Story [Issue 8] Smoky XT Chronicles: Confrontation

[Tommy60 406]

Smoky XT Chronicles: Confrontation

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I, having convinced my self that I was experiencing a software glitch in my thought processor, ignored the mysterious voice coursing through my circuits, and continued my trek up the hill. I have remained silent since the beginning of our vertical assent, and Milan has mirrored my persona. We are nearing a hill on our vertical ascent up the mountain's long, grueling slopes. As we roll over the apex of the small protrusion, we are met with the horrifying sight of hundreds of alien tanks, hovering to and fro in massive color-coded platoons, each being led by a lone grey strategist, whose weapons of choice appear to be very similar in style to the <<Ricochet>> gun. But that is not the current object of my companion and myself's attentions. In the middle of the enemy encampment rests a small circular area, distinct from its surroundings by being inhabited solely by dirt. In the musty ring, I could clearly make out the figure of a red-coated alien with a weapon that bore resemblance to the <<firebird>> turret hovering triumphantly around the crippled figure of --by Maksim's smooth head -- a dictator and thunder-equipped tank with the Champion paint! Painstakingly, I am apparently the lone member of my group able to pry my optics away from the nearly impossible figure a hundred or so meters before us, and take note of his advantageous adversary taking what appeared to be a victory lap around the dirt-boded ring. After his (or hers, or maybe its) circuit was completed, the thing slowly returned its gaze to it helpless prey, whose self-healing nanobots were failing to compensate for the constant damage being inflicted by the smoldering flames on nearly every surface of the golden warrior's chassis. On a moment's impulse, Milan and myself activate full sets of supplies, leap over the ridge of the hill, and fire simultaneously at the lone offender, who is conveniently isolated from the rest of his race. My shot, coming a moment before my partner's, tears a rather large gap in the starboard plating of the reddened alien armor. Following my shell, Milan's double powered shot pops neatly inside the hole, and explodes on contact with the most externally protruding object in the gap. The result is a momentarily flaming, and now exploding hunk of molten slag. The slag, being ejected from its former coordinates, is sent flying in two directions, each path being traversed by either the remnants of the turret, or the fragments of the hovering chassis. The latter, after flying over a few squadrons of enemies, lands amongst a large collective of boxes, most likely a storage facility of some alien sort. A flame reaches out, and contacts one of the containers in its proximity, causing a massive, cascading explosion amongst all of its brothers and sisters.

 

A good third of the army is engulfed in the explosion and annihilated within ten seconds. Knowing that we still have two thirds to battle through to obtain our golden prize, my accomplice and myself dash into the somewhat chaotic crowd of flying crafts, at what would be a V-shape, if mapped out. Activating case after case of nanobots to fix our ever-collecting damage, we deal twice as much damage as we are sustaining. I guess the reason for this insane success up to present must be due to the fact that we are charging through mostly, black drones, who all require complex commands in order to function as a formidable fighting force. Any variants of the color become primary targets, thanks to the helpful consulting of my combat computer. About halfway through the now-organizing mass, Milan and I angle our paths toward the enter, and likewise, the dirt ring, and more importantly, the reason for our idiotic assault. Quickly rolling the swarming rows and columns, I can gun down a good many of them in seconds. Before a gap could be filled by replacements, I am able to catch a glimpse of my desired location and its inhabitant. That anonymous, legendary machine seems to be advantage of its temporary freedom from the army's attention, and is letting his small robotic aides do their work. At the next possible glance, I can see the beaming gold paint that I have grown used to over the past few weeks, in all of its protective glory, change orientation along with its bearer's tank and turret, which are currently in a combative mode. Within a few more dirty, loud, and hectic seconds, I finally reach the central area, and Milan joins the vicinity in just a few short moments.

For the first time since our second ascent up the mountain, he spoke; and in a rather bitter manner. "I thought you were dead, you traitorous piece of slag!"

His apparent friend responds reassuringly, "Yeah, well today must be your lucky day, because your wish might just come true if you keep up that talking!"

"Lunga help us..." is my only thought.

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Next Issue: Reunion

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Edited September 26, 2017 by Hexed

[hogree 4,179]

By Maksim's smooth head, that was a great chapter! :D

[chriswu 25]

By Bruce's fuzzy head, I agree! :P

[r_BLASTOISE-T120 241]

by tommys even more fuzzy head, i agree :P

[Flaminghotfries 0]

good 1 make a next 1 again!!!! :D

[deadmarin 0]

hello I think you should make war planes and bombers and you should make a gatlin gun but in a canon way plz make these things I said

[meronnatu 151]

and wat will it cost then,, alot of crystals :blink:

[donut70 97]

excuse me Tommy60 but, WHERE IS THE NEXT PART?

[pokemonjoe70 4]

MAKE ISSUE 9 NOWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

or I will find your tank and kill it again and again

[iron-man_0007 73]

I love smoky xt