Never in all her life did Serena think the sight of a banged-up, incomplete Barbatos would bring her relief. But then again, she had never expected to be tossed into a fictional world to fight for her life, so her life would most likely be full of surprises.
So, she felt no shame in admitting she outright sagged onto the seat of her stolen Graze as she watched the Barbatos pull its mace free from the mangled remains of the enemy MS' torso, the Gundam's movements slow but steady. With her breath still ragged, Serena fiddled with the controls in the cockpit, until she finally managed to find the tight beam comms, and linked up with the Barbatos, audio only. "Mika, you little rascal, who said you could take that thing?" Serena called out, being careful to put as much surprise as she could into her words.
"Just felt… like a good idea…" came the tired reply from the other side of the line, and immediately, Serena's worry spiked a notch up.
"Oi, you alright, kid?"
"Yeah… just not… used to this… yet…"
And for a moment, Serena wondered why. Sure, Mika had never piloted a Mobile Suit before, but he hadn't suffered anything this bad during his first fight! He shouldn't have been suffering any backlash, especially with how well she had—
… With how well she had tuned it, damn it all...
In her hurry to get Barbatos up to snuff, and knowing of both her lack of parts and excuse to acquire them, Serena had focused on the second best thing: having her Haros properly tune Barbatos' OS. This meant its performance would be as close as possible to its original specs.
Which meant that Mika was now being pumped with data feedback far more severe than he ever had gone through his entire life, without an acclimation period or "entry level" exposure. That he hadn't keeled over unconscious yet was honestly both a testament of how stubborn the kid was… and, honestly, a freaking miracle.
It still meant Serena now had to deal with a possible dead weight on the battlefield, while the only competent Gjallarhorn pilot was still fully prepped to fight.
"Shit… alright, sit tight there, Mika," she finally replied, her tone steely as she took hold of the Graze's controls once more. "I'll handle this."
"I can still… keep going…" he replied, but the wooziness in his voice betrayed how badly his first outing was proving to be.
"Mika, stay. That's an order."
"… You don't give me orders. Only Orga does."
"Duly noted," Serena said in return, mildly amused by how much more determined Mika sounded at that moment, before refocusing her attention back to the last Graze still standing: Crank's. Thankfully, the old man had yet to move, which gave Serena at least a few moments to think up a strategy.
Skilled as she was at piloting thanks to all her years in GBN, Serena knew that in a 1v1 against Crank, this wouldn't be a good fight for her. Already her borrowed (read: hijacked) Graze was marking excess stress on all its servos and joints, a consequence of sub-par maintenance and the high impact maneuvers she had done with it without proper tuning. If she tried to match up with Crank's own Graze, it'd only be a matter of time until her machine gave out trying to keep up with the maneuvers she'd need to pull off to win.
Plus, as much as she loathed Gjallarhorn… she had nothing against Crank. Was he ignorant? Yes, unfortunately so, but he wasn't a bad person, merely blind to just how corrupt the organization he served truly was.
Not to mention that if the old man died, it'd just make Ein go down the same path as before. And that would cause a whole bunch of events that if she could, Serena would rather avoid at all. The question was, how…
Idly, she glanced to the side on the viewscreen to take in the battlefield, and that's when Serena noticed something that she had completely forgotten about. A something that was lying prone against the ground, from the moment she had stolen its weapon.
And in that moment, a devilish idea formed in her mind.
"Alright, change of plans, Mika," the ex-Diver called aloud once more. "You can help me a bit. You up for it?"
"Sure."
"Bueno. Here's what you're gonna do…"
-O-
There were very few ways things could go anymore wrong in this operation, and Crank did not want to tempt fate to see them.
The majority of their Mobile Worker forces destroyed or incapacitated, uncountable dead soldiers, one Graze destroyed, another immobilized and one stolen, all in an engagement against what should have been an impoverished mercenary company, by all accounts an opponent their forces should have had no issue fighting against.
And now this unknown Mobile Suit had arrived, one capable of totaling a Graze with a single hit, even in an incomplete state. Had the mercenaries planned to lure them in and take out their Mobile Suits all along? The thought of being tricked so thoroughly by guns-for-hire made Crank's frustrations peak, but right now he had no time for that. He had to salvage something out of this insanity, lest Gjallarhorn's honor be tainted even more.
Orlis and Prescott were gone, nothing to be done… but there was still Ein. Yes, if he could rescue Ein, and call for a retreat, they could still get something out of this—
Unfortunately, that is when things went decidedly more wrong.
The white suit that, only seconds ago, had stayed completely motionless, suddenly dashed forward with a speed Crank had never seen a Mobile Suit being capable of before, pulling its mace free as it went and charging straight towards him.
"Dammit-!"
Crank barely had time to drop his rifle and raise his axe into a makeshift twin-grip guard before the mace impacted, driving his Graze back several feet and pressing its arm close to its chest. The suit's servos groaned and trembled under the strain, but thankfully they held strong, allowing Crank to stare down the white suit now standing right in front of him, its emerald lenses staring right at his Graze's helmet.
"I don't know where you found a suit like this," Crank growled to the comms, trusting the contact between the suits to carry the signal. "But if you think it can stand against my Graze, you're sorely mistaken!"
With a strained grunt, Crank pushed his Graze forward, firing all boosters and pushing his axe to the side so the mace slid down to the ground, kicking up a large cloud of dust, but leaving him free to fight back, something that Crank quickly capitalized on by swinging his axe up to strike the white Mobile Suit's torso.
The enemy, however, used the mace's new position as a pivot to dodge the blow, its boosters flaring as the Mobile Suit spun around the mace's hilt to deliver a roundhouse kick, one Crank only barely managed to block with his Graze's free arm, and that still pushed him to the side so violently that Crank almost toppled over.
Acting quickly, Crank spread his Graze's legs enough to counterbalance the kick, then activated his thrusters once more, the suit gliding backwards with the blow enough to give the Gjallarhorn pilot just enough distance that he could properly regain balance and return to a good fighting stance. Rather than pressing the attack, however, the enemy Mobile Suit chose instead to land once more and bring its mace to bear, the large weapon still intact in spite of its apparent worn-down state.
"I don't have to win…" replied a tired, almost bored voice in return through the white suit's loudspeakers. A very young voice, Crank realized as the pit in his stomach grew larger, and his eyes widened. "I only have… to stall you."
And just like that, Crank's blood froze, right as he looked to the side and caught sight of the stolen Graze.
It was no longer standing near the base.
Rather, it was now standing on the open field, rifle once more in hand…
"Yo, old man."
And pointed at Ein's own fallen Graze, now pinned under the stolen Graze's heels.
"Here's how we're gonna do things," called out the woman from within the machine, her tone casual and downright playful as she spoke. "You and the rest of your fellas who aren't dead or dying are going to fuck right off, and leave us alone. If you don't… well."
BANG!
Crank flinched when he saw the rifle discharge, though to his immense relief, the round buried itself not on Ein's cockpit, but instead on the ground next to it.
"I haven't yet seen what a triple-digit round does to a human body, but I'd be happy to find that out with you."
"Damn you…" snarled Crank, his grip on the control levers tightening as he stared at his now-hostage subordinate. His mind raced for a solution to this, anything at all that would allow him to rescue his subordinate, but his thought process was quickly cut off by the sound of the white mobile suit slamming its mace down onto the ground, its optics shining once more as it readied to pounce at any moment. Suddenly, the stolen Graze's speakers crackled to life once more, allowing the woman to speak to him again.
"If it's any consolation to ya, old man, I'll take good care of the kid if ya leave," she spoke with an insultingly casual tone. "Well, as long as you don't try any funny business on the way out. Until then, I'll keep him clean and not dead for you to try and come pick back up."
And though he hated—no, seethed at the idea of conceding… Crank didn't have a choice.
So, with almost physical disgust, Crank lowered his stance, and instead fired a white retreat flare up to the skies, before turning his back to the mercenary base and boosting away. The lieutenant didn't care much to check for the retreating forces, he knew that at the very least, the survivors would be able to limp away back to base, though sadly nothing could be done for the dead or injured.
Nor for Ein.
Ein… All of you… I'm sorry…
And so, Crank Zent led one of the most disgraceful retreats of his career.
The mission to retrieve Kudelia Aina Bernstein… had been a failure.
-O-
The end to the conflict, Serena realized, was… eerily quiet.
There were no big shouts of victory, no celebration by the Third Group. The children simply… sagged, and began to fan out to perform post-battle duties: salvage, recovery of the injured, tally of losses, so on and forth. It was grim work, but the kids took to it with a normality that by all accounts, they should not have, but paradoxically did. Serena, however, could not focus on that. Instead, she was sitting inside the Graze's cockpit, trying to slow her breathing and calm her nerves.
She had been through plenty of Gunpla battles in the past, more than most GBN players could lay claim to. Being a part of the game since its beta-testing phase meant plenty of time to get in spats, tournaments, duels and so on, and her career as a data broker meant that more than once Serena had to fight for the intel or package she had been paid to procure.
But this… this was different. It was… ironically enough, too real. The destruction, the carnage, the death, it was all there, right in front of her eyes, just past the walls of the Graze's cockpit.
Or rather, on the walls of the Graze's cockpit.
xOx
"Wouldn't you know it… I guess I believe in God now."
Orlis just sat there, staring flabbergasted at the pistol aimed at him, his mouth opening and closing vainly as his brain attempted to catch up to this series of events. That left him exposed, the perfect target for Serena. All she had to do was pull the trigger.
Just… just pull the trigger, and…
… And kill him.
Kill a person. A living being, a human being, regardless of how despicable.
She…
…
S-she couldn't do it.
Her aim faltered, for just a brief moment, and the pistol found itself lowered. Maybe if she just tossed him off the cockpit, left him broken on the ground, it'd be enough… right?
Her hesitation, however, seemed to be what allowed Orlis' brain to reboot, the man's hand trembling badly as he reached for his own side-arm, his gaze panicked and fearful as he finally managed to unclasp the pistol's safety strap and started to pull it from its holster.
In that moment, something clicked inside Serena's brain.
…
BANG!
xOx
The existential crisis could wait, however. Right now, Serena had an entire situation to parse through, and a lot of it would be urgent, more so than the blood covering the pilot seat. Starting with the boy she had convinced to pilot even under the stress of a first-time Mobile Suit launch.
"Mika, you still up?" asked the ex-Diver, only barely keeping her tone below nervousness as she tried to fiddle with the Graze's tight-beam transmitter. "Talk to me, how you holding up?"
When he didn't immediately reply, Serena worried. When it took even longer, she started panicking. Before Serena could start clawing her way out of the cockpit and towards the Barbatos, however, the transmission finally went through, revealing Mika's current state.
It was… bad, but not as bad as Serena had thought. Blood still ran down from his nose and from his blood-shot eyes, but the boy was still conscious, which was better than what she remembered his first outing had been like in the show, and considering how there were no apparent muscle spasms or lockups, then neurological damage wasn't likely.
"Here…" replied Mika, the boy not even looking up at the screen as he took slow, deliberate breaths. "Tired…"
Serena was not shy with showing her relief at seeing Mika alive, the woman completely sagging against her seat as she let out a long, drawn-out breath, before finally cracking an eye open to stare at the boy with a grin. "Damn, Mika, you spooked me… Alright, I'll send someone over to unplug ya. Sit tight, and uh… try not to bleed and/or black-out."
"Yeah… sure…"
With that fear beaten back for the moment, Serena instead took hold of her own radio, and punched in both Liarina and Argi's frequencies. "Argi, status report."
"We're in the clear, everyone's safe," replied the young man with a tone far calmer and more serious than Serena's. "Guess we lucked out, whoever was in charge on Gjallarhorn's side didn't think of sending commandos in."
Thanks for being such a dumbass, Orlis…
"And Kudelia?"
"Still a bit shaken up, but alright."
"Same for me, thanks for asking," piped in Liarina with a huff. "I got Maruba's office locked down, all the belongings and money are still here."
"Good. If anyone from the First Group tries to get in, tell them off. If they get violent, rough them up," Serena added with a huff as she moved her Graze off Ein's prone MS and onto a kneeling position proper ground. "They're bound to be ticked off about this whole thing, we have to make sure they don't try to bail like Maruba… Speaking of which, where is he? Anyone got eyes on the land whale?"
"SUBJECT MARUBA ARKAY, LAST SEEN DEPARTING PREMISES ON AN UNARMED CIVILIAN VEHICLE," suddenly called out an M-Soldier through the radio. "DESTINATION LIKELY TO BE CHRYSE."
"Then he's not a problem anymore, good. Alpha, Beta and Zeta Squads, help the Third Group with their operations. Gamma, run cleaning ops and make sure no explosives are left on the field. Delta, grab a sarcophagus and bring it to my position, we got a POW that needs stabilizing. Let's go, people."
Right as she made to open the cockpit's hatch, however, Serena got a ping from the Machine Soldier, just as Argi and Liarina turned their own comms off. "ORDERS REGARDING SURVIVORS?" the robot asked, its tone as clinical as the rest of its brethren, but regardless, the question earned a pause from Serena.
One that did not last long. Even if it did cause a small part of her soul to die.
"… What survivors?"
"ACKNOWLEDGED."
And with that, the ex-Diver finally opened the cockpit, letting the slowly warming air of Mars buffet her exposed torso as she climbed out of the Graze, and worked the emergency lift out of its socket. The sand and dust pricked against her skin and eyes, her visor having been lost in the charge against Orlis, but Serena wasn't bothered much by it. It only served as proof that she was still alive, and that was enough for now.
Once she was on the ground, Serena walked over to Ein's fallen Graze and clambered her way up its body, sweat quickly building up against her body once more as she climbed the prone Mobile Suit all the way up to its cockpit. Once she did, she checked around for the emergency release lever, quickly finding it on the same spot as she had on Orlis' machine. Just as she went to activate it, however, Serena felt… something wash over her, something that made her reconsider her current course of action. Instead, the ex-Diver slid down the Graze's chest until she was completely hidden from view, but still within reach of the release lever, and only then did she turn it.
With a hiss of steam, and a pained groan from the no-doubtedly damaged servos of the hatch, the Graze's cockpit swung open…
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-!
Followed quickly enough by the telltale staccato of a handgun firing from within, the bullets whizzing through the empty space Ein no doubt expected Serena to be occupying. Instead, all they did was whizz through thin air and vanish into the distance, leaving Serena plenty of time to pull out one of the flashbangs she was still carrying, pull the pin and, after allowing the grenade to cook for a few seconds, throw it in front of the cockpit.
BANG!
Serena only had a few seconds to turn around and cover her ears before the grenade detonated, and even still the blast left her ears ringing. Still, as soon as the flash went off and the light died, the woman clambered up to the cockpit once more and dove right into it boots-first.
Crack!
"ARGH!"
At just the right angle to smash both her feet against the arm that Ein had been using to hold his now-empty pistol, smashing it at an awkward angle against the cockpit's interior and no doubt fracturing or breaking the bones.
The young man didn't have much time to ponder that, however, for the moment she was inside, Serena kicked the side of his head with enough force to send Ein straight into unconsciousness, leaving the Gjallarhorn lieutenant to slump like a sack of sand against his seat.
"For crying out loud, kid…" grumbled (read, almost shouted) Serena as she stared "down" at the young man, taking note of the small trickle of blood now running down the side of his head, and the small red blotches on the side of his uniform. Still, the deed was done, and now all she had to do was wait for Delta squad to bring the sarcophagus over, shove the young man into it, and then throw him into a cell. Easy work.
Now, however, came the hard part.
And the disgusting feeling at the bottom of her stomach only kept growing.
-O-
Headaches weren't something Mika got frequently enough that he'd grown used to them, but right now, he kind of wished he did. It would certainly help with the splitting pain he was feeling right now.
Piloting… Barbatos? Yes, that was the name… Piloting Barbatos had been nothing like his Mobile Worker at all. The data flow had made his brain ring like a bell the second the machine had been turned on, and even during the battle, he had felt electrical jolts all over his limbs when he did the more demanding moves. Not to mention the motion sickness from moving around so much while his viewpoint had been changed.
And yet… it had felt good. Right, even.
Mika had never given much thought about things outside of CGS, besides piloting his Mobile Worker and fighting whoever stood in Orga's way. But piloting this Mobile Suit… somehow, he felt like he had been born for this, somehow. Like this was the way he could help Orga the most.
Maybe… he'd do it again.
His thought process, however, was interrupted by the sound of the cockpit opening above him, shining the early sun beams right onto his eyes as Barbatos' systems shut off, and his seat was lifted towards the hatch's opening. And to Mika's mild amusement, the one waiting for him atop Barbatos' chest was the same person he knew was responsible for the Mobile Suit's restored state, standing there with a cheeky smile and one hand resting on her hip.
"Hey, you didn't pass out," said the horned merc as she leaned over and began tinkering with his Alaya-Vijnana connector. "You doing alright? All the body parts still work?"
"Yeah…" slurred the boy, his head suddenly growing a lot heavier now that the adrenaline spike was going away. "Kinda tired…"
"Heh, figures. Just gimme a sec…"
Even if he wanted, however, Mika didn't have the strength to move anymore. Instead, he hung like a limp bag of sand against the woman's grasp, until finally, he felt the connector cable and socket be removed, finally allowing the boy to sag in exhaustion against the merc woman's arms. The fact she was half-naked only mildly registered to his exhausted mind.
Still, even in the throes of passing out, Mika stayed conscious enough to ask one last question that niggled at the back of his mind.
"… How… many…?"
One that he just had to know. And though the woman didn't seem that eager to reply, she still did, right before he finally slipped away.
"… Twenty-six from the Third Group, fifty-three from the First Group… You did good, kid."
And with his answer given, bitter as it was, Mikazuki finally allowed himself to fall sleep.
"… I'm sorry…"
But not before those last whispered words reached his ears.
-O-
As he watched the rest of the Third Group take to work on the battlefield, Orga couldn't help but grimace at the sight.
Things hadn't gone as badly as he expected, even when the Mobile Suits had unexpectedly taken to the field, but the list of casualties was still going to be big. From atop the hill where CGS' base stood, the young man could see the many wrecked Mobile Workers belonging to the Third Group, pick-pocked with holes that had long stopped smoking or smashed by artillery, which were now being worked on by whatever kids were still uninjured or injured lightly enough to still be mobile, while at the same time doing the same to the Gjallarhorn machines left in the field.
… Bang…
That is, unless one of those PMC soldiers got to it first. Which most of the time, they did, the result being they'd either secure the wreck and move on, or they'd find an injured survivor, and—
… Bang…
… Well, "handle" them.
Brutal, but there would be no love lost between Orga and Gjallarhorn, especially after tonight. If the merc boss wanted to take out the soldiers left behind, then hell, she could do as she pleased. As long as it didn't blow up on their faces later, Orga was content with letting her do as she pleased.
Regardless, Orga still had two major things to worry about: whatever the survivors from the First Group had planned as retribution for his little stunt, and Mika's current state. The first, he'd deal with whenever it came, but Mika, he was worried about. Sending him out in the old Mobile Suit had been something Orga considered, as a desperation tactic if nothing else, but not only did Mika beat him to the punch, but someone had gotten the same idea at some point.
The question, however, was not only who, but how. And while Orga already had a good idea for the answer of the first, the second still eluded him. But he'd have time to ponder, or outright ask about it, later. Right now, he had to get things under control after the attack, and before the First Group came back.
"Mister Orga?"
Suddenly, a small and shy voice called out his name right from behind him, prompting Orga to turn towards the speaker. And to his surprise, there stood Atra Mixta, their usual supply runner, wringing her hands together and looking around uncertainly at the surrounding chaos.
"Oh, Atra… hey there," was Orga's very eloquent response to her arrival, the young man rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "Right, you had deliveries today… Sorry, but things are a little hectic right now."
"Y-Yeah, I noticed… the boys at the front gate wouldn't let me in until Biscuit showed up. What happened?"
"Sorry, Atra, but I can't talk without the First Group authorizing."
That was a lie, obviously, but Atra didn't need to know that. Telling her that Gjallarhorn had shown up from out of nowhere and killed so many of the kids she no doubt knew from her deliveries was too harsh a thing to drop so suddenly on her. Better that she learns of it later, when everything wasn't so "fresh", so to speak.
Especially with Mika still unaccounted for—
"Eyo, boss man, got a delivery for you."
That is, when yet again a newly arrived voice echoed from behind Orga, only this time he had the added experience of seeing Atra both gasp in shock andturn red as a tomato. And when Orga turned around to meet this speaker, his reaction of sputtering and choking on his own tongue was not much more dignified.
Considering that he was staring at a half-naked woman walking up to them without a care in the world, and with Mikazuki draped across her shoulders like a sack of flour, Orga considered his reaction very much appropriate.
"You'd think you two never saw tits before," said the merc casually as she approached them, stopping only when she was just a few steps away from Orga. "Area is secure, Gjallarhorn's gone, Kudelia's safe. I'm calling it a win."
"What happened to Mika?!" asked Atra frantically, the girl moving from behind Orga to get closer to both Serena and her erstwhile package. "Is he alright?!"
"Don't worry, he's just a bit tuckered out. He just needs a bit of sleep, is all."
The woman's tone and words sounded genuine enough, with her even lowering herself slightly to ruffle Atra's hair, but Orga could tell there was… uncertainty smothered beneath, something that made the young man immediately go on guard, enough that it made his decision to question the woman shift from later to now. "Wanna explain why he's like that, then?" asked Orga carefully, one eye reflexively closed as he stared down at the woman. She, in return, looked at him curiously, before rising to her full height once more.
It was rare that Orga was forced to look up to stare at someone's face, and this was one of them. The merc was tall, more than anyone Orga had met, including some of the burlier members of the First Group, though certainly not as wide, but it still made the kind, almost apologetic look she had that much more paradoxical. "It's the feedback from having piloted the Mobile Suit. He's not used to a data flow that intense, so it knocked him unconscious after he unplugged," she said softly, only stopping to look over her shoulder at the still-asleep Mikazuki. "It ain't all that unusual. He really just needs some sleep, and he'll be all better."
"Alright, that part I can trust no problem," Orga replied, his tone carefully calm as he took a glance of his own at his oldest friend, before returning his attention to the mercenary. "Here's the second question, then: how did that thing get prepped so fast?"
That question landed as he expected, if the minute flinch she tried to hide was any indication. Credit where it was due, she recovered quite fast, instead heaving out a long sigh. "Yeah, figures you'd ask that, huh…" she muttered tiredly, running one hand past her horns (natural horns at that, what the hell…) and through her hair. "I found the Mobile Suit while I was walking around the place, checking out for security breaches. And since I'm a huge nut for them, I… started poking around on it, tried to fix it up as best I could."
"Without anyone's permission?"
"You really think Maruba would have given it?"
Another dodge, this one more subtle. She was good, Orga had to admit, and that meant he wouldn't be getting an answer to that anytime soon. Instead, the young man let out a huff, and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Okay, last question then: was it your idea for Mika to pilot that thing?" he asked testily, brow furrowing minutely. When he saw confusion cross the woman's face again, he decided to press forward. "Right after you left to steal that Graze, Mika told me he was gonna pilot that thing."
Realization dawned on the woman's face, and in return, she firmly shook her head in denial. "No, I had nothing to do with that. If Mika chose to pilot the Gundam, he did it himself."
Idly, Orga noted that at least now he had a name for the giant machine that had been left to rot inside their base: Gundam. For some reason, Orga felt it fit the white Mobile Suit perfectly, but for the life of him, he didn't know why.
However, any further questions or thoughts about the subject were stopped when two things caught Orga's attention:
One, a whole group of those weird soldiers the merc had brought along, both carrying and escorting a medical coffin with a young man Orga had never seen before inside.
Two, a convoy of Mobile Workers he knew belonged to the First Group was slowly approaching the base, not one of them having come out unscathed from their little unexpected aid in the battle.
"And here comes the cavalry…" muttered the woman darkly, before turning to Atra. "Hey, kid."
"Oh, y-yes?" asked the girl, only to let out a shocked eep! when the merc suddenly heaved Mika over her shoulder and deposited the kid on Atra's arms, the young girl almost toppling over from the weight.
"Be a dear and carry him back to his room, would you?"
"W-W-Wait a minute, you can't just-!"
"Great, thanks!" With that done, the merc then looked down at herself, before returning her attention to Orga. "Mind if I borrow the coat? They don't deserve the nice view."
It was such an out-of-the-blue request, and caught Orga so off-guard, that at first, the young man didn't quite know how to respond. But finally, after a long pause, the Third Group leader gave an honest chuckle, before slowly removing his coat and offering it to the woman. "Atra, can you get Mika back inside?"
The girl at first didn't answer, too busy trying to properly adjust Mika's unconscious body in her grasp. Finally, however, she gave a shaky nod, and slowly began to walk away, hefting the sleeping boy as best she could before taking off in a power walk-slash-waddle, leaving Orga and the merc alone as the Mobile Workers drove past, followed by a gaggle of tired and injured men who, bar none, were staring at the ground in desolation.
"Poor bastards…" muttered the merc as she watched them walk by, her bare torso now somewhat concealed by the two-sizes-too-small coat Orga had borrowed her, before leaning down so she could whisper into his ear. "I take it they won't be happy with your little scheme, huh?"
"Probably not, aye," he replied sotto voice, one eye warily kept on the lead vehicle, the one he knew Haeda was inside of. "By the way, I never asked your name, did I?"
"Serena Durandal."
"Nice to meetcha. You can let me handle this, though, this is my problem."
"Yeah, true… Or, hear me out!" and saying that, the woman wrapped one thick arm around his shoulders, turned around, and proceeded to bodily start to drag Orga away, the young man letting out a surprised yelp in response. "We can let them stew in anger a bit, have you dodge the consequences a bit while I go take a shower, and later, we deal with this. I'll even be there to look scary and keep ya safe!"
And while at first, Orga made to complain, the sound of Haeda screaming bloody murder demanding for "those brats to show up" made his decision quite easy to choose, the young man instead merely giving an annoyed huff. "Is this gonna be how things are gonna go, now?"
"Obviously," replied the woman shamelessly with a grin. "It's just too much fun!"
Said answer elicited another huff, this time an amused one.
The coming days sure looked interesting…
-O-
After what felt like the longest walk of her life, Atra finally managed to carry Mika to a room she remembered being unused, the young girl's every breath coming out as a strained effort as she did her vested best to keep Mikazuki from falling to the ground. The amount of dried blood she had seen on his chest already made the girl worry enough, but that weird horned lady had said he just needed sleep, and she seemed nice enough, so Atra was willing to trust her a bit.
Finally, she reached the door, and after a bit of finagling and a series of sounds she was very thankful no one had been around to hear, Atra managed to get the door open…
"Oh?"
Only to almost faceplant to the ground with a panicked scream when she was met not with an empty room, but an occupied one, and by that famous lady she had seen more than once helping around the base, at that, along with her sort-of-scary assistant.
Thankfully, years of working in the brothel carrying heavy loads helped Atra regain her balance enough to not land on her face, but the effort still made the girl stumble into the room in quite an un-lady-like way, before she finally stopped.
"I-I'm sorry, I thought this room was empty!" said Atra a bit more loudly than she had wanted. "I-I'll just be going right now!"
"No, it's quite alright… you can stay."
The reply that came from the blonde girl was soft and caring, just like how the shop owner's own would be when speaking to Atra. Even after hearing her talk to the other kids during meal times, it felt strange to have someone so important and famous show so much care to a bunch of orphans and child soldiers, or be willing to do something as mundane as asking a girl so much younger than her for help in learning how to cook.
And it was stranger still to see the young woman (Kudelia, that was her name!) stand up from where she had been sitting at the bed, walk over to Atra, and gently take hold of Mika's still-sleeping form. "Here, allow me," she said, letting out only a mild huff of exertion as she did her best to raise the boy's body off Atra's grasp. Together, both girls carried the limp pilot over to the bed, Kudelia's assistant pulling the sheets back to clear space for Mika to be laid on. And finally, after such a long trip, the young girl was freed from her burden once her oldest friend was finally put onto the bed, his expression still as tranquil as ever, even with half his body covered in blood.
Not a moment too soon, Kudelia's assistant (Fumitan, wasn't it?) went to rummage around some of the boxes piled at the corner of the room, and withdrew from one of them a small first-aid kit that she laid atop the bed, opened, and withdrew from inside a pile of gauze and some cleaning alcohol, which she then promptly put to use cleaning all the dried blood covering Mika's body.
All three women remained in that companiable silence, two of them watching the third one work on wiping Mikazuki clean, until finally, Kudelia was the one to break the silence.
"He's… quite incredible, isn't he?" asked the heiress with a sad smile, her gaze turning away from the sleeping boy and to the girl standing beside her. Atra, in return, gave the heiress a saddened smile of her own, one of her hands unwittingly moving to grasp at the rope bracelet hanging from her wrist.
"Yeah… he really is."
-O-
Meanwhile, in a corner on the opposite side of the base, Serena had finally found a vacant washroom that she had quickly claimed for herself, even making sure to lock the door and posting two M-Soldiers on the hallway to keep an eye for any unexpected visits. This had left the woman free to undress at peace inside, her sweat and grime-covered clothes tossed to a corner of the washroom while she did her best to scrub her body clean with the few cleaning supplies that had been on-hand.
The water, thankfully, had been warm enough that the process of cleaning herself had been easy enough, the water at her feet slowly turning various shades of brown as she finally rid herself of all the sand clinging to her skin, finally allowing the ex-Diver to, if only briefly, forget everything that had happened just hours ago.
Idly, Serena ran her hand over her body, feeling her fingers brush up her torso, over her face, and through her hair…
… Squish…
That is, until she brushed over something slimy and wet that most certainly was not water.
Slowly, Serena withdrew her hands back, stepped out from beneath the shower, and pulled her hands back to stare at her fingers.
Her fingers, that from tip to the middle joint, were now covered in blood, a slimy fluid, and a few bits of pink flesh that slowly slid off her hands and onto the floor.
Her breathing sped up, her eyes went wide and pupils shrank, the water splashing against her feet feelingjust like the blood and brain leaking from Orlis' headwound, splattered against the back of the cockpit, his dead-eyed gaze staring at nothing as he slumped onto the seat, a large hole bored right in the middle of his forehead as she grabbed him by his coat and tossed him out of the cockpit to splat against the ground—
"H-Hurgh!"
Her stomach churned, a hand clamped over her mouth, and Serena barely had time to turn away from the shower before she fell to all fours, and she vomited all over the floor. Bile and saliva splashed against the grimy floor and mixed with the water that was draining away, some of it getting stuck to her hair. Even when Serena had put everything out, she still dry heaved, her head feeling like it was going to explode as the woman tried to draw in ragged, panicked breaths, her limbs trembling violently until finally, she could take no more, and she fell to the wet floor, mercifully away from everything she had thrown up.
And in the solitude of the washroom, heard only by two uncaring machines standing outside the room, Serena Durandal cried, desperately and uncontrollably.
~O~
A bit shorter than the usual chapter, and definitely shorter than the last chapter, but I wanted to put this out before I lost control.
The events of episode 2 were kind of half a retelling of what we saw happen in episode 1, if from another PoV, plus characters reacting to what went down. So instead, I expanded a bit on the reactions, and next chapter we'll have Coral's reaction to the failure, Goetia's next meeting, and of course, Tekkadan's little mutiny.
Now, a couple of news to close it up:
1- For all you wonderful folks outside of SpaceBattles, we now have art for Serena's appearance, done by the wonderful OatsMegaPlus, aka the CEO of Robots! It's been posted on SpaceBattles, and of course, I couldn't have gotten it without the support of my wonderful Pa-tro-ns! Now, remember, if you all wanna see even more amazing art for this fic or others, remember to hit up my Pa-tre-on page, same name as my username for my profiles that I post my writing, aka TheLandMaster45! Everyone that signs up gets to see WIPs for the chapter that I'm working on every Wednesday, and when possible, sketches for artwork paid for with Pa-tre-on money!
2- Today, my month of vacation from work ended, so I am back to limited time of writing after work, or my days off. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep up a good rate of writing, so I'll be doing my absolute best to not disappoint, but well… we'll see.
As an addendum to the two points above, I'd like to apologize for the slowdown even during this month. Things have been… well, to put it mildly, harsh here at home. Doing my best to ignore and/or handle it, but it took a toll on my writing drive, so I took a few days to just shut off and play games, which cost me writing time. Again, I am SO sorry for it.
I'm also taking the opportunity to shill my Pa-tre-on page not only for art for my fics, but also to help with bills, since the money would help a lot with keeping things afloat here at home.
… Alright, enough sad.
Next thing I'll be doing will either be the rewriting needed for Special Delivery, or next chapter for Drift with Purpose, whichever hits hardest the next days. I wanna get a lot of work done for August, so I can lose myself in Armored Core 6.
Until next time, fellas!