Wyoming carefully watched as the unarmored Alien Elite made its way to the Banshee class aircraft. He was working on a long term project, and part of it here was ensuring that no one got that vehicle. However, if he destroyed it before the Elite reached it, it could conceivably repair the vehicle...or instruct the Sim Troopers how to. His contract with Omega was still rather vague, but the details he received from his 'partner' were frankly absurd. Admittedly, the Sim Trooper identified as Tucker proved to be effective - for a Sim Trooper - against the zealot troops guarding the facility...but they were zealots. A 'dippy-bird' drink topper with a button operated gun could take them out.
So he watched and waited, his rocket launcher braced on his shoulder as he stayed partially concealed. He watched calmly as the Banshee lifted into the air, seeing 'Tucker' waving happily at the Elite as it made a few passes, plainly showing off. Seeing its guard down, Wyoming fired.
"Ferdy, watch out!"
That scream caught Wyoming off guard. He saw it came from 'Tucker', and that the Sim Trooper had...leapt 30 feet in the air to catch the rocket before it could hit the Banshee? "How did he jump so high?" he murmured in surprise.
"Wyoming!" Texas voice snarled out as she dropped her cloak and took aim.
"What a surprise seeing you here, Texas!" Wyoming called back jovially while keeping his eyes on the Banshee, the rocket, and the Sim Trooper. "You are doing well, I ho-ly!" The change in his words was caused as the Elite twisted the Banshee into a side-on flight while Tucker swung out on the rocket, kicked off the bottom of the banshee, and turned it back towards Wyoming. "Well aren't you full of surpri-" Wyoming stopped and ducked as Tucker - hanging from the rocket by one hand - hauled out his assault rifle and opened fire with a spray to make Wyoming take cover. "-ses!" he finished jovially once he was certain none of the bullets would hit him.
"Surprise this, you Blurgath Shisno!"Tucker snapped as he released the rocket and slammed feet first into Wyoming's faceplate, knocking him back as much from surprise at his choice of insult as from the impact. After all, the Elite language was quite colorful and with deep meaning, and 'Blurgath' as a word - when used as an adjective - didn't translate into English in the singular, as it was a shorthand for a much direr insult. Roughly translated, it stated, 'I will enjoy hanging you off a cliff from a thorn bush by your own entrails to see if you bounce!' Quite colorful.
Wyoming straightened himself as Tucker leapt to his feet. "That's your only free hit, boy," he stated insultingly. "Enjoy it." He knew each of the Trooper's bios, and was deliberately trying to push his foe's buttons to make him reckless.
As expected, Tucker charged in recklessly. Much to Wyoming's surprise, he was better than anticipated. He wasn't quite at the level of a Freelancer, but Wyoming actually had to push himself to block and evade every incoming attack while landing his own blows, rather than completely dominating the Sim Trooper. "Well now, someone's been eating his Wheaties-GYAH!" His taunt was cut off as sharp pain shot through his left shoulder after ducking under the last punch. "What in-" Turning, he saw a rather large knife driven through the armor and into the flesh, blood leaking out. "How? You don't have any knives on you!"
Tucker chuckled as he flicked several knives between his fingers, only for them to seem to vanish. "Last picnic we had a talent show," he gloated. "I showed off sleight-of-hand, and the hand is quicker than the eye!" He lunged in again.
Wyoming backed away carefully, keeping his eyes on Tucker's hands to ensure another strike like that wasn't missed...only to grunt in agony as he felt a sharp pain in his crotch.
Tucker pulled back his knee strike, the knife he'd hidden under that armor plate specifically for the strike left behind. "So you should have been watching my legs."
"Indeed I...should have..." Wyoming grunted out as he braced himself. "I'll remember that...for next time."
Tucker brought out the Alien Key sword. "There won't be a next time," he growled out. "You tried to kill-"
"-Ferdy-what?" Tucker began as he came in on the rocket, so caught off guard he held on just a little too long.
Spinning under the too high strike, Wyoming fired off a specially prepared round. The load of paint slammed into the back of Tucker's helmet, and his armor locked up as the rocket slammed into the side of the cliff, the explosion blasting him back. "And that's that," Wyoming began as he turned face first into Texas' sniper round-
-as he ducked to the side into Texas' sniper round-
-as he ducked to the other side into Texas' sniper round-
-as he ducked behind cover straight into Texas' armor-piercing sniper round just as it finished punching through several feet of solid rock-
-as he just barely deflected Texas' sniper round with his own weapon by holding it at an oblique angle, losing feeling in his hand in the process. "What the hell happened to my trump card?" he demanded angrily as he turned and ran, limping along. Phantom pain from the injuries Tucker had inflicted - and the several shots to the head - remained, and made running somewhat difficult and painful.
Texas cursed under her breath as she lowered her sniper rifle. While she hadn't expected it when her sensors gave her the update 'Save State abuse detected, externalizing quantum sensors', once she understood what it meant she took advantage of it. Wyoming's unique tech let him hop slightly backwards along his own timeline to evade a negative outcome, and she knew enough about how he thought to know where he'd dodge to. Her own reaction time when she disabled her body's limiters was fast enough to take advantage of every shift to hit him with the right shot...but he'd managed to get out of range this time. The AP rounds wouldn't go through that much solid rock to hit him.
Ferdy quickly brought the Banshee in for a landing, Tucker cradled in her arms. He was locked up, and she was whimpering and 'Blargh'ing over him in frenetic worry. "It's just training paint-" Texas began as she approached, only to let out a startled oath from the update her scanners gave her.
Virus detected in paint load. Analyzing...
Alert: Virus has disabled suit's life support system.
Alert: Link to Key has quantumly externalized Tucker's perceptions. Subject has been running on oxygen deficit linearly since first paralysis through four loaded states. Remaining oxygen unknown.
"He's running out of air!" Texas called out worriedly. "We need to get his suit's life support reactivated somehow!" Her thoughts raced as she tried to come up with a possible solution. "Caboose! Do something!"
"What should I do, Mom?" Caboose asked urgently.
"Anything!"
Caboose promptly kicked Tucker in the nuts. Tucker convulsed as he clutched at his crotch. "Dammit Caboose, why?!" he demanded angrily.
"I think 'how' is the more important question..." Texas murmured in confusion as her sensors indicated the virus had been neutralized, as had the lock up.
"Tucker always bends over and makes funny noises when he gets hit in the nuts, just like Picture-Man!" Caboose declared happily. "We needed his suit to move so he could breathe, so I kicked him in the nuts!"
"Picture...Man?" Texas inquired curiously.
"You know, Gif!"
"Oh...Grif..." Texas shook her head in frustration. Maud had said Caboose's magic manifested oddly...
Tucker had plainly put the situation from his mind, focusing on reassuring Ferdy that he was okay, and reassuring himself that she was.
Flowers watched calmly from his place, still concealed. "Hmm...it seems the Narrative has shifted," he observed calmly. "Things should be...interesting..."