Tactics
Merise tightened her grip on the heavy joysticks. The air inside the cockpit was becoming hot and oppressive, wringing out every last drop of sweat she had, and the feeble air conditioning wasn't helping in the slightest. Her attention was intensely focused on the viewscreen of her Burai, where three enemy Sutherlands were shown slowly advancing on her position. Their Factsphere sensors were out, pulsing in the center of the Brittanian Knightmares' faces like a diseased, inflamed eye.
She couldn't stay hidden for much longer. If they got any closer, their sensors would be able to pinpoint her easily. As it was, they were already on alert. The thermal signature she let off when moving into position was enough to tell them someone was there, just not exactly where. If she wanted to take them out, she'd have to do it now, with what little surprise she still had left.
Merise drew back on the left stick, and her frame responded fluidly, resting its arm on the warehouse wall. She took a few deep breaths, filling her lungs with muggy air, steadying her nerves for the big push.
She threw the controls forward and the Knightmare rushed out of hiding, Landspinners skidding on the concrete. Cutting diagonally across the street into her three enemies' path, she steadied her hands on the joystick, slowly panning the crosshairs of her rifle until they lined up with the lead Sutherland. She pulled the trigger with a satisfying click, and felt the vibrations tingle down her body as the entire frame shook to the gun's recoil. A barrage of armor-piercing bullets perforated the target's cockpit, and the enemy Knightmare collapsed to the ground like a stringless puppet, momentum still pushing it. It skidded across the ground for several more meters, sparks fanning out wherever metal touched asphalt.
The other two frames were still active, however, and Merise didn't slow down while she wasted the first one. The remaining Sutherlands brought up their rifles, but hit only her shadow and the empty air behind her as she bolted into another warehouse on the side of the street. It was pitch dark inside, but her sensors brought several large freight containers into grainy green view. They were tempting cover, but she had a better plan than engaging in a prolonged, outnumbered shootout.
She had bought herself some time. No pilot, no matter how courageous or stupid, was going to rush blindly into a building containing someone who had just shot down one of his squad. Hurrying behind one of the metal containers near the back of the warehouse, she reached around to the back of her Knightmare and detached a large beige canister. Setting it upright on the ground, she keyed in a few commands on her keyboard. The letters PROX. ACTIVATED lit up in bright red around the edge of the cylinder.
Merise cradled the heavy assault rifle in the palms of her big metal hands and turned around to face the warehouse wall. Letting loose with a prolonged burst of gunfire, she stepped on the gas and crashed through the splintered wall with a riotous shriek of metal, and sped out into the field behind the warehouse. Over her shoulder, she saw one of the Sutherlands just entering the warehouse, moving with increasing confidence and speed to intercept her once it saw her fleeing. She didn't look back now that they were on the hook, just tore as fast and as far away from the soon-to-be blast radius as possible.
But Merise could imagine. Would they see the mine? Would sweet comprehension and horror dawn on their disgusting Britannian faces in the milliseconds before they die? Or would they set off the bomb without realizing it, and meet their maker in surprise and shock? The predator in her preferred the first option, but any scenario in which Brittanians die was enough to bring a smile to her face and a warm glow to her heart.
Judging the distance to be safe, she slowed to a halt and turned her Burai around just in time for the fireworks. With a thunderous roar, the building was reduced to kindling as one of the Sutherlands had gotten too close to the mine. Merise could feel the ground shake in the cockpit of her Knightmare, the red and orange light of the fiery aftermath dancing across her rapturous face.
She watched as the fires spread to other buildings containing important Britannian military supplies, the sound of sirens rising and falling in the distance. Seeing that the entire row of warehouses would soon go up in flames if help didn't arrive soon, Merise fired a few parting shots into one of the nearby buildings. She was pleasantly rewarded when one of her bullets hit a cache of ammunition and set off another explosion, sending a second pillar of smoke and fire up into the sky. She turned to leave, wheels spinning slowly with the sound of the sirens at her back, when she heard the crack of gunfire in the distance.
Alarms screeched immediately, warning her of armor breaches and hydraulic leaks in the right arm. Worse, her damaged hand had dropped its assault rifle. Cursing wildly, Merise spun around and located her attacker. One of the Sutherlands had apparently not gone into the warehouse, and survived the explosion. It was crippled, its left leg and arm destroyed, and scorch marks ran up and down its body. Even so handicapped, the no-doubt woozy pilot had managed to lurch somewhat upright and shoot her with a destroyed targeting system and scrambled sights.
It was almost impressive, for a Britannian.
Despite her reluctant admiration for the enemy soldier, Merise didn't hesitate a moment before engaging in combat. The enemy had disarmed her, but she was still fully mobile, and had access to a weapon that could never be depleted. Cutting across the grassy field in a wide arc, she quickly closed the gap between her and the enemy Knightmare. The other pilot panicked and began firing wildly, spraying bullets in a frantic attempt to stop her before she got too close. But Merise barely needed to dodge, the fire was so random; and before his clip even ran out she had closed in.
Her first Slash Harken sheared straight through its right arm, the rifle falling to the ground with the hand still attached, still firing at full bore. It twisted in circles with the recoil of its automatic barrage until the ammo ran out. Her second Slash Harken impaled the cockpit, and the heavy frame slumped over, looking as dead as its pilot. The winches in her armor began to turn, retracting the thin cables. Slipping smoothly out of the wreckage of the enemy Knightmare, the deadly spikes anchored firmly into the chest of the frame, one still tinged the normal dark maroon, the other stained crimson.
That was bound to have attracted attention. She hadn't exactly meant to be quiet, what with the sizable bomb she had set off, but that third pilot had cost her time, and damaged her vehicle to boot. Merise sped away from the scene, stopping only to lean down and pick up her fallen weapon with her left hand. She left dancing fires lighting up the night sky behind her.
Stopping when she reached the stretch of unmonitored coast that was her pickup point, Merise shut down the power, took her hands off the controls, and opened the cockpit to the night air. The cool sea breeze felt wonderful after hours spent breathing and exercising in recycled sweat and sterilized industrial fumes.
By her watch she still had an hour till pick up. She looked down the beach to her right and left, and saw no one. Either she was the only one out on a mission tonight, or no one else was back yet. Relaxing, she leaned back in her chair, letting the soothing sounds of the beach wash over her.
No one was relying on her at the moment. No responsibilities, and enough time to catch a short nap. Just a small... nap...
...
...
"Meri, wakey wakey! Time to get up, our ride's here!"
...The first thought that came to her head after being rudely roused from the beginnings of what was sure to have been a wonderful dream, involving masks, guns, and Zero, was that someone was going to die.
The second was that their impending execution would have to be postponed, for just a little while, until she got the crust out of her eyes.
Merise sat up reluctantly, rubbing her eyes, blinking repeatedly, and feeling aches in places she didn't know she had. Somewhere along the line during her seven years as a terrorist she had lost the ability to sleep comfortably in a chair. That is, if such a happy time had ever existed. She was certain that at fourteen she could wait in a cramped cockpit forever, but she wasn't sure. You tend to remember the highs of this life, the burning factories and liberated countrymen, and try to forget the dreary, aching hours of waiting.
When her eyes finally opened, she was greeted by the sight of a burnt, crooked face, with tightly cropped brown hair and a bent nose. His stern mouth was balanced out by kind brown eyes that were showing the beginnings of wrinkles in the corners. Her scowl instantly disappeared into a beaming smile. "Jiro!" she cried out, with more enthusiasm than someone just waking up should conceivably have, pulling him into a fierce hug.
She hadn't seen Jiro in over two years. He was a freelancer, a good fighter with expertise in mechanics, which was enough to make him wanted by every resistance group in Japan. He spent a long time working in hers, but had left her group after a rivalry with another member had threatened to get out of hand. He had been there for her, acting like a surrogate father through the frequent tough times. Merise went along with it, considering it just part of their relationship, but often her intentions towards him bordered on... very inappropriate for a daughter.
Her hug nearly dragged Jiro from his perch atop her Knightmare. Barely maintaining his balance, the big man managed to croak out a reply. "It's good to see you too, Merise. It's been too long," he said, gently extricating himself from her viselike grip with a fond smile on his face. "What happened to your Knightmare?" he asked.
Merise shook her head in exasperation. "Some Britannian got lucky. It's not important. When did you start working for the Black Knights?"
"I guess I just got caught up in the current like everyone else. It's tightly run and well funded. I'm not surprised it's achieved the overwhelming success it has. I mean, none of the organizations I worked for ever had a submarine. Not even yours," Jiro said. "I've been here for about a month now, and most of my squadmates are competent. Can't say the same for my commander, one Tamaki Shinichiro. I take it you know him?" he inquired, seeing Merise's face twist with revulsion at the mention of Tamaki's name.
"Ugh. Not as a friend. He's an incompetent, loudmouthed idiot. Loyal as a dog to Zero though, which is probably why he still has a place here. But who knows, maybe one of these days we'll all get lucky and his well-worn ejection pod will fail to launch," Merise said, releasing a small chuckle.
Jiro gave a booming belly laugh at her joke. "BWAHAHAHAHA, bloodthirsty as ever. You haven't changed one bit, even working for someone else. That reminds me, I should be the one asking you how you ended with the Black Knights. I thought you would never leave the RGAB."
Merise blushed at the compliment. It was always nice to know someone appreciated her sense that the world would be better off without some people. You know, like Britannians, murderers, rapists, and the occasional sycophantic loudmouth. Nothing quite says fair like judgments based off of personal annoyance.
Before she could respond to his question, their conversation was interrupted by the worker in charge of loading the Knightmares onto the sub. "Sorry to bother you two," he shouted, "but this submarine can't wait around all night. Zero will be pissed! Get your shit on board now!"
Jiro looked down at the man, embarrassed to have held him up, and apologized, moving into the cockpit of his own Knightmare, a Burai like Merise's. Merise did not apologize, but piloted her Knightmare on board after him.
Knightmares safely stowed, Merise and Jiro walked the halls of the sub together, catching up. Jiro was especially curious about how she ended up working for Zero, and she was more than happy to oblige, telling him disjointedly all that had happened in her organization since he left. She had just finished the short version by the time they arrived at her destination: the Zero Squad rooms. She turned to Jiro and said, "This is my stop. Come on in, we can continue the conversation inside."
"Definitely. I still have a lot of questions. Ladies first," he said, gesturing with his arm towards the door.
"Well, you can go ahead then," Merise said.
"Oh, Meri, you cut so deep. Words can hurt, you know," Jiro said, wincing in mock pain. She walked past him, making sure to bump the shoulder he was holding gingerly, then looking back and laughing as he made an exaggerated fuss about "the agony!" She waited with her hand on the doorknob for him to catch up with her. Merise and Jiro were greeted inside with muffled conversation that stopped as soon as the speakers heard the door open.
Merise froze. She had barged in on what appeared to be most of the command structure of the Black Knights, Zero included, and they were all staring straight at her.
Author Note: Must... resist... the urge to describe Jiro as "grizzled." And good lord, my dialogue is shit. But describing battle scenes was surprisingly easy.
Also, this is the first chapter with a named Original Character narrating. Hooray! I'm trying to characterize gradually with dialogue and narration. Not sure how that's working, so please give me your impressions of Merise, Jiro, and Etsuo in the reviews. It would be very helpful.
Remember, please Criticize!
