Armored Core 6: Cold Ghost

4. ACADEMY CANDIDATES

"Atten-tion!"

The voice boomed in a full militaristic authority around the testing grounds. All 24 AC pilots heard it regardless of their positions in the expansive landscape. Every group of 3 ACs had a distinct paint on their left arm, and each AC was typically distinct of each other according to the pilots' design choices and preferences.

"I won't waste time with inspirational talks. Only the Last Team standing, regardless of the remaining ACs, will win this round. You have one target: The Fort highlighted on your display.

You all chose your ACs, you all chose your partners, and you chose your starting points. There are no rules in this game. So, no excuses. Move out!"

It was a simple set up: a Free For All arena, with the many biomes crammed into a single battle field. From forested areas, barren wastelands, to mountains to use for cover. While the Fort might be the primary target, the actual goal of the test is to outlast every other team. Yet a handful of teams decided to start relatively close to the Fort in hopes to either take the lead early, or rush into the melee and take out as many ACs as they could. One group that clearly fit the bill was the group of tank-legged ACs carrying serious firepower. They might be asking to be jumped on early in the game but there's no doubt that whoever ends up within their zone isn't coming out unscathed.

Hessa ran through all the AC's system diagnostics for the umpteenth time, unable to stop the stir in the pit of her stomach despite her self-pep talk while Major Diab was explaining the exercise over the speakers. Being her close and dear uncle did not make it any easier for mentally prepare for the upcoming fight, and neither would their shared name guarantee her pass. She tried vainly to take a deep calming breath, only for it to come out in stuttering exhales.

"DIAB IX, are you okay?" Her team's Operator, Gala Matar, asked her privately out of the team's communications frequency. Gala had been Hessa's closest friend since childhood, or as close as people from different families can be. Family names carry their own weight in her society, with the elite few standing atop everyone else, making the need to succeed this test even more stressful than it already is. In fact, it's not too far off the mark to say that this whole exercise is a chance to usher the winning clan to the forefront, and calling those who held those spots into question for not being able to retain their reputation of producing the finest heirs in whichever field they're in. The Diab Family were proud fighters, Warriors, mostly excelling in Military, Police and Security Forces. With the few exception work desk job, but non-the-less in higher positions of their field. Hessa was now at the point where all the family's eyes were on her, the point that makes or breaks a person. And she was not about to fail this one.

"I'm fine, Gala. Just feeling the pressure again."

"You'll get through this, I know it. You've gone through this so many times before and came out on top. This won't be any different."

A large rifle crossed Hessa's screen, her teammate's AC was pointing somewhere ahead a bit off from the Fort. Only just realizing her team comm. channel was muted. She quickly unmuted and grabbed hold of the controls to which the AC responded by flexing its arms slightly to ready position.

"-ust because we can take them out doesn't make it the smartest move." DIAB VI said. His AC had reverse jointed legs, equipped with a rifle and machinegun on its arms with a shotgun and pile bunker slung on the shoulders. Designed for constant harassment up till the pilot gets the opening to land a deadly blow with the pile bunker.

"Still sounds cowardly to hang back and pounce when they're all half dead." DIAB V replied sourly, swapping his plasma rifle with his Linear Rifle on the Left shoulder. The right side of the AC sported a missile launcher on the shoulder and laser handgun on the right arm. The AC was more well rounded on bipedal legs, designed to stay on the move while firing a variety of weapons. "I'd rather we tackle whatever team we run into on the way to the Fort."