!!0ZviLFh59My 05/02/12(Wed)20:52 No.18953932|
File: 1336006337.jpg-(125 KB, 1000x1000, 1331255153721.jpg)
Climbing away from the strike zone, you angle westward to avoid flying over the "front line," as it currently exists, climbing away from the infested English countryside and it's abundance of bored Martians with itchy trigger fingers.
"Robin, you still with?"
"Y-yes!" she says, sliding up on your right wing again. "I shot at 'em!"
"Good for you," you say absently, putting your right wing on the blasted farmhouse as you fly a circumspect circle, observing. "Ian, you got-"
"Platoon of Grants playing turtle on the road ridgeline, I think," he says, putting his eagle eyes to good use. "Shit, they just lost one. They can't crack those big bastards pushing on - shit, see that dust cloud?"
You strain your eyes. "Yeah!"
"No tank on the end of it. Guess what it is!"
Far below, your sharp eyes catch the wink of magical light. Soon you spot a few other smoke trails, pushing into the field from the left-corner in a flanking attack.
The Tank Witches have arrived.
And that's when five 'sleds drop out of the cloud deck and arrow towards the road.
>GROUND ATTACK IS BEST ATTACK
>Scatter them, then move mud!
>KILL ALL THE SLEDS