Vega stirred from sleep, aware again of One's deep roil of hunger.
It wasn't alarming now though. And it was all too easy for the two to vanish into the night.
The Fox's cockpit stayed comfortably warm all night, Brad and Naomi asleep and nestled safely within.
As the sun began to rise and the Shadow Fox stirred from its rest, it slowly registered the snow that'd piled up on its body overnight.
This was a development.
Mindful of the sleeping humans in its head, the Shadow Fox turned minutely to look at the Gun Sniper. It was also covered in snow.
The Fox chirped quietly, rousing the Sniper - which seemed equally surprised. It chuffed in alarm and shook off, craning its neck to inspect the snow. Ambient had slept under the Fox, so avoided the actual snowfall. It brightened an optic to regard the Zoids.
~Whh? It's just snow.~ It said gruffly to their unspoken queries, relaying the rest of the concept to them in a quicker, more abstract way. Both Zoids listened intently, and settled when provided an explanation.
The Fox then carefully scooped a heaping paw's worth of snow overtop Ambient, burying the Organoid completely.
When Ambient sat up, the snow rose with his crested head. It shook off, optics narrowing.
~Tod.~
The Fox's digital growl trilled, playful.
Ambient sighed and relocated with a flash to the Fox's core chamber, not seeking to fuse with it - rather just content to lazily bask beside the Core's warmth. He felt the Zoid rumble, and rumbled right back. Ambient was in no mood to play.
The Fox stewed with brief disappointment before turning to the seated Gun Sniper. It began to gently groom the sheeting icemelt off the smaller Zoid's back. The Gun Sniper warbled, stretching as its joints warmed and seeming to enjoy this treatment.
Naomi awoke at the Gun Sniper's sounds, and glanced out the cockpit window to see what was going on. She saw the snow, saw nothing was amiss, then looked at Brad.
The man was out like a light, snoring softly, mouth slightly open. It was one of few times she could remember him actually seem asleep since he'd returned.
Naomi couldn't help but wonder if this arrangement - the two comfortably confined within a trusted Zoid - helped provide the man whatever sense of safety Brad felt he lacked.
Her eyes rolled.
But she caught herself, stomach dropping with mild disgust at her own thoughts.
Who was she to belittle his concerns, well-masked as they may have been? He didn't downplay her fears at having been left out to die, something which she was still trying to process. And he'd been through so much more.
She did understand the need to do something. Naomi wasn't sure what they'd be able to accomplish, but reasoned she'd rather be working towards a goal - and helping Brad do the same - than continue to watch the man hide in the hangar and apartment.
Sara sat in a too-large bathrobe in a too-small guest quarters, her eyes closed. With slow, almost meditative grace the woman ran a brush through her silky hair.
A twinge.
Sara cracked an eye. She hadn't heard anything, but-
"Ma'am."
She closed her eye again, sweeping slightly-damp hair into a clip. In the same, smooth motion she shifted her weight, turned her shoulder, and produced a pistol which she pointed towards the voice.
It was a voice she recognized, but that didn't mean much.
"Polta." Her tone was deadpan.
The pale man appeared meekly from one corner, hands and palms showing.
Sara didn't budge. "What are you doing here?"
"I've been looking for you and Vega." He said quietly. He wasn't wearing any Backdraft attire, but rather an unassuming gray and green outfit trimmed conservatively with gold. The gold matched his striking eyes, which weren't obscured by his usual visor. "We- no one had any idea what had become of you two."
"That's intentional." Sara said coolly. "So as you might surmise, I'm not terribly glad to see you."
"I've left." Came the simple reply.
Only two words, but Sara understood without elaboration.
The woman squinted.
Polta didn't seem to be lying. Regardless, she leveled the gun at him.
"Why."
Polta's eyes dropped to the floor, and he winced. "Ma'am. With all due respect. I worked under Alteil for over a decade. And then you, when you overtook his position. There's an… unfortunate reputation this has lent me."
The man raised his eyes, raised his brows, and though he didn't say it, Sara got the distinct impression that an attempt had already been made on the man's life. She watched his throat work anxiously.
Her own concerns were warranted.
"They wanted you quiet?"
Polta just smiled, faintly and nervously. "Mhm. I took that as my cue to leave."
It read on his face, to Sara at least. He'd killed whoever was after him, but he didn't enjoy it. Probably an easily-swayed colleague. Sara just studied the man icily, expression unchanging.
"The Committee's in chaos." Polta went on. "And I know you didn't like him. But Alteil's loss was … immense. He'd done a lot for the Organization. Held a lot of little things together."
"So have I and so did I." Sara stated, and finally lowered the pistol. "I can't offer you anything. I don't have anything."
Polta dipped his head deferentially, and kept it down. "Ma'am. I really did just want to see if you were all right." His gaze, but not his head, rose. "I… do value what you brought to the Organization. And think that you may be indispensable in getting it back on track."
Sara's stony expression finally broke with a scowl. "No amount of détente will bring the damn Committee together at this point. What's needed is a clean slate."
"I'd not be so bold as to say it, ma'am. But. Agreed."
When the Fox had found scant sign of a Geno Saurer the previous day, the concept of a threat was distant and unlikely.
Fresh tracks in new snow from one of the beasts came as an unpleasant reminder of what they were actually here for, and after.
Naomi retrieved the firearms she'd brought with her from their cases, uneasily stashing them in the Gun Sniper's cockpit. Given the nature of their pursuit, it'd been hard to make solid plans about what exactly to do if they actually found the Zoids - and pilots - they were after.
With the fluid grace of habit, Naomi slipped off to find a vantage and track the Geno Saurer from on-high, so as to provide Brad and the Fox with a broader view than what they could pick up alone. The couple and their Zoids functioned near-seamlessly as a unit - a single, unchained animal that had never before been free to express such synergy.
The afternoon's shadows lengthened slowly.
The Saurer had been consistently stopping, identifying something in the ground, then ripping it up to destroy it. An oddly mundane-looking task for a unit like a Geno Saurer - but perhaps something only they had the strength and destructive power to easily accomplish solo. The devices looked like sensor or communications equipment - likely something Backdraft didn't want in the hands of, or to be used by, anyone else.
Naomi had long since settled in to keep a patient eye on the Saurer, quite used to protracted spans of staring through a scope.
Confidence. It was something she'd been stripped of during the unexpected fight with the Fury, and was left silently shaken as a result. But the woman's velvet sense of superiority crept back as she simply watched, knowing what power lay in the simple act of surprise.
She did notice Brad enacting what seemed to be a much more complex plan than he'd let on. She'd watched the man establish a perimeter with the Fox, and watched the shadowy Zoid slink from one vantage to the next in its careful, deliberate way. To what end, she wasn't sure.
The sun eventually dipped and began to arrow into the trees.
Brad gave a vague signal.
Ambient skulked now into plain view, clearly trying - and succeeding - to get the Geno Saurer and it's pilot's attention. The resulting hesitation, confusion, and caution were palpable even from this distance. The Saurer even showed sign of being only tenuously under command.
Ambient circled deliberately into the blaze of sunlight reflecting from the snow. The Geno Saurer's head and optical readouts followed.
And it was from this brightness the Shadow Fox burst, slamming charged laser claws into the Saurer and tearing it off of its feet, down to its side. The saurian Zoid recovered smoothly with a roll and whirled to face the Fox, roaring-
It was way too easy. Naomi fired a single shot and the Geno Saurer staggered and shrieked, struck in the neck.
The massive Zoid hit the ground hard and thrashed to right itself, but Naomi quickly reloaded and put an end to those efforts. While there wasn't any Judge to verify the takedown, she was confident that the Saurer was in a CSF.
After a broad and careful sweep to ensure there weren't any of this Saurer's teammates lurking about, Naomi started down towards the small clearing.
Ambient watched Fuma intently as she staggered from the cockpit, cussing and looking wildly around.
Fuma clearly had no real idea what'd hit the Zoid or from where, other than possibly the now-gone Shadow Fox… which she really wasn't even sure she'd seen. In addition, there'd been what'd seemed to be an Organoid, which she was worried she'd straight-up hallucinated.
She scanned the area carefully, staring the way the Fox had gone for several tense minutes. She knelt to feel the ground for the weight of a Zoid's movement. Nothing.
She listened closely.
The forest was completely silent, except for the sound of wind and the rustle of icy branches. Beyond that, all she heard was the foreboding whine of her Zoid's Command System Freeze. No Zoid, no heat, no sensors… no comms.
Fuma sighed angrily. "Fuck."
This entire mindless task was already beneath her, a sore point layered in among many others from the tumultuous past several weeks. But she did recognize the necessity of not leaving key installations behind for the ZBGF or ZBC to find - and she felt more than a vague loyalty to the Backdraft in spite of Alteil's demise. She knew the rest of her Team felt similarly.
In truth, the Fuma Team were indeed simply mercenaries, working for whoever paid. But Alteil - and the Backdraft Organization, by extension - had always had their back.
She just hadn't expected anything to happen in this cold and silent forest. During her few months of working in the Mackaray region she'd seen more of Zi's pestilent wildlife than anything else. Even those glimpses had been few and far between.
The snowy ground crunched under the woman's boots as she paced in front of the Geno Saurer, assessing both the damage and her options.
She kept glancing warily over her shoulder, clearly disturbed by the feel of Ambient's predatory gaze... but was unable to identify what it was, or where it came from.
When Fuma finally came across the entry wound in the Saurer's neck, she registered the damage as an excruciatingly precise Sniper's shot. The woman blanched at the belated realization, reflexively taking cover while scanning what little of the distance she could see through the dimming trees.
Who'd taken these shots? From where? Were they still out there? Fuma swiftly retrieved her gun from the cockpit and holstered it, eyes never leaving her back unguarded for more than a few seconds.
Unfortunately a few seconds was all Ambient needed. He stepped heavily into view and snarled, a collection of dangerous crimson curves that demanded her attention.
Fuma faced the Organoid, pistol immediately drawn and at the ready. Far from panicked or reckless, she studied the creature carefully. Uncertain.
Ambient chuckled at her gumption. ~Cannae hurt me with that, lass. You'd best run.~
The woman firmly stood her ground, weapon trained on the Organoid. "You talk?"
~Mhmm.~ Ambient tapped a foreclaw on its wrist, indicating a nonexistent watch. ~You're wastin' yehr only chance.~
"What are you? What do you want?!"
~Not really about me or what ah want. Ah'm just here for some fun. S'about what he wants.~
Fuma glanced, just in time to be seized in a headlock by Brad.
The long-haired man was taller than her, and strong. But she was well-trained, lithe, and completely wired by adrenaline. Fuma jabbed an elbow hard into the man's chest and spun to face him, bringing her pistol to bear-
She tried to bring her pistol to bear.
Instead she found both arms ensnared by thick silver cabling, which went taut and wrenched everything from wrist to scapula painfully backwards. She yelped, both dropping her gun and losing her balance. She staggered several failed steps before collapsing to the ground.
Brad blinked and looked at Ambient.
~Lad, I know you're new at this.~ The Organoid watched Fuma struggle to get up, and rather cruelly delighted in thwarting her attempts. ~But if you're try'na kill someone, assume they want t'kill you back.~ The creature's voice dipped with menace. ~Act acoo'rdingly.~
A simple nod was the reply.
Ambient let up only to allow Brad to drive a knee into Fuma's back. The man ripped off her thick jacket- where it looked obvious that other, smaller weapons could be -and threw it to the side.
The red Organoid slinked close and lashed quick, merciless cabling around the woman's neck, wrists, and ankles, allowing Brad to stand while Fuma stayed firmly bound.
Brad dusted himself off and regarded Fuma. Surprise and confidence somehow blended in his expression: it all-too-clearly read on his face that he hadn't been sure he'd be able to actually find the Fuma Team, nevermind take action against them.
Yet here he was, having subdued the Team's leader. A validating experience, to say the least.
Now what?
Fuma shuddered against Ambient's grip, muscles visibly cording as she tried to break free. It didn't work, and after a few tries she stopped and just glared.
The Sniper shot and Shadow Fox combo now made a little more sense: the two were a team. Naomi Fluegel had obviously survived. Not that it explained the Organoid, but.
Fuma cursed under her breath. "What do you want?"
Brad smiled, but it was devoid of kindness.
"I need to know something. Did you know what Backdraft was doing?"
Fuma scowled. Backdraft was doing a lot at any given time. "Going to have to be a little more specific, Hunter."
Brad stepped closer. "When you and - I assume, your teammates - decided to fuck me and Naomi over. Did you know. What Backdraft was doing."
Fuma's eyes flicked with thought. Something with the Berserk Fury. She knew Jack had died. She knew that several people had died. She hadn't really bothered herself with it. She didn't want to pilot the Fury - they'd asked.
It was entertaining to ambush people. She had nothing against any of these individuals personally... she just felt justified in taking out her frustration with the state of things on others. And her Team - especially now with the might of the Geno Saurers - was brutally efficient at whatever it sought to do.
Watching Brad's icy eyes study her face, though… she determined with some trepidation that there was another Team that may have been slightly more brutally efficient.
She should've had the Sniper pilot crushed into the dirt when she had the chance.
"Simple question, Fuma."
The woman closed her eyes. "No. I didn't."
~Och. Such a liar.~ Ambient's grip tightened.
Leon speared Polta with a glare. As far as lethal stares went, this one would've had the wiry man long dead and ash.
"Backdraft. Isn't. Welcome. Here."
"He's not with them anymore. Like us." Sara said as she idly placed herself between Leon and Polta. She held up a hand for defensive emphasis. "Case in point, he's already had people after him."
That just caused Leon to sharply arch a brow. "Not into baiting hitmen, either."
Vega stood across the way, his arms neatly folded behind his head as he leaned on a wall. "Come on. You know we won't let anyone bad in here."
"I find your standards lacking." Leon eyed the disturbingly-docile black Organoid on the floor beside the child, before glancing back at Sara. "Steve said you could stay." He then looked pointedly at Polta. "Nothing about you. Get out."
Sara frowned. "Surely you'd not send him out t-"
"No. Stop. Your problems are not mine. We do not want your problems. Or his problems. Or Backdraft's problems."
"Have one little unsanctioned battle and this guy stays mad at you for life," Polta muttered, though his attempt at sarcasm found itself both hamstrung by anxiety, then steamrolled by Leon's fierce gaze.
The young Toros flexed his bandaged hands and forearms with barely-contained anger. He smiled, but it was unmistakably hostile. "I'm not feeling particularly charitable towards an Organization that keeps trying its hardest to kill my friends. Get. Out. "
"I'm not the whole damn org," Polta said through his teeth. "And why would I-"
He stopped talking when Leon took a step towards him. Every inch of the larger man's body language read someone ready to fight. But he glanced up as he noticed his father. Steve had stepped into the room at some point, and consternation made deep lines on his face.
"Leon."
The whites flashed irritably in Leon's eyes. Steve's tone was a familiar one. Paternal, scolding - stopping just shy of condescension, but making unmistakable claim to authority. Their eyes locked, and both men faintly showed their teeth.
Leon averted his gaze after several seconds, but swept his arm loosely towards those in the room.
"These people are criminals, Steve. You know that, right?"
"So's Layon," Steve replied, sounding bored. "It doesn't matter, especially if they've left the-"
Leon angrily shook his head and stalked off in an abrupt silence, not allowing his father to finish the sentence.
Steve watched him go, sighed, and glanced back.
Without delay, Polta offered his hand in obsequious introduction.
Naomi arrived just in time to see Brad smoothly lifting his revolver and pointing it straight at Fuma's face. Without thinking, she bolted close and shoved his wrist to the side.
"What are you doing?!"
Brad coolly glanced, face taut with brief ire. But his eyes were a picture of calm. "Solving problems."
"She-"
"She led the attack on us. She left you for dead. She wouldn't hesitate to kill you."
Fuma had long since closed her eyes, but opened them again to look at Naomi. Recognition seared both: Fuma realized she was correct. Her Zoid had indeed been taken out by the damn Red Comet.
Naomi saw the flash of both recognition and realization. Her unspoken authority offered a brief, empowering high; she curled her lip at Fuma, but the expression weakened as she took in Ambient's involvement.
Good lord, these things didn't ever seem to get less disturbing.
Fuma shook her head. "Hunter, I didn't- Fluegel-"
"Shut the fuck up." Brad snapped. He looked again at Naomi. "What, were you hoping to just scare them straight? Because that's not what I'm here for. Not after what they did to us."
Naomi's throat worked uncertainly. "You're not this kind of person."
The man raised a brow. "You know exactly what kind of person I am."
She did. Probably better than anyone else on Zi. That suddenly became the concern. Brad's silent but unyielding intensity seemed to apply equally to everything he did. Battles, sex, and apparently now murder.
"Brad. We can't. We shouldn't."
"Who's going to care, Naomi. Backdraft?"
"Hunter- " Fuma desperately tried to interject again. Brad cut her off, jamming the muzzle of the gun hard through the woman's curly hair. "I said shut up."
Naomi stared, silent for several seconds, studying Brad's face. Every line there was deeply, deeply hurt and bitter - but not angry.
Realization hit her hard.
"Brad." She said, tense. "That CPG wasn't the only time, was it."
His eyes snapped to Naomi's, furious. But she recognized the expression for exactly what it was: a paper-thin veneer over fear. He said nothing.
"Answer me." She demanded.
"No. It wasn't." He took a shallow breath, uninterested in elaborating.
Naomi processed this for a few moments. "What happened?"
"The fucking Berserk Fury happened."
"Well... it isn't here now. You are. Why make things worse?"
Brad pointedly pulled the trigger. The crack of gunshot echoed in the forest. Fuma slumped lifelessly backwards to the now gore-flecked ground.
"Fuck!" Naomi turned away and clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Because they can't get worse." Brad replied through his teeth. "Only better. Don't look away. This is what keeping people safe looks like. Keeping us safe looks like."
"Brad, you can't- "
"I can. I did. Can you honestly tell me that you don't feel better knowing that there's one less piece of shit in the world that doesn't think twice about ruining people's lives?"
Naomi felt her heart in her throat and was fighting a vague urge to vomit, watching the trickling crawl of deep crimson through the patchy snow on the ground. But as much as she wanted to be outraged, disgusted, horrified - she wasn't.
Because Brad wasn't wrong.
She struggled with deep revulsion, trying to sort through this.
Brad went on. "Remember the Sand Stingrays? What'd you call them... cockroaches? If they're roaches, what's Backdraft? Especially knowing what you know now?"
They both knew that Backdraft had killed a number of people solely in the pursuit of finding a pilot for the Fury. That number included Jack Sisco. Naomi knew the Taskers had been devastated, and by them was constantly reminded how close she herself came to losing Brad.
Nevermind her own life.
Brad holstered his revolver and stepped closer to Naomi, slipping his arms around her and pulling her close. Naomi didn't resist, and relaxed into the man. She dropped her forehead into the crook of his neck - and felt his quick, anxious pulse.
He wasn't indifferent, cold-blooded. He was terrified.
In a burning instant Naomi recognized how very real his agitation was, despite the cool demeanor he was forcing. She looked up at his face and saw him scanning the area with quick, hostile flicks of his eyes. Defensive.
With considerable rising bile, Naomi also realized the control she had over this situation. Brad and the Fox had ultimately only been able to overtake Fuma because of her own keen abilities to track and pin targets. Not to mention her taking the unsuspecting Geno Saurer offline.
Naomi had never really used her many weapons for anything more drastic than Zoid combat, target shooting, and self-defense. But Brad was right. This was how one ensured safety. In a way, it was self-defense. Taken to its logical extreme.
Brad gradually calmed down. He looked down at Naomi with a sigh, sounding resigned.
"You're still the boss. If you want, I'll turn myself in for this. But I'm not sorry. And I'm not going to be. I just want what's best for us. For everyone."
There was silence for a time.
Naomi carefully studied the man's earnest blue eyes.
Then she brought her arms around Brad and pulled him to her level for a kiss, which he leaned into. By the time they separated, both were breathless.
Naomi started to push Brad's jacket from his shoulders. He quickly got the hint and shrugged out of it, gently undoing Naomi's overcoat in kind.
It was too cold to wholly undress, but they'd had plenty of practice while half-clothed. Lust replaced anxiety, and it all turned deeply carnal in a passionate expression of acceptance.
Standing off to one side, Ambient indulgently watched.