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genshingorlsrevengeance · 2 months

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OC Story: 916

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Prologue - "Sing a Song"

Genre: Scifi (Mecha) Content Warning: General descriptions of violence, long text jumpscare after you press Keep Reading lmao Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: TIME TO WRITE BOOTLEG GUNDAM LETS GOOOOOOO, more in depth author's note at the end. Thanks for taking the time to read this, if you do! Feedback is appreciated!

========

“Doctor Moreau, do you think we go to heaven?” asked the small girl.

Doctor Moreau stopped typing for a moment as her eyes glanced over the terminal, seeing the child laying on the operating table, standing out from the rest of the clean black walls and white tiles. The room was supported with soft lights illuminating the room, complemented by the blue screens and dizzying amount of automated surgical equipment quietly whirring into position.

Moreau pushed her aging white hair away from her eyes, looking at the child, subject designated 403. 403 was about seven, she barely stood up to Moreau’s stomach and had long black hair that stopped at her shoulders. The light blue gown was slightly too big for her, the sleeves extending over most of her hands and just revealing her fingers. Seeing her face again reminded Doctor Moreau of 403's rather inquisitive nature.

“Why are you asking that, 403?” Moreau replied, her tone indifferent. Her fingers went back to typing as she sighed. “If you’re worried about the procedure, the chips are perfectly safe to implant. There has been no previous record of anyone dying from-”

“-But I’m going to die after.”

“...What?”

“After the chip goes into me. Will the others and I go to heaven?”

The question had caught the doctor completely off guard. Moreau had answered questions such as, “Will this hurt?”, or “Do I have to?”. This question was something she could not answer with her usual dismissive tone. She sat up straight in her seat now and turned to look at the child. 403's eyes were still fixated on the ceiling.

“Why are you so certain you’re going to die, 403?”

“That’s what my brother told me. When the chip goes into our brain, we’re sent off to die.”

The girl’s voice stated it as a matter of fact. There was no confusion in her tone of what was to become of her. Doctor Moreau had no response as she stared at 403 with her mouth slightly open. The child simply turned her head, facing her and expectantly waiting for an answer.

“... I certainly hope there’s a heaven, 403. I’m sure heaven will allow good kids like you and your brother.”

“What about my friends? Will they-”

“We’re about to begin the surgery. Please face up towards the light and close your eyes.” Moreau bluntly cut off the conversation.

403 pouted, but complied. It was clear that the answer did not satisfy her as much as she wanted it to. Doctor Moreau took a second to recover and focus back on the job at hand. Facing back towards the terminal, she began typing once more. With the input of several passwords and confirmations, the surgery to implant the combat data-chip into 403’s brain would commence. Afterwards, she would be sent to her brother’s unit, and be deployed to the battlefield.

Just like all the others.

This room had always been nothing out of the ordinary to Moreau. The same procedure had been repeated more times than she could count and yet why did this one make it so hard to breathe all of a sudden?

“Doctor Moreau?”

“Yes, 403?”

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“You may.”

“Can I listen to that song you always play? The one that goes ‘Lalalalala~’? I want to hear it one more time before I sleep. I really like it.”

Doctor Moreau’s lips suddenly dried up as she once again stopped typing. With a slightly trembling hand, she turned to the radio sitting on her desk and nodded.

“...Of course, 403. No more questions, please.”

She could see the smile form on 403’s lips as the mask was gently put onto her face, the anesthesia slowly starting to pump into 403’s lungs.

“...Thank you.”

Doctor Moreau swallowed hard as her finger pressed the on switch of her old radio. Despite being in such a high tech surgical room, her radio was comically outdated. It was a small gray oval-like object that only had a speaker and a few buttons. To even put music in it, she had to insert a smaller rectangle that contained the songs in it via tape. It was a gift from her father when she was 403’s age, the thought of their roles being reversed not lost on the doctor.

‘Sing, sing a songLet the world sing alongSing of love there could beSing for you and for me…~’

Doctor Moreau could hear 403 softly hum along to the song as her voice gradually became quieter, and eventually turning into soft breathing. The whirring of the surgical equipment and the radio being the only things in the room left making noise. The only remaining step was for Doctor Moreau to approve the procedure to implant the chip into 403’s brain.

“Is there heaven…” the doctor quietly repeated the question to herself, attempting to ignore 403’s startling self awareness of the situation.

"Authorization confirmed, Implant procedure beginning.” A deep robotic voice rang out across the room as the sound of a drill began drowning out the other equipment. Doctor Moreau sat on her chair as she closed her eyes, waiting for the procedure to be done and turning off the radio in the process.

“For me, I don’t think so…Heaven was lost to me long ago.”

...

‘Sing, sing a song Make it simple to last Your whole life long~’

The Doctor was snapped out of her melancholy as the music continued playing. Sighing, she moved to turn it off for good.

“Piece of junk is starting to-” She stopped as her finger was about to hit the switch.

The radio was still off.

Listening closely again, Moreau realized the singing was coming outside of the door.

‘Don't worry that it's notGood enough for anyoneElse to hear~’

Creeping towards the door, the doctor put her ears to it and heard what sounded like a chorus singing. The song wasn’t over the intercom, otherwise the voice would be far clearer.

Instead it sounded like-

A sudden sense of dread hit the doctor as she swung the doors open and ran towards the hangar. Multiple guards and scientists were opening the doors along the long gray hallway, joining Moreau and investigating what the noise was. When they finally got to the railing after the doors slid open, none of them could speak.

‘Just sing, sing a song(Just sing, sing a song)Just sing, sing a song~’

Inside the massive hangar stood rows of countless Soldats, giant bipedal machines that stood several meters tall, lined up next to each other as if they were statues. Their bulky legs stood firmly in place and the compact yet slender arms did not move an inch.

The only things moving were their horned box-like heads, slowly moving side to side in perfect sync. Each of the voices emerging from the Soldats were different but singing in perfect harmony.

Their normally offline and horizontal segregated visors were suddenly flickering to life with blue lights, illuminating the large dark room with bright blue rays.

‘La la la la la, la la la laLa la la la la la laaaaa~’

Doctor Moreau could hear the voices of security guards rushing down the stairs to halt the singing, shouting orders at the others to back away.

However, the doctor could only hear their cheerful singing along with her breathing becoming noticeably shorter with each second, feeling her chest tighten.

Once again, the question 403 springed up to the forefront of her mind.

“Is there heaven?”

====

ONE YEAR LATER…

====

“Welcome to the Dyson Incorporated headquarters!” A cheery female robotic voice echoed across the entry hall.

A man and woman in navy blue uniforms stepped into the building, being greeted by a similarly sharp dressed man in a white business suit. His stomach bulged over his pants and the man himself was at shoulder height, but looked relatively healthy. Excluding the large amounts of sweat coming down his forehead.

“Captain Alana, Lieutenant Justeen!” The large man cheerfully said, extending his arms. “I must say, you are here quite earlier than I expected!”

Captain Alana was a tall and dark skinned man, his hair mostly bald but containing some hair towards the back. His posture stood tall and proper. Lieutenant Justeen stood slightly lower than Alana. Her skin was noticeably paler than anyone else present in the room, her dark brown ponytail complementing her slim figure. Of all the details that stood out, it was her unfriendly eyes that came to the front of attention, seemingly glaring daggers at President Sumner.

Captain Alana stepped forward, extending his hand and offering a friendly smile. “President Sumner, we apologize about the sudden arrival. We had finished our duties faster than we expected as well, and simply could not wait to see how your projects were coming along.”

“The Florence government hopes that your new project has been producing results, President Sumner.” Lieutenant Justeen blankly stated.

“A-ah, of course ma’am! The company has been hard at work to make sure your investment is well rewarded!” The president replied, trying his best to not sound intimidated by the lieutenant. “If you could follow me this way, please! I will direct you two towards our presentation room!”

The captain raised an eyebrow at the lieutenant, but she only shook her head unapologetically. They followed the president out of the comfortable entrance hall and towards light blue hallways, passing by several office workers who looked startled by the presence of the two soldiers. The security guards they passed by remained in place and only offered a nod, however they seemed to grip tightly onto the rifles they held in place, fingers off the trigger.

“Admittedly, we don’t have everything prepared just yet, since we weren't expecting you for at least another hour. I must apologize greatly that I have to ask for you all to wait in this room while we get situated!” The president gestured towards an open door that had rows of chairs and a large screen on the furthest wall.

Inside were two security guards and a woman dressed in a blue suit at the opposite end. The captain bowed while the lieutenant continued to stare at the president.

“No apologies needed, President Sumner. In fact, we should be the ones apologizing for the intrusion.” Captain Alana glanced at the Lieutenant before she too finally showed some modicum of decorum.

“Please, excuse us, sir.” Lieutenant Justeen added, her tone remaining unchanged.

“I will be back in about half an hour, please do ask any questions to our lovely guide in the room. Now if you’ll excuse me,” President Sumner bowed towards Captain Alana before quickly darting away and towards the elevator.

The two of them stepped into the room and took a seat towards the back, having a view of the screen turning on and the guards who were remaining in place.

“If I may ask, what kind of presentation will we be watching?” Captain Alana turned towards the woman in the back, asking with a smile on his face.

“Ah, I’m glad you asked! The short film we’ll be watching is about how Dyson Incorporated is helping the Florence Government with our myriad of technological developments!”

The captain extended his smile to his lieutenant, but the vacant expression on her face told him that she wanted this over with. They turned to the screen while the room darkened and the screen came to life.

“With only the brightest minds that can match the sun, Dyson Incorporated paves the way toward the future with our revolutionary technology!”

It was the same robotic woman’s voice who greeted them at the entrance voicing over the presentation. Both of them had no doubt it was pre recorded and continued to say nothing.

“We here at Dyson have well over five thousand employees stationed across the globe, but it’s here at our Headquarters where the most talented engineers and scientists perform their work! We are currently the lead developers on electrical household appliances, vehicles for both recreational and military use, lightning fast connections to the internet, and our top of the line Soldat d'aciers are second to none!”

Pictures of giant bipedal machines stood side by side with soldiers, all smiling with the Soldat cutely giving a thumbs up. As the presentation went on, it continued displaying more and more pictures of the Soldat, Dyson Incorporated’s crown product. Both the captain and lieutenant couldn’t deny their effectiveness. The Florence Government had incorporated them well into the military, to the point where entire divisions were based around them. But they knew this already. And the woman behind them knew it too.

“You’re stalling.” Justeen dryly remarked, turning towards the woman.

“I-I beg your pardon?”

The guards tensed up before Alana raised his hand.

“My apologies, Lieutenant Justeen is rather impatient. What she means to say is that this information is already known to our military. Is there a part speaking about the Dyson Soldat pilots?”

“Ah, I see, that’s what you mean! Well, I do not blame you for wanting to know more about them. Our pilots are our most treasured and respected employees of the company!” The woman’s smile was barely held as Justeen continued to stare through her.

The woman typed something on the keyboard as the video began to skip ahead, getting to the section they were truly interested in.

“Hello, my name is Doctor Moreau, one of the lead scientists behind our Soldat program. While our machines are certainly impressive, they are only as effective thanks to the brave volunteers at Dyson! Our pilots are expertly trained by combat instructors to ensure minimum damages caused to their surroundings, while also keeping costs down on repairs on their Soldats!”

On the screen were many pilots standing next to their Soldats, all wearing helmets that obscured their faces while showing camaraderie, some arms over each other’s shoulders while others gave fist bumps. It was nothing too out of the ordinary, especially for military personnel.

“You know, these Soldat pilots have saved the lives of my men on numerous occasions, yet I’ve never actually spoken to any of them outside of their suit. Are any of these pilots currently at headquarters today? I would certainly like to meet some of the brave men and women who've been representing the best of Dyson.” Alana asked, his inflection not rising above a normal tone.

“Unfortunately, they’re all currently on duty elsewhere as far as I’m aware.” The woman tilted her head at the question. The expression in her eyes seemed like she was telling the truth despite her nervousness.

The guards on the other hand suddenly tensed up at the question, doubly so when Justeen glanced in their direction.

“Your company keeps their state of the art Soldat’s at this building, correct?” Justeen asked, standing up. Even though they were standing several feet away and behind an entire row of chairs and a counter, the woman still backed up, intimidated.

“Y-Yes, ma’am.”

“Then I presume you're still keeping the same Soldat’s who suddenly went ballistic and attacked our training base here?”

The presentation stopped, with the guards giving each other a quick glance while the Captain’s smile started to fade.

“O-Of course not! As soon as we received word about what happened, we had the Soldat’s dismantled and the pilots responsible punished! That whole ordeal was a terrible incid-”

Justeen slammed her fist on one of the chairs, knocking it over and prompting the guards to reach for their pistols.

“The slaughter we saw that day can't be passed off as just an incident! The screaming, the singing…! Not only are those trainees dead, but so are your precious goddamn products!”

“That’s enough, Justeen.” Alana raised his hand, looking at the guards who still had their guns drawn at the lieutenant. “She isn’t the one responsible for what happened…At least, not directly.”

The guards turned their attention onto Alana.

“Six months ago, we were told that we’d receive further information about what happened that day within due time. Am I to believe that a company as great as Dyson still hasn’t found the answer?”

“Sir,” One of the guards spoke up, pointing his pistol at Alana. “I think it’s time for you two to leave.”

Alana simply sighed and stood up, adjusting his collar.

“I suppose it is. Let’s start wrapping things up.”

One of the vents suddenly swung open as a figure in black dropped down and grabbed the left guard, disarming him and choking him out with an arm tightly wrapped around his neck. The other guard never had time to register what was happening before Justeen knocked the pistol out his hand, and slammed her fist into his face, knocking him out instantly.

The woman let out a yelp before quickly covering her mouth, her eyes growing wide as more figures dressed in black with vests and goggles leapt down from the open vent, carrying SMGs in their hands. The soldiers hand-signaled to each other as they began cuffing the guards.

“Like I said ma’am,” Alana continued as he put his hands behind his back. “We know you’re not directly to blame, but all that being said, we’re going to need you to answer as many questions as you can. What exactly is happening here?”

Justeen and a soldier approached the woman, but gently gestured for her to stand down and allow them to cuff her. Tears welled up in her eyes but she silently nodded as she was forced down, and had her hands behind her back.

“I-I only know that we’ve been getting rid of information and files before you all arrived! I was told by my manager we were supposed to hurry, and I swear to god that’s all I know!”

One of the soldiers approached the captain.

"Sir, security systems are offline. They're completely in the dark."

Alana calmly nodded and turned to Justeen.

“Take a squad and find our inside-man. I’ll find out anything else that I'm able to.”

“Yes, sir. Bravo, with me!”

Justeen grabbed both the security guards’ pistols, one for her, the other to a soldier. Clicking the safety off, her and a group of four departed the room silently. Alana stepped towards the woman and got on one knee as one soldier sat the woman upright.

“Do you know what information you’ve been disposing of, ma’am?”

====

Sweat ran off of Doctor Moreau’s head, but she did not bother wiping it off. She stood inside the surgery room, though this time there was no patient on the operating table. She hurriedly typed several confirmations onto the keyboard as a progress bar appeared on the screen. Another scientist quickly opened the door, scaring her but quickly readjusted herself.

“Moreau, are the files deleted yet? Florence Military reps have already arrived!”

“What?! Why are they- Er, yes I’m deleting them right now.”

“Good, we need to hurry and transfer the generation two EH’s offsite.”

“I’ll be right behind you. I must approve a few more deletions.”

The scientist nodded at her answer and departed. When the door closed again, the doctor sighed in relief. The progress bar showed ‘Data Transfer Complete’ before she unplugged a small flash drive. She opened a screen and confirmed who was on the list of transferring out of headquarters. There were twelve, and only twelve, generation two enhanced humans. Though she recognized every number, there was one that she specifically was looking for.

“916,” Moreau whispered to herself. He had the generation one chip implanted into him and was to undergo surgery procedures directly after 403, but he was put off the queue due to unforeseen complications with 403. Before she could recall the horror she witnessed that day, she put her mind back to the present. No one would remember any of the atrocities committed here if she failed to act now. Seeing the radio beside her reminded Moreau exactly why she was doing this. Taking the tape out of the radio, she put it in her pocket. Finally clenching the flash drive in her hand, she closed the screen and left the implant surgery room.

Moreau entered the hallway and found where the scientist had gone. Quickly and quietly following after them, she saw the sign of the door. ‘Enhanced Human Testing’. Her breathing shortened as she stepped forth and saw the row of twelve children standing completely still, staring blankly into space even as she walked in front of them. The scientist stood in front of a door, trying to swipe his card through a reader. He turned when he heard Moreau enter, but turned his attention back to the door.

“Ah, there you are. Help me with this door, it’s not accepting my credentials for some reason!”

The doctor checked outside and looked both ways down the hallway. Security personnel were too busy escorting out the higher ups and scientists, and no one would dare interfere with their work. Perfect.

“Here, let me try.” Moreau said as she grabbed a wrench.

The scientist turned around only to be met with a wrench to his head, dropping on the floor and twitching. Moreau turned around and saw the kids did not even budge an inch despite the apparent mutiny. It disgusted her all the more how detached they were, and that she was the cause of it.

“916, step forward.” She commanded, though she did not need to find out where he was. She could see him already, but it was more to give her some precious few seconds to brace herself for what was coming.

916 did as she commanded, stepping forward without so much as blinking. He was eight, with dark blue hair and even darker violet eyes, standing much shorter than the other children. Everyone in the room wasn’t wearing a shirt and so Moreau could see the wires that protrude from their spines and into their chests. Their number designations were written onto their necks so that in the event they were killed, they could easily be identified and brought back to examine their combat data.

“What’s the status of your behavioral inhibitor chip?” Moreau questioned as she ran over to the terminal behind them, plugging in the same flash drive into a port.

“No anomalies detected.” The child replied emotionlessly. He did not sound that different from the company’s robotic greeting voice. Hearing his voice made Moreau cringe, her fists balling up in frustration. Another reminder of what she’s done.

“Your memories are unaffected?”

“No ma’am.”

“Recite the incident report of EH-403 on August 12, 1164.”

“EH-403 after Implant surgery displayed signs of communicating with other generation one EH’s, despite it being only possible when conscious. This caused a neural degradation of the pilots mind and due to negligence from maintenance, were left unrepaired. This caused her and other generation one EH’s to go rampant on a Florence Government training facility, leading to the recall and termination of all twenty four generation one pilots and accelerated production of generation two. EH-916 was excluded due to his extensive data for the generation two pilots.”

Moreau was pained to remember what exactly happened, but was relieved that the files she hid away hadn’t been discovered. The accident was supposed to be scrapped and erased from history, but after what she saw in the hangar the day of her surgery, she couldn’t just forget it.

“That Captain better be good on his word…” She muttered to herself while searching for any other information that could condemn Dyson.

She brought up screens that displayed the status of every generation two Enhanced Humans, their inhibitor chips registering as operating within normal parameters. She moved to put in the command to disable them all before stealing another glance at 916. He remained completely still, not even turning his head to the moaning scientist on the floor. Neither did any of the children next to him.

“If you can still be given a normal life, then I can make up for at least just a little for what I’ve done to you all.” Clenching her fists as the progress bar on the screen began, Moreau wiped away a tear that threatened to fall down her right cheek. Of all the kids she had augmented, only twelve might be saved today. If only she could turn back the clock and save every single generation one child, she thought to herself.

Double checking the files she began to read the report of the termination of all EH’s of generation one. Corporate wanted them taken off site due to the true nature of generation one EH’s and away from the public eyes of the employees. However, during the transport to one of many remote bases, communication was suddenly cut off. When security arrived to investigate, the vehicles in charge of the transfer were completely obliterated, and robotic limbs were strewn everywhere, far more than they could count. Explosion marks and bullet casings littered the scene, though it appeared there was no attack from the outside. Even when they attempted to scan them, they couldn’t properly register whose remains belonged to the correct owner.

The higher ups attributed it to the machines destroying themselves conveniently, and ultimately were able to save far more money than paying engineers and scientists to break them down. And in a strange way, she was thankful they decided to do no further investigation. That meant 916 could find them. His communication chip that allowed him to contact his fellow EH’s could possibly find the-

…No. That wasn’t 916’s decision. He needed to be free, just like the rest of the kids with him.

Moreau turned to face him again, and still he did not move. Once the behavioral chips were disabled, it was up to them to do whatever they wanted. The progress bar on the screen flashed green, Moreau typing in a password and almost slammed the keyboard when it asked her to disable the chips. The other children in the room blinked several times before they looked around, confused. They turned to each other, then to 916 who remained unaffected, then finally to Moreau.

“...You’re free. All of you, you’re free. Find the Florence government soldiers, they’ll get you out of here safely, and avoid Dyson security!” Moreau sounded as if she were about to break down in tears, seeing the lights in their eyes slowly return as they got a better sense of their surroundings. The tiny patter of their feet was the only sound as they quickly left, one of them pulling on the arm of 916 who only turned his head blankly.

“He’ll join you shortly, go!” Moreau commanded. The child tilted their head in slight confusion before leaving him behind. Since 916 was intended to be a generation one Enhanced Human, his chip was far more primitive than the others. While theirs could be remotely triggered, 916’s had to be manually removed. Making sure no one could take control of their lives again, Moreau entered a kill command on the terminal and deleted all the relevant files, making sure her flash drive only contained the data of their reports and not any of the commands.

“916, follow me,” she calmly said, going to the implant surgery room as 916 tagged along.

====

The main hangar was bustling with activity, with white Soldats covered in blue and gray stripes detaching a fuel pipe from a plane as the hangar doors opened to reveal a massive runway. The Soldats were Dyson standard issue, their bulky legs stomping around the concrete while the compact and slender arms put the pipe away and reached for large rifles that fit into their hands. Their horned box-like heads were slowly moving left to right, examining their surroundings. The voices emitting from the machines were distinctly adults, shouting to get the plane moving as soon as possible. Their visors shone a bright blue that showed every single one of them was ready for a fight.

President Sumner did not care about the Soldats he had seen hundreds of times before guarding him, and muttered several obscenities underneath his breath as the plane door opened, many security personnel stepping out of his way.

“What the fuck do we pay high security wages for if you can’t even detect a single government vehicle arriving?!” He shouted at the chief of security.

“Sir, we can’t seem to contact our outside teams. I think it’s possible that-”

“I don’t want conjecture, I want definitive answers, god damn it! Have we deleted all the files yet?!”

‘Yes sir, we have.”

“Good, now get us out of here before they suspect something already!”

The security chief was about to ask about the remaining staff inside headquarters, but decided to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he knocked twice on the pilot’s cabin, signaling for them to take off. The president sighed as he sat in one of the chairs as he felt the plane begin to slowly move forward.

“This is just a political shitstorm waiting to happen. Well captain, I’ll be long gone by the time you-”

President Sumner was rocked out of his thoughts as the entire plane shook violently, making many members shout out in terror while security struggled to remain still. The sounds of gunfire erupted around the plane before several of the Soldats were hit by single shots, many of them falling completely onto the ground while some had their arms blown away and remained still, looking as shocked as the others who weren’t in the bipedal machines.

“Put your weapons down!” An unfamiliar yet commanding voice shouted, loud enough for everyone outside and inside headquarters to hear. “Under authority of the Florence Military Police, we hereby place everyone working under Dyson Incorporated under arrest for the crimes of kidnapping, illegal incorporation of government assets, and bribery! Put your weapons down and surrender peacefully, we are authorized to use force!”

Several Soldats came into view with headlamps bright enough to overpower even the runway lights, all colored in a dark brown and seemed far bulkier than Dyson’s machines who were skimpily armored in comparison. They had no such colored stripes to make them stand out, with the only color separation being their joints connecting each armor piece and limb. Everything about the machines were far more compact and looked as if they could take a beating, though they stood a meter shorter than Dyson’s Soldats. Their head visors were all one large piece of red glass, staring down every company employee.

“I am not being caught by a bunch of federal dogs! ORDER THE MEN TO ATTACK BACK!” The president shouted. With a single nod, the chief of security reached for his transceiver and spoke calmly.

“Fire at will.”

With a single command, the Soldats in the room raised their weapons to open fire, before getting completely shredded by concentrated and disciplined shots, each nailing them straight through the cockpit in the chest or exploding limbs apart. Machines fell to the floor as parts of the plane were caught by Dyson Soldat stray fire, and came tumbling down with all the people inside screaming as it did so. The empty field and hills surrounding Dyson headquarters suddenly became a warzone, with the company deploying their Soldats from the hangars and hidden bunkers that emerged from the ground, some of them getting shot as soon as they appeared.

Florence Soldats emerged from hiding on top of the hills as they aimed their shots carefully at the flailing security mechs, some of the company stray fire hitting the headquarter building, shattering glass and steel and sending it tumbling towards the ground floor. Several of the Dyson Soldats emerged with grenade launchers and fired them at the hills, causing dirt and rocks to soar upwards into the air and onto the already stained machines. Though a few of the Florence Soldats were caught by the explosions and gunfire, they were shot wildly and mostly into the heavily armored parts, letting them shrug it off and continue firing.

“Shit, where did they come from?!” One of the Dyson guards shouted over the comms.

“Don’t fire wildly, dumbasses! Shoot carefully, you’re hitting our own damn building!”

“How did our radar not pick them u-?!” Another one was cut off as a well placed shot went straight through the guard’s cockpit. The machine’s finger was still attached to the trigger as it fell down, the bullets hitting and forming a line of damage across the windows of the upper section of the building.

Compared to the Florence Soldats, the guards were panicking as they aimed wildly and spun around, only landing shots on their enemy’s armor or their own building they were supposed to protect. The soldiers slowly closed in the building, making sure each threat was eliminated one at a time, whether it was by a disabling or a lethal shot. The soldats marched rigidly, the heavy thump of their machinery echoing across the battlefield. The Dyson guards attempted to dodge but were taken out easily as their Soldats moved in straight lines firing wildly, or were just standing completely still. One of the soldiers who was examining the battlefield from a distance with a pair of electronic binoculars just clicked his tongue.

“Aren’t these supposed to be the people who made ‘top of the line’ Soldats or whatever crap they were spouting?”

The soldier next to him just shrugged as he looked back to their own mechs who were kneeling and out of sight. Many more APC’s and Florence Soldats stood behind them, ready to engage if the need arrived.

“They’re a corporation, those guys are probably just paid to tell people they’ll shoot if someone gets too close. Besides, what do you expect when you have Special Forces executing the operation?”

“Heh, explains the bullying I’m seeing…Wait, a sec, the hell are Special Forces doing here, shouldn’t this have been left to us grunts?”

“Apparently it’s got something to do with the nature of the pilots…Hang on, we’re getting the signal to secure the front entrance. Looks like the guards near there are taken care of.”

‘Roger, let’s go.”

====

“Warning! Warning! Facility under attack, evacuate to the nearest shelter immediately. Follow Security personnel and instructions. Warning-”

Moreau’s ears rang as she felt blood rush down her head, brushing aside some of the glass and bits of rubble off her. Inside the surgery room was now a massive hole that revealed the chaos going on outside. She moved to stand up but felt her leg immediately give out. Looking downwards, there was a massive piece of shrapnel that was embedded into the flesh, making her scream in pain as she tried to touch it. Her eyes went wide as she turned to the operating table where 916 was laying. The right part of his head had his scalp visible with the hair surrounding it shaved off, revealing where the behavioral chip was put inside.

While there were scrapes and minor bleeding around his body, thankfully none of the equipment landed on him and was instead scattered around the floor. He was still knocked out from the anesthesia, but she couldn’t tell how long they were knocked out for. Hopefully the blast hadn’t just killed him, but she had no way to check since the terminal was in pieces on the floor.

“If we stay here any longer, we’re going to die! I’m not waiting around for the Florence soldiers…!” With the adrenaline pumping into her body, she stood up despite the burning pain overwhelming her leg and the rest of the body screaming in agony. She went to pick up 916’s small frame into her arms and rushed towards the hallway and to one of the hangars meant for the Enhanced Humans.

Limping across the halls for nearly ten minutes and leaving a trail of blood, Moreau was able to carry 916 and almost to the door before another explosion rocked the building and caused parts of the walls to collapse. Almost dropping them and slamming against the wall she yelped in pain as she felt a sharp stinging pain near her abdomen. Looking down and she realized it wasn’t just her leg that had shrapnel, there were more pieces jutting out the sides of her stomach. When she recognized that, she almost dropped to the floor again, but she clenched her teeth with tears of pain flooding down. She couldn’t stop here, not now.

Slamming the door open into one of the backup hangars, inside were multiple Dyson Soldats, specifically meant for the generation two pilots. Feeling her strength slowly sap, she activated the elevator to bring them up to the cockpit and had it opened, putting 916 inside. Looking at their scalp, her fingers slowly reached for the chip’s handle and gave it a gentle tug. This was the last step that required her presence.

916 slowly opened his eyes and blinked repeatedly, looking downward and recognizing that he was in the cockpit of a R1-N0. And in front of him was Doctor Moreau, who was bleeding profusely and coughing up blood.

“...Doctor, you’re dying,” 916 said, his voice slightly rising above the usual monotone she was used to. She smiled at that. He was able to make his own decisions now.

Cough “I know. Seems a bit too good for me, doesn’t it?” Her bloodied hands first crushed the implant chip, causing even more blood to fall out before it fell limp, Moreau laughing weakly.

“You’ll experience some dizziness after a few days but the symptoms will subside. The rest of your combat chips will remain in you since I wasn’t able to get it out in time.”

“They took longer because I’m an older model.-”

“Don’t…Don’t say that. You’re more than just a product…”

916 did not say anything else as her hand struggled to get up. 916 moved his hand to help her, but she shoved his arm away. Before she fully got up, she reached for something in her pocket and tossed it to 916.

“This is…” 916 looked at the tape with the word ‘Sing’ written on it. “403 showed me this song.”

“It’s yours. If there’s anything positive leaving here, I want it to come with you.”

“What are my orders?”

“Hah…you’re free, why are you asking-”

“I do not know how to act freely. I only know my orders.”

Again she laughed, though this time it was barely audible. She smiled at him, the blood seeping from her head, stomach, and lips. A sight that would startle anyone else, 916 only blinked in mild confusion. They both remained silent as the sounds of gunfire and explosions echoed distantly outside the hangar, soft rumblings occurring every other few moments.

“Death really is too good for me…Your orders are these: get the hell away from here as fast as you can. Don’t trust any Dyson employee. Live your life to the fullest, and don’t waste this chance…”

Moreau fell to her knees as she closed the cockpit, the tactical screens coming to life and 916 felt his spine connect to the chair, the suit suddenly springing upwards. The main camera displayed in front of him, and he could see the doctor on the floor, curled up as the life signs on her began to fade. The hand of his Soldat slowly raised upwards and picked her up, as if to comfort the dying woman. Moreau looked up and saw the horned head staring right at her. She did not even need to see the cockpit open to know what his face was like. She threw her blood soaked lab coat with the flash drive safely tucked into its pocket and threw it away from the Soldat.

“...If you can…Put the tape inside the right console. I’d…like to listen to it, one more time…”

916 grunted in affirmation, though she couldn’t hear that. The right console in the cockpit stored his communications and had a slot that could contain mission data. And at Moreau’s request, it could also fit small tapes in the odd event of classified data needing to be stored more subtly. The very idea of it was quite strange to him, but he decided to go along with it…Did he always think of it that way? He had been inside the R1-N0 on at least twenty different deployments, yet he swore he never had an opinion about it before.

The Soldat began to broadcast a tune that echoed throughout the entire hangar. What 916 did not realize was that he had the song on an open channel, meaning everyone in the vicinity could hear it as clearly as he did.

‘Sing, sing a song Let the world sing along~’

====

Many Florence Soldats stopped their firing and turned to their comms, frowning and trying to find the source of the music.

“The hell is this?” “Is that music?” “I think I know this song.” “Sir, the source is coming from inside the building!” “Didn’t this play at the training site…?!”

‘Sing of love there could be Sing for you and for me~’

The Dyson guards suddenly snapped around towards the direction of an unopened hangar, many of them trembling in their cockpits.

“It’s…It’s that fucking song again!” “Weren’t the EH’s taken care of?!” “G-GUNS READY! FORGET ABOUT THE FEDS!” “Oh god, please no…!”

‘Sing, sing a song Make it simple to last Your whole life long~’

Alana and several soldiers looked at the intercom, listening to the music playing as they secured the main lobby. Many of the employees looked frightened at the song while the kids they were escorting suddenly started humming along, albeit emotionlessly.

“What’s happening…?” Alana thought to himself, a sense of dread suddenly washing over his calm battle instincts.

‘Don't worry that it's not Good enough for anyone Else to hear~’

Justeen and a squad burst through a door with a blood trail coming out of it and found a singular Dyson Soldat blasting music, with a scientist slowly bleeding in its hand. The head seemed to be moving in sync with the music, but did not appear to be hostile despite the fact it saw them.

“Shit, is that our man?” Justeen grumbled, pointing her pistol at the Soldat.

‘Just sing, sing a song

(Just sing, sing a song)

Just sing, sing a song’

916 wasn’t smiling as he listened to the song, but it made him feel at ease. A few years ago, 403, her brother, and several other generation one pilots listened to this song together in the waiting rooms. It made those nights much more bearable, being able to ignore the cold of the facility simply by just having sung together. Pleasant. That was not a word he had used in a while. Cold, feeling at ease, many other feelings 916 did not know the words for, but it made him feel something. All he felt was beginning to overwhelm his senses. 916 called to memory about 403’s brother after listening to the song. He had asked a simple question.

‘La la la la la—’

The song stopped as 916’s battle instincts kicked in and he slammed his right fist against the communications console…Then, a feeling he did know the word for, though it was the tip of his tongue. He remembered the words 403 asked that had caused the incident, what had caused the guards to open fire and hit the trainee center, what had caused all the generation one members to go rampant. What had taken his only friends away. He always knew the feeling, and thanks to Moreau he had remembered. It was thanks to Moreau, those feelings were taken away in the first place.

His facial expression remained unchanged, but his pupils dilated as the hud in front of him showed a rise in heartbeat. He finally remembered the name for the feeling. Anger.

He finally remembered the question.

“...Doctor Moreau. Is there heaven?” 916 asked.

“...Isn’t that voice coming from the Soldat?” One of the soldiers next to Justeen asked. The Soldat’s head was looking at the doctor, and finally the squad began connecting the dots.

“...Is…Is that a child?!” Justeen asked, her mind fully comprehending the horror that was unfolding itself.

“All 403 wanted was just an answer…” 916 stated, his heartbeat spiking further up.

“...Isn’t that voice coming from the Soldat?” One of the soldiers next to Justeen asked. The Soldat’s head was looking at the doctor, and finally the squad began connecting the dots.

“...Is…Is that a child?!” Justeen asked, her mind fully comprehending the horror that was unfolding itself.

“All 403 wanted was just an answer…” 916 stated, his heartbeat spiking further up.

“ONE OF THOSE GEN ONE FREAKS IS IN THE SOLDAT!” A Dyson guard shouted in the comms channel. A channel that everyone could hear. 916’s violet eyes quickly turned to red as a deep robotic voice echoed within the machine.

“CE-DRIVE ACTIVATED.”

Justeen saw the visor of the Soldat turn scarlet as the fist suddenly clenched, making a sickening crushing noise as blood gushed and seeped through the fingers. The head jerked towards the hangar door as the Soldat crouched, then ignited its thrusters to crash through it.

Both sides witnessed the speed of which an unopened hangar suddenly burst with a Dyson Soldat, shrapnel flying through the ground and shattering the silence and door alike. Its visor was completely red and it was unarmed, making it stand out from its fellow machines. The head suddenly jerked again towards one of the Dyson guards and leapt with an unnatural agility.

It landed on top of the Dyson Soldat it singled out, one of its hands quickly reaching through the chest and tearing out its cockpit and stomping on it like a wild beast. The guards began to open fire with their rifles, but not before it quickly used its thrusters to speed away from the gunfire, no one able to land their shots anywhere near it. The Florence Soldats quickly stepped back and watched in horror as this lone Dyson Soldat tore through its own ranks.

“S-Sir what the hell is that?!” One of the horrified Florence soldiers shouted, narrowly dodging one of the stray shots. “No way that’s just a guard!”

“That thing’s way too bulky to be moving around like a human! How the-?!”

“Pull back, pull back!” The officer commanded, everyone trying their best to get out of the way.

916 felt the electric surge throughout his whole body, his spine connected to the R1-N0 enhanced his awareness, his combat performance, but also his emotions. Though his face did not change, his rapid breathing, the dilating pupils and the rush of adrenaline told him exactly what to feel. Rage. Rage against the ones who took the lives of his friends. Of his own.

916’s R1-N0 crashed straight into another of the Dyson guards, using their mech to block incoming bullets, most of the bullets bouncing off the armor as he sped towards another guard. Putting its fist through the cockpit and the other at the waist, 916 tore the machine in half. He threw the upper half aside and used its legs as a bludgeoning weapon, completely caving in the torso of the one shooting and slid past it. From the perspective of everyone else, he had just accomplished that feat within ten seconds.

He felt blood rushing down his nose, as his breathing became more frantic and rapid. Though there was combat data rushing into his brain, he was not using a single bit of it, instead relying on pure instinct to tear them apart and escape. Grabbing one of the rifles on the ground, the R1-N0 hurtled towards the back of the headquarters and fired single shots at the main cameras of the suits, disabling them and causing them to panic and shoot wildly. The soldiers would deal with them first before getting to him. The part of him that wanted to ask why there were soldiers even present was buried by the one telling him he needed to flee.

Many of the soldiers got out of the way as the R1-N0 destroyed every single Dyson Guard, though many of them realized it was actively ignoring their presence. Or rather, it did not seem to care if they were there at all.

916 hurtled down the open field and towards one of the hangars that was opening and revealed two more Dyson guards. Inside was an emergency tunnel that would lead towards the border of the country and outside of Florence jurisdiction in case of emergencies of being found out. The guards had no chance to even react before 916 slammed into one of them, slamming the finger on the gun’s trigger at the other’s cockpit and making sure to hit the generator inside with its hail of bullets, causing it to create a miniature explosion.

The way behind him caved in with rocks and metal falling as he grabbed the mech he slammed into, using its body to block the tunnel and used the remaining ammo to detonate the other guard in the same manner. There was a small bus traveling through the middle, which he could only assume were scientists and soldiers, and barrelled right through them, sending the machine toppling and into the railing on its side.

916’s breathing finally started to stabilize as his consciousness began to fade, his eyes turning back into violet. His eyes struggled to remain open as the autopilot initiated, and kept driving forward.

…

David had just received word about some kind of skirmish happening at the borders of Florence and Cumbria, and was sent alongside his PMC to ensure it would not break out into Cumbria. David’s dark skin glistened in the sun, his muscles almost ripping out of his tank top, brushing back his brushed up black hair. He almost felt insulted that he was hired for such a boring job. He sighed to himself as he and the other mercenaries stood outside their Soldats, standing around doing nothing.

Each of their Soldats was unique, David’s was a glorified tank with arms, standing only a meter taller than an actual tank, but was engineered to have a head, massive battle cannons mounted on the shoulders, and machine guns on the arms. Part of him wondered if some crackhead designed the thing, but he couldn’t deny how effective it was. Meanwhile, the men serving under him were Florence Military Soldats salvaged from black markets and empty battlefields, but with markings and mismatched armor plates to set them apart. Was it the best? Hell no, not by a long shot, but it’d get the job done. Especially an uneventful border patrol like this.

“Boss, think any actions gonna come to us?” One of the younger voices spoke out.

“Psh, if we’re lucky,” David replied. “But you know what happens if some shit does show up. Florence is gonna cry bloody murder it ain’t them who’s breaking the treaty. Probably gonna blame it on people like us.”

“To be fair boss, not exactly untrue.” A female voice chimed in.

“Heh. Didn’t say we weren’t to blame.” David replied, chuckling.

He sat on the side of his Soldat, his legs hitting the tank tread as he contemplated what to even do with the money they would get from this job. On one hand, it was easy enough to where even the rookies could do it in their sleep. On the other, said rookies would have zero experience in case an actual fight broke out- Something in the distance caught his eye. The ground was slowly starting to move upwards, revealing a large metallic door.

“...What in the-?” David muttered to himself, raising an eyebrow. The other mercenaries saw the same thing, and immediately got into their cockpits and aimed their weapons at it. Getting into his tank Soldat, he aimed the cannons right at the door.

“No one fire until my go!” David shouted into his comms, his finger ready on the trigger.

What the hell was Florence doing? If they launched an actual invasion there’s no way both sides would not resort to firing everything they got in response- His thoughts were cut off as the door had a noticeable clang ring out from behind it. Something very heavy just collided into the door, but it did not seem to have an intention to come out. Two of the mercenaries slowly approached it, moving as tactically as they could as their machines moved to pry the doors open while having their weapons still at the ready.

When they finally opened it, everyone braced themselves for an attack, only to find a single R1-N0 Soldat standing on the opposite side, the white armor completely stained in dirt and blast marks. The notorious blue visor it had was flickering between black and red. It then shut off for good as it collapsed onto its back, causing a small dust cloud to form and stain the white even further.

David scanned the Soldat and saw that its systems had gone completely offline. The two mercenaries by the door checked inside and saw nothing. Nothing on their scanners for miles on end, and with two diverging paths at the end of it. There was no telling where it came from. The female merc got out of her Soldat and investigated the cockpit. Her eyes went wide as she reached for her earpiece.

“Boss there’s a kid in the seat!” She shouted right before going to grab the child out of it.

The other mercenaries surrounded the area to make sure an ambush wasn’t waiting to happen, while securing the perimeter. David stepped out of his Soldat and got a closer look at the child himself. He had a bloodstain below his nose, and his spine was protruding out in a way that made him feel sick, and that was not even including all the wires connecting it and his chest.

“Is he alive?” David asked.

“Think so. Kid looks like he went through hell…”

“Sure looks like it…Are those numbers on his neck?”

“It says…Nine-One-Six…?”

=======

PROLOGUE: END

A/N: HOLY CRAP, you actually reached down here, thank you SO SO much for reading this! I know that was a lot of words thrown at you, but I hope it was at least an enjoyable read! There's a lot more to come, so if you're at all interested in this story, stay tuned! See ya at Chapter 1! - Chris Side note: Chat GPT is HORRIFYING. I used it as a feedback machine to make sure what I was writing was coming across correctly, and it got every one of my intentions correct. Even my foreshadowing. WHAT HAS TECHNOLOGY DONE

#916 #oc story #original story #mecha story #oc scifi story #long post #long chapter

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