The initial clamor stung. Alarmed Zoids scattered in an animal panic. The rest was surprisingly silent.
The black Organoid had been quick to single out an unfortunate Rev Raptor. There were many of them here; the small, cheap Zoids were more trouble for Backdraft to quickly relocate than they were worth.
They - and all the other "worthless" Zoids - had simply been left behind. Not having been outfitted with sleeper units or placed into any kind of standby, they'd also effectively been buried alive. The best they could hope for was several slow decades of dehydration and starvation. By that token, this may have been a mercy.
But there wasn't much to watch. One had vanished into the Raptor and it'd collapsed shortly after. Vega stared, fixated on the Zoid, watching it twitch and keen with what he knew was pain. The Raptor gradually went slack, dying... then dead.
Brimming with One's delight, Vega just grinned. It was fine. This was all fine. That Zoid didn't matter.
It'd only been a few minutes. One sat crouched in the small, empty Core chamber. Licking its chops, licking the floor of the chamber, comfortably full.
Sated, for the time being.
He only needed one bag, and by mid-morning it was mostly packed.
Naomi appeared in the doorway behind him. She watched Brad neatly position things, the precision of practice. "Going somewhere?"
Brad paused, but didn't look at her. "Mackaray."
"Mmhm. And you were going to mention this when?"
As Brad turned to face her, she quickly noticed his shirt shift over an occupied holster on his hip. She raised a questioning brow.
Brad's face made it clear that he considered lying. He sighed instead. "I wasn't going to mention it. I want to go take care of some things. Ambient's coming with me and the Fox. It shouldn't take long."
Naomi's unamused intrigue grew. "Brad. You just barely look like you weren't run over by a Gustav. And you want to run off into the mountains - with that thing, armed - to… 'take care' of what, exactly?"
Brad took a deep breath.
"The Backdraft people who fucked us over. Then I'm going to figure out what to do about that base. I know where it is now."
Naomi's blinked, dully. "Come again? You're going to find them, how? And a base. A whole base. I'm sorry, you and what army are going to do… what?" She flicked her hand. "Just tell the ZBGF and they'll take care of it."
"You told me how 'seriously' they took your concerns about Backdraft." Brad's words were blunt.
Naomi's jaw visibly set.
"Besides." Brad said. "That base is all in the forest and underground. Not really their areas of expertise."
"Nor are they yours. Again: what exactly are you planning to do?"
For a moment, Brad just stared. It was somewhat unsettling.
"I want us to feel safe again."
"Are we not?" The woman's brows arrowed together. "Do you not feel safe?"
"No. I don't. We were ambushed, and I was fucked with. For weeks. And you? They just left you. To die. " His voice plunged with anger. "We meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. We're not here to be discarded."
The mention of Naomi's near-death plight dragged an unsettled scowl to her face. Brad's severe manner struck a nerve she'd been gnawing on, herself. "They're Backdraft, Brad. Not known for their upstanding behavior."
"Well, I don't know about you. But I'm not putting up with that shit anymore."
Soft-spoken. Serious. There was no wild haze of conviction or need for justice in his eyes. Just a simple and straightforward decision, as if he'd walked up and paid himself handsomely to take on the task.
Naomi studied the man's face.
"That so?"
"Mm-hmm." Brad approached and gently nudged Naomi to a wall. She allowed it, glaring up at him with a mock-defiance. He leaned down to her level and was met with a deep, assertive kiss.
As they parted, she lifted a hand and took hold of his jaw, gently dissuading him from standing upright again. "You do know you're not going anywhere without me, right?"
Brad grinned in her grasp. He slipped his hands behind her back, ran them sensually down behind her thighs, and lifted her with ease. Naomi wrapped a leg around his hip, looking down her nose at him with a feigned condescension.
"You're still working for me, after all."
Brad's smile grew. "Oh, yes ma'am."
"So."
Sara glanced at Steve, who'd spoken. People starting conversations this way had many options.
"I've been dying to know. How'd the Berserk Fury get into the Royal Cup, anyways?"
Sara looked back to her datapad and sipped from a bitter cup of powdered tea. It didn't go quite as well with breakfast as coffee did, but for some reason there wasn't any coffee.
"Bribes."
"Really? That's it?"
She shrugged, uninterested. "Simple. Works."
Steve took a bite of dry toast, looking disappointed. "Yeah. Just thought that the ZBC was a little more. I don't know. Upstanding."
The fall in the man's voice prompted Sara to smirk. Did people actually look up to the ZBC and ZBGF? It was truly difficult for her to fathom. She glanced at him again, arching a brow.
"The Commission's as corrupt as they come. They do put on a good show, though. I'll give them that."
"Ehhh." Steve made a skeptical, unhappy sound, his nose wrinkling. "Charged particle weapons aren't safe."
The woman chuckled. "No weapon's safe. Charged particle weapons just… ensure compliance."
Steve thought about the stone Berserk Fury outside. Even dead, the Zoid still made him nervous. "Not sure about that. Maybe back in war days. They're not registration-legal weapons for a reason."
A grin. The delight that flashed in Sara's eyes wasn't unlike that of a cat who'd just found a mouse to toy with. "Dr. Toros. I find it hard to believe you've never considered why the term registration-legal even exists."
Steve squinted at the formal address. "Of course I've considered. It's for safety."
Sara very, very deliberately folded her datapad onto the counter, giving the man her full attention. "You don't sound convinced."
Still fresh in Steve's mind was the visit he'd been paid, officers from the ZBC and ZBGF showing up regarding the discharge of a particle weapon. Only a handful of the weapons were known to exist, and while it wasn't technically illegal to have them, it was illegal to use them and also not possible to register Zoids that had had such equipment installed.
Dry toast and mild anxiety didn't mix well. Steve lost his appetite, set his food down and shook his head. "It was irresponsible of Backdraft to create something like that."
It was Sara's turn for a drop in expression. "Backdraft didn't create the Berserk Fury. Just outfitted it with armor." She visibly pondered her word choice. "It was... recovered."
Steve inclined his head, curious. But he looked aside sharply and seemed to think better of it. "...mmh. Doesn't really matter anymore."
Sara sighed. "Really doesn't, does it."
Bit awoke, a stripe of sunlight across his face.
He was nestled in a sleeping bag, hemmed in on his either side by the firm pressure of metal - comfortably mashed between his Organoid and Zoid, respectively. Zero's large body was warm in places, cool in others - and quite smooth compared to the subtly-pitted surface of the Liger's paw.
Observers may not have thought the arrangement comfortable, but Bit couldn't think of any other place he'd rather be. The Liger above was idle, asleep. Zero's optics were still dim with sleep as well.
Bit reached and ran a gentle hand along the side of the Organoid's face, nails carefully scratching key contours. Zero rumbled pleasantly and brightened an optic, rolling more towards the blonde.
A chuckle, and Bit leaned his forehead to the Organoid. There was a simple, complete, thorough pleasure to being with both Zero and his Zoid. It was something he'd never experienced prior the two differentiating, but now that he knew it? He couldn't imagine being without it again.
It really was the kind of thing he wanted to talk to someone about. But he really didn't have anyone to talk with about it.
He sat up a little, looking around for Vega.
Vega would probably get it. But Bit wasn't really sure, and didn't want to bring up the blatant sore-spot of the Fury. Too often he'd seen Vega standing at the hangar's uneven threshold, glowering at his dead Zoid.
A full-body shudder. Bit couldn't help it.
He'd admit it to himself and no-one else: the Berserk Fury had terrified him. Not at the Royal Cup, of course - but afterwards. He'd never experienced a fear that profound, and hoped never to again. He'd never wanted this distinction in his head, but had it now: there were battles for fun, and battles for real.
The latter's existence uncomfortably tarnished the former.
Bit had every confidence he'd still be able to excel in sanctioned battles once they restarted. And he wanted to look forward to the challenges promised by Class S.
But it all rang so hollow.
He had more money than he'd ever dreamed possible. He had everything he'd ever really needed, wanted - and more. Over the past week in particular, things had felt so surreal he occasionally wondered if he'd wake up in his junk truck, the texture of the steering wheel imprinted on his face. Having dreamt the whole thing.
Zero idly rasped its tongue from the blonde's shoulder to his ear. There wasn't a damn thing to worry about, and they both knew it.
Bit stifled a smile, simply unable to believe his good fortune.
His searching green eyes also finally found Vega and One. The two were curled up and asleep in the dark recess created by a small stack of crates. The black Organoid usually gave Bit sharp regard when their focus met, but not this time. One was unusually relaxed-looking, deeply asleep.
As was Vega.
Bit glanced outside, trying to guess what time it was. Late morning, he supposed.
No real reason to wake anyone regardless. It wasn't as if anything was going on. With a massive yawn the blonde stood, stretched, and plodded off to find breakfast.
Zero rolled onto its back and yawned also, content to just lay in the sun.
It was always such a relief to see the deserts recede and to plunge into cool, deep green forest - a private delight to watch the blinding sun disappear into the flickering mottle of foliage. Almost a reverie: Brad silently thanked the stars that such a simple pleasure hadn't been stripped from him.
He'd had the mild, but unspoken concern that his mind may now want to associate the wilderness and its precious solitude with things going sideways. But that wasn't the case.
He and Naomi had come here for much more than solitude, however. A lot more observation than usual was called for. There were signs of recent Zoid activity in the area, though 'recent' was relative - a lot of it seemed to represent an exodus that had passed.
After two fruitless days of searching and scouting, Brad began considering continuing on towards Mount Iselina. But both he and the Fox then spotted it: a single, fresh track barely pressed into a soft patch in the muddy forest floor.
The Shadow Fox looked it over. Brad didn't get the details of its analysis, but they didn't matter - he got the Zoid's confidence it was their quarry. He nodded absently, having the Fox slow to a crawl as it flared its sensory equipment.
Nothing hostile in the immediate vicinity.
The Gun Sniper crept up beside the Fox after a few minutes, its stalk careful and deliberate. The two Zoids softly chittered as their pilots spoke in equally hushed tones. Naomi had expressed serious doubt that the Geno Saurers would still be anywhere in the region - but Brad and the Fox thought otherwise, Brad positing that perhaps the group had hung around to watch for activity around the base.
It'd also serve Backdraft and the Fuma Team's interests to keep the Geno Saurers well-hidden in caves or forested areas, as opposed to unnecessarily risking them on open terrain. Once the initial shock of their appearance at the Royal Cup had worn off, it was obvious that they'd be sought after - for a multitude of reasons.
Brad glanced skyward and wondered if the ZBC's new Satellite was able to see through the foliage any better than its predecessors.
Battles weren't held in densely forested areas for both practical and security reasons. Not only did dense permagrowth provide deep visual occlusion (what fun was that to watch?), the high metallic content of the trees threw off the long-range sensors of Judges and Satellites.
It was part of what made the Fox so special. To it, the lush mountain forests became as transparent and navigable as any other terrain. Combined with its snappy algorithmic ability to trace paths through dense trees...
The couple stopped for the evening and made a small, tight camp as had become their usual. They slept in the Fox's cockpit, while Ambient rested on the ground below.
Even with Naomi asleep in his arms, the two buried in a blanket in one of the safest places he could think of - his Fox - Brad lay awake, staring silently into the dark.
They were in no danger. That's why they weren't in a tent, weren't on the ground. The confines of a wide one-seat cockpit was but a small price to pay for security.
The Fox stood, at rest. Its CPU was idle and command system background but a soft hum.
Every time Brad started to doze, he'd recall the silence and abandonment of being left in a tiny cell for days on end. And every time he startled awake, he felt the panicked sting of being brought out only to satiate the Fury, to feel the questionable snaps of flesh and bone below th-
Brad sharply inhaled and opened his eyes.
From below, Ambient glanced up at the cockpit.
That was certainly something he wished he could get out of his head.
But oh, how he missed the Fury.
He hated the thought, hated himself for the thought. But remembering how it felt to pilot scratched a deep itch. It felt dangerous to indulge, but painful to ignore, and he just wanted to dig nails into that aching edge of his thoughts, just remember, just think about it, just-
Naomi stretched, shifting against him. Brad froze to let her move as she wanted, untensing slightly as she pressed close again. She pulled the blanket taut over them both, and resumed the deep, even breathing of sleep.
Brad ran a hand down Naomi's side and closed his eyes again, somewhat more relaxed.
Ambient yawned, watching a light snow begin to fall. It rumbled softly to itself and curled up to sleep.