---

---

Elliot was almost caught off guard by the Fenrir coming about on his flank, almost. The fool thought he’d have the upper hand coming in from behind wielding a combat knife, and in most circumstances he might have been correct. Elliot was quick to pivot as the proximity alarm flared and fortunately was able to bring the haft of his maul between him and his assailant just as the opposing MAS brought the combat knife down. The screech of metal rang out as the tip of the knife managed to gouge a furrow deep down the front of Elliot’s MAS but Elliot pushed back hard and millimeter by millimeter the distance between them grew once more. As Elliot struggled to create some breathing room, his mind flew through potential moves to gain the upper hand. Sweat was running down his forehead and the cockpit felt 20 degrees hotter suddenly. It was only moments before he’d been routing the enemy forces with ease but now it felt like it could have been years ago as the moment seemed to stretch on and on. Was this going to be it?

Through grit teeth and a hate filled scowl Elliot growled, “Not fucking likely.”

Taking a deep breath to focus himself Elliot took stock of the situation one final time before deciding on a plan of action. With a smooth bit of handwork Elliot managed to slide the MAS’s grip up the haft of the maul whilst refraining from giving too much room to his knife wielding opponent.This new grip allowed Elliot to begin exerting the slightest bit of downward pressure on his foe. With a sly grin Elliot engaged the thruster on the maul. At first it almost appeared to have no effect but as the seconds grew longer it was becoming evident that the Fenrir was beginning to buckle under the pressure exerted by the Venator. Suddenly The MAS’s legs buckled beneath it and Elliot capitalized on the moment to slam his own MAS’s knee into the center mass of the fallen Fenrir with enough force to send it reeling the rest of the way to the ground.

The Fenrir struggled to rise but the standoff with the maul had resulted in critical damage to the joints in its legs that left it stranded on the ground with nothing but its combat knife. The Venator stood above it like a predator upon wounded prey. Elliot didn’t rush to finish his opponent, choosing instead to bring his maul down in an obvious overhead aimed for the cockpit that the Fenrir struggled desperately to block. Once again the sound of screeching metal rang out, but this time it was the tip of the Venator’s maul scratching an even deeper furrow down the front of the Fenrir as they once again locked armaments. This time though the Venator had the advantage over the crippled Fenrir and the outcome seemed inevitable. Just like before the Venator engaged the mauls propulsion and once more began slowly overwhelming the strength of the Fenrir. Elliot didn’t rush.

When it was finally over Elliot ripped the maul free of the ruined Fenrir and surveyed his surroundings as he tried to catch up with what had been missed during his duel. For a moment Elliot let a goofy grin slip onto his face at the thought of what had just occurred, his first duel! A part of the rookie couldn’t wait to share the story with the rest of the squad, surely they’d all had plenty of duels of their own that they could all share and bond over, right? Elliot shook himself free of the thoughts as he tried to peel his focus back to the battle at hand.

Quite a bit was going on outside his immediate vicinity, although between him and Rhino it appeared that they’d wrecked most of the counter-wave that the coalies had been attempting to set up. The Commander was covering Sabine, or on the way to at least, and Kilmer was hunting for whatever it was that decided to harass them as well as anything else that decided to make a nuisance out of itself. Elliot wasn’t positive on the Blackout’s location currently but so far that had been kind of typical of their shadowy overwatch so it wasn’t something that immediately threw him off. For the most part Elliot wasn’t sure how to proceed until two fresh radar signatures were pinged across his display a few hundred meters out.

“Rhino, Vulture, be advised two fresh signatures just pinged about 300 meters northwest of our position. Signatures lookin pretty beefy from here and I could use some protein in my diet so I’m moving to intercept, requesting assistance. Moving to make visual contact now.” Elliot informed his two comrades before the Venator burned in the direction of the new arrivals. The Venator made short work of the distance and rounded the corner to find quite an odd sight. For starters Elliot had just walked up on two Skollr, which admittedly he hadn’t any experience with yet. But more surprising of all was the third MAS present sporting no IFF signature or any sort of designation at all.

Elliot did his best to take in as much of the scene as quickly as he could but given the two heavy units he’d just walked up on there was no way he’d be able to stand around and gawk for long. With a quick burst from it’s burners the Venator slid behind a nearby building for cover as Elliot tried to make sense of the situation. The third MAS was damaged from what Elliot could tell and also seemed to be fighting with the two Skollr. Elliot hadn’t been able to get the best look at it but in a situation like this it had to be a friendly unit likely, maybe one of the Helldogs perhaps. Regardless, Elliot had to intervene sooner rather than later.

“Arrival has revealed to heavily armed Skollrs and a third unidentified unit. The unidentified unit appears to be hostile towards the Skollr and hasn’t exhibited any hostilities towards myself, not that they’ve had the chance with their hands full with two Skollr. Either way I’m moving in to assist but requesting assistance ASAP.” With that said Elliot took two deep breaths and then the Venator burned once more as it dodged out from behind its cover and boosted towards the Skollr’s position in a desperate bid to waylay the two Skollr long enough for either the Secutor or the Commander to arrive, or perhaps even Kilmer or one Helldogs. Either way Elliot had to buy some time.

---

<<Engaging.>>

With blessings given, he set off, punching the throttle as far as it'd go.

For the next few tense seconds, this was all the 7th, all the UEE, all the field at large heard out of Roy, as the Shrike's thrusters roared to life anew and carved a blue-white tear through smoke-laden skies, diving out of the earth and into the sun on high. He strained his vision, pushing out comm chatter that passed by regarding the world he was leaving below, and searched. His ear was now tuned only to the readout of his sensors, and to the rattling of his airframe. He searched. Like Kojiro, seeking to pierce the glare and find Musashi, before Musashi and his long, heavy oar found him. He searched—

[WARNING: ENERGY SPIKE DETECTED.]

A flash. A shift in the lumen. Lightning surged through his muscles.

And through grit teeth, he swallowed the iron at the back of his tongue, and defied Kojiro's infamous fate, yanking hard at the controls once again. He pulled the Shrike into a hard roll, the first column of light cooking the part of the world that had, base instants ago, held his cockpit. He raised the autocannon, intent to mask his approach behind the last rounds of fire he could muster—

[WARNING: ENERGY SPIKE DETECTED.]

And loosed them blindly, forced by the second shot to rebound from the first weave into another, ignoring the parts of his torso that screamed at being wrenched between the gears of two full-speed, mirrored corkscrews back-to-back. But he had to grin and bear it. If he hadn't transformed into flight mode, he was sure he'd have lost his legs. Clearly, Kilmer'd gotten what he'd asked for— this guy had kept an eye on him, and knew not to let him breathe!

Come on, come on...

Sensors flared. The chassis shuddered under the shear forces, the high gs giving it all it could handle. The engines roared, putting even the biggest and throatiest V8s from home to shame—

A ping, and a scream.

<<Target detected. AATx-007 Jaeger.>>

[WARNING: ENERGY SPIKE DETECTED.]

I see you.

He pitched up immediately, pulling the Shrike back out of flight mode once more— and with his autocannons dry, rerouted all power to two places. Firstly, his afterburners, as he skimmed over the top of the sunbeam close enough that he might have cooked the paintjob. His eyes had finally found his foe, its wings of black pitch stark on the white field of the high sun. It had fed him three shots, a curt but respectful greeting, taking his skill seriously.

As for the second...

Both dark-cast reapers on the field wielded scythes of light, as it happened. As though the interplay of yin and yang were told through their battle, it had been long understood that neither could exist without their opposite, lest they be reduced to void. That much was true of this moment too, as the teardrops swirled at once— and the hunter was now the hunted. The long shafts of light, the scythe of the former, would be swung no more. The short but brilliant fang of the latter would see its day in the sun.

The Shrike screamed forth, beam saber surging, as Kilmer's wide-eyed grin could no longer be hidden within his voice, adrenaline dulling all the pain.

<<Good to meet you, Jaeger!>>

He crashed in close behind his blade, aiming to either take out that cannon or force their new friend to arm itself for the fight at hand, as he made his greetings at the edge of swordplay, all pomp and circumstance and rich enthusiasm. This was how Kilmer gave his respect to the skilled— any interesting opponent got him at full throttle, and never anything less.

---

<<They're falling back!>> One of the Helldogs crackled over their comms as a combination of the Secutor's and Venator's direct assault, began to break the backs of the Coalition forces. Infantry abandoned their positions, and those too close to flee threw their hands up in surrender. The remaining MAS still put up a fight, but it was clear their hearts were no longer in it, as they began to fall back in order to reconsolidate their forces. The Helldogs surged forward to fill the gaps, though not reckless as one might expect of regular forces. Their advance was methodical and coordinated, calling out their positions to each other as well as Rhino as they advanced in tandem with the Secutor, forming a veritable wall of autocannon spewing death.

<<Left, fire left!>>
<<Steady, keep in line with the Sec, don't overextend.>>
<<Fuck! I'm hit, falling back!>>

The comms were crackled and clipped, as return fire whizzed past and dented armor, one of the Helldog Sentries taking a direct hit to the torso, shaken but not out of the fight just yet. The damaged Helldog fell back behind Rhino, using the Secutor's bulk as cover as the Sentry fired over its shoulder.

<<Aww, boss you do care about us after all huh?>> Sabine cackled as Sparrowhawk hunkered down for a moment, HPK and laserfire strafing around her position. Pits of dust and concrete kicked up as the Watchdog scored a half dozen kills on various infantry positions still converging around Sabine, a dropped AT launcher flying high, giving her enough space to break out of the potential encirclement. The Sparrowhawk, while grounded for the time being, was still a zippy fighter, using its remaining thrusters to skate across the wrecked roads, as she approached Braide's position from an angle.

Sabine cocked an eyebrow as she examined the fight happening before them- two Skollrs and a third one not showing up on IFF. She snorted into her comms.

<<I recognize that ugly dome anywhere.>> Sabine snorted as she put a temporary IFF label on the unknown, pinging it as friendly. <<Rook, go be a knight in shining armor and pull Hex out of her little scrap- I can't wait to hang that over her head for the next week and a half.>> The pink haired menace cackled even as she leveled her rifle and began to take potshots at the Skollrs from a distance. Plasma beams flew over the Venator's shoulders as Sabine landed a quick pair of hits on the Skollr directly facing off with Hex, melting the barrel of its gun with the first shot, and blowing off its arm with the second.

The Sparrowhawk took into the sky- for only a moment as Sabine leaped for the roof of the nearest building to get a better angle on the fight.

---

Meanwhile, up in the sky. The Jaeger managed one last shot at the Shrike before it was too close. The Jaeger boosted backwards, releasing its grip on its rifle just in time for the Shrike's beam saber to cut through its space, sundering the weapon with an explosion. If the Jaeger pilot was panicked at all, it didn't show. A harsh voice growling over the comms in response.

<<Well met, Imperial dog.>>

The Jaeger strafed to the side, a panels on its shoulders, torso and head began to glow and flash rapidly as it drew its own beam saber. It strafed right, fast, then left again. The Shrike's optical sensors began to register not one, not two, but four Jaegers screaming towards him. The four Jaegers flickered as they surged towards Kilmer's right, blade back ready to thrust.

<<Goodbye, dog.>>

At the last moment, Kilmer's proximity sensor screamed that something was coming from directly left.

---

<<Vulture, Rhino, good copy, assuming Squad Lead. Allied elements, keep up the good work, walking fire across the right flank, bound up on my mark. Mark!>>

Rhino had shifted from focusing on his own efforts and piloting to organizing the counteroffensive properly. Properly, of course, meant naturally integrating the Helldog's preferred method of shorter, clipped call outs and more focused on just getting the point across. He chimed in naturally, moving forward at a steady pace, making sure to never outpace the Helldogs and friendly infantry support. It was good to see the hostiles buckling proper, infantry scattering or just surrendering outright while return MAS fire was becoming more of an obligation rather than anything heartfelt. Didn't mean damage couldn't be done, however, as one of the Helldogs fell back to use the Secutor as cover, and he retracted the 20mm to provide both a stable firing position for the rifle, and an unobstructed view to work with, syncing his frame's steps in time with the damaged Sentry to minimize any obstruction of outgoing fire. Rabbit ID'd the mystery frame trying to tango two on one against Skollr units, Hex but no outbound comms, probably took a nasty hit. Explained the radio silence at the very least, and he was cool and professional over comms, even as he worked between callouts and coordination with the Helldogs.

<<Rook, Rhino, coordinate with Rabbit to support Hex.>>

Rhino swapped to a direct line to not clutter the squad comms, and to not put the rookie on possible blast in front of everyone. Fighting Heavy MAS was a dangerous gambit, even in another MAS, and he could hear the overconfidence in Rook's voice after performing reasonably well so far after touching down, especially compared to the space engagement. He was still calm, but more direct in tone compared to the squad wide tone he adopted once being tapped for temporary lead.

<<With comms down you can't assume anything, work around what you see. Heavy MAS like those only need to get one good hit in to do critical damage, especially if kitted out for urban warfare. Go for joints, optics, feed mechanisms, the small things that can't be armored easily, and work them over from there.>>

Rook wanted reinforcements, and rightly so, but until the Coalition MAS units stopped fighting, Rhino couldn't simply go chasing after the next biggest target, and he had Rabbit heading that way from the looks of it to help work over the Skollr units. Ideal world he would be deploying to help bring them down, but until the Helldog front was secured, he couldn't leave them in the lurch. Even if one wasn't using him as cover, which they were, it came with the duties of squad lead. Vulture, squad lead actual, had diverted to make room for Rabbit to get clear of her crash site and re-engage, while Commie was busy hunting the Coalition toy that had grounded Rabbit to begin with. Sending another burst of 30mm into a Coalition MAS that tried to poke out to lay down suppressing fire, forcing it back with damage along its side.

<<Center right ducking, bounding up to the wrecked APC!>>

The Secutor advanced, though 'bounding' might be optimistic. Compared to the dueling super frames and the rest of his squadron, Rhino was practically plodding. Even compared to the Helldog Sentry frames, they could readily outpace him if they so wanted to, it came with the territory and it was something he was used to. Sparing another glance at the duel in the sky, and ignoring the rattle of 35mm across his frame as he subconsciously shifted to shield the Helldog behind him from further incoming fire, he spotted the explosion of a weapon's platform, though the duel was still going fierce. Well Rhino assumed so, any attention directed that way set his optics and sensors on the fritz, not even a firm smack of the console seemed to resolve it. Hex, Rabbit, and Rook were dancing with the two Skollr, he was still tied down on the Helldog front, and Commie was alone on high. He opened a channel to Vulture between confirmations and chatter with the Helldogs, given Rabbit had taken good advantage of the danger close run to get free of her crash site.

"Vulture, Rhino. Commie nailed the Jaeger's weapon but optics are acting fuzzy trying to track what's going on beyond that. Recommend making all good speed up there to help, rest of us are pretty firmly grounded or too entangled to disengage and assist."

As novel, and amusing, an idea as it was, a flight capable Secutor would lose almost all the advantages the frame had currently with fairly limited gains at best. Something would have to go, the combined weight of every modification, weapon platform, and support system would kill nearly any conventional flight system capable of gravitational work. Rabbit was down, Hex was comms down, and he wasn't about to suggest Rook make a hard turn and go get into a whole new kind of trouble. Rattling fire across his armor refocused his attention, another burst of 30mm chewing away at the cover of the offending Coalition MAS, encouraging the pilot to either run or keep their head down, covering gaps left by the Helldog angles of fire as they called them out. No sense giving the already broken enemy a chance to get any more serious hits to force the Helldogs to spend more time in repair after the LZ was finally declared secure enough to establish a base of operations.

---

<<Eyes on the prize down there, fellas!>> came the crowing rejoinder, as close to a 'belay that' as their flyboy could reasonably get away with saying to his two outright superiors. Within the box, Kilmer's hands flew in doubled tempo, clicking off of the secured communications line for the 7th, and back to universal chatter— just in time to hear the cold, desolate growl of his duelist opposite, undeterred by the loss of his long-range armament.

Good. Very good!

The Shrike, naturally, stuck to the Jaegar like glue even as it strafed away, trying to build distance and regain its footing. The two beam sabers crashed against eachother time after time, Kilmer refusing to lose his momentum— half the reason the snarling grin had plastered itself across his handsome features was all the hard work he'd done to get in this close, and leverage his bird's agility behind the plasma's cutting edge.

Sparks flew, blossoms of azure fireworks that came and went with the wind on high as their blades clashed. For all the cool under fire, Commie was certain he had the Coalition ace on the back foot— meaning it was by no accident. His man would have something up his sleeve to get himself out of the tight spot before he was totally overrun by the Shrike's thrust-to-weight ratio—

A flicker upon its form. Then a flash, then a blur, and Roy understood the card he'd drawn. At the barest bit of distance eked out, his prey broke off...

And then there were four of it in view, their beam sabers all drawn and casting the shrike in a curtain of their ambient glow. As one, they dove back into the fray, looking to intercept his next strike with a quartet of thrusts of their own, skewering him from his starboard flank—

All flickering.

His eyes danced about the field, double-checking his work faster than most people could ever process the first thought. Seemed that this gambit hinged on the assumption that Commie hadn't been on the defending end of Sab's last dozen 'funny ideas' regarding her optical camo suite in BFM and Combat Trials; after three years racing eachother from rack to cockpit, Roy Kilmer might well have been in the running for the Union's foremost expert at picking out tricks of the light, discerning signal from noise.

All fake.

Oldest trick in the damn book. If this wise guy wanted Roy looking one way...

He hit the thrust, pushing the stripped-down chassis straight up even as his sensors flared, punching out of the trajectory of the holograms—

<<You wound me, Coalie!>>

And rolling into a tight hairpin, bringing his saber down to meet the true Jaegar, who had very nearly cored him from the blind angle with his little trick. Like hell he wanted Vulture up here, this guy had jokes!

<<We've only just met, let's get to know eachother a little!>>

The Shrike's metal sabaton lashed out in a hard mule kick, aiming to shake the chassis, disable the camera, knock his foe off balance again.

<< Care's a strong word, Rabbit! >> Sagan called back over comms as he continued cleaning up enemy infantry with his point defense lasers. << Filling out next-of-kin notifications's a bitch, is all! >> An HPK burst on a particularly dug-in position silenced them, and then he was left with a moment to catch his breath and regain his bearings.

Right, battlefield analysis. Rabbit at least wasn't getting herself killed now, though it meant Sagan would have to pick up the slack in the squad's aerial overwatch until her flight systems were back online. Rhino was fine, alerting him to Commie's situation, Hex was being engaged upon, and Commie...was being Commie.

A sigh. Pension, pension, pension. One day. Half of it would be going to alimony, but it was still better than nothing.

<< Right, Rook, you heard the lady: give Hex some backup, on the double. Moving to assist Commie. Commie, quit bitching before you start, we ain't got the time for a duel. >>

The Watchdog blazed towards the aerial duel, full afterburners blasting. The two combatants were too close in melee for him to line up a shot of any sort, so he'd have to close in to saber range himself. While he did, though...

Even as the Shrike moved to slam a foot into the enemy MAS's chassis, Sagan reached the extreme edge of lock-on radius, getting tone on the duelist in order to at least try to throw the pilot off balance.

---

---

Elliot couldn’t help but admire the way the Blackout moved on the battlefield, the impressiveness of the feat was recognized even by the rookie squad member. As much as Rook wanted to watch Hex’s prowess further that was of course tabled by the ever present threat of death looming overhead, and of course the Skollr that was hungry for a piece of Rook. He would be going hungry today if Rook had anything to say about it. Maul out and at the ready Elliot powered up the boosters and engaged the thrust as he aimed to close the distance and finish the fight in one blow. Already he could taste the victory on his tongue, he could relish in it shortly. Dashing forward dashingly he would sweep forward with his Maul and impale the enemy MAS through its center mass and remove it from the fight in one decisive move. At least that was how things were supposed to play out as far as Elliot was concerned.

Unfortunately a frontal charge was as obvious as the sunrise and it was no meager rookie in the pilot seat of the Skollr before Rook. Anticipating his actions the Skollr had already begun spinning up it’s gatling even as Rook had begun his dash, Rook could only realize all too late his folly as the enemy MAS brought the weapon up and released a stream of fire towards him. Rook did his best to pivot the Venator and attempt to dodge but his moment was already committed to his original direction and refused to be swayed so easily. The resulting maneuver managed to both save and cost him as the Venator slid in the terrain and managed to avoid taking direct fire center mass. Rook was unable to escape unscathed however as a stream of munitions tore apart his shoulder launcher and a few outliers tore apart a bank of optics on his left side. Rook’s teeth were practically on the verge of shattering with how hard he was gritting them as he pushed the Venator to boost sideways as he sought cover to reevaluate. Perhaps rushing in hadn’t been the best idea.

Rook quickly began scanning the battlefield from his place of cover as he tried to locate Hex. He was hoping they’d been spared catching too many of those rounds with Rook there to take most of the Skollr’s attention but when he finally found the Blackout huddled behind cover as well it was easy to tell that they’d suffered a few hits. Fear suddenly took hold of Rook as his imagination ran wild in the absence of any way to confirm Hex’s status, his worries were compounded by the fact that although the Blackout was behind cover it was also unmoving. His first thought was to hail her over comms but he knew that was useless and could only try and formulate a plan or some sort of next step.

And suddenly he was relieved, the Blackout was moving again, Rook gave out a cheer that reverberated around his cockpit before he tamped down his excitement. At least Hex wasn’t out of the fight yet, they still had a chance. But then suddenly Rook’s systems were alerting him to a target lock and panic set in as he initially tried to locate the angle that the Skollr might have gotten on them but nothing obvious stuck out as it appeared they were still under cover. Then it dawned on him that the signature was coming from the IFF’less MAS that he’d previously been certain was the Blackout. For a moment doubt crept in and Rook worried he’d fallen into a trap. Noticeably the feeds from his remaining optics began going haywire for a moment and Rook’s anxiety grew. Every nerve was screaming at him to go on the offensive before it was too late but Rook pushed hard to hold those instincts back as the seconds ticked by.

R̴̪͚͇̙̈́͑̊͒̓̄͂̀̈́̍̉̅̓̕͘ö̸͕̬̭̗͈͇̾̆͒͌̐̂͊͌̊̉̅̓͌͆͊̈̒̉͜͠͝͠ō̸̧̢̬̣̯̘̣̑̑̓̈́̆͐͐̃͛̽̈̌͜͝͝k̶͎͍̼͉̀̋̉͊̂̀̀̈̕͝͝,̴̢̢̼̪͎͕͕̙̪̙͎̩̤̫̬͕̃͂̇͋́͛͑͘͝ ̷͇̲̬̞̹̥͇̞͓̟͚̐̃̍̿̿́̿͋͠ͅḯ̶̧̧̛̗͔͇̩̘͔͙͋̍̆̑̍̂͋͘̕͠t̷̨̛͙̠͉̞̠̦̾͒̅̄͗'̷̹̞̖̎̿̄̀̏̈̆͌̊͊̚͠ͅś̸̛͎̫̻͖̮̮͚̱̭̜̹͍̱̲̽̋̽͂̈́̒̊̿̋͋̚͜ ̸̧̠̥̻͔͍̽̂̓͋̏̉̇̅͛͐̈̏̀́̽͘̕̚H̴̛̪̼̝̮̹͉̿͛̾́͛͆͒͑e̵̼͈̥̱̅̽̋̄́̒ͅx̸̢̫͔͈̰̹̱̺̠̣̱̯̲̟̲͕͙̺̠̔̇͐̃̆̌͑̑͐̐́͒̎̅́͘͜͠͠!̴̢̤̦͍̜̫̠̟͉͎̩̙͖̹̏̅̎͂̈́̌̓̂̃̓͗̅̋̿͋͒͐͗̕͜͝, I̷̛͈͍̿̏ ̵̠͉̙̲̼̐̚s̶̹̞͇͓̥̽̕a̶̩͖̙͕̙̼͒̀̾͠y̵̧͖̠̞̓̌͜ ̷̛̝̗̭͎ā̷̙̲̣̖̘͙g̸̖̣̹̿͆̀̆̾ä̷̲̅̾̈́ȉ̴͙̬͕̱̓n̴͚̰͆̈̍̊,̴̣̇̾͝, t̵̫͆h̴̡͒̓i̸̘͐s̸̭̥̊͝ ̶̪̆̏͜í̵̢͓͒s̸̖̾̐ Hex! Can you hear m̷̰̑e̴̦͒ ̷̪͋o̶̜͑ń̵̝ ̷̳̔ẗ̵̩ḧ̶̟ḯ̵̼s̸̲͑ ̷̯͝f̸͇̀ṙ̸̰ē̸̖q̸͎̒ǔ̶̧é̵͓ň̷̮c̶̖͛y̵̲͛?̵̭̀"

Rooks fear quickly and eagerly gave way as shock and relief took over instead, somehow Hex had managed to figure something out. A nagging thought in the back of his mind demanded that he figure out everything the Blackout was capable of, at least somewhat so surprises like this weren’t likely.

"These things are s̶̮̑l̵̮̓o̸̜̒w̶̻̿.̸̠̕ ̸̩̇T̸̞͛h̶̭̅e̸̡̎y̷̝̓ ̵͕͐ḏ̸͂o̶͙̓n̶̨̎'̷̩̃t̸͖̆ turn well at all! K̵͍̓e̴̺͆e̸̱͌p̶͕̏ ̸̱̐n̸̙̚ì̷̼m̶̫̃b̴̳͊l̷͎̽e̵̺͘.̵̢̅ We'll o̴v̷e̴r̴w̷h̷e̸l̴m̶ ̸t̴h̴e̸m̸ one at a time together!"

Rook wasn’t really sure how this worked, if the comms Hex had created were two way or not but the best way to find out was trial and error, ”Hex! Good to hear from you! I hope this works both ways, I’m with you! If not, uh, I don’t know. We’ll still figure it out, I think. Whatever, I’m with you let’s go!”

With that Rook hefted his Maul and prepared for a counterattack.

---

<<Hon hon hon fucknuts, here comes the cavalry!>> Sabine blared over her external comms as the Sparrowhawk raced with the Venator towards Hex and the Skollrs. The Sparrowhawk overtook the Venator as it juked off to the side to dodge fire, Sabine boosting in the other direction to stay out of target. Bright red warnings were painting her face with their glow as her onboard systems begged her not to overheat her cannon. She muted the warnings, but gave her weapons system a rest anyway as she stopped firing, just long enough to take the hilt of the Sparrohawk's beam saber and slot it into the rifle's bayonet lug. Sabine whooped as she took her machine into a spin, still maintaining forward momentum as it scooped the burnt remains of half a car off the ground and hucked it at the Skollr firing at them.

The car itself didn't do any significant amount of damage to the Skollr, but knocked it off balance- just enough to make it stop shooting, just enough for Sabine to zip in towards the disarmed (literally) Skollr and steal Hex's kill. Sparrowhawk's beam saber flared to life, the barrel of the plasma rifle jamming itself into the Skollr's armless torso, beam saber melting through plating even as Sabine pulled the trigger- the point blank blast of plasma carving straight through the melted armor plating and vaporizing the cockpit- and anything inside.

By the time the second Skollr had righted itself, it found the Venator too close to easily fire upon it, and instead tried to use its heavy cannon like a club to bludgeon the Venator away.

As the elite Skollrs crumble, that seems to be enough to fully break the remaining spirits of the sparse resistance that was trying to hold back Rhino and the Helldogs. The remaining Fenrirs and Garmrs fully break away and begin to pull out- what few remained able to move anyway. To Rhino's right, a Fenrir with a heavily damaged leg and torso drops its weapon, and lifts its arms up into the air, the cockpit opening a moment later- the pilot inside stepping out and mimicking the surrender as well.

The Helldogs whoop over their comms, one of the Sentries- the damaged one- pausing long enough to offer the Secutor a mech-sized fist bump. <<You 101st guys are fucking crazy.>> Came the distorted comm, one of the hits must have rocked his communications equipment, <<We ever see each other after this, I owe yall a beer.>>

---

Kilmer heard the comm click, something akin to a Tsk! as his beam saber came down. The Jaeger was fast- blindingly so, but it was clearly not expecting the Shrike to survive its initial strike. Too reliant on technology, too unprepared for a melee duel, or perhaps some combination of the two, the Jaeger brought its blade up in time to stop Kilmer's bream saber from cutting through the cockpit. The Shrike's beam saber deflected off the edge of the coalition saber, skating down the edge and melting the manipulator before sheering it off, the green blade of plasma flipping in wild circles as it fell to the ground- woe be to whoever was unfortunate enough to be standing under it when it hit.

The following kick sent the Jaeger tumbling through the sky for a second before the pilot caught himself and righted his flight. A moment later, Sagan's Watchdog registered a lock on, the Jaeger began to jerk instinctively, attempting to shake off any possible incoming munitions.

<<Another time the, you dog.>> came the clipped growl of the Jaeger pilot, <<I'll be keeping my eye out.>>

With that, the Jaeger began to boost away, dropping flares and chaff as it made its not so noble retreat from the battle space.

---

He smirked, despite his disappointment— or maybe attempting to mask it. Either way, his litany of complaints that this was how things turned out just when they were heating up was, as ordered, stowed— even as the Shrike ground to a halt in midair. His magazines were dry after the initial run through Gelcastre, and totally spent in covering his ingress to close range. If the Jaegar's pilot managed to shake the radar spike Vulture had on him... he was just about as good as gone. One final parting shot was all Roy had left in the tank, and to that end...

The channel clicked.

<<'Till the wheel of fate turns again, Jaeger.>>

And clicked away, killing the connection for good. There was a warm, wet, and metal-tasting feeling dribbling down the corner of his mouth. He knew he was going to be short on time before his heart slowed and he had to reckon with the long flight home— best get the most out of what was left from affairs down here while he could.

In a far gentler corkscrew than prior maneuvers, the Shrike inverted and made for the deck, following the jettisoned trophy that his prey had been forced to leave behind. As his course took him level with the watchdog, Kilmer switched to the 101st's exclusive line.

<<Commie to all units,>> he began, maintaining that ever-present radio voice but unable to keep the strain from creeping in at the edges, low and thick with blood. <<Appreciate the support.>> Polite fib. <<Enemy unit's left behind a good present for the boys working R&D— it was just Christmas back home, I owe them something.>>

---

Rabbit was as cheerful as ever, in spite of her wings getting clipped by the most recent Coalition toy, which at least meant she had bounced back fine. Good, it would tilt the balance against the two urban Skollr units in their favor even more. One of the dangers of career Heavy pilots was getting overrun, it was too easy to get so used to shrugging off 'small' munitions that overextending became second nature. Given the collapsing resistance against the Helldogs and himself, they were clearly too tunnel visioned to break off or reposition. They could have done some damage to the main frontline if given the chance to freely engage, but they were too busy to even consider that. Their funerals, Rhino thought, as the frontline finally buckled. Fenrir and Garmr units finally broke and ran, or threw down their arms if they couldn't run. He had his 30mm trained on the Fenrir that threw down its arms, pausing as the cockpit swung open and pilot stepped out making the same gesture. Only then did he turn the weapon away, doing a sweep. Dead, fleeing, or surrendered, losses seemed relatively light for those who had actually made it down to the ground, at least for an orbital assault on a fortified planet. The damaged Helldog seemed impressed at least, and he gave the Helldog the offered fist bump after retracting the 30mm into its internal housing.

<<Couldn't do it without you folks providing backup. Good work out there Helldogs, we'll leave the ones smart enough to surrender to you.>>

Commie finally saw fit to chime in, strain at the edges of his voice, at least playing nice for now and reporting the capture of Coalition tech to turn over to R&D. That and the recent influx of combat data should keep them plenty busy for a few days at least, see what toys they could come up with for field testing. Rhino had to admit to some enjoyment of trialing new and experimental kit, old habits died hard he supposed, though there was going to be plenty of time to talk shop over incoming experimental kit later. For now he composed himself out of the habits he had briefly adopted leading the Helldogs, chiming in now that things were, at least for a moment, more secure than they had yet to be.

<<Commie, Rhino, good copy. Trying to single handedly keep R&D busy for while we are planetside? Rook, Rabbit, once you three are done playing with your food, recommend escorting Hex back. Need to get that comm situation sorted out sooner rather than later.>>

Rhino kept an eye out for any further incoming trouble, though he was already getting the Secutor's Revenant Field Repair Suite programmed and spooled up. He had soaked a good amount of incoming fire, and while his armor was far from compromised, he was not keen on letting it just sit idly and twiddle his thumbs waiting. Getting the Field Repair Suite programmed and on standby for when they were ready to return to wherever ended up counting as base camp for the immediate time being would save him time down the line. Plus, if some Coalition diehard made a rush on them, just having the FRS on standby wouldn't impact his ability to fight or respond. Until then he kept eyes and ears open and alert, no time to relax until off the metaphorical line. Helldogs should have prisoners handled, so that put him on sentry and watch standing duty until the everyone regrouped.

Sagan grit his teeth as Commie's new best friend decided to turn and burn instead of sticking around. He fired, of course. A pair of missiles came streaking out of their launchers, but were stymied by the Coalie's flares as he fled. God fucking damn it. The one Coalie in this fight that was capable of doing extreme damage, and of course he was getting away.

<< Commie, make note of that one. He shows up again, I want him dead as quick as you can, duel or not. We let that one run amok, someone else might not make it back home next time. >>

The commander exhaled slowly as he focused his attention on the rest of the field. Most of the opfor was pulling out, and the ones furthest up were surrendering. Phase 1 was complete, then.

<< Right, 7th, that's enough. Stand down and prepare to meet up with our supply convoy. They'll be setting up our FOB before we move forward with the next phase of the op. >> He said over private comms before switching the band to the one shared with the Helldogs.

<< Helldogs, Vulture. Thanks for the assist. Transmit me Rhino's report card as interim team leader when you can, would you? He's got grades to make. If you're headed out, good hunting out there. >>

---

<< Gross. Hex just gave my Sparrowhawk an STD!>> Sabine complained over the squad comms as they skated back towards the rest of the squad, the staging area now a hub of activity as more and more MAS and transports began to touch down, clutches of infantry deploying from landing craft and additional Helldogs forming a perimeter around the area. The battle above and around them was far from over, and more than one landing craft careened through the air in flames, impacting the ground not far away. The sounds of cannonfire crackled in the distance like thunderbolts, underlined by the rapid staccato of small arms fire, and the chaotic noises of the city of Gelcastre itself was a dull din that filled the rest of the air.

The Helldogs sent wilcos and over-and-outs over to Vulture as several units of mechs began to stomp their way towards the city proper, making their way towards their own objectives, but the 7th weren't bound for the city- not yet. The 7th fell in with Vulture's Watchdog, and using the cover of the chaotic battle around them, stole away into the great forests outside of Gelcastre city. While not exactly megaflora, it was perhaps convenient to them that the planet of Skogsrå was known for its massive forests- literally massive, with trees thicker than the Secutor, and hundreds of feet tall, it was easy for a small squad of mechs to get lost in them. The battle further covered their tracks with scattered heat signatures and wide range jamming on both sides, though the 7th did relegate themselves to merely walking in their machines rather than flying or boosting along the ground.

It was two hours of steady marching through the woods before the 7th met up with their supply convoy, a small train consisting of a pair lightly armored supply transports, and a pair of trucks dragging mech trailers- doubling as repair bays along with them.

---

---

It was another two hours of travel before they convoy found a relative 'safe' place, a clearing in the woods at the foot of a waterfall with a natural cove in the wall. Enough tree cover that they wouldn't be seen from above- with just enough space for their lighter MAS to fly up and out if they needed to scramble. The MAS were 'parked' crouching, and thermal blocking camo-netting was stretched over the mechs and camp, forming a small canopy. Within the hour, a small, but functional camp had been established, the trailers hidden within the cove, while the transports formed a psuedo wall for the camp itself. Supply officers and techs were quick to set up a supply tent- that doubled as a mess hall for what few personnel were present, and an operations tent was set up near the center of the camp. A few of the Roanoke's marines set up a perimeter and established a guard post at the nominal 'front' of the camp, though everything was kept underneath the camo netting and as low key as possible.

Breathing room. For a moment.

The Sparrowhawk and Blackout were the first ones loaded onto the trailers for repairs, and Sabine climbed out of the chest of the Sparrowhawk, pausing only to huck a pinecone at the opening Blackout's cockpit- aiming for dark head of hair belonging to its pilot. "How's it feel to get your ass saved by the Rook?" Sabine teased as she pulled her helmet off and stuck her tongue at the infantry veteran.

As the rest of the pilots disembarked from their machines, crew chiefs, along with a small unit of technicians poured out of the tents and transports to begin what servicing they could provide to the machines, given what limited tools they had on hand. The head of the techs waved Sagan down as he disembarked. "With all the damage and resupply needed, we should have you guys turned around and ready to work in 10 hours- It'd be faster if the lights didn't get banged up like they did. Tell your pilots to be more careful, eh? Its not like we have a machine shop out here."

---

<<Here I thought I wasn't going to need that extra credit after all. Good copy Vulture, recommend letting the more battered take center, taking up rearguard position.>>

Rhino kept to the 7ths private comms when replying to Vulture, monitoring their surroundings as the rest of the group filtered in. Rabbit complaining like normal, Hex had made it back in spite of the damaged comms, and with everyone falling into formation, Rhino stayed true to his word and brought up the rear. Compared to those who had taken damage, he could basically confirm that nothing had gotten through the multiple layers of defenses and armor, though replacing armor would still take time and effort. Fortunately the Field Repair Suite would make short work of that, odds were his frame would be one of the last to go through refit and repair since it was practically designed to be rebuilt from near total failure conditions. All that being considered, it was going to be a long, boring march, but at least they weren't slogging it on foot like the infantry had to. He didn't envy them one bit, especially since he got to sit behind thick, sturdy layers of armor, reflex shielding, and some of the biggest weapons MAS units could typically deploy with.

---

Rhino was humming to himself, having silenced the comms as to not annoy the rest of the 7th, as their collective MAS units marched along. It was an old song that commemorated an ancient wreck from before humanity crossed the stars, if his family was to be believed, but regardless of how exaggerated that was it was damned catchy. Kept him alert, too, since that meant he wasn't just idling as the 7th continued to march. Though once they had eyes on the hidden encampment deep in the not quite megafauna forest, room for the lighter frames to fly and maneuver if need be. Secutor, though? That'd be the monster tearing through the underbrush, relatively speaking, though given the amount of effort going into keeping everything from being detected that should not be necessary for the immediate future. Unsurprisingly Rabbit and Hex had first go at the repair trailers, and he crouched Secutor low to allow the netting to be put into place. As the systems dropped into standby, he made sure to keep the Field Repair Suite warm and exhaled, allowing himself a few moments of quiet to relax before putting on his usual face and dismounting.

Lowering down to the ground, Johann dropped down onto the ground proper, stretching and giving the tech beginning to survey and log what needed changed and altered.

"Revenant FRS is warmed up when Secutor is next for the shop, munitions are the main concern by my estimate. Especially the CIWS, Coalition was determined to get their money worth out of their missile systems today."

Johann let the technicians and support crew do their work, instead noting that the other pilots were already disembarked. Boss was waylaid by the lead technician, probably getting an ETA on when they should be ready to deploy again. Given the nasty beating that Rabbit and Hex took, they had time to get some rest in. Still, the teasing from Sabine had already started in earnest, about Leah being bailed out by their ranking FNG. He chimed in as he walked over, already eying up the supply tent, mainly for its purpose as a mess tent, and he had every plan to go get himself a cup of coffee before trying to catch a few hours sleep. Not like he would get the luxury that easily, but he could at least try.

"Talking a lot of shit for having clipped wings Sab, found the most recent gimmick the hard way out there. Going to go grab a cup of coffee and kick my feet up, someone give me a shout if something comes up, yeah?"

Johann would make good on his word, turning and making a beeline for the mess tent. One would think coffee wouldn't be the most conducive to getting some rest, but the Secutor's pilot would disagree. At this point the stuff didn't even get his pulse going at all, a near constant preference for the stuff made the levels of caffeine in the coffee practically a non concern, it was a minor comfort at this point. He would know the war effort was well and truly fucked if coffee became unavailable, everything ran on coffee whether folks admitted it or not after all. It was never good, mind you, but it was there and that was all that mattered to Johann as he went to hunt down a cup, hell he'd brew it himself if he had to. After that, well, the one thing that everyone learned how to do eventually. Get in some rest where he could, at least before someone decided 'something coming up' meant literally anything and interrupted every few minutes.

---

The helmet came off, and a sweat-slicked mop of gold was pushed away from the eyes above tightly controlled, ginger breaths. Already, the ground teams were carting away the new Coalition-sourced toy that he'd had the Shrike set down before opening up, but there were a number of glances being cast up his way that he got the distinct feeling meant he wouldn't be so easily let in on the fun of tearing things apart. They were on a full plate already with some of his squadmates having gotten smacked up pretty good down below— his habits both on and off the ground wouldn't be winning him many favors this time.

He set the polymer dome face down in his seat, and rose with a groan below the breath. Once he'd settled down on the egress from Gelcastre, most of his ideas on the technical front had faded on their own anyway— he felt like seven shades of shit had been beat out of him. Like some poor sap who'd asked Damon Flores to give them the unvarnished offensive line experience at a Vikings meet and greet or some shit. Shoulder checked right in the ribs by some 380 pound behemoth as somebody that was sized normally enough to fit in the cockpit of a sleek black variable MAS— yeah, that felt pretty accurate.

Nevertheless, practiced ease took over as he grabbed the disembark cable and rode the line down its shortened descent. On-site medical wasn't terribly far, and he had his tricks to smooth-talk his way out of a benching if they didn't like what they saw. Going by feel? He could manage if he got some meds and rack time in. Given that Sab was already choosing to rile up Hex even though she'd been summarily grounded...

He allowed a small shrug. One that didn't ache too bad, which was another good sign.

The odds were roughly fifty-fifty. Worst case scenario was he'd owe Vulture for double dipping into his case of Rip-Its to push right through their ten-hour. Like many things, he'd been through and done worse in the same breath. Still, with the cammy nets already up and no heart left for mechanical grease...

"My suit fuckin' stinks. I'm hitting the creek." Roy muttered, calm as ever but a damned sight less debonair than he'd been topside. His eyes, icy blue, flickered between the three pilots present— Rhino's immediate departure for the spray-dried nectar of the Union's Olympians about as surprising as sunrise. Between the banter, he'd caught something he'd been too wrapped up in his jousting above the clouds to catch as it'd occurred, and blue finally settled on violet, catching Leah's eye when he could. She seemed more or less fine, despite the trouble the Blackout seemed to have gotten itself into, so with that already answered: "So one sortie later Braide's the one savin' people?"

A brow rose. An affable, wry smile crept across the corners of his mouth. He snickered, which of course hurt. Everything had its price around here.

"My young son, my baby boy, he learns so fast. For real though, how'd he handle himself this time? Need any chaperoning?"

Finally, some amount of relative safety. As much as there could be during a planetary invasion, at least. Sagan sighed in relief as the squad reached the FOB at last, finally able to relax. He let the rest of his people head out first, reaching inside of his cockpit to pull out his last Rip-Gel. The caffeinated energy gel for at least long enough to get out of his cockpit and start coordinating logistics with the support staff.

An hour later and throroughly exhausted from pulling double duty after a battle to sort out the 7th's noncombat-related organization moving forward, Sagan stepped out of the command tent and made for the quickly set up barracks, intent on catching as much shut-eye as possible before they were slated to deploy again. Unfortunately, his dream of adequate, healthy sleep would be completely derailed by the soldier in his way that he was obligated to check up on, if only for propriety's sake, if nothing else.

"Rook." He grunted towards Braide, nodding. "First real engagement, huh? How're we holding up?" He fished in his pockets, offering the rookie another caffeinated gel. "Considering it's too late to pull out now, I'd give you the same advice I'd say regarding the Rip-Gel: save it for when you need it. Without a chaplain, I'm here if you need someone to talk to. Need your shit squared away as much as possible before combat again, kid. Don't be afraid to use the resources available to you, myself especially. So I'll ask again: how're we feeling?"

@TaintedMushroom

---

"Ah, just another Capitalist vunder-veapon," Sabine retorted with a languid stretch, emphasizing the 'v'. "I'm sure I'll get cored by one sooner or later, but until then- or until I get court martialed-" with a vault and a leap onto Leah's shoulders, "You're stuck with me!" Sabine beamed, unabashed and shameless. As Leah had feared, Sabine's ego seemed to only grow bigger with every near death experience.

"To the falls!" She cackled, her french lilt coming in full, kicking at Leah's shoulders as she pointed the way. "By the way, how come the FNG gets an apology for your space aids but not me? Hm? Hm?" Sab demanded as the impromptu group made their way to the falls. The waterfall in question was not a grand thing, about three meters wide at the top, pouring water down into the connecting creek with less of a roar and more of a dull, constant patter. It formed a small pool at its base, and the walls of the cove provided some- if not total privacy. What few staff members were present made way for the pilots.

---

---

First of the bathers to return to the barracks tent, but apparently not the first to the tent itself, Sabine huffed as she found an open bunk, toweling her hair with one hand as she tossed a go bag of assorted, randomly put together gear onto her bunk. Sagan was already there, grilling the FNG. She understood the sentiment- the need to make sure the kid was ready to go. After all, the last thing they needed was the FNG breaking in the middle of a fight. The 7th were short staffed as it is, they needed everyone in working order. But there were always things you couldn't force.

"Ah give him a break boss," Sabine waved semi-dismissively, "Today wasn't even that bad, he just needs a few winks of sleep and he'll be right as rain. Probably. 'Sides boss, you look like you could use a few winks yourself."

Sabine grinned like a little gremlin as she fished a pack of cards out of her bag. "Or we could go swindle the support staff out of their ciggies and Rip-Gel."

---

"Taking this pot with me, see if the others want a cup or if I am getting lucky this time."

Johann strolled out of the mess tent with several empty mugs, one full one he was drinking from, and a full pot of reasonably fresh coffee. At this point it was purely a comfort thing, something to relax him after a mission, the caffeine did nothing at all to help wake him up given how much he went through on a regular basis. Still, it was leaps and bounds better then that Rip-Gel the others went for on longer missions. Sure, he had to use the crap every now and again, but that didn't mean he liked it. He kept his rationed packs in the Secutor, and routinely caught naps and hours whenever he could instead to put off using the stuff. As he was heading back towards their barracks tent, he turned his train of thought to how everyone was faring, as far as both pilot and MAS was concerned.

As far as the pilots were doing, he had to tangle with the fact the other pilots had strained themselves a lot harder than he had, the situation had favored being able to just march forward and let the enemies wear themselves out on his defenses a lot more than it had the others. Commie was always pushing himself in that prototype frame, reminded him of some of the configurations light frames back at the Proving Grounds had fielded. Granted, those instances were not in live combat exercises, so it was a far cry from the years shaved off the life span from stress. Rabbit had taken a nasty hit, though her frame was slightly better at taking hits than the prototype light was. Slightly, since he was reminded those two had deliberately stripped armor, something he flat out never agreed with, no matter the edge in mobility.

Hex also took a nasty hit, having comms and IFF go down was never ideal under any circumstances, but otherwise had taken the encounter reasonably well. Her frame, beyond that damage, had also gotten out reasonably undamaged otherwise. Boss was in good shape as far as he could gather, at least in terms of physical and frame condition, and other than expended munitions was probably the one closest to being able to redeploy immediately in a pinch. Overall not a terrible outcome, especially for an orbital assault, and he wasn't going to look that gift horse in the metaphorical mouth. They were a known quality to the Coalition forces at this point, something that would make further operations trickier, at least a little bit, but if they were lucky overall operations would go smoothly enough.

It was about this point that Johann reached the barracks tent, and he put on his usual confident smile as he stepped in, catching the tail end of Rabbit mentioning fleecing the support staff of their supplies gambling. A snort of amusement announced that he arrived, setting down the pot and empty mugs nearest the center of the tent, on a flat surface, as he found a bunk to sit on, taking another sip of his coffee before chiming in himself.

"Support staff knows better than to take those kinds of bets with either you or I at the table, Sabine. Brought some coffee if anyone wants to put off that Rip-Gel crap a bit longer."