So it begins

The first few days of Makita's return to Bahamut had been quiet. Well, quiet for Bahamut. There were skirmishes, but neither side made any serious gains. It was quickly becoming apparent that the entire war had reached a point of bloody stalemate. Bodies and blood were fed into the city, and nothing changed except for the death toll.

Makita did what she could. She scouted ambush points and kept track of Red combat teams. She managed to turn a couple of skirmishes with a well-timed strike from behind the Red lines. She stole what time she could to spend with her father and with Proto, though they were as busy as she was.

Today when her comlink chirps softly she's in the old northern financial district. The area had been quiet over the past few weeks, and the Elders suspected the Reds were up to something. Makita takes one final look out over the city from her perch at the top of one of the tallest buildings in the area before looking to see who was calling.

"Papa?" she frowns as she flicks it open and her father's face floats in front of her.

"Makita," he smiles tiredly, "We're in the old eastern market. Can you give me an idea of what's inbound."

She spins and squints across the distance, her frown deepening, "Okay, Papa. I've got a visual on your location. I count two capital ships; furnaces with escorts. They're almost on top of you." Her eyes scan across the terrain on the other side of the city, "You should fall back to the south before they manage to pin you down."

Her father grimaces, "Negative. There's nowhere to fall back to, Makita. They've scattered deployments all over the area. Unknown numbers of heavy infantry on the ground with support from ground attack aircraft." Makita's eyes widen. That makes this the biggest offensive the Reds of put together in months. "We've frustrated them," he continues, "And they're looking for strength of numbers to prevail today. And Makita... we've got reports of a Hydra-class Krawl on the ground, possibly in your area."

Makita swallows, "Hydra-class! Are you sure?"

He nods, "It rolled right over the northern heavy works plant. Reports are scattered, but apparently no one heard the thing coming until it was right on top of them. We suspect the Reds must be working with some new stealth protokol. We're not sure because we lost the signal... there were two hundred stationed there."

His face hardens and he leans forward slightly, "Enough of that. Listen to me and listen well. This is important."

"Sir," Makita nods and swallows. "Yes sir."

"The mission I'm giving you was intended for me, but I'm not going to make it." A sudden pain grips her chest. "Is that clear?" Makita doesn't hear him, Not Papa! Please not Papa. His voice is harsh, "I said: is that clear?"

Makita blinks rapidly and takes a deep steadying breath. "Clear, sir."

"You have to reach my position. Immediately. How far away are you now?"

This is her city, and it takes Makita only a few seconds to calculate approaches. "I'm not far from railcar station 82. If I catch the next train out I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Good," her father sounds relieved. "Then move out. Oh, and Makita? One more thing. The Reds are serious about this one. You'll need to remember everything Proto and I have taught you if you're to survive. We can hold this position for maybe another hour. Do you believe you can make it?"

Squaring her shoulders Makita nods, "Even if I have to run, sir."

"Then run, Makita. Run!"

0:59:59
Makita runs.

Mostly cribbed from Red Star Annual #1 "Run Makita Run" by Christian Gossett.

Run, Makita. Run.

0:56:18
It takes precious minutes to half-scramble, half-fall from her vantage point to the street. And then Makita is running. Her legs flash in long strides and her new boots crunch through the snow. The world shrinks around her. Details fade out until nothing exists but the repetitive rhythm of her her steps and the harsh rasping of her breath in the freezing air. And her father's words echoing in her mind: "nowhere to fall back to" "not going to make it" "mission I'm giving you" "run, Makita. Run!"

She runs.

0:49:48
Becoming too focused in a warzone is a dangerous thing. As Makita pounds through the ruined city of Bahamut all her attention is on going just a little bit faster. By the time she realizes that she's out in the open it's too late. A Red ground support fighter screams out of the sky and there's nowhere to take cover.

Makita's face pulls back into a helpless grimace. She knows she's dead. She had promised Goldy she wouldn't get herself stupidly killed, and now she has. She'd promised Papa that she'd make it in an hour, and now she's not going to. She'd promised Proto-- "Makita!" A voice cuts through thoughts, "Get down!"

She doesn't think, she just throws herself to the ground. An anti-air rocket flashes over her head, she can feel the heat of its exhaust on the back of her neck and then the shockwave as it slams into the Red fighter. Noise and shrapnel rain down as she keeps her face buried in the snow.

When she glances up there's a chuckle from behind her. "Hey, pretty girl," Proto smiles as she turns around, "Have you forgotten everything I taught you already?"

Makita's answer is to leap lightly up onto the fast attack vehicle he arrived in and grab his shirt. "C'mere" she says breathlessly as she pulls him close enough to kiss. It's desperate and frightened and she doesn't want to let him go, but she has a mission.

She pulls back slightly, "Proto! Papa's in trouble. Can you take me to station 82? I can make it from there."

Proto's smile makes it hard not to kiss him again, "Of course! 82's only two clicks from here."

As she took a breath to thank him properly another voice interrupted. "Hey, hey, that forget!" came a thickly accented voice from inside the vehicle as the driver stuck his head out. "We have it more duties, Proto. Is more enemy ships all over. All over the city! We have to go at the speed of light!" Makita blinks as she tries to work through the accent and the terrible grammar, "I mean, yeah, Maki's cute, but you want we tell commander Gurka we are making to play taxi?" The driver shakes his head in answer to his own question, "So love scene is about ten second left, okay?"

With a sigh Proto nods, "All right, all right, Turko. I hear you."

"You do?" Makita asks in disbelief.

"Yeah, they put me with Turko because I can understand him. And he's right. I'm screwed, sorry."

Makita nods, "I can run." She leans forward for another hungry kiss before pushing back to leap from the vehicle.

Proto calls after her as she lands on the ground, "Oh, Makita. I built that ramp for you." As she turns to take off again he yells over the sound of the rumbling engine, "And be more careful out there, will you?"

0:44:17
Makita runs.

Mostly cribbed from Red Star Annual #1 "Run Makita Run" by Christian Gossett.

Frozen killing fields

0:42:04
Makita doesn't slow her headlong pace as she reached the little plaza where Proto has indeed built the ramp. The plaza where they talked and kissed and kept each other warm what seems like ages ago.

She doesn't slow even when she glimpses the distinctive blue glow of a transport gate protokol. It means troops on the ground, and she can't afford to slow down. Still sprinting, her hands fly up to open her coat, giving her easy access to her extra magazines. Then she smoothly draws a pistol in each hand.

Adrenaline pours through her system and everything seems sharper somehow. Her father's words echo in her head.

Whenever possible, a warrior chooses the terrain in which to engage the enemy. Makita moves up against the wall surrounding the plaza. The Red squad is still arriving inside. They mistake the wall as terrain that protects them. She will show them otherwise.

By doing this, he has given himself the advantage of surprise, and therefore taken the initiative. The wall is in sorry shape, collapsing in multiple places, and missing bricks provide plenty of places to see what was on the other side. Makita does a quick count: a full squad with mortar support. Twenty targets.

Even though you may face superior forces, if you have laid a trap for them in this way you have made their numbers count for nothing. Running over her plan in her head, Makita nods and surges forward toward the next major break in the wall. All that is left to do is to attack.

In the fury of engagement, your actions must control your opponents' reactions. Makita twists slightly without changing her angle of movement. It's an awkward maneuver if you haven't done it thousands of times before. Makita's grin is feral as she opens fire and empties both pistols in the space of the few seconds it takes for her to pass the gap and find herself behind stone again.

Form patterns for the enemy to expect. Men scream as bullets tear into them. They thought themselves secure, and now the mortar team is a mangled collection of wounded and dying men. Makita lifts her pistols and a pair of still-warm magazines slide from them and into her loose-collared shirt. With practiced movements she draws fresh ones and reloads without slowing down. Just in time for the next gap.

Form patterns for the enemy to expect. The Reds are still reeling, not entirely sure where the attack is coming from. They scramble randomly and Makita's next two clips tear into them again. Someone must be paying attention. As she slides out of sight again Makita hears a voice yell, "Cut him off! Fire into the next gap! We'll pin him down and move in!"

Form patterns for the enemy to expect... When they react, change the pattern. Your preparation of the terrain should have given you the opportunity to accomplish this The ramp is there, just as Proto had said. Like all of the things he's built for her, it's an impressive structure. Simple and sturdy and constructed out of whatever odds and ends he could dig up, Makita sprints up it.

Makita almost misses a step when she spots the crude heart Proto scratched into the wall by the ramp (she knew it had to be Proto because he had also crudely scratched "Proto + Makita" inside it). Time seems to slow and all sound fades out except for the intense murmur of her father's remembered voice. The laughter of our loved ones is a fragile gift, my child. Happiness is not guaranteed in this world. When you have it, protect it. Let now one take it from you. For this world will stand against you. Any dream you try and create, there will be those that try to steal it from you.

And when they do... A hail of bullets from the Reds in the plaza fill the gap ahead of her with a wall of lead. But the ramp is perfectly positioned and as Makita reaches the top of it she throws herself up and forward, twisting in the air.

Fight them to the death. She clears the Red's fire by a few feet and pours her own back in their faces. In their hurry to bring their weapons to bear, the men in the plaza haven't had time to find cover. Another half dozen go down under Makita's fire before the arc of her leap takes her back behind the wall. She rolls lightly to her feet and sprints forward.

The Reds are too disorganized to pursue her, and she's in too much of a hurry to circle around and finish them. She has somewhere to be.

0:41:01
Makita runs.

Mostly cribbed from Red Star Annual #1 "Run Makita Run" by Christian Gossett.