Hello my beautiful readers! I managed to update again! Yay! My objective the past month or so has really been to properly plan out this story so I know where I'm going with it, and have several chapters written in advance so that if I do hit writer's block, my updates aren't affected. I am going through some WB right now, though only with this story, but I still have 1 chapter written in reserve, so woop. Updates will be a little staggered over the next few weeks since I have assignments to do and exams to study for, so just be prepared!

RECAP:
The bounty hunters and Tori encountered pirate Arthur Kirkland and his crew at an anchorage near Galee. Francis and Arthur, having a long history, had a fight which ended with Francis biting Arthur's finger off.
Lukas and Emilia are who knows at this point, but (wink wink nudge nudge), since they have money, they might be able to go places they want to go to...
Lovino and Feliciano are on Rela, still, and Lovino is training Feliciano.
Some members of the Resistance; Matthew, Abel, Kari, Bella and Carlotta, have gone on a rescue mission to help their friend Elizabeta, who is held captive by Arthur Kirkland. Tino remains on Nyma.

WARNINGS: Cursing (because Francis and Arthur are here), mild sexual harassment, mentions of some war shit.

Also, some new characters this chapter! Yay! Please review guys! I love hearing what you think and it really inspires me to keep going!

Garsinon Anchorage [Galee]
8TH Fybwari

Of all setbacks, a power outage. Arthur had been content to rage against Francis, but not long after they had returned to their ship, a great drone, the drone of a dying machine, had filled the air. He had taken joy in at least seeing how one of Francis' bounty hunter friends had whitened within seconds and run back to their ship like she was afraid of being sucked into the void of space. Her friend, the other Pyndaphian, had been too busy laughing to explain that Calexa-A forcefields like this one didn't rely on power, and that she was perfectly safe. The girl had attempted to roundhouse kick the Pyndaphian, to no avail, and Arthur, despite not knowing either of them, and despite them being friends of Francis, found the scene amusing. It had served, at least, to take his mind off the pain in his hand for a moment.

Arthur was no weakling. He prided his strong tolerance for pain, and was hardly new to bad injuries. But this took the cake. He couldn't believe that the crazy blond had gone so far. This wasn't something that could be easily fixed – and Arthur didn't have the money for it, like Francis no doubt thought he did. At least, it was only his pinkie finger, instead of something more vital, like his pointer finger. Still though.

And it hurt like hell too. Yes, it had hurt at the time, horrifically so. But even now, it spasmed and ached endlessly. He'd been given morphine and other painkillers, but the pain managed to still cut through the pleasant haze provided by both. He wanted to ask for more, badly, but he knew that he had already ingested too many. He wanted the pain to stop, but he didn't want to accidentally overdose. He sighed. Sitting in his ship waiting for the power to restart was going to drive him insane.

Some of the bounty hunters from Francis' ship had already come over. Hell, Roderich's cousin – Gilbert? Yes, his name was Gilbert – had come in to visit and apologise for his friend's behaviour. Though the albino was loud and seemed a little arrogant for Arthur's tastes, he already vastly preferred his company over Francis', and even Leon's at this point. The 17-year-old had been oddly quiet as of late, and had spent a lot of time checking through databases, and using Arthur's Cell to look at the Index. Whoever he was investigating, however, he kept to himself, even going so far as to wipe the search history from the device. It bothered Arthur. He knew that Leon resented him, of course, he would have to be blind to not notice that, but he didn't think the boy hated him enough to conspire against him.

He groaned, shaking his head to dispel the headache he could feel forming. He stood. Staying cramped in here while nursing his wounded pride wouldn't help him one bit. He considered his options. Well, if Roderich's cousin felt entitled enough to come aboard their ship, he supposed he would have to return the favour.

His mortal enemy's ship, the ISS Marauder, was a beauty, that he had to admit. He'd heard from Gilbert, when he'd commented on it yesterday, that their pilot, Antonio, poured his heart and soul into its maintenance. And it showed. The Mutiny was well-worn and a little beaten up from numerous encounters with law enforcement, but Arthur had never had the time or energy to put so much effort in. It must be because they had so many people on their crew, that Carriedo had so much time for it.

He spent another moment gazing up at it before lowering his eyes and approaching the open entryway. He stuck his head around, and spotted a few of them lounging around in the main room.

"Can I enter, or has the blond cunt cast a spell?" he asked sarcastically. Antonio, who was seated on the floor and apparently fixing his watch with a screwdriver, looked up, surprised.

"Oh, you can come in." he said, turning back to his task. Arthur made his way up the ramp, looking around. Though the exterior was very clean and polished, the inside was a different story. It was obvious that a great many people lived here. He could see old plates, food remains, clothes and all sorts of other personal effects scattered about the room. It was interesting. Roderich could be quite uptight when it came to hygiene. It seemed no one here had the same proclivities. It was oddly refreshing. Antonio gestured vaguely to the whole room, as if to say, go where you want. Arthur nodded at him – neither of them wanted to start a conversation with the other – so he decided to see if he could meet any of the other bounty hunters here.

It was funny. When Arthur heard the words 'bounty hunter' he sort of envisioned someone similar to himself, toughened but not evil. And for the most part, that's what they were like. This young man, however, didn't fit the mould at all.

Well, he couldn't really call him a young man, considering that he seemed around Arthur's own age, but he had an odd immaturity, a youthfulness about him. Mei was only 15-years-old, and yet she seemed to have more worldliness than this one. His name was Alfred, as he excitedly introduced himself. The boy (because he was not mature enough to pass as a man) had then tried to shake his hand, grabbed the injured one, and spent the next ten minutes apologising while Arthur fought back tears of pain. Alfred had had the sense, at least, to not try and touch him more. Once Arthur had managed to shake off the pain, he'd actually spoken to him properly. He was pleasant enough, though he spoke very loudly and very quickly. He also asked a lot of questions, which was irritating, considering that Arthur did tend to be a more private person. But finally, the boy actually asked a question he could answer.

"Why does Francis hate you? I mean, you seem cool to me." Arthur was a little touched at the last part, though he didn't tell or show Alfred that. He sighed. Their relationship was an interesting one. They hadn't even always been enemies. When they'd first met, on Yan, they'd become friends. Arthur had been 18, Francis 16. It still shocked him that the Rywanese man was younger than him. Francis had always been taller, broader, and just seemed wiser, than Arthur was. In Arthur's mind, Francis was the elder of the two, if not physically then mentally, though Arthur had an old soul as well. He'd often run along the days of their friendship in his mind, and recalled exactly how it had gone sour. He crossed his arms over his knee, and rested his head on them.

"I was a slave driver." He eventually said, "I helped transport them and sell them. Francis hates the whole slave industry, so when he found out, he began to hate me as well." He turned his head to face Alfred, and shrugged, "Simple as that." Alfred was frowning.

"I didn't even know he hated slavery, but he hates you just because you were involved in a minor part of the process?"

Arthur nodded. They were quiet for a while after that.

"I don't do it anymore." He murmured, repeating himself when Alfred looked at him inquisitively. "Slave-driving. I cut myself out of that business a few years ago, became a pirate instead." Alfred looked more confused than before.

"Then why does he still hate you, if you quit it?" Arthur scoffed.

"By the time that I left that line of work, we loathed each other. I didn't do it for him, I did it because I heard of more profitable careers."

"Like piracy."

"Yes, like piracy."

More silence.

"You're brutally honest, you know?"

"I have been told, yes."

"I like it." And when Arthur looked over at Alfred, the smile on his face was completely genuine. He tipped his head to him slightly.

"Thank you."

Bibesti,
Rela,
9TH Fybwari

He dodged madly as the knives came ever closer to his face, bobbing and ducking, like he'd been taught. One swung out of nowhere, right near his throat. As he moved to the right to avoid it, another slashed upwards, carving deep into his face, right next his eye. Had it been a centimetre to the left, it might have blinded him.

"Shit." Lovino swore when he noticed the bleeding cut on his younger brother's face. "Shit, Feli, I'm so sorry." Feliciano shook his head, both at the apology and the horrified look on his brother's face.

"It's fine, it doesn't even hurt that bad," he assured him, "and besides, I'm going to get injured eventually. My opponent isn't going to be giving me the chance to dodge." Lovino still frowned, but flicked his knives around in his hands and came at him again. They'd only been at this for a week, and all that Feliciano felt he had learned so far was that his brother was an incredible fighter, and he himself was almost completely useless. He could do little more than duck, and be glad that he at least had excellent reflexes. But his brother was just so much better. It was obvious to him now that when he'd faced off against Lovino for fun, he'd been seriously underplaying his talents. Feliciano lasted only seconds against him in knife-play, and only a little longer in hand-to-hand combat. Because of his speed and agility, he was quite good at dodging, but that wasn't good enough. Feliciano needed to be able to go on the offensive.

They continued, and though Lovino was going noticeably slower, and was using wider strokes, which were easier to dodge, Feliciano still got nicked by the wickedly sharp blades. Lovino stilled and stopped after a while, lowering his knife. Feliciano looked up, indignant.

"Come on, I can still fight," he said, lowering his eyes in shame, "please, just a little longer?" his words died in his mouth when he looked up again. His brother was doubled over, clutching his stomach, breathing heavily. Small drops of blood were appearing on his shirt. Feliciano bolted to his side, wrapping his arms gently but firmly around his brother, wrapping Lovino's arms around his shoulders so he could bear his brother's weight for him.

"Come on, you'll be okay, you'll be okay." He murmured, "we just need to get back home, yeah?" Lovino squeezed his eyes shut, nodding weakly. Feliciano took the blade from his brother's hand, so that if anyone did try to attack them on the short road back home, he would be prepared. He cursed internally. It had been three weeks, yes, but his wound hadn't cauterised, since the two of them couldn't be burned, and Feliciano was no master when it came to stitching up stab wounds. Lovino had been healing slowly, and Feliciano had foolishly pushed his brother to train him, even when he knew that he was still injured. He took Lovino back home carefully, but quickly, not calling on Sadik this time. If the man saw that Lovino had no burn marks from their cauterisation attempt, he would instantly be suspicious, which meant that Feliciano had to try and care for his brother by himself.

It was very lucky for Feliciano that Lovino's condition wasn't as bad as he'd thought. By the next afternoon, he was up and walking around their apartment again. He said that he'd probably just twisted around too far or something similar, which had made it open and bleed again. Feliciano apologised profusely, but Lovino refused to hear it, stating only that he wasn't responsible for it, and that he was happy to be teaching him how to fight. His mind was on his fighting ability during one such conversation.

"Brother," he started, "I'm no good at fighting, we both know it." Lovino turned, looking surprised, though it was likely more at the fact that he had spoken Syhvvanian than the actual content of his sentence. Feliciano had thought that he'd lost his native language, and had been nearly inconsolable for a good two days straight. His brother had sat down in front of him and said "Our language isn't something you can lose, not even if you go without speaking it for as long as you have." He'd responded that he couldn't be serious, that it was always a possibility, and Lovino had just smiled and told him that he had just spoken in the same language that he was so worried about losing.

He'd heard his brother speaking their native tongue and responded instinctively. In the days since, he felt like massive chunks of the language re-entered his head every day, and they always spoke it when they were alone. It was strange that speaking Syhvvanian gave him so much comfort, especially given that he had only known his true heritage for little over a week. It was probably some ancient instinct, long forgotten by his mind but not his body. Lovino did sometimes have to gently correct his pronunciation on certain words, but when he knew it, he knew it forever. Lovino had also started teaching him their planet's history at his insistence. But there was one, fairly major aspect of their lives that he refused to discuss further.

"I want to learn to use my gifts." Lovino tensed when he heard the words, and sighed, looking tired.

"I've already told you why you can't." he had. Lovino said that it would be dangerous. One of the Syhvvanian gifts was fire, and if Feliciano couldn't control it, he would burn their whole apartment down. The other wasn't really any better. Telekinesis; which just opened up the possibility of him accidentally throwing their furniture out the window with his mind. Feliciano sighed. Lovino made it seem so easy. He did it quite often now, since Feliciano knew everything. Feli would get to watch white-hot flames dance across his brother's palms, and watch him move things through the air without lifting a finger, but was not permitted to do it himself. He was trying to not feel too disappointed about it. It wasn't just the magic of it all that made him want to learn. Lovino had finally shown him the bounties that the Union had attached to their heads. He'd nearly had a heart attack. Their constant moving, at least, made a lot more sense now. He'd had a brief moment of panic, in which he'd just flapped his hands and whisper-screeched "what about our names?" before Lovino had calmed him down and explained that though their names were rare in the solar system that Syhvva was in, they were quite common in other places, like Jhobras, which was where they were pretending to be from. It had calmed his nerves, but agreed that they should prepare solid aliases just in case. Really, Feliciano's life had been endlessly more confusing since Lovino had told him the truth. He was still slightly overwhelmed by it all, but was doing his best to absorb all that was happening.

Lovino was a lot better at handling this than he was, that was for sure. But whenever he got too scared about it too sleep, his older brother had taken to running his hand through Feliciano's hair until he fell asleep. Feliciano felt like they hadn't been this close in years, but the stress of the secret that they now shared was almost too much to bear.

He'd been going out to get more rice when it happened. Lovino could barely even believe it – he had trusted him, for years, and now of all times he chose to go back on his word? But a moment later he smelled the alcohol on his breath, and understood. He shifted, pushing and pushing at him, trying to get the heavier man away from him. His whiskey-stained lips were pressing at his neck, and he felt his skin crawl.

"Get off," he hissed, anger quickly dissolving into fear, "please, please just get off. Get off!" he shouted the last time, and heard a door open. Not his own, but another from across the hall, one that belonged to a man he had seen but never spoken to. He continued to push at the obviously-drunk Sadik, and suddenly the pressure was gone, the Qyyytish man shoved back, against the opposite wall. Lovino whirled around, staring at his saviour. A neighbour he was aware he had but had never associated himself with. Taking his first proper look at him, he realised that he wasn't much older than Lovino himself. Neither was he tall, or overly intimidating in appearance. The most intimidating thing about him was definitely the rifle in his hands. He growled, jabbing it in Sadik's direction.

"Get back to your own hovel." He demanded, eyes narrowing. Though Sadik was incredibly drunk, he clearly wasn't drunk enough to not recognise a high-calibre assault rifle when he saw it, and within a moment, he had done as the man had bid. The gun wasn't lowered until Sadik's door was shut behind him, at which point he finally turned to face Lovino, expression softening ever so slightly.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked. Lovino shook his head, fixing up his clothes with slightly shaking hands. He'd been attacked in such a way before, had similarly perverted people attempt to coerce him to bed, but they had always been strangers. Sadik was a friend. Had been a friend for years. The man grunted, resting the butt of his rifle on the floor, staring at Sadik's door with a frown. Lovino studied him.

They were around the same height, and the man was clearly of Pyndaphian heritage, bearing the trademark blond hair and green eyes. His hair was longish, and fell to a few inches above his shoulders. He wore heavy-soled black combat boots, a white, long-sleeved shirt, and green army camouflage pants. He was just barely older than him, Lovino would guess, probably in his early twenties. The man turned back to face him, gaze flickering across his face. His eyes widened. Without prompting, he reached over and grabbed Lovino's chin, pulling his face toward him.

The man held eye contact with him for a long moment, staring at him like a scientist stares at an organism under a microscope. Other than that, had the man leant forward just a little, they would have been kissing. As soon as he realised that fact, Lovino jerked himself out of the man's grip. The man didn't try to hold onto him, releasing his grip immediately. He did note, with concern, how the man's gaze then fell on his hair, dyed black as it had been for years now. Lovino shifted, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

"Thanks," he muttered, turning on his heel and marching back inside to his apartment without a backward look. He received no response, and shivered slightly.

Caladras,
Nyma,
11TH Fybwari

Tino wiped blood from his face, breathing heavily. His normally pale, sand-coloured robes were drenched in crimson, both from others and himself. He frowned. Normally, being a sniper, he was far removed from the actual carnage, but this mission had gone almost completely haywire, and a bomb had taken out several of Tino's teammates. His ears were still ringing from it. Though he felt horrible about it, he felt relieved. Relieved that instead of coming on this convoy, his closest friends were elsewhere, travelling to try and recover Elizabeta from the pirates which had abducted her. Not that their mission was any less dangerous. Pirates could be ruthless, and they would be even more motivated by the large bounty offered for Elizabeta. He was hoping against hope that they all came back safe. Matthew, Abel, Carlotta, Bella and Kari had taken off to retrieve their Daernic friend days ago, and Tino wasn't worrying any less.

Matthew and Abel had been the ones to plan the operation, and there was no way Kari would permit them to save her friend without her. Bella and Carlotta had joined on to give them a good number of people for a rescue mission. Tino had had to stay on Nyma. He was one of the Resistance's best snipers, and had been needed for this. Spies from the Union had been interfering in some of the territorial disputes that the native Nymian people had been having nearby. The Mugarobe and Coysash peoples had been vying over a stretch of land known as Katye's Plain for years now, and it had escalated into a full-on civil war. The Resistance was assisting the Coysash people, as it was their land that their base was built on. The tribe of over 3 million people also prevented travel from Union personnel into their lands, and also provided them with food in hard months. The Coysash had helped them survive and do as much as good as they had been able to do. So, in return, they also helped the Nymian tribe fight their wars.

Tino hated how much destruction the war had already created, though on his brief journeys to Daerna and Fynkn, he had seen far worse. The current area of contention within the Plain was the city that Tino was in right now – Caladras. Once, it had been beautiful, but like all beautiful things that were surrounded by war, it had been destroyed. The majority of the conflict had moved onto the southern side of the city, away from where Tino was based. He sunk down, cleaning and reloading his rifle, until he heard the call going out.

"Minno, Smith, Vainamoinen, Jayce, Popescu. Off-duty." He almost collapsed with relief when he saw their replacements arriving, grim faced already. Tino had been out since the 24th of last month, about a week longer than the fucking commander had been there, so to hear that he was being shipped back was happiness in it's truest form for a soldier like him.

He pulled himself to his feet from his slouched position against the brick wall, rubbing grime from around his eyes while keeping his gaze roving around the area. It would be a pity if he were to be shot now. Though most of the Mugarobe soldiers had moved on now, there was always the possibility of a stray attacking them. Thankfully though, his journey out of the district went uninterrupted by neither soldiers nor their bullets.

When he finally got onto a cargo truck headed back to their base in Draak-Zafi Forra, his exhaustion was nearly overwhelming him. Tino almost collapsed from the effort of climbing into the back of the van, chest heaving and limbs screaming in agony. He was, to his surprise, caught by two pairs of slender arms. He looked up, frowning blearily when unfamiliar faces met his eyes. Two teenagers, with fair skin and black hair.

"Orphaned, I think. Pretty sure they're from the Iramese colony." Another sniper, Kristian, explained, answering his unasked question, "they wanted to join."

Tino nodded in understanding, smiling at them weakly. New recruits were good, and they always needed them. As much as he wanted to present the image of a mentally and emotionally strong soldier right now, he just didn't have the strength to engage anyone in conversation. He slumped against the chair, drawing his loose sand-coloured robes around him as his eyes closed. His last thought before he fell asleep was of the two orphans. But, he thought, Kristian must be wrong. They couldn't be Iramese, the nearest of the minority's colonies was a fair stretch of land away, unless they'd crossed it. But that was unlikely as well, though it wasn't completely unheard of.

But, most compellingly; as far as Tino knew – and he made it his business to know a lot about different cultures – Iramese people didn't have blue eyes.