Demonstrate proper trigger discipline by shooting the bandits only when the bullets would intersect their brains.
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Shoot the bandits, a vassal owes fealty in exchange for protection or whatever right? And one of those bullets could hit you out of all people too.
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(Hidden Roll)Footsteps and gunshots, the chase resumes. There's a flicker of motion, a scream, and then death. The bandit your vassal shoved the corpse at? They're dead now, a hole blown through their throat. You didn't catch what happened - it was just in the edge of your vision, but you think something had crawled out of the corpse. Their comrades simply grit their teeth and push on, pausing only to turn a flamethrower upon the bodies.
Well whatever that was, it's not a threat to you. Not that the bandits are either. They're clearly uncomfortable with you, an ominous presence at their side looming concerningly close, but they're still hesitant to engage and suffer your wrath.
Good, frees your attention to more important things. Like admonishing your new vassal for her gun safety. Honestly, that should've been one of the first things you're taught - keep your finger off the trigger unless you mean to shoot!
"S-senior is this the best time?"
Of course it is, as they say - there's no time like the present. Besides, she's fine! Granted, those bullets
are streaking ever closer, but this demonstration will only take a moment!
You raise your guns.
(Hidden Roll)(Hidden Roll)The revolvers being swung around here are but tools, interfaces to trigger their cartridges, vessels to direct what ensues. Your guns are different. Your guns are not mere tools, they are extensions of your very being. Do you pull a trigger to walk? Do you think about how your legs must move? No, you just walk. And you just
fire.
You do not comprehend what happens, but understand it at some deep instinctual level, you had to - you are why it happens.
Something changes in the universe.
Something is drawn from your magazines.
Something happens, and death is unleashed upon the world.
A bar of light rips through a bandit's head and a tree splinters behind their corpse. Embedded in its trunk is a miniature metal spear; it had been smelted by gunfire, forged by wind, and quenched by blood. Lazily, you sweep your gun across their comrades and the storm tears through their ranks.
That plating they're wearing?
It does nothing.This, this is proper trigger safety.
"Your gun doesn't have a trigger!"
Sounds like a skill issue to you. Speaking of which-
CRACK! A bullet whizzes through the space you formerly occupied. Your thrusters aren't bad for avoiding fire either, the acceleration profile makes them better suited for proactive maneuvers than reflexive dodges though. Your impressive rate of fire certainly doesn't hurt either, leaving the bandits more preoccupied with scrambling away than aiming, accuracy isn't the best though, these are more suited to closer ranges like these you note.
Your right SMG is the first to run dry, magazine dropping to the ground and dissipating like the spears before it. Maintaining suppressive fire with your left hand you lower your spent gun. A pneumatic thump. A click. The sound of a fresh magazine locking into place, launched by the shield-shaped module at your hip. 25-round capacity. Your body begins preparing another.
An ominous drone fills the air.
(Hidden Roll)They resemble rat-sized grubs carved from bamboo with strange glassy domes for heads and dragonfly wings. They fly from the same direction as your vassal's container, the one she dropped. The one with the hexagonal compartments, some of which are now open.
The flamethrowers become the only sanctuary, but two have fallen. One by your hand, another by your vassal's poor trigger safety, and the very first thing the swarm do is secure the bodies. The two flamethrowers left will be the only ones the bandits have, worse, in their zealous pursuit of your vassal, in their desperate scramble from your gunfire, they had fallen out of formation. Most are far from the safety of the flames.
Those that run away, they have the best prospects it seems. The swarm is more concerned with the others, the ones that run in blind panic, the ones that run towards the flames, they seem to be herding them, driving them towards the flamethrowers and keeping the flamethrowers separated. To their wielders they offer a simple ultimatum - burn their comrades or face the wrath of the swarm.
That moment of indecision is all it takes. A grub darts in, its approach answered by a wild sweep of flame, the maneuver is a feint, the real assault coming from another side, another grub closing in and
detonating, its wings dissipating, its head shattering as a direct blast rips through its body and into its quarry. A strike aimed
through the gourd and towards the wielder behind it. Prioritizing the disablement of the weapon above all else.
They act as if there is some very real intelligence behind their actions, they act without regard for their own existences. It seems your vassal isn't
entirely hopeless.
The situation quickly becomes a rout, the bandits' coordination finally breaking fully as they scatter and flee. So leaves the last measure of protection against you. Their armor, worthless; their speed outmatched. Right now they are at your mercy, even if they are unaware of that fact.
> [] Kill them all and loot the bodies. They shot to kill, you will do the same.> [] Capture one for questioning. Maybe they'll know something your vassal doesn't, like gun safety.> [] Spare them, tell them to spread word of your deeds. Death can only deter the living.> [] (Write in)
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Topic: Turbulence (SG) - Storm, Web, Casket (Read 5624 times)