Post by rantinan on Feb 4, 2006 4:22:32 GMT -5
Wow it only took 4 months to crank out a chapter this time. Slowest non AU fic EVER
Standard disclaimer: I Don’t own zoids, yadita ya. Sanders is cool, there should be more fics with sanders in them. if you’re stupid enough to steel my characters, I hope you like typing in the babble Smythe speaks. Yuck.
Authors note. The character of MC Smythe was created some months ago for the purposes of annoying a role play board full of garry stu characters. He insisted on having a place in one of my fics, so here it is. BE afraid, BE very afraid.
The battle was over, the winner was no one
But for once, I hadn’t actually injured myself. This was a significant step up for me. And even better, the lord gale was mostly battered into components. I don’t know what sort of ancient genius came up with the blox system, but it’s tailor made for hopeless incompetents… like me.
3 hours with the equipment in the belly of the whale king, and it was back in action. With a computer system that was a lot less cocky sounding
“we got out asses kicked” It printed up on the secondary monitor.
“Damned straight.” I muttered at the computer. “We were anticipating he’d be up in the air, and he surprised the pants off us.”
“I think I need to re-evaluate my combat priorities. Destruction is less important than disabling. We need to win, not to leave blood smeared wreckage in our path.”
“Agreed”
I was bruised, I was tired. A tumble form the sky and then a 3 hour repair job had exhausted me, and the lord gale’s cockpit was as comfortable if not more so than my berth. I tipped my head back, ready for a hard earned nap.
Sanders walked in to the hanger at this point, and bellowed incomprehensibly at me.
He then nimbly dodged the wrench I threw at him, the bastard.
“Get up lazy bones, you still have a battle today.”
“Say what”
“A fan of that oldtimer has challenged you, he’s got no ranking at all, so he’s put his zoids up as prizes. A vintage kingliger, a flyscissors and a busted up diploguns. The battle offer is only good right now though, so if you want that bug you better move.”
Adrenaline shot through me, but then the gale helpfully brought up a schematic of kingliger. God almighty.
Fast, faster than I was on land. 4 energy blades on it’s head would make it the very devil to take in close combat, and 4 e-shield generators meant that my vulcans would count or didldy squat, while it’s vulcans would rip me up. A 3d radar system that was designed from the outset for anti air work.
“I’m not fighting that *Watch your language!*, there’s no *Watch your language!* way!” I screamed. “For once I have all my bones intact after a fight, this thing will shread me like a bacon slicer through butter!”
Sanders actually smiled at me this time.
“Two things. First the challenger has offered the diploguns simply for accepting the challenge. and while it’s power and stealth systems are shot the rail gun works just fine. Second he is more of an amateur than you are. watch this.”
He sailed a disk into the cockpit, and I slotted it into the computer.
It began to play. A 15 year old boy, by my best estimate, wearing at least 3 kilos of artificial junk jewelry around his neck a t-shirt that read strangely enough “suku my cook” and a backwards hat.
“Dudez you wack my pa, I gonna get funky on yo ass digit! For shizzle you be goin down now homes, respect! I smack your ass nick nack paddwack. you gonna cop a cap o 9mm intween your eyes fosho. You take me out, you keep my ride I swear. but you never do. My ride be pimpin mad ya digit? my liger be phatter than your mouldy gale ever be. I take you downtown, less you chicken or somthin. Come on foo, you ready to get wiggy with the jiggy?”
“The *Watch your language!*?”
“He’s a local trouble boy. You know the sort, Pure human helic trash, but wishes he was a nyxian zoidarian. Reckons he’s the next olde dirty lider or MC Panzer. He’s quite sincere in that challenge . You could realy use the parts, and the kingliger is an amazing zoid in and of its self. You’d go from being a liability to this team to an asset in one battle. Thers one problem though, he wants battle mode 999. That’s anything goes, and I do mean anything. He’s mad and he wants to kill you, so watch your ass out there.”
I guess I thaught about it for 2.3 seconds before the gale printed up on the screen, “lets do this, I can crack those shields with a railgun. Anyone who mangles language like that does not deserve to have any zoid, not even a gator! ”
“I guess we’re in” I told Sanders.
10 minutes later the railgun was mounted above and behind the lances. I kicked off the launch ramp and into the air. The ZBC judge appeared in my screen.
“Contestent, please confirm that you understand this is a battle mode 999 fight. the prize is ownership of the zoids “phat daddy liger” and “bitey Mc Scissors”. There will be no rules and no intervention. The fighting will continue until there is a victor by zoid destruction or deactivation”
My mouth dry I voiced my assent.
“Then fight”
“I knock you down like a leedle beeetch” screamed my opponent.
I chose to remain silent.
I’d have thought the ground bound liger would have gone to cover, and force me into it’s element. But instead it came racing towards me, Omni directional e-shield glowing in the sun, it’s megavulcans cranked to maximum elevations as it tried to shoot at me.
It was certainly locked on wit the radar, but a hard jink to the right got us out of his line of fire before he could do more than mar paint. I squeezed off a rail gun shot and missed.
I missed because I was expecting him to dodge right. Instead he curved to his left, in a big sloppy arc to try and get his guns back into line.
“I bet you 50 credits, I announced to the computer, that’s he’s so busy trying to shoot me he forgets to dodge at all”
“No deal,” spat out the secondary screen.
I went into a grand loop myself, then started flying backwards, sidesliping a little,
allowing him to start to get a reticule over me as I hammered at his shields with my vulcans. My opponent was so obsessed with the occasional shot at a foot or tail tip that he simply ignored the hail of bullets bouncing off his shield, weakening it. When the gales computer estimated that it was down 50% I let fly with the rail gun once more.
CRUNCH
I watched in delight as the hypervelocity chunk of depleted uranium went flying right through the liger’s left hand laser blades. An amateur mistake myself, as the megavulcans got a more solid lock and blasted that mostly repaired left wing apart.
We were going down, but at a much saner speed than last time, onto legs that were only nicked.
Landing.
thigs got busy fast
the kingliger came in on us in a rush, the right hand blades extending as they energized to carve towards the claw arm of my lord gale. I leaned and ducked cursing as they raked the back of the claw, shredding my vulcans into junk metal. I was gonna need that fly thingie for parts, if I survived this. My claws struck back however, skittering over shield, then severing his tail before the needle gun mounted there could make me miserable.
I span with the movement, swinging my lances round and up, expecting to get a shot off with the rail gun.
SPIKE
It turns out that the other thing mounted on a king liger’s tail is used for is helping it corner. The kid had slammed on the breaks and tried for a bootlegger turn slashing across my back, and only gotten half way. The lances were embedded in the liger’s rump, but my finger had already tightened on the railgun’s trigger
SPANG
The railgun shot ricocheted off the top of the kingliger’s cockpit. I heard the sound of tearing metal over comlink, never a good sign. The liger keeled over forward.
The judge siren sounded. I rushed to my opponent’s zoid, using my claws to leaver the cockpit open in the hopes that something could be done.
I rather wish I hadn’t.
Although the head armor hadn’t breached completely, it had buckled. This wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t for the gold plated sheets of metal that this boy had used to line the roof of his cockpit. They had shattered under the impact. It was like a gold filled shotgun had gone off in the cockpit, and the punk who had wanted me dead was himself the victom of his own vanity.
The lord gale was sensible enough to pop the cockpit without instruction, so that I could vomit somewhere easily cleaned.
We turned away, and I noticed something amazing, the judge etitng out of its capsule, and waving me form my zoid.
Curious, I spilled the Jacobs ladder out of the cockpit and clambered down to speak face to face with the mechanical arbiter of justice.
“Owning a zoid is a responsibility not to be taken lightly.” began the judge.
“Pilots have the ability to create incredible destruction in a zoid, and a truly skilled pilot can only be stopped by a pilot of equal skill. This is why we rank pilots and match them accordingly. Battle mode 999 is permitted only in cases lit this one. It was considered that neither of you would have had the skill required to actually kill one another, and that letting this poor boy work through some of his anger issues would be of benefit to all, considering the great power of his zoid. Unfortunately, his non standard modifications doomed him. It is the ruling of the Zoid Battle Comission that the death of the amateur pilot known as M.C. Smythe was cause due to these illegal modifications, which would have resulted in the zoids disqualification in anything but a battle mode 999 combat. No fault is to be attached to Pilot Davidson. The ZBC will provide appropriate support to pilot Davidson if he so requires it.
I thaught about it for a while.
“you know, actually I feel pretty good just now. A homicidal, delusional maniac attacked me with intent to kill, and was instead killed by what amounts to his own stupidity. Thanks for the offer judgeman.”
The judge whapped me lightly on the shoulder with one metal paddle hand.
“Don’t forget this. If you need to contact us, do so. And for gods sake practice some more. You’ve been blooded, but you’re still an amateur. You have a long long way to go before you can even think about rank B.
Standard disclaimer: I Don’t own zoids, yadita ya. Sanders is cool, there should be more fics with sanders in them. if you’re stupid enough to steel my characters, I hope you like typing in the babble Smythe speaks. Yuck.
Authors note. The character of MC Smythe was created some months ago for the purposes of annoying a role play board full of garry stu characters. He insisted on having a place in one of my fics, so here it is. BE afraid, BE very afraid.
The battle was over, the winner was no one
But for once, I hadn’t actually injured myself. This was a significant step up for me. And even better, the lord gale was mostly battered into components. I don’t know what sort of ancient genius came up with the blox system, but it’s tailor made for hopeless incompetents… like me.
3 hours with the equipment in the belly of the whale king, and it was back in action. With a computer system that was a lot less cocky sounding
“we got out asses kicked” It printed up on the secondary monitor.
“Damned straight.” I muttered at the computer. “We were anticipating he’d be up in the air, and he surprised the pants off us.”
“I think I need to re-evaluate my combat priorities. Destruction is less important than disabling. We need to win, not to leave blood smeared wreckage in our path.”
“Agreed”
I was bruised, I was tired. A tumble form the sky and then a 3 hour repair job had exhausted me, and the lord gale’s cockpit was as comfortable if not more so than my berth. I tipped my head back, ready for a hard earned nap.
Sanders walked in to the hanger at this point, and bellowed incomprehensibly at me.
He then nimbly dodged the wrench I threw at him, the bastard.
“Get up lazy bones, you still have a battle today.”
“Say what”
“A fan of that oldtimer has challenged you, he’s got no ranking at all, so he’s put his zoids up as prizes. A vintage kingliger, a flyscissors and a busted up diploguns. The battle offer is only good right now though, so if you want that bug you better move.”
Adrenaline shot through me, but then the gale helpfully brought up a schematic of kingliger. God almighty.
Fast, faster than I was on land. 4 energy blades on it’s head would make it the very devil to take in close combat, and 4 e-shield generators meant that my vulcans would count or didldy squat, while it’s vulcans would rip me up. A 3d radar system that was designed from the outset for anti air work.
“I’m not fighting that *Watch your language!*, there’s no *Watch your language!* way!” I screamed. “For once I have all my bones intact after a fight, this thing will shread me like a bacon slicer through butter!”
Sanders actually smiled at me this time.
“Two things. First the challenger has offered the diploguns simply for accepting the challenge. and while it’s power and stealth systems are shot the rail gun works just fine. Second he is more of an amateur than you are. watch this.”
He sailed a disk into the cockpit, and I slotted it into the computer.
It began to play. A 15 year old boy, by my best estimate, wearing at least 3 kilos of artificial junk jewelry around his neck a t-shirt that read strangely enough “suku my cook” and a backwards hat.
“Dudez you wack my pa, I gonna get funky on yo ass digit! For shizzle you be goin down now homes, respect! I smack your ass nick nack paddwack. you gonna cop a cap o 9mm intween your eyes fosho. You take me out, you keep my ride I swear. but you never do. My ride be pimpin mad ya digit? my liger be phatter than your mouldy gale ever be. I take you downtown, less you chicken or somthin. Come on foo, you ready to get wiggy with the jiggy?”
“The *Watch your language!*?”
“He’s a local trouble boy. You know the sort, Pure human helic trash, but wishes he was a nyxian zoidarian. Reckons he’s the next olde dirty lider or MC Panzer. He’s quite sincere in that challenge . You could realy use the parts, and the kingliger is an amazing zoid in and of its self. You’d go from being a liability to this team to an asset in one battle. Thers one problem though, he wants battle mode 999. That’s anything goes, and I do mean anything. He’s mad and he wants to kill you, so watch your ass out there.”
I guess I thaught about it for 2.3 seconds before the gale printed up on the screen, “lets do this, I can crack those shields with a railgun. Anyone who mangles language like that does not deserve to have any zoid, not even a gator! ”
“I guess we’re in” I told Sanders.
10 minutes later the railgun was mounted above and behind the lances. I kicked off the launch ramp and into the air. The ZBC judge appeared in my screen.
“Contestent, please confirm that you understand this is a battle mode 999 fight. the prize is ownership of the zoids “phat daddy liger” and “bitey Mc Scissors”. There will be no rules and no intervention. The fighting will continue until there is a victor by zoid destruction or deactivation”
My mouth dry I voiced my assent.
“Then fight”
“I knock you down like a leedle beeetch” screamed my opponent.
I chose to remain silent.
I’d have thought the ground bound liger would have gone to cover, and force me into it’s element. But instead it came racing towards me, Omni directional e-shield glowing in the sun, it’s megavulcans cranked to maximum elevations as it tried to shoot at me.
It was certainly locked on wit the radar, but a hard jink to the right got us out of his line of fire before he could do more than mar paint. I squeezed off a rail gun shot and missed.
I missed because I was expecting him to dodge right. Instead he curved to his left, in a big sloppy arc to try and get his guns back into line.
“I bet you 50 credits, I announced to the computer, that’s he’s so busy trying to shoot me he forgets to dodge at all”
“No deal,” spat out the secondary screen.
I went into a grand loop myself, then started flying backwards, sidesliping a little,
allowing him to start to get a reticule over me as I hammered at his shields with my vulcans. My opponent was so obsessed with the occasional shot at a foot or tail tip that he simply ignored the hail of bullets bouncing off his shield, weakening it. When the gales computer estimated that it was down 50% I let fly with the rail gun once more.
CRUNCH
I watched in delight as the hypervelocity chunk of depleted uranium went flying right through the liger’s left hand laser blades. An amateur mistake myself, as the megavulcans got a more solid lock and blasted that mostly repaired left wing apart.
We were going down, but at a much saner speed than last time, onto legs that were only nicked.
Landing.
thigs got busy fast
the kingliger came in on us in a rush, the right hand blades extending as they energized to carve towards the claw arm of my lord gale. I leaned and ducked cursing as they raked the back of the claw, shredding my vulcans into junk metal. I was gonna need that fly thingie for parts, if I survived this. My claws struck back however, skittering over shield, then severing his tail before the needle gun mounted there could make me miserable.
I span with the movement, swinging my lances round and up, expecting to get a shot off with the rail gun.
SPIKE
It turns out that the other thing mounted on a king liger’s tail is used for is helping it corner. The kid had slammed on the breaks and tried for a bootlegger turn slashing across my back, and only gotten half way. The lances were embedded in the liger’s rump, but my finger had already tightened on the railgun’s trigger
SPANG
The railgun shot ricocheted off the top of the kingliger’s cockpit. I heard the sound of tearing metal over comlink, never a good sign. The liger keeled over forward.
The judge siren sounded. I rushed to my opponent’s zoid, using my claws to leaver the cockpit open in the hopes that something could be done.
I rather wish I hadn’t.
Although the head armor hadn’t breached completely, it had buckled. This wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t for the gold plated sheets of metal that this boy had used to line the roof of his cockpit. They had shattered under the impact. It was like a gold filled shotgun had gone off in the cockpit, and the punk who had wanted me dead was himself the victom of his own vanity.
The lord gale was sensible enough to pop the cockpit without instruction, so that I could vomit somewhere easily cleaned.
We turned away, and I noticed something amazing, the judge etitng out of its capsule, and waving me form my zoid.
Curious, I spilled the Jacobs ladder out of the cockpit and clambered down to speak face to face with the mechanical arbiter of justice.
“Owning a zoid is a responsibility not to be taken lightly.” began the judge.
“Pilots have the ability to create incredible destruction in a zoid, and a truly skilled pilot can only be stopped by a pilot of equal skill. This is why we rank pilots and match them accordingly. Battle mode 999 is permitted only in cases lit this one. It was considered that neither of you would have had the skill required to actually kill one another, and that letting this poor boy work through some of his anger issues would be of benefit to all, considering the great power of his zoid. Unfortunately, his non standard modifications doomed him. It is the ruling of the Zoid Battle Comission that the death of the amateur pilot known as M.C. Smythe was cause due to these illegal modifications, which would have resulted in the zoids disqualification in anything but a battle mode 999 combat. No fault is to be attached to Pilot Davidson. The ZBC will provide appropriate support to pilot Davidson if he so requires it.
I thaught about it for a while.
“you know, actually I feel pretty good just now. A homicidal, delusional maniac attacked me with intent to kill, and was instead killed by what amounts to his own stupidity. Thanks for the offer judgeman.”
The judge whapped me lightly on the shoulder with one metal paddle hand.
“Don’t forget this. If you need to contact us, do so. And for gods sake practice some more. You’ve been blooded, but you’re still an amateur. You have a long long way to go before you can even think about rank B.
