We Are One

Prologue

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHITE SHITE SHIT SHITSSS!!!!!!!!!

A Pilot, in lightweight olive and hex blue fabricated armor, broke through a window of the bland polished white building as explosions rocked the place, sending loose shelves and items tumbling to the ground. He rolled and pulled out his RE-45, lining the sights up with his sleek crescent helmet visor and pulled the trigger on the multitude of rounded red mechanical spiders. The fury of bullets ripping into them and They emitted a high pitched hiss before exploding in a fury of fire and smoke leaving nothing but scrap metal and circular scorch marks, staining the once perfect white surface. He fell back onto the cold almost marble-like floor, completely exhausted. "Holy shit" He mumbled breathlessly.

He reloaded his secondary and checked his munitions. He shuffled through his pouches that sat strung to his hip, carrying various items, ammo, provisions and grenades. "I fucking hate ticks" he spat as he stood up and surveyed the room. He quickly switched weapons and drew his R-101 off his back. "Alright, 20 more hostiles left, 12 Spectres, 5 grunts, and 3 titans..." He grumbled not very eager to fight three war machines that could crush him in an instant. Taking in his surroundings he quickly ran to the front entrance and gingerly peaked out the door frame on the road. Broken down cars, cargo containers and other wreckage littered the darkened road. Even with all the light, the road seemed to soak it all up into a void.

Clear

He walked out, gun raised to make sure nothing snuck up on him. Realizing the area was secure he turned to the balcony the house had. He jumped up and with the help of his jumpkit, double jumped to make sure he made it. He vaulted over the railing and pulled out his third weapon. A DMR sniper rifle.

As he aimed down sights narrowed at one of the white corridors that the road led to, his comms came to life. Static filled his ear till a voice spoke, then the connection became crystal.

"Your titan is ready, Pilot"
Spoke the familiar monotone voice of his commanding officer. Captain Silas. Turning on his mic he put a hand to his comm unit. "How much time left Captain?" He asked and the buzz of static resumed. "Not enough, you need to find them, not let them find you, that will take too long. I told you to add an Anti-Titan weapon to your load out, not a sniper." He sighed in a disappointed breath. The Pilot scoffed. "I don't plan on using one, my allies have a few." He smirked under his helmet and put the DMR on his right shoulder. "Allies? You're alone!" The Captain shouted. "The Spectres don't know that." He quickly shut off his comms before the captain could voice his disapproval.

While it was a crazy plan, it was a good one if it worked. High risk high reward. Just the way he liked it

He drew his RE-45 and looked down the aisle of the balcony. A giant blue and orange pixelated half wall standing on stilts linked to another section of the area, away from the buildings and towards a giant pit and small tight corridors.

Drawing a deep breath he sprinted forward. He jumped onto the fence and kicked off of it, the jumpkit helping him soar through the air. He slid on a building roof and jumped to the pixelated wall. Keeping a hand on the wall for balance he kept running with his automatic pistol out in the other in case of threats. He was right for that.

On the other end of the platform, inside one of the tight corridors; grunts were walking around with their guns raised. Unfortunately they didn't see the pilot until it was too late, their training couldn't have prepared them for this.

A flurry of bullets from the pistol tore into a group of three, their two comrades turned to see what was happening as the bodies hit the floor. The Pilot leapt off the wall and threw a pulse blade into the throat of one, the blade pulsed and every living hostile in the area was marked in an orange outline, only the one grunt. As the poor grunt clutched his garbling blood spraying throat, the other man tried to punch the closing Pilot. Tried. The pilot slid under him and grabbed his arm and brought his knee to the bottom of the man's elbow, snapping it with a satisfying crunch, followed by the man's blood curdling screams. The Pilot slung the broken arm over their shoulder and swung the man over his own body and slammed him into the ground. He writhed in pure agony and was crying for help through the radio. The pilot kicked away his hand from the radio and popped him in the head once with the pistol, ending his screams indefinitely.