The Hatchling- Part 9
I waited.
Of all the excess baggage comes tied in with the status of a Raven, came several other distinguishing features, some more beneficial than others. One was a license to kill, and vice versa the ability to be killed in a single run of bad luck. The other was a ludicrous amount of free time between engagements, mission and arena fights, and the always popular repair period, where the only thing you have to look forward to afterwards was a bill that was comparable to being violently sodomized with a heated rifle round. A little graphic yes, but it is a fact that the cost for parts and repairs has sharply raised since the days of the first generation AC models. Having paid an innumerable amount of these bills, I should know. In any case, it is a necessary process in the life of every pilot, as is the need to kill time between contracts. That's what the Arena is for.
And so, here I am, sitting in this dimly lit multi-story garage complex, awaiting the arrival of my next opponent, Joker. As head of the "D" class Ravens, it was his obligation to answer any challenges to his so-called "title". However, as he had just returned from one of his own missions when he received my challenge, he needed his AC fixed before commencing in any further hostilities. Which meant that both of us would be kept idle for that much longer.
I waited.
I used this inactive time to give my AC a good once over. Not the first time mind you, just needed to do something to kill time. I finally saved up enough to give my unit, which I had dubbed the "Restitution" a new paintjob, making it a sleek black and cream number. I swapped the default legs for a better set of medium-weight humanoid legs. The arms I swapped for a lighter, better energy defense model. Not enough cash to swap the core yet, but I did buy a head with a built-in radar at least. Better FCS, radiator, and a slightly better weapon load out. I decided to lose the rifle in exchange for a more tactical, and more prolific machine gun. No longer in need of the back radar unit, I hocked it and the missile launcher in favor of a heavy hitting rocket launcher and an extra solid-round ammo pack. Though I could have bought a more high damaging cannon, they require the unit to be stationary while firing, unless of course, you had the right kinds of modifications. What exactly those modifications are remains a tightly kept secret. In any case, I now had at least a "Good" ranked AC that was able to get the job done faster and more efficiently, at the cost of the solid ammunition expenses. Maybe I'll swap some of my weapons for some energy-based weapons in the future.
The hum of the garage door across from my location brought me back down to Earth as Joker glided into the room. I say glided rather than stepped because his AC had no legs to walk on. Joker's AC was built atop a hover base and was overall a lightweight machine. His load out was far from intimidating, but the one weapon that worried me the most was the rocket launcher he equipped on his right arm. It had massive destructive potential, with the ability to sever mechanical limbs in one well placed volley. It'd have to be considering you had to manually aim all rocket launchers. You'd have to be pretty damn sure of your aim to equip rockets, so I knew I was dealing with at least a competent pilot. Let's see if he really knew how to use that gun…
"You got a lotta' nerve dragging me out here after I just got through busting my ass on a sortie. I guess the modern youth don't value their lives much."
I sat silent as he looked my AC up and down, trying to formulate a reasonable comeback, but he beat me to it.
"Hey, you're that kid! The lucky bastard that got 'er license early! Man, it'll be an honor to put you in your place."
"I've heard it all before asshole. We'll see if you're still talking shit after you crash and burn."
"Nice mouth for a sprat, and fat chance on that front! I've already killed one Raven this week, but it looks like I'll be doubling that count today…"
"If you children are quite done, we'd like to get this match underway already", boomed the voice of the referee. Actually, referee was an improper title for him, since he held no authoritative power and could offer no intervention should the fight take a turn for the nasty. Overseer sounded better, cause all he could do was watch and wait. Kind of like all the people that were tuning in to see this fight. Why any sane person would tune in to watch two AC's going at it is beyond me. I mean, aren't there better pastimes for people to enjoy, like sports or music? Or has senseless violence the new thing to delude the masses? I guess this wasn't the best time to ponder the standards of entertainment, I had a fight to win, this one was a new Core. My safeties came off as all my weapon systems came online. The scrolling green message across my computer panels politely welcomed me into the fray, to which I gladly accepted. My Overboost blazed full tilt as I went at Joker with an added fury I reserved for the doubtful and the ignorant. He never knew what hit him…
I sat waiting for my intended core to come in and I couldn't help the spread of this stupid grin that came with all my little accomplishments in life. I just couldn't get the image of Joker's beet-red face out of my head. When he confronted me after the match, blaming a lack of preparation and unfair combat tactics on my part, I swore his head was going to explode. So I hacked a limb off towards the start of the match, he should have been faster! I told him flat out that I couldn't be held responsible for his inadequacies as a pilot, and it took two security guards to keep him from attacking me. Not that I couldn't defend myself on my own, but I had the strangest conviction that he was a biter. Anyway, I am Ms. "D" Class and the last I heard, Joker shipped out a few days ago for a sortie on the other side of the planet…figures. I guess everyone has their own ways of coping with the little nuances of life, and Joker's way was to run like hell. No matter, he was no longer my problem. My only concern at this moment was how much the shipping charges would come out to. What a day for my bank account…
"Um, escuse me! Miss… Scarred?"
I snapped to as the receptionist called my name.
"There's someone on the line for you. Do you know a Kisaragi rep?"
"Oh yeah! Let me at the phone please."
I hastily took the cordless receiver and took it to the corner of the waiting area. Why and how Kisaragi knew to contact me here is beyond me, but it must be pretty damn important.
"Salutations Scarred. I trust that you're in high spirits now with your recent Arena advancement."
"You bet! It wasn't easy either!"
"That's not what our battle analysts have told us…"
"Heh, whatever. So what's up, do you have something for me to do?"
"Not exactly. You need this time to finish upgrading your AC. This conversation is to inform you of important information that our team of… 'reconnaissance' staff has come across."
Pondering what Kisaragi's hackers could have found, I grew nervous as I pressed him for the information.
"We've come across several pending contracts requesting the assassination of several high profile Raven targets. All of them hold a personal preference or obligation to a certain corporation. You, are among these targeted pilots."
My chest tightened as I learned of my supposed death sentence. Who would want to kill me, and why me specifically? Well, while I have the resources, might as well put 'em to use.
"Any idea who is issuing these requests?"
"We're unsure, but curiously enough, as we went through the list of pilots and their corporate preferences, we found that no one on the list was affiliated to the Crest corporation."
So we have a suspect. Crest was the second largest corporate power in the world, surpassed only by the Mirage corporation. They had a history of hostile business tactics and were reputed to be notorious defenders of the machine-controlled that governs the planet. But why would they want to kill me? If anything I had helped out Crest on several occasions, including a revisit to that bloody MT factory they had me clear out the first time.
"So do you think Crest is the one behind this?"
"One does not wave accusations at Crest without a substantial amount of evidence… and the military prowess to back such claims. Lacking both of these assets, I can't comment at this point."
"So what do you suggest I do? After all, you guys are the ones who recruited me."
"And need I remind you who was the one who eagerly accepted employment."
"Ha, touché."
"The only advice I can offer you at this time is to try to lay low for awhile. Drawing a lot of publicity will only aid in your killer's pursuit. And for God's sake, choose your mission request with the utmost scrutiny. It is a tried and proven fact that an isolated request offering an extraordinary amount of money can lure any pilot into an ambush. Don't fall prey to such barbaric tactics."
"Will do, and… thanks for the heads up."
"It is nothing. While most of the higher executives at Kisaragi may consider you a superfluous asset, I believe that there is no such thing as an expendable human being."
"Thank you Mr. President. I'll be in touch."
I hung up the phone and slunk against the wall, extremely crestfallen. Learning of a plot on your life can be extremely frustrating, as if I didn't have enough on my plate already. So, they desire my life, fine, you're welcome top take a stab at it. But no way will I be an easy target to these scum. You'll fight to take my life just as had as I've fought to preserve it. Let the hunt begin…
(END CHAPTER NINE)
Been a while hasn't it? I won't blame you if you've given up and moved on, but to all the faithful readers and authors, if I get just one more review on my stories, I'll be happy. What can I say, college is a very time consuming part of my life. I've also found that I'm playing way too much Counter-Strike than any human being should be. Could we see a possible fanfic along those lines? We'll see, let me worry about my Hatchling and Nineball for now.
