The prototype sat on the table like a relic from another world. Its matte-black frame gleamed under the fluorescent lights of the FAWS workshop. The weapon didn't look extraordinary to the untrained eye, but to Chief Engineer Loras, it was more than just a tool. It was possibility.
Beside it lay two items that seemed almost comically small: the micro mag and the micro slug. The mag barely took up space in his palm, yet it promised more capacity than any current clip in circulation. The slug inside was tiny, sleek, designed to slide seamlessly into the compact chamber.
Loras adjusted his coat and glanced around the workshop. FAWS techs whispered, still buzzing from Sirius' demonstration earlier that day. A few shook their heads in disbelief, others muttered the nickname that had begun echoing through every corner of the military:
"Renegade Blake."
Sirius himself wasn't even present. After hours of tinkering and testing, the young corporal had left the weapons bay humming to himself, grinning as if he had just discovered fire. Now he was sprawled across his bunk, boots still on, half-snoring. His toolbelt rested on the chair nearby, a screwdriver dangling loosely from one pocket.
For all his brilliance, Blake never seemed to grasp the scale of what he had just created.
---
The March to Command
"Secure the prototype," Loras ordered, voice firm. Two FAWS specialists carefully lifted the Carbine X and its attachments into a reinforced case, locking the latches with biometric seals.
The chief motioned for his escort squad. They moved quickly through the HQ corridors, past saluting soldiers and murmuring officers. Everyone stared at the case, whispers rising like smoke.
Is that it? The Renegade's weapon?
They say it reloads itself—spits out empty mags like shells.
If that's true, this could change everything.
Loras ignored the chatter, though a small, proud smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He reached the heavily guarded elevator to the command tier. After clearance and multiple scans, the doors opened.
Inside, the air was heavier, colder. This was where the war was directed—not in sweat-soaked trenches, but in rooms filled with maps, data screens, and voices that could alter the course of battles with a single order.
---
The Presentation
High Command was already assembled. Generals, colonels, and senior analysts stood around a glowing tactical table. The air was thick with fatigue and unspoken urgency.
"Chief Engineer Loras," the presiding general said, eyes narrowing. "You requested priority audience. This had better be important."
Loras gestured to the case. "It is. With your permission."
At a nod, the case hissed open. The Carbine X, the micro mags, and the slugs gleamed under the sterile white lights. A murmur rippled through the officers.
"This is the work of one of my specialists," Loras began. "Corporal Sirius Blake. Known among the ranks as… Renegade Blake."
The name earned raised eyebrows and a few muttered chuckles. But when Loras continued, no one laughed.
"This system combines four breakthroughs:
1. The Micro Mag — smaller than current clips, but with increased capacity. Soldiers can carry three times the ammo with the same weight.
2. The Micro Slug — compact, stable, and versatile. Designed for precision, penetration, and adaptability in the field.
3. Weapon Retrofit Protocol — all light weapons, from rifles to carbines, can be adapted to fit the new mags and slugs. Minimal downtime.
4. Automatic Ejection — when a mag empties, it ejects instantly. Soldiers no longer lose seconds fumbling during reloads. Efficiency increases by over 40%."
He let the words hang.
Silence followed. Generals exchanged looks. One colonel leaned forward, picking up the micro mag between two fingers like fragile glass.
"This tiny thing carries more capacity than a full clip?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes, sir," Loras replied. "And it reduces overall weapon weight. Imagine the mobility this grants to frontline infantry."
The general at the head of the table spoke slowly, carefully. "And you're telling me… a corporal designed this?"
"Yes, sir. Under my command. Blake is unconventional, eccentric, and often insufferable… but his genius cannot be denied. He solved the ammunition crisis our troops have faced for months—perhaps years."
---
Shock and Recognition
The impact was immediate. The room came alive with chatter.
"If this is true, casualties from slow reloads will plummet."
"Our soldiers could hold longer per engagement."
"This could shift entire strategies. Mobile units wouldn't be tethered to supply lines as tightly."
"Renegade Blake…" another officer muttered. "The name fits."
For the first time, High Command didn't dismiss the whispers. They embraced them. A folk hero, born not from the trenches but from a workbench.
The presiding general leaned forward, hands clasped. "Begin mass production immediately. Divert resources if necessary. I want prototypes issued to test squads within seventy-two hours. Then, expand distribution across every frontline on Vetra-9."
He paused, eyes narrowing on Loras. "And as for this Blake… keep him where he is. Do not move him. Do not parade him. He is too valuable to risk in the open. But make sure he knows… the war just shifted because of him."
---
Back at the Barracks
Hours later, long after the meeting had adjourned and orders for mass production had been relayed across the base, Sirius Blake remained asleep in his bunk.
He snored softly, one arm flung across his chest, the other dangling over the edge. His hair stuck up at odd angles. ARI's faint glow hovered in his vision, unreadable to anyone but him.
> "Sirius," ARI whispered in his mind, though he stirred only faintly, "your prototype has been secured. High Command is mobilizing resources for mass production. Your impact is… significant."
He mumbled something incoherent, then rolled over. His lips curved into a faint grin, as if his subconscious had caught the edge of the news.
> "Do you not wish to know the details?" ARI asked softly.
Sirius' breathing deepened again. He was out cold.
---
The Return of Loras
By the time Chief Engineer Loras returned to the FAWS workshop, dawn was bleeding through the upper viewports. His boots echoed on the floor as he entered, weary but resolute. Every eye in the department turned toward him.
"Well?" one technician asked. "What did they say?"
Loras allowed himself the rarest of smiles. "Mass production. Immediate. Blake's design is no longer just a prototype—it's the future of our arsenal."
A cheer rippled through the room. Some clapped, others shouted, and more than a few glanced toward Sirius' empty workstation.
"Where is he?" someone asked.
A younger tech smirked. "Sleeping, probably. Like nothing happened."
Loras chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Of course he is. That boy will never change."
His eyes softened, though his voice remained steady. "But make no mistake… Renegade Blake has changed the war."