Fighting By The Seat Of...

She turned the control sticks, and the MEKA turned with slow, lumbering steps, the walls shaking from the impacts. Meanwhile she was trying to ignore the bizarre and slightly disturbing feel of the MEKA's cold metal and learher interior, though with each micro-movement she felt her legs, abdomen and chest jostled slightly into one bit of it or another, feeling disturbingly like a hundred icy kisses on every inch of her mostly exposed body. Hana halted the MEKA's turn and settled into a firing stance, the machine's guns firing with a series of low, juddering cracks. She could feel the effect all this was having on her boobies — she was unable to look down, but the endless quivering and jiggling was undeniable — and she hoped to god the men out there couldn't see too much of her from where they were.

At the same time, the man who had been behind her when she'd dove into her MEKA was still holding her blazer, and seemed slightly dumbfounded at what he'd just seen. The girl had been significantly less dressed than he'd expected, and he'd gotten quite the eyeful as a result when he'd tried to grab on to her. He wondered briefly if he'd ever get that sight out of his head — the thick, but not too thick thighs, the plump, slightly red cheeks, perfectly smooth and perfectly perky, and finally the glimpse he'd gotten of her pussy, the slit barely visible between the two mounds that surrounded it, but visible nonetheless. He knew instantly he'd be spending quite a bit of time in his bunk tonight, if he made it out of this. Behind the MEKA's bulk, he could see his comrades being mowed down by its guns, and he felt a pang of guilt...it was all because of him, he'd failed to stop her from getting in the thing, and now they were paying the price.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then dropped the blazer on the floor and drew his sidearm, trying his best to creep up behind the MEKA without being noticed.

Back in front, Hana was waving the MEKA's arms this way and that, sweeping great hails of bullets this way and that, while the men before her scattered and dived repeatedly for cover, before it was destroyed and they were **** to move again. She was finally getting a measure of payback, and it felt...right. She was enjoying herself so much that she kept shifting the MEKA forward down the hallway, step by thundering step. All the while, a certain guard was getting into range, coming right up within touching distance of the MEKA and grabbing onto its back. Hana paused, instinctively trying to look over her shoulder, but realising too late that the thing was blocking her, and she was stuck in a kind of suspended diving pose while piloting the machine that prevented her from repositioning easily. She turned her attention back to the front, hoping she'd just imagined whatever it was.

The Guard was now climbing gingerly up the MEKA's back, scaling its rounded pink chassis until he was level with the thing's rear access hatch. He examined it, trying to see if he could spot a failsafe button or handle of some kind, and sure enough...

He pried open a sealed panel marked 'DANGER: DO NOT TAMPER' with the butt of his gun, then smashed open a plexiglass- covered button and pressed it. Inside the cockpit, everything started flashing red. Hana swore, then started scanning the barrage of information being thrown up before her in a vain attempt to see what was wrong. Then, she saw it: 'EMERGENCY DESTRUCT INTIATED' it said, and Hana felt herself go a little paler. "No..." she choked out the words, "No...that's not—" Before she could get the rest of it out, she was launched up into the ceiling, colliding head-first with it, crying out in mingling pain and surprise, before falling heavily to the floor. Right behind her, the MEKA began to spark and wheeze as the engines cycled up for the self-destruct. She turned onto her back to look at it, eyes wide with terror, hand outstretched in a feeble attempt to block the impact of the blast.

In truth, Hana knew very well that, since she was keyed in to the MEKA's databanks as its rightful owner, her biometric data would be recognised and spared in the ensuing blast, which primarily targeted organic material, causing slight damage to unrecognised inorganic material, like technology or clothing. Her main concern, and the source of the aforementioned terror, was that the only clothing that was similarly keyed in to the MEKA's systems was the suit she usually wore with it. A suit that had been left in literal tatters across a bank vault and a Seoul alleyway. What she was currently 'wearing', namely the collection of plasters that were barely concealing her naughty bits, would not survive such a blast, even if the rest of her did.

"SHI—" the rest of her words were drowned out by the blast, as the armed men unlucky enough not to be either a sufficient distance away or behind suitably sturdy cover were obliterated...along with her plasters, and most of her new sneakers. The sound was deafening, and the only thing she thought to cover was her ears as a result.

When the dust had settled, most of the men were dead or ****, but Hana had escaped unscathed. Mostly. She opened her eyes, lowering hands away from her ears and sitting up. She looked down at the destroyed remnants of her sneakers, literally hanging off her feet, and then at what was left of her plasters, which was a few singed bits of sticky fabric, barely hanging on to her vulva. Her boobies were similarly uncovered once again, and she groaned at the state of herself.

*CLICK* She looked up, her expression analagous to that of a Rabbit in the sights of a Fox. Appropriate, really. The man who had taken her blazer was stepping over the wrecked remains of her MEKA, gun in hand. Hana went red as his eyes scanned up and down her naked body, and she clapped a hand over each boobie, trying to conceal her bunny-rabbit shaped landing strip and what it led to by crossing one thigh over another, cringing all the while. She'd lost her gun in the explosion, and—and...

"So...can we talk about this?" Hana asked, smiling nervously as she stood there, naked as a jaybird, thighs rubbing suggestively against one another.