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| The Battle of Baringer (I); Bardock - Solo PRP | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 4 2015, 12:55 AM (158 Views) | |
| Future Gohan | Jul 4 2015, 12:55 AM Post #1 |
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The Harbinger
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[align=center] [/align]"Shit, communication with Vegeta's been severed," grumbled Reiko, with a tinge of fear audible in his voice. Reiko was a low class warrior that, from what Bardock understood, had been fighting in the Battle at Triad since it'd started a few days ago. When reinforcements arrived a few days ago, Bardock'd been a part of the relief force. Now that things were going sour, he wasn't sure how he felt about that. A literal horde of PTO ships were closing in on Baringer in unified formation, and the Saiyan Fleet was en route to Meat, literally millions of light years away. A different Saiyan, with shaggy brown hair and an indistinguishable accent that'd probably been picked up on some strange world, surveyed the rest of the room with a degree of urgency. They had a few hours of prep time before the fleet came down on them hard. With most of the Battlegroups over Meat, there wouldn't be much to defend the planet with. Baringer had a Saiyan population of just under a hundred, with Battlegroups spread out over coastlines and the capitals of dead countries. There were maybe ten Battlegroups in total, each one comprised of a handful of Vanguards that were made up of a small number of Saiyans. Bardock, for the purposes of the Battle at Triad, was a member of the Sixth Elite Battlegroup. Having just come off of the successful conquest of a foreign planet, his personal morale was high despite the bleak odds. "We've got to hold out 'til reinforcements arrive," the brown-haired Saiyan said. "Once they realize the fleet's here, they'll come barreling back. I don't know how long it'll take them to get there without a check, but a bunch of grunts shouldn't trouble us much." Bardock hopped off of the table he was sitting on and put a hand on his hip. "You. What's your name?" The other Saiyan turned to face him, expression full of malice. Once he was sure that Bardock wasn't hiding any insignia, he spoke up with a fair bit of conviction. "Sekihan," came the reply. Sekihan wore a full set of Elite Battle Armor, complete with the black undersuit and the special gold-tipped boots. He lacked any shoulder pads, which was typical of a lot of super elites, who were allowed to personalize their armor in any fashion they liked, which often set them apart in the sea of faces that was the Saiyan military. "Super Elite and coordinator of Battlegroup #37, in charge of the defense of Baringer." Sekihan's voice was full of a smug satisfaction that Bardock was used to dealing with. He resisted the urge to put the dark-skinned Saiyan on his ass and strode over to the table with his head held high. Using his left hand, Bardock circled a number of areas on the holographic map of the planet, which he figured were prime invasion points. As a planet cracker himself, he was well aware of what avenues Baringer could best be assaulted from. "Assuming they know what they're doing, they're not going to hit us where we're strong first. You don't hit the strong part of a cuirass to crack it," Bardock explained. With a quick gesture, he pulled up a number of statistics on the planet's size and former population. "This place had three million regular military personnel, all armed with energy weapons. We have about a hundred fighters spread out over the same distance." "What makes you think we're going to do that much better than they did?" "We're Saiyans," Sekihan grunted. "They couldn't defend this shithole of a planet because they weren't Saiyans. If they'd had an ounce of tactical intelligence, they would've shot us down in our pods before we could make contact. We're a different breed, Bardock. Even low-class scum like you could've wiped this place clean." Bardock didn't ask how Sekihan knew his name, but instead risked a glance at the rest of the room. Their expressions, much like his own, said little about how they felt. He could already feel the frustration mounting inside of him, but he held his tongue. Despite the fact that he could've mopped the floor with a majority of the fighters in the room, there was no point in making a situation worse. A shitty call committed to by one hundred warriors was better than a perfect call committed to by ten. "What we're going to do is set up along the strongest fortifications on the coast and keep a contingent of fighters in the capital. Once they set foot on the planet, we'll collapse on them and try to spread. I'll need one of our commanders to run some interference in the atmosphere for as long as possible." As if on cue, a large, balding Saiyan stepped up to the plate. His armor was full of cracks and creaked with his every step; his face and arms were covered by disfiguring scars that even Saiyan physiology couldn't heal from. Bardock made no comment on these things while the man, whose name he vaguely recalled to be Pattchoy, spoke up. "My men can handle that," he said. "We can set out in about an hour and get ready to intercept some landing pods. Some'll get through, but it shouldn't be anything you can't handle." Bardock said nothing of Pattchoy's stupidity. A dozen men weren't going to be able to stop an entire warfleet from touching down on Baringer, no matter how confident they were in their combat skills. Pattchoy's men were, on average, only about twenty-thousand units strong. They'd eventually be overrun by grunts free-floating down. Bardock estimated that they'd have about an hour of free-fire before they were attacked in orbit. "Great. Reiko, do you think that you and Gerkin can coordinate the spread of our forces? I don't want this turning into a shit show," Sekihan requested. Bardock glanced over at Reiko, who frowned a second and surveyed the map. It was obvious that Bardock's words were already sinking in. Unlike Sekihan, Reiko hadn't made Elite status through combat alone. He wasn't very decisive or strong, but he was a great tactician. "Y-yeah," he said. "I should be able to coordinate some coastal defense. How many fighters do the PTO have en route? I know it's a full fleet... and there tend to be at least a hundred men aboard each ship." "It's looking like we're going to be outnumbered about a hundred to one," Sekihan admitted. "Only half of their fleet is coming down on us. The rest are probably going to hang back in orbit to ensure that our boys don't make it back in time." [align=center]1,250 / 4,000[/align] |
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| Future Gohan | Jul 4 2015, 01:47 AM Post #2 |
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The Harbinger
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Pods fell like rain through the atmosphere of Baringer, earning Bardock's attention. A lone cigarette hung between his lips like an anchor of fate, keeping him rooted to the spot while the sky lit up. A myriad of explosions signaled the arrival of Pattchoy's squad in lower orbit, but over half of the falling pods continued to crash against the planet's surface. A number of eager-looking Saiyans shot off in quick pursuit, hoping to close in on the would-be invaders before they had the chance to set up a foothold. There were about ten men running ground interference, and about twelve in the atmosphere. The rest were left to defense duty, something that he wasn't entirely certain he agreed with. They were better suited making a solid defense out of it, not following the PTO around like dogs with their tails held. Clouds parted as more and more pods broke through the thin line of defense set up by Pattchoy and his men, followed by winding trails of fire that ignited the otherwise peaceful sky. Bardock couldn't remember the last time he'd seen so many pods streaming in to one place, but he sincerely doubted that even the entirety of their force would be able to keep up with all of them. Like Sekihan'd said, they were outnumbered about one hundred to one. "It's time to go," Bardock said. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it to the ground before taking off in a blur of blue and white light. A squad of younger Saiyans followed behind him, their auras glittering like lances of faith in the dark night. Despite the fact that he was a third class soldier, the second class fighter in their Vanguard had been killed in combat just before deploying to Baringer, leaving Bardock in command. Their Vanguard consisted of four remaining fighters: Bardock, Brock, Desi, and Bran. Other than Bardock, Desi was the strongest of their group and his flight speed matched his strength. He followed after Bardock by only a few feet, ready to splinter off in case a bundle of PTO fighters came out of the woodwork. They were still a few miles away from their spot on the perimeter for defense of the main continent, not that it was going to matter. By the time they touched down, the scanners inside of the base were already going fucking insane. Alarms were ringing like klaxons and drowned out all sound, but Desi silenced them with a quick flutter of his fingers over the control panel. His second most valuable asset, other than strength, was technological proficiency. "They'll be here any minute. We probably didn't beat them by much," he said. "How many? I need to know what we're dealing with." "Looks like about twenty fighters. Only two power levels look very impressive, hovering at around a hundred thousand each. Nothing we can't handle." Bardock did the math in his head; he and Desi could fight the two higher power levels without much trouble, but that'd leave the other two members of their Vanguard high and dry to deal with eighteen men. That was nine a piece. Even for Saiyans, that was a tall order, and the battle probably wasn't going to be ending any time soon. The PTO were a methodical bunch, and if their initial tactics proved ineffective, they would adjust them to fit the situation. "I'll handle them both," he ordered dismissively. "The rest of you will deal with the others. Six men for each of you, give or take. Try not to let them spill off. Once you've dispatched your group, assist the one closest to you and try to group up. The more we can divide them the better our odds are." "You can't take them both," Desi said. "Even as strong as you are, I don't think that's an option. They'll wear you down." The alarms kicked up again and Bardock glanced up to the display screen, watching as the tower of power levels approached the facility. They'd obviously zeroed in on the power readings, just as the Saiyans had. For all that the Saiyans said about the PTO, both empires shared an awful lot of technology. They didn't have time to bicker. "Shut the fuck up and do your job," he growled. "If you can get rid of the other eighteen quickly enough, it's not going to matter." Bran and Brock glanced at each other with a mixture of apprehension. Bardock was strong, but expecting him to fight against two people of relatively even strength was a terrifying prospect. He was maybe a few thousand power level above the two of his opponents. On the other hand, each of their opponents were under a quarter of their own power level. The biggest danger they faced was being overwhelmed individually. "Alright, but don't bitch at us if you get a shitty funeral," Bran grumbled. The facility's klaxons continued to blare on in defiance of Bardock's waning patience. Bardock let his men walk out of the facility without another word, his eyes glued to the display screen, stuck on the two glaring numbers that hovered above the rest. [align=center]100,000 97,500 3,600 3,250 3,175 3,100 3,085 3,025 2,950 2,920 2,900 2,865 2,550 2,350 2,225 2,200 1,850 1,750 1,725 1,650[/align] [align=center]2,239 / 4,000[/align] |
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| Future Gohan | Jul 4 2015, 03:09 AM Post #3 |
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The Harbinger
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[align=center] [/align]Bardock waited for the two commanders with the rest of his squad, on the airstrip outside of the base. A cold wind blew across the concrete while an army of white streaks approached in the distance, zeroing in on the strip with little concern for the four warriors that lay in wait for them. Bardock's fists clenched at his sides and his eyes narrowed as his enemies slid into focus; he could see their leaders, bringing up the front of the pack like lead geese. He blinked, twice, before they touched down on the ground a few meters away. Compared to the raggedy bunch of Saiyans, the PTO's forces looked like elite soldiers. Their armor gleaned beneath the light of dying rockets, white and pristine. Bardock's own armor, a sickly green and black thing, was cracked and broken from a prolonged exposure to combat. He'd had the opportunity to refit once he'd arrived on Baringer, but he hadn't taken it. "You are Baddack, yes?" Their leader addressed him by name, but Bardock didn't showcase his surprise. Instead, he remained stoic and silent, refusing to answer the purple-skinned Captain's greeting. His heart was pounding out of his chest. "Word of your exploits on Margot were, I'm sure, not exaggerated. You are the new leader of your... Vanguard, yes?" The man continued to speak, and when Bardock didn't answer him for the second time, his head shot back with a rueful laugh. "There is no need for this hostility, Baddack. You are not one that I fear, and I am sure that you feel the same toward me. Just because you are a Saiyan does not mean we need to fight." Bardock spit on the concrete and turned his eyes to the man's second in command. Like his leader, he had purple skin and fair hair. On another world, they could've been mistaken for primadonnas. Instead, they'd come to Baringer, and so Bardock would offer them no quarter. "My name is Bardock," Bardock finally said. "I don't care who you are. I don't care why you think you've come here. I am going to kill you where you stand, and I'd love to see you stop me." The PTO Captain thought about Bardock's words for a moment, before turning to his second in command. He then turned back to face Bardock with a smug grin wicked across his face. He could see that the Saiyan's fists were clenched at his hips, bared like fangs. He was not particularly skilled with restraint, not that this would come in handy during their battle. Perhaps he could use it to his advantage, but he stowed the thought so that he could give his next order. "Kill his men. Single them out if you can, in squads. I will deal with this Saiyan by myself," he said. "Desiree, feel free to lead the men. I will not be needing your services." "You'll both fight me." Desi and the others squared up behind Bardock, their eyes glaring daggers at the row of soldiers behind the two commanders. They were each going over the fight to come in their minds, trying to fathom how they were going to take on several super powered soldiers while outnumbered. If Bardock could keep the two commanders down, then Desi could deal with his own share quickly enough. If Bardock were to go down early, then the entire thing would be shot. "Bardock, I still think I should be helping you..." Desi nagged, both frustrated that he was being forced to deal with the weaklings and pissed off that they were probably going to die. Before Bardock could reply, a dozen soldiers flew by him and surged toward his men. Wind bombarded his face and the exposed skin on his arms, pulling his hair back in the process. He didn't flinch when all but two men'd gone by him, but when Desiree shot forth to join the fight, Bardock unleashed with a powerful left hook that caught the purple-skinned alien by the nose and sent him flying backward through the air. He went sprawling across the airfield just as his commander shot inward to clash with Bardock. Bardock wove backward between a pair of compact jabs and fired back with a salvo of heavy handed straights that were dodged with relative ease. A set of tracers smashed against the side of his jaw and knocked his feet from the ground, but he caught himself in time to reply in kind. A powerful kick exploded against the commander's hip and sent him stumbling away just in time for Desiree to rejoin the fight. Bardock bashed him into the ground with a double axe handle and turned just in time to block an incoming pulse of ki from the commander, who was now a lot more pissed off than he'd been a few seconds ago. He grunted as the blast collided with his shoulder and was followed up on with three more pulses of light and heat, which detonated against his shoulder pads and filled the air with tiny cracks of flexweave and metal. Bardock loosed off a series of stray bolts to part the cloud of smoke, aiming for the commander. At the same time, Desiree sprang up into his guard and rocked his face with a powerful hook. Spittle flew from between the Saiyan's lips as he reached out to grab a second strike before it could make impact. Desiree grunted and tried to power through, but Bardock circled around him with a single, smooth motion and tossed him through the air toward the base. His body crashed through a distant wall and set off the klaxons again, but Bardock didn't get the chance to pursue him. The PTO commander was already upon him again, fists flying and eyes alight with fury. It was obvious that despite what he'd said earlier, he hadn't been expecting much of a fight. In the distance, Desi and the others continued to battle on. Desi knocked out the second of his six fighters with a powerful punch to the side of the man's helmeted head and quickly moved on to the third, doggedly pursuing his target. Bardock springboarded back over the pavement and hovered over the ground at cruising speed while his two opponents tracked him. He was going to have to commit to one or the other before they got the chance to overwhelm him. His right hand shot back over his shoulder and a sea of blue ki flocked to it almost immediately. The energy congealed into a little bundle of flame that exploded into a wave of concentrated power when Bardock thrust his fist forward. It exploded against the commander's chest and conjured up a cloud of oppressive, black smoke that drowned the man out. Desiree, meanwhile, barreled through the cloud with little regard for his own safety. He punched Bardock twice, once in the chest and once in the face, but the Saiyan regained himself in time to dodge the third strike and fired back with an uppercut of his own that rocked the alien's jaw. A thin line of blood trailed from Bardock's bottom lip to his chin, but it didn't match the spray now free-flowing from Desiree's own lips. Bardock spun in place and was halfway through a murderous kick when the commander reappeared by grabbing his leg. The Saiyan grunted as he was flung half a mile downwind and pursued by a fleet of unfurling ki. It fell upon him like a storm and the blasts exploded in macabre sequence against his makeshift guard, which covered only his chest and his face. Blasted backward by the force of the explosions, Bardock came skidding to a halt several meters further than he'd have liked. The two PTO fighters didn't waste a second in coming at him from opposing sides, battering him with their fists as best they could; they beat him up and down and back and forth, but Bardock refused to relent. He struck back, mouth filled with the taste of copper, by knocking Desiree into the air with a fierce kick and burying his commander in the concrete with a powerful, overhead smash. The commander's teeth ground together as the concrete shattered and gave way to brown dirt, which Bardock pummeled him deeper into with a furious barrage of punches. A boot buried itself in his back and sent him tumbling forward before he could get any serious damage in, but he righted himself and dropped into a defensive stance with only a second's hesitation. Bardock's breathing was haggard now, but the same was true for both of his opponents. Desiree was sporting a number of scratches and his face was covered in his own blood, and the commander, whose name Bardock still didn't know, was the proud owner of a set of broken ass armor. The Saiyan smirked, more to himself than anything else, and shored up his defensive stance. He didn't know how much longer he needed to hold out and didn't want to risk a glance back at the fight still raging in the distance. "So," he said, spitting up a mouthful of blood onto the ground. "Where do we go from here?" "Don't sound so smug, Saiyan," the commander sneered, his teeth smeared with blood. "You're not the first to bring me into my transformed state, and I doubt you will be the last." Bardock's smirk dropped off of his face almost instantly. He was barely even with the guy to begin with. What possible transformation could he possibly have? The corners of his lips twitched downward into a scowl as he struggled to think of the last opponent that'd transformed on him. He couldn't think of many, but he doubted that an example was going to help him deal with the current situation. "Desiree, go deal with his friends. I'll hold the Saiyan here. Do not let any of them escape," barked the commander. "Yessir, Captain Grante." Bardock wanted to stop Desiree as he went blasting off toward Desi and the others, but he didn't have the time nor the presence of mind. He was about to be dealing with a completely different type of animal, one that he wasn't altogether sure he was ready for. [align=center]4,057 / 4,000[/align] |
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