Brad awoke, warm and comfortable in the Shadow Fox's cockpit. Naomi lay on top of him, asleep.
He watched her quietly, loath to move or disturb her in any way.
~Moo'rnin' lad,~ Ambient said from somewhere outside. ~Snowed again, but nae too much. Took care'a the trash. Ah've been thinking. Y'mentioned there were four members of this group, but onl'eh three attacked you. All th'Genos are accounted for. What of this fourth?~
Brad's eyes flicked, thoughtfully. Yes - the Fuma Team did have four members, and he only recalled being attacked by three. He also remembered Steve talking about only three Geno Saurers, from the Royal Cup.
Obviously, one of the Fuma Team hadn't been involved. At least not directly.
Brad recalled the comm conversation that the Fox overheard. He glanced in Ambient's direction and opened his mouth to reply, but paused.
Naomi. Sleeping. Right.
She didn't care for these half-conversations anyways.
Brad squinted with the effort of responding silently. The other guy's operating out of a Whale King somewhere around here.
~Ah. Shouldnae be too difficult t'find.~
Brad agreed, lay his head back, and closed his eyes. Maybe we can take care of things, and Naomi can head home. I'll ask her when she wakes up.
There wasn't much time pressure. Sure, it'd be wise to wrap things up sooner rather than later. But most of what needed to be done, was done.
Ambient snorted. ~Ah'll never understand why y'let a female lead your clan.~
Brad cracked an eye. It's- it's her Team. It's her apartment. I'm just on it. In it.
~Team's a word foo'r humans' idiotic sports. Y'live in the same place, you've got th'dick, you're mates. It's your clan.~ Ambient glanced, in-mind. ~She pregnant yet?~
Both of the man's eyes opened, and he blinked. Several times.
She- what? No. She doesn't want kids.
~And?~
The Organoid's implication prompted a squint. And that's a complete sentence. I don't want any either.
Ambient tilted its head, but quickly acquiesced. ~Hmh. With as much as you two fuck, I assumed you wanted t'breed.~ A laugh. ~Ah mean. Works for me. Nae like we need anymore of y'damn humans runnin' around.~
It felt a little off to agree. But Brad's long-standing affair with solitude had him nod idle agreement.
~Ah'd probably eat it anyways.~ Ambient added, thoughtfully.
Brad stared into empty space for a long moment.
He somehow didn't doubt this.
Sweat streaming down his arms and jawline. The uncomfortable slip of his hands in his gloves. Or- wait. That was all blood, not sweat. He'd never seen so much of his own blood before.
The damaged omnisensor in the Liger Zero's cockpit left him feeling blinded on one side. He kept wanting to juke the controls that way, to ensure any movement would likely cross his field of view.
It was almost impossible to concentrate. He was light-headed. He wanted to vomit.
The whine of powerful servos, a hollow whiff, a crash. The sound of metal slicing air then slamming shut - jaws and fangs, as designed - was horrifying, so close. He could feel the shuddering vibrations of every slam, the thin shriek of the Berserk Fury's massive teeth barely touching. How many times had he managed to avoid it?
He'd stopped thinking about it. Because he didn't have the bandwidth to. Because it didn't matter. A single mistake would end everything. His life depended on perfection.
He panicked. He didn't remember panicking.
What if he'd fucked up? Would there be time to regret it? Would there be time to feel fear? Would it hurt?
He wasn't sure; this wasn't a memory. But it certainly felt like one, as the shriek of buckling structure and glass were the last things he could recall before-
Bit bolted upright in a cold sweat, shivering in the morning air.
Zero's massive body lay curled around the blonde like a fence. Its optics dimly lit, and it turned its head towards him.
~A dream.~ The Organoid said softly. ~It is alright. You are safe.~
Bit calmed, but adrenaline kept him trembling.
He'd off-and-on had nightmares about the fight with the Fury. Alone, they were manageable, and perhaps to be expected. But in conjunction with the random memories of Zero's...
The massive Organoid leaned close and darted its tongue gently across Bit's neck and shoulders. It felt weird, but nice. The blonde relaxed into it, quite alright with Zero helping dissipate his anxieties.
When he opened his eyes again, he was surprised to see Polta standing not far off. Silent but distinct in the early dawn's light, the lanky man was watching, curious.
He looked away at Bit's notice.
Bit was still working through the finer details of interacting with Zero. Though there was no friction to speak of between him and the Organoid, he couldn't help but feel an occasional awkwardness as far as the many pairs of prying eyes in the base went.
After all, Zero wasn't One, and Bit wasn't Vega. Everyone wanted a handle on this new situation, and Bit was the safe go-to.
He both resented and was glad for this. Which made little sense... but what had made sense lately?
Bit glared at Polta. He did know he wasn't okay with this man's regard. The Blitz Team had a number of unpleasant run-ins with Backdraft under their belt: Polta had been at the fore more than once.
How Steve could brush that all aside and be so trusting, Bit wasn't sure. But Zero glanced at Polta and didn't seem bothered, so Bit cooled off.
He stood and slipped an overshirt on, green eyes fixed on the man across the way.
Polta finally looked at Bit again.
"I'm not here to rob the place."
"Uh-huh." Bit didn't bother with subtlety. "Don't really trust you, dude. If Doc says you can stay, I guess you can. But don't touch anything." He forked fingers between his eyes and the other man.
Polta showed his palms, and shook his head. "Kid. When someone tries to put a bullet in your head, it changes who you work for. Real fast."
Bit stared for a few seconds. "Backdraft tried to kill you?"
A nod. The man squinted into the dim dawn sky with suspicion. "Unfortunately. I liked working with… ah, the ambitious." Fear stiffened people, and Polta certainly stiffened as he rocked in his boots. "Not a gamble that played out in my favor."
Bit continued to stare, skeptical. But he couldn't ignore the edge that Zero's added perception provided: it wasn't an act. The other man really was afraid.
"Why would you ever choose to join Backdraft to begin with? What kind of idiot works for people who'll shoot you?"
"Everyone needs a job." Polta said. "And, you know. Things aren't normally so… bad."
"No, I don't know. And I don't really care to, to be honest. Backdraft ruins people's lives and livelihoods."
Polta set his jaw and studied the floor. "As does the ZBC and the ZBGF. And they're far worse." His eyes flicked up. "Don't see anyone complaining about that."
"What are you talking about?"
Polta mimed a familiar motion, one of brandishing Zoid Gear. "A lot of pilots in Backdraft are banned from registrable activities. Blacklisted."
Bit's brows furrowed. "Nobody gets blacklisted lightly. That's the final penalty for serious, repeat offenses. Zoids can be dangerous."
The lanky man chuckled, sighed, and idly rubbed one temple.
"Business as usual out here, I see."
Dark quarters and tangled sheets.
What'd begun the previous night as a few drinks, had escalated significantly - by design.
It was easy to bed someone obviously responding to your presence. She'd expected mediocrity and the typical insight intimacy provided. Expected to sleep in a more comfortable bed than the guest quarters, mainly.
Sara knew her strengths in this realm and used them with skill, just as she had in Backdraft for many years. Though she'd found the Organization's brutal politics relatively simple to navigate over time, the game became simpler and simpler still when you could see everyone's hand.
And that was something easily glimpsed in people at their most vulnerable. Whether they were driven by lust, power fantasies, or vague hopes of affection - it didn't matter. They were all ultimately the same, easily used and easily discarded.
Alteil was one of the few, and one of the first, to completely shut her down. He was gay.
Sara stared at Steve's face, silent.
The man was asleep, bunched-up sheets pulled close to his chest.
She'd been encouraging him, perhaps a bit too much. He hadn't acted on urges she knew he felt. He was deliberate, gentle, and just as careful and caring as his attitude towards her elsewhere had implied.
It couldn't be this easy.
Sara had long ago discovered she had a certain way with people: if she knew enough about them, and could hold their attention, with effort she could make suggestions.
Suggestions that rarely stayed suggestions.
But Steve? He didn't resist her. He didn't even try. He could be nudged in just about any direction, and made to consider most things. Sara had never encountered anyone so blatantly weak like this before, and wasn't sure what to make of it.
No… weak was the wrong word. Tired. The man felt tired. Resigned.
Not what she expected, and certainly not what she assumed would underlie the manager of a Team that'd won the Royal Cup a scant few months ago.
She'd set out to dominate, but there was nothing here to conquer. Just a lonely, sad, middle-aged man who'd invited her in. As out of place as she felt in the Blitz Team base, was as out of place as she felt in this situation. Sara frowned.
She did owe Steve gratitude. She wasn't thankless.
Steve had, in her mind, saved Vega's life. Hers as well. If not directly, then indirectly - by simply allowing them to stay here, stay hidden. By simply not throwing them out to the ZBGF on that quiet, smoky night.
He'd done that all on his own, despite the reservations etched on every inch of his face.
Vega would have likely been fine at that point. With that Organoid by his side, Sara felt confident he could stay out of danger. Talking to him more about the creature had only cemented the notion.
But her?
The entire debacle with the Fury was on her. Not just more recently, but the ruinous Royal Cup as well. Her alignment of the Committee had taken ages; with their active distrust, it would be impossible to set up again. Worse: she'd already been given her second chance, and managed only to make grievous wounds deeper.
It wasn't her fault, nor was it her intent. And there really wasn't anything else she could've done. But she knew that didn't matter.
She'd made people vanish, for less.
Sara shifted to lay on her side with a sigh, her back to Steve.
Just a few months ago she'd thought everything was under control. Now years of struggle seemed in vain, her own future - and Vega's - left uncertain.
After a few quiet moments, Steve's hand found her shoulder and gently ran down her arm several times.
Sara closed her eyes.
"Quit with the bullshit! No one has to join Backdraft!" Bit snapped.
"If they run out of options topside, yeah, they kind of do. At least in bigger cities." Polta shrugged. "That's why a lot of recruiting goes on in bars."
"Cool, cool. Taking advantage of drunk folks down on their luck." Bit made a motion as if dropping something tiny. "Do you drug 'em too?"
Polta sighed. "Working with Zoids in any capacity is a skill. One that can take years to develop. It's valuable. Not something anyone should just be throwing out."
Bit grated a sigh of his own and glanced at Zero, who still lay silently watching the them. He looked back. "You make it sound like Backdraft takes in lost puppies while the ZBC has it out for people. That's ridiculous."
Polta chuckled. And just kept chuckling.
It got on Bit's nerves. "You don't think you might be a little biased, dude? Coming from… however long you were in Backdraft?"
As the sun broke the horizon and began to lighten the sky, Polta drew a pair of dark sunglasses out of a small case and slipped them on. He shook his head, smiling unpleasantly.
"Nah. I'm actually from what most in the org call the penumbra. One parent in Backdraft, and one… not. If there's ever something that would... broaden one's horizons, it's that." He stared at Bit over the top of his sunglasses. "I'll take an informed choice over no choice any day."
Bit squinted. He frowned, then guessed: "Your family had money."
An idle nod and smile.
Bit's frown hardened. "Then you don't have any room to talk."
The smile on Polta's face died. But it was quick to bounce back, vicious.
"Says the poster child for youthful optimism?! Come on, kid." The smile turned sneer lite. "How many people are gonna see your face on TV and think, 'I can do that too', hmm? Ever since the Blitz Team shot up in the rankings, your cute little sob story's been everywhere."
Bit just stared.
"Gonna assume it's a bit edited, though." Polta clasped and rubbed his hands together. "So, allow me to take a guess. Falloff kid. Grew up in one of the outer villages. Apprenticed with… some stripe of mechanic, probably a modder. Then got into the Jackal trade?"
"Junk dealer." Came Bit's stern correction.
Polta raised a brow. "Stealth truck, right? Snuck onto active battlefields?"
Bit looked off into the distance, not saying anything.
Polta put his hands into his pockets and rocked a little, waiting.
"I was taught by a Jackal. I wasn't one." Bit said after about a minute of silence. "And he'd never been part of Backdraft or any of that other crap."
"That he told you about. People tend to not mention things that might get them in trouble."
Bit threw a challenging look.
"Speaking of… with as strong as your opinions are about Backdraft, have you any intention to share your little- er, pardon, big -advantage?" Polta motioned with his head at Zero. "I think some may consider having mythical creatures on your side cheating."
~An odd assertion from a man too weak to fight with honesty.~ Zero said, out of nowhere.
Polta startled and staggered back a few steps; he'd not heard the Organoid speak prior. Though dark glasses now hid his eyes, Bit watched the lanky man's brows sort through a lot. Polta didn't have a response, quick or otherwise, and just looked away.
Before anything else could be said, both's attention shifted to the approaching click of heels on the hangar's shiny concrete floor. Sara.
Polta turned as she arrived, glad for the distraction. He bowed slightly. "Ma'am."
Sara nodded and politely gestured dismissal, her attention on Bit. The blonde turned a severe gaze to the woman, still frowning.
"What."
"Good morning to you too."
Bit's eyes half-lidded. "Good morning, Sara. How can I help you today."
"Dear."
Bit tried to hold his dulled expression, but finally cracked a grin. "Really, what's up?"
"Is it all right if I speak with you for a moment?"
Sara hadn't appreciated how massive Zero was until the white Organoid followed Bit into a room with a lower ceiling. She admired the huge beast for a moment, until it met her gaze directly.
It was something like staring into the roiling glow of molten earth: deceptively cooled on its outer edges, but most assuredly burning within. Almost painfully bright to look at, Zero's optics brimmed with the stark opposite of the void One's optics held.
It'd been a second, if that. She looked away, and to Bit.
It made her shudder slightly to see how intently Zero stared out of the blonde's eyes too. It shouldn't have surprised her: the same thing sometimes happened with Vega and his Organoid.
"I haven't even had breakfast, Sara." Bit wasn't in the mood to deal with much, and certainly not on an empty stomach.. "Can this not wait?"
"Don't worry, I just have a question." The woman folded her arms and cocked her head. "Was your Liger Zero ever subject to a full-body M-Scan?"
Green eyes flicked with thought. After a moment, Bit nodded. "A little while ago. Doc took all the Zoids in just before the Royal Cup."
His mind continued for him: back when your biggest problems involved being defeated by Vega in a video game. A sigh.
"I see. Was there anything unusual?"
Bit shrugged. "Black box they couldn't scan. Me and Doc tried to get into it. Couldn't. Jaime didn't want us to break anything, so..."
Sara nodded, and produced a small datapad. She handed it to Bit.
"The Berserk Fury had one too."
Bit took the datapad and looked at the image on it. A black reptilian-looking skull - that looked unmistakably like One. Grasping a Core in its mouth. Bit knew the size of the black box, and raced through the mental math to arrive at a squint.
Sara looked at him expectantly.
"So that's where they came from." The muscles in the blonde's jaw visibly tensed. "And that… wouldn't be there anymore."
A slow nod. "And you know who gets all the commercial M-Scan data, correct?"
The ZBC. It was a simple addition to their arsenal of methods used to keep an eye out for illegal mods or other tampering. The black box hadn't set off anyone's alarm bells; even the mechanic at the full-service center had guessed it was just a recorder for battle simulators.
Bit closed his eyes and mouth, inhaling through his nose at length. He took a moment to process the variety of potential issues this brought up, none of which he had considered. He doubted Steve had either.
"Great." The blonde opened his eyes and looked up at Zero. "No more M-Scans for us, I guess."
Sara gave him a warning look. "If, by chance, the ZBC or ZBGF had happened to get ahold of some of Backdraft's data… our scanners are better. Because," She gave a small nod towards the datapad, "we were able to see into the black box."
"And by 'if' you mean 'this happened.'"
"We were raided, Bit."
Bit stared down at the datapad's screen, suddenly a lot less interested in breakfast.
A thick coat, a mug of coffee, a sparse yet warmer-than-outside Whale King. Ehga sat before a small console, watching some show silent and subtitled on a screen.
Ehga had become somewhat concerned when everyone stopped checking in, but chalked it up to communication difficulties brought on by the progress on the array's removal.
The blustery evening winds caused an occasional sharp creak, one that rose above the static din of the vast, largely-empty transport.
Little mind was paid to concepts of security or even caution. Perhaps laziness, but also just sense: no one really inhabited this area. Like many areas on Zi, the Mackarays were fiercely inhospitable. The dense metallic forest was difficult for Zoids and humans alike to navigate, discouraging the ZBC from regular patrols. Many kilometers away, the resort town at Mt. Iselina drew mainly skiers in the winter. But they'd be long-frozen before they made it this far out.
In short, a perfect storm of inattention made it all too easy for Brad and Naomi to enter the Whale King undetected, once they'd located it.
Brad disappeared into the shadows, and Naomi crept among sparse crates and walkways to a perfect, obscuring vantage far across the hollow transport's main bay.
She lined up and glared through her rifle's scope.
Ehga hadn't noticed anything.
Silence and stillness were her forte. Naomi stared at the back of the man's head for several long minutes, watching his shoulders shake with the occasional chuckle. Her finger slid from the side of the rifle and down to the trigger.
The man turned his head slightly, as if pricked by her gaze.
It was only brief, only a pause. Then he went back to watching the screen.
Naomi's throat worked, and she slipped her finger around the trigger. She tried to relax, tried to focus.
Seconds passed.
A minute.
She hung frozen, limbs heavy, feeling bolted in place.
She couldn't do this.
She couldn't shoot someone from behind, while they were doing nothing. She couldn't kill in cold blood.
Naomi lowered the rifle and glared to one side, inhaling sharply.
Brad was quick to pick up her slack.
She found it somehow relieving that he likewise didn't take the cold-blooded approach. He shot out the console being watched instead, causing Ehga to startle and right into a defensive pose.
Brad then stepped out of the shadows and confronted the man.
Naomi was too far to hear their first words to each other. She hastened closer.
"I wasn't there."
"I don't know that."
The two men stood facing one another in the belly of the dim transport. Dull track lighting threw their faces into hesitant highlight, and both's breath plumed visibly in the cool air. Brad had his revolver firmly pointed at Ehga, whose hands were raised and empty.
"Cool it, man. I'm not armed." Egha said.
"Figured." Brad didn't budge. "Works for me. Sucks for you."
Ehga glared. His eyes flicked with thought, attempting to put things together.
"The rest of your Team's dead." Brad supplied.
Dark eyes became harder, angrier. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not. Just want you to know that nobody's coming to help you."
The larger man's face became difficult to read. He considered his words carefully.
"I didn't take you for the type, Hunter."
"And I didn't take Backdraft for the type to abduct people and torture them for weeks." Brad shrugged. "Shit happens."
Ehga shook his head. "We don't keep up with what Backdraft's doing. We just follow Fuma's orders."
"Don't care. Not an excuse."
Silence.
"I suppose not." Ehga took a deep breath, considering his options. There weren't many good ones. "So... are you gonna fight me like a man? Or just shoot me like a dog?"
"It's weird how you guys want rules only when the situation's not in your favor." Brad dropped the revolver's aim and fired without warning, a shot in the gut. "Answer's dog. "
The other man cried out and doubled over, clutching his stomach. "Fuck! Hunter-"
Brad glanced over his shoulder. Ambient appeared from the plentiful dark and skulked into view, breath pluming broad and hot in the dim light. Ehga recoiled at the unexpected appearance of the beast.
"What the f…"
~Aye, lad,~ Ambient said to Brad. ~You done?~
"All yours."
"Wh- I- wait. Please. I swear." Ehga looked between both, expression a muted mix of pain and confused horror. "I wasn't with the Team when they were out after you. I've never even piloted the damn Saurers. Hunter, I swear - I'll turn myself in to the ZBGF."
Ambient advanced, and Brad tilted his head.
"Why was the Fuma Team working with Backdraft?"
"You know why! We're mercenaries, just like you."
"Just like me? Funny. I don't recall being hired. Or paid." Brad smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just fucked."
Ehga's expression dropped further, along with his gaze. As he watched blood start to freckle the floor, the reality of the situation - that the remaining Fuma Team pilot was very, very alone - began to sink in.
Atop it all, Brad did have a point. Everyone on the Fuma Team had been asked about piloting the Berserk Fury. And the Berserk Fury bothered Ehga just as much as the Geno Saurers did.
They were all impressive machines, certainly. But something was off about them. He'd declined to pilot either one. He wouldn't have wanted to be forced into it either.
"...just orders, man. Just following orders."
Brad shook his head. "Backdraft is known for screwing mercs over. What was different with you guys?"
The larger man still didn't look up. "We worked for Alteil."
"Mm." That wasn't interesting. Brad turned and started walking away.
Ehga took a defensive stance as Ambient crept closer, though he had difficulty holding steady. The two's eyes met.
~Y'really think yeh're going to fight me?~
"I'm certainly not just going to lay down and die."
~Sure. Yeh'll fall down and scream, first.~
Brad lit a cigarette and leaned on a nearby console.
Ehga did actually manage to avoid Ambient's initial strike. The second, too. The Organoid seemed confused, then amused by this, quirking a brow.
~Donnae embarrass yourself.~
The two tightly circled, and Ehga tried to break away - through an opening Ambient furtively provided.
Because Ambient didn't play fair. One lash of its powerful tail swept the man's feet out from under him, and Ehga's reflexive attempt at balance saw his entire forearm seized by the monster.
Ambient chuckled and wrenched the man down by the limb, audibly snapping bone.
All things considered, Ehga was surprisingly stoic, though his face was wrinkled with pain. He was having a difficult time processing - and honestly a little angry - that he was being brutalized by an Organoid. Which was about as ridiculous as being trampled by an Orudios.
In the corner of his mind where he survived this, it occurred to him that this would be one hell of a tale to tell-
-the Team.
The Team really was dead.
If they'd all faced this, they were dead.
The man's resolve cracked.
~Need my scream, lad.~
Ambient hadn't let go of the man's arm, and started trying to swallow it. Still quite attached, Ehga staggered to standing as he was pulled upright. He slammed an enraged fist into the Organoid's snout.
"Fuck you! "
Ambient's optics glinted; it was amused.
In a single, smooth motion, Ambient let go of the man's arm, raised a leg, and shoved a splayed set of hindtalons onto his chest instead. This slammed Ehga down onto his back, and Ambient leaned forward heavily. It chuckled as it savored both the man's intense resistance - and the muffled sounds of his breaking ribs.
The Organoid paused, and squinted. It glanced towards Brad.
~Lad, he's tellin' the truth about nae bein' involved. He's never piloted the Genos.~ Ambient swung its head back down, chuffing mock admonishment. ~Y'dinnae like my girls? Why not!~
Not really what Brad wanted to hear. "He's the last member of their Team."
That meant nothing to the creature. ~Still want 'im dead?~
Brad shrugged. "Up to you."
Ambient laughed, utterly delighted.
"Hunter! Please. Let me go." Though the strength had drained from Ehga's voice, the determination hadn't. "You'll never see me again. I swear."
Brad took a long drag of his cigarette, stepped closer, and met the other man's eyes.
Ambient brought down a weighty chop of its jaws.
"You're right. I won't."