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Avalon, Inner Ring, March 5th 2015, 3:13 PM, UN Headquarters

The chamber was filled with mutterings, bickering, and so much more. "CACHE needs to mass produce more of their Artificial Fae to serve as military soldiers!" "Absurd, doing so while the Eldritchians are still a threat runs the unnecessary risk of them being exposed to the public." "Who cares, they're just stupid monsters anyways! Can't be hard to convince the public we have complete control."

That's when a massive holographic sphere opens in the center of the room. Everyone going quiet, nine figures begin to appear inside the sphere. The nine looking over the room, a North American representative suddenly speaks.

"The CACHE Council, we have called for your attendance today to discuss organization business. As you're no doubt aware, Hochste Einmal's numbers have continued to increase. The public-"

Interrupting him is the gray coated figure, speaking with an emotionless voice " Has began worrying about and doubting our motives for researching Eldritchians. If you're so inclined to inform us of what we already know, then do continue."

This time a Russian stands up and speaks. "We have been discussing things that could be done to assure the public. However all proposed objectives, such as releasing more of the meteorite technology or allowing non-CACHE use of your Eldritchian projects, have been deemed... unsafe."

The gray figure turning to the white one in a bridal dress, he steps back as he motions the flaming red figure to approach. Cracking their head side-to-side, an artificially deep voice booms.

" It would indeed be too dangerous to publicize such matters. However rumors have already been spreading that we have captured live Eldritchians or even produced our own. The longer we try to deny it, the more they'll grow suspicious. No citizen wants to fear the Eldritchians being weaponized against humanity. Thus we have been ordering the creation of Puppets with Eldritch biology to show to the public in two weeks."

The room suddenly bursts into noise, with so many protesting the plan. One by one the figures begin to disappear, with only the gray and white ones left. Looking over the room, the gray figure speaks once more. " We will be using recent Eldritchian biology such as the 'Nether Hunter' to give the impression we've only started recently. In addition we will claim it is a specially designed mutation. Of course I don't believe all will be convinced, but it should quiet some of them. We're all very busy people, so let's get back to what we do hmm?"

With that the two disappear as well, with the holographic sphere vanishing. With some looking outraged, others stunned, and a few just quietly thinking one sighs. "Cornelius Senior, why doesn't he ever listen to anyone?" Another kneading their forehead, they reply. "He's been with CACHE since the very beginning. He knows what he's doing, though perhaps he should be replaced. Unless he's been using their own products on himself can't be much longer until he becomes senile. Eighty-seven years old, would anyone believe the Head of CACHE is that old?"

Hearing a loud banging echo through the room, individuals look forward as a voice calls out "With the matter of CACHE dealt with for now, let us discuss the planetary escape plans."

Avalon, Outer Ring, CACHE Surveillance Outpost, March 15th, 7:21 AM

Tired eyes blinking, a forty-five year old man yawns. "My replacement didn't come... Wonder if a mutant got her. God, where the hell did those eldritch monsters even come from? Bad enough having to exist in this time, but sitting here watching for them to fall from the sky? Must of done something wrong..."

Hearing the door behind him slowly open, he turns back to see a twenty-two year old woman. Tiredly stretching out his body, he speaks as he gets up "What took you so long Erica? Did Melissa want something again?"

Looking away slightly embarrassed, she speaks after a few seconds "No, I was just helping out David Goff with stuff for his sisters." Closing his eyes and lightly nodding, the man walks past Erica.

Looking back as he leaves, Erica hears him call out "Its adorable when you're embarrassed." Slightly offended by his comment, Erica simply signs. Turning to look at the screen showing footage from space, she calmly approaches it. However, before she can sit down she notices a pod zoom past Mars. Eyes widening at realizing what it is, she immediately presses a button. Warning sirens going off for ten seconds, her eyes remain glued to the screen to keep track of the Eldritchian pod.

St. John's, Newfoundland

October 2nd, 2003

There were many sounds she could hear that day - and all of them were loud. The klaxon screeched, the citywide assault alarm implemented in '96 to help warn citizens of a possible Eldritchian attack. The cracks of gunfire - in addition to the dull thuds of explosions and collapsing buildings, and the almost unreal sounds only attributable to energy weapons, were the only things that could be heard over the massive din strewn up.

She had gotten seperated from her parents. She wasn't sure how it had happened, but it was in the initial panic, when the reports came in over every medium capable of carrying them - television, radio, Internet - that an Eldritchian was attacking St. John's. The evacuation routes had been drilled into everyone's minds - air, sea, and land. And yet somewhere in that crowd of people, buffeting against her like Billy did every time they met in the hallways, she'd lost her parents. She cried out for her mother, or her father, but over the sirens, the crack of the Canadian Forces trying desperately to stall for time until any mech could come to assist - and, as she would later learn, suffering more casualties in one hour than the Royal Newfoundland Regiment did at Beaumont Hamel - it was futile.

Four hours later, Kristen Johnson - twelve years old, blonde hair, clad in a jacket - was frightened to death. There was a monster out there; she could hear the shrieks it made, and for all it would have mattered she knew it was coming for her. So she treaded quietly and quickly, running across streets. The city became her playground, not that she was happy enough to notice.

She entered a convenience store, scared out of her mind. A Hershey's bar was near the counter - cookies and cream. She took it and ate it, and it soothed her nerves a little bit. Then she thought about what she had did; she had stolen something.

Not if I pay for it, she thought.

A hand deposited a single toonie onto the counter - it was quickly rattled off, though, by massive stomping noises. Terrified, she ran behind the counter, tears running down her cheeks as she sobbed. The stomping got so close some of the fireworks tumbled off the shelf in front of her - and then it stopped.

Agonizing silence, for far too long. Then - smaller padding noises. The unmistakable clinking noises of a gun. She didn't dare peek out, but became deathly quiet. The only sound was her quiet, rattling breaths.

"Hello?" It was a voice - male. "Kid, wherever you are... please, come out. I'm Canadi-army, we've got a robot outside, we can take you to your parents."

She edged up to the corner of the counter and leaned out, and that's when she saw him. He stood there, carrying a C8 carbine with a scope and a grip. He was wearing the familiar green-and-brown of CADPAT camouflage.

"You've got a mecha?" she asked, with baited breath.

He nodded. "Yeah. We've got a mecha."

She trotted outside, to face the Great Thunder.◊ The robot looked industrial; like it had been formed entirely out of steel. It was out on one knee, its head tilted towards the entrance. Sitting next to its foot was a Leopard tank.

The man came up behind him. "Yeah, that's her. ...I echo your sentiments, buddy, thank God we found her. You mind sticking with us 'til we pass the city limits? ...Thanks."

Kristen turned around, and the soldier smiled.

"What's your name, Miss?"

"Kristen Johnson!" she proudly proclaimed, livening up a bit now that she was in the presence of safety.

The soldier smiled. "My name's Danny. How do you feel about getting a ride in a tank?"

Tanks, Kristen decided, were very loud, but very fun.

She'd always been what Mom had called a "tomboy". She was a girl, but wasn't into too many girly things. She had her fair share of mecha action figures, and it was her dream to pilot something like the Great Thunder striding alongside the tank. She sat in the turret, her jacket off - there was a woman who called herself Sammy. She looked stern, and Danny had told her that Sammy was the tank's commander.

Apparently tanks had a crew of four people - or, at least, this Leopard did. Danny said that his role was "loader" - he was the person that fetched ammunition from the storage container and loaded it into the gun that Sammy controlled. There were two other people inside - Bob, who controlled the machine gun up top and the radio, and Jill, who was driving the tank.

Tanks weren't slow, either - the Leopard had gone much faster than she had expected it to. It was a really bumpy ride, too.

Eventually Sammy turned to her, the lightest hint of a smile on her face. "Kristen, you're in luck. We're almost to the convoy your parents are in and they know we're coming. You'll be with Mommy and Daddy before you know it."

"Yay!" She jumped into the air, struck a pose, then realized how silly she looked and shrink back. Danny and Sammy laughed, the both of them sharing a look as they did so.

"Hey!" called a voice from across the tank. "You wanna talk to the robot?"

"Do I!" Kristen ran over, stumbling when the tank hit a crack in the road but reaching the point. Bob lifted the radio headset off of him and lowered it onto Kristen. Her ears rang from the thrumming of the diesel engine, but that didn't matter. She adjusted the microphone, and asked, "Hello?"

"Hey, kid," came the cocksure voice from the other end. The crew of the tank would forever remember the awestruck look on her face. "You're the robot?"

"Yeah. I drive the Great Thunder. You've got a lot of questions, don't you?"

"Ooh! Ooh! What's it like to drive?"

"It's different depending on the mech. Me? I'm in a full-body suit right now and the mech's mimicing the actions I take up here. It's just like walking around or running like you usually do."

Kristen's glee was infectious. Sammy had a smile on her face as she watched. "Cool! Have you killed a lot of monsters?"

"Six to my name so far. And two that're disputed."

"Disputed?" It was a fancy word she hadn't heard before.

"They're not sure if I landed the finishing blow, or if someone else did. Alright, kid, we're coming up on the aid convoy. I'll track you down once this thing - CACHE is taking to calling it "Pterosaurus" - is down. I'll be wearing the body suit, you'll know it's me. See ya."

"Bye!" She took the helmet off, then sprung forwards and hugged Bob. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

Bob laughed and patted her on the back. "Least I could do, Kristen."

Danny tapped her on the back. "We're coming up on the aid convoy now. You wanna see out?"

Kristen excitedly nodded even as she could feel and hear the tank slowing down. Danny leaned down, and she ran around and climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. The soldier opened the top hatch and leaned out as Kristen, with the grace of a monkey, scrambled onto his shoulders.

The convoy had stopped - they were a fair distance away - and one vehicle on the right had singled out. She could see them getting out now. She knew it was Mom and Dad, but they looked fuzzy. Something wasn't right. Not that she cared - she was too overjoyed.

"MOM! DAD!" She waved, and they waved back, as the Leopard came to a halt. She dropped off of Danny's shoulders and slid down the tank, letting out a tiny "oof!" as she hit the ground, ignorant of Danny's "Holy sh-!" She ran towards them, but after a few seconds she heard a sound.

A horrible shrieking noise. She turned her head to the left.

It was there.

A mockery of dinosaurs, a grotesque ugly monster, heading for her. Quite a few things happened.

Her parents ran.

An arm wrapped around her. "COME ON!" shouted Danny.

There was a massive thump as the Great Thunder - which along the way had fallen a little behind - scrambled forwards to try and take the blow. But it was for naught.

Pterosaurus shrieked.

And in a flash, Kristen Johnson grew up.

March 15th, 2015

6:45 AM

Avalon, Atlantic Ocean

She woke up a lot more calmly than others would have.

She sat up out of bed. Her body was in cold sweats, and she felt rather somber. She got out of bed, the cold biting at her skin, and grabbed her smartphone.

It took naught but a few quick, practiced movements to unlock it, swipe in the password, and scroll back through her journal. The entry was March 12th, 2013.

She stared at the softly glowing screen, comprehending that. It had been her first nightmare about her parents in three years, and that instantly set her at ease. She remembered, darkly, the times when they came every night, and every time she did she briefly looked at herself and wondered how she was still here.

There was a thump as ass met hardwood. She sat and stared at the screen for a few moments longer. The only word she muttered was a quiet "Damn." She hit the Home button, and it was 6:46 AM.

It was a Sunday - so usually she slept in. Ace pilot or not, she got her sleep on the weekends - though she did configure a maximum-level alarm to wake her up in the event she needed to be deployed. That being said, though, her job was mostly "hurry up and wait". She oversaw her mech, practiced in the simulator, and occasionally performed maintenance that most often boiled down to "it's been on too long; shut it down, give it a moment, and turn it back on".

There was a quiet pause as she realized she was not going to be able to get back to sleep. Not after what she'd seen.

"Fuck, I'm cold." Kristen Johnson - age 25, hair full of color, almost naked - reached for her robe.

By seven in the morning Kristen was ready for the world. It was a long and tenuous process - it started with coffee to ensure she would remain aware, then continued on to breakfast, a shower, and spending far more time than she would've liked getting her hair to co-operate. It was a strange mop-top with a relatively thin ponytail - and a single, green tassel she rather liked the look of.

Which was another thing; it was dyed rainbow. That had been a story mostly involving frustration, wanting something to go right, realizing how stupid it was, then deciding that she may as well not half-ass the job, and then liking how it looked, when all was said and done. She'd kept the hair color for nine years now, and the style for three.

Slipping into a pair of clothes, donning her hoodie (set for a short tumble through her dryer after coffee, so that it would be as warm as possible), she finally felt ready for the world. She tucked her ponytail behind the hoodie, pulled her hood up, checked to make absolutely sure her keys, wallet, Colt, and phone were with her (she had forgotten her keys one day, and it was a miracle she'd managed to get back indoors in the first place), then opened her door, locked it behind her, and headed out into the world. She moved to her car, slid in, started it, and prepared for a gloomy morning-hour commute.

At least she'd get to see the Timber Wolf.

edited 6th Nov '14 3:12:18 PM by SpartyMcFly

Avalon, Inner Ring, Aristeia Headquarters, March 15th, 7 AM

Under the light of the rising sun, a man practiced a series of forms with a thin sword in hand, flowing through predetermined patterns of intertwined attack and defense with practiced fluidity. It was not a combat exercise and the moves were not done with the blindingly fast speed that characterized the rebirth of swordsmanship, fast enough to stop bullets, since the man was but a human and could not manage that celerity without the use of the powered exoskeleton thay lay nearby. No, the forms were performed with an almost fastidious respect for tempo, positioning and precision, the objective not so much to simulate battle but as to try and perfect every little detail about every single motion.

Gabriel Diagorides had been awake for an hour by this point. He had always been an early bird, yes, but that came especially easy in Avalon. There was something about sleeping over a giant man-made, mechanically powered continent that made him uneasy and he still found himself not sleeping quite as well as he did on the mainland despite having lived there for several years now. So, like clockwork, he got out of bed and engaged in his morning routine, conditioning, swordsmanship, unarmed training, all of it done without any mechanized aid to keep the body and mind sharp. Strong as an ox and still in amazing condition for someone of 40 with no mutations or cybernetic enhancements whatsoever, it seemed to be paying off.

As the pattern came to an end, Gabriel idly wondered what the day would have in store for him, watching the light wash over the advanced megacity of Avalon from one of the highest floors in one of the tallest buildings of the Inner Ring. He had not been deployed in several weeks while his Companion underwent internal repairs and overhauling. A decade of battle did not come cheap to any machine and, according to the Aristeia technicians in charge of its mainteinance, many of the joints and other inner mechanisms had been worn out from the demands of Gabriel's piloting style. The thought that he had pushed a machine to the breaking point made him smile somewhat. Still, as the son of the organization's founders his presence was oft requested in non-combat roles.

He was, after all, a very public figure. As the successor to the Diagorides family fortune that got the organization started in the first place, he was the Aristeia's single most visible face, its symbol along with Hetairos, and connecting with the people whose best interests he looked out for was a very important role. Considering the number of uneducated bigots and fearmongers Aristeia seemed to attract, he was more than happy to offer a more balanced and reasonable, not to mention truthful, account of what him and the organization started by his family sought to accomplish. Still, he missed the feel of battling with his own body moving a giant warmachine in accord, of actively protecting others with his own strength and skill mixed with those of Hetairos.

Perhaps he'd take an elevator to the headquarter's underground hangars, then, and check on how his Companion was holding up. But not now, first a shower and a good, clean set of clothes. Then perhaps breakfast, and only then to the hangars. Smiling to himself, he sheathed his sword back into its scabbard, forming a cane, and grabbed his deactivated exoskeleton as he left for his showers.

edited 16th Nov '14 6:04:20 PM by Z3R0H3X

Avalon Outer Ring, A cheap motel, 6:50 AM

Inside a rather kitschy motel room, a rather crusty-looking man sleeps on a very messy and disorderly bed; his loud and offensive snoring echoing throughout the room as well as the sound of the complimentary alarm clock/radio blaring out for the past 20 minutes, clearly having failed to gain any kind of reaction from the room's sole occupant.

"Munngghkkk..."

Rolling over the bed's edge and hitting the carpeted floor with a dull thud, only does the man begin to stir with a yawn and began to wake up; from the lack of concern or surprise of having fallen to the floor, it seems that this was routine for him.

"Wuhthime izzit?"

The man takes a few moments to untangle himself from the sheets that he had inadvertently wrapped around himself before crawling over the bed to get a good look at the alarm clock/radio.

"Huh. Not that late..."

After scratching some dandruff off of his scalp, the crusty man then slinked to the bathroom to freshen up and make himself look presentable.

Fifteen minutes later, the now considerably less crusty man exits his room; dressed in smart casual clothes, neither in a hurry nor a rush, waving a hello to a passing janitorial robot, which just clicked its eye in response to the human. If it wasn't for the Hochste Einmal Pilot ID card pinned to his breast pocket, one would be forgiven to think that the man was some academy student or a slacker.

"I'm sure those poindexters won't mind their test pilot be a bit late."

Coming to a stop on the bus station on the motel's corner, the crusty man waits for the morning commute.

edited 11th Nov '14 4:39:14 AM by questor

''March 15th, 2015

7:04 AM

Avalon, Atlantic Ocean

The commute was slightly more invigorating than she'd expected. As she drove, putting serious thought into buying one of those novelty hats that held Coke cans so she could drop a thermos of coffee into it and sip the blood of her existence so that she wouldn't crash into something at the ass-end of the morning, she took a look around.

If you didn't mind the fact that Eldritchian attack was a constant threat hovering over your head like the sword of Damocles, Avalon was probably the best place to live on Earth. It was the most technologically advanced place in the world, and not just because the island was completely artificial. Prices were below average, and since a lot of Avalonians were pilots, they had disposable income to spare. This meant a ton of commercial technologies were sent to Avalon for test-runs - and it had also resulted in iPhones that could survive punishment better described as "unreal", due to the extreme conditions of Avalon (which mostly had to do with gibbering masses of things that shouldn't be).

The healthcare was free, too. That was enough of a reason to see doctors frequently, besides the fact that Eldritchian biology tended to mesh in strange and unpredictable ways with human biology. She didn't like thinking about mutants all that much.

The place had nice schooling as well, even if it was a bit militaristic. She passed by a place - the Sei Institute for Piloting. This was a place where kids went to train in the art of fighting giant monsters. There were actual military academies that were less militaristic than pilot schools, because military academies taught you a ton of things. Pilot schools explicitly prepared you for war.

But these days, that's what you needed to do. It would literally be the difference between life and death.

Not that it would matter with the Sky Blazers. They'd appeared recently enough for her to remember the first time they popped up. She knew they weren't human - but they weren't Eldritchian, either, and they looked human, so it's not as if that wasn't a problem. She found it strange how the hairstyles of most of them seemed to defy reality - Kristen had looked through a lot of hairstyles and found that what a human quite simply wouldn't be able to wear for whatever amount of reasons, a Sky Blazer would proudly sport with little to no effort.

She'd also seen that they were apparently capable of performing feats of what evened out to magic - though their tell was through their hair color and eye color. If you saw a red Sky Blazer, and you'd managed to piss him off, that's how you know to bring a bucket of water.

Fifty years ago it was just us, and now there's so many subspecies of human and aliens we're living with and it's all to fight giant monsters... I swear, some days I wake up and things seem too zany to actually be real.

Her mind finally spinning up, she began to close in on the Seed Esper building. She remembered why she'd signed up. While she personally didn't mind research, study, and use of recovered Eldritchians, the thought of piloting a mech with bits of something extremely personal inside spooked her out way too much. Hochste Einmal was another option, but then she saw Seed Esper. They made psychics and human accessories, and using technology they, too, had mastered Mecha. But what really caught her eye was one of their lines.

It was the line of Roughriders. They weren't very maneuverable, and were about as literal as one could get when it came to "tanks" on legs, but there were a lot of them waiting to be built, and even the smaller ones were resilient to damage to an absolutely insane degree - a brilliant armor-folding technique and shield generators allowed even the lightest Roughriders to sustain damage that would leave another Mecha comparable in size smoking metal. Their armament - not particularly impressive, but still enough gun - suffered for it, but she was already sold. An unstoppable tank that'd never quit.

Of course, the development of mechs was all a front - it was probably the worst-kept secret in the world that Seed Esper's real reason for existence, and their absolute pride and joy, were the Espers. Artificially grown psychics, tweaked in vitro to cultivate the ability to literally use their minds. They were nowhere near perfect - Espers oftentimes suffered massive neural degeneration as a byproduct of being able to use their abilities, and because of that their personalities varied wildly - far more wildly than even human personalities did. The Second Generation (the current one) was more successful in making sane Espers, but they still had some... feedback issues. There were rumors of a Third Generation floating around - ones she wouldn't deny, but hadn't heard anything concrete about yet.

She kept driving. She could look up rumors on her own time.

edited 9th Nov '14 7:14:56 PM by SpartyMcFly

Avalon, Inner Ring March 15th, 7:05 AM

Engaging Start-up Sequence.

Melissa was powering back on, in a closet that was currently lit up. Inside there was a small safe near the back which was closed shut and had a digital lock that glowed a bright neon green, as it waited for an imput code. On the left and right sides of the closet there were white shelves that had several suits folded up neatly and stacked. Near the back there were several clothes-hangers which had a mixed variety of outfits, from fairly business casual shirts, to other simple jackets.

Start-up Sequence Complete.

Melissa's eyes sparkled with life, well artificial life anyway. She quickly glanced down, to secure the knowledge. Ah so she did power down with her attire. Melissa adjusted her skirt a tad, and checked on the condition of her tights.

Accessing Daily Assignments

She tilted her head slightly to the right as she went over the day's protocol.

Primary Assignment of the Day: Engage with Businessmen Code-named X,Y,Z. Accessing co-ordinates of meet-up locations.

Melissa eagerly bounced on her heels as she raised up and extended her arms, checking on the blouse sleeves. As she was confirming the pristine status of it, which was in fact still pristine. She smiled, and puffed out her cheeks in satisfaction, as she accessed the other additional tasks which she was required to fulfill in this day. She picked up her purse, which was royal purple in color, and had a lock that was designed to look like a pink cherry blossom. Melissa picked it up and slung it over her right shoulder. She bounced up, as she exited the closet, and entered the bed-room, which currently had a radio playing some pop-music as the star that was singing it was being shown through hologram just above the radio.

Just as she was about to exit the room, she noticed Hibiki, a disciple of Ryu Fukui wander out of the restroom. He was a young man, fairly short, scrawny body, shaggy hair that he didn't comb, and would stick up in curls, and a scientist of Tezuka. Hibiki yawned, as he adjusted his lab-coat.

Melissa quickly approached Hibiki, standing a few mere inches in front of his face. She extended out her knees and brought them together, so they were touching, and she placed her hands on her legs. Melissa tilted her head as she beamed a smile, "Morning Hibiki-kun~!" Melissa said in an over-energetic tone, bubbly with enthusiasm and great joy.

Hibiki involuntarily lunged back, "...There is no need for the addressing of kun." He said annoyed, more than anything, "I thought I explained that. Don't you have the assign-." As soon as Hibiki brought up the assigned task, she immediately straightened up her back, and tilted her head back up right. She gave a friendly wave to Hibiki with her left hand, as she exited the room. "Bye! After I finished my assigned protocols for the day, I'll make sure to chat with you kay?" She said as she stuck her head through the door to make the announcement, before quickly slamming it before Hibiki could respond.

Another glorious day serving the Tezuka Corporation! Is there nothing better!? Melissa thought to herself, as she beamed a smile. Today would be a good day, she would finish her assigned tasks, and continue to help the Tezuka Corporation.

edited 10th Nov '14 11:06:00 PM by Dinorocket

March 14th, Avalon

Sofia sat in a room that was going to be where she stayed for the next little while. It was undecorated, but had everything she would need during their stay. The Esper and the people in charge of her had come to Avalon only yesterday for some reason or another. She thought she overheard one of the scientists mention something about a 'demonstration' so it was possible they wanted her to show off for Seed Esper in front of the competition. Not exactly what she had trained for, but fine if thats what they wished of her.

Sofia sat in the chair by the desk in the corner of the room. She had spare time at the moment, so she let her thoughts wander. This place was less secure than the facility back in Seed Esper. Even now, she could feel people through the walls. Their emotions reached out to the artificial psychic, it was annoying. The facility had lining in the walls that muted these subconscious voices at least a little. She took a deep breath as she told herself she would just have to learn to deal with it.

Sofia's thoughts shifted over to the state of the facility before she left. There were some things that she was not informed about, mostly because she didn't need to know, but even she could tell things were getting difficult for Seed Esper. The number of staff members was dwindling, likely cutbacks to save as much money as possible. It was a bit disconcerting, but the Esper was positive that once she began slaying monsters the funds would return and Seed Esper would prosper once again. She'd give her all to make sure of that.

That wasn't the only reason though. Another thing she was kept in the dark about was the rumors of a third generation of Esper. She didn't want to entertain the thought of it being true, but if it was then she could be in trouble. The gap in abilities between first and second generation Espers was immense. If the same was true between second and third, than she might not be needed after they started creating more. Seed Esper was Sofia's reason for living, so being cast out frightened her more than any Eldritchian.

Clenching her fists, Sofia decided she had enough of sitting around. If she had time to sit around, than she had time to train. She was not in the mood for simply training with fake rounds against normal humans, there would not be much challenge there. Instead she went to the Augmented Reality simulator that they brought with them. This way she could continue to develop her skills with lethal weapons without harming anyone. She made sure to set the difficulty high before placing the AR helmet on her head.

March 15th, Avalon, 7am

After an evening of sharpening her skills on virtual targets, Sofia awoke the next morning, sitting up in bed. She was actually a bit surprised that there was no one telling her what she needed to do yet, she had expected to be more productive on this trip. It was starting to make her feel a little anxious. She had never been away from the facility for long before. She got out of bed to prepare for the day, showering, getting dressed, and waiting to see what the say had in store for her.

The communication room, having been warned an Eldritchian is fast approaching, is buzzing with activity. Messages being sent to forewarn pilots and to get the Base's authority figures gathered, none of them are wasting this precious time.

The Mecha Bay however is visibly more worried, people hurrying to do whatever they can or standing in confusion. Marching up the stairs to the overview however is one almost white blonde male. His footsteps pounding with force as he steps up them, he pushes open the door to shout "Gerald!"

Looking at him is an older blonde haired man with green eyes, casually looking at the twenty year old. "What is it this time Samson?"

Breathing heavily, Samson responds. "You know Faith and Selena can't handle an Eldritchian on their own, and those MPs are nothing in comparison. With no other real pilots ready to deploy from here, allow me to-"

"No matter how many times you ask, you will never be allowed to pilot a Seelie. The last year was difficult, yes, but the outposts throughout CACHE have the full Five Seelies. If the Eldritchian lands in the Inner Ring, James and I will simply call in reinforcements."

Clenching his fist, Samson is about to speak... Until he hears the sirens going off. "Pilots Mulier and Jenkins, keep your units ready. The Outer Ring may need reinforcement."

Avalon, Outer Ring, Destroyed Residential District 41, 7:32 AM

The black pod having caused a meter crater on impact, it suddenly bursts open violently. Fifty feet tall planks of metal flying off into already ruined buildings, numerous tentacle-like appendages grip the sides of it. Pushing itself out from the pod is a large hairless creature of flesh. Though vaguely humanoid in appearance, it has two fleshy spikes growing out from both sides of its head and only one prominent eye. Having "arms" and "legs" composed of numerous tentacles, the mouthless creature looks at its carriage.

Proceeding to tear it apart and wrap its tentacles around the metal chunks, it turns towards the mostly undamaged 40th District. With tentacles firmly clutching the metal chunks, it suddenly hurls them at the District. Down below as it begins to tear out more chunks, the Eldritchian Warning sirens blare with force as citizens rush to safety.

Seed Esper Avalon, Inner Ring, 7:31 AM

No sooner had Kristen stepped out her car door and locked it than the alarm rang through the building. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the air raid siren she'd set up on her phone blaring at an ungodly volume.

Over the loudspeakers was a calm, feminine voice. "HOSTILE ELDRITCHIAN DETECTED. ALL PILOTS, REPORT TO OUTFITTING FOR DRIVESUIT ASSIGNMENT AT ONCE." The voice repeated as adrenaline began to flood her system. She knew her way through the Seed Esper base like the back of her hand - so she booked it.

She arrived at Outfitting two minutes later, where she stripped down to her undergarments within thirty seconds. There were likely other pilots in the room, but any sense of modesty had seemed to leave her as her normally soft face began to harden. The technicans moved in, fitting the plates of the drive armor over her - the armor contained a layer of pressurized gel that helped absorb the impact from heavy blows, as well as preventing her spine from compressing when she ejected.

The helmet went on; it was specially built, and was open near her neck, for a simple reason. Grasping the back of her neck with two fingers, she pushed in and pulled out, and with a click, the plug of skin was removed, revealing something that looked not unlike an Ethernet port.

That was where the Battlejack went into, and it was what allowed her to view augmented reality - by interfacing with the brain itself. It was something she'd never really bothered to understand.

Once set to fit, she ran, ignoring the fact her phone was still vibrating madly and blaring an air raid siren. She could only pray that nobody destroyed it as she sprinted towards the Mecha Bay.

It was a massive ruckus when Kristen arrived - people and machines were flirting to and fro. But she could immediately recognize the Roughrider she piloted simply from its shape alone. The thing didn't look even vaguely human.

It stood there, all four hundred and fifty tons of it, and yet it was still capable of self-locomotion.◊ Its double-wide arms carried twin particle beams and twin railguns each - the particle beams ablated away armor, while the railguns sheared through flesh as though it weren't even there. Mounted on its shoulders were twin missile launchers capable of firing homing missiles with cluster warheads; they weren't effective unless they got a lock, but were invaluable for shelling targets at long range. The four other weapons ports mounted on the torso had yet to be fitted with anything, mostly because she hadn't been able to find anything to fit it with. And its shield generator was powerful enough - and its heavy armor folded and refolded enough - that the thing was rated to take a blast from a strategic nuclear weapon.

It was the Timber Wolf. The Timber Wolf Mark 2, if you wanted to be more specific - there had been an earlier Timber Wolf, but it had taken a very big fall and Kristen had ejected as the mech's core overloaded and it exploded in the poor Eldritchian's face. Not that it killed it, but it definitely stunned it long enough for something else to finish the job.

The design was taken and improved upon to produce the current generation of Timber Wolf that Seed Esper sold as part of their Roughrider line. The Roughriders were very slow and Restrained in all but name - but what earned them the right to fight alongside Supers was their sheer indestructibility. Seed Esper, in addition to installing a very powerful shield generator, had managed to fold the high-strength armors together in such a right way that the lightest Roughrider sold - the light Flea scout - could take punishment similar to an average Super before it finally gave up on life. The heavier ones - she recalled names like "Atlas", "Dire Wolf", and "Stone Rhino" - had been rated to survive the impact of the regular-design Tsar Bomba - albeit, against a 100 megaton explosion, they wouldn't survive much more than that.

They paid for this with weapons arrangements that only made the Heavy and Assault-class Roughriders truly effective versus Eldritchians - and, again, the fact that they were slow. They were nowhere near as maneuverable as your average Mechanical Armor, and needed special packs fitted to fight anywhere that wasn't "land" or "water that doesn't engulf them".

But, Kristen mused as she climbed the ladder to the Timber Wolf - that was what appealed about them. They were invincible, and they wouldn't stop.

Juarez

Mexico

11:25 AM

He stood, a Kalashnikov to either shoulder. The tiny town of Juarez's air raid siren was going off - an Eldritchian had been detected that was on-course to the town.

It would not get past so long as he drew breath.

Salvador Mendel was a people's champion. For one or two years he had kept the Mexican drug cartels at bay - taking weapons from them as they were deployed. Whenever Juarez was put into danger, the diminuitive Mexican charged out. He was only five feet tall, but he was built like a brick shithouse due to steroid usage ever since he was 13 - which, ironically, was the cause of him only being five feet tall.

Of course, the few cartel soldiers that dared to call him "short" ran terrified when they found he was strong enough to dual-wield RPK machine guns.

And so it was that he kept the town safe for two years and racked up a bodycount that would make Simo Hayha blush. He took weapons and ammo from those he killed and stashed them at strategic points around town. The cartel tried to kill him, but it never worked no matter what the odds were. They sent in men; Salvador killed them. The response was more, better-equipped men; Salvador killed them too.

They sent in technicals; Salvador killed the machine gunners and stashed the machine guns. They sent in a tank; Salvador blew it up with a stolen RPG. At one point they sent a Mecha to the town; Salvador's response was to climb up it, shoot his way into the cockpit with multiple grenades, force the pilot to drive the mech to the outskirts of town, then activated the self-destruct and slid down the thing before it exploded.

If it was used to fight things, the cartel had sent it at him, and Salvador had destroyed it. So when he stood at the edge of an evacuated Juarez, looking out towards the horizon, he swore that whatever thing would come to this town would not pass him. He knew well what the odds were; he wasn't going to be able to hurt this thing. He could only buy time for a squad of Mecha from CACHE to get here.

"So long as I breathe, you will not pass," he muttered under his breath.

And then he saw it.

It looked like the world's biggest rhinocerous; and then it had gotten into an orgy with dinosaurs and gotten a tail flail, spiny ridges, and three horns - two on its forehead. He wasn't sure what to call it, but either way, it was going to die.

"CHOW YUN FAT!" screamed Salvador, as he pulled the trigger and started emptying rounds into the Eldritchian. The thing noticed, and stopped.

Salvador drained both of the assault rifles as it pawed at the ground, and charged. Facing this down, Salvador did the only thing he knew he could; He ran to the side, as fast as his stubby, but powerful legs would carry him.

Buildings collapsed, but he survived - feeling the whoosh of air at his back. He reloaded and continued to open fire; the thing turned around, noted his position, and charged; and Salvador dodged through virtue of the fact it was nowhere near smart enough to think about where he would be rather than where he was.

This continued for two hours. Salvador dug into every weapon cache; from old Tokarevs to stolen Xiuhcoatl assault rifles to Browning M2 heavy machine guns, he emptied every bullet he could find into the thing. It charged; he dodged; and Juarez was reduced to a wreck as Salvador engaged in the deadliest, and final, dance he ever would.

Some time later, he was drenched in sweat, and the thing was pissed. He looked down to the twin PKM machine guns he was carrying - they were the last of the great weapon caches. The large ammunition boxes carried 100 Soviet 7.62x54mmR rounds each; he had 200.

"GET OFF MY PLANE!" He pulled both triggers and started emptying the twin machine guns into the monster. He waited until it charged, then he ran, the PKMs rattling and cracking in his hands as he dodged out of the way of the Eldritchian's charge. A few minutes later, he ran out of ammo.

The Eldritchian turned around and sighted in on him. Salvador felt a wave of pure malice wash over him; the thing hated him. It wanted him dead more than anything else in the world.

Time to think of some witty last words.

Stretching both of his arms out, Salvador cocked twin middle fingers, aimed directly at the gibbering leviathan in front of him. "HIT ME, I DARE YOU!"

More thumping. He lowered his hands and turned to stare. "...wha?"

Mecha.

Mecha with the CACHE logo.

The Eldritchian looked, and it found a better target.

Salvador ran off to the side. "BACK FROM THE DEAD, PENDEJO!" screamed the midget as the CACHE Mecha charged into battle with the giant monster. It was a short, but glorious fight; his ears were filled with the blasts of energy weapons and the wet thwacking that could only come when a metallic fist hit a fleshy slab of meat. The CACHE mechs, within 30 minutes, had figured out how to kill the thing.

And within 45, they had.

"SUCK IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"

Then a giant alarm clock started blaring in his face. He cocked his head. It sounded familiar.

Avalon, Atlantic Ocean

7:30 AM

Salvador shot up out of bed. It took his sleep-addled brain a few moments to realize that the alarm clock was real. And more than that - it was the Eldritchian alarm.

"God damnit!" He jumped out of bed, and threw on a pair of shoes and shorts.

Within five minutes he was out of the building, several strips of microwaved bacon in his mouth and a wallet in the pocket of his cargo pants (really cargo shorts, but he couldn't wear pants). He slid into his vintage Ford Mustang - one of the few luxuries he allowed himself, mostly because he needed transport - and kicked it into gear. Backing out and shifting into first, he roared off down the road towards Hochste Einmal HQ.

edited 12th Nov '14 6:30:34 PM by SpartyMcFly

Avalon, Inner Ring, Aristeia Headquarters underground hangars, March 15th, 7:32 AM

The Hetairos was, thankfully, completely repaired and ready for action, its weapons mounted and ready. Gabriel himself was just as ready for battle, clad in his cutting edge exoskeleton underneath his heavy black clothes. He had bathed and consumed a modest breakfast, which he was now regretting as alarms blared in the underground hangar where his Companion rested in between engagements. Unlike what the saying would have people believe, it was always better to fight on a settled stomach to avoid unpleasant intestinal situations. Oh well, duty called, or rather CACHE did. Their lack of pilots meant they were more eager than ever to contact other groups when an enemy appeared.

As the hangar crew scrambled into positions, clearing the way for Hetairos, Gabriel neatly put his clothes away inside a personal locker and climbed up the catwalks into the massive hoplite's cockpit. Unlike other cockpits, made up of multiple screens and comfortable seating to allow the pilot access to their instruments, the Hetairos' was a dark and foreboding deal, a wide open space where a massive suit of armor, separated into parts, was connected to the structure by way of powerful mechanical limbs. He walked inside, activated his exoskeleton's helmet, and stepped into the boots. Immediately the pieces linked up to his powersuit and the rest of the control interface followed.

It was a strange experience, not unpleasant but definitely odd and it always took some getting used to on startup. Moving his fingers, his neck, his eyes, making a fist, taking a short step forward, all the while feeling the feedback from the Hetairos, how that massive warmachine followed his motions to a tee and how it felt on his body. It was a bizarre disconnect, but an empowering one after a while, once he got used to the feel of that body that wasn't really his. Finally, the Hetairos and Gabriel stepped out of the repair bay and into the "surface express" as one, getting briefed on the situation as they shot towards Avalon's surface at breakneck speeds.

A single enemy located in the Residential District 41, confirmed eldrichtian, visuals provided. A single eye, but multiple arms made up of numerous tentacles. He pondered whether it should be called Polyphemus for the cyclops or Hekatonkheir for its multiple limbs, and whether those names hadn't been used already. After 10 years it was hard to keep track. Finally, the Hetairos saw the light of day once more, though in a less than glorious manner. The maglev system that transported the machine out of the underground turned horizontal, leaving the machine it was carrying lying on its back, and sped towards the combat area. It was speedier and safer than walking the machine there, but it looked so ridiculous. Gabriel would enter combat in less than a minute.

Avalon Inner Ring 7:32 A.M.

Melissa frowned as she puffed out her cheeks, as the alarms were going off. As soon as it was sent she composed and sent out an e-mail to the three business-men that it was her primary task to discuss and confirm things with. However, a new thought occurred to her. Helping out in this deal against the Eldritchians would be sure to earn the Tezuka Corporation more points with their public relations with CACHE. Melissa smiled as she did a fist-pump with her right hand as she placed her left hand on her hip. Alright! This should work out quite well. she thought to herself.

She quickly headed over towards the Tezuka launch site, in the Outer Rings.