Part One: Tortured Skyline
Herro-7 had always found long in-atmosphere flights tedious.
In the past he had tried several different methods to keep his mind occupied. Unfortunately, his ghost didn't know many riddles and he got motion sick if he tried in-flight reading. Was never much of a reader, but there was only so much cloud-watching an EXO could take. So he dozed the few hours of flight away instead.
With a stretch and yawn he glanced out the view screen at the screen of clouds, before warily eyeing the array of instruments blinking busily in his ship's cramped cockpit.
After a minute of pretending to know what he was looking at he finally gave up trying to figure out where they had ended up and fixed his bright blue optics on his ghost.
"Are we there yet?" He asked plaintively.
"Yes, nearly." His Ghost replied absently, processors on other things.
"How close is 'nearly', Ghosty?"
Herro's ghost shot him a nasty look. He had never appreciated his nickname, no matter how affectionately given. Herro blinked back innocently. "We're almost there."
"How close is…"
"Do you want me to turn this ship around?" The irritated ghost interrupted.
"Is that an option?" The EXO asked hopefully.
"No."
Herro slumped back in his seat, pouting. A glance out the window provided yet another view of endless clouds.
"I still don't get why we're doing this." He sighed.
"Didn't we speak about this at length?" The ghost replied, an edge to his voice. "We're doing this because you lost a bet."
"Well, you spoke at me about it." Herro grumbled and stretched again, feeling something click into its proper place when he rolled his shoulder.
"If you had listened the last time we wouldn't be in this situation now."
Herro eyed his Ghost but knew from experience that the more he managed to tick him off the more the smooth ride of his ship would begin to deteriorate. One would think that whoever had designed the EXO would have been able to program out motion sickness, but noooo…
Fingers drumming against the interior hull, Herro looked at his own faint reflection in the window. Anything was better than a constant view of clouds, and he had to admit his own sleek chassis was a distinct improvement.
The ship banked sharply before her pointed prow sliced earth-ward. The clouds parted and Herro leaned forward in his seat, suddenly a lot more interested.
Not in the vast expanse of water stretching out uncomfortably close to the hull of his ship. No,iInstead what caught his gaze was the blight fast approaching on the horizon, dark and jagged, wreathed in fog and wild overgrowth.
"That's…"
"Big? Dark? Kinda Scary?" Herro suggested.
Ghosty ignored his Guardian. "Old Chicago."
"I was going to say that next."
"Scanning for a good place to transmat." Ghosty continued.
Herro, looking at the looming maw of water and jagged metal, shuddered before suggesting hopefully, "Shouldn't we fly over a few more times? Y'know, scout it out from the air? Get the lay of the land?"
"I don't see any land." The ghost turned to fix his guardian with a weather eye. "But it would probably be wise to…"
Herro tried to look innocent.
"You really don't want to go down there, do you?"
Herro gestured to himself. "EXO." Pointed down, "Water." He paused for effect before making a 'you see?' gesture. "The two don't exactly mix well."
It never failed to unnerve the EXO when his ghost stared at him and gave a long, slow blink-like equivalent.
"Fine." He muttered. "But you get to pay for the detailing when I have to haul my rusty ass into the shop."