Metal glinted on metal for miles around, the rippling heat waves of the incredibly hot environment making the center of the day the worst time to be moving around. Bladed spires jutted out at odd angles, harsh black shadows the barest reprieve from the scalding temperatures outside. The husk of a once great building crumbled in the distance as the edge of a battleship reared out of the metal sea. The sky was clear, not a cloud in the burning sky. In this world of heat and edges, there was only one type of thing that moved in such harsh conditions. Heralded by a horrendous clang of metal on metal and the cacophony of scraping blades and booming gunfire, the former battleship's hull erupted into a ball of flame that did nothing good for the already hot air. 

A bipedal hulk leaped out, heavy jets firing moments before it impacted the ground with a sickening crunch, the rusted husk of a tank giving way to the heavy metal monster. It stared almost expectantly at the hull of the battleship, before leveling its weapon(A single-bladed axe with a blade edge that glowed a deep red) at the area directly below the blasted exit-hole. Its caution was rewarded as the metal bulged weirdly as two spikes ripped through the aging metal and tore open a path large enough for the mobile armor that followed to force its way through. Six legs of varying sizes hauled a massive body toward the mobile suit in a way that something so large should never move. Its furious charge forced aside the smaller wreckage in its mechanical fury, long blades unsheathing as it flew toward its target in a flurry of snapping death. The next two seconds filled the air with a horrible screeching and a stupid amount of dust as the mobile armor impacted. Sparks flew as a long, drawn out hissing drowned out even the flailing of the multitude of arms. 

The whirlwind of death stopped as abruptly as it had begun, the unnatural stillness and the raging heat taking control of the situation once more. The tangled heap of metal that used to be the proud form of the mobile armor shifted crumpled away as a large chunk of the blade remained stuck inside the shield of the still standing mobile armor. What had determined the fight was quite apparent. The mobile suit had darted into its enemy at the same time as the mobile armor had charged, driving the heat-axe into the core of the machine and letting the MA do the rest of the shredding to itself. The suit bent over to retrieve its axe before confirming the kill with a single stomp to the exposed cockpit. 

Inside the Reichsritter, Jonathan spat a harsh laugh out, before continuing to taunt his downed prey from inside his cockpit, punctuating each of his sentences with another stomp. "Such a little bitch.-"[i]stomp[/i]"-couldn't do jack to me-"[i]stomp[/i]"-waste of fuckin' fuel-"[i]stomp[/i]"-waste of air-"[i]stomp[/i]"-scratched my paint-"[i]stomp[/i].