Author's note:

Good news, everyone; I'm back in business and raring to get this story underway once again!

Seriously though, after being stuck on a single chapter for so long, I'm just glad to be getting back on track and moving forward again. Fingers crossed I'll be able to start posting bi-monthly as I have previously, but I don't want to promise anything until the return to Aranos arc is behind me, given how much of a headache it's proven to be.

In any case, hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and a happy new year; I know I certainly did. And since you would likely rather be reading the story than my ramblings, let's get on with the chapter, shall we?

I'm always trying to improve as a writer, so please read and review. Constructive criticism is welcome, flamers are not. If you enjoy this story, please feel free to check out the other stories on my account should you wish.

- RevenantReaper337

Disclaimer:

Ratchet & Clank, associated characters, organisations, and intellectual properties belong to Insomniac Games. All other real world organisations and products belong to their respective governments, companies, etc. Original characters, creatures, weapons, etc. belong to me. Cover art belongs to Nekolover3 and is used with her kind permission.

'Thoughts'

Flashbacks

"Speech"

Chapter 31:

Incarcerated

Thugs-4-Less Maximum Security Prison Vessel 'Tartarus', Aranos

Bogon Galaxy

G2.17.085 Galactic calendar

9:15am local time

"On your feet, maggot!"

A swift kick to the ribs certainly achieved that if nothing else; Ratchet instinctively curling into a ball on his side as consciousness returned with a vengeance. Groaning with fatigue and the dull, aching pain that seemed to permeate his body, the lombax managed to raise his head in time the darkly attired Thugs-4-Less employee deliver another vicious kick that left him sprawling and gasping for breath. Powerful arms grabbed Ratchet's own and yanked his limp body upright from behind, holding him securely while the thug before him continued to rain blows with an extended baton and a sickening grin plastered upon his face, filled with vindictive glee.

With his eyes barely focused and body feeling like one giant bruise, all Ratchet could do was endure while desperately trying to fight back; clawing at the arms keeping him pinned in place and crying out every time the descending baton slammed into his gut, almost doubling him over from the sheer force of impact. One final blow smashed into the lombax's jaw and snapped his head back with an explosion of pain, blood dripping freely over matted fur as he was released from the second thug's iron grip and subsequently folded like a house of cards.

"Enough, gentlemen," a smooth, husky voice echoed within the enclosed room; one tinged with both amusement and cold indifference in equal measure. "I think the poor kitty needs some time to recover before we play again."

Collapsing on to his hands and knees while drawing ragged, rasping breaths, Ratchet forced himself to glare up towards the source as it drew nearer; a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat. Sauntering forth upon a pair of ridiculously high heels was perhaps the first female example of the thugs' predominantly reptilian species he had ever seen; a modest bust and much more slender, feminine frame clad in a navy blue power suit being the most obvious giveaway.

Though similar in colouration to the Thugs-4-Less regulars, the woman's scaly hide was of a much lighter hue and speckled with slightly darker patches over what little was visible, almost like freckles in a way. Instead of the expected dorsal spikes running the length of her spine, a small crest of flexible black quills sloped backwards over her more streamlined skull in a strange imitation of hair, while her much longer and sinuous whip-like tail protruded from beneath her knee length pencil skirt; swaying hypnotically in a serpentine fashion with every measured step.

A long sleeved white blouse with wide cuffs and the collar unbuttoned down to her cleavage completed the look, while slender hands ending in clawed fingers glided from behind her back to encompass flared hips over the accompanying suit jacket as she finally halted a few yards away. But it was blazing red eyes and sharp maw of razor-like teeth locked into a parody of a smile that instantly had Ratchet on edge; that cold, calculating look promising untold suffering for whomever crossed her path, or anyone else for that matter. In spite of being a little shorter than the lombax by his estimate when stood upright and not looking all that imposing physically, It was obvious that this woman's borderline sadistic demeanour was not something to be taken lightly.

Didn't stop him from being a smartass though.

"Sorry lady, but you're not my type." Ratchet paused briefly to spit out some bloody saliva; that last blow apparently having knocked something loose before his dwindling Nanotech reserves kicked in. "Especially if that's your idea of fore-"

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by the nearest guard slamming his baton into the lombax's stomach once more, causing him to almost bend double with a pained grunt. It was fairly obvious from the way they growled in unison and stepped forth that the two thugs within arms reach were ready to administer another beating, but thankfully for him they were stopped short as the woman raised an open palm along with her commanding voice. "No, not yet. I want this one intact for now."

Showing a surprising amount of discipline given what Ratchet had seen of the mercs during their many encounters thus far, the guards stood down with little more than a death glare directed his way. Nodding respectfully towards their much shorter superior as they moved aside, each flanking the lombax while keeping their respective weapons in hand and ready to swing at a moments notice.

"Ma'am."

"Warden."

With a confident smirk, the woman closed the distance between them, and Ratchet felt sharp claws grasp hold of his jaw before being forced to look up into the burning pits of her crimson eyes. The fingers on her other hand lightly traced the injury on his cheek in an almost delicate way, but there was nothing gentle about the look of dark hunger and anticipation plastered across her face; especially this close where he could practically feel her breath tickling across his fur.

It would be so easy to take her down at this range, even in his weakened state, and she knew it. The reptilian woman had no armour or any obvious weapons whatsoever; a simple punch or headbutt followed by one of a dozen different close combat techniques he had absorbed during his commando training crash course and she would be out of the fight before it even began. But this was a power play, and everybody in the room knew it.

The stark metal walls of metallic grey on all sides and lack of any furniture or windows imposing a sense of solitude. The fact he had been stripped of everything and forced into an orange prison jumpsuit sporting a six digit serial number across the chest, reinforcing the sense of vulnerability and helplessness. The heavily armed and armoured guards threatening to dish out violence at a moments notice, and eager to be given any excuse to do so if their track record was anything to go by. All of it was calculated to enforce obedience; to make any form of resistance against his captors seem utterly useless and ultimately futile.

Which was why Ratchet didn't even so much as raise a hand towards the woman even as she slowly ran her talons deep enough through his facial fur to draw blood; a suppressed flinch and grit teeth combined with his constant glare boring into her being the lombax's only reaction. There would be a chance to get even later, but right now Ratchet needed information more than anything else if he wanted to find where they had taken Clank and get out of here in one piece, not to mention what had happened to Ellen. If the mercs had gotten hold of her too and so much as laid a finger upon her head... Well, there wouldn't be much left by the time he was through.

"Such spirit," the suited woman cooed between lapping the lombax's dripping blood off of her talons; gaze unwavering and unnerving in equal measure as she stood back up to her full height. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you in, piece by piece."

"Y'know, a guy called Drek said pretty much the same thing to me once," Ratchet replied with a dry smirk as he looked her directly in the eye. "It didn't turn out well for him either."

A fanged grin was his only answer; the implied threat seeming to excite the woman more than anything else for some reason. "My, my. Promises indeed, Mr lombax. But I'm afraid your markazian friend isn't here to save you this time."

Ratchet's eyes narrowed into a glare, not bothering to correct her misconception in favour of what was important. "Who are you? What did you do to her and Clank?"

The woman's shark-like smile only grew wider at his borderline growled words; a brief titter escaping her lips as she turned to walk away before looking back over her shoulder with hooded eyes. "Ah, and there's the fire I've heard so much about. But alas, I appear to have you at a... slight disadvantage."

Whirling back around to face the lombax on his knees upon reached the room's solitary open door, her smug look merely intensified as she gestured towards the guards; watching them grab an arm each and hoisted Ratchet off the floor. "My name is Annabel Crudelis. Head of Thugs-4-Less Incarceration Services, warden for the prison ship Tartarus and, as of right now, the only thing keeping these fine gentlemen from tearing you apart with their bare hands."

"Better count yourself lucky, fur bag," the merc to Ratchet's immediate right growled directly into his ear; the other grunting in agreement as he slapped an oversized pair of restraints over their prisoner's wrists. "I lost a lot of buddies thanks to you, and I know a bunch more who'd kill to have five minutes alone time."

"As for your companions, well..." Warden Crudelis trailed off with a clawed finger tapping against her lips in mock thought; off hand fisted upon her hip. "Let's just say you'll be joining them both shortly. But first, we need to get you properly processed for your permanent residency here. Gentlemen?"

With that, the two guards practically dragged him out of the holding cell and followed in the warden's wake; her heels clacking with each purposeful stride. Once outside, Ratchet couldn't help but wince at the sudden change in brightness until his eyes could adjust once more; finding himself being marched down a well lit but mostly sterile-looking corridor that was only broken up by the occasional pipe running along one wall or the mesh flooring under his bare feet. Disoriented as he was still, it was difficult to make out just where exactly they were given that everything looked pretty much the same, and it wasn't until the group moved past some very familiar exposed machinery lining one side of a T-junction that realisation dawned.

The flying hot lab above Aranos...

Angela had previously mentioned that Megacorp had pretty much given it to Thugs-4-Less as a sweetener for their new contract, and between Logan's boasting prior to his capture plus what this Warden Crudelis mentioned, it didn't take a genius to put the pieces together. The mercs must have simply taken the existing infrastructure and modified it as they saw fit; the mostly occupied cells they were passing by looking more like storage rooms with the blast doors removed and a laser grid installed in its stead.

" As you can see, we already have an extensive population here; comprising some of the worst scum in the known universe from over two dozen worlds, and with more coming in every day." Several of the inmates called out with a myriad of jeers and cat calls in equal measure as the warden led their little procession past; not even batting an eye as multiple guards nearby moved to quell the troublemakers with electrified batons jammed through the cell bars. "And of course, if any become too incompliant - or worse, unprofitable to contain any further - it's simply a matter of making room for those who are. Observe."

In response to a brief nod from his superior, one of the guards stood next to the cell they were passing by reached up to a lever positioned on the wall alongside and yanked it down. The prisoner inside had a brief moment of panic before a blast door slammed down in front of the bars and cut him off from view; his pleas and hammering fists silenced by the sound of rushing wind coming from the far side, before the door slid open once more several long seconds later. Of the inmate however, there was no sign; and Ratchet couldn't help but feel a disturbing chill radiating through his body at both the man's likely fate and the nauseatingly joyous expression plastered across Crudelis' face. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with her?

"There, much tidier. Wouldn't you agree?"

Ratchet growled with simmering anger. "You're sick, lady. You know that, right?"

"Why, thank you, Mr Lombax!" she positively beamed before releasing a content sigh; the remaining inmates having clamed up and not daring to so much as breathe in the ensuing silence. Although that didn't stop a baton-shaped rebuke to the ribs from one of the escorting guards for his troubles. "Now then, let's move on with the tour, shall we?"

The rest of their journey continued on in relative quiet bar for the background hum of machinery lining the walls and constant footfalls on mesh flooring; Ratchet's mind buzzing with half formed escape plans as he tried to take note of every turn and landmark upon their route. If nothing else, that last 'demonstration' had proven in his eyes that this so-called warden was perhaps one of the most dangerous kinds of people; a functioning psychopath with zero conscience or sense of morality, and who seemed to revel in causing others pain. Good for Thugs-4-Less perhaps, given their reputation and lack of scruples, but decidedly bad for the lombax and anybody else she managed to get her claws into.

Hopefully the others would be relatively okay too given the situation, although that did beg the question of what had happened to them and where they were now.

From what Ratchet remembered, Clank was pretty much out of it just before he was taken down in turn, and in all likelihood was either bought here too or to a similar facility elsewhere if the mercs had one. Ellen on the other hand was relatively safe the last time he saw her before losing consciousness when back in Silver City; high up on her sniper perch amongst the convention centre's upper catwalks. Smart girl that she was, the redhead probably would have stayed out of sight and tried to slip away rather than risk a fight; maybe grabbing her ship and getting off world before anyone realised she was gone and laying low for a while.

Then again, considering her sheer stubbornness and lethal temper when sufficiently riled, there was a fair chance Ellen would attempt to mount a straight up rescue attempt at the earliest opportunity. Assuming she was both free and still alive for that matter, although the odds were good since it seemed that Thugs-4-Less wanted to take them all alive for reasons as yet unknown. But for now at least he would have to play along if there was to be any chance of getting off this flying prison in one piece and finding the others, and memorising his surroundings along the way was but the first step towards a solid plan.

It was as they were traipsing along yet another nigh identical-looking corridor however that Warden Crudelis sudden paused in mid stride at a sudden chiming sound; reaching into one of her suit jacket's inner pockets and retrieving a compact tablet. A few deft stabs of clawed fingers against the screen later and she was turning to the face the group with a shark-like grin; eyes hungry and full of anticipation as they locked on to Ratchet's own.

"Well it seems that the last guest has arrived for the party, and I would be a terrible host not to greet them in person." Turning her attention towards the escorting guards, Crudelis continued. "Change of plan. You two, escort this fur bag to the ultra-max cells then lock the area down tight. Nobody gets in or out."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"You got it, Warden!"

Giving a brief nod of approval, Crudelis gave Ratchet one last smirk before turning to depart in the opposite direction. "Make sure to say hello to your little metal friend for me when you get there, Mr Lombax. Oh, and don't worry about your little redheaded hussy. I'll make sure to take extra special care of her."

A borderline feral snarl escaped the lombax's lips at the thought of what that psychopath might have in store for his girl, but the threat of another beating stilled any other verbal response on his part. It certainly wouldn't do his already aching ribs any favours, and there would be ample chance to return the favour several fold later once an opportunity arose. But right now Ratchet needed every damn advantage he could get, and that meant cutting through the fog of anger clouding his mind in favour of planning his next move..

Find Clank, bust out, grab Ellen - wherever she was - and blow this joint; preferably while getting back at that whack job warden along the way. Simple, if likely to be complicated by the distinct lack of useful equipment and hundreds of trigger happy mercenaries standing in his way, but definitely doable given the insane odds the three of them had faced down before. He only hoped that whatever she was up to that had gotten Warden Crudelis so worked up, Ellen wasn't way over her head.

{()}

The recently refurbished, open air starboard flight deck below was a flurry of activity as Annabel stepped off the elevator and into the overlooking control room; personnel rushing to and fro in an act of organised chaos everywhere she looked. The resident ground crews were clearing out some space on the reinforced glass and steel surface while several squads of heavily armed guards rushed to set up a defensive cordon. Riot shields were locked into place, personal weapons cocked and ready to fire at a moments notice, while those with a more explosive variety lined the raised, skeletal gantry stretching from one side of the flight deck to the other.

Everybody waited with baited breath and twitchy trigger fingers as the roar of an incoming transport's engines grew with each passing second, almost drowning out the constantly howling wind whipping by the massive prison vessel entirely once it finally broke through the cloud cover and came into visual range. By then Annabel had already crossed over the control room's opposite side with carefully measured strides; hands clasped behind her back and posture radiating authority as she stared out through the wall length reinforced glass windows looking down upon the rapidly clearing deck below.

"Status report, sergeant; what do we have?"

"Serial number checks out, ma'am," the merc manning the console next door to where she stood spoke up in his gravelly voice; the red highlights on his armour marking him out compared to the other personnel busily working away at their own surrounding stations. "JZ-19-73E; same as the assault transport ship that left Boldan in a hurry a couple of days back."

Annabel grinned. "Perfect. Have all combat teams ready to move in the second its engines shut down, I don't want our esteemed guest going anywhere."

"Yes ma'am!"

The sergeant turned back to his own console and began relaying her orders via his oversized headset, but Annabel was far too preoccupied with watching the incoming vessel to register his words. Though resembling little more than an upscaled version of Thugs-4-Less' standard dropship, the assault type transport was a damn sight bigger and barely able to fit on the outboard flight deck at all. With high altitude currents buffeting it all the way, the crew's skill was pushed to the limit as he matched speed with the constantly moving prison vessel; carefully vectoring into place with deft handling and careful flaring of docking thrusters before finally setting down in a nigh perfect four point landing.

The second its engines began to spool down however, a trio of assault teams led by shield bearing enforcers dashed across the deck and surrounded the transport's rear cargo ramp; weapons trained on the only entrance bar the emergency cockpit release hatch, while snipers and heavy weapons crews provided cover from the catwalks above. Back in the control room, overhead loudspeakers crackled into life as the various squad leaders checked in; Annabel's eyes not leaving the landed vessel for so much as a second.

"Delta team here; we're in position."

"Gamma team, standing by."

"Bravo team; ready on your go."

"Good," Annabel replied with a firm nod of approval before briefly turning her attention towards the sergeant seated nearby. "Tell the crew to make sure the cockpit is sealed and begin lowering the ramp." Turning her attention back to the situation down below, Annabel tuned out the sergeant's relaying of her orders in favour of savouring her impending triumph; taking a moment to relish it all as the ramp finally began to descend before unleashing her chosen instrument on the fool who thought she could outsmart their entire organisation. "All teams, proceed as planned and bring me the girl alive. I don't need to remind you of the consequences for screwing this up."

Even as the respective team leaders squawked in their acknowledgments, their subordinates were already tossing cylindrical grenades in their droves through the gap made by the slowly descending ramp; exploding inside the interior with a cacophony of light and sounds that could be felt even all the way back in the control room. The first squad stormed inside mere moments later with the other two maintaining a vigilant watch; sweeping the interior with assault weapons and shotguns ready to fire at the slightest sign of a threat.

Everyone remained tense as the second squad followed suit a half minute later; not willing to take any chances given how dangerous just one of the fugitive Megacorp commandos had proven to be in previous encounters. But as time ticked on and her impatience grew, Annabel couldn't help but tap her foot while releasing a frustrated growl. What was taking them so damn long? Large as it was, it shouldn't have taken the best part of thirty men more than a matter of minutes to sweep the cargo bay from top to bottom and find the unwanted extra passenger hiding within. And yet, there was still nothing substantial over the open radio link between ground teams and control room; almost as if-

"Delta lead to command; that's a no go on target. I repeat, negative contact."

"What...?" Annabel froze in place, head slowly turning towards the now openly sweating sergeant's console nearby, where he was busy both trying to clarify the situation and avoid his boss' steadily growing legendary wrath. "Give me that damn thing!"

Not waiting for an answer, Annabel quickly pushed him aside with deceptive strength for her much smaller frame and grabbed the desktop mike with both hands; a low growl fuelled by icy rage colouring her tone as she brought it up to mouth level. "What do you mean 'negative contact'? That little markazian bitch was practically gift wrapped with a little bow!"

"Well, I, uh... don't know what to tell you ma'am," the assault team leader managed nervously; all too aware of the warden's vindictive streak and penchant for permanently dealing with those who displeased her. "We've searched the ship from top to bottom and there's no sign of anyone ever being here. All cargo is accounted for and unhampered with, and the ship's logs show nothing got in or out of the hold since leaving Boldan."

"Well check it again, you idiot!" Annabel snarled while maintaining a death grip on the now creaking mike that was slowly being deformed under pressure. "Tear the ship apart if you have to, and detain the crew for interrogation. They're obviously hiding something and I want to know what!"

"Y-yes ma'am! Right away!"

She ignored him; cutting off anything else the spluttering merc might have to say and storming back over to the control room's main window so that she might glare upon the object of her rising anger. Her wonderful cousins Bling and Boom had served up a new toy for her to play with on a silver platter; one that promised to be a worthy challenge for a woman of refined tastes such as herself, or at least compared to the common ilk infesting the cellblocks of her own personal fiefdom anyway. Yet somehow the markazian girl was able to elude her inevitable fate and stay hidden; no doubt planning on rescuing her boyfriend and his tin can friend or some such heroic nonsense.

But Annabel Crudelis would soon show that silly little girl the error of her ways; breaking her down piece by piece until all that remained of the big bad commando was a gibbering wreck, as she should be before her betters. But first there was the chase and the thrill it invoked; a long forgotten warmth rising at the prospect of hunting down her quarry and watching it squirm as the noose tightened and it tried to avoid being caught in an inescapable trap. Yes... Perhaps she should thank this Ellen Pierce for creating such an opportunity; right after she had the pale-skinned bitch at her mercy and thoroughly worked over for so rudely disturbing her schedule.

"Run while you can, little mouse," Annabel murmured to herself with a disturbingly shark-like grin spreading across her features. "Because our playtime is just getting started..."

{()}

Meanwhile, several decks below in a nondescript but well travelled corridor, a pair of shogun-wielding enforcers paced along on their assigned patrol route; clearly bored and engaging in muted conversation that faded away as they disappeared out of sight around a bend up ahead. Has they been that bit more alert, one or both might have noticed one of the slatted grates evenly spaced along the overhead ventilation duct slowly lift out of place before being shifted aside. A pair of luminescent blue optics briefly peered out upside down in both directions from the encompassing dark void within, retreating back inside moments later with what sounded like a faint mechanical whir.

"All clear?" asked a feminine voice with a distinctive Scottish lilt, pausing as if waiting for an answer before continuing on. "Good."

So it was that one Ellen Pearce found herself trying to lower herself backwards through said gap with dangling legs kicking ineffectually at the air; muffled curses faintly echoing inside the narrow ducting above until she managed to somehow lower herself through enough to drop down with a startled yelp and land in an unceremonious heap several feet below. Scowling to herself while rubbing her tenderised rear, Ellen rose into a crouch and checked the corridor both ways with bated breath to make sure nobody was coming to investigate, before turning her attention to where Samus looked down on her from above with a mixture of amused concern evident in her surprisingly expressive optics.

Are you alright, Ellen?_

"Think I bruised my ass," the human muttered under her breath before raising her voice a little. "Don't worry about it, I'm fine. You remember the plan, right?"

At the brief bob of Samus' head, she continued with a nod of her own. "Okay then. Stick to the ventilation system, and whatever happens, make sure you don't trip any sensors the thugs might have set up along the way. We're only going to have one shot at this, and if they find us early..."

Don't worry, I'll be careful_ the modified infobot reassured with a raised servo. Good luck, Ellen, and stay safe_

"You too," Ellen replied with a faint smile that grew into a teasing grin. "Just... try not to fangirl too much over Clank, okay?"

Giving the redhead an exasperated look, Samus slowly shook her helm before floating back up into the ventilation duct and zipping out of sight; leaving Ellen to snicker quietly to herself before schooling her features once again with a sigh. Getting to know one another during their long journey inside the transport ship's cargo bay, it had become kind of obvious that the little robot had a thing for Clank that was sweet but almost bordered on stalker-ish at times, given the lengths she had gone through to track him down. Thankfully, after some carefully worded questioning, it seemed to be more of an intense crush than anything more sinister, mixed in with a healthy dose of hero worship and idealism for what he represented to robots everywhere and infobots in particular.

Meaning, of course, that Ellen was want to bring it up at every opportunity; if only to see Samus get so adorably flustered.

Beyond that, the little robot gave the impression of a well learned and rather bookish kind of girl; being more comfortable with facts, figures, and spreadsheets rather than embarking on a galaxy spanning adventure. Yet here she was, willing to stick her neck on the line for someone she didn't know in spite of being virtually defenceless, if it meant saving the robot of her dreams. Given how she felt about Ratchet, it was something Ellen could more than understand and respect in equal measure, and once it became clear from the ship's manifest as to where exactly they were going, it hadn't taken the pair long to begin forging a rescue plan.

There was a certain irony to being back amongst the skies of Aranos once again; where this whole Protopet mess truly began, and where she had been so unexpectedly reunited with the lombax she loved after being so cruelly torn apart. Perhaps more importantly however, it meant Ellen had at least some idea of the newly converted prison ship's layout and possible breaching points from her previous visit. Although once the transport ship had successfully landed at their destination and the pair had snuck off however, it quickly became apparent that Thugs-4-Less had done a lot of alteration work to the point that Ellen had no idea where to even start looking for her captured companions.

Thankfully Angela knew the layout of her old flying lab like the back of her hand; a brief call once Ellen and Samus had found an old storage room to hole up in yielding a downloaded copy of her own personal map marked with some of the lesser known maintenance sections and access hatches which the new owners hopefully wouldn't be monitoring too closely. It wasn't nearly enough however, and something on her end made Angela abruptly cut off the call with a growled curse before Ellen could ask for anything else, meaning the duo would have to find more information elsewhere if they were to have any chances in hell of succeeding.

It was fortunate then that Samus had proven herself to be a surprisingly capable remote hacker when the situation called for it; especially since infiltrating the ship's internal communications net yielded the disturbing fact that Ellen had in fact been expected, and that a sizable force was lying in wait for her to arrive. Some quick thinking and swift data manipulation on Samus' part switched the logged serial number to that of another transport ship due to arrive in a few hours time for that of the one they had arrived on. Not something that would stand up to close scrutiny, but hopefully enough to buy them at least some time to locate Ratchet and Clank before all hell broke loose.

From there it was simply a case of finding the nearest ventilation shaft and re-enacting Ellen's infiltration of Megacorp's testing facility on Dobbo; Angela's map guiding the way as she crawled through who knows how many miles worth of confined ducting once more. Samus of course had no such issues, being a damn sight smaller and able to simply float ahead while providing warning of any obstacles up ahead, something that came in handy more than once when patrolling guards passed close enough to hear her awkward movements through any of the irregularly spaced mesh grilles along the ventilation system.

Which eventually brought them both to deck seven and the present time, just over an hour later according to the projected HUD in Ellen's helmet, and exactly where she needed to be in order to begin her part in their rescue plan. Not knowing how long they had until their ruse was discovered or the warden otherwise found them somehow, the first order of business was to sabotage any and everything Thugs-4-Less could use against them, while Samus did what she could to find out where Ratchet and Clank were being held. To that end, Ellen planned to neutralise any chance of an armed response once everything inevitably went loud, and since an army is supposed to march on its stomach, what better place to start than the barracks and mess hall?

With the soft soles of her commando issued boots masking each step, Ellen cautiously made her way down the now empty corridor after the departed guards; keeping close to the nearest pipe-lined wall and ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Reaching the end, she ignored the dull thrum of power that seemed to perpetually reverberate through the ship's walls in favour of checking the route ahead, before sliding around the corner and pushing further on into what had originally been the old crew quarters.

Noting some of the doors along her relatively straight route, Ellen couldn't help but frown as she compared Angela's downloaded map with that being drawn up on the fly by her Wrist Com's Automapper function and added to that from her first visit. While it looked like the crew mess hall and medical office were in the right place, Thugs-4-Less appeared to have done some major renovations when they took the ship over; knocking through walls to expand some rooms while cordoning others off altogether for some reason. Case in point being when she went to slip inside what should have been a storage room off to one side of the exposed corridor she was traversing as a guard stepped out of a doorway up ahead, only to find a recently patched, blank wall instead.

Thankfully there was still a faint lip along the edge of the wall, behind which Ellen huddled in on herself while not daring to breathe as he steadily paced nearer while grumbling to himself. By some small miracle, he was far too engrossed in stabbing at the tablet held in front of his face and so didn't notice as he passed by within inches of brushing the redhead's arm before continuing down the corridor. Relaxing her death grip upon the Versa Blade in her off hand with A silent prayer of thanks, Ellen shot the merc one last look to be sure and quickly made off in the opposite direction; bypassing what she took to be more bunk rooms on either side of the confined corridor and briefly halting at a T-junction.

While her grasp of galactic common still left a lot to be desired, Ellen didn't really need to be an expert to decipher the bizarrely familiar symbols next to the respective written words on the recently installed wall plaque directly ahead. The pair of bunk beds obvious represented sleeping quarters, a blocky-looking rifle and ammo canisters represented the armoury, while a crossed knife and fork upon a plate was obviously the mess hall.

She'd need to swing by the armoury sooner than not to restock her nigh exhausted ammo reserves, preferably before things inevitably went loud. It was also the most likely place to find Ratchet's confiscated equipment, and her best bet for possibly snagging one particularly interesting gizmo that she had been itching to get her hands on since first encountering it in Canal City on Notak. But it was the arrow next to the symbol of a syringe over a green cross that pointed right which piqued Ellen's interest as her head turned to follow its direction; pieces falling into place as the beginnings of a wonderfully vicious idea sprung to mind.

'I think it's time I made a doctor's appointment...'

{()}

As leading physician for the recently acquired prison ship Tartarus, and thus responsible for the well being of both Thugs-4-Less personnel and what prisoners the warden would allow him to work upon, Doctor Diego Kreel had at least some modicum of professionalism to uphold. Being stuck working for such an unscrupulous mercenary company wasn't exactly his first career choice, but times were hard, and after that fiasco on Notak a few months back that ended up with his clinic shutdown and a warrant out for his arrest... Well, let's just say there really wasn't a choice at all; especially when Logan himself promised to have the whole 'cut price Nanotech beauty treatment infusions gone wrong' thing conveniently swept under the carpet in exchange for his service.

It didn't exactly help that there was a lot of prejudice against blarg right now, thanks to that damn fool Drek and his ridiculous crusade across the Solana galaxy last year. His campaign to build a new home world had brought hope to thousands of displaced blarg since they had abandoned Orxon so long ago, but in doing so in such an aggressive manner, their dear leader had practically signed their collective death warrant. Relations had soured to the point that blargian immigrants were virtually isolated in their communities and unable to gain any meaningful employment; forcing them to either move back to the Shadow sector colonies or otherwise look into less than legal options for keeping a roof over their family's head.

Diego had thankfully managed to save enough bolts to send his elderly sister back to their home colony before things took a turn for the worst, but couldn't afford to do so himself. Being one of the few specialised practitioners in Canal City kept his services in demand and cash rolling in for a little while, no matter how grudging some of the clientele might be. But with the competition outpricing him and some distasteful shortcuts resulting in botched surgery and the end of his career, it was almost inevitable he'd end up with a group like this.

Back to the point at hand however, and in spite of his questionable history, Doctor Kreel was still a damn fine practitioner and meticulously organised to boot. Which was why, upon returning to his some cramped sickbay after a mid-morning coffee break, that he was surprised to find the door to his secure and normally locked medical supply storage closet slightly ajar. With a slight frown upon his face and caution in his step, the blargian doctor rested a hand upon the pistol holstered beneath his lab coat while gingerly prodding the door open with his free hand; eyes widening upon seeing the state within and internally cursing up a storm.

The interior was completely trashed; numerous phials laying shattered where they fell and dripping an eclectic swirling mixture of various chemicals into an ever growing puddle on the floor. Various drugs and medical supplements laying scattered around both on the shelves and off, while practically all of the emergency Nanotech supplies were simply gone or otherwise so far beyond use that it wouldn't matter either way. Hell, he'd be lucky to salvage anything out of this, and stars help anyone if there was any kind of medical emergency. Which led to the question of who would do such a thing, and what they hoped to gain out of it.

"Damn junkies," Diego muttered darkly under his breath. "Coming in here, breaking my stock. See how they like it when they've OD'd and there's no counteragents left. Dumbasses..."

So occupied was he, as he crouched down and tried to extract one miraculously intact batch of Nanotech from the swirling pile of ruined supplements, that Diego failed to notice the relatively tall and feminine figure stealthily slipping past behind him; checking both ways before quietly exiting through the still open clinic door. It also wouldn't be until a good three hours later, after thoroughly checking through his remaining inventory and some very creative swearing, that the doctor finally determined what had been taken. A puzzled frown etched on to his faces as he stepped over to his desktop computer and prepared to fire off a strongly worded incident report that even Crudelis, borderline psychotic though she was, would be hard pressed not to do something about it.

After all, what kind of moron would trash anything of value and leave it behind - some of which would easily fetch thousands of bolts on the black market - only to steal a years supply of Lax-Fast constipation relief?

{()}

Feeding the troops in any large scale military organisation was difficult at the best of times, and a mercenary outfit was no different. Mess Sergeant Tarok knew this fact all too well; having been in the supply division for a good five years now and seen his share of action in hot zones throughout the galaxy; providing meals to hungry troops in some of the harshest environments imaginable. A good meal and a chance to unwind in a friendly atmosphere away from daily operations could be just as effective as any weapon in a soldier's arsenal, even in somewhere as far removed fro frontline combat as this prison ship assignment.

Not that he was complaining about the lack of action of course; even if some of the other guys did bitch about it on a frequent basis, along with the hushed whispers about their immediate superior and her... eccentricities. In spite of his hulking reptilian frame and numerous scars that gave him an intimidating appearance, Tarok wasn't actually all that keen on fighting, and considered himself to be more of a people person; preferring to listen to the woes of his fellow mercs and dish out advice along with his cooking. Other times people just wanted to stop and talk about any and everything that wasn't part of the job, and Tarok was more than happy to reciprocate in kind.

Especially for his old friend Marcus, who looked a little weary but otherwise in good spirits as he perched upon a stool that had been pulled up to the serving counter. It had been the best part of a year since they had last seen one another in person due to their differing assignments, and their first real chance to catch up since Marcus started his rotation aboard the Tartarus a few days back. They certainly had plenty to talk about, and more than ample enough time before the early lunch rush really kicked; Tarok setting the latest batch of traditional Snivelak stew to simmer on a low heat and dumping several dishes into the nearby sink for a long soak, before giving his friend a knowing grin.

"So, how old is the little spitfire now?"

"Just coming up to four as of next month," Marcus replied with a wistful smile as he gazed at a well worn photo held aloft in one hand. "Still can't believe my little Katie's growing up so fast."

Tarok merely chuckled to himself, idly wiping down the serving counter with a damp rag while a slight smirk tugged at his lips. "Enjoy it while you can, Marc. Believe me, once she gets into her teenage years, you'll be singing a different tune."

"Yeah..." Marcus trailed off with a sigh. "I just... wish we had more time together; to see Katie grow up. Being out here, away from her and Marie for so long... It's hard, you know?"

'All too well, Marc. All too well...'

It was one of the reasons Tarok hadn't bothered to settle down or form any lasting relationships when on leave; not wanting to get emotionally invested in a girl, only to leave her behind for potentially years at a time when deployed on long term company operations. It wouldn't be fair on either of them, and while he didn't begrudge Marcus the whole married life with kids thing, Tarok honestly couldn't see it working for him. Although on the flipside, that did allow him to play the distant uncle role and spoil the ever loving shit out of Katie on birthdays and during the holidays; her fiery nature and determined, almost constant curiosity never failing to bring a smile during his rare visits to the family home.

Deciding his long time friend needed a little cheering up, Tarok reached across the counter and grasped his shoulder with one hand before giving it a reassuring squeeze; grinning as the glum-looking merc looked up at him in surprise. "You know, you could always bring Katie along to the next 'bring your kid to work' day. I'm sure she'd get a blast out of seeing what her daddy does all day."

Snorting with mirth in spite of himself, Marcus couldn't help but give a matching grin in return at the mental image. "Sweet ancestors, could you imagine it? I'd barely be able to keep her away from the armoury!"

"Or the grenade boxes," Tarok shot back with a barely suppressed snigger. "Remember that time I came round to your place when we were both on leave, and you left your assault pack on the kitchen table?"

By now Marcus was openly laughing at the memory, and Tarok wasn't far behind as they recalled what had honestly been one of the weirdest days in both their lives. "You mean the thing with the flashbang, the squirrel, and the rubber duck? Oh man, that was hilarious!"

"I know, right?" Tarok grinned. "And did you see the look on Katie's face when that ice cream guy freaked out and took off?"

"Right into a stop sign too! And then she just marched over there and demanded a damn chocolate strawberry sundae like it was nothing; with sprinkles!"

Their raucous laughter drowned out nigh everything else in the mess hall as the pair continued to reminisce; the few other occupants at this time of morning briefly looking up at the commotion from their respective tables before settling back down to their meals again. The noise also made a wonderful distraction for currently crouched and obviously feminine figure who clearly didn't belong; having been stuck behind an open crate of distinctly purple and rather pungent root vegetables for the last ten minutes and waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

Hearing those two bantering had dampened Ellen's enthusiasm somewhat; the red mist of vengeance abating upon facing the fact that these mercs were people too with their own hopes and dreams, and not just vicious killers or cardboard cut-out bad guys. A small part of her felt a little guilty given how many she had personally killed, and the effect it would have upon their families; questioning whether she could pull the trigger on somebody who was no longer just a faceless goon, but a person in their own right. It was a moral question she had wrestled with long before, back during the blarg crisis in Solana, and the answer was ultimately much the same now as it was then.

At the end of the day, it was simply a case of survival; kill or be killed, us versus them. Those men had chosen to become mercenaries, knew the risks of their profession better than anyone, and wouldn't hesitate to shoot her in an instant so long as they were being paid to do so. Which was why she didn't hesitate any further as the pair busied themselves in retelling their story with increasing hilarity; not noticing as she quickly but carefully reached up to the industrial grade stove above her and deposited the contents of several small white bottles into the still simmering stockpots of soup.

Though she was barely five feet away from the mercs, both were laughing too hard to notice her and were drawing virtually everyone else's attention; allowing her to finish up and slip away back the way she came. Retracing her steps into the storage room for dried foods that ran adjacent to the open mess kitchen, Ellen carefully backed herself inside the narrow, floor level ventilation shaft once more and haphazardly replaced the grating; reversing until she hit the last junction she had passed before taking the opposite branch towards where her next objective was supposed to be.

All she could do now was wait and see if her plan had the desired effect, and hope that Samus wasn't having any more trouble on her end.

Because bad guys and faceless mooks are people too with their own lives, and not just cannon fodder for the heroes to mow down. Something that's all too easy to forget in stories like this, and an issue I don't really see addressed all that often with any detail; humanising them, if you will.

On the flip side, I always felt the Aranos prison section of the game to be far too clean and simple to from a narrative point of view. Where are all the other inmates? What's with the lack of security measures? And perhaps more importantly, why, exactly, would Thugs-4-Less leave Ratchet in a cell with all his weapons and armour intact. It literally makes no sense at all!

Still, these issues and more are something I plan to address over the next chapter(s) as we build towards the inevitable escape; one I plan to (hopefully) make far more spectacular than in canon. Especially with Ellen's meddling and the Buddy brother's sadistic cousin thrown into the mix. But until then, I hope you've enjoyed the build up so far.

Review replies:

bajy - Thank you! Glad to hear you're liking the story so far, and can only hope you will continue to do so.

Firestar5277 - Thanks, It's good to be back, and to be honest, I really didn't realise just how much I needed a break until from writing until I actually did. I've been itching to write Samus in again since her brief appearance early on in the story for quite some time, and given she isn't really fleshed out as a character in canon, it means I have a wonderful opportunity to turn hr into something other than a throwaway plot device. As for the little trap Ellen has unknowingly walked into… Well, given that Murphy really doesn't like her, you didn't think she was going to get away from that mess so easily, did you…?

Once I've gotten myself sorted out, I hope to keep adding to the omake collection on a semi-regular basis, or whenever inspiration strikes. Oftentimes I get some random idea that just doesn't fit into the story but don't want to waste, and this is a perfect opportunity to get it out there. In the meantime though, there's always this story, and a chance to see how Ellen copes without Ratchet and Clank. Once our heroes reunite though, I think I can safely predict 'carnage' to be on the menu, and that the Warden Crudelis will regret ever having any of them onboard 'her' ship.

Hope you liked this build up chapter, and that I can figure out what exactly to do with the Qwark action figure once the Plumber has… dislodged it. Take care!

TehEnderz - Aw, thanks. I'll do my best.

TimeLordCompanion - Sadly, no. I did consider it once, but given my writing pace and the fact that would require me to pump out a story virtually every few years for the next decade, I think sticking to the original trilogy for now is ambitious enough. Not saying I definitely won't attempt to continue this series some time in the future, but I have no current plans. Sorry.

jozs001 - rest assured, there shall be fluff and such sooner than not; in fact, I have something planned out already. But before all that, our heroes need a little breathing space, and the first step is giving Thugs-4-Less a kick in their collective teeth. As soon as they're reunited that is…

Light Seeker 001 - Thanks, and touch wood, but I think I'm past the worst of my writers block for now. Or at least enough to get this chapter out at any rate, and hopefully the rest of this arc. I'm not sure if I'll ever get that far, but I think Ellen would be fascinated by the zoni, and perhaps given time, able to form some kind of friendship with them, although nowhere near Clank's level.

Lightsaviour2759 - Definitely feeling a lot better, thank you, and eager to get this story moving forward once again. Hot water indeed, given things have been relatively easy for our heroes up until now. But as you can see from this chapter, when it comes to hurting those she cares about, Ellen can be exceptionally vicious and creative in equal measure.

The White Guardian - Hey, you're back, and with what is technically a treble review to boot!

If there's one good thing about stories like this that nominally follow the source's canon, it's the opportunity to expand, change, and otherwise improve set events in such a way that they reflect 'how it should have been'. Or at least in the author's eyes anyway; I just wanted to make things more interesting than a carbon copy of canon and things kind of ballooned from there. Although that being said, if you liked the split dynamic and sense of déjà vu in the original Aranos revisited level, then I think you might enjoy what I've got planned out…

Admittedly, I might have gone a bit overboard with the Buddy brothers, but I really wanted Ratchet and Ellen to face a foe - or indeed foes - that were on equal footing in terms of skill and power, as opposed to being a dumb brute. People seem to like them though, so I guess I did something right, and with an equally relentless cousin commanding the converted prison ship T4L 'acquired'… Well, let's just say things aren't going to be pretty when they eventually come to blows.

Given that the storyline was more of an excuse to go planet hopping than anything else in the early games and was largely aimed at kids, it's perhaps little surprise that there are gaping plot holes wide enough to drive through. That does allow me to come up with my own explanations however and an excuse to introduce original content in order to plug said gaps in such a way that makes sense, which I'm glad you approve of. Which in turn, without wanting to spoil anything, means that the inevitable showdown on Snivelak won't necessarily go as expected either…

Thanks again for reviewing, and hope you enjoyed the new chapter.

Sonachugirl - Yeah… Ellen has a pretty good idea of what constitutes as 'fun' for Logan, and it sure as hell isn't crossword puzzles and board games. Operation 'being chased by a burning abomination of science while simultaneously on fire' is a go! I'm not sure why, but for some reason Samus just seemed to suit as a name for the little infobot and also felt like a name Ellen would come up with on the spur, given Metroid would have been the kind of game I could see her growing up on. Thanks again.

DarkEnigma95 - A long time indeed; I can't believe it's been just shy of five months already since I stopped updating regularly… But with any luck I should be back on form and schedule from here on out, pending anything else going wrong. Somehow, I get the impression that Ellen's parents aren't going to be too pleased with what their daughter has been getting up to during her 'disappearances', although that might be tempered somewhat by the whole 'aliens exist' thing.

Although it wasn't quite as good as I'd hoped and didn't really do anything new, I did find the reboot to be pretty damn enjoyable overall. The visuals are gorgeous, and being able to visit familiar planets with a new spin is both fun and nostalgic in equal measure. I'd have to agree; the sniper weapon (whose proper name I can't remember right now) is damn good, and probably one of my top three for the game. I just can't help but wish Insomniac either introduced more new weapons rather than just reusing ones from prior games, though…

In any case, a very happy new year to you too, and hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much. Thanks again!

- Hey, another new reviewer! It's always nice to hear from a different perspective, and that you're enjoying the story thus far. To answer your question, my current goal is to cover the original trilogy only, given how gruelling this whole enterprise is, with some side stories and such when the mood strikes me.

If I do continue on at some point in the future however, I would cover Deadlocked and then skip straight to the 'Future Saga' games, since the non-Insomniac games are - as you rightly pointed out - kind of lukewarm at best. Although they did have some interesting points, which I would perhaps reference when appropriate, but otherwise gloss over. Hope that helps.

Plasmatik - Well, you know what they say; better late than never, right? Still, glad you enjoyed it, and hope you like this one too. Even if it is more build up than action…

Until next time, please review and check out my other stories once they're posted and/or updated.

Thanks for reading

- RevenantReaper337