Termination of Cocijo, Last of the Titans - Logbook Entry 43
17 Dec 2024Jordan Walke
Commander Jordan Walke - Flagship Bane | Earth OrbitSubject: Termination of Cocijo, Last of the Titans
The stars seemed to shiver in the dark expanse, a quiet canvas of stillness framing the aftermath of mankind’s most monumental battle. Where once the colossal form of Cocijo—a Titan vast enough to cast shadows over continents—had raged, there was now only the ebbing chaos of fire and molten ruin, fragments of its shattered form tumbling through the void. It was finished—or so it seemed. Commander Jordan Walke, seated in the cockpit of his Cobra MkV, Bane, knew better than to assume victory too soon.
"All ships report," Jordan’s voice cut through the calm like a blade, steady but sharp with tension.
Static crackled briefly over the comms before answers came flooding in.
"Maul, status green. Holding at two kilometers." The gravelly voice belonged to Lt. Armitage, piloting Maul, the formidable Python MkII that had hammered Cocijo’s armor with relentless railgun strikes.
"Krait still functional. Shields are cooked, but we’re floating," added Sergeant Mara Tolan, voice tight. The Krait MkII had borne the brunt of Cocijo’s final energy discharge, and though the ship drifted with superficial wounds, its resolve was unbroken.
Jordan’s hands flexed over Bane's controls as he surveyed the scene. Cocijo’s colossal body—a tangle of godlike sinew, obsidian scales, and the cooling glow of its arcane core—was breaking apart, but the sight wasn’t beautiful. It was disturbing, unnatural.
"No one should ever see this," he thought grimly, fighting the chill crawling up his spine. Titans weren’t supposed to die. They were forces of nature given form—entities older than human memory, monsters who had ruled before history carved its name into stone. And yet, Cocijo, the final one, now drifted above Earth like a dying storm.
“Commander,” Lt. Armitage’s voice cut in again. “Energy readings spiking. I don’t think it’s done.”
Jordan’s jaw tightened. “Confirmed. Standby for meltdown protocol. All ships prepare for evasive maneuvers.”
Through the cockpit glass, Cocijo’s remains glowed with sinister purpose. Where it had been pierced by the fleet’s bombing runs—Jordan’s Bane leading the surgical strikes—its core pulsed like a dying star, arcs of power leaping across the vacuum. Cocijo was entering meltdown, an event that could obliterate anything caught in its blast radius.
Jordan toggled comms to ship-wide. “Attention all crews—meltdown expected in three minutes. Pull back to safe distance on my mark. This is not a drill.”
A chorus of acknowledgments followed, but the lingering tension hummed like static in Jordan’s ears. He switched the feed to private, linking up with Mara.
“You holding up, Sergeant?”
A hollow chuckle came through. “If by holding up, you mean praying to every god who’ll listen, then yeah, Commander. I’m fine.”
Jordan smirked faintly. “Cocijo’s out of gods, Mara. It’s just us up here.”
His eyes darted to the status panel. Bane was operating nominally, a testament to the Cobra MkV’s rugged design and the faith Jordan had poured into it. The rest of the fleet—what remained of it—hovered like carrion birds awaiting a final reckoning. Maul’s silvery bulk held vigil nearby, while Krait, its engines flickering, turned slowly toward Earth’s blue horizon.
“I never thought I’d see the end of them,” Mara said, breaking the silence. Her tone carried an edge of awe. “No more Titans, Jordan. We’re the ones who did it.”
Jordan nodded to himself, though the weight of her words pressed heavily on his shoulders. The ones who did it.
His mind flashed back to the war that had consumed two decades of his life—years spent fighting creatures that defied logic and faith, watching cities crumble, and friends disappear in fire and shadow. He remembered the day the Titans first descended, colossal beings whose very presence shattered the laws of physics, turning oceans into steam and mountains into glass. Humanity had nearly given up. But not him.
Jordan’s voice dropped to a murmur, as if the void itself could hear him. “The price was high.”
It had taken three entire assault waves, thousands of munitions, and countless lives to get Cocijo where they wanted it—into orbit, away from Earth, where they could hit it with everything mankind had left. Jordan had been the architect of the final plan: a combined strike led by his fleet. He hadn’t expected to make it out alive.
“Commander, two minutes,” Armitage broke in, his gruff tone clipped. “Cocijo’s core just hit critical.”
The Titan’s glow flared, and for a moment, Jordan could have sworn he heard something. A distant wail carried through the vacuum—impossible, but undeniable. Cocijo’s death cry.
“Fall back now,” Jordan ordered. “Engines full burn. Go.”
The fleet sprang into action, engines flaring like novas as they banked hard away from the collapsing Titan. Bane’s thrusters roared, pinning Jordan to his seat as the ship shot through the darkness. He kept his eyes on the rear monitors, watching Cocijo swell with lethal energy.
"Come on. Come on..."
A flash.
The core detonated with apocalyptic fury. Jordan’s cockpit dimmed automatically as the light engulfed everything—a sun reborn, consuming Cocijo’s remains in an inferno of white and violet. Debris shot outward in jagged trails, a ring of destruction expanding far faster than any ship could flee.
Hold together, hold together.
“Shockwave inbound!” Mara yelled.
Bane rocked violently as the blast wave struck. Metal groaned. Shields whined. Jordan’s breath caught as alarms screamed through the cabin.
Seconds stretched into eternity before the chaos subsided.
When the light finally faded and silence returned, Jordan exhaled shakily, hands still locked on the controls. He scanned the monitors.
“Report,” he rasped.
Armitage came in first. “Maul intact. Shields fried, but we’re breathing.”
Mara’s voice followed, softer now. “Krait made it. Barely.”
Jordan leaned back, sweat cooling on his brow. Outside the window, Cocijo was gone. The battlefield was quiet. Earth hung below, oblivious to how close it had come to extinction.
For the first time in decades, there were no Titans left to fight.
“Mark this day,” Jordan said quietly. “Humanity’s war against the Titans is over.”
No one cheered. There was no triumph in their voices. The stars were silent, and the void loomed endlessly on.
Jordan powered down the combat systems and set a course for the fleet’s rally point.
“We’re going home.”
End Log Entry.