After logging out, he placed the V.R. headset on its charger. Mark, then, goes to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Looking at the fridge, he realized they were going to need groceries. He decides to go buy some after eating his meal. His mind is set on having cheese omelets today. Grabbing the needed ingredients, he moves to the induction stove and starts cooking.
The menu for today's breakfast was cheese omelet, sauteed potatoes, and grilled ham slices. Mark also brews coffee. His mother, woken by the smell, came out of her room. Mark serves his mother a plate of food. The woman started to eat her meal.
"Mark, if you keep feeding me like this, I'm going to get fat," Rachel commented while looking at her plate.
The young man sits down to eat with his mother. "What are you doing today, Mom?"
Rachel looks at Mark with an uncertain look. "I still have not decided, so I'm going to work for the moment. One has to be responsible." The woman said between bites.
Rachel decides to change the topic of conversation. " This food is so good, Mark, which of your friends taught you to cook, the loud boy or the silent boy who is always wearing a jacket?"
Mark swallowed the food he was chewing. "Steve is the loud boy; he does not know how to cook. Alex is the silent one. I'm not sure about Alex's cooking skills." He stabs a piece of grilled ham and bites it.
" So what's your friend's name then?" Rachel pressed on with the interrogatory.
Mark decides to go with the half-truths again. "Well, I don't know much about the name, but I call her T.L."
Rachel's expression turns into surprise. "HER!?"
The alarm on Rachel's comm-pad starts to ring. But, in her surprised state, she is unable to hear it.
"Mom, your work alarm." Mark reminded his mother.
"Sorry, you are right, I'll go get dressed." The woman stood up from the table and went into her room.
The young man, for his part, finished eating and cleaned the table afterwards.
After breakfast, Mark took a bath and changed clothes. He was now wearing blue jeans, a red T-shirt, and the Grease Monkey denim jacket, which he was starting to like. Once he came out of his room, the young man noticed his mother had already gone out. Mark checked the cabinet where his mother had placed the T-32 mask; it was empty. Apparently, his mother had taken it.
A smile drew on his face. "I've seen to be getting through."
Mark exits the apartment with his trusty hover box floating beside him. Outside Miller Hills complex, the young man hails a sky-cab; he was headed to a supermarket close by.
After a smooth journey, Mark arrived at the supermarket. The usual bustle sound was present as he entered the building with his hover box following him. The young man moved aisle after aisle, picking the stuff they needed and placing it on the hover box.
His focus was interrupted by the sound of familiar voices. Two teens were sitting on a small table at a food court nearby, gossiping and surfing the comm-grid.
"Wait, Sandy, check this out, this is skinny Mark, right?" A brown haired teen commented to her friend, a blond girl with too much makeup.
Sandy looks at her friend's comm-pad. "Why is that loser on the news? Did he die?"
The brown haired teen reads the article. ..."No, he won the lottery, ...25 billion L-Credits, ...it says it's the highest paying jackpot ever. Huh, I guess you can not call him a loser anymore, Sandy."
Mark recognized the pair; they were his classmates from the institute. The blonde girl was Sandy, a girl with a beauty queen complex. The other one was Livia, people called her Sandy's minion.
They were both shallow and petty. In his past life. Sandy was the worst of the two; Livia always seemed to follow her. He remembered that the two girls broke off their friendship after Livia found that Sandy was dating her boyfriend. Mark decided to ignore the two; they were never important to him. However, he decides to check out the article.
Mark took out his comm-pad. He navigated the comm-grid searching for the article the two girls were discussing. After a few taps and swipes, he managed to find it. The first thing that greeted him was an old photo of him and his mom taken years prior. His mother looked as beautiful as ever, but Mark, however, was his old skinny self.
The article named him and his mother, but the rest of his information was not present. Even so, Mark decided to pay a fee to the Lishean Comm-Commission. He wanted to take his comm-pad contact out of the public registry. After another set of taps and swipes, this task was done.
Mark finished his shopping in haste. Taking enough groceries to last for about a week, He moves to the checkout counter. But while on the line to pay, someone tugged on his arm.
"Hey, I saw you looking at us at the food court. What's your name, handsome?" Mark turns to see Sandy, ...the blond girl is getting a bit too comfortable with his arm while giving him a flirty look.
He was bothered by this, but he kept his cool. Turning to the shallow girl, he saw her friend not far behind. "Me? I'm just a skinny loser. Besides, do you even have time for me? After all, you are fooling around with her boyfriend." The man replied, pointing at the brown haired girl.
It took Sandy a few moments to recognize the young man in front of her. "Skinny Mark?" the blond girl uttered in confusion.
Regaining her wits in record time, a forced proposition jumped from her lips. "I will let you be my boyfriend?"
Mark was a bit surprised by her callous frivolity. " I don't think you have time for a boyfriend right now," Mark responded with a sarcastic grin, while pointing at the girl behind her.
As Sandy turned to look, she saw Livia with an angry expression. Veins started to bulge on her forehead.
"What did he mean when he said you were dating my boyfriend!?"Her hands turned into knuckles, and she adopted a fighting stance.
"Wait, Livia, it's not what you think; we have just gone out as friends two or three times." The blond teen argued with a nervous look on her face. A one-sided cat fight started soon after.
The young man responsible silently slipped away in the confusion. Mark walked to the Checkout counter. As he paid for his groceries, the security personnel struggled to separate the teen girls fighting in the background.
With his hover box now full, Mark waited for a sky-cab outside the supermarket. Three guards came and tossed the brown haired girl by the sky-cab stop.
"That's it, ...I'm buying online next time." Mark thought to himself while looking at the disheveled girl.
Her hair was a mess, her knuckles were covered in makeup and a little blood. Her fingers had strands of blond hair. The girl, out of her state of anger, started to cry.
A feeling of guilt came over the young man. He reached into his hover box and grabbed a packet of paper napkins, tearing the packaging open, and he handed her a few. "Here, I'm sorry for what happened inside. I was just a bit angry by the comments in the food court. It was never my intention to hurt you."
Livia, after cleaning her hands, tossed the used napkins in a trash can. "It's not your fault. I have been noticing these changes in my boyfriend lately. I knew something was wrong, but I never suspected that harlot."
The sky-cab arrives, and Mark looks at Livia. "Can I take you home?" The girl nodded while wiping her tears with another napkin.
Half an hour later, Mark arrived at Miller Hills housing complex with an empty napkin packet. With a sigh, the young man tosses the empty wrapper into a trash can by the entry. He just wanted to get home and connect to A.M.S. and work on his project.
His mind went back to the sky-cab ride. Mark, trying to cheer Livia up, had mentioned his workshop. Now she wanted to use the shop to paint her mechs. "Well, that's Steve's problem now." Putting his hands together, he apologized to Steve in silence. While walking up the Elevator.
The young man arrives on his floor. There is a man knocking at the door to his mother's apartment. Standing around 5'9", the visitor was dressed in an old-style gray suit. In his left hand, a classic fedora hat of the same color. The crew cut on his brown hair gave a military vibe.
As he noticed Mark's approach, the man looked at him for a second. A smile drew on his face; it was a bit unsettling. The man fiddled with his tie before speaking, A gleaming gold ring showing on his right index finger.
"Good Morning, my name is Mr. Edward Hawk. Do you live in this complex?"
Mark knew this man. In his past life, this man contacted him after his mother's death. Her photo and the photo of all the people who died had been published along with the article about the accident. The man he is working for has been looking for Mark's mother for the past 19 years.
"Why is he early this time?" Mark thought to himself.
"Yes, this is my mother's apartment. How can I help you?" Mark stretches out his hand. Mr Hawk answers with his own hand.
"That is quite a grip you got there. Young man," The man said while stretching Mark's hand. "I'm looking for Rachel Cain."
Mark looks directly into the man's eyes. "You have the wrong address. My mom's name is Rachel, but our last name is Warren."
"Well, is your mother or father home?" Mr Hawk asked with pretension.
Mark caught up to this, but still answered with the truth. "It's just my mother and me, I never met my father, ...never needed to. My mom is not home at the moment; she is at work. What is this about?"
"My employer has asked me to find this woman." Mr Hawk takes his comm-pad out of his pocket and shows Mark an old photo of a beautiful blond woman. The woman was elegantly dressed and had an uncanny resemblance to his mother.
"The reason I'm here is because of this photo," the man used his thumb to swipe the comm-pad screen. The article from the lottery draw came to the screen. When Mark saw the article, he understood what had happened.
"My employer has no bad intentions towards this woman; he's simply reaching out." Mr Hawk said, trying to lower the teen's guard.
In Mark's past life, Mr Hawk had been hired by a man named Marcus Parker, who was Mark's father. Mark pondered his options. "What do I do in a situation like this?"
Mister Hawk, sensing Mark's reluctance, decided to approach the situation from another angle. "I understand your hesitation; after all, I'm a stranger." The man put his comm-pad inside the pocket of his suit and pulled out a small card.
"Give this to your mother, have her call me instead." The man puts on his hat. "It has been a pleasure to meet you, Mark." Mr. Hawk walked away. Mark took the chance to scan the man.
Name: Edward Hawk.
Species: Human (Level 4 species).
Attributes:
Strength: 6. Intelligence: 5.
Dexterity: 4. Wisdom: 7.
Vitality: 6. Presence: 4.
Skills: Unarmed combat 4, Ranged weapons 4, Search 5, Gather Info. 5, Sense Motive 4, Vehicle op 3.
Feats: Martial Arts, Military training, Improved Focus, Survivor, Combat reflexes.
Neuronal Capacity: C+.
Special Note: Unaltered Human.
Mark was surprised by the stats of the man. Even though his own stats were far superior, he had enhanced his attributes with the use of the system. Mr. Hawk was a baseline human. This means that the man trains his body constantly.
Mark entered the apartment. After storing away the groceries, the young man went to his room, and the empty hover box followed. Once he changed the clothes he was wearing for something more comfortable, he placed the V.R. Headset on his head. Lying down in bed, Mark started a new session of A.M.S.
Outside Miller Hills, Mr. Hawk was getting into his Sky-car. Once seated, he started the vehicle and, with a verbal command, set his destination. "Take me to my office."
The vehicle started moving automatically. The man took out his comm-pad. "Dial Mr. Parker." Without delay, the device complied.
The sound of a ring came out of the speakers of the vehicle. After the second ring, a woman answered the call. "Thank you for calling Parker Technologies. This is Mr. Parker's office. How can I help you?"
"Hello, miss, this is Mr. Hawk. May I talk to Mr. Parker? It's a matter of importance."
"Hold for a moment, please." The woman politely asked before a hold screen came into view.
A few moments later, the screen projects an office, and a man is sitting behind a desk. The man looked to be in his late thirties, had ash blond hair, and a well-groomed appearance. His eyes were brown with traces of a reddish hue. "Hello, Mr. Hawk, have you made progress in your investigation?"
"Yes, I have, I'm sending you a folder with all the information I have gathered. At the moment. She is living in an apartment complex outside of the city." Mr. Hawk paused for a second. "She has an 18 or 19-year-old son."
Mr Parker takes a deep breath. Preparing himself for the bad news. Calculating the age of the young man, a thought crosses his mind. "Wait, with that age, could he be my, ...my son?" The man asked in surprise.
Mr Hawk pressed his ring against the comm-pad. "I'm sending you a video of the young man." Mr Hawk looked pensive for a moment. "Mr. Parker, after seeing the boy, it's clear to me that you may have a filial relationship, but nothing is 100% certain."
As soon as the video was done loading, Mr. Parker watched it. "This young man is the spitting image of my father." A sudden silence came over him. "Did my father do something to Rachel?" Anger was visible on his face.
Mr Hawk, seeing this, tried to calm him down. "Mr Parker, do not jump to conclusions. We will not know what happened until you talk to the woman." His argument succeeded in calming Mr Parker's ire. "Also, I think you should know, Rachel named her son Mark." Mr Hawk said this to try to calm the man.
"In any case. My recommendation is to wait for her to approach; she might run again if she feels cornered."The man was hoping that his client would follow his recommendation.
Mr Parker, for his part, did the best he could to keep his mood in check. But it was clear that his emotions were getting away from him. "I understand, Mr Hawk. I will follow your suggestion." The call ended shortly after this.
Inside the A.M.S. simulation, Mark was on a design marathon once more. He had started the design for the arms and shoulders actuators of the machine. These were simpler than the hand actuators. Their configuration was based more on mechanical strength and load bearing, which gave Mark an easier time.
After two hours, Mark finished with a set of actuators. He decided to take a break and check on Steve. As he went into the hangar, Mark saw a machine in one of the mech docks being painted. Entering the repair shop's control room, he found Steve at the control terminal.
Another player waited behind him. The female avatar was looking at the mech being painted by the repair droids. The game ID above her head read, The Scarlet Lover. The player was using an anime girl skin, dressed in a red pilot suit with white accents. The well-endowed figure had long black hair and a cute waifu face.
"Hey Steve, how are things going over here?" The two of them looked up at the same time.
"The Marked Guardian, are you Mark?" Scarlet asked after reading the game ID on top of the Cat Butler.
"Yes, I am, ...and you are?"Mark answered with a puzzled look on his face.
Scarlet smiled and posed, which looked rehearsed. She revealed her name. "I'm Livia."
"Yeah, I remember you said you wanted to paint some mechs." Mark shifts his focus and looks at Steve. "How are you doing with the paint shop?"
Steve looks back at Mark with a smug smile. "This is the fourth mech of the shop."
Mark looks at Steve. "Have you taken any breaks?"
Steve responded without looking back at him. "Yes, Mom, I logged in and started working on Scarlet's mech."
Mark receives a message from Alex. "The store page has been finished, I will log in in a minute." The young man looks at Steve, who is quietly working at the terminal.
"Hey Steve, Alex is done with the store page. Let's go take a look."
Steve decided to activate the automated functions and go to the shop catalog with Mark. "Hell yeah! Let's go, Marksman." With her interest piqued, Scarlet decided to join them.
Once they climb the stairs, the sounds of the mech factory can be heard. While Steve and Mark entered the design lab, Scarlet went to take a look at the factory floor. She had never seen this being done. Her jaw dropped once she saw the factory floor. Five assembly lines were working tirelessly to fulfill the hundreds of orders the workshop had received.
Mark and Steve opened the store catalog. The background was changed to show triumphant images of the McCain Reaper in action. There were red and blue McCain's in every corner. The catalog, which at the moment had but two entries, had a more polished futuristic look. The store page even had sound effects. As Steve clicked on the mod kit for the I.M.S. Reaper custom, a cute monkey sound came out.
While Steve was playing around with the monkey sounds, Mark's attention was focused on the number of downloads the mod kit had, 10,207. He was surprised by the number.
"Hey Steve, do you have any Idea why the rifle we made is so popular?" Steve, while playing with monkey sounds, looks at him.
"It's because people are using it to train. As I was reading the A.M.S. forums, people were talking left and right about using the rifle to learn how to control the heat generated by it." Steve uses the terminal to load all the comments and requests.
"Look, man, there are tons of people who are using the coolant discharges as reference. Most of them hate that they lose sight of the target with the mist discharge, but the rifle is cheap and has a good kick." Steve pointed at the specific comment.
Steve loads another post. "There are others that are using the mist as cover; they keep the rifle hot until they need to move. Then they cause a mist discharge using the white smoke as cover to change locations. They are calling it the Beater maneuver."
Mark looked at Steve with amazement. "I never intended for the rifle to be used like this; it was actually never meant to be the focus of the project.
Scarlet entered the room and interrupted their conversation. "Guys, how many mechs have you sold? That mech factory of yours is producing machines like crazy, but they don't seem to end."
Mark walks to the design library and looks at the scores underneath the McCain Reaper's design. His eyes opened in surprise. " We have produced 1,865 units, and there are over 3,500 still on the queue list." Mark never expected that an unfinished machine would become so popular.
For the big mech factories, both in the real world and A.M.S., selling around 5,000 machines on the first day of its release was considered a flop. But for a tiny workshop, it was a huge success. Even so, Mark was not making a lot of money from the McCain Reaper. The mod kit for the rifle was not producing any at all. However, Mark was never interested in the money.
Scarlet takes a look at the McCain Reaper. "No wonder you are selling so much, you are practically giving away your mech." She shook her head. Most B-grade mechs for the first pilot level sell for no less than 5,000 vouchers. My old Machine on the first level was also a B-grade mech; it cost me 8,500 vouchers. That's a little over 6 times what your mech cost."
Steve, hearing Scarlet talk about her Mechs, wanted to see her in action. "Say, Scarlet, why don't we make a party and go for a few operations? Mark, you can come too."
"Hey, that way I can see if Mark is a good pilot." Scarlet's eyes filled with anticipation.
Mark, for his part, had a cooler head. "Well, don't expect much; the mechs I have in my personal hangar are not that great. I did not own a VR headset until yesterday. I mostly played at The Pit."
"Don't let him fool you, Scarlet, MARKSMAN IS A MENACE!" Steve screamed with his usual energy. "His strongest machine is a C-grade Rifleman mech called The Prescott M3. It looks wicked."
"I'll have to fuse my accounts. Give me a minute." With a few hand gestures and a small fee, Mark was able to fuse his pilot account with his creator's account. "It's done, but I want to wait for Alex."
They all agreed on waiting for Alex, and Steve went down and resumed the paint job. Scarlet, for her part, decided to try the trial version of the McCain Reaper. Mark decided to go to the second hangar and check on his mechs. He walked to the new hangar using the door that appeared next to the Repair control room.
Four of the six mech docks were filled. There were 3 C-grade machines and 1 D-grade machine. Mark was not able to get rid of his D-grade machine; it was the first mech he ever bought on his own.
The machine was a light mech. The model's name was the Gunslinger Delta. The armor was paper-thin, and the movements were a bit sluggish for a light mech. It had two pistols for weapons and a backup knife, which did not even vibrate.
His second mech was the Prescott M3. A humanoid rifleman designed for assault. It was painted Cobalt blue with golden accents, a somewhat decent machine. The armor coverage was good, but as it got damaged, the broken pieces lowered the mobility of the mech. It was best not to get hit.
His second-to-last mech was a medium-sized knight. This class was a defense-oriented machine with a melee weapon and a shield. It had a good defense, but the mobility was abysmal. They were mostly used to defend artillery and key personnel. The name of the model was the Galahad Type C.
Last was a sniper class mech. It had very low defense and average mobility, but with the rifle equipped on the machine, Mark could do a lot of damage. In all senses of the word, this mech was a glass cannon. This model was called The Simo.
After taking a look at his mechs, Mark decided to get a new one. Walking back to the shopping catalog, the young man started to browse. He decided to buy an A-grade mech.
To his surprise, the cheapest A Grade mech for the third level was priced at 49,999 vouchers. After browsing for a few minutes, he found an upgraded version of his Prescott M3. It was even colored Cobalt blue and gold. Mark bought it for 52,500 vouchers.
Having equipped the mech. Alex had finally arrived. Mark moved to the design lab to greet the young artist. As the young man in the cat butler avatar entered the design lab, the blue-suited form of Alex's avatar hid behind him.
A pouting scarlet protested. "Look, kid, I just wanted to take a look at your little cat ears; it's not a big deal."
Mark tapped Alex's helmet. "Alex, this is Scarlet. She is a classmate from the institute. Scarlet, this is Alex, one of my best friends. Also, Alex is our age and very shy."
Scarlet bowed as a form of apology. "I'm sorry, it was my mistake. Can you forgive me, Alex?" as she straightened her back, her bouncing ...personality, distracted Mark. Trying not to look like a creep, he looked away.
Alex stuck the blue helmet by Mark's side, and a text bubble floated over her blue ears. "...OK"
Steve arrived at the design lab. "Hey, I'm done with Scarlet's mech. Nice! Alex is here, GREAT! By the way, Alex, I loved the store page. The monkey sounds are the best."
The four of them form a party. Having decided to go for the Operations game mode, the team flashed out of the workshop.