Mon Apr 23 2012

Mon Apr 23 2072

The Leviathan roars back to life, and it's pissed. It's been shot at without getting to respond, but as soon as BSyde jacks in? Up comes that turret, and soon enough the transport rig is screaming its anger back at the Protectorate troops remaining as the dwarf at her helm guns the engine. It's like something out of a tridflick as the convoy gets rolling again, taking fire from all directions, giving better than they're getting back in return. The convoy starts to move, Bambi driving Cerberus (Who knew a sexbot was more than a fleshlight with legs?) and doing a decent job of it, running interference.

It's a hailstorm of shells and bullets. Rounds bounce off Leviathan, sparks flying up from its bulk while they ricochet off Scabbard. Lighter armored, that truck takes a pounding, holes appearing in her metal and cries of anger rising from the Drone Pilot. Pulling out of the would-be death box, Mustang, Spot, Fairplay and Blindside appear… free and clear. Shot to shit, but free and clear. Miraculously, nobody's dead, and the worst injury is a broken coccyx. The tale of how it was earned will likely be told over beers in Bakersfield, a city that's going to be more than happy to see relief, however token, barreling down the highway.

Meeting up with Blindside's convoy is Tinman's private mass transit system, the five busses of the Corcoran Correctional Breakout. Using the hole punched through by Blindside, they all roll into Bakersfield together, airhorns blaring.

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