Just thought I did write about this idea I had when I wondered just how bad melee combat would be in the MLverse, if say people with the abilities and mind set of the Angry Marines from WH40K were to be piloting... And here we go...

US Eishi: Attention unidentified craft, enable your real time translator and speak in English, the international language. :mad:


Japanese Eishi: 何ですか??Nanidesuka?? Enable your real time translator and speak in an recognizable language!


All Eishi: TURN ON YOUR TRANSLATOR!!! :frustrated:


--Conversation recorded just before a squad of Yellow painted F-4s charged on foot into a charging swarm of Destroyer Class with no other weapon other than blunt objects and torn-off chunks of Destroyer class shells and Grappler arms.

Several Destroyer class could be seen flying through the air after the initial impact, and soon a trail of broken and confused Destroyers were left on a straight path point towards the cluster of laser class. A gang of 20 Grapplers came, rushing toward the charging flight of F-4s. Without any long ranged weapons, any experienced Eishi would have opted to evade and go around rather than be surrounded by a swarm of Grapplers, but not those yellow Phantoms.

They charged forward together as a wall of steel, never deviating from the shortest path, never slowing down, almost never firing their thrusters except to reach an enemy faster than the TSF beside them.

The first Phantom to reach the Grapplers didn't stop to block the oncoming swing. Instead, it accelerated and boosted directly into its embrace. Whist inside the arc of the Grappler’s swing with its claw of unearthly hardness, the Phantom stepped directly onto the torso,  reached out with both hands to catch hold of the head... and pushed off, ripping off the head with the momentum. A fierce bellow rang out from the cockpit, audible despite the lack of external speakers, and the words “...SHIT DOWN YOUR NECK!!!” could be heard, even as the Phantom threw the head down, giving it a swift kick on the run, sending it soaring high into the air. Behind it, the headless body of the hapless BETA continued to run on into another of its kind, causing both to collapse in an entanglement.

Behind the first, the next Phantom merely lifted its arm, cocking it, and gave the next Grappler a Clothesline, holding its arm out straight into the neck of the BETA while pounding forward, causing the alien beast to pivot in mid air with its head as the fulcrum. Its broken body crashed down, unheeded by the Phantom, who was already half a kilometer away and speeding up. Another held a torn off Grappler Claw in its manipulators, and was ramming it into oncoming Grapplers as shouts of “STOP HITTING YOURSELF!!, STOP HITTING YOURSELF!!” resounded from its metal body.

Onwards the Yellow Phantoms charged through the gang of Grapplers, some using melee weapons or blunt objects, while others used their bare fists, to smash, crush or pulverize anything that stood in their way. Any Tank class they encountered would be swiftly stepped on or booted like a football. A few leaping ones were gleefully swatted out of the sky by their assumed targets, who happened to be holding pieces of reinforcing metal bars or wooden poles that were now dripping red. Several of the Tanks collided with each other and burst in mid-air, temporary shading the sun and showering the flight with blood. A voice was heard to say “AND SO WE FIGHT IN THE SHADE!... HUR HUR HUR.”

In that manner, the flight of yellow Phantoms soon covered the distance to the group of laser class, which had been intercepting arty fire support for the main strike force, causing delays on all fronts. As the flight drew near, they could see clusters of man-sized Luxs protected by a sizable mix of BETAs, merrily firing their lasers into the sky. At the sight of the hated long ranged species of the alien foe, the Angry Eishi’s all roared with disgust, venting their rage and revulsion: ” THERE THE COCKSUCKERS ARE!! HIDING SAFELY BEHIND OTHERS, SHOOTING FROM AFAR LIKE FUCKING COWARDS!! LETS SHOW THOSE XENOS ABORTIONS WHAT A REAL FIGHT IS!! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-!!!” With a resounding war-cry delivered without the use of the intercoms or external speakers, the Captain led the flight directly into the defending BETA.

The Phantom was shaking with so much rage that it snapped the claw of a grappler held in its hands into two, and throwing one piece into the bottom round protrusions of a Destroyer who had temporary reared up in preparation to charge, he jumped onto the back of another, forcing the wedge into the boundary of the shell and its flesh. With a jerk, the Phantom ripped the head off the Destroyer, which was running in a circle in pain and confusion. Crushing the brains that was exposed, the Phantom ripped the shell off the other Destroyer that was crippled. With a Destroyer’s shell in each manipulator, it smashed the two together until they were embedded up to the elbows of the TSF, weaponizing the BETA’s 15 Mohs’ hard shells. With a roar, it charged into the fray behind his brothers who had not stopped for him and had gone past him in front.

Only the reinforced joints and armor of the F-4, together with the hydraulic pistons of antiqued design, could have survived the pounding that these Eishins put them to. By utilizing the unique strengths of the frame, and protecting or upgrading the various weak areas such as the torso and joints, the modules of these Phantoms were able to exert and survive many times the load and combat stress placed on them than an equivalent modern TSF. However, the Eishin’s never placed much thought about such things, understanding the values of their units instinctively through their bodies. Their minds were too full of anger to want to consider such complexities, relying instead on the mechanics who outfit them, secure in the knowledge that if the machines failed in their duty, they would rip their way out of the downed units, make their way back, and beat the ever-living shit out of them, hard enough to make them wish the BETA would eat them.

As the flight reached the final layer of BETA, they moved aside, creating a path for the Laser class to aim down. Instead of evading and circling around to hide among the BETA while shooting the Lux from range, the Phantoms only changed their formation, forming two lines behind a wedge of 3 TSFs. Of these three, one, the captain, had weaponized BETA’s shells on both arms, while another had the head of a Destroyer class, freshly obtained and still dripping blood, as a shield, and the last one - “HEY FUCKTARD!! WHO SAID YOU COULD BRING A GIRLFRIEND ALONG!? IF YOU SLOW US DOWN I’M GOING TO KICK YOU IN THE ASS SO HARD THEY CAN LAND A HIVE IN IT!!!” - was carrying a grappler, with its claws tied around its neck, its stubby legs wiggling in front. It had been picked up up by the forepart of the body and the neck, and the Phantom was carrying it bodily into battle as a living shield with its back bent backwards.

As the column advanced, the Lux’s started shooting, but only at the two holding on to the dead shells. None of the beams of energy were aimed at the TSF holding the living shield. As the beams hit the shells, red dollops of melted stuff dripped out, but being tougher than the best materials humanity could create, held out for long enough for the 5 seconds that the three took to reach the clusters. Just as they arrived, the Unit holding only one shell finally had a burn through, and the laser cut pass to hit the the arm supporting the shell, burning it off at the elbow, as the Eishin instinctively twisted to prevent a fatal hit on the torso cockpit block.

The Captain, now with two pitted and smaller smouldering lumps of shell, joyfully stomped into the Lux cluster, crushing tens of them at once underfoot as he danced around. The one holding the live grappler threw it onto a particularly dense cluster, crushing another 30 beneath its bulk. The one who had its arm burnt off was slightly late, and jumped into the middle of a cluster, igniting its booster engines while spinning, blasting the surrounding Lux into burnt carbon. The rest of the flight of Phantoms followed closely behind him, and soon all were smashing, crushing, stomping and even punching the ground, even as they endlessly screamed their rage.

Finally, the Captain stopped his rampage. He looked across the blood stain ground, confirming the total annihilation of all the laser class and saw that all was good. Even the reminding other BETA that were surrounding them had been attacked, and he could see several small teams of Phantoms chasing the stragglers in an expanding circle. He heard a buzz in his comms, which indicated that command was trying to contact him, since they had noticed the ceasing of laser interception of their fire. Turning it on, he heard the UN commander start to say a word of thanks, but cut him off with “WE CLEANED UP THE SHITS FOR YOU, ARSEHOLE, SIR!! NOW YOU CAN GO PLAY WITH YOURSELF AND FIRE YOUR PUSSY LOADS FROM YOUR METAL BOXES!! CAPTAIN EATER, FUCKING OUT!!!”

Having finished reporting the situation to the U.N. Commander of the southeastern pacific 12th Army 4th Division, Captain Osh It, Eater, of the 3rd TSF Special Company, 1st Flight, the “Angry Eishis”, went and regrouped his erroneous flight of 11 units, by shouting and banging their cockpits to shock the pilots out of their killing rage.

His flight were made from unique specimens of humankind, with the intention to gather individuals who had such intense hatred and anger against anything and everything, but most of all against the BETA, to the point that their mindset were always only ever focused on one question: How to Kill Them All!. Such all-consuming hatred they have against those “Pieces of xenos SHITS! that aren't even human”, that they do not have any space for random thoughts, and all other functions operate on instinct, leaving them perfect concentration, the reaction time of a snake, and the inability to know fear. Their burning desire drives them with the need to see blood up close and personal, in order to confirm that the target is DEAD DEAD DEAD!, and so they disdain the use of ranged weapons, considering anyone who uses them pussies, or worst.

Before, when these men were in their original units, they would have caused great disruptions in their command, blindly attacking the enemy without thought for their comrades in the manner of the ancient berserkers, but coming back more likely than not, and getting into fights over the smallest things while on base. Not that they were undisciplined, as they were able to obey orders and follow the regimental requirements, but when given stupid orders by others, they are more likely to blow up and inflict punishment upon the offender. When the call to transfer these men came from the U.N. as an experiment to form squads of like minded soldiers, they would have been transferred out with great relief from their commanders.

Thus, anyone who would approach to communicate with these angry men had better not be a fool and know their place, lest they be kicked out of their barracks, with their underwear pulled over their heads! For these men are the Angry Eishis, and they are ALWAYS ANGRY, ALL THE TIME!

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