Operation Talos by NewIncogTab

He was muttering to himself, somewhere in her head.

Though he didn’t know it, he had been keeping her loosely informed about what was going on beyond the darkness, even if it was difficult to decipher what he meant between the incoherent rambling and the cussing. For the better part of however long she had spent fully conscious, she had learned enough to piece together a basic understanding of her situation; as far-fetched as she found it.

First thing Grossmann learned was that she wasn’t in control of her body. Every movement, every step, every swing of her arms; they weren’t her’s. Apparently, the little voice in her head was dictating her actions, controlling her like a puppet to fight something that he had ever so eloquently described as “one ugly motherfucker”. She did find some humour in the possibility, finding a sense of normalcy in his words. She had also learned a great deal about the voice in her head, like his name.

Second Lieutenant Oliver Walker; a twenty-six year old soldier with a foul mouth to boot. He had an undying love for music–specifically what he dubbed “the classics”–and was apparently a semi-decent guitarist, though he couldn’t sing to save his life; something Grossman, herself, could attest to. He had spent four years studying to get degrees in both computer science and robotics, which had apparently paid off well and landed him a position as her pilot. Yet, even with all of his knowledge about the parts used for the shell of armour serving as her prison, he seemed utterly oblivious to one vital part of his mech.

Her.

Whether he was acting blissfully unaware, or just plain ignorant to her presence, she was uncertain. She just hoped he could feel her silent support as he used her to combat whatever “ugly motherfucker” he was making her fight. She had to give him credit where it was due, though; his status as a self-proclaimed expert pilot had shone through with how many times he had single-handedly pulled them both out of life or death situations; probably more than that. With how slipping in and out of consciousness had become a normal thing for her, it was safe to assume her count was probably less than accurate. She often woke up during his missions, so she had plenty of time to listen in on him, meaning she had plenty of time to learn that him being so worried wasn’t a normal occurrence. She didn’t understand the reason for his panic; this was just a usual distress call, from what she’d overheard. Granted, he had been worried a few times on past missions, but enough that every other word to leave his mouth was something along the lines of “fuck” or “shit”.

Grossmann’s head pounded. Electricity sparked along the back of her neck. Her suit was starting to get hot; uncomfortably so. Then, amidst a string of curses from Walker, gravity abandoned her. She was weightless, if only for a moment before gravity reclaimed its hold on her. Her back smashed into a solid wall, followed swiftly by her head jerking back from the inertia. A protrusion from the wall dug into her neck, and then she felt a sharp zap. It was only brief, but gods did it sting. Her brain throbbed in her skull, which still felt like it was rattling, and her ears rang enough that she could barely hear Walker’s panicked ramblings about unresponsive controls. As she cracked an eye open, she was caught off guard by a gleam of light beaming in through a crack in her visor. Her body worked instinctively to shield her eyes, and Walker’s shouting faded as her arm lifted to her face. That hadn’t been Walker, she realised. That was her. She let out a hoarse laugh.

She could move!

She ran her hands along her helmet, finding a hold just off to the side of her jaw. She tugged at the wrought metal, causing it to groan under the force. She let out a grunt as she tugged again, this time harder, hard enough that the damned thing snapped off. She dropped it on the ground beside her and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. However she gagged as she quickly found out the air was the furthest thing from fresh. It carried the putrid stench of what she assumed was death.

Letting her head loll back, Grossmann’s eyes widened as she found herself staring directly into the gaping maw of some sort of vortex. Green energy crackled within, dancing between swirling red clouds, the pigment of which bled out into the blue sky to turn it into a hellish sight. She tore her gaze away from the looming portal, eyes widening as she took in the ruin around her. The buildings that hadn’t been reduced to a pile of rubble and death were ablaze. Smoke plumes rose into the sky, plaguing the air. But that wasn’t the same smell that was making her stomach do backflips. Littering the streets were tiny bodies, no bigger than one of her fingers. Walker’s description of the scene had been crude in its phrasing, but it was too close to accurate for her to deny. She could never imagine something so horrific, so depressing.

Walker.

His name echoed in her head with a protective instinct, and she quickly scanned the surrounding area in search of any sign of him. She flipped the helmet onto its back, finding nothing but a tiny control room amidst the shattered glass, occupied only by her fingers and a tattered midnight blue jacket.

“Walker?” Grossmann croaked, her voice cracking and her throat raw.

Her eyes darted around once more, frantically checking near her feet, over nearby debris–everywhere in her immediate proximity. He wasn’t in her shadow, and he definitely wasn’t under her.

Movement–left side.

“Walker?” She called again, softer this time.

Instead of Walker, she was met with the sight of a fifty foot lion with serrated, porcupine-like quills constituting its mane. Its mouth and nose were completely smooth–no holes at all. Empty holes dotted the area between its nose and mouth. A closer look made her realise that they were contracting and dilating with a rhythm that resembled breathing. She also noticed strange, glossy black spots further away dotting the sides of the snout. Two gaping mouths–each akin to a sea lamprey–were lined with hooked teeth sitting where its eyes should have been, the mouths themselves extended out of the sockets like a slug’s. The creature let out a terrifying mix of a hum and a clicking sound.

Pure nightmare fuel.

Definitely not Walker.

She silently prayed that the monster wouldn’t notice her and just move on. Fortunately, it didn’t notice her. Unfortunately, it did notice something else. She followed its non-existent gaze until her eyes landed on a head of dirty blond hair clad in a black, slim-fitting jumpsuit.

Walker.

He hadn’t shown any sign of noticing her yet, posted up by the mangled remains of a car between herself and the monster. His body went rigid for a moment, seemingly sharing her realisation that his position had been compromised, before bolting for a small crawl space formed by the ruins of a building. The demented lion shot after him.

The world faded around Grossmann. The bleak scene, the ghastly odour caused by the sheer amount of death–none of it mattered to her.

Sharp claws extended just feet away from Walker’s head. He turned–too late. Her shoulder slammed into the creature, driving them both back into the asphalt. She heard a click in her armour–a few quills bouncing off the cold steel. She tried to grapple it so she could end it, but it was smaller–faster–and wriggled free of her grasp before making a hasty retreat behind the rubble with a low growl. She stumbled to her feet, panting as her eyes followed the growling from the ruins to a crumbling apartment complex. Then it went silent, making way for the combined crackling fire in the street and energy overhead. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the hundreds of tiny windows for some sign of movement–anything.

Her warning came too late in the form of a scream from behind. Air caught in her throat and her body was forced into the ground. Claws scratched against steel, and something stuck to her neck with the suction force of a thousand miniature needles.

Grossmann moved a hand behind her head, fumbling blindly until catching hold of a throat–pulsating under the layers of quills–and tore it out with a primal scream. She saw blood–black and viscous–leak from its mouths as a barbed, needle-like tongue slithered back into the one it had come from. The creature backed off briefly, giving Grossmann a chance to roll onto her back, before letting out a blood curdling howl and leaping back onto her. It was going berserk. It aimed a swipe at her head, which she tried–and failed–to block. Her arm got batted away and the thick paw connected to her jaw. A second blow hit above her left eye, and the third smacking her left cheek. Grossmann gripped a fistful of its quills and brought her legs up to her chest, planting her feet into the feline’s body before launching it off of her. It crashed onto the ground once more, forcing asphalt and dirt up as it skidded through the street.

Despite the relentless beating it had taken, the creature rose once more–much to Grossmann’s annoyance. Why wouldn’t this–this monster die? Blood spurted from the hole in its neck and leaked from the twin mouths as they widened to bare another two rows of gnarled teeth. With a pained grunt, Grossmann rose into a crouch, gaze following the monster as it circled her. Each of them examined one another–searching for any sign of weakness. It snarled, and she snarled back. Then it leapt. This time, she was ready. She charged the beast, springboarding off the cracked street with an arm outstretched. Her hand connected with the hole in the neck, and she used her momentum to push the lion onto its back. It swiped wildly at her, but the blows that landed didn’t bother her. One hand buried in what remained of its throat, the other gripped its snout with several squelches that made her stomach churn with a sickening realisation.

Eyes. The glossy holes were eyes.

The creature released a pained, gurgled screech which threatened to rupture her eardrums. It couldn’t struggle out of her grasp. She had it. With one last primal roar, she ragged its head into the apartment complex, knocking the remaining supports out and burying its head in a pile of rubble. The body twitched a few more times before going completely still save for the fur rustling in the wind.

An unsettling silence washed over Grossmann. For a fleeting moment, the world entered a strange sort of catatonic state; no sound, no life–nothing. Then, as quickly as it came, the silence shattered with the ring of a gunshot echoing through the ruined cityscape. As her train of thought returned, replacing the lingering traces of her fight or flight instinct, her eyes widened.

“Walker…”

Grossmann got down on her knees. Hands encased in metal that was once pristine–now scratched to Hell and back–pulled chunks of rubble from the pile until a small cough made her jolt. Her head swivelled around to see a familiar small figure sat propped against a building across the road. His jumpsuit was covered in dust with small crumbs of debris clinging to the material, even torn open with bloody gashes staining the edges of the black fabric crimson. His messy, dirty blond hair had grown even dirtier and messier, and blood ran down his nose and from a fresh cut on his left eyebrow. She let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding and slowly moved over to him. She figured he'd be small given the bodies she'd seen earlier, but by God; he was tiny.

Walker's eyes widened at her approach, as slow and cautious as it may have been. His hand flew down to his hip and drew a pistol from its holster, aiming it straight at her face.

“S–Stay back!”

Her hand inched a little closer, and that caused his body to act on instinct. Gunshots echoes through the destroyed streets, each followed promptly by a tiny plink as the bullets feebly bounced off her armour. He kept pulling the trigger until his gun sputtered a chorus of clicks, when his trembling hands dropped the gun to the ground.

“It's okay,” her voice rumbled softly, reassuringly. “Whatever that was is dead. I’ve got you.”

“D–Don't–Dont touch me!” His arms flew from his lap to shield his face as her hand continued its approach. “Please, I didn't–I didn't know that you were–there was a person in there! Please–Please don't kill me!”

Grossmann felt a pang in her heart as she watched the usually cocky pilot break into hysterics. It didn’t take a genius to tell he was scared for his life with how he tried to get away. Her brows pulled together into a small frown.

“It's okay,” she repeated softly in another low rumble. “I'm not going to kill you, Walker. I–”

She stopped mid-sentence as a huge droplet of blood fell from her face and splashed directly onto him, painting his face and most of his jumpsuit crimson. Walker froze, and she could swear his slightly sun-kissed skin had turned a deathly shade of white underneath the red as he swallowed thickly.

Speechless, she slowly rose to her full height and took a step back. His eyes, wide and filled with terror, followed her movement. Though she noticed his eyes weren't meeting her's directly. Her hand moved to her cheek–where his stare lingered–brushing against a long protrusion. Her jaw clenched and she sucked in a sharp breath before yanking the quill out of her skin, dropping it at her feet. She panted heavily as her cheek started to sting like Hell. Her gaze wandered from Walker's seated form momentarily, drifting around the mostly destroyed city until her eyes settled on a reflection in the mostly unshattered window of an office building next to her.

Big eyes stared back at her with pupils constricted enough that she could see the glowing flecks of shimmering gold amidst the hazel backdrop of her irises. Dark brown hair–which would look black if not for the unending inferno the city had turned into–clung to the grueling concoction of sweat, grime, and blood coating her face. She could just about make out the fangs protruding from her gums, though they felt longer than they should be. It suddenly dawned on her how terrified Walker must have really been. She was a hundred feet tall, dressed like a killing machine, gashes and punctures littering her face and neck, and covered in blood; she didn’t blame him for being afraid–beyond afraid–of her. The realisation of how easily she would be able to kill him also dawned on her. Walker was utterly defenceless against her, stuck in the shadow of a towering monster killer. She was a monster. She knew how easy it would be to just snuff Walker’s life out, and he clearly did, too.

For a moment, neither one of them moved an inch.

Gunfire echoed in the ruin, accompanied by hisses and roars.

Grossmann tried to be as gentle as possible as she scooped him up in a loose fist and turned away from the raging battle mere blocks away, but he struggled against her. His hands slipped as he tried to push her fingers–coated in the inky blood of the nightmare cat–away from his face, forcing her to readjust her grip slightly and press a finger over his lower face.

“You’re okay, I’m not gonna hurt you and I’m not leaving you here,” she murmured gently, though her reassurance seemed to only go into one ear and straight out the other.

Sobbing, Walker pleaded. “I–I have a family. Please, I–my sister. I can’t–I can’t die here, so just let me go–”

“I’m trying to save you.” Grossmann had to resist the urge to shake him. Thankfully, he froze under her intense gaze. Though she had to steel herself when her gaze met his watery eyes. “You think you can survive out here alone?”

Walker fell silent in her hand, holding his breath to stifle his sobs despite the few that managed to slip through, so she tentatively tried to rub the blood from his face–only managing to smear it in even more. The gunfire behind them slowed until it faded into silence, causing Grossmann to move quicker through the war-torn streets.

“You mentioned a sister–focus on her. If you really want to see her again, tell me which way I need to go.” Grossmann took a sharp turn as the cacophony of hissing drew closer. The little pilot in her hand stayed quiet.

“Now, Walker!”

His head whipped around as he tried to get his bearings. “I–I don’t know!”

His body jerked as she took another sharp turn. Feeling her fingers tighten around him and squeeze more forced a pained grunt out of him.

“Come on, Walker. You’ve got to have a better understanding of this sector than I do–I can’t fight all of these things!”

“I–I think that’s–” His stomach lurched as her hand jerked once more to stabilise herself after tripping over some debris. “I–fuck–go right!”

Grossmann followed Walker’s direction, taking the next right. The latter kept himself alert of everything around him despite the aching pain growing in his ribs.

“Which way now?”

Walker took a moment to think and breathe. “River–next left–second right!”

Grossmann hummed attentively and charged full-speed through the streets, narrowly avoiding the claws swiping at her tendons. She took the left, then the second right. The river came into view over the piles of rubble which had once stood tall and proud, dominating the skyline. Walker’s eyes widened when he realised she wasn’t slowing down, but before he could get a word in, she pushed off from the edge of the bank. He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut until his stomach lurched again when the giant’s heels dug into the dirt on the other side. Her ankles burned, so she dropped into a roll, almost crushing the pilot in her hand as her grip on the pilot tightened to avoid dropping him. She looked back to the city, letting her body relax when she saw another six of those nightmare cats lingering at the edge of the river, howling at her and her passenger. They all looked different from the first; one had the head of a condor, another–a scorpion’s stinger. It made the hairs on her arms prick, but they were nothing compared to the nightmare looming over the city.

Veins of green energy crackled and pulsed within the swirling maw of the vortex–red clouds dancing around the opening, bleeding into the newly settled night sky. It was like a tornado full of lightning. She could barely make out the horde of monsters spewing out of the portal; they may as well have been ants flooding the land with how small they looked from afar. The portal looked massive enough in the day, but now–with the sky illuminated by the smouldering remnants of a city–it was impossible to know for sure how big it was. It was a mountain; a grim reminder lingering overhead. Then, her mind wandered back to Walker; the tiny pilot whose life was in her hands–literally.

I saved him, she realised, sucking in a shaky breath through gritted teeth. Walker was safe–they were safe; away from those nightmares. That thing was behind them.

They were safe.

Her hold on Walker relaxed considerably, letting him slide into the centre of her cupped hand as she brought her other one beside it to give him more space. He was dazed, groaning quietly and clutching his abdomen.

“I think my fuckin’ ribs are broken…”

Grossmann’s expression softened. “Sorry,” she murmured sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No?” A voice from behind called out. “Unhand the soldier. Now.”

Her head spun around to be met with the barrel of a gun trained right between her eyes–no, not a gun. A cannon; mounted at the wrist and glowing purple at the back of the barrel. Past that was a humanoid figure clad in armour similar to her own. Where the eyes should have been, Grossmann could make out the silhouette of a tiny feminine figure behind the tinted visor. Stationed at either flank were two more armoured giants; theirs far bulkier than Grossmann’s with larger cannons also trained on her. Where her helmet had a glass visor, the two staring her down were completely covered save for four slits–one in each corner of the armour covering the eyes.

They looked cold, mechanical. But underneath those suits, she was willing to wager there were people just like her. For a brief moment, she wondered if they were also conscious. If they were, she doubted they’d be able to help her.

The speaker on the woman’s mech crackled to life with static as she spoke again.

“Either unhand my brother, or die. Your choice.”