Hey guys, August here, with yet another rewrite, and pretty much re-imagining of my story Titans of Remnant. This story is actually going to be part of one big AU. This is just one part of really just a shit-ton of games, Call of Duty, Battlefield, Titanfall, Halo, etc. and other things, all coming to Remnant to ultimately change up certain aspects of the plot. (Which is basically what I end up doing in all of my other stories anyway.)

Oh, and a quick guide.

Bold text at absolute top or bottom of the chapters: Author introduction and/or conclusion

Bold text in these (): Author's note to clarify or something of that sort

Bold text: Something important

Italic text in these ' ': Thoughts, Telepathy

Italic text: text from letters or something of those sort, names of inanimate objects(Examples: Crescent Rose, Gambol Shroud), flashbacks, emphasis

Normal Text: Normal story

Grunts.

The most expendable units of both the IMC and Militia. Deployed en' masse in almost every battlefield and nothing more then a nuisance to the infamous 'Pilots'. Quite frankly, SGT. Excel Rodriguez wondered why they were deployed anymore, they should just devote their resources to more of the elite known as Pilots. Then again, He was an IMC groundpounder. It was above his pay-grade to ask those sorts of questions anyhow. Well, it used to be. Now, he was dead.

Demeter.

The place where he died. The final battle. The 'Grand Finale' if you will. Even if the Militia were to win, and the dropships were to come, they would've only picked up the pilots if they were to make it. They would've left all of the grunts behind to suffer against the Militia. He honestly didn't know what would've happened if he was captured by the Militia. They would've probably would've done the same thing the IMC would've done. Tried to squeeze every last bit of information out of them, then most likely shot them, just like the IMC. Maybe they would've asked for the soldier to join them. He remembered receiving an encrypted transmission from an old friend from boot camp that, at that time, received news was captured, but there Anderson was, with a letter and a picture. The picture was of the youth smiling in what seemed to be a prep room before an assault, he was already changed into the armor of the Militia too. The letter read that Excel should defect and join him, call in a few favors and maybe get stuck in the same squad. Of course, the IMC grunt didn't, and as far as he knew, they weren't paid and he wasn't exactly sure if there wasn't a gun pointed at the back of the man's head when he took the picture. However, that's besides the point, he now floated in the inky black that was his mind-numbing existence. He really didn't know what he expected from the afterlife, but he sure as hell didn't know this was what he would now be doing. He was about to repeat his constant cycle of the same thoughts again before he heard distinct whirring. His visor flickered to life as a stream of rolling text temporarily absorbed his vision before being replaced with the words ENGAGING EMERGENCY REBOOT. Elements of his HUD appeared, displaying his weapon, his trusty modified Kraber-AP Sniper Rifle, Distant Fury, along with its ammo. His sidearm also showed as well, the rugged B3 Wingman that has served faithfully for a long time. There would be a cold day in Hell when he decided not to bring his babies with him into combat. He could hear flickering and a light suddenly erupted in the center of his vision, blinding him. With not much left he could do, he shielded his eyes.

Excel awoke in a clearing of soft grass. He could only tell that from his rolled up sleeves of his uniform. He tried to move his head but pain shot up his spine, forcing him to continually stare at the soft blue sky. He didn't care enough to wonder just how he got there, nor how he could feel anything. He was too tired, too pained to think. He wanted to close his eyes, but the flashing red on his minimap told him that would not be happening. From the extremely heavy stomping coming towards him, he could only conclude a single thing. Titan. As soon as that conclusion came to mind, a Stryder-class loomed over him, sporting the dark browns, greens, and oranges of the Militia, casting a shadow over his still form. "Pilot Reefa, this individual's signatures show that he is alive"

The hatch on the front opened and a female pilot crouched on the lower half of the ramp, looking over him, but not speaking. She jumped down after several minutes, and peered closer. Reefa then grabbed Excel by the vest and hauled him into a sitting position on the grass, eliciting a pained gasp form the grunt as blinding pain enveloped the entire upper half of his body, the pilot letting out a mere sigh before clicking a button on the side of soldier's helmet, bringing up the visor, and lightly lowering part of the mask that covered his nose and mouth, then she reached to her belt and unhooked an object from it. A canteen, which she lifted to the barely conscious grunt's mouth and let the water drift down Excel's throat, which he now realized was quite parched. She then pulled it away and hooked it to her belt. She placed her hand on his back and grabbed the front of his vest before slowly hoisting him up on his feet. He stumbled a little before regaining his footing, the pain having just been an extremely short-lived torture, much to his relief. The pilot nodded and she climbed back to the top of the titan and sat inside, the hatch closing. The XO-16 machine gun that was previously hefted onto the right shoulder fell into the left hand of the titan. "Grunt; Pilot Reefa would like you to follow us." The titan spoke with a heavily monotone and robotic male voice (Think BT-7274)

"And why should I do that."

"Your odds of surviving are considerably higher if you join us." Just as the machine stated that, gunfire erupted in the distance. There was the signature clank of a 40mm cannon along with the small arms fire of various infantry based weapons. An explosion flowered in the distance, rocking the land as it reached into the sky. Both titan and grunt made their way over in haste, disappearing into the treeline that the grunt just now noticed.

They made it just in time to see an IMC Ogre hurtle a large black mass through a tree, causing a bloom of dirt and shards to erupt into the air, only to see, what Excel now realized, was a bear-looking creature, get back up again to charge forward only to be transformed into a cloud of red mist courtesy of a 40mm sent its way by the same Titan. Several IMC and Militia Grunts were also dealing with similarly designed creatures, although they were smaller and sleeker, more like a wolf then anything. One of the grunts, a Militiaman, swapped his rifle for a Sidewinder before utterly obliterating the frontline of the creatures. As he ducked behind a slight incline to reload, a creature lunged past, twisting its body to face the grunt as it hit the ground. It was about to perform another lunge to gut the grunt, but the Stryder stomped down on it into a fine paste. Excel took his time, climbing into one of the trees to set up a sniping point. As he reached the canopy, he froze as he found it was already taken by a militiaman, holding a Longbow DMR and already firing it off. "What're still looking at me for?! Go!" The militiaman pointed to the next branch over.

Excel hopped onto the opposite branch before grabbing onto the tree and twisted around, landing his feet squarely on the thick branch. He looked to his left, opposite of the Grunt, and found a camera lazily covered in leaves. It blinked red occasionally, telling it was active. He ignored it, but sincerely hoped they were slaughtering a wildlife preserve or something. He leaned against the tree and took aim from out of the leaves. The situation was looking rather GRIMM. More of these creatures were advancing in hoards, and he could see some... 'Wait, are those, giant scorpions?'

Indeed they were, although they were hindered by their lesser brethren from reaching the grunt's quickly. He could see and even hear the pings as the weapons below couldn't pierce the thick armor. Let's fix that with a (controlled shock) AP round. The loud report echoed across the field, temporarily snuffing out the sounds of battle, before they resumed. Excel watched as the AP round barreled its way through the scorpion and out the other end, but somehow was still standing. Another shot made sure that it falls. He aimed for the second out of the three that were there. He fired, cycled the round, and fired again in quick succession, killing another. The last was considerably smarter then the rest, and changed directions for the tree where the shots were coming from, however, it was forced to rethink as it was pelted by the mini-rockets from one of the grunts on the ground. It turned to face the nuisance, only to find it getting a faceful of Titan fist. The Ogre lifted the beast with one hand, and then used its other to stop the massive beast from struggling too much, then using the scorpion to wipe the floor, quite literally, with the rest of the creatures. It then grabbed it by its stinger and lifted it far over its chassis and smashed it into the ground, creating a considerably sized crater with the makeshift club. The Ogre then unhooked its 40mm and aimed the weapon into the head of the creature, before unloading. One thump after another. Soon, a massive hole was in the center of the creature. The creatures they were fighting suddenly gained some sense of self-preservation, fleeing into the trees. Pilot Reefa was handling one last creature, much like that bear-thing from earlier. The Stryder tore it in half and threw it on the floor. One of the grunts on the hill started laughing, slapping the shoulder of one of his peers, who then proceeded to join them, following with all the grunts laughing ground-side. They started chatting with each other as Excel and the other Militiaman climbed down, or jumped. They both noticed that a silence had settled. They looked over and saw the titans facing each other, a tense standoff heavily present. The grunts drifted towards their respectful titans. The IMC grunts to the Ogre, and the militiamen to the Stryder. The Ogre stuck its hand out as a static speaker spoke from the Ogre, "Truce?"

"My Pilot greatly appreciates the proposition and accepts." The Stryder stated, looking at the hand for a few minutes before jerkily reached its hand out and shook it. "What, your pilot can't say it himself?"

"My pilot prefers to be like that for personal reasons, and my pilot is female." The Stryder responded, "I suggest we soon find- Contact detected." The Stryder unslung its XO-16 and spun around, aiming at the ship that seemed to come out of nowhere. "Hey, IMC, you been developing some new form of dropship?" One of the militiamen shouted as they drew their weapons.

"No, have you?" The others responded, also aiming at the ship. "Wait, the hell did the bodies go?!" One of the grunts shouted, prompting everyone but the titans to look around and notice the bodies disappeared.

"The fuck?!" The grunts started clammoring, wondering what happened to the corpses, and completely forgetting the dropship hurtling towards them. And they wonder why they were placed so low on the danger list.

By the time the airship hovered over them, the grunts were pointing their weapons in every direction besides the airship that hovered over the, apparently convincing themselves that the attackers were hidden somewhere, watching. A quick shout from the one of the titans brought their attention back to the more immediate threat.