Radio man with a devil's tongue

Let us answer previous chapter's question, why in Archon Urzaes' name was Alistair looking at something..other than the Griffon MK-1.

Well,

Alistair's eyes were trained on something behind the tank, he watched through the thermal vision of his helmet visor. Watching as a large mech, A Hecht H-68; The primary medium mech of the Wythrian Terran Guard, a 4.5 meter tall humanoid mech, clad in the same armour style as the rest of the Black Shackles. It emerged from the corner of a building, shaving off parts of the building as it's body scraped the building, the debris further broke off into a small rain of concrete as it hit the ground or, hit the legs of the mech. It had hind legs which connected to a part similar to a pelvis, the clever placing of the armour ensured that no joints were exposed when moving. It's 'waist' was composed of grey exoskeleton and polygonal platings housing a pivot joint to ensure 360⁰ turning. There was a turret on the 'chest' of the mech, the chest's design was akin to a 'piked hull' design of tanks. It had a tureet turret housing a long barreled 150 MM gun on top of the 'chest', similar to a head. It had arms with mechanical claws along with armoured wrist mounted guns which encompassed the entire wrist in a full circle, their size appropriate to the size of the mech's upper body, a mid-range 170 MM Netheric cannon was underslung from the mech's torso, aiming at the tank. Two red lights aimed on the enemy tank before the main weapon of the mech,

The aforementioned 150 MM gun fired on the tank, accompanied by missile launch pods on the side of the chest delivering deadly hails of explosion and lightning of Netheric energy from each of the pauldrons of the mech.

Alistair smirked, having sustained only minor damage, except his torn cloak. He raised his hand and gave a thumbs up, "Tsk, should've come earlier. Though, good job." He said, sighing.

He turns to the seven corpses of his subordinates, "You did well,"

Suddenly, the edge of Alistair's visor glowed green, signalling that someone was using the visor's cameras as surveillance and a voice is heard over his communications module, "Enjoying yourself?"

The voice is low and calm, belonging to Voxxe Vaele, communications officer of the Wythrian army, whether it be the Terran Guard, the Wave Monitors or, Soarer League; Land forces, naval forces and aerial forces respectively.

"Hm, yes, absolutely loving this." He speaks through his communication module, walking towards the now, scorched tank and inspecting it for any markings.

He opens his mouth to continue yet, Voxxe is quicker: " Be quick, we've got surroundings to clear up as well." His voice is calm and collected, still low and smooth. The sound of him leaning back in his chair is heard, given away by a faint creak.

"Hm, hm." Alistair hums, rolling his eyes.

"Be silent now, stay on standby. I'd need your assistance."

Alistair inspects the wrecked tank, the blackened metal makes it hard. Yet, he sees a symbol familiar to him; A white rectangle with an 'X' in it, from one diagonal to another.

"Ah, yes, " He mutters softly, stroking the dust off the symbol with his thumb,

"Xyresian Rebel's League," He says with a sigh, standing up.

"Long lasting thorn of resistance in the side of the Nobility." Voxxe interrupts the thoughts of Alistair, his calm and enigmatic voice both soothing and mysterious.

"Yes." Alistair says blankly, he sighs again, shaking his head.

"Why, of course,"

He says, chuckling softly before shaking his head and idly slamming his fist into the side of the wrecked V-22 Tank before he punches it violently, small studs extend from the knuckles of his gauntlet before slender arcs of Netheric Energy sweep across the metal of the tank, creating cracks and slightly rocking the vehicle, such force would be.. devastating for any organic being.

Meanwhile, in the background, the survivors are being rallied up and taken towards trucks, taken to the nearest workplace where they'll toil away for the rest of their lives.

"Of course the rebels attack on the 90th anniversay of the rise to power of the Nobility." Alistair says in a low voice, his frustration slightly evident.

The H-68 mech remained only 10 to 20 metres away from Alistair, prepared to assist in anyway if needed.

"Indeed, indeed, Alistair." Voxxe cooed, chuckling softly at how frustrated Alistair seemed.

"You little.." Alistair said, laughing in amusement.

"Yeah, yeah." Voxxe cooed back in response, enjoying how he teases Alistair.

"You know, Hecht and Veshtel make great products." Alistair brought up after sighing, tracing a finger over the turret of the Griffon MK.1

"Hm, true. Both are highly successful, giants of land military vehicles. Veshtel, founded in 1698 predates the Wythrian Nobility, think about it." He ended with a chuckle. He continued: "The Griffon may be outdated, yet still it packs a punch to infantry units."

Alistair hummed approvingly, turning to the H-68 mech, "Hecht has also got it. Though, it was founded in 1721, it still competes fiercely with Veshtel."

Voxxe responded in a low and calm voice, "Indeed, the H-68 isn't known for the firing rate of each of it's weapons, it's known for how much damage it can inflict in a split second, courtesy of it's heavy weapons which, honestly, still can reload quickly."

Alistair hummed, "Yes, yes." He smiled faintly, "Hm, the tales of Fredrick Veshtel setting up his empire at Verns and Theodus Hecht at Hernstar, the two major mineral powerhouses are only around 250 KM away, think about that." He said with a chuckle.

Voxxe cooed back again, "Indeed, true. Veshtel and Hecht remain great companies for providing the army with their harbingers of doom."

Alistair hummed again, "Hm, yet, they had humble beginnings; one a farmer and the other, an injured soldier of the 4th unification era."

Alistair had moved from the wrecked tank to the half destroyed town square where he was overseeing as survivors got loaded into trucks, many soldiers shoving them into the vehicles roughly and with little to no regard for their comfort.

He paused for a moment, thinking about the rebels and the 4th revolution before he spoke again, "You know, the rebel-"

..and..as if on cue—

He stopped for a split second before his voice grew cold, "Enemy forces, advancing rapidly towards sector 2 or, 3. 2 Armoured units spotted along with 3 Exosuits. Expect light armour and weaponry yet, fast moving targets."

Sirens from the nearby mobile command vehicle blared, the Black Shackles soldiers shoved the remaining survivors into the trucks, Alistair watched as the trucks moved behind covers, utilising both rubble and still standing infrastructure of the town as cover.

Sounds of whirring and humming wete heard, accompanied by the rythmic sounds of stomping as the H-68 Mech now moved towards Alistair, it's bipedal legs providing great movement speeds as it crushed debris under it's feet.

Alistair chuckled, "Ah well done, Voxxe. Do you possess the tongue of the devil or something?"