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Chapter 31 (YEAR 2052)
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Games of Invictus Chapter 32 (YEAR 2052)
My command capsule streaked through the clouds, shrouding the battlefield below in white. To the naked eye, my command capsule rocketed to six-thousand feet above the Earth and simply disappeared. Of course, I knew better. Above me, the sky opened like a door, exposing a metal interior filled with mechs. My dropship. Visually camouflaged and practically undetectable by radar, dropships were used to discreetly transport mechs by every faction in the Iron War. Dropships were hidden from view but never weaponized-a global agreement forged after far too many aerial fatalities. I could see the dropship's camouflaged exterior part for a brief moment, exposing its gray hull for an instant. All sleek curves and rounded edges, the dropship was a nuclear-powered marvel of technology. Keeping it in the air was impressive-using it to carry building-sized mechs was another feat entirely. Thankfully, it was Lucas' job to worry about keeping the dropship flying-mechs were my only concern. A door
Games of Invictus Chapter 33 (YEAR 2052)
The Exodus looked like a giant red kettle. Its big, bowl-shaped body and raised shoulders gave it an ornate look, accented by the gold decals that decorated its armour. The owner had put substance before style, certainly, but there was still plenty of style to spare on the body of the Exodus. A giant, stylish red kettle, then. It's amazing what nonsense goes through your head when you're dodging missiles launched from said giant red kettle of death. "Blast!" I growled, and slammed my hand onto the activation key. The odds were good enough. I could feel my teeth vibrate as the back of the Prototype folded outward on itself, the jagged armour behind my cockpit peeling back like a gate to allow access to something new. The Prototype's secret weapon. Only, it wasn't a weapon. It was a crystalline pyramid of electronics and synthetic glass that poked out of the armour a few centimetres above the mech, shimmering in the midday sun. The quiet hum it made failed to convey the true power
Games of Invictus Chapter 34 (YEAR 2052)
Eleven. Eleven mechs. That was the exact number of enemies I had just made. Eleven pilots from different factions, all determined to cut my escape short. They were bigger, angrier and more powerful than I was, but I had one saving grace. I was faster than all of them. Bullets peppered the air around me and plasma nipped at my heels. The Prototype careened through the industrial park, narrowly avoiding buildings as it did so. "Lucas!" I shouted. A missile barrage impacted the building next to me, vaporizing three floors in a single blast and pelting my mech with a hail of stone. I tapped my comm headset with one hand, making sure it was working. A blast from a howitzer cannon disintegrated an abandoned car near me, sending glass and metal soaring. "Lucas, for crying out loud," I tried again, "answer the comm before I get turned into slag!" My comms hissed, and a moment later I was nearly deafened by a shout. "I have half a mind to let them waste you, Quinn!" Lucas roared, his an
Games of Invictus Chapter 35 (YEAR 2052)
Report: Quinn The interior of Dropship 13. Russian airspace. The rough metal tread of the hangar bay floor dug into my knees as I landed, gasping for breath. You never notice how suffocating it is inside a mech until you're outside once again. I stood shakily, slick with sweat, and laughed, raising my arms and enjoying the cool air on my skin. Below me hung the Prototype. The mech's once-smooth armour was scuffed and chipped, pitted with dents from bullets and other projectiles. One plasma cannon hung from the mech's side, its long, bulbous frame scratched and bent. The launcher on the opposite side of the mech, however, was much worse for wear. A twisted hunk of metal hung limp, emitting an occasional spark as power ran uselessly through the crippled unit. Lucas wouldn't be pleased. The interior of Dropship 13 was a dim, vast space filled with mechs that hung down from mechanical arms like sleeping bats. Reddish-brown metal grates lined the walls as well as the floor, doubling a
Games of Invictus Chapter 36 (YEAR 2052)
Report: Quinn Just off the coast of Nova Scotia. Canada. Prototype tactical launch platform. Designation: "The Firmament" Despite its stark exterior, the Firmament's interior was nothing short of beautiful. The interior of the half-kilometre-tall station was hollow, occupied by platforms of varying sizes ringing its interior circumference. Railings, elevators and bridges snaked throughout at random, connecting each ring of platforms like the arteries of some massive being. A glass dome built into the base's top allowed sunlight to shine on the higher platforms, while the lower levels were illuminated by a network of LED lights. At the base's bottom sat the beating heart of the Firmament, an enormous hexagonal shape strung up with an uncountable number of wires. The nuclear reactor core hummed within its insulated prison, generating enough energy to power the entire facility for the foreseeable future. The core sat on the very lowest platform in the entire base, held just above t
Games of Invictus Chapter 37 (YEAR 2052)
"Two weeks," Dan insisted. "You're out of your mind!" I shot back. "The Prowler came back in one piece. That is not worth two weeks of running errands for you." "Mostly in one piece," Lucas interjected. "Sixteen days," Dan added. "That's longer than two weeks!" I snapped. "This is a terrible negotiation!" "It's not a negotiation," Dan replied, "it's a hostage situation." "It doesn't matter if Dan tells her," Lucas interjected. "Mallet probably knows already." "Three weeks," Dan continued. "Three and I won't tell her." The elevator drifted to a stop, mechanical brakes locking it firmly in place. The moment the elevator doors slid open I was greeted by a thunderous howl. "Jackson Quinn, get the hell in here!" "Something wicked this way comes," Dan hissed. "See you after General Mallet decides how to tan your hide," Lucas chuckled. "The deal is off!" I insisted. "No deal!" Two pairs of rough hands pushed me out of the elevator and the doors sealed behind me. The Stonewood twi
Games of Invictus Chapter 38 (YEAR 2052)
"Wait," Lucas grinned, "exactly how many demotions did you get?" My face burned as I plopped down on my cot with a huff. The metal bed frame groaned in protest, echoing my sigh. Lucas grinned and took a seat in the bunk opposite mine. I leaned backwards into my pillow and let out another deep sigh. "Let's just say I won't have clearance to the bridge for a while," I replied. "It's still better than being discharged, so I suppose there's that." Despite being so large, sleeping arrangements on the Firmament were tight. The bunks occupied a single floor at the very top of the tower, as close to the dome as possible. In a large, near-windowless structure such as this sunlight was a commodity-keeping us close to the sky kept morals up. If anything, the provided pyjamas were comfortable-two-piece, grey linen sleepwear that was warmer than it looked. Rooms of two double bunks were standard unless you were ranked as a commanding officer or higher. Lucas and I had been assigned together be
Games of Invictus Chapter 39 (YEAR 2052)
"Alright, listen up pilots!" Mallet was in her element, standing at the front of the crowded briefing room. To call it a briefing room was generous. The open-air auditorium was, in fact, merely a ramshackle collection of chairs and tables pulled together in the corner of one of the dropship landing platforms. My seat was close to the platform's railing. I could see the Firmament's uppermost dome high above and could almost make out the bulky shape of the reactor core far below. The morning was muggy and smelled of ocean salt and oil. Sixteen dropships of various sizes occupied the space directly behind us. Crews bustled about the space, loading mechs and making final preparations. The mechanical din was only overwhelmed by the din of thirty mech pilots chattering nervously. "Grayson, shut up," Mallet snapped. A specific, loud voice quickly stopped talking and the rest of the room soon followed suit. General Marissa Mallet swung her hawk-like gaze to the front of the platform, w
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