Chapter 15: The Meatgrinder (Part 2)

The Carkussan Armor surges forward with earth-trembling steps, and Leon acts with his gut; grabbing the officer next to him as he surges to his feet.

He doesn’t quite throw his peer, but rather slides him across the ground as Leon himself rolls away. The mech’s blade comes down a heartbeat later, splitting the earth where he and his officer stood moments ago.

“Enemy Armor!!” Leon screams, veins bulging along his neck. “Get to cover!”

“You are alone now, scum!” the Carkussan screams, blade flashing as it slashes and stabs. “Your leaders have abandoned you! Your vaunted Armors have fled like cowards! You will die here, and your broken bodies will seed the earth with the life to come!” men flee from it, but a handful are crushed beneath its legs or obliterated by its arm-blade. “And I will kill a hundred of you for every one of my brothers you’ve killed! Die! Die!”

Leon watches its movements, his past life’s experiences allowing him to read its movements easily. He had no rhyme or reason to the attacks, all of which were disorganized and callous– filled with the energy and hecticness of man driven beyond the breaking point. There is no technique to his motions, no efficiency; he is just lashing out now.

In other words, a fucking greenhorn with a panic attack.

“Fucking hell, this world sucks.” he mutters, running to the mech as it focuses on fleeing Holfortan soldier. An opening. “Damn greenhorns…”

Leon jumps onto a leg and climbs to the mech’s right flank. He finds the hidden armor panel, pulls it off, and sees the emergency lever. He pulls it and the mech freezes as its cockpit opens.

Before the pilot inside realizes what’s happening, Leon clambers in, punches his face, unbuckles his seatbelt, and hauls him one with one hand. With a grunt, he throws the flailing man onto the ground. He’s mobbed by a group of vengeful Holfortan’s seconds later, and dies screaming.

Leon doesn’t pay attention to that, focusing on the mech’s interior and examining the controls. They were more or less the same as the model he flew back during the monster cull, with a few added control panels and a different weapon loadout. He could work with this, no sweat.

“Marshwell, what the fuck?!” the same officer from before runs up to him. “You took on an Armor and hijacked it?!”

“I told the commander I was a pilot, but did he believe me?” Leon snorts, bringing up his communicator. “Marshwell to Command, I’ve successfully hijacked an enemy Armor intact. Be advised, the Armor is a Carkussan model with–” he looks at the mech’s exterior of any identifying marks. “09 on the mech’s shoulders with black paint. How copy?”

“...r-repeat that, Marshwell?” the radio operator asks. “You– you hijacked a–”

“An enemy Armor intact, identification number is a black ‘09’ on its shoulders.” Leon repeats, annoyance bubbling. “Interrogative; Armor support for the West Infantry force has pulled back and the order to charge for the fort remains unchanged, confirm?”

“That– Marshwell, slow down, we’re barely–”

“There’s no time to slow down, damn it! The Carkussan’s might counterattack any second!” Leon snarls. “Answer my damn question, are the orders to assault the fort still unchanged?”

“Y-Yes, orders remain unchanged.”

“Copy.” Leon sighs, taking off his torso and shoulder armor– they were too bulky to fit comfortably in the mech anyway. “Command, be advised; I will be using the captured enemy Armor to provide support to the West Infantry force to fulfill our orders. Relay this info to other allied units on the southeast side– do not shoot at the Carkussan Armor with the black ‘09’ on its shoulders. How copy?”

“D-Do not shoot at the Carkussan Armor with the black ‘09’ on its shoulders, C-Command copies.” the radio operator stammers.

“Affirmative. Marshwell out.” Leon grunts, and turns to his fellow officer; finally seeing the other Holfortan soldiers gathering around him and the captured mech. They whisper among themselves and stare at him in naked awe. He rolls his eyes. “Don’t just stand there and gawk, get clear!”

The soldiers immediately back up as Leon thumbs the activation switch and the MT hums back to life. The readings update and he sees what the mech is packing; two forearm-mounted blades, grenades, and a lever-action shotgun with 28 extra shells. He starts loading the gun even as he switches to Holfortan frequencies.

“Leon to West Infantry force, how copy?” he transmits. “I’m broadcasting from the captured enemy, do you read?”

“Loud and clear Leon– how the hell do you know how to pilot one of those things?!” comes the immediate question.

“The interior’s no different to a Holfort Armor, they just added a few panels.” Leon distractedly explains as he spin-reloads the shotgun. “Alright, I’ll take care of the fort’s cannons and blow open the gate. Do not charge until I’ve given the signal. Understand?”

“Ye-Yeah, we understand!” the officer confirms, sounding enthusiastic. “I’ll spread the word, get everybody ready!”

“You better.” Leon says, finding himself smiling. He switches to external speakers. “Alright, sit tight boys! We’re taking the fort today!”

He hears cheers over the gunfire and the muted hum of his MT’s thrusters activating as he hops out of the trench and lands back in no-man’s land. He sees the cannons and mages of the fort’s entire west battlement rotate towards him, taking aim. Rifle fire pings useless off his armor as the MT boosts forward.

“Come on!” Leon challenges.

=X=X=X=X=X=

One lone Armor against a fort’s worth of guns. In any other circumstance, it would have been a forgone conclusion– no way a single armor could take on a fort by itself.

Fort Augur’s west battlements boast 10 cannons, each manned by a crew of 4 firing high-explosive shells that could mangle man and machine. On the secondary defense lines right outside of the fort are 4 more cannons, protected by trenches and infantry dedicated to the defense of their homeland.

These cannons roar when Leon doesn't respond to their hails-- sending shells down range at the single metal form that dares approach. Craters and dirt geysers bloom, the earth shudders, but not one shell manages to even graze the lone Armor– much to the growing dread of the defenders.

Leon makes the mech dance across the battlefield as he pilots it; spinning left and right, jinking forwards and sideways, hopping forwards and building up speed, even flying in the air for short bursts– seemingly taunting the cannoneers with an easy target, before landing back on the ground resuming its dizzying approach. When the Carkussan gunners finally wise up and start aiming for where he’s going and not where he is, the mech is already at the secondary defensive line.

The mech bends low and extends its forearm-mounted blade, placing its edge on the ground. Dirt kicks up as it’s dragged forward over the secondary trenches, and men die where they are too slow to duck or lay down– bisected, beheaded, or simply obliterated into nothing. The Armor keeps dragging its weapon along the ground until it reaches the cannon, where it violently slashes upwards– wrecking the gun and sending it flying into the air.

But Leon doesn’t stop. He continues to move, turning in a tight circle to face the other three guns. The crews abandon their posts as the Armor barrels forward and slashes at the remaining cannons, bisecting them into two halves.

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Then he spins the mech around and levels its shotgun at the trenches. It shoots twice, killing dozens, then flies upwards onto the fort’s battlements where the remaining cannons lay.

Rifle fire and spells fill the air, but they’re not potent enough to damage the Armor beyond scuffing its plating and scratching the paint. It reaches the same height as all the battlements and levels its blade perpendicular to the battlements. A heartbeat passes before it surges forward, pulling its blade behind it and destroying whatever lay in the weapon’s path. Men throw themselves off the battlements to avoid obliteration by the blade as it grinds stone to dust and turns cannons into scrap.

When the last gun is wrecked beyond use, Leon slows the mech’s front movement and uses the blade on the battlement as leverage to vault over; landing inside the fort. The shotgun comes up, fires three times, and kills Carkussans by the dozens. Gunpowder stores go off in fiery explosions and tents implode from sudden impacts with the upsized pellets. Then it boosts to the west entrance gate, lunges, and kicks it open with both legs while it’s airborne.

“The door’s wide open, boys!” Leon cries. “Charge!”

The Holfortan’s occupying the far trench surge outwards in a tide of bodies hundreds strong, rushing across no-man’s land at superhuman speed. The more cowardly among the Carkussans break ranks and run, fleeing for their lives. Those that remain choose to affix bayonets and meet the Holfortans in melee– preferring to die in the open than in the trenches.

“Cowards!” comes a furious voice from the Carkussan Armor's external speakers. “Holfort whore-son!”

Leon looks up to see three Carkussan Armors fly in from the southeast, likely having been redirected to defend the fort. All three land as the first Holfortans rush into the fort, and Leon stands over them protectively.

“You come to our land, threaten our sovereignty, and now dirty an Armor of our homeland with the blood of its own countrymen?!” the lead Carkussan mech snarls, leveling an arm-mounted blade at Leon. “I will rip you out of that warmachine and crush you into a pulp! Then I’ll spit your head and–”

“Yap yap yap– are we going to talk or are we going to fight?” Leon scoffs. “Come on, I don’t have all day!”

“Impudent whore-spawn!” the lead Armor charges forward– running, instead of boosting. “You will learn too–!”

Leon boosts forward, feet glued firmly on the ground. He shifts his weight and spins around the charging enemy mech and slashes at its back– tearing metal and denting plate armor. The Carkussan mech falters and trips, falling face first onto the dirt.

“...why are you running?” comes Leon’s genuinely confused question, the young man letting the enemy Armor pilot get back on their feet. “You have thrusters on your back, they can be used to push your Armor forward much faster– you don’t have to run.”

“A-Are you mocking me, Holfortan?!” the lead mech demands.

“Arrogant little–!” one of the other Carkussan’s snarls, rushing forward to slash at Leon’s exposed back.

But the mech moves again, thrusters activating and spinning it to the side just as the enemy mech slashes– hitting nothing. Leon’s counter-slash bisects the enemy mech into two halves.

“Stop running! You’d much faster if you used your thrusters to slide your forward!” Leon complains. “Why the hell aren’t you guys making full use of your mech’s abilities? So much wasted motion and energy–”

“Quiet, damn you!” the lead Carkussan roars, lunging for Leon. The second Carkussan Armor behind Leon also charges. “Rrrraaagh!”

“Oh, for the love off–” is all Leon says, rolling his eyes.

His mech boosts forward, letting the two Carkussan mechs smash into each other. He shifts his weight and the mech spins, placing Leon behind the pair as he levels his blade at them. He boosts forward and impales both enemy Armors through the torso, killing their pilots.

The young man doesn’t even bother saying anything, just yanks his weapon out and letting the two Armors collapse into a heap.

=X=X=X=X=X=

With the last of the Carkussan Armors dealt with, Fort Augur falls in short order as the West Infantry force storms the southeast battlements with Leon providing support. The surviving Carkussans that surrendered are tied up and gathered, and the Carkus flag is replaced with the Holfortan one.

The men cheer as Leon steps out of his armor, and he’s immediately mobbed; hoisted up and carried by a crowd of his fellow infantrymen from the west assault force. On the sidelines, he spots the Holfortan Armor pilots and higher-ranked officers gawking at him; either due to his age or the feats he managed during combat– hijacking an enemy Armor while it was in use, figuring out how to pilot that Armor on the fly, effectively crippling a fort’s defenses single-handedly, and winning a 3-against-1 mech duel. All on his first flight.

“Three cheers for Marshwell!” one soldier yells.

“Hear, hear! Hear, hear! Hear hear!”

“Alright! Alright! That’s enough!” Leon laughs. “Put me down, damn it! Down!”

“You heard the Corporal! Put him down!” the regiment commander booms, walking up to the crowd flanked by two more officers. “I’ll not have you sorry lot mess with our ace here!”

“Commander.” Leon salutes, even as he’s set down on the ground. “Didn’t expect you to arrive here so soon.”

“Neither did I son, but you’ve forced my hand.” the older man grips Leon’s shoulders. “I'll apologize for doubting your piloting skills earlier, but right now you’ve got bigger things to worry about. You'll be meeting the theater commander.”

“When’s he coming” Leon blinks, and the commander jerks his head behind him. “Aw crap…”

“I am Augus Fou Jaeger! Theater commander of this war!” a gaudy man with excessive make-up and a uniform covered in so many medals that it looks impractical. “Where is Corporal Leon Fou Marshwell?”

Leon trades looks with the 422nd’s commander before stepping forward.

“Here I am.” he announces, walking up to the Count and saluting.

“Hmph.” the older man looks him over, eyes disdainful and frown deep. “A mere boy was able to do in a few hours what I could not in 3 months? Were I a lesser man, I would be offended. But I recognize the severity of the situation and thus grant you a pardon for acting beyond your station, as well as promote you appropriately for your valor. For this day forth, you are now a Lieutenant. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.” Leon nods.

“And as a Lieutenant, you will be expected to shoulder increasingly more dangerous missions for the sake of the war effort.” the Count continues, eyes glinting maliciously. “Seeing how capable you are operating on your own, you shall be assigned as an independent Armor detachment to the 422nd-- with a maintenance and support crew on-hand to assist in Armor repairs and maintenance. Your task will be to support them on whatever mission they are sent on, regardless of the time or place.” he grips Leon’s shoulder with more force than necessary and gives him a firm shake. “This is a great honor and heavy responsibility, Lieutenant. I and the rest of this army have high hopes for you.”

“...yes sir.” Leon nods, understanding why his Count was trying to do with assigning him as the only Armor support that the 422nd regiment would have for the time being. “I’ll be sure to be… quick in doing whatever missions you give me.”

“I certainly hope so!” the Count laughs, obnoxiously arrogant. “I fully expect Carkus to be conquered in a year’s time!”

Internally, Leon snorts. A year? He’ll do it in 6 months.