Clancy reached for her pistol holster first, before opening her eyes.
There was nothing to see but darkness. Yet, as her hearing slowly returned through the nausea and headache, and the coldness of the stone wall she was leaning against seeped through her tactical vest, she knew that something was not right.
Her holster was empty.
She didn't expect to find her rifle still in her hands, after that...event landed her in this place. There was a huge, dark blue void where her memories should be. Did it happen during or after the scolding she gave?
A sinking feeling came over her. It wasn't because she'd reached towards her belt, where her backup flashlight and grenades should be hanging, and found it empty. No, she'd stopped for a conversation in the midst of a rescue mission, out of sheer frustration. Unprofessional conduct that cost her valuable time.
Time that she could've used to get both of them to safety.
She shook her head, and started going through her trousers' pockets. Even the pocket knife inside was gone. Someone must've performed a thorough search on her. These kidnappers, perhaps. Taking away all her weapons while she was out cold, then leaving her to fend for herself...certainly fell in line with their misguided sense of mercy.
Sighing, she took a deep breath and stood up, a hand pressed against the wall. After taking a few steps, it became obvious that the ground below was slanted. She should be heading towards the upslope direction, it seemed—
A ghostly green light flickered past her peripheral vision.
Still groggy and unsteady in her steps, she didn't duck fast enough. A kick connected with the back of her knees, knocking her off balance. Then, a pair of arms wrapped around her neck from behind. She put her chin down and bent forward, before reaching back with both arms, fingers going for the attacker's eyes in a gouging motion—
It didn't connect with squishy eyeballs, but cold, hard plastic.
Goggles. Of course.
Her senses came flooding back, right before her face hit the ground. A weight had crashed onto her, pinning her down. The attacker, kneeling on her back, grabbed the back of her head with one hand. Seconds later, a sharp object cut through the air and embedded itself in her outstretched right palm, nailing it to the ground.
She gasped at the white hot sensation. She couldn't have lost consciousness for more than ten seconds, but it already felt like she was going to pass out again.
"Don't wiggle. It will get you killed," A pause, "Now, what's your order, sweetheart? Repeat it to me. Word for word."
The voice was raspy and low, but distinctly feminine. Too old to be one of these two. She didn't utter a word, her mind still reeling from the pain.
The hand gripping her jerked backward, then slammed her forehead against the hard surface below. How could you still see stars when there wasn't any light around, a stray, irrelevant question flashed across her mind.
"Did your drill instructor not teach you to answer a question within five seconds," her attacker whispered, "Or have you gone deaf?"
"No." She settled on a single syllable.
"Good to know! You still haven't answered me. What did they ask you to do, and why are you down here?"
"I am," She gritted her teeth, "assisting Lowee's Guild in a Search & Rescue mission..."
Her reply was met with hearty laughter.
"Ah, I see. You have a great sense of humor." Before she could ponder about the meaning of these words, the woman cheerfully exclaimed, "Face, meet floor."
Another forceful slam. And another. And—
"Floor, this is a face!"
The last slam was delivered with enough force to give her a nosebleed. She felt blood in her throat, trickling onto her lips. Her nose might be broken right now. If it wasn't, it would be, after one more slam—
"Sadly, auntie's not in the mood for jokes today. Stop fucking with me, and answer my questions."
"I-I'm telling you the truth."
"Truth! Oh, you must be fun at parties." The woman exhaled deeply. "What next? You are one of K-Sha's girls? La-Li-Lu-Le-lo?"
That name was familiar, at least. "Lastation's—?"
"Well, that's clearly not the case. What a shame. This doesn't have to hurt too much, y'know?"
The woman gripped the knife in her right palm again, and twisted. She clenched her teeth together, as the skin and flesh split open and metal scraped against the bones—
"But you know a little more than I expected. So spill it out," A pause, "Or the knife goes into a squishy spot. Where did you hear that name?"
"K-Sha is..." She was getting dizzy, even if the blood loss wasn't nearly enough to send her into shock yet, "...Lastation's Gold Third. It was on the news, after the Delusion Incident."
"What did I just say about fucking with me?"
Another twist. This time, the woman pushed the knife in deeper. She didn't make a sound, but there was no way the person kneeling over her wouldn't feel her entire body tensing up.
"I know what you're thinking, sweetheart," Her voice had gained a teasing tone, "What an amateur. You don't torture folks for information. You torture them to get them to say whatever you want them to say. Do whatever you want them to do. And you people are experienced at this, right? Did these two still beg you for mercy on your way here?"
She had no idea what the woman was talking about. Nor did she get a chance to say anything.
"Well, auntie doesn't want information. She just really wants to stab you!" The woman said, with a chilling mix of candor and enthusiasm. "And since you are so awful at lying, it gives her a lot of excuses to be stabby."
"...What do you want to hear."
"Hmm. I know you are a grunt who knows a total of jack shit about what's in this cave," The woman said. "And we are both expendable pawns, left to rot in this hole. So, what's the point of keeping your pretty mouth shut? They aren't coming for you, just like they aren't coming for these two."
"I made a radio transmission, before—" She paused, wondering if it would provoke more violence from the woman. "They will be coming for me."
"You know how many times I've heard captives say that?" The woman sighed. "I never get so up-close-and personal anymore. But the last time I heard that sentence, poor guy was tied to a chair, and my buddies were taking turns snipping his fingers off with a gardening scissor. Nobody ever came for him."
"But repetition is not the key to comedy, I'm afraid. So...let's change the subject. Talk about something that has nothing to do with your life choices, or your orders."
Pain. The knife must've been gripped again. "If you won't give an honest answer to these simple questions, you might just lose a finger or two. Ring finger or trigger finger? I'll let you have the first pick."
This woman was playing a game. Dragging it out with false promises.
Her left arm was still pressed below the woman's knees, and her injured hand was practically useless right now. She had associated certain death with a lot of things before. Grim determination. Fierce struggle. Pure despair.
But not clarity. Never clarity. About the things she should've done, and the words she shouldn't have spoken.
"What's your full name, and which part of Planeptune are you from?"
"Clancy Virtus," she paused. "I'm not from Planeptune."
Her reply was met with what could only be described as hysterical cackling. The woman's grip on her was as tight as ever, but she could feel her body shaking with each shrill laugh. A chance.
Fueled by a burst of desperation, she tried to make a violent roll to the side. But the woman must've felt her muscle movements, and her head was slammed against the ground once again, terminating the move before it could begin.
"Why, how silly of me. None of this is real, is it?" She said, still giggling a little. "I'm dead the moment they failed to detonate that fancy earplug. Or still dying. And now my brain's mixing up all the dead people in my life."
"...Dead?"
"Oh, fate. How you love telling the same jokes over and over again, hoping that someone will eventually get a chuckle out of it," the woman paused. "Fate? If you are watching, fuck you and your sick idea of entertainment."
A chuckle. "You want some more irony? Watch this."
Without warning, the weight on her back disappeared. In an instant, she propped herself up with her left arm, before gripping the knife, trying her damnedest to yank it out. Just as it came loose, three bright green dots circled to her front and dropped down. The woman's face was not visible in the faint glow of her weirdly-shaped goggles, but she was down on both knees, her hands up in the air.
"Take a good look at that, Clancy," the woman said, as she raised the knife, ready to strike. "I took it from you. It's yours. Go on, use it. That's what you do to enemies who're foolish enough to hand a weapon back to you, and no amount of near-death mindfucks will change that."
She moved closer, holding the knife against the woman's neck.
"Clancy..." The woman sounded really tired, when she opened her mouth again. Like she had suddenly grown a few decades older. "One last thing. I miss you. I really do. Even if you aren't real."
"I'll ask you again. Do. You. Know. Me?"
No response. She didn't recognize the trifocal goggles, nor the voice, but she already had her suspicions.
"Which Goddess do you serve."
The woman snorted. "Not yours."
"Neptune, Noire, Blanc, Vert. Do you recognize these names?" Upon seeing the woman shake her head, she continued, "They are the four current CPUs of Planeptune, Lastation, Lowee, and Leanbox."
There was a long silence, after she finished her sentence.
"Ah. I'm in a different world now, am I not? Because of that vortex—" Finally, the woman shook her head. "My, this is awkward."
"If you are anything like my Clancy, you shouldn't be sparing someone who threatened to maim you further and murder you, even if it's a case of mistaken identity. Just saying."
"That is subjected to future changes, and believe me, I'm tempted," she said, before grabbing the flashlight from the woman with her uninjured hand. The searing agony in her right palm had faded to a dull ache, and she couldn't quite feel her index and ring fingers anymore. A worrying sign. "But for now, no. Unless you give me a reason to."
The woman's head jerked slightly when she switched the flashlight on, even though she had already turned away from the beam. A second later, the green lights on her goggles went off. So that thing could blind her in the face of sudden bright light. A useful thing to keep in mind.
"Thanks to you, I can't hold a pistol now. And if this is anything like a Resonance event, I'll need to defend myself from something soon. If you are willing to let me kill you, I suppose a temporary alliance won't hurt, either?"
"Ah, so you are one of those PC folks." The woman mused to herself, without elaborating further. "If I may ask, what am I getting out of this? I know you, but I don't know you, if you get what I'm talking about. And auntie doesn't usually help people out of the goodness of her heart."
"An increased chance at survival, perhaps. Because I know help is coming. And they will recognize me, but not you." Then she remembered something. "Did you take my radio too?"
The woman nodded, and fished it out of the pocket of her own armored vest. Now that the lights on her goggles were off, she could only see the dark silhouette of the woman's hooded jacket.
"No signals, as you'd expect. Let's hope you have more reliable friends out there, who won't write you off as spilled milk. Unlike my Commanders. Or K-Sha. Or..." The woman shook her head, "Everyone I know, really."
Indeed, only static noise came out of the radio, after she switched it on. She stumbled a little and nearly dropped the thing, as another wave of nausea hit her.
Sighing, she steadied herself and put the radio back onto her belt. Everything that required the use of her strong hand was out of limits now, including combat. As much as she hated to admit it, reality was the opposite of her words; she was the one who had to depend on this woman for an increased chance at survival.
"So let's start moving. Put your hands up in the air, and stay within my arms' reach."
"I have a better idea," the woman said. "Get onto my back. I can see much better with my goggles on, and since you are so roughed up right now..."
"Better keep something sharp in your left hand. That way, you could—" The woman made a slicing motion against her own neck, "Much easier, and much quicker, should I try something funny."