Friday, August 1, 2014

Heavy Type - The Jolly Rogers: Shiver my guns! Chapter 1

by Bernard Nova

Chapter 1: Exercise

"Galahad Lips! For the umpteenth time, I must tell you. Would you mind not making some modification to you strider?" MacDonald Devin screamed at the two huge size 13 boots under the Fire Dragon strider. "Hey! Deafy! Do you hear me?" MacDonald Devin was the mercenary team, Jolly Rogers’ chief mechanic. ‘Mac’ or ‘Dev’ as he known as to the techs and the ‘Rogers. "Mac, I just making repairs that’s all ! Look, her mortar went haywire yesterday. Instead of pointing to the sky, those useless shafts twiddled like a cockroach’s feelers! That’s not all only. My HUD would just go blank in the heat of combat!" Lips explained as he crawled his way out the strider’s undercarriage. "Aha! So it’s payback time now, eh? Trust you to cramp so much systems into it." Mac gloated.

Galahad scowled at his remark and stared at the blue-white Fire-Dragon strider. Her armor was pocked-marked with autocannon fire with an occasional basketball sized crater on the top carapace. He turned his attention onto a patched section somewhat on the piloting compartment. That section had armor plates that looked newer than the rest of the strider. Galahad Lips winced with an imaginary pain for that area was once hit by an anti-gear missile. Behind the armor was the pilot of the strider. He remembered during the War of the Alliance when the AST lines he was guarding was being overrun by GREL infantry. The enemy kept on coming, nothing short of death could stop them on their tracks. He stood firmly, firing whatever he has to the approaching GREL troopers. Opposing fire was so intense that he swore he could hear shells hitting his strider and bouncing off her tough armor. Several times, he was shaken by a dull ‘thud’. Mortar shells, no doubt about it, Galahad mumbled with a smirk. The frenzied attack went on for an hour until the CEF forces was reduced to pockets of GREL troops making hasty retreats. Only then, Galahad allowed himself the luxury of relaxing himself.

A flaming arrow streaked towards the lone Fire-Dragon strider from a hidden position at an eye blurring speed. It exploded on the ‘head’ of the strider. The strider wobbled for a few seconds and straighted itself almost immediately. Galahad wheezed laboriously as he fought with the mangled controls to keep the strider up. He had been reduced to a mass of redden and blacken flesh by the missile. Painful memories indeed, he thought as he walked towards to the showers.

Siegfried’s Heavy Gear, a Razorback-Peacemaker sped through the sands of the Badlands trying to catch the silvery, black Snake Eye Mamba. The Black Mamba fitted with stealth systems weaved left and right silently like a ghost in flight. Impatient, Siegfried squeezed on the "Fire" trigger, a volley of heavy duty slugs flew from the Razorback’s Very Heavy Autocannon. The shot went wide and sands below was stained red by the practice rounds. Ivy let off a wry smile as she accelerated her Gear to full speed, guides it towards a high sand dune and turned around to face olde Sic’ s Razorback. Siegfried muttered a curse as he lost Ivy’s Snake EyeBlack Mamba over the dune. Stopping just meters from the dune, the Razorback Heavy Gear cocked it’s head left then right, scanning for that elusive "enemy" Gear. Unknown to him, a black barrell peered out of the base of the dune. Ivy giggled as she trained the sniper laser on Siegfried, "Always so direct in his fighting techniques. Mono e mono...........somebody better tell him to update on the latest tactics on warfare." Then a dull thud shook her Gear and another and another. On the surface, an apple red Jaguarundi Heavy Gear had dropped grenades on the sand dune. Explosions threw geysers of sand into the air as the Jaguarundi readied it’s medium autocannon. When the sand had settled, a silvery shine was spotted by the pilot of the Gear, John Ogilvy. He switched the autocannon to single fire mode and discharged a round into the area. Almost instantaneously, the Snakeye Black Mamba bursts out from the sand, snapping off shots after shots at the Jaguarundi. Being a highly advanced Heavy Gear, the Jaguarundi swerved like a matial arts master to avoid the in coming shots before lunging foward to deliver a shoulder block. Out of nowhere, a round slammed into the Jaguarundi’s head, staining it with bright red ink. "Damn!" John swore as his Gear shut down, his HUD flashing three red giant words: YOU ARE DEAD!

A mottled grey Jaguar Heavy Gear standing on top of a sand eroded hill put down it’s heavy rifle from standing shoulder position to it’s side. The Snake EyeBlack Mamba turned to it, stuck up a thumbs-up sign. The grey Jaguar raised it’s left hand as a sign of acknowledgement. "Okay, guys. Exercise cut!." Instantly, everyone tuned their comm system to the Jolly Roger’s command channel. "Ray Vahn here. Lips ordered us to head back to the base. A.S.A.P. Seems that we got an interested party who want kick us some unfortunate’s butt." "Roger, Ray. We will be there in say...10 minutes time. Hunter out." Upon finishing the message, all the Gears started up their V-engines and sped into the horizon.

[Next: Chapter 2]

[Bernard Nova] [Heavy Type]

The above article was archived from Heavy Type: A Heavy Gear Fan Fiction Website as part of the Hermes 72 Archive Project. It has been edited from its original form and is used without permission.

Heavy Gear Roleplaying Game


Hermes 72 - Heavy Gear RPG - Most artwork Copyright 2002 Dream Pod 9, Inc.