Chapter Text
[Rubicon 3]
The sounds of their helicopter wasn't an unfamiliar sound to the augmented humans acting as its sole passengers, but it had become far more deafening suddenly. The whir of the blades, the roaring of the engines, the rattling of the metal. It all seemed to echo far louder than before. Not due to any of it actually becoming any louder, or through the disappearance of nonexistent soundproofing in the metal walls. But through the fact that they couldn't help but keep glancing at the fourth slot within the cargo hold, where just recently another Armored Core had resided.
One which would never return, nor would its pilot.
A nervous laugh rang out through the hanger, bouncing off the walls as the first of the occupants attempted to break the tension. A young woman, her bluish dark grey hair tied up in a ponytail and fitted in a black and red form fitting suit with the symbol of a fist wrapped in leashes embedded in a white triangle emblazoned on her right shoulder, the augmented human C4-617 ran a hand across her head, brushing back loose hairs as she spoke.
"Never expected Ray to be the first to go, not gonna lie."
If the other two were paying attention to her, they didn't show it. C4-619, a comparatively hulking figure with a shaved head exposing the faint red piping of his augmentations not covered by the false skin that covered the majority of the back of his head and fitted in a similar pilot's outfit to her own, kept his eyes to the floor as he tapped his foot against the metal, his hands clenched together as if in prayer. C4-620 on the other hand, a wiry fellow wearing a thick coat multiple sizes too large over his pilot's outfit and a pair of circular glasses that she knew he didn't need anymore after the augmentations with a tangled mess of brown hair, kept his gaze to the tablet device monitoring their ACs. Tapping away as he checked and double checked their machines.
While not getting a response, she also hadn't been given any sign to stop. So she kept talking, even if only to herself. "I mean he always did have that tough guy act going on, like some wannabe Han Solo, but he was good you know? I mean he managed to buy himself a whole new AC before I was even woken up."
Still not getting a response, she let out a weak laugh, "Even at the end…he kept that act up huh? All cool and quiet like, with an AC name like Shrieker you'd expect at least some sorta response to getting…"
Her words trailing off, she wasn't able to finish her sentence. She hadn't known Ray for long, or maybe she had for a hound. But she couldn't get the memory of the last mission out of her head. Of his quiet growl demanding them to leave without him as his greyish blue AC was slowly torn piece by piece by that red machine and his cronies, all with him still darting between them with that sword and shotgun. Not even trying to live at that point and just take as many of them with him as he could.
Like a good hound.
"It doesn't matter," 620 finally spoke, his tone distant as he kept working, "618 did what he had to to insure we could finish the mission. He took down C1-249 and allowed us to escape so that we could ensure the destruction of the PCA facility. What matters is how we'll have to adjust our strategy, missing our vanguard."
A sound of indignation rose up in 617's throat before she let out a hiss, "The fuck you mean it doesn't matter? He was one of us? Don't you get that?"
"Yes." 620 said, a resigned nod from his head, "He was one of us. A disposable hound, no matter the quality or skill as a pilot. Anyone of us can die at any moment and nobody will care."
"We should care." She stressed her voice as she kept speaking, "All we have is each other, hounds should care about hounds."
In response she got a snort from 620 as he didn't even bother to look up from his tablet this time. Before she could say anything 619 spoke up, his voice leaving no room for debate. "Hounds do care for each other. Hounds do not care for corpses."
His glare moved between the two of them as he continued, his hands still clenched together shaking slightly, "Ray got us here, we'll make sure we honor his sacrifice by not having any of us join him on the other side."
With a scoff, 620 set down the tablet, standing up and tossing his coat onto the seat behind him, "Obviously."
Cracking his fingers, he didn't bother to spare either of them a glance as he made his way to the other end of the hanger. "I've finished going over our ACs. 617 and I will have to pull 618's weight this time along with our prior roles. I'd recommend going over the briefings again and familiarizing yourselves with the map of the combat area before we sortie."
Unable to hide her frustration, 617 reached out in front of her, grasping her hands as if by strangling the air she could choke 620 instead.
"Let it go 617." 619 warned as he also got up, "We all might be hounds but we don't grieve the same. 620 is not your enemy."
"I know I know it's just-"
"He is difficult."
"YES!"
"But he's all we have. And he knows we're all he has. He's just trying to protect that in his way." And with that, 619 started walking away, preparing himself for the mission ahead while leaving no option to continue the conversation. When he was done talking, if you weren't the handler you were also done talking.
Letting out a sigh of resignation, 617 followed behind him, it'd do her good to check on her Loader 1 herself. And to review the briefings and maps like 620 had suggested. They had a rough day ahead of them without Ray.
The three numbered Loader units which made up their personal Armored Cores were all identical in regards to their frames, tan and grey C-2000 scouting units customized by RaD. Civilian class machines, built primarily for surveying and space exploration, but were cheap enough to be upgraded into serviceable if underwhelming combat units. With featureless cylindrical heads and torsos which resembled a shuttle's nosecone, it was hard to say they had much presence to them.
But they were theirs.
Approaching her Loader 1, she climbed over the railing of the catwalk and hopped onto the core of her AC. The head unit and the connecting segments had been shifted back, revealing the narrow entrance hatch into the cockpit of the machine as she slithered in through the gap before closing it behind her.
While the cockpit was cramped, the entrance was easily the tightest spot which almost made the rest feel spacey in comparison. Settling into her seat as she flicked a switch near the hatch which controlled the lights and illuminated the small space with a yellowish white hue, she began the process of turning on her AC. Reaching to the main terminal in front of her seat, she began typing codes away and flicking switches until the initial boot up was complete, the gentle hum of the generator behind her greeting her ears.
A gentle smile came to her, as she stroked her hand against the paneling of the machine as it woke up and cooed to it, "Good morning girl, you ready to go kill some bitches?"
As if in response, the generator hummed louder as more and more systems came online, and she let out a laugh. Reaching above her, she opened the compartment in the ceiling of the cockpit in front of the entrance, pulling out her helmet as she placed it on her head before clicking a button on the side, the parts coming together with a hiss and locking onto her head. A black metal frame that covered the back of her skull, while leaving numerous ports exposed that'd reach her augmentations, with a tinted visor, like a cross between a space helmet and a knight. Likely a carryover from being a customized spacecraft.
Her helmet properly secured, she began the process of plugging herself into Loader 1, grabbing a set of cords ending in needles and started to insert them within the gaps of her helmet and pilot suit. They'd allow her augments to interface with the systems of the machine, allowing better control and awareness, while also being able to pump her full of whatever cocktail of chemicals she needed to keep going during a deployment.
And finally she began flipping on the monitors, the main cameras which gave her visibility along with the displays for the maps and comms system.
"Glad you could join us," 620's voice immediately met her as her comms came on, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show in hopes of me dying."
"If I wanted you dead 620," She hissed back, "Then I'd strangle the life out of you myself!"
"Good, good," He nodded along to her words, "I assume you've already gone over the briefing? Or were you too busy fondling your AC again?"
"I do not-!"
"Knock it off." 619 interrupted them, "Both of you, just because the handler isn't here doesn't mean you need to act like children. I will repeat the briefing, understood?"
Taking their silence as a response, 619 continued on, images popping onto the screen as he spoke, "Our mission is an assault on the PCA fortification pictured here, its continued existence is proving to be a thorn in the side of Handler Walter in regards to ensuring the safe arrival of himself and other potential reinforcements on Rubicon."
After a moment's pause as the idea of potential help settled in he continued, "In specific our primary objective is this advanced laser cannon, which has proven fatal to the attempts of other less informed mercenaries trying to slip through the cracks in the orbital system. We will destroy this cannon and dismantle the PCA fortification, once again allowing relatively safe passage into Rubicon. Any questions?"
"Expected level of confrontation?" 620 asked in a bored tone, as if already aware of the answer but asking to fill the air.
"Expect the unexpected. While there should only be at most tetrapod MTs and perhaps a helicopter or two there's always the chance for the worst case scenario."
"Then we better be ready to hit that evac switch at a moment's notice." 620 nodded, "That's all I had to ask."
"617?"
"I'm all ready to go."
"Understood. Be prepared to deploy within the hour."
She couldn't tell if the time to deploy took forever or not enough time to arrive. But eventually she could hear the sounds of the automated system as her Loader 1 was latched onto and lifted from its spot.
"Keep a tight grip on that evac switch." 620 warned one last time over the comms as their ACs were lined up in the air, as the hanger door opened below them. And then, one by one, they were dropped into the overcast desert. Smashing into the ground 617 engaged her scanner as she shot forward ahead, the others close behind her.
Taking the lead wasn't something she was used to, Shrieker having always taken the front position with its higher mobility, but with her Morley shoulder bazooka and Bu-tt/A pulse blade she was the best suited for acting as the primary punisher now. Quickly the PCA fortifications along the horizon were within reach, as gunfire met their arrival.
"Hounds, now entering combat zone." The automated voice of the computer system rang out as thrusters were engaged and they darted across the ground, using a hill as cover as they approached. "Initiating Phase 2."
Using it as a ramp she launched herself forwards, before using her thrusters to dodge to the side as the cannon shot right through where her and her AC once was, burning a hole through the landscape and leaving a massive gash behind. Yeah she could definitely see how this could cause problems even for those coming down from orbit.
"Within range, deploying vertical missiles." 619's voice called over comms, his Loader 2 further back than her's, armed primarily for offering supportive fire through explosives rather than direct confrontations.
"Wait, 619 get-" 620's voice suddenly came through comms, as the laser cannon fired again. Too quick. Weren't those types of things supposed to have a long cooldown time?! Loader 2 was already caught within its blast, the core completely melted in an instant as it fell apart to the ground.
Was…was 619 dead? She-She didn't have time to think about it yet, ignoring the Signal Lost notification on her comms hud she let out an angry shriek as she charged forward. Despite the loss of 619 and Loader 2, his missiles he had deployed rang true, peppering the walls of the PCA fort and tearing through their defenses.
Not wasting their opportunity, 617 and 620 breached the wall as they charged for the cannon. Yet there were still enough of them to pepper them with bullets, with her deploying her shield in response. Only for not just her shield, but her entire left arm to get blown off by some lucky shots!
What the hell kind of luck was this?!
It was okay.
She still had her gatling gun and shoulder cannon. She still had 620. The cannon was within reach, they had this. Yet as they approached her hopes were dashed yet again. A massive machine, multiple times the size of her AC and more of a fortress on treads covered in cannons and guns than anything else seemingly came out of nowhere. She nearly wanted to sob at the sight of it. A Cataphract? A fucking Cataphract here and now?!
As it crashed into her, the display showed her the error signs as her Morley was broken off her shoulder, leaving her with nothing but her Hu-Ben. Regaining her footing, she quickly aimed it at the towering machine as it turned to face her, unloading bullets into it with an angry yell as its cannons locked onto her. Before 620 leapt in front of her, his Loader 3 peppering the Cataphract with pistol rounds as he forced the machine to lock its cannons onto him as he kited around it. Unfortunately, while he had successfully managed to keep the cannons off of her, his AC wasn't fast enough to dodge the fire himself, the first blast tearing off his left arm as he kept firing before his core was set ablaze by the next shot.
"C4-620. Signal Lost."
617 couldn't hear the computer's automated voice as it told her yet another member of her pack was dead. All she could hear was her screaming as she smashed directly into the face of the Cataphract, somehow managing to push it back with her machine. 620 had given her the opening, and its cannons couldn't aim for her there, as she jammed the barrel of her gun as deep into the 'mouth' of the Cataphract as she could and kept firing and firing.
She doesn't know how long she spent there, maybe a couple seconds, maybe a few minutes. But by the time she's forced to drop the Hu-Ben its barrel was warped and glowing, and the Cataphract nothing more than a corpse in a mountain of twisted metal.
And she's alone. Again. Her Loader 1 crippled and on its knees. And that fucking Laser cannon baring down at her, ready to blow her and this entire area away.
"Updating target parameters." The computer keeps droning on as she forces her machine to its feet, "Phase 3, Pattern E."
If she was going down it was going to be on her own terms, and she wasn't going to let that stupid fucking cannon stick around. Good hounds finish the mission.
With a final roar, she dashes forward, assault armor primed as she finally reaches the cannon, and with a pulse of explosive energy, manages to finally tear it to shreds. And finally, things start to go dark.
She doesn't know how long she's out for, when she hears their voices again.
"617! 617! Get a hold of yourself!"
Ah. So there really was a heaven after all? Of course the first to meet her on the other side would be the other hounds. She wondered if 618 was there to greet her too? But as that thought slipped past her, she realized things still hurt. Was it supposed to still hurt? With a groan she forced her eyes open, and realized she was staring up at the overcast sky as rain pelted her bleeding face.
"I'm…alive?"
"You idiot!" 620 scowled down at her, as it slowly dawned at her both her fellow hounds surrounded her. Bloody and worse for wear but alive. "Were you just ignoring me when I said to keep a hand on the evac switch?!"
Unable to help herself, she lunged forward pulling him into a hug if only to prove he was actually there as tears freely fell down her face. "We're alive! We're all alive…oh my god I thought you were dead and I was alone and I…"
Surprisingly, he didn't move to stop her, letting her get it all out as relief was obvious in all of them. The mission was complete and they were all alive.
"So what's the plan for returning to base?" 620 said breaking the mood as he glanced around the ruins surrounding them. Ruins they had directly caused.
"The Automated Helicopter should stick around long enough to pick us up. I doubt Handler Walter will be thrilled at us wrecking all our ACs but the mission was a success regardless." 619 stated matter of factly, glancing towards the sky as if awaiting its approach.
"Speaking from experience?"
"Twice."
"Well that certainly sounds like a pair of stories I gotta hear."
"Perhaps, on the ride back though."
As they conversed the helicopter slowly approached, its search light scanning the battlefield before settling on the nearby wreck of Loader 1, resting for the final time on its knees next to the wreckage of the cannon.
"And there is our ride." 619 said with a nod as he moved to help 617 to her feet.
Right as the helicopter's search lights turned off, the automated computer seemingly satisfied in its surveillance. And it turned towards the way they had come as it flew off.
And as the craft flew away, unaware of their presence outside the smoldering wrecks, perhaps unsurprisingly it was 620 who voiced their inner thoughts first, "Well, fuck."
[A Certain Facility, Near Jupiter / 2 Weeks Later]
Walter let out a tired sigh to himself, his shoulders slack as he prepared himself to do this yet again. He thought it'd get easier after the first few times, but it never did. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse for him to feel as miserable each and every time he found himself here. In these cold halls leading to what could at most be charitably described as a pit somewhere between a back alley kennel and a meat freezer. Resting his cane against his side, he brought up his one hand to his brow to massage his scarred temples.
The years had not been kind to him, he thought as he looked into his reflection. A tanned square face riddled with scars and wrinkles, his grey hair and sideburns tangled and dirty, and the black coat worn and torn, the folded up left sleeve due to the lack of arm being the most 'tidy' part about him. But it's not that he deserved any such kindness.
Not while he still had such unpleasant work to do.
618 had been a painful loss already, his oldest hound having been a solid aide to his endeavors over the past few years, but an acceptable loss with the remaining Squad Alpha. Only for the entirety of them to be wiped out. No, no, there was still a chance for them. The automatic report only listed them as Signal Lost. They could still be alive. Just abandoned by the automated system, an error he would not let be repeated.
"You again." A familiar voice echoed in the hall, as Walter forced himself to raise his gaze to meet the dealer he had come to each and every time he needed to buy another body to throw at his problems. A thin elderly man with short black hair and wrapped in a thick coat appropriate for the temperature, he smiled at him without a hint of sincerity as he extended a hand to shake. "You know, I'm not exactly craving company here."
"You know why I'm here, Yatate." Walter frowned, not letting go of his cane as he walked past the unpleasant man.
"Ah, of course, of course. Another hound. I figured you ran out of money with how long it's been since your last purchase, but maybe I was wrong?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by Walter's reaction as he turned to follow after him, "So what happened to 617 and the others? Fill me in 'Handler Walter'."
Somehow his frown managed to become even thinner as he kept walking, choosing not to humor the man. He would get his COAM and not anything else.
"Well," Yatate shrugged at the lack of response, likely coming to his own conclusions as the other man did his best to ignore him, "At least you're helping me clear my inventory. But with the amount you're paying…"
"Is something wrong with the amount provided?" Walter couldn't help himself from glowering at the man at this point.
"I'm practically running out of these Coral gen augments 'Handler Walter', they're becoming quite the rare commodity I'd say. I could offer you a first time discount on a later gen, but I don't think that's what you want is it?"
"Your point?"
"For a Coral gen augment at your budget Walter, I really had to dig in the back for you. No need to thank me. Let me introduce you to Coral Generation 4, Augmented Human 621." Pushing open a door he stepped into a poor facsimile of an operating room, where strapped to a table was the cryogenically preserved body of an augmented human. Sweeping over to it, he flicked on the devices meant to safely thaw out the body as he motioned for Walter to take a closer look.
"This one is functional, but don't expect much more."
"I'm not here to talk." Walter scowled, tired of the man's constant comments, as he approached the body, "Wake it up."
The man finally gave him the mercy of shutting up, activating the last of the devices and connecting C4-621 to the AC core he had sent in earlier. Augmentations wouldn't do any good if the pilot wasn't properly registered and synced with the cockpit to allow heightened functions, they might as well just be a normal human at that point.
As he looked over the new hound he felt his eyes widen. Tanned skin littered with scars, both surgical and otherwise, short ashy almost white hair, but…this was just a kid. It'd be a shock if they were even 20 by the time they went under. And augments weren't supposed to be exposed like that, the entirety of the spine and back of the head replaced with metal plating lined with coral red pipes. He felt his grip tighten on his cane as he once again was faced with the grim reality of what one man's obsession with the coral had brought upon humanity. But he'd make right by this.
"621," He stared down at the b-at the dog. He doubted he-it. He doubted it could hear him in this state, but he felt the need to declare his intentions regardless. As the AC flickered to life, complete in its registration of the augmented human as its pilot, he steeled himself for what he desperately prayed would be the last time.
"I'll give you a reason to exist."
He almost missed the furrowing of its brow and the clenching of its fist at his words, as if it had been waiting for this moment.
[Outside Rubicon 3 / 4 Months Later]
"We're close to Rubicon. Wake the dog up."
"Handler Walter verified. Activating cerebral Coral control device." And with a jolt as the automated voice of COM rang out, C4-621's eyes sprang open as chemicals filtered through his systems and into his body. A gasp escaped his throat as his heart suddenly started beating on its own once again after who knows how long he'd been in stasis.
"Augmented human C4-621 has awakened."
The system continued to update in its monotone voice, the sounds of thrusters loudly roaring outside his chamber as he knew he must've been entering the planet's atmosphere. Coming down from the shock of consciousness being returned to him, C4-621 began to check over Loader 4 from within the cockpit as he descended. All internals and frame parts seemed to be functioning, Turner assault rifle and BU-TT/A pulse blade in good condition. SU-Q5 pulse shield and BML missiles also in operational condition. It'd be functional for the mission ahead.
"Time to get to work 621. I'm powering down your entry capsule. On my signal." Handler Walter's voice came in through the communications system of the AC as 621 began flicking the cockpit lights off to focus solely on the monitors in front of him.
"Now! Activate the AC." 621 didn't need to be told that, but it didn't really matter he figured as he prepared himself to launch from the pod. It was then he heard a loud whirling sound, followed by the unmistakable roar of an energy weapon, and his entry capsule was suddenly much much hotter and shaking violently.
Gritting his teeth, 621 quickly darted his eyes over the readings on the display in front of him as red sirens flashed in the container. He was a bit high for launching but the AC would have to manage he decided. Better than being cooked alive at least. Reaching forward, he began to pry open the partially melted doors of the capsule, violently throwing them away as the warning lights blared around him.
And then he leaped out.
The grid system met his gaze as he soared through the air, a complex structure of factories, warehouses, and transportation systems built high up in the sky above the world's surface common on mining planets such as Rubicon back in its heyday. It was beautiful in a way, as the sun's rays glistened across its surface as he fell from the skies.
And then the capsule he had evacuated from exploded, and he could feel as bits of debris slammed into his machine sending him hurtling down like a ragdoll. Trying to deploy his shield, hoping the pulse barrier could at least cushion a bit of the impact, he was met with the sounds of error messages ringing out as scraps on a hinge tried to deploy in front of him only to fall apart in the air.
And of course the shield was broken in entry!
And that's when the walls were suddenly right in 621's face as Loader 4 crashed and tore through metal surface after metal surface.
"Descent to ISB2262 'Rubicon 3' complete." COM's voice rang out as 621 forced Loader 4 back to its feet. A wince rang out as he realized he had cracked his helmet in the crash, smashing it against the control panel in front of him due to the lack of safety harnesses in such a cheap machine. Well it wasn't designed for planetary entry he relented, especially not such violent cases, but you'd figure there'd be at least something. At least the controls weren't smashed up too, a helmet was a lot cheaper to replace.
"Your position is Grid 135. Off target but within permissible range." Handler Walter stated, uncaring of 621's violent landing as he glanced around himself. It seemed like he had landed in a maintenance area, thick pipes lining the walls which once must've pumped an unimaginable amount of liquids or gases for the sake of the facility, yet beyond the thin walkways there was little care given to how a human would traverse the area.
Not an issue for him in his AC.
"There's a catapult ahead," Handler Walter continued, "Use it to close the gap."
"Handler Walter." 621 spoke out loud for the first time on Rubicon, his voice dry from lack of use and nearly as robotic in tone as COM.
"What's the issue?"
"The shoulder mounted pulse shield has been damaged and lost during entry, will continue ahead but defensive capabilities have been reduced." Having given his report, 621 began to move through the facilities, having to use his thrusters to maneuver the skyscraper high ledges blocking his way before entering the access tunnels.
Handler Walter swore quietly before continuing, "Understood. It doesn't change the mission, but you should avoid unnecessary confrontations if possible."
Only half listening to the handler's words 621 reached the end of the access tunnel and looked out in front of him. Lines of rail, some still with ancient containers along them, covered the platform in the center of the area, the planet's surface visible below. And numerous MTs populating the way to the catapult.
Handler Walter's comms were active again briefly before he continued, as if slightly hesitant now to give the command, "...Clear those guard mechs. Perfect chance to make sure nothing else is broken on your AC."
He was already moving before the order could be finished, his missile's multilock function activating as the four low level walker MTs didn't even have a chance to react before being blown to pieces.
"Four," He muttered under his breath as Loader 4 darted past their wrecks. Activating the thrusters, he boosted forward towards a basic humanoid MT wielding a rifle, slicing through it in an instant with his pulse blade before letting out a string of bullets at another which had just noticed him. "Five, Six."
"Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve." Not stopping he kept darting through the room, counting with each kill until he reached a door. Too large to open manually with Loader 4, but fortunately the security system was still somewhat operational. Which meant, his AC could easily crack it and open the door without issue.
"Handler Walter." He spoke up again as he waited for the door to open.
"Yes?"
"Other weapons besides Pulse Shield fully operational, no further issues detected." He reported, the door finally opening as he blasted through it towards the catapult.
"Good. See the contaminated city down there?" Handler Walter asked, moving to the next topic instantly as 621 began hacking the catapult's system. Glancing over at the side monitors 621's eyes scanned over the display of the distant ruins as he let his handler continue, "That's where you'll be landing."
Letting out a hum of understanding, 621 began to set the coordinates for that area into the catapult, having forced it to recognize him and Loader 4 as a registered user. With a loud hiss and the sound of metal shifting in place the platform which Loader 4 stood on was raised up and set onto the launcher of the catapult, with 621 preparing the thrusters. "Time to fly 621."
And so he flew.
Flying through the air below the grid, 621 was given full view of the mountainous landscape beneath him, jagged rocks painted white with snow as the sun on the horizon seemed to offer no warmth to the land below.
"If we get our hands on Rubicon's Coral, we'll make a killing. More than enough for a couple of mercs with fried brains like you to buy their lives back."
621 didn't respond to this. It's not like he remembered any life other than being a 'Merc with a fried brain'. Came with the fried brain part after all. What sort of life would he even be buying back at that point? It had to be better than this at least, right? Right?
"But that's not the only reason you're here." Handler Walter continued, seemingly unfazed by 621's lack of response, "Squad Alpha, the previous hounds I sent to Rubicon, are MIA. We'll confirm whether they are dead or alive, then continue with the primary objective."
Right, the secondary objective. 621 wasn't completely sure what the point of this was, he was aware that those like him were bought and sold on the cheap. They were disposable by design. But Handler Walter must've been a stickler for getting his money's worth that wanted his property back if possible. It was the option that made the most sense to him.
"Enough chat, back to work." Handler Walter stated as Loader 4 landed on the ground, surrounded by a sparse number of pine trees nestled between the mountains. 621 hadn't been the one solely contributing to the conversation he noted to himself internally. "Scavenge the AC wrecks ahead and find a valid mercenary license. We're illegals here, you'll need ID to operate."
He figured everyone here was at least somewhat illegal, given the Planetary Closure System around the whole planet. But not leaving a paper trail back to themselves was probably for the best, he agreed.
"An AC? Where the hell did that come from?"
"Affiliation unknown…is it a merc? Shut it down!"
Voices rang out over the open comm lines as 621 noted he wasn't quite alone in this clearing. Not looking to give them a chance, he darted forward, burying his blade in the first one before they could react. "Thirteen."
"Guerellas from the Liberation Front, they'll get in the way of our work." Handler Walter noted, before signing off an execution he was already commencing, "Eliminate them."
Firing all his missiles at the one farthest away, he kicked the wreck of the first one still in front of him at another MT, distracting it momentarily so that he could litter it with bullets. "Fourteen, Fifteen,"
Then with a dash and a slash of his sword as bullets flew towards him, peppering his frame but unable to deal substantial damage, the last of the guerellas in the clearing were disposed of. "Sixteen."
An AC was certainly a lot more effective than an MT, he noted as his pulse blade returned to its undeployed state. He wasn't sure why, but there was a certain heaviness to that thought. It didn't matter though, he decided as he walked through the clearing, a clear cliff's edge in front of him with the contaminated city down below. It was only natural an AC would outclass an MT.
"I'm picking up signals from AC wrecks. Follow the markers." With the handler's words, 621 watched as a set of 3 coordinates were marked on his display screens. Looks like it was time to commit identity theft too, as he leapt off the cliff's edge into the city.
The first wreck, a mercenary named Thomas Kirk that must've just used their actual name for some reason, the license had already expired. The second wreck had been a bit more of an issue. A PCA helicopter had flown past, tearing through the RLF machines which had been around the wreck, shredding through them like paper. He'd avoided detection, but had the sinking feeling it wouldn't be the last time he'd see that machine that day. To top it all off the license had belonged to a corporate mercenary, a G7 Hakra.
Nowhere near enough freedom for the job he was here to do, and even if it was as Handler Walter stated it was far too easy to prove he wasn't G7 Hakra had he swiped the license. A shame he wouldn't be able to get an easy extra paycheck. The last wreck had left 621 concerned, going by 'Monkey Gordo' the license rank was low enough it'd definitely cause them issues should he be forced to take it. The callsign also left something to be desired as a personal note.
"It's still valid but the pilot's rank is no good. We can't use this." 621 drummed his fingers against the control sticks in his AC at Handler Walter's words. If that was the case and this was the last wreck, it looked like they'd have to get a bit more creative in how he'd get his new identity. He'd have to look into the independents on planet and see which ones worthwhile would be the easiest to assassinate and replace, but it'd give him time to focus on the search for Squad Alpha while he couldn't take official jobs he figured.
"I've picked up one more wreck 621, transmitting marker. Go and check it out." Handler Walter's voice interrupted his thoughts. Looks like he may have to put any assassination plans on hold then. Assuming this license was any different from the others and actually met his handler's standards.
Moving through the city he scaled up the mountain with his thrusters to a facility overlooking the buildings below. A dual segmented structure built into the side of the rocky wall leered over the small evened surface sectioned off by the walls around it. And in the center was a crater, the ruins of a helicopter still smoking and alit with flames. Cutting his thrusters, Loader 4 landed near the edge of the crater, when 621 saw it. The final wreck.
Funnily enough it shared almost entirely the same frame as his own AC, save the head, which immediately caught his eye as he slowly approached it. Unable to tear his eyes away from the screen displaying the dead machine, 621 absent mindedly began the hacking process to swipe their identity.
"Registration number Rb23. Rank fits the bill. Callsign…" As Handler Walter read out the information 621 had stolen, his ears perked up as he could hear the unmistakable sound of the spinning blades of a helicopter approaching. Reloading his gun, he darted back as he aimed it towards the sound as the PCA machine came into view. Of course he had to be right about it.
"What?!" His handler's voice rang out as he began shooting at the craft, dashing to the side to avoid machine gun fire. As large explosives rained down after him he could only think to himself that he was really missing that shield right about now. "Looks like they were on to you after all."
He noticed that.
Realizing his bullets weren't going to be enough to deal with this aircraft at this rate he dashed forward, engaging his main thrusters to launch himself into the air and directly towards the PCA helicopter. It might have tough armor plating but a sword to the cockpit would be more than sufficient to take it out.
"I'm in no mood to pick a fight with the PCA, but it doesn't matter. Take it out now and they won't have enough to ID you."
He could agree to that plan. Deploying his pulse sword, he buried it into the reinforced glass separating him and his AC from the pilot of the craft. With a loud shriek of metal and molten material, he dragged the blade across trying to decapitate the craft and end the fight then and there. Unfortunately for him, the constant machine gun fire raining down on him left his swing off course, cutting a gash down the side of the craft to the bottom but not bisecting any part of the cockpit, knocking him off the machine and leaving the PCA pilot alive for a bit longer.
"We got what we came for. Tie up the loose ends 621." Handler Walter demanded as the helicopter began to fly higher up into the air, trying to escape his reach.
"I know." He growled back, deploying another set of missiles after the craft aiming for the gash he had left behind. Smashing into the ground, he reignited his thrusters and launched himself back into the air as the PCA craft returned fire with its own missiles which exploded on the ground he had just stood.
He wasn't going to be able to reach it, his thrusters giving out before he could get above the helicopter. Unless…reaching out with his hand, he managed to get a grip on the gash left before, and clamped down to leave himself dangling from the helicopter. Gritting his teeth, he forced his AC to pull itself up with one arm, the pistons screaming back at him as he did so with sparks raining down onto Loader 4's head. With his other hand, he forced his rifle barrel into the gash before him and started unloading bullet after bullet into it. His thrusters coming back he finally gave mercy to the near broken left arm of his machine, releasing his grip as he lifted himself right above the smoking helicopter.
And dropped on top of it, deploying his pulse blade as he finally cut that damn cockpit in half and killed the PCA pilot.
"Forty." He growled out, his grip tight on the controls as the glowing energy melted through it like butter.
"Confirmed. Heavy combat helicopter is down." Handler Walter stated as the fiery wreck crashed into the ground, Loader 4 smashing into the ground barely more graciously immediately after. "That's all for our work here today 621."
He grunted as he looked over Loader 4 after that fiasco. The turner rifle didn't seem that great but he certainly approved of the bu-tt/a blade's performance. He was definitely going to have to fix up the arms though, his left arm was basically falling apart after that maneuver, but that was fortunately the most damaged part of the frame as far he could tell from the readings. As he continued his quick examination of his AC, his handler continued to speak.
"Here's the license from that callsign you picked up," Blinking onto the HUD was the credentials Walter had decoded. Rb23, Independent, Rank F, 3 days away from expiration, the face of the wrecked AC as it once was staring back at him from the monitor. The callsign-
"Raven. That's your new name here on Rubicon."
Raven. He repeated the name in his head until it felt somewhat familiar, there was no telling how often he'd have to respond to it instead after all. Before he turned away, something in him made him turn back to the wreck. It was like the two ACs were staring at each other, some form of communication outside of even augmented human comprehension, or maybe that was just the fried brain talking.
Regardless, he couldn't pull himself away quite yet. Instead, he found himself approaching the wreck, Loader 4 leaning down directly over the totaled craft. Setting his rifle down, his undamaged hand reached forward, gripping onto the collar of the dead machine, right below where the neck met the core. And he tore into it.
"621? What are you-?"
The head removed from the AC, 621 lifted it up and turned it over in his hands. Only featuring cameras on the left side of the head was certainly a choice, and it seemed to have some sort of faceguard feature interestingly enough. But he could recognize a lot of the parts and the base skeleton, perhaps a variant of his own Finder Eye head piece?
If that was the case this would be far easier than he had expected. "I can fix this part. I've already stolen their name, might as well complete the disguise."