Super Robot Quest

1320, 24 July A.D. 2072
Ground Pound Facilities

You've decided on one thing: apparently you have to be just a little bit mad in order to even think about making a Super Robot. If Wilde, Henry and even Ignatov weren't a convincing enough argument about this, then Sam and Max are. Hell, you're fairly certain that Zulu would be considered a somewhat cracked physique by Kausen Drone standards (that he gets along decently with Max only lends to the argument in your opinion).

Such as it is when you are making your way towards Jenkins' office that you hear a large explosion coming from one of the warehouses. A moment later, you're more worried about the fact that your first thought was 'huh, haven't heard those in awhile' rather than 'oh, crap, an explosion.'

A man in a hardhat strides out from the smoke clouds coming from the warehouse, seemingly utterly unconcerned about the fact that he was covered in soot from an explosion. "Hmm, nope," he muttered to himself as he adjusted the hardhat back to a proper angle. His voice sounded like it came from somewhere further south on the coast, but you're not sure from where exactly. "Five fusion generators still ain't givin' us the proper power for locomotive action." You realize with a start that, after seeing the goggles, this must be Neer. Putting up a gloved hand to his face, he called out, "Phil! Gonna need to write up that attempt!" He frowns as a largely muffled voice, so distorted you can't make out any of the words, calls back. "Phil, structural degradation's the last of our darned worries right now!" He finally looks up and notices you. "Don't you mind this none," he says in a cheerful voice. "Cleans up in a jiff. Experimental trial and error at its finest, don't you know."

"I'm used to it," you say in a dry tone. "Major Devin. Just looking for-"

"Ohhh, right, right," Neer says, still in a cheery tone despite the firefighting teams desperately putting out the flames behind him. "No, you're not looking for that admin building, she's hardly ever in there. Down two warehouses and make a left. Can't miss it."

"Thanks." As you continue to make your way down, you internally grumble about how even in a different Super Robot project, you're just used to this sort of thing. You wonder if Jenkins is yet.

---

1334, 24 July A.D. 2072
Ground Pound Administration
Office of the Development Coordinator

The answer, as it turns out, is sort of.

"And I'm still wondering when he's going to report that particular incident," Lenora Jenkins grumbles after you casually mention what you just came across. Her office is a little more cramped, but that's to be expected - you got to inherit a Dean's office. She's making do with existing military facilities. Not that it's stopped her from accumulating a lot of tea bags and paper cups all over the office. "The only good thing about that is that it's the last data we need to show that conventional power sources aren't going to cut it here."

You'd already decided that you weren't going to be a colossal jerk about it - as far as you could tell, Jenkins was the only person in the whole EUDF you could technically call your peer. Someone who had unconventional thinking, and was immediately saddled with making something on just this side of impossible. So while you'd opened up with some pleasantries, she immediately noticed some of the smoke and soot had latched onto your uniform. "I'm pretty sure that was Neer," you say with a shrug. "But you're running into problems with generators?"

"Issue of scale." She shrugs as she sips at her tea. "You guys went for the configuration deal. The vision my guys have is a brawler, kind of like Mercury. And between my engineers and the scrap parts from New York, we have enough to start on a prototype." She grumbles in frustration as she tosses away the cup, the disposable paper bouncing into a nearly full waste basket. "But we want it armored, we want it with firepower, and we want it without busting the budget. And we want it to walk."

You silently thank your lucky stars that the engineering mad geniuses of Wilde and Henry managed to get around that problem with jury-rigging multiple vehicle engines together to the point it was becoming standard. But your frames are at least of conventional vehicle size for the most part. Jenkins was aiming for large scale, at least from what she's said. And you know she's speaking her mind and her complaints, but not enough to really give specifics to a potential competitor, no matter how friendly. Sensible.

"Word of advice?" you caution. "Don't let the engineers run roughshod over you." She makes a questioning noise. You explain, "I'm assuming your guys are the best at what they do. And that they think outside of the norm. That's great, but you have to keep them focused on what you need, not on what they think is just cool." That Wilde and Henry's ideas qualified for both was a happy accident. "I'll say this. Our guys went in relatively blind, and we can more or less fight whatever we have to. You are early enough that you can think about what your mission loadout is. Kaiju? Separatists?"

"All moot points if I can't find a good power source," she points out mildly. Which is a fair point, really. "I'm going to be honest. As much headway as Gus and Schemming are making, you've been this way already. My boss doesn't have as much pull as yours does when it comes to finding experts, and I'm going to need someone who can give me that extra angle of crazy."

You snort in laughter, but hold up your hands to forestall any angry outburst. "Crazy's the right word for it," you say. "I'm pretty sure everyone in my staff is nuts in one way or another. Also pretty sure they have to be - no one sane can make these things, and make these things work."

"...god, I wish you were wrong there," she mutters. "Seriously, though. Help me, and I'll find a way to pay you back. Don't particularly care for any of the political turf wars going on with the officers on the star-levels; I'll make sure we have your back down the road."

Still, even as you wrap up the conversation, you've gotten a pretty good feel for things.


You're in a position to help. And while having the gratitude of an adjacent unit is usually non-critical (if nice to have)...it might be worthwhile to make the effort anyway. Quite honestly, another functioning Super Robot is far from the worst thing to have online. And you still don't trust Armistead to not cause trouble, or worse, trying to strongarm Ground Pound into his sphere. Getting them on side now would certainly help...

1620, 27 July A.D. 2072
Vicinity of Brest, European District

Ichiro Banner - SAI-01 - is a young mecha. Or a 'local Kaus' if you believed Patch and Cavalier. By human reckoning, he's incredibly young - barely even a year old. By AI standards, he was adjusted enough to have learned a few things here and there, yet wise enough to know he wasn't all-knowing.

For instance: he didn't know why exactly the Intelligence people around him were growing more and more...confused. Concerned. Something along those lines. They'd been putting together a picture of what exactly had been going on beneath their noses, and they clearly were not liking what they saw. What Ichiro did know was that he was relatively happy he didn't know what they were finding in detail. He had one specific job: subdue any trouble that came their way.

Which was probably going to be pretty soon, knowing his luck.

"So!" Ichiro didn't jump - he was in tank mode, idling beneath an alcove concealed in tarp - but he still had no idea how Anna did that. In a huff, the blonde-haired woman sat herself down on a chair next to the idling tank, looking incredibly annoyed. "People were turned, sure enough. Barely any funding in maintaining an old wreck like the Bismarck, so that's easy enough to understand. But they just disappeared."

"As in, thin-air disappeared?" Ichiro asked skeptically.

"Trust me, it makes no sense for us either." Biting down on a sandwich in hand, she angrily chewed before muttering, "Irnmrycycss uvvgtnthn." Vaguely translating from mouthful - "In any case, I've got nothing." Swallowing her food thankfully, she added, "Barring some bullshit new method of travel they have, there should have been no way for anyone to get away, much less a derelict. It's a peninsula, there were no traces of submarines or aerial transport or underground drilltank or anything."

Hearing all this was giving him all the details he was blissfully unaware of before. Ichiro...wasn't fond of that. But for whatever reason, Anna was venting to him. That, and he was mildly concerned that she even was considering underground drilltanks as a viable method - until he remembered that she was talking to a sentient configuring tank. Anything's possible, he guessed. "What, like teleporting?" he asked warily. "Dumb as that sounds, I know."

"Of course not," she scoffed, "Teleporting is-"

Her next words were interrupted as an alert sounded on her phone. "Oh, what now?" she muttered as she pulled out her phone -

-and her face blanched at what she saw.

"What?" Ichiro asked, but before he could say anything further, she wordlessly sent the message straight towards him. A new window opened at the corner of his vision, displaying what looked like a priority transmission:


"...okay, then," Ichiro muttered to himself.

"That's it? 'Okay, then?'" Anna parroted. "This is-"

"-what you brought me here for," the tank responded. The engine abruptly flared to life, and the restraints holding the tarp in place began to become undone one by one. "This part's my job, remember?"

It wasn't exactly how he imagined it would go, but Ichiro was ready to do something other than just sit around and do nothing.

---

1633, 27 July A.D. 2072
<ERROR: LOCALE UNKNOWN>

"Hydraulics check!" The massive frame groaned as the internal systems began to cycle through once more, the gigantic jury-rigged monster shuddering as any final errors were filtered out. The skeletal frame inside belied the hulking, harshly angled behemoth of armored plating presented the outer world, lights bright as mirrors reflecting onto the dulled steel.

"Hydraulics good to go, Bruce!"

"Engine check!" Immediately a dull roar emanated from within the frame. Adding its tortured voice to the hydraulics, it sounded nothing less like an ogre rudely being awakened from a long nap - and wanting to snap the neck of whoever disturbed its slumber.

"Aye, Bruce! Engines warmed up ready and proper!"

"Targeting check!" The bright, white lights of the room found themselves immediately clashing with the dull red glare of the 'head' of the beast - for that was what this thing was, a Beast. The gunner's targeting HUD immediately flared to life - dummy targets, artifacts from its previous foray in the European District, were ruthlessly extinguished as the system parsed through the many false positives and associated weapons groups were properly linked in. Soon, the screen was blank, save for the updated HUD.

"Targeting's a good 'un, Bruce!"

"Hydraulics, Engine, Targeting all checked out! Standing by for final launch!" The chief of the motley crew paused - the bastard from higher wasn't due for a few more minutes, and they had to wait for the bloody Tank-Mobile things to do the initial work. And since they were just waiting while the last of the ammo was loaded up proper..."eh, why not?" he muttered. "Beer check!"

As one, the sound of three beer cans hissing open echoed inside of the Beast's cockpit. "Cheers to Westphalia, lads!" came back the pre-launch toast.

---

0144, 27 July A.D. 2072
Command Center

The only warning you received that anything was going on on your return trip home was a hurried, terse message from Anna. That something was bearing down on them, likely Separatists, and Ichiro was already rolling out to intercept them.

Because of course this couldn't have waited until things panned out from what you and Sasaki had planned earlier.* It sounded like some sort of copy of the Jackals...which, in a twisted sort of sense, was bringing this whole affair full circle. Callaghan surprised them with the prototype Jackal, and now they were pushing out their responses to it.

Sasaki was already rushing back and forth with Diana, bringing online (and rousing awake) as much information and support as possible, but there was only so much you could do from a continent and an ocean away. There wasn't any chance of sending the Pegasus across in a timely manner, and you doubt that Anna is going to be appreciative of anything more explicit than Ichiro arriving to blow what's left of their cover.

You just had to trust Anna and Ichiro. But that said, there was at least one thing you could do:

[] You immediately reach for the communications frequency of Mander Security Solutions. You're probably jumping a few chains of communication, but this is frankly an emergency - and they did promise support earlier. Let's see if you can't get their support just a little bit sooner, even if you have to barter a favor or two.

[] Reach out to General Li about sending reinforcements. He's close enough that something along the lines of 'Separatist attack' should be within his jurisdiction. There's no guarantee his forces will make it in time, but at least it's something...