Dialing Home, Chronicles of a Heavy Gunner
By Airship Canon
Chapter One: Like it Matters
East Xeres
"Hey, look. The Morskovians are at Base 2." My commander said, as he rolled forward with his HOUND and its ridiculous NA Range, this followed with the Defenders passing my tank-type HOUND.
"Base 2, eh? Well, they'll know what hit 'em but won't be able to do a damn thing about it. Ha ha ha. Oh, guys, don't blow up the buildings this time. This squad is a bit more than those Rafzakael fools we're used to- like that matters… I'll drop their base faster than they can complain about it." I said, as I used my Aruzz Sub sniper Rifle to line my heading up with the enemy base. "1150. Suckers. 1150. FIRE!" I pulled the trigger and a volley of rockets took to the sky. I switched settings and pulled the trigger again. "Reload… reload… FIRE!"
"Oh, look at that- a few rockets in the sky and the enemy scrambles." The Commander said—"Unit 01 take the east road and 70 take the west, cut these guys off."
"Hey. Don't let 'em get near me! I'd rather waste my ammo on their base than their sorry stick asses." I shouted as I let loose a volley of rocket fire. "Their base is toast; Der Furher will obliterate it before they have a chance … if you guys do your jobs."
"I got a visual… crap. That's not a stick! TRIPLE SINGLE! I REPEAT THE ENEMY HAS AT LEAST ONE TRIPLE SINGLE!" One of the two Defenders said.
"Well, blow his Heavy Arms, they're big targets." I said back.
"Hurry up and drop that base."
"Sorry, this takes time. I mean I only got 6 Rocket Packs on this baby…"
Suddenly the buildings in front of me exploded, and I lost my heading and angle, "DAMMIT! What did I say about not letting the enemy get near me!? Use your Heatseekers! Don't let them aim at me!" I yelled as I reset my positions, catching sight of the tower of smoke that is the enemy HQ. "Well… it's almost over." I set my High-Angle Camera to read 1150 again, and pulled the trigger a few more times. The enemy's base exploded in a glorious fireball, and the orders were issued to all HOUNDs- the battle is over- Tarakia had won this one.
"Haha! Looks like the enemy learned their lesson. We kicked them in the balls. Get OUT of our City you slimy Morskovians!" I shouted as we returned to our Squad's HQ.
A little while later:
Well.. that was the night to remember. Not like that squad stood a chance- I'm a damn Heavy Gunner, and I'm DAMN proud of it. A wise heavy gunner once said "Screw you and your HQ." And I want to live up to that—someone who will be mass base dialing, who'll mercilessly range and destroy bases from afar, not once worrying about the enemy Hounds, because if dropping their non-moving HQ works, so be it. It keeps things interesting… and keeps those ugly looking things on those Sal Kari legs, yes those Naqas, those funky things (no, I won't disdain the word "HOUND" by calling those things built on those damn legs"HOUNDs") from bothering me with their ugly presence. That's the defenders' and soldiers' jobs- it's my Role to drop bases. And I'll stick to it. It works.
Even if I'm fighting for Morskoj now. Like it Matters.
Yeah. Chromehounds. (That needs its own section, but whatever.)