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Description
Hyena and Serpent
---Part ??? A - Crimson 0n the 5and Fi3ld

xxxxxxx

Blake shifted his fingers, keeping his triggers at the ready, on the control systems. One of the advantages of having a Behemoth MEK that had a normal amount of limbs and a short tail was the operating system for piloting could be altered slightly and still be repaired, if need be, with the same parts as it had been originally built with.

The cooling unit alongside his MEK’s saw-like mane also kept him from getting uncomfortable due to any temperature change - wearing the standard piloting gear tended to make you sweat after about a quarter of an hour, so those with “freezing” gear tended to have the least trouble with that, but those with “flame” also had cooling units within their piloting chassis that simulated the effect.

It especially helped him in situations like these - a battle against a “solar”-using MEK. While the effect varied greatly between pilot and MEK-type, the basic mechanics behind the usual attacks, defenses, and other assorted skills remained the same: a pierce-like energy beam, blinding light, or, in this case, using the heat of the sun to wear down the opponent.

“Oi, Rosenthall, you going to get the show on the road, or is my little sunshine wearing you and your little laugher out?” The question arose from over the communication link, which provided a near-permanent mug shot of the battling pilots for spectators…and commentary from the pilots.

He steeled his features a bit, “Jesh, shut up. You do not want me to start laughing.”

Static.

The cacophony roared in his ears as the whirr of his MEK’s main weapon gained momentum, fire spewing around him like hellfire. His trigger finger moved automatically; he was caged in his own mind again. “Come on, come on, come on-! Give me a challenge here!”

Static.

“Yeah, yeah; like I care,” his punk-haired peer waved it off, a hand off of his controls - there!

His entire stance shifted; the grip on the controls far more alert than his relaxed “planning stage”. The whirring began and his hyena MEK dashed forward in the sandy forest terrain.

Judging by the response Jesh had, which consisted of a scoff and “raising the heat!” and moving his camel-like MEK off the top of the sand dune, Blake’s choice had been the right one.

He knew better than to charge head-on at Jesh’s “Vual”; it was like asking Bec to use her MEK to smash his skull in considering that the close- and mid-range strategies the other pilot was known to use, but that didn’t prevent him from using other means of attacking from the front.

One of the advantages the terrain and glaring sun granted him was heat, even if his target had some resistance to it. He typed out a few command prompts with his left hand and then returned the grip to controls, flipping up twin components with his thumbs. The whirring of the saw-blades that made up his MEK’s mane sounded through the cockpit chassis.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment over it. Who was the one that still follows Bec the Bitch around like an abused mutt? That’d be you, Mr. Rosenthall. You could’ve gotten help with that little tic of yours, but you decided against it, right? Was it the awe and mystery of the psychotic beauty that drained you of reasoning? Or were you always that foolish?”

‘Shut up shut up shut up shut up-!!!’ Blake kept himself in check outwardly, but the indignation was building.

Static.

“Aw~, that face you’re making right now, Blake, it’s wonderful~,” he had just bisected Bec’s serpentine MEK, but this side of her was gleeful about it, ecstatic; he should have known better. “But~…you need to step up your game!”

The manic grin he had been wearing was removed with the force of a sledgehammer. ‘How!? I cut the MEK in two…’

“…disappointing, you’re not even going to dodge. Oh~, if only you could retain your full brain while having fun.” He had a second to be aware of her ire rising and his MEK being restricted by ice around each foot, before the two sections had cables extend and snap back in place. There was no armor covering it, but she didn’t need it.

Then there was only crimson pain and dispassionate eyes.

Static.

The laughter from his opponent brought him out of the memory. “You were probably thinking, ‘why don’t I just enjoy the moment? She can’t be that bad.’ Man, what they say is true, techies who dream big are the most foolish of any MEK personnel.”

He ground his teeth in agitation that kept on building. He used to not have a hair-thin trigger on his emotions, especially anger, but that was then.

This was now.

He pulled the trigger. The blades sounded like so many angry hunting dogs…or perhaps like the laughter of a bitter and angry mind.

The sands below the huge mechanical frames were stained with red.

Someone was laughing.

xxxxxxx

Description
Hyena and Serpent
---Part ??? A - Crimson 0n the 5and Fi3ld

xxxxxxx

Blake shifted his fingers, keeping his triggers at the ready, on the control systems. One of the advantages of having a Behemoth MEK that had a normal amount of limbs and a short tail was the operating system for piloting could be altered slightly and still be repaired, if need be, with the same parts as it had been originally built with.

The cooling unit alongside his MEK’s saw-like mane also kept him from getting uncomfortable due to any temperature change - wearing the standard piloting gear tended to make you sweat after about a quarter of an hour, so those with “freezing” gear tended to have the least trouble with that, but those with “flame” also had cooling units within their piloting chassis that simulated the effect.

It especially helped him in situations like these - a battle against a “solar”-using MEK. While the effect varied greatly between pilot and MEK-type, the basic mechanics behind the usual attacks, defenses, and other assorted skills remained the same: a pierce-like energy beam, blinding light, or, in this case, using the heat of the sun to wear down the opponent.

“Oi, Rosenthall, you going to get the show on the road, or is my little sunshine wearing you and your little laugher out?” The question arose from over the communication link, which provided a near-permanent mug shot of the battling pilots for spectators…and commentary from the pilots.

He steeled his features a bit, “Jesh, shut up. You do not want me to start laughing.”

Static.

The cacophony roared in his ears as the whirr of his MEK’s main weapon gained momentum, fire spewing around him like hellfire. His trigger finger moved automatically; he was caged in his own mind again. “Come on, come on, come on-! Give me a challenge here!”

Static.

“Yeah, yeah; like I care,” his punk-haired peer waved it off, a hand off of his controls - there!

His entire stance shifted; the grip on the controls far more alert than his relaxed “planning stage”. The whirring began and his hyena MEK dashed forward in the sandy forest terrain.

Judging by the response Jesh had, which consisted of a scoff and “raising the heat!” and moving his camel-like MEK off the top of the sand dune, Blake’s choice had been the right one.

He knew better than to charge head-on at Jesh’s “Vual”; it was like asking Bec to use her MEK to smash his skull in considering that the close- and mid-range strategies the other pilot was known to use, but that didn’t prevent him from using other means of attacking from the front.

One of the advantages the terrain and glaring sun granted him was heat, even if his target had some resistance to it. He typed out a few command prompts with his left hand and then returned the grip to controls, flipping up twin components with his thumbs. The whirring of the saw-blades that made up his MEK’s mane sounded through the cockpit chassis.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment over it. Who was the one that still follows Bec the Bitch around like an abused mutt? That’d be you, Mr. Rosenthall. You could’ve gotten help with that little tic of yours, but you decided against it, right? Was it the awe and mystery of the psychotic beauty that drained you of reasoning? Or were you always that foolish?”

‘Shut up shut up shut up shut up-!!!’ Blake kept himself in check outwardly, but the indignation was building.

Static.

“Aw~, that face you’re making right now, Blake, it’s wonderful~,” he had just bisected Bec’s serpentine MEK, but this side of her was gleeful about it, ecstatic; he should have known better. “But~…you need to step up your game!”

The manic grin he had been wearing was removed with the force of a sledgehammer. ‘How!? I cut the MEK in two…’

“…disappointing, you’re not even going to dodge. Oh~, if only you could retain your full brain while having fun.” He had a second to be aware of her ire rising and his MEK being restricted by ice around each foot, before the two sections had cables extend and snap back in place. There was no armor covering it, but she didn’t need it.

Then there was only crimson pain and dispassionate eyes.

Static.

The laughter from his opponent brought him out of the memory. “You were probably thinking, ‘why don’t I just enjoy the moment? She can’t be that bad.’ Man, what they say is true, techies who dream big are the most foolish of any MEK personnel.”

He ground his teeth in agitation that kept on building. He used to not have a hair-thin trigger on his emotions, especially anger, but that was then.

This was now.

He pulled the trigger. The blades sounded like so many angry hunting dogs…or perhaps like the laughter of a bitter and angry mind.

The sands below the huge mechanical frames were stained with red.

Someone was laughing.

xxxxxxx