I really got to find an easier way of opening these floorboards.
Will's fingernails dug deep between the cracks. The urgency of the situation, as well as a wounded arm, made it difficult for him to focus. He lost his grip a couple of times before he finally managed to lift the board out to reveal a dark square of space. His hands shot down and abruptly felt something long and metallic.
Despite being exactly what he was looking for, his sigh of relief was withheld. He still had work to do.
Coming out from between the wooden boards was a menacing-looking Kraber sniper rifle, as well as a surplus of ammo. The cost of the ammo alone was far more than all the money he had spent to even get his energy plant up and running. Good thing he managed to get most of the ammo for free a long while back.
A long while back.
Perhaps he wouldn't be in this situation if he kept doing what he was doing instead of deciding to move here. The thought caused him to growl. His chance of survival was no different then, either. Of course, the chance of being surrounded by unknown enemies—all ready to kill him over something he had nothing to do with in the first place—was next to nothing, and yet it happened anyway. It caused him to rage as he clutched the sniper. He never expected that he would actually have to use it to defend himself. No one would when they live in a paradise that's almost in the middle of nowhere.
He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
Last stand.
Will groaned with bitter acceptance and prepared for the fight. The sniper was very heavy, especially when he could only hold it with one arm. Still, he managed to keep it high enough for him to lean it against one of the empty window frames of his house. Cautiously, he looked out.
The fog was dense. Only the tips of the treetops that surrounded the clearing were barely visible. He dared to only breathe with swift and quiet motions of his chest and his palms sweated in anticipation. He turned on his helmet, studying the radar in the HUD intensively.
He cursed furiously in his head. He resented everything, every choice he ever made that lead him here, to his grave. He didn't even have his uniform or jump-kit. If he were to die, he would've liked to have those things on him. A sense of dignity in his end.
Este día se empeora a cada momento.
"Arcs out!"
The voice was cut clear from the fog towards his right. He pulled the sniper to the base of his shoulder and aimed in that direction, only to see a volley of circular objects fall from the sky.
His gut movement threw him back from the window before he could even think of anything. Shocks of blue electricity danced outside as the grenades exploded in a random sequence, mirroring the agony that gripped his arm.
He suppressed the signals in his brain, effectively numbing the pain. He attempted to rise, but the Doppler effect of fast-moving projectiles followed by the loud impact and splitting of wood that showered the floor—as well as parts of his body—forced him back down.
"Oh, they did not just—!"
The fury at the desecration of his hard work boiled in his blood. It boiled so much that as the initial burst of fire faded out, he snapped back up to the windowsill. The fog was burnt away, taken away by smoke trails of multiple rifles, revealing a small platoon of grunts just outside among the trees. He hissed, aimed the rifle to a random target...and missed.
"Scatter! We got a sniper!" A voice came from under the echo that rang throughout the sky.
Dammit!
His arm throbbed.
He yanked the bolt handle close to him, loading in another round into the rifle. He looked for the same target that was now ducking back underneath the mounds of soil. A finger-jerk reaction sent the echoing projectile through the side of their shoulder and into their torso.
The horrifying scream sounded and was soon overcome with the gurgling of blood.
"Man down! Man down!"
"Light it up!"
Will received the bolt handle once more, launching another round off into the crowd. Dirt shot up high into the air. Again, he missed terribly.
His output of damage was hilariously small compared to his input, as again, bursts of fire ripped through his house and laid waste to all his hard work. He ignored both that and his arm's cry for relief as he again shot the sniper rifle, this time hitting someone square in the chest.
He dropped down under the window, his back against it.
Got to reload.
He braced against the barrage on his home. Holes appeared in the wall on either direction of his head, putting him in near shock at each one. The next magazine was lifted to his sniper, slowly. Parts of the house could already be heard collapsing in on itself, and with it, his hope. It was only a matter of time before he ended up crushed underneath the rubble, and that was if he wasn't shot dead first.
The corners of his eyes were already becoming soaked. Not from tears, but from sweaty indignation. He racked the rifle once more and fired enraged out into the woods, his arm screamed in agony as he pulled on the bolt handle, again and again, treating the sniper as if it was a bolt action machine gun instead.
Still, he missed every shot.
Alright, fine! I was never good with snipers anyway!
"Focus on that window!"
He grabbed the next magazine and loaded it, all the while ducking and crawling away as the bullets streamed through like rays of sunshine.
The window itself was shredded off the wall, exposing the bare bottoms of Will's shoes to the outside. He could only do what was left as he turned on his back, returning fire from between his feet as he continued to crawl away using his shoulder blades.
Surprisingly, this time he hit three guys in a row. Or did he? He had lost track of how many mags he shoved into the Kraber, each time he did it sent the same words rushing even faster in his head.
I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I really, really, really can't do this. I can't handle this.
It was now that he was beginning to feel the sting behind his eyes. Worthless, all of it. Everything he tried to build...to live...reduced to nothing. So this was his reward for trying not to bother anyone? To live neutrally and completely...alone? He knew this would happen, but the approaching end had seemed to inject some emotion that he had barred himself from feeling for quite some time.
A sob threatened to wrack his throat. He got off his shoulder blades but continued to sit low. There were just too many of them.
His head was thrown to the side as a force pushed past his helmet, causing a short, but sickeningly clear grazing sound. His ear stung like hell. It shocked Will.
But it felt like the final answer to how this will end. There was no way he could fight them all. If only he had his equipment. A better chance. It was unfair!
His eyes clenched shut. His eyelids were dams.
¡Lo siento, Ma—!
CRASH.
His thoughts and tears were cut short by the loud noise. But this was it. He had met his end. A bullet had crashed through some part of the wall and got sent into his skull. Any second now, his eyes would open and find what the afterlife had offered. And so far...it was only black.
Well, that's certainly, fearfully, somethingly disappointing.
A deep breath rose in his spirit. Then, unrealizing and involuntarily, his eyelids flickered, a swirl of colors and smoke appearing to him. Instead of an all-consuming void, there was a big metal hand sitting two feet in front of him, a hole in the roof frame of his house causing dust and leftover fog to pour into the room.
"Oh," he said, realizing he hadn't perished.
Mick.
The hand suddenly lifted and reached around like a living beast of its own, much more energetic than anticipated. Will was apprehensive until it found and grabbed him by the legs. Painfully, the hand yanked him outside of the house, leaving the Kraber behind. Ungraciously he was hung upside down, his shirt falling upwards to reveal his midsection.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing MI—!"
He was cut short as he came face to face with the many optics of a black-colored Scorch lined with gold instead of the black and hot magenta-colored Monarch.
Aw, mierda.
"Looks like we got ourselves a squirming little camping bitch!" The voice of Pyrite rang out of the speakers, singing and snickering. The Titan's arm raised Will higher, and already he could feel the pressure on his legs move the blood even faster to his brain.
"Guess who?"
"It's me!"
The new voice was followed by metal on metal crashing into each other, and William felt himself get passed off into another pair of large hands in a flurry of excitement and bullets. Somewhere along the ride, the sky was placed back where it was supposed to be above his head, but the ground below him kept moving, making him nauseous and forcing him down onto his hands and knees, gripping to keep himself oriented and to not puke in his own helmet. The heat of the ground made him realize he was holding onto a mass of moving metal. Black and hot magenta.
"All of you, stop shooting!" Pyrite roared.
Oh, thank God. Will thought with an escaping breath. Both from the rescue and the ceasefire.
The Scorch was a ways off now, as MIC had dashed from the house when it retrieved Will. But they were still close enough for a mid-range fight.
"Oh, lookie here!" The pyromaniac laughed strangely after a pause. "We got ourselves a Vanguard! Someone's important to the Militia, I see! This day keeps getting interesting by the moment!"
"Uh, Monarch, actually," MIC raised a finger.
"Not the time!" Will hissed. "Just shoot that asshole!"
"With what?" MIC whispered back.
The question astounded him as he looked at the emptiness that was in the Titan's hands. "You didn't bring a fucking weapon?!"
"I did not know where I could obtain one."
"If you're both done yammering over there, can we get back to finishing this?" Pyrite interrupted, annoyed. "Look, just tell us where the file is and I might let you live," he continued, brandishing his thermite launcher thoughtfully.
"I tried to tell you, you damned prick!" Will called back, holding onto his arm and grunting. MIC noticed. "I don't know what file you goddamn want!"
The Scorch shrugged, and shoved the barrel of its thermite launcher into the base of the house, and fired.
Will watched with utter hatred as the center of his home lit aflame and rose high into the air. The rest of the building frame cracked apart and dispersed across the clearing, setting grass ablaze. Smoke burned away whatever fog was left in the air. There was no hope in salvaging his home now, it was discovered, and reduced to ashes. He would have to start over completely. Part of him wanted to die right then and there, and another wanted the bald mercenary's head on a spike.
"Fine," Pyrite answered. "Death it is."
"Beachside, you are wounded."
He ignored the Titan's words and gritted his teeth, looking back between the Scorch and the riflemen on the ground. "Just get the hell out of here!" He seethed.
The large robot hesitated, seeming to assess the situation. His foot nudged backward, but never took a full step. It's optic swiveled upwards to him.
"Or we could fight."
"¿Perdón?" Will exclaimed, flabbergasted. Yes, he too would've liked to fight. Hell, he wanted nothing more than to crush Pyrite's Titan into a metal ball with the bastard crunched inside, but surely MIC knew the unlikeliness of holding their own against a Scorch with no weapons, right? It had to be some badly timed joke.
MIC lifted its fists, much to Will's dismay. "No, do not fight, do not fight!" He shouted, pulling on its steel plates as if it was going to budge it in the other direction.
At the same time, the black and gold opponent on the other side of the field loaded a canister into its launcher. "Goodbye, pilot."
"Stupid machine, run!"
MIC's stance stayed infuriatingly grounded. Will groaned a curse at its stubbornness and took cover by dropping from the top and holding onto the back of its chassis. If MIC could hold their attention long enough, perhaps he could escape.
BWOM.
Fuck.
Will dipped even lower behind the Titan, holding onto its waist joints. He braced for impact as the eerie scream of a thermite container fell from the sky and crashed against MIC's hull.
Or not.
There was no sound of a crash, more like a loud thud. But he did see a blaze of fire surrounding him and an unbearable heat licked across his wounded arm, causing him to curse loudly. He shoved the arm into his abdomen and used his right hand to maneuver around to get a better understanding of exactly what just happened.
"Warning. Temperature rising. Armor integrity decreasing. Arm joints burning."
When he got around the waist joint, Will could hardly believe what he was witnessing. The Titan had actually caught the blazing thermite container. Sparks flew out in every which direction and burned any inch it could get on the Monarch.
"Well don't just hold it like that, dumbass!" Will shouted. "Chuck the fucking thing!"
"Understood."
Will half-regretted giving those instructions as MIC twisted itself into a throwing stance, flinging his body around its waist. Next thing he knew, the Titan did a small bunny hop and fastballed the thermite back to its sender, who was also just standing there dumbfounded at what it just witnessed.
The ironic sight of a thermite container crashing over the Scorch that launched it lifted Will's spirits. The gold lining of it was now scoured with scorch marks and smoke rose from the damage it caused. But it didn't last long as the big heavy Titan dashed closer to put it out, like a beast revealing itself from the dark.
"Ergh! You think you're funny, huh?!" Pyrite's voice came, enraged. His Titan already was reloading another container.
Now we really pissed him off...that makes two of us.
"MIC, I'm telling you for the last time, you got to fucking run!"
"Agreed. Hold on."
The Titan's immediate response once again bewildered Will, but not as much as when its mass didn't shift backward, but instead forward against the Scorch. MIC's hands outstretched and grabbed hold of the thermite launcher and thrusted it into the ground, knocking the opposing Titan off-balance and continuing to run past. It was then when the sound of small arms fire had continued.
"¿Qué chingados haces?" Will asked as he painfully twisted around the front of the waist, still using one arm. Bullets followed and peppered their rear.
MIC skidded past the burning wreckage of the house, stopping by where the bonfire from the night before should've been. Calculating, it grabbed a fistful of burning debris and pulled it away. Will heaved a cautious sigh of relief as the Titan had remembered his gear, the uniform and jump-kit, when he laid eyes upon them from underneath. He was confused but grateful nonetheless as the Titan carefully picked them up and continued running past the hut and onto the beach, away from the hailstorm of fire that was now hitting them less and less.
Will could hear the fading scream of the Scorch cursing for them to go back and fight, along with other colorful insults.
"You will need these, Beachside, to increase our odds of survival."
"Er...gracias," he responded, looking back to the uniform and jump-kit that was clutched in the Titan's hands.
"De nada."
Will let MIC hold onto the gear, keeping an eye behind them for an angry Scorch that was sure to be following them. MIC's feet thundered in the shallow, gray water. The air more refreshing compared to the burning back at Will's once-home. But they couldn't afford a break. They were prey now, hunted by Pyrite and his team.
Speaking of which, where are the rest of those assholes?
His question was answered before it was even finished as an explosion threw MIC down hard onto its knees, violently throwing both Will and waves of the ocean around.
"Severe damage to the right shoulder joint. Source, plasma railgun."
"Northstar?!" Will grunted, still hanging on barely by the tips of his fingers. Out from underneath the light fog on the beach, he could see an orange glow in front of them, a large orb-like frame of a Titan shadowed behind it.
"Get back into the forest!"
MIC was already ahead of him and headed back into the cover of the trees, leaving the beach behind. A blaze of light just missed them.
"Keep moving, MIC! We need to reach the city port and get the hell off this planet!"
"We should visit a medical center first. Your central nervous system is receiving signal reports of burn damage and a bullet wound in your left arm."
¿Qué?
"No medical center and...Did you just hack into my head?!"
"Less of a hack and more of a look inside. It is not difficult to notice that you are injured."
Will scoffed. His good arm was getting sore as he held on. He wanted to ask the Titan if he could get into the cockpit to rest, but he didn't want to give it any funny ideas about acting as a pilot.
"Aren't you going to ask me why I came back?" MIC asked, almost as if reading his mind.
The question took him by surprise, but it also caused him to groan in annoyance. Apparently the Titan had feelings, now, or something. But sure, he wondered why, but a conversation wasn't exactly the most important thing to have when getting hunted down by two Titans so far. He was worried about the other two that seemed to be part of the main crew. The Polynesian lady and the man they called Deckers.
"Now isn't the time MIC, let's worry about getting somewhere safe first. Keep running. Keep zig-zagging in this direction. The port is our safe zone."
"Understood."
Of course, Will wasn't exactly sure of the lengths these damned mercenaries would go to kill him. It was a horrendous thought that they would tear up an innocent town over some file, but his life was on the line. The sooner they got there, the sooner they could blend in and get off-planet. Will struggled to think up of how they would simply do that as the talking between him and the Titan died down.
MIC's thundering footsteps kept colliding with the forest floor repeatedly, like drums. A symbolic metronome of time racing towards them. The darkness overhead increased as the treetop canopy got thicker. Will struggled to think, but the crawling of his skin kept him stressing out, and the constant up and down motions were making him sick. And to think how far away the port was still...
Blegh.
He needed another nap.
FWOOM.
Something zoomed overhead. Which definitely wasn't a good sign.
They're already headed to the port, dammit!
But that wasn't all. A similar sound was sent downwards, hitting the ground and causing trees nearby somewhere to crack like lightning. That was an even worse sign.
"Beachside, I believe it would be best if you entered my cockpit."
"MIC I told you—"
"Not to pilot, simply for safe-keeping."
"...What, am I a souvenir, now?"
"Just get in the cockpit," the Titan bit, an edge in its voice. Again, surprising the human holding onto its waist joints.
Still running, MIC's doors opened and it put the jump-kit and uniform inside. After, its passenger managed to maneuver themself inside, although with much difficulty. Will noted that when he entered, the seat was spotlessly clean and shiningly new. There was no sign of use anywhere, which didn't seem right.
Is this Titan really that brand new?
If it was, he had to admit that MIC was surprisingly good at surviving a Scorch, even despite the stupid as hell stunts it pulled. If it weren't for himself though, MIC would most likely be scrap metal by now. Hopefully, it would actually learn to listen to him before any round two's.
Oh yeah, he was definitely coming back to reclaim his home, and if he had to use MIC to kill a few hunters to get it back, then so be it. But first, he needed more resources than just the Titan. That and he also had a bad arm that needed to be nursed back to health.
"I think I'm starting to understand my protocol," MIC said suddenly.
"The, 'To Warn' one? Wha—"
And for the nth time that day, Will was interrupted yet again. But it wasn't by a Scorch or Northstar, but it was by a sword. A Ronin's sword. It came flying from the trees and smacking MIC just below his optic, knocking on the cockpit door and throwing it back hard, but not hard enough to knock MIC off its feet.
"Where you going, sweetheart?" The voice in the red and yellow Ronin sang. "Miss Liss needs something out of you." She kept the blade on MIC's chassis as she circled around him, grinding the paint.
It didn't take a genius to know that this lady was the one from back at the hut, with the crude smile. Will could imagine it sickeningly plastered on her face now as she danced around them, making his blood boil.
"Deckers, come help me, please."
"Jesus, woman. I'm not some dog," another voice came from the shadows of the trees. A few clunking steps later, and a Tone had appeared.
Will grimaced. They were in deep shit now.
Perhaps If he was in control...
No.
"Quit whining like one then," Liss responded, then shifted back to MIC.
"Bosses will be here any second. Just give us the file, and we can make it quick and painless."
"No thanks," MIC responded, to which its legs were forced out from underneath it in a surprise sweep with the sword. Will almost puked from the sudden shift in gravity.
"Wrong answer!" The woman spat. She held the Ronin's sword edge first against MIC, resting on top of its optic.
"You better listen to 'er there, man," Deckers added.
"MIC! Let me speak!"
The Titan said nothing, but somehow he could feel fear coming from it...odd. A click had sounded. Eerie quiet overcame them as he tried to think of something to say.
"I'm telling you, pilot. I'm willing to rip it off both you and your Titan's corpse! So start talking!" She rose the sword up and down. "On the count to five...One!"
Will scrambled to find the words. "Wait!"
"...Two!"
"I don't know!"
"...Three!"
Will sputtered.
You know what...fuck it.
"MIC! Link!"
"...You better start spitting it out!"
Green vertical lines appeared in Will's vision, jogging his memories from the first time he did this. However, this time seems more...excited.
"Establishing Neural Link," MIC's voice sounded.
"...Four!"
Everything went black, and he was filled with sharp pain. A spasm coursed through his body and his head shook. It felt like an ice pick was getting rammed straight into the base of his skull. But there was also a strange sense of bliss. The computing components in his mind. It made the pain bearable, enough for him to look out into the vast void. It was almost like earlier when he thought he had died. But it was more...tranquil inducing. He didn't know how long he had been in here, but he didn't want to leave.
Then he woke up.
"Neural Link Established. Beachside, you are now—"
Will shot MIC's right arm out as an electrified blade came crashing down. The blade flew off into the trees, sparking, and the Ronin crashed on top of them in a surprised scream. Will found his new strength, and he adjusted himself to throw the other Titan off of him.
He had forgotten how good it felt to be back in the pilot's seat. His mind computer, combined with the Titan, had expanded his situational awareness greatly. He had already noticed the Tone's cannon behind him was being raised, and with a swift kick, the Tone was thrown off balance and landed on its rear.
"Hey!"
Will threw MIC's chassis back into gear, getting back onto its feet and making headway to get the hell out. But before he started running, there was a soft glow of a burning tree where the electrified sword had landed. It gave him an idea.
He grabbed the burning tree, snapping it like a toothpick and waving it around the forest, setting more trees on fire. At the same time, Will danced a bit in front of the Ronin, whistling, trying to throw her off her game. The Ronin responded with a growl as it got to its feet, going for its Leadwall shotgun.
"I'll kill you! Deckers! Start shooting!" Liss shouted.
Her command rang clear and the Tone's shoulders began to expand, revealing rockets. A little bit more excessive than what Will was looking for, but it could work the same way.
He jumped back into the darkness of the trees and dropped his oversized match. Explosions shook the ground before him, causing fireballs to engulf the surrounding forest. That's when Will made the break for it. And he kept running. Him and his massive, metal legs.
Despite the danger, he felt a sense of guilty pleasure filling him. Something he hated yet felt such enjoyment out of. Like suffering a drug addiction relapse. It sparked bad memories.
He was a pilot again.
And he wasn't quite sure how to feel about it.