Vega had yet again left, what'd seemed now to be several hours prior.
Brad had miserably sat back down, then lay back down, crossing his arms over his face in an attempt for some dark. He thought about what little had been said, trying to figure out what Backdraft could possibly need him for, especially given his short - but antagonistically distinct - history with the organization.
He thought about the Shadow Fox, assuming that Backdraft had taken possession of it again as well. But he hoped like hell it'd managed to somehow get away.
And Naomi. And her Gun Sniper. What could Backdraft possibly want he himself to do, that Naomi could not also do? Why wasn't she also here? She must have escaped, or simply never been captured. Right? Or was she simply somewhere else in this compound? Had she been hurt? Had she been killed? Would he ever be able to get out of this godawful hole and figure any of this out?
Hunger gnawed his insides, painful. He felt horrible, and exhaled through a growing seethe.
Brad knew that part of his hunger was for lack of nicotine. But as he irritably shifted his arms across his face - he started to realise he must've been in here for a while because he'd grown a fair amount of stubble. Between the lack of any kind of reflective surface, and vague dissociation from basic sensations out of boredom… he really hadn't taken notice until now.
The severe hunger then made sense at least.
Not like sense helped.
He sat up and went to the sink, bending for a drink. It was all he could do, teeth aching as he gulped the frigid water.
He startled at motion and sound behind him. Several Backdraft soldiers stood there, overly-armed. Brad raised his brows, eyes darting subtly as he assessed them and their weapons… before an obviously-senior officer moved through the group, brandishing restraints.
"Not today." The officer was a woman wearing a dark visor and whose taupe uniform bore the Backdraft insignia. She wasn't gentle in the slightest, crossing Brad's arms tightly and clamping his wrists into energy-restraints. Another soldier assisted; within moments ankle restraints matched the ones on Brad's wrists, and a waist chain had been lashed around his midsection. The whole lot was tethered together with just enough give to allow walking.
Brad stared at this with some incredulity. "Afraid I'm goin' somewhere?"
However, only a few minutes later, the reason for their caution became apparent. As the group rounded a corner, Brad blinked - and recognized the place. His mind ticked through a few markers, and found them all. They were in the Mackaray mountains. This was the base he'd stolen the Fox from.
He sourly chuckled to himself. No wonder they weren't taking any chances. Brad looked around at what Zoids he could see in the hangar, hoping. But no Shadow Fox.
The base was much larger than what little he'd wormed through many months ago. The group traveled what Brad guesstimated was five or six times the width of the Blitz Team's hangar, ducking through several corridors on the way. The layout was confusing - and he was having a hard time focusing at all, nevermind taking detailed mental notes.
Brad realized with some concern that they weren't really making any effort to prevent him from getting a look at things. That concern deepened as they stopped in front of a highly-secured hangar door. He glanced at the handful of soldiers in the group, but not only did they pointedly avoid eye-contact, their faces didn't tell him anything.
As they were busy dealing with the door, Brad froze in place.
A deep, primal feeling rattled through the man, like powerful bass with no actual sound. Almost painful with its intensity, it quickly became sharp, like a vice tightened on his bones. He had no idea what this feeling was, but he'd felt it before.
Brad and Leon stood together, assessing the Liger Zero. Some shifty con-man had unloaded the damn thing on Leon's father, and now the team was saddled with this bizarre, testy Zoid that'd be impossible to find spare parts for.
"Well, maybe we can get some use out of it." Leon, bright side.
"Nobody sells a good Zoid for that cheap. Something's wrong with it." Brad, less so.
"Not according to the mechanic. Or Jaime."
Brad had opinions on mechanics. And: "No offense to Hemeros' kid but…" He trailed off.
Leon sighed. "We should at least see how well it handles. Wanna go first?"
A shrug. Indifference. When Leon didn't move for a few seconds, Brad took the initiative and idly clambered up to the cockpit's side. "If I like it, I get to use it. For free."
Leon chuckled. "Sure."
Brad tapped the flange armor with a boot. Most Zoids took this subtle signal as a request for the cockpit hatch to open, if they hadn't opened it in anticipation already. The Liger didn't move.
"Great start." Brad muttered. "Come on. Open up."
After a moment, the cockpit opened. A little. Just enough to get in. Brad slipped into the seat, eyes combing the controls and accessories. He placed his hands on the main throttles, and-
That feeling. A bone-crushing pressure without pain. It took his breath away, made him lightheaded. Felt both excruciating and strangely orgasmic. After several seconds, sense came back in a rush. No pain, but there was the strange, extended anticipation of it - like a careless freedive from a icy waterfall, you knew you would eventually-
Brad let go of the controls and bunched his fists in alarm.
After several more seconds, he realized he'd been holding his breath, and resumed normal breathing after a few awkward gasps for air. It'd been over a minute.
From below: "Hey, Brad? You OK?"
That same feeling.
The door opened. A smaller hangar, a deeply slanted roof. A few smaller units were present, but the armorless Berserk Fury was clearly the dominant Zoid in view. Vega was sitting on a crate by the door. He hopped off as Brad and the soldiers entered, trailing the group.
Brad wasn't touching any Zoid, but could somehow tell that the feeling simply emanated - beckoned - from the Berserk Fury. The man glanced at Vega, caught his eye, and gave him a stare of profound confusion.
Vega simply nodded and grinned, ever-so-slightly.
The kid felt it too?
Brad twinged, struck by a surge of irrational, possessive envy.
It was his to experience, and his alone.
Confused, he blinked away the thought.
The group marched up stairs to an elevated walkway and platform. Sara stood near the Fury, watching the group approach. She looked impatient, hawkish, and she motioned sharply. The soldiers escorting Brad undid the restraints on his wrists and arms, but left everything else attached. Sara then looked squarely at Brad.
"Get in."
Brad squinted at her, and side-eyed the Zoid. "You... want me to pilot? This thing?"
A more discerning look told him that the Fury was tethered, bound in place by a moderately-sized framework. Judging by the marring on both the framework and the Fury's edges, this had been a repeat arrangement… and one that it wasn't terribly fond of. Just viewing the Berserk Fury from this distance pierced the mind with a distinct feeling - that of exposed prey. A strange sensation in contrast with its magnetism. Was he supposed to hide from it, or run to it?
When Sara said nothing, just pointed again, Brad cut his eyes back at Vega. "This is your Zoid."
"Yeah."
"If I get in that thing, I'm out of here."
Vega seemed equal parts tired and amused. "Sure."
Brad leaned down to his height for more-direct eye contact. "Kid. I will steal. Your. Zoid. And leave."
He met the older man's gaze directly. "You're welcome to try."
Something was off. Brad wanted to be suspicious, wanted to be irritated, but only found himself lured by that sickly sweet beckon in his periphery. He'd only really viewed the Berserk Fury from afar before, as a daunting - and dangerous - opponent. Here, with the opportunity to seize control-
He caught himself. Closed his eyes, tried to concentrate.
The deep craving intensified.
"He likes you." Vega said. "I really do think you can help us out. He wants to defeat the Liger Zero."
Much louder than intended, Brad said: "Fantastic. What's this got to do with me? Zip. Nada. Nothing's stopping you. You're a registered pilot. Go challenge Bit. It's a free planet."
Vega stared for a few seconds too long. He was clearly hesitant to respond.
"...I'm not strong enough."
"To do what?"
"Defeat them."
"Oh, okay. And you somehow think I am?"
"Hopefully."
"You're Vega Obscura, the fucking King. Appreciate the vote of confidence, but I'm just-"
Brad was trying to walk away, back the way he'd been led across the platform, but was stopped by the armed soldiers. They pushed him back. Vega waved a dismissive hand - at the guards, at Brad, at everything.
"Come on. Just get in. It's okay."
A brief, fake smile struggled to his young face but died on lips. It was not okay.
Brad scowled and looked over his shoulder at the Berserk Fury.
He wasn't particularly conscious of going from point A to B. He vaguely remembered the soldiers flanking him as he approached the open cockpit, but that was about it. Now in the seat, he assessed the controls. But couldn't keep track of what it was he looked at. It didn't matter. Everything felt so good it hurt. Rational thought briefly noted how bizarre and truly undesirable the situation actually was, but it was quickly quashed by monstrous delight.
A voice, deep and empty, whispered into the back of his mind.
~Do you want power?~
He did.
~Do you want control?~
More than anything, at the moment.
~I want out of here also.~
It was understood. They both wanted control of the situation, and that required a mutual surrender. The issue: in no way were they equals. But there wasn't really time to contemplate. The agreement took hold and Brad seized in the cockpit, stiffening awkwardly in the seat.
Vega watched, his expression sliding towards disappointment-
-for only a split second, before Brad sat back up, grabbed the controls, and the cockpit snapped shut. Vega blinked, while Sara and the soldiers startled. The woman shot a look at Vega, who just shrugged.
"I told you. He likes him."
"Fine. Then tell the Fury-"
A creak then long groan of metal. The Berserk Fury tore out of the scaffolding and with seeming ease ripped free of wire and restraint. It surged forward a few steps into the mostly-empty bay, shaking off bits of debris.
The massive Zoid then turned and looked back at the platform. And shrieked. Defiant.
"Vega- " And Sara recognized the glazed, inhuman look in the child's eyes. Rapt, Vega completely ignored Sara and grabbed the rails, hefting himself for a better view.
Every motion was perfect, smooth. The controls reminded Brad of the Fox's smooth perfection but sharper; more distinct. Some part of him knew he wasn't used to the height or balance of a saurian Zoid, but it mattered a lot less than he thought it would.
Now to leave. Which way.
~I do not know. This is not my hangar.~
Doors, windows? The Zoid's head swept with observation, before pilot and Zoid made a spontaneous decision for the nearby corridor - the direction from which Brad had been led. There was some yelling, scrambling, and the distinct awareness that the crowd present was trying to close and fortify the hangar door.
No, not happening. The Berserk Fury skirted through the opening with grace, bolting through the corridor and into an adjacent bay. There may have been a klaxon, there may have been people scrambling around. There may have even been other Zoids, but they were boring and irrelevant, asleep and not worth anyone's time.
Another door; that looked more familiar to the Fury and Brad alike. But it was closed. The armorless Zoid stalked closer and lashed the door with its tail, testing. Not blastproof; just for climate control. The Berserk Fury bunched a haunch and smashed in the door with its talons, stalking through the revealed short corridor into yet another, more populous hangar.
Now there were people, rushing, getting into Zoids. Zoids in the way.
Annoying. Irrelevant. Rev Raptors? Kicked aside like refuse. A Guysack? Jaws seized the spindly tail and pitched the entire Zoid across the the indoor space. Several approaching Helcats thought better of coming any closer, scrambling to a halt and instead firing lasers from where they stood.
All indoors; all too close. The Berserk Fury charged forward and sank its teeth into a Helcat, Brad surprised at the sheer, buttery ease of it. The Zoid shook the hapless Helcat violently before tossing it at the others. They all buckled, either struck directly, or from fright.
Laughable. The Fury threw its head back and shrieked a roar, intimidating any other Zoids that'd yet to creep in close. Nothing else really dared approach, much to the dismay of numerous pilots.
Good. The Fury rumbled, pivoted, and nudged at yet another closed door, preparing to tear it open as well.
A twinge. The raging Zoid paused.
In the tense, settling silence there came the tapping of footsteps, then the rhythmic clanks of someone descending a ladder. Vega strolled out onto the bay floor, hands folded casually behind his head as was his manner. The Berserk Fury swung to face the child.
Brad thrust the controls forward, face devoid of expression until resistance was met. Then his pupils pinpointed, and he scowled, stymied.
The Fury growled softly at Vega.
~I tire of patience. Let us destroy.~
"Sara wants t-"
~I tire of Sara.~
Vega glanced up and sidelong at Sara as she arrived on the elevated walkway. Like any child, he too tired of his mother. But he wasn't terribly inclined to turn on her, and brushed aside the casual murder trying to leach into his mind. He changed the subject.
"Guess you two get along?"
Brad wracked the unresponsive controls, trembling angrily. What'd been perfect synchrony became man vs. wall. "Come on. Move!"
~Yes.~
Vega gestured vaguely and the Fury's cockpit opened, revealing an enraged Brad. The rile drained from the man's face, replaced by dull confusion.
"He's still my Zoid." Vega said, levelly. "He listens to me."
"Well. I don't."
"But you'll listen to him. So."
Brad ripped off the seat restraints and stood in the cockpit, pointing. "I don't take orders from anyone, kid. You or a Zoid."
Vega glanced down, picked up a random piece of shrapnel from the chaos, and smoothly tossed it to Brad. In an equally-fluid motion Brad caught it, though a split-second later seemed disgusted about it.
The child smiled but his eyes did not. "You'll do what the Fury asks."
"Fuck you." Brad went to throw the piece right back at Vega, but couldn't. His arm and hand went taut, shaking, gloves digging into the splinter's sharp edges.
"Do what he asks," Vega snarled, muscles in his neck cording. He took on Brad's pose, but moved his own arm so his hand hovered below his chin.
Brad sucked in air as his grip on the shard tightened to the point of splitting his glove, then the skin of his palm. He stifled a grunt of dismay, arm shivering several seconds more before he lost control and mirrored Vega's pose. Unlike Vega, he had something very sharp in his hand, and its edge both glanced his throat and nicked his chin. Nothing serious, but he didn't like how distinct the warm rivulets of blood felt.
Vega chuckled. Obnoxiously. None of this seemed to register to him as much more than entertainment.
The Fury found the man's powerless, trembling rage delightful, and basked in it for several seconds before allowing both humans to drop their arms.
Brad immediately threw down the shard and put pressure on his bleeding hand, eyes closing against the pain. When he opened them again, something had changed. Desperation and panic had clearly taken over, but his voice was thick with rage.
"I'm going to fucking kill you."
"Are you? Are you really?"
Brad started to leap out of the cockpit, but the combination of the surrounding Backdraft soldiers cocking weapons and the Fury ever-so-slightly tilting its head back - knocking Brad backwards - stopped him soundly. He didn't respond or really even move afterwards, staring at nothing with an intense frustration.
"Didn't think so," Vega sneered, walking away.