Mecha Is the Romance of Men

"I've got an idea," Tony Stark declared with characteristic nonchalance as he casually patted the waist of his armor. Glancing down, he noticed that his suit—ever impressive and unmistakably high-tech—lacked even a business card. "I'm thinking maybe you two might be interested in a gig at Stark Industries. Trust me, the salary will knock your socks off. As CEO, I'm always on the lookout for outstanding bodyguards."

Nate Locke, leaning back with a wry smile, shrugged nonchalantly. "If the money's right, count me in," he replied, his tone cool as ever. In his mind, Nate considered the practicality of it: if he hadn't yet activated his cheat system for summoning enhanced aides—or "slaves" as the system cheekily called them—it might be a good idea to cash in on a steady paycheck. After all, once you've tasted that kind of power and seen the world from a vantage point far above ordinary mortals, even a corporate offer carries a certain appeal.

"But," Tony continued, "you should know where to find me. Just keep an eye on the news—my face is everywhere." His tone was teasing, a reminder that he was not only a billionaire genius but also a symbol of hope and audacity to millions. "We're just a couple of guys with some very special abilities. If you can't handle palladium poisoning or don't want to be my minions, no worries—we'll just keep chatting."

Nate shot a sidelong glance at Quinn Maxwell, who stood a few paces away with an inscrutable expression. Before Tony could vanish into the skyline on one of his repulsor-powered flights, Nate called out, "Hey, Tony—can you get in touch with Agent Colson for us? I know you've got his number."

"Sure thing," Tony replied breezily as he launched himself skyward, leaving the two operatives to their plans. "I'll be around," he added, his tone light as if he were off to deliver a pizza rather than saving the world.

Nate and Quinn exchanged knowing looks. "Let's hang tight here," Nate said. "The Hydra situation will eventually become S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headache. Meanwhile, I'll sort out our identity issues and then maybe rent a high-end apartment to chill out with a copy of my system running in the background." These were Nate's plans—a mix of subterfuge and sheer opportunism. Thanks to his cheat system, he didn't have to follow the traditional plotlines. Even low-level draws in the system could net him U.S. dollars, meaning there was no need for a day job. In moments of downtime, he could simply relax—like a certified couch potato—despite the toll it might take on his liver.

"Do you think there'll ever be any real activities in this system?" Quinn asked, his tone laced with bemusement.

"Even if you ask me, I don't know," Nate admitted. Quinn's eyes, always alert and probing, regarded him carefully. "You seem to adapt quickly to all this madness," Quinn observed.

Nate laughed softly and pointed to his head. "Maybe it's because I've always refused to believe that fantasy is just fantasy. Today's events felt too… real. It's like I'm suddenly part of the inner circle of society's elite."

"How do grown men cope with this level of absurdity?" Quinn mused, his tone half-admiring, half-puzzled.

Before Nate could answer, a crisp metallic sound shattered the moment. "What—what's that?" Nate gasped, fixing his eyes in shock. A gleaming golden bullet hovered inches from the back of his head, poised to end him in an instant if not for a timely intervention.

"It's a sniper," Quinn announced, his eyes narrowing as he activated his clairvoyance. "Wait—they might have accomplices."

In a heartbeat, Nate grabbed hold of Quinn, who was about to teleport away. At that very moment, two soft shots rang out—sniper bullets fired in rapid succession from different angles. "Get to that corner over there, now!" Nate shouted, and he and Quinn sprinted toward the nearest rooftop edge, ducking behind a stack of abandoned crates and concrete debris. In the hidden blind spot, they pressed close together, scanning the area with Quinn's augmented vision.

"They're not just one or two," Quinn said through gritted teeth. "I count at least a dozen snipers, nearly a hundred henchmen, and some heavy weaponry. Unlike that lone assassin we encountered earlier, these guys look like organized gangsters." Even though Nate was currently at Level 2, his extraordinary abilities meant that ordinary men and weapons posed little threat to him—yet protecting himself and his team was proving far more challenging than expected.

Nate's mind raced as he tried to piece together the situation. "I haven't even been here a day, and these goons are attacking like they're in a war zone. What's going on?" he wondered aloud. Other adventurers and bystanders were equally baffled by the sudden ferocity of the assault. It wasn't just random chaos; someone high up was orchestrating this frenzy.

"Look," Quinn pointed to a figure slumped against the wall—a captured Hydra killer. "One of those sniper bullets was aimed right at him. That's got to be it!"

A flash of insight struck Nate like a bolt of lightning. According to the storyline he'd pieced together from his system's data logs, Hydra should still be lurking in the shadows. The car accident from earlier might have been nothing more than a test. But here, Quinn had already nabbed a prisoner—a Hydra assassin, no less. If S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top brass got wind that Hydra—a group presumed defunct decades ago—was still active, it would trigger a full-scale investigation. The enemy's true objective, then, was likely this Hydra killer. Their plan was to silence him and erase any evidence linking them to the notorious gang.

"Are you thinking of handing him over?" Nate asked, his tone low and determined.

"Not a chance," Quinn replied firmly. Nate quickly accessed his system and pulled up his digital backpack. His eyes narrowed as he selected a particularly powerful defensive weapon—the one item aside from Quinn's own gear that he had managed to obtain after ten consecutive high-level draws: the Mirage Tower.

The Mirage Tower, originally hailing from the rebellious realm of Lelouch, was heralded as the ultimate mecha—the strongest war machine ever built by its eponymous protagonist. Equipped with a Druid system and an absolute guardian domain, its defensive capabilities were on par with competition-level tech, and it boasted a full-fledged flight system.

"Take this out," Nate ordered, "It's bound to be useful later." He tapped a few commands on his interface. "Listen, Quinn—I'm not a pushover. I'm here to carve out our place in this crazy world. Once I show my strength, the enemy will think twice before acting rashly. This is for our 'salted fish life'—our laid-back way of living despite everything!"

Quinn grunted, a mixture of reluctance and duty in his tone. "Alright, if you say so. I'd rather just live the life of an ordinary guy, but I made my promise."

Before Nate could continue, a harsh whistling sound tore through the air. A rocket slammed into the very spot where the two had taken shelter. Boom! Amid a violent explosion, billowing smoke and fire surged upward. Through the chaos, a giant machine burst from the rubble and ascended rapidly into the sky.

The mech's design was awe-inspiring: a main chassis of matte black interlaced with golden armor at the joints, its tall, slender frame exuding an aura of untamed coolness. The Mirage Tower was more than just a tool—it was a statement.

"Hahaha! Mecha really is the romance of men!" Nate roared with laughter, his heart pounding with exhilaration. As he climbed into the cockpit and gripped the controller and keyboard, he felt a surge of ambition and fighting spirit wash over him. The controls were intuitive—a rush of familiarity hit him, as though every maneuver had been pre-programmed into his muscle memory. Although he was still in the early stages of his upgrade, the Mirage Tower was designed for high-intensity defense and heavy weapon strikes.

"Hey, what's that?" someone shouted from below.

"Nah, it's just something falling off," another voice replied.

"Run!" a terrified scream rang out as onlookers realized that debris—concrete, shattered glass, even chunks of steel—was raining down from above. Even an egg dropped from several hundred feet could become a deadly projectile under these conditions.

Yet, the Mirage Tower was not one to be caught off guard. With a graceful yet aggressive maneuver, it turned sharply in mid-air and descended rapidly toward the ground. "Luminous, activate the absolute defense field!" Nate commanded, his voice ringing clear over the chaos. In an instant, the mech's systems flared with neon-pink energy as a radiant shield enveloped the craft, deflecting falling wreckage and enemy fire alike.

Amid the roar of explosions, the rapid-fire commands of the digital interface, and the sheer determination pulsing through every fiber of his being, Nate felt that he had transcended the ordinary. This was no longer just a drill in a simulated fantasy—it was an all-out battle where reality and simulation blurred together. Every moment, every decision, could mean the difference between survival and oblivion.

As Nate maneuvered the Mirage Tower through the urban warzone, he couldn't help but relish the thrill of combat. The mecha wasn't merely a machine—it was a symbol of human resilience and audacity. With every heavy volley of missiles and every pulse of the defensive shield, he asserted his will against forces determined to overwhelm him.

Inside the cockpit, tactical readouts and enemy positions flashed across the heads-up display. Nate's fingers danced over the controls as he calculated the best escape route, dodging enemy snipers and weaving through crumbling debris. "Agent Colson is en route," his system notified him. Even as the Hydra assassin's fate hung in the balance, Nate knew that backup was on the way—even if it might complicate matters further.

Quinn's telepathic voice broke through the comm link. "I'm tracking enemy movement, Nate. There are still a dozen snipers repositioning and nearly a hundred henchmen moving in with heavy weaponry. Stay alert."

"Understood," Nate replied steadily. "We can't afford to slip up now. Let's hold our position until I signal extraction." His resolve was as unyielding as the neon-pink shield that surrounded the Mirage Tower.

As the battle raged, Nate's mind wandered momentarily back to Tony Stark's earlier offer—a life of corporate luxury at Stark Industries. But here, in the heart of this digital maelstrom, he was more than just an employee or a sidekick. He was a warrior carving his own destiny, armed with technology and unbreakable will.

A sudden alert flashed on the digital dashboard: "Mission update: Hydra assassin status critical. Immediate extraction recommended upon target neutralization." Nate's eyes narrowed as he processed the data. The enemy's true objective was clear—they were determined to eliminate any evidence that could link them to Hydra.

"No way I'm letting them use us as pawns," Nate muttered fiercely. "We handle our own business." He adjusted the Mirage Tower's trajectory, redirecting it toward a secondary extraction point marked on his digital map. "Agent Colson, you're our backup. Hold tight until I give the word."

Quinn's voice was calm, yet resolute: "I'm keeping an eye on everything, Nate. We're not out of the woods yet."

Nate allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction as he felt the Mirage Tower's powerful engines propel him forward. "Mecha really is the romance of men," he mused quietly, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he recalled the simple, raw joy of piloting such a magnificent machine. To him, the mecha was not just a weapon—it was an extension of his very spirit, a manifestation of his ambition to rise above the chaos.

The enemy's snipers began repositioning again, and Nate's pulse quickened. With deft precision, he activated the Mirage Tower's heavy cannons. A volley of missiles erupted, slicing through the enemy ranks and sending shockwaves through the urban battlefield. The explosions rocked the surroundings, and for an instant, Nate felt as if he could conquer the world.

Even in the midst of triumph, he knew the battle was far from over. Organized, ruthless, and determined, the enemy was not about to let him—and by extension, the Hydra assassin—slip away without a fight. Every decision was a calculated risk, each maneuver a test of both machine and man.

As dusk turned the skyline into a canvas of deep oranges and purples, the Mirage Tower soared past ruined skyscrapers and shattered streets. Nate's mind was laser-focused: every command, every surge of energy, was a step closer to neutralizing the enemy and unraveling the mystery behind Hydra's lingering presence. The romance of the mecha was more than just adrenaline—it was the promise of a future where one man's determination could defy even the darkest of conspiracies.

In that transformative moment, Nate Locke wasn't simply a man with extraordinary abilities and a cheat system. He was a leader, a warrior who had taken control of his destiny with every pulse of the Mirage Tower's core. With Quinn's silent support resonating through their telepathic link and the unyielding spirit of technology at his command, Nate knew he was ready for whatever the night would bring.

And so, as the neon-pink shield pulsed around him and the sounds of battle raged in the distance, Nate steeled himself for the final push. In a realm where mecha wasn't just a machine but the very embodiment of the human spirit, he embraced the chaos with a fierce grin. For in this digital crucible—where reality bent, and legends were born—the romance of the mecha was the romance of men: raw, defiant, and utterly unbreakable.