Angel city. More like the city of fallen angels. This city was said to the battleground for the apocalypse. Rumor has it that the hysteria even made the governing power believe. It is also said that in times of crisis, the city protects itself by emitting a barrier that oddly smells of mint to ward away any evil spirits. Whatever saved them back then, I hope it's with us now.
"Dominique! Dominique! Are you with us?" Commanding Officer O'Nata asks, her hazel colored eyes searching for a answer, boring into his soul. Her auburn hair pulled back shimmering under the visor in her helmet. She almost looks innocent in appearance, if not for her reputation as one of the Harbingers.
"Yes Ma'am!" he bleats unconsciously, dissipating the mere thought of daydreaming.
"IMC forces are approaching! We're dead even in this sector. I have faith you all will chalk another win. You can do it guys", a strict but light voice from HQ says.
"Affirmative! A team you're with me. We take the eastern end. B team West end. Grunts up the middle! Full assault. Head on a swivel. We don't know what the enemy has planned but they sure as hell picked the wrong squad to tango with". "You heard the woman Delta Squad move move move MOVE!", the team leader screams.
Boots light enough they feel barefoot. The flak jackets and support gear laugh mockingly with every step. The chatter is drowned out by the propulsion of jet packs. They move as instructed, graceful as gazelles, almost acrobatic like. The quick switch of the cloak and they're ghosts, haunting and hunting their prey. A closed fist is raised like a rebel beacon of hope and there's silence. No movement but of the enemies uneasiness like a hatchling left to nature's cruelty.
Two gestures with one goal. Divide and conquer. Dominique's assigned to B team along with two other pilots. 6 man squads are the most effective against Opposition. Back then wars were fought with thousands of soldiers. Now they have help .
"It's your first day right, grunt?", asks one of the pilots in the team obviously seasoned with the expected prepubescent lack of respect. He gives off such an intensity an adult bear would submit under his gaze alone. His brow increasing in stress lines, veins protruding from his neck. Hair as white to show not just age but a battle-hardened warrior ready to do what must be done with no hesitation. "Yeah" is all Dominique seems to muster. "Cut it out Hamilton. Go easy on the guy", a kind voice acknowledges the third member of the team.
A young woman who looks Augustine's age with short dark hair. She has the same innocence as O'Nata yet hers seems to display what one could assume is either her greatest weakness or strength: to appear vulnerable.
"Abbie. Abbie Waller".
"Augustine. Augustine Dominique"
"If you two are finished getting cozy we gotta mission to complete", Hamilton snarls. "Aye!", Waller and Dominique confirm in unison.
The air feels nice, enveloping around the bare area under Augustine's helmet. It even tastes nice. Minty even. The sun's reflection off the window panels are calming.. As if one could bathe in its blinding embers. A little too blinding.
BIiiiiiiiiizzzzznnttttt!
Augustine's vision distorts, while a strong arm steadies him by securing him around his chest. "Got him. Any sign of the enemy?" the worry is apparent in Hamilton's voice.
Its distant.
"Negative Squad Leader", Waller reports. "Eyes peeled! I got your six".
"Roger."
"Enemy pilot in the vicinity, on the move! She's cloaked! I repeat she's cloaked!" a grunt leader is in the thick of it.
"Alphonse street Yellow banner we in need of back-". Augustine's sight returns to the grim look of Waller. The look in Hamilton's eyes is one of comfort. "Dominique, you able?", says Hamilton eyes straightforward not looking in Augustine's direction. He nods. They head as fast as we can towards the grunts last location.
At the apartment they arrive to the aftermath. Grunts mortally wounded and even more dead. All those soldiers wont be seeing their families again. Forever ripped from their loving embrace by this she demon. By this war. There's a trail of blood leading to the next room where a groan is emitted. The grunt leader is propped up against a now crimson stained bottom kitchen counter. His left leg broken in a manner defying nature and bleeding profusely holding back what looks to be his intestines from the remaining unexposed portion of his abdominal region.
"We-", he utters. "Go on", Hamilton hangs on to his every word. "We didn't stand a chance. We found a enemy grunt unit and engaged them. She-" after violently coughing blood he continues. "she came outta nowhere. You have to get out of here she-". His right eye burrows through his skull as it seeks refuge in the wall behind him.
THAP- THAP!
Footsteps scurrying upstairs. "Waller!" "10-4!" Waller and Hamilton jump to the second level to see their assailant escaping out the window. They're in pursuit with Augustine right behind them.
As they give chase, while wall running she grabs hold of a pole, using it's momentum to launch herself not further away, but right towards them. Hamilton and Waller throw a punch and a low sweep. She blocks Hamilton's punch and soars above Waller's sweep to push off her chest speeding past Augustine. They make eye contact briefly. For that split second, Augustine didn't see an enemy. Someone who's viewed as a wild animal to be disposed of when it's deemed rabid. Dominique saw a person. Another human being. She faded away as quickly as she appeared. The soft crackle of her cloak wiped away her existence. A ghost.
"Dominique!"
Three enemies were gaining on Hamilton and Waller. CAK-CAK-CAK-CAK-CAK! Shotgun bullets whizzing past Hamilton and Waller's heads. Three shots from Hamilton's smart pistol took out two opposing members. Waller disabled the third and sent them plummeting to the barren streets below. They regrouped with a roaming spectre unit to assess the battlefield. "Casualties on both sides but we're winning. It looks in our fav-"
DOOM!DOOM!DOOM!
The ground shakes as if an earthquake erupted. "Move, Move, MOVE!", "WALLER CALL IT!" Two beeps are barely audible over the monstrous power of explosions. They're running as fast as they can away from the madness. "FU-!" A missile collides into the nearby building Augustine's about to run on. He shields himself as he's uncontrollably thrown into the wreckage. The heat from the blast is so intense it starts to melt his mask. A hard landing greets him from the infrastructure as he lands, spiraling onto his feet. Rolling is the natural defense of parkour after all.
Keep running is all he can tell himself. Jumping through a nearby adjacent building's window, he dives behind a sofa. As minutes go by, he tries to contact his team. No response. "-fall" is heard on the headset. To get a better view of the battlefield he ascends to the roof. There's several falling stars, rushing to the ground at an alarming rate. The impact is so deafening his equilibrium's thrown off.
After gaining his composure, what he sees is unspeakable. Neighboring units getting butchered, utterly slaughtered under the IMCs might. Disparity, unrepentant bargaining, and screams are the paint to this unholy canvas. The smell of blood and motor oil burn in his nostrils. A pilot was shot in the back by an evading enemy pilot. An entire spectre team reprogrammed by the IMC shot fellow comrades who sought aid from them. There a unit was fighting and the next second a mass of red mist.
There, in their absence, spans a crater two cars wide. Through the smoke he sees it. A Ogre model Titan. Large arms invoking dominance and fear to all who survey. Bigger exterior for bigger punishment. Speed sacrificed for power. The ultimate wager in any battle.
"Don't just stand there Dominique move!"
What?
"Get out of there now Dominique! Get cover!"
Hu-
Before he can finish his thought, Twin shadows dart across the building followed by an earth shattering punch to the Ogre. It's sent reeling. Two Stryder model Titans present themselves welcomingly. Designed for speed more than brute strength. The yin to the Ogre's yang.
"Dominique, don't get cold feet! Call your titan!"
a familiar feminine voice makes Dominique's ears perk. In the first Stryder is Waller. The rear presumably is Hamilton. Beep!
"Standby-" Augustine is grabbed by Hamilton's titan as the AI voice is muffled by a rocket salvo from the Ogre. He dashes back a safe distance before setting him down. "Don't let her down", he warns. Hamilton and Waller engage the enemy titan. It's maddening to keep up with the titans speed. Dominique's headset activates- Update: Commander O'Nata's forces are pummeling the IMC in their zone. Before a wave of relief can hit him, the building he's in is deracinated. A Atlas titan eyeing greedily for signs of resistance.
Natural panic starts to set in. No cover I'm exposed! He mounts and tape the trigger of the Sidewinder, placing it directly in the line of fire, under the guise of the smoke. Becoming ethereal, he spurts up to the distracted Titan. It's almost incapacitated. Wires exposed near the neck, whatever former casing the left arm is no longer supported, complex circuitry noticeable to the right leg, a hesitant motion in the firing hand. No pilot in the cockpit. Inherently searching the room there's no signs of a combatant. At least if he would've double-checked the cockpit.
SCAW! SCAW! SCAW! from a smart pistol not his own. A loud thud confirms his grounded descent. The burning sensation is excruciatingly present. Two in the shoulder and a graze wound by his solar plexus. So much pain. So much blood. At least I wont suffer long, he confides. With an instantaneous spring, the pilot is revealed. The woman from earlier. Guess she was sizing him up before. Hair concealing her face she draws her gun as her titan mimics. Dominique can't bare to look. Here it comes. I didn't even make it past post graduating day. What a joke, he laments. A few seconds past as he awakes to find not his maker or his victor. His titan is occupying the space where she once was, hand extended out.