Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Marvel, Respawn Entertainment, etc.
I'm ashamed to admit that I only just saw Big Trouble in Little China for the first time this weekend and let me tell you that was a ride. Great film, entertaining from start to finish.
ScreamingStuka: Good to hear you enjoyed it, I was experimenting a bit, but this chapter is back to my more typical setting of being in the action as opposed to strictly observing it. Sabaton is my go to get up and get moving music, and some of my favorite to write to. Curious if you gave Iced Earth a listen because I really can't recommend them enough, start with 'The Devil to Pay.'
I'm not going to waffle on for too much, this is part two to the Battle of Prokhorovka, which is a name I shamlessly stole from the site of one of the most famous tank battles in history during Operation Citadel, better known as the Battle of Kursk. And I couldn't do an event based on that without featuring the Sabaton song about that same battle, 'Panzerkampf' which translates to mean 'Armored Battle' I believe. Off the album 'The Art of War' where it is track nine and corresponds to the chapter entitled 'The Army on the March' which pertains to moving through enemy territory, it is no surprise that the clash of two of the largest armies was chosen as the subject. It is a personal favorite tune, it's not too hard or too fast, it's slow and deliberate pace, the rousing lyrics, and the well it tells the story really embody what the band does well. It's also about the best subject after all: Tanks!
The band has said that they didn't believe in it initially, but over the years it has slowly risen to become a live staple because it is everything the band does well, but I think it's put over the top by the powerful chorus and how easy it is to sing along to. Put it on, crank up the volume, and sing along. Onward comrades! Onward for the Soviet Union, charge!
Power Without Question – Chapter 102: Panzerkampf
The end of the third Reich draws near
Its time has come to an end
The end of an era is here
Its time to attack
Into the motherland the German army march
Comrades stand side by side to stop the Nazi charge
Panzers on Russian soil a thunder in the east
One million men at war
Soviet wrath unleashed!
A sleeping Matthew Cooper noticed a shift in his sleeping surface and jolted awake, finding himself looking up at BT, who had the hammock that both he and Felicia were sleeping in suspended between his forearms. "Major Cooper, it is oh-five twenty," informed the Titan dutifully, his mechanical voice as low as the light emanating from his eye. "There have been no changes to our situation."
"Got it, thanks buddy," answered Cooper, pushing the last vestiges of grogginess from his mind. Feeling a shift next to him, Matthew turned to see Felicia's green eyes flutter open. Like him, she was in her gear sans signature eyewear and hood. "Rise and shine babe, we got work to do," he murmured before giving her a quick kiss, "It's going to be a busy day."
She smiled, but Matt couldn't help but notice a bit of hesitation, "For you Cowboy. I'm a bit out of my element." He could see how that bothered her, even if she did her best to hide it. "Don't worry about me, I'll hang back and keep an eye on things, let you know if something happens. Just come back so we can share that bottle of champagne I brought to celebrate."
"Really? You found a way to keep it chilled?" asked Cooper, matching the smirk he could see on her face.
"Mmhmm," hummed the Black Cat, "I installed a fridge in one of the vehicles while you were teaching your course and made sure to pack it yesterday. Don't let it go to waste stud."
The Marauder leaned in and planted a kiss on Felicia's lips that lasted as long as it could, but not really long enough. "Promise," he said before rolling back over, "Alright BT, open up," he ordered and the Titan complied, the hatch opening to reveal the cockpit. Reaching up, Cooper grabbed one of the Vanguards massive fingers and pulled himself up, swinging a leg over the edge of the hammock and used his free hand to grab the handle on the inside of the hatch to pull himself into the cockpit.
While he was still dressed, he had taken off his jump kit, helmet, and web gear before going to sleep, so the Pilot quickly reequipped his gear before tossing Felicia's over to her and jumping down. The impact of his boots hitting the ground caused a twig to snap, just one of the branches from the forest that surrounded Cooper and his 'students,' concealing them from any prying eyes that might be loitering overhead.
Yesterday hadn't been easy, and there had been some mistakes, but Cooper had gotten BT-7274 and the rest of the 7th Armored Assault Battalion down from Studzianki and into a position where they could engage the Loyalists that Black Widow had spotted. The difficulties of such a movement were fully known to Cooper because, since the 7th was a newly formed unit, he had to act as their commanding officer, learning on the fly how to organize and command the movement.
On the way down, he learned from Black Widow, who, along with her SHIELD team, had stayed at Studzianki, that Silver Sable was engaged with the force she had reported. Cooper however, had been unable to raise the Symkarian, likely because of the IMC like jammers that Romanov reported the Loyalist force had. That had led to him sending one of the drones BT carried to let Sablinova know just who was coming down to help her and where they were. Thankfully, the autonomous craft had been able to carry out its assignment, and returned later with a reply from Silver, including the order that temporarily assigned him to be the commanding officer of the 7th, meaning it was his job to lead the people he had been training into battle.
If he was being honest, that thought weighed heavily on his mind.
"Sir," greeted Apone, the Command Sergeant Major startling the Marauder from his worries.
"Apone," returned Cooper before he saw a hint of movement and turned to see a drowsy looking Edwards emerge from behind BTs leg, "Edwards."
"Morning Sir," returned the Scotsman before turning towards Apone. "Good morning Sergeant Major."
"How do you know what kind of God damn day it is?" snarled back Apone with a completely straight face, enunciating each word with exacting slowness.
Edwards was shaken thoroughly awake and sufficiently cowed by the older man's reply. Cooper was just trying to prevent himself from laughing hard enough for his subordinates to hear him through his helmet. After a few seconds, Matt got himself under control and spoke, "You always know what to say to brighten up my morning Sergeant Major. Hopefully you two slept well, because it's time to get to work. Edwards, anything change that I need to know about?" The Lance Corporal shook his head. "Good, looks like the only folks getting surprised are the sonsofbitches on the other side of that railroad track. Speaking of, any changes there?"
"Here are the images from the last drone pass, about half an hour ago," replied Edwards as he handed Cooper a tablet. The Marauder looked through them quickly, only really looking at the circled differences from the ones he had looked at only four hours prior before going to sleep. Sable was still on the high ground to the south of the village, which was occupied by the Loyalists. Cooper and the 7th were west northwest of the village, right on the Loyalists right flank. Between the forest where they currently were, and the village, was a railway embankment that ran southwest-northeast. This would keep his men hidden from direct enemy fire until they were ready to cross it and engage. If the Loyalists figured out where Cooper and 7th was, then they would have to expose themselves by going over the top.
On the other side, the terrain was open, with some hills and undulations, enough to give him cover that he could exploit with BT, but not so many as to limit the mobility of the tanks. Judging by the highlighted locations of Loyalist forces on the photographs Cooper was looking at, they were preparing to hit Sable on both her flanks, since their forces seemed to be concentrated on either side of the town. Not grouped up enough for them to be a massive artillery target, but tight enough to be able to easily fend off any attack Sable or Cooper could throw at them, especially in the ruins of Prokhorvka, which gave them an advantage.
The Marauder couldn't help but frown when he saw that the Titans that Black Widow had reported were on the east side of town, poised to attack Silver's right, and on the far side of the enemy formation from Cooper's western position. He was in Symkaria to beat Titans, and he was so close but so far from them that it was frustrating.
But he had to put that aside; he had to do more than just up his kill tally. Sablinova had told him that his job would be a counterpunch, to wait for the Loyalist forces to show their hand and commit. Only then was he supposed to hit them where they were most vulnerable, and with him being so badly outnumbered, speed and surprise were the only ways he could make something like that work. Once he committed the 7th to go over the railway embankment, and into the fight, there would be no turning back.
Before that moment could happen though, the entire Battalion had to be at the ready. "Okay gentlemen, let's get to it."
"Kaiser, gimme a hand with this," ordered Williamson as he lugged a pair of jerry cans back towards his T-84, feeling the weight a bit more than he did a few years ago. The younger German jumped down from the engine deck and came to help his TC with one of the 40-pound, diesel filled, metal cans. Both men carried the cans towards Bronco to top off the tanks of the Oplot-M after the long drive the day before. The Ukranian MBT was covered by high tech camouflage netting that served to keep the 55 ton machine hidden from the human eye as well as thermal and electronic detection. "Ludy, can you toss down the funnel?"
The third member of the crew was busy giving all the sensors, countermeasures, and ERA panels a once over, double checking that they were all in good working order, especially since the ERA panels in particular had been quickly reactivated the previous day. Still, when Mack called, Ludy answered, sliding down the roof to the rear of the turret and unzipped one of the bags strapped to the tank before pulling out the large refueling funnel and rolling it across the engine deck. "Thanks," grunted the TC as he hefted the jerry can onto the engine deck and was about to clamber up and refuel the T-84 when he heard a voice behind him.
"Everything looking good here Truck?" asked the recognizable, filtered drawl of the Marauder. The Tank Commander turned around to face the Pilot, who was wearing the green fatigues, grey armor, exoskeleton, and familiar striped helmet with its blue visor piercing the morning mist. "No big problems after the ride down?"
"No sir," replied the Montanan, checking over his shoulder to watch as his driver set to work refueling the vehicle. "Everything seemed to be alright, it probably helped that we already had our maintenance day for the week though. But every crew is going to be doing a thorough check this morning, don't worry Major, we'll be ready."
In the short time that Williamson had known the Titan Pilot, Mack felt like he had gotten a good measure of the man, even if the Marauder hadn't told any of them his name. He hadn't always been in his kit, and Mack had gotten a good look at him and could tell he was young, and despite his cocky attitude, the Major was not taking anything, outside of his ability to pilot his Titan, for granted. So when someone asked the Pilot how come Sablinova referred to him as 'Major' even if he wasn't a part of Sable International, Mack wasn't at all surprised when he replied, "Battlefield promotion."
The Marauder carried himself like a veteran far more than his age would suggest, that much was obvious, and, even if he didn't have as many years under his belt as most O-4s, his natural decisiveness and confidence made him a born leader. It also helped that, just like he said, the Marauder had beaten everyone in their mock engagements. Even when he showed all the tank crews the footage and broke down what he was doing, the very next round of training would yield the exact same results. None of the various teams had been able to get one over on him in the two weeks they were there. Some had speculated that he had his girlfriend keeping tabs on them, but none of the Sable soldiers had ever caught sight of her, even on their thermal optics.
Mack had to concede that, if she was out there helping him, she was just as good at what she did as the Marauder was, and it made sense why she had come with them.
So, it wasn't much of a shock that the entire unit had responded so readily when he came and said they were ending training early. Everyone respected him one way or another, and now that they were about to engage the Loyalists again, there had been musings about what their impromptu CO would do. There was also a pool going on how many Loyalist titans he was going to add to the painted tally on his Titan.
But here he was, checking in on the guys he had been kicking the snot out of for two weeks before the action started and still sounding as cool as ever. It only reinforced Mack's early assessment, he knew that there were good officers and bad officers, and that this kid was the former.
"Good to hear," replied the Pilot as he watched the other two members of Broncos crew work on the vehicle. "I'll leave you to it, 'cause we're the cavalry today. That means when Sable hollers, we ride to the rescue."
If she had heard the Pilot say those words, Silver Sablinova might have objected to the phrasing. Another part of the Symkarian, however, the part that was running on two hours of sleep and constantly pouring over every miniscule update she got and seeing how dire the situation could be, would have begrudgingly agreed with the Marauder. The third, and smallest part of the Sable would have been amused at the irony of the man she had considered a cowboy when she had first encountered him being the one to come to her aid like one of those old American western movies.
A rustling sound from the other side of the rear compartment of the BTR-80PBKM pulled the Symkarian from her thoughts as she watched Mary Jane slowly wake up. The American raised her arms in a stretch before her hands ret the metal roof of the vehicle, the unexpected sensation seemingly shocking her from her drowsy stupor as her eyes snapped open attentively. "Of course you're already up," grumbled the journalist lowly, causing Sable to smirk as she went back to work. "Morning Sable, I didn't miss anything, did I?"
"You did not," replied Silver as she went over her force disposition for the dozenth time since she had woken up, fighting the urge to get inside her own head and make a change, which could make her vulnerable when she was expecting the Loyalists to attack at any moment. Finally forcing herself to look away from the screen as she reached over to grab a thermos and tossed to the redhead. "Drink."
The Associate Editor undid the lid and got a bit of steam in her face as the muted aroma of the coffee filled the vehicle. "Thanks," said the redhead sincerely before starting to down the contents of the thermos. While she did that, Sable busied herself checking if she had any air assets available to aid her, after spending most of the previous day focused on the longer front to the southeast, that front was finally secure enough that Sablinova was able to redirect some CAS sorties to her private little battle at Prokhorovka. While in the middle of that, Watson suddenly spoke, taking Silver by surprise. "So… when do you think it will start?"
Before Sablinova could answer, the sudden flashing of the incoming fire alert on the COBRA system caught her eye. Grabbing the offending tablet, Silver looked over the nature of the incoming fire and replied, "Right now."
Less than two hours after those first shells came in, and Mary Jane could tell that today was very different than yesterday. The Associate Editor was crouched down in a foxhole on the edge of 'Big Round Top' with her head and camera just peaking up over the lip to document the scene around her, knowing that images could not match the overwhelming sensations of the battle raging around her. In the distance, she spotted a string of telltale smoke plumes and ducked back down in the hole before a salvo of RPGs slammed into the hillside, throwing up rock, soil, and smoke with each impact. As soon as the smoke cleared, the redhead was poking her head back up, camera pointing to the tanks on Cemetery Ridge as they sent their reply, the vibrant red of their energy rounds scorching the ground until it turned black.
At first, the Loyalists had attacked in the same way they did yesterday, waves of tanks and vehicles that tried to close the gap and push the Sable troops back. Today they did not give ground, however, the mercenaries held firm, returning fire as their artillery quickly hammered any large enemy formations. The open ground between the Sable positions and the town was turned into a graveyard for man and machine alike. After that first initial assault, the Loyalists changed tactics, with most of them staying back in the village and spreading out as they laid a continuous stream of fire onto the entrenched defenders.
Curious, the reporter waited for a lull in the incoming fire before crawling over the top of the foxhole and making a quick dash to a Sable vehicle further up the hill that had been hit earlier in the day. The smoldering wreckage only useful as a temporary shelter from the incoming fire, but that was all the Associate Editor wanted as she snapped off a few pictures from the higher vantage point. Panning her camera west, Mary Jane took pictures of what remained of that first wave before spotting a hint of movement in the distance. Focusing in, the redhead could make out the distinct pointed nose turrets and green and brown camouflage of Loyalist tanks as they made their way south, seemingly unnoticed by the other Sable forces.
The sound of a shell hitting down the hill caused MJ to hit the ground as more pummeled the hill. When the fire stopped, the journalist got to her feet and spied Sables vehicle down at the base of Cemetery ridge. There were about 200 yards between MJ and the BTR, and the journalist tore off, knowing that she had to get down under the crest of the hill and out of the line of fire before the next round of shells came in.
Weaving through the few craters on the backside of the hill, MJ could already feel her burst of speed, and her breath, running out before she'd covered half the distance. Some small voice in the back of her mind said she shouldn't have blown off going to the gym so much back in New York before the predominant voice screamed back that she just had to keep going. What she had failed to factor in was how the slope slowed her down, especially since she had to watch her step amidst the pieces of shrapnel and debris that cluttered the hillside.
Thankfully, mercifully, Mary Jane felt the ground level out beneath her feet as her survival instinct finally relented amidst the burning in her legs and lungs, allowing her body to slow down for the last 75 or so yards. As she finally arrived at her destination, MJ stopped, but she mostly half collapsed against the cold steel of the BTR, propping herself up with one of the wheels as she caught her breath.
"Ms. Watson, are you alright?" said Sablinvoa in her accented voice, though MJ could detect a hint of concern, the first emotion she had heard from the Symkarian. At least it sounded like MJ was the most concerning thing she had seen all day, and considering her dirt covered chest plate and helmet as she was barely standing and breathing heavily, MJ had some idea as to why.
Holding up a finger to silently as for a moment, the redheaded Associate Editor then pointed back towards Round Top. "There are… Loyalists… way out there… trying to go around I think," she reported between heavy breaths.
When MJ looked up at Silver, she was met with the same emotionless expression the woman always wore, with the Symkarian merely blinking once in response to the news. "I know."
"You… know?" asked MJ, wanting to collapse to the ground right there.
"Yes, reconnaissance drones spotted them half an hour ago. Now that they are moving, they are vulnerable," said the Mercenary as she reached inside the vehicle and pulled out one of the wired telephones, pressing it to her ear. "Warwitch, Silver Bird. Armor in the open, grid HL 239 744, engage at your discretion," she said, pausing as MJ tried and failed to make out what was being said in reply before Sable answered, "Solid copy Warwitch, Silver Bird out."
MJ shot a questioning look up at Sable, but was ignored as the woman placed the telephone back inside and came back with a flare gun. Cracking it open to check that it was loaded, and seemingly satisfied, the Mercenary then raised the weapon into the air and fired it, sending the bright green signal flare into the sky. "What was that?" asked Mary Jane.
"That was a signal," answered the Symkarian flatly, "And because of it, you will want to get to the top of the ridge, because you will have a story crossing the railway embankment to the west in two minutes."
With that, Silver ducked back inside the BTR, leaving MJ to turn around and look at Cemetery ridge, grumbling before, with some considerable effort, putting one foot in front of the other as she started back up the slope.
"There's the signal, everyone stand by. Two minutes!" called out Cooper over the radio as he saw the flare high in the sky. It seemed that, in addition to having Titans, the Loyalists had whatever jamming equipment the IMC used, preventing him and Sable from communicating directly and instead forcing any communications to be routed back from the battle, sent up to Romanov at Studzianki, and then down to him. Springing the trap could afford no chances for that chain to break down, and so Sable had elected to use a simple signal flare to alert Cooper when she wanted him and the rest of the 7th to make their attack.
The Marauder Corps Pilot had been waiting for this moment for the last couple hours, and everyone with him was too. BT was at the edge of the tree line, crouched down alongside the rest of the heavily armored tank spearhead at the front of the 7th. And now all of those T-84s and BMPTs came to life, their diesel engines causing a rumbling deep in his chest as crews buttoned up and loaded their weapons. Behind him, the BTRs with the infantry held at idle, and yet further back, his artillery waited, the gun bunnies that manned howitzers ready to make their mark at a moment's notice.
But Matthew had one last preparation to complete as he turned to Felicia and tried to put on a cocky smirk, "You'd better not crack open the champagne before I get back," he warned dryly.
The Black Cat smiled, "Don't worry about that, I wouldn't be able to celebrate the way I wanted without you." With that, she reached up and pulled him down into a quick, intimate kiss as Matt's arm wrapped around her and then made its way down her back before giving her ass a squeeze through her suit right as she relinquished her grip on him. "What was that for?"
"For luck," replied the Pilot, nearly shouting as he pulled his helmet on. "For me, I'll see you on the other side Darlin."
"Give 'em hell Cowboy, and good luck," wished Hardy before she jogged off. She wouldn't have a place here; no sneaking or subterfuge would be required. Instead, Felicia would be with Apone, Edwards and the rest of E Company. As a headquarters unit, 'Easy Company' had an intelligence unit, communications, supply vehicles, mechanics, cooks, and logisticians. Ostensibly, this was the unit Cooper was in charge of, but with him leading the battalion, Apone had been put in charge of Easy Company. Their job would be to link up with Sablinova's unit and try to fix their communications issues if they persisted.
That meant it was just Cooper and BT, and just like old times, the Pilot turned to his Titan. "Well, you ready buddy?"
"I am Pilot," replied the Vanguard, eye blinking in time with each syllable. "I suggest you embark."
With that, the hatch opened to reveal the familiar cockpit inside as Matt jumped up, planting his foot on a metallic knee joint and then turning around as he sat inside the cramped space. The familiar buzzing and then chill of the neural link being established flooding his mind as he hit the switches to close the armored doors as he brought BT to his full height with just a thought. Ahead of him, the screens that usually acted as his window to the outside world were instead covered with the latest feeds from Munin, the UAV circling overhead. The Loyalist force that he had been keeping an eye on was now south of where the 7th was lying in wait. Cooper and the tanks with him would have to blitz through them before pushing onto the town. Dismissing the feeds with a thought, the Marauder watched as a barrage of missiles streaked overhead before several tanks on the drone feed turned into fireballs. Feeling a bit more confident, Matthew relaxed and spoke over the radio, "Sixty seconds to green light, all companies, sound off."
"Alpha Company Tanks, standing by," responded Captain Tosia Świrski, a no-nonsense Polish woman who had formerly commanded German built Leopard 2s with the 1st Warsaw Armored Brigade. While she had a good command of English including, as Matt had found out after a training engagement she lost badly, a thorough and extensive vocabulary of English curses when suitably provoked, though her accent was thicker than Sablinovas.
"Bravo Company is locked and loaded," followed up Captain Zvika Ronen. The veteran Israeli Defense Force tank commander had cut his teeth as a maverick Merkava platoon CO in the Golan Heights and Lebanon and was a rival to the perfectionist Świrski. With the Pole on his left and the Israeli on his right, Cooper was confident that both tank companies could keep up with him.
"Just make sure you leave some for us, okay? Charlie Company has your back," deadpanned the nearly unflappable Captain Brandon Mitchell. The Tennessee native was formerly of the Big Red One, the legendary US Army 1st Infantry Division, and veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan. He was in charge of the Battalions sole, if overstrength, infantry company.
Last, but certainly not least, was the 'Crazy Dane,' Captain Freja Højbjerg. "Delta Company is ready to support, we are green and very, very mean," she called out, the most 'gung-ho' of the Company Commanders. She was also the most unorthodox, probably because she had never served in her nation's military, instead joining Sable International and working her way up to her rank. But when it came to running the fire support company, including the artillery batteries, assault guns, SPAA vehicles, scout sniper squad, and Forward Air Controllers, her methods undoubtedly worked.
That they were all Captains, and the Marauder a Major, made Cooper the ranking officer, technically, which was why he was in charge. None of the Sable officers had questioned it, and so it fell on the Pilot who had never had to worry about anyone other than BT or Felicia, both of whom could take care of themselves, to lead over 400 of Sables troops into battle. There was nothing that could change that now, so the SRS Pilot gripped the controls of BT a little bit tighter as he watched the mission clock tick down in front of him. "All units, stand by to advance to contact on my mark," he said as calmly as he could manage as he watched the timer hit ten seconds. Time began to drag before he took deep, measured breaths until he spoke again. "Three… two… one. Mark."
The forty armored vehicles all started rolling out of the forest, heading for the railway embankment that served to conceal them for the moment. But as fast as the T-84s were, nothing was faster off the line than a Titan at full tilt. Weapon down and sprinting, the Vanguard covered the distance in a matter of moments, and soon Matt had to ease off to give the tanks a chance to catch up. Turning around, Cooper used BT to wave the Sable vehicles onward, "Over the top, don't stop!"
With the greater height of his Titan, Cooper was the first to crest the embankment and get a clear look at what lay ahead of them. Instantly deploying the Archer missile pods on BTs shoulders, the Pilot locked onto some of the tanks that were to his right, the Vanguards sensors picking out the ones that had survived the strike from the air support Sable had called in right before the 7th made their move. Thumb squeezing the button, Matthew launched the missile salvo, but didn't watch to see where they landed as he made a split-second assessment. "Bravo Company, clean these guys up but keep moving forward. Alpha, I want you to sweep around to the north of the village, tee the bastards up so Bravo can drive them back."
"Alpha company copies. All tanks, 30 degree left turn!" Called Świrski over the radio. In the corner of his screen, Matt could see all of her company's tanks make a perfect simultaneous turn, their turrets holding steady as each tank kept its cannon focused on its assigned sector, like a 21st century mechanized phalanx.
To his right, Ronen only acknowledged the order after his tanks and fired their first salvo, multiple rounds pulverizing the closest surviving Loyalist tanks. "Time to get stuck in Bravo, fire and maneuver!" ordered the Israeli as his Oplot-Ms swarmed the remaining enemy armored fighting vehicles.
They had achieved the element of surprise, and now they just had to maintain a stream of violence, speed, and momentum to make up for the numbers disadvantage they were operating at. If the enemy regrouped, then Cooper and the 7th would be in serious trouble, and that was precisely what the remains of the Loyalist tank force they had ambushed were trying to do. They had all reacted smartly, turning the front of their tanks, and their strongest armor, towards the 7th as they reversed back towards the village.
Activating the thrusters on the back of the Titan, Cooper felt BT surge forwards before dropping down, crashing to earth and putting the 40 ton Vanguard into a dead sprint to run down the retreating enemy tanks. Unsurprisingly, the Loyalist soldiers quickly took notice of the towering form of the onrushing Titan, Cooper watched the turrets turn towards him as he closed within 50 yards of the Loyalist tanks.
The same instant that one of the tank guns flashed, BTs Vortex Shield flared to life, the swirling blue light catching the incoming shells as they were fired at him. Through the dozen or so rounds he had caught, Cooper could see that there were still at least thirty enemy tanks ahead of him, outnumbering the twenty vehicles of B Company. Cooper and BT would have to equalize those odds.
Throwing the caught ordnance back at the Loyalist tanks, Cooper watched the two closest to him get hit multiple times. One errantly fell out of formation, smoke rising from its engine deck as it kept trundling backwards, but clearly out of control. It fared better than the second one however, a pillar of flame rising into the air as the ammunition cooked off inside the tank. Not sparing a moment to watch, Cooper urged his Titan forwards again, firing his dash thrusters to close the gap even further while the enemy was reloading. He had successfully gotten the attention of about a third of the Loyalist formation; the remainder being swiftly shredded by the Sable T-84s.
Faced with eight enemy vehicles at close range, Cooper used his Titans advantage in agility and weapons to start cutting through them. Hands dancing on the controls, he fired off a salvo of eight Archer missiles, the targeting computer assigning two weapons to each enemy vehicle as the weapons streaked off, errantly zig zagging down in a top attack, their HEAT warheads easily cleaving through the thin top armor of their targets, and four more Loyalist tanks were gone in the blink of an eye.
Only there was no time for the Marauder to celebrate, and on instinct as much as anything, he raised the Vortex Shield to brace for the inevitable return fire, only none came, and that was when he was met with a sight he couldn't believe. The Loyalist tanks were not firing, in fact, they had stopped retreating, and instead were rolling forwards, right at BT, closing the distance with the Titan. Cooper couldn't help but grin evilly at the prospect of them closing the distance for him. "If that's what you want, then come and get it."
Still holding the Vortex Shield up, Cooper urged his Titan to step forwards before hitting the thruster button and rocketing forwards and to the left, right through the enemy formation. Two of the Loyalist tanks fired their cannons, their shells flying off errantly as they tried and failed to track his sudden move. Being thrown against the bolsters of his ejection seat, Matt could feel BT wheel about at his command while the Vanguard raised the XO-16, Cooper having already wrested the reticle onto the rear of the trailing Loyalist tank.
Though it might have only been a 20mm weapon, the advanced ammunition combined with the thin armor on the rear of the tank meant that the XO-16 was soon chewing through the tanks power pack. SAP-HEI and Sabot rounds tore through the engine, causing it to belch black smoke before a fire broke out, licks of flame rising from the engine deck. It had taken the whole 30 round belt, but Cooper had reduced the fight to a 1 vs. 3, but now he needed to reload his gun and was still waiting for his Archers to replenish.
That didn't stop him from going on the offense however, working the controls to coax the 40 ton Titan forwards as he stowed the chaingun. The remaining Loyalist tanks were showering him with machine gun fire, the small slugs slamming ineffectually against the shields and hull as they brought their main guns to bear while Matt rushed at the tank he had just knocked out. Before they could fire their powerful cannons, BTs foot came down on the top of the burning Loyalist vehicle, the whole Titan lifting himself up off the ground without breaking stride, at least until Cooper fired the Dash Thrusters, causing him to rocket forwards off the wreck and through the air, momentum carrying BT as if he was hovering.
When the Vanguard finally returned to ground, he did so right next to one of the Loyalist tanks, having gotten around its turret again to be on the MBTs side. Cooper, knowing the others wouldn't need as long to turn their guns to face him, deployed a screen of electric smoke, enveloping himself and his Titan in a white cloud of the shocking countermeasure. Hidden from view, BT reached down and wrapped one massive hand around the back of the Loyalist tank and heaved, mechanical linkages grinding in protest as hydraulics whined against the force of gravity, but the Vanguard prevailed, and just in the nick of time.
Cooper could faintly hear the sound of the guns of the other two enemy tanks firing at such close range they couldn't miss, electric smoke or not. Indeed, they would have hit BT had Cooper not lifted the tank he was next too off his tracks and onto its nose before spinning it so that the top was facing its companions. The Marauder then had his Titan crouch behind the vehicle to use it as a shield. When the enemy tanks fired, their rounds had hit the unfortunate Loyalist tank that was between them and the Militia made Titan. Cooper could 'feel' the strain through the arms of BT as the enemy shells rocked his improvised shield.
But the tank had served its purpose to Cooper, who quickly discarded it, throwing the smoldering hulk forwards and onto its roof before bull rushing the last two tanks, empty guns still smoking. One reacted faster, backing up in a desperate bid to escape the Titans wrath, and Cooper let it for the moment as he reached out with on massive hand and grabbed on to the gun barrel of the other one. In a single swift motion, Cooper brought the Titans other hand down with such force he snapped the barrel in two before discarding the half he held in his hand.
With one tank defanged, Matt turned to the other, raising his Vortex Shield as he saw it swing its gun around and fire at him. As soon as he caught the shell, Cooper sent it right back, the HEAT round going into the tracks of the Loyalist vehicle and exploding, destroying one of the roadwheels and severing the track, immobilizing the vehicle. Defiant, the stationary vehicle continued to fire its machine guns at the Titan as it bore down on them.
Closing one of BTs hands into a fist, Cooper slammed down on the machine gun on the turret roof, shattering it and denting the roof of the turret. Slamming the metal fist down again, Cooper tore a gash in the steel, enabling him to get the Vanguards fingers in to peel open the steel armor like it was the lid of a tin can. Reaching inside, Matt guided BTs hand to grab the breech of the main cannon and rip it from its mount, rendering the vehicle both immobile and impotent.
Quickly tossing his trophy aside and turning around, Cooper saw the last Loyalist tank, destroyed cannon aimed at him, as it tried to drive around him and escape. Not about to let it, Matthew triggered BTs thrusters and dashed towards it, hand coming down as the tank drove past. Through the mental link, Cooper could feel BTs fingers fail to find purchase on the turret face, but kept pressing down, forcing grooves into the turret roof as the Titan ripped off the hatches. None of that stopped the tank however, what did was when Cooper drove the Vanguards fingers down into the engine deck, crumpled the thin metal, and grabbed hold of the transmission, ripping the vital automotive component out the rear of the tank.
With no more power going to the treads, the tank swerved violently, out of control, and veered into a shell crater, the sudden change in elevation for one track caused the machine to wedge itself into the earth with no way to dislodge itself.
A quick look around revealed that the only tanks left were Sable T-84s and BMPTs, so Cooper grabbed the Chaingun and loaded a fresh drum of ammunition, ready to press on.
"Yebena mat', did you see that Truck?" asked Lyudmila Smirnova over the radio, and Mack 'Truck' Williamson didn't need to ask what had drawn the rare Russian curse from the woman. He imagined that she had seen the same thing through her gunners' sight that he had through his own vision systems, that being the Marauder and his Titan absolutely decimating a formation of enemy tanks single handedly.
"See what?" asked Kaiser from his position in the hull. With only forward-facing view ports, the driver had missed the spectacle.
After a second, the TC gathered his wits, "You remember that bet we made about the Marauder, Bäke?"
"Yeah?" replied the German Driver.
"Well, you owe me 50 bucks," finished Williamson before finally looking away from the Titan. After Bronco and the rest of B Company had mopped up the enemy tanks they had ambushed, Ronen had ordered the vehicles that were still in fighting shape, which was all but two, to regroup. Now back in formation with the rest of 1st platoon, Truck assessed the battlefield around them on his display and saw that the dramatic attack by the 7th had changed things significantly.
It seemed that the Loyalist forces west of the village were trying to react to the appearance of the 7th. A Company had brought its full weight down on the flank of the entrenched infantry and soft skins to the north, causing them to reorient towards them as the units not directly engaged were falling back to the village. "Charlie company, circle north and rendezvous with Alpha. Bravo, follow me, they're going to be the anvil, and we'll be the hammer," called the Marauder over the radio.
Through his viewport, Truck could see that the Titan the Major was piloting was waving the tanks of B company on. "You heard the Major everyone. All platoons, line abreast and advance!" ordered Ronen, the aggressive Israeli eager to press the attack.
"Driver, go right, bring us around and pointing north. Gunner, load MPHIE," ordered the TC. The mechanical autoloader next to Williamson went to work, removing the sabot shell from the breach and then the mechanical arm swung one of the redhead rounds into the 125mm smoothbore gun. While Lyudmila reloaded the cannon, Herman worked the steering wheel to move the 50 ton tank into position with the rest of 1st platoon on the right side of B Company. "Gunner, scan, one to four o'clock, cleared to fire on anything that ain't on our side."
"Gun up, scanning!" reported the Russian gunner. Truck could feel the disconcerting sensation of the turret he was sitting in spin around while his vision remained fixed straight ahead, towards the bow of the tank.
"First platoon, bounding advance to that ridgeline, watch your sectors people," ordered the CO of 1st platoon as the tanks moved forwards. Both the platoon leaders tank and Trucks bounded up about 250 yards to a small ridgeline and took up position on the reverse slope, the drivers easing their respective vehicles up the gentle incline.
Mack had his eyes pressed to his optics, searching for targets on the other side of the hill when Ludy called out over the internal radio. "Contacts 2 o'clock! Identify soft skins, 600!" alerted the gunner, Truck swinging over his periscope to catch sight of the Chinese made ZBL 08 infantry fighting vehicle. A quick glance was all he got before he heard his gunner call, "On the way!" and felt the entire tank rock back from the recoil of the 125mm cannon as it sent its round downrange.
"Good effect on target," informed the TC as he watched the 8 wheeled vehicle buckle from the impact before multiple secondary explosions ripped it apart. He didn't watch the fireworks for too long however, and quickly searched for more targets, and he was spoiled for choice. Ahead of him were at least ten enemy vehicles, plus one or two structures that housed infantry, at least if the telltale white on his thermal optics were any indication. Faced with the shooting gallery, Truck picked the priority target, which was one that was poised to shoot back. "Gunner, MPHIE, IFV by that house!"
"Identified soft skin, range 750," reported back Smirnova as the turret traversed about 10 degrees and the autoloader swung in a fresh round. The breach closed with a loud mechanical 'thunk' as Ludy called out, "Up!"
"Fire!"
"On the way!" returned Ludy, pulling the trigger, with the breech of the gun flying back mere inches away from Truck's left arm and moving almost as fast as the shell that had left the barrel. "Target!" called the gunner, the round finding its mark and having much the same effect as the first.
But Mack didn't have time to search for more targets before a flashing light on his screen got his attention. "Driver, pull back! We're being painted!" snapped Williamson, "Popping smoke!" The view on his screen was completely blotted out by white smoke that was filled with metal flakes to break up whatever laser was looking at the Sable T-84, "APS is active!"
Like every T-84 Oplot-M in Sable International service, Bronco was outfitted with two complementary defensive systems that were managed by the on-board Battle System Management (BSM) computer. The first was a passive 'soft-kill' system, Shtora-1, made up of four components. The bank of smoke grenade launchers had already been employed in an effort to obscure the tank from whatever wished to lock onto it. The second part, the laser warning system that could detect when a laser designator was looking at the vehicle, was working quite well, at least if the flashing warning light on Truck's screen was any indication. Thirdly was the microprocessor that linked to the BSM computer and could automatically fire more smoke grenades if the system thought that the best counter. Even if those were employed, a pair of infra-red lights were mounted on the front of the turret, one either side of the gun and glowing red to give the impression that the tank had a pair of menacing eyes. These continuously emitted infra-red jamming against any heat seeking weapons.
That wasn't all. Working so fast the human eye couldn't process it, the three Zaslon 'Hard kill' Active Protection Systems used a multi-function doppler radar to detect and track the incoming missile before selecting which system had the incoming missile within its envelope. The systems were employed to cover the left arc, right arc, and top aspect respectively. Once the BSM had selected which node was the most optimal for defeating the incoming missile, Zaslon waited until the incoming warhead was within 50 meters of the tank before engaging. When the Quick Action warhead was fired, it had its own proximity fused explosive that detonated once it was within 1.5 meters of the incoming threat, the dense fragmentation ring formed from the detonation being enough to disable or destroy the incoming missile. And all of that was done in a little over 0.05 seconds.
It takes a human twice as long to blink.
Against the anti-tank missiles that would be employed by the IFVs and infantry in an attempt to defeat the T-84s, some of which could punch through more than a yard of solid steel, the formidable tanks needed to use every tool they had. Even the advanced composite armor and Duplet Explosive Reactive Armor could withstand so much punishment before the inevitable happened and the tank was penetrated. The survival of the Oplot-M, and the crew inside, depended heavily on Shtora and Zaslon.
A small flash from the incoming missile being intercepted and destroyed caused Truck to let out a small breath before shaking off the near-death experience, because they weren't out of the woods yet. Looking through his commander's scope, Truck saw the platoon leader's tank, which was still up on the ridgeline, fire its APS once, then twice, before more missiles streaked in. One was jammed and slammed into the ridgeline, but two more were not fooled and hit the T-84. A pair of bright flashes signified the ERA armor exploding in an effort to degrade the penetrative power of the warheads. And while the Duplet system successfully prevented a penetration, that didn't mean that the explosive power of the HEAT warheads was without consequence.
While he watched the wounded vehicle slowly reverse out of the line of fire, the radio in Mack's helmet came to life, followed by a cough from who he suspected was his platoon CO. "This is Specter 1-1, we've been hit. Gunner is wounded, optics damaged, and turret jammed. We are combat ineffective and under heavy fire. Request immediate assistance."
As soon as the TC of Bronco heard that, he heard Ludy shout so loudly that he didn't even need the intercom to hear her. "Soft skin, coming over the ridgeline, right there!"
He had been so engrossed in the plight of the tank next to him, Truck hadn't noticed that the remaining enemy vehicles were rushing right at him, but he reacted on what he heard. "Fire!"
"On the way!" called back the gunner before she squeezed the trigger, the range so close that she couldn't possibly miss. Mack could only watch as the red tipped Multi-Purpose High Intensity Energy shell smashed into the thin aluminum armor of the target, exploding in a brilliant burst of red light. The follow-on effects were instant and spectacular as the engine in the front of the hull was subjected to the massive wave of heat and deformed, with every flammable fluid in it simultaneously bursting into flames. The fireball that resulted shot out of the hole that the MPHIE shell had made while also tearing back further in the IFV until it reached the ammunition, which began to all detonate, looking like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Unlike before, Williamson didn't focus on that, instead he was already looking for more targets, or more threats. Looking left, he saw the knocked-out Specter 1-1, gun barrel dropping dejectedly, and a fireball from what he presumed was a Loyalist vehicle that had tried to come over the crest of the hill and fallen prey to the rest of the platoon a few hundred yards back. Swinging his viewer around to the right, Truck saw that the smoke screen he had fired was a double edged sword, as it allowed for the Loyalist vehicles to close without being annihilated by the rest of 1st platoon. Three of the IFVs that did burst through it, coming over the ridge at full tilt and trying to flank the embattled Sable T-84. With the press of a button, Mack slaved the gun to his optic, swinging the turret around to face this new threat as he spoke. "Driver, reverse, left hand down. Front of the tank to the right Kaiser," added the TC, just to make sure there wasn't an error at this life for death moment.
Diesel engine snarling, the tracks of the Oplot-M dug into the earth and swung the tank around, bringing their strongest armor to face the three APCs, one of which had deployed its own smoke screen to obscure them from the rest of 1st platoon so they could gang up on Bronco. "Gun ready!" called Smirnova as the breech locked into place.
Mack's sole priority was to keep all of these enemies in front of him, where the best armor on the tank was. The side armor was only fractionally as effective, and if it weren't for the ERA then even the 30mm chain gun would be able to turn the MBT into Swiss cheese, and the rear of the T-84 didn't even have ERA. That fact made choosing a target easy when the rightmost IFV began to turn to try and get on Broncos flank. "The one on the right, fire!"
Correctly anticipating which vehicle Truck would want her to target, Lyudmila already had the cannon laid on the target and her response was instantaneous. "On the way!"
The 2A46 smoothbore gun thundered its reply to the enemy that was poised to threaten the tank it was mounted on, and the redheaded energy round slammed into the turret of the thin skinned IFV. Truck watched through his optics as the turret went up in a massive secondary explosion, licks of flame emerging from the hole carved through the armor by the MPHIE shell.
But the other two Loyalist IFVs weren't deterred, especially since they knew that the T-84 had an empty breech. As they began to turn to rush down the Sable Tank, Williamson shot back with the HDEMG atop the turret, the red energy shots splashing uselessly against the armor of the oncoming vehicles. In response, the 30mm chain guns on the approaching wheeled vehicles began to pound on the armor of the Oplot like a drum, some of the hits triggering the bricks of ERA on the outside. Then, the IFV on the left stopped, the missile pod on the left side of its turret beginning to swing up into a firing position before there was a flash from the rocket motor as it fired.
While the Chinese made HJ-73 ATGM was fast, Zaslon was faster, with the Active Protection System tracking the incoming warhead as soon as it left the tube and waiting for a fraction of a second before deploying a countermeasure. Mack reflexively squeezed his eyes shut when he saw the bright flash on his display, but he knew that he didn't want to give that guy another crack of the whip. "Kaiser, rush him! Go forwards, pedal to the metal!" barked Truck as he saw the laser warning alert and deployed a salvo of airburst smoke grenades. "Now!"
Moving with a speed and responsiveness most wouldn't expect out of a 55 ton tank, Bronco lurched as its momentum shifted into the opposite direction before it surged forwards towards the smokescreen. As the autoloader loaded another shell into the gun, Mack turned and said over the intercom, "Ludy, the one on the left that just fired, shoot him as soon as you see him."
He could see the woman give a nod in response, her eye still pressed to her gunner's sight and finger poised over the trigger. Mack, with nothing else to say, could only nod back and turn his attention to the screen that showed the view outside the tank, which was the wall of white that was only getting closer, causing the TC to grit his teeth a little bit more.
Williamson still couldn't see a damn thing through the cloud, but his gunner didn't have that problem. "On the way!" announced Smirnova in her distinct accent, firing the cannon, the blast from the muzzle dispersing the smoke cloud enough to allow Truck to see the red flash of the round impact before swinging his scope right to see the last of the Loyalist IFVs autocannon training towards them.
"Driver full stop! Rotate right! Rotate right!" ordered the TC as he brought the gun around, now locked in an uncomfortable game of Ring Around the Rosey with an enemy with ATGMs. "Ludy, shoot this fucker!"
All the TC could do now was watch as the autoloader did its work, picking one of the redheaded MPHIE rounds out of the carousel that lined the turret basket below. In a simple but elegant motion, unaffected by the way the tank or turret turned, the mechanism simultaneously lifted and tilted the round to line up with the breech of the gun. As soon as it was, a plunger pushed the round into place. Unlike NATO tanks, the T-84 used two-piece ammunition, and so first the projectile was loaded, and then the propellant charge. Only once both were shoved inside did the breech slam shut while the mechanism moved down and out of the way, the carousel rotating to queue up the next round.
There was a muted 'thud' when Ludy fired as the propellant ignited and sent the projectile downrange, but that was immediately overshadowed by the loud metallic 'ping!' as the gun recoiled back and slammed against its stops before resetting in its cradle. Looking back to his display, Mack was met with the sight of another burning, blasted apart Loyalist IFV. "Good kill Ludy," he complimented, allowing himself to take a breath and scan again, looking for any signs of threats when the passive Shtora-1 system lit up again, something was still out there and was targeting them.
Swinging his thermal imager around, Mack saw the plumes of ATGMs firing from another IFV hidden behind a building at the edge of town, over 600 meters away. He could see the missiles tracking towards his vehicle, seemingly right for him as they got larger in the thermal viewer.
Before he could react however, the entire tank seemed to shake before something appeared at the top edge of the display, a hand held out overhead. Then the view just turned into pure white from all the heat, and Truck quickly switched back to a standard camera, seeing the strange blue light emitted from the massive robot hand as it snatched up the incoming weapons like it was Neo from the Matrix. And then, as Mack had seen from a distance, but never this close, the Titan launched the missiles back at the IFV, and a bright fireball erupted from where the TC had seen the Loyalist vehicle.
"Bronco, right?" began a laid back drawl over the radio, one that Williamson recognized as the Titan looked around at the Loyalist vehicles the lone T-84 had knocked out. "Damn good shooting, but y'all missed one."
"Ma'am, multiple units are reporting that Loyalist forces have demolished the bridge across the river and are breaking contact," reported one of Silver Sablinovas communications officers. It had been less than two hours since the 7th Armored Assault Battalion had engaged, and in that time the tide had well and truly turned. After the first engagement and then a hasty attempt by the Loyalists to counterattack, the entire enemy division had fallen back across the land they had gained the day before. Only they hadn't stopped there, once Sable had committed her reserve tank force, the retreat turned to a full-scale withdrawal. The Loyalists had gone northeast, circumventing the wood to avoid slowing, and then turned straight east and crossed a river, their Titans were the first over and had provided covering fire for the rest. Sable's tanks had been stalled just long enough to let what remained of the Loyalist force cross. "What are your orders?"
Sable gave the only one she could. "Have everyone pull back and stand down. We do not have the bridging equipment or ammunition to permit a pursuit." Even if that was true, that did not mean that she would allow the enemy to retire so easily. "Inform all inbound CAS aircraft that they are to strike the enemy at their own discretion. I do not want them to double back, nor will I allow them to escape unscathed."
And with those words, the battle was effectively at an end. Two days of fighting, total Sable losses were the heaviest of any single engagement in the entire war. 107 dead, 221 wounded, 7 T-84 Main Battle Tanks, 1 BMPT Terminator, 9 BTRs, and one Ka-52 Alligator attack helicopter had been the total losses. However, Sable would not deny that this had been a victory, the Loyalist division had been turned back, and initial estimates of their losses were over 1000 combined casualties and more than 85 vehicles knocked out. Between the 1st Guards Brigade and 7th Armored Assault Battalion, they had rendered what her G-2 told her was the Loyalists 3rd Armored Division combat ineffective.
Now, in the command post still behind the makeshift defensive line from the night before, Sable couldn't help but allow herself a small smile of satisfaction at the outcome. Combined with the successful holing of the frontline, the Battle of Prokhorvka had been the kind of decisive victory needed to break the stalemate and swing the war decisively into her favor. There was just one sticking point, however.
"Damn shame to let those Titans get away," muttered the Marauder. The 7th had long since been retired from the battle, most of their tanks were down to less than half their ammunition, but they had performed splendidly.
And yet again the Symkarian was reassessing the Pilot, he had performed well in his impromptu leadership role. It was not why she had brought him here, but the large number of enemy Titans was a problem that might require a more proactive solution. Turning towards the Major, Sable said, "How would you like to go after them?"
Cooper's Logbook- Vehicle: Kamov Ka-52 Alligator Reconnaissance Attack Helicopter
The Russians have never been shy regarding innovation, and while the 1950s stereotypes about Soviet Union may give some the wrong impression regarding their technical prowess, seeing some of the hardware Sable has proved to me that those stereotypes are no longer true.
One example is a helicopter that is totally unique, at least in regard to appearance, from all others, what NATO calls the 'Hokum-B' is a descendant of a design that first flew in 1982, the Ka-50 'Black Shark.' The biggest difference is the crew, the Ka-52 featuring a two-man crew sitting side by side as opposed to the lone pilot in a Black Shark. This change necessitated a new nose with a rounder profile and thus the new name, 'Alligator.' Even more unusual than the seating arrangement is the rotor arrangement. There is no tail rotor on the Ka-52, instead there are two contra-rotating primary rotors on the same shaft.
The result? These things are seriously quick and surprisingly agile given their size, and their pilots have proven that they can get their Alligators out of trouble just as fast as they get into it. While they have the fun job, the second crewmember is usually working the sensor suite, spotting and tracking targets while also relaying that information back to other assets. They can do this around the clock, and in almost any weather. It's a capability that no other Attack Helicopter in the world has, and one that Sablinova has been keen to leverage.
But it wouldn't be Russian if they didn't hang a ridiculous amount of firepower on it (A tendency I wholeheartedly agree with) and the Alligator is no exception. In addition to the 30mm cannon, there are six hardpoints that can mount a mix of rockets, air-to-ground and air-to-air missiles, and even 550-pound bombs if something needs some serious killing. The usual loadout is 460 rounds for the gun, 80 unguided 80mm rockets, 12 laser guided anti-tank missiles, and four IGLA heat seeking air-to-air missiles, just so the crew can reduce anything they might come across into a smoking wreck in short order.
I haven't heard anything but good things about them, from the crews who fly them to the ground pounders they support. Even though I suspect the Loyalist SOBs who are often staring into the Alligator's maw might have a different opinion.
Closing Notes: Some good proper tank battle here, trying to have different scenarios than I've already done in previous chapters. The first one with BT fighting modern tanks was a lot of fun to write in particular. We also get a more general introduction to the 7th, and they will be featured more in future chapters as we get further into this Symkarian Civil War arc.
Next up will be a bit of a detour just so I can try different things before going back to the general feel of these last few chapters. Mainly because it will focus on a character who hasn't really ever had the spotlight in this story before. I will admit I came up with this idea because something pissed me off and I thought "I can do better than that" and in two weeks y'all will get to see if I succeed.
Because the hunt for the origin of the Loyalist Titans will fall onto the shoulders of a team of commando Saboteurs.
Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.