Cerulean: A Deuce Through Enmity

Chapter One - Earth

Why do you pilot it?

The rubber grips are warm under his hands. Their ergonomic ridges and studded surface fit in his hands perfectly. Like they were made for him. The controlling metal sections through which he inputs controls skim the surface of his knuckles, hands gripping the horizontal rubber grips laid over the continuing metal so the joints of his fingers stared down at the floor of the cockpit.

Why do you pilot it?

Flashes in his vision. Warning lights. He's under attack. His body reacts before his mind realises, pushing both grips forward at once. His index fingers extend from where they rest against the grip to press down on the switches situated below the rubber grip, and his mind falls behind again.

Why do you pilot it?

His enemies are gone, nothing more than scattered metal drifting in the vacuum of space. Is this his birthright? As the simulation fades and the reality of the training cockpit returns, he realises a question will haunt him. The hatch opens behind him and his seat swivels to face it, allowing him to stand up and exit the cockpit. The light assaults him. People are talking. Surprise, shock. Are they talking about him? Yes. They know who he is.

Why do you pilot it?

He exits the hatch and looks back at the training pod, the cramped metal container. So small, yet freedom awaits within. What will this feeling bloom into when he shakes hands with what destiny has led him to?

Why do you pilot it?

~

Earth, 2189. Once rich and bountiful, the humans clinging to the skin of the ancient planet turned it into a metal coffin, a shadow of its former self. In this world, there are no trees. All there is is the cloudy grey sky and the spindly machines that reach into the sky, artificial trees that gleam dully in the guttered rays of the sun as they take in carbon dioxide and convert it into oxygen. Technology rules this planet. Metal has become natural; massive cities of gleaming grey alloys sprawl across the surface of the planet, some situated atop the oceans and others high in the sky. The world is choked by pollution and ever decreasing coastlines as the sea eats away greedily at the land it wishes to replace, the population of ten billion tightening the noose. As time ticks on and the days turn into years, the people of planet Earth pray for many things. But none more so than space, clean air. Trees.

The Exaria Corporation rules the planet, the main developer and producer of technology in this world. And through them, the power that truly rules the world is the Avon Monarchy of central Europe, the power that owns the corporation. They create the machines that stave off the encroaching darkness and the dull reality of the 22nd century. They also create machines of war. The Verestas. The next step in modern warfare, taking combat to all new heights. Autonomous mech suits, piloted by humans inside a cockpit sealed away within the chest of the 14 meter tall behemoths. Equipped with beam weaponry, flight capabilities, and revolutionary powering mechanisms, war changed forever when the Veresta was devised. But the world changed forever in 2189.

A portal the size of a building tore a gash through the air, shimmering and twisting. Through it lay a beautiful new world, one rich with forests and with skies untouched by callous human pollution. A brand new world ripe for the taking, a deposit for the overflowing population of this world. And of course, the inhabitants of this new world would be... troublesome. But then again, most were not human. Using this species divide as an excuse, the Avon Monarchy set their sights on conquering a planet. After all, it was for the good of the human race.

Months later, a stalemate continues to wear down both sides. The Avon Monarchy had underestimated the tenacity and unknown magical abilities of the creatures across the portal, but the sheer brute strength of their Verestas was not something to be taken lightly. Neither side could make any ground past the portal; the Verestas would push back the magical beings with fusillades of particle beams, but they would strike back just as hard with lightning from above and ice from below, the elements bending to their will and forcing the attackers back through the portal. The Avon Monarchy had underestimated their foes, and they had created an enemy out of a planet of magical beings. Something had to be done, something that would end this war of attrition and subjugate the creatures opposing them.