Armored Core: Revolution

[Caligo [Inactive]]

Armored Core 2: Another Age
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

MT/AC - As mankind moved underground, one pressing societal need was to improve the efficiency and performance of machines. A rapidly developing robot technology called Muscle Tracer (MT) technology permeated society. The MT technology advanced steadily until a breakthrough was achieved with the establishment of the standard "core concept."
Centered on the basic chassis design called the "core" or the torso, other common standards were soon adopted for various parts to be attached to the core. With the birth of a standard that permitted adaptations to various circumstances, the scope of activities of the MT was expanded even further. Naturally, the first applications were adopted along military avenues. As corporations vied for ownership of the CMT (Cored MT) and strengthened their armaments, people began calling such heavily armed and modified MT's, Armored Cores (AC's).

Storyline
Five years after the coup attempt lead by Leos Klein the Earth government struggles to realize one of its original objectives, relocating people from the underground cities to the Earth's surface. These plans are hopelessly delayed due to the fact that the government has had to shift its focus from resettlement to military buildup. A necessary move in the government's eyes, needed to keep the both the corporations and the situation on Mars in check. After facing various setbacks, the corporations that once held sway on Mars are in positions of diminished influence. This does not sit well with them and each is secretly rebuilding their personal armies in order to contend with the government's growing might. Tensions between the corporations and government are at a breaking point. With all of the government's efforts currently focused elsewhere, resentment toward the institution from the general populace is at an all time high. Tired of being neglected, people living in the underground cities have taken matters into their own hands and incidents of armed revolt are a daily occurrence.

Background
Zio Matrix - Following a failed coup attempt (through which Zio hoped to strengthen its power base by exploiting Disorder technology), the parent company sidestepped most repercussions by discreetly transferring blame to its Mars division, claiming it acted alone. Even so, Zio Matrix now toes a fine line with the government and is more circumspect in its dealings.
Emeraude - After an all-out clash with the LCC on Mars, Emeraude's position has been significantly weakened. In a bid to combat the government's increasing influence and regain lost ground, Emeraude actively pursues confrontation and is the most volatile corporate element.
Balena - Due to the Frighteners overstepping their authority, Balena and the LCC's efforts to reshuffle the power structure on Mars failed. Balena's ties with both Zio and Emeraude are all but severed, now that the company's involvement with the government is public knowledge. Balena continues to provide assistance to the government, but it is also secretly backing the Indies rebel group.
Nerves Concord - The Nerves Concord continues its role as both Arena operator and impartial middleman between the corporations and Ravens. Though siding with no one, the Nerves Concord's function perpetuates corporate rivalries.
Ravens - These are the mercenaries affiliated with the Nerves Concord. Once one registers as a Raven with the Nerves Concord, their private computer network is used to dispatch missions, buy or sell AC parts and the like.
The Earth Government - Under the tagline "The Central Union of Earth", the Earth government is exactly what its name suggests it is; a singular governmental body serving the entire planet. After the end of the subterranean era and the downfall of the Earth-based corporations the government rebuilt itself into the ruling body it was prior to the "Great Destruction". The government relies primarily on proxies like the Bureaus of Control and the LCC (Large Scale Enterprises of the Central Committee) to govern locally while it focuses on the environmental reclamation and the repopulation of Earth's surface. After being betrayed by the Frighteners, the government has become reluctant to employ Ravens unless circumstances are dire and Ravens are not allowed to enter Earth Central, the capital city of Earth.
Bureaus of Control (BOC) - Administrative bodies set in place by the government. BOC's exist in all major Earth cities and are tasked with supervising development, regulating corporate activity, and maintaining order in their respective cities and the surrounding areas. Bureau names indicate their area of jurisdiction, for example, Neo Isaac Bureau of Control.
Indies - A large, (somewhat) well-financed rebel group that plots against both the government and corporations in a bid to overthrow them and establish a new governing body. Its ranks consist mainly of the poor and disenfranchised, but a number of Ravens have taken up the cause as well.

Basic how-to-build. We're using AC2-AA mechanics here, and no PLUS. Head, Core, Arms, Legs, Booster (Not with cat track or hover legs), Generator, Radiator, and FCS required; Inside, Extension, Back Unit R, Back Unit L, Arm Unit R, Arm Unit L optional (Weapons - a good idea).

The world is a very volatile place, so much so that merc work is a very lucrative business. In recognition that some people hate mech make-up and combat, this setting also allows for groundwork/infiltration. This story will have a good deal of combat and espionage set within a futuristic, high-tech time period.

Being a Raven simply means that you can pilot an AC. It doesn't necessarily mean you are good on foot (CQC and gunmanship, for example) (Although I tend to think Ravens on the whole would be...). You can also be an old fashioned shady mercenary armed to the teeth with an assortment of firearms and explosives (I feel compelled to mention 007 and MGS here...). Even in the games, people on foot, and so in trucks and powersuits tend to have at least some role.

With that said, let's move on to the prologue...

Armored Core: Revolution

A Dance With Fate in the Pale Moonlight[/i][/u][/color]

The rain again... Damn the rain! It had been raining ever since the world had gone mad, she thought. The dark red and black reverse-joint AC fled from its 3 pursuers - pilots until recently loyal to her. Diablo now ran; its overboost engines recharging, any boost but that not worth getting shot at. The CEO of the Sketzers Group, an organization providing similar services to those of Nerves Concord, was being hunted by her own men. Her chief of staff had taken over the company she had worked so hard to build, and he now wanted her dead. Skye stopped short of a flooded drainage canal. Damn the rain! It had been raining for 4 consecutive days now! When was it going to -

Her thought was stopped short by a bazooka round slamming into the side of her mech. Diablo lurched and corrected itself under her experienced touch as the three ACs came into view. They circled her, cautiously sizing up their prey, no doubt coordinating an attack. No no, she wouldn't let that happen. Skye brought her shotgun to bear on the target before her. The enemy feinted left - directly into the path of her 2551 laserblade. The beam weapon sliced deeply into her opponent's core and left arm, rendering its blade useless. The three broke formation and began an all out assault on their former CO, weapons blazing from three directions tearing into her mech. The agile Diablo staggered a moment in the sustained fire before darting around on of the assailants. ACs do not come with a friendly fire precaution, and the pilot's allies found themselves ripping into their comrade for a moment. As it staggered, Skye's laserblade again lit up, this time tearing deeply into the other mech's core before jamming her shotgun into the wound. One, two, three shots and the mech fell back in a firey heap, explosions throwing it to the ground before the machine's generator exploded. One down, two to go, she thought.

The remaining enemies circled her with their boosters, Diablo hard pressed to hit either of them. One charged in from the side, its own 2551 laserblade alight with a cyan glow. She managed to parry the blow just in time, but another medium rocket slammed into Diablo's core, sending it off balance and allowing the other pilot a win in the blade duel, damaging her laserblade beyond use. A flurry of missiles crashed against the RJ mech, courtesy of the AC she had caught off guard at first. Diablo careened and fell over under the pressure. The adversary nearest to her put a high-end medium biped foot on Diablo's battered core, its bazooka aimed right at the pilot. The pilot's voice came through her comm link, "Goodbye, Mistress. See you in hell..." She steeled herself for the end and heard a weapon fire, although it sounded farther off to her. She chanced opening her eyes and saw the mech above her look off to its side, "What was that? Barret, did you - "

A flash of light and a grand explosion glared into Diablo's viewscreen; a back mounted grenade round tore through the other AC's shoulder and detonated in its core, the cries of the pilot cut out in static as the mech toppled sideways while it, too, exploded. "What the hell," cried the Sketzers in unison. The brilliant violet light of an overboosting armored core showed itself on her viewscreen, a rusty brown-red and dust yellow RJ flying in from across the channel. The hostile Sketzer fired a salvo of missiles at the newcomer, which were easily dodged at the cost of a single decoy. This AC wasn't too far removed from Diablo, she noticed as it scarred the ground with its feet, boosting behind its opponent. Its triple claw T/100 laserblade bit into the side of the Sketzers AC, savagely tearing into its insides. The other mech made it to face this new threat, though only to stare for a moment down the barrel of its KARASAWA-MKII. One shot from the plasma rifle headed the mech, another two were enough to pierce the core. Black smoke and crimson flame belched forth from the wound, the eruptions coursing through the mech as it fell like its comrades.

The new AC walked over to Diablo's destroyed form, kneeling back on its reverse joint legs and putting its laser rifle from the core to the ground. The mech's hatch opened, and a man clad in black and blood red slid down the incline of the Karasawa. He climbed up to Diablo's core and planted some charges, resulting in an esplosion that lanced open Diablo's core. By the time the man came back to the cockpit, Skye was unharnessed and had her sidearm drawn, instantly training it to his cloth covered head. "Huh, firey," he chuckled as he waved his hands dismissively, "Is that any way to greet your rescuer?" She shook her head once to rid the slight suprise and the rain from the hair in her face. "Come on now, put that away and follow me - we're getting you out of here."

She started to follow him on instinct, but paused, "How do I know I can trust you?"

He smirked and offered a gloved hand, "What choice do you have? Anyway, if I wanted you dead, I would have safved myself the trouble of getting wet and shot you with the Karasawa. Come on..." After a moment's hesitation, she holstered her weapon and followed him out and into his mech.

Once up the gun, he got in and beckoned for her to join him. "How am I supposed to fit in there? It's a one seater, just like any other AC!"

"You're gonna have to sit in my lap or ride in the left hand, now hurry up, I don't want to be here any longer than I have to." The thought of the rain didn't appeal to her much, so she climbed in and was strapped in in the pilot's lap. The hatch closed and secured and the mech stood upright again. Shifting its rifle into its left hand, it stooped over and picked up the bazooka left over from one of the Sketzer ACs. Without much care, it fired a few times at Diablo, destroying it.

"What the hell did you do that for!? That was my AC!"

"It was dead, and now maybe your people will think you are, too. Nobody tracks a dead woman." His mech tossed the bazooka back toward its owner and returned to normal mode, securing the Karasawa for a long stent of travel. They moved along in silence, the drone of overboost engines the only sound.

[Caligo [Inactive]]

More Prologue...

A short time later, a dozen Sketzers units came upon the ruins of the battle that had taken place on the banks of the sluice. It wasn't long before the new head of the Sketzers Group heard the news. All four of them dead, apparently an outsider got involved and headed West. No matter, that bothersome woman was gone. Now, for their next move... "Get me a line to the Indies..."

---

The night wore on and the rain continued. The Ravens traveled swiftly and silently through the night and the rusty ruins of destroyed buildings rose to meet them. The Great Destruction had left patches of desolated habitation standing, although something less than intact. "...Where are we," she asked at length.

"Somewhere safe, although not a bad place to start searching for the dead." Skye then realized that the direction finders in the AC had been disabled and that they were retracing its steps. So much for guessing.

"Why are you doing this...? You know, I'm not exactly important anymore, so I hope you weren't planning ransom." His smirk at that worried her. "What do you plan to do with me?"

"Keep you out of trouble." A worn down building's side opened to them, revealing a poorly lit make-shift hangar. "I'm a friend of the Sketzers Group. The real Sketzers Organization. Couldn't let them kill you if I could help it, Mistress Laurlie. I am sorry I cut it so close, but I left here as soon as I got the news." The rain began to lighten as the wall closed again, and Skye noticed the interior was only marginally brighter than the clouded night. The pilot began to shut down the great robot and Skye unfastened the restraints with a sigh, glad to be able to stretch her limbs soon. The cockpit opened out to a stairway held in place by the AC's hand. The generator died down and the man in black stood, "Go on..."

They took the stairs down and the pilot took the lead, guiding her through the concrete corridors of the old building. Every so often she found a symbol she would never forget - a red bird with outstretched wings within a circle of red: the Phoenix insignia. That was the callsign of the Phoenix Flame and Elite, the marking of a close friend that met his end at the hands of the Sketzers and Nerves Concord. They had staged a tragic 'rescue mission' to recover her from the base that Exor had taken her to in order to save her life - it was widely thought that the action by Nerves was meant to kill off the Ravens it invited to this mission. A few resignations and assassinations later and the discussion was dropped.

These markings were marred and faded with time, use, and abandonment, although not as much as the letters DLT she found every once in a while. Trying her best to sound conversational (and doing a good job), Skye spoke. "Do you know what these red symbols are?"

It took a moment for him to even notice them, "...Hm...? Oh... No... They were there when I found this place. I guess they're somebody's symbol. That, or graffiti."

"Oh," she said, a slight fall in her voice. She was led to a large bedroom with full amenities, if a bit dusty. It struck her as funny in a way, that despite all of the rain, things could remain stained that brown color, as if time itself caused it. She sat down on the bed, seemingly the only thing that wasn't brown-tinted, and took off her sidearm, placing it on the side table.

"What do you think those red symbols are," he asked out of the blue, but in a rather unconcerned voice.

Skye shrugged, "Kinda looks like a Phoenix..."

The man turned his head to her, something different in his eyes and tone, "...A Phoenix, huh..." She started for her sidearm, but the man was far too quick. He threw her from the bed onto her feet and swept the gun and belt from the table to the other side of the bed. "And what do you know about the Phoenix..."

Skye was shocked for a moment, but quickly shook it from herself. "I was the Sketzers CEO! Of course I know about the Phoenix! They were once our allies!" In a flash, the man in black was upon her, a flurry of strikes meeting her trained reflexes. "What the hell is this all about!? What does it matter!? They're all dead anyway!" She intercepted a blow meant for her head and threw the man aside. In response, he dropped to a knee and swept her feet out from under her. She got back up to see a pair of daggers in his hands now, and she backed away.

"They're all dead, huh... I am a friend of the Sketzers, but I have no love for those bastards in the Phoenix court!" He threw a dagger at her, the spinning blade narrowly missing her head. Skye quickly turned to pull the steel from the wall, but found her opponent's blade caressing her throat. He pulled it up against her skin, the honed edge calling forth crimson. She froze in her tracks with a slight nod. "Are you sure...? You willing to put your life on that...?"

Skye swallowed, the blade biting into her a little more. "It's the truth," she whispered, "the truth as far as the head of the Sketzers goes."

The man's arm tensed, and she just knew she was dead. "Good. Let's leave them that way." He took his blades and tossed them over the bed, then he began to remove his scarf, and his voice changed, "Like I said earlier, no one comes looking for the dead - it's better the whole world thinks we're gone. That way, they'll leave us alone."

Wait, we? What was he...? More importantly, she knew that voice! Skye spun around to face him and managed to lose her balance in the process, the man in black catching her with ease. His hazel eyes looked into her emerald ones. "Hi honey..."

Exor. "David," she cried, her world in a blur. This man was dead. He's been dead for a little over a year now. Ever since the cavern collapsed in on him and his people... "What the...!? How the...!?" The room spun. She noticed that the rain had finally stopped. Then her world went black.

[Archangel]

The hangar was strangely silent and almost unnervingly empty as he passed through. The loud click of his boots hovered through the air. At least, until he decided to quiet them down. Then they didn't make a sound. He made his way quickly across the abandoned space, his eyes drifting upwards towards the towering roof. The place was obviously built for ACs and MTs to come through, for servicing and maintenance and just general storage. Now, the place was a rundown piece of shit. Girders hung like broken spiderwebs from the ceiling. The doors were bent three different ways, and they didn't shut quite right. The ground was bumpy and the concrete broken, with the packed dirt almost coming up through the cracks. The place was a lousy mess. Made sense why he would meet them here. Most certainly did.

Still moving as silently as a ghost, the man ascended the stairs at the far end of the hangar. He had to go up a lot of stairs before he even got close to the roof of the place. Ducking a little bit, he slipped into the hallway eight stories up and closed the door behind him. Moving more like a shadow than a man, the grizzled old veteran walked down the corridor, until he reached room 885D. A small conference room. How...original. He looked left and right, like a man completely paranoid, at least six times, but felt nothing. Didn't seem like a set up. Good. Even though he had done dealings with these people before, it was never good to drop your guard. Trust no one was a motto every good mercenary lived by. And those that didn't live by it...usually didn't live at all. Not for long anyways.

Softly, he opened the door and stepped in. The woman was sitting at the table facing the door, and yet she still started in surprise as he opened it up.

"Jesus fucking Christ, don't do that! God damn it, you, my friend, are as quiet as a fucking ghost. I didn't hear a single footstep down the hall. And I usually do."

The man took a seat in a chair across from her, and studied her with steely gray eyes. She got the hint.

"Ok, fine. Want to play that way? I can deal with it. Well Calen, we've got another job for you. Obviously, or else you wouldn't be here. Here..." And she handed him over an envelope. He opened it up, and dumped the contents on the dusty old table.

"Surveillance photos and blueprints. The target is a one... William Glasgow. Big man at Zio Matrix. Basically, what we need is information. What he's been doing with the money he's been granted every 6 weeks, why he's going on a little vacation to a very pricey resort, and so on. And then, we need to have him cut us in on it. Trust me, we've got this all worked out. It's your job to get in there, pull some info from this bastard, and then strike the deal. Once you do that, your job is to get out, and get out fast. We'll have others handle the rest. Do you understand?"

The man heaved a heavy sigh, then pulled out a tiny keypad with a screen. Deftly, he punched in a bunch of letters, and then tossed it to her. She read the screen easily enough, even though it was only palm-sized.

What the fuck, Sal? Why do I always get these shit jobs lately? This is amateur BULLSHIT! Gimme something good for once, can't you?

She gave him a cold stare. "You know why you don't get the good shit anymore, Calen. You know why, and you just won't admit it. Will you?"

He snatched the keyboard from her hands, and began typing angrily. She could see it on his face, the way he scowled, the intensity in his eyes. He tossed the thing back to her, and growled deep in his throat after a second or two.

No, Sal. I won't admit it. So why don't you shut the fuck up about it?

She scowled right back at him, and they stared each other down for a second or two. Finally, she spoke. "Fine, you pretentious, ego-centric bastard. Don't take the job. See if I give a flying fuck. You don't take it, someone else will. And we'll probably pay him even less than you. How do you like that?"

He slowly took the keyboard back, and typed. When he handed it back to her, he was a lot more resigned, but still as angry.

You've got a deal. Bitch.

He rose and walked out the door, almost but not quite slamming it behind him. He was furious. Who did they think they were? What kind of backstabbing sons of bitches were they really? What did they think, giving him these shit jobs? He just wanted to go home. He would get there, lay down on the bed, and pass the fuck out. Maybe he'd feel better about this when he got up. Maybe. And then he'd see about this poor bastard. What a monkey-fuck this was gonna turn out to be. Here he was, 30 years of this job under his belt, with enough know-how and supplies to take out a fully operational mech by himself, and he was sent on a stupid little info-gathering and strongarm mission. What the fuck was the world coming to?

Thinking sourly to himself, he made his way across the hangar and out to his waiting hover unit. Sliding into the seat, he revved the engine and rocketed off across the wastelands. It would be good to get home.....

[Caligo [Inactive]]

She remembered seeing the dust, the flames, the searing heat radiating off total destruction. She had barely managed to escape by helicopter as several AC's followed for protection. Though she didn't want to leave there, she wanted to find him; The one she cared about the most. Looking back was hard enough but leaving that cavern was the hardest thing she's ever done. This memory had been fresh in her mind since the second it happened, and it's haunted her dreams ever since. Slowly she stirred awake, suddenly everything else from the present flooded back to her. There infront of her were two intent eyes watching over her, and a smile which gave her a warm welcome. "Hey, you're not gonna black out on me again, are you?"

"Erm... well I don't think so..." She blinked her eyes hard to clear them, "though I have a pounding headache."

Exor ran a hand through her tussled hair, the arm around her gave her a gentle squeeze, "I'm sorry, Skye... What for, do you think? Just the stress of today's events?"

"Um, maybe?" She flashed a smile, "Kinda had my life threatened and then saved and then attacked again," her eyes narrowed briefly as she pursed her lips, "but then it all turned out ok because it turned out to be you..." She grinned, "I think those are good enough reasons for a headache. ...Unless when I collapsed you didn't catch me."

"Oh yeah," he smiled, "because I suck at life completely and decided that after I saved your life that I'd let you get a concussion and die..." He squeezed her again to accent his point and a chuckle escaped him.

"Well you never know, I mean I could get a concussion but I might not die, in which case I could be a veggie and then I would suck at life." She burst out laughing in the total randomness of it however she was really trying hard to not think about what happened with Sketzer's, it still hadn't really sunk in.

He smirked and put both arms around her, "I never was one for my veggies, but I think you might could get me to change my mind..." He held her in a strong embrace; firm and comforting. "Maybe you should go back to sleep, hon - you're starting to get silly..." He slowly rubbed her back and pondered what he had just said. He hadn't called her that in well over a year, after everything had gotten so busy. A small sigh escaped him, something more akin to a hurried breath.

And so she was taken aback when she heard 'hon'... She looked to him then slowly allowed her head to rest against his chest, "Maybe I should... just don't get too bored." she smiled.

He smirked, I could never get bored of being around you, Laura... His mind went back to that day.... The day before he had nearly lost his life; the day so many were killed. The calm before the storm, he guessed. Perhaps not....

Exor had been visiting some friends under the guise of a Nerves Raven that had been there for some time. Outside an empty bar there, he met a female pilot that befriended him easily. After a few drinks and reminescing about times long gone, they departed; he was to walk her back to her barracks.

Unfortunately, the pair encountered a large group of thugs in the city. The Ravens defeated the brigands, taking the lives of a few, but an attacker with a poisoned knife drove his blade deep into Skye, the rare toxin affecting her almost immediately. The ensuing hovercar theft and crash into an unmarked MT led to a Phoenix AC, Aelos, their fastest unit, arriving on scene and carrying them back to the secret cavern base. There, the high technology and expertise of the central hospital in the hidden city saved her life by a hair's bredth. There was born a relationship of deep trust.

Exor held her close and whispered in her ear in a very solemn voice, "Storm and Aelos perished in the Nerves-Sketzers assault on the cavern. That's the pilot and the mech that came to our rescue after we ran into the MT..." He gently rested his chin on the top of her head, memories of that day still untarnished by time, more than a year or no.

Her heart seemed to stop, No... they saved me, they couldn't have... She slid her arms around him, grabbing handfuls of his shirt in anger and sadness. If it weren't for them, she would have been dead a long time ago. Many emotions were locked up inside Skye, she made sure she kept them in but right now she couldn't help but shed tears for them, for whats happened in past and present.

"I know, baby, I know..." No more words followed, and soon they both drifted off to sleep; each a rare constant in the other's world, living symbols of the mixing of past and present going on about them.

[Dracomancer]

OOC check the ooc forum if you're going " who is this guy?"

A few miles outside the city, an archaic MT Staggered through the grass. It was every part the cliche "junkyard special." It's parts were mismatched and rewired into a roughly humanoid form. The finish was raw unpainted steel, patches of rust, hints of old paint jobs barely peeking through. It's appearance was an ego boost to the Tin Man, but something about it's movements hinted that it was more function than fashion. A small mounted radar dish from decades past swiveled searchingly in all directions, then stopped dead facing left.

"SpEciFied OBject lOcated" said a compturized voice in the cockpit. A small ping rose from the radar screen, and a wireframe of a machine part appeared on one of the many readout panels.

"Gotcha." said a man in the cockpit, his face obstructed by an electronic visor.

The MT jerked left and sped off towards the radar speck in a streak of cyan boosters. The mech moved in rapidly on it's target, the jerked to a hault directly above the ping. On the ground lay a lighltly scorced servo motor. It reached down and lifted the servo in a shiny metalic hand.

"Computor, object analysis, dual spectrum scan #1."

"T4I ClaSs SErvo mOtor. TRAce ElemEntal AnaLiSys: CarBon-mediUm, plaNt REsidue-low, sOil-low. OxidizATion fActoR, 1.2%. EstimATed paRt effIciency, 73%.

"73%... not bad, but it'll need some repair work. I was hoping it wasn't that scorched. Still... that's enough for today.

The cyan boosters fired up again, and he headed off out of the field. In minutes, he had arrived at a deserted warehouse surrounded by trees. Long lines of rust hung from the high, boarded up windows. Junk, scrap metal, spare parts, and half made MTs were pilled around it in heaps. Some lay exposed to the rain, others were covered in blue tarps. He turned off the boosters and pressed a grey button. One large door on the warehouse side creaked open. He walked the MT into the warehouse section and steped out. He was slender but muscular, dark haired and dark eyed. There was an elusive feeling of rain about him. He wore a slightly worn light blue outfit and a black jacket. On the front of his shirt, black letters spelled out one word, "Draco." Draco walked out and the door came back down behind him.

"Hmm, rainin again," he said staring up at the clouds with a hint of a smile, "Good, i'll get ready."

Rain followed him. It had rained the day he'd found the "C1 - Cosmos", his first MT, just a broken shell at the time. It had rained the day he completed it's repairs. It rained the day he'd bet everyithing he had on a MT fight and won enough to build an AC. It had rained the day he lost everything but his mechs, the day he'd lost his life but kept on living. Since he'd come back to his bunker in this city it had rained for four days straight. Something was comming. Something big.
Draco wandered over to the front door. The window was boarded up, and on the front was a cirvular emblem. A rising phoenix in front of a blue vortex. Illegible golden letters sat faded and worn in the corner. Just below it, was a symbol, a stylized "M". He took a key from his pocket, put it in the lock, and turned it clockwise three times. A lense on a mechanical arm poped out of the wall and rested in front of his eye. A short green laser scan later, the door swung open. Inside was a dark hallway and a staricase leading down. Draco took off his jacket, hung it by the door, and headed down the stairs. Strange writting twined along both his arms. A circular blue emblem was emblazoned on the back of his shirt. The same emblem as the door.
Down in the basement was all the normal rooms of a house, a bathroom, a small and plainly furnished bedroom, a fully stocked kitchen, and a door labeled "Coms room". He went down into the kitchen, took out a bottle of light brown liquor and a shot glass, and opened the door to the coms room. It creaked open to reveal a myriad of dials and readout panels, view screens and levers. Old technology and the latest advancements mingled harmoniously into a single mass of electronics. A pre-space radar screen spun it's green line in circles. Two feet away a Zio terrain mapper generated a 3-D image out of the data. Infared and ultraviolet lenses transmited thier readouts to a split screen in the righthand corner. Draco sat in front of a keyboard and text field, putting his feet casually up on the table.

"Warehouse3, run standard post-salvage protical" he said pouring himself a drink. A smooth female computer voice hummed to life.

Running standard post-salvage protical. Average Estimated part efficiency, 68%. Total estimated material worth 6,000. Total estimated material worth after repairs 16,000. ID # scans reveal no stolen property among salvaged materials. No intruders or malfunctions detected while you were absent. Possible salvage site located in your absence. Site contains four downed and abandoned ACs. Cateloging informati...

"What?!" spat Draco, nearly choking on his drink."Four downed ACs?! Warehouse3, estimated status of downed ACs?"

AC1, medium biped, good condition. Damages to core and left arm due to laser blade contact. Minor damage due to friendly fire. High probability of salvagable parts.
AC2, medium biped, fair condition. Damages to the core due to laser blade contact and internal explosion. Severe damage to radiator due to internal explosion. Generator destroyed due to point blank force trauma. High probability of salvagable parts.
AC3, medium biped, poor condidtion. Severe damage to core, head, generator, raidiator, radar unit, and boosters due to internal explosions. Low probability of salvagable parts.
AC4, reverse joint, obliterated. Damages to laser blade and left arm unit due to laser blade contact and high velocity shells. Damages to core and right arm unit due to high velocity shells, low yield explosives and high yield explosives. Severe damages to all parts due to high energy discharge. Very low probability of salvagable parts.
Part by part analisys reveals 43% probability of...

"That's enough" said Draco, excitedly. Four abandoned AC's, at least two with high salvage probability. He could make a great haul today if he got there in time. "I'm headed out, download the coordinates to the C1 and the Spirit, then run diagnostic proticol 001 and go to standby mode." Draco took one last swig from the bottle and jumped from his chair. Heraced up the stairs, threw on his jacket and ran out to the hanger he'd just parked the C1 in moments ago. He leapt into the cockpit and flicked down the visor. The patchwork MT lurched to life with beeps, whistles, and a clank.

"CoOrdinATE TrANsFer ComPLETe. EnGAGing TaRgetiNg MAtRIX"

A large green dot matrix appeared on a display screen, a target ping emaneted from in its top left corner. Draco aimed for it and rocketed off at top speed. He'd have to scout it out with the C1 before bringing in his AC. The C1-Cosmos was much more discreet, and if it was a trap, he wanted to know ahead of time. An LED screen read "19 minutes until arrival." What an opportunity, he though. There was probably enough parts between them to make a whole AC, maybe a bit more if he was lucky. He'd sell the scrap and go out for a few drinks. Sit back in a jazz club somewhere and just sip his drink till morning snuck up. It sounded nice. Maybe he'd forget his past for a while, or at least drown it. Maybe he could water down the images of the ones he wasn't there for, wash away her face. "1 minute until arrival" read the LED screen. Draco shook off his thoughts and went back into salvage mode. On screen was four ACs, three medium bipeds and a reverse joint, just as the Warehouse3 computer had said. He locked his scanners on the first biped.

"Computer, object analisys, dual spectrum scan #3"

"SketZerS GRoUp MEdiUm BipEd. TraCE ElemEnTAL AnalISys: AmunItion qUAlity ALloys - LoW, ANimal reSIdue (hUMan) - lOw. LiFe siGns - NonE. OxIDIzaTIon FAcTor, 0.2%. EstiMATted avERage eFfICIency - 76%."

"76%! That's more than I'd hoped for from a full AC." He refocused his scan on the second biped.

"SketZerS GRoUp MEdiUm BipEd. TraCE ElemEnTAL AnalISys: AmunItion qUAlity ALloys - MeDIum, CarBOn - low, ANimal reSIdue (hUMan) - lOw. LiFe siGns - NonE. OxidizatION FACToR, 0.1%. EstiMATted avERage eFfICIency - 48%."

"Good, that's almost half."

"SketZerS GRoUp MEdiUm BipEd. TraCE ElemEnTAL AnalISys: CarbON - MedIUM, CheMIcal COolant FluiD - low, COMbuSTed BOOster feUl - low, ANimal reSIdue (hUMan) - lOw. LiFe siGns - NonE. EstiMATted avERage eFfICIency, 26%."

"26... not bad. That's about what I'd excpect from an AC wreck... Draco focused his scanning lense in on the last one. What was left of the reverse joint was obviously made from higher grade parts.

"SketZerS GRoUp Custom REverse JoinT. TraCE ElemEnTAL AnalISys: CarbON - high, ammUNItion qualiTy AlloY - low, CheMIcal COolant FluiD - low, CombUSTed BooSTer fueL - lOw. LiFe siGns - NonE. EstiMATted avERage eFfICIency, 2%."

"2%... it's just scrap now. Somebody really did a number on this one. That's a shame too, it looks like it was a higher class..." something strange caught Draco's attention. "Computer, run trace elemental analisys for animal residue (human) If there were no remains, where was the pilot?

"ScaN COMplete. No EvIdEnce of AnImAL REsidUE (HumAN)"

Draco felt uneasy at first. Then a thought crossed him. Whoever the pilot was, they weren't comming back for 2% efficiency. Still, some one out there in the city was very lucky... or rescued. Either way, four Sketzer ACs were down, and Draco wasn't going to waste time and join them. He picked out a few light parts with the C1 and headed back to Warehouse3 to ready Spirit. He had work to do.

[Archangel]

Calen loved listening to music. However, he only ever listened to classical music...ancient stuff, stuff that others didn't even consider real music. He had vast collections of it, saved on his mainframes, on tiny nanodisks, and of course in his head. He was a classical music buff, and he knew what he liked. Pierre de La Rue was his favorite. La Rue's vocal performances were astounding, and his religious masses were works of art. He was listening right now to the classic "L'homme arme", and wished for the millionth time that he could hum the tune out loud. But of course, that was impossible. Grunting and groaning and sighing, he could do. Humming? No. And speaking? Out of the question.

The hover unit sliced through the air at insane speeds, heading due south. Glasgow was in Harlen City...Zio Matrix territory, out here in the wastes. And Calen had a job to do. It was a shit job, and it was pretty much a waste of his talents, but so what? He needed the money. No such thing as retirement for a mercenary. As the music hit its crescendo, Calen saw the city skyline approaching.

It was a small place. Most of it was underground...like the proverbial iceburg. But on top, there were a few skyscrapers, a couple small factories, and a rain water collecting plant. He pulled his hover unit closer to the ground, running it pretty hot for being so close to the city, and then in a flash disappeared down one of the hundreds of tunnels dotting the area. It was dizzying, the speed at which he descended. But Calen kept his head, actually appearing quite bored with the entire thing. Soon, he dropped into the central Network, what they called the tunnel system underground that led to all the real city buildings. Such was life under the surface....dirty, short, and sour. People were trying to move back up, but it was just as bad up there. So many had expected so much out of Mars....and had been disappointed. Well...such was life. Calen was used to disappointments. He had lived far too long not to be.

Carefully, he manuvered around other traffic and headed for Center 001, also known as King's Court. Here was where the Zio Matrix bigwigs had their offices, along with their second-level flunkies and their countless accountants. Glasgow was one of those accountants. Calen had looked through all the information given, and was quite...unimpressed.

William Glasgow. Age 43, had worked for Zio Matrix for 25 years. Starting out as a mail sorter in a low-level mailroom, he had worked his way up and up and up, to that coveted prize: accountantship. Whoop-de-do. A number cruncher, and nothing more. But a big time number cruncher. He worked the papers for the boss of Zio Matrix himself, as well as the other most powerful members of the Committee. He was known for his excellent quality work, and his skill in evading the law. Zio Matrix didn't need bad publicity...it just needed its numbers to look good for the happy populace. And that was what Glasgow did. Only, lately, he seemed to be doing something else on the side. Something involving sizeable, although not suspiciously large, sums of money transfered into his account, and then mysteriously disappearing. There was no paper trail, no excess cash anywhere, and no wild expenses. Except for once. He had taken a single vacation in the last 3 months. A two week vacation to one of the most expensive resorts in the world, Santo Cano. There was definitely something going on. But it wasn't actually Calen's job to find out what it was. It was just his job to scare the little bitch until he squealed.

Parking his hover unit in the cavernous garage, Calen went to the King's Court lobby and signed himself in as a guest of one George McKinley. George McKinley probably didn't even work at Zio Matrix....Not that the receptionist gave a shit. With his new guest pass, he was given free reign over the entire office building. And the first thing he did was make his way to the lounge.

There was no better way to learn about a man than to listen to the rumors about him. Calen worked his way into the group sitting around and began asking very subtle questions with his little keypad. Quietly dropping William Glasgow's name, pretending to be a visiting friend or a relative, asking where he could find the man and "how was good old Bill doing?" He learned absolutely nothing he didn't already know. Frustrated, but not completely so, Calen made his way towards Glasgow's office. The place was larger than the other accountants' offices, and definitely in a quieter and more opulent section of the building. He walked right up to Glasgow's secretary, a pretty little brunette with doe eyes and the most incredibly perky breasts he had ever seen naturally. And these things were definitely natural. Smiling, he handed her his keypad, along with a card. The card read, "Kyle Butler, Attorney at Large". The keypad read simply,

Hi! My name's Kyle Butler. I'm here to see Mr. Glasgow. Could you tell him I need to speak with him? It's urgent."

"Why of course Mr. Butler! Just wait right here." The young woman gave him a cute and unbearably sexy smile, and as she got up, he couldn't help but watch her ass as she walked away. Damn, if he were only 30 years younger..... Sighing and shaking his head, he sat down to wait....

(OOC: Continuation later...I'm not quite done here)

[Caligo [Inactive]]

*Beep beep*

Calen's keypad blinked discreetly: [New Message]. A quick glance over his shoulder and he keyed in his passcode, the transmission opening in response. A mission request from Balena.

MISSION: Obtain And Switch Test Data
REQUESTER: Balena

INFORMATION: Hello again, Calen. A situation has presented itself that your expert skills lend themselves to. Given your success rate and silent methodology, you were naturally the first choice.

We are in need of a ground operative that can infiltrate a rival corporation's laboratory and obtain test results stored there. After the data is acquired, we have a set of false results we would like you to put onto their database in place of the originals. This should set them back significantly.

The lab holds a medium guard, partly as not to draw attention to it, and partly because most of the work done at the facility is of little importance in the long run. We have recently come by information that points to a study on a new alloy for generators. If this material is perfected, the company in possession of it will have a corner on the market for lighter, more powerful generators with applications to everything from lift bikes to MT/AC technology. We don't want our rivals to gain that edge - and this is where you come in.

They have a mandatory surprise government inspection due any day now. We will send you in to pose as this inspector with credential enough to buy you the time you should need to get in, make the switch, and get out. More details to follow upon accepting the mission.

ACCEPT - DECLINE

[Archangel]

Discretely, Calen read the little message on his keypad, and he very smugly pressed the "Accept" button. Interesting. Balena hadn't sent him a job in a long time. And this one sounded like it might actually be worth his time! He mulled over the possibilities for quite some time, his mind still fast after all these years. It seemed like a simple enough mission. Given the right credentials, Calen could infiltrate just about anywhere. And Balena was good about giving him quality alibis and fake credentials. Maybe he would use Rick Tamlin. He hadn't used that pseudonym for a while now, it was most likely safe to use it again. And Rick was an expert in MT technology. Posing as an inspector would be no problem, not at all. He had done the same thing before, back about...10 years ago. But that was another story.

Suddenly, Calen heard a cry from down the hall. He saw the pretty little secretary as she came running back down the hall, screaming her little lungs out.

"Oh my god! Please! Someone help! It's Mr. Glasgow! Please help!"

She went screaming down the corridor, yelling for anybody to help her, and Calen instantly jumped to his feet. What the hell...? Quickly, he bolted down the corridor, toward Glasgow's office. He skidded to a stop, bouncing slightly, as he reached Glasgow's door. A couple of people were rushing his way, so he didn't have long. He peered into the spacious office, and his eyes grew cold and unfeeling. This was not good.

Glasgow was in the center of the room, in a big comfortable office chair, behind his desk. His head was tossed back, his eyes open, his mouth wide. And his arms were laid across the desk. There was a distinct smell of copper in the room. This was, of course, from the pools of blood on the mahogany-esque desk that were quietly dripping down to stain the blue carpet. Glasgow's wrists were slit wide open, so deep his tendons were cut and his bones were showing sickly white through the gore. A knife lay in his left hand, his fingers lightly curled around it.

Great. Just fucking great.

Calen didn't waste any time. He turned tail and ran. The officials would be there in no time. This was Zio Matrix...of course they would. And he didn't want to be listed as a witness to the scene. Even if he didn't do anything wrong....going under a false alias was not considered good during a death investigation. He reached his hover unit at around the time he heard the sirens coming towards the building. This was not good.

***************************************************************

He sat at his terminal at home, typing away madly.

Reaper: The report is simple enough. William Glasgow is deceased. His wrists were slit in his office.

Big Fish: Suicide?

Reaper: That's what it's supposed to look like.

Big Fish: And it's not what it looks like?

Reaper: *quirks an eyebrow* Do you honestly believe it is?

Big Fish: Well, so you didn't complete your assignment.

Reaper: You're a goddamn bitch, Sal. Of course I didn't complete the assignment! The man was murdered!

Big Fish: We do not accept excuses, sir.

Reaper: Sir? Now you're going to get all cold on me?

Big Fish: I'm sorry, but we cannot pay you at this time, considering you did not complete the assignment. Also...I do not think we'll be having any further use for you anymore, Calen. I'm sorry.

Reaper: Come on Sal! Don't do this to me!

Big Fish: Goodbye, Calen.

Reaper: Damn it!

Reaper: Sal! Come back here!

Reaper: Sal, damn it, if you don't....

***Conversation disconnected***

Calen punched angrily at the screen, and felt his knuckles just barely graze it. What the hell?! That bitch! Fucking.....

But there was nothing he could do. He sat back, forlorn. No money. Damn. At least he still had the job from Balena. That might pay the bills. Maybe. He sat there, waiting for a call back from Balena, waiting to see if they would give him more information. Nothing else to do, really.

[Caligo [Inactive]]

Balena's logo came up on his screen with a message box under it.
[Obtain And Switch Test Data------------36000 Cr.] Calen clicked on it, and the message opened to him.

OPERATION NAME: Open Book
CLIENT: Balena Corporation
OPPONENT: Emeraude Corporation
PLACE: SCISSORS FOREST
WEATHER: Rain
MISSION START TIME: 1400
ESTIMATED SUCCESS RATE: 78%

Emeraude has recently made a breakthrough in generator material technology - a breakthrough we do not want them to have. A mole within the Vivera Research Facility informs us that these results are exclusively located there and have not been copied as of yet. We need that data and would like to provide Emeraude with a slight setback.

Proceed to Folk City, located directly south of Scissors Forest. One of our operatives will meet you there and supply you with the equipment needed and more detailed information. This operative will appear to be a drunk at a pub called Folklore and will be passed out with a glass tipped against their old cowboy hat.

We have arranged for your transportation via Monorail 00652. It departs tomorrow morning at 1000.