If Two Can Do It... (ASA Dominion of Olvan)

[Placeholder 0139]

The Monitor was in no position to help the men on the ground. The Imperial soldiers arrived; pint sized the the local Republic's force. They hauled monstrous spider droid and tanks forward. Explosives littered the defending party's area, and the rapid click of machine guns firing slugs broke through the howl of the storm. It was too congested for the Architects to provide air support, and the Imperial force had begun to strike out at other cities around the planet. The stalemate had been broken, and war had come about once more.

"Maintain a safe distance, but do not retreat."

 

[Una Gal]

The dreaded sound of heavy metal doors began to resonate in her ears. Her worst fears came true as she turned to watch the shutter slam home to the floor. The panic inside her ensued. Her eyes went wide and she twitched nervously on the spot, not sure whether she should stand on one foot or the other. A visible sweat broke out on her forehead as she tried to retain her concentration on the sith's words.

But they only seemed to make it worse. Coupled with the opening two doors to confirm her words were true, Una turned to Gravy with huge bambi looking eyes. She wasn't scary. Not in the least. She had nothing she could scare these men with. Turning back was the option she was leaning toward, but she knew how important this was to Gravy. That didn't stop the true horror expressed on her face. Her hands shook as she exhaled. "I... s-suppose we have to go through..." The stutter was back. The only thing Una truly hated about herself. When she was focused she could control it. But when the room began to feel airless, there was nothing she could do.

[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

It pulled at his heartstrings, truly. This wasn't something he would have wanted Una to go through. She was so...innocent, in a way. He on the other hand, could handle something like this. There was truly only one solution. The Rattataki swallowed hard, gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and lowered his voice.

"I know of a technique...not personally, but I've heard of it. It's like a mind trick. You use the force to terrify people into submission. Show them their absolute worst fears. Rip the thoughts from their minds, and make them think they're real." He explained. "It sounds bad but...sometimes it's necessary."

He tilted his head forward, and gave her a gentle smile. They needed this planet, and for that, they needed this fleet. There was no other option. "You're smart, and strong. I know you can do it. We'll get through, grab the fleet, and you'll be a hero."

[member="Una Gal"]

 

[Placeholder 0139]

War had broken out across the planet. Cities were beginning to burn. Villages were being stormed. Primitive air vessels were taking to the skies and raining hellfire upon the frozen world. It was hell in every sense of the word. The fleet would stop this, of course, but damage had to be controlled. the Architects could barely help friendly forces hold the temple doors, let alone their capital cities.

The Monitor made a call. "ASA designation Monitor, requesting assistance from available units."

The message was broadcast across friendly space. It was short, sweet, and to the point. Hopefully, it would bare fruit.

 

[Ronan Nakasla]

"ASA designation Monitor, requesting assistance from available units." ​

​

The signal bounced, ricocheted, and piggybacked its way to a terminal Seren was on, just reading and taking it easy after everything that had happened. He still felt a little sore, but pain medications and the Force had alleviated most of the aches of 'dying'. He still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the fact that he'd been announced K.I.A., but that was fine. It made things easier, harder... a bit of both. He tapped the screen and opened the message. The voice came through and he tilted his head in interest. He swept over the interface and came upon the credentials of this Monitor individual. It was a legitimate call. He swept again, and pulled up the schematics for his custom gear.

"Nowhere near finished..." he muttered grimly.

Either way, a little skirmish alongside the Systems Authority would be a good way to give the new body a whirl. He stood and went out the door, headed for the armoury in the facility he was housed in. He switched his casual clothing for a gunmetal grey battle dress uniform, and strapped on durasteel armour over it and a combat vest over the chest plate. His sleeves covered the metal arm, and gloves covered all but the fingers of his hands. He strapped on a helmet, and wrapped a scarf around his face like a mask. Finally, he grabbed a pair of sunglasses and several weapons before heading out. He looked the part of a mercenary of no repute, and that suited his purpose for now. He grabbed a small, unassuming ship that didn't need to be specified and headed out to answer the call for aid from his old allies of the ASA.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

"This is Dreadguard Unit Zero-One touching down now. It's a mess." Book rumbled into the fleetcom channel built into his helmet. He shouldered his rifle; the powerful weapon whirring as its power cell was brought to life. He wore his sidearm in the holster attached to his hip, and his shotgun strapped to the small of his back. His landing had been in the form of an escape pod, and he had crashed half a click from the capital city.

A city that happened to be up in flames right now.

He looked over the separate icons in his HUD. Everything looked like it was all together, and the joints in his armor were functioning appropriately. Grunting, he hoisted himself out of the twisted metal wreck that was the escape pod, and began to jog toward the city.

 

[Ronan Nakasla]

Autopilot engaged. The trip was a very, very short one since he was only a couple of sectors away. He readied his assault blaster and slipped his sunglasses on, then moved to the loading ramp and hit the button to open it. Pressure dropped, and Seren braced himself against the winds as he watched the battle below. It was difficult to tell who was who, but based on colour the guys he read he was supposed to be helping were the ones that looked more imperialistic. The ship drifted over the battleground, descending to a relatively safe height, before he dropped out of the vessel. The ship took off in a blast of hot air, and with manipulation of the air around him, he increased friction and dropped at a speed that wouldn't cause injury. He tucked, rolled, and immediately stood from within the ranks of friendly short people, and opened fire upon those he assumed were hostiles. Several were moved down from the fire-from above, but Seren quickly rolled into cover behind a few of the chest-high wall-people he was helping.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Left.

DG-01 arrived on the outskirts of the capital three minutes later. His ID tag was flashing for all friendlies to see-- a rally point for anyone involved in the fighting. The small creatures in armor of blue and black colors were allies, red and white were hostiles. Easy enough. He brought his rifle up to bear, and charged out of cover. The creatures all turned to stare as the massive armor man charged the enemy line.

Their weapons were primitive, and barely dented the Phase V armor. Book's rifle, on the other hand, melted their armor and skin like wax. He elbow one opponent's helmet in upon itself, and gunned down his two allies. This road was cleared, and the pint sized defenders were cheering. Book paid them no mind. ASA friendlies were his concern.

 

[Hawken Nikolai]

"Dreadguard Unit Three-Eight making contact with surface in 3...2...1..." The blaring roar of entry into the atmosphere of Olvan shook and rocked the drop-pod Three-Eight lay inside of. His eyes closed as he could feel the pressure barrier break upon arrival, the hiss of wind cooling the red hot metal of the pod's nose before he landed. Busting down the hatch door, he threw himself to the ground, landing on his knee in a crouched position. He looked at his surroundings and figured he had landed not too far from the last transmission's starting point.

He shouldered his very own assault rifle, turned the safety off, and made sure it was operational. The burning capital was enough of a sign to let him know what the deal was.


Time to get down to business. He double-timed it towards the burning city, locked and loaded.

 

[Ronan Nakasla]

Seren quickly realised, as he stopped using conventional tactics, that these creatures were inferiour. As arrogant as that sounded, the initial fear that made him take cover evaporated as he saw that a single shot could mow through their armour and their slugthrower rounds left little scratches and nicks in his durasteel plating. It soon became little more than the man standing above the diminutive little creatures and spraying his whole power pack over the visible field, striking down a few scores of the enemy. He flashed his gaze to the little men that gawked at his display of technological power, and they too cheered him on.

The agent had little time for their celebrations. The enemy was still coming, and with a reload of the power pack he got back to it. He saw several figured clad in full body armour close in on the area. They seemed to be on his side too. Good. He didn't want to have to deal with some special force team as they appeared to be. There was something off about them, as well. A lack of presence. It honestly creeped Seren out, so he avoided looking at them and concentrated on extinguishing tiny lives.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

"This is O-One hearing you Three-Eight. Move to my position, Nikolai." Book ordered. The motion tracker on his HUD indicated something nearby was making its moves. He turned his head, glancing just over the shoulder pad to see some of the local defenders mounting a primitive defense turret. The Dreadguard shook his head, and moved on toward the edge of the capital; facing the enemy line.

Dozens of armored vehicles peppered the city with turrets, ordnance, and mortar fire. Building exploded and sent wood and shrapnel flying in every direction. Book's shields flashed as bullets ricocheted off his armor and fell weakly to the floor. He went down onto one knee behind what looked to be some form of car, propped his cannon up on its side, and unleashed a powerful missile. It soared toward an enemy tank, and sent it flying in a thousand pieces; bloodied bodies and limbs falling with it.

Book didn't say a word. He just went to the task of reloading the handheld cannon.

[member="Hawken Nikolai"]

 

[DG-42]

The pod was all dark, just as 42 liked it. There were no lights, except for one red light blinking dimly to his right. "42 making surface contact in-" the mechanical voice was cut off by something. The pod shook violently. Something had hit it, a projectile? No, then 42 would've been dead by now, he must've rammed something on his way down, not sure what it was. The only thing he was certain of was that he was off course and that his sensors didn't work. "Interesting. Let's see where we come down, shall we?" He said out loud. It was as if he was talking with someone, but there was no one other than himself in the pod.

BOOM.

He had hit the ground, but not in the regular way. The pod hadn't slowed down quickly enough and had literally crashed into the ground. Something behind 42 had exploded, nothing major, just a little shock. He looked around, the pod was broken into pieces, he was slightly injured, but it was only a tiny flesh wound on the side of his thigh. Pushing himself off the ground, he noticed there were tiny men gathering to see what was going on. When he was standing up straight again, he looked around again and drew his swords. "Kill it!" Were the words uttered by one of the creatures at the front, before 42's blades dug into it. Then another and another. It was almost a whirlwind of blades, bullets and blood. This was going to be an entertaining event.

 

[Hawken Nikolai]

"Copy. En route to your position." His entrance into the city was not one welcomed by any means. His HUD was picking up multiple hostiles ahead of his position, and they were only in his way. He paced himself in a slight jog, snapping to one of the hostiles that popped out from their cover to sneak off a few rounds. His finger squeezed the trigger of his rifle and a steady burst nailed the creature in the face with pin-point accuracy. Brain matter and residue painted one of its allies as it and the others watched in horror. Their bullets seemed to have little to no effect as the mass of armor steamrolled through their ranks.

Short bursts of concentrated fire ripped through them all as Nikolai seemed to snap between targets with terrifying ease. Their bodies were riddled with multiple wounds and bullet holes, one of them trying to call out for backup.

Too late.

Three-Eight didn't even look at the pathetic, bloodied mess as he crushed its head beneath his armored foot. He had an objective to carry out.

[member="Book"]

 

[Ronan Nakasla]

Seren's professional attitude descended into one of simply killing because it was becoming amusing to watch the little bodies fly around. Somewhere a vehicle exploded, sending more of them flying, and he decided to play. Tossing his rifle in a random direction where it bowled over one of his allied minimen who squealed with delight and quickly learned how to pull the trigger and rain death upon his enemies while laughing hysterically at the power he was just gifted, Seren reached out a hand and gripped the little white-and-red tykes out of the air. He crushed them all together and expanded his focus, creating a telekinetic singularity that dragged the little things together into a large ball. They crushed against one another until it was a mass of bones, blood, flesh, and primitive armour, and Seren flicked his wrist and the ball went racing forward into their ranks. It bowled a swathe of death through before it rolled onto another mobile armour vehicle. Rather than try and move, the man cannon blasted out of the ball, sending body parts like shrapnel out and raining down upon the area.

It was horrible, but yet somehow comical.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

"Tanks! They have tanks!" One of the defenders screamed to the heavens. Indeed, eighteen massive, treaded tanks rolled over the adjacent mountain. Book only stared for a moment. Three-Eight was on his radar now, not far at all.

Shells began to tear the city apart from the tanks. Book was only carrying two more missiles, which would do little if anything at all to stop the enemy. He had to improvise. DG-01 turned on his heel, and ran for one of the vehicles he had seen abandoned seconds before. It was an old truck, thankfully large, as it was industrial. Still, it was a tight squeeze fitting inside. He slammed his foot on the pedal, and peeled out toward his comrade's position.

The silver truck pulled up a meter or so away from [member="Hawken Nikolai"] and just barely came to a stop. Book draped his hand over the seat and rolled six small spheres into the back of the truck. "I drive, you throw." He explained. It was only then, that the red dots on the weapons identified them as thermal detonators.

 

[DG-42]

After the creatures were reduced to nothing more than a pile of blood and bodies, he was ready to move on, though that is when an explosion happened next to him. He was thrown off balance and stumbled. Now in a kneeling position he drew his shotgun. One of those creatures had to have thrown an grenade or something similar. They would pay for that. With his swords back in their sheaths and his shotgun out, he charged forward towards a smoke trail in front of him. He let off a couple shots when he entered the trail of smoke and his vision was gone. He heard a couple grunts and screams, seems like he hit his target, but also a metallic clang. When he got out of the smoke, he noticed a big pile of metal in front of him. A vehicle of some sort, a tank? Yes, that must've been it. He charged it, putting back his shotgun and drawing his swords once more.

The tank didn't notice him, but the little men around it did. They started shooting, but to no avail. Their shots didn't even leave a scratch, while he was still charging the tank. When close enough, he jumped, swirled in the air, cutting open the hatch on top of the tank and landed atop it. Quickly dropping a grenade, he jumped off again, behind the tank into a large group of enemies. He cut through them as if they were nothing. "IS THIS ALL YOU'VE GOT, PATHETIC CREATURES?!? DON'T YOU HAVE ANYTHING MORE?!?"

 

[Hawken Nikolai]

"Roger that, heh." Three-Eight hustled and climbed up the back of the truck. He looked around and saw what remained of the city's inhabitants. Many bodies littered the streets and some were even smoldering heaps of burnt flesh with outstretched limbs, almost as if they were trying to reach out for some sort of hope that wasn't there to save them. The Dreadguard exhaled sharply and picked up one of the spheres, slinging the rifle over his shoulder by the strap. "Drive." A simple enough order.

He arched his right arm back and prepared himself to throw like nobody's thrown before.

[member="Book"]

 

[Ronan Nakasla]

While the elite units had fun with their toys, Seren decided to give his own new toy a try out, and flimsy primitive tanks were perfect material. He marched out into the open battlefield and used his telekinetic abilities to create a field around him that would render the bullets inert and fall uselessly to the ground. His march became a run, and then a full-on sprint at the line of tanks. One fired at him, and he dove and rolled to avoid the shell that exploded behind him. Primitive tech or not, explosions were explosions. He then recovered and made the last fast paces to that front-most vehicle and lunged forward left arm-first. Metallic fingers dug into prehistoric steel, and he clawed his way up the vehicle. Once he reached the top hatch, he ripped it off by the power of his cybernetic arm, and shot both the driver and cannon-manner with his blaster pistol. He grabbed them both and tore them from within the vehicle, then he jumped off onto enemy lines, channeled the Force into his leg power, and kicked the tank hard, willfully focusing the energy out evenly rather than on one point. The tank skittered, rolled, tumbled, and smashed the regrouping enemy forces, then the tank landed conveniently at the front line of the friendly creatures. They cheered again and manned the tank, and that little guy with a blaster rifle was growing crazier by the moment.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t1kwIqp1DgA

Book's foot was to the floor. The monstrous engine of the truck roared for the blood of those operating the tanks. No one paid attention until it was too late. The truck bounced and soared over the hilly terrain; an impossible target for the remaining tanks. One had just been super saiyaned the kark outta here. Book made a point to honk the horn as he bobbed and weaved through the tanks; allowing Three-Eight to unleash his load.

"Four-Two, is that you?" Book demanded as an all too familiar sight came into view, and flashed across his HUD.

[member="Hawken Nikolai"] [member="DG-42"]

 

[DG-42]

The swords cut down one creature, then another and another and another, then an explosion behind him and parts of metal and blood flying around. He was covered in blood and surrounded by death, just as he liked it. His blood was boiling and he was thirsting for more. He wanted to kill more of them, he wanted more death, more destruction and that is exactly what he got, he cut through the creatures. Blood was splattering everywhere and he was enjoying it in a sick and twisted way. Then a voice came through to him.

"PATHETIC CREATURES." 42 shouted. Then he cut another little creature, while laughing like a maniac.

@Book @Hawken Nikolai