Another day on the Frontier, with the murderous, morally repugnant, and rather dull IMC versus the terroristic, planet-killing, green-obsessed Militia, duking it out across the cosmos as they've always been. Now, you may be thinking, "Gee, this story is starting to sound like every other goddamned Titanfall story, this is going to be about a grunt or pilot working for the IMC going over to the Militia, right?" Well, no, because the person this story about is a mercenary already working for the Militia, now sit back and enjoy the story or whatever.
"Well, I'd reckon that's about all the men we can muster from our own ship, what's the number now?" said Janus Mandover, a rather upbeat commander working for the Militia. He was talking to one of his aides in preparation for an upcoming operation that would require quite the bit of manpower.
"We don't exactly have very many grunts with us, however. We can make up for those missing numbers with spectres, since we got loads of 'em," the aide responded. "However, we are down two pilots, and thus we're also down two titans."
"Ah, I see," Commander Mandover replied, his hand going over his chin in a contemplative manner. "I guess that means we'll have to hire some mercenaries." He turned to one of his other aides. "Go see what you can find in our contacts list; we're going to need some very experienced pilots."
"Anybody in particular, sir?" asked the aide.
"As long as they can handle a titan by themselves, that's fine by me. You're experienced enough, go see what you can dig up." With that parting statement, Mandover turned around and whipped out a notebook of his and started writing. Whether or not it was a notebook or a personal journal was anybody's guess. The aide took off towards the communications room aboard the ship.
Surprisingly—and much to the commander's delight—only one day had passed and a ship was already on its way with all they requested, their mercenary pilots obviously with them. The mercenaries involved were all very serious and very well composed, all polishing their titans and bragging about what their titan can do better than the other's. However, there was one pilot that was clumsy, and who acted as if war was a video game. His name was Reginald Mikelson, but his mercenary buddies usually called him "Husky" due to his overwhelming appreciation for the dog breed.
"Ah, well that was surprisingly quick; you really did a good job of contacting these mercs, Ava." Mandover said to the aide.
"Thank you sir, it was very easy considering they seem to be a company of mercs," Ava responded. "When I was talking to them, they asked if you would like to greet their leader in person. Would you, sir?"
"I, uh, I guess?" Mandover was confused, as it was something previous mercenaries had never even thought about. They just wanted to get paid, do their job, and then leave without a second thought. This was a completely foreign occurrence to Mandover. "When do we meet, exactly?"
"They didn't exactly request a specific time; would you like me to request them now, sir?" Ava said.
"Yeah, sure, that'll work." The commander said, which prompted the aide to set up a gathering time for both of them to meet. "Something isn't right," Mandover mused to himself, but these musings were just him being worried when he saw the Mercenary leader peacefully sitting down with the two requested pilots standing behind him. They exchanged their greetings over a pot of coffee, which the mercenaries generously provided. Husky—who was one of the pilots—was busy gazing around in awe at titans the MCOR utilized.
"Wow, those are some pretty nice titans there!" He noted, "So we're gonna be fighting with these guys? Quite a bit of Ion types, guess I got to show off a little bit, eh commander?"
"Do what you need to do, Mikelson, just don't get us almost shot at like you did the last time," the Merc leader responded.
"Wait, hold on just a second, what do you mean by what he did 'the last time?'" Mandover asked.
"Simply put, he was too caught up with looking around the ship the last company we worked for owned and ended up launching a couple of their own titans into the vacuum of space. He's a bit of an oddball, y'know." The leader then added, "But, it'd be stupid to say that he's not one of the best, more lethal pilots under my wing. He really loves his job." As he said this, a couple of non-combative MCOR personnel had to shoo Husky away from a highly flammable ammo rack of a Scorch's thermite launcher, after they noticed him pick up one of the canisters and attempted to throw it around in his hands like a ball.
"Oh, well uh, that's fine as long as he sticks to the mission and doesn't shoot any of our men. You got the mission details, correct?" the MCOR commander asked the Merc leader, to which he responded with a nod of the head. "Alright, so we'll start soon. We're going to need the mercenaries we requested to move their gear onto our ship, where are they anyways?"
"Well, they WERE both right here behind me, but now there's only one of them. Who knows where Husky went?" The Mercenary leader said. At that moment, the hangar intercom turned on.
"Hey, uh, is this thing on?" the voice said. The mercenary leader rolled his eyes and put his palm over his face.
"Johnathan, go get Mikelson for me, will you?" Johnathan nodded, and then dashed away. "I'm so terribly sorry about this, he's usually not this interested in other ships, must be the titans."
When Johnathan discovered the whereabouts of Husky, there were a few MCOR pilots trying to pry him away from the intercom. Johnathan, being the very good friend he is, decides to just knock out Husky instead, and while the MCOR pilots at first were shocked at this, they were then relieved when he explained why he did it. He then dragged Husky's limp body back to the leader.
"Here he is, boss, anything else?" he asked, to which he got two mixed answers from both commanders. From Mandover, he got a very confused and shocked look, however from the leader he got a look of indifference. "A'ight, I'll just leave 'em here then." With that statement, Johnathan gently let down Husky's body on a nearby bench.
Thus, all the equipment from both pilots were transferred from the mercenary ship onto the MCS Spearhead. IO-1825—the official designation of Husky's Ion titan—and FJ-3387—Johnathan's Scorch titan were transferred also. The two ships bid their farewells and parted ways, with the MCOR going to their mission. Husky and Johnathan were then showed to their temporary quarters, where all their pilot gear and other necessary items were stored. Of course, since Husky was still knocked out, Johnathan carried him all the way and placed him in one of the two beds, where he then slowly woke up.
"Augh, that hurt." He said, feeling the back of his head. "Hey, Johnathan, what the hell was that for? Also, where the hell are we?"
"Ah, Husky, great to see you're awake. I had to knock you out to keep you from creeping out the MCOR folks." Johnathan responded, "Anyways, we're in our temporary quarters, I put your gear in the locker at the foot of your bed."
"Alright, thanks for that, guess I'll check my gear before going out there on the field." Husky said.
He got up from his bed and walked over to his locker, checking his equipment. He picked up his checkmate red armor and inspected it for any repairable defects, same with his weaponry: an R201 rifle, an SMR, and his trusty RE45.
"You know, I'll never understand why you carry around that SMR instead of a more suited anti-titan weapon like an Archer." Johnathan said, peering over his shoulder and checking to see if his Spitfire still functioned well.
"Because when I pair this bad boy with that amped wall you carry around, it's pretty much titan-be-gone," Husky replied, "Plus it's good for killing pilots too. I mean, have you seen a pilot try to survive a few micro-missiles? 'Cause I haven't." He then turned over to his grappling hook.
"By the way, Husky," Johnathan asked, "Why exactly do you get struck with awe whenever we come onto another ship? It's almost exactly the same reaction you get as when you see a husky on your home planet of Frost."
"Well, John, believe or not, but I actually have a mechanical degree from a college there. I'm so into machinery that I get carried away when I arrive on a relatively new ship, which is why I press every button I see." Husky replied.
"I mean, I know that, and I mean no offense, but just how exactly did you get that degree if you act like…like THIS all the time?" Johnathan asked, "Seriously, what is going on with you that makes you this hyperactive?"
"Well, I also get hyperactive when I'm nervous, I've noted that when I'd be about to go on a roller coaster for the first time I'd get very talkative and try to make a few jokes." Husky said, "And to be frank, if there's one thing I am right now, it's nervous. I'm nervous because…"
"Because…?" Johnathan eagerly listened for an answer.
"I'm nervous because I'm afraid I left something back on our ship, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Can you help me take inventory?" Husky asked, looking hopefully at his companion. Johnathan, upon hearing this, stumbled over from sheer shock. "Relax, I'm partially joking with that. I'm actually nervous because we've never been to this part of the frontier before, and all this unknown land could possibly kill us."
"Well, alright Husky, it's great to see you're finally starting to take this seriously." Johnathan recovered and wiped his angry expression off his face. "Do you need help with that inventory though? I'll help you if you help me, same as it's always been."
"Yeah man, I'll gladly help, then after this we can get some chow from the mess hall here, 'cause I'm hungry and I've heard the militia feeds its people rather well." Husky said.
They finished up their checklists and went out the door of their temporary abode to find the mess hall, which one of the friendly MCOR pilots guided them to after the duo completely lost their way aboard the ship. It should be noted they weren't the best at navigation. The MCS Spearhead then hurtled through space towards its target destination, where it will meet up with other MCOR ships and deploy their forces onto an IMC base located on a foreign planet known as Zephyr.