Prologue

Writer's Note:
This story is set in the Armored Core universe, but really only in name. Certain things will follow the lore of the games, and some won't. It's my god given right to make the mechs hornier and cooler and I intend to use that right

“Ah, Handler Fulcrum. To what do I owe the pleasure?” The man on the CommsLink sounded snide, as though he was talking down to Fulcrum from the point if his nose. She didn't care, it's how most brokers behaved when they weren't…. indulging themselves, and she was here to talk business.

“Eddy. I need some fresh meat.” she replied, stone cold.

“And here I was thinking you'd just called to chat! What happened, doll? I've been hearing those ops on Vorsten 2 went sour rather spectacularly…” Eddy teased. Being a broker meant you knew people, and not everyone was quite as tight lipped as Fulcrum. Not that they needed to be.

The Hounds Eddy offered were versatile. Each one was a human who had undergone augmentation surgery for one reason or another. Most were ex corporate soldiers gone mercenary, either because they couldn't afford the augmentation reversion surgeries or they just loved what they did. Some were just desperate people looking to pay off their debts, although this wasn't the norm since their lack of proper pilot training made them undesirable, budget options.

“Not important. What do you have?” Fulcrum asked. Eddy wasn't wrong, contracts had been rough lately and she had lost three hounds in the last three weeks. Merc work wouldn't pay so well if it was safe and reliable.

“Ugh, fine. You're no fun.”

The terminal in front of Fulcrum lit up, displaying a spreadsheet of available assets. Each Hound was thoroughly documented, from their experience to their blood type. The important information, such as age and augmentation generation, were displayed prominently next to each pilot. But the most important number of all was nowhere to be found; cost.

“Tell me about them. Who's fresh on the menu?” Fulcrum droned monotonously, not revealing anything the broker could use to hike up his already exorbitant prices.

“I've got quite a few choice picks that are fresh out of their surgeries, and a few seasoned veterans. Depending, of course….” Eddy audibly licks his lips before finishing his sentence. “Your budget.”

Fulcrum rolled her eyes. Because of how lucrative their work was, brokers tended to be hedonistic bastards, and unapologetic ones at that. Eddy was a particularly perverted broker, but Fulcrum didn't mind that. He had a knack for finding gold amongst the dirt, and hadn't disappointed yet.

“Twenty million credits.” Fulcrum barked.

“Only twenty??? Sheesh Fulcrum, fallen on hard times have we? I don't think I can lend a hand for such a measly amount of-” Eddy was cut off by Fulcrum mid sentence.

“Twenty five million credits. I don't have time for games, Eddy.” Fulcrum's tone had shifted from a calm, monotonous tune to a commanding and obviously irritated intonation.

“Alright, alright. Here, sending you what I can do.” Eddy sighed, finally losing the brazenly teasing attitude. “None of them are exactly cream of the crop by my usual standards, but even on a budget these dogs have some potential if you ask me.”

Fulcrum's terminal updated, reducing the list down to six potential assets to choose from. She noted two of the six were using first generation augmentation. Surprising, since not only had there been leaps and bounds in the improvements provided since the first generation was launched, but because over 95% of volunteers for the first generation augmentations died on the table.

The big difference was how invasive the procedure was. First generation augmentation was effectively a full remodel from the ground up, leaving only your brain and a few other vital pieces untouched. Whereas with the latest generation, 6th gen, It was more akin to building atop what was already there. Still a risky procedure, requiring hours of surgery unable to be performed while the patient is under any form of anesthesia or painkiller due to the risk of miscalibrating the augments themselves.

Fulcrum looked through the remaining four. One was a veteran pilot for Balam Industries for several years before “retiring” his CO. Disobedience wouldn't do, Fulcrum thought to herself.

“And here I thought you valued ruthlesness, Fulcrum~” Eddy purred, upon seeing Fulcrum delete the pilot from her active selection.

“Watch your tongue, pig. Or I'll pull it out of that thick skull of yours myself.” Fulcrum snapped back at Eddy, thinking it would shut him up. Her hopes were dashed however when she heard Eddy stifling either moans or giggles. Deciding not to figure out which it was, Fulcrum returned her attention to the terminal, with three pilots remaining.

All three were debtors. As a result their identity was kept a secret. Not for their saftey or privacy, but because the right to their very name was sold to minimize their debt. Pure desperation to escape the fate awaiting them makes debtors desperate.

And loyal.

Fulcrum selected the first of the three, Augmented Human C3.329, a third gen. Performance scores looked good, compatability factor of 73% with neural interfaces though. Relatively low among augmented humans, and could cause some problems with tracking systems, Fulcrum thought to herself. The Handler sighed and moved on to the next pilot in the list, C2.334. 88% compatibility, so much better than C3.329, second generation augmentations. Definitely a contender for what Fulcrum needed.

“Before you view the file of C4.364, a word of warning.” Eddy said suddenly, a dark tone entering the fringes of his voice. “I know nothing about her. All of my other dogs, I know at the very least when they received their augmentations and where. With her, nothing. When she arrived, I didn’t get a manifest. Just a box and the asset in a barely functional stasis pod.”

Fulcrum didn’t respond. A pilot with unknown origins sometimes happened, but clearly there was something Eddy wasn’t telling her. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to know.

Fulcrum opened C4.364’s file, and was immediately intrigued. Fourth generation augmentations, a compatibility factor of 99%, though with average performance scores. Seeing a compatibility factor above 95% was incredibly rare, and usually required sixth generation augmentation to even get close to achieving. Fulcrum sat on the information page for a moment before Eddy spoke once more.

“She did come with a note, in place of a manifest. ‘Obedient Hound. One of my best. Use wisely’. It was signed from Handler Walter over on Jupiter, if you know the name. He’s got an eye for talent, but it’s rare he gives them up.”

Fulcrum was taken aback by the name Walter. He was a well known name around Jupiter's moons for years, and she wondered why he would just give up an asset like C4.364 if she was truly up to snuff. Fulcrum pondered for a moment, considering her options before speaking once more.

“Twenty million for C4.364. You’ll get the last five million after they prove themselves.”

Eddy smiled. “Deal. She’ll be at your operations center in a day.”