Mark, and Terrance...when we get out of this I'm going to shoot you both." She growled animalistically.

"Guh." Terrence replied as he laid back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "I'm fine. Just lucky is all." He could hear the Militant scraping along on the ground, so he stood up so it wouldn't choke him out. "Thanks for askin', brother." He walked over to where his revolver lied. Plural may or may not have been more appropriate, considering its condition. This disheartened Terrence, that revolver had been with him through a lot. He reached down and picked up the currently useless weapon. "Don't worry buddy, I'll get you out of this and find you someone who can fix you." The young man said to it, before placing it in his bodysuit. He quickly followed after Wulfe, stacking up on him as the (mostly) Nepsleslian group consolidated their position.

Their gunfire quickly petered down as the Militant struggled to rise. Sparks flew as powerful rounds slammed into the damaged head case as Mark and Richard carefully took their shots, while the "Pew, Pew, Pew!" of the backup pistol in Terrance's hand quickly followed up. Pieces of tungsten alloy showered the floor as it shattered, the electronics inside biting a bullet as all four hundred pounds went limp and struck the floor with a resounding thud. Despite this, the machine was still twitching, a hand opening and closing in a futile attempt to grab at a sharp piece of its own chassis for use as a shiv.

As Kelly came up to it and peered down at the militant, Mayumi was already coming up on Terrance's side. "Y-you're not alright," the blue eyed Neko observed, gently reaching out to grab his hand. "He's got copper and lead fragments peppering his hand like birdshot," she added, tossing back a few stray strands of black hair. "Does anyone have something I can use as a ban - " The sound of tearing cloth answered her question. Emi ripped into the black skirt of her business casual attire and idly tossed the length to the Star Army Neko without a word. As Mayumi took the length and patched up the young man, the green eyed Neko didn't seem to give a single care that she was showing a lot more leg.

Meanwhile, Ylfa checked how much ammo she had left and sighed. "Wulfe, we're running short on ammo. What do you see out of the door?" she asked him. The two women that were gunned down were still there, but did they have their weapons on them? And how many more were laying in the hallway? He could still hear autocannon fire sporadically ring out, followed by the distinct blast of energy weapons. "It'll be the Neko-Pistols we need the most since they got an anti-armor mode," the Sergeant told him, turning her back to the squad as she looked at her hand. It was a little hard to tell, but she seemed to be bothered by it. "We need to regroup with the other marines and get out of here, but I'm still just getting junk." When Rachael snarled at Mark and Terrance however, Emi was the one to quickly reply to her.

"A bit much, but I got dibs on Mark." Bright green eyes locked on his with the intensity of a sniper getting the marine in her sights. Before he knew it however, her fast walk had brought her close as stars exploded in his vision. The young man collapsed on the floor in the fetal position as he clutched his balls. "Get up. It was just a tap." She stood over him, crossing her arms. Before more could be said however, another gunshot suddenly rang out in their room, quickly drawing the Neko's attention. Kelly had put another round into the Militant's head.

"F-F-F-RRREEEEEEENDLY FIII-I-IRE," its speakers sputtered. She simply put one last round into its head, silencing the machine.

"Take another breath Marines," Ylfa addressed them all, her voice commanding. "After that, we're moving out. Put priority on staying out of sight and scavenging for more weapons and ammo. We want to get out, not pick more fights."

"Boot, you're no good to me right now," Wulfe said flatly to Terrence; there wasn't any trace of condescention to it, only the stoic practicality that the IPG training had implanted in him and the knowledge that an injured marine was less combat capable than one that wasn't. Before he could do anything else, however, the nekos were tending to the wounded marine, his eyes still scanning the open space in front of him and occasionally each side of the hallway intersecting it. God damn. He briefly glanced behind once Ylfa had spoken out, however. "Dead cats, sergeant, and an exit door straight ahead. I'll check the bodies for weapons," he quickly answered, at least it wasn't real people that had been killed.

He wouldn't wade into an intersection by himself, though. It would be suicide.

Looking behind to see which marines were the closest to him. "Kelly, I got middle, you get right. Someone else get left," he said, waiting for the Freespacer and someone else to stack up behind him. Once that was done, Wulfe started moving. "Push, push pushpushpushpushpushpush," the marine said, between the staccato autocannon fire, taking a pace that was somewhere between walking fast and jogging, keeping the .357 pistol at where he looked, panning it left, right, down and sometimes up as he advanced towards the first body.

He crouched besides the first corpse, still keeping the pistol raised and pointing down the halway with his right hand, while his left patted it to find the guns he looked for.