The morning light over FAWS headquarters was harsh, cutting through the narrow workshop windows like blades. Sirius Blake strode toward Chief Loras' office with a data pad tucked under his arm, his grin already creeping in place. The pad contained his latest schematics—an upgrade package for the Carbine X that could reshape frontline engagements once again.
Loras looked up from his desk as Sirius entered, his brows lowering into the stern, skeptical frown that had become habit whenever Blake showed up uninvited.
"What now, Blake?" Loras asked, voice already tired.
Without a word, Sirius lifted the data pad and waggled it slightly in the air like bait before a predator.
Loras reached instinctively for it. "Let me see."
Sirius pulled it back with a playful dodge. "Ah-ah. Not yet, Chief. We'll get there, but first…" His grin stretched wider, eyes glinting with something equal parts mischief and madness. "…I need you. And everyone else. Only FAWS. Close the shop."
Loras' expression hardened. "Confidential?"
"You could say that," Sirius replied, voice almost sing-song. He chuckled under his breath, and the sound made the hairs on the back of Loras' neck rise.
The chief sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But if this turns into another one of your circus acts, Blake, you'll be the one cleaning up the mess."
---
Minutes later, alarms buzzed through the calibration bays. "Attention: all FAWS personnel, report to the central floor. Workshop will be closed until further notice."
The sound alone was enough to spark rumors. Techs glanced at one another as they filed in, whispering.
"What's this about?"
"Renegade again. It's always Renegade."
"Think it's another weapon? Or a warning?"
"Maybe he blew something up again…"
By the time everyone gathered, the air was thick with tension. The clang of boots, the hiss of pneumatic doors, the buzz of half-suppressed chatter—it all died as Loras and Sirius stepped into view.
Loras raised his hand for silence. "I've called you here because Sirius requested a meeting. Only us. No one else."
A tech in the crowd muttered, "Even you, Chief?"
"Yes," Loras said evenly, then turned toward Sirius.
The young corporal stepped forward slowly, smiling as though he stood before an audience of eager apprentices rather than a wary mob of hardened technicians. His eyes darted across the room, studying each face. Every time his gaze lingered, shoulders stiffened and whispers hissed.
Sirius chuckled softly. "Here it is. My baby maker."
A shiver rippled through the room.
He lifted the data pad high. "The schematics of the Carbine X upgrade. Burst-limiter firmware, ammo switching, recoil dampener—the works. The next step in our little war against the bugs."
The crowd leaned in. Despite themselves, interest sparked behind the fear.
Sirius' smile widened. "Now, I know some of you have been wondering what I've been doing. What schemes I've been cooking up while I laugh and mutter to myself." He chuckled again, deliberately this time. "Well, here's your answer."
The holo display flickered to life, schematics blooming in the air above him—barrels, circuitry, new magazine feeds, recoil absorbers. The Carbine X, reborn.
Loras' jaw dropped. "Blake… you can't mean—"
"I do," Sirius cut him off. His voice sharpened. "I will not be making this alone. All of you—every last one of you—will be working the upgrade. I'll give you pointers, nudges, sparks when you stall. But the work?" His grin turned wolfish. "The work is yours."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then Sirius threw back his head and laughed—wild, manic, echoing through the chamber like gunfire. "Rejoice, my friends! My new baby makers… are all of you! HAHAHAHA!"
The sound was infectious in the worst way. Techs shifted uneasily. Some chuckled nervously, then stopped when others glared. But slowly, like a sickness spreading, the laughter grew. First giggles, then louder chuckles, then ragged, uncomfortable barks of amusement.
It was less joy and more contagion—like Sirius' madness had reached out and touched them, dragging them into his orbit.
To anyone watching from the outside, it looked like a curse.
Loras' eyes went wide. He pressed a palm to his forehead, muttering under his breath. "This is going to be more trouble than I can handle…"
---
That night, the whispers spread faster than grease fire.
"Did you hear what he called us? Baby makers."
"Renegade Blake's lost it for sure."
"No—don't you get it? He's giving us the power. He's… he's making us part of it."
"Or he's dragging us down into his madness."
In the mess, techs huddled over trays, voices lowered but urgent.
"He looked at us like… like we were parts in one of his weapons."
"Every time he looks at us like that, something insane happens. What if this time it's us?"
"Wouldn't be the worst thing. His insanity saves lives."
By the end of the meal, the phrase "Renegade's curse" had stuck. Some used it as a joke. Others whispered it like a warning.
---
Meanwhile, Sirius sat at his bench, the data pad glowing faintly at his side. He scribbled notes onto scraps of paper, refining firmware ideas, laughing softly to himself.
For a moment, his hand paused. His gaze drifted toward the empty corner of the workshop where his friends once stood.
Jinx would've laughed with him, probably slapped him on the back for calling the FAWS "baby makers." Stone would've grunted about discipline. Whisper would've called him reckless and dragged him off for a head-check. Shade would've said nothing but smirked in his own way. Bear would've just asked when he could strap the thing onto his mech. Sparks would've wanted first crack at the wiring.
But they weren't here.
One by one, they'd been recalled to their departments. Jinx back to rapid assault drills. Stone to heavy infantry formations. Bear to the mechanized corps. Whisper drowning in the medbay's constant stream of casualties. Shade out scouting Hivebug burrows in the ashlands. Sparks buried in weapons systems, calibrating for the next mass deployment.
They were fighting their own wars.
And Sirius? He had FAWS.
The grin returned to his face, sharper than before. He tapped the Carbine X gently, almost affectionately. "Guess it's just me and you now, baby. But don't worry… we've got a whole nest of makers to keep you company."
His chuckle echoed through the empty bay, bouncing off steel walls like the promise of storms to come.
---
Meanwhile, in his office, Loras stared down at the copy of the schematics Sirius had finally handed over. His hands clenched the data pad tight. The upgrades were brilliant, insane, necessary.
But all he could think of was the look in his personnel's eyes when Sirius called them baby makers—the mix of horror, fascination, and laughter.
He rubbed his temples. "Renegade Blake, you'll either win this war… or burn us all in the process."