[Date: 10/14/2645, 18:27, Mountain Time]
[Location: Sanctuary, Old Montana, Former Continental United States]

The rubble shook, and shifted as Michael's Titan marched through the burning streets. The rhythmic lift, then fall of the machine's slow, steady, familiar stride the only reminder of the power his mind currently controls. His eyes shifted between his console display, and the destruction before him. His comms tracker pinged three friendly signals, and a central point he'd forwarded to each of them. Radio silence was vital, at least until the fireteam reunited. 

He rounded a corner to find a Titan he knew fondly. Its hull was painted a dusty brown, and its form was broad, rounded. On one arm was the thick, heavy, gaping barrel of its main gun while on the other was a massive shield, with the name "Phalanx" painted sideways, top to bottom in bold black font. Over each shoulder was two laser emitters, glowing blue. Following close behind was a smaller, but much faster machine. Its hull was a similar dusty brown to the Phalanx. It had a much sleeker, more humanoid shape, with twin missile pods over each shoulder, and a massive blade aligned with its arm. Along the blade was an inscription, "Paladin."

Descending from the rooftops was the fourth and final Titan. Its fall slowed by back and leg-mounted thrusters which likely carried it to the rooftops prior to the rendezvous. Its hull was sleek and angular. It was tall, broad, and it held its main gun like a rifle in its hands. Over each shoulder was a small pod with much smaller, but tightly grouped laser emitters, each giving off a low red hue.

"Fireteam Rapture, Status report." Michael's voice was a low tenor rumble. A voice that knows war, that knows loss.

A gruff, older voice replies from the Titan named Phalanx. "This is Corporal Lund. A bit beat up from the fall, but nothing that'll keep me down or out."

A far younger, almost smug voice followed from the Paladin. "Moore here. I'm a little beat-up in the hull, but I had a tool shed to cushion my fall. Just tell me where to stick my sword, and I'll stick it there."

"Be careful how you say that." another young man teased from the Titan with the rifle, though his tone was much more stern than Moore's.

"Taketa?" asked Michael. That same young voice replied. "Jump-jets softened the fall. Aim's just as sharp as ever. And what about you? How's Thunderhead holding up?"

"Left massed-laser-array shot to shit, and my lower right autocannon is jammed. Otherwise, I'm still in the fight."

"Sir," called Moore over the comms. "You could be reduced to a single little beam from your right MLA, and be stripped of all your armor, and you'd still say your 'In the fight.'"

"Damn straight, Moore." called Lund.

"Focus, Archangels." said Michael. "Now that we're all in one place, we need to figure out how to evac."

"You can't be serious, sir." Moore protested. "There could be survivors. Be it Archangels or civilians, it's up to us to find them."

"Do you see any comm pings, soldier?!" Michael's tone grew short. "I hate the Mechrion just as much as you do. They may be unpredictable, but there is one constant. If they win, they leave no survivors. Every invasion bunker I've passed has been breached, and every Titan wrecked. Our mission was to determine the cause of the loss of communication, and get back to Fortress. And I like to think it's pretty obvious why we've lost comms with this city. Unless I'm the only one who saw rubble walking in here."

"What about Vega?" asked Taketa.

Michael paused, then began his march past his Archangels. "We need to establish comms with Fortress. Get another dropship out here before we join the fallen."

"Then it's just a matter of surviving the three hours it'll take the pilot to get here." said Lund.

"He'll never be as good as Jamie." said Taketa.

Michael's short-range sensors to picked up the unique, alien Element Zero signature associated with the Mechrion. "Incoming contacts!" he barked into the comms. The Archangels immediately readied themselves. A large, silver saucer with neon blue gaps in its underside flew into view, coming to a sudden halt that would snap a man's neck. It hovered above them, spinning slowly. From the gaps in its hull spilled forth five machines the Archangels feared. Referred to simply as Battlesuits, they landed as solid metal spheres, and unfolded into machines not unlike the Titans. They were large, round, and stout. Their hull was smooth, clean.

The emitters of their two arm cannons glowed a similar blue to the hangars in the dropship that had just deposited them, but the hue was darker, and the burn was brighter. Two of them immediately locked onto the Thunderhead. The glow grew brighter, as particles were pulled into the emitters. Michael fired his one functioning MLA, sending a thick red pillar of energy into the Battlesuit. Its shields flared green, but held. It replied with twin particulate beams that slammed into the Thunderhead's hull. One carving into the shoulder, the other gliding through the Titan's bicep, dropping the rest of the arm ten feet to the cracked asphalt.

Another Battlesuit fired, this one carving into the Thunderhead's leg. The beams tore past the armor, and damaged the load-bearing structure inside. The leg groaned, protesting to its own weight as the Thunderhead wobbled, and straightened.

Moore was next to engage, with his Paladin. He sent a barrage of missiles into the Battelsuit Michael had engaged. Its shields flickered, and fell just in time for the Paladin's blade to carve straight into the thing's core. Its limbs went limp, and the entire machine crumpled to the ground. Before Moore could withdraw, two identical particulate beams peeled away the hull across his entire left side.

"Shit, it's too hot here!" Moore snapped, whipping his Titan to face his attacker and firing his missiles again before retreating behind cover. "We need to get out of here!"

"We can't!" Teketa fired his jump-jets and flew atop the same roof from which he'd descended moments prior. Targeting the Battlesuit engaging Moore, he was quick to the trigger, and a quicker aim. One shot, one eighty millimeter explosive shell flew from the muzzle of his Titan's rifle. Then another. The target's shields flickered, but otherwise didn't budge. 'Useless.' Teketa thought. He fired his own MLAs, each a much smaller array than the Thunderhead's, but the energy went some way to disrupt the Mechrion shields.

During all this, Lund's Phalanx has been receiving fire from the other three contacts. The semi-reflective coating on his shield went a long way to diluting the particle beams, allowing him to return fire. Four green pulsing beams fired from the emitters over his shoulders at one target as his main cannon pounded another. His shield was crumbing faster than his targets. "Not sure how much longer I can occupy these clankers!" he called.

"Working on it!" answered Moore. Using his back-mounted linear thrusters, he dashed into the middle of the fray. With a quick whomp from his missile pods, the shields on Lund's primary target went down. The shrill snap of Teketa's rifle sounded, caving the exposed Battlesuit's hull, and tearing its left cannon off at the elbow. Michael maneuvered to take partial cover behind a crumbling building. He fired his remaining two cannons once, sheering the Battlesuit's leg off, and sending it tumbing to the ground.

The Phalanx's shield has been breached, and four particle beams tear into the Titan, tearing off its main gun, and breaching the cockpit. Lund cried in pain, and his comms went silent. The Phalanx has fallen. Overhead, another dropship hovered, and from it, five more of the alien Battelsuits spilled forth, surrounding the Archangels.