The prototype helmet sat on Sirius' bench like a crown forged for war. It wasn't polished or ceremonial. It was scarred with solder burns, smudged with oil, and humming faintly with the soft pulse of its HUD systems. The half-face visor gleamed faintly under the workshop lights, thin enough to leave the mouth and chin exposed but wide enough to project a clean overlay across the wearer's eyes.
For weeks Sirius had poured himself into it—skipping meals, losing track of time, half-laughing and half-muttering in that strange rhythm that made the other FAWS personnel both wary and amused. At last, though, every circuit was wired, every function tested, every sub-system stabilized. It was finished.
He exhaled and leaned back, wiping the grease off his fingers with a rag that was already blackened beyond saving. His grin stretched wide. "ARI, save everything. Every line of code, every calibration, every single one of her secrets. This baby's not staying just in my head."
> "Affirmative," ARI's crystalline voice replied, calm as always. "Compiling project data… saving to secure FAWS server. Mission status: complete. Reward unlocked: full-face optic helmet blueprint, telemetry firmware, payload icon sets."
Sirius chuckled, a low, pleased sound. "That's my girl. Always one step ahead."
He bundled the report into a neat package—diagrams, technical breakdowns, prototype footage—and transmitted it straight to Chief Loras' terminal.
Minutes later, across the FAWS complex, the old engineer sat hunched over his desk, rubbing his temples. He'd expected another one of Blake's "half-insane, half-miracle" proposals. What he received made his eyes widen until the tired lines of his face almost vanished.
"A half-face helmet…" he muttered, scrolling. "Integrated minimap… ammo counter synced… barrel temperature monitors for heavies? Built-in comms? Zoom optics?"
For a moment, silence. Then Loras leaned back, laughter rumbling out of his chest. "That damn boy. He's done it again."
Without hesitation, he slammed the transfer key. "Send this to High Command. Right now."
The files raced upward through encrypted lines, landing on the desks of generals and war council strategists.
Across the room, commanders gathered, scrolling in silence as the specifications loaded. It was almost comical: hardened officers of the Terran Defense Corps, men and women who had stared down three decades of Hivebug war, blinking like recruits as they saw what a corporal from FAWS had built in secret.
One general broke the silence first, slamming his palm against the table as he laughed. "Renegade Blake! Of course it's him. Who else would dream this up?"
Another shook his head with disbelief. "Every time he surprises us, I think: surely this is his limit. Then he throws something twice as insane and twice as brilliant in our laps."
A third leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Mass production. Approved immediately. Every soldier on the line is going to wear one of these."
And so the factories roared to life.
Within days, the barracks were alive with rumors. Men and women peeled open crates to reveal the new gear. Helmets gleamed in neat rows, each half-face visor glowing faintly with its HUD as soldiers slipped them on for the first time.
At first, disbelief.
"This shows… my ammo count?" a young rifleman whispered, tilting his head as the number flickered across his display.
"And a minimap? In my visor?" another muttered, touching the faint glowing outline of terrain rendered in green.
A heavy gunner barked a laugh, slapping the side of his helmet. "This thing tells me when my barrels are cooking? About damn time someone thought of us!"
Word spread like wildfire. The barracks echoed with one phrase again and again: Renegade Blake.
He had given them another miracle.
For a week, training revolved around the helmets. Soldiers drilled with new precision, learning to split attention between sightlines and HUD overlays. Squad leaders coordinated movements with minimaps, no longer blind to terrain or flanking routes. Gunners learned to throttle fire bursts when the barrel-temperature icon blinked red. Marksmen toggled between red-dot zoom-outs and three-times magnification, hitting weak points on Hivebugs with uncanny accuracy.
For once, training felt less like routine desperation and more like preparation for victory.
Sirius, of course, didn't stand apart. He trained alongside his friends: Jinx Alvarez, Stone Varga, Bear Ivanov, Whisper Kade, Sparks Novik, and Shade.
Jinx was the loudest, as always. He threw an arm around Sirius' shoulders, grinning as his visor flicked through zoom levels. "Renegade, you glorious maniac! I feel like I've got Hivebug eyes of my own. This is cheating."
Stone, slower to trust, adjusted his helmet with a grunt. "Efficient. Clear. Every soldier in my squad's going to drill weak-point targeting until it's second nature. With this? Ammunition will last twice as long."
Bear's mech integration synced perfectly with the new comms. His voice boomed through the channel, echoing across the yard. "Signal's clean. Range is stable. Blake, I swear, you've done more for our survival than half the generals sitting behind their maps."
Whisper smiled faintly, her visor glowing as she monitored her practice squad. "Medics can check ammo now. That means fewer men dying in the mud screaming for reloads. You just saved more lives than you'll ever know, Sirius."
Sparks fiddled with her visor, muttering under her breath. "Overcomplicated. Too many overlays. And yet…" She sighed, smirking despite herself. "Damn you, Blake. It works. It works too well."
Shade said nothing, as usual. He just lowered his visor, toggled the zoom, and fired three precise rounds at a dummy Hivebug target. Each shot hit a joint, not the carapace. He turned, visor reflecting faint light, and gave Sirius the smallest of nods. Approval enough.
Sirius laughed, loud and unrestrained. "Told you! I don't just build toys. I build survival."
> "Recognition confirmed," ARI whispered in his mind, steady and sure. "Renegade Blake has advanced to a new operational tier. Deployment status: pending."
For the rest of the week, FAWS was alive with talk. Techs adjusted their own helmets, shaking their heads at the genius who'd hidden the project for months. Soldiers trained harder, squads grew tighter, and for the first time in decades, there was real, unshakable belief that the Terrans weren't just surviving. They were winning.
And in every whisper, in every chuckle over mess hall trays, in every half-serious toast at night, one question lingered:
When will Renegade Blake step onto the battlefield?
Sirius, standing taller now, helmet in hand, only grinned when asked. "Soon. Very soon."
He had never been closer to the front line. His first deployment was coming.
And when it did, the Hivebugs wouldn't just face another soldier.
They would face the Renegade in the flesh.