Chronicles of the Resistance - Caretaker

by IntergalacticFlyingToast

After escaping the Advent mega-city of New Providence, a scientist buys his way into a resistance cell operating within the City-23 Contagion Zone. Hoping to avoid further contact with his former viper creations, the man is thrust into a role that could very well change his outlook on vipers, and force him to face a ghost from his past. (see tags inside)

18. The Coming Storm

Staying Connected:

Curious about what goes on behind the scenes? Join me and other XCOM fanfiction authors in The Viper Pit Discord server: www.*discord.*gg / PBFpc4g (edited link to avoid fanfiction filters)

Chapter Specific Warning(s):

Danger noodle(s), high-cholesterol

Opening Notes:

I'm finally back with another release. Apologies for the wait; this one proved particularly challenging to put together and had to be broken into two parts due to the overall scale. With that said, please enjoy this first part while I continue to work on the second, which will also be released sometime later this month.

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XVIII: The Coming Storm

Terminus: Switchyard Arterial

Oct-19th, 2034, 13:25

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The Captain

"…It's just through here, so don't worry, captain. Also, I know that we managed to find you a set of crutches, but be sure to let me know if you require additional assistance. Oh, and make sure that you watch your—"

"Feldspar!"

The burly man in front of her stopped. He then turned around, bringing his rifle closer to his chest as he shifted his eyes to the slouched officer that trailed behind the rest of their party. A party that now consisted of a handful of her most trusted guards.

"Yes, captain?"

Katarina allowed her blue eyes to cut through the tense air and made sure to layer them with an icy frost. "For the last time, corporal," she grumbled, doing her best to ignore the shots of pain that constantly reminded her of her latest injury. "You can quit it with the damn play-by-plays. At this point, everyone here is well aware as to our destination, and I don't require your assistance. It's just a minor sprain that will take care of itself. Besides, I've been through far worse during my sweeping days."

Her subordinate hesitated, at first appearing to want to challenge her on the matter but shrugging his shoulders in the end. Neglecting to add anything further, Feldspar turned his massive frame around, pushing through the final stretch of tunnels and down into the main artery, which was illuminated by shanty stalls and old-world chandeliers.

Katarina exhaled, taking in the familiar deluge of incense and smoke. She then gazed up at the marble archways that silently supported the underground labyrinth, whose ceiling consisted of a vibrant wave of mosaics and stained glass, the very same that she used to admire as a child while caught between worlds.

Her mind then drifted back to their destination and she swore under her breath, readjusting herself on the same accursed crutches that Feldspar had talked her into using before they set off through the burrows of the switchyard, whose atmosphere of persistent clamor and lively gossip juxtaposed that of the dead air that they'd just experienced on the surface.

Of course, their destination was obvious, and one that she dreaded since they had first left her security ward, nearest the loading docks.

The damn infirmary.

She sighed once more, pulling up a sleeve to silently nurse the burn marks stretched across her arm.

The very thought of stepping into that area always made her skin crawl, even after all these years. Naturally, the things she hated more than heights were damn needles and the pompous assholes who ultimately administered them. However, she had her orders and refused to falter whilst among her men.

Pain was just weakness leaving the body.

Katarina ground her teeth at the faulty notion and then gradually lowered herself down the winding steps, catching cracked cement and a wilted flower at the bottom that forced her to take extra precaution with each labored march. Nevertheless, she managed to shadow her guards like before, and in spite of each inconvenient prick reminding her of the countless blunders that would've left her face-down in some alleyway had the coin come up tails.

Yet here she was, angry and bitter as ever.

The captain allowed her fists to tighten to the point where numbness began to take hold.

While she had officially made it back to the dingy tunnels that she now considered home, her most recent set of mistakes made her feel more and more like a pretender to those whom she originally swore to protect. And worse yet, this time each mistake had dragged a name down with it.

Johnson, Tremblay, Cutter, Simons…and Ramirez.

The woman shuddered at the last name and loosened her grip, knowing that her favorite corporal now lay buried amongst the horde of Lost that they'd encountered on the memorial bridge.

All in an attempt to save someone other than himself.

One of her hands then lowered to the pocket of patches that lay along her armored hip. Ultimately, she would have to hand what was left of him and the others to their loved ones, or at least those who still remained.

Loved.

The five-letter word twisted a decade-old knife deeper into the captain's heart, leaving a void that she had desperately tried to fill over the years, albeit through means that her parents would've regarded in utter disdain.

"Fuck…"

Katarina tried her best to block out another five-letter word that described the trap that she had fallen into thanks to the fallout of her old life. She then began to pull at her closest sleeve in an attempt to hide her marks; however, the din of high-pitched squeals drew her attention forward. Sure enough, a posse of children threaded their way through the pooling crowds that clogged the central artery. They were followed soon after by a girl who struggled to keep up thanks to her baggy clothes.

"Give her back, give her back! Come on, Tommy. She's innocent and hasn't done anything to you. Give her back to me now!"

One of the older boys at the front of the group glanced back, offering the girl a wicked smile before violently pulling against the object in his hands. "She's one of them and deserves to be punished. Maybe if fewer people sympathized with the idea of harboring aliens, we'd still have—"

The boy was cut off as he unwittingly slammed into Feldspar's tree-trunk frame, rebounding into the dirt and losing track of his stolen possession. Meanwhile, the smaller girl managed to catch up and began laying into the supposed thief with her fists. Naturally, none of the other kids appeared willing to step in and stop her attack.

"Halt!" Katarina bellowed after it became apparent that the girl had no intention of letting up.

Thankfully, both parties immediately froze at the voice, and the rebellious expression on the boy's face evaporated once he fully registered who gave the command, along with the fact that her ring of guards had shifted rearward to intercept the commotion. And despite her recent injury and slumped posture, Katarina's stature still worked in her favor as she appraised the grappled pair, immediately noting the striking blue eyes and dusty blond hair of the girl after Feldspar finally managed to hold her comparatively tiny hand in place.

"Captain Fahlström, I didn't mean—" A heartfelt shout interrupted the older boy's plea as the girl slipped through Feldspar's grasp, weaved her opposite fist around his body, and then connected it once more with the boy's face. "Ow, come on! There's no need for that."

"Look at what you did to her! You bandit, you monster, you're no better than the ones you claimed to—mmph!"

"Hush, girl. You'll only make matters worse for yourself if you don't," Feldspar warned after covering her mouth. He then separated the two and faced them toward the captain, who turned her hardened gaze to the ring leader of the group. Despite remaining uninjured, his embarrassment over the unfavorable result of their brawl was now apparent.

Katarina cleared her throat and then adjusted her stance to appear even larger. "Tommy, was it? Care to explain your little game of keep away to me."

One of her lieutenants stepped forward after she motioned to the stolen object on the ground, picking it up and then moving it into the light. One quick glance at its characteristic silhouette and telltale red and white patterns was enough for the woman to ultimately discern what it was, much to her tempered annoyance. Nevertheless, she turned her attention back to the defendant.

"I-I was just doing what I was told and trying to keep us safe from alien sympathizers," Tommy replied, eyeing the cobra plushie with blooming disgust. "We're becoming surrounded by people who care little for the security of Terminus, and they'll let Advent win if things are allowed to continue any further," he continued to rattle off as though he were reading from a script.

The captain tightened her gaze upon noting the boy's dark attire, which featured coverings furnished out of finely woven silk and wrapped in a sheepskin overcoat. A decorative hawk was freshly stitched into its lapel, blue as the untainted sky and whose predatory eyes carried the same conviction as the one who wore it. She took an additional moment to study the boy's features before recognition took hold. And though the thought made her blood boil, she directed her sightlines back to her subordinate.

"Feldspar, release the boy. Tomas here is free to return to the upper ward under armed guard." Katarina nodded to two of her men and then looked back at the boy, who hung his head in shame as he was promptly handed off. "I'll be sure to follow up with his father, who will be quite surprised by his son's decision to slink down to the warrens and concern himself with the likes of its 'deadbeat denizens.'"

The boy lifted his eyes, taking a moment to acknowledge the stark contrast in his attire compared to the rest of the children. "B-but I hate it up there and thought that I could make a difference down here. Please don't tell my father! He'll be furious about my repeated disappearances and…of my new friends."

Katarina furrowed her brow after turning towards the girl, who seemed unconvinced by his declarations, and gave the boy her best attempt at a death glare. "Friends that you actively steal from?"

The boy's eyes widened and he hastily shook his head. "No! I was just—"

"You're an idiot, Tommy," the girl cut in, once again slipping through Feldspar's hold. Her voice still seethed with unspent vitriol as she eyed the patch on the boy's lapel and then looked toward the dirt while holding the wrappings around her wrist. "You told me that you were different, and I trusted you. But you're...just like them, an uncaring, stubborn, ass—"

"Enough!" Katarina paused and then acknowledged the line of children that stood before her. "As for the rest of you, I expect you to be on your best behavior moving forward, otherwise I'm sure that I can think of more productive uses of your time, and all involving some form of hard labor. Now, I suggest that you scatter before I change my mind."

Captain Fahlström's advisement was met with hasty nods and an equally swift departure, leaving only the boy and girl amongst her circle of guards.

"I'm sorry, Zophia. I…just wanted to fit in," Tomas lamented with a wilted demeanor, looking toward the stuffed cobra, whose damaged hood hung limp after repeated battery. "I was doing what I thought was right. You have to believe me."

"I don't, Tommy—not anymore. You've lost my trust, which is a hard thing to fix inside these tunnels. Please, just leave me alone…" the girl replied with her fists clenched, "…before I have to beat even more sense into that hawkish skull of yours."

"No one is laying another hand on anyone else," Katarina cautioned. "At least not while I'm still around." She then turned to her set of guards, noting that her previous shouting had drawn further attention to their position. "Anderson, Weber, escort Tomas safely out of the switchyard while I tend to the girl…" Her blue eyes then matched that of a younger set, "…who I'm sure wouldn't want her recent transgressions being broadcast to the entire district, let alone to the Kazimieras household that she struck in error."

The girl only huffed in response.

With that, her guards moved to direct Tomas toward the exit of the switchyard. However, the boy soon hesitated and pivoted back to face them. "I'll not breathe a word of this to my father. He'll have no reason to retaliate if I don't mention your name. It's…the least I can do after our time spent together. I just hope that you can forgive me…"

"I don't care anymore," the girl retorted, callously. "Just stay the hell away from me and my family!"

Tomas slowly nodded and gave the snake plushie one final downtrodden look before departing alongside his guards. Their forms were soon swallowed up by a horde of bodies shifting amongst the dimly lit passageways. After a brief pause, Katarina lowered herself on her crutches and signaled to her remaining guards, who began to forge a path to the infirmary with snake plushie in tow. She then shifted her attention back to the girl. "Unfortunately, I'm needed elsewhere at this time, but also want to make sure that you'll stay out of trouble once we're gone."

"I'm not in any trouble now?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "That depends on you and your next set of replies."

The girl bobbed her head but allowed her eyes to narrow. "And if I don't care about what you have to say?"

Katarina laughed. "Then I suppose I'll just be keeping that red and white cobra of yours, indefinitely if need be." The woman then set off, doing her best to ignore the displacement of pressure across her ankle and falling in pace with her remaining men once again.

"Wait, don't leave!"

Captain Fahlström looked over her closest shoulder, finding the same girl hastily racing to her side. "Oh? A sudden change of heart? Very well. Zophia, was it? Let's take a quick walk."

"She's a viper, and only if she's safely returned to me," Zophia demanded without a second thought, crossing her arms and sticking her nose straight toward the painted chandeliers above their heads.

Katarina grinned at the display yet chose to continue onward. "You drive a hard bargain; we'll touch back on the matter once we've talked." After a pregnant pause and confirmation that Zophia remained at her side, she regarded the girl's bandaged wrists and the fists responsible for bludgeoning poor Tomas into submission. "Throwing a punch that you're not prepared to take is the surest way of making it your last—you should care."

Zophia scoffed, immediately picking up on the woman's insinuation. "Why should I care if they don't?"

"Because you'll live longer, and stand a better chance of making something of your life. Believe me, I acted similarly while growing up. Also, it's rather unwise to bite the hand that feeds, especially when they're of the unreasonable sort," Katarina muttered.

The girl wrinkled her nose. "If by unreasonable, you mean unsympathetic towards those who may be different from themselves? And they always give with one hand and take away with the other, so why should I hold back if they're the ones that steal from my family and treat the warrens like outsiders?"

Captain Fahlström raised an eyebrow at the sharpened retort. "How old are you, girl?"

Her recipient offered a vain expression. "Old enough to stand my ground when it matters."

Katarina silently nodded. "While true, punching your way through a problem will only work for so long." She then stopped to signal to the guard carrying the large plushie. "Also, when it matters? I'd rather you not lose your life over a poorly-timed punch, and all for something as lowly as a snake—a poorly crafted one at that."

Zophia's expression darkened at the final remark, and her fists retightened. "For the last time, Rosie isn't just some snake, she's a viper, and she's, she's, she's…" The girl faltered as her eyes fell upon its damaged hood, "…she's all I have left of my parents."

Katarina's features softened as they continued onwards, skirting the outermost stalls and eventually being offered more room to maneuver thanks to the diminishing crowds. "I see. How…how long ago did it happen? That is if you wouldn't mind sharing such information with me?"

Zophia observed the woman next to her, appearing to search for any signs of deceit; however, when she found none, the girl forced herself to look toward the nearest alcove.

"About a year ago, though time gets fuzzy when you start to forget what the sun looks like, heh. Father was a handyman and mother tended to the rest. I…remember my father breaking his arm and disappearing for most of the day. Though he eventually returned in the middle of the night, gifting me this plushie before soothing me back to sleep with another tale of the Crimson Serpent—one that he'd heard from another man earlier that day. He said that…Rosie would watch over and protect me from the storm to come."

Zophia sighed, allowing all remaining tension to leave her body as she tore her attention away from the murky passageway that lay before them and back to the serpent, nursing her bandaged wrists once more. All the while, a worn neon sign washed pockets of light across the cold earth and denoted their destination in the distance.

"Once I woke up, both of my parents had disappeared. I…spent most of the day searching for them, but no one knew where they'd gone. And when I finally worked up the courage to approach the guards, they turned up nothing as well. It was as if they had simply vanished from Terminus."

The captain furrowed her brow. "This is the first time that I'm hearing about this specific case. Do you remember the names of the guards that you went to, their general descriptions, or anything that seemed out of place the morning after?"

Zophia's eyes closed but opened soon after, a hopeless look now adorned her face. "Just a smell that I couldn't put into words. Sorry, but that's all I remember before Miss Myrtle took me in and became my primary caretaker, once it was determined that my parents wouldn't be coming back."

"Miss Myrtle?" Katarina repeated, stopping dead in her tracks. Their group now stood before a final reinforced door that would lead out of the switchyard and into the infirmary. Despite her best attempt, the shock in her voice remained far too apparent. However, it soon diminished in favor of a curt laugh as the dots finally connected in her head. "That crazy old bird is still fostering, huh? Well, I suppose that explains the baggy clothes and your covered wrists."

Zophia offered a weak smile. "My parents often 'did business' with her. And she seemed nice enough at the time, agreeing to take me in when no one else offered." Zophia looked down at her attire, which was lined with a patchwork of hobbled stripes. "However, I was eventually required to learn how to knit and sew, so that she could better keep up with demand." Her features then adopted an air of repugnance as her gaze fell even further until it landed on her makeshift splints. "Though, I'm still not very good at it and would probably be better off as a sweeper…"

The edges of Katarina's mouth tugged upwards and she maneuvered a gloved hand onto the girl's shoulder. "Neither was I at the time." Zophia followed the woman's arm toward her face, looking up with growing astonishment. "And I didn't let such shortcomings define who I ultimately wanted to become. However, trust me when I say this, understanding when to act and when to bluff makes all the difference, and such pain will come to pass as long as you're willing to put in the extra—"

"Captain Fahlström?"

The woman frowned at the sudden interruption and shifted her attention toward the baritone voice. Of course, Feldspar ended at its source. "Yes, corporal?"

"Apologies, but we shouldn't keep the major waiting for much longer. You know how he gets once his patience has run dry, especially given present circumstances and the situation surrounding the other vip—" He cut himself off before finishing, gifting Zophia a nervous smile before darting his eyes back to his commanding officer.

Katarina's expression hardened after noting that the usual checkpoint guards had abandoned their post, leaving it up to them to get the final door open. "Very well. Get us access to that passageway while I wrap things up with the girl. The major can wait for just a little bit longer."

"Yes, ma'am."

With the remanence of her guards left to work on the door, Katarina turned her attention back to Zophia and offered her a consultative pat. "As for you, I'd advise heading straight home to your caretaker and thinking about what we've discussed. A seasoned sweeper knows when to pick her battles and when to fall back, and this one is worth lying in the shadows. Regardless, I'll be sure to visit our 'esteemed' seamstress once things…" She stopped to acknowledge the pneumatic hiss and guttural groan of the reinforced door falling inwards, "…are finally put to rest."

The girl's eyes widened once more. "Then something did happen deeper in the tunnels? There are rumors about what occurred after all those scientists left Terminus. Miss Myrtle said not to worry, and that the guards would protect us should anything bad happen." Zophia then looked at the stuffed plushie. "But Rosie and I are willing to bet that the Crimson Serpent was somehow involved—she wouldn't allow for such division in her tunnels."

"Her tunnels?" Katarina couldn't help but smile at the notion. "While you're certainly too smart for your own good, I suggest that you disregard such wild tales and listen to the advice of your caretaker. The matter is being contained and will be nothing but a distant memory soon enough." She then held the red gaze of the stuffed serpent, feeling another flash of hatred as her thoughts drifted back to the knife wedged within her heart—all thanks to that oversized bitch.

Thankfully, the woman managed to escape its coils and get ahold of herself before having to make another frustrating choice, which saw her adversary's likeness be directed back into the waiting arms of its owner. "Here. I'd rather Rose…be safe than in the hands of someone less equipped to do so. I hope that the damage to her wasn't too great."

The girl lifted a thin brow at the slight mismatch in names, but then diverted her attention to the stuffed serpent's injuries, brushing her hand across its obnoxious petals as if the gesture would alleviate its strain. "She's in a sorry state, and Miss Myrtle doesn't much care for her kind, but I'll hopefully be able to mend her hood with some additional needlework." She then readjusted the oversized garment wrapped around the plushie's sinuous frame. "Rosie will also need a new sweater, though I've had a lot less practice with that."

Zophia exhaled, lifting her blue gaze to match those of the captain. "Thank you. I'll…try to do what you said. Though, I'm just so angry all the time, and want things to change."

Katarina removed her hand from the girl's shoulder and repositioned herself on her crutches. "Then find a way to channel that anger into something useful, and become the change that you want for this world, starting with yourself."

The edges of Zophia's lips tugged upwards, and she moved to speak; however, the girl was immediately interrupted by an all too familiar voice. "Captain, we may have a—"

"What is it now, Feldspar? I thought that I told you...to…" The woman's annoyance evaporated upon lifting her eyes to read his facial expression, which was laden with a mixture of fury and uncertainty, "…focus on getting that door open."

Katarina turned to gaze down the narrow passageway, only to find it blocked by half-a-dozen armed personnel, all of which wearing body armor and overcoats burdened with polished ammunition. Each also carried slight pattern variations to the one that Tomas had earlier. The woman swore under her breath as realization hit her like a freight train. She then placed herself between them and the girl.

"Feldspar."

"Ma'am?"

"Change of plans. It would appear that we're not the only ones intending to meet with the major. I now want you to escort Zophia back to her caretaker and then guard their refuge until I radio in an all-clear. Am I understood?"

Feldspar hesitated. The same selfless expression resurfaced, one that reminded her of another man, who now lay split in two and buried in a watery grave. "With all due respect, captain. I'll not stand idle while you and the others are left to deal with—"

"That was a direct order, corporal! Please…" She felt her voice strain as her injury flared up once more and she was forced to catch herself. "Just do as I've asked and nothing further. We'll be fine. However, I'm inclined to take zero chances with the girl, so protect her at all costs while we sort things out with the major."

Feldspar checked his rifle before glancing toward the passageway, whose red glare matched that of the wavering light above their heads. "But that's assuming you'll be able to get to him first," he growled in frustration. However, in the end, the man acknowledged her command as he gently took hold of the girl's hand. "Come along now, the captain has important business to attend to. We'll have you back home and out of harm's way in short order."

The pair then began to move in earnest; however, Zophia dug her heels into the ground and pulled herself toward the captain. "Wait! Please don't let them hurt her."

Katarina responded with a questioning gaze. "Hurt her? I'm not sure that I follow."

"The Crimson Viper," Zophia clarified with refocused resolve. "If the rumors are true, she was just protecting her home like anyone else." The girl then forced Feldspar to let go so that she could point down the hostile corridor. "She's nothing like them and deserves our help. Please don't give those men what they want."

"Oh? And what do you believe they want?"

Zophia tightened her grip on the large plushie and pulled it against her body. "Something that they do not deserve or want to understand."

The woman couldn't help but laugh. "Did you hear that, Feldspar?" She shuffled herself forward and then looked back one final time to showcase a parting smile. "Wise words from a wise girl. I'll be sure to consider your insight as long as you keep that head down and those fists of yours out of trouble. Deal?"

Zophia returned the gesture. "Deal."

Katarina's smile widened. "Good. Now run along with Corporal Feldspar. He'll keep you safe for the time being."

The girl nodded, offering her bandaged hand back to the man, who pulled her close to his armored frame before setting off toward the belly of the switchyard. All the while, a horde of unfriendly gazes extended from the entrance of the infirmary and watched them depart in earnest. The captain exhaled before turning back to bathe herself in their judgment. She then corrected her slouched posture and took note of her remaining guards.

"Williams, Ringer, stay close and be sure to hold your fire unless absolutely necessary. I'd rather not have things turn hot while the major is within earshot. Am I understood?"

After receiving a silent set of remarks, she noted the handgun on her hip and proceeded forward, doing her best to hold a steady stride toward the entrance of the infirmary. Naturally, as they approached its threshold, one of the armed men stepped forward to block their path, and unfortunately, she knew him all too well.

"It would seem that the good captain has called off her mountain," the bearded man began in a chalky voice. He pulled a lighted cigar from his mouth, watching Feldspar's frame finally disappear amongst the crowded stalls. "A real shame; we were looking forward to cutting him down to size." He then relaxed and allowed the cigar to resettle in his mouth, making sure to gnaw at its end and puff billows of smoke through his nostrils as he appraised the rest of their ensemble. "But I suppose we'll have to make do with a crippled captain and her Tweedledee and Tweedledum."

"Bite your tongue, Mikhailov," Williams retorted, allowing anger to seep through his voice. Ringer appeared equally unamused. "You're speaking to a commanding officer, who—"

"Won't do shit as long as we have this place on lockdown." Katarina felt her fists further compress the padded grips on her crutches. "And it's former, commanding officer, or are you too addle-brained from that bout on the surface to remember that I was hired on as a freelancer? Though, I find it particularly interesting that Fahlström would've picked you and Ramirez over someone like—"

"Enough," Katarina interjected, doing her best to block out the remorseful tone in her voice after hearing the second name crest a scornful set of lips and wither in a cloud of white smoke. "We're here to see the major, and I've neither the time nor patience to deal with your bullshit, Mikhailov. So, I suggest that you and your present company step aside before I have to—"

"Do what? Spread those long legs of yours like you did for the poor corporal? No…" The man released another brazen puff straight into her face and gestured to the insignia stitched into his coat, burning fragments of a tapered hawk along with it. "I've had my fill of what the warrens have to offer, officially rising up in the world. Besides, you could learn a thing or two from the women in the upper ward, especially in terms of what they can do with their—"

Mikhailov never had a chance to finish as the woman suddenly propelled herself forward, driving her head straight into his skull and then allowing his unsteady frame to collapse to the ground in a crumpled heap. Though, she neglected to follow it up with her fists, instead finding equilibrium on her crutches. Despite this, her usual weapons of choice remained bloodthirsty and her adrenaline spiked as guns from both sides were quickly raised. Thankfully, no one was stupid enough to fire, leaving the man on the ground to fend for himself as he reeled against the wall in pain.

The ringing in her ears finally ceased, and a ghost of a smirk reemerged on her face. "That's what I thought. Now, for your sake, Mikhailov. I'll consider the sewage that just spewed from your mouth a simple lapse of judgment on your part." The captain then positioned her nearest crutch over the end of his discarded cigar, snuffing out its flame as the fire in her heart extinguished alongside it. "I'd also advise that you cut down on such habits. After all, I'm told that smoking can be detrimental to your health, especially once confined to small spaces."

"You…" The man gazed up, clearing his windpipe as bits of cigar wrapping continued to fall from his stained teeth. "You can't do that! I'm an irregular now and a bodyguard for—"

"I don't give a damn about whom you sold your soul to, sergeant." The captain closed her eyes. "You will learn to respect the fallen, or I will come after you." She reopened them and then directed her attention to the remaining blue coats that lined the edge of the corridor. "As for the rest of you harriers, you're only hurting your cause by being belligerent in my tunnels. Now, I suggest that you assist your fellow warmonger to his feet while also staying the fuck out of my way until the matter with the major is dealt with."

Captain Fahlström shifted her stance and then pushed herself toward the infirmary's threshold. "Williams, Ringer, fall in line. We're behind enough as it is…" she muttered as the warm bodies parted to her cold advance, and their apparent adversaries were left to stew in unfulfilled contempt. Unfortunately, such emotions carried over as Katarina entered the infirmary and immediately registered shouting from an adjacent room. Nevertheless, the woman initially paid it little mind, instead taking a moment to clear the elongated area that stood between them and their objective.

"Lock the door and guard the exit while I address the major. I don't want any of those rabble-rousers having second thoughts and further complicating matters."

With that, the woman continued forward, regarding the twin rows of cots that lined opposing walls, which were bathed in a punishing light and far too many cutaways, all of which made her want to gag. Medical equipment was also scattered everywhere, though she did her best to avoid looking directly at such insidious instruments. And the smell…made her wish that she had lathered herself in an extra layer of perfume. Surprisingly, every bed lay empty, at least the ones that weren't obscured by a cubical curtain.

The burns may heal over time.

Despite her best efforts, the painful memory invaded her thoughts, and the woman relapsed as her body fell into autopilot. The pain in her arm flared up, driving her attention to its source. However, before she was given a chance to take charge of the situation, the wind was knocked out of her and she suddenly found herself stripped bare, surrounded by a hastily erected curtain that folded to the brisk air. Another shot of pain then forced her eyes back to her arm, where broken glass littered an open wound while thoughtless shadows poked and prodded at what remained of her flesh. The screams that she heard from afar soon manifested as her own, and the fire in her lungs burned even brighter as the pain turned into agony, so much so that as the grey bodies began the grafting process, she felt the contents of her stomach empty across the side of her—

"Where is it, Fahlström?"

Katarina immediately regained control of her body, allowing her to trace the unsavory sound of a woman's voice. Sure enough, its origin proved to be one that she dwarfed in comparison. As for the other woman's attire, she wore a silk empire-waist that covered a thick frame, whose blue mosaic also carried golden lining that tapered into sharper edges across its hem and sleeves, almost as if they were supposed to compliment the feathers of a bird, a rather ugly bird at that.

Well, at least not as ugly as its owner.

Nevertheless, the aggressive eyes of her accuser served to cut through the misty trenches of her subconsciousness, and Captain Fahlström fully came to her senses, narrowing her own set as final recognition took hold.

"I'm afraid that you'll have to elaborate."

The portly woman's scowl deepened as she drove a polished talon straight into Katarina's face, though their relative positions made the attempt laughable. "You know damn well what I'm talking about. Where's his insignia? Where are you hiding it, you overgrown bitch?!"

"That's quite enough, Verna," a gruff voice called out in the distance.

Both women turned to acknowledge its owner, who proved to be a particularly large man decorated in urban camouflage, a chevron mustache, and a dark green beret. He currently stood next to a cot on the far side of the room, whose sole occupant lay covered in a blue sheet while medical gauze and surgical tubing covered nearly every square inch of their face. As for the skin left exposed to the air, heavy discoloration and red and white splotches tarnished its integrity. Katarina couldn't help but shudder at the sight, driving her attention away from the gruesome scene and back to the officer in question.

"Such words have no place inside of this room, and Dr. Moreau requires her rest." The man stopped to motion to a set of guards stationed at the entrance of the room. "Now, I suggest that you leave her be, or our time here is finished."

Naturally, the other woman sneered at the warning, choosing instead to storm his position and halting only to continue her blooming tirade. "Leave her be? Leave her be?! Major Rabczewski, my husband is dead, my youngest son is dead, my eldest son is currently bedridden and may never walk again…" She paused to shove another long talon in the captain's direction, "…and it's all thanks to the failings of that warren whore."

The all-too-familiar, five-letter word made Katarina's blood boil once again, and she felt her fists tighten in preparation for a retaliatory strike. Thankfully, her rage diminished as a final voice called out from behind the major, who shifted his muscular frame to reveal a second cot. And despite his recent injury and the added effects of painkillers, its occupant regarded the other woman out of concern.

"Mother?!"

"Be silent, Luis. I don't want you concerning yourself with such matters," the woman fired back. "It's because of her that you're even in this position."

The man frowned. "I'm afraid that…it's a bit too late for that. And I volunteered willingly for the extraction, wanting to rescue Stephan and knowing that there was a chance that I wouldn't be coming back." He then shifted a hazy set of emeralds back to Katarina. "Part of the reason that I'm still alive is that Captain Fahlström took it upon herself to—"

"Attempt to cover up her latest mistake like the dull stone that she is. Of course, such actions only served to bring further ruination upon our family and tarnish its longevity."

Katarina opened her mouth to defend herself but was beaten to the punch by a weary scoff, which now came from her wounded lieutenant. "Would you rather she left me on that bridge…to die at the hands of the Lost? I'm furious, just like you…" He paused to administer a mirthless laugh. "But to stand there and say that it was all for naught…and entirely her fault is—"

"She doesn't care about you or anyone but herself, and recent events have clearly made you too blind to see it. Now hush and allow for those meds to take over." His guardian then regarded the major with a heartless glare. "It was a mistake ever granting that woman a seat at the table. I want her immediately stripped of her title and then hung out to dry like the backwater vagrant that she is."

"Mother, I need you to listen to me for one—"

"I told you to shut your damn mouth and to let me handle this!"

"ENOUGH!" Major Rabczewski roared, silencing the entire room with his powerful voice. After a tenuous pause, he offered the doctor at his side a remorseful pat on the wrist, letting her incomprehensible murmurs die down before gently lowering her hand to the base of the cot. He then turned to face the other women.

"Mrs. Simons, let me be clear. While I can understand your sense of loss, coming in the company of armed men in an attempt to further corner me inside this infirmary, which I continue to visit out of respect for those who put the needs of Terminus before themselves, then making such belligerent claims and going as far as to direct them at your surviving kin, is not a particularly prudent way of dealing with such pain."

Verna's eyes narrowed. "You know nothing of the pain that I'm currently feeling. What have you ever lost that could even remotely compare to this?!"

Major Rabczewski's features darkened. At first, he appeared willing to deliver a punitive remark; however, his expression then softened. "More than you could possibly imagine."

Though his ambiguity initially caught the woman off guard, she soon recovered, taking a moment to appraise the burnt woman at his side. "Then you'll not consider my proposition or concerns in relation to the mad dog and his snake?"

The major offered her a stern look. "Do not misconstrue my words, Verna. Your concerns are warranted, and your family's sacrifice will be honored in a manner most appropriate, but let's not treat personal grudges as cold facts. Provide me with the necessary evidence to support your claims, and I'll gladly take action. However, for now, I'd advise taking this time to be with your surviving—"

"And the testimonies of those who were present at the time aren't enough?"

The man raised a white brow. "We've been over this, the only ones in the containment cell at the time of the attack were the viper, your husband, and Dr. Moreau, who's unable to speak on the matter due to the extent of her injuries." His gaze then drifted Katarina's way. "Nevertheless, an inquiry into the matter has been launched, and given enough time, I'm sure that—"

"I no longer have any interest in an inquiry; I want immediate justice for the dismemberment of my family. Why is this so hard for you to understand?"

"Mother, I need you to stop…and listen to me."

"Hush, boy," Rabczewski interjected, lowering his gravelly voice as the woman beside him shuddered in response. "Do yourself a favor and let your mother walk her own path." He then directed it back to the grieving widow. "Again, I empathize with your position, Verna, but such a choice is not yours to make. That viper—"

"Deserves nothing but scorn for what it did to my husband. Every day that it's allowed to draw breath is an insult to our family's legacy. Give me what I want and you'll no longer have an issue with our family."

The major released a heavy sigh. He then looked up to a nearby cabinet, which housed a long band of medical vials, all of which stemmed from one particular source. He silently mulled over his options and then turned his attention their way. "While I have no love for the serpent, at this moment in time, I cannot give you what you want, at least not until all respected parties have delivered their input on the matter."

Verna's features had since dissolved into utter contempt. "A pillar crushed my husband to death." She gestured toward the woman in the first cot. "And the only rationale behind Dr. Moreau's injuries would be a cloud of venom. What other evidence do you need to condemn that abomination?"

"Things are never that simple."

"Things are that simple! Yet for some reason, I'm the only one in this enfeebled hive that's willing to discern man from monster." While her shouting caused the injured doctor to enter into another fitful frenzy, the woman carried onward as she spun on her heels and began to make her way to the opposite end of the room. "What a fool I was to think that anything would ever come of this meeting!"

After making it halfway, she pivoted back to face the major.

"Allow me to be clear, Rabczewski. If you will not give me what I want, I will continue to look elsewhere until that abhorrent creature's head is paraded through the streets, and the legends surrounding it are finally buried beneath the earth. So, I strongly suggest that you reconsider my proposal before the ensuing storm comes to pass and it's too late to change course."

Rabczewski moved to address the woman at his side, offering her an additional dosage of meds that worked to ease her tremors, which soon ceased alongside her muffled protests. "Shhh…find peace. Your colleagues will return shortly, this pain is only temporary, and you will recover with rest." As the doctor's eyes closed, the major raised himself to full height, adopting a more frigid tone. "Is that a threat, Verna?"

The woman laughed. "More like a promise." She then eyed the white eagle decorated on his beret. "You've gone soft, Wojciech. If only Anastazja was still around to see how far you've fallen. Though, perhaps it's for the best, given the way you—"

"We're officially done here," the major growled as his usual stalwart composure evaporated. "I've offered you what I can, but clearly such courtesy isn't enough." He then motioned to sentries at the door. "Please direct Mrs. Simons back to the entrance of the infirmary so that she may rejoin her personal detail. She'll get another opportunity to visit her son once I've had a chance to discuss matters with Captain Fahlström and Dr. Hoffman."

Verna scowled at the names, though she was immediately reminded of Katarina's looming presence as she turned around. And despite her initial intent on leaving the room of her own volition, the taller woman continued to block her path. "That's your order to move, dull stone." Katarina's nostrils flared at the insult, though she chose to remain silent as the two stood in gridlock. "Or has the surface finally made you a cripple and taken what little semblance of decency that you had left?"

"Captain Fahlström."

Katarina glanced up. "Yes, major?"

Major Rabczewski's features remained stern. "Let her pass, captain."

She looked back down, taking in the other woman's features and noting the insignia embordered into her dress. While she wanted nothing more than to rip the accursed thing from her chest, her rage slowly dismissed and allowed her to step aside.

"Very well."

The woman rewarded her with another conceited smirk before continuing onward. However, before she had the chance to make it to the threshold, Katarina adopted a grin of her own and opened her mouth.

"But aren't you forgetting something?"

Verna turned back, lifting her nose up at the question. "No, I don't believe so."

Her expression sharpened even further. "Care to try again? Because I can think of at least two things."

The woman adopted another one of her signature glares. "I'll not play games with the likes of you, so say what you mean to say, and stop wasting my time."

Katarina shifted her eyes to her wounded lieutenant, who had fought by her side, despite the circumstances surrounding his situation and later extraction. And while the notion of speaking of the fact pained her, she now thought it prudent to speak her mind.

"How about an acknowledgment for Luis before your departure, and taking home Stephan's patch? Both deserve to be honored for their service over the last twenty-four hours, and I'd rather their mother not leave this room emptyhanded."

The mother's gaze turned downright deadly. "The apple of my eye is now dead, and this is your response to me? An insignia that denotes the very labor that led to his death. To be frank, I'd sooner burn the patch than keep it as a memento. Furthermore, it's now tainted with the stench of the woman who should've died in his stead."

Katarina ignored the last comment and instead focused on the first. "That's a hell of a thing for a mother to say in front of her son. And disrespectful to the one who wore it out of pride."

Verna's face flushed red with fury, and she was immediately in the captain's face. "You know nothing about our relationship and don't get to judge me. Not while you whore about and carry an air of favoritism with your men!"

Instead of diminishing, the captain's smile widened at the thought. "So, you're enraged more by the fact that I willingly held onto it? That I don't perfectly fit inside of the little box that you try so desperately to claim ownership over? Admit it, you're just another heartless banshee who's unwilling to see the forest from the trees, and hates the notion that I'm actually capable of feeling empathy towards those under my—"

Katarina never got a chance to finish. Instead, the woman before her cried out in anger, slashing upward with a set of polished claws. Luckily, their height discrepancy only allowed the harrier to reach the underside of the captain's chin. And while Verna managed to land the blow that she was looking for, the very act of lashing out left her short of breath as she reveled in her boiled-over hysteria.

"I want…his patch…out of your hands. Now, give it to me!"

Instead of simply complying, Katarina moved her closest hand up to her chin, finding warm blood trickling from an elongated wound. Her fist then closed, but she made no move to retaliate and allowed her smile to return. "I would if I hadn't already given it back to your eldest out of respect. If you truly want it, you'll have to consult with him."

Both women turned their attention to the second cot, where Lieutenant Simons now sat in silence. The combined effects of exhaustion, heightened levels of stress, and his latest dose of painkillers appeared to have finally taken their toll. His mother then traced her eyes back to Katarina.

"You stay the hell away from my son. If I so much as catch a whiff of that dreadful perfume of yours while in his presence, you'll be wishing that the Lost finished you off like they did my youngest." A gloved hand belonging to one of the guards then fell to the woman's shoulder, pivoting her around and slowly guiding her to the door—a silent command had finally been given. Nevertheless, she continued unabated. "I don't care what the warrens may think, because underneath that pretty veil is a vile monster deserving of nothing but reproach!"

"Try looking in a mirror…" Katarina murmured through the incessant jabber, wiping away an additional coating of red that had come to decorate her chin. "You'd be surprised by what you find."

"You think that you're different, but you're no better than the fucking alien that killed my husband. So help me, I will get the retribution that my family deserves, even if I have to purge everyone who stands in my—" The gloved hand transferred to the woman's mouth, silencing her emotional outburst and allowing the major to speak once again.

"You've poured your heart out and said what you've wanted to say. However, it's time for you to leave, Verna. I'll follow up with you and the wardens in the coming days, once we've had the chance to piece everything together. Until then, I'd refrain from further outpourings. Given the circumstance surrounding your family, I've chosen to be merciful thus far. But if you lay another hand on one of my guards…" He gestured Katarina's way, "I'll not hesitate when it comes to turning you over to its captain. So, have we reached an understanding?"

While the guard's hand soon retreated from the woman's mouth, her response came in form of a malevolent glare, directed squarely at the captain who would ultimately be responsible for bringing her in. She then took a moment to pugnaciously fiddle with her dress before storming out of the room, failing to acknowledge the major entirely.

With the woman rightfully gone and both patients asleep, a prolonged silence was then left to occupy the room. Though, it soon ended in a gruff sigh as the major moved to place himself in a nearby chair, which cried out in response to his sizable bulk but remained steadfast despite his worsening posture. He then turned his attention her way.

"You should've kept such thoughts to yourself, Fahlström. The situation involving her family and the serpent is delicate enough as it is. And while the warrens remain under guard, the upper ward has grown bold over the past few months."

Katarina sighed. "Apologies, I don't know what came over me, sir. But I felt pressed to say something and couldn't stand the way that she talked to her son."

"And...so you did. But if she truly means what she says, Verna could spark further unrest between the districts." The major offered her a tired expression. "I knew it was a mistake allowing that boy to venture out as a sweeper."

The woman furrowed her brow. "I was the same age when I first took to the streets, and it's what he ultimately wanted. To walk in the same footsteps as his brother, despite constant pushback from his mother. Cutter also seemed willing at the time to train the boy, though I could never quite tell when he was bullshiting me. He always did like the prospect of promotions…"

Rabczewski ran a calloused hand across his face, catching his mustache on the way down. "Nevertheless, what's done is done. Though I expect nothing will come of it, we'll need to be extra mindful about whom she brings to the table moving forward." He then stood up, forcing her attention skyward. "Walk with me, captain. There's an attached lab nearby, and I'd prefer that our next conversation be moved to a more private setting."

[—]

---

The Pilot

[ Is it ready yet? ]

"No. Not yet, Rose. Though, I'm sure that it won't be much longer, so please continue setting the table for us."

[ But I've already set everything up, and we're getting hungry. How much longer? ]

"Not long, girl. Remember, good things come to those who wait."

[ That's a stupid saying. It should be: good things come to humans that make burgers faster! ]

Rooker tore his eyes off the crimson hands and focused on the task at hand. The man muttered incoherently to himself as he adjusted the temperature of the industrial charbroiler that he'd stolen during one of his early supply runs. Despite the giant viper's persistence, he couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of the poor employee left to explain to his manager how their Toastmaster-TM20K had mysteriously disappeared into the night.

He shifted his attention back to the mountain of ground beef that lay before him, one that he'd recently reformed into a giant patty, spanned nearly two feet in diameter, and would fit perfectly inside the scaled hand of his rather impatient consumer. Rooker then glanced down at a mechanical kitchen timer, which came as a package deal and was also designed to look like an Advent burger.

Sure enough, his alarm then went off, letting the man know that it was time to flip sides. However, before attempting such a feat, he paused to adjust his grilling apron, which had Cuddle the Cook painted in frilly letters across it, along with a flamboyant patch of flowers. A human male and waist-high serpent were also situated below the phrase, with the latter coiled around the former's leg as he prepared their food.

Of course, the viper responsible for creating such an adorable display had made sure that he was properly dressed for his latest endeavor, letting him throw on a white undershirt. He was even permitted to change into another pair of swim trunks, though his new ones were dotted with smiling sea turtles and tropical coconuts. Rose had also changed, wrapping her upper torso in another blanket the size of a tarp, allowing the woman to preserve her modesty while the two prepared for lunch.

With his apron adjusted, Rooker grabbed hold of a flat shovel, taking another moment to widen his stance and bend his knees. "This is where you separate the men from the boys," he joked before driving the large shovel underneath the slab of meat and carefully flipping it over. After achieving success, he twirled his trusty grilling tool around in his hand before stowing it with the rest and resetting the timer.

"Nothing to it."

His ensuing victory dance earned him a round of womanly giggles from afar, though he refused to gauge Rose's facial expression as he felt his cheeks warm out of embarrassment. Luckily, the other, more human-sized burgers occupying the entirety of a second charbroiler served as an adequate distraction while his coloration returned to normal. He then thought back to their method of delivery.

In the end, Katarina had proved merciful, upholding her side of the bargain, which included all the necessary ingredients for the feast that would soon lay before them. While he'd lost a couple of pallets out of the deal, they would still have more than enough contraband to sate Rose's hunger, at least for a time. He then noted the communicator that lay close by, still curious as to why he'd yet to be called upon, but figuring that this allowed him extra time with his favorite serpent. With all grilling matters fully tended to, he pivoted on his feet to face his ward.

Of course, Rose had been a particularly good noodle by agreeing to set the massive table, which was located along the perimeter of the makeshift pavilion that he'd constructed for her benefit. In fact, the eating area lay just to the left of the temple courtyard, giving the serpent ample space to maneuver herself against its steady incline. As for Rose, she currently rested her enormous body within a trench of pillows, positioning her torso to sit relatively level with the full ensemble of cobra plushies.

As for the order, Rose's brothers and sisters sat from smallest to tallest. A flowery nametag, which was held in place by an oversized wire table holder, denoted each assigned spot and accompanied platter, with Rooker, or Onion Knight, being granted the highest honor of being situated next to Julius Squeezer and Fangus Khan.

Naturally, there existed three additional roles: Pickle Inspector, Onion Inspector, and the one reserved for the viper herself. Rose made sure to doodle a frowny face on the second, further delineating her eternal struggle against the 'stupid onions.' Although, David had apparently enjoyed them prior to his untimely demise. And while he knew that this was her way of pawning them off to someone else, in the end, it was up to her onion knight (him) to shovel them down for her.

Rooker took his eyes off his designated onion platter and shifted them to the viper in question. Luckily, she'd returned to scribbling on her preferred scratchpad, although their relative positions obscured his vision of her latest doodle. Not wanting to break her concentration, he followed the contours of her red and white torso, which remained refined despite her gobbling up all manner of greasy food over the years. He then traced his gaze down her toned midsection and toward a powerful tail, which she now steadily shifted up and down the incline of the pavilion, rocking its foundation occasionally as she continued on with her drawing.

While Rose's slowed metabolism made it so that she only had to eat on occasion, it was difficult to find her adequate clothing and pool together the necessary resources for when she did eat. After all, she was by far the largest woman that he'd ever laid eyes on, and the thickest section of her tail now stood taller than some humans. And despite the lightheartedness of their most recent game, the thought of her growing even larger terrified him.

Ultimately, what would she think of her little caretaker should he fail, and she came to double or even triple in size?

He then imagined standing next to a tail whose size matched that of her current height and shivered. More of an insignificant pest, surely.

At the moment, Rose would sooner use her tail to ferry a city to calmer waters than let it drown out of coldhearted indifference. However, her latest episodes filled him with a newfound sense of dread, which made him almost want to treat her as something else entirely. And though such a voice remained proportionally small, its murmurs only grew alongside her.

The man then recalled their awkward display at the edge of the water basin, daring another strong emotion to surface, one that he hated himself for feeling. Because despite their calm resolution, the storm that racked his soul only continued to build momentum and threatened to tarnish the life that he wanted for her. Rooker quickly closed his mind to such thoughts and then looked back at the viper.

After reaching the tip of the giant's tail, Rooker gazed all the way back up to a reptilian face, one that he'd judged so carelessly and callously in the past. However, upon further inspection, he also found a forked tongue sticking out across the side of her maw, followed closely by a steady cadence of gentle coos. The massive alien then began to bob up and down on her tail, creating small tremors as her hood fluttered in budding excitement.

However, her genuine smile washed away any feeling of dissociation. After all, she was his Rose, and he had made her a promise that he would carry out until the very end. The man then matched the woman's smile and cleared his throat.

"What're you drawing over there, Rose?"

The viper's hood responded mid-flutter, stopping suddenly and then violently shooting outward. Her sail reached its maximum extent in short order, hoping to ward off the impending danger as Rose's eyes also exploded in size. She then stumbled backwards into the pit of pillows that lay behind her while making sure to flail her arms, taking one of the pavilion's support beams with her. Rose's embarrassment was made complete as she righted herself and slowly peeked over the edge of the table with jittery hands.

While she prepared a response, both parties were left to watch as the structure above them creaked, listed lazily to the side, and then came to a final resting place against the side of the rockface that supported the observation wing. Once the dust settled, Rose's muzzle tightened even further until an apologetic whine escaped its hold.

[ Hehe, I must've lost my footing... ]

The serpent's hood lowered even further as Rooker raised an eyebrow, glancing over to the great heaps of tail that lay strewed about. Rose followed his gaze and then tried her best to hide it, somehow managing to leave only its red tip showing against a padded mound of pillows. However, her expression soon morphed into one of bewilderment as he began to laugh hysterically, nearly falling over himself in the process. Eventually, the pilot regained control of his breathing, turning his attention back to his thoroughly embarrassed ward.

"All I see is a giant toe, girl." He brought a hand to his chin. "Which I suppose would be rather difficult to balance on in the first place."

Naturally, his response earned him another powerful whine.

"Hey, hey, there's no need to be so concerned. I like you just the way you are. Also, we'll tend to the pavilion once I get the chance to fix the plumbing in the observation wing." Rooker thought back to Adrian's fifty-caliber mistake before attempting to distract himself with Rose's drawing. "Nevertheless, I'm still curious as to what you've been sketching since I first started prepping for lunch."

Rose's red eyes slowly shifted from him to the doodle.

[ Oh! Uhm, I was in fact drawing…something. Yes! But it's something that you'd be wasting your precious human eyesight over. And we wouldn't want that, would we? ]

"Interesting…" Rooker rubbed his bearded chin in an effort to draw out his response. "Thankfully, I should have sufficient human eyesight in reserve." He then motioned to the stuffed animals seated at the table. "With that said, would you mind sharing what you've drawn with the rest of the class?"

The reptilian eyes darted down the line of plushies and then rapidly bounced between him and Julius, who leveled the same soul-penetrating gaze that he'd given Rooker while out in the field. Rose responded with an anxious smile and another heartfelt whine.

[ Uhh…I'm not sure that that's a good idea, Rooker. It's not a particularly good drawing anyways. And I'd rather not have a repeat of last time… ]

"Last time?"

Rooker thought back to the previous time that Rose had shown him one of her sketches. Admittedly, it had been a while, and she'd become quite selective over the past few months, only really showcasing ones from a specific pad. In fact, the ones selected for his viewing pleasure almost always involved some form of scenery, with Rose grilling him about which backdrop he thought looked best. As for an answer, he typically picked lush forests, green pastures, and sandy beaches because they reminded him of home and what he wanted her to eventually experience firsthand. However, their last interaction on the topic didn't really explain why she was being so hesitant this time around.

The caretaker then recalled the sketchpads that she had tried to hide from him upon his return from the surface.

In fact, during the fallout of her last episode, Rose stated that she had faced rejection after building Adrian a pillow fortress and showing him some of her artwork. Ultimately, Adrian had chosen to depart alongside Hoffman, leaving Rose to fend for herself inside her home. And while the thought of Adrian's rejection still filled him with unresolved spite, the poisonous attitude had only further hurt their chances of helping Rose.

Rooker exhaled, forcing another round of thoughts to the deepest trenches of his mind as he lifted his eyes to address an apprehensive ward.

"That's a bunch of nonsense, Rose. You're the best artist I know. And even if you weren't, I'd still cherish everything that you'd show me. With that said, I'm confident that this one will prove to be just as beautiful."

The viper's eyes once again darted down to the drawing. While her muzzle tightened to its fullest extent, his response failed to remove her wilted expression. Rose also made sure to nurse her closest wrist, swaying her hips side-to-side as her tail bounced back and forth. The clawed hands then lifted.

[ B-but it's not very good. So, I think it's best if we just— ]

The kitchen timer sounded behind him, tapering the viper's response. However, the anxious cloud above her head evaporated as a result, being replaced by a heavy purr as the giant serpent promptly positioned herself back into her seat.

[ Eat burgers instead! ]

She then cleared the space in front of her, hiding the sketchpad in her thick tail while also picking up a matching red and white bib, which she hastily fastened around her long neck. Once situated, she began to wiggle her haunches as a fresh wave of excitement flooded her system with the rest of her tail closely following suit.

[ Onion knight, your crimson dragoness beckons thee to bring forth her delicious hoard! So, uh…make haste before it becomes overdone. ]

The knight lifted an eyebrow at the impatient dragoness before turning to note the coloration of the giant patty. Sure enough, it was exactly how Rose liked it. However, instead of simply giving in to the serpent's will, Rooker positioned himself in front of the charbroiler and adopted a smug expression.

[ Uhm, tiny knight…have thee gone blind again? ]

"Nay, hungry beast! My special eyes are more than adequate. However, per uh…onion tradition, the household served must first exchange something of equal value, and thy exquisite artwork should suffice, lest thy greasy hoard be put to the eternal flame!"

The dragoness froze in place, at first offering an annoyed gaze at the continued mention of onions, but it quickly morphed into one of dismay as she registered his imprudent demands.

[ That's a stupid tradition, and I've already bested thee in a challenge! Furthermore, to go against thy word would bring dishonor onto thee, thy entire onion household, and quite possibly even thy cow. ]

The knight shrugged his shoulders at her final remark. "Considering thee're about to eat my cow, I'd say such dishonor would simply be transferred onto thee." His reply earned him an endearing whimper as Rose traced her eyes from him to the giant patty, whose coloration continued to turn against her. "Otherwise, this knight could further fan the flames, adding additional pigmentation to thy—"

[ Wait! ]

The serpent offered the man a glimpse of her sketchpad before covering it in another protective wall of scales.

[ I shall give thee what thee want, tiny knight. However, thee must first diminish thy incessant flame and rescue my delicious hoard. ]

Rooker nodded, stepping aside to reveal that the heat had already been turned down. "Thy long-awaited burger was never in any real danger, honorable dragoness. For this knight is a man of his word and would never dream of tarnishing such a well-traveled delicacy."

Rose perked up at the gesture, releasing another round of happy tail wiggles. However, she then noted the sketchpad in her grasp and lowered her hood in response.

[ But do I have to, Rooker? It's…not my best work, really. ]

Her caretaker smiled. "Of course not, Rose. However, it would bring me joy." He stopped to acknowledge the crude artwork painted across his apron. "As I said, I cherish everything you've drawn for me, even the ones that you drew when first starting out. And frankly, it hurts me to think that you'd ever sell yourself short or be embarrassed by such gifts."

The edges of Rose's mouth lifted, and her hood sprang back to life.

[ I uhm, well…I suppose. But you better promise not to laugh! Otherwise, I'll hold you down and force you to eat all of your onions first. ]

Rooker feigned a sense of dread at the threat. "Surely, a fate worse than death!" However, he then placed a hand across his heart and moved his attention back to the charbroiler. "Tell you what, I'll work on putting the finishing touches on the burgers while you get your art exhibit set up. I'll even let you throw in some additional edits if you so desire." He then addressed his ward directly. "Do we have ourselves a deal?"

The smallest of smiles formed on the viper's face.

[ Deal. ]

Rooker matched her expression and then got back to work, pulling out a sizable sesame seed bun, which had been freshly thawed out and adequately toasted. After clearing enough space for construction, he carefully married the patty onto the bun with the aid of his shovel. Next came a small mountain of melted cheese, Advent-approved bacon, lettuce, and tomato. He made sure to leave sliced onion out of the equation for fear of never hearing the end of it. The man then pulled out a container of sauce, which originated from a recipe passed on by his father. And while the thought of his demise still pained him, Rooker couldn't help but smile at his method of promoting 'commonwealth between species.'

He was sure that Rose's taste buds would agree.

After painting the inside of the second bun with a long-stemmed rose, Rooker flipped it over and completed his masterpiece, which he heaved into his arms and then ambled his way toward the table. Upon arrival, he placed the heavy platter down, inching it to a spot aptly placarded as Burger Inspector. A red rose and accompanying smiley face also decorated its surface. Rooker then prepared his own burger (with onion) and found his seat, noting that the extra-large sketchpad was now fully propped up behind a gaggle of plushies. As for the giant viper, she now appeared to be too caught up with whatever was happening on the other side, frantically scribbling away and failing to register her food.

Rooker cleared his throat. "Hey, Rose. Lunch is ready."

[ One second. ]

Her caretaker lifted a brow but chose to remain silent as the scribbling resumed at an even greater rate. However, the seconds quickly added up to a minute, and Rooker turned to gauge his neighbor's reaction. Sadly, Fangus only offered him a blank expression—typical. Luckily, a pair of shadows soon fell overhead, calling his attention skyward as a pair of claws danced through the air.

[ I'm…actually going to need your help. So, please stand up for me. ]

"Stand up?" Rooker repeated, failing to hide the sudden uncertainty in his voice. "Uhm, sure thing, Rose."

The man slowly worked his way back to his feet, readjusting his grilling apron before moving to face her.

[ Great. I need you to now step back about ten or so paces. ]

"Sounds good." Rooker again did as he was told, finding himself back in front of the charbroiler.

[ Now, please turn around and pick up your weap—I mean shovel thingy. ]

"Okay…" He grabbed hold of the flat shovel and turned back. "Now what?"

[ Stand the other way, but lift it above your head and pivot a little more to face me. ]

"Uhhhhh…"

[ Less mumbling and more shoveling! ]

"Yes, ma'am!" he rattled off with a stupid grin, making sure to salute the reptilian artist before fulfilling her request. Of course, such tomfoolery took an immediate effect as the serpent's muzzle tightened.

[ G-good. Now, uhm, hold still please while I make some final adjustments. ]

Rose then returned to scribbling, trying her best to mask a heated snout behind the makeshift canvas, which left a crown of red petals to sprout from its interior, vibrating slightly as they caught wind of her anticipation. However, unfortunately for Rooker, Rose's final request left him in an awkward pose, which soon reminded him of his morning endeavors and the fact that his muscles still hadn't fully recovered. To make matters worse, a red set of eyes began to periodically peek over the canvas, silently judging his steadily worsening posture.

[ Hold still. ]

"I'm trying my best, girl."

[ Well, please try harder. ]

The man grumbled at her persistence but held his position. However, muscle soreness was soon coupled with blooming impatience.

"Is it ready yet?"

[ No. Not yet. ]

"Okay, but how much longer? After all, I don't want our food getting—"

[ Patience, human. I just have to fix one more thing. ]

"But can I at least scratch my—"

[ Hush! ]

"Okay…"

Thankfully, it didn't take long for her last round of corrections to cease. Rose's red eyes then lifted from the canvas and fell his way, a light blush still decorating her features.

[ I believe that should do. You may return to your seat now. ]

Rooker released his breath, nearly falling over a second time as his muscles relaxed and he leaned over to return the shovel. The caretaker then made his way back to his assigned seat, turning his gaze back up to the artist. However, Rose froze in place upon realizing what would happen next, and her petals slowly drooped.

[ But like I said early, it's not my best work. So, please judge accordingly. ]

He offered her a warm smile and then looked at the canvas. "I'm sure that it'll be fine, girl. Now, let's see what you've drawn."

Rose's hood fluttered slightly, and she made sure to release one final murmur before grabbing hold of the sketchpad with a hesitant set of claws. Nevertheless, the other side was soon revealed to Rooker, who noted the way in which its owner closed her eyes in anticipation. He then focused all of his attention on her drawing.

Rooker immediately registered the yawning green fields marked with tall grass, tamed only by stray patches of trees and a shallow brown fence. Said fence stretched off into the distance and then winded itself around a barn, which was constructed out of wood and stone. A blue sky capped a grouping of rolling hills, which pulled his attention down to an extended tail that worked itself into the foreground.

As the man continued onward, the tail steadily grew larger and larger until it came to dwarf a herd of cows grazing close by, which were also sectioned off from the rest of the pasture. Still, the red tail grew as it folded around itself and then began to travel upwards, becoming a scaly torso covered in a hastily constructed garment, which served to secure a modest set of breasts. However, Rooker didn't allow his eyes to linger any further as he continued upwards, quickly confronted by a red gaze and a fanged smile. Upon zooming outwards, he fully registered the depiction of the serpent who now sat before him. Although, here she appeared to be even larger, so much so that a couple of confused cows now found themselves stranded atop her thickest section of tail while another was carefully tucked between her arm and chest, almost as if they were meant to be stuffed animals.

While Rose retained her petaled crown, she was now also sporting a regal set of horns. Thin lines of smoke also trailed from her nostrils; however, the expression on her face was one of overwhelming joy. As for why, the answer lay within her outstretched hands—an uncommonly large burger, offered to her by a knight who'd stationed himself well within her statuesque shadow, alongside a cart that overflowed with meat and potted shrubbery.

As for the knight, his banner depicted that of a lowborn onion, his armor scavenged from those who'd fallen to his borrowed sword, which…Rooker smirked as he noted the oversized spade being lifted to the heavens, all in commitment to feeding a pleased serpent who'd apparently invaded the kingdom of man.

However, Rooker soon noted another pair of shadows loom overhead. He then looked back to Rose, who began fidgeting in place and felt pressed to address her artwork.

[ As I said, it's a stupid drawing. I-I just couldn't stop thinking about the game we played earlier. And I really like the concept of knights and dragons and got distracted while watching you prepare lunch, daydreaming again like a stupid girl who imagines herself as a powerful dragoness who places things on her tail not out of anxiousness but out of confidence… ]

"It's beautiful, Rose."

[ …but is also a gentle soul on the inside, who likes flowers, burgers, holding hands, saving Christmas from deep, languid-voiced Germans, and also yearns for—wait. ]

The prominent petals lining Rose's hood stood up, and her eyes widened.

[ Wha-what did you just say? ]

Rooker's smile warmed even further. "The drawing is beautiful, just like its creator." He then looked back at the pasture scene, silently admiring the viper's handiwork while she released a string of soft coos. "With your permission, girl, I'd like to frame it with the others. Of course, we'll do so once we're done eating."

[ Uhm, well… ]

The serpent tapped her claws as she became lost in thought and began to shift in place.

[ I suppose that would work. Though, I'd like to spend more time on it first. I mean, if that's okay? Maybe add some additional color and detail to it as well? ]

"That'd be great. Although, your attention to detail is already something…" the man trailed off as his eyes settled back on the depicted knight, or more specifically his lower half, which currently sported a muscular pair of thighs and a set of glutes that traveling bards would no doubt sing songs about. "…to be…" he continued, looking down at his own ass, "…proud of."

Rooker then shifted his gaze back up to the nervous viper, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious as he was readily reminded of her requested pose. "Though, is…is my posterior really that big?"

[ Mmmm. Yes, it's most certainly— ]

Rose's snout reignited as she seemed to catch herself, looking at him and then her drawing in quick succession. After releasing a high-pitched whine, her next block of signs proved unstable as his question sent her flutters into overdrive.

[ Wait! I meant to say that it uh…uh…uh…remains adequate and complementary to your selected attire. Yes! And uhm, despite being quite round and shapely—no. Healthy! Yes, that's definitely the word I was looking for, not those other ones. Yes, it's quite healthy for a human male of your uhm, stature, which is very respectable, especially when compared to mine! ]

Rose then lifted herself from her seat, pivoting briefly in place to showcase her hindquarters.

[ See? A very respectable posterior and likely fits through most doorways, heh. Though, uh…you would probably know more about that than me because I don't take notice of those sorts of things and have been confined to this room for most of my life, but that's beside the point! Anyways, yeah…healthy, and most certainly not shapely to the point where it draws the eye! ]

The giant viper had since returned to her place at the table and closed her eyes, apparently too afraid to look at him directly while she continued to pour out her answer, which again dissolved into a whirlwind of signs that he couldn't readily decipher. Regardless, it didn't take long for Rose to run out of steam, and for a hesitant eye to reopen to make sure that Rooker hadn't stood up and abandoned its owner.

[ Sorry… ]

The man rewarded the woman's honesty with a smile, knowing that her answer came straight from the heart, unlike the cold one that Kat had offered him before their relationship fell apart. "So, in your eyes, it's adequate?"

Rose hesitated, risking another glance at her artwork before matching his expression.

[ Yes? I mean, yes. Please understand, Rooker. I draw what I see, and your posterior is adequate, more than adequate if I'm being completely honest. ]

Rooker offered a chuckle at her sudden spike in confidence and the way in which her muzzle shifted after the tacked-on admission. He then outstretched an arm, calling attention to the knight in her drawing. "Well, then let it officially be known, dragoness. Thy onion knight has an adequate posterior. Though do carry such knowledge with the utmost care, otherwise, he'll start to hide onions in thy burgers."

The serpent narrowed her eyes.

[ He wouldn't dare. ]

Her caretaker laughed again. "You're absolutely right. After all, he cares about those taste buds of yours and would never do anything to disturb them." He then noted the pair of burgers that lay between them—a tiny one for him and a giant one for her. "Oh, and thanks for sharing your artwork and…giving me an honest answer. Such a thing is hard to come by these days, at least on the outside." He then gave her a disarming smile, one that he hoped would distract her from his own inadequacies and previous statement. "Anyways, I wager that we've waited long enough. So, let's dig in while our food is still hot."

Rose looked down as well, allowing her hood to vibrate and then biting her lip as though she had more to say on the matter. However, an early inspection of her burger made her reconsider, and the edges of her lips lifted into a genuine smile, one that he missed seeing on a regular basis. Another strong emotion then stirred within him; however, the man made sure to shackle it to the darkest depths of his subconsciousness, choosing instead to watch as a set of claws reposition themselves to address him.

[ I can't remember the last time that I had an Advent burger. And while I know my otherworldly size can often be a burden… ]

Rooker moved to speak but his attempt was immediately shot down by a raised hand.

[ ...it means the world to me, knowing that you still do your best to continue to satisfy such needs. Also, your burger construction skills are impeccable. ]

Rose released a deep purr, which kickstarted a growing wave of jubilant tail waggles. Despite her best efforts, the honorary burger inspector then began to bounce around in her seat.

[ Even still, you've somehow managed to outdo yourself this time around. Thanks, Rooker. I'll be sure to savor this as though it were the original Number Eight that I first experienced aboard your ship. ]

Rose's hands then descended toward the burger, taking an additional moment to bask in its cholesterol-induced glory before lifting it with ease. She then proceeded to sample the air around it with her forked tongue, pulling back and wetting both sides of her maw once she confirmed that onions were nowhere to be found. While she more or less trusted him in the present, an early slip-up in their relationship made for an unhappy neonate, who was then left to consume her body weight in white bread in the hopes of cleansing her palate from the terrible taste that she would soon associate with the dreaded onion.

Her caretaker chuckled at the memory and then made an attempt for his own burger. However, a sudden displacement of air drew his attention to the side, where he was immediately met by the gaze of another, who now occupied the seat to his right—Julius' to be precise. A trailing thought then flooded his mind, forcing him to glance down. Thankfully, Rose's favorite plushie only came to occupy the other person's lap, being deliberately turned so that he could directly face his larger sister.

Rooker then rapidly pulled his gaze upwards, brushing his eyes over a familiar undershirt, which now lay tattered and broken, a tired set of emeralds that falter against his own, and a hodgepodge of bruises, cuts, and scrapes that failed to be addressed by the medical wrappings that hung loosely against his skull. The other man also held a sliver of wood against his heart as his weathered brow lay beaten.

A weak smile somehow managed to shine through as the other man turned his eyes back to Rose, who rewarded her defenseless prey with a delighted coo before opening a mammoth maw that did little to hide her dagger-like teeth. To the unacclimated, such a sight would prove petrifying, especially as the serpentine jaw stretched to its fullest extent, now intending to swallow the burger whole.

"Wait. Adrian?!"

As final recognition took hold, the pilot snapped his eyes back to the doctor in question, who had appeared out of nowhere and now seemed transfixed on the gruesome scene that would soon unfold.

"What in the world…" he murmured in disbelief.

However, Adrian immediately proved him a liar as he tightened his grip on Julius, unintentionally brushing against Rooker's leg in the process as a wave of tremors seemed to take hold. The color then drained from Rooker's face as he realized just how precarious of a situation they were in, given the relative instability of Adrian's episodes and his proximity to Rose, who was also at risk of flying off the handle.

Knowing full well how the doctor responded to her presence in the past, the caretaker wasted no time in standing up from his seat in a frantic effort to save them both.

"Wait, Rose. I need you to stop!"

[—]

---

Closing Notes:

Rose and Rooker finally got a chance to share a burger. Of course, Adrian couldn't help but complicate matters.

As stated above, I'm currently working on the second part of this release, which should also come out this month and provide further insight into what goes on outside of Rose's cell...

As always, thanks for the patience, and constructive feedback is welcomed!