"CHARGE!" I roar, pouring the entire contents of my lungs into the order. "Do not rest until every one of them has been trampled underfoot!"

The brilliant sheen of my Red Horn's armor pales in respect to the distant fire rising from Big Ursa. Even I paused to gape at first, but if ever there is a time for action, it is now.

The entire mass of Big Ursa's main force swarms down upon our fallen home, led by myself, guns rattling off round after round. The enemy had apparently disembarked from their craft at two points and crushed the base between themselves, but the ruined building acted as a chokepoint in the valley, preventing them from reuniting quickly. The throng on our side stood densely packed as they waited for their turn to take the narrow passage across. Too packed to avoid the haphazard assault of our forces.

Either the Dunravien force didn't expect us to return so quickly, or to return with such fervor. Those caught between the base and our assault quickly fall into mass confusion. Some return fire but are taken down quickly. Most others attempt to pass the base and clog up both routes, making them easy targets. In mere moments, we reduce them to so much distorted metal.

"Sir! The enemy has adopted defensive positions on the far side of the base!" A familiar voice rings over the radio. His tone makes it clear that he never expected anything quite like this. "They're ready to shoot down any units that try to pass by on the sides!"

I take a deep breath while I consider his report. Based on Big Ursa protocol, an attack of this magnitude would have resulted in everyone being deployed, in zoids or on foot. Everyone. This meant that the building itself would be completely empty, and more importantly, that the resting enemies had dispatched every threat.

I doubt they took prisoners.

"If we cannot go around, soldier, then we will go through..." I answer finally. "Keep two cannon units on each side to prevent them from crossing; the rest of you follow me." With measured determination, I urge my Red Horn forward. I crash through the now defunct hangar door and pick up speed as I race across. The far wall proves no match for the massive bulk of my zoid, and soon I find myself wading through empty hallways and residential quarters. With one final push, my Styracosaurus-themed behemoth bursts from Big Ursa's flaming gut into the waiting firestorm of the enemy force.

The hail of ammunition is impossible to see through, but my systems relay that all of my ranged weaponry has been destroyed. Unfazed, I rampage back and forth across the battlefield, crushing or flinging aside every enemy within reach. While my Horn may be bulky, in my hands, it is as nimble as death itself.

A sudden blast of heat catches my attention, accompanied by a truncated shriek over my radio. Turning around, I see a swath of both enemy and allied zoids lying in smoldering wrecks. Standing just beyond them is a black, Smilodon-based zoid; appearing like a bulkier version of Raika's Sabre Tiger. The heavy heat distortion in the air surrounding it makes it difficult to see the details of its armaments.

The wrecks, however, I can see clearly. Unlike the numerous other fallen fighters, they bear no fatal claw or bullet mark...rather...they seem to be...melting?