There was an ear-pounding bang, and a large cannon shell was launched from the fifteen foot tungsten barrel, lobbed through the air at mind boggling speeds.
	At the sending end of this barrel, is a large mech, with two such cannons mounted on it's back, with large gatling cannons in place of arms.
On the shoulder plate of each of the arms, was the symbol for the Dark Matter Organization, abbreviated as DMO.
	Technically, the DMO does not exist. But that's because the DMO is so good at staying hidden.
	The speciality of the DMO is stealth, and intelligence. Though it might not seem like it with this two story mech standing in the middle of a desert.
	Another blast, and the second cannon recoils backward as the white hot shell exits the barrel.
	Before the mech could fire another shot, a large blast exploded not two feet from the huge mech as an explosive artillery round impacts with the desert sand, sending the mech stumbling as it tries to maintain it's balance, each step sinking into the sand a few inches, saved only by the extra wide foot bottom.
	Inside the cockpit of this mech, was a middle aged, male human, tan skin, short hair, and flicking his hands from different controls and functions.
	The controls for his mech have been drastically simplified from when the Mech project was simply that... a project.
	"Come on you blasted machine! Work with me!" he muttered as he regained stability.
	Another blast in the sand, and it was a miss by meters, the shockwave merely shuddering the metalic hulk.
	The internal communicator crackled then a voice came through, "Artillery taken out, heavy mechs, move in!"
	With a sigh of relief that he wont be pounded by artillery shells anymore, the human powered down his dual artillery cannons and started moving forward, leaving massive footprints in the sand.
	In the distance, he could see another heavy mech advance as he did.
	Another crackle from the radio, "All forces be advised, SDTs have been detected and are on intercept courses with the heavy mechs."
	The human cursed and started flipping switches above his head when alarms started squaking, and one of the few detection screens shown a red line approaching his position.
	He cursed and jerked the controls to the side, causing his mech to make a hard strafe right just as a brightly glowing disk came out of the sands, seemingly phasing through it.
	The human looked to the other mech and saw a large cylinder with a bright, clowing end, come out of the sand, and pass right through the mech, the limbs that didnt get passed through simply dropped to the ground, being as they were not attached to anything anymore.
	"Ah shit!" the human swore and turned his attention to the large and long cylnder that stopped beside him.
	The cylinder had the tri-pinted symbol that marked it as part of Samson's army.
	The human turned the mech to face the large SDT, standing for Subterranian Displacement Transport, and opened fire with the gatling cannon arms, the rounds pounding into the SDT, shredding the ten foot thick armor, pieces and chunks flying from the impacts.
	Doors opened up below, all along it's length, and soldiers peeked out with long tubes.
	Before they fired, the man knew what they were, and started backing up to angle the mech's arms down.
	Streaks of white smoke followed the metallic cylinders of rockets as they streaked towards the mech.
	He cursed again and the rockets impacted with the dense armor, sending pieces of it flying and exposing vital systems.
	The radio crackled, "A-72, retreat to a safe distance for surgical strike."
	"About damn time!" the human replied and did as asked, turning the large mech and going as fast as the damaged walker could go.
	Before the rocket soldiers finished reloading their weapons, a Skyfox tactical bomber streaked overhead at twice the speed of sound,
	Even though the bomber passed, a sonic boom could still be heard as it's payload dropped out of supersonic speeds before slamming into the SDT, leaving puncture holes in the thick armor.
	Before the soldiers could react, the SDT bulged like a hot dog in a microwave, then exploded into a massive fireball, sending massive pieces of debris flying in all directions.
	The radio crackled yet again, "A-68, A-75, and A-77 are down, four heavy mechs remain... mech supports S-34 and S-40 are down, S 38 is grounded... All heavy mechs randevous at the coordinates given for resupply and repair."
	"This is A-72, Acknowledged and en route." the man said into his radio.
	"This is A-80, Orders recieved." another mech pilot said over the radio.
	Heavy mech pilots still alive each acknowledged the orders.
	After a minute, and a couple sand dunes, the human arrived at the coordinates, next to a mobile supply and repair depot about the size of a city block, and traveling on massive tracks designed for desert sands.
	He moved into one of the two bays, and locked his mech in position to let the mobile depot do it's work.
	Large robotic arms extended and removed the damaged armor, making the mech thinner, but not by much.
	Flipping a few switches, the ammunition storage for the back-mounted artillery extended from the exposed infrastructure.
	The artillery cannons themselves were removed as well, being replaced by huge, thick, and wide, box-shaped missile launchers.
	The artillery munitions were replaced by a great number of missiles, each the same size as those loaded onto modern day aircraft, though not as long.
	The armor was refitted, and lost the lustre of being fresh shortly after being exposed to the dry, sandy conditions.
	"Stand by and wait for further orders," the radio told the human pilot.
	He backed out of the maintenance bay and did as he was told as another mech entered, looking a bit more battered than he was.
	All mech pilots were allowed to give their mechs custom paint jobs, and the human pilot gave his a desert camo paint job, with aces on the chest, as his nickname was 'Lucky Dan'.
	A squad of smaller mechs, half the size of the heavies, chicken-legged, fast-strike support mechs, without arms, just an arrowhead-like, swivel-mounted body, on a pair of reverse-jointed, and agile legs.
	Each small mech has two weapon hardpoints behind the cockpit. A third of the squad has missile launchers, while another third has auto-cannons, and the last third has railguns meant for pinpoint damage.
	There were four bays for the smaller mechs, and they each entered to get resupplied.
	"A-72, A-74, and A-80, you are to join S-29 and flank the northern side of the city." the radio announced.
	The human leaned forward, "But S-29 came from the northern side, are we to run into fortified defenses?"
	"Negative, we merely scouted the area, and there is light resistance, until the city limits," replied a female voice.
	"Very well, orders acknowledged command," he finished.

	Once in position, the eight pint-sized mechs kept a parimeter around the larger mechs, keeping their heads on a swivel, literally.
	Then the order came, and the three large mechs started their approach, each step rumbling the ground.
	As they approached, large helecopters, dubbed 'Buzzards' by the DMO, rose from deep within the Iranian city.
	"Buzzards spotted, initial count fifteen," the human pilot announced ont he radio.
	"Copy that A-72, Air support is on it's way," Command responded.
	The female from before chimed in on the radio, "Domo's inbound!"
	She referred to the heavy, brown, dual-cannon tanks, nicknamed 'Domo'.
	"A-74 intercepting," responded the heavy mech with large cannons for arms.
	With loud bangs, large shells were lobbed at the Domos, making large holes where they impacted.
	"I'll take out the AM nests, keep those buzzards off my ass!" the human announced.
	"Affirmative," the female replied.
	Large missiles streaked from the back-mounted missile launchers, and streaked towards several of the numerous Anti-Mech nests mounted ont he rooftops.
	Flares erupted from each targetted nest, lighting the sunny desert sky even brighter than it was before, and sending half of the missiled arcong upwards towards the flares.
	Those that werent diverted, impacted and the nests hit were destroyed in a brilliant display.
	The remaining nests were assaulted by a barrage of gatling cannon fire.
	"Alright, clear!" he announced.
	"Domos destroyed," announced the other heavy mech.
	The buzzards drew nearer, and the third heavy mech launched it's salvo of missiles and fired the flak cannons mounted where the arms would be, taking one out instantly, and giving the others a hell of a time.
	The smaller mechs with railguns fired upon the buzzards, and dealt heavy damage.
	A small coud of dark specks could be seen in the distance as the Unmanned VTOL Drones, the air support, was approaching.
	The buzzards made it overhead, and started dropping their payloads of napalm bombs.
	"Evasive maneuvers!" shouted the female on the radio, the smaller mechs all scattered like kids on a playground, avoiding the bombs.
	The heavy mechs weren't fast enough to avoid the boms, or flames, and were splattered with napalm, igniting them into giant balls of flame.
	A-72's entire right side was in flames and alarms were going off, indicating overheating, internal damage, andammunition heat levels reaching critical.
	One of the missiles in the active salvo exploded, mutilating the launcher, and causing a chain reaction, as each missile started exploding one by one.
	The pilot cursed, and slammed an emergency eject button, causing a portion of his armor to blow apart, and the munitions bay ejected, sending the numerous missiled to the ground, where they exploded, leaving craters in the burning sand.
	The launcher ejection mechanism was damaged when the missile exploded, making it impossible to eject.
	The remaining missiles in the launcher exploded, blowing off the right arm, and knocking the mech sideways, stumbling, more alarms going off as the fire spread to the critical systems.
	He yanked at the pilot ejection, causing the back of his mech to blow apart, then a small pod was launched as the core was set to overload, not that it wasnt going to anyway.
	A few seconds later, the mech detonated, creating an explosion the size of a city block, and a crater just as large, and missing the other mechs.
	The cloud of drones of varying sizes finally arrived, and engaged the buzzards, they all looked like oversized boxes with beveled edges and VTOL equipmen with guns, but maneuvered better than you would expect.
	The jettisonned pod containing the pilot of the heavy mech landed in a dand dune and was now half-bueried.
	Another of Samson's army, a pod-eater, a robot that searched for jettisoned escape pods from mechs and tore into them to get at the occupants, skittered around the sands, following the distress signal that all pods are eqiopped with.
	It found the pod, and prepared to bore into the shell, before it was blasted to bits.
	Up trotted the mech of the female from before.
	"A-72's pod has been located and secured. Waiting for pickup," she notified command.
	The male pilot shook off the shock from the ejection and impact, "Heh, I guess I owe you one!"
	"Don't worry about it," she returned.
	The male pilot kicked at the hatch, eventually getting it open, letting in the bright sunshine.
	The distant sounds of battle could be heard over the soft pur of the light mech's motors.
	As standard procedure, each pilot has training in at least one small arms group, and the human chose assault rifles, so his pod was equipped with an assault rifle, and pistol.
	Energy weapons havent been fully researched yet, so the world still uses conventional weaponry.
	A buzzard wreck nearby was occupied by a heavy weapons soldier.
	The anthro soldier saw the light mech and whipped out his rocket launcher, loading a Krak rocket, meant to take down mechs and were expensive to produce.
	The male pilot saw this and took aim, seeing as the mech had it's back turned.
	The pilot, and the soldier, both pulled the trigger at the same time, but the bullet was much faster than the rocket, and veered with a gust of wind, and knicked the rocket, causing it to detonate, creating a large blue explosion that erased the buzzard wreck from existence.
	The mech turned and saw the blue explosion dissolve.
	Her mech turned it's head and angled it down to him, "Thanks."
	"You're welcome," he answered, "Maybe we can have dinner, or coffee sometime?"
	The female laughed, and the mech returned to it's survey.
	"Sure, but first, let's get our asses out of here alive," she concluded.
	"I'm fine with that." he said and brought his gun to a ready position while they waited for evac.
	"If we're to have that meet, might as well get eachother's names. Mine's  Ken." the man stated.
	"Tiffany. I am the sargeant of S-29, should be easy to find me."
	The mech stot at a group of soldiers who returned fire, but were powerless against the walker.
	A fast transport arrived, and landed, similar to the unmanned drones in shape and design, except it had a passenger compartment.
	"Here's my ride, don't get yourself in the same situation, I wont be there to save your ass!" Ken said, leaving Tiffany with that.