SpazTheButcher
The Warrior-Poet
Ray began cursing to himself like a sailor who got a bad pot. He picked up one boot and no crabs. Shit, Ishval is better than this backwater hellhole. At least you could dune surf there. There's not one good break on this whole damned rock, Ray thought to himself. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He looked at all of his options, and knew all the way he was fucked. The question was how fucked did he want to be. After all, Ray knew any man could be a mine sweeper. Once. And he knew he could be an anti-aircraft station. Once. According to his crude and morally binding calculations, combined with his ego and "Die a hero" mentality, Ray began barking orders through the mic while simultaneously readying his exo skeleton.
"Upper floor teams rally with ground units. If we split up they will be able to divide us easier, and the ground teams will need all the help they can get. What we'll do is create a real sighting of a real threat. On my mark, I'll open fire and Doc'll detonate the EMP. The M41A2 works off an internal system that was specifically designed to work in post-EMP environment. I can operate independently, and drop the dropship. From there, they'll be watching me over their entrances, and you can slip in." He gripped his Pulse Rifle tightly. His hands were sweaty, and they never got sweaty. He then whispered to himself, "Let's get busy."
Ray took a deep breath, and he then aimed his M41A2 at the nearest escort, lining up his sight with the weak VTOL rotors. He let the gun rip, its normally loud sound obscured by the suppressor, and dumped half of his 60 round magazine into the rotors closest to the drop ship, and the other half into the next escort's.
"Mark."
"Upper floor teams rally with ground units. If we split up they will be able to divide us easier, and the ground teams will need all the help they can get. What we'll do is create a real sighting of a real threat. On my mark, I'll open fire and Doc'll detonate the EMP. The M41A2 works off an internal system that was specifically designed to work in post-EMP environment. I can operate independently, and drop the dropship. From there, they'll be watching me over their entrances, and you can slip in." He gripped his Pulse Rifle tightly. His hands were sweaty, and they never got sweaty. He then whispered to himself, "Let's get busy."
Ray took a deep breath, and he then aimed his M41A2 at the nearest escort, lining up his sight with the weak VTOL rotors. He let the gun rip, its normally loud sound obscured by the suppressor, and dumped half of his 60 round magazine into the rotors closest to the drop ship, and the other half into the next escort's.
"Mark."