The Zeraxian Commander loomed like a dark monolith, its red eyes glaring with alien malice. Jack's fingers danced over the controls of his mech, a symphony of clicks and whirs echoing in the cramped cockpit. The tension was a coiled spring in his chest, ready to snap.
"Alright, big guy," Jack muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the stakes. "Let's dance."
With a roar that shook the ruins of Los Angeles, Jack’s rotary guns spun to life, belching fire and fury. Bullets hailed upon the alien commander, each one a chorus of defiance from humanity's last stand. The Zeraxian's shields flickered under the onslaught, a light show of impending doom.
"Jack! Hit him with everything!" shouted a crew member through the comms, her voice slicing through the cacophony.
"Way ahead of you!" he replied, thumbing the trigger with relish.
The final blast was a beautiful disaster. The Zeraxian Commander buckled, its form disintegrating under the relentless barrage until all that remained was a cloud of dust and the sweet smell of victory. Jack couldn't help but let out an exhilarated whoop as the adrenaline buzzed in his veins like electrified honey.
"Commander is toast," he announced, grinning ear to ear. "Let's head home, folks."
The journey back to the underground base was a parade of high fives and hearty backslaps, their mechs trudging through the debris-littered streets with a swagger only victors could muster. As the base's reinforced doors slid open with a hiss, Jack’s mind was already racing ahead.
"Time to patch up and power up," he declared, hopping out of his battle-scarred mech. He patted its cold metal flank affectionately before turning to seek out the one person he knew could turn his machine into a titan among tin cans.
"Zara!" he called out, his voice echoing off the sturdy walls of the bunker. The base was a labyrinth of salvaged technology and gritty determination, a testament to human ingenuity in the face of extraterrestrial bullies. He had read on his HUD there was an engineer at the base called Zara who could help him.
Jack found Zara hunched over a workbench, her hands a blur of skillful motion. His approach was a mix of respect and urgency, the need to strengthen his mech pressing against his thoughts like a stubborn stain.
"Hey, Zara! Fancy helping a hero out?" Jack flashed his most charming smile, one that said 'I know I've just blown stuff up, but trust me, I'm a good guy.'
"Let’s see your stats first, hotshot," she replied without looking up, her focus unbreakable.
"Right, right," Jack nodded, tapping at his wrist-mounted display. Numbers and symbols scrolled across the screen, a digital readout of his victories and near-misses.
Mech Soldier: Level 1
Power: 5
Ouchie: 2
Weapon: 10
XP: 15
** Upgrade Available **
"Seen worse," Zara said, finally meeting his gaze. “But you need to upgrade first before I work on you.”
Her eyes held a spark of interest now, examining him like one might appraise a fixer-upper. Jack felt himself puff up a bit under her scrutiny, ready to prove that his mech and its pilot were worthy of her magic touch.
“Aiden, how do I upgrade?” Jack said.
Aiden said, “You just have to think of it, and voila it will happen.”
“Can I choose the stats?”
“Sorry buddy, you can but I can choose for you more efficiently,” Aidan said.
“Sure go ahead. Make my day.”
Nothing happened.
Zara was staring at him. “Are done talking to your AI? I have a lot to do.”
James shook his head. He closed his eyes.
** Upgrade complete **
Mech Soldier: Level 1
Power: 7
Ouchie: 3
Weapon: 15
XP: 50
"Stats don't make a hero, Jack," Zara retorted, her tone laced with skepticism as she scrutinized the determined set of his jaw. "What's your play here?"
Aiden said, “I like her.”
“Shut up,” he said.
Jack felt the weight of her distrust like a physical thing, pressing down on his shoulders. He knew his next words had to bridge the gap between doubt and alliance.
"Zara, I'm not just playing at being a hero. I am one," he said, injecting every ounce of sincerity into his voice. "And I need your expertise to keep fighting. The Zeraxians won't wait for us to be ready."
She held his gaze a moment longer before her expression softened, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "All right, Mr. Hero," she conceded and motioned for him to follow. "Let's see what we're working with."
They navigated through the base, their path illuminated by the intermittent flicker of overhead lights until they arrived at a workshop that hummed with potential. Walls lined with shelves buckled under the weight of assorted gadgets, while toolkits lay sprawled across benches like soldiers at rest.
"Welcome to my domain," Zara announced, spreading her arms wide to encompass the organized chaos. "If it's broken, I can fix it. If it's weak, I can strengthen it."
Jack grinned, his heart racing at the sight of the mechanical haven. "This is incredible! You're like some sort of mech wizard!"
"Flattery will get you everywhere, but it won't fix your mech," Zara quipped, already pulling tools from a nearby wall. "You ready to get your hands dirty, hero?"
"Absolutely," replied Jack, rolling up his sleeves with eagerness. "Lead the way, oh great and powerful wizard."
"Watch it," Zara chuckled, throwing him a pair of safety goggles. "In this shop, you earn your titles."
Her hands were a blur of precision and purpose as she stripped down a mech limb that had seen better days. Jack could hardly keep up with the sequence of parts being removed: pistons, cables, armor plating, each piece clattered onto the workbench with a sound that spoke both of destruction and creation.
"By the time I'm done with it, this arm will punch through steel like it's wet cardboard," Zara declared without looking up from her work.
"Remind me never to arm-wrestle you," Jack quipped, his eyes wide with admiration at the speed of her disassembly.
"Smart man," she shot back with a smirk, her fingers already starting the reassembly. Components clicked together in a satisfying symphony, each one finding its place with an ease that betrayed Zara's intimate knowledge of their dance.
"Like watching a conductor lead an orchestra," Jack murmured, unable to suppress his awe.
"Except here, every note has to be perfect, or the whole thing blows up in your face," Zara added, snapping the final piece into position with a confident grin.
"Comforting thought," he said, chuckling nervously. But inside, Jack's respect for Zara's craft swelled. She was more than skilled; she was an artist, and her medium was mayhem and metal.
"Alright, Hero," she said, wiping her hands on a rag and turning towards Jack's battle-scarred mech. "Let's see what we're working against."
Jame’s Mech was brought down to her workshop. Together they circled the machine, Zara's trained eye cataloging every dent and scratch with a critical gaze. She pointed at the chest plate where the rotary guns had taken the brunt of enemy fire.
"Your firepower is impressive, but these plates are going to buckle if you don't reinforce them," she advised, tapping a section with her wrench. "And your hydraulics are sluggish, see here?" She jostled a joint, eliciting a groan from the machinery. "We'll need to overhaul the fluid system."
Jack scratched his head, feeling outmatched by the task ahead. "And my Power 7 stat... Can we boost that?"
"Power 7, huh?" Zara mused, circling to the back of the mech. "I've got a set of Grade-A capacitors that'll juice you up nicely. Might even get you pushing 8 or 9. But don't forget, it's not just about raw strength; it's how you apply it."
"Right," Jack nodded, buoyed by the possibility of enhanced might. "And Ouchie 3? I'm guessing that's not great for durability."
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"Ouchie 3 is like bringing a nerf gun to a tank fight," Zara deadpanned. "But don't sweat it. We'll layer some composite alloys here and there. You'll be tougher than a two-dollar steak."
"Sounds expensive," Jack winced.
"In this economy? You can afford it," she quipped with a wink. "Now, let's talk weapons. That stat is solid, but there's always room for more boom."
"More boom is always good," Jack agreed, grinning despite the looming challenge.
"Good attitude, Hero. Keep that up, and you might just live long enough to become a legend," Zara said, her tone light, but her eyes serious.
"Or die trying spectacularly," Jack added, matching her levity.
"Either way, it'll be one hell of a show," Zara promised, clapping him on the shoulder before diving headlong into the heart of the mech, ready to mold it into a fortress of fury and firepower.
Jack leaned over Zara's shoulder, trying not to get in the way as she wielded a spanner with deft precision. "So," he said, a curious lilt in his voice, "what's that you're tweaking there?"
"Ah, that's the gyro-stabilizer," Zara replied without looking up, her fingers working nimbly. "Keeps you from doing accidental somersaults when you're trying to look intimidating."
"Sounds essential," Jack chuckled. "And that over there?" He pointed to a cylindrical component with ribbons of wires spilling out like entrails.
"Power converter," she answered promptly. "It's what turns your 'I wish I could' into 'watch me.'"
"Neat." Jack squinted at the intricate network of machinery. "But how does it all come together? It's like an orchestra in here, and I can't even play the triangle."
"Think of it like this," Zara began, straightening up to face him. She grabbed a nearby wrench, balancing it on her palm. "Your mech is like this tool: functional, maybe even powerful. But if I balance it just right..." She shifted her hand slightly, and the wrench stood upright, teetering on the edge of stability.
"Whoa," Jack muttered, impressed despite himself.
"Exactly. Now, if I add weight here." She placed a small bolt on the top end of the wrench, and it tipped over immediately. "You get a faceplant in front of the Zeraxians, and they're not kind critics."
"Got it. Balance bad, faceplant bad," Jack said, nodding vigorously. "So, how do I avoid being the laughing stock of the galaxy?"
"By understanding this," Zara said, moving back to the mech. She pointed to its legs. "Weight distribution. Your guns pack a punch, but they also make you top-heavy. If we tweak the leg servos, reinforce the chassis with lighter materials here and redistribute power flow." She trailed off, already lost in the vision of improvement.
"Then I won't tip over when I go full Rambo?" Jack ventured, trying to follow along.
"Exactly. You'll be nimble. Responsive." She slapped the mech's thigh as if praising a racehorse. "You'll dance around those alien freak shows and deliver firepower where it counts."
"Like a ballerina with bazookas," Jack mused, a grin tugging at his lips.
"Terrifyingly accurate," Zara snorted, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Now, help me with these panels. Let's turn you into the deadliest dancer this side of Doomsday."
Jack’s hands were a blur of motion as he followed Zara’s directions, the once mysterious innards of his mech becoming less mystic with every bolt tightened and panel secured. His fingers, smeared with grease and grime, worked in tandem with Zara's precise movements. They were a pit crew of two, servicing a machine that was more than mere transportation; it was salvation wrapped in steel.
"Hand me the hydro-spanner," Zara commanded without looking up from the mech's exposed knee joint.
"Hydro-what-now?" Jack blinked, scanning the array of tools with a bewildered gaze until Zara pointed it out; a tool resembling a cross between a wrench and a futuristic water gun. He snatched it up and passed it to her, feeling a surge of pride when she gave a curt nod of approval.
"Every second counts, Cooper. You're doing good, but we need to do better," she said, voice muffled by the cavity she had half-disappeared into.
"Better, faster, stronger, I can dig it," Jack said, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "What's next, boss?"
"Next? We accessorize." Zara emerged from the mech's framework with a sly grin. "And I'm not talking about decals and dashboard hula girls."
She led Jack to a corner of the workshop where items that made the previous tools look primitive were neatly arranged. She picked up a sleek, ominous-looking cannon that hummed with dormant energy.
"Plasma cannon, state of the art. It'll cut through Zeraxian hulls like a hot knife through space butter," she explained, the glint in her eyes suggesting she enjoyed the destruction it promised.
"Space butter?" Jack raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "I've never heard that one before."
"Stick with me, you'll get a whole dictionary of Zara-isms." Her smirk was infectious. "Now, think fast!"
She tossed an object towards Jack, who caught it reflexively. It was lighter than it looked, a compact device with a lattice of circuits etched across its surface.
"Is this what I think it is?" Jack asked, turning the device over in his hands.
"If you're thinking 'cloaking device,' then yes." Zara leaned against the workbench, arms crossed. "Makes you invisible to the naked eye and most sensors. Perfect for sneaky sneak attacks or getting out of a tight spot."
"Like ninja smoke bombs... but sci-fi," Jack said, eyes wide with awe and a grin spreading unchecked.
"Sci-fi ninja," Zara corrected with a mock-serious nod. "And they say the classics never die."
"Okay, so how do we install this bad boy?" Jack asked, his earlier trepidation replaced by the thrill of upgrading his metallic steed.
"Patience, grasshopper," Zara chided playfully. "First, we integrate the plasma cannon, then we work on making you disappear."
"Sounds like a plan." Jack bounced on the balls of his feet, eager. "Let's turn this mech into a ghost with a big stick."
"Exactly!" Zara laughed, the sound echoing off the high ceilings of the workshop. "Now let's get to it. Those Zeraxians won't defeat themselves."
Together, they dove back into the labyrinth of wires and metal, a duo determined to tip the scales of war with ingenuity and a dash of humor. The world above might have fallen silent under the shadow of the apocalypse, but down here, hope was being bolted together, one enhancement at a time.
Tools clattered against the workshop's cold concrete floor as Jack fastened the last bolt into place, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his brow. He stepped back, admiring the sleek curves and newly attached weaponry that had turned his once humble mech into a harbinger of alien doom.
"Zara," he began, a softness in his voice that contrasted with the hard metal surrounding them, "I can’t thank you enough. You took a heap of bolts and turned it into something amazing. I was just a guy who pressed buttons for a living, and now, look at me! I'm like a pseudo-knight in high-tech armor, thanks to you."
He offered her a lopsided smile, a mix of gratitude and newfound confidence. His hands were dirty, yet there was an undeniable gleam in his eyes, a reflection of the bright, deadly mech before him.
Zara brushed a stray lock of crimson hair from her face, her smile reaching her eyes as she regarded Jack. "Potential," she mused aloud, the word hanging between them like a challenge. "You've got loads of it, Jack Cooper. But being a mech pilot isn't all flashy upgrades and taking down the big bads with guns blazing."
She leaned in, her gaze intense yet encouraging. "It’s about what's up here," Zara tapped the side of her head, then pointed to her chest, "and in here. Train those as much as you do piloting, and you’re not just going to be formidable. You’re going to be unstoppable."
"Unstoppable, huh?" Jack chuckled, rolling the word around his tongue like a new flavor. It sounded good, no, it sounded fantastic. "I guess I better start training my brain and heart muscles then."
"Exactly!" Zara clapped him on the shoulder. "Now, let’s wrap this up. There's a world out there waiting for its butt to be saved by a semi-clueless, but charmingly optimistic, mech pilot."
"Charmingly optimistic?" Jack feigned offense, grinning ear to ear. "I'll have you know, I am fully clueless. The optimism is just a bonus feature."
"Good thing I’m here to upgrade you, then," Zara shot back, her laughter mingling with the whirring sounds of the workshop. “Let’s get you into training.”
He couldn’t help but think that, apocalypse or not, he was exactly where he needed to be. Jack's hands itched with anticipation as he hovered beside Zara at the threshold of the training area. The vast space loomed before them, a cavernous arena where shadows clung to the corners like spectators eager for the show.
"Here," Zara said, flipping a switch that bathed the training ground in harsh white light. "We'll see what you're really made of." Her eyes danced with a challenge that Jack couldn't resist.
"Lead the way, Professor Mitchell," Jack replied with a mock bow, his tone playful but his heart pounding a fierce rhythm. This was his moment to shine or spectacularly face-plant.
"First lesson: don't call me 'professor,'" Zara said, her stride confident as she led him across the metal-plated floor. The sound of their boots echoed, merging into a drumbeat of impending action.
"Got it, Captain Obvious," Jack shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Smartass," she retorted without missing a step, a sly grin on her face.
They reached the center of the training zone, and Zara gestured to a panel brimming with buttons and sliders. "This is your new best friend, a control board for customizing simulations. Think of it as a video game, except the hit points are real and so is the sweat."
"Sweet," Jack breathed out, eyeing the console with a mix of reverence and eagerness. He had always been a quick study, his fingers now itching to dance over the controls.
"Let's start with something basic, mobility drills." Zara tapped a few commands into the panel, and instantly, obstacles began to rise from the floor: walls, ramps, moving platforms.
"Basic, she says," Jack muttered, the thrill of the challenge sending an adrenaline surge through his veins. He climbed into the cockpit of his mech, feeling the familiar hum of the machine melding with his pulse.
"Ready?" Zara's voice crackled through the comms, tinged with mischief.
"Born ready," Jack declared, gripping the controls.
"Show me," came Zara's simple reply.
With a roar of engines, Jack launched his mech forward. The behemoth of steel and circuits responded with a grace that belied its size, weaving between barriers as Jack found the rhythm, the dance of destruction and dexterity.
"Nice footwork, twinkle toes," Zara's voice teased, but there was approval in her tone.
"Twinkle toes?" Jack laughed, dodging a swinging obstacle with inches to spare. "You ain't seen nothing yet!"
"Keep that up, and we might just make a pilot out of you," Zara said, her laughter a bright note in the intensity of the training space.
Jack's response was a whoop of joy as he pushed his mech to its limits, the sense of power and possibility charging every move. Yeah, he thought, bring it on, apocalypse. I'm ready for you now.
Jack's mech thundered across the training zone, its metal feet pounding the ground with seismic force. Zara had upped the ante, and now holographic enemies flickered into existence all around him, their weapons blazing with simulated lethality.
"Zara, are you trying to kill me or train me?" Jack shouted, the grin evident in his voice as he swiveled the rotary guns, dispatching a holographic foe with a burst of light.
"Both," Zara shot back, her tone dry as the desert above. "You won't survive out there with kid gloves on."
He couldn't argue with that. Jack pivoted the mech sharply to evade a laser blast that sizzled past, close enough to singe digital hairs, if he had any. He launched a volley of missiles in return, satisfaction blooming as his targets erupted in silent explosions. The air or what passed for it in the simulation crackled with energy and the scent of ozone.
"Jack, watch your six!" Zara’s voice sliced through the din, an edge of real concern breaking through.
Twisting the controls, Jack barely dodged a sneak attack from a particularly sneaky virtual adversary. With reflexes honed sharp as a blade, he executed a combat maneuver they'd just practiced, the mech spinning elegantly despite its bulk, retaliating with a ferocious uppercut that disintegrated the attacker in a shower of pixels.
"Is that all you've got?" Jack taunted the artificial intelligence orchestrating the assault, even as his heart raced with exhilaration.
"Careful what you wish for," Zara warned, her fingers dancing over her console to dial the difficulty even higher.
The next wave was a maelstrom of chaos, drones diving, ground units swarming, and artillery raining down like a tempest of fire and fury. Jack danced through it all, every motion fluid, every decision split-second. His mech was an extension of his will, and together they were unstoppable.
"Okay, okay, I yield!" Jack finally laughed breathlessly as the simulation wound down, the last of the holographic hazards fading away to reveal the bare walls of the training area once more.
"Yield? That word isn’t in your upcoming battles, Cooper," Zara chided lightly, but when she emerged from behind her console, her eyes held respect. "But you've come a long way. You're ready, Jack."
"Ready to kick some Zeraxian butt?" he asked, still catching his virtual breath.
"Exactly," Zara confirmed with a nod, her smile fierce and proud. "You've got guts, smarts, and now the skills to back it all up. Keep pushing those limits, and you might just save us all."
"Or die spectacularly trying," Jack quipped, climbing out of the mech with a new swagger. "But hey, at least it'll be an impressive show."
"Let's aim for the saving part," Zara said, her laughter mingling with his as they left the training area behind, stepping into whatever future the wasteland had in store.