The White Storm shot forwards, its body suddenly shovelling snow to the sides as it took off. The advantage Porter had, the one they were relying on heavily, was in his speed. With the advance warnings going off around Razul, he needed to break through front line defences as fast as possible so he could disrupt the rest of the forces there. Once he had done that, the rest of the team could divide and begin their own skirmishes.
There was one specific target that Porter was searching for: General Artemis. He was listed as the head of defence in Razul, only recently appointed in correlation with Irina's arrival there, and was thus the biggest player in combat. With him out of the way, the rest would be easy.
Porter had to dodge a barrage of bullets as turrets burst up from the snow, mounted guns swivelling to take aim at his battlesuit. This had been anticipated, and was certainly not designed to realistically combat an attack from Goliaths. The turrets were largely for ground troops and dissuasion, and so Porter wasn't deeply concerned with them. He had picked up enough speed now that he was practically gliding over the snow, and he leaned to one side side, letting his blade trail beside him, slicing through one of the emplacements with ease.
Even though their Goliaths were of Enian design, they were no longer marked with any insignias, and Razul wasn't expecting an arrival of warmachines. Defence systems were on high alert because of the status of the prisoner being held there, on top of the war with the Jahari, who could appear at any time without warning. Spotlights were rising up out of the military base as the few pilots there scrambled to their stations. They wouldn't both with soldiers or tanks at this point; both sides of this fight knew that Goliaths were going to have to take out Goliaths.
"Move in on my mark then." Porter grit his teeth, his fingers squeezing tighter on his controls as he gave the orders. This was a different feeling to how it had been before when he had been a pilot. There had been a release, a trance that he could enter before combat. This was all thinking and skill right now, and it was already taking a toll on his body, twisting up his stomach and tightening his muscles. But he pressed onwards, driving the White Storm forwards faster.
Suddenly, Porter disappeared, an electric surge shooting across the ground as a bolt of lightning forked into the opposing base. Ardwen watched from a distance, shaking his head in wonder. That was faster than ever before, he thought as he observed the first signs of their training. "That's our signal people," Ardwen said, his words travelling to each other member of the team. Records from how general Artemis had fought in the past indicated he liked to spread his forces and collapse on targets, relying on the force of the group, rather than the skills of the pilots. Ardwen, in all instances, ran on a different strategy, hopefully one that could counter Artemis.
The many Goliaths of the group took off, leaping over the edge into the valley. A barrage of rockets were launched from Riya's suit, twisting through the air before dropping onto the numerous turrets, lighting up the white landscape with multiple hues of orange and red, leaving nothing but black, smoking husks across the area. Her battlesuit smashed into the ground, sending out powder in every direction as her massive frame touched down.
Nami hovered above her, her jump extended by her wings and propulsion, letting her float through the air. In stark contrast to the grace of her movements, her face was serious within the cockpit, and she quickly pulled out her rifle, computer systems picking out targets immediately. She fired off a single bullet, and the ballistic whizzed through the cold air, cutting into the base. It grazed across the arm of a Goliath, just as the pilot was taking control and could only just move to the side. Nami smiled in her machine. Gretta had given her device significant internal upgrades, and a display immediately popped up on one of her viewscreens, indicating the specific level of damage she had done to her opponent. All of it was part of her plan.
* * * * *
Raul was already at the edge of the base, the only one among them who had gone a separate way. His job was to attempt an assassination of one of the generals as soon as possible, General Reaver. If both, or at least one of the general could be taken out right away, the victory could be secured. The ninja felt his own heartbeat in his chest as he moved, and he had to still it with a moment of focused breathing. He checked over his myriad weapons that were hidden across his machine, making sure they were all in order and accounted for. This was not the time for a malfunction, and he needed to reassure himself that everything would be fine.
He had come a long way since his first engagement, when he had hesitated in his kill and nearly cost the team their lives. This would be different though, and would be his moment to redeem himself. He had slaughtered Bahari in combat, watching those around him die. He could execute someone now, he was certain of it. Porter had given instructions already to attempt to disable the enemy, and to only kill if necessary, but Raul was ready for whatever it took. Chase's blood was still on his hands, in his mind, and he had to pay that back to his fallen friend.
"You will never kill me if you can't surprise me." The voice crackled through Raul's cockpit, distorted by a program the other pilot possessed in his Goliath. Raul ducked down, rolling forwards as his opponent swiped the air where he had once stood.
"General Reaver."
"Raul."
The two took a moment to acknowledge each other while Raul stood back up and turned to face his enemy. Reaver was operating a thin Goliath, a Mongoose-class machine similar to Sigmeund's. Its triangular face was partially hidden by a tattered, brown scarf that wrapped around the battlesuit's neck and billowed behind it in the northern winds. The rest of the lean warmachine seemed designed to move, composed of lightweight portions painted white, letting Reaver blend in slightly with his snowy surroundings. Each hand of the Goliath was made up of fingers tipped with pointed claws, designed to rip through enemies up close; it had been a strike from one of those Raul had just dodged, and his chest tightened for a moment when he saw them.
Strapped to the side of Reaver was a lengthy katana, kept in its scabbard still. The battlesuit's six eyes, three on either of its head, stared at Raul with great patience. "The Ghost is ready to take your skull," Reaver stated from his cockpit, referring to the name of his own warmachine. It was an accurate description both of the Goliath, and of its owner. Not many people knew what Reaver looked like, as he was often wearing several layers of coats on his body, with his face wrapped in cloth, leaving only two eyes to watch the world.
Raul had known of Reaver for a long time. It had been Reaver who had picked Raul out of the orphanage at a young age, and Reaver who had personally trained the boy when he was still a child, before finally sending him to the academy. At that time, Reaver had just been a major, not the general he was now, but his skills as an assassin had been whispered in hallways and around tables even then. He was known for his efficiency and speed, in and out of intense combat areas before his enemy knew what had happened. Many attributed it to his Artisan parents, refugees who had fled their country and settled in the Enian Federation, but Raul knew more about Reaver than most.
When Reaver had first taken on Raul, had trained him, it had not just been his skills that Reaver had tried to pass on to Raul. The general had no heart, had no empathy or feelings to speak of, and was ruthlessly effective because of it. An accident as a child had left his face beaten and scarred, and a small part of his brain had been damaged, leaving him with almost no emotion. Reaver had attempted to scrub feeling from Raul as well when he had taught the youth, but it had never been completely successful.
"I'm surprised you even remember me." A blade slid out of the top of the Blue Blur's right wrist. Raul knew that Reaver cared very little for chatter and could only be distracted for so long before he would strike. Raul had to be prepared for anything and everything at this point, and he had always known, since choosing to take out Reaver instead of Artemis, that it would come to this eventually. "I thought you didn't care for anyone in the world."
The Ghost lunged forwards, pretending to go for another swing at Raul's face before Reaver twisted and tried for a low blow at Raul's legs. The young pilot was already there though, the flat of his blade deflecting the attack while Raul leaped over his enemy, spinning and whipping down a small blade. But Reaver had already disappeared, and Raul's tiny weapon thudded into the snow. "I remember people, Raul. I do not care for them, but I will always remember them. I remember each person I ever killed, and each one I ever trained. Many of them are one in the same. You, for example, will be added to a growing list."
It was strange to listen to the general, as his voice contained no inflections or tone. His words had a hollow feeling to them because they lacked emotion, either positive or negative. Raul didn't flinch though, experienced in dealing with his former master. "I'm not here for your head, Reaver. I'm just here to help a friend out." Raul rolled to the side as Reaver sprung out behind him, avoiding another blow from the claws. He knew that this was only a trial period for the general, a time when he would test his opponent and find their weakness, while attempting to catch them off guard with sudden attacks.
The Blue Blur was equipped to combat the Ghost though, designed to respond to Raul's commands in an instant while maintaining its balance. He would need to be at the top of his game in order to just survive against Reaver, let alone defeat him. He withdrew the massive shuriken on his back, holding it to his side while he awaited Reaver's next attack. He was confident he knew all of his former master's techniques and moves, and he would be able to deflect these blows.
Almost on cue, Reaver lunged forwards once more from behind Raul. The shuriken flew backwards though, grinding against the edges of the claws and knocking the attack aside. Raul spun around, driving his small wrist-blade forwards, but the Ghost had already dashed away. Reaver stood up once more, the multiple eyes on his battlesuit examining Raul in detail.
"Your movements are different, Raul. You have changed your style from what I taught you. It is no longer a derivative."
"I never wanted to be a derivative." Raul threw his shuriken forwards, the massive weapon spinning through the air before cutting a swathe through the snow. Reaver didn't move to dodge it though, his hand shooting out in front of him. The general used the sharp tips of his fingers, perfectly timed, to pinch one end of the shuriken, halting it immediately. "I want to be my own person. That's why I don't learn from you anymore." Raul crashed into Reaver, having followed up his weapon with a kick of his own. He bounced off the Ghost before his opponent could retaliate, grabbing his shuriken as he did.
The general rose up almost immediately after being knocked to the ground, his machine straightening out. It looked like he had taken almost no damage from the strike, and Raul knew he hadn't. When in combat, Reaver was well known for his ability to absorb strikes and collapse his body in time with his opponent's attacks, letting him appear to be harmed when in reality, he was falling before they touched him. "Your attempts to take advantage of the knowledge you possess," Reaver said, voice still flat, "will not be enough to win. Many have tried such a path, and I will always take account of them taking account of me. It is an infinite loop of predicting the next move, and I will always come out the victor."
"As I said," Raul reiterated, panting a little as he felt the exertion spreading across his body, "I am not a derivative of you."
* * * * *
Porter shot into the centre of the military base. He collided with the ground, releasing a resonating boom of thunder as his movements suddenly stopped. He had landed in the landing strip, a flat zone in the middle of the base where the Goliaths were held and treated.
However, there was only a single Goliath remaining on the strip, the rest having scrambled to fight off the other students. Porter knew who would have remained, and he had banked on it. The files he had read on General Artemis always mentioned in them somewhere that he was extremely proud, often to a fault, and that he would readily accept the challenge of any single warrior who dared take him on. By bolting into his presence, Porter had triggered the man's desire to prove his worth in a duel. And that was how Porter wanted it.
"So, you've come to free her have you?" The voice was tough, but also very feminine, with a slightly higher pitch to it. Porter was about to respond, was ready to respond, but he stopped, mouth agape, floundering instead of speaking. He immediately began flipping through the documents once more, trying to make sure he had read everything right. There had always been an assumption that Artemis was a man, but, as Porter looked over the notes, nowhere had it technically mentioned their gender.
It wasn't a major issue, or that big of a shock. There were plenty of women who were pilots, many of them generals, and almost as many women in the army as men. It just threw Porter off a bit because he had been prepared for a male. That, and he had not actually ever fought a female before, not even in sparring. Chase had always had first call on fighting Porter, and since then he had never really gone toe-to-toe with a woman.
Porter took in a deep breath, trying to suck in his confusion. There was nothing different about fighting a girl or a guy, nothing at all...it just wasn't what he was prepared for. Before he could think any further, there was a fist in his chest, and he was flung backwards with the force of the blow, the White Storm automatically doing its best to stabilize him and keep his balance.
"I asked you a question," Artemis barked. The razor edges of her Zephyr-class battlesuit reflected her straightforward personality; all of the lines on the machine seemed to draw towards the middle of the chest, which pointed forwards slightly to give the appearance of an arrowhead. It was almost like looking at the front of a train approaching, and Porter had let his guard down for too long against the general. "By the will of the Archer, you will not release her this day."
Information on the Goliath was already flying across some of Porter's viewscreens. The Archer, the name of Artemis' craft, had a prolific history of being upfront and aggressive, quickly closing gaps to get into the opponent's face. But it did have a weakness, one that Porter had noticed from old footage he had watched on the flight over, and that was how he planned to win over the general.
"Irina should not be a prisoner in her own country," Porter stated, trying his best to keep his voice from wavering. He needed to maintain an aura of strength during this fight, both to intimidate his opponent, and to reinforce his own confidence. "We will liberate her from your grasp and help her see freedom once more."
"No you won't." Artemis cut the exchange short, pulling out a sawed-off shotgun. She quickly fired off a round, and Porter had to dive behind the cover of a warehouse to dodge the small hail of shrapnel that flew past him. He had never seen a weapon like that before, outside of in the videos, and still wasn't exactly sure how he would get around it. Artemis had modified her gun in many ways, creating some sort of strange gun that fired close range ballistics that could do extreme damage to an opponent...if it connected. The weapon unleashed a barrage from shells that contained an assortment of trash: shrapnel, scrap metal, smaller ammunition, anything really. Artemis was known for being curt and straightforward, and for being dangerously reckless when it came to loading her shotgun.
There was a strategy that the general would use though, one both her and Porter were well aware of. Her goal was always to charge forwards, to get as close as possible as fast as possible, and then she would unload with her weapon, trying to cripple her enemy at the very least. They both also knew that Porter wouldn't be able to take more than a single blast from the gun. Almost nobody ever did. The close proximity, coupled with the bizarre ammunition, would shred the White Storm, either disabling enough of it to let her finish him off, or killing him outright, especially because Artemis had a propensity for aiming at the cockpit.
Porter felt the crackle in his fingertips as blue electricity surged around the White Storm. Small bolts of lightning leaped off of his battlesuit, jumping between plates in his armour. Speed was going to be his number one weapon against Artemis, but not just any kind of pure speed. Lateral movement was going to be his biggest strength. Artemis was incredibly powerful when it came to moving in a straight line, especially forwards. It was quite possible she could exceed Porter. But that was it. If she wanted to shift her movements, or apply the same burst of speed side-to-side, she fell off, leaving her open. For Porter, it would now be a game of survival until he could take a shot at her.
"You can't just sit in hiding." Artemis laughed as she rounded the corner of the warehouse, standing behind Porter. She never hesitated in squeezing her trigger to execute the young pilot, her shotgun belching out shells into the back of the White Storm.
But the bullets passed straight through, blasting a chunk out of the wall of the warehouse instead. Porter's afterimage faded away slowly, leaving a frustrated Artemis behind. "So you're a tricky little worm." The general ground her teeth into the communication network, the speakers crackling in Porter's cockpit. "But keep in mind you are still just a worm, no matter how quick you are. No worm will kill a...kill a..." Artemis paused for a moment on her metaphor, unable to come up with a threatening animal that also ate worms.
Porter felt his chest heaving as he listened to Artemis rambling about worms. That had been far too close that time. He needed to stop with all of this thinking so he could just focus on fighting and winning. She had nearly snuck up on him, and that would've ended it in an instant. Artemis was a strange opponent to face, known as the Quickdraw General, because of how ruthless she was in her movements. There was never a pause, and there was no showmanship to her tactics. From everything Porter had read, she used to be a struggling private, barely making it to army and constantly fighting to earn her spot in a squad. She had developed her unique attributes through this hardship, preferring to quickly dispatch of an opponent with ugly moves, rather than grace or technique. For her, winning was always a barometer of skill.
A small orb hovered near Porter's head, and he barely noticed it before he had to dodge another shotgun blast from above. Artemis had tried to leap over him and strike him with a fly-by shooting, but the ball had given it away. When Porter looked up, the sphere was still there, floating through the air, moving with him wherever it went. It took him and his computers a moment before he recognized the orb as a creation of chi. This seemed to be the skill Artemis possessed: she could track her enemies through some sort of astral projection. Since the sphere was not mechanical in nature, it could not be destroyed or interfered with, and it gave Artemis the ability to watch her foe as they moved about.
The general was suddenly in front of Porter again, her gun reloaded and ready to fire. She grinned in her cockpit, and Porter could feel it through their warmachines. He had to move quickly, watching time slow down as his blade rushed to meet her gun, knocking it aside just before it fired. A few stray pieces of shrapnel scratched along the side of the White Storm, but nothing terrible was done, and Porter hopped backwards, trying to keep his distance from his speedy adversary.
This is going to be a bit harder than I imagined...