Once upon a time, there was a man. Not a monster. But a man. But then again, when it came to him – there was often little difference. Once he'd burned worlds, burned nations to ashes because it was all he could do, it was all that he could ever do. For no matter what he did on his 'home' planet, there was always a trail of carnage left behind. Cities had turned to rubble in his wake, nothing but metallic scrap to be salvaged and be reused in a never-ending war for attrition and resources for a planet that could no longer sustain life itself save, for the scraps of humanity that still remained under the crushing heel of their masters. The man was not graced with a name, at least not in his early years which he could no longer recall but the numbing memory of a childhood that was naught but of survival before he became who he was afterwards.
They called him, 'Augmented Human, C6-348'.
In a process that stripped him of what little humanity he had been born with, they carved open his flesh for war – and remade him in their image. He could still feel the cold sockets on his neck, meant to be plugged into his machine – his 'NEXT'. A war machine of immensely desirable power, capable of leveling cities by itself while destroying the very world it had been made on. His alone, had racked up kill counts in the thousands for which he had lost count of. It was only then that he had earned another name, one that had been given to all others who had been grafted to their 'NEXT's, 'Lynx'. It was more a title than a name, one that inspired ruthless pragmatism and cruelty for the sake of profit. Some rose above better than their peers, dying early with hope in their hearts and morals left in their minds before being snuffed out as quickly as a candle being crushed. He was not one of those people, he didn't have time to think about being better than who he was now. For the only thing that he could think of in that moment, from the day he first stepped into the Human-Plus center to be augmented with a AMS or Allegorical Manipulation System – to the day he'd die, was the next contract to be completed.
He had earned another name for himself when he first went onto his first contract, a simple job that required the extermination of Muscle Tracers – a model of inexpensive mechs meant for security work in quelling human trespassers, something that for once in his life had chosen himself. That name was 'Strayed'.
Years upon years of combat missions had turned him into the very thing he served in, an unfeeling machine. He could still remember the cold iron taste of the sensations of the AMS plugged into him gave him, the shuddering frame of his NEXT quickly boosting from side to side as he dodged missiles and stray projectiles alike. He remembered fighting some of he best and coming out on top. Rebels, Mercenaries, Free Thinkers, Elite, Joshua O'Brien… That last one still felt cold to remember. And he was so, so tired of all of it all.
He'd be lying if he said it wasn't fun. On the contrary, every time he went out to deploy there was an exhilarating feeling sitting in his NEXT, as the adrenaline flowed through his veins. Feeling the recoil impact of his rifles across his entire body, always aiming at something to shoot at. Yet when all was said and done, it wasn't something he wanted to do forever. At least, if he had the time to think in those early days.
Then one day he'd be given choice. Strayed, for as long as he could remember had little say in the path of which the world would take. So it was wholly ironic that he was the one to burn it so soon after. Everything was rotten by that point, at least he would have believed. The corporations – regardless of their intentions controlled everything, from human lives serving as cattle to be recycled into the next nutrient paste, to Strayed himself, and the fate of humanity. The terrorist organization 'ORCA' was in and of itself a corporation-owned group. Despite their promises that they would leave the planet behind with his help, he saw the ruse that was in store for humanity. Even if they escaped the dying planet that was promised with their words, the truth of the fact that the corporations would follow humanity and repeat a never-ending cycle of warfare and resource exhaustion. He chose his next path, and for that he was called a monster – a rabid dog much like his namesake that needed to be put down. The thing is however, is how can you put down a rabid dog if it's bitten into your neck and ended your life before you could even have the chance to react?
He brought down the Cradles, condemning future humanity and millions – potentially billions of lives to death and felt all the better for it. For what life was worth living under another? At least in that time, he thought he had the best answer. There he would have his second-to-last name, 'Monster'. It didn't matter to him what they called him, at least the cycle he hoped would be ended in a world of cleansing fire. And when he was the only Lynx left, he did the only thing he could do.
He fought.
In the last days after the 'Great Destruction' or so they started to term it, a last-ditch effort was made to finally end Strayed's legacy. No price was too great for this battle, for thousands died in an attempt to put down the one who had started the end of times. Former League Lynx – ancient veterans of the Lynx War who were more bone than skin in their own age, Arms Forts whose massive constructions towered small skyscrapers, and finally the endless Muscle Tracers, Tanks, Helicopters, and Human Plus soldiers all met Strayed in an open desert field as the blood watered the ever-shifting sands.
It had taken all this to finally put an end to Strayed, for if it wasn't for his lack of munitions and no safe haven for the endless horde of League Remnants, who knows who would have won this battle. He recalls the last day of his life, quick-boosting towards a restored Arms Fort with a Kojima Cannon sitting on top of it, black smoke billowing out from it as it had been damaged numerous times before by his NEXT's missiles. He had spent all his ammunition in that battle, and if he was going to go out, it might as well be something memorable to go by. With his man boosters active, his AALIYAH sped towards the Arms Fort with incredible speed as he watched the Kojima Cannon starting to charge up for it's last and final shot. In response, he did the only thing he could do that was left as his final option. An Assault Armor blast that enveloped both him and the Arms Fort before… Something happened. A white light as it were, almost mistakable for death.
Strayed sighed, wondering how long had it been since he'd reminisced about those days. Sitting by and open windowsill facing the skyscrapers of the small town called 'Brockton Bay', and with a cup of coffee in his hands – he wondered what he'd done to get here. Of course, it was rhetorical, pondering on the nature of why he had ended up here so many years ago but a subject he still pondered from time to time. Taking a sip of the bitter and scalding-hot liquid, his mind wandered to that of his daughter. Taylor. She had been… Reclusive these last few years, ever since his wife died. She was the one person who he grew a close connection with, it almost brought him fond memories. Almost.
Running a hand over his black hair, which was starting to wither away in his mid 40's to a solid white, he continued to stare out into the open blue sky for a brief moment before getting up from the chair with a groan. His bones creaking slightly as he got up, turning to face the kitchen. He was nearly out of coffee and soon he would need to pick Taylor up from Winslow. Strayed – Rather, Danny Hebert raised her as well as he could. If he was being honest however, it was mostly his late wife's work that had raised their child together. It brought a small smile to his face, something that in ages past would've been unthinkable, to remember the happy days with his loving wife and his wonderful daughter who'd he give his life for. Once Danny managed to get to the kitchen and by extension, the goal that was the coffee maker. He'd set the empty cup nearby for a later time in the sink, postponing it for another opportunity to clean the cup later.
Leaving the kitchen, he grabbed a brown leather coat and tossed it over his white unpressed shirt. His keys jangling in his pocket as went past the living room and directly to the front door, opening before closing it behind him. He was careful not to step on the rotten wood, knowing with his weight he would probably break it if he wasn't paying attention. Truth be told, he both looked forwards to and dreaded picking up his daughter from Winslow each time he drove there. She'd gotten quiet after her mother's death, and neither of them had recovered from it mentally. Danny… Couldn't. How could he anyways? He was born into war without feeling, and so he had shut himself out from feeling anything at all. He frowned as he walked towards his Toyota Corolla, Annette had always been better at emotions. And yet, the fault still laid with him – and he knew. He'd been wanting to repair that relationship, but there had always been something stopping him. And now, Taylor had been especially quiet ever since the beginning years of high school, something which worried him immensely.
Opening the driver's side door and getting in the car, he laid back into the cushioned seat for a moment. Closing his eyes briefly before opening them once again, leaning forwards to buckle up his seat belt and putting the key in the ignition. Feeling the rumble as he started the engine… His NEXT had always been noisy, and yet in those brief moments of inaction- somehow was quieter than his current transportation. At the memory, his AMS ports itched. Instinctively Danny flipped up his collar in the back to hide the AMS ports that would stick out slightly, before looking out the front window.
Slowly the Toyota Corolla left the driveway, heading off for Winslow High as it joined the main traffic of the city. Driving off into the distance as the sunlight began to slowly turn a yellow-reddish hue as it drove on, before the light faded behind concrete pillar skyscrapers. Danny may be a Dockworker Spokesperson, and head of hiring. And there was so much more he had never told his daughter.
Maybe today he would repair that relationship with her, finally ask her what had been bothering for the longest time. Why the two of them had been so quiet.
Maybe today would be the day.
As he was driving, he got a phone call. Typically with his disdain for phones he would've never picked it up while driving. When he had finally stopped in a parking lot near Winslow High did he pick it up. And suddenly, once again- He was Strayed.
AN : Hello Everyone! The Author here, yes- I know I haven't written a story or a chapter in a long while. Truthfully, I'm always on and off writing motivation, but here I thought even if I couldn't publish another chapter of this. I'd love to share this story idea with others, and with the announcement and gameplay release of Armored Core 6 : Fires of Rubicon, I think there's a distinct lack of Armored Core Fanfictions. So- I'm trying my hand at one, and even if it may not be good. I'll do my best. Cheerio, and see you until later.