Alroy couldn't help but swear quietly to himself in satisfaction as the DropShip emerged from the clouds and fog, raining incandescent death down on the miniature power-suits that his own guns, and those of the rest of the two lances, had proven so impossibly ineffective against. His heat monitors were still shrieking shrilly at him, and he took a second to stop dead while the sinks dissipated his excess into the surrounding snow before opening back into the general com channel.<br/><br/>"Maxim Thirty-Four: When the going gets tough, the tough call for close air support. Good to see you, Bastion."