Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Syrenet, #7: Foraging Harvest. Last one surely had its ups and downs, with characters collapsing and whatnot. I want to say thank you to those who struggled through it as our adventure shall only get more calamitous from here on out. I think that there'll be more chapters in the 4k range than the 6k range, but I'll most certainly try. Review replies!

Solar Energy07- I'm very well honored to read that. Gee, you have no possible preconception of how awesome and kind of you that was to even remotely say that. Ah, you're so ever curious on seeing what Smashers fill what roles. I assure you that not every Smasher is a character, and even more so to add the mystery, there's more than a rebel, a member of the Collins group, or someone in Syrenet as the makeup of this cast of characters, you'll see soon enough. Hope this chapter suffices!

Smash King24- Thank you so very much for reading and reviewing like I had asked, it meant a lot to me. Yep... this sure as heck is trying it's very hardest. I'm trying to mature my writing by making the most out of what I can do as a writer by exploiting locations and as the characters evolve, so do their environments. Along with maturity means I need to indeed be darker, and there's no lack of it in this story which will contain murder, deceit, fraud, and so much more. Of course, in Rated T boundaries. The sci-fi element is a little bit harder as there's no flying cars or teleportation, not even the sci-fi fantasy elements we see in Marvel movies... but akin to like the Industrial Revolution in America, what that did to industry. And yes, the famous, 'how's the weather'. Included it simply for an effect that Marth and Ike talked about nightmares and death to switch to the weather, a shift intentional in tone.

CrashGuy01- I hope this chapter answers both your questions about Shulk and Roy. I had planned for an additional scene in this chapter dealing with Corrin (usually three per chapter, but I felt compelled to only keep these two) I am beyond delighted to know that this story has you hooked beyond measure, I hope to continue increasing this as we go on and have my craft be extended to something I never knew which was possible. Thanks for your words!

I hope you all enjoy the chapter, Chapter #7: Foraging Harvest.


The wine sits groggily in Roy's belly from the dinner the night before as his worn out sneakers touch the asphalt soil of the Collins compound in Boston, about twenty minutes out from the city. A ray of sunshine hits his head and he downs himself to one knee, growling into the gravel. The pain festers in his stomach once more, daring to lurch and vomit outward. Last night is a fractured blur to him, as all the redhead remembers is heaving up his dinner on the floor of his already disgusting apartment and going unconscious, waking up to a smiling blonde face that he does not recognize, and then vanishing into the transpires of shadow as if nothing had happened.

His phone buzzes off like a madman from Link's incessant calls - demands, rather, since Link Collins does not appear to be a rational man - to appear at the factory by 10 AM sharp, no later than the hour, and no earlier. When Roy comes to, he's sitting a pool of blood which had to have come from his mouth with the remnants of last night's dinner pooled about him, stinking of alfredo and mushrooms that turns his nose up. There were no signs of other bodily harm or injury, actually Roy felt quite alright and everything functioned. Except for the blood on the tiled floor, of course.

Roy shakily dresses himself, taping another log describing the strange events of the hours beforehand, says goodbye to Ness who smarmily replies that he hopes Link doesn't completely cleave him in two, which to the Syrenet operative said several colorful expletives and flipped a few obscene gestures to make his point. He hails a taxi from his hotel room, pays the driver handsomely, and says that he'll find a different form of transportation on the way back. He needs to start a pay roll service for that taxi driver, Roy deduces as he watches the blazing cardinal headlights vanish in a peal of smoke and the crap from the road.

Snake is texting him too, as he gained intel during the night that Link Collins plans to meet with an executive who wishes to talk about business, nothing more, nothing less, but in context, for Link Collins, business could mean a good multitude of things that the FBI boss does not simply want to mull over at this time. He says that Corrin requires his attention the entire day on important D.C matters via a Skype call and constant emails which means that Roy's only true ally in the northern front of Massachusetts is abandoning him. Roy, as he shakily walks past the gated entrance to the weapons facility, sticks a new tapped adhesive that lets him talk to his AI Unit on the underside of his wrist, subconsciously pulling down the sleeves of his sweater. A cold, drafty chill blows through the vicinity, and Roy Arcadia from Alpha Squad of Syrenet most desperately misses Washington.

The iron wrung gates of the compound are stark and black like the hearts of the men who open them, which Roy notices as he walks by, do not smile nor do they repeat his greeting of good morning. Roy's feeling less welcomed by the very minute second, and this time he doesn't get Shulk's snappy repertoire to help be his backup. A few smokestacks billow gray plumage and waste into the somewhat azure sky like volcanoes spreading their death of ash and pyroclastic material from an eruption akin to the one covering Pompeii.

Roy wonders about his friends, if he can even call them such a word, in D.C, on how they're doing, how they're holding up without him. "Probably just fine," he snarks to himself, feeling quite pitied. A man can only be as good as the words he says, his father once told him at dinner when his parents argued over which potato went with which pasta. The redhead dreams of a time when those days were not filled with him running out of the house and finding his brooklet to cry in, simply because he did not understand why his parents fought so viciously over food choices. It is not till he is much older, years later, that the realization sits in where, if he replaced potatoes will how much money his parents earned, and pasta to bills, that his parents fought so spitefully and vilely over bills and the economic foundation of the Arcadia family. It's no surprise to any of Roy's family members that his parents split when he was only nine or so, little under a year when his mom found a job that actually suited her.

He feels tears streaming down his cheeks as he's stopped on the cobblestone path from the gate to the main building in the compound. Roy bats away at them like a gardener protecting his crops from locusts which only cause him to cry harder. He's not going to be able to stem the emotion. Despite his horrific tendencies at being unable to not keep his feelings out of sight, it was his ability in battle, and with a tongue, and with a gun that got Roy Arcadia where he was today, and it is something his family has never let him forget. Painful bruises at one point used to linger around Roy's ankles from tripping and falling in the morning due to the academy's constant runs - runs that Roy could never finish as his stamina never came from tiring out the muscles in his legs, but those in his arms. Fist fighting especially.

The redhead hears a sharp whistle, as Roy's been standing in the middle of God's nowhere on the cobblestone path. He looks up, hand frozen at swiping another tear away to see Link Collins, trouped by at least six other men, jollily prancing towards him. Roy cannot believe his eyes, as the blonde arms dealer is literally prancing to him, a skip on a stone there, a wide outstretch of his hands here to welcome the redhead.

"I hope it isn't too dreary," Link comments, stopping at Roy's side, smiling. "I asked the janitors to repaint the welding chambers and the florists to buy new flowers, but there wasn't enough money in our budget to afford such a... 'project'," the blonde puts air quotes around the word project, causing Roy to raise an eyebrow at the sincerity of the man's words. "Nevertheless, I still am the owner of Collins Enterprise and these grounds are much better than any company overseas."

He turns and beckons with a finger to signal that Roy should follow. The redhead hastens his step. Roy bites his lip. He must tell Link of what happened yesterday. Either the Syrenet soldier had contact with food poisoning or a virus, or something much more serious, an actual attempt of being poisoned. He cannot possibly think of who else besides Shulk, Snake, Corrin and the other Syrenet operatives that would know of the mission, nor what one would gain by poisoning some random affiliate of Link Collins. "Link, there's something I should tell you-"

Link steps through the doors of one of the open aired spaces where the guns are made, his hands lacing the mirrors on the doors. He juts his jaw out to the right, eyes glimmering. "Yes?"

Roy suddenly doesn't know how to speak, breath stuttering and lips feeling dryer than usual. "Last night... I- I was watching TV and when I went to go to bed, something caused me to fall unconscious and vomit up blood. I awoke feeling just fine, but whatever happened to me I cannot explain. Anything unusual happen to you?"

The blonde looks at the other men gathered, his lackeys or something such or other and breaks into a laughter. Laughter. Roy's eyes flare up as Link places his hands on his knees, howling out to the wind and soon the others chuckle as well. "I was wondering when that would happen. I expected it to happen in the van ride while you were going home with me, but I must've given you a smaller dose than I originally thought."

The redhead takes a step back, hands searching around his waist for a weapon when he realizes that he left everything in the hotel room. He's a downright bloody idiot. Roy looks at Link nonplussed, eyebrows knit together. "What?" There's no other word in the dictionary to explain his confusion.

Link looks around as if someone's done some vile crime, like murder, before scoffing. "If you think I trusted you, Mr. Arcadia, no questions asked, then you're much more of an idiot than I thought. I simply had a chef on my payroll in the restaurant's kitchen give you three drops of a poison into your linguini pasta dish before our waitress brought it out. There's a reason why I only have my dinners there, Roy, in essence to hide my assets. Generally, the person in contact with the drug succumbs within two hours top, which happens when I personally wish to ride home with them. They spill all these secrets and I find out that they weren't who they said they were..." At the blonde's words, Roy's throat seized up. Did he say something regarding Syrenet in his ramblings? Is Link going to kill him on the spot? He never thought of that possibility. "Though I wish there were more times when the party in question did not have anything to hide, as that has happened once or twice, but a man often keeps his secrets underneath his tongue."

Roy regards the arms dealer with a look that he can only hope and pray is one that does not show weakness. "And? What did you discover about me?"

Link smiles back, patting the redhead on the shoulder with a warm touch. "Nothing of worry, Roy. I may be a shifty man at times, as the business of weapons dealing is an affair of shady characters, but there's something I do not do. I do not lie, as I make sure my tracks are covered well enough where, if I have to reserve to lying to keep my head on my shoulders, I've done a bad job at playing the game right. What you did say was embarrassing to my ears, but my stories are far worse, Mr. Arcadia. Now, do you wish to see the compound or get straight to it where you see the weapons and ogle at them?"

The redhead opens his mouth to respond when the sound of someone walking up behind them disrupts the conversation. Link looks over, another smile lacing his lips. A woman, much skinner than any man around Roy, replaces the void of the empty sky and stone. The blonde steps up to Roy's side, straightening his back even further than before. "Midna? What do you need?"

Midna is perhaps the most gorgeous lady Roy's eyes have ever crossed in his life. Her skin tone is dark and fair, a precious shade of olive with flecked hazel eyes that peal out of a cloak of ruby hair, sending shivers down the Syrenet soldier's back. She stands pretty tall for a woman, Roy notes, a knife holstered at her hip, hands at her waist. She speaks and nothing has sounded more sweet to Roy's ears than honeysuckle drowning in velvet, which would be the most accurate description of her voice which he could provide.

"Your appointment has arrived, Mr. Collins," she says, gesturing behind her with a thumb.

Link closes his eyes, nods, and shoulders to the men around him. The blonde turns to Roy, making a frown. "I'm sorry Roy, forgive me, but I forgot that I had scheduled an appointment with a client this morning. I have so much going on in my head that it's hard to keep track of things. This'll take an hour, tops. If you'd like, I can have Midna escort you around the compound."

Midna eyes Roy with peculiarity, and he catches the glean of an emotion in her eye. Lust? Regret? Pride? Admiration? He cannot tell, and it bothers him like a stinging slap across his face. "I don't know if he'd like that Link, he's looking at me moreso for my looks than my company, so to speak."

"Is he now?" Link guffaws. He beckons back at Roy. "She's a lovely box of sunshine, isn't she? Midna can see through anyone if you give her enough time. Would you prefer to be alone?"

"Yes..." Roy says at length. "If that's alright."

"More than enough."

Midna smirks, crossing her arms over her chest, expertly hiding her front which Roy minds himself was scantily clad, and he's sure she knows it and does it for a reason. "Well, then, Mr. Collins, it'd be quite rude to leave your guests hanging so long? Wasn't it you who said that you don't lie? Lying about the time of a conference meet seems to cross that border."

Link's eyes flare up akin to supernovas in the black sky of space, but he settles for a grin that is painful even for a man like to him to settle. "Of course, Midna. Roy, I'll be back in an hour. Don't get lost and please don't try to kill yourself while you're at it."

He jogs down the cobblestone path, Midna and the rest of his lackeys at his heels. Roy watches for a moment, standing precariously and awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Roy Arcadia has two options, simple enough, and he's not sure if he can make them. Either of them, to be honest. He taps the device underneath his wrist.

"Yes?" comes Ness's voice.

"You heard what just happened?"

"Quite." Ness's tone is that of boredom, and Roy can only imagine the AI Unit observing all of this with a toothpick in between his teeth in his sheltered hubble of a technological world.

"And what should I do?"

"Snake mentioned, as did Shulk, that Link was to make an appointment sometime during your stay. Though neither of them specified on what day the meeting would be, gut feeling says that this is it. You won't get a better chance to assure Corrin's thoughts than by seeing what they're discussing. I'm right here, in your head, seeing through your eyes too, Roy. If you give me the order, I can get Snake or Shulk, and even madam Corrin on the line if it's that urgent. You in?"

Roy cracks his neck, feeling a surge of bravery. "More than ready, actually." He looks behind himself like a trapped alley cat, before racing after the weapons dealer.


Shulk winces away as the bright light flashed from eye to eye, the flashlight placed between Ike's stubby fingers, his face that of concern. The bluenette follows his superior's gaze, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Upstairs, on the second basement floor, the two can hear sounds of Pit's newest Syrenet suit inventions duking it out. Ike drops the light, sighing contently.

The blonde feels like a two year-old again sitting on his mother's lap at the doctor's office as they performed all sort of cognitive tests and optical scenarios to train his eyes for a presumable military background. Even then, at such a young age, the prospect is that Shulk Roberts is to become a working, running, killing machine. "I'm fine, Ike. You don't have to do this."

"You lost quite the amount of blood, Shulk," Ike says, dropping the light, the brightness disappearing from Shulk's vision. "Protocol states, written and approved by Corrin and all the senators, that any in command Syrenet officers who sustain life threatening injuries of the sort and other cases require requisite cranial nerve exams. What do you think would happen if Corrin finds out that you went crazy and no one here at the complex did what was procedural? She'd have our heads on spikes!"

"I didn't go crazy," Shulk hisses through gritted teeth, gripping Ike's wrist. "You saying that makes me want to go crazy, however."

"Then what would you call it?" the bluenette demands, rising to one knee, head titled somewhat to the left. "Marth and I are enjoying a pleasurable conversation upstairs and we come down here to yelling. We burst in, you're covered in blood despite not having any wounds, and when I say covered Shulk, I mean drenched and drowning in scarlet. Pit's injured, cowering away from you in the corner, and Lucas is somehow awake and sobbing. You get up when we gently prodded you, croaking out that Marth and I were to help you, and then collapsed," Ike went through the details of the evening before, causing Shulk to wince. "You sound completely sane, Mr. Roberts. Is there anything I'm forgetting?"

He holds up two hands a good distance from Shulk's face. The blonde sighs. "Really?"

"Procedure," Ike smartly replies. "Cover your left eye. How many fingers am I holding up?" His right hand shifts to hold up a finger.

The blonde sighs, realizing that he's not getting out of this any time soon. "One," Shift of hand. "Four," Shift of hand. "Two," Shift of hand. "Six," Shift of hand. "One again..."

Ike lowers his hands, giving another look over at his superior. "You're optical nerve works fine. How's your throat?"

"On fire like I had spent the night screaming at the heavens to give me something I cannot get back," Shulk answers.

"Oh? And what's that?"

The life is gone from Shulk's answer, eyelids drooping like an alcoholic except that he's not had anything to drink. "Fiora..." he responds, looking at his hands.

Ike freezes, having put the flashlight back in the medical kit, then depositing the medical kit above the blonde's head. He lowers his gaze to the floor before standing up, going to the refrigerator in the corner. "Fiora..." he says sadly. "You still haven't gotten over your wife's death, have you?" The bluenette winces as he asks the question. That definitely is not his best moment.

"No. Nor do I expect that I will any time soon, Ike," Shulk snaps.

"Beer?"

"A water."

"My pleasure..." Ike mulls over the choices in the fridge, taking a Coolers Light, tossing a bottle behind him which Shulk caught with much ease. The bluenette opens the can, takes a swig, slams the refrigerator shut, turns to face the blonde, and crosses his arms over his chest, the beer resting on the counter. "Now, I'm going to ask you this only once, and you have to be honest with me or I'll go straight to Corrin and say you've gone mad. She'll have you thrown out of here like a deranged dog to the streets. What happened last night?"

Shulk crushes the water bottle in his hands at the prompting of the question, crystalline liquid spilling over the cap and onto his legs. The cold feel of the water reminds him of long summers where he and Fiora spent together at the beach, mulling over what they'd call their children, or short winters where melted snow slid down his back like slush as he kissed her in an open field under the fire of a snowstorm. He breaks concentration, throat burning from the apparent action of screaming. Pit's reminded him nearly forty times in the morning that he wouldn't stop screaming, no matter what it was. The screaming is what turned Lucas's programming on, leaving the artificial piece of intelligence purely scared and freaked out beyond belief. Shulk's heart sinks. That's two times in three days that he's awoken the piece of programming out of a slumber in fright.

"She visited me in my dreams again, Fiora did..." Shulk answers, looking at Ike dead in the eyes, the gaze so disturbing that it stirs the bluenette away from the counter, to guzzle another long sip of the beer so he can listen to the story without having to face the blackness head on. "I can remember her laugh, her voice, her touch on my back as if it was only yesterday, Ike. Her still golden hair like the rows of grain out in some stupid Kansas field..." he takes a swig of water. "Fiora is in my dreams a lot, actually. I dreamt of her three days ago, where I bought her flowers and my house exploded. I know it was only a dream, Ike, but it felt so wholly real that I'm unsure whether or not I truly had been sleeping. I watched her burn in front of my eyes. Her skin fell off like paper mache and turned to singes of ash that flowed around. The flowers in my hand were torched, my face wet with tears but I stood there and did nothing! Nothing! Fiora died in front of me and I did nothing!" he screams this, the surge of anger flowing through his bones and riveting out like wildfire. "Last night's dream was no different. A nightmare, more than anything, Ike. She came to me, dressed like a woman who offers you that one thing we can't ever completely run away from, and I'm not in the mood to spell it out. That reminded me of the golden days, those days when I wanted a child, when we wanted kids and we couldn't get them. However, this nightmare felt different. Too different. She leaned in to kiss me, like I expected, but then her lips never grazed me as she insulted me. Fiora insulted everything about me that's there to insult! My name, my honor, herself, our non-existent family... and I sat there and took it. I... I did absolutely nothing! There's a running theme in all of this isn't there? Next thing I know, I'm up and about, clawing at the bed. I don't know where the blood came from... perhaps internally. I vomited something up, dinner maybe. This snaps Pit awake and he tries calming me down. I slammed the lamp by his bedside against his head because I needed to be left alone and me telling him that did nothing!" Shulk stands up, face in a snarl and barbaric. "So, when you say that you want to go to Corrin and call me a psychopath... go ahead and do it then! Let her see the horrific monster in her ranks and let her do what she wants, Mr. Forgenson!"

He's done with his rant, his horrific spiel... and Shulk collapses back onto the bed, sobbing into his hands. Each cry is more painful than the last, a fell stinger that stiches and stiches but never actually clots up the blood, it sits there as a painful reminder for why he doesn't have any family, why he'll never have a legacy to live onto, just like the very one Fiora in his dreams insulted.

Ike finishes his beer, making sure not to crush it or throw it from where he's standing into the trash can. Shulk bends over, still crying, a unanimous wail of pain and desperation echoing along the halls. The bluenette walks over, patting Shulk on the back. The blonde's hands grapple at the taller man's arms, pulling him down and then holding him in a hug.

The embrace catches Ike off guard, a choke catching in his throat.

Shulk's tears dampen Ike's jacket. "Please... don't tell Corrin what happened."

Ike smiles down on Shulk's form. "Don't worry, Shulk. I won't. I promise."

The two sit there as the blonde continues to cry, not realizing that behind a wall, Marth stands, frozen as the sounds of the whole ordeal wash over him. The commander of Beta Squad swallows his fear, and exits to the elevator.

Something must be done.

Doesn't necessarily mean that President Corrin Etch has to be involved.


... Ooh, what is our dear Marth Lowell, commander of Beta Squad, going to do exactly? Only time will tell, ladies and gentlemen. There we are though, Chapter #7: Foraging Harvest. My additional scene was meant to be between Corrin and Robin about adding someone into their secret service, but I've found a different place to put it so there'll be a scene there. We'll get to see more of Lucas and Ness too, whom I know so many readers are just dying to see again (be honest, are you?) Next chapter, some stuff will hit the fan and onwards to reaching double digit chapters with Syrenet. Please review and let me know what you thought! Greatly appreciated! I hope to see you all again with Chapter #8: Rebel Dealings, but this is where I tempt you? Is Link dealing with rebels... or someone else? Let that sink in. Have an amazing day! I love you all so much! Love you! Bye!

~ Paradigm of Writing