(A/N): Welcome back to Summer Declassified! I know, you're back sooner than I thought, yes I'm very surprised too. Wanna know what else is a surprise? This chapter, which tops out at just over 30k words. Yes, you read that right. Over thirty. Thousand. Words. That's an insane amount of words in one chapter...and what's even more insane is that most of them were written within the last two weeks or so! (My wrists and thumbs still haven't forgiven me, but they'll come around eventually. They're not going anywhere, and I'm a patient man.)
In any case, get cozy and grab your drink of choice, folks, because this is gonna be a long one! I never intended for this chapter to get so long...but I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!
"Summer!"
The visceral, guttural scream escaped Carter's lips before he could stop himself, watching helplessly as both the falling women vanished into the cyan circle of swirling energy below the catwalks. He was about to formulate a plan to launch someone else - or even himself - into the portal, when it suddenly started to close in on itself. A fraction of a second later, the phase plotter in the pedestal stopped spinning and glowing, and the hole in reality disappeared as if it had never been there at all.
"Gale force winds are picking up!" Dolly cried over her comms. "What in the Sam Hill is going on down there?"
"Some kind of portal appeared in the courtyard for a few seconds!" Nils answered, grunting as Shen rewired his sparking Walker Servos. "And we lost visual with both Weaver and Sierra! I think they fell in…"
"Where the hell did they go?" Knox slammed his shock spade into the ground, sending a cascade of shockwaves into a line of Outsiders.
"I'm hailing Sierra's mic, but there's nothing but static!"
"Shit. Is she gone for good?"
"Have more faith in your Huntress, Alpha. Wherever Sierra is now, I'm sure she'll be fine."
"You're a bloody optimist, aren't you Charlie? Still...I hope you're right…"
"I've got more bad news, Agents," reported Barnes tersely, "You've got hostile UFOs coming in hot! Two Command Ships and six Droppers, with more on the way. I'm also reading Thermals that match the Sectopod that dropped in Roswell, and this time there's three of them!"
Carter swore loudly. The Outsiders really were done playing around. Unsurprising, given how high-profile Axis was, and how important the Forge seemed for the invasion. But the sheer number of troops coming directly for the courtyard where eleven agents were fighting tooth and nail complicated the mission significantly - and given how two Dropper ships and one Sectopod nearly wiped an entire Strike Team in Roswell, fighting against an enemy force three times as numerous with few supplies and defenses was tantamount to suicide.
Especially considering how Summer wasn't there to pull a miracle out of her alien ass this time.
He clutched the missing Huntress's cape and cloak in his hands, his grip tightening. The only thing he had left of her...the only reminder that Summer Rose had visited this world.
Was this war going to take all his friends from him?
Carter was pulled out of his thoughts when Faulke's voice came over the radio, choked and full of resignation.
"...all agents, fall back."
Nils's eyes widened at the sudden change in orders. "But sir! We haven't gotten that bastard's implant! We can't scrub the op, this is too - !"
"I'm aware, Agent Nils," answered Faulke regretfully. "But the mission's been compromised. We've already got two agents who've gone MIA. The Bureau can't afford to lose another Strike Team, let alone two. So fall back to safety and let the Skyrangers bring you home. We'll have to come up with something else to win the war."
Carter bit his lower lip. The fact that the Director of XCOM was dropping field communications protocol spoke volumes about the severity of the situation. He knew Faulke didn't want to pull out, that he wanted them to keep pushing forward and get Axis's Mosaic Implant no matter the cost. But he also knew that they would be marching to their deaths if he had them continue, with no guarantee that the chip would even make it back to the Bureau once it was retrieved.
"...understood, sir," he said through grit teeth. "Everyone, get ready for a fighting retreat. We'll take the path back the way Strike Three came, the one we know is clear."
Nils grunted as his Walker Servos came back to life, pulling himself to his feet as Knox went and threw the still-unconscious Zhedrev over his shoulder. Shen put his tools away and pulled out his plasma pistol, firing in short bursts to make advancing enemies duck back into cover.
"What about Weaver and Rose, sir?" Nils asked quietly, frowning in concern as he picked up his fusion lance and aimed down the sights. "We're just gonna leave them behind?"
"Sierra said she saw Weaver's Skyranger intact and hidden," said Diaz as he flung a smoke grenade to cover the retreat. "So they have a way home, even if we leave. Besides, this isn't the first time she's disappeared and given us all a scare. I'll bet you a few hundred pesetas that she'll turn up somewhere in a few hours and finish the mission for us."
"I'll take that bet," said Dawson, "Though I hope you accept dollar bills."
"Works for me."
Carter grimaced. He knew that what the Supports were saying wasn't wrong, but it didn't scare him any less. Worse, he had to assume Weaver would get transported to the same place as her, and if Faulke's second was still intent on making things difficult, it'd be even harder for her to come back.
But she'd always believed in him, and she'd never given up on the gray-hatted agent even when he was about to give up on himself.
Maybe it was time for him to return the favor.
"Okay, everyone, let's get going. We've got a few minutes before the alien bastards move in, and I wanna be long gone before they get here. Move out."
A chorus of "Yes sirs'' and "aye-ayes'' rang out, and soon enough, every agent ran through the scorched hole in the wall, some of them turning back to fire on the advancing aliens while others sprinted to safety. The fighting retreat proceeded smoothly enough, with the squad crossing back across the rocky path in far less time than it took to push forward. The open maw of the cave loomed to their south, giving way to the network of tunnels within that had been claimed with sweat, blood, and brass.
As he covered the tail end of their retreat, a thought occurred to Carter. XCOM couldn't stay in the area, but there was someone small and inconspicuous enough to keep an eye on things after they left. He turned around and slapped a button on his power pack, launching Silas out of its little canister and watching it land with a plop in front of him. Dawson, who was just about to enter the cave, looked back in curiosity as he watched his Strike Lead kneel and address the loyal little creature.
"Alright Silas, listen carefully," he said to the eager Silacoid. "I want you to stick around and watch for signs of Summer, using the shadows to keep yourself hidden. When you find her, you meet up with her, and then you stay on her like glue until she comes home. You got that?"
He took off his hat and rested it on the little blob's "head", watching as Silas nodded in understanding. Then he folded up Summer's cloak and dropped it in front of the Silacoid, who tilted his head before carefully gobbling up the white fabric.
"Oh sure, you'll let the alien goo monster wear the hat but not your favorite Support," joked Dawson as he shook his head.
"It's a calling card," explained Carter. "Something to help Sierra recognize that this is a friendly Silacoid. Also, don't flatter yourself, you were never my favorite."
Dawson put a hand across his heart. "Oof. That wounds me right here, boss."
"Shut up and run. Silas, you're on your own. Be careful."
The sight of the gray-hatted Silacoid slithering away into the shadows was the last thing Carter saw in the Forge before he turned and ran to follow the other fleeing agents.
Wherever that silver-eyed Huntress was now, he hoped that she could handle herself.
The moment Summer appeared on the other side of the Gateway, she knew she was in trouble.
Falling through the alien portal wasn't an unpleasant experience or even one that felt strange to Summer. Why would it? Her Semblance, Scatter, let her teleport great distances by imagining some other location, splitting herself into rose petals at point A, and then reforming herself at point B. She did it all the time back on Remnant, whether it was showing up at class in her seat seconds before the bell rang, transporting civilians to safety during a Grimm attack, or even reappearing alongside her weapons as she flung them at a nightmarish monster.
So the sensation of starting in one place and ending up in another wasn't a shock to her.
What was a shock was coming out the other end of the portal and immediately entering freefall yet again.
Wind rushed at her face and every inch of exposed skin, whipping past her body and filling her ears with a deafening roar. She tried to open her mouth to take a much-needed breath, but the mere act of inhaling felt like trying to take a drink from a fire hose, and what little air she did suck into her lungs felt thin and unfulfilling. And as she looked down and tried to focus her stinging, watery eyes on what was below, all she could see was a big blur of green and blue, with a huge ugly patch of gunmetal gray in the middle.
The good news was that Summer was pretty sure that she and Weaver were still technically at the Forge facility.
The bad news was that they were far, far, far above it with no way to fly.
OH SHIT.
Summer felt a surge of panic swell up as she realized the futility of her situation. She and Weaver were in complete and total freefall with no parachutes, no time to call for help, and no breath to even scream in their final moments. The brilliance of the Shipmaster's trap dawned on her; create an entrance portal using the phase plotter, bait the humans into it by promising it would give them what they want, then put the other end miles above the surface. If the lack of oxygen didn't kill them during the fall, the sudden and painful stop at the end most certainly would.
The only way the trap could have been more fatal was if the other end of the portal had dumped them out at the bottom of the ocean. Or on the moon, or some other similarly-barren planet. Or into the middle of a star. But those methods wouldn't have left bodies behind, or given Axis the satisfaction of seeing their death - the Shipmaster likely wanted to send a message to any other humans foolish enough to fight the Zudjari, that even the bravest among them would be nothing more than a puddle of splattered intestines, like juicy insects crushed underneath his heel.
And considering how much more blood she and Weaver had than bugs, she had a feeling it was gonna be a very loud message indeed.
A few feet ahead of her, Weaver's body was limp and her eyes were shut as she fell facing towards Summer. The brown-haired senior agent had already passed out from the lack of oxygen, and was blissfully unaware of the fact that she too was falling to her death. Maybe it was better that way, to spend the final living moments oblivious to the quickly-approaching end; Weaver seemed so at peace in her slumber that Summer was tempted to try it. Not that she had much choice in that regard - her lungs ached with each attempt to breathe, and the silver-eyed Huntress could feel herself slipping in and out of consciousness with each passing second.
She was so very tired...so very cold...she could take a quick nap, right? After all, the ground was still so very far away...she just needed to rest her eyes...
No! Dammit Summer, stay awake! You have to get out of this!
But how? This wasn't like Operation Grifter, where she could get away with landing in the water to soften the impact. Once she hit terminal velocity, that was it. End of the line. The moment she made contact with any kind of hard surface - water, dirt, metal, stone - she would be nothing more than a splash of red forever staining whatever was unfortunate enough to break her fall.
Not even a fully-charged Aura could save her at that point.
Summer felt her eyelids droop. Despite her entire body feeling lighter than air, her eyelashes suddenly felt so much heavier. Each breath felt harder to pull in and more painful to push back out. Maybe it'd be easier to stop breathing altogether. Why prolong the inevitable? She could either die now, or she would do it later. Those were her only two options.
Come on, Summer! Fight it! You're a Huntress!
A Huntress...right...she was a Huntress. At least, she used to be, when she was back on Remnant and life had evolved to turn the force of a living soul into a suit of protective armor. But here, where there was no evidence of a soul being anything more than a nebulous religious concept, she was just a person. Just a regular human being falling at over fifty miles an hour, with no way to slow down or save herself. Just another Agent who had a remarkably lucky service record, who had used a sword when most of her allies used guns, and who was about to meet an inglorious fate when she finally hit the end of her fall.
What a stupid way to go. At least back on Remnant, she'd given her life in an attempt to kill Salem. Here on Earth, she was going to die like a first-year at Beacon who hadn't been briefed on landing strategies.
Darkness tinted the edges of her vision again, and once more threatened to fill her entire line of sight. The ground seemed a little closer now than it had been a few seconds ago, but she didn't really bother keeping track of time. The cold bite of the rushing winds seemed to wear off as warmth flowed across her body, and her mouth hung open limply like a fish trying to breathe on dry land. She felt the blood rush out of her face and into her extremities, lolling her head to one side and inadvertently turning herself so her back faced the wind.
No! No no no no no! Don't give up! Don't just roll over and take it! You're better than that! You have to keep fighting! You have to do something! You have to stay awake!
Her inner thoughts, the ones that begged her to stay lucid, became nothing more than a dull whisper as the words had the opposite effect. Her eyes blinked blearily towards the sky as she saw her arms and legs float behind her, hanging loosely and limply like they were made of string. A small part of her mind was glad that she'd been forced to shed her cape in the earlier fight with Weaver - as cool as it would have looked to plummet to her death with the white cloak billowing dramatically behind her like she was some kind of wicked witch in the old movies, the weighted edges would have smacked her in the face the whole way down. By the time she'd hit the ground, she would have had so many bruises she'd unrecognizable - before any trace of her appearance was consumed in a splatter of crimson.
Still, at least she could imagine the sight of her signature item of clothing joining her in death.
Although...if she wasn't wearing her cloak, why did she still see white along the edges of her arms and legs?
Summer wondered about the odd sight for a moment, before writing it off as nothing important. Just another mystery left unsolved, alongside so many others. She would go to her grave a second time with a whole bunch of unanswered questions. Like, how did she come to Earth in the first place? What was the deal with her Aura? And what was the true nature of Mosaic and -
Wait.
She blinked again and brought her hands closer to her face, to double check that the milky white field of energy flowing across her body wasn't just a hypoxia-induced hallucination.
It wasn't.
It was Aura.
Aura!
If she had any air left in her lungs, Summer would have let out the mother of all delighted giggles. Whatever the scientific mumbo-jumbo behind the phenomenon was, whatever theory Dresner had posited, it didn't matter. Right now, she had Aura, and Aura meant Semblance.
And Semblance meant salvation.
Summer was about to pool her energy inwards when she suddenly stopped, looking back over her shoulder towards the ground that still looked far away, yet threatened to come closer and closer every second she wasted. Specifically, she looked at Weaver, who was still unconscious and didn't have the same ability that she did.
Can I save her, too?
She knew it was possible, in theory. She could extend her Semblance to bring others along for the trip, but it required direct contact with the person in question, and the two women were separated by about ten feet as they neared terminal velocity. Furthermore, she had to keep in mind that like all Semblances, Scatter required her to spend a portion of her Aura to power it, and the further away she wanted to travel, the greater the price. At this height, she would already be expending most of her reserves to safely teleport herself - adding another person would greatly increase that cost, and she wasn't sure if she could afford it.
Despite her concerns, one thought dominated her mind.
I'm not leaving her to die.
With grit teeth and sheer force of will, she forced herself to twist and turn in mid-air, ignoring the burning sensation in her lungs and the looming reminder of certain death as she increased her velocity. The wind buffeted and fought against her every movement, but her Aura fought back, forming a living shield around her as she reached out to Weaver. The first time she stretched out her arm, she caught only air. The second time, her fingers brushed against the edge of the woman's jacket. Only by making herself as aerodynamic as possible did she finally pick up enough speed to close the gap, drifting just close enough to grab Weaver's wrist with the force of a vice grip clamping down.
Got her!
Confident that she had her fellow agent safely in tow, Summer closed her eyes completely, though this time it wasn't to fall asleep. She took as deep a breath as she could manage, searching her memory for a good spot to transport herself and her prone passenger. She knew she didn't have enough Aura to teleport all the way back to the Bureau, and going back to the Forge sounded like a recipe for trouble. What she needed was someplace nearby that was safe, secure, and out of the way.
The hunter's lodge her team found earlier swam to the forefront of her mind.
That should work.
Focusing on the image of that cabin near the lake's edge, she let out the breath and pulled the mental trigger that activated her Semblance. The results happened instantly - pale flower petals began to swirl around her outstretched arm, and within seconds both Summer and Weaver were completely enveloped in a storm of white roses.
When the wind scattered the cloud of petals, the two women were nowhere to be seen.
"There we go...see, that wasn't so hard now, was it?"
Taiyang groaned and blinked rapidly as he limped his way down the road back to his house, trying to clear the last vestiges of drunkenness out of his system. Qrow was right next to him, one of the blonde's big arms slung over the shoulder, helping him navigate the dirt path underfoot and making sure the feet didn't trip over themselves.
"I guess...it wasn't that bad…" he grumbled. Then he blinked again. "What did we talk about?"
Qrow sighed. "You know that therapy's not gonna do you much good if you don't even remember it. That literally defeats the entire purpose."
Tai felt his temper flare up. "Look, I'm trying here, I really do want to - "
"I know, I know," said Qrow quickly, patting his friend on the back. "I'm proud of you for taking the first step, even if you only took it cause I shoved you. For the record, you spent most of the session crying and sobbing and telling the Augur all the things you missed about Summer. You talked all about how you want to protect the girls, to make sure they grow up the way she wanted them to, and to be the best dad you can be for them. It was honestly really sweet."
The blonde brawler blinked a few more times. "I...I really said all that?"
"Yep. Said it all while you were drunk as a monk, too. Which means that all that is probably how you really feel about the situation. So now it's just a matter of expressing it in healthier ways. Better ways. Ways that don't involve you screaming at a two-year-old, or abandoning the girls in the middle of the afternoon."
He winced. "Shit...right...I should probably apologize to them for that, huh?"
"Should?" Qrow chuckled as he and Taiyang approached the door to the quaint little homestead right off the edge of Patch, "Tai, you're definitely going to apologize to them."
"I know…" groaned Tai, stepping through the door and back into the house. "But do we have to do it now? I should really be getting supper on for them…"
"The sooner the better. We can all have a nice family dinner later, once we're all on speaking terms again. I'll go and get the girls, see how they're doing and give you a minute to freshen up. You said they're in Yang's room, right?"
Taiyang nodded, and Qrow was about to step away before he finally said the first words of the evening that didn't completely slur together.
"...hey, Qrow?"
"Yeah?" The red-eyed Huntsman turned to face him.
"...thanks. For, well...everything."
The man chuckled. "That's what I'm here for, Tai. Now go and clean yourself up. You look like hell."
With another nod, Tai stepped into the bathroom as Qrow walked away, turning on the cold water and splashing himself in the face before drying himself off with the nearby hand towel. He took a moment to consider the design in the soft cotton, the roses lovingly embroidered within, before he set it down and grabbed a different one. Gathering his courage, he looked at himself in the mirror, and instantly wished he hadn't.
Geez, he thought to himself, examining the mop of blonde hair that grew wild and untamed not just on his head, but all over his face as well. No wonder Ruby and Yang have been so jumpy around me. I haven't shaved in weeks.
He figured he had enough time, so he picked up a razor and started running more water over it, reaching under the sink to get his favorite brand of shaving cream. He was just about to unscrew the lid when he heard Qrow's voice call from across the house, with far more concern than there should have been.
"Tai. You said the girls locked themselves in Yang's room, right?"
The blonde Huntsman frowned. He hadn't heard Yang lock the door after she slammed it shut in his face, but then again, he didn't remember much from that afternoon aside from his outburst. It was possible the four-year-old firecracker had locked it afterwards, so he sort of shrugged and nodded.
"Y-yeah? I'm pretty sure...why?"
"Cause they're not there, Tai."
He dropped the shaving cream in shock, and bolted out of the bathroom in an instant, crossing the kitchen and living room in half the usual number of steps to join Qrow in his eldest daughter's room.
"What? Then where are they?"
"Hell if I know," said Qrow, concern further rising in his voice. "All I know is that the door was locked, I unlocked it and opened it, and when I looked inside, it was empty. Also, the window's wide open." He gestured to the side window, which was letting the cool evening breeze billow into the room.
"It's not like them to just wander off," said Taiyang as he paced, more to reassure himself and walk himself through the thought process rather than panic. "There's no shattered glass or blood, so it's not a Grimm attack. They fact that they left through the window's a bit weird, but I guess Yang thought it'd send a message or something. Is there anywhere you take them that they'd - "
CRACK.
Taiyang froze as his shoe stepped on glass, prompting him to look down and see what unfortunate thing he'd just carelessly tread on. As it turns out, the thing was a photograph frame that was already cracked before he'd crushed it underfoot...and it was one that had gold letters engraved along its silver edges.
TEAM STRQ.
"Oh no."
"Hm?" Qrow looked up from his own musings, only for his red eyes to widen as he reached the same conclusion as his teammate. "That's...that's the frame that sits on the fireplace in the living room. The one with us and Summer and..."
"And the picture isn't there..." said Taiyang with an ever-growing sense of dread. "And if the window's open, they must have left that way and gone looking for..."
"...Raven!" they both finished at once, eyes of both red and blue going wide with fear.
"Shit, dammit, dammit!" cursed Taiyang, starting to berate himself before taking a deep breath to pull himself back from the edge. "Okay. I'm going back into town to ask around, see if anyone's spotted them. I need you to go looking for them. You're the tracker of the team, and you're the one that can turn into a bird. Please, do whatever you can to find them and bring them home."
"Don't gotta tell me twice," said Qrow, shrinking in a burst of black feathers the instant the words left his mouth. The transformed crow took off with renewed vigor, sailing out of the open window as Taiyang ran back out of the room with fire in his eyes and fear in his heart.
He'd already lost Summer.
He would not lose her legacy.
Miles away from the Forge, in front of a calm little cabin in the forests surrounding Upper Klamath Lake, nature continued as if there was no invasion happening at all. A deer drank calmly from a shallow brook, a robin lovingly foraged for worms to feed her baby birds, and a wolf poked and prodded its snout through the soft dirt in search of a small snack. Everything was calm, everything was peaceful, everything was still.
Until white rose petals began to swirl and coalesce several feet above the forest floor, dropping two women unceremoniously with a sickening crunch.
Summer felt the shock of impact ripple through her body, her jaw clenching as every single one of her nerve endings cried out in agony. Her arms reflexively tightened around the unconscious Weaver in her grasp, whose mass she had shifted around mid-teleport to reform on top of her in preparation for the painful landing. Her Semblance might have absorbed most of the speed she and Weaver had built up during their freefall, but they were both approaching terminal velocity by the time she could pull them to safety. She knew that some of that momentum would carry over to the new destination...and while the last of Summer's Aura could absorb the force of landing, Weaver was not so fortunate.
Angela better be at least a little grateful, thought Summer as she watched her soul armor flicker a few times before dissipating in a shower of milky-white sparks. You know, considering that in a state of panic I managed to pull us out of a death dive.
With a whimper and a gasp, she pushed the unconscious senior agent off until she rolled to the side, letting her breathe deeply for the first time in what felt like years. Cold winter air crackled in her lungs and burned her throat, but she still gulped it down greedily in spite of the discomfort. It amazed her how the simple act of breathing felt so novel and invigorating, and she spent a few minutes just laying there on the forest floor, inhaling and exhaling like she had just run ten marathons at once.
She certainly felt like she had, because once the adrenaline that fueled her Aura faded away, exhaustion hit her like several tons of bricks.
Summer almost cried at how tired she felt, and if it weren't for the sound of alien spacecraft humming in the distance, she would have fallen asleep right on the bed of pine cones and grass. Instead, she forced herself to act through the fatigue, pulling herself to her feet with a sharp hiss of pain and an exhausted moan. Once she felt like she could stand without immediately toppling over, she scooped up Weaver in burning arms and limped her way to the hunter's cabin, ignoring the screams of protest from her calves and ankles.
So it looks like using Aura during an adrenaline rush makes the resulting crash about a hundred times worse, she noted. Great. So I can either put myself in dire circumstances and die before I get a chance to use it, or I can feel completely exhausted and close to death afterwards.
She would have laughed at the irony, if she was sure she could without rupturing her lungs.
The wooden stairs leading up to the patio creaked with each step she took, and for a moment Summer wondered if the ancient planks would shatter underfoot. Her fears were unfounded, however, when she trudged up the steps and pushed through the door at the front, which was conveniently left ajar from Knox and Zhedrev's prior searches. The inside of the cabin was cozy without being cramped, with a bed in one corner opposite a fireplace next to a hand-carved rocking chair, a bookshelf filled with maps and hunting manuals lining the back wall, and a table with two matching chairs sitting next to a distillery that had long run dry. Everything inside the cabin was caked in a thin layer of dust, and the only signs of activity came from the pair of Outsiders slumped underneath the windows with slit throats.
It wasn't exactly home, but it would do for now.
Before her knees could give out completely, Summer set Weaver on the bed with all the care of a mother laying a child down for the night, though she refrained from tucking the unconscious woman into the covers. She instead removed the power pack from between her shoulders, propping it up against the stone-cold fireplace and allowing her to properly roll Weaver onto her back with her head supported by the pillow. The brown-haired Recon stirred softly and murmured something unintelligible, but did not wake. Angela must have been just as exhausted as the silver-eyed Huntress, and now that sleep finally had her in its grasp, it seemed reluctant to release her.
Not that Summer could blame Weaver for indulging in the nap, as the overwhelming urge to fall asleep still lingered in her mind, threatening to dull her senses.
The exhausted silver-eyed woman slumped to the floor in front of the bed, letting out an exhausted sigh as she removed her own power pack, then pried off the blood-soaked jacket and stained dress shirt she wore as her new mission uniform. Only a bloodied white tank top still clung to her torso as she examined the injuries on her now-bare arms, wincing as her fingers trailed over each bruise, scratch, and scrape she'd suffered on the mission so far. After making sure that none of the wounds were infected or reopened, she reached down to her hip to check her radio for a signal, only to find a smashed brick of plastic and copper wires sitting there instead.
Well, that's just great, she thought with a sigh. I should have a talk with Weir and Dresner to see about just putting the damn mikes in our Venn Braces. We've already got everything but the kitchen sink crammed in there, so adding some radio bits shouldn't be too hard. Right?
A shiver rippled across her bare skin and pulled her from her thoughts, forming goosebumps along her arms. She looked wistfully at the fireplace with a longing sigh as she hugged herself - as much as she loved the idea of a roaring hearth right about now, the smoke rising out of the chimney would be a clear sign that they were alive, and the Outsiders would swarm them like rapier wasps descending on honey. So she settled for the next-best thing: grabbing a blanket off the top of the bookshelf to wrap herself in, using another sheet to cover up the dead Outsiders while she was at it.
Cloaked in a soft blanket that was just as cold as the rest of the cabin, Summer let out a cloudy breath as she sat down on the floor, picking up Weaver's power pack and setting it on her lap. She wasn't sure what she was going to find, but she was hoping that the rogue agent at least had the foresight to pack a radio of some kind. But as she opened it and started pulling out the contents, her hopes faded with each item she retrieved. She found spare bullets for a Springfield rifle, an extra cloaking module, two additional batteries for the shield generator...and an old leather wallet.
That's...odd. Why would she bring something so sentimental on such a dangerous mission?
Summer debated whether or not to look inside the wallet, and she knew she really should have just put the item back and pretend she never found it. But curiosity got the better of her, and she opened it up to find three different, well-faded pictures tucked into the folds.
The first picture was a black and white photo of two little girls, six and nine years old respectively, embracing each other on a grassy hill on a colorless spring day. They wore white sundresses with no shoes, the younger of the pair had a crown of flowers woven into her hair, and both of the girls boasted smiles that encompassed their entire face. It was an adorable image, one that almost made Summer's heart melt on the spot. She also noted, to her amazement, that the older girl's darker, wavier hair was already chopped short and had enough strength to lift the younger girl completely off the ground, meaning there was zero doubt who this little girl was.
Directly across from it was a scrap torn out of a larger sketch that had since been lost to time, depicting two stick figures with scribbly hair holding "hands" with bright smiles. The wax of the crayons had long since peeled away from the paper, but stains of gold and brown clung to the heads of black shadows with the remains of the letters "E + A" written underneath. Another sketch was tucked into the corner, this time of a detailed butterfly drawn with faded graphite. The disparity in skill between the pieces was on full display, and Summer wasn't sure if the two works sprang from the hand of two different artists, or the same artist separated by time. Either way, they must have both been important enough to Weaver for her to carry around. Maybe it came from the other girl in the first picture?
And finally, the third picture seemed like it had been clipped out of a newspaper, depicting a young girl with hair turned light gray by the lack of color, with the words "MISSING" in bold print under the photo. The paper was stained by tears that had long since dried, and it looked crumpled and wrinkled from years of abuse. The eyes and smile matched the same one of the smaller girl in the first picture, albeit a little older, and Summer's heart sank as the dots connected into her mind. Here, clear as day, she had an inkling of insight into Weaver's mind right in her hands.
Oh, Weaver...is this why you are the way you are? What could have happened to turn such a sweet little girl into a woman so steeped in anger and violence?
The click of a hammer cocking into place pulled her out of her thoughts and confirmed them at the same time, followed by the sensation of cold steel pressing into the nape of her neck.
"Give. It. Back."
Summer froze for the faintest of a moment, before she sighed. Really? Weaver was still doing this? The Huntress considered herself a patient, even-tempered person, but at that moment, exhaustion, fatigue, and frustration wore away at whatever goodwill she had for the woman currently jamming the barrel of a revolver into her head. So she could be forgiven for dropping the pleasantries entirely and letting herself speak her mind.
"You know what, Weaver? You're right. I don't understand you. You wanna know why? Because I've lived most of my life with the knowledge that while people can be cruel when they want, there's always that little bit of goodness inside someone that just needs to be coaxed out. But you seem determined to prove me wrong at every single turn, to take every single chance I've given you and throw it back in my face along with a handful of broken glass. And quite frankly, I'm sick of it. And I'll bet a lot of other people are, too, and what happened today sure as hell hasn't changed much."
She took a chance and turned her head somewhat to shoot a glare at Weaver, who was more than eager to return it.
"Case in point - you took the bait that Axis laid in front of you with no hesitation, dropping the both of us into a portal without any idea what was on the other side. A portal that spit us out miles above the Forge, with nothing waiting for us except a nice chunky splat at the bottom of our fall. Because why the hell would Axis just give you what you want? He knows you wanna kill him, and he probably knows that we want his implant! Did you honestly think he'd keep his word? His people want to turn us all into brainless slaves, for crying out loud!"
Silver stared into steel blue, the former burning hotter while the latter seemed to freeze.
"And you know what? That's not even what pisses me off the most about you. What really burns me up is how you treat others, how you treat me, like a nuisance at best and an obstacle at worst. You know what most people say when they wake up from a hypoxia-induced nap? They say things like 'Where am I?' or 'What happened?' or maybe even something nice like 'Oh wow, Summer, thank you so much for saving my life! How'd you do it?' Y'know, basic shit like that...instead of, oh I dunno, threatening the person that saved their ass at gunpoint like a goddamn psychopath. Oh, but I'm sure you didn't need saving, right? That's what you said back before you almost got us both killed, at least, so you probably had that under control too!"
The gun at the back of her head trembled ever so slightly, but Weaver's glare was as strong as ever. Summer could tell she was almost through the officer's layers and layers of emotional barriers, almost through the armor she wore to avoid exposing her pain to others. She just needed to push a little further, a little deeper, and she'd finally get through to Weaver. The real Weaver.
"But hey, what do I know? I'm just XCOM's perfect little alien princess, isn't that right? A sweet little angel from another world who eats pure sugar and craps rainbows! An imposter who's never done anything wrong, who's never had to struggle or work for anything, and who almost certainly doesn't spend every single night crying into her pillow at the thought of a home and a family she'll never see again! What do I know about suffering? Huh? Why don't you tell me?"
Weaver was still silent, though her lower lip was trembling.
"Oh...that's right. You don't know me! And I don't know you, because you've never given me a chance! You think that just because you're hurting, you have to suffer alone and shoulder on because no one else could possibly understand your pain. Well I've got news for you, Angela - you're not the only person who's suffering! We're all hurting, we've all lost things, we've all got a stake in this war, and if you keep pushing everyone away then one of these days you're gonna get shoved right back! So are you gonna put that thing away, take a seat, and tell me why you've got such a big stick up your ass about this Axis guy? Or am I gonna have to bend you over, pull it out myself, and whack you over the head with it until you start treating me like I'm a human fucking being?!"
And just like that, the shell shattered.
Silence hung in the air as Summer finished her tirade, panting for breath and bracing herself for the bullet that more than likely would punish her for running her mouth. Instead, she was rewarded with the sight of Weaver dropping her glare and her hand, staring down at the gun that trembled in her grip before she finally clicked the safety into place.
"...you're right," she admitted quietly, as if apologizing too loudly would make her spontaneously combust. "As much as I hate to admit it...you're right. I messed up. I'm...sorry. I shouldn't be threatening you, but I saw you with the wallet and I just...reacted…"
Silver eyes softened as they looked into steel blue. "I'm sorry I went through your things," said Summer. "I was looking for supplies, or something we could use to contact home base. But you see what I mean? We can't be at each other's throats right now, Angela. We have to work together if we want to get out of this. Do you understand?"
"I know. I know...it's just…" Weaver squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "What you're holding, it's...it's all I have left of her…" she finished weakly.
Ah. There it was. The real source behind the anger, laid bare for the Huntress to see. Summer's gaze softened further as she pressed the leather wallet into the woman's hands, removing the revolver from her grip and setting it aside.
"Who is she? And what did Axis do to her?"
"Not Axis himself, but...it's a long story," choked Weaver, who took the wallet and sat on the bed, kicking off her boots and curling up into a ball as she clutched the old worn leather like it was a lifeline. "You sure you wanna hear it?"
The silver-eyed woman let out a chuckle as she knelt at the foot of the bed. "Considering we're stuck here until security lightens up around the Forge…I think we've got time."
Weaver stared pensively at the picture in the wallet. "It's been so long since I told the story...hell, I'm not even sure where to start…"
"Let's start at the beginning, then. What's her name?"
"Evangeline Aurora Weaver. Or Lena, for short. My little sister, five years younger than me but five years brighter and wiser than I could ever be. My own little light in the darkness."
Summer nodded in understanding. "You were close?"
"Our home life wasn't the greatest," sighed Weaver as she nodded. "Mom and dad were always fighting, always angry at each other, sometimes before we even went to bed. When they finally decided to stop pretending everything was normal and split up, dad managed to get custody despite him being the one that ruined everything. We made the most of it, though; we took walks around the neighborhood, explored the fields and the forests around our home, ventured into the wilderness for hours at a time, and made up all kinds of silly games with no rules or scoring that she'd win anyways. I did...everything I could to make her laugh, to brighten her day just a little bit."
A hint of warmth and mirth rose in Weaver's voice as she fidgeted with the wallet. "There were just...so many little things I did that meant nothing to me, but meant the world to her. Lena couldn't swim, so I'd carry her on my back as we crossed rivers on our treks. She adored butterflies, so I'd stand as still as a board and let dozens of them land on me while she sketched them out. She was afraid of snakes, so I picked up and threw away any of the legless bastards that got too close...even the poisonous ones. She loved the stars, so I'd take her up to the biggest hill and lay in the grass with her as the sun went down, carrying her back home when she inevitably fell asleep. I promised I would do anything to make her smile...as long as I got to see her happy at the end of the day, no matter what else happened, it was a good day."
Weaver's grip tightened on the wallet. "Until one day...it wasn't enough."
Summer's heart sank. "What happened?"
"We were out in the cornfields, trying to see if any of the stalks still had ears on them that the farmers had missed. I was seventeen, Lena was twelve, and we were both hungry and finding nothing but having fun at the very least. I don't remember how long we were out there, but what I do remember is that at some point Lena falls behind and gets lost, and as I'm backtracking to find her, I hear this weird humming noise. Then there's a scream. Her scream. I run as fast as I can into a clearing, I look up at where the sound is coming from...and all I can see is some kind of weird disc hovering way above my head, pulling my screaming, struggling little sister out of sight before disappearing into the sky."
Steel blue eyes narrowed. "Years later, I'd find out that it was an Outsider Scout Ship."
Silver eyes widened. "The Outsiders? They were there? But...I thought they've only been hanging around Earth for the last six months or so. Why would they be there when you were a teenager?"
"This invasion didn't happen all at once," explained Weaver. "People had been disappearing from the countryside months, years, even decades before Groom Range got attacked. But with World War Two in full swing, the Korean War happening not long after, and all the tension building between Uncle Sam and Comrade Ivan, there wasn't much room in the papers dedicated to a few random people going missing in the middle of nowhere. I used to think that people who made claims like that were just doing it for attention, or trying to capitalize on the Roswell craze...until I saw it happen with my own two eyes. As I saw my own sister, the one good thing in my life, get taken away while I couldn't do a damn thing to help her."
Summer bit her lower lip.
"I tried to tell everyone about what had happened. Cops, teachers, pastors, anyone with any kind of authority. As you can imagine, though, no one would listen. Some people laughed. Others scolded me for wasting time. Dad shut down and convinced himself he'd never even had a second daughter, getting violent and angry with me whenever I talked about what I saw. My boss at the deli shop fired me on the spot when I threw a knife at some asshole who implied I killed Lena myself. Everyone in that stupid little town in the middle of nowhere thought I was just some hysterical young woman making up stories to deal with the trauma of losing a loved one, who was delusional at best and outright psychotic at worst. All except one person."
"Faulke?" guessed Summer.
Weaver nodded. "He took me in, told me that he was getting people together to fight those aliens and bring back all the missing people. His scientists had theorized that the random abductions were happening for these 'Outsiders' to use as test subjects for some kind of bio-weapon, something that got confirmed years later when Patient Zero showed up about eight months before the invasion happened in full. He believed that since only a hundred or so people had been reported as missing, the aliens would be taking good care of their specimens, keeping them alive as they worked to make a human version of what we now call the Sleepwalker virus. And that meant that Lena, my Lena, was still out there somewhere, waiting for her big sister to come and save her. I took Faulke up on his offer without a second thought, left my dad in a drunken stupor, and never looked back."
Summer nodded. "Family can be a powerful motivator. Did you know what you were getting into?"
"Faulke trained me himself," continued Weaver with a nod. "He taught me all about being a soldier, an agent… a weapon. He, Weir, and a few other of his friends fought in World War Two, so they knew a thing or two hundred about military tactics, squad cohesion, and weapons operation. I was one of the first wave of recruits in the Bureau, right alongside DaSilva, Bradford, and Redmont, and the training we went through would eventually become the basic instruction for every agent class going forward. More people came on later, like Kinney and Nils, or Cole and Vahlen, and it wasn't long before I rose through the ranks to become Faulke's best agent...at least on the field. Off the field, in the downtime between ops and investigations, I was a nightmare."
Was? Summer thought to herself, though at least she had the courtesy to keep herself from saying it out loud.
"With all that Agent and soldier training came a hair-trigger temper and a...less-than-friendly disposition," admitted Weaver with a sigh. "All that anger at the aliens, at the nebulous entity that took Lena from me...it never went away, and since the Outsiders weren't waging open war against us at that point, I didn't have an outlet for that aggression. So it ended up spilling out in just about any conflict with the other agents, where I'd pick fights with anyone over the smallest of things. How they talked to me, how they talked about me, even how they looked at me...there was a running joke that I was responsible for more injuries than actual field operations."
"Ouch," Summer winced sympathetically. "Harsh."
"They weren't wrong," said Weaver with a shrug. "It got so bad that Faulke had to do some extra training with me, teach me how to clamp down on my emotions and focus on a single goal. Compartmentalize, rationalize, suppress any emotions that weren't related to the mission. I started as a hot-headed raging broad that would kick your ass for checking out hers, and I turned myself into a stone-cold bitch that could kick your ass, but didn't think you were worth the time and effort. And men think that's a lot more intimidating, for some reason."
"And you were okay with that?"
"I was a woman trying to make her way in a man's world, Summer. Nobody respected me. They'd call me a glorified secretary, or imply that the only reason I was so high up on the chain of command was that I had yanked on Faulke's other chain, so to speak. So if I couldn't make them respect me or my accomplishments, then I was gonna make damn sure that they would fear me. I didn't have the time or the patience to deal with simple-minded men and their fragile little egos - there were lives on the line, even back before Groom Range was attacked."
That...made a great deal of sense. Every interaction she'd had with Weaver, all the little ways people reacted to her presence around the base...it all began to fall into place in Summer's mind. Her conversation with Jackie during Operation Grifter made it clear that Earth and Remnant just didn't see women the same way, and that ugly legacy had forced Weaver to pretend to be something she wasn't as well. The steel-eyed Recon agent hadn't gone so far as to dress up like a man and hide her femininity, true, but the transformation was evident all the same. Yet at the heart of the stone-cold exterior she'd built for herself, the soul of a little girl still burned with rage at an alien race for taking away the only family she'd ever loved...and smouldering with anger at herself for letting it happen in the first place.
And now that the alien at the head of it all - the same monster that guided the ship that stole her sister - had revealed himself, Weaver finally had a name and a face for said anger to latch onto. A concrete target that she could finally shatter with her own bare hands if it meant purging herself of that pain.
Summer understood it perfectly.
But that still didn't make it right.
"So you had to learn how to suppress yourself, ignore parts of you that caused trouble, in pursuit of your revenge against the aliens," said Summer in realization. Then she looked up at the officer. "But did you ever figure out how to turn it off?"
Weaver raised an eyebrow. "Why would I? It's gotten me this far."
"Maybe it has, yeah. But it's also gotten you - and me, by extension - trapped behind enemy lines with no backup, no way to contact the Bureau, and no safe way home," countered Summer, her face hardening slightly while her eyes softened. "Just because you suppress and ignore your anger doesn't mean it goes away. It just festers and grows, feeding on your other emotions until it overtakes you like a rot. And then...the bigger it gets, the greater the chance for losing control at the worst possible time."
"Like today?" said Weaver as she bit her lower lip.
Summer nodded. "We had one chance to get Axis's implant, and it all fell apart because you couldn't let go of the anger you had for the Shipmaster. And now we might never get another shot at a target of that caliber, meaning that we won't be able to use the phase plotter, we can't get the Avenger project off the ground, and XCOM's best plan to win the war just got shot in the foot. If nothing else, Angela...I want you to understand that. Your anger might have cost us everything today...what will it cost us tomorrow?"
The brunette woman went quiet, trying to glare at Summer but failing when faced with the truth. With another sigh, the Huntress reached forward and clasped both her hands around Weaver's, squeezing the woman's palms and fingers gently yet firmly.
"What happened to Lena was not your fault. It was an accident, something beyond your control. Your anger towards Axis for directing the invasion that took your sister...it's more than justified. But you can't let it consume you, and you can't let it drive you, or else it'll destroy you and leave nothing but a husk behind. I don't want to see that happen to you...and from what you've told me, I don't think Lena would want that either. But you know her better than me - how do you think she'd react if she could see you now?"
Weaver's breath hitched, as small tears formed in her eyes. "I...she would've said...that I was being like dad…I...oh god…what have I..."
Sensing a flood of tears, Summer instinctively stood up and pulled Weaver into a hug, fully accepting and expecting the woman to push away or maybe stick a knife in her back. But Weaver did neither of those things, instead she simply whined softly and stained the Huntress's tank top with tears that had been bottled up for decades. She even tried to raise her arms up, likely in an attempt to return the embrace, before letting them fall back to her side, gripping the sheets of the bed as the full weight of her actions sank in. Summer didn't let go until the woman in her arms stopped shaking and shuddering, rubbing the back of her neck and soothing her softly.
"You've been through a lot," whispered Summer, "and I have nothing but respect for that kind of strength. I mean it. You're...one of the strongest people I've ever met. And now that I know the real you, now that I've seen your pain, I can honestly say that you're even stronger than I thought. But you don't have to carry the weight of the world by yourself anymore. Let me help you carry it. And let others help you carry it too. It's the only way we've gotten this far - on both Earth, and Remnant."
Weaver made a sort of choked noise, nodding in agreement (and rubbing more tears into Summer's clothes as she did so). The silver-eyed huntress just stood there comforting the steel-eyed officer, and for a moment, a peaceful silence settled over them.
The silence was broken by the sound of something scratching at the cabin door.
Reality snapped back into the minds of the female agents all at once, as they separated and whirled to face the source of the noise. With a wordless nod, Summer picked up Wandering Thorn and approached the entrance from the right, while Weaver grabbed her revolver and covered the left. They pulled back on the door ever-so-slowly to reveal…
…a Silacoid on the front porch with a very familiar-looking hat.
"SCREEEE!"
"Silas!" Summer squealed in delight, stowing her sword and opening her arms for a hug. The tamed alien launched itself at her affectionately, slithering around her bare arms and nuzzling its "face" against her forehead affectionately as she giggled.
Weaver, on the other hand, had a very different response. "Oh...good," she said with no enthusiasm in her voice, "Whiskey left his pet behind. How delightful."
The Silacoid hissed at Weaver, but a flick from Summer changed its tune. "Hey. Don't be mean. We literally just had a bonding moment about this."
The brunette shook her head with a sigh. "...yeah, sorry. I guess...old habits die hard."
"That's alright, as long as they die eventually, that's all that matters," replied Summer as she gave Silas scritches under its "chin" with her thumb and forefinger. "So, what's the plan now? I don't hear the UFOs humming anymore, so should we head back to your Skyranger and make our escape?"
Weaver raised her eyebrow once again. "What are you talking about? We've still got a mission to finish."
Summer blinked in confusion as Silas straddled itself across her bare shoulders. "We? What mission? What are you talking about?"
"Faulke wants that Shipmaster's implant, right?" Weaver stowed her revolver and moved back over to the bed. "We need it to win the war. Well, as long as we're still in the neighborhood, we might as well grab it and bring it back with us."
Before Summer could say anything else, Weaver tilted the mattress against the back wall and pulled out the top board of the base, urging the Huntress to come and look. When she sighed and crossed the room again, she and her pet Silacoid were greeted with the sight of a hidden stockpile of gear, weapons, and tools in the hollowed-out space below the mattress. What caught her eye immediately was a pair of Springfield rifles already fitted with SCOPEs, suppressors, and sling mounts; Weaver took one for herself and handed the other one off to Summer, who inspected it carefully.
"Not bad," she said with a nod. "You set all this up in advance?"
"You took your sweet time coming after me, so I figured I might as well do some prep work." The brunette agent slipped her boots back over her stocking feet. " And as it turns out, Skyrangers are a lot faster when they're loaded up for a solo op, instead of having to carry six agents plus whatever gear they bring."
"I believe it. Though why ballistics? If we're going after Axis, shouldn't we be using fusion lances and plasma rifles?"
"Can't exactly strap a suppressor or a muzzle break onto those," answered Weaver as she loaded up some bullets and pulled back on the charging handle. "A good gunpowder rifle loaded with DEAF rounds is just as good at taking a Muton's head off its neck at a hundred yards, not to mention a helluva lot more subtle than a big glowing blast of plasma. The M1903's been in service for about sixty years now - she's a sniper's best friend, and even if she doesn't have all the bells and whistles of a space raygun, she's still as reliable and efficient as they come."
Summer nodded as she felt the smooth wooden grain of the stock, pressing the stock against her shoulder and checking the SCOPE. She could feel the history and power contained within such a simple yet important weapon, combined with advancements in alien technology to bring it in line with the Bureau's other arms. A fine weapon, for as dangerous a mission as this.
"Makes sense. So we're going with the stealthy approach?"
"It's the only sensible option. With the amount of troops posted at the Forge, a head-on assault would be suicide. You and Carter managed to do a decent job pushing through to the courtyard at least, but if you went any further you all would have been slaughtered, even without Axis calling in for backup. So rather than storm the front door with guns blazing, I figured the best option would be to sneak into the facility. Like I said earlier, I had a huge lead before you all came in and started blasting, and most of it was spent finding the place and scoping it out. Once I found the Forge and got a good visual, I started mapping out blind spots, patrols, and hidden entrances...and like any good scout, I wrote it all down."
Weaver pulled a sheet of paper out of her front pocket, unfolding it and showing Summer a highly-detailed map. "See, this is the path I was gonna take earlier," she explained, tracing her finger along a dotted line. "where I'd slip through the wall when no one was watching, scale the interior, and use the catwalks to get inside the main facility. Of course, the fact that you and I had our little fight there means that we can't go in that way anymore - they've gotta have extra troops posted in and around the courtyard, probably waiting for the splatter from our landing that never came."
"Which means that there'll be a lot of aliens looking for us, dead or alive."
"Exactly. Good news is, there's another route I was considering as a backup, and it involves hugging those stone paths as we take the lifeboat across the lake, staying out of sight and slipping inside the Forge near the pumps. If we're doing this - and we are doing this - then that's probably our best option. I have a spare cloaking module, which you're gonna be using once we're inside. We'll be spotted instantly otherwise."
Weaver rolled up her map again and tucked it into her jacket. "Any questions?"
Summer had to admit, she was impressed. She nodded in approval, but then paused.
"Um...don't get me wrong, this is all well and good, but…" Summer sighed "...none of this matters if we can't get Axis's implant. If we kill him without yanking it out, it'll just burn up inside his skull like all the other Outsiders. We need an extractor to pull it out, and the only ones our squad brought were carried by the Supports...so I don't have the one tool we need to do this."
"An extractor…" hummed Weaver. "You mean one of these?"
The brunette reached into her boot and pulled out a small gray tube, one compact enough to fit in the palm of her hand but housing a strong enough motor to power a clawed drill that could cut through alien flesh and bone. Summer laughed in disbelief.
"You can hold onto it for now," said Weaver as she passed the device to Summer. "It was chafing something fierce when it was shoved down my sock. Just don't smell it like a weirdo."
Summer took the extractor gingerly and carefully, tucking it into one of the many, many pockets on her olive drab skirt. "You...wow. You really did have this under control, didn't you?"
"I'm not stupid, I know how important the Avenger Project is. I was only gonna kill Axis after I got that thing out of his head." said Weaver defensively. Then she bit her lower lip. "Although...I suppose I could've communicated that better."
Summer laughed again. "Yeah...I mean, you took off all angry-like, shot at us when we tried to help you, and almost strangled me during our fight. A quick heads-up or something before all that would have been nice."
Weaver winced. "I...guess that's true. Shit...I really screwed the pooch on this, huh? God, I am not looking forward to getting read the riot act by Faulke…"
The silver-eyed Huntress laughed and gave a supportive smile. "Who knows? Maybe he'll be in such a good mood when we show him the Shipmaster's implant, he'll forget all about your insubordination!"
The steel-eyed Senior Agent stared at her unlikely partner. "...you know, I'm still not sure whether I should respect your sense of blind optimism, or be disgusted and freaked out by it."
"You could always do both," said Summer sweetly as she snapped a fresh battery into her pack, feeling the kinetic barrier spool up as soon as the burnt-out core was replaced. "Alright. So we have guns, we have ammo, we have cloak modules, medkits, shield spheres, flashbangs...we have a plan, and most importantly, we have an extractor. Is there anything else we need to bring with us?"
"I think that's everything. Let's head out, take the raft, and make our way inside the Forge. Then we find that Axis bastard and crack open his - "
The sudden noises from Silas - akin to a dry-heaving cat - cut Weaver off mid-sentence, as both women turned to watch the Silacoid on Summer's shoulder as it swelled up and barfed out an all-too-familiar bundle of white cloth.
Summer's eyes widened as she squealed delightfully, while Weaver just groaned and sighed in utter disgust.
At the very back of the Forge, where the defensive walls merged at the midpoint of the trapezoidal perimeter, a single large chamber sat isolated from the rest of the facility. Unlike the cramped space within the rest of the Zudjari's hub structure, this chamber was open and expansive, with a single large azure crystal hovering in the center of the room. Three of the four walls were lined with replicas of ancient weapons forged out of pure alien alloys, while the last one was exposed to the outside world, covered in a translucent barrier that protected the sacred shrine while still allowing a perfect view of the world about to be conquered.
This was the Throne of Mosaic, and it was here that Axis stood as still as a statue.
The Shipmaster's bulky, muscled frame twitched with anticipation beneath his armor, the fingers on his sole remaining organic hand curling up involuntarily. His other arm, the one formed out of a living crystalline material that glowed with amber energy, hummed and vibrated as it pressed against the Relay at the heart of the Throne. The back of Axis's neck burned as he felt the full force of Mosaic's network flow into him from the crystal through his specialized implant, feeding the collective memories of every Zudjari that had ever set foot on this miserable little planet into his mind.
And so far, he was disappointed.
This world...this planet...it should have been an easy conquest. The most dominant species were a race of ugly and brutish bipedal mammals, who had seemingly evolved from primates yet had the nerve to consider themselves enlightened and intelligent. Early scouting missions had revealed their militaries to be expansive, yet mundane, with a pathetic excuse for science and culture that only existed to both justify and deny their violent behaviors. A simple race, with simple ideas and simpler weapons.
It should have been an easy victory.
So why was it not?
Axis furrowed his brow as he searched deeper within the well of collective memories. Answers slowly came together in his mind as he sampled visions of a handful of these "humans" fighting with stolen Zudjari weaponry, protected by stolen Zudjari barriers, and using those stolen items to storm encampments and procure more supplies. Elerium, alloys, laser and plasma armaments ...this small group of humans had somehow put their feeble little primate brains together to organize a resistance movement, one dedicated to delaying or even repelling the invaders with their own technology.
Such arrogance.
Still, this resistance should not have lasted as long as it did. After all, the Sectoids had tried to fight back as well, but they lacked the power and resolve necessary to hold their own for very long. And while the Mutons willingly allied themselves with the Zudjari for a chance to see new worlds and hunt new creatures, Axis had no doubt that even a race as strong and warlike as the brutes could put up a meaningful struggle. So why were the humans succeeding? What was so special about them?
And why did so many of these memories revolve around that strange human with the silver eyes?
A twinge of annoyance flickered through the Shipmaster's mind as he heard footsteps behind him, signaling the presence of another. A lowly sacriligious Commander made its way through the long hallway that led from the courtyard into the sacred sanctum. Unbidden. Uninvited.
Unwelcome.
"Oh great and mighty Shipmaster," said the Commander as it fell to one knee. "The humans that have been assailing the Forge have completely retreated, and the search for the ones that fell through the Gateway has concluded. I am pleased to report that there is no sign of them anywhere, not a trace of them as far as the eye can see."
Axis let out a low growl as he retreated from the well of memories, turning to face the Commander unaware of its grave lapse in protocol. He snarled and clenched his organic fist, pooling energy around the intruder and yanking it forwards with invisible hands. The arm made of living crystal snapped forward with lightning speed to catch the Commander by the throat, filling the Throne with the sound of scraping stone and choking cries.
"Pleased? Pleased?!" Axis snarled at the foolish Zudjari in his grasp, "You interrupt my important work to glibly announce that you are pleased to have found nothing?! If there is no sign of the humans that fell, then there is no body. And if there is no body, then there is a chance that they are still alive! Tell me how that can be possible, worm! Why is there no sign of them?!"
The Field Commander's throat was being squeezed by at least four thousand units of pressure, but it still managed to squeak out a coherent reply.
"We saw...the silver-eyed devil do something while she fell...there was...a burst of organic matter, and then...they were gone, the both of them…"
Axis growled and brought the Commander closer, doubling the force of his grip in the process. "What do you mean? The one with silver eyes… where is she from?"
In its last moments, the Commander gurgled out two words that struck fear into the Shipmaster's hearts for the first time in hundreds of stellar cycles.
"...from...Remnant…"
Axis's blood-red eyes widened with recollection as he released his grip on the now-dead Commander. Remnant...the world of the Grimm...the first, and last, failure of the Zudjari. The war for which he had served as a lowly Infiltrator, who watched helplessly as his prior Shipmaster was torn in half by shadowy monsters. It was that same campaign that saw his ascension to overseer of all following conquests, as all others before him in line for the title perished on that damnable planet.
His crystal fist tightened as he turned back to the Relay, waiting for the memories of his dead subordinate to join the collection before placing his palm against the beating heart of Mosaic's proxy once more.
As he watched, as he learned, he found himself forced to conclude that these humans were receiving some alien help of their own in the war for their world.
And perhaps...not all of that aid came from Remnant.
The sunless afternoon had given way to a moonless night by the time Summer and Weaver's little boat approached the edge of the Forge. The dense cloud that had clung to the sky refused to fade away, denying even the stars the right to shine down. Despite having her cloak returned to her by Silas, the silver-eyed Huntress still shivered in the cold winter air, goosebumps forming on her bare arms. Her jacket and shirt had been so blood-encrusted that once the red stains had dried out, it made the clothes impossible to put back on, so the warmer parts of her uniform had to be stored on Weaver's Skyranger for the time being. She was certain that Crawford could work a miracle to make them wearable again...but that was little comfort to Summer, who only had her signature white cape to shield herself from the freezing winds.
"Don't worry," whispered Weaver as she pulled on her paddle again. "It'll be warmer once we get inside. Should be coming up on the pump station right about...now."
Right on cue, the sight of a massive water funnel rising up out of the lake's surface came into view, popping out of the fog as if it had appeared out of mid-air. Other details soon became visible as well, such as a green-gray platform that wrapped around the sides of the spout, a wall just as undecorated and plain as the steel dock, and ghostly blue lines in each surface that shone with hauntingly cold light. It was similar to the Elerium-powered pump that Summer had seen (and ridden) at Lake Michigan...except this one was much, much larger.
Silver eyes tracked the trail of rising water. "Is there a reason that we're not riding this pipe into the Forge? Seemed to work pretty well when Jackie and I did it."
"We're not doing that because I hate getting my hair wet," said Weaver dryly. At Summer's raised eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. "You'll see the real reason why soon enough. For now, step off the edge and ditch the raft. We should be far enough away to avoid getting sucked in, but swim for the furthest edge of the platform just in case."
Summer was about to open her mouth when Weaver tipped back and fell into the water, surfacing a moment later and swimming expertly towards the steel dock. She looked back at Silas, who was already worming his way into her power pack to avoid getting wet, before she pinched her nose and took a breath before falling back herself.
SPLASH.
If she thought the air was cold, the water made it feel like a hot desert day. A cry of shock escaped her mouth in a cloud of bubbles as she clawed her way back to the surface, which was thankfully only a stroke or two away. Fighting against the weight of her sopping wet cloak, she gasped and made a few slow, strong breast strokes towards the glowing blue lights, following the dark-haired woman ahead of her as she swam quietly and carefully.
Since Weaver had a head start, she reached the platform first and pulled herself up and out of the lake with practiced ease, shaking herself dry and wringing the water out of her hair. Summer accidentally swallowed a mouthful of lake water during her swim, but she still managed to reach her destination easily enough. She had just grabbed the edge of the dock before curiosity got the better of her, prompting her to look back at the now-empty boat as it disappeared into the reverse waterfall, the current sucking it up and lifting it higher and out of sight. A moment later, the sound of rubber being shredded pierced her ears, making her wince while she was still in the water.
"That's why," said Weaver as she leaned over the edge, offering a hand down to the Huntress. "Guess the Outsiders plugged up that little security leak in the months since we hit their Lake Michigan tower."
Nodding with a suppressed shiver, Summer grabbed the offered hand and let Weaver help pull her onto the platform, where a rush of warm air blowing upwards from below greeted her. She let out a strange cross between a yelp and a giggle, feeling the burst of warmth completely dry her clothes and hair in the blink of an eye. The moment the two women took a step forward, the blast of air lessened, though heat still rose up from the alien steel and banished any remaining chills from her system.
"Hah...toasty," breathed Summer with a soft laugh, "Does that come standard on all Outsider facilities?"
"Hell if I know," said Weaver with a shrug. "The Forge is built over some kind of geothermal vent that's been buried for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Whatever they're doing here, it must take a lot of power to operate - more than even Elerium can put out."
"How do you know so much about this place?" said Summer as she shook the remaining water droplets out of her hair. "And how do you know that there's a geothermal vent?"
"I used the SCOPE to see through the walls and map out the entire facility," Weaver replied matter-of-factly.
"...the whole facility?"
"I was very thorough."
Summer just shook her head in amazement, before looking around. "This place seems like such a marvel of engineering. I almost feel bad that we have to break it eventually."
Weaver shot a strange glance at her infiltration partner.
"What? I said 'almost!'"
"I heard you, I just don't agree. Enough chatter, time to go dark."
Summer nodded as she reached for the disc-shaped device on her belt, clicking the central switch into position. A moment later a light-refracting kinetic barrier expanded to fit her form, concealing her body and anything else she was holding. If one were to look closely, they might catch a glimpse of a faint outline that resembled the alien Rose...but she didn't plan to stand still long enough to let that happen.
Weaver similarly disappeared next to her, though the low-level radiation that emitted from Summer's Venn Brace made the Recon agent visible to her and her alone.
"Follow my lead," whispered Weaver, "and tap your heels twice if your module's getting too hot. There aren't many spots where we can let the cloaks vent, but they're around. Just a matter of getting to one before we're caught out in the open."
Summer nodded, then after realizing she couldn't be seen, spoke back in a whisper just as soft.
"Okay. I'll be right behind you."
With a nod of her own, Weaver led the way deeper into the Forge and away from the water's edge, moving quickly and quietly up flights of stairs and through doors and hallways. The dim lights of the glowing panels along the walls guided the invisible women deeper into the facility, past large storage rooms and machines perpetually in motion. Mutons, Drones, and various types of Outsiders wandered past them with agendas and tasks of their own, paying no mind to the silent shadows that slipped past their senses.
The cloaking module on Summer's hip grew warmer with each passing second, eventually feeling as hot as a stone left out in the sun. Anytime she felt the device reach scorching temperatures, however, Weaver led her to a small alcove where they could hide in the shadows the old-fashioned way, staying behind low cover and keeping as quiet and still as they could while they waited for the modules to cool off. Silas slithered out of Summer's pack to serve as a sentry during these venting detours, sitting at the corner and alerting her and Weaver to any enemies that came too close, where the two women would work together to take down the patrolling enemy quickly and quietly.
It worked, for a while. Until a heavily-armored Muton Elite came a little too close during one of their short breaks.
Summer held her breath and hit her still-discharging cloak module as the massive alien brute stepped around the corner and into the alcove, the huge snout beneath its armored mask sniffing the air and rumbling softly. It came closer, and closer, each footfall as loud as thunder as the silver-eyed Huntress lay flat on the ground, scooting backwards to keep the Muton's face from shoving into her chest. Just when it seemed like she was about to be discovered, some kind of thrown object clattered down the hall the brute came from, instantly getting its attention. With a low growl and a frustrated hiss of steam from its mask, the Muton Elite finally turned around and sulked back into its usual patrol, no doubt irritated it wouldn't get to kill something today.
Only when she was sure that the armored giant was gone did Summer finally dare to breathe again, turning her cloak back off just before it could start to burn her skin.
"You okay?" whispered Weaver in between pants of her own as she reappeared, stowing the other knife she had prepared to throw as a distraction.
"Y-yeah…" gasped Summer. "Just...too close for comfort, is all. Nice save there with the knife."
Weaver gave a shadow of a smirk. "That particular trick's saved my life more than once. Now it's saved yours, too."
Summer nodded with a breathy chuckle. "I'll have to remember that one. How much further do we have?"
"If I had to guess, we're about halfway there," answered the officer as she pulled out her map. "We're looking for a terminal connected to the psionic network, ideally one located in a security station. I have a Tech Commander's chip stored in my Venn Brace, so once I plug into it we'll know exactly where Axis is. Hopefully."
Summer raised an eyebrow. "Hopefully?"
"You got a better idea?"
"Well no, it's just...we don't know how much longer Axis is gonna be here. So sneaking around this maze of hallways might not be fast enough. Isn't there a shorter path to one of these terminals? I assume you've been taking us the safe way."
Weaver hesitated, biting her lower lip before nodding tersely. "Well...there is. But…"
"But?"
"...it takes us right through where they make the Sleepwalkers."
Summer's heart sank, her stomach churned, yet her brow furrowed all the same. It made sense why Weaver didn't want to go through there...but they didn't have the luxury of avoiding an unpleasant sight.
"Then let's make sure we don't stick around for too long. You know the way, lead on."
Weaver tightened her grip on the rifle, but nodded stiffly as she toggled her cloak module again, stepping back out of the shadows. Summer did the same and followed closely, while Silas slithered up her leg and back into her pack. The path they took this time was direct and straightforward, slipping through a set of sliding double doors at the same time as an Outsider entered. Rather than continue to follow the alien, the women climbed up a ladder and over a set of catwalks that overlooked the main chamber...and immediately regretted doing so.
"My god," whispered Weaver, stopping in place as her eyes widened. Summer was about to chide her for freezing before she did the same, staring downward with quivering silver irises.
There, about twenty feet below the catwalks, a massive chamber was filled with Outsiders, humans, and a handful of Mutons. A bubbling pool of ink-black fluid in the middle of the room immediately grabbed their attention, as it swirled like a witch's cauldron as water and chemicals of unknown origin were continually fed into the whirlpool. Some of the humans stood around the vat in loose formation, barely moving or making a noise as they stared into space with empty eyes. The rest of the humans screamed and slammed their fists against hardlight prison cells, desperately crying for release that would never come. Summer watched, horrified, as a Muton approached the cell of a woman in a scarlet dress, the barrier falling away as the warden came close.
Oh no.
The woman immediately tried to run as soon as the edge of her prison disappeared, but the brutish beast grabbed her by the blond hair and yanked her towards the pool. Despite her tearful cries for mercy and her constant attempts to claw at the alien captor, she was powerless to stop the Muton from forcing her to kneel at the edge of the pool, letting out one more terrified scream before her head was forced into the water. She struggled and spasmed as she fought the urge to breathe, releasing gurgling yells that were lost to the slurry of fluid, but the bubbles stopped rising a moment later, and her body fell limp.
Summer's first thought, her first hope, was that the woman had drowned...but that would have been far more merciful than the reality. When the Muton pulled the woman's head back out, there was no gasping, no coughing, no resisting. No sign that she'd been forced underwater for an extended period of time, or even fought at all in the first place.
Only black fluid streaming down her face where tears should have been.
A new Sleepwalker had been born.
"Gods, these...these monsters," breathed Summer in fury as she saw the woman rise to her feet to join the others standing at the edge. "Is this how they infect everyone?"
"Probably not everyone, just the initial carriers," hissed Weaver through grit teeth. "I'll bet this is how they spread the virus. Get a few people infected, ship 'em off to some major city center, guide them to poison the water supply with the stuff, then wait for more cases. Once enough of the population gets infected, broadcast the control signal to make them do their bidding, and once the work's done, just leave them to wander around like blind, deaf sheep."
"Would it really spread that fast, though?"
"If they target the water mains, yeah. Plus, there's still some places here where folks barely wash their hands after anything, not even after wiping their own ass. In those kinds of conditions, with that many people, a disease can spread like wildfire. And these Sleepwalkers make one hell of a first spark."
Despite the even tone of her voice, Weaver's hands trembled as she gripped the rifle even tighter. "...they probably got to this optimized procedure by doing experiments on the abductees. Which means that Lena had to go through this several times over...and probably even worse methods that didn't work…"
Summer reached out and put a hand on Weaver's shoulder before the officer could do anything rash. Weaver stiffened, but did not move to pull away.
"Angela," she whispered softly. "Listen to me. We will find her. We'll track down Axis, kick his ass, take his implant, and then we'll make him tell us where she is. And if we don't get answers today, I promise that I'll do everything in my power to make sure you're reunited with your sister by the end of the war. That's my vow to you, as a Huntress, an ally, and a friend. Okay?"
Weaver's eyes, still transparent from the cloaking module, began to water as she jammed in one trembling palm to stem the tide.
"Okay," she choked out after a moment, taking a deep breath to regain her bearings. "Okay...okay. There's a security checkpoint just up ahead. The catwalks lead into a vent, which feeds into the station and opens up right in the ceiling of that room. It's our best bet for finding a terminal."
"Good," said Summer. "Let's get out of here, then."
Without looking back down at the horror show happening below as another two Sleepwalkers joined the lineup, the women made their way across the room and came up to a ventilation shaft secured by a grate. Summer pulled out one of her alloy-infused knives and sliced through the cover, allowing them to crawl quietly through the surprisingly spacious passageways. When they came to the opening above the security checkpoint, however, they were greeted by the sight of a Shield and Tech Commander standing at attention directly below the vent cover, plasma rifles at the ready to fire on anything that came into view.
"Shit," spat Weaver, "we can't do anything unless they're dealt with. And the slits are too small to shoot through, so we can't take them down from in here."
Summer pursed her lips. "Maybe we can't...but I know someone who can. Get ready to move as soon as I give the signal."
"What signal?"
"You'll know it when you see it. Silas?"
Weaver could only watch in confusion as the Huntress clicked her tongue a few times, calling on the Silacoid sleeping in her power pack. She whispered in its "ear" for a few seconds, then the little creature warbled quietly, slithering down her arm and slipping through the cracks in the vent cover before landing inside the station with a loud plop. The Commanders, predictably, turned to face the noise with raised voices, only to tilt their heads and hum questioningly at the sight of a seemingly-ordinary blob of corrosive gel literally dropping out of the vent. Silas cooed and chirped as it snaked underfoot, drawing the gazes of the Outsiders with them.
Summer prepped her knife to cut the grate open once again. "Now."
With four quick slashes, the woven pattern of metal bars were sliced through and caught with Summer's free hand, pulled out of sight and set aside gently without a sound. Weaver nodded and dropped down into the new hole, landing almost silently and crouch-walking up behind the distracted Tech Commander. The Recon looped her rifle around the alien's windpipe and jerked back forcefully, which prompted Silas to launch itself at the Shield Commander's face to blind, deafen, and suffocate the alien officer. Summer joined her allies inside the checkpoint moments later, finishing off Silas's prey with a quick slit of its throat just as Weaver snapped her target's neck with a twist of her rifle.
The pair of Outsider Commanders choked on their own fluids before passing silently in the arms of their killers.
"Nice, simple, and clean," said Summer proudly as she stashed the dead officer under a steel desk. Then she watched her Silacoid slither off the corpse with a delighted grin and wide silver eyes. "And it's all thanks to you! Yes it is! Oh, who's a good boy? Who's a good little Silacoid? Is it you? Is it you? I think it's you!"
Silas trilled under the attention and vibrated happily as Summer rewarded it with a shower of scratches and affectionate praise that eventually devolved into baby talk.
Weaver sighed as she hid her kill as well. "Okay, fine, I'll admit...I'm starting to see the tactical use of having one of those things on our side."
Summer grinned as she squished Silas's "cheeks" between her palms. "See? I knew you'd warm up to this handsome boy right here. Just wook at his wittle face!"
The steel-eyed Recon stared at the cooing Silacoid and its beaming, proud owner, equally repulsed by them both.
"...I'm still not petting it, though."
"Meanie."
Without even bothering to retort, Weaver stepped past the pouting Huntress and moved to the holographic terminal along the wall, pulling out a braided cable from her Venn Brace and plugging it into the console. After Silas had been sufficiently praised for his good work, Summer joined her as the Silacoid slithered back into her power pack. The officer barely acknowledged the Huntress's arrival, brow furrowed as she hummed thoughtfully and examined the controls on the base of the terminal. With the click of a few buttons, the display changed to show a complete map of the facility, complete with glowing dots that moved along hallways and corridors in real time. These dots were accompanied by bizarre alien symbols and characters, but a literal flip of a switch on the Venn Brace translated them into rough approximations of letters in the English alphabet.
"Ooh, nice," said Summer, nodding her head. "That's kinda like what Chulski used in comms to translate Axis's conversation, right?"
"The very same tech, courtesy of Doctor Weir," confirmed Weaver. "I couldn't make heads or tails of this if I was just working on it by myself. The good doctor spent the six months before the invasion studying every single broadcast, to build some kind of program capable of interpreting their language. So now that we're tracking all the Mosaic Implant signals, we just need to find which one belongs to Axis."
"Mind if I give it a try?" Summer asked innocuously. "This reminds me a lot of the scrolls back home, which we operated by touching the picture. It might work like that here."
"Go ahead," said Weaver. "But if you trip an alarm I'm leaving you behind."
"Fair enough. Now let's see…"
Summer hummed thoughtfully as she stuck her fingers into the holographic display, feeling for some kind of haptic feedback. To her surprise (and delight) she felt the same tingle in her fingertips that using a scroll had given her, and as she moved her hand around, the picture changed as well. She spent a few moments hemming and hawing as she tested out the controls, making the map display larger, smaller, and everything in between.
"Okay so...if we're here, that means that this is...hmm...and that's that...no idea what that is...ah! I found him!"
She pointed excitedly to a glowing blip that was larger than the others, conveniently labeled as "Axis." Weaver squinted, then consulted her map.
"...okay. But where is that?"
"Looks like some place called the 'Throne of Mosaic.' It almost looks like it's part of the back walls along the Forge's perimeter, across the courtyard behind the facility itself."
"That's over a thousand feet of wide-open terrain," said Weaver as she shook her head. "We'd never make it there quietly. And that's a lot of signals standing guard between the Forge and the Throne, so fighting our way there doesn't sound feasible."
"What if we get inside the wall, then?" Summer offered. "Maybe we could try our luck sneaking through there?"
Weaver scoffed. "If you thought the inside of the Forge was well-defended, the security inside the perimeter makes this place look like it's staffed by amateur cops guarding a playground. Even with the cloaking modules, we'd get caught within minutes."
"Well we have to do something!" Summer hissed. "There's gotta be a way…"
The two women hummed thoughtfully, before Weaver pointed at the screen. "We could try our luck on the Weapons Development floor. Might be something there we can use for ourselves."
"Works for me," Summer agreed with a nod. "How far is it?"
"On the other side of the Forge. Good news is, there's an underground network of small tunnels right below our feet that'll take us there. Some kind of waterway system, if I had to guess, and this station passes right over it. Just gotta know which way we're going, and we should get there no problem."
Summer smiled as she spotted the grate in the corner. "Well that's convenient."
"It's probably for the Sectoids to get around the base easier," speculated Weaver, "in a way that's marginally less dangerous for them than getting squished in the halls during their commute. Remember how this whole facility's built on a geothermal vent? The deeper down you go, the hotter it gets, and water acts as an excellent heat sink. Considering how the Outsiders treat the Sectoids as slaves, I doubt they care if a few of the little bastards get stewed alive."
Summer stopped smiling.
"Don't worry - we've got more meat on our bones, so it'll take longer for that to happen to us," offered Weaver, misinterpreting what Summer was horrified about, "Long as we keep moving, we'll be fine."
"...is that supposed to be reassuring? Cause I don't feel very reassured right now."
"It's either this or spend another two hours sneaking around in the hallways. Your choice, Rose."
The Huntress gulped, then sighed as she sliced open the grate on the floor. Weaver dropped first with zero hesitation and landed with a splash, her Venn Brace automatically lighting up her surroundings. Taking a breath and swallowing the lump in her throat, Summer joined her in the dark waterway, feeling warm, sticky fluid seep up to her waist and soak into every bit of fabric she wore.
"Ugh." Summer wrinkled her nose. "Gross. You're telling me the Sectoids actually willingly go through this crap?"
"Hey, Dresner says they like soaking in warm water, so this might be like a mud bath for them," said Weaver as she waded through the sludge. "Must remind them of home. Don't worry too much about the smell, it'll wash out. Probably."
"...has anyone ever told you that you're really good at making people feel better? Because they were lying."
"It's why I'm a soldier and not a shrink. Come on. The sooner we move, the sooner we can get outta this shit."
The thirty-minute trek through the miry, murky water canal was probably the worst half-hour Summer had ever spent on Earth. Thankfully, it was as uneventful as it was disgusting, and soon enough she was back on the ground floor of a heavily-guarded alien factory, which somehow seemed more welcoming and appealing by comparison.
"Going silent," whispered Weaver, disappearing from sight as she toggled her cloaking module once again. Summer followed suit, and the two unlikely partners slipped back into stealth mode as they made their way through the alien structure.
In contrast to the claustrophobic array of hallways, vents, and watery tunnels, the weapons development portion of the Forge mostly consisted of open-air rectangular rooms with walls formed of hard light barriers, along with steel doors that connected the various sectioned-off spaces. Each partitioned area seemed to be dedicated to some new kind of experimental piece of technology, diligently constructed and tested by (or sometimes on) Sectoids that proudly presented their devices to an attending Outsider. As Summer and Weaver passed unheard and unseen through the various interconnected labs, the silver-eyed Huntress found herself torn between marveling at the beauty of the gadgets on display and dreading the day they would be mass produced to use in the war effort.
Most of the devices they saw seemed half-constructed or fully destroyed, the corpses of the inventors still staining the ground or leaning against wrecked malfunctions. But there were a few that caught Summer's attention, intact enough and far enough along in their development that she spent a moment examining it with silent fascination. A stationary turret that combined the accuracy of lasers with the power of plasma. A backpack that seemed to connect to a pair of smaller Rotary Plasma Cannons that were attached to pintle mounts on the hip. An alien-looking mortar that rained down bursts of energy. Finally, a gauntlet that was capable of projecting an exceptionally powerful kinetic barrier mounted to the arm like a knight's shield.
The last of those devices, the wrist-mounted barrier, had a dozen or so completed prototypes just lying on the table with the attendant Outsider's back turned away; by the time Summer's shadow finished passing over the table, all the prototypes had mysteriously disappeared.
"Score," breathed Summer with a grin as she slipped all of the ill-gotten gauntlets into her power pack. "I'll bet Weir would love to get a look at this."
Despite the fact that they were both invisible, the silver-eyed Huntress could feel Weaver glaring at her.
"Don't judge me," she whispered defensively. "This is the whole point of why we came here - to see what they're working on, and swipe it."
"I know, but be more careful," warned Weaver. "We don't know what tech is good and which one is a time bomb waiting to go off."
"I figure if it's got bodies laying around it, it's probably bad tech."
"A fair assessment. Now let's - "
The sound of metallic thumping drowned out the rest of Weaver's command, and Summer's breath hitched in her throat at the sight of a Sectopod trundling down the halls between rooms, mechanical alien noises echoing from its speakers. Only when it came closer did she realize that this alien mech wasn't roaming around looking for her - it was just another prototype in a floor full of new weapons.
Still, this particular Sectopod seemed even more dangerous than the one she'd fought before.
For one, this hulking war machine was big. Much bigger than the one she'd already seen, to the point where it could easily dwarf an Ursa Major. The next thing she noticed was that this Sectopod had six legs instead of four, a torso that was longer than it was wide, a triangular profile that sloped upwards towards the back of the machine, and instead of one gatling-like plasma cannon between its front legs, there were a pair of repeating blasters on independent swivels mounted to the nose of the craft. Other weapons such as the missile pods and the pintle-mounted blaster were similarly repositioned and improved upon, with no less than three of the top-mounted lance launchers swaying back and forth independently.
But the biggest difference revealed itself when the prototype Sectopod backed into its designated lab space, and the angular canopy opened up to reveal a pair of Outsiders sitting within. The machine powered down moments before they jumped out, cackling with pride and anticipation as they reluctantly walked back to their regular patrols.
So pleased were they with their joyride, in fact, that the Outsiders completely forgot to restore the hard light walls protecting the now-unoccupied alien tank.
"So they made a Sectopod that can fit them instead of a Sectoid..." mused Summer. Then she looked at Weaver with a grin. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Weaver raised an eyebrow in confusion...then her eyes widened in comprehension.
In the dim light, Summer could have sworn she caught a glimpse of a rare sight on the Senior Agent's face.
A smile.
"Still no luck, huh?"
Penny sighed and rubbed her tired eyes, setting her glasses down on her comms station as she stifled a yawn. The warm arms of Catherine Crawford snaked around the back of her seat and looped around her waist, pulling her into a hug from behind. The eccentric Recon leaned into the exhausted Engineer, who was still volunteering to be a communications operator and still staying far beyond her usual shift. If the Bureau had the funds to pay overtime, Penelope Cohen had a feeling she would break the bank with how often she stayed late, especially in a circumstance like this.
That circumstance, of course, being Summer going MIA once again.
"Nope," groaned Penny, reflexively laying her hands on Crawford's forearms, leaning her head back into the warm shoulder. "Thought if I stayed here past my shift again, I might be able to pull another miracle out of nowhere. Like I did during the Rosemont operation. But nothing's happened…"
"Mmm. Nothing's happened yet." Crawford's voice was as playful and melodic as ever. "I think that's the important part. Who knows? Maybe one of the radios will start spouting gibberish and you'll decode the message again."
The brown-haired little comms operator wanted to explain statistically how unlikely it would be for the same thing to happen twice, especially with multiple people monitoring every available frequency, but the energy just wasn't there. What was there was the warmth of Crawford's breath on her ear, the tenderness of arms squeezing her torso, and the smell of wild untamed long black hair falling in front of her face. It was a nice sensation, but a small part of Penny felt guilty for indulging in it so publicly, especially with those aforementioned operators so close by and casting glances at the pair.
"Cathy…" she pleaded uselessly, "people are staring. We shouldn't be doing this right now..."
"Mm. Do you want me to stop?"
Penny blushed. "N-no…"
"Then who cares if people watch? Honestly, they have way more important things to do right now than judge us." Crawford raised her voice as she looked away. "Isn't that right, Patton? Keep staring, and all your pants might mysteriously end up in the Editing Room's shredders."
The young man nearby instantly ducked back behind his station with a quiet "oh shit."
"Yeah...that's what I thought. Peeping Toms these days, I swear."
Penny gave a soft little giggle. That was...quite the compelling argument. The soft cheek nuzzling against her own was even more convincing. She sighed and relented to the cuddles, drinking in the warmth and affection from the strange yet loving young woman at her back.
She wasn't quite sure what she and Crawford were yet, and she was too afraid to ask. She knew that ever since the date following Operation Hawkeye that they were closer than just friends...but did the odd Recon agent actually see her as girlfriend material? Or was she just flirting with her because she liked making Penny feel embarrassed? Sure, they cuddled and held hands and things like that, but she'd been too afraid to move past that. They hadn't even kissed yet.
Is she just trying to help me get over my feelings for Summer? wondered Penny idly, or is this her way of processing her own feelings about Haywood's death? I know that he wasn't very good to her, but...having someone that close to you die has to have some kind of effect. Or maybe I'm just overthinking this and girls do it all the time as friends...I honestly don't even know anymore. I just want some kind of concrete sign that she loves me, something that not even girls who are close friends would do...
"Oh! I remember why I came down here from medical," said Crawford suddenly, pulling Penny out of her negative spiral of thoughts. "Well, besides wanting to see you, of course. I was gonna see if you could try tapping into the Outsider's psi network thingy again, see if there's any new chatter from the ground troops around the Forge."
The idea was appreciated, and it would have been welcomed if it hadn't occurred to Penny beforehand. "Already tried that, Cathy," she said with a sigh. "Didn't get anything but basic marching orders. I've checked it six times."
"Well, who knows? You might find something interesting if you check again. They say that seven is a lucky number."
"It's not a matter of luck, it's a matter of - "
"Please? Do it for me?"
Feeling the last of her resistance crumble away at the glimpse of Crawford's puppy-dog eyes, Penny fired up the alien-human signal converters and started twisting the dials and knobs while flicking the switches.
You're a fool who'd do anything for a pretty girl, Cohen.
"Alright, but I must warn you, it's not very interesting," she said aloud, "Usually there's a lot of dead air between transmissions, so don't be disappointed if - "
" - ipmaster, I repeat! We have a situation in the Weapons Development lab!"
A pair of unfocused hazel eyes suddenly went wide with alertness as she pressed the headset closer to her ear, unsure if she'd actually heard what she thought she did. Crawford leaned against the other side of the speaker, trying to listen to what had made Penny suddenly so much less tired.
"You dare interrupt my communion with Mosaic to tell me about a situation?!" growled a deeper voice.
"That's the guy we heard taunting Summer and Weaver in the Forge," whispered Crawford. "Axis, right?"
Penny nodded, but said nothing as she focused on the words being said. The auto-translation software was patchy, and left gaps in the attempts to rearrange the vocalizations of the Zudjari into something resembling English, but the human mind was able to fill in the blanks well enough.
"Forgive me...I would not intrude if it were unimportant but - AIIIEEEEEE!"
"But what? What is the meaning of this? Hello?...stars above, will someone please tell me what's going on?!"
"There is a containment breach!" called another Outsider, a different-sounding one. "Repeat, we have a containment breach in Sector…"
A containment breach? In one of the Zudjari's most secure facilities? That was enough to convince Penny this was worth more attention, slipping the headset off her ear and sighting up slightly to call above the edge of her desk.
"Chulski? Something's happening at the Forge. Something that has the Outsiders all...scared and worried. I think Faulke should else hear this."
The equally-exhausted Chief Communications Officer glanced over her own stack of papers, before sighing. "Put it on speaker, Cohen. I'll give it a listen, and then I'll decide if it's worth - "
With the flip of a switch, the booming voice echoed through the entire communications area.
" -ainment breach? What sort of containment breach?! What the seventeen hells were you working on?"
"Forgive us, Shipmaster! We attempted to modify the Sectopod so that it may be operated by the Zudjari...but it has been hijacked!"
"Hijacked?! By who?!"
"By the silver-eyed devil! Gahhhhhh!"
Penny's eyes went wider than ever, and even Chulski sat up in her chair with surprise. Then the woman in charge of all the Bureau's comms narrowed her gaze as she started barking orders.
"Stations Alpha through Delta, get this recorded! Echo station, relay this to the Director's desk! Foxtrot, continue monitoring the transmission! Golf and Hotel, check other frequencies within the range for additional details! Let's move, people - Agent Rose is still alive, and it looks like she's doing our work for us!"
As the comms area of the Bureau became a sudden hotspot of activity, Crawford leaned against Penny once again, though this time the operator had a full view of the woman's grin.
"See? I told you that seven was a lucky number."
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and feeling flustered at the way the wispy young woman was looking at her, Penny blushed and chuckled softly. "Yeah...yeah, I guess it is."
"Mm-hmm. And it's about to be even luckier."
She didn't have a chance to ask what that even meant before Catherine Crawford leaned in and kissed her on the lips.
Guess that answers that question, thought Penny, before she closed her eyes to return it.
BOOM.
The alloy wall of the Forge exploded into scrap and shrapnel as a six-legged Sectopod stormed out of the main facility and into the courtyard. The back two legs dug into the ground to slow the alien tank down, skidding to a halt as it slid across the steel floor. In the newly-created opening, emerald flames grew and consumed everything within, the hijacked war machine leaving a trail of fire, destruction, and death.
And Summer could not be happier.
"Hah! You see that?" she said with a grin, looking back at her co-pilot. "Did you see the look on that Muton's face when we crashed into him?! I didn't even know they could make that kind of noise!"
In the seat behind her, Weaver groaned and clutched her head. "Ugh, yes. Yes, I saw him, and I told you five times not to flatten him and break the wall."
"Well, it's not my fault the brakes are trash!"
Steel-blue eyes rolled so hard they nearly came out of their sockets. "Jesus, I thought you said you knew how to drive this thing."
"I said I had a hunch on how to drive it! I never said I knew I could!"
"You distinctly said -!"
The argument was cut short as platoons of Outsiders and Mutons converged on the prototype Sectopod and began to open fire, sending volleys of plasma into the alien steel. Despite the thick armoring, the heat began to bleed through, and tiny spots of orange began to appear on the interior. Summer scowled.
"Okay fine," she snapped, "you think you can do a better job with the wheel? Give me weapons control, and you drive!"
"Fine by me," said Weaver as she flipped a switch on her controls, the green and blue lights on her and Summer's consoles swapping to the opposite colors. The lever-mounted handlebars in front of the Huntress flipped from a horizontal alignment to a vertical one, indicating that she now had full control of the Sectopod's armaments. The inverse happened in the seat above and behind her as the officer immediately jerked her controls to the right, making the Sectopod strafe out of the way of enemy fire and slide to a perfect stop.
"Alright," said Summer with a grin as she locked on with her weapons. "Who wants to dance first?"
A trio of mutons took up her unheard offer, surging forward with surprising speed. But Summer was quicker on the draw than they were, aiming the forward guns at the bold brutes and cutting them down in twin repeating blasts of plasma. Then she fired the rocket pods at the Outsiders grouping up into firing squads, sending them running out of cover long enough for her to blast them with the front cannons as well. Weaver kept the Sectopod on the move at a moderate speed, avoiding most of the retaliatory shots and allowing her gunner to get clean shots on flanked targets. When a Muton Elite soared upwards on jet boosters to open fire with his own cannon, the top-mounted guns swiveled in unison and tore the armored monster to shreds with three combined lances of pure emerald energy.
Summer giggled darkly as the toughest alien she'd ever fought was reduced to chunky salsa, which earned her a glare from her co-pilot.
"You're enjoying this way too much," deadpanned Weaver.
"And you're not enjoying this enough!" Summer countered. "Come on, we're sitting in a near-indestructible alien war machine with full control over its arsenal! At least try to have some fun when you can?"
"Oh, so it's fun you want, huh?" said Weaver with a raised eyebrow. "Then watch this."
The Sectopod picked up speed as it rushed towards the wall, and for a moment Summer was afraid that Weaver was going to crash them both. Her fears were unfounded, however, when all three legs on the left side suddenly dug into the ground, the linear momentum suddenly translating to angular rotation as the mighty metal machine turned on a dime. The front of the Sectopod was suddenly facing a rather large group of Outsiders setting up a heavy cannon emplacement; a long volley of plasma from the main guns ensured that it would never be completed.
"Well? Was that fun enough for you?" Weaver asked with the shadow of a smirk.
Summer just grinned. "Hell yeah it was! Do it again!"
"I swear, you're an actual child. Remember our target, though. The Throne's up ahead, through that archway."
"Right." Summer nodded. "Let's clear a path through these guys, then we go after Axis."
"You're the one with the guns. Let me know when you're ready."
"Floor it!"
Armed with a multi-ton prototype war machine, the fight to the Throne was easier done than said. Steaming alien blood of all colors flew in the wake of burning green bolts, blazing red missiles, and armored gray legs. Summer kept the forward guns firing at almost all times, hosing down anything in front of the Sectopod while the pintle guns picked off tougher targets that tried to flank them. Weaver maneuvered all six legs in near-perfect unison, strafing the infantry and weaving into the gaps cleared by her co-pilot's relentless barrage. When they finally made their way to the open arch, the Huntress fired every rocket still in the pods and sent them streaking into the night sky, half of them exploding among the alien troops.
The other half of Summer's final salvo struck the wall in sequence, with enough force behind each successive explosion to rain down chunks of alloyed rubble. The debris and sections of plating landed right behind the Sectopod as it left the courtyard, piling up in front of the archway and separating the war machine from the battlefield it left behind.
"Now they won't try to follow us," explained Summer. "so we don't have to worry about reinforcements interrupting our fight."
"Good thinking," said Weaver with a nod. Then she peered out the transparent metal canopy, narrowing her eyes as she searched the new, unfamiliar room. Summer did the same, silver irises scanning back and forth as she surveyed their arena for the final showdown with Axis.
It was a strangely spacious and lavish chamber, about forty feet wide in all directions with a domed ceiling four stories overhead. Only three of the walls were made of the same alloys that the Zudjari used in all their constructs; the exception was the north wall, which seemed to be made of the same fortified barrier material that the Bureau had in their shield spheres. Unlike the rest of the base, which boasted little decoration to break up the monotonous gray-green metal walls, the Throne of Mosaic had floor-to-ceiling banners woven out of crimson thread, as well as a literal red carpet that extended all the way to the archway. Other pertinent details included the wall-mounted weapon plaques that proudly displayed alien blades, golden characters stitched into the banners that seemed to shimmer with their own light, and a massive floating azure crystal in the center of the room that seemed to hum with ephemeral energy.
Summer's eyes narrowed as she saw everything except the Shipmaster.
"...okay, this is weird."
"It is," agreed Weaver with a low snarl. "We know he's here. So where is the bastard?"
The answer came in the sound of reality tearing itself apart, which almost drowned out the sound of creaking steel.
Oh shit.
"Weaver! Bail out, now!"
Summer almost couldn't hear herself as the Sectopod suddenly became weightless, pulled up off its insect-like feet as though it were being hoisted up by invisible strings. The sensation was followed by the cockpit suddenly becoming smaller and smaller, as the invincible war machine began to fold in on itself. Thinking quickly, Weaver slammed on the emergency release button, letting her and Summer drop safely out the bottom of the tank as the alloys finally caved in, and they landed just as their ride got crushed into a brick like it was an empty soda can.
The two women instinctively dove out of the way as the floating, compacted Sectopod suddenly slammed down, leaving a dent in the floor from sheer impact. They rolled to their feet and faced the portal, with Summer drawing and igniting Wandering Thorn while Weaver aimed down the sights of her trusty Springfield.
They thought they were ready for whatever would emerge from the northern Gateway.
They were wrong.
Out of the portal came the biggest, meanest Outsider that Summer had ever seen. At least, she thought it was an Outsider - given how it towered above them at a staggering ten feet tall, it could have easily passed as a large Muton if it wanted to. Not helping the species confusion was the fact that its left arm had been replaced by a clawed, angular construct of living crystal, which glowed with amber light as its clawed quartz fingers curled into a fist twice as large as a human hand.
The crystal arm wasn't the only thing that separated the newcomer from its smaller kind. It wore a suit of armor that completely covered everything from the neck down, protecting its entire body in three thick inches of crimson and black metallic plating. A blood-red cape hung from its shoulders, an obsidian-black faceplate was connected to tubes that disappeared beneath the massive teardrop-shaped shoulder pauldrons, and the lack of helmet meant that Summer could see several centuries of battle scars on its leathery face and scalp. This was a Zudjari who had lived far longer than others of his species, and every day of that long life had been spent either preparing for a fight, or finishing one with its own two hands.
It could only be Axis.
"So this is the silver-eyed devil that sparks so much fear in my people," boomed Axis as the portal closed behind him, raising his organic hand and allowing it to glow with teal-blue light. "The one from Remnant that has slaughtered so many fine Zudjari warriors, and derailed my plans for a flawless invasion, in the flesh herself. I will admit...I'm going to enjoy making an example out of you, Huntress."
Silver eyes caught a hint of moment, and Summer grabbed Weaver and dove to the ground, narrowly avoiding the Sectopod wreck that sailed overhead and slammed against a wall. Axis raised his hand again, triggering his telekinesis once more as energy poured into his palm. This time, it was the weapons along the walls that rattled and clattered as they were pulled out of their mounts, drawn towards the Shipmaster like moths flying to meet a flame. Curved serrated sabers, barbed spears with razor-sharp teeth, and triangular shields with sharpened edges floated and drifted in circular arrays, all of the deadly points aimed squarely at where the two women were rising to their feet.
"You should have stayed on your own world, Huntress," growled Axis as blood-red eyes glared at Summer, before shifting focus to Weaver. "And you...your kind should never have resisted in the first place."
The Shipmaster thrust his organic hand forward, and a shower of steel descended upon the Agents.
Summer's eyes widened as adrenaline coursed through her veins, giving her the energy to break into a sprint as the weapons came raining down. Weaver, meanwhile, flung down a shield sphere and crouched low, hoping the projectiles were flying with enough force to be deflected by the bubble-like barrier. Swords, spears, and shields bounced off the surface of the sphere and plunged into the ground, the storm trailing after the Huntress as she ran circles around the room at full tilt. She raised the edge of her cloak over her face in some effort to shield herself and avoid getting snagged, but the sharpened edges of the flying metal grazed her skin and drew blood even through her kinetic barrier.
Once the storm of blades ended, Summer went on the offensive as she dashed towards Axis, Wandering Thorn coming alive in arcs of silver-white light as she slashed repeatedly. The Shipmaster merely regarded the blade with curiosity at first, blocking the strikes with the back of his crystalline hand like it was a dulled butter knife. After entertaining the Huntress for a few moments, he chuckled and swung around with surprising speed for his size, smacking Summer in the face with the full weight of a fist made of quartz and sending her flying.
Every nerve ending on her brow and forehead screamed in agony as blood gushed from the new cut, but Summer managed to twist herself so that she landed on her feet with a backwards slide across the floor. She looked back up just in time to see Axis charging forward with the crystal fist raised above his head, ready to slam it down on her. Gritting her teeth, she rolled out of the way just before the hand drove itself into the floor, flowing into a spinning slash that left a steaming gash in the Shipmaster's flank. With a low growl of annoyance rather than pain, Axis swung back and swiped at the Huntress multiple times with his massive arm, which she dodged, sidestepped, and leapt over with natural grace and agility. Summer turned and struck with her sword at the base of the shoulder, only to feel her arms rattle as the heated blade bounced off the crystalline joint.
Oh come on, that's just cheating! Summer grimaced. Heat-resistant crystal...it's like the universe is going out of its way to make things hard for me right now.
Bullets fired from behind buried themselves into Axis's back, but the ripple of a kinetic barrier made Weaver scowl in irritation. With another laugh and lightning speed the Shipmaster grabbed the hem of Summer's cloak and whipped her overhead, slamming her into the ground before throwing her at the Recon agent. Faced with the prospect of painfully catching the flying Huntress or letting her splatter against the wall, Weaver chose the former, bracing herself as best she could as the two women collided and went rolling across the floor, with a dazed Summer ending up on top.
"Ow," groaned the Huntress, wincing as she grabbed her sides. "Shit, that hurts…"
"Not as much as it would've if you hit the wall," hissed the Senior Agent through grit teeth. "You're welcome, by the way."
Summer blinked as she rolled off of Weaver, trying to pull herself to her feet. "Right...thanks. Didn't expect you to break my fall."
"Yeah, well...you kept me from being a splatter stain once," growled Weaver as she staggered back up. "Figured I'd return the favor."
"How charitable," groused Summer. She looked back at Axis, who was content to simply hang back and stare at them menacingly as he awaited their next move.
"Do you see now, the futility of your struggle?" he said with an amused chuckle. "Lay down your weapons and submit, and perhaps I will show you mercy."
"This guy's just been playing with us so far," panted Summer as she studied their opponent. "He's got that same set of powers that the Shield Commanders get, so he gets to throw stuff around all he wants while regular bullets won't do much besides piss him off. He's as strong as a Muton, as fast as a Phantom, and just as smart as an Infiltrator. Even my sword barely does anything against that arm of his - we need a new plan to take him down."
Weaver cast a side glance at the various assorted weapons that lay around them, either flat on the floor or embedded deep within the steel.
"Well...he did just throw a bunch of swords and shit at us. Be a shame to waste it."
Summer grinned as she picked up a triangular shield to bear alongside Wandering Thorn, the bladed defensive metal plate slipping over her left forearm like a gauntlet. "Now that's an idea I can get behind. You know how to use any of those?"
"I taught myself the basics when I played Achilles for a high school theater production of The Iliad." Weaver picked up one of the barbed spears and thrust it experimentally, while also grabbing a shield of her own. "Figured it'd help me get into character, and keep the asshole playing Hector from getting too 'handsy' with me during the big fight."
"...that is either really adorable or really terrifying and honestly I'm not sure which."
"Figure it out later. We've got a Shipmaster to string up first."
Axis chuckled darkly as he walked towards the Agents, using telekinesis to pick up and assemble several of the swords into one longer blade. "So you wish to challenge me in the ancient Zudjari blood sport, then? Very well, but be prepared to bleed. I have yet to yield to a single opponent in my thousand stellar cycles of living as a duelist."
"First time for everything," countered Summer as she twirled her own sword. She looked at Weaver with a nod. "Ready?"
"After you."
Summer led the charge with a raised shield and a mighty yell, deflecting the downward slash from Axis and countering with a spinning cut to the leg. Weaver rushed in afterwards with a powerful thrust that the Shipmaster mostly avoided, save for the solid inch or so of armor plating that was shorn off by the grazing stab. The two women darted back and forth and alternated attacks, striking from opposite sides to keep the attention of the high-ranking Outsider divided as he juggled two different opponents.
To the Huntress's surprise and relief, Weaver wasn't bluffing about her knowledge and skill with the spear, mixing precise and focused lunges with quick and dirty shield bashes to joints. This form and accuracy, combined with strong kicks to weak points and quick reflexes to avoid retaliatory slashes, gave the senior agent a distinct fighting style all her own, one that wouldn't look too out of place in the halls of Beacon Academy. It was this unconventional, practical combat form that allowed her to draw first blood, plunging the barbed tip of her spear through weakened leg armor and soft flesh. Without even pausing to admire her blow, Weaver immediately twisted the shaft and yanked hard, pulling the spearhead out of the alien calf muscle and bringing ink-black blood and torn ligaments with the weapon.
Axis screamed in pain as he stumbled away, all amusement vanishing from his eyes as he turned back to deliver another horizontal slash with the sword. Summer and Weaver both ducked to avoid the swing, but the latter couldn't react fast enough to the hundred-pound crystalline bludgeon that followed the blade. The Senior agent went flying into the wall with a pained yelp, her weapons clattering from her hands as she slid to the floor in a pained hiss.
"Weaver!"
"I'm fine!" growled the officer, who was very much not fine. "Just...gimme a sec, and I'll get right back up and help…ow, fuck..."
Summer wanted to protest, but now that she had Axis's full attention, it was all she could do to focus on her duel with the ten-foot-tall Outsider, along with his massive blade, hardened fist, and dangerous rage. The combined sword didn't burn like Wandering Thorn did, but it still resisted its heat as it blocked her slashes and swings. Every impact from the fist crashing into the shield made her feel like her legs might collapse, and every cut she made in the ablative armor felt too shallow and meaningless.
As the duel continued, she shifted focus from blocking to avoiding, from slashing at the armor to focusing on the Outsider's sword. She deflected the blade whenever she got a chance, making sure her counterstrikes were repeatedly hitting the same spot. When the base of Axis's sword began to glow dull orange, she knew the plan was working; the next time the Shipmaster swung downward, Summer sidestepped and slammed sword and shield against the thermally-warped point of the blade, breaking the weapon at the hilt with one precise, stress-inducing strike.
Weaponless but not defenseless, Axis growled as he swung his crystal fist wildly and erratically, knocking Wandering Thorn out of Summer's hand and leaving her with only her shield. The heated sword flipped and spun in mid-air, landing point-first into the ground next to the floating crystal. With no way to retrieve it without opening herself up to more attacks, Summer could only evade the crystalline claw's relentless assault and raise her bulwark to stop its final downward slam. The Huntress strained and pushed with all her might to avoid being crushed by the force of the amber appendage, but the Shipmaster responded only by pushing harder, increasing the pressure beyond what she could fight.
"So the 'silver-eyed demon' my troops fear so much is nothing more than a scared little girl, fighting for a doomed world that is not her own," growled Axis as he continued to exert force onto the Huntress, "How...utterly...disappointing."
Summer grit her teeth as she pushed back as hard as she could, though she could feel her knees beginning to buckle and her arms begin to tremble.
That's when she felt something slide across the floor and hit her boot. She looked down to find a shield laying face-down on the ground…with a live flashbang resting on the inner rim.
She grinned.
Thanks, Weaver.
Summer braced herself as best she could for the fireworks before she lifted her foot and stomped the edge of the shield, flipping it like it was a seesaw and sending the stun grenade flying upwards directly into the smug Shipmaster's face.
BANG.
Axis's world suddenly exploded into blinding light and deafening noise, the organic hand clutching his burning eyes as the pressure released in the crystal arm. Summer was quick to capitalize on the sudden vulnerability, scooping up the shield in her free hand and using both of them as bludgeons to pummel the amber appendage. The sharpened point of each twin shield drove into the quartz like a wedge, creating and propagating cracks in the material with each consecutive blow. Surprisingly enough, the Shipmaster hollered in pain as though she were striking flesh...which only stoked the Huntress's inner flame as she continued bashing away at the arm, sidestepping his clumsy counters and chipping more and more of the crystal away.
The Outsider officer roared in fury and loosed a telekinetic blast where he was certain Summer was standing, but she slid between his legs and sprang back to her feet behind him. Spinning and kicking at the still-bleeding wound in the back of the leg, she caught a glimpse of Weaver running at her with a bloodied spear in hand. With a wordless nod the Huntress crouched low and locked her shields together, forming a platform in preparation for her rushing ally. Weaver jumped and vaulted off the shields just as Axis turned to face the women, the boost from Summer giving her leap enough height to deliver a brutal stab right to the Shipmaster's eye.
"GRAHH!"
Weaver's dark grin was all over her face as she touched down in front of Summer, spear still dripping with vital fluid. The Shipmaster staggered backwards with his organic hand clutching his now-empty eye socket, eventually steadying himself as he lowered his palm and glared at the pair of agents. Despite the copious amounts of blood and viscera dribbling down his faceplate, Axis's fury shone in his remaining eye as clear as the crystal in his arm.
"That. Is. ENOUGH!"
Weaver was about to dash back in when she was suddenly lifted off the ground by invisible hands, which then flung her into the far wall with enough force to leave a dent in the steel. Before Summer could even cry out in alarm, she found herself the target of the next telekinetic assault, as the Shipmaster pulled her into the air. Instinctively, she fished a knife out of her boot and flung it at Axis, only for him to catch and crush the offending blade with his crystal claw. Unamused, he used the amber appendage to punch the floating Huntress, sending her flying back as her shields were telekinetically torn out of her grasp.
Summer grunted when she hit the wall, yelled in pain as the triangular bucklers slammed against her wrists, then gasped as she felt the spear pierce her gut.
She stared down at the shaft of the weapon in horror, as deep crimson began to pool from the wound.
No...
Axis lowered his hand as the light faded, and she felt the weightlessness fade just before the weapons pinning her to the wall dug even deeper, keeping her there like an unlucky frog pinned down for dissection. She whimpered and yelped as she tried to wriggle free, tried to dislodge herself, but each subtle movement just made the blades dig deeper, drawing more dark red fluid and sending more pain shooting across her skin. Each breath felt like an impossible labor, each gasp of air drew pins and needles that stabbed her from the inside. Shock flooded her veins to replace the blood that dripped from her wounds, and she felt the darkness at the edge of her vision return with a vengeance.
She was stuck.
"Such insolence...such arrogance!" growled the Shipmasteras he stepped toward the trapped Huntress, "Did you really believe you could simply march into the heart of a Zudjari Forge, trespass upon the sacred ground of Mosaic's Throne, and take whatever you believed would help your futile cause?! What were you hoping to accomplish by coming here? And why did you return?!"
Summer would have gladly given an impassioned speech in defiance, but her throat was too full of blood and bile at the moment.
"You delude yourselves into believing you can win, but you cannot!" roared Axis as he raised his claw, "There is no stopping Mosaic! There is no stopping the Zudjari! There is no outcome in which you are victorious! You will submit...or you will die!"
Silver eyes began to close as she waited for the claw that would cave her head in and finally end this nightmare...
BAM. BAM.
The sound of a revolver barking twice filled the air, sending two separate ripples across the back of Axis's barrier and interrupting him before he could deal the final blow. He turned away from Summer, who tracked the sound herself with half-focused eyes to see Weaver standing next to the floating crystal in the center of the room. The woman stood with a clear limp and blood staining through to her outermost jacket, but she still pointed her gun at the Shipmaster with one hand, holding Wandering Thorn in the other.
"I don't know about her...but I'm sure as hell not gonna lie down and take it."
Axis chuckled as he stared down the enraged Weaver. "And you expect to fight me with that? You don't even know how to use it."
"Maybe not, but I'm a fast learner," she answered. "Besides, I don't need to be a master duelist to do this."
Weaver turned and slashed at the crystal with Wandering Thorn fully ignited, leaving a steaming slash across the glassy blue surface. The result was instantaneous, as Axis clutched his head and let out a feral scream. She was about to make another attack against the floating structure before a telekinetic blast knocked her away, though she dug the blade into the ground to slow herself down.
"You would dare to strike the Relay?!" Fury boomed in the Shipmaster's roar.
Weaver rose slowly, but the fact that she rose at all infuriated the Shipmaster. "If it gets your attention, yes. We have a score to settle, you and me. So why not settle that first before you deal with your 'silver-eyed devil' later? I don't think she's going anywhere...and I was here first."
Wait. What was she…?
No.
No no no no no.
Axis's eyes, one bloodied and another bloodshot, narrowed as he glared at the officer. "Do you truly yearn for death so badly, human? Because that's all that awaits you if you continue to resist."
"You! Took! My! Sister!" cried Weaver, each word punctuated by another shot from her revolver. When the gun clicked empty, she tossed it aside and held Wandering Thorn with both hands. "I don't care what you do to me - I won't stop fighting you until I'm dead."
If the Shipmaster had a mouth capable of smiling, he no doubt would have done so as he raised his claw and clenched it tightly.
"Then I shall grant you the honor of a warrior's death, human."
"No…" whispered Summer weakly, feeling her consciousness fade. "W-Weaver...don't…"
Don't make the same mistake I did.
Of course, Weaver couldn't hear the strained protest, as she and the Shipmaster ran at each other at full tilt. She dashed and darted out of the way and swung the glowing saber with unpracticed yet effective swings, slashing at the legs and ducking under wide swipes. Her agility and hardiness saved her from the more dangerous strikes, but the edges of the crystalline claw still caught her face and back, tearing at the flesh and drawing blood. Despite the number of gashes and cuts piling up, Weaver refused to relent, drawing on every trick she'd learned as an Agent against the Outsider who had taken everything from her.
It was the best display of combat from Weaver that Summer had ever seen.
But she knew it still wouldn't be enough to save her.
A bloodied cough ejected some of the vital fluid filling her lungs, bringing with it a fresh wave of pain as the spasm dug her flesh deeper into the weapons. Her eyes began to turn from a vibrant silver to a dull gray, and her beloved cape turned from white to red at an alarming rate.
She knew she was dying again.
And this time, there was no way out.
Unless…
The thought hovered at the edge of her vision, like a cloud on a sunny day. She had managed to activate her Aura earlier, when she and Weaver were falling out of the sky. It hadn't lasted long, and the process had left her exhausted...but it had happened.
Could she make it happen again?
It was the only way she could save herself. The barbed spear and sharpened shields stabbing into her body were a blessing in disguise, as without the big metal slabs she would have bled out even faster. Removing them would free her, but it would also ensure she died in seconds, instead of minutes...unless she had a way to heal herself quickly, and a way to move them, too.
Which she did. Aura carried an innate healing power that could mend up most wounds, and Scatter worked on anything she came into contact with. Including weapons.
Especially weapons.
She just needed the damn thing for a minute. That's all the time it would take. All the time she'd need to stop Axis. All the time she'd need to save Angela - and begin the first step of saving her sister.
The senior agent fighting for her life dropped to one knee to avoid a sweeping punch, only to get kicked in the face instead. This knocked her off-balance long enough for Axis to rear up with his crystal arm and grab her by the head, picking Weaver up and slamming her into the wall. Her voice might have been muffled by the claw and by Summer's rapidly failing senses, but she could still hear the scream of pain that Weaver let out as she felt her skull fight against caving in.
Come on, Aura… she pleaded, as if her soul-formed armor was a living entity. I need you. I know you're there, and I know it hurts to use you...but it's the only way we can survive. It's the only way we can save Weaver...Lena...everyone. I know that we're not falling...and we're not drowning...but the situation is just as dire. We can't let this be the end.
Another attempt to breathe resulted in a pitiful choking noise.
We have to keep moving forward.
Thankfully, her mind, body, and soul all seemed to be on the same page, and a milky-white field of energy began to envelop her once more. Sudden strength surged into her bones, her muscles, her heart, her lungs...and all at once, the pain no longer seemed so debilitating.
Summer smiled weakly.
I knew you'd understand.
Silver eyes snapped back into focus as winds began to swirl around her, scattering herself and the weapons pinning her to the wall into a cloud of white rose petals. She reappeared on the other side of the chamber, reforming herself just long enough to deliver a powerful dropkick to the side of Axis's head. The Shipmaster cried out in pain and dropped Weaver as he swung at the woman who hung in mid-air, only for his eye to widen as he caught nothing but roses.
"What?!"
It would be the only word that Axis would think as Summer Rose, empowered by the might of Remnant for a short window of time, unleashed a barrage of attacks in true Huntress form.
A storm of petals rushed around the Shipmaster and delivered strikes and slashes from every conceivable angle, spear and shields forming for the briefest of seconds alongside their wielder as they cut through armor and flesh alike. When Axis blasted the cloud away in a burst of telekinetic force, the untouchable Huntress merely reformed across the room, hurling a barbed spear that became solid as it flew. The Shipmaster growled and raised his crystal arm to block the oncoming projectile, but rather than continue its flight, it merely vanished into petals and reformed behind him, surging forward and burying deep into the organic shoulder instead. Axis howled in rage and pain as he staggered forward, only to be smacked in the face by dual shields in a rising uppercut followed by a downward slam from behind. Summer didn't worry about how much energy she was burning with each burst of her Semblance this time - the short distance and low carry weight meant that each individual teleport cost minimal Aura, affording her a long-awaited chance to really cut loose with her full power.
And cut loose she did, swarming around Axis to unleash dozens of rapid-fire fisticuffs across the armor and prosthetic, using both her Aura and the shields to make each individual attack land with ten times her usual force. When the plating began to crumble and the crystal began to fracture, she targeted these new weak points to further break them, grinning in satisfaction as chunks of metal tore off and fell to the ground. The arm proved harder to break, but each hit made the cracks widen and creep closer to the shoulder where it mounted to the flesh. She kept up the relentless assault on the amber appendage, making it weaker and more brittle with each hit.
Axis stumbled backwards, leaning against the window-like barrier with a weakened crystal arm as shards of glasslike material fell to the floor. Fatigue began to flood into Summer's veins again as she felt the power start fading, but she fought it for as long as she could. Her work was almost done. She just needed to land one more potent strike right to the shoulder, and the whole arm would come crashing down.
"Rose! Catch!"
Summer's grin widened as Weaver called out, and her silver eyes looked up to see Wandering Thorn sailing high overhead, spinning end over end and creating silver-white arcs in its wake.
Perfect.
Before her Aura could slip away completely, the Huntress engaged her Semblance one more time, scattering herself into petals and reappearing at the perfect point to catch her sword in mid-air. Signature weapon in hand once again, she let out a mighty yell as she fell and spun and channeled her energy into the blade, giving it all the cutting power it needed to shatter the arm in one Aura-infused slash.
"AUUUUUUGHHHHHHH!"
The result was instantaneous. If merely cracking the amber appendage was enough to make Axis cry out in pain, then severing it completely was enough to make him scream. Energy between the shattered quartz fragments hummed and crackled and filled the air with the smell of burning ozone, before a massive unstable explosion rocked the whole room.
KRA-KOOOM!
The kinetic barrier that acted as a window to the outside world flickered and disappeared as the emitters overloaded in showers of sparks. The Shipmaster was thrown to the ground and sent tumbling over and over until he lay face down in a pile of agony and blood. And Summer was launched backwards in an arc that ended with her landing in a smoky, exhausted heap of scratched limbs and scorched cloth.
Her Aura shielded her one last time from the force of impact before it too shattered and vanished in a shower of white particles, floating away like dandelion seeds in the wind. After a moment of stillness Silas emerged from Summer's power pack, looking very dizzy and confused before noticing the exhausted woman underneath. Trilling in concern, the Silacoid began nudging her softly until she stirred, chirping happily as the Huntress groaned tiredly but triumphantly.
"Mmmm...five more minutes…" she protested weakly, but nevertheless she started rising to her feet seconds later. To her surprise, she felt a hand slip under her shoulders and lift her up. She looked to her left and saw Weaver next to her with an awed expression, before the officer clamped it down into a stoic nod.
"Good work," she said, trying but failing to keep the amazement and disbelief entirely out of her voice. Then Weaver looked over at Axis, who groaned in his state of stupor.
"I know you're tired," she said encouragingly (for Weaver, at least), "but you can sleep after we get his chip. Come on. There's no telling how long that knocked him out for, so we'll need to move fast. You have the extractor?"
Summer nodded numbly, reaching into her skirt pocket to pull out the gray tube in trembling, unsteady hands. Weaver noticed how shaky her grip was, and snatched it instantly.
"I'll grab the implant and pin him from behind," she said as she walked the tired Huntress over to the unconscious Shipmaster. "You use that spear you stuck him with to lock down his arm, keep him from using any of that telekinetic bullshit during the procedure. You don't have to push too hard, just sort of lean on him. Can you do that?"
She gave another nod, though this one was more confident.
"Good. Have your pet bind his legs together and keep him glued down. That bastard's gonna squirm around even if he isn't awake. We gotta make sure he doesn't try anything."
Silas chirped and slithered off towards the prone Shipmaster's heels while Summer and Weaver mounted him from behind. The silver-eyed Huntress yanked the spear out of the only remaining shoulder and jammed it into the forearm, while the steel-eyed officer straddled across the back and used one hand to trace along the seams in the alien scalp. When she found the scar that she was looking for, Weaver pressed the extractor against the base of the skull and clicked the button on the top, bracing herself for Axis's fit of spasms and reflexive twitching that came with the sensation of a steel claw burrowing through skin, muscle, and wire.
"Alright…" breathed Weaver as she pushed down with her other hand, "Now we just let this thing run its course, then we make this asshole talk once Mosaic's out of his brain. Right?"
"That sounds like a plan," panted Summer, nearly bucking as the hand flinched underneath her. "Although I think I'll just let you ask the questions. I feel...so exhausted right now. Like, I feel like I could sleep for an entire week and still barely feel refreshed."
"Can't say I blame you." Weaver checked the position of the extractor, shifting her grip slightly. "Especially with that hat trick of yours. Never thought that I'd ever see a human zip around like that...except for that one episode of Captain Thunderclap where Nova Nancy got exposed to quantum beams. Let me guess - that's how you got us out of his trap?"
Summer nodded tiredly. "Yeah...that was my Aura. It's...pretty amazing, but for some reason Earth doesn't like it very much. I have to basically be swimming in adrenaline for it to flare up, even for just a little while. Which, so far, has meant being in mortal peril. Like being impaled to a wall, or falling out of the sky. Or being asked to do a shift in the Editing Room."
Weaver chuckled humorlessly. "Well, that seems easy enough to fix. Just slip a knife between your ribs and you should be able to pull that kind of superhero stuff off anytime you want."
A breathy chuckle escaped Summer's lips. "Believe me...if it was that easy to activate, I'd be in full Huntress mode all the time. But for the most part, these aliens just aren't as scary as the monsters back home. My body's too used to fighting giant murder birds and huge armored death scorpions, so it takes a lot to convince it I'm in serious danger. And if I get too hurt, I either go into shock or pass out completely...assuming I live. And I'm not about to ask Dresner to do anymore 'trials' on me to find out where the line is."
Weaver pursed her lips as she watched the extractor do its work. "Hmm. Maybe I can help you with that."
"What, you want to torture me?" Summer asked with a grin.
"Tempting, but no." Weaver gave another chuckle, this one a little more sincere. "Faulke had me do a lot of mental training to 'master my body's functions to become a better soldier,' or something like that. And part of that involved being able to trigger an adrenaline rush at will, to block out the pain and fatigue and keep fighting even when the chips are down. If you wanted, I could give you a few pointers and tricks that I've picked up. I can't guarantee it'll help you do that sort of thing on command...but it'll probably be more pleasant than whatever the Kraut had you doing. Less painful, too."
Summer looked at Weaver with a surprised expression. "You...You'd do that?"
Weaver shrugged and nodded. "It's the least I can do for you pulling my ass outta the fire today. Several times, in fact. Not that it matters all that much what I promise you out here - once we get back to base, I feel like I'm gonna be in shit so deep, not even you'll be able to dig me out…"
The Huntress shifted her weight slightly to reach over and put a hand on Weaver's shoulder. "Like I said earlier, if we bring that implant back, it should earn you a lot of goodwill. Speaking of which, is that just about done?"
"Almost," reported Weaver. "Just a little more...there, we got it!"
The high-pitched whining of the extractor stopped suddenly, prompting Weaver to pull it away from Axis's skull and flip it over in her hands. Sure enough, the tiny little all-important implant was secured tightly with bloodied claws, its three long electrodes still dripping with spinal fluid and acid strong enough to dissolve Outsider flesh. Summer felt her stomach heave into her throat at the sight of the gaping hole in the back of the Shipmaster's head; Weaver barely paid it any mind as she nodded and slid the claw back into the main body of the canister, pulling off the cap on the back end and screwing it over the exposed implant to cover and secure it.
"Like surgery for dummies..." she said as she handed it to Summer. "Here, hold onto this while you sit back and take a breather. I got this. Go ahead and call your pet back, too. This asshole's not going anywhere. I'll make sure of it."
Ignoring the wave of nausea that sprang up from holding something literally pried out of an alien's head, Summer nodded numbly and scooted away from Axis, Silas slithering up her arm and cuddling her affectionately. The adorable display was darkly contrasted with the sight of Weaver pulling the spear out of the Shipmaster's arm, only to jam it into the back of his knee instead. Axis awoke in a pained, throaty scream, which only intensified once Weaver grabbed his remaining arm and locked it behind his back, pushing down with her full weight and strength as she drew a knife with one hand.
"Okay asshole, here's how it's gonna go down," she hissed as she slid the tip of the blade into the opening made by the extractor. "You've got a hole in your head the size of my thumb, right where your implant used to be before we yanked it out. That means that your precious 'Mosaic' isn't listening, and none of your buddies are gonna know we're talking no matter how much you scream. So I'm gonna ask some questions, and you're gonna answer them. Every. Single. One. And if you don't give me an answer I like, or try to resist in some other way, that hole in your head's gonna get a little bigger. Or a lot, depending on how badly you piss me off. You tell me what I wanna know, and I'll give you the mercy of a quick, painless death. That sound like a plan?"
Unlike the Infiltrator, who was confused and pliable after his implant was removed, Axis did not seem intimidated in the slightest.
"You are wasting your time, human," he drawled dramatically, his voice no longer booming with power. "You may as well kill me now, for I have served Mosaic faithfully while your ki - AUGH!"
Summer suppressed a wince as Weaver left a shallow cut along the already-raw circle of flesh, new blood trickling out of the fresh wound.
"I am not in the mood for your condescending bullshit right now. You can talk, or you can scream. It's up to you, but I'll be here for both."
The Shipmaster spat out a mouthful of blood through a broken faceplate. "You think I would willingly divulge the secrets of Mosai - GAHHHH!"
"I don't give a flying fuck about Mosaic! Where are the abductees?!"
Axis paused. "The...abductees?"
"The abductees," repeated Weaver forcefully. "The people that went missing for years before you started openly invading Earth. The humans you took from the countryside, from villages, from farms and outposts. The 'test subjects' you used to fine-tune that Sleepwalker virus so it works on us. The lives you stole away that you thought we wouldn't miss, the friends you kidnapped, the families you tore apart...Where. Are they?"
Silence hung in the air for a moment, as Axis hummed quietly and thoughtfully while the women waited with bated breath.
Then the Shipmaster gave a response that unnerved even Weaver.
He began to laugh.
"That's not an answer, you son of a bitch!" hissed the officer, tears forming in her eyes. "Tell me, dammit! What did you do with them?"
"Ahahahahaha...forgive my outburst," said Axis unapologetically, "I was merely...surprised at how well-informed you were. Perhaps I was wrong to underestimate humanity...but I was most certainly wrong to not recognize you right away, little one. Forgive me...but you were so much smaller, then, so I did not realize it at first..."
Weaver's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"
"I do not always travel in my ship," explained the Outsider. "Sometimes, in the early days of an invasion, I will bridge with the scouting vessels to survey the world I will soon claim as my own. On the day I first saw you, we were indeed seeking out specimens for testing and tailoring the virus to affect your race...and as much potential as I saw in you as you screamed at the sky, as much as I wanted to bring you aboard alongside your kin, my crew said that your blood-mate was the last sample they needed for that day. 'Any more and we may have to cull some of them,' they said to me. 'But surely we can fit that one as well?' I said. 'After all, this new one is so tiny and weak and frail…'"
Summer felt her heart shatter as she saw Weaver's hand tremble, the stony facade crumbling to reveal the emotional core deep within.
"You...you were there. You were on the ship when Lena was taken."
"Correct."
The officer's fingers tightened around the knife as more water fed into the tears. "She was my sister, my friend, my whole world, the only one I ever loved...and you were there! You took her away from me yourself!"
"Indeed. And it's such a pity we did not take you as well. Oh, if only you could have seen her struggle," drawled the Outsider, "If only you could have heard her cry and scream and wail and call for you. You would have been so proud of her stamina and her tenacity, of her unwavering faith in her guardian angel to make things right. 'Angelina!' she would yell at the top of her tiny little lungs. 'Angelina, please come and save me! I'm cold, I'm hungry, I'm scared, I'm weak! I need you! I love - "
"SHUT UP!" Weaver shrieked, hot angry tears running down her face. "Don't talk about her like that!"
"But I thought you wanted answers!" Axis cackled. "She was spirited, I must admit. The other specimens gave up hope of rescue long before she did. But eventually even she came to realize that help would not come...that she was doomed to suffer as the others did. We got some of her best results after she yielded...and she was our first successful conversion."
Despite lacking the facial features to do so, Axis grinned darkly as he looked over his shoulder back at the seething, crying Weaver.
"Yet even now, in the darkness, where no one will ever find her...she still calls your name. How does it feel, little one? To know that your sister is crying for you, even as a mindless husk? You will not find her. And by some miracle that you do, you will not save her."
Summer bit her lip as she saw Weaver's hand tremble more, tightening her grip on the knife as the tears intensified. The Huntress cleared her throat and spoke up for the first time, drawing Axis's attention.
"Then we cure her, and every other Sleepwalker you've created. And your people are going to give us that cure, when we win this war."
The second round of laughter that rippled out of the Outsider officer chilled Summer to the bone.
"Foolish, innocent little Huntress. There is no cure for the virus. Why would we need one? After all, one does not willingly unshackle the slaves that are so rightfully - "
That statement was enough to send Weaver firmly over the edge.
Before Summer could react, every bit of calmness and composure evaporated from the Senior agent as she let out a vengeful yell, raising her knife and stabbing Axis in the brain with both hands. The Shipmaster barely had time to let out a death rattle before his life left his eyes, but Weaver was not done. She pulled out the knife and plunged the tip into his skull over and over and over again, her violent screams wracked with heaving sobs and hacking coughs. Tears flowed down her cheeks with the heat of lava rolling down a mountain, dripping from her cheeks and mixing with the blood and viscera of the dead Outsider's open head. When the body was so torn up that there was nothing left to cut, she slammed her fists against the ground instead, letting out all her rage with one more loud cry that finished in a choked whimper.
Silver eyes just stared at Weaver as she unraveled at the seams, but they did not hold judgement, or pity, or disgust, or contempt.
Instead, they held understanding.
After Weaver's supply of anger had finally exhausted, she drew herself back, took a deep breath as she realized what she'd done, and buried her face into bloodstained hands as she wept bitterly.
"God...dammit…" she choked out in between sobs, "This is why...Faulke says I have to...bury my feelings…"
Summer felt her own eyes water as she dragged herself over, putting a hand on Weaver's shuddering shoulder once again.
"Faulke's not here right now," she whispered softly. "But I am. Come here."
And with that, she pulled Weaver into a tight embrace, wrapping her bare arms around the trembling agent and using her cloak like a trauma blanket. Rather than fight back or pull away, the weeping woman buried her face into the Huntress's shoulder, letting herself be held as she openly cried for the second time in what felt like decades, though this time anger and regret burned within the tears.
Unlike the earlier hug, Summer could feel Weaver's arms eventually wrap tightly around her waist, squeezing just as forcefully. The silver-eyed Huntress closed her eyes and rested her chin on top of her fellow agent's head, rocking slightly as she felt Silas slither around to provide another level of comfort to poor Weaver.
"I miss her...so much…" whimpered Weaver.
Summer took a breath and rubbed the back of Angela's neck with her thumb.
"We'll find her on our own," she promised softly. "We'll search every star, every planet for her. And I'll be there for every moment of it."
After a few more moments of silence, after Weaver finally stopped shaking, Summer withdrew and clasped the officer's cheeks between her palms. The Huntress smiled, touched their foreheads together affectionately, then lifted Weaver to her feet as they began the long journey back to the Skyranger.
With the key to the stars in their possession, the return trip didn't feel quite so long.
Found the girls. They're safe now. Meet you at the house.
Taiyang must have read that message on his scroll at least a thousand times over while he paced the length of the living room, eyes transfixed on the holographic screen as a million panicked thoughts raced through his mind. Safe now? What did that mean? Did that mean they were in danger at some point? If so, what kind of danger? Were they hurt? How badly? Would he have to call a doctor? What doctor would be -
The front door finally opened, dispelling all the immediate thoughts and making blue eyes dart wildly to face the figure stepping out of the coolness of night and into the warmth of home.
"You found them?" was the first thing that spilled out of his mouth. It was a dumb thing to say out loud, of course, considering that the scruffy Huntsman in the doorway had a young blonde girl draped over his shoulder and pulled on a little red wagon carrying a sleeping dark-haired toddler.
"No, I found two kids that looked identical to my nieces and paid their parents to let me borrow them," said Qrow as he rolled his crimson eyes. "Yes, I found the kids, Tai. Sorry for taking so long to get here, the wheel on the wagon fell off about halfway back. Couldn't exactly message you while my hands were fumbling to fix it and my eyes were scanning the treeline for more Beowolves that hadn't taken the hint..."
"Beowolves?" Taiyang repeated. "Wait. There were Grimm?! Oh gods, where were they? Where did you find them?"
"Out by the edge of old Prosperity," answered Qrow as he stepped inside, "just outside an abandoned cottage a few miles away from the path. Good thing I found them when I did, cause that damned house was full of the things…"
Taiyang's heart went several beats without pumping blood. "...are they hurt? Are they…?"
"Nope." Qrow shrugged the shoulder that Yang rested on, prompting her to sleepily roll her head and nestle herself back into the nape of his neck. "Little firecracker here collapsed from exhaustion right as I was done mopping up the mutts. She must've been walking non-stop since the afternoon, given how far she got. And Ruby...heh, she slept through the whole thing, right in that little red wagon of hers. She's definitely Summer's kid, if not even the sound of gunfire can wake her up…"
The blond brawler's knees felt weak as he staggered over to the wagon and gently scooped up the sleepy little rosebud, who was snoring softly and peacefully. The two-year-old girl had wrapped herself up in a big red blanket like she was a swaddled baby, and even the act of picking her up didn't do much except make her mumble a little. He cradled and hugged her close to his chest, letting tears of pure relief slip out of his eyes and drip down through his untamed beard. As if she could sense the new source of heat, Ruby turned to lean into her father, tiny hands clutching the front of his jacket tightly.
"A-anything else?" he choked out, feeling his lips tremble.
"Yeah. Yang had this clutched in her hands. Must've pried it outta the frame, given the cuts on her hands. Here. You want it back?"
Qrow pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket, unfolding it to unveil a photograph of Team STRQ in their glory days. Taiyang turned away, averting his eyes from the echo of Summer's past in favor of staring at the legacy he held in his arms like she was the greatest treasure in Remnant.
"Actually…" he said quietly, "...why don't you hold onto it for now? I think it'd be healthier and...easier for me, if I knew it was safe with you."
The scruffy Huntsman raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and pocketed the photo. "You sure? Cause just so you know, you're never getting this back. You know how crows are with shiny things."
A chuckle, followed by a grin. "Those are magpies, idiot."
"Oh right, I forgot I'm talking to an expert. Clearly you know more about birds than the guy who can turn into one."
The smile widened as he and Qrow slipped into familiar banter. "Aw, did I ruffle some feathers there buddy?"
Qrow groaned. "Ugh...a Xiao Long pun...and here I thought I was in the clear."
Taiyang laughed softly as he walked to the nearest couch, sitting down gently and setting Ruby down on his lap. After a few moments, Qrow came over and sat next to him with Yang still in his arms, chuckling quietly as the young blonde on his shoulder nuzzled in closer. Then, in unison, the two men let out long, deep sighs of relief.
Gods… Taiyang thought to himself, I almost lost you two. I did lose you. I hurt your feelings, dropped an ugly truth right in your faces, and then went to a bar to get wasted instead of sticking around to help you when you needed me. What kind of dad does that? If Summer was here…
He forced that line of thinking down. If Summer was here, none of this would have happened in the first place. But it wasn't her fault for what had happened today.
It was entirely his.
And if Qrow hadn't been there…
The arm that cradled Ruby tightened its grip ever so slightly, squishing her adorable little chubby cheeks into his chest as he looked down with a fresh wave of tears.
"You know...it's okay to miss her."
He looked over at his teammate. "Huh?"
"We all loved Summer," said Qrow with a somber gaze. "She really did bring out our best selves, even when we thought we didn't have one. We could be neck-deep in Ursa crap and she'd still have that confident smile on her face, still have that hopeful light in her eyes...my Semblance even seemed manageable, somehow, whenever she was around…"
Tai's face softened. "Qrow…"
The scruffy Huntsman's chin trembled slightly, but he swallowed hard and suppressed his own urge to cry for the moment. "So I understand that you're hurting. Believe me, I get it. I might not show it the same way you are, but I'm hurting, too. So are the girls here, even if they don't completely understand why. And wherever Raven is...I'm sure she's hurting along with us. In her own Raven way."
He hadn't even considered that. He'd been so lost in the depths of his own grief that he'd blinded himself to how it might hurt others. Drank so much wine and ale to dull the pain that he didn't even think about what kind of trauma he was inflicting on his family. Hell, he'd basically told a four-year-old that she had no right to be sad because Summer wasn't her mom, when the warm and loving Rose was more of a mother to little Yang than the cold and flighty Branwen would ever be. How could he have done such a terrible thing? How could he have said that to a little girl in just as much pain as him?
"But no matter how much it might hurt to miss her, we can't let ourselves get stuck in her memory. We have to keep going, keep living, keep fighting the good fight. Not just for her sake, or even ours...but for theirs."
Qrow gently rolled Yang off his shoulder and foisted her onto Taiyang, who tensed up slightly.
"These kids, the little rosebud and the firecracker...they're her legacy, Tai. Her last gift to the world and living proof of her love for you. She wouldn't want us to keep mourning her and destroying ourselves in the process. She'd want us to keep moving forward, just like she always did. Summer Rose, she...she was always willing to give up her life, if it meant that these kiddos could grow up in a world without Grimm. She had that belief long before Oz approached her with a 'special mission.' Sure, maybe it didn't work out how she wanted...but she knew that before she went to take Salem down solo. And while I don't think she ever wanted to leave these kids or us behind...I think she knew that we'd be able to pick up the pieces if she never came back."
Tai tentatively put his arm around Yang, shifting her so that she sat a little more comfortably as Qrow kept speaking.
"So, if she was willing to give up everything for that dream, then the least we can do is make sure they have a good life in a world with those shadowy monsters...and raise them to believe that they can realize that dream for the kids they have someday. Maybe they can fix the world where we failed. Put back together what we broke. Make right what's been wrong for so long. But it starts with you being there for them."
Despite being sound asleep, the little blond girl moaned and hugged Tai around the neck, smiling warmly despite the tears rolling down her cheek.
"I can pop in and help now and again, but I'm just their uncle. You're their dad. They need you to be strong for them, Taiyang. Think you can do that?"
Cradling both his little girls close to his chest, Taiyang Xiao Long wept silent, fatherly tears as he nodded somberly.
Summer Rose might have been gone, but he was holding the seeds she had left behind.
And he swore that he would help them blossom into women she would be proud of.
The welcome back to the base was a lot warmer than Weaver expected.
Summer, of course, was greeted with hugs, handshakes, and happy smiles, all of which she was more than eager to return. Weaver, on the other hand, chose to hang back and fold her arms over her bloodied chest, staring at the ground and trying to blend into the shadows. While she got cursory nods from members of Strike One (notably Bradford and Van Doorn, who were very glad to see their team leader alive and well), most people either avoided her at best or glared daggers towards her at worst. Which, in fairness, was completely justified, as despite coming back with the Shipmaster's implant, the memory of her jeopardizing the mission and shooting at the agents in the courtyard was still fresh in people's minds.
But then, after talking excitedly with the silver-eyed Huntress, Penny came up and gave Weaver a big, warm hug. Any reports that implied that she enjoyed the sensation (or even blushed a little bit at the embrace) would go on to be shredded, incinerated, and buried in a landfill.
The happy reunion and return had to end eventually, and soon enough Weaver and Summer found themselves standing in Faulke's office, directly in front of his desk as he himself paced behind it. Several glasses were scattered about the desk with drops of stubborn whiskey clinging to the edges, a dozen smoldering cigarettes in the ashtray awaited their newest arrival once Faulke was done with it, and the dark circles under the Director's eyes indicated that sleep had been an unaffordable luxury. Despite the fact that he was holding the literal key to victory in his non-smoking hand, the Director of the Bureau was not in a pleasant mood.
"Seventeen counts of friendly fire," he said sharply, glasses shimmering with reflected light and leaving smoke trails as he turned, "Water damage on a Skyranger. Four local news stations coming into the area to investigate the 'sound of explosions in the dead of night' due to your joyride with a Sectopod. And six different contingency plans that revolved around capturing a Shipmaster alive, all flushed down the drain."
He finally sat down at his desk with a heavy sigh and looked up at Weaver, who didn't have the nerve to look her boss in the eye and decided that the ground was a much easier thing to look at.
"Agent Weaver, I trust you're mature enough to realize that above all else, you nearly cost us the entire war today."
Guilt stabbed into her heart like a sword, only more painful. "I am, sir. I was out of line, and I apologize."
"Apologies don't make things right, Weaver. Actions do."
"Yes sir."
She looked up enough to see Summer staring at her sympathetically, before turning her silver eyes onto Faulke.
"With all due respect, sir," she said as diplomatically as possible, "when Agent Weaver and I re-entered the Forge, we did so with the full intent of bringing Axis back alive. However, given his size, armaments, abilities, and...temperament, I don't believe we would have been able to keep him here safely, much less get intel from him."
Summer had a point, of course, and her concern was one that Weaver had been arguing from the start. Given how the Outsiders had been getting more and more dangerous with newer and stranger powers, imprisoning someone as important as a Shipmaster would have required something more advanced than just a rope and a chair. Furthermore, keeping such a high-ranking captive would have served only to embolden the Zudjari - if they really intended to hold Axis on base, then they might as well save the aliens the trouble and paint a giant target on their own backs.
Or just go ahead and detonate the elerium reactor at the heart of the base and make the entire Bureau of Strategic Operations and Command self-destruct in nuclear fire.
"That still wasn't our call to make, though," explained Weaver with a sigh. "Or, more specifically, it wasn't my call to make. I let my emotions get the best of me, acted on my own...and we nearly paid for it in blood."
Faulke nodded. "I know that Remnant doesn't follow the same military structure as we do, but the chain of command is something that must be upheld and followed if there is to be any order at all. I understand Weaver's concerns completely, but the fact that they ended up being validated does not matter in this case. She disobeyed direct orders, enacted a plan of her own without consulting or advising us, and displayed a willingness to wound or harm others that tried to oppose her. If every soldier acted like Weaver did today, the Bureau would not last a week in the face of this alien invasion."
He turned to Weaver to resume the glare. "I've trusted you thus far, Angela, and that trust has afforded you a great degree of freedom. But the moment you and Agent Rose disappeared through that portal, I didn't know what would happen. I didn't know where you went, and I had no way to know whether or not you would ever return. No one did, and that uncertainty spiraled into chaos and despair. For eight agonizing hours, Earth's first and last line of defense was confused, demoralized, and without guidance. Do you understand that?"
"I do, sir." Weaver tightened her stance. "I'll gladly accept any punishment you see fit."
Faulke narrowed his eyes. "In that case...full demotion. You will be stripped of your rank and agent status, and be assigned to security detail."
Weaver winced briefly, but considering her worst-case scenario was either "locked in the brig until the end of the war" and "taken out back with a shotgun and one more cigarette," this didn't seem too awful.
Summer, on the other hand, widened her eyes then furrowed her brow. "Sir...I disagree with that verdict. Ange...Weaver demonstrated considerable growth and forward planning during our infiltration, and it's no exaggeration to say that I couldn't have done this without her. Benching her completely feels like too harsh a punishment - she may have her flaws, but she's still one of the best agents in the Bureau, and if you couldn't afford to keep me under lock and key, I don't think you can afford to keep her in the reserves either."
Faulke leaned back in his chair, took a puff of his cigarette, and stared hard at Summer. Not maliciously, at least - Weaver could tell that much. She had a feeling that the director found it suspicious that Summer was sticking up for an agent she had been butting heads with for months now - and in the case of today's mission, literally coming to blows. But the Huntress did not falter, merely tightening her stance as the steel-eyed woman had done earlier.
Appreciate the sentiment, Rose, but you can't do your usual sweet-talk on him to get me out of this mess. I screwed up, I almost cost us the war, I deserve whatever I get.
"Furthermore, I don't think it's fair to pin the blame of what happened today entirely on her...considering that I was the one who dropped us into the portal."
...wait, what the fuck?
It took every bit of self-control Weaver had to not react in complete and total shock. Faulke merely regarded the silver-eyed huntress with a raised eyebrow.
"Is that so?"
"Yes sir," said Summer with complete sincerity. "I...thought that Axis was addressing me when he said he would give me what I wanted. I thought that, if there was a chance that the portal could lead back to Remnant, I should take it. In hindsight, it was a foolish risk...one that completely derailed the mission and almost cost us our chance to complete the objective."
There were no dilated pupils, no nervous tics, not even a bead of sweat on her brow. Weaver suddenly understood just how Summer was able to hide her status as an alien for so long, because even the officer couldn't see any tells or signs of lying in her face.
What are you doing, Rose? Why are you sticking your neck out for me? We're off the battlefield, you don't have to do this anymore. Just go back to hating me, and we can pretend that all this never happened.
While her mouth remained pulled into a tight sealed frown, silver eyes twinkled with an inner smile as they looked at Weaver.
...god dammit, you are one crazy bitch. You know that, right?
Whether or not Faulke was convinced, however, was another story. He regarded Weaver for a moment, as if he was waiting for her to give any indication of surprise, or offer contrary evidence to Summer's story, or maybe even call her a liar at the top of her lungs. When she sensibly held her tongue, he looked back at the Huntress and let out a long smoky sigh.
"Well then...I must say, I'm quite disappointed in you as well, Agent Rose. I expected better field judgements from you, based on previous experiences."
"I'll do better then, sir. We both will. Won't we, Weaver?"
The steel-eyed woman had no words, just a tight nod in Summer's direction.
"In that case, I will hold you both accountable for today's events," said the director as he pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper. "Agent Weaver will be demoted from Officer to First Rank, while Agent Rose will be demoted from First to Second Rank. Furthermore, the two of you will be selectively deployed on low-level assignments and dispatch operations only, for the next two weeks unless an emergency comes up. You will both report to Quartermaster Webb twice a day during your probation to assist him with weapons maintenance, and you will be responsible for dinner prep for the next two weeks as well. Who takes the Thursday meal and who takes Sundays is up to you, but make sure both shifts are covered."
He stopped writing and looked up to the two women. "Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," said Summer and Weaver in unison.
"Very good, then. If there's nothing else, you're both dismissed. Vigilo Confido."
Weaver snapped a salute, Summer followed suit, and the two of them left Faulke's office without another word. When they were halfway to the women's washroom for much-needed showers, Weaver finally spoke her mind.
"You shouldn't have done that," she sighed. "You risked whatever goodwill you built with him to cover up my mistake."
"Please," scoffed Summer, smiling as she shook her head. "I've already been in hot water for pretending I wasn't an alien, what's a little more gonna do? Besides, you've been through enough punishment for one day, and you've already learned your lesson. I wasn't about to let him make you feel even worse about yourself."
Steel-blue eyes stared at the ground. "How I feel about it doesn't matter."
"It should, though," countered Summer, stopping in front of Weaver and meeting her gaze. "It really should. Having emotions doesn't make you weak, remember?"
Weaver sighed. "I remember. It's just...not as easy for me, as it is for you."
Summer smiled that maddening smile of hers. "That's okay. I can give you some pointers while you give me tips on how to trigger adrenaline. And maybe, if you're feeling adventurous, we can paint our nails, or try out clothes, or even talk about cute boys."
The newly-demoted officer rolled her eyes as she pushed past Summer, though far less forcefully than she used to. "God, I am going to regret being your friend, aren't I?"
"Not if I can help it!" chirped Summer as she skipped after Weaver.
"Please just kill me, it'd be more merciful than listening to your shrill, cheery voice."
"Nnnnope! You're stuck with me forever now."
"I swear to God I'm gonna wash your cloak with something red."
"...you wouldn't dare."
"I would dare. After the next laundry day, you're gonna be running around in the girliest shade of pink you can think of. And I'll throw the Silacoid in the washer, too."
"You're a MONSTER!"
As the two women bantered all the way to the showers, Faulke listened to every word of it with a bemused smile from his desk.
Perhaps something precious had been found in the Forge after all.
Something that almost made the key to the Avenger Project pale in scope.
(A/N): Whew! And there it is, another story mission done, another milestone in the war achieved, another handful of character arcs wrapped up with pretty little bows. God...thirty thousand plus words in the space of two weeks...pushing the story up to 200k words (!) in total...I need a nap. Or a life. Either of the two, really.
Fortunately for us (and for my poor typing fingers), the next few chapters should be some less...intense material, as we wind down on Act Two and start to approach not only the last two story missions of the game, but some other hanging plot threads as we head into the climax. We'll have it all - action, drama, suspense, mystery, twists, turns, and...romance? (Yes, romance!)
Anyways, thanks for sticking with me for this super-extra-mega-deluxe installment of Summer Declassified, and I'll see you next time! Though, hopefully not with another big chungus of a chapter like this one...please, god, don't let the next update be another big chungus of a chapter like this one...
