Before I moved out, I was called for some side mission. Hadronus had either been a crow's nest for crime and corruption or the city of fun and entertainment. Certainly some wild birds to this massive nest had done the job to this oil rig, I thought, donning my tanks for my last dive into the Gulf of Collapsar. The superstructure was now in remains and all four of the gigantic legs are dislocated, mostly like a broken toy of a monstrous leviathan. Everything that could be safe to remove had been torched off and lowered by crane onto the dive barge.

What remained was a skeletal platform, which would soon make a nice place for local game fish, I thought, entering the launch that would take me alongside. Two other experienced divers would be working with me, while a safety boat circled anxiously to keep the local fishermen away. Happenings like these mostly attracted the curious. And it would be quite a show, I thought with a grin as I rolled backwards off the dive boat.

It was hauntingly dark underneath. Lines of sunlight wavered under the rippling surface, making inconstant curtains of light that trained across the legs of the platform. The C4 charges were already in place, wired tight against the steel and fused to blow inwards. I took my time, inspecting each one carefully. The men behind me ran the prima-cord, wrapping it tight around the steel blocks. I checked their work, and they checked mine, for caution and sensibleness was the mark of such people. When you dealt with explosives, you didn't rush and you didn't take chances.

"Fire in the hole," I said. I twisted the handle on the detonator. The results were satisfying. The water around the rig's legs turned to foam as they were maimed off bottom and top. The fall was shockingly slow. The entire structure slid off in one direction. There was an immense splah as the platform hit. Then the see-through collection of light girders sank below sight, to rest right on the bottom, and another job was done.

I disconnected the wires from the generator and tossed them over the side.

"It's been years. I guess you wanted that long-awaited bonus, mate," the executive said. A former RAF pilot, he admired the job well and quickly done. "Bella Rose was right about you."

"My senior is a good chap to the bone. She did a lot for General and I."

"Well, we'd been together for a year." The executive liked working with people who had experiences like his own. "What are you going to do now?"

"Hmph," I grunted offhandedly. "I've got to do a favor for General."

"What is the objective?"

"Can't tell," I added an eye roll to mute the refusal.

"I bet it's something to do about Hadronus' status, but alright." A former RAF pilot had to respect the rules. "Be safe."

He whistled to attract a girl wearing a purple jacket with a hood, a blue skirt, and white sneakrs with purple laces carrying very heavy equipment. The fur is mostly white. Her face wasn't shown but two glowing purple eyes and a peach muzzle carving a serious look. Her height is normal for her age, maybe fourteen, three feet and eight inches. I noticed her left hand and forearm is bandaged. She opens her jacket on five inches, revealing a shortsleeved white shirt with a blue bow tie. A school uniform, I thought.

"Hey, Perce!" he waved a hand. "Need you for a minute here!"

She approached us.

"I am not Perce, it's Percival." she said in a serious tone. "Don't you see I have heavy equipment to carry?

"I'm Blaze, nice to meet you." I smiled to give her a first impression.

She eyed me with a hint of scorn and hatred. "You're General Solace's girl, ain't ya?" her tone matched the look of her eyes, "Well, I couldn't receive any meetings with the one and only slow-moving Assault Commander."

"Respect your seniors," I said to her the rule. "I am the 67th Assault Red Commander Blaze Solace. State your name and rank politely."

"Percival—12th Covert Assassin... obliged to meet you, senpai." Percival calmly said. "At your service."

"Is it hard for you to do it?" I slightly frowned at her.

"Introductions are over, I'm leaving," she simply walked away.

"I'll report this to your senior," I said.

"I don't care." says Percival. "Complain and yell all you want, it's not going to affect me."

"Why..." I felt anger at her impoliteness.

"Perce's always like that," he said. "Says that she was, you know, left behind by some girl who got in love. Since then she doesn't lend assistance to those who need her."

"Did she sign the Free Will?" I asked, about the contract that can be given to some people who only works for part time and has no place for too much burden in their hands.

"Yeah."

"Make sure you write an apology letter!" I shouted, anger was getting the best of me.

"How about you do that?" Percival was irritated, "You don't have to shout, I'm still here."

She walked away.

...

I had to pick a gray Toyota Prius parked near shore. Starting up the engines, I drove away. Tonight's plans are open, I thought. Maybe a dinner at a nice restaurant would work, but no can do of wearing the snappy suit and tie outfit. Home is just near, just an hour and I'll be able to move out of the city to start my mission. The station wagon onto the street, heading south for the company's huge support yard. The traffic lights are in my favor. One turned to green right on time that I don't even have to step on the brakes. The truck driver glared as the light changed to amber. He was late and now in a very fast speed, but the end of his 500-mile run from one of some city's districts was in sight. He stepped on the clutch and brake pedals with a gasp of surprise as both pedals went all the way to the floor. The road ahead was clear and he kept downshifting to cut speed, frantically blowing his diesel horn. I never saw it coming. My head never turned. The station wagon just leaped right into the intersection, and the driver's lingering memory would be my profile disappearing under the bonnet of his diesel tractor then the awful lurch.

...

I walked out of the ER at the hospital. A police officer explained that it hadn't been my fault. The brakes had failed. Mechanically malfunctioned. Just one of those things that you might never see it coming. All the thing I'd said on other such occasions, trying to explain to some innocent person why the minor part of my world is on the verge of ending. It was quite a bit painful being in that tractor's bonnet. The doctors were unable to explain my fast regeneration. This Blaze Solace was a tough one, the officer saw, and all the more vulnerable because of it. I experienced of what it's like to have your skull smashed on the hard steering wheel and being inside the massive engine of the tractor's bonnet was no joke to me. People die in there. There was nothing to be done for someone like me who would have accepted hell rather than this—because I'd seen hell a lot. But there was more than one hell, and I didn't seen them all quite yet.

...

The city was full of bright lights and vibrant colors as I drive the car and lead the movers' truck to the new house I leased a couple of months ago for summer. It is true, Hadronus has the lowest level of heavy traffic due to its Computer Regulated Traffic System, or CRTS for short. Before Pacem became a glimmering city, Hadronus was the first to even introduce a computer that regulates every record and data on every building. Since to this day, the mayor, alongside the computer itself, was still keeping the city as a place of fun and entertainment.

My eyes were glued (not metephorically) to the side window. I had to keep my eyes on the road. By the time I had reached my destination, I pulled off at a vacant house beside another one, now occupied by someone. The movers and the truck came, I opened the door for them to arrange my stuff. They carried the furniture and some heavy appliances. The house itself was perfect for me to live. I glanced at the fence of my new neighbor—a beautiful pink hedgehog with jade green eyes and is just two years younger than me. She looked at me with a smile, and waved at me. Hm? Her face looks familiar to Belle's. (I keep mispronouncing the name.) Yeah, I guess this is her daughter.

While the movers are at it, I approached the wooden white fence acting as a boundary. The girl also did the same, and we made a very good eye contact. I had to stop quivering in awkwardness, at the sight of this girl, my eyes are now superglued to her, like, for real. Despite of my low social skills and that I never had friends before because they couldn't accept me for murdering two of my peers. (It was really a gruesome death for them; I wish they're not frowning at me from above).

"Are you new here?" she asks.

"Obviously," I answered. "I had to move away for reasons."

"What's your name?" The question made me smile.

"Blaze," I reached my hand over the fence. "I'm Blaze Solace. From Pacem."

"I'm Amy Rose," we shook hands.

"How..." I trailed off, couldn't find the right words to describe her name, then continued. "...beautiful."

"T-Thanks," she blushed.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I heard Pacem's a cool place," says Amy.

"Not if you don't like the white sand beaches and resorts," I said. "If I could describe Pacem with just one word, it would be 'futuristic'."

"Is that so?" Amy said in an impressive tone.

"Yeah," I ran a hand across my jaw. "...Aren't you Belle Rosethorn's daughter?"

"Okay," she grinned. "First of all, I am. And second, you're mispronouncing my mother's name."

"Just get used to it, Amy," I said. "I always get that 'mispronounciaton of her name' thing."

Amy saw the movers carrying the heavy things inside my new house. "It seems that you got a pretty nice furniture."

"It's all about my taste for aesthetics," I said in pride. "Well, while they're at it, I guess I could just drive to the boatyard and sail on some distance—"

"You have one?" Amy's eyes sparkled.

"Eh?" I raised a brow. "You've never ridden one?"

"I-It's not that," she shook her head. "I never saw one twice because my mother says she rarely uses them."

"Oh," I smiled slyly. "How hard Belle is for you to see hers once. Cheer up, I'll let you on my deck."

The movers were finished and drove away. I checked inside the house first, the arrangements should be exactly like my house in Pacem. I then move upstairs, inspecting the cabinets of their contents. After three minutes, I nodded in approval. It was time to go—I guess, locking the possible entrances and the main front door. Amy locked hers and vaulted over the fence with such little effort, carrying a backpack along with a slingbag.

I entered my new red Ferrari convertible and Amy followed. We buckled on and I started the engines of the car. Before hitting that gas pedal, I adjusted the rearview and side mirrors, checked the gauges, enough for a drive in that boatyard. Then I drove away.

...

The boatyard was a hotspot of activity. The three-day weekend, of course. I maneuvered to Frigate's transom and backed up the slip I'd left six hours before. It was a consolation to press the automatic windows to raise the windows and lock the car. The adventure on the highways was over, and the safety of the trackless water beckoned.

Frigate was a diesel-powered motor yacht, forty one feet long. She wasn't especially dainty, but she had two sizable cabins, and the midships saloon could be converted easily into a third. I had a high-quality radar, every sort of communications gear that I could legally use and naviagtion aids usually reserved for offshore fishermen The fiberglass hull was so decent, and there was not a pint of dust on the chromed rails, though I had deliberately done without the topside varnish that most yacht owners cherished because it wasn't worth the maintenance time. Frigate was a workboat, or was supposed to be.

Me and Amy alighted from the car. I opened the cargo door and I started carrying her backpack aboard.

"What do I do?" She asked. I had the impression that she was trembling a little and trying to hide it.

"Just take a seat," I said, pointing to the flying bridge.

"Okay." She beamed a smile at me, guaranteed to melt ice.

I secured the last of her bags in the saloon. Common decency told myself to wash my face and hands. Two minutes later I went topside.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Hmph," I grunted again. "Must you know that?"

"Come on, I don't want you to take me somewhere dangerous," Amy said.

"Don't worry," I grinned. "I own some little island about thirty—"

"You own an island?" Her eyes went wide.

"That's right." Actually, I just leased it.

"Let's go!" Amy said with enthusiasm, looking back at the shore.

The wind's speed was at two knots, so I flipped on the bilge blowers, not minding about fumes building up, but I was once a Navy member and I followed the strict routine, observing all the safety rules that had been written in the cold blood of careless men. After the perscribed two minutes later, I pressed the button to start the port-side, then the starboard-side diesel. Both engines caught at once. I left the flybridge slip my mooring lines, then came back and eased the throttles forward to take my boat out of the slip, checking tide and wind—there wasn't much either at the moment and looking for other boats. Amy was looking round at the boats, too, mainly aft, and her eyes fixed on the parking lot for a long couple of seconds before she looked forward again, her body relaxing.

"Know anything about boats?" I asked.

"Not much," she admitted.

"By the way—" I felt dumb to ask the question if she has a boyfriend. "Do you have a relationship?"

The atmosphere changed—Amy sighed. I guess her world was devastated—so I kept quiet and continued to drive my boat in the old-fashioned way.

"I had one, but I broke up with him," she looked at the shore with a faraway look. "...He wasn't my type, he thought I'm obssesive and a psycho."

"I'm sorry," I said with sympathy.

"What's this?" she asked. Amy reached out to touch the metal dog tag necklace.

"Just my identification from one of the places I've been. Not a very good one. It often stays with me—even in underwater."

"Oh, over... there." She understood. "How long did you stayed there?"

"Nothing to talk to a darling about it," I replied.

"What makes you think I'm a darling?" she asked.

It caught me short, and for the first time I answered her smile with one of my own.

"Well, it would not be very nice if me if I assumed that you aren't."

"I wondered how long it would be before you smiled." You have a very godly smile, her tone told me.

How's six months gripped you? I almost said. Instead I laughed, mainly at myself. That was something else you needed to do.

"I'm sorry. Guess I haven't been a very good company." I turned to look at her again and saw comprehension in her eyes. Just a quiet look, very beautiful and feminine, but it shook me. Her hand reached out again, onstensibly to stroke my forearms, but that wasn't what it's all about. It's very amazing how warm her touch was, even under a hot afternoon sun. I supposed it's a measure of just how cold my life had become.

But I had a boat to guide. We were out of the yacht basin now, and there was a freighter about a thousand yards ahead. I was at full cruising power, and the ride was smooth until we got into the merchant ship's wake. Then Frigate started pitching up and down three or four feet at the bow. I manuevered left to get round the worst of it.

Amy went below. She reappeared in a few minutes wearing her red dress and white gloves with golden rings as cuffs and red boots with white cuffs and lining. She had dancer's legs, I noticed, slim and very feminine. She grasped my upper arm and sat on the vinyl bench, leaning against me.

I settled down to a steady cruising speed of eighteen knots as I worked my way out of Hadronus' harbor. I kept to the main shipping channel all the way out into the eighth of the city's district bay.

"What's that?" Amy asked. I turned and winced. I'd been so content with this girl on my arm and I didn't pay attention to the weather. 'That' was a thunderstorm.

"Looks like we're going to get some rain," I replied, switching on my marine radio. I caught a weather forecast at once, one that ended with the common warning.

"Is this a small craft?" Amy asked.

"Technically, it is, but you may relax. I used to be a quartermaster in the navy. Besides, this is a pretty huge boat. If you're feeling uneasy, there are life jackets under the seat you are on."

"Are you worried?" Amy asked. I smiled and shook my head.

"Alright." She resumed her previous position, her head on my shoulder, a dreamy expression in her eyes though anticipating something that was to be, storm or no storm.

I wasn't worried—at least not about the storm—but I wasn't casual about things either. Passing Mellow Point, I continued east across the shipping channel. I didn't turn south until I was in water I knew to be too shallow for anything large enough to run me down. Every few minutes I turned to keep an eye on the storm, which was charging right in at twenty knots or so. It had already blotted out the sun.

"Won't be long now," Amy observed, just a trace of uneasiness in her voice as she hold onto me.

I throttled back some. There was no reason to hurry. With the throttles eased back, there was no need for two hands on the controls either. I wrapped my arm round Amy, and despite the approaching storm everything was suddenly right with the world.

The rain arrived quickly, the first warning sprinkles followed by solid sheets that marched across the surface of the bay. Within a minute the sky was as dark as late twilight. The waves started kicking up in earnest, driven by what felt like thirty knots of wind I knew that I was in a good anchoring place now and wouldn't be in another for five hours. I brought Frigate into the wind and eased the throttles until the propellers were providing just enough thrust and momentum to overcome the driving force of the wind.

"Take the wheel," I told Amy. "Just hold her steady and steer the way I tell you to. I've got to go forward to set the anchors—is that clear?"

"You be careful," she shouted over the gusting wind. The waves were about five feet now and the bow of the boat was leaping up and down. I gave her shoulder a squeeze and moved forward.

Amy looked nervous until the moment I returned to the flying bridge and sat back on the bench. Everything was covered with water now, and our clothes were soaked through. I eased the throttles to idle and switched off the diesels.

"I could fight the storm, but I'd prefer not to," I explained. "You can go down to your cabin and—"

"You want me to go away?"

"No. I mean, if you don't like it here—"

"I like it here." Her hand came up to my face.

I asked myself why it had taken so long. All the signals had been there. There was nothing to be frightened of, just a person as lonely as me. Solitude didn't tell you what you had lost, only that something was missing. It took something like this to define that emptiness. Her skin was soft, dripping with rain, but warm... that I longed for.

Amy pressed her face against mine, her hands pulling me forward, taking charge in a very feminine way. Somehow her passion wasn't wild like a untamed beast. Something made it different. I didn't know what it was, but didn't search for the reason—but not now. We both stood for the next embrace, weaving as the boat pitched and rocked beneath us. Then Amy took my hand and we went below.

Long minutes later my arms were wrapped around her thin form, and so we stayed until the storm passed. I was afraid to let go. I tried to smile at her, but the hurt was back, all the more powerful from the joy of the previous hour, and I wanted to cry. Her warmth was getting deep in my slender frame until I gave up letting my tears fall. There was no ay they wouldn't escape.

"Apologies," I said after a while.

"You don't have to explain. But I'd wanna help," Amy said, knowing that she already had. She'd seen it from almost the first moment in her heart; strong but broken in the inside.

"It's been nearly years... She—she ran away from me." I couldn't make myself say more.

"...Who is she?"

"My daughter."

"Why did she ran away?"

"I left her alone—while I was hooked up with someone—she saw everything—then—then—she disappeared—and didn't came back." My voice cracked again.

"You never let it out, did you?"

"Not at all," I whispered.

"It's fine."

I looked up in surprise. "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do," Amy replied. "...Some people don't make it there. Or maybe someone like you will..." She trailed off, unsure to continue. "...I love you."

I started to think about reciprocating. Amy cradled me like a five-year old. Later I dozed off at her side, and she kissed my soft cheek. I mentally patted myself on my shoulder and secretly smiled—congrats, Blaze. You earned that once in a lifetime.