I do not own Sym-Bionic Titan or any of the characters. First SBT fiction. Let's see, shall we? Gotta say, I like the very loose physics of the show's weapons, especially with the Manus/Corus armor and the Titan.

Invasion

Jet smiled, leaning back on his arms and tilting his head back to look up at the sky. It was a beautiful day. Few clouds in the sky, not to hot or chilly, bright sunlight, and he was getting to spend it with Isabella. He brushed his messy brown hair to the side and glanced at her. She had that beautiful smile he so adored on her soft lips and her eyes closed with her own head tilted back, as he had a moment earlier. Golden hair fell to her waist, seeming to shine in the sunlight. Her eyes likewise sparkled breathtakingly in the light, when open, and drew in anyone that met her gaze, allowing her dazzlingly beautiful face to steal their hearts without them being any the wiser. Her youthful face gave way to a slender neck, which then transformed into a very filled out body. Her full chest and slim hourglass figure haunted many men's dreams, and he was no different, despite his best efforts. She stood half a head shorter than he was, and in her elegant, yet simple, white dress, which was cut to expose the tops of her shoulders and her upper chest, she looked like an angel. Jet realized he was staring and tore his emerald eyes away less than a second before she looked over at him, seeing his eyes, once again, closed and his head tilted back.

"It's so beautiful out," she smiled.

"Yes, it is," Jet agreed. "Perfect weather for a day off."

"Which you willingly spend with your commander," she smirked. "Is it really that surprising the others all think you're an ass kisser?"

Jet grinned. It always seemed comical when she swore, because it was so contrary to her appearance that it felt bizarre. Even when she was angry and yelling at someone, the moment she swore, it became funny. And she was terrifying when she wanted to be.

"Despite being the youngest commander in Galaluna history, you're still a human before you're a commander," Jet said. "And besides my commander, you're also my best friend, and my weapons master. You literally trained me in everything I know. So of course I willingly spend time with you."

Isabella nodded. "And then you turn around and wonder why they tell you to clean the shit off your nose."

Jet's grin grew and she shoved him lightly.

"Stop grinning!" she said in mock offense. "I'm serious! They all think you're sucking up for brownie points."

"And yet, I still get all the shit jobs," Jet said, looking over at her as a cloud rolled across the sun. "Why do you always give me latrine duty?"

"If they thought your sucking up was working they'd beat you black and blue," Isabella said.

Jet snorted. "After being trained by the greatest fighter on the planet, who mastered martial arts, archery, and firearms by the age of thirteen, I doubt it."

She rolled her eyes. "Just because I could beat all eleven of them in a fight doesn't mean you could. And don't start with your weapons. I didn't give those to you so that I could hear about them any time your skills in a fight comes up."

He raised his hands innocently. "I wasn't going to say anything about them. And you're right. I'm a perfectly normal eighteen year old who hasn't been the deadliest fighter on the planet for the last five years. but I'd still whoop their asses."

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Sure you-"

An explosion cut off the rest of her sentence and turned everything a fiery orange. Both of their heads snapped around toward the city, their jaws falling open. They both looked up as massive warships began to descend from the clouds, and then fighters. They both recognized both the jagged-looking warships and the eight-legged fighters.

"Mutraddi!" Jet snarled, shoving himself up as a black watch on his left wrist shone.

It transformed into an energy submachine gun, one with a shoulder stock reaching backward about half the length of his arm before folding upward into the shoulder stop, a carrying handle on top of the main section of the gun, a smooth, rounded section on the underside of the gun for the shooter's forward hand, a short barrel, and a glowing yellow charge indicator light on the sides. It formed so that his left hand was already in place, so he grabbed the pistol grip and shouldered the weapon instantly.

"Let's go!" Isabella said, having jumped up and formed the black bracelet on her left wrist into a matching weapon.

Once both had formed their guns, they sprinted for the city. Already the constant bombardment had done unbelievable amounts of damage to the city, and Mutraddi Beast Soldiers, hulking creatures double the height of the average Galalunian adult, with stone-colored skin and almost spike-like growths over their backs, were running through the street toward the Royal Family's palace, shooting almost anything that moved with their red laser-rifles, which were about as long as Jet's arms and as thick as his torso.

They sprinted into the city just in time for a pair of Mutraddi to step out of a building to their right. Jet spun, firing quickly and dropping both. Another Mutraddi stepped into view ahead of them from a crashed Mutraddi fighter, and Isabella shot it in the head, instantly dropping it. They continued to run, taking side roads to avoid larger groups of Mutraddi. Jet wanted to kill all of the invading soldiers, of course, but they'd be after the Royal Family first, and if they died, the fight would be pointless. The sheer number of Mutraddi would overwhelm the capital's soldiers. Jet looked toward the palace as they sped across the main road and frowned.

"Why aren't they using their Manus?" Jet asked.

"I don't know," Isabella said. "We need to get to the palace. We can worry about why there aren't any Manus being used later."

Jet nodded just as they stepped into the street and skidded to a stop, finding a procession of more than twenty Mutraddi mid-sprint toward the palace. The Mutraddi spun, opening fire at the same time as Isabella's right bracelet, identical to its twin from her left wrist, burst into a cloud of tiny, black hexagons, which then grew and formed together into a curved barrier between the pair of them and the Mutraddi, the barrier shaped like a section of a dome. As soon as the barrier began to block the Mutraddi's shots, Jet stepped up beside Isabella, switching his left hand to his gun's carrying handle just as it began to bulge, the handle turning sideways as the metal below it grew into a huge box, six spinning barrels extending from the front, connected by a ring bracket near the end and with a handle extending out of the back, then turning up at a ninety degree angle with a trigger in the top. The change happened in about one second after he grabbed the handle, so he waited a moment for the Mutraddi to stop firing. The moment they did, the barrier's hexagons scattered and shrunk, freeing his line of fire. He squeezed the trigger instantly and his minigun buzzed to life, emitting a bone-vibrating hum as it mowed down the Mutraddi. Isabella started from the other side with he submachine gun, and within seconds they'd slaughtered them all, though one of the Mutraddi in the middle managed to take a few shots, one of which grazed Jet's side.

"Fuck, that hurt," Jet grit his teeth, collapsing the gun back to its submachine gun form.

"Sorry," Isabella winced. "I should have focused on defense, too."

"It's fine," Jet said, taking a steadying breath. "Let's go."

Isabella nodded and they continued to run. Several more groups of Mutraddi stumbled across them, but they were lucky enough to see the Mutraddi first and killed them before the Mutraddi could fire. They closed the distance to the palace quickly. The several miles of distance quickly fell away until they were finally a half-mile from the army of Mutraddi that had surrounded the palace. However, as they entered the last small open space of the back alley they were in, after which they'd be able to attack the Mutraddi and draw their attention, they stopped as they found four lightly injured soldiers scattered around, resting, all armed with only standard-issue sabers. All around them were Mutraddi that had been killed by swords, at least twenty of them.

"Are you four alright?" Isabella asked, Jet surveying the corpses, then looking to the soldiers.

"Yeah," one of them said, sounding exhausted and covered in grazing shots, but none anything more than superficial.

"We just need a minute," another said, bearing the same kind of wounds.

Jet's eyes moved to the other two's, seeing the story was the same. All four had managed to avoid anything even as bad as Jet had. He and Isabella walked to the alleyway leading toward the Mutraddi, both glancing at the other out of the corner of their eyes. Even together, they couldn't have beaten twenty Mutraddi with nothing but swords and gotten away as close to unscathed as these four.

"We're glad you're here," one of the four said as all four stood. "We were about to grab some Mutraddi rifles and draw that swarm's attention."

"We had a similar plan," Isabella said, holding her right hand in front of herself, her left holding her rifle at her side.

Six hexagons left her bracelet and gathered into her hand, warping and deforming as it formed a six-sided hilt with no guard in her hand, then paused, waiting to form the blade. Then, the telltale sound of someone sprinting echoed behind them, and they spun as one. In the split-second it took them to turn, Isabella's hexagons had formed the long, thin blade of her sword, flat on the edges and about three inches wide, and the black ring on Jet's right ring finger had formed itself into a sword of his own. Its silvery blade was dual-edged, but the tip was curved backward like a single-edged blade would be. It's black hilt had a rounded dome pommel and a guard that was flat toward his hands, oval looking at it from either the pommel or point end of the sword, and reached upward three inches in three points, one just past either edge of the blade and one point in the center of the blade, the space between the points sweeping back toward his hand an inch and a half in perfect semi-circles. The sword itself was about two and a half feet in length.

There was a clash of metal as their swords blocked two of the other soldiers' blades before they shoved them away. Jet peppered the soldier who attacked him with the gun now held in his left hand while Isabella twirled her sword as she shoved her opponent's away, the twirl ending in a thrust into that traitor's heart.

"Shit!" one of the surviving pair swore, backing away. "Just our fucking luck to run into Commander Isabella!"

"Suck it up!" the other said, charging. "Let's get them!"

Jet and Isabella both rolled their eyes and raised their guns, shooting the other two.

"Idiots," Jet huffed, then spun, leaping backward into the open space again just as a member of his own unit slashed downward, knocking his gun from his hand, then slashed at Isabella, only for her gun and her remaining bracelet to both burst into hexagons, blocking the blade.

She stabbed at him as the barrier broke apart, but he jumped out of the way, instead slashing at Jet. Jet deflected it and slashed in return, but their blades rang as they met again and again.

"Why are you working with the Mutraddi!?" Isabella demanded, moving to strike for a non-fatal point, only for a pair of other members from their unit to strike from above, forcing her to block it with her barrier and leap away, the hexagons moving with her, allowing the pair to land safely.

"Simple," the one fending off Jet said. "We like to be on the side that survives!"

"It's a shame you won't, then!" Jet said, lunging and stabbing.

The soldier knocked his sword away and grinned, beginning to pull his blade back to strike, only for Jet to spin, the back edge of his sword carving through the soldier's chest before Jet kicked him away. He crashed into one of the pair fighting Isabella and she instantly redirected her attention to the remaining soldier, deflecting his blade before slashing him down across the torso in one fluid movement before stabbing the last traitor down through the one Jet had slashed. She sighed, returning her sword to its bracelet form and her barrier back into the rest of the bracelet and her gun before tossing Jet's gun to him as he returned his sword to its ring form.

"What made them think they could beat us?" Jet asked.

"Desperation," Isabella said. "They were fighting for survival. Failure likely also would have meant their deaths, but more painfully."

Jet nodded just as a ship launched from the palace, followed by a blast from the Rift Gate projector at the palace. He stared after it for a while before turning to Isabella.

"He stayed behind," Jet said. "He's the only one who could have operated the Rift Gate."

Isabella nodded. "Which means that Princess Ilana was on the ship, likely with Hobbs for a bodyguard."

Jet nodded. "We need to disappear." He looked to the side where a bonfire was burning hundreds of feet into the air and spanned more than a city block across. "The last thing we need to do is attract the attention of a Mutraddi Mega Beast."

Isabella nodded, also eyeing the flames, which were a living creature that had been obliterating blocks of the city at a time less than an hour ago. They turned, beginning to run away from it and toward the armory and prison. If they were going to find anyone willing to help, it would be prisoners promised freedom after a rebellion.

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