AN: Hello everyone, yes it's me, tmroc725 here! I am very much alive, kicking, and still planning to see this story to the end. I'd like to extend my deepest apologies to everyone who has been waiting for this chapter. I've had it very much complete for a while now, but just haven't gotten to uploading it. A lot has been going on in my life, and I've been working a lot - its taken a lot of my energy and time that I would normally dedicate to writing. If you're a follower of my co-writer, you know that his companion piece to this story hasn't been updated in quite some time. It is for reasons similar to my own; we both have lives that have to come before our stories, for better or worse, lol. Now, without further ado, lets get on with chapter 10, eh?
Tau Volantis, Coral System
Unitologist Base, Corridors
"Its quiet. To goddamn quiet." It was the iconic phrase that Tyr muttered darkly under his breath as he and Valkyrie advanced through the halls of the base. And for the most part, it was true too. Other than the sounds of their boots clapping against the solid floor, and their breathing over the closed channel they had used throughout the mission, there was nothing else. Most importantly, no resistance of any kind. It was as, if only for a moment, the base had become deserted as they made their way towards the prisoner holding area.
The most disconcerting fact? Even when Stevens tapped into his 'battle vision', he detected no hostile life-songs of any sort. Of course, there were friendly and unknown ones; Valkyrie to at his side, and three dim life forces that were getting steadily closer and brighter. But other than that, nothing. Granted, he could only detect things if they had a heartbeat, so synthetics weren't off the table completely. But the church has yet to deploy mechs of any kind, at least as far as I know. He thought grimly as he pointed his rifle towards an empty hallway.
For a moment, he froze, grip tight on his Turian made rifle. Am I going crazy or did that shadow just move?"
Beside him, Valkyrie paused for a moment, resting on the tips of her boots as she gazed back at Stevens, shaking her head as she observed him for a moment. "Come on Stevens, keep moving." She ordered him with a chiding tone, motioning for him to follow her with a jerk of the head, as she began to move back down through the corridor that they were currently in. "The only boogeyman is the one in your head, and I want to get off this bloody planet, so haul ass, would you?"
With a shake of the head, Tyr fell in behind Valkyrie, his weapon at the ready. If any more church crazies decided that they wanted to come out and play, he was going to be ready for them at the very least. Of course, there wasn't anyone out and about now, which worried him more than anything else, given the intense resistance that they had been met with earlier. He knew should have counted it as a blessing, a reprieve from the close-quarters combat, but all it did was worry him.
After what felt like hours of navigating uniformly colored hallways, stair wells and corridors, the pair of Cerberus operatives found themselves in the dull wing of the base that was marked with prisoner storage sighs and 'Authorized Personnel Only' marks on the walls. "Looks bigger than what the layout alluded to," Tyr rumbled as they entered. And it did to. While there was only one room currently occupied -the first one, and their destination- there was probably enough room to hold a hundred or so people. Maybe more if you didn't mind packing them like sardines in a can.
"Church wouldn't think twice about it," the Aspect of War projected into his head, tone as close to grim as it could get. "This is not a good place by any stretch of the imagination. It should be turned over to the judgement that is the purity of the flame." Alex added as an afterthought, and Tyler could practically imagine the Aspect taking a flamethrower to the place.
Moving deeper into the long corridor, doors on both sides, that were spaced equidistantly, they came to one that was marked by maximum security indicators. Like every other entrances, there was an electronic lock keeping it closed. Wordless, Valkyrie got to work cracking it with her omni-tool, while Tyler turned around, dropping to one armored knee as he scanned for non-existent targets.
Surprisingly, it only took Valkyrie scant moments. "You would think these bastards would have done a little more to encrypt their prison systems," she muttered as she lowered her omni-tool. She shot a glance towards Tyler and nodded at the now green aerogel display, that signalled the door was open. "You go in first, in case it's boobytrapped. You can probably grow limbs back, I can't."
Tyler couldn't tell if there was a teasing tone to her voice or not, and simply nodded. "Gee, thanks Val, so considerate of you." He muttered as he stepped forward, closing his battlevision link as he did so.
Other than the three life-songs in the room before him, he wasn't detecting anything, and didn't think it would be worth it to keep scanning. From what Alex had told him in the past, he had to practice with it, use it more often while he focused only on it, to build up a tolerance for keeping the link going. Very much like exercise, conditioning the muscles for more strenuous activities. In practice, he had no idea how such training would work, but who was he to question his Aspect, especially at a time like this?
"Breaching in three, two, one." Tyler announced, holding up his left hand and dropping his fingers with each count, rifle cradled in his right hand and braced against his shoulder. A normal person would have probably broken something if they tried to fire an assault rifle like this, but he was confident that he wasn't quite that fragile. In fact, he had fired one handed as a test -something Miranda and Valkyrie had scolded him for later- and he hadn't broken anything. Granted, he hadn't hit any of the targets either.
"Breaching now." He declared over the secured communications link, reaching forward quickly to activate the door, and quickly retracting his left hand to have it support the stock of his rifle as he moved into the room; grip tight on his rifle, but finger on the trigger guard. As he stepped into the room, his helmet, which had all of its settings on automatic for the moment, immediately adjusted for the difference between the light in the hallway and the light inside the holding cell.
Within a moment, Tyler had frozen where he stood, still partly in the hallway as he took in the sights before him with wide, chocolate eyes. When he had breached the place, he had been expecting to find three prisoners on the ground, maybe bound with restraints in proper order.
Not...suspended in the air by mass effect fields like bloody pieces of meat on hooks. And they were certainly bloody. The trio -two men, one woman- looked as if they had seen some serious torture at the hands of the Church. "Holy shit," Tyler muttered darkly as he lowered his weapon, and stepped the rest of the way into the room with much more trepidation than beforehand, so that Valkyrie could enter as well. "Look, they're still here…" He muttered, though loud enough for his helmet's microphone to pick it up. It probably sounded like a dumb thing to say, but it was all his brain could seem to come up with in this moment with the fresh hell that was the prisoner's current conditions filling his vision.
Glancing over, he saw Valkyrie fumble with the room's controls for a moment, that were currently being displayed on an aerogel screen. All it took was a few taps for the rooms overhead lights to flicker on, and flood the small space with artificial light, which gave them plenty more to work with now.
"Fucking hell," it was little more than a murmur from Valkyrie as she turned her entire attention back to the three prisoners. Her steps into the room were tentative, as she sized up each of them. Behind her helmet, her mismatched eyes, honed after years of special forces medic work, were doing the best they could to assess the extent of everyone's injuries without actually touching them or using her scanner. Quietly, she reached up to snap her rifle onto the magnetic rails on her back, apparently confident that they were not in any sort of immediate danger.
"They look like hell, you think they're still alive?" Tyr asked as he followed her lead, putting his Phaeston away. Because I have no idea what I'm looking at here. He mused quietly, grimly, knowing that his companion was much more knowledge in the field of medicine.
"I really dunno," Valkyrie replied back, shrugging slightly, as she slung her medical kit from off of her back. With them still suspended in mid-air, she didn't even know what to grab out of her little bag of tricks. Bone regenerator? Medigel? Stimulants? Antibiotics? The list could go on and on as long as she was playing the guessing game. "Hey, you, any of you three alive yet?" She decided to call out bluntly.
Chocolate eyes darting, Tyler glanced between the three suspended figures before him rapidly, looking for any signs of life as he rested a hand on the pistol holstered at his side. He felt oddly useless here, there was nothing that he was really capable of doing and-there! It wasn't much, but he saw one of the nameless men raise his head, at least enough that Tyler could make out some of his faint facial features.
And for the life of him, the Cerberus operative swore that he saw a flinch from the figure. Maybe a look of fear as well, or possible even anger. Tyler really couldn't tell, because his body sagged just as quickly as it went taut with life. "Hey, I think this guy is alive," Tyler said as he walked towards the man, flexing his gloved fingers. "Or at least conscious anyways," the American paused before the hanging man, still a couple of feet away from the pulsing pylon.
Blinking, Tyler studied him more closely now. There was just something about this one, that was different from the rest. Maybe it was the look, or maybe it was the aura that seeped out of him, in a way that didn't exactly make the operative feel comfortable. "Hey buddy, have I, ah, seen you somewhere before?" Tyr asked the man, ignoring the sudden and uncanny urge to reach for his rifle again.
"P-please help h-him!" Tyr startled at the sharp and pained reply. It didn't come from the man hanging before him, but from the woman suspended to to the side, in a similar predicament. Her voice sounded like hell, all choppy and pain filled, and it started the absolute hell out of the Cerberus operative. "C-Cerbe...help him...B-Boss's…"
"Holy shit and gods above, she's…" Tyler trailed off for a moment, voice a mix of stunned and horrified. Barely alive and sounds like she deserves to be put out of her misery, was his grim but honest afterthought. Looking over at Val, who was standing beside him now, his eyes were a bit wider. "Val, we've got to get them down from here somehow, they need help."
The Icelandic woman's nod was tight, and her voice venomous, practically a hiss in agreement. "No shit sherlock. Go find the switch, then. I may have plenty of gear, but this is an industrial grade suspension pylon meant for maximum security prisoners. Not something I can exactly break through, at least without killing them." She pointed out, her golden eyebrows raised for emphasis, though Tyler couldn't tell with her helmet covering her face.
"Right, right, got it." Tyr replied quickly, stepping away from the trio of prisoners and Val. His eyes were fixated at the back of the room, where there looked to be a small security terminal of some time. He paused, and raised a hand slightly. "Ah...where exactly do you think I could find such a switch?"
Valkyrie's shoulder shook, but it wasn't with laugher. Instead, it was with frustration, and even some exhaustion stemming from the whole situation. "Fuck if I know, just look for a lever or something." It was a rather supervillain way of keeping someone locked in, with a lever controlled device, but stranger things had happened, she knew. But it wasn't her concern for the moment. "Who the hell are you people?" She asked as she turned to face the three prisoners, hip cocked in a fashion all too Miranda-esque for the blonde's own liking.
"Help…Boss, you…b-bi…he's fucking…d-d-dyi…" The hanging woman cried out in pain, eyes full of panic and fear now as she looked over at the third, hanging member of her group. The man she was staring at looked to be the worst off, pale and unmoving, with a puddle of blood that had long since formed at his feet. Opening her mouth, the female prisoner tried to speak again, only to cough up blood that dribbled down her throat and onto her clothing. There was a grimace from her, along with fresh surge of panic. "P-please!" She finally managed to get out desperately.
"Val, I found it! Found the release!" Tyr called out from deeper in the room, motioning to the control panel before him. True to her word, there was in fact a release lever. It was a small one though, more akin to a joystick than what you would have expected to find in an action vid.
The Icelandic medic was silent for a moment as she rolled her armored shoulders. From all of the practically non-stop combat over the last hour or two, she could feel her muscles wanting to get tense. "Alright," she called back. "Pull 'em down, and I'll catch these guys." She called out, feeling the all so familiar crackle of biotic energy flowed through her veins, encasing her armor in the familiar azure haze that she had known since she was a child.
"Roger dodger," Tyr replied back, southern drawl thicker for a moment as he leaned down to interface with the control systems. He was very careful about gripping the lever and releasing it, due to the fact that there was an option to 'purge' the room located only a couple of inches away. Whatever that entailed, he really did not want to find out.
Glancing back over his shoulder, Stevens watched as Valkyrie carefully wrapped her biotics around the three prisoners and lowered them to the ground before their stasis pylons. When they had all safely been set on the ground, the blonde Cerberus operative ceased in glowing blue, and reached for her medical kit.
Valkyrie pointed at the largest of the three, who looked to be the worst off of them. The large pool of blood that had formed around the base of his pylon suggested to Tyler that the man didn't have much time left if he wasn't treated immediately. "Alright, I'm going to leave this big guy in a stasis. Because he looks like he's lost a fuck-ton of blood. I'm guessing that's 'Boss', right?"
Watching the female Alliance soldier, all she got in response was a tired, wary nod as the woman glanced between herself, and Tyr to the side. Not thinking much of it, Valkyrie sighed and walked over to Boss, her boots making a sickly wet sound as she stepped through a pool of blood on the ground. She found the least bloody spot next to the man, and dropped down to a kneel. Valkyrie shrugged off her combat pack, and dug around for a few moments, until she managed to dig out her medical scanner. Best to get an overview of the patient first, and see what she was working with.
When the scan was down, she frowned under her helmet, mismatched eyes darting over the readouts for a moment, before she sat the device aside and began to dig through her combat pack for her medical supplies. Given that she was a hopeful thinker when it came to patients, she gave him about a fifty-percent chance of living. Needless to say, however, he wasn't looking all that good at the moment.
"Alright, Tyr, you get those other two on their feet. Was probably their armor that we saw back there too. I'll see if I can stabilize the big guy." Her voice was calm over the communication line, but she knew it could have very well been shaky, with all the different chemicals coursing through her body at the moment, coupled with all of the information running through her mind. Years of combat medicine kicking in, as she forced herself to be steady.
"Right," Stevens replied slowly, and enthusiastically, as he eyed the other two. Slowly, he approached them, wariness flashing in his eyes behind his visor. For whatever reason, he didn't quite feel comfortable around these former prisoners. There was something about them, that he simply identified as wrong. "So, who the hell are you guys, anyways?" The Cerberus operative asked as he regarded the two unknowns before him.
For all his skills when it came to perception, one thing that Tyr did not expect was for one of the prisoners he had helped rescued...to spit on him. And that was exactly what the battered man did. Immediately, the Cerberus operator recoiled, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and a wave of sudden anger, as he reached up to wipe at the thick glob of saliva and blood that was slowly sliding down his visor. "Son of a fuck!" Tyler hollered in surprise as he wiped his helmet clean, grimacing when he realized that he was doing more spreading than he was actual cleaning.
"What wrong now?" Valkyrie question from where she knelt, emphasizing the last word in particular. It wasn't as if enough had gone wrong already.
"Bastard spat on me," Tyr hissed out as he flipped his hand over, to use the back of his glove to wipe the spittle away now. He met a bit more success this way. "I swear, if this is the reward for bailing these guys out, I'm all for fucking leaving them here." His voice was a mix of exapersareted and frustrated, as he glared at the two other prisoners behind his helmet.
"You're an adult, Tyr, deal with it." Valkyrie retorted sternly from where she knelt, her black and white gloves now coloured red with the blood of the injured man that she was trying to stabilize. "We're wearing insignias inside a Church base, did you really think we'd be getting a 'thank you' for this?" She questioned with an almost rueful tone. Almost.
"Wasn't expecting to get fucking spat on…" Tyr trailed off in a grumbling tone.
"Y-you're ...not with the…" The injured female prisoner began slowly, as she looked between the two Cerberus operatives with suddenly wide eyes.
"-the Church?" Valkyrie cut in, looking up for only a moment. She shook her head minutely. "Hardly."
"Thank God," the woman replied, letting out what sounded like a long sigh of relief to Steven's ears. For only a moment, he did feel pity for her and her people. He couldn't imagine being held captive at the hands of the Church, and as he glanced at Val, he didn't want to even consider what the sick zealots could have come up with for means of torture. "But then...why are you…" The woman picked up, and Stevens directed his attention back to her.
"Here?" Valkyrie interrupted her again. "That's classified. What's important is that the Church doesn't like you three, meaning that we do. Probably...anyways, who the heck are you people?"
"That's...classified." The female prisoner grinned, flashing rows of teeth, or at least what she had left of them. Tyr winced at the sight and understanding that she had lost at least a couple, towards the front at that, which didn't exactly make for the prettiest picture. Not to mention the fact that she had blood caked around her mouth, like some kind of mad animal. She glanced over at the worst of them all, still on the ground as Valkyrie did whatever her medical training dictated to keep her patient alive. "Boss…"
"He's lost a lot of blood," Valkyrie replied, more quietly now as she dipped her head back down to focus on the task before her. Every eye in the room was suddenly on her now, as guards slipped for a moment, replaced by concern. "Pray for him, ah, if that's your thing, but we don't have enough Medigel to fix this…" She trailed off grimly, glancing at her combat pack. Theoretically, they would have had enough on hand to fix him up and then some, but her extra supplies had been lost when the shuttle had crashed.
"Armor," the male prisoner rasped out suddenly, causing both Tyr and Val to glance over at him. He sounded like he may have been in pain, which was understandable, given the conditions that he had just been freed from. "Bacta-dispensers in the suits...somewhere," he finished after an elongated moment.
Valkyrie's head tilted to the side in confusion. "Bacta? You mean bacteria?" She questioned, having no idea what he was talking about. She'd read any number of medical journals over the years, hell, in the last week she'd been up to her eyeballs in them. But never before had she heard of bacta, much less what it was or why there would be dispensers for it built into hardsuits.
"Wait...bacta." Tyr muttered under his breath, eyes going wide as he stared down at the man. Surely...it couldn't be what he was thinking. Not bacta as in the healing solution from Star Wars, that was farfetched, wasn't it? But yet, he had learned not to question things too much anymore these days. He was in a universe that he didn't belong in after all, and working as a special operations trooper at that. "You mean like, that green stuff used in tanks?" He asked, going out on a limb.
"Got it...in the armor. He's right…" The female prisoner croaked out, weakly nodding in affirmation. She blinked, slowly and lethargically, as if in thought for a moment. "Find his armor...gotta have...it somewhere." Her words were slow and measured, it apparent that she needed to focus to get out every word in a clear and understandable way.
"What the fuck's bacta, if you don't mind me...never mind. Yeah, we found three sets of armor not matching what the Church's using. One Bulwark and a pair of modified Phase-II's. Those your's?" Val questioned as she stood, only to bend at the waist and roll Boss over onto his back. "Tyr, get the Bulwark back here, and make it quick," she ordered in a clipped tone, not even seeming to think on it twice.
"On it," Tyr replied in a clipped tone, glancing over his shoulder for only a moment to study Val before he rose up. In a single, fluid motion he reached down and drew his pistol from the magnetic strip on the outer thigh plate of his armor, checking to make sure that it was fully loaded. Pushing off from where he stood, swearing as he made a beeline for the door. "Fucking hell, shouldn't have gone down here, shouldn't have gone down here...Altruism and all that other fucking bulltshit," he groused loudly as he exited the holding cell.
Once again, Tyr found himself in the main prisoner administration area of the base, as eerily deserted as it had been earlier. His first couple of strides were almost automatic, one foot being placed before the other, as he carried himself across the room. He never quite made it to the main exit, however, before his feet seemed to give out under him. Stumbling forward, he managed to catch himself on one of the metal walls of the room before he fell to the ground, and bracing his arms against the wall, he forced himself to stay in an upright position. Through the external speakers of his helmet, which he hadn't taken the time to turn off during his flight from the room, the sounds of labored breathing could be heard.
His mind raced at a supersonic pace, but he felt as if the rest of his body was suspended in time. Behind his visor, his chocolate brown orbs were wide and panicked, as seemingly hundreds -if not thousands- of images were projected before his very eyes. Flashbacks to the Citadel, to the shore leave gone wrong, where he had come face-to-face with the demon that was Thomas Fisher and his team. While a lot had happened there, ranging from Tyler roughing up who he was certain to be Jane Shepard, to even shooting Ashley Williams in the chest, the thing that had truly been imprinted in his mind was the run-in with Fisher himself.
He'd never talked about it with anyone, not even Val who had questioned if he was 'okay' for days after the incident, but his mind had been plagued at night with memories of Thomas Fisher. Unlike in the movies or books, the nightmares were never quite the same, however there certainly was a pattern to them. Sometimes, he would never quite make it to the extraction point, perhaps he would trip in one instance, or there happened to be a faceless, vengeful Alliance soldier waiting around a corner to stop him in his tracks. Whenever that happened, Thomas would always catch him a few moments later, and the death he suffered was always painful. Being ripped limb from limb, or simply roasted alive as he cackled on evily in the background.
Admittedly, those weren't the worst of the scenarios Tyr's subconscious had ever conjured up. In other cases, he wasn't the one to die. Sometimes it was his teammates, Jacob or Miranda as an example, who had somehow managed to get up to the Presidium to help assist him. In those instances, Thomas always left his broken but no dead on the ground, choosing to dispatch of the two Cerberus officers while he could only watch in his pseudo-broken state. The raven haired Aussie's death was always the hardest to watch, perhaps even more painful than his own, because Tyr's mind always played out the situation in the most gruesome ways possible.
It didn't help that he had become intimately familiar with the smell of burning flesh over the last few months.
And then, of course, there was Anna. The fair-haired Icelandic medic that he had been working alongside for some time now...and who he had likely gotten attached to most of all. He would have considered her the closest thing he had to a sister, if not for the fact that he had some rather...inappropriate thoughts about her in the past. Not to mention their little morning in the cave mere hours ago.
Sometimes she would tumble from the aircar at the rendezvous point, and when that happened, she and Tyler were both screwed seven ways to Sunday. At the hands of Thomas, they never really stood a chance, even when working together to desperately fend him off while chaos reigned around them. If Tyr didn't die right off the bat, the demon always seemed to allude that he had a fate worse for Anna than simple death…
"Alex," the Cerberus operative grunted out, nearly scaring himself with how low and emotional his voice was. There was definitely anger lacing his tone, but there was also confusion, even bewilderment as well. "What-the-hell-is-going-on?" He forced out a moment later, each statement short and deliberate, deep breaths in between the two sentences.
Just as quickly as they had begun, the images ground to a halt, the sudden ache that had arisen in his head now easing. There was no longer a torrent of information now, instead replaced by a pair of images alongside each other now, displayed in his conscious like one could have expected out of picture frames. To the left was the menacing figure of Thomas before he had turned into the human torch...and to the right was the image of the battered, broken prisoner Tyr had just helped free. As he began to study the images, an involuntary gasp of shock escaped his lips, the inklings of understanding beginning to seep into his fatigued and heavily stressed mind.
"I see that you've already begun to unravel our little mystery," the Aspect of War commented as he materialized next to his charge. Had he felt any emotion, his tone would have likely been one of dry amusement. Looking down at the Cerberus operative, still on the ground, he shook his head. "Pick yourself up. It's unbecoming of someone of your stature to be a mess like this." He said in a flat tone, before suddenly yanking Tyr to his feet, holding the former marine up until he was steady on both legs.
"Alex! What the fuck?!" Tyr hissed as he wheeled around to face the aspect. There was so much about this situation that didn't make sense, from the flashbacks, to the fact that he couldn't ever remember a time when he had physically felt the god of war touch him. He was nearing a state of sensory overload, left in a limbo state of semi-blind as the pair of images seemed to remain imprinted onto his eyelids. "What-what-what is going on?" Stevens stuttered over his own words in haste.
"For the love of the Maker, relax," the Aspect replied in a grumbly tone, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're not going to be of any use to anyone if you remain erratic like this, and it's not like you're running on an unlimited amount of time in the first place. Surely, someone will notice the communications outage sooner or later," Alexander went on, while his charge huffed and puffed behind his helmet. "Now, humor me, though I am certain you already know. Study the images, and tell me what you see."
Befuddlement would have been expected of a normal person, given the sudden turn of events and copious amounts of new information. However, Stevens couldn't quite be considered 'normal' in the sense anymore, not after everything he had gone through in the last few months. He had learned to rapidly adapt to situations, both in the marine corp earlier in his life, and more recently to survive intense combat missions and training scenarios.
"The left," Tyr grunted out, slowly getting his breathing under control. "That's...that's Thomas Fisher. The fucking demon himself. Scourge of Cerberus and all that shit."
"And on the right?" Alexander questioned. Likely redundant at this point, but humans were such a finicky species to work with. Not as bad as the Protheans, though, at least according to the Aspect who had handled their cycle. Apparently they were inclined to believe that they were the smartest species to ever grace the universe, regardless of what evidence there was to disprove that, and in turn they had not been keen to listen to advice. At least until the bitter end, when it had been too late to save themselves.
There was a flash of anger in Tyr's eyes, and for a moment, the Aspect of War actually readied himself to stop his charge in case the young fool decided it so prudent to turn around and rush back into the holding cell. He didn't in the end, but was quick to curl and uncurl his armored fists at his side. "Thomas. Thomas fucking Fisher." He growled, voice low and dangerous. His tone had always been on the low end of the baritone scale, and when fused with emotions such as he felt now, he could be rather intimidating.
To non-immortals, anyways.
"Correct," was the simple answer of the Aspect, nodding his head slowly as he spoke. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Tyr was already speaking again.
"That shithead is in there with Anna," the operative growled as he reached for his sidearm which had fallen in front of feet when he had first tumbled to the ground. He was already turning as he scooped up the weapon. "He'll die before he touches her."
"Stop." Alex's command was like a crack of thunder. It echoed through Tyler's head, shook his very soul. It was only a few moments later that the Cerberus operative realized that he couldn't move. It was as if a thousand arms were reaching out to grab him from all directions; holding him in place with a godly force that no power in the universe could resist. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Stevens?" The demigod may not have been one for many emotions, but he sure as hell sounded angry now.
"I'm-I'm-I'm." Tyler stumbled over his words, mind a mess as he glanced back and forth, eyes wild behind his visor. "Going to kill that fucker. Dead, really fucking dead. If you would just let me go do it," the marine growled. A muscle in his index finger twitched, but other than that, he was stuck.
A muscle twitched in the cheek of Alex's current appearance, his eyes narrowing in displeasure. Reaching up, the demigod struck the back of his charge's head. Hard. It would have been a knockout blow, if not for Tyler's armor and heavily modified body systems. "Just when I think I make progress, you decide to go and lose your temper over something so...unimportant." The aspect grumbled, crossing his arms in a way that a parent scolding a child might have. "Now, listen to what I have to say, because I don't plan to repeat myself. Understand?"
"Fucking prick," Tyr retorted sharply through grit teeth.
Grunting, the Aspect decided not even to acknowledge the venomous words. Putting on a much more reserved, regal tone, he started speaking once more. "First of all, Fisher isn't going to hurt Miss Fredasdottirr. She is the only one in this entire base who is capable -and inclined, for that matter- of rendering medical expertise to his injured friend. Boss, as he is known. More importantly, your teammate is more than capable of handling herself. Do you not remember how she tossed you like a salad the last time that you touched hands?" All that Alex got in response was stony silence, which was more than enough confirmation. "Perhaps she would need assistance if Mister Fisher was at full strength. But you saw the state that he and his female companion were in. It is unlikely that he could withstand more than one or two of Miss Fredasdottirr's simple jabs. Simple, non-biotically enhanced ones at that."
The Aspect actually paused for a moment, taking in a slow breath of cool air. He knew everything that he intended to say, and could have kept going, but the humanoid body function was a good way of breaking up long pieces of dialogue. "Aside from that, whether you like it or not, we need Mister Fisher in our corner of the proverbial ring. He is extraordinarily powerful...beyond even what capabilities that my brother has augmented him with. Not everyone could have survived what he has and then emerge intact, both mentally and physically. He is who -you- should strive to be, not antagonize because you hold some kind of petty grudge." There was a short pause, before he added. "Do I make myself clear, charge?"
"Yes." The response couldn't have been anymore forced, even if there had been a pistol pressed to the side of Tyler's skull. Turning away from the direction he had been facing -the holding cell zones- he lowered his sidearm, but did not holster it. Casting a final glance over his shoulder, he gave Alex a hard look from behind his visor. "Don't expect me to trust that fucker though. At all."
"I never implied that I wanted you to. Just that something akin to a working relationship would be preferred." The Aspect's tone was calm again as he crossed his thick arms over the armored chest plate that he wore. "The Master...disapproves of when his Aspects conflict with one another. Their charges trying to, or even successfully, killing one another would be received even worse, I imagine." It was truly a divine mystery, as it was something that had never happened before.
"I imagine so." Tyr grunted as he began moving through the winding halls of the Church base, sweeping every corridor that he passed with the kind of precision that Cerberus demanded out of one of their operatives. "How are we looking, Alex?" He questioned as he took a pause; swapping his pistol for his assault rifle as he went. Immediately, he loaded a concussive shot. Church members were as heavily armored as fanatical, it seemed, and it would take more than a few shots from his Phaeston to put them down. "Should I expect any company?"
"The base is far from abandoned, if that is what you're asking." The Aspect hummed in reply, having stepped away from the physical realm quite some time ago. He was -everywhere- now, seeing all that went on inside the base. "The path back to the command and control center appears to be clear; however, at least for the moment. The Church forces that remain are too busy locking down and fortifying the zones they already control. I will alert you if they dispatch any patrols."
"Acknowledged." The commando replied shortly as he took off down the hall, following the waypoint markers that were displayed on a small map built into his helmet's heads-up-display. The path was neither long nor particularly complicated, though it had felt that way when they had first advanced towards the prisoner block of the installation. Mostly because Anna had been more intered on a slow, deliberate advance, rather than a rush that would have left them open if the Church decided to interdict them, or even deploy some kind of hidden traps.
"Command center still clear?" Tyr finally asked as he rounded the final corner, rifle at the ready. Dead ahead was the door that led to the room, security door still open like they he and Valkyrie had left and locked it.
"I would have informed you if it wasn't." Alexander replied immediately, tone dry. "Their armor is being stored in a locker that you and Miss Fredasdottirr failed to investigate. I've added it to your mini-map."
Sure enough, as Tyr stepped into the room, an additional white blip appeared on his HUD. Moving towards it, he spied a wide, head-high locker that appeared to be fitted with a biometric lock of some kind. Before the commando could even activate the hacking program on his omni-tool, a click of confirmation filled the air, followed quickly by the welcoming flash of a green light that indicated the locker had been opened.
"Time is not a currency you have much of, at the moment. You can thank me later." Alexander said, sounding somewhat amused as he materialized next to Tyr. Bedecked in his Cerberus, his chocolate brown eyes -so similar to those of his charge- were hidden behind a polarized visor.
Finally, the bastard is useful for once. Stevens mentally chuckled at that notion as he opened up the locker with a gloved hand. The interior format of it was pretty much the galactic standard. The broad compartment was divided into smaller sections, each of which had a specific purpose; whether it be hanging up a helmet, or locking a chestplate into place so that it could be pulled on again quickly if a situation called for it. The lowest shelves were laden with greaves of various kinds, along with: weapons, omni-tools, and other pieces of less important kit.
Finding Boss' armor was easier than he had expected, due to the sole fact that his body armor (along with the other Alliance soldiers', for that matter) was wholly lacking in Church emblems or paint schemes. Whoever had stripped them out of it had apparently taken the time to properly store their equipment as well. Tyr suspected it would be for further inspection at a later date, but on the other hand, what did he know? For all he knew, maybe the Church just liked to think smart and salvage enemy gear.
"Let's see here. Bacta...bacta, where would you be?" The operative mumbled under his breath as he began to sort through Boss' set of armor. It was much bulkier than his own, and its metal-like pouches were stuffed with quite a bit of hardware Tyr considered to be non-essential at the moment. "Jesus Christ, how many pockets does this thing have?"
"If I may suggest something." Alexander began, having watched his charge toil over the hardsuit for the better part of a minute by this point. "There are seabags for carrying armor in the drawer in the storage drawer to your left. I would recommend just stuffing all of the armor into there, and sorting everything out when you return to Boss' location. He will undoubtedly need his armor as well if he is to survive his injuries."
The operative paused for only a short moment of thought. It was something that he should have thought about earlier, really. Pretty much any military grade hardsuit worth mentioning these days was fitted with a trauma and medical module of some kind. They were meant to keep soldiers stable until they could be attended to by a medic, as well as assist said medical technicians while they worked, by doing this such as monitoring vital signs and providing information about what kind of injuries a soldier had sustained.
"Good thinking, Alex." Was all Tyler replied as he shifted to open up a drawer, which was filled with neatly folded and stacked armor-carrying bags.
A minute passed. And then another, as frustration built all the while. Apparently, whoever had designed these seabags had done so with Church knock-off hardsuits in mind, not something heavier and bulkier than the Bulwark armor that Boss utilized. After several tears in the strong synthetic fabric, and more than a few curses, Tyr finally managed to stuff the armor into the bag. It was a jumbled mess, but it would have to do for now.
"Are you going to take their omni-tools as well?" Alexander questioned as he continued to study the locker. Said omni-tools, along with ear-bud like translators, remained stored in study looking metal boxes with translucent tops.
"Yeah." Stevens grunted back at the aspect as he slung the durable bag over his shoulder, worrying on his bottom lip for a moment as he shifted his stance a little to accommodate the weight. He had honestly been expecting the fabric to fully rip, and the armor to fall to the floor. "Leaving behind intel for the Church to recover is not something I want to do. Even if it is...Alliance related." The commando added as he leaned down slowly, opening each box. Collected them carefully in his large hands, he slipped them into a pouch on the side of his right thigh.
"I am sure Miss Lawson would be voicing her disapproval of your methods right about now. You don't need to omni-tool themselves to recover data, just their hard drives."
That...made Tyler pause for a moment as he closed the locker. Stealing data from the Alliance cockskulls back there had never been on his agenda, but now that Alex mentioned it, he had heard worse ideas. He had already siphoned what he could from the Church's computer banks. What would a few measly terabytes of information from Thomas fucking Fisher and his little gang hurt? Suddenly, the Cerberus operative was more keen on just prying the devices open to salvage their data cores (Something Loki had showed him how to do), but alas, he was lacking on anti-static bags at the moment. Or a safe means of keeping the delicate drives safe outside of the omni-tools themselves.
"There will be time for that latter, when there isn't a life on the line." Possible enemy or not, Stevens was going to do his best to prevent Boss' death. Val would skin him alive for that, since Cerberus apparently had a medical board to investigate deaths that occurred while combat medics were present. Not to mention the whole Thomas Fisher thing.
For what it was worth, Alexander seemed to accept that answer; winking out of existence again as Tyr moved out into the hallway once more, and back the way he came.
The trek back to the holding cells was as uneventful as it was to the command center, though it taught the operative a rather valuable lesson- armor felt a lot fucking heavier when you were carrying it. And that was saying something. Between his time in the marine corp and Cerberus -cybernetics upgrades notwithstanding- he had gotten accustomed to lugging around some heavily loaded kits. But Christ on a crutch, Boss must have really been eating his wheaties, because his gear had to have weighed more than Stevens did.
The only reason that the operative wasn't a complete redfaced mess of sweat, was the undersuit that he wore underneath his own Phase-II combat armor. Integrated smart-foam, which cushioned falls and could save him in the event of rapid decompression, also worked wonders; soaking up sweat efficiently, while keeping his body temperature regulated all the while.
"Danik's working with Rho." The sound of a masculine voice caused Tyr's head to snap up in surprise for a moment. The door to the cell had been left open, but even so, it still seemed a bit far away for him to hear voices so clearly. Did Val forget to switch off her short range radio broadcasts? Though he still knew very little about the finer aspects of Cerberus communications gear, at least when compared to someone born in the current era, it made sense to him.
Regardless, Thomas Fisher continued speaking, voice rough and unpleasant to the operative's ears. "Rho's the Reaper responsible for the Collectors, the attack on the Normandy, the massacre on the Ishimura...he's leading the Church, now. Its why we have to find Danik. And then likely kill him again, because nothing stays dead these days." A disgruntled sound followed the end of his already dry statement.
"That's…" Slowing his pace out of curiosity, Tyr could all but imagine Val glancing up so that she could glance between the others in the room. "...not exactly comforting. But, why do you think we were…?" Her voice trailed off in mild confusion.
"Oh, no one figured out why we came for that Seven…sevens…Stevens dude?" The blonde soldier, whose name Tyr hadn't learned yet, chuckled; "Intelligence figured there was another dark aspect runnin' around or somethin', and somehow they tracked down that Steve guy."
"Stevens." Val corrected, the sounds of low, electric hiss filled the air again as Tyler drew closer to the door. There was a pause, before her tone became full of suspicion. "And what do you mean by 'dark aspect?'"
"Yeah, what do you mean?" Tyler accidentally blurted out. Biting back a grimace at such a forward statement, he decided now was as good a time to enter, stepping into the entryway as both of the wounded Alliance soldiers fixed their gazes on him.
"Took you fucking long enough." Val hissed as she looked up at her partner-in-crime, eyes narrowed behind her emotionless visor as she ignored his question entirely. "I'm literally burning this guy's leg just to stop the bleeding." The medic added as she held up a surgical laser. Normally meant for for cutting through armor (or anything else hard for that matter, like bone and augmented muscle), she had turned the power down to its lowest setting, making for a jerry-rigged cauterizer.
"Have you tried…" Tyler grunted as he shuffled into the room, setting the armor filled bag next to her with a massive clank. "...carrying one of these things before? They're fucking heavy."
"Stop complaining, will you?" The Icelandic soldier muttered as she unzipped the bag and began to ruffle through it, finding the armor's back-systems. They were still sealed and uncompromised, which was a good start. Though she couldn't pry it open with her hands, it wasn't anything that her multi-tool couldn't handle. "What'd you say bacta was?" She asked as she glanced up at Tyr.
"Some sort of healing solution, better than medi-gel sometimes...I think." Tyler shrugged, not caring to get all that deep into just how he knew what it was. Gaze shifting to Fisher, his stance instantly changed to one of tension. On instinct, he pulled the heavy pistol from his holster so quickly that he didn't even realize what it had done until the sights were focused squarely on the Demon's forehead.
"Put the gun down, cockskull." The blonde Alliance soldier growled, the corners of her mouth caked with dried blood. Despite her tone of voice, she didn't make a move, and for good reason. Wounded and out of her combat armor, with not even a low-grade shield generator to her name, she was pretty much defenseless. As was her comrade-in-arms. "Bitch, tell him to put the gun down."
"Tyr, why did you decide that we should save these people if you're just going to shoot him in the face?" Val muttered without looking up, a small drill on her muli-tool whirling. It was almost as if she didn't hear the insults that were being slung around.
"This guy strangled me half to death, chased me across the Presidium and tried to set me on fire, Anna!" Tyr growled, despite the conversation he had with his Aspect earlier, as Fisher took on a incredulous expression, as if he had been slapped with some kind of recognition. "If I'd known he was here, I'd have said we should've just bombed the place."
"You're not being very constructive here, Tyr." Val grumbled, drawing out on the word as she pulled a clear-ish vial of something from Boss' backpack. It was in the medical port, where medigel normally went, so it was good enough for her. "Fucking face that we're here for the same thing, then you can murder each other after we're done…Fucking Surt's ballsack, I knew something like this was bound to happen."
"You people are-"
"Saving your asses." Val cut him off sharply, glaring at him from behind her visor as she turned her attention on the Dane. Looking up at Tyr, she briefly glowed blue as her free hand wrapped around his forearm. "Now help me with this bacta, Tyr, since you actually seem to know what it is." There was no question in her words, and the yank she gaze a half-second later only reinforced that, as she brought the commando down to his armored knees with a loud thud.
"Anna, what the-"
"Shut up, Tyr." The Icelandic medic barked before he could finish, the iciness in her tone causing his jaw to snap shut and chocolate brown eyes widen in surprise. As he opened his mouth to speak again, she cut him off with a sharp rise of the hand, even as the other pried at the smartfoam of Boss' bodysuit; revealing planes of smooth, but frighteningly pale skin. "You're acting like a child, and I'm getting sick of it. I'm working my ass of to save a patient that is bleeding the fuck out, and you won't swallow your petty pride for ten goddamn nanoseconds."
Behind his visor, Tyler couldn't help but gawk at the medic for a moment, mouth literally parted as he took in her angry form. In the past, he had seen her upset, disgruntled even, but never like there. He could all but feel the anger radiating off her in waves, biotics crackling in the air around them as she breathed heavily. Worst of all, none of these emotions were directed at the Alliance soldiers.
No.
They were wholly focused on him.
Somewhere in the back of his head, the voice of Alex could be heard, nagging at him. But whatever was said, Tyler Stevens ignored it. Head dipping down to her hands, where a vial of bacta was clutched tightly, he felt cowed under her stare. Taking a deep breath, he felt her stiffen, as if expecting some kind of fiery retort from him.
"I'm sorry, Anna." He murmured, just barely loud that his helmet's microphone picked it up.
There was no doubt in his mind that Thomas Fisher was to blame for much of his mental suffering in the past weeks and months, but now really shouldn't have been the time for that kind of emotional explosion. Grudges had no place on the battlefield. They got people killed. Perhaps it was what the Alliance didn't approve of relationships within the ranks of their combat units. "I shouldn't have acted like that." He admitted quietly, holding out a large, gloved hand to her. "Here..can I see that?"
The Icelandic medic looked at him for a long, hard moment, before she slowly met his hand in the middle, fingers brushing as she passed the small medical canister off to him. Like the medi-gel inserts for most military-grade hardsuits, it was made of plasteel. A double walled structure, with space for insulation in the middle, enabled the product within to remain unchanged, even in the face of extreme temperatures like what was found in a vacuum. Once he unscrewed the cap, Tyr was presented with a translucent, gelatinous substance that languidly slid back and forth as his hand moved.
Leaning over Boss's body, he grimaced for a moment. The actual injuries he had sustained could have been much worse, all things considered. But he had lost a lot of blood, much of which was pooled around him, and the fact that Val had turned him into the equivalent of human barbeque didn't exactly make the wounded soldier any easier on the eyes.
With some hesitant, Tyr tipped the vial to the side, watching as gel began to fill the crevices of wounds that Danik had created. "I don't know all that much about this stuff," he admitted quietly as he worked. Though no medic, between: the marines, Val, and Miranda, he had gotten his fair share of trauma related crash courses. "It's kinda like medi-gel, just a lot more effective at overall healing. While our stuff just patches you up, and keeps you alive; this'll do everything if you give it long enough, and apply enough. Repair fried nerves, heal badly damaged organs, and so on. Not sure what it will do about blood loss, but it's better than nothing."
"My translator isn't even picking up whatever language this is written in." Val murmured as she glanced from her partner, to the metallic packet in her hand. Every time she scanned it, all she got was an Error: Unrecognized Language or Dialect pop-up. Shaking her head, she tore at the package's perforated lines.
The product inside had to have been bandaging of some kind. Pristine and white, the edges of the fabric were soft to the touch, while the center of it was soaked with more of this 'bacta' gel. "Use this to wrap the wound." She instructed her comrade. Nodding wordlessly, he did as told, making sure that the bandage was tight before he moved on, this time to the charred section of Boss' leg.
For a few, long moments -perhaps minutes- the pair were silent as they worked on Boss, making sure that the afflicted areas of his body were treated. Finally though, Val broke the silence, placing a hand on Tyr's forearm. Immediately, he froze at her touch, watching her from the corner of his eyes. "I'm sorry for yelling." She started, more softly than before, as she switched over to a private communications link. "But...I've never seen you like that, Tyler." The way she emphasized his name only made him wince. "Waving your gun around? Throwing out death threats to the people we're trying to help? To someone unarmed and unarmored, at that. If that is what you're like when you're angry, then I don't like it. Not at all."
There was a moment of stillness, before a sigh escaped the former marine's lips as he looked back over at the medic; regarding her for a long moment as he rested on his haunches. "In retrospect, I'm not exactly proud of what I said. I ovvereacted, and I'm sorry." Mostly, anyways. Mostly sorry, because quite frankly, he couldn't deny the fact that a small part of him enjoyed the look in Fisher's eyes when the tables were turned, and his life was in Tyler's hands.
"It's alright. Just...don't let it happen again, m'kay? I'd hate to have to swear to Freya that I'd break your balls if you pulled that kind of stunt again."
Despite the fact that he couldn't see her face, Tyr was certain that he could hear the amusement of her tone. "You won't have to. Promise," he replied; punctuating that with a tap of his pinky to one of her bloodied bracers. Turning back to Boss, he faltered. "Er...I think I've done what I can, Val. I'm not doc like you."
"Mhmm, think you're right. Scoot." She replied, shifting over to take her place by Boss' torso "And I'm a medic, not a doctor."
"What's the difference?"
"Well," Val drawled; fumbling with her scanner to get a read on Boss' current status. "A doctor like Lawson cures people, or does some big research stuff. A medic like me? We just make people more comfortable...while they die."
"Oh, that really makes me feel better." Tyr couldn't help but snicker, pleased now more than ever that they were using private lines. He doubted Fisher or the other blonde she-bitch would like to hear them talking like this. "It explains your bedside manner though…"
"Jerk." Val replied replied with faux-hurt, huffing for effect as the scanner's results popped up the small screen. Like a switch had been flipped, she turned serious again, smiling disappearing as her lips pulled back into a thin line. "He is starting to stabilize, it appears. But he will in be in no condition to move anytime soon, assuming that he wakes up and lives for a few more hours. He's going to have to stay here, and I'm going to have to stay here to keep watch and monitor him."
"Suppose I gotta go and hunt the fucker that did this?" Tyler asked, glancing back at Thomas and the blonde she-bitch. "Guess I should take them with me too, huh?"
Val grunted quietly. "You know how I feel about you going off to pull some kind of 'lone wolf' routine." She replied, already reaching to the small of her back, where one of the CARs that they had found was secured on a magnetic strip. The medic paused to swallow, skin flushing as she looked over and realized that his eyes were focused more firmly on the curves of her armored backside, rather than the weapon she was holding. Shocked, Val had to work her jaw for a moment before words would come out. "H-here, take this. They're going to need some firepower of their own, unless you want to play bodyguard for them the whole time." She said, offering the unfolded assault rifle to Tyr.
The sound of her voice seemed to break him out of a trance, his eyes flickering up to gaze at her faceplate for a moment, before he slowly accepted the weapon. Their fingers brushed for a moment, before he hesitantly pulled away. Unfolding the rifle, he gave the woman a small nod. "We won't be a moment longer than we have to be." He promised, wanting to get off this frozen rock as much as she did. "If you need help, any at all, don't hesitate to say the word."
"Appreciated." Glowing blue, the medic held up her arm, watching as wisps of warpfire burned safely in her palm before dying away just as quickly as they had been summoned. "But I'm a L5x and more of a warrior than you'll ever be." The grin was clear in her voice, this time. "I think I can handle myself long enough for you to go off and kill some two bit fanatical chump."
"Maybe I need to give you a lone wolf talk when we get back to the station." Tyler teased as he stood up, rolling his shoulders, and then kicking his legs back and forth for a moment, waiting for some of the circulation to return to him. "Godspeed, Anna."
"Till Valhalla, Tyler."
Turning, the Cerberus operative looked sharply at the pair of Alliance soldiers for a moment. They were both talking in low, hushed tones that his microphone wouldn't even pick up. "Hey, you two ready to go?" His call at least got a response from them, as both heads snapped in his direction. "Val's going to stay here with your teammate, but we should get going, try to find out where the hell their leader is. You mentioned Jacob Danik, right? Means he's here on the base?"
"He is...yeah." Fisher confirmed, rising to his feet, presumably with some difficulty. The operative had to give the Demon credit where it was due, he was a tough bastard if he was already up and walking again. "He's the one that shot boss." The Alliance soldier glanced over for a moment. "You found his armor."
"Yeah, and yours too, I suppose…" Tyr nodded, even as he trailed off. No mention of his omni-tool...good. Ignorance is bliss, I hear, he mused silently. Shifting his grip of the now extended CAR, the operative showed the weapon to Thomas. "Which I guess means this one belongs to one of you too?"
It was, in fact, the CAR Thomas had been issued before they started the mission. The Alliance soldier recognized the weapon now, and felt a stinging irritation at seeing it in Cerberus' hands. Taking a step forward, he put his hand on the rifle, still in the grip of Stevens. "Yes. It's mine." He stated flatly, then bit down and as he felt like kicking himself; "Could I have it back, Stevens?"
Wordlessly, the operative handed it over, before pulling the Phaeston from his back again. The Turian rifle looked equally wrong in the hands of a Cerberus operative, at least in the eyes of Thomas, but he had no argument beyond that, and didn't care to comment. Nodding while glaring at the space above Stevens' visor, he motioned for the man to lead them.
The operative did so a moment later, only after tossing the blood caked blonde her own rifle with much less fanfare. Stepping out of the containment room, they were greeted with boring, gun-metal grey walls, and floors that shifted between metal grates and concrete slabs. Neither of which would be all that affected by waves massive amounts of blood, Tyler realized grimly as they began to walk.
Feeling a familiar tingle at the base of his skull, the operative tapped into his battle vision for a half second, eyes widening slightly at what he 'saw.' Coming to a sudden stop, he weighed his words carefully.
Listen, I don't work well if I have to worry about someone putting a bullet in my spine…" Stevens muttered awkwardly as they walked, Perhaps unconsciously -or not- the Demon was aiming his rifle at the Cerberus operative's leg, finger resting lightly on the trigger.
Said Alliance soldier didn't point the gun away, but he did remove the finger from the trigger-guard. Did the man have eyes on the back of his head? "So…if we could just declare a truce or something until we're done here…?" Tyr rambled on, glancing back towards the pair that trailed in his wake.
"You broke my superior's nose, shot my fiancé with an Assault rifle, then kicked me in the head, shot me multiple times, and threw me out of a speeding aircar."
"Oh…fuck, she's your…" Stevens groaned, slapping a hand to his visor in the universal 'oh shit' fashion. "Look, I was panicking and you all came at me with guns. I just wanted to buy some stuff and all of a sudden you all just…She…she survived, right? Williams?"
For almost two seconds, Thomas wondered why he found that question more odd than frustrating. When he finally realized the reason, it struck him hard enough that he couldn't voice his question before Hillary -the bloody blonde- did the same.
"How'd you know her name?" she demanded sharply, striding past Thomas to stare Stevens in the visor. "No one here's told you her name."
I…I…recognized her from a magazine." Stevens muttered, and then mentally groaned. Really, a magazine? Fucking idiot. Given the role she played in the universe, assuming anything he remembered about the games was even partially true by this point, than she had to have been more famous than a simple section in a magazine. "Look, does it matter how I know-"
"Yes, yes it does matter." Hillary scowled up at him; "But for now it can wait. We get our guns, find Danik and then we kill him till he dies. How does that sound for a plan?"
"…I'm fine with it." Stevens nodded, then seemed to stop himself from looking at Thomas too closely; "Are…ehm…are you good with-"
"Let's just get it done." He growled, glaring at the back of Steven's helmet; "but don't try anything, or I'll fucking murder you."
"…I swear, there's just no pleasing some people…" Stevens muttered under his breath.
Thomas ignored him as they began to clamber down the base's emotionless hallways again, determined to see through the mission, and then go home in one piece. If Stevens escaped this place alive, he should have considered it all the gratitude he was going to get.
And that is the end of that, at least for now, my dear readers. Expect another chapter to come out soon. After that, I can't make any promises for the main storyline, Roku is going to be busy with college and such, so the story as a whole will not necessarily be progressing quickly from that point on.
However, that does not mean that I won't be writing. I plan to do quite a bit of world building for Cerberus (I already have several chapters complete) and several intermission pieces that will add to the universe we are building, and give you lovely folks something to read. Expect these in the near future as well.