Sprawled across the floor of the field-sized training room, surrounded by ground and walls of metal, the G.O Lem training mech laid sprawled from the battle, facing towards its caged ceiling. Each section of its arms were the size of a small car, and each portion of its legs were twice that. The model was one of the smaller and leaner of the mechs. Padded headed to toe in steel plates, most of its armour were dented. Many repaired with hastily drilled on bandage plates. Its head was a basic bulletproof glass flat dome that housed the cameras that served as its eyes, all three of which glowed red in a triangular position.

Luce stood before the fallen Titan, her rifle lowered without the strength to raise. The instructor, an ageing male with buzzcut grey hair and a face with enough scars to start a metal band on their own, cut between her and the mech.

He ordered, “Raise your gun, Hunter.”

Luce's voice shook as she replied, “I can't.”

The instructor circled to her side and raised her rifle forcefully. He forced her finger onto the trigger. With a sweep of his leg, he positioned her feet into a firing stance. She stared down the sights into the “eyes” of the mech. The Titan seemed to notice her, the red lights beaming directly into her soul.

She begged, “It's an A.I.”

“It's a machine,” he replied. “A weapon of war.”

“I can't...”

“You can.”

She was tearing up, “I won't...”

“Fire.”

“No...”

“FIRE!”

***

The gunshot from that day continued to ring in her ears. Her stomach and chest burning from the seatbelt having halted her mid crash. Upside-down, dangling, Luce reached up to find the latch for her seatbelt and unbuckled and crumpled to the ground. The painted smell of aeronium filled her nose as the gas dissipated from where she landed. She could hear faint voices talking from beyond the shell of the crashed glider but could not make out what they said.

“Jacques?” she softly called, to no reply.

Rolling onto her body, she scrambled to look for her weapon, hands gliding quickly over the dirt. It was not long before she landed on the cold steel of the hexagonal grappling-lance, the bayonet attachment of her rifle. She reeled the weapon to her, tracing the gun as she did. Long side by side barrels, heavy forend, titanium scope, chamber, extractor, trigger...

She froze. Her heart pounded slightly faster. With a deep breath for calm, she carefully turned the weapon over. Hand on the grip, stock on her forearm, she held the gun to her chest. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw a small ray of light seeping in from the side. Jamming the lance into the gap, she levered the weapon and pushed down. She quietly thanked Josh for choosing a light frame before lifting the hull with the break of just a single sweat.

“I'm asking you again, who are you!” The voice was muffled, but undeniably male, and belonged to neither of her companions.

She froze, her back ache from the impact of the crash and having to hold up the glider. But she held firm, calming enough to slow her breath, even as the metallic tang of Tainted air floated in. For a dozen seconds, she waited. When she was confident the newcomers had not heard or seen her movements, she shifted her steps, putting one hand under and slowly manoeuvred her body under the glider.

Her head poked into the light. Now that they were further north, the Twins were beginning to set for their hour of night.

From behind her, Josh voiced, “I told you, we're travellers from Citi. We just went the wrong direction.”

Another male voice replied, his tone more curious than interrogative, “You eshpect ush to berieve you a'shidentary frew 'round Reveriesh?”

The first male snapped to the second, “Shou! Can you not talk and drink at the same time?”

The man named Shou spat, presumable his drinking straw, before replying, “Fine. Can't help if I got thirsty, right?”

“You could drink later when we're not interrogating people!”

While the two bickered, Luce quietly shimmied out of the glider with her weapon, followed by gently lowering the hull before taking cover behind the crashed ship. When the two continued to argue, she peeked her head out over the wreckage.

A distance away, Josh and Jacques sat on the floor, shirts torn and faces scratched from the crash, their hands raised over their heads. Jacques's spear-cannon was disarmed beside her. Before them, two Dogonian soldiers stood, relatively relaxed despite having captives in their charge, their assault rifles pointed randomly at the ground.

It was impossible to differentiate between the two for they were about the same average height, fully geared in black and onyx camo suits and body-armor. Gas masks hid their faces. The only differences were the patches sewn onto their left arm. A white-lined diamond on Shou's uniform noted him as a scout, while a red circle on his companion marked a soldier.

Jacques scanned back to the wreckage and their eyes met. Luce placed a finger to her mouth and Jacques nodded lightly in acknowledgement.

“Hey fellas?” Jacques distracted. “Do you mind if we put on our masks? I don't really like breathing in Taint.”

Nonchalantly, Shou agreed. “Sure. Go ahead.”

The soldier reprimanded, “Shou!”

“What? It's just masks!”

From her pants pocket, Jacques took out a compact mask the size of her palm and stuck it over her nose and mouth. From beneath his coat, Josh pulled out a full gas mask. Plastic visor and protruding filter included. He strapped on the bulky contraption. Following their action, Luce circled low and around the wreckage, pulling her scarf up over her nose as she did so.

She moved quickly, closing as much distance between them as she could over the rocky terrain. Once within range, she raised her rifle, and action which Shou caught out of the corner of his eyes.

“Uh... Arnold.” The scout gestured to Luce with a tilt of his head.

“Don't '”Uh... Arnold” me! You need to start taking things seriously or–”

“Ahem!” Luce announced. Arnold slowly turned to her and once she was sure all attentions were on her, she laid out, “We're not looking for trouble. Just let us go, and we'll all just keep walking our way.”

Shou backhanded Arnold across the chest. “Told you they were okay.”

“She's holding a gun at us!” his partner snapped back. “Are you stupid?”

Luce sighed. Idiots, she thought to herself before lowering her rifle. “Happy?”

The pair exchanged a glance before saying in unison, “Happy.”

Jacques and Josh got to their feet. The latter, with a weary tone – sick from either the crash or the shenanigans of the two, she wasn't sure – volunteered, “I'll go get our stuff from the glider.” He headed off to the crash site to retrieve their belongings.

Jacques picked up her spear-cannon and dusted it off. The polearm, aside from having the usual spearhead, also had a multi-purpose explosive launcher attached right before the tip. The trigger for the firearm relegated to the back quarter of the weapon.

She notched the spear onto her shoulder. “So, what's Dogonian soldiers doing so far over the border?”

Shou casually stated, “We're a retrieval team.” He ignored Arnold's disapproving slap to his shoulder. “There's a decommissioned mech out here and we were tasked with repairing and bringing it back.”

Luce asked, “Where's your squad?”

Arnold sighed, finally giving in to the realization that their interrogation had been completely turned around. “We got separated after we got ambushed by a Rankor.” Just as Josh joined back with their packs and the two women slung their bags back on.

Luce asked, “What's a Rankor?”

Josh turned quiet, his eyes growing wider by the second. “What did you say?”

“A Rankor.”

He quickly knelt down to the ground and placed a hand on the earth.

“Josh? What's wrong?”

He explained, “Rankors are small quadruped scout golems. They have the best tracking magic attached to them and are some of the fastest golems out there.”

Arnold stated, “So? We lost it when we got separated. It went after our squad.”

Through gritted teeth, Josh hissed, “They travel in pairs, morons.” The soldiers' shoulders drooped in realization.

Jacques went to the ground as well. She noted, “There's a tremble.”

“It probably tracked these two idiots.” The Guide looked to their surroundings and settled on a large boulder a ways away from the crash site. “Behind that rock. Quick!”

The group ran as instructed, ducking behind the large rock. The soldiers did a quick check of their weapons and Luce noted the incendiary grenade Arnold was carrying on his belt. She nodded to Jacques, and they both pulled out respective explosive ammunitions from the side pocket of their bags.

“So, Mister Guide,” Jacques loaded a round into her launcher. “What's the plan.”

Josh peeked out over the boulder. Curious herself, Luce did the same from the side. Over the direction of their crashed glider, the Rankor slowly came up and over the raised terrain, the trembling of the ground growing slightly with each step neared.

The golem walked on all fours, modelled after the shape of a bear. Made of alchemized earth, its entire body was lined with soft-glowing grey markings. They were the magic circuits that allowed it to gain life and move. The closer it got, the more prominent its size. Three times the height of humans, it had the length of a bus and the width ratio of a tank. Its shoulders were padded with a thicker layer of earth, making it seem like the joints had popped out. It bent its wolf-like head over to inspect the crashed glider, 'sniffing' the site before raising its scaled paw over the ship. As if stepping on cotton, it crushed the frame with ease, bits of metal splintering away as the hull disappeared under its foot.

She noted in a whisper, “I don't think it knows we're here.”

Josh added, “If we stay quiet, maybe it will just move on. They're not conditioned to track their preys for too long.”

The Rankor circled the crash site, moving up and down the landing trail of debris. It stopped at what was left of the rear compartment that had broken off and leaned down to 'sniff' the rubble. It sat up, raised its head like a child at a lost of direction before finally turning away from them and started its journey away.

Shou burped.

The four of them, including the Rankor, turned to the scout, who could only say, “I really shouldn't have drank that cola.”

Arnold, still trying to keep his voice down, hissed, “Where did you get cola from?”

The former held out the straw of his drinking pack. “Got a guy. Want some?”

Their argument was silenced by a shadow that formed over them. Looking up, they came face-to-face with the Rankor, eyes glowing grey from the magic circuit that gave it sight. They held still, hoping against logic that if they just froze, the golem would not see them. Then, it raised its front legs.

Josh yelled, “Scatter!”

They split off just as the golem sends its paws crashing onto where they once hid.