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- Joined
- Jan 4, 2015
His mind was shattered, swimming in and out of short bursts of consciousness. Not enough awareness yet for complex thoughts, but just enough to feel the jagged, gnawing pain ravaging the space between his ears, and just behind his eyes. His thoughts slowly returned to him, as his brain felt and processed more of his environment. The sounds of faint, hoarse coughing of in the distance, followed by a remorseful wailing a little closer. Metal clattering. The scent of unwashed bodies and grease...
Max Sat up quickly from his spot on a cold rusted metal floor, his gray eyes wide, his face covered in streaks of black soot and glistening with sweat. His eyes then immediately clenched shut as the full force of his headache struck his nerve endings, making him bring one of his powerful hands up to hold the side of his head. He groaned.
The year was 3045, hundreds of years after the human race had developed space flight, faster than light travel, and had colonized many worlds and star systems in a spherical shape with the earth directly in the center.
The "Inner Sphere" it was called, and like humanity would always do until its extinction, there was war. And in this advanced age, the preferred weapons were colossal engines of destruction. Huge, robotic war machines called, "Battlemechs."
The Inner Sphere was ruled by several noble houses, with each territory squabbling over star systems and resources like the feudal kingdoms of old. The constant warring and destruction had cost humanity a heavy toll in lives and knowledge, with many advanced technologies developed during the Star League era having been forgotten and buried under the rubble of countless battlefields.
Only two decades ago, the infamous mercenary company known as "The Gray Death Legion" had unearthed an intact Star League era computer core, filled with the advanced knowledge that had been lost. Realizing its true value, and not trusting the local faster than light telecommunications network, the Legion made many copies of the data contained therein, and did their best to disseminate it themselves. In the few years that followed, a technological Renaissance was stimulated, and humanity made great strides in the realm of medical, military, and civil engineering.
Liao engineers had been working on something beforehand, and the release of this old information had suddenly made older documents and blueprints suddenly make sense. Breakthroughs were made.
Max was not entirely sure what the breakthrough was. All he knew was that his mercenary company had been hired out to acquire it.
Like all grunts, he was only given enough information to complete his part of the mission, which was to pilot his fifty ton war machine, and to keep faster moving enemies off of the bigger, more powerful, but ultimately slower mechs, allowing them to punch a hole in the enemies defenses. Colonel Lawhorn had given him an order, and like a good Soldier Max had followed his orders without question. All he thought about was his payday. A payday that would likely never come now.
Despite his best efforts, his company of eight mechs had been ambushed and outgunned by a vastly superior force. Within the first few minutes of battle, focused particle cannon fire had ripped through the Colonel's massive 100 ton king crab chassis, leaving it to be just another smoldering, rusted heap on some forgotten battlefield. One by one their mechs had fallen, with Max's Swayback being the last. He could still hear their voices screaming in agony over his radio, as they burned in the ferro fibrous coffins.... He flinched. As a new recruit, Max had barely known any of them, he was just a green, eager newcomer, wanting to prove himself in the eyes of his new comrades.
His mech had suffered a reactor hit, making it overheat and shut down. His adrenaline had been pumping hard, and he had been bloodthirsty. He grabbed the battle rifle from its stowage rack, and kicked open the hatch of his stricken mech. He likely wouldn't do much, but he was determined to die with a weapon in his hands, and to go down fighting. As soon as his boots had hit the battle torn soil at his mech's feet, an enemy war machine had unleashed a barrage of short range missile fire at his Swayback, striking true. The Lance Corporal didn't remember much after that. He surmised the concussion from the blasts nearby had knocked him unconscious.
Max rubbed the side of his head, easing the pain away, and slowly scanned his surroundings. He was in a four foot by eight foot metal room. Behind him was a small one foot square window, covered with bars, Artificial light filtered in from it from the sodium vapor lights outside. In front of him was a barred wall, similar to a prison cell.
No, exactly like a prison cell. This was one of those mobile containment facilities, made to be set up in a hurry. And from the sounds of things, he wasn't the only prisoner here. Many people had been captured, and some in worse shape that he was. He tested his arms and his legs, stretching them, checking for any injuries. There was a slight twinge and soreness in his left shoulder, but otherwise he was not seriously injured.
Inside of the cell was a folded gray blanket, similar to what one was issued in boot camp... Made of recycled plastic fibers.
He grunted, and stood up, going to the barred door at the front of his cell. He knew it was futile, but he gripped the metal in his powerful hands anyways, and tried to shake the door, testing it.
It rattled slightly, but otherwise held strong. A soldier then walked by, dressed in a Capellan green uniform, holding a combat rifle. The soldier was just out of his reach, else he would have tried grabbing at him.
Just so long as he sent one of these bastards to hell before they killed him, he would be satisfied.
He ran a soot covered hand over his short high and tight haircut, and adjusted his sleeveless olive drab undershirt they had left on him. He was likewise wearing his camouflage cargo pants, but his feet were bare. His boots must have been taken away when he was knocked out. His belt was likewise missing.
No shoelaces or belt... Damn.
He thought as he relaxed upon the bars, watching the patrol guard as he walked. Lost in thought. He looked into the cell across from his. He could barely make out the human outline in the shadows...
Max shook his head, and slumped down against the metal back wall of his prison, snatching up his blanket, gnawing at its sewn edge with his teeth, ripping at it, growling angrily.
Finally, the seam ripped. Max grinned, but then stopped as he saw the guard walk by again, eyeing him this time. Max wanted to strangle him with his bare hands, to choke the life from his damned haughty face.
However, the soldier just averted his eyes, trying to give the illusion of a man defeated, someone who was no threat at all. The guard continued walking past.
As soon as he was out of sight, max continued his work, tearing a few long strips off of his blanket, and tying them together like a makeshift rope.
"Just you wait greenie..." He wispered under his breath to the guard walking around outside. "...I'll have a few choice words for you, soon enough..."
Max Sat up quickly from his spot on a cold rusted metal floor, his gray eyes wide, his face covered in streaks of black soot and glistening with sweat. His eyes then immediately clenched shut as the full force of his headache struck his nerve endings, making him bring one of his powerful hands up to hold the side of his head. He groaned.
The year was 3045, hundreds of years after the human race had developed space flight, faster than light travel, and had colonized many worlds and star systems in a spherical shape with the earth directly in the center.
The "Inner Sphere" it was called, and like humanity would always do until its extinction, there was war. And in this advanced age, the preferred weapons were colossal engines of destruction. Huge, robotic war machines called, "Battlemechs."
The Inner Sphere was ruled by several noble houses, with each territory squabbling over star systems and resources like the feudal kingdoms of old. The constant warring and destruction had cost humanity a heavy toll in lives and knowledge, with many advanced technologies developed during the Star League era having been forgotten and buried under the rubble of countless battlefields.
Only two decades ago, the infamous mercenary company known as "The Gray Death Legion" had unearthed an intact Star League era computer core, filled with the advanced knowledge that had been lost. Realizing its true value, and not trusting the local faster than light telecommunications network, the Legion made many copies of the data contained therein, and did their best to disseminate it themselves. In the few years that followed, a technological Renaissance was stimulated, and humanity made great strides in the realm of medical, military, and civil engineering.
Liao engineers had been working on something beforehand, and the release of this old information had suddenly made older documents and blueprints suddenly make sense. Breakthroughs were made.
Max was not entirely sure what the breakthrough was. All he knew was that his mercenary company had been hired out to acquire it.
Like all grunts, he was only given enough information to complete his part of the mission, which was to pilot his fifty ton war machine, and to keep faster moving enemies off of the bigger, more powerful, but ultimately slower mechs, allowing them to punch a hole in the enemies defenses. Colonel Lawhorn had given him an order, and like a good Soldier Max had followed his orders without question. All he thought about was his payday. A payday that would likely never come now.
Despite his best efforts, his company of eight mechs had been ambushed and outgunned by a vastly superior force. Within the first few minutes of battle, focused particle cannon fire had ripped through the Colonel's massive 100 ton king crab chassis, leaving it to be just another smoldering, rusted heap on some forgotten battlefield. One by one their mechs had fallen, with Max's Swayback being the last. He could still hear their voices screaming in agony over his radio, as they burned in the ferro fibrous coffins.... He flinched. As a new recruit, Max had barely known any of them, he was just a green, eager newcomer, wanting to prove himself in the eyes of his new comrades.
His mech had suffered a reactor hit, making it overheat and shut down. His adrenaline had been pumping hard, and he had been bloodthirsty. He grabbed the battle rifle from its stowage rack, and kicked open the hatch of his stricken mech. He likely wouldn't do much, but he was determined to die with a weapon in his hands, and to go down fighting. As soon as his boots had hit the battle torn soil at his mech's feet, an enemy war machine had unleashed a barrage of short range missile fire at his Swayback, striking true. The Lance Corporal didn't remember much after that. He surmised the concussion from the blasts nearby had knocked him unconscious.
Max rubbed the side of his head, easing the pain away, and slowly scanned his surroundings. He was in a four foot by eight foot metal room. Behind him was a small one foot square window, covered with bars, Artificial light filtered in from it from the sodium vapor lights outside. In front of him was a barred wall, similar to a prison cell.
No, exactly like a prison cell. This was one of those mobile containment facilities, made to be set up in a hurry. And from the sounds of things, he wasn't the only prisoner here. Many people had been captured, and some in worse shape that he was. He tested his arms and his legs, stretching them, checking for any injuries. There was a slight twinge and soreness in his left shoulder, but otherwise he was not seriously injured.
Inside of the cell was a folded gray blanket, similar to what one was issued in boot camp... Made of recycled plastic fibers.
He grunted, and stood up, going to the barred door at the front of his cell. He knew it was futile, but he gripped the metal in his powerful hands anyways, and tried to shake the door, testing it.
It rattled slightly, but otherwise held strong. A soldier then walked by, dressed in a Capellan green uniform, holding a combat rifle. The soldier was just out of his reach, else he would have tried grabbing at him.
Just so long as he sent one of these bastards to hell before they killed him, he would be satisfied.
He ran a soot covered hand over his short high and tight haircut, and adjusted his sleeveless olive drab undershirt they had left on him. He was likewise wearing his camouflage cargo pants, but his feet were bare. His boots must have been taken away when he was knocked out. His belt was likewise missing.
No shoelaces or belt... Damn.
He thought as he relaxed upon the bars, watching the patrol guard as he walked. Lost in thought. He looked into the cell across from his. He could barely make out the human outline in the shadows...
Max shook his head, and slumped down against the metal back wall of his prison, snatching up his blanket, gnawing at its sewn edge with his teeth, ripping at it, growling angrily.
Finally, the seam ripped. Max grinned, but then stopped as he saw the guard walk by again, eyeing him this time. Max wanted to strangle him with his bare hands, to choke the life from his damned haughty face.
However, the soldier just averted his eyes, trying to give the illusion of a man defeated, someone who was no threat at all. The guard continued walking past.
As soon as he was out of sight, max continued his work, tearing a few long strips off of his blanket, and tying them together like a makeshift rope.
"Just you wait greenie..." He wispered under his breath to the guard walking around outside. "...I'll have a few choice words for you, soon enough..."
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