Chapter Three:

Audio Log 2 - Umbra

Sam is dead.

I didn't know him for very long, and yet… in that brief time, I regarded him as a brother before he passed. I still do.

I'm not sure if his team of Pilots will meet me at the extract point. Or how they'll react to a Vinson Dynamics simulacrum Piloting SC in Sam's place. I'm not even sure if they'll accept me on the evacuation ship without Sam to wave me through.

… All I know is, I need to do what he asked of me before he died. I need to get myself to the Militia fleet, and I need to find his sister. Jules was her name, I think. Another simulacrum, just like me.

... Or, a little like me. Unlike the original simulacrum body, my build seems to be suited to adapt a more versatile sort of combat - I'm definitely still agile enough to act as a Pilot, but all my torso wiring is almost completely covered in titanium plates, and my limbs seem to be a little more wavy and thick in design.

I've also discovered the ability to phase shift, which is fairly standard for combat simulacrums; except that I can stay in the other dimension for almost a full minute.

That's not even the best equipment piece I found. I was examining the flexibility of my left arm, when I nearly slashed a hole through the cockpit interior… with a plasma blade.

It seems that my model is designed to reserve and store energy as efficiently as possible, and a large portion of that energy, over time, can be channeled into a reserved plasma blade that comes out from the top of my wrist, about 12 or so inches out.

I didn't have much time to take a closer look at this "plasma blade." From my guess, an average charge would allow the blade to last roughly 8 or 10 seconds, max.

Seeing a weapon that strong made me wonder what else Vinson Dynamics might have packed inside me to make me a better killing machine. The blade was interesting, but yet, also a little terrifying.

If I end up giving this technology to the wrong kind of person… what sort of a monster could I unleash?

End Log

The day wore along like the slow ticking of time. It dragged by like the heat of the sun above, and Umbra was quite glad that he was inside the air conditioned Titan cockpit instead of out in the hot weather, even if he was a simulacrum.

They were 2 kilometers out from the pinpointed extraction point on the map, just up north. They were in perhaps the deepest parts of the Agricultural District, with the farmland and the occasional abandoned, wrecked barn stretching out as far as the eye - or optic - could see.

Gunshots could be heard loud and clear. SC, as usual, didn't say anything, but she instead alerted Umbra of nearby IMC forces through a notification on her on-board HUD. Her constant silence still had a tendency to throw Umbra off, but he just kept reassuring himself, remembering that Sam specifically pointed that trait out to him before dying.

So they're expecting a Militia extraction here.

I guess that either means they got lucky, or someone tipped them off.

That was a situation to confront later. For now, Umbra needed to clear the area to allow for a Militia transport to fly in safely.

A squad of about 6 IMC Riflemen walked out from behind a shattered barn house, onto the dirt road. Two of them started backing up, aiming at SC with AT-SMR launchers frantically.

Umbra boosted his Titan forward, crushing two of the grunts into a bloody pulp on the ground. He skillfully picked up two more soldiers into his vortex shield, and launched them at deadly speeds towards the two grunts armed with anti-Titan launchers. The flying bodies knocked one of them about ten or so meters down the road, effectively killing them, but one last soldier remained, and they managed to get a shot into SC before Umbra could turn and smash them to a useless pancake of flesh and bone all over the soil.

The shields were gone from the short barrage of micro-missiles, and Umbra could see some warning symbols in the corner of his HUD telling him there was minor hydraulic damage.

"Alright SC," he said to his Titan, focusing his attention on the two dropships full of IMC soldiers that were coming his way, "guess it's time to stop screwing around, huh?"

He took her lack of a direct response as an answer.

SC's sensors detected a total of at least 24 enemy Rifleman, of which a third or so of them likely had anti-Titan weaponry. He also took note of 2 Reapers, which he decided he would focus on taking down first.

The extraction point was in the center of a grove of tall-rising trees and several similar looking barns that rose about three stories high. One of the barns had part of its roof caved in from an explosion, and nearly the entire building was charred black from a fire that had long since died out. Umbra suspected that the environment would be much worse than just that by the time he was extracted.

He rounded a corner in the dirt road, coming out from behind a thicket of trees that were tall enough to conceal SC's chassis visually. The first squad of IMC attacked, backed by a Reaper. Umbra boosted to one side when a barrage of micro-missiles were shot at him. He caught the missiles in his vortex shield as he dodged, and he used them on the Reaper, blasting them at the white-plated automaton.

The squad of 4 IMC all started to run, and they were gunned down by a single spray line of 20mm rounds from SC's Chain Gun.

Umbra started to jog SC down what was a rough dirt roundabout that formed inside the circlet of barns that were in the grove. He stopped to take aim at the next Reaper, which was accompanied by a team of about 8 IMC Riflemen.

Umbra fired a burst of salvo missiles at the group of grunts, which blasted 5 of them to pieces and sent the rest scrambling for cover like fleeing rats. The Reaper rushed the Militia Titan, attempting to flank it and get a few lucky hits into her lower hydraulics. Umbra lunged out with an outstretched Titan arm and caught the Reaper by the base of it's leg, where he picked it up, turned it sideways, and slammed it against the ground as hard as he could. The machine popped and made a sizzling sound, it's backside cracked and damaged from the blunt-force action. It still struggled in SC's grasp however, so Umbra bashed it into the hard ground again to ensure it's destruction before flinging the remains of it's tattered metal body at a group of three hostile Riflemen who were trying to run from one barn to the next.

The destroyed Reaper caught all of them, crushing them under it's weight. Whatever they were trying to reach, Umbra made sure it would never be used, since he started firing down on the barn with salvo missiles and his Chain Gun until it was little more than a burning, smoking wreck.

Communication chatter picked up on the IMC channel. Umbra listened intently.

"This is Blisk. All available Apex mercenaries, converge on the location I've marked on our HUDs. The 17thArmored Footmobile reported a Monarch class Militia Titan assaulting them at the Slavo barns."

He sounded surprisingly emotional for a hardened mercenary, perhaps even angry. Umbra made a mental note to keep in mind the Apex Predator's arrival at some point.

There was a flash on his HUD, warning him on an incoming titanfall. If Umbra had to guess, he would assume it was either an IMC Pilot or a Vinson Dynamics mercenary coming to claim him, since it would have been nearly impossible for Apex to reach him that quickly.

There were a few seconds where a bright flash in the sky became distinguishable with the tedious trembling of the world all around the farmland.

The rumbling ended with a world-shattering crash as a Titan made contact with the ground, fresh out of titanfall. It was an Ion class, and bore the classic gray-white coloration of the IMC.

Umbra raised the Chain Gun to it and opened fire. The hostile Titan ducked behind cover, and Umbra guided SC in pursuit after the Ion a little recklessly, stomping over a couple fleeing IMC soldiers and crushing them.

He lost sight of the Ion for a split second in the trees. When he came around the corner, clumsily, it burst out from behind cover of one of the tall-rising barns and starting firing with it's Splitter Rifle.

SC's shields, which had just finished recharging, were wiped away by the close-range barrage of laser damage almost instantly. Umbra charged forward and tackled the Ion, sending their massive Splitter Rifle tumbling across the dirt, but his Titan had already paid the price with the loss of her cooling system. Usually, a Titan could function just fine without a cooling system, but it meant that they couldn't boost out of the line of fire or run about too much, in case the core overheated.

Since Umbra couldn't technically run away without frying SC's core to a crisp, he instead continued to attack the IMC Titan in close-up hand to hand.

The Ion flashed a heavy, mechanical cut fist out at the Militia Titan's hatch, but SC managed to duck and dodge in time. Using an opportunity he saw, Umbra grabbed one of the Ion's legs while they were in mid-swing, and he pulled back on it with as much force as possible.

The IMC Titan was caught off balance, and it ended up on it's side, dazed for a split second or two. In that moment, SC clambered atop the opponent and, with a firm grip, she punctured a hole in the cockpit and flung the IMC Pilot out of his chair, about thirty or so meters into the air. While he was falling back down, SC looked up, aimed, and slung her fist out, turning the Pilot into a spray of bloody pulp that sprinkled back down to the farmland.

There were only a few members of the 17th Armored Footmobile that had the misfortune of being stationed at that location, and after seeing one of their Pilots die, they turned and ran, scattering into the fields and the occasional sparse shrubbery. Despite the fact that they might bring reinforcements, Umbra decided to let them flee without chasing them down.

After that, the place seemed almost… deserted. After Umbra was done using SC's chassis to push and move all the corpses into a pile in a field, so he could burn them, everything was eerily quiet.

Too quiet.

It was like the calm before the storm - and that metaphor would be correct, if Apex Predators were really on their way. All I can do I pray that someone picks me up first.

Umbra disembarked SC and scaled on of the higher rising barns out of the five or so. He looked over the horizon of the long running Agricultural District, but saw nothing spare the occasional house or cluster of trees.

He jumped off the roof, landing on top of SC to inspect her for damage. From what he remembered, Monarch Titans had their cooling systems running all throughout the chassis, through tubes that connected to a motor pumping the coolant. It was likely that one of the tubes had been exposed in the battle, and ultimately damaged, which was why the system wasn't working properly.

Umbra's hypothesis was confirmed when he looked over one of SC's large shoulders and caught site of a loose, broken tube that was spewing flat-colored coolant out of it, all over the ground.

Great. Even if I can patch that up, I've probably lost too much coolant for it to make a difference anyways.

Umbra opened the top hatch into the cockpit, and then stopped halfway into the chassis to pat SC on the chassis gently. "Alright SC, let's see what we can do for you."

He sat there, sitting partly through the hatch for a few moments, hoping for a response. To his surprise, SC lifted her arm and gave him a small thumbs up.

It was only a minor gesture of social recognition, but it was certainly an improvement from complete silence. Satisfied, Umbra chuckled before disappearing into the cockpit to take control, closing the top hatch behind him.

Both SC and him watched the grove area intently for about 15 minutes, Chain Gun raised and at the ready for the arrival of Apex Predators. It occurred to Umbra the likelihood that he would either be captured or destroyed if the entire mercenary group found him, but he tried his best to stay positive, telling himself that he'd be long extracted before anyone reached Slavo barns. Assuming the Militia will even take me.

All he could do was hope, since really, that was all he had by then. Hope, and some form of gritty determination that he couldn't explain.

SC reported movement to the west, about a kilometer out from where they were, however she didn't mention that the movement was hostile. Still, Umbra directed her towards the edge of the Slavo property, where he stared out into the slightly foggy distance.

Sure enough, he counted three Titans walking along a winding dirt path towards the extraction point - a Ronin, an Ion, and a Scorch. They definitely weren't Apex Predators however, or even IMC. Instead, the Titans bore the coloration and the markings of the Militia, and when Umbra looked even closer he saw the blue-white-black emblem of the Warmonger Corps, which was one of the many subdivisions of the SRS. It was the same emblem that Umbra had observed on Sam's uniform sleeve, as well as SC's chassis.

This is Sam's squad, most likely.

What will I tell them when they find out I'm not him? If I tell them the truth, would they believe me?

He could hear a buzzing static sound coming from the Militia comm channel; Umbra had almost forgotten he took the link from Sam's helmet before burying it with him. The static was reduced to a hum within seconds, and then it dissipated away, replaced completely by a distinct feminine voice. It would have sounded AI, had it not a level of personality and unique form to it.

"Sam, are you there? It's Jules. We caught your distress signal while we were looking for you in District 12, you alright?"

Dammit.

At a loss for words, Umbra simply stood there in his Titan, watching them approach. He knew he was escaping the inevitable, but he still desperately clung to the impossible desire that he would find the magic response to keep Sam's squad from shooting first, then asking questions later.

"Sam," Jules said again through the radio, "is your radio down or something? Respond."

She sounded genuinely concerned, which for some reason gave Umbra a feeling of guilt in his mechanical insides(If a robot could physically feel that).

It was a meaningless sort of guilt from his perspective, since he knew logically he couldn't have done anything to save her brother.

Or could I have?

Maybe if I'd kept a closer eye on him during the day. Maybe if I'd tried another method of keeping the shrapnel out of him. Maybe…

The convoy of Titans was fast approaching by then, and was within a hundred meters of SC. Since the Monarch Titan wasn't likely to speak in any way, that pretty much left Umbra to explain everything on his own, which wasn't going to make the situation any easier. So let's just get this over with, then.

Umbra closed his optic for a moment, then opened it again. He took a deep-sounding breath, and then he got up from his seat, the front hatch opening slowly as he did so.

The group of Titans continued to stomp down the street. They obviously hadn't noticed a thing yet. They stopped, one by one, when they came around the corner of the path they were travelling on, leading them into the grove and towards the country-themed roundabout inside the loosely-packed barns.

The Ion raised their Splitter Rifle specifically at the black simulacrum as soon as they'd seen it sitting inside SC. The Scorch stopped in their tracks, and seemed to be debating what to do.

The Ronin-class Titan phase-dashed all the way over to SC, until it was within grabbing reach, and it stopped right in front of Umbra, close enough for him to jump on top of it assuming he used his jumpkit. The Ronin's hatch flipped open, and out stood a female Stim Pilot simulacrum, an R-201 in hand. She - who Umbra assumed to be Jules - raised her rifle at him, and he answered by raising his hands over his head in calm surrender.

"Jules," Umbra stammered, "I can explain." He tried to sound trusting, which was fairly difficult considering he was pretty sure his voice was programmed to sound deep and a little frightening.

She didn't respond right away, and Umbra thought it was likely because she couldn't find the right words. The other two Titans in her squad surrounded Umbra and SC, their weapons trained specifically on him, but not the Titan he was riding in.

There was only one way out of the situation now, and that was by talking his way out.

Umbra thought he could see Jules shaking, but his attention was diverted by her words a second later, which were bone-cuttingly cold and to the point.

"Tell me why the hell I shouldn't take your stupid tin head off those hideous shoulders, Pilot!"

So… was that a question, or just her anger talking?

Also, go ahead and shoot me. If I'm correct, and I'm made out of titanium, it'll take a heck of a lot more than a carbine to put me out of commission.

Subconsciously, he went back on his last thought; she could still get a lucky hit in between the plates, which might damage something.

He realized that she actually was waiting for a response, and he cursed at himself silently for his stupidity before quickly thinking of something to say.

"Because I didn't kill Sam."

"I don't believe you."

Umbra shrugged his dark coloured shoulders, hoping to show her just how serious he was.

"Alright then," he said, leaning back a bit into the cockpit, "don't believe me. But why else would I be in his Titan?"

She seemed determined to put the blame on him, since she was still quick to shout back at him. "Well you could've killed him or something, and then tricked Sierra into believing you didn't kill him! Why else would she let you control her?"

Sierra.

So they had a nickname for SC.

Good. Just calling her "SC" was getting a little bland.

He groaned in slight resignation, bending forward and placing a metal hand over his face, closing it around his optic. Jeez, I wish Sierra would actually do something to help me out here…

He sat back up, determined to try again to convince them of his innocence.

Thinking a little more out of the box, Umbra reached for the gray-blue scarf that was sitting around his neck stylishly. Jules kept her weapon raised valiantly, but when she saw what he was doing, it lowered just the tiniest bit, her guard thrown off at the sight of her brother's scarf.

The article of clothing even seemed to stir something in the rest of Sam's squad, because the Scorch and Ion Titan closed the circle on themselves a take a closer look at what was going on.

"Put… put that down!" Jules shouted, readjusting her aim on Umbra's triangle-shaped head. Umbra pretended that he didn't hear the order. He unwrapped the scarf from around him and held it, dangling, in a single arm. It fluttered and twisted a bit in the light breeze. Umbra could see Jules leaning forward a bit to stare at it, despite her obvious efforts to stop herself. It was right then that he thought of - what he considered - the perfect words to calm her down.

"He would have wanted you to have this. That's why I held onto it… he wanted me to tell you he was sorry."

She had completely lowered her weapon by then, and seemed to be staring at something else completely, something that was in her mind instead of in reality. Umbra jumped down onto the rough dirt below, taking care not to drop the scarf. He walked about half the distance from Sierra to Jules' Titan, where he waited patiently for her next action. He considered the possibility that she might just climb back in her Titan and crush him right there, but he tried his best to convince himself it was a risk worth taking.

He looked around, noticing that the other two Pilots had opened their hatches and were watching quite intently. One was a Tracker-class Pilot, and he slung a mastiff over his shoulders almost recklessly. The other was a heavy-set Cloak-class Pilot, and he toyed with a boomerang knife in one hand, with quite a bit of skill Umbra thought.

They all seemed neutral at this point, which Umbra was grateful for since they were much less likely to kill him, but he knew he wasn't completely done talking his way out of the situation yet.

It took a while, longer than anticipated, but Jules eventually snapped out of her strange trance-like stance, and she looked down at Umbra. He half expected her to start shooting at him then, but to his surprise, she suddenly propped her carbine in her seat and jumped down to the ground beside him.

"Jules, what are you...?" The Tracker Pilot started to talk, rather bluntly, but he seemed to stop himself for unknown reasons. Jules walked up to Umbra, slowly, stopping when she was about a meter away.

She paused for a long time, and Umbra was about to move the scarf even closer to her, when all of a sudden she took it gently from his loose grasp.

She looked down at it as it sat in her simulacrum hands. She made several low level noises, and if Umbra couldn't tell any better, he would have guessed that she would have been crying if she could.

Instead, she squeezed the scarf tightly in her grip, as if to say that she valued it now beyond anything, and she slowly bundled it up and put it in a thin pouch around her back.

"Is that all he told you?" she asked. She sounded more sorrowful than words could comprehend, and her voice, despite being tuned by her simulacrum existence, was cracked and unstable.

"No." Umbra muttered, choosing his following words carefully. "He told me to tell you that he loved you." He didn't mention the first part of the sentence he'd heard it from. He didn't dare.

"And keep my… keep my sister safe. Keep Jules safe."

Umbra wasn't ready to tell her that yet. Or anyone, for that matter. He would just have to find a way to do it discreetly for the time being.

The moment, which in Umbra's mind, was filled with appropriate solemnity for Sam, ended up being shattered by the Tracker Pilot, who decided to speak up again.

"Come on Jules, you don't serious believe bullshit, do you? He's IMC, look at the patch on his shoulder-"

"I'm not IMC."

Umbra found himself looking directly at the Pilot, his words piercingly strong. They were so strong, in fact, that the Pilot raised his hands in a gesture of pacifism before backing into his Titan a little.

"Listen, I don't know who the hell I was before I was a simulacrum." Umbra retorted, "But I refuse to associate myself with the IMC until I find out what they did to me and why."

A gray dot started to grow, slowly, in the distance, followed by two more dots. The shaped started to form as they came closer, and Umbra recognized the shapes as two Widow transports and a Crow escort. The ships caught the attention of the other Pilots, as well as the Titans, and the colors became clear enough to distinguish them as Militia.

Finally, the extraction ships are here. Personally, they couldn't have had better timing in his mind, although he suspected the others would disagree.

To his relief, Umbra's blatant response to the one Pilot's words seemed to shut up the group of them, because they said nothing to the black simulacrum as the escort convoy began it's descent, slowing down and spreading out to allow room for each other.

Both the Tracker and the Cloak-class Pilots disembarked their Titans and joined Jules at her side in front of Umbra. The Titans - including Sierra - all started making their way to the two Widow cargo ships that were sitting on standby near the road some ways down the grove.

As Sierra started to stomp away from Umbra, she looked back at him, her optic focusing on him specifically. He thought he saw her flash a look of reassurance and trust at him, but he couldn't be sure. Seconds later, she was gone with the other Titans, loaded onto the Widows which immediately started to take off into the late afternoon sky.

The Crow dropship was waiting on standby for the four Pilots, but even when Umbra was ready to leave, the others didn't seem eager to go.

Which is understandable, I guess. They all want to know they can trust me enough to let me on their ship, which would probably take me to the Militia fleet. It would be any IMC spy's dream to stumble across the location of an enemy fleet.

But Umbra wasn't a spy. He was an identity-confused prototype simulacrum with extreme lethal capabilities, who's only personal goal was to follow the commands of a dead Pilot who he hardly knew.

When he thought about it all at once, it all sounded jumbled and kind of incomplete. But it was all he had right then, and he had to find a way to show that to the Pilots in front of him.

Out of nowhere, to everyone's shock in the clearing, Jules spoke up, her voice still broken, but perhaps renewed with unnamed determination: "I trust him. Sierra wouldn't have let him live if he killed Sam." She abruptly pulled Sam's scarf out of her pouch and tossed it back to Umbra, who caught it hesitantly. "Actually, I'd reckon he'd want you to have it. Finders-keepers sort of thing."

Umbra nodded his appreciation, hastily wrapping the decorative clothing around his neck and shoulders again.

The Tracker Pilot looked as if he were about to say something again, but then the Cloak Pilot stepped forward, extending a hand out to be shook. The gesture was a bit formal, Umbra found, but he grasped the outstretched hand anyways, shaking it briefly. The Pilot grunted, and Umbra released his grip. Apparently he was still unaware of his strength capabilities.

"My name is Tacks," the Cloak Pilot said, curtly, "and this psycho across from me is Pedro… Just ignore him, okay? If Jules says she trusts you, that's all we need to hear to trust you too."

Tacks shot a look at Pedro, in a mock reprimanding sort of way. "Right, Pedro? "Right.""

"Hey, what the hell did I say?" Pedro demanded, turning around and jogging to the dropship. He obviously had a smile on his face underneath the helmet.

In response to Tacks' introduction, Umbra decided to formalize the occasional a bit with his own summary of himself.

"The name's Umbra. I have no idea who I am, and I'm here to help… probably."

Tacks chuckled, although Umbra couldn't tell if it was in amusement or nervousness. He gave a quick nod, then ran to the Crow to join Pedro.

Jules continued to stand there, for much longer than normal; in fact, it was taking her so long to get moving that umbra began to walk towards the ship first. He stopped as he was passing her, and he gave her a fast tap on the steel shoulder, which seemed to break her out of whatever distracted world she was stuck in.

"You coming?" he asked, gently. She nodded, and the two of them ran across the clearing to the dropship, hopping up the ramp into the seating area just as the ship started to climb altitude.