The low hum of electronics filled the air, countless equipment checks being performed on everything ranging from auto-defenses, Ogre mechanics, and personal armor equipment.

My own armor clicked and whirred, a few upgrades having been set up by Reaper R&D to my specifications. I was no armorer or engineer, though I could moonlight as one with decency, giving me enough knowledge to know what I wanted and how it would need to look as a finished project. The nuances in getting there, though, I left to the professionals I had at hand.

Someone once said that leadership was just as much about delegation as it was about knowing what to say and do.

You could say that I took that to heart. The Legion was virtually a nation unto itself as this point.

That reflection took me aback for a moment amidst the toil and testing.

We’d built something truly large, here. Most of our power was centralized, our people united in our efforts against a familiar and common enemy. Our territory was stable, people fed, informed without the guise of a press seeking sensationalism. At some point, I realized, I’d built a place that I could call my own, feel at home in my own skin.

I pulled back on the grand vision that occurred to me, grounding myself firmly amidst the marshalling force I had around me.

Final checks performed, I stepped onto the platform embedded in Ogre's bay. Gentle but firm graspers clasped my back and shoulders, lifting me from beneath by a supporting brace against my lower back and down to my legs. Within moments, the whirring machines encased me in larger pieces of armor.

I’d had an opportunity to show my guests around and demonstrate our arms. Querax himself weighed in on the power armor I now wore, with no small amount of approval.

Angular plates flexed and moved, every limb a collection of twenty individual components that reached out and locked into one another, weaving together a stronger whole. Armor as black as obsidian but somehow reflecting a red visage in light clad my form, a veritable sheen that pulsed with red light running just beneath the protective layering of the surface. This was a half-step from being a mech, different from anything else I’d worn to date. We pushed the capabilities of my control to the edge, a machine far too complex for most computers to competently automate, and far too unwieldy for the average pilot.

In it, I stood at two and a half meters tall, towering over most people now. The form remained humanoid, thick arms concealing a variety of mechanisms, not the least of which being arm-blades and a pair of grappling talons. Broad shoulders bore mount-ready hard points, where smart weapons would be installed as we hit the road. Down my back I could feel the proto-spine of the unit flex, a combination of multi-columned dark-steel - the techies voted between that and nano-steel - with filaments of nano-weave fiber as fine as hair on its own, but with tensile strength far surpassing previous common earth steels of the old world.

Musculature linked together beneath the plates, making the entire process for the suit to fully boot up take an additional minute altogether. The trade off was worth it, though, as the suit became less like an exoskeleton, and more like having a second endoskeletal structure. When the senses of the mech linked to my own, that feeling only amplified.

I felt the rumble of the many small power units as they linked together, a pseudo-nervous system coming alive and talking to my own. Larger engine units on my pack flexed, but remained inactive beyond a general check for energy levels.

My personal power had increased dramatically with this upgrade, though I was hardly the only one. Many of the teams sported new technology, much of which was funded directly. By now, it wasn’t unusual for a Legion team to have an extended support team outside of their own members, though we ensured that monopolizing efforts was disallowed.

A large triple barrelled rifle rested on the wall, upgraded as well. The assault rifle looked positively immaculate, red running lights along the sides pulsed lightly to a steady rhythm. In a moment, it could transform, becoming a sniper rifle of devastating potency. Several ammo types had been added to the Legion’s stores in light of the numerous enemies we faced, and this weapon could take full advantage of those ammo types.

Other weapons lay upon the wall, and as the suit finished startup, more limbs began to affix them to my frame. Suddenly, it felt like the difference between standing naked in a storm and being sheltered warmly from it. The transformation bled into my senses, and I allowed a slight breath of relief through my lips at the sensation.

I stepped from the Ogre, noting idly that there were a number of Legionaries that paused in their idle talk as I appeared. A few whistled appreciatively, some that I knew more closely in passing clapped good-heartedly.

Just like that, the teams on the line began to marshall the rest of their gear, many stepping out with upgrades. It was, admittedly, a friendly boasting moment when Daniel’s mech was released from another vehicle beside me, a repurposed mobile command bay, the sole inhabitant of the rig. The behemoth truly embodied the Dreadnought class that he bore, no longer merely tanky and brimming with fairly mundane - if effective - weaponry. The Dauntless was the first officially named mech in the Legion’s mechanized core, and it bore the name proudly.

Shade would no longer remotely be capable of lifting it. Truly alien technology had been implemented, a not insignificant portion from the Obelisk itself. Daniel had found that his class allowed him special shop access, but apparently it came with something mine did not.

His options had updated, specifically a gift package that was discounted fairly heavily. Even so, it nearly drained his considerable Matter Energy stores to afford the upgrade, assembly, armaments, and backup pieces.

It stood, its steps somehow not only dimmed, but not even creating cracks in the ground. Given that the thing was nearing eight meters tall, this was no small feat. As far as mechs went, this was the largest we had. Not even an Ogre could hold all of the mass, hence the need for us to completely retrofit a mobile command vehicle for the task. The Dauntless would be our answer to larger targets, equipped with a heavy bore vulcan bolter that fired slugs that would tear even our own previous main-line mechs to pieces on impact. The less destructive option was actually a particle beam weapon, both of which were shoulder mounted. Small point defense options were available, but likely unnecessary.

A sheen of purple light flared for a moment before dimming to nearly nothing, the only sign of the hard-light barrier Dauntless supported. It moved, lighter than it should have been in the first place and carefully balancing on broad platform legs.

There were a few other upgrades, and I took quick note of the others as they emerged from their own respective locations nearby.

Fran was literally bearing a halo behind her, a broad ring that was three meters in diameter. The silver and blue of her armor shone brightly, a graceful kind of elegance from her power armor as she lightly floated on air. Six pairs of wings extended from around the ring itself, no parts actually touching one another. Upon closer inspection, a second interior ring presented itself, this one bulkier than the exterior ring. It spun counter to the outer ring, moving perfectly in time with it. Some of the feathers were far longer as well, sharp and clearly meant for more than just stabbing. Likewise, there were a collection of feathers that were small, little more than daggers, and yet shone brilliantly with some kind of in-built battery.

Terry’s mech was the same as I’d seen it the day before, a more refined version of his old design. It was sleek, and the lower half of the body bore protruding ion-platforms the buzzed silently, no longer arcing electricity at random. I likened it more to a centaur, without the actual legs. From the lower half it extended back like a lightning caterpillar, another three meters of robust machinery, no doubt the generator capable of feeding his many high power weapons.

The tinkerer had created truly heavy weaponry, field control and electrical destruction were now firmly his domain. So much so that someone in the galaxy had taken notice.

He’d gained a class, perhaps amusingly enough named after something not so unfamiliar.

Raijin.

Though, he did abstain from calling himself Raijin, citing that it was too narcissistic, even for his tastes.

Oddly enough, his class gave little to him that he didn’t already have. Though, high-capacity batteries that didn’t decay were an incredibly powerful technology that was available, one that he abused thoroughly.

Alice and Richard walked out together, both appearing more outfitted with power-armor, albeit a much sleeker and advanced version. At this point, there was little to no reason to go in mesh armor or exo-skeletons alone. Anything you could want a mesh or exo-suit for, a full power armor could give and more.

This was illustrated by Alice, whose armor reminded me almost of a deer, broad, seemingly antler like protrusions swept back regally from her crown. Sensors were embedded within them, more so than even my own. Her bow was now joined by shard-throwers, a collection of small ports that could eject projectiles at incredible speed from the emerald-shimmering back compartment on her suit. Her flexibility and speed for maneuvering would be beyond reproach, her legs bearing motorized stilts that could project her at incredible speeds, not just for bursts, but for sustained sprees. Grappling barbs and two pairs of additional limbs could protrude, assisting in the motions.

Her mobility was such that the suit itself would constrict her body to prevent her from passing out.

Richard was less mobile, but far harder to detect. His suit bore nanites, and I found that the man had taken cellular destruction to an artform. An angular, subtly vicious design met my eyes as he walked forward, longer limbs than a humanoid mech ought to have flexing with more joints than was normal. He prowled more than walked, three appendages sprouting from the machine gently swaying behind him. One from the tailbone, one from the middle back, and the final from the base of the head, each one tipped with a sickly pale stinger. His sides bore two extra sets of arms, though none looked any different than his primary set. From his description, each of the extra long limbs could bring to bear envenomed claws and launchers for longer-range strikes.

Out of all of our hardware, Richards bore the most hidden weapons and settings. If he didn’t want to be detected, only Alice would have a chance at finding him.

And only because we didn’t know how to shield from psionics.

We came together, Alpha Team at the ready, flanked by the new Iron Chariots and the resolute force that was Last Call.

“Lookin’ good,” Jeremy gave an appreciative whistle as he looked us all up and down, “color me impressed.”

“You too, I didn’t know that the rail-guns were done yet,” I nodded at the Gunslinger’s own accompaniment respectfully. He grinned, his power armor shorter than mine, but bearing four pistol-like weapons. Some general under the surface upgrades had taken place, but he’d pushed his weapons to the limit. After the battle in Argedwall, we’d found that Jeremy had also found himself in the exclusive arms of a Class.

One that seemed to be challenging him to greater feats of marksmanship, especially with handguns.

Which was why his mechs arms were now much larger at the wrist and up to the elbow than before, much more suited to absorbing the impact of firing a rail-cannon.

To the other side, Lilia Bertholdt had reconsolidated the team, and after a brief retreat from the Legion’s attention, came roaring back with truly devastating designs. Lilia lacked the sheer zeal that Patrick had as the team leader, but in his absence she’d become a stalwart successor. Her imagination had grown by leaps and bounds, and her team had no shortage of crazy or innovative ideas to try out.

It was, seeing them again, difficult to know which had won out in the end.

Lilia’s mech bore broad, crystal filled weapons, some that seemed to refract light in ways that almost made it seem like a small sun was trapped within. Her mech was, for all other purposes, fairly ordinary.

“Looking forward to your new recruits?” She asked with a mild grin, “we’ve got a pretty good batch ourselves.”

Jeremy gave a hesitant chuckle, “we’ll have an interesting time of it. Seems to me that our greenhorns might be a little nihilistic, this time around.”

“I’m confident that they’ll perform,” I stated certainly, thinking back to the gauntlet and how well Phalanx Gamma had done.

Lilia gave a shrug, “we’ll see. I personally wouldn’t be surprised if they were off tempo at first. It’ll be the first time a lot of them are out in the field, maybe their first time in front of a real biotic.”

“Those simulations are disgustingly good. I wouldn’t count anyone out on that front,” Jeremy reminded her, to which she nodded.

“Yeah, but if there’s anything I’ve learned over the years, it’s that nobody really knows how they’ll do when the curtains open. Even the best freeze up, but the best can pick it up and roll with it.” She smiled, “what I want are people who can do that - pick up and roll with the punches as they come.”

I nodded, though couldn’t help but think that anyone freezing at this stage would probably be at risk to be torn apart. She didn’t need that warning, though, we all knew the risks. Her predeccessor and friend was evidence enough to that point.

“Here they come now,” I brought attention to the approaching vehicles, a collection of Ogres that would shortly disgorge their own passengers. “Time to work. Good luck, you two.”

“Likewise, Reaper,” Jeremy nodded cooly.

Lilia waved over her shoulder genially, “later, Matt.”

Shortly, I would be welcoming dozens of new Legionaries into my teams.

“When the curtains open, huh?” I was eager to see how Phalanx Gamma would deal with the real world.