File: It's party time.jpg (240 KB, 745x988)

240 KB JPG

That’s right, it has taken us 100 threads to get here, but at long last I have taken over! That means so long, Anode - we’re going to take a trip back in time, to eras before our protagonist and his sister were even blueprints on a computer in Pennsylvania. We’re going to walk through the setting and see the forces that have shaped the world, the forces that I craft to provide lore, history, and color to the events of Maverick Hunter Quest.

And as you all know, I make the monsters.

File: World needs saving again (...).jpg (284 KB, 1460x672)

284 KB JPG

The timeline of Reploids has been shaped by conflict and monstrosity as much as hope and innovation. Fortunately for the sake of the world, whenever villains have risen, heroes have emerged to put them down. Our backstory is filled with such figures:

> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
> A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
> A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
> A second chance making his first impression
> A woman alone who defied fate, but could not escape it
> An immovable force facing an unstoppable object
> A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
> A student of destruction forced to face the master

File: HC and CL tan.png (406 KB, 811x697)

406 KB PNG

>>4110905
And I'm here as well, in the unusual spot of watching the story instead of writing it. Welcome, everyone!

File: Sigmacrush.jpg (294 KB, 600x600)

294 KB JPG

>>4110924
Oh, and right, I suppose I've got to co-pilot in CL's stead.

A little music, to get us started.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtdhHN29iBg

Welcome back, HC and CL! I am filled with anticipation and trepidation.

>>4110920
>> A woman alone who defied fate, but could not escape it

Presuming these are our choices, I think this one sounds interesting...

File: D5KDsdIUUAEIouT.jpg (128 KB, 1200x1008)

128 KB JPG

>>4110920
THERE ARE NO BRAKES ON THE CAIN TRAIN.

>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power

>>4110912

Oh no

Also
>>4110920
>> A woman alone who defied fate, but could not escape it

File: 1359514655852.jpg (1.41 MB, 2048x1536)

1.41 MB JPG

>>4110920
>A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear

>>4110920
>A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear

>>4110920
>> A second chance making his first impression

File: 10984152.jpg (592 KB, 1275x822)

592 KB JPG

>>4110920
>A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
https://youtu.be/cx7WeHSxmow

>>4110912
>And as you all know, I make the monsters.

Is...is it us? Are the monsters us?

>>4111140
No, it's birds.

>>4111185
I mean obviously.

File: agameofchicken.png (49 KB, 1098x987)

49 KB PNG

>>4111185
>>4111224
Good thing we can let Repliforce help us with these sorts of things in the future, huh?

File: yeah no we're not doing this.png (387 KB, 640x600)

387 KB PNG

>>4111227

>>4110920
>A woman alone who defied fate, but could not escape it

LET'S ROLL, SUCKERS

Alright, closing vote and writing.

>>4110920
>> A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
I mean, if the shoe fits...

>>4110920
> A woman alone who defied fate, but could not escape it

File: Egyptian death dog planet(...).png (182 KB, 387x548)

182 KB PNG

>>4110950
>>4110954
>>4111257
>>4111372

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pTWmfsTbuU

You are India, a pilot with the Maverick Hunters 11th Space Command, and you’re enjoying a smooth flight down Golentz lane 043.

Word from Earth has it that Hunters are being attacked by a new enemy threat and that X himself has had to get personally involved. You wouldn’t mind a bit of aerial combat if they felt the need to reassign you, but Cygnus says the primary concern remains keeping any possible threats out of space. So here you are in your Tetra, patrolling the Mining Worlds for any sign of incursion. It’s keeping you out of trouble, at the very least - and you could never be bored when you can look out on the boundless freedom of space every day.

The Golentz lanes are always strange to look out on; light seeming to bend and scatter at random, sometimes splitting around apparently nonexistent obstacles or changing color. You’ve never been much for the science of what are basically wormholes as far as you’re concerned; you just appreciate their usefulness (and aesthetic), but you look forward to returning to normal space just the same.

The terminus nears, and you emerge near the planet Anubis, the dark crystalline geography catching the play of light from nearby stars. You punch a couple of buttons to send your callsign and verification code through to orbital control. An easy stopover at the station for an inspection and refueling, and then it’s off to Geb. Already you’re being approached by Geimköttur orbital handling Mechaniloids and Scramblers. Bog standard. Maybe you’ll ask the old swan to see about a temporary assignment. A bit of action, anything.

That’s when they start ramming you.

File: Politely responding to ai(...).jpg (18 KB, 480x360)

18 KB JPG

“Fucking hell?” you shout, switching on comms as you see the large blobby space Mechaniloid swinging around for another pass. You hail orbital control but receive no response. Grabbing the control wheel, you quickly roll your Tetra away from the next hit, ducking an incoming Scrambler that seems intent on hitting the cockpit glass. “Anubis Control!” you shout at your comm, “your stupid space tubs are getting dusted in the next 15 seconds if you can’t get them back in gear!”

You’d be more comfortable if that was just an angry threat, rather than the tactical assessment you’ve been forced to make. The Geimköttur aren’t tremendously dextrous - something like old 20th century submarines crossed with giant stuffed cats, they’re intended for slow and careful movements - but they’re still heavy enough that an impact is damaging. As for the smaller Scramblers, the last thing you need is an arm getting tangled up in something important.

You’ve just shot two of them out of the sky when you notice a trio of Draumur orbital craft approaching from the surface. Pulse lasers are already firing in your direction. It looks like you’ve flown right into the dogfight you were craving.

> Attempt to weave through them to disorient them and escape the Mechaniloids
> Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually
> Other?

>>4110920
> A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
And so it begins

File: onearmedbandit.gif (6 KB, 232x197)

6 KB GIF

>>4111390
>Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually.

At least we didn't get caught in slot machine limbo.

>>4111390
> Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually

>>4111390
>Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually.

Enemies can't overwhelm you when there aren't any enemies.

>>4111402
> Other? get caught in slot machine limbo.

Capital idea.

File: tanker tigershark writes (...).png (961 KB, 1366x768)

961 KB PNG

>>4111390
Votes only open for 2 hours? What madness have you subjected us to, Cain!?

> Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually

File: brightroarlionseesthecalendar.jpg (48 KB, 428x413)

48 KB JPG

>>4111417
OH NOOOOO
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJS7PiyQius

>>4111390
> Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually

>>4111390
>> Attempt to weave through them to disorient them and escape the Mechaniloids

HELL YEAH

>>4111390
>Take out the Geimkottur and use it as a meatshield
How much of this planet is compromised?

>>4111390
> Strafe to the side to reduce their targeting profile and attempt to pick them off individually
oh shit oh fuck

Vote closed and writing. Post may be a bit delayed.

File: Anode fights next Cain La(...).jpg (86 KB, 769x672)

86 KB JPG

Morning, folks! I find myself in the unusual position of awaiting the next update with you all.

So how's it been? How's a hundred bloody threads of robot nonsense found you?

>>4112122
It's pretty great, thanks for asking!

>>4112122
I could use another hundred bloody threads

>>4112122
I'm up for this mad endeavor anytime, anywhere.

File: Zebro.jpg (55 KB, 640x400)

55 KB JPG

>>4112142
>>4112158
Nice.

~~Welcome to the Fourth.~~

File: maverick hunter quest.jpg (379 KB, 1012x1280)

379 KB JPG

>>4112122
aw yea

>>4112167
[s]Don't mind me, multitasking by testing some formatting that has completely fallen out of my brain over time.[/s]

So does anyone have any lore questions, story questions, character asks, etc? I figure while I'm in the copilot's chair I can look into what I can answer, both inworld and, to some extent, behind the curtain as author.

File: Reality should be higher (...).jpg (280 KB, 1024x768)

280 KB JPG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzzVOx6fOvw

Three against one isn’t the worst strategy, but the approach is too obvious - you could counter this in your sleep! Thumbs on your triggers, you spray fire at the approaching Draumurs as you kick on the lateral thruster to sweep off to the right, strafing their line. The enemy pilots break formation as they dodge, and the one closest to your new position has picked the wrong way to roll, canopy exposed to your guns. Easy picking - lock, fire, and that’s one down, a fireball engulfing the craft as its remains begin to implode.

BOOM.

“What now?” you grumble as you check your radar quickly. You see the next one coming - the first shot was behind you, but this beam shot narrowly misses taking you out as you pitch upward, a jet of deadly light whizzing past to vanish into the depths of space. They must have captured the orbital defense weaponry. That’s going to make things a hell of a lot worse.

You toggle comms and try to call Horus Base, but of course the fuckers are jamming you. Fine then. You’ve seen their skills - two on one is no contest. Already the two are trying to converge on you, pulses crackling at your position from 2 o’clock and 10 o’clock. You put on a burst of speed, entering into a hard roll and pitching down at the same time in order to curl around one of them. As you predicted, your second victim is slow to correct for your move, and you’re able to tap a series of shots into a wing, causing an uncontrollable tailspin.

BOOM.

>>4112238
If we had gone against all reason and spent all money we'd ever make forever on the Saetosword, how long would we have had before Emerald kidnapped it to form a cult?

>>4112241
The last one is being cagey. You can see the orbital Mechaniloids trying to move toward you, and while they’re too slow to catch you now that you know they’re hostiles, the combination of needing to avoid them and the orbital defense shots is giving your last bogey much more room to maneuver. A few sprays of pulse shots sweep in your general direction, but this one appears to be sizing you up before making another serious attempt.

> Thin the herd of Mechaniloids
> Hunt the last pilot down first to take out the most immediate threat
> Turn your attention to the orbital defBOOM
> Ahhhh fuck.

File: This could have gone better.png (575 KB, 1280x390)

575 KB PNG

Ah shit. You didn’t see that one in time.

As you plunge toward the dark crystalline surface of Anubis, you rush to check the damage report and navigational shield integrity. Most of the tail has been vaporized by the defense cannon’s shot and the remaining thruster isn’t responding to controls. You’ll have to try and stabilize with the ventral thrusters, retro drive, and whatever you can get the wings to give you. One of the anterior LIFE cells has already failed and your hand rushes across the console to reallocate power, hoping to prevent a cascade failure in the serial chain.

The spinning is disorienting as you hurtle toward your doom, but your radar has scoped a few likely options. You can try to stabilize and glide down near the control tower, hoping that it hasn’t been compromised by Mavericks; alternately, you can attempt to hold out in the air a bit longer and go for an unpopulated flat bluff not far away - perhaps the safer option once you’re on the ground, but you’re not sure if you’ll make it there in one piece.

> Bring it in near the control tower
> Try for the safer landing on the bluff farther away

>>4112250
> Bring it in near the control tower

>>4112250
>Bring it in near the control tower
Safe is for civilians.

>>4112250
>Bring it in near the control tower

File: hunterandhunteraccessories.jpg (66 KB, 644x486)

66 KB JPG

>>4112243
He'd probably try to contribute to it in order to make it the best possible insane murder weapon it could be.

>>4112250
>Try for the safer landing on the bluff farther away
how else are we going to ambush that last aircraft and pilot it ourselves?

>>4112122
I think about this quest every day. I’m probably going to think about Anode for the rest of my life. I love the misericorde as a signature weapon, and I’m all jazzed up for grapple pack. The gritty minutiae of every piece of tech, the viscerality of every scuffle, and the sheer creativity of everyone involved combined into something that truly transcended this humble board. You two have a talent for suspense and villains that loom larger and run deeper than most despite their short appearances. This quest is an event, and I’ll be a fan for life.

File: twiddles mcthumbs.png (288 KB, 601x803)

288 KB PNG

>>4112294
...Goddamn. Thank you.

File: Spoiler Image (128 KB, 420x543)

128 KB JPG

>>4112250
>> Bring it in near the control tower
>>4112122
Over the course of 100 threads I've Dropped out of Uni, spent years working, Bought a house, went back to school and am getting married in 2 months
Been a long and wild ride guys
Here's to the next 100 Threads, I love you bastards
These threads are all ART

File: Thanode gets the first tw(...).png (560 KB, 907x509)

560 KB PNG

>>4112294
What this guy said.
>>4112314
Funny you should mention dropping out of uni, these threads are a large part of what kept me going when I dropped out due to a severe depressive episode.

I love this quest, and I love making/sharing shitposts about it. Memes are my life and it makes me super happy whenever I see someone post one that I made.

>>4112250
>> Bring it in near the control tower

First priority: Don't go BOOM.

File: the mhq experience.jpg (2.15 MB, 3200x2400)

2.15 MB JPG

>>4112314
>>4112420
I'm actually taking longer than normal to graduate from college, part of the reason for which being that HC's descriptions of his job have made me afraid of joining the workforce.

File: college dorm plasma globe(...).png (43 KB, 137x155)

43 KB PNG

>>4112594
Real talk, if there's any advice I can give you? Set your boundaries early. Even good companies will run you into the ground if you let them, and bad ones will constantly nibble away at your health and sanity and never leave room to recover. Fight burnout. Take your lunch hours, take your breaks, and don't let roles creep up and into your duties. Take care of yourself, because no one else can or will.

File: PC Plans.jpg (155 KB, 640x720)

155 KB JPG

>>4112250
>Try for the safer landing on the bluff farther away

File: Unidentified falling object.jpg (18 KB, 300x210)

18 KB JPG

>>4112261
>>4112262
>>4112266
>>4112314
>>4112476

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

Throwing caution to the wind, you decide you’d rather land clean and sort out the mess than roll the dice on a longer controlled flight. You snap on the retros and fiddle with the wing drives until your rotation slows enough that you can pull out of the roll and regain some amount of pitch. The ground is disgustingly close as you bring the nose of your Tetra up and angle for a controlled descent.

Unfortunately, the tail damage is too severe for your plan to fully work. What you’d hoped to make into a broad circling maneuver to reduce speed and altitude goes somewhat wide, and your hasty projection of new trajectory and landing velocity suggests this will still be messy. What’s worse, the remaining Draumur is heading your way.

Well then… fuck it. You can handle a crash, as long as it’s only a little one. You set your heading to miss the landing pad and aim for one of the lower service runways. The retros have given out; you have lateral thrusters, a bit of ventral, and your wing drives left. You pitch forward, the nose tilting down, then use the ventrals to gain altitude and crank hard on the lateral thrusters to drift into a spin as you skid down the runway. Your poor craft screams as it comes apart from the bottom up, but it looks like you’ve done it - your momentum has slowed enough that the resulting collision into a nearby hangar door is soft.

Well, relatively.

File: Well shit.png (24 KB, 240x160)

24 KB PNG

Banged up but no worse for wear, you open the canopy and gingerly slide down the side of what used to be your Tetra. Poor baby. The air is surprisingly warm, a far cry from the overall mood of the dark crystalline planetoid, and in the relative quiet you can hear the sound of a gentle river somewhere nearby. A few Spikys begin rolling down from the control tower to intercept you, and you can see Reploids in the distance boarding Ride Loaders. If you were hoping for fewer Mavericks on the ground, you hoped wrong.

Still, your current position offers you choices; a cargo monorail nearby would get you to the control tower, which could still have some holdouts to help you or radio equipment to contact Horus Base. Behind you is a hangar; there may be a spare Draumur you could hijack to get off this rock.

> All aboard for the control tower
> Try the hangar for something to steal
> Find a hostile Ride Loader and emancipate it from its pilot
> Other?

File: thattracks.png (88 KB, 365x211)

88 KB PNG

>>4112843
>All aboard for the control tower

Indy could probably wreck shop in a Ride Loader but I don't think it'd be a good idea to get bogged down. This is the past, but what's our loadout? I'm hoping we've at least got Frank.

Also, forgot this was a blue board. Whoops.

>>4112843
> All aboard for the control tower
To the radio!

File: India pls.jpg (258 KB, 1148x1088)

258 KB JPG

>>4112890
As she was on a patrol route, India is only equipped with the standard survival pack for an Eleventh pilot--her service pistol and a small knife.

The knife is metal, not beam, and built to be versatile in both survival and, if necessary, combat, but India is no melee fighter.

Her service pistol chambers special anti-Reploid solid projectile rounds designed to avoid rupturing a hull. India has customized it heavily, producing a higher-grade combat armament.

In true desperation, she could also use... that.

>>4112843
>All aboard for the control tower

>>4112122
I'm still working on tweaking the tabletop system but it's been slow because real life shit. I keep my eyes peeled on /qst/ mostly for MHQ, just so you know. Keep up the great work and I'll be here. Also, who here got the Z/ZX collection?

>>4112843
>All aboard for the control tower
Speed's important here, but I'd first like to know what we have for a loadout: we may need to jack a ride to give us something to work with. Could that include rigging the Tetra to blow or pulling some weapons out of the wreckage? Might be viable, throwing out suggestions.

>>4112937
>In true desperation, she could also use... that.

What, her sense of decency?

>>4112962
Her whatnow

File: SCARED.jpg (51 KB, 292x278)

51 KB JPG

>>4112937
>In true desperation, she could also use... that.

>>4112937
>In true desperation, she could also use... that.
Nani

File: Dash Dodo except not scra(...).png (765 KB, 664x1000)

765 KB PNG

>All aboard for the control tower

Seems like the best bet to make.

Also, congrats on 100 threads! I'll have to doodle something for the occasion.

>>4112843
>> Try the hangar for something to steal

File: Techpriest cadre honors t(...).jpg (43 KB, 640x914)

43 KB JPG

>>4112843
>All aboard for the control tower

>>4112838
>All aboard for the control tower

File: Let me be Blunt.jpg (18 KB, 214x300)

18 KB JPG

>>4112890
>>4112926
>>4112955
>>4112956
>>4113112
>>4113146
>>4113481

As tempted as you are to just hijack the nearest vehicle and start taking names, the Maverick presence seems substantial enough to warrant a stealthier approach.

Goddammit.

Feeling guilty as you use the wreckage of your Tetra for cover, you duck around to the loading ramp and narrowly duck the illuminating wake of a passing Hotarion. The monorail is already loaded with crates to provide cover, though you’re briefly startled into drawing your sidearm when you see a Gun Volt standing between the boxes. Fortunately, its optics are unlit - sleep tight, you ugly fucker. The load controller’s panel is nearby - easy enough to hotwire and transmit a recall signal.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTQaHpok5NU

The monorail begins its journey, crossing through a subterranean canal where you get a chance to see for yourself the strange red-blue pleochroism of the Anubis mineral strata, flickering and shimmering in the artificial light. The canal lets out to an overpass, and you can see the spotlights of Ball de Voux searching the terrain as a Bee Blader flies overhead. Nice try, dumbasses, but you have no plans to be caught by such an outdated hunk of scrap. Come to think of it, though… none of this is exactly cutting-edge technology, but that’s Earthside. Out here in the Mining Worlds, they should be counting themselves lucky to have any kind of autonomous equipment.

File: Solid plan.jpg (37 KB, 480x360)

37 KB JPG

>>4113838
“How the hell did any of this make it out of Earth orbit?” you mutter under your breath, picturing the names and faces of the least competent 11th staff you know and dreaming of ways you intend to do them harm for letting this happen.

As the train nears the station, you take stock of your new situation - there are a couple of Degravers talking to an ugly bearded bird on an equally ugly Ride Chaser, and a couple of Draumurs sweep the area above. At least two, assuming one of them was among the ones chasing you earlier. Nothing you can’t handle, but you might be in for a beauty mark or two if they get the jump on you. The train is drawing into the station now, and you can see the Degravers approaching, one in a Ride Loader, to unload some cargo. Blocks concealed on the ceiling don’t fool your expert eye - Bleckers, probably keyed to some nasty security protocol. Those you know better than to tackle head-on.

You’re indoors, so the air support won’t be able to respond immediately if you go loud, but that guy on the bike looked like more trouble than you’ve got time for. There’s likely a service elevator nearby if you were able to sneak past. You’ve got your sidearm and killer marksmanship to put down any Reploid opponent, and hey, there’s always your stupid tin survival knife that you could throw at someone to distract them. And that other thing - no, India, no. Never that. You’re better than that.

Or… there’s never been a better time to try something reckless and see where it takes you.

> Have a frank exchange with a nearby Degraver about which one of you should pilot a Ride Loader.
> Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.
> Find an empty crate and get in.
> Other?

>>4113842
>Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.
Can we put the knife on a slope to clatter into an empty crate? That might make them spend more time checking crates than the elevator.

>>4113885
You want to ditch the knife already? Or do you want to bait an ambush?

>>4113913
India's no solid snake. I didn't think melee was ever really an option.

>>4113842
>Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.

File: paranoia.png (174 KB, 700x700)

174 KB PNG

>>4113922
Actually, thinking on it again... This is too good a chance to pass up. Before, we were on the defensive, but now we can hopefully use this opportunity to seize the initiative and take out a variable that might complicate things later.

>Have a frank exchange with a nearby Degraver about which one of you should pilot a Ride Loader.

Show 'em what these things can REALLY do.

>>4113842
> Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.
Jacking a ride this soon would tip enemies off early. Not ideal.

>>4113842
>>Have a frank exchange with a nearby Degraver about which one of you should pilot a Ride Loader.

>>4113842
> Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.
Between Bleckers and bike guy, going loud seems a bit unfavorable

>>4113842
>> Use the crates to hide your advance, then sneak past to find an elevator without triggering security.

No need to go loud until we run out of other options. We're not exactly built for un-meched combat.

>>4113842
> Find an empty crate and get in.
I couldn’t not.

File: Shh it is stealth o'clock.gif (2.58 MB, 563x359)

2.58 MB GIF

>>4113885
>>4113922
>>4114141
>>4114230
>>4114250
Degravers are slow, and the one piloting the Ride Loader isn’t much good at his job. As he clumsily lowers more of the frame than necessary to pick up a crate, his head ducks out of line of sight. After a quick scan of the area, you slip out through in the shadows and make your way down the corridor. A helpful sign directs you toward Communications, though you have to duck back into a maintenance alcove as some Reploids come your way. Short, wide-eyed, and metal-skinned - ah fuck, Mondenkind. You hate Mondenkind.

Wait, that’s not fair. Everyone should hate Mondenkind. Why blame yourself?

The creepy childlike Reploids don’t even look down the corridor you’re hidden in. Four of them, and if you had to guess, they’re most likely the Maverick pilots. If you could split them up… you pat your pistol as you think. They can’t take you in a fight, but you’d need to catch them individually to prevent them from raising the alarm, and you’ve got bigger fish to fry. Checking again to make sure there aren’t any more moonbrats you’ve missed, you toggle the elevator and ride it to the 7th floor.

The doors open, revealing a large windowed space that looks out over the surface of Anubis. The Bee Bladers you saw earlier are still patrolling, though you don’t see any sign of a Draumur flying around. Someone nearby is talking, and you advance slowly to retain the element of surprise.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ktDE22c2Uw

The room is laid out on two levels; the upper level where you are, and a kind of operations pit with computer stations and air traffic monitors. A bizarre reptilian Reploid with large propellers joined to a jetpack on his back is haranguing a group of tied-up humans about the glory of whatever and the might of who cares. Doesn’t look like he’d be hard to take down, but you have to make sure there’s no one else covering the humans before you swoop in and gank him. Best to circle around up here, get more angles.

File: Sneak sneak sneak.jpg (58 KB, 814x548)

58 KB JPG

Your movement brings you close to an operations pod, where you find another human tied up, panic in his eyes as he sees you. You motion for him to be quiet as you crouch near him, service knife making short work of his bindings.

“I’m a Hunter, they shot me down, I need details,” you whisper to him. “At least four Mondenkind, counted five Degravers,” he opens his mouth and you shoot him a look, “not done, big guy on a bike, and the one down there. Now you talk.”

“Three of them the ringleaders,” he croaks; you wonder how long the shits left him without water. “The bird one, he used bombs to breach the security doors. That one down there, the snake, some kind of interfering cloud that jammed the Bleckers on us. They have a third, a flier, he’s got lasers of some kind.” You nod. He starts rubbing his wrists as he continues. “Six Moonchildren defected when the attack came, stole the patrol craft. Ten more destroyed. We thought they were here to help us.” a note of bitterness enters his voice.
“Anyone else down with him now?” He shakes his head. “Good. Here’s what I need you to do: get access to tower security. If you can find any other survivors, we’ll go get them when I get back. Once you’ve checked that, hide.”

“Back?” he hisses in a panic. “Where are you going?” But he’s talking to thin air; you’re already sliding down the wall into the operations pit, where the reptilian Reploid is gesticulating wildly and saying something about ruling over space.

“Hey there, beautiful!” you shout cheerfully. He turns. They always turn, suckers.

Your bullet catches him in the shoulder, the hollow point rupturing and causing his shields to flare. The snaky face contorts in pain as your new friend raises his good arm and shoots out a cable, latching onto a support pillar and pulling himself into the air. You fire another couple of shots his way, forcing him to swing awkwardly to avoid your fire. His cable, apparently not made for supporting his weight, snaps and drops him to the floor with a satisfying crash. You hope you won’t pay for that with more Mavericks coming up here to investigate.

Prioritize:

> He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.
> You’re surrounded by computers, find one that does something useful.
> He’s distracted and you have some time, free the humans so that they can get to safety.
> Other?

>>4114261
>>some kind of interfering cloud that jammed the Bleckers
I assume that means he could've jammed any ride we brought in, but it could also mean our own senses.

> He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.
We should keep a mental note on where the hostages are incase we go blind, but really pew pew is the quickest way we're taking him out.

>>4114261
> He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.

>>4114261
>He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.

We don't need a sensor-fucker out of our visual with time to do anything, and neither do these hostages.

>>4114261
>He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.

>>4114261

> He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack

Commit snek murder

File: snekbreaker.jpg (72 KB, 540x400)

72 KB JPG

>>4114261
>He's already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.

>>4114261
>He’s already separated from the hostages, stay on the attack.
Yeah, we don't know what actual weapons this guy has, wait to let the hostages out

File: Let's kick his asp.png (412 KB, 564x734)

412 KB PNG

>>4114268
>>4114282
>>4114284
>>4114292
>>4114373
>>4114551
>>4114573

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHb0aTwGdCc

You see the propellers rising up from over the bank of computers and aim your pistol at where his head should come up. You almost don’t hear the sliding sound from your left until it’s too late, but you leap aside just in time for a snake-headed cable to smash into the console next to you. As it retracts, you fire your shot to force him low.

“At least buy a girl flowers first,” you scold him. The next cable is already headed your way - now that you’ve heard it, you know the sound and can place the direction. You duck and roll, twisting away from where it bites into the floor and rushing to a closer position behind the next bank of computers.

“You’re outnumbered, Hunter,” he hisses back. “Anubis belongs to the Mavericks now. Surrender before I’m forced to hurt you.” His head raises and he spits some kind of clawed projectile your way, which you duck to avoid, snapping back up and plugging two bullets where his head just was. If he’s got to stick his neck out to shoot at you, you’re going to make him suffer for it.

“Check your math, luv. There’s only one of you, and I’ve already taken out the trash twice since I got here.” You’re not seeing an opening. Maybe you could try to snipe one of the propellers? Their frames look pretty damn solid. “I totally understand if you’re having trouble with the idea of subtraction, though, since you’re clearly more of an adder.”

He’s hissing again - easily goaded, you note with a smirk - and you’ve got a good read on which way he’s moving. You duck the other way, hoping to catch him off guard - but wait… ah fuck. That wasn’t a snake hiss, that was a gas release. Some kind of vermillion fog is filling the air between your position and his. You fire another bullet to try and wing him or at least provoke a reaction… and see it slow in midair, the fumes collecting around the bullet like condensing water vapor. It falls to the ground not six inches from you, coated in a kind of red jelly.

For a brief, giddy moment, you wonder if he’s literally jammed your shots.

“Useless, girl. Your gun can’t penetrate this defense - you were lucky the first time, but this will stop any bullet! And no, I am NOT an adder - I am Connect Viper, and you,” he pauses, gloating, “you are scrap metal.”

File: Third eye blinding.png (70 KB, 340x191)

70 KB PNG

time it catches you in the arm, wrapping and immediately lurching you toward him. You quickly drop your pistol and grab your knife, slashing at the connection as you use your other hand to hold onto a support pillar. Just a few more seconds…

The hissing returns and the fumes seem to thicken around you. The sidearm, wherever it is, is useless now. You’re really going to have to do that, aren’t you? You swore you’d never use it. This fucking snake will pay for this.

“Spoken for, I’m afraid,” you taunt him as you manage to sever the cable, “but I can still spare you a dance.” You can’t be sure whether his vapor obscures his own vision, but the best strategy is to assume he can see right through it and keep cover accordingly. You feel around for your pistol and roll into a seated position, firing down the aisle between computer rows. The bullet stops and drops, but all you were really looking to do was give him a sound to focus on. Sure enough, the next cable comes up and over - and you can trace it back to its source. You quickly leap out and - ugh, really? Yes, really, there’s no other choice, he can stop physical projectiles dead in midair.

You direct energy into your forehead and fire the Bindi Beam.

The red light cuts through the orange fog, a loud yelp signaling that you’ve hit the mark, and you continue to pepper the area with brief beam sweeps as you move back to provide cover to the hostages. Propellers whine to life, the fog dispersing as Viper raises up in midair, leg still smoking from where you hit him.

“Don’t throw a hissy fit,” you snark at him, sending another few beam shots at the flying snake. “There’s more where that came from. If you surrender now I won’t even tell them how much you sucked at your job, cross my heart.”

“Fool,” he howls back at you, “you have no support - Commander Sigma is one of us now! The Maverick Hunters as you knew them are no more! I will crush you in Sigma’s name!”

What.

Oh… oh they’ve been in space.

File: Disconnect Viper.png (164 KB, 260x587)

164 KB PNG

“You mean you didn’t hear?” you feign shock. “Sigma’s gone. Months ago.”

“What?”

You can barely keep the laughter out of your voice. “Yeah… X retired him. There was a whole war and it’s already over. How did you manage to miss an entire war?” Annnnd you’ve failed. Now you’re openly snickering at him. Is his cable actually drooping?

“I don’t believe you!”

“Sorry, luv,” you trace another beam across his chest as you tumble away from his counterattack. The cable is snaking your way again but this time you just lean to the side and let it sail past. “I guess you don’t watch a lot of news. Sigma’s rebellion is a lot smaller than it used to be - just three clowns in a space station and a handful of masspros who haven’t gotten the memo yet.”

“You’re lying!” he dives at your position, allowing you to catch him full in the face with your Bindi Beam. If he’s going to force you to use it on him, you’re going to make sure he gets everything that’s coming to him. “Sigma is the greatest Reploid in the world! Our mission is foolproof!”

You twist to avoid him and kick him in the side, causing him to collide with the computer bank. As he lies prone, you give a sympathetic nod. “It definitely proved you’re a fool, I’ll give you that.” You bring your gun up against his torso. “Anyway, you’ve been really sweet,” you say lightly, “but I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I’ll tell your friends you said hi!”

“The Mavericks will -” but what exactly they will is no longer his concern or yours as your bullet rips through his shields and the armor beneath. You leap away from Viper’s explosion and head over to the hostages, severing the cords binding them. Several of them have to be helped up by others.

“Someone who knows the orbital defenses, come help me shut them down,” you call to the humans. Your fight with Viper made a lot of noise and there’s going to be attention coming your way soon - you have to decide on your next move, and fast.

> The one on the Ride Chaser has control of the tower’s base. Need to eliminate him first.
> The unseen flier could hit you from anywhere, anytime - best to go after him before he knows you’re coming.
> Other?

>>4114746
>The unseen flier could hit you from anywhere, anytime - best to go after him before he knows you’re coming.

As for the tower, can any of you set some traps to keep yourselves safe for a bit?

>>4114746
>Is the guy in the Ride Loader still around?
>If so, take it and go after the Ride Chaser guy
>Otherwise deal with the laser flier

>>4114746
> The unseen flier could hit you from anywhere, anytime - best to go after him before he knows you’re coming.
I really want to leave the flier for last, because that seems the best final opponent for India, but it's never good to choose drama over tactics. Oh well.

File: tumblr_p9fle7LMv11qzgfpdo(...).jpg (179 KB, 600x564)

179 KB JPG

>>4114746
>The one on the Ride Chaser has control of the tower's base. Need to eliminate him first.

I almost feel bad for these guys.

Almost.

>>4114746
> The one on the Ride Chaser has control of the tower’s base. Need to eliminate him first.

>>4114746
>The one on the Ride Chaser has control of the tower's base. Need to eliminate him first.

>>4114746
>The one on the Ride Chaser has control of the tower’s base. Need to eliminate him first.
bombs sound bad for collateral.

Really? The BINDI BEAM? Honey, hybridize that weapon into literally anything else.

>>4114940
Hence why she was embarrassed.

Also, just a disclaimer, that was NOT my idea. That one comes right from Hunter Command.

>>4114983
Sure, blame Command.

File: Because I'm a huge jerk.png (205 KB, 350x410)

205 KB PNG

>>4114784
>>4114792
>>4114824
>>4114828
>>4114901
>>4114940

Voting closed, post being prepared. Won't be posted until tomorrow, unfortunately.

File: That's where you fucked up.jpg (79 KB, 1280x720)

79 KB JPG

>>4115270
...or I'm wrong and I have a post done and ready to fly.

File: But where's the save poin(...).png (561 KB, 835x470)

561 KB PNG

>>4114792
>>4114824
>>4114828
>>4114901
>>4114940

The humans are already manning stations, gathering first aid kids, and otherwise occupying themselves with regaining control over tower functions. You see the first guy you rescued waving at you and head over.

“A few pockets of survivors around the perimeter,” he indicates spots on a map of the facility. “Not sure why they’re keeping hostages, unless the defectors are worried we might have security codes they need for the underground equipment - which,” he looks slightly smug, “we do. Trouble is, they don’t have the manpower to keep us all under watch or supplied. If you’d arrived much later, this would be a really ugly situation.”

“I’m a grounded pilot facing at least ten Mavericks on a remote planet with no backup, luv,” you note drily. “I think we can safely say this one missed its beauty sleep. Did you get into the security systems?”

He grins, tapping the screen to change to camera feeds from multiple locations. You see a number of Reploids awkwardly avoiding pulse shots from activated Bleckers. “Barbato and Viper brought a lot of the modern Mechaniloids with them hidden in a parts shipment, but Earth has kept us pretty up to date on our security protocols. The Degravers are having a rough go of it, and as for the Moonchildren,” he toggles another feed, showing the small alien-looking Reploids trapped behind a number of Bar Wayings in a corridor, “none of them have any weapons to solve their way out of that one.”

“Barbato, that’s the bird?”

“Bomb Barbato, yes. Vulture Reploid, ex-Hunter, nasty sort. Thinks everything can be solved with explosions.”

Man after your own heart, that. Shame. “Can he fly?”

“Fly, I couldn’t tell you. Not that I’ve seen, at least. This one, though--” He toggles to a profile of another avian Reploid. “Rays Phoenix. A tractor beam specialist and gravity manipulator. Part of Laser Dragon’s forces during Sleeper 17.” You raise an eyebrow quizzically. “Before your time? Forget it. Told people he’d been affected by a virus or NOME or something. More common in those days, though I don’t understand how he ever got clearance to come back to space. Dangerous flier, watch out for him. He’s the one that sabotaged the base systems for the initial attack.”

“Can’t deal with him until I get to a ship,” you point out, “and that means dealing with meals on wheels down there. Is there anything in the station that I could fly?”

“There’s an onsite hangar down this corridor,” he tells you, flipping back to the map. “It’s pretty exposed down there, unfortunately, and he’s definitely faster than you as long as he’s got that Ride Chaser.”

File: He's got a short fuse.png (391 KB, 340x510)

391 KB PNG

“Leave that to me,” you boast cheerfully. “Just wait for my signal - and when you get it, toggle the self-destructs on the Bleckers.” He looks at where you’re pointing on the map and his grin redoubles.

The elevator doors open to chaos - Degravers awkwardly trying to stumble out of range of the Blecker shots as the Ride Loader picks them up to crush and disable. Spinys roll around throughout the hallway, colliding with the Ride Loader and knocking it away from its intended targets. Barbato isn’t helping the situation, lobbing grenades wildly from far down the hall in a reckless attempt to clear the lower floor of security elements. Everything is technically in place for your plan to work… provided the Ride Loader is knocked just a bit closer to the wall. You give it a moment for the next collision, then shoot three rounds down the hallway.

“Any of you boys looking to show a girl a good time?”

The Degravers turn, optics narrowing as they leave off attacking the Bleckers to throw pickaxes at you. You’re already moving, shooting one square in the abdomen and causing considerable damage. Two more shots blow the arm off another one. There are more than you were hoping to see, but you think the extra traffic will be useful in providing cover. You can see the menacing red light of the Ride Chaser down the long hallway turn blue as it begins accelerating toward you. The Degraver operating the Ride Loader picks up another Blecker to crush. You look at the camera and give a thumbs-up.

BOOM. All of the security blocks explode, clouds of smoke mingling to reduce vision in the immediate area. You can hear the Degravers cursing as shrapnel flies their way, but anyone aiming attacks at where you were standing is going to be rudely disappointed - you’re already over by the wall, jumping and kicking off to land on the back of the Ride Loader. Unlike a Ride Armor, this is a labor vehicle and has no protective canopy, which is why the pilot isn’t at all prepared when you point your pistol at the base of his neck and shoot once to remove his head.

The rest of the body still has to be pulled out, of course.

“You know,” you grunt at the Degraver’s remains as you drag them out of the cockpit, “I think our recent weight loss program has shown some good results, you’re definitely looking better than you were before, but there’s--” you hoist with your legs, goddamn these things are ungainly, “--Still improvement to be made.” You pitch the rotund Reploid’s body over the side and drop into place, seizing the controls and pivoting to face the blue light that’s cutting through the obscuring smoke.

Time to show this Maverick the difference between a driver and a pilot.

File: Could you come with me sir.jpg (42 KB, 640x426)

42 KB JPG

You slam the drive pedal, lurching forward at speeds the Loader was never intended for. Lifting arms pitched low like jousting spears, you maintain your heading as you clear the smoke, manic glee lighting your face as you see the shock in the approaching vulture’s eyes. You’re careening towards a head-on high velocity collision.

Or would be, except at the last moment you slam the loader arm controls straight down, the sudden momentum vaulting the heavy machine off the ground just enough to clear the front of Barbato’s Ride Chaser and smash straight into the Maverick driving it. You hear the Chaser fly past and explode as it collides at full force with the back wall. You also hear a strange beeping ah fuck no.

You barely clear the cockpit as the Ride Loader’s sides explode, landing in an ungainly tumble that rewards you with more than a few dents and scrapes as you get to your feet. Barbato’s already airborne in the corridor, grenade launcher trained on you and a trio of arachnoid bomb drones crawling your way.

“That was my favorite ride,” he snarls. “You’re dead, bitch.”

“I hear you, you’re angry, but can I be frank with you?” you ask, hand going to your holster. His face scrunches up in confusion. “I think -” and then you fire two shots into his arm, causing it to explode as the loaded grenade triggers. He slams back into the wall, glaring daggers as he raises the other arm. “I think,” you finish, “that if that’s your taste in vehicles, you might need a better hobby.”

He lobs a couple of grenades behind you, raining debris where they hit the ceiling. The drones continue their advance, scuttling forward quickly. You can try to finish this in the hall, or see if you can outrun him all the way down to the hangar to tip the scales in your favor.

> Cover is more valuable to you, stay in the controlled battlefield
> If you could reach a ship this would be game over for him, take the risk and run for it
> Other?

>>4115422
> Cover is more valuable to you, stay in the controlled battlefield

We got an unknown flier that can manipulate gravity on the prowl, and that could slow down any ship we can get enough to get bombed out of the sky, I'd reckon. Best to keep the planes safe and deal with the vulture here.

>>4115422
>If you could reach a ship this would be game over for him, take the risk and run for it.

This groundpounder shit is, ironically, for the birds. It might be a gamle, but I think it's riskier to duke it out with a pissed-off ossifragger. Better to make for a ship and get in our element.

>>4115422
> Cover is more valuable to you, stay in the controlled battlefield

>>4115422
>Make a run for the hanger
Im less on the ship and more on getting somewhere with less cover. As dangerous as the bombs are, if his weakness is just shooting his bombs before he throws them then a feint for a ship and a clear line of sight is all we need.

File: once India is mass produced.jpg (111 KB, 728x1049)

111 KB JPG

Good work as always you guys. Been a crazy hundred and I hope we get another crazy hundred more. Have something that reminded me of India's "special" weapon

>>4115422

Changing my plan to >>4115471: we feint him to death. He seems eager to keep us pinned, so if we can manipulate him into exposing his weakness then we should go for that. That said, stick to indoors: we don't need the flier coming in for backup. I also think the hangar isn't the best location, so if we can think of a better location to engage him in then we should lead him that way. Those spider drones are gonna be trouble if we don't stay on the move.

>>4115480
Anode can never know about the Bindi Beam. Or Emerald. we cant even imagine a jokepacolypse of that magnitude.

File: 1491318260730.png (624 KB, 901x463)

624 KB PNG

>>4115389
don't fuckin fake me out like that
that's not the Cain Labs way

>>4115536
The Buster Bindi Beam's pretty respectable, I mean, Sigma had one..."respectable" may not be the optimal term but still

>>4115422
> If you could reach a ship this would be game over for him, take the risk and run for it

File: LÄMP.png (224 KB, 701x448)

224 KB PNG

>>4115556
That one's my fault, I went out to see some friends before the proofreading was done.

>>4115422
>Cover is more valuable to you, stay in the controlled battlefield

Voting closed, writing.

File: I picked the wrong day to(...).jpg (110 KB, 1600x1149)

110 KB JPG

>>4115439
>>4115471
>>4115484
>>4115797

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ybY00x49B4

Pivoting to fire, you see your bullet vaporize on his shields, barely causing a flicker. He retaliates by snap-firing a grenade your way, which you fail to pick out of the air with another bullet. You reach for a reload as you consider your options, leaping aside to avoid the shrapnel as the grenade blows.

You need a ship.

You leap out with a hand to your ear and a smirk on your face. “Sorry luv, my reinforcements are here,” you bluff, and the hulking bird Maverick turns to look behind him, following the direction you’re pointing. Wow, that should not have worked, but at least now you know he’s that stupid. You’re already running as you hear his angry footfalls behind you and see grenades fly past, forcing you to climb up on crates and jump to avoid them. You hear flapping wings getting closer, and you’re not quite close enough to the hangar door. Worse, you can see more bomb drones infesting the hallway ahead of you.

“Die!” comes Barbato’s voice from behind you, and you leap away from the crate, plunging down toward the bomb drones, narrowly escaping the vulture’s grip as he flies past overhead. He doesn’t have the clearance to execute a proper turn in this corridor, which buys you a bit of time, but the bombs are crawling your way from every angle. The Bindi Beam might work to disable them, but that still leaves you with a big ugly bird blocking your path.

And you have a better idea.

You jump the advancing ring of spidery drones and run straight at Barbato, firing a couple of bullets at his face. They register no damage, but it’s definitely annoying him. He’s more than happy to dive at you in response, coming in full throttle. You wait until he’s as close as you can get him, and then activate the Bindi Beam right in his eyes as you hurl yourself toward the wall, kicking off to just barely clear the air over him.

File: Give him the bird.jpg (17 KB, 288x450)

17 KB JPG

Bomb Barbato howls with rage as he collides with the floor, crushing several of his drones and inadvertently detonating others. You look at the column of smoke, hoping that’s done him in, but a pair of snapfired grenades fly toward you and a trio of red drones, moving much faster than the old ones, approach from the walls and ceiling. Goddammit. It was a good idea, but back to Plan A. You pop a couple of bullets in his direction, hoping to slow him, as you make a break for the hangar door, reaching it and punching the access panel to open it as quickly as it can.

You hear him coming behind you as the doors slide open, and you quickly squeeze through, not wanting to waste a second. The hangar lights flicker on, revealing a few grounded Geimköttur, some Scrivers and Scramblers, a few Draumur…

Oh sweet Helen Sharman they have a Martröth.

Your mind floods with uncertainties - does this one still have the factory defects? Would they have brought a defective craft out to a Mining World? Why wouldn’t a Mondenkind be flying this thing if it were in service? - but mainly you’re uncertain what took you so long to get into the cockpit. You tap on the lateral thrusters, feeling a shiver of delight when the ship slowly pivots toward the hangar doors, and as Barbato bursts through the opening you fire the skotonic blast cannons right into his fucking face, two pitch-black jets of energy taking him out clean.

You toggle the comms. “This is Maverick Hunter India to Anubis Control. Control, do you copy?”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3SS94qc_JO8

The Martröth lurches awkwardly as the cockpit fills with blue light, and you feel a momentary sense of dread as it pitches unsteadily, scraping the side of another ship. You look out to see another bird Reploid, paneled wings radiating that infernal glow in your direction.

“I copy,” purrs a smug voice through the comm.

> That’s a neat trick - but how will it handle full-power engines?
> He’s using his wings to produce that effect - pop the canopy and shoot him with your pistol
> You’re not sure this thing’s fully operational - but you can improvise something he won’t anticipate
> Other?

>>4116213
so uh, what's a Martröth do?

>Throw some loose scrap, see if and in what direction they get caught by the tractor beam
I'm curious if his weakness is just drawing in solid weapons and bombs.

You're in an indoor hanger, looking at a bird reploid staying perfectly still with wings spread out. I'm leaning on just unloading all the dakka we have on hand, but something tells me the tractor beam will fizzle plasma.

File: human ace vs maverick masspros.webm (2.23 MB, 854x480)

2.23 MB WEBM

So those first two guys seem pretty crap for unique animal type combat Reploids. What are they, C-class? D?

>>4116213
> You’re not sure this thing’s fully operational - but you can improvise something he won’t anticipate
>He's connected to your comm channel. TAUNT.

>>4116213
>> That’s a neat trick - but how will it handle full-power engines?

FULL POWAH!

File: It moonlights as a black (...).jpg (131 KB, 1093x731)

131 KB JPG

>>4116221
The Martröð is an Icelandic spacecraft model that's the next generation up from the Draumur. It's equipped with skotonic weaponry, which is very hard for conventional equipment to locate and avoid as skotons absorb light. Very few are in service, as the line was a bit ambitious for its time and the stock model had numerous defects. Working ones with customized repairs are better craft than your Tetra.

>>4116213
>You’re not sure this thing’s fully operational - but you can improvise something he won’t anticipate

>>4116222
Activate Shittalk.EXE

File: punchkickit'sallinthemind.png (182 KB, 400x400)

182 KB PNG

>>4116213
>You’re not sure this thing’s fully operational - but you can improvise something he won’t anticipate

I don't know if that smugness is because he knows something about the ship we don't, or if it's because he's just smug in general... But I don't like it.

Wipe that smug off of his face.

>>4116213
Supporting >>4116222. Fill his comms with us laughing at his dumb ass. We're not trapped in here with him, he's trapped in here with us.

If he's using his tractor beam to pull us in, what's to stop him from tractoring in projectiles?

File: I have an excellent solution.jpg (105 KB, 1280x704)

105 KB JPG

>>4116221
>>4116222
>>4116379
>>4116701
>>4116931

Well, shit.

You weren’t expecting to be caught in a grounded and possibly busted ship by a Maverick capable of trapping you in midair, and you admit to yourself that this could have gone better. Judging from his position, he knows the effective arc of the primary blast cannons, since he’s keeping himself well out of it. Even if you tried to shoot past him, you couldn’t hit anything that might impact him.

Not wanting to chance the engines, you quickly consider your options; a couple of taps on the console confirm that this thing doesn’t have any missiles loaded, so that’s out; the hardpoints have nothing loaded; the guns have the same issue as the cannons. There’s a bomb, but at this range... Sensors, scatter field, retros, antigravitic drives, all in good order; if only you…

Fuck it. You’ve got a bomb.

File: This is just how I takeoff.jpg (98 KB, 1200x630)

98 KB JPG

You punch in the order and the ship protests, but you hit the override and the bomb deploys, rolling out and dropping to the ground. Interesting… looks like this Maverick’s trick has limitations. His eyes follow it downward.

“Is that…”

“It is!” you sing cheerfully.

“Are you insane? We’re in an enclosed bay!”

“Not for long!” You jam the trigger and the bomb goes off, propelling the Martröth into the air. The blue light winks out and you quickly snap on the engines, roaring forward and rolling to stabilize. There must be a door in here somewhere. You just have to find it before you crash into a wall.

Behind you, the bird Maverick gets to his feet, paneled wings spreading out once more as the blue light swings forward. This time it doesn’t catch you - it grabs up a nearby cargo crate, which launches toward you from 6 o’clock. More debris follows as he approaches. Doesn’t look like he can fly while he’s engaging that gravity beam, though. That’s something. You fire the blast cannons as you yaw toward what looks like a sealed aperture - BOOM.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgNGtGI-XbM

Success! The Martröth flies free, over the crystalline bluffs of Anubis, and you tap the comms on to try the humans again.

“Anubis Control? This is Maverick Hunter India. I’m piloting a Martröth and there’s a hostile on my tail; I think it’s Phoenix.”

The comm crackles and a man’s voice comes through. “Anubis Control, we copy. Registering three Draumur entering airspace, refusing hails.”

“Stand by on ground cannons. If you see bees coming, swat ‘em for me, would you?”

“Copy.” Excellent. That will give you some cover fire, now where’s that bastard gotten to?

File: Laser I don't even know her.jpg (48 KB, 512x288)

48 KB JPG

A barrage of lasers plunges down at your canopy, forcing you to yaw to catch the last few on the wing surface. He’s already caught up with you, paneled wings spread wide and a blue glow washing through them like a broken disco ball wrapped around a neon light. You pitch up, but somehow he’s matching you, getting ahead of you, spraying lasers as he goes. You roll and drop, pitching down sharply, and still the bird is keeping pace.

Your comm crackles. “A Reploid pilot? How foolish. It takes wings to truly fly.”

“I know,” you tell him, “that’s why I stole a pair.” You fire the blast cannons, black beams ripping through the sky as the bird Maverick rises to avoid them, retaliating with his own lasers.

“This is the problem with humans. They could have given you everything you wanted, like me. Instead they made you like them. Weak and grounded.”

“Yeah, well, look what they made out of you. A real cock.” You switch off the antigrav to dodge his next salvo, then roll and pitch down to get him in line and fire, lighting up his shields.

“You’ve already lost, Hunter. Sigma himself set us this task. Already he will have conquered Earth. Join us - join your own kind.” He breaks off the attack briefly, hovering in midair, apparently giving you time to consider. You bank around for the next run at him, aware that the enemy craft are drawing closer. The tower’s cannons start to fire as you size up your next move.

“Didn’t realize my job was delivering news to garbage,” you counter, “but you know your boss, yeah? X retired him. Ages ago.” Still satisfying the second time around, though he doesn’t flip out like Viper did. His lasers snap toward you as you come - and then the blue light flashes out, arresting your movement and catching you dead in midair.

“No matter,” he smirks. “Xenarthra came to power, then Dragon, then Sigma. Perhaps this is the hour of Rays Phoenix. But not for you, sadly.” He raises his arms toward his own paneled wings. “Your time in the sky is up, I’m afraid. You could never hope to compete with a real flier.” His lasers activate, refracting off the mirrored panels to bombard your Martröth with a hundred smaller rays. You can’t even look out the canopy, the onslaught of light is too great. Instead, you look down at your monitors. You grin.

File: Brought enough for the wh(...).jpg (28 KB, 350x263)

28 KB JPG

“A real flier? Let me tell you about a real flier. A real flier puts mobility over cheap tricks.” You fire the blast cannons, which pass harmlessly beneath him but draw his eye. “A real flier doesn’t need to fuck with gravity in order to stay airborne.” You add the guns to the mix, a salvo that can’t reach him but comes much closer.

BOOM.

Phoenix plunges out of the sky in a cloud of smoke and debris, the ship lurching forward and down in gutwrenching fashion as you find the ground coming your way much too quickly for the second time in the same day. This time, though, your ship isn’t missing its tail, and you pull out of the dive and slow for a vertical landing, jumping out of the cockpit to approach where the Maverick has collided with the ground. Blue light flickers and hums through the shattered glassy wing segments as his torso lifts and drags slightly. He looks up at you, disbelieving.

“Oh yes, last thing, important tip: a real flier knows to avoid surface-to-air guns.” You train your pistol on him and fire, glad to have had a frank exchange with a tryhard about his flaws. Patting your trusty sidearm - and privately resolving to never be forced into using the Bindi again - you walk back toward the control tower, hoping the humans have sorted out the rest of the Maverick issues.

A short time later, you’re in Astro Cygnus’s office on the Lamp, the big bird clearly impressed with the ship you salvaged and your overall mission effectiveness. At least five Mavericks retired by your count, several rogue Mondenkind retrieved from Anubis Station, and the mining world back on its feet. You expect to get a nice chunk of Zenny for this one.

“I have to say, Lieutenant, this was exemplary work. You’re going to receive a commendation in your file. I’m also going to - “

>>4117034
RIP Barbato. If he wasn't dead yet he certainly is now.

File: There goes her dream.jpg (26 KB, 640x640)

26 KB JPG

You blink, snapping out of your memories and back to the present. What did he say?

“I’m going to have to send you down,” Cygnus says sadly. You snap your head up to look him dead in the eye, daydreams of last year’s epic mission clearing out as your cold new reality dawns on you.

“Send me down? Earth?” He nods. “Why?

“There’s just no call up here for an officer with your skillset. We haven’t had a major disturbance at any of our patrol points in, what…”

“Ten months,” you calculate bitterly.

“About that, yes. Maybe a few things more recently, but you take my point. The Hunter Killers severely damaged our numbers on the surface. They need you more than we do.”

You feel hollow, your mind registering the sensation of freefall as your thoughts race. “Where am I going? 7th?” You know the answer already; you hate the answer, but you need this bit of hope. Cygnus kills it dead with a shake of his head.

“I tried, India, I really did. Flaminglow won’t budge. I spoke with Commander Frog of 4th Overland - “

“The GROUND POUNDERS?!” You’re in his face like he doesn’t have four feet on you, fuck rank and deference. “You can’t do that to me!”

“I talked with Frog. He’ll make sure you have access to aircraft down there. Needs you to help with sorties.” He reads your face and his tone hardens slightly. “It was this or rescind your commission. Listen to me, Frog’s more accommodating than you realize. You’ll be surprised at how well you’ll fit in down there.”

Down There. The two words like a death sentence. The next day you’re on a shuttle headed Down There, your heart sinking further with every lost kilometer of altitude. You can’t remember if you did anything else yesterday, spoke to anyone, said any goodbyes. You don’t remember what you packed or what you left behind. For the first time in your life, you don’t feel like a real flier.

But you will not let them know that. You will not let anyone ground you.

File: So many heroes to traumatize.jpg (69 KB, 850x520)

69 KB JPG

That's one time hop down, but plenty of other options to go. Which other story shall we explore?

> A second chance making his first impression
> An immovable force facing an unstoppable object
> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
> A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
> A student of destruction forced to face the master
> A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
> A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down

>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
Is this Valdivieso?

>>4117088
> A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear

We better get to play through all of these.

>>4117076

Welcome to the Fourth.

>>4117088

> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king

>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power

Oh, splendid! If I thought we were doing more than one, I wouldn't have been taking up the file limit with my replies, though. Alas.

>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power
>>4117093
I think so

>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power

This is just Cain Labs telling Command that his new tie isn't working, right?

>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power

>>4117088
>A mother to monsters speaking truth to power

>>4117088
>> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king

>>4117088
God damn did I love that one.

> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
Schwarz? Voting for this either way.

>>4117029
A BOMB
https://youtu.be/L_qMLL7KyjA?t=13

>>4117159

You think HC has /power/ over Cain Labs??

File: Hunter Command forces Cai(...).gif (1.91 MB, 640x480)

1.91 MB GIF

>>4117781
It's been known to happen.

>>4117781
I don't kinkshame.

>>4117088
Is the Mother of Monsters the Commander who commissioned the Mortales? Is the Brother putting his life on the line Emerald, or Schwarz?

Going to be interesting trying to figure out who is what.

>>4117781
I've seen how the two interact, HC definitely has power of CL. A power to rival Metal Gear.

File: Whose ass must I kick.jpg (96 KB, 1280x720)

96 KB JPG

>>4117093
>>4117116
>>4117128
>>4117128
>>4117159
>>4117166
>>4117170

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9w-O60x1bYk

The doors open, and you stride into the room, ignoring the sea of devices raised up on either side, ambitious citizen journalists globalizing the search for a sign of weakness or an ounce of remorse in your expression. Waste of time, but if fools could learn, this whole exercise could have been avoided. Whatever word they’ve chosen for it this time, you’ve already pegged it for what it really is. Theater.

They give you a seat off center, to make you seem lesser, situating you between a fat man in a too-new suit and a bright young thing in crisp military dress, who flashes you a false smile. You’re sure your attorney gave you the names of these fools and hypocrites who plan to explain why their naive optimism should be trusted. You couldn’t care less. Keep your smile, girl. Enjoy it while you can. That’s how we treat children, after all.

You take your chair behind a folded paper standee blazoned “Cmdr. I. Valdivieso,” scanning the faces of the 17 people who have convened this whole performance. He’s up there, of course, offset from center - like you - as though his damned creations weren’t at the crux of it all. As though he somehow isn’t responsible. Damned old fool.

A gavel taps lightly. “This special meeting of the United Nations Maverick Hunter Initiative Committee will now come to order. The matter under investigation is the Special Task Group and concerns regarding Order 7 for the development of its members.” You don’t bother looking around to see which of them is talking, your eyes boring into the skull of the man who isn’t.

“I understand we have Commander Valdivieso with us here today. I would like to invite her to make an opening statement at this time.”

“Leave it alone, Imanga,” your lawyer’s voice sounds in your ear. “It’s not a trial but it’s still on the record. Follow the strategy we went over.”

Will you make a statement?

> Yes, keep it brief and civil - for now.
> Yes, to register your protest.
> No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
> Other?

>>4118645
> No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
They didn't listen before, why waste the air?

>Damned old fool.
Dr. Cain?

>>4118645
>No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
Getting a look at MHQ Cain, cool.

>>4118645
> No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
Silence is a statement.

>>4118645
>No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
Valdivieso ain't nobody's bitch.

>>4118645
> No, don’t give them the satisfaction.
Incidentally, what's our take on our lawyer?

>>4118645
>No, don’t give them the satisfaction.

File: 4e78b2efaa2bcb5516b6f63ba(...).png (520 KB, 1639x1177)

520 KB PNG

>>4118645
>No, don’t give them the satisfaction
You'll have time enough to make all the statements you need today

>>4118645
>Yes, to register your protest.

File: Why do I take her cases.jpg (59 KB, 612x408)

59 KB JPG

>>4118878
You've known Lauren Moss professionally for half a decade, and she's considered to be quite good. She's proven effective in filing motions and pursuing injunctions when you need to pressure some section of international bureaucracy or other, even if she disagrees with your disruptive style.

Needless to say, this isn't the first time she's tried to talk you down from making trouble.

>>4118645

...So...for those of us whose MMX lore is weak, can we have some basic context for when this vignette is likely to be, and what we should know about Valdivieso coming into this?

>>4119661
She's one of HC and Cain's ocs, I think. Commissioned the Mortales

>>4119661
When Sigma went Mav, the Hunter organization was in tatters. While X was kicking ass, the Hunters as a whole were not doing so well. Then leadership was passed to the resident Reploids are Dangerous hardass, Valdivieso.

She had the Los Mortales made, a unit of extra strict assholes, then put the Hunters into working order. Nobody was really happy about it, but nobody really thought they could do a better job.

Not sure when we are right now, but the leader after Valdivieso was Wong, who had big shoes to fill and really didn't want the job.

>>4119661

>>4119685 is mostly correct save on a few points.

http://mhq.wikidot.com/people:imanga-valdivieso
http://mhq.wikidot.com/maverick-hunter-commander

Sigma actually came later.

>>4119685
Valdivieso helped found the Hunters and was the first commander. It sounds like Los Mortales aren't complete at this point so there's still some time before she steps down.

>>4119836
oh whoops, sigma came after Wong.

File: Death machines for dummies.jpg (234 KB, 1000x1355)

234 KB JPG

>>4118683
>>4118695
>>4118712
>>4118794
>>4118878
>>4118958
>>4119058

You say nothing, your stony gaze looking past the council at the back wall. The lawyer sighs in your ear, but you can tell this was better than she’d been hoping for. After a brief, awkward silence, the speaker resumes, and you tune him out as he goes into the background of the Maverick Hunters as an organization. You scan the faces at the dais; a representative from the African Union, the Russian Coalition, the European Union… America, of course. How many of them represent the same countries who rushed to be part of Order 7?

A series of screens descend around the room, and the fat man next to you stands, a reek of sweat stinging your nose as he shuffles papers with damp hands. The chairman of the whole farce introduces him as Dr. Someone from a university. As he activates the screens, you realize that this small nothing of a man is who they have chosen to prosecute you.

Poor fool, out of his league.

“The Order 7, uh, Initiative… it’s, and, there was a lot of money, of the budget…” he stammers, “that she, uh, Commander Valdivieso, she committed to these. This board, you members, the members, sorry, approved that budgetary requisition, and on the basis of certain standards.” He toggles the screens, showing blueprints of your chosen eight. “The preliminary findings of the, uh, the investigative committee, they found that Commander Valdivieso interfered in the…” he looks down, shuffling papers and pointedly avoiding your eye, “this bidding process, of the states that bid for Order 7. We have correspondence,” he presses a button, the screens shifting to show archival emails, “which indicates that the, uh, the Commander inappropriately favored certain bidders, certain bidders the ones, who accepted this document as part of the process.” He presses another button, and the Order 7 addendum appears on screen. The crowd murmurs, as though the wall of text is some dramatic turn and not regular discovery. You curse their stupidity under your breath.

“Imanga,” warns the voice in your head. An aide is handing out water bottles. You wave him off.

The chair recognizes another speaker, and the fat man drops into his chair, swigging the beverage greedily. He seems to sit straighter when he notices your gaze, and his head swivels away just a bit too far to regard the man who has stood.

File: Putting the class in clas(...).png (772 KB, 1280x528)

772 KB PNG

“This document, named as the Order 7 addendum and presented here as Exhibit B, specifies that bids would be given priority by the Maverick Hunter Commander based on two criteria not originally approved as part of Order 7,” the new man says. This one’s not a doctor, for whatever that means to these people. “Firstly, that their performance standards should, quote, exceed market and nonmarket comparables based on domestic guidelines. Secondly, that the personality matrix should include a specific hostile response to autonomous machines deemed capable of posing a threat to human life.” He pauses to let the crowd murmur, the gavel tapping to get things back in order. “I wonder, Commander, if you could tell us what is meant by nonmarket comparables based on domestic guidelines, this first part?”

You don’t know who this boy is to ask you a goddamn thing and expect a civil reply. Ms. Moss is hissing in your ear but you’ve tuned her out as well. If they want you to play along in this fool’s inquest, they’ve got another thing coming. You don’t so much as turn your head to acknowledge him.

“I thought not,” he oozes. “Just in case you might have forgotten what that language would indicate to the bidders, we’ve invited Lt. Col Annika Bell to explain how this proffer would be interpreted. Col. Bell, if you would please?” The bright young thing on your other side stands, flashing you the smallest of condescending looks before beaming brightly for the cameras. Pull faces at your elders all you like, child. Tell yourself you weren’t picked for your legs and your smile if that makes you feel more than you are.

“To be clear, members of the committee, members of the media, members of the public,” she begins, an empty shell coated in public relations expertise, “nonmarket standards refer to military standards, and domestic guidelines would mean the military requirements of the country in question. This memo here, which Commander Valdivieso had her bidders agree to, requires that they design Reploids above military-grade, to exceed military specifications and regulations.” Her face is large on the screens, so the crowd can see her act, the smile melting just fast enough, the eyes widening just sincerely enough. “This memo requires them to break national military limits on performance.”

File: Good thing they're on our side.png (840 KB, 1200x675)

840 KB PNG

If the crowd murmured for the other two speakers, now they’re rumbling properly. The gavel taps. “To the second point,” she continues, apparently uninvited but obviously preplanned, “the specific hostile response that was identified in this memo is a hatred for Reploids and Mechaniloids, no matter their function.”

“The addendum says they must be, quote, deemed capable of posing a threat. Surely not all Reploids meet this criteria?”

“Not as you or I would understand it, sir, but the definition was set by Ms. Valdivieso - Commander, I apologize,” you ignore the deliberate barb - “and per her definition, all Reploids and all Mechaniloids are a serious threat to human life.”

“And this hatred, is it a violent hatred?”

“Very violent, sir. The members of the Special Task Group have been cited in numerous complaints from the public for the way in which they operate. With your permission, we have some documented examples, which we would like to enter into the record as Exhibits C through J.”

“Proceed.” She walks around the desks to the front, sparing you a look that blends smugness and contempt as she takes the screen controller.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iXDuzqTATy8

The screens light up, each showing a different scene, and the room erupts into gasps and murmurs as cameras flash. Rush Chevalski, smashing through a skyscraper at supersonic speeds as he chases a Maverick, glass flying around him. Flash Rezador, cutting through a train and narrowly missing the passengers with his vibroblades. Glace Requin, freezing a harbour in Florida. Hotfoot Rabbit’s molten wake as he bounds down a city street to catch his prey. Dreadbolt Skunk’s lightning blacking out a section of London. Crash Cormorant… well, as you watch the footage of him brutalizing the wreckage of an already-downed Mechaniloid, even you can somewhat agree that it’s a bit much.

Scenes selected to show collateral damage, to highlight fear, panic, unintentional injury. Collected from the PAD cameras of a thousand civilian passers-by to concoct the worst kind of fraudulent journalism, naked sensationalism presented as sober review. You’ve no time for any of it.

The gavel hammers down now, commanding order. “Alright Imanga, this will be your turn now. Go over the presentation as we discussed. This is the best case you can make.” You stand, walking toward the dais. Lt. Col Bell puts her arm out as though to stop you, force you back to your position to make your case, but the look you give her could melt lead and freeze magma, and she pulls her hand back like you tried to bite it off.

The room goes silent. You have the floor.

> Fine, they want a show? Give them a show. You’re done with idiots, let them know it.
> Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.
> You won’t let them get your anger or force you to make excuses. Educate these fools.

>>4120587
>> Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.

They're banging the table. We don't have to.

>>4120587
> Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.

They're obviously expecting us to lash out, lets not give them that satisfaction
Let them all squirm under our cold spiteful gaze

>>4120587
>Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.

>>4120587
>Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.

>>4120587
>You won’t let them get your anger or force you to make excuses. Educate these fools.

>>4120587
>You won’t let them get your anger or force you to make excuses. Educate these fools.

Fuck 'em up.

>>4120587
>Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.

>>4120587
>>You won’t let them get your anger or force you to make excuses. Educate these fools.

File: Every division has its ow(...).jpg (262 KB, 720x1000)

262 KB JPG

>>4120587
>Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.

>>4120587
> You won’t let them get your anger or force you to make excuses. Educate these fools.

>>4120587
>Your lawyer’s laid out the best case from a command standpoint. You should know, you helped write it.

Don't concede a damn thing

File: If you won't step up then(...).jpg (25 KB, 894x480)

25 KB JPG

Your back is turned to the committee, addressing your remarks to the room. Printed sheets have a pleasant texture and realness to them, helping you ground your attitude. You’ve been over every word of this speech, and although you’d much rather give the fools the lecture they so richly deserve, Moss did her work well. You do not bother regarding the panel of children, peacocks, blowhards, and know-nothings they have assembled to indict your command, launching into the presentation with a will to pace yourself and keep your temper in check. You press a button on the podium, and the screens call up the images Moss prepared.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpMg1upld0w

“Two hundred years ago, Ray Bradbury wrote of a flying machine, the invention of which caused great fear in the Emperor of China. The land was protected by a Great Wall, and it was feared that those who saw the machine would make others like it, for terrible purpose, and the Wall could not stop them. The Emperor had the machine burned to ash, the inventor put to death. It was meant to be a wonder. It became a source of terror.” You pause, looking up from the paper. You know this next part by heart.

“We are the wall, and to date no machine has soared higher than we can defend against. Every day, however, the greatest scientific minds aim higher, never thinking what thing they might set in flight. The wall can only go so high before catastrophe. We race to respond to the newest threat, the most modern monster. We are reactive, as we must be if we are limited. We are reactive, and we are fortunate that we have been strong enough for what has come. It cannot last.” Performance reviews, year-over-year, scroll on the screens to your left. To your right, incident reports, organized by increasing severity.

File: Murderbots are fun for th(...).jpg (358 KB, 1200x511)

358 KB JPG

You harden your stare, letting your gaze burn the little girl soldier with her smug perfect smile. “Lt. Colonel Bell said it: my order was to build soldiers stronger than the best military Reploids made in Japan, in America, in England and France and Germany and elsewhere. The best military Reploids. This committee sees them as the peak of what a Reploid should be - they are afraid that I have gone beyond this limit. I see them as the measure of the next Maverick.” The screens display press releases from manufacturers, boasting of exceeding past performance, beating previous standards, setting new records in speed, strength, firepower.

The crowd bursts into murmurs, and your temper slips just a hair. “I am SPEAKING,” you thunder, the room going silent as cameras flash. “I am speaking, whether or not you will hear me. No make of Reploid, no developer, no laboratory has a perfect record. Any Reploid can become a Maverick. You have made machines of war and given them capabilities that will push my best human forces to the breaking point, if ever they should go rogue. I have responded as I am charged to do - I have made machines that can stop them, when the time comes.”

Your voice is cold and steely now, the words sharp and crisp. You will be heard clearly. This shall be marked for posterity. You will not have anyone claiming you were not clear enough, not thorough enough, when damnation comes to them in the form of their own creations.

“Innovation and progress. These you celebrate, you are proud of this. Very well. Remember, then, that with the resources you have given me, I made the most sound decision - Hunters built to today’s standards are already obsolete tomorrow. The Special Task Group is composed of Hunters who will defeat today’s threats, and tomorrow’s, and those in the days to come. I did not order them to secure the present. I ordered them to secure the future. That is my mandate as the Commander this committee saw fit to install - to secure the future. There is no regulation, no bylaw, no code, no clause, to call into question my authority to do this.”

File: Hand me the mic that I ma(...).jpg (128 KB, 1500x999)

128 KB JPG

Time to conclude. “You founded the Maverick Hunters to protect against a new threat to human life, to peace, to the global order. To do this, we must know that a new threat may come that is not within normal limits to protect against. What will we do when a Reploid becomes Maverick by choice? When it is more than one? When they organize, and now instead of criminals you have terrorists? This initiative is damned by good intention and feeble wills, that set limits on those who must protect people from the monstrous children of innovation and progress. I have acted upon my mandate, made good use of the resources you have provided, and this committee has no rule under which to sanction me.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FsWPSFsto5A

Papers fold in your hand. Back in your pocket. Silence in your ear. Darkness on the screens. You remember this moment, years later, just as you remember what came next. You remember…

> The bloody moment of vindication
> The day you left it all behind.
> The night you truly met the future.

>>4122509
>The night you truly met the future.
Damn, this is a tough choice. Both day and night are good.

>>4122509
> The night you truly met the future.
Its one thing to prepare for the future, its another to see if its enough. Time to see if thats the case.

>>4122509
>The bloody moment of vindication.

>>4122492
>peacocks
Interesting choice of species for a masspro diplomat model

>>4122509
> The day you left it all behind.
Though I think I recall the first option tying directly into her eventual stepping down...

>>4122509
> The night you truly met the future

>>4122509
>The night you truly met the future.

>>4122509
>> The bloody moment of vindication

Time to watch it all burn.

> This initiative is damned by good intention and feeble wills...

Actually, I think this initiative is damned, in large part, by having made a bunch of Reploid /assholes/...

I mean, really, is there anything about being better, faster, stronger, that means they also have to be meaner?

Also, CL, a question (though perhaps a dumb one): Has anyone tried making a Reploid with a dumb kill switch—like, a bit of hardware that will cut off their LIFE cell or some such thing if it receives the right RF signal, totally isolated from any of their own internal processes?

>>4122509
>The night you truly met the future.

>>4122890
>I mean, really, is there anything about being better, faster, stronger, that means they also have to be meaner?
It means that if they DO go mav, they'll just as likely kill other mavs as they will humans. It's hard to work together with people you hate, particularly when you lack impulse control as mavs tend to.

And kill switches, besides the obvious person rights violations, are the first thing any mav tries to remove.

File: Warhead Wisent.png (866 KB, 1260x810)

866 KB PNG

>>4122890
>I mean, really, is there anything about being better, faster, stronger, that means they also have to be meaner?
Now you're coming to the crux of it.

>Also, CL, a question (though perhaps a dumb one): Has anyone tried making a Reploid with a dumb kill switch—like, a bit of hardware that will cut off their LIFE cell or some such thing if it receives the right RF signal, totally isolated from any of their own internal processes?

The technology is certainly there for it--but it was hastily deemed unethical, and not long after, unlawful. Less dire such failsafes exist, such as weapon codelocks we've seen onscreen, and similar devices shared between Reploids who "look after" each other.

More advanced Reploids would boast sophisticated control over their own processes and systems in the name of bodily autonomy that any baked-in failsafes could be rather swiftly overcome.

>>4122890
To be fair, if they weren't assholes. chances are one of them might get fooled by a mock surrender and get attacked from behind and/or let the target escape to cause more trouble.

And I wouldn't want THAT particular egg to land in my face if I was the result of a multi-billion dollar project.

>>4122890
I can see the value in it. It cuts down on a lot of the issues X had in that day of Sigma video; hesitation to make the shot, alongside not being able to attack a friend. This was before the first Maverick war, so I could see hesitation being a issue for the first gen. If they just hate all reploids and mechanoids, it slims down methods to recruit them and more a risk than a reward.
Course, that creates a lot of issues. Not just what we seen, but the sort of personality traits that would be needed to match what Ms Valdivieso wants. Self Loathing due to one's nature, Elitism because they see themselves above the others, the lovely mix that is Rezador himself, and not seeing reploids as 'people'.
Hell, the 'self hating' part gives a good reason for why Dreadbolt has decided to become a drunk.

>>4122509
> The night you truly met the future.
I mean, even the chance that this is the time Valdivieso talked to Sigma makes the vote worth it.

>>4122509
>The night you truly met the future.

>>4122509
>The bloody moment of vindication

It's not enough to be right. You also have to gloat.

>>4122509
> The night you truly met the future.

>>4122509
>The night you truly met the future.

I'm intrigued to see what this means. X? Sigma? Someone else?

>>4123445

Commander Valdivieso meets Largescale Mustang.

>>4123682
That is a special sort of future I don't think Valivieso ever planned for or wanted.

File: Too old for this shit.png (119 KB, 650x400)

119 KB PNG

>>4122529
>>4122731
>>4122863
>>4122879
>>4122891
>>4123182
>>4123277
>>4123426
>>4123445

The call - THAT call - had come late in the afternoon. The call you’d been avoiding for three weeks. You’d already pegged it as some kind of angle, some kind of token acknowledgement for an old lady and a media coup for a young robot, and you’d be damned if you’d participate in a machine’s self-aggrandizing PR stunt. None of the others had ever tried to reach out - certainly not the idiot who named a medal in your “honor” but was too afraid to involve you in the process. You’d pity him more if his own failures hadn’t made his death inevitable.

This one… he’d made quite a stir in the media, to the point that you couldn’t miss it. Even the usual professional bile-spewers, the Reinhart Ngs of the world, didn’t seem to have it in them to do less than sing the new boy’s praises. Your personal assistant - oh, to be back in the days when you didn’t need one of those - had been keeping the jackals from your door, keeping cameras from shoving into your face, microphones from jousting each other to win your comment on the latest greatest from Cain and his tinker troupe. She told you about the call first; then it was Moss, reaching out to try and set up a connection.

In a moment of boredom, maybe, or curiosity, you allowed Moss to strike a deal. Since then, you’ve been avoiding the phone. You might not have even picked it up this time, only you’d been expecting to hear back from Moss about a private security license. You grabbed it without thinking, your customary greeting: “Talk.”

File: This year's model.png (472 KB, 824x499)

472 KB PNG

“Commander Valdivieso?” The voice you hear each time you shut off the datapad, walk away from the newsstand, remove yourself from the noise of the world you hoped would never come to pass.

“Speaking.”

“Good afternoon, Commander. This is Sigma. Your attorney said you would take a few minutes to speak with me?”

Well. There it was. Tell him no. Tell him off. Tell him he’s a monster born from an idiot’s dreams.

“What took you so long?” Brief. Cold. Not your fault, nor your problem.

“I apologize, Commander. I’ve been trying to reach you on Lusaka hours; your schedule didn’t come over to my office properly. Ms. Moss let me know that you’re in Ibarra presently, so I waited to call until a reasonable hour.”

From Geneva? Must be midnight where he is. Mind, machines don’t need sleep.

“Technical issues, is it?” you deadpan. He laughs, a rich and genuine sound. How much money went into making him sound that human?

“Yes, we could say that. I don’t want to impose on too much of your time, Commander; there were just a few things I was hoping to get your counsel on.”

“My counsel.”

“Your experience in this role. Commander Java provided me with her own perspectives, of course, but there hasn’t been a true military mind in this office since you left it.” He’s not wrong.

“I can give you a few minutes out of an old woman’s busy schedule,” you relent. “What do you need?”

“S-Class Threats,” he says soberly. “You had insight into the evolution of risk long before anyone would pay attention to you.” The boy has done his homework - not that it’s hard for a machine. “The number of incidents we’ve seen since… I doubt anyone has tracked the spread more closely than you have.” Correct, child. You’ve already placed your caller on that list. “I’m hoping you can help me develop the case for a threat class beyond those.”

Beyond?

You’ve had your concerns, of course, prepared countless personal observations, talked with those who would still give an ex-Commander the time of day. Nobody knew any of this, though. You clear your throat. “I’ve a few ideas. We had S for things beyond human ability. I had designed my top Hunters to keep ahead of the latest advances, but there’s no budget to keep that pace forever - eventually we would need an S+, things beyond the ability of any one machine.”

Looking back on the conversation, you remember that “when” is what sold you on this boy. What was supposed to be a quick consultation evolved over the next three hours, as he forwarded you data models and presentations suggesting your worst fears were just a drop in the bucket, asking you for targeted suggestions to evolve responses to these worst-case scenarios. You go over mandatory evacuations, international legal regimes, Measure 81 superweapons, OLEL countermeasures, restricted technologies. He even brings up several projects you didn’t think he knew about. At one point he pauses, hesitating just a moment.

“Commander, if I may ask - how would you kill me, were I part of an open conflict?”

You laugh openly. The perfect question. “Hold on, boy.” You tap your datapad and transmit the entire game plan, how to cleanly murder the most powerful robot in the world. You see him on the screen reviewing it.

“That was quick,” he muses.

“Had it on hand since you were built.” Your tone goes a touch provocative. “Does that concern you?”

“Not at all.” And strangely enough, you can hear in his too-human voice that it truly doesn’t - you hear relief, if anything.

He wanted to know someone has thought of it.

The call draws to a close, but he’s got one final order of business. “If I may, Commander, I believe you still have some friends you keep in touch with. Busy friends. Some of them spend a lot of time in the news - sometimes in disagreements with friends of mine.” The tone is a hair too polite to be anything other than what you think it is. “I don’t have their numbers, but I’d like to send you some transponders they could use to call me if needed.”

You nod. “And if they don’t want to?”

“It’s a long trip to Geneva,” he says genially, with just a hint of iron. “I don’t need them to visit, so long as they keep in touch. Let’s say seven days for them to let me know they’re doing alright.” A bit more iron. “And if one of those transponders should not be in service after seven days, you will have one fewer friend. Do you understand my position?”

“Perfectly. I’ll make sure they stop by.”

File: Get equipped with worthy (...).jpg (27 KB, 780x450)

27 KB JPG

He thanks you for your time, promises to call again, and surprisingly, you find yourself looking forward to it. You flashed back then, as you remember now, that inquiry, that farce of a show trial, ending dramatically and abruptly as Shade Tanuki appeared at your side. You had taken the remote from the sweaty man, switching the screens to show the horrific ongoing attack. The first word of the first S-Class Threat. That day, before the council and the world, you stood and delivered a single scathing question to the committee.

The new boy really did do his homework, as he calls you back to it. “Do I have your blessing, then, Commander Valdivieso?” Sigma asked, just a trace of mirth in that measured calm. You chuckled despite yourself.

“Commander Sigma, you have my blessing to do my goddamn job.”

Two stories told, but others yet to explore. What window into history shall we open next?

> A leader daring to challenge those who crown themselves king
> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
> A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear
> A second chance making his first impression
> A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
> An immovable force facing an unstoppable object
> A student of destruction forced to face the master

>>4124670
>An immovable force facing an unstoppable object.

>>4124670
>A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down
you guys are nuts

>>4124670
>> A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down

Let's go for this one this time.

>>4124670
>An immovable force facing an unstoppable object

Cain Lab isn't as think as you drunk he is.

File: Hi boss.jpg (401 KB, 1431x1149)

401 KB JPG

>>4124680
We try!

Also, imagine for a moment how the conversation with Rezador and Sigma went. Or the one with Cormorant.

>>4124670
>> A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down

>>4124744
I imagine those conversations are easier when you can legitimately bitchslap them through a skyscraper.

>>4124670
>A light in the darkness as the world comes tumbling down

>>4124670
> A second chance making his first impression
Conda?

>>4124670
> A student of destruction forced to face the master

>>4124670
>A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
This has gotta be one of the 'hunds

>>4124670
>A ray of hope for the future in an era of chaos and fear

>>4124670
>A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer

File: 1462915059464.png (138 KB, 372x365)

138 KB PNG

>>4124670
> A brother putting his life on the line in search of an answer
This one we've waited some time for

File: Now you've fucked up.jpg (1.88 MB, 1800x1800)

1.88 MB JPG

>>4125850
Indeed we have

Closing vote, writing.

>>4125850
Still think that one is Em, personally. He has been looking for Diamond's killer, after all.

>>4125929
I feel like that'd be too recent, though.

The furthest left field guess I'd have is that it's Protoman, but that's kind of got the opposite issue... Schwarz seems likely.

File: oh god my heart.jpg (276 KB, 800x671)

276 KB JPG

>>4125935
Don't hurt me this way.

File: Search and rescue.jpg (54 KB, 722x406)

54 KB JPG

>>4124680
>>4124701
>>4124754
>>4124848

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

“Scramble.”

You felt freedom when the command came, a breath of fresh air, an incongruous burst of hope welling up inside you despite the knowledge that people’s lives were in danger. A cloud of despair had settled around you ever since Bono’s betrayal, since your friend turned on his principles and became a mass murderer, leaving you mired in a web of suspicion, your wings clipped.

You are Lamplight Parrot, and today you have been given a chance to escape your fallen friend’s shadow.

African Union forces reported a Maverick attack in Lusaka which local police response was unable to contain. An all-too common story of late, since the world turned upside down. They’re fortunate that local command could spare three of you, though you suspect the commissioner had to beg and plead to get more than one. You’re probably only being dispatched because they wanted more support.

You meet up with Shocklight Fringe from the 7th and a Maori man from the 9th who introduces himself as Blue. Lusaka has a preset arrival point for Hunters, and the three of you beam over together.

What awaits is a calamity.

You look on the monitors to see that a skyscraper has toppled, and flying Mechaniloids are collecting debris and dropping it in the streets. Sirens blare as emergency crews zip around the city, air support meeting Jammingers and ground support dodging Spikys. It looks like the Mavericks have brought Bomb Beens to mine the ground. Cameras are tracking more structural damage every minute, and some of the screens have already gone dark.

“What the hell is any of this?” Fringe mutters.

Blue is already at the ops station, pulling up records and a map of the city. “AU air assets show en route to engage the Mechaniloids.” He fires up his personal buffer, an all-too-thin electromagnetic shield wrapping around him. “We can thin the herd first, but I see no Reploid on these monitors.”

“Something took down that tower,” you point out. “Bomb?”

“If it was, they must be out or there would be more damage by now,” Fringe muses. “So we’ve got to take out some of those Mechaniloids, locate the Maverick, and help the first responders with that downed building.” He looks at the two of you. “Any preference?”

You consider your capabilities; you’ve got powerful spotlights and a relatively decent flight system, though Fringe’s is considerably better. Offensively… your primary armament, the Scrap Seed, lets you fire an accreting pellet from your mouth that will absorb loose debris to form a solid projectile. It’s not great, but given the state of the city, you won’t lack for ammunition. Your buster, a basic P260 calibrated for humidity and heat, is little better than a sidearm.

> I’ll scout to locate the Maverick
> I’ll go help the first responders
> I’ll sweep the Mechaniloids

>>4126050
>I'll sweep the Mechaniloids.

>>4126050
> I’ll go help the first responders

>>4126050
>>4126050
> I’ll go help the first responders
I think given his tool set, We'll be best at dealing with the mines and ground mechaniloids.

>>4126050
>I’ll sweep the Mechaniloids
I think taking the debris right out from the mechaniloid grabbers will prevent more damage in the long run.

>>4126050
>I’ll go help the first responders
Collect all the fucking debris, and don't look for the Mav I recall Lusaka equalling seriously bad news in that regard

>>4126050
>I’ll go help the first responders

>>4126050
> I’ll go help the first responders

>>4126050
>I’ll sweep the Mechaniloids

File: Bugs.png (7.03 MB, 3585x4069)

7.03 MB PNG

>>4126050
>I’ll sweep the Mechaniloids

File: Frank Lloyd Wrong.jpg (130 KB, 900x600)

130 KB JPG

>>4126099
>>4126428
>>4126428
>>4126561
>>4126705
>>4127200

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

“I’ll go help the first responders,” you volunteer, figuring your spotlight suite can be of best use there. Blue volunteers to scout for the Maverick and Fringe flies up to engage the Mechaniloid swarm. As it’s already past dusk, you activate your spotlight drones as you fly to the fallen building, seeing medical teams already treating wounded as firefighters head back into the rubble.

“Still a lot more people in the building,” they tell you as you approach. “Could you help the firefighters? Not many real fires in there, you should be fine, and we need as many strong arms as you’ve got.” You look over at the collapsed building, the closest wall still largely intact but for broken windows. Easy enough to locate searchable areas the humans probably haven’t gotten to yet.

Meeting up with some civilian Reploids who are helping clear the rubble and search for people, you coordinate a plan to lift them into the upper “floors” and have them go through to search. As you’re lifting the last, flying over to the other side to get a better angle on the final “floor,” you see a large opening surrounded by high walls, apparently smashed into the building’s inner floors, likely as a result of collision with another building on the way down. Dropping off your last volunteer, you descend into the smashed-in wall yourself.

“Hello? I’m here to help. Is anyone injured?” you call. A groaning sound further in the darkness prompts you to send your spotlights darting forward, revealing broken “walls,” formerly the building’s floors, producing a rough corridor that appears to descend through the superstructure. Well then. This will make the search easier. You send back your data to the medical team, lifting debris off of survivors and helping to gingerly move them up on stretchers. Your spotlights sweeping in and out of the building, you wince every time you hear the support beams above you moan with fatigue. A risky place to be - but you’re doing real work again, and it’s worth the hazard any day.

It looks like you’ve found everyone who’s lucky enough to still be alive, though your descent into the depths of the building reveals all too many poor souls cut down too soon. As you turn to leave, however, a faint noise from the darkness behind you catches your attention. You listen - rock, shifting, scraping along the ground.

“Hello? Are you injured? I’m a Maverick Hunter, it’s going to be okay. Are you there?”

File: He came in like a wreckin(...).png (1.56 MB, 1356x1018)

1.56 MB PNG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wZFdbg7d9U

> Shoot.
> Run.

>>4127469
>Shoot
Specifically a load bearing wall, and get the hell out, hopefully collapsing the building on him.

>>4127469
>Shoot
a solid projectile means he has to shove it out of the way to hit us. That's enough time for a visual.