Middas Betancore
Mantodea MC
432
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Posted - 2015.02.04 19:20:00 -
[1] - Quote
Was helping an imperial ally do the laser rifle officer challenge
Holding a hilltop with said laser person in proto Ammar assault
I was in a Logistics C-1 (cheap fit) to give general triage support
After laying waste to many enemies, we find ourselves beset by ravenous foes advancing up the base of the hill
"My lord there's too many this time! You must withdraw, I'll hold them off!"
"Agreed, I shall withdraw to a better position"
Steeling my nerves I crouch in a foxhole, clutching my remaining flux grenade in one hand, my trusty bolt pistol in the other.
Seeing the gray polymer housing of the pistol reflecting the failing daylight, my eyes are drawn to the white stenciled "C", my heart suddenly filled with resolve and pride.
My thumb presses with total conviction on the grenades activation stud, it emits a series of muted beeps as it's arming sequence comes toward its semi-lethal conclusion.
With a shout I hurl the grenade over the lip of the foxhole, it tumbles through the air toward a trio of advancing hostiles, with an ear piercing shriek the charge detonated releasing a crackling web of electromagnetic static coruscating accroas the enemies dropsuits , each ones shields collapsing with a sudden crack of displacing air.
I rise to a half crouched combat stance, the pistol nestled between both hands, the distant shouts of my master echoing in my memory, the painful thoughts of the drill square on Caldari Prime, the walls reverberating with his shouts of marksmanship principles and conviction of aggression.
The closest enemy sights me as my finger squeezes the trigger, my mind absently notes the look of the enemies brooding grey armour and glowing yellow quad lenses, a barely audible whine builds before the pistol bucks harshly in my hands, the enemies head snaps back and a satisfy spray of blood and vicera paints his ally behind him.
A lance of golden light screeches past my helmet as the second foe looses a series of shots aimed to burn my head from its shoulders, my torso half twists to face the shooter, the dust grinding beneath my swiveling boots, the pistol bucks again striking the enemy directly in his sternum, the impact causing only a minor pause in his actions before the following round strikes home punching clean through its left eye lense
Before my stance can shift to engage the third assailant my vision is lit by blinding blue flashes as the shields of my suit are hammered by a series of blaster rounds, a heartbeat later my chest is lit by incandescent pain and im thrown from my feet, my back landing hard against the rock behind me.
Blood bubbles between my lips distorting the final defiant proclamation as the edges of my vision begin to darken
"Kir-jj-uun Heeii-aan"
"Deploy the gas, we'll burn what's left"- Redacted
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