Prologue

<p>     Jax Strider huddled close to his TV late at night. He would secretly watch old Panzerherz war documentaries in his bedroom. His father disapproved of his son's strange fascination with Panzerherz. Jax loved these old documentaries, the way they depicted the twenty-five-feet-tall behemoths of mechanized metal dance through the fires of the battlefield. Experienced pilots knew how to move these giant pieces of machinery with such fluidity and grace. It was beautiful to watch. His favorite pilot was Clayton "Clay" Briggs, who always went into battle with an FG-12C, or simply called Rapture. It had a light frame to allow high agility and thrusters on it's back for quick dashing and a small amount of air maneuverability.<br/><br/>     One particular scene never failed to captivate Jax; he would rewind and watch it over and over again. The Rapture carved through nearly a dozen enemy Panzerherz in less than ninety seconds. Its thrusters blasted orange, propelling it into the air with a flip, then another burst sent it hurtling toward the ground, landing right in the middle of the enemy and crushing one of them upon impact. Then the dance commenced.<br/><br/>     The Rapture's plasma sword sliced through metal with ease, a set of missiles launched from the canister on it's right shoulder and twirled in the air with a trail of smoke before exploding on impact. The menacing glow of bullets screamed into the air, narrowly missing him or glancing off the Rapture's armor. As soon as it started, it was over. The Rapture stood there triumphant in the middle of the battlefield, surrounded by torn-apart machines, fire, and smoke.<br/><br/>     Jax's eyes widened with awe, his mouth curled into a large smile trying to hold back his excitement until he couldn't anymore and shouted, "THAT WAS SO COOL!" while raising his arms in the air. He quickly covered his mouth and stared at his door with fear of his parents crashing through. He quickly turned off his TV and jumped under his covers. He heard his door open slowly. He laid there as still as possible, holding his breath and closed his eyes tightly. He heard a sigh, "Goodnight, my little Nighthawk." His mother said, quickly calming Jax. Nighthawk was what his mother called him whenever they played Panzerherz together in the backyard. Soon after his mother closed the door, Jax fell fast asleep.</p>