I’ll be the Red Ranger

- Oliver -

"Ladies and gentlemen," the android's voice resonated. "Let us start our auction."

As the android's announcement echoed throughout the grand hall, the attendees began to make their way to their seats. Unfortunately for Oliver and Hector, their seats were near the back of the auditorium—perhaps a subtle reminder of their last-minute registration or their perceived lack of importance in such elite circles.

"We will begin with the more common items and save the crown jewel for the finale," the android continued, offering a conspiratorial wink to the audience as if sharing a secret.

"To start, we have the construction and manufacturing plans for the Hexo Mech 1. One of the earliest mechs developed, its main distinction lies in the fact that it still utilizes Helium-3 as its fuel source, allowing for a more accessible alternative to the Z Crystal."

The android's polished voice carried an air of persuasion, attempting to convince the crowd of the item's worth.

Oliver felt his attention slipping, his interest waning. Knowing that without a Z Crystal, the mech's power would be a mere ten percent of a model using one, he doubted its practical utility.

‘Perhaps it's for researchers or just enthusiasts,’ he mused silently.

Meanwhile, his eyes roamed over the crowd below, scanning for any clues or details that might hint at agents from the Sixth Division or his rival Rangers. But it was difficult; with many attendees likely using synthetic disguises and unable to risk using [Prometheus], Oliver felt his frustration mounting.

The first bid rang out, "One hundred thousand credits," snapping Oliver's attention back to the auction. Three seats below Oliver, an older gentleman, his hair completely white, raised his hand.

"Two hundred thousand credits," another hand shot up. This time, a woman of apparent high status, clad in a long red gown, entered the bidding.

As the two initiated the battle of bids, others quickly joined the fray. The atmosphere in the hall grew charged with each incremental offer, murmurs rippling through the crowd. Oliver watched as paddles were raised and lowered in a rhythmic dance of wealth and desire.

"One million three hundred thousand credits," the auctioneer declared. Finally, after this staggering bid, the competitors seemed to relent, conceding the schematics to the determined buyer.

‘Unbelievable!’ Oliver thought, astonished by the exorbitant price. He had never imagined that schematics could command such fortunes. ‘I could just use [Insight] and sell some myself,’ he mused.

The thought of exploiting his Boon for profit made his mouth water slightly. The sheer amount of money he could earn was intoxicating. However, reality quickly tempered his excitement. ‘But… how would I create a schematic? And even if I did, how would I explain how I obtained it? Who would believe me?’

The android auctioneer's voice pulled him from his reverie. "With the first item successfully sold, we will now proceed to the next lot," it announced with a hint of anticipation. "This one is a bit more… exotic."

‘Exotic?’ Oliver raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. He watched as a team of service robots wheeled a massive container to the center of the stage. The container was draped in a heavy cloth, concealing its contents from the eager eyes of the audience.

The android presenter moved to the side of the container, gripping the edge of the covering. It whisked the cloth away with a dramatic flourish, revealing what lay beneath.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Behind reinforced bars stood a group of Orks, their grayish skin gleaming under the stage lights. Each stood tall and imposing, entirely unclothed save for a thin metallic collar around their necks. Their eyes burned with a mix of fury and defiance.

"Lot B," the android began, its synthetic voice unwavering. "We present ten Orks captured during the Tenth Wave. Six males and four females. All are in excellent condition and equipped with control collars for your convenience. They are suitable for entertainment purposes or research."

A murmur spread among the attendees, a mixture of fascination and unease. Oliver felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The stark display of sentient beings presented as merchandise was deeply unsettling.

Suddenly, one of the Orks, a towering figure with scars etched across his muscular physique, stepped forward. Gripping the bars with massive hands, he bellowed, the force of his voice causing the very floor to vibrate. "CURSED COWARDS!" he roared. Though the audience heard only guttural snarls, Oliver understood every word. "They will come for me, you wretches!"

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The audience, oblivious to the specifics, seemed momentarily stunned by the outburst.

Silence hung heavily in the air before being shattered by a voice from the crowd. "One million credits!" someone called out.

"Two million!" another immediately countered.

"Ten million!" a third bidder exclaimed, igniting a frenzy.

The battle for ownership intensified rapidly. Hands shot up across the grand hall, each bid higher than the last. Others tapped furiously on their gauntlets, likely contacting financial advisors or securing last-minute funds. The atmosphere crackled with urgent excitement and ruthless determination.

Oliver watched in disbelief as the numbers soared. The commodification of living beings troubled him deeply, but he was also keenly aware of the undercurrents at play. These Orks weren't just rare; they were symbols, trophies from a brutal war.

"Lot sold for fifty million credits," the android confirmed, its synthetic voice echoing through the opulent hall.

‘Isn't this a crime? Even if it's not considered slavery, wouldn't this be dangerous for the Empire?’ Oliver pondered, but there was no one he could ask to confirm his suspicions.

Following that controversial lot, several others were auctioned off. Weapons, exotic creatures, and even Z Crystals were sold to the eager crowd. The night wore on, and as it reached its peak, the true target of Oliver's mission was unveiled.

"Now, for our final lot!" the android announced, a hint of excitement in its otherwise measured tone. "This is perhaps the most daring piece we have here tonight."

At the center of the stage, a hologram flickered to life, revealing a mech unlike any Oliver had ever seen. It was entirely white, its armor sleek and streamlined. Even without a closer look, Oliver could tell it was an exceptionally advanced design, something beyond anything he'd encountered.

Emblazoned on the mech's arm was the marking 'XG-Ω,' and on its chest was some sort of apparatus whose purpose he could only guess.

‘Isn't that a schematic of an NEA mech? How on earth did they get this?’ Oliver's mind raced.

"These are the incomplete schematics of the most formidable weapon developed by the New Earth Army," the android explained. "Used during the Battle of Olympus against Mordred. Though incomplete, these schematics will allow you to enhance and research cutting-edge technology."

‘This is why it can't fall into the Lot's hands. Worse yet, we need to get our hands on whoever is selling this,’ Oliver thought, his concern deepening.

But before the first bid could be announced to the crowd, a characteristic hiss sounded in Oliver's earpiece.

"Immediate evacuation! All agents present must leave at once," the alert crackled in his ear. There was no way Oliver could simply stand up and leave. "Remember, using your armor is prohibited; no one can know there's a covert operation."

"Orks are approaching Cygnus; the attack is set to begin at any moment." As the transmission ended, the first explosion reverberated through the hall.

Panic rippled through the audience as the luxurious chamber shuddered. The chandeliers swayed, and the holographic mech flickered before vanishing. The once orderly auction erupted into chaos.

"What's happening?" someone shouted, panic edging their voice.

Some attendees rushed toward the expansive windows that lined the far wall, their faces pale as they pressed against the glass to peer outside.

Seizing the momentary distraction, Oliver rose swiftly from his seat. This was the opening he needed.

More explosions thundered across the cityscape, each shockwave reverberating through the hotel's frame. The windows rattled with each blast, and through them, the horrifying spectacle unfolded: dozens of Ork ships breaching the city's defenses, their jagged silhouettes darting between towering skyscrapers. Gigantic missiles being launched from the ships, indiscriminately striking buildings and sending plumes of smoke billowing into the night sky.

Panic erupted.

"Run! Immediate evacuation!" a security officer bellowed, his voice barely audible over the screams.

"To the basement! It's safer there!" another directed.

"My god, how did the Orks get here?!" a woman screamed, clutching her pearls as if they might offer some protection.

Oliver's gaze snapped to Hector. Without hesitation, he grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him away from the chaos consuming the auction hall. "Hector, we need to get the hell out of here," he urged, already moving toward the exit.

Hector's eyes were wide with disbelief. "Cassius, what's going on? This can't be happening!"

"We have no time to waste," Oliver replied tersely.

They pushed through the frantic crowd, the hall's opulence now a confusing maze of overturned chairs and discarded auction paddles. The grandeur of the event had evaporated, replaced by sheer terror.

Bursting into a side corridor, they raced toward the emergency stairs. Alarms blared overhead, the shrill sounds mingling with distant screams and the unceasing rumble of destruction. The air smelled of smoke and ozone.

As they reached the heavy door leading to the stairwell, Oliver shoved it open with his shoulder. "This way!"

They stepped onto the landing, but before they could descend, a gut-wrenching sensation of weightlessness hit them. The floor lurched beneath their feet, and a deep, ominous groan echoed through the building's core.

Oliver felt the blood drain from his face. "Oh no…"

The building shuddered violently, and the lights flickered before plunging into semi-darkness, lit only by the red glow of emergency indicators. The stairwell's concrete walls cracked, and hairline fractures spider-webbed outward.

"Hector, hold on!" Oliver shouted, grabbing the railing with one hand while clutching Hector's arm with the other. The entire hotel was tilting, the angle becoming more pronounced by the second.

A deafening explosion rocked the foundation, and the stairwell seemed to detach. The steps beneath them dissolved into empty space, and for a terrifying moment, they were suspended in mid-air.

The building had been hit.