Trunner, Opilacca

Imbros III, Prefecture I

Republic of the Sphere

3 March 3133

Juanita Kwan's day got off to a terrible start when she woke up. After that, she knew it
could only get worse. No day that started with waking up could end well.

Muttering to herself, she killed the alarm and got out of bed. Glancing in the mirror, she
could see that she was, indeed, as she'd last seen, albeit bleary-eyed and drowsy looking.
Fit and athletic, her face betrayed a suggestion of Capellan origins with blue, almond-
shaped eyes on otherwise more traditionally European features. Her long black hair, dyed
bright green at the ends, was a scruffy mess.

"Wonderful start to the morning." She muttered to herself.

A quick shower (with lukewarm water, which was beginning to become a luxury in and
of itself) and she was dressed and out the door of her horrible, two-room hole in the wall
apartment. The hallway was just as shabby and run down as her room was, and, for that
matter, the rest of the building. Cracked floor tiles, peeling plaster, flickering or missing
lights; the whole deal. The building's owners were either too poor to look after it, or
didn't care. Either was possible.

On the upside, it made rent cheap. Something Juanita was glad for.

"Time for the festival of loathing and hatred that is my job" she commented as she took
the stairs down (lift out of order again), before stepping out onto the streets. Almost
immediately, she noticed the group, barely adults, lounging on a car parked by the kerb.
There were none of the expected wolf-whistles or taunts, one benefit of her otherwise
unfashionable hair colour. The green streaks were currently popular amongst the
Capellan street gangs as a way of openly showing one's loyalties.

And, since the Republic was clearly going to pot after only a few months without HPGs,
loyalty was becoming a real issue. It was good to have allies, even if only in the vaguest
sense. Especially in a place like this.

When one spoke of the successes of Devlin Stone's republic, they rarely mentioned
Imbros III. They certainly wouldn't mention Trunner, the planet's capitol. Never wealthy,
the world had been in a permanent economic depression since the end of the Jihad.
Between mass immigration courtesy of Stone's resettlement programs and substantial
redevelopment, it had only just begun to turn the corner in the last few years – and then
the HPG blackout had occurred, sending the planet's spluttering economy into a tailspin.
The combination of the economic meltdown and sudden resurgence of nationalism
amongst the populace had not ended well. There had been riots across the planet's major
cities; the worst in Trunner itself. There had been widespread damage and looting, and it
was only now, months after the fact, that rebuilding had begun in earnest.

In spite of all this, Juanita had a paying job. True, it was a loathsome and hateful dead-
end role that would never amount to anything, and that she would never receive any sort
of recognition for her efforts. Being a dishwasher was not glamorous work; rather, it was
the antithesis of such. However, it gave her an income, which was something that many
others here lacked. In these circumstances, she considered herself lucky to have that
much.

Besides, some days she received free bacon in addition to salary. Bacon made everything
better. It was a perk of working at Tharonja's at least.

As she walked down the street towards the bus stop, Juanita couldn't help but glance
around again at the damage wrought. Jordan had always been a low-class district at the
best of times, but even at its worst pre-crash it was better then this. A seemingly endless
field of bland, grey, nigh-identical high-rise apartment complexes dominated the streets

Of course, when one looked closer, they could see the more obvious signs of neglect.
Cracked pavement, potholed roads, planters that were either empty or sported wilted,
withered trees, strewn garbage and graffiti on any flat surface that came to hand. The odd
burned-out car, remnants of the riots that had been simply left to rust only added to the
feeling of desolation that permeated the area.

The Trunner city council had suggested that a major clean up would be in the offering.
However, given how much other reconstruction work needed to be done, Juanita figured
that the district here was way down the list. And she had no intention of waiting around
for that to happen.

I wish they'd just make their move and get on with it, she thought to herself as she
switched on her personal music player. The sooner I can quit waiting and get out of this
dump, the better. Saying that Juanita hated it would be like saying that the sun was hot;
no matter the words, it was an understatement.

Instead, she waited at the bus stop for the ride that would take her to her loathsome (but
bacon-compensated) job, listening to a collection of century-old songs to take her mind
off matters. Glancing around, she looked for any signs that today was going to be any
different from the innumerable others that she had drudged through.

And then, several blocks down, she spotted it. A pair of IndustrialMechs, trudging along
their allocated lanes, the bight yellow paint on their bodies standing out in amongst the
grey urban squalor. Glancing at them, she tried to make out the designs. "Harvester
AgroMech..." Juanita muttered as she looked at the first one. "And a Crosscut
ForestryMech. Well that ain't right."
Most people when they saw an IndustrialMech assumed that it was simply another piece
of machinery and left it at that. Few could tell one type of Industrial from another; while
many were obvious from the equipment they carried, the fact that they were so
commonplace meant that many would not even notice that much. Instead, the assumption
was that one Industrial was pretty much the same as another.

Juanita wasn't one of those types.

The bus forgotten, she instead rummaged in her pack, pulling out a pair of
electrobinoculars. Zooming in on the Harvester, she could immediately tell that nobody
was paying attention to the equipment that the particular mech was carrying. While its
left arm sported the typical harvester that was normal for its type, the right arm loading
claw seemed to be absent; in its place was what looked suspiciously like a weapon
nozzle.

Glancing over at the Crosscut, her suspicions were confirmed. Again the typical
chainsaw was in place as expected, but the right arm lifter was absent. What was there
were several panels that were doing a passable job of concealing a short-barred
Autocannon. If they didn't know what to look for, a casual observer wouldn't notice the
difference; however, Juanita knew the exact signs.

"Definitely not right." She continued as she began to walk down the street, doing her best
to watch the two mechs. Since the collapse of the HPG network, arming industrials and
pressing them into action had been one of the tactics of the nationalist militia groups that
had sprung up. While their military value was often dubious, they had a number of
advantages. Camouflage was one of them – it was often hard to tell what was an armed
militiaman and what was an innocent bystander until they started shooting.

She pulled out her PersCom and punched in a number. "Mister Yummy's Hot Dog Cart."
The cheerful man on the other end began. "We'll give you the best wiener you've ever
had."

"Very funny Antonin" Juanita replied without a hint of humour. "It's me."

"What's up?" He continued, his tone friendly and conversational still.

"I think they're making a move." She stated, speeding up her step. "I have a pair of
Industrials, a Crosscut and a Harvester, heading north on Alvaka. Both are armed."

"I see." His tone dropped. "Think it's the capitol?"

"Pretty sure." She concluded. "I'll see what I can do here, but you may want to try
something at your end as well."

"Understood." He finished. "Call me when you have an update."

She ended the call without replying, stowing her com in her pocket. The Industrials were
several streets back, and definitely moving faster then she could run. Time to examine her
options.

Reaching the next crossroad, she calmly waited for the lights to change, one eye still on
the retreating Industrials. As soon as they changed, she calmly stepped out onto the road,
then grabbed a pistol from inside her jacket. A quick dash bought her over to the car
door, which she yanked open while levelling the gun at the driver.

"Out" It was a simple demand. The driver, a man probably no more than twenty-five and
looking well out of his depth nodded frantically, all but stumbling out of the car as he did.
Wasting no time, she clambered in, putting her food down as soon as the door was
closed. The electric engine whined as it was pushed to speed, the car taking off against
the lights.

Juanita swerved the car around a sharp turn, heading after the two Industrials. It slid,
scrabbling on the asphalt for purchase for a moment before following through. Inwardly,
Juanita grunted, unhappy with her choice of car, knowing full well that she could have
gotten better had she not been in a hurry. The Zizzin Tanto was best described as a
"plastic crap-box on wheels" and had few positive attributes beyond being cheap. But it
would work for what she needed it for.

The car sprinted down street, Juanita feeling every bump, crack and pothole in the road's
surface courtesy of the car's crappy suspension. Gripping the wheel, she swerved in and
out of the traffic, trying to get the best out of the performance available. Horns wailed in
the background as other drivers expressed their displeasure at her cutting through them or
across intersections.

She had no doubt that the driver had gotten a fair look at her, enough to put together a
description for the police. She also figured that, after today, a carjacking conviction
would be the least of her worries.

The tyres squealed in protest as she pulled a second sharp corner, cutting into the broad
main drive through the district. The central two lanes of the road were widened and
reinforced, designed specifically for use by IndustrialMechs. Ahead, the two machines
she had spotted were trudging forward, moving in an almost casual way in an obvious
effort to disguise their true intent.

However, she wasn't bothering. Abandoning all pretence, she sprinted the Tanto as fast as
it would go towards the two machines, closing on the Crosscut at the rear. She had two
advantages over the pair of them; the first was that they didn't know she was coming. The
second was that they were still keeping cover, and, as such, had to obey the road rules –
which still applied to them, IndustrialMechs or not.

Sure enough, a golden opportunity presented itself. The Harvester strode through an
intersection, while the Crosscut behind it was stopped by a change of traffic light. Seeing
her chance, she bought the Tanto to a skidding halt next to the machine. Forgetting the
traffic, she instead reached into her satchel, grabbing a charcoal-grey cylinder and
wrapping its strap around her arm while holstering her pistol.

The Schofield SKRW Maghook was a brilliant piece of hardware, one that had served
Juanita well on numerous occasions. Opening the door of the Tanto, she stepped out,
pointing it at the Crosscut's shoulder. With a squeeze of the button on the base its
magnetized head shot off, trailing the nanofiber cable behind it. After it latched onto the
IndustrialMech's shoulder with a satisfying clank, she pressed a second button.

Two things happened at once, one expected, the other not so much so. The cable began to
retract into the Maghook, launching Juanita up the side of the mech. Unfortunately, it
also began to move again at the same time, causing her to lose her footing. Her easy
ascent suddenly turned into a frantic scrabble for purchase, running the risk of tumbling
back to the ground. Gritting her teeth and grabbing as firm a hold of the hook as possible,
she swung herself back, only barely managing to avoid slamming herself face-first into
the machine.

What seemed like an eternity (but was probably well less then a minute) later, Juanita
pulled herself up onto the shoulder of the Crosscut, managing to get a firm hold of one of
the mech's built in handholds, purposed designed to allow the pilot to enter his machine
in the field. Stowing the Maghook, she crawled across the shoulder to the cockpit. Inside,
the operator was clearly focused on running his machine, and hadn't noticed the woman
crawling along its side. His fault.

She grabbed the access hatch, yanking it open. Many IndustrialMech operators left them
unlocked at the best of times, simply to give them a way to get out of the machine if
something went wrong. The pilot gave a grunt of surprise as she did, turning to come face
to face with her pistol. One look at him told her that whoever he was, he certainly was no
ordinary operator.

Scruffy, unkempt and unshaven, his face bore a broken nose and at least one scar. His
bare arms displayed a number of prison tattoos, as well as one she couldn't immediately
place; a black handprint on a red field.

"Get out" She demanded, knowing full well that, in the cramped confines of the
Forestrymech cockpit his options were very limited; he could either comply with her, or
just keep driving and risk her blowing his brains out. Instead, he took a third option, and
lunged at her, content to leave the machine to look after itself.

He was fast; she was faster. She ducked under his lunge, grabbing him as he went, then
pushing forward herself. His back slammed into the canopy frame with a hard thud that
seemed to knock the wind out of him – seemed, as a meaty fist slammed into her side.
Still holding her grip, she slammed him into the side of the cockpit again, then followed it
up with the best close-in move she knew – a knee to the groin.
That had the desired effect. He stumbled, then she shoved him aside. The combination of
that and the mech's momentum did the rest; he fell off the back of the machine.

Juanita didn't stick around to watch; instead she clambered into the cockpit, closing and
securing the access panel. Inside, she gave a quick once-over of the systems; the normal
IndustrialMech controls were largely present, with several of the secondary ones replaced
with a military-style Multi Function Display. Checking the system status, she could see
that the mech had been refitted with a military-grade targeting system, which was being
in turn used to control a Mydron Snakekiller Light Autocannon in the Forestrymech's
right arm.

This is a professional job, no doubt about it. She concluded as she looked over the
controls. Whoever modded this one was no back-alley operator. No, this had to have
been done professionally. She knew what she was looking at, and this was good work. So
what are they up to?

She toggled the MFD through its display settings, switching to the Navigation. At
present, the Forestrymech was headed to what was tagged as Nav Delta. A quick check
placed said Nav-point just a block back from the Planetary capitol building. Well that's
no coincidence.

Pulling out her perscomm, she hit the last number. "Antonin, it's me." She began, not
waiting for him to respond. "I... borrowed the Crosscut. It's been modded with a LAC,
and it's definitely a professional job... and it's headed for the planetary capitol."

"Understood." He stated. "For now, just keep to your current course. I'll rendezvous and
we can work something out from there."

"Roger that." She gave a wry smile. "I guess you can call this some 'Grand Theft Agro'."

There was a pause. "What?"

She blinked. "Like... Grand theft auto. Only with an Agromech."

"You're in a Forestrymech." He flatly replied.

"Well it was a good joke!" She replied, rather defensively. "Anyway, that aside, looks
like you're finally getting your money's worth out of me. Just don't forget the rest."

New Madrid, Barcelona

Poznan, Prefecture V

Republic of the Sphere

26 June 3132
As far as Juanita knew, there was a Tharonja's restaurant on just about every planet in the
Republic. It was a chain of restaurants that offered entirely serviceable food; not brilliant
but far from terrible at the same time. Certainly, nobody important or interesting ever
went to a Tharonja's, which made it a great place for a wanted criminal to meet someone
and know that they weren't likely to be seen by anyone who they didn't want to be seen
by.

That suited her perfectly.

She strolled in, looking confident and casual, acting like she owned the place. Plopping
down at a booth, she made an act of studying the menu for whole seconds before the
waitress turned up.

"I'll have the Tharonja's Deluxe Double Bacon Burger with a side of fries." She all but
demanded, not bothering to look at the waitress. "And a Novos-Soda."

Ignoring the waitress' reply, she instead scanned the room. Two days ago, someone had
called her, which was a surprise in and of itself. Her number was something she rarely
gave out, and she knew who had it. This voice on the other end had not been one of those,
which both intrigued and concerned her. He'd arranged to meet her, and let her pick the
time and place. She'd said here because of its relative anonymity. That and the burgers
were good.

What concerned her more was that he'd stated that he had a proposition for her, a
potential line of employment. Given what her current job was and what other people may
hire her for, she found that most intriguing. Curiosity had overcome caution, and she'd
decided to make the meet. Even then, she'd taken precautions.

The waitress arrived with her drink, Juanita all but looking past her to study the rest of
the room. A figure caught her attention; a man who had just stepped in, conspicuous in
his inconspicuous approach. Dressed in what could be described as 'business casual', he
had a slender face and long black hair tied into a loose ponytail. To top it all off, he was
wearing sunglasses indoors.

That's got to be him. She tensed up, ready to take off if needed.

He sat down, nodding to her. "Juanita Kwan, correct?"

"Yeah, and who wants to know?" She shot him a critical glance.

He took off his sunglasses, revealing narrow brown eyes. "My name is Antonin Rybak".
He began. "I've been following your work for some time."

"Yeah, and how'd you get this number?" She stated. "It's not something I casually throw
about."
"Money talks." He offered. "I'm sure that in your line of work you'd know that already."

"My line of work." She snorted derisively. "What do you know about it?"

"Chicken BLT please." He casually dropped at a passing waitress, before turning back to
Juanita. "Quite a lot, actually. Like I said, I have been following your work for some
time. That's what bought you to my attention. You have skills that I would find useful."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you do, Ms Kwan." He countered. "You and I both know that your current
line of work is far from legal and that it's attracted a lot of attention that I'm sure you
don't really want."

"Like what?"

"Like your little escapade the other day." He explained. "The one that made front-page
across the whole city. That sort of attention."

She nodded slowly. "Well, since I have no idea what you're talking about, you'll have to
enlighten me." Fake innocence was obvious in her speech.

"I'm referring to your last joy-ride, Juanita", he began.

"What joyride?"

"You stole a Carbine ConstructionMech-"

"Borrowed." She countered. "I was going to bring it back."

"And went on a joyride through the city, doing thousands of C-Bills damage." He
continued, not missing a beat.

"I was checking its gyro calibration. Good thing too, as it was way off."

"Including stepping on the Mayor's limo"

"That was an accident."

"You could be heard laughing from the ground."

"I heard something funny on the radio." It was more of an admission of surrender then an
attempt at defence in weight of the evidence.

"Let's not mess around, ms 'Zoom-Zoom' Kwan." His tone was factual, but not forceful,
but the use of her nickname suggested that he knew more then he'd let on so far. "You
already have a pre-existing juvenile criminal record. You also have numerous other
minor and petty convictions, and we both know that the authorities are just looking for a
way to make it all stick."

She glanced away from him, the guilt obvious. Regardless, he continued. "You dropped
out of high school and even then were a chronic underperformer. You have no formal
training and no qualifications. Your career choices are largely limited to a life of future
crime or a long stay in prison – and the two are far from mutually exclusive."

Again she said nothing, letting the words sink in. "Despite this, Juanita Kwan, you are
clearly skilled, resourceful and intelligent. While you have no formal accreditation, you
are a skilled IndustrialMech operator, and you know enough to successfully break into
one, over-ride its safety systems and then get it moving."

"And if that was not enough, you have made a career out of it." He stated. "You steal
IndustrialMechs. Most of the time you seem to be in the pay of others; stealing Industrials
and dropping them off for money. Other times, like the aforesaid moment, you seem to be
a joy-rider; you steal an Industrial for the simple sake of it, do some damage and leave it
abandoned."

"You have kept ahead of the law, yes, but as I said, that cannot last forever. Nor have you
left many options open for yourself. Have you, at any point, considered what you would
do with your life otherwise?"

There was a long silence, punctuated only by a loud slurping from Juanita as she finished
off the last of her soda. "Not... not really." She admitted. Looking out the window, and
avoiding his gaze, she stared at the traffic instead.

"Now given that, as said, you are a lot smarter then you act, I'm also sure that you are
aware of this fact. You just simply chose to ignore it. In fact, some less generous
individuals might suggest that you were trying to get yourself killed rather than face up to
your lack of options."

"Well..." She began, but again trailed off.

"Now I am sure you have some justifying argument." He stated. "I'll admit that I've
looked into your background, but not too far. I am sure that you have some motivation –
real or imagined – in there. However, I am not going to judge you on that. In fact, I really
don't care for your past."

She turned to look at him, an angry glare in her eyes. "So what the hell do you want,
ponytail?" Her voice was rising, her temper fraying. Weather it was at his frank
assessment and how much the truth of it hurt, or if it was at his dismissal of her reasoning
was up for debate. Either way, she didn't like it.

"Simply put, I want you for your skills and knowledge. I want to employ you."
She flopped back in her seat. "So hang on here." Juanita started. "You first point out that
what I'm doing is wrong and bad, and then state that I have no future in continuing to do
it. Then you tell me you want me to do more of it." She cocked her head. "You're sending
out mixed signals here, ponytail."

"If I may explain more thoroughly?"

"Go for it." She shot back. "This should be good."

"You steal Industrials for a living. And yet, have you never once wondered who's buying
all of them or why?"

"Should I?" She shrugged. "They pay me. That's all I care."

"How's about this." He offered. "I can offer you a full-time job with a salary. In return for
that, you will serve as an investigator of sorts, helping me trace back every last
IndustrialMech you've stolen. From there, if that works out, I'll keep you on for other
such investigations and, where needed, to use your particular skills."

"Sounds good, but I'm gonna need more." She leaned in close, studying his face. "You're
asking me to squeal on people who have been good to me so far. And I'm not going to do
that for nothing."

"Entirely fair." The man acknowledged. "So I have another incentive for you, Juanita
Kwan. Work for me and I'll make you more than just an IndustrialMech thief. I'll make
you a full MechWarrior – with all that it entails."

She blinked at his reply, at a loss for words. Under Stone's disarmament programs, Mech
armies had been massively downsized, with many mechs simply scrapped. Real
MechWarriors, ones who piloted real BattleMechs, were a rare and privileged elite. The
prestige and power in their position alone was incentive enough to drive anyone to aspire
to be amongst their ranks.

And his words suggested more. A real BattleMech; not just a modified industrial. To
have such wealth, such power... it was something she had never dreamed of. And he was
offering it to her.

"Tell me more." She finally spoke up, a hungry, excited tone in her voice.

Trunner, Opilacca

Imbros III, Prefecture I

Republic of the Sphere

3 March 3133
Modifying an IndustrialMech to be a combat platform had been an option for almost as
long as there had been IndustrialMechs to modify. After all, the first true BattleMechs
had been developed from Industrial technologies.

However, such modifications were far from easy. Anyone could chop off an industrial
backhoe and slap an autocannon on in its place; however, the end result would be
anything but effective. An IndustrialMech lacked the fire control systems that would
make the weapon useful in combat, and a poorly mounted cannon would probably rip
itself off when fired.

However, what Juanita saw in the cockpit of the Crosscut was a professional
modification job. The first and most obvious change was the addition of a military-grade
fire control system. It had been well integrated into its systems too; while its controsl
were intact, the ForestryMech's original displays had been largely removed to make way
for several modern multi-function displays. Quickly flipping through them told her that
the mech was armed and equipped for battle.

And, while she couldn't tell for sure from the cockpit, she was willing to bet that the
armour had been reinforced or otherwise modified; certainly she expected that it wasn't
the usual commercial-grade plate covering the mech. Whoever had paid for this machine
to be modified had wanted a top-notch job, and so far it seemed that they had gotten their
money's worth.

Which was also a bad thing. She figured that the Harvester ahead of her had also been
modified to the same degree. Of course, this also meant that whoever had purchased the
modifications- and possibly the machines themselves – had put a lot of money and effort
into this little program. Which, combined with the obvious criminal who had been
piloting the Crosscut before she stole it, did not bode well at all.

Yeah, this is a big operation all right. She pressed a few buttons on the MFD controls,
cycling through displays. They're moving armed Industrials on the capitol. Now if I
figure this right... She pushed the throttle open, the Crosscut moving with the traffic.
Most people won't pay attention to IndustrialMechs. They won't notice when there's a
dummy concealing a cannon or a missile launcher. And they won't notice when the work
crews are actually surrounding the capitol until they give the go signal and move in. That
buys them time, and the element of surprise.

She figured that these Industrials wouldn't be the entirety of the operation. These people –
whoever they were – had probably smuggled in infantry as well. They could have
disguised them as work crews, hidden them in amongst the civilians working on repairing
the damage done by the riots. Their weapons could be disguised or stored in place of their
equipment, and their vehicles could serve as a form of transport.

This wasn't some crude attack or hastily thrown together force. No, this was a rather well-
planned operation, with an obvious goal. Someone's making a bid for Imbross. And this is
a part of it. Which, she realised, meant that she had to stop it.
Right. What I do is follow the Harvester there. I keep my profile low until I figure out
what's going on. Then I can open up in their midst and throw off whatever it is they're
planning. They won't be expecting one of their own to open up on them, and it will allow
me to get a better look at what they're planning. Simple.

The communicator in the mech's cockpit beeped loudly, throwing her out of her train of
thought. More worryingly, she realised that it would be one of the other members of the
assault force, and that they'd be expecting a man to answer them. A big, burly man who
had spent time in prison and had way too many tattoos. One whom she had no idea what
he sounded like beyond a few grunts. On the other hand, not answering would only ask
more questions.

She warily activated the communicator, figuring that she'd come up with a reply. "Savage
Four, this is Savage Three. Get the lead out back there."

Looking ahead, she could see the Harvester still advancing, not turning to look at her
mech. She could also see that her own mech was falling behind; the fight with the pilot
had held it up.

"Savage four, are you there? What's going on?" The pilot's tone was angry and
demanding. Clearly they weren't going to take complete silence for an answer. "Is there a
problem with your mech?"

Despite their tone, they were maintaining the Harvester's course and heading. Clearly
they were intent on keeping their cover for as long as possible, regardless of what may or
may not have happened to their compatriot. Doubtless a 'no response' would be taken as a
sign of trouble.

So instead she lined up the Harvester's rear in her sights. Flicking a switch on the fire
control panel released the dummy housing around the Autocannon, leaving the barrel
exposed and ready to fire, as well as incredibly visible. Then, as soon as the weapon
showed as green on the status board, she opened fire.

The Crosscut rocked with the recoil of the weapon's fire, while the roar of the
Autocannon filled the cockpit. The stream of shells leaped from the barrel, tearing into
the back of the Harvester and shredding the flimsy rear armour. The mech stumbled, then
its legs locked up as its gyro was apparently destroyed by her attack. Momentum did the
rest, with the converted AgroMech slamming face-first into the pavement.

However, that wasn't enough for her. She pushed the throttle open, the Crosscut
powering forward. The heavy pounding of the metal-shod feet on the pavement counted
down the distance to the fallen Harvester as Juanita drove her IndustrialMech forward, its
operator driven by an almost hungry desire. Twisting the controls, she swung its foot
around in a broad kick that slammed into the Harvester's right shoulder.
There was a satisfying crunch of metal as the shoulder shattered and collapsed, the arm
twisting out of shape, metal bones snapping under the force of the blow. Convinced that
the limb and its weapon were useless, she looked around to take in the situation.

Around the two IndustrialMechs, the streets were in chaos. Cars were swerving away off
the main streets, their drivers panicking at the carnage that was unfolding. Several had
already collided, forming knots and clumps in the traffic flow that would inevitably spiral
outwards and multiply in their disruption. Others, pedestrians, were simply running,
looking for any cover that they could find from the battle that had broken out on the
streets.

By now, they would be reaching for their personal communicators, calling the police, the
emergency services, city hall or their mothers. It was what happened when she boosted an
IndustrialMech and took it for a joyride. It meant that there would be police on the streets
looking for her and, when they found their target, pursuing it. It also meant that all of a
sudden, the top secret operation that whoever this IndustrialMech had belonged to were
planning was about to get a lot of attention.

Turning the Crosscut back towards the nave point, she again opened up the throttle. Road
rules and speed limits no longer applied; she was staying in the IndustrialMech lane out
of sheer convenience to avoid the traffic. Leaving the wrecked Harvester behind, she
instead stormed towards the capitol as fast as the mech's engine could go.

The comms system was flooded with chatter with orders being flung back and forth. She
could hear someone shouting; focusing, she could tell that it was the Harvester pilot,
shouting about what had happened. A shout for silence filled the channel, which managed
to dispel the chatter for a moment.

"Savage Four, are you there?" A single voice cut through, its tone demanding. "Savage
Four, what is your status?" Juanita chose not to reply; doing such would give her a few
precious seconds of time before they figured out that she had hijacked the mech. Those
seconds could make all the difference.

"Savage Four, respond now." This was no longer a request, it was an order. She chose to
ignore it, focusing instead on driving the ForestryMech forward, getting as much time as
she could.

"Very well, Savage Four – or whoever you are. The Band of Five does not tolerate
treachery." The channel went ominously silent.

Juanita swallowed nervously, suddenly shaken. She'd stolen plenty of IndustrialMechs

before and received plenty of warnings from the authorities to stand down. However, at
the same time, she also knew that they would try any means possible to stop, contain or
halt without resorting to lethal force. The Band of Five (whoever they were) clearly was
going straight for the most immediate and definitive solution to the problem.
"Hey Ponytail" Juanita began as she activated her own communicator. "They're onto us. I
had to blow my cover, but this also means that there's going to be a lot of noise about
these guys across town in a minute."

"Roger that." Antonin shot back. "Any ID on these attackers?"

"They're called the 'Band of Five'. Sound familiar?"

There was a pause. "Vaguely. I'll check back later. Out."

Without the chatter from the Band of Five's channels (she presumed that they had cut her
off to stop her from throwing their plans further) or her own communicator, the only
sound was the heavy footfalls of the running ForestryMech. Around her, the traffic
continued to part and peel off, drivers desperate to get away from the obviously armed
maniac who wanted to turn their city into a warzone. She hazarded that news would be
spreading already and drivers would be directed away from Alvaka boulevard where she
was advancing.

She still hadn't figured out what she would do when she got to the capitol. She hoped that
should she encounter more members of the Band of Five that she'd have a few moments
of confusion on her side while the other guy tried to figure out who she was. From her
point of view, it was safe to assume that any other armed Industrials she came across
were hostile.

Searching around the cockpit, Juanita wished that whoever had chopped this Industrial
had chosen to retain its civilian radio. While usually she liked music when she was
driving, this time she wanted to channel-hop and see if she could get some idea as to what
was going on and how the authorities were reacting.

Something else caught her eye; up ahead, a pair of trucks, ten-ton models from the look
of them, had turned onto the road from an intersection, going against the flow of the
traffic. Instead of fleeing, the pair of them were advancing towards her, moving at speed.
"The hell?" She muttered as they barged past the smaller vehicles, their drivers clearly
having no regard for other road users or traffic laws. As they advanced, the canvas tops
over their cargo beds were released, abandoned by the drivers.

The pair of them stopped, one on each side of the street. As she advanced, a realisation
came to Juanita, one that she had made and then dismissed days ago. I have seen a lot of
ten-ton trucks around here of late.

A high-pitched siren blared from the Crosscut's control systems, indicating a missile
lock. Moments later, the backs of the two trucks erupted into smoke as their LRM
launchers fired, sending a score of missiles at her mech. The Crosscut shook as several of
them hit home, tearing into the machine's weak armour. Warning lights flashed on,
Juanita choosing to ignore them for the moment.
Instead, she re-activated the communicator as she pressed the mech forward. "Hey
Ponytail, bad news!"

"...no, I'd say Pogata may be behind us" he replied, somewhat distracted sounding.

"Ponytail?" She asked as she opened fire with the Autocannon. Shells tore into one of the
trucks, ripping the vehicle's front end apart.

"Sorry about that, miles away." He offered, unconvincingly. "What's up?"

"Add armed trucks to their inventory" She called out, his comment out of her mind
almost immeditely. "I've got a pair of ten-tonners here spewing out LRMs at me." A roar
of missiles underscored her point, a flight only narrowly missing her mech. Ahead, the
truck began to back up, wary of the destruction of its comrade.

"Understood." He finished. "I'll keep an eye open."

"Yeah, sure. Just hurry up and get your arse in gear." She snapped. "Otherwise your little
protégée is gonna be a dead woman real quick."

Trunner, Opilacca

Imbros III, Prefecture I

Republic of the Sphere

1 February 3133

"Well this place sucks" Juanita muttered to herself as she stomped up the stairs. In truth,
she had been far from impressed with Trunner ever since she and Antonin had arrived on-
planet. While New Madrid had not been one of the nicest cities in the Republic by any
means, it was a paradise next to Trunner.

The whole city had a look of run-down neglect, as if nobody cared for it any more. There
had clearly been large scale riots in the recent past; lots of burn-out cars, smashed
storefronts, gutted buildings and the like. And while she'd seen signs of rebuilding –
specifically lots of ConstructionMechs – it was clear that the amount of work so far was
dwarfed by what was still to come.

"So why are we here, Ponytail?" She asked as she followed him up the stairs of the run-
down apartment complex. After they'd arrived on-world, he'd driven her across town to
what had to be the seediest, most run-down and decrepit apartment district she'd ever
seen. And, from there, he'd taken her to what she presumed was the crappiest building in
the district.
The plain, generic architecture wasn't enough to make it bad, of course. Peeling paint on
the walls, unidentifiable stains on the carpet, cracked tiles, missing lights... this place had
it all. It was like a smorgasbord of everything wrong with housing projects, both in
design and habitation. She figured they were taking the stairs simply because the lift was
out of order, and probably had been for decades. Now all this place needs is an overhead
rail going past it and it'll have the lot.

"This is the place." Antonin began as he stopped in front of one apartment. The door was
no shabbier or neater than any other on a floor that was no better or worse than any other.
Opening it, he stepped inside, allowing her into the apartment.

The nicest thing she could say about it was that it was furnished, albeit for rather
generous values of 'furnished'. Whomever had provided for it had apparently done so by
buying from salvage and thrift stores; everything had a bettered and worn look, with
several pieces looking like they had been repaired or patched with other parts. That the
lights actually came on seemed a miracle, until she realised that it served to only
highlight just how crappy and run-down the apartment was.

"So what do you think?" Antonin asked.

"I think the place stinks, Ponytail" She stated. "It's a run-down cesspool in the middle of a
run-down cesspool with no redeeming features whatsoever. It's a horrible hole in the
ground that nobody in their right mind would want to live in."

He gave an amused grin, which took her back. "What?" She asked. "What's so damn
funny that we tramped halfway across the republic to look at a toilet like this?"

"The place is yours, Juanita" he replied, frankly. "The rent and utilities are all paid for, so
you can use as much as the local supply will allow for. Food and such will be paid out of
an account I've set up. I also have a job for you. It's not much, but in the local economy,
having a job is a luxury. You're a dishwasher at a local Tharonjas; you start on Monday."

She blinked at his statement. "You what?" She began. "You dragged me halfway across
the Republic for a hole in the ground apartment and a crappy dead-end job?" The anger
was obvious in her voice, her tone rising. "If this is meant to be some object lesson about
my future if I stick to my life of crime, then you're going to insane lengths for it,
Ponytail."

In response, he laughed, which only made her angrier still. "You're close to the mark, ms
Kwan." He stated. "Yes, this is related to your life of crime. No, it's not some form of
bizarre punishment. Trust me, there is a point to it."

He sat down at what could be charitably called the dinner table, offering her a seat.
Dumping her pack – which contained most of her worldly goods, she sat down next to
him. "So talk to me, Ponytail. What's the big deal?"
"All things in good time." He stated. "And yes, the training you went through was for a
point. I want you to be able to handle a mech in battle and, if needs be, its weapons
systems. But for now, your reason for being here is related to your old life"

She didn't like the way he said 'old life', but let him continue. "A number of the
IndustrailMechs you were paid to steal were purchased by a single buyer, albeit through
third parties. I traced a number of them to this one world, but the trail went cold there."

He looked her in the eye. "That's where you come in. Someone has to have a good reason
for shipping a number of black market Industrials to a single planet. I personally suspect
that, along the way, they've put more then a few of them through combat modifications –
arming them, equipping them with military-grade electronics and so on. And they
probably have a very, very good reason for that."

She nodded. "And you want me to find out why."

"Exactly." He finished. "While I know you are not local to Imbross, at the same time, you
have a lot of experience in the field of IndustrialMech theft and the underground industry
around it. Your task will be to infiltrate the local crime scene and to find out what's going
on."

"And, if needs be, to steal the Industrials back?" She spoke up.

"Exactly." He finished. "We have no idea what they're doing. But I want every means to
deal with it that's available to me."

"So we assume that someone's building a private army." She leaned forward, propping
her chin on her hand. "You don't think the Imbross militia is up to handling it?"

"Debatable" Antonin shook his head. "The militia has been chronically underfunded for
years. Their equipment is run-down, their troop quality lacking and their response times
are non-existent. Added to that, since the blackout they've been bleeding off troops to
private recruiters. If someone were to launch a surprise attack on the city, then they
would be hard pressed to mount an effective resistance."

"So in other words, if the bad guys do something, I'd be the first line of defence." She
offered.

"If you can find them"

"Oh trust me, I will." She shot back.

"Excellent work. I'll be working here as well, so I'll never be out of contact. I'll give you a
communicator with my number programmed in, and if you need anything else-"

"Well-"
"-Within reason-"

"Poop" She finished.

"-then let me know and I'll do what I can. Your job is just a cover to help obscure the trail
coming from it. But who knows, you may learn something there."

"Yeah, that I hate washing dishes." She smirked.

"So is there anything else you need?" He asked.

"One question. Why set me up in this hellhole? I'm sure you could do better."

He laughed. "Because a girl in a nice house with a cushy job asking about stolen
Industrials would look way, way to suspicious. But one who is barely scraping by with a
dead-end job while living in a hellhole? You're a natural."

"Point." She admitted. "I'll give you that much. But this had better be worth it, Ponytail"

"I'm sure it will be." He finished.

Trunner, Opilacca

Imbros III, Prefecture I

Republic of the Sphere

3 March 3133

"Yeah, I know, this is all my fault" Juanita muttered to herself as she drove the battered
Crosscut forward. "Sholulda not fallen into a life of crime, shoulda not gone around
stealing Industrials for money, shoulda not so on and so forth." She snarled. "And yeah,
Ponytail, it's not like this is all my fault. If I hadn't have stolen those Industrials then
someone else woulda. True, they wouldn't have done as good a job as me..."

She was talking to herself and was acutely aware of it. She didn't know why; possibly it
was some attempt at self-justification in the face of the damage being done that she was
partially responsible for. While she was at fault for what had happened, she could not
have ever known that this was the eventual aim of those that had employed her in past.
For all she knew, they could have been stolen on the orders of an eccentric collector. Or
someone else.

Definitely not someone who would plan on building a small army to take control of a
planetary capitol. And they would have been collecting them since before the collapse of
the HPG network, which is something nobody could have planned on.
She shook her head. This was a pointless exercise. What she should focus on was not
that, nor what she was going to tell Antonin afterwards. She had other, more pressing
concerns right now.

The two missile trucks had managed to strip her Crosscut of a quarter of its already
flimsy armour, which was not a good start. And she still was yet to catch up with the
main body of the enemy force. "Screw it. I'll deal with it when it happens." Instead she
focused on keeping the ForestryMech moving, pushing it ahead so she could deal with
the rest of their force.

After all, this was a part of what she had been hired for.

Glancing between the navigational display and her surroundings told her that she was
closing on the capitol district. The cluttered buildings were giving way to free-standing
structures, the dense streets to broad parkways and avenues. Possibly more eye-catching
were the pillars of smoke rising from around the capitol district; sure signs that the
attackers had already put their plan into motion – or, at the very least, been forced to by
her own actions.

The Crosscut continued to power forward; on her tactical display, Juanita could see
numerous green dots indicating friendly forces moving toward the Capitol Building itself.
Of course, those would have been friendlies at the time that the Crosscut had been
prepped for the mission. Which meant that, right now, those green dots were hostile. And
there were a lot of them.

To make matters worse, she could see that they were already engaged with the militia
forces. And those forces would see her as being just as hostile as the ones they were
already engaged with.

"Screw it. No better plan." The Crosscut charged forward towards the battle, bearing
down on a DemoltionMech that was making its way towards the outer walls. The mech
looked to be unmodified, its operators probably having kept it in its original form
specifically for this role. Running towards the mech, she opened fire with her
Autocannon, the shells tearing into the mech's side. The mech staggered, but managed to
retain its footing for the moment.

Lacking any ranged weapons, the DemolitionMech's pilot seemed to be at a loss for what
to do. The machine backed up, away from the breach it had made in the wall, presumably
looking for some cover from its compatriots. As it did, a Fox armoured car dated out
from behind a damaged section of wall, its medium laser slashing at the
DemoltionMech's side. The IndustrialMech twisted around, trying to follow the small
hovercraft.

Seconds later, a Shandra Scout Car followed it, followed by a Ranger infantry support
vehicle. The Shandra exploited the opening made by Juanita and the Fox, SRMs
peppering the DemoltionMech's rear. I made an opening. Good start. Despite what had
happened, she couldn't help but smile to herself. Taking another shot at the damaged
DemolitionMech, she was rewarded by the machine staggering backwards, black smoke
belching out from the gaping wound in its side.

Figuring the wounded DemoltionMech to not be a threat for the moment, she took a
chance to glance around and take in the situation. A jagged line of IndustrialMechs were
surrounding the capitol building, but their formation was ragged and uneven; what had
likely been a well-planned advance thrown into chaos with the need to act suddenly.
Several trucks, similar to the ones she had seen on the road were amongst them, while
men on foot cluttered around their legs. On paper, it had looked like a good plan. It just
hadn't factored in someone stealing one of their mechs and opening fire.

For their part, the Militia were spread out; light vehicles and infantry doing their best to
get in amongst the attacker's forces. That the enemy hadn't counted on this happening was
obvious; their forces were staggered and strung out, forced to deal with a prepared and
alert enemy. What Juanita had to do was make it work.

She pushed forwards again, spotting a modified Powerman LoaderMech spewing

missiles at the militia forces. Several of them struck the Shandra's flank, tearing through
its thin armour. One of the vehicles' wheels tore free from its body, sending the crippled
unit skidding across the courtyard in front of the capitol building.

Throwing the Crosscut into a run, she charged at the offending Industrial. The
Autocannon barked again, rounds tearing into the Powerman's side. Wounded, the
damaged LoaderMech turned to face her, opening up with its twin SRM launchers on her
mech. A half-dozen missiles hit home, rocking her machine and sending it staggering
back. A high-pitched beep filled the cockpit, warning her that the armour had been
breached.

"Not good" she muttered as she fought to keep the mech going in spite of the damage.
Unlike a BattleMech, an IndustrialMech was not fitted with any sort of ejection system;
the pilot had no way to leave the machine in a hurry. And a mech filled with volatile fuel
and potentially explosive ammunition with rapidly thinning armour amounted to a
considerable risk to her continued health.

Backing off to make the most of her range advantage, she opened fire again. The Light
Autocannon's rounds slammed into the Powerman's chest, the impact enough to throw
the pilot off his aim. While the mech remained standing, its SRMs went wide of her,
instead slamming into the nearby parkland, sending clumps of dirt and grass flying.

And then, to her surprise, the Powerman's right side exploded into a hail of torn metal
and parts, sending its right arm spinning off and crashing to the ground. A moment later,
a laser sliced into its right leg, causing the battered Industrialmech to stagger and crumple
to one knee. Savaged, the machine was still barely in the fight. More concerning to
Juanita was to wonder what had just happened to it.
Her answer appeared moments later as a massive Behemoth II MBT crawled out from
amongst the rubble, its twin turret-mounted cannons tracking the wounded Powerman.
Militia infantry rallied around it, soldiers opening fire on the wounded LoaderMech and
others in the field, their confidence likely boosted by the presence of the massive tank.
Juanita knew that the Behemoth, if left unchecked, could probably destroy a good amount
of the attacking force on its own.

Peppered with fire from the infantrymen, the already crippled Powerman swayed and
shuddered, the operator clearly fighting to keep the machine upright while trying to get
away from the huge MBT. As the industrial staggered away, another machine, a Crosscut
advanced towards the tank. Unlike her autocannon-armed refit, the tools on the ends of its
arms replaced with a pair of boxy mounts.

As of to answer her unspoken query about the nature of its modifications, the modified
ForestryMech's arms blossomed into clouds of fire and smoke. Some four score rockets
corkscrewed into the Behemoth, shredding its armour and flank. That tank shuddered as
smoke began to leak from its ruined hull. Then, abruptly, it simply exploded, blossoming
into a brilliant orange-red fireball, the infantry around the machine scurrying for cover.

The Crosscut seemed to swagger with triumph at the destruction of the massive tank.
Around it, the raider infantry pushed forward, taking advantage of the chaos caused by
the explosion, catching their militia counterparts off-guard. Glancing around, she could
see that the other militia units were caught off-balance, thrown by the loss of what would
have been their largest vehicle, one that was capable of turning the tide of the battle all on
its own.

In order to carry so much firepower, the Crosscut would have probably been loaded
entirely with one-shot rocket launchers. It had almost certainly expended its entire load to
destroy the Behemoth, limiting it only to physical attacks. Juanita didn't care. She was
furious at the destruction of the tank, and the effect it was having on the rest of the militia
forces, and she wanted to make them pay for what they had done.

"Damn you!" She shouted out as she opened fire on the Crosscut, the autocannon barking
as its shells stitched a line across its chest. The enemy IndustrialMech staggered
backwards as she charged forwards, bearing down on it. Ahead, the wounded Powerman
lurched into her path, as if to block her from destroying the less damaged and this more
valuable mech.

"Get out of my way!" She snapped, swinging the mech's chainsaw arm at the damaged
LoaderMech. The saw bit into its torso with a screech of metal that echoed through the
cabin. Using her momentum, Juanita simply pushed forward, the chainsaw ripping free
from the Powerman's torso, leaving a trail of twisted metal and ruined components
behind it, the mortally wounded LoaderMech collapsing in its wake.

She bore down on the other Crosscut, firing again. Rounds tore into the ForestryMech's
chest, leaving it staggered, black smoke belching out from the wounds. Unrelenting,
Juanita all but rammed her mech into it, swinging the chainsaw like a madwoman. A
strike cleaved through the already depleted torso armour, shredding equipment and
leaving a trail of twisted metal in its wake.

Another swing bought the chainsaw around again, the enemy Crosscut raising its empty
weapon arms in an effort to defend itself; the blow ripped into its armour, crushing one of
the empty launchers. Around the mech, the infantry that had been supporting it scurried
away, wary of being crushed underfoot by the duelling mechs. Recovering, the Crosscut
jabbed at Juanita's mech, managing to land a blow with one of its boxy weapon arms.

She didn't care. Instead, she raised the chainsaw arm as high as it would go, before
bringing it down on the enemy mech. The clawed edge of the saw bit into the cockpit of
the enemy Crosscut, crushing ferroglass and metal with a hideous yet satisfying screech.
She pushed the controls forward, as if her own rage and anger would fuel the mech's
myomers, adding force to the blow. It seemed to work; the enemy machine's armour
yielded under her force and determination, the blade cutting through and crushing the
other machine's cockpit.

Juanita pulled the chainsaw free with a victorious grin, seeing the base of the weapon,
coated with coolant, oil and... a distinct red smear. The blood of the Crosscut pilot that
she had just killed. She blinked, staring at the chainsaw as the full implications of what
she saw ran through her mind. I killed him. I killed a man. She shook her head, looking
again at the blade. What... what have I done?

Juanita couldn't comprehend it. She had never aimed to kill; she had never tried to
deliberately take a life. Despite her criminal past, it had been primarily about two things;
making money and having fun. Not supplying armies; not enabling military takeovers
and certainly not killing people.

A hammer-blow struck her mech, shaking it and slamming her head forward, then back.
Warning alarms went off in the cockpit as her status board lit up with red. Trying to catch
herself, she looked around for the source of the attack. Another explosion threw her, but
managed to at the same time highlight her attacker. A Buster HaulerMech stomped
towards her, each of its arms equipped with a pair of missile launchers.

Trying her best not to panic, she looked around, trying to find a way out. The Buster was
nearly twice as heavy as her Crosscut; this modified version also sported more weapons
then her machine. Finally, it was near fresh, while her mech was anything but. Twisting
the controls, she tried to drive the mech forward to escape her would-be attacker; instead,
she found the machine sluggish and stumbling.

Glancing over at the status board, she could see warning lights on her leg actuators,
making it clear that her mech was not going to easily escape. None the less, she had to
try; she urged the machine on, making slow, stumbling steps across the parkway. As she
tried to retreat, she spun the Autocannon, opening fire on the Buster in an effort to slow it
down. Instead, the damage to the arm threw her aim off, the shells tearing into the
ground.

The Buster opened fire again, more missiles tearing into the Crosscut's body. A hit to the
head slammed her back again, bouncing her off the side of the cockpit. The ForestryMech
stumbled as Juanita fight to keep it upright, waging a war against the damage it had
sustained. For a moment it seemed like she had won, only to have her brief victory
interrupted by a shriek of twisting and then shattering metal. The mech collapsed to its
knees, barely managing that much.

"You have cost me an awful lot" The Buster's pilot snarled as his mech stalked over to
hers. Its Industrial TSM gave the machine a jerky, uneven gait that seemed to make it
only more menacing. "I had everything planned out, and you, whoever you are, had to go
and mess everything up. I told you that the Band of Five doesn't tolerate treachery; now
you will learn what happens to those that cross us." She recognised the voice; it was the
same one she had heard over the communicator when she had stolen the Crosscut.

The Buster lashed out with one leg, the LoaderMechs' enhanced myomers delivering a
terrifyingly powerful blow that shattered her Crosscut's damaged leg into a hail of debris.
The ForestryMech collapsed to the ground, all but immobile before its opponent.

Juanita frantically looked around the shattered cockpit of the ruined mech, desperately
searching for a way out or something – anything – she could use. At the same time, the
Buster loomed huge before her, the intent of its pilot painfully clear.

Trunner, Opilacca

Imbros III, Prefecture I

Republic of the Sphere

3 March 3133

For Niko Bulgarin, everything had gone wrong. Everything.

He had worked his plan out. The idea was simple; use modified IndustrialMechs
supported by converted trucks and infantry disguised as workmen as a strike force. The
unit would take advantage of the 'camouflage' afforded by their status as nominally
civilian machines to close in on the capitol, and then seize it in a lighting strike. By the
time the militia responded, the planetary government would be in their hands, and in a
position to negotiate a surrender. Simple.

The idea had been passed up to the leadership of the Band of Five, who'd approved it.
They'd allocated Niko a force that had they had been building since before the HPG
blackout for such an operation, entrusting him to use that force appropriately. They'd laid
low after arriving on-world, using the Band's contacts to take up positions throughout
Trunner that they could deploy from. He'd watched the Militia, noting their strengths and
abilities and figuring the best time to strike.

And then it had all unravelled. Something had happened to one of their IndustrialMechs;
the pilot had either turned on the Band, or been replaced with someone else. Whoever
was in that ForestryMech had then attacked one of his fellows, taking their AgroMech
out. But the loss had been far worse than just a single mech.

Tipped off by their actions, the Militia had been ready for his force. Instead of the quick
strike he had planned on, they'd become bogged down, losing time, men and Mechs. And
then, to make matters worse, the Crosscut who's pilot had been responsible for all this
had joined the fray, attacking is force from behind and further throwing them off.

However, they had also provided him with an opportunity. He could take them out here
and now, and stop whatever was going on dead in its tracks.

Lining up the Crosscut in his sights, Niko thumbed the trigger for his modified Buster's
weapons. The quad SRM-4 launchers unleased a hailstorm of missiles on the distracted
Crosscut, shreddingarmour and structure. The mech staggered under the force of the
blow, one leg twisting out of shape as it struggled to get away.

Niko hadn't gotten into the Band of Five by being kind, and he hadn't risen to a command
rank by playing nice. He had been cruel and merciless; he had killed to get into the band,
and killed to get where he was. He was not going to let this transgression go unpunished.

As soon as his SRMs were ready, he fired again. Missiles slammed into the Crosscut's
head and torso, driving the mech to its knees. Deriving some degree of grim satisfaction
from the damage he had wrought, Niko drove his Buster forwards, opening up his PA
system as he did.

"You have cost me an awful lot" Niko snarled as his mech stalked over to its fallen foe. "I
had everything planned out, and you, whoever you are, had to go and mess everything up.
I told you that the Band of Five doesn't tolerate treachery; now you will learn what
happens to those that cross us." A thrust of the controls sent one foot shooting out,
shattering the Crosscut's leg and driving it to the ground.

"Die" He began as he raised the foot, intending to simply stomp the mech's cockpit,
killing its pilot for what they had done. Instead, his mech rocked as a heavy blow struck it
from behind. With a roar of anger, he turned around to see what had happened, who had
attacked him.

He had expected a Militia tank or maybe an infantry crew. Instead he saw a Carbine
ConstructionMech, completely unmodified from stock, still wearing a safety yellow
livery. "How many of you idiots are there?" He shouted as he lashed out with one fist,
swinging at the enemy mech. The enemy pilot seemed prepared for him, stepping back
past the blow. He lashed out again with the other arm, only to have them manage to
weave past that.

Whoever was handling the Carbine was clearly a professional, he realised. They were a
true MechWarrior, one who had been trained to fight in their machine rather than
someone who had been trained as an IndustrialMech pilot and worked up from there. A
sickening realisation dawned on him; this person was a part of who or whatever had
sabotaged his attack.

Abandoning the downed Crosscut, he backpedalled to put some space between him and
the Carbine. Its pilot may be a professional, but his mech still was only armed with a
power shovel. He could keep his distance up and pummel it into scrap with his missiles.
Simple. Another problem solved.

Instead he was greeted by a warning siren indicating a missile lock. "What is it now?" He
yelled out, looking down at his LoaderMech's targeting system. It indicated the source of
the warning; a militia Warrior VTOL was swooping down towards him, its missile load
pointed at him. Behind it were several other militia craft. Smoke trails blossomed from
the Warrior's front as a flight of long-range missiles streaked towards him, several
impacting with his mech.

"Boss! There's more of them!" A voice called over the command network. Glancing at
his tactical display, Niko could see several red dots entering, his system tagging them
with designations. They were militia reinforcements, Heavy tanks and VTOLs. It was a
force that his own couldn't stand against, one that, had the original plan gone off, they
wouldn't have had to fight at all.

There was no time to think or consider options. "All units!" He called over the command
channel. "Fall back! I repeat, fall back!" There were protests over the channel, but he
knew what he had to do. As he wheeled the Buster around, he chose to ignore them. He
knew why those voices were dissenting; it was the same reason why he would have in
their position.

The Band of Five did not reward failure. They were a ruthless, cut-throat group, where
only the strongest, most ruthless and most successful survived. Those that didn't succeed
were quickly disposed of, and second chances were rarely given. He would have to
answer for this, and he doubted that his superiors would be at all forgiving.

He glanced back at the two IndustrialMechs, the Carbine and the fallen Crosscut, as his
mech retreated. Whoever you are, you're responsible for this. And I intend to find out
who you are, and what your stake in this is. And I will let the Band know, so they can
bring you to task for this. They had been the cause of his downfall; however, they may
yet be his salvation.

Several kicks to the ruined frame of the Crosscut's hatch were enough to force it open,
allowing Juanita to crawl out of the ruined IndustrialMech. It was a pain even to stand;
her body was bruised and battered, and she could feel hot liquid running down her arm
and her forehead. She had a pretty good idea what it was. Fragments of shattered glass
decorated her clothes, making her reluctant to poke her wounds any more lest she
aggravate them.

Instead she glanced back at the ruined ForestryMech. One of its legs had been shattered
and the rest of it wasn't too much better off. Huge, gaping holes had been torn in its torso,
with shattered machinery visible inside its wounds. It was possible that the machine could
be repaired, but it was at the stage where it was probably not worth it. She swallowed
loudly as she assessed it, realising that for all the hurt she was feeling, she had gotten off
pretty well.

Looking around only underscored that fact; other machines lay twisted and battered or in
burning wrecks across the forecourt of the capitol building. The walls around the capitol
lay in ruins, while a number of other buildings sported wounds from stray weapons fire.
As she looked around she saw something else; the dead body of a fallen infantryman,
partially visible behind the wreckage of one of the trucks.

Juanita looked away, trying not to think about it, instead finding something – anything –
else to focus on. Something caught her eye, the modified Buster that she had been
fighting. The LoaderMech was backing off from the capitol, clearly wounded by fire
from the Militia forces. "Well, whoever you are." She began. "I hope that I was able to
bugger up whatever it was you wanted." It wasn't much, but it made her feel a little
better, knowing that she had been the thorn in his side that had cost him so much.

An approaching IndustrialMech caught her attention, the hunchbacked Carbine clanking

and wheezing as it stopped before her. A glance at it told her that it was the same one she
had briefly seen as her mech fell, one that had stepped in to attack the Buster. "Your
timing is impeccable, ponytail."

The cockpit hatch opened, Antonin stepping out. He was still dressed in his hot dog cart
uniform, albeit without his apron. The look, compared to his mech, was rather
incongruous. Nodding to her, he clambered down the mech's access ladder. "Sorry to
keep you. Took me some time to find a ride."

"I didn't figure you for an Industrial booster like myself." She commented. "Makes me
feel kind iof redundant"

He shook his head. "This? I walked it off a construction site. No effort like what you do.
Trust me, when it comes to stealing mechs, you have me beaten. If the operator hadn't left
it unlocked, I wouldn't have gotten away with it."

She glanced around at the destruction that had been unleashed, some of which she had a
part in. "Yeah, well..." Juanita gave a brief shrug before looking at him again. "Hope you
got your money's worth out of me. I mean, if this was what you wanted and all." There
was a bitter edge to her voice, but it was tempered by a degree of simple exhaustion.
"You did well, Juanita." He offered. "The militia were already prepared; I'd fed them
your findings to suggest that there might be something wrong already. When you tipped
them off that everything had gone down, albeit in a rather unusual way, that pretty much
shattered the attacker's plans right there and then."

"People still died."

He nodded. "I know. And that was unavoidable. Your work managed to minimise the
militia's causalities and contain the fighting. If not for you, things would have been much
worse."

"Yeah, I know." She didn't really feel like she'd accomplished anything, despite his
platitudes. "So can I get out of this dump now?"

"Of course." Antonin finished. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up and then pack up your
stuff. Once things have died down, we'll get you off-world."

"Right." Juanita shot him a wry smile. "So then, there's something else you have to
cover."

"You will be paid, don't worry about it." He replied straight up.

"Not that." She finished. "About that Battlemech..."