In the grim darkness of the 22nd century, nations fight for domination of a planet that is near-traumatized by countless deaths and screams of agony.
They bleed for a world in which the strong rule with impunity.
They die for the fickle dream of a realm which is barren by the countless firestorms that ravaged Earth over these seemingly endless, dark years.
With the creation of Savior Pods that allow pilots to survive all sorts of hits without being incapacitated or killed, the definition of war is now defined by the economy as much as by the heroism that these common soldiers show.
In this war, there are no winners.
Such is the reality of the world in which they live.
There is only nothing but death and despair…in the 22nd century.
Planes of the Italian Air Force were quick to rise up to the challenge, sending sorties to duel against the Pan-Asian fighter escorts who were aiming to establish local air superiority.
Thus far, the battle has been in favor of the Italians, downing enemy two planes for every single one lost by their side. However, Bolognese knows very well that the Air Force will soon lose the battle due to sheer attrition.
“Baseplate, this is Charlie One Actual, multiple contacts both on ground and in the air, hard to hold here without any backup.”
“Charlie One, Baseplate here. Do what you can.”
“Noted, Baseplate. Over and out.”
The longer they last, the better for us, Bolognese thought.
Meanwhile, on the ground, the Italian general gave a message to his troops.
“This will not be easy. But be rest assured that the deaths of our comrades will not be in vain. For every yard that they gain, we shall make them pay with their steel, blood and tears!”
Everyone cheered, even as the Pan-Asian Union’s air force duelled with the city’s defenders above the rapidly darkening skies of Rome.
“We march for Italy!!! Victory or DEATH!”
The second phrase was repeated by Bolognese’s troops as they board their state-of-the-art Griffins, which were armed with either Pinatas and Orkans or Pins and Tulumbas. They were the frontline troops of the Italian armed forces and they were determined to sacrifice everything for their city.
Suddenly, the city above the seven hills shook violently as they received the reply to their boast. Multiple drop pods crashed from the sky, knocking down whatever place or mech unlucky enough to be underneath it.
A voice on the radio said, “General, the old city is under heavy attack! Multiple enemy concentrations have opened up all over our perimeter as well as inside the city!”
“Give me the current situation of our strongpoints.”
“The residential quarters are also under siege, even though we are still in control of the Coliseum, the Capitoline Hill and the reclaimed old industry site!”
Without hesitating, Bolognese jumped with his jetpack to the sky. Armed with a pair of Orkans and Pinatas, his load would quickly destroy any unsuspecting enemy on his path.
He saw two Kumihos firing with their Taran plasma guns towards the old residential area as five Pattons of the Carabinieri engaged them with their Punishers, using the buildings as cover.
Good thinking, he thought.
The Carabinieri, though armed for civil disturbances and low-intensity conflicts, were never intended to go up against the cream of the crop of the Pan-Asian Union’s strike forces.
Without wasting a second, he unloaded all his weapons towards the nearest Kumiho, forcing the pilot to eject using his Savior Pod. Afterwards, he locked his sights and with a quick 45-degree turn, fired all his rockets towards the second one.
The other Kumiho double-dashed away, thinking that it could get out of range.
However, it was too late for the Asian pilot as supporting Griffins of the Italian Armed Forces showered the crippled dash bot with Pins, Tulumbas, Spirals and Hydras.
Within two minutes, the other pilot was forced to eject.
“Five Haechis with Orkans, coming at nine o’clock!” shouted an Italian pilot.
Bolognese used the jumpjet on his Griffin again, this time to get away from the incoming counter-attack.
The Italian officer let out a deep breath, for he knew that if he had been late in pressing, his mech would have been shred to pieces.
All this time, the Pan-Asian ships continued to unload hundreds of pods from the sky, intending to blot out the light from the sun.
“Gentlemen, what’s the status of your positions?”
“Capitoline Hill here, commander. We are holding well and our Zeus Fury teams have arrived to provide support. Also, we have set up multiple SAM sites here, just in case the Asians got any other ideas.”
“Very good of you, how about Industry?”
“Industry here, we are under heavy attack! The Bulgasaris are endlessly pounding us from afar, and we have already spent multiple squads to stop breakthroughs by the Kumihos!”
“Colosseum here, we are under fire, but we are able to support Industry right now. Lancelots have already been dropped to create a stronghold here for the meantime.”
“That’s some good news to hear. Vanguard!”
“Residenziale! We are reduced to 40% combat efficiency and we are surrounded by the enemy, but we will fight to the end! VICTORY or DEATH!”
“Victory is the only way! Old City?”
“Commander, requesting permission to retreat from the Old City, our forces would be better used to create a line of defense that will prevent them from reaching Capitol Hill!”
“Yes, you are right under those circumstances. Permission granted. Make sure your troops retreat in good order.”
“Thank you, sir. Victory or DEATH!”
All those words just took a minute and not before long, Bolognese was rushing to the industrial zone.
“Commander, multiple locks!”
Four lightning bolts came to his Griffin and in the space of a few seconds, he lost his front reactive armor.
“Curse these Natashas! Spydras, track them and kill them!”
“Yes, sir! Right away!”
Quick links to other fanfiction!!!
Dark Ends: A War Robots Fanfic Series
Dead City: A War Robots Fanfic Novella