Their lance was damaged, but operational. The enemy they had been hunting, a single opposing lance, had already destroyed two others. Though their Mechs had been battered in the fighting, only one opponent remained. As they hunted it down, their coms suddenly barked to life.

â€œAch ye ken ye have me cornered dun ye laddies? Ye â€˜ave no idea what ye donâ€™ do ye? Yeâ€™ve dunâ€™ raised a bessie â€˜foreâ€™n ye now!â€ sneered a distinctly amused female voice.

â€œHow the hell is that coming through to our channels?â€

â€œCut the chatter!â€

â€œThatâ€™s what weâ€™re trying to d-â€œ

â€œNot one oâ€™ ye is gun ta survive this, ye puggled hing-oot numpty!â€

The pilotâ€™s headsets suddenly blared bagpipe music, the shrill tones of what these pilots would never know as â€˜Scotland The Braveâ€™ piercing their skulls.

â€œYe ken aâ€™ve â€˜ad it â€˜cause ye havinâ€™ me in the corâ€™na witâ€™ me friends onna groond?â€

The bagpipes blared as the pilots desperately switched channels in an attempt to remove the music from their ears. Finally the commander shouted â€œComs off!â€ in an attempt to regain some composure.

Of course, in doing so, heâ€™d never hear the screams of the Centurion pilot in the back of the Lance who received a Gauss/SRM-6/medium laser alpha strike that absolutely shattered the LRM in the Left Torso, lighling off the ammunition and flinging the Mech to the side. Heâ€™d also hear the screeching of the bagpipes bouncing off the canyon walls more loudly than heâ€™d expect.

The Dragon pilot then signaled a â€˜negativeâ€™ to his commander as he scouted the frontal hills. And then frantically waved behind him. As the Commander turned, he saw the smoking hulk of his lance mate on the ground, as the Trebuchet beside him suddenly lurched forward, missing its right arm and right torso. â€œEmergency coms on!" he shouted.

His remaining lance mates flicked back on, â€œSir I'm hit bad! Rear armour's-â€œ as the bagpipes cut back in, followed by the enemy pilot.

â€œEnough oâ€™ yer whininâ€™ ye boggin wally doolie!â€ he heard as the Gauss and SRM6 punctured the already weak rear armour of his lance mate, the explosion rocking his Awesome backward.

The Dragon pilot had pulled behind him, and they formed up in a back-to-back defensive stance.

â€œI'm hurt sir! I'm not sure-â€œ

â€œStay together! Whoever spo-â€œ the commander tried to shout overtop of the still-blaring bagpipe music. This time, another song heâ€™d never know, â€˜Maple Leaf Foreverâ€™.

â€œYeâ€™ve â€˜ad it now ye clatty doaty donkie!â€ came over their coms as the commander nearly toppled forward, something colliding with him from behind. The torso of a Dragon came into view at his feet.

â€œâ€™Ave got a confession. Arâ€™ ye listeninâ€™? â€˜Ave got no ammo. Iâ€™m plum oot!â€

â€œAre you surrendering then!? Then turn off that damn noise!â€

â€œNoise? Noise?! Ye glaikit howlin hackit bampot, â€˜Ave got somethinâ€™ special for ye, ye mince pap!â€ She shouted, twin medium lasers raked his torso as he looked up, straight into the legs and feet of a Highlander, in time to watch them crush right through his cockpit.