It's typically considered unwise to initiate operations against BETA later in the day, if the option to take the initiative exists in the hands of a commander. The BETA don't care for the status of light levels. They see on a visual spectrum far surpassing the natural capabilities of humanity. They are tireless, pitiless machines that only need fueling and recharging at a nearby Hive before continuing their unceasing march to their next objective. A great mass of hyper lethality, a tide of alien flesh that sees humans as only materials to be harvested. And thus, each scrap of awareness, to make it easier for an individual pilot or soldier to spot the inevitable attempted ambush for a Grappler-class, was pursued in the planning stages of any such operation.
But that wasn't the case with the Legion. As an autonomous force that utilized massed - or perhaps miniaturized - forms of Solar Energy collection technology to handle the overwhelming majority of its logistical needs, they tended to avoid night time operations save for harvesting the greatest potential advantage. For all that the Legion appeared functionally limitless to the humans of the Human Reform League, they were possessed of their own limitations all the same. Their own logistical struggles. If they didn't, then that fight for survival would be truly meaningless.
Their sacrifice would be meaningless.
"Ara?" A condescending voice interrupted her thoughts, strained eyes staring at the tactical map displayed on a screen in front of her. The time for the operation was nigh, and Vladilena Milize would not be distracted by a different puffed up scientist, one that didn't even have the good grace to have befriended her for most of her life first.
The sound of sharp heels against metal tiling filled the darkness, fluorescent blue lighting revealing a white lab coat, worn atop a stylized purple and blue uniform. A patch marked "Alternative IV" is barely visible in the low light.
"Quite rude to ignore your benefactor Ms. Exile, isn't it?"
"The operation is about to begin," Lena bit her lip in annoyance, "Civilians shouldn't interrupt Handlers."
"Handlers, right? Even now, you still hold on to that title, don't you dear?" A giggle escapes the older woman, an arm passing over a sizable chest to raise a hand to lips quirked into a sharp edged smile, "But I'm hardly a civilian, am I? Or did you forget who's landship you and your precious little Devicers are operating out of, hm?"
"Processers," Lena grits out.
"Ara? Oh dear! I'm so sorry, it's just…" The woman continues as an index finger rises within Lena's line of sight before wagging, "I'm afraid that all these silly terms that these foolish empires set up to refer to their versions of eishi all sound the same to me. Equally meaningless, wouldn't you say?"
That is their pride, Lena doesn't say. She doesn't need to, as the alarms flash on screen before Lena, announcing the beginning of Operation Carom. Fifteen markers traveled swiftly through the tactical plot from a position to the east of the AOO, marked P-1 through P-15.
"Rather desperate, isn't it?" The older woman said dismissively, "I admit that this is the best defensive terrain imaginable, but wasting resources on this type of forlorn hope operation is just a waste."
"It's not a waste," Lena replied heatedly, "The lives they're risking here, they'll save so many more."
"Easy for you to say, sitting here in the back, I suppose." A shrug, "Oh! How silly of me! Weren't you the one who had that mobile headquarters in San Magnolia? What were you called again?" The exaggerated gestures of the elder woman condense into a considering tap of unseen lips, "Sanguine Leslie?"
"...Bloody Regina." The Alba said with a sigh, "I didn't ask for any such thing."
"Well, better than that other nickname of yours." The scientist said with a teasing, threatening lilt, "Still, it's pure luck that those mercenaries acquired one of the Legions catapults, no? To turn it immediately towards this operation is a bit of a rush, though I suppose its not as if they can take it with them, no?"
The lead unit, P-13 vanished. Alerts popped up indicating Laser interdiction of the battlespace, pinpointing the assumed location based on the battlenet. Lena frowned as she reached to the back of her neck, where her technological collar rested - the sign of her being a Handler. Her connection to her Processors. The PARA-Raid. It shines with a pulsing, electronic blue as it connects her into the wider network.
"Laser-class confirmed, commence bombardment."
"As you command, My Queen."
Lena grimaced as the walls and floor began shaking, the landship she was commanding from shaking as it began lobbing shell after shell into the air above the battlespace.
"That's one down," The older woman says, voice cold, "An interesting choice to ask for me to serve as a glorified taxi, and not negotiate for Valkyrie Squadron."
"There's no need," Lena said, as the teams of Brisingamen Squadron chatted away, preparing for their own deployment to create a pocket to entrap the Legion and BETA, "You're demanding too much for this as is." The Alba girl frowned.
"I'm demanding precisely enough, girl. Even if someone superior to me in the working of high level processors - not the bad jokes you tell with that name - exists, you certainly didn't have the time or political capital to bring them to here in time for it to matter. And my time is more precious than you can possibly fathom."
"So you've said."
"So it is," The woman said, leaning forward to meet the younger girl's eyes. Low cut purple hair filling Lena's vision, "When all of humanity is at stake, I'm taking a considerable loss lending you my resources when quite frankly you're not likely to be able to pay me back."
"We'll succeed," Lena replied with absolute confidence, "This mess is the responsibility of we of San Magnolia, and so we'll make it right." Her voice turning hard, "Even if Pool Squadron fails, my Processors will charge forward and finish things. The Legion made a mistake in deploying a Weisel here. One we'll teach them the cost of."
The woman, Kouzuki Yuuko, leaned back with a skeptical hum, "Well, Wald already paid the down payment with that Carrier Organ. The least we can do is see it through."
Moments stretched, and the marker representing P-10 breaks away from the rest and makes its way Westward, towards the location of the gathered Laser-class on another peak overlooking the plateau that the battle was taking place on. The machine stands still, before a signal comes out from the machine, and the Laser Interdiction warning disappears from the tactical plot. Lena almost lets herself relax, before an another alert flashes across the screen, and P-10's status turns from green to red before vanishing completely.
"That's two," Kouzuki remarks indifferently.
The remaining members of Pool Squadron descent onto the plateau, breaking into three general elements - one heading to the position marked with the high concentration of immense heat indicative of the Morpho units. One towards a more diffuse but still large concentration of more basic Legion drones. And finally, P-1, P-5, P-7, P-9, and P-12 make their way towards the massive structure of the Mobile City sized Weisel factory unit.
"Brisingamen Squadron," Lena took a deep breath, feeling her awareness spread from the PARA-Raid into her Processors, "This is Handler Bloody Regina. All units - Advance!"
A chorus of affirmatives, Callsign Cyclops taking the lead as the shaking of the landship continues from its unceasing bombardment. Several dozen Juggernauts begin crawling their way south through the mountain passes to the battlespace, already seeking to create an exit route for whatever members of Pool Squadron survived.
Time passed, and as three units showed that they had arrived at their target, the Legion drones surrounding them grew more and more agitated on the tactical plot, before something unexpected happened.
A Laser interdiction alert flared up again, just as P-14 and P-15 vanished. Right before P-11's status went from green to yellow, before finally turning red, the plot updating to show a change in terrain amongst the Morphos on the battlespace.
"Five down."
The Handler grit her teeth, hands clenched, and something strange happened - P-5 broke away from his assignment, seemingly moving in a straight line towards the Morphos themselves. Which was in itself strange, as that detachment had already been within the Weisel.
And then it apparently sped over the distance between the Weisel and the Morphos, the plot updating with observed damage through the battlenet, showing one Morpho. Then two. Then a third and a fourth being destroyed over the course of several minutes. All at the hands of P-5.
A low whistle causes Lena to smother an urge to strike the woman behind her.
P-7 separates from his group, and an alert pings.
"Package delivered." Lena says with relief.
"Good." Kouzuki replies, "Now we just need them to survive long enough for us to reach that blasted factory and loot it."
P-12 reported the emergence of another large-scale Legion unit - a Tausendfluber - and that it was apparently engaged in combat against it.
"That's strange," She attempted to reach out to the Reginleif, but found it was inaccessible to her. That meant it was likely a unit produced by the Alliance, unconnected to San Magnolia's own technology.
Moments later, P-12 went down.
P-1 and P-9 arrived, too late. Engaging in combat, before P-1 escaped. Grabbing P-7 on its way out, sending out the "Mission Clear" signal over the battlenet as it began speeding its way North. When the battlespace itself updated…With an alert of the worst case scenario.
"Another Carrier-class, is it?" Kouzuki Yuuko mused, "Well, I suppose we can write off the rest, so long as you have your little tin soldiers prioritize getting that delivery driver out. It looks like she has a gift for us." With a chuckle, the Director of Alternative IV turned around and left, already making preparations to welcome Pool-1 when she arrived, bounty in hand.
"The battle isn't over yet," Lena muttered, her eyes narrowing.
"It's still too soon to call this a Triumph."
...
POOL SQUADRON
Akul Kanodia
Akul Kanodia - the man with No Face, callsign Pool-13. The unlucky number willingly embraced out of some kind of despair, perhaps a wish to the end of his suffering in the name of a worthy cause. Due to the nature of his Ouroboric Gaze, he alone among Pool Squadron emitted the near-Quantum brainwaves of a powerful psychic, immediately drawing the attention of the Legion anti-air drones - as per the plan - and in a moment was the target of startlingly intense combined fire. But the engineers of the Alliance had planned for this, and had encased him in a mighty shell resembling a great lumbering machine, fully capable of trading blows with even a Morpho or Fort-class.
Thus, perhaps it was inevitable that the BETA's hidden trump card - a cunningly placed set of Heavy Laser-classes kneeling within a valley on the western peaks of the Alliance's territory - revealed themselves. Demonstrating that the crucial Mobile City-sized Legion Weisel was under the protection of Laser interdiction from the very start.
As his vision was filled with searing photons, Kanodia's death was the catalyst of a miraculous feat of alchemy: What had once been the facade of a mech evaporated into a cloud of heavy metal - scattering anti-Laser dust over the air as the rest of Pool Squadron descended.
Parts: None
Reputation: DECEASED
Reputation Level Equivalent: 0/350
Purchase Points: 0
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 0/5
Alexis Satoshi
Pool-7 - Alexis Satoshi - was on loan from the Extra Over Technology Investigation Institute, the prototype of using nanomaterials to enshroud a human shell and fight against mecha-scale adversaries. As such, he was assigned to the team to be escorted directly into the Weisel, where he might be able to use his own nanomachines to interface with the nanomaterial of the Legion machine itself, hopefully introducing catastrophic sabotage into the structure, or at the very least creating a vulnerability that could be further exploited by his comrades in Pool Squadron.
The "Horsefly" would ordinarily be consigned to a scrapheap, but inexplicably it was capable of maneuverability far in excess of what it should have when in mid-air, while also infusing its material composition with an astounding level of durability. So inevitably, the Horsefly found itself grappling to the hood of Pool-1s own vehicle, providing sorely needed firepower to their intended infiltration vehicle. Forming the backbone of the strategy, Alexis and the Horsefly found themselves deep within the flash forged guts of the Weisel, the anomalous structure no obstacle to Pool-1, the distraction provided by the San Magnolia Brisingamen Squadron proving a sufficient diversion of enemy resources.
Arriving in the heart of the Weisel, P-1 promptly dropped off the Horsefly, and Alexis took the opportunity to exit the machine and make his preparations. But the moment he attempted to have his "Nano Gears" interface with the Legion Nanomaterial, it reacted, attempting to pin him in place - his connection with the raging Processor within it bringing him an awareness that the machines main defender - a Dinosaurus was approaching. Acting desperately, he subverted the material strangling him just in time to return to the Horsefly, the compromised Nanomaterial now obeying the machines already within his bloodstream, sweeping out to subsume the rusted limbs of his personal unit. (+1 Damage, +1 Exotic Arms - Legion).
The Dinosaurus communicated to him through the captured Nanomaterial - he had been an 86, once. Communicating a sad tale of revenge that resonated with the pilot, the two dueled - the flamethrower equipped Legion machine overcoming even the purple particle enhanced defenses of the Horsefly to damage its internals (+1 Damage). But in a moment of desperation, the Nanomaterial Alexis had gained punched through the armor of the legged tank, putting an end to its Processors revenge. Pool-7 returned to his mission - now uninterrupted - and uploaded the viral package into the Weisel's systems over the screams, protests and grief of its distraught controlling intelligence.
Pool-1 arrived soon after, and once back in the Horsefly they escaped as the Weisel began to malfunction, its fabricators turned towards self destructive purpose. Killing a City - truly a legendary feat, even if he hadn't done the most glamorous part of it himself. (+100 Reputation, +40 Reputation).
Parts: Exotic Arms (Legion)
Reputation: Potential
Reputation Level Equivalent: 143/350
Purchase Points: 0
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 3/5
Doctor Ommik
Doctor Ommik - Pool-10 - as a mad bioengineer was tasked with the role of countering any BETA presence around the Weisel. Once he had revealed the nature of his Viral Lifeform X, it had been believed to be the trump card they needed to stop the Legion. And if it just became a problem later on? The good Doctor assured the Alliance's military planners that he was fully capable of putting down that which he rose up. For an appropriate level of funding, of course. With that, his infested machine was programmed with sensors that would pick up on and prioritize any Laser-class BETA that could be detected in the AOO, something that he had been assured would be easily traceable courtesy of the artillery support they were promised to have coming from an approaching landship.
So when Pool-13 was atomized, spreading the anti-laser cover over the battlespace, the Doctor realized with some degree of horror that he had been perhaps underestimated the danger of this mission - but his machine was still able to use an existing strain to create temporary wings with which to glide through the heavy metal cloud, the nature of his Viral lifeform seeming to further confuse the Lasers targeting protocols long enough to arrive at the pack of them.
At which point he commanded his creation - EAT.
A mass of amorphous flesh loosed from the infested machine, descending upon the BETA pack, great emitter eyes burning desperately as escorting Grapplers and Tanks leapt into the fleshy mass to try and save them, only to be absorbed in turn. And the Doctor found this good, the older man relaxing while his masterpiece got to work. Though the Laser classes somehow took far longer to digest then his estimates of creatures of their biomass would otherwise suggest-
His alarms blared.
Abruptly, Doctor Ommik turned his machines sensors to the source of the alarm itself. The sharply taped limbs of bladed insects climbed over the lip of the ridge upon which the Heavy Lasers had been placed, revealing shimmering chrome.
He commanded the flesh of his creation to cease its meal and return to him before it was too late - but whatever substance within the Heavy Lasers had been hard to digest had destabilized the viral lifeform itself - it couldn't move enough of its mass in time.
From the largest of them, a gout of white hot flame bleached the mountaintop, then scorched all than remained into nothing more than blackened, dead charcoal.
Parts: None
Reputation: DECEASED
Reputation Level Equivalent: 0/350
Purchase Points: 0
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 0/5
Dominik Remigio Miller (DoReMi)
Dominik Remigio Miller - callsign Pool-11 - was a veteran of an AEU Garrison in the Carpathian Mountains, at the barest limits of the Catastrophic Manifestation Zone that defined most of Asia, near the former Romania. Using Tactical Surface Fighters developed by the HRL's own teams and expertise, DoReMi would sally with his old units to help cull wandering BETA herds that sought to escape into AEU territory proper. The inevitable tragedy that resulted would come to define his life, filling him with rage and a wish for vengeance on behalf of his lost squadron. So it was only natural that he go to Wald, to deny the aliens their prize of innocent life.
And when the opportunity to make a decisive strike to end the attack presented itself, he took it - after all, the Legion were but machines as well. Far more likely to be vulnerable to the ECM baffling than the biological sensory organs of the BETA. So when he took the name of Pool-11, he was assigned to get into the midst of the Morpho's that had been determined to accompany the deployed Weisel, as well as their own escorts in turn to allow the rest of the Squadron to accomplish their tasks.
With Pool-13's sacrifice, he was accompanied by Pool-14 and 15 as he moved into position, the overly modified Tieren and F-15J providing the heavy firepower to overcome the Morpho's armor while he kept the Legion helpless to resist. Everything went according to plan…at first, P-14 unloading specialized armor-piercing rounds into the bodies of the Morpho's and Dinosauria, the F-15J unleashing its chainguns into the lesser drones as they spasmed - unable to bring their own weaponry to bear.
Until an alarm blared, and heated photons struck Pool-15 in center mass. A single laser class standing atop a spasming Morpho, already re-orienting its gaze onto the weighted-down Tieren - its legs in the grasp of Tank-class that had crawled undetected, their own sensors limited by the high strength signals emitting from DoReMi's TSF. Pool-14 snapped off a shot in one of the most graceful movements Dominik had ever seen from a mobile suit - splattering the Laser-class just as he was drowned beneath the swarming red Tank-class BETA.
Again - he'd lost Squadmates again! His mind boiled over with rage, the emotion overtaking everything as he withdrew a progressive sword from the side of his TSF, green energy bleeding into red as he lost control of himself. Green panels turned the shade of fires of hell, and the light particles that served as the carrier waves for his ECM doubled, redoubled in intensity. Turning a number of brighter and brighter shades, even as more BETA attempted to swarm, eventually becoming a dazzling explosion in seven colors, leaving a bleached crater in the center of the battlefield and the Legion at large too stunned from sensory overload to act. If only for a moment.
Parts: None
Reputation: DECEASED
Reputation Level Equivalent: 0/350
Purchase Points: 0
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 0/5
Faafo
Of the members of Pool Squadron, P-12 - Faafo, no last name - was the only one equipped with the eponymous mobile weapon of the Alliance of Wald; the Reginleif. The scale being on a level imminently compatible with the Zentaur's own electromagnetic catapults, Faafo was intended to join Pool-1 and Pool-7 in infiltrating the Weisel, but by some accident of chance he was struck by glancing artillery fire, gliding off target and landing on top of the colossal mobile city-sized factory complex rather than entering behind P-1's own point of entry.
Within moments Faafo was surrounded by varying drones, disgorged directly from within the innards of the Weisel. But he'd already made his peace - his life was intended to be spent buying time and safety for the innocent civilians of Wald, and so he struck. Heroically piloting his Reginleif with a supernatural skill and death defying maneuvers that would have in better times had him mistaken for the infamous Undertaker.
As the scrap of Legion drones accumulated over the mobile city scale roof, there came a moment when the great mass of the factory ship shuddered, then came to a stop. The drones pursuing Faafo paused in turn, before retreating back to the crevices and portholes which they had crawled out of. Chrome plating shivered in their wake.
Shook.
The vibrations easily setting Faafo on edge within his own machine…Until a great plate of chrome armor split in two, opening up. And with an unholy scream a great black serpentine machine rose from within its innards - anemically small legs twitching to and fro upon its length.
A Tausendfluber had appeared. P-12 was now determined worthy of direct acquisition.
The intensity of the battle to come was unreal. Faafo's body proving unable to survive the forces he was subjecting it to as he endlessly maneuvered and repositioned himself in order to evade the great black machines attempts to swallow him, and strike back with his high-frequency vibrating blades in turn - his machines main cannon proving useless against the thick black steel of the snake-like machine he was facing.
Yet the Reginleif is ultimately a machine built for speed and agility - not endurance. The unreal intensity of the battle had proven too much; a leg snapped as weight was forced into it to enable a dodge…And that was it.
As simple and sudden as that.
Parts: None
Reputation: DECEASED
Reputation Level Equivalent: 0/350
Purchase Points: 0
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 0/5
Joshua Evans
Joshua Evans - Callsign P-8 - was a man possessed of highly developed senses to the point others might call him precognitive, a rare but not unheard of thing among Arts Users or Cyclopes…But Evans was neither. A pureblooded Britannian, born and raised in space. Originally intending to go to Laterno for the Novel Originium mission, he'd somehow had the paperwork to go to Wald processed by mistake. Thus when his PMC Trust transport came along, Evans was instead deposited in the unwinnable battle instead.
However, he instinctively knew. Understood - even as he evaded Laser interdiction, dodged Morpho bombardments - that standing still and waiting to die would only ever be that. And frankly, being at the front of Ppol Squadron struck him as the surer route to survival. How did he know? Just a feeling.
As Pool Squadron fell upon their intended battlefield, he watched with a cringe as his intended partner - P-10 - glide towards the mountaintop that had evaporated P-13, before turning to focus on his own landing strategy. Eventually, his machine smoothly reached the ground, landing amongst a swarm of Ameise. Which, while hardly the most glorious target, were still deadly foes for the innocent to face down.
His precognitive skills were used to brilliant effect - enabling him to dodge around the Ameise's attempts to bring him down, while Evans wiped them out by the dozens. But as the battle stretched from seconds into minutes, and finally near the thirty minute mark, the ground beneath him shook. Trembling with the shockwaves of massive amounts of solid stone being shoved aside, pulverized.
And then with an unearthly heave and moan, Evans was barely able to emergence of a great fleshy beast - a Carrier-class BETA, arriving to the Legion's headquarters in this campaign. The Carrier's arrival tossed is machine aside, into the newly disgorged BETA swarm, overwhelming him nearly instantly (+3 Damage). But he refused to give up.
Moving from slaughtering Legion drones, to the smaller BETA strains as they all attempted to overwhelm him relentlessly. Eventually culminating in a Destroyer-class column forming up to charge through the battlefield - a move he wouldn't allow. Evans threw everything he had into ending the threat before it could materialize, and in doing so denied the BETA an easy means to steal the momentum of the fighting back from humanity, his machines record of BETA killed in a single engagement setting a new world record, one that would go unchallenged for quite some time (+80 Reputation).
Parts: None
Reputation: Potential
Reputation Level Equivalent: 86/350
Purchase Points: 0
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 2/5
Leomon
The Wizard-Knight Leomon, born in the land of Witchelny, has taken on new names since entering the human world: Leo, to those who know him by his glamour. Pool-5, by those who fought alongside him that day. Tasked with a mission, a forlorn hope from a dying home, doomed by the need to sacrifice its future for the sake of a bare few more moments of life. Looking upon the Mountains of Wald, Leomon felt kinship. Far more with the people there than the digitized abominations that sought to strike down so many innocents. As a knight, as a squire, as the Guardian entrusted with the Spirit of Metal, he could do no less.
For days Leomon battled, learning the nature of those twisted horrors of flesh and coding. Both in their own ways parodies of his fellow 'mon. So frustrated he became, so anguished, that when the time came for a final desperate ploy to break the back of the invasion while strength still remained among Wald's defenders his honor could not help but answer that call.
As part of the ill-fated defense since the beginning, Leomon's fighting style and coding were considered to be an application of Arts, and thus his large form found itself shoved into the vehicle of P-1, riding shotgun so that his Fist of the Beast King could break through any obstacles, and bringing P-7 to the core of the Weisel to introduce his viral package into its processor. The plan appeared to go off without any flaws, despite the losses - but those had always been anticipated. A mere fifteen units against division strength Legion and BETA detachments would never be anything less than deadly.
Even so, as the three remaining in the car drove around the mobile city sized factory, low persistent buzz in Leomon's ears escalated - becoming a keen wail of rage and pain, a sound too familiar. With a leap and a roar he escaped the car, tearing a path back out the great factory as his human guise fell away to reveal his true form, breaking out just in time to witness the destructive detonation among the Legion's Morphos - but too late to stop it.
With four Morphos free to act, it wouldn't matter if the Weisel was destroyed by that point. The presence of Heavy Laser BETA in reserve combined with the Legion drones already present all but guaranteed that the collapse of Wald's defensive lines were an inevitability should the political situation not change. He made his decision, charging towards the towering railgun artillery even as Dominik's final act began to fade away, But it was enough time, just barely.
The first image the Processors of the Morphos recorded upon returning to full functionality was of a humanoid figure standing on the lip of a crater lined with pure white crystals, feline lips were drawn back in a snarl. With a hiss of metal a greatsword is unsheathed and leveled, streams of ones and zeroes encircling the blade with sorcerous programming.
Mountain stone trembled, the fleshy forms of BETA emerging to support the mechanical behemoths, including the lumbering form of a Fort-class, casting a shadow even over the Morphos. But that did not stop him.
That day, Leomon battled until the sun set, the Morphos too busy attempting to contain him to wield their greatest weapons. The BETA unable to survive him. And though all were manufactured beings to a degree, it was the giant constructions that reached exhaustion first - the legs of the Fort-class BETA joined their severed stingers, blown out by manifested fists of the beast king. The reactive armor of the Morphos unable to resist the data-cleaving blade in Leomon's hand, carving open chrome until he could identify the locations of their Kernal control centers, their screams upon being discovered something beyond human comprehension. When the day had passed, Leomon sat upon the mountain of his foes, prizes in hand (+1 Damage, +Exotic Legs (Legion), +Exotic Armor (Legion), +Exotic Power (Legion), and place in legend secured (+440 Reputation).
Parts: Exotic Legs (Legion), Exotic Armor (Legion), Exotic Power (Legion)
Reputation: Potential
Reputation Level Equivalent: 455/350
Purchase Points: 0
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 4/5
Kamikoshi Shun
How had she found herself here, on this battlefield? The aspiring Doctor, who turned to illegal street racing to make ends meet, now exiled from her homeland, and then shanghai'd not just into a battle, but the battle. The one that would decide everything for this confederation of rump states…But she couldn't turn away from them. Not when they were so desperately in need. And whatever her car, her Hayabusa could manage, she would lend it to those people.
Which is how she found herself carrying two passengers in her car, and a third one stuck in his mobile suit clinging onto the roof of her car for dear life! Her objective here was simple - tap into her car's strange ability to seemingly teleport from one place to another, to maneuver through the Weisel at the heart of the Legion's side of the invasion, with one of Wald's spider-machines as backup - but that went awry off the bat, when her escort floated off course! Then the overly tall, muscular Arts user turned out to be some kind of furry who then ran off! The man in the rustbucket turned out to bleed machines! Eventually it was just her and P-9, and frankly part of her felt relieved, even as she gunned her way through the city-sized factory, her Hayabusa effortlessly evading any pursuit mounted against her…Until she felt an acute sense of threat, and drove her car up to the roof of the Weisel. The last remaining passenger tried his best to ward off the pursuing machines, up until they started to peel off the closer she came to the roof of the autonomous factory…Until she breached back into the open air again.
And saw a great, black snake silhouetted against the evening sky, lashing out again and again against the Reginleif that had peeled away from her on their descent, each dodge by the smaller machine becoming closer and closer, the strain becoming more and more obvious from the outside.
A sense of helplessness - how was she supposed to do anything here?!
A snap fills the air, and the Reginleif stumbles - the gigantic machine swoops in, clipping the more fragile machine - crushing its shell and sending it spinning. She watches as the Legion beast, the mechanical leviathan leans up, a great maw opening as it prepared to savor its kill.
Once again, Shun was filled with that bizarre, heady sensation and her foot fell upon the accelerator as if drawn by an irresistible gravity. The great black worm fell, only to be struck by the swooping descent of a true falcon, and was sent tumbling across the parody of a cityscape (+1 Damage), skidding to a stop beside the downed Reginleif. Her final passenger - P-9 - stepped out from the back, already in his suit, and with the ease of a much larger machine tore the corpse of Faafo out from his coffin, stuffing him into the trunk.
"Go," He said, "This is…wrong."
The Weisel lurched, then. A keen death wail filled the air, and she gunned it for the innards of the machine with all speed - intent on at least saving P-7.
A task she managed successfully, managing to secure both the Horsefly and inexplicably a great prize as well - the physical kernel of the Weisel, complete with a treasure trove of potential intelligence and records on the Legions movements. She drove out from the Weisel, as the mountains shook, and a colossal BETA burst from the earth, but she drove North. The Weisel was slain, and she still had a life to live, as cowardly as it seemed. Upon breaking out of the battlefield, she reached the landship forwarded to the remnant San Magnolia Legion, where the infamous 86 survivors took her in, and that was the end of her fight.
After the battle her prize from the Weisel was even more valuable than she had believed - within the great factory ship were a number of experiments on fusing Legion technology with BETA fleshcrafting, including samples of the exotic materials that the BETA prized above all others, called "G-Elements", courtesy of a debriefing dealt by a severe Japanese woman with an insufferable attitude and purple hair. The designs gleaned from the Kernel were not suited for traditional mechs unfortunately, but for a pure vehicle they were more than good enough. (+1 Exotic Power - BETA, +1 Exotic Armor - BETA, +1 Exotic Armor - Legion). Along with the intelligence on the nature of the leadup to the attack breaking the political deadlock, Kamikoshi Shun became famous as one of the greatest heroes of the Mountains of Wald (+160 Reputation) along with an immense payout from the coffers of a grateful Human Reform League Chairman Ernst Zimmerman (+30 Purchase Points)
Parts: Exotic Armor (Legion), Exotic Armor (BETA), Exotic Armor (BETA)
Reputation: Potential
Reputation Level Equivalent: 176/350
Purchase Points: 30
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 4/5
Mizuno Leon
Pool-4 - Mizuno Leon - is a man who has been forced to swallow indignity after indignity. Why was he here, in the Mountains of Wald? He was angry, so angry. But those who loved him refused to let him throw his life away in fighting against the oppressive, total enemy that was Britannia. And so, with no other outlet he convinced himself that he'd rather spend his life for another set of victims to take the place of his fellow Japanese - the Alliance of Wald, facing an existential threat. With this burning wish in his heart, he got into a Glasgow, and in the absence of any other volunteers his determination to make the biggest impact possible lead to him impatiently volunteering for the forlorn hope - Operation Carom. The very first volunteer, in fact.
Miraculously, a beaten down Glasgow was guided by Leon's refined mindset and capacity to remain calm under pressure to survive the first few hours of the battle against the Legion, up until a keeling wail pierced through the air, the death cry of a tortured soul - summoning a vast BETA Carrier-class, and flooding the battlefield with a large number of BETA strains. The previously difficult pace of the fighting turned unreal, and he was forced to employ the infamous mobility of the Knightmare Frame to its greatest possible degree, desperately moving from cover to cover, as artillery shells shrieked overhead even into the night (+1 Damage). Eventually, however, the fighting lessened. Abated. His Slash Harkens took him to the top of a collapsed Fort-class, to see that impossibly the battle had been won, and this image - once photographed - of a battle worn Glasgow raising its fist in the first line of dawn came to define the Mountains of Wald (+190 Reputation). In thanks for his efforts, Leon also received a payment from the grateful Alliance (+2 Purchase Points, +1 Exotic Legs - BETA)
Parts: Exotic Legs Armor (BETA)
Reputation: Potential
Reputation Level Equivalent: 210/350
Purchase Points: 2
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 4/5
Ras
Ras was a boy who had seen, in many ways, the worst the world had to offer. Abandoned and ignored by the modern first world status of Japan in its heyday before the invasion. He was an orphan forced to live on the streets without a name, desperate for connection. And in so doing had no choice but to take and build those things for himself. Purely off of an instinct, a drive, that what he was seeing was wrong, and how it was wrong, and with little recourse than to try and fix it. In so doing, he saved the lives of many as Tokyo fell to Britannia. In so doing he gave many newly dispossessed something to rally around in the seven years of occupation. Creating a stable life, uniting a gang into a family, free of the corruption and compromise of the newly made Area 11.
And it was that same affliction that caused him to pursue strength, a blazing passion that existed within the mechanical void that was his heart. A purpose even beyond the optimization forced upon him by his vision. Purpose that drove him for nearly a decade…The acquisition of the strength of a Knightmare Frame, condensed into the human form. With that complete, he felt the need for a new passion, and so sought a recreation of the same circ*mstance that lead to his first bout of inspiration - Britannia wasn't conquering anything like Japan at the moment - everyone hated Sargon - so he went for the next best thing: The Alliance of Wald. Where he found people suffering, but there was a pervasive sense of wrongness. That the very world was twisted against them, and to Ras' frustration he could not find the source from which this wrongness stemmed.
Yet he fought, the search driving him, the mystery of it. Being drawn further and further West, one young man fighting amongst giants. Until the opportunity to be sent towards the source of that wrongness presented itself: Operation Carom, ending the attack on the Alliance by dispatching the mobile factory that the Legion had set up in the mountains. Taking the callsign Pool-9, or Nineball, Ras appreciated the color based mirror of it once he learned what a Nine-ball looked like. Yellow, the same as the source of his name. Assigned to the Weisel infiltration mission, he rode in the backseat of Pool-1's car as they fell through the air after being launched at the start of the operation. He watched as Pool-7 and his Horsefly departed and began his own mission. He stayed back as P-5 shed his human guise, and charged out with a roar befitting a King of Beasts. He laid witness as P-12 met his fate upon the roof of the mobile factory. He held still as P-1 made a fateful gamble against a black serpent.
And then he understood, laying his eyes upon it for the first time in truth. His heart filled with passion anew, the emptiness inside him blazing with a mysterious Light.
"Go," He told Kamikoshi Shun, saving a departed victim before his corpse could be desecrated by the monster before him, "This is…wrong."
The Hayabusa peeled out. Ras would deal with this alone, now that the objective was fulfilled. The Kernal had to be disabled or destroyed outright - that was the true mission of Pool-1, the lynchpin of the entire operation. As the mountains shook, and a great tower of flesh and sinew arose…A smaller one stretched back up, mechanical limbs experimentally twitching as the midnight black Tausendfluber slithered up towards Nineball, expressionless hull nonetheless twitching with human emotion, nanomaterial swarming out to create the facsimile of a mouth.
"Interesting, I suppose." A cultured voice spoke, calm and considering with a touch of an aristocratic Ursus accent, "No Arts, but I suppose given your malnourished state you must have created that suit of yours from scratch." The great worm encircled Ras, the size disparity forming a tight cage, "There truly are all kinds of geniuses in this world. I'll need to be careful with you, won't I?" The false face twisted into a small smile.
Beneath his mask Ras expression twisted into a frown, his eyes throbbing from the pain of what he was looking upon. The need to make it right.
"Tell me…" Ras said through grit teeth, "Are you the source of the wrongness in this world?!"
"Poor boy," The voice said condescendingly, carrying the digitized hiss of synthesization, "This world is so very big, and I have seen it for such a long time. There is no source of wrongness. That is simply the human condition." The facsimile's smile grows a touch wider, "But I suppose you can say that this little play is my doing."
"Who are you?!" The young man called out, and the great leviathan chuckled cruelly.
"In life, I was known as many things. Many people. But here and now, you may call me by my designation as one among Legion - I am the Deathless Black Snake."
The air seemed to still as the words were spoken, an indescribable pressure mounted upon Ras's heart and mind. But he could not yield, this strange Light burning within him refusing to yield to the despair that pressed upon him.
With a slight chuckle, the Deathless Black Snake reared up, a great maw with tendrils of nanomaterial opening, "Ah, but worry not, my next Self. Once you are properly processed, you can become Deathless Black Snake too."
Don't yield, Ras! the light within him commanded, and the young man stood firm as death came.
Only for the bulk of the Black Snake to rebound off a barrier formed of Light.
Trust your instincts, and channel the power of the Hyper World! The boy nodded, raising his left arm forward - shining light appearing on his wrist, an armband, an outlet for the heated energy swirling within him.
A digitized screeching filled the air as the Black Snake reared back, the Light having somehow shaken his kernel despite it being nowhere near the point of impact. From within the mask, Ras' eyes suddenly swung, pinpointing a spot nestled within the larger body of the black machine now surrounding him.
Now, raise your arm and face the Acceptor towards the source of this distortion!
Air trembled as Ras' arms spread, circled around his torso as prismatic energy was drawn in to the burning light in his heart. His left arm bent, presenting his forearm to his target, and power spread into that same wrist, two words appearing unbidden in his mind.
"GRID BEAM!"
A torrent of Light burst forth, pouring over the blackened carapace of the Deathless Black Snake's Tausendfluber carapace, burning away the ablative metal between P-9 and the Kernel holding the digitized mind of the man once known as Duke Kaschey. But as quickly as the Light threatened to burn away his evil, the Tausendfluber flexed, putting more and more of its body between its core and the channeled power of the Hyper Agent, rendering the Legion machinery into so much slag.
It was beautiful. Purpose, beautiful purpose, filled Ras with a sense of absolute conviction. The ambition to let this light fill him, to fix what was wrong with the world, all those things were possible with the Lig-
It cuts out, and Ras drops to his knees as the beam tapers off, leaving the boy drained. (+1 Damage)
But Deathless Black Snake does not notice this - does not see it. He has already detached the damaged parts as ablative between himself and the strange energies turned against his metal shell. Already fleeing from the Mountains of Wald to Legion held territory, to lick his wounds and repair his levianthian body, in preparation for No Face's next stratagem.
With reports of the anomalous energies the boy had wielded against him, his mechanical genius, and his eyes with which he could see the wrongness in the world. (+390 Reputation)
Left forgotten as dusk turned into night, the Legion still in the area lacked the capital and energy to investigate the wreckage on the roof of the Weisel, leaving Ras to sleep through the night, when the battle ended. He was later recovered by the forces of the Alliance of Wald that had come through, who were more than happy to award him with the still intact materials and parts that he said he could use to upgrade his suit further, along with a healthy heaping of hazard pay for this role in the operation. (+6 Purchase Points, +1 Exotic Arms - Legion, +1 Exotic Power - Legion, + Exotic Special - Legion)
What was that mysterious voice, that mysterious Light? He had no idea. But that didn't change what he had experienced that day, and if he wanted that clarity of purpose once more, he would need to find the strength to rescue more people. To be found worthy of being filled with that Light once again.
Parts: Exotic Arms (Legion), Exotic Power (Legion), Exotic Special (Legion)
Reputation: Potential
Reputation Level Equivalent: 397/350
Purchase Points: 6
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 4/5
Ray Taikou/Taikou Ray
Ray Taikou and his partner Mekanorimon - Pool-3 - were assigned to actively skirmish and break down the masses of lesser Legion drones, using the Digimon's block and stout structure in conjunction with its eclectic abilities to overpower and crush many Black Sheep, its own nature as a Digimon giving it a type of hardiness unusual for something of its scale. Ray was blessedly ignorant to the nature of the enemy he was fighting, and thus he and his partner fought with all the fervor of a youthful hero against mindless monsters preying upon the innocent. Racking up ruined machine after ruined machine as the fighting drew towards dusk, when the results of the P-1's strike team made themselves known, and the fighting elsewhere took on a new, grimmer tone.
The sky was split by the massive form of a BETA Carrier-class, disgorging an immense number of reinforcements…And with none around capable of truly contesting the hardier strains. Even so, Mekanorimon swiftly employed its thrusters to close the distance, hoping against hope that Laser classes had yet to emerge…Only for something arguably far worse to arrive: A Quartet of the massive, hulking silhouettes of Fort-class BETA to stride forward, knife-like limbs puncturing the rocky ground as the strode out into the fading sunlight.
Ray was introduced to true difficulty, the BETA showing a monstrous coordination with their grotesque forms, Mekanorimon in particular being hemmed in as a Fort-class managed to line up its immense stinger to pierce the cyborg Digimons side (+2 Damage), even if the moments reprieve had given the Champion Digimon the opportunity to overclock its Sparkle Laser, dealing disproportionate damage in coring the immense beast in retaliation (+1 Damage).
In that moment, he recalled the mission reports of a previous defender, who'd faced a smaller variation of this same class of BETA - they possessed a kind of exotic-powered organ at their very heart, and communicating his intent on all frequencies Ray held out hope for even a single reinforcement - only Mekanorimon's advanced sensors were likely to locate the Organ in time to make the crucial difference.
A plume of exhaust thrust roared from behind - a Leo had landed behind him, beam saber already ignited. With fear in his heart held at bay by another feeling entirely Ray and Mekanorimon charged into the colossal worm, something changing as he progressed inwards. Some kind of alien instinct causing the BETA to stampede out from within the Carrier-class at increasing speeds, all utterly ignoring the soaring Mekanorimon within the cavernous organism.
The pair reached the organ safely, Mekanorimon raising its arms and using Gyro Break after Gyro Break into the fleshy wall, so stupendously durable that it resisted the Champions attacks. Far denser than even the flesh of the Fort-class, after what felt like an eternity of desperate striking, alien blood spilled and the fleshy beast began thrashing desperately. Still, Mekanorimon took flight, mechanical claws puncturing through the ruptured flesh as Warning Lasers raked across the vulnerable innards until finally, desperately, the pulsing core of the Carrier-class was torn out, and the flesh of the gargantuan worm grew still.
By the time Mekanorimon flew out of the Carrier-class, twilight had come in full, and the plumes of Mekanorimon's thrusters carried it North, to their intended rendezvous point for exfiltrating. Where a purple haired woman awaited, smirking at the prize in the Mekanorimon's hands. It turned out that standing bounty on Carrier-Class BETA had been issued, and so the scientist took the initiative to pay Ray directly. (+16 Purchase Points, +40 Reputation) Though she had also obtained designs for a particular kind of armor intended for the Legion, through means she didn't reveal, and it was one she offered to figure out how to install on Mekanorimon as well, his cyborg nature piquing her interest if only for a short while. (+1 Exotic Armor - Legion)
Parts: Exotic Armor (Legion)
Reputation: Potential
Reputation Level Equivalent: 50/350
Purchase Points: 16
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 2/5
Saito Kinokawa
Pool-6, the Greenball, was the third of the greatest combat talents to emerge on those mountains of Wald. Having been a relatively normal officer and Mobile Suit pilot, his past training through the Sargonian Academy in Carbombiya had left him an…unattractive prospect for many of the more high profile recruiters for the greater powers of the world, leading to his employment as a Mercenary, where he was sent to relatively normal battlefield after uninteresting assignment to boring escort duty, leaving him little ability to differentiate himself from the faceless masses of mercenaries that plied their trade in the modern age.
But in the Mountains of Wald, where a hell of chrome and flesh crawled, a stage suited for his true potential finally emerged. Saito Kinokawa was as unexpected as anyone to have volunteered for Operation Carom, but as one of the few with a proper Leo to contribute to the cause, Wald's planners would have been fools to not include him.
With an eye towards efficiency, he was tasked to serve as the central pillar for the efforts to clear out the minor Legion drone types, while hopefully being an initial distraction for the Morphos that would allow their intended killers space to approach, while their accompanying ECM baffling covered them. Thus, Saito was left to handle yet another boring battlefield - his Leo too large to infiltrate the Weisel, too under armed to assassinate the Morphos, too slow to handle any Laser-class elements in the AOO. He didn't even bother using his machine gun for this, relying purely on his trained Mobile Suit Martial Arts and Beam Saber to carve through the diminutive Black Sheep - unable to harm him through the thickness of the Leo's ever reliable armor.
And so this boring battlefield continued until dusk, with the death cry of the Weisel.
And Greenballs heart skipped.
The earth shook, and a great fleshy worm comparable in scale to the Weisel itself arose from the hard packed flesh of the planet. Saito's lips stretched into an unexpected grin, as the heaving mass of the Carrier-class slammed down upon the battlefield, causing his Leo to be pushed back from the impact.
A great maw stretched wide, and as if vomiting dozens, hundreds, thousands of grotesque, fleshy monsters began to flood the battlefield.
His body trembled.
Did you know? Not all Leo's are the same. A machine that reflects the talent of the one behind its controls, where the weak and timid perish, and the truly excellent are invincible. As the sun descended, and night fell upon the Mountains of Wald. As artillery filled the air, dueling with distantly cast photons, as flesh and blood and steel fell upon on the battlefield…The sensation of death entered the heart of Saito Kinokawa for the very first time.
And a transformation occurred.
The Carrier-class had vomited out for its first wave a great phalanx of the armored Destroyer class, their diamond-hard shells fit to break down anything in their path. Intended to sweep forth their temporary allies and enemies both, writing off the Legion entirely. Feared across the Human Reform League, a Destroyer Charge was one of the most devastating tactics the BETA possessed, and the reason to never allow them free rein on a flat surface. Which the plateau that the fighting was presently occurring on absolutely was.
Lined up at the second tallest marker immediately nearby - Pool-6, in his OZ-MS06 Leo.
A charge that was met head on, the machine suddenly far more ambulatory than before, and leaping over the initial line of Destroyers, mysteriously unpunished by Laser-class for the stunt, as Saito pulled out his machine's gun, and began to spray bullet after bullet into the backs of the passing Destroyers, their rears horribly vulnerable to that angle of attack in the absence of Laser interdiction. The charge broken, and ammunition expended, Saito withdrew his beam saber and began cutting through the far more vulnerable BETA horde, eventually making it to the great mouth of the Carrier-class, where growing numbers of gargantuan Fort-class BETA were ambling, preparing to stride to the other machines still on the battlefield and eliminate them.
He couldn't leave his fights to others.
Saito charged, even as one of the smaller units launched itself into the carrier, leaving the battle to him alone. With a grin, he accepted the coming tide of flesh seeking to drown him, to break him, to kill him.
And so, he killed them instead.
Hundreds of BETA corpses grew to thousands as the light of the sun vanished entirely, and with it the ability of the Chromed Legion to resist, leaving only the flesh and blood of the xenos to contest the lone Leo, reducing towering Fort-class as one would cut down a tree, twisting its own limbs and severed claws into impromptu weapons and bludgeons, giving reach to slay dozens of lesser strains of BETA where the beam saber otherwise would have been simply inefficient. Minovsky particles could do much, but only for so far.
Acid splattered the armor of the Leo. Scores of harder-than-diamond Grappler claws marked the machine. One Laser had even deigned to draw a bead on the Mobile Suit, carving a great divot in its side before it could finish moving, putting the still-living Carrier-class between the Laser and itself. (+4 Damage) Yet Saito continued on fighting, as the moon traveled through the sky, and the Carrier-class began spasming in its own death throes, the remaining BETA growing more urgent in their attempts to kill him…But at some point, near the coming of dawn…The great worm simply became empty. No more BETA within its bowels to hurl at him. And with that, the artillery began to grow ever more loud as the Legion roused themselves.
Allied Juggernauts began to approach.
Saito wouldn't surrender his battlefield. Not to anyone.
As dawn broke, and the units of Brisingamen Squadron broke through the BETA cordon to approach the corpse of the Weisel, they found two great mountains borne of dead flesh. The cold form of a Carrier-class, its heart carved out and stolen in the night. And a throne made of that Carrier's own cargo, upon which sat a single mobile suit. The venerable form of an OZ-MS06 Leo, having raised another monster of the battlefield, its shoulders draped in trophy limbs of its adversaries. (+420 Reputation, +2 Exotic Arms - BETA)
Clutched in its hand was a single piece of machinery, picked up at some point after the conclusion of the fighting. A coffin-like box, taken from the corpse of the Weisel, within which was an unknown form, bearing a human shape (+1 Exotic Special - Legion).
Parts: Exotic Special (Legion), Exotic Arms (BETA), Exotic Arms (BETA)
Reputation: Potential
Reputation Level Equivalent: 422/350
Purchase Points: 0
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 1/5
Sam Barchen
Sam Barchen was an unusual sort to be caught up in the fighting in Wald - a former resident of the Hellscape of Luna, he had joined up with a mercenary band in a highly outdated machine - resembling the very earliest TSFs, in fact…But strangely he had never heard of a BETA in his entire life before the fighting in Wald had begun. His mercenary company had dispatched themselves to the Alliance of Wald in the hopes of raising their profile to get more and better contracts going forward, but inexplicably as the fighting dragged on the defenders swiftly realized that things were so much worse than had been originally suspected.
But as the time came for searching up volunteers for a final, desperate attack Sam found himself volunteering, in turn being assigned the callsign Pool-2, his role in the operation was simply…to be another warm body, buying time and space for the true objectives to accomplish themselves - the dismantling of the greater Legion warmachines, which he did endlessly with a kind of determination brought from the natural impulse to do good for the innocent and harm unto the wicked. Inexplicably never able to be cornered from the power he had come to know as Slipstream, the Legion drones in their endless multitudes never seemed to pose a threat to him as the fighting dragged on for hours, until the Weisel let out its death cry, summoning the BETA reinforcements.
At which point things became decidedly bloodier, massive hulking bodies of BETA charging, and quite against Sam's will his Slipstream ability began going haywire - the air around him growing increasingly heated by the passage of invisible photons. Barely evading masses of Laser-class BETA seeking to destroy the statuesque form of his Titan, the tallest thing on the battlefield not dyed the chrome of the Legion or the fleshy tones of the BETA themselves. For hours this continued, Sam desperately dragged along by his machines ability, unable to fight back - not given a chance to, until he finally grew frustrated at his perceived helplessness, and struck out.
Appearing on the other side of the battlefield, his machine's hands covered in gore resembling dozens of popped ocular organs, his machine immensely damaged from the strain of the final shift (+3 Damage). Shell shocked and exhausted, he proceeded North to the exfiltration point: a Human Reform League Landship that even now was hurling artillery into the battlespace, slaughtering the BETA. Confident that his job was done, he entered the Landship, and filed a report on his experience, just one of the survivors of that battlefield. (+ 60 Reputation)
Resulting in him almost being abducted by a purple haired woman with an excited gleam in her eye, and an offer: Employment by a top secret extra-national project aimed towards saving humanity, in exchange for becoming a test subject. And to show her sincerity, she had a down payment ready: A full refitting of Sam's Machine, including an a strange power source the woman was fully certain would interact interestingly with its capabilities. (+12 Purchase Points, +1 Exotic Power - BETA).
Parts: Exotic Power (BETA)
Reputation: Potential
Reputation Level Equivalent: 66/350
Purchase Points: 12
Repair Points: 0
Health Status: 2/5
