[Begin Act One: End of an Empire]

//Report: Quinn, Jackson

//The bustling city of Rome.

//Italy.

//The Via Claudia.

//Temperature: 38° Celsius (100°F)

//Begin log.

Rome. City of marble and ruins. Rome's ancient history, once the life of so many a historian, was that of dominance, failure and reinvention. Just like the city of old, the Roman capital had fallen to civil war shortly before the Third World War. Rebellion ravaged Italy's capital city, with its citizens taking a stand against their complacent government. Although Italy's politicians refused to allow their country to partake in the oncoming war, they knew they would not be safe for long.

On the day the warheads were launched, many cities were targeted, including Rome. But the Italian government had been quietly preparing for the worst, fortifying Rome's infrastructure to withstand the impending devastation. When nuclear fire consumed much of the world, Rome emerged from the ashes with its technological and cultural heart intact.

In the years just prior to the Third World War, the Colosseum, once a symbol of ancient gladiatorial combat, had been transformed into the Capitoline Reactor—a subterranean fusion reactor and energy distribution hub, now integral to the city's survival in the post-war world.

With its reactor protected beneath the monument deep underground, Rome had been one of the fastest cities to rebuild after the Age of Steel Skies.

With an incredibly potent source of clean power, the Italian capital suddenly found itself part of a booming robotics craze, fueled by the emergence of Axion Industries.

However, not all was well in Rome. After the age of nuclear warheads had run its course, the Italian government was rendered destitute from the costly development of the reactor and the reconstruction of the city. Partnering with the United States, and Axion Industries, had saved their economy.

The Italian government's massive Capitoline Facility, used to house the titular reactor's energy stores and other critical components, soon served a second purpose—the world's largest mech factory.

Life was good in Rome. Axion Industries kept the Capitoline Reactor running and gave the people of Rome jobs manufacturing and shipping their mechs, dropships and IRON chips. People in Rome designed, bought and sold mechs like they were cars, creating a haven of peace built on the foundation of war.

Eleven hours after his escape from the Firmament, I walked down the sunny Via Claudia, blending into the throng of pedestrians and tourists. The afternoon sun was bright, casting dappled light through the trees lining the streets. The sunlight was just warm enough to offset the first chill of the fall season.

Storefronts buzzed with activity, and the people around me chatted in a language I couldn't understand, but found soothing nonetheless.

Beside me, Amani Cadenza held my hand, the two of us playing the part of tourists. We'd exchanged our tattered jumpsuits for casual clothes purchased from a nearby shop, disposing of our old outfits discreetly.

Despite the peaceful setting, I felt on edge. Each uncloaked dropship that passed overhead was a stark reminder of Axion's dominance in the city.

I scanned the bustling Via Claudia, taking in the vibrant scene. Even dressed in civilian clothes—a simple white t-shirt and dark blue jeans—I felt out of place.

Beside me, Amani Cadenza moved with a grace that belied her role as a soldier. Her pale skin caught the sunlight, creating a striking contrast to her vibrant red hair, which she'd tied back in a loose ponytail. Her green eyes, sharp and ever watchful, darted from storefront to storefront, absorbing the details of their surroundings. She was dressed in a soft, olive-green blouse and a pair of well-worn jeans that allowed for easy movement.

Our casual attire, though comfortable, did little to ease the tension thrumming beneath my skin. Propaganda broadcasts blared over loudspeakers and posters covered every shop window, advertising vacations for Axion officers and their families. Rome was a peaceful place, but seventy percent of the city's income depended on Axion Industries and their factory.

Despite the peaceful facade of the city, the looming presence of the Colosseum and the nearby Axion factory kept me on edge. Underneath the city's bustling exterior was a heart of iron.

We had nothing suspicious on us—no weapons, nothing that would draw undue attention—but that didn't lessen the tension I felt. The Colosseum loomed in the distance, its cylindrical walls now repurposed for something far from its original glory, the grandeur of Rome's past transformed into a symbol of its current state. Nearby, the entrance to Axion's underground factory was visible, a massive steel door embedded in the ground, its surface locked tight.

"This is a horrible idea," came a voice through my comms earpiece. The implant in my right ear restored my hearing, but also doubled as a discreet communication device.

The voice on the other end was Darius Blackwell, the former director of Axion Industries who had joined their side after witnessing the barbaric actions of his troops firsthand. His reasons for defecting were clear: he wanted revenge against Axion's Oversight Committee and a chance to save his own skin by switching sides.

Amani dropped my hand from hers, her face hardening as she activated her own communicator. Our resident technician and friend, Doctor Daniel Stonewood, had stripped everything nonessential from the regular comm headsets, reducing them to a bundle of exposed wires that were easily tucked beneath clothes or hair, making the devices nearly impossible to detect without close inspection.

"Stop talking. Keep walking," Amani snapped. Her eyes darted around, gazing up at the various security cameras that lined the street. "If this was a good idea, it would have involved dumping you off the dropship before we landed, but circumstances have changed."

Across the street, Darius flinched. Disguised in a dark red T-shirt and track pants with a flat cap pulled low over his blonde hair, he was almost unrecognizable when removed from the prim and proper business attire he usually preferred.

"Amani, I can't believe I'm saying this, but please try to work with Darius for now," I replied, attempting to keep my voice measured. "I hate this situation too, but we need his help if we're going to get the dropship back online."

Amani's glare softened slightly. "Fine," she muttered. "But the moment he gets us in and out of the factory, we're locking him back up. And if he tries to betray us, I'll kill him with my bare hands."

Darius sighed audibly. "Let me remind you, Miss Cadenza, that I was against the plan to steal dropship parts from an Axion factory. Speaking frankly, if I wanted to escape or betray you, I could have done so by now."

As much as it infuriated me, I knew that Darius was right. The only reason we had released him from his makeshift prison aboard the dropship was because Darius still had access to Axion's security systems. Despite the attempt on his life by Andros Oakley a few hours prior, nobody knew of his defection. He was our key to getting in and out of Axion's factory unnoticed, and the only person who could help us find the item we were looking for.

Dropship 13 had taken a beating from enemy Zephyrus mechs during the fall of the Firmament, but the real damage was internal—excessive use of an energy shield had shorted a number of circuits deep inside the vessel. While most could be repaired with tools the group had on hand, the ordeal had irreparably damaged the main power converter—an essential part of the ship's interior wiring. Without power, the dropship's hangar doors had failed immediately and, as we had discovered halfway across the Atlantic, so had the temperature regulators for the vessel's engines. Our pilot, Lucas Stonewood, had managed to coax the dropship across the Atlantic Ocean without overheating and destroying the engines mid-flight, but any further travel would be extremely dangerous without repairs.

The dropship was almost fifteen kilometers away, hidden in the tall stands of trees that made up the Castelporziano State Nature Reserve, and refused to take off again without a replacement converter.

Fortunately, we had landed in the mech capital of Europe.

As Amani, Darius and I neared Axion's factory entrance, the sounds of chanting grew louder. Some form of protest had erupted, filling the street with angry voices.

"Oh, just my luck," Darius muttered.

The street ahead was blocked off by police barriers, though they seemed ineffective as people leapt over them, continuing down the road toward the factory.

I exchanged a worried glance with Amani.

"What's going on up there?" Amani asked, her voice tight. "It looks like a riot."

It sounded like a riot, too. Angry chanting, most of it in frantic Italian, echoed down the street.

I tapped my earpiece, wincing at the static feedback that assaulted my hearing aid. After the Firmament had fallen, our team had lost long-range communication, but Dan had rigged up a crude, short-range solution aboard Dropship 13.

"Lucas?" I called. "You there?"

Lucas Stonewood's voice faded into focus as the signal established itself.

"Blasted feedback loop," he was muttering. "What do you need, Jackson? I thought we were maintaining radio silence."

"We've got a problem," I declared. "Can you search for information on a riot or protest in Rome?"

"We don't even have Wi-Fi anymore, Jax," Lucas sighed. "I can't understand what they're saying."

"Burn the bots," Darius responded. "Down with fascists."

Amani's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You know Italian?"

"Only a little," Darius chuckled. "You'd be surprised what you learn to secure deals with foreign clients. As they say, when in Rome, and whatnot."

"The riot is against Axion, then?" I responded.

Darius glanced at the crowd and pulled his flat cap lower.

"Can we go somewhere else, now?" He inquired, timidly.

Amani smirked.

I stood on the tips of my toes, attempting to peer over the top of the roiling mob. Sure enough, in the distance a massive steel door blocked off the entrance to a concrete tunnel. The entrance to Axion's factory was hidden behind the ten-storey tall slab of reinforced steel, easily strong enough to keep the rioters out.

Despite this, people still beat on the surface of the door, chanting loudly. The riot was in full swing, the citizens of Rome surging like a tide of angry fists and raised signs. Their chants grew louder. They leapt barriers, pushed past police.

Rome was reaching a boiling point.

"The building is in full lockdown," Amani hissed. "How the hell do we break into a facility that's already being attacked?"

Suddenly, the crowd grew in volume, voices rising in anger. Several screams filled the air, and Darius whipped his head around, searching for any attackers.

I stepped up onto a nearby bench, staring down the Via Claudia to see the doors. At the foot of the massive concrete tunnel, helmeted soldiers wearing sleek black body armor had emerged through a small service door at the base of the facility, brandishing vicious-looking rifles as they forced the crowd back at gunpoint.

Behind them was a short man wearing a grey suit. He raised his hands in a placating manner, speaking a few words of Italian into a handheld megaphone. The crowd roared with anger, surging at him, but the guards around him held them at bay.

"Darius," Amani inquired, voice dripping with accusation, "is that a friend of yours?"

"No, just a business associate," Darius sighed. "Cassius Knight, the administrator of Axion's European sales division."

"Some associate," I replied, "he's the same rank as my father was!"

Despite his small stature, Cassius Knight carried himself with a smooth sense of self-confidence. He slicked back his brown hair as he continued speaking to the infuriated crowd. As he did so, Amani glanced over at Darius, and noticed he was smiling.

"Reminiscing about your old job?" Amani prodded.

"Of course not," Darius snapped. He leaned in closer to us, breathing heavily. "I've just had a brilliant idea."