#protomech

The IlClan Era successor to the Delphyne as designed by me, this motherfuckess is a real nasty piece of work.

As with all protomechs, it operates via the strategy of ‘*Teleports behind you* nothin’ personnel kid’ with way more damage than is probably appropriate for something of its weight.

Old Regret ProtoMech Annex, Zamardi, a mere 30 minute walk from the facility she had spend all of her life previously.

The squat, plain building looms before her, the administrative facility and welcome center of the ProtoMech Pilot program.

She's 20, she should be with thw rest of her sibko, hanging out and waiting for their assignments to arrive. Instead, she h a d failed at the last moment in her Trial of Position, and failed to secure even a single kill.

Instead, here she is faced with yet more training.

She pushes the door aside, and finds herself met by a barrsn lobby, a single aged laborer sitting behind a desk.

"W- Colt Analise, I have an appointment."

The old man stares over the thin rims of his glasses at her, before glancing down at his desk. "Oh, yes, room 13, down the hall on the left. They're waiting for you."

Analise nods thanks to the civillian, and walks down the hall until she finds the door labelled 13.

She checks her chronometer, adjusts her cadet tunic, and steps inside.

She's met by an equally short warrior in an odd skintight ridged suit, with a sleevelsess jacket over it, and a scientist who towers over both of them. Both of them stand in front of a roughly sphericle pod cluttered in structural frame, wire, and computer boxes.

The Wrangler steps forward when Analise enters. "Colt Analise, you are capable of punctuality, good. I am Wrangler Hald, this is Scientist Thil, amd this, is our Interfacr Training Pod."

Analise looks over the pod, and realizes that indeed, she must be looking at a ProtoMech cockpit pod, excised from the rest of the body, and plugged into the training facility power grid instead of a fusion reactor.

"This is the first stage of ProtoMech training, we test you for Integration potential. If you pass, you will recieve your implants." At this, he stretches out one arm, revealing the red circut patterns covering his skin. "This is the first, and most crucial test before you. If you fail, you will be tested out, either into the civillian castes, or maybe they have a helicopter waiting for you."

Analise grits her teeth at the veiled insult, and steps forward. Clan Hell's Horse may value vehicles, but Analise was born to rule the sky, not hide in fear at the merest implication of an enemy fighter.

"I will take the test."

"Excellent, you will need this." Hald tosses her a sheet of smooth fabric, that seems to flow like fine mail.

Analise inspects it for a moment, and notices the fine copper patterns along the inside, not unlike the sensor pad of a neurohelmet.

She strips off her shorts first, and then her loose, and when the Wrangler directs her to further, her undegarments go too.

It takes her a moment to figure out where the suit opens, but when she gets into it, it instantly fits to her, contracting into ridges, apart from some smooth areas of padding in the groin, knees, and chest, just like the trainer's suit.

The pod opens, and she steps forward, and climbs in. Hald points her to a miniature neurohelmet inside, and when she puts it on, the pod immediately shifts to hold her body in a comfortable position. Outside, the scientist taps away at a contol panel, and the hatch closes in on her.

There’s an electric jolt in her scalp, and accross her whole skin, and the world jumps outward with a stab of pain beyween her eyes. The systems of the pod becomes her body, and she falls even deeper, connecting into the sensors apparently integrated intonits outsiedw, and then throughout the base, and then into the city's netork. Each layer brings greater pain, and she's reaching for the planetary network, when it all shuts off, and there’s a feelingnlike every inch of her body had been seperated at once. She screams, and almost blacks out as the hatch opens.

She's helped out, and feels fear. The pain surely means she failed, she couldn't Integrate smoothly. But Wrangler holt smiles grimly at her, like his next words are announcing her death. Maybe she failed so bad she hurt her brain somehow, and the only way forward is euthanasia. At least she wouldn't be a burden.

"Congratulations, Colt Analise, you passed the Integration test with flying colors. With results like these, I have no doubt you will make a fine Proto Pilot. Let us get your onboarding finalized and schedule your surgery. "

The news hits Analise slowly, the euphoria of Integration fading slowly.

Gliders sacrificing one of the ProtoMech’s main gimmicks of having misses on the hit location table, LAMs are an established part of the setting, and all of the glider protos have legs anyway!

I think glider proots should use LAM rules, without Aerospace movement in flight mode.

I want to fucking yeet robot dragons from high-altitude in through people’s windows and into buildings full of poor, squishy, infantry. I want to watch elementals quake in their heavy-armored boots as their transport goes face to face with their natural predator. I want to dump a light mech’s alpha strike into some poor bastard’s rear armor on turn 2.