Now that's something you don't see everyday, Radio Operator Dominic Zaitsev thought to himself.
The ace was merely 5 feet tall but felt so much larger than that. She was still wearing her flight suit. Her body just endured a hellish amount of g-forces that would have seriously injured, if not killed others in her stead. She was the most skilled mercenary in Sicario and had completed more missions, and shot down more enemies, than any ten of Sicario's other pilots. Her enemies named her 'King', and even if the gender wasn't quite right, she had most definitely earned that name as she regularly stole their victories from them. She was Larissa Harlow, commonly known by her tac name 'Monarch', and she had saved the Cascadian Independence Front from utter defeat more times than they could pay. She was a legend, a force of nature.
And she was currently standing in front of the hospital's windows, seemingly stargazing, and looking about as lost as a human possibly could.
Galaxy had no idea what to do. How do you comfort a force of nature? It's not like there was much precedent for her loss either. Peter and Evelyn, her Hitmen Two and Three with whom she had fought side-by-side for almost a decade now, had most likely died in the aftermath of Presidia, and her WSO was in the ICU right around the corner.
In fact, the entirety of Sicario was erased in that orange glow, save for the two of them. Even outside Sicario, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who didn't lose someone there. Still, it's not like someone else's pain made dealing with your own any easier.
Galaxy shook his head and decided to just improvise. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.
"Of course not, sir," the merc said, saluting the newly inherited head of Sicario.
Galaxy scoffed.
"At ease, Monarch," he said, "You've never called me 'Sir' before, so don't start now." He'd never admit it to anyone, but Galaxy looked up to Monarch. He had ever since she saved his life way back in Oceania before she even joined Sicario, and that feeling only ever grew stronger since. It was difficult to even consider that this woman may need his help.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Galaxy began, referring to the stars above, visible in the cloudless sky. "I don't get to see them often enough. The last few months it was always just work, work, work. Frenken has been kicking my ass to prepare me for the CEO position just in case the Federation pulled another Prospero, which... I guess is paying off now." Galaxy paused, not quite certain of what to say next. The pilot gave him no leads, only continuing to stare into the endless beyond.
"Figured. After all this time, you're still as talkative as ever." Galaxy desperately tried to inject levity into the conversation and was failing miserably. He decided to drop the pretense and be completely honest.
"Larissa, I won't even pretend to know how you feel. We've all lost people we care about, the Federation made sure of that, but... especially with what the Federation did to your home town-"
Monarch interrupted him in a quiet, even voice that chilled Dominic to his core.
"The war has been won, Galaxy, the contract is complete. We did our job."
For the first time in his life, Dominic found himself at a loss for words. He supposed this might be a way to cope with the losses, but it sounded so unbelievably... empty. Inhuman. As if someone had turned her on autopilot. Even worse, he got the distinct impression that that someone was Monarch herself.
"You say that like we don't care about what happened here." An orange spark dashed through the faraway clouds. "Sure, we're not here to fight for peace, if we wanted that we would have turned to a different job, but no one forced the Federation to cause a second goddamn Calamity or turn Presidia into glass. That was solely their responsibility, not ours, not yours." Monarch quickly turned her head to look at Dominic. It was the most significant movement that she had made since he had approached her.
Even though Dominic couldn't make out her emotions through the blank slate that was her face, he could tell that she was troubled by what he said. He decided it might be best to leave her alone now, and hoped his words would help that woman work through whatever was troubling her in a more healthy way.
"I'll let you have the window to yourself again," he said before walking off.
Several minutes, if not hours went by in absolute silence, the weary pilot did neither know nor care how long exactly.
"Their responsibility," Larissa echoed in a quiet voice no one could hear, "not mine."