The days ticked by as Seven grew ever more restless, even his usual pastime of people-watching started to feel stressful as the atmosphere grew more tense.
As the demonstrations ended and the corporations began to jostle for position with one another, Seven began to get more frustrated as he sat in this metal coffin, waiting for their decision.
He hadn't even had the chance to talk with Alicia as she had ignored his messages. He wanted to apologize to her because, in the moment, he had not accounted for how it would make another pilot feel being sacrificed for the greater good with the mission.
He hated to admit it, but the conversations around the base had started to get to him, and he worried for his own future and whether or not he would survive the coming weeks.
This nervous energy only increased once the bidding war began, not that he knew the exact details. Such a thing was kept under corporate covers and in quiet rooms he couldn't penetrate with the base's surveillance systems. What he did know wasn't good; the really big companies were throwing ridiculous amounts of money around, completely shutting out the smaller companies that had remained. Despite this, a few of them had formed a conglomerate to try to hammer out a shared ownership of his contract, but from the sounds of things, that had fallen apart quickly through corporate sabotage, especially once the small conglomerate realized they were in over their heads, especially once the big players started moving pieces on the board.
Calling the conglomerate small sounded odd as they owned multiple cities and even countries between them, but compared to the likes of Akira and Vortex, they were small. Even if he'd wanted to go independent, it was too late now; the big corporations had him in their sights, and they wouldn't rest until he was their asset or until they could deny him from their competition.
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Seven woke with a start to loud banging on his cockpit.
“Fuck! What?!”
Red lights blared in the bay as engineers swarmed all over him.
“Scramble, man! Deal’s been finalized, and someone ain’t happy.”
“Who is it?” Seven demanded.
“Askin’ the wrong guy! Don’t chip the paint! You’re outta the sim now!”
As the alarm blared throughout the underground hangar, the engineers sprang into action, rushing to prepare the colossal mech for battle. The ground beneath their feet trembled as the massive machine hummed to life. Red emergency lights bathed the hangar in an ominous glow, reflecting off the gleaming metal plates of the mech.
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The moment had arrived, and he could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins. The displays before him flickered to life, illuminating the darkness of the cockpit.
"Core activation sequence initiated," Overkill’s voice echoed.
Overkill’s white frame still bore the marks of combat, its design showcased a perfect blend of functionality and aesthetics, with sleek lines and angular plating that exuded a sense of both power and grace. A set of four Ares cannons spread like the skeletal remains of wings, spires of destruction. This set of ordnance vastly different from the simulator runs.
The startup process continued as the core's various systems engaged. Hydraulic pumps hissed, and gears churned as it awakened from its slumber. “Running full system diagnostics. . .” This was no routine start-up; it was a race against time as enemy forces drew nearer to the base. ”Machine status: Fully Operational. System online.”
Seven’s hands flew across the controls, initializing the control surface checks. He verified the responsiveness of the mech's articulated arms, ensuring each digit on the massive hands could grip with enough force to crush stone. The legs moved in sync with his thoughts, flexing and extending, allowing the mech to carry its tremendous weight with ease. Seven then checked the shoulder-mounted weapon pods, making sure they were loaded and ready to unleash devastating firepower upon the approaching adversaries.
Meanwhile, outside the cockpit, teams of engineers scrambled around the mech, making last-minute adjustments and double-checking critical components. Technicians hustled to finalize the connection of power cables, hydraulic lines, and ammunition feeds. Sparks flew as they sealed armor plates and secured any loose components. Their efforts were punctuated by shouts and the clanking of tools, all amid the relentless pulsating alarm.
With the mech's checks nearing completion, Seven's mission controller and AI systems engineer, Lieutenant Ava Collins, linked over coms. She took her seat and quickly interfaced with the core's AI to run additional diagnostics.
"AI status green," Ava reported, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.
"Roger," Seven replied, his eyes fixed on the main viewport, which now displayed a live feed of the approaching enemy forces.
The AI assistant chimed in once more, "Weaponry active. All clearances granted. Bandits targeted."
Seven's heart pounded as the hangar floor rumbled beneath the mech's colossal feet as it took its first steps forward, emerging from the depths of the underground hangar.
The engineers retreated to safety as the massive mech lumbered towards the exit. Hydraulic actuators roared, and the faint blue glow of energy fields shimmered along the edges of the plates. The atmosphere crackled with tension as the mech moved with purpose, its pilot controlling every movement with a seamless integration of man and machine.
Finally, the doors of the hangar bay groaned open, revealing a battlefield enveloped in chaos. Smoke billowed on the horizon, and the distant sounds of explosions echoed through the air. The enemy forces were dangerously close to the base, already engaging the outer forces, and the time for preparation was over.
With an echoing metallic thud, Overkill took its first steps onto the battlefield, ready to face the approaching foes. The mech's sensors locked on to their presence, its weapons aimed and prepared to unleash destruction.