[Unitopia, Southern Archipelago]
There was a reason they were called titans of war. Stories were told far and wide of their exploits. A single Crucible Frame dropped into the middle of an occupied city in the dead of night and when the army arrived in the morning, they found the gates open and drenched in blood.
But that's all they remained. Stories. Something to frighten the newbies. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Four's mind refused to recognise the origin of that sickening crunch, but that cold analytical part of it couldn't help but do so.
Nanoweave plasteel...rated for high ordnance rounds and he just...crushed it.
The glowing red eyes hovered high above him like the angry, judging gaze of some deity. Emerging from the dust cloud of the explosion, the Frame was unchanged. Perhaps a few more scorch marks here and there. But it still stood firm, rooted like a mountain.
The lifeless corpse of Two hanging from his massive gauntleted fist. The words he spoke echoed wrathfully in the crater.
"Burn the Heart. Fuel the Frame."
"In the name of Mercy, Compassion and Honour."
Its speaker was garbled, but the force of its voice was overpowering. Fury manifest.
Despite all this, Four still had his pistol ready, bringing it up with steady hands. Training overriding the instinct to run, to flee, to cower on the ground in the hopes that he could weather the natural disaster before him.
Maybe I stall for time? The distress signal should have gone out when the Squad Leader died. And the drone is still in Overwatch position.
His eyes flicked upwards, the drone hovering far above, a distant speck highlighted on his visor in orange. They flicked back down, only to be confronted almost point blank with the colossal Frame.
Its free hand grasping towards his head, blocking out the entire sky like the wings of a dragon. The last thing he saw were those red eyes, before everything faded to black.
Blinded, Four raised his pistol and shot frantically. Sharp cracks of his pistol transitioned to empty clicks, but the grip on his head did not weaken. He felt his feet leave the ground, lifted in the air like a rag doll.
Credit to him, he threw the useless pistol away, clawing at the gargantuan gauntlet with panicked hands. But to no avail.
Bane's eyes did not waver as he crushed Four's helmet in his gauntleted fist.
Three down. One to go.
Bane threw away the two bodies, crouching down before exploding upwards. He landed on the lip of the crater, feet sending cracks throughout the pavement.
The last soldier, the one who had shot the net, was still there, holding out his Gauss-rifle, finger already on the trigger.
Bane almost scoffed, but his eyes narrowed. The barrel was pointed past him.
He wouldn't miss at this close range, would he? Unless...
He clenched his teeth in fury. The end of the barrel was pointed firmly at the girl he had left behind. Bane unclenched his bloodied fists. Each beat of his powerful heart seemed to inject pure energy into his Frame. Energy that demanded the release of action. To let loose, completely unfettered.
But he forced that base instinct back. He was not alive to revel in power, only to fulfil his oath. The ticking timer in the corner of his vision was a constant reminder.
"You think you can press that trigger before I reach you?"
Bane's voice, hoarse and rough, was swallowed by the darkness all around. The end of the barrel trembled for a moment, before stabilising. Unmoved from its original placement.
Bane sighed.
"So be it."
Channel energy towards the legs.
He subvocalised the command, strings of crimson lettering running across his display. His connection with the Frame meant he felt every little change in startling clarity.
Strength welled through him, from the soles of his feet up his calves and thighs. Power pure and distilled. A stab of pain lanced through his chest, but he endured it with gritted teeth.
The dark night was briefly dispelled by rivulets of orange-red magma flowing through the numerous cracks in his legs. The soldier seemed shaken by the otherworldly sight, but his grip on the rifle did not waver.
For a moment, armoured colossus and soldier faced each other motionless. As if on cue, in an instant, the colossus dashed forwards in a single, powerful stride.
As Bane came face to face, he saw the tip of the barrel almost in arms reach. But the soldier's finger was already on the trigger. He braced himself for the worst, but nothing happened.
And the moment passed.
He grasped the barrel of the gun, and tore it from the soldier's impotent hands with a wrench of his wrist.
A simultaneous forward punch collided with the soldier's chest with the entire momentum of his charge. Instantly, his armour caved in, the force of the blow rending the nanoweave plasteel like trees in a hurricane, launching the soldier's lifeless body like a puppet with it strings broken.
Bane studied the deformed rifle for a moment, contemplating.
I was too slow, he had the time. So why...
Bane turned to look at the crumpled figure in the distance, no indistinguishable from the rubble all around. He threw the deformed rifle beside the fallen soldier, turning back without a backwards glance.
With the end of that battle, the first second of eternity had passed.
He was still riding the high, the power running through his legs yet to fade. That miraculous enhancement still ongoing as arcane script flashed on his display. He ignored it, looking back at the figure of the girl.
She had taken a few steps forward, as though trying to see over the lip of the crater. Her grip on that torn cloth was trembling.
Upon her seeing the emergence of those familiar red eyes from the darkness, that trembling ceased. The newly glowing fissures in his legs lended Bane an otherworldly quality, reflecting in her blank eyes like a soft flame deep within.
It was weak, but it was there. The first, flickering flame.
The Fire of Hope.