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So, I have elected to call this a 'pitch chapter'.
Basically, I write what would be the intro chapters of a story idea I find intriguing, toss it up, and see if anyone wants to adopt it and have me continue it. Details in DMs if you're into it, and anyone is free to play with the idea.
Hope you enjoy!
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For ten thousand years of recorded history, Humanity fought against the Grimm with pure desperation. Mere men, women, and those between going up against wolves and bears twice their size, mammoths the size of buildings, creatures whose mere voices could shatter resolve, and monstrosities that would turn rock, stone, and steel into their own bodies, and turn them against Humanity. Armies were forged by the desperate, the hungry, and the powerful, and legends were written. Fortresses rose, villages were founded and cities emerged, all working tirelessly to beat back the darkness. To forge and feed and train, just to scrabble in the dirt for what they could hold, and make way for a brighter future. As one voice, one force, we stood to face the darkness.
And it won…
Setback after setback, loss after loss, the darkness ripped down what was built… And would have cut Humanity down, had we not found a way forward.
Dust. Dust and Aura, and the steady understanding of how to apply them, turned desperate nomads and bronze-swinging armies into forces to be reckoned with. Lines of gun-men, pikes, machine guns - eventually, tanks and droids. They broke the darkness' momentum, and slowed the ever-present siege of the Grimm down to a crushing, chronic crawl for the next five thousand years of recorded history.
But the Grimm ever stopped…
And failures happened.
A general dead there, a mistake in logistics here. A racist, a bigot, a freedom fighter, a desperate survivor - each made their dents in the uniform walls protecting Humanity. Dents became cracks, became crevasses, became losses. Slowly. One after another, sometimes decades apart, for five thousand years. Ten Kingdoms shrank, until two centuries ago when there were only four, and the scattered remnants of villages and towns between. Each pushed to breaking…
Until, one day, the skies were alight.
Bright flashes, like streaks of lightning, arced across the emptiness beyond Remnant. They went on their way, back and forward, but sometimes struck things. Which exploded violently, in splashes of color visible in the night-sky. Telescopes could make out shapes, like great ships impossibly far beyond the sky, but to all else it looked as if the stars themselves had gone to war.
Which was not far from true…
Over the next few days, the battle raged, until it finally ended and we were left alone. Until a year later when, as Remnant circled its sun, it drifted through the drifting flotsam of the battlefield, and debris rained down. The storm of metal and fire burnt Vacuo's scattered, arid forests to nothing and, over the next two centuries, the damage settled into the deserts we know today. Most of what fell to Remnant's surface was more or less slag, albeit of advanced alloys that on their own allowed such research as to revolutionize robotics, prosthetics and even more basic engineering, once they were understood.
Most, but not all…
Four machines, damaged and missing their cockpits, was found in the belly of a titanic warship. Or at least, the front quarter of it that survived crashing into the deserts of Vacuo. Other, similar machines had been found in various states of annihilation to know what they were, but these were… Unique. In form and apparent function. Basic repairs were made and one was dispersed to each of the four Kingdoms, to be studied alongside the pieces of machines they'd recovered throughout the desert.
These four machines, and their children, have stood for Humanity ever since, even as the Grimm grow to match them in size or numbers, or sometimes both, and their technology is better adapted to our needs.
By now, the original four rest, too damaged, to fight any longer…
But their names echo in the history books, the only thing of real worth and forthrightness to come from the damaged memory units of the Starborne, as they came to be called-
Mobile Suit - Gundam.
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Jaune woke up as early as ever to a tiny shape jumping onto his stomach and squawking excitedly, "Jauney, it's time for da robot walkies!"
"Got it, Sapphire…" He groaned, rolling over in bed while the seven year old scrambled over him to the window at the head of his bed, where she tried to peek out and see the Militia prepping morning patrol. He chuckled as he shoved her off his chest and sat up, rolling his neck to work a crick out and sighing, "You know, there are eight other people that could definitely take you to see the Militia trading out their Mobile Suit sentries."
"I mean, duh." The seven year old rolled her bright blue eyes, "But daddy's busy, mommy's busy, and the others are dummies."
"Meaning…?"
"They dunno robot stuff." She shrugged, "Not like you do."
"They all have the same classes I do, Sapphire."
"Yeah, but you lemme sneak up on the wall to look at the woods."
"Ah, yeah, fair. They can't do that." He smiled, rolling his shoulder as he stood. His room was small, like his siblings', with a bed in one corner and a dresser by the door and not much else aside from his bookshelf of models and comics, that he checked over with a frown, tapping a finger on the silver one with its long, shoulder-mounted cannon, "Sapphire, did you touch Atlas?"
"Noooo…."
"I'm not mad." He promised, "But if you didn't, we have someone breaking in, so I'll have to lock you out…"
"No one broke in!"
"Ghosts, then?" He smirked, not turning to look at her even as he heard her stand on his bed. "That's even worse… I'll have to spend all morning setting out salt and stuff to catch it. We'll miss the Mobile Suits and-"
"I-I just like to look at it!" She admitted nervously, "I-I just wanted to look- She's so shiny!"
Setting aside that even a Gundam wouldn't have a gender, he had to agree. Atlas' heavy armor and canon were all pristine and shiny, aside from the scars on its broad, square pauldrons and hip protectors. The crest of armor that rose around its head was just as pitted, painted a matte black, but even that had a sheen. A sheen Jaune had spent hours working to get just right before he felt comfortable to put it on his shelf, right in the center of the rest, where the heavily armored vanguard deserved to be. He always wished he'd been able to find the version with the shield, though.
He always thought a vanguard looked better with a shield.
"As long as you're careful." He sighed, looking at a finger-print smudge he'd finally found at the tip of the barrel - he'd need to get a rag and clean it later, when he had time. Leaving it for now, though, he said, "Go and get dressed, then. I need to, too. Then we'll head out."
"Okay."
"And don't forget your pack." Jaune added as she hopped off his bed, stumbled a bit, and ran towards his door. Calling after her, he said, "You only get to come to study the wall sensors!"
"I know!" She chirped as she left, voice fading as she ran, "I'll 'member!"
"No running in the house!" He heard his dad say as Jaune sighed, stood, and shut the door.
It was a warm day today, so Jaune opted for some simple jeans and a t-shirt, along with his favorite leather boots. They were the same the Militia wore, running hal-fway up his calves and with the symbol of Vale sewn into the sides. His shirt and jeans were normal, though - with a Pumpkin Pete splashed across the back from when he'd won it a couple years ago. Two good years of wearing the heavy black pack he pulled on had rubbed at it a bit, but it was only missing a few flecks.
Besides, no one picked on him because Pumpkin Pete was missing part of a tooth…
The hall outside his room had three other doors for the top floor, not counting the bathroom door at the end right at the top of the stairs. One was for Sapphire and the twins, who were only nine. The other was Jade's now that Saphron had moved out, and the last was split up between Emerald and Rose, who were just a couple years behind Jaune. Down the curved stairs, Jaune was in the dining room. Their house didn't really have a living room, they just used it as a dining room with a TV against a wall, and the back half of the downstairs was split between he and his dad's workshop, the water-closet, and his parents' bedroom.
"Jaune!" Sapphire chirped excitedly from the table, already halfway through some eggs on toast.
"Hey, I think I recognize you from somewhere, kiddo." She giggled and he smiled, heading over to the counter-island that split up the dining room from the kitchen and taking the plate his weary looking mother sat down for him.
She and his dad were both in their late forties by now, and both looked like they'd had eight kids, but his mother never let how tired she was affect her. Nor did his dad, who Jaune could hear working in the workshop even now. That didn't stop his dad from teasing her for being a 'short old lady from the shows', though. Or stop her from keeping the whole house clean and everyone fed more or less on her own. Saphron had picked up a lot of the cleaning on her own, but ever since the wedding…
"Work today?" His mom asked, fishing for an answer to her real question, 'Can you help around the house?'
"Gotta check the wall-sensors, then the ones in the forest." He nodded, "Militia's been reporting weird readings."
"Weird like Grimm…?"
"Nah, tater-tot." He smiled, reaching over to ruffle the suddenly nervous girl's short, ratty blonde hair. She was wearing her little cover-alls, like he always said to when she came with him, and a thin, long-sleeved shirt to keep her safe from accidental shock. Quietly, for her sake and his mom's, he explained, "Weird feedback and tectonic reports. We don't sit on a fault-line, and the only broadcast is the Vale Network Tower, so neither make sense. Most likely, some of the readers have a fault in their broadcast connections and I'll need to mark parts for swap-out."
"That sounds expensive…"
"Nah, should have plenty of spares in the Militia-house." He hoped, at least - they were Militia sensors, after all, so surely they'd have spare internals. They always had before. If not… "Well, Ansel has its reserves anyways just for this."
"I suppose…" She sighed, setting out a bowl of eggs and a plate of toast and leaning on the counter, pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing. "It just always ruins the budget come harvest season. Everyone has to put into the reserve instead of new tools, and… Ugh."
"I know." He frowned, "I'll do what I can, mom. I promise."
"I know, sweetheart, I know…" She pursed her lips, rested her hands on her hips, and put on a brighter tone as she went on, "All that aside… Is your apprentice ready for her first day actually helping you on the job? Or is she trying to get by just watching the Militia's MS units?"
"It's not my fault they're cool!"
"She's passed her tests so far, so..." And fairly well, too. Most people struggled in their first year of Apprenticeship but, for as easily distracted as she seemed, Sapphire was a natural in his field. "Honestly, I still think she'd do better with dad."
"So do I, but-"
"Don't wanna be stuck in his smelly office all day!" Sapphire pouted, crossing her arms like Jaune was trying to make her. "I like it better with Jaune. I get to be outside…"
"We know, sweetheart." His mom nodded, "Your father's work just… Pays better. That's all."
"One of the twins would be better." Jaune suggested quietly, "They both hate weapons maintenance, even if they're good at it, and they'll be eligible to take the tests in a few months when they hit ten."
"I know." She sighed, "But your father only wants one apprentice at a time, and they insist on working together…"
"I mean, yeah. They've always been that way." He shrugged and chuckled, watching Sapphire take her plate around to the sink and standing to finish his toast in two quick bites, heading to rinse them both off. "Maybe run it by dad and the brats later? They listen to you more than me."
"The twins, or your father?"
"Yes." He chuckled, turning to leave and stopping to grab his simple Militia-rifle off the wall. Checking the simple, old-fashioned semi-auto's five round magazine, he asked, "Did dad check the barrel alignment like I asked?"
"He said it was off by a hair and tweaked it for you." His mom answered, "It was no trouble."
"Got it." He nodded, slinging it over a shoulder he waved as he slipped out the door, holding it for his tiny sister to bounce out after him.
Ansel was a relatively small, old mining settlement spread out along the upper third or so of Mount Ansel, where its name came from. It was made of ten terraces, with solid brickwork fronts and paved roads at the ends connecting them, covered in a chaotic smattering of storage houses, smelteries, and mines and the infrastructure around them to pull rock and ore up, sort it properly, and send both where they needed to go. The copper and iron had obvious uses in Vale but the stone went, too, ground up into gravel for paving support or to keep vegetation back around forest outposts throughout the Kingdom. The terraces themselves were huge, and ran down most of the mountain until they ended in a stretch of bare, craggy rock that stretched down for a half-mile. Then there were fields, mostly rye and emmer, mixed in all the way out to the eighty foot tall wall that ran out from Mount Anor and Mount Relic to either side, curving in front of the settlement protectively and dotted by old parapets retrofitted with shelters from which tall listening antennae rose, dotted by dishes.
His family lived near the top, just under the Militia Fort built at the apex of the mountain where it could overlook every direction with its own, larger sound-catching and signal receiving dish mounted on the roof of what looked like an observatory.
As always, he found his gaze tugged to the side, looking up the wide, rocky road to Mount Relic, where even now you could see the ancient, corroded skeleton of the half or so of the Sky-Ship that had broken against it centuries ago. It had been stripped clean years ago, of course, but the skeleton alone filled him with… Something that was a weird mix of awe and anxiety.
It was the same one he got looking at the night sky…
And wondering where the rest of Mount Relic's ship had gone.
"Jaune…?" He looked down at Sapphire's suddenly confused face and she asked, "W'as wrong?"
"Nothing." He smiled, turning and putting his pack onto the back of the quad the Militia had given him for his work. It came with a holster along the front, just behind the headlights, that he slid his rifle into before leaning back and offering Sapphire a seat on his lap. Turning the engine on, he said, "Now remember-"
"Hold on tight and be ready for bumps!" She nodded, fist grabbing at his shirt and one tiny arm wrapping around him. "I know."
The ride down to the wall was, as usual, a quick one. The roads were built with Mobile Suits in mind, with space for one to walk without hitting the buildings, so that left plenty of space for the freight trucks coming and going and service vehicles - like his - to run down the middle. Back when he'd started, running between the huge freight trucks had been… Kind of terrifying, honestly. But by now he was used to them, and the drivers recognized him, slowing to let him cross turning zones and waving as he went. That was one thing he didn't mind the lower pay on his job for-
Everyone on Mount Ansel knew who he was, and what he did, and were grateful.
As they neared the wall, wandering between fields of grain that rustled in the late summer air, the huge main gatehouse came into view. It had a pretty big building built on top of it, where the Militia's forward monitoring teams and lookouts worked. It was flat-topped, with a small silver airship parked on it for fast recon whenever needed, but other than that didn't have much aside from a pair of machine-gun nests at either corner, to ward off Grimm.
Or, well, to help the pair of Mobile Suits standing to either side of the gatehouse behind the wall.
Each of the MS units were standard Militia models, with long segments of two-piece armor bolted around their endo-frame internals. The armor was relatively light, made of smooth lengths of steel alloy, and easily replaced. They had simple brackets of even lighter armor around their joints, and a raised collar around the backs and sides of their necks. Each held a simple tower shield, with Vale's logo painted on the front, that had seen years of service, covered in nicks and claw-marks from hundreds of Grimm skirmishes. Light gatling cannons the length of Jaune's body sprouted from their shield-side shoulders, and each carried a long-pistol that fired bursts of small, explosive rounds perfect for wiping out crowds of Grimm.
As he approached the closed gate, one turned its flat, featureless face towards him, its T-Visor lighting up in red as it processed him and relayed the information to the pilot inside. A second later, the pilot chirped, "Jaune! It's good to see you."
"You too, Ronnie." He smiled, pulling to a stop as it turned its huge foot and knelt so she could hear him better.
"Hiiii!" Sapphire called from her spot in his lap, waving eagerly as he leaned back and the Militia MS leaned its shield against its shoulder.
"I see you have the smurf with you today, too." She chuckled, "But you missed rotation-swap."
"I figured." He sighed, well aware of the pout Sapphire turned to give him. Patting her head, he asked, "Why are you already standing, though? Should be half an hour and some change left. Did something happen?"
"I wanted to see all of 'em…"
"Reinhardt and Annie went out for forward-surveying." Ronnie answered quietly - at least as quietly as the huge speakers behind the mask of the MS could be. "Several of the outermost monitoring systems went down. Entirely. And three of the next row's did, too. We're hoping it's just some Grimm, Ursa maybe, so we just sent First Shields while we came on early. Means a fourteen hour, but…"
"You have your Scroll running a podcast, don't you?"
"And plenty to drink." She chuckled, "Plus, next day off. Every other day sucks, but…"
"Such is life." He nodded, thinking for a second and then smiling before he asked, "Hey, since you have time and I have you here…"
"What's up?"
"Mind if we run my sis here through an Emergency Lift manuever?" He asked, gesturing at a wide, flat dirt lot about twenty feet away. "I gotta park, but Militia Command wants me to check the wall sensors first thing."
"Let me run it by MC really quick." She answered, going quiet for a few moments while Jaune turned and rolled over to a shady spot to park behind the wall. He had just hung his rifle off his shoulder when he felt the tremorous steps and turned to look up at the Militia unit kneeling again, her handgun mag-locked onto her thigh so she could lay her hand on the ground, palm up. "Come on, then. You know the drill, right Tater-Tot?"
"Mhm!" She nodded, grabbing the square palm at the edge and pulling herself up. It was about stomach the height of her chest, but she had always been a climber and managed to roll onto the palm while Jaune pulled himself up.
"Now," Jaune asked, standing on the palm, "what do we do?"
"Get on your knees so you don't end up on your back!" She nodded, rolling over and tucking her knees under herself, "And make sure nothin' is hanging to go smack!"
"Good." He chuckled, kneeling and pulling his rifle around to lay it on the palm where it wouldn't swing. Satisfied they were both ready, he gave Ronnie a thumbs up and then circled a finger in standard emergency service signal-sign for, 'Okay, let's go.'
"Elevator, going up." Ronnie said, standing slowly and raising the MS' hand as she went, turning and resting it on the old, cracked wall. "Now arriving - sensors and a nice view. Please leave a tip."
"What's a tip…?"
"Something you leave waiters when you go out to eat. It's more common in the cities, though, for… Whatever reason." Jaune explained, stepping off and landing with a grunt. He turned to offer Sapphire a hand, but she was already on her stomach, turning to hang her legs off so she could drop off, too. Smiling, he said, "Ten points on the dismount, Tater Tot."
"Yay!" She smiled, "Does that mean I get candy?"
"If you do your work right," he smiled, "I'll bring you a bag home tonight when I get done."
"Yay!"
Each wall-sensor was larger that the woodland ones, for what were mostly obvious reasons given it was on the wall and not just stuck in a tree or something.
They each had a small, rectangular workroom with rows of storage for tools and parts across from a wide control and monitoring station. Each station had three screens, one of which displayed its status and signal quality in the center, which Jaune first. While he did, he let Sapphire count how many of the out-lying towers were reading green and how many were reading orange on the monitor to the right. Red was an option, too, but red meant tampered with - and he didn't want to consider that a real option until something forced him to.
Only a few minutes passed before Sapphire chirped, "Done!"
"And the count?"
"All green!" She answered, "No orangies."
"What?" His brows furrowed as he looked up and turned, checking her monitor to confirm. And then checking its connection to make sure it was reading properly, which it seemed to be. He hopped onto the third, which monitored the data-stream being received and processed by the computers ensconced into the wall above it all, and the pylon that rose from the roof, and that read green as well.
"Impossible…" He murmured, "Yesterday six were orange… It's why I'm heading out- And the Militia mobilised their Mobile Suits and sent them out, too, so it should be worse not better."
"Jaune…?"
"Come on." He grunted, "We need to check the others computers. Maybe… Maybe this one is just on the fritz."
All of them read the same, by the end of the hour it took to thoroughly check them over and run a systems diagnostic. Not similar, either, like normal. The exact same. Which was impossible in such a broad system, where incidentally overlapping units, foliage growth, and simple latency over range would cause disruption to the network.
Hands trembling, he turned and rushed out of the room, waving to get Ronnie's attention. When she turned to him, he asked, "You called into Ansel's Militia commander earlier, right?"
"No…" She answered, "I asked forward-comm, out here. Why?"
"Can you raise him?"
"Why, what's-"
"Ronnie, can you raise him?!"
A few moments passed in silence before she answered, voice somehow a whisper even through the MS' speakers, "No… No one is answering."
"Shit…"
"Jaune," Sapphire muttered, hanging onto his leg now, "that's a bad word…"
"I-I know, Tater-Tot, but…" Taking a breath he called out to the MS as it turned, looking up at the settlement, "Ronnie!"
"Yeah?"
"Take Sapphire and get to Ansel. Run up to command and warn them of a potential attack before-" Distant gunfire cut him off, and Jaune turned as smoke filled the sky. Swearing again, he turned and said, "Tell them we're under attack, Ronnie!"
"But I have to-"
"Please, I need get out there and find the source of the problem!" Jaune shouted back, voice cracking as he grabbed Sapphire and picked her up, holding her out in spite of her questions and burgeoning tears. "Get her safe, tell command what's happening, and hopefully I can get the comm-lines restored so we can get help!"
A few moments passed before the MS turned and knelt, the cockpit opening to reveal a woman about twenty in a fitted black and white jumpsuit. Ronnie bridged the space with her MS' hand and she stepped out, taking Sapphire who wriggled and turned, reaching for him.
"Jaune!"
"I'll be fine." He smiled, turning and shooting her a little mock salute, "I just gotta zip out, fix something, and get home. No big deal. I promise."
He could tell she wanted to say something, but she vanished behind the armored front of the MS torso-cockpit. He watched it turn and run off, each step crossing ten or eleven feet, as the other came and offered its hand. Jaune hopped into it and hopped off just as fast as it knelt, dropping him off on his quad and waiting while he spun it up and turned, roaring out the main gate with the Mobile Suit close behind to protect him as best it could.
Behind him, he heard the light strike-ship roar up into the air, scattering flares in a panic signal Ronnie would explain but that set alarms roaring across Ansel. Above him, Jaune heard distant screeches amid the echoing siren, the engine underneath him, and the Militia unit's thundering steps behind him. He didn't want to look, fear flooding his veins in ice, but he forced himself.
Black, winged shapes filled the sky a mile out, already coming towards Ansel - the first of many, he was sure.
"Grimm…"
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Blake carefully extracted the sensitive, brittle control chip from the pylon mounted at the apex of the old oak, bolted into its very wood, and slid it into the hard-case on her back to join the other eight she'd extracted over the last hour. Clicking it closed she turned and leapt onto the outstretched palm of her waiting Mobile Suit, running along the arm and leaping onto the open lip of the cockpit. She slotted the hardcase into one of the dozen or so welded-on slots where her spare clothes, sleeping bag, food and water were all kept.
"Blake?"
"I'm fine, Illia." She answered quietly, shrugging off the loose robes she wore over her black and white outfit and flicking the 'standby' switch off on her pilfered Militia MS. The cockpit slid closed and her machine shuddered as worn servos stood her up and she pulled on her helmet, grimacing at the tightness around her ears. Retrieving her sword she turned to survey the other two black-and-white painted Militia Mobile Suits and said, "The control chips are intact and stored. We should go, before-"
"Blake!" Ilia shouted, raising her shield as two rounds slammed into it and exploded harmlessly.
Blake spun as two Militia Mobile Suits, in proper order, rushed towards the three of them. Swearing under her breath, she raised the long machete and brought her own shield around, backing away and bringing the sword down as they slowed and turned, spreading out to flank them. No doubt banking on their lack of ranged weapons to beat them down. Which wasn't a poor strategy, Blake supposed as she and the other two pressed in close, using their shields for cover and kneeling in the forest.
"What do we do?" Illia asked, panic threading into her voice.
"You two, run." Their third, and their commander, answered quietly as he pushed away from them, rushing the nearest Militia unit with his shield raised and a hand reaching for the bolt-on holster he'd fitted there.
The enemy MS unit backed up a step and lowered its shield a hair, spinning up its shoulder mounted gun. Hardened, armor-tipped rounds ripped into their commander's shield plating as he advanced and drew the long, blocky rod from his shield and hit the ignition switch. Too late, the enemy MS realised what he had and brought its shield up, backpedaling.
Banesaw's plasma-saw burned through its shield as it went, cleaving it in two in a flash of violet plasma igniting paint and air in a vibrant explosion.
"Reinhardt!" The other unit called out over open-speaker as Banesaw followed the enemy unit, hurling his shield into its legs and taking the plasma-cutter in both hands.
The woman tried to rush them as Blake and Illia took their chance to turn and run, missing them by mere yards, but Blake couldn't just leave her commander behind and turned. Her worn and battered unit would never catch up to it, though, and she knew it. Instead, she planted a foot and piloted at the waist, hurling her sword with all the force she could muster. The enemy unit detected the contact flying at her, the improvised machete was too small not to pop on sensors, and turned to catch it with their shield. But it was too slow, and her machete slammed into its shoulder, crushing the light armor and jamming the joint up with scrap metal and sheer weight that pitched the machine onto its back, its shoulder-gun spraying auto-fire into the air.
Smaller motion caught on her sensors and she turned, lashing out with a fist that crush a pair of Nevermore circling her.
"Banesaw!" She called as she turned, running to catch up with Illia, "Grimm! Disable them and come on!"
An explosion behind her washed her sensors in static and heat and Blake grimaced as his voice echoed over the line, "One dead, one fighting. Go, I'll follow when I'm sure we won't be pursued."
"Alright…" She nodded, "Be safe."
"Always."
She frowned and severed the line to prevent traces, muttering under her breath, "So much for a quick part raid…"
And so much for a bloodless one, too… Damn it, Adam.
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Every single one of Ansel's monitoring relay pylons had to be put up as high as they could be, to better spread out the detection and avoid interference from animals, bushes, and even just the natural contours of the land. And since Relic and Anor curved out and away from the carved-in settlement on Ansel, the obvious advantage of the high ground had made itself known. The mountains had thick forests, too, with a handful of maintained paths that switch-backed up in a dozen places split between the two mountains starting a few miles out and ending in moderately more open spots along the cliff-side, where they were embedded in rocks or on top of trees like they were below, casting a wide, if a bit weak, envelope over the forest that the rest used for a baseline in the relay network nowadays. But, originally, Jaune knew they'd hoped the high ground and its obvious advantages would let the dozen primary relays handle all of the work as a cheaper alternative to the eventual modern solution.
And Jaune knew the baselines they maintained, and their positioning, meant that a variety of jamming systems would work well off of the same principles.
The first two on Relic hadn't had any tampering, but there was one more, and he sped up the dirty mountain path on his quad with hands so tight on the handles they ached. "Come on, come on… I know I don't go to temple, like, at all, but if you're out there, Gods, give me something…"
If they existed, they didn't answer him.
He found the last of the Relic prime pylons undisturbed entirely, but accessing its control module gave him an uninterrupted feed from the transmitters - and the twenty or so that were reading red, which meant they'd been tampered with. Another eight read blue, though, and that was even more worrying - that meant they'd been offlined entirely, and with the passive systems they all had, the only way to take them all offline was to destroy them.
Turning, Jaune could see an MS explode, lighting up the forest, and knew what had done it…
"Jaune, heads up!" His bodyguard warned from a few yards away where it was kneeling in the tree. Standing, the Mobile Suit turned, barking burst of automatic fire out towards the south. Jaune turned, watching Gryphons topple and spin towards the ground, trailing black smoke and ichor, and frowned as his guard said, "I need to get down there and help - we just lost a second Mobile Suit."
"A second?" He hissed, frowning, "The first unit?"
"Yeah."
"Damn it…" He could still hear gunfire, though, and that told him Ronnie had already gone back out to join her comrades in the fighting. Turning his Quad he said, "Go! I'll check Arnor."
"But you-"
"Will die anyway if all our Mobile Suits are destroyed when the Grimm get here." He argued, going over the sensor readings again to look for something he could use. Shaking his head, he slapped the side of his tablet and growled, "Damn it! Why can't I find the system error? How are they doing this?"
"Can't you just reset it?" His bodyguard asked, stepping closer and turning, shoulder-gun opening fire in quick bursts of rattling fire. Jaune turned, following the arcing shots to where a group of Gryphons were falling away, trailing smoke.
And backed up by dozens more heading straight at them…
"Shit…" He snarled, reaching for the connector and shaking his head. "If only this was just my game… Turning it off and on again always works."
Then, something struck him and he blinked slowly, fingers on the connection port. Turning back to his console, he punched in his code again and added '_PowerSystemAccess'. To his surprise, it brought up what he'd hoped to find - power control over the listening pylons all along Relic and this side of the forest. And only a few of the destroyed units were on this side of the forest, which was something he hadn't noticed before. Which meant that whatever bypass they had running to keep Vale from being alerted of their status, or them from calling out, was only on this side. And while one or two offline pylons wouldn't worry anyone…
Half of them would.
"Get to Ansel!" He barked over his shoulder, "Tell them I'm taking half the monitoring system offline."
"What?" The pilot asked, shouting so loudly his speakers crackled, "Why would you do something like-"
"Just go, alright?" He ordered, turning and pointing back the way they'd come. "I'll follow you down in two or three minutes."
"Then why don't I wait-"
"Because there's Grimm headed towards Ansel!" He argued, temper flaring for a hot moment before he could catch it. Swinging out an arm, he gestured at the black shapes moving over the forest towards the mountain town. "Without someone there, who will protect the town?"
The pilot hesitated, but only for a moment, before he sighed and turned, running off as fast as the Militia unit could go. Jaune watched him go, for a few moments, as his legs vanished into the trees. When his waist joined them, he forced himself to turn back to his tablet and got to work.
Technically speaking, he only had authority to check the power levels and information from the primary pylons. He wasn't meant to be able to access the controls, especially not remotely to get at the other two further back along Relic's rolling side. But he'd paid attention in his classes, and knew the emergency codes needed to demand emergency access. Putting them in granted him access to direct control of most of each of the primary's power systems, but still not the authority to take them off-line entirely. But he had another trick for that, something he'd been warned against repeatedly in class.
"Here's hoping that the 'hypothetical' overload risk is a little more truth than fiction…" He muttered, dropping the power to minimal levels and then spiking them up again. Over and over again, he threw the power up and down, watching error and warning messages scroll across the top of his tablet for nearly ten minutes.
"Come on…" He muttered, "Come on, damn it…"
Finally, distantly, he heard a bang. Followed by another, just a bit closer, less than a minute later. He had just long enough to recognize the sound, blink, and stand before the primary pylon he was standing beside at the cliff's edge went off in a spray of sparks, metal and smoke. He stumbled away, hacking on smoke, but the final unit wasn't done yet. The power overload had been a cascading one, running up the line to the final unit, and with nowhere to go all the excess power, instability and general chaos he'd caused played havoc with the emergency systems and lit a fire.
A fire that caught the Dust power source inside, meant for emergency outages, before Jaune had the time to even catch his breath.
Fire and shrapnel sprayed across his back and side as he was thrown away, head spinning, and the ground under him gave way. The cliff was a short one, only a dozen feet or so, but Jaune cried out as he hit the slop beneath and started to roll, surrounded by dirt, rock and a couple trees that had joined him along with his quad. He tucked his head against his chest and tried to curl up, like he'd been taught in case of landslides, but every time he hit the ground he was sent flailing back up, through bushes and between tree limbs.
He finally came to a stop a hundred feet down, covered in scrapes and bruises and his side throbbing where shrapnel had managed to get through his padded service jacket and cut him.
"Well…" He groaned, rolling over and spitting out what came out as more blood than spit. He spat again, and a tooth joined the mess on the floor as he groaned, "That was fun…"
He forced himself to stand, though, and padded over to the wreck that had been his quad only a few minutes prior. Grabbing his bent rifle, he sighed and shook his head. Then a smell caught him and he frowned, head still throbbing and eyes watering from the smoke. It smelled like…
Burning lemon.
"Shit!" He shouted, turning and trying to run as the Dust in his quad's engine started to spark. He managed to get behind a tree that had come down with them, jumping over it and curling up on the ground, just before it went off, too.
And then, ears ringing, he felt the round tremble…
"Oh no…" He muttered, pushing himself up on his aching arms and legs, "No, no, no… That's not fai-"
The ground gave way with the sound of screaming metal and falling dirt and rocks, and Jaune tumbled, falling another ten feet and slamming into hard metal. This time, he felt a rib break and hissed, sucking in labored breaths and squeezing his eyes against fresh tears. Rolling onto the other side, he sucked in short, fast breaths and forced himself to stand and check himself for any other injuries. A few new cuts and bruises were all he found, and he counted himself lucky for that, turning to look around.
He found himself in what had obviously been a Mobile Suit bay, only… Upside down, now, with the ensconced workbays above him surrounded by what was left of the catwalks and terminals and the side he was on mostly crushed into a mess of metal, wires and dirt that had spilled through. To his surprise, some of the terminals sparked intermittently with power and, when he looked down, a few of the panel-lights along what had been the ceiling did the same. At least, wherever the wrecks of two Mobile Suits, the walkways, storage crates, and the everything else that had come down in the crash hadn't crushed them. Even the doors out blinked with light orange lights, nearly a hundred feet up on the other, uncrushed side.
"Well…" He muttered, "Maybe your luck isn't that bad…"
Finding even part of a ship was a big deal, and would set his family up for years. One with power, though? Even intermittently? That would put his sisters through college, forget the Apprentice programs. He'd live in Vale, in a nice apartment, and get work for the administrative network there, overseeing monitoring of every village in the Kingdom after his new apprenticeship training was done.
"Maybe Beacon would even take me…" He murmured, feeling a smile start to tug at his lips, "Working for Beacon…"
It wasn't piloting, but it'd be enough.
In the darkness cast by the long moments the lights blinked off, Jaune caught a light out of the corner of his eye. Something that was barely there, like a shadow flitting away from the corner of his vision. Turning, he squinted as the lights came on and, moments later, went out. In the back corner was something buried, white light flickering on and off slowly every few seconds from under a mound of dirt, ruined metal and thick cabling. Cabling that sparked in a few spots along its length, and that a quiet voice from his studies told him was probably the primary power system, barely functioning on whatever was left after so incredibly long.
But a louder voice - his own, he realised - breathed out a quiet, "Not a damn chance…"
Navigating the room to get towards the light was a tricky game. Mounds of rubble, ruined storage crates, and dirt and rock had covered most of it, and Jaune spent a lot of time trying to climb without hurting his ribs any more than he already had. Or, probably worse, cutting himself of metal that was more rust at this point than metal. Or twisting an ankle as the ceiling underfoot gave way, too old and worn to hold up under his weight. None of which was helped by the fact he could only see where the light was when the lights were off, and keeping his heading in the mess otherwise was…
Well, fun was a word for it.
Finally, though, Jaune scrambled up a mound of dirt and turned, sliding down as the light blinked off. He slipped on the landing and landed on his rear with a thump that echoed. But not around him.
It echoed under him…
When the lights blinked on, he was almost blinded. But he could see the silhouette they made out under him. A gently angled, smooth white surface specked by dirt and spots of rust rested under him, with a simple handle nearly buried in one corner and, in its center, a symbol he'd seen a thousand times in books, movies, and on television.
A faded yellowish star, with a crescent underneath.
"A mobile suit…" He muttered, heart beating so fast in his chest that it made his broken rib burn even more. "And it's working. Impossible…"
Forget working for Beacon - selling this would let him open a wing in Beacon in his name, and still live well enough for the rest of his life.
He pulled the lever on the side but it caught halfway. Grimacing, he knelt and pulled harder, groaning and gritting his teeth against pain that burned along his flank. But he had to know. Every kid on Remnant grew up fantasising about finding a Relic Mobile Suit. It took some work, but Jaune could feel the release handle slowly grinding through the rust and dirt build-up until, finally, he felt it give and fell back into the dirt he'd slid down to get to it. Groaning, he clutched his side and sucked in pained breaths.
But the hissing of a pressurised container opening, and a dull blue light, drew his attention away from the pain quickly enough.
Leaning over, he found a dimly lit Mobile Suit cockpit that was… Shockingly ordinary, for the most part. A seat occupied its heart, surrounded on either side by the typical curved armrests adopted by Remnant after studying the old relics. But, unlike any of the ones he'd ever seen, these armrests were very nearly barren. Only the right had any keys - and even then, only two. One on either side of the right-hand control stick, and none on the left. The seat was just as plain, curving up more comfortable than most he'd seen. And the walls were empty, aside from a single viewscreen he found on the inside of the segment that had raised up to allow access. The weirdest part, though, was the helmet sitting in the seat…
Connected to a little lump in the ceiling right above it by a thick, banded cable.
"What the hell…" He murmured, before a loud crash echoed across the empty space behind him.
He turned, blinking in the darkness as the lights winked out, but couldn't see anything in the rough patch of light from where he'd busted through. Still, he heard dirt and debris shift and felt his heart race. Above him, the ship shuddered and he saw specks of light break through where dirt and metal fell away. Slowly, he turned and stood, reaching for a rifle he didn't have anymore before he swore under his breath.
And the lights came back on…
The Grimm was twenty feet away, maybe, and five feet long. It had two powerful hind legs and a maw as big as its chest, with two rows of jagged, broken white teeth. He blinked and turned as metal and dirt fell away off to his side and three more fell in, rolling and kicking and snarling as they pulled themselves up and shook the debris off. And all of them had eyes they turned on him, bright scarlet and filled with a kind of hate Jaune had never seen…
"Oh, shit…" He turned at the same moment they rushed towards him, dropping into the sideways cockpit and nearly fell before he caught himself on the back of the chair and turned, reaching up to grab at one of the many handles on the inside of the door, pulling it slowly against the same grinding rust and dirt he'd fought to open it.
"Come on!" He shouted as the snarling and scrambling got closer to him, "Come on, you damn- Agh!"
He cried out as, suddenly, the door slammed shut and he was thrown against the chair at an angle that made his ribs ache and forced every ounce of breath out of his chest. For a few long moments, all he could do was lay on his side, curled up and fighting for breath while the Grimm outside clawed at worn, ancient plating, ripping at it with screaming shrieks of bone on metal. But the armor held and, after a few moments, the stars began to clear from his eyes and he caught his breath, laying in the chair, covered in adrenaline and pain driven sweat.
"I'm glad I found you…" He muttered, "I need a vacation after this."
But first, he had to get out - and how to do that was a question.
Sitting up and moving the helmet to let it clatter against the wall behind him, he muttered to himself, "Two switches, so one has to be power. All I need is a little, so…" He flicked one of the switches and the entire cockpit lit up in a pale blue, white lights along the top and bottoms blinking on in a slow, lazy pattern as the terminal in front of him lit up. "Let's go!"
The Grimm outside slammed into the hull so hard the lights flickered.
"Okay, uh, Militia studies, militia studies, just follow the prompts…" Which, he discovered as they flickered onto the screen, written in flowing lines that ran from top to bottom in close symbols set in long rows, he couldn't read. He jerked at the control sticks, trying to make something happen, and snarled, "Damn it, how am I supposed to- Star-Talk is a college course, damn it!"
Almost instantly, the screen changed - this time to an image of a pilot pulling the helmet on and easing back into the chair, blinking back to the start quickly like the obvious tutorial it was.
"Sure." He grunted, easing onto the seat and dragging the helmet up by the cable. "Put on the ancient, dusty helmet you found in the woods. Why not?"
The helmet slid on smelling of old, somehow decayed sterile cleaning solutions, and rested around his head comfortably, with padding that expanded gently when it settled onto his head. As if it knew, somehow, that it was time for it to do its job. It was perfectly round, with a glass visor that ran down past his nose and curled around his cheeks that lit up at the same time the padding finally settled around his head-
And something sharp stung at the base of his head, making him snarl a, "Fuck! What the hell?"
As if in answer, just as he reached to take the helmet off, the screen lit up in a bright green and then faded to black as the lights dimmed around him. A little white square appeared in the upper corner, blinking like a text chat waiting for someone to type into it, before words began to scroll across the screen.
"Welcome, Pilot." It read, "Mobile Suit : Gundam : Crocea Mors. Status : Igniting."
"I can… Read it?" He muttered to himself, before the screen blinked away and numbers flew across it. "Wait, Gundam?!"
"Pilot Status : Injured." The new words read, ignoring him entirely and instead displaying a readout of a human body, laid out like a medical manual. Orange lit up along his ankles and calves, and a dark blue dotted his body, but the most distressing were the highlights around two of his ribs, flashing red. "Two severe fractures detected. Recommend stillness and evacuation."
"Yeah," he grunted, "just as soon as I get out of this hole."
"Mission Parameters updated." The screen read along the top, the words copying themselves onto his borrowed visor in the same moment. "Objective : Evacuate from hostile area. Preparing combat systems."
He blinked and, in that moment, the world went dark. And stayed that way for a few long seconds, before pinpricks of light broke through around him. He blinked again, confused, and tried to look around. Which managed to spread the pinpricks of light into wider stretches. Before a bony snout muscled in against his face and jerked away, letting him stare the Creep down face to face. Their eyes met and he barely processed how small it was before the beast snarled and turned, baring its fangs at him.
Screaming, Jaune shot up and felt stinging pain across the front of his chest finally registering as dirt, rock and steel fell away from his…
Chest?
"What the- Agh!" He shouted as one of the Grimm bit into his side, ripping at the armor plating her saw there until his hand came down and crushed it. "What is happening?!"
"Direct Neural Link : Established." Scrolled across the top of his screen, "Advisory : Numerous weapons, offline. Numerous Additionals : Absent. Tracking : Guardian Spear. Displaying currently available weaponry."
The now six Grimm lit up in red as he - or the Gundam, apparently, that was one of several things he was wrapping his head around - rose to rest on a knee and they circled. It was still dark but, as he stood, the roof shattered around him and fell in a shower of metal, dirt and bushes from above. Two of the red circles blinked out as all the debris came down, but the rest dodged and weaved. Apparently, the Gundam was tracking them even through the dirt coming down. More importantly, a display lit up on the side of his HUD showing four stubby machine guns set around a circle. Three were red, but one was working and, equally importantly, 'Guardian Spear' appeared a few feet - or, well, yards, actually, but his sense of scale was having issues - over a bit of dirt with a silver outline underneath.
He turned and took a step before pain flared along the back of his calf and he turned, looking down where a Creep was trying to bite through a rusted patch of armor.
"Why," he demanded, kicking with a foot and turning his head to gun down a second Creep as it tried to climb the wall, "can I feel that?!"
"The Neural Link enables multiple traffic avenues in order to-"
"I didn't ask!" He snapped, looking away from the words as they blinked out.
The Creep died as it smashed against a wall and he stomped forward on another as it tried to slip between his legs. The final one had only just managed to extract itself from a mound of soil that had buried it when he plunged a fist down, annihilating it in a spray of dark fluids and vapor. Taking another step, he knelt and plunged his metal hands through the dirt to grab the shaft of the highlighted weapon.
When he drew it from the rock, he was surprised by how… Pristine it looked, in spite of its storage.
The haft was long and pale white, with a bronze-yellow spike at the end the size of Jaune's chest for a counter-weight. The head was long and straight, with a diamond shaped blade ending in a wide, circular blade-guard. A simple round module was embedded in the precise center of the blade that Crocea Mors projected as a 'Plasma Battery', but it was dead. Dead and damaged.
Still it was a weapon…
And right now, Ansel needed a protector. Not a technician.
"Well," he sighed, standing and grabbing at the soil around the hole he'd made in the forest floor, pulling himself up to stand above the treeline, "since you can answer questions… Are there any, uh, Mobile Suits active in the area?"
Several icons popped up on his head, with distances next to their names. Two were almost a kilometer out of even the sensor-net Ansel deployed and continuing on at a decent pace. But two were right next to each other, and only a couple miles away from him. Both had the same reading, though, so he hoped they were both Militia units…
Still, he took off at all speed, doing his best to ignore the smoke trails coming from Ansel's wall that his Gundam picked out.
XxX-XxX-XxX
Banesaw let the enemy Mobile Suit fall onto its back and kicked the smoldering, freshly removed legs away as he stepped around it, holding his plasma-cutter in his one remaining good hand. His other hung by a few cables attached to the ruined third or so of his forearm, which he ejected with a frown. It thudded to the ground beside the Militia Mobile suit as he raised the cutter over the enemy cockpit and held it there, whirring it to full power for a mercifully powerful thrust.
"You fought well." He rumbled, "Who are you?"
"Militia Private Ronnie Red." The voice answer, crackling out of the speaker left on the side of its head that wasn't crushed scrap. "Not that I need a terrorist's respects…"
"You have them regardless." He answered simply, pulling his cutter down on the cockpit-
Just as another motion caught on his radar, broadcasting a signal his MS's targeting system didn't recognize and hurtling at him at speeds exceeding what even a Mobile Suit could manage. Even with the warning, he only just managed to turn and step back, throwing most of the momentum of the impact off and hurling the enemy attacker away by virtue of its own momentum. He watched it roll through the trees and took a step back, holding his plasma cutter out to the side as the smoke began to clear.
The enemy machine he realised swiftly, was not a Militia variant.
It was old, pitted in places by claw marks, rust and covered across the board in dirt that did little to hide the white paint and gold accenting that covered most of the mech. Unlike the Militia MS units, it was also heavily armored, with a blocky chest surrounding the cockpit's ensconced, vaguely oval, form. Square hip armor was bolted onto its waist and hung around sturdy looking joints he could barely see even with it kneeling, well-protected under the armor on its waist. Rectangular shoulders stuck out to either side over the shoulder joints, rotating with them which meant they were assembled together, and its arms and legs were more or less rectangular, enclosed entirely by blocky armor witb triangular protrusions along the outside facing portions of the joints.
More interesting was it's propulsion system. His HUD read a dozen powerful micro-thrusters up its spine and two in each heel - which explained its incredible speed.
More worrying, however, was the head. Unlike Militia units its head was designed as if wearing a more classical helmet, protruding a bit on all sides but the face around the neck and over its forehead in the front. A faceplate covered where its lips would have been, for a human, but its eyes were divided and sloped, with four small barrels barely protruding just under them and to the side, two to each side of the mask. More like a person's than the wider visor-sensor package his Mobile Suit used. And, finally, was the mark he and every other man, woman and child had seen in history books across their lives-
A golden chevron resting on its brow.
His machine finally translated the signal just in time for him to murmur what it told him, "Gundam…"
"Ronnie!" It broadcast from its speakers, "Are you okay?"
"Jaune, you need to run!" The enemy pilot answered, "This guy is-"
He silenced her with a quick turn and thrust, melting the cockpit to slag with far less kindness and honor than he'd intended. But as much as he could afford, looking at the spear the new enemy held in its hands. The new pilot screamed something incoherent, and Banesaw took that moment to take note of two dozen more long-range signatures in the sky. Not Mobile Suits, though.
These were airships…
"It is time then." He hummed, "Come, Gundam."
The enemy pilot screamed and charged him.
The thrust was sloppy and uncoordinated, but fast enough that Banesaw's machine struggled to get away. His saw came around from the right, aiming for the Gundam's midsection, but the pilot fired the thrusts in its feet and leapt over the attack. Instead of turning to try for a thrust, though, it brought a leg up in an 'L' shape and fired the thruster again at the same time it bent down and fired the ones along its spine, pursuing him and spinning with a rocket's strength at the same time.
He turned and caught the attack on the useless left arm, whose remains exploded around the more heavily armored knee spectacularly, but all that did was blunt an attack that sent him stumbling away regardless. His machine, whose knee servos had already been damaged before the second battle, against Ronnie, wasn't able to keep up with the enemy unit as it landed a few yards to his side and turned, charging into his chest with its shoulder. Armor screamed as it was crushed, and several of his viewscreens cracked as armor warped around the blow. Still he brought a knee up, destroying it on the Gundam's chest in an attempt to strike at its cockpit.
The blow drove the Gundam back, where it stumbled, the lights in its eyes winking out and shifting from blue to red in a sign of power failure that almost, almost, gave him hope.
Before his ruined leg gave out and he sank to a knee, looking up as the enemy's thrusters fired again, some leaking smoke, as its lance came in. Roaring his defiance, Banesaw lashed out with his plasma cutter, aiming for its face. He even managed to hit it, burning through some of the relatively lighter armor of its helmet as the pilot screamed again and buried the long blade of his spear in Banesaw's cockpit, carving away his legs and rupturing his units energy system.
As the spear withdrew, the man screamed, clutching the side of his Gundam's head with a hand as he staggered away, tripped and sank to a knee. Its lights flickered on and off rapidly before, finally, the oh so legendary Gundam simply collapsed onto its side and its lights died out.
Banesaw had just enough time to murmur, "Strange…"
Before his core went off, blasting what was left of his arms aside as fire reduced the upper portions of his Mobile Suit to slag.
XxX-XxX-XxX
Jaune's Gundam, Crocea Mors, is a very 'Federal' design, if you follow me. Simple, rugged looking, and sturdy. It's one of my favored designs. I've always preferred more human designs, honestly. Its fitted, currently, with a spear specialised in cutting through armor - particularly with its plasma, which Banesaw actually demonstrates in this - as well as four heavy machine guns fitted around its mask, two to each side. I already have its standard complement sorted, for the most part, if this continues.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed!
XxX-XxX-XxX