ubercharged.net

Originally, I was going to have something up here about taking a break from Eve online, which I don’t even play anymore. Time makes fools of us all, I suppose. Sorry for the long wait, and I’ll see what I can do about getting the next chapter to you faster.

Hey, kids! Do you want to know what the heck is going on? Click on my name at the top of the post, and read anything that has the words “Armored Fortress” at the front!

RED Safehouse, Area 2, Dustbowl – February 20, 1968, 12:20 P.M.

The RED Soldier stood at attention in front of the Announcer’s desk.

“…Reason for mission failure?”

“Major distraction and Spy capture, Commander.”

“Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“No, Commander.”

“Very well. You are hereby sentenced to ninety hours of grunt work and a demotion.”

Soldier sighed. That was it, then.

“Both suspended.”

Or not. Bizarro Murphy’s Law had a way, after all.

“I’m sorry, Commander?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in the middle of a war. I can’t afford to take out a star player for something as paltry as negligence. You’re going to go out there and you’re going to kill, God willing. Dismissed.”

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Point 2A, Dustbowl – February 20th, 1968, 12:21 P.M.

The point this time was located on the top of a shack-like building, with slot windows allowing easy passage for any bullets, missiles, lasers, or plasma charges the RED team would want to send BLU’s way.

The pause between the attacks was part of a strategic ceasefire plan put in place by the RED team. It focused all the CPU power of the remaining points on keeping BLU’s progress in check. The BLU point mainframe fought it, of course, but to open those doors required more power than any battlefield held.

Of course, to continue the Counter-SPaMR attack, the RED computers had to stop keeping the doors from opening. So it was sort of a toss-up.

The RED Mainframe released the doors, and games begun.

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Area 2 BLU Resupply Room, Dustbowl – February 20th, 1968, 12:22 P.M.

“Hard-Hat, what’s with the extra gear-up? All I need to do is bash some heads in.”

“Listen, shorty, I’ve got orders from the Announcer. You need to stand still.”

“There any particulars to this particular , uh… particular?”

“Just aim away from the face, and you’ll be fine.”

“Well, what do I call this thing?”

“We’ve codenamed it ’Sandman’.”

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Point 2A, Dustbowl – February 20th, 1968, 12:24:30 P.M.

Here came the restart.

Both teams heard the same voice, possessed by two very different women.

“Mission begins in thirty seconds.”

The RED Medic checked his new armcannon, mounted over his wrist and filled to the brim with newly-developed vampiric flechettes. Those BLUs were good for something, after all.  How they got the energy from the flechettes back to him was officially outside his field, and thus, not his problem.

“Mission begins in twenty seconds.”

The BLU Scout checked the mass of tubing on his right arm. Were those 9-volt batteries stuck in at the elbow? All in all, the rig was evocative of their last technological breakthrough, the pretentiously-named Sigma Cannon.

That one did not end well.

“Mission begins in ten seconds.”

The Pyro stood. And waited. And waited some more.

“Five…”

Waited.

“Four…”

Cracked his knuckles.

“Three…”

Waited.

“Two…”

Clutched his flamethrower.

“One!”

Flipped a thumbs-up to the Medic.

The gates opened and the sirens wailed, but nobody on the BLU team really noticed. They were a bit occupied with the invincible, gold-colored fire-spewing RED Pyro, who was enjoying himself just a bit too much.

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“I! AM! ON! FIRE!”

The BLU advance had been thrown into disarray by the  flames. The RED Pyro was by no means invincible anymore, but the medic behind him and the rather troublesome rest of the RED team meant no one could get near them.

Running away, as he often did, the BLU scout noticed the mass of machinery bolted onto his left arm. Figuring it was now or never, he took aim. the cannon’s innards rumbled, the barrel glowed white, and a large ball of electricity soared through the air. While impressive, the shot had the side effect of knocking the BLU Scout flat on his tin-plated rear end, which meant he missed everything that followed.

First, the Medic and Pyro froze. They were still alive, but the suits completely failed to respond. The RED team, if you’ll pardon the pun, sort of lost their fire at this point. The two taking point both downed by a single weapon? A good cause for retreat.

The BLU Demoman, now devoid of any burning sensations whatsoever, waltzed up to the stunned pair.

“All ye fine dandies…” He took a swig of his alcohol. “Prancin’ about. Not so tough now, is ya! IS YA!”

The Medic said nothing. The Pyro said something. No one was quite sure what.

“Well, then. If yer gonna be like that, I’ll just take mah friends an’ go.”

As the BLU team rushed to the point without him, the BLU Demoman took his time planting each individual STICK bomb around the two REDs’ feet. As he swaggered out the door, he gave a drunken salute and yelled, “Cheers, mates!”

The RED Medic and Pyro reappeared in the SPaMR room half a minute later.

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The BLU Scout looked over all he had wrought, and it was good.

The RED team was retreating to the second point. That was good.

The Announcer had congratulated him on a job well done. That too, was good.

A stray RED grenade had landed between his feet, and was about to explode.

That was not good.

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Point 2B, Dustbowl – February 20th, 1968, 12:58 P.M.

The RED Soldier had little time, but he went at it anyway.

“WHAT was that, you scum-sucking maggots!?”

“Soldier, you really must calm down. Your blood pressure-”

“Is FINE, Professor von Tooth Fairy! If I see another run like that, I’ll…!”

The RED Pyro interrupted the Soldier’s righteous indignation with a mumbling tirade of his own. We’re not sure, exactly, but it’s rather certain that it contained every expletive he knew.

“MY mother is dead and buried! Do not TELL me what happened about my mother!”

The Pyro was in the middle of a retort, when the Announcer interrupted their verbal combat.

“Alert! Our perimeter is being breached!”

All arguements momentarily forgotten, the Soldier and Pyro turned with the rest of the team, weapons facing the doorway.

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Ahh, it’s good to be back. Let me know how this one turned out.