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CP2020: J is for Jovian A Cyberpunk play-by-post administered by Baelfyre.

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Old 09-28-2008, 05:06 AM
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Default The beginning of a Bad Day

If you could have seen them, the new AV12 Shockwave’s would have still been as ugly as their predecessors. A little more heavily armed, a little bigger, but the real changes lay in what you couldn’t see. And the first thing you couldn’t see was the AV12, because of the new active camouflage systems.

Three of them sat outside the abandoned mall in what used to be Orlando, waiting on the assault teams they had deployed to the ARC base under the mall to return. Inside Shadow 2, Norton sat, bored. This operation was a typical Corp clusterfuck. A dozen Dragoons, a half dozen Spyders, and twenty operators to go after a glorified ripperdoc and his bodyguards.

Norton watched his Times Square count down, and at two minutes he ran the system diagnostics and local area scan, feeding the results to Cam, who was running Netwatch. Cam said “Be careful. I’m picking up the seismic from heavy weapons fire. Some of it matches our stuff. Some doesn‘t.”

Swearing, Norton switched the Shockwave’s systems from standby to full power, gunning the throttle to the vectored thrust engines to take off. After the AV12 had lifted a couple of feet, he turned the front of the craft to point at the entrance to the underground garage, and checked his targeting scanners for targets.

A shockwave blasted out of the garage, catching the other two AV12’s as they lifted off a few seconds behind Shadow 2. Both ground into the asphalt, losing precious seconds in turning to face the garage. The wave of dust and debris that followed obscured everything for a few moments. As the debris pelted Shadow 2, some of it came through the armorglass windshield and landed in his lap. Shoving it out of his lap with difficulty, he saw that it was the head of one of the Dragoons.

Two shapes lurched out of the shadows, running towards the hovering Shockwave. Norton started to fire the twin 30mm chain guns, but at the last second their IFF came through, so he settled for strafing the area behind them with the hypersonic depleted uranium.

“This is D1. We have the target. Open your bay, and continue providing cover fire. There are no other survivors.” Norton heard over his comm. A violet lightning bolt shot out of the garage, striking Shadow 1. In it’s wake, Shadow 1 exploded and comms went dead. Norton fired a stick of anti-tank rockets off the starboard number three pylon into the garage, hoping like hell that he’d hit whoever had that… whatever the fuck it was. Or at least make them duck for a second while he turned and let the operators on.

Turning the massive craft so that his open bay door faced the troops, he kept the chain gun turret firing into the holocaust inside the garage. As if in spite, another violet flash hit Shadow 3. Which was just too bad for them.

The smoke cleared enough for Norton to get a look at the two operators heading towards his craft. Dragoons. The most dangerous full conversion borgs in the world, running straight towards him. One was missing an arm, and the other was firing a .50 caliber machinegun behind him blind. Between them, a net was strung carrying several cases. Both of them looked like they’d had the shit kicked out of them.

The two inhuman monsters jumped the last ten meters into the craft, almost crashing through the far wall as the crashed to the floor. The craft shuddered from the shock, and then again as Norton pushed the throttle to full emergency power.

Almost jumping into the air, the craft almost avoided a third flash of violet lightning. Almost, but not quite, as the lightning cut both Dragoons in half , blowing through both armored walls as if they were so much air. Turning the craft desperately, Norton tried to bring the heavy weapons back to bear before those bastards down below could blow him out of the air. Howling with triumph, he fired all five remaining sticks of missiles and rockets, just as a last violet flash cut through the bottom of the craft right below him, blowing a hole three inches across running from his ass all the way out through his head.

The corpses hands spasming directed the ungainly craft down. Through the roof of what had been the Macy’s store.
‘Temporarily and unwittingly employed as God’s attack dog’ might go to his head.
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