"...Extensive damage detected to key systems. Propulsion offline. Comms offline. Main power offline. Emergency power limited."

A dull ache on his forehead and an automated voice were what welcomed Aron back into the waking world. His breathing felt exceptionally loud for some reason. His eyes blurred as he opened them, red light occasionally flashing and filling the darkness of what appeared to be his cockpit. There was a very bad crack in the visor of his helmet, making visibility through it a laughable matter really. He reached his hand up and fiddled with the seals on it before tossing it off his head and away.

"Ugh... what the fuck..." He felt like he'd gone a post deployment bender and mixed his booze, scrambling his brain and thoughts.

He lifted a hand to his forehead and came away with a fair bit of blood. As he shifted around he could feel an ache in his side. Pressing a hand to his lower rib-cage under his pilot suit he winced. Something was either broken or bruised. Most pilot gear was designed to absorb crash landings and keep the person alive. Now broken bones, that wasn't exactly easy to prevent and generally crashing was less common than getting destroyed outright these days honestly.

The automated voice was still reading out the damage for him and he winced as he tried to bring up a visual of the outside. Nothing. Either the image projectors were damaged on impact or there wasn't enough power for that. He let out a sigh as it was coming back to him now, his scattered brain slowly gathering itself. He'd been shot down. The battle had happened. The crash and then the impact of his head against the console. Honestly, the most surprising thing to Aron was that he was alive at all. Small mercies.

He reached down under the pilot seat and fumbled around for a latch. He pulled on it and reached into the compartment that opened, pulling out a little box. Opening it revealed some essentials. Bandages, sterilizing spray, a laser pistol sidearm, a few water purification tablets, a couple days of emergency rations and also a beacon for extraction. He took the bandages and spray out and started working on applying them to himself. He wasn't dead yet so didn't seem likely he'd be crushed in the next few minutes it would take to take care of that.

"Wonder if they'll give me the Purple Cross for this one." He mused. He could think of worse ways to get some home leave.

Once he was done tending to himself he set the remaining bandages and spray back into the survival kit and closed it back up. There was a spot on the back of most pilot suits that it would latch onto once he was up and moving out. The dark haired man rubbed at his eyes as the red flashing was making his addled head more disoriented. Without another delay he pushed the emergency release on the cockpit.

It stalled for a moment before whirring open slowly, rubble falling off the top of it and exposing him to the grey skies beyond. He grunted as he pulled himself up out of the mech and out into the world beyond. It was certainly a very rough looking world to be certain. The planet of Decar IV was located on the border of the warring stellar nations of the Vilar Republic and the Ivaran Confederation. It wasn't seen as a very high priority target that the Confederation would attack. A safe posting for most. Well. That was what the theory had been. The practice was the ruined cityscape he was looking at right now.

Was hard to say who had actually won the fighting from where he was looking. There was plenty of rubble and wreckage left behind after all. If he had to place a bet however, the distant and rather familiar quakes clued him in that there might have been Titans around. Which meant he was very likely behind the current battle lines on the Confederation side of things. Not a good place to be for a normal human.

"Right. Need to get out of the city. Into the countryside. Use the beacon and try to lay low until rescue." Aron told himself.

Easier said than done of course. All around him broken and ruined buildings formed a maze of rubble and concrete. Destroyed warmachines as well formed blocks in the roads and side streets and buildings. It would make navigating his way out of here rather difficult. Aron tried to recall where on the map he had been when he went down... before the rumble of footsteps started coming closer. A puddle nearby started to ripple on the ground. The ripples were getting bigger. More pronounced. He could hear booming voices as well.

"...Backline work. Not that I'm complaining mind you. Cleanup crew has its own fun." Came the clear voice of a towering Titan.

"Hey, could always be worse, could be the gals up in space. Was in a space engagement once. No thanks. Absolute hell. Least down here you've got some protection and their craft can't hit you from literally everywhere." Came another voice in response.

Aron knew they were coming this way most likely and so he looked around. The mech was a bad idea. Immediately thrown out. His eyes darted around and he saw a shop nearby with its roof blown off and windows blown out. It was filled with rubble as well. Closest he could get on short notice. He'd just have to hug the wall and hope they didn't notice. He darted over there and dove inside, hugging up against the wall below where the window would have been.

*Boom. Boom! BOOM!*

A massive armor clad foot thoomed down right in the center of the street, bigger than his whole body by a wide margin. Above a brunette with hair pulled into a very tight ponytail loomed, idly looking around the terrain below. Her eyes swept over the ground and noted the mech fallen and broken against one of the buildings. She let out a whistle.

"Well now, don't see one of those everyday." The woman leaned in and looked at it with a keen eye. He sucked in a breath as her leaning in might give her a better look at his current position.

Another pair of massive armored boots slammed down nearby, cracking the asphalt. A short haired woman with lovely brown skin lifted a brow as she looked at the mech. "What, one of the Reps toy suits? See a bunch of them, fuck I'm still scraping some metal bits from my boots." She remarked.

"Nah, the type of suit you dumbass. That's a Peregrine. Last gen Republic model line. Pilot must have been a vet or an ace. Those aren't even issued anymore." The woman remarked as she looked over the mech. She reached down and pried open the cockpit with her finger as easily as punching through tinfoil and tossed it over her shoulder. Her brow furrowed. "Tsk."

"What, scurried off before you could toss whatever pilot was in there in your boot, Vira?" Her partner teased.

"Hey, say what you fuckin' want, Cass. Experienced pilots, I'm telling you, the *best* playthings. They're all toughasses and shit. Makes breaking them in a challenge. Probably got squished by now. Oh well." She shrugged as she used a combat knife to peel off the ID plate off of the mech and set it on her belt.

"See that's way too much effort for me, just grab a handful of the fuckers and go to town I say." The dark skinned one remarked as she stepped past the little ruined shop.

Aron sucked in his breath as he felt the extreme danger of the situation. Some of the ruined building was wobbling as they boomed around nearby. If he moved though it might get seen by either of them in their peripheral and considering the conversation... yeah getting caught by either would be bad. The Titans were absolutely notorious for being monsters to anything smaller than them. Which was pretty much everything. Confederation culture elevated Titans as being above all others. They were the ruler caste there and normal sized folks were second class. When they kowtowed. When they didn't, well, that was why the Republic was at war.

"Challenges, Cass. I'm telling you. Makes it feel so much better." The one, Vira, chuckled a booming chuckle as she stood up straight and started walking back on their way.

Their footsteps were receding into the distance slowly but surely. The ground where they had been stepping was cracked and had imprints of their armored bootsoles upon it. Aron waited for a few moments as they moved away before stepping out from the ruined shop and into the street. He let out a gasp of breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, running his hands through his hair as the full weight of his situation fell over him. They were only two of the no doubt dozens of Titans roaming the city. If a single one of those grabbed him... that was it for him. He was dead or enslaved.

He took deep breaths to try and calm himself. It was a rough situation to be certain but not impossible. His size meant one on one he was basically a bug. However it also made moving through the city an easier prospect for him. They were big girls but they weren't able to like see or hear everything. Their senses were good, but not that good. Grimly, he also mused that if there were any other survivors they would probably be currently being used as fodder for the amusement of the Titans.

He looked up at the sun overhead. The sun on this world rose in the west and set in the easy. So judging by that, he was able to suss out what way he thought east was. Pity all of his equipment was pretty much wrecked. No use crying over that however. Aron threaded his way around the imprints of the footprints those two Titans had left behind and toward an alleyway across the way. Their size and scale when up close to them at a human scale was... mind-boggling. Big enough to crush ten humans under it without breaking stride. He'd seen it happen before. Footprints of Titans ended up being mass graves for those trod upon. Best to avoid that fate. With that grim thought in his head he headed out into the city.