Back in his flat, Kovacs sat before his multi-screen CAD setup, fingers tapping lightly on the console as he stared at the blank grid. His mind buzzed with everything he had seen in the system’s virtual space—the modular weapons systems, the compressed armor, the targeting upgrades. Each upgrade flashed in his thoughts, puzzle pieces slowly coming together. He knew the direction he wanted to take, but how to get there?

Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and started sketching the frame of a new design. He envisioned a medium-class mecha, something adaptable and versatile. Modular systems would give it the flexibility to handle multiple combat scenarios. The idea excited him— a mecha capable of swapping out weapons in the middle of a battle to match the opponent, all while staying light and mobile.

As he worked, the first lines of the exoskeleton took shape. He wanted it to be sleek yet sturdy, with room to add or remove armor depending on the mission requirements. The core would be reinforced to handle the stress of changing load-outs on the fly, and the arms would need to be robust and able to carry heavy weapon systems but still retain precision. It was a delicate balance, one that Kovacs found himself calculating over and over.

But then came the problem—what to call it?

He sat back, staring at the incomplete design floating on the screen. The frame was there, the potential obvious, but a name? The mecha needed a name that would embody its ability to adapt, morph, and shift with whatever challenges it faced, something that spoke to its duality—strength and flexibility, lethality and precision.

He frowned, running a hand through his hair. The concept was modular, yes, but it had more fluid adaptability—not just swapping parts but seamlessly integrating different systems—like a living thing that could evolve.

"Something... fluid," he muttered, pacing in front of the screens. His mind turned to mythology, as it often did when he needed inspiration. Beasts that could change form, creatures that adapted to their surroundings.

Then it hit him, “Hydra!”

Like the mythical serpent that grew more heads when one was cut off, this mecha could shift and adapt, trading out weapons and systems as needed, growing stronger with each new configuration. The Hydra had been relentless, unstoppable, and that's what he wanted this machine to be—an ever-changing force on the battlefield.

"Hydra," he said aloud, testing the word on his tongue. It felt right like it belonged to the machine taking form before him.

With renewed focus, Kovacs started adding details and refining the design. The Hydra would have dual missile racks like the Chimera but be more compact. It would also incorporate a pair of energy-based weapons for mid-range strikes. The modular weapon system he'd seen earlier would allow for fast reconfigurations, and the targeting system upgrades would ensure it could track multiple enemies with precision.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

His fingers flew across the keys, and within minutes, the Hydra began to look more like a completed mecha. He pulled up the system menu and began integrating the modular knowledge he had gathered. Each piece was methodically placed and built to work seamlessly with the others. It would be fast, adaptable, and deadly.

Kovacs leaned back again, eyeing the virtual Hydra taking shape on the screen. It wasn’t done yet, but he could see the potential.

"This could work," he muttered. "This... this could be something special."

And with that, he saved the file under its new name—Hydra.

***

One of the CID agents assigned to monitor Kovacs, Agent Hall, sat hunched over his console in the dimly lit surveillance room. He had been watching Kovacs for a week, gathering data, noting patterns, and logging every action. On the surface, the kid seemed ordinary enough—quiet, methodical, and unassuming. But something about him didn’t sit right with Hall, and tonight, that feeling deepened.

Through the feed from the bug placed in Kovacs’ flat, Hall listened as the young man muttered under his breath. Kovacs had been pacing back and forth for the past hour, his voice occasionally breaking the silence as he talked through design choices, considerations for modular systems, and weapons integration. It was typical engineer behavior that didn’t raise too many flags. But then Kovacs paused, his voice lowering to a more thoughtful tone.

"You don't teach people to do war... except that you need them to fight."

Hall frowned, leaning in closer to the monitor. That wasn’t something you’d expect a student to say. It was the kind of statement that sounded more like... introspection. Or a warning. Kovacs wasn’t just designing mecha—he was thinking about war and analyzing its nature. This wasn’t just a kid tinkering with machines.

The young man had stopped pacing, staring at the floor with a distant look in his eyes as though wrestling with something far larger than the designs floating in front of him.

“Humans excel at war,” Kovacs continued softly. “We create the most ingenious ways to kill the enemy and save our own. It pushes us forward... even if it destroys everything else.”

Hall’s fingers hovered over his keyboard as he typed in his report: Subject displayed unusual behavior—possible ideations about war and its purpose. Mental state potentially unstable.

For the first time, Hall was beginning to wonder if Kovacs was more than just a talented engineer. The odd pauses, the way he talked to himself, the sudden philosophical musings—it wasn’t normal. Not for someone who should be focused on technical designs. And there was something eerie about how detached Kovacs seemed from the violence inherent in what he was building. Most students would be excited by their projects, but Kovacs treated his work with cold, mechanical precision.

A sudden ping on the console interrupted Hall’s thoughts—a message from the CID’s intelligence officer. They were asking for an update.

He quickly typed a response. The subject continues to exhibit strange behavior, and we will continue to monitor for potential red flags.

Hall’s gaze shifted back to the screen, watching Kovacs sit on his bed, lost in thought. Whatever was going on with this kid, it was only getting more curious. Kovacs wasn’t just building mechas—he was analyzing war itself. And Hall had the uneasy feeling that there was more beneath the surface.

Switching the view to infrared, he noted Kovacs' neural activity spiking. Interesting... he thought, as his screen flared with the faint glow of Kovacs' wristband—the same wristband that had baffled the CID's tech division for weeks.

Hall leaned back, lips pressed into a thin line. He needed to keep a closer eye on this one. Something was off.