Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20151212055542/@comment-26130256-20160702052907

There are lots of people on Remnant who are good at fighting, but not quite as many who understand fighting from a theoretical standpoint. Trigo Cardamom was one of those latter individuals. Not only did he serve as the de facto combat instructor for the crime family, but he had written several articles, under a pen name, for the Vacuan Journal of Combat Science, one of them even being considered for the Nobel Prize in Violence.

With all that understanding, Trigo was painfully aware of the benefits and limitations of his fighting style, and the biggest limit was his effectiveness against heavy armor. Fortunately, in his daily career, very few gangs in Vacuo had tanks or APCs, meaning this weakness really didn't come up all that often.

However, Vale was not Vacuo, the BoB was not an ordinary gang, and today was most definitely not a normal day. The machine advancing on him was the size of a very small house, and sported the largest minigun Trigo had ever seen, which was saying a lot. Plus a set of rockets, what looked like some very good armor, and... was that reactive armor this thing had? I am nowhere near drunk enough for this, the enforcer thought as he rolled out of the path of fire.

''Giant minigun. Horrifying damage at.. any range, but it's obviously rather slow, and turning speed doesn't look too good either. Only my slugs or HE rounds have any chance of being useful, and that's a slim chance indeed. At least my buckshot should be enough to start blowing off that reactive plating.''

Trigo leapt again, unloading all 4 shells at the robot and using the momentum to send him behind cover again. He heard several tell-tale explosions that said the Viking was short some reactive plating, and reloaded to try hitting it from behind.

Before he could attack, he heard Habakkuk Squad charging in and hitting the mechanical monstrosity with what sounded like some kind of electric weapon. Doubtlessly trying to short out the electronics. No need to open the can if you can cook the meat indirectly. Switching his ammunition, Trigo jumped towards the Viking's giant minigun and hammerred it as hard as he could into the ground. The damage he caused was trivial, but he forced it low enough to freeze it to the ground with Ice Dust rounds. It probably wouldn't last, but at least he could buy Flagg's people some time.

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After a few seconds staring, Sienna turned back to the director. Clearly, Flagg wasn't going to let this go without some serious overkill. Mess with one, mess with all. No wonder Don Ocrhe and Zephrion got along so well.

"I don't think the price table I memorized goes quite that high," he admitted, writing a scroll code onto his sheet of paper and showing it to Shiller. "Misty De La Croix is the family's big shipping expert, so you're better off speaking to her directly.  Speakerphone, if you wish me to help negotiate.  I would guess her price will be in the mid seven figures, if you want rush delivery."