Chapter 6: A Hurtful Revelation

A few hours later...

Location: Utopia System; Tenjo.

"I must say, Pardonner." Désir cooed from his selected position on the cabin's inbuilt couch arrayed in front of the holographic device. He had laid down on his belly with arms neatly folded in front for the head to rest on, the only truly feasible position that his huge spherical tail allowed without due tweaking about its positioning. Some might call it inconvenient, but the dôji of Lust was perfectly fine with it.

In fact, he reveled in it.

For him, the alternate position is just fit for prey. Prey for the predator to pin down and consume whole. And Désir prided himself on being the latter, even able to turn the likes of Vice into pliant blustering jelly with his alluring advances and teasing – though a few others does offer a good challenge.

"Your accommodation is entirely adequate." he squirmed at the couch, smiling widely in comfort.

Pardonner who stood with his back turned at the far side where the miniature kitchen was, focused almost fully on cooking their simple upcoming meal, shrugged. "Just don't melt into anything."

Désir hummed playfully, "I won't make any promises." his red and white eyes coming to rest on the form of Hikari who stood by his father, staring at the boiling sausages. Hot damn, but the fellow aspect did birth and raise a beautiful one this time. If not for his own principles not to advance on youngsters who have not yet felt the warmth of another dòji, and his attention was not on the kid's father, he would have been slightly envious of whoever would eventually claim him.

Many believe that he is very sexual-minded, and they are pretty much right. Quite a portion of his job revolved around the subject of carnal pleasures when there is no fighting to be done – both of which he can readily delve into with equal fervor. If he couldn't, he wouldn't exactly be the aspect of Lust now would he?

As of late, his primary contribution has been to encourage a population explosion for the upcoming war. A successful effort that allowed the people to be bolstered by hundreds of thousands, with more on the way.

It was far from his only project though, and a particularly important one is in the planning phase. But for now he wanted to focus on the immediate present, to try and get closer to the only aspect he for all his wiles had not yet been able to conquer.

Pardonner stood out from all the rest like some succulent meat locked away behind bars he could not pass. Not easily at least, but it has kept him at bay for many years. In many ways, this difficulty only made Pardonner look all the more attractive, more beautiful than even Ultimo could hope to be.

From his prone position, Désir sized up the dark-maned dôji's slender figure and quietly lusted. Only two things really spoiled the moment in such a way that it made him nervous. Pardonner is excellent in a great number of fields and is loved by many. He could heal and cure, has an implacable work ethic, is very handy in a fight and any number of other things. But there is one thing he just never could seem to get the hang of:

Cooking.

Désir reasoned that the simplicity of boiling sausages would be well within the fellow aspect's capability. But soon had a canary in a coal mine moment occur to him as Hikari suddenly withdrew to stand behind his father, just before the mental list of materials including the precise amount of U-235 or Pu-239 needed at the very least to produce a nuclear bomb came absently to mind as a sudden wave of radiation forced itself on his sensors, just as the pot's contents unceremoniously combusted.

With the aplomb of an exasperated soldier, he leaped to his feet and rushed to help as a cloud of steam blew through the apartment thick enough that it took a fair while to disperse so he could finally take a look into the pot and glance to the cook in impressed disbelief.

"Honestly you really must tell me sometime exactly how you can effect a miniature nuclear detonation with a pot of water, butter, some sausages, and a tea-spoon of salt."

Pardonner shot him an annoyed look, rubbing an accidentally gained moistness out of his hair as he glared back, none of his attention on the frightened son who held on from behind, "Shut up."

With a sneer on his lips, Désir took the pot and emptied its more or less butchered contents into the bin. It was not fit anymore for anyone's consumption, "The lead of Manhattan Project will probably give you a call soon from beyond the grave, to demand their achievement back."

"Shut up." the aspect of Patience repeated, unhappy with the teasing. "I just slipped..."

"I'm still getting radioactive readings from the pot." Désir toyed as he put it away, and searched the closets until he found and pulled out another one. Fortunately not all sausages were spent on the first attempt. He would have had to try and fill that space with something else if that had been the case.

Pardonner gave him a borderline hurt look. Unable to really argue away this most surprising development. So vulnerable in fact that when Désir turned to put his gauntlets to the other aspect's arms and waist – an act that would normally see him brushed off – in a reassuring motion if by a spur of the moment, the gesture landed without resistance. Rather than capitalize on this, Désir smiled, "Don't worry about it. Go and sit down. I'll do the cooking for you~"

Like it just occurred to the fellow aspect of how intimate they were in that moment, Pardonner gave an annoyed pout complete with cheeks caked with slight red. "Fine, you handle it." and pulled away to the couch with his boy in pursuit – turning on the holographic device as the fine döji went.

Shrugging it off and glad with the slight progress, Désir turned and filled the pot with water before he applied all the remaining sausages to it, along with just the right amount of salt before he put it on the oven and started it up to a reasonable degree.

Désir's tail bobbed in amusement and he focused fully on cooking this meal for them without another word offered while the others focused on the news – to which Hikari soon grew bored and came to lean on his father, muttering a pleading words that Pardonner more or less shook his head at.

Youngsters does rarely pay news broadcast much interest after all.

It did not take long though before Pardonner looked away from what currently went on, footage that displayed as Milieu went about inspecting miners stationed at the newly discovered Hephaestus System, the Grand Aspect looking almost angelic in the rather glum environment of the Mining Ops' current HQ, "Say..."

"... Something eating you that ain't me?" Désir half-joked, careful not to look away from their food as it sizzled in a shallow sea of melted butter. It was obvious that the colleague of his interest looked forward to having these sausages, so in the hope of getting some positives he wanted to get these just right. Roasted to perfection.

"Get your mind out of the gutter for just one moment.." Pardonner groaned indignantly, though the tone got back to normal when he continued; "I was just curious, about what you're planning..."

"My little outreach program?" he shrugged, careful to roll the sausages over, "Not much to tell for now, except Service got one of his own."

"Noticed. Neither of you are terribly subtle."

"Oh you wound me~" Désir faked hurt and grinned, "I have no need of sneaking around, not where I'm planning to go."

"And where is this mystical place that you won't have to keep your head down without having an army come and bear down on you?"

"Tut tut. That would be telling."

Pardonner rolled his eyes, "... Of course."

"What, interested in coming along?"

"Not really."

"Uh-huh." Désir nodded as an understanding came about, "So you're worried about us?"

For a moment the other simply exhaled, "Of course, but don't take it as personal affection."

"Fine, but I will anyway."

"Some of us are simply worried you two might disappear out there. People are restless enough with Slow's absence without adding more."

Désir nodded again in understanding as the sausages became just right, one by one, and started lumping them onto a platter in position. Outside the corner of his eyes he could plainly see his colleague's kid stare at the piling food with predatory appraisal though without actually acting on any of it, "I don't plan to disappear on you, Pardonner. And neither is Service. Precautions will be made."

The fellow aspect folded his arms sceptically, "I don't believe Slow had planned on vanishing either, yet here we are."

"This, will be different." he declared confidently, and clucked with approval at the fruits of his labor as he switched off the oven and hefted a now full platter covered with nicely roasted sausages that almost glistened in the light, "Food's finished by the way. Shall we shelve our little conversation and enjoy?"

It was a fair deal. Pardonner let the subject lie with the prospect of food he longed to have since it was formally introduced to him. For all the ways Désir annoyed him, the offer of Gargant sausages was all too attractive to refuse. He sat a little straighter in his position on the couch, expectantly, just knowing that the other would try and sit as close to him as possible soon as the table was prepared.

For now, he put aside the concerns on his mind and nodded in compliance, "No objection."

"Good." Désir giggled softly as he put the platter full of meaty roasted sausages neatly on the middle of the table and turned on his heel to fetch what would make this dinner a whole lot more complete, tail bobbing with some barely concealed excitement as he went.

So he and his son watched patiently as the table was soon covered with additional platters, along with bread and various condiments, then finally a trio of glasses together with a bottle of soda... and a bottle Désir apparently decided to bring when he received the invitation.

Pardonner looked up at the bunny of a dôji with an eyebrow raised, indicating the bottle without actually pointing it out.

And it quickly turned out Hikarir would as he looked curiously at the other drink, "What's that sir?"

"Something I picked up from the surface," Désir grinned and predictably put himself down onto the couch, merely inches from the fellow aspect who looked on with resignation.

The kid's eyes kindled with interest, "Oh?"

"Pay it no mind. Rather, we should eat before the food gets cold."

Pardonned inclined his head, glancing at the other wryly, "So you do make a good point sometimes."

Désir laughed, "Who ever said the aspect of Patience ain't got a sense of humor?"

"Those who aren't there when I quip a joke. Hikari." Pardonner regarded his son, "Would you like to start?"

"Aye dad!" the boy extended an arm and took the meatiest sausage he could see from his vantage point, and immediately sowed ketchup richly across before he stuffed it onto a length of bread. Done with preparation he went on to nibble the morsel, the initial sampling followed by an appreciative moan as he hungrily chowed.

Désir smirked at the obvious approval, "Like it?"

"Mhmm!" Hikari replied in a muffled tone, mouth all too full of food to form coherent words.

"Hikari, I told you before; Chew first, talk after." Pardonner sternly told him, and received a nod of understanding in return as he went ahead and prepared a hot dog for himself. On the outside he was as usual the image of stoicism, but was actually just below the surface quite excited as soon enough the food in his grasp was rendered ready for consumption and hoist it for his lips when another hot dog suddenly intruded from the side – drawing a quick glare upon the one who held it. "And what do you think you're doing, Désir?"

Désir had leaned just a little closer, with his right elbow firmly planted onto the table, and the left gauntlet filled with what just had to be the absolutely meatiest and most richly spiced hot dog he had seen in years.

"Being charitable?" the lecherous dôji positively beamed at him with the proffered morsel, "Rude to say no~"

"It is also rude to shove food up to someone else's face without consent, but... fine. I'll go along with this, but just this once. Again and I will cause you some considerable pain. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly."

Pardonner resignedly inclined just a little bit and opened his mouth, and watched through near-closed eyes as Désir acted accordingly and inserted the hot dog. Upon which he felt everything about it as once, especially as he sank his teeth in before he near-drunkenly allowed his colleague to slide in more across his tongue-like sensor. Numerous sensations washed through his mouth, including the simple texture of bread, sweetness of at least two near-liquid condiments, sharpness of spices. Most of all though was that which is the only part of the meal not an approximation; the roasted gargant-derived sausage that despite being roasted held a very real raw flavor to it.

For a few moments he simply closed his eyes and enjoyed the fill as Désir pushed the hot dog all the way in, and withdrew the lone claw that just now was on the cusp of touching his lips. All frustration was momentarily forgotten while he simply sat there and chewed heartily until he finally started to swallow, each pull jerking a chunk of pulped food into his depths.

So good it was that he purred with longing already right after the last piece went down, "Ah, how delightfully scrumptious..."

"Mm, I really do like your frowns and stoic expressions. They suit you so perfectly." Désir commented on the view, "But right now... I got to say your smile is equally as dazzling." before his attention were suddenly drawn away with a silent curse, "Oi!"

"Oh... don't ruin the momen... huh?" Pardonner groused and glanced back to his son who in quite a lively manner guzzled greedily from the bottle Désir brought, evidently curiosity had gotten the better of him. At first it was thought to be pretty harmless, but when the bottle left Hikari's lips and was followed by a drunken hic... the father knew something was not right, "Hikari, what's wrong?"

Hikari did not answer, instead he awkwardly put the bottle back on the table before he promptly fell against the couch and just as quickly drifted to sleep, snoring in a manner most undignified.

Suspicious of the proceedings, Pardonner shot an arm at the bottle before Désir could retrieve it, and brought it up close to scan the contents, eyes widening with realization that this is not just some drink – but an extremely potent beverage.

"Désir," he asked with calm that was not at all reassuring of events to come, "what is this?"

"Er..." Désir fidgeted in a surprisingly nervous manner, "It... it is something they've started making on the surface. Wanted to enjoy it with you after the meal."

"And when did you plan to tell me, or rather, us?" Pardonner asked, easily able to imagine that his colleague would pour him glasses of this beverage without telling, maybe in the hope that it would 'loosen' him up.

And apparently the dôji who embody Lust with equal ease came to the conclusion that the fellow aspect would be able to put pieces together about his intentions this instant. So he did not even bother to answer that and instead voiced his defense; "I did not intend for Hikari to take a sip from it, let alone half the content."

Pardonner was about to bite back a response in an explosive bout of anger for omitting the part about it being a beverage. But though the intention was probably to try and bed him amidst the drunken haze, dirty as it is, he did not intend to sully the youngster with a drink that powerful.

So he forcefully calmed himself a few hundred pegs and settled for a morose glare, "Fine. You did not wish anything untoward against my child, so this is what we'll do – unless you want me to start beating you upside your head with something big and heavy."

"Yes?"

"We're going to just sit here, eat till we are satisfied – with some set aside for Hikari. And after that you'll leave without further attempts to seduce me for a while." Pardonner declared solemnly, attention drifting to the hot dog in his claws he had yet to consume. "Deal?"

Désir drooped with even his visors lowering, and they went on to continue the meal. "Deal..."

Next morning...

Location: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari Village

Javik had demanded to see the installation after he recovered from what he was told of the facility's fate, in the vain hope that somewhere inside there just had to be other pods with survivors. Staring at the very extinction of his people, that was the only hope he had left to him.

Only to end up in vain - the utterly dark tomb of a place merely drove the nail further in.

So now he sat and brooded within the bedroom from which he woke the day before, his heart heavy with the steep darkness that haunted the chambers below. And every second brought a memory of what was, and what should have been. For all the desperation that had come with their plan, their rise from the ashes was all but guaranteed.

All that hope, all for nothing.

In the midst of his intense sorrow, consideration was given to simply end it rather than live alone like this. To go down to the armory block and put to use one of the guns within.

Someone had other plans though, as the door abruptly burst open. Javik winced at the light that shone through it and squinted at the opening where the rather diminutive owner of this estate stood looking over at him in a measure of sadness, "Are you awake?"

"... Why would I not be?" Javik shrugged and continued to stare at the wall, "Next time I sleep... is when..."

"Javik," the figure raised one of its absurdly large gauntlets and gestured, "come with us. We're about to go downtown, and I would rather have with than leave you to your own devices."

"You fear I will put a beam to my head or go off a cliff while you're gone?"

"Yes, pretty much." Lyta Lyle confirmed, "I know you're in pain, but it does not mean you should throw yourself away. So are you coming, or should I carry you?"

Javik felt himself roll his eyes, and belatedly decided to stand and follow the dôji out to the hallway where he watched as alien hummed in approval, but for a few seconds in front of a small mirror, looking briefly over his mirror image before he inexplicably adjusted his flowering kimono, widening the collar a little to show more of his shoulders before he nodded with satisfaction and led him out.

Outside, the planet's climate cooler compared to that of fifty thousand years ago. And impatiently leaning against a nearby fence was Balak, having waited for them with arms and face alike crossed into a severe frown.

"Are you ready to go?" Lyta Lyle asked of the rowdy alien as he headed past.

"Of course," Balak replied sullenly as he fell in with Javik and followed the dôji down to the gate and onto the road in relative silence, until a question connected to the little peculiarity that went on not even two minutes ago simply begged to be asked.

Javik veered slightly closer to the other and asked the following question in due curiosity, but not nearly enough to imply he needed them, "Why did that one feel inclined to do that?"

The fellow four-eyed alien snorted, "Do what?"

"Slight adjustment of clothing."

Balak gave the dôji a once over and grimaced, "... Really?"

"What?"

"Do your people not have a concept of suggestive wear?"

Javik gave him a blank stare.

"Seriously?" Balak blurted in amused disbelief, "Damn, the distant past is no fun."

"It really wasn't."

"Point. Well, here's what's up with that..."

And he listened intently, "And that is?"

"Simply put, he's using this opportunity to look for possible mates." Balak lowered his voice into a whisper, yet did not sound very convinced if the dôji could still listen in or not, "Bloody git wants to have children. So he's doing that to subtly hint that he is... well... available... for anyone interested."

It struck him as kind of odd, but accepted the answer. "If that is so, why do we have to come along?"

"Most likely to have us carry anything he will buy for us. Food and the like."

Javik grunted an acknowledgment, and looked around as they strolled down the road, passing other farms along the way. Each of them conformed to the relatively same deal as Lyta Lyle got, and similar herds of animals. Balak noticeably shuddered and veered away from a particularly tall fence from which a Gargant glared at him like he was a flea to stomp. Or at the very least until the farmer that owned the beast smacked it on the side and had it move off. Javik blinked, it looked strangely like the farmer physically shoved it away despite the utter difference in size.

"G'day Lyta Lyle." the farmer lifted a strange hat in greeting as they passed, momentarily confused on whether to focus on the fine dôji or the aliens following him before he settled for a simple greeting.

"A pleasant day to you, Gull." Lyta Lyle replied, apparently finding the confusion quite funny.

Javik snorted quietly, ignoring the exchange as he looked at the primitive means used to plow these fields. He watched as another farmer who pulled along a plow by himself stopped to wave at them passing by, a gesture repeated by the one leading them.

"Friendly community..." Balak commented dryly.

"Yes," Lyta Lyle raised his partly exposed shoulders, "though it will probably cool off as time goes by." His attention turned to the prothean; "It may not look like it, but many of us here used to be soldiers before we came here. And now, we simply want a change of pace."

"You were a soldier?" Javik asked with slight interest surfacing.

"To some extent we still are... Let's just say some skills can't be unlearned. And some might return to the battlefield in time."

"For how long did you serve?"

"Ever since I reached what counts as adulthood for our kind. I have been participant to centuries of near constant battle."

Having heard that, Javik grew a spark of respect for the dôji, as veterans of war were greatly respected in prothean society. He was momentarily surprised that such a seemingly fragile being had been in war though, yet emerged from it so well off. The mentioning of long centuries in battle on the other hand was less surprising as some species do have impressive lifespans.

That clarified, he moved on to ask: "What did you fight?"

"... I apologize, but I would prefer not speaking of it right now." Lyta Lyle responded hesitatingly, "Look ahead instead. We're almost there."

Javik frowned, but looked on as they entered the village's outskirts. From the looks of it, it was not all that big, a mere few dozen buildings at most. And running up through the middle of it was a decent shopping street, with a few shops and quite a few stalls. From his vantage point, he could easily count some hundreds of dôji of an almost absurd variety of stature that could not simply connote that of adults and children of all ages. He wondered about that, but said nothing.

The dôji with them finally spoke up again, this time a verbally expressed observation as he looked over the crowd they wandered into, "Looks like we got visitors from Yggdrasil. Guess it had to happen, given this is the day of the week where everyone gather to do business. We best hurry, or all the good stuff will be gone."

And that was pretty much what he lead them to do. Javik could not help but feel like eyes bored into his neck as Lyta Lyle led them through the streets and a food shop. Just moments after they arrived at town, looks were gravitating in their group's general direction. The reason was obvious; him and Balak, both whose hands were soon given stuff to hold; predominantly bags full of newly bought foodstuff. Enough that they soon left the particular shop behind for another, but the comments and attention seemed to follow them persistently.

"How can there be aliens here?" a nearby stocky dôji murmured to another in astonishment. His expression one of bewilderment.

"Look at that..." one who was undoubtedly a child spoke to his father, pointing a blunt claw at Balak by virtue of him being closer than the prothean, "He's got four eyes! They both do!"

Another followed suit just past the door of this shop. A very tall being who stared down at the aliens as they passed with an unconcerned Lyta Lyle in the lead, "What in the world?"

"Ugh," Balak snorted fiercely, "Feel like I'm at a goddamn freak show."

Javik did not much like the excessive attention either, "Have they not ever seen an alien before?"

"Some have, most haven't." Lyta Lyle tutted as he tapped the counter with a claw, waiting for the shopkeeper. "Considering the current state of things, most people do not expect to see one, let alone two, so soon. Now... where is that... Ah, there you are!"

Most in the shop was completely unfazed, except maybe those who came from the city, as the shopkeeper stumbled into view and tripped on his very own feet and crashed haphazardly into the floor, right by the counter.

Apparently it was a regular occurrence, and the farmer treated it as such as he waited for the shopkeeper to stand upright.

The shopkeeper's attire appeared completely white, complemented by an extremely long mane of brilliantly white hair that circled down from almost the full crown of his head except face and all below it. If not for the uncovered area along the front, he could easily be mistaken for a mobile mop of hair.

"Ow, um," the shopkeeper blushed crimson as his gaze fell on Lyta Lyle and bowed awkwardly, "W-welcome to my kiosk. Is there anything you would like?"

"Yes Pi, there is one thing." the farmer replied, smiling effortlessly past a mild air of exasperation, "I would like to have the two over there."

Pi looked over his shoulders at a couple of rectangular cases of plastic. "I-I must admit I'm surprised. Thought you would be among the last to need such wares."

Lyta Lyle indicated the aliens. Apparently the shopkeeper had not noticed the veritable elephants in the room, "It's for the benefit of those two."

"Oh, ah!" Pi confirmed it, but to his credit recovered quickly as he went and picked the cases up and put them on the counter. "W-well, in that case I understand... Would there be anything else?"

The other shook his head as he put payment on the counter and accepted the items, "No, for what I need next can only gotten one place."

Pi drooped slightly, "I... see."

"Be seeing you." Lyta Lyle said for a farewell before he headed back out with a gesture for the others to form up and follow. That was pretty much what Javik did, while mulling on some peculiarity.

After another short while traversing the crowded street, oft with several curious onlookers, it reached a boiling point, "I have a question."

Balak looked like he was ever so slightly ill as he replied; "What?"

"What is it that distinguish male from female for their species?"

"Er... I'm guessing... personality."

Javik stared at the batarian like he had grown another head, perplexed. Before they could continue though in this line of conversation, Lyta Lyle had stopped at a bench where he started to converse with a dôji who carried a distinctly tiny specimen of their species curled up in his arms, sleeping.

"—is there anything wrong, Doro?"

"Not really... well, yes. There is one thing." the dôji named Doro replied shortly as he looked around, "Something has been going on out there."

Lyta Lyle folded his arms, "Trouble?"

"Aye, some criminal they call the 'Snatcher'. Steals away kids, but in all cases so far gave them back after a while..."

"Oh? Someone who gets a kick from seeing their parents go wild trying to find their children, that kind of thing? Sure doesn't sound good."

"It really doesn't." Doro tightened his embrace on the tiny offspring of his protectively, "What if the criminal eventually decide not to hand the kidnapped children back? That is what has gotten people worried the most."

"So what's the latest rumors on the ground?"

"The 'Snatcher' is moving around. Each case takes place someplace else entirely. He's getting closer to our village every day... Could even be here right now, watching from a distance..."

"Relax, I doubt it'd happen in broad daylight. Besides, keep on guard like that at all times and you'll wear yourself out. The 'Snatcher' is probably an excessively mischievous dôji, and certainly not a kurozu."

Javik felt a need to inquire as to what a 'kurozu' was when a sudden bellow of a growl made him jump five feet into the air. Lyta Lyle on the other hand only giggled as he looked to Balak, "Lunch?"

"Lunch..." Balak growled hoarsely.

"I could have sworn you had breakfast not even two hours ago... Sorry about this Doro, but we'll have to go now."

"No worries," Doro laughed as he stood and walked away, "I've got something I need doing too."

"Bye then." Lyta Lyle waved, then waved them on, "Guys, to the cafe."

Balak slumped, "About time."

It did not take long to find the place. A rather small establishment that seemingly held little to its name. Or at least that is what it appeared until they found a table and received a menu tablet, a notebook and a pen – simplicity be praised – from a quick to appear waiter who left just as abruptly.

Lyta Lyle accepted it without a word and looked over what they had to offerr, "They've widened the selection since last I was here. Good." and jotted down what he wanted before passing on the menu, "Take a look and show me what you'd like."

The batarian accepted it tentatively, and took a look. An exclamation, "Pillars!" came from him together with a widening of the eyes as he looked over a selection of surprising vastness. Balak gripped the menu more tightly and browsed it intensely till he finally turned it to the dôji and pointed out what he wanted, which was subsequently jotted down before Javik himself finally received the list of meals.

It seemed the guess was indeed accurate. The selection was admittedly impressive, and a lot of it looked both strange and oddly attractive. But what truly drew his attention in the end was a platter of roasted fish.

His decision was made in an instant and he twirled the menu around to highlight the particulary dish as memory seemed to subtly poke at him, "I would like to have this."

Lyta Lyle giggled, and wrote before he hefted the pen and notebook both and waved with them till the waiter returned, accepted the items, and left again – this time straight for the kitchen, "Looks like things are going well."

"What makes you say that?"

"That they are able to offer so much Earth-originate foods means at least a few production plants have been made. Consequently it means most of the more important projects have been completed, or are close to it."

"And how does food production not rate as a priority?" It did not make sense to him for it to be a secondary or tertiary in importance. A hungry people rioted sooner rather than later, even if extinction lay just around the corner they collectively could readily ruin everything for a few scraps of food.

Balak huffed a laugh, like that was somehow hilarious. "Hah. Going to label it as a 'long story', right?"

For a moment, the dôji seemed heavy on his seat, but before he could offer a reply stiffened considerably when a number of distant greetings came out of the crowd, directed at something that stalked down the street, each step a heavy stomp. Javik craned his neck to see what is coming, and froze solid at the sight of a massive hunched synthetic that towered over the crowd, a large spear resting against its right shoulder.

A moment of complete personal silence that broke and shattered as he abruptly burst into action and stood with enough force to knock his chair several feet back, hand reaching down to where his beam rifle was supposed to be, only to vaguely remember he had not brought one.

So instead, he glared with utter defiance and hostility as he searched for any kind of weapon with which to defend himself, momentarily incapable of hearing the dôji's call to calm down – blotting the world out.

It did not take too long for some people to pick up the thickness of the tenseness here and now as the Taison drifted its gaze curiously across the seemingly distracted elements of the crowd and came to focus on the object of their attention, fixing its blue optics on Javik – somehow able to instantly overcome the difficulty of looking into the prothean's four eyes by staring at the spaces between them.

Having discovered him, it approached at a ridiculously leisurely pace. And Javik did what was natural to him and armed himself with the chair, hoisting it to his shoulder, prepared to strike the moment it came close enough. He half expected it to try and skewer him with that spear from outside his range... but instead wandered right into it – at which he swung his emergency weapon at the thing.

For all the time it took to land, Javik was with his excellent sense of perception able to see everything the synthetic did in response. Oddly, it flipped its spear around and stabbed it into the ground, then whipped out from behind it a large blunt object with which it met the chair. The prothean thought it was a mace, a mallet with which to beat him to a pulp with. But as their weapons met and ground to a standstill, he became aware of written words on the side of the 'mallet' facing him:

'Oi there!'

It was absurdity he found no humor to as he withdrew the chair and stepped back, readied for another attempt, and attacked. Only this time it was not the massive robot that stopped him, but Lyta Lyle, who exasperatedly grabbed the chair and wrenched it out of his grip.

"Calm down, Javik. It's not an enemy!"

"Synthetics are my enemy, dôji." Javik growled, not taking its gaze off the machine that offered no further struggle, aside from a glance at the ridiculous hat it for some reason wore. The response seemed to cut into the farmer without the prothean knowing why it was so. "Synthetics are the enemy of all life..."

Lyta Lyle viewed him patiently, "We aren't..."

Before he could ask him to elaborate on that strange response, the towering machine flipped the sign it held around: 'Lyta Lyle. I really must inquire as to how you somehow managed to recruit yet another alien. Is there any more in your closet?'

Many among the crowd noted again that its ability to convey its data solely via written signs remained voluminous to the point of absurdity.

"No one else." the dôji reassured, "Um, this here is Javik. A Prothean."

'Prothean...?' it somehow had a sign for that as well. 'Far as I am aware, they are extinct.'

"One remains..."

'How?'

"We... found something underground where he slept in a cryogenic pod. It was on the verge of failing, so we elected to save him."

'Which means...' it slumped, 'I really must hand in a report on this... development.'

"Your laziness is an example to us all, Hatter." Lyta Lyle awkwardly shrugged, "Reason why the sons of Paresse looks onto you for inspiration."

'Cute.'

Somehow it managed the minor miracle of making its sarcasm clear in written form. Javik grew annoyance with simple disbelief at how the machine chose to focus on Lyta Lyle instead. "Step away from it." he warned.

The dôji looked to him again, "No reason to fear..."

"It will turn on you. Do not trust a synthetic...!"

'You mean... you do not know?' the towering synthetic looked back at him, new sign held up. 'You really don't know?'

Javik had no time for these games, "Know what?!"

"I... did not tell him." Lyta Lyle confessed with some feeling, "It's... complicated."

The Taison simply stared, unable to show any emotion with its expressionless face. 'I understand. But we really should break it to him before something unfortunate happens.'

The dôji looked very uncomfortable now as he filtered his claws together on the table. Balak was simply a silent spectator for now. "I guess we have little choice now... Javik?"

"What is it?" Javik was utterly bewildered and agitated. Comprehending now that the farmer kept some information from him, and knew he would like it much less than the secrecy that held it, "What is going on, Lyta Lyle?!" He shouted, increasingly aware of how many eyes were focused on their conversation now – almost wary in their collective attention.

"Nothing is going on, Javik. I was simply concealing the true nature of us dôji from you... for your sake." Lyta Lyle replied softly, fidgeting, "I wanted to reveal this eventually for when you would be more prepared for it, but alas here we are."

"And...?"

"... We are synthetic lifeforms, Javik. Except you and Balak, the entire population of this planet is synthetic."

He took this in like a sponge, and felt a wave of utter sickness wash over him hard enough to throw a sense of vertigo, making him stumble against a fence. Javik was disturbed by every measure and could not immediately appreciate the sheer enormity of the implications, of what it meant. That all of the surrounding dôji, living their lives, taking care of their young, working, playing... are in fact machines. All of them. Disbelief crossed his expression before it changed into a growing sense of horror that mutated quickly from there into an ugly pile of bile and venom.

Lyta Lyle said nothing, he merely wore a saddened expression.

"Then why... why do you look at me like that, with those eyes?" Javik growled, his voice sounding more hollow and filled with disgust than he ever remembered of it before, "Have you been doing this just to spite me?"

"No one-"

"Silence!" Javik hissed loudly, frantically pointing at everyone around him, "I understand now... you are not people, you are monsters! Traitorous machines who turned on your builders... Was that not enough for you to slaughter them all for perceived inferiority, so now you mock them even further in this form?!"

Several among the crowd exchanged glances, more than a few scrunching up at the ranting insults he hurled at them.

"Cease the mockery you murderers, you are even worse than what I fought before; at least they did not pretend to be organics!"

Apparently, someone decided he had had enough with the rant. And as the prothean turned to the crowd and gesticulated at them in abject hatred, the dôji nearest to him whipped an arm out and to Lyta Lyle's outrage slapped Javik across his face with the force to send him spinning away till he recovered just enough to crumple onto the ground in silence – a large portion of his cheek turning black from the harsh blow.

Javik stared numbly up at the one who struck, ignoring the 'minder' of his who rushed to kneel by his half-comatose form. With all the intensity he could manage, he projected his defiance before finally the blow took its real toll and sent him into unconsciousness, where the dreams thankfully chose not to embrace him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Lyta Lyle as good as yelled this at the offending dôji, a son of Rage - their kind often known for brutal honesty - who huffed and puffed in lingering agitation at the prothean's drivel. That punch could have broken the alien's neck if it had been delivered with even a tiny bit more strength. Of course it could be said Javik had it coming, but there was plenty of context missing for both sides, ignorance in equal measure.

"Wrong with me?" the other defended angrily, "He shouted all that just now!"

"Bloody-minded fool!" he fiercely replied, twisting his fair expression in anger much like is the case with his father Slow, "Javik here is the last of his kind. He literally just woke up from a fifty thousand years long cryogenic sleep as part of an effort to outlive the synthetic enemy that exterminated his people – only to live and see that enemy get the final laugh!"

At the outburst, the son of Rage faltered ever a little.

"So yes, his hatred can be said to be reasonably justified." Lyta Lyle continued in his indignation as he carefully hefted the prothean into his arms, "In time I hope to warm him up to us, but I could very well do without a complete idiot like yourself confirming his fears by lashing out!"

'Now now...' Hatter held the sign up as it stomped on over and positioned itself between the feuding dôji, 'Lyta Lyle, I will need you to come by my office later and explain all of what has happened.'

"... I'll come by this evening. Right now I got too much to do."

'Quite fine.' the Taison nodded and put away the sign, exchanging it for another, 'It might not do much good, but tell him he's got my sympathy.'

"Understood." Lyta Lyle sighed as he stood with Javik firmly held in his arms, "Balak, collect our things. We're going back."

Balak who until then had kept himself firmly in the background flashed a look of dismay across his face, "Huh? But... what about lunch?"

"..." he signaled for the waiter to come on over, who reluctantly but dutifully did, "Any chance you can pack the meals for us to bring home with us?"

"It... will cost extra."

"Fair enough. Just do it."

"Aye," the waiter turned on his heel and left them alone, "doing."

He was unhappy to see the day turn out like this, but guessed there was nothing for it. And from now he would have to prepare for the harder part of the business concerning Javik; the inevitable aftermath. What to do next?

Author notes: Javik has found out the truth of what is around him and is not taking it well. If he still had his gun, there would have been lots of shooting by now. Next chapter, Milieu will finally get to start with what he traveled so far for. But will it go smoothly?