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Squishypink
Supernova
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2013
Totally.
Fuckin'.
RAD.
The whole cockpit shook as the massive feet of the ATAT crunched down into the thick snow on the surface of Hoth, bouncing Captain Nancy Green in her seat like a small child in a papoose. Of course this particular baby was wearing a ridiculously bulky black helmet and had her hands all up in the navigational gubbins of a three kiloton siege engine. She shoved the yoke forward and Big Betty took her first ponderous stomp, because frankly you couldn't call her stride anything remotely graceful, toward the distant Rebel base. The smaller, nimbler ATST units swarmed ahead, weaving in and out between the Betty's legs like a hungry wolfpack.
Nancy wasn't a big person. In fact by all accounts she was downright scrawny. But at the helm of Betty, some fifty feet up in the air, she was just too high up to hear the haters. The other two giant metal camels in her squadron fell in beside her, the Arx Imperia and the Glory of Coruscant. She knew their captains well enough, and they were both stuffy as hell. Captain Gloria of the Glory, in particular, was probably the most frigid bitch in the quadrant. Probably felt right at home on Hoth.
The comm chimed and orders spewed in over her helmet's display; Betty on point. Nancy switched off the safeties. Which safeties? Every fuckin' one of them. Suddenly Betty lurched forward at full combat speed, kicking over some especially ballsy Rebel scum on a tauntaun. Who fucking rides fluffy kangaroos into a war zone anyway? Reaching above her to flick a big friendly red switch (with a tag hanging from it that read: Nancy, don't touch!) Nancy activated the PA system and blasted the Rebels with power ballads from her homeworld. Mostly tracks by the Nerf Herders with selected compositions by the Wookiee Cunts, classy stuff.
"Gunner!" she shouted, too focused on keeping the Betty on course to spare a glance to her cabin-mate. "Can you give me a reason, any little reason, why you aren't lighting these bitches up?"
Fuckin'.
RAD.
The whole cockpit shook as the massive feet of the ATAT crunched down into the thick snow on the surface of Hoth, bouncing Captain Nancy Green in her seat like a small child in a papoose. Of course this particular baby was wearing a ridiculously bulky black helmet and had her hands all up in the navigational gubbins of a three kiloton siege engine. She shoved the yoke forward and Big Betty took her first ponderous stomp, because frankly you couldn't call her stride anything remotely graceful, toward the distant Rebel base. The smaller, nimbler ATST units swarmed ahead, weaving in and out between the Betty's legs like a hungry wolfpack.
Nancy wasn't a big person. In fact by all accounts she was downright scrawny. But at the helm of Betty, some fifty feet up in the air, she was just too high up to hear the haters. The other two giant metal camels in her squadron fell in beside her, the Arx Imperia and the Glory of Coruscant. She knew their captains well enough, and they were both stuffy as hell. Captain Gloria of the Glory, in particular, was probably the most frigid bitch in the quadrant. Probably felt right at home on Hoth.
The comm chimed and orders spewed in over her helmet's display; Betty on point. Nancy switched off the safeties. Which safeties? Every fuckin' one of them. Suddenly Betty lurched forward at full combat speed, kicking over some especially ballsy Rebel scum on a tauntaun. Who fucking rides fluffy kangaroos into a war zone anyway? Reaching above her to flick a big friendly red switch (with a tag hanging from it that read: Nancy, don't touch!) Nancy activated the PA system and blasted the Rebels with power ballads from her homeworld. Mostly tracks by the Nerf Herders with selected compositions by the Wookiee Cunts, classy stuff.
"Gunner!" she shouted, too focused on keeping the Betty on course to spare a glance to her cabin-mate. "Can you give me a reason, any little reason, why you aren't lighting these bitches up?"
