Traffic was horrible.
"Damn it all," Terry Kilpatrick cursed, even though he was sharing the car with a thirteen-year-old. They had an agreement that the child could not curse unless Terry, his uncle, cursed first, and as long as it was on the same subject. "Now we're definitely going to be late!"
"That's alright," The young boy reassured him. "We're usually late anyways."
"Yeah, but just this once I would have liked to arrive before the reunion started!" Terry said, gradually raising his voice as he spoke.
The Kilpatrick family always tried to keep close ties with its members. To that end, their distant relatives began the tradition of meeting at the Setting Sun Hotel in Isaac City each year. To this day, this tradition has not been broken, and the Setting Sun Hotel hasn't yet gone out of business or moved, since it just so happened to be owned by the Kilpatrick family.
Consumed with boredom, the young boy looked out the window to see if the world could present something to arouse his curiosity. Visible from the right was a construction site, which easily attracted his attention since it presented an opportunity for him to see an MT, a universal term for a large robot that was piloted from inside by one person. He scanned the site slowly, trying not to miss any details, but no matter how hard he looked, he still couldn't see one. But just as he was about to give up hope, one suddenly appeared from behind a trailer. Even though it was grey, plain, undecorated and was only made for construction purposes in mind, the child's eyes still widened in awe at the humanoid machine as it walked along. As he watched it, the power of a child's imagination placed him inside of it, controlling it from inside the cockpit. In his mind, he saw himself strapped into the control apparatus, moving it as he moved his own body. Then, the MT would move in a manner that directly emulated his own movements. He could see what the MT saw, and it would obey his every command as he lifted metal bars and ran as fast as a truck. Sights and thoughts such as these seemed to light a fire within the boy's soul, giving him a strong desire to one day pilot an MT for a living when he grew up.
In a sudden strike of curiosity, he tried to remember what his father had called that piloting system. Wasn't it a "Muscle Trace System"? A light bulb lit in his head, and he deduced that MT probably stood for "Muscle Tracer". Then he realized that that couldn't be right. MTs had to have the same basic structure as humans to use that system, otherwise they used a cockpit consisting of a chair and an array of switches, sticks, levers and buttons, and there were many types of MTs that could not use the Muscle Tracer System.
Then he realized that his father would definitely know what MT stood for.
"Is Father going to be there this time, Uncle?" he asked, hoping for a favorable response. His father worked for Progressive Technologies Inc., or ProgTech, as an MT systems developer. He was responsible for developing new subsystems for MTs while at the same time refining currently existing technology. He also doubled as the company's representative in matters concerning standardization and joint research. This sort of job involved a great deal of money, secrecy, and time spent away from home. Unfortunately, that last part and the fact that his mother died of illness two years ago were the reasons why the young boy had to live with his uncle.
"Yep. I called his cell just before we left the house. He said he cleared out his whole schedule for today in advance. He also told me that it looks like everyone's going to be there today."
The boy let out a cheer and surrendered himself to his own playful, childish impulses, restrained only by his seat belt as he celebrated this terrific news.
"Hey! Quit dancing in your seat, David! It's hard enough to keep my sanity in this traffic jam as it is," shouted Terry in a commanding voice.
Little did David know that he wasn't going to be seeing his family today.
"I'm sorry sir, but we cannot let you pass." There was a roadblock just outside of Isaac city's main gate, and about a dozen Guardsmen patrolling the area were not about to let anyone pass. The Guard was a division in each Corporation that was charged with maintaining order, serving citizens, provided courts for trials, and both arresting and rehabilitating criminals. Not every city had the same laws, since not every city was owned by the same Corporation, so in turn not every city's Guard worked the same way.
"Look, Guardsman," which was the polite way to address them. You were expected to show respect, and depending on which city you were in, the cost of forgetting differed. "I need to get to Isaac City. We're both late for a family reunion. It's tradition." Terry said, trying to keep his manners, even though he had half a mind to deck the guy, Guardsman or no. He had always been late for the reunion, and he had strongly promised that he'd be on time this year. However, the traffic jam had set him behind, and he knew that going around this roadblock would make him late for sure.
A pained look flashed for a moment on the Guardsman's face, but he remained firm. He didn't join the Guard Division of Chrome to be a bother, but rather to help his fellow citizens. Moments like these, however, tended to make him second-guess his career choice. "I'm very sorry for the inconvenience sir, but I have orders not to let anyone inside Isaac City at this time. There currently is a disturbance in Northwest Sector 5, and we've closed off all entrances to Isaac City to prevent the suspect from escaping. Once the situation returns to normal, we'll reopen the city to the public."
A second Guardsman had stuck his head out of his squad car and yelling in a panic. "Chris! Turn on your radio!"
The first Guardsman, Chris, fumbled with the radio clipped to his right hip and, once he had it firmly in his hand, turned up the volume. It was one of those models that beeped once someone ended their transmission and had a talk button to start your own.
"-over here, Adam! I can't hold him off by myself! beep Negative. My MT is damaged. I can't move. Someone help Jake! beep Natasha here. I got it. Jake, where's he headed? beep Just took exit three! He's headed for Northwest Sector 2! beep Roger. That's not far. I'll cut him off! beep Don't get cocky, Natasha! That Raven's no pushover! Huh? Oh sh- beep." For a while, there was a long and heavy silence, which seemed to last forever. Then a feminine voice, filled with panic, broke it. "Jake? Come in! Please, Jake! beep."
Chris cursed under his breath, shut his radio off and ran toward the gate.
As David heard the transmission, he suddenly had a sickening feeling in his stomach. The Sunset Hotel was in Northwest 2. David began to fear that something horrible was going to happen. With his fear and curiosity tangled together, he suddenly bolted towards the gate's service entrance, completely ignoring the Guardsmen when they demanded him to stop. Some even tried to cut David off, but he ducked and weaved away from them and finally made it to the service entrance. He let the door stop his momentum by hitting it with the left side of his body, and then he flung it open, thankful that it wasn't locked or automated. He didn't even bother to close the door behind him, courteously being the last thing on his mind. He just wanted to see his father.
David always had a good sense of direction, but had he not been full of emotion and chased by two Guardsmen and someone had asked him if he knew where he was going, he probably would have said something along the lines of "Nope. Do you have a map?" David knew that the two Guardsmen were just a short distance behind him; when he stepped on a puddle, the splash of their feet came almost immediately after.
By sudden stroke of genius, David turned hard into a narrow alley. When one of the Guardsmen tried to follow, he turned late and hit his shoulder on the corner, falling over. The second nearly tripped over this partner, but continued the chase, running hard to regain the ground he lost.
As David weaved in and out of alleyways, he saw more of his surroundings and stated to get his bearings. It wasn't long until he found one of the two street names that he was looking for. After he made another hard turn into an alleyway that ran along it, he dared a look over his shoulder. No Guardsmen, no shouts, and no footsteps. He was all alone, except for the sound of explosions in the distance.
The sounds were getting louder now as he ran through the alleyways, and he was getting starting to get worn out. His lungs felt like they were on fire, his heart was ready to burst out of his chest and his legs begged me to stop and rest. Ignoring all of them, he continued running. The sounds were almost deafening now, and on impulse, he ran out of the alleyway.
David stopped just short of the sidewalk.
A gigantic metal foot was right in front of him, blocking his way. It was longer than a pickup truck, and so wide that it took up two lanes. It was half red and half black, and shined from the light coming from the street lamps.
David looked up to see what that foot was attacked to, and saw a enormous piece of machinery, with two thin yet maneuverable arms, two sturdy legs that seemed to fall on a thin line between armor and mobility, an intimidating yet simple-looking head with a large circular camera, two smaller cameras and a single, hornlike antenna, and, attached to it all, a solid-looking 'core', or chest, that seemed to stick out a bit horizontally along the middle. He was looking at an Armored Core! Not only was an AC the most advanced war machine in existence, but it was also the most versatile, thanks to its modular design.
David was in complete awe, staring at this thing that he had before only read about in magazines and heard about in the news. He couldn't stop staring at this red and black juggernaut before me. As his eyes slowly followed the AC's edges and curves, he saw something on its upper left arm. It had a decorative feel to it, sort of like a tattoo. The design and spots of the AC's paint job were slightly worn from what looked like the scars of a long and intense battle, but David was able to make out the design: a black billiard ball with a yellow "9" on it.
Movement from the corner of David's eye caught his attention and, looking left, he saw an MT with chicken-like legs and fingerless arms face the AC and fire off a missile from a back-mounted launcher. It screamed like a banshee as it flew straight at the AC. David suddenly realized that it was going to hit, but he had only enough time to turn around before the missile collided with the AC with a deafening explosion.
The explosion was too high to knock David off his footing, but his ears rang so loud that he feared that he had just lost his hearing. Suddenly, he felt a sensation just above his right jaw line. David instinctually brought his hand up to fell it. He sensed something warm, and when he took his hand away to look at it, he saw red. He was bleeding.
David had only a short moment to think about this when the ground began to shake and he heard strange, loud noises behind him that he had never heard before. He turned around to see the source, and again he was frozen in awe.
The AC was moving. It was dropping down to one knee just as naturally as a person would do. Next, it slowly raised its left arm and opened its hand. Then, two long metal pipes that were connected at each end by a hinge-like connection, were folded against each other and mounted on one end to the left side of the AC's back, swung over its shoulder and connected themselves to form a long, menacing cannon. The AC grabbed the barrel with its left hand, using it to aim.
David looked in the direction that the AC was aiming in, and suddenly the air around him froze and he felt a deep and profound terror consume him.
The MT had moved away and was now using the buildings at the end of the street as cover. After a moment it moved out of cover enough to expose one of it's arms. It's forarm opened up, exposing an opening in which some sort of energy was building.
But David wasn't paying much attention to the MT now, as he just realize what the MT was hiding behind. If the AC fired…
"No!" David screamed at the top of his lungs, fearing the worst, but the sound of his screams were downed out by the hellish hoar of that enormous cannon.
The cannon fired a huge rocket propelled grenade out through its long barrel and towards the MT. The round soared down the street and, on its way towards the MT's chest section, punched through the Setting Sun Hotel with a horrific explosion. It destroyed several floors , weakening the structure enough to make it slowly collapse. It made its way to the MT, where it finally detonated, destroying the MT and causing even greater damage to the Setting Sun Hotel.
David watched as the building burst into flames and began to collapse. Unable to speak, move, or grasp what was happening, he sank to his knees. Even the dull sensation of pain across his right cheek went unnoticed as he watched the flames dance over his family's meeting place. As the AC fled the area, its footsteps shaking the ground like small earthquakes, tears ran down David's eyes as he began to understand what had happened.
The Kilpatrick family, save for David and his uncle, were dead. All thanks to that accursed Raven. It was then that David, on his knees in an alley with blood and tears on his face, that he swore that he would kill him. He would kill the pilot of that AC, the one with the "Nine Ball", even if that meant dieing along with him.