Chapter Text
Casey Daniels was bored. She was always bored, the last 4 years had been nothing, but boredom. Wake up, do whatever stupid piece of homeschooling work her dad found for her, eat, watch TV and then sleep. For 4 years there were no deviations from this schedule. Her dad rarely let her out of the house, but he always went out. He'd never say where, and she'd gotten bored of asking. Casey just assumed it was work, what else would it be anyway? She knew his work was always important to her dad, it was also a very private matter to him. Even before they moved to Angelia, he'd never disclosed what exactly he did and where exactly he'd go off to for months at a time.
Casey snapped shut the book she was reading, some ancient piece of fiction called "Frankenstein". Even with all the technological developments in the past 2 centuries, books were still reprinted and produced. Her dad insisted she read this one, but halfway in she could hardly see why, it was a bore. Casey sighed, absently looking out the window next to her bed. It was dark out, most of the bright obtrusive city lights of Trajan city had been shut off thanks to some new local curfew laws that had been introduced in tandem with the recent occupation courtesy of the IMC. She didn't like the IMC much, they were obnoxious and annoying, constantly barking orders at civilians and parading their shiny metal emotionless "spectres" around town. Casey hated the Spectres, they freaked her out. Sometimes she'd look out her window and one of those creepy triangle-faced freaks would be staring right back up.
She shuddered at the thought and closed her curtains, not noticing the figure standing unnaturally still on a rooftop nearby.
She walked out to the living room, flopping down onto the sofa and flicking the TV on. The first thing that greeted her was a news headline about the war. It was the same every time, IMC victory here, a “terrorist” attack from the rebels there. The wanted board was new though. Casey’d seen it before of course, that with the IMC plastering it everywhere like a missing pet sign, it hadn't been broadcast on TV before. She watched, scanning over the names, some new ones this time: Ezekiel Kamara, Michael Brockovich, Charlie Goodwin. Then there were names she’d seen countless times before; Sarah Briggs, Jack Cooper. Her dad rarely commented on the war, but whenever they came up, he spoke almost fondly of them. It was half perplexing, but Casey just assumed he knew more about their side of the war. Then another name appeared one that made her heart skip a beat. Simon Daniels. That was her dad’s name. After staring for a moment, she scoffed. It couldn’t be her dad, could it?, of course not, purely a coincidence.
At that, Casey heard the front door open making her jump slightly.
“Hey I’m back”, it was her dad.
“Oh, hey Dad,” Casey said quietly looking behind her briefly, the hallway was too dark for her to make out anything but his shape, so she missed the long gash down his arm.
“I’m gonna go, uh take a shower, then I’ll make us some food okay?” He said keeping a strain out of his voice.
She hummed in response, barely even noticing the strain, and continued watching the news, it had switched away from the war to some boring stock graph. Casey sighed, flicking her thumbs and looking at the ceiling. Outside she could hear the quiet tinkling of rain, drops streaking down the window. She picked up the remote, switching through channels, but nothing interesting was on. Soon enough her dad came back out, wearing a black long-sleeve shirt. He went straight to the kitchen adjacent to the living room. She could hear the creak of cupboards being opened.
“So, how was your day?” He asked from the kitchen
“It was… fine, it went the same as every other day here” Casey exhales in exasperation.
He frowns slightly as he sets some cans of soup on the counter.
“That’s um, good?” He responds with a slight sigh.
Casey simply rolls her eyes and continues to watch the boring TV, fidgeting with a button on her blue jacket. Soon enough, her dad emerges from the kitchen, two bowls of soup in hand. He sets them down on the table with a soft clink. Casey gets up from the sofa, switching the TV off and tossing the remote. She sits down across from Simon, picking up her spoon and taking a scoop of soup, blowing on it briefly before sipping it.
Simon blows on his spoonful, “is it good?” He asks,
Casey shrugs, “It’s soup. Yeah, it’s ok”.
Simon sets his spoon down “So, I was thinking recently, I know you don’t like being stuck here all the time, but I was thinking, how would you like to go on holiday sometime soon?” He asks, looking at Casey with a small smile.
She looks up, not nearly as happy as he would’ve hoped, which dampened his smile, “yeah that would be fun” she says dejectedly.
Simon notices quickly, “Are you ok? Do you… not want to go on a trip?” He asks, absently rolling his sore left arm.
Casey plops her spoon down, “It’s not that dad!” She says harshly, “It’s just… you always say ‘let’s take a trip Casey’ and then it never happens, so… I’ve given up trying to be excited” She finishes with a quieter tone lowering her head to stare into her swirling soup.
Simon lowers his head too, frowning sadly. He sighs dejectedly.
“I know things have been… tough… since we moved, and I’m trying my best to make things work…” he starts, “I need you to understand, all of this. It will make sense… eventually… but this trip is different. I’ve been a lousy dad, but I promise that this trip is happening, nothing can get in the way of it, ok?”, he looks up at Casey, smiling sadly.
Casey nods gently. Simon reached over nudging her chin up slightly “Chin up Cay’, things are going to change. I promise” he says smiling.
For the first time in the evening, Casey smiles back picking her spoon up again and continuing to eat the now lukewarm soup. They continue to eat in contented silence.
“I suppose something interesting did happen today,” Casey says looking at her dad.
“Oh really?” He says taking a spoonful of soup.
“Yeah, it’s kind of strange, but your name was on the news,” Casey says sipping the soup on her spoon.
She doesn’t notice Simon completely freeze up, spoon hovering before his lips, some liquid dripping into the bowl. Casey looks up, expecting amusement or confusion, instead, a completely different expression covers her dad’s face. Fear. He slowly places his spoon into the bowl, clearing his throat curtly.
“Uh, in um… what context?” he says nervously. Casey catches his eyes looking around the room, specifically at the windows and door.
“Um the… the wanted list? Alongside those rebels…”, Casey’s voice drifts off as she watches the colour drain from her dad’s face.
“Dad? What’s going on?” She asks confusion and concern etched into her features
He says nothing as he gets up from the table. He heads to a window, peeking out for a moment before closing the curtains. He looks around wildly patting his pockets and muttering something Casey couldn’t hear.
“Dad,” she says, fear wobbling into her voice, he doesn’t respond, instead marching around the room, closing all the curtains “Dad!”.
Finally he looks at her. He walks quickly to the table placing his hands on Casey’s shoulders.
“Casey I need you to listen to me very carefully” he looks directly into her eyes. She’s never seen him this serious before, not since they moved. “Are you listening?”
She nods silently.
“I need you to go into my office. There will be a helmet on my desk. You need to take it” As he’s speaking he stands Casey up leading her to the office. She’s never actually been in there. He opens the door, the office isn’t huge, but what space is left is filled with blueprints, paperwork and various schematics, on a surface-level glance, they appear to be about robotics. Simon goes to his desk pushing blueprints away uncovering a bulky dark red helmet with black accents. The front of the helmet is taken up by a strange stylized blue visor in an odd X pattern. He pushes the helmet aside and retrieves a black box, unclipping the hinges, he pulls out a thin pistol. Casey’s eyes widen, anxiety creeping into her heart, she clutches the hem of her jacket.
“Dad please tell me what the fuck is going on,” Casey says desperately, tears welling up.
Simon shoved the pistol into his pocket after briefly checking the ammo. He picks up the strange helmet and turns to Casey. He holds the helmet to his chest.
“I can’t explain everything now, but I need you to put this on,” he says urgently, gesturing to the helmet.
“Why, what’s happ-“ Casey begins before being cut off.
“Cay’ there isn’t time, put on the helmet” he pushes the helmet into her hands.
At that moment there’s a sound. Very slight. A quiet thump from outside. Simon turns around, eyes trained in the doorway. Casey clumsily pulls the helmet down over her head, despite how obscured vision should be with the shape of the visor, Casey can see out very easily. Simon turns back around to help position the helmet correctly.
“Is this comfortable?” He asks.
“Tight” Casey responds.
Simon nods, leaning back, “good”.
Suddenly, there’s another sound. Knocking at the door. Three sharp raps.
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Simon breathes in hard, he flicks a button on the inside of the helmet. Casey’s vision is immediately berated with lines of blue binary, the helmet UI lighting up and an empty message box opening on the left of her sight.
Simon walks behind Casey to a large vent covering. He swiftly kicks it in without hesitation, causing Casey to flinch at the sudden action.
Turning back around he wraps Casey in a brief but firm hug. He pulls back looking at her seriously.
“I need you to get into this vent, crawl to the end, you’ll come out in an alleyway, from there go left all the way along and then make a sharp right and down the flight of stairs” he explains.
The chat box on the helmet records the directions he’s giving Casey, but she nods and listens intently anyway.
“There will be a locked door at the bottom, the code is 84105, got that? 8 4 1 0 5,” he says, punctuating each number. “When you get in, talk to EB, you’ll know who that is when you get there” Casey nods again.
Simon pulls her into another tight hug.
“Go, now,” he says stepping away from her "go!", with that he backs away towards the living room, watching as Casey slides down into the vent opening
She turns around to say one last thing to him, but he's already left the room. Hesitantly, she turns back and begins to crawl.
He pulls out his pistol, staying low and watching the windows for any movement behind the curtains. He roughly pushes the dining table onto its side, the bowls of soup smashing on the floor, splashing their contents everywhere. Ducking behind the table, Simon listens intently for the slightest movement. A quiet thrumming fills his ears, a tap at the door and then silence.
Suddenly, the door bursts open, flying off of its hinges with an explosion of fire, careening into the wall. Simon falls back to the ground, quickly whipping out his pistol and getting on his knees
Footsteps. Loud footsteps, approaching rapidly. Simon leans around the table watching as a tall, sharply built form enters emerging from the smoke. It’s a spectre. It levels its r-201 ready to open fire, but Simon’s quicker. He lets out two shots from his smart pistol, they immediately track to the android’s head bursting a hole through it.
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Casey startles as a deafening explosion echoes through the vent shaft, the metal shaking beneath her hands and feet. Then gunfire. First, it was a simple two loud bangs, but it soon devolved into round after round of deafening noise. The helmet gave her ears some protection, but it was louder than anything she’d ever heard in her life. She looks back to where she’d crawled. Every nerve and sense in her body screamed at her relentlessly to continue down the vent. But she needed to try and help her dad. Somehow.
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Simon was running low. He knew he was. Smart pistol ammo was in short supply. It had been for years. He’d counted his shots, with only around 5 remaining, including the one in the chamber. The table was damaged beyond recognition, bullet holes tattering the top edge, splinters strewn everywhere. His left arm was killing him. The already painful wound was now on fire, but he chose to ignore it. He had to. He heard heavy footsteps. More spectres. He levelled his pistol again just as something shot by his ear, embedding itself into the wall. Before he could properly comprehend what happened, he felt a sharp pain in his waist. He barely caught a glimpse of the sparkles of glass raining from the nearby window as he felt his body fall to the floor.
He tried to get up, but his body refused to cooperate, only being able to get to his hands and knees. He looked at his smart pistol, it had fallen and skittered halfway across the room. Simon crawled, desperately ignoring the unrelenting pain in his abdomen. He could hear multiple sets of footsteps approaching, sparing a short glance to the doorway as two spectres made their way in, easily stepping over the pile of their fallen brethren. Following them was a distinctly non-robotic shape. Simon continued to crawl for his gun, breathing hard as he felt blood trickle out of his wound like sand in a timer. He was cut short however as a figure stepped in front of him, picking up his smart pistol and pocketing it. He barely had time to look up before he felt hard metal thump into his side, sending him sprawling. He rolled onto his back looking directly up the barrel of a spectre’s mastiff shotgun.
“Oi” a voice came from his left. A distinctly South African voice. “Don’t kill ‘im yet”
Simon looked to his left, as the figure, a man, stood over him. He recognised that hardened face and blond facial hair.
“‘Ello pilot. You’ve been quite elusive,” said Kuben Blisk smugly.
Simon attempts a response but only manages to cough, blood dribbling down his chin. Blisk simply rolls his eyes and motions to the spectres.
“Come on then, get him up” Blisk orders impatiently.
The two spectres grab Simon’s shoulders and pull him forward easily, positioning him on his knees. Simon slumps forward. He could feel the energy draining out of him.
Casey quietly slid out of the vent, the gunfire had stopped now all she could hear was a voice. She crept across her dad’s office and peeked out of the doorway. There in the middle of the living room, she had a clear view of her dad on his knees, two spectres on guard and a blond-haired man she didn’t recognise wearing a white sleeveless pilot suit.
“Let’s get down to business Pilot, I need you to tell me the names of the other militia spies. And I just might let you live” Blisk says coolly, leaning down so he’s at eye level with Simon.
Simon leans his head up, blood dripping from his mouth.
“Go… fuck yourself,” he says weakly but with a defiant smirk.
Blisk drops his head in disappointment. Before looking back at Simon without a hint of annoyance.
“I know you’re type pilot, you’d rather die than tell me a damned thing,” he says, standing up slowly “So… last chance.”
Blisk pulls out a Mozambique and levels it between Simon’s eyes.
“Tell me who the militia spies are, or I’m going to shoot you in the head,” Blisk says with an air of finality.
Simon says nothing, instead pressing the barrel further onto his head and staring directly at Blisk in a silent stand off.
Blisk scoffs, shaking his head.
“You Militia pilots. Always trying to be heroes.” And with that, he pulls the trigger.
The sudden bang startles Casey so much that not so much as a scream escapes her lips as she watches in abject horror, as red viscera paints the floor and her father slumps down. Dead.
“We don’t need him anymore. If he’s here, that titan of his will be too” Blisk says to the spectres.
Casey can barely comprehend what he’s saying as her brain careens through an emotional breakdown. Her eyes are locked on his corpse, tears filling her vision rapidly as her thoughts finally catch up, and the reality of the situation sinks in. Her dad’s dead. oh god he’s really dead. Casey loses control of her body as a sudden loud sob wracks her body.
Blisk immediately turns around, as do the spectres, who immediately level their guns at Casey. She shrieks leaping back and slamming the door shut as a volley of bullets tear through a section of the door and the wall. Casey wastes no time unsteadily diving back towards the vent, bumping her head on the way. She rapidly and unceremoniously crawls through the vent, behind her she can hear the door splinter off its hinges as the spectres kick their way in. She keeps crawling desperately, sobs still wracking her body, the end of the shaft is within sight. She looks back for just a moment to see a spectre levelling its gun at her. this is it Casey thinks in despair. Her thoughts are broken by a shout from the man in white.
“Oi, we need ‘em alive you useless naffs”
Casey continues, finally reaching the end of the vent shaft. She effortlessly pushes the covering off watching as it falls to the floor. Casey hastily pulls herself out of the vent trying her damnedest to not tumble head first out the opening. She mostly succeeds, clinging to the wall before losing support and falling flat on her back and winding her.
She crawled her way back to her feet, gasping for air whilst clutching her chest. Barely steaming herself, she looks around the dark alleyway, a single weak orange light the only thing illuminating the space around her. She glances at the message box in the helmet display. left down the alley. Without giving it a second thought she heads off down the alley. She’s completely enveloped in darkness as she runs, the only light being a dim blue glow radiating from the helmet’s visor. Through the darkness emerges a small, barely noticeable path leading down to a flight of stairs. Sharp right. Flight of stairs. Casey turns sharply, catching herself on the wall as she rushes down the steps stumbling slightly, but catching herself on the railing, not without spraining her ankle. She stifles a squeal of pain, holding onto the railing like a lifeline. Biting her lip to try and stay quiet, Casey looks up. She’s greeted with a solid metal door, with a dusty keypad on the wall beside it. She shuffled forward, studying the keypad. As she’s reading the password from her display, she hears shouting behind her getting closer and closer. Frantically she jams the code in. 8 4 1 0 5. With a ping and flash of green light from the keypad, the door clicks and swings open into a pitch-black room. The footsteps behind her were close enough now that she could tell they weren’t spectres. The local IMC battalion must’ve been alerted. Casey rushes in without a second thought and slams the door shut behind her, just barely catching a glimpse of 3 men at the top of the stairs and muzzle flairs. The bullets ping against the door, none of them piercing the metal
Casey backs away slowly from the door. She can hear muffled voices behind it. Her heavy breathing slowly fades as she forces herself, to some avail, to calm down. Her walking is suddenly halted as she bumps into something. Something large and metal. She turns around, her helmet just barely illuminating a spherical metal shape inches away from her. There’s a smaller sphere placed on the larger one as if it were an eye. Then it turned on. A long rectangular split running down the eye-like sphere lights up like the sun in the pitch-black room, casting a bright cyan light directly into Casey’s face. Caught completely off guard, Casey yelps stumbling back and falling flat on her backside. She watches in horror as more smaller lights erupt from the machine, revealing more of its appearance to her. It looked like a mechanical ball with powerful long legs and arms, crouched down low enough so that its eye was at an acceptably low height. It was also massive. The machine twitched and whirred, the sound of pistons and hydraulics flexing filled the now decently lit room as the machine stood up. However, it soon found the room was far too small when it bashed its head against the ceiling. It stumbled slightly, still crouched, before it swiftly got its bearings and steadied itself. The single slit eye in the centre of its form flicks around the room for a moment before settling on the frightened Casey. The light in the eye blinks(?) twice as it regards her.
“Hello… Casey Aster Daniels,” it says in a synthetic female voice, its eye glowing brighter in time with every syllable.
The machine stares at Casey expectantly, but she says nothing, her eyes glued to the behemoth before her in fear.
“It appears you are suffering a trauma response, would you like me to perform a welfare scan?” the machine asked in the same monotone female voice.
Casey gulps, “What the hell are you?” She asks, ignoring the robot’s question.
“I am a modified Northstar class titan of the militia fleet. My designation is Echo Bravo-3647, but you can call me EB. My current sequence of command is to pilot Simon Lee Daniels and, as of new directive, Casey Aster Daniels” The titan raffles off almost as if it were reading from an imaginary manual.
EB watches intently as Casey slowly gets up.
“You’re… my dad’s titan?” Casey asks cautiously.
“Affirmative” confirms EB, “and yours”.
“Mine?”
“Affirmative.”
“Why?” Asks Casey.
“In the event that anything were to happen to pilot Simon Lee Daniels that would render him unable to continue operating my chassis, a second pilot will be required, considering extenuating circumstances” EB explains.
Casey opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by a loud thump behind her, causing her to spring away from the source.
EB speaks up from behind her, “This current environment is extremely hostile, recommend you embark, acting pilot Daniels”
“Wh- embark what do you mean?” Casey asks eyeing the door fearfully.
EB does not grace her with a response, instead, Casey hears a hiss directly behind her. She turns around to see the front of EB’s chassis open up like a trap door, revealing a cockpit, buttons and lights shining around the interior and a soft leather tan-green seat in the centre.
“Embark” EB repeats.
Another loud groaning thump sounds from behind Casey, prompting her towards the titan. She hesitantly reaches up to the cockpit before pulling herself in with a grunt.
As soon as she’s seated, the forward hatch shuts with a hiss and clank, and Casey is enveloped in darkness.
“I am required to establish a neural link with my current acting pilot. Do you wish to proceed” asks EB immediately.
“Wha- uh, yeah ok, yeah” responds Casey, not quite sure what she just agreed to.
“Protocol 1: link to pilot. Establishing neural link”. Casey is barely given time to comprehend the words before her vision is suddenly assaulted with a green light. It overwhelms her every sense, somehow feeling like beams of light digging into her nerves. Strange unfamiliar ‘thoughts’ flick through her mind in a nanosecond. But just as soon as it began the light deactivates mentally catapulting Casey back into the leather seat, back into darkness, leaving her panting and confused.
“Neural link established, Casey Aster Daniels you are now confirmed acting pilot of EB-3647” EB’s voice sounds out.
“That’s… uh huh” Casey responds weekly, blinking the ghosts of green light out of her eyes.
“Performing system diagnostics check . . . Weapons systems: online, VTOL systems: online, motor systems: online, navigational systems: booting, visual array: booting” EB lists off various systems as the insistent thumping on the door continues.
Suddenly, the darkness in front of Casey flickers to life, digital screens layering the front of the cockpit light up momentarily before activating properly, displaying the dark room in which EB resides.
“Visual array: online. Northstar systems are online. Pre-“The Titan’s data monologue is cut off abruptly by the door before them, snapping off its hinges and clattering to the floor. A squad of white-clad soldiers pour into the room. Stopping short at the titan in front of them.
“Hands in the air-“ One of the grunts shouts before stopping mid-sentence, his eyes widening as they take in EB’s appearance.
Before another order can be shouted, two grunts raise their weapons and open fire. The bullets tinkered against EB’s chassis. The titan raises her hand to shield her eye.
“Deploying close-range countermeasures” EB says in her same monotone voice. Before any of the soldiers could properly react, EB flicks both arms forward, the metal of her forearms shifting as two grey nozzles extend past her hands. The grunts stop shooting, backing off slowly.
“Fall ba-“ one grunt begins, before being immediately cut down by twin funnels of flames bursting from EB’s arm cannons. Casey’s mouth drops open in a silent scream, her hands flying to her visor to cover her sight as the soldiers are flung back through the doorway by the sheer force and heat of the fire.
Soon enough EB ceases fire, “threat neutralised” she says, her eye already looking around for a way out before settling on the ceiling.
Words scatter across EB’s internal screens reading ‘structural weakness detected’. Without warning, the titan retracts the flamethrowers swinging its right arm back to retrieve an enormous, long, rectangular-shaped gun Casey hadn’t noticed attached to the titan’s back. In the same movement, EB angles the gun directly towards the ceiling. Static whirring fills the room as (what Casey can assume is) the ammo casing begins to heat up, spinning rapidly and glowing a bright yellow like a mini sun. Static electricity dances around the top of the cannon indicating the sheer pressure building up in the barrel. Finally, EB pulls the trigger, the gun shooting with a thunderous boom, the bullet rips out of the barrel warping the air around it and colliding with the ceiling. Immediately a large portion of the concrete is torn upwards away into the night sky, the rest crumbling down harmlessly on EB’s chassis. Wasting no time, the titan immediately looks up and angles its limbs.
“VTOL thrusters engaged” the titan says as a vibrating rumble fills her chassis, Casey clutches the armrests of the seat in preparation.
With a roar, the four cylinders on EB’s back come to life shooting the titan out of the cramped room and into open air. Casey shrinks in her seat, the G-force pressing down on her uncomfortably, she can feel herself getting lightheaded, her vision dipping in and out of the darkness. Soon enough, the titan’s ascent halts, its thrusters fanning out, keeping the machine at a steady hover.
“Navigational systems still booting. Calculating most viable escape rou-“All of a sudden, an explosion fires on EB’s left side, her leftmost thrusters. The titan spins violently in the air before disabling the last remaining thrusters and plummeting towards the ground. Casey is left paralysed in fear as she helplessly watches the world spin on the internal display, city lights flashing by in a blur as the titan careens to the streets.
“Deploying flaps” EB says calmly.
Casey hears clunking around the chassis as various flaps extend, attempting to slow the fall. It does little to that extent but does serve to orient the titan, causing the nauseating spinning to cease instead giving Casey a view of the hard street they’re about to plough into. Casey braces herself, closing her eyes tightly as the ground grows closer and closer.
EB rockets down, narrowly avoiding a nearby building before slamming full force into a street, tumbling backwards and sliding across the concrete, Various cars battered out of the way by her impact. The titan comes to a rest at the foot of a small building. EB brings a fist down to her side and pushes herself up, joints creaking as she plants her narrow metal feet below her. She plants her railgun firmly into the concrete as a crutch to bring her to full height.
Casey opens her eyes slowly, somehow relatively unscathed by the violent fall, only suffering some bruises from being knocked around. She clutched her arms around herself, pulling her knees up to her chest.
“I wanna go home,” she says shakily.
“Negative. Your chances of survival returning to your home are 0.4%. Allowing you to return jeopardises protocol 3”, responds the titan matter of factly.
Abruptly, Casey’s vision is assaulted with a large rectangle warning taking up the entire screen in front of her. ‘Warning! Multiple hostile titans approaching’.
Casey doesn’t need an explanation for what that means as a distinct red light appears in the darkness before them. Menacingly stepping into the dim light is a stark black and white titan with sharp rectangular cut shapes and a horizontal cylinder with a circle in the middle for its eye.
“EB what is that?” Casey asks fearfully, eyeing the approaching titan.
“Hostile Monarch class titan. No faction designation” the titan says, standing her ground and watching the Monarch.
About 30 meters from the duo, the monarch stops in its tracks, it unshoulders its chaingun, nestling it into a neutral position.
After a loud click, not too dissimilar to that of a microphone turning on, the monarch, or rather the pilot, speaks.
“I am giving you one chance to power down your titan and give yourself up, or we will use lethal force” a male voice booms out.
Casey watches with bated breath. Neither Titan making a move.
“Have it your way” the hostile titan snarls before abruptly pointing its chaingun at EB.
Before a bullet can even exit the gun's chamber, EB uses her two remaining thrusters to spin herself to the left out of harm's way and lets off a loose shot from her railgun.
The monarch narrowly sidesteps the shot, retaliating by extending a thin appendage on its right shoulder. The appendage fires off an arc of lighting hitting EB directly in the eye. The lighting arcs across her chassis, freezing her joints for just a moment and glitching the internal display. The shock sends electricity spidering around EB's interior, eliciting a yelp from Casey. The moment of weakness from EB was enough for the monarch to charge forward, pelting EB’s chassis with bullets.
EB reaches forward, fingers splayed. From her outstretched palm, a blue vortex erupts forming a swirling iridescent shield in front of her chassis. The vortex catches bullet after bullet, each chunk of metal spinning and swirling next to the other in a messy dance.
The Monarch notices, beginning to falter its charge. But it's too late, EB clenches her palm and releases, splaying her fingers once again. With a pulse of static and a flash of blue light, the stolen ammunition is clumped together and shot out like a slug from a supersized shotgun. The clump of metal careens through the air lightning fast, giving the Monarch no time before it slams into its chassis like a superheated boulder. The sheer force of the projectile shatters the Monarch's shield, sending it tumbling onto its back with a grating thunk, denting the concrete. The titan leans up, attempting to get a footing, before a fully charged railgun bolt collides with its right shoulder, sending splinters of metal and wiring flying. Once again the machine is jolted to the ground, sliding even further away, this time struggling much more to get up this time.
EB takes the chance and bounds forwards, thin powerful legs allowing the titan to cover the distance swiftly. With a quick thruster activation, EB uses the imbalance of momentum to spin into a flying kick aimed directly at the downed Monarch. But the kick never connects as a tidal wave of blue energy slashes into EB's chest, sending the titan hurtling into a nearby building, railgun flying from her grip. The hit sends Casey tumbling around inside EB's cockpit, only just grabbing a hold of her seat. EB grapples with the torn and splintered metal of the building to get to her feet. Once on steady footing, the Titan looks up to see what attacked them. Walking steadily past the still downed Monarch is a titan of much similar stature to EB but of a far more squared chassis shape. Clutched in its right hand is an enormous sword, cutting a long line through the concrete, generating sparks of bright blue electricity.
"EB?" Casey says uncertainly as the enemy titan approaches.
"Hostile Ronin class titan, recalculating odds of victory" supplies EB briefly, but the titan never follows up on the calculation, Casey already knows what their odds are, and it's not looking good. "rerouting auxiliary power to thrusters, Node ID: Left_Hemisphere"
The display before Casey once again lights up with a progress bar labelled 'Rebalancing power supply...'. The bar begins to fill up gradually.
EB leans low, hydraulics on her legs tensing up as the Ronin approaches menacingly.
Without warning the Ronin's entire form dissipates into a shallow wall of sparking electricity. The torrent of electricity barrels towards EB who, seemingly prepared for this, leaps out of the way, narrowly avoiding the long powerful arc of the Ronin's sword as the titan rematerializes to strike EB. The sword misses its mark instead embedding itself in the ruined structure.
Despite EB's quick manoeuvre, the Ronin swiftly recovers, swinging its sword back around, this time clipping EB's right shoulder and severing a long antenna. The enemy titan follows up with a sharp and powerful kick directly in EB's eye, causing the Northstar to stagger back sharply. Before EB can even properly recover, the Ronin stabs its sword into the ground and sharply sweeps it up, firing out another tidal wave of blue electricity. EB attempts to dodge the shot but is clipped in the side, sending her sprawling across the floor away from the Ronin, landing face down, spread eagle on the ground.
Inside EB, Casey hangs on for dear life as the Ronin batters her titan. She can barely see out of the chassis screens due to the sheer amount of visual disruption and static caused by Ronin's continued assault, all that she can make out is the progress bar as it steadily approaches completion. 80%... 84%... 90%... Almost there.
EB pushes herself onto her hands and knees, attempting to get up before a powerful metal foot slams down on her Chassis forcing her back to the ground, it raises its broadsword and rests the point on EB's back.
"Not bad pilot, but not good enough", the hostile pilot sneers from inside the Ronin before the titan raises its hand preparing to thrust the sword into EB, finishing her off for good.
Casey can hear the metal of EB's chassis groaning behind her as the sharp point of Ronin's sword presses into EB's back. Her gaze is locked on the screen before her watching intently as the progress bar fills. 95%... 98%. Come on. 99%. Come on!.
100%
The moment the progress bar fills, a loud thrumming fills the cockpit.
"Power Supply rebalanced, engaging VTOL thrusters," EB says abruptly.
Not a moment later, all four thrusters on EB's back burst to life. The Ronin is knocked completely off balance as the titan shoots out from under it, scraping along the concrete. She disengages her thrusters for a moment to slide roughly onto her feet. Her singular eye scanned the dark, decimated street quickly locking onto its target, the plasma railgun, lying discarded by a few crushed cars. Between them and the gun however is the Monarch, who has recovered from its crippled state.
"Come at me," The Monarch pilot says defiantly, raising its gun.
EB doesn't react to the Monarch, instead, she plants her feet and propels herself towards her gun. The monarch fires, the bullets whizzing past EB as she rockets towards the titan. The Monarch backs away as EB shows no sign of stopping, despite the bullets tinkering off her chassis. Before EB can strike the Monarch, the titan leaps out of the way, allowing EB to rocket past and firmly grab a hold of her railgun before skidding to a stop and launching herself into the dark night sky, railgun in hand. EB's sensors scan the dark city before settling on the opening to a large underground dry sewage canal
Warning! Projectile incoming
By the time Casey reads the warning, EB has already rolled out of the way, dodging the shell tearing through the night sky. The titan doesn't bother looking for a source and instead locks onto the canal, finally rocketing towards their escape. Casey is squished back against the seat by the sheer speed of the titan.
Back down on the ground, Ronin stabs his sword into the ground, splintering the concrete and sending debris flying. As he wrenches himself off the ground, he watches in bitter silence as the rogue Northstar, now just a glowing blue speck in the darkness, disappears below the cityscape.
"Oi, did you get the runaway?" comes the staticky voice of Blisk on the comms.
"Negative" The pilot responds with a resigned sigh. He hears Blisk scoff on the other end.
"Useless, the lot of you," he mutters, "regroup, we'll get those bastards another time," Blisk says before the radio clicks off.