Mospeada Fan Fiction ❯ Lowdown Guam ❯ The Lowdown ( One-Shot )

Capt. Tom Bosworth was having a tiresome day and felt jetlagged. Traveling on an Alpha, from the California base across the Pacific to Guam took him 14 hours in tow. From air, he could see the sun sets over the horizon clearly. He was on a mission to combat the Invid invaders from invading the Western Pacific, which includes Asia itself.

 

Tailing behind was Lt. Scott Bernard, a young lieutenant from the Mars base. Scott has recruited several people to go with him in quest of reaching the Reflex Point, where the Invid based. Leaving his team behind, he decided to join his long-term friend Tom on the given mission.

 

14 hours later, the two Alphas finally reached their destination: US Marines Guam Airbase. Climbing off their planes, Tom pulled off his helmet and run his fingers through his dark hair worn short, caked by sweat. He held the helmet under left arm and walked side by side with Scott. Tom is a bit tanned while Scott is fair skinned.

 

“There is nothing better than a hot shower and a cup of coffee to keep me up,” Tom muttered.

“Yeah, so do I,” Scott agreed with Tom. He also deserved the same `reward' as his buddy after 14 hours of hell flying across the vast Pacific.

 

They were given keys to their rooms and Tom did not waste any of his time. As he unlocked the door, he quickly jumped on his bed for a quick snooze while Scott took the chance to meet the local base commander, Lt. General Mario Robles to discuss the possibility of the Invid attack on the island and parts of Asia.

 

“According to our forecast, the Invid troops are likely to attack this island within a week from now,” said Robles. “It is then followed by the Philippines, Taiwan and Okinawa.”

“And on what reason do you think so?” Scott asked.

“Well, the Invid have discovered a deposit of protoculture on the south of the island,” Robles explained more about the forecast.

“Through our investigation,” he added. “There are even more deposits found in certain provinces of the Philippines, Taiwan and Okinawa.”

 

 

Tom woke up from his nap and the sky has turned dark. The Pago Bay was dim and the sky is moonless. He took a hot shower to freshen up and draped his muscular body dry. Putting on a black tank top and a track bottom, he went downstairs to the cafeteria for dinner.

 

Scott was not in the mood for dinner. He preferred sitting further from other comrades and being alone. He has not change since he arrived. Tom notices him and brought his food tray to the table.

 

“Dinner looks good tonight,” said Tom, trying to lure Scott to take his dinner. “We got this sashimi stuff and this thing called Kelaguen. Hmm, sounds terrific to me.”

“Just eat and shut your mouth,” Scott warned him. “I'm not in the mood.”

“What do you mean not in the mood?” Tom asked, stuffing his mouth with tuna sashimi.

“The Invids are going to attack us a week from now,” said Scott. “But my instinct tells me that something fishy is going on.”

“What do you mean with fishy?” Tom asked, joking by holding a strip of tuna flesh and shaking it.

“My instinct tells me that the Invids could have been here,” Scott told Tom, turning his sight to the group of Marines enjoying their meals.

“That's what your instinct say,” Tom exclaimed. “I mean come on, how could they get here um, say seven days earlier? I don't see any telltale signs.”

“Look at them,” said Tom, pointing to the easy-going Marines on the other side. “They are chilling out. They don't like to stress themselves with all kinds of rumors.”

“It's a forecast,” Scott corrected his buddy.

“Whatever,” Tom replied cynically. “But do we have to burden ourselves with this matter?”

“You know what, I'm going there tomorrow,” Scott decided. “Whether you or they like it or not, I'm going.”

 

The young lieutenant left the table and let his comrade Tom finished his dinner alone. Walking back to his room, Scott recalled the time when he and his team used to battle the Invid pincers, from as far as the South American desert to New York City, where one of the fighters, Yellow Belmont performed.

 

The next morning, Scott left his room fully suited and head for his motorcycle. To his surprise, Tom was rather a bit earlier and waits on his own ride.

 

“Do you think that I would let you venture into the problem alone?” says Tom, lowering his helmet onto his head.

 

The two soldiers raced each other and after a while, Scott took the lead while Tom follows to wherever he turned to. The island has the best highway system ever and empty as well. There were not a single vehicle on the road and this enables them to race each other on a higher speed.

 

Lap after lap, they reached an isolated field in the south of the island, called Verde End. The field is full of steam bursting from the small green-colored craters around it. Taking serious safety measures, they transformed the cyclones into battloid mode. Scott uses his VR-52F Battler which he had stored earlier in his Alpha while Tom decided to try his hands on the new Shadowdancer cyclone, the modified version of Blowsperior, courtesy of the Guam Air Base.

 

Hovering over the crater-filled field, Scott retracted his targeting computer screen and scanned the area while Tom tested his particle beam cannon by discharging several rounds on his surrounding. The cannon, which has unlimited payload is strong enough to pierce through the pincer's heavy shell.

 

Suddenly, the earth began to tremble and the craters crumbled into dusts. Vapor of steam filled the entire field as a volcanic eruption began to take place. Scott and Tom jumped to the side of the field on a safer side and see for themselves. I knew I was right, Scott thought. They are here ahead of what I've been foretold.

 

“Man, you're right,” said Tom, turning to Scott. “I shouldn't have underestimated your instinct.”

 

Rising from ground is a troop of four purplish Invid pincers. Four times of the battloid's seven-foot frame, these alien soldiers are ready to send an impact on the two soldiers. As usual, Scott began the fight with several shots off his Gallant plasma gun. Instead, the shots gave no harm to the monsters. Tom got into the scene and discharged triple round off his cannon. The first and second shot successfully pierced the pincer's shell while the third went off-target.

 

 

 

Without more hesitation, Scott leapt over the top shell of the pincer and aimed his RPG missile launcher on the forearm plate towards the eye of one of the pincers. Two grenades flew out and blew the pincer's eye thus splitting the monster into two.

 

On the other hand, Tom utilized the most out of the cannon mounted on his right chest cavity. Unfortunately, one of the three remaining pincers confronted him and dispersed hefty plasma shot on him. The blast pierced his chest on the left side and heaved him aside.

 

Tom pushed himself up and shook his helmeted head. Clenching both fists, he flaunted out his smoking cratered chest and stood mightily. Beads of sweat gathered around his forehead down to his nose. He breathed heavily and his eyes narrowed.

 

“I won't let this game ends easily and I'll never let you escape from me,” he said in total anger.

 

Scott discharged another successful round of the RPG missiles on the third monster. This time, he aimed on the lower belly of the monster, where most of the power supplies located. Later he joined Tom and combined powers. Tom primed his particle beam cannon while Scott with his RPG missile launchers, both targeted at the two last pincers.

 

“Ready to rumble, Scott?” Tom asked.

“I'm always ready,” Scott replied.

 

The combined blasts were released and the monsters blew up into pieces. Scott was so excited and glad that they have saved the world from the alien invaders. As he turned to congratulate his sidekick, Tom collapsed. His chest cannon burned and fuming while his protoculture supply has been drained. He had consumed too much fuel and power, which caused his system, jammed and broke.

 

“Hang on, Tom. I'll get you fix as soon as we get back to the base,” Scott assured him.

 

The battloid placed Tom's left arm over his shoulder and flew back to the US Air Base in flash to get his comrade's cyclone repaired.

Tom felt his eyes blurry as he tried to open them. He looked around and saw a place so foreign. He run his hand over his head and felt a bandage wrapped around it. Where am I? He thought. Am I dead?

 

“Glad you're still alive,” said Scott.

“Yeah, me too,” Tom agreed with him. “Where am I anyway?”

“In the infirmary,” Scott informed him.

“What happened to me?” Tom asked.

“Your cyclone broke down and you collapsed,” Scott explained about his situation.

“How's my cyclone doing?” Tom asked again.

“Heavily damaged,” Scott answered. “Your cannon is malfunction and so does the engine. They both burned out.”

“Just like the owner himself,” Tom joked.

 

On the same evening, Tom was discharged from the infirmary and went back to his room for further rest. He needs at least three days to recover from the trauma he had while battling the Invid pincers.

 

Two months without a cyclone had turned Tom crazy. At last, the third month brought joyful news for him: his cyclone has been fixed and it looks brand new. Tom took his motorcycle for a ride across the island and was contented with the newly repaired cyclone. As for Scott, his mission on the island was over. He returned back to the US mainland with his Alpha and the Battler folded into storage.