I do not own Infinite Stratos or Titanfall
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RSPN Modular X-BIOS v1.698
Do you remember me?
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During my time in high school, I remember learning about the Battle of Kolemh, a battle where crimson Blood and an unrelenting fire rained down from the heavens. It truly was a massacre on all sides; however, that wasn't what stood out to me. It wasn't the sea of flames in the sky or the rising ocean of blood on the planet's surface that caught my eye. No. What captivated my interest was something much more, yet even less; a pilot.
It amazes me how a single pilot—in the most simple of terms, human—swayed the outcome of that blood bath.
Over the years, a multitude of pilots have done the same, making the impossible possible; Kepler, Demeter, and Typhon being several. The reputation they made for themselves over their short existence has granted them many names—heroes, freaks, machines—a majority of them unsavory. Of all these handles, there is one that truly embodies a pilot's nature; one that I, myself, find appropriate…
His own, heavy breathing was all he could hear. The boy watched as the pilot struggled to their feet, the knife still embedded in their helmet's visor. Raising their left hand, they gripped the handle and wrenched it out, the sickening sound of grinding metal and bone, accompanying it. Their left hand, still gripping the blade, dropped to their side. The pilot looked up at him, the red lights of their helmet flickering violently and blood pouring forth from the wound. Time froze. All noise abruptly cut out.
… Demons.
A dead man's legacy.
Rook's eyes snapped open, only to see the dim, blue glow of his alarm clock. His right eye ached. It was just a nightmare...
