He could hear him coming.
That rising growl through the porthole—steady, unmistakable. Engines purring like a predator circling.
Tex didn’t have time to panic. He needed a plan.
In the air, Sky Knight would tear him apart. Faster. Better armed. Sleeker in every way. A goddamn winged executioner. If this went vertical, Tex wouldn’t stand a chance.
No, he needed one shot. One window. One moment with that smug bastard stationary.
His mind scrolled. Logs. Notes. Mission files. Personality quirks.
Then—lightning.
He snapped upright.
“R/CO, I need you to reroute audio control—fast. IP 122.54.253.85:2531.” His eyes flicked to the old jukebox. “You get a ping?”
A tense pause.
Then the blue light blinked on.
“I’m in,” R/CO growled, already working.
Tex grinned.
“Hold the connection. Wait for my word. Queue up track twenty-two.”
A chuckle rumbled back over the line.
“You’re really gonna do him that dirty?”
Tex rolled his neck, metal creaking.
“If I don’t, I’m scrap. You know that.”
“Alright, man... just make it count.”
“Oh, I will.”
He heard the landing—sharp metal toes clacking down on deck plating.
Sky Knight had arrived.
Tex exhaled and stepped out of the control tower.
Arms open. Casual. Loose.
“Sky Knight! My old friend!” he called, voice chipper. “How are ya?”
The morph loomed large.
Polished frame. Aerodynamic kill lines. Model: F-14 Super Tomcat. All business. No grace.
If the situation were different—Tex might’ve called him studly.
Instead, he clocked the scowl. The tension in his shoulders.
“You’re a traitor to the Black Suns,” Sky Knight snarled. “And you’ve got the gall to show your face here?”
Tex scoffed.
“Traitor? Please. We’re mercs—our flag’s whatever color credits come in.” He flashed a sharp grin. “What’s wrong, big guy? Forget where you are? Or did the Entente have you too busy shining boots and playing poster boy for freedom and other bedtime stories?”
Sky Knight frowned.
"Being part of something bigger than yourself is a blessing, not a curse. You can’t survive this world alone—not forever."
Tex didn’t flinch.
"I’d rather be torn down bolt by bolt free... than live one more second under the yoke."
"I could make that happen. No problem," Sky Knight said coldly, his weapons systems humming online.
"Let’s dance, big man…" Tex rumbled, his servos locking, engines flaring as both turned heel.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
They sprinted—two titans pounding down the deck, metal on metal.
Tex’s belly panel snapped open mid-run. With a heavy clang, his autoforge dropped to the deck behind him, dragging sparks as it skidded across the plating.
He slammed the panel shut with a grunt.
Every ounce counts.
Then: lift.
His engines screamed to life, wings biting into the wind as he clawed skyward—low and fast, hugging the hull like a shadow.
His aerial radar blinked on.
The hunt was on.
Tex toggled over to Radio Preset 9, forwarding his audio feed to Preset 18 so R/CO could stay looped in.
"So," he said, voice steady, "how you wanna play this? I know you’re real big on your rules of engagement."
Silence.
Just the wind slicing past his frame. The hum of targeting systems warming in the distance.
Then—
"First hit wins."
Sky Knight’s voice came through clear. Measured.
"You win—I stand aside. I win—you apologize and walk away. Clean."
Simple.
Deadly.
Tex clicked his comm once in acknowledgment.
"All right, Sir Chivalry. Let’s make it interesting."
The stakes were clear.
Win—or let Bandstand’s memory rot with the rest of this drifting tomb.
Tex hugged the broken edge of the Ark’s superstructure, keeping low, engines whisper-quiet. Every move was calculated, every inch of metal a potential shield from Sky Knight’s scanners.
Once he was spotted, it was over. He knew that.
Sky Knight’s loadout was heavier. Faster. Better in every metric that mattered.
But even the Ark seemed to know this fight had to play out.
Its automated turrets tracked them silently, refraining from fire. No warnings. No interference. Just silent, ancient optics acknowledging the duel unfolding in the clouds.
He made his move the moment he caught the shift in the engine pitch.
Sky Knight had peeked first.
Cocky. Impatient.
Not like him.
Tex would make him pay for that.
He pitched his calf-mounted elevators, tipping upward just enough to catch a glimpse—
There.
Opposite side. Opposite direction.
A spray of chaincannon fire hissed past, raking over his shoulder. Tex dipped back below cover, his systems growling from the near miss. He looped low and fast, hugging the Ark’s hull like a shadow.
He reached for the recoilless rifle slung over his shoulder, yanking it into position as he banked for a head-on angle. He tucked close to the structure—tight enough for sparks to kiss his plating—sighting along the crudely welded irons.
Then—
Sky Knight screamed into view, all thrusters and arrogance.
Tex fired.
The shell roared past the F-14’s nose, missing by twenty feet and trailing a contrail of wasted vengeance.
"Close, but no cigar, kid," Sky Knight purred over the line. He sounded amused. Like death was a game he’d already won.
Tex didn’t answer.
He dove.
Dropped hard beneath the Ark, into the twisted belly of the beast—ducking through half-collapsed gangways and rusted-out ducts, his wake shredding loose sheet metal and sending it spiraling down toward the earth.
This was his world now.
Steel. Shadow. Speed.
He wasn’t flying.
He was hunting.
Tex wedged himself into a narrow crevice in the Ark’s underbelly—tucked tight, hidden deep. It gave him just enough cover, just enough sightline.
But to land the shot?
He’d have to slow down.
Risk everything.
He waited. Tracked the glint of engines cutting low beneath the Ark, sweeping in for another pass.
Tex keyed his mic to Channel 18.
“Now.”
A sharp, sudden cry cut across the open air—bugle-clear.
Reveille.
Sky Knight locked up mid-flight.
Not from fear.
From protocol.
He stopped dead, engines flaring to hold position as he snapped into a perfect salute—one arm raised toward the flagpole atop the control tower. It wasn’t even in sight.
But the command had triggered.
His loyalty subroutine did the rest.
Tex was already in position—rifle braced, crosshairs lit.
Sky Knight’s optics widened as he realized.
Too late.
“Checkmate,” Tex whispered.
He pulled the trigger.
The round hit center mass.
A high-explosive blossom tore through Sky Knight’s chest, fire and shrapnel ripping his fuselage open like a peeled can. His fuel tanks went next, and the shockwave lit up the Ark’s underdeck in white-hot relief.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Then Sky Knight fell.
A burning pillar trailing smoke and molten steel, vanishing into the clouds below.
Tex exhaled slow through his vents.
“Loyalty’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
He kicked off the wall and rose, feathering his thrusters as he climbed back toward the deck—smoke curling beneath his boots.
"So... you happy now?" R/CO stated, slightly irked, "That was underhanded man, even for me."
"I'm just glad the last thing he got to see was that he was dead wrong about loyalty." He said with a smirk as he started to make his way up, hearing the guns starting to lock onto him as he gunned it for the control tower door, streaking up and over the deck, streaks of tracers in every direction as defensive positions clicked back into their normal functiions.
It was a narrow escape, to be sure... but he was glad he was right.
Tex leaned against the control tower’s bulkhead. No crash. No final thud. Sky Knight had vanished into smoke and silence. The scent of scorched metal still clung to the air, mingling with old memories—battles fought, brothers lost.
He closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
A silent breath for the fallen—friend and foe alike.
Sky Knight was out of the way. The path to Helga and Dollface was clearer now. But before that...
If he could make it back to the armory, he might stand a better chance of surviving whatever hell waited in D3.
That deck still tugged at him.
Something was moving down there. Something curious. Unsettling.
And Tex wasn’t the kind of guy to let questions go unanswered.
