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[Horatiowolf]

His ears were ringing and the shards of broken glass and metal were pushing from his wounded leg. The taste of blood and misting sweat filled the cockpit and overpowered his senses. The warmth the cold and the smoke filled his lungs and made him gasp. The sun was warm, too warm, and too bright. It shouldn’t have been there.


He pulled back on the control stick feeling his hunchback righting itself on the rocky terrain he could feel the power rolling through him as the smoke wafted slowly from his AC20 like the smoke from a crushed cigarette. The crumpled heap lay at his feet and he felt that old familiar feeling. That rush of adrenalin and power and strength and worry and fear and every emotion at once fighting for control of his body. His mind rolled and his senses reeled. He turned slowly. He heard the sound as the scraping of his damaged mech pulling at its half-torn actuators screamed at him. Then the sound changed, like a wave pushing ahead of something. There was pain and the emotions were gone.


And the smaller mech pulled around him pushing hard and pulling at its reigns like an angry horse. His mech pulled around, and unleashed another volley. The shot went wide, flowed over top, struck the hill, and a hot pillar of dust rose up from the ground. He cursed and pushed his mech back. He could feel it strain, feel it scream. The Jenner was coming around. Its head was coming into his crosshairs and he breathed out. The AC20 fired and ripped through the air. The explosion was demurred, there was blood there was broken metal and the mech fell. The leg gave out without controls and the mech crumpled over a rock.


And he turned his head to the side, and he could see the missing part of his cockpit. The entire side had been torn open from the Atlas’ Gauss rifle. And he squinted at the sun one last time as the lasers vaporised him and he couldn’t feel the pain anymore.