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THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP

The deep, loud props of propellers whipping through the air filled the quiet Southern California night. A pair of immense and mighty V-120 Valkyrie transport VTOLs sped through sky; their quad rotors shifting ever so slightly to help the aircraft descend as they approached their destination.

"ETA: Sixty seconds." One of the pilots spoke over the comlink to the Valkyrie's invaluable occupants.

Within the troop bay, a red light flickered to life and the reaction was immediate. A group of six heavily armed and highly armored men prepared for landing; the squad checked and rechecked their weapons and equipment in a precise orchestra of clicks.

"Marines! I want tactical columns down the ramps! Secure the LZ soon as the bird hits the deck!" The leader of the group of men shouted his out orders over the roar of the transport's engines.

"Wilco sir." A voice replied into the leader's ear piece. Only seconds later, the Valkyries landed on a strip of dirt in middle of a forest. Within the bay, the red light changed to green, the ramp lowered and the squad were up and out.

"Go! Go! Go!" Heavy footsteps thundered as they hit the dirt. Huge, armored, mechanized men exited both transports and took up defensive positions. A high pitched whining sound echoed as a minigun powered up, a Marine scanning the nearby tree line for any signs of danger.

The leader nodded his head in approval as his men secured the landing zone. He then keyed his mike in and summoned the pilots of the V-120s.

"Vulture Two-Four; we're go to go here, over?"

"Copy that Bravo Six. Vulture is close to bingo fuel. We're bugging out but will be back on station for evac in ten mikes, how copy?"

"Solid on that. Bravo Six out." The Valkyries took off from the landing zone and headed back the way they came, leaving behind the group of eleven men.

"Alright, let's get moving!" Bravo Six ordered his squad and they began moving through the forest; thunderous footfalls followed every step they took. The shining moonlight caught a quick glimpse of thick, green platted armor and a pair of thin, slit-like optics that burned a brilliant gold. The sight lasted only a split second though as the huge, metallic man disappeared into the thick forest tree line, along with the rest of his squad.

The forest area seemed to stretch on forever, but eventually halted at the base of a large cliff which overlooked a small valley. The roar of engines and treaded vehicles resonated from below and the group of armored men surveyed the area thoroughly.

"First Sergeant." Bravo Six spoke to one of his fellow metal giants.

"Sir?"

"What do you estimate their numbers to be?"

The First Sergeant glanced back towards the valley, taking in as many details as possible before answering. "Hostile troops: company strength. Being supported by a platoon of armor; Abrams and Bradley's all around." Bravo Six nodded, taking in the information and coming up with a strategy.

"Alright, form up." The squad made a school circle around their leader, who brought up a GPS map of the nearby valley over his HUD and transferred the data to the others.

"First Sergeant Mitchell. I need you to take your team and circle around the enemy's flank near Grid E-12." The First Sergeant nodded and glanced to the four men next to him, they all acknowledged him with another nod, understanding what they must do, and focused again on the briefing.

"The rest of us will engage the hostile armor head on and divert attention. Mitchell, when I give the order, I'll be counting on you to hit their flanks, heavy and hard."

"You can count on us sir." The Sergeant reassured his CO.

He nodded. "Okay then. Gung-Ho?" The squad's response was without any hesitation.

"Oorah!"

The group then began to move. Mitchell and his team beginning a climb down the cliff, stealthily. Bravo Six and the others flipped the safeties off their weapons, took a few steps back and took a final last, long look towards the Cliffside. In another time, a cliff like that would have been an obstacle that could've slowed down a unit a considerable amount of time.

But not to these men. Quite the opposite. Bravo Six took a steady step forward before running top speed and jumping off. He free fell for a split second before four separate thrusters on his mechanized back ignited to life and he jet through the air. Behind him, five other engines flared to life and suddenly six Marines were flying through the sky, descending toward their target. With the obvious exception of the squad; the night air was still and quiet for a moment…

And then came the tracer fire. It lit up the night sky, lead and bullets flying through the air, zipping past the flying Marines, a few striking them and bouncing off armored platting.

In a sudden rash decision, Bravo Six cut off all power to his jump jets and fell several dozens of feet to the valley floor. Taking hint, the others followed suit and all free fell to ground. Upon impact, each man created a small explosion of dirt and rock; a thick dust cloud, equal to the effects of a smoke grenade, rose and obscured any sight of the squad.

Then out of the cloud, six weapons opened up and returned fire. Their aim was deadly accurate. A dozen enemy soldiers were painted blood red under the hailstorm of fire. The six armored Marines came charging out of the cloud, guns blazing.

Bravo Six fired his rifle, an M83, in several short controlled bursts. The Barret M83 .50 Caliber, was to it's heart, a heavily modified M82; and basically a textbook definition of the term overkill. While the M82 was designed as a heavy penetrating anti-material sniper rifle; the M83 was designed for assault in mind. While still firing the fearsome .50 Caliber round, this model utilizes a huge 30 round clip and is capable of both semi and fully automatic fire.

The Barret M83 .50 Cal assault rifle. Once thought to be an impossibility, now currently pouring down hate on a company of retreating infantry. The poor bastards.

Suddenly, the ground in front of Bravo Six exploded in a brilliant display of firepower. Dirt and debris flying outwards and pelting the Marines.

Must be the tanks. Bravo Six immediately shifted his optics to the source of the cannon fire. His tracking computer targeting multiple heavy duty targets currently approaching from the horizon. Four Bradleys, two Abrams. I feel loved…

"Go evasive!" He yelled into his comm while activating his jump jets and just narrowly dodging another tank shell from the second Abrams. His fellow squad mates did the same and they effectively evaded both 120 mm and 25 mm incoming rounds.

"Whoa!" One of the Marines had a tank shell fly right by his visor, missing by mere inches.

Getting a bit too close for comfort, better end this…

"Mitchell! Do it!"

"Keep the pressure on' em! Keep up the fire!"

The Sergeant in command of the M2A3 Bradley infantry fighting vehicle or IFV, continued to bark out orders to his crew and to others over company wide comms. Those armored mech suits were ripping their infantry to pieces and they were just too damn fast to hit with the Abrams main gun. The Bradley's 25 mm chain gun was their best bet to end this, but those guys out there were still fast enough to outrun most of their shots.

"Do not let up! Do not let them-" Suddenly, the IFV shook with a loud clank.

"S-Sergeant!" The Bradley's gunner yelped, his face in shock and disbelief.

"What? What is it?" The Sergeant frowned as he received no reply from the gunner, only a bewildered stare. The Bradley's driver had also glanced back to the Sergeant and he too was wide eyed. Wary, the Sergeant unlocked the Bradley's hatch and popped his head out to take a peek.

His face fell.

The main gun of the Bradley, the M242 Bushmaster auto cannon, was mangled, twisted and completely bent at an angle. It would be impossible to fire the main gun now.

Another loud clank to the right caught the Sergeant's attention. He turned his head and saw quite the sight.

Aboard their allied Bradley, one of the mech suits sat, hanging off the side. With one of it's powerful arms, it grasped the Bushmaster gun and twisted it upwards with a loud creak. When the mech was finished, it activated it jets and jumped to the next Bradley and proceeded to do the same.

"Shit!" The Sergeant exclaimed, shutting the hatch and going for his radio. He had to warn the two Abrams and final Bradley before they fall victim. But before he could speak, the roof of the Bradley was torn open. The crew looked up, fearfully and met the unmerciful gaze of one of the mech suits. The mech waved a metallic hand down at them, amused, and then dropped a small device into the IFV. The crew stared at the device with dread and nearly pissed themselves as they realized what it was.

"Oh fuc-"

First Sergeant Thomas Mitchell smiled to himself as he jumped away from the Bradley, whose inside was now stained crimson. He landed on the next, ripped open the hatch and proceeded to drop another grenade. Mitchell continued his tactic until all the Bradley's were out of commission. Of course by this time, the two M1A2 Abrams tanks had realized the fate of their supports and had opened fire on the fire team of Marines.

"Ooof!" One of the men under Mitchell's command grunted as multiple .50 Cal rounds struck his back, deactivating the Marine's jump jets and causing him to crash into the ground.

"Man down!" Mitchell exclaimed while dodging more incoming machine gun fire. Their getting smarter; using the fifty instead of the Abrams' cannon.

"Lieutenant!" Mitchell calmly spoke over the comm. "We could use some help out here, sir."

"Acknowledged." Came Bravo Six's reply as one of the Abrams suddenly jerked upwards and flipped over, revealing a group of three mech suits that were sitting behind it. The last Abrams rotated it's cannon to them, only to fall to the same fate as it's companion, the last three members of Bravo Six's team flipping it on it's side with ease. After the lost of the tanks, the rest of the battle was over quickly as the squad of mechanized Marines quickly mopped up any surviving soldiers and regrouped.

"Mitchell, how's Alvaro?" Bravo Six; the Lieutenant asked the Sergeant.

"I'm good sir." Alvaro spoke on Mitchell's behalf, walking over to the squad with his First Sergeant in tow.

"You sure Corporal?" Questioned the Lieutenant, taking note that Alvaro's mech had smoke billowing from it's backside, his jump jets malfunctioning.

"Jump jets sir." The Corporal shook his armored head and reassured the officer. "Engines One through Three are offline; Four is sparking. But all other systems are in the green, sir."

"Good. Let's get this done." The Lieutenant walked over to what the enemy were so desperate to defend: a group of sandbags, set up around a single blue colored flag. The flag was designed with a Big Red 1, and over it was a tank being struck with a lightning bolt. The text: 1st Tank Battalion, stenciled above and below the design. Immediately after grabbing the flag, text scrolled over the Lieutenant's Heads Up Display, as well as everyone's else's.

CELER, SILENS, MORTALIS. FORCE RECON STANDS ABOVE ALL OTHERS.

"And that's a wrap people!" A different voice, more authoritative than Bravo Six, spoke over the comm. "Evac is on the way, and medical teams are on station. Great job Marines. The beer is on me tonight!"

"With all do repect sir." The Lieutenant grinned, "You do realize just how big of a mistake your making, right?"

The man over the comm laughed. "I don't plan on spending much, Davis. I said Beer, not booze."

"Awww!" One of the Marine complained. "Come on sir! Don't hold out on us!"

"Sorry Tatsuta. But I can't really promise anything with my superiors in the room with me…"

"Point made Captain." Lieutenant Marc Davis rushed a reply before Tatsuta had a chance to say something. "I'll keep'em in line. Six Out"

"HEY! TANKERS!" Lance Corporal Crenshaw yelled over his mech's external speakers, shouting out to the men of the 1st Tank Battalion, who were busy picking themselves up off the ground. He pumped a fist in the air and stuck up his middle finger. "SUCK IT!"

"Enough Jamie." Corporal Dempsey sighed. Armored plates on his mech slid out of the way and he squirmed out of the exoskeleton. "Let'em sulk in peace." He said, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

"What? We won. We should be allowed to gloat."

"Hey! Recon!" A voice called out and Dempsey turned to see a squad of Marines walking towards him. He noted with amusement that each man had some sort of stain of red paint splattered on their outfit. Signally that each one was hit, and designated KIA in the earlier war-game.

"Can I help you with something Staff Sergeant?" Dempsey asked.

"Yeah. You can." If the Staff Sergeant was angry over losing the exercise; he wasn't even bothering to hide it. "We still have men stuck inside the Abrams! And I don't have a big ass robot to help get them out! So if you would mind…?!"

"Sorry about that Staff Sergeant." Davis said, walking over. Clad in a skin tight jumpsuit with a standard MARPAT design. "We'll handle that. In the mean time, get your men together. If you have any wounded, get them prep for evac. We have Huey's on the way." Davis let a small smile cross his lips as he saw the SSgt's left eyebrow twitch as he took note of the Davis' rank, being superior to his own.

"Yes sir." The Staff Sergeant grumbled, collected his squad, and left to gather his platoon. Dempsey and Crenshaw (Who had also exited his mech) did not even bother to hide their grins.

"That was a very mean thing to do LT." Crenshaw said, giving his arms a good long stretch. "But we owe you one."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Davis gave them a nod before walking back over to Mitchell and his team.

"Staff Sergeant, I'm gonna need you and your team to…help the Marines stuck within their tanks." He called out to the men still operating their suits.

"Consider it done sir." One of the armored suits nodded and began heading over to the two flipped over Abrams. He pointed out to the farthest tank away.

"Jackson, Hale, Rios. You guys take that one. Alvaro, with me." The team split and headed to their objectives. Alvaro took a hand and banged it loudly against the Abrams side.

"Hello! You guys still alive in there?"

"'Bout damn time man!" A voice, muffled through the tank, cried out. "Get us out of here!"

"Say please…"

"Go to hell! Stop screwing around!"

"Stop being so rude and mayb-"

"HURRY THE FUCK UP!"

"Jeez…" Alvaro sighed, shaking his head. "No manners. Right Top?" He said to Mitchell, who in turn, shook his head.

"Quit playing and get to work." He said, his mech bending over to grasp the Abrams, ready to flip. "We go on four." Alvaro nodded and bent over.

"Whatever you say Top." He grinned and then spoke to the tank crew. "I would suggest to brace yourselves. This might hurt a bit…"

"What!?"

"And a one, and a two and a-"

"…Three, four, five, six…"

Captain Jonathan Baker quickly counted over the number of high ranking personnel that had filled out the command center of Camp Pendleton. They had come form all corners of the UN. Generals, aides, bureaucrats, politicians, the Joint Chiefs of both the Marine Corps and the Navy; and then, in the far back, his face obscured by shadows, the commander of NERV-02.

Baker frowned. All these people had come just to see his Marines in action? Originally, this had only been a private screening to show the Joint Chiefs just what their new mechas were capable of.

The XM7 Powered Combat Exoskeleton; otherwise known as the "Wyvern", was on the drawing board long before the events of Second Impact. Before then, there were numerous arguments against having mecha as a combat system. Joints were much more prone to mechanical breakdown than the simple track and drive wheel system of an armored fighting vehicle. They also had a much higher profile than that of a tank and much more surface area to hit.

But the Captain knew that the military would eventually go do something like mecha for infantry. The standard weight that infantry soldiers were expected to carry nowadays was ridiculous! And getting heavier and heavier as time went on. A properly designed mecha would greatly amplify the capabilities of an infantry grunt. Proof was in the exercise they had just watched. A single squad of mechs completely annihilated an entire Armored Column. Now what could the whole Platoon do? The possibilities were endless.

And thus, the Wyvern were planned to be mass produced. Albeit, a bit too late to claim the title of "First Combat Ready Mecha". No that title belonged to NERV, who in their infinite wisdom, had thought that making a giant robot the size of fucking Godzilla was a good idea…

…Of course, humanity was coming under attack by giant alien monsters who were also the size of Godzilla. So in the end, things kinda worked out…

Baker shook his head furiously in an attempt to clear his head. He had to focus on his job and forget about NERV. Besides; them and their Evangelions could go bite his Wyvern's shiny, metal, as-

"Gentlemen." Baker nodded to the collect group of men sitting in front of a monitor currently playing the recording of the exercise. "I'm sure you have plenty of questions to ask…"

"Captain?" The Marine Joint Chief interrupted.

Baker blinked. "Sir?"

"Have you been reading Starship Troopers or any of the Battletech novels lately?" The General said with a small smile.

"Truthfully, General? Quite a bit." Baker grinned. "Gives a whole new meaning to Mechanized Infantry, doesn't it?"

"Well, that would explain much…" The Navy Joint Chief mused. "Your Marines are very combat efficient, Captain. But their tactics are just a bit…what's the word? Unorthodox?"

"You mean the deal with the Abrams? Remember Admiral." The Captain argued, "They had no antitank weapons available…"

"Marines are made to improvise." The USMC General summed it up for his Navy counterpart, who nodded. One of the Generals from the UN spoke next.

"Suits of these capabilities must require extreme amounts of energy. What do you use to power the Wyverns?"

Baker knew that somebody would bring this question up. Ever since the disastrous maiden flight of the Jet Alone prototype, fears of nuclear meltdown had nearly tripled in number. So much that some countries were considering shutting down reactors and boycotting any nuclear powered ships from entering their waters. Baker knew these people wouldn't like his answer…

"We have a small Americium power generator located below the waist which…"

"Wait! Wait! You mean you have a miniature nuclear reactor onboard each suit?!"

Baker sighed, dejected, there would be no way out of this one. "In a manner of speaking: Yes."

The room was instantly in an uproar. Officials on both sides arguing over the matter of the americium generators. One side pro nuclear power. The other: against it. A the arguing got so bad that a few MPs were rushed into the room; nearly restraining the Navy Admiral as he threatened a politician who had insulted his nuclear powered fleet.

Suddenly, in the far corner of the room, a figure stirred and stood up. Everyone in the room ceased their quarreling and all was quiet. The shadowed form exited the obscuring darkness to reveal an aging, dark skinned man with the words NERV stenciled on his uniform's right shoulder. He walked forward, further into the light and view of everyone else in the room, he looked right into Baker's eyes and spoke.

"How high are the risks with the reactor?" His voice was cold and emotionless.

Baker was silent for a moment, and then. "Minimal. We have a new cooling system set and in case of a meltdown; the pilot can shut down the reactor manually. Radiation is also not a problem. I've spent over a hundred hours in a Wyvern and picked up about as much radiation you would get from a sunny day at the beach." He tried to reassure the NERV commander as well as many others in the room.

"And if it everything fails and it does meltdown?" The UN General from earlier spoke again, still hesitant over the Wyverns.

"The blast will not be toodevastating. It will be on par to say…a thermobaric bomb. Not much radioactivity either."

Suddenly, the Commander of NERV-02 started to make his way to the briefing room's exit. Before he did, he locked eyes with Baker and stated: "Commander Ikari has asked for me to gather a respectable task force to provide security at NERV Headquarters. As of this moment Captain Baker, I am appointing your unit to the job." He never broke the steely gaze, didn't even blink. "In three days time, you and your men will travel with the Pacific Fleet, first to Germany, and then Tokyo-3. You will dock and then proceed to your duties at the Geofront. Gendo Ikari will give you orders from there."

"Now wait just a minute!" The USMC Joint Chief exclaimed, clearly against the plan. But before he could even finish his sentence, the NERV Commander was out the door and gone. The General swore vigurously.

Baker blinked. He still had so many questions to ask. NERV HQ had both the JSSDF and the Evangelions. What need did it have for Force Recon Operators? And why would the Pacific Fleet stop in Germany? The whole thing just smelled classified and he didn't like any bit of it.

"Is there anything we can do to stop this?" The Marine General spoke to his Navy comrade who shook his head.

"No. NERV's authority surpasses our own. All we can do is sit and obey like a loyal dog." The General swore again and the Admiral looked as if he could use a drink.

They both turned to Baker, excepting…something from him. Baker just shook his head and stood up straight.

"Well…I guess that settles it." He said to the entire audience in the room. "In three days; 1st Platoon of Bravo Company, Marine Force Reconnaissance; will be deployed to Tokyo-3 under command of Gendo Ikari of NERV HQ." He frowned. High Command wasn't gonna like this one bit…

"Well if that's the case." The USMC Chief said, standing up to shake Baker's hand. "Guess all I can do is wish you luck. Can't say I trust NERV much, but I trust in your leadership Captain. You do your Country and the Corps proud."

"Yes sir." Baker said, shaking his hand.

The Navy Chief smiled, also reaching over to grasp Baker's hand. "God help the poor bastards who get in your way son."

"Oorah sir. Oorah."

Don't even ask me where this came from. I guess I've been playing too much MechWarrior lately. But truth is that i felt that Neon Genesiscould use just a bit more mecha than the Evangelions or Jet Alone. And I've always wanted to write a fic involving FORECON so...I guess this came into existence

And as a notice; many ideas and principles in this fic do not belong to me. I am merely...borrowing. So much of the credit of technical aspects of this story will have to go to:
-Robert A. Heinlein; the Author of Starship Troopers. The man who first came up with the idea of Mecha.
-John Ringo; for the idea of Wyvern Armored Infantry
-Day 1 Studios; for the concept of BattleArmor

The look of the Wyvern Mecha is based off a picture I saw on Yahoo Images. I have a Direct Link to the picture on my profile.

Take note that I am not in the Military (Yet...) so I if screw up on Jargon or Military Discipline, please go ahead and give me a heads up.

Feel free to review. No flames please. I do realize that this is a OC fic (Which is very much frowned upon in the Evangelion fiction) but if you have a problem with my story. Either don't read, or leave an educated review.

Until Next Time
-Tomato