“Like f*ckin’ hell!” the old man yelled over comms.
Gunner sneered in a way that signified he was relishing the exchange. The more they protested, the more damage he could inflict: physical AND psychological.
They didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, Gunner saw the scrapped together remains of Mel’s Cobra 3 exit Beaumont’s port docking bay.
“Well well well well…if the little birdie hasn’t arrived to play,” he said over public comms.
“Oh I’m here you wall eyed bastard…and I’ve got f*ckin’ company,” Mel seethed.
Gunner grimaced as more Junker fighters poured out of the open bay doors of Beaumont. CSVs, CSFs, Collectors, Recyclers, and even two cripled Rhino freighters that looked like they were being held together by spit and prayers.
“You’ve gotta be f*cking kidding me…” he muttered to himself. “All this for some lone Xeno-deserter b*tch!?” he screamed over public comms.
“Well unlike you…this b*tch has friends,” Mel broadcasted.
“All fighters, break and engage!” Gunner roared.
The six other Xenos he had bullied/convinced/coerced into flying with him on his raid powered up their weapons and split the engage the incoming ragtag group of Junker fighters in a pincer move.
“I got ‘em, Cobra 1!” Metcalf called out as he launched himself towards one of the shambling Rhino freighters.
Purple light ripped through the hull of Metcalf’s Starflier.
“I’m burning!! I’m burning!!! AAARRRRGGKKKkk….” Melcalf’s blood curdling shrieks filled the comms as his ship was torn apart.
“F*ckin’ Junkers…” Gunner breathed.
“All Xenos, hailing all Xenos! They have experimental tech! Repeat: they have experimental tech!” he said, transmitting to all ships.
Even within the scope of Gunner’s myopic focus, he knew that he had just doomed his men.
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