>>5327429Sitting perched atop the Something Wicked, the sun kisses your skin for what felt like the first time in years, the grand expanse of Hole briefly unveiled before you. A scar across your homeland. A grave of a once great nation, ruins littering the horizon. The burned out and ground up remains of kilometer tall skyscrapers and homes. Metal and stone, the flesh and bone of a city. The cremated souls carried on the low sweeping winds, hiding for a moment and waiting to return. Only a few hours of clear sky remain, turning away from the beautiful sight as you inspect the others of your team. A single Prince Class was at your side, sitting crossed legged on top Nineteen and Three scan a paper map. It noisily flaps as they struggle to keep it weighted down, slate grey clouds bringing with them the smell of wet earth.
The other three Phobos were all Knight Class units, tiny against your lanky machine. Every single unit was a Rapier type. "Seven we are lost!" Three shouts over, Nineteen shrugging in capitulation while rolling up the map. "Fucking Corporals!" Eleven adds across the LO-Comms. The Pride of Silbrisk pivots as he reflectively raises a hand to shade his observers. You take a look at your own map and compass. You'd be lying if you weren't a little stumped. A light rain began to pelt the landscape, the shy sun slinking back under the cover of the overcast blanket. You knew it would only be a passing shower. "Don't let the equipment get wet, Take some aerial snaps and we'll use those to help navigate." Folding your own map up, it fits neatly into a waterproof sling. "On it Boss!" Nine replies.
The Lance of Yiga ejects two surveillance drones. In a fluid motion you hook the container to your shoulder and scramble down the side of your Phobos slipping right into the exposed core. Immediately sinking into the first layer as the world snaps back into existence. Gingerly you allow three to ride on the palm of your hand, placing him beside Dream Strider. Maxima Dracul stirs at your side, metal joints flexing and creasing as Nineteen transmits across the LO Comms. "We don't have long, at this rate we won't be on site before losing clear skies. We gotta book it." Nomad Swallow saunters out in front of the unit as drone shots begin to feed across the network. "Hauling ass might give us away but it's a risk we have to take, how about we race for it?" Six smugly states, the Swallow squatting on its heels. "It's up to you Boss." Nine cuts in. The shots reveal you had a few kilometers of rubble to circumvent, it was the perfect location for spotters.
>What do you do, Pilot?>What do you say?Write in?>Take your time and be careful? >Race to meet the deadline? 