Northern Ice Plains
A raging blizzard hid the road ahead.
A snowfield armored vehicle stood still amid the storm.
Its roof hatch opened, and a young man in a standard-issue military uniform climbed out. He looked into the swirling snow.
He raised a hand, pulled a mechanical pocket watch from his coat, checked the time, then glanced behind him.
Armored units stretched out behind him, packed close together across the boundless snowfield and nearly buried by the storm.
He reached into the vehicle and pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Another blizzard. Can we still reach Wente City on time?" "Commander Ivo, I'm afraid we can't," a rough voice answered. "The storm's too strong. The troops have to stop and regroup, or everyone will get separated."
"By the time the storm stops, everyone in Wente City could be dead." Ivo gripped the walkie-talkie and shouted, "Is there any way we can move quickly through the blizzard?"
"A small elite armored unit could push through, but it would still be slow," the rough voice shouted back. "With this many troops, there's no way we can make a forced march through the storm."
Ivo fell silent for a moment, then called out, "What about the Mecha Force? Can they get through?"
The voice went quiet, as though its owner were weighing the odds. Then he answered quickly, "The Mecha Force can, but we might lose quite a few Mecha."
"Then get the Mecha Force out." Ivo jumped down from the armored vehicle. "Assemble every Mecha pilot. We'll go support Wente City first."
"Commander Ivo, that won't work!" the officer shouted. "Wente City is under siege by elite forces from Rockwell Energy Group and Federal Central. Sending only the Mecha Force would be suicide."
"So we just watch Wente City fall and leave them to