Fighting Retreat (MPC 88Y: 78C - The Hunted)
Jul 17, 2021 10:06:56 GMT
Post by Bezil on Jul 17, 2021 10:06:56 GMT
MPC 88Y – 78C: The Hunted
I would like posts for this MPC please.
Bezil’s fever dream continued. As the furred Gumdramon laid in great discomfort as he tried to sleep off his disease, he was thankfully in no mortal danger. His fever had levelled and was in fact slowly reducing, but that would be no comfort to him in his dreams. Far more vivid and real to him than he was used to, it seemed his elevated temperature was bringing to the surface old memories that he had inherited from his father Owen’s data. And thus, the dream that began with him meeting the old guard of the 7/71st Recon, back when they had been sworn to the long lost and forgotten DWR, continued.
Bezil was riding through the dry barren landscape of the Western Flatlands, the wind rushing against his fur. Under him was a large motorcycle, rigged with armor and other wartime equipment. And in front of him was the driver of the recon cycle – one Captain Jaelin Gaomon. Bezil could only see the back of his khaki tunic and the back of his blue furred head, but all he knew was that Jaelin had tasked him to keep an eye out as they moved across the land.
Bezil knew deep down that this Jaelin was the previous incarnation of his father Owen, back when he had actually been involved in war, before he chose to no longer pursue it and raise a family. But as the experience felt so real to Bezil, he routinely kept a lookout, left, right and behind. After a few minutes, Jaelin spoke up again.
“It’s gonna be a hard fight ahead, Bezil.” the Gaomon said, not turning his head, but the wind brought his words to Bezil’s ears regardless. “I’ve just received intelligence of the path ahead. Tactimon’s forces have advanced to try and cut us off from our headquarters. They know we’re coming, and they have us outgunned two to one. Our force of five recon cycles only have hope of stealth and speed to get through.”
“Yes, sir, but… how can these cycles deal with the enemy?” Bezil asked. Jaelin made a scoffing noise, but didn’t sound angered in his answer.
“As you have witnessed, we have machine guns to deal with child levels, and rockets for adult levels. However, we have Perfect levels ahead, and these machines are no match for them. So, this Gaomon father of yours… did he teach you how to ride these?”
“...no, sir.” Bezil answered, truthfully.
“Shame, but expected, these models are probably after his time.” Jaelin replied, not unkindly. “If it comes to battle, Bezil, I will have to dismount and evolve. Of this squad, only I can evolve to Perfect. I want you to do your best to defend this vehicle if that happens, you understand?”
“...yes, sir.” was all really Bezil could say in answer to that. He paused, wanting to ask something more, sensing that this may be the only opportunity he had to talk to Jaelin. Even if all this happened in his feverish dream, he wanted to know. “Sir, why has the republic fallen into war like this?”
“Short answer, our superiors modelled it from what they saw of the human world then they got a glimpse of it.” Jaelin replied, gruffly. “Worked out for a while, but turns out we digimon are too different to humans to make it work like that. After all, why would a Mega level like Tactimon obey a chain of command that made him subordinate to a civilian Adult level? It was lofty stupidity from the start. Some dickhead digimon got to see the human world for the first time and thought it would be a brilliant idea to model a society based on it. Oh yeah, it worked out for a while, but unlike humans, us digimon evolve, individually, exponentially… of course someone like Tactimon would come along and smash it all down…”
“Then…” Bezil had to choose his words carefully here. “Why do you still fight for it, sir?”
“Because this isn’t about my ideology at this point, mate.” Jaelin replied. “It’s about the digimon I care about. My family, my friends, my subordinates. They look up to me to get through this hell, and even though I only see fire ahead, I’ll get them through it.”
Words: 713/1000
I would like posts for this MPC please.
Bezil’s fever dream continued. As the furred Gumdramon laid in great discomfort as he tried to sleep off his disease, he was thankfully in no mortal danger. His fever had levelled and was in fact slowly reducing, but that would be no comfort to him in his dreams. Far more vivid and real to him than he was used to, it seemed his elevated temperature was bringing to the surface old memories that he had inherited from his father Owen’s data. And thus, the dream that began with him meeting the old guard of the 7/71st Recon, back when they had been sworn to the long lost and forgotten DWR, continued.
Bezil was riding through the dry barren landscape of the Western Flatlands, the wind rushing against his fur. Under him was a large motorcycle, rigged with armor and other wartime equipment. And in front of him was the driver of the recon cycle – one Captain Jaelin Gaomon. Bezil could only see the back of his khaki tunic and the back of his blue furred head, but all he knew was that Jaelin had tasked him to keep an eye out as they moved across the land.
Bezil knew deep down that this Jaelin was the previous incarnation of his father Owen, back when he had actually been involved in war, before he chose to no longer pursue it and raise a family. But as the experience felt so real to Bezil, he routinely kept a lookout, left, right and behind. After a few minutes, Jaelin spoke up again.
“It’s gonna be a hard fight ahead, Bezil.” the Gaomon said, not turning his head, but the wind brought his words to Bezil’s ears regardless. “I’ve just received intelligence of the path ahead. Tactimon’s forces have advanced to try and cut us off from our headquarters. They know we’re coming, and they have us outgunned two to one. Our force of five recon cycles only have hope of stealth and speed to get through.”
“Yes, sir, but… how can these cycles deal with the enemy?” Bezil asked. Jaelin made a scoffing noise, but didn’t sound angered in his answer.
“As you have witnessed, we have machine guns to deal with child levels, and rockets for adult levels. However, we have Perfect levels ahead, and these machines are no match for them. So, this Gaomon father of yours… did he teach you how to ride these?”
“...no, sir.” Bezil answered, truthfully.
“Shame, but expected, these models are probably after his time.” Jaelin replied, not unkindly. “If it comes to battle, Bezil, I will have to dismount and evolve. Of this squad, only I can evolve to Perfect. I want you to do your best to defend this vehicle if that happens, you understand?”
“...yes, sir.” was all really Bezil could say in answer to that. He paused, wanting to ask something more, sensing that this may be the only opportunity he had to talk to Jaelin. Even if all this happened in his feverish dream, he wanted to know. “Sir, why has the republic fallen into war like this?”
“Short answer, our superiors modelled it from what they saw of the human world then they got a glimpse of it.” Jaelin replied, gruffly. “Worked out for a while, but turns out we digimon are too different to humans to make it work like that. After all, why would a Mega level like Tactimon obey a chain of command that made him subordinate to a civilian Adult level? It was lofty stupidity from the start. Some dickhead digimon got to see the human world for the first time and thought it would be a brilliant idea to model a society based on it. Oh yeah, it worked out for a while, but unlike humans, us digimon evolve, individually, exponentially… of course someone like Tactimon would come along and smash it all down…”
“Then…” Bezil had to choose his words carefully here. “Why do you still fight for it, sir?”
“Because this isn’t about my ideology at this point, mate.” Jaelin replied. “It’s about the digimon I care about. My family, my friends, my subordinates. They look up to me to get through this hell, and even though I only see fire ahead, I’ll get them through it.”
Words: 713/1000