~*~
HERE BE THE BUNNY
~*~
Blue optics scanned the immediate area as sensors swept over the distance, trying to find the enemy. The pilot of the massive mechanical wolf studied the three monitors, ignoring the weight of the safety restraints from habit. The faintest sounds of mechanical whirrs was a constant backdrop as were the quiet clack of gears and the shifting of hidden ammunition cases.
There!
A small blip appeared briefly on the screen of the left monitor, on which was a rough topographic map of the battlefield. He folded his hands in his lap, serenely ignoring the controls that shifted minutely as the limited AI maintained the Mechanical Combat Unit's balance.
"Duran," he said, "Load Iron Cartridge into Shoulder Varigun Rifles."
Outside and above him, the twin varigun rifles cocked as they loaded and primed themselves.
He watched the screen closely and the blip appeared once again, marginally closer, before vanishing once again. He placed his hands on a keyboard and began typing rapidly. There was a soft beep as a target lock appeared on a blob of reds and yellows which stood out against the background of blues and violets on the right monitor. The teen smiled.
"Duran, fire Shoulder Varigun Rifles."
The cockpit jerked slightly from the recoil and the teen's ears were full of the muffled explosions from the firing guns. The center monitor showed a slight ripple of.. of what? And the smoke obscured everything. The pilot cursed and laid his hands on normally ignored controls.
"Duran, fire helm mounted Laser Turrets. Fire hip mounted Flechette Turrets."
The massive mechanical wolf threw it's head up with a long mournful howl, the inertia dampners and the circulator axels the only things keeping the pilot from feeling the movement. Then the wolf stalked forward with surprising silence, speed and grace for a two story mechanical creature on four legs and the laser turrets mounted on both sides of the head just below the ears turned and began firing into the smoke. The hip turrets, shifted, turning to face forward instead of back and began firing also, and kicking up more dust, and revealing the location of the enemy by the sparks that resulted when the flechettes bounced off armor or imbedded itself in vulnerable unarmored spots.
"Found you," he murmured, brown eyes fixed on the center screen, where plumes of smoke and dust flowed at an angle from the rest due to the obstruction posed by the enemy unit. "Duran, prime Triple Barrel Cannon and load Silver Cartridge into Shoulder Mounted Varigun Rifles."
The rifles clacked and clunked as the used cartridge was ejected and the new one loaded. there was a low, deep hum as the cannon mounted on the wolf's belly began to glow with energy. The speaker bleeped as the targeting systems announced successful target lock.
"Hip Turrets and Helm Lasers cease fire. Fire Varigun Rifles and Triple Barrel Cannon."
The hip turrets and lasers ceased firing, and seconds later, the shoulder mounted rifles and the belly mounted cannons began a barrage on the enemy. Mere seconds after the garage began, the invisibility on the enemy unit faded, and a large red cat with a back mounted rifle collapsed.
Immediately, a horn sounded. The barrage stopped.
"The battle is over! The battle is over! The winner is: The Orion Team!"
The announcement from the judge baled through the speakers and the teenager smirked.
"And that's how you moderate your artillery," he said smugly.
"Yeah, yeah, don't get too smug, boy," a gravely voice came out of the communications unit, "I still have millennia on you. I can take down your silly wolf with one shot from my cannons."
"You have to admit though, Ironhide, that I wasn't too bad," the boy laughed.
"You went easy on him," Ironhide griped, "Don't do it if there's a Decepticon nearby."
"And have Bumblebee sulk at me if I get killed? No way! I know better than that!"
"That is good to hear, Samuel Witwicky, now get your squishy aft over here so I can see what damage your Unit has done to you this time."
"Roger that, Ratchet," Sam grinned at the communications unit, "Sam Witwicky, falling back now."
And the mechanical wolf turned and ponderously loped toward a cliff several miles behind him, on which a flotilla of five flashy vehicles waited for him.
There!
A small blip appeared briefly on the screen of the left monitor, on which was a rough topographic map of the battlefield. He folded his hands in his lap, serenely ignoring the controls that shifted minutely as the limited AI maintained the Mechanical Combat Unit's balance.
"Duran," he said, "Load Iron Cartridge into Shoulder Varigun Rifles."
Outside and above him, the twin varigun rifles cocked as they loaded and primed themselves.
He watched the screen closely and the blip appeared once again, marginally closer, before vanishing once again. He placed his hands on a keyboard and began typing rapidly. There was a soft beep as a target lock appeared on a blob of reds and yellows which stood out against the background of blues and violets on the right monitor. The teen smiled.
"Duran, fire Shoulder Varigun Rifles."
The cockpit jerked slightly from the recoil and the teen's ears were full of the muffled explosions from the firing guns. The center monitor showed a slight ripple of.. of what? And the smoke obscured everything. The pilot cursed and laid his hands on normally ignored controls.
"Duran, fire helm mounted Laser Turrets. Fire hip mounted Flechette Turrets."
The massive mechanical wolf threw it's head up with a long mournful howl, the inertia dampners and the circulator axels the only things keeping the pilot from feeling the movement. Then the wolf stalked forward with surprising silence, speed and grace for a two story mechanical creature on four legs and the laser turrets mounted on both sides of the head just below the ears turned and began firing into the smoke. The hip turrets, shifted, turning to face forward instead of back and began firing also, and kicking up more dust, and revealing the location of the enemy by the sparks that resulted when the flechettes bounced off armor or imbedded itself in vulnerable unarmored spots.
"Found you," he murmured, brown eyes fixed on the center screen, where plumes of smoke and dust flowed at an angle from the rest due to the obstruction posed by the enemy unit. "Duran, prime Triple Barrel Cannon and load Silver Cartridge into Shoulder Mounted Varigun Rifles."
The rifles clacked and clunked as the used cartridge was ejected and the new one loaded. there was a low, deep hum as the cannon mounted on the wolf's belly began to glow with energy. The speaker bleeped as the targeting systems announced successful target lock.
"Hip Turrets and Helm Lasers cease fire. Fire Varigun Rifles and Triple Barrel Cannon."
The hip turrets and lasers ceased firing, and seconds later, the shoulder mounted rifles and the belly mounted cannons began a barrage on the enemy. Mere seconds after the garage began, the invisibility on the enemy unit faded, and a large red cat with a back mounted rifle collapsed.
Immediately, a horn sounded. The barrage stopped.
"The battle is over! The battle is over! The winner is: The Orion Team!"
The announcement from the judge baled through the speakers and the teenager smirked.
"And that's how you moderate your artillery," he said smugly.
"Yeah, yeah, don't get too smug, boy," a gravely voice came out of the communications unit, "I still have millennia on you. I can take down your silly wolf with one shot from my cannons."
"You have to admit though, Ironhide, that I wasn't too bad," the boy laughed.
"You went easy on him," Ironhide griped, "Don't do it if there's a Decepticon nearby."
"And have Bumblebee sulk at me if I get killed? No way! I know better than that!"
"That is good to hear, Samuel Witwicky, now get your squishy aft over here so I can see what damage your Unit has done to you this time."
"Roger that, Ratchet," Sam grinned at the communications unit, "Sam Witwicky, falling back now."
And the mechanical wolf turned and ponderously loped toward a cliff several miles behind him, on which a flotilla of five flashy vehicles waited for him.
~*~
TBC
~*~
Cookies to anyone who can figure out what was crossed out here! And yes, looking at the tags on this post counts as cheating.
}
So now I'm going to the Westminster shopping center, and then the Montebello mall, and maybe I'll drop by the library later in the day to take some notes and give the impression that I was actually at school.
and 
and 
anyone who ruins my good day by bugging me for another update.
Quizzes in every class only to come home and get roped into babysitting a bunch of brats.
When Katelyn runs off to tell grandfather, grandfather makes Abraham stand next to the windmill in the backyard as punishment and the kid starts crying. Then at dinner, he wants Banh Out and starts crying even though his mom is making it right in front of him... 
Crybaby anyone?
Am I absentminded or what? In any case, Uncle Qouc came over and was all, "Come over to the front. No one's there so you can Hang out," which literally translate as "Come over and help me take care of this brat!" cause Elizabeth was here well. 
I guess I can't handle babies... 
In anycase, I have to get to class, so I'm gone. I'll update again later! ^^