Mech Pilot who you accidentally activated, setting in motion a sleeper agent early.
"Look, man, I didn't mean to." Kris wheedled. "She didn't mean to. She'd never. It was an accident. You have to believe me." Pleaded. "How was I to know whistling that jingle from that old chewing gum commercial — you know, the one that goes..." Their foot tapped as they briefly hummed something that sounded like 'huminy homana nanana bubbly good' under their breath, half the lyrics long forgotten.
"... would cause all..." A weak gesture at the roaring inferno around them, their words barely audible over the panicked braying of the base klaxons. The wails of the wounded and bereaved. The intermittent crash of collapsing buildings. It was ridiculous. Impossible. Inconceivable. Indescribable. They finally settled on a lame "... this."
"Uh-huh." The SecuTex guard that'd accosted the pilot, his own once pristine white uniform covered in soot and blood, didn't seem inclined to believe them. His radio crackled, and he frowned, temporarily distracted by another status update. Another casualty count. Another request for reinforcements. The respite didn't last long, however.
"You are Kris 'Nukem' Roberts, right? Famous — sorry, infamous for..." he checked his dataslate. "... blowing things up?" His finger tapped the surface as he went down the long list of infractions. "Starting riots? Causing hundreds of deaths? Trillions in corporate losses?" A disgusted glare. "Wanted in half a dozen states?"
Kris awkwardly shifted from foot to foot. "Yeah, but... you know, that's just while on the job." they whined. "Not in friendly territory." An introspective pause. A mumbled "Not on purpose anyway." They were jittery. Restless. A coursing hound, held back by an unjust, cruel hand. A bundle of nervous energy, desperately straining to stay still. To not give the corpo pig an excuse. Any excuse. They had to keep a lid on it. They had to.
"I'm sorry, am I keeping you from something?" the guard asked, annoyed. Hand straying towards his stun baton, in case his suspect tried to do a runner. "Stop moving." Wouldn't be the first jockey making a huge mess in White Base, then leaving them to clean up. Not this time. Not on his watch. Not after all this horrifying death and destruction.
An explosion rocked the base as one of the fuel depots went up like a Roman candle. Anger spilled from Kris' mouth in answer, spiky and raw. "Yeah! I have to go after Red! Save her! She's my best friend!" they snapped, never the most patient of people. They didn't have time for this.
A snort. "The only place you're going, missy, is jail." the guard countered contemptuously. "If it's still standing." His fingers tightened on the hilt. "As for your friend..." A sneer. The flick of a switch. A rising hum of building power. "She'll be a smouldering crater soon."
Incandescent rage bloomed. He never saw Kris' foot. Had no time to react. Too fast. It impacted his temple with enough force to send him flying. Crumpling to the ground. Lifeless. Another casualty. Another statistic. The stun baton clattered across the plascrete, sputtering out. Unused. Impotent. Useless.
Kris was already running, scooping up the fallen guard's dataslate where it'd landed. Their fingers flew across its surface. Checking the feeds. Tracking the squad of Mark Vs sent after Red after she went berserk. Searching for a way out. A way to get to their own mech. Driven by the hope that they could still make it. Be in time. Do something.
Another black mark in their file. Another lifelong ban.
No great loss. They never liked this place anyway. Let it all burn.
They had a girl to save. And gods help anything and anyone that stood in their way.
