Mech Online: Echoes of Steel 1 (Litrpg)

Chapter 5: Iron Savior

"Jack! Jack, you gotta hear this!" The voice crackled through the communicator with a note of urgency that snagged Jack Cooper's attention like a hook. He thumbed the switch on his wrist panel, eyes narrowing in focus.
"Talk to me," he replied, already slipping into the mindset of duty and action that had become his second skin since strapping into the AI-powered mech suit for the first time.
"Survivors. A dozen, maybe more, holed up in the old financial district tower," gasped the breathless voice of Marty, the resistance's unofficial scout with an uncanny knack for being where trouble brewed. "They're broadcasting a distress signal. Xilions are swarming that area like ants at a picnic."
"Coordinates?" Jack was already moving, his lean frame nimbly navigating the rubble-strewn alley as he reached for the beacon device strapped to his hip.
"Sending now. But hurry, man. They sounded pretty freaked out over there."
"Got it." Jack's fingers danced across the holographic display that sprang to life above the beacon. The map zoomed in on the location, a mere three blocks away, flashing red with the urgency of a beating heart.
No time to waste. Without missing a beat, Jack punched a sequence of commands into the control pad on his forearm. His mech suit, a hulking behemoth of metal and wires affectionately dubbed 'The Juggernaut' by the other resistance members, unfurled from its compact storage mode with a symphony of whirs and clicks.
"Let's rock-and-roll, Juggie," Jack muttered, a wry smile tugging at his lips despite the gravity of the mission. In a single fluid motion, he leapt into the pilot seat nestled within the suit's chest cavity. The hatch sealed shut with a reassuring hiss, encasing him in a cocoon of technology and power.
Adrenaline surged through his veins, a welcome jolt that set his heart racing even as the familiar hum of the mech's systems syncing with his neural impulses soothed his mind. The HUD flared to life before his eyes, overlaying the broken cityscape with tactical data and a highlighted path to his destination.
"It's showtime," Jack declared, a touch of bravado coloring his words as he engaged the thrusters. The Juggernaut lurched forward, propelled by a burst of controlled force that sent cracked pavement scattering in its wake.
Buildings blurred past as Jack navigated the urban labyrinth, each step of the mech an earth-shaking testament to humanity's resilience. He swerved around obstacles with practiced ease, the suit responding to his every command as if it were an extension of his own body.
"Come on, folks," he breathed, the playful edge in his voice belying the steely resolve that drove him onward. "Hold on just a little longer. The cavalry's coming, and he's got one hell of a bad-ass gun."
The horizon, a jagged line of broken edifices under a gunmetal sky, loomed uncertainly as Jack thundered toward his objective. The building in question, once an emblem of sleek modernity, now stood ravaged by the conflict. a hollow shell echoing with the distant, guttural cries of alien aggressors. A plume of concrete smoke mushroomed into the air, signaling recent destruction or perhaps a struggle within.
"Looks like party central," Jack muttered to himself, the irony not lost on his situation. His mech suit, the Juggernaut, responded to the quip with a soft whir of servos, as if in on the joke.
Chaos reigned outside the besieged structure; debris littered the street like confetti in some perverse celebration of devastation. Twisted rebar jutted out from chunks of wall and pavement, forming treacherous terrain that would've been impassable for any ordinary man. But Jack cocooned within tons of mechanized might strode through the wreckage with the confidence of a titan wading through a stream.
"Okay, big guy, eyes open," he instructed his metallic companion, tapping into the innate bond that had formed between man and machine. The optics of the mech intensified, cutting through the billowing clouds of dust that attempted to shroud the world in obscurity.
As the Juggernaut's heavy steps brought them to the gaping maw that was once the building's entrance, the cacophony of alien shrieks crescendoed. Each screech was a needle to Jack's focus, threatening to fray the edges of his resolve. He tightened his grip on the controls, a silent promise to those awaiting rescue that he wouldn't falter.
"Let's find our dance partners," he said, voice steady despite the drumming of his heart against his ribs. With one last bracing breath, Jack urged the Juggernaut forward into the belly of the beast.
The interior was a chiaroscuro canvas, stark shadows thrown by the mech's floodlights against the swirling dust motes that danced like specters. The HUD superimposed thermal signatures onto the grim scenery, but finding life amidst the ruins was like seeking sparks in a snowstorm.
"Come on, come on... where are you?" Jack whispered, half to himself, half to the survivors he knew were clinging to life somewhere in the labyrinthine darkness.
He moved with caution, a symphony of mechanical precision and human instinct. Each step was a delicate balance between urgency and the need to not bring the rest of the structure crashing down. The Juggernaut's sensors worked overtime, sifting through layers of interference to detect the faintest heartbeat, the subtlest breath.
"Survivors are playing hard to get," Jack said to the silence, though the edge of anxiety in his laughter was unmistakable. He understood the stakes all too well: lives hung in the balance, and he was their only hope.
Jack pressed on, deeper into the dust-choked gloom, ready to carve a path to salvation with the hands of his steel-clad guardian.
The sudden shriek of the Xilions pierced the heavy silence, grating against Jack's nerves like a warning siren. They materialized from the shadows, grotesque carapaces glinting in the dim light, antennae twitching with malevolent intent.
"Hello assholes," Jack muttered, the familiar surge of adrenaline kicking his senses into overdrive. His fingers danced across the Juggernaut's controls, responding with the ease of a seasoned gamer hitting combo moves on a controller. The mech sprang to life, blasters rising like the fangs of a metallic cobra.
As the first wave of psychic energy slammed into him, Jack felt the Juggernaut shudder. The aliens' minds were potent weapons, but he had steel and firepower on his side. With a defiant roar, the mech's cannons unleashed a torrent of laser blasts, tearing through the haze and searing towards the Xilions. Bright explosions peppered the creatures.
The battle was a high-stakes dance, Jack weaving and leaping through debris as though gravity was a mere suggestion. Each move was calculated, his body and the mech moving in perfect unison, dodging psychic assaults that left trails of warped air in their wake.
"Come on, you oversized cockroaches, let's see what you've got!" Jack taunted, a wild grin plastered across his face despite the danger. Humor was his shield, a way to keep the fear at bay.
A Xilion lunged, limbs splayed out with deadly intent. Jack reacted with the poise of a matador, pivoting the Juggernaut just out of reach. The alien's assault met only empty air, and in that moment of overextension, Jack struck. A precise jab of the mech's arm sent a power fist crashing into the Xilion's thorax, the impact reverberating through the building's skeleton.
One by one, the Xilions came at him with their serpentine agility, but Jack was a blur of motion, a human tempest wrapped in iron. He was David standing tall in Goliath's armor, pitting flesh and blood against otherworldly might. Lasers zipped back and forth, carving glowing lines in the murk, painting a frenetic tableau of combat.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to pick on someone your own size?" he said, ducking another psychic blast that would have turned a lesser man to soup.
The Juggernaut's sensors screamed warnings, but Jack's instincts screamed louder. He sidestepped and spun, thrusters firing in short bursts, positioning himself for the next onslaught. When it came, he was ready, dispatching each Xilion with ruthless efficiency.
This wasn't just a fight; it was a statement. Jack Cooper, office worker turned mech jockey, was here to stay. And he'd be damned if he'd let these alien invaders stop him from saving lives today.
He surged forward, the Juggernaut's heavy steps thudding against the ravaged concrete. The building groaned around him, a wounded beast on its last legs. He eyed the crumbling infrastructure, his next hurdle in this labyrinth of despair.
"Alright, big guy," he muttered to the mech, "let's explore."
The floor ahead gave way with a deafening crack, but Jack was already in motion. Thrusters roared to life beneath his feet, propelling the Juggernaut across the yawning chasm. They landed with a ground-quaking impact on the other side, chunks of debris tumbling into the abyss below.
"Note to self, avoid the scenic route," he said, scanning the corridor ahead.
A door stood sealed, its security system blinking mockingly in the half-light. Jack's fingers danced over the control panel, coaxing out wires with deft movements. His hacking module, a sleek addition to the mech's arsenal, whirred as it interfaced with the alien tech.
"Come on, come on..." he urged, eyes locked on the stubborn red light.
With a satisfying beep, the light flipped green, and the door slid open with a reluctant groan. A victory smirk tugged at his lips. "Who's your daddy?" he teased, stepping through into the unknown.
The deeper he ventured, the more the muffled cries echoed around him, like ghosts begging for salvation. They spurred him on, weaving between the mesh of sounds: falling rubble, distant shrieks, and the constant hum of his own machinery.
"Almost there, folks. Keep the kettle on," Jack called out, though the words were lost in the din. He pictured the survivors, their faces drawn with fear and hope; it was a cocktail that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
His resolve hardened; these people needed a hero, and by some cosmic joke, he was it. Jack Cooper, once king of the water cooler, now a knight in shining armor. Or at least, armor that could use a good polish.
"Okay, Juggie," he said, patting the console affectionately, "let's find our damsel, or dudes, or whoever's in distress."
The cries grew louder, guiding him like a siren song through the wreckage. Each step was a promise, each breath a silent oath. He would reach them, no matter what stood in his way. Because that's what heroes do, even the unlikely ones with a penchant for sarcastic banter.
Jack's HUD lit up with red as he approached the source of the cries, a stark contrast to the dust-muted world around him. The door, a slab of steel that had somehow managed to survive the onslaught, barred his path. It was nothing a little Juggernaut-brand persuasion couldn't handle.
"Brace yourselves," Jack warned, his voice amplified by the mech's speakers. "It's about to get breezy in there."
With a surge of power from the suit, Jack's metal hands clamped onto the door's edges. Servos whined and muscles both human and mechanical strained, then with a screech of yielding metal, the barrier gave way. He tossed the door aside like a crumpled piece of paper, revealing a small room bathed in the faint glow of emergency lighting.
Inside, a cluster of survivors huddled together, eyes wide and reflecting the flicker of hope that had sparked at the sound of their would-be savior's voice. They were a motley crew, wearing expressions that spoke volumes of the horror they'd witnessed. Jack's heart lurched; this was not a time for jest.
"Easy there, I'm not an alien come to probe ya," Jack said, despite the gravity of the situation. Humor was his shield, his way of keeping the creeping dread at bay.
Stepping into the room, the machine around him felt suddenly too large, too intrusive. He retracted the mech's helmet to show his face, to offer them a human connection amidst the cold metal and jumped out of his mech toward the ground.
"Hey, I'm Jack. Jack Cooper," he introduced himself, the brown-haired, lean young man beneath the armor now visible. "You're safe now."
Relief washed over their faces as Jack moved among them, his gaze sharp and assessing. He knelt beside a woman with a bloodied leg, the sharp smell of iron hanging in the air. "Let's patch you up," he said, extracting the medkit nestled within the mech's compartment.
The compact device unfolded like a blossom, revealing an array of medical tools and supplies. Jack selected a biofoam applicator, applying it to the wound. The foam hissed, expanding and solidifying to staunch the bleeding.
"Good as new," he declared, though his eyes didn't quite meet hers. It was a small lie, a bit of bravado to lift their spirits. "Well, maybe not new, but you'll walk out of here."
"Thank you," she murmured, her hand gripping his for a moment, grounding him in the reality of what he was doing, saving lives.
"Alright, who's next?" Jack asked, moving on to a man cradling his arm. "Broken? Dislocated? Give me the headline."
"Dislocated, I think," the man replied through gritted teeth.
"Okay, on three," Jack said, but he lied again. On two, he popped the arm back into place, drawing a yelp that was quickly muffled by a chorus of chuckles from the others.
"Sorry, my counting's never been great. Office worker turned hero complex," he said, winking.
As he worked, offering comfort and care, he realized that each bandage applied, each dislocation corrected, was more than mere first aid; it was a stitch in the fabric of their shared humanity, a patch in the torn sky of their world.
"Stick with me, folks. We'll get out of this mess," Jack assured them, his voice steady, the humor now a soft undercurrent to the strength they needed. "One spreadsheet at a time."
The whine of energy weapons charging snapped Jack's attention. He instantly jumped back into his mech, his fingers dancing across the mech suit's controls. The survivors' eyes widened in terror as shadows converged at the shattered entrance.
"Look sharp!" Jack barked, a grin spreading across his face despite the odds. "Office hours are over, folks. Time for some overtime!"
With a flick of his wrist, the mech's blasters came to life, spitting deadly beams of coherent light that seared through the approaching horde of Xilions. Their screeches echoed off the walls, a discordant symphony to Jack's focused calm.
"Stay behind me! This is gonna get loud," he shouted over his shoulder, even as he rolled to the side, dodging a psychic blast that left a smoking crater where he'd just stood.
"Psychic powers, huh? Two can play at that game," he muttered, tapping into the mech's neural-interface. His thoughts became actions as the suit mirrored his intent with uncanny precision, weaving between attacks with the grace of a dancer and the force of a sledgehammer.
A Xilion lunged, its mind-blade shimmering with alien energies, but Jack met it head-on. The punch from his mech was a thunderclap, metal fist meeting chitinous exoskeleton with a crunch that reverberated through the room. The alien was sent reeling back into its comrades, creating a momentary respite in the onslaught.
"Who's next?" Jack said, almost enjoying the adrenaline that spilled through his veins like wildfire. He could hear the survivors cheering him on, their voices lending strength to his resolve.
"Come on! I've dealt with tougher things than you, ever tried troubleshooting a printer jammed with fifty pages of Excel spreadsheets?"
A pair of Xilions, thinking they had outflanked him, charged from his blind spot. Without missing a beat, Jack executed a pirouette that would've made a ballerina green with envy, his mech's blasters turning them into cosmic ash.
"Spreadsheet that, you ugly bugs!"
Jack's display was more than combat; it was a performance, each move punctuated by a one-liner, each strategy imbued with the cheeky defiance of a man who refused to bow down to any invader, terrestrial or otherwise.
"Hey, anyone keeping score? I think I'm setting a new personal best here!"
The last of the Xilions hesitated, sensing the ferocity of the human encased in steel and circuits. In that hesitation lay its doom; Jack leapt, a metal goliath fueled by human spirit, and brought down the full might of his mech's arsenal.
The building shook with the force of his assault, plaster raining down like confetti in a parade of destruction. And when the dust settled, Jack stood alone amidst the wreckage of alien bodies, his chest heaving, a victorious gladiator in a coliseum of ruin.
"Is everyone okay?" he asked, turning back to the survivors, his voice softening from the battle-hardened warrior to the compassionate protector once more.
They nodded, their faces a mixture of shock and admiration. One woman stepped forward, her eyes brimming with tears of relief.
"You... you're amazing," she stammered, speaking for all of them.
"Ah, just part of the service package when you sign up with Jack Cooper's Mech Rescue Squad," he said, though fatigue tugged at the edges of his smile. "Now, let's get you all out of here before they decide to send reinforcements."
With a quick scan for any lurking dangers, Jack ushered the survivors toward the relative safety of the outside world, his heart swelling with the knowledge that today, at least, he'd been their hero.
Jack pivoted on a hydraulic heel, his mech's sensors pinging the all-clear. "Okay, everyone, single file behind me," he barked, the voice amplifier in his suit turning his words into commands that cut through the lingering fear.
"Thank you," a man murmured, grasping Jack's mechanized hand with a grip that spoke volumes of his gratitude.
"Save it for after we're out," Jack replied, but the tilt of his helmet indicated a smile they couldn't see.
The survivors shuffled behind him, their footsteps echoing in the hollowed-out husk of the building. As they moved, small talk bubbled up amidst the group, their voices woven with threads of awe and whispers of the "mech warrior" leading them to safety.
"Did you see how he just..."
"Like something out of an old superhero vid!"
"Those Xilions didn't stand a chance!"
Jack's HUD flashed a route to the exit, marking potential hazards with red triangles. He sidestepped a crumbling pillar here, ducked under a sagging beam there, all the while keeping a protective eye on his charges.
"Watch your step," he called back, humor threaded through the warning as they navigated a particularly treacherous pile of debris.
"Like a walk in the park," retorted a survivor, her voice shaking less now.
"Only if the park is full of alien invaders and falling buildings," Jack said.
They reached the threshold of the building, daylight spilling over them like a benediction. The survivors blinked against the brightness, their relief palpable.
"Never thought I'd be so happy to see the sun," one chuckled, stepping into the open.
"Freedom courtesy of Jack Cooper," another added, raising an arm in salute.
"Let's not start a fan club yet," Jack deadpanned, even as warmth filled his chest at their words.
Outside, Jack's fellow resistance fighters were a lineup of anxious anticipation. They broke into cheers as the survivors emerged, clapping each other on the back and whooping with joy.
"Jack! You did it!" one fighter yelled, rushing forward to thump his mech's metallic leg.
"Was there any doubt?" Jack said, allowing a note of pride to seep into his tone. His mech's cockpit hissed open, and he clambered down to meet them on equal footing.
"None from us, but you've got to admit, that was some crazy stunt," another fighter remarked, grinning from ear to ear.
"Guess my rep's only going to get bigger after this," Jack mused, his eyes twinkling as he rubbed the stubble on his chin.
"Jack Cooper: Mech Pilot Extraordinaire and Savior of the Helpless," someone suggested, and the group erupted into laughter.
"Easy there," Jack chided playfully. "I'll leave the titles for the storybooks."
The survivors joined the resistance members, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and elation. They took turns shaking Jack's hand, their thanks weaving a tapestry of genuine respect.

"You're one helluva pilot, Jack," a seasoned fighter said, clapping him on the shoulder. "But more importantly, you've got heart. That's what keeps this resistance alive."
"Thanks," Jack replied, feeling the weight of his responsibility and the thrill of living up to it. "Now, let's get these people somewhere safe."
As they all moved off together, laughter and light-hearted banter trailing behind them, Jack knew that today's victory was more than just about survival; it was about hope. And in this shattered world, hope was the mightiest weapon of all.
Jack's HUD flickered as the mission status updated with a triumphant ping that resonated through his mech's cockpit. The words "Rescue Mission: Completed" shone in neon blue against the gritty backdrop of the ruined city, and a cascade of virtual confetti burst across his vision.
"Talk about fanfare," Jack chuckled to himself, swiping away the digital display with a gloved hand.
A series of notifications rolled in, each accompanied by its own distinct chime. Experience points racked up like a jackpot on a slot machine, the numbers spinning upward until they settled, leaving Jack with a satisfying sense of progression. His character portrait, once just a haggard office worker, now glimmered with the seasoned edge of a mech pilot who'd seen his fair share of combat.
"Level up, baby!" Jack exclaimed, throwing a mock punch into the air. The survivors watched, amusement dancing in their eyes at his unabashed enthusiasm.
"Looks like the loot gods smile upon you today, Jack," one of the resistance fighters teased, motioning toward a crate marked with the emblem of their ragtag group.
"Better than birthday presents," Jack said, approaching the crate. With a swift movement, he flipped the lid open and whistled low at the gleaming array of equipment inside. New armaments for his mech, a plasma coil here, a nano-fabricated armor plate there each piece promised more power, more protection. He picked up a sleek rifle attachment, feeling its balance. "This'll do wonders during the next dance-off with the Xilions."
"Careful, don't get too flashy or they might just ask for your autograph," another member jested, joining the light-hearted ribbing.
"Only if they sign my cast after I break their legs," Jack shot back, his grin spreading wide under the visor of his helmet.
The survivors approached him, their faces lined with gratitude that went deeper than words. One by one, they reached out, touching the cold metal of his mech suit with warmth in their eyes.
"Thank you, Jack Cooper," a woman said. Her voice was soft but carried the strength of untold resilience. "You didn't just save our lives; you saved our spirits."
"Hey, no biggie," Jack replied, the humor in his tone giving way to sincerity. "Just doing what needs to be done. You'd have done the same for me."
"Perhaps, but not all would rush into danger so readily," a man added. "Your courage gives us hope."
"Hope's the name of the game," Jack said, nodding solemnly. He looked around at the crumbled buildings, the ash-filled skies, and the faces of those who fought for a better tomorrow. "And we're going to win it, one mission at a time."
As the group made their way back to base, Jack couldn't help but feel the weight of the world on his shoulders lighten just a little. Each step taken, each laugh shared, each new friend made, it all added up to something bigger than himself, something worth fighting for.
"Time to plan for the next quest," Jack mused, the excitement for future battles simmering within him. "But first, maybe a quick upgrade montage is in order."
"Montage?" a younger survivor asked, puzzled.
"Never mind," Jack said with a wink, striding ahead. "Just some hero talk."