An old man stood alone in front of the wide glass pane, staring out at the storm raging outside.

  For each thunder, he would let out a puff from the smoke pipe perched on his mouth, as if matching the rhythm. After the tenth puff or so, he took the pipe away from his mouth and admired it. It was a relic from a time before the Calamity, carved with symbols that has meaning that has been lost to history. For all he knows, the pipe could be owned by a horrible person, and the symbol could be offensive. But alas, the last person that could have answered his questions has probably died ages ago.

  When he heard the sound of footsteps running around outside his chamber, he knew that it was finally time. Looking out once more, he could now see Federation ships descending through the dark clouds.

  The door of his chamber suddenly opened, and a man wearing a helmet and pilot jumpsuit walked in. The man bowed and was about to give his report when the old man start speaking.

  "You don't need to tell me. I have a front row seat of the show," the old man said, pointing at the sight of the Federation ships being shot at by AA with his smoking pipe.

  "Then you should hurry and pack, my lord. We don't have much time."

  "I have all the time in the world, my boy. It is you that is running out," the old man turned around, his face showed no fear or concern of the enemy. For a moment, he stared at the pilot, as if admiring something great he achieved, before walking to his table. From inside one of the drawer, he pulled out a file of document and dropped it on top of the table. The pilot realized what he was about to be ordered to.

  "I'm not leaving you behind."

  "Don't think you got a choice on that, son. As a member of the Cabal, they will hunt me down even to the edge of the Periphery. But you? They don't know you yet. You can still escape."

  The pilot was about to let out another protest, but the old man spoke first. "We cannot let this information fall to the Federation's hand." He placed his pipe on the document. "Consider this my last request to you. Father to son."

  Gritting his teeth, the pilot let out a silent curse. He wanted to sally out, fight against the Federation, but he also knew that it would not change anything. The Federation had arrived in full force, and he was in no shape to fight them. Noticing the lack of further protest, the old man took the file and pipe and walked up to the pilot before offering the two.

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  "You must bring this document to a good friend of mine. You know who he is. I once thought he was foolish to refuse to join the Cabal. Who would've thought it was the right decision after all?" the old man chuckled. "Can I trust you to accomplish this?"

  The pilot nodded slowly.

  "Good boy." The old man said before pulling the pilot into a hug. "I'm proud of you, my son. Always has, always will." The pilot responded by pulling the old man into a tight hug.

  "I will miss you, old man." was all he could mutter. He knew if he says anything else, he would break down in tears.

  Their moment was cut short when an explosion landed just beyond the window. The two nodded at each other. The pilot dashed out and hurried to the Hangar along with the other pilots, while the old man grabbed his trusty laser pistol, then casually shot the Federation soldiers breaking in through the window. "Amateurs."

  It didn't take long before the pilot reached his mech. He told the mechanics to take off all armament. They were initially confused, but knowing who the pilot was, they followed his order. As he waited for the mechanics to finish, he made sure the file was secured in a box under his seat. He was going to throw the pipe in there as well, but decided to instead keep the pipe inside his pocket.

  Once everyone was inside their mech and started their system, the hangar door was opened, revealing the intense battle outside. Federation mechs had already been deployed and were destroying a lot of the AA weapon on the base. The pilot sallied out with the others. While they charged the Federation, he slipped away. He made sure to put all power to the booster and flew as close to the water surface as possible.

  Unfortunately, some Federation mechs noticed him and gave chase. And they were surprisingly relentless. They shot laser and missiles at him, but his quick reflexes allowed him to avoid them all. The rain was quite helpful to him, as it hinders the Federation mechs targeting system.

  "We cannot keep chasing him! We are running out of fuel soon!" one of the Federation pilots reported to his leader. The fuel in their mech was only for the battle on the island. It was never meant to be used for a chase.

  "I almost got him!" the leader of the group shouted, the rail gun on his shoulder struggled to lock on the mercenary mech. The constant sound of it beeping but never locking it slowly driving the leader mad.

  "Just let him go, it's only one mech!" shouted the third pilot.

  Frustrated, the leader swapped to manual mode and shot his rail gun toward the mercenary, purely out of desperation.

  And it worked. It hit the mech straight in the chest, and it falls into the ocean at intense speed. There was no way the pilot survive.

  "Make note of the location. Send someone to salvage the wreck," barked the leader as he turned his mech around. A glance at his fuel gauge was enough to know he barely had enough fuel to get back to the ship. He would need to refuel before he can participate in the battle again.

  Little did they know, the pilot miraculously survived the crash. With his consciousness fading, he pulled the safety lever beside him, creating a protective rubber bubble around him. Once he felt safe inside the bubble, he finally let his conciousness slips away.