Weeks Ago...

"Don't you dare come back until you know first hand what that bastard is capable of."

Don't ever come back. The order echoes in his mind, scraping at his gut with guilt. Saros turns the corner of the city block, leaving Nova's sweets shop behind. The college student tries to recreate her image in his mind, placing focus on the caked on concealers. His goal? To answer two burning questions.

What did Nefarious do to you? Why didn't you tell me?

He can still see the ice in her glare, still feel the burn like salt in a wound. But that image dissolves into the wistful look outside the window during their dinner. "Maybe I should have pried that day," he mumbles. "If I'd known—"

"Knowing then would have made no difference." A regal accent, thick with boredom, stands out amongst the normal chatter of a city street. The stranger's comment breaks Saros' focus, and his posture immediately stiffens.

"How do you know that? Who are—"

"I'm not the important one here; neither are you, it would seem." The butler reaches into his storage, pulling out a small card. "Or at least, that would normally be the case. Luckily for you, Doctor Nefarious has taken a great interest in your predicament."

The name causes the markazian to jump back in shock. "What?! Nefarious?! But that's the guy that-"

"He can offer you the answers you're seeking."

Saros backs off defensively, staring at the robot with eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why should I trust anything you have to say? Your boss orphaned Nova."

Unfazed, the robotic servant puts the card away. "Aren't you curious about where she ran off to in such a hurry?"

"I…" The question digs into the organic's mind, deeper than he ever expected it to. "Yes."

Without another word, Lawrence gestures toward a nearby electronics store. In the windows lie a dozen holovision screens of different sizes, and they're all tuned to the latest news. Pressing his fingers against the glass, Saros watches in horror as Nova's ship barely dodges laser blasts. The enemy ship is brought down with a well-placed shot.

Saros tears himself from the window and scrambles for his phone. Behind him, a store employee shoots him a glare as they wipe his handprints from the glass. The young man frantically dials her holo-com number. Thankfully, she answers, and seems calm despite the day's events. "Nova! I'm so glad you picked up. There was a dogfight right outside Igliak's atmosphere! Are you okay?!"

"Yeah, we're fine," she confirms. "It was Nefarious. He sent some random goon after us, but we managed."

Saros sighs in relief. Apologies are shared. Nova once again makes her plans clear. "Clank and I are gonna make sure that Nefarious can't hurt anyone else again. I'll be back before you know it."

'I'll be back before you know it,' feels like a holo film character's last words before the worst comes to pass. The young man gives his all to convince her not to ship herself into an upcoming war. "Nova, you don't have to do this, you know. Someone else could step up, another hero."

"I have to," she reaffirms. "He came for me in the first place. He wants a fight? I'm gonna give it to him, and he'll regret messing with my family."

Worry eats away at his gut, but one look in her eyes tells him that there's not much he can do to change her mind. It's an admirable quality, but the concern remains. Seeing the firm stance, the determined look, it seems as if she's a completely different person than the one he met in the hologame store. The idea of her mind snapping like that worries him to no end. He sighs. "Good luck, Nova. I hope you know what you're doing."

He hangs up without saying goodbye.

Metallic footsteps and a tired chuckle break the tension. "I wonder if she'll open up to you? Now that would be a sight to see."

"She's my friend," Saros defends. "Nova's just got a lot on her plate right now."

"If you still think they'll tell you anything, you're welcome to try." The butler stops before turning into a nearby alleyway. "When you're ready to learn the truth, come find us. We'll be waiting."

"H-hey, wait!" Saros runs after Lawrence, but reaching the alley, the markazian finds nothing at all, except for the robot's card in the ground. The way it reflects the light tempts him into picking it up. Against his better judgement, he puts it in his pocket. Rubbing his eyes, the young man brushes off the strange encounter. "God, what a day."

...

With his first visit, the sight that meets Saros' eyes blows his mind. The woman who once wore a thin, long sleeved shirt regardless of the weather now dons a tank top and jeans. Her arms, although still coated in makeup, seem a bit more toned. Her body language is less reserved, and she seems...happy. Tired, but happy. Soot covers a rounded face, one that looks up at him with a smile.

A flirting attempt is made before dinner, using the opportunity of her scrubbing her face to get closer. As his thumb glides over her cheek with the rag, their eyes lock. Only for her neck to nearly pop with the force of her quickly turning towards Clank. It's not a total loss, however, as the flirt seems to fluster Nova a bit. Maybe that's a good sign?

"Clank, is this the series you and Ratchet were in? Can we watch it?" The college student's ears prick up at the name, now realizing that his crush's companion is the Clank. As the pieces click together, Saros questions her further, only to be met with avoidance on her part. Why hide your face at that? The subject is dropped, for now.

Watching Secret Agent Clank also brings forth new information. She seems particularly interested in Jeeves, for some reason. Teasing her about this doesn't give a flustered response, so he believes her when she claims no romantic preference for furred species. Still, the focus in her eyes when Jeeves and Clank are both present is noticeable.

One final flirting attempt is made that night. As he leans in for a short kiss before he leaves, Nova moves away at the last second. The gesture lands on her cheek, which gets the point across just fine. Sitting in his ship afterwards, the markazian smiles, brushing off his doubts. "I don't need that guy, I can do this on my own. Just have to be patient."

…

Ready for round two, Saros gently parks his star cruiser just on the edge of the Kyzil Plateau. In the distance, there's the faint sound of explosions and gunfire. "Judging by your texts, that's gotta be you, Starlight."

The young woman before him seems a completely different person than the timid girl mumbling as she wipes down a bakery counter. This soldier-in-training expertly dances around gunfire, as if it comes as naturally as breathing. Each and every enemy in her path is obliterated one by one. Saros clears his throat, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

Making his way closer and closer, the music that plays as she trains becomes more noticeable. The radio is carefully stuck in the dirt, blaring out a tune amidst the sounds of battle. The final Zurkon is reduced to scrap, and Saros turns off the radio. Her response to his presence is a curt interrogation as to why he's here in the first place. As if he's not needed or wanted there.

Any further attempt at a flirt is interrupted by a stray Zurkon that nearly ended his life right then and there. Instead of death, Saros was met with seeing Nova glare daggers into the spot where the robot once hovered. Her eyes seem a completely different color, and her focus seemed unnatural.

Adrenaline leaves him too stunned to question such things at the moment.

Finally, he pops the question, hoping that a 'yes' will give Nova something to fight for, something to come home to. Instead of a decent response, he's verbally shoved to the side. What is there to 'figure out', Nova? He considers her excuse.

"When this is over, I promise I'll give you a straight answer. Okay, Saros?"

...

Back at home, Saros lies on his couch with a book in his face. 'Flirting for Morons' and cheesy romance novels sent him into a dead end, so he resorted to other means. His phone vibrates with messages from a group chat; classmates giving their best advice to no avail. The young man groans. "What am I doing wrong?" The question is slept on for now.

…

The early morning heat pulls all of the strength out of the terrified markazian. Frantically banging on the garage door earns him no answer. "Nova, please! Are you there? Clank? Anybody?!"

There's no response. Texts aren't going through, either. Saros grips his phone nervously, pacing the desert sand. "Call Nova," he begs the device. One ring, two rings...

"Hello, this is Nova. I'm sorry I missed your call, but please leave me a message and I'll get back to you." There's a short pause, then Nova's voice mumbles away from the mic. "Um...do I just hang up or…Okay, I got it."

He hangs up with a sigh. "Where are you, Nova? Please tell me you're alright." Looking through her profile, the nav-unit icon is greyed out. Inactive, for who knows what reason. "You're not training, otherwise you and Aphelion would be here. Where could you have gone?!"

The most worried part of him thinks back to the day she left. What if she's been ambushed? The very thought makes his heart drop to his stomach. Sticking his hands into his pockets, Saros touches a small holo card. A holo card with coordinates. The material's shimmer seems brighter against the scorching Veldin sun. "If anyone will know where she's at, it's you."

…

Lawrence updates his employer with the latest security scans. "Sir, I believe your visitor has arrived."

The robotic mastermind gives a crooked, calculating grin. "Splendid! I knew he'd be here before long. Let him through."

A few troopers escort the markazian directly into his office, locking the door behind themselves. The organic stares at him, glaring with caution. "Doctor Nefarious. Where is she? I know you've probably sent your goons to her, and I want to know where."

Crimson optics roll to the back of his skull. "First of all, I haven't sent any troops to her, you moron. Why would I waste my time on her if she doesn't have the skill to make things interesting yet? Second of all, even if I did send out a squad, what makes you think I'd tell you about it?"

"She's a stronger woman than you think she is," the organic defends.

"Is she now? I wouldn't be aware." The doctor leans down to Saros, a condescending smirk on his face plate. "But then again, neither would you."

Saros backs off, eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

Nefarious stands tall, pacing around him. He scrapes a claw across the young man's shoulder blades, with just enough force that he begins to shiver. Through fear, or just the gentle pressure, the robot isn't entirely sure. Either one is just as entertaining. "I'm implying that I've been watching you. Both of you, really. That wannabe hero of yours is so desperate to prove herself that you don't even exist." The organic stiffens as a metal jaw lowers itself to his ear. "I can change that."

As Nefarious turns away towards his computer, Saros questions him as files are moved and rearranged. "How? Aren't you the one that caused all this?"

"I haven't caused anything; I'm just reaping the benefits. You want to know who's really to blame?" A button is pressed, and multiple tabs open on his main computer. News articles, security cameras, and amateur footage far older than Saros are revealed. "Here's your culprit." Taking a step back, sharp claws extend out to the screen, as if to say 'pick your poison, squishy.'

The young man's eyes slowly pan over the wall of information, and he reaches a hand for the closest video. In the footage, a squadron of tyhrranoid reinforcements marches towards Marcadia's presidential compound. The building itself is already crawling with troops, and it seems that the door is close to crumbling.

As the video plays, Saros glares at the taller robot. "What is this?"

"Just watch."

Just as it seems that all hope is lost for the Galactic Rangers, gunshots begin to mow down the tyrrahnoids. Robotic cheers clip the audio, and Ratchet and Clank come into view. The heroic duo jumps, shoots, dodges, and brings a clean victory with a fluid grace that's truly a sight to behold. The video ends as the last of Nefarious' goons are taken down, and Ratchet shoots the camera.

The young man slowly backs away from the screen, turning back to the villain. "Why are you showing me this? What does this stuff have to do with Nova?"

"Looks a bit familiar, doesn't it squishy?"

Saros rewinds things, slowing down the battle to study it and zooming into the long gone lombax. There's a pattern to it, the way he moves and shoots. The markazian looks back to the villain for confirmation. "Clank's been teaching her how to be Ratchet?"

"He's molding her into the man she was before," Nefarious clarifies.

The markazian rolls his eyes with a scoff, chuckling at the very idea. "Yeah, right. That would mean she's his reincarnation or something. Like some soap opera or anime. That's fantasy stuff."

Two metal eyebrow plates are raised with a shrug. "Sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction, boy. Sorcery like that is very real, if you know where to look."

Crossing his arms, Saros stares into the villain's back as he types. "And how do you know all this?"

Nefarious pulls up his records of Quantos, bringing attention to rows of fluctuating readings. "You might believe that the Zoni are just the most popular religion in Polaris, but you're wrong. Quantos hosts the strongest concentration of Zoni energy out of any populated planet in the universe."

"Why is that important?"

"Let me finish, you insolent little-" the doctor growls at the interruption. Patience, Nefarious. This will all be worthwhile soon, he reminds himself. He calls on his anger management classes, centering himself. "...That's important because there already exists the technology to transfer a consciousness into another form. I can thank my time on Magnus for that information. But the Zoni? They are capable of so much more."

The doctor pulls up another file, one that has Nova's face and it's own set of data. "Your little girlfriend here is a product of that kind of sorcery. Her body gives off radiation, similar to a Zoni." To demonstrate this, he brings up data from Orvus' interrogation. One of the columns on each side matches up. "But there's one problem: this frequency right here." He points to the culprit.

"What is that?"

"I've modified a bioscan program with a code that scans for these frequencies, the 'soul' so to speak. Similar tech to what's already used to move a consciousness. If you run it through…" The computer is fed the data, and it slowly processes things. A list of common species is filtered through, arranged in alphabetical order. Saros watches with curious awe as the computer narrows things down.

Lombax: Positive

Markazian: Positive

Zoni Bioenergy Reading: Positive

"Three results? That's...that's not possible. It's got to be a glitch or something."

"It's not, because I've worked on this code for a very long time. Watch." Like a quick-drawn pistol, Nefarious whips out the camera he once used on Nova. Before there's any time to dodge or look away, Saros is stunned by the flash.

Rubbing his face and regaining his balance, he snarls at the villain. "What the hell was that?!"

"It was a harmless bioscan, you simpleton. Look."

Lombax: No Match

Markazian: Positive

Zoni Bioenergy Reading: Negative

Saros soaks in the information, all of the pieces falling into place. "That weird frequency is him. So that means...she's really him in a new body?"

"It's written in her DNA to be what Ratchet was, a hero. She may not know it, but she never had a choice."

Saros locks eyes with Nova's photo. He wonders for a moment what that kind of knowledge is like for her. "No wonder she's so stuck on this 'hero' business. Is there anything I can do to help her?"

"Hmm…" The doctor taps his claws against his chin, feigning deep thought. "Maybe there is. But you have to do something for me first."

"Anything."

A claw is opened to the young man, holding a small piece of jewelry. "Put this on."

The markazian pinches the loop between his fingers, turning it in the light. "An earring?"

"This earring is a communications device, and holds records of combat techniques you've witnessed. I need you to get me information on that girl. How she fights, more up-to-date readings. I can't do a thing without more direct data to work with. A DNA sample too, if you can."

"How do you expect me to fight that?" Saros throws his arm towards the screenshot of Ratchet and Clank. I mean, I can sort of shoot, but not to that level!"

"That's what the earring is for. I don't have the time or patience to teach you how to beat her, so we're going to cheat the system and wire the methods into your brain. Think of it as…" Nefarious turns away, just imagining the results with a smile. "Artificial memories."

The idea of something digging into his brain causes the markazian to back up defensively. "That seems...dangerous." He looks towards the exit. "I don't know about this, doc."

The doctor turns to face his guest, with all of the intimidation that one can expect from a supervillain such as himself. "Then I'll phrase it this way: you will help me. If you do, I'll leave her alone when all is said and done. After I have what I want, you and the girl can live out the rest of your miserable squishy lives together."

The robot leans in close to make his point clear. "But if you fail me, or try to rat me out, I'll make sure you have a front row seat when I kill her myself. And everyone else you care for will be next, Saros Mendrano."

Saros gulps down the knot in his throat, terrified at just how much intel this villain could have on him and his loved ones. Clasping the earring in his hand, he makes his decision. "I'll...I'll do it. Just promise me that she won't get hurt."

A sharpened claw stretches across the markazian's body. "Of course, you have my word. LAWRENCE!"

Saros cringes at the noise's close proximity. The butler raises his eyes, having never left the room in the first place. "What do you need, sir?"

Nefarious sends the young man off with the other robot. "Get our newest employee fitted for armor, and prepare his files for transfer."

"Of course, sir." The door opens, and the two of them leave for the appropriate room. A devious grin spreads across Nefarious' face as the door shuts. The poor, lovestruck fool was so desperate, he never bothered to notice that metallic fingers were crossed.

"Squishies are far too easy."