Choking smoke and the sound of thunder, that seemed to be the only thing he saw coming – that was all he heard as he regained consciousness. The world as he knew it had disappeared, only to be replaced by choking smoke and the sound of thunder.

What had caused it though, what had turned everything into this scene from hell?

Well, that 'honor' belonged to those 'things' that raced across this city.

The MS, the Mobile Suits. The iron giants whose movements alone caused the world beneath them to crack and shudder under their weight. When they ran or glided across the ground, they ripped apart chunks of cement and 'howled' in a way that seemed like a storm being born. When they fired their weapons, they shattered windows and blew out car alarms. When they fell upon the streets, they pulverized anything that had been unfortunate enough to stand in their way.

Mobile Suits… honestly it was hard to believe these things were manmade, especially when they seemed more like some kind of natural disaster trapped within a chassis of cold steel, something routinely chipped and dented and scarred from battles, with their cycloptic eye cams that glowed like some kind of fabled giant.

Mobile Suits, these things seemed made only for combat and destruction, were doing the one thing that seemed to give them purpose; and they were not alone.

Traveling beneath these iron apparitions were the Mobile Workers, these legged things that raced across the streets and across uneven grounds like hunting dogs chasing prey.

And beneath them – within all these apparitions of iron were people; although it was hard to consider them such.

It was hard to believe – let alone accept that a human would be responsible for laying so many bodies in the ground, let alone do so without batting an eye.

These are the thoughts that echo across the minds of those who bear witness to the horrors brought about by a battle like this; with stories pieced together by the survivors of such conflicts.

These thoughts though, they did not even register in the mind of a child somewhere between six and seven. In fact, it seemed they barely acknowledged anything that was going on around them. Sure, they looked around, they saw what was becoming of this place, but they did not seem to care as they pulled themselves out of the rubble that surrounded them. They didn't seem to really acknowledge anything that was going around them, let alone acknowledge the blood staining their sleeve and dripping down their left arm.

Maybe it was the shock of everything going on that had caused this sense of apathy to run through them, caused their brain to 'shut down' so to speak.

Maybe it was something else.

Regardless of the cause, the youth simply stared out into the world as they looked at this scene out of hell and did nothing besides move.

They didn't scream, or cry as they did, and truthfully it was hard to believe that they were even thinking. They just moved, looking out into the world with that one eye that had not been blinded by blood.

As they did, they watched this war going on, having a front row seat to the carnage that was being laid out before them.

Assault vehicles disappeared as they were attacked, and Armored Cores crashed into the streets with dents and holes ripping through them.

Glass was broken and scattered everywhere on the grounds.

Vehicles were crushed into the dirt, like someone would occasionally do a soda can.

People were dead in the streets, and not all of them sought this war.

The youth saw all of this, and he saw more until his vision was blinded by a machine grinded to a halt not that far from him, its actions tearing apart a street and kicking up debris into the air. It was fighting, firing that weapon of its own before it seemingly turned to glance at him.

A young man found himself waking to the sound of his heart in his ears. The damn thing in his chest was pounding so loudly that it seemed ready to jump out of his chest. Honestly, he hated this feeling, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it. Well, there wasn't anything he could do besides just wait it out, and be grateful that he hadn't lunged forward in bed or threw himself out of bed and fallen on his face.

It's the little things you had to be grateful for.

Either way taking a minute to wrap his fingers around the bridge of his nose, the youth slowly moved it upwards to run the hand through his short onyx colored hair.

"That dream again…"

Dream? No dream wasn't the right word; memory would be more accurate. Old memories like to come back when you least expect them too. Other times they liked to just stick around like a bad cold.

This memory of the latter breed; it didn't go away no matter how many years passed.

It didn't go away no matter how much he wanted it to.

Maybe that was for the best; after all, if he forgot then…

The onyx haired figure shook his head, pushing the thought away before turning so he could plant his feet on the cold iron floor. He actually wasn't that bothered by the cold. Then again, he had a habit of wearing socks to bed. Getting to his feet, the figure took a minute to stretch before the sound of a door sliding open caught his attention.

"Hm." A red haired teen began. "You actually woke up on your own today." They muttered, crossing their arms and seemed almost impressed. "That's an impressive feat."

"Is it now?" The onyx haired teen muttered with this light chuckle as he looked at his counterpart. As some might say, the 'curtains match the drapes'; the youth had red hair and red eyes.

"I'd say so. Usually someone has to drag you out of bed." The red head admitted. "What happened? Have a bad dream?"

"I wouldn't say that." The other stated with a light stretch, raising his arms above his head as he made a noise.

"Well, what would you call it then?"

"Nothing to be concerned about." Was the response he gave as he walked over to his closet and grabbed some clothes. "Either way, you mind?" He asked. "I gotta hit the showers."

"Scared someone will beat you to it?"

"Something like that." His counterpart just shrugged before moving away from the door and gestured for him to step outside.

"Well, if that's the case, don't let me stand in your way." They paused for a moment. "Just don't take too long, remember you got a big thing coming up later today."

"I do?" The youth muttered as he seemed to think for a moment before his eyes widened in surprise. "Holy shit, you're right!" The red head just gave him a look, somewhere between disbelief and veiled humor.

"How you forgot is beyond me." They muttered. "Hurry up and get ready, you still got a schedule to fill out before you get going."

323 P.D (Post Disaster) Century

Earth / North America

Raven's Haunt.

In a world that had been broken and scarred and polluted by countless wars between Corporations and other human related factions, the Raven't Haunt was a name that was well known across a number of lands, both across the seas of earth and the colonies that drift amongst the stars.

Raven's Haunt, or simply the Haunt, was an independent organization built for Raven's - the mercenary Mobile Suit Pilots that were seen as the favored weapons of every warring faction across the Sol System.

It's main purpose was to serve and assist Ravens, whether that be granting them supplies or MS repairs, or otherwise assisting in supporting the Raven groups under their umbrella. There was a bit more to the Raven's Haunt than that, but that was all that the leader of Ashbourne cared about at the moment.

If it hadn't been for the Raven's Haunt, he wouldn't have been able to keep this little place of his running as long as he had.

This place was just an old and empty outpost before he got his hands on it. By empty he meant that there weren't even roaches willing to stick around. Though to be fair, even after getting this place fixed up and refortified, he still hadn't seen any roaches lurking about.

"Eh~ maybe i just got lucky." The leader of the Ashbourne company thought as he continued his jog, heading down the street as he passed more than a few buildings.

Zelkova Ashes. No one outside his company knew if that was his real name or a cover, but at the end of the day that was how he preferred it. From the looks of it, he was somewhere between his late 20's and his early 30's. He had short but brushed back black hair, and black eyes, nothing too crazy or out there, and he had some scars on his face, courtesy of a few close calls. Both in and outside of Mobile Suit combat.

Coming to a gradual stop the Raven leader came upon one of the fenced off areas of his territory and looked down into it.

What he saw was one of their training areas, a place filled with containers that were stacked on top of each other, some of them stacked a bit too high for anyone to reach. That said they formed these pathways and chokepoints and the like.

Place hadn't changed since he last saw it, but that was fine, what mattered was that it was in use right now.

His kids were running about this place. They were running and fighting as they did everyday; with body armor and paintballs. Without much prompting he leaned against the high fence and decided to enjoy the show.

Fayt ran, darting across the grounds as fast as his two legs could carry him before turning on his heel and took off behind a few containers. Coming up behind him, another figure immediately paused, looked around and realized he was gone. "Well, you're getting faster at hiding." The figure muttered as they lowered their rifle before reaching for their handgun, turned and opened fire. Fayt grunted as paint slammed into his body armor and forced him to readjust his positioning behind a container. "But your actual hiding could still use some work."

"Yeah, yeah." Fayt muttered as he aimed his rifle out from behind a corner as he opened fire. His opponent dodged making for the closest container as they jumped, their waist-mounted jumpkit helping them climb up the wall before getting on top of it. That done they ran forward, stopping at the edge of the container and aimed down. Fayt moved, jumping back as he avoided a few balls of paint and refocused his fire. His attacker used the roof to hide themself, before taking off after him. Fayt continued to retreat, glancing to the side as he noticed another crate he could hide behind. They didn't press their fire, instead just waiting for him to come out. Behind his helmet Fayt took a breath, taking notice of the paint streaks that were on his shoulder and sighed to himself. "Well, at least these wouldn't kill."

"This would." Fayt froze, a rifle muzzle pressed to the back of his helmet and tapping against it. "If this wasn't paint, you know."

"Yeah." Fayt grumbled, dropped his rifle and sighed in annoyance.

"Giving up?"

"Not yet Odrevi." Before the rifle could be fired, Fayt ducked, swung around and pushed the rifle away with his elbow. With his other arm he swung his combat knife, bringing it around to leave a trail of paint running across the air. He rushed forward and Odrevi stepped back, both of them using their jump kits; one used it to boost his charge, the other used it to jump overhead. Odrevi raised their handgun and pointed down, Fayt responded with a quick dodge to the side and raised his free arm, a grappling cable shooting out of his gauntlet and latched onto his opponent's body armor. He pulled them down without so much as a thought, barely dodging the next paint bullet and swung his knife at them. Odrevi responded with their handgun, using it as a makeshift melee weapon and blocked. That done he readjusted his aim, shooting at Fayt only to miss as the boy knocked the weapon away and made another swing with his knife. Odrevi ducked, lunged forward and planted his handgun under his counterpart's chin.

"Still just a little slow." Odrevi told him as Fayt breathed behind his helmet. "You're getting better though." They admitted as they lowered their handgun, stepped back and holstered the sidearm. "Pretty soon you might be able to keep up with me in close-quarters combat."

"Can only hope." Fayt muttered. Without a word he moved, and so did Odrevi, both youths getting out of the way as they avoided a volley of bullets being sent their way.

From outside the training grounds, Zelkova could be seen smiling as he took in what he could concerning his kids. "Looks like they're going ok." he muttered as he started to push himself off the fence. "Might need to order more paint though."

"Enjoying the show?" Turning slightly, Zelkova saw that someone was walking up to him, a tablet in their hand as they messed with it.

"Well, I don't have the best seat in the house but~" Zelkova joked as he shrugged. "What I've seen isn't too bad." he stated as he started leaning against the fence again. "What do you think Smoke? How are they progressing?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Smoke handed Raphael the tablet and let him see what was going on. "They're getting better everyday."

"Glad to hear it." Zelkova muttered as he flipped through a few camera feeds and made a noise. "The better they get, the better their chances of surviving out here are."

"You're not wrong." After all, while Ravens spent most of their combat history in a Mobile Weapon, not all conflicts could be resolved with such a thing. After all, there were places where a Mobile Weapon couldn't reach, and situations where piloting simply wasn't an option. When that happened, a Raven had to fight on the ground, and if they couldn't do that…

"So… any work being sent our way?" Smoke asked as he saw Zelkova remaining focused on the tablet before him.

"What, your wallet losing too much weight?"

"Not at all." Smoke mutters. "Even without Raven's Haunt making sure jobs get sent our way, I still make enough thanks to the Arena fights." Smoke states as he looks at his phone for a moment. "But I could always use a bit more."

"Well, can't disagree with you there." Zelkova muttered as he heard a 'ping' ring out from his pocket. Without much prompting he pulled his phone and saw a message. "And your in luck, we just got something sent our way."

"What is it?"

"An escort job?" Hikaru nodded as he went back to eating, casually biting into his sandwich at Amalea's question.

Breakfast wasn't great, but it was edible at least. To be honest, when you're a mercenary that's all you can really hope for most of the time. Food's not gonna cause you to start singing songs about how great it is, but at the same time it's not gonna be so bad you wanna throw up just by smelling it. End of the day, it was just food, good food but not the best out there; if you wanted to be better or exotic, you'd better know the right people or be ready to fork over a good bit of coin.

"Yeah, from what Zelkova says, Artemisia wants a team to look after one of their transport trains. It'll be pulling into the Green District tomorrow." Odrevi stated as he took a bite from his sandwich.

"Guess that means Holand won't be in charge of our Mobile Workers training tomorrow." Fayt muttered, taking a minute to eat as well.

"Fraid so." Hikaru stated. "If Holand isn't going to be training us, you know who will." Everyone at the table shared a look.

"Mai." They sighed in unison.

"She's gonna run us ragged."

"I know…" One of the youths muttered as they took another bite of their food. "I'd rather do a solo job than go through her training."

"Don't think you're the only one." Amalea grumbled as she shivered and the others fell silent.

"Is there anything we can talk about that doesn't make me dread tomorrow?" Odrevi grumbled as he rested a hand on his chin. Hikari seemed to think for a moment before seeming to shrug.

"Fayt will be in the Arena today."

Odrevi seemed to perk up for a moment as he glanced at the other youth. "That's today?"

"Yeah, apparently." Fayt muttered in embarrassment as Amalea smiled at him.

"Well, that's certainly good news then. If you win in the arena today that means that you've earned enough coam to pay for citizenship." She stated as Fayt nodded his head. "That means, you won't be Human Debris anymore.

"Yeah." Hikaru just looked at his companion without saying anything for a while, instead just continuing to eat what was laid out before him.

Human Debris; the term was something he'd heard on more than one occasion. People used it to describe orphaned children that had been sold as human slaves for the same value as space debris. Usually recognized by the red stripes on their clothing, Human Debris used by many different companies and organizations for slave labor, they weren't allowed to own land or even receive payment for their services. Hell, most of them couldn't even spell their name, let alone read.

… Well that's how it normally was anyway.

Ashbourne was a bit different when it came to Human Debris. Sure, they used them as mobile infantry, and weren't paid for their services; but Ashbourne did take the time to educate them and allow them to make money by taking part in arena bouts. Money that they could use to remove their Human Debris status by applying for citizenship.

They got citizenship they could be seen as human again.

If they gained citizenship, they could live like real people again.

They were lucky in that regard. There were more than a few companies that could give a rats ass about their Human Debris.

"Just don't choke." Hikaru stated finally. "Otherwise you'll have to wait till the next opportunity arrives." Fayt nodded his head.

"Right." He stated. "I won't."

'I swear to high hell, when I started out as a mercenary I never thought I'd eventually get myself a desk job.' Zelkova Ashes, leader of the Ashbourne Mercenary Company, sighed in annoyance as he leaned back in his chair and rested a hand on his chin. Before him, Mila just continued going over a few things that she felt needed to be brought to his attention.

Like the fact that they needed to order another shipment of rations.

And the fact they would need more paint by the end of the week for the kids to shoot each other with.

Also some faulty pipes had been located in the lower levels..

'Oh god, I can't wait for tomorrow so I can get out of here and actually do something productive.' He told himself as he rubbed his temples. Out of nowhere Mila swatted him in the back of the head. "Hey!"

"Are you still listening to me, Zelkova?"

"I am." Zelkova stated, rubbing the back of his head.

"What was the last thing I said?" That got Zelkova to go quiet as Mila gave him this look between annoyance, humor and 'I thought so'. She settled down on the edge of the desk as she stared at the tablet in her hand. "Fayt will be having an Arena match today." She told him. "If he's lucky it'll be his last match before he's earned enough to pay for citizenship."
"Right." Zelkova muttered as he crossed his arms. "Who's he going to be up against?"

"Take a look." Mila muttered as she passed Zelkova the tablet.

BLOCK |RANK | PILOT NAME | MS NAME

C-15 | ROADS || GOLIATH

The Public Information Network wasn't allowed to tell him anything else. Sure there was a picture of both the pilot and the Mobile Suit but that was really it. To be honest though, he didn't need to know anything else about the pair. He could learn all he wanted by seeing it in action. Still.

"C-Block, Rank 15 huh…" Zelkova muttered as he passed the tablet back. "That's a good call for him. Not to above his paygrade."

"You think?"

"Yeah. This should be a good match up for him." Zelkova stated as he seemed to think for a moment. "Well, it should anyway."

"Doubts?"

"More than a few." Zelkova admitted with a sigh. "More… than… a few."

MOBILE SUIT OPERATING SYSTEM

/OBELISK/

HEAD: EB-06

TORSO: OZ-00MS

ARMS: RX-178

LEGS: MMS-01

Still, sitting inside his personal mobile Suit, Fayt kept his attention focused on his laptop; a few short wires and plugs connecting the piece of hardware to everything that situated around him. Looking at his computer, one would find a bunch of nonsense running across it. It made little sense to most people - especially the illiterate, but all of this nonsense sort of… made sense to him.

Sort of. It wasn't that he could accurately read what was showing on the screen before him, but rather it was more… intuition perhaps. Honestly, he couldn't accurately explain it, but he did understand that it had to do with the neural cord linking him to the machine he was in. When he was linked to his machine, the gibberish on screen just… made sense.

Fayt took a minute to look over the information presented before him as he scrolled through a few things, before typing something into his laptop. "Alright partner… talk to me." He muttered as he continued messing with a few things. Adjusting the Mobile Suits OS and tuning a few more things. "Alright how's that feel?" He asked, taking a moment to grab the mobile suit's controls and made a few mostly unacknowledged movements with his mobile suit's head, arms and feet.

"How's it feeling?" Turning his head, Fayt took notice of Odrevi standing on the hanger pathway that led to his Mobile Suit's cockpit. "Any issues?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that there's any issues…" Fayt muttered, his attention quickly returning to his laptop as he made a face. "But the legs still feel a little heavy."

"I'm not surprised." Odrevi, the one usually responsible in servicing his Mobile Suit, just stepped up to the cockpit, and leaned against the opening as glanced at his counterparts computer taking a look at the schematics being brought up for them. "Those legs are still new right, you're not used to them yet. Even with your tuning, it's still gonna take you some time to adjust to them."

"I know…" Fayt muttered as he got back to work.

The legs; Fayt had decided to replace his mobile suit's legs about a week or two ago. Won them as a prize from a previous Mobile Suit Fight but he didn't need them at the so he just kept them in storage for a rainy day.

That rainy day came when his last arena fight all but crippled his original leg parts. Sure, he pulled through in the end, but his Obelisk's legs were fucked to high hell, and repairing them would cost a cost him a small fortune. Thankfully these spares were available so he didn't have to worry too much.

"You know…" Odrevi spoke up. "If you're still having trouble adjusting to the Mobile Suit, you can push things back a bit. You can head out when you've gotten used to the changes."

"No it's fine…" Fayt muttered as he continued messing with his OS system and the controls. "The change in weight isn't that much of a problem… I can pilot like this."

"If you say so." Odrevi didn't push the subject as he watched his counterpart get back to work. "Remember, if you lose, there's always the next arena fight…"

"I know." Fayt muttered. "But if I can win this one…" Fayt muttered as he stopped working for a moment. "If I can win…"

If he won, he'd have finished earning enough to become human again.

He'd be like Odrevi and Hikaru.

"You've gotten better." Odrevi admitted out of nowhere. "You've become a far better pilot than you were 5 years ago." It was the truth. Fayt had gotten better in those 5 years. He used to overheat his boosters nonstop and his piloting skills were terrible. Couldn't aim a rifle to save his life either. Only thing he could do was tune his Mobile Suit - and that was only because Odrevi and the others had him learn to do that first. Regardless he was an abysmal pilot back then, but he never skipped training seasons, and gradually he improved to get where he was now.

One victory away from having enough coam to apply for citizenship.

"Thanks." Fayt muttered as he released a light smile. "I'm glad I'm getting better, but I'm still a long way from getting to your level." Another little truth they both knew. Odrevi was good - no he wasn't good, he was great. Odrevi had a talent for piloting and Mobile Weapon maintenance, and Hikaru… well Hikaru had a ind of aptitude that you come across every couple generations. There probably wasn't a Mobile Suit he couldn't pilot and bring out its fuel potential… and his maintenance work, it could make your heart stop.

"You shouldn't compare your skills to ours." Odrevi grumbled. "We may also be pilots, but we're different from each other. I don't fight like you do, I don't think you do, and because of that I don't learn or "Level up" like you do." He stated as he took one last look at his counterpart's work before stepping away from the cockpit. "Don't compare your skills to mine, and don't try to go at another's pace. Find your own and start from there."

"Right." Fayt muttered as he looked at his computer one last time before closing the files and shutting it down. Soon as he was done he reached behind his neck, and pulled the Neural Connection cables from the interface Jack at the base of his neck.

"Are you done?"

"For now." Fayt stated. "I'm gonna take a minute and relax. After that I'll do a bit more work." Fayt seemed to pause. "When's my match by the way?

"Two hours." Odrevi paused before seeming to look back. "Good luck out there."