There are specific moments when you stop whatever you’re doing and question just what the hell is going on with your life. Normal people have it during a long drinking session, or after someone they love or knew died suddenly. Usually, you don’t have one at four in the fucking morning when you’re eighty feet underwater riding a fucking nuclear powered abomination of a machine that can’t decide if it wants to be a submarine or a TSF and settled on ‘Fuck it, let’s do both’ towards land in a sortie best defined as ‘high risk’ by the brass and ‘totally fucking retarded’ by pretty much everyone else. You should have never listened to that fucking recruiter.
If you ever got out of this radioactive death trap, you decided, you would find that motherfucker in his comfy Midwestern air-conditioned office and strangle him to death with his bootlaces. He was why you had to strap yourself into this thing three god damn hours ago and putter at little better than walking pace under the North Sea to get into position in time for the whole shindig to begin. Even if you’d been assured the nuke plant was well shielded from the cockpit, it didn’t stop the rumors. Or your occasional check of the Geiger counter in the HUD. Burning a bright green directly into your eyeballs despite the dark murk of the sea, you could see the nav point that marked your squad’s destination where you’d wait potentially another few hours running near silent in to see if this would get called off again, or you’d finally get the go signal. Hurry up and wait. Your favorite part of this.
“Hey, Foss,” you ask, blatantly ignoring the mandatory radio silence just like everyone fucking else who got dragged on an underwater patrol or entry. “Think this is the big one?”
“What, was the last twenty fucking times you asked me not enough to get the hint that you’re driving me fucking nuts when you keep asking that?” Foss grumbled back.
“Can’t section eight your way out of this one Foss.”
“No. Like the last time, and the time before that, and the time before fucking that, no, I don’t think we’re going to be storming onto the beaches of France in some re-enactors wet dream.” Your wingman replied. The water was too murky for the direct face to face laser comms most pilots were used to, but you could picture that movie star face of his scowling like he usually did when you decided to ask this question. It was a ritual at this point between you two. And no matter what Pam might imply, no, it was not stupid. Her rituals were stupid. And so was she. Fucking Pam.
Foss sighed over the mike. “Look, just keep scanning for activity on the sea floor, alright? We don’t have fish to toss at ‘em if they suddenly decide to swim.”
“That’s why I’m saying this is the real deal man,” you say, adjusting your course slightly to stay within ‘sight’ of the squadron leader. “They wouldn’t load us with this much if this was a false alarm. Blasting a sandbar to bits is just overkill for this shit you know?”
While that was one of your favorite patrols of all time, the point was easily seen. Everyone in the flight was loaded for bear. VLS cells, full mags of everything, everything for a good old bug hunt but the rail gun. Salt water fucked with it something fierce. “So if this isn’t the big one, what the fuckever it is has to be important.” You finish. “Fucking common sense.”
“Or, like the last time, you two idiots are chewed out by me again for not following protocol.” Aaaah, that sweet voice. Your squad lead, the wonderful bitch she was. You open your mouth to say
[ ] “Unless the BETA can suddenly listen to radios, I think we’re alright Captain.” [ ] “Sorry ma’am. I’m just sick of being in the dark. Literally.”
Blake Gomez
Dropped my trip.
Aiden Adams
>[X] “Sorry ma’am. I’m just sick of being in the dark. Literally.” Submersible, nuclear-powered...we piloting an A-12? Bitching.
Leo Ramirez
[ ] “Unless the BETA can suddenly listen to radios, I think we’re alright Captain.”
John Gomez
>[ ] “Sorry ma’am. I’m just sick of being in the dark. Literally.”
Jose Ramirez
[ ] “Sorry ma’am. I’m just sick of being in the dark. Literally.”
Jack Morris
>[ ] “Unless the BETA can suddenly listen to radios, I think we’re alright Captain.”
Mason Cook
>[X] “Sorry ma’am. I’m just sick of being in the dark. Literally."
Jaxon Torres
Calling votes, writing up now.
Lincoln Thomas
It's not a hard rule yet it's an option.
Noah King
“Sorry ma’am. I’m just sick of being in the dark. Literally.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “Makes me nervous is all.” The feeling of being in a TSA without having vision aside from your HUD was unnerving, especially as every single sound contact you picked up could be that one BETA that figured out how to tread water. Testing if 36mm even worked this deep wasn’t something you really wanted to do. Admittedly, you’d die from the crushing pressure before the BETA could eat you. Not the worst way to go. Still not a fun topic to think about. “Quit being a fucking baby. We’re all nervous every time we go out, Lieutenant.” You could see her roll her eyes. Somehow. Bitch.
“More nervous than usual I mean. Just a bit.” “Really though, if this isn’t the big shit, we’re just wasting time getting microwaved inside these things for nothing ma’am.” Foss chimed in. “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” Foss really had your back. That asshole. “We’ll find out if it is or not in a few minutes. So shut up, and just wait.” With that, the radio link with Captain Schultz went dead. Left alone with your thoughts, and listening for any sign of something lurking in the deep, the minutes stretched on like hours. Seriously, the stress would kill you before the cancer from piloting this fucking thing would at this rate. Finally though, something broke the sounds of propellers in the distance and your own heartbeat. “Ascend to firing depth, I repeat ascend to firing depth. We’re clear to fire.” Schultz’s voice crackled back over the radio. You grin. Time for FUN. The waterjet propulsion engines whine as the pump furiously to let you climb to the required depth.
“Coordinates?” That was Silver-4, somewhere off to your… upper right? Orientation underwater could be a bitch. He was in that general direction. Alright, good. He was asking the stupid questions now.
Blake Brooks
“I’ll feed you all the link as soon as we’re in position.” The Captains icy reply made you grin.
At least she was an equal opportunity bitch. Arcane computer systems started to feed you the data you needed into the ‘brains’ of each of the missiles you carried in the VLS boxes attached to your TSA. There was something primal about all of this. Sweet sweet revenge, in the form of a missile to the face of the alien fuckheads that had decided to try and fuck over everyone. But first, you have to do something. Something about your RIO.
[ ] Tell Foss you were right [ ] Tell Foss you were right [ ] Tell Foss you were right
Brody Wood
>a new Muv-Luv Alternative Quest
Well, I have high hopes for you, seeing that old MLA quest by Crosswire or whatshisname struck a sore nerve with me toward the end.
Xavier Bell
>[ ] Tell Foss you were right >[ ] Tell Foss you were right >[ ] Tell Foss you were motherfucking right
Brandon Stewart
>[X] Tell Foss you were right Time to show the BETA the power of the A-12 Avenger. 12 VLS launch tubes, four 120mm artillery cannons, four 36mm chainguns, four 12.5mm machineguns, and when all else fails we've got diamond-hard claw hands. We are the most heavily armed thing in this setting, short of the Susanoo.
Aiden Lee
[ ] Tell Foss you were right Just because he was right doesn't mean you have to enjoy it.
Jonathan Rodriguez
>[x] Tell Foss you were right
Jace Ross
>[ ] Does the Pope shit in the woods?
How much meta knowledge about Muv Luv universe do I need for this quest?
Aaron Rogers
>[ ] Tell Foss to suck it right
Jack Baker
Not much. It's a few years after when the Visual Novel ends. Alternative IV was a success.
“I told you.” You’re quiet at first. You want it to sink in.
Foss gives you the silent treatment.
“What did I say Foss?”
More silence. He’s mocking you, back in his little flight fuckbuddy seat where he plays with knobs all day. The faggot.
“Hey. Foss. Earth to Foss. What did I, the magnificent, superb pilot that I am, fucking call.”
The pain in having to admit it is palpable in his voice. You barely hear him at first. “You were right…”
“Louder, I need to record this for posterity.” Delicious. So delicious. “What was I right about Foss?”
You’re giggling to yourself as he sighs. “You were right about this being the big one. But you were wrong about France.”
“Sore loser back there huh?”
“Nah, considering the million times I made you admit it. I’m the one still winning.”
“You can’t take this away from me Foss. I will relish this memory for the rest of our likely short lives.” The feeling was shortlived. There was still some work to be done.
As soon as the word ‘Launch’ was mentioned, your hand was already pressing the Button. The Button, holy be thy name, for at thy press twelve cells of death rumbled, and in sequence with the other Avengers in the squadron, boosted up and out of the water. A fuzzy taccom link to one of your missiles was fed into your HUD by Foss, the NFO working his magic behind the dials.
What you saw most certainly wasn’t France, and judging by the coast sure as hell wasn't Norway either, as the cruise missile broke the sound barrier at low level. The cliffs and shoreline was different. Merrily rocketing over the high chop of the North Sea, your missiles eye view caught sight of other launches in the distance, also submerged. Looked like the other squadrons were going to be part of the fun too. This really was the big one.
Heavy metal anti-laser chaff blossomed in front of the camera as the Laser class near the shoreline started interception the heavy rain of shells and the occasional missile headed their way. The link died soon after that, the missile unable to phone home through the cloud of metal. This really was it. Fucking it.
It was time to take back Europe.
Jason Baker
Fucking Laser-class BETA. Without them we would have cleared the aliens from Earth a long time ago.
Leo Perry
Your reverie is shaken by Schulz barking orders out. Time to get airborne. Adjusting the throttles, you powered the heavy TSA out of the North Sea, jets dumping water in a roaring spray as they cleared. Whoever designed these multipurpose engines knew their shit. Now the only question was where the hell you were, but that didn’t matter. Killing BETA mattered, and it mattered a lot considering the ships behind you, and TSF’s following you in. Laserjagd squadrons roared past at speeds faster than you could ever dream of managing in this flying brick, as the squadron descends upon the beachhead in formation.
That’s where the killing really begins.
[ ] Check weapons. If salt water fucked up a cannon, you need to know now, before you really need it [ ] There could still be some Laser’s on the beach, despite the plastering it’s getting from the fleet. Get lower [ ] Writein
Xavier Ross
>[ ] Check weapons. If salt water fucked up a cannon, you need to know now, before you really need it
Thomas Anderson
[ ] Check weapons. If salt water fucked up a cannon, you need to know now, before you really need it
Benjamin White
[ ] Check weapons. If salt water fucked up a cannon, you need to know now, before you really need it
Ian Fisher
agreed! Lets kill these bastards and take back our world! For the EU!
Cameron Ortiz
By the way, what are we? An Eu unit? or a UN unit (country of origin would be perfect)
Ayden Miller
> [ ] Check weapons. If salt water fucked up a cannon, you need to know now, before you really need it > [ ] Just encase something goes wrong, rub Foss' nose in one more time, just so he has something to remember us by
Noah Flores
>A-12's >Fucking browning .50 calibers >TSF mounted Motherfucking VLS TUBES >A STEALTH TSF with VLS launch tubes that is obscenely fatassed and complex >Nuclear powered shit
Either Super Science Nazi Germany, or the good old US of A. You seriously think the Burgers would let Raptor-chan languish as a hanger queen after the commies got their dirty hands on a hive?
Brody Gomez
Well to be honest, those hives were brought under with massive UN support Due to the UN not wanting another cold war with G bombs (and considering Germany is split into west and east branches, both of which, If I remember correctly have their nation in exile in either Canada or the UK,)
With all this in mind, I support the idea that we're either a French UN unit, or an American UN unit (I'll also support a US unit filled with european soldiers)
Ian Young
You’ve practiced sweeping beaches hundreds of times in simulators, and done a few actual culling operations on the Frisian Islands. Nothing though, would suck more than to end up having to beat BETA to death with your giant arms and claw at them like a crazy ex-girlfriend instead of just shooting them. The A-12 Avenger was designed for shooting. It had enough firepower to rival even the venerated A-10 and blew the pants off the Intruder in sheer throw weight. Not shooting, was bad. Very bad.
Retracting the covers off your arm mounted chain guns and dual mount .50’s, you test them out on the nearest target still moving: half a Grappler class feebly attempting to crawl towards the landing TSA’s as you and your squad fanned out into prearranged zones of fire. The caseless ammunition appears to be fine, action cycling without an issue. Next came the two ‘Bunny Ear’ arms that contained the medium length 120mm cannons.
“Any moisture in the ammo racks Foss?” Fuck it, you’ve got pilot shit to do and he’s basically going along for the ride at this point, unless you suddenly need to become the world’s most expensive artillery piece. “Like, you know, maybe from your tears at finally having to admit I’m right?”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
Jaxson James
Well, ammo seems fine at least, judging by the display that flashes across your HUD. But some salt water could potentially have seeped through the casing into the barrel which could be very very bad. Having your ammo cook off in one of these puppies was just as bad as what would happen with those poor fuckers in a tank-tank, not a Tank-tank.
The only real way to test the barrels was to heat them up which meant firing, but so far pickings were scarce here. Like the BETA weren’t expecting a thrust here, or distracted. You frown a little even as you mulch your way through a cluster of Tank classes with a hail of bullets from the .50 cal’s. Nothing worth wasting a 120mm HESH on. So for the moment, everything was fine. For the moment.
It took about five minutes of hosing down smaller strains with the lighter weapons before a target worth firing at popped up. Several targets.
Many targets.
A lot of heavily armored targets.
“Destroyer rush! Kill the front runners!”
Well, that meant you were probably fucked if the cannons didn’t work out.
[ ]Light ‘em up! Time to give the 120’s a shakedown run.
[ ] Flank ‘em! Destroyers don’t have any armor to the side or the top, and the Laser cloud is still up. [ ] Stand your ground! Plenty of ammo left to just chew through the front of the alien without even using the 120mm’s
Jeremiah Campbell
[ ]Light ‘em up! Time to give the 120’s a shakedown run.
Michael Clark
>[ ]Light ‘em up! Time to give the 120’s a shakedown run. TSAs aren't designed for flanking, we'll leave that to the lighter TSFs. We're built for heavy assault.
Jackson Cooper
>[X]Light ‘em up! Time to give the 120’s a shakedown run.
Jace Myers
>[ ] Flank ‘em! Destroyers don’t have any armor to the side or the top, and the Laser cloud is still up
Colton Fisher
[ ]Light ‘em up! Time to give the 120’s a shakedown run.
Wyatt King
actually scratch that, the others are right I ended up forgetting we're in a TSA not a TSF >[X]Light ‘em up! Time to give the 120’s a shakedown run.
Henry Nelson
The only real way to kill a Destroyer from the front was with liberal application of 120mm rounds to its alien equivalent of a face, pulping the thing even if it didn’t bust open the carapace. Luckily for you, and unluckily for every single destroyer in the area, you and your entire squadron were in a machine that was pretty much built from the ground up to provide this kind of firepower with excessive speed.
However, even at close range, 120mm is not always enough to stop a charging destroyer. Out of the corner of your eye you catch Silver 4 going for a flanking maneuver, straight into a house sized extra-terrestrial. There was little left of his Avenger but a pile of dented, twisted metal even as the squadron managed to as a whole, keep getting lucky with the few destroyers that made it through the hail of shellfire. Smoke is rising from the barrels of your 120’s, Foss fiddling with the heat-sinks as he regulated the engine power to keep risk of a cook off to bare minimum. The tide is starting to break on your wall, and as the Anti-Laser cloud begins to clear, messages from up and down the bridge head crackled back together as contact with the main fleet offshore was reestablished.
Inch by bloody inch, you’re gaining ground. You can see it, sense it, and feel it. With each 120mm shell you fire feels like you’re throwing a haymaker at whatever the hapless target happens to be. The flurry of lighter caliber weapons roaring out reminds you of a chainsaw or buzzsaw slicing through a piece of wood. There’s a comforting rhythm that can be found in this sort of sudden, intense and time compacted violence. The BETA don’t stop coming, and you don’t stop firing.
Ethan Edwards
At least, not until you’re starting to run dry. Twenty minutes in, with the tide of BETA at least slowing to a trickle and the Laserjagd returning back, a few squadrons missing a member or two from when they first flew over you, you start running empty. So does the rest of the squadron, squalks coming out, as the artillery starts up again, this time not intercepted on the way to the target. Slowly, along the initial beachhead, the gunfire starts to die down, and that magical word filtering through the mess of radio traffic and to Foss.
“We’re clear. No hordes moving towards us yet, we’ve got a foothold. Jesus fucking Christ, this might actually work.”
Your hands are shaking as you let go of the controls at the news, adrenaline jitters and the cocktail of combat drugs the system automatically injects you with to keep you focused mixing your wires up a bit.
"Fuck me... we made it." You probably didn't intend it as seriously as you sounded, but Foss notices anyway.
"Yeah, well, we're still pretty lucky. God knows what's next after we get resupplied." he calmly states, monitoring something interesting to him back in Fuckboy land.
The waiting was bad enough. This sort of sudden calm never ever lasts long enough. Maybe though, maybe for the first time since you volunteered, you feel like you might pull through in one piece. And that's what's really scary.
Joshua Cook
And with that, I'm calling it a night here. I haven't slept in two days and the caffine high is wearing off, both of which are probably the causes of why I thought I should run this in the current quest related shitstorm.
I'll announce the next thread, likely next week friday around the same time, on twitter here: twitter.com/Raptor_Chan
Send me shitposts about muvluv and I'll try to reply to it in the true spirit of Muv Luv's best girl, the F22.
Night Veeky Forums
Samuel Morales
Dammit Foss! You never aggravate the gods by proclaiming it was all luck! Now like.... 40 fucking Fort Class Are going to pop up and this will end up becoming the game "Get raped by the BETA" all over again!
Also did some searching and thought this might suit the situation considering Takeru Kicked BETA ass to this! youtube.com/watch?v=BR_UN2ty00k
Jackson Stewart
Thanks for running man! Wish it had lasted longer but it was still fun! I'd been hopeing for this kind of a quest for AGES (the puns!)
Alexander Thomas
Thanks for running, man. I'm always up for more mecha quests, so this was fun. See you next time.
Worse. Laser Fort.
Landon Harris
OH GOD!!! I FORGOT THOSE!!! wait.... Those were an unlimited timeline only (If I remember because the BETA at that point had actually learned what warfare was and as such were designing new strands)
