Blood and buzzing
Iron, the deep rich smell of iron hit my nose first, the wetness on my skin came second, beyond that i found the smell of fire and its heat before i found the power to open my eyes under the assault of a pain in my head so strong i would of thought death had placed me into the crushing grip of an enemy pilot. in fact, it almost had.
I opened my eyes like wrenching open a rusted pair of sliding doors after the sounds of alarm brought me from my ideas of an afterlife, as if the company would ever let me have that. the cockpit was a mess, blood splattered on multiple surfaces like an impressionist painting from those bastards who can live safe on their floating cities and never knowing the weight of a gun in their hand. Its my blood, clearly as one of my eyes cant see nothing but blurry lights drowned in crimson as i peel my face off the cockpits ceiling before cutting my harness and dropping like a bag of rocks onto the new floor. I can barely remember anything at first as i fumble for some way to turn off the incessant klaxons, eventually i do as the flipped on-screen status readings tell me what i already knew, im basically fucked. shield generator busted, radio broken, most armour integrity at 60%, and im upside down and thrown into a building. The memories came back along side the status reports, drop 0.7 miles outside edge of the combat zone to cut into the backline of the enemy defence, then we were ambushed on drop, explosions, anti tank weapons, and their own mechs rushing us once the initial barrage finished. it wasn’t pretty, they ripped us apart, multiple going for one of us at a time, i was the last one, three small mechs brutalising mine, the rest finishing their kills, then suddenly, an impossibly bright flash and shock-wave that launched me so violently... one of us let of a core detonation.
that would explain why my mechs upside down... and not getting ripped apart by those runts... or under any kind of fire for that matter. I spent the next minuet or two making sure the limbs and central systems still work, they did, thank fuck. I turned on the optical systems as well as additional sensors to get a good idea of my predicament. almost stock straight, upside-down, swung into the back of a building from the knee, caught on an overpass. I swing the mechs knees over its centre line to topple back onto its front, having to prop my leg against the front of the cockpit to brace after having the straps before. After the loud, and no way discreet positioning, i move the mech to stand before doing what i can to get seated and stay strapped in, after which i quickly measure my surroundings. One thing grabs my attention as the mech's optical sensors scan, is that I've been notice, ants calling for their metal body guards.
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5 minuets, and its already a shit show, the massive blast got most of the runts that would of been equal to me in pairs or more, but it kicked the damn hornets nest, all that the call-out said is that the mechs are still alive, not how many, not how operational, just that not all are dead, now units from across the entire damn city are converging on my position, not to mention the swarm of fleshies that came running into the fallout zone. i doubt they'd survive even if my gun didn’t reduce them only as paste and memories, i know i wont survive, blast zone, fallout covered metal, rips and tares in the metal that now i can see slivers of the sky inside my metal coffin. not to mention im hiding on the side of the blast pit like its a trench wall as these fuckers are filling the sky and ground with lead and fire.
at least with so many of these bastards here the front line has an easier time pushing forward, the mission was a success technically... maybe completely..? we were due for retirement... those fuckers, cant let their toys go and have a slow death, But what’s the point now, just give up and die? let them rip me out of here and then what, years as a POW? put in front of a court of law if they win? id probably end up executed anyway. no, ill take these bastards with me, give some revenge to the fallen, and let the farm boys and split lovers on the frontlines finish their push.
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out of ammo, out of blood, out of options, the mech is riddled with enough bullets to make it twice heavier then it should be, and enough holes to be mistaken for Swiss cheese, its a miracle it can stand, miracle i can make it stand with how much of my blood has been replaced with adreno-stims and synth blood packs. I know that time is coming, time to meet my squad, my friends, training buddies, family, in that far away land, yet its so close i can hear them, strange how death does that, through all the radio chatter, from my side and theirs, yelling about mech fighters, begs for me to run to the frontline for medical and resupply with the little they have, offerings for their metal god, saviour in steel who dropped from the sky. yet i can hear the soft whisper of the dead clearer then any mortal yell, saying to rise, bring the fear back into the hearts of the enemy, and bring salvation to those damned to slow deaths from the fallout. Eventually, i listen to the dead and step from my cover. 4 more blood drenched minuets go by, guns ripped from the dead scream as i force out the last of their life as the last of mine leaks out the dozens of graces, cuts, and holes, my blood turned a transparent white as synth-blood and adrenaline are the only thing my failing heart is pumping. The mech falls, the last grazes of small arms fire tipping the scales enough to tip the mech, the fall hurts, slamming against the broken metal and glass of the front panel, optical censors all broken except one, they shoot it out, for a fleeting moment im basked in the static of the optical array, the smog covered sky letting barely any light through, let alone the gaps in the mech, only thing lighting the outside is the continued small arms fire, and the raging inferno left in my wake. i hear them climbing on my mech, my mech, the little bit of myself i let into this forsaken galaxy, and they're stomping and climbing on it, ripping it apart with saws and guns. I force the dying behemoth to spend the last of its fuel, gathering in the core like my squad mate before me did. they're trying to saw into the cockpit now, i see guns held through the small rips, they're either gonna shoot me on site or pull my broken body out. i can feel myself slipping away, they wont even get my on a transport ship, or to the ground before im dead anyway, but that doesn’t matter, i knew how i was gonna die when i committed to this forsaken last push, in shining, irradiated, glory.
they rip off the face of my mech, the fire coating my pale, bloody form in its violent orange, flashlights follow a second after, strapped to the underbarrel of their guns, flowing over me like wasps, my eyes slide up to the last remaining screen "core det. ready." I click the detonator in my hand, the movment causing the misled fools to fire their guns, ripping me apart, tearing me in two, then three then four, and then the blinding light, then its over.
