Quoted By:
Cooling insufficient, reactor output dropping to 64%.
Reduce overuse.
Systems damaged, myomar compromised.
Reduce overuse.
Weapon malfunction.
Reduce-
Red and yellow lights blinked intermittently in the cockpit, symptoms of systems screaming in protest at being abused.
Delta was trying her best, as he could tell.
But they were fighting the better part of three companies of mechs, the ambushes or boarding attempts from StateSec troopers showed no sign of slowing down, and the damage kept piling up.
Being the largest target on the battlefield did that to you.
Another missile from her shoulder-mounted battery winged skywards, smacking the incoming contacts from the sky.
The number indicating reloads moved.
They weren’t quite fighting alone, but the twelve escorting Patriot mechs had been culled to four, and the scarlet-painted members of Crimson Lance had withdrawn after leaving Conspiracy’s broken machine on the ground.
So Kinson fought on, the muted snarling of the machine in his head matching the thunder of his mech, and the hissing of the lasers. His arms were strong, his hide impenetrable. All would fall beneath him, rebels, traitors, and Tamar alike.
Fire.
Reactor overdraw, reduce strain.
Fire.
His socket didn’t itch anymore.
Fire.
Targets low. Retreating. Fleeing before him.
Fire.
His chest hurt.
Engage physical strike, brush-off maneuvers. Shaking, scraping metal over metal to squish the writhing ants before they could bite his head.
The laughter is infectious.
Until it stops.
Then silence.
Blessed silence.
None stand before him.
Eyes snapped forwards. The senate within view. Streets too small for his legs, but nothing could stop His ascension to-
