#Mobile Frame Zero: Rapid Attack

[yodawgiheardyoulikemecha]

Marshal II by Ruh Ruh

[alinopandino]

OAS Grace

A spaceship that can transport and deploy a mobile frame company of six.

4p scale.

[thehydromancer]

Lego Gundam Wing Zero Endless Waltz Custom scaled for playing Mobile Frame Zero: Rapid Attack. Full disclosure, the sub-wing design was sent to me by a friend from a Saint Seiya Brickhead knockoff from Ali Express, and I haven't be able to find the original designer. The flight mode transformation is almost all built in articulation, but the shield required an addition 1x1 plate and 1x1 bracket to connect.

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Rot: Patient Zero

An infection is spreading across all of Cybertron and not a spark knows what is going on. Ratchet has been called upon to inspect patient zero to try and find the cause of all this. It ends as well as one might expect.

This is a little gift for my dear friend @spreadwardiard and their fantastic fic The Rot.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Where is the patient?” The datapad in Ratchet’s servo cracked as he clutched it a little too tightly. He cursed softly and strode forward with greater speed, First Aid scurrying alongside him.

“We have found several infected patients, but the one we are going to is in the far room, the most secure part of the facility.” First Aid supplied with a hint of worry in his voice. Ratchet hummed and looked over the datapad again. 

Hundreds of reports of a strange virus infecting the lower levels had begun to spread like a wildfire. Every few kliks there was another ping and yet another designation added to the growing list of those infected with the virus. This was an outbreak, and it was growing worse at rapid speed. Ratchet had already given the order to close off the upper regions of Iacon, but the middle and lower levels were being overtaken by whatever this was.

They needed to understand it and find a cure fast. There had been no casualties yet, but Ratchet had seen the Rust Plague. He knew how quickly something so simple as a mere respiratory malfunction could turn deadly. 

“We believe this is patient zero, correct?” Ratchet inquired as he passed by several holding cells where infected individuals were pacing mindlessly. Looking over them briefly, they seemed… lost. Their optics were hazy and their movements disjointed. Most were mumbling about nonsense, but there was a common theme that left a worrying fear nagging at the back of Ratchet’s mind.

“Hungry… need… energon.” Ratchet grimaced slightly as he passed by a particularly delirious patient. The mech was leaking oral fluids, seemingly without any care whatsoever. His frame seemed gaunt, almost emaciated. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Yes, the patient we are going to meet is indeed the one we believe to be the original carrier of the virus. He was at a bar at the time and the infection has spread from that location since. And while we do have enforcers down there trying to keep things in order-” First Aid fidgeted and stepped back hastily as one patient flew against the bars separating him from the hall. The patient’s face was the embodiment of madness, and his expression was lopsided, almost as though he’d had a spark attack and was still recovering.

“What do we know so far? What are the symptoms?” The mech gurgled worryingly as Ratchet grabbed First Aid by the arm and pushed on. First Aid stumbled for a moment before replying. Ratchet took care to not look at any of the patients in the optic directly. He hated keeping patients behind bars, but they were too dangerous to be interacted with. 

“Severe hunger, madness, disorientation, mobility loss, and in the most severe cases, plating loss. It seems to be a degenerative virus that weakens the frame over time.” Ratchet nodded and passed First Aid the datapad as they approached a door. It was thick, black proof based on the structure of it. A wise place to keep patient zero.

“Give me a hazmat suit. I am not going in there just to catch whatever this is.” First Aid was quick to follow the given order and collected a suit from the nearby lockers. Within a klik, his apprentice was back by his side with the materials. Ratchet always hated the suites, but they were useful despite their appearance.

Neon green boots and leg coverings slid on first, kept in place by straps that were fitted over his shoulders. They dug into his seams, but with the covers coming up to his mid waist, there would be no risk of fluid getting near his exposed cabling or plating. Next came the gown with First Aid had to get a stool to help Ratchet get into. The thing was also disgustingly bright green and it fell over his helm without issue. Getting his arms into the sleeves was a nightmare with his arm guards, but he managed. 

Gloves were strapped onto his wrists with tight bindings and the cuffs of his sleeves were tucked into the gloves just to be safe. As if he didn’t look ridiculous enough, the helm piece of the whole suit was quickly put into place. It was a relatively simple design. A draping helm cover fell down from his helm to his shoulders, held in place by straps under his chin. Then to top it all off, a cone shaped, almost beak like visor was slipped into place and locked on. The thing was almost entirely air tight, but there was plenty of room around his intake and optics so that he could run his air filtration systems without issue.

He looked like a hot mess, but he was ready. The bright purple mark of the medic stood proudly on his chest as he gestured for First Aid to step away and made his way through the door into patient zero’s containment chamber. 

“You are… Springstep, correct?” Ratchet called out, his voice coming out somewhat staticy through the communicator built into his mask. The mech in front of him had his arms bound behind his back, a safety measure to ensure he didn’t hurt himself or any staff. If they were doing things properly or if they had more time, the mech would have been given better accommodations.

As it was, patient zero was simply too dangerous to be handled properly.

“Yes? You are… a doctor?” The mech questioned, his optics hazy and uncertain as he looked Ratchet up and down. Ratchet made a noise of affirmation and edged closer to examine the mech. 

“I am. My designation is Ratchet.” Cautiously Ratchet shuffled forward until he was about a foot away from the mech. Springstep looked terrible just from a quick physical glance over. His complexion was awful, his facial protoform sunken in enough that it seemed as though it was stretched too thin. His frame was boney, his hips jutting out awkwardly almost as if he hadn’t had a decent fueling in stellar cycles. 

According to his files, he had been perfectly healthy up until about three cycles ago. Such rapid loss of mass was highly concerning. Perhaps it was a parasite? That would account for the lack of nutrients in the patient. However, it did not rationalize why the virus was spreading so rapidly. 

“Tell me how you are feeling and when your symptoms began to show themselves.” Ratchet ordered as he dutifully began running scans from a safe distance. Springstep was startlingly low on fuel. His systems were resorting to consumption of excess mass in order to keep functioning. There was no way a mech who was perfectly healthy mere cycles prior should have been suffering from third degree energon deficiency. 

“Rotted… broken… my insides burn… my processor… all foggy… started down at the docks.” Springstep attempted to speak, but his glyphs were broken and disjointed. Ratchet grimaced beneath his mask. This mech wasn’t going to make it. Such severe speech impediments combined with his frame’s state did not speak positively of his chances of survival. 

“Where by the docks did you encounter this virus? Do you know?” Ratchet continued his line of questioning even as he began sending pings back to the other medics outside. 

[[Lock down the lower levels entirely. Priority individuals and essential workers are to be moved to the upper levels and secured immediately. Begin administration of hazmat suit instruction to all medical personnel. Not a spark is to be seen without a suit from this point onward.]]

“Don’t… know…” Springstep trailed off and Ratchet frowned. This was just like the Rust Plague, and yet so much worse all at the same time. The virus was spreading just as fast, but the effects were worse, or rather more intense. The rust killed a mech slowly through corroding their insides. Whatever this was worked at an  accelerated rate and with incredible efficiency. It hadn’t even been three cycles and already patient zero was going to drop dead.

A lockdown was the bare minimum.

“Thank you Springstep. I will have one of my associates administer a sedative to help ease the pain-” Ratchet trailed off as Springstep lurched forward, his frame heaving as he purged green goo onto the ground. Springstep’s optics widened and cycled rapidly as he struggled. Ratchet knew that look, it was a sign of madness, the swift clarity before death that faded away into insanity. 

He didn’t hesitate to turn around and run.

Time seemed to slow as he crashed into the door, hurriedly trying to punch in the code to exit as Springstep growled like a wild animal and snapped his restraints. Energon rushed from the mech’s wounds, but he was rapid as he skidded forward, no intelligence remaining in his gaze.

“STAY BACK!” Ratchet lifted an arm just in time for Springstep to collide with him. The mech’s jaw clamped down tight on his arm, denta digging deep and tearing through protective plastic sheeting. Ratchet winced as pinpricks of pain shot up his arm from where Springstep’s denta had dug into him. But he did not waste another moment in kicking Springstep to the ground and rushing through the door as it opened.

He couldn’t use his servos to hurt a patient, but no one said anything about his pedes. 

“Sir! Are you alright!?” First Aid hurried forward, a welder in his servo. He was quick to begin welding the minor cut closed, and Ratchet allowed it. Once his apprentice was done, Ratchet sighed and pulled off his mask.

“I will be fine, but this is far worse than I thought. My orders still stand, but I want every sparkling in upper Iacon put in stasis for the time being. They won’t last more than thirty kliks under this virus.” First Aid nodded and began taking notes, but Ratchet did not wait around. His frame suddenly ached with exhaustion which he chalked up to having to beat a patient into the ground on short notice. It had been a long cycle of handling the situation. He needed rest. There wasn’t much he could do until his orders were implemented anyway.

[[This is a direct order from the CMO of Cybertron. The situation has been deemed a medical emergency for all of Cybertron. From now until the situation is dealt with, medical orders take precedence over all others. Comply or be removed from major cities effective immediately.]] 

He groaned as his message was sent out to every mech of importance in Iacon. His helm pounded and he found he didn’t have the will to make the long march back to his hab. He had a work office nearby. He would stop by there and take a nap as he’d done plenty of times before.

“By the Allspark, this is bad.” He murmured as he arrived at his office and stepped inside. He hadn’t even bothered to remove the suit. His limbs felt like lead and his helm pounded so much that he could hardly see straight. This wasn’t good. 

The bite on his arm burned and his very frame felt as though it were struggling to keep functioning. He hardly had enough time to close the door behind him before he fell to the ground, spark deep exhaustion pulling at him along with bursts of pain he couldn’t fight. 

His optics flickered and he weakly tried to move, to do anything. His limbs would not obey him, and as he lay on the hard ground heaving, he wanted to curse. He should have known better than to march off as soon as he’d interacted with a patient. At the time he had just been so very- -tired.

[bryanharryrombough]

Come learn the game of Little Lego Giant Robots at CanGames 2024!

I'll be running a Mobile Frame Zero: Rapid Attack demo table Saturday & Sunday at CanGames 2024 in May. Frames, dice and everything needed for play will be provided.

CanGames is Canada's longest running tabletop gaming convention, held every Victoria Day long weekend in the historic Rideau Curling Club in downtown Ottawa.

CanGames 2024 - Ottawa, ON - 17th-19th of May, 2024

[theresattrpgforthat]

THEME: MECHS Part 2

There are a lot of great Mech games, so this is a continuation of this week's theme!

Breakup on Re-Entry by Riverhouse Games

Earth is at war w/ The Colonies. Mech pilots must keep their identities secret or risk assassination. You just realized your lover has been secretly piloting your rival mech. It all comes down to this battle. Do you want to keep fighting?

This is a roleplaying game for two Mecha pilots who do not know yet that their mortal enemy sleeps by their side every night. You will need a deck of Poker cards and two index cards to play this game.

Players will draw from the deck of cards and answer questions about Civilian Life, the War, the Fight at Hand and your Lover. Your character won't realize who exactly it is they are fighting until they draw the King of Hearts - and then you will get to roleplay all of the heartbreak and betrayal: if you stop fighting, you will get do decide what happens after. This is a simple, short game, great for two people who want to roleplay out something dramatic without requiring a time commitment longer than a few hours.

Bro, is it Gay to GATTAI? by Lucas Valensa.

Bro, he’s your whole world. He makes you feel fabulous. He completes you. He’s huge, made of metal, and has a heart powered by plutonium.

He’s a giant robot. And so are you.

You’re in love and the two of you combine into an even bigger giant robot.

This is “Bro, Is It Gay To GATTAI!?” a Gay Game about telling your boyfriend you love him and how much he means to you. This game is a hack of “Hot Gay Bro Dragons” by Riverhouse Games, inspired Transformers, LEGO Bionicle, and any other media where two giant robots combine into a bigger robot.  

You'll need some kind of toy robot to build as you play this game together. As you build, you'll ask (and answer) questions about your relationship. Puns and bad jokes are encouraged! This is an excellent game for couples, or people who would like to try romantic roleplay.

Apocalypse Frame by Binary Star Games.

In a ruined and terraformed world where most of humanity is under the yoke of a brutal regime, the former workers of a once-remote factory - now known as The Collective - have risen up to create a future of freedom from oppression. You are an Ace - a highly skilled pilot referred from a Division in The Collective and assigned a humanoid combat vehicle known as a Frame. You and your Strike Team of fellow Aces must take on The Collective’s greatest threats, ensure its survival, and carve a path for its continued success.

APOCALYPSE FRAME is designed to be very fast to pick up and play, and it's suitable for both one-shots and extended campaigns. Combat is quick, punchy, and deadly for Aces' enemies. 

Player characters have three attributes: Drive, Speed and Control. You will choose one of your three attributes for every attack roll you make, and roll a number of d6's equal to your Attribute number. Apocalypse Frame uses the LUMEN system and comes with pre-generated characters (for the table that wants to get roleplaying right away) as well as an expansion called Aces High! You can also pick up Ballad of Industrial Gods, and Explore the Ruined World, which contain missions and seasonal content for Apocalypse Frame. With easy rules and a lot of content, your party can get a new campaign up and running quickly!

Mobile Frame Zero: Firebrands by Lumpley Games (Meguey & Vincent Baker.)

Humanity has spread through the Milky way, using interstellar transit gate technology to colonize the galaxy. Mobile frames are the hard-working, hard-fighting combat- and labor mecha they’ve brought with them.

You are romantic ace mobile frame pilots, caught up in an undeclared war for the future of the Bantral system.

MOBILE FRAME ZERO: FIREBRANDS is a roleplaying party game by Meguey Baker & D. Vincent Baker, set in Joshua A.C. Newman’s MOBILE FRAME ZERO universe. You don’t need to be familiar with MF0: RAPID ATTACK or MF0: INTERCEPT ORBIT to play. To play, you’ll need 3–5 players, a copy of the playbook for each, and a handful of coins.

This is the precursor to the Firebrands series, a game in which players engage in a series of mini games in order to play out a series of scenes between their characters. If you are a fan of Mobile Frame Zero, if you like the idea of romance and big mech pilots, if you like games focused on narrative more than anything else, this is the game for you.

Disaster/Wing by A Couple of Drakes.

Deal with drama, pass the test, doubt yourself, trust your friends, face down the Alien Horde, and GET IN THE ROBOT.  

DISASTER/WING, prep for launch.

DISASTER/WING is a mecha tabletop game  made to tell stories of fantastic adolescent heroism and giant robots. The characters are teenagers in a world very much like our own. They go to school, get embroiled in teen drama, and try to find their place in the face of onrushing adult responsibility and societal expectation. They are also in a city that is actually a giant spaceship, hurtling through space, fleeing a catastrophic war with technologically-superior aliens that destroyed their world generations ago. They are also, through no fault of their own, the only ones who can pilot the centuries-old war machines that are their city’s only hope when the aliens inevitably return. They exist between these worlds, juggling their teenage feelings and responsibilities with the duty that has been thrust upon them. 

Another Forged in the Dark game, this game adds the teenage experience to the mecha genre. You'll be running through missions without the fiddly planning, focusing on the action and quick d6-based pools.

Nova by GilaRpgs

NOVA is a rules-lite tabletop RPG in a world where the sun exploded, and humanity struggles to hold onto what little light they have left. The players will pilot exosuits, called Sparks, exploring the dark ruins of old earth, searching for the technology and knowledge that may just bring on a new dawn.

NOVA also uses the LUMEN system, which is designed for action-packed combat, equipping the players with a set of powers that bring the power fantasy feelings of looter shooters to the tabletop. Players will each choose a Spark to pilot, specialized exosuits designed to explore the dangers of the Dusk. Each exosuit was designed by humanity to serve a particular function, and the LUMEN system equips the players with a set of powers and abilities that allow them to excel while on their dangerous missions.

This is a game with a slew of third-party content available for you to modify your gam with, including new Sparks, alternate mechanics and additions to the world. You're not going to get gigantic robots in this game, but you'll get the same theme of humans going up against larger-than-life odds, fighting desperately to cling onto hope. This is a twice-Ennie-nominated game, so it's worth checking out!

[codylabs]

Knight Sabers!

But redesigned to use technology from my universe!

Apparently my universe has infinitely-sharp swords and razor wire now!

ABSOLUTELY UNREASONABLY DETAILED breakdown below cut!

Okay, so by 'redesign' I mean essentially just repainting the Class-5 Berserker Frame from my own universe. The C-5 was already fully interchangeable from the elbows and ankles down, and has hardpoints for specialized equipment on the knees, shoulders, and helmet, so this little exercise was as simple as researching cool weapons, then pausing and screenshotting the anime to get the colors right, because I'm naturally garbage at colors and prefer to trust a computer.

Bubblegum Crisis was a big inspiration for the C-5 in the first place, especially on the character-customizable side, so this was a blast.

For info on the C-5's general mechanical design, including what those ankles are for and how the operator gets in and out, go to the original post where I designed it, linked above.

Anyway, I gave each character the weapons and tools that either best match their original loadout, or best match their needs and fighting style if the originals were deemed unrealistic. All together, their equipment is suitable for taking out heavily-armored, slower-moving targets in urban environments, while maintaining a short-range tactical network within the squad.

In order of protaganosity,

Priss, the blue one:

Equipped for close-quarters combat. The large clamps are much stronger and better suited for grappling and crushing than the ordinary waldoes, but their musculature system doesn't leave any room in the gauntlets for integrated machine guns like Nene and Linna have. The claws do have a couple fingers that can unfold off their tops, so she isn't completely incapable of fine dexterity.

Each gauntlet externally mounts a short-barrelled 30mm-calliber cannon, which fires high-powered tungsten-carbide discarding-sabot kinetic perpetrators. The short barrel makes these inaccurate at range, but the high speed, high mass, and low cross section of the rounds make them ideal for piercing armor from mid-range or close range. These replace the weird glowing spears that she shoots in the show. They are essentially just non-glowing spears that travel a lot faster and are MUCH louder. Each magazine holds 6.

Knees are each mounted with a single-use high-explosive anti-tank shaped charge designed to blast a gap in an armor plate, then release another blast through the gap, in a two-stage detonation. Vents in the knee plate prevent armor or operator from being damaged by the kick-back, though the knee plate itself is often destroyed.

Priss being the most reckless and close-quarters combatant of the bunch, her helmet is largest and most tanky; it contain extra padding and armor against blunt force impacts, a minimized sensor suite consisting of a pair of night-vision-capable armored cameras, and the non-retractable variety of communications antennae, and an external speaker so she can yell at cops or something.

She elected against armored skirt plating on the grounds that it looked girly, which leaves a vulnerability in the upper thighs, where a large area of light joint ribbing is exposed. Shouldn't be a huge issue as long as she stays too close for machine guns to target. As you may guess, Priss gets hurt a lot, and no redesign will change that.

Sylia, the silver (mint?) one

Equipped for precision strikes and rapid movement. Her gauntlets, aside from the standard waldos, prominently feature a pair of short swords. Their blades contain neutron-froth graphene, a highly expensive material over 10,000 times stronger than steel, and only 2,000 times as heavy; it only exists in a very thin strip on the leading edge, but is hard enough to maintain a monomolecular sharpness. The rest of the gauntlets are occupied by the muscle systems needed to swing and align the sword, and the pumping system needed to maintain the cold temperature needed to stabilize the neutron froth, and so she doesn't carry machine guns either.

Externally mounts the same kinetic perpetrator launchers as Priss, but with 3-round magazines instead of 6, both to save on weight, and because she doesn't use them nearly as liberally.

Knees and shoulders contain compact gravity dynamos for increased maneuverability. On extended discharge they can allow for limited flight, and on fast discharge can provide a powerful "boost" in any direction, vastly increasing the ability to strike, retreat, strafe, or jump. I know gravity dynamos are pretty out-of-left-field, but they're a thing in my universe ever since exotic mass was discovered on planet Hephaestus.

Sylia's helmet is fairly standard, with comm antennae that can retract during maneuvers, and a sensor suite that can be swapped out depending on mission specifics or how fabulous she feels like being.

Not quite sold on her paint job here. Anyway,

Nene, the pink one

Equipped for fire support and electronic warfare. Gauntlets contain the standard waldo and machine gun loadout, as well as extra feelers and data ports for interfacing with computer systems. I don't know why I drew a little screen folding out of the gauntlet, that doesn't make a lot of sense when you have a HUD, but it looked nice. Speaking of looking nice, the shoulder joints of the C-5 suit actually cannot physically bend into the position that Nene's arms are in right here. So that's some disappointing.

The suit mounts no heavy weapons, but is accompanied by a pair of gravity-propelled escort drones. They normally act in a strictly observational role, but can ram and self destruct with a high-powered shaped charge if needed, which is nice.

The suit is meant to serve as the nerve center of the knights' tactical network. A large suite of antennae extend the range of its comm systems, allowing it to connect with friendly systems at distance, as well as listen in on enemy signals, or jam them completely. A powerful onboard computer handles decryption and data processing from enemy signals.

Those knee pads are smoke grenade and flare launchers. It seemed like a nice thing to have.

Helmet speaks for itself. It contains a vast sensor suite, allowing her to see in perfect dark, use infrared thermal imaging, 'hear' electrical activity, measure radiation sources, and even detect trace chemicals in the air and stream in 4k until Sylia told her to stop.

The first drones were named Sneezy and Sleepy, these two are Happy and doc. Whenever one gets destroyed she names its replacement after the next dwarf. Someday she'll run out of dwarves and will have to resort to pacman ghosts or bionicles.

Linna, the green one

Equipped for high-powered, hit-or-miss type attacks, and high mobility. Linna is their most nimble and physically intuitive operator, so they have her be first to try out any exotic or experimental equipment. If it's any use, she would be the one best suited to find that use, and if not, she would be best suited to get out of dodge.

Gauntlets, as mounted here, are a standard waldo/machine gun unit on her left, and high-explosive anti-tank ram on the right, which uses the same 'rounds' as Priss's knees. Her right gauntlet is the only arm on any of the four to completely lack fingers, so that's amusing. Maybe I could fit a little claw or something but I forgot.

Knees and shoulders mount gravity dynamos for extra mobility, same as Sylia. To decrease weight and increase bodily control, she went so far as to forgo the armored skirt, same as Priss did.

And of course the fancy whip things. They're composed of the same neutron-froth graphene as Sylia's swords, but in the form of micron-diameter razor wire, which would be able to slice through light armor in broader strokes and greater range than a sword. At such a tiny thickness even NFG wears through quickly, so the suit contains spools to replenish it. Although I drew the wires as black lines here, they would be thinner than a human hair, and quite nearly invisible in person, so it would be down to the operator's skill and intuition to keep track of where they actually are, and to keep from getting hurt by them. Speaking of, in the show the whips come out of her HELMET, which (although I appreciate the Sailor Moon pigtail aesthetic) makes absolutely zero sense, would be nearly uncontrollable, hard to swing with any power, and, more to the point, absurdly dangerous. Mounting these whips externally on the gauntlets seemed more effective and responsible. They can roll up and retract when not in use.

So yeaah

This was done as a request for @mechanicalinertia I think, but not actually, because I wanted to draw it too anyway, they just reminded me.

[prokopetz]

Other than Lancer, what systems would you suggest for running a game based around both mechs and their pilots? Like, some sections of the campaign being proper mech combat between walking artillery and others as a more free-flowing, fast-paced (for a ttrpg) action as a near superhuman special operative (or similar).

Depends on how stark you want the mechanical difference between in-mech and out-of-mech play to be.

If you’re aiming for something really asymmetrical, you might have a look at the Mobile Frame Zero family of games. There are two relevant entries for this purpose:

Mobile Frame Zero: Firebrands - A political soap opera game presented as a collection of (mostly) diceless minigames; each minigame represents a particular type of scene, from brawling to ballroom dancing, and plays out as a series of guided question-and-answer prompts.  

Mobile Frame Zero: Rapid Attack - A full-featured tabletop skirmish wargame where you build your mechas out of Lego bricks (or some digital equivalent, for online games).

Basically, you’d use Firebrands as the core of your game, and whenever a mecha battle worth playing out in detail happened, you’d switch to Rapid Attack. The latter supports up to five players out of the box, but has a baked-in assumption that each player is commanding a small company of mechs, so if you’d prefer a one-player-to-one-mech experience you’d just have all of the players collectively act as a single “company” and treat it mechanically as a 1v1 battle versus the GM.

If you’d rather the transition between pilot and mecha play be a little less jarring (or if diceless storygames like Firebrands just annoy you), you might instead check out Chris Perrin’s Mecha. Like a lot of American-made “anime style” RPGs, it sometimes has difficulty distinguishing between Japanese anime tropes and American 1980s high school comedy tropes; if you can get past that, it’s a fun system, and very fast-playing, at least as full-featured mecha games go. Possibly a little abstract if you’re expecting full on wargame-style mech combat like Lancer or the preceding recommendation, though.

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 15

Warnings: language, literally zero editing

Word count: 3k

A/N: Wow I’m back to updating this story??? A million years later?? I am so sorry to anyone who was following this - but if you’re still reading and still interested, here’s an update! God as my witness, I will finish this. I actually have more ideas and inspiration for where the story’s going now - plus we’re all getting quarantined, so these WIPs have never had a better chance of getting done. Anyways, here it goes! Please let me know what you think! 

The lone monitor beeped steadily, plaintively, in the early morning quiet of the hospital room. Air rattled through the breathing machine, filling unknowing lungs over and over. A starched white blanket was pulled up to his chest, covering most of the bandages wrapped around his torso from the hours of emergency surgery. His left arm was already in a cast and laid on top of the blanket, resting against his stomach. 

Natasha felt sick.

And angry. 

How could she have been so stupid? Acting like a goddamn rookie, for starters, and running to Nick to fix their situation - letting things get out of hand with the Avengers, failing to convince Y/N to get out of here before things got bad. And they were only going to get worse. 

If Nick had been identified, then they were all in danger. And there was no fucking way, to her mind, that he couldn’t have been I.D.’d. This wasn’t a random accident, regardless of whatever the hell the local police wanted to write on the incident report. It was an attack, a warning. First blood. 

Her knee bounced in her seat by the bed, plastic upholstery squeaking with every shift in her weight. She chewed her nails - a habit she thought she had finally managed to kick. A tall nurse, dark curls piled into a bun on top of her head, came in to check Nick’s vitals; she was quiet, efficient, offering Nat a sympathetic smile. 

“If you need anything, just contact the nurse’s station, ok?” Her pink bubblegum, tucked in the back corner of her mouth, was visible when she talked. “And there’s a coffee machine around the corner, in case you need your fix before the cafeteria opens up.”

Nat nodded her thanks as the woman slipped out of the room, her white nursing clogs creaking a little, not yet broken in. 

The sky outside the window continued to brighten, a clear and cold winter morning; she wasn’t sure how long she stared at him before she decided to have that coffee after all. Massaging her temples, she shuffled down the hallway towards the flickering glow of the machine. Her boots echoed on the tiles in the empty hall, the low hum of the coffee machine filling the little alcove near the elevators. It whirred and hissed and spat out her coffee into a blue paper cup with slow, deliberate drips. 

How had she let it get this far? What was she going to do without him? And who the hell could she trust? She winced as the first sip of coffee burned her tongue. It wasn’t as though she didn’t trust the team…but she’d gone to Nick in the first place because they were no longer being objective - Barnes especially, and Rogers was only enabling him. 

Her eyes on the waxed linoleum floor, she barely noticed him standing outside the door of the hospital room. Steve squared his shoulders, directly in front of her, his eyebrows tilted at a thunderous angle. 

“You gonna tell me what the hell is going on here?” he gritted out, the hoarse edge of his voice scraping in his throat. 

Nat didn’t answer, not right away. Instead, she let him stew in the boil of his righteous anger, air tightening between them. The coffee had cooled a bit, but left a funny taste in her mouth - the flavor mixed badly with the mints she’d been sucking on an hour ago. The muscles in her neck and back ached from hunching by Nick’s bed all night, and she arched a little on her feet, stretching and flexing, though the early morning tightness never quiet left her muscles. 

Finally, when the flare of Steve’s nostrils told her he was on the verge of making a scene, she gestured toward the door with her coffee cup. 

“Why don’t you head in there and see for yourself?”

Clenching his jaw, Steve turned and let himself into the hushed dimness of the hospital room. He filled the doorway - he filled most doorways - and from behind Natasha wished he could march into this and save the day, the way he always wanted to. At the foot of the bed, he stopped and rested a hand on the mobile tray waiting there, now cleared of the uneaten food from last night. His mouth turned further down, matching the turn of his eyes as he watched the sleeping man tucked into crisp hospital linens. After all these years, I was so strange to see Nick this way - weak, still, not in command. It shook something loose inside of him, but he tamped it down, cracking the knuckles of his fist. 

“You know who did this?” he said, his voice a low growl under the tone of the monitors. Behind him, Nat closed the door with a soft click. 

“Of course I do - don’t you?” She slipped behind him, sipping from her coffee, and took up her chair by the bed again. 

Big hands curling and uncurling, Steve remained silent. From her spot in the squeaky hospital chair, Nat watched the slant of his profile, reading the rage in every line. 

“Rumlow is dead,” Steve said through clenched teeth. 

“But not the rest of them.”

“Without a leader? They’re just a bunch of thugs.” Steve shook his head. “There’s someone else pulling the strings - someone smarter.” He nodded towards Nick’s prone body. “Someone who knew about Nick. Maybe about all of us.”

Natasha nodded slowly, one finger tracing the rim of her coffee cup. Usually she enjoyed being right. 

Steve scrubbed at his face with his hands, blowing a harsh breath past his lips. He turned away from the hospital bed and paced along the edge of the room, towards the window. With the thin curtain drawn, pale sunlight cast shadows beneath his eyes, sharped the noble angle of his nose. HE never dreamed they’d be standing here, years deep in a life built on lies and duty. Fresh from the army, him and Buck, and no plans - that’s when Sam approached them. Intelligence work, a chance to do something important, to keep fighting the good fight on the home front. 

“They’re all in danger.” Natasha’s voice scraped at the edges of her throat. “You know that, Steve.” 

“I know.”

“It’s time.” He turned to look at her, bits of hair falling from her ponytail to frame her face. Bits of mascara had smudged underneath her eyes, bloodshot and heavy. 

“Make the call,” Steve said, looking back towards the window. “Get Pierce if you have to. It’ll piss off Stark to go over his head, but I’m not worried about his ego.”

Nat licked her lower lip, tracing the chapped skin. 

“What about Barnes and his girlfriend?” she asked, leaning an elbow on the arm of her chair. “I can’t see him being eager to burst their happy little bubble.”

Steve sighed through his nose, crossing his huge arms across his chest. The monitors beeped a lonely rhythm behind him. 

“I”ll handle Bucky. Just get everything ready - make all the arrangements. Do what you have to do.” 

  ***********                                                                                                  

“So for dinner, I’m thinking…we still have that spaghetti squash in the fridge? I could whip up some kind of sauce to go with it…” she peaked her head up over the door of the fridge. “Sound good to you, Buck?” 

Startled, Bucky’s head popped up from his phone. 

“Uh, yeah sure,” he said, ducking back down and resuming the rapid movement of his thumb. 

With a frown, Y/N hip-checked the door closed, bottles rattling inside. 

“Are you listening to me, Bucky Barnes?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she leaned back against the fridge. 

He looked up again - a well-developed sense of self-preservation kicked in when he caught that dangerous glint in her eyes. 

“Yes - yes, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he sighed, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Whatever you want for dinner is good - I’m fine with the spaghetti squash.”

She was never so easily distracted. 

“What was so interesting?” she nodded his direction. “You’ve been glued to that thing all afternoon.”

Bucky’s shoulders dropped as he sighed, rounding the edge of the counters to approach her in the kitchen. Soft hands reached for her hips, reeling her in closer, sharing heat and heartbeats. The scent of his cologne drifted up on the air between them - spicy, warm, just subtle enough to remain sexy. He leaned in close and pressed his lisp to her forehead, devoted and sweet, and always properly apologetic. 

“I”m sorry, baby,” he said, squeezing her waist softly. “It’s just Steve-”

“Steve?” She looked up at him with a frown, neat little line forming between her brows. “Steve has been blowing up your phone?”

“Yeah, I know.” He shook his head. “It sounds like total bullshit, but I swear that’s all.”

“What’s going on with Steve?” 

Bucky sucked in a deep slow breath, hoping to hide his hesitation. Their “club business” had always taken first place, first priority…the job came first. The job was important. They were saving lives, putting away criminals. But now his girl was pouting at him in the kitchen, and he’s so tired, so goddamn tired all of a sudden - of all of it. Of being a public servant or a hero or whatever the hell. Of duty. He wants to pack it all up and just start driving. Move back to the city - or hell, even the suburbs would be nice. He’d take Y/N to Sunday dinner at his mom’s place; they’d move in together, and Y/N could decorate just how she wanted, and he’d sweat over rearranging the furniture and complain about trips to fuckin’ Ikea and all the other stuff that normal boyfriends got to do. In this moment, this inhale, he tasted it all, the life they could have. A dream they could build, together. 

And all he had to do was come clean. About all of it. 

In the space of an exhale, he faced it. He wanted this. It was on the tip of his tongue. 

And then the next breath. 

“Just club stuff,” he shrugged, feeling the weight of the lie dropping on her. “There’s…been a little drama between the members lately. Nothin’ for you to worry about.” 

With another kiss to her forehead, he turned away and opened the fridge. 

“I’ll put that spaghetti squash in this afternoon if you want me to,” he offered. “That way it’ll be ready when you get off work. Sound good?” 

Y/N nodded mutely, pressing her lips into a smile. She had to admit it was nice having a boyfriend who was mildly competent in the kitchen. 

“Okay, well, I’ve got to get in to the clinic,” she sighed, checking her watch. “Shit! I’ll be late.” Swinging her bag and lab coat over her shoulder, she gave him a final peck on the lips before bolting to the door. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Bucky called from the kitchen. 

“Too cold!” was her reply - and then she was out the door. 

Bucky stared at the closed door for a moment, one hip leaned against the counter, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. He just needed some time. Just a little more time to sort all this out. And then he’d tell her - the whole truth. Everything. And after, they could have a life together, something real, something safe, a home. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Steve again. 

Call me. Now.

Even as he rolled his eyes at Steve’s flare for the dramatic, a little tremor seized Bucky’s heart. Dread hovered in the back of his mind as he swiped his thumb and dialed Steve’s number. 

This could only go badly.

  **********                                                                                                  

One breath.

Inhale to exhale. That was how long it took for him to lie to her. 

Cold fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel, it was all she could think about. It scared the hell out of her, whatever it was he tried to hide in that breath, whatever he decided to keep from her. He’d never done that before…or had he? Did she know? Would she know? Would she be able to tell? 

Calm down, Y/N. You’re overreacting. She lectured herself, cranking the heat in her car to a higher setting. A top 40 song, thumping beat and repeated lyrics, hummed faintly on the radio; she was running late enough that the morning talk show had already ended, moving on to the daily shuffle of hits and local business commercials. It all went unheard in the worried circle of her thoughts. 

What could he have to hide? Unbidden, her mind flooded with horrible possibilities, every possible answer to that question, and each more horrible than the last. Was he cheating? Another woman was responsible for the constant barrage of text messages pinging his phone? Bucky was handsome, not to mention clever, flirtatious, romantic; she had no doubt he could get any woman he wanted. But his attention and affection for her hadn’t waned - just this weekend he’d planned a beautiful dinner for the two of them, followed by a homemade cheesecake he had slaved over for dessert, and then well…he was certainly still eager in the bedroom. The warning signs just weren’t there. 

So what else? He’d never been secretive about the club before. Avengers business was Avengers business, but he’d never lied to her about it. It turned her stomach sour, and she regretted having those pancakes this morning, the cloying smell of syrup still on her hands making her want to pull over and vomit on the side of the road. 

She knew she was working herself up, letting her mind run amuck, but she couldn’t stop herself. By the time she pulled her car into the parking lot of the clinic, she’d half made up her mind to turn right around, go home, and confront him. The image of herself, half-crazy with ideas of secret affairs or violence or drugs, marching into the house and accusing him of lying - it stopped her short.

God, why am I losing my shit over this? Y/N dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, the car idling in the lot, warm and safe from the harsh winter morning. She’d dealt with shitty men before, she’d survived bad boyfriends. It was impossible to make it very long as a woman without that experience. And yet, somehow, the memory of that paled in comparison to the devastating knowledge that Bucky was lying to her. 

You love him. Oh god, she did, she loved him - she was in love with him. 

She hurried out of the car and into the clinic, preferring to bury herself in wellness checks and vaccines and the flu than to keep thinking on it. 

    **********                                                                                                   

At the reception desk, Charlotte stopped her before she could get to her office.

“Oh! You’re needed at the county hospital today.” She handed Y/N the note, written on robin’s egg blue stationary. 

“I’m sorry? Why?” Y/N squinted at the note, a handwritten scribble. Charlotte shrugged. 

“No real explanation - but the chief surgeon said that they could use an extra set of hands with all the flu cases they’ve got coming in.” She took a sip from her travel mug. “I’ve heard they’re a little overwhelmed down there, since they’re the closest treatment for a lot of people in the county.” 

Y/N sighed, looking back out to her car. She hadn’t planned to drive the extra mileage out to the hospital today; not to mention it would probably make her late coming back for dinner tonight. Digging in her purse, she grabbed her phone and shot off a quick text to Bucky, explaining the change. 

“Alright then,” she huffed, placing her purse back on her shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you later.” 

With a wave to Charlotte and the other nurses, she was back out the door and heading to her car. This time around, she turned the radio up loud, singing along and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel and not thinking about this morning, or her own life, or anything at all. 

    **********                                                                                                   

At the hospital, she was assigned to make rounds for one of their physicians who had called in sick. Simple enough. The elevator ride up was quiet, new nurses and doctors all quiet and polite, but holding down their conversations in the presence of a stranger. 

She started on the third floor recovery ward, making her way down the hall door by door. Bedside manner was always one of her strengths; she could charm most patients with just a few words, breezing through her examinations and questions with ease. Chalk it up to customer service experience, but even the difficult patients usually treated her with gruff politeness, the insistence of her friendly manners forcing them to match with their own. Room by room, she checked charts and asked about pain levels and wrote prescriptions, the morning passing by in hours of sterile white tile and the smell of hand sanitizer. 

Turning a corner onto the next ward, she was just looking up from her clipboard when she caught a glimpse of a familiar shade of red ducking into a doorway. Y/N hurried her steps, her cadence almost a jog as she tried to catch-

“Natasha?” She knew that hair, the back of her jacket, the set of her shoulders. 

Nat was standing in the door of the hospital room, propping it open with one arm, head turned over her shoulder to stare at Y/N with weary eyes. Her face was pale, scrubbed clean of makeup, the bright baby hairs around her face twisting in tight little curls. At the sight of Y/N, she quirked the corner of her mouth up in an attempt at a smile, but it only managed to make her look more strained and exhausted. 

“What are you doing here?” Y/N went on when she didn’t get an answer. Her eyes cut past Natasha to the dim fluorescence of the room behind her. “Is everything okay?” 

Nat stared for another moment, her lips pressed tight together, jaw working back and forth. The hand she held on the door was curled in a small, tight fist, the peaks of her pale knuckles standing out against the long sleeve of her hoodie. Then, still silent, she stepped aside, gesturing for her friend to enter. 

“Come in,” she said hoarsely. “We need to talk.” 

[hyvemynd]

///DESIGNATION: HAMMERHEAD Mk XX ////ROLE: MOBILE WEAPONS PLATFORM ////NOTES: The Hammerhead Mk XX provides mobile heavy weapon support to mercenary squads. The hardpoint on its back mounts a number of weapons, and the built in jump jets means it will always be in position. Advanced targeting sensors ignore dust, darkness, and other visibility interferences and computer interface jacks allow it to hack security systems. ////BUILD NOTES: Despite being for the Rogue Stars skirmish game, this is just the Hammerhead I designed for Mobile Frame Zero. When I started putting together my NEXO Knights I saw I had a lot of blue and light grey pieces and wondered if I had enough to build a Hammerhead. I did. That little 1x1 plate with the lion insignia and the kite shield in blue sealed the deal. I really like how this game out. I still have to make jump jet nozzles for the "wings" on the side of the head and design a weapon. I've paid for a heavy blaster rifle in the game, and need to model something appropriately big.

[yodawgiheardyoulikemecha]

[alinopandino]

S.M4 Falcon B

MFZ adaptation freely inspired from the Armored Core serie. Soldier configuration.

6P scale.

[thehydromancer]

Lego Deathscythe, from Gundam Wing, scaled for playing Mobile Frame Zero: Rapid Attack. The buster shield is a little too big and shiny (not to mention using a tile only found in the Voltron set), but it gets the point across. The previous version was smaller and looked the part better, but lacked the beam blade (just no space!). Might revert back to the previous version and save this iteration for the Hell custom.

[fishing-exposed]

@Returnethtobase: One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Lego Pisces from Gundam Wing, scaled for Mobile Frame Zero: Rapid Attack, the tabletop game. Along with Cancer the Pisces completes OZ's aquatic lineup. Both have simple, but fun transformation mechanics. #mecha #legomech #mfz #mf0 #scifi https://t.co/3mkMiEj36e

[bryanharryrombough]

Snack Time by Raymond Bull Via Flickr: A Triceratops snacks on some trees. Designers Notes: The trees were built specifically for Mobile Frame Zero: Rapid Attack. The blog post with instructions can be found here.

[djregular]

Jamie Mckelvie (on Twitter) brought this to my Twitter TL earlier and it looks fun!