Burning Skies

The screen flickered to life. I took one look at my new contact with the IMC, and disliked him immediately. He was older, and graying. His fuckin' uniform was immaculate, with a number of medals pinned below his lapel. Worthless trinkets, if yah ask me. All in all, it was the look of a man used to getting others to fight his battles for him. A weakling and a coward.

"You must be Kuben Blisk. My name is General Marder. I vill be your primary contact vith the IMC from now on."

I let a sneer crawl across my face. "So wha' you want us ta' do, General?"

Marder ignored my mocking tone. "Three fireteams of some of the IMC's best pilots have disappeared in the vilds of Kornel. Ve vant you to find the teams, and find out vat happened to them."

" Sounds simple enough," I grunted. "We gotta new member on my team, so you're gonna have ta' pay her share too."

"Done," Marder responded. "I vill send you the rendezvous co-ordinates shortly."

The screen went black, and I spat on the floor in disgust. I was on the bridge of the Bloody Hand, the Apex Predators' warship. I pressed a button on the console, and activated the internal communications system.

"Listen up, yah worthless bastards. I don't care whetha ya eatin', sleepin' or fuckin', I want ya on the bridge STAT."

Then I lit a cigar, and waited. Slowly, the rest of the Apex Predators began trickling into the bridge.

Slone arrived first, her dark hair tied back into a bun. She sat without saying a word, and began cleaning her sidearm with an oily rag. Richter was next; the German had evidently been sewing on another patch onto his armor as he still held needle and thread. Richter was strange, even amongst the Predators. His uniform was a mess of patches; each one represented a kill. I found his habit of looting corpses distasteful, but everyone had some kinda weird shit that they were into. Richter sat beside Slone with a grunt, and kept sewing. At least the fucker didn't bring his ear collection with him.

Kane, the shifty-eyed bastard, arrived next. Instead of sitting down, the narcotics dealer began pacing up and down, muttering to himself. Occasionally, his hands would twitch, and then he'd run them through his greasy dark hair. I sighed.

"Kane," I said. I was not angry, just annoyed and soma' that musta bled into my voice, cause he looked up real quick.

"Yes, boss?" Kane replied nervously.

"You gonna be sober in 30, or nah?" I asked.

Kane's face twisted into a lopsided grin. "Damn right, boss. This shit is good, but it don't last long."

I shook my head at that, but said nothing more. Kane was an unbalanced addict, but that's what made him so dangerous. He would do shit without a second thought that would cause many hardened pilots to hesitate. Combine that with the instincts of a killer, and you got yourself a whole mess of crazy and dangerous.

Viper got there second-last. That man had to be one of the most paranoid people I'd come across. Even now, he still wore his helmet. I'd seen his real face a few times, but I still didn't know the man's real name. Either he'd done something really fucked up in the past (which is unlikely, cause I tend to hear about that shit) or he was trynna protect someone. Either way, he was a demon in a titan, and that's all I cared 'bout.

The newbie was the last to join us. I was still uncertain about that one, but this mission would act as an initiation of sorts. If she survived, she was a Predator.

"Alright, listen up ya cunts," I said. "We got a new member of our team here today. Everyone say 'lo to Ash."

The Simulacrum stepped forward, and the rest of the Predators muttered greetings.

"See, I still got my doubts 'bout ya, Ash," I continued. "So consider this ya trial. If ya survive, ya one of us. Got it?"

Ash gave a crisp nod. "Understood and acknowledged, Commander Blisk."

"Fuckin' machines," I muttered. "Christ. Anyway, Marder wants us to check out some shit in the wilds of Kornel, so that's were we're headin'."

The planet Kornel had seen the worst of the Titan Wars. The IMC had quickly and brutally suppressed the local population at the start of the conflict, but that had only served to radicalize the ordinary citizens. What should have been a swift victory for the IMC (the Militia had barely a presence there), turned into one of the bloodiest battlegrounds of the Wars. Deprived of military-grade weapons, the resistance had instead relied on terrorism and sabotage to achieve their aims. The IMC had responded by staging mass executions of anyone suspected of aiding their enemies. Both sides suffered catastrophic losses, and many of the surviving IMC soldiers still bore the scars of the ordeal. Decades later, Kornel had not recovered. The local population was concentrated on the capital, Katarkia, and many of the outlying cities stood abandoned, as the jungle reclaimed the land.

The last contact point by the IMC search teams had been in the city of Tzarkan. Once it had been a bustling metropolis of life. Now it stood empty and silent. Rows and rows of broken skyscrapers reached for the crimson sky, and the remnants of fallen Titans scattered the streets. Even a few decades later, nature had began to reclaim the land. Tzarkan had been a vanity project: the second largest city on Kornel, built on the edge of the wilds by a group of billionaires looking to expand their fortunes. It had been also the site of some of the worst fighting during the Titan Wars. The resistance had actually managed to force the IMC out of Tzarkan; the IMC responded by launching an orbital strike on the city, which wiped out its remaining civilian population.

It was in this bleak and desolate cityscape that me and Slone found ourselves. Kornel's unique atmosphere caused the sky to carry a red tint, and when the sun shone through the clouds, it looked to me like the whole sky was on fire. The 'burning skies' of Kornel were famous for that shit. Probably why all those rich fuckers decided to settle here in the first place.

I had sent the rest of the Predators to scout the surrounding jungle, but I had wanted to see the city for myself. I was in my own crimson Legion-class Titan, Sager, while Slone had picked the recently-manufactured Ion model for this mission.

"Crazy, innit?" I spoke to Slone over the comms. "Crazy to think that this is where the Ghost of Kornel killed all them IMC."

"The Ghost ain't been seen since the IMC bombed the city," Slone reminded me. "I don't know why you admire a dead man."

I shook my head, realized that Slone couldn't see it, and stopped. "A real hunter woulda survived that. Even if he didn't..can you imagine that, Slone?"

I paused as my Titan turned a corner. You can't ever let your guard down if you wanna stay alive on the Frontier. Once I had determined the coast was clear, I continued.

"All the IMC, falling, dying around the Ghost. Hundreds dead, an' he's still killing more. They're screamin', runnin' from him. And then he looks up, and sees an ocean of fire comin' right at him.." I shook my head in admiration. "What an end,"

Slone didn't respond, but that was hardly unusual. My second-in-command was the most lethal pilot on the Predators (barring me, course, but I don't count), but she lacked passion. Slone was cold, and liked cold things, like the clink of coin. Me, on the otha' hand, I was filled with life, with passion. Money was good and all, but it was the rush of battle that I really loved. Slone was incapable of understanding that.

It was as I was contemplating this, that some kinda sixth-battle sense began tingling. Seconds later, my radar began pinging as it picked up multiple Titan contacts.

"Shit," Slone swore. "Commander, you readin' this?"

"Damn right," I replied, my voice laced with the barest hint of anticipation. "Looks like at least seven Vanguard-class Titans."

"Fucking SRS," Slone snarled, but her voice was tense and panicked.

"We got two more on your six, Slone," I continued, as two more pings lit up my scanner. "You take care of 'em. I got the rest."

"You're going to solo seven SRS Commandos?" Slone asked, incredulity lacing her voice. It was the first time I'd ever heard her stunned.

I grinned in response. "I was getting bored. It's time to hunt some real prey."

Slone didn't respond, but I could imagine her shaking her head. It didn't matter what she thought, though. I could feel the adrenaline running through my body, heightening all my senses. This was my true calling.

"You ready to shred some Militia?" I asked my Titan.

"Affirmative," Sager responded. "We will fuck them up."

I grinned again, a vicious smile that was all teeth. "Just wha' I wanted to hear."

I directed Sager behind a building, and waited. I carefully watched the incoming SRS on my radar. They split into four groups and began spreading out. Clearly we had tripped some sort of sensor. Well, at least we knew what happened to the IMC fireteams. I muted my communications, heart beating in anticipation. There could be no distractions. I quickly glanced at the skyscrapers either side of me.

"Sager, think I can bring any of that shit down?"

"Searching for structural flaws…7 found."

I grinned. This was gonna be fun. The SRS clearly did not have an exact fix on my current position, as they passed by me towards Slone.

"Oh no you don't," I muttered, and began spinning up Sager's Predator cannon. After a few seconds, the cannon reached maximum velocity with a shrill whine. I stepped out from the alley, and found myself facing the backs of three jet-black SRS Vanguard-Class Titans. Reaching down, I pressed a large red button. With a concussive blast that rocked the cabin, Sager discharged his power shot. This was why I had chosen the Legion class: even Vanguards could barely match the sheer destructive power of my Titan.

The power shot slammed into the right Titan's shoulder. It burned through the armor instantly, leaving twisted and charred metal. I was already charging another power shot even as the enemy focused on me. The second shot slammed into the middle SRS Titan. The enemy Titan's cockpit cracked under the blast.

The other two Titans opened fire. I activated my gun's energy shield, and absorbed most of the damage. There was a reason I picked this place for my little ambush. I began backing up. Just a little further. The two enemies, sensing victory, began advancing forward eagerly.

It was their last mistake. Earlier, I had spotted structural flaws in the surrounding skyscrapers. I now used that to my advantage. Loading my fourth-to-last power shot shell, I fired at the base of one of the buildings. The effect was immediate and dramatic. The skyscraper toppled to the side and landed on the street. Two of the SRS died instantly, their Titans crushed beneath thousands of tons of steel and concrete. The last SRS was the Titan with the cracked cockpit. The enemy had survived due to the fact he had been slightly behind his little friends. Unfortunately, a thousand tons of steel now separated us.

A plan began forming in my mind. I opened my cockpit, and drew my sidearm.

"Launch me," I yelled at Sager. My Titan grabbed me, and flung me in an arc over the fallen skyscraper. I landed directly on top of the enemy Titan. I reached down and pulled at the cockpit. Normally, I would have no chance, but it had been heavily damaged by the power shot. The cockpit came free on the second try.

The enemy pilot looked up in shock. Before he could move, I shot him four times in the chest. With a pained grunt, the pilot slumped. The SRS Titan went fucking insane. It gave out a mechanical roar. It began trying to strike at me with its arms.

"Fuck," I swore. I climbed into the pilot's seat, pushing out the dead SRS in the process. The Titan began trying to grab at me, but its mechanical fingers only scraped against the edge of the cockpit. Luckily, I had something for this exact scenario. I pulled out two arc charges from my vest. The Titan had given up grabbing me, and now was trying to shake me off. I quickly placed them on the back of the interior, as close to the Titan's core as I could manage.

Next, I jumped out of the cabin, and activated my boosters. I landed several hundred meters from the Titan. Directly behind me was the fallen skyscraper. The black Titan zeroed in on me righ' away, and began charging towards me. Huh. The power shot had probably fucked with its weapon systems. The giant enemy began closing the gap real fast.

"Closer, you fucker," I muttered, as I tracked the Titan. "Closer…"

It was almost upon me. I detonated the charges, and leapt to the side. The Titan tore through the space I had been and kept going. It crashed into the skyscraper, before crumpling into a twisted heap of metal.

I aimed my grapple at the skyscraper, and released. I swung in a long arc over the ruin, and landed a few meters in front of Sager. It extended a hand towards me, and I jumped onto it. Sager placed me back in the cockpit. The rush of battle was already fading, leaving me feeling empty.

"Impressive, Boss," Sager rumbled in a deep baritone. "Three SRS dead, and we have not sustained any damage."

"Yeah," I replied, not quite sure why the thought made me feel so depressed.

Suddenly, Sager spoke again. "Boss, we got multiple SRS Titans converging on our position."

Now that was some good shit to hear. I began to feel excited again. "How many?"

"All of them."

Now this, this was a real battle. I was gonna have to fight for my life here. Which would win, numbers or skill?

The four remaining SRS were rapidly converging on my right. I had maybe thirty seconds until contact, so I had to use 'em wisely.

"Sager, let's go kill these bastards."

"Affirmitative. I will enjoy crushing them into red mist."

"That's the spirit," I grunted. "Gimme the smart core once we come into range."

"Got it."

Normally, if I was outnumbered, I preferred to choose the battlefield and let the enemy come to me. However, staying where I was would be pretty damn stupid. I was many things, but stupid wasn't one of 'em. So, instead I began moving as quick as I could towards the four SRS. Surprise was gonna be key here.

The four SRS Titans were spread out, approaching the maze of alleys and skyscrapers I had found myself in as a cohesive unit. It made sense: the last thing any Titan unit wanted was to be bunched together. I was going to use that against them, however. See, they were expecting to have to hunt me down through the alleys. A smart pilot would take those odds, and lose. A predator would go on the offensive.

So that's what I did.

I came into range even before the SRS entered the city proper. It was now or never.

"Open fire!" I roared, and Sager roared in response, his chaingun already up and firing.

"SMART CORE ACTIVE. GUN SHIELD ONLINE."

See, the real power of the Legion wasn't its damage, or even the power shot. It was the smart core. See, every Titan had a way to deal with multiple enemies. Ronins will use maneuverability to destroy their enemies, the Northstars try and keep their enemies at bay while slowly chipping away at 'em, and so on. And the Legion? All he's gotta do is sit there and break out his Smart Core. 'Cause what the Smart Core allowed Legions to do was fire onto up to four targets at once. The sheer power of that is almost beautiful.

The instant Sager activated his smart core, everything happened at once. The SRS paused for second, confused, even as bullet after bullet slammed into their Titans. Then the moment passed, and the SRS Titans roared to life. They charged forward as a unit, gun's blazing. Sager's gun shield blocked most of the damage, but every now and again I heard bullets pinging off the outside of my Titan.

I could barely hear anything over the sheer noise that the Predator Cannon made, and the walls of the interior around me began to heat up as the core exuded its full power.

I took aim at one of the two center Titans, and fire a power shot. The enemy Pilot was too slow; the SRS Titan was only half out of the way when the massive shell hit. For a second, it looked like nothing had happened, but then the Titan's core ignited and the massive machine fell to the ground, burning. I grinned. That was a stroke of good luck if I ever saw one. The Pilot was likely still alive, but not for long. Trapped in a metal coffin, he'd burn to death or suffocate within minutes.

"Nasty way to go!" I yelled over the noise at Sager. There was no response, but I thought I heard a dark chuckle mixed in with the sound of gunfire.

I focused on my next target: the leftmost vanguard. Instead of aiming for the body, I focused my next power shot at the Titan's legs. A direct hit! One of the Titan's legs was torn clean off. It stumbled and fell to the ground with a crash. Legs useless, it began trying to crawl towards me with its arms. I put a stop to that real quick: I used my last power shot to shoot it directly in the cockpit. No way anything was surviving that.

"SMART CORE OFFLINE."

"Dammit," I swore.

The last two Titan were almost upon me. They were close, too close. It was time to do something a lil' different. See, most people think that Legions are slow, bulky tanks. To be fair, most of the time that's true. But I made a few modifications to mine.

I dashed forward in the Legion, right up in one of the bastards' faces. The other immediately began firing on my exposed side, but I ignored it for now. The pilot in front of me panicked, and I swung one of Sager's fists out. The enemy dodged to the side, trying to protect the cockpit, but that wasn't where I was aiming. Instead, my titan's fist closed around the enemy's rifle, and wrenched it out of its grasp. I crushed it, before tossing it to the side.

The enemy pilot panicked, and began backing away from me. It was a stupid mistake. He should have tried to keep my attention on him by staying close, forcing me to divide my resources between him and his ally. Now I could deal with him quickly. I brought my Legion's cannon to bear, and a few seconds later the enemy Titan crumpled under the force.

I turned to face the other remaining SRS, a found a problem. I couldn't aim my gun at him!

"Sager, what's going on?" I yelled.

"It appears that my right shoulder has sustained significant damage. We will be unable to fire the Predator Cannon until it is fixed."

Jesus fuckin' Christ. An idea was forming in my head, though. I turned Sager so that his right shoulder was facing the Titan. The enemy took the bait, sinking round after round into it, not realizing it was already useless. I dashed forward. The SRS hadn't been expecting that. He tried to back up, but he'd put himself too close to me. Using Sager's left hand, I grabbed the enemy Titan's arm. Then I turned, wedging my gun's barrel into the SRS's shoulder, and twisted. There was a screech of tortured metal, and the Titan's arm came free.

Using the arm as a makeshift club, I smashed it against the enemy's cockpit. The Titan tried to back up, but I followed relentlessly, alternating blows on each side. The Vanguard stumbled, and then finally pitched over. I quickly moved Sager forward, and then stomped on the SRS cockpit. With a final whine, the enemy titan went dead. It was over. I should have felt elated, but instead I was disgusted. It had been too fuckin' easy. The SRS were supposed to be the elite of the Militia for fuck's sake.

I jumped out of Sager and pried open the enemy titan's cockpit. The SRS pilot looked up at me, and I could tell he wasn't gonna last long. His legs were crushed, and I could see the telltale line of blood dripping out of the seal of his helmet. Internal bleeding most like. The pilot coughed, probably couldn't even speak at this point. I felt a sudden flash of pure rage.

"You fuckin' idiot!" I roared. "Seven fuckin' SRS and you can't even give me a fuckin' challenge?"

I spat on the pilot's prone body, hating his weakness. The rage passed as quickly as it had come, and left a sorta hollow emptiness in its wake. I spat again, before drawing my sidearm and putting the SRS bastard out of his misery.

I climbed back into Sager, and belatedly realized I'd muted my comms this entire time. I quickly turned it back on.

"-can you hear me? I repeat, Commander, can you –"

"I'm fine, Slone," I growled.

There was a pause, then – "The SRS?"

"Dead," I replied darkly. "You take care of yours?"

"Yes. Viper just checked in. They fought a Militia fireteam, but came out on top. Ash did well."

Huh. That was unexpected. I was kinda counting on Ash being killed. I shrugged. Well, nothing to do 'bout that now.

"Tell everyone to rendevouz at the extraction point. We're done here."

"Got it."

Later, when I was sitting in my private quarters on the Bloody Hand, I wondered where it all gone so wrong. I had a glass of the fines' Scotch in one hand, and my pistol in the other. Whiskey was one of the few luxuries I afforded myself, along with cigars imported from the core worlds. I absentmindedly spun my sidearm around my fingers as I thought.

After returning to the ship, the other Predators had disappeared real fast. Probably sensed I was in a shitty mood. I scowled.

Where the fuck did it all go wrong?

See, I started walking down that thin red path when I was young. All warriors walk it, some better than others. One misstep, and they fall. I had walked it longer, and further than most. Long enough that now I feared I'd reached the summit. There was no-one left. I was king, and everyone else was so far beneath me it was almost fuckin' ridiculous. I felt miserable at the thought. What was the fuckin' point anymore? No-one could stand up to me one-on-one, I'd known that for years. But now even overwhelming odds weren't a challenge. What was there left?

Nothing, that's what.

I wasn't getting younger, neither. See, that's what really kept me up at night. No matter how good you are, no matter how many fuckin' battles you win, time makes a mockery of us all. I had maybe two decades of usable years left, if I was lucky. But after that, my edge would dull. I'd become a weak bastard like that fucker Marder, incapable of fighting. Age would do what no-one else could.

And my legend? That'd sputter and die along with my life. Nah, better to go out blazing then waste away in empty years. But right there was the fuckin' problem: there was no-one left to give me that last battle that I wanted. The militia were weak, and the IMC no better. There was a reason Marder hired me, after all.

It almost tempting to end it all now. I was still a legend; time hadn't ravaged me, and I'd be immortalized as the best fuckin' pilot the Frontier had ever seen. I eyed my pistol. It'd be nice and quick, one click and my legacy would be secure. I had always wanted to go out fighting against a worthy opponent, but I was beginning to realize that likely wasn't gonna happen. What do you do when you're too fuckin' good?

I missed the rush, the adrenaline more than anything. It was less and less now, and without it life wasn't worth living.

I picked up the pistol, and slowly pushed it against the bottom of my chin. I let it rest there for a second, feelin' how cold the metal was. I had always thought that this was the coward's way out, but I wasn't a coward. I was too good at not being a coward, and that was the fuckin' problem. I gently slipped one of my fingers over the trigger –

The door to my private chambers opened with a hiss behind me, and I quickly slid the pistol back into its holster.

"Commander?" I recognized Slone's crisp voice.

"What is it?" I snapped, turning around to face her.

"Marder's given us our next target. Take a look." Slone held out a datapad, and I took it grudgingly. On it was a video, and my annoyance turned to astonishment as I watched it. A sniper shot six different pilots in the same number of seconds.

I gave a low whistle. "Six pilots, six seconds. Damn." I was impressed despite myself. There was no way in hell I coulda made those shots. I had always been shit with a sniper rifle.

"This bastard Militia? I've never heard of him." I asked, my mind churning with possibilities.

"Not quite," Slone replied. "Intelligence suggests that he is a part of the 6-4."

"A freelancer," I muttered. This was something new, something I'd never seen before. For the first time in a long time I felt the faint stirrings of hope. There were others, other pilot's I hadn't faced. All I had to do was keep searching for my equal. Maybe I'd restricted myself too much by only focusing on the Militia and the IMC.

"When do we move out?" Slone asked.

"Right now," I responded, though my mind was else ware, examining possibilities and methods of attack.

Slone turned to leave, but I stopped her.

"One more thin': wha's this bastard's name?"

Slone glanced at the datapad before responding. "His name is Mel."