Chapter Text
Major Vance Gardener’s vision was suffice to say, the sky on any Interstellar Manufacturing Corp - or IMC - controlled planet that had seen its fair share of air pollution as a result of heavy industry. Nearly pitch-black as his senses slowly returned to him, the ambient glow of his helmet’s visor cast a faint blue light over the various instruments contained in the cockpit of his presumably inert Titan . Once a form of machine meant for service like agriculture, this particular dormant giant was one of many models to have been designed expressly for wars which placed them front-and-center.
Groaning as his neck popped, the Special Recon Squadron and Marauder Corps veteran waited as the hardy dome encompassing his head acclimated to the low-light conditions of the cockpit. With a briefly accelerating heart rate, he noticed that none of the screens, buttons and whatnot were lit up as they would be if functional.
A good deal of him hoped that the behemoth of steel they were integrated into was just taking a lengthy nap.
“Dammit… My back… SF, you still with me?” Vance asked to no reply, as he began fiddling with a few of the key inputs and buttons within the cockpit, “ Ripper , we’ve been through worse than our transport being shot down. You got out of the first Widow crash just fine.”
Right. How did Vance end up in this situation which would cause most titan Pilots, whether fresh out of their training or having weathered battle after battle like he has, to begin silently (or loudly) praying to their maker?
Typhon was meant to be a quick in-and-out to put it in layman’s terms. While the threat of the IMC’s “gun to the head of the Frontier Militia” in the form of the Fold Weapon was nothing to brush off, everything appeared so simple. Drop in with the 9th Militia Fleet and whatever remained of the original detachment deployed to the planet, kick IMC ass and take names after taking control of that giant, Biblically accurate angel-esque alien structure their long-time enemy tried to use to end the war.
“Alright, HUD’s back and… Jamming? Not good-” Vance murmured once full functions returned to his helmet and other gear. In the top left of his vision was a semi-transparent circle trying to denote the geographic and topography of his immediate surroundings, as well as a gilded arrow denoting his own IFF. The series of graphics spazzed with static, the all-to-familiar red text indicating his minimap was being jammed awkwardly making itself known every-so-often, “And not at all consistent. Huh.”
Another thing. In between bouts of nothing or visual gibberish on his minimap, Vance saw no friendly blue nor hostile red blips anywhere around. He had led a small squad of Titans during the assault on the IMC airbase where the Fold Weapon’s power source, called ‘ The Ark ’, was to be loaded onto a ship - the Draconis . Then, when the flight went airborne, he was one of the many who boarded commandeered Widow transports in pursuit.
Then, that damned Apex Predator in his practically amped Northstar flew in. Vance was taken aback by how the Titan seemed to keep an indefinite Flight Core, her missile racks practically bottomless as she repaid what he and a few other Pilots and Militia fighters did to the IMC air forces in kind. He watched as that kid who’d been linked to Captain Latismosa’s Titan made a close landing on the dropship Barker piloted when their Widow got wrecked, then proceeded to be fast-balled to another IMC ship - the Malta - by said Titan and with help from one of the Blackbird units attached to a hired merc group.
“Lastimosa picked ‘em right. Bless his soul, and thank God for that kid.” Vance moved to try and get the hatch of his Titan open.
He didn’t exactly know what happened next as the Northstar came around for another pass, knocking his craft down with Ripper narrowly stuffing him in its cockpit. A real shame he had to spend a while just milling around near a ravine as he waited for an extra Widow to come down and get him. Though, the radio channels following their rough landing apparently spoke of that same Pilot taking control of the Malta.
Vance quickly patted his chest-rig layered over his drab olive jumpsuit once he remembered that, finding the sheathe for his data-knife. Thank God it was there- If it could take over a damn war vessel in a few seconds it was certainly something he wouldn’t want to lose. But a knife would always just be a knife. Modern war wasn’t meant to be fought with just blades - Even if one piloted a Ronin-class.
He let out a relieved sigh as he paused to check the side compartments of the cockpit, finding a loaded R101 Carbine fitted with plain iron sights. Hidden a bit deeper was a Softball grenade launcher, the closest thing to older Mag Launchers he was able to run without causing the folks in Militia logistics to give him a stern lecture. It was already strange for him to be employing it over the dedicated anti-Titan MGL, or the Mag Launcher’s much more widespread little brother.
“Hello..? Ripper, c’mon.” Vance tried to nudge his Titan with another voice command as he grabbed his guns, sighing as silence met his words again.
Slightly shaking his head, he uttered the second part of the S.R.S.’s motto, “On my own… Divided, we ambush.”
The cockpit then rattled as the instruments within slowly returned to life, nearly sending the Pilot off his feet. A relatively monotone yet distinctly feminine voice with a mechanical edge, “But united, we stand.” the portion of the motto which came before her Pilot’s words.
Under his helmet, Vance let his mouth curl into a slight smile as he noted the golden IFF on his minimap turn much larger and layered, indicating his Titan was active. He’d nearly given in to despair for a moment, “Good to see you’re still kicking, Ripper. Gimme a system report.”
“Vanguard Sierra-Foxtrot Two-Zero-Three-One, online. Majority of critical systems are functional. Currently attempting restoration of optical feeds. Followed by attempted reactivation of tactical systems.” Ripper recounted.
“Got it. I’ll disembark and begin scouting around our position. I have no clue if we’re still even on Typhon.” Vance spoke as he stowed his Softball on the magnetic holster on his back, doing a quick chamber-check of his carbine.
“Affirmative. Depressurizing cockpit.” Ripper replied as a brief gust of air escaped the cockpit once it was unsealed. As the hatch opened and Vance jumped out, using a small boost from his jumpkit to break his fall, he was greeted with a strange… But an oddly familiar sight.
The boots of the Militia Pilot touched onto the cracked paved road which ran through an absolutely desolate , abandoned, ruined city. High above were bleak dark clouds occasionally pock-marketed against the world’s dull grey ceiling. The various buildings all around, both low and high-rise, were in a myriad of conditions ranging from how far nature was into reclaiming the space they occupied. Topping it off, nothing but the silence of a brisk wind accompanied the man and his Titan. It was just enough to get his shemagh to flutter a bit.
“ Hoo-boy .”
Vance was surprised at his relative unsurprise at the sight. He’d seen such things before in the battle against the IMC. Reflected in both their cities and those on the Frontier Planets the corporation tried to exercise eminent domain upon. He wasn’t happy that he seemed to have just landed in one or the other at the moment, but a part of him certainly appreciated that it wasn’t at least an utterly hostile jungle of sorts.
As far as he could recall from the initial Typhon 9th Militia Fleet battlegroup’s survivors during the short time before the assault on the Draconis’ airbase, it wasn’t great for either them or the IMC troops on the hunt.
Turning around, Vance saw the slightly scratched rendition of one of Typhon’s natural predators as nose art on Ripper’s lower cockpit hatch, the floral “spines” of a prowler’ s neck flaring. Just below that was some writing of her designation, SF-2031 . His Titan seemed to be sitting in the ruins of a large concrete structure - a parking garage of sorts which had partially collapsed under Ripper’s weight. Nearby, her XO-16 chaingun was held tightly by its handguard in the Titan’s right hand. As the Pilot observed, he monitored the small gauge on the lower-left of his HUD denoting Ripper’s status.
“Optical feeds online. Additional essential functions online. Beginning movement calibration checks.” Ripper spoke as the shine casted by the blue oculus mounted on her “face” flickered. Said face was a small cylindrical module on her upper cockpit hatch, moving independent of her relatively blocky hull as she scanned her surroundings, “We are certainly not aboard the vessel we were meant to reconvene with above Typhon, and it is highly unlikely we remain on that planet.”
Vance nodded as he moved to further investigate this strange, clearly war-torn or similar place they had found themselves in. Stepping into an abandoned home with an open door, he inquired over helmet communications, “So, got any clue where we might be?”
A small rectangle in the top-right of Vance’s HUD appeared with Ripper’s “mugshot” on it in conjunction with an audio-visualizer for her speech, “Based upon our immediate surroundings and radar scans I can pull data from between periods of jamming, some kind of unpopulated city center.” the Titan then slowly stood up from her throne of rubble and debris, “Which you have already likely deduced.”
“Ah. Your minimap’s on the fritz as well?” Vance asked as he looked out a second-storey window, staring at Ripper from across the street. Taking a few tentative steps forward, the Titan imitated a nod.
“It occasionally shifts into a state comparable to when interference is brought on by active enemy radar jamming. However, it is not comprehensive. Possible result of undetermined damage to your equipment and my systems.”
“Well, I am getting an eighty-eight-percent reading on your hull integrity. I’d wager that’s more outta’ the rough drop outta the second Widow, and it’s about your armor more than anything.” Vance shrugged, walking around the room he was in.
It appeared to be some kind of children’s bedroom, with the walls being a long-since aged and chipped mix of blues and whites with toys and other trinkets scattered around in a… sort of trail, “The people who lived in this house look like they left in a hurry. Cabinets, wardrobes, things left open and emptied. Or dropped and never picked up.”
“Likely. I have spotted a buildup of abandoned vehicles roughly four-hundred meters away from our current position due east. This city probably underwent some form of evacuation.” Ripper observed, pointing to Vance’s right from where the house was.
“Better than most settlements that get attacked by the IMC-”
“Negative. If it were the IMC who had prompted such an evacuation, we would likely have been engaged by their forces or have come across their infrastructure.” Ripper interjected.
Vance set down a small action figure of a mech from some old media lost to him, letting out a “hmm” in response, “Then what did..?” he mumbled.
“Unknown. I suggest we begin moving to gain a better understanding of our current surroundings. As it stands, our mission to be upheld as per Protocol Two is to rendezvous with any Militia forces on this world.” Ripper suggested. Vance nodded, climbing out of the second-storey of the house and letting his jumpkit break his fall again. A damn convenient piece of lumbar-mounted tech, the thing was.
“Since our radars don’t seem to be clearing up anytime soon, link to my helmet feed if you’re still able to. A second pair of eyes should help us spot any nearby friends.” Vance said as he began walking in no direction in particular.
“Affirmative. Follow mode, engaged.” Ripper announced as she adjusted her grip on her chaingun, primed and ready to go, “Got your back.”
The Pilot did another check-over of his own kit before proceeding. All his tacticals were in order, and he’d been cooped up in Ripper’s cockpit for who knows how long. Stretching off his legs with some brush-ups on his parkour skills, he jumped off a few walls that formed an alleyway to take a path on the rooftops of the city around whilst Ripper kept to the road. She was a 20-foot tall mech, after all.
The two members of the Frontier Militia then began their march in search of allies and answers to this strange place they had found themselves in. How many klicks to go? However many it would take until something broke through on their minimaps or came into plain sight.
“Suspected radar interference has intensified. Mapping functions are no longer feasible.” Ripper spoke as she stomped down a street, taking her due-diligence to avoid the husks of cars and similar.
Climbing onto the roof of a four-storey building from the top of one that was just half its height, Vance let out a huff as he peered around from his new vantage point, “Likewise. Damn map’s just static. Still got nothing from my own eyes though, you?”
“Negative.” Ripper said flatly.
“Not even a body or two? Human remains… Those who once lived here?” Vance prodded.
“I have detected no such entities. My functions in regards to such sensors however, are fully active.”
While the city and the state it was in was not a shocker to the Pilot, the fact the place was absurdly devoid of any human presence did put a degree of worry in the man. Members of the S.R.S. were always meant to be on edge, it came with the assignments. Going behind enemy lines, dealing with overwhelming odds that never wanted to turn in their favor… Just a regular day at the office, some would say.
But this was just uncanny. It was clear the city’s population tried to evacuate itself a long , long time ago. But even then there should’ve been maybe a skeleton or two fossilized in the soil.
But any more reflection on that end was suddenly shot down as Vance’s eyes darted to his minimap as he continued forward, dropping to a three-storey building. While it remained a mess of grey static with only his and Ripper’s golden signatures barely visible… They soon weren’t. Somewhere up ahead was detected, appearing as an unknown, slightly brighter grey blip.
“Ripper, I’m picking up unidentified signatures ahead. Confirm if you are as well.” Vance told his robotic companion as he drew his R101, which had just been hanging from a sling for a good while since their awakening.
“Affirmative. They are registering on my end as well. Expedition weapon systems armed.” Ripper replied as she raised her XO-16, now scanning around with an itchy, mechanical trigger-finger.
Vance jumped from building to building, his jumpkit in conjunction with his refined movement skills enabling him to draw ever closer to those mystery blips even while holding onto a weapon. Clambering to a sixth-storey roof via several sets of perrons, the Pilot found his minimap flaring with more unknown signatures. The near-black, dark grey backing of the HUD element practically lightened as dozens of lighter dots appeared without due respect for the urban landscape.
He peered over the parapet of the roof as he dove down into a prone, “Ripper, stay put. I’ll get visual.”
“Roger. Guard mode, activated.” Ripper said as she stepped closer to the building Vance was on the roof of. She kept her chaingun at the ready, the Acolyte missile pods mounted behind her shoulders on her large “backpack” of sorts extending upward.
“What the…” Vance’s eyes narrowed behind his visor, spotting the owners of the unknown signatures. The first thing that came to mind was Reaper , a model of IMC machine that was an absolute pain to deal with both for infantry and Titan Pilots. But nothing down where he was looking appeared to be that stout bastard of a war robot.
Instead what he saw was a mass of strange machines milling- or flying about. Some of the airborne robots reminded Vance of IMC plasma drones in their disc-like appearance, but that was it. The rest were of strange, varied shapes while those on the ground seemed to follow a pattern of being sets of weapons and other modules mounted on tripedal or quadruped legged platforms.
“Our unknowns are some machines. Platoon’s worth. None of ‘em look IMC-made. I can’t make out any human personnel or autonomous infantry operating along them, if any.” Vance reported, slightly freezing as he saw that one of the many mechanical beings down below noticed him.
And then the rest did. They all stopped moving to-and-fro, dropping their previous tasks. The flying ones hovered in the air. They didn’t even float to where he was to get a better picture for their comrades. They all stared at the little glowing light poking out from a distant building’s parapet. Eventually, one of the largest among them shifted the two-pronged guns which it bore, a blue thunder crackling between each of them as it aimed at Vance.
All of the grey blips suddenly turned into a hostile red .
“Pilot, recommend you embark!” Ripper called with a clear-cut tone of concern as she hustled forward, taking aim at the pure swarm of strange machines. Her XO-16 spewed hot, armor penetrating lead towards the unit which roughly matched her in height- The one aiming at her Pilot. The covering fire just barely caused the thing’s aim to veer off a few inches to the side.
“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Vance grunted as he sprinted away and jumped off the side of the building, the double thundercrack of the enemy quadruped’s rail-cannons booming through the urban space as the Pilot narrowly avoided being melted by the shots.
By now, every single one of the machines noticed the presence of the two Frontier Militia personnel, registering them as hostiles. Machine gun, rocket, plasma and a whole cacophony of different types of flak screamed towards Ripper and the free-falling Vance, the latter of which was caught in one of the Titan’s hands as he was set down on the top of her hull.
Vance hefted open the top hatch of his Titan and dropped back into the cockpit, the thing slamming shut soon after. Getting himself acclimated, he rested his hands on the various instruments found within.
“Transferring controls to Pilot. Advise defensive maneuvers until enemy is thoroughly analyzed.” Ripper said as she stepped back, simultaneously relinquishing her movement to her human Pilot.
“I’ve already got all I need to know about ‘em, they’re not friendly and sure as hell aren’t letting us go without a fight!” Vance huffed as his helmet HUD was linked to Ripper’s optical feeds, the elements of it shifting to fit information relevant to the Titan.
“Very well. X-O-Sixteen, Acolyte pods and Vortex shield standing by. Currently synthesizing Electric Smoke countermeasures.” Ripper informed, bringing a tiny smile to the Major’s face. Doing a glance over of graphics representing such elements, he nodded.
“Then let’s get to work!” the Pilot barked as his hands got to work on Ripper’s controls, the neural link the two shared enabling a near-seamless realization of his intent.
Bursts of hot exhaust flared from the thrusters on Ripper’s back as the Titan surged forward and out of cover. Skidding across the ruined road, her left arm was brought up with a swirling shield of controlled plasma emanated from that hand’s palm. The various projectile munitions slung at the war machine by the mechanoid aggressors were stopped dead in their tracks, energy-based shots dissipating entirely. The vortex which they were trapped in shifted from its blue hue into a critical red as more and more shots were absorbed.
Then, the shield popped as all the gathered rounds were flung back at the enemy. A large column of smaller machines was immediately eviscerated, while their surviving brethren attempted to space themselves out in an attempt to eliminate this tactic’s effectiveness.
It was for naught when Vance raised his Titan’s chaingun, picking off the occasionally spread-out targets with concentrated bursts of 20mm fire. The smaller machines seemed to be quite receptive to the force application, bursting in small explosions or buckling as their joints and other core parts were shredded. Larger foes similar to the one that had first engaged Vance however remained steadfast, continuing to bombard Ripper with their guns.
Ripper continued to fire her chaingun, eventually expending one of her drums completely after felling most of her ground targets. Before Vance could call a reload, plasma bolts and shots from the various airborne craft now swarming around his Titan began to make impact. A light blue energy gauge above a series of horizontal bars on the Pilot’s HUD began to decrease while the hexagonal pattern of Ripper’s energy shields flared where shots landed. As the Titan adjusted to get a lock on the threats above her, a sudden shake rattled the cockpit as her shields broke entirely.
“Warning! Warning! Shields are down, my hull is taking damage!” Ripper announced with a backing hint of urgency as Vance grit his teeth.
“I’m working on it-” he replied as the small drones were painted with hexagonal targets, a few being marked with two or three as Vance struggled to get every one of them in Ripper’s sights, causing some overlap.
He eventually noticed an orange flicker from a small graphic representing the status of Electric Smoke, immediately popping it and finding his Titan refuge in the dark, sparking cloud. For a moment, everything went silent as Vance and Ripper’s enemies lost their aim. Only a few tried to blind-fire into the smoke.
Momentarily, a series of homing rockets burst from the Titan’s Acolyte pods and flew to meet their targets. What machines Vance had managed to paint fell silent in their attack as they outright exploded or fell to the ground. Some remained as their guns fired to much less effect, but got turned into swiss-cheese scrap by chaingun fire.
“Enemy threat level has significantly fallen. Keep it up, Pilot.” Ripper remarked calmly, contrasting her fluid dodge of a beaming shot from one of the guns of the now-lone rail-cannon wielding machine. She loaded a fresh drum of ammunition into her chaingun, taking the time to stow the emptied one away.
The large mech now hunched forward, Vance maneuvered his Titan to charge at the only enemy unit which seemed to match Ripper in height. Like a cornered and grounded Northstar, the strange machine which seemed to have a chassis stylized in a “mouth” began letting loose uncharged bolts of plasma which the Vanguard-class Titan either dashed out of the way or took to her now swiftly-recharging shields. Getting close to the machine, Vance got Ripper to kick the thing, staggering it. The machine’s frontal armor already slightly caved from the force, Vance forced the opening even bigger as Ripper spun from the momentum of the kick and unloaded a sizable chunk of her chaingun and remaining Acolyte ammo into it.
The silver-plated mechanoid fell low, its legs unable to maintain balance in the wake of all the damage to what the two Militia members thought were to be its critical systems. Stepping forward, Ripper punched into the opening within the “mouth” of the machine and reached for something that seemed to be emanating a bright glow, not unlike a typical Pilot’s helmet.
But what the Titan ripped from the opposing hull wasn’t a Pilot. It was a relatively small sphere serving as a lone optic - As a core . Vance, and to an extent Ripper, just stared at the thing in a silent disbelief and confusion. They quickly drew the conclusion between the core and its owner however, and Ripper crushed the thing in her hand before kicking the steel carcass over.
“Enemy force neutralized… Pilot, I advise you to turn your attention to your HUD’s navigational elements.” Ripper spoke as Vance relaxed into the seat of her cockpit, arching a brow.
“Huh? Minimap’s clear. It’s not being jammed anymore.” the Pilot mused.
“Whatever those machines were, they seemed to be the source of the interference. In the event we experience further radar jamming, the severity of compromise may be a valuable alternative in determining the positions of possible enemy units.” Ripper suggested.
“Noted… And I think we’ll need to put that into practice, soon.” Vance spoke with exasperation as his just-cleared radar began to lightly go static again.
“Affirmative. Recommend you remain embarked while my AI handles navigational control.” Ripper waited for the word. After a lengthy pause, Vance shrugged.
“‘Rog. Get us the least resistant path to anywhere . That last skirmish knocked you down to eighty-percent hull integrity and cost us quite some ammo.” the Major affirmed as Ripper began moving on his own. Trying to lose the tension, he sat as a weary passenger to his Titan’s actions.
“Understood.” Ripper replied, before adding, “I advise you to take this as an opportunity to get some rest. A clear mental state and recuperated body are important components of effective conduct in high-stress environments.”
Vance let out a tired chuckle, “‘Roger.”
Before long, Ripper began a trek through the ruined city headed to only God-knows-where. Using her navigational systems in conjunction with a relatively stable radar, she stomped forward.
“Transferring navigational controls to Pilot. I hope you found the respite satisfactory.” Ripper’s flat voice spoke as Vance took control over her again. The man had just been getting comfy, but now he needed to deal with a few instances of those weird machines trying to gun for the two of them.
“No worries.” the Major replied as he turned Ripper to aim at a plasma-gunner propped up on a roof. A short XO-16 burst caused it to scurry out of sight, “They don’t seem intent on giving up, but they aren’t quite working together.”
“That seems to be the case. They have not conglomerated densely for their radar interference to reach levels such as those prior. Nor are many leveraging any of the tactical advantages at their disposal in our current state.” Ripper observed as she crushed a machine-gunner under the weight of her chassis, any shots the thing got off just pinging off her shields.
“Rushing down a narrow urban corridor without much room to maneuver. Far too similar to District 12 back home. By now we’d be bombarded by anti-Titan fire, or get sandwiched between a few enemy Titans.” Vance remarked as the hostile blips on his minimap popped in and out, with a few… Grey ones, occasionally. A slightly dense group appeared up ahead, but they just seemed to be a few frail flyers who were dealt with by a few Acolyte missiles.
“This is a highly disadvantageous environment. We are fortunate to not have been confronted by hostiles exemplary in crowd control and enclosed environments.” Ripper added.
In a strange turn, their radars cleared up the further Ripper moved. With only the heavy beat of her steps, rattling of a few parts and hiss and grumble of her cooling systems, Vance chose to reply to his Titan’s remark in the relative silence. May as well keep the conversation going.
“We’d be melted slag by now if there was a Scorch worth his salt around here.” the Pilot spoke, still scanning about the terrain in front of him- Or Ripper, technically.
“That would be a correct assumption to make. Scorch-class Titans or Titans equipped with such loadout packages are highly effective in environments such as this.” Ripper moved into a cross intersection, slightly more open with one of the quadrants leading into a park.
“Yeah… Scott would have a field day here.” Vance recalled a comrade of his, before realization hit. He hadn’t tried anything to contact any of his allies, which though justified by his and Ripper’s initially empty radars in conjunction with a clear hostile presence in the city, was something he should probably get to doing sooner or later. Though first, he asked, “Ripper, have you tried to send a distress beacon or message over friendly comms? And don’t tell me you would’ve told me if you had.”
“I have considered doing so. However, similar interference to our radar systems was exacerbated in regards to long-range radio communications.” Ripper said.
Oh.
“We’re in the dark unless we miraculously stumble across some Militia, then?”
“Highly unlikely occurrence. Highly likely that is our only option at the moment.” Ripper confirmed, “I do not recommend relying on our allies making themselves known at the sight of us, either.”
“I wouldn’t want to make myself known if I was just a grunt here too.” Vance furrowed his brows. If he was still a random infantryman out here, who at best would either have his softball or a proper anti-Titan weapon to combat those machines, he definitely wouldn’t have made it this far by himself.
“However, in the event we do encounter friendly infantry and-or Titans, it is our obligation to assist them in their objectives as they see fit.” Ripper stated. The fact she was a home-grown Militia machine shining through.
Vance let out another small chuckle, “United we stand.”
“Divided, we ambush.” Ripper parroted her Pilot’s words of despair from maybe about an hour or so ago.
The Pilot and Titan continued their march through the desolate urban landscape for quite some time. At some point to conserve energy, Vance had decided to just walk normally rather than hustle in a sprint. Ripper’s size let her individual strides cross quite a distance, so it wasn’t much of a problem. Besides, by now those contacts from prior had seemingly lost total interest in the two. So they feasibly could take all the time they wanted from getting to an undetermined point B, from the point A they had been at when they first winded up here.
However, it appeared that night was beginning to fall upon the city. In retrospect, the state that the sky was in when Vance and Ripper first woke up was something akin to a sunset, meaning that they would soon be wandering around in the dark if they continued to move. While they were fully capable of doing so, Ripper understood that Vance wasn’t a machine like her, and Vance that his Titan had limitations.
The two made it a soft objective to find a good place to recuperate for at least a few hours. Once the skies were properly darkened, their attention was caught by a quite peculiar structure. It was similar to a warehouse of sorts, except… Bigger. Colored an inconspicuous drab green, wedged between a few other ruined buildings.
Vance disembarked from his Titan and moved towards the apparent warehouse. Before getting Ripper to throw its shutters up and call it a night, he figured he would find a more “respectful” way of opening it. However, even as he moved around the whole of the perimeter, there wasn’t a door or similar to be found. Odd.
“Ripper, gimme a scan for any possible entry-points on this building. I don’t know if it’s just my helmet or what.” Vance asked, the bright blue oculus that was Ripper’s “eye” standing out in the darkened environment.
“Only the reinforced shutters of the structure enable entry in-and-out without excessive use of force. However, I have picked up an integrated maintenance panel. Marking your HUD.” Ripper replied. Soon enough, a yellow outline appeared on Vance’s helmet view on a specific portion of what he assumed was just more wall next to the warehouse’s shutters.
The Pilot moved to it and, using his data-knife as an impromptu wedging device, got the panel open. He didn’t recognize the precise machinery and wiring held within, but that wouldn’t be a problem if he found any marginally wide port… To which he did. Thumbing a switch on his knife, parts of the circuitry near its hilt extended to the tip as he stuck the blade in the port. A set of circular ring counters were projected from its pommel, counting down how long until the hack was finished. Once it did, the last ring receded back into the pommel with a cheery beep as Vance pulled the knife out and closed the panel.
Thank God Vance made sure he had the knife beforehand.
The small victory in that act was soon overtaken by surprise as the shutters of the warehouse… Didn’t open. It took a solid few minutes, with what the two could swear was rumbling coming from the building, until the shutters began to give way. Now revealed to be one of several doors and gates, an extra few minutes finally revealed the inside of the warehouse. Vance and Ripper found it… Empty. Absolutely nothing. At least that meant there was no problem getting the latter inside.
So, the two hastily entered. The floor almost… Creaking? Under Ripper’s steps despite the fact it appeared as reinforced metal. Using a control panel in the room, Vance reactivated the shutters and other gates to the “warehouse”. Sealed inside, he let out a hearty huff at the end to his first day - or first few hours - on this foreign world.
“... Pilot. We are not on regular ground.” Ripper spoke after a while, her “face” pointing downwards.
“Reinforced titanium-steel flooring. Something graded to support a crouching, fully kitted Titan or any amount of other forces with equivalent weight without putting a dent in the Earth below.” Vance deduced, just noting how… Vast the empty room seemed to be, “Wouldn’t want potholes."
“This is an elevator shaft. It extends several kilometers below the surface.” Ripper corrected, “I am unable to determine where exactly the base of this structure leads.”
“Ah… What?” Vance eyed his Titan skeptically. So, he’d just effectively hacked into one big elevator, sealed himself and his Titan inside… And didn’t know where it led. To be fair, he probably couldn’t tell that in any way, and Ripper didn’t seem to either.
“We are possibly at risk.” that was all Ripper could reply, before she just let her gaze track her Pilot. Seemed like Vance had to make the call whether or not to investigate further, or just wait things out and hope whoever controlled the thing didn’t call it down. For all he knew… It could just be another unit of those machines.
Weighing his options: Between going back out and risking being attacked at night by confirmed hostiles outside, waiting in the elevator till he was rested or sending it down himself to an unknown party… There was a lot of chance, and not a lot of solid ground to stand on.
But between his survival skills, experience as an S.R.S. Pilot and whatnot, he held the idea of chance quite close. Chance was what seemingly brought him and Ripper here, both the world as a whole and this particular space. By freak chance apparently did one of his similarly-ranked buddies lose his life after a gizmo he used to help himself infiltrate an IMC research facility on Typhon malfunctioned. Chance was a blessing or curse, and it was never known what it was until it definitely became either-or.
Seeing as his luck would be tested regardless, Vance pressed a few buttons on the console and got the elevator moving down. Better to rip off the bandaid now than wait for another rude awakening.
“Ripper, overall status?” the Pilot spoke as he went over his weapons. He was still loaded on ammo for his R101 carbine and Softball launcher, a P2011 pistol sitting comfortably in its holster as an immediate last resort.
“All critical and tactical systems online. Hull integrity at eighty-percent. Primary and secondary batteries are fully charged, tertiary battery has been expended to seventy-five-percent. Current X-O-Sixteen chaingun ammunition: One loaded three-quarter hundred-fifty-round drum, one empty hundred-fifty-round drum and four additional fully loaded drums. Acolyte pods ammunition at sixty-percent in total.” Ripper reported, shifting to stand up straight as the elevator descended and the ceiling wasn’t too close for comfort.
“Get prepared to greet any hostile guests at the bottom of the shaft. Especially if they’re like those machines from earlier.” Vance drew his Softball, the launcher taking the place of his carbine. He already poised himself to aim it, the projectile’s estimated trajectory already painting itself on his HUD.
The two Militia personnel waited, one with slightly bated breath and the other with calculations and possible outcomes already running through her circuits as the elevator continued its descent.
Chance was feeling very, very kind today (or tonight, by now) to these two. As the elevator continued to descend, the Pilot and Titan were a bit shocked to find that the whole of the shaft wasn’t just rails and concrete, or whatever else reinforced the sides of the hole which the platform descended. After the first half-kilometer, they found nearly every side, bar one, to be reinforced glass . It gave way to a view of a hollowed out cavern with what appeared to be an entire underground settlement at the bottom.
Vance damn well hoped there were people of some sort down there once he got over his initial surprise, setting his Softball launcher back on its magnetic holster, he murmured, “This better not be a rerun of Troy…”
“Given the outward operational status of the complex we are currently overlooking, it is unlikely that a similar event to the Colony G21 Massacre has occurred here.” Ripper spoke as she tried to step forward to get a better view of the facilities below. It seemed she was conscious of her weight, and didn’t want the elevator to suddenly buckle and send her and her Pilot into an impromptu Titanfall. Though, it seemed to hold up well enough, as she brought herself as close to the edge of the platform as possible.
“Yeah… I’m seeing… Vehicles? Streetlights. Like a night out in Angel City… Even though this place is probably always dark, given the ceiling.” Vance muttered as he enhanced the zoom on his helmet. None of his guns were equipped with selective-zoom optics, so he had to settle for a basic two-times view. Still, he could make out a few moving elements.
As the elevator continued to descend, night seemed to make itself known even down here which caused the various buildings around to respond in kind. A sense of amazement hit Vance as a nigh-uncountable amount of lights lit up with various colors and patterns on the structures they were attached to. A few revealed themselves to reach up high into the cavern that the compound - or at this point, full on town - was situated in, “skyscrapers” in a technical sense.
As the windows of the elevator shaft fell out of view once Vance and Ripper were deep enough, the platform slowed to a halt once it reached the base. The two now stood in front of a large, much more intricate door than the shutters of the topside “warehouse” they had found earlier. Above the large gate was a sort of camera, an eye of sorts letting whoever controlled it within the compound monitor who went out and who came in through the elevator.
Vance stared up at it, giving it a little wave. In a delayed, slightly comedic gesture, Ripper did the same. An open hand swiveling to-and-fro on its wrist joint.
“Do you think we need ID?” Vance spoke in a half-joking manner to the Titan standing beside him.
“... Likely.” Ripper answered.
“I should have a few digital copies of my Titan certifications, among other things on me. You?”
Ripper responded by pointing to the lower portion of her hull where her written designation was imprinted, “Alternatively.” she then pointed to the side of her hull, where the same writing was also located.
“Never change Ripper, never change.” Vance shook his head as he waited for the doors to open. It wouldn’t be the best idea to force-hack this one open.
So, the two just decided to wait. It took about another half hour before anything happened, really. But when it did, it was a sharp crackle in Vance’s ears, as a grey communications element appeared where it should've been a blue if someone like Ripper spoke to him over radio. In place of the mugshot was just a plain question mark.
Speaking over hazy static which quickly cleared itself up, the Major heard a plain male voice reply with definitely forced militaristic speech. Oddly relatable in a sense, “Requesting identification from unknown entities within elevator designation G-Q-W-R-A, one-two-four-nine.”
The Pilot looked up to his Titan, who gave a plain nod as she transmitted an encrypted text message which appeared where Vance’s minimap would’ve been. “ Picking up numerous unknown signatures on the other side of the gate. Likely security forces. Recommend negotiation… Employ honesty at your discretion. ”
“Major Vance Gardener… Marauder Corps, Special Recon Squadron.” Vance plainly replied. His own tone measured to a similar, disciplined degree, “I assume you can visually acquire the inside of the elevator. The… Machine , I am with is designated as Sierra-Foxtrot-Two-Zero-Three-One. Sh- It is an autonomous mech.” in some way, just calling Ripper a machine irked the Major.
“Uh… There aren’t any units registered in the Outpost with either designation. Nor the greater Ark as a whole.” the male voice replied, awaiting some kind of response.
“We aren’t part of it.” Vance began, noting a particular word. Ark . It seemed wherever he and Ripper were, the Ark wasn’t some macguffin-type deal of ammo for a planet-destroying weapon. Rather, a place, which he presumed had to be similar to this ‘ Outpost ’, the second keyword likely denoting that sprawling complex he and Ripper had observed on their descent down, “I’m not sure how to put this… But I guess we’re outsiders.”
“Uh, got it. Please hold. Yeah!-” there was a pause in communications as the line was abruptly terminated. After some tense silence, the voice returned with a tad bit of exasperation, “So many people are gonna grill me for this… Alright. Expect an armed escort of Nikkes and keep the safeties on your weapons.”
“Affirmative. Standing by.” Vance replied, quickly performing the last part.
“Just follow the escort and their instructions. I think we’ll need to have a much more in-person discussion to sort things out.” the man on the other end spoke as the doors of the elevator finally opened.
The low-light conditions of the cavern meant that Vance and Ripper weren’t treated to the screen-typical flash of blinding light which would’ve seeped through the cracks of the gates’ seams. Instead, they were greeted by a military staging area connected by a long road to the lit-up town-like complex in the distance. A childish element still clinging onto Vance’s soul felt that was arguably cooler. The Major had been through many things in his life, and seen many places, but this was wholly new.
As the Pilot and his Titan stepped forward, roughly a squad’s worth of armed infantry moved into view. Some stepped out from defensive positions, others had been waiting by the gates of the elevator while waiting for them to open. Their armors and kits varied between all of them, with one core trait they shared was that they were all women of sorts.
“Welcome to the Outpost, Major.” the male voice spoke again with a commanding aura to his voice. Static silence ensued, before he could be heard muttering, “ Nailed it. Never thought I’d do that, ever. ”
“Uh… You’re still on the air.” Vance tried to stifle a small chuckle, but his amusement was bleeding into his voice.
“Oh- Dangit-” the connection cut off for good, Vance’s HUD shifting to match that fact.
The Pilot let out a proper laugh at that moment, and noticed a few of the female infantry ahead of him shake their heads at the apparent antics of who Vance presumed was their commanding officer. The air in the room (elevator, cavern?) immediately went from tense to a degree of relaxed as Vance stepped out of the elevator with Ripper tailing behind. The Titan received a few stares, but a few awkward waves on her part got the formation moving properly to whatever was planned for her and her Pilot.
It certainly had to be better than what would've waited for them on the surface, at least these folk didn’t open fire on them without so much as a word like those topside machines. Vance, weighing the situation, already thought of a few precisely worded questions to allow him to get some answers about that, among others. At this rate, "negotiations" seemed to be rapidly approaching normal conversation.