Chapter 14: Detriment

12:42; 24th June; 1648; Testament Era

Above Tyrus Border – Kraken Class Warship Halcón – Bow

Didn't think I'd be back here again...

Pad idly watched the lone landmark which the small fleet was about to pass without as much as a regard. It was just an old tolling booth, but was coincidentally the very last place he saw of Tyrus when he left. Even from this distance, from the Halcón's bow, hundreds of feet in the air, he could see its heavily damaged state driving home just how long he's been away. It was of slight significance, but for those he now traveled with it barely qualified as a curiosity.

Several stops along the way had delayed their arrival, but here they finally are. Other than the booth, everything seemed to be as it was... or in some places improved as more time stretched from here to the day of the Hammer.

Idly his gaze drifted over the greener landscape, and the small nearby town that had like the booth been worn down considerably by more than a decade of disrepair, pulling his thoughts subtly in the direction of Jacinto itself.

That is, till he neatly ended the bout of nostalgia and tensed up.

For days on end he has tried to raise every fragment of his senses so when Gin decides to come, he'd know. He listened for whatever sound she might produce, such as footsteps, a breath, the vaguest rustle of her dress in the wind, or the faintest creak of servos.

His ears twitched as someone came, and instantly turned to address her before she could. So fast he nearly slipped on the deck, slightly wet from recent rain. So fast his vision was just a blur. Pad raised a hand to greet loudly. Clearly. With triumph.

But greeting him was a sullen and bored guardsman who wandered nearby, and wasted no time giving him an odd look for his effort, like he had suddenly grown a second head.

"Never mind." Pad in embarrassment murmured and turned back to the landscape, "Thought you were someone else."

Puzzled but deciding this was just a native's flight of fancy, the guardsman wordlessly shrugged and walked away.

Chiding himself for the little bit of humiliation he put himself through, he remained unmoving facing the scenery for much of the next hour as the small trio of frigates traveled with Halcón in the lead. Enough time to recognize several more places, before something finally clicked in his head.

Something terribly out of place.

"What the...?"

Pad looked, rubbed his eyes, wracked his memory, and looked again with no improvement of comprehension. What he had spotted shouldn't be... yet unarguably is. It just couldn't be.

"Is there a problem?" Gin's voice abruptly inquired, having come up behind him as though summoned.

Damn it! a voice cried out from the back of his head as he looked to her and pointed in a very specific direction to the starboard side – toward a lake. The woman looked at it, then back at him with the slightest raise of an eyebrow. "That lake," he spoke haltingly, unsure whether he was dreaming or not, "isn't supposed to be there."

"What else should there be?"

"A city named Tollen." Pad worried, the whole thing reeked of wrong. A whole city can't just vanish and be replaced by a lake, just like that.

"... Captain," Gin began to order the shipboard Officer tersely, this deemed to be a mystery in need of immediate investigation, "set course for the lake ten degrees to starboard side."

On the image of her opened divine correspondence, the Captain looked on with puzzlement, "Milady, may I ask why?"

"Once above the lake, effect a scan of the whole area – lake bottom included."

"... Tes."

"You didn't tell him why." Pad verbally prodded her as she closed transmission and their ship started to pivot toward the object of curiosity.

Gin simply shrugged.

Gradually the airborne flotilla neared the massive lake, a body of water so unnervingly close to the size of the city that should have been here. The scattered ruins around the edges did absolutely nothing to relieve the nervousness that built up inside him as they crossed over it, the formation settling into a staggered line as it slowed down.

With an index finger raised as she turned, beckoning for him to follow, they went back inside the ship and entered the bridge not far within the Halcón's glaring red and black hull, in which the results of the scan that commenced soon as they entered the perimeter scrolled along the holographic table.

"Milady," the Captain regarded the Third Special Agent, "we are getting some strange readings."

"Show us."

The bridge was silent as a topographic image, appeared. Pad was the first to break it as he bit down hard at what he saw. Covering the lake bed was a whole carpet of shattered buildings and streets, nearly the whole damned city of Tollen. "Is this... for real?"

The Captain nodded grimly, "I was hoping you could tell us, being our guide and all."

"Sir." another bridge officer spoke up on his own observation, "From the looks of it, it's as though the bedrock was taken from under the city all at once."

"Hm." Gin silenced the Captain from making any other comment to Pad with an impassive glare before addressing him herself, "Could the Locust have done this?"

"I seriously hope not, but what else could there be?" Pad sincerely groaned, "Like E-holes aren't nightmarish enough without them figuring out how to do bigger ones."

"Any ideas how they might have accomplish this?"

"I can't even begin to think how." Pad shook his head at the whole thing, "Bloody hell. To remove all that bedrock in any practical time-frame without people noticing, then flood it even with no nearby water sources to draw from."

Gin nodded, "Quite a mystery. Is it safe to assume they might have gained some new kind of biological weapon?"

"Probably." Pad replied uncomfortably, folding his arms as a cold spread down his back at the thought of the Locust having something much worse than the likes of Corpsers in their mining-oriented bestiary, "We better move on to Jacinto. Fast!"

She inclined her head, "Captain. Resume our previous course, make all haste."

"And hope this was a very recent development."

13:10 – 14 A.E.

Char – Griffin Tower – Head Office

Char was a dead place, a graveyard beyond most that shared its face when the Hammer fell. In its very heart lay a massive crater like a festering bloodless wound where one of the orbital weapons had struck. Around it was a ruined and shattered city, most of its inhabitants frozen in a purgatorial state where they had been flashed into statues of ash, now motionlessly fleeing a danger that came before their minds even knew it.

It was a small mercy, in some ways better than for those who remained, who now lived within two of the towers that flanked the scar. It was said that when a hateful cry filled the space of despair, full of condemnation to those responsible for this atrocity, these survivors rallied to him.

And so did the Griffin Imulsion Corporation live on, after a fashion, with that hateful man at its head keeping the fire strong at the same time as he tried to lead his followers away from the war, a goal now colored by a lust for vengeance when word came... that the Coalition had been beaten into a state of some weakness by years of unending attrition, now holed up in a rotting port on the countryside.

An opportunity in sight, Griffin had reached far and wide for like-minded Stranded who also yearn to punish the COG with all severity for the unfathomable crime committed. An effort that culminated in a conference down at Tuktu City by the coast.

He almost had his war, only to see it squashed. The glorious allied army to be instantly torn in half when a new player entered the stage and seduced many with rose-colored words of a better future. If there was a future that allowed it, he would gladly make the flat-chested bitch suffer with his bare hands for what she has done.

With an additional target on his list, Griffin returned to Char, to his office, and started to oft spend hours just staring out the window while nursing his white-hot anger. All other time spent planning and scheming. Musashi's intervention had robbed him of a united Stranded army, but he still have many cards to play.

Behind him, covering the whole length of his old mahogany desk, lay the fruits of several days of labor. Stacks of paperwork, lists of what each clan that still supported his war for justice could bring to the table when war is eventually declared.

It was heartening, but disappointing. For the most part they would be a light infantry force with little in way of mechanized assets. A few clans got some vehicles, one even claimed they've managed to recover two Petrels – old Pendulum War-era fixed-wing Strike Fighter-Bomber aircraft that the COG decided to discontinue wholly in favor of King Ravens – in serviceable condition.

But they needed more, so with many lost to Musashi he sent envoys to Stranded clans even more distant. He even considered distasteful options such as beseeching pirate factions, like LIFTA, for help. LIFTA itself though, if those he got spying on a few traitor clans were correct, Musashi has recently blown it out of the water – literally.

Griffin seethed in his chair just thinking of such a potential asset resting at the bottom of the ocean. Until one of his soot-covered subordinates – they were all soot-covered though, water was so precious a commodity here that only the higher ups had enough to wash themselves – came in with a message, "Oi Griffin sir!" Weasel called to him.

"Is there a particular reason for you to bug me, Weasel?" Griffin snarled without breaking his gaze from the source of the Char clan's fortune – the Imulsion Supply Factory.

"Ye got a transmission from one Lyle Ollivar," Weasel shuddered and said, "said he wanted to speak with you."

"Lyle huh." he considered, "Ain't he that smarmy git from LIFTA?"

"Aye Griffin sir!"

Griffin shortly rose and walked past the soot-covered man, "What a coincidence, just the man I wanted to yell at."

With his mood particularly foul of late, no one was in a hurry to bar his way in fear of provoking an outburst. He walked past them indomitably like a bronze titan, eyes veiled by impenetrable black glasses, along with a nearly regal but largely decorative cane in hand. He crossed the distance to the transmitter room in a few heartbeats and stepped inside to sit heavily down on the chair positioned in front of the precious device, snatching up the microphone wired to it in the same move.

He cleared his throat, and switched the microphone on. Making sure to put his most authoritative tone on as he began, "This is CEO Aaron Griffin speaking, what's up?"

"Lyle Ollivar here, in case you wonder why Darrel's not the one talking – he's dead, so I'm Chief now."

"Uh-huh, fancy that."

"As you may have heard, we're in bad straits over here."

"Right." Griffin drawled, "I wasn't paying attention to you pieces of shit for one second and you get yourself blown into orbit, what the hell?"

"Darrel wanted to take a bite out of those traitors who now serve the newcomers, but took off more than he could chew. Musashi replied and made a point to mess us up really bad. Our whole damned navy were blown to bits in less than an hour."

"And what kind of response did ya get to be kicked that bad?"

"Two ships."

"... Pardon me, I have a hard time digging the amount of bullshit I'm just heard outta my ears." Griffin put on his 'Fuck you!' expression, "You really just fucking said what I heard you did just now?!"

Lyle audibly scratched his head, "It's true, whatever you can say about Musashi, they got some really mean guns. We surround and pelted them with all the heavy guns and rocket launchers we've stockpiled. It was as disadvantageous a position as I can imagine an enemy to be in." and laughed in a way that could only come from disbelief, "Unfortunately, no one had bothered to inform Musashi of that as they went on to massacre us. A bloody turkey shoot is what that turned out to be."

Griffin grunted at this, "And you called me so I could listen to your sob story?"

"No, because we want to join you."

"And what do you have precisely but bits and pieces?"

"Some ships once we get 'em up and running. Lots of weapons, and experience. Few knows the seas more than us, and you're going to need that."

A little alarm went off in his head, "And why is that?"

"We may be beaten, but our spy network's still working. Take this tidbit of information, it's all on us: The COG's leaving Port Farrall. And considering recent developments, we have reason to believe the site of relocation will be Toxin Town. Does the name ring any bells?"

An old and altogether vague memory associated itself with that nickname, popularly given to a base the COG did not even try to keep secret what with the town – Pelruan was the name – they founded alongside to support it. After decades of unending war, there were little left that could be called controversial research. Build a facility dedicated to the study of chemical agents to use against the UIR, and the public would simply shrug it off.

Once Griffin finished the train of thought, he snorted, "Of course."

"Then you know any future attack on the COG will be an amphibious operation." Lyle went on and asked, "Consequently you know you'll need us."

"Damn straight, but don't get all smug or I'll beat ya into the hollows. Bring all your people, all your ships and all your gear to Endeavor Naval Shipyard. Set up shop there."

"I won't and we will. Pleasure doing business with you."

"I'm sure you are." Griffin glared at the transmitter and continued, "But before you go, tell me: Darrel did not voice interest in joining me before, and neither did you. There's a catch – a reason for you to cast your lot with us – isn't it?"

"Maybe," Lyle said slowly in a contemplative tone, "We hate the COG too, but who we really want to beat up is Musashi. I've heard you're no fan of them either."

"So you're hoping that once we finish with the COG... we'll go for the newcomers next?"

With utter solemnity, LIFTA's new leader spoke thus: "Yes. Will you?"

Griffin for the first time today cracked a broad smile, a bright one that shocked his soot-covered subordinates still in the room, "Hah. You know what, Lyle? I believe we'll get along swimmingly."

13:35; 24th June; 1648; Testament Era

Tyrus – Jacinto – Kraken Class Warship Halcón

Gin said nothing. There were no words she could utter that could make this any easier to take for their recently employed guide, for none of his previous hopes could deal with the harshness of this new reality.

Jacinto was gone.

Above what remained of it, among other things half a rusty red bridge and what is left of the city's utterly butchered outskirts – pieces of which threatened to collapse into the great lake where a bustling city should have been, its ruined husk now carpeting the bottom haphazardly.

At great length she looked out across it all, not expecting Pad to get up from where he sat just staring blankly ahead, struggling to come to terms with this newest loss. It was Pad in a nutshell, a shattered man with a lot on his shoulders in the form of an encroaching loneliness. Too many friends and family gone.

"Hm. At the very least," Gin finally spoke up as a particular detail in the landscape drew her attention, "it would seem the flooding we saw in Tollen, and this here, was an accident."

Pad finally slowly raised his head, "Accident?"

"Look."

Belatedly, he followed her gaze to where the artificial basin bordered to the sea beyond, where massive chunks of cliffs newly made by the cataclysmic event had apparently collapsed, which allowed the very sea to pour right in. "So what we are looking at..." the man muttered, getting.

"Accidental mass suicide?"

Pad managed a strained laugh, "Would be nice, but they're not idiots. Butt-ugly as all hell, but not idiots. No... there must be more to this."

Right there, Gin eyed an opening to brighten his mood. She put the left hand to her chin and hummed speculatively, "More to this... I see. What if the COG saw this coming and relocated... then destroyed those cliffs after the fact?"

"I don't feel like hoping in vain, but that sounds rather more likely..." Pad smiled as he got back on his feet and took a long sweeping look around, "Only question is... where would the Coalition settle down next?"

Not about to push him, the woman patiently waited for him to figure something out.

"Maybe if we find some Stranded, we'd get the answer." he turned to her, "Have the fleet spread out and look for any people that might still be around!"

Gin nodded in approval, "Tes." and opened a channel to every of the three Captains under her command, "All ships, fan out. Find any sign of recent habitation and dispatch units to make contact – report back when done."

Soon as the confirmations rolled in, the formation broke up into its component parts. The Halcón heading for what is left of the industrial area while the Águila and the Gorrión went for the residential area and harbor respectively.

Minutes passed by in near silence as they neared the in large part demolished industrial area. Gin did not hold much hope for finding a settlement here, but held her tongue now that Pad was safely out of his brooding depression. And as she looked slowly over the remnants, it was clear that all the factories were gone, leaving only some smatterings of storage blocks and depots.

Finally, the more locally knowledgeable Pad raised a hand, pointing down, "There, prep for landing."

She stepped to the edge and came to peer down at an outlying block of four storehouses, with messy construction where there probably used to be fences. But even with all the clumsy construction it all looked empty.

"You certain?" a nearby guardsman happened to ask, "It seems abandoned."

"Even if we don't find people, we might find something else." he reasoned.

"Tes." Gin shrugged and messaged; "Captain, set us down."

Soon enough, the Halcón set down on a nearby parking lot and they disembarked with a quartet of guardsmen at their back and the frigate's upper deck cannon pivoted into position to cover their approach - just in case.

With Pad in the lead, they neared what was left of the Stranded encampment, what excuse it had for door was in a heap. It probably fell apart when the city was destroyed. No more than a cursory look was required to see just how alone they were in this desolate place, yet Pad's determined optimism carried them onward past it and up to the closest storehouse itself, where they came up to the first real obstacle of this little excursion.

Across the whole length of the loading dock and door besides stood a wall of scrap.

Their guide rubbed his temples, "Maybe we'll find an open entrance on the other side."

"Give me a moment." Gin impassively announced, "Arcabuz Cruz."

Behind her, the very air shimmered as with the call she summoned two of the four firearms she could call into the field. Too large to simply be held, the two staff-shaped cannons came to hover at her flanks – pointed at where her gaze fell. Gin performed the most dangerous-looking narrowing of her eyes, and the cannons sharply barked as they relinquished each their round on the unfortunate obstacle – each more than able in their lonesome to shred a house. In the face of such firepower, the barrier was nothing but a momentary distraction as it unceremoniously crumpled inwardly with explosive force – a gaping hole all that remained of both the wall and loading dock once the smoke cleared.

Understandably, Pad was stunned by both the abrupt appearance of the huge ordnance she had never actually shown him before now, and the subsequent demolition. It was mildly entertaining to be frank, though the woman hardly twitched an inch to echo that sentiment. It had the faint sensation of victory to it as a strange contrast was revealed to the other. Pad is a Sniper by trade, her specialty is Artillery Combat. Those disciplines are the very antithesis of one another on the battlefield.

"And where the hell did you keep those things all this time?" Pad asked slowly as he recovered from the shock.

Gin shrugged nonchalantly, "I keep a compressed space near for storage." like it was not at all amazing.

A look of disbelief was what he gave back, but the man chose not to argue and instead looked to the damage caused – rubbing the back of his head while doing so. "Er, let's head inside. Best hope your shot did not damage anything important."

"Tes."

Thankfully, as they went inside it was found that the room just past the hole held nothing of importance. Just more junk to the mild disgust of the guardsmen who followed in their wake.

More of interest was the main storage chamber, where they found enough primitive abodes lined up to make up a miniature town. Living space sufficient for several hundred people, though with no signs of people having lived here for the last couple of weeks at least. It also smelled obscene, much of it thanks to the few rotted corpses they came across along the way. There was no question it had been evacuated in a hurry.

"It'd be great if there is a transmitter somewhere." Pad plainly ignored the dead, single-minded in his search.

To Gin however, more of interest was what abruptly came to press up to the fencing adjacent to her. It was tiny and covered in a golden carpet of feathers – looking terribly famished besides. "Poultry?" she asked.

Looking inside the enclosure made of the fences she was positive used to line the outside perimeter was a large area covered by hay, open trays, and lots of chickens. Many of them dead from starvation, but many more still alive if barely.

Her decision was prompt.

"Men, new orders." Gin announced, fixing the guardsmen with an oblique glance, "Find any chicken fodder and feed them."

"Huh?" one of them stumbled awkwardly at a task beyond their job description, "Why?"

"Our food supplies are limited. Shoring them up with any renewable foods we find is of utmost importance. Get to it, and once done tell the Captain to take the ship closer and unload people to help take the poultry on board."

"W-where do we put them?" the Corporal among them inquired.

"Any empty room will suffice. Bunk up for several people a room to free up space if necessary."

"Um... Tes."

Gin gave them a strict nod before she left them to their new assignment, and followed the path Pad went while her attention was elsewhere – up a nearby set of stairs, to an elevated office that was situated at the very top of it.

It was every bit as unimpressive as the rest. What tapestry the walls were covered with maybe no earlier than two decades ago appeared both worn-down and void of colors. The only point of interest was the mahogany desk that included a few stacks of rugged yellow paper and a strange boxy device.

Pad loomed over it all, browsing with sharp scrutiny.

"By any chance, would that be the transmitter?" Gin asked of him as she took a closer look on the device, and found another but altogether different machine behind the desk. She eyed either curiously.

"Yes it is."

"Have you tried to contact anyone?"

Pad shook his head, "Generator's out, so there's no power feed. The transmitter's sabotaged anyway."

"And how can you tell?" Gin frowned a bit, it looked fine to her. That it was out of power was understandable, but she did not know how he figured out it's a waste of time to try using even if they had the electricity to feed it.

With a shrug, he reached for a tuner on the transmitter and turned it, "If you look closely, there are several frequencies it simply refuses to lock onto. All of them COG frequencies. Some Stranded probably hated them so much he refused to let his people call them for aid even in times of emergency. Either rely on Stranded alone, or die a traitor's death."

Gin's expression settled the closest it could to a grimace, little more than curled lips in her case, "Sounds wholly unreasonable."

"People are unreasonable even at the worst of times. God knows it's been a constant companion of ours."

"... I see. Have you found anything else?"

"Maybe." Pad pulled up a tattered piece of paper, "According to these, due to cities... sinking... these people sent out some to find an alternate place to settle. This here," he pointed at the lower end, "says they found a place. In the forest to the south-east. If we are lucky, we might find some of the people who evacuated from here."

"I assume their animosity to anything COG would make questioning difficult."

"Like pulling teeth." he admitted, "No other choice unless the other ships have better luck than us."

"I see." Gin muttered as she opened a frame and checked for any reports, "Unfortunately, there has been no other sightings so far."

Pad cursed as he gave the paper a world-class glare, "Shit, looks like we'll have to hope they're in an amiable mood."

"Does the place they found have a name by the way?" Gin asked as she went to the Office window and looked out over the indoor settlement, at least pleased to see a greater number of guardsmen around the cage, the chickens within eating almost as fast as the men and women could feed them. If lucky, there might be more renewable foods in the neighboring storehouses.

"Yep." he squinted at the paper, trying to read a particularly patchy part, "It's apparently called... New Hope."

14:05; 24th June; 1648; Testament Era

Kashkuri Highlands – Anvil Gate

"We need to build what?"

Felipe smiled. Soon as Gin sent in her newest report, he had called together a meeting with just himself, Juana and Takakane concerning the developing situation out there. Some of it good, much more of it bad. Not about to heap all the not-so-good news too soon onto them he endeavored to tell them of Gin little act of thinking ahead.

"Chicken coops, Juana." he repeated kindly, careful to hide a little laugh, "Gin and the others happened to find some couple hundred abandoned chickens along the way and decided to appropriate them with our food situation in mind. Not nearly the number we need, but it's a start."

"Of all the..." the buxom elf shook her head and sighed in slight resignation, "Define 'abandoned'."

"By all indication, they haven't been fed in a long time." Felipe browsed the frames of Gin's report, "Also they happened to find crates of this to bring along." and flipped around a frame complete with a picture of a plastic crate filled with some dark-green puffy kind of matter.

Takakane squinted, "What is that?"

"Apparently it's algae."

"Algae?" Juana grimaced, "Why would Gin bother to pick such a thing up."

"From what is written, Pad said for most of these years this particular kind of algae has been a main staple within the COG. In other words, it's food."

Neither of his compatriots seemed enthused by the prospect of eating algae, they turned as positively green as it is with a world-breaking promptness. "And you're okay with that?"

"Well I'm not too eager I admit, but take our situation into account." Felipe shrugged, "From what has been told, growing a lot of this algae is pretty easy. So simply that any civilian could easily build their own ready supply with minimal resources. I doubt it's particularly tasty, but I'd argue starving is worse. And hungry soldiers make weak soldiers. The COG understood that and pragmatically embraced this, and so shall we... if we must."

"And we'll have to break this to the others." Juana groaned thoughtfully.

Takakane reclined, "Now that will be a fun conversation..."

Felipe raised his shoulders, "And those were the good news."

"Ah, Tsirch!"

Wincing at the Chancellor's choice of curse, Juana put a hand to her chin and wondered, "They haven't actually met the COG yet?"

"No." Felipe confirmed sadly, "Disaster struck Jacinto and its surrounding cities in Pad's absence."

"Define disaster." Takakane sat up a little straighter, sure that he would not like whatever was about to be revealed.

He grimaced. It was not at all pretty. "Sufficed to say there is conclusive evidence that Jacinto and a city named Tollen has been... sunk, most likely by the Locust."

"Sunk?"

"Somehow removing the whole bedrock below a city in short order so it would collapse and fall into the depths." Felipe ignored how his colleagues flinched as he brought up the relevant pictures, "At the latter location, the process applied to Jacinto seem to have triggered a major flooding. Whether this was an accident or caused by the COG as they relocated to wherever they may be now is as of yet unknown."

"... Makes me wish we had one of those Quasi-Bahamut Class vessels to live on." Takakane frowned as he took it all in, the bizarre scope of it. "If they can do that, what could stop them from doing the same here?"

"Depending on how far the flooding went," Juana thought aloud, "I wouldn't worry too much."

The Chancellor folded his arms, "Yeah, but for the hell of it I'll talk to Diego later about adapting some ship's sensor entirely for tremor-detection. Any objection?"

Juana shrugged, "None."

"Good to know. So is there any other piece of news we ought to know, or can I go back to helping my wife, and nip my next nap's nightmare in the bud with repression most harsh and thorough while at it?"

Felipe chuckled politely, "Other than letting us know Pad has found a clue of where to go next, none. Hopefully they'll have some good news for us in a few hours."

Katakane adjusted his cap as he stood, exhaling in mild relief, "Yeah to that. Getting too many bad news for my liking. Now if you excuse me."

With little flair, the man hurried out, and Juana rose to follow suit a moment later... until something occurred to Felipe and he called to her, "Ah, Juana!"

"Yes?"

"About those chicken coops, try asking Harua if she might be able to help with that."

Juana drooped her shoulder by a hardly noticeable inch for some reason that eluded him, but smiled and nodded, "Tes, I'll see to it. Make sure you do not return to the mop now."

"I won't." Felipe grimaced in a subdued manner to her well-mannered satisfaction as she left him alone in his office, staring obliquely in the general direction of the nearest cottage that somehow seemed to call out to him with words of temptation, "I won't... Ah, who am I kidding?"

18:30; 24th June; 1648; Testament Era

Tyrus – New Hope Research Facility

Quickly after they left Jacinto behind, it became all too evident that even with the coordinates they wouldn't have found the place designated 'New Hope' by the Stranded without some point of reference helpfully provided by a map Pad looted from the shantytown they were in.

Even then, it was hard to read.

So when their flotilla finally entered the airspace of a sizable facility in the middle of a thickly forested part of the wilderness, those in the bridge watched silently and expectantly as information from the newly started scans scrolled in and shaped into coherent holographic images, so precisely detailed that the sign at the very mouth of the parking lot was readily readable.

"New Hope Wellness Facility." Pad took a moment to read the text, hazy from both incompleteness and the sign's rusted state. "Against all odds," he joked, "we've come to the right place."

Scattered laughs was the crew's reply.

Gin was however quiet as she appraised both the holograph and various live images collected by each respective ship, "I wonder, does it not look rather empty?"

Their guide frowned as he took in the images, "Or maybe that is what they want us to think."

"So they may have hidden themselves away." it was not a question. Gin weighed their options, "We'll land forces and conduct a search then. You comb the surface while I lead a team through the interior."

"Would rather switch, but okay."

The Captain frowned, "How many soldiers shall we deploy for the search?"

"Pad will lead the second platoon as it is a large area to cover. For the inside however it would be unwise to deploy such numbers, so I'll need only one fireteam. Corporal Takashi's should suffice."

"You're giving me twenty people?" the native asked in light astonishment.

"Come to think of it," she frowned, "how many men did you usually lead during your time in the COG?"

"Was a marksman, so mostly myself and..." Pad was the very picture of regret as he briefly thought back, "my spotter."

"I see." Gin accepted, "They will accept the directions you give, otherwise each individual squad will act at their own discretion. Would that be satisfactory?"

It took a moment for both Pad and the Captain to understand she just asked them both. Pad replied with a slow accepting nod, the other however was reluctant to place such a force under the command of a native primitive, but quickly conceded under Gin's witheringly impassive gaze. "Tes. Acknowledged."

"Inform all units. Briefing in five, deployment in fifteen. Let's find these people and be done with this place."

There was a sense of instability about the ruins below them she just could not place.

18:50; 24th June; 1648; Testament Era

Tyrus – New Hope Research Facility – Vestibule

"What an unbelievable dump." Corporal Takashi examined the place through his headset in distaste as they entered the place via the front entrance, "Can't believe anyone would even think about living here."

"Yet that is what the Stranded considered." Gin agreed as she lead them through a smattering of overturned chairs and desks, thoroughly rotten by the merciless passing of time. New Hope was perhaps a pleasant place once upon a time, but it no longer held any of that speculative charm. Rather, she could not imagine a drearier place even in dreaming. The patches of dried blood on floor and walls did in no way help soften the image. "Because of that, we will stay till we find them or none at all."

He grumbled an answer, but the woman didn't listen as she spotted what was left of an armored security door at the far end of the corridor ahead, the wall above lined with a collection of screens. It so stood out from the rest of this place – fashioned like a warehouse – that it simply craved investigation.

Gin brought an artificial finger to caress the frame, eyes on the butchered door leaning on the wall inside, and was about to cross the threshold when two of the screens above suddenly groaned with effort and sputtered a shower of sparks on the assembled group of apprehensive guardsmen.

Said screens wasted no time putting on display a disturbingly distorted image of what was possibly a man's face. It simply continued to blur and contort as they watched, emitting no sound from the speakers embedded in the walls.

"Now that's... interesting." Gin commented dryly with a look that only signified mild interest, "Some of the systems here still seem to be functional."

Her subordinates eyed her in exasperation, Takashi the one to put words to it: "Nothing on that really creepy face?"

Gin shrugged, "It's just an image. Come on."

Begrudgingly, the group followed the Third Special Agent up the following stairs that inevitably lead them past another door framed with additional screens that displayed the very same face – incessantly contorting and grimacing like a digital scarecrow. It did its fair share to unnerve the group, but the woman in front of them kept them going with sheer impassive will.

Outside the broken windows of the first room they came across, searchlights flashed by as one of the ships passed overhead. It added some reassurance... as even if they found trouble, it was doubtful the roof of this structure as well as anything under it could stand up to the power of an Ether-cannon barrage.

Less helpful on the other hand was the patches and streaks of dried and blackened blood, those just kept popping up in every room and hallway they passed and searched for any sign of Stranded. Nothing special found aside from a string of long since deactivated static defenses and a deep sense of wrongness until they entered a courtyard, and found a messy pile of skeletal remains someone must have gathered. Takashi was the first to go close and prod one of the skulls with the barrel of his musket like he expected it to come back to life, "... What in the world are these?"

"Good question." Gin looked it over in displeasure and opened a divine correspondence via the troops' Mouse, Michael, "I need a word with Pad. Link up with him."

It took a moment as the Corporal at the other end approached the native and lent him the sign frame, "Hey Gin." Pad greeting, staring into the distance, "What's up?"

"We've come across some skeletal remains, but unable to identify the type of creature. Please advise."

"Show me."

Gin took an image of the very skull Takashi had prodded and sent it, "Here you go."

The man examined the dispatched image as it reached him, eyes widening in an instant recognition, "It's one of the lesser animals the Locust use in lieu of dogs. We call them Wretches."

'Wretch' seemed a most apt name for it. She was not in a great deal of hurry to see a live one. "I see."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing. We're moving on." Gin closed the frame and looked for which path to take next. At first it seemed all too obvious what with a nearby door wide open, splattered with dried blood besides, but her attention was instead drawn to another door, blocked by rubble. "Halt." she called to Takashi who was about to take his subordinates through the open door, "We go through here."

"It's blocked." he observed.

Gin tilted her head at him, and proceeded to bat some of the rubble away, drew her arms back, and with the twin-blades hidden in each of her massive prosthetic arms lashed out in a lightning-fast motion, slicing the blocked entrance to pieces, "Not anymore."

For emphasis, she simply brushed and kicked away the piled up fragments that remained of the door and entered, wordlessly compelling them to follow. A soldier had some sarcastic remark in mind, but after seeing her handiwork decided that keeping it to himself was probably for the best.

Somehow, in this part of the facility there seemed to be altogether less and more blood at the same time. And as though the smell of it was not obscene enough, it worsened as they continued through an additional number of rooms and hallways. "Something's here, and I don't care much for it." Takashi muttered.

"Agreed. Keep weapons ready." Gin softly ordered in agreement as the scent that was altogether too much like that of offal and decay grew stronger, until it was borderline intolerable... when they came to a wide closed door that with the pair of active monitors hugging it managed to loom over them.

What was displayed was the same haggard face, with sunken eyes and jaws so stretched yet curled that it seemed as though it screamed in laughter.

Again, the woman ignored it as she brushed a finger against the doorknob. What she could not ignore however was when the nearest speaker behind them coughed a garbled voice; "New Hope always... yearns... for perfection. Our... cleanliness standards... are near Godliness." it crooned gloomily, "Filth... will not... be tolerated. Yes. It... never will."

Takashi glared at the ceiling, "That thing's really starting to bug the hell out of me."

Gin tentatively added another finger and caught the comparatively tiny knob in a vice, and turned it very slowly as the machine continued its rant:

"Any filth... trespasser..." it rambled as if trying to decide what topic to stick to; "Grave consequences. Grave... consequences."

It was not until a couple of seconds passed that Gin realized she had yet to fully turn the knob. Only a couple of butchered sentences had left the speaker, yet the timing of it had successfully shot a terribly cold feeling down her spine. To her own incredulity, she was frightened to the bone of what might be on the other side of this door.

"My lady?"

She blinked and looked at Private Jin in astonishment like she expected a certain someone else to stand there with a comforting hand on her shoulder. For the slightest and most fleeting moment it was as though Muneshige was here. The young guardsman did not know what went on as she stared past and tilted his head in confusion. And that was when a little burst of anger flared within her soul, not at herself or someone else, not at Muneshige, but at the very notion of something drawing more fear from her than the prospect of never seeing her beloved again.

Gin refocused on the door with greatly sharpened eyes and willed her artificial hand to move. Not to twist the knob, but to lay into this door a serious backhand from a cold start. And with a boom that echoed through the hallway she smashed the door off its hinges and watched it clatter to the floor in passing satisfaction.

Following this, Gin steeled herself for what would confront her next, but readily admitted it was far more gruesome than she expected.

Before them a large single-floor circular room stretched with a ceiling of shattered glass, its remains scattered all over the floor and crunched under her reinforced footwear as she entered with her nose pinched in the face of the monstrosity that decorated the center like a monument of history's atrocities.

It was a massive pile of festering human corpses and offal. Exposed to the elements for an unknown amount of time, they were badly decomposed. What little consistency remained in some of the bodies were twisted into disgusting masks of pain and agony. All of their similar stage of decay told all too clear of the massacre they were put through, and how they were unceremoniously piled up in here.

Degrading in the extreme.

"Pad." Gin opened a frame, tone choked.

His response was thankfully swift, "You don't sound too good. Did you find anything?"

"I believe I've found the Stranded who came here."

Not catching on, he went on to ask; "Have you spoken to them yet?"

"No. They are, sorry to say, in no position to strike a conversation." Gin gravely told him and provided an image, "As you can see."

"Agh... for fuck's sake!" Pad winced and hissed on a passing glance, "Listen Gin, pull out of there. Depending on how long ago this happened, we might have Locust flying up our asses soon. Hurry..."

"Testament." Gin closed the frame and was in the process of returning to her team to hand out the fallback order, when a blood-curdling scream echoed from speakers across the facility. It was a trap, she realized, one possibly meant for any additional incoming evacuees from Jacinto. Across the room, concealed gratings suddenly burst open and unleashed upon the floor a tide of small ugly creatures. Wretches, lots of them that as soon as they spotted the humans frothed at the mouth and swarmed onward.

"My lady!"

The warning was accompanied by a screech coming from the periphery of her vision as a much closer one among the creatures leaped at her with its reeking maw open and claws arrayed, only to get a bullet blown through the skull for its trouble. Finally with something to take their attention away from the sickening mound, the guardsmen took to the challenge with undisguised enthusiasm lit by disgust and contempt. As one they arrayed themselves in a line and discharged volleys into the horde, cutting down several where they leaped and ran – not even fazing the rest as they, caught in a frenzy, continued to surge.

Eagerness aside, there were simply too many for only a few riflemen to take. Their weapons made as approximations of the much more ancient firearm with the same name, within reason of course, it simply did not have the rate of fire to deal with such lopsided odds.

So the first Gin did, was eat up the distance in long rapid strides, and physically shoved them to the door, then kept on going to borderline frogmarch them across the corridor.

"This is no time for bravado." Gin snapped at them without raising her voice, "For now, withdraw."

"What about...?" Takashi glared over his shoulder as the Wretches gleefully followed them, funneling down the hallway in single-minded pursuit. Eager to feast on these newcomers' flesh.

"Keep on running, I'll handle them."

Nodding, he whipped the other riflemen to keep ahead of the female as she did her thing.

A little thing called 'Arcabuz Cruz' as with the spoken command to summon them, the massive artillery system burst from her compressed space. With but the flick of wrists and a glance backward she had them flip around and connected, now arrayed from her back like a pair of ungainly metal wings.

Gin glared with iron will as she wordlessly opened fire, the twin shells spinning round one another from the microsecond they left their respective barrels as they crossed the gap and messily blew through at least a dozen of the creatures by sheer momentum before the shells' Ether-warheads detonated into a storm of fire and shrapnel that shredded many others.

As a little bonus, the blast crippled the facility's already weakened structural integrity and made the hallway behind them collapse thunderously on what little remained of the pursuing pack.

But though the most immediate threat to their well-being was gone, she could hear firefights going on outside, a development complemented by a pack of something too small to be airships darting past above. She could just barely see some kind of tentacled flying beast whip past a convenient hole in the ceiling, heading for the newly sprung battlefield.

Arriving at the courtyard, they made a beeline for the door that would lead them back to the front entrance, only to see it explode and the whole part of the building be consequently razed as one of the flying creatures rushed in from above and landed upon the ruin, its riders - cloaked by shadow - leering down at them.

Nonchalantly, Gin directed her Arcabuz Cruz at it in great immediacy and blew an over-sized hole through its skull and body to the riders momentary disbelief, unable to do anything but perish as the shell exploded in the air behind and consumed both them and what remained of the beast.

"Nice going." Takashi complimented sincerely.

She merely nodded and looked to the only remaining path, the path she refused them to take earlier. "We need to move. More will come."

True to her word, several more of the bizarre creatures started to circle around, a couple of them soon peeling away as the nearest frigate tried to shoot them down with its heavy ordnance. Without God of War or fighter support the frigates were quick to show they're having a hard time against such nimble targets.

Without ado, she led them into the alternate door and made all speed in search for another exit. There were some additional static defenses along the way, but these like those before had thankfully already been deactivated by somebody else.

All along, every screen they passed ceaselessly displayed the distorted man, gloating silently at their predicament.

But as they advanced, Gin noticed one particular drawback with their current path; it only lead them further and deeper into the dreary heart of this cheerless place. With little choice while the fight outside is still ongoing, they continued to descend along the series of stairs that culminated in a hallway separated into two paths. One lined with buttons and another with sentry guns. People were clearly expected to travel through in pairs.

A troublesome thing they had no need to follow, as the armored doors at the far end seemed to have been broken wide open, letting the group safely cross it solely via the weaponless path.

The place beyond such a security measure being this place's most secret lab was to be expected. Less expected to their surprise was what imminently came to light.

Gin entered first and took a careful look around for any threats, only to be almost instantly transfixed by the number of stasis tanks arrayed across the center of the room. Wretches were nothing but ugly, but these, whatever those things are, frozen within the enclosures of glass were absolutely hideous. Twisted things with uneven and swollen features. If possibly, their faces were even worse. So grossly unbalanced and filled with rows of unnervingly long teeth.

"Did they... deserve... what we did... to them?" the face mewled remorsefully, "Should we... be punished?"

Two of her guardsmen were eager to reply in the affirmative at the sight of these vile creatures, confusion of what was researched here be damned... but they were all silenced as another cry like the one before pierced the air, and was quickly joined by several other throaty roars. Terrible moans delighting in the slaughter to come.

"When we... are fully cleansed," it continued heedlessly in a tone of reverence, "and the... truth comes... forth, will... we listen?"

Knowing from the racket their only way out was to go through whatever lay ahead, Gin had the Arcabuz Cruz part to join her just over the shoulders, and all of her four wrist-mounted blades arrayed with the clenching of her fists. Gazing ahead with years of practiced nonchalance, the woman implacably marched onward into the waiting nightmare.

"Guardsmen. Get ready for combat."

Author notes: Another 'Eh' chapter posted. Some parts I'm happy about, some parts less happy. I got a real thing of being bothered by an obsessive thought of having used certain words too much. It includes an aversion to placing a 'the' at the start of as many paragraphs as possible, and likewise preventing myself from starting stories/chapters with an 'it'. Truly it slows down the writing process more than I like.

Well, enough self-deprecation. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

As for why Niles is active when Delta already turned him off... guess someone or something decided to turn him back on. A small cruelty is still a blight.