Savannah only watched, more or less helplessly, as Alms was engaged. Her weapon didn't have the accuracy to spit rounds over five hundred meters at melee-interlocked hostile/friendlies and not hit the wrong person. The custom light titan grappled with its superior, only coming out due to the IMC's pilot abandoning ship and trying to use it as a sticky bomb.

What the fuck ever, the IMC were so fucking stupid, she thought to herself, they're just going to bleed themselves dry throwing away equipment and buying out useless mercenaries. Shrugging to herself- to be perfectly honest, Alms was well out of reach and overextended so that was his bad- she turned her focus back to the nearest enemy, a Tone that was attempting to push up to a closer position to get the angle on her.

She hosed it down as it dashed between cover, slowing it and forcing its pilot to deploy its shield and return fire. Given its new position in the open, the incoming fire shifted towards it, helping Savannah push the Titan into a critical state. With a pause, the top of it blew open, ejecting its pilot. Tracking the slight blur of invisibility, she waited for the pilot to fall... towards her. It seemed the IMC pilot wanted to tangle, try and get that pilot advantage on her.

She timed it just right, and the nondescript Tone pilot splattered from Savvy's titan punch. Nothing was left but bits and pieces, dust and blood-mist, lightly coating her already-red Titan. She returned her grip to her Predator, and let it cool down a moment before leaning out of cover to fire on more targets.

Can't cover you, Alms, when you're too far away grappling the most dangerous Titan on the ground, she thought to himself. This wasn't Grunt combat, this was Titans and Pilots. If he was gonna get locked down in the fastest and most agile mech on the ground, then he deserved to get blown up- even she could clear a nuke before it detonated, easy. Snorting to herself, Savannah returned fire at the progressively fewer IMC Titans, locking down an entire flank with her Predator Cannon firing out of cover. It seemed no one was willing to get close to her again- She saw a Ronin at one point, beginning to move to flank her, before she got a long enough look for the both of them to recognize the other- and he skedaddled away, that Ronin didn't want anything of a Legion carrying a Ronin Prime sword. Moderately damaged and with multiple kills under her belt- the IMC was falling apart.

A scream echoed across the battlefield and all who heard it stopped and turned toward the source. Ryan flipped a switch and said what everyone in his general vicinity was thinking. ”Sweet Jesus, what the hell was that? Sounds like someone’s limb was... blown... off... Wait, Alms’s Titan has sentience leveling a Simulacrum... That’s not good.With a wave a realization, he exclaimed into the comms, ”Everyone, find a Stryder-chassis, kill the Pilot, take out the A.I. core, but leave the body intact. If you find Commander, give him the hull. He may need it for repairs, probably more than may.” As the other Pilots in the area responded to his call-out, a Northstar took to the skies to get a clearer shot at his Titan. Ryan responded to this by jumping, grabbing its legs, and pulling it down. He reached in and ripped the Pilot out, contemplating him for a second, and called Command.

”This is Pilot Lieutenant Ryan Jäger, I have captured IMC Pilot... what’s your name... Pilot John Darrow. What should I do with him? Uh huh... uh huh... okay... Where would I... Ah! Affirmative.” He pressed a button and his Titan’s hatch flipped open. His helmet opened and he stared directly at the enemy’s helmet’s visor for several seconds, slowly leaning in before exclaiming, ”Congratulations! You are now a prisoner of war! No, but seriously, you’re a P.O.W. now. Which isn’t that bad because we treat our P.O.W.s well. I’m going to take you to a dropship and you’ll be not my problem. And as for your Titan, I’m going to scavenge it for parts, capiche?” Ryan opened the Northstar and placed the Pilot inside. He then ripped off the missile launcher, the thrusters, and snapped the Plasma Railgun in half. He then prodded the Titan with his minigun in the universal sign for “go that way”.

When Ryan got to the dropship, he relayed a message to the person flying the ship, saying that they will be carrying a P.O.W. and that one of the members of the squad that was carried will go with. As the ship flew away, he climbed out and addressed the remaining 3 Grunts, ”Okay, I know that you guys are down one, so I’m going to protect you. You will form a triangle around me and in return, I will fight extra hard for you.” And with that, he climbed into his Titan and closed the hatch. They might die. I hope not, at least not on my watch. Ryan and the Grunts (good band name) walked toward the facility. When they got to just outside the entrance, they saw a massive hoard of Tones and Brutes. ”Status?” ”Weapon systems nominal. Targets acquired. Smart Core ready. Fire when ready.” ”Oh, this will be fun.”

The Impact of several falling missiles was enough to dissuade James from dismounting from Kilo, if only for the immediate future. Reflexively activating the Vanguard's vortex shield, the falling ordinance was drawn harmlessly into suspension in front of his metal palm along with a handful of loose rubble from the previous skirmish. Narrowing his eyes at the blaring pilot lock warning, he turned his machine sharply and flared the shield, flinging the explosive cocktail of rocks and mortar shells in the general direction of the threat.

The impromptu projectiles smashed into the structure somewhere in the general vicinity but James didn't wait to see if the rising dust was accompanied by a red mist or battered corpse. Instead he instantly utilised one of three saved up electric smoke charges and blanketed the area around Kilo with Lock-preventing smoke. Using the loss of sight line to his advantage, he quickly disembarked from the safety of Kilo's cockpit, Flatline in hand and Wingman Elite on his thigh, and grappled onto a low roof adjacent to where the lock had come from, carrying his momentum into a wall-run as he made his way higher up the line of buildings, hopping across the wide gaps with well-timed Jump-pack blasts. At the same time, Kilo broke off and moved down one of the adjacent lanes in an attempt to break sight-lines, crushing an unfortunate squad of IMC marines in the process.

Once he has sure his titan was in a safer position, James crouch-slid to a stop in the shadow a silo or storage tank on the roof just across from the slightly scorched hole in the building where he had thrown the missiles and slowly scanned the nearby area, trying to make-out any sign of the enemy foolish enough to underestimate a Vanguard Pilot. Gen 3 Titans like Vanguards or Monarchs, their IMC knockoffs, weren't given to just any pilot after all. Mag-locking his rifle to his back and reaching into a specialised sheath on his chest, he quickly drew a Pulse Blade and tossed it in the general vicinity of building. If the enemy was still in the area, the radar technology within the specialised throwing knife would let James know immediately, even if they were hiding under a Cloak.

Angela had been well enough trained to gauge roughly how much damage all of her mortar-shells would do, should they be caught in a vortex-shield and flung back at her, it still did little to stop the trembling ouf her building as several of the rooms between her and the intended target became shredded and a chunk of debris flew inches from her face as she ducked and rolled to the relative cover of an interior wall, especially-reinforced with sandbags just for the occasion. This was their home-turf, after-all.

Checking her data-comms for any friendly spectres in the area to cover her, she found none just as her cloaking field flickered and gave-out. That Vangaurd pilot was good, and not just some farmer with barely a hint of experiance that happened to fall into the cockpit at just the right time in the titan's development. Still, this pilot's aggression could be their undoing...

An explosive satchel was easy enough to hide amongst the sandbags she'd just used for cover, there would be only a few limited approaches to her escape-route, and plenty of oprotunity to divert away from her intended route should someone try to corner her.

Shotgun-out, she made her way, knowing that the pilot probably had a radar-lock on her... but probably wouldn't take much notice of any ordnance or muntions laying-around in just the right places... such as a rocket-launcher rigged to fire at a door once opened, or a satchel rigged to seal her escape when it was closed.

Evee was still some ways out, and wouldn't take long to tell her to target her own hiding-hole with mortar-shells to clear the roof of any parkour-experts with sniper-rifles. However, Evee was also closer to the fighting, and now was at risk of being a target herself.