The hum of fluorescent lights filled the room, casting a sterile glow over the conference table. Captain Derek Reeve leaned back in his chair. The screen before him displayed detailed schematics of two mecha: the Epona and the Devil's Mantis. He frowned, tapping the stylus against the table.

“This kid’s good,” he muttered, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

Across from him, Lieutenant Sandra Horne adjusted her glasses, studying the same designs. “You’re telling me these came from a student? It’s hard to believe. The precision in the Devil's Mantis is remarkable—look at how he integrated the old tech. It’s not perfect, but how he’s handled the stability issue is almost... elegant.”

Beside her, Sergeant Tom Barlow rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It’s like he’s been doing this for years. The Epona, in particular—there’s a kind of flair to the design that you don’t see often. The lines and balance are nearly at the level of seasoned professionals. And how he’s used first and second-generation tech as the foundation...”

“Don’t forget he started with the base of a previously designed mecha,” Horne added.

“Which raises the question,” Captain Reeve cut in, his voice firm, “Who the hell is this kid, and how did he manage to slip under our radar?”

Lieutenant Horne shrugged, her eyes never leaving the screen. “According to his file, he was in the technician program. We have SID looking into his background, so up until two years ago, he virtually didn’t exist. Now, he’s a student, that much we know. But what’s odd is how little we know about him. He had no significant online presence until recently, no signs of prior experience—yet here he is, designing mechas that could rival some of our own prototypes.”

“Maybe he’s a savant,” Sergeant Barlow suggested, half-joking. “Or someone’s feeding him information.”

“Unlikely,” Reeve countered, shaking his head. “The way these designs come together, it’s too... organic. He’s not just regurgitating data—he’s creating and innovating. For instance, the Devil's Mantis is a scout mecha, but it’s built with anti-infantry capabilities that you wouldn’t typically see at this level. It’s like he understands battlefield dynamics instinctively.”

Horne leaned forward, intrigued. “The Epona’s sensor array—it’s not state-of-the-art, but the way he’s configured it, it’s optimized for the mecha’s role. It’s clear he’s thinking strategically, not just technically.”

“So what do we do?” Barlow asked, looking between the two. “We’ve got a kid out there who’s got the potential to disrupt the entire industry, and he’s flying under the radar. Do we recruit him? Keep an eye on him?”

Reeve considered the options, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. “We watch him for now. There is no need to spook him, but I want regular updates on his progress. If he’s this good already, we must ensure he’s on our side before someone snatches him up.”

Horne nodded in agreement. “And if he keeps this up, maybe we should consider pulling him in. Give him a taste of what he could do with real resources.”

Barlow smirked. “Hell, if he keeps this up, he might design our next generation of mecha before he graduates.”

Reeve’s gaze lingered on the screen, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s see what this kid can do. I feel we haven’t seen the best of him yet.”

***

Kovacs pushed through the pain and discomfort from his hip, making him slightly lightheaded as he returned to school. The pill he had taken earlier dulled the sharp edge of his pain, but it left him feeling queasy, a bitter taste lingering at the back of his throat. He gritted his teeth, determined to get through the day. Materials science was critical, and he couldn’t afford to fall behind.

The lecture droned on, the professor’s voice a steady monotone that made focusing challenging. Kovacs scribbled notes, but his thoughts were scattered, half concentrated on the lesson, half on the specs for the mecha he was working on. The professor’s discussion on the properties of different alloys blurred with his ideas on optimizing the old mecha designs.

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Finally, the lecture ended, and the students filtered into the lab. Kovacs found his station and started setting up, arranging his notes and tools with practiced efficiency. His lab partner, Lisa Donnelly, arrived a few minutes later, her bright energy dampened by the early hour.

"Morning, Kovacs," Lisa greeted, eyeing him curiously. "You look like you’ve been through the wringer."

Kovacs forced a smile. "Rough night. Got stuck on a project and lost track of time."

Lisa nodded sympathetically as she pulled up a stool beside him. "We’ve all been there. What are we working on today?"

Kovacs glanced over the lab sheet, but his mind was already racing ahead. "Professor Thornton suggested I try making a small piece of armor based on the formula I’ve been working on," he said, keeping his voice low. He was cautious about sharing too much, knowing the stakes were higher now with his secret project for the crime lord.

Lisa raised an eyebrow, impressed. "He trusts you with that already? You must be onto something good."

"Maybe," Kovacs replied, trying to sound modest, though the compliment boosted his confidence. "It’s just a basic test, but I think it could be a step forward."

As they prepared the materials, Lisa shot him curiously. "So, what’s special about your formula?"

Kovacs hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It’s a compressed armor design. I’m trying to balance weight and durability but with a focus on using common materials. The idea is to make something practical but still effective."

"Sounds ambitious," Lisa remarked, measuring out the compounds with a precise hand. "Think it’ll hold up?"

"We’ll see," Kovacs said, more to himself than to her. His mind was already picturing the armor on the Fusilier, imagining how it might transform the mecha’s capabilities.

They worked silently for a while, mixing the elements carefully, ensuring everything was precise. Kovacs found himself lost in the process, the nausea and pain in his hip fading as he focused on the task. The systematic nature of the work was almost soothing, a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind.

After a while, Lisa broke the silence. "If this works, it could really put you on the map."

Kovacs looked up from the beaker he was heating, meeting her gaze. "That’s not the plan," he said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty gnawing at him. “I’m just trying to work up some things I can use for several projects. You know, in Iron Reaper, but they don’t have a place to test theories. You have to use an established patent.”

They continued working, the minutes slipping by until the sample was ready. Kovacs carefully poured the mixture into a small mold, watching it cool and set. The next step was to test its properties, seeing if it held up under pressure.

As they waited, Lisa glanced at him. "So, what’s your endgame with this? You’re always working on something but never say much about your plans."

Kovacs leaned back slightly, feeling the tension in his muscles ease. "last week, I'd have said to get a good job as a mech tech. Now? Now I want to be a mecha designer; no, I want to be the best designer."

Lisa nodded, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. "Well, whatever you’re working on, I’m sure it will be impressive."

"Thanks," Kovacs said, a hint of gratitude in his tone. "Let’s hope it works out." The sample continued to cool, and Kovacs found his mind wandering again. He couldn’t shake the feeling that every step he took was being watched.

As the sample cooled, Kovacs shifted in his seat, trying to find a position that didn’t aggravate his hip. The lab was quiet, save for the equipment hum, and he could feel Lisa’s curious gaze on him. Finally, she broke the silence.

"So, what’s your endgame with this?" Lisa asked, her voice casual but probing. "You’re always working on something but never really talk about your plans."

Kovacs leaned back slightly, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. "A week ago, I’d have said my goal was to get a solid job as a mech tech. Something stable, you know?" He paused, glancing at the cooling sample before him. "But now? Now I want to be a mecha designer. No—scratch that. I want to be the best mecha designer."

Lisa raised her eyebrows, impressed by the conviction in his voice. "That’s a big leap. What changed?"

He hesitated, feeling the weight of his ambition. "A lot’s happened lately. Let’s say I’ve been pushed into situations that made me rethink everything. I’ve got the chance to do something bigger that could make a difference."

Lisa nodded slowly, sensing more beneath the surface, but she didn’t press him. "Well, whatever you’re working on, I’m sure it will be impressive. You’ve got the drive for it."

"Thanks," Kovacs said, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. "Let’s just hope it works out. I’ve got a good bit riding on this."

As the sample continued to cool, Kovacs found his mind wandering. He couldn’t shake the feeling that every move he made was being watched and scrutinized. The pressure was mounting, but so was his determination. This was his chance, and he wouldn’t let it slip away.