It would appear the enemy pilot wouldn't give up, this wasn't unexpected, after all she was used to the pleas of men and women; their mouths moving as one to vomit out all the things that made up their lives. Families, loved ones, dogs, cats, lovers, girlfriends, boyfriends, money, fame, glory; all things Nomine had long grown numb to. If anything, the only real use for this little dog-fight was that it allowed her to see the flaws and future improvements she could obtain for the U1. Better shields, for sure, and something fully automatic and fast to make up for the powerful weapons that could be brought to bear and mounted. Ballistic or energy. Whatever she chose, it would have to be integrated directly into the chassis to allow a variable load-out as taking it apart just to slap a gun on would take far too much time.
It was odd, really, since she knew by the pilot's open transmission that there was hesitation in his actions; but clearly they weren't the same as whatever he was feeling as could be shown by the fact she had been hit several times in the past few minutes. Had it been a few minutes? It felt like forever to her as she eyed the space above, the indicator showing they had reached an altitude of approximately forty-six thousand eight-hundred and twelve kilometers. She wasn't sure how much further she had to go but judging by how much more she had to slow and control her breathing, Nomine assumed they were in Vice's stratosphere and were fast approaching it's mesosphere.
Again, she spun the U1 around towards the left, the friction threatening to tear the fragile little thing apart as the wings and intake valves shuddered. Bracing herself against the cushion of the cockpit seat, she pulled one hand away from the throttle and gripped the buckles snapped tightly between her chest; holding on as the fighter began the four-second transition into it's mecha form. The legs shot out, pushing the U1 back down towards Vice, this caused the buckles to strain; digging into her suit and nearly breaching the material as her body suffered through seven-g's throughout the process. If it weren't for the fact her eyes were cybernetic, they most likely would have burst from the pressure.
The rifle came up, a round already pre-loaded with a round, and as she passed by and underneath her counter-part, it was raised and aimed towards it's general direction; a few milliseconds of lead to compensate for movement.
Click.
Thunk.
And then she transitioned again, the U1's legs nearly buckling as it struggled to simultaneously maintain it's altitude and go back to it's intended position in fighter mode, but it held together and that was enough for Nomine as she blasted off the opposite direction at full speed. She had lost a few thousand kilometers doing that and now she would have to make up for it.
Again. Her enhanced body was repairing what it could, and her chest hurt from where the buckles pressed in. A rib must have snapped too because it was registering on her senses. If it weren't for the helmet around her head she would have spit the blood gathered up in her mouth out, but because it was on, she swallowed it down and licked her lips clean of the speckles. Nomine didn't need an obstruction when the only thing keeping her from passing out was this enclosed environmental combat suit.
Counter-measures, that's it. She needed those too. And some missiles. Perhaps even a weapon for close-quarters.