Armored Core: Burning Path Chapter 13: Broken Crown, an armored core fanfic

It's easy to lose track of time in combat.

It had happened so many times before.

You zone out. Stop thinking at the higher levels. Everything becomes instinct and reaction. A break left, feint right. Shift backwards, twist to one side.

Berlioz had stopped thinking years ago. Things were easier then. You could switch off, shut the world out. You could act and react without hesitation or doubt. There was no time to listen to begging, no space for guilt or shame.

Not on the battlefield.

There, in his own personal slice of hell, he stood head and shoulders above all. He towered over every soldier, standing on a mountain of bodies and blood. How could they compare? Who else would want to? Why would you wish to equal such evil?

On the battlefield, he added to that mountain in droves. Not one moment given to who died. To those he cut down. In the moment, nothing mattered but completing the objective. So long as that happened, Alicia could keep breathing.

He'd been lying in bed when the attack begun. While it felt like an age to him, the struggle in his head between giving up or fighting lasted only minutes. What made this time different, was that he could choose to fight.

This time, there was no gun to his head, no threat, to force him. In seven years this would be the first choice he could make, whether to fight or not. It could very well be his last. But that wasn't important.

On his way out, the Governor had called him, because Ravens couldn't pilot without a mission request. This mission was simple. An objective he could follow with a clear conscience and no regrets.

"Protect the evacuating transporters. Defend the Ark, at all costs."

Standing on the Ark's deck, he put every ounce of his being into that objective. There wasn't one fiber of his body that wasn't twisting and flexing with every motion.

Supplice was in a sorry state. It had barely been a day since going to Exavil, even working at a cruel pace, the repair crew assigned to his AC hadn't even managed to get through half of the issues that plagued the battered machine.

Multiple sections of armour plating missing, limb alignment was out, several monitors were non-functional, the cockpit was a complete state. All of these were issues he could cope with. The biggest problem was that the Kojima module on his generator wasn't running at 100%, meaning that it had to remain deactivated.

To access the generator and the Kojima module, the cockpit access hatch had been unsealed, meaning activating his Primal Armour was an instant death sentence as the radioactive particles would flood the cockpit in seconds.

All of these issues compounded onto his current situation, sliding side to side, firing whatever functional boosters he had left to evade incoming fire.

A single missile could put him out for good, a lucky gun run could render Supplice unable to move or fire. Everything was a threat.

No different to any other mission then.

However, with such a large mission area, it would be impossible for him to keep track of every possible target, particularly those lining up for strikes on the transporters.

This was where Fiona shined. The Governor, Fiona and several volunteers had remained onboard the Ark, still manning the command center. Sending the transporters through the airspace with the fewest enemies, directing the surviving anti-aircraft systems to engage priority targets.

Fiona's job was to call out targets for Berlioz. Supplice's limited capability to filter out the noise from the burning Ark and all the projectiles flying around meant he was effectively blind to whatever he wasn't looking directly at.

Between the two of them, they'd keep fighting to the bitter end, just like always.

"Two inbound on transporter five! Coming in headin-"

That was enough for him, he shot sideways across the deck, scattering rubble with Supplice's feet, twisting the body around enough that he could scan the sky. He saw them a split second later, both in formation, diving down towards the runway on the other side of the Ark.

He flicked his right rifle skyward, allowing the FCS to compensate for any offset or error firing while he pointed the left rifle towards another jet that was banking around, heading straight for him.

Squeezing both triggers only for a split second, he immediately switched targets, Supplice's joints groaning at the rapid change of direction, his own limbs on fire from constant movement.

"Target! Your three o'clock!"

"Seven o'clock, three incoming!"

"Heading three two two, with another coming at you from your six o'clock"

It was never ending. Again and again and again and again.

You fell into a pattern, the target was called or not even then just seen, then the shot was lined up and a handful of shells sent their way.

The heat from inside the cockpit was something he'd never experienced in a very long time. Supplice's climate control was considered a non-priority repair, meaning that he had no way of cooling down. If the GA fighters didn't kill him then he was going to sweat himself into oblivion.

The HUD warning regarding missile launches was pretty much useless at this point because the missile launches could be directed at literally anything, not just him. Although upon spinning to his right to swat a jet passing over his head out of the sky, he did spot three trails of smoke arcing towards him.

Had it been a single missile, he could have just adjusted Supplice's position to avoid it with as little excessive movement as possible. Three was another story, he couldn't risk the hit. He waited a second for the warheads to close on him, before deploying Supplice's countermeasures, two streams of flares spewing forwards while he threw the AC to one side.

He couldn't afford to do that much more, watching the missiles lose their lock, spiraling off after the burning balls of light. Supplice's BFF made flare system was certainly effective and very high quality, but it only carried sixteen charges, meaning he had to be absolutely sure he couldn't dodge.

Normally this wouldn't be a problem, for the most part he could allow his PA to disintegrate the missiles before they have a chance to detonate properly. However today without the PA to protect him, he had to rely entirely on Supplice's rapidly declining maneuverability.

"Fiona!" He shouted over the din, "How many more transporters?" The moment the last transporter was clear he could start thinking of how to get out of there himself.

"Three transporters remaining and that'll be everyone!"

"Alright fine, you better be o-"

A new blinking warning on his HUD caught his attention. Berlioz was suddenly very aware of how shaky his aim was.

FCS Failure, Overheating

Fuck.

"Shit! Fiona, my FCS has gone down, I am not fucking around now, get those goddamn transporters airborne!"

"Shut up and keep shooting we're working on it! Christ!"

He did just that. Firing angles needed to be calculated on the fly manually, with no computer assistance. There was no room for error, he didn't have the ammunition to waste. Supplice wasn't built for protracted combat, very few ACs were. They simply couldn't carry the ammo without taking bulky and vulnerable external magazine racks.

A jet took a lazy arc through the air in front of him, making the tracking easy for him. Only two shells were needed to reduce the aircraft to a fireball. -86

He could hear Fiona talking to someone else over the com channel, "What are you talking about? No one else is active out there! No that do- Let me look."

Whatever the hell it was he wished she'd deal with it quickly, trying to keep track of this many targets at once was making his already cramping stomach turn.

The pain was almost unbearable. If it had been any other day he'd have called it. The broken ribs inside him were grinding against each other. His arms and legs were slick with sweat and blood from the reopened cuts.

"Shit whatever the fuck it is I'll let him know" Fiona's voice suddenly became clearer. "Berlioz, we have an unknown AC inbound from directly above the Ark, it's a high altitude drop and we have no idea who it is."

Wait what? An unknown AC? That shouldn't be possible. All ACs were registered to the Ark and by extension those in active service were directly linked to the account of their pilot.

He panned Supplice's head about, trying to spot the AC approaching.

"Where the fuck is it now?!" Hopefully Fiona had a bead on it, "Can't you tell me anything about it or its pilot?"

Her voice was shaking somewhat, "Unknown AC is directly ahead of you, around five hundred meters. I don't even recognize the frame, I know nothing about this AC. Be fucking careful."

Making sure nothing was trying to kill him at that very moment, he focused his somewhat blurry vision forwards. Just like she said, there it was.

Jet black, just like Supplice, but with a pale turquoise glow from its optics. Its body was smooth and lithe, armour plating flowing from section to section without fault. Its arms and legs were surprisingly thin and angular. The head was sunk into the chest, its shoulders rising above giving it a hunchback appearance.

In its right hand was what looked like a Rayleonard medium machine gun, but the original metal framework along the bottom of the weapon had been stretched out to extend nearly a meter further, the lower edge now sharpened to a vicious serrated edge. Like someone had attached a twisted knife to it. In the left was a strange… rifle? He wasn't sure, it almost looked like the framework of a rifle that had been almost entirely hollowed out. He had no idea what it was.

On its right back mount was again, an unknown weapon that at the very least from what he could see had four barrels parallel barrels. Literally the only thing he could recognize was the radar array mounted onto its left back mount.

Nothing about this AC was familiar. He'd never seen the frame before, or most of its weapons. Was it some test type that hadn't been announced?

He'd never find out if he didn't at least ask. Berlioz opened a secondary com channel, attempting to open a direct line to the AC in front of him. Somewhat surprisingly, the channel was accepted with no delay. He paused for a moment, waiting to see if this unknown Raven would speak first.

"Berlioz!" He jumped in his seat as Fiona's voice blasted out of the speakers instead, pain lancing through his body. "Only two transporters left but the GA fighters seem to have backed off, they're… they're letting the transporters pass?" He didn't say anything back, clearly something was up here. If the GA attack had stopped for the time being, at the same time as this AC showing up, there had to be some kind of connection there.

He pushed the thought to the back of his head. It looked like he was going to have to speak first. Taking a deep breath, he said as clearly as possible, "Raven, we don't have you or your AC on record, could you please identify yourself?"

There was a pause of only a second, before a quiet chuckle came back through.

"I am no Raven. You of all people should know, Lamond."

That voice.

Berlioz's blood was replaced with ice as fear gripped him like a vice. He'd forgotten what this fear was like. This wasn't just being afraid, it wasn't a case of being scared. This was genuine, absolute terror.

He knew that voice.

No matter the mission, no matter the threat. Even when pushing himself to the absolute limit of his ability to stay alive, he'd never really felt terror. There had never been and enemy that could bring this reaction out.

That voice he couldn't forget.

It had been so, so long. Before he killed Wynne and took that bloody crown from her. Before he signed on to serve Rayleonard as their dog. He remembered a man who was able to bring that fear back out. To chill him to the bone.

His past had caught up to him and there was no doubt left in his mind.

He was going to die today.

Fiona's voice hissed at him, "Berlioz, why is he referring to you by last name alone? Do you know him?" She'd know why this was strange, only a handful of people knew Berlioz's full name. Calling him 'Lamond' alone was even more out of place to her. But there was a time and place when everyone knew each other by surname alone.

The Rayleonard Test Pilot Program.

He answered Fiona, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice, "Yeah, I know him. You need to get out of here now, everyone still in the command center needs to get to the last transporters immediately, alright?"

"Wait what? Why? Who is he?" Fiona pressed him.

"I said get to the fucking transporters now! You a-"

The other pilot cut him off, "Why don't you let everyone here know who I am hmmm? I think it's rather rude Lamond, to keep everybody in the dark, don't you?"

He hated it. That smooth and calm delivery, the way he sounded so amenable. Through clenched teeth, he sighed.

"His… His name is Thermidor, Maximilian Thermidor. He is a former Raven and was part of the same Rayleonard Test Program as me. He was the one who should have been signed onto Rayleonard."

"Indeed," Thermidor continued, "Please do explain why I am a former Raven, why I never got the chance to sign that contract?"

"Because…" Berlioz really didn't want to have to go through, but he didn't know what Thermidor would do if he didn't play along. "Because during a routine test, you killed two other test pilots in cold blood. Rayleonard threw you out of their program and the Ravens cut you loose. Not wanting to be associated with someone who could so brazenly kill their own in a controlled environment."

"I think that's rather interesting, don't you Lamond? I do wonder, how many Ravens died by your hands? I do believe the 'Controlled Environment' nonsense makes no difference really now, does it?"

His hands were shaking. This was literally the last thing he needed right now.

"I wonder why the deaths of two Ravens was enough to cut ties with me? When they were both more than happy to cozy up with you. A man who literally wades waist deep in blood and death with every step you take."

Of course he was right. But he knew why he'd been allowed to carry on. Every death had been sanctioned by Rayleonard and the Ark. Berlioz had allowed himself to act as a weapon without questioning orders. His choice had been to follow every instruction to the letter, or allow his sister to die.

Thermidor had rejected that, choosing to act on free will, fighting and killing with no discretion but his own. He was given repeated warnings for being too violent during test runs, often injuring other pilots and staff due to his lack of restraint in combat.

He stood head and shoulders above every other test pilot including Berlioz himself. With flawless marks across all fields.

It was during their final test runs that Thermidor clearly decided he'd had enough of holding back. He altered the testing AC frame he was using, allowing himself to continue using it despite any command override sent by the staff of the facility.

The test was a simple two against one scenario, to see how a Raven would act in the unlikely situation of being faced with two opposing Ravens.

They had to use an emergency electromagnetic pulse to stop him. Both Ravens beaten into a pulp, their cockpits smashed in.

Because Thermidor had come to realise that just shooting an AC till it failed wasn't enough for him. In the often tight close quarters of the testing environments, he learned to beat ACs to their knees, bludgeoning them down with his weapons and his fists.

Brutal and clinical, he'd take his opponent down with a rain of blows, purposefully leaving his target unable to defend itself before breaking their core open and pulverizing the pilot inside.

It was then that Rayleonard decided he wasn't worth the risk and had him rejected from the program. When the Ark found out, they immediately had Thermidor's AC and rank as a Raven taken from him.

It was because of that, Berlioz found himself as the prime candidate for Rayleonard.

"Fiona, you need to leave, right now. Ok?" He didn't want to order her about, but at this rate none of the staff still on the Ark would survive.

There was a brief pause before, "Alright fine, we're packing up here, I'll contact you once I'm on a transporter. Don't die."

The line went dead. He was now alone with Thermidor.

"Isn't that nice Lamond? Someone cares about you, who'd have thought it? Perhaps I was wrong and it's possible for people to mistake monsters for people."

As much as he wanted to, he didn't correct him. Thermidor wasn't looking for a debate on morality, he was just trying to get in his head.

In a way, he couldn't correct him. He was right. Killing with permission wasn't really any different to killing without. You were still taking lives, you still left people with holes in their families they could never fill.

"So why are you here now Thermidor? Why show yourself now of all times?" If anything at least he could try and find out his goal, what his end game was.

"After being forced out of the Ark, I spent an awfully long time wandering. Through city streets and deserts. Years of nothing, years of fighting as parts of independent groups, time starts to blend together. But I never forgot what I lost. Over those years I got to watch you in the position that should have been given to me."

Berlioz had to question that, "What should have been given to you? Since when were you owed the contract to Rayleonard?"

"Because I was the best! Because I came out on top and Rayleonard stabbed me in the back! I lost everything, I had nothing!"

"Oh please," Berlioz wasn't having any of this, his hands tightening on the controls of Supplice. "Rayleonard didn't stab you in the back, you fucking murdered people! How could they possibly trust you to act as a Raven should if you can't keep your shit together!"

For the first time since Berlioz saw it, Thermidor's AC began to move, striding forwards towards him.

"I would love to stay and chat, but I have my orders. GA were willing to accept me into their ranks on only a single condition, I'm wondering why I ever bothered with Rayleonard now."

Thermidor is working under GA? This was fairly surprising as he assumed Thermidor hated the idea of being told what to do.

Berlioz shifted Supplice's weight to increase his stability, readying both rifles in case of an attack. He had no idea what weapons this AC had, meaning anything could happen.

"I can guess the orders but what was your condition? What could you possibly have wanted from GA?"

The laughing that came back at him sent shivers through his entire body.

"Can't you guess? The condition of my cooperation, was getting the chance to kill you."

There was no fight or flight, the unbearable hostility running through every one of Thermidor's words made it very clear. If he ran, he'd die. The only option was to try to survive as long as possible.

He needed the higher ground, moving from the main deck to the smaller one and firing down was an option, but if he just went for it then Thermidor would beat him there.

Berlioz had to get Thermidor to move away from the upper deck to give him more of a window. There was a way to coax an opposing Raven into moving their AC where you wanted them to, it wasn't complex or complicated. It was an innate reaction to avoid incoming fire, so by directing your attacks with inclinations in certain directions, you could force an AC to dance whichever dance you wished.

The complete motion would be to shift his weight left, hopefully to lure Thermidor into starting to head closer to the deck edge. Then a burst of rifle fire at that AC's right side from his perspective which should cause a dodge to Berlioz's left. That should give him enough time.

With his weight going in the wrong direction, he'd have to flare his boosters harder than he'd like with Supplice in the state it was in, but if he kept that balance right he should counter-slide right. After that, kick off from the deck and boost up to the higher deck while continuing to suppress Thermidor with rifle fire.

That black AC was not even four hundred meters away, still striding forwards. It was no or never.

Sliding Supplice's right foot slightly away from his center of gravity and sinking its left knee, he prepared for the maneuver. Themidor's AC continued walking towards him, unflinching.

What was he planning? Was he just going to keep walking at him? No adjustment? No plan? There wasn't any time to think about it, he raised the BFF rifle in his right hand, snapping off a series of rounds, tracers leaving streaks through the air.

Still Thermidor didn't react. If he didn't move, those rounds wou-

The bottom fell out of Berlioz's already torn up gut.

No. No no no no no! It can't…

Thermidor had no need to evade enemy fire. He could march forward with impunity.

Supplice's assault rifle rounds exploded, a few meters from Thermidor's AC, slamming into a brilliant swirling ball of gold and bright amber charged Kojima particles.

Primal Armour.

The original plan was worthless now, he had to bring that field down. PA wasn't invulnerable, sustained fire could bring it down, he knew this. He centered his weight again, bracing himself for the recoil.

Leveling both rifles at Thermidor he squeezed the triggers. Without the FCS it was difficult to fight both weapons kicking up, the dulled roar of the rifles blazing away resounded through the entire AC, filling his ears.

But even after six seconds of continuous fire, Thermidor still approached, unfazed. The sphere of energy still glowing with that dull light, arcs of electrical discharge striking the deck as shells smashed into it, ineffective.

Supplice didn't have the ammunition to keep up this sustained fire without some kind of pay off, this was ridiculous. That field should have at least thinned out enough to begin to destabilize.

Releasing the triggers, he took a step back, trying to figure out what to do.

"Isn't it wonderful? I didn't believe it at first. I heard whispers of it during the test program, but it was only when I saw some secretly filmed footage of Supplice during its developmental phase that I knew that's what I needed."

Berlioz took another step back. Shrouded and backlight by the fires raging across the Ark's surface, it was like a black armoured demon was bearing down on him. Ready to devour him.

"GA's allies provided me with this AC, Unsung, and equipped it with a generator that could generate a Primal Armour field. Of course, the shoddy sub-par module mounted onto your Aaliyah's generator is nothing more than an experiment, a weak botch job prototype that could never compare to the finished product."

Unsung, trust him to call it that. Thermidor genuinely saw himself as a man slighted by the world. Like he was truly robbed of his rightfully owed position of power.

He carried on, "At the heart of this machine beats the first production model generator with the ability to produce Kojima Particles without an external module, capable of sustaining an absolutely flawless PA field."

Flawless? That had Berlioz frowning, perhaps that meant breaking through it wasn't going to be so easy.

He still had another card to play, the grenade launcher on his shoulder could possibly thin the field given enough consecutive impacts, it would certainly help in gauging Thermidor's confidence in his so called 'flawless' PA.

"I feel like I've talked long enough, I didn't wait over seven years to catch up and chat. Do me a favour won't you Berlioz?"

"Like what?" His whole body was tense like a steel cable.

"Make this interesting, won't you?"

The second he finished speaking, it was already too late to react. To say the speed was unbelievable was an understatement. Before Berlioz could even adjust Supplice's throttle, Unsung had flash stepped forwards using itss OB for a single instantaneous boost of acceleration.

He was expecting gunfire, even at this distance it would make sense to fire with little risk of evasion. But the attack that came was only to be realized as it happened. He'd forgotten the rifle/blade hybrid weapon that Unsung carried in its right hand.

Oh Go-

He had only long enough to shift to the right by inches before the blade of the gun came crashing down onto Supplice's upper core, crushing the armour and reinforced framework underneath. If he hadn't moved at all, it would have blinded him with the destruction of Supplice's head.

The noise was the worst part, that screech of metal grinding against metal, buckling and warping under the cutting pressure. Warnings were blaring as Supplice alerted him to the catastrophic damage being delt.

Berlioz fired Supplice's boosters in full reverse, trying to get away. The endeavor was successful, the horrific noise of the serrated edge ripping armour apart as it came loose rang through his head.

On a side monitor, a warning blinked crimson at him.

WARNING: Left Arm Hydraulic Pressure Dropping

Looking at the blade on Unsung's rifle, he could see the dull orange fluid dripping from the edge. A severed line was a serious problem, when the reserve of fluid in the system ran out, he'd lose functionality in Supplice's left arm, meaning he couldn't use that weapon either.

"Oh ho! Not so fast!"

Expecting another melee strike, Berlioz reactively shot backwards, burning hard to evade the blow.

It never came. Looking at Unsung, the AC this time raised the strange looking weapon in its left hand.

What came out of the end wasn't a bullet or any kind of projectile he knew of. Instead, a stream of glowing Kojima Particles flew out, crackling like lightning, whistling over and around Supplice at a frightening speed.

Then everything went to hell, Supplice's OS went haywire. Every single warning possible flared onscreen before the entire system crashed and shutdown, a monitor to his left exploded and all the controls seized up. His AC slumped idle, unable to move.

Supplice still had power but almost every core system had failed, only a handful remained active. This did include the communication module, which ran on an auxiliary system.

"What the fuck was that?!" He said more to try and calm himself down.

Of course, Thermidor could still hear him, "Did you like that? Something one of GA's allies cooked up. They've been doing an awful lot of research into the application of Kojima Particles, this is just one of the weapons that's come out of R&D.

"That's sick, it's bad enough to use Kojima Particles for Primal Armour, but using it as a weapon?"

"The cowards at Rayleonard didn't know the potential for what they had made. This is just one application. They found that concentrated streams of low-density Kojima Particles with the correct charge through have some peculiar effects on certain electrical systems like those found in the primary operations of an Armored Core."

A rifle that can completely immobilize an AC? Fuck. That rifle suited Thermidor just fine. The flickering image on his main monitor showed a skewed image, Unsung walking up to him.

Berlioz jerked the controls back and forth while Supplice rebooted, praying it was fast enough.

Not quite, as Unsung swung the rifle at Supplice, the blade smashing into the right hand side of Supplice's body, just in front of where the arm rested.

A moment after impact, Supplice's controls suddenly came loose as everything reengaged. Berlioz kicked away, boosters burning to get away.

Thermidor didn't immediate follow, still moving at that same steady pace. It was unnerving, like an unstoppable creature that would never give up.

If there was ever going to be the chance he needed to bring Unsung down, it was now. Putting a couple of hundred meters between them, he hunched Supplice down, making the machine as stable as possible. If he was going to go for consecutive hits, he'd need it as he couldn't rely on the AC's FCS to compensate for the immense recoil.

Berlioz switched from Supplice's right rifle to the back mounted cannon, the barrel flipping up and over his shoulder, locking into the body of the weapon, creating an unbroken gun that from end to end was nearly as long as Supplice was tall.

A high explosive shell was already pre-loaded, but the weapon did have a dual feed mechanism meaning that two types of ammo could be fired interchangeably without any need to adjust. If the HE shell wouldn't cut it, the sabot round might.

Thermidor's voice filled his ears, "Trying something different? I do wish you'd be a little more inventive though, I'm starting to wonder how exactly you beat Wynne? Did she go easy on you?"

He lined the manual sight over Unsung in a single motion.

"Shut up you fucking monster!"

Berlioz squeezed the trigger as hard as he could, the entire body of Supplice flexing against the blast as the cannon fired.

The streak of white vapour trailing behind the shell covered the distance between them in a flash. It detonated, he didn't wait to see if it had any effect, another shell in the gun's breach already.

Again and again he fired, the cloud of dust and smoke obscuring his view of Unsung. After nine rounds he stopped, taking several slow steps back.

It was getting hard to breathe, to move, to think. His whole body was shaking and shivering, the controls, the seat, nearly every surface he was in contact with was slick with sweat and blood. The pain was unbearable. He just wanted to stop, to lie down.

Unsung stepped out of the smoke.

"Monster? That's rich coming from the man who kills everything they touch! Hit me again! I dare you! Just try!"

The sphere of Kojima Particles swirling unchanged. The AC dashed forwards again, closing in on Supplice, swinging the gunblade in a smooth uppercut, looking to slice the front of Supplice's core off.

An unsteady step back was enough for Supplice's body to get clear, but not enough for the long barrel of the grenade cannon. It was cleaved off in a single motion, sailing through the air in a small arc before bouncing off the ground.

He lit Supplice's boosters, desperate to get away. He couldn't fight this. This was a nightmare he couldn't kill.

The com light blinked a murky green. He allowed the channel, Fiona's voice ringing out, somewhat crackly over the speakers.

"Berlioz! I'm on the transporter, what's happening? Are you alright?"

He tried to chuckle, but it was beyond him now. "S-still breathing, a-are you airborne?"

"We're taking off right now. We'll enter a holding pattern so I can see you, the GA fighters are still maintaining their distance."

"Good, good. I… I'm glad you're safe. What… What a-about the last transporter?"

There was a short pause, muffled talking, "They were still loading when we taxied, they shouldn't be long please hold on!"

He smiled, it was so like her to believe he could. She'd always had faith in him no matter what. Of course she didn't know, but he wondered if that even mattered to her. They'd been friends for so long that maybe he should had trusted her a little more.

He'd make it up to her, somehow, someday.

"Alright, I can do that."

Berlioz flicked a large red switch above his head, jettisoning the damaged weapon from his back, the crash reverberating through the floor and into the cockpit.

Reaching over to the small battered panel, he flicked down two switches.

I'm sorry Alicia, I didn't mean to lie, but I won't be able to see you again. I'm sorry Fiona, I said we'd get through the fighting together, but you're going to have to carry on alone.

He ignored the immediately pulsing warning, that familiar whine filling his ears as he came to a standstill not even a hundred meters in front of Unsung

It didn't take her long.

"Berlioz? Why am I getting a radiation warnin- Wait. What!? Berlioz!? What have you done?! What have you done!? Berlioz! Please! B-"

He closed the channel.

No need to hear it. He never liked making people cry. The echoes of sobbing families ringing through his head every night was enough for him.

As the noise behind him grew louder and louder, he could taste metal in his mouth. Either from the blood or the radiation, it didn't matter. Not anymore.

Supplice's Primal Armour was his last chance, a last desperate move to place himself on equal footing with the mechanical beast he faced.

Thermidor spoke, "Oh? I wonder what took you so long, I'll certainly enjoy this a little more now.

The second that screeching reached a peak, he dropped the small lever, the Kojima Particle field arcing electricity off it as the charge flooded through it.

"Come on Thermidor, y-you said you wanted me dead? Here I am. Kill me then!"

He didn't back down as Unsung strode forwards, he fired with both rifles, no longer conserving ammunition, just blazing away with reckless abandon, trying with every round to break that shell.

But to no avail. Supplice's left hand rifle clicked dry first, the red blinking zero under its icon on the fuzzy HUD indicated that it had no more ammo. As he glanced back to the main display, Unsung raised and fired its gunblade twice, both shells landing squarely on target.

Supplice's PA discharged, coming apart instantly, the field failing as the Kojima Module coughed and died behind him.

Oh god.

This was it. His last gambit had failed.

Unsung fired the disabling rifle and just like before, Supplice sunk down, unable to support itself as the operating system crashed. He needed to move, to do something, anything. Unsung, always marching towards him, that black devil hunting him ever second.

Not that he was any different.

"You know Lamond," Thermidor's voice was just dripping with condescension, "This really is a pathetic effort, honestly. I did expect better from someone as lauded as yourself. Was it all a lie? I think it was. I don't see Berlioz Lamond in front of me, I see a scared and weak man who gave up a long time ago."

Berlioz gritted his teeth, spitting his words back through the blood in his mouth, "I didn't give up, I wouldn't be here if I had. I'd be dead on some battlefield just like you should be! I had someone to fight for!"

Supplice rebooted, everything lighting back up. He'd passed his limit, he was running on strength that wasn't his.

Unsung was on top of him a second later, the disabling rifle now gone. He tried to counter with his right hand rifle, but Thermidor knocked it aside with his now free hand, closing the gap between them.

"What a shame then! To let them down in such a pitiful way!"

Thermidor's free hand reached for Supplice's left arm, Berlioz tried desperately to yank it away but the controls were sluggish, the arm was barely responding to his input.

What?! What's ha- Then it hit him. Of course, the cut hydraulic line. He'd missed the blinking warning on a secondary monitor.

WARNING: Left Arm Hydraulic Failure

Thermidor's hand clamped down on the arm, metal giving way under the surprising pressure exerted. Supplice couldn't pull the arm free, there wasn't enough fluid left. When Unsung held the gunblade in its hand high, Berlioz realized exactly what Thermidor planned to do and he could do nothing to stop him.

He brought blade down like an executioner's axe, hacking away at the arm. Metal and armour peeling apart, the supporting frame cut and crushed.

Berlioz fired what available boosters Supplice still had while kicking against the ground.

Suddenly he shot backwards, stumbling as the unevenly distributed thrust threw his balance off. Not to mention the weight of Supplice was considerably slanted to his right.

It was only then that he looked down, to see the sparking and ragged stump where Supplice's left arm once was. On the ground at Unsung's feet lay the arm, still clutching the Rayleonard assault rifle.

Thermidor's voice filled his head. He couldn't shake it. "I wish I could say I felt sorry for you. It's like watching a dying animal, ineffectively bearing its teeth at the hunter it has no chance against."

Berlioz fired with his remaining rifle, slowly limping backwards, his legs and arms burning with pain, fumbling the controls as shots went wide or glancing off the PA field.

He wanted to cry out, to curl into a ball and scream. But he couldn't, he had to keep struggling, to lash out with even the last drop of blood in his body.

Berlioz had spilt enough over the years, he owed it to them, didn't he?

Thermidor caught up with him, "I'm bored now. I've got to say, this really wasn't worth the wait. I do wish you'd actually put some effort into this. But, what should I expect from someone like you?"

Thermidor lunged at him, his hand grabbing Supplice around the neck with almost impossible strength, lifting the entire AC into the air. The sudden impact, jolting him. Berlioz didn't have any more fight to give. He was burnt out.

Supplice hung limp from Unsung's raised grasp. The hand with the gunblade drawn back.

He knew what was coming.

"A wretched, worthless fraud."

Thermidor moved Unsung with a single fluid motion.

Supplice's generator ground to a halt, the primary power failing as everything except a few emergency systems shutdown permanently. Berlioz's legs suddenly went cold, he couldn't move them anymore?

Looking down he saw the edge of Unsung's gunblade, a torrent of red pouring over it. The massive serrated edge had punched through the lower half of Supplice's core, right through the cockpit and into the generator behind him.

In doing this, the blade had sliced straight through his right side and back. Of course he couldn't feel his legs, his spine had been severed.

Nothing made sense, this should hurt right? He should feel pain? Shouldn't he?

Why didn't this hurt? It was just cold. A numbness like oblivion had consumed his lower half.

It didn't feel real.

Unsung dropped Supplice, the broken machine crumpling into a heap. With the cockpit breached, the thick field of Kojima Particles flooded in, it was like someone had filled his mouth with lead. He could smell the radiation.

The sound of metal grating against metal rang out, he felt like he was moving. Through the gaping wound in Supplice's core he could see the sky, that deep orange marred by black smoke and ash.

He wished he could have seen the sun rise. Just one last time.

The flashes of Unsung's back revealed the situation. He was being dragged somewhere.

Then, Thermidor's AC filled his view, he was being held up again. Behind Unsung, he could see the Ark burning, from what he could see, they must have been at the very edge of the Ark's main deck.

Even through the building haze in his head, he could still hear Thermidor clear as day. "Now, don't you think we should address those who believed in you?"

Berlioz wished he could speak but at this point anything besides listening was beyond him. The best he could have done was gurgle and continue to drool blood over himself.

The speakers crackled slightly, then Thermidor's voice boomed out over them. "Hello members of the Raven's Ark! My name is Maximilian Thermidor and I have some questions for you all listening!"

He must be talking to everyone, not just him now. He wondered how exactly he was doing it, but staying conscious was the priority.

"The man I hold here is supposed to be the very best you have to offer, the one you all looked up to and called Number One. The Ninebreaker!"

Keeping his eyes open now was a monumental task. He was grateful the pain had gone away.

"He doesn't look like much does he? I think, in a way he represents you all. All of the Ravens and those that support them. You are revered as the gods of the battlefield, the harbingers of death. The most powerful fighting force in the world."

He shook Supplice slightly, "And now look at you! You thought yourselves kings of war! Untouchable! Yet here your crown lies shattered on the ground, broken by the feet of those you considered beneath yourselves."

Thermidor clearly blamed the Ark, Berlioz and Rayleonard for his situation all those years ago. He had been the only test candidate close to Thermidor's ranking during the program. Perhaps if Thermidor had been the only test pilot who met the grade, he would have been accepted despite his violent disposition.

"I'm not sorry to see this Ark burn down. Your time at the top has come to an end."

Unsung pulled Supplice in close, so that pale turquoise eye burned through the gap Berlioz could see through.

"As for you, I hope you enjoyed your years of power. Were they worth it? Did you feel like you had earned them? I guess it doesn't really matter anymore. I've enjoyed this, though I do wish you'd put up a better fight. It was rather disheartening to kick a wounded dog around but I suppose at the end of the day beggars can't be choosers can they?"

He laughed, a deep booming laugh like he would explode if he didn't let it out.

"Isn't it wonderful that we could meet again like this? I used to think of you almost as a rival, maybe even a friend. But the closer you get to someone, the easier it is for them to stab you in the back, I'm not wrong am I?"

Berlioz's face was wet from the tears leaking down his face, the blood and sweat. He wished it had never turned out this way. Maybe if he'd died, none of this would have happened. So selfish. So selfish.

"There's not much left in you is there? There wasn't much to begin with really. You are no one, and you are nothing. Now Lamond, tell me, what is the best thing, a false king can do when presented with the truth of himself? Hmmm?"

The joint in Unsung's elbow creaked slightly.

"He can fall."

With that, Thermidor threw him over the edge.

Berlioz had a lot of regret in his life.

Everyone.

There were so many things he wished he could have taken back

I'm so sorry.

The thousands dead and buried.

I let you all down.

The families left broken because of his actions.

I was wrong.

Funerals he missed because too many knew he did it.

I was selfish.

Friends forgotten, left behind in the dark.

I wasn't strong enough.

So many broken promises.

I hope you can all forgive me.

So many unfulfilled wishes.

Alicia, I wish I could say I'm sorry.

He couldn't wash the blood off his hands.

I wish I could say goodbye.

Maybe there would be a time when he could be forgiven.

I hope you know I cared.

There would be a time when he could live normally.

I hope you're safe and happy.

Wouldn't that be nice?

That you aren't scared or alone.

Falling was strange.

I'll see you again.

Those seconds of weightlessness, it wasn't something he ever really got used to.

Someday in the future.

It was always unnerving.

I'll be around for you.

But this time, it was ok, he didn't mind the feeling.

So we can be a family again.

He was so tired.

Just like we were supposed to.

So very tired.