BT-7274 did not have to wait long. Six days after his second encounter with the veteran Processors, he detected the movements of sixteen Juggernauts headed back into the field.

"Spearhead Squadron," he communicated, synchronising into their version of the neural link once they entered his threshold of detection. "Is my prowess required on the battlefield?"

"BT-7274. Thank you once again for allying with us against the Legion." Handler One took charge, speaking on behalf of the Squadron. "We have detected an amassed force of Legion units that assembled suddenly a day ago in Area 182, approximately twelve kilometres away, at bearing 012. Further groups have been spotted in Areas 341 and 442. We expect that the first group will fortify that position, and form up with separate forces over the next few days. We need to eliminate them before that happens – otherwise, putting down such a massive formation would be far more difficult."

He had traversed that region before. Referring to the navigation database he had gradually been creating as he travelled the contested territories of the Republic, he soon found the indexed location of where the battle was likely to occur, even if he did not know that area by the name given.

"A former city," he surmised. "An annoyance. I will not be able to manoeuvre freely, and our enemies will be able to hide behind cover. Conclusion – without my pilot present, my combat effectiveness will not be fully up to par. In the worst-case scenario, should the Legion arrive in overwhelming numbers, even I will not be able to remain standing."

"We would not call for your assistance if the situation was not dire." Undertaker's speech patterns were stoic, but there was a certain tension to its timbre. "BT, I will give a more thorough explanation later, but we expect this Legion force to be vastly more formidable than a common battalion."

That was interesting. He had noted variations in the degree of tactics and skills displayed by individual Legion units while venturing out on his own, but despite all the data he had collected, he had never been able to find any statistical correlation with any other observed parameter. "Explain."

"You can't hear them?" Sirius – the first Processor of the Squadron that he had met – questioned. "I mean… sure, they're louder when Shin gets up close to them, but even now…"

Parsing through the stream of information coming from the neural link, he could not identify what Sirius was talking about. "Negative. I do not detect any abnormalities."

Now having made his way toward their assembled crafts, he could see how the Juggernauts shifted, unconscious movements of their Processors translating their surprise at that. "There are plenty of Black Sheep among their number. I will explain fully once we defeat them, but these are Legion units with almost human-like intelligence."

Hmm. That did explain some peculiarities about the units he had destroyed with heightened tactical ability. "Understood. I believe I have come across what you term 'Black Sheep' in the past weeks." He turned in that direction just slightly to the northeast, the ruined sizeable city already visible. "What is your plan of attack?"

"Our data suggests that the force primarily consists of Grauwolf and Ameise units, with Löwe fortifying chokepoints into and within the city. Stier artillery-types are also present on the rooftops. I propose that we conduct a divided assault – BT-7274, if you march in from the south entrance and distract the bulk of their forces, the rest of Spearhead Squadron can circle in from the flanks and eliminate the artillery support, and the Ameise serving as their spotters.

"From there, a pincer movement toward the south will allow for an attack on three fronts. Even accounting for the Black Sheep among their ranks, they will not be able to evade your combined forces."

He pulled up his internal reference once more. Certainly, it was a sound plan – but…

"I expect that I will not be able to maintain my position for a prolonged period of time," he said, running the simulations. "The enemy will be able to funnel out from four separate exit points along the south side of the city. It is likely that I will need to retreat in order to prevent being overwhelmed, especially if the Löwe abandon their fortified locations to engage in battle. Without assistance, there is a high probability that I will be destroyed if surrounded by a sufficiently large force. That would be a violation of Protocol Two."

"Can you even be destroyed?"

"Griffin."

"Right, right. Sorry, Undertaker. Ignore that."

"We aren't expecting you to continue fighting if the situation goes south," Handler One hurriedly continued. "If you are in danger of being overwhelmed, please retreat at once! With the Legion drawn toward your attack, Spearhead Squadron should be able to disengage safely, and we can plan a different method of approach."

"Statistical modelling suggests that a secondary attack will have a lower likelihood of success if the first fails," BT-7274 warned. "The core strength of the Juggernaut relies on its mobility. If the Legion is aware of a possible incoming attack, greater losses might occur on a subsequent attempt to break their fortification."

"I will not let any of my Processors lose their lives." Handler One's voice was firm. Vocal pattern analysis indicated that something in their social dynamics had changed over the course of the past few days. It seemed his little unsolicited advice had paid off, after all. "That includes you as well, BT. You may not be part of Spearhead Squadron, but you are still our ally. Retreat if it becomes too dangerous to continue – that is an order, Spearhead Squadron."

There was silence for a moment, then –

"You're really something else today, huh, Handler One?" Black Dog commented. "Fine. Got it."

"My, my; are you sure an Alba should be saying that to us?"

"Yeah, yeah. We've got it already, Handler One."

Not bad. He adjusted his estimate of their Squadron's combat effectiveness.

"Understood, Major Milizé." Undertaker spoke, after the wave of commentary concluded. "First and Third Platoon, we're heading toward the northwest. Second and Fourth Platoon, Wehrwolf is in command – you're assaulting the northeast. Snow Witch, you're with us. Black Dog, you join the team in the northeast. Sixth Platoon, you're on overwatch – start the battle at the vantage point in area 180, but be ready to reposition once the battle starts."

"Affirmative!"

"Understood!"

"All units – move out."

BT-7274 began moving toward the south side of the city, the Juggernauts fanning out into two streams further away. There was no way to disguise his approach – while the Juggernauts could get away with trying to obscure themselves until heading closer to the city, it was easy to spot a Titan such as himself travelling on an open road.

Though the Juggernauts had to travel a longer distance, especially since they looped around in their attack formation, they were faster than BT-7274. By the time that he reached firing distance, they were already in position, waiting for the enemy forces to thin out so that they could mount an assault on targets of strategic importance.

Ameise and Grauwolf were assembling, rushing toward the south entrance. All he had for cover were scattered buildings and ruined walls, the density of urban constructs growing deeper into the city.

"BT-7274, there are three Black Sheep heading toward your location. A separate group of Legion is trying to circle in from your two o'clock. Another force is exiting from the southeast, with two Black Sheep among them."

Convenient. He had no idea how Undertaker was able to locate them, but it allowed him to make his own preparations. Knowing which were priority targets was certainly going to prove helpful.

ACTION: Assigning tag 'BLACK SHEEP' to enemy units.

Chain-gun whirring, he dashed forward, using buildings for cover as he evaded cannon-fire from Löwe that had sequestered themselves away on balconies and rooftops. Ameise and Grauwolf were just ahead, forming up toward him.

And with that, he approached firing distance.

"Engaging."

As pillars crumbled around him, brought low by explosive shells of the tank-types that he successfully dodged, he twisted, raising a palm toward a hail of rockets that had been sent toward him by the Grauwolf units ahead.

ACTION: ACTIVATING VORTEX SHIELD.

Magnetic coils burned with power, a translucent blue dome flaring to life just before him. The rockets of Grauwolf units and rounds from the Ameise's machine guns had their momentum arrested suddenly, drifting lazily as they were caught within the influence of the shield, twisting and meandering in mid-air.

With the initial salvo intercepted, he turned his hand aside – and released the Vortex Shield.

The accumulated mass of projectiles was diverted aside, propelled toward the Löwe that were attempting to reposition in preparation for further cannon-fire. Many of the returned projectiles were completely off-mark – aiming was far more difficult when returning fire with the Vortex Shield – but he had stopped plenty of rockets and rounds in their tracks.

A series of explosions lit up, as walls and pillars toppled, three Löwe units either annihilated directly or crushed under the wreckage of collapsing debris.

But BT-7274 had no time to rest – now that the Vortex Shield was expended, it would take time to recharge. His enemies were gearing up for further assault, and from his calculations, the second force would soon be looping around to engage him.

From up on the rooftops, a hail of artillery fire was unleashed. In an instant, BT-7274 calculated their trajectories, extrapolated the range of their explosions, and began to for more complete cover. The artillery bombardment impacted just a moment later, the storm of debris kicked up by the force of their explosions glancing off his shields.

It was time for him to reposition. He could not afford to get flanked – as things were, stray shots were whittling away at his shields. They could recharge – he was a Vanguard-class Titan, after all – but he could afford to acquire any lasting damage right now, since trying to repair any physical damage to his chassis would be difficult without Militia mechanics on hand.

"Repositioning," BT-7274 affirmed. "I would advise haste. I will not be able to maintain my position for long."

"Understood. Just hold on, BT. Wehrwolf, are you in position?"

"Roger. Just tell us when."

"We're ready to begin. Spearhead Squadron, engage! Our priority is taking out the Stiers!"

-x-x-x-

Kurena was watching the battle unfold carefully, staying outside the confines of the city itself, but was ready to provide assistance to Shin's team over in the north-west, or to BT-7274 by the south. Rekka, her fellow member of the Sixth Platoon, was likewise covering Raiden in the north-east.

The Stier had hidden themselves well – all four of them present were Black Sheep, and there was no way to take them out with artillery or sniper fire without getting up close. They were also well-separated from one another, meaning that if they were not eliminated nearly simultaneously, the remaining artillery-types could support the other Legion units within the city when they engaged in battle with Spearhead Squadron.

It was why they had to rely on BT-7274's help, in order for the assault teams to be able to divide and ambush the Stiers. She still did not like Handler One in the slightest – she was too idealistic, and had never gone through even a fraction of the hell that the Eighty-Six personally experienced for the past nine years – but she would admit that the information she had was making this mission far simpler.

In the past, Shin would only be able to locate the Black Sheep, but would have no idea what units they were, or what the enemy's unit composition would be like. Major Milizé had been able to predict that side of things by referring to past data, as well as by using the long range monitoring technology that the Republic had, that was able to partially overcome even the Eintagsfliege's jamming that blocked traditional radar scanning.

And though Kaie and Anju continually teased her about it – her ill-feelings toward the Handler was not just because she and Shin were becoming unnaturally close, damn it!

That thought brought with it another rush of annoyance. She eyed down the sights, keeping track of a Löwe heading toward the vanguard party. That would not do. She followed its movements, led by a bit, projected where it would slow down in order to pivot and turn – and pulled the trigger.

The Juggernaut's 57mm cannons fired. Launched at supersonic speeds, the shells impacted against the thinner armour plating toward the rear half of the tank, blowing the Löwe up immediately.

"Löwe destroyed," she spoke, already steering her Juggernaut to a new position. "Moving to a new vantage point – distance 300, bearing 035. Give me fifteen seconds."

"Acknowledged," Shin said immediately. "Falke, Fafnir, three Legion approaching from the left at the next intersection. Loop around and flank them. Laughing Fox, March Hare, we're engaging the first Stier."

"Got it."

"Wehrwolf, how are things on your end?"

"We've spotted both Stier," Raiden grunted. Through the Para-RAID, Kurena could hear cannon-fire echoing from his end. "There's some of these buggers still sticking around, but most of the Legion have thinned out. We'll be able to strike soon. Black Dog, I need artillery fire to scatter the group up ahead to secure our entry."

"Coming right up!"

Atop her new sniper's roost – what used to be an apartment complex, that had been partially toppled during the Legion's initial advance years ago – she waited, searching for new valuable targets to pick off.

"Be careful, everyone," Handler One said. "There are a lot more of them than initially thought – they must have been hiding under cover during our last scan."

That was true. There were a lot more than what Kurena was used to, considering that there was no Shepherd in their midst. If they had tried to take this on alone, at least a few of them would have died.

Even now, though BT-7274 was holding the brunt of the enemy's attention, there was still no telling whether all of them would survive this battle.

"The first Stier is destroyed." Shin spoke a moment later. "Be careful – they're Black Sheep. The remaining Stier are starting to react."

"One down on our end as well. Manticore, Kirschblüte, Sirius, you three secure this location. The rest of us will flank the remaining one on our side."

"Enemy numbers are starting to become thick at the south entrance," BT-7274 'spoke'. "I estimate I can hold this position for no longer than another five minutes before being forced to give up ground. They will likely reroute toward your formations."

His deep mechanical voice sounded as though it was broadcasted into her brain rather than her ears in the way that the Para-RAID normally worked – it had been disconcerting hearing that the first time when he first managed to synchronise to their Para-RAID channel, but they were all now getting used to it.

"Got it. We'll clean them up by then. Wehrwolf, the Stier on your end is heading northward."

"Damn. Gotta hate those Black Sheep. Griffin, take the left; we'll cut it off."

There was another brief lull in communications, though the din of battle still raged on, the anguished cries of the Black Sheep just barely audible to their ears. Kurena took the chance to snipe another Löwe and a pair of Ameise that had been travelling out in the open, attempting to reroute from the south toward Shin's team.

"Third group of Stier is down," Shin confirmed. "Wehrwolf, you –"

"EVERYONE, TAKE COVER!" Handler One screamed over the Para-RAID, sheer panic in her voice.

Then, Shin paused. "Scatter!"

An instant later, as a shriek of sound assailed their ears, explosive shells rained down from the sky, littering the already-ruined city. Though within the cockpit of her Juggernaut, the sounds from outside thankfully dampened, all Kurena could hear for the next few seconds was the ringing in her own ears.

Skorpions.

"– Skorpions; sixty kilometres northwest! They had been hiding under concentrated Eintagsfliege jamming!" she caught Major Milizé rattle out in a flurry of words, once her hearing had covered. "All Processors, respond… please!"

"We're all fine, Handler One." Shin spoke a moment later. "We managed to take cover just in time."

"Still here on our end as well." Raiden grunted, coughing. "But the Stier –"

"Warning – critical damage sustained to shields. Taking hull damage. I can no longer hold this position for as long as initially anticipated." BT-7274 spoke, a slight distortion lacing his voice. "We will need to modify our plan of attack."

"You all need to retreat!" Handler One shouted. "If those Skorpions fire again –"

"There's nowhere to retreat," Shin spoke, grim. "There's nowhere to take cover outside of the city. We won't be able to dodge the Stier and the Skorpions forever if we want to make it all out of here. And if we stay, the Skorpions won't hesitate to destroy their fellow Legion if it means taking us all out."

"Then –"

"Our only option is taking out the Ameise conveying our positions." Shin's voice was focused. "Fourth platoon, Snow Witch, Gunslinger – reinforce BT's location. We can't let them regroup and defend the spotters. Handler One, I can't pinpoint all the Ameise – we're counting on you to tell us where to move."

"Right! Undertaker, there should be a group of two hiding on the building to your eleven o'clock, distance 400!"

"I see them. Moving to engage."

There was a brief pause. "Griffin, six o'clock, 500!

Kurena turned her focus toward her task. BT-7274 was taking cover behind a partially destroyed bridge, but the Legion were trying to flank him. The Titan's armour was mildly singed, blue sparks dancing in the air around him, which she assumed were his shields attempting to recharge. All around, from where he had initially approached the city to where he had been forced to retreat to, a path of destruction had been carved through several dozen destroyed Legion units.

It was a good thing BT-7274 was an ally. If he were one of the Legion, she doubted that even Shin could match BT in combat with just a Juggernaut.

From the side, she began to ambush that group before they could reach firing range of BT. A rain of artillery fire cut off the group from the other flank. Anju spoke over the Para-RAID. "Black Dog, I'm reloading. Take over for me, won't you?"

"It would be my pleasure, Snow Witch."

… those two really needed to get a room. Anyone with eyes could tell they were just dancing around each other with all their back-and-forth teasing.

"Fafnir, Helianthus, Leukosia; there's another trio by your seven o'clock!"

Slowly but surely, it was working. There were many spotters in this enemy battle group – more than what they were normally used to, and several of them were Black Sheep, able to adapt and retreat once they realised they were being picked off.

"Skorpions will be ready to fire again in less than three minutes," Handler One's spoke, tense. "Three more groups of spotters left. Undertaker, there's one by your one o'clock. Kirschblüte, Gunmetalstorm, Laughing Fox, there's another by the northeast of the city, distance 1250. The last is near the centre, but…"

"Getting there won't be easy," Shin finished. "They're Black Sheep, and they're only peeking out when the Stier is ready to fire. With the way they're holed up, we can't attack from afar."

Kurena spared a moment to move out into the open, trying to catch a visual of the target. Sure enough, there was just a glint of metal, but it was in such a fortified location that even she wouldn't be able to snipe it down from here.

"We're nearing the one on our end as well, but getting to them won't be easy," Kaie informed them, her voice worried. "We can make a push, but some from the south have managed to retreat and guard their position. We might not be able to break through with just the three of us."

"Two and a half minutes left," Shin said. "I can destroy the targets on my end. But if we don't get rid of them all…"

He trailed off. His words didn't need to be said. For even Shin to be stumped on the field, audibly frustrated, the situation was dire.

"We can try and break through," Kirschblüte said bravely, though her voice shook slightly. "We can't afford to let the Skorpions fire again. Undertaker – if we don't make it –"

"No!" Handler One protested. "You can't!"

There was a moment of silence. Though she tried to suppress it, Kurena couldn't help the fear gripping at her, even as she continued to force the Legion units behind cover with continued sniper fire. Kaie was one of her closest friends – and she had come so close to losing her just days ago. If she died today…

"Understood."

"Undertaker?!"

"It's the only way, Handler –"

"Spearhead Squadron," BT-7274 interrupted. "Disengage. I will eliminate the Ameise and secure your retreat."

Kurena argued immediately. "But your shields –"

"Simulations indicate that your proposed course of action has a seventy-two percent chance of success, and with Processor death occurring at ninety-four percent probability. What remains of my shields and the structural integrity of my hull will be able to sustain itself long enough for me to directly charge and eliminate all targets in this sector. Should the need arise, I can cause my reactors to go critical and bring them down with me."

"But you'll be destroyed!" Handler One protested.

"Critical damage is only expected at sixty-three percent probability. My directives are to complete the mission and to protect my pilot. Analysis determines that the greatest likelihood of securing the former objective is through my proposed course of action. Protocol Three will be secured if you protect my pilot in my stead, in the thirty-seven percent chance that I am disabled in combat."

"Two minutes," Shin warned. "Handler One, we need a decision now!"

"I –" she choked out after a moment's indecision. "I… BT… I'm sorry…"

"Affirmative. Initiating Legion loadout."

Legion. The name of their enemies, that sparked fear in all who heard it, even if they had never seen the mechanical hordes in person.

"Find him for me. Find my pilot. Find and protect Jack Cooper."

She watched, as BT placed the chaingun he had been using to an internal compartment, unfolding and assembling a massive rotary cannon. "Predator Cannon primed and ready. Deploying Gun Shield."

BT-7274 stepped out of cover, the gun spinning up as he did so, a seemingly endless barrage of bullets flying from the cannon as he fired into the thick of enemies that had converged on his location. A blue translucent dome sprung into being in the middle of the gun, deflecting the machine gun fire of Ameise attacking him.

"I will begin my advance – Spearhead Squadron, I advise –"

"W-wait!" Handler One suddenly blurted out. "I – the Ameise at the north-eastern end suddenly disappeared! Kirschblüte, do you have a visual?"

"What? But we were just –" Kaie's voice was filled with surprise, and Kurena knew that she would be turning her craft around from where she had begun her reluctant retreat from the battlefield. "They… they're not there!"

"I don't hear them, either," Shin confirmed. "Laughing Fox, do you see anything from your angle?"

"Not yet," he said. "I'm moving out of cover, but…"

"Wait!" Anju shouted. "Kirschblüte, there's something moving by your nine o'clock! It just passed behind a building, but –"

"I saw it too!" Daiya spoke quickly. "It was just a blur, but it looked almost like…"

"I see him!"

…him?

"There's… someone flying between buildings?"Kujo continued, sounding confused, but also awed. "I swear I'm not seeing things! He just looped around a corner – Laughing Fox, you should be able to –"

"What the hell… I see him too!"

"Ah." BT-7274 suddenly cut in, a deep rumble in his voice, that Kurena only belatedly realised was a chuckle. "Took you long enough. Revising battle strategy. Spearhead Squadron, return to the original plan."

"BT-7274, you know what's going on?"

"Of course." BT was aiming down his cannon, transitioning to suppressive fire rather than the suicidal charge he had been about to perform. "That would be my pilot."

-x-x-x-

In more ways than one, Jack Cooper thought that maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew.

As it turned out, over the past two weeks or so that he'd been travelling the war-torn lands of the Republic of San Magnolia, plenty of bits and pieces of Typhon had made the jump to this unknown planet. Most weren't of interest – merely bits of rubble or metallic walls bearing the IMC logo, if they weren't just chunks of earth – but he had come across parts of what had once been an IMC armoury.

He had looted new weapons, replenished his stocks of ordnance, and loaded himself with plenty of magazines, before ultimately setting down charges to blow the entire stockpile to kingdom come, just in case the drones came across these caches as well and began to study them.

He had, however, underestimated just how big an explosion that could have caused. It had almost immediately highlighted his position to the drones – some of which exhibited frighteningly astute skills in tracking and observation – and had begun to bunker himself down in a ruined city, hoping to take cover and hide while waiting things out. If things continued going south, he could still abuse the dense cityscape to outmanoeuvre his enemies, and find an opportunity to make an escape.

That had been the plan. He liked to think it was a smart plan, for someone who had been only a rifleman up till recently. He had rudimentary pilot training, but aside from his time on Typhon, he simply didn't have all the skills that could only be learned through experience as a pilot alone.

And then, well – drones had started destroying other drones, and he wondered if he hadn't just dozed off in his exhaustion.

From his little hiding hole, up to the north of the city, he had witnessed other variants of spider-like craft that possessed four legs beginning an assault, after the majority of the drones stationed within the city attempting to flush him out had moved toward the south. It took a while, but eventually, he concluded that these new set of drones couldn't be unmanned crafts – their movements were too human-like, relying more on instinct than calculation, in the same way that one could easily tell apart a Titan controlled by a pilot through their neural link from an auto-Titan functioning on the basis of its own artificial intelligence.

He had weighed his options – though it was likely that the new arrivals were human-operated, he did not know whether he would be treated as a hostile. Hence, he did not immediately make contact with their faction, instead skirting around the periphery of the battle, taking out isolated targets he knew were enemies by the fringe of the battle, keeping his movements discrete rather than zipping and flying around the battlefield as pilots tended to do.

That, however, changed when artillery fire bombarded across the city from where, according to his helmet, originated from a point approximately sixty kilometres away.

When he finally peeked out of cover, after the bombardment had halted, the landscape had changed. Whatever had initiated that attack had also destroyed several of the autonomous drones. Buildings had been toppled; walls had been blown cleanly away from the ground.

But there – now that apartment complexes and buildings had been levelled, he was allowed a clear line of sight toward the other end of the city from where he had hidden himself.

"BT…"

After weeks of searching, travelling across war-torn and lifeless lands, he had finally found his Titan.

And he would be damned if he allowed this legion of mindless drones to swarm and overwhelm BT-7274.

He would return the favour, and protect his Titan.

In his time on this planet thus far, he had been able to pick up a few observations, even though he had no means of confirming them. Each of the models of enemy drones excelled in particular areas. One of the most common variants – those equipped with machine guns, but with the least fortified armour – had been the greatest threat to him while he sneaked his way across the contested territory of the Republic, because of their comparatively greater sensory capabilities.

From his vantage point, he could see the entire battlefield. The unknown party had abruptly switched their tactics following the bombardment – where they had been targeting the long-range artillery variants present at the battlefield as two focused streams initially, they were now fanning out across the entire city, seeking out clusters of these variants that there in hiding. Several of them had repositioned, providing support fire to his Titan.

He did not know how exactly it came to be, but it was clear that they and BT-7274 were on the same side.

With that, he abandoned his cover – and joined the battle as a true pilot.

A quick series of bursts of his jet-pack to build up speed, maintained with short stretches of wall-runs and jumps. A firing of his grappling hook to navigate a bend, narrowing the arc of travel with a continuous flare of his jump kit. Driven by instinct, all the techniques and tricks imparted by Lastimosa and forged in the Pilot's Gauntlet returned at once.

Right now, this entire city was the Pilot's Gauntlet. The spider-like drones were no dummy targets, but they were felled by volleys of mosquito rockets all the same. The Militia record for completing the Pilot's Gauntlet had been twenty-five seconds, with a sustained travel speed of over sixty kilometres per hour. He had seen that list of names of Militia pilots he strived to one day emulate – G. Sager held the current record, with Lastimosa at a respectable fifth place.

"WARNING – VELOCITY EXCEEDING SAFE LIMITS."

Now, in a city filled with plenty of points to use as he freely wished, without the tight bends and short run-up times of the Gauntlet, he was close to joining the leagues of those personal heroes of his.

It was liberating. He allowed himself to be visible for scant few moments before disappearing around bends, sliding into buildings where the drones were too large to navigate through, emerging from the other end and continuing on his hunt. Few paid attention to him – there was no reason to look up – and he slipped across the battlefield unseen, destroying isolated enemy scouts.

Then something caught his attention. A trio of the quadrupedal vehicles were attempting to make a push toward a group of spotters that had bunkered themselves in what had once been a parking lot, but could not easily break through the ranks of enemies that were in their way. Sniper fire was not an option, since the scouts had hidden themselves behind cover. Likely, they would only peek out to convey enemy locations once the artillery was ready for a second round.

If they wanted to eliminate those units, it would need to be up close – they would need to make it past two streets, climb seven floors, and hope that the enemy did not escape during that time. Even if they could scale the outer surface of the building, trying to get to the enemy position would be difficult, with how narrow an opening there was for entry.

Narrow for their crafts, however, was generous dimensions for a pilot.

And with that – still travelling at over sixty kilometres per hour, rising with each new boost of his jump kit, he headed toward that new objective. While those on the ground were engaged in battle, he slipped by a flanking route, using the longer distance travelled as he circled around a building to instead build up speed with his grapple line. He angled himself, adjusting his trajectory with a few flares of his jetpacks, and then disconnected the line, sending him flying straight toward the fortified enemy locations, bypassing their comrades on the ground entirely.

By the time they reacted to his presence, trying to secure their aim as he slid on the ground – jetpacks still burning – he had already thrown a pair of grenades toward them, and was unloading half a magazine of mosquito rockets from his Sidewinder.

Just as quickly as he arrived, he transitioned from out of his slide, leaping away from the building and searching for other targets to eliminate. Some speed had been lost in this manoeuvre – his pilot's helmet now had it at forty kilometres per hour – but he was building it back up again.

His antics, however, were starting to draw attention unto him. Units on the ground were looking skyward, and each time he appeared as a blur when navigating around buildings, a hail of machine gun fire followed in his wake.

How many more of them were there? Could he yet re-join BT-7274, or were they still at risk of being caught out by a second bombardment? It would be easier if the neural link were active, or if radio communications weren't being jammed, but at present, there was no way to communicate with BT. It was frustrating – given that BT had allied with these unknown pilots, it seemed likely that he was kept abreast of the situation on the battlefield.

But if that's the case…

He'd been stupid. Throughout the greater part of their time on Typhon, all they had been able to count on was each other. Though he and BT had been temporarily separated after they'd been captured by the Apex Predators, they had otherwise always been in contact with each other. The thought of having an intermediary communicate on his behalf hadn't even crossed his mind.

And so, he deliberately revealed his position – choosing to travel lower down; killing his speed just slightly when he entered the sightlines of potential friendlies.

"COOPER!" BT's voice boomed from nearly the entire end of the city, blasted by the powerful speakers of the Titan's chassis. If radio or the neural link didn't work, there was always the tried and tested old-school methods. "You need to breach the Legion's position in the middle of the city, two and a half kilometres from my position at heading 013! You must disable the Ameise stationed there within the next eighty-four seconds!"

He had no idea how BT knew of this 'Legion' or 'Ameise', but considering the situation, it was pretty clear what they each were. The systems on his pilot's helmet translated BT-7274's words perfectly as he spoke, marking down BT's position, and extrapolating that to where the enemy had fortified themselves.

On his HUD, his objective was clearly stated: DISTANCE TO TARGET: 1837m.

It was insane. He would need to travel at close to eighty kilometres an hour to even make it in time – and that was if he moved in a perfectly straight line. Pilots regularly travelled at such speeds, but a maintained pace for a prolonged period of time could easily spell injury, even with their jump kits and training. Even making it to that speed in the Pilot's Gauntlet was a challenge for trained pilots with far more experience than himself.

But he had to do it. Protocol Two – uphold the mission. As it had been on Typhon, where forty million lives had hinged upon them both stopping the IMC, failure was not an option. He would not lose his Titan.

BT had always been the one bailing him out on Typhon. Now, it was his turn to show what a pilot could do.

Trust me.

"Trust me, BT," he muttered, air resistance building against the speeds he was now pushing himself.

"WARNING – WARNING – SUSTAINED TRAVEL EXCEEDING SEVENTY-FIVE KILOMETRES PER HOUR CAN RESULT IN –"

"Oh, shut up already!" he snarled, and the safety warnings on his helmet silenced themselves.

75… 77… 82… 87… 83… 92… 86…

With each movement, momentum was gained and shed, and he kept an eye on the speed displayed on his helmet, painfully aware of the timer ticking down. A frontal assault was suicidal, now that he was starting to garner attention. If he wanted to breach the location, he would need to either circle around slowly, using each building as cover where he couldn't enter and emerge them, or build up enough speed to clear a path into the enemy fortification in a single movement.

TIME REMAINING: 1:01.

Only a minute remaining. There was still a kilometre separating him and the target. But if he needed to avoid the enemy fire on the ground, then –

And then, one of BT's allies steered his way into the thick of action, engaging the enemies on ground level. He weaved in between them, slicing them with blades attached to his craft, or blasting them with cannon-fire from up close.

"Undertaker and Wehrwolf will provide cover for your advance," BT-7274 boomed once more. "Take out the Ameise, Pilot!"

Right. That was a solution. Without the neural link, and BT continually providing real-time tactical information through his helmet, he had completely forgotten to factor in for these possible allies.

He pushed through, ignoring his earlier plans of taking an indirect approach. At speeds of now nearly a hundred kilometres per hour – growing with each new movement – he leapt between walls, created shortcuts through long-abandoned corridors of buildings, and grappled his way between points of varying elevation, all in a mad bid to rush toward the enemy location. They were located near the top of a clocktower that dwarfed nearly the rest of the city.

TIME REMAINING: 0:08

There was a narrow opening to where the Ameise had holed themselves. He twisted, rolling in mid-air, Sidewinder held out, barely making it through the gap.

TIME REMAINING: 0:07

These, however, were ready for him, what with how obvious he had made his approach. Machine gun fire followed in the wake of his entry, and it was only an instinctual roll that put him behind cover that saw him to safety.

But now his momentum was killed. All he had was part of a collapsed steel beam that he was crouching behind. Projectiles were flying just overhead, and he had no opportunity to peek out and retaliate.

TIME REMAINING: 0:06

What options did he have? As a rifleman, he'd been in this same situation many times before, thrust up against an IMC pilot with the rest of the 41st Militia Rifle Battalion. In every case, they had to rely on Lastimosa or other Militia pilots to engage in combat, before they were able to provide any form of cover fire. To do otherwise often meant having entire sections wiped out – no single soldier could fight toe to toe against a Titan.

TIME REMAINING: 0:05.

But now, he had no choice. His life – and more importantly, that of his friend – hinged upon him successfully completing this mission. BT had trusted him.

And, well – he was no longer a mere rifleman.

He deployed two holo-pilots – one to his left, and one to his right.

These Ameise were clearly more intelligent than the ones he was used to seeing, because they focused on both targets at once, the trio of them splitting their fire across both projections.

They failed to notice the cloaked Pilot who had leapt up, capitalising on their distraction, and repositioned himself quickly, completely abandoning his cover.

TIME REMAINING: 0:03

They had, within the second, figured out the ruse. They were looking around, scanning the area, searching for where their target had disappeared off to.

Once again – they failed to look straight up, where he was currently hanging to the ceiling while securing a perfect shot, too used to warfare that played out in two dimensions.

TIME REMAINING: 0:02

A series of focused fire was snapped toward each target, his cloak dissipating the moment he pulled the trigger.

TARGET DESTROYED.

He had upheld the mission. He allowed himself a wry smile, wondering just how it was he had gone from cowering before Titans to pulling off what he suspected few pilots in the Frontier ever got to experience.

He didn't have time to rest, however.

He had a Titan to reunite with, and nothing was going to stand in his way.