"(Radio) Typhon's under orbital assault!"
"(Radio) IMC fighters on the port side!"
"(Radio) We're hit! Need backup—boom!"
"(Radio) Abandon ship! Abandon—hiss…"
"(Radio) Crashing… life pods ejected… brace for impact…"
Rumbles shook Muffin's IndieVibe X2 cabin as the radio crackled with chaos. The camera zoomed toward her plummeting escape pod, vibrations rattling her bones.
The screen flashed black. Muffin opened her eyes, strapped into the pod. Through its tiny window, she saw other pods streaking like meteors toward Typhon's surface. Smoke billowed below, machine-gun fire weaving deadly nets, missiles slamming pods mid-air.
The battlefield's raw intensity—roaring artillery, searing heat—hit her like a truck. Her breath hitched, nausea creeping in.
Huff—huff— "It's just a game… just a game…" Muffin muttered, trying to chill.
Real talk: sensory cabins always bragged "realism," but Titanfall's next-gen tech was a whole new beast. The line between game and reality blurred, forcing Muffin to mantra-chant to keep her cool.
A missile screamed past, detonating a nearby pod. The shockwave rocked her, the cabin shaking like a rollercoaster gone rogue.
"Ahhh!" she yelped, heart pounding.
The screen cut to black, her panicked breathing echoing. Chat went nuts:
"Holy—! This a game or a blockbuster?"
"Those visuals are insane—Muffin's legit spooked."
"Toes curled just watching."
"Feels like skydiving from space."
"Muffin okay? She sounds like she's crying."
Muffin sniffled, voice shaky. "I'm… fine! I got this!"
But real talk? Her soul was still catching up. Titanfall's detail was unreal—weightlessness, smoke, the whole vibe. "Shocked" didn't cut it. "Terrified" was closer.
She prayed WindyPeak wouldn't pull a horror game with this tech. That'd be a streamer's nightmare.
"Escape Pod 8, Rifleman Jack Cooper, injected with 250mg tranquilizer. Side effects may include…"
The pod's robotic voice snapped her back. The mangled hatch blew open, smoke rolling in. Muffin sneezed, coughing as the battlefield came into focus.
Night cloaked Typhon, war raging. Smoke glowed with distant flames, nearly blotting out a massive star overhead. Fighters zipped through the sky, energy blasts crisscrossing. Riflemen in her Militia gear charged a looming mountain, shouts mixing with gunfire.
Rat-a-tat!
"Take cover!"
"We're pinned!"
"Push forward!"
A rifleman's yell cut off as his head exploded in a bloody mist right in front of Muffin.
"Holy—!" she screamed, heart in her throat. No game had ever shown war this raw—blood, chaos, no filter.
The radio's static and battlefield screams spiked her blood pressure. She froze, mind blank: Who am I? Where am I? What's the plan?
Then, a familiar voice crackled through: "This is Captain Lastimosa, Rifle Corps. I've got your position, Cooper. Move to the marked point—I'm coming for you!"
Captain Jim! Muffin's soul snapped back. Right, I'm Jack Cooper, on Typhon, gotta link up with Jim!
She loaded her rifle, hyping herself. "Charge! Titans incoming! Let's move!"
But she crouched low, sneaking behind her squad like a pro camper. Chat called her out:
"LMAO, Muffin's retreating?"
"Shouts 'charge,' hides like a mouse."
"Learned that from Old Horse."
"Captain Jim: 'This kid's my star'—at hiding."
"Self-propelled hype machine."
"Muffin: 'I'm just a smurf, what can I do?'"
Dodging bullets, Muffin couldn't vibe with the war's brutality. Her squad, though? Battle-hardened. They carved a bloody path, taking heavy losses.
Fifty meters from the rendezvous—a muddy clearing—Muffin perked up. Jim's voice hit her headset: "Got you, Cooper. Preparing to land!"
Yes! Muffin bolted for cover, ready to chill until Jim's Titan dropped.
But then—"Enemy Titan!"
A rumble overhead. Muffin looked up. A massive shadow blotted out the sky.
"Oh, crap…"
Boom! A Titan crashed down, the shockwave tossing her into a rock. Her chest burned, fifth-gear pain kicking in.
The steel beast—two stories tall—lumbered toward her. Her squad's rifles pinged off it, useless. Its shoulder gun spun up.
BRRRR! Bullets tore through, blood mist rising. Soldiers dropped like flies.
Muffin got it now: Titans were game-changers, and Pilots were gods. Too bad she'd never be one. The Titan's foot loomed, ready to crush her.
Weirdly, she wasn't scared anymore. Her squad had died shielding her, despite her sneaky ways. They fought, knowing it was hopeless. Heroes.
Muffin wasn't a hero, but for once, she'd try. She raised her rifle. Rat-a-tat! Bullets sparked off the Titan, doing zilch.
Just as the foot dropped—whoosh! Missiles rained from the sky, blasting the Titan. A military-green mech—BT-7274—landed, tackling the enemy with a shoulder throw. Crash! The enemy Titan hit the dirt, rocks shattering. BT's shoulder cannon fired micro-missiles, reducing it to scrap.
Chat exploded:
"Jim's here! BT's a beast!"
"That throw was savage!"
"Mecha action figure when?!"
"IndieVibe X2 order placed!"
"+1, I'm sold!"
"Captain!" Muffin shrieked, hyped.
"Hold tight, Cooper," Lastimosa said, calm as ever. "Painkiller and sedative—hang in there."
He jabbed a needle into her thigh. Muffin's vision blurred, dizziness hitting hard.
She mumbled a reply as Lastimosa climbed back into BT. Two more enemy Titans—Apex Hunters—charged. Jim and BT danced through gunfire, downing one with ease.
But as BT raised its energy shield to face the second, a blue-purple rift cracked open behind it—a mini black hole.
Muffin's eyes widened, voice stuck. No…
A Titan with a massive alloy sword materialized, ripping BT's power core out. Sparks flew. BT collapsed.
"Jim!" Muffin gasped, helpless.
A cloaked figure—Mason "Tank" Brody—looted the battlefield. The second Hunter's cockpit opened, revealing a Pilot in heavy armor, GW logo gleaming on his Titan.
Chat buzzed:
"That logo… WindyPeak?!"
"Is that Gus Harper?!"
"Dimensional wall shattered!"
The Pilot yelled, "Eighteen hours 'til the Holy Ark's sealed! Move it, Tank!"
He stormed over, kicking Mason. Thwack! "Stop screwing around! We're not paid to scavenge!"
Mason flinched. "Alright, boss…"
The Pilot turned, his dog tag flashing: Sam Harper.
Muffin's jaw dropped. Chat lost it:
"GUS HARPER?!"
"No way—Gus made himself the bad guy?!"
"Sam Harper? That's next-level trolling!"
"Killed BT and Jim? Heartless!"
"WindyPeak's wild for this."
"Gus, you jerk!"
Muffin, livid, screamed, "Give me back BT! Give me Jim! Gus Harper, I'm done with you!"