17 Jun 2011

Throwing Fire at the Faction Garbage Wagon

Jaguar, Rifter, Dramiel, Dramiel, Rifter kicked into warp and set off at full-throttle for the out-gate. The chase was on, the Rebels had been waiting patiently for their prey to make a run for it. Their scout had been watching the Dominix undocking, warping around and generally getting spooked as the Rebels were getting into position ready for the green light and the pounce. The signal for the launch of death and destruction.

This was it, the prey had bolted and the hungry Rebels were not going to sleep that night until they had feasted on it. The target was a member of a local salvaging company, who for no doubt some reason or another had probably pissed off a Rebel gang member somewhere down the line. Even so, this guy was flashing like a beacon to the Rebels just by the fact he was in a ...... wait a minute, a Dominix. We had just landed scrams and webs when one of the Rebels yelled over comms.

"It's a *#!!*#* Navy Issue, what the!?"

The scout hadn't noticed, perhaps didn't think it possible that a pilot barely two months out of capsuleer training could command this hulking faction battleship. There wasn't any time to ponder the ins and outs and all the details, right now five demonic frigate pilots were blasting this beast of a hull out of the sky right on a busy stargate. The first thought was bumps and webs, but soon it was clear that the Domi had sent out his drones and had aggressed, the formation of frigates turning for a tight orbit of the stricken vessel, pounding away and evading drone fire in the process.

Rockets and bullets filled the area, passers-by jumped out and generally got out of the way of the menace that was disrupting their routine, it's not every day you pass a Dominix Navy Issue on fire and leaking gases and throwing burning crew members into the emptiness of high-security space. And then, with a flash the Dominix succumbed to its killers. A once magnificent ship now a smouldering mass of twisted metal and floating dead.

The Rebels had their kill, the amusement at the killmail etched on their faces as they raced away from the scene before the press and other security forces arrived on the scene, into the darkness they sped, looking for their next victim.