Chapter Summary: Trigger extends an olive branch, and Hitman Team discover what their next contract is.
Trigger stared at the raven.
The raven stared at Trigger.
They had been doing this for what he was…pretty sure was several minutes? He was also pretty sure this was a dream, though, and one could never really be sure about time in dreams.
Finally breaking the silence, the raven cawed at him.
"What?" he asked as it hopped closer. The raven clearly wanted something, but Trigger wasn't quite sure what.
It cawed again, before flaring its wings a bit. He noticed that one of them didn't quite unfurl all the way.
Is it injured…?
It flapped them again, clearly trying to take off but failing.
Trigger couldn't help himself after that.
"Aww, you poor thing, C'mere," he said with a sigh, before scooping the bird up in his hands. It occurred to him now that he'd never actually held a bird before, but it seemed like he was doing something right—instead of trying to fly away, the bird decided to make itself comfortable in his lap.
It was kind of a chubby little thing, he realized as it settled down.
Slowly, carefully, so as not to startle it, he stroked the bird's feathers. It cooed happily at this, sounding almost like a pigeon…which he supposed wasn't that strange, given ravens were supposed to be good at mimicry. Besides, it was a dream. Dreams were weird like that.
He sat there idly for a while, just petting the little bird, before there was suddenly something clamped around his finger.
He cried out slightly as he realized that the bird had bitten him…insofar as something with a beak instead of teeth could bite, anyways. It hadn't drawn blood, but it hurt.
"What?" He asked, pulling his finger out of the creature's mouth and raising it up to eye level. The raven responded by cawing at him, glancing at something off to the side before pecking him in the forehead.
He looked in the indicated direction, finding a small bag of cheese puffs sitting next to him.
"…You want these?" He asked. Admittedly, he felt a little dumb for talking to a bird.
The raven cawed again. Well, if it looks stupid but it works, then it's not stupid.
He sighed, pulling out one. "Can you even eat these? I don't think they're gonna fit inside your beak, buddy…" The raven snapped it up out of his hand, but didn't eat it, instead electing to stare Trigger directly in the eyes, before trying to jump up towards him.
Trigger laughed, leaning down words the bird. "What in the world are you doing—"
He was cut off as the cheese puff was suddenly deposited into his mouth. It took a few seconds for him to register what had happened, and found himself quickly scarfing down the cheese puff because wow, he'd forgotten how good these tasted.
He'd rarely ventured out into society after the end of the war, spending most of his time alone in his house in the mountains. How long had it been since he'd had one of these? A year? Three years? Six? Te—
The raven let out what could only be described as laughter.
Trigger narrowed his eyes. "You little shit."
Still, he couldn't really bring himself to hate the bird, and found himself laughing along with it. He went back to gently petting the little creature
as
the
dream
faded
a w a y
.
.
.
Trigger woke up to itchy eyes and a runny nose. At first, he assumed it was allergies, before remembering the events of last evening.
Fuck. That had been real.
For a moment, he had almost dared to hope that it had been a dream, that there wasn't a living machine writhing inside of him, controlling him.
If he were anyone else, the fear wouldn't be quite as great. Maybe he could have brushed it off after the initial shock—"it's just a machine, a tool that can be controlled." But Trigger knew better than anyone that these things were anything but.
He had spoken with the man who made the Ravens once, after the dust had settled, and they'd both agreed on one thing: Zone of Endless was not just a machine.
It wasn't made of flesh, but it was alive in the only way that mattered: it could truly think, and that was precisely what made it so dangerous. It adapted and changed; it had the same unlimited potential as a human mind with none of the drawbacks of the human body.
Trigger remembered vividly the way the Ravens' style of flight had changed until it was disturbingly close to his own, how their static screeches had slowly begun to sound like his own voice until he had been able to pick out words—not Osean words, not even Erusean, but rather a language that was only spoken by drones. And yet, somehow, they made sense to him. They were the only thing that made sense anymore. He heard Hugin screaming as one of his missiles finally struck true, and it began to fall from the sky. He wanted to scream too.
Even in his prime, it had taken everything he had just stop the two of them.
Nowadays, he wondered if he'd be able to stop one.
The one currently in his head—Nemo—was mercifully silent now, which he found strange given the thing had never seemed to shut up previously. Not even the bursts of static he'd initially heard seemed to be there.
It was…almost unsettling.
Still, as dangerous as he was, Nemo seemed to regard him as an authority figure or administrator of some sort. He hoped he could leverage that to make some sort of agreement with the AI while he figured out what the actual hell he was going to do about it.
He shuddered, slightly jostling something that rested on his chest. Almost on instinct, he stroked the thing gently to calm his nerves. It was…kind of fluffy, and vaguely his mind imagined it to be the same bird from his dream.
However, although said dream was already beginning to fade from his mind, he remembered something. Feathers felt different from this…So what was he holding?
Curiously, he looked down, only to come face-to-face with a live, fully-grown opossum.
Monarch was woken early in the morning by a high-pitched scream.
He practically leapt out of bed, hands moving for the pistol that was always stowed underneath his pillow on reflex.
He crouched low in the darkness—the sun had not quite begun to rise yet, and thus he found himself shrouded by the dark.
Were they under attack? Had Osea turned on them now that their contract was over? Had the old hag decided to sell him out?
Cautiously, silently, he opened the door, only to see a rather unusual sight.
Trigger writhed on the ground in the , fighting against…something?
It looked like…a possum.
His possum.
He realized with horror that Lawyer hadn't been in his room last night.
"Damn it, Lawyer!" He cried as he rushed to save his poor wingman, plucking the marsupial off of him.
"I—the—it—what—?" The man fought for several seconds to form a coherent sentence, before giving up and flopping onto the floor with a groan.
Lawyer squirmed in Monarch's grip, but he was much more experienced with handling the critter than his hapless wingman apparently was. He winced as he saw a couple of bloodied scratches on either side of Trigger's face.
"I'm so sorry about Lawyer…he gets bitey when he's scared, he probably accidentally got locked inside…shit, do you need help getting to—"
"No." Trigger gave him Monarch absolute deadest stare he'd ever seen. It was difficult to see under Trigger's mop of hair when it wasn't tied back, but he could vaguely pick out dark bags and tear stains underneath the man's eyes. He stood up slowly, seeming to struggle against his own artificial limbs and needing to lean on the nearest wall for support.
"I'm…going to go take a shower," he muttered. "And…probably get a rabies shot..."
Monarch watched as he left, resisting the urge to correct him because opossums almost never carry rabies, their body temperature is too low to support the virus.
Still. Whatever that was…had not been normal. Granted, his first impression of Trigger had been that nothing about him was normal, but when he contrasted it against the seemingly carefree man he'd met just yesterday, it painted a darker picture.
He waited until Trigger was out of earshot before looking down at Lawyer.
"…What do you think about him? Is he just a dumbass, or..?" He asked, before trailing off.
Lawyer simply hissed in response.
He felt a bit dumb for talking to a possum, suddenly. It wasn't like Lawyer was going to talk back to him.
…Still, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread at the thought of working with Trigger.
…Is he just a dumbass, or does he really just care that little about his own life?
Trigger was almost grateful for the possum that attacked him as he washed his face.
It had scared the daylights out of him, sure, but he hadn't actually been hurt that badly—looking in the mirror, he could see a handful of minor scratches around his collar, but otherwise nothing severe. (He was still going to get that rabies shot later, though. He didn't care if his condition meant he had to take a bus.)
Better yet, it had given him an excuse as to where those scratches on his face from yesterday had come from—the same scratches he was currently trying to dab the dried blood off of with a washcloth that he'd put some rubbing alcohol onto. He hissed as a chunk of blood that had caked onto his skin came off, allowing the alcohol to worm its way into the cracks in his skin.
He was going to have to apologize to Prez later, he realized—he really had screwed up last night. What had he been thinking when he'd run off like that? What had that even been supposed to accomplish?
God, why can't I do anything right?
…
Nemo hadn't spoken a word since he'd woken, but when he flinched in pain from the contact, Trigger heard a very quiet murmur of static.
He sighed. Pretending Nemo didn't exist definitely wasn't going to solve anything. Eye contact wasn't something he'd ever been good at, but he needed to make a point here. He stared directly into the mirror, locking eyes with himself.
"…You're still there, right?" He said to nobody.
…this unit is here.
"You haven't spoken in a while."
father told this unit to stop talking.
The response was short and to the point—very different from the more formal and friendly way he'd spoken before.
"I…Look. We're stuck together. That's…a fact of life for us right now. So we might as well at least try to get along, at least for the moment."
Until I figure out how to get rid of you, he didn't say.
…
father wants to work together with this unit?
"Yeah. For now. It's…clear that us fighting each other's gonna get us nowhere fast. So I want to make a truce. But we gotta come to some understandings, first. For one thing…how did you even get into my head?" He asked.
don't know. memory is corrupted. was going to look and see if you remembered but—
Trigger snarled at the mention of memories. The machine had been sifting through his own; that much, he knew. He at least knew what it felt like now—and he'd somehow managed to sever whatever Nemo had done to control him, though it had hurt like hell. Still, he recoiled at the thought of having this thing read his memories, especially given his…particular life experiences. He shuddered to think of what Nemo might do if he found out exactly who Trigger was.
what is wrong
did this unit do a bad thing again
"Listen. We can work together for the time being, but there are going to be ground rules if you want to hang around in my body. And the first one is this: Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again. You will not rummage around in my memories."
this unit will never do it again this unit is sorry
"Good. Second…" He sighed. "Don't take over my body unless it's an emergency. You…were helpful during that fight, when you warned Monarch. If you need to do that again, go ahead. Just…don't push it. If someone finds out about you, we're suddenly going to have a lot of brand-new problems."
this unit—I see. I will…not use your body unless it is necessary.
…Had Nemo just stuttered? And there was that sudden change in wording again—
He didn't have time to process that thought as the door slowly creaked open, before slamming shut.
"Shit, shit, shit. Sorry. Did not mean to walk in like that." Diplomat's muffled voice carried through the door.
"It's fine, I'm decent anyways. Although I'm, uh…about to take a shower? So…you might wanna go elsewhere," He made up the excuse on the spot.
"Oh. Uh…don't let me slow you down, then. Although the boss wants to have a meeting in about an hour or so, so you should probably be quick about that. Something about where we're gonna go for our next contract, apparently."
"Gotcha," Trigger said with a nervous laugh. "I'll be there."
He waited until Dip was safely out of earshot before addressing Nemo again.
"…Hey. You see everything through my eyes, right?"
That is correct.
"Could you not do that for…maybe fifteen minutes?"
I could temporarily sever my sensory connection to you, yes. Why?
"W-well, I have to take a shower…"
What does have to do with our sensory link?
Trigger groaned. This was going to be an awkward conversation.
Monarch's day had gotten off to a bad start, but he'd taken it in stride. He'd finally coaxed Lawyer back into his cage for the time being, and had quickly gotten ready for Kaiser's little meeting.
Still, Monarch was surprised when Dip of all people pulled him aside before their meeting had even started.
"What is it this time?" He asked.
Dip looked around shiftily, making sure nobody was listening before he opened his mouth. "What's up with Trigger?"
Monarch hid his concern with a scoff. "You've known him for longer than me. All I know is that he's completely whacked and he's buddy-buddy with our crew chief. What about it?"
"Well, I ran into him earlier and was acting…weird. I mean, he's always acting weird, but he was acting even weirder than usual."
Oh boy. He had to hear this. "Go on."
"Well, he stopped as soon as he noticed me, but it kinda sounded like he was talking to himself."
"Wow, Dip, Trigger's acting nuts? Next you'll tell us the sky is blue," Comic deadpanned from her corner of the room.
"Look, I'm serious here! I couldn't really make out what he was saying, but—" Dip's mouth suddenly snapped shut. Monarch followed his gaze.
Speak of the devil.
Trigger poked his head in through the door, before finally committing to entering Kaiser's office.
"…Hi?" He waved awkwardly. He looked a lot better than he had earlier, if Monarch was being honest—the bags under his eyes had receded, and it looked like he'd taken a shower. Any cuts he'd received from Lawyer had mostly faded. All in all, the man looked a lot less like a zombie.
Kaiser looked up from the desk with a thin smile. "Looks like everybody's here. Take a seat, all of you." "This isn't an official meeting, but I wanted to gather the four of you here, given you folks all seem to have an…emotional stake in the matter."
Monarch blinked. "What do you mean?"
Kaiser ran a hand through his hair.
"Well, to put it bluntly, Sicario is sinking right now. We're just not making enough bank to stay afloat. If we don't do something, we're going to end up like the Burloks. That's why I want to speak with you all: I've accepted a contract with UPEO to ensure this company's survival."
The room exploded. Nobody in Hitman Team wanted to go to fucking Usea. All of them had bad memories of living in Usea—ones they'd become mercenaries specifically to escape. Even Trigger seemed pissed, though Monarch didn't claim to know what his reasons were.
Even disregarding their personal experiences with that hellhole of a continent, Monarch hated the idea of going there. Here in Osea, their enemies were mostly easy pickings—pirates, privateers, and the occasional halfhearted rebellion. Sicario's equipment wasn't exactly up-to-date, but their enemies had it even worse. In Usea, though? The Typhoon was considered a lower-end aircraft over there. They'd be massacred if Monarch made a single mistake in his planning.
Kaiser cleared his throat.
"Now, I want you all to hear me out. Since we've reached the end of our current contract, you're all free to leave if you wish. But," he added, "I'm willing to…re-negotiate some of your contracts if need be. Among other things, the three of you," he pointed to Monarch, Comic, and Dip, "will get a significant raise. Double your current rates, in fact."
Mick's eyebrows rose, and Dip put his hand to his chin.
Monarch himself had to think for a moment and do the math. He still wasn't exactly welcome over there, even after all these years, but as long as nobody recognized him…maybe it would be worth it?
"And as for you," he pointed towards Trigger, "…our deal still stands. If you leave, I'll simply take back what I gave you." Hitman's fourth member just sighed in defeat. Monarch had no idea what that was about.
"I'll give each of you three days to give me your answer on this," Kaiser finished. "Just come back here whenever you're ready."
Monarch sighed. The grim smile on Kaiser's face told him that his boss already knew what everyone was going to answer…as usual.
Chapter Notes:
borb :)
(and also possum :))