For an operator that actually lives in the city she presides over, she’s unusually calm about impending doom, Jace realized. But nothing helps the hunt like a bit of luck. He was grateful. He grabbed the main control sticks and took a few breaths.

            One

            Two

            The g-force of the immediate thrust would’ve been uncomfortable if not for the specialized cockpit.

            The initial thrust lifted the MAC out of its cage, filling the box with smoke, ash, and flame as Jace continued to the sky. Once airborne, the main generator did its work and raised the machine to the city skyline and Jace managed to set it down on one of the nearby defense platforms.

            Jace brought the main battery of missiles to bear, the ones that were housed in the makeshift flagpole. The rectangular box was levered onto the machine’s shoulder, locking in place with a loud metallic snap followed by a series of ratcheting gears. Jace was able to keep the MAC fairly stable throughout this process, which was the main reason he was considered a half-decent pilot.

            The city’s other MAC, piloted by a woman named Callista who had painted it in woodland camouflage in her downtime (not very effective for the role of a city-based defense unit, but she liked the military feel of it), pulled ahead of Jace and moved to the city’s outskirts. The woodland camouflage was especially useless considering the red stripes she painted on as well. She didn’t say a word to Jace, but this was anything but odd. She told Jace, after an extraordinary amount of alcohol, that she listens to certain audio clips on repeat when she goes out on a mission. She didn’t go into too much detail, partly because it seemed very personal and partly due to her passing out moments later, but Jace had a decent idea of the situation.

            Callista was a veteran in some mechanized infantry battalion quite some time ago. A gunner in an IFV or something similar. She was involved in some high casualty encounters.

            Jace imagined unloading a half dozen comrades you were just bullshitting with only to see them evaporated as they move into position could do a lot to a person’s psyche.

            Four plumes of smoke rose up from Callista’s machine as she launched a full salvo from her main battery. Jace double checked his armament and waited for Callista to make a sign on whether she neutralized the threat or not. As far as Jace could tell, the incoming projectiles were few and the blast radius of the MAC’s big missiles should be more than enough to clean them all up.

            If anything, she might get a talking to for wasting resources after firing all four.

            “Jace,” Guinevere’s voice reverberated in the claustrophobic cockpit, “the watch tower is reporting multiple explosions. They’re saying they look like solid hits. What’s Callista doing?”

            “Direct hits huh… well, Callista hasn’t moved.” Jace relaxed his grip on the controls a bit, “But she hasn’t readied any more of her arsenal.”

            “Still… something’s off. She practically has a sixth sense about these things. Be careful.” Guinevere still sounded fairly upbeat, but part of Jace thought she might have been forcing it.

            As much as Jace didn’t want to admit it, it was odd that Callista hadn’t given an all-clear yet. She always did.

            Jace was sweating more than usual now.

            The MACs themselves were humanoid metal golems that stood about four stories tall. These city defense models had the main missile battery on one shoulder, a CIWS on the other, a large tower shield that was hinged onto the left side in place of an arm, and a small shotgun (though it fired a spread of 90mm rounds, so not too small) in the normal right arm. Besides this, a host of rocket and missile batteries were bolted onto the rest of the frame, from legs to the top of the head. Overall, these variants were essentially massive powder boxes with a single means of defense and a focus on taking down enemy missiles and fast flyers at a distance.

            With this in mind, Jace realized things were going quite wrong when Callista’s shield, in all its woodland camo glory, swung around to the front of her MAC and she used a quick series of thrusts to lift up into the air and angle herself to the incoming blow.

            The round that was probably enough to blast straight through her shield instead gouged a deep scar as it glanced off the now-angled surface, causing a large explosion in a nearby thirty-five story company housing complex.

            Callista was quick to eject her main missile battery, which was now just an empty steel weight throwing off her balance. Jace boosted up and launched all four heat-seeking missiles simultaneously in the direction Callista was facing, knowing full well they would do nothing. The full salvo threw his machine entirely off balance, nearly putting it through a nearby power station. He regained control at the last minute and tried to eject his own now-empty missile battery as quickly as possible.

            Jace’s sweat was coating the controls, his breathing had become sporadic and labored, his heart beat so loudly that he could no longer hear Guinevere on the comms. He didn’t need to hear her. He knew what was happening.

            As the seconds counted down and an unexpected battle approached, Jace was keenly aware he would be facing his first enemy MAC. If the projectile that hit Callista’s shield had been a missile or something similar, she wouldn’t have had to block. She would’ve used the advantages of the MAC to destroy the projectile, or at least dodge it before contact. What hit her shield was most certainly a large caliber gun attached to a MAC.

            Jace just managed to swing his shield in front of himself and bring up his shotgun as a burning light burst through the smoke trail left by the missiles.

            It went straight for Callista. It had a small automatic weapon in one hand and a lance in the other. The large cannon stowed on the back was the likely culprit for what nearly punched through Callista’s shield.

            The initial barrage of gun fire was easily soaked up by Callista’s battered shield. Her shotgun flashed once, twice, then three times before the two metal beasts collided over the city, sending sparks and armor chunks soaring down in a beautiful and deadly shower for those below.

            Callista’s shotgun blew off some metal on one of the legs, but nothing more. The enemy’s lance, however, was beginning to glow and sink through Callista’s now-pinned shield as the two MACs held each other in a violent embrace. 

            Sirens in the city below blared and bellowed. Long winded warnings tried to guide the citizens to the nearest shelters, but for many it was already too late. The battle in the sky was already underway. 

            Jace’s camera easily displayed the now reddened city streets. His vision was starting to go black at the corners. He felt sick.

            How, how could anyone fight through all of this?

            “Jace! Jace respond! God dammit Jace, if you don’t do something-”

            Guinevere’s voice was cut off and followed by harsh static.

            Jace lowered his head into his hands and drooled slightly as he waited for the vomit to come.

            The city’s garrison force was throwing everything they could at the enemy, but the big guns weren’t in position and the smaller arms barely even scratched the paint.

            “Jace…” Callista’s voice sounded as if her words were being dragged out by force, “run.”

            Callista’s voice… during an operation. The fact it’s never happened before was enough to bring at least a few pieces of Jace’s mind back from the brink of ‘first-real-battle’ horror.

            He started screaming, spit now flying at the screens of the cockpit as opposed to pooling up on the metal flooring. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but he pushed on the control sticks.

            The enemy MAC’s torso swiveled and lowered its big gun directly at Jace while not letting up on its attempt to skewer Callista.

            A flash of light nearly blinded him and the percussive blast echoed deafeningly in the cockpit, seemingly staying long after the shot was fired, much like a stain. The jolt Jace felt was, he was sure, the last thing he would feel as his MAC turned into a small supernova that would char the surrounding cityscape.

            But after two beats of his heart, Jace was still alive. The status screen showed a hole on the shield, but the round was knocked off course while burrowing its way through, ending up shooting out straight between Jace’s legs.

            After two more heart beats, he collided with the enemy in mid-air, boosting him further up into the sky and away from Callista.

            Jace’s plan at this point was essentially non-existent. The enemy dropped the lance when they collided, but Jace managed to lose his own shotgun in the collision as well. His remaining batteries of rockets and missiles were either blocked from firing by his shield, or not in line with the enemy MAC.

            Jace could only think up one idea in such a short amount of time and with so few calm thoughts remaining.

            He detached his shield and used what little propellant he had to thrust his MAC backwards at a nearly life-threatening speed, almost breaking his own neck in the process. As the shield started to fall, Jace unleashed his entire payload of projectiles. At this close range, even the scrambling effects of a MAC wouldn’t be able to save the enemy pilot.

            About half hit his own shield due to Jace firing too early, but the other half struck true, cratering the frontal armor of the machine and blasting off both arms.

            But somehow it was still able to move. The main cannon leveled itself at the now propellant-less and slowly descending Jace.

            But before a flash of light blinded Jace again, surely signaling his death, Callista surged up from below and caught the enemy’s leg. Then, with some piloting skills Jace was certain he’d never see again, she spun the enemy MAC in a quick circle, looking a bit like a cartwheel, and released it on a sure-fire collision course with the ground.

            The MAC landed in a fairly empty portion of the city. A park-turned waste dump surrounded by department stores. There was a cloud of dust that covered the scene upon initial impact. Then, moments later, a massive explosion leveled most of the surrounding area. The dump-now-turned crater was a smoking mess with molten metal, a mixture of the city’s underground pipes and the machine itself, glowing like fresh gore through the dust cloud.

            “Jace,” Callista’s still rough and broken voice broke Jace out of his hypnotic trance, “thanks.”

            Now out of his trance, Jace began to fully grasp what he was just a part of.

            He slowly categorized his emotions and wasn’t sure what to make of them.

            He also was able to think about what this sort of attack meant for the city.

            And, most importantly, he was able to realize he’d pissed himself.