Chapter Text
2583-06-05 07:26
You know, from this cliff-side vantage point, the contaminated city actually looks shockingly intact.
I squint, the shallow valley lake acting as a giant mirror, reflecting the morning light, courtesy of the Rubiconian sun peeking over the surrounding mountains. Yes, the city is intact, except for the fact that the lower floors of all of the buildings are submerged under about ten feet of water.
Also, if you got up closer to the architecture, you’d probably find a lot of shattered windows and broken infrastructure. And don’t forget the, y’know, contamination.
What’s it contaminated with? Beats me. I never bothered asking. Something to do with the Coral, probably. Irradiation, maybe? Whatever it is, it’s not enough to deter everyone from fighting over this piece of derelict urban real estate like their lives depend on it. The current lucky owners, the Rubicon Liberation Front, seem busy guarding the place while they wait for their construction crews to come set up proper fortifications.
I take a step forward, getting ready to launch off of the cliff, down to the city proper. Or, well, I don’t take a step forward. I’m sitting snugly in a dark cockpit, hands on joysticks, fingers and thumbs at the triggers, eyes flicking around rapidly between various displays and digital readouts and blinking LEDs. The only sensation of physical movement I experience comes courtesy of the cables connected to my body’s dermal ports.
No, it’s my AC, LOADER 4, which takes the ponderous step, the single casual motion kicking up an amount of dirt and snow that would make a construction crew blush, the footfall rattling the earth in a large enough radius to scare the birds out of every single tree in sight. If there were any birds, anyway.
Where are the animals? Did they all get burned away in the Fires, and then… nobody bothered to import some more? Fuck. Just more evidence that the PCA doesn’t ever actually give a shit about-
My train of thought is interrupted by a series of three nav markers appearing on my HUD, and the radio crackling to life.
“Kr-!” a cough, “Six-Two-One! That launch wasn’t too rough, was it? The Grid is really falling apart…” comes the nasally voice of my… uh, mission commander, I guess we can call her. “What did you do about those Liberation Front guys?”
“Went around,” I say simply. Her response washes over me, as I busy myself with scanning over the target locations. The one on my right is near a large retaining wall. The one my left is next to a massive piece of fallen Grid. And the third is dead in the center of downtown. I’m gonna guess those are some wrecks I need to check for-
“Oh! Right, I sent you the locations of AC wrecks to check for spare licenses.”
… Yeah, that. Those are all ACs, though? That’s a lot of expensive fuckups in one place.
Punching my assault boost, I take off from the cliff, flying towards the leftmost target. Not wanting to just be a huge obvious flying target the entire way there, I angle downward, splashing down at the edge of the city, to begin making my way through, in between the buildings.
It’s… eerie, I won’t lie. I gaze in through windows as I carefully boost past empty buildings, LOADER 4’s “eye” level roughly at the third story of most of them. My curiosity is met with empty offices, department stores, and apartments that were likely situated over now-submerged street-level storefronts. Even as hazy as my memories of childhood are, I can recall going to plenty of places like this while growing up. Though, they were populated and functioning, of course.
Weaving between the city blocks and through the streets, I draw close to a clearing of sorts. Stopping at the corner of a large warehouse or factory building, I put my back up against it, readying my assault rifle in both hands. Staying perfectly still in a big robot is pretty easy, and my current camo makes me difficult to pick out from the gray buildings. Anyone beyond this point would have a hard time noticing me yet, since boosting along the ground is a much quieter affair than heavy footfalls.
A small, prehensile wire camera extends from my core, unspooling just far enough to peek around the corner of the building, towards the AC wreck I’m trying to reach. I could use my scanner to practically see through the building, but it typically only picks out specific objects, rather than giving me a full picture. Plus, that sort of active ping can set off enemy sensors.
There’s two RLF MTs patrolling nearby the wreck, which is situated on the lower parts of the aforementioned fallen piece of the Grid. The MTs are at ground level, and seem to be, as far as I can tell, guarding the wreck? That’s odd. Maybe they’re waiting for somebody else to come take a look? At any rate, both have large, solid shields. Not that that’s a problem really, since my pulse blade can-
“Hey, those MTs have shields!” my commander chimes in, “You should be able to slice right through ‘em with your pulse blade!”
“Hold on,” I reply, burying a brief feeling of irritation with my “handler.” Retracting the camera and boosting around the corner in one coordinated motion, I level my rifle towards the closer MT, and take a shot.
The bullet whizzes past in an intentional near miss, cracking against the Grid debris. Both MTs immediately burst into action. And by that, I mean they flip out in an apparent panic. One seems to notice me, and, soon, both of them are firing their machine guns my way.
The bullets mostly plink uselessly off of my AC’s armor, the few solid hits making my muscles twitch from neural feedback signals, but shaving off only minimal material. I take another two shots, this time at the ground near the feet of the MTs. Come on, take the hint...
They don’t take the hint, one even having the bright idea of charging directly towards me. Which is a problem, as closing the distance might actually make that gun more than a minor threat.
So, I take the initiative, and close the distance first, boosters flaring to life to launch me forward with the kind of acceleration that would turn most non-augmented pilots to paste. Rearing back with my left arm, I make a sweeping motion, like a haymaker punch, as my arm-mounted pulse blade kicks on and creates a blinding arc of ethereal light, bisecting the hapless MT’s shield like a stick of butter.
These MTs, while humanoid, don’t have heads, but if they did, I feel like this one would be looking frantically between its ruined shield, and LOADER 4 now looming directly in front of it. I lift my rifle, but rather than taking a shot, I simply point it aggressively towards the city, away from this wreck site, cocking my camera-like head that way to further indicate the direction.
The other MT pilot doesn’t seem to need much encouragement to flee, as it wheels around on its feet and boosts away at top speed. The MT in front of me, probably after losing an argument over the radio, does the same with a more apparent reluctance.
Watching the two of them leave, and not particularly caring if they get reinforcements, I make my way over to the wreck, making a few hops up the piles of debris. Once at my target, I kneel, another wire extending from my core to connect with that of the wrecked AC before me. The assembly consists of old, boxy BASHO parts. Quite classic, but its no wonder it got smoked.
Thankfully, its black box is still intact. Connecting, I quickly find the onboard license information. Some independent merc. Must be local, though, considering the parts. Unfortunately, the license is expi-
“Darn, that license seems expired, uh, 621. Hm, maybe next you should go check out the one in-”
“Backseating,” I interrupt.
My commander sputters for a moment. “W-what?”
“You’re backseating,” I repeat, standing upright, and turning to face away from the wreck.
“What? I am not! I… I’m in charge of this mission! I’m just directing you!”
“No, it’s backseating.” Hopping down from the debris pile, I begin boosting through the water, re-entering the city streets to head to the next nav point. “You always do this. When we’re playing games. I’ve been meaning to say something about it.”
“Oh, come on, this is different! It’s… It’s a mission! This is more important! I have to… give expert advice! I-I’ve probably piloted ACs more than you have!”
“Doubtful.”
“What!? You’re, like… twenty!”
“Twenty-two.” Probably. I round a block, drawing close to the target location. “Birthday was a month ago.”
She gasps. “What? Aw, you should have said something! We coulda had a party!”
“Didn’t want one.”
My commander groans. “Ugh! Fine, do your thing, I’ll just watch, I guess. You’re impossible...” she pouts.
I smirk. You’re damn right. Wait, what is that sound?
Just as the wide expressway with the target wreck on it comes into view, I look up past the last building on my left in time to see the largest, loudest, brightest helicopter I’ve ever seen in my life, tearing down the way.
“Uh oh,” says my commander, “Subject Guard? Yikes…”
Staying still around the corner of a building once again, I watch as the helicopter—more like a heavily armed flying office building—screams past my position, and unleashes a volley of missiles upon some unfortunate MTs that are stationed near the target location. Violent explosions rend the air, devastating not only them, but every structure around them. My frame rattling from the shock waves, I wince, not simply because I probably just saw three or four people get incinerated, but also because that explosion was disconcertingly close to my target. Though, what are the chances two of those MTs were the two I just tried to spare earlier? Damn...
Once the helicopter is out of sight, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, before making my way over to the wreck.
From here, everything goes fairly smoothly. Well, for a mission in a war zone, anyway. I’m forced to take down two helicopters—regular-sized ones—at the third AC wreck near the retaining wall. Reassuring myself that the RLF members knew what they were signing up for, and shoving any complex feelings on the matter into the back of my mind to live with the rest of them, I nab the last license.
Another independent. Though it has—or had—an interesting “hunchback” assembly, a combination of Schneider and Arquebus parts. The previous wreck was effectively its polar opposite, consisting of hefty Balam and Dafeng parts. Interestingly, it was one of Balam corp’s own Redguns? I forget the name, though. I wasn’t about to pry the cockpit open to see if there was a body in it, so maybe they ejected. Who knows?
At any rate, neither of these licenses are any good, either. The Redgun is corporate, and this fella doesn’t even have a rank. How’d they manage that? Something’s wrong with it, at any rate, and we can’t risk trying to sort it out.
Twisting my mouth, I open comms back to HQ. “Now what?”
“Oh, oh, would you like my help now? It wouldn’t be too much of a bother, would it?” my commander lilts sarcastically.
“Alphys.”
A sigh. “Okay, okay, I’m looking.” A moment of silence. Then, to my surprise, another nav point appears on my HUD. “Huh! How did I miss that one? Well, there you go! Another AC wreck.”
Another one? What the hell happened here? Two independents and a Redgun, but somehow all that’s left is a small contingent of RLF MTs.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I fire up the assault boost and jet off towards the last wreck, which is on top of what looks like an absolutely enormous building. A few hops along rooftops and one vertical catapult later, I find myself on top.
Well, actually, this isn’t a building. The ground here is dirt, so I guess those were just really big retaining walls, and smaller structures built into them. There is, however an actual large structure ahead of me, just past the target wreck. It almost looks like some government building, but its way too big. Huge, solid concrete portions extend up even higher past what would be reasonable for any local civilian function. This place must be part of the planet’s grander infrastructure. Or, it used to be.
I could look further up, to where the buildings soaring heights suggest. I don’t.
Approaching the final wreck, I kneel down once more, connecting core-to-core, as I peruse the assembly here. Which…
Wait.
ORBITER core, TOOL ARMs, and CRAWLER legs. This is… my assembly? There’s even the same rifle. But… no. The head’s different. I’ve never seen one like it, I don’t think. Some kind of custom job? Not to mention the dual missiles and light(ish) grenade launcher mounted on the back. Oh, and an ASHMEAD!? … Darn, it’s all wrecked up, I think. No pile bunking for me today.
Still. What a weird assembly. It’s lovingly customized, with some aggressive options to boot, but still rocking this shitty RaD frame that’s hardly even made for direct combat. I know for sure I’m replacing all of my frame parts as soon as I can. This rifle, too. What was this person’s priorities?
Judging by the data, they successfully ejected. So, hey, maybe I can ask them some day.
Well, let’s check out their license.
My eyes widen. My breath halts in my throat. My gaze is fixed upon the information display on the screen to my left.
No.
No way.
“Oh, hey, looks like we got a live one!” Alphys chimes in over the radio, “Phew, I was afraid we’d have to go somewhere else entirely. Pretty lucky!”
I pay little mind to what she’s saying, thoughts scattered and spinning with questions.
What are they doing here? Are they working with… no, they couldn’t be. They have to be working completely alone. If this person is here, then… they’ve probably got a hand in the security breach. Who else would be responsible? But… to bring the corporations here? On purpose? No way…
“Uh… 621?”
No way Branch would…
“Kris! Focus! The SG copter is back!”
W-what!?
I look up, just in time to to see the same helicopter from before round the corner of the massive building in front of me. It trains its lights directly on me. I quickly disconnect from the wreck, leaping back, rifle at the ready, as I stare up at an unavoidable fight with a foe ten times the size of a giant robot that is, itself, already the size of a small building.
I quick boost just in time to avoid the first volley of missile fire, as Alphys shouts in a panic that I have no choice but to fight, now. Of course. I just crash landed on the planet an hour ago, a flagrant breach of the closure system. They weren’t just here to fight the RLF, they were looking for me! Stupid, stupid...
With no other choice but to eliminate this enemy, to cover my tracks, I engage hard lock on the helicopter and charge forth into mortal battle, war machine to war machine. I have to survive this. Losing to this thing isn’t even a possibility I’ll allow. I have to answer the question that’s now burning hotly in the back of my mind:
What is an Angel doing here!?
2582-11-25 15:20
I stare into the fire.
A great, crimson orb. Like a miniature sun. Floating in space. I’m floating in space.
I look around with bleary eyes, head ringing. More crimson orbs… these aren’t glowing. Blood. My blood?
Debris, twisted scrap and exposed wires, scattered across a backdrop of cold, distant stars.
Movement out of the corner of my eye, I look. Another form, clad in a spacesuit. They’re… she’s reaching. Trembling. Screaming? I can’t hear, can’t see her face, but I know.
I blink. She’s gone. I reach, too late, towards nothing. More than nothing. There’s no stars. There’s no woman. Was there ever? I strain, looking, scanning, searching, trying to find her again, desperate to find her. No, not like this…
If only I could see, but I can’t, no matter how closely I look, there is nothing, only darkness, only pain, only the void the void the void the void the void the
My eyes flutter open. For real, this time. I don’t know where I am, but, even before my natural senses kick in, I’ve already painted a picture in my mind from my sensory augments.
I’m in a chair, strapped in, in some way. The dermal ports on the right side of my neck thrum with activity. My reflexive attempts at sending signals down the connected cables are met with restrictive filters and protocols, but I can at least gather that I’m not in a cockpit. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve woken up in a cockpit.
“… Oh, yeah, yep, there you are. Inquisitive! Very good, eheh…”
I turn my head towards the source of the voice, but its somewhere out of view. It’s nasally, and… well, that’s about all I can really say about it.
Things are clearer now. I’m in a moderately sized room. An office, or workshop. A bit of both, really. I’ve found myself in enough augmentation chop shops over the past few years to recognize the strange synthesis of doctor’s office and engineering bay, with its array of monitors, medical equipment, and workbenches covered in tools and spare parts.
And, naturally, rolling into view, on a wheeled office chair, is the owner of the voice I just heard, and likely master of this workshop. A squat, yellow lizard monster in a white lab coat, stethoscope looped around their nearly nonexistent neck, head spiked and frilled like some sort of bearded dragon. Rolling right up to me, they lift an opthalmoscope in front of my face and shine a light into one of my eyes, and then the other.
“You seem awake! Are you with me? You can just nod if you want.”
I nod, hesitantly.
“Great! Alright then…” Rolling away again, the doctor(?) turns, puts the scope down, and rolls back again with a clipboard. Adjusting their glasses, they clear their throat.
“Let’s see… Okay! Augmented Human C4-621. You are, starting earlier today, and hereafter, under the owner… well, let’s say, employ of one Dr. Alphys. That’s me, eheh.”
They… she gestures to herself with a grin. My eyes widen in response to the name. Oh. Oh no.
My gaze darts around the room. I’m not even sure for what, I already know there’s no escape here. In the back of my growing panic, I register the beeps and buzzing of nearby medical monitors picking up in pace.
The doctor’s grin quickly fades, and she holds her clawed hand out towards me. “Woah, woah! I-It’s okay, I promise!” My eyes return to her face. Her grin is still there, but now twinged with an awkward nervousness. She looks aside, and rubs at her neck with one hand. “I... take it you’ve heard of me. I know I, uh, have a bit of a reputation.”
Seeming to regain her composure quickly, she gestures dismissively. “Handler Alphys, the ruthless master and her expendable hounds,” she rattles off in a rote manner. “I know it’s hard to believe, but, the reputation is kind of an accident, and... well, you’re gonna have to trust me, I guess, eheh… But, I promise! Seriously! I-I’m not so bad.”
And she’s back to seeming nervous, again, grinning that grin that lacks all confidence. I have to admit, she’s not quite putting out the kind of menacing aura I had imagined from the stories. I squint one eye at her.
Seeming to take that as a judgment of her words, she sighs. “L-look, I don’t… I never meant to ‘expend’ anyone. And, I don’t intend to expend you…” she glances aside at the floor, expression sober for a moment. She taps a pen against the clipboard.
Then she shakes her head. “Anyway… yeah! Uh, how’s this? How ‘bout you tell me your name? Or, whatever it is you want to be called?”
I stare at her for a moment, in slight shock. I swallow, preparing to speak. And then immediately succumb to a violent coughing fit, doubling over in the examination chair.
She jumps out of her chair, moving up next to me to begin patting me on the back. She then reaches somewhere behind me, before handing me an open bottle of water. I snatch it from her claws and begin greedily guzzling it down, my apparent thirst hitting me like a dry, dusty brick.
“Okay! Okay, slow down, take your time…” Alphys slowly pats and rubs my back. I take her advice, slowing enough to avoid yet another fit of choking.
I’m back to breathing normally, still hunched over, staring at the floor, holding the mostly empty bottle in my lap, the doctor’s hand still on my back. For a brief, fleeting moment, I feel like I’m in a different time. A different place. With a different hand, comforting.
My heart aches, and I shove the thought aside.
“Kris.” I say, finally. “My name… is Kris.”
Alphys smiles, giving my back one last pat, before waddling back to her chair and slumping into it. She clicks her pen and begins writing. “C… h…”
“K,” I quickly correct.
“Oh! Haha, yeah, guess I shoulda checked…” She scribbles out her writing, and then glances up towards me. “K… r… i-s?”
I nod.
She finishes writing it down, and a few other things, before rolling over to a console interface. She starts tapping some buttons and moving a mouse. “Alright, gonna disconnect, so brace yourself. You’re not gonna, like, flip out and super-murder me if I let you go, are ya?” she asks with a chuckle, eyes remaining on a monitor.
I furrow my brow, and shake my head. Almost immediately, I feel a series of tugs at my neck ports, followed by plastic-y clicking sounds, the plugs falling onto my shoulder, and away. It doesn’t hurt per se, but the jolt to the nervous system is always a tad uncomfortable.
As soon as the cords are retracted, the restraints around my lap and torso click and go slack, allowing me to remove them like seat belts. Because that’s what they are, upon closer inspection, repurposed in a makeshift rig.
I start to get up, and, once again, the doctor is out of her chair, reaching towards me. “Oh, here, let me help…”
I’m about to push her arm aside, when my legs wobble, and I nearly fall over. I stumble into Alphys’ arms, my wiry form flopping over her shoulder. Welp.
To her credit, she doesn’t make it too weird, simply helping me to right myself, and take a few deliberate steps with her support. I suppose it follows that this isn’t her first rodeo.
Once I’m steadier on my feet, she steps back, looking up at me with a satisfied smirk. “Well! Kris! We’ve got time, before we have to get down to, y’know… the usual business. So, that stuff can wait. For now, I bet you’re as hungry as you are thirsty!” She turns, shuffling towards a door, out of the room, thick yellow tail peeking out from the back of her coat, wobbling behind her.
As I follow after her into the hallway, I finally bother to look down at myself. Clad in black boxer briefs, and an equally black sports bra, I’m as blue, smooth, and bony as ever. There’s muscle, but it’s a strange, gangly, unnaturally lean sort, forced by metabolic augments, fed by intravenous nutrient supplies, that ensure a baseline of physical fitness. Imagine a jacked skeleton, and you’re in the ballpark.
Well, at least I don’t have to go through physical therapy.
I look back up at Alphys, further ahead of me in the dimly lit, gray-black hallway, and she glances back. “So! What kinda movies you like, Kris?” she asks, voice echoing metallically against the walls.
I blink, tilting my head. “Uh…?”
2583-06-12 09:52
“It’ll be a good experience! G1’s an old friend of mine, we go way back. And, she’s told me a lot about the other Redguns! They seem… lively, eheh. Maybe you’ll make some friends, Kris?”
My handler’s chummy words echo in my head, as I creak and shuffle my way through the halls of, apparently, Balam’s newest outrider base, doing my best to avoid any more interpersonal contact than is strictly necessary. The only available scenery ahead of me raw steel and concrete, my eyes instead fixate on the floor at my feet, tracing patterns around the edges of the tile-work, vision lightly obstructed by my dark bangs, and the occasional puff of condensing breath escaping my mouth.
Damn, does it have to be so cold in here? Certainly Balam can afford heating. Anything to save a few credits, I guess. Though, I suppose this piece of prime Belius real estate is surrounded by miles of snow. It’s gonna be cold, situated snugly in the mountains here, in the middle of nowhere.
Is there anywhere on this planet that isn’t the middle of nowhere?
… No, that’s mean. People live here.
I idly trace fingertips along the wall to my right, the synthetic fabric of my glove playing against its roughness with satisfying, soft vibration. It’s easy to forget in my line of work, but not everyone is a cutthroat murderer, a handful of zeros away from willingly blowing up their own families. Tch, “Redgun pride.” As if these people are less a band of overpaid bullies than any other corporate goon squad. Then again… Who am I to talk? I mean, I guess I was volunteered for this profession, as opposed to most mercs and corporate elites. But…
As I engage in probably the hundredth internal debate I’ve had about my own culpability in the perpetuation of the military industrial complex, I vaguely register a large jumpsuited figure exiting a doorway ahead of me. Not lifting my gaze from its downward angle, I change trajectory to step around whoever this is and continue on my way. They’re probably some engineer, busy and heading somewhe-
“What, not even gonna say ‘hi,’ merc?”
I ignore the husky voice behind me, neither slowing or quickening my pace. Let them think I’m a zombie, they’ll get bored. I arguably am one, anyway.
A tongue clicks behind me, and a large hand roughly grips my left shoulder. I retract my hand from the wall, arm dropping limply to my side.
“Too good for that, or somethin’?”
The hand yanks, claws digging in. I turn with it, faster than my assailant wants or expects. The shoulder they were holding just a split second ago slams into their lower chest, earning a grunt and a curse. Their arms move to grapple, my arms move to confound, reacting by touch, keeping my assailant’s grip from gaining purchase. Sensing their growing frustration, I take advantage, shoving with both hands. Given their size, I push myself away more than I force them back.
Spinning on my heels, hands held up in front of me at the ready, I face my obstacle-turned-opponent. My gaze has to tilt upward to take in the full stature of the person—the monster—currently in front of me. An unruly mane of mauve hair halos the head and shoulders of this image of pure Redgun fury, intense yellow gaze practically burning through their bangs, pink-scaled muzzle full of wicked teeth, bared and frothing.
I sure am glad I didn’t let them grab me. They’d snap me like a twig.
Just as I think the enraged pilot is about to lunge at me, all of their aggression seems to just… vanish. They right themself, smoothing the front of the jacket that they’re wearing over their jumpsuit, which draws my eye to the nameplate on its left breast: G5 Aconcagua. She/her.
Well, that’s good. It always feels a bit awkward having to ask someone their pronouns immediately after you were just trying to kill each other. I look up at G5’s face just as she levels her eerily calm gaze upon me.
“Okay… Alright,” she says. The deceptively personable smirk that has replaced her snarl may be less immediately aggressive, but it drips with the same menace that laces her tone. “I can see your mamma forgot to teach you any manners. And, hey,” she lifts her hands in a shrug, “I can relate. Believe me.” She takes a step forward. I take a step back, hands still up. She tilts her head, looking down her snout at me, smirk turning into a wicked grin. “My mom was too disgusted by me to even keep me around, y’know?”
My stance falters slightly, as I give a few puzzled blinks in response to the oddly candid thing just said. “Uhm,” I croak, speaking for probably the first time since I got up this morning, “I’m… sorry?” I’m not sure if I’m apologizing for my behavior, or her tragic backstory.
It doesn’t seem to matter. “Oh, you’re sorry? Heh, nah. You think I’m garbage, don’t you, merc?” Another step forward. Another step back. “You obviously think I’m not even worth a glance. And, y’know, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been told that. Been hearin’ it all my life!”
I’m about to open my mouth to disagree, while quietly debating whether or not I should simply turn tail and flee. I should have debated faster. My world suddenly turns into a purple blur, and my back is slammed into something flat and hard.
If I were anyone normal, the wind would have been knocked clean out of me. Even as I am, I wheeze out a grunt, just barely managing to keep the back of my head from being cracked against the surface behind me. When I can finally process what just happened, I realize my back is pinned against the same wall I was running my fingers along only moments ago. Aconcagua’s vice-like grip holds me in place by the front of my dark gray bodysuit, as she casts a look of pure sadistic glee at me down the length of her left arm.
How the hell did she move so fast? I’m the fast one! What-
“But at least most of the time, people have the decency!-” she jostles me against the wall for emphasis, “to call me garbage to my face!”
Well, “snapped like a twig” it is, then.
I take stock of my situation, eyes darting around. I don’t think I’m getting my suit free of her grip, but I can try. I lift my legs up, trying to force her away with them, only for her to abruptly draw in close, pressing her weight against me, the hallway disappearing behind a canopy of bulk and hair. She shoves her face up next to mine, nearly touching, maw at my ear. I can hear—feel—the air rush into her flared nostrils.
“God, you even smell like fruit,” she says, her voice now hushed and thick, moist heat warming the side of my face and neck. I try to squirm. It’s futile. She chuckles softly. “Must live a charmed life. Your master’s prized little hound, all pretty and pampered. Though… apple? You’d think you’d smell like blueberry, with your skin lookin’ like that.”
This is, uhm.
Hm.
Okay, Kris, focus. The only way I’m getting out of this is if I encourage her to back off of her own will. I grope at her face with a hand, trying to gouge an eye, to inflict any kind of pain or unpleasantness, but she simply closes the eye and tilts her head, confident in her apparent invulnerability.
I furrow my brow, as my palm slides over an unexpected roughness. A good portion of the left side of her face is discolored, I notice, darker than the rest. Scarring? There’s some visible subdermal wiring, but I doubt Balam’s surgeons botch their work that hard. Curious...
She continues on, as if I weren’t distracted with wondering about things I probably shouldn’t be wondering about right now. “Why ya like that, anyway? You look like a half-drowned corpse.” Her lips part, her tongue tracing along her fangs audibly.
Her other hand is now at my throat.
Uh-oh.
It’s around my throat.
I’m starting to internalize the fact that I am, in fact, in serious danger.
Her hand is gripping.
My eyes widen, it’s getting hard to breath.
Her hand is squeezing.
My own hand twitches.
She chuckles cruelly. “I think I oughta finish the job.”
I have no choice but to-
“Susie.”
Both of our heads snap towards the direction of a new voice, scaled hand frozen tightly around my neck.
Just down the hall stands a large monster, even larger than Aconcagua. Some kind of dark gray wolf, wearing a simple outfit consisting of a white tank top and cargo pants, and with shoulders almost as wide as they are tall.
If the monster has any strong feelings about what they’re witnessing, they don’t show it, unflinching white eyes focused on G5. “What take so long?” they ask, voice deep and drawling, “Need to bring back merc. Boss getting impatient.”
Before I can fully process this new face—presumably another Redgun—I find myself unceremoniously dropped to the floor, my feet just barely finding purchase in time to keep me falling flat on my rear, as I clutch at my throat with a hand.
“Ah, just thought I’d haze them a little, y’know?” comes the voice of my assailant, gaining an air of nonchalance. I glance up at her, from my position still half-crouched against the wall, in time to see her shrug. “The boss can hold her damn horses.”
The large wolf seems to consider this for a moment, before nodding. “Okay. Ice Wolf tell her.” They turn to walk away.
Her eyes bugging out, G5’s composure disintegrates in an instant. “No, you idiot! Don’t…” Slapping a hand to her face, she groans. “Fine, fine, I’m coming, god. I was almost done, anyway...” She begins to leave, but stops to glance back at me. Glaring, she gestures in the direction of her compatriot. “After you, freak.”
Locking eyes with her for a slightly-too-long moment, I finally right myself, and begin walking ahead of her, reassuring myself that she’s probably not going to try to belly-to-back suplex me on the way to our destination. Probably.
Staring at the broad back of “Ice Wolf” ahead of me, I raise my hand to brush the hair out of my eyes. Naturally, it falls back into place immediately. I snap the same hand in the air with a flourish, and a long, slender knife appears in my palm.
From behind me comes the sound of stumbling boots and a muttered curse.
As I twirl the knife in my hand with practiced ease, I smirk a little smirk, for no one but me.
So much for making friends.
…
The big wolf monster bangs open a door, indistinguishable from any other we passed in the dull hallways. Walking through after, I find myself in… a lounge? Like, the kind you’d find in an office building, for employees. There’s a couple plain tables, a dusting of plastic chairs, and a counter lining one wall, complete with cupboards and the typical array of kitchen appliances. It’s the sort of place where you’d have a company potluck.
Balam’s really sparing no expense here.
Naturally, the room’s already occupied when we enter. The first person my eyes settle upon, as I stop a few paces from the door, is the one that stands out the most, on account of being a floating bedsheet ghost. Or, at least, that’s what the monster resembles. I know there’s some overcomplicated explanation for how the, ah… less physical sorts of monsters exist and function, but I’ll be god damned if they aren’t a little baffling to look at in person. Or look through, to be more accurate. This one’s just a straight-up phantasm, the only physical thing about them being the name plate that is, somehow, attached to where their chest would be. G3 Bogda. He/him.
Before I can tear my eyes away from the literal ghost, the voice of the room’s other waiting occupant booms, startling me a little. “Well, it’s about damn time! I guess now we know how many Redguns it takes to find one pilot.”
My eyes turn to the one speaking, as they get up from their seat at a table, cheap chair scraping along the tiled floor. Rising to their full height, my eyes widen, as I register her lanky form. Any AC pilot who knows anything about anything would recognize the living legend standing before me.
Gun One Ebott, the Hero of Jupiter herself. Or butcher, depending on who you ask. Her unzipped jumpsuit tied around her waist, she otherwise just wears a black tank top, showing off her sapphire scales and toned physique. Her yellow eyes gazing down at me immediately remind me of G5’s, but Ebott’s toothy grin has a lot less malice behind it. At least, I think. I’m not a mind reader.
Speaking of Aconcagua, she stalks past me, not deigning to look at me. She makes a beeline for the refrigerator, opening it to peer inside, as the wolf leans against the far wall, arms crossed.
G1 quickly approaches me, extending a hand, her red ponytail trailing behind her. “Gun Thirteen!” She claps her hand on my shoulder, my eyes flicking between it and her noseless face. “Sorry to interrupt your self-guided tour, but I figured we’d do a little meet-and-greet before the festivities.” She tilts her head towards G5. “Either you’re really good at hiding, or Aconcagua’s even more incompetent than I thought!”
A dismissive snort comes from the direction of the fridge. “Dunno why they were wandering around like that in the first place…”
Before I can open my mouth to respond to anyone, the wolf speaks up. “I think Susie find newbie quickly. But then Susie pin newbie to wall.”
There’s a thud from the fridge as Aconcagua bangs her head against its ceiling while whipping around to growl at the wolf, who barely reacts. Ebott simply throws her head back and cackles. “Damn, G5, when I told you to pick them up, that’s not what I meant!”
Tensing, I look at the floor, my face… warming? Shit, really? Is that what I’m doing right now? Blushing? G5, seeming to not fare much better, sputters, slamming the refrigerator door. “Th-that’s not…! Hazing! It was hazing! I just was roughing ‘em up a little, you fuckin’…!” she finishes her statement with an irritated groan.
Ebott plants her hands on her hips, her fin-like ears flicking with amusement. “Oh! So, then, you’re admitting to assaulting a fellow Redgun? That’s how many times now? You’re lucky I hate paperwork too much to get you court-martialed.”
Aconcagua makes a fist, shaking it at Ebott. “Yeah, you’d best not give me a reason to take another swing at-”
“Gun Four!” G1 barks.
Without a word, the wolf—G4 apparently—is upon his angry comrade, throwing an arm around her neck, as if threatening a noogie. “Susie calm, now.”
As G5 snarls out expletives and tries to extract herself from the wolf’s burly embrace, Ebott finally rounds back on me, crossing her arms as she leans back against a table. “So, yeah, you’ve had the displeasure of meeting G5 Aconcagua. She mostly exists to run up repair bills and keep the engineers employed.” She thrusts a thumb back towards the other two. “Her large compatriot there is G4 Kilimanjaro. He just calls himself ‘Ice Wolf,’ though, not much for keeping track of callsigns. Good pilot, doesn’t ask too many questions. I can’t ask for more. And finally we have…” G1 glances back, and then around. “Hey… G3, where’d you go?”
She looks up, and I look up with her. I didn’t even notice, but apparently Bogda not only relocated to the corner of the room at some point, but floated up near the ceiling as well. G1 waves him towards us. “C’mon! What are you doin’ up there?”
The apparition hesitantly comes back down, and towards us, his two simple black eyes flicking towards the tussling brawlers across the room. “i, uhm, thought there might be a fight,” comes an otherworldly, yet soft, voice. “so, i thought i'd give everyone space…”
“There’s always about to be a fight,” G1 snarks. “Aren’t you used to it already?” Bogda seems to just fidget nervously, as much as a vague specter can, so Ebott looks at me again. “This is G3 Bogda. Don’t let his demeanor fool you, this guy can pull some wild shit in a pilot’s seat. Hell of a programmer, too. He’s practically a lead engineer!”
“oh… i'm not that good… it’s just a hobby...” G3 just fidgets with redoubled nervousness. He immediately seems like the type who doesn’t take compliments very well.
I know how that is.
“Don’t give me that, Bogda!” G1, either confident that that settles it, or not caring, shoves off of the table and steps up beside me. “Alright everyone, lemme formally introduce this merc, and we can be on our way!”
Before I know it, I’m being practically grappled into a vice-like one-armed hug, as Ebott presents me to the room. I feel my face warm yet again. How many huge people work here, anyway? It’s like Balam insists on hiring bodybuilders. Aconcagua seems to have extracted herself from Kilimanjaro at some point, and glares at us from her sulking position back near the fridge.
“This here,” G1 jostles me for emphasis, “is G13 Angel! You’ve all heard the briefing, so I shouldn’t have to tell you that they’ll be joining us on the dam mission. Their usual employer is a trusted contact of mine, and has assured me that they could probably get the job done solo if they had to!” Hm, yep, I’m not taking the compliment well. I twitch, and glance away from everyone, as the Redgun commander continues. “I’ve got reason to believe it, too, so don’t let them embarrass you out there,” she says, chuckling.
She releases my shoulders, and I let out a breath, as Aconcagua snorts incredulously. “Fuckin’… Angel? Really? I knew you were up your own ass.” I look at her, narrowing my eyes. Does she… know? The Angels aren’t exactly common knowledge. I guess I can act like it’s an innocent coincidence, if it comes down to it.
She grins, looking at G1. “Hey, boss, maybe I should change to G5 God. Or maybe G5 Satan. I think that’s got a nice ring to it. Whaddaya think, wolf?” I relax a little. She just thinks I’m pretentious. I’ll take it.
“You’re gonna be G5 Benchwarmer if you don’t watch your damn mouth already!” Ebott cackles again, earning a chuckle from the wolf, and an eye-roll from the lizard. “Alright, meet-n-greet is over! We move out in 1300. Make sure you eat and take a piss, cuz there won’t be any pit stops. And, G13!”
As the others shuffle—and float—out of the room, I look up at piscine legend as she claps her hand on my shoulder again. “Be a good little merc, and try not to wander off again. I don’t want to disappoint our… mutual acquaintance when I have to tell her I misplaced her favorite new hound.” She clicks her cheek and winks at me.
I avert my gaze and let out a weak little hum of confirmation, as my face warms for the third time. I just barely catch Aconcagua’s smug expression cast back at me as she exits the room, Ebott’s words clearly confirming some of her earlier suspicions.
This place is a god damn circus. I think I need to go hide in a closet for a while.
2583-04-02 11:07
One, and two, and three, and four…
My arms move, its arms move, to the next preprogrammed position. Extended, palms forward.
One, and two, and three, and four…
My arms cross, its arms cross, as if defending. I imagine as if its are mine, and mine are its.
One, and two, and three, and four…
My palms touch, its palms touch, as if praying. As I’ve done a hundred times before.
One, and two, and three, and four…
My fingers lace, its fingers lace, as if scheming. My eyes are closed, I know the motions by heart.
One, and two, and three, and four…
My palms raise to my face, its palms raise to its “face,” as if remembering what we’ve done.
My eyes open, I gaze out the open cockpit, past my hands. At my other hands. They stay still, and so do I, as if afraid to move.
Afraid to break the illusion that if I did move, it would move too. Because I’m it. It’s me.
I can feel it, through the ports, the side of my neck sending and receiving sensory data meant to alert me to impacts and errors and damage, but providing a sense of proprioception that is not my own but I so so so dearly want it to be.
To be something else.
Anything but-
Metallic clacks and squeals bring my moment to its inevitable close. My fingers curl into fists and I lower my arms. LOADER 4 remains tragically still. I lean forward off of the pilot seat, bracing my hands on the edge of the open cockpit and looking down upon the lower walkway of this tiny hangar.
It’s cozy, in a way, I guess.
Alphys, the door hydraulically hissing shut behind her, looks up at me with a grin and a casual wave, a tablet tucked under one arm. “So! How do you like her?” she calls up at me.
This thing needs an everything replacement. I give her a thumbs up.
“I know, it’s not much…” Seeming to read my mind—she’s alarmingly good at that—she steps into a small lift. “You’d probably like it a lot more if we weren’t working planet-side.” Hitting the controls, she starts rising to the cockpit-level catwalk. “The frame was made for zero-g environments,” she says, voice raised over the whirring of the lift. “But, the parts were cheap and easy to get in bulk, so…” She shrugs, with another one of her awkward grins.
I sit back in the cockpit again, looking around. That would explain some of the functions. Not that full omnidirectional attitude controls are useless on a planet’s surface, but they’re a bit overkill.
After the lift stops making noise, I look up to see Alphys approaching, now fiddling with the screen of her tablet. She stops, leaning against the catwalk railing. “So, when you have the money for it, what do you think you’ll swap out first?” she asks, her tail swaying casually through the guard rails.
“Internals,” I say without much hesitation. I flip through settings and diagnostics on a readout display, now on the hunt for any extraneous zero-g features I could disable or remove to reduce weight and energy draw. I assumed I could just feel my way through this, but I might need to look up the tech specs sooner rather than later. “Generator, FCS, Booster,” I specify. Probably in that exact order.
Alphys barks out a laugh. “Right, sure, but after that?”
I stop, considering. Weapons would be the smart answer here, but… I have to be honest with myself. “Legs. Reverse-joints.” They’re called that, but, really, they’re more like digitigrade, with the lower third of the leg being analogous to the upper foot of, say, a dog’s back leg. I think the terminology is a holdover from the early MT days, when they really were just plantigrade bipeds but with the knees bending in reverse.
She looks up from her tablet with a grin. “Oh-ho, an RJ fan, huh?”
I nod, returning to my readout. “It’s the schmovement.” Far from the only, or arguably even main, reason… but, I’m not about to admit that out loud.
She chuckles. Her eyes flick down, with a more thoughtful expression. “Don’t they… feel kinda weird for you, though?”
“No,” I respond, once again leaving out the whole truth. The way the proprioception feedback works, the lower third of the reverse-joint leg matches up to my foot, and the RJ’s foot matches up to my toes. I have to be pretty mindful of subtle differences in the locations of feedback signals to have an idea of where the AC’s legs are receiving an impact, since the proportions don’t line up closely by any stretch. That said, I have a lot of experience with them at this point, and, well… “I’m used to them,” I conclude.
Alphys seems to consider this for a moment, and then shrugs matter-of-factly. “Well, hopefully, we can find the Coral, and you won’t have to deal with this hunk of junk for too long.” I stop what I’m doing again, glancing up at her. She gestures. “Just imagine, this time next year, you’ll probably be out of here, with a pile of money. And then you can…” she vaguely indicates me with a wave of one hand, “fix yourself up. And stuff.”
I sit up, looking at her fully, brow furrowing. “What… do you mean?”
She looks at me in turn. “Y… y’know, undo all the surgery and crap. Be normal again.”
I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. I want to laugh. I almost do. “Why would I ever want that?”
My handler is taken aback. By my standards, what I just said constitutes an impassioned speech. She tilts her head quizzically. “You… don’t want that?”
I shake my head. I look around the cockpit, and then out the front, past Alphys. I raise my hands slightly, palms towards myself, just like the pose LOADER 4 is still frozen in. “I… like this.” I draw a breath in through my nose, and sigh, lowering my hands, looking down at them. “I like… being augmented. Being a pilot. It…” I gather my thoughts. I didn’t expect to have to speak this much. Alphys graciously gives me time, watching me with a look that blends concern with curiosity. I glance up at her. “It feels right. I don’t… want to be ‘normal.’” My gaze returns to my hands, now resting in my lap. “Not ever again.”
Shifting towards me, Alphys nods thoughtfully, lips pursed. “… Alright. Well, uhm… you’d still have a pile of COAM, and no obligations! So, that’d probably be... fun?” She shrugs, seeming to be at something of a loss.
Well… I guess some freedom would be nice. But… that’s a prize for people who actually deserve it.
It’s a chance I squandered long ago.
Shrugging as well, I look aside at the readout again. My eyes seem to slide off the symbols, however. As I stare into the softly glowing screen, my mind envisions a red orb. My left forearm hurts.
The yellow lizard monster on the catwalk makes some sounds that don’t quite sound like complete sentences. I don’t pay her any mind, until… “Oh, hey, Kris. You know…” comes her voice, slicing more cleanly into my train of thought.
I look up at her.
She’s messing with her tablet again, wearing a self-assured grin for some reason. “I have it on good authority that RaD is releasing some new parts on the market soon, and… well, I got a sneak peak, if you wanna take a look? You won’t see this on the usual sources.”
It’s my turn to tilt my head quizzically, as she leans into the cockpit to hand the tablet to me. RaD produced LOADER 4’s frame, so I’m not sure why their catalog is something to be extra excited about, but… my handler is looking oddly confident all of a sudden.
I take the tablet, furrowing my brow as I scroll through the information loaded on its browser.
She’s not kidding, this is a pretty substantial boost to their catalog. Quite the varied collection, too. Is that… a gun made up of thirteen smaller guns? What? And… a “missile” launcher, that basically launches an aerial drone that goes on strafing runs?
Okay, I won’t lie, this has me smirking a little. These guys have more… creativity than I expected.
Scrolling past a couple more reasonable-looking missile launchers, and some boosters, I’m about ready to hand the tablet back…
And then the final entry rolls onto the screen.
My smirk fades, wiped clean by a wave of sheer awe.
Legs. The feet bear a stylistic resemblance to LOADER 4’s current legs, but that’s where the similarities end. A pair of powerful-looking thighs top these limbs. The knees are bent back so severely that the mid-legs points back up again, before giving way to long, sleek, yet sturdy-looking lower legs. My eyes trace over the robust, yet elegant, form, and then again. I think I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.
RaD’s future, and only, reverse-joint offering: the RC-2000 SPRING CHICKEN.
The awe gives way to gleeful wonder, as I peruse the specs. My god, they can carry so much. How the hell did they pull that off, and still maintain all that articulation? The kind of power needed, these things must kick like five thousand mules. The attitude stability leaves something to be desired, but that’s to be expected. I can work around that.
I will work around that.
I must have these legs!
I finally tear my eyes away to look up at Alphys, and am met with her self-satisfied grin, as she continues leaning into the cockpit, resting on her folded arms. “Right?” she says, quirking her brow. “Pretty good, huh?”
I’m practically vibrating, bouncing in the pilot seat. I try to contain myself, but it’s a losing battle. I can’t stop myself from smiling. “Alphys, I need those legs. When are they coming out?”
She chuckles. “Probably not for a few months.” I’d pout about that, but I’m already looking at the tablet again, tracing my fingertips over the designs, as if I could reach in and pull them into reality through sheer force of will. “But tell you what,” Alphys continues, “as soon as they get some functioning virtual data ready, I’ll make sure we get it. Alright?”
I look up at her again. I don’t think I can look any more exuberant than I already do. Can… can I hug her? Would that be weird? That’d probably be weird, right?
I settle for simply saying, “Yeah, alright,” sounding almost as if I’m out of breath. I glance between her and the tablet another time or two, before realizing I probably have to hand it back to her. So I do.
“I’ll send you the catalog data,” she says as she takes the tablet back and rights herself. The AC’s feedback signals release a slight sense of pressure from my chest. “Might have some more detailed design docs too, I’ll check. And, uh, Kris…”
I look at her expectantly, my expression softening along with her tone.
“… It’s kinda late. Get some rest, okay?”
I glance around, before finding the right readout. Yeah, wow, when did it become midnight? I nod, reluctantly but dutifully pulling the plugs out of my neck ports, as Alphys turns to trundle back to the lift.
Normally, the loss of the AC’s feedback would leave me feeling a little hollow, but this time, my mind can only think about those specs and designs.
I might be awake a little later than I should be, tonight.
…
The door to the hangar closes behind Alphys, as she begins to make her way back to her workshop. Her lingering self-satisfaction at her new ward’s reaction to RaD’s catalog gives way to dwelling on what came just before that. When she brought up the future, and they just…
Shut down.
The way they dug their fingers into their left forearm, like their life depended on it, but like they didn’t even realize they were doing it... If she hadn’t thought quickly and distracted them, she’s afraid they would have broken skin. Maybe even more, given their augments.
She sighs, shaking her head, as she pushes through another heavy door. It’s always something, with Gen Fours.
2583-06-12 13:32
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sadly, it ends here. Please consult the end notes.)
Notes:
The intention was to end this chapter with the dam mission. And it would be the variant, so the RLF would call halfway through asking for Kris to switch sides. Already lowkey annoyed with Susie and the Redguns for reasons, Kris would accept the offer, and tell them they have a plan.
Susie and Ice Wolf would reach the area of the final generator, finding all of the RLF forces fallen back there and grouped up along with Kris. As soon as they get close, they all open fire and focus on the ice, shattering it under the Redguns. Ice Wolf would sink like a rock (he survives but isn't much use for the ensuing fight) but Susie would manage to recover. Kris would jump in, along with whatever UT/DR character is replacing Index Dunham, and they all battle across broken ice floes while talking shit, until Susie finally gets forced to eject and flee.
It woulda been sick I wish I wrote it.
I wish I had the gumption to do more with this in general, but I do not. The problem is that I just had no idea where I was going with the plot overall? I'll talk about that more in the following "chapter," though.
Thanks for reading what I did write, though. I'm still pretty proud of it. Writing Kris in first person is so much fucking fun, and I was thirsty to do more of it after finishing This Is Your Brain On Acid. I was brain rotting about AC6 at the time, and I couldn't help but compare two mindfucked dog-themed nonbinary protagonists who lack autonomy, and from there my brain started constructing the AU against my will.
But, yeah, check out my extended plans and art in the next "chapter."
Chapter 2: What I Was Planning
Chapter Text
Alright, so.
Let's start with some concept art. I only really got three images to share.
The first quick and crude attempt at Kris. Not my best work but I enjoyed giving them a hood. I like giving them hoods.
Ralsei! He's not a robot though, not really. If you couldn't immediately imagine, he takes the place of Ayre in this story, so he's a C-Pulse Wave Mutation. He likes to fuss around and customize his own (normal person-sized) robot bodies during downtime, even though he doesn't need them to exist. He hones in on wanting to resemble a boss monster, much to Kris' mild consternation. Still, they can't help but enjoy helping him fiddle with robot bodies that exist purely for the fun of it.
A vastly more high-effort attempt at Kris. Their outfit here is a mix of a couple different pilot suits from the Gundam franchise, as well as Raiden's suit from Metal Gear Solid 2. This likely would have been the final design. The hood is still there, it's just hanging in the back. I'm still really proud of this.
Now for what my grander plans were. I knew I wanted to stick to the actual plot of AC6 fairly closely for that game's first chapter, with the narration jumping around various points in time and embellishing as I please. But then things would start going off the rails once the story got into AC6's second chapter. Kris would wind up dealing with the mission to stop the Coyotes' hacking attempt, which naturally would end with Susie showing up to make things difficult. And then, just like in that mission, Ghosts show up and the two of them have to join forces to fight them. However, something would go wrong, and the two of them would end up blasted off of the upper part of the grid and falling to different sections of a lower level, where their ACs would be too damaged to reliably use due to both the fight and the fall, forcing them both to get out and go it on foot. This is extra bad for Kris on account of them suffering from a not-insignificant case of megalophobia, which is only alleviated when in a mech cockpit where they can feel "normal sized" compared to all the constructions. This is my child, they have every disorder.
What would follow is Kris, with Ralsei in their head, trying to figure out a way out of this mess while Susie is actively stalking them to try and tear their head off and Kris is trying very hard not to think about their surroundings too much. Susie finally corners them in a confined space, and things seem bad... until The Warrior (who is taking "Invincible" Rummy's role) who was presumed dead busts through a wall like the fucking Cool-aid Man and once again forces the two to contend together with a foe who, on foot, massively outclasses both of them.
Thankfully, The Warrior isn't exactly out for blood. Somehow the situation ends with The Warrior getting the other two high as fuck on Coral drugs. This results in a silly bonding scenario, where Susie even gets to formally meet Ralsei because the drugs make it so she can hear more than just an annoying ringing sound. After all this, Susie decides to let Kris go... for now, with some dramatic declaration about them being enemies again next time.
Aside from that, I didn't have a lot of super concrete ideas. The working title of this was "Watchpoint Deltarune," and I intended for the gang to eventually turn Watchpoint Delta into a home base. Susie of course would eventually go from bitter rival to a more friendly sort, it'd just take longer than it does in Deltarune. You might think "why the fuck did you replace Walter with Alphys," and... well, the honest answer is I love Alphys and all the ways she sucks and I wanted her to have a consistent major role. But beyond just that reason, I also thought the interactions she has with Kris in Deltarune were really charming, particularly whenever she gets really frank with them or gets that weirdly confident grin on her face. They're also both huge nerds whether Kris wants to admit that or not. I imagined them developing into a strong close friendship (I do not ship them romantically really) that resembles one of those pairs of characters from The Venture Bros. You know the ones, where they're constantly having stupid-as-fuck arguments about media and pop culture. They'd spend a lot of downtime playing video games and watching shows and movies.
The choice of Alphys actually had a grander purpose by way of relative character relations. Walter and Michigan were friends, so replacing Michigan with Undyne just seemed like a no-brainer. Similarly, Sans would replace Carla, which also holds up pretty firmly with whatever connection there might have been between Alphys and Sans in Undertale. Everything else spiraled out from there. Alphys, she's the key to everything...
And Kris. Oh Kris. If you couldn't sorta guess from the first segment, Kris is actually a former member of Branch who was lost and presumed dead after something went terribly wrong. Branch was made up of the Dreemurrs, plus Dess and Noelle. As you'd expect, Dess was also lost in that incident. The incident likely had something to do with not just Coral, but specifically some kind of localized Coral Release that sorta fucked up reality a little bit. Oops. I never hashed out the exact details, though. At any rate, the result is Kris accepting their fate as a glorified after-market AC part due to self-loathing and a desperate need for atonement, as they blame themself for the incident. Alphys, by way of acting like a relatively normal person by Armored Core standards, inadvertently gives them a space to decompress and start healing. But, of course, the plot must also happen to them.
Not that I have any real clue what that plot was gonna be. I had vague thoughts of the gang needing to go around Rubicon to various places to... I dunno, find other wave mutations like Ralsei (Darkners take these roles. So no Queen is not ALLMIND or anything like that, sorry) and try to figure out what the fuck The Incident even was and how to unfuck reality, since clearly there's a hell of a lot more active wave mutations, and a bunch of the monster characters have them as head-buddies where their respective characters in AC6 absolutely did not. It's as if Coral Release kind of happened, but didn't finish all the way, and now everything is in a nebulous in-between state.
Ralsei in this story, being a mostly unkillable red spec hanging out with one of the baddest AC pilots there is, would honestly just get to chill and have a lot of fun, as a treat. Without some dipshit prophecy hanging over his head, he'd have a lot more freedom to find interests and discover who he is. He'd still probably be stuffed full of data, though, which could cause some distress at times. Also he would be, yknow, concerned about the plot, and the matter of other wave mutations.
Noelle, after the incident, would have limped back to Carol with an utterly broken spirit. Carol would naturally be filling in the role of Snail. Which means Dess basically said "fuck you and fuck Arquebus" and dragged Noelle off to go join Branch. And now Carol gets to be like, "Well, now see how that turned out?"
Oh yeah, you probably noticed the different callsigns for the Redguns. Well, my plan was to swap out the naming schemes. Because calling, for instance, Undyne "G1 Michigan" would be really confusing. So, since the Redguns are named after rivers and bodies of water in AC6, I switched it up to them being named after major mountains found in similar regions. My favorite thing about this was how this resulted in replacing "Iguazu" with "Aconcagua." The joke goes from calling G5 "Iguana" to calling Susie "Anaconda." The Vespers are named after psychologists and philosophers in AC6 (with the exception of Rusty of course) so I decided to instead name them after famous programmers and cryptologists. For the RLF, I'd continue the joke with Gerson's name and name them after various accomplished Smash Bros. players, though I never figured out who would be called what. I honestly hadn't really figured out how I'd switch out the RaD nicknames, or what exactly I was doing with characters outside of the major factions. Though instead of there being Ravens, there'd be Angels.
From here I'll just kinda briefly list out who is filling what roles.
G1 Ebott - Undyne - AC: UNDYING - Honest to crap this is barely a personality change. Undyne is a bit nicer and less crude but Michigan-like dialog sounds pretty natural coming out of her. Also I know Ebott isn't a real mountain but it feels appropriate for it to be somewhere in the Great Lakes region.
G2 Ras Dashen - Greater Dog - AC: EXCITER - Not a big deal but I needed someone here, and figured another major Royal Guard should go here. For future examples where I don't have much to say, I just won't say anything.
G3 Bogda - Napstablook - AC: NOT FEELING IT
G4 Kilimanjaro - Ice Wolf - AC: JIMMY HOTPANTS - I think I'd be kind to him and not kill him. Though he'd just kinda fuck off and get into photography so he can take lots of pictures of snowy mountains and frozen rivers and lakes.
G5 Aconcagua - Augmented Monster C4-769 - Susie - AC: THRASH MACHINE
G6 Denali - Papyrus - AC: COOL DUDE - Some of this shit just writes itself. He fills in for Red so damn well. He's a great pilot but tries to be too non-violent so he gets a nice liaison job.
G7 Nanga Parbat - M.K. - AC: CRUCIFIXTURE - Appropriately, they already fell flat on their face before the plot even began. They might not be dead, but I'm not sure where they'd pop up.
V.I Turing - Noelle Holiday - AC: UNKNOWN SPELL - Turing, yeah? Haha. Turing. Turing. Anyway, she's a TERRIFYING pilot on the same level as Kris and similar. She comes up with the most insane part combinations that draw out synergies most wouldn't even begin to consider. Basically: she runs a competitive meta build of her own design. Also similar to Kris is the fact she's sorta just given up on having any autonomy. Somehow STILL manages to attain a crush on Susie, through studying Redgun dossiers. Is eventually simultaneously overjoyed and pissed at finding Kris alive.
V.II Markov - Carol Holiday - AC: TERRIBLE CRISIS - Yeah. Even before chapters 3 and 4 came out, this was a easy choice.
V.III von Neumann - Q.C. - AC: ON THE HOUSE - Not sure what possessed me to make Q.C. a jaded intelligence officer but it works in my head for some reason.
V.IV Catti - AC: BLACK MAGIC - Here's our Rusty. I like the idea of her and Kris hitting it off over just being a pair of taciturn weirdos. The rest of her family is somewhere safe with the other Rubiconians. She seems oddly concerned about Noelle...
V.V Shannon - Rudy Holiday - AC: KICKER - Another one of those things that kinda wrote itself, since Hawkins felt like some kind of father figure, and Rudy would probably be content just sitting at rank V and acting as a mentor.
V.VI Nash - Aaron - AC: FLEX ON - Actually pretty creative in his AC building, if for weird reasons. As my notes say: "If V.IV is the backup ace, then V.VI is the backup for her."
V.VII Morgenstern - Shyren - AC: HARMONY - Uses a lot of pulse technology because of course.
V.VIII Carmack - Berdly - AC: APEX WIND - Ahaha, fuck, I'm proud of this choice of callsign. Competent, but mostly because he steals the ideas of more creative compatriots. Which mostly means Noelle. Rudy's protege, somewhat to his chagrin.
A couple RLF entries:
“Grandpa” Gerson Boom - AC: HAMMER OF JUSTICE - It's Gerson. He acts Gerson-y. He's wise to the weird shit going on, but is also trying to figure it out fully. One thing that fucks with my head is how in AC6, Ring Freddy is outright stated to be fucking Dolmayan. So uuuuuuuh... not a god damn clue who'd be taking Freddy's place, haha...
“Father” Alvin Boom - AC: GATHER ‘ROUND - It's Alvin. He's alright I guess.
RaD. Everything past here I didn't really figure out new callsigns or AC names.
"Cinder" Carla -> Sans - I mean come the fuck on. I imagine his lazyness would make the first mission of AC6's second chapter funny, as Kris sorta just waltzes through a bunch of really half-assed defenses. Though he might also have more foresight than Carla, figuring that Kris would just wreck a bunch of stupid MTs anyway. He'd still manage to do things to piss Kris off though just through sheer annoyance.
"Chatty" Stick -> Chatty! - I decided the AIs in the story are actually just the direct AC6 characters. All of them have a weird feeling something isn't right...
"Honest" Brute -> Mettaton - Who of course has a robot body that even his Undertale counterpart could only dream of. A bit more reasonable than Brute, but only kinda.
"Invincible" Rummy -> The Warrior - As previously stated. I feel like this explains itself.
Rubicon Research Institute:
Professor Nagai -> Gaster. Naturally he doesn't get any "onscreen" play and is a very vague figure.
Assistant No. 1 -> I dunno. The one who went kinda crazy with the research in AC6, and was also Walter's father. That'd make this character a parent of Alphys? He doesn't really show up outside of some documents so I could just be vague about him too.
Assistant No. 2 -> In AC6 this is actually Carla, so you do the math. See how nicely all these character relations work out?
Sulla -> Chara. You might think, what the fuck is Sulla's position doing here? He worked for ALLMIND, right? Well in this story, this position is vastly more ominous. Kris meets them at Watchpoint Delta just like in AC6, but rather than fighting to the death, they instead mess with Kris' head while saying a bunch of cryptic shit and then disappearing. And then Alphys claims she didn't see or hear any communications despite being patched in the whole time. Turns out they're a human who somehow got converted into a C-pulse wave mutation back when the original fires happened. Because back then in this story, there was also a minor localized Coral release, which they got caught up in before the fires stopped it from going further. I dunno where I was going with this idea but I always found Sulla extra spooky, like there should be even more going on with him than simply working for ALLMIND, and I wanted to make that real. Chara seemed fitting for this, as a born narrative-haunter.
Branch:
King -> Do I even have to say it? After the incident, Asgore naturally made some dumbass decisions.
Chartreuse -> Asriel. He decided to stick with dear old dad, I guess. Or perhaps she decided. Trans Asriel amuses me.
Raven's Operator -> Toriel. Unlike the operator in AC6, Toriel fucked off after the incident and whatever dumbass decisions Asgore made, and is now making her own moves. Some things remain constant. I'm not entirely certain how she gets from here to tipping the corporations off about the Coral on Rubicon III, though. Something more convoluted probably happened cuz I don't think she'd just do that.
Raven -> Frisk. Going by "Angel," of course. Toriel would have met them after defecting from Branch. Kris is going to figure out they're human and be like "holy shit did you fucking replace me??"
Special mention to Dess. I hadn't figured out what was going on with her. I was kinda thinking of going with some theory ideas I had from before chapters 3 and 4 came out, where she's still kinda attached to Kris in some vague and strange way. Like she got turned into a wave mutation but in an even more messed up kind of way.
Others:
ALLMIND -> Just like Chatty, ALLMIND is just ALLMIND. She has some kind of awareness of the other AC6 story paths. Perhaps its just because she did a bunch of simulations, or maybe there's something spookier to that knowledge. Regardless, the story is essentially on a newfangled 4th path, and ALLMIND is aware that trying to just directly fight Kris and pals as part of her plan is suicide, so now she's finagling some more insidious route to taking control of Coral release. I never came up with details, though.
Nosaac -> Burger/Pizzapants. Quite a bit more of a problem than you'd expect due to the fact he somehow stumbled into contact with the wave mutation known as Spamton. Kris meets him somewhere before or during AC6's second chapter, and it's very weird and upsetting.
I guess that's everyone I care to mention...? I guess I'll leave off on some final thoughts.
If I did return to this concept, I think I'd put more effort into figuring out what life and culture on Rubicon III really looks like. Certainly there are functioning settlements that are more than just depressing gray bricks. Maybe even cities. Maybe even a night life. Gotta have something to do when getting high on Coral drugs. I'd like to put a bit more emphasis on the downtime of Kris and others. Kris should be at the club, and by god they're going to the club. Also other places I guess.
I rated this fic Mature for this posting, but I'm not gonna lie to you: the complete version of this would have been Explicit. Hell, the only reason I rated this Mature is because I'm talking about it being Explicit here. Otherwise I would have just called it Teen. I wouldn't bend over backwards to make explicit scenes occur frequently, but when they did I wouldn't shy away from the details. Oh also I'd take that bit in Deltarune where Kris handles a car magazine like is a porn magazine and run to the hills with it, making them a flat-out mechanophile. What, did you think they were gonna stay up late just calmly looking at schematics? All I'm saying is, there's a lot you could do with dermal ports and robots (giant or otherwise) and AIs and Coral drugs and C-pulse wave mutations and advanced prosthetics and potent medicine and etc etc. Also jumpsuits are hot I'm sorry.
Now that I've left you with that last bit of commentary, I hope you have a wonderful day or evening. Thank you for reading. :3