Cameron hit the ground with all the force of a divine judgement. He impacted the ground with such a thunderous crash that it displaced the chlorine gas around him, kicking up a layer of dirt and debris and giving him a brief moment that he could gaze into the shocked faces of the five Squire pilots through their windshields. Each of them bore a face that was caked in filth and grime, with bulging yet baggy and exhaustive eyes and wide-open mouths of rotted, blackened teeth. They all looked terrified, unsure of what to do as they looked at Cameron and to each other, mouths moving rapidly into their headsets.

Cameron knew exactly what he was going to do.

Without a word, Cameron ripped the sword from his back with his left hand, using the momentum to keep its arc until it collided with the shoulder joint of the Squire in front of him cutting into him like a hot knife through butter as he bisected the unit diagonally in one clean stroke, splaying blood and oil across the remaining combatants. He let the blade continue its trajectory until it buried itself into the ground. He spun left, using his boost jets to whip him around ninety degrees in an instant, in order to focus his attention on his next target. He pushed off the pommel of his sword with his palm, using it like a springboard to deliver a powerful kick to his opponent's midsection and sending him flying.

“This is about to hurt you… a lot,” He said, fully aware of the grin that stretched across his face, as he dashed forward, freeing his sword as he sped up to one hundred and fifty miles an hour and heaving it forward, its massive weight yanking him into a spiraling twirl before connecting with the second Squires cockpit on the upswing, blowing out the glass of the windshield and barreling through to squash the basic mech into the planet surface, like an insect under a boot.

“Oh, I am fucking amazing at this!” He declared, hefting his sword up to rest on his shoulders, and delivering one last stomp to the second Squire’s chassis.

“Sugar, I’m glad you’re having a good time and gaining some confidence in your abilities, but I just thought I’d let you know that three squires are closing in on your rear flank. Fifteen meters and dwindling fast.”

“Ah shit,” Cameron cursed, spinning around to see that she wasn’t lying as three squires were approaching in a wedge, spread out far enough that he couldn’t hit multiple with a single blow. They’re shields were up, covering most of the windshields, and their swords were drawn, positioned in varying heights and angles in order to dissuade him from wildly attacking.

“Well… this is a problem.”

Cameron tried to think quickly, struggling to come up with a plan. When that failed him, he resorted to what had been working; unchecked aggression and blinding speed. He dashed forward, appearing to meet the unit's head on, and causing them to stop short, readying for a fight.

“Not today, fuckers!” He shouted, leaping into the air, letting his boosters carry him into a hover above the heads of the three squires, before dropping back down, curling and flipping forward as he brought the sword down directly on the leader, cutting through him like paper. Staying crouched, he turned and threw his sword at the one on the left, before turning and bursting into a full speed tackle, spearing the one on the right. He wasn’t concerned about the accuracy of the blade itself, as long as he heard the windshield shatter, the noise of which greeted him, followed by the screaming chokes of a now poisoned pilot, leaving him to focus on the third.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

He looked down on the last pilot, terror splayed across his face, mouth agape in a silent scream, hands going up in what seemed to be a plea for mercy.

Cameron, would never know.

He drew back his arm, stretching his clawed fingers out to a point, before jabbing forward, breaking the glass and skewering the pilot, filling the cockpit with a scarlet mist.

Cameron stopped then, looking at the surrounding wreckage. His could feel his heart pumping hard in his ears, as the sound of his breathing filled the cockpit. He stood up straight, turning and walking to pull his sword out of the windshield of the second mech, ignoring the body that hung lifelessly over the side.

“Logan, you there?” He said, trying to catch his breath, “…People are dead now.”

It took Logan a while to respond, and when he did, heavy breathing, and the distant hum of alarms accentuated his words.

“Little busy here kid!” He said, “Seems that one of those Wardens was closer than we thought.”

Cameron shifted quickly, setting off in the direction, “I’m en route, try to keep him off you and we can take him together,”

“N0! Don’t worry about me! You need to focus on-”

Cameron didn’t catch the last of what Logan had said. Thelma had cut the audio feed so she could relay more pressing matters that were directly affecting her pilot.

“Mayday, Mayday,” She said, “Twin plasma lances approaching from your southwest sector two-six-five. Take evasive action, now!”

Cameron didn’t need to be told twice. Thinking fast, he dashed hard to the right, clearing the kill zone just as two beams of plasma energy hit the spot Cameron had been standing in a minute prior, transforming it from a dust covered piece of earth into a molten pit of red hot slag. The impact had been so intense, that even with Cameron avoiding the impact area, the force of the blast still took him off his feet, hurtling him a few dozen feet away. He spent several long seconds tumbling to a stop, feeling the beginning fogginess of a concussion being tamped down by a cocktail of drugs being fed directly into his synaptic uplink.

“Ugh…” He said, eyes swimming with jagged white flashes as he struggled to get to his feet, “What… the… hell…”

“My my…” A feminine voice said, tone dripping with malicious intent, and augmented by the static hum of an audiocaster, “You move quick pilot!”

Cameron’s eyes had to strain to search through the cloudy haze of gas, eventually being aided by Thelma’s scanners highlighting the surrounding environment. It was then he saw where the voice had came from. One voice belonging to one of three units and Cameron could take a guess that it was coming from the figure who wielded a large, bow-like construct, fashioned in the shape of an X, with a large bolt of blue plasma thrumming in the center, raised and aimed straight at him, before he heard the voice again.

“Shame I don’t miss twice…”