The Hatchling- Part 10
Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.
These were the words flashing through my mind as I stared into the
cold, unconcerned eye of my enemy's AC. Both my ego and my body
were bruised, and my AC was completely scrapped, completely incapable
to continue the struggle against my seemingly invincible tormentor.
He had me pinned in the corner of this destitute warehouse that I had
so foolishly been lured into, and was drawing back his incredibly
powerful right arm blade to put an end to the cat-and-mouse game he
had led me on for the better part of an hour. The only thing I could
think about while I waited for the finishing blow was: why? How did
it come to this? What did I do to get into this situation? In the
brief time that I had left, I tried to recount as fast as I could the
events that led up to this deception and my imminent end.
A few days ago I was trying to enjoy a nice lunch out, away from the
grime and grind of sorties and battles. I figured I owed this to
myself, after all the grief I had brought upon myself with vengeful
Arena fighters and the discovery that there was an unofficial price
on my head. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done, for I made
the mistake of trying to get my finances in order during my lunchtime
retreat. It was very discouraging to see that the many different
incomes I earned were rapidly being consumed by all the tedious
little expenses associated with living on my own with no one else to
support me. Rent, groceries, repairs, storage… and the sad part was
that these are all basic necessities for my everyday life. Don't
assume that I'm pampering myself in luscious flats or indulging in
top of the line AC services, I live in a dumpy little studio and take
only what I need as far as my Core goes. Hell, I shouldn't even be
having this sandwich in front of me right now. If I didn't start
double-timing my mission participation, then I was gonna be out on my
ass with an AC that no one would fix. Maybe Laine could help me out
on this one, I had kinda been ignoring her since that last time we
spoke, mostly because I thought she was still a little scornful of
the shit I blew her. Then again, maybe she was truly as compassionate
as she claimed she was. I guess I would have to see. At that moment
my server came up to the table, trying to up his sales I guess…
poor him.
"Would you like to see the dessert
menu Miss?"
"Uh, no thanks. Just a glass of
water and the check will do…"
"The problem, is that you're too damn picky with your
missions." I sat silent as Laine went over my
record. I came seeking guidance, and that's what she was giving me…
in the form of a punitive lecture. I guess I should be grateful
though, Laine had put off a lot of her administrative duties to have
this sit-down with me. In any case, I brought this upon myself, so I
guess I was going to have to sit through it.
"The fact that you are hesitant to participate in any activity that
would require you to kill is going to severely limit your employment
opportunities. Scarred-"
She looked away from
her computer and stared straight into my eyes to make sure that she
had my complete attention.
"I'm well aware
of your predisposition to killing, but you're going to have to
overcome it if you ever hope to get anywhere in the Global
Cortex!"
"It's just that, who am I, or
even G.C., to decide who needs to live or die during the course of a
mission?"
"Neither, it's at the
discretion of our clients who outline the parameters of your
assignment, we're just here to dispense the requests. They're the
one's who pay your bills and help fund this agency, and they expect
to see their investments bear fruit to their cause."
"So, the right to play God is handed out to the highest
bidder…"
"Scarred!"
My head lowered sharply as Laine laid into me. I guess I had it
coming, trying to argue ethics with a corporate liaison.
"Why did you decide to become a Raven?"
This question caught me completely off guard. Until now, no one has
ever questioned my intentions. It was none of their business, since I
performed the jobs I was assigned without question and demanded
nothing more than what I was owed.
"It's
complicated…"
"I've got a bit of
time."
I sighed as I gathered my
thoughts.
"I… needed to kill someone."
"Needed to? Has something changed since then?"
"Yes, my hit list."
"Oh? Care to
explain?"
"I started with an obsession. I
was hell bent on killing the pilot who ruined my life. That was until
I started to notice things. Like the fact that any piece of filth can
get behind the helm of an AC if they could fit the bill. And I'm
not talking about the incompetent, I'm talking about straight up
psychopathic assholes: murderers, sadists, criminals, you name it!
All with the means to fulfill whatever dark agendas they may have!"
"What do you intend to do about this problem?"
"I intend to take out the garbage."
"Laine looked at me sideways. I guess she never took me for a homicidal maniac. She's obviously never seen any of my Arena performances. Still, I probably just dug myself a very big hole right now. If Laine considered me a threat to the AC community, she could have my license revoked and me thrown in jail. I really need to control my emotions and think before I speak…
Then something happened that I never anticipated. She smirked, and then smugly responded:
"Well, I wish the military shared your same 'go-to-it' attitude. I honestly think this planet would be a better place if they did!"
She hit a few keys on her console, and a small paper came forth from a slot on top of her desk, a built-in printer I surmised.
"Here's a request that came through not too long ago. I think it suits your… unique combat tastes."
I meekly took the paper and gave it a quick glance.
"You can send me confirmation from your cockpit. Don't keep me waiting long though, I have another pilot in mind who would love a shot at that one if you refuse."
A little while later, I'm strapped into my AC, ready to ship out to the 3rd Layered for my new mission. It was a request from Crest, which should have been an immediate deterrent, but I guess Laine had guilted me into taking whatever mission she personally delivered to me. The request was… simple, which sent another pang of doubt through my mind, but again, I wasn't about to waste Laine's efforts. The task was to "liberate" a Crest controlled factory from a group of armed insurgents. The factory was one of Crest's oldest and most profitable facilities, having survived the inevitable effects of time, Crest was not about to give it up to terrorists. Security had done their damn hardest to stop the invasion themselves, but their efforts had been quashed with minimal effort. There was also information that an AC was leading the raid. Hence the armored intervention.
The trip was relatively smooth, but then again transportation always was. If that's one thing that came complimentary, it was an express elevator ride to the front line. After that, I was the only one that had my back. The ride lasted only a couple of hours, letting me catch up on some sleep and get some online business taken care of. Thankfully half the reward contract money was awarded in advance, letting me get my rent and storage fees taken care of. If I managed to pull this sortie off, I could live worry free for at least a month before I needed to replenish my funds. I considered how sick I must have sounded, killing people so that I could live comfortably. I say fuck 'em. They knew the consequences involved in raising arms to a major corporation. My role was inevitable.
The transport stopped. My HUD display lit up automatically as I disengaged from the truck's power source and began feeding on my own. The truck's locks disengaged and the rear hatch opened to release me from my momentary confinement. I stepped warily into the dank underground and let my eyes adjust to the limited light. Looking around I found a desolate environment devoid of any signs indicating this used to be a lively center for the manufacture of AC parts. Well, except for the massive structure that loomed before me, Crest's AC factory. The monolith of rusty, disheveled metal completely contradicted the legendary advancements that were said to have taken place here. It was as if Crest had lost this factory long ago not to terrorists, but to neglect and misuse. This had to be the mistake.
"Are you sure this is the right place? This dump looks like it hasn't seen use in a century."
"These are the coordinates given by Crest. For the money they're offering you, I don't think they'd get it screwed up."
I hesitated to take another step further, but my driver was already packing up.
"Try to be in and out quick. This place gives me the willies."
"Heh, I'll try to make it quick just for you Honey…"
"Stop calling me that! You're half my age for Christ's sake!"
I loved alienating the older staff. They're just so… vulnerable!
"Alright then, back in a few…"
I started running towards the massive factory before me. The place was incredible, at least a couple of hundred acres wide, and several stories high. I couldn't imagine having to commuting here daily to go to work, but figured the place probably housed its employees as well. They'd have to give me some damn good incentive to keep coming back to this kind of place regularly.
From our point of entry, we arrived from on the side of the loading docks, so I made my dash towards the massive loading bay doors. I fruitlessly tried the electronic lock, hoping it still had some life to it. It doesn't hurt to try, ya know? Abandoning the lifeless console, I walked over to the great metal door, noting it's extensive corrosion. One good swipe would take this thing off no problem. I pulled my laser back and kindly but firmly, gave the door what it had coming. I was answered with a horrendous screech as the sliding door buckled from the gash and collapsed to the ground. Looking at the mangled pile alone made me want to get a tetanus shot. Talk about disrepair…
"Not the most elegant of entrances, but I guess it will work…"
"Laine? I didn't know you were supervising this operation!"
"My last client met with an unfortunate accident, which just happened to free up my schedule. I figured I check up on you with my newfound free time."
That probably meant that the other pilot she was looking after was killed. A little morbid, but I guess when you're in her kind of position, you have to have an apathetic outlook when it comes to your clientele.
"Alright then, just don't be a backseat driver."
"I'm sorry, but I think I have that right as your operator."
"Touché…"
I stepped into a massive dock filled with a plethora of shipping equipment, all in more or less the same condition as the exterior of the building… ancient. No one had touched this equipment in years, and yet this was one of Crest's finest facilities? I don't think so…
"I'm starting to think I've been suckered here Laine…"
"Give the place a good once over. That'll at least satisfy any qualms that Crest has about the factory being occupied."
"This place is supposed to be crawling with terrorists, yet there's no one watching the entryways. No sentries, no security devices… This place is a ghost town."
I sat in the dark for a few seconds as Laine appraised the situation.
"I'm attempting to contact Crest now. Our agency doesn't exactly approve of sending Ravens on wild goose chases, no pun intended…"
As soon as she finished saying that we heard a terrific crash come from the next room, followed by a small explosion.
"Scarred-"
"I'm on it…"
I started towards the direction of the sound, taking out an innumerable amount of broken doors as I rushed towards the unknown commotion. Common sense told me that I should have awaited Laine's judgment on the mission, but curiosity and the need for funds drove me deeper into the factory. The racket continued for a few more minutes before it grew deathly quiet. I came to a great set of double doors and stopped. The source of the sound had come from behind these doors. I warily approached and found that these doors were functional. I stepped into a great dimly-lit warehouse. The ceiling was extremely tall and the room was filled with a bunch of old metal shipping containers, all of which were gouged and riddled with bullets, evidence that the room was the setting for a ferocious battle. I looked around and saw several bits and pieces that possible were MT scraps, but I wasn't even sure of that, considering the mess that was all around. I looked around for a few seconds before I saw…it.
Standing over a particularly large smoldering heap of metal, a bipedal AC. Sleek and spotless, the machine didn't have a scratch on it, indicating either a lack of skill on the MTs part, or the flawlessness of this pilots technique. From my vantage point behind him, I could see a rear-mounted grenade launcher, an smoking yellow blade on his left arm, and these triangular arm extensions I had never seen before. As I examined him, he turned, noticing that he had an audience, letting me see the powerful right arm blade that he was packing. His AC appeared to be staring straight into my soul as its red eye gleamed from its sensors processing the new machine. A red and black paint job to accentuate its potential ferocity, and I was staring at my worst nightmare. No, it wasn't Nineball, but then who?
"What the… This wasn't part of the mission outline."
I prepped my machinegun, anticipating violent reprisal for my intrusion. Why did the pilot's voice sound familiar?
"Ah well, maybe I'll get a nice bonus for taking you out. You picked the wrong party to crash little birdie…"
(END CHAPTER 10)
Took me long enough huh? If any of m readers are still out there, I'll try (note the word "try") to get the next chapter out as fast as possible. Ciao…
