PART 1

“Brace yourself!”

Mark hit the accelerators as he shot forward toward the origin of the explosion.

His mouth was curved into a dangerous edge as Catherine clung tight to him.

They careened through the narrow streets, dodging the scared pedestrians, until they reached a large rectangular building where smoke was rising from.

Emblazoned across the front of the structure were what had once been crystal displays that had once showcased their goods, now they were just a shattered mess.

And hovering above them all, like a crown on a fat monarch, was a signboard that proudly declared "Hondor's Naughty House".

Of course, the most notable thing was how it was bathed in flames that threatened to spread to the neighboring buildings.

Amidst the fiery spectacle, the shouts of rebellion erupted.

“Freedoom!”

“Death to the Markels!”

A group of humans, wearing collars and ragged clothes was currently rallying in front of such a scene.

But it wasn't just their attire that caught the eye; it was the tools they were brandishing that captured their attention.

“Here, take a tool to freedom!”

Amid the cheers and chants, a group of scantily dressed individuals, hips swaying, walked through the crowd, distributing weapons.

“Here, honey. Burst their brains.”

A particular woman winked at a tourist, giving him a large metal bat.

“Yes!”

The man trembled with enthusiasm, hugging the bat like it was a precious baby.

Catherine's face twisted into a worried expression.

“Master, I don’t like it.”

She attempted to explain the dire situation unfolding before them.

“It seems that the, uh, pleasure slaves are rising against their masters, again.”

Mark glanced at her, lifting his left eyebrow in a mix of skepticism and amusement.

“Really? Is this like a bi-annual event or something?”

Catherine's shoulders drooped, her eyes becoming downcast.

“Master, I think it's serious. It's not the first time.”

She hesitated, avoiding eye contact with Mark by looking down.

“You see, the, uh, pleasure slaves are often in contact with foreigners…”

She fidgeted, trying to recall what she had heard.

“And sometimes, some of these customers, the ones who've had too many cocktails, I guess, start to feel all soft and fluffy about them and try to help them escape.”

Mark interrupted her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Ok, I get it. Some runaway slaves come back and free their friends before they are dealt with by the locals.”

Catherine's gaze dropped to her scarred fingers, each mark a reminder of both her servitude and her simmering apprehension.

She half-expected that her master would punish her because of what the other slaves were doing.

Still, she decided to ask him.

“What are we going to do now, master?”

Her voice came out like a soft whisper.

Mark didn’t answer immediately, instead, his hand rose to caress her cheek.

“Silly Cat.”

He said, his smile widening in a disturbing crescent.

“That’s pretty obvious. We are going to join the rebellion!”

The words hit Catherine's chest like a sledgehammer, leaving her speechless.

PART 2

“Join the rebellion?”

Catherine’s disbelief was written all over her pretty face.

Her mind was in disarray at her master’s logic.

Mark, on the other hand, reveled in the moment.

“That’s right.”

Mark affirmed, his middle finger pointing toward a towering 'titan armor', a colossal mecha used by firefighters of this world.

Mark's eyes glinted with a mixture of determination and a bit of lunacy.

“I'm going to use that armor to give the Markels a taste of their own cosmic medicine. You know, a little 'boom' here, a little 'smash' there.”

Catherine looked at the rusted, old mecha with spinning eyes, her mouth open in disbelief.

“Smash? Master, this doesn't seem like a good idea.”

Her voice trembled, carrying both concern and dread through her words.

“You're putting yourself at risk, and they... they’ll hurt you.”

Catherine's eyes flashed with a hint of something darker, a memory of the master who had once held her captive.

However, Mark disregarded Catherine’s concern.

Instead, he hit the button of full power of the Biker, the motor humming with a loud, deafening sound.

“Hold tight!”

Mark shouted above the mechanical screeching as he rotated the accelerator’s handles.

“Today, we’re going to make story.”

With a harsh hurl, the biker sped forward, causing Catherine's heart to somersault within her chest.

She held thigh to his clothes and buried her head on her master's back.

“We’ll die!”

Ignoring the young girl’s frantic plea, Mark donned his cartoonish goggles.

Controlling the biker, he spun around the furious crowd as he positioned the vehicle at the right angle.

Finding a building, whose roof resembled a slope because of the fire, Mark aimed the Biker at it.

Then, with a burst, they shot forward, the world around them becoming a blur of colors.

For a second the Biker flew through the air like a comet breaking atmosphere.

In that fleeting moment, Catherine's heart skipped a few beats, and she could have sworn she saw her long-gone pet lizard zooming by like a specter.

Then, gravity pulled the Biker downwards, directly at the Titan Armor.

Seeing the crazy maneuver, the mecha tried to direct its water cannon at them, but it was too late.

With a deft movement, Mark grabbed a crying Catherine and clung to the mecha’s surface.

“We’re alive.”

Catherine, face full of both surprise and relief, dangled from Mark’s right arm.

Her watering eyes gazed into the ground below where the angry crowd watched astonished at what they were doing.

Holding her, Mark executed a kick to a thin panel that connected to the pilot.

The panel snapped easily, falling open to reveal a round, wide-eyed pilot ensconced within, who gazed up at Mark as if he'd just materialized from hell.

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“Come to Daddy!”

Using a corner of the exposed panel as his foothold, Mark made his way into the armor's belly, his hands grabbing onto the frightened pilot.

With a shout, Mark gave a mighty push, propelling the previously-confused pilot out of the Titan Armor.

His eyes locked onto Catherine's and beamed like a child.

“See, I told you it would be easy.”

She gazed up at Mark with a mixture of wonder and incredulity.

Finally, she gave up protesting and just slumped inside the Armor’s cabin.

PART 3

The colossal rust-covered Titan armor jolted forward with an awkward, lopsided step, nearly tripping over the smoldering remains of Mark's ill-fated Biker.

Catherine clung to the pilot seat for dear life, her knuckles turning white with each jarring movement.

“Okay, so if I pull this one, the right leg should brake… maybe.”

Mark shouted over the cacophony of clunking metal.

He pressed another button, causing the mecha's massive arm to swing in an exaggerated chopping motion, narrowly missing a nearby stack of crates.

“I think I kind of get how this baby works!”

Of course, the frightened young girl behind him didn’t share his enthusiasm.

Ignoring her protesting muscles, she pleaded to her master.

“Please, master. We still have the time to run away before they hurt you.”

Mark huffed, not bothering to turn around as he commanded the Armor to walk forward.

He could understand her concerns, but there were things more important to do, like smashing that approaching patrol.

“Master, I implore you.”

Catherine pressed, her voice quivering with a mix of urgency and fear.

“We have a chance to escape before things get out of hand. These armors are powerful, but they're also dangerous. We don't need to confront them head-on.”

Mark let out another impatient huff, still absorbed in his own world.

His fingers danced over the control panel, commanding the Titan armor to take a step forward.

With a swift and exaggerated motion, Mark pulled on the controls, causing the mecha's enormous metal fist to plummet earthward.

The impact was as thunderous as it was comical, squashing the group of Markels below into a pool of green liquid.

“Take that, you overgrown orcs!” Mark exclaimed, a mischievous spark lighting up his eyes.

“Freedom!”

Meanwhile, the rebels joined the fray from Mark’s sides, firing their weapons at the straggling slavers as the Titan armor continued to march forward.

“JAJAJA!”

Mark's laughter erupted, unrestrained and joyful.

His eyes shone with a mixture of exhilaration and sheer madness as he piloted the mecha through the chaos he'd helped unleash.

“I would have never imagined that turning these disgusting beings into pancakes would be so darn satisfying!”

As they continued advancing through the throngs of Markels, Catherine’s tense face started to relax.

She stole a sideways glance at her eccentric master, a mixture of disbelief and appreciation playing across her features.

Despite the absurdity of the situation, she had to admit there was a twisted satisfaction in watching Mark's audacious maneuvers.

While Mark's sanity might be questionable at times, his piloting skills were undeniably extraordinary.

“Maybe, just maybe, we can actually pull this off.”

A whisper escaped her mouth, something she was not meaning to say out loud.

However, Mark managed to hear it amidst his full blown laughter.

He didn’t turn around to glance at her but he still responded.

“Of course we will win! You shouldn’t doubt the man who chose you!”

A small but genuine smile curved upon Catherine's lips and nodded her head.

“Yes!”

Catherine affirmed, her voice growing stronger with each passing word.

“We will definitely win!”

Mark joined in.

“That’s the spirit, Cat!”

PART 4

“We are almost there!”

Catherine’s voice was transmitted through the loudspeaker of their Titan Armor.

The rebels, who had started to see Catherine as their beacon of hope amidst the chaos, cheered as the tide of battle shifted in their favor.

Catherine's down-to-earth nature and fierce loyalty had won her a special place in their hearts.

Why?

They were almost upon the doors of the biggest trafficker of the city, just a tiny step away from taking control of the situation.

“Shit! A Tin Ravager II!”

Mark couldn’t help exclaim out as.

Mark's voice crackled with disbelief as a new Titan Armor got into view.

“Why does it always have to get interesting at the worst possible moment?”

This mecha whose exterior was tarnished and battle-worn, an armor plating etched with scars and memories of past conflicts.

Despite its age, it represented a formidable upgrade compared to the beaten and battered Ravager I that Mark had been piloting.

“Master!”

Catherine's voice rang out, sharp and urgent.

“Another one incoming from the left street!”

Mark gritted his teeth.

Instead of panic or fear, his response was a manic grin, as if the arrival of more foes had just turned the battlefield into his personal playground.

He tightened his grip on the controls, eyes gleaming with exhilaration, as he observed the approaching pair of mechas, their energy cannons charging to attack.

With a fast movement of hands, Mark forced his Titan Armor to leap into the air just moments before the enemy cannons unleashed their deadly energy.

“Take this!”

A cascade of water erupted from the cannons mounted on his Armor's back.

Mark fired the water cannons installed on its Armor’s back.

The water splashed over the enemies’ head, enveloping their main cameras and distorting their view.

With a series of loud creaks and groans, Mark's Armor fell to the ground, its joints protesting against the insane maneuver.

Small explosions echoed in the vicinity as the enemy attacks landed, narrowly missing Mark's mecha and instead impacting nearby buildings.

The debris flew into the air in a shower of sparks and concrete, creating a cacophony of destruction.

“Those bastards!”

Catherine's voice crackled with anger as the enemy's debris struck their fellow rebels.

On the ground, rebels were strewn about in various states of injury, some bleeding, others unmoving.

This caused her newly found determination to spark into a flame within her.

But Mark remained in his own world, his focus unwavering as he navigated the chaos.

Mark steered his Armor through the streets in a manner that was, to anyone else, utterly absurd.

He leaped and zigzagged, moving with an unpredictable rhythm that seemed more like a child dance than a battle strategy.

The enemy mechas, inexperienced and flustered by Mark's erratic movements, fired a barrage of energy blasts and missiles, yet they kept missing their target.

“That’s gotta be mine!”

Mark's voice crackled with a mixture of excitement and determination. He had his sights set on the prize.

“Cat, hold on.”

In a daring maneuver that left even Catherine dumbfounded, Mark managed to slip in front of the nearest Ravager.

“Stop!”

The enemy pilot seemed flustered, too scared of Mark's approach to the point it stopped firing at him.

In that moment of hesitation, Mark seized the opportunity.

With a lightning-fast motion, he reached out and grabbed the enemy's energy cannon with one hand, wrenching it free from the Ravager's grasp.

At the same time, he used his other palm to push the enemy mecha backward, toppling it onto its rear.

Now, he had real firepower.

PART 5

Alex couldn't suppress a wide, mischievous grin that stretched his lips so far it practically hurt.

“Showtime!”

The time to run like a headless chicken was over, It was time for them to strike back.

So, without a second thought, he willed the Titan Armor into action, directing it to fire off two rapid, concise energy attacks.

The shot connected directly with the enemy’s stumbling armor.

This caused the cabin and its pilot to get caught in a fiery burst as an explosion engulfed them.

"Yee-haw!"

Mark hollered with unbridled enthusiasm.

Catherine joined in exhilaration.

“Take that!”

Together, Mark and Catherine screamed in wild excitement.

Their triumphant battle cry filled the air as the enemy mecha plummeted downward, consumed by an explosion that lit up the battlefield in a burst of orange and red.

“Ulpack!”

As smoke billowed out of his fellow pilot’s cabin, the other enemy cried out the name of his fellow pilot.

Perhaps, filled with rage, he unleashed a final, desperate barrage of missiles at Mark.

However, that was a critical mistake.

Mark's Titan Armor glided effortlessly over the slick ground, dodging the projectiles easily.

With impeccable timing, Mark executed a high kick that connected squarely with the enemy's cabin.

The impact dented the cabin, causing the Markel pilot’s purple blood to seep out of it like a gory shower.

Mark's Titan Armor groaned as he fought to regain its footing, the joints creaking with audible strain.

Bits of scrap metal rained down from its arms as it finally righted itself.

A few seconds later, those scraps were blasted away by the explosion of the missiles hitting ground.

“Master, the generator below us is heating!”

Catherine's voice sliced through the clamor of battle with a note of concern.

Hearing Catherine’s warning made Mark’s expression shift.

Memories of his early days in the piloting school for deliveries came back to him.

“That's right!”

He exclaimed, smacking his open palm with his right fist as if striking gold.

“This thing has no cooling system.”

That little tidbit was something he learned while watching cabin porno on the net with his buddies.

“Cat! We’re going to get a bit drenched!”

Catherine’s eyes widened, her fingers tightened around the back of Mark's seat.

“Drenched?.. What do you mean?”

In response to Catherine’s question. Mark pointed the water cannons of his Armor upwards, shooting the remaining water skywards.

The water fell down upon them like a miniature typhoon, quenching the flames that had surrounded them and leaving them thoroughly soaked.

“Hua!”

Catherine sputtered, water spilling from her lips as she tried to clear her mouth, her hair sticking uncomfortably to her face.

Mark turned around to look at Catherine, his gaze lingering on Catherine's drenched clothes as they clung to her body, particularly her chest.

“I see you have a good pair.”

Catherine's face flushed with embarrassment and indignation.

She shot Mark a fiery glare, feeling wronged.

Mark just laughed, ignoring she was angry as their cabin was wide open.

Instead, he directed the Titan Armor to his new objective, the trafficker who ruled this city with iron-fists.