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Chapter 1: XIII
Illal…
Home to new beginnings they say… a planet rich with resources and life that attracted thousands of colonists from all over the sector. Promises of a fresh start were true at first, but then the three largest corporations in the planet – Prosk, Sentium, and Crion – got a little competitive. As time moved on, competition between them intensified, at first bringing technological advances, but eventually resulting in global ruin. But that all changed when Crion collapsed, with them came the outbreak of a self-replicating nano-virus known as Giga-Structure, or more commonly known as Hawken, named after Dr. Hawken himself.
The virus covered more than a third of Illal’s surface with those who could afford to evacuate did, those that were left behind either died, or became bandits. In the ongoing struggle over the planet's dwindling resources, mechs were repurposed into war machines, and every able-bodied pilot is enlisted into the fight.
That was ten years ago…
Even now Illal is still a shithole, while the virus stopped spreading and became docile, the corporations still had their dirty greedy hands over the planet. Even with Crion gone the scars of their sins were still evident all across the world.
I was one of those sins: kidnapped at ten and ripped apart from my loving family, I was shoved into a shuttle bound for Illal, at first I didn’t know who these people were but when I got older, I realized they were Crion agents.
I was going to be a part of their sick experiments.
But after the war broke out – four years after I was kidnapped – the facility I was in was hit by a squadron of mercenaries… seeing as they found me and twelve other children, they gave us the choice, fight… or simply run… but to where?
The choice was obvious… we were going to fight and make Crion pay. Thankfully we were already trained on how to operate mechs due to Crion practically inserting fast learning implants into our heads that allowed us to learn skills at an alarming rate.
We were going to be bred to fight for them… but now we were going to fight against them.
Our of all the mechs that I was trained in, there was only one that I excelled in the most…
The Reaper-Class… built on a Spree chassis, it was armed with a hard hitting Slug Rifle that fires 100mm slugs at extreme velocity that could pierce through any kind of armor, its other weapon was the even more devastating KE-Sabot, the Sabot Rifle’s little brother.
I painted it the color of blood with a white star on the middle that had later became known as the Spree Star color scheme that later on sold like hotcakes in the market.
My friends nicknamed me bratwurst, after my favorite food… but in the battlefield I was known as XIII, named after the numerals etched on the back of my neck.
The war was fought long and hard for the next two years, alongside my twelve friends, Jacen, Anya, Dmitar, Mina, Raya, Hanz, Peter, Sarah, David, Kay, Nicholas, and Michael… all of them my best friends, brothers and sisters in arms.
All were killed a nuclear blast that engulfed the entire battlefield of Pleiad Fields.
I was the only one of Disciple Company to survive the explosion that destroyed the entire city.
That’s how I took the name Disciple… in honor of my fallen brethren who I had been with for the past six years.
I am a mercenary now, living off through blood money in order to get myself a shuttle pass to Earth… no matter how hopeless or how far that goal is, I kept on, hoping that one day I can get off this desolate world.
~oOo~
Hades System
Planet Illal
What motivates the best pilots?
Some pilots are looking for revenge, rookies are hoping to prove they got the goods, the bolt heads are looking to be legends, and others want to save the planet while others want to leave it to die.
Everyone looks to the past, and see it as the golden times, a place to return to in their dreams. But while the rest of the world look to the corporations for guidance, the real warriors fight for the soul of the planet. Pilots who believe the way to redemption is forward, down a path of pain and sacrifice, a well-oiled axe and a steady hand will change the tide.
So… what motivates the best pilots?
There is no right or wrong answer to that, motivation isn’t about being good or bad. Here in this world, the line between good or bad has long since been broken, survival is what truly drives them… and it’s what also kills them.
The desire to live is both a blessing… and a curse.
A sigh rang through the small room that had a window that overlooked the windy landscape of rock and ice, and within that room was a young man of two decades with hair as black as a raven’s feather and dark magenta eyes.
He wore a gray pilot’s suit that had a bulletproof vest that protected his upper body and abdomen, to his right sitting on the table was his helmet coloured in black with the numerals ‘XIII’ etched on its left.
Continuing his sigh he closed the little journal that was in between his hands as he placed the pen back into the little cup that held several other writing utensils. Looking out the window where a snow storm was raging, he got up and poured himself a mug of hot chocolate, smelling the wonderful scent of the sweet drink before taking a sip and exhaling a sigh of slight contentment before reaching his arm out for an aged picture of a family that consisted of a woman with bright purple hair and dark magenta eyes, just below her was a young girl with eyes and hair of the same colors. To their side was a boy a year younger than the girl with black hair and the same eyes that the woman and the girl had.
Unfortunately the father was not present.
He had a look of longing when he gazed at the picture, letting out a sad smile in the process.
“I’ll see you two soon.”
*ARF*
The pilot turned his head and smiled warmly at the sight of a canine-like pup with several black scales on its upper back and neck with thick black leathery skin all over. It had short pointed years aimed up and a long tail. Placing the mug on the table, he knelt down and stroked the pup’s fur, “Hey buddy… you hungry?”
*ARF* *ARF*
This was hellhound pup, a native to the planet Illal. They are a predatory species that behave very much like the wolves of Earth, always acting in packs with an Alpha to lead them. The pilot found the puppy and saw that he was the last of his pack, seeing the multiple mutilated bodies of the rest of its clan along with several dozen ded puppies.
An attack by a rival pack.
The pilot simply couldn’t leave the puppy to die and decided to take him in.
Hellhounds behave very much like wolves when in packs, and when they become enraged, attack prey, or simply get excited, their scales turn red.
Thus the little pup’s scales were now a light shade of red from the excitement of food being given to him. The little canine stuck out its tongue and started spinning on the ground, barking squeakily and nuzzled its face onto the pilot’s boot.
“Alright, alright.” The pilot chuckled and walked over to the fridge and took a piece of T-bone steak, “You like this?”
*ARF*
“Sit.”
The puppy did so obediently as his master placed a bowl. The pilot knelt down once more and stared into the deep silvery eyes of the hellhound before smiling, “Good boy.”
The hellhound pup barked happily as the piece of meat was placed on the bowl, once his master released his hold on his food, the little puppy immediately sank his tiny teeth into the red meat.
“Wait till you see Earth little buddy, it’s going to be great once I get a shuttle pass.”
*ARF*
The puppy simply responded with a bark before resuming his meal. The pilot chuckled and went back to his cup of hot chocolate, looking out the window to see the frozen beauty of the tundra with wind blowing snow everywhere. The landscape was nothing but rock and ice, living in the northern hemisphere gives you that.
It was a secluded area that not many would dare venture in unless that person knew the land, a crucial and necessary skill that the pilot possesses in order to traverse the treacherous landscape of Illal’s northern lands. But no matter how dangerous this land was, it had its own certain beauty, with its white icy flakes touching down as the storm’s wind slowly dissipated to reveal the entire area blanketed with snow.
“Sometimes I find myself questioning why I want to leave such beauty behind…” the pilot told himself as he took another sip of his hot chocolate. Turning his head to see his little hellhounds still eating, he smiled to himself and sat on the couch that faced the window. Leaning into the soft couch to relax, he exhaled before taking another sip, “Leave all of this, huh?”
*BEEP* *BEEP* * BEEP*
His hand then reached for the button on the communicator before he speaking to it, “This is Disciple… who is this?”
[Ah Mr. Disciple!] the cheerful voice of a middle-aged man came through the phone, [Is this a bad time? I have a job for you, and the client is willing to pay quite handsomely for this.]
“Just give me the details.”
[Of course, of course. Well since you don’t seem to be in the mood a chat, I will have the mission data sent to you immediately, till we meet again Mr. Disciple.]
*CLICK*
Disciple sighed and picked up a data pad that quickly received the details of the job he was about to take, “Generous pay for escorting a shipment of cavorite…”
He scrolls down and finds that the train was carrying at least a thousand tons of it, causing him to whistle.
“And that is a lot of cavorite.”
Cavorite was a rare mineral in Illal with several lightweight properties despite it being so dense. It was a tough ally that could fashioned into armor plating for armored vehicles and mechs but with it being so difficult to find, demand and price for it is high.
And a thousand tons of it would draw unwanted attention; even bandits and other competitors would want a piece of that pie.
Turning his head once more to his little hellhound, he told him, “You behave while I’m gone, okay?”
*ARF*
Disciple nodded and went down a small flight of stairs that led him into a hangar that housed a single A-Class mech known as the Reaper, a Spree chassis mech coloured in red with a white star on the front, it was armed with a heavy hitting slug rifle and a KE-Sabot cannon. For a mech so small only sitting at one and a half stories high, it packed a heavy punch that could tear heavy armor like a hot knife through butter. The KE-Sabot fired super-heated tungsten rounds at extreme velocities while the slug rifle fired HEAT slugs that could both pierce and cause an explosion from the inside of its desired target.
Very devastating weapons in the hands of a skilled marksman.
Putting his helmet with the numerals ‘XIII’ etched to the side, he stepped into the snug cockpit of the Reaper and flipped a few switches that powered up the machine’s reactor. Pressing his fingers onto another button, it activated the controls of the hangar doors, sliding them open to allow the A-Class mech to come out. Once it was out, the hangar doors closed themselves with the mech that came out being nothing but a small black dot in the horizon.
Time to go work.
~oOo~
“Is that really Disciple? The number 13?” a convoy guard asked his partner while pointing at the A-Class mech known as the Reaper.
“Don’t point at him!” the other guard hissed and lowered his friend’s arm down, “Pointing at him is bad mojo, there’s a reason why he’s also known as the 13, that itself is an unlucky number. That guy’s nothin’ but bad luck, so keep your mouth shut.”
“Right… sorry.” The first guard scratched the back of his head and shrunk back, Disciple’s reputation wasn’t pleasant at all. While he was known to deliver good results for a job, he was more known for his mercilessness in the battlefield, everything he touches is destroyed and the path behind is filled with nothing but death.
He was an unlucky number.
Everyone did not deny how skilled he was as a soldier, but everyone would rather avoid him due to his past of being part of a thirteen man squad filled with underage child soldiers, with only him being the last. The majority of everyone’s thoughts were was that he was the reason why the rest of his squad was wiped out.
And that’s how the number XIII was born.
Within the cockpit of the Reaper, Disciple looked through the magnification of his targeting scope and saw a few bandits in nothing more than makeshift desert vehicles screaming like idiots, giving away their position. The young pilot rolled his eyes and trained his weapons directly at the foolish bandits and wasted no time in pulling the trigger.
Scanning the rest of the landscape while firing on the now panicking bandits, he spotted a metallic object not too far from his position.
“What’s this?”
~oOo~
Earth
Japan
Town of Kagamidai
A young woman of 21 years of age with bright purple hair walked to her home carrying a bag of groceries. Stepping into her home where an older woman in her late forties yet looked to be in her early thirties sat on the couch with the television on, “Oh you’re back.”
“I didn’t get much, has Shingo come yet?”
The older woman chuckled, “No, your boyfriend should be here anytime though.”
*DING* *DONG*
“Ah that must be Shingo!” the younger woman smiled and immediately went for the door, but when she opened it, she instead met with a woman of at least her age or younger with brown hair, “Oh… can I help you?”
“Are you the Amaha family?” the brunette asked.
“Y-Yes…” the purplette raised an eyebrow, “Is there something I can do for you?”
The brunette let out a long sigh of relief, “Oh thank goodness…” she said as she reached for her pocket and pulled out an envelope, “I’ve been looking for you for so long… I can’t really say much but the contents of this envelope would tell you everything. All I can tell you is that your answers are all in the colony Illal.”
“Illal?”
“Yes…”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mina, now if you will excuse me… I have to go. Good day to you all.”
The purplette just stared at the retreating figure before closing the door with the envelope in hand.
“Miu!” the older purple haired woman called out, “Who was that?”
“I don’t know.” The younger woman now named Miu replied as she walked back into the living room and opened the envelope, “Some strange girl just gave me an enve- oh God…”
“Miu?” the mother stood up and approached the completely shocked and near horrified look of her daughter, “What is it.”
“A picture.” Miu said with hands shaking, “A picture of… Eric.”
The mother stood there with eyes wide, it was a name that was rarely spoke due to painful memories, the name of her youngest child, her only son. Fearfully she took the picture, and there she saw the image of a young man with jet black hair with the same magenta coloured eyes both women had, sitting on top of what appeared to be a combat mech bristling with large guns on each side, in his hand was an assault rifle. “Eric… he’s alive. My baby boy!”
Miu had tears flowing down her face with hands shot up to her mouth, scrambling to the envelope, she found a small data stick. “We have to go get him, the girl said our answer lies in Illal, we have to go there.”
The mother’s body shook in both anticipation and fear, it had been ten years since Eric was taken away from them, ten years since their family nearly fell apart. And now this sudden development had arisen and she was this close to packing her bags and purchase a ticket to Illal, “We need to calm down first, assess the situation and plan what we need to do next. We can’t afford to act on impulse, Illal is a dangerous place after all.”
“Why?” Miu asked with disparity, “Why is my little brother in such a horrible place?”
[Please put all comments in my other thread in order to avoid clutter.]
Edited by Bratwurst, 19 April 2015 - 06:50 PM.
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