Armored Core:

Project Genobee

Prologue:

No one truly knows the mindset of any of them. No one knows if they can feel remorse, if they can laugh with glee, if they can scream in anger, or even if they can shed a tear. It is not known if one of them has regretted their lives, it is not known if some of them enjoy their work, it is not known if any of them want that faithful mission to come soon and take their lives away.

The only thing that the public knows is that you can control them. You can control them as long as you have enough cash. You can control them as long as you can cover the bill. So long as you wallet is full, they will do whatever you wish.

These beings, like many other constants in our world today, have a name. It is the only name by which they have ever been known, and ever will be known. They are called Ravens. Solitary, intelligent, and deadly. Every single one of them has been unpredictable, making it a gamble to hire one if you don't have enough cash.

Their weapon of choice is the most defining feature of any Raven. It is a towering structure of metal, oil, and soul. Each individual weapon is unique. Some strike more fear than others simply because of reputation. They are the Armored Core, most humanoid, others unique, all of them built to destroy. Wherever an AC goes, something is destroyed.

And when two of them meet, all hell breaks loose.

One cannot imagine the spectacle of two Ravens locked in combat until one has actually seen one first hand. The vertigo, the fear, the beauty of it all is staggering. Fireworks crisscross in midair, and detonate in a shower of fire and shrapnel. Sparks fly as metal impacts metal at Mach 5. Electrical blades are met with electrical blades, and the entire city is lit up for the split second that the energies ignite against each other. Fire in shades of purple, blue, and green rises and falls and strafes in grace and majesty as the machines of war fight to the death. And in the middle of it all, you can't decide whether your heart is racing out of fear or overwhelming beauty at the sight of the clash of the titans. And finally, when the blows have been dealt, and the damage done and a victor declared, the aftermath is revealed, and there is nothing but despair for the longest time.

In short, Ravens are variables. You just never know when they will strike, how they will strike, what their intentions are, and who they were hired by. Ravens are the wild cards in our society. A society ruled by the faceless brutality of the corporations. In the end, it is the Ravens who decide who rules the Grand Continent. And we have no way of knowing who they will choose.