The garage-hangar.

Layon and Ambient stood arguing, the Shadow Fox timidly watched, and Brad huddled quietly in the room's periphery. Between Layon and Ambient lay Shadow, unmoving.

~Do y'want t'go frolickin' outside again? All ah'm askin is that yeh fuck off for a few minutes.~

"Listen to me. If you dislodge that thing, this stops." Layon demonstrated Shadow with a sweep of his hand. "And I'm not sure the word 'careful' is even in your vocabulary."

~You do realize he wouldae killed you too?~

"How is that any different from me expecting death from you constantly?"

Ambient rolled its optics. ~I wasnae bein' serious.~

"Ah. That's where we're at now? Threats to life and limb are funny?"

Utterly deadpan: ~Yes.~

Layon sighed. "How about you let me do this, and when I'm done you can do… whatever you want?"

Ambient snorted. ~Do let me know how y'intend to get in.~

Layon took this as an invitation and stalked to a workbench, where he picked up a small, hooked blade. Ambient watched as the man returned and started sawing ineffectually at the base of Shadow's throat.

Brad watched, visibly uncomfortable. Ambient, just kill it.

~Not lived this long bein' an idiot, love.~ Ambient replied, privately and dispassionately. ~Not givin' Tod's-man instructions on how to kill us. Bad enough that his fuckin' toy actually works. As soon as we'hre done here, I need yeh t'destroy it.~

Brad frowned. Can't we also use it for-

~No.~ Ambient growled. ~That it can still be built at all is'a problem. Ah'll take care of Tod's-man, then Shadow, while you take care of th'device. Then weh'll take care a'his records too.~

Brad didn't even register what he was agreeing to. He simply nodded.

Obviously, if the Fox wasn't going to cooperate, then Layon's privileged status no longer applied. Obviously, Layon was far too great a danger if he could successfully produce something capable of subduing Organoids. Obviously-

It hit him then. Brad glanced sharply at Ambient.

Disagreement was difficult for bondmates: joined thoughts rooted in the same place. At best, disagreement manifested as deep contemplation. Brad couldn't have cared less about Layon, but knew Steve had a soft spot for the man, however antagonistic.

That likewise brought to mind Steve's present behavior and dragged Brad into the unpleasant mire of remembering things weren't simple anymore.

But killing Layon? Wouldn't really fix anything. And it would undoubtedly upset the Fox, Steve, and probably a few other people.

Did he care, though? It was the fastest way to neutralize the issue of the restraint device.

But couldn't the restraint device help them? Couldn't-

Brad felt the Fox's uneasy regard from across the hangar. He glanced at it.

So used to experiencing comfort and camaraderie with the Zoid, when no such feeling materialized Brad's insides sank. Instead he felt only the Fox's concern, its fear, and, worst of all - its resolve.

A protracted mental standoff wasn't what Brad needed. Manifesting his own indecision with a grunt, he carefully stood, produced a cigarette, and exited with a pain-stiffened walk.

"What the hell," Layon growled to no one in particular, having broken a sweat and accomplished nothing. After a reflexive glance at Brad's movement, he glared up at Ambient. "Come on, at least help me."

Ambient stretched as it watched Brad depart, then draped its neck down the side of a crate.

~No.~

"You know, I used to think seeing an Organoid would be cool." Jaime muttered.

The teen sat beside the base lounge's large videscreen. Beside it, a wide vertical panel had been slid out, revealing the electronics powering said screen. Components lay scattered, an obvious work in progress.

Bit glanced from where he sat sprawled in the adjacent seating.

Neither could sleep. The room lacked comfort without the entire Team in it. Jaime's comment didn't help, and the hum of the overhead lights seemed loud in the silence.

"Careful what you wish for, I guess." Bit replied at length. He agreed with Jaime, but at the same time, disagreed. The other Organoids were problems, certainly. But he loved Zero. Him and the white Organoid were inseparable. Perfect.

Bit felt his conscience snag on the recalled sensation of Zero's fangs sinking into Stoller.

He both felt bad and didn't care about it, a mental state that shouldn't have been able to exist. Bit closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, and tried to clear his head.

It'd be so much easier if he only had one opinion on things. But… didn't he only have one opinion on things? Hadn't he always?

"Bit, stop rocking back and forth." Jaime grumbled. "It's distracting."

Bit hadn't realized he was, and stopped. "Sorry."

"It's fine. But… I mean, are you okay? I know the-" Jaime made a criss-cross gesture across his neck,"-is still sore, but you've been really weird since the other day."

Reminded, Bit touched part of the fading bruise on his neck. He'd almost forgotten about his injuries, too busy being mired in Zero's mental static. "I'm just worried. About Vega. And the Liger."

Jaime stopped and glanced. The edge of ire in his expression dulled when he saw how sullen Bit looked. "Have you slept at all, Bit? I keep seeing you with energy drinks. And I know you haven't eaten."

Bit wrinkled his nose. "I've eaten."

"When?"

"You know, when…" Bit trailed off as Stoller appeared in the doorway.

Stoller nodded to Jaime, who returned the gesture. Then the tall man walked to and stood in front of Bit, arms folded.

"I need to know what your plan is."

"I don't have one." Bit felt Zero paying attention as Stoller's lip started to curl. Bit went on defiantly, "And I don't need one. I don't have anything to hide."

"You have more than everyone else has to hide, combined. And you're foolish if you think-"

"-that I'm right?" Bit made a sharp, smooth motion with one hand. "Zero and I can teleport. Anywhere, immediately. Why should I worry?"

"Being headstrong serves you well when there's a margin for error. It's not going to work so well here."

Stoller wasn't wearing his heavier overcoat; Bit could see the pink and red edges of Zero's toothmarks near the man's pronounced collarbone. "Didn't we already have this conversation? I'm not changing my mind. If you're not happy, you leave."

"Again, that's somewhat more difficult now that your old teammate's stolen my Zoid."

"Then talk to Doc or Jaime. I-"

"Bit." Jaime said, clearly listening in. "Stoller has a point. What if-"

"Nobody asked you." Bit snapped, and Jaime reflexively winced back.

"This isn't us asking you anything." Stoller said. "It's us telling you you need to leave, because you're putting everyone here at risk - including yourself - by staying."

"I'm the only one here that can protect everyone!"

Stoller arched a brow, the well-stoked embers of his disapproval now starting to burn. He pointedly duplicated Bit's earlier hand-motion. "So are you staying, or going? Because if your plan is to just leave, then you're not protecting anyone either."

After an idle span of watching Shadow, Ambient realized the beast wasn't unconscious - just paralyzed.

The red Organoid smirked as it watched the other blearily consider its surroundings, including an increasingly-vexed Layon. Shadow's focus eventually came to rest on Ambient, who hadn't moved from its lazy spot on the stack of crates.

~You're an even greater fool than I took you for.~ Shadow whispered.

~Bold words feh'r someone completely at th'mercy of others.~

~They'll turn on you all the same.~

Ambient snorted. ~Ah'm the one who knows how t'live around them, fool. Where th'fuck have you been?~

~With those who need me.~

~Guess Specula an' th'bitch will be needin' someone else, then.~ Ambient rudely sifted through Shadow's surface thoughts. ~Ah meant: where've y'been holed up?~

Shadow pushed Ambient's mind away. ~You will not disturb them. Ryss wants you dead, and I intend to return to her with that result.~

~Not sure how, given yehr situation. As soon as Tod's-man gets bored with yeh, I'm stuffin' myself t'the gills with your guts.~

~You sound like the One.

~ Shadow said with disgust.

Ambient snorted again, now angrily. ~An' what would you know about th'One?~

~How to deal with it. It showed up with a child and attacked us. I dispatched it.~

~Theh'res no way.~ Ambient frowned as it again rooted into Shadow's surface thinking. It paused at the clear mental imagery of Vega - and One. Shadow had indeed encountered the pair.

~Theh'res no way yeh killed him.~

With a deep mental sneer, Shadow forced imagery in Ambient's direction, discomfiting the red Organoid. ~You underestimate me, Ambient. You always have.~

Ambient considered its own miserable loss to One, privately bristling at Shadow's near-graceful recollection of directing the Geno Breaker to rip off the vile Organoid's head.

Which only further cornered Ambient in its silent fury, as it both thought about the Geno Breaker and recalled the Shadow Fox's refusal to cooperate. Organoids alone would never be as powerful as those paired with something else, be it a Zoid or a…

~And you certainly do smell a lot like your pet for one who hates humans.~

Ambient ignored the statement. ~Did you kill th'brat?~

~What does it matter to you?~

Polta stood leaning on a slab of rubble that'd once been part of the Blitz base's walls. He stared into the empty desert night, bleakly smoking the dying remnants of a cigarette.

He wished Alteil and Sara hadn't been at such odds.

But there was nothing he could've done.

.

Plush benches spanned the walls: the lavish, yet empty lounge was one of many used for underground coliseum battles. In the absence of combat they were almost unnaturally silent; a desirable retreat for private conversation.

"I don't get why it matters." Alteil's gruff, often-irascible voice. "No… the Organization now isn't just what it was in the past. But that's not a bad thing. Look at how much we've accomplished in just the last decade."

Polta fondly remembered having his expensive tastes met: Alteil drank pricy, exquisite liquors, and was glad to share them. Polta took a sip from his glass, comfortable in the dim lounge.

Many in Backdraft shared his issue: extreme sensitivity to light, which on a desert planet was somewhat unfortunate. The malady showed up as pale yellow, orange, or red eyes. As gorgeous as they were impractical, it was a clear marker of one thing: Imperial heritage.

Polta watched Alteil restlessly pace.

Alteil's eyes were dark brown - but Alteil didn't have to shield them just to exist.

"People get attached to tradition." Polta offered. "And don't like change. So as long as there's older leadership on the Committee…" He let his words trail with a shrug.

"Most of them still have the right idea. But nothing will ever actually happen until we can get the ZBC - and ZBGF's - boots off of all of our necks."

"They've said they have it under control."

Alteil frowned. "No. The entire North Reach was wiped out in a single, brutal raid last year." He held up a single, angry finger for emphasis. "If we do have people in there, it's useless because it obviously goes both ways. And no one seems to mind!"

"Or…" Polta said quietly, "they have plans you don't know about. You know how some of those families can be."

"Hnh." Alteil finally looked back at the man, mulling his words. "Have you heard anything?"

"Nothing good. And by that, I mean worthwhile." Polta pondered his glass. "But I still don't get the idea that anyone was surprised."

Alteil went silent. He considered the floor in front of him for far too long.

"Cutthroat behavior will be the death of this Organization, Polta. If we can't trust our own men, who can we trust?"

"Wish I knew." Polta sighed, then glanced up with a smirk. "You're a good start though."

Alteil chuffed what may have been a laugh, but shook his head.

"What I do know is that you're not going to solve everything right this second." Polta said. "So relax."

"Easy for you to say."

"And do. That's what this is for." Polta held up his glass slightly, then indicated the adjacent seating with a subtle gesture. "Sit and have a drink with me, mm?"

.

He'd never lied to Alteil, or betrayed the man's trust in him. But both Alteil and Sara had good ideas…

Polta bristled at the thought of Stoller taking pointless risks with Sara. He didn't want to see Sara end up suffering an ignominious death like Alteil had.

Or any death at all, really. He still wasn't even used to the idea of Alteil being past-tense. He'd had so little time to think after fleeing, just-

Polta startled, realizing Zero stood right behind him. He staggered, whipped around, and scowled up at the Organoid.

"Wh-what do you want?!"

~You are lost because you are grieving.~ Zero said, in an observational way that Polta parsed as extremely cold. ~So did you stray out of sadness… or in spite of it?~

Polta stared for several seconds, dealing with the raw emotion stirred by the massive beast's presence alone. Nothing in his lizard brain was okay with Zero being so close. "Mind your own damn business!"

Zero did no such thing. It lowered its stance, turning height into reach as it curved its massive neck and head to squarely face Polta again.

~Answer the question.~

The wintry night was dark and bitterly cold.

Brad's bones hurt and his back stung. He followed the base's wall, having no real destination in-mind other than out of the biting wind. He quickly encountered Naomi's Gun Sniper, which lay curled towards the building, seeking shelter the same way he was.

Brad never really thought much about the Zoid beyond it being a tool and important point of pride of Naomi's. Even the brief thought ended up yet another knife-twist in his troubled mind: he didn't want the Zoid here. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want any of this.

He felt the Gun Sniper acknowledge his presence, but it didn't care.

It wasn't at all like the Fox.

But not even the Fox was like the Fox anymore. Could Brad really blame it? He'd dragged it into this situation all the same.

He turned and pressed his forehead to the frigid wall, eyes shut tightly.

And there he stood, silent.

Quite the span passed before the silence broke with the gnash of approaching talons in snow. Ambient arrived and stood nearby. Its mere existence didn't permit for a free-fall into despair, but it had certainly sensed the plunge in Brad's mood.

~Love.~

With little warning, Ambient pushed its cold snout up under the ripped back of Brad's jacket and started to lick the man's wounds. It wasn't pleasant, but nothing really was right now.

Brad didn't want, or need, to talk. Ambient simply understood.

Brad had been happy. He and Steve may have always had their differences, but they were friends - and Steve undoubtedly had changed Brad's life for the better.

They didn't have to, but the Toros family had unflinchingly accepted him. Not just as a gun for hire, but as a person. They made him a part of their messy lives, and he'd found he didn't mind. Bit's later intrusion, at first unwelcome, became just another part of the puzzle.

Then a rowdy night with Naomi showed him lust could become something a lot more complicated, and everything was great.

He lingered in the memory.

He'd been happy.

Until he and Naomi were ambushed, and Backdraft ruined everything.

His chest hurt with more than a physical pain.

After experiencing the Fox's denial, he knew he couldn't just blame everyone else anymore. Cornered by the reality of the situation, he had to acknowledge: he'd been a part of ruining everything, too.

He thought about the Berserk Fury: bitterly, longingly, terrified.

At least he didn't feel alone. He certainly wasn't, with Ambient there.

But he didn't want to be here, in the cold, feeling trapped and at the mercy of unreasonable monsters.

What did he want, though?

He wanted to be happy again. He wanted to go home. He wanted the people he cared about to be safe.

Brad twitched against the same fiery twinge he'd felt not long before.

Ambient gave Brad an affectionate nip, ducked its head out of his jacket, then arched its neck around to look up at the man. Its emerald optics gleamed in the dark.

That sharp, desperate pull of being needed… Ambient relished it. Organoids alone generally didn't have goals beyond survival. But with a partner, they gained - and eagerly shared - aspirations.

Many people assumed Brad was ultimately after money. After all, he often said as much.

But that wasn't it. He wasn't after money, he was after what money ultimately afforded:

Power, and control.

Layon grumbled as he watched Ambient stalk away, dashing his hopes of the red Organoid relenting and helping him.

Not terribly interested in admitting defeat, Layon wandered back to his workbench, brows bunching with frustration as he pondered the tools at his disposal.

Though he hadn't been fond of the pressure at Backdraft, he was fond of what access it had afforded him to equipment. Some basic, some not… very little of it was here. He'd sunk basically all of his remaining money into his Great Whale King. And it'd been destroyed.

Green eyes half-lidded, somber.

Destroyed for a good cause, but-

The Shadow Fox suddenly growled. Layon threw it a glance.

"What?"

In the garage-hangar's lighting, he saw a metallic blue glimmer. The flash of rapid movement - tiny wings. Layon followed it with his eyes.

Then two things happened almost at once: the Shadow Fox shrieked, and a tremendous weight hit Layon from behind.