Jackie Stewart sat on the edge of her bed, still wearing what she thought of as her pilot jumpsuit, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her jacket. The day had been long, filled with simulations and training. She was so happy it was summer, but she found she was looking forward to a quiet evening. But that plan was abruptly shattered when she heard the front door slam shut, followed by her father's heavy footsteps.

“Jackie!” his voice boomed through the house, laced with an edge she hadn’t heard in a long time. Something was wrong.

She quickly stood up and walked out of her room, her jacket still clutched in her hand, down the stairs. Her father was in the living room, still in his best work suit. His usually calm face was tense, and his brow furrowed with worry.

“Dad? What’s going on?” she asked cautiously, her stomach knotting unease.

He turned to her, eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read something in her expression. “I had a friend at the ministry ask me a strange question today. He wanted to know why the military was asking about you.”

Jackie’s heart skipped a beat, the jacket slipping from her grasp landing on the floor with a rustle of cloth. “The military? Asking about me? Why?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” her father replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “You haven’t done anything to draw their attention, have you? Been involved in anything you shouldn’t be?”

“No! Of course not,” Jackie stammered, her mind racing. “I’ve just been playing Iron Reaper, that’s all. You know how much time I spend in the simulations. But… why would they be interested in me?”

Her father’s expression softened slightly, though the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. The military doesn’t just ask questions like that for no reason. They must have noticed something.”

Jackie felt a mixture of fear bubbling up inside her. The military was interested in her. It was something she had never even considered—a path that had seemed far beyond her reach. But if they were looking at her, it meant they saw something in her, something she hadn’t even seen in herself.

“Do you think… they want me to join them?” she asked hesitantly, the words feeling foreign on her tongue.

Her father sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. “I don’t know, Jackie. But whatever it is, it’s serious. I need you to be careful. This isn’t something to take lightly. If the military is watching you, it means they have big plans.”

Jackie nodded slowly, trying to absorb the weight of his words. Her mind was spinning with possibilities, fears, and hopes all at once. The idea of being recruited by the military was daunting but also exhilarating. Could this be the chance she had been waiting for?

“I’ll be careful, Dad,” she finally said, her voice steady. “But… maybe this is a good thing. Maybe this is my chance to do something...” she said falteringly, not knowing what she would want to do.

Her father looked at her, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and concern. “Just remember, Jackie, whatever happens, you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. You’re my daughter, and I want what’s best for you. But I also know you’re capable of more than you realize.”

She smiled faintly, feeling the warmth of his words. “Thanks, Da. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As he pulled her into a tight embrace,

***

Don Johnson leaned back in his plush, high-backed leather chair, his eyes narrowing as he studied the darkening skyline of the city through the wide window behind his desk. The weight of his thoughts bore down on him, as heavy as the thick mahogany desk that separated him from the rest of the world. Across from him, Edward Alphanse, his long-time confidant and advisor, sat calmly in a similarly imposing chair, a thick folder of documents and reports balanced on his knee.

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The room was dimly lit, with shadows playing across the rich wood paneling and expensive artwork on the walls. The only real light came from a single antique desk lamp, casting a warm, golden glow over the surface of Johnson’s desk, where a crystal tumbler of whiskey sat untouched.

Johnson’s voice broke the silence, low and deliberate. “What’s the latest on our young prodigy, Edward? How’s Kovacs coming along with the mecha?”

Alphonse took a moment to open the folder, his eyes scanning the reports with practiced ease. He flipped through several pages, each with detailed schematics, performance evaluations, and timelines. Finally, he looked up, meeting Johnson’s gaze with a measured expression. “He’s doing well, Don. It's better than I expected, to be honest. Kovacs has identified key areas where the older models can be upgraded—armor, weaponry, and sensors. He’s focusing on bringing these outdated mecha up to modern standards, and I must say, the kid’s got an eye for detail.”

Johnson raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I knew he had potential. But what’s the timeline looking like? The Iron Wolves won’t wait forever, and neither will we.”

Alphonse leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming more serious. “Kovacs is thorough, maybe a little too thorough. He’s not just slapping on upgrades and calling it a day. He’s meticulously planning out every step—what materials to use, how to integrate the upgrades without compromising the existing systems, and even considering the combat history of these mecha to predict how they’ll perform after the modifications.”

Johnson’s smile faded as he tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the desk. “That’s good in the long run, but we don’t have time. How soon can we get these mecha operational?”

Alphonse didn’t hesitate. “If he sticks to his current pace, we should have the first batch ready within three weeks, just in time to meet the Iron Wolves’ deadline. But I’ll make sure he understands the importance of hitting that target. We can’t afford any delays.”

“Three weeks…” Johnson mused, his mind already calculating the potential risks and rewards. “And the Iron Wolves—what’s their status? Are they as clean as we need them to be?”

Alphanse allowed himself a small, knowing smile. “As clean as mercenaries get. They’re professional and well-funded, and they operate within the grey areas of the law. They take on missions the regular military won’t touch—high-risk, high-reward operations. They need reliable mecha and are willing to pay top dollar for them. If this goes well, we could lock in a long-term contract with them.”

Johnson nodded, his fingers now drumming more rhythmically on the desk. “And you’re confident they won’t trace this back to us? The last thing we need is unwanted attention.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Alphonse replied, his voice smooth and reassuring. “We’re just the suppliers. The Iron Wolves handle the dirty work and have a reputation for getting results without leaving a trail. If we play our cards right, we can keep our hands clean and make a fortune in the process.”

Johnson’s eyes narrowed further, his mind churning through the implications. “So, we’re looking at a high-reward situation with minimal risk. Supply the mecha, let the Wolves do what they do best, and we reap the benefits. Sounds straightforward, but we both know things rarely go according to plan.”

Alphonse nodded, acknowledging the unspoken truth. “There’s always a risk, Don. But that’s why we’re being cautious. We’ve vetted the Iron Wolves thoroughly and’ll keep Kovacs focused on the task at hand. He’s our golden goose, whether he realizes it or not. His designs could set us up for years.”

Johnson leaned back in his chair, a calculating expression on his face. “Keep a close eye on him, Edward. Ensure he has everything, but don’t let him get too comfortable. I want those mecha ready on time—no excuses.”

“I’ll handle it,” Alphonse assured him, closing the folder with a decisive snap. “The Iron Wolves are expecting delivery within the month. I’ll make sure we meet their deadline and keep you updated on Kovacs’ progress.”

Johnson nodded, his gaze drifting back to the window as he contemplated the path ahead. “And Edward, one more thing—if Kovacs starts showing any signs of hesitation or if he even thinks about backing out, remind him what’s at stake. We’re all in this together, and there’s no turning back now.”

Alphanse rose from his chair, gathering the folder under his arm. “Understood. I’ll keep him on track.”

“Just remember Alphonse, he needs his arms and hands, everything else…” He said deadpan.

As Alphonse left the room, Johnson remained seated, his mind still contemplating the possibilities. The stakes were high, but the potential rewards were higher. If everything went according to plan, the mecha Kovacs was working on would be the key to their future success—a new chapter in Johnson’s expanding empire, one that would solidify their place in a rapidly changing world.