Water was flung in every direction with each step the titanic machines took. The river churned and bubble as continual laser fire caused the surface to boil. Rockets screeched through the air, dirt on the walls of the channel being knocked loose by the sheer force of the flying projectiles. An explosion rocked the already damaged Wolfhound mech, flames washing over the cockpit like the bellowed fury of hell. In response, the hound puffed out it's chest, great beams of light bursting forth from the trio of cannons positioned there. The Panther and the Wolf stared one another down with unflinching valor. They loosed blow after blow upon one another, tearing at armor and turning their surroundings into slag. 

Han Bjornson's teeth clenched tightly together, his hands wrapped about the sweat-soaked controls of his mech. That mechwarrior, so young and brash, carried a grim look of determination upon his face. He had never faced down an opponent like this one before. Back at the Nagelring he had only sparred with students as inexperienced as himself. Han believed he was fighting the best of the best then. The Commonwealth's academy [i]had[/i] to field the best; that was it's reputation. Yet here Han sat, staring down a warrior that fought less like a man and more like a beast. 

The Panther's pilot pushed his machine ever forward, never slowing or faltering in his charge. Han was on the back foot, trying to remain at maximum range to avoid the punishing barrages of missile fire coming from his foe's SRMs. The Wolfhound was an incredibly quick machine, far faster than the Panther that stood opposed to it. Under normal circumstances, Han could've ran circles around this guy. Yet he had foolishly charged into the river channel, where his hound's speed was robbed by the rushing waters that clung around it's heavy legs. The Panther had no such troubles; it's jumpjets allowed it to explode forth from the depths, rushing through the air and closing the distance with a flurry of rocket fire.

Every blast beat against Han's mech with a rage he could barely stand. He held as strong as he could, but it was a fight just to remain upright. Many of his own return shots went wide because Bjornson was unable to steady himself. 

"Damn it..." He breathed, his chest heaving. The heat was unbearably ferocious. He could feel his shirt sticking to his chest, sweat dribbling down the contours of his face. His single heat sinks couldn't keep up with the pressure he was putting on the cabin with his own lasers. If Han didn't finish this fight quickly, or pull away, he'd end up blacking out. It was a terrifying thought, but he was forced to let it linger in the back of his mind- he could focus only on surviving. 

He sunk his teeth into his lower lip hard enough for the harsh taste of iron to leak into his mouth. Han pushed forward on his controls, reversing the direction the Wolfhound was headed in. "Damn you!" He howled, though his faceless foe could not hear his words. Bjornson wondered what the pirate inside that hunk of metal was like. Was he an ugly, bloodthirsty beast? Or merely a man forced into a life as bleak as this one? Questions that would never be answered, Han knew; but ones he could not help but let pass before his mind as he let loose another volley.

His large laser and three medium lasers flew in unison. They slammed into the front of the Panther, turning it's chest into molten metal. He could see coolant liquid coalescing with the fiery steel. He'd managed to damage the heat sinks, then. Good. Perhaps his enemy would begin to feel the heat that Han was under. Bjornson felt a surge of confidence fill his heavy chest. He could tell he was doing significant damage to his foe. [i]'Looks like I've finally got you, cretin.'[/i] He thought, his grim frown twisting into a wicked grin.

Pride came before the fall. The PPC on the Panther's arm, though heavily damage, was still functional- Han felt his heart sink the moment he watched it charge up. There was no reaction to be had except shock when the weapon's barrel was consumed by electricity and a beam of pure, unbridled energy cut threw the air. It struck the Wolfhound's left shoulder, nearly tearing the arm from it's socket entirely. The probe embedded within the limb went haywire, sending feedback flooding into Han's cabin. He screamed in pain at the high pitched noise his damaged neurohelmet gave off. Moments later, the whole machine reacted.

The Wolfhound stumbled before falling, the large laser's barrel digging into the mud at the bottom of the river. The mech was upon it's knees, it's arm hanging precariously by a small piece of unbroken metal, but it was clear it had been made useless by the critical blast. Bjornson felt himself fall forward, the harnesses digging into his shoulders and chest. His hands, shaky and cold, reached up to throw the damaged helmet from his head. The screeching didn't stop when he'd gotten it off. He could still hear a terrible, piercing ringing bouncing around in his skull. Han covered his ears with his palms, trying to steady his breathing as he waited for the sound to stop on it's own.

While he recovered, the boy was utterly and totally vulnerable. Han knew he could lose his life at any moment.

Yet, the killing blow never came. He turned his eyes to the viewscreens, watching as the enemy Panther climbed up out of the river. Someone else had engaged it. 'Thank God.' Bjornson allowed himself a brief moment of relief amidst the terror and fear of the situation. Once his hearing had returned and the ringing was at a minimum, Han lowered his hands. He caught sight of blood on one of his gloves and his heart leapt up into his throat.

[i]'D-did I rupture an eardrum?!'[/i] He wondered, his hand going back up to feel around that side of his head again. A sharp pain came when his covered fingers ran over his skull. A cut, likely from when he'd torn the neurohelmet off. Another sigh of relief. He'd gotten lucky. Extremely lucky. One wrong move, and...and...

[i]'Don't.'[/i] He had to tell himself, taking in a deep breath. He couldn't have a panic attack in the middle of battle. Bjornson, as calmly as he could, bent down to retrieve the helm he'd thrown away. After making sure he wouldn't cut himself on any misplaced edges, he lowered it back over his head, letting the sounds of battle roar in his ears once more.

Information flooded his mind. He knew now that it was Mattlov that had driven the Panther away, and the captain who was now tearing it apart at range. He saw, too, that the enemy Urbanmech was down, and the Thunderbolt was taking a heavy beating. Yet...friendlies had been damaged, too. The Rifleman's signal was faint, and Wulfhart's Griffin had suffered heavy damage as well.

It was a cause for concern, but with all the bogeys either down or heavily damaged, Han figured they would be alright.

Then Mattlov called out that the Thunderbolt was getting back up.

[i]'Shit. Shit. Shit!'[/i] Han forced his Wolfhound to rise, the gun plucked up from the depths covered in mud, drenched in water and decorated with a spattering of plants. He slowly climbed up out of the channel, his mech's broken arm hanging limply at it's side as it climbed. He appeared over the edge, finally getting a view of the greater battle that had waged in his wake. He saw now that leaving the boy alone with the Thunderbolt was a mistake. His mech had been utterly brutalized. If the enemy was able to get back on him...

"Wulfhart, get the boy out of there, now!" Han roared a warning. "That Thunderbolt will tear him to pieces!" He raised his Large Laser up, letting his own artillery loose upon the behemoth of steel and hate. Concentrated fire was their only hope of destroying it before the thing was able to get up and retaliate.