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    The Old Guard Dies Hard.

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    CLiX

    Monetary Credits : 1,500
    Posts : 5
    Join date : 2017-03-20

    The Old Guard Dies Hard.

    Post by CLiX on 27th March 2017, 00:18

    The sun beat down mercilessly on desert sands that stretched for miles in any direction, which in turn released waves of heat distortion, making the sands seem alive with movement. A single Zoid barreled across these sands, scattering the waves and launching an impressive dust cloud into the sky. Beholden of any remarkable features, lacking even the base armor, the mechanical creature was nearly unidentifiable. Stranger still, it seemed to blink out of sight every other moment as well as falling off of radar. A single blade hung off the right side of the feline Zoid, weathered a chipped, but every bit as dangerous as when it was new.

    The speeding creature altered its' path, bearing slightly more eastern, until it crested a large sand dune, at the bottom of which lay several destroyed Zoids, half buried in the fine tan sand. Claws dug into the sand as the Zoid slid down hill, slowly coming to a stop at the bottom, near the body of a felled Shield Liger. The cockpit of the unidentified feline Zoid sprung open with a rusty squeal, and a man stepped out, planting worn and torn boots on the nose of his Zoid. He turned and shut the canopy carefully, eyes squinting as, for a moment, the suns bright reflection hit him square in the face. The man grimaced as he snapped a pair of polarized goggles over his eyes, careful not to get any of his shaggy long hair trapped in the process. A single hand dug in a large pocket on his cargo shorts, pulling out a simple, compact tape measure, and the man proceeded to take measurements on a panel of Zoids canopy, which was riddled with bullet holes, and threatening to simply shatter at any moment. Plus, the air leaking through at high speeds was simply turning the cockpit into a whirlwind.

    After a few moments the man seemed satisfied and nimbly climbed down the leg of his Zoid, and began his trek over to the Liger, hoping to scavenge a new panel at the least. Within moments, the pilot had climbed the frame of the Shieldy, and within the better part of an hour, had a nice piece of flat glass paneling flopped out on the sand, as well as a scattering of various other parts, and while guns and armor were always at the top of every pilots list, this particular pilot was after the one thing every pilot needed.

    "AIR CONDITIONING!"

    The young man jumped for joy, hefting a somewhat large blower motor he had yanked from under the console of the perished Liger Zoid.

    "It's about time I've had a little luck."

    The man slid down from the half-buried Zoid, and threw the motor down next to his other treasures; a few emergency meal kits, as well as some two-part resin for quick and dirty repairs. The bandits, were, if anything well prepared. He snagged one of the meal kits and trekked back to his own Zoid, and camped in the shade, propped up against one of the large metal legs, and began to snack on some kind of protein bar, followed with slow sips of water from a sealed pouch. Goggled eyes turned back to the Shield Liger, with thoughts of how to rig up the shield system to his own Zoid.


    WordCount: 554
    RPC: 5

    EDITS: Color coding issue and Wordcount added.


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    Takeshi Kimari

    RPC : 94
    Posts : 160
    Join date : 2017-03-16
    Location : Preparing the Floordrobe.
    Age : 24

    Character sheet
    Name: Takeshi Kimari
    Team: Highguard
    Primary Zoid: Liger Zero

    Re: The Old Guard Dies Hard.

    Post by Takeshi Kimari on 28th March 2017, 23:02

    The Captain’s office was dark, the main lights had all been switched off. The only source of light was the dimmed screen of the computer, casting its fitful white rays onto the polished desk. The sole occupant of the office lay in his chair facing side on to the monitor, his eyes closed against the headache that pounded inside his skull. If Takeshi could compare the feeling to anything he’d say it was like a hundred tiny jackhammers impacting on the inside of his forehead. The Captain’s long white hair hung over the back of his chair, the hangover was not sitting well, and his usual cure wasn’t doing anything to help, as evidenced by the half full glass of scotch that rested on the desk on a tastefully tacky team coaster.

    The pilot had to admit that his usual methods were having less and less effect on his mood, the drink was taking longer to turn his mind foggy, as though he was building up a tolerance to the expensive Scotch. The women weren’t distracting enough and the stimulants not mind altering enough to change how he felt. Now even the distractions of the day to day running of the team wasn’t enough, with Lex taking care of the vast majority of the paper work and the raw recruits taking care of their own training, Takeshi was beginning to feel useless in his own home. He’d brought the team back together as quickly as possible, and he now knew that most of those he’d fought alongside in his early years were long gone and retired. Still, he held out hope of tracking down the last few that would make his team whole again, and maybe with that he’d find his sense of purpose again.

    All of this ran through his mind in the same time it takes to take a deep breath, and no matter how many times he did this he couldn’t shake the one answer he dreaded to face; Mei had left him. The one person who had sworn to love him and stand by him for forever and a day, had left. It hadn’t been malicious or even in bad blood, she’d simply left, saying she’d return when he figured out what he wanted, but even so it cut deep and festered like an infected wound. Every day began the same, he’d awaken angry and bitter from the loss, he’d hit the gym to unleash some of the rage that continued to build, and then he’d drink. Takeshi would drink and drink until the taste of alcohol was permanently imbedded into his tongue, and the light headedness of the drunken stupor overtook him for another few blessed hours of oblivion.

    His reverie was broken by the sound of a new e-mail hitting his official inbox, it was in reality a fairly subdued beep but to his sensitive hungover ears it was like nails on a chalkboard. His face contorted in pain as he looked to the screen, eyes opening for the first time in an hour, and opened the message. There was no name attached, just one sentence, “You need to see this” along with some co-ordinates and a video captured by the ZBC’s satellite network.

    The clip was short, a group of wandering bandits getting ambushed by a high speed object, taking each out with professional precision before disappearing into the sand clouds, even with the grainy footage, Takeshi recognised the Zoid in an instant, he’d fought beside it in his own Saix too many times not to. It was a Lightning Saix, battered and bruised, but it was a Saix and there was only one Lightning Saix pilot alive who could perform manoeuvres like that, the name escaped Takeshi’s lips unbidden but were no less true for the speaking, “CLiX…” He jumped to his feet, pausing a moment as the hangover caught up with him and assaulted his pain sensors in a crescendo of agony. Once his head had begun to clear Takeshi threaded his arms through his battered old jacket and raced out the door as fast as his hangover addled brain would allow.

    The communicator he kept in his pocket was at his lips in a heartbeat as he ran, “Open the hangar doors, I’ll be leaving in my Lightning Saix, Lex is in charge until I return.” He shouted as the Highguardian pilot flew down stairs and almost leapt from the gantry onto the head of his Lightning Saix, the cockpit opening with a hiss. “Alright Flash, show me the true meaning of speed.” He spoke with a thrill of exhilaration, the headache and queasiness evaporating as the Lightning Saix leapt out of the Highguard hangar, accelerating at a rate that was frankly frightening, no one knew or understood Takeshi the way Flash did, the Zoid’s legs moving with a feline grace that belied both its size and mechanical nature.


    Despite the haste with which they left and Takeshi’s eagerness to arrive, it took several hours to reach the co-ordinates in the message, the pilot and Zoid saw the sun set and rise again by the time they reached their destination. Red rimmed eyes stared grimly out at the baking wasteland of the desert, the sandy grit that made the corners of his eyes itch drove him mad, but at the speeds they were travelling he didn’t dare take his hand off the controls to fix it. The co-ordinates themselves didn’t show their quarry but the general area provided a solid search ground to begin their hunt.

    As luck would have it, the search didn’t take long, they stumbled across what could only be described as a Zoid graveyard, the remains of a shield liger baking in the sun. What really caught Takeshi’s eye though, was the rusted and pitted form of the damaged Lightning Saix, and its pilot scavenging amongst the debris. Takeshi popped his cockpit and walked out hands in the air, doing his best to appear non-threatening, “Hello!” He yelled out, waving to gain the other pilot’s attention, “I’m looking for a pilot, don’t suppose you know anyone like that?” He paused for a moment before adding, “CLiX…”


    Words: 1030/1030


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    "There's an art, or rather a knack to flying, in learning to hurl oneself at the ground, and miss."

    Battle Record: 2/0/1

      Current date/time is 21st September 2017, 02:01