Defeating the Test Nexus
From what I'd observed so far, if the Fallen Angel had one standout advantage, it was undoubtedly its output. The power was incomparable to any conventional generator, letting it move like a lightweight unit despite all that mass. And even then, there was so much surplus that it could handle finer applications like recoil suppression.
But does it only have advantages?
The Fallen Angel and I circled the Aleph sector like hawks, locked in a grinding dogfight. I'd repeat the pattern of letting it close in, then reverse-thrusting to dive in at the last second. By now, though, the enemy had caught on.
-[Even a monkey would figure it out eventually.]
So I mixed in fakes—pulling back steadily instead of the reverse burst. No point if it didn't create distance. Thanks to that, whenever it got too close, it'd hesitate, calculating if I'd dive. I'd exploit the gap to trade blows.
Tang, tang!! Sparks erupted across the frame, shaking the cockpit. The liquids in my drug packs sloshed wildly.
-[Ah, if only we could fight properly—you and me, both at full strength. But damn circumstances won't allow it, huh?]
"……."
-[Not gonna respond? Feels like I'm talking to myself. Kinda lonely.]
Whatever. The heavy voice droned on over the comm channel.
We were slinging lethal rounds to kill each other, yet it almost felt... comfortable.
-[From the build and moves, you don't seem corporate. Freelance merc, right? The kind that scavenges scraps from company gigs.]
There was mockery in "scavengers," sure... but no real malice in his tone.
-[Living off scraps must be rough. Can't pick your jobs, shithole living, no backup. Sticking your neck out daily just to eat. Not exactly a dream career.]
He said it like he was bragging.
-[Now us? Corporate pilots get steady pay, family support, housing and meals covered. Fewer deployments than you mercs, too. Way more stable.]
Was he seriously bragging about his job being better? If it was meant to psych me out, it fell flat...
-[But what's the point?]
Nah, didn't seem like it.
-[You might think I'm contradicting myself after all that trash talk, but sometimes I envied you lot. We're leashed tight now—can't even imagine life off the chain. Wonder what it's like to just... do what you want?]
His voice turned dreamy, distant.
-[We get shelter and food for the leash, but that means dancing to the owner's tune. You pick your fights, your way, your spot. I've forgotten how to move on my own terms. Maybe I wanted this...]
"……."
-[Yeah, maybe I was scared of real freedom. Makes it all my fault, y'know? Looking for someone else to blame deep down...]
"……."
-[...Silent to the end, huh. Well, my bad for rambling to a stranger. Forget it.]
Fighting him head-on, his silhouette kept stirring memories. The Watchdogs from the Hive convoy escort. The three recon drones from the old reinforcement human lab.
Sure, they broke the sound barrier—this thing didn't—but a hypothesis nagged: what if it's because this one's piloted?
The core tech's the same.
Pure speculation since Watchdog origins were a black hole. But seeing and feeling it firsthand made the connection natural.
Hmm...
Biggest visible difference from the Watchdogs or recon trio? Armament. No heavy firepower like this Fallen Angel packed.
High-output weapons strain the systems hard.
Pilot vs. drone divide. Maybe the AI couldn't handle the load.
If that's true... then...
I pictured it scrapping a Watchdog. Unlike my struggles, it'd be a fair match. Speed gap, sure, but not uncatchable. Once in weapons range, that firepower...
Purpose-built Watchdog killer? Wouldn't be surprised.
The Fallen Angel felt specialized for shredding unidentified weapons like that. I spun wild theories mid-fight.
-[Hah, this... fucking... Nexus...! My head's splitting...!!]
His breathing roughened over comms. I vaguely recalled his one-sided chatter. Corporate stability, yet envying mercs.
For some reason, I broke my silence—first time addressing an enemy in a Nexus.
"...Name?"
-[You... a kid?!]
I ignored the bullshit. He ranted in shock, but I stayed mute, pressing the attack.
His hesitation opened the gap—I charged. A brutal, millisecond frenzy of fire and blasts.
-[Nngh...]
He groaned, pulling back first. He seemed like he wanted to say more, voice straining, hesitating... then sighed in resignation.
-[Mastema. That's my callsign.]
"Mastema. Got it."
-[Gonna remember my name? Acting like you've already won. Cocky for a no-name...]
We'd dragged this out long enough. Time to end it. I'd landed a solid hit in his pause—durability teetering on both sides. Ten seconds of full barrage, and boom.
Ammo's running low too.
His mobility burned through rounds fast. Next clash decides it.
Mastema tossed out wearily.
-[You probably guessed, but this Nexus is trash. Unpiloted. Drains life like a vampire. Even if I survive this, aftereffects'll kill me. Best case. Probably dead anyway.]
"Why fight that hard?"
-[Dunno. Why'd I go all out? Damn... head hurts...]
No room to chat. I lined up the sniper cannon.
-[Ah, right. This was a detour. Prioritizing my fun over quick, efficient wipeout.]
Detour, huh.
-[Didn't enjoy it much, though. You showed up half-crippled, arms tied. How about you—was fighting me fun?]
"Fun... dunno."
-[Then it meant nothing. Perfect. My life's last fight ends pointless.]
Flames licked our boosters. The paused battle reignited, bodies sliding closer.
He closed in. I—
Shiiik—
Did the same. He faltered, torn between advance or retreat.
Slight hesitation, then commit to closing. No shots fired—just two frames converging.
-[Don't ask personal shit by unspoken rule, but... why pilot a Nexus?]
"It's my only meaning."
-[Boring as hell. That ain't a reason. Not a dream, not fuel for a lifetime.]
"Why need lifetime fuel?"
-[Humans are fragile. Think you're different?]
Thud. Just before impact, I jettisoned my near-empty rifles.
He had to be shocked but took it without flinching.
-[Nexus as meaning... Not normal thinking—especially for a girl your age. As a senior: that's not meaning. Resignation.]
"Resignation?"
-[You're like me—scared of the future, gave up on it.]
Kaboom!! My Nexus fist slammed home. He countered point-blank with guns.
Drdrdrk—My armor shredded. His boosters fired nonstop, bracing against Nexus-style strikes.
Fists did less raw damage than guns, but drive train shock was mine. His frame glitched first.
He had triple my durability, but a busted drive changed everything. I aimed back-mounted weapons for the finisher.
-[...We're the same. Difference? You're outside this leash. At least you've got freedom.]
Muzzles glowed. He reached out.
-[Makes me jealous. Wanna be next batter?]
"Next batter?"
-[This Nexus. Take my spot, get drained dry. Revenge, say.]
A faint laugh amid the blasts.
-[Kidding... But if I'm handing it over, use the callsign Mastema. Would suit you.]
Perfect angle. Unblockable energy. Sniper slug chewed through armor, deep into the frame.
-[Giving you a shot. I never got one, but you could pilot this and...]
Vrrr—
The generator lost control, rampaging. Flash! The Fallen Angel pulsed familiarly, swallowed in blue flames.