Mech Online: Echoes of Steel 1 (Litrpg)

Chapter 8: Training

The air crackled with energy in the high-tech training facility, a symphony of power and might that Jack Cooper could feel vibrating through the soles of his boots. He was surrounded by the cacophony of progress: hydraulic limbs hissing, servos whirring, and the relentless clang of metal on metal as mechs sparred with tireless enthusiasm.
"Focus on your own game, Jack," Zara Mitchell shouted over the din, her voice a battle cry mingling with the whine of energy cores powering up around them. "This isn't a spectator sport!"
Jack nodded, though he couldn't help but be awestruck. Mechs, a blend of towering steel giants and sleek, predatory automatons, moved with a grace that belied their size, their pilots encased within like gods controlling avatars of war. Each step they took left an imprint on the reinforced floor, each punch thrown resonated through the expanse of the training ground like thunder.
"Come on, Jack!" Zara's teasing jab brought him back to the moment. "You're not here to daydream about being a mech poster boy!"
"Right, because who would want their face plastered across LA?" Jack said, a grin spreading across his face as he adjusted the fit of his interface gloves. Resourceful and quick-witted, he knew the value in keeping the mood light even in a place as intense as this.
Zara rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk. "Yeah, let's get you not tripping over your own feet first."
Players buzzed around them, some maneuvering their mechanical extensions with ease that spoke of countless hours logged in training sims, others fumbling with the controls as if trying to solve a Rubik's Cube while blindfolded. Jack watched a nearby pilot execute a flawless aerial dodge, only to land in a tangled mess of limbs with their partner.
"Guess it's a dance-off now," Jack chuckled, but his humor was laced with determination. He wasn't just another office worker caught in an apocalyptic twist of fate anymore; he was a mech pilot, responsible for more than just TPS reports and avoiding the microwave after someone reheated fish.
"Less gawking, more punching," Zara said, clapping him on the shoulder, a gesture meant to impart both encouragement and urgency.
"Only if you promise not to laugh when I accidentally throw a punch at my own reflection," Jack replied, stepping into the designated training area. The hum of the energy cores was louder here, a constant reminder of the potential harnessed within each metallic frame.
"Deal," Zara agreed, though the twinkle in her eye suggested she reserved the right to at least chuckle.
And with that, Jack faced the training ahead, ready to master the power punches, hacking abilities, and even the perilous self-destruct maneuvers. After all, the fate of LA didn't rest on the shoulders of those who stood idly by. It rested on those willing to laugh in the face of annihilation and say, "Bring it on."
The clank and grind of gears reverberated through the training facility as Jack trailed Zara, dodging a robotic arm here, a sparring mech there. They slipped through the chaos with the ease of practice, heading toward a quieter corner sectioned off by laser grids that hummed in sync with the thrumming cores.
"Today," Zara began, her voice cutting through the background cacophony, "we're about to crank your fighting style up several notches. Power punches. Think of them as your mech's handshake with destruction."
Jack raised an eyebrow, his lips turning up in a smirk. "I've never been good at introductions, but I suppose it's time to work on my social skills."
"Save the charm for the dummies, Cooper," she shot back, her hands already dancing over her control console. The grid lines around them pulsed once, signaling their isolation from the rest of the facility. It was just them and the training equipment now.
Zara stepped into her own mech, a hulking beast of metal and sinew. It's hydraulics hissing like a prelude to a storm. Jack watched as she flexed the mech's fingers, then clenched them into fists.
"Watch closely," she instructed, her voice amplified through the mech's speakers.
With a fluidity that betrayed its size, her mech lunged forward. Fists blazed with a blue aura, an unmistakable sign of energy channelling. The power punches were a rapid-fire sequence of calculated fury, each hit creating shockwaves that rippled through the air.
"Boom! Bam! Pow!" Jack couldn't help himself; the comic book exclamations spilled out as he watched the display. A final, thunderous punch sent the training dummy's upper half soaring across the room like a missile, crashing into a wall with a satisfying crunch.
"Showoff," he muttered, though he couldn't keep the awe out of his voice.
"Job requirement," Zara replied, stepping out of the mech. Her eyes held a challenge. "Your turn."
Jack cracked his knuckles theatrically before approaching his own hulking suit of armor. If these mechs were the difference between survival and extinction, he was all too ready to dance this destructive tango.
Jack clambered into the cockpit of his mech, the interior alive with pulsating lights and a network of screens. He strapped himself in, the seat hugging his form as he gripped the controls, knuckles white.
"Okay, Jack," Zara's voice buzzed in his earpiece, "the power punch isn't just about brute force. It's an orchestra and you're the conductor."
"Got it," Jack replied, focusing on the gleaming console before him. "Lead the strings and horns."
"First, sync your breathing with the mech's energy core." Zara's tone was patient but firm. "Now, pull back your arm, coil up all that potential like a spring."
"Coiling!" Jack announced, feeling somewhat foolish as he exaggerated his movements within the vast metal shell.
"Timing is key," Zara continued. "Unleash the punch as if you're breaking through barriers invisible to everyone but you."
"Barriers, invisible, got it," Jack muttered, trying to visualize his target.
"Precision," she added. "Direct the mech's energy flow from the core, through the limbs, and out through the fist."
"Like threading a needle with a sledgehammer," Jack said, though he focused diligently on channeling the surge of power coursing through the console.
"Exactly. Now hit it!"
Jack threw the punch. The mech's arm jerked forward awkwardly, more of a clumsy swat than a precise strike. The training dummy stood unimpressed, its digital eyes almost mocking.
Aiden said, "Haha, you couldn't hit a fly."
"Oof, that's one for the blooper reel," Jack said, shaking off the embarrassment. "Let's go again."
"Remember, it's not about throwing your weight around," Zara advised, her voice betraying no amusement at his failed attempt. "It's finesse like a ballet dancer with a rocket launcher for legs. And Aiden shut your pie hole."
"Noted. But I don't have a pie hole. I'm a bot,"
"Shut up, Aiden," Jack said. "Let me focus." He paused. "Right. Ballet. Rocket launchers. Got the picture," he said, resetting his stance.
He took a deep breath, envisioning the energy flow she described. This time, when his mech's fist flew out, there was a glint of blue light; the beginning flicker of what he'd seen Zara do.
The punch connected, sending a small tremor running up the mech's arm structure. The dummy wobbled, teetering, but remained upright.
"Better," Zara acknowledged. "But I want to see that dummy wondering about its life choices."
"Understood, coach," Jack replied, determination lighting up his features. He could feel it now. The dance of energy, the rhythm of destruction waiting at his fingertips.
"Practice makes perfect, or at least less embarrassing," he mused to himself, ready to make that dummy regret ever being assembled.
Jack's mech arm cocked back, servos whining with potential energy. He exhaled sharply, a mist of breath visible on his heads-up display, a calming tempest within the cockpit. This time, he'd nail it.
"Remember, Jack, channel that focus," Zara's voice crackled over the comm.
"Channeling," he muttered, picturing her graceful yet devastating demo. "Finesse and power, finesse and... now!"
His arm thrust forward, a blur of metal and intent. The air sizzled as the punch landed with a resonant boom, and the dummy's head snapped back, lights flickering in digital pain. A victorious smile spread across Jack's face; the dummy reeled like it had just taken a cosmic haymaker from a celestial boxer.
"Ha! Take that, you high-tech beanbag!" Jack boasted, throwing a few mock jabs to celebrate.
"Nice hit. Your form has improved," Zara said, a hint of pride sneaking into her usually stern tone. "But don't get cocky. We've got bigger fish to fry than punching bags."
"Right, the hacking stuff." Jack shifted in his seat, his smile fading into a line of concentration. "Lay it on me."
"Mech combat isn't just about brute force," Zara began, her avatar pulling up schematics on Jack's secondary screen. "Sometimes, you need a scalpel instead of a sledgehammer. Getting inside enemy systems can turn the tide of a battle."
"Scalpels, sledgehammers, and now I'm a cyber-surgeon," Jack quipped. "Does this training come with a diploma?"
"Focus, Jack." Zara toggled a switch, and the training room morphed around them, holographic consoles and wireframe defenses materializing. "These are the firewalls you'll encounter. Bypassing them requires precision and speed. Time to swap those gloves for a keyboard."
"From ballet dancer to keyboard warrior," Jack mused, stretching his fingers before they danced across the virtual keys. "Let's hack the planet or whatever."
"Start with the first firewall. Remember, every action here is a lesson for when it counts," Zara instructed, her eyes locked onto Jack's progress.
"Got it. Dancing through the digital rain," Jack declared, tackling the challenge with the same determination that had turned his punches from laughable to formidable.
Jack's fingers flew across the holographic keyboard, a flurry of motion against the backdrop of a simulated cyber battlefield. Zara had crafted an elaborate network of digital defenses, each layer more complex than the last. Firewalls loomed like fortress walls, pulsating with an eerie neon glow as if to warn off any would-be intruders.
"Think of it like peeling an onion," Zara said, her voice calm but insistent over the comms. "Each layer gets you closer to the core, and yes, sometimes there are tears involved."
"Great, hacking with potential crying. Just what I signed up for," Jack quipped, his focus unbroken as he dispatched the first firewall with a series of deft keystrokes.
"First layer is down," Jack announced, a hint of triumph in his tone. The second barrier materialized, its code weaving an even tighter web.
"Here comes the main event," he muttered to himself, diving into the lattice of encryption that promised no quarter. His avatar's hands moved with a speed that belied his relative newness to this virtual realm, reflecting the same resourcefulness he'd demonstrated when the alien threat first emerged.
"Remember, there's rhythm to it," Zara reminded him, her presence both a guiding force and an anchor. "Find the pattern, break the sequence."
"Like cracking a safe," Jack responded, his mind recalling every heist movie he'd ever seen. With a flourish, he executed a string of commands, punctuated by a triumphant, "Gotcha!"
The defense grid flickered and collapsed, revealing the digital innards of a simulated enemy mech. Jack's avatar approached the now-vulnerable construct, a predator closing in on prey that had suddenly lost its teeth.
"Disarming weapons systems," he narrated, partly for Zara's benefit, mostly to keep the charged atmosphere light. "And... they're sitting ducks. What's next? Do we send them a polite 'game over' screen?"
"Control, Jack. Take command," Zara instructed, amusement tingeing her usually all-business demeanor.
"Right, the ol' switcheroo." Jack's hands were a blur once more, reprogramming the enemy mech to recognize a new master. He watched with glee as the machine's indicators switched from hostile red to a neutral blue. "Look at that, I'm a regular digital puppet master."
"Good work, Jack. You've got a knack for this," Zara conceded, and even through the sterile training interface, her approval was palpable. "But don't start celebrating yet. Real battle hacks won't be lined with tutorial tips."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Jack said with a grin he knew she couldn't see. "But I'll take the small victories where I can get them."
"Small victories lead to big wins," Zara replied. "Keep at it."
"Roger that," Jack said, already eyeing the next set of digital challenges with the eagerness of a gamer leveling up. "Let's turn these mechs into the best darn allies the apocalypse has ever seen."
Jack's exhilaration from his hacking triumph still buzzed through him as he and Zara approached the next training module. The air in the high-tech facility crackled with energy, a symphony of whirring servos and the muffled chatter of other pilots melding into an anthem of preparation.
"Okay, hotshot," Zara said, her voice cutting through the din as she keyed up the next program. "Time to dial it back from puppeteering to something a bit more... explosive."
"Explosive?" Jack perked up, a smirk forming under his helmet.
"Self-destruct," she stated flatly, watching him carefully. "Every mech has it. The big red button scenario. But it's not about going out in a blaze of glory; it's tactical self-annihilation. Precision is key. You need to take the enemy down without turning yourself into space dust or wrecking half the city."
Aiden said, "Don't teach him that. I don't want to explode."
"Sounds like the grand finale at a pyrotechnics show only with higher stakes," Jack said, though his hands hovered hesitantly over the controls.
"Aiden, you know if Jack uses the self-destruct you can leave the mech," Zara said.
"Oh, I forgot about that," Aiden said. "Proceed."
Zara nodded, her expression unreadable behind her visor. "Let's start with a small-scale simulation."
The training zone materialized around them. A desolate mock-up of Los Angeles, eerily silent. Abandoned mechs stood scattered like forsaken steel guardians amidst the crumbling architecture.
"Your target is that cluster over there." Zara pointed towards a group of dummy mechs huddled together. "Trigger the self-destruct, but I want you out of the blast radius before it goes boom. Got it?"
"Piece of cake," Jack boasted, but his heart thumped against his ribcage like a drum solo. He initiated the countdown sequence, the mech's AI voicing the timer with clinical detachment.
"Five... four..."
His fingers danced across the control panel, maneuvering the mech backward with swift, nimble steps.
"Three... two..."
"Clear the area, Jack!" Zara barked just as he thrusted the mech into a sprint, the ground trembling beneath its heavy strides.
"One..."
The world behind him erupted into a fiery comet's tail, heat nipping at his heels. He whipped the mech around just in time to witness the spectacular demise of the dummies—a blossoming inferno that roared like a lion proclaiming its dominion.
"Boom goes the dynamite," Jack exhaled, his cockpit echoing with the triumphant yet relieved laughter that bubbled up from his chest.
"Good distance, Cooper," Zara commended, her voice betraying a hint of surprise. "You're lucky you've got those runner's reflexes."
"Or maybe I'm just allergic to getting blown to smithereens," Jack joked, though he mentally noted the rush of adrenaline that came with skirting the edge of danger. "Let's set 'em up again. If we're gonna save LA, I need to be able to do this in my sleep."
"Again it is," Zara affirmed, already resetting the simulation. "This time, focus on minimizing collateral damage. We can't afford to level the city we're trying to protect."
"Understood," Jack replied, steeling himself for the next round. It was one thing to hack into an enemy's systems, another entirely to wield the power of destruction so precisely. But if it meant keeping what remained of their world safe, he'd learn to master this too.
Jack's brow was slick with perspiration as he initiated the self-destruct sequence once more, his fingers dancing over the controls with a surgeon's precision. The familiar countdown began, and with each tick of the digital clock, his heart matched its rhythm.
"Three... two..." He throttled the mech forward, the servos in the legs whirring with strained urgency. This time, it wasn't just about the sprint to safety; it was about control, the delicate art of balancing on the knife-edge between obliteration and preservation.
"Abort!" Jack barked, slamming his palm down. A shockwave of energy surged back into the mech's core, the imminent explosion siphoning off into a burst of harmless sparks that showered the ground like a fireworks display gone shy.
"Ha! Look at that," Jack crowed, a grin spreading across his face. "Not even a scratch on the paintwork."
"Better," Zara's voice crackled through the comm, "But your timing's still more off than my Aunt Edna's pacemaker. You've got to sync the abort with the energy spike. Again."
"Again," Jack echoed, resetting the console. His determination was a live wire, sparking with every failure, every near-miss. He would get this right, or he'd blow himself up trying, hopefully not literally.
The training wore on, repetition after repetition, until the movements felt less like commands issued from his brain and more like instinct woven into his muscle memory. The countdowns blurred together, but Jack's focus never wavered. Each abort, closer to the critical moment, each explosion less destructive, each escape swifter, smoother.
"Three... two... one... Abort!" The word was a whip-crack, and this time, the mech responded in perfect harmony. The burgeoning cataclysm retracted like a beast tamed, leaving only a contained ripple of force that buffeted the nearby debris without claiming it as casualties.
"Nice!" Zara's voice was a mix of satisfaction and respect. "Took you long enough, but that's textbook execution, Cooper. You could thread a needle with that kind of control."
"Thread a needle, demolish an alien horde... It's all in a day's work," Jack retorted, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand before realizing the futility; it was just as sweaty inside the cockpit.
"Remember, it's not about the flash," Zara continued, her figure approaching the steel behemoth that housed Jack. "It's about the follow-through. Teamwork is what will pull us through when we're out there, against them."
"Got it. Teamwork," Jack nodded, though his chest swelled with pride at having mastered the volatile technique. "And strategy, right?"
"Exactly." Zara patted the side of his mech, her gaze sweeping over the scuffed but intact exterior. "With your adaptability and our combined wits, those alien invaders won't know what hit 'em."
"Then let's make sure we hit them hard and hit them smart," Jack said, feeling the weight of what lay ahead, yet buoyed by the trust Zara placed in him. They were a team, and as improbable as it seemed. An office worker and an engineer, they had become humanity's line of defense.
"Ready for the real thing?" Zara asked, a challenge gleaming in her eyes.
"Born ready," Jack replied, his voice carrying a new edge of confidence. The simulation may have ended, but their battle for Los Angeles was just beginning.
Jack's mech crouched low, the servos in its legs whining softly as he prepared to launch from the training bay. The high-tech walls of the facility blurred into streaks of gray and silver as he focused on the virtual horizon displayed across his HUD.
"Okay," Jack muttered to himself, "let's see what you've got, LA." He could almost taste the smog and desperation that clung to the city's name, a flavor that now felt like a call to arms.
"Jack, watch your six! Simulation incoming!" Zara's voice crackled over the comms, her tone laced with a mock seriousness that belied the grin he knew she was sporting.
"Copy that, oh fearless leader," Jack shot back, thumbing the controls with more assurance than he'd ever thought possible.
The digital landscape erupted in chaos, enemy mechs descending like metal vultures, their weapons systems glowing ominously. Jack's fingers danced over the controls, maneuvering through the virtual onslaught with a grace that would have made his office-chair-self swoon in disbelief.
"Power punch!" he called out, just for the heck of it, slamming his fist forward. The enemy mech on the receiving end crumpled like a tin can under a boot heel, eliciting a cheer that echoed in the confines of his cockpit.
Aiden said, "Well, I'm glad you're learning and that I picked you."
"Nice one, Cooper, but don't forget the main event," Zara reminded him, her voice a beacon amidst the cacophony of simulated warfare.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Jack grinned, toggling switches as he guided his mech through a series of evasive maneuvers that felt like second nature.
As he weaved between digital buildings, the hacking protocol lit up his vision. With a few swift key strokes, he infiltrated enemy systems, clawing through firewalls with the ferocity of a starving beast. Enemy weapons powered down, their mechs freezing mid-charge, open for attack.
"Looks like I'm getting the hang of this," Jack boasted, though only the hum of his mech's energy core answered back.
"Showtime, folks!" he declared, fingers hovering over the self-destruct sequence. This was it, the big bang, literally. With a carefully measured breath, Jack initiated the countdown, feeling the raw energy surging around him.
"Three... two... one..." He punched the final command, and the simulation exploded in a brilliant display of light and sound, leaving Jack's mech standing unscathed amid the digital devastation.
"Whoa," he exhaled, the exhilaration coursing through him like electricity. "That's one way to make an exit."
"Jack, if that's how you say goodbye, I can't wait to see your hello," came Zara's chuckle over the comms.
"Trust me, Zara," Jack replied, a smirk playing on his lips as he powered down the systems, "the aliens are gonna get one heck of a welcome party."
He popped the hatch and climbed out, his body thrumming with a readiness he'd never known before. The facility stretched out around him, a testament to humanity's resilience, and for the first time since the invasion began, Jack felt a surge of pure, undiluted excitement.
"Let's bring the fight to them," he said, meeting Zara's approving nod with a fierce determination. "Los Angeles won't know what hit it."
And with that, Jack stepped away from the simulator, his laughter mingling with the sounds of the training facility, the echo of his newfound readiness for battle trailing behind him like the afterburn of a rocket.