Hello and welcome (finally) to this extra little bit of NaB! Don't forget, physical copies available through Amazon! Whoop! And now, a quick rundown of what to expect:

- Stories related to characters and events in the world of mercs and mods.

- Extremely variable chapter lengths. I'm talking 300 words one week, 5000 the next.

- Erratic uploading. It will always be on a Thursday, but not every Thursday.

- Characters who are not real people, for once.

- Fun times.

- Not fun times.

- Basically anything really.

I urge you to say what you'd like to see in this series, because chances are that I won't think of something until you ask for it. This is a very request-based series. Heck, might even get some guest stars (read: writers) for all you know...

Anyway, on with the show!


[[ Episode 1 ]]

_._._.D.A.

Sneaking out of the Common was remarkably easy, facilitated by Gubiak's lack of interaction when opening doors. The carpet softened her footfalls to nothing as she slinked past benches and tables toward the lift, though since no one was awake to hear them in the first place that feature was somewhat redundant.

Hatter should have been sleeping, like everyone else. Her body felt utterly leaden and under normal circumstances that would have had her out within seconds of lying down but instead her rest was fitful, reaching the very edge of unconsciousness before she was hit with the sickening sensation of falling through the mattress and rushed with a fresh shot of adrenaline. A few times she had found her arms automatically outstretched as if seeking a lifeline, someone to catch her, but then it felt more like she was the one trying to stop someone else from falling. Then she remembered where she was, then what happened, then she felt nauseous again. After numerous futile attempts to sleep Hatter finally just got up and decided to leave.

"Fuck," she muttered to herself as the lift hurried her down to her destination, running a hand through her mussed hair as it fell into her eyes. There was no hat on her head and her clothes were beginning to stick to her skin now that she'd fallen asleep (almost) in them for two nights in a row. Her brain dimly registered the fact that she probably appeared a complete mess but it also knew that where she was going nobody was going to care what she looked like or whether she had slept enough or eaten enough. None of it mattered.

Hatter lurched out of the lift when it hit Ground Level, her boots striking the concrete with harsh precision as she made her way to the exit which, contrary to several regulations and laws but not an uncommon occurrence, was left completely open. Once outside she headed due north, her presence dampened by the Mist allowing her to pass six other scrapers undisturbed. To everyone else there she was just as unremarkable as the next person, the only thing truly setting her apart from them being her ability to traverse through the sea wall between District 2 and 3. She didn't know if Gubiak was capable of logging her access there but didn't really care.

The mercenary's pace finally faltered as she neared the base of 3 W and the odd outlines of ramshackle buildings began to make themselves known through the dark, intermittent at first but rapidly increasing in number the more she walked. In her impatience she had forgotten about the Town in this District, by far one of the largest in the city though no definitive headcount had been made upon it (since any data collected would be outdated within the month). Hatter actively started to pay more attention to her surroundings and could already feel a significant increase in the number of curious eyes upon her, the inhabitants recognising her as an outsider even if not as a moderator. As a precaution she removed the mercenary badge from her coat so as not to be questioned about her purpose for visiting the community of Ground-dwellers.

Hatter aligned her all too clear memory with the structures in her surrounding to navigate exactly where she wanted to go. The buildings became sturdier the closer to the centre of Town she got and a semblance of streets formed in an almost real display of civilisation; settlements like these arose when groups – often families – formed a coherent truce for long enough that it actually attracted others toward them simply because the location was one of the safest places to be. It didn't change the fact that most Towns were broken within 5 years, but the one here had defeated the odds and continued to exist for longer than Hatter had lived. It would take a concerted effort to tear it down now.

The sudden biting stench of sterilising agents alerted Hatter to something out of place in the environment and within seconds of searching for the source she spotted an area cordoned off with tape that had been painted with red stripes. She frowned, stalking over to it and finding a clear section of concrete covered in some kind of fluid patterned with the tracks of a mop or something similar.

"Hey!" a voice snapped as Hatter was in the middle of lifting the tape to go under and investigate the scene. "Don't you understand what the line means? Do not cross." The mercenary released the barrier and turned to face the scowling girl who had jumped up from her chair. The bottom half of her face was obscured by a makeshift cloth mask and her waved hair was held tightly out of the way by a combination of hair ties. Despite her annoyed expression the girl's voice was undercut with a natural sweetness that lent itself to her facial features. Her eyebrow arched in question as gloved arms crossed, making Hatter realised she hadn't yet replied.

"What happened here?" the mod asked, part of her already putting together the pieces and not actually wanting to know.

"Wow, where have you been?" The girl rolled her eyes. "Had a Jumper."

Hatter's stomach dropped. This was about the right place, but surely there would be more trace of it given that only a few hours had passed. "When?" she asked hesitantly.

"This afternoon."

"What? There's no way the police had enough time to check it out!"

The girl's frown returned, heavier than last time. "Hey," she said, pointing at herself, "do you know my name?"

"Huh?"

"Thought not. You're not from around here, are you?" She sighed. "No offence, but maybe you should do some research before passing through Enfield. If people know you're an outsider then someone's going to take advantage of you eventually. I'm Robyn, by the way; you?"

"Ha-" The mercenary hesitated. This girl seemed fine enough but one could never tell, and besides, it was without doubt that if anyone learnt that 'Hatter' was in the Town then someone would get some stupid ideas about putting her in her place. "Morgan," she answered instead.

Robyn nodded in acceptance. "I would shake your hand but…" She indicated to her gloves in explanation. "I'm guessing you come from the scrapers, right? Well I'm afraid it's just not possible to abide by your rules down here. If we left a Jumper out long enough for the police to investigate then you can bet someone here is going to get ill; there's just too much risk of an epidemic, so we get rid of the bodies as quick as possible. Burn what we can, then clean the area. I'm just leaving the disinfectants to sit for a bit."

Hatter stared at the slick ground for a little while, fighting against the rising bile in her throat as she attempted to build up enough willpower to ask the necessary question. "What… What did the Jumper look like?"

What was visible of Robyn's face displayed her perplexion but she answered anyway. "I only caught a glimpse when they removed the body but it was a girl I think, long dark hair. Couldn't make out any features, what with… you know..." She mimed a splat motion.

Hatter couldn't breathe. She felt sick. Her eyes kept travelling back to the cordoned area and her brain unhelpfully transposed an image of Kia's prone body lying askew on the concrete surrounded by red that reached up the wall of the scraper and staining the ground permanently-

The mercenary tore her gaze away with such force that it hurt her neck, inhaling far too rapidly. Despite trying to push it to the back of her brain the disgusting image her mind had created stubbornly sat at the forefront of her thoughts and didn't seem like it was going anywhere, though the effect of it was lessened when she didn't actually look at the spot it had happened. Knowing that the sterilisers on the floor were, at that very moment, dissolving the last traces of Kia away was beyond unsettling.

"You okay?" Robyn asked, her concerned voice cutting through the fog that was clinging to Hatter's concentration. It took a moment for her to settle herself enough to reply.

"Yeah… yeah…"

The girl didn't seem convinced but she just shrugged. "Well, it's not like it's any of my business; I've got to finish up here, so if you're just passing through then maybe you should continue with that."

Hatter nodded absently, turning to go back the exact way she had come in just a distracted state as before.

She was tired now.


"Hatter."

"Mmh."

"Are you listening?"

The mercenary blinked and looked over at Leni's questioning face. "Yes."

"Really?" The scepticism was heavy in her voice. "Honestly, Hatter, you've been way too out of it lately. Is something wrong?" The slight narrowing of her eyes suggested she had already decided that there was, indeed, 'something wrong' and what the problem actually was.

The mercenary shrugged. "I'm fine," she replied; it wasn't a lie, but she wasn't sure it was entirely true either. Her answer was met with silence and an unconvinced, inquisitorial stare from Leni. Eventually the prime minister sighed and reached into the inner pocket of her suit blazer to pull out a small white rectangle, holding it out. Hatter took it hesitantly, the pulp smooth under her fingers and she turned it over to read a name and contact information printed in crisp black ink on the other side. "What is this?" she queried, part of her having an idea already.

"Someone you can speak to," Leni answered nonchalantly, briefly thanking her PA as they returned with the bottle of water she'd requested earlier, "if you ever feel like talking."

"I don't need this." Hatter frowned, trying to hand the business card back.

"Maybe not yet. But keep it." Seeing the look on the mercenary's face, she appended, "That's an order."

When Leni turned away again Hatter allowed herself to glare momentarily before resigning herself and tucking the card away into one of the pockets of her bandoliers, doubting she would ever remember it was there.


Something crunched underfoot as Hatter stepped into the room and she immediately moved back to ascertain what she had trodden on, relieved to see that it had already been broken before her arrival. Whatever it had once been (an ornament, maybe?) the ceramic was so shattered that there was no salvaging it and she felt less guilty about any further damage done. Hatter put it out of her mind and moved further into the space which was lit through the power of every pre-contained lamp and a couple of extra spotlights to allow the host of historians and their assistants to marvel over the finds without fear of casting too deep a shadow on the fine details. Invisible boundaries cordoned off sections of the room so as to maintain order between museum representatives, everyone taking it in turns to claim what they had been designated in each zone. Vibrantly coloured labels speckled the scene, corresponding to crates surrounded by packing material ready to cradle the artefacts in safety as they were transported to a more appropriate location than the bedroom of a criminal.

A few people glanced up in curiosity as Hatter entered the space that had until recently belonged to Rvlakia, but were rapidly distracted again by the girl's collection. Hatter even noted one tutting over the chipped state of a partially polished half-rock. Remnants of chaos were still visible throughout the room, little hints that not everyone who'd visited had enjoyed their momentary stay. The thought of Mez's face swaddled in white bandages slowly dyed red made the mercenary's stomach flip and she turned away from the reminders. She wasn't even supposed to be here, but she had wanted to check up on the situation now that everything was over and it wasn't like anyone here was going to call her out for trespassing. With so many strangers present it was hard to imagine anyone living in this room. Hatter wasn't sure what she'd been expecting.

A flash of red in her periphery caused Hatter to step toward the bedside table, so far untouched since she herself had tampered with it. The unusual cylinder was still sat there, as of yet unlabelled and thus not recorded on any system. A hesitant idea planted itself in her mind and before Hatter fully registered what she was doing she had used her body to block the view of the cabinet, glancing over her shoulders to check if anybody was looking her way. Convinced she was in the clear, Hatter smoothly swept the cylinder straight into her coat pocket; it was almost too perfect, like the container had been specifically sized to fit inside. There was a small distending of the clean lines of black fabric but nothing that was immediately noticeable or suspicious, and another flitting look around informed her that no one had seen what she'd done. A tiny rush of adrenaline spiked her blood as she hastily – but not too hastily – beat a retreat out the door, the historians who'd actually noticed her arrival not batting an eyelid at her subsequent exit.

It wasn't until she had left the building that Hatter wondered why she'd stolen the cylinder.


Peace scoffed as he checked the video feed for Test Room 2, his concern that the static nature of the image meant the camera had broken proving to be unfounded. "Is she actually sleeping like that? Wow."

Hollow's head poked up over the monitor, now distracted from working on his latest prototype. Peace didn't seem to have noticed his interest so the genius stood and walked around until he could see what the fuss was; the screen currently displayed the room Hatter had appropriated a few hours ago to train in, littered with fighting paraphernalia created or collected over time. Most notably a punchbag had been hung from the ceiling, now hanging at an odd angle as the lower half was pushed horizontal by Hatter's face where she leant against it, balanced in an almost infeasible manner. If not for the slight movement of her chest as she breathed, Hollow might've thought the image was a still.

As Peace chuckled at the oddity, Hollow frowned. The exact details of how the mercenary had ended up in that position didn't matter nearly as much as the fact that she was somehow maintaining her serenity despite her usual awareness of herself. "She's been sleeping too much lately," Hollow commented, forehead knitting even further.

Peace's mirth died off and he tilted his head in agreement, though he made no mention of the cause of Hatter's recent lethargy. And why should he? Everyone knew the reason, so where would be the point in having more endless looping conversations about it; no matter how many missions Hatter took or how much danger she got herself into, it clearly wasn't enough to wipe the events of three months prior away. And given her temperament, maybe it never would.

"Gubiak, what do you think?" He leant on the desk as he awaited the newly-upgraded CI's answer.

My study indicates that Hatter is within healthy medical deviations. But analysis of Juke's behavioural records would suggest that she needs some help.

"That's all very well if she wants the help, but she keeps refusing to talk about it," Peace scowled.

You can't force her to.

"But–"

Hollow shook his head and fixed his assistant with a sombre look.

"She just needs more time."


Hatter grumbled as she turned over on her bed, trying to get back to sleep; she couldn't remember exactly what had woken her up, but past experiences gave her a pretty good guess. Slumber evaded her not for lack of exhaustion, no, but for an entirely unlike-her reason.

Her stomach growled.

Muttering in frustration at her own body's desires (and in annoyance that she'd forgotten to eat before going to bed) Hatter pulled herself to her feet, straightening up her shirt as she did so and yawning widely. One quick trip to the kitchen didn't require her boots so she left them behind, Juke freeing her from her room quickly. Her late-night movements triggered the lights as she progressed, but anything bright had barely turned on before it was off again. The mercenary entered the kitchen and blinked as her eyes adjusted slowly to the change in tone, Gubiak keeping the room's illumination just low enough to foster her need to sleep. It was strange knowing that she had not one but two CI looking out for her now, working in tandem to make the whole process of daily life as a moderator easier.

Brain working at only half speed, Hatter barely thought as she rummaged through the cupboards for something simple to make, allowing her hands to pick things from the shelves as they pleased. Muscle memory led her through the process and before she knew it she had a plain looking sandwich ready to go. A plate was unnecessary, in theory, but she had one out anyway. The scrape of the chair as she pulled it out grated on her ears and made her wince a little but she set the discomfort aside when she sat at the island counter, surrounded by far more jars and pots of fillings than she could have possibly used.

The first bite she took was sweet, as was the second. But her meal was getting progressively less appealing the more she ate and by the time Hatter had consumed a quarter of the sandwich she had to stop, setting it down carefully. The bread was turning to ash in her mouth and the filling was scratching at her oesophagus as though it were actively trying to make her bleed. Shit, she didn't even know what she'd put in it! She gingerly pulled the slices apart to discover an odd marriage of peanut butter and honey, the former of which she wasn't particularly a fan of anyway. She'd even cut off the crusts for some unfathomable reason and it was at this point that Hatter had to stand, wiping roughly at her mouth as if she could remove the taste of dust from it. She'd been hungry and tired, sure, but this peculiar meal just wasn't like her. No, it was more Kia's sty-

The mercenary whirled around and swept her arms over the island, casting everything off of the surface and sending it flying. A discordant symphony of shattering glass filled the kitchen as she breathed far too rapidly and shallowly for it to be healthy, dark spots creeping into her vision as she slipped into and out of Desync with a ferocity she hadn't experienced for years. Hatter staggered and leant against the counter for support, the sharp edge of it digging into her side like a blunted knife held by the laughs of a girl who'd been dead for months.

She was dead.

She had died.

She had jumped.

Hatter didn't know how long she'd been standing there but eventually her heart rate returned to a normal level and she found enough presence of mind to examine her surroundings. There was glass everywhere on the floor, the ceramic plate shattered into a thousand pieces and an explosion of jam decorated every visible cupboard. It was even on her feet, soaking through her socks, stickier and heavier than blood but reminiscent all the same. Hatter felt the tracks of something warm on her cheeks and the pain of something caught in her throat. The impression of concerned faces swam past her eyes, too blurred for her to make out any individual. How long had it been? How many months now? Five? Six? The moderator reached up to her bandoliers and gripped them tight as some form of comfort, glad for once that she'd forgotten to take them off before sleeping. They were familiar, they meant she was prepared, protected. Capable.

Except she wasn't, was she? She couldn't even eat a bloody sandwich. How pathetic was that?

Hatter took a deep breath, straightening herself out. She refused to be beaten like this. Not by a person long since dead. Her fingers fumbled at the entrance to one of the hidden pockets of the bandoliers for a few seconds before she managed to pull out the card she knew was still in there. It was more than a little bent, but the information on it was still clear enough for her to make it out. For a second, that tiny black and white business card was her whole world.

"Fuck this."