When Sirius woke that morning, his HUD blinked alive with a quiet chime. Two mission windows opened in the corner of his vision, pale blue against the dim light of the barracks.
> Mission Log: Active
Mission 1: Carbine X Upgrade — Fire Discipline & Adaptation
Objective: Improve Carbine X efficiency and battlefield adaptability for swarm engagements.
Sub-Mission 1: Develop burst-limiter firmware (3–5 round pull). → Pending
Sub-Mission 2: Integrate ammo-type switching system (normal ↔ AP slugs). → Pending
Sub-Mission 3: Install recoil dampener module. → Pending
Mission 2: ECHO — Child AI
Objective: Develop a support-class AI to coordinate troops, stabilize systems, and counter Hive psychic disruptions.
Sub-Mission 1: Draft neural core schematics. → Pending
Sub-Mission 2: Implement soldier-integration protocols (HUD sync, comm resilience). → Pending
Sub-Mission 3: Develop adaptive counter-psi filters. → Pending
Sub-Mission 4: Field-test with FAWS squad oversight. → Pending
Sirius blinked, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. "Two babies at once. Hah. No wonder everyone thinks I'm insane."
He accepted both, ignoring the faint protest that flickered in the corner of his HUD about mission load integrity. Rules had always been suggestions in his mind.
Carbine X was the steady path, the natural evolution of his first great weapon. Everyone expected it, everyone understood it. But ECHO… oh, ECHO was different. Just seeing the mission parameters made his blood rush.
"This one," he whispered, "this one changes everything."
The next morning, the FAWS workshop was buzzing with tired chatter and clattering tools. The Carbine X upgrades had consumed them for weeks. Even with Sirius stepping back to "supervise" rather than build, the workload was crushing. Many were still muttering about Renegade's grin, about the way he'd laughed when he dumped the schematics in their laps.
"Feels like we've been cursed," one technician groaned, hefting a mag loader onto a bench.
"Cursed? More like enslaved," another replied, though he smirked. "But if his madness saves lives, I'll take the chains."
When Sirius finally walked in, the whole room seemed to tense. The Renegade had been quieter in recent weeks — haunted, even — but last night something changed. His steps had a spring again, his grin gleamed like polished steel. He carried himself with the unmistakable air of a man who had found a new toy.
And that terrified everyone.
Chief Loras was already there, leaning against the central table, arms folded. He gave Sirius a long, weary look. "You've got that face again. I don't like that face."
"Oh, you'll love this one," Sirius said brightly, twirling a datapad between his fingers. "You're gonna love it so much, Chief, you'll lose your hair. Oh wait." He winked.
Loras pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gods save me."
Sirius clapped his hands together, drawing the attention of the room. Sparks, Whisper, and several other FAWS personnel looked up from their benches. Even the ones trying to avoid him couldn't resist. Renegade announcements were like storms — dangerous, unavoidable, and impossible to ignore.
"Gather 'round, my baby makers!" Sirius bellowed. "Because daddy's got news."
Half the room groaned. The other half went still.
"This better not be another damn cannon," one muttered under his breath.
"Or a helmet that makes us blind instead of helping," another added.
Sirius grinned wider, enjoying the nerves he stirred. "No, no, no. Bigger than that. This one isn't about steel or bullets or optics. This one's about brains."
A ripple of unease swept the workshop. Brains? Nobody liked when Sirius talked like that.
He slapped the datapad onto the main table, projecting a holo into the air. Lines of code, half-finished schematics, neural models. Nothing anyone there had seen before.
"Meet ECHO," Sirius said, almost reverently. "My next baby."
Silence.
A junior tech whispered, "Is that… code?"
Another muttered, "Looks like… AI matrices."
The word cut through the crowd like a blade. AI.
Loras stiffened. His voice was low, dangerous. "Blake. What the hell are you playing at?"
Sirius leaned forward, both palms flat on the table. His grin didn't falter, though his eyes burned with conviction. "I'm playing at survival. You've seen what the Hive Queen's psychic waves can do. They tear through systems, fry our HUDs, turn our soldiers into blind fools in seconds. You want to beat that? We need something smarter than hardware. We need ECHO."
Whisper, standing at the back with arms crossed, frowned deeply. "Explain. Now."
Sirius spun the holo, highlighting segments of code. "ECHO is an AI. Not like ARI—" he caught himself, almost slipping, then covered smoothly. "Not hidden, not locked away. This one will be out in the open. Public. Soldiers will know it, trust it, fight beside it. ECHO will coordinate, stabilize, guide — when our systems crash, when the Queen screams, when the swarm hits harder than ever."
The workshop erupted.
"You're insane!" a tech barked.
"An AI in open use? That's suicide!"
"They banned full-scale AIs decades ago!"
"Renegade's finally lost it!"
Sirius only laughed, louder, sharper, throwing his head back. "Yes! That's the sound of fear! Good! Fear means you understand just how powerful this will be!"
"Or how dangerous," Loras growled. He stepped forward, stabbing a finger toward the holo. "Do you have any idea what High Command will do if you put this in front of them? They'll burn you alive, Blake. AI projects were buried for a reason."
Sirius tilted his head, still grinning, but his voice softened with unusual seriousness. "And what reason is that, Chief? Fear. Politics. Control. They didn't trust it. Didn't trust us. But the Hive doesn't care about politics. The Hive doesn't play by our rules. You saw what happened when the Queen screamed. Everything died — comms, turrets, helmets. You want to survive the next wave? You need ECHO."
The room went silent again. Not out of agreement, but out of grim recognition. They all remembered those days. The silence on the radios. The way soldiers had fired blind into the dark until their mags ran dry. The way medics had screamed for help that never came.
Whisper's gaze softened, just slightly. She didn't approve, not yet, but she understood.
One of the older engineers shook his head. "Even if you're right, even if we need it… building something like that isn't just coding. It's years of work."
Sirius' grin widened, feral. "Years for normal people. Months for me."
Groans rippled through the crowd. Someone muttered, "Gods, he believes it."
Sirius slammed a fist onto the table. "You think I'm joking? You think I can't do this? Look around you! Carbine X. Shatterstorm. The optics helmet. Every single one of those was impossible — until I made it real. And now you all build them, use them, live because of them. Why should ECHO be any different?"
The silence this time was heavier. No one dared answer. Because they all knew the truth: Renegade Blake had made the impossible real before.
Finally, Loras exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging. "Blake… if I take this to the Council, they'll skin me alive."
Sirius leaned closer, his eyes glittering with manic glee. "Then don't. Let them find out when it's too late to stop me. When ECHO's already saving lives. Let them curse my name if they want. As long as the soldiers live."
The workshop murmured again, this time less fear, more conflicted curiosity. Some looked horrified. Others looked… intrigued.
Whisper finally stepped forward, her tone quiet but firm. "You really think you can control it? That it won't turn on us?"
Sirius met her gaze. His grin faltered into something rawer, deeper. "I don't want to control it. I want to raise it. Teach it. Guide it. Like… like my father guided me. Like…" His voice broke for a heartbeat, then steadied. "ECHO won't just be a machine. It'll be family. And family doesn't betray you."
The holo shimmered between them, lines of code glowing like veins of light.
Loras finally sat down, rubbing his face with both hands. "Gods above. This is going to be more trouble than any cannon you've ever built."
Sirius' grin returned, sharp as a blade. "Exactly. That's why it'll work."
And for the first time, some of the FAWS personnel chuckled. Not the laughter of mockery, but the nervous kind — the kind that says we're already doomed, so why not follow him into hell again?
The legend of Renegade Blake grew another layer that day.
Because now, it wasn't just weapons.
It was ECHO.