C4-621, that was his name, no that was his designation. Fourth generation serial designation 621, with 620 other people coming before him.
His purpose?
He did not know, not truly. At first, he supposed it was out of duty, in honor of the hounds that came before him, namely 617, 619, and 620. The hounds that Handler Walter would talk about the most to him, of their final mission and sacrifice.
It didn't take long since his conception as 621 that his purpose had changed. He believed that what he fought for was right, that he was doing justice to his predecessors, but in truth, he had lied to even himself. He fought under the self-induced illusion of camaraderie between people he had never met. Thankfully for his sake and the other "hounds" as they have been called, that farce had quickly come to an end.
What he fought for was simple, but it was in that simplicity that he found purpose. He was Handler Walters' tool, his instrument of war, and he would live and die for his mission just like the others had.
And to be truthful, he had always been fine with that, after all, what did someone without a past, without a family, without feelings need to live for? So he was content to live the rest of his life as 621, the loyal hound to a man he barely even knew because then he at least had a purpose to this life.
Or so that was what he thought before he arrived at Rubicon 3.
It was a strange change of pace to get rid of his name as 621 regardless of how temporary it was. Still, he would do as he was ordered, he would kill under the stolen identity of a mercenary called Raven and play the role of a mercenary fighting in a war of corporations in the name of money, occasionally following Handler Walter's hidden mission from a "friend" which brought them here in the first place.
Surprisingly enough, it would be under this false name that he would give himself the foundations of an identity to call his own, even earning himself a reputation among the corporations as a man who would get the job done regardless of the mission or any ties.
But if he were to think back on it, he almost wished that they had never come there.
G13, an honorary title turned into an almost affectionate nickname that he had earned from one mission with Balam Industries' Redguns from their charismatic leader Michigan or more commonly G1, the leader of the Redguns.
Buddy, an undoubtedly affectionate and friendly nickname from Rusty who fought under Arquebus, a nickname which would continue to be used until their eventual fight and his subsequent and presumed death.
He wanted to laugh in the face of it all, who was he to have these names besides a man who tried to fly on borrowed wings?
He had been content with his way of life. He was a hound through and through, he was a pilot who would live and die for the mission!
Before his mind could go on another spiel he felt himself stir, pulling him from his thoughts and he immediately began assessing the situation that he was currently in.
It was dark, that much he could visually tell, the lights from his AC that should've been on weren't and the emergency lights that should've been on in such a case weren't there. He couldn't even see outside of the AC and trying to move it quickly proved to be a futile effort and he swore that he could hear something outside of the cockpit, not quite the familiar sounds of combat but something familiar to him, nostalgic even.
"Ayre...?" The name came out of his mouth before he could think, his voice sounded raspy and unfamiliar to even his ears, proof of how little he spoke. But despite his words, no response came.
Strange, his augmentations didn't require an AC to be functional and by that line of thought neither should Ayre, or at least she shouldn't if she was a side-effect from his augmentations being exposed to too much Coral like they assumed.
Ayre? He asked mentally this time, their go-to mode of conversation ever since she got stuck with him, though to call it a conversation would be overselling it as it was her who did all the talking save for the few few times they were waiting for a mission.
Unaware even to himself, a seed of insecurity began to well up inside of him. Without her, then he would've followed through with Walter and Cinder Carla's plan. To burn the coral and Ayre's family to save the future lives of every human. But he didn't, not because it went against his morals but because of Ayre, she was his anchor in this world, it wouldn't be a lie to say that it was her and her alone that kept him moving at this point.
Cinder Carla? He had killed both her and Chatty Stick, her faithful AI and friend. All because they wished to burn down the Coral, Ayre's family. He didn't want to admit it, but it was painful. Cinder Carla wouldn't change her mind just like he wouldn't either so it left the both of them only one option, to kill the other. Yet despite that, she was proud of him, glad that he had finally made a decision of his own.
He had even killed Handler Walter, who was as resolute to stop him as Cinder Carla was. 621 wasn't sure how he was alive, he was sure he had died but he came back regardless in an unknown AC wielding coral weapons. He was being pushed to his limits, 621 wasn't even sure he could handle another bout with Walter but the man had stopped himself, finally seeing Ayre or at least her vestiges. His last words lingered on 621's mind, was that why he stopped himself? Because he found himself a friend?
His hands clenched the controls tightly, he had already failed them once in his betrayal and couldn't afford to fail them a second them, so with all his might he willed, no, he forced the AC to move. He had to show them! There was still a future, a future where humanity and coral could be side by side!
But it never moved. It couldn't move considering the state it was in.
He gritted his teeth, he would resist till the bitter end, till his purpose was well and truly done. But he had to focus, to calm down.
The cockpit of his AC wouldn't open no matter how many attempts he made, he even gave it a few good kicks for good measure, a sure-fire way to get anything to open or pop open in this case. Is something blocking the cockpit? It was hard to ignore the sound that came from his kicks considering that he couldn't see out side his AC, but it was likely what put his AC here and powered it down.
He could almost feel a smirk tug at his lips as he remembered a feature he had installed; it would seem that his cautiousness was finally rewarded. He pressed an unseen but normally hidden button as the chest of his AC exploded outward, taking whatever was on top of his AC a couple of 100 yards as he safely exited, or at least that was what it was intended to do.
Instead, he found himself being blinded by the glaring lights of the sun and then promptly had the entire inside of his AC flooded in water with him still in it.
He wouldn't have been an AC pilot for this long if he wasn't adaptable and a quick thinker to boot, so as soon as the water hit his face he realized that he was going to drown if he didn't get out. Quickly swimming out of his AC he activated a device around his neck, it quickly inflated springing him towards the surface where that damning sun was.
He ungracefully coughed out water as his eyes adjusted to the light. Is that a bird? His brows furrowed in thought, last he recalled space wasn't so blue and birds couldn't quite fly that high. Now that the danger of drowning was gone he also quickly realized that this sheer amount of water wasn't in space either.
The more he looked around the more confused he grew, Rubicon 3 looked nothing like this in the slightest, sure there were areas untouched by technology but not to this degree. There was even an active war that raged everywhere across the surface of Rubicon 3.
He filed those thoughts away for later, first things first he couldn't just keep aimlessly floating in the water. Thankfully, he found himself on an island, probably the most inviting sight he had seen since... since, well, his AC.
He wanted to sigh, just how was he going to get back now, especially when his AC was like... that.
The that in question was the object of his current ire. His AC, once so infallible and a sight that captivated many - mainly him - was finally bested. Bested by water of all things and understandably so. His AC couldn't exactly win against water, especially when it was underwater. The only saving grace was that the island was the only thing keeping his AC from the deep dark of the oceans abyss.
A sigh finally escaped his mouth and he found himself thinking back to the one person he was worried about; if only Ayre were here... At least the tides were receding ever so slowly and his AC was fortunately not that deep in the water so it likely wasn't going to float away anytime soon not that it could float.
He stopped himself from sitting down on the sand when his eyes focused on one spot inside of his AC, he was sure that he kept a hidden compartment inside stashing supplies, though it was only ever meant to be used in emergencies which meant that said supplies were only medical outside of one particular outlier.
Quickly running back to the waters he took a deep breath before diving in. Even though he barely had to swim, the practice that he had proved to be helpful as with each stroke he found himself closer to his objective. There it is. If they could, his eyes would have been shining.
With a quick swim back to shore he found himself staring at a nondescript and plain metal box that contained his medical supplies but more importantly a particularly useful item in these situations.
Opening the box he moved all of the medical supplies to the side and found a flare gun, a rather useless tool in his opinion, at least against AC combat but outside of it? Well, it was made for situations like these.
Without this, he might even be permanently stranded. If Rubicon Liberation Front was an option he would have gotten ahold of them by now but something about this place seemed off, this place, wherever he was likely didn't belong to Rubicon 3, it was too peaceful, too lively, it didn't help that the local wildlife looked like nothing he would see in Rubicon 3 or lack thereof.
He almost wanted to smile, was this how he would go out?
No, not if he could still do something. If there was one thing he would never do then it would to be to give up and simply die.
He pointed the flaregun in the air, his finger gently laid on the trigger but made no effort to pull, doubts still lingering in his mind. A single thought stopping him from making one simple action, what if Arquebus found him instead?
Click.
He watched the bright red flare fly high into the sky, almost disappearing behind the clouds before stopping itself and floating there.
His mind drifted back bitterly to his earlier thoughts just what was going on with him? If Arquebus found him then they would return with a dead body and one last fight, it was as simple as that.
But what if his allies, the Rubicon Liberation Front were to find him? His mission was already done, the best he could do for them now was to be placed on a pedestal or maybe train upcoming AC pilots, but besides that? They didn't need Raven any longer, he had served his purpose.
They still need you, Raven. He felt himself turn around as the flaregun buried itself in the sand, only the sight of trees in the distance being gently blown by the wind.
He could feel his mind already berating him. "What did you expect 621?" Ayre didn't even have a body to begin with, she was in his head.
The sand below him parted as he sat down, unable to do anything in this situation.
Even if he wanted to get to the Rubicon Liberation Front he couldn't. What was he going to do? Swim across the water?
Without his AC he was useless. He could do nothing but wait, but what if no one came? Was he supposed to just... live here?
The thought was certainly entertaining.
He was acutely aware of how his mind got lost further in thought and yet he let it happen.
What if the Rubicon Liberation Front weren't so forgiving? He still killed many of them while he was masquerading as a mercenary but he didn't regret it either. Afterall, at the time it was all for the mission, for Handler Walters mission.
Maybe he would pay for his crimes as they would like to say.
Dammit. He let his body fall uselessly against the sand, matting his entire body in small clumps that would no doubt be hard to get rid of. Waiting; that was all that he had to do now, that was all that he could do now.
It's been a long while since I wrote a story and actually wanted to continue writing said story, regardless it was either Azur Lane, Girls Frontline, or Nikke. Didn't know how to incorporate ACs into Nikke and I wanted to be more original with my story instead of copying the original story word for word. I mean, I could incorporate, say, an alternate timeline into this and have AL and GFL coexist eh? Eh?