Waltz of the Steel Knights (Verus)

[Nemesis]

Macross Galaxy Bridge
January 2nd, 2881

Well that could have gone better.



The scent of warm coffee wafted up to meet Captain Felix Coda, as he surveyed the Galaxy's operations and reflected on the sorry state of "Operation Sauroter". The League had turned out to leave much to be desired with how miserably their offensive had failed - and he couldn't say he would miss either them, or that insufferable auditor snooping around their premises.

...Not that there was, admittedly, much for him to do during a Fold. Chances were good that if there was an accident, it wasn't something he could reasonably do anything about, and that by the time any of them realized there was an accident, they would all be dead.

This thought gave him some small comfort, as he dunked a grayish circle of what the Galaxy's food processors vaguely approximated to be a doughnut into his coffee, signaling the official start of his day.



"How much longer until we reach out destination, Captain?"

With an inner groan, he paused in mid bite, and affixed his best, most obliging smile as he pivoted to the figure clad in what he could best describe as plastic-wrap standing behind him.

"Oh, Miss Techne. Good Morning to you as well."

Silence greeted him, and he cleared his throat, perhaps attempting to dislodge the lump of flour and grease now halfway down his windpipe.

"Shouldn't be too much longer. We're currently passing through the outskirts of Joker as we speak. Fold Technology is really-"

"Good. I must hasten to his Excellency's side to deliver my report on the Terrans."

Coda opened his mouth - and shut it again, perhaps deciding now was not the best time.

Arguing with a Fatima on a mission, he had quickly learned, was only asking for a tongue lashing. Far be it from he to enrage his future overlord... especially given the size of the checks he was writing on their behalf.

An alarm bleeped at them from overhead, and Coda paused in mid-sip to squint uncertainly.

"What is that noise?"

"The... proximity alarm." He said slowly, as his eyes went to the instrument readouts.

"Then we are not alone?"

"No, no... We're in fold space. There's nothing for us to hit here. It's physically impossible. It must be some sort of short circuit somewhere-"

BANG!

A shockwave ran through the ship, causing the two to stagger, grasping onto whatever was nearest for dear life.

"What the Hell?"

A voice from one of the many cyborg operators aboard rose in response to Coda's query.

"We're hit. Something impacted the forward hangar, bay 18."

The Captain, wide-eyed, exchanged glances with Techne. He could practically sense her looking down her nose at him, and scowled.

He really hated Mondays.

"Begin emergency fold-out! Get me a visual!"

The monitor flickered, and a vague shape formed - hardly the best quality, but a gleaming figure, hurtling through the outer doors at breakneck speed, little more than a blur. Coda shook his head, uncertain... but a low chuckle escaped the Fatima beside him. Yes, she thought. Now it all made sense.

"It's him...!"

Techne hissed, her whole body shaking with excitement. Truly, there was a God-

And He was on the side of justice.

"We finally found you...! KNIGHT OF GOLD!"

 

[Fenrir367]

In the vast expanse of the cosmos, their grand mission had turned out to be an epic disappointment, a true voyage into futility. Sponsored by the Galaxy itself, the League had crumbled before the relentless onslaught of the Jovians, rendering Acacia's presence seemingly superfluous. If truth be told, Techne could have single-handedly orchestrated the entire campaign. Yet, such revelations often arrived too late to be of consequence.

The initial allure of their journey had been undeniable—the prospect of venturing into a far-flung system to witness the marvels and oddities of less technologically advanced civilizations had held a certain fascination. However, now, as the curtains fell on their brief odyssey and the starship charted its course homeward, Acacia found herself pondering the gravity of her own aspirations as a Knight. The promise of thrilling adventures had all but dimmed.

She walked alongside Techne, serving as her ever-stalwart guard, entering the bridge. While ostensibly that of bodyguards, Acacia could understand the beleaguered Captain Coda. He bore the weight of an alliance with the enigmatic Jokerians, akin to standing defiantly against an ever-encroaching avalanche.

"Good morning, Capt'n,"

Acacia greeted Coda, sensing the immense pressure he must be under, dealing with the enigmatic Jokerians. It felt like standing next to a perilous mountain, perpetually on the verge of collapse.

"Captain, do not judge Techne too harshly, she is simply resolute in her purpose. We are deeply indebted to your valiant efforts in this expedition. I shall speak with the Emperor, advocate for continued collaboration."

Her words, as far as he could tell, resonated with empathy as Acacia placed a reassuring hand on the Captain's shoulder. The bridge's atmosphere had turned tense, just as she prepared to continue. Alarms blared, jolting her to attention.

"Just what?"

It defied logic. According to all they knew of Fold technology, nothing should have breached their formidable defenses. This was a disturbance of cosmic proportions.

Techne was the first to identify it—the elusive Knight of Gold, their primary objective. As the dust settled, Acacia relaxed a bit, folding her arms thoughtfully. She whistled in surprise at the sudden appearance.

"Who would've imagined he'd come to us?"

Acacia's enthusiasm paled in comparison to Techne's unwavering excitement, yet she remained undeniably intrigued by this celestial twist.

"I suppose it's our time to shine, isn't it?"

With a nonchalant shrug, she pivoted and strode purposefully towards the exit.

"Mistilteinn, Lævatein, it's time to embark."

Summoning her loyal Fatima to her side, Acacia ventured forth toward the hangar, ready to embrace the impending clash.

 

[Nemesis]

Coda seemed pleased at Acacia's words, and at her touch, he gave a grateful nod before seeing her off, saying as he did:

"We will do all we can to support you, Lady Acacia. Please be assured."

"Beginning emergency fold out."

Hurriedly, the Captain made his way to his chair and buckled himself in. This, his gut sense said, was going to be a rough one. The Fatima didn't both, instead striding confidently after the Headliner with the doll-like grace of one that wouldn't be concerned even if the ship burst into flames.

He checked himself on that last one. It was still too possible. Then again, they could always land somewhere safe, pleasant even.

As the bridge cameras activated, displaying the world before them - he silently cursed his rotten luck.

Grey, fume-colored skies. Towers of spiraling magma-forges. Bolts of thunder ripping through the air, arcs of brilliant plasma that tore gaping holes in the ashen mountaintops, all of it - all of it - illuminated by the rivers of rushing magma below.

A forge-planet on the outskirts of Joker, no doubt. One that kept the armories of the Empire full, when it wasn't plotting yet another doomed insurrection.



He barely had time to consider this, however, before the flank of the Galaxy collided with one of the sprawling mountaintops. Gritting his teeth, he felt the ship pitch-

"All hands, brace for impact!"

---

"How could you do that? Just... abandon them like that?"

How long had they drifted in the dark?

It felt like both an eternity, and yet only moments, as the Knight of Gold lingered "between places". Cold sweat formed on Raines' forehead, as the voice of Tsukuyomi echoed through his skull. Inviolate. Authoritarian. At once both gentle and unyielding. The very picture of rulership few, if ever, could hope to match.

"I extracted us from a situation where we were being exploited. I humored you for as long as I could., and in the end you still turned to me to avoid the consequences of your actions, did you not?"

He could only glower in silence. That was the thing he hated most about him. Always right. All the time. You could never hide anything from yourself.

"Raines. I am only doing what's best for you."

"Like you did for Joker, right?"

A clumsy counterswing, and he knew it. The reply was immediate:

"Yes. And I would do it again, without a single moment of hesitation in my mind."

"Then why? Why am I here? Why do I exist?"

He wanted to explode at him. To drive his fist into the smug, serene face - but it would be akin to punching his own reflection in a pool. His only reward would be ripples.

Tsukuyomi paused, as if giving consideration to the question.

"...I am not as all knowing as I appear, Raines. If I overstepped my bounds, I apologize. You are capable of finding the answer I cannot."

"Then let me find it." Insisted Raines, heavily.

"My way."

---

Awake.

In the distance, he heard an enormous bang. Like God had dropped a plate, or perhaps a brick from some obscene height to the ashen planet below, just to see what would happen.

Raines eyes slammed open like a pair of window blinds yanked down by a toddler. An unfamiliar sky met his eyes - one black and full of rolling clouds. He tried to piece together his memories with a groan as he rose, sloughing off his blanket. He could already hear Nia hard at work as he stumbled down into the Knight of Gold's cockpit.

"What happened...?" He asked, blearily.

"We hit something!" Said Nia, the sound of her typing filling the air, a staccato clack-clack-clack-a-lack as she expertly brought KOG back to life under her fingertips.

"In warp space?"

"Yes! I think it was that ship!"

Slipping the helmet on over his head, he let his vision adjust... and slowly craned his head up at the smoking Galaxy. It was all he could to to avoid his eyes practically bugging out of their sockets at the sheer size of the thing. It must be a Macross class, he thought - but what would it be doing all the way out here?

The Knight of Gold dropped down from its perch, and set off in the direction of the vessel.

There was, of course, only one way to find out...

 

[Fenrir367]

Zarathrustra emerged from the abyss of the Galaxy's hangar, a macabre dance manifesting in its celestial wake. Its emergence was not a mere arrival; it was a haunting revelation, a ritualistic descent into the theater of despair. The hangar's maw birthed the slender silhouette, an ethereal ballet that resonated with an otherworldly grace and an unrelenting sense of foreboding.

The machine's form, a fusion of beauty and malevolence, draped the battlefield in an inescapable shroud of hopelessness. The Zarathustra, with every line etched upon its frame, hinted at a dark majesty, an entity not of this realm but a harbinger from realms beyond. As it advanced, its presence echoed with the desolation of an angel of doom, a celestial being cast down to preside over the unfolding tragedy.

Within the vice-like grip of its right arm lay the Plasma Flame Launcher, an instrument of cosmic judgment. Its mere presence projected an aura of death that transcended the tangible, sending shivers through the very fabric of the cosmos. The ethereal flames it held seemed to flicker with the souls of the fallen, a spectral dance that whispered of an inevitable fate awaiting those who dared cross its path.

Witnessing Zarathustra in motion was akin to glimpsing the embodiment of despair, an entity weaving a symphony of destruction with every step, a dire ballet that left an indelible mark on the tapestry of existence. It was an angelic harbinger of doom, a celestial ballet that unfolded with a tone of hopelessness and despair, its every movement a tragic verse etched into the cosmic chronicle.

Before the Galaxy made its descent, the Gothicmade leaped gracefully from the ship, landing with a thunderous crash on the side of a nearby mountain. The volcanic mass crumbled beneath its weight as the machine descended, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

"Mistilteinn, Laevatein, are you ready?"

Acacia's voice echoed within the cockpit of the Gothicmade, her eyes scanning the complex array of systems before her. The anticipation of her first combat sortie heightened her senses, a mix of nervous excitement and focused determination.

"Let's crush his guts."

"Ready with you."

Confidence resonated in their voices as they synchronized with the intricate machinery of Zarathustra, a feat even the most advanced Fatima would find daunting.

Blue and red particles cascaded from the rear of the machine, the Harmonic engine humming with operational efficiency. Acacia directed her Fatima companions with precision.

"Air barrier deployed. Laevatein, handle the Launcher output. Keep it controlled, but let’s give him a wake-up call. We'll make the first strike. Mistilteinn, I'll leave stabilization to you."

Acacia's orders flowed seamlessly to her companions, the Zarathustra responding to her every command. The oversized launcher raised, taking aim at the spot where the elusive Knight of Gold had last been seen.

"Ensure the Air Barrier covers the Galaxy's direction as well."

"Barrier at ideal output, ready whenever!"

"Launcher output set for 30%, estimated range: 60 kilometers, expected collateral damage: minimal."

"It should be good enough."

A satisfied smile played on Acacia's lips as she made final preparations for the impending blast.

"Coda Captain, you'd best tell your crew to shield their eyes; it might get a bit bright."

A warning echoed through the communication channels, a prelude to the cosmic symphony about to unfold.

"Plasma Buster Launcher, fire!"

The trigger pulled, the universe held its breath.

...

The celestial dance of Zarathustra escalated into an apocalyptic crescendo as the Plasma Flame Launcher, clutched with grim determination in its right arm, unleashed a torrent of divine fury. The very air quivered with anticipation as the ethereal flames, an infernal baptism of destruction, roared to life. It was as if the sword of judgment, long prophesied in ancient texts, had been unsheathed, striking the land with an awe-inspiring force.

The heavens themselves seemed to hold their breath as the Plasma Buster Launcher, a harbinger of cosmic retribution, seemed to harness the raw energy of a dying star. In that fleeting moment before release, the atmosphere became charged with an otherworldly tension, and then, with a shuddering roar, the weapon discharged its celestial wrath.

The blast was cataclysmic, a luminous cascade of energy that tore through the very fabric of reality. Lightning arced outward from the Buster Launcher, leaving trails of divine illumination in its wake. The shockwaves reverberated across the planet, resonating with the ominous cry of a dying star, as if the cosmos itself mourned the devastation being wrought upon the land.

​

Volcanic masses crumbled beneath the relentless onslaught, their defiant peaks reduced to molten rivers of despair. The landscape, once solid and unyielding, succumbed to the blistering heat of the Plasma Flame, transmuting rock and earth into ephemeral mists of vaporized ash.

The energy surged relentlessly, an unstoppable force that cleared through mountain after mountain, sparing nothing in its path. It was an act of celestial purification, a fiery proclamation that left no stone unturned, no mountaintop untouched. In its wake, the very land underwent a transformative metamorphosis, a testament to the raw power wielded by Zarathustra's Plasma Flame Launcher.

Shivers ran through Acacia's core as she witnessed the magnitude of the destruction unleashed. The once familiar terrain now lay obliterated, a canvas of desolation painted with strokes of divine wrath. The biblical awe of a sword of judgment striking the land had been transmuted into a cosmic symphony of shock and awe, a visceral reminder that Zarathustra was no mere machine but a cosmic force reshaping the very fabric of existence.

She cared not for the fate of the Knight of Gold caught in the blast; it was a warning shot, a cosmic punctuation mark demanding surrender.

Not that surrender was likely, and Acacia knew it all too well.

 

[Nemesis]

The sight of the giant unfolding itself in the distance was enough to slow the Knight of Gold's pace. The more diminutive, shining Mortar Headd looked up at its new, younger sibling as Raines' eyes widened in surprise.

"Is that a Mortar Headd? Look at the size of it...!"

If they really had returned to Joker, had things truly changed to such an extent? This wasn't a machine for honorable combat, no. If anything, it was more like the Machine Messiahs of old - engines of destruction, through and through. The very sight of it made his blood ran cold, and for a fleeting moment, uncertainty gripped him.

Nia's voice jolted him out of his shock, along with the screeching of what must have been the entire Knight of Gold's alarms, right in his ear.

"Lord Raines, we're in danger!"

The enormous Mortar Headd swung a weapon towards him, baleful flames flickering at its tip - and in that moment, his worst fears were confirmed.

"You've got to be kidding me."

His hands flew across the controls as though they were possessed, his mind of a singular thought. A singular action. The shining knight's arm swung to its back, and almost a mirror of its adversary, the barrel of the dreaded Buster Rock folded out into its grasp.

Normally, even the sight of such a thing would be enough to force an end to any conflict - but this foe was different. There was not a hint of hesitation as they pulled the trigger - and apocalyptic Hellfire sprang forth.

An all consuming tide of burning flame that would sear all before it. Even as the Knight of Gold's blast-shield engaged, hiding its delicate sensors from the onslaught that was to come, he could feel the first wave of heat wash over him, threatening to turn his body to ash.

Raines did the only thing he could.

"Buster Launcher! FIRE!"

​

A flash of brilliant gold amidst the inferno. Punching out, spearing through the flame, shearing it, forging a path. Blinding in its intensity, the light building until there was nothing but white.

---

"Yes! Hahahaha, YES!"

Only one figure stood amidst the devastation of the Zarathustra's inferno. Her arms were spread wide in the direction of the Gothicmade, the reflected flames dancing across her form-concealing dress. The fires parted about her form as she strode purposefully towards the battelfield, her feet carrying her faster than any human could ever dream.

"Lord Mateus...! Please, bear witness to your humble Techne's triumph!"

Her voice dropped into a low, reverent whisper even at the mention of her master's name. Nothing in this universe could have dragged her eyes away from the spectacle unfolding before her. History itself being rewritten, crushed into the dirt where it belonged, paving the way towards a new era...

Their new era.

---

Macross Galaxy Cargo Bay 17

The entire vessel rocked and swayed, as teams of MTs and Valkyries stumbled across the mountainside haphazardly. The heat was unbearable, the light even moreso. Being on retrieval duty was better than being sent into whatever the Hell was going on the other side of the cliffs - Captain Coda, it seemed, at least knew where his men would be able to do something.

Searchlights swept the craggy outcrops, illuminating shards of shattered containers. A Bishop MT lurched forward through the gloom, thrusters flittering as it sought its footing - and then stumbled, sliding across the rocks before it finally ground to a halt.

Its light shone on an upended metal crate. This one, at least, appeared to be intact, but...

The light snaked down to its feet. A black, ichorous substance coated the ground beneath it, slick to the touch. Some kind of oil? That wasn't in the manifest.

"What is this gunk...?"

He thumbed the radio.

"Captain? I think the cargo's been damaged. Hello? Captain?"

The MT circled the container slowly... and came to a stop.

An enormous, gaping hole on the opposite side of it. A fall couldn't have done this. The metal was bent outwards...

As if it had been opened from the inside.

Suddenly, the radio leapt to life. Static was replaced with an ear-piercing, blood-chilling scream. Then two. Then three. A nightmarish chorus, echoing all through the cockpit. The pilot's eyes flicked down, his hand grabbing from the receiver-

And then, to his everlasting horror:

Something grabbed back.

 

[Fenrir367]

“Prince Raines.”

Acacia’s voice came up on the comms as the buster launchers died down, Zarathustra emerging from the flames of altered landscape, more alike a demon than any kind of angel. Her voice was tinged with a sense of mockery.

The Gothicmade made its approach to the Knight of Gold, a straight path now rolled out before her due to the Plasma Buster Launcher. It was her first time seeing the golden machine in person. If nothing else it was gaudy.

Most said it was a piece of junk that is but a relic of a bygone era, but in things that are so quickly dismissed, there was likely more than meets the eye. Acacia was suspicious.

“Why run?”

The machine for all that it was, Acacia was more curious of the man piloting it.

“Abandon your duties as prince and flee Joker. Are you but a coward?”

Was the prince that loathsome of a position? Was this man so spineless? Then why would he take up arms in that Mortar Headd?

“Hey, Acacia, why are you talking? Let’s smash this guy to bits.”

Mistilteinn jabbed Acacia, uncontent by Acacia’s words over violence.

“Don't worry Mistilteinn, we’ll be putting on a bit of a show for Techne.”

Acacia responded and gave a smirk.

Zarathustra hastened its advance. Its plasma buster launcher held in both hands. Along the lower rail the bayonet blade extended downward, the launcher becoming a deadly spear. The space behind the white machine became distorted, the excess energy being purged from the wig binder scattering heat, visible particles dispersing from its rear.

“Close combat settings established, Weight Distribution adjusted, energy levels stable.”

Laevateinn announced to Acacia.

“We’re going rough and dirty.”

Acacia replied.

“Just as it should be.”

Mistilteinn grinned.

 

[Nemesis]

"Coward, huh?"

The young man shook his head, feeling the beads of sweat dripping down his face. Why bother to hide it? Why ignore the truth, staring him in the face?

"Yeah." He said, finally.

"Guess you could say that."

A dry, self-deprecating laugh accompanied his words. Sparks flew from the Knight of Gold's arm as it slowly withdrew its own Buster Launcher. The motion was jerky, halting, unbefitting of the grace commonly associated with a Mortar Headd. Repulsing the Zarathustra's attack, it seemed, had taken a lot more out of the Knight than expected.

"Same old Joker. Stagnating. Choking. That's how it felt to me. Like nothing I did mattered.

I had to get out.

I had to find... something. Anything.

There has to be a better way."

The Destiny Mirage's right hand came to rest on the hilt of its spaad, as the wind twisted about the two, the heat haze casting their images in twisted, funhouse-mirror like visages.

"Guess you work for the new guy, huh? King Fuck of Trash Mountain?"

Aside, Raines uttered under his breath:

"How bad is it?"

There was only a momentary pause on Nia's end before she responded, dryly:

"Eighteen servos, completely shot. Left arm, non-functional. We're a stone's throw from dead in the water."

Despite the man's words, the Knight of Gold stood unbowed. Its eyes bored into those of the Zarathustra, unflinchingly. As if it were looking into its counterpart's soul.

Questioning it.

 

[Kujo]

Inside the Galaxy, amidst the chaos beginning to spread through the hulking carrier, a sort of tunnel was forming straight through the carefully planned and intricate system of corridors where the people aboard the Galaxy were meant to be walking. Like clay, the plates, beams, wires, and anything else in the way was molded and pushed around as the Mirage knights and their Fatimas hurried along the length of the supernaturally formed express way being cut through the ship.

"I'm starting to feel like we should have abandoned ship when we were still in that solitary system."
"We're nearly there, quickly now."

DeSain led the group, firmly carrying his waifish servant Linaria in one arm and brandishing his speid in the other as he steadily ran forward, the air crackling around him as his Diver powers, which were thankfully usable hands-free, shot forth to mold obstructions out of the group's way. Behind him, Ren followed as he carried his own oversized speid over his shoulder while Juste, the masterpiece and more physically capable of the two Fatima, trailed close by her master's side and held a fine spaad in her delicate hands.

The Jokerians had managed to finally burst through into the hangar, DeSain having defended the group from the mysterious black masses with the same effect he had used to create their escape route. The cold bay was mercifully but eerily quiet as the group stared up at the prstine white monoliths that held the pride of the FEMC and even the empire itself. Almost in unison, Linaria and Juste pulled out what appeared to be strikingly mundane looking keyfobs and sure enough with a press and a shrill chirp the sealed containers loosed their covers rather forcefully and revealed the gleaming Mortar Headds within, the almost crystalline armor of the LEDs twinkling in the flickering lights of the Galaxy.

DeSain's bore its distinct head blade, more balanced and decorative than the base model with its heavy counterweight, along with a fine filigree on the mask under its left eye of a golden iris trailing down across the surface as if it were crying. Ren's LED bore no such personal mark, but it's crest blade was likewise nonstandard; the MH's "main" weapon swept forward from the head in a more aggressive and agile fashion than DeSain's vertical and imposing crest.

The two pairs deftly scaled their respective machines even as the lights of the hangar began to flicker and dim more and more.

 

[Fenrir367]

"Rather than a coward, you seem more like a lost child," Acacia sighed, her disappointment evident in the tilt of her head and the furrow of her brow as she absorbed Raines' words.

"One who's run away from the confines of home, now playing at being a gallant knight in shining armor?" Her tone was laced with a mix of scorn and pity as she continued her verbal assault.

Despite her reproach, Acacia couldn't deny a flicker of understanding for Raines' sentiments. She, too, harbored deep reservations about the oppressive Joker system and the state of society. Yet, unlike him, she chose to confront it head-on, donning the mantle of a Royal Knight with unwavering determination. For her, running away was never an option; she believed in her ability to effect change.

Their shared discontent only served to amplify Acacia's disdain for the man standing before her, a stark contrast to her own resolute spirit and proactive approach.

"Pathetic," she spat, her words dripping with contempt.

Before Raines could respond, Zarathustra surged forward, its polearm aimed at his golden-clad figure. With a swift motion, the machine kicked up a storm of dirt, sand, and debris, aiming to blind its adversary. It was a dirty tactic, but Acacia had never been one to fight fair.

“What do you even see in that wet tissue of a man?”

Mistilteinn spoke up, her question directed at the fatima of the Knight of Gold. Mistilteinn usually wasn't the kind to talk in a fight, but in her world of 'survival of the fittest', she wondered why a fatima would follow such a worthless man.

“Are you brainwashed like the rest?”

 

[Nemesis]

"You're wrong."

The dirt swung up - and the Knight of Gold swayed treacherously, its one good hand coming to its face - only barely catching the edge of the polearm across one of its forearms with a spray of sparks that left a gash across its gilded surface.

There it stood, the two straining against one another, as Niarchos spoke.

"Lord Raines braved the trek to Earth alone in search of answers. No army at his back. No Fatima. Nothing. Not even a Mortar Head to call his own.

He gave up a life of ease, of luxury you can only dream of - everything, all to try and find a better way. To live among those we had long deemed inferiors, to suffer as they did, so that Joker might once more have hope."

Raines blinked slowly. Her voice - so clear in its conviction, cutting through the gloom that had shrouded his heart. The self doubt. The taste of failure, after he had spoken so highly of the values of virtue, gone to such lengths to avoid betraying them. Not merely admiration... but awe filled him.

"Your Emperor, Mateus - he is no different from any tyrant than came before him. No matter what he's promising, he-"

"You WRETCH!"

There was a brilliant light - and an eruption of sound. A spherical burst of death that plowed into the Knight of Gold's right ankle, causing it to shake. Below, little more than a blur as she closed in, was the form of Techne, hands wreathed in baleful flame, voice trembling with unfettered fury.

"Accursed dragonspawn...! You DARE smear his name?"

---

The Knights were fortunate indeed in their timing - for had they waited even a moment longer, all would have been lost.

A tide of black flesh was surging through the walls at incredible speeds, carpeting it - a writhing, wriggling mass upon which yellowed eyes, teeth and fangs began to manifest. Nowhere, it seemed, was safe. As soon as DeSain boarded the LED, his vision would have been filled as an enormous arm stretched from the ceiling down towards his Mortar Headd, all tar, teeth and sinew, as it swung, eager to disembowel him in a single blow.

There was a crash at the end of the hangar, and another of the enormous creatures emerged, shoving aside piles of crates and mechanisms as though they were mere toys. An ear-splitting shriek pierced the air as it sighted the knights - jaw yawning wide in anticipation as it spotted its prey.

They would feast well tonight.

---

Enemy Force Composition:
Invader x2

 

[Kujo]

"The Ezlasers will need more time, we'll use the nail."

The Mirages, poised neatly within their "coffins" with Veils held over their chest, quickly sprung into action as their position was compromised; moving so suddenly on startup typically isn't something any MH should be burdened with, but the empire's finest could handle at least this much.

As the writhing black hand dropped down towards DeSain's LED, the Mortar Headd's Veil would be swung up to meet it as the meterotechrome claws swung out from underneath it. The pincers grappled and attempted to crush and cut the grasping limb, meanwhile Desain would maneuver the Mirage just outside of its box and retrieve a spaad from the Veil for its main hand weapon.

Ren meanwhile marched his LED out and quickly began to fire off most of its auxiliary weapons at the other beast waiting in the wings, the 180cm laser cannons from the Veil were more purposefully aimed by Juste to strike the creature, but much of everything else was merely in its general direction. The demolition blasters on the LED's chest and the anti material lasers beside it, however, would be focusing their fire entirely behind the beast in hopes to form an impromptu emergency exit from this situation.