#you’d be doing yourselves (and me let’s not kid anyone) a huuuge favor

[carnivorousmossbeast]

Have a smol flavorshot. Couldn’t sleep last night so I did the mech suit/dystopia/sci-fi thing. Enjoy!!

2000 tons of carbon fiber enforced steel and titanium plates stand before him, staring down at him. Somewhere in there, he knows, is a beating heart keeping the eyes so alert and posture straight. There is a conscience in there. An awareness. Intelligent life. 80 meters tall, five meters wide encased in enough protective material to build four underground shelters. And even then, sometimes the pilots die. Normally he’d have some qualms about enslaving living beings but since no one really knows what the Weidmanns are, only that after they arrived everything started going to shit, he’s hard pressed to find anything more serious and founded to say against it.

Zoro pilots one of the older ones, one that came with a name and wasn’t grown in a lab. The swirly heart on the chest plate and weird face-thingy on the back shield and DEATH spelled across its heavily armored knuckles apparently came with the Weidmann and it didn’t work until someone thought to transfer the weird designs onto the armor. Sometimes it’s a bit touchy, Trafalgar D. Water Law, but it’s yet to fail Zoro. Or earth and humanity, for that matter. And Torao, how Zoro’s predecessor Luffy liked to call the Weidmann, seems to be oddly fixated on the green-haired pilot.

For example it won’t shut down if Zoro is close by.

The World Defense Council would rather play it as though the Weidmanns are machines, not creatures forced into submission by running so much electricity through their brains that they became effectively zombies, because obviously that is seven kinds of wrong, but Torao ruined that notion when Zoro entered the picture.

The first time Zoro’s in the command panel there’s abnormally high latent brain activity. Back then the technicians called it a power surge but to Zoro it had felt different from the power surges during sims. Because the pilots are put through what essentially is torture to be sure that they have it in them to steer a Weidmann. Some bullshit about neurological overstimulation. Now he knows that sometimes, the Weidmanns wake up and devour the humans that enter their spinal canal. And fighting Kaiju while keeping, essentially other Kaiju, under control, is a task in and of itself. That explains why the command panel is designed the same way landing modules are. They’re nigh impossible to break. As though the massive armoring wasn’t protection enough. Zoro soon learns the hard way that, only because the Weidmanns help, they are not allies. Not even close. He watches a pilot lose control over the neural bridge, watches the Weidmann gain its consciousness through the eyes of Torao. It’s quick, but ugly. Sometimes he still hears the screams of his comrade turning into static as he watches helplessly how Mihawk tears the control panel out of his spinal canal and crushes it in his massive fist before dropping it into the ocean carelessly. He remembers a rumbling purr of satisfaction coming from Torao’s conscience. The next two Kaiju attacks he doesn’t let himself sink as deep into the neural bridge as he normally does, even if the soft, warm whisper of Torao is oddly comforting normally. Not then.

Primal fear dictates he remain at the surface, barely submerged enough to feel the long, insanely strong limbs. These Kaiju he doesn't slice apart with the ridiculously long sword Torao's been outfitted with. He brawls, because so close to the surface, so barely there, he lacks the fine motor control to properly wield a 70-meter longs word with electrical currents running down the blade that has teeth running up and down like a chainsaw.

Kikoku is a masterpiece of engineering. Someone really did their research for effective weaponry - and ended up choosing Texas Chainsaw Massacre as reference. Sharknado as well. Perhaps Sharknado is more fitting, since the Kaiju appear from somewhere deep within the Pacific Ocean. They're not sharks, nowhere close, with their huge legs and claws and less than aerodynamic bodies, but a terror from the ocean none the less.

The next Kaiju is one of the strongest yet.

Zoro knows without Kikoku he hasn't the slightest chance to get past its long, leathery winged arms that sport massive claws, or the insanely long tail that has a bone structure at the end of it that Zoro takes one short look at and knows, painfully aware of the implications for his neural bridge - he'll have to go in deep this time - that one hit will smash through Torao's armor like a wrecking ball through a massive wall of reinforced concrete. It will take the entire Weidmann down and damage it beyond repair.

There are two other Weidmanns running point, "got your six, Zoro" crackles Ace's voice through the comms. Boa Hancock is arguably the prettiest out of all the Weidmann, and Ace is definitely the prettiest pilot. And the fucker knows it. But Ace also knows his stuff and is one of most well known pilots. Most drops, but not the most kills. Ace is happy to run point and let others take the kill. Boa Hancock isn't strong, it heavily relies on others and teamwork isn't quite Zoro's strength. Especially not in the Weidmann. But then again, few people are good at teamwork when their attack and defense is directly tied to a 70-meter monstrosity of titanium with a serrated running blade and coated in 4000 Volts of electricity. The other Weidmann is Sir Crocodile, among the heaviest defense humanity has, and the pilot is the most cryptic bitch ever.

In her presence Zoro always gets a distinct feeling like he's the butt of a joke that only she understands. Nico Robin the strangest out of the bunch. Except she really isn't. They're all weird in the Tokyo Shatterdome.

But then again you have to be somewhat messed up in the head to even be considered for pilot training.

He takes a deep breath before sinking into the neural bridge. Torao's consciousness envelopes him like warm, summer air, smelling softly like heat and sweat and sleepiness in the shade of a tree. He's in deeper than he was with the last two Kaiju, deeper than the WDC says is green, but not where he used to go. Torao and him, they used to synch. Zoro would leave the dock being submerged at the green levels and slowly slip in deeper once the control and directing electrodes were off.

He'd be pulled from Torao the instant he crossed over the yellow into the orange line, and where he goes is deep, dark red.

Rumor has it that once you're past yellow, you start becoming part of the Weidmann. The general public is fed a pretty tale of too much neurological input and synaptic overload but the ugly truth is - you're waking the beast. You're lending your tiny, insignificant brain for them to regain their consciousness and that fries you. Only Torao has never truly been gone. It's the one Weidmann they couldn't really tame and eventually it burned through all its pilots.

Zoro sees the charts stabilizing, the brainwaves lining up sort of on top of each other, enough that he'll be able to move Torao without getting consumed. Or overpowered, torn out and crushed. He relays his data to command and gets the go. Transfer out to the ocean is oddly silent. Torao is unusually still and Zoro doesn't like it. Something is off.

They land, knees slightly bent and hands at the hilt of Kikoku, and then they wait. The Kaiju is moving towards Tokyo, but it's taking its time. While its predecessors have always taken the most direct approach, this one circles around, tests their patience. Tense silence rules between the three monsters humanity tamed to defeat their unknown enemy, with only crackling updates on how far away the monster lurks. Little crackles of static in the silence. Zoro could probably hear a pin drop if he were to unlock his helmet. Even the ocean is deceptively calm.

Zoro thinks he can see movement at the horizon, thinks he can feel a tingle of excitement, adrenaline, rushing through his veins, but he's too deep in the Weidmann to still feel his body like that. Zoro frowns. Now is not the time.

The Kaiju rears out of the water like a monster straight out of old Japanese Kaiju-movies. It's ugly, with thick leathery skin and glowing green eyes, a maw full of crooked teeth, and the leathery skin flaps attached to its arms make a good imitation of wings. He draws Kikoku and readies himself, only to be hopelessly overpowered by the monstrous creature. He forgets about the tail, sees it a moment too late and can only narrowly avoid being hit by the bone club at the end of it. The long appendage hits the Weidmann around the middle and topples him over into the ocean. Alarmed red lights blink in his peripheral vision, damage assessment is still running when the Kaiju descends on the downed Weidmann again. Zoro can hear himself growl - something isn't right he shouldn't be able to hear himself - and yanks up his arm to protect the face.

A new alarm starts blaring when the neural bridge starts to disconnect. Zoro curses up a storm and tries to disengage the neural input dampening systems that are supposed to keep the pilot from experiencing the damage. The pain of being torn apart. The Kaiju shrieks over the still body, the sound shattering through the Weidmann's massive body armor and the command pod and Zoro hears a massive growl in return. And then Torao moves. Zoro isn't in deep enough to be initiating the movement, so this is all the consciousness he's been hijacking for the last two years. Zoro slams his hands against the emergency eject panel, the weapons panels, anything really, that he can reach without disengaging the pilot safety straps. A whole lot of nothing.

He growls. It's not that he's afraid to die, because he dropped that particular piece of humanity the first time he stepped foot in a drop sim, and thoroughly erased the idea of fear when he made his first kill as the backup pilot for Mihawk, it's just that Zoro really hates the idea of not being able to put up a fight.

There's a click and a whirring noise and Zoro finally feels himself sinking deeper into the neural bridge. He stops where he is comfortable, where he went before he witnessed Mihawk tearing the command pod out of his spinal canal. There's a growl rumbling in his - no, in Torao's chest - and a very sudden yank on his mind. Zoro feels like he stumbles and for a second everything is numb and dead, and then it feels like he slips into his body, only that his body is suddenly unfathomably huge and strong. He can feel the bruised organs and muscles of his - Torao's - abdomen, the tingling in the fingertips where the insulating coat doesn't quite manage to keep 4000 Volts on their side of Kikoku's blade.

Zoro hesitates for a moment and suddenly there's a voice echoing through his mind: "Zoro-ya... Didn't take you for a coward."