Sorry for the slight delay on this. In the process of moving and was just rather tired yesterday.

Some new characters appear this chapter! Let's meet them!


The air itself was radiant, cast in tones of warm gold and sunset orange. The stone floor of the large lobby was arranged in a circle, the smoothed tiles forming numerous sequential rings around the center of the plaza. At the heart of the space was a towering pillar inscribed with many hieroglyphs, the structure as wide around as two men standing shoulder to shoulder.

This cylindrical obelisk reached beyond the ceiling of the lobby, a circular port half the width of the room below opening up to the outside air. The amber glow of fading sunlight beamed bright against the upper reaches of the central column. Strangely, the stone structure seemed to capture that light, the energy coursing down its height, painting its surface in glittering gold.

Arrayed around the plaza was a variety of comfortable furniture, marking the space as a sort of lounge. A green couch sat near the glowing central pillar, housing a single occupant. The young woman seated appeared small, her shoulders slumped and posture poor. Her tawny hair was light in shade, adding to her overall frail demeanor. The only thing vibrant in her features were her eyes, ocean blues that gazed out from the rounded lenses of her eyewear.

"Alrighty then honey, just open yer mouth for me." At the request, the shy girl drew open her maw, displaying her tongue to the speaker. A flat stick was pressed against the oral organ as a bright light was flashed within.

The figure in front of the young woman was practically her opposite, his height imposing even with him knelt on the floor. Beady eyes heavily scrutinized the girl's tongue.

"So doc," came the gruff voice of the room's third occupant, "what's the damage?"

The "doc" flicked off his pen light, standing to his full height. He easily dwarfed the third figure, standing a full head taller than the man. The doctor stared down the length of his bulbous, hooked nose, fixing the broad shouldered man before him with a piercing gaze.

Arms crossed, the muscly Urayan returned the healer's stare with his own stoicism. He kept a good front for the first ten seconds, but the doc's unblinking intensity was starting to make him sweat.

Then the doctor smiled, a great deal of warmth overtaking his expression. With the friendly air of a family physician, the tall man returned, "Well Walls, Lindsey's lookin' fine and dandy now. Drivers do have a habit for recuperatin' real quick like."

"Walls" Waldemar reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He held his tongue, knowing that complaining about the doctor's use of nickname would only bolster the man's efforts.

The Urayan Driver was a brick wall of a man, his bulging blue arms on full display due to a lack of sleeves. Other than a black, skin tight undershirt, Waldemar was clad only in several dark plates of armor trimmed in matte hues of gold. His short hair was spiked wildly, a tint of teal much lighter than his skin. Patches of hard, marine colored scales framed the man's face like the mane of a lion.

He very much looked the part of an unscrupulous mercenary. Which made it all the odder to see him lower his arms flat against his sides and then pitch forward in an almost servile bow.

"Thank you, Stints," Waldemar intoned, keeping his speech simple and proper.

"None of that now," Stints rebuffed, clapping his hands a few times to draw the shorter man's attention.

The doctor was a simple man all around, garbed in an off-white, buttoned up longsleeve and a set of tanned trousers. Both were marred all over with old stains that never quite washed out, mostly dirt and grime though the odd blood stain could be picked out in places.

The most unique part of Stints' outfit, aside from the fact that it fit his towering frame, was the brown leather vest he wore. This throw on bit of wear was utterly perforated with various pockets, slips, straps, belts, and pouches. And each of these were burdened, if not overstuffed, with various tools and instruments. Not all of it was even medical related, a screwdriver peeking out here, a wrench tucked away there…

Stints stepped back from the slowly rising Waldemar. He reached a hand towards the armor clad man, "No need ta be all formal 'bout it. Alls I need fer gratitude is a firm handshake."

The younger Urayan glanced back and forth between the doctor's hand and his face. Lindsey, still perched in her seat, watched the exchange with bated breath. She was very quickly starting to turn blue.

When Waldemar tossed a swift peek to the side, Stints quickly caught onto the dilemma. Around the perimeter of the room, a small section of grey cloaks were standing guard. Though they had quite a history with the group, Waldemar and Lindsey were still outsiders while Stints was a valued member of The Benevolence.

"S'alright," the healer assured, "they're hardly as hair trigger as they let on. And Arthur's not nearly as much of a strictler… not about this."

Taking a few seconds more… the Urayan's features brightened slightly as he raised his palm to meet Stints'. The doctor grinned as "Walls'" hand clasped his own, the pair giving a single, deep shake.

Lindsey sat pitched forward, fingers pressing against her chest as she loosed the last vestiges of air from her lungs. She took no note of the two men parting, nor Waldemar's swift advancing on her position. A thick digit snapped across her scalp, knocking against a flower clip resting over her left ear, drawing a sharp squeak from the young woman.

The Urayan glanced down, looking unimpressed. "Ya heard Stints, you're all good to go. Doctor's got you cleared for field work."

The girl's eyes flashed with a touch of anxiety, Lindsey swiftly diverting her sight from her partner. Waldemar sighed at the display. Then he dropped down into a crouch, leaning to try and catch the bespectacled woman's downcast gaze. Beside them, Stints' eyes crinkled at the out of character display from the stout brute.

"Look at me Lindsey," Waldemar spoke in a soft tone. The girl in glasses took a moment, haltingly turning her head before flinching her gaze back towards the floor, but eventually she faced in the broad man's direction. Her eyes still didn't meet his, something Waldemar viewed as unacceptable.

His strong palm cupped Lindsey's chin, drawing a breath from the young woman. Her azure eyes were opened wide, gleaming behind their glass confines as she stared near transfixed on the Urayan brute.

Waldemar smirked. "There, not so hard, eh?" The man had regained a touch of his usual bravado.

"Wal…" Lindsey murmured.

"None of that. You're strong now, remember? Not the person you used to be."

Lindsey's mouth hung open at that, a brief shimmer glossing over her eyes. Her mercenary comrade fixed her with a stern expression, as though trying to project his strength onto her. As Waldemar rose to full height, the young woman mirrored his action. Though Lindsey was more than a head shorter than the man, she stood with equal posture, back straight and eyes forward.

The ghost of a smile graced Waldemar's features. Lindsey's own grin was far more present if rather muted.

An applause drew three sets of eyes. The Urayan brute jutted out his chin at the approach of the Benevolent leader. Lindsey recoiled a little but quickly regained her stance. Only Stints made to move, marching casually to meet Arthur.

The blonde wore a pleased smile as he approached, still clapping all the way. Ingrid and Gerard followed close behind the man. Stints caught the silver curled woman's eye, they both glanced back to Arthur, and then rolled their eyes in unison.

"What's with that look Stintsy?" Arthur favored the doctor with a bright tone, arms opened wide in a questioning gesture.

"I'ma pretend you didn't call me that," the towering man deadpanned, reaching up to slap his superior's arms down to his sides. The various guards overlooking the area gave little response, one or two loosing a few soft chuckles.

Stints stepped into the shorter man, wrapping him up in a hug, clapping Arthur's back twice. Before his leader could return the affection, Stints stepped back and began rapidly squeezing and prodding the man's frame.

"How you been holdin' up? 'Bout time I saw you fer a once over," Stints inquired, leaning and shifting as he checked Arthur's sides and waist.

Ingrid found a wooden chair that she swiftly spun around before plopping into it reverse style. Gerard stepped towards the golden pillar, standing with arms crossed low with the ready poise of a bodyguard. He could see all the important players in the conversation from where he was standing.

He was also on the flank and in striking distance of Waldemar and Lindsey.

"S'all been fine, Stints," Arthur said as the healer drew his little pen light from one of his pouches. The doctor then spread open each of his eyes, shining the torch into them as he scanned the contracted orbs. "Really, no complications."

The air of annoyance in Arthur's tone only made Stints move slower. The Benevolent leader's eye began to water as the vertically inclined doc kept the beam steadily on it, dragging out his observation.

Waldemar worked up the nerve to step forward, "Arthur, we need a word." Unlike with Stints, the assembled troopers audibly tightened the grasp on their weapons, shifting stance in near unison.

"Yes," Arthur turned, his mood suddenly sunny, "I was informed of this. Let me start wi – ah!"

The blonde squirmed as Stints reached under his shirt, cold palms probing about his chest. Arthur sent him a rather pointed glare which the healer instantly dismissed. Ingrid glanced away, hiding a blush.

Coughing, the Fleet Master continued, "As I was saying – let me start with how impressed I am by your performance, Waldemar."

The Urayan warrior balked slightly at this, completely caught off guard. Arthur's face and tone were full of sincerity, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled ever so slightly in amusement.

"Did you expect a different opinion," the blonde ventured, moving to clap both hands upon the younger man's shoulders, "You bring much to our outfit! You are exemplary in the field, you keep a tight, efficient crew, and your attitude, though rough in areas, maintains consistent professionalism."

Arthur paused his speech to step back, able to view and glance between Waldemar and Lindsey. "We were truly blessed in crossing paths with all of you." The glasses wearing girl could only blush as her Urayan counterpart felt a not-entirely-unwanted air of pride begin to swell in his chest.

Waldemar smothered the feeling, remembering that they had concerns to voice. "Appreciate the vote of confidence, really. But that's all the more reason I think it's high time you let us into the fold."

The Fleet Master quirked his brow in a whimsical manner. "Oh? Into the fold?"

The Urayan mercenary leaned a little towards Arthur. Just about every safety on every rifle in the room clicked, Gerard's shining gaze narrowing into a warning glare. Only Ingrid and Stints maintained their nonchalance, the doctor shouldering past Waldemar as he checked Arthur's pulse with a pocket watch.

"You've got one hell of an operation here," Waldemar declared, spreading his arms wide in gesture to the large courtyard and the squadron of grey cloaks placed throughout. "Even back when we did that first run together, you lot were leagues above our little group."

"Don't diminish your own merits," Arthur interrupted, "You and your Hunters had quite the reputation. It's why we approached you in the first place."

Again the honest praise nearly tripped up Waldemar. Lindsey was losing the struggle against the rather goofy smile spreading across her lips. The Urayan warrior continued, "Yeah, yeah, that' nice and all… but I don't need buttering up. Point is we fell in with you because we could see something big on the horizon. Been watching you build up to it for three years, even if you stalled out a bit with this personal vendetta of yours."

There was a lull as a palpable chill overtook the room. Stints froze in place as a low growl issued from Ingrid, her gauntlet and rings shimmering hotly. Arthur's own expression changed little, but there was a promise of imminent danger swirling in his eyes. Waldemar swallowed as Lindsey pulled her arms tight against her chest.

"What I mean to say is," the muscled man's gaze lowered, eyes shifting as though searching for the words, "… I just want to see what's coming, what kind of future we have here." Towards the end, the Urayan's sight turned towards his cowering partner.

Arthur held his intensity a moment longer, the assembled troopers visibly tensed. Then his expression softened as he glanced between the broadly built man and his curled up associate. "You two really are close, aren't you."

The comment had Lindsey ducking her face into her palms. It didn't hide the cherry red hue that flooded her features. Waldemar turned back towards Arthur, halting his snap movements partway and slowing to a more moderate pace. The Fleet Master showed some teeth at the light blush painting the mercenaries own cheeks. Complete victory for the fanatic leader.

Before Waldemar's "Don't know what you're talking about" could come about, Arthur explained, "You're so concerned about your future, both of your futures. I know you had your own ambitions and that you set them aside for the stability that we offered, seeing the horizon we were sailing towards held light on the far side. I cannot express enough how humbled I still am by that."

Ingrid tactfully scoffed whilst rolling her eyes. Stints backed away, drawing a notebook from a pocket and starting to jot things down.

Lindsey was showing her face again, although still staring towards the ground. Her fingers found their grip on Waldemar's waist armor, the bespectacled girl pulling herself closer to him. The brutish Urayan swiftly reached around to alter her position, Lindsey ending at his side rather than behind him. She faced Arthur alongside her partner, summoning some strength into her composure. The minute tremors across her frame caused her to grimace, Waldemar loosing a humored grunt.

Arthur's grin was equal parts warm and eager. The Fleet Master turned on a dime, sweeping his arm in a beckoning manner.

"You are concerned about what follows my 'personal vendetta'," the blonde spat the last bit with a notable lack of emotion, though he recovered smoothly, "shall I show you the next phase?"

At this point, for the first time throughout the exchange, Stints appeared genuinely discouraged.


Pyra watched as the robust nopon rummaged through stacks of gizmos arranged around his workspace. She'd heard somewhat the concept of "organized chaos" from self-proclaimed savants in her distant journeys of the past. Perhaps this was a practical display of such. If so, she really didn't see the appeal.

In actuality, it looked like Tora was just moving the mess from one spot to another. Would it really not be easier to keep things clean and orderly from the start?

And just in time to prevent the red head from speaking, Tora drew back with the object of his search. Pyra was perplexed by the boxy, steel contraption resembling a lantern. The acclaimed inventor held the lamp high in one of his wing arms, feathery digits wrapped around its top ring.

"Brighty, brighty," Tora cheered, hopping up with a youthful spin. The lantern's dark confines abruptly flared with a saffron glow, motes of light drifting free of the illuminated core. While rather lovely, the device's display paled in comparison to the cavern itself.

The moss and plantlife that had previously brightened at the Blades' presence gained newfound radiance. The cave lit up across every surface, the rocky walls glimmering like vibrant gold. Any trace of the underground's gloom was banished in an instant.

Tora lowered the shining lantern onto the countertop, looking quite pleased with himself. "There we go! Now Tora can get to work on final preparations." And so saying, the mohawked nopon quickly got to it, wings and arms snatching various bits and bobs from the junk stacks surrounding him.

A slumbering groan broke free of Dromarch, the tiger Blade nestled down against a rock outcropping across the way. Nia was lain against his striped side, arms behind her head as she attempted to rest in kind. But Pyra could see the pained twitches on her face and errant flicks of her ears. She was restless, even in her sleep. All things considered, the Aegis really couldn't blame her.

Mana was the most mobile of their little group, moving about Tora's workspace carrying a single strap sack. The dark skinned Blade seemed to be retrieving things from piles out of Tora's reach. Occasionally the nopon would snap a finger at something Mana touched, the horned man deftly tossing whatever towards the inventor. Tora always caught it, the two barely glancing at one another and never verbally communicating.

They were clearly very well versed in such labors, Pyra observed.

"Alright," Mana breathed, "got all the completed stuff in the rucksack down by the dockyard, the mostly-completed stuff in a box hidden in storage, and our favorite distractionary implements right here," he shook the sack, issuing a few metallic clinks and clangs, "ready to go. Just gotta get down and hit up the pantry – gonna need to haul a lot more grub with this many people – and we should be good to go. I'll drop these off with our two soon-to-be-ex prisoners and everything will be in place."

"Three prisoners, technically," was the offhand reply of a preoccupied inventor. Mana froze so suddenly it made Pyra jolt. The strange Blade threw a certain look over his shoulder at the busy nopon, Tora utterly unconcerned.

"Three," Mana questioned, keeping his voice low and even.

For all his apparent focus as he snapped and twisted bits into a larger gadget of some sort, Tora was quick to reply, "Yes, yes. Gave Shelly-am the core crystal Manana found four days ago. Figured would serve as good backup in case things went topsy-turvy."

Mana nodded at his friend's logic. "Fairly in line with the plan, though a little premature."

"Is fine! Blade wakey-wakey as soon as touch Shelly-am's hands."

Even Tora flinched when Mana's fist crashed into an adjacent stalagmite, the flesh along his lower arm gaining a glittering shimmer as it burrowed into the luminous stone. Nia sat up like she was spring loaded as Dromarch gave a throaty yawp in protest.

"You just… woke her up!?" Mana's words came out in a seething hiss, though there was more anxiety than anger.

"… yes? Is problem with Blade Manana bring from disposal chamber?"

Pyra, keeping her silence, gave an inquisitive glance towards Mana. The horned Blade pitched his brow into the cracked rock in front of him, his boney protrusions halting skin-to-stone contact.

"I can't confirm much aside from the implications of finding a core crystal in the garbage. But the only reason I went looking in the first place was overhearing the guards talking about some psycho Blade that wasn't even good for processing. It was meant to be a 'last resort' sort of thing, for use only in the case of total situational collapse."

Tora paled through his pelt. Pyra had no idea what "processing" entailed, but she felt an obvious need to break the tense mood.

"Well… I'm sure it will be fine! How bad could it be?"

Every able eye in the room just stared at the red head, astonished that she had delivered the Forbidden Question so casually.


The newly formed being stood to her full height, stretching it further as she reached one arm and then the other high overhead. The first detail Rex and Amshel noted was the metallic sheen. Even in the dull light of the prison cell, the woman's skin shined like polished steel. Even odder were the black segments formed at her joints, literal ball junctions like one would find on a doll.

Rex croaked a little bit and Amshel let out a low whistle as the pair beheld the caged cavity where her stomach should be. A tumbling blue organ floated turbulently in the empty air of her gut cage, oddly resembling a human heart more than, say, a stomach.

"Come now sweeties, just because a woman bears her heart doesn't mean you should just stare."

Rex continued to stare, though his gaze looked largely unfocused now. Amshel was prompted to trail his sight upward, past the notable outlines of a large bust in the figure's otherwise featureless "flesh." Past the black choker that encompassed her long neck, a gleaming, flower shaped core crystal resting at the base of her throat.

Like the rest of her, the Blade's face seemed artificial, pale features smooth and proportioned like a porcelain doll's. A bit of light lavender painted her lips and her right eye held long lashes and a tasteful layer of shadow.

Her left eye looked to be surrounded by a dark mask, though the material seemed bonded to her skin. Like its counterpart, the left orb was violet in hue. But it held no pupil, the purple organ like a round jewel that burned hotly as it stared back at Amshel. The white of her eye was instead a pane of black, further contrasting the glowing orb floating within. This was the point where Amshel was caught staring.

The newly formed Blade smiled… "pleasantly," tilting her head to the side in a cutesy manner. One of two loops of dark hair fell across her face, the dangling lengths reaching from either edge of her forehead to under and behind her ears. A tight bun of her dark lockes was poised high on the back of her scalp.

"Call me Azami, my little Driver-hun. I know this'll be the start of something beautiful."

Amshel shut his eyes before breathing deeply. He could already feel a permanent headache setting in. He was sure strangling Tora would alleviate him some, he could already picture it in his mind.

"Hi," the haggard man defaulted, offering his hand, "I'm Amshel. Guess we're each other's problem now."

Azami reached out. Her hands were entirely blackened with talon-like nails capping each digit, but the girl was particularly careful grasping her Driver's palm. Her gaze remained very focused on their point of contact, the floating heart starting to visibly beat with considerable haste.

Their arms just kind of hung there for a while. Amshel eventually moved their clasped hands up and down to complete the shake maneuver. Azami's eyes followed the motion with absurd precision.

"How romantic," she said in the ghost of a whisper. The rough looking brunette carefully drew his hand away from Azami's, displaying the kind of caution one would use when diffusing a bomb. The violet eyed Blade reached out as her Driver's hand retreated.

"… Aaaaaannd this is Rex," Amshel awkwardly changed topics, gesturing to the still staggered younger man standing next to him. His green gaze didn't dare wander from the silver skinned Blade.

To her credit, Azami did register the salvager's presence. She gave him a soft smile before crossing one leg behind the other, dipping into a brief curtsy. This directed Rex and Amshel towards Azami's particular choice of "garb."

Beneath her "heart cage" was a dark segment containing her hips and thighs. At a glance, it almost looked like underwear, the black surface seemingly made of fine cotton. The teal flowers and swirling vine designs throughout only exacerbated things.

"Blooming" from a ring around her waist was the wire frame of a ballroom gown. There was not a shred of fabric on it, giving the piece an overall skeletal look. Her feet completed the "horror/high class" motif, imitating the shape and function of high heels but clearly being a part of her body, those doll like joints still very uncanny.

"Blade anatomy is bullshit." Rex let the words pass unfiltered, his brain still numb. Amshel threw in a helpful "Amen" to show solidarity, his eyes widening an instant later as he realized their folly.

Azami giggled. It was equal parts cute and creepy, a short summary of her as a whole. "Oh~, I think we're going to become good friends."

Rex just looked dumbfounded, eyes glazed and lips parted in a small "o". Amshel let the moment pass, cleared the air with a sharp inhale, and turned to the boy in blue, "Okay, Rex? Our first course of action is going to be getting out of here."

His fellow prisoner's words snapped Rex out of his stupor, the boy shaking his head like a wet dog. "Uh… yeah, getting out would be a good place to start. How are we doing that?"

Rather than being annoyed, Azami actually seemed a little excited in being dismissed from the conversation. The smile she wore was creeping quickly towards arousal.

"Tora and my Blade Mana have been setting up for our departure for a few weeks now," Amshel elaborated. At the mention of the man having another Blade, Azami's face twitched briefly.

Rex nodded along, "Alright, alright. Sooo what's the plan for us getting out of this cell?"

The newly birthed Blade began glancing about the cell, eyes lingering on the wall of iron bars as well as the grilled section of the ceiling duct.

"Once the setup is done, one of them will crawl their way here through the vents and drop us something to pick the lock. Security's pretty lax down here, long as we don't cause a commotion."

The blue clad boy grumbled as he bit his lip, glancing away from the older man. Amshel quirked a brow as Rex relayed, "They have my friend, Kassandra. I heard her screaming as they were dragging me through the building."

Amshel's features sharpened, "Is she a Blade?" The boy only nodded, the original inmate humming in thought. Azami had advanced towards the cell door, her mismatched eyes staring daggers at the metal plate housing the actual lock.

"They… do things to Blades they capture. Tora's alluded to it a few times, but they don't share much with him."

"What!?" Rex shot a vibrant glance towards Amshel, "Tora works with those psychopaths?"

The older man held up a hand, "Not willingly. Kid's as much a prisoner as we are, he's just the kind of person they can make actual use of."

A question hung on the edge of Rex's tongue, but the boy held back. He redirected, "Alright, but we still need to find Kassandra. I won't leave her."

Amshel spun his outstretched palm into an "OK" gesture. "Should be doable. Long as we stay low key, we can scout the facility for quite some time before they notice our absence."

At this point, a flare of violet and an odd, droning swoosh drew the duo's attention. Standing near the cell entrance, Azami faced the door, her left eye radiating a swirling purple aura. Her right arm was extended, a dark, blocky chunk of metal held in her hand. Judging by the handle she was gripping it by, it appeared to be a handgun of some sort.

And the barrel, extending from the open maw of a miniature skull mounted on the weapon's front, was poised on that plate lock.

Uselessly, Amshel raised a halting hand. He'd gotten it fully forward just as Azami squeezed the trigger. The indigo bolt that shot out snapped into the iron block, punching through it with a sharp crack of breaking metal that echoed through the jail. The barred door was flung open to crash loudly into the cell's bars, adding to the cacophony.

The two males were frozen in place, Amshel with his arm still uselessly extended and Rex with eyes wide and jaw hanging. Azami unleashed a round of soft giggles, rapidly filling the quieting air. When she turned towards the boys – primarily towards Amshel – a positively dazzling smile had split her features.

Amshel's reaching hand swung back around and smacked into his own forehead. With a nearly pained groan, he dragged his palm languidly down toward his mouth.

The man reanimated in an instant, throwing both arms up and then letting them plop solidly against his sides. "Okay, I guess we'll play this by ear then!" So declared, Amshel marched towards his grinning Blade and the cell's opening.

In a wise gesture, the soon-to-be-ex prisoner procured the skull decored handgun from Azami. She happily complied, they were Driver and Blade after all. It somewhat took the wind out of his sails when Azami simply coalesced an identical pistol into her grasp.

Numbly, Rex asked, "How many of those do you have?"

The doll like pistoleer gave a mysterious grin, "A lady has to keep some secrets. At least to those who aren't her lover."

Amshel pointedly ignored that last bit, snapping his fingers a few times before hustling down the lane of cells. Azami fell in step without hesitation, quickly on her Driver's heels. Rex took a moment to collect himself as he realized that, yes, this was in fact happening and he needed to get involved. The boy in blue raced after the pair.

The door leading out of he prison sat at the base of a narrow staircase. The barrier itself was a far sturdier looking thing than the one from their cell. It was basically just a plate of coarse steel with a long slot near the top. Amshel crossed to the wall on the far side of the door. Azami stepped up to the threshold, aiming her skull mouthed muzzle at the door's latch.

Her Driver snatched up her arm and yanked the gun happy girl around behind him, pressing a finger to his lips. Seeing the gesture, Rex paused on the opposite side of the threshold and crouched down, listening.

Some hard, but not quite hurried, footfalls were coming down the stairs. Realizing he was on the "open" side of the door, Rex pressed himself as tightly and lowly against the wall as possible.

The portal swung open, Amshel raising an arm to block the iron slab. A female figure in the grey cloak and padded armor of a Benevolence trooper strode into the space. Hot on her heels was a broader framed individual with a sparking mace held low in his left hand.

"The fuck is all this racket about Amsh-"

She stopped upon spotting the burst open cell door at the far end of the corridor. Her partner stepped out beside her, also stilling at the sight. They hadn't quite noticed Rex yet.

A shot screamed through the confined space, the female trooper staggering forwards as an ether bolt plowed into her upper back. The second grey cloaked turned towards the source and received a pistol whip to the dome for his trouble.

In her stumble, the first soldier locked eyes with Rex. The boy shot forward in the next second, his palm slamming into her jaw. The force lifted the zealot up, her and Rex arcing through the air before the salvager drove her skull and upper back into the stone floor.

Nearby, Amshel dodged a blind sweep from the mace wielder's weapon. The second strike, more precise and with a flare of anger behind it, licked at the front of Amshel's waist. The escapee responded with a snap kick to the trooper's wrist, his sparking mace sent spinning across the ground.

Then he shot the grey cloak in the knee. While this armor kept his leg from being blown apart by the condensed bolt, it did knock the limb out from beneath him. A pained bark tore free of the fanatic's covered mouth as he glanced up towards his opponent.

Amshel's knee crashed into the man's face. Blood spurted as the trooper's re-breather was driven into flesh, cutting up his nose and cracking into bone. The cloaked soldier was flung backwards, slapping against cold stone and not moving afterwards.

Rex maintained a grip on his foe's face. He dragged her head back up before thrusting it back into the floor. But with her hood up and her cloak's sigils gleaming, it did little damage. A gold coated fist erupted towards Rex's head, the boy barely having time to duck sideways and push the blow aside with his free arm. This left the two in an odd sort of arm lock.

Azami's approach was denoted by a sharp series of clacking steps. Rex glanced up just in time to see one of her strangely formed feet swing down like a pendulum. The kick caught the cloaked woman right across the brow, her head jerking to the side. She'd actually caught a bit of Rex's hand before he could pull away, the boy's skin already red from the friction.

"Ow, ow, ow," Rex yelped as he rolled back, attempting to shake the pain away.

His silver savior fixed him with a "cute" little grin, "Sorry sweetie, thought you'd be a little faster than that." The boy really couldn't tell whether or not that was meant to be insulting.

Amshel strode up behind his gun-toting Blade and cuffed his open palm over the back of her scalp. It was a light hit, barely jostling the brunette's head. It did have the… "untoward" effect of sending a certain chill visibly across Azami's body. Amshel would remember this.

"Well," the light haired man began, "I guess that constitutes a successful escape. Might as well move on to phase two."

Rex stepped closer, the stinging in his hand mostly under control, "And what's next on the list?"

Amshel reached one hand towards the opposite arm, plucking at the long, ill-fitting sleeve of his top. "First things first, I need better clothes if we're gonna bust out of prison."

This was the first time Rex really took stock of his fellow man's attire. The beige color of his "uniform" was dull, a lighter hue than his nest of a mane. All the better to show dirt and stains, he was sure, and the fit looked just loose enough to be awkward. Rex was pretty sure he spotted a loop of rope keeping the man's pants up.

Then a low grumble rolled out of Rex's stomach. Amshel looked ready to tease the hell out of him when his own belly belted out a thunderous response. Azami's single, amused huff capped off the ensuing silence.

"Second things first," Amshel corrected, "we're gonna raid the pantry."

The speed with which Azami went from humored to thrilled was downright scary. She'd dismissed her own pistol to cup her hands over both cheeks, porcelain features flush with heat.

"A dinner date with darling!? I'll have to dress my best!"

At this, Azami's arms swung high above her head, fingers meeting and legs smoothly crossing in a ballet pose. The silver Blade twirled in a fluid, casual motion. At the same time, her arms lowered to her sides in grand, sweeping arcs.

All throughout, an obsidian glare bloomed from low on her back. The collection of dark ether rapidly weaved itself into a large ribbon tied into an ornate bow. The dark material looked smooth as silk, some cyan colored symbols near the cloth's hanging ends the only interruptions in the ebon fabric.

A metallic, circlet band flashed into being perched around her scalp. From a point in the lustrous ring resting above her forehead, a teardrop shaped sapphire dangled freely over her hairline. The jewel gleamed with an unnatural vibrance.

Amshel stared on, utterly gobsmacked. Azami seemed quite pleased by her ability to "bewitch" her Driver, sinking down in a light curtsy.

Then the man in brown said, "Why don't you craft something to cover up your dress frame?"

"Style," was the immediate answer. The boys both groaned, Amshel banging his brow into the bars of a nearby cell.


Patricia's days were certainly improving. Not that there was a high bar to clear. Maybe there was a time when being assigned to Si – Saturn, she reminded herself – would be seen as an outright honor, but that was… before.

Before he really lost it.

The only thing worse than dealing with him on a normal assignment was dealing with him on "The Project." She only tolerated his mania on such endeavors because, honestly, she wanted a piece of the heathens as well. All of them did.

None of their order missed how losing his son had torn the soul out of the Fleet Master. None of them could let that rest.

But after that insane debacle at Goldmoth – particularly the parts where she was nearly crushed by a hammer or harassed by nopon nosehair – she really appreciated having a break.

This was how the blonde found herself managing the food prep. Garbed in a basic, off-duty uniform, accompanied by three other "cooks" and two "rigged-up" soldiers, the atmosphere was almost pedestrian.

Patricia was reaching for a meaty carrot, ready to cut it into chunks, when the door adjacent to her, near the back of the kitchen, quietly swung open. She almost dismissed the new arrival when she caught a particular shade of blue on her periphery.

As she sharply turned to the open portal, the open maw of a tiny skull and the black gun barrel jutting out of it were pressed against her forehead.

"Hey food jockey," Amshel drawled, "what's for dinner?"


Okay, from the top!

At last we meet Waldemar and Lindsey, Theory and Praxis' respective Drivers. We don't get much of a feel for their relationship in the main game, we don't actually get any information regarding Praxis' Driver at all. So I've taken to give them this sort of relationship, one that I mostly based off of the dynamic between Prosciutto and Pesci from Part Five of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. Of particular interest to me was how the pair's plot ended…

Lindsey is Waldemar's opposite. She is meek, guileless, and utterly lacking in confidence. In the way that I feel Theory serves as a servile guard to Waldemar, I feel Praxis would act as a loving protector to Lindsey in contrast. I want to get them into scenes together to explore their relationship more.

Stints is the "doctor" of the Benevolence. I like to think he kind of serves as a handyman in various areas, but his real importance is as a healer. He's sort of an outlier of the group in a different way from the Core Crystal Hunters. While he's more trusted as a friend by the group's leadership, it's clear he has some misgivings about certain things.

I want to drive home further that the thing really cementing the Benevolence together, aside from their zealous faith, is Arthur. He's very much the heart of the group in a way similar to how Jin is with Torna. The cult itself reels from the terrible loss of his son and they are more than willing to throw themselves into this vengeful crusade against Rex and crew. Arthur's rage is the Benevolence's rage.

The Cave Crew ™ are in preparation to move out, laying out their loose objectives and taking stock of their "party favors." Then Tora drops the bombshell and the promise of upcoming chaos is practically absolute. And just what could "processing" entail?

And of course Pyra poses the Forbidden Question. I'm having too much fun using her as a humor character. She's just not as "relevant" this arc as Rex's original crew so it gives me room to poke some fun at her.

And the big centerpiece of this chapter: Azami arrives!

Yes, the trash bound Blade is our favorite obsessive gunslinger. Azami's just too much of a character for me not to use. Pray for Amshel… and perhaps a bit for Mana.

So Azami's weapons, I'm sure some of you sharper readers have noticed, are not the same as canon (heh). Well, not the same right now. You'll note that she can manifest pistols, more than one in this case. I'm not gonna completely spoil the "surprise," be I will relent that the big gun, skull motif, and undying fervor towards a "master" really gave me some 40K vibes when I thought about her character. If you could translate Azami's passion for her Driver into love for the God-Emperor, she'd fit right in with the Sororitas.

And of course, Azami has no chill and the operation immediately goes "loud." Back to action, my friends!

Patricia, if you weren't aware, is Lead Lady from the Argentum Siege. Yep, she has a name now, just important enough to warrant one. I think I will keep her around for the foreseeable future.

Alright readers, that is all for now.

Next time: Food Fight. Product placement and fart jokes galore!