A/N
Okay, definitely chapters every two weeks. I'll try to release them on Sundays and stick to this schedule as best I can. I did mention that I'm going to try to write longer chapters to compensate, but I had to cut this chapter down because it just felt way too bloated. That being said, next chapter will most likely be a battle chapter, so expect a higher word count.
I'll mention this only because I am not fully confident in my descriptive writing abilities. The "Gorgon" helmet described in this chapter is the female Militia "assault" helmet from Titanfall 1. Due to the lack of proper lore about armor in Titanfall, I tried to explain away it's odd appearance and shape as best as I could. If you need a visual aid, I'll provide a link.
en/png-esfvf
Anyways...
Chapter 62…
The world at the bottom of the staircase smelled like dust, cleaning chemicals, and gunpowder; an odd combination for sure, and one that certainly did not mingle well in Ashley's nose.
This strange, tucked away place was dark - far too dark for Ashley to properly see. Only a single blue light, cast from a rectangular optic sitting in an equally rectangular head, gave Ashley the barest glimpse of the room which sprawled out in front of her. She did not, however, have an accurate idea of how large this "armory" truly was, given the hulking silhouette of the simulacrum standing in front of her.
"Just a sec…" Elijah muttered. Despite the computerized undertone to his voice Ashley could hear the quiet exasperation with which the simulacrum spoke - a leftover from his time as an organic being like her. "The light switch is around here… somewhere…"
Elijah's robotic hand made a scratching noise as it rubbed against an unseen wall. There were more noises, tapping and knocking, as the simulacrum finally found the archaic light switch that he was looking for.
"Gotcha!"
With a quick flick came light and the gentle hum of electricity arcing through wiring. With a computerized huff, Elijah stepped to the side and held a hand out in gesture, sweeping it slowly to the side to show off the room.
"The armory…"
Ashley stepped forwards and scanned the room with her dark eyes.
The "armory" was as shabby and ill-equipped as Ashley had expected, keeping true to the ongoing theme of Barker's ragtag mercenary company. To be fair, the room was larger than Ashley had expected, but a basement did not qualify as an armory just off of name alone. Most egregious were the remnants of the building's original time of construction; loose, underused pipes sat exposed amongst the walls, reminding Ashley of the days she had spent hanging out with friends in the condemned sections of Tokyo's urban underbelly.
"God…" Ashley wrinkled her nose in disgust. "How old is the place…?"
"Hard to say…" Elijah moved his shoulders again, imitating a shrug. "I'm no historian, but this bar actually sits in one of the oldest sectors of the city."
"Really?"
"Well, the bar has been rebuilt…" Elijah trailed off. "A few too many times, actually. But the foundations are strong, and Barker never really saw the need to renovate the basement."
"I can see that…" Ashley muttered. "So where is this 'armory' exactly?"
"Right over there…" Elijah articulated his metal hand and pointed it towards a corner of the basement.
Ashley turned her head to spot what the simulacrum had been leading her expected disgust and disappointment; but upon closer scrutiny, Ashley had to admit that it wasn't the worst setup.
Laid out against the longer wall of the basement was an assortment of large metal cabinets and hard cases. Ashley could only assume that the large cabinets were where weapons were stored; while armor pieces were relegated to the cases. Pushed further away was a neat pile of boxes, their sides marked with warnings that they carried munitions.
"It could use some work…" Ashley frowned. "But at least Barker is serious about something…"
"Oh?' Elijah cocked his rectangular head. "Oh… that's just the attitude that the boss gives off sometimes. He knows what he's doing."
"You mean that there's another side to Barker that I have yet to see?"
"That side only really comes out during missions, you'll see it eventually."
"Right," Ashley released a long sigh. The dark haired woman stepped forwards, her feet carrying her to the neat assortment of cabinets and crates. Ashley ran her hands along the doors of the cabinet, wrapping her hands around the handle and giving it a gentle tug; unsurprisingly, the doors refused to budge - locked.
"Hang on…" Elijah muttered from behind. The simulacrum gently stepped past Ashely and tapped his robotic hand against a small keypad lock that Ashley had not noticed. Carefully articulating his metal hand, the simulacrum tapped in a four-digit code, releasing the lock with a quiet "click".
"The code is 'one-five-oh-one'..." Elijah spoke in his low computerized tone. He gestured to the locker doors, his single optic shining a dull blue. "Go ahead…"
Drawing her lips into a thin line, Ashley grabbed the handles and tugged the doors open. Inside the large locker was just over a dozen assorted rifles, each unloaded and placed neatly on pegs. Ashley's eyes scanned the weapons, noting the motley assortment of styles and ages; there were mostly older R-101's, with a few more modern R-201's tucked into a corner. To her surprise, Ashley spotted a G2A4 amongst the rabble.
"I thought that these were all snapped up by private collectors…" Ashley mumbled, one hand reaching out to gently touch the side of the G2A4.
"You like it?"
"I never really favoured them, it's just interesting to see a classic…" Ashley frowned and withdrew her hand.
"We've got some more weapons in the other locker."
"I might just stick with the SMART pistol for now. I've never really seen the need to stick with one type of weapon, so if I need a long gun I'll just grab one of these."
"Fair enough."
Ashley gently closed the cabinet locker doors, hearing the lock re-engage after a few moments. "I presume that you keep armor pieces in the hard cases?"
"That's right," Elijah nodded his metal head and stepped past Ashley. The simulacrum knelt down with surprising dexterity and hefted up one one of the metal hard cases. He slapped it down on a small workbench which stood behind them, quickly undoing the locks and flipping open the lid.
"Everything here is either scavenged or a hand me down…" Elijah muttered in his computerized tone. As he spoke, he withdrew an old pilot helmet from the inside of the case; there was visible damage on its surface, the most prominent scar being a visible bullet hole. "Maybe not this one…"
Elijah unceremoniously tossed the damaged helmet atop the workbench, allowing the headgear to roll off of the side and clatter onto the floor.
"Oh! Here we go!"
The simulacrum withdrew another helmet and wiggled it in Ashley's direction. Tentatively, the dark haired woman reached out to accept it. Ashley turned the helmet over in her hands to stare into it's mute faceplate.
It was an older style of helmet, outdated even by IMC standards at the beginning of the Frontier conflict. Bulbous and made from smooth metal, Ashley noted the four separate lights which formed a broken "x" shape on the helmet's face; they weren't visors, rather four separate cameras which worked together to construct an accurate video feed on the inside of the helmet. Near the top of the helmet's face, where Ashley's forehead would be located, was a small metal emblem shaped like a downwards facing arrow; even further upwards was a small antenna, which linked to the in-built radio on the side of the helmet. Lower, and resting on either side of the helmet, were metal "jowls" which Ashley recognized as rebreathers.
"Is everything here old?" Ashley grumbled, moving her arms up and down to get a feel for the helmet's weight.
"Hey, don't insult it…" Elijah sounded somewhat offended. The simulacrum rapped his metal hand atop the surface of the helmet. "Titanium and steel plating, four independent video feeds! These old Gorgon-pattern helmets were tough nuts to crack, far more durable than the new models."
Even the name had an ugly connotation…
"This thing could stop a Kraber round…"
"Really?"
"Well… assuming that it's a glancing shot…"
"So… no…?" Ashley scoffed, turning the helmet over in her hands so that it's mute face was pointing at the ground.
Frowning, Ashley made the attempt to try it on. Slipping the helmet over her head, Ashley pushed it past her ears and was pleasantly surprised to find that it fit rather snugly. However, this pleasant surprise was counteracted by the blindness the helmet caused her.
"How do you turn this on?" Ashley asked, her hands wiggling either side of the helmet, groping around for a switch.
"On your left side, there's a switch near the back of the radio. Press and hold it for about five seconds."
Groping around the area that Elijah suggested, Ashley found the aforementioned switch. She flicked it down and held it for five seconds, hearing a whirring noise as the helmet booted up. After a few moments the four video feeds activated, all splicing together to give Ashley a surprisingly clear view of the room around her.
"Working alright?"
Ashley turned her head to view the simulacrum leering over her. Elijah's optic betrayed no emotion, but the simulacrum was leaning forward as if mimicking the action of curiosity.
"Surprisingly, yes…" Ashley answered.
Ashley watched as text scrolled near the bottom of the video screen.
- NO JUMPKIT DETECTED -
- VITAL SIGNS… NORMAL -
- PILOT DESIGNATION… UNKNOWN -
- TITAN LINK… UNKNOWN -
"Do you have any jumpkits here?" Ashley asked, feeling the weight of the helmet as she turned her head to peer at the rest of the "armory".
"In one of the other cases…" Elijah responded. "You can try it on but don't fire it… Barker'll get really mad if you do…"
With her gait slightly off-balance due to the weight of the helmet, Ashley stepped over to the hard cases. She pushed open the top of one with her hands, finding a mish-mash assortment of armor pieces - something that she would have to sort through later. Opening up another crate, Ashley found several olive-drab coloured jumpkits, all neatly tucked away in protective shipping foam.
Pulling one jumpkit from the crate, Ashley secured the booster around her waist. Recognizing it's older design, Ashley pulled a long retracting wire from the side of the kit and plugged it into the side of her helmet.
- JUMPKIT… DETECTED -
- INITIALIZING JUMPKIT LINK… NO FUEL DETECTED -
Ashley took note of the text as it scrawled across the inside of the video feed.
Allowing the helmet to run its linking procedures, Ashley turned her attention to the crate she had first opened. After a few moments of rummaging around she pulled out a pair of shoulder pauldrons and knee protectors - both made of metal and badly scratched from previous use by their former owner.
"I uh… hope that you aren't planning on firing that thing up? Are you, 'Kara?" A familiar voice spoke, coming from the staircase which led to the basement.
Two heads, one metal and one helmeted, turned to face the interloper. Barker stood at the foot of the stairs, one hand wrapped around the frame so that he could lean to the side. The man had a stony look on his face, contrasting with the infuriating smirk that he usually wore.
"Because the last time that happened I had to deal with a raging inferno…" Barker warned in a low tone.
"No fuel in there, boss," Elijah shook his metal head, gesturing with one metal hand towards Ashley's kit. "I already gave her the warning."
"Good, good," Barker instantly relaxed. "Fire, alcohol, old wood foundations, and a pile of bullets… makes for a very bad combination under the right circumstances."
"What brought you down here?" Ashley asked, her voice muffled by her helmet.
"I heard the sounds of someone rummaging around… wanted to make sure that we didn't have any thieves," Barker explained. "Guess not."
Barker's dark eyes flicked between Ashley and the simulacrum. "I see that you two have become acquainted."
There was something to Barker's tone that Ashley found strange. His usual carefree attitude was absent as he spoke; Ashley could only wonder why.
"Same team, boss," Elijah made a noise akin to clearing one's throat. "Just wanted to introduce myself and help out."
"Sure," Barker responded, clearing his throat in-turn. "Well listen, Elijah… I gotta talk to 'Kara here… it's something private."
"Yeah, I'll shove off, no problem…" Elijah held up his hands in a peaceful motion. He turned his metal head to view Ashley with his single optic. "It was good meeting you, I look forward to working with you."
"Likewise," Ashley swallowed and nodded her helmeted head. "Thank you for your help."
Without another word the simulacrum left the basement, awkwardly squeezing past his employer as he did so. Elijah's metal feet sounded heavy against the old steps as he ascended to the upper floors of the establishment.
Barker waited a full ten seconds before speaking, only opening his mouth once the clanking noise of Elijah's metal feet were gone.
"Funny guy…" Barker cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the stairs which Elijah had just ascended. "Hey?"
"He seems alright…" Ashley frowned underneath her helmet. If there was one good thing about the lack of a proper visor, it was that her employer (and by extension, anyone else) would be unable to read her facial features.
Barker nodded, crudely wiping his nose with his forearm. He was unlike himself, something which Ashley instantly picked up on.
"Do you have a problem with him?"
"Huh? No… no…" Barker shook his head and waved his hand. "He's a good guy, really. I don't know…"
"It seems like you have a problem with him…"
Barker's dark eyes flicked between staring at the floor and Ashley.
"I don't know… it's not personal…" Barker muttered. "Just something about that metal chassis of his. Trapping someone's consciousness in a machine… kinda gives me the chills, I guess…"
Ashley said nothing, her helmet still concealing her face. Silently, she agreed with Barker… somewhat… and she felt oddly bad for doing so…
"Anyways," Barker rubbed the back of his neck before clasping his hands together. "Found something that fits you?"
"More or less…" Ashley wiggled her jumpkit with her hands. "It's a tad bit old though…"
"Most of this stuff is scavenged…" Barker shrugged. "You're not the first person to wear that helmet or that kit…"
"What happened to the previous owner?" Ashley asked, although she already had a pretty good suspicion as to what.
"Well…" Barker shrugged. "I think that you already know what happened to her. If it makes you feel better we gave everything a deep cleaning…"
Ashley silently nodded. If she was being honest it did feel strange to be wearing a dead person's armor; but the Militia and its affiliates had always had a scavenging policy - one they had maintained even after forming into a proper military power. Ashley's newest bunk bed had once belonged to someone else, her fancy SMART pistol had been wrenched from the still-warm hand of an enemy… it only made sense that her new armor had some history as well…
"It'll do…" Ashley unplugged the jumpkit from the helmet, beginning the process of stripping off the armor. "But I was hoping for something more modern… less analog…"
"Modern costs credits…" Barker shrugged. "Run a few jobs with us and you'll be swimming in them soon enough… once you pay off your debt to me, of course…"
"I haven't forgotten…"
"Just reminding you…" Barker chuckled and brushed past Ashley. "Hey, you want some wine?"
"You have wine down here?" Ashley deadpanned. "Next to a crate full of guns?"
"Why not? It's the perfect spot to age it…" Barker's knees audibly cracked as he bent down next to an unseen cubby. There was the sound of glass tapping around as Barker wrenched a dusty bottle of dark red liquid from its hideaway. "One year on this one…"
Ashley wrinkled her nose. "Sounds like its quality…"
"Well… I'm so sorry for not appealing to you 'Miss Hard-Liquor'…" Barker mocked. "What? I'm not allowed to enjoy the finer things in life?"
"I wouldn't call a one year old basement wine 'fine'... but whatever…" Ashley scoffed in response, tugging off her helmet and straightening her ponytail.
"Don't ever lose that attitude of yours…" Barker chuckled as he went for the stairs. "It's oddly endearing…"
Ashley's employer whistled a gentle tune as he ascended the old stairs, the bottle of wine still clenched in his hands. His previous dour attitude was seemingly gone, but Ashley's memory wasn't so short that she did not recall his awkwardness around Elijah.
There was something more there… Ashley just wasn't sure as to what…
"Hey, Barker?" Ashley called out, gently moving her head so that her ponytail straightened out behind her.
Barker paused his whistling and stopped, having already ascended the stairs halfway. The man turned with his hips, cocking his head to the side to give Ashley a curious look.
"Yeah, 'Kara?"
Ashley glanced down at the helmet in her hands before refocusing her vision on her employer.
"Do you know where I can find some spray paint?"
It was strange… but Ashley could not remember ever doing "mundane" things…
She could not remember the last time she had gone shopping; at least, in a large urban setting. She could not vividly recall the last time she had walked amongst skyscrapers… or casually along a bustling city street. She certainly could not remember how to open a bank account, considering that she worked up a habit of simply hiding her money…
Her current battle with the mundane was being fought with a clothing kiosk. Ashley's chosen products were currently highlighted in the digital cart, a few simple shirts and two pairs of pants. All Ashley wanted was some cheap printed clothing, but the payment process was giving Ashley trouble.
How was one supposed to use the payment card? Swipe it up? Swipe it down. Ashley had only owned the small chip card for about two hours, one of the benefits of opening a bank account, and was still figuring out its intricacies. She knew it's limits and she knew how to pay it off, but the dry run was giving her trouble.
"Work, damn you…" Ashley hissed in discontent as the card reader once again flashed red. It didn't help that the pop-up store she was in was playing some infuriating music over it's loudspeaker, a modern pop blend that Ashley had taken an instant dislike to.
One final swipe across the reader seemed to do the trick. The reader briefly flashed green and the kiosk finally got to work, humming and rattling as it quick-printed Ashley's requested clothing.
Ashley watched as a disposable bag ejected from the side of the machine, two waiting prongs pulling open the bag's dimensions as it came to a rest. Within seconds, Ashley's purchased shirts and pants ejected from a nearby roller, landing neatly into the bag.
Ashley gently groped the contents with her hand, noting how warm the newly-printed fabric still was, in addition to the plasticy scent hanging in the air.
Quick-print clothing had been introduced nearly a century ago; and while it had become cheaper to produce and sell, the quality of the product had not improved at all…
Knowing that the line behind her was growing irate, Ashley grabbed her bag and receipt and went for the door. The dark haired woman received some strange looks for her current attire - her faded old jumpsuit from Antheia - and it was because of these strange looks that Ashley had first begun her quest for "normal" clothing.
Taking a left outside of the store, the dark haired woman walked off in the direction of the citywide tram system. All she had to do was backtrack her way out of the commercial center of the city, back to the rougher part of town where MacAllan's was located. The colorful lights and sounds of the commercial center irritated her, reminding Ashley of the bright neon lights of Tokyo.
As she walked, cars and trucks zipped by on the nearby road, their hydrogen engines thrumming as they passed. Ashley had to be careful not to bump into anyone, with throngs of people criss-crossing the sidewalks she had no choice. The dark haired woman felt like a stranger… and she was. She felt awkward as she walked, her bag of clothing dangling from her fingers. Ashley received constant strange looks, her old boots and faded jumpsuit standing out amongst the nicer clothing and stylized hair of her fellow pedestrians.
It was with some relief that the dark haired woman finally boarded the tram, the doors sliding shut behind her as she stepped inside. Ashley felt safer and more comfortable inside, the sounds of the mag-rails drowning out the sounds of people around her.
Ashley felt herself longing for Antheia again. The townspeople who mostly minded their own business, the dark comfort of her room in the inn… no congestion or urban sprawl to speak of…
While she had wasted away two years drunk on Erebus II, the universe continued to move on. While she hid away for months on Antheia living a lie, the universe continued to move on…
But she never had.
Once again, Ashley was out of her element, assuming she ever had one in the first place. The dark haired woman was growing tired of constantly being a stranger in a strange land…
