Disclaimer: I do not own Armored Core.
My hands flowed like water over the controls, gently nudging or fiercely jolting them to precise positions. I continued to depress the MG trigger, releasing scores of bullets at Excalibur from the sky. With a thousand projectiles for the one MG, it was impossible to waste them. My AC drifted out of the way of an incoming plasma shot, barely avoiding another one to its left.
This opponent is much more dangerous than the last foe we faced. Lavaitean and I needed to finish this quickly, or we might not be the ones finishing it. All Excalibur needed was one lucky shot, and we would be crippled and vulnerable. I boosted over his head and quickly turned in midair. He attempted to turn when he realized I was behind him, but with my ammunition slowing him and his AC's girth, he couldn't quite keep up with my AC and I set down within a few dozen meters of him, his back still to me. I dashed forward and swept my energy blade at Excalibur's torso. His AC shuddered as a small explosion detonated in its midsection.
I boosted Lavaitean away from our enemy and floated a few meters off the ground, and continued to shoot MG rounds into the crippled AC. One of the bullets must have torn through the damaged radiator, because another explosion went off. Flames jetted from the back of Excalibur, and it staggered forward. It twisted quickly, and fired its plasma cannon at me again.
No! I was too close, and I didn't expect it to recover that quickly. I started to strafe right. Lavaitean still caught a bit of the beam, and it erupted into a small ball-like shockwave as it hit the left arm. The armor meter dropped sharply on the left. The shot must have burnt through a full meter of armor on Lavaitean's forearm. It missed the MG barely, and luckily the arm was still at full operational capacity.
I lifted the MG and pressed the trigger. Bullets ripped into Excalibur, all of them hitting at this close range. The AC bucked and bent as the ammunition entered its body at over 400 meters a second. The generator blew, and plasma streamed from the vents in Blitze's armor. I dashed forward quickly and with two strong sweeps, parted Excalibur's legs from his core. It crumpled to the ground in two pieces, utterly defeated.
Lavaitean, smoking MG in hand, stood victoriously over its fallen opponent. This is nothing new. I have risen in fame through the Arena over the past year, and I haven't lost a match yet.
Some of the warriors fight for pride. Some of them fight for revenge, or for money. I fight because the Arena is all that is real to me. I do not know my real name, or anything more complicated than that about myself. I awoke in Lavaitean about two years ago without a single memory. Maybe I'm fighting because some part of me believes that I can regain my past through the Arena. Or maybe I'm just another skilled neophyte who revels in the art of combat. I try not to dwell on it too much.
The cockpit of Lavaitean is much more comfortable than my flat.
For one thing, the flat is much larger, with not as much metal or other materials to fill it all in. I've heard of claustrophobia, but the opposite occurs in many AC pilots, including myself. The flat also has lime-colored walls. It hurts the eyes, unlike the uniformly gray colors of all AC cockpits. There are also lots of frills: art, tables, and so on, all exquisite and beautiful. To a warrior, however, they serve as distractions.
I pushed through that section of the flat quickly. In the back, I had removed all of the decoration and painted the walls light silver. I felt more at ease there. My feet carried me to the bookshelf first. I skimmed the tomes I had collected, and finally decided on one. With the lamp turned on at the desk, I sat and began to analyze Sun Tzu's Art of War.
My hands flowed like water over the controls, gently nudging or fiercely jolting them to precise positions. I continued to depress the MG trigger, releasing scores of bullets at Excalibur from the sky. With a thousand projectiles for the one MG, it was impossible to waste them. My AC drifted out of the way of an incoming plasma shot, barely avoiding another one to its left.
This opponent is much more dangerous than the last foe we faced. Lavaitean and I needed to finish this quickly, or we might not be the ones finishing it. All Excalibur needed was one lucky shot, and we would be crippled and vulnerable. I boosted over his head and quickly turned in midair. He attempted to turn when he realized I was behind him, but with my ammunition slowing him and his AC's girth, he couldn't quite keep up with my AC and I set down within a few dozen meters of him, his back still to me. I dashed forward and swept my energy blade at Excalibur's torso. His AC shuddered as a small explosion detonated in its midsection.
I boosted Lavaitean away from our enemy and floated a few meters off the ground, and continued to shoot MG rounds into the crippled AC. One of the bullets must have torn through the damaged radiator, because another explosion went off. Flames jetted from the back of Excalibur, and it staggered forward. It twisted quickly, and fired its plasma cannon at me again.
No! I was too close, and I didn't expect it to recover that quickly. I started to strafe right. Lavaitean still caught a bit of the beam, and it erupted into a small ball-like shockwave as it hit the left arm. The armor meter dropped sharply on the left. The shot must have burnt through a full meter of armor on Lavaitean's forearm. It missed the MG barely, and luckily the arm was still at full operational capacity.
I lifted the MG and pressed the trigger. Bullets ripped into Excalibur, all of them hitting at this close range. The AC bucked and bent as the ammunition entered its body at over 400 meters a second. The generator blew, and plasma streamed from the vents in Blitze's armor. I dashed forward quickly and with two strong sweeps, parted Excalibur's legs from his core. It crumpled to the ground in two pieces, utterly defeated.
Lavaitean, smoking MG in hand, stood victoriously over its fallen opponent. This is nothing new. I have risen in fame through the Arena over the past year, and I haven't lost a match yet.
Some of the warriors fight for pride. Some of them fight for revenge, or for money. I fight because the Arena is all that is real to me. I do not know my real name, or anything more complicated than that about myself. I awoke in Lavaitean about two years ago without a single memory. Maybe I'm fighting because some part of me believes that I can regain my past through the Arena. Or maybe I'm just another skilled neophyte who revels in the art of combat. I try not to dwell on it too much.
The cockpit of Lavaitean is much more comfortable than my flat.
For one thing, the flat is much larger, with not as much metal or other materials to fill it all in. I've heard of claustrophobia, but the opposite occurs in many AC pilots, including myself. The flat also has lime-colored walls. It hurts the eyes, unlike the uniformly gray colors of all AC cockpits. There are also lots of frills: art, tables, and so on, all exquisite and beautiful. To a warrior, however, they serve as distractions.
I pushed through that section of the flat quickly. In the back, I had removed all of the decoration and painted the walls light silver. I felt more at ease there. My feet carried me to the bookshelf first. I skimmed the tomes I had collected, and finally decided on one. With the lamp turned on at the desk, I sat and began to analyze Sun Tzu's Art of War.