Nothing, except maybe a link to this thread on your next video!
The dark wrapped around the lithe frame of Agile Vanguard's speeder, as he scanned the horizon with his excellent military-grade night vision goggles. His mark should be here. Captain Bhurt had warned him that the mark would be armed to the teeth and backed up by some of the best support staff and bodyguards that the Baton Bay division of the Duo Imperium Empire could provide.
It has been three months, Vanguard thought to himself. Three long, hard months of fighting to get the intel necessary to locate the secret homebase of the New London Hit Squad, notorious for their hit-and-run long-range tactics on the N.O.I convoys. Finally, in the wreck of a Baton Bay Department Of Sanitation truck, on Pier 9, they had found the remnants of a plan. Probably left behind by the enemy forces because of the surprise attack that came out of nowhere.
P0rthos, I'll avenge you. P0rthos had been a friend. A convoy driver. He'd never been fast with his guns, Vanguard thought bitterly. He'd stayed until the end, going down with his Defender to make sure the weapons convoy headed to the Foundry base of the N.O.I got through, saluting to Vanguard as railgun shots ripped through his hull.
To think it would be here. The Lighthouse, it had been known, back when the N.O.I owned the base. A famous harbour base, which had been lost to the infamous "claw offensive" led by Captain Blastian.
He saw the converted patrol light hover over his previous position, casting shadows across the jagged rocks. Then he saw it.
A Juggernaut. Twelve guns, six of them the heaviest explosive cannon prototypes ever built. Written in red on the hull was the word "Marauder".
It's time. Vanguard switched on his seeking radar and pushed the throttle to full, drifting out of the shallows and into the fray. He knew his location had been revealed. Intel predicted four of the advanced support-class "Enforcer" prototypes to be accompanying the captain of the Marauder on his tour of the base. He saw them now, forming up a tesla shield wall around the Marauder as it sluggishly started to bring its six starboard side guns to bear. The enforcers themselves were part of the Hit Squad, with their infamous red-painted railguns.
"Your puny shields are not going to help you here, you idiots," muttered Vanguard as he flipped the switches on his nitrous release, and stabbing the "N2O" button in the nick of time as a volley of blast and explosive shots whistled past him, followed closely by the characteristic high-pitched whines of railguns. "I have a little surprise for you."
Seconds later, he swerved left, drifting with the nitro pulse. The enemy enforcers could not see, with the cloud of blue smoke obscuring their vision, further addled by their own shields, the ghostly white of an incoming torpedo.
The four were instantly obliterated by the sudden attack from below. Enforcer armor aas not designed for this, a fact that Agile Vanguard knew very well. "I'd pray for your souls but then again, you're only going to be answering for your crimes," he said coldly.
Firing his overboost up for one more burst of speed, he swerved right, looping around the rocks as he was showered with sparks and rock chips, while the Marauder emptied its cannon bays again. The Marauder was clearly taking in water from his previous attack, but just that would not be enough to sink it's vast size.
As he looped around, he prepared his ace card. With help from Isak, he'd loaded a "silver bullet" into his blast cannon. A round with hyper cryogenic properties. He cocked the cannon, and casually nitroed out.
Before the Marauder could fire, its weapons system control room was hit by a round.
Inside.
Everything was fire.
And everything was ice.
It was as if time froze.
The captain of the Marauder was desperately trying to call the Weapons Control Room for reports, when, to his horror, he saw three of the N.O.I's finest Dreadnoughts come out of the fog. At the same time, he was hailed.
"Who is this?"
"You must be Captain Isak. We haven't met. I'm the captain of the 'Speeder'. You may know me as the 'Ghost of the Phantom Blade.' "
A shiver ran down Isak's spine. This was the legendary fleetkiller. He'd seen the reports, of course. One month ago, there were reports of a ghost on the water. A ship that disappeared as quickly as it appeared. With a weapon that was invisible to radar. Shipwrecks were found with damage as if they had been impaled by a spear from the ocean. "Ghost of the Phantom Blade" was what HQ had called him. A highly skilled speeder who dodged bullets like they didn't exist, who was one with the night. The fleetkiller.
"Mercy! I don't wish to die!", He exclaimed, terrified of the sheer presence of this person here.
"Sure. You were never a target in the first place. Boys, disable him!"
The Dreadnoughts fired at this, shooting grappling hooks laden with EMP grenades. The engines were disabled along with the entire control systems as the flagship of the D.I.E was dragged back to N.O.I headquarters.
***
I only chose this mission because of the bodyguards, thought Agile Vanguard as he sat on the pub stool of Harpo's Tavern, drinking the last of the four tankards of sugar water that he'd been treated to by his mates in the Dreadnought fleet and the operator. He'd been a shooter when P0rthos had gone down. He'd applied for the riskiest combat program in the N.O.I after that. The Speeder project. He'd worked obsessively hard until he became a legend in the Forces. There had been no pilot better than him, nobody who could take him in a one-on-one duel. Then he'd worked himself even harder. Building a weapon that would allow him to engage multiple enemies at once. A "phantom blade". Captain Sinklair helped him. They'd both been friends with P0rthos. He'd been the operator for this op.
He finished his glass, and walked off into the night. He didn't feel like he'd won. To him, he'd only have his revenge when P0rthos' sacrifice would be honored. When the D.I.E burned down to the ground, along with their vile forces of evil.
The night embraced him as it always did, as he walked home with the slow, determined gait of a tired soldier.
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