Chapter Text
It came without warning for most. The Fires of Ibis, a tide of flame that swept through the stars. At its center was the planet ISB2262, more commonly known as Rubicon-3, and the substance known as Coral. When the Coral was first discovered on the surface of Rubicon, it led to an industrial and scientific golden age for the planet, and Coral based technology and services became the planet’s number one export. Advancements in data analysis, energy generation, and extensive genetic augmentations were just a few of the wonders that were produced by studying the Coral.
And yet, as with all things, this golden age would not last forever. No one knew why the Fires of Ibis were sparked, but the ones responsible were well known to the citizens of Rubicon. The Rubicon Research Institute, the leading force in Coral research, were the ones who lit the match that would burn the stars. Using autonomous, Coral powered machines known as the Ibis Series, The Rubicon Research Institute set fire to the Coral within Rubicon’s atmosphere. The resulting chain reaction sent a wave of flames throughout the surrounding star systems, decimating life and infrastructure in its wake.
When the ashes settled the organization known as the Planetary Closure Administration, or PCA for short, descended upon Rubicon to establish a quarantine around the planet. Within a few years the PCA had completed the construction of the Closure System, a series of automated weapons platforms resting in geosynchronous orbit around Rubicon with the task of preventing unauthorized entry, or exit, from Rubicon-3. Meanwhile, the surface of Rubicon was not as barren as the PCA had originally thought. Despite the Fires Of Ibis and the destruction they caused to Rubiconian society, much of the planet’s population had survived. At first, while the Closure System was still being constructed, the PCA provided immigration services for the Rubiconians who wanted to leave their dying world. In the end, approximately 25% of the surviving Rubiconian population fled their homeworld with the PCA’s help.
Those that remained, however, did not take too kindly to the PCA’s presence on their world. In the years following the PCA’s arrival and completion of the Closure System, the disparate pockets of Rubiconian resistance against the PCA gathered under one banner. The Rubicon Liberation Front, or RLF. Led by a man named Dolmayan, the RLF began to fight back against the PCA’s Subject Guard force that enforced the quarantine of Rubicon-3. Despite being severely outgunned by the PCA, the Rubiconians continued to fight tooth and claw for their freedom, securing several footholds across the planet’s surface.
For 50 years after the Fires Of Ibis subsided, this was the status quo for the people of Rubicon-3. For 50 years, the RLF and PCA forces remained locked in a bitter conflict for the very soul of Rubicon-3. All that changed with the actions of a single Independent Mercenary. A single mercenary, going under the callsign of ‘Raven’ and piloting an Armored Core designated as ‘Nightfall’, uncovered evidence of the truth that the PCA was so desperately trying to keep hidden behind their Closure System. One single piece of information that would bring about a catastrophe on the surface of Rubicon-3.
The Coral still remained on Rubicon.
—
The world was dark for her. Dark, and cold. Had been for a very, very, long time. Sometimes, she dreamed. She'd dream of the ocean, or the feeling of wind on her skin. Sometimes she would dream of faces, who's names she couldn't remember anymore. Most of the time though, she would dream of Rubicon. Of the brisk morning air rustling her hair on the coast of the Belius Region. Of the prosperity her family had enjoyed thanks to the boon of Coral.
She would dream of home.
Then one day... the dreams stopped. With the end of her dreams, she began to feel again. She felt the scars that crisscrossed her body, and the ache that came with them. She felt the sensation of wires and needles plunged beneath her skin, and how it made her want to scream. She felt the chill of cryostasis fading away, slowly but surely.
That's when she heard the voices. One, nasally and contemptuous. The other one... it sent a shiver of panic down her spine. The deep cadence of the second voice, and the harsh manner in which it spoke... That voice reminded her too much of the Doctor that made her what she is now...
"This one is... functional, but don't expect much more."
"I'm not here to talk. Wake it up."
The world around her exploded with new sensations. The wires and needles were slowly, and painfully, extracted from her body. In their place, a low whirring sound had begun to permeate throughout the room she was in. Soon enough, she knew that she would have to open her eyes. She would have to face the sight of her mutilated body, of her missing limbs that were taken by the surgeries so long ago... but instead of seeing through her own eyes, when she opened her eyelids her vision was filled with nothing but static.
'Augmented Human C4-621, Vital Signs Confirmed, Activating Standard Mode.'
The static faded away slowly, and soon she was met with the sight of something she never thought she would see again. She was staring at her own body, laying on an examination table with a semi-transparent sheet covering her. Normally, she knew that most people would be frightened by the sight of their mutilated body laying motionless before them.
She was not most people, and she knew exactly how she was able to see her own body, as well as the two men standing over her. The specs of the vessel she was piloting were abysmal, with it likely being only a torso and head to facilitate communication. After all, there was no need for a fully kitted out Armored Core in a cryogenics facility.
"621... I'll give you something to live for. Let's get to work."
—
Walter waited for 621 to respond, his foot tapping the ground repeatedly in anticipation. Despite what his associates often believed, Walter did offer a choice to the Gen 4’s he woke up from cryo. He offered them the choice of working for him, or being left to their own devices. He wasn’t in the business of enslaving people, and the Gen 4’s had been through enough hardships as it was. If Walter couldn’t get 621 to go along with his plan, then he would let them walk away. Well... metaphorically walk away, at least.
C4-621 was in, by far, the worst state he had ever seen any of the Gen 4’s in. They were missing their legs from the knee down, and their arms didn’t fare much better. The augmentation surgeries hadn’t been kind to 621, that was clear. Just another nightmare from Rubicon that he was forced to clean up. As the piercing red eye of the AC remained fixed on him, Walter could only hope that 621 wasn’t completely fried by the augmentations. It would certainly be difficult to get a merc with a fried brain onto Rubicon, but not entirely impossible.
“Who are you?”
The voice that came from the AC’s loudspeakers was perhaps the biggest shock to Walter. The voice was feminine, but held a gravely tinge to it that made it sound almost like 621 had had their throat ripped open at one point. Hell, given that the full extent of Gen 4 augmentation surgery was still unknown, that could’ve likely happened to 621. Regardless, 621 was speaking. And that was enough of an assurance for Walter to make his pitch.
“You can call me Walter. I’m a Handler. I take hounds like you, mostly other Gen 4’s, and put them to work as mercenaries. The pay is good, if you’re getting jobs from the Corporations. Of course, I’m not going to just tell you to work for me. You have a choice here 621, work for me and you can earn enough credits to undo what those doctors did to you. Or, you can walk away right now, and we never see each other again. Either way, you’ll be out of cryo, and free to do what you please.”
The head of the AC lowered ever so slightly as Walter finished speaking, turning its gaze to 621’s body laying on the table. Walter would never be able to understand how someone could look at their own body like that, all mutilated and plugged full of cables and tubes. Walter could see the doctor that kept track of the Gen 4’s in this facility shift in his chair anxiously, and he could understand why. 621’s file was... concerning to say the least. Concerning in the fact that the majority of it was redacted by order of the Planetary Closure Administration. For the life of him, Walter couldn’t even begin to fathom why or how the PCA had gotten their hands on 621’s file, nor did he want to imagine what 621 had done to earn that level of erasure.
“The job. You need an AC pilot for it, don’t you? That’s why you woke me up and immediately hooked me up to this pile of scrap.”
Walter nodded in response to 621’s question. He wasn’t going to lie to 621, not yet. He did need an AC pilot, and Gen 4’s had the best track records out of the earlier generations of augmented humans. And unlike most of the modern Gens of augmented humans, the vast majority of Gen 4’s were known for being some of the most loyal of soldiers... and the most bloodthirsty.
“Well, Handler Walter... I’ll take your job. On one condition.”
Walter’s eye twitched slightly at the idea of a stipulation to 621’s cooperation. Most of the other Gen 4’s that he had brought out of cryo were just grateful to be awake again, and none of them had given him conditions to their employment. It was already looking like 621 was going to be a headache for him, good. A Hound that doesn’t think for itself is only useful to a certain extent, and Walter needs a scalpel for this job, not a sledgehammer. Though it remained to be seen if 621 had the potential to be both.
“Alright 621, what’s your condition?”
The light from the AC’s eye dimmed out, and an alarm began to blare through the warehouse. Walter snapped his head to look at 621’s vital signs, all of which were beginning to spike in accordance to a sudden uptick in adrenaline. The doctor rushed to the various pieces of medical equipment, muttering to himself about Gen 4’s and their faulty hardware all the while. Walter, however, kept his eyes trained on 621 as they remained motionless on the table aside from the faint rise and fall of their chest. They were still breathing, so what had caused the alarms?
‘Augmented Human, C4-621, Manual Disconnect Detected. Exiting Standard Mode, Entering Reserve Power Mode.’
Walter’s eyes widened as the automated voice of the AC’s control module announced the manual disconnection of 621. The doctor had simultaneously frozen in place as all the alarms that had been blaring cut out in an instant. Then came the movement. From their place on the table 621 sat up, the plastic sheet that had been covering their body falling away as they... no, as she rose from her position. Shoulder length white hair dangled in front of her face, framing her gaunt and pale complexion in a stark relief as her eyes landed on Walter. The way those ruby colored orbs looked at him, it would have undoubtedly made a lesser man tremble in fear. Surgical scars littered 621’s body, making her look like more of a patchwork creation than an actual human.
“If you want me to work for you, to be an AC pilot again after so long... I want my arms and legs back first. If you can afford to wake someone like me up from cryo, then surely prosthetics aren’t that outlandish, right? I can certainly get the job done without them, but I’d consider it an... investment, into our partnership. Wouldn’t you agree, Handler Walter?”
As 621 spoke, she lifted up her left arm to emphasize her point. Both her arms had been severed from the elbow down, with her legs having been given the same treatment from the knee down. The scar tissue around those points was gruesome to look at, even for Walter. Aside from the mottled scarring, her limbs were covered in Lichtenberg Figures that traced all the way up her shoulders and to her hips. A large burn scar covered most of 621’s chest, and that was the only scar that Walter knew the story for. The only part of 621’s file that hadn’t been covered in black ink. According to the PCA’s record on Augmented Human C4-621, they were considered KIA in accordance with the System’s verdict, with their sentence having been carried out by PCA SP ; AAS03: EKDROMOI units.
621 was dangerous, and Walter knew this. He knew that the PCA didn’t send EKDROMOI squads after just anyone, and those that did have the EKDROMOI on their tail never managed to run for long. So for 621 to have managed to fool the PCA, whether she did so knowingly or not remained to be seen, into thinking that she was dead? Well, Walter could use someone of that caliber on Rubicon. What was a set of prosthetics compared to that level of renown? Absolutely nothing.
“You have yourself a deal, 621. I have contacts in Balam who might be able to help with your situation. For now, I’ve had about enough of this place, wouldn’t you agree?”
With a wicked grin, one that showed just a bit too much teeth, 621 nodded in agreement, gesturing her left arm towards the wheelchair that sat folded up in the corner of the room.
“Hope you don’t mind having to wheel me around everywhere until I can walk, Walter.”