Iron Empire

Two: Prototype

The Grendel attacked me almost immediately, weapons blazing. The mech's two-storey body was laughable in shape but advantageous from a tactical viewpoint. Its thick, bulbous body gave it heavy armour and a low center of gravity, and its weapons array was built directly into the center of its frame, making it harder to destroy. The tubby grey German mech fought less like its mythological namesake and more like a sumo wrestler—it was built to take a hit and remain standing. A single red light shone through its thick armour as it wobbled toward me, marking where its camera was hidden away.

The chunky Grendel was a tough enemy for my flimsy Regiment, especially because it was carrying both a rotary railgun and a powerful howitzer cannon. Fortunately, I had a trick or two up my sleeve.

An interchangeable weapons array had been the reason I had chosen to use a Regiment for my mission—though a Goliath would've been a better mech, the Regiment's mounted weapons were easily customizable. Most Regiment pilots used railguns or other standard-issue firearms, but I had modified my weaponry just for this occasion.

Two small boxes sat atop my mech's frame, in the exact spot where railguns had once been. Both swivelled open as I pressed my thumb down on the trigger. I opened fire with both rocket launchers.

High-velocity missiles crumpled hull plates and shredded armour with the speed of bullets. Big, explosive bullets.

The sturdy Grendel, to its credit, did manage to get a shot off with its howitzer before it crumpled. To my delight, the shot went wild and the shell rushed past me. As yet another command capsule soared into the clear blue sky, the crippled Grendel stumbled drunkenly. Because the pilot of the mech had ejected, taking his IRON chip with him, the mech had nothing to keep it balanced.

The Grendel swayed, shearing off the side of a building with a cacophonous crash as its legs gave out and gravity brought it down. The pilot would be back in another mech, but for now I had been given an opportunity. I broke away from the battle and sprinted toward the reactor.

To my dismay, there was a loud thump behind me. I sighed. I had no time to deal with another enemy I didn't want to fight.

An instant later my Regiment dissolved into a mess of alarms, sparks and shrieking metal. The next thing I knew I was safe in my command capsule, the rocket-powered pod soaring up and away from the battle.

The back of my neck burned, a sharp pinch that drove a needle into my brain and twisted. My ears rang.

"Gah," I spat, hands groping at the back of my neck. "Blast it..."

My hands found the smoking IRON chip and yanked it free from its mooring with a sharp tug. The tiny, thumbnail-sized ship had been overloaded by feedback from my Regiment's destruction. Though it was painful, the chip had ensured that it hadn't been my brain that was fried. This happened often with IRON chips—the feedback from a mech's destruction had a chance of activating the chip's fail-safe, shorting it out to protect the user.

I tossed the dead chip to the floor of my pod and tapped the side of my command capsule. A drawer slid open, insides lined with padded impact gel.

The shelf, within was mostly empty, save for a single remaining IRON chip.

I sighed as I slotted the last chip into the divot in my neck. I would have to ask for a resupply again. If this chip burned out, my mission was over.

The power plant below me seemed small through my capsule's window—even the massive mechs looked like ants. My thoughts drifted back to the battle. Who had taken me out? I had never lost a mech in combat so quickly.

A flash of red and gold caught my eye. I leaned forward in my seat, surveying my rapidly dwindling view of the battlefield.

Impossible.