[Date: 10/14/2645, 18:27, Mountain Time]
[Location: Sanctuary, Old Montana, Former Continental United States]

The rubble shook, and shifted as Michael's Titan marched through the burning streets. The rhythmic lift and fall of the machine's slow, steady stride was the only reminder of the power his mind controlled. The targeting reticle in his vision followed his eyes as he looked over the destruction before him. With each shift in his eyes, his Titan's weapons followed. An old targeting system, but no less effective. No less accurate. His comms tracker pinged three friendly signals, and the central point he'd forwarded to each of them. Radio silence was vital, at least until the fireteam reunited. 

The night's sky was blackened by smoke, and no light from star nor moon shown through. The only light by which Michael could see was from his Titan's floodlights, and the fire that surrounded him. Dread filled his mind at the force would have taken to launch such a devastating strike. It was a dread that only grew the deeper into the city he marched. He drew closer to the rendezvous, praying his teammates' Titans were in better shape than his.

He rounded a corner to find a Titan he'd fought beside many times. Its hull was painted a dusty brown, and its form was broad, and rounded. On one arm was the titanic barrel of its main gun while on the other was a massive shield, with the name "Phalanx" written sideways. Each shoulder carried a pair of laser emitters, ready and charged. Following close behind was a smaller, but much faster machine. Its hull was a similar dusty brown to the Phalanx. It stood tall, and slim, with a small missile rack over each shoulder. From its right arm stretched forth a blade. Along its length was the inscription: "Paladin".

Descending from the rooftops was the fourth and final Titan. The fall was slowed by its back-mounted thrusters. Its hull was sleek and angular. Its main gun resembled an infantryman's rifle, held in its massive, metallic hands. Over each shoulder was a small cubical pod with much smaller, but tightly grouped laser emitters, each one gave off a low red glow.

"Fireteam Rapture, Status report." Michael's voice was a low tenor rumble.

"A bit beat up from the fall, but nothing that'll keep me down." said Lund from the Phalanx. His was a voice as gruff, and stubborn as the Phalanx itself.

"Moore?" asked Michael.

"Same here, sir!" said a much younger, almost smug voice.

"Taketa?"

Another young voice replied. "Jump-jets softened the fall. Only damage is cosmetic. How's Thunderhead holding up?"

"Second massed-laser-array's shot to shit, and my third autocannon is jammed. Otherwise, I'm still in the fight."

"Sir," called Moore over the comms. "Knowing you, you could be reduced to a single functioning emitter from your right MLA, be stripped of all your armor, and you'd still say your 'In the fight.'"

"Damn straight." called Lund.

"Focus, Archangels." said Michael. "Now that we're all in one place, we need to prep for evac."

"You can't be serious, sir." Moore protested. "There could be survivors!"

"Do you see any comm pings, soldier?!" Michael's tone grew short. "Any SOS signals? Rescue flares? Do you even hear any gunfire?"

"They could be hiding, sir."

"The Mechrion don't leave survivors, Moore. And even if there were, there's nothing we can do for them without jeopardizing the mission. All we needed to do was get here, and figure out how we lost comms with this city."

The unspoken "And I think we've all figured that out." hung in the air.

"What about Vega?" asked Taketa.

Michael paused, then began his march past his Archangels. "We need to establish comms with Fortress. Get another dropship out here before we join the fallen."

"Then it's just a matter of surviving the three hours it'll take the pilot to get here." said Lund, grimly.

"You didn't answer my question, sir." said Taketa. Agitation gripped each word.

A familiar brief trill sounded in the Archangels' cockpits. Michael looked to his short-ranged sensors. A large blue dot showed an Element Zero signature. The only things that used Element Zero were the Mechrion. "Incoming contacts!" he barked into the comms. The Archangels immediately readied themselves. A large silver saucer with neon blue gaps in its underside flew into view, coming to a sudden halt. It hovered above them, spinning slowly. From the gaps in its hull spilled forth five machines the Archangels feared. Referred to simply as Battlesuits, they landed as solid metal spheres, and unfolded into machines not unlike the Titans. They were large, round, and stout. Their hull was smooth, and clean. Each one had two primary cannons, one mounted on each arm, shining bright at the muzzle.

The Thunderhead's cockpit filled with the shrill, jarring sound of a lock-on warning. Two of the Battlesuits turned their guns towards Michael. The opal glow grew brighter, as particles were pulled from the air around them into the emitters. Michael would not be outdrawn. He focused his eyes on one Battlesuit, and his Titan's weapons followed his gaze. With an aim he'd trained since childhood, he fired his one remaining MLA. A furious red pillar of energy sprang forth into his target. Its shields flared green, but held. It replied with twin particulate beams that slammed into the Thunderhead's hull. One carving into the shoulder, the other gliding through the Titan's bicep, dropping the rest of the arm ten feet to the cracked asphalt.

Another Battlesuit fired, this one carving into the Thunderhead's leg. The beams tore past the armor, and damaged the load-bearing structure inside. The leg groaned, protesting to its own weight as the Titan wobbled, and straightened. "I'm under fire, and need to reposition!" said Michael. "Cover me!"

Moore was next to engage. Each of his Titan's limbs came to life as if they were his own, linked directly to his mind. The Paladin weaved through the city ruins, and between the crossfire. Each bounding stride carried him closer to his target, his blade brought to bear. He sent a barrage of missiles into the Battlesuit Michael had engaged. Its shields flickered, and fell just in time for the Titan's bladed arm to stretch towards the Battlesuit. The sword carved straight into the thing's core. Its limbs went limp, and the entire machine crumpled to the ground.

Moore could barely withdraw his blade from the metal husk before twin particle beams burned into his Titan. His entire left side was stripped of its armor. "Shit, it's too hot here!" Moore snapped. He whipped his Titan around to face his attacker and fired his missiles again before retreating behind cover. "We need to get out of here!"

"We can't!" Bright yellow flames erupted Takeda as he fired his jump-jets. He perched atop the building from which he'd descended moments ago. Targeting the Battlesuit engaging Moore, he was quick to the trigger. One shot, one eighty-millimeter explosive shell flew from the muzzle of his Titan's rifle. Then another. The target's shields flickered, but otherwise didn't budge. 'Useless.' Teketa thought. He fired his own MLAs, each a much smaller array than the Thunderhead's, but the light went some way to disrupt the Mechrion shields.

During all this, Lund's Phalanx has been receiving fire from the other three contacts. The sheer bulk of his shield kept the aliens' attacks at bay, allowing him to return fire. Four green pulsing beams fired from the emitters over his shoulders at one target. His main cannon pounded another. His shield was crumbing faster than his targets. "Armor's getting thin here!" he called.

"Working on it!" answered Moore. Using his back-mounted linear thrusters, he dashed into the middle of the fray. With a quick whomp from his missile pods, the shields on Lund's primary target went down. The shrill snap of Teketa's rifle sounded, caving the exposed Battlesuit's hull, and tearing its left cannon off at the elbow. Michael maneuvered to take cover behind a crumbling building. He fired his remaining two cannons once, sheering the Battlesuit's leg off, and sending it tumbling to the ground.

The Phalanx's shield had been breached, and four particle beams tore into the Titan, shearing off its main gun, and breaching the cockpit. Lund cried in pain, and his comms went silent. The Phalanx had fallen. Overhead, another dropship hovered, and from it, five more of the alien Battelsuits spilled forth, surrounding the Archangels. Michael and Moore gathered near the Phalanx's smoking wreckage, while Takeda looked over it all.

"This is where it ends." said Moore.

"Then let's make them hurt for trying." declared Michael.