The first sword pierced through the head of the Bahari. It was swiftly followed by a second blade, striking clean through the monster's heart. The creature shuddered, screeching into the air with a final death wail before collapsing forward onto Porter's arm. There was only a moment of hesitation from the pilot, a second of identifying the next foe before he was gone again.

The blur that was the White Storm dashed across the battlefield, weaving in between Goliaths en route to another stray Bahari. The battlesuit brushed past it, slicing the creature in two in one quick motion. And then it was gone again.

"Report, soldier." Porter listened to the static coming in over his communication network. They were trying to reach out to him, address him and figure out who he was and what he was doing there. There had already been a cluster of messages transmitting back and forth between the ground and the air, as the many generals reporting were trying to identify Porter. His Goliath was clearly of Enian design, and so Artisans weren't discussing who he was. The only confusion lay among the Enians who noted there was no emblem on Porter's warmachine, and no majors could claim Porter was a part of their own squad.

It wouldn't take long, though. They would come after him soon enough, and he was always watching around him for which Goliath would become his next enemy, instead of the Bahari he was slicing through. There was no end to the creatures. The swarms of them were bursting up from underground, in numbers dwarfing what Porter had seen up north. Thousands of tiny Jahari were flooding up out of the Breach, scrambling to slaughter the human armies beneath the feet of the Goliaths. Each of them was some sort of mutant form of a person, their biology altered in the strangest ways to provide them with a variety of advantages, or at least what they considered advantages.

For as distorted as the Jahari looked, they never acted like it, always moving past each other with ease and coordination. Their scattered swarms of numbers never bumped into each other, never improperly crossed paths, and were always organized, even though they appeared to be a mass of chaos and confusion and bodies from the outside. Porter had to play a patient game with them; charging in recklessly to try and chop through them was the trap they were setting, and it was the reason Chase wasn't beside Porter at this moment.

Another Bahari leaped out at the teen, massive claws extending out in front of it as it sought out Porter in the cockpit. A concussive blow struck the side of its head, a collection of munitions blasting straight through its hybrid skin-machine skull, piercing through the other side in a gore-filled spurt. The creature's body twisted with the impact, sending it spinning sideways, letting Porter easily dodge its attack.

"As I said, I need a report, soldier." The major stepped forwards from Porter's peripheral vision, standing over the body of the defeated beast. The pilot began to step backwards slightly, slowly searching for an out in the situation. At least the shotgun hadn't been fired at him, and he had been spared a surprise attack, but he didn't feel like going toe-to-toe with a theoretical ally if he didn't have to.

"You think I won't recognize you? Think I won't know who you are?" The gun swung forwards in the hand of the major, his crest of honour emblazoned across the barrels. His black Goliath with red trim and finishes appeared as a reaper in front of Porter, a scythe in the form of a shotgun hung around the youth's neck now. Recognition was the last thing the young man needed.

There was contemplation in the cockpit of the White Storm. To speak and answer the questions, to try and talk his way out of it, might cause the major to recognize the voice and verify Porter was who he thought he was. But to just run away would probably result in a chase, and while Porter could certainly outrun this soldier, and just about any other, he didn't want to bring even more attention to himself.

"You made that announcement before. You're the new rebel kid." Porter rolled his eyes in the cockpit as he listened. Perfect. His viewscreen was displaying data on his soon-to-be-opponent. This was Major Carion, only recently promoted prior to this confrontation, for his valor during some fights against Jahari outbreaks. That was always the reason now for anyone to move up in ranks, according to Sigma's constant surveillance of the world. He had always used the shotgun, though, forgoing the usual rifle that was handed out to the average soldier, so his experience with the weapon was going to be unparalleled. Not a lot of people wielded such a restrictive armament willingly.

"What's your point?" Porter figured he may as well go with this then if he was caught. He hadn't yet been shot, so that was a good thing, and he was carefully watching for any Bahari attacks that could serve as a good distraction and excuse to escape. Unfortunately, Enian forces had surged past him with Carion's arrival, and they were now relatively safe.

Carion's face appeared inside Porter's cockpit. With an answer, Porter had opened up a direct line between the two, and the teen nearly fell out of his chair when Carion fully materialized. The major's eyes were wide in clear awe and admiration, and he could barely contain a smile of excitement. "You were part of the Academy's special forces before. You were at Abertyl. You saved it from Artisan invasion back then."

Porter's mouth opened and closed a number of times, gulping at the air. He couldn't figure out what to do in this situation. "Yes...that was us," he replied, tepidly.

"I'm from Abertyl," Carion exclaimed. "I wasn't deployed there, though, I was stationed up in Marcheska, but my family still lives there. You saved their home, my home, you kept it from the Artisans."

"Right." Porter was once again seeking an out, almost certain that this was some sort of bizarre trap at this point. His eyes darted from side to side, scanning the horizon for anything that could be used to escape.

"When I heard about that, I couldn't believe it. So of course I know the White Storm! I would recognize it anywhere. I just couldn't imagine that it was really you. I'm sorry if I scared you though with the report. I wanted to confirm it was real." Carion paused to look past Porter, clearly searching for the missing teammates. "Where are the rest of them, though? Why are you here? Aren't you against the government?"

"I'm for the people," Porter answered immediately, already having dealt with the same series of questions from his own comrades on his decision to assist at the Breach. "The rest will join me, but I'm just...slightly faster."

Carion laughed, and Porter could almost physically see the tension snapping and evaporating between them. It seemed this was real, and not some sort of complex way to ensnare Porter and bring his guard down. "Yeah, exactly, you're crazy fast. You fought Sigmeund and almost beat him too, right?"

Porter's head dropped into his palms. This was a bonafide superfan it seemed, and he was on top of everything that the teen had done since Abertyl. Well, everything that was public knowledge at least. Did this mean there was a supporter sitting in this crowd, though? Were there others who felt the same way? Porter had always assumed he would only not get killed by an Enian or Artisan because an old saying along the lines of the enemy of my enemy is my friend, but he hadn't ever really thought it would be because sympathizers would step forward mid-combat.

"Yes, that happened too," Porter said. He could hear Sigma snickering lightly in the communication, and he kicked at one of his speakers. "Listen, I'm just really concerned with the war going on here, and making sure my friends are safe."

"Safe? They're all good at fighting, aren't they?"

"My fear is more about a possibly negative reception at seeing a bunch of anti-government soldiers showing up in front of the army."

"Traitor!" Porter's left arm flew up reflexively, and he deflected the downward strike from the sword as it came down at him. The force of the attack pushed him down to one knee, but he rolled away afterwards to create separation and dodge any further strikes.

"See, it's this kind of stuff I'm concerned with," Porter continued, ending his point with the example.

"You think you can declare war on the Kaiser, on the Federation, after it protected and nurtured you? You learn everything from us, are given every opportunity to survive and thrive, and you think you can walk out and call us the enemy?" The enemy pilot seemed to spit every word, each one coated in toxins.

Porter rolled out of the way of another swing, calculations and warnings flashing across his viewscreens. Only one of them pulled up information on the new enemy, but Porter didn't need it. He recognized the voice of Deshi immediately. When Porter had first joined the academy, Deshi had been a senior, a star pupil and student council president, and every teacher never stopped talking about him at every opportunity.

"Look, Deshi, this isn't a great time or place to have this discussion." The White Storm vanished, leaving behind an afterimage to be sliced through by the broadsword of Deshi. Porter reappeared at a distance once again, standing next to Carion. Every second he was in combat with the Enian, both his mind and his machine threw up hundreds of different openings and targets to strike at. He had already passed up on numerous execution opportunities but had to continuously hold back his own reflexes, still trying to determine what action he wanted to take. Even disabling Deshi was a massive risk, leaving him vulnerable to the endless slaughter pouring from the Breach. It didn't make things easier that Deshi was always known for being extremely talented even though he piloted a very standard Exo-class battlesuit. Were he in something more durable or complicated, Porter could find alternate means of knocking him out of a fight. Instead, he would have to run if he were going to get anywhere.

"What do you know of discussions? You are nothing but empty statements, false promises. The Enian Federation has fostered and protected you, its troops have served at your feet and protected families from every threat imaginable, and now you wish to turn away from it?" Deshi strapped his broadsword onto his back and withdrew his rifle, noticing his close combat skills were not a match for Porter's. "You have fought alongside us before, have been in combat, and have seen the enemy. You have tasted loss. How can you say you reject the government?"

"Tell me, Deshi, which enemy have I seen?" Porter dashed in, closing the gap between the two in an instant, twisting his body to dodge the first shot fired at him before slicing the opponent's rifle into three pieces with a scissor swing from his twin blades. "Is it the Artisans when they invade? Aren't we standing next to them now?" Porter cartwheeled away, avoiding Deshi's attempt at a grapple. "Or was it the Jahari that we summoned? The ones the Kaiser bartered with and brought out from the depths as part of an insane gambit?"

The broadsword was out again, and Porter knew he couldn't completely disarm Deshi. A rifle could easily be found somewhere else on this battlefield, with corpses of Goliaths scattered around, usually torn to pieces, but the sword would be tougher to find again. "This is war, Porter. And you take great risks in war if you think it will finally end it. You fight for ideals; I fight to save lives."

"We'll have to see which fight wins then, won't we?" The White Storm disappeared again, appearing to split in opposite directions at once. Deshi's warmachine scrambled, head swivelling in every direction in search of the missing enemy. Porter seemed to step out from the ether, suddenly standing behind Deshi. His arms came up under the armpits of Deshi's battlesuit, pinning it against his own body. A massive surge of electricity flowed across the White Storm, wrapping around both Goliaths before vanishing.

Carion was left in awe, his hand reaching forwards as he went to try and break up the fight and assist. Before he could do anything, it was over. Porter dropped Deshi's body to the ground, its circuitry temporarily overloaded and shut down. It would go through a reboot process over the next few minutes, and that would be the time Porter needed to flee the situation.

"It would seem that an idea takes another step forwards." Porter glanced over at Carion. As much as he didn't want to abandon a possible supporter midway through acquiring his help, he needed to get away from Deshi before the pilot recovered. "As I was saying, Carion, I would appreciate if you can just give a little help to my friends and make sure they don't draw a bunch of attention. They'll want to kill Jahari just as much as you will."

"Right." Carion did a small, awkward salute, before realizing his rank far exceeded Porter's complete lack of any real authority. Porter knew Carion wasn't finished speaking and could see his mouth opening on the screen, but he cut the communication, dashing away so he could return to the fray. He would have to put his faith in Carion, as well as any other sympathizers who might exist in this crowd.

For now, Porter would have to carve a path through the Jahari on his own. If he could shift the balance of this invasion and push the Jahari back underground...Porter paused his line of thinking halfway through. This time, just a small victory of the Jahari wasn't going to be enough. He needed to plunge deeper into their home, to travel into the tunnels and root them out and execute them. They had to be absolutely destroyed, thoroughly, or they would simply return ad nauseam, and would permanently be a threat to the people living on the planet. The Jahari didn't care for borders or long-term strategy. They simply appeared and attacked anything in their way.

So this time, it would be a slaughter. It would have to be the end so that there could be a new beginning.

"Interesting approach to knocking out allies. Think you can do it a thousand times?"

"Very funny, Sigma." Porter shook his head at his brother, slowing down as he approached the new line of combat where the Jahari clashed with a cluster of Artisan fighters. "I'm going to assume that if I go deep into this mess, nobody will try to haul me back out so they can yell at me again."

"Fair point."

"Besides, I can probably just outrun anyone or disable them if they come at me like that again. Unless someone tells them to jump on me all at once, I should be fine."

"Hello then, Porter." The youth froze, the viewscreen automatically opening as Sigma allowed the call to come throw and linked it up. Brigadier General Marian's stern face consumed Porter's vision, cold eyes staring into the cockpit of the White Storm. "I haven't seen you in a while."