"We may not be gods, but we are no longer prey."
On Mars, the red dust stirred. Not from wind, but from power. A surface hatch, miles away from the main TRC base, slowly opened. From its depths, the TRC's Praetorian Paladin division began to pour out. These weren't infantry.
These were mechas. Bipedal war machines, towering and silent, designed for space and planetary assault. Their armor, yellow and a streak of black, an iconic theme for Terran Retribution Command. Each one hummed with contained power, optimized for zero-G combat and hostile environments.
Just above Mars orbit, a colossal ship materialized from warp space. It was the TRC's own capital ship, the dreadnought Apocalypse. Its hull, a striking blue and white, gleamed under the Martian sun. A massive, blue-white mecha, clearly a command unit, clung to its side, a silent sentinel, it was the Prometheus X-19. The Apocalypse was slightly bigger than the Arcships, a true titan of war.
