Nova 7 - By Bones And Patches

by Phantom R.D.S. Foxx

OC focused story. The sequel to Nova 7 - Emergence. From the frying pan into the fire. Having survived Metro, Trevor and his new plus 1 meet old friends and flames and are thrust into more madness above ground. Survival is not guaranteed... Rated M for descriptive violence and heavy themes. Featuring Kip Starnova from Minty-Fivestar.

1. 1 - Welcome to 'Neria

1 - Welcome to 'Neria

- Arrival

A low, bassy rumble causes his eyelids to part every so slightly before they close again. But the call of sleep is not strong enough to keep them closed a second time. With an audible and slightly embarrassingly loud snore, does his head fall off the comfortable shoulder of his +1. Only to be caught by his awakened neck muscles in instinctual reflex before he would faceplant unceremoniously into her lap.

The jolt startles him more awake, although someone screaming orders might also be a contributing factor. Groggy, he tries to get a grip on his surroundings. His vision is misty, as if he has been welling up tears for the last hour or so. Is that how long his nap was?

Regardless, he is still in the environment he fell asleep in. In the passenger cabin of a transport ship. The type he is not 100% sure of… not that it matters much.

Then the doors on the side open up and the sudden difference in brightness blinds him for a moment. Along with the increasingly loud noise of the engines now no longer being dampened. Only when he covers the light with his hand, does it become slightly comfortable. And as his eyes adjust to it, he feels a sudden nudge in his back. When he looks behind him, he sees that Patches has woken up as well and while stretching accidentally elbowed him. She apologizes but his attention is drawn to the female crew chief.

"We have arrived! You two can continue to sleep together at camp, not in my bird anymore. All of you, out! Out! Out!" she orders in no uncertain terms.

And all those that were with Cherokee 3-0 before they picked the Corporal and his Militia companion follow that command to a t. All of them get out of the right side of the "bird". And in his sleep drunken state he wants to follow along, only to be shouted at by the crew chief again.

"Where are you going? Your exit is to my left! And I hate repeating myself, so get out of my bird! Out! Out! Out!"

Wondering how he was supposed to know about that, he obliges. One does not mess with the crew chief of a transport ship. They are the boss inside there and you are to listen or kiss your ride goodbye. Good thing they are trained to know what they are doing so most of the time if you get shouted at, it is because you messed up in some way.

"Thanks for the ride!" he shouts right back as he gets off with all his stuff.

It is a small hop to the ground as the ship is hovering. That way, it can get going quicker again. They must have a tight schedule, hence why it is all rushed. Then he sees Patches get out as well but she clearly did not expect the drop so she lands a little worse for wear.

Uttering very colorful words, Trevor helps her back up. Luckily she did not sprain anything and the both now watch the ship take to the air again, on its way to another mission.

The pair now stands on solid ground again. Well, slightly solid. It is actually very muddy with large rubber walkways placed haphazardly to create somewhat of a path. A path that goes throughout the entire camp they have just set foot in. There is a lot of damp green coloring, a wooden fingerpost at a T-junction ahead and fabric tents as far as the eye can see. Only broken up by the occasionally marching group of soldiers, an improvised kitchen and a shipping container that has been repurposed as a storage unit for weapons. Guarded obviously.

It all looks old and slapped together in record time. Which might not be entirely inaccurate, given the resources that, what remains of the Cornerian Army present on Corneria itself, has left to use. So if they manage to scrape something like this together, which looks and acts both functional and relatively decent, it is quite the achievement.

The smell is something different. A combination of sweat, burning metal, cooked food, vehicle exhaust, wet dog and industrial disinfectant. A weird mixture of a factory floor, a food court and a gym where burly men grunt and pant.

All well and good for descriptions, but they are essentially now dropped off without any instructions or directions on where to go. Patches wants to go out and investigate but Trevor holds her back.

"That might not be a good idea. Militia, especially new at camp, need to be accompanied by their guide so to say. Until a certain amount of time has passed that their general presence there is known." he tells her.

"Since when is a camp filled with soldiers acting like a hivemind?" she chuckles.

"Civilians are not allowed inside. For obvious reasons. And since you are somewhere in between but definitely not a soldier yet, it is an unnecessary risk to draw any unnecessary attention to you." he reasons.

That she understands. And when she looks over her outfit and compares it with what everyone else is wearing around it, she sticks out like a sore, blue thumb. What does a cop have to do within a military base? Are MP's not bad enough already?

And then she also remembers the patch on her shoulder. Something that this wench of a crew chief tried to give her flak for. If anyone else here were to give the same reaction, it could have a domino effect.

"I see." she sighs.

"What do we do now then?"

"We wait for some person with a clipboard to tell us where to go. Usually those are present the moment any transport arrives, but I'm not surprised there is no one here now."

"Because of the war?"

"Correct, Patch. Even bureaucracy doesn't work perfectly 100% of the time. I know that is hard to believe but when there is war, it is even worse." he says sarcastically, whereupon she scoffs.

"Try police bureaucracy. The amount of paperwork that needs to be done is beyond ridiculous. And yes, I said paperwork. Nothing digital, at least not yet. That was going to be implemented in the coming months. But guess what?"

"War?"

"War."

She sighs deep again and tries to remain positive. The thought of those lonely, long nights having to stay awake while combing through stacks and stacks of paper under a reading light… simply unbearable. That she ever got through those might be proof that some deity actually exists. But that lies in the past, hopefully. She is now on a better path, one with more action than paperwork. She assumes at least. Otherwise she might just blame it all on Trevor just to be cheeky.

- Back in business

The two have taken a seat on a bench that, at one point, might have been a bus station. And they wait for their pick-up. They continue to chat about stuff they do not like and how that will no longer be a problem for them anymore. On the occasion there is even some gossip about their time in the metro. And what either might have missed or experienced.

But as Patches intends to bring up Trevor's obliviousness when it comes to Quinn potentially being attracted to him, a soldier with a clipboard runs into view. Looking just old enough for his balls to have dropped only recently and exhausted to no end. It is like he just ran three marathons in a row. He looks around and then when he sees the pair on the couch, he sprints towards them.

"That's our pick-up I presume. Come on."

The both of them stand up and the boy with the clipboard greets them.

"S-sorry for… phew! Sorry for the delay. I was at the wrong section up north while I needed the east section. Sorry again. But if you are Corporal… uhm…"

The poor lad is scurrying through the papers attached to the board before he finds what he hopes is the right form.

"Corporal DeLange?"

"The one and only."

Trevor's response does not get an immediate response or salute, as is usually customary. Instead the boy looks starstruck.

"Is he okay?" interjects Patches whispering.

Trevor almost dreads to answer it.

"I have no idea. Kid? You in there?"

He claps his hands twice in front of his face and the boy is back into reality.

"S-Sorry. Again. It is just… You are Nova 7. The Nova 7!" he calls out loud enough for just about everyone around to hear, which Trevor does not appreciate very much.

"I thought you guys were just a story to keep the morale up but you are actually real. And you… look like hammered shit. Wow." he finishes his fangirling with a little bit of a damper at the end.

"Thanks, we hadn't noticed already. So we are hot stuff around here huh? Good, then turn the heat and volume down and tell us where to go." he orders passive aggressive as all hell.

No need for unnecessary attention and especially not when they seemingly have a reputation. The last thing they need is someone loudly salivating all over them. A shower with normal water, some rest and a debriefing will do. That or getting reunited with Kip, his partner he got cut off from.

The boy tones down his excitement then and more restrained asks them to follow him. They are to meet up with their contact person, Nelson, for a debrief. As the Captain himself is currently unavailable.

"We shall take what we can get. Lead the way." he non-so-subtly suggests with his arm stretched out.

The clipboard holder nods and turns around on the spot and leads them through the camp. When the two set their first steps, Patches nudges him again. This time on purpose.

"Did you have to be so rude to him? He was obviously glad to see us." she says sympathetically.

"And we are some symbol of hope around here. Isn't that good?"

Trevor bobs his head from side to side with dubio written on his face.

"In a way, perhaps. But I have no idea what they have been saying about us. What propaganda machine is working here. Until we know that for sure, it is best to keep low. Some gents around here are not above jealousy or aversion." he reasons.

"Very risk averse but also a little unnecessary I believe. But, this is your show. I'm new here so I'll follow your example." she promises, a little disappointed.

"Lemme propose this then; if we are pictured positively, then we can bathe in admiration and I'll admit I was wrong." Trevor suggests in response to her slightly dejected tone.

"But if not… then you were right. I agree to those terms."

The two shake hands and continue to follow the clipboard soldier. Underway they see more of the camp. More tents, soldiers relaxing, someone screaming bloody murder in a suspiciously closed off tent with a red cross painted on it and some eyes and whispering around them. Unfortunately, further on the rubber walkways are replaced with wooden boards sporadically placed around with some rubber underneath them to prevent them from slipping away. It almost requires one to jump if they do not want mud on their boots. Considering the type of footwear she is wearing, it is not exactly a pleasant experience.

Seeing her get more distant from him as she has to maneuver a lot more, he tells the clipboard guy to hold up as he goes to pick her up. Quite literally. He can see that her gaze is focused on the marshy soil around her trying to figure out a path. She is no prude by any measure but wet/muddy/dirty feet in a war? High chance that trenchfoot will come knocking.

He whistles a short tune to get her attention. And when she looks up, he sees him with his back bare towards her, pointing at it. The radio is placed next to him on the ground.

"Hop on! One time offer only." he winks at her, absolutely ready to give her a piggyback ride.

At first she tends to decline, but seeing the environment ahead is not getting any better, she is more attracted to the idea. Secondly, she thinks about what the rest might think. Those around them that might have confused or surprised reactions to this. Not that they cannot have fun with friends, but that this kind of somewhat childish action is usually reserved for when the appropriate amount of alcohol is in play.

But perhaps more importantly… who cares what those around them think? Do they even know who they are? If clipboard-guy keeps his mouth shut, they probably will not attract that much more attention than if they were just walking.

All this pondering done in about the span of five or so seconds, she takes him up on his offer and jumps right onto his back. His arms hook around her legs and he bends to accommodate her better. Her arms wrap over his shoulders to get at the right altitude before slipping in underneath his armpits and wrapping around his upper body for added grip. Like she is sitting behind him on a motorcycle.

But it would not be him if he did not make it more dramatic, by suggesting she might lay off the carrot cake more often. And he, deservedly so, gets a light slap on the head for that.

With new and more lively baggage on his back, he drops his radio off at the clipboard guy so he can pull his weight in this endeavor. Literally in this case. And as the unfortunate soul puts the antique block of metal and inner compartments on his back, he now realizes why he is able to have a 1,60 meter tall energetic bunny on his back with full packing without breaking a sweat.

Mercilessly, Trevor tells him to get a move on as he knows where they have to go and report to. And woe betide us if he damages it. As the clipboard and radio carrying soldier shuffles forward, Patches gets into the spirit of her new "mount" and proclaims her new noble steed should go forward.

Rolling his eyes but quite amused, he obliges and follows the burdened soul ahead of them. If anything, they are back in business.

- Catching up

"Next time you call me "noble steed" again, I will change this piggyback into a fireman's carry." Trevor grumbles sarcastically after some distance.

"Oh, come on Corporal. Let's keep it jovial for as long as we can. Once I'm a real soldier, the fun will be gone and we'll have to do everything by the book. So let's enjoy ourselves a bit." she proclaims in good spirits.

"What? You don't think we won't be having fun still? Maybe a little more by the book, sure. But we can still be informal." he assures.

"But only when not in the presence of higher-ups or when on a mission. Then it is time for serious business."

Hearing this pleases her. It is the answer she was hoping for. There is a time and a place for seriousness and plain old fun. As long as there is a good balance, she will be satisfied. And with that assurance in the back of her head, she decides to be playfully cheeky.

"Maybe my new ride requires a nice curb bit? Nicely decorated with tough leather reins for easy control." she imagines but unable to keep a convincing straight face.

Hence why Trevor is not following through on his earlier warning. He thinks it is endearing that she is having so much fun, even if it is a little bit at his expense. But it is all good-hearted back and forth. And if it means that it keeps her spirits up, he will put up with some humiliation. Pretty sure she would do the same for him. If she has not already done that.

When he looks ahead, he notices that his thinking has caused them to fall behind. They have been dawdling, something he would give someone a verbal spanking for if he found out.

"Oi! Rider!" he calls out.

"We've been falling behind. Gimme some spurs."

She is tempted to mimic Silva's whiskey cowboy voice but she would probably vomit in her mouth if she thought of that bastard for any longer than a second. So she gives it her own interpretation of a southern drawl; which is completely terrible but gives this whole scenario so much more character.

And then she gives him the spurs. Of course, acted out more than actually jabbing something sharp into this thigh. She holds onto the back of his undershirt's collar as he starts "galloping", skipping from beam to beam or stomping straight into the mud until they catch up with the clipboard soldier. Who seems strangely none the wiser.

"Attah boy." she compliments while having him a well deserved pat on the shoulder.

He resists giving her a typical horse snort, that would be a little too much roleplaying for the fun thing they have going on. And Patches goes along with this as she lets go of his collar and wraps her arm back around him.

"We're almost there." the clipboard soldier calls out as he turns around a corner of what looked like an old trench.

In fact, it is an entrance to a trench system which the both of them see as they too turn the corner. Wood with some metal grates adorn the floor and the walls, with drainage running underneath it. Fairly well arranged and with tons of soldiers manning them. If they have to push through that mass, it could end awkwardly.

The clipboard guy however leads them out of there. Back into the mud and sporadic beams. It is almost as if he was giving them a guided tour. But now Trevor understands why it took him so long to get to them.

After a few more corners, they walk towards a building that Trevor suspects used to be a public latrine at one point. Aside from the massive hole that has been blown out of the side and the large antenna that is sticking out for all to see.

Not extremely keen on entering a structure like that if he can help it, he has no choice but to follow him. Perhaps it will not be so bad as he imagines it to be. Not that the military is very well known for good hygiene standards. Unless it is enforced, then everything is as clean as a whistle. And now that he thinks about it, the Captain is quite the enforcer so he has faith.

And luckily, it is not misplaced; no rancid smell is assaulting his nostrils as they get to the entrance. The clipboard soldier reports himself to one of the two guards at the entrance, points at the pair, then back to his clipboard. And that is seemingly enough for him to be dismissed and the soldier runs away, probably catching up to his next appointed drop-off. Making sure to return Trevor's radio first of course, none the wiser about the Aparoid core still stuck to it.

"Corporal Trevor, please wait here. He will be right with you." states one of the guards, stone faced and barely moving.

Although the guard next to him cracks a little smirk when he sees the duo piggybacking. Realizing that she is still riding him, Trevor helps her back on her own two feet while they wait as is instructed.

Good thing that they do not have to wait long, as the door of the building opens. Out come two people: one taller female all dressed up as a standard dog soldier. Wearing CDF gear and thankfully not infected with Aparoidedation. She is literally talking down a smaller man who hands her back a report and compliments her on its quality. Before dismissing her and quickly checking his schedule.

The man looks nothing like a soldier, aside from the boots and a camo jacket-pants combo that looks too big on him. It is a sand-colored shrew with a brighter brown-reddish nose. He has green, beady eyes that look like they are about to pop out of their sockets, as if someone smacked him on the back of the head too hard. His light, almost gold blond hair in a pompadour style looks smooth and greased at the same time. Where he would get any proper hair gel in this place might be a miracle in and of itself.

The moment he looks away from his schedule, he puffs and wipes his forehead in supposed exhaustion. His complaining about having a schedule tighter than "a nun's asshole" can be clearly heard. And once more, the other guard cannot help but crack a smirk. The combination of his overdone acting, ranting, his height and the relatively low grit of his voice is indeed quite humorous. But the sass from his radio messages is definitely audible. And more flamboyance is visible.

Then his green eyes look upon Trevor and Patches and they light up. Any exhaustion or annoyance is dramatically cast aside.

"There you two are!" he shouts while approaching them with open arms, slightly less bassy than his complaining.

While he does so, he casually tosses the schedule away in the mud somewhere.

"Nelson, I presume. You sound different on the air." Trevor notices.

"Better or worse?" the shrew quickly checks before assuming himself that it must be worse.

"No matter, you got the real thing here now. I was worried; I was already thinking you got lost somewhere in this labyrinth. I sent a runner who I think…"

He starts looking around, confused.

"Already… ran. Yeah, makes sense. Anyway! Glad to see you two! But boy, do you both look like hammered shit!"

"That's what Metro does to you." quotes Patches.

"I believe you, I believe you. Ah! Where are my manners? Come on in, you two must be parched and starved out there."

He beckons them over and the pair pass the guards with no problem. Patches follows behind last and closes the door of the base behind her. And locks it at the request of Nelson.

The inside is exactly what can be expected of what used to be a public restroom. A hallway leading to two doorways. The men's and the woman's bathroom. Once again, not exactly progressive but no one seemed to really care this much about it.

The only difference to the normal restroom, is a trapdoor in the floor at the end of the hallway. Above it, is a machine gun port mounted in the wall and is currently manned by someone on the other side of said wall.

"More guests for the dungeon, Nelson?" the unknown gunner behind the wall teases.

"Not with that attitude, Frank." Nelson bites back just as teasing before turning back to the pair.

"Don't pay attention to him. He'll save your ass in a heartbeat but he is a terrible host. Unlike me." he states confidently as he types in a code on his phone.

A few beeps later, the door unlocks and Nelson swings it open. And graciously allows the pair to go in first. As a good host should according to him. As they descend down the stairs, he closes the trapdoor behind them. A locking mechanism is heard bolting it all shut and a motion sensor triggers the lights directly in front of them to turn on.

They have entered a massive, underground radio communication hub. A lot of soldiers and civilian personnel manning the radio's. Either changing existing automated lines, answering direct communications and generally acting like those ancient switchboard operators. But with a lot less wires and easier to comprehend. It seems that Nelson is not alone in what he does. Furthermore, it would explain the commotion and noise they could hear in the background whenever he was on. As people are doing a lot with paperwork still too. There is even one who uses a photocopier in the back.

While they are admiring the resourcefulness, Nelson guides them into a soundproofed office, that is pretty much sectioned off completely from the rest. The windows are covered in a plastic that blurs the vision of anyone trying to peer inside. The door closes and Nelson sits down behind a fairly simple table, acting like a desk. With two flip-open chairs for his guests to unfold themselves.

"Make yourself comfortable, we did try our best. There is a water cooler in the corner in case you are thirsty. And do not be cautious with your intake, we have plenty left." Nelson suggests as he digs into a pile of reports he has beside him.

He curses more as he does this, lamenting the lack of a proper filing cabinet before getting the correct one and putting it on the table. While he is flipping through the pages, Patches takes her seat while Trevor goes to get them a cup of water each after putting down his radio on the floor. He is tempted to fill his entire Metro Society bottle and despite Nelson's insistence on going nuts on the intake, he still likes to limit it as much as possible. Especially in a war, rationing can only work advantageously.

As he comes back with two cups and sits down, the shrew has managed to find what he was looking for.

"There we are. Well now, here we are. Nova 7, in the flesh. Exciting! Now, let's do this by the book or the Captain will blow a gasket. I am to… write your autobiography it seems." he exaggerates while reading a document stating something far less dramatic.

"Well, I better get started then."

A pen is clicked.

"From the beginning. Corporal, how about you start off first?"

- Reminiscing

Trevor starts telling his story. From the moment he was seperated from Kip. Skulking around the empty tube system before he finally stumbled upon the metro station in question. And that is where the two met each other. On opposite sides, not as friendlies.

Nelson then turns to Patches. How she came to be in that metro station. And she did not have a great time either. Which is also new for Trevor to hear. She was at a police gala that day. Organized by the Cornerian Police Department for themselves and all their "sister" branches in nearby towns and cities. Which also included the Coronet Police Department. A lot of police all gathered in a big building makes for a juicy target. So when the Aparoids crashed through the Fleet's lines, they were powerless to resist.

She remembers one of those creatures crashing the party. It slammed itself through the glass as it came down like an asteroid. A massive hole formed in the floor before the thing emerged none the worse for wear. Then it started blasting. And then more came. It was a bloodbath. Those that stood their ground were slaughtered. Those that ran were slaughtered. Only a few managed to avoid the carnage. She, Jane, Felix and the Sheriff were the few lucky ones. Already dressed for the occasion, they decided to find sanctuary somewhere. Hence the metro station. And given there were already people hiding there, the Sheriff aimed to take the reins.

There were more people then too, calling it home. Had already set up something here and there. But it was not a tight knit group. Only small groups of people knew and bonded with each other. Making for disjointed camps that did not communicate at all with each other. And they could not agree on who led and did not care that much about their safety, believing some crap that was broadcast on the airwaves.

But the Aparoids attacked and were only barely beaten back. A lot of people had perished. Their beds marked with a red X and their corpses stashed away at the very end of the collapsed tunnel. The one Trevor was suggested not to go into because it collapsed anyway.

Given how the remaining civilians owed their lives to those who held the guns, the Sheriff made it clear that this place was now under police control. Or more accurately; his control. Had Felix fiddle with the machinery and set something up. Using the stuff from those that had died already. This control went on for sometime until Trevor came along to shake things up.

"But not because I wanted to." the Corporal clarifies with a raised finger.

"I was emotionally blackmailed."

"And I helped with that. Sadly." Patches admits with a hint of shame.

"So it was a good thing that you were coerced into being there?" Nelson brings up.

"In the end, I came out better than how I started out. I would say, it was worth it. Would do it all again, especially because now I got my new partner right here." Trevor concludes as he points at the appreciated rabbit.

Nelson then continues by asking them how they came to be partners then. If they could not see eye to eye with each other when they first met, how then are they this close now? In a platonic way of course.

Patches swallows hard. Having to think about how she was then in terms of relationships. She had a strong dislike for soldiers and their type. Nelson can see his question has unknowingly touched on a sensitive spot and offers to skip it if she does not feel like sharing.

But she shakes her head; she can do this. She tells him about how the Sheriff treated her. And what he did before, to her eye. Or rather, ordered Felix to do it for him. Just like Trevor, Nelson calls him a coward and allows Patches to continue her story.

The Sheriff already guessed that Trevor was not going to cooperate, so perhaps in an effort to rid himself of two useless and potentially hindering individuals, he decided to dump them into the basement together to fix an electricity problem. Caused by a massive Aparoid swarm leaching from the core.

Whether or not he knew, is unknown and irrelevant; he just wanted to get rid of two unruly people that did not like each other anyway. Perfect combination. If whatever is causing the problems does not finish them, then they will surely scratch each other's eyes out.

But the opposite happened; they found that they could communicate openly, banter a little bit and overall find a certain pleasure out of each other's company. But it was mainly when they were forced into a supply closet where their partnership blossomed.

Trevor reminisces about how she had to drag his "old" ass with her while fleeing from a massive armored Aparoid that had escaped containment and the containment units. That last part is quite interesting to Nelson but he does not let it see. They found refuge in that room.

Having a breather, they found themselves more comfortable with each other. To the point where she did not feel the need to recoil from his touch when he applied some first aid to her black eye.

"And that is when he asked me to become a Militia. I said yes quite quickly as it was more of a title at that moment. But after we dispatched that giant Aparoid, we got into the core. And that's when I managed to get this cut underneath my other eye." tells Patches.

"Another Aparoid?" guesses Nelson, frantically writing along.

"Kind of?"

Patches turns to Trevor, who is just as short of descriptive words as she is.

"It looked more like some kind of mutant for sure. A strange combination of man and bug. It managed to scratch me and then knock me out. Luckily Corporal Trevor didn't leave me behind and helped me back up."

"I owed her." he quips, whereupon he gets a faint stomp on the upper arm from the saved one.

"No you didn't. You came because you cared." she corrects him, to which Trevor eventually agrees after a vague "threat" to stomp him again.

Nelson observes this duo, who act more like friends than a military unit. As if this was completely informal. No discipline is enforced by the superior after being "struck" by his subordinate. A strange thing to see, even if the subordinate is a Militia and not a full soldier yet. But clearly, they are effective. Otherwise they would not be sitting here in front of him. He does make a note of this behavior in his report but does not dwell on it.

The story continues, to the point where Patches takes her position more seriously and actually considers leaving her current occupation for a ceremonial position. Not that what she currently had was any good at all but it might present a risk.

The risk was taken away when the Sheriff started bellowing against her. Trying to belittle her, drive her back into a corner and squash her "rebellious" attitude she had "regained" thanks to Trevor. But this time it did not work. Knowing Trevor was with her, maybe not in person, it still was enough for her to tilt the balance in her favor. She quit.

"I dropped that tin shield on the ground in front of him. And walked away. It was hard, but it felt good too."

"Impressive. That is some character growth. I guess one can overcome a lot of things with someone behind them. Power of friendship huh?" Nelson teases a little bit as he flips the page so he can continue writing the report.

"I read here that you were not alone in your efforts when it came to this "Metro Society" thing and its defense. A certain "Peter" and "Quinn" pop up in this. Where do they come in?"

Both Trevor and Patches start talking about them, but quickly realize that talking at the same time is not working out. She lets him have the word on Peter, on how he was a broken war veteran in a strained relationship that needed a pick-me-up in the form of medication. Which Trevor had on him for personal use. But he found it much more useful to share it. A seasoned soldier and therefore perfect for the battlefield. Aside from the trauma that sometimes rears its ugly head.

In turn, he lets her have the word on Quinn. That nerdy wizzkid with a pure heart. Reluctant to cause any hurt or death unless it was implied with those models he is so enamored with. Reclusive unless engaged with. And once he was open, he was a joy to be around. Even if his humor or hobbies were not everyone's forté. He played a pivotal role on the home front by raising his voice at the right times in favor of Trevor and herself. Got them out of a sticky situation near the end.

"Yup. That was when I called you in about those blue helmets." Trevor hooks in.

"Without Quinn's vocal interference, I might not have been here. At least not in one piece as that bastard wanted to tear me to shreds."

"Good thing then that you had additional support." Nelson says as he pauses his writing.

"Holding the line is relatively simple in its concept; stay in your position as the enemy tries to dislodge you. Remedy their resolve with bullets. If that doesn't work, treat with more bullets. But the home front, you need a quick tongue and some charm for that. Along with an already present support base. Those are different kinds of battles."

"I lost one battle." laments Trevor averse, thinking back to the incident with Darwin.

"It was not pretty."

"They never are. But you brought them all back alive. Except for one… I believe it was this Felix fellow?"

"Her former partner."

"I wouldn't say partner." Patches quickly corrects him.

"In description, yes. In reality, he was my ball and chain. Someone to spy on me, keep me in line. But I have a feeling he did not do it because he had something against me personally. He was just ordered to be a bastard against me."

"By the Sheriff?" Nelson checks real quick.

"Yeah. He was like a programmed robot. Pretty much mute and with those uncomfortably-always-wide-open eyes. But he still fought with us against the Aparoids. And during our last interaction, I saw something in him. A change, acting more like a person. He showed resistance to the Sheriff's orders. I still dislike him, but no longer hate him. I would say go so far as to say that. Especially after he only gave us some last words."

Nelson looks for the right page to confirm in what way Felix had fallen.

"A massive Aparoid got him? How much hell did he give before he fell?"

"He did not let go of the trigger on the machine gun he was manning. Really went down with the ship. Or bunker-kiosk in this case." Trevor praises, with no hint of sarcasm.

Nelson nods along satisfied.

"After the big bastard was dead, the remainder pulled back. We had some downtime, Quinn found the Aparoid core and that is when the radio started working and you came into view."

"Was happy to! Gave you your fancy name too."

Nelson saying that triggers something with Patches and she is quite surprised why it did not click for Trevor. After all, he was the one all fussy about people knowing about Nova 7. She leans over to him and whispers it to him.

"Oh! Good one, thanks Patch." he whispers back to her before turning to Nelson, who was just about to ask something.

"Sorry to interrupt Nelson, but when your runner came to pick us up, he was starstruck when we mentioned we were Nova 7. Care to explain?"

At first Nelson looks like he does not know what Trevor is talking about. But the exact moment it clicks, he finds it rather humorous. Especially when the Corporal clearly has his reservations about it.

"That spread fast." Nelson chortles before noticing Trevor's displeasure.

"Oh come on Corporal! You know how these things go. The propaganda muppets need something or someone to inspire the disenfranchised. And your story is perfect! Who else could ever think that one, singular soldier accompanied by two Militia's could pull off what you pulled off? You people are heroes!" he orates beautifully and exorbitantly, as if he himself could be one of the propaganda guys.

Trevor sighs.

"I know that Nelson. I'm only concerned with what is told. We are no superheroes. We are not here to be worshipped."

"That, I understand perfectly well. The prop-bints wanted to go in that direction, but the Captain smacked them on the fingers for that. It needed to be more realistic. But I'm fairly sure that if we say that you mowed down hundreds upon hundreds of those things, no one would be lying now, would we?"

Trevor and Patches look at each other and both are satisfied with this portrayal. Which means that she was right and he was not. Although he does not like it, he admits defeat. Which Patches will likely cherish for a long time.

"All good?" checks Nelson.

"Yeah. We good." confirms Trevor.

"Wonderful. Then we can continue with your report. Now, of course the prop-dicks have no clue what happened down there. Only what they heard. And they do tend to color outside the lines just a bit. So, for total transparency: how were the battles itself? In particular the one after this poor Felix fellow had perished."

"Tough." Trevor chimes instantly.

"Ferocious." adds Patches.

"Quite explosive too."

The two go back and forth over the battle. Starting with small descriptions and then expanding into more detail. Like how there was this massive electronic device that threw up a wall of electricity that would fry any bug. Setting up the defenses was another fun one. Just the three of them with three sentry guns, a ton of explosives and enough ammo to replace every particle in the air with lead. Or how a perfect toss of his superheated slug melted an Aparoid shaped like a gelatinous pudding volcano. Even the finishing touch with the flamethrower Trevor used to vaporize the remains and push them back into the tunnel.

"So that's why the tunnel was caked in ash and burn marks. Good grief! You went ham down there didn't you?" Nelson brings up while looking at the pictures taken by the checkpoint team that has settled down at the station now.

"No wonder you two look like you came straight out of a waste disposal plant. Just three people held out against a horde. Nothing short of impressive."

"Don't give us all the credit." Trevor counters, leaning back and folding his arms.

"Without your drop, we wouldn't be here."

"Yeah! I don't know how you managed it, but that massive stack of weapons really saved us down there." adds Patches sincere.

Nelson bows his head like a performer thanks their audience after a show.

"No problem, it is what I do. I just happen to be fabulous at it." he says in such a self ego stroking way, it is almost adorable.

Especially when he leans back and puts his feet on the table and stops writing in the report all together. His eyes dart from Trevor to Patches and back again. His smile goes from satisfied to full-on joy the longer he observes them.

"I like you two. Very unconventional in terms of a military unit but you like… finish each other's sentences and compliment each other well. If I didn't know any better, I would almost suggest you were brother and sister."

"+1 will do for now." giggles Patches, to which he responds with pointing at her and stating that a nickname like that is another example of that.

"But thank you regardless. And you aren't too bad yourself Nelson."

The shrew takes the compliment well, showing him off somewhat like a model on the catwalk.

"Am I everything you hoped for?" he asks, not at all fishing for more compliments.

"Everything and more." Trevor obliges.

Taking a deep, self-satisfied breath, he takes his feet back off the table and sits back up right.

"Pampering should not work on me. I should be immune to that. Luckily, I am not! So if you have more, don't hold them back. But for now, this concludes your after action report. The Captain was keen to know how you, Corporal Trevor, performed in the line of duty. Alone, cut off from your unit and partner. And now I have a sizable and positive portrayal of this. Waiting only for the reports coming from the refugee camps. Everyone that was evacuated from that station will be interviewed. And that will conclude the core of this "Metro Society" chapter."

Nelson collects all the papers, stacks them neatly back into the folder they came from, seals it and pushes it to the side of the table. Out of his direct field of view and so that he has room for his elbows to rest on the table.

"It is up to the Captain how he treats this report before the prop-douches get a hold of it afterwards. That might take some time though, so he is what I suggest…"

He reaches into his jacket pocket and tosses four silver colored coins on the table in front of the pair. Judging by the noise they make as they hit the table's surface, they are made from a cheap yet sturdy plastic.

"... is a shower. Those are shower coins. Every soldier here in camp gets two every so often. One coin allows access into the showers and the other can be used for a locker you can stash your clothing in. We do not have clothing washing facilities yet, but then again the mud will not allow anything to stay spotless forever."

"What are you trying to suggest here, Nelson? That me and Patches over here stink?" Trevor asks, obviously feigning being insulted.

"Not suggesting; telling! Now, stop delaying. You two are stinking up the place." Nelson chuckles while dramatically waving them away.

So the pair finish their drinks and take their leave.

"Oh!' he then calls out after almost forgetting about it.

"Before you go, once you are done cleansing yourselves, you are allowed to come back here. We don't want anyone wandering aimlessly around here."

"Psh! Already putting a leash on us?"

"Don't test me, hot stuff." Nelson tells Trevor rather suggestively while flicking with the pen.

"Maybe you are the one needing a leash." Patches suggest, thinking herself clever.

That is until Nelson growls suggestively at her, causing all three of them to fall into laughter after a moment of awkward silence.

"You two are a bundle of fun!" Nelson states after recovering from his laughing fit.

"Phew! Glad I got assigned to you. Now, do please leave. You are really, actually stinking up the place. See you in a little bit, yeah?"

- Cleansing

The location of the showers was shouted at them from the office they just left. After one of them forgot to close the door. And in case they got lost, just look at a signpost or tug on someone's sleeve for directions. The trapdoor opens for them and they are back in the public bathroom.

Following the directions given, they soon arrive at the shower block. A sign with messily painted letters says so. And judging from the puffs of steam coming from underneath holes in the roofing of the building, the water is warm. Both are itching for some cleanliness so they waste no time getting into the building.

The showers seem to work on a mixed sex basis. Whatever apparatus one might have in between their legs, matters not. Each shower is sectioned off. The most anyone would see is someone's feet. Or, if they are on the taller side, perhaps their eyes or hair.

There is however modesty enforced; have at least underwear on until you are in your own "cubicle". In other words, underwear for everyone. And for those that have breasts, a bra is necessary too. Much to the dislike of the ogling eyes probably.

The lockers are in a separate room. With some wooden benches around and a coat rack mounted to the wall. They are less busy than the showers themselves and most of those soldiers keep to themselves, barely looking up from their conversations, checking their phones or reading when the pair enters.

The coin is put in and the locker can be opened. It is surprisingly tall and long, but not very wide. At least it fits the radio snugly.

After putting their stuff inside a locker, they notice that inside each locker are three towels and some basic soap and shampoo. Like a bar of off-brand soap and an indistinct plastic bottle of shampoo that had its sticker rips off. But in situations like this, as long as it cleans properly, it will do. If it causes a nice smell too, even better.

Trevor smirks, knowing that somewhere some conservative politician is going crazy at this notion. "Free hygiene products for our soldiers? What is this socialist, communist nonsense?!" With the thought that one of those parasites might be getting an aneurysm from this, Trevor takes his provided free stuff, undresses himself down to his bare undergarments and closes the locker. The coin puts out the bottom of the mechanism like he just won a prize. To be used later when he needs his stuff again.

He lets Patches know that he is going to pick out a shower cubicle. She replies by saying she will be over in a bit as she is in the middle of undressing. Trevor thinks about waiting until she is all done but to avoid looking like a creep, takes his leave. And after a while he finds an empty cubicle that does not look like someone shed all their fur into.

His second coin is put into the slot and the shower is turned on. Pleasant, hot water hits him. A chill runs across his spine but it is comfort settling back in after being gone for so long. A massive difference from the bowl of lukewarm water he used back in the common room. It was refreshing but not exactly cleaning very well. This is so much better. He feels the dirt drip off and especially when he applies soap does it just evaporate. The water at his feet begins to brown from it. With some accents of purple and red in there; from the tons of Aparoid's he has put down and his own cuts and bruises. Chunkier parts fall out once he shampoos his head. And somehow there was even something stuck in his ear somehow.

Now that the cleansing part is done, he simply enjoys the warm water and has some time to relax. There was no limit specified on how long one is allowed to use the shower and as long as no one is enforcing it, he will use as much as he can.

As he is relaxing, various things go through in his head. Most prominently that he made it. He is out of that Metro Society nonsense. The only physical thing he has left from it, is his bottle. The rest is all memories. With the obvious exception of Patches, but she is not a thing or memory. She is a friend and his +1. On a similar level as a partner but given how that "title" is already taken, +1 has to do. And that according to Nelson, she is in some way like a sister to him. Interesting.

The more he thinks about his female companion, his thoughts begin to drift to that partner of his. Kip Starnova. Even though it has not been that long since, it felt like ages since he last saw her. So much has happened between now and then. He was fighting in a subway and she was liberating the south. Seperated by distance and no option for communication. And perhaps the most burdening was that he thought she had died.

"Stupid nightmare…" he mutters, recalling fragments from that forsaken vision that give him a chill.

Thankfully, she was confirmed to be alive and is probably walking around here somewhere. He cannot wait to meet her out there. Tell her all about the enemies he fought, introducing Patches to her and hearing how she kicked ass herself out there too. It would be nice catching up with her too. Maybe she might even come along on his next mission. One can only dream.

Speaking of a dream, another important female in his life takes priority in his thoughts. Someone he has not seen in so long. Was it a month? Or maybe even longer than that? He wishes that he was already with her. If only those goddamn Aparoids could keep their grubby little claws to themselves, he would be. Slouching on the couch watching terrible television shows. Having pizza and earning his nickname of lazy-bones. Depending on how she would say it, it was either a playful tease or she was mad at him for something.

After all, slouching around was not her forté; she is an outgoing person. Loves being in the forest, playing at survival. And practicing various forms of fighting styles. But at the same time she is very averse to violence. She would not hurt a fly, even if it annoyed her to bits. With the possible exception of a cockroach. Those things are straight up nasty.

Thinking about her makes him both happy and sad at the same time. A weird mixture that fills him up inside. He cannot wait to see her but at the same time will she be alive when he sees her?

"No!" he mumbles to himself, slamming the palm of his hand against the wall.

Which unfortunately happens to be the hand that he burned on that slug. So that adds actual pain to his discontented and doomy thoughts. Injury to insult. Brilliant.

But before he can sink deeper into disdain, he hears a familiar voice call for him. Just loud enough to drown out the present noise. It is Patches, asking where he is so she may join a cubicle close to him. Preferably next to, so they can chat and be convivial.

He awakens from his damper and sticks out his hand above the cubicle. And Patches confirms she sees it. The one to his right seems unoccupied so she quickly goes to occupy it. As fast as the slippery floor will allow without slipping and falling, thereby making quite the mockery of yourself.

Trevor hears the door close next to him and then gets locked. Not long after, she turns her shower on too. And the water at her feet starts to brown as well, which disgusts and surprises her quite a bit. As she comments on the amount of dirt that has collected on her, Trevor cannot help but chuckle.

"You doing alright there, dust bunny?" he teases.

"I reckon you are no longer like a vagabond then?" she throws shade right back.

"Touché, touché. I was displeased at my hygiene standards too. But I'm all clean now so I'm just enjoying the warm water now."

"Feels so well deserved too!"

"Agreed, Patch. We went through hell and this is our reward."

"So satisfying. Damn, I can't remember ever feeling so clean as I do right now. I was so sticky, yuck!"

He hears her gargle some water before spitting it out. Might have had a bad taste in her mouth or something. Or some leftover dirt got in there.

"Good thing we were not alone." Trevor continues.

"Peter being an absolute monster with that machine gun. And a guardian angel on the radio."

"Very true. What did you think of our little angel?"

"Who? Nelson? I'd say… flamboyant, peculiar. Straight to the point and yet beating around the bush so much it puts my theatrics to shame."

Patches starts laughing.

"And he's quite the flirt, isn't he?"

"Yeah, pretty raunchy at it too." Patches adds.

"But it is at least within reason. I bet if we were getting uncomfortable, he would adjust."

"Agreed. I did notice something though when he was writing. At one point, he stopped in the middle of it. Just for a few moments, completely frozen in time. I believe it was when you jabbed me in the arm." Trevor remembers.

"Do you think he stopped because of that? He might have been thinking about something or how to word something. I have that too."

"This was different. Like he said: "Very unconventional in terms of a military unit". You essentially jabbed your superior officer and did not get punished for it. Even with your status as a Militia, the least I should have done is verbally tell you to cut that out."

Patches puffs exasperated.

"Lemme guess. Military traditions and lick the boot of your superior type of deal?"

"I would settle for just saluting their rank, not necessarily the person."

"But we aren't like that. Is that a bad thing then?"

Trevor shrugs but then vehemently denies it is a bad thing.

"I think it is rather refreshing, what we do. You respect the rank and the person. I believe at least. So I respect you right back for the person that you are. As I don't see you as just my "subordinate". You're my… you know. Pal. +1."

"Are you getting flustered?"

He vehemently denies that as well.

"You are! Well… I am a little too. Stars, now I feel sticky again. Screw you Corporal, blegh!"

All in good natured humor of course. The water around her feet clears up and soon she is also enjoying the warm water for what it is. A relaxing force in a world so set on tearing itself apart. A seemingly infinite purple horde hellbent on the total assimilation of all that is organic and mechanical. Controlled by hivemind, knowing no mercy or compassion. And therefore, missing something as heavenly, steamy and peaceful as this. A cleansing moment for both body and soul…

- Partners

Only five minutes have passed after he left the showers and he is already missing it. Having to get back into his dirty clothing feels weird and oddly clammy. As if he just jumped out of the shower and ended up straight into the mud. Which is not that far from the truth if he looks ahead of him. On top of that, Solar has decided to hide behind the clouds and it has started to drizzle. A natural shower perhaps but this one is cold and therefore not as pleasant.

With his hands in his pockets and his head withdrawn like a turtle as much as possible, he waits for Patches to finish up putting her stuff back on. And after that, maybe get some rest. The Captain is likely to take ages reading through that file, knowing how he treats those things. With the utmost precision and diligence. Quite a remarkable attitude but at the same time it can be quite bothersome.

He does not have to ponder on this for long as Patches emerges from the building, feeling similar about having to put on her old get-up. Especially when she compares it to what everyone is wearing… she is stunned no one bothered to notice. Or at least say something. And then the drizzle hits her and any good mood she had left, is now getting slowly drenched. On top of that, the muddy situation is likely to get worse now. The road to the shower was relatively easy to traverse before without relying on Trevor, but now she would require his taxiing skills.

Luckily, he seems to have thought the same thing. With no clipboard guy to use a pack mule for this radio, he improvises and decides to carry it on his chest. A bit more awkward and he has to watch out not poke out his eye with the antenna, but it will do. Once he is ready, Patches all too eagerly jumps at the opportunity and away they go.

Back to Nelson, as instructed. Although Patches has a case of the munchies and Trevor is secretly looking for a shallow hole or some kind of dry place to rest his head. Just for a minute or two. Maybe five. Ten. 30. As they attempt to come to a compromise, they do not realize that they have strayed off the path leading back to the toilet block. When realization finally kicks in, they are lost.

"Great." mumbles Trevor as he looks around but is still walking ahead.

"Do you see a sign post somewhere, Patch? You got the high ground."

She tries her best but comes back with nothing. But she also reasons that eventually all those halls and trenches must end up somewhere central. There are sure to be signs there that will help. Trevor agrees to that and then picks up the pace again.

But after passing a corner, he suddenly stops dead in his tracks. Slightly alarmed by this, Patches looks up at what he sees. However she cannot see why a bunch of marching soldiers would make him stop. Is it someone he recognizes that is organizing the march? Someone she cannot see through the multitude of heads and movement.

But when the mob thins out, she sees the potential cause for Trevor's freeze. From what little description she has gotten from him when he had that nightmare, she can definitely pick her out. And it does help that she is the only kangaroo in the immediate surrounding area. Sparing him potential shame that the sight of him allowing her a piggyback ride could generate, she gets off herself.

"You okay?" he asks suddenly, having broken out of his trance.

"Just saving your reputation." she winks back while she points at the obvious.

"She is not that judgemental." Trevor counters while putting his radio back on the correct way.

But that is not what Patches is gunning for exactly. Sure, it is very unlikely the 'roo will laugh at him for it. Considering their history. However, it would be nice to her if a small little detail like that can remain a secret between the two of them. Just so she has something special with him, as a +1 and not as a "partner".

"What was her name again?"

"Kip. Kip Starnova."

Trevor starts to smile as he observes her running the parade like a professional conductor guiding a massive opera to a perfect night and a standing ovation. Aside from not leaning against a wall, she can see a parallel to how she was looking at him back in the common room. When he was busy with Quinn.

It makes her a tad jealous at first but rational thought comes back quickly. She is sure that when she does not notice it herself, he might be doing the same thing. Then her rational thoughts turn ever so slightly skewed and then mischievous. She waits for the right moment and then goes for it.

"Hey Kip!" she shouts at the top of her lungs.

And when the first time fails to catch any attention, she does it again. Trevor is stunned and is already too late in trying to stop her. Not that he was going to tackle her or something but maybe sternly tell her to can it. But the attention has already been caught.

Just like that, the kangaroo turns around and their eyes lock. From confusion, to amazement and then to disbelief. The positive type, where one cannot believe their eyes. Only communicated with said eyes. And it feels so real. Nothing like that awful nightmare, where she was not real and instead made from some amorphous goo. Infected by Aparoids on top of that. And now she is really here. The distance matters not; recognition is instant.

"Trevor?" she mumbles at first before calling it out, still stuck in disbelief.

He does not respond, instead he starts walking towards her. The walking turns into speed walking, which quickly turns to running. He stops only when he is but a meter or so removed from her. In reality, he wanted to continue and scoop her up in a hug, he missed her that much. But he figured he would test the waters first.

"Trevor, it is really you, isn't it?" she checks again.

"I know. Disappointing right?" he jests.

"No. Not at all." Kip counters with a smile and a twinkle in her eye, smashing his attempt at light self-deprecating humor.

Now Trevor can no longer hold back and envelops her in his arms. And she is not shy to return the favor. It has felt like years since he had seen her. Even if it was maybe two days ago at least. And yet, it felt like an eternity had passed. Like he was stuck in a weird limbo between the moment they found that Aparoid nest and the moment the cave-in started. Seconds turned to weeks and soon enough it felt like ancient history.

For Kip it is the same. The last touch she had felt from him was when he pushed her away all the sudden. She thought she had aggravated him in a way until a massive block of ceiling narrowly missed her and smashed itself into the ground before her. He had just saved her life and that was also the last time she would see him. He screamed something after that but she could not hear it. And now here he is.

"I missed you. So glad you are alive and well." Trevor whispers to her, on the cusp of weeping joyously.

"Same here. But did you think I was gonna go down without taking all those dirty bugs with me?"

"Point taken." he chuckles as the hug breaks up several moments later.

"Geez, it is so good to see you! Alive too! How've you been? Just… you know in general?"

"Steady there Trevor, you're rambling. I do believe you did not call out to me. Unless you have a hidden talent for imitating a woman's voice, I have to assume it came from the lady next to you."

He then realizes that Patches is standing to his left and is a little embarrassed that he failed to notice. And ever the quick-thinking gentleman, he decides to introduce the two.

"Kip. May I introduce you to the only and the best person I could take along for the ride from that subway hellhole; Militia as an acting Private First Class Ashley Hare. And no, no relation to however you are thinking of. Or simply known as Patches." he presents her in quite the detailed fashion.

Patches reaches her hand out to her.

"And in turn; Patch, meet my long lost partner. Kip Starnova. A mercenary type that was presumably attracted to the bounty our higher-ups tossed out to provide more meat for the grinder. We found each other decent enough company to stick together long enough."

Kip in turn reaches her own hand out as well and shakes the rabbit's.

"Pleasure to meet you, Patches. Heard a few things about you already. Solid pick from our foxy friend over here."

"Likewise. Trevor was not wrong in picking you either it seems. You should've known how many times he mentioned you in a positive light." she reveals.

"Really now? I must have made a good impression on him."

She looks at Trevor and starts chuckling at his expression.

"Are we embarrassing you a little?"

Trevor tries his best to hide it, but them gossiping about him like that is getting to him. He is very glad that early impressions are positive, but the last thing he needs is a two-against-one scenario.

"He was always a bit susceptible to social pressure anyway." she in turn reveals to Patches before she invites the pair to have a sit down with her, so they can share stories.

Before they can do that though, she has to arrange that someone takes it over from her. Enough volunteers present themselves so she picks one randomly real quick so she can focus on something a little bit more important. She fetches some crates to sit down on and some leftover furniture that is still usable as a table.

To make it more pleasant, she takes a flask out of her pocket and gives it out to share. Claiming there is some hard liquor in there that will cleans your sinuses in one swig and clears your head in a finger snap.

Trevor needs no introduction to it; the illustrious "Snap Forget". In case you need a moment of nothing. What is inside is a secret. Mainly because no one knows the recipe exactly. As long as it contains enough alcohol to down an elephant and tastes like antifreeze, it is perfect. He therefore takes the flask and takes a shot.

Already feeling it burn up his throat, he hands it to Patches while doing his best to suppress a coughing fit coming up. Seeing him have some trouble with it and her not being used to hard liquor, she is doubting actually taking it. But with some stimulation from Kip using only facial expressions and mouthing encouraging words, she decides to take the plunge and she gets a swig of it down.

The burn is instant and so is the coughing, which Trevor has succumbed to as well. Both their eyes begin to tear as the flask is handed back. Soon Kip joins them in this session of pain they chose to inflict upon themselves. But it is a pain that is somehow fun to endure, giving someone metaphorical hair on the chest.

With the imbibing now done, they turn to telling their stories. With Trevor and Patch already having told their story before to Nelson, it feels only fair to have Kip tell hers first. She is still a little taken aback from the cocktail, so she takes a moment while her throat starts to calm down.

"After Trevor saved my life, I had to find a way out. And being stuck in a tunnel, there was only one way out. Luckily, I wasn't alone. The engineers were still with me. Although that was also a curse in disguise, because they started blaming each other for the debacle."

"I can only imagine why." Trevor chuckles.

It was not the worst that happened. Further down the tunnel, they were ambushed. Straggler Aparoids that were seemingly part of the nest… which they had blown up before. Two of the engineers were wounded and ammunition was running low. Things looked dire but the fighting was still going strong above and it took its toll on the infrastructure. Almost mirroring what happened to their jeep before, an autonomous, tracked and armored vehicle sank through the roof. And it wasted no time in extinguishing the lives of the remaining bugs.

"We got a free ride out of there and were soon able to rejoin the tail end of the column. And after that, we reached this little bit of paradise on Corneria. There was no time for settlin' in; trenches had to be dug and weapons needed to be set up while indirect fire was trained at whatever came at us." she continues.

"It seems it was enough for you to survive. And thrive too." Patches compliments as she looks around.

"Survive is the right word. The Aparoids decided to unleash a buttload of jammers. Any communication was either blocked or came in garbled. Hence why we made that massive antenna at the old toilet block to try and break through."

"Which you succeeded at very well." Trevor states, only to notice she is clearly having a strained right arm.

When he checks in on her, she blows it off as nothing special and yet hides the bottom part of her forearm. Just some muscle ache from blowing apart so many Aparoids. The recoil can be harsh. But Trevor is not believing any of it. And Patches can clearly see something is off too. Knowing what it is like to hide away her wounds, she gives encouragement to Kip this time.

Kip ponders it for a while but then goes ahead and shows it. The underside of her forearm looks like a mess. Two big bruises and various cuts of different depths and lengths. She tells them that an explosion knocked her off her post and she fell into the trench. Although the mud was soft enough to catch her fall, some panicking douchebags did not look where they were walking and stampeded over her. She is quite glad they only managed to step on her arm but it hurts like hell.

"But it was in the middle of the battle. I couldn't leave my post. I had to fight on. So I did. And we won." she proclaims with a half-smile.

"Been to the medic after then?"

"Have you seen the state of the medical tent there? I tried but it's like the Dark Ages in there. I doubt some of the tools are even sterilized."

"Well, I think Trevor can help you a lot better than. He did the same for me." Patches chimes as the points to the bandage under her eye.

Kip appreciates the gesture but she is going to need more than just a bandage for this. But then Patches tells her about the black eye she had. How Trevor lended his medical skills to her recovery. Within a day, her bruise and headache were gone. And while Kip is wondering why she had a black eye in the first place, she is more open to being treated.

Trevor goes into full doctor mode, just like back in that storeroom. But he does not have to woo her attention or trust with his funny glasses and share in her hatred for the Sheriff.

The magic radio backpack with the infinite compartments is opened and two blue cooling packs still in the wrapper are pulled out. He squats down in front of her and starts the treatment. One by one, they are placed on the bruises and then wrapped tight with gauze. For this next procedure, he does require those glasses. If only because it can help him focus on the smaller things. Those cuts still have fragments and dirt in them.

"We don't want you getting infected. If anything, getting infected because of normal bacteria is rather pathetic if you can get infected with Aparoid bacteria eh?" Trevor teases.

And while Patches is ready to give him a slap across the back of his head for that, Kip just laughs at it.

"You know it, Corporal. Hence why I'm still standing. They haven't touched me at all. Mowed them all down." she boasts.

In the meantime, Trevor washes his hands in disinfectant and then starts with applying the same disinfectant on her wounds.

"Grrr…! Too bad I couldn't… ow! Save any for you, Trevor." she apologizes while trying not to scream when the cleansing agent touches her bare flesh.

Trevor then grabs a pre-wrapped tweezer. The package is tossed aside for a while and he starts picking out the bits and pieces.

"I know you… ack! Wanted me to."

But for Trevor that matters little. He has kind of broken his promise to her too. But when he tells her this, she is confused.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, only to remember those radio messages.

"Well, in that case…" she relativizes, slightly cheeky before groaning in pain as Trevor pokes something sensitive.

"Ouch! You did that one on purpose! Prick!"

She can hear Trevor chuckling before the final bit is pulled out and tossed away. Satisfied with the result, he puts the tweezers away and fetches some wound cream. The wounds are thankfully not deep so this will do. Using a q-tip, he applies a thick layer of it on each before putting a bandage on each of them. He offers some pain medication but Kip declines. This will do. And the effect is felt fairly quickly.

"Wow. Good job Trevor! You should be in charge of all medical duties." she says impressed.

"Oh no. I'm not qualified. And I am incapable of providing treatment any better than this." he answers, ever the humble one.

"Treatment like this is what is going to keep people alive more." Kip assures him while he puts everything back in his backpack and returns to his seat.

"Just glad to help. However, speaking off in charge, how come we saw you delegating a march? No offense, but you are a merc."

"Oh that? Didn't you hear? I have an ear with the Captain himself. Nothing romantic, I can just be very persuasive."

Her tone is boasting and rather secretive.

"Can you teach me?" asks Patches as she covertly points at Trevor, hinting that she might want some ways of convincing him in the future.

"Maybe later." Kip winks back.

"But yeah, I've been put in somewhat of a leadership role with the 55th. They wouldn't give that role to a Militia/mercenary like me though; so I've been designated as a "combat advisor". Which means I can advise and still hold a gun."

"Translation; advice means ordering." Trevor whispers to Patches.

"Hence why I have people listen to me, even if I'm just a merc. And I find it quite pleasant here. The boys and girls of the 55th have taken a liking to me and me to them. Not all of them though, some are hardliners." she puffs.

"I know something against that; a kickstart." Patches suggests, lightly stomping her foot on the ground.

"I see Trevor taught you well." the 'roo compliments.

"So good so far. Made me Militia for a reason."

"Do I sense pride there? Judging from your blue uniform, you were not a soldier before. Nor a merc. Can I guess… cop?"

"10 points! Trevor, she is catching up with you in points."

"Didn't realize we were still playing. Plus, that was a dead give away. 10 points for that?!"

"Still bad at losing?" Kip chuckles before she turns back to the rabbit.

"So what made you quit the force? I heard a few bits and pieces."

"Short version? Abuse. Hence that uh… black… eye." Patches admits painfully

And Kip responds in a similar vein as Trevor did when she told him the same. Appreciative about this, she does tell her that the Sheriff who orchestrated all of this is now in cuffs with the so-called blue helmets. Hearing that, pleases Kip quite a bit. And she wants to know more.

"Leave no details unturned. I want to hear every little despicable thing about him. Especially how he ended up in cuffs." Kip requests while rubbing her hand in glee.

And Patches is eager to delight her. Even the more negative sides are told with relative ease, due to the outcome being fantastic. Trevor is mentioned a few times here and there. The rest is mostly reserved for thrash talking that old fool. Everything that had, who he loved, everything he stood for and wished to accomplish. And how all of that was thwarted by their teamwork, despite his best efforts to keep her down. As she is orating this at an anomering Kip, Trevor looks at her in that one way. Of course, she does not see that.

"In the end, I saw him off to your MP's. Cuffed and served up on a silver platter. Getting verbally assaulted by them all the way to their transport." she finishes her story with a good ending.

"Wow. Now I hope those MP's are now physically assaulting that bastard!" Kip responds.

"The only time I would be in favor of police violence." Trevor adds to that, repeating it once more.

"Now I understand that missing police badge of yours. Then again, that shoulder patch does look better on you."

"Thank you Kip! I like it too. Trevor said it was earned in blood."

"Now that I believe more than anything. You got some killer instincts there. Maybe a change of uniform and you'll be golden."

"You think so? I do actually like an outfit like this given that it accommodates my bosom. Maybe a more green-ish color? Or something with a camo-pattern?"

"Oh, definitely the camo-pattern. Just not whatever Trevor is wearing underneath his vest." Kip suddenly throws a sneaky amount of smoke at him.

"Since when are you Queen Fashion?" counters Trevor stunned after being verbally suckerpunched.

"Probably since she is not wearing a baby-blue Aloha pattern shirt." chuckles Patches, flanking him unexpectedly.

"Geez, et tu? Princess Trendy over here."

But there is no spite or hostility between the three. And soon enough the banter turns into laughter. Fun turns time itself relative and it becomes no longer a priority to check. The drizzle has stopped and Solar is back brightly bathing everyone in its warm shine. Some much needed vitamin D free of charge.

"Something is smiling down upon us." Patches believes, looking up at it.

"In before it's an Aparoid posing as a meteorite coming to ruin our day." Trevor sniggers.

"Nah, the fleet would take care of that. That along with…"

Kip groans in the middle of her sentence.

"Star Fox."

"Oh fantastic, are they really here? I thought I had a hallucination." Trevor complains.

"Wait, you saw them?"

"He claims to anyway." Patches states, putting quite the buzzkill on it.

"Not true! I saw Peppy fly by when I went to get more ammo outside. The old fart took away my shooting gallery and then flew away."

"Sounds unreasonable at first. But we later heard that General Pepper was saved by Peppy himself. The old hare used his own ship to catch Pepper's flagship and save him from certain death. Heh, silly fool." she says with a sense of quiet pride.

"So now he owes Star Fox his life too?" Trevor laments.

"Sadly, it seems so indeed." Kip continues with a sigh.

"The Captain is really pissed off at this too. Because the last thing the army needs is more integration with Star Fox. I mean, nothing's wrong with Peppy per se… but I mean; I'm a merc but those guys are posh, overpriced and overall annoying-ass Mary Sue's by even merc standards!"

"Ouch!" responds Patches, feeling the absolute revulsion behind those words.

"Indeed, Patches. But it seems the Captain has a plan. He wants to decontaminate all of Corneria City. From top to bottom. Hence why he's essentially picking up every single straggler and surviving group. Which includes you two… Nova 7." she whispers at the end.

Before Trevor can even ask how she knows, she reminds him about the ear she has with the Captain. And who else would come up with a name like that?

"Starnova… Nova 7… Clever. We owe you a thanks then. Oh and for those slugs too. I saw the little note."

"And thank you for your radio messages. A bit cheesy sometimes but showed your true character. Kept my spirits up for sure. At least it let me know you weren't dead."

"I wasn't planning on it, not unless I'll take my enemies with me." Trevor smirks.

"The way it should be." Kip answers before seeing something in the corner of her eye.

"But I think you guys are wanted somewhere else."

She points to her left and there is that same clipboard soldier from before running at them. Trevor rolls his eyes as their biggest fan is coming to pick them up again.

"Not a fan of him? Yeah, nobody really is. He's a bit of a suck-up." Kip sympathizes before she knows that their time together has unfortunately run out.

Trevor and Patches know this too and stand up with her to say their goodbyes. The runner comes close but has no chance to speak as Trevor holds out his hand in front of his face.

"We get the hint. Give us a moment will ya?"

The runner nods slightly stunned and takes a few steps back. In the meantime, Patches shakes Kip's hand one last time. It was a pleasure to meet Trevor's long lost partner and it would be nice to see her again. Perhaps they might even find themselves on the battlefield together. And Kip responds that she would not mind that at all.

Then Patches takes her leave as Trevor stays behind for a little longer. She understands why and does not bother asking him to come along. He will eventually.

"And then there were just the two of us." he says.

"Just like old times huh?"

"Yeah…"

The conversation dies down a little at this point. Into an awkward silence where even glances are avoided. It feels great to see each other again after what felt like centuries. But that also made it that now they have been operating on their own for a while and got their own thing going. Trevor is now part of "Nova 7" with someone else and Kip has her thing with the 55th. In a way, trying to tie an old partnership together feels somewhat forced.

"Listen Kip… I know you got your thing going with your unit here now. And I know you take your tasks very seriously. But… if like, at possible and I can arrange it, I wouldn't mind if you came along.." he tries breaking the ice while trying not to make this any more awkward before suddenly:

"Yes!" Kip instantly snaps back, to a point where even she is surprised at how fast she answered.

"... with me?" Trevor then finishes as his face already starts to light up.

"I mean… yes. Of course." she says more modestly after clearing her throat.

"I would love to rejoin you. We were a great team and I'm sure with someone extra with us, we'll practically scrub Corneria city clean together on our own. What did you call her again, your +1?" she chuckles.

"I had to come up with something, you already took the title of "partner". I can't have two partners, that's cheating." he replies, tongue firmly in cheek.

"No matter, I'm glad to be yours. Now, rejoin your rabbit friend. And let me know when I can dump these 55 chumps."

"You'll be the first person to hear. I promise."

"Careful with those promises, Trevor."

"Yeah yeah. Blah, blah. Come here you!"

The two reunited partners have one final hug and end it with an arm wrestle handshake while sharing determined gazes to each other. Quinn would be in awe at this reference.

"See you soon, 'roo."

"You better, foxy boy. Now, scram. I gotta drill these wimps into shape." she winks, to which Trevor gives her a proper salute and a wide smile before actually leaving.

When he gets back at Patches' side, he tells the clipboard chump to get a move on and lead the way. Trevor's glowing attitude and the big smile plastered on his face as tightly as the patch on her sleeve is, does not slip her mind.

"I take it that you enjoyed meeting up with her again?"

"Oh absolutely! As soon as I get the chance, she's coming with us." he states in full confidence.

"Really now? An extra team member does not require approval from those already present?"

"Would you deny her?" he double-checks as they pass the corner, detecting her mischievous tone.

"No of course not, you dummy! It would be great to have her with us. I would love to hear some more of her stories. The from-before-she-met-you type. However! Until then, now that we are no longer in her field of vision, I humbly request another ride on the Trevor train."

Trevor cannot help but laugh at her request. He tells the clipboard boy to be a pack mule once again and he does what he is told. After all, he is a Corporal and he is not. Once handed over, Trevor signals that he is ready for her ride by imitating a train horn. Amused, she jumps on and they go full steam ahead.

- Vapor

Back at the familiar building, the runner does not have to give a rundown; the guards know them by now. The soldier drops off the radio and speeds away like he did last time. Surprisingly, he kept his mouth shut and did not say a thing the entire trip. Almost like someone told him to do exactly that. And Nelson will be thanked for sure.

In person. Which is perfect, as they need to meet him anyway. The guards let them through and they enter that familiar hallway.

"Hey Frank!" Trevor calls out to the gunner behind the wall.

"Are the toilets here operational? I've been holding up since this morning."

"Yes they are, Corporal. And since this morning? Then go quickly then! I'm on cleanup duty too so keep it neat please." Frank answers with a pleading tone at the end.

The poor guy might have seen some shit… even literally speaking. So Trevor promises not to dirty it. But Patches is not going to wait as she too requires a pit stop. They agree to reconvene back in the hallway and they part ways.

As their cubicle doors lock behind them for the most privacy possible, unbeknownst to them Nelson enters the hallway. With a hanging and a seemingly very heavy head. He does not even greet Frank verbally, just an attempt at waving. Frank's inquiry into why Nelson is so moody gets no results as the trapdoor is opened after impatiently tapping at his phone's screen. Muttering something about someone being in essence very stupid, the door closes behind him. It leaves Frank speechless for a bit.

Soon enough, the bathroom needs of Nova 7 are satisfied and they meet back up in the hallway. After washing their hands of course.

"Frank, could you let us in?" Patches asks.

"Sure. But uh… guys. I have to warn you. Nelson just came by and he looked miserable. He was talking to himself about some being very F-ing stupid before he went downstairs." Frank shares a tad concerned.

"Nelson seems to be the type for drama." Trevor reasons unbothered.

"He is. But this is different. He was practically ripping his hair out. So be prepared for something." Frank advises as the trapdoor opens.

The pair enters a little unsure about what to think about what Frank said. He could be playing them like the bad host Nelson told them he was. But his sarcasm can easily be detected and this was nothing but serious.

"What do you think that was about?" Trevor thinks aloud.

"Only one way to find out." Patches replies, pointing at Nelson's office that has the door ajar.

The two approach the door and Trevor reaches out to grab the knob. Then out of nowhere, a cold shiver runs down his spine. As if his body is trying to tell him not to get in there. Against seemingly better judgment, he does so anyway.

Opening the door reveals Nelson sitting behind his desk. The desk itself is covered in rapports, both opened and closed. Nelson himself looks like he is on the verge of a mental breakdown. His head is hanging down, hands literally in his hair and his nails digging into his scalp. He is muttering colorful insults and has no idea that Trevor and Patches are seeing him like this. And it is not a pretty sight.

"Nelson?" Trevor calls out, concerned.

"Huh!?" utters Nelson after he is snapped out of his trance.

The heavy head shows as he tilts it back up slowly. Seeing the pair does not cheer him up very much, it just makes him annoyed at the situation. He wants to send them away but he knows that will not do. For one, they would not leave without explanation and two, that would be against direct orders.

"Trevor. Patch. Please, close the door and sit down." he asks with aversion to the idea.

The pair decides to do so and take their seats after the door is closed. Nelson takes a deep breath in order to bring this to them as clear as possible.

"Both of you, thank you for coming back. I'll try to be as quick as possible; rip the bandage off in one go. Do you want the somewhat good news first? Or the bad news?"

"I… uh…"

"Let's do the good news first." suggests Patches.

"It might dampen the effects of the bad news."

Nelson nods as it makes sense but he is sure it will not help much. But as Trevor agrees, he brings it to them. He grabs the right report and pulls out the dreaded documents inside.

"The Captain was impressed with your report. Seems he was waiting for it to land on his desk as he prioritized it over all the rest and was not disappointed. Aside from a few oddball points he would like to see gone but overall it was fine. Great even. So Nova 7 stays together as a unit in the current configuration." he states with a forced smile.

"Which means you stay in charge, Corporal. And Patches keeps her Militia status, with her acting rank acknowledged. What this means exactly for how your team will be used, will officially remain up in the air. In the meantime though, the Captain had a better idea. And this is where…"

He flips past the pages with the Captain's report and lands on the page with the conclusion and next order. He dreads telling them, maybe hoping that time will freeze. Or they might get distracted by the Aparoids attacking. But there is no miracle helping him out of this one.

"... is where the bad news starts?" Trevor finishes for him, breaking his attempt at remaining silent.

"Yes… yes it is."

Nelson swallows hard and then hardens his resolve so he can get through this quickly.

"I will not beat around the bush; I quote the Captain: "Upon receiving this report, this order is to be carried out immediately by the parties involved. I.E.:

- Private Nelson, acting Liaison Officer

- Nova 7, consisting of:

- Corporal Trevor DeLange

- Militia Ashley "Patches" Hare, acting Private First Class

Order 43-A under SCEI Operation PEST CONTROL is to be dictated as such:

Nova 7 is to become a vapor unit with immediate effect. Along with the units specified in 43-B, 43-C and 43-D. Nova 7 has proven themselves effective in surviving within enemy-held territory and holding their own against superior enemy numbers…" Blah Blah… etcetera etcetera." Nelson summarizes, not in the mood for more bureaucratic talk.

"In essence, Nova 7 will indeed become a vapor unit. Just after it was acknowledged to exist. This is only known to a few select individuals. That includes the Captain and you two. Officially. I know, of course. But I am to remain silent and deny your existence as an actual functioning unit." he laments, shaking his head at the total stupidity of this order.

And Trevor completely agrees. His confusion and concern is turning into bewilderment and dejection. Why would the Captain just tear them apart like that? On top of that, wants to make them ghosts? For what purpose? How is that going to make them more effective?

Patches joins Trevor in this feeling. Remembering what the definition of a vapor unit is, she is sure she did not sign up for this. Not that the Corporal could help this, he is being forced into this too. But she is having some second thoughts about that patch on her upper arm now.

"For what then?" Trevor asks, getting a headache from the disbelief.

Nelson can only sympathize and then lays down a map of Corneria City in front of Nova 7. Four points are encircled in red marker with arrows leading to them from where they are currently. All of them in the North.

"The Captain wants to retake Corneria City tomorrow. With the numbers he has, he will be able to roll over what is left with ease. But he needs intel for this. That Aparoid core you found, alongside a big one that Star Fox found, can literally reveal the position of every Aparoid anywhere in Lylat and beyond. Including the home world." explains Nelson, a little less negative.

"And those circles are the locations of those missing cores?"

"Sadly not, Corporal. We only know that they are somewhere in that area. But that intel is already getting old. They might have been moved. And the Aparoids now know that we are looking for them. Therefore, they will defend it tooth and nail. And we cannot afford many casualties."

"But sending in a small team will do it?" Patches questions, not understanding the logic behind it.

"As a surgical strike. A small team is less conspicuous and can sneak into the occupied areas easier, faster. And then also exfil better too." reasons Nelson.

"But there is a time limit. He wants those cores by tomorrow. What time?"

Nelson checks his watch.

"Right now it is 12:55. The offensive starts at 8:00 precisely. That means you have less than 20 hours before the Captain puts the hammer down."

"No pressure there…" Patches sighs.

"But that still leaves the idea of turning us into a vapor unit unanswered. Please tell me you have nothing to do with that, Nelson." Trevor checks exasperated.

Nelson scoffs insulted, leaning forward at the desk.

"Why do you think I was almost pulling my hair out? I like you guys! And turning you into vapor myself… is just killing me."

The shrew hangs his head again and then slams his fist on the table. Startling both Trevor and Patches.

"Fuck!" Nelson cries out unfiltered before falling back into this seat, holding his forehead and feeling an artery is about to burst.

"I don't want to do this. But I can't ignore the order given. The vapor part is for total secrecy. Should any rogue or enemy elements capture you, they will likely try and pry information from you. Nothing on you should be left identifiable. No references to the army, no ID cards, nothing with your own name on it or anything that can be used to identify you. Nothing may lead to us. All of it to be collected in a designated bucket."

Trevor's mouth is agape in astonishment hearing this. They are actually going through with this. Then he hears some commotion behind the door. Looking through those covered windows, he can see the silhouettes of two people. And they are armed.

"Is that the goon squad behind that door to ensure that we comply?" Trevor checks.

Nelson nods. He wished they were just here for some chit-chat but they are here to frisk Nova 7 the moment they leave. To make sure that anything identifiable is indeed gone. And to ensure that Nelson complies with the order given. It is in their best interest to comply.

From the corner of his eye, Trevor can see Patches get spooked by their presence. Her leg is twitching and she is shivering slightly. He puts a hand on her shoulder and she snaps to look at him.

"I'm here. We are here. It'll be fine, whatever they throw at us." he assures her, which does calm her down a little bit.

"I know it's tough. But there is more. Sadly." Nelson sighs as he goes through the list of things they are not allowed to take with them.

"Trevor's radio for one is to stay here. Its connection with the Aparoid core requires further examination. Secondly, it is heavy and cumbersome. Not ideal for a quick moving, light unit. Plus, the Aparoids have put additional jammers everywhere. Out of reach from our antenna system. So you will not have any contact with anyone anyway."

Nelson then looks away and tries not to look too emotional.

"...Not even me."

Trevor tries to counter but Nelson stops him in his tracks. All the vital supplies he needs will be put into a smaller backpack that should last them only 24 hours. And he is not allowed to choose what he brings with him; it will be decided according to protocol.

"In order to get you off the base properly, you will be given civilian identities that you are to toss away the moment you leave the base. You will be escorted off the base. A transport has been arranged to bring you to the northern region. From there on out, you'll be on your own." Nelson finishes.

"Only from there on out?" asks Trevor sarcastically, feeling in the mood to pull his own hair out now too.

"It sounds like we already are on our own. If we don't exist anymore from this point on." complains Patches, sharing Trevor's mood.

"Yeah, I get that. If there is any light in this darkness, it is your existence as actual people is guaranteed by this document. If the mission is successful, you'll get your lives back."

"And if not?"

"Then don't come back." Nelson replies necessarily cold.

"Simple as that?"

"Simple as that, Patch. Sorry."

Nelson shakes his head before he stands up. Then he grabs the designated bucket from the ground and puts it on the table. The bucket looks suspiciously like a trash can however.

"Please deposit all your belongings in here. The only things you are allowed to keep are your weapon or weapons. The ammunition already loaded or directly on you. Your current outfit with accessories. Unless this carries your name or references to the unit or the Army in general… in which case remove that portion by any means necessary. Patches and indications of rank are fine, those can be bought by civilians and can therefore be passed off as fakes. Anything that makes you doubt if it could be an identifiable object, that counts too."

Hearing this makes Trevor sick to his stomach. His feet and butt feel glued to the floor and seat respectively. He cannot believe that this is actually happening. He feels betrayed, angry and powerless. Not necessarily at Nelson for he is just the messenger. But the Captain is a whole different story. He realizes that he and himself are not exactly on the same level but this is some straight abuse of power. Does he want him gone? Just like the Sheriff did by stuffing him into the basement and go solve all of our problems? But this time, not even as himself. As a ghost, a nobody.

This time Patches is the one to give him some support. Just like after that battle. Her facial expression says it all. She hates it as much as he does but also knows that if this is how life is going to treat them, they might as well kick its ass for daring to do so. Encouraged, the both of them stand up and with sternness dripping from their face, they start to remove anything that could tell anyone who they are.

ID-cards. Bank cards. Insurance cards. Their phones. Photos from their wallets. Driver's licenses. Name tags. Some old receipts from that one time one of them went and got some groceries. A ripped piece of paper that spelled out her phone number she did not give to some guy she fancied in a bar. Too nervous.

All of these fall and clatter into the bottom of the barrel. There is no emotion on their faces, just going through the motions. Only one moment where Patches is hesitant about is throwing her wallet in there. For Trevor, this is when he attempts to throw the Queen of Hearts he got from Peter in there but Nelson stops him from doing so. A playing card is perfectly fine. Sarcastically, Trevor thanks the "almighty order" for allowing him to keep this at least.

Once they are effectively stripped of anything that could tell anyone who they are, do they sit back down. Nelson takes the bucket and places it back on the ground. Then he collects all of the files and puts them back in the rapport. It is sealed and put on top of the bucket. Then Nelson puts his hands together and sarcastically congratulates them on their new role as a vapor unit.

"From now on, you are no longer a Corporal, Trevor. You are not even Trevor anymore. You do get to pick your new name though. It is recommended to have something like Patches has. Akin to a nickname I mean."

Trevor does not have to think long.

"Bones. After a pet name my girlfriend gave me." he states confidently, while at the same time testing to see if the Captain thought of that one.

Because she lives up North as well. But of course he thought about that too.

"Your primary and therefore only objective is to secure that Aparoid core. Should you have it and you see an opportunity to evacuate or otherwise help out civilians, which includes your girlfriend, then you are allowed to. Just make sure you come back alive then, otherwise we will have to arrange some less than… legal things." Nelson swallows hard and therefore gives away that this operation will kill people to protect its secrecy, no matter the connections.

"Sadly, that includes Kip and I as well." Nelson then brings up.

"She will be told to keep quiet about this too. Just like they told me. She seems smart so she'll do that. Wouldn't worry about her or me. Worry about yourselves out there." he wishes them with a wry smile.

"One last question before we go; this is the Captain's plan, I get that. But is this plan also something that the high-brass agrees with?" Trevor checks, knowing that those higher-ups are risk-averse beyond reason.

Unfortunately Nelson nods that they do. It is an extraordinary situation. And given that Pepper is out of commission for the moment, more voted in favor than against this time. "Careful recklessness" it was called and it seems to have worked.

Trevor believes it. The shrew would not lie about this, after having come clean about how he feels about this complete dumpster fire of an idea.

"If that was it, then I must ask you to step outside my office and follow the instructions given. Your personal belongings will be stored here for the time being. Safest place on the base. Remember, you are no longer yourselves. You aren't even Nova 7 anymore. But regardless, do be careful out there. I don't want you guys getting killed out there."

Trevor stands up and reaches out his hand. After a moment of doubt, Nelson shakes it.

"Thank you Nelson. We'll do our best. And we know this is not personal." Trevor assures, while restraining himself hard so he does not break the shrew's hand in frustration.

"If I could stop it Trevor I would have, please believe me!"

Trevor signals him to keep his voice down.

"We do. Right Patch?"

She nods.

"We'll be back. After all, you got our stuff. And we like our stuff, don't we Patch?"

"Yes we do, Sir." she replies as she stands by his side.

Trevor has moved one hand to his hip where his holster is. The atmosphere is tense and unfriendly. Completely understandable considering the circumstances but this does not mean that Nelson is not starting to sweat now. Trevor lets go of his hand however and therefore the threat is gone. Without saying another word, they turn around and exit the office. To be greeted by two soldiers, one male and one female. They are quite heavily armed. Seemingly the newly vaporized individuals are considered a threat.

Trevor cracks a joke with them that Nelson cannot hear but is quite funny considering the two guards start laughing. As the male pads Trevor down, the female does Patches. At least that takes away from tension when it comes to false sexual accusations. Been there, done that. Never again.

Once it is confirmed that they are fully unrecognizable, they are given name tags, a large overcoat each and a baseball cap. To cover anything recognizable for anyone on the base. They are to cast those disguises away as well once off the base.

The male soldier signals to Nelson that all is good. Then Nelson calls Frank to let the guests out. After Frank replies that he is surprised he is letting them out of the dungeon voluntarily, the trapdoor is unlocked and the vapor unit is led out.

The sounds of the trapdoor closing means that they are truly gone. Nelson sighs deep, knowing what has to happen now. The female soldier had stayed behind and now enters his office. He picks up the bucket from the floor and hands it to the female soldier.

"You know what to do with this." Nelson says with disgust at his own actions.

The soldier accepts it and takes it out. Nelson then falls down into his chair, sighing once again. This is and was something he never expected to do. Having to tell two people he actually likes from the moment he saw them that they no longer exist, leaves some sick in his mouth. He shivered at the idea and is subconsciously still doing it. Just barely visible. He sits there, broken and feeling nauseous.

For minutes, maybe even longer, he is staring at the ceiling. A sense of rotting guilt is overwhelming his senses. He craves one of those cocktails he heard some soldiers talk about to subdue that feeling.

But he is not done yet and he knows it. He reaches down to the floor again and picks up the rapport. The dossier that contains the last traces of Nova 7's existence and his connection to them. And it is to be destroyed according to the Captain's personal order. This document can never see the light of day again.

He gets up and walks over to the paper shredder. He ignores Frank, who is calling to inform them that someone is coming in but Nelson cannot hear it clearly. Must be the male guard returning from dropping off the former Nova 7. The dossier's seal is ripped open and paper by paper disappears into the shredder.

With a tremendous amount of noise and violence, his office door is suddenly flung open. It was not locked but given the mood of the person coming through it would not have mattered much. The person looks to his left and spots Nelson following the order to get rid of the evidence. Two brown eyes ignite to glare at him. Then, a blue-feathered hand points at him.

"How about we don't do that?"

- Tea Time

Rain would be apt for this moment. Dressed as two hoodlums, wearing caps and an oversized coat that reminds one of what hooded monks would dress as. Sitting underneath a mesh net, confined to a few square meters of leg room and breathing space. But Solar is not caring about their plight right now and is shining brightly. In that case, the stupid caps do come in handy. That is of course, if the badges they are forced to wear were not reflecting the sun straight into each other's eyes. No matter how they seem to twist and turn it, one of them always gets it in the eyes.

Trevor puffs, fed up with this fiddling about. Preferably, he would send that annoying badge flying so it can be used for clay pigeon shooting practice. But this is the closest thing to any identity he has left. And so does Patches, who is looking intently at her own. Like one would carefully examine the ingredient list on the back of soap or air freshener while having nothing better to do while on the toilet. But even such solid and deep reading matter eventually runs out its welcome.

Out of pure boredom, she decides to spin it and fidget with it. After all, they have been waiting for more than 40 minutes. Some rush to get them to the North. The fiddling goes well, only for her to lose her grip and somehow she manages to poke herself in the eye. Uncontrolled colorful language emerges from her lips as she tosses the badge to the floor. Anger from her own stupidity turns to anger towards this whole thing. Her upbeat and determined attitude from back at Nelson's office has disappeared in the meantime.

"Ow! Shit! I hate this! I did not sign up for this! Dammit… why did I agree with this!?" she rages before turning to Trevor.

"Why did I let you convince me?"

He would be lying if he did not feel his heart break a little bit there. A pinpoint accurate strike to chip a piece of it away. He knows it is the rage and powerlessness talking, but behind that is usually a core of truth. And there is nothing he can do right now to take that away, for he cannot help what happened either.

The visible effect of her verbal attack does not go unnoticed by her. Seeing Trevor turn away from her and hide his face behind the cap's visor, makes her instantly regret what she said.

"I… I'm sorry Trevor. I should not have said that. I know you didn't mean for any of this." she apologizes as she scoots over closer to him.

"This is just not what I expected from signing up."

"You could still leave. You don't have to come along." Trevor mumbles.

"What? You can't be serious. Nah, I'm too deep into this now. It sucks and it's going to suck for a longer time… but at least I can share the misery with you. And even if I have my gripes with my choice of joining you… it was my decision. And I made it for a reason."

"Then I'm glad to have you in my corner for this Patch." Trevor says honestly, poking his head back up, happy to hear that from her despite the negatives that are attached to it.

As long as they are together, he feels like they could survive anything. A similar feeling he had with Kip and will probably still have should she ever get the chance to join her. But she is now one of those people that need to keep their mouths shut about his existence. He is however wondering how the Captain will respond to her once she is informed about this abomination of a plan.

Then he hears some static. The first thought was to check his radio but he does not have that one anymore. And yet he can still hear it. He checks everywhere on him until he finally finds the culprit; one of the magazine pouches he pretty much forgot about.

"What the…?"

Trevor cannot finish his sentence as he opens up the pouch and finds an earpiece. He holds it out so that Patches can see it too. And she too is confused about why that was inside his pouch.

"This wasn't in there before." Trevor says puzzled.

But the earpiece is transmitting static still, which means that it is connected to something. Or someone. Out of curiosity, a sense of mystery and having nothing better to do anyway, he puts the earpiece in.

"Hello?"

The static stops and the tension grows. Then a voice speaks. It is very obviously masked by many filters to hide the person's identity. It tells them that it was about time they met. Considering their situation and their delay.

"How do you know about…"

But Trevor does not get the chance to ask the mysterious person about it. Instead, they direct their attention to a small and barricaded entrance to what looks like a cave dug into the dirt of the trench system. The person tells them to go there and wait for them inside. Just make sure that they are not being followed or seen. The guards were gone anyway so that should not be an issue. Then the connection is severed.

In disbelief, Trevor stares at Patches before he takes the earpiece out.

"Who was that?" Patches whispers to make sure it stays between them.

"No clue. But the voice told us that we had to go over there and meet them in that cave there."

Patches does not trust that at all. She takes out her pistol to avoid any risks. Trevor approves and draws his revolver. Clearly there is a leak here. The only people that were to know about their situation would be the Captain, Nelson and themselves. No one else yet at least. And it could not be Kip. She would not be this mysterious. Who it is then, will have to answer themselves in front of two gun barrels.

Keeping low to the ground, the two walk out of their cramped confines and walk up to the crossroad ahead. They have to go straight but they cannot be seen. Armed civilians dressed as homeless people? They would not even need to draw a target on their backs.

The voice said that the guys were gone but Trevor trusts that about as far as he can throw it. Which in the case of the earpiece would be considerable but that is not the point. He directs Patch to peek around the corner on the left while he does the right. And on the count of three, they pop out to find that there is indeed no one.

This does not make the situation better, only more suspicious. It does not sit well with him so he has to keep moving. He tells Patches to follow him and walk backwards to cover the rear. Should anything odd happen. Meanwhile, Trevor is inspecting the wooden barricade to see if it has any weak spots he can break through. But by just pressing against it, it suddenly gives way by rising up like a normal door. Turns out, it was just camouflage to fool people into backing off and not investigate. Who of those knucklehead, trigger-happy goons would be interested in what is behind a wooden barricade when there is something to shoot later on?

Solid reasoning in this case but they are in now. Inside, it is dark. Like pitch black, with the only light coming in from outside.

"We're in." he whispers as he takes out his night sight to use it as a monocular.

"You didn't bring a flashlight by any chance?" he then checks with Patches, who has now also entered.

"Sadly not. Must be in my other uniform at the station still." she answers lightheartedly before the door closes behind them, casting them in complete darkness.

"Psh! Typical. Right then, stay right behind me. Hand on my shoulder, I want your gun pointing to my left. I got the front and the right. When I call "fire!", you unload. Copy?"

"Copy."

The night vision sight is turned on and held in front of his left eye by his left hand. So his strong hand can hold the revolver comfortably. Slowly but surely, they sneak further into this weird crevice. Clearly someone carved this out for some sort of use. Judging from what he can see, it has the shape of a comma. And they are currently in the tail end coming up to the belly.

Then he notices something bright around the corner. A faint light that shines bright within his sight. He turns it off and approaches it. It is a yellow glow stick, nothing too strange. But something is attached to the wall above it. A sensor. Not trusting this at all, Trevor tells Patches to back it up a little while he picks it up. Once they are at a sufficient distance, he tosses the glow stick in the path of the sensor. It is triggered and the lights in this place turn on.

With vision returned so abruptly, they are taken off guard by it for a moment. But as their eyes adjust quickly, they find it a place where someone is living. At least, could in theory live. There is a sleeping bag in the far corner, a small cabinet, a few benches made out of large rectangular rocks and working electricity as evidenced by the lights and a power strip on the floor.

Spotting no one, the weapons can go down but they remain wary. In case that door behind them opens. Trevor goes further in and sees that there is a kettle on. An electric one and judging from the steam coming from the spout it has only been recently turned on. Was someone expecting them? That mysterious voice? Or did they flee in a hurry?

"Was someone expecting guests?" Patches comments as she too sees it.

Trevor shrugs, finding this quite weird. Why were they led here? For tea time? He does not have to wait long for an answer, as the door opens up behind them. But their response time is fast and the guns are already back up. With Trevor still standing and Patches down on one knee.

"Identify yourself!" Trevor calls out, having the hammer cocked already.

The silhouette that forms when the door opens with the light behind him, does put his hands up. But not higher than head-height and without permission walks in. The hulking presence has to bend down so they do not hit his head. Patches squeezes her trigger in response and calls out that this person better listen.

"Please Trevor, Ashley. Keep your weapons to yourself, no need to stuff me like a Thanksgiving turkey." chuckles as the person walks in, adjusting their thin rectangular-framed glasses.

They reveal themselves to be a massive, almost herculean sized blue-feathered avian. His upper chest sticking out and his arms behind his back. He looks as if Falco Lombardi of the Star Fox team took steroids, had pec implants, underwent height increase surgery, got a better sense of high-class military fashion with a somewhat villain-esque aesthetic and replaced his sharp beak with that of a toucan. If somewhat stumpier.

But unlike that feathered fiend on the Star Fox team, he has yellow directly around the eyes instead of red and looks more jolly… for a lack of a better term. In other words, no one would bat an eye if he dressed up in red and white and adorned a fake bread in the local mall.

But this gentle giant is not an unknown person to Trevor and so the revolver goes down back into its holster. Patches sees this, doubts for a moment but then also lowers her gun. Trevor starts to smile and then salutes.

"Sergeant-Major!"

"At ease Corporal. Or should I still call you "Bones" by now?" the avian teases as takes off his hat and gives a quick salute in return so Trevor can stand easy.

Then he looks over at the rabbit, who in comparison to him barely reaches up to his belly button. Even with those heels.

"And you must be Patches. The cop who turned Militia. Excellent choice." he commends her before bending down like a gentleman and non-verbally asks for her hand like they did in the olden days.

Intrigued by this haughty behavior, Patches lets herself be pampered like a lady a little bit and gives him her hand. Which he kisses, as is customary.

"Pleased to meet you. It is not often that I see women as brave as you." the Sergeant-Major compliments as he lets go of her hand only to have her realize that he put the badge she threw on the ground before back into her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you as well Sir." she says feeling a massive blush coming up as well as being a little starstruck at the royal treatment and the smoothness in which he returned the badge to her.

"Call me Herg, I insist. It is not my real name but everyone insists on calling me that so why deny them the pleasure?" he reasons as the door closes behind him.

"Glad you two got my message. I do apologize for the secretive, smoke and mirrors stuff but it is sadly necessary. Considering…"

"Yes, about that Sir; what is going on here? First we are almost hailed as celebrities and now we are literally nobodies." Trevor asks.

"I have the answers. First, sit down. Then we'll talk."

- Velvet and Blunt

Somewhat homely. That is an apt description for the mood of this hidden cave. Not exactly like it but it is trying. It is supplying warmth via an electric heater that functions as a campfire. Given how a real fire would just choke them with black smoke. So it was grabbed from that cabinet.

Furthermore, it has supplied them with a cup of hot tea for added comfort and thirst quenching. Despite one of the guests not being keen on tea, he found himself unable to pass up the offer once there was an option to have a sweet apple tea. The other guest prefers herself a bit of a more earthy flavor and goes for a rooibos herbal tea.

And last but not least, a decently comfortable stone bench so they can rest their weary feet. For relaxation should not ever be a luxury. Even in a tense conflict like this. It also helps to spark easy conversation and it allows for a moment of introduction. So everyone can get acquainted with each other.

Not to mention the gracious, almost Victorian-like host who has provided all of this. The way he brought them here was uncouth by this own admission but it had to happen like this. No one else could know. However he has made up for this by setting the mood straight and cozy. It has appeased Trevor and woo'd Patches. He himself sits rather hunched over to compensate for his large stature. Where he is sitting, the roof is a lot lower. He is sacrificing his relative comfort so that his guests have an easier time and plenty of headspace. After all, they have gotten into a rather rotten situation.

After taking a sip from his strong black tea and savoring the taste, the Sergeant-Major puts his cup aside and turns to his guests.

"I was going to say if any of you believe in ghosts, but clearly I no longer have to." he lightly jests before a haughty chuckle escapes his lips.

"As you are still here… "haunting" so to say, I might as well tell you while I summoned you here." he puns one last time before swallowing another giggle before it too gets by his closed lips.

"I'm here to give you some words of comfort. But also to help you. Me, personally and alone. The Captain has nothing to do with my actions. Hence why I brought you here; as far as I know, no one knows about this little cave of mine."

"Thank you Sarge. Is that why you stole Admiral Sigismundo's uniform?"

The avian chuckles amused at the comment.

"My rank does not determine my style. If I want to walk around looking dapper, then I damn well will." he states proudly as he dusts off one of the ribbon bars he has on the uniform.

Trevor is not wrong about the appearance however. It is very rare for someone who is not an officer yet to wear something like this on the job. If it was meant for ceremonial reasons, like during a military ball or gala, it would not be so much out of place. But right here? He is behind the lines, away from the action but there is still mud, dirt and potentially blood too.

However, the Sergeant-Major does not look bothered by this potential source of smudging on his charcoal gray uniform with darkened silver epaulets and a purple trim along the uniform's edges. A black, leather belt holds it closed. The custom, platina buttons are only for display it seems. Several medals hang over the right side of his chest and just below the ribbon bars. The logo of the Cornerian Army is displayed prominently on his hat. And underneath the right side of his uniform one can see a white handkerchief poke out.

"I don't mind at all." Patches mouths as she looks him up and down properly before she feeds her thirsty mouth some tea.

"Fair enough Sir, I won't dig your style again. But why do you want to help us behind the Captain's back?" wonders Trevor while holding his cup with two hands.

"Because of this. You two, turning into a vapor unit. I understand why. Deniability, small strike force, quick in and out. Minimal risk, maximum reward. There is motivation and urgency behind it so it keeps things moving."

He leans in towards the two of them.

"The Captain has compared this thing to a chess board, not necessarily the rules of it. He wants to get all of his pawns in perfect positions to swoop in tomorrow and mop up what remains of the bugs. But for that, he needs bishops, knights and rooks too. He has three bishops, no knights and only one rook. And you… are that rook in this scenario. Meant to thrust in, wreak havoc and then come straight back. Preferably alive but not entirely irreplaceable. It is a brilliant plan from him and it would cement the Cornerian Army as a force to be reckoned with, instead of playing lackey to an ever ego-expanding Star Fox team."

He takes a moment to have some more tea. Mentioning those bozos in the same story in which the word "brilliant" has been used has left a bitter taste in his mouth. With that now gone, he continues.

"There is just one tiny flaw in that plan." Herg explains very bureaucratically.

"And what would that be then, Herg?" Patches asks.

"It is bollocks." answers without a hint of sarcasm.

His response leaves the both a little bit astonished, unsure how to respond to this. The moment of silence that follows after only cements his displeasure with the decision. The way he described the Captain's plan… it sounded like he was on board with it. And he could still be, but taking extreme exemption to his particular decision to wipe their existence out.

"So… you are betraying the Captain here?" Trevor asks, a tad hesitant as he knows that betrayal or desertion, let alone a false accusation of that, is not taken lightly.

But Herg is not denying it. Instead, he dumbs it down a bit. Calling it a "velvet backstab with a blunt knife". It hurts but it is not going to kill him. Furthermore, he has to do it behind his back. Openly disagreeing with the Captain while you are the XO, is not done. Even as the second-highest person in command.

"I know his intentions and his plan. But this decision goes too far. Turning you into a vapor unit. Moreover, he wanted more. Let me guess, Nelson asked you to surrender your belongings? And that the rapport kept the last bits of your existence intact?"

"That is what he said, yes." replies Patches.

In response, Herg reaches into his uniform and takes a dossier that looks a lot like the one that Nelson had. Then he hands it over. His facial expression shows he thinks it is a shame that it had to be done like this. At first, when Trevor takes it, he has no idea why the Sergeant-Major would express that. But when he sees that the seal is broken, he begins to piece some things together. And the puzzle is complete when he opens it and finds that the first few pages are already shredded into ribbons with page 8 being the one that was saved just in time.

"Order 43A was to be destroyed once all parties aware of it would be informed. This order was not authorized by High Command. This was all the Captain's idea. I am sorry you had to find this out like this."

With bewilderment, the two read and flip through the pages and eventually find the order for its destruction on the last paragraph of the last page. Along with any personal belongings of the parties to be sent out. And yes, parties. As in plural.

"What happened to our stuff?" Trevor asks hesitantly.

"I held up the runner that came from Nelson, whose job it was to bring your belongings to the incinerator. I made sure that anything that could be copied, was copied. Contacts, files and other things from devices were collected and now stored on a harddrive in my office. And, if all else fails, I have the most important things printed out and stored in my personal safe."

The pair nearly blow out the entire contents out their lungs, that is how hard they exhale. But the Sergeant-Major has even more good news. With a broad and satisfied if slightly smug smile, he tells Trevor that he managed to save his radio. The tech guys were done with it faster than expected. He somewhat denies having been the driving force behind it.

"They did remove that Aparoid core. For intel reasons. But your radio works without it now. Intriguing piece of kit you got. So heavy though!"

Trevor loosens his shoulders in response.

"I can carry things very well. I mean, if I can carry her, I can carry anything really." he jokes while pointing at Patches, who is not slow in noticing and therefore responds accordingly.

Now the Sergeant-Major knows what Nelson meant when he mentioned the relationship between the two in Nova 7. Quite unorthodox but seemingly very effective. Something that the Captain could not swallow. So Herg now suspects that the idea of turning Trevor's unit into a vapor unit, might also have been ever so slightly motivated by the Captain's personal convictions. Which happens very rarely.

"I believe that then." Herg reacts entertained, keeping his inner thoughts to himself.

"So I shall not keep you seperated from it any longer."

The Sergeant-Major then talks into the microphone he has built into the collar of his uniform and tells someone to bring it in. Shortly after, the door does indeed open and the same male soldier that frisked Trevor from before comes in, carrying the radio on his back. It is bagged in a large fabric sack for concealment. And he is all too happy to hand it back to the Corporal.

"Quite heavy?" spots Herg comical, to which the soldier agrees while he catches his breath before the Sergeant-Major puts his arm behind his neck and pulls him in towards him like it was his best friend. Almost short of rubbing his knuckles over his skull.

"This little man is my own personal runner. Comes with the perks of the rank I suppose. And he was in on this. He was the cunning bugger that put that earpiece in your pouch." he praises before giving the soldier a few pats on his helmet and then letting him go.

The runner does what he is meant to do and leaves, a little confused at what just happened. But for the Sergeant-Major, it was business as usual. And while Trevor is checking a tad neurotically if everything is still inside there, Patches thanks him on their behalf. But Herg deflects the gratitude, saying that it is only his duty.

"And since you are down there Corporal, how about you try if it indeed works?" he suggests.

Trevor has his doubts, especially because getting on the wrong frequency could get him detected. But as he fiddles with the knobs, he notices that the frequency is locked in on 1001.08 FM. The same one he used to contact Nelson. Looking at the Sergeant-Major however, it seems this is by design. A little hesitant, he takes the transmitter module and calls out as Nova 7.

There is a moment of silence before something is picked up by the microphone on the other side. Some rummaging and faint conversations in the background. Before he can hear someone sitting down and clearing their throat.

"... Please don't hate me." Nelson mumbles in response.

"It wasn't personal, please. I was just following orders!"

Trevor recoils a little from the sudden change in tone from fairly inaudible to panicked, aloud pleading. But he can console the shrew once he gets his wits back, saying that he knows it was not personal. And that he is glad to be still in contact with him.

"Oh thank… something or other. Is the Sergeant-Major still with you?"

"Yup. Sitting right next to me in his little grotto."

All can hear Nelson audibly salute as he barely misses the microphone doing so.

"Mission accomplished then Sir!"

"Not yet Private. You will be Nova 7's contact and will remain so until I say otherwise. Only I can take you off your position. Refer only to me, got it?" the Sergeant-Major emphasizes.

"Yes Sir! We are all in the same boat now anyway, aren't we?"

"Indeed. And we must not get lost out at sea. Corporal, Nelson will be available on the occasion. As he does this in secret, he might not always be there to reply. Keep that in mind."

"I will keep it in mind, Sarge. Thanks for the caution."

"Excellent. Nelson, thank you for your cooperation. Continue your business."

"No, thank you Sir. For giving me a chance to do right. Nova 7, hear you on the battlefield. Nelson out!"

With that said, the transmission is cut off and Trevor returns the module. He does not move the radio, instead putting it back in the bag it was in before. He understands that it was for concealment purposes. As he sits back down, he cannot find any words to express his gratitude. But the Sergeant-Major reiterates what he said before and Trevor is content with that.

Then the avian remembers something. He reaches into his uniform again but this time on the other side and grabs a picture the size of a passport photograph. Like one you can put in a locket. While saying that he almost forgot about it, he hands it over to Patches.

She cannot believe her eyes when she sees it. She covers her own mouth to keep herself silent but she cannot stop any moisture forming in her eyes. It is a picture of her mother. Recognizing the importance of family, Herg says he found it in her wallet while making copies of the documents. There was an obvious reason why a picture would be there so he kept the original so he could personally return it.

"I do not dare ask what she means to you, but I figured if I returned something to Trevor that is important to him, I should not ignore his +1."

Patches starts smiling and sniffling uncontrollably as she nods along with what Herg says. Then she puts the picture in her pocket, stands up and instantly jump-hugs the big bird. A bigger "thank you" you could not possibly get. Trevor, knowing this, therefore makes no effort to pluck her off him. Not that it is necessary, as Herg does not seem to mind it much despite his obvious surprise at first.

When Patches collects herself, she lets him go and sits back down. Her gratitude is enormous and properly communicated. Trevor checks with her and she tells she is alright now.

"Well then, now that the gifts have been distributed, how about we finish our tea before your escort comes by? Furthermore, I would love to hear about your exploits down there in the underground. I read only the written word but the story told is usually a lot more entertaining. Please, indulge me." he requests as he picks up his tea cup.

- Two Tickets to Paradise

Five soldiers march through the trench system until they reach their goal; that with wood "barricaded" lair. Two people are in there that require escort off the base as soon as possible. The fabricated barricade does not confuse them for they have been told how it works. They open it without any problems and enter.

What they find inside, is perplexing to say the least. One could easily stay and camp here for the night. It is warm, dry and it has a homely atmosphere. Further emphasized by the three current inhabitants of this dwelling. Two of which are the people that need an escort but they are in the middle of conversation. The leading soldier tries to interrupt but then something hilarious is said. Guffawing ensues, tea is spit out and knees are slapped.

Once the humorous mood has died down a little bit, does the leading soldier see his opportunity to interrupt.

"Sergeant-Major! Private Second Class Clyde Sharp reporting. We are here to escort those two civilians you are currently having as your… guests." he states, like there is something very wrong with it.

In her head, Patches is thinking that there is a reason why this guy is only second class. Everything about him screams stuck-up. The type of smug only a person with a rich daddy could radiate or someone that has not yet had their initiation.

The Sergeant-Major turns around and looks the man up and down. Judging by his restrained look, he gets the same vibes as Patches does so he decides to play coy and kind. He gave a quick, cheeky wink to Nova 7 before turning his already posh but pleasant accent up to 11.

"My dear boy, thank you for coming by. But must you take them away right now? We were just finishing up our tea."

"Apologies Sir, but we are here with orders. And we are already late as it is, as these civilians were not where they were supposed to be." Clyde responds accusatory towards them, which is not received well by those he accuses.

"I found these poor chaps out in the cold outside. Look at them, they have to wear overcoats to keep themselves warm properly. Not to mention that this war is no place for civilians to begin with. They would still be shivering if I had left them outside. Cold or not. So I invited them in for some warm tea." he lies very convincingly as he offers some to the soldier.

Repulsed by the idea alone, the soldier declines. The avian notes his dismissal but does not stray from his act.

"Not a fan? That is a pity. But I guess orders are orders."

He pats his knees and stands up, surprising the soldier with his height.

"Bones, Patches. It was a pleasure being your host. But I am afraid your escort has arrived."

Nova 7 plays along, drinking the last bit of their tea and putting it aside properly. Patches makes sure she wraps the overcoat tightly around her and shivers only slightly, to make sure it is not too obvious. Trevor follows her example and then shakes the Sergeant-Major's hand, thanking him in a fake hoarse voice for his hospitality.

"But what about our cargo?" Patches brings up, with that more Silva-inspired accent from before.

"Ah yes, of course."

The Sergeant-Major looks over to a soldier at the back, snaps his fingers and beckons them to come closer. He instructs very carefully to carry this baggage with the utmost amount of care. Not a scratch or blemish. What would happen if that order was not followed, is whispered to him. Judging by how pale his face becomes, it is nothing good. He salutes, yells "Yes Sir!" in response and grabs the bag.

Once the soldier is back where he was before, the Sarge can clearly see that Clyde is having some reservations about his actions. With his hands now behind his back and his chest puffed up again, the Sergeant-Major observes this and approaches him. Calm yet imposing.

"Everything alright Private? You look a little tongue-tied."

Clyde shakes his head.

"No Sir. We simply weren't told that there would be cargo we had to carry along." he sputters.

"Well, there is now. We cannot keep it here, we do not have the room silly boy! Plus, we must protect these people, not confiscate their stuff. Would you not agree?" Herg asks him as he puts his hand on the shoulder of the soldier, putting no pressure on him at all.

"N-No, I mean… Yes Sir!" Clyde replies loud and clear.

For Nova 7, this is lovely to see. Patches whispers that she wished she had popcorn for this.

"Good. Then you have baggage now. Glad that it is settled.

He takes his hand off the shoulder and turns towards his sadly leaving company.

"Now, my esteemed guests. I really must say goodbye now. Time does not wait for the gentle, shamefully. I hope we meet again after this conflict has passed, yes?"

Both nod.

"Lovely. I shall leave you in the care of Private Second Class… … Oh I do apologize! I am atrocious with names. What was your name again lad?" he asks fairly normally on the surface, but with an air of hostility, light mockery and dislike.

Clyde swallows the blockage that has formed in his throat and reintroduces himself again while the avian paces up and down in front of him.

"Well then Clyde. My guests had a difficult day and are likely not going to have a better one. They are cold and their voices have given out. So, please tell your men not to talk to them. Not for any reason. Any person disobeying this order, will be written down. Understood?"

"Clear as day Sir!" Clyde replies, getting quite uncomfortable now.

"Good. Because if I find out any part of my specific order has been disobeyed… well, you can ask the good lad that now looks like he has seen a ghost. Poor, poor soul."

The implications are clear and as his face slowly turns pale too, he wants nothing more than to get out. So he asks permission to take the civilians with him for escort and to be dismissed.

"Of course you may. Did I not already tell you you could take them?" the Sergeant-Major then counters.

"But… Y-yes you did. Civilians, please join us. We will have you off the base ASAP."

Trevor and Patches decide to follow this order and approach. Only for the Sergeant-Major to stop Trevor for a moment. He whispers something in his ear and Trevor tends to agree with what is shared. With one last handshake, he puts on the hood of his overcoat and tells Patches to do the same. Which is a little bit uncomfortable considering her ears but eventually it fits. They then depart with the escort and are led outside. Once there, the soldiers assume the escort formation. One leading, the other four positioned akin to the four dots on a dice. With the civilians in between the four in a row. Trevor is at the end and Patches is at the front.

"Escort assumed. On my command, we march at walking pace… forward… March!" Clyde orders loud and clear as the column starts moving.

With bowed heads, they look like the monks they envisioned themselves going back to the monastery. All they lack is the one at front holding up a big cross and another spouting psalms from the holy book. But they are under military escort so that absence makes sense. They keep quiet so those who might be nosy are discouraged from talking to them.

This might have worked if they were not carrying their guns with them. Along with the mysterious and anonymous nature of them. So the two soldiers at their front start to gossip between each other about them. It is just loud enough for the both of them to hear.

One of them seems reasonable, saying that their orders are not to disturb the civilians and not talk about them. But the other one is headstrong and cannot let it just be.

"Hey lady!" he shouts behind him.

"What's with the weapons eh? Since when are civvies allowed to carry?"

Patches ignores him and is quickly unintentionally supported by Clyde, who tells the stick in the mud to keep it down. But there is a reason he is a stick in the first place and he keeps accosting her. Testing her patience, to see if she would break.

Trevor's hands are hidden underneath that robe and they are reaching for his holster. But luckily it does not have to resort to violence, as the column stops in its tracks on the non-verbal order of Clyde. He then turns to the disobeying soldier, stands before him and observes him from top to toe. A little bit like the Sergeant-Major did with him. The soldier seems to not care too much about it.

Then Clyde's expression turns very intense and within just a few moments he literally slaps the careless attitude right off the soldier's face. With a disrespectful backhand. The soldier struggles to stay upright and is no longer having such a fun time.

"Tate, you are on the list. Back in line. Unless you want another one." Clyde states sternly and without any remorse.

"Is that allowed?" Patches whispers to Trevor now that they have a moment where they are no longer the focal point.

"No, not at all. Discipline can be held without psychical abuse. This guy is overcompensating." Trevor replies.

"Pfft! A little bit. Bet he's got a little carrot down there."

"Most likely."

Their banter at Clyde's expense is cut short as the order to reform is shouted and the column starts moving again. This time, no one dares to speak to them. Not because they were told not to do, but because they dread the repercussions. And if that was something verbal, then he would understand. No one likes being yelled at. But this is crossing the line. He will remember that name now, Clyde.

For a few minutes the column moves silently through the trench systems until they are out and reach the barbed wire fence that leads to the grounds out of the base. Once their identity is confirmed, the gate opens for them and they are allowed through. At the absolute border, Clyde stops. His toes are just short of the line.

"Escort complete. Column, disperse."

The four-eyed formation disperses and Clyde steps aside, allowing the "civilians" to exit the formation. Once they are out, Clyde stops them by using his arm as a boom barrier.

"Civilians. I hope you enjoyed your stay." he says extremely disinterested before he snaps his fingers at the soldier carrying Trevor's baggage.

The soldier looks only one breeze away from buckling so as fast as he can he legs it to the front so he can hand it back. But Clyde has a different idea; the transport has arrived. A normal civilian 4x4 that has been requisitioned by the army.

"Load it in the back. And no scratches or blemishes on it!" he shouts after as the soldier picks it back up and puts it in ever so carefully.

With a nice hard slam, the trunk of the car is closed with the radio perfectly preserved inside. Relieved that this weight is finally off of his shoulders, he returns to Clyde and reports it has been done.

"Good. Back in line."

The soldier obliges gladly. Then Clyde turns back to Nova 7.

"Your baggage is in the back. I don't know what the Sergeant has with you… Mister Bones…?" he wonders while leaning in to look at the name tag, which only displays the fake last name.

"And Miss Patches then… but your transport awaits. Good luck out there."

He salutes and surprisingly receives one back from Mister Bones. To make sure that he does not look any further, Trevor ends it prematurely and wrong. Clyde seems content with that but it was strange regardless. A little confused still, he turns back around and tells the column to move out.

Once they are out of view and the gate closes in front of them, they lose their overcoats and fake name tags. Bundling them up and throwing them near the outflow pipe of a ditch closeby. Then they leg it to the car and get into the back.

The inside is rather odd. The seats and everything around them is covered with a thin layer of something akin to plastic. And between them and the driver's compartment, is a layer of transparent polymer. There is a ventilation hole in the roof so fresh air can get in, but seemingly contaminated air not out. Unless it is filtered. Then the doors lock, sealing them inside.

"Trevor? Why do I feel we just entered a padded asylum room?"

"Because I think we did." he answers before signaling to the driver.

The driver checks his rearview mirror and sees his new passengers. Ignoring them completely, he simply calls in that he has the two in the car and that he is ready to transport them to their destination. He gets the go-ahead, turns on his wireless headphones to cancel all noise from the outside and starts driving away.

"Where do you think we are going?" asks Patches, still uncomfortable with the situation.

But the driver kind of already spoils this, as he is boisterous singing along with a rock song. Completely ignoring the fact he is completely off-key and causing headaches for the rest inside the car. Trevor really wished he had access to his radio now so he could use those ear pieces.

However, he does stop something when looking at the polymer plate between them. It also has one of those filters like the one in the roof, but this one looks like it can be closed. So does and this saves them from having to endure bad singing for the whole trip.

"Thanks Sir." Patches sighs.

"No problem. Now, we'll wait to see where he takes us to. If he does something that does not take us up North, you have permission to test how strong that polymer is against your war crime ammo."

A rather villainous smirk forms on her face. In any other context, it would be rather unsettling. But Trevor has the same idea. Should it be necessary, they will do whatever it takes to keep themselves safe.

- Drop off

The car ride is taking quite a long time, so boredom has set in in the back of the SUV. There is pretty much no one on the road right now. Mainly because there is a war going on right now. Might have something to do with it. Or it could be the multitude of military checkpoints they have to go through.

They pass through easily enough, as the driver seems to have a card that gets them through without delay. Just a quick scan, waiting for the confirmation with a lovely little beep and they are off again. The driver does not even have to take out his earphones, he rolls down the window and hands over the card when it is his turn. And when returned, the window would be rolled back up.

On one hand Trevor appreciates the "middle finger" attitude this guy is displaying as it gets them there faster. On the other hand, he is to suppress the urge to give him a proper verbal beatdown. But he is no longer Corporal now. So he maintains his composure and decides to have a nap to pass the time. And if something important comes up, he will rely on his "alarm" to give him a heads up.

Patches on the other hand has chosen to look out the window. Like a tourist visiting the big city for the first time but with less camera-out moments and big smiles. Instead, it is dejection and feeling more cramped than a sardine in its tin. With occasional dread mixed in when she sees the cleanup efforts of the army go about. This also includes the disposal of dead Aparoids and their victims. Mercy kills are given to those too far gone but it looks so horrifyingly murderous from the outside. The weather becomes correspondingly more dreary, drizzly and gray.

She also witnesses a building collapse while they were stopped at another checkpoint. Its foundation ruined by an explosion, it makes sure that some soldiers that are close to it have to leg it for their lives. Once the cacophony of destruction and the thick smoke has passed and the soldiers are safe, they look back in disbelief. Which soon turns into laughter and proclamations of them being invincible. Death cannot stop them. Secretly they are extremely happy to be alive and they were sweating heavily while fearing for their lives. But this cannot stop the euphoria they feel right now.

They seem like really close friends. Reminds her a little bit about her and Trevor. She wants to point that out but then notices that Trevor has already dozed off, resting his head against the cold window of the car. So she will tell him about it later.

While looking at him, she cannot help but to fall back into those angry feelings she already expressed when they were waiting outside for the escort. Once more, she knows that he had no knowledge that this would happen. And in reality, she is more so disappointed in herself. She was very rash and so eager to have someone on her side. And he was there for her. Cared for her, gave her respect, status and companionship. Asked for nothing in return and only suggested that she could be with him in a team.

And now look where she is. Stuck in a quarantined car, with no identity of her own and sent unwillingly on a secret mission from which they might never return. All she has is that picture of her mother, her outfit and her guns. And someone she has been calling a partner for the last day or so. While at the same time, he does not call her a partner. Instead, a +1. Cute replacement but does it have the same impact?

"Why am I thinking so negatively? He is my friend!" she then fires back at herself.

"If anything, I'm at fault for accepting it. But at the same time, I've never had so much fun before. That fight in the metro, the adventure that was the basement. All forced upon me but who was by my side the whole time? To make it bearable? To make it… fun? Trevor. Despite him only knowing me for as long as I know him. And now look at him, comfortable enough to sleep in my presence."

A big smile begins to form as the negative thoughts evaporate like snow when Solar starts shining. Her mind feels made up. Regardless of what the world, fate or just dumb bad luck will bring, she will stick with him. For he will do the same, she is sure of it.

She returns to her sightseeing, content with how she handled that inner turmoil. Not that it is forever gone but it is out of her mind for now. Time passes rather quickly after that and soon enough they are passing through into their area of operation: The North of Corneria City. And the closer they get, the more crowded with soldiers it becomes. Which also means more and more checkpoints.

This annoying stop-and-start situation does not prove very effective in keeping Trevor asleep and soon enough, after a particularly hard stomp on the brake, he is forced to awaken. Groggy and at first a little confused, he asks where they are.

"Almost where we need to be." Patches answers.

"At least I think so, considering the huge density of checkpoints here."

Trevor looks out the windows to his side and in front of him and does see a large amount of military activity ahead and around them. But that card the driver is holding pretty much allows them to instantly pass through. And when this checkpoint is passed, the car suddenly takes a sharp left and floors it. The driver comments that the road is finally clear and he can unleash those horsepowers.

It is a good thing that seatbelts are a thing, otherwise they would have been pancaked against the polymer. This guy thinks that this is a race or something. Trevor wants to voice his discomfort but then the driver slows down, moaningly so without him having said a single word. He sees why ahead: A maze of gates and barbed wire in front of a massive wall of concrete blocks stacked higher than a small apartment building. It is very impressive and daunting to see. A sign that they pass by does not bode well for what is about to come.

"Infection Zone ahead? Is this where we need to get out?" asks Patches, a little hesitant when the sign passes them by.

"I'm afraid so. Better keep our composure; from experience the gents guarding these outposts are usually crazy enough to volunteer for this."

"Pfft! I've been doing nothing else than keeping myself calm." she retorts.

The car stops at the boom barrier and the guard approaches the open window. As disinterested as ever, the driver holds out the card and the guard takes it. Standard procedure, until the scanning device from the guard does not give a beep. So of course, the guard rejects it and tosses it back to the driver. Hitting him in the face and he takes that personally.

Now Trevor is interested in how this is going to play out. He reaches out to reopen the filter so they can hear it better. But he quickly backs away, as he recognizes the guard. When Patches inquires, Trevor tells her that. And with him having a distinctive mustachioed look, it is best not to attract his attention. They are nobody now after all. However Patches can still look closer and can overhear the conversation pretty well.

The guard is dismissing that the card is valid and the driver is in turn demanding an apology from the guard for lightly hitting him in the face with the so-called "invalid" card. It goes but and forth between them and gets a little more heated when the driver takes out his earbuds.

He starts saying that he does not care if the card is invalid or not, he has to bring the infected back into the zone. He picked them up from the military base after they were found as stragglers there. And that they have been calm up until now but he does not want to have them in the back when they start turning.

Hearing that, pretty much confirms why they are in a plastic bubble with only filters letting air through. And why their compartment is seperated from the driver by that polymer slide. He thinks that they are infected with the Aparoid virus. And it gives her an idea to speed up this process of bickering. She sits back down and beckons Trevor to come closer.

"Would you take an order from me, Sir?" she whispers.

"What would that be?"

"Follow my lead, I have an idea."

Between her telling him that and her executing the idea are mere fractions. She tugs her legs in only for her to give one hell of a double horse kick to the back of the driver's seat. The driver in turn is catapulted forward but is stopped by his seatbelt before his face makes an imprint into this steering wheel.

The driver, now even more frustrated, starts yelling at her to stop that. But instead she continues kicking it, like an annoying and unsupervised child during a flight. She screams that she does not want to go to the infected zone, that she is fine and that she just wants out. And from Trevor's point of view, she conveys it very well.

However, he has not seen everything yet. When the guard comments on how she does not seem all that calm now, the driver responds by saying she was very calm before. Whereupon the guard then logically reasons that the virus must make you schizophrenic or have wild mood swings. And upon hearing that, she finds the missing puzzle piece in her plan. Aparoids want nothing more than to consume all that is around them. Make it join their hivemind. And since they are clearly infected too, so must they.

Like she is possessed, her behavior suddenly shifts from annoying and kicking to suddenly being very stiff and silent. The sudden change visibly irks the guard outside. Very slowly, her eyes wander over to him. And that is when she throws herself against the window, like she was actually lunging at him. It hurts a ton but it is convincing enough for the guard to recoil at least several steps back. To make sure her intention is conveyed properly, her whole expression radiates unhinged. And as a final touch, she starts licking the window in his direction.

The guard is very spooked and when the driver checks his rearview mirror to check what is going on, he too is startled when Patches slams herself with full force against the polymer. Making animalistic noises and banging on the polymer to let her through.

The driver responds in complete panic now, begging to be let in to drop them off. At this point, Trevor can no longer ignore the effectiveness of her work and starts to pitch in. In the lowest voice he can produce, he asks his partner in crime if she feels inclined to share the prey she has set her eyes upon. And she agrees, with a tone of voice akin to a slithering viper.

"Do you want these two crazies? I can unlock the door right now and then they are your problem." threatens the driver, with his hands now molded to the steering wheel while being straight up petrified.

"Uhm… y-yeah. Sure. Go through." the guard stutters in response before he signals for the barrier to be lifted.

Both of them continue to pretend to be mental cases, slamming their fists and hands against the glass and polymer. Then when the barrier is lifted and the gate of the wall ahead is opened, the driver floors it as quickly as possible so he can get rid of those fools in the back. Once the checkpoint has been passed, they slow their act down before they share a glance and stop instantly. Only for them to gradually fall into a hysterical laughter at what they have just achieved in doing. Which unnerves the driver even more.

Meanwhile, they have been driven inside the infection zone. The car then suddenly stops in the middle of a roundabout. The driver's hands are still glued to the steering wheel as he looks up at his rearview mirror. In that, he sees the "infected" pair's fun has not died down a lot from his emergency stop. With trembling lips, he then dares to disturb their hilarity and asks very politely if they could please leave.

"And please don't forget about your baggage…"

The laughing then stops and the two get back into character. At first politely asking if he could at least unlock the doors then. For it would be difficult to get out if the lock is still there. Stumbling over his own words, the driver admits his mistake and manages to wrench his hand off the wheel so he can unlock the door. With an audible CLICK the cardoors and the trunk unlock. Hearing this opportunity, Trevor cannot pass up the chance to leave him without dry pants.

Pretending to be very sensitive to that sound, he first freezes completely. Before baring his teeth, growling and then slamming his shoulder into polymer. Which actually moves out of alignment because of this. The driver is now in complete panic, screaming like a woman who found a mouse in the kitchen and starts to reach for his gun.

Knowing when enough is enough, Trevor and Patches make the logical decision to get out of the car before the driver's sweaty fingers can get a good hold on his pistol. They quickly pick the baggage out of the car before this twitchy guy starts to drive away. And just in time too, as the moment the bag is lifted out, the wheels of the car start to spin and it speeds off. Back the way it came.

Patches watches it go and even waves after him. A little icing on the crazy cake. In the meantime, Trevor has his radio out of the sack and back on his back. Where it belongs. He then joins Patches as she stops waving.

"Excellent work Patch. I loved the idea of acting like a rabid infected. And you did it very convincingly. To the point where for a moment, I actually believed you." Trevor tells impressed.

Patches giggles.

"I learned from watching you pretend about."

"No no, that is natural stuff right there. I refuse to believe I added so much to that."

"Refuse all you want. I will never admit you didn't inspire me." she states, pleasantly stubborn.

Trevor takes it for granted then, despite detecting some positive ambiguity in there. Besides, they have a more important task. Getting that Aparoid core before the main army of the Captain's pawns roll through and clean house. When that happens without the core handed over, they will be nobodies. Anyone that would recognize them, would be facing a gun barrel. Dreadful but motivating.

At least they are not as undersupplied as they were meant to be. Courtesy of that gentleman of a Sergeant-Major. He definitely deserves a beer at the very least. If only he would drink beer, instead he prefers tea. To each their own. So maybe a box of exotic tea flavors would do the trick.

And then of course there is Nelson. The poor shrew that was thrust into becoming their Liaison Officer, knew them in person for less than an hour or so and already had to strip them of all that they were. But now he has been recruited by the Sergeant-Major to be their contact. And when in Rome…

Trevor presses the broadcast button but strangely hears vague static instead of nothing. Then he remembers the mentioning of those jammers in the area. Those are blocking radio and other signals. But this can be useful, as the close they are to one of those jammers, the louder the static will become. And once that jammer is down, then they can contact Nelson again and have his guidance in potentially tracking a core.

Until then, this infection zone in the north of the city will be their playground. Communication is down for now but Trevor distributes the wireless earpieces again, for when the jammer is down. With weapons drawn, equipment set, a clear goal and their convictions held high, they move further in. And the infection zone with its many tracking and prying eyes welcome them kindly in their diseased underbelly.