You are saying Impudence to me

by Deadborder

Sequel to Operation Jungle Drums. A coalition of mercenaries launch a strike at the Word of Blake's holdings. However, they have a secret weapon, one their enemies have no defence against - and that weapon is Impudence.

BF? We have a problem.

Monty has been captured by the Word. We don't know if he was caught up in a wider sweep or if he was specifically targeted. What we do know is that he was taken by the Word to RMBU 7070 on Asta.

Before he was caught, Monty said he was onto something big. Combined with the risk of the Word getting what he knows out of him or, even worse, turning him, we have to do something about him. He needs to be extracted or, if all else fails, eliminated before he can be a threat.

Agent Ray is on-world, but has no access to the camp. I don't want to risk striking the camp directly, however. If something goes bad, then the Word may take action against him, or move him to a more secure location. I do not want to risk losing him.

According to our intel, Asta is home to a single Protectorate Militia division that are spread out to cover the numerous re-education camps across the planet, as well as other assets. There are also two mercenary units on-planet at the moment, the Blackguards and the Bloody Star. They've been raiding nearby worlds, and seem to have rotated back for rest and refit. However, we have to assume that, in the advent of an attack, they'd aid the PM forces. This complicates matters.

I'm looking for ideas, and I need them fast.

JSE

I concur with your assessment, JSE. I think we need to get Monty out, and fast.

I have an idea. We put together a two-fold package; one part, a mercenary force, would engage in a high-profile attack on planet, and lure the defending forces out. Then, once they are committed, a second, smaller group could execute a surgical strike on RMBU 7070 and extract Monty.

The problem here is finding the strengths to do such. An attack on the scale needed to draw out not only the PM but both mercenary commands would require a considerable amount of our assets, and will take time to organise that I feel that we cannot afford. And even then, we run the risk of losing those mercenary assets, especially if all three units bear down at once.

To make matters worse, our number one asset for such a targeted extraction is, at present, otherwise occupied. No, I can't say where or with what. It's not like he would tell anyway.

I'm going to pass this along to look at the mercenary assets we have and see what we can use.

BF

Fortune has smiled upon us, my friends.

The presence of the Blackguards amongst the defending forces has lent us the weapon we need to defeat our enemies. And I have just the unit that can exploit this for all that it is worth.

TW

Firebase Zebra, Lake George District

Asta

Word of Blake Protectorate

3 February 3075

Danae Weiss stood tensed, poised to strike, every muscle in her body ready to unleash in a controlled fury of strength and skill. In her hands, she held a massive two-handed sword, a weapon that she had personally forged. She struck out, moving with speed and grace that belied her muscular frame; stepping through a series of well-practiced moves.

Focus. Control. Discipline. There were no mistakes, no random, irrational moves. Every strike, every slash, every blow was practiced and precise. Her mind was focused on the task at hand, allowing for no distractions. Order. She controlled her weapon as if it was an extension of her own body; by exerting her will over it, she ensured perfection.

There was one time that control had eluded her, nearly eight years ago now. She had not forgotten what had happened on that day, nor would she ever forgive those responsible. She had vowed to destroy them on that day, and remained determined to do such now. She had made a mistake, and paid the price, it would not happen again.

Finishing, she sheathed the blade over her back. Her routine sword drills were a vital part of controlling her unit, her Blackguards. By practicing, she kept herself focused and disciplined. By doing that, she made sure that she was ready to deal with any obstacle, any challenge, as if she could simply bend the universe to her will.

All that is will be bought to order. The Word sees this, as do I. Thus I serve them willingly.

Malakai DeSlowe, her executive officer, was waiting by the door. The two could not have looked more different; she was heavily built and muscular, with short-cropped white hair. He, on the other hand, was rail thin to the point of being emaciated, with long, limp black hair.

"I have the report you requested." He began as she approached, towelling herself off. "Our current strengths, down to the last infantryman. Everything present and accounted for."

"Excellent." She took his digital reader from him, briefly glancing over it. "As usual, your work is exhaustive. I will review it in full later; I do have other matters to deal with at present."

Five minutes later, she was cleaned up and in her dress uniform, striding through the main hall of the Firebase her unit was currently sharing with other forces. The very presence of those forces, however, was one of her concerns. "What are your immediate assessments, Malakai?" She asked as she walked, her executive beside him.

"Assuming no major changes to our supply situation and regular updates from our employers, we will be able to maintain our current strength indefinitely." He stated flatly. "Of course, that still leaves us short on both men and Mechs. As yet, I have not been able to procure replacements for either."

"And the Word has ordered us to remain here until further notice." She observed. "Ogel has given no indication to a redeployment."

"Indeed."

"Which presents certain other issues." She noted. "While we do not risk combat losses, there are other issues that need to be dealt with."

Across the room, another two members were talking; much like Danae and Malakai, they were rather stark in the contrast between the pair of them. The first was slender and athletic, with classically handsome features dominated by long brown hair. Rather then a uniform like Danae (or a funeral director's suit like Malakai) he was dressed in camouflage fatigues. "Hey Torch?" He began. "Remember that time, with that guy in the place?"

"Oh yeah!" His companion grunted out. Taller than his partner, he had a shaved head, heavy features and a face that comprised mainly of scars, stubble and a broken nose. He was dressed in a tattered mish-mash of parts from different uniforms that sported numerous insignia. "I remembers that, Rand. There was that guy, and he was in the place."

"And the boss said he was really dangerous, and we were to keep an eye on him, so we did." Rand continued.

"And we dunked him in the sewerage, cos it was fun" Torch laughed as he recalled.

"And then we let him go, because he was such a nice person." Rand finished.

"Oooh yeah, he was good he was." Torch agreed. "Youse is a good person, Rand. You know what's up."

"They say I'm gifted." Rand offered. "My teacher said I was special."

"Torch." Danae cut him off as she loomed over the pair of them.

"One sec, Rand. Boss wants a word." He stretched out, lazily standing, before snapping off an exceptionally sharp salute. "What do you need, Major?" His tone was crisp and clear, lacking the casual, thuggish tone he had employed moments before.

"Walk with me, Torch." She continued. The three of them set off across the room, Danae clearly watching her men as they went. "What level of threat is there to our unit, Torch? Be frank with me."

He shook his head. "Both Captain Silmaris and Captain Halfrunt have been compromised." He stated. "While they remain a part of this unit, I would say that their beliefs put them more in the other camp. Both of them attend regular meetings, and have risen to positions of rank within their organisation. Being blunt, they are true believers, and, if the opportunity presented it, would abandon us for them."

"Can we trust them on the battlefield?"

"Difficult." Torch continued. "I would say that they are still loyal to you; however, if forced to make a decision, then I would not rely on them. I say we can trust them for as long as that decision does not present itself."

"And yet I need experienced officers. They have been with me for so long, and yet they now pose a risk to us. Difficult." She shook her head. "And their commands?"

"The Horde of Timmies are definitely compromised." Torch continued. "Boh's own platoon are going to be fully under their sway. As for Silmaris' Bravo Company..." He paused. "There are several defiantly compromised members. I'd say that Randall Thor is the only one we can fully trust, and that is simply because he's too stupid to question his own loyalties."

"Understandable." Danae agreed. "But Raleigh is clear?"

"Correct. His loyalty to you goes well beyond simple respect for a commanding officer." Torch stated. "And this is reflected in his command. Overall, I would say that the risk is largely confined to those two specific companies. With some reshuffling, I think we can further isolate those who are comprised."

"Excellent. Draft your recommendations, and hand them to DeSlowe."

"Very well then." Torch glanced at his compatriot. "More work for you then."

"If it keeps the unit running, then it is not an issue." Malakai replied, impassively as he entered data into a noteputer.

"Are there other members of the unit that are a risk?" She inquired. "Any in particular that they may have sunk their teeth into?"

"Just one." Torch indicated across the room, where one of Danae's mechwarriors was talking with a young woman. "But in Baxter's case, I'm not sure if it's interest in their beliefs, or simply an interest in her."

Danae studied her; thin, she had scruffy black hair, and was dressed in a plain black jumpsuit. The only decoration was an insignia; an orange eye on a seven pointed black star.

The Bloody Star. She observed. Our obstinate allies, and possibly one of our greatest enemies. She turned back to Torch. "We need to find a way to separate our units. I do not want them to have any influence over my men. Any further attempts at subversion must be dealt with by any means necessary." She eyed Torch. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly." He replied with an almost gleeful grin.

As the leader of the Bloody Star, Stan was entitled, even in such temporary accommodations to a small office of his own from which he could manage his unit. When the Word had not allowed for extra space due to his religious role, he simply used his office for such duties as well. After all, for the most part, his followers were members of his unit; thus, any duties he performed in here would be, for the most part, a part of managing his unit.

However, today, the two in his office were not a part of his unit and, as such, were here obstinately for purely religious reasons.

"My Brothers." Stan began as he turned to face them. Tall and imposing, Stan's features were dominated by the black tattoo pattern that covered his entire body, breaking it up into a jagged, irregular mixture of black and skin. "I called you here for a very, very important reason."

Boh Halfrunt and Silmaris both nodded. The two were an interesting contrast; Boh was short and somewhat rotund, with pugilistic features; he dressed in a long coat and field fatigues, topped off with a garish medallion. Silmaris, on the other hand, was tall and slender; his shaved head and numerous tattoos and piercings were distinctive enough, however, his taste for leather pants, open-front jackets and no shirt made him even more so. Boh sat in one chair, closely watching Stan; Silmaris chose to languidly lounge across his.

"Both of you came to me as outsiders, and yet, you have shown yourselves to be amongst my most dedicated followers." Stan continued. "You have shown a devotion to your faith and to your dark lord that is exemplary; this faith has seen you rise to the level of priests within our dark brotherhood, an accomplishment unheard of for any outsiders. Only one before you has risen to such ranks, and you have done such in a fraction of the time it took him."

Boh nodded. "You have shown us the true path, Stan." He offered. "Before we met you, we were just a pair of thugs who engaged in wanton destruction. Now your hand, and the hand of our dark lord, guides us to deliberate, purposeful wanton destruction. You have given us a reason for being, one that involves blowing things up."

"True enough." Silmaris replied, a lot less enthusiasm in his voice then Boh had shown. "And we do like wanton destruction."

Stan nodded and smiled. "And that is why, my brothers, I share this revelation with you." He began. "Last night, our Dark Lord revealed to me a sign, a portent the coming days."

He walked over to the pair of them, looking down as if surveying them from on high. "The end times are upon us, my brothers. The sign revealed to me showed that already, the enemies of our Dark Lord are in motion, consuming all before them. The sacred homeland form which we, the Bloody Star was born, has been destroyed."

Boh nodded. "That was in the prophecy." He paused. "It is a sign, a call to the faithful. A symbol of the approaching end."

"All this is true. The prophecy speaks to you, my brother. And that is why I must ask a great sacrifice from you both."

"Sacrifice?" Silmaris looked up, a sudden flicker of doubt on his face. Stan could understand why; it was Boh who had embraced the Bloody Star; Silmaris had come with him, the two sharing a close relationship. However, Silmaris' faith was not as deep as Boh's; in many ways, he was still a novice in the mysteries of the Bloody Star. However, Stan had rewarded him with rank; now was the time to exploit that reward. "What sort of sacrifice?"

"To survive the coming days, we will need to expand our numbers. Here, in our enclave on Asta, there are many followers. However, there is one amongst us who serves as an obstacle more than anything else. They do not follow the way of the Bloody Star, and instead remain opposed to it."

"They are an enemy to all of us." Boh hissed. "Any who would stand in our way is ac peril to our survival. We must bring about the end of the world so that we may rule in what is to come after!"

"So very true, Brother Halfrunt. Which is why I ask this of you." He looked over the pair of them. "For the sake of all that is to come, Major Weiss must die. Not now, not tomorrow, but when the time is right. For when she falls, we will grow infinitely stronger from her defeat." He looked over them. "And when that happens, the time will be right for our ascendancy. The Bloody Star will rise, my brothers."

It was after Boh and Silmaris had left that Stan had called together a conclave of the true believers; the officers of his unit that had been born on Martin Place, those who had travelled with him on the long road to the Inner Sphere. As Outsiders, Boh and Silmaris were not welcome here. Nor was the commander of one of his mech companies, Mark Hammimmill.

The original leader of the mercenary unit that had stumbled into Martin Place, the then Mark Hammale had been quick to convert to Stan's ways. He had in essence turned his men, his mechs and his ships over to Stan, allowing him to rise to power that no other on his homeworld could dream of. He owed Hammammimil so much, yet, for all that, the man was still an outsider for one reason. He had not been born into the Bloody Star.

"My brothers." Stan began as he looked over them. "Our Dark Lord has imparted wondrous news to us." Well, it was actually the Word of Blake ROM, but that was close enough for Stan's purposes. "A fantastic event has occurred."

"Martin Place is lost to us. It has been destroyed by the hand of the great enemy, who have defiled its presence. Temple prime was crushed by them, our brothers slaughtered at their hands."

There was a collective pause from the assembled priests, before, finally, one of them spoke up. "Does this mean..." Skywitch Sanders, one of the women spoke up, "Could it be?"

"Is is, yes." Stan replied, the enthusiasm bubbling over. "Great news, everyone! The end times are upon us! The hour of our ascension draws ever-closer!"

There was a round of cheers from the assembled priests. Stan let them celebrate for a moment before he continued. "However, my brothers, there is still much to do before we can take our rightful place as rulers of the cosmos reborn."

He nodded to them. "For now, this information stays with us; while our faithful servants have laboured hard to reach this point, there is still much ahead of us. We can ill-afford for them to become too excited and lose focus. When the time is right, then I will reveal the truth to the world."

"Go now. Make sure that your men and machines are ready for battle. There are trying times ahead of us, my brethren; we must prepare for the trials ahead of us. For, in the end, only the worthy will become the masters of the reborn universe."

And I will rule over all.

Despite the order to remain quiet about the momentous news, Priest Neil Singer, commander of the Ribald Sea Creatures, couldn't help but be cheerful. He had worked towards this goal all his life. He had been born into the Bloody Star, and faithfully followed their Dark Master and Stan, his Chosen Servant for as long as he was able to. His parents had been members of the Bloody Star, and their parents before him. Generations of his family had toiled for this moment, and now it was upon them.

He knew that, as one of Stan's Priests, he would be a ruler in the next world; he would be seated at the hand of Stan, lording over all creation. The thrill of it was incredible, and the anticipation of what was about to happen was almost impossible to control.

However, he also knew Stan's Orders, and knew what he had to do. He'd gone to check on his unit, and make sure its men and vehicles were all in top fighting condition.

Striding into the hangar, he was taken aback at the sight of his Fulcrum hovertank. The hovercraft's side was opened up, with numerous panels removed. Components and machinery were spread around the tank, with a lone technician currently half-inside the machine, seemingly talking to himself as he further violated it with his filthy, under-trained hands.

He was furious. Striding over to the technician, he planted a heavy hand on the man's shoulders. "What in the name of our dark lord below are you doing, you malformed, insipid, ill-bread miscreant!"

The man slowly pulled his head out of the tank and turned around. He had a friendly face that was crowned by what seemed to be a painfully obvious (and completely inappropriate and potentially dangerous, given his line of work) toupee. "Well, Lord Stan told us to check the tanks to make sure they're all working right." He began, a painfully honest tone in his voice. "So I'm making sure your tank is working right."

Neil rankled at this sudden application of logic and reason. "Well make sure you bloody well put everything back in the right place, you filthy wig-wearing primate."

"Sure thing, your priestness." He earnestly replied.

"Good." Neil turned and stormed off, muttering to himself. Behind him, the technician smiled.

Jumpship Red Star Rising, Pirate Jump Point

Asta System

Word of Blake Protectorate

5 February 3075

Compared to some jumpships she'd been on, the Red Star Rising had a rather large briefing room. This was something that suited Reven fine, given the number of people she was expecting to be there. With two Jumpships, each carrying a battalion of mechs and another battalion of supporting forces, there were a lot of people who claimed to be important to go around.

"So what do you think, Boss?" Z-One asked as the pair of them strode towards the meeting room.

"Normally, I hate these sorts of combined operations. And I really don't like seconding my authority to some other commander."

"Except..."

She grinned back at him. "Except this time round, the objective is completely worth it."

"I knew you'd day that." He stated. "What is it, your ego again?"

"Probably." She admitted. "But this will be so very, very fun."

She stepped into the room, taking in those already present as she did. Ivan Konstantinov, the overall leader of the combined force, dominated the room. Tall and imposing, his sharp features and steely eyes gave him a stern and imposing look; an image reinforced by his crisp, pressed uniform. Although in his early fifties, he gave off an aura of command and presence, one that even Reven could almost respect.

"Colonel." She saluted as she entered.

"Captain." He replied, only a slight hint of displeasure in his voice.

Clearly he's used to late arrivals. She observed. Or he's not letting it bother him. He's good.

She looked around the room at the others assembled. Of the four of them, three of them wore the same uniform as Konstantinov; she knew they were all from the Red Star Guards, the unit that was the largest in this operation and, as such, would be leading it. The fourth stood out both for his appearance and demeanour.

As tall as Konstantinov, he was slim and long-limbed, with dark skin, thick hair and a prominent moustache. His uniform was a completely different design to the others, being much brighter and cut more casually. However, at the same time, he wore it with a determined pride. Up close, however, Reven could notice more about the man. He seemed weary, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

Eddie L. Johnson. She recognised him from the briefings. He's the leader of the Wild Funky Dogs. He looks so... tired. Reven tried not to look at him, instead turning back to the briefing table. I can't say I blame him. The Wild Funky Dogs had been all but wiped out by the Word of Blake; Johnson was trying to keep a unit with a three hundred year legacy together. It was an uphill battle, and it seemed like he was fighting every step.

"As this is the first time we have all met, I will do a brief round of introductions." Konstantinov spoke up. "I am colonel Ivan Konstantinov, commander of the Red Star Guards. These are my aids; infantry commander Oleg Vodnik-" He indicated to a heavyset man who had a surprisingly pleasant face. "My artillery commander, Captain Natalya Volkova" He nodded to a red-haired woman, the youngest of the four. "And my air commander, Captain Katarina Varrenikov." The last of the Red Star commanders, Varrenikov was a large woman who could be politely described as 'motherly', albeit with incredibly sharp eyes.

"I am major Eddie L. Johnson, commander of the Wild Funky Dogs." Johnson spoke up. "It's an honour to meet you all."

You're trying to put on a brave face, I can tell. Reven finally spoke up. "I'm commander Reven Dyron, leader of the Storm Riders. This is my air commander, Z-One."

"Yo."

"Now that we have been introduced, let us begun." Konstantinov didn't miss a beat. The holotable activated, bringing up a map of Asta. "The Word of Blake has begun fortifying the worlds of its protectorate, reinforcing its militias and constructing static defences. They also have a number of mercenary units in their employ; ones that, while previously given over to raiding, have since been assigned to garrison duties."

The map illuminated, highlighting a number of sites across the planet. "Asta is home to a large number of Blakeist re-education camps, which means that the protectorate militia forces on-world are scattered rather thinly. To help cover for this deficiency, they have two mercenary units on-world, the Bloody Star, and the Blackguards."

Reven couldn't help but smile at the mention of the second unit. It was why she was here.

"Our employer has given us a single task; one with several secondary objectives." He continued. "They want us to soften up the forces in the Protectorate in order to weaken their forces against a future attack."

She nodded. The Storm Riders had been 'loaned' to the coalition being built by the enigmatic Devlin Stone, along with a number of other Mercenary commands – specifically those employed by corporate or private interests. Any idiot could see that this was really about clearing the way for a full-scale invasion of the Protectorate.

"To this end, our goal is to lure out and destroy those mercenaries." Konstantinov explained. "We force them into a fight and do as much damage to them as we can. We are not here to conquer or hold territory, just to deplete their forces."

"In doing such, we aim not only to defeat the mercenaries. We force the Protectorate Militia units on-world to spread out to better protect the camps, and, as such, further diluting their forces. We also send a message to those mercenaries in the Word's employ, that they are being deliberately targeted. By doing such, we hope to encourage them to desert their posts, rather than face further attacks."

Something that they previously didn't have much of an incentive to do. Reven thought to herself. The MRBC had posted bounties on any mercenary that worked for the Word, regardless of reason. So far, this had only served to keep those units in the Word's employ, realising that they had no other choice.

"That's all well and good, but how do we encourage the mercs to fight us?" Johnson spoke up. "They ain't gonna just come on out and face us. And I ain't gonna risk my men unnecessarily."

Reven stepped forwards. "That's where I come in, gentlemen. Your incredibly talented, capable and devastating-"

"Not to mention modest" Z-One cut in.

"-secret weapon." She finished, not missing a beat. "Major Weiss, commander of the Blackguards, wants me dead. More to the point, she wants me dead by her hand." Reven grinned. "So what we're going to do is let them know we're coming."

"What?" Johnson turned to glare at her. "Are you insane? We're hidden here, and can hit the planet before they even know what's coming."

"Oh, I know that." Reven replied, dismissively. "And I'm not going to let them know what's happening until we're as close to the planet as possible. The idea is that Danae will do her nut over me, freak out, forget any hint of rationality and do everything in her power to make sure that I die. We can lure her out and fight her on our terms, not hers."

"I don't like it." Johnston muttered. "It still seems like a big risk."

"I am confident that I have her number." Reven shot back. "She's wrapped around my finger. I played her so bad eight years ago that it eats her up inside. She's going to fall for it."

"And if you're wrong?"

She smiled confidently. "I'm never wrong."

The briefing had dragged on as they planned out their strategy, their landing point and other details. Reven had been confident in her ability to make Danae Weiss do as they wanted, while Johnson had remained unconvinced throughout. It was only when Konstantinov had reminded him that he had made his unit subordinate to the Guards for this operation that he fell into line.

"What have you gotten us into this time, my friend?" Oleg Vodnik spoke up after Dyron, Z-One and Johnson had left. "You seem confident but..." He shook his head. "Crazy, that's what this is."

Konstantinov nodded. "On the surface, I must agree." He opened up a cabinet by the table, producing a large bottle of Vodka and four glasses. "However, her confidence is not just bravado. I've reviewed her record; Dyron has a habit of getting things done." Ivan poured each one of them a measure, placing the bottle on the table.

"Besides, I doubt that she would commit to this plan if she was not convinced of it herself." Natalya spoke up as she took one of the glasses. "This isn't just bluster. She's a lot smarter then she lets on."

"What do I know?" Oleg threw his hands up, then took a glass. "I am just a simple farmer boy. These games, they are not for me."

"Says the battle armour commander." Konstnatinov commented dryly. "Your skill with ambushing your opponents in your suit is pretty good."

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "When you are not in a mech, maybe you do need to bend the rules a little."

"I trust her to get it done." Varrenikov added. "Her pilot, he's clearly sharp and capable. You do not get someone like that just on good looks and charm."

"Which is why your men are so good?" Oleg offered.

She merely raised a brow. "Regardless, I think that this will work. If anyone is an issue, I would say it's Johnston. The man is looking out for his unit, but I think that he is just too protective of them."

Ivan nodded. "He turned down our buy-out offer; I suspect that his hanging onto a three hundred-year tradition is a big part of it." He shook his head. "Eto kuram na smekh. But it is our plan. And we will follow it." He took a swig form his glass. "And we will do our utmost."

Firebase Zebra, Lake George District

Asta

Word of Blake Protectorate

6 February 3075

Danae Weiss stood tensed, poised to strike, every muscle in her body ready to unleash in a controlled fury of strength and skill. In her hands, she held a massive two-handed sword, a weapon that she had personally forged. She struck out, moving with speed and grace that belied her muscular frame; stepping through a series of well-practiced moves.

Focus. Control. Discipline.

Her communicator beeped, interrupting her concentration. Angered, she picked it up. "Weiss here. This had better be important."

"It is." Malakai's voice replied. "We just detected a group of dropships inbound. They apparently came in from a pirate jump point, and used one of the planet's moons to shield themselves from detection."

"I see. Any identification?"

"None, but it is clear that they are hostile."

"Obviously." She grunted. Coming in like that, there's nothing else they could be.

"Major, there's something else."

She narrowed her eyes. "Go on."

"They have been trying to contact us." He stated. "Specifically, they want to speak to you – By name. The refuse to identify themselves otherwise."

Odd. They take the stealthiest approach possible, and then suddenly give us an early warning? What's going on?

"Very well" she finished. "I am on my way up."

Minutes later, she was in the Firebases' command centre. Mostly staffed with Protectorate Militia technicians, Malakai stood out starkly, his black suit and coat contrasting with their white jumpsuits. "Well?" She began as she walked over to him.

"Unidentified voice; heavily digitised to make identification impossible." He stated flatly. "I have them on-line now."

She picked up the communicator headset. "This is Major Danae Weiss of the Blackguards. You wished to speak to me?"

There was a moment of silence, then a crackle from the speakers. And, then, finally, a remarkable casual reply. "Oh, hi there, Danae."

She recognised the speaker immediately. She would never forget that voice, nor forgive its owner.

"Reven!" She shouted out.

"That's me!" Her former subordinate replied, cutting her off. "How's it going down there?"

"You impudent little-"

"Tut-tut." Reven cut her off. "But I must say that I'm flattered that you still think so highly of me after all these years. After all, I am the best officer you ever had."

Danae snarled to herself, then tried to catch her breath. Focus. Control. Discipline.

"And, after all, I played you so badly. Danae, of all the people I've ever done over, you were, by far and away, the easiest"

"I will kill you!" She shouted out, everyone in the room turning to stare at her.

"Think you can?" Reven asked, a contemptuous tone in her voice. "Because, if you do, we will be making planetfall in a few hours. We're aiming to land north of you, by the edge of Lake George." Danae could almost imagine the look on Reven's face. "Come and face us – if you're brave enough."

"Do not think you can hide from me, Reven." Danae shot back. "I will face you, and I will make you pay for your crimes. When I am finished, you will beg me for mercy."

"Woo, scary." Reven finished. "But I look forward to the reunion. We'll all be there – me, Z-One, Rick... but not Fletch. I had to unload him back on Outreach."

"Asta PM command has scrambled fighters to intercept." Malakai interjected.

"No!" Danae snarled at him. "This is my fight, not theirs. I will deal with her myself!"

"Of course." Malakai reluctantly replied. "I will let the Militia command know."

"Good." Danae turned back to her communicator. "Reven, come. Bring your men. Bring your allies. It does not matter. I will settle this between us, and make you pay for your crimes."

"Very well then." Reven replied, her flippant tone gone. "Let this be our final battlefield." And then it came flooding back. "Toodles!"

The channel crackeld with static, then went dead. "That impudent, self-serving witch!" Danae shouted out, throwing the headset aside. "She dares to challenge me? Very well then." She stormed past Malakai. "Tell the Militia that we will face these attackers – we do not need their assistance."

"Major, are you sure that is wise?"

"Yes, I am." She snapped. "And do not think of countermanding my order, DeSlowe. Today will see the end of one traitor. Do not think that I will hesitate to end any others."

"Of course." He replied, completely flat.

She stormed out of the room. "Assemble the Blackguards. Today, we right a great injustice that has been visited upon us."

Dropship Hammershark, Inbound

Asta System

Word of Blake Protectorate

6 February 3075

"That..." Reven began as she put down the headset. "Was awesome."

"You've been waiting for years for that, haven't you?" Rick asked. He was standing by her, watching as events unfolded. "Admit it."

"Of course." She grinned broadly, "I have been looking forward to it for soooo very, very long." Her voice oozed with self-satisfaction. "My only regret is that I didn't get to see the look on her face. She must have turned purple"

"You can be so shallow, boss."

"Probably." She shrugged. "What's important is that Danae reacted exactly as I expected."

He furrowed his brow. "And you're sure that there's no chance that she was playing along?"

"Of course not." Reven shook her head. "Danae is too honest and forthright to resort to such. Besides, I know how much she hates me. And anyway, nobody gets one past me."

"Supposedly." Rick finished, not sure what else to make of it. He'd approved the plan, but had some reservations about it. You'd have to be insane not to. Well, insane or blindly full of yourself.

"Signal the other ships, Carl Bob." Reven turned to the captain. "Tell them she took the bait."

"Aye." He replied. "By the way, Captain, we have fighters inbound from the planet."

"Awww." Reven pouted. "I was hoping that Danae would let us pass." She shrugged as she strode towards the hatch. "That's our Signal to go, Rick. Our lives are in your hands, Carl. Well, yours and Z-One's." She winked at him. "Don't let us down."

Firebase Zebra, Lake George District

Asta

Word of Blake Protectorate

6 February 3075

Stan had heard about what had happened pretty much straight away. He had long ago made sure that his eyes and ears told him exactly what was going on. That two of them were Danae's officers meant that he was never in the dark about his erstwhile comrade in arms.

He'd watched as she'd called her men to order; he'd observed their preparations. He'd seen that she was more driven than normal. However, this time it was not her usual cold, level headed determination that he normally saw; the desire to succeed, regardless of the cost. No, this was pure, burning rage, barely suppressed from exploding over. Danae looked like she was bent on murder; not the simple destruction of an enemy on the battlefield, but rather a specific death.

And then he had found out from Boh and Silmaris exactly what had happened. All of a sudden, he understood exactly what was going on. And then, immediately, he knew how to exploit it to his full advantage.

"Major Weiss." He began as he approached her. Still in her dress uniform, she had clearly come from briefing her unit. Her bodyguard, a man known only as Torch, was by her side; a wall of muscle, Stan knew that he was about the second stupidest member of her unit. He knew that the man would not be a factor, and that he could talk openly in front of him without risk. "I need to speak to you. Now."

"What is it?" She snapped as she turned back to him. Stan, normally an unflappable agent of the Lord of Darkness himself, was taken aback by the intensity of her glare; her steel-blue eyes seemed to be boring right through him, as if she could strike him down simply by looking at him.

None the less, he regained his composure. "I was informed of what has happened." He had no reason to say how he knew, of course. There was no sense in playing such an important hand right now. "Major, not to cast doubt on your own abilities, but this is clearly a trap. Furthermore, our sensors have detected at least four dropships inbound. Your force will be outnumbered."

"This is true." She admitted; however, the intensity was still there. "Your point being?"

"Allow my forces to aid yours." He stated. "Together, we will aid you in repaying the gross injustice that has been visited upon you."

Danae snarled. He could tell that she was torn between the logic of his statements and her own desires. "Very well." She finished. "But Reven Dyron is mine, do you understand me? Touch her, and I will kill you myself."

"Perfectly." Stan nodded. "All other salvage is to be split evenly?"

"Of course." Danae finished. "It does not matter. Now ready your forces for battle." She turned, storming off.

Stan nodded as she went, smiling to himself. Of course, it will be very easy to ensure that an accident befalls you on the battlefield, my erstwhile ally. His smile broke into a broad grin, as his mind began formulating a battle plan that would make the best use of resources to ensure that matters ended as he – and he alone - desired. Should you survive, Reven Dyron, I would like to thank you for handing me this most wondrous of opportunities.

Turning, he headed back towards his office, his long black robes billowing out behind him. Today is a great day; the Bloody Star shall rise, and all shall bow before it.

"Analysis, Torch?" Danae asked as soon as Stan was out of earshot.

"I don't trust him at all." Torch stated. "Especially given how compromised Boh and Silmaris are. But we will need his men."

"Very true." She couldn't help but agree. "Torch, be ready. At the slightest hint of treason, you are to eliminate him."

"With pleasure." His scarred face broke into a broad grin at the thought.

Baxter Christiansen checked over his Firestarter's systems one last time before leaving the hanger bay. The Omnimech had been custom configured to suit his two favourite past-times – setting fire to things and stabbing them. As a consequence, the mech was armed with a mixture of lasers and flamers, as well as a hatchet that had been styled to resemble a scythe.

"I don't know who you are, Reven." He told himself as the mech's systems checked out all green. "But for what you did, whatever it was, I will stab you and make you bleed and suffer. And then burn you good." A twisted smile spread across his face, which dissolved into a manic giggle.

One of the younger mechwarriors in the Blackguards, he had joined the unit only after Dyron's defection. However, he had shown a combination of skill and singular devotion to Danae that had made him one of her favourites. His utter lack of morals or any sense of right or wrong hadn't hurt either; he'd do anything she asked of him if it lead to destruction or stabbings.

In fact, there was only one thing he didn't like doing, and it was something he was faced with as his mech was about to leave the hangar.

"Get off me, you filthy vermin!" He shouted out as a squad of Battle Armoured troopers clambered onto his mech, securing themselves to the mech's handholds designed to carry them. "You little pests! I'll stab you!"

"Shut it, Baxter." Boh's voice cut over his communicator. "You have our only Omni, so we're hitching a ride on the boss's orders."

"I'll stab you anyway!" he snarled.

"Just get going, you little tosser." Boh snapped back.

"All right." He grudgingly admitted. "But I will stab you. Just watch it, Boh. One day, you'll be minding your own business and then... you'll be on fire!"

"Whatever. Just go before I crawl in there and toss you out myself."

After their briefing, Stan had singled out Neil Singer in specific. The Dark Lord, he stated, had very special plans for Neil; ones that he needed to follow to the utmost. Neil had readily accepted these, knowing full well that they had come from the Dark Lord himself, through his earthly agent. This meant that, no matter how distasteful they may be, he had no choice but to follow them. It was the Dark Lord's will.

There were three sets of orders. The first was, as he had discovered, was incredibly distasteful. Normally, the Ribald Sea Creatures served as transports for the Slaves of Stan, his elite mechanised infantry unit. Today, however, they would be transporting elements of the Horde of Timmies, the Blackguards' battle armour force.

Naturally, Neil didn't like this at all. The very idea of his vehicles being used to transport Outsiders was repulsive to him. Not only did they not share his beliefs, not only had they never set foot on the sacred soil of Martin Place, but they also were rude, uncouth and smelled bad.

However, he had his orders. And when he received Stan's other two special orders, he instantly appreciated the true genius in what his Dark lord was planning. He also figured that, at the very least, he could console himself with the fact that his Fulcrum was not a transport in any way and, as such, he didn't have to put up with the filthy outsider presence.

Striding into the hangar, he noticed the wig-wearing technician standing by the tank. "She's all ready to go, sir, I made sure that the engine's running at peak power."

"It had better." He stated as he opened the canopy. "Because if anything goes wrong, I will kill you and force you to eat that stupid wig."

"Oh, I doubt you'll have need to do that, sir." The technician replied.

"Good." Neil clambered into the tank, then activated his communicator. "Ribald Sea creatures, this is Priest Neil Singer. I have special orders for you, ones sent by our Dark Lord himself. It is vital to our future that you follow them to the letter."

Dropship Hammershark, Inbound

Asta System

Word of Blake Protectorate

6 February 3075

As the door of the Hammershark's launch bay opened, Z-One noted the world looming before the ship. He'd seen a lot of planets like this, looking down on them from on-high as his fighter made first contact with the enemy. It was a view he saw a lot, but never tired of. So many worlds he'd seen, each different.

Asta was dominated by a single large continent, with broad, shallow seas. The planet's surface seemed largely flat and open from up here, with wide open plains punctuated by small mountain ranges. It had a peaceful, almost serene look; not the sort of thing one would expect from a world that had, in essence, become a massive prison camp.

Of course, he wasn't here to admire the scenery. "Red Wing One, ready for launch" he reported.

"Roger Red Wing One." The Hammershark's CIC responded. "You are go for launch."

Even with the G-Suit compensating, there was still the crush of acceleration as the Stingray was shot out into space by the Hammershark's cataplut, adding its acceleration to the thrust of the fighter's fusion engine. Within moments, he was out there in the black, the planet looming in front of him while their small fleet of ships were already falling behind. Moments later, Red Wing Two formed up on his wing, the second Stingray almost identical to his own.

"Red Wing flight to command. We are clear and in flight."

"Confirmed, Red Wing flight." Katarina Varrenikov's voice entered the channel. "Form up on us."

"Roger that." Gentle manoeuvring bought his two craft into formation with the Red Star's fighters; a pair each of Eagles, Shilones and Sabres. All were relatively simple and straightforward fighters, none too sophisticated or advanced, but all with reputations for reliability and dependability. Good planes.

"Mother Hen to chicks. We have contacts; half-dozen fighters rising from the planet." Varrenikov continued.

Mother Hen? Z-One found the callsign amusing. It works. She looks like everyone's mother.

"IFF reads as hostile. Enemy craft are accelerating to intercept." She continued. "We are free to engage."

Checking his sensors, Z-One could see the system trying to read the enemy fighters. Centurion, Helcat II… He glanced over the types. Common types used by the PM. Not top of the line, but then, neither are we.

He opened up the throttle, the Stingray's engine surging with power, giving the sleek craft a hit of acceleration. Thundering "down" the gravity well towards the planet, he and RW2 joined the others as they crossed the distance between them as the Word fighters coming "up" to meet them. The enemy fighters, still all but invisible at this distance, stood out clear as day on his LIDAR screen.

"Engaging" he reported as he thumbed the trigger, an enemy Hellcat II in his sights. The Stingray's Extended-Range PPC and Large lasers opened fire, streaming across space to strike at the enemy craft. While there was no signs of contact, the enemy machine returned fire, a pair of lasers stabbing back at his craft. One went wide – at this range, it was inevitable – while the other seared armour off the Stingray's wing.

And now it's on. He rolled back the throttle, still accelerating, but now less so. At long ranges, he had the advantage, and intended to keep it that way. The Hellcat II could accelerate better than he could, which presented it with an advantage he was not willing to give the enemy pilot.

On the other hand, PM pilots are mostly inexperienced garbage truck drivers, he mentally added. Let's see how this guy does.

Pulling on the stick, the Stingray thrusted to the side, sliding through space, unencumbered by aerodynamics or gravity. Twisting the craft as he did, he slewed the nose around as the ship kept travelling towards its opponent. The Hellcat II kept heading in the same direction, its pilot clearly not ready for his move. Opening fire again, Z-One repeated the volley, a trio of beams striking home on the enemy fighter.

Around him, space filled with similar small flashes of fire, as lasers and missiles from the two squadrons reached out to strike each other. Vectoring his thrust, he pulled the Stingray around in a tight turn, while the Helcat II pilot pushed his craft forwards, trying to make up the distance between the pair of them.

Glancing over his display, he could see that the PM fighters and the Red Stars were caught up in a tight ball of swirling indicators; the fighters duelling with each other, their pilots focused on bringing the others down.

Which also meant that the Dropships had a clear run to the planet.

"Z-One to command." He cut in as a pair of beams from the Hellcat narrowly missed his fighter. "You're golden. Take this opportunity and run like hell."

Crystalshard Forest, Lake George District

Asta

Word of Blake Protectorate

6 February 3075

Z-One's work had paid off; the dropships of the Taskforce had made it down to Asta unmolested. Their LZ had been a simple, open area north of the firebase used by the Mercenary forces on-world; no forces had opposed their initial landing, just as Reven had predicted. Their enemy were simply nowhere to be found; the protectorate Militia forces were tied up with protecting both the planet's population centres, as well as the innumerable re-education camps scattered across its one supercontinent.

With the site secured by the Red Star infantry, the three mercenary units had formed up, and begun their march south towards the enemy base camp. They had sent screening and recon elements ahead, probing for their enemy and measuring his response. However, the full body of the force remained as a whole; while mainly battlemechs, there was a smattering of artillery vehicles, as well as battlearmour.

The three commanders were marching their machines together; less out of any strategic or tactical need, but rather as a symbol of unity amongst their units. The mechs themselves presented something of a contrast; Reven's Black Knight was in many ways the most human-like, resembling nothing so much as a man in a suit of ancient plate armour, carrying an axe in its left hand. However, the resemblance stopped at the name; the machine itself was painted primarily silver, with only a smattering of black.

Opposite it, Johnson's Bandersnatch was something of a contrast; the mech's frame was only vaguely humanoid, with a broad, squat torso, and arms that ended in blocky weapons pods. The mech stood out just as much for its colours, however; it was painted in a dazzling, mis-matched array of colours, giving it a psychedelic appearance that was countered by the stark, black paint on the left arm. In many ways, it reflected its pilot; a contrast between pride and mourning.

Between them was Konstantinov's Atlas, the massive machine towering over the other two. Heavy and blocky, the machine's slab-sided frame and skull-like head gave it an imposing demeanour. Its colours added to this; an iron-grey body coupled with deep red limbs, offset by the bone-white skull.

Behind them, their units fanned out, a tide of machines advancing across the landscape, weaving in and out of the alien, crystalline shards that jutted out of the ground. One of Asta's landmarks, similar formations dotted the planet's surface, one that had, in past, drawn visitors to the world. Even with this obstacle, the force moved on, regardless.

Reven had admitted to herself that the shards had a bizarre beauty to them; however, at the same time, she was strangely uninterested in them. Instead, she was filled with anticipation of the battle to come. This was not the usual excitement she had felt in past, however. Instead, it was fanned by her personal role in it. Of all the military operations she had participated in, this one was the most hers. It had only happened because of her presence, her past.

The result was that she was even more insufferably smug then usual.

"You're sure that Weiss will go for this?" Jackson's voice knocked her out of her reverie, the channel as clear as if he was standing next to her.

"For the umpteenth time, yes." She replied, rolling her eyes. "Danae is still sore over what I did to her all those years ago. She wants me dead, and will stop at nothing to get it."

"Reven's not just talking herself up." Rick added as he cut into the channel. "For once."

"Why thank you, Rick." She added, her voice dripping with false modesty.

"It's battlefield psychology." Rick continued. "Find an enemy's weakness, and exploit it."

"I know that." Eddie sounded like he was being lectured to. "I got good at using the Vipers' pride and honour against them twenty years back. I know how to play an enemy. I just don't think this will work."

You're either too concerned about your men, and too afraid to put your trust in someone you don't know. Reven thought to herself. And was the Clan invasion really over twenty years ago now?"

"So play it like that." Rick continued. "You trust your men, and they trust you, true?"

"Without a doubt." His voice suddenly surged with pride.

"And that's how I feel about Reven." Rick shot back. "Despite how it may seem, she has never once steered us wrong. She was smart enough to know a bad situation when she saw one, and brave enough to pull us out of it. And I would continue to trust her just as much as you trust your men, Major Johnson."

Eddie went silent for a moment, before finally speaking up. "What was it she did, Lieutenant?"

"She decided that she did not want to be bound to the Word of Blake." He explained. "She took a stand, rebelling against a commander that was determined to sell the unit out. In essence, she stood up to the Word."

"The Word, huh?" Eddie seemed thoughtful. "Now it makes sense. Captain Dyron, I owe you an apology. I see now I was wrong to doubt you"

"It's understandable, Eddie." She replied, her tone suddenly caring. "You are concerned for your men, that's all. Anyone could have been forgiven for the same."

There was a beep from her console; looking down, she could see a text message pop up, from Rick. You owe me big time.

Masterfully played. She replied.

I learned from the best. Reven couldn't help but grin smugly at the compliment.

"If we are all done arguing." Konstantinov cut into the channel. "We still have a mission here; our enemy's response is still an unknown, and we cannot afford to let our guard down."

"Not to cut in, but I want to counter that." Lambchop's voice entered the command channel. "We have contact with Blackguard mechs, about two kilometres south of the forest." There was a crackle of static on the communicator for a moment. "From the looks of things, we've come across their forward elements. Things are mixing up already."

"Can you see the body of their force?" Konstnatinov asked, his voice authoritarian and strict. "What is their disposition?"

"I have contact; it looks like the better part of two mech battalions advancing form due south. They're using a large lake to screen their left flank, but we may be able to box them in against the hills to their left."

"Understood." Konstnatinov replied. "Red Stars will form the centre; I want the Storm Riders in front to draw their attention, as per the plan. The Dogs will form up on the right flank and try to hem their forces in, but watch the lake. Red Army Choir; I want you to be ready to begin bombardment on my mark; use the forest for cover."

There was a chorus of affirmatives as officers relayed orders to their subordinates. As their formations reshuffled, Reven couldn't help but smile to herself. Okay, Danae. Let's see just how angry you are.

"Strike Lead to all strike units." Lambchop called out as his Wraith sprinted across the plains. "Our goal is to verify enemy force and position while denying the enemy intel on ours. Thus we move, not fight!" He was throwing a blanket command not only to his units, but to those Red Star and Wild Funky Dog units in the recon team; he could only assume that they would have the sense to follow such a command.

"What do we do if they engage?" Someone shot back.

"Skirmish, don't stay and fight." He replied, calmly. "And just do whatever I do, and everything will turn out just fine."

He kept his machine moving, topping out at over a hundred kilometres an hour. The area was largely open, gently rolling with isolated clumps of trees, framed by a lake to one side, and hills to another. It was a great place to have a standing fight; it was not so good for someone like him who liked to be mobile and screen from his enemies. Of course, his job was not to fight; his was to report.

Naturally, the enemy wouldn't see it that way.

A Commando stepped around a clump of trees, opening fire with a spray of missiles from its chest launcher. Fortunately, the enemy pilot didn't seem to be prepared for his speed, which resulted in the missiles going well wide of the mark. Smiling to himself, Lambchop shot back with the Wraith's large pulse laser; the energy darts made their mark, hammering into the Commando's chest.

"Toodles!" He shouted out, sprinting away from the lighter mech. "Strike lance, execute manoeuvre Bonsai Tree Big Truck Mansion. Make sure they don't get anything over the touchdown line; dance, don't stand"

Several more shots hammered into the Commando's flank as Ford's Venom sprinted by it. Damaged, the machine managed to remain standing, turning to face the fast-moving mech; a single shot from its forearm laser narrowly missing her mech. Rather than returning fire, Ford instead opened up on a bright yellow and red Wolfhound that was moving up to support it, before taking to the air.

The Wolfhound, like the Commando turned to open fire on her mech, only to be stung by bolts from Lambchops' trio oflasers; the shots peeled armour from the Wolfhound's chest and side, causing the mech to stumble, then fall backwards.

"Tackle!" He called out, firing the Wraith's jets; he had his eye on a nice bit of landscape that would allow him to observe the enemy's formation. "Nice interce – whoah, hang on." An alarm rang out in the mech's cockpit indicating an enemy weapon lock. Moments later, a score of missiles rose up to meet his mech.

The Wraith shuddered with the impacts, but retained its balance as it landed. Looking around, he desperately searched for his attacker; he followed a trail, leading up to the hill – his hill! Atop it was a Dervish, clad in drab camouflage colours, its missile bays open.

"Okay then, if that's how we're gonna play it." He replied with a confident smile. "We'll see who's hill this really is!" The Wraith charged forwards, spraying fire at the Dervish; several bolts struck its side as the enemy mech returned fire. SRMs and lasers made their mark, but failed to penetrate the armour.

"Watching me? Good!" He fired the jets again; however, rather then leaping up close where the enemy mech was at its weakest, he instead jetted away from it, aiming to break contact with the Dervish and its hill-hogging pilot.

And then he got an eyeful of advancing mechs.

Keying his command console, he opened a new channel. "This is Storm Rider Strike lead to Red Army Choir command. Do you read?"

"Confirmed, Strike lead." Captain Volkova replied. "What is it?"

"I'm gonna send you some coordinates." He commented, a pleased tone in his voice as he keyed in the enemy's location, noting the specifics of their formation. "Have fun."

Kobyashi Hills, Lake George District

Asta

Word of Blake Protectorate

6 February 3075

Despite her eagerness to confront Reven and deliver unto her the justice that she so truly deserved, Danae had enough sense to want that battle to be fought on her terms. As such, she had reluctantly accepted the aid of the Bloody Star; her allies and comrades in arms. However, just as she was smart enough not to rush into battle blindly, she was also smart enough not to trust Stan's forces in the slightest.

She'd kept their forces separate; hers to the west by the lake, his to the east. Just to make sure that there were no unexpected surprises, she'd also made sure that Silmaris was on the west side of her company, where he would be isolated from Stan and his men. Finally, she was keeping Torch close as a way of further protecting herself from anything that may happen.

Danae didn't want anything to go wrong.

"I have contact." Dakkar's voice cut into the command channel. "Just south of the Crystalshard forest; looks like recon mechs. We're engaging."

"Understood. Whose are they?"

"Uh..." The whooshing of missiles filled the channel. "Give me a-"

"Now, Dakkar." She stated.

"Well, I can't say for sure; looks like elements of two different units from what I can see. There's a Wraith and am uh, pink Venom, but I can't make out markings."

Pink Venom. Erika Ford; member of Fletch's recon lance. That fits. "Understood. Keep them there at any cost." She switched channels before Dakkar could respond. "Blackguard lead to all Blackguard forces; we have made contact with the traitor's unit due north of here. All units move to engage immediately." At the same time, she pushed open her mech's throttle; the ponderous Fafnir began to stride forward, its massive feet falling heavily on the ground below.

"Dakkar; keep your units in place and try to pin down their recon elements; I do not want harassers in our flank. Silmaris, keep to the lakefront to stop them from cutting us off."

"Major" Silmaris spoke up. "I think that-"

"God damn it, just do it!" She shot back. "I will not have this opportunity to deal with that impudent witch wasted. You will follow my letters to the order. Is that understood?"

"Y-yes, major." His tone seemed more reluctant then cowed, but the result was the same. He was following her orders.

Danae again changed channels, cutting off any further reply from her subordinate. "Stan, we are moving to engage the enemy. I want your unit to remain to our east to prevent any enemy flanking manoeuvre." She had no direct authority over Stan; hypothetically the two were equal. All she could do was suggest and hope that he would have the sense to follow.

"Understood, Major." He replied, a far more pleasant tone in his voice than normal. "We will keep to the east flank and support your unit then. I will send my air cavalry ahead to support our recon elements."

"Excellent." Danae replied. "Out."

"And may the Dark Lord guide your path, Major Weiss." Stan finished as he closed the channel.

She should have been annoyed at the preaching; instead, she didn't care. She was focused, fixed on her goal. All was falling into place. Reven would fall, and she would have the justice she so deserved.

An explosion caught her attention; a huge blast tore up the ground on Stan's flank, spraying his mechs with dirt. Seconds later, another round erupted, this time in the middle of his formation. Shells were raining down on the Bloody Star, falling into their ranks.

"What is going on?" She called out.

"Artillery barrage." Malakai cut in. "Looks like conventional guns. I'm getting a lead on them now."

"Well hurry!" She called back. "Before they-" Another shell made its mark, again detonating in amongst Stan's forces.

"Of course, Major." He finished.

She glanced back at the Bloody Stars' formation; already lagging behind hers, they were shuffling around, trying to break ranks to avoid the chance of a hit.

"And check their fire pattern." She narrowed her eyes. "There is something afoot here"

From Stan's perspective, everything was unfolding as he had planned. From the cockpit of his Titan II, he could see the way his forces had deployed, and the march towards their enemies. The only problem he had was that Weiss had chosen to put Silmaris on her far flank, where the Blackguard officer would be isolated from his influence.

He knew, however, that this could be just as much a tactical move as it was an effort by Weiss to eliminate a threat to her. As such, he didn't see it as a concern. After all, on the battlefield, all manner of accidents could occur. His plans had included such accidents.

Both he and Danae had kept their forces separate on the march; they made for an interesting contrast. The Blackguards had more mechs than he did; however, rather then the uniform pattern he employed, they were painted a disjointed mixture of different colours. However, he had both his VTOL forces and his mechanised infantry to bulk out his army, assets that Weiss could not match.

All was going to plan; a fact that he was confident of, right up until the first artillery shell landed.

Calling over the command channel, he used every reserve of his influence to keep his formations together. Artillery was not something his men had ever faced before leaving Martin Place; even now, many of them had very little experience against anything but direct line-of-fire weapons. As more shells dropped, he tried to analyse their patterns, and look for a solution.

"Spread out." He called over the command channel. "Enemy artillery is concentrated towards our west flank. Al units, pull further east towards the hills to minimise damage." The shells continued to rain down, but now were doing less damage as his mechs responded appropriately. "Where's this fire coming from?"

"I have the enemy's location." Malakai DeSlowe, Danae's second in command replied. "They seem to be located in the Crystalshard forest, north of our current location, and behind the enemy's front line."

DeSlowe is loyal to Weiss. However, I have no reason to doubt him. "Very well." Switching channel, he opened up a link to his air cavalry. Initially, he'd planned for them to support his forces, and deal with the enemy scouts. However, now he had other needs. "Skywitch Sanders; I have new orders."

"Yes, your lordship?"

"Take out the enemy's artillery; cut around the main body of their force and then strike them down for their impudence." He demanded. "Silence those guns, priest Sanders!"

"You will, my lord!" She replied, the sounds of her VTOL's engines filling the background.

"Do not fail me." He snarled under his breath as another shell went off nearby. "Destiny is in our hands. I will not be denied."

Keeping her forces low to the ground, Skywitch Sanders drove her company of VTOLs forward. Weaving in and out of the hills that made up the district, she was ever watchful for signs of her enemy. Her operation relied on stealth and avoiding fire, then striking her enemy.

She knew how vital this was to her Lord Stan, and that she would not fail him. Whatever the cost, she would succeed.

Her nav computer indicated that the unit was approaching their objective; ahead, she could see the jagged crystalline formations that comprised the "forest" indicated. Inside it were her Lord's enemies, the ones who had dared to strike at him with their evil weapons.

"Eyewitnesses; pop-up and attack!" She called over the command channel. "Destroy them utterly in the name of our Dark Lord!"

Her Cavalry climbed over the top of one of the crystalline pillars, looking down on the battlefield. Ahead of her lay the vehicles of the enemy artillery unit; firing their weapons while still unaware of her presence. She couldn't help but laugh as she drove forward. Slow, lightly armoured and stuck on the ground, they would have no chance against her forces.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something else; a mech hanging back from the artillery formation. The Cavalry's targeting system identified it as a Cataplut, a heavy mech normally used for fire-support or artillery roles.

"Take out the mechs first!" She called out to her unit as she twisted the VTOL around. "I'm going in close; gunner, get ready to open fire."

And then the Yellowjacket next to her ship exploded.

"What?" Sanders desperately searched around to see what had happened. Something caught her eye, sunlight reflecting off an object high in the sky above her. Whatever it was, it was moving fast, leaving a trail of exhaust and vapour behind it as it climbed, then began to turn.

"Fighters!" She shouted out. "Scatter!" As capable as her VTOLs were, Sanders also knew that they were sitting ducks against even the lightest of conventional fighters. Against enemy aerospace forces, they normally wouldn't have a chance. She had to do whatever she could to keep her unit alive, and try to achieve their objectives.

A Warrior turned to follow her, only to be impaled by a trio of lasers that sheared its tailboom off. Deprived of control, the gunship spun downwards, spewing black smoke from the wreckage of its hull. Moments later, a fighter passed through the space where it had been, climbing away; a battered, battle-scarred Eagle. While clearly damaged, the fighter was still a threat.

Or rather, it would be if she allowed it to.

The Cavalry dropped to barely ten meters above the ground, darting forward as fast as she could safely push the machine. Rather then skimming over the crystals, Sanders was now weaving in between them, focusing on keeping low and not giving her hunters a target. Behind her, other members of her flight attempted to do the same; a Mantis ducked down behind her, while another Warrior was less fortunate; the helicopter was pelted with LRMs, the missiles smashing into its canopy and rotor, sending it crashing to the ground.

Ignoring the losses for now, she concentrated on manoeuvring her machine through the maze of pillars. Compared to the fighters, her VTOLs were far slower and more fragile. However, they also had advantages that their would-be hunters lacked. The fighters could only make high-speed passes at her craft; they had one shot, then had to pull away. However, she could remain hidden in amongst the terrain and use it as a shield; if her enemies missed their chance, she could escape while they came around.

Of course, she wasn't going to give them the chance. Instead, she was going to finish her mission, no matter what it took. "Hold on tight" She muttered to her gunner as she pushed the Cavalry forward, accelerating despite the precarious situation they were in. The craft weaved in between the pillars, taking advantage of every bit of cover it could find. Doing this was a risk, but it was one that she was willing to take. Sanders knew she was a skilled pilot; now she would need every last reserve of that skill to serve her lord.

She pulled a sharp turn, keeping her speed up as she did, narrowly avoiding one of the pillars. Behind her, another VTOL was a lot less fortunate; the pilot sideslipped, losing control of his craft and slamming it into the pillar. She didn't care for his loss; she was focused solely on her mission.

Lasers carved into the rocks around her craft, the looming formation blocking it from enemy fire. Overhead, a kite-shaped fighter pulled away, its pilot trying to turn to get another pass at her. However, she wouldn't let him.

Pulling around again, the Cavalry surged forwards into a clearing in the crystal "forest". Right in front of her was one of the enemy units, a Thumper artillery vehicle. "Now!" She excitedly called out. "Fire!" A dozen SRMs leaped from the Cavalry's nose, corkscrewing and slamming into the enemy tank's side. As they tore into its armour, secondary explosions burst out, tearing the tank apart from within. Slewing the VTOL away, she watched as the Thumper detonated, ripping itself apart in a spectacular fireball.

One blow for the dark lord. She congratulated herself. There will be many more to follow. The Cavalry pulled away as machine guns and other light weapons fire from the surviving tanks filled the air, the round ineffectually flying around her craft. Looking ahead, she saw a ridge that offered an obvious escape; pop over there, and she would be out of line of sight of the enemy units. Then, she could circle around and take out another enemy of her Lord.

Instead, a huge shape loomed before her. Desperately yanking back on the stick, Sanders desperately tried to slew the Gunship away; instead, the Cataplut that had been looming behind the ridge simply stood its ground, then opened fire with all four of its nose-mounted lasers. The beams struck home, tearing apart the Cavalry's nose and cockpit, instantly killing its crew.

"Enemy gunship down." Natalya Volkova called over the command channel.

"Understood." Varennikov called back. The fighter commander had spotted the Cavalry as it had approached; there hadn't been enough time to save the crew of the Thumper, but, at the very least, Natalya had been able to take out the enemy craft before it could claim any other victims. "I will continue to hunt them down."

Nodding to herself, Natalya focused on the task at hand. "Red Army Choir, continue fire." Her own Catapluts were in reserve, however, waiting for specific orders. Loaded with homing missiles, their Arrow IV launchers were on standby to the enemy, rather than the seemingly blind (but actually, very well directed) fire of the rest of the unit.

And, as soon as she had the order, Volkova would ensure that those missiles reached their objectives.

"Status, Lambchop?" Reven called over the command channel.

"Well." He began as his Wraith sprinted away from the Dervish, spraying laser fire at the enemy machine. "We're well and truly engaged now with forward elements from the Blackguards."

"And the Artillery barrage?"

"I can confidently say that the barrage has done its job." He commented as flight of missiles narrowly missed his mech, instead blasting apart a stand of trees near him. "The Blackguards and the Bloody Star are very much separated, and show no hint of cooperating with each other."

"In other words, just as we planned."

"Pretty much, yep." He commented, leaping his mech behind a thick stand of trees, opting to cool down rather then pressing his assault and risking shutdown. "Have a cookie."

"We're beginning to engage now." Reven continued. "Do your magic."

"In other words, get into their rooms and mess up their stuff. Gotcha chief." Around him, Lambchop could see the initial signs of engagement; long-range missile and ballistic salvoes being exchanged between the two units. At this distance, there was going to be very little accuracy; the shots were being made to soften up or weaken, rather than kill.

"Strike lance, it's time to say impudence to these guys." He grinned. "And that is impudence." The Wraith burst from cover, running towards the Blackguards' line. Alone, he knew that he couldn't do much. However, the Wraith was an excellent raider, harasser and skirmisher; one of them behind an enemy formation could cause all sorts of havoc. And he saw himself as a master of such.

As expected, the enemy mechs were more focused on the oncoming force; certainly enough that he had at least a little leeway before he got noticed. Sprinting closer, he kept to the lakeside, where their forces were the weakest.

Lumbering ahead of him was the squat, blocky shape of a Falconer, a heavy-hitting mech designed for long-ranged fire. From both the intel that he'd read and Reven's own recollections, he was pretty certain that the mech would be piloted by Silmaris, one of Danae's officers. Certainly harassing him would be a major distraction to their command structure. Time to do it.

Making sure he didn't become food for its long-range guns, he made a quick study of the terrain, looking for anything that could be a benefit while he closed with the enemy mech. Finding a copse of trees nearby, he broke into a high-speed run, keeping as much cover between the enemy machine and his as possible. One wrong move could see him on the receiving end of a Gauss Rifle round, an idea that was not nice at the best of times.

Instead, he was greeted by a hail of cannon fire; rounds tore into the landscape around him, saturating the area and rocking his mech. Checking his display, Lambchop could see that while his armour was yet to be breached, it was suddenly looking more than a bit ragged, something he could ill-afford in his style of warfare.

Quickly, he checked around for the source of the attack; it wasn't hard to locate. Looming on top of a hill was a Jaegermech, the barrel-chested heavyweight machine in a woodland camouflage pattern that would have given it excellent cover – had it not been standing on a hill on a grassy plain. None the less, he had to respect the enemy pilot. "You have good marksmanship, have picked a great location and stand poised to mess up all my clever plans." He commented to himself. "In many ways, you are my opposite number. Very well then, let's see who is the better of the pair of us."

"Hey Silmaris!" Rand called over the command link as his Jaegermech took up position. "I'm standing on top of the hill!"

"That's nice, Rand." Silmaris replied, a degree of strain clear in his voice.

"Hey, there's a mech coming this way." He continued, watching his display. "Is that an enemy mech? Is it within thirty meters?"

"Just shoot it, dumbarse!" Silmaris shouted out. "Don't let it get past you!"

"Okay then!" Rand called back, then squeezed his triggers.

Lambchop managed to avoid the worst of another burst of fire, but only just. Warning lights told him that the armour over his mech's left flank had been breached; while there wasn't any systems damage, another shot there could mess up his whole day. If I let it happen.

While the Jagermech's weapons weren't that dangerous in terms of raw damage, they had a lot of advantages. First was their reach; his pulse lasers were for close-in fighting, while the Autocannons had twice his range. Furthermore, the Jaegermech could keep firing for a long time without any heat problems. Finally, he knew that the mech was firing cluster rounds, which tended to be very good at exploiting holes in his armour; holes that he was beginning to very clearly show compared to the pristine enemy machine.

All I can rely upon is my speed and natural awesomeness.

The Wraith leaped into the air, sailing towards the Jaegermech on pillars of fusion flame, rapidly eating up the distance between the two machines. He landed inside a clump of trees, providing limited cover. Opening fire with his large laser, he clipped the enemy machine's flank. Seemingly unphased, the Jagermech returned fire, its shells largely shredding the trees he had been using for cover.

Seeing that the stand had served its use, and not wanting to make a target of himself, Lambchop broke into a run, the Wraith swerving to the Jagermech's damaged flank. Closing the distance, he opened up again with his lasers. This time, the results were more solid; all three hit home, scoring armour off its side and legs.

The enemy machine returned fire, spraying more shots in his direction. This time, speed was on his side; shots tore up the scenery behind him, with only light damage to his armour. His mech was shaken, but remained standing. Conversely, the Jaegermech stumbled.

"Okay guys, let's finish this dance." He pushed in, closing to near point-blank range, before cutting the left. At this distance, his weapons were at the most effective, while the Jaegermech's were at their least. Oddly, his enemy had chosen to stand their ground, rather then backing up or evading. He'd worry about why later.

Instead, he opened up at near point-blank range; the three lasers spitting darts of fire at the enemy mech. The lasers tore into the damaged leg, capitalising on his initial strike. Stripping off the last of the armour, they sawed through the metal bones of the limb, severing artificial muscles. With an almost comedic flair, the Jaegermech flailed its arms, then slowly collapsed, crashing to the ground.

"Whoever you are, my fallen foe, I salute you." Lambchop commented as he jetted away from the downed mech. "Now, about that Falconer."

"Hey Silmaris!" Rand called out. His mech was lying flat on its back, his viewscreen fill of sky. "I fell over. Can I get some help?"

"Danae, where are you?" Reven called out over an open channel. "Are you out there?" She knew that there was every chance that the enemy would be monitoring it. In fact, she suspected that they would.

Her Black Knight sprinted in amongst the rest of the Storm Riders' formation, the members of the Wild Funky Dogs supporting them. Ahead of them were the Blackguars' lines, a mess of mechs that were as mis-matched as her own. "Come on, I know you're listening for me. I bet it burns you so bad that I've actually got the guts to face you. That's gotta play with your image of me as a greedy coward."

Around her, members of the two units opened fire, shots flying into the enemy lines. For her part, Reven picked out a mech in the crowd; a Blackguard War Dog, dressed up in a garish red and purple schem. Dropping her sights onto it, she opened fire with her large lasers and PPC, tearing armour off the enemy machine. As it staggered under the blow, a flight of LRMs slammed into it, adding to the damage she had done.

Barely keeping its feet, the War Dog returned fire, not at her, but rather at the Archer behind her that had poured on the LRMs. Shots went past her mech, slamming into the Archer. The mech was wreathed in smoke and debris, but seemed to be largely intact. "So that's it, huh?" She continued, an arrogant tone in her voice. "Have you told them not to open fire on me, simply so that you have the opportunity to kill me yourself?"

She pushed forward, continuing the assault on the Blackguard mech. Her lasers stripped armour off the torso, sending the mech staggering back. Black smoke billowed out from the hole in its side, while on her thermal display, the mech suddenly spiked into the red. Another volley of LRMs slammed into it, driving the heavy mech to its knees.

"Aw, come on, Danae!" She shouted out as she closed in; this time, the medium lasers in her mech's chest dug into the War Dog, ripping armour from the already damaged machine. Managing to make it back to its feet, the War Dog's mechwarrior seemed to be genuinely torn as to what to do, finally deciding to send more LRMs at the Archer.

"Is that the best you have? Afraid someone else will kill me? Or are you just too chicken to come out and play?" She pushed forward, swinging at the War Dog with her Black Knight's massive hatchet. The weapon struck home, slamming into the mech's already damaged side, crushing armour and structure with a wrenching screech of tortured metal. The War Dog's reactor flared white-hot for a second, before the safety systems took it offline.

"I'm in your formation, killing your men!" She shouted out, defiantly.

There was a crack of twin sonic booms; abruptly, the Archer behind her staggered back as a pair of gauss rounds slammed into its torso, pummelling its armour.

That could have been me... She commented as she looked back at the mech, then turned around. Ahead of her loomed a Cerberus, the assault mech's twin gauss rifles raised. Except it wasn't. Just to prove my point.

"So you set your dog on me." Reven finished with a contemptuous tone. "Fine. He gets mine."

Ivan Konstantinov would have gladly stated that he didn't like Reven's theatrics, nor her ego. What he would have also stated is that, regardless of how he felt, they had definitely worked. Things were going exactly as planned, and it was all due to her grandstanding.

The Blackguards and the Bloody Star had been lured out, and were now fighting the battle that he had wanted them to fight. They had been separated, and were most certainly not cooperating. Their air cavalry had been neutralised, and he knew they did not have fighters or artillery of their own. Now all they needed to do was destroy their enemy.

It was something that Ivan personally relished.

His massive Atlas strode forward, in amongst the mechs of the Red Star Guard. The machine was a legacy of the unit; it had been his father's mech, and served him for over twenty years. Ivan had inherited it when he took control of the unit, and treated the machine with the reverence that it had deserved. So much so that, after it was badly damaged during one operation, he had invested his own personal savings in ensuring that it would be rebuilt with the best technology available.

He sighted an enemy mech; a Crusader, dressed in the hideous red and yellow colours of the Bloody Star. As soon as his systems registered a lock, he opened fire, the Atlas unleashing most of its arsenal on the enemy mech. The Gauss Rifle and twin Light PPCs stabbed at the mech, flaying its barrel chest with artificial lightning before the gauss round slammed into it, sending it reeling. The twin MML systems hurled long-range missiles at the machine, the warheads seeking the holes that he had already punched in the mech's armour.

Barely keeping its feet, the Crusader returned fire with a pair of LRM flights. As the missiles arced home, the Atlas' anti-missile system chattered to life, spraying the incoming warheads with fire. A number of them were simply shot out of the sky; most of those that remained found their mark on the massive machine, doing little more than cosmetic damage to its thick hide.

The truth was, Konstantinov wanted to see the Bloody Star and the Blackguards destroyed. While it was the job that his men had been assigned by their employer, there was more than just that to it. Much like his Atlas, Ivan took pride in his role as the leader of the Red Star Guards. He had been a part of the mercenary world for most of his life and, as such, saw what he did not only as a job, but as a way of life.

He was proud of his unit, proud of their history and they way they conducted themselves. While they may be hired guns, they had always conducted themselves as professional soldiers; ones who would not shirk from their responsibilities, but rather, do their utmost to fulfil their aims. They embodied some of the best of the mercenary world; while not the largest, most skilled or most famous of units by a long way, they had that certain degree of honesty and loyalty that were sought after.

As he thumbed the firing trigger again, he considered those that his unit were facing. Little more than criminal scum with mechs, they were no better than periphery bandits. Untrustworthy, unreliable and with their loyalty measured solely by their employer's income, they were the antithesis of all he believed in. Such units were a disgrace to the profession; they deserved to be destroyed for all they represented.

He'd found that he and Eddie Johnson had a lot in common; both were proud of their units and their histories. Both of them believed in giving their utmost for their employer, and held themselves to high standards of conduct. And both had a deep hatred of those mercenaries who were completely without honour or loyalty. Even Reven showed some of these traits; after all, she had chosen to abandon what she saw as a bad cause, even with the risks it had entailed.

As the Crusader collapsed under his mech's fire, Ivan scanned the battlefield. Around him, the Red Star were pushing forward, engaging in combat with the enemy mechs. However, there were some of the Bloody Star that were hanging back; Ivan knew that these would be their commanders, the true source of the unit's disgrace. The leader was more then the one who commanded his men in battle; he was meant to be a source of inspiration, a model for his men.

The leaders of the Bloody Star had to die; not just because of their role on the battlefield, but because of their role off of it.

And there, in the middle of them, was his goal. The Red and black Titan II, piloted by the leader of the Bloody Star.

"Red Star lead to Domovoi one." He opened a channel to a specific mech in his force. "Key my target. I will protect you until you are ready"

"Affirmative, colonel." The mechwarrior replied. Striding beside his own Atlas, a smaller Eagle sighted the Titan II, following Ivan's lead. As the Atlas moved forward, the Eagle followed it, as if the larger mech could protect it with its sheer physical presence.

Slow for its weight and not impressively armed, the Eagle was poorly regarded by many. However, Konstnatinov appreciated some of the mech's other capabilities; specifically, the Target Acquisition Gear that it was using to guide his artillery onto Stan's mech.

The loss of the Eyewitnesses had not bode well for Stan; without them, there was no way to get to the enemy guns without going through the enemy. While he had manoeuvred the Bloody Star to avoid the worst of their fire, his unit had still been damaged by the barrage. All he could do was close with the enemy, and hope that they were smart enough not to continue to pour artillery on where there was a chance of hitting their own men.

"Bloody Star; close quarters with the enemy; engage them hand-to-hand if you must." He called out. "Hammamimmil, hold our right flank. Do not allow the enemy formations to link up!" He keyed across the tactical display, looking at the situation. The first ranks of Bloody Star mechs were already engaging their enemy; damage was piling up on both sides.

"This is our day of destiny!" He continued, rallying his men. He was determined to make the most of this situation, to use it to further his own goals and agendas. The best way to do that was from a situation of strength, and the best display of strength was to crush one's enemy. "You, the faithful followers of the Bloody Star, will drive our enemies back. Your belief is your sword, your devotion your armour! Use these weapons, my brothers! Strike down our enemies in the name of our Dark Lord, so that you may rule at his side in the world to come!"

There was a chorus of cheers from his men as they rallied to his cry; their mechs pushed forwards, surging at the enemy.

"Cut them down with all your might! Crush them, obliterate them in their entirety!" he fired his weapons, the Titan II's LRMs and Heavy PPC bombarding an enemy Cestus, tearing huge chunks from its armour. "Cleanse my universe of this filth!"

Several more shots tore into the damaged mech, sending it reeling. His demands seemed to be having an effect; his troops seemed determined and energised, fighting with every ounce of strength that they had. However, he also knew that speeches alone would not be enough. He had to destroy his enemy utterly.

Ahead of him, in amongst the enemy ranks, a single mech stood out. An Atlas, the huge machine towered over all around it; a second mech followed close by it, dwarfed by the larger one's presence. The enemy Battlemech seemed to radiate command and authority; something – possibly his intuition, possibly his Dark Lord - told him that this mech was vital to his enemy. And, as such, he needed to destroy it.

"Dark lord to-" he began, but was cut off by a massive explosion. Something struck his mech, tearing through the armour, sending it reeling. "What in the name of the Dark Lord Below is going on!"He demanded.

"Arrow Artillery missiles." Captain DeSlowe cut in. "Precision guided, so they have no risk of hitting their own men."

He snarled quietly, then changed back to his command circuit, determined to salvage the situation. "All units; look for enemy spotters and destroy them immediately!" Looking around, he considered his options. There was one card left to play; now was the time for it.

"Priest Singer. The time is right. Engage."

Priest Neil Singer had been awaiting Stan's second order from the moment his unit had set out. Now the time had come. "Understood. Second Order confirmation." He replied, trying his best to hide the excitement in his voice. "Executing."

He opened the throttle on his Fulcrum, the Hovertank charging forwards, skimming over the surface of Lake George. Behind and around him, the other hovercraft of the Ribald Sea Creatures did the same, charging forwards. At the centre of the formation was the key to their operation; four transports, each one loaded down with Battle Armoured troopers.

The plan that their dark lord had ordered them upon was brilliant in its simplicity. The Ribald Sea Creatures would use the lake to flank their enemy, unload their cargo and then engage them from behind. The combination of hovertanks and battle armour in the enemy's rear would be devastating, a blow that would cripple their offensive.

Stan had emphasised the importance of this strike. He had explained how it was vital to the unfolding end times, how Neil himself would play a major role in the apocalypse to come and, finally, how that would, in turn, ascend him to the right hand of the Dark Lord himself.

And that was just this second stage. Neil could only wonder about what his reward would be for the third.

The company continued to charge towards their objective, tearing across the lake. Neil himself was amazed at how well his craft was handling. He'd expected the worst from the toupee-wearing idiot who had been working on his tank. Instead, it seemed that the Fulcrum was handling better than ever. He'd have to thank the technician when he returned; whoever the man was, he had done the unit a favour.

And then the Blizzard next to his tank exploded. The machine simply blew apart from within, its rear half disintegrating into a mess of metal, then the front crashing into the water. Before he could do or say anything, a Condor to his right also erupted into flames, the tank flipping over and vanishing in a cloud of water and parts.

"What is-" He yelled out, only to be cut off by another explosion, as another tank and then another went up. There were no signs of enemy units, no attackers, nothing. The hovertanks were simply ripping themselves apart from within, like they had been rigged to explode.

"You!" He called out. "You wig-wearing, impud-" Neil's cry was cut off as the Fulcrum's ammunition suddenly erupted, tearing the tank and its crew apart."

"Told you that you wouldn't need to do that." The technician commented as he checked his watch. Smiling to himself, he adjusted his hair, and quietly slipped away. With what was to come, nobody would miss him.

"The Ribald Sea Creatures appear to have been destroyed." Malakai spoke up, his voice not betraying a hint of emotion. "They are no longer responding; satellite imagery shows debris on the lake. It is a fair assumption that the Horde of Timmies are lost with them."

Danae nodded silently as the battle raged around her. "Understandable. However, we will not let this setback stop us. We will destroy our enemies. Dyron will pay for her crimes."

"No!" Stan shouted out, his voice echoing across the channel. "This was sabotage! That is the only way that this could have happened!"

"Rather than seeking blame, I suggest you focus on winning the battle, Stan." Her voice had an almost condescending tone to it. "If your Bloody Stars fought as well as you talked, then you would not have to rely on your hovertanks to win."

"You..." he snarled. "You will pay for this impudence!" He closed the channel before Danae could reply, static providing the only response instead.

"Malakai, I want options, now." She continued, ignoring Stan's cries. "I will not let Reven escape me now."

"Understood. Anything else, major?"

"Yes. I want an ultra-secure, encrypted link to Torch right now; something that there is no chance of Stan intercepting."

"One moment." There was a pause. "Go ahead."

"Major?" Torch spoke up, the sounds of weapons fire loud in the background. "What do you need?"

"Time for the contingencies we discussed. As soon as is possible, enact them."

"With pleasure, major."

"Nail 'em guys!" Rick shouted out as his Awesome drove forward, its advance slow but seemingly inevitable. "Turn 'em to scrap!"

Rick liked to play the part of the confident, stable and professional second in command; it was one that he performed rather well for those outside the unit. Anyone who actually knew him, however, would have seen him for what he really was.

"Yee-haw!" he called out as the Awesome's quartet of PPCs fired off, unleashing a wave of artificial lightning. Reaching out, the weapons stabbed into an enemy Gallowglass, spearing into the already damaged mech.

In truth. Rick was loud. Very loud. He seemed to like talking a lot, especially in the heat of battle. He'd only stop talking when he was handing out orders; in that case, it was simply that he was merely talking about something relevant at the time.

The battered Gallowglass staggered back towards a clump of trees, seeking cover from Rick's mech and its overwhealming firepower. Instead, the undergrowth erupted as a squad of Red Star battlearmour erupted from it, leaping onto the enemy mech. Rick grinned to himself as he watched the events unfold. "Battlearmoure'd!" He shouted out, pumping his fist in the air as he sought out a new target.

Instead, one presented itself to him; a Gauss Rifle round slammed into his mech's shoulder, sheering off armour, but not penetrating the Awesome's thick hide. He could see the source of the attack, however; a black and blue Falconer.

"Silamris". Rick narrowed his eyes as he focused on the enemy mech. "I remember you…" he began, his vice quiet and serious. "In the mountains…"

The truth was, he did remember Silmaris from when he had been in the Blackguards. He didn't like the man at all. Silmaris had been promoted ahead of Rick, and he could never understand why. It wasn't like he was a better commander or pilot, and certainly it wasn't for his dress sense. All that he could figure was that Silmaris was simply a better kiss-up.

He opened fire with three of his PPCs, cycling the weapons to keep his heat down. Two of them hit home, carving armour off the Falconer's arm and leg. Silmaris' mech replied, its Gauss Rifle and PPC striking the Awesome, again ripping away armour, but doing not much else.

"Right then. Let's see what your fancy-pants mech can do then." While his Awesome was heavier and carrying more armour, Rick knew that the Falconer had a lot of advantages. It was a lot faster and equipped with jump jets; furthermore, its weapons could massively out-range his. Silmaris could use those assets to fight on his terms.

If Rick let him.

"Eat laser electric death!" He shouted out as the Awesome charged forwards, is massive bulk bearing down on the smaller mech. This time, he fired all four PPCs, the beams converging on the Falconer, slamming into it and bathing it in their blue glow. Armour was ripped free from its hull, electricity playing over it as the beams struck home. However, to his surprise, the mech stayed upright, weathering the barrage.

"Well, they made it good, I'll give them that much." He muttered to himself as the Falconer backpedalled, then opened fire again. Both cannons struck home, causing the Awesome to waver and stagger on its feet. Checking over his display, Rick could see that there were serious holes opening in his protection; nothing bad, but certainly he'd be in danger country soon. On the other hand, he figured that Silmaris couldn't be doing much better.

Pushing the mech forward to close the distance, he again triggered all four weapons. However, at the last moment, the Falconer lifted away, its jump jets launching it into the air, leaving Rick's shots to tear up the landscape where it had been. Silmaris fired back, however, the jump seemed to have thrown him off as well; both the Gauss Rifle and PPC tore into the ground by his mech, failing to hit home.

"Son of a motherless goat!" He shouted out as he wheeled the Awesome around. The Falconer had come down in the middle of a clump of trees atop a hill; putting it in a situation that gave it all the advantages. All Rick could do was simply drive forward and hope that his Awesome could hold up to the punishment. Muttering to himself, he pushed forward, trying to close the distance. His mech seemed to complain about this idea, the cockpit washing with head.

"Yeah, yeah." He triggered three of the PPCs, again fighting to keep the Awesome's temperature under control. Two of the beams hit their target, the third blasting a tree by the enemy machine into splinters. Again, however, the Falconer held its ground, managing to stay upright despite the savage beating.

Silmaris returned fire, giving better then he got; both weapons struck home, the Awesome staggering and reeling under the blows. As he fought with the controls, desperately trying to keep the cumbersome machine on its feet, sirens went off, warning Rick that the armour had been breached, destroying one of its heat sinks. "Ah come on Bob!" He swore to himself. "You can't keep rolling good all day!" It was like some malevolent god was playing dice with his fate.

With a flair of jets, a second mech landed by the Falconer, Opening fire into its flank as soon as it was down. A trio of lasers tore into the enemy mech's side, tearing into its armour and shredding the artificial muscles in its arm and leg.

"And sometimes fortune favours me." He commented as he recognised the mech; Lambchop's Wraith, battered but still functional. Staggering, the Falconer turned to fire on the newcomer, its damaged leg dragging as it tried to move.

"Thanks for the help there, buddy." Rick shouted out. "So now let's auger this baby in." The Awesome opened up with all four of its PPCs as the Falconer again turned to face him, responding with its own weapons; while both the PPC and Gauss Rifle struck home, Rick's weapons more then balanced the equation. The four beams tore into the damaged mech, tearing apart its damaged structure. It flared white-hot as his fire tore through its reactor shielding, while the damaged leg was ripped apart at the knee.

Tottering, with smoke pouring from its multiple wounds, the Falconer simply collapsed, crashing cockpit-first into the ground. "Toasty." Rick finished, a certain degree of satisfaction in his voice.

Boh grunted as he fired a blast from his battle suit's laser into an enemy suit. The shot struck the red and grey suit in the chest, the enemy simply crashing backwards to the ground, its pilot either dead or incapacitated.

Around him, the sole squad of the Horde of Timmies left alive were engaged in combat with a similarly-equipped enemy squad. As near as Boh could tell, the rest of the unit had gone to the bottom of Lake George with whatever calamity had claimed the Ribald Sea Creatures. This development had not made him happy, to say the least.

"Kill them all!" He shouted out, his compact frame burning with anger. "Slaughter every last damn one of them! Rip them from their suits and crush their skulls with your bare hands if you have to, but I want them dead!" He was beyond tactics or other such considerations at this point. He just wanted to kill them all.

Turning around, he snapped off a shot at another of the enemy battle suits; this one went wide, searing into the landscape behind it. The enemy were using either the same model of battle armour as he was or, at the very least, one that was very close. Furthermore, they seemed to be very skilled at using them. This meant that, in theory, the two groups were evenly matched.

However, Boh had one advantage. His rage, his anger and his hatred fuelled him, driving him ever onwards. It gave him strength and power, advantages that his hapless foes could not possibly match. He didn't care for anything else; all that mattered was the destruction of his enemy.

And then he saw something that changed all that. Glancing past one of the enemy suits, he saw Silmaris' black and blue Falconer being pummelled by enemy fire. Mortally wounded, the mech staggered and then collapsed.

"Silmaris!" He shouted out; all of a sudden, all that rage and anger was gone, replaced with a truly, desperate, gut-wrenching fear. Forgetting all else, he fired his suit's jets, abandoning the rest of his squad and instead bounding towards the downed mech. "Hang on, I'm coming!" He knew there were enemy mechs nearby, specifically the ones that had destroyed Silmaris' mech. He also knew that he didn't care about the risk.

Landing by the damaged mech, he could immediately see that it had fallen forward, managing to pretty much land on its cockpit. His heart racing, he sprinted over to the cockpit of the downed machine. Noting the damage, he grasped the base of the canopy frame and pulled back on it with his suit's claw.

With every ounce of his strength, amplified by the suit's musculature, he pulled back the canopy. At first, it refused to move, but eventually yielded under his strength and determination; the frame snapping and the canopy shattering open.

Inside, Silmaris was still in his command couch, held firmly in place by his safety harness. Boh could also see that he was injured; a gash across his forehead was bleeding profusely, while more blood stained his cooling vest.

"Boh?" He croaked out, his eyes blinking open.

"Shh." Boh replied. "Save your strength. I'm going to get you out of here." He raised his suit's claw, waving it in the general direction of Silamaris' harness. With enough force to rend mech armour, the fingers snapped together, then released as Boh reached for the harness.

He shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. "Don't-"

"I'm not going to leave you behind!" He shot back, his voice full of sudden anger. "Remember what we said? We would always be there for each other. We would always look after each other. And we would never, ever leave the other behind. That's what I'm doing, Silmaris. We may be evil, greedy, stupid people, but there are things that still matter to me. Like you."

"It's not that." He spluttered out as he frantically squirmed in his seat. "You can't get me out of here, Boh. It's-"

And then the dreadful realisation hit him. Silamris' wounds were a lot deeper then they seemed. He was trapped in his mech; moving him would likely kill him. Yet, leaving him here would be just as much a death sentence. He swallowed loudly, sweat pouring down his brow as he tried to digest the enormity of what had happened.

"This..." He gasped. "This..." Deep down, he could feel it. Greif turning into rage, burning hotter then a thousand suns. They had all but killed Silmaris, and left him to die. And now they would have to pay.

"You bastards!" He shouted out in a cry of primal rage. "You murdering bastards! I will kill you for what you've done! I'll make you pay for your crimes! For what has happened here today, each of you will die a thousand horrible deaths!"

"but-" Silmaris squeaked out, his words seemingly unheard.

Glancing out from the wrecked cockpit, Boh sighted the enemy Awesome that had downed Silmaris' mech. "BASTARDS!" He shouted out as he opened fire with the suit's small laser, the shot slicing into the mech's back. "I'll make you pay! I'll make you all pay!"

Slowly, the Awesome turned around, looming over the downed machine. "All I meant to say" Silmaris whispered, his voice filled with fear. "Was that your claw coulda hurt me, and I was going to get out myself and-"

"DIE!" Boh shouted out, firing another shot. The laser sliced into the Awesome's leg, seemingly doing little more then scuffing the paint. In return, the massive Mech levelled its four PPCs at his suit, then fired.

"DIE!" He yelled again as the world around him and Silmaris was enveloped in a wall of blue electricity.

Eddie pushed his Bandersnatch forward, charging at the head of the Wild Funky Dogs. Following Reven's Black Knight, he had been pushing towards the centre of the enemy formation, driving towards their heart. The enemy's forces had been seemingly thrown into confusion by their tactics, and were desperately trying to regroup. The time to strike was now, while they had the initiative.

"What can I do for you, little lady?" He called out over the command channel, his voice almost radiating confidence.

"Clear me a path to their commander." Reven shot back.

"Anything for you, chicky-babe." He replied, grinning as he did.

"Why thank you, mister Jackson." Reven finished. "See you soon!"

He continued to smile as his mech advanced. Ahead of him loomed a blocky Cerberus; an assault mech with a powerful, long-ranged bite. While it outmassed his mech, he had a strange confidence, like he could take it down on his own. Dropping his targeting reticule over the enemy machine, he opened up with the Bandersnatch's arsenal. The twin LBX autocannons spat fragmentation rounds at the enemy machine, sandblasting away armour. No sooner had they hit home then his three missile launchers released their loads, arcing towards the enemy mech. Its anti-missile system spluttered to life, swatting down one of the flights, however, the other two hit home, blasting more armour off the enemy machine.

"Yeah! That's the magic!" He called out. The Cerberus turned to fire back, its twin Gauss Rifles spitting hypervelocity shells at his mech. One slammed into the Bandersnatch's shoulder, crushing narly a ton of armour, while the second went wide. Staggered, the mech none the less remained upright, advancing on its foe. "Gonna take more then that to take Eddie L. Johnson down, sucker!"

As it turned to face him, a quartet of lasers speared at the Cerberus; one struck home, red darts slagging armour off the chest. However, the shot seemed to grab the mech's attention, turning to face the newcomer. Glancing around, Eddie could see the source of the attack. One of Reven's mechs, a blue and bronze Axeman was advancing alongside his mech.

"Hey bro." He began. "What say you and me take this cat to town?"

"Sounds good to me." The gruff voice of the Axeman pilot shot back.

"Groovy." He opened up again as he continued to advance, the combination of missiles and cannon again stripping more armour from the enemy mech. The Axeman contributed its fire to the destruction, the lasers tearing away more armour from the machine. Seemingly at a loss, the Cerberus' mechwarrior returned fire at Eddie; this time, both cannons hit home, blasting armour off his mech. The Bandersnatch swayed on it legs, but again, Eddie was able to keep it upright.

"What a rush." He gasped out, then laughed. "But ya gotta do a lot more then that to beat ol' Eddie Johnson!" Thumbing a selector as his mech continued to advance, he switched over to the solid cannon rounds rather then the fragmentation ones he'd been using. "You eat lead, dig?" The two Autocannons opened up, blasting into the Cerberus' hull, tearing apart its already depleted armour. The quartet of lasers in the arms followed up, slicing into its already ravaged torso.

The Cerberus again returned fire, giving as good as it got. One of the rounds skipped off his damaged arm, crushing the remaining structure and snapping several of the metal bones; however, the limb held. The second slammed into his torso; crushing armour. A sudden spike of heat suggested that the round had damaged his rectory shielding, his damage displays confirming this.

However, Eddie didn't care. Instead, the damage seemed to only embolden him. For the first time in years, he felt like himself. In the heart of the battle, bearing down on an enemy mech, giving it all he had. This is what it had been like for so long; before the Word took away all he cared about. The losses he had suffered had left him broken and hollow, tearing away so much of his being.

And now he was back.

"You gonna pay for that, sucker!" He shouted out, his voice filled with excitement. These mercenaries were not the Word; however, they chose to work for them. So while they were not the monsters who had tried to destroy him and his men, they damn well were close enough. If he could take them down, then it would go some way towards redressing what he had lost. "Hey Axeman. Let's get this bastard."

"I'm with ya." The Axeman's pilot shot back. The mech charged towards the Cerberus, opening up with its arsenal of weapons. The lasers stripped armour off its chest before the massive Autocannon spat shells, tearing through armour and structure. The Cerberus flared an angry orange on Eddie's display, suggesting that it's shielding had also been comprised.

Despite the assault, the Cerberus' mechwarrior seemed to remain calm throughout. The mech backed up, concentrating fire on the Axeman that suddenly loomed so large in front of it. The twin gauss rifles again spat shells; one clipping the Axeman's leg, while the other slammed into its left arm, pulverising the limb. A pair of pulse lasers added to the damage, driving into the mech's chest. The Axeman staggeredunder the blows, stumbling to its battered knee. Taking advantage of its situation, the Cerberus continued to back up, putting as much distance between itself and its attackers.

"Oh no ya don't." Eddie snapped. "Nobody dies on my watch, and ain't nobody gonna get away with trying to kill 'em neither!" The Bandersnatch powered forwards, opening fire with its cannons and lasers again, the shells and beams blasting into the Cerberus' already damaged body and arms. The right arm was simply severed, crashing to the ground by its side, while more rounds slammed into its weakened torso.

Damaged, the Cerberus stumbled and staggered under the onslaught. Weakly, it raised its remaining limb, firing back at Eddie; the round slammed into the Bandersnatch, repaying the damage done by tearing apart the mech's already battered arm. The mech spun under the force of the blow, but still remained upright.

Seemingly unconcerned about losing half his firepower, Eddie levelled the remaining limb at the wounded assault mech. "You eat floor, dig?" He called out as he opened fire. His shell struck home, Slamming straight into the mech's heart, capitalising on the damage already done. Chunks of the mech's structure spilled out as it staggered forwards, crashing to its knees.

Then, with a burst of fire, the head erupted outwards as the ejection seat fired, rocketing the mechwarrior clear of his doomed machine. Deprived of its pilot, the Cerberus simply fell forward, its battered body slamming to the ground with a thunderous crash.

"Not bad, huh?" Eddie commented as the battered Axeman struggled to his feet. "Ah yeah, the magic's back."

And then he saw another mech looming over the corpse of its fallen counterpart. Bigger then the Cerberus, it had a blocky torso dominated by a pair of massive cannons. Painted a stark white, it stood out in the middle of the chaotic battlefield.

"Is that-" Eddie called out, but was cut off as the mech opened fire with its two massive cannons. The first smashed into his mech's chest, sending it reeling. The second slammed into the head, sheering away its left side, crushing the cockpit instantly.

Danae watched as the decapitated Bandersnatch collapsed, a feeling of satisfaction evident on her face. While it was not Reven's mech that she had felled, it meant that she had one less ally and, as such, there was one less obstacle to Danae's delivery of the justice that her traitorous ex-lieutenant so richly deserved.

The destruction of Torch's mech had been a setback; the second-heaviest one in the unit, its firepower would have been useful in ensuring Reven's defeat. Furthermore, it meant that she now had one less contingency against any treachery Stan was planning. She knew that Torch was above suspicion and, as such, she had chosen him to serve as her insurance and, if needs be, eliminate Stan.

However, at the same time, he had bought her an advantage. He had helped reduce the enemy numbers, and expose her true target. Reven was running short of bodies she could use to shield herself from Danae's justice; sooner or later, she would have to answer for her crimes.

As the Bandersnatch collapsed, another mech rose behind it. An Axeman, she recognised the mech as being piloted by one of Reven's men. The enemy mech charged forwards, firing its massive autocannon as it went. The torrent of shells struck Danae's mech, tearing armour off its flank.

"Pathetic" She snarled as she fired back; the Fafnir rocked as the twin Heavy Gauss Rifles fired, sending hypervelocity shells at the oncoming mech. The shots struck home, ripping through the Axeman's right torso, blasting it apart in a hail of debris and sending its right arm flying off, still gripping its axe. The mech staggered, then its head was wreathed in a halo of fire as the ejection system fired, lifting the whole head up and away from the stricken wreckage.

"Reven!" She called out as the Axeman's body crashed to the ground. "No more hiding behind your treacherous dogs. This ends now!"

(Danae vs Reven)

(Stan vs Authority vs Konstantinov)

(RUN AWAY!)

(Reven gets to gloat before running)

(Mimetic Badarses vs Monty)

(Final gloating; why did you do it?)