Martian Warlord Pov:
The first thing Samantha learned, growing up on Mars, was that survival had nothing to do with fairness. It had everything to do with timing. And hers had just run out.
They used to say Cryse was a graveyard pretending to be a city. The rich stayed in sealed towers, the desperate rotted in the dust, and everyone in between lied about which side they were on.
Samantha never lied. She knew what she was. She was first another street rat playing with a title like 'warlord' thinking she was the shit like half of every person on Mars with a few men and a base on Mars.
She managed to build something and earned the worthless title of warlord. The kind built from rusted rifles, back-alley deals, and bodies no one came looking for. Still, despite knowing that, she liked the title and kept it.
Two hundred men. That's what she had carved out of nothing. Two hundred men who ate because she said so. Who lived because she made it possible. Who would die the second she failed.
Once, it had been more than just her.
Her and her brother. She still remembers him and his crazy ideas to this day.
"You're thinking too small." He used to say that all the time.
Back when they were kids, stealing scrap off transport wrecks. Back when "gang" meant six starving teenagers and a pipe gun that jammed every third shot.
"We can't stay small. Small gangs get absorbed or crushed, and we're better than that."
"And big doesn't?" she'd snort back.
"Big does the crushing. Basic physics." He always smiled when he said it, then annoyingly pet her like a dog. Like it was obvious. Like the world made sense.
It didn't.
Not the day he died.
Shot in the chest in some dust-blown settlement while trying to secure their first real contract. The kind that could've taken them from scavengers to something real.
He died in the sand for a future she had to build alone.
And she did, even though a part of her died that day. She knew it, felt it and didn't stop it. Even her own gang members called her ruthless like it was an insult. They didn't understand that it was the only reason any of them were still breathing.
Her base sat on the outskirts of Cryse, carved into old industrial ruins. Reinforced walls, watchtowers, and layered defences. Nothing fancy, but solid. It was also far enough away from the major city so that if anything happened, she would get early warnings.
For instance, when gangs and major crime syndicates in the city were getting absorbed or eradicated. Now, this happened all the time, but the rate at which it was happening was becoming concerning.
Two groups were involved. Pete's gang. She knew them, of course, from small dealings here and there, but they never struck her as a group that would rise this quickly. The other group, however, made more sense.
Tekkaden.
She heard about them as did the rest of Mars when they successfully protected that Burnstein princess the entire way to Earth and defeated Gjallahorn in battle, a previously thought impossible task.
The group of street brats hitting above their league. Good for them or whatever, but things got serious when they came back. She got news that they signed a deal with Chryse City to remove all the scum and rogues in and around the city.
"Some Martian brats get lucky, beat their little group into relevance and now they think they can clean the rest of us out."
That's what she thought until she realised something crucial. Something that turned that wishful thought to eradicate all the scum into an inevitability.
Mobile suits and just how powerful they were.
The group had multiple mobile suits. A rarity among, well, everyone that wasn't a mega corp or a well-off pirate of the stars. She could count how many groups in the region had mobile suits with two, maybe one hand and her group was unfortunately not part of that.
Still, she fortified her base and signed alliances with her neighbours for when those brats came after them. Spent damn near her whole savings on mobile workers and anti-armour weaponry, mines and anything that could protect her and for a moment, she believed it was enough.
As impressive as it was that a bunch of kids defeated the rich snobs calling themselves protectors of humanity, everyone knew that Gjallahorn wasn't nearly as powerful as they had been years ago. Corruption, infighting and a lack of real opportunity to keep their skills sharp meant that they would, of course, get their teeth kicked in.
In fact, it happened all the time on Mars. Just not at the scale the brats did it with that many cameras.
As the gangs and criminal organisations residing in the city ran out and the smarter ones left, the prepubescents began looking outward; she finally got a name leading this purge.
Darius Kingston.
The co-leader of the group of rats and someone doing more than just purging little gangs. Casinos and gambling dens where her men went to blow steam were now guarded by that self-obsessed prick's guards. Bars were the same. Black market arms dealers were being snatched up and disappearing. They now had to start buying grain from outside the region, as many agricultural plants were becoming Kingston-owned, affiliated or influenced.
Fucking Kingston Industries. How self-obsessed did you have to be to name your business after yourself?
A fucking asshole, that's who.
Anyway, she learned that he was either forcefully taking them over or acquiring them at dirt-low prices like the criminal he pretended not to be. Hell, he didn't even have to do much after a while. The fear of the forceful acquisition, or respect for both his involvement in Tekkaden's actions and his 'improving of the city', made many comply.
And guess what? No one is stopping him.
Bang!
A shot rang out close to her ears, nearly bursting her eardrums and causing a blaring ringing. When she could finally hear, the first thing she heard was the prick's sound of disappointment.
"Tsk, tsk. You weren't listening, were you?"
She spat right at the boy at the centre of her thoughts, the glob of spit only reaching his boot.
"Classy." He muttered, unimpressed, before kicking her in the stomach and rubbing his boot clean against her. He then called for a chair and sat in front of her, resting like they were in a bar having a big fat chat.
"I wanted to have a nice chat with you, yet you're being so rude."
"Fuck you, Kingston."
As much as she hated the boy in front of him, she felt more a hollow sadness than anything. Despite all her work, Tekkaden had walked in here like they owned the place. No matter the work, suits were fucking bullshit, and the tech level was too big a gap. They hadn't even seen them coming till they were right on top of them.
"Oh, you heard of me?" he asked, breaking her train of thought.
"Don't give me that bullshit. Everyone in this region knows of the prick strong-arming the local economy and purging anyone with even a sliver of chance to harm it."
He let out a low whistle before turning to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed man wearing what looked to be a high-tech military suit. " Steven, is this true?"
"Yes sir."
He turned to her with a genuine look of surprise. "Damn, I'm the big bad wolf here. Cool."
Was this really the boy who was fucking half everybody with a lick of power in the region? She couldn't see it. If anything, he seemed like a thick-headed pretty boy a noblewoman would keep as a pet, not a fucking ruthless killer.
" You know, Steven, I did think this was a little too easy. Are we just that good or am I really that big of a boogieman now?"
" We are a trained ex-Gjallahorn military force against some hillbillies with guns, sir, even if these ones were slightly better than the usual. Not to mention, the mobile suits make it much easier."
Kingston nodded, rubbing the little stubble on his chin, but her mind was sent reeling. Ex Gjallahorn?
Kingston seemed to have caught on to her surprise as he smirked at her. He leaned in close, whispering into her ear. " You didn't know? Gjallahorn is having a clearance sale on all Martian-born troops."
Clearance sale? What the hell was he on about? His smirk widened at her confusion as he continued.
" It's a bit of an insider trading type thing, and who you are does matter, but if you're in the know, you can get so many elite troops for the price of a free and safer Mars. Some even come with free equipment."
She soon realised what he meant, and her face paled at the thought. "Aren't you afraid of Gjallahorn retaliation?"
Despite Gjallahorn being less powerful than they were before, they were still Gjallahorn, and even if this brat defeated them once, if Gjallahorn really wanted someone dead, they would be dead.
Kingston merely burst out laughing, holding onto Steven's shoulder like she told the funniest joke. " Tell her Steven."
"Gjallahorn is in too much turmoil to care if a few colony rats leave their cages." the blond man bit out, the hatred clear for all to see.
That was when Kingston drew a combat knife and pointed it at her. "Anyway, since you're not looking to chat, might as well end things here. Tell the big man downstairs I say hi, Sammy."
" Wai-"
She didn't get to finish as he immediately slit her throat in one swift motion. She hit the ground, a blinding pain that was made worse by the fact that she could feel herself beginning to choke on her own blood.
"Clean this up. Kill half and send the other half to the mines. They knew the consequences of resistance and still chose the hard option," she heard even as her vision got darker.
Cries and pleas for mercy rang out as she heard her men being gunned down. The last sound she ever heard and her last thought weren't on the monster who killed her.
She could only see her brother, calling for her. At least she didn't have to suffer anymore.