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"Suppressing fire!" Mike confirmed, switching weapons to her pistol to start hammering rounds downrange. It was a standoff weapon, barely worth the weight of carrying it. But it was semiautomatic and could be used to pop potshots at any form approaching or too close to Morris and Tacho. "You're gonna be okay, Tacho. You're coming home. Even if I don't. Just like Morris, I promise, okay, just wake up for me, beauty!"
With that, she emptied her pistol and let off a battlecry, sweeping the shotgun off her hip and leaping down the ridge to slide with hip and boot into the fray, loosing her first shots at whatever she slid past to make herself a more valuable target as she screamed in Trade. "I killed your driver, come get me, bitches!"
And come they did, whether gunning for Morris and Tacho or responding to her challenge, one took a shot in the pelvis from a slug, caving armor and rupturing organs before the bones simply shattered and the ruined waste system pouring septic slime into her rebreathers for her to drown in. The second caught a blast to the helmet, shattering faceplate and shattering skull as Michelle slid past. As she slowed, Mike burst to her feet, ramming the slide home to dive into the enemy's cover and punch through the soft spot below a Neko's breastplate with her bayonet before pulling the trigger. Number three was standing behind her friend as Michelle dropped her elbows and fired again, crushing neck seals and throat with a spray of viscera. Four and five were opportunity kills as Michelle let out a roar of challenge and sprinted for the downed truck.
Number six, though. Six took Mike's second to last round in the breastplate, breaking ribs but ultimately saving her before Michelle hit her like a freight train, an expert hand finding and ripping at the helmet release, intent on beating this woman to death with her own helmet. She somehow hoped Revjak was watching her helmet camera feed and finally understood her savagery. She recognized where this woman had been standing. And laid claim to this as her kill, her vengeance for Tacho's injuries.
Michelle Andrake loved the good fight. But she loved her work more. She loved a long night in Hydroponics, growing sweet fruits to feed the children, or barley for beer. Praying that Tacho or anyone's travels would bring her a pollenating, honey producing insect to make mead and boost her yields. She loved tending to the game birds she had long used for pest control, and her little corner of the bay was a paradise of food and greenery. She hated this side of herself, and preferred the quiet and clean joy of a sniping kill. The pause between breaths, the pull between heartbeats, the tiniest movement making the difference between a hit and a miss. The ability and power in her hands and mind to kill any threat on the battlefield with one clean shot and expert placement. That, to her, was more satisfying than this carnal blood rage and vengeance. More honorable. Not that the Iron Company cares about honor. Mike preferred a fair hunt. Not this. But this was necessary.
Maybe if she survived this, maybe while Tacho was recovering, she could take off duty and tend her fields, return to her roots, and be just another farm girl for a bit with a hammock between aeroponic stacks. Most of all, through all the firefights and all the chaos, she loved her team. Auli'i, Morris, and now Tacho. So she would give her life to ensure the safety of any one of them. She had a promise to keep, after all. Unspoken and unspeakable, but still the only oath that truly bound her. Freya's husband and the father of her child would come home. Even if Mike didn't. She hadn't declined our of care for the scarce dregs of her people. But for the love of a man who she could never claim, and his wife's happiness.
With that, she emptied her pistol and let off a battlecry, sweeping the shotgun off her hip and leaping down the ridge to slide with hip and boot into the fray, loosing her first shots at whatever she slid past to make herself a more valuable target as she screamed in Trade. "I killed your driver, come get me, bitches!"
And come they did, whether gunning for Morris and Tacho or responding to her challenge, one took a shot in the pelvis from a slug, caving armor and rupturing organs before the bones simply shattered and the ruined waste system pouring septic slime into her rebreathers for her to drown in. The second caught a blast to the helmet, shattering faceplate and shattering skull as Michelle slid past. As she slowed, Mike burst to her feet, ramming the slide home to dive into the enemy's cover and punch through the soft spot below a Neko's breastplate with her bayonet before pulling the trigger. Number three was standing behind her friend as Michelle dropped her elbows and fired again, crushing neck seals and throat with a spray of viscera. Four and five were opportunity kills as Michelle let out a roar of challenge and sprinted for the downed truck.
Number six, though. Six took Mike's second to last round in the breastplate, breaking ribs but ultimately saving her before Michelle hit her like a freight train, an expert hand finding and ripping at the helmet release, intent on beating this woman to death with her own helmet. She somehow hoped Revjak was watching her helmet camera feed and finally understood her savagery. She recognized where this woman had been standing. And laid claim to this as her kill, her vengeance for Tacho's injuries.
Michelle Andrake loved the good fight. But she loved her work more. She loved a long night in Hydroponics, growing sweet fruits to feed the children, or barley for beer. Praying that Tacho or anyone's travels would bring her a pollenating, honey producing insect to make mead and boost her yields. She loved tending to the game birds she had long used for pest control, and her little corner of the bay was a paradise of food and greenery. She hated this side of herself, and preferred the quiet and clean joy of a sniping kill. The pause between breaths, the pull between heartbeats, the tiniest movement making the difference between a hit and a miss. The ability and power in her hands and mind to kill any threat on the battlefield with one clean shot and expert placement. That, to her, was more satisfying than this carnal blood rage and vengeance. More honorable. Not that the Iron Company cares about honor. Mike preferred a fair hunt. Not this. But this was necessary.
Maybe if she survived this, maybe while Tacho was recovering, she could take off duty and tend her fields, return to her roots, and be just another farm girl for a bit with a hammock between aeroponic stacks. Most of all, through all the firefights and all the chaos, she loved her team. Auli'i, Morris, and now Tacho. So she would give her life to ensure the safety of any one of them. She had a promise to keep, after all. Unspoken and unspeakable, but still the only oath that truly bound her. Freya's husband and the father of her child would come home. Even if Mike didn't. She hadn't declined our of care for the scarce dregs of her people. But for the love of a man who she could never claim, and his wife's happiness.
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