"He wants you to steal him a pulsar receiver?!"

I was currently reconvening with my allies at the mess hall over some rations, informing them of how my meeting with the chief of the Limpiadores went. It was late in the evening, and I was a little worn down after the trip back, but I had to report what had transpired. Sabrine Grace, Doctor Mofuni, and Matthew Bridger had been listening keenly to the details of my meeting, and all three were aghast for very different and equally valid reasons.

"That oily hog," Sabrine gritted with hatred, nearly about to curl her metal fork with one hand. "The nerve of him sending anyone to City Three for such a greedy reason."

"He's an idiot if he thinks the Combine won't trace her back to us if they somehow catch her," Matthew said worryingly.

"Worse yet," Doctor Mofuni said, "is that retrieving a pulsar receiver is next to impossible at best and suicide at worst. And even worse than that, if Krystal were to actually snag one―which like I said, is practically impossible―there's no way she could get it back without smudging it up. It's a very delicate piece of hardware! Her dirty hands alone could sully its highly valuable intricacies."

Matthew and Sabrine both glared at our cognitively challenged friend in silence, and I too did not appreciate Mofuni's insensitive loose tongue at this moment. However, he was still one of the most valuable people on the planet I was slowly coming to realise, so we were forced to bear with him in a situation like this. His knowledge was vital since I didn't fully know what a 'pulsar receiver' even was.

"He told me that he only wants one 'mostly' intact," I elaborated, resting my elbows on the table. "And besides, I read his mind numerous times; he doesn't expect me to come back alive. He just wants to see if I can do as he asks, and would be indifferent if I were killed."

"And how exactly does he expect you to pull this hypothetical errand off for him?" Matthew asked, his highly irritated tone more so directed and the rebels' leader rather than at me.

"He didn't directly tell me, but I got the notion that he could tell that I have contented with danger many times before and survived," I said. "This is essentially his way of testing me."

Sabrine wrinkled her nose with angst. "On that, he may be right, Honey, but it's the principle that's being violated. Sending a young girl out there to do his dirty work for the sake of it. For hearty laughs! Let that son of a bitch send his goons over here and try to take our lovable sociopath. Our automated sentries are primmed and in working order, right Mat?"

Matthew seemed a little startled by Sabrine's strategy, though he nodded. "Yes. We're not defenceless, but not invulnerable either. Should the Limpiadores eventually discover those pesky blind spots…"

I couldn't help but briefly skim their thoughts. Both Sabrine and Matthew had seemed to be at the conclusion that I hadn't accepted the Chief's deal and were promptly planning for a possible attack, though Mofuni's mind was elsewhere during this minute and thinking of cravings such as candy floss. That was at least enough to make me smile a tad before I laid out my true terms to the other two.

"They won't attack once I bring back what the Chief demands," I said, making the declaration that I had always intended to follow through on what was tasked to me. Matthew and Sabrine then both looked at me with a mutual look of disturbance.

"What?" Sabrine grimaced, baffled by my implication.

"I mean that I'm going to City Three," I clarified. "The supply chain needs to be restored, and Doctor Mofuni is too valuable to turn over."

"Honey, please, don't even entertain him," Sabrine pleaded. "He'll sick his gunmen on us regardless if you go and actually get back what he wants. I'm not willing to let one of our potentially best fighters go out into the Combine's domain and get herself skewered. We'll need you here."

"He is a bully, but he has revealed to be willing to see if I can pull this off," I said. "I have to go for the good of the town. It may be our only shot to revive our depleting stock. There is no other way around this from where I stand."

Sabrine looked like she wanted to argue but hesitated. She instead looked to Matthew for support and only received a complacent shrug. He didn't like the idea either, but we didn't have many options left. Having to face this grim reality herself, Sabrine rested her forehead on her palm while also shaking it in dismay. "You heroic types are gonna be what finally kills me…" she muttered, pulling down her lower eyelids as she raised her head again. "I suppose there's no stopping you, Krystal. The vorts must truly be onto something with you."

I smiled tepidly. "I strive to not disappoint," I said, grateful to receive her clearance―even if it was adjoined along with a form of surrender. While Mofuni had seemingly nodded off for the moment with his head lying on the table, just shy of using his food as a pillow, I kept my focus on the two others. "The Chief said I have three days, starting tomorrow, to get what he needs and come back. I'm confident that I can do it all in one day, or two at most."

Matthew and Sabrine looked unconvinced. "That all depends on where you'll even find a pulsar receiver in the city," Matthew said. "And how do you plan to get there? It would take you more than a day to get there on foot if you don't encounter any trouble along the way, as most refugees most certainly do when travelling here."

"The Chief already has an escort prepared for me," I informed. "A man named Dejon will take me to the city; he is an undercover agent working inside the city's police force and performs regular patrols outside of city limits among other jobs. He will take me there in his transport."

Matthew and Sabrine both dawned an identical look of discomfort, addled at how settled I already was on this plan before even coming to talk to them. "Well, how awfully considerate of him," Sabrine said a little snidely, though her resentment did not persist knowing who the designated passenger was. "I certainly hope you know what you're doing, Honey. The city's a highly dangerous place; anything that's out of place will be deposed with excessive force."

"I've helped to bring a crucial supply depot full of soldiers to its knees; how much more dangerous could the city be?"

Right away I knew I asked an incredibly arrogant question as Sabrine and Matthew both exchanged sombre looks that I could feel transmitted a great amount of tragedy. I actually hoped to make an attempt to amend myself before Doctor Mofuni suddenly awoke from his spontaneous dinnertime nap, flying his head up so fast he nearly forced himself to fall backwards on his chair, prompting the other two to reflexively catch him. "N-No, oh great Saint Johnson, postcard bombs are still a great invest…huh."

Doctor Mofuni blinked each of his hazy eyes individually as he gradually regained his consciousness. "Oh dear, my bad everyone. I realize that I haven't made my Postum with my dinner," he said, rubbing his eyes as he scooted his chair back, making a loud grinding sound on the floor. "I think I'll be off in my think tank if that's all right with everyone. This is the hour that the demons come back. Got to keep 'em busy…"

"Wait, Doctor," I said, grabbing his hand. "Before you do, I have yet to get a clear answer. What is a pulsar receiver?"

Doctor Mofuni stared stonily at me for a few seconds before his eyes flashed with remembrance―perhaps the realization that he had been participating in a rather important meeting that pertained to the future of Red Bay before he had dozed off. "Oh, yeah, that thing," he slurred slightly. "So…pulse guns. You've seen those, right?"

"Yes. A few times," I nodded, anxious that his waning focus would impede on his memory and provide a false description.

"Good," Mofuni said with a closed smile, deliberately widening his eyes to resist falling asleep again. "The Combine love their pulse weapons; they prrrractically slap 'em on anything that's not nailed down. They got 'em on their soldiers, their cars, their ships, even their faces if you're ever lucky to meet one like that," he said, still keeping himself relatively well put together all things considered. "For their bigger, heavy-duty pulse weapons, the Combine save on time by creating renewable ammunition rather than relying on external drums of cells that need reloading when spent. All it takes is a moment or two to recharge and you've got a new full case worth of bolts that can tear you in two in one clean shot."

"Renewable ammunition?" I wondered, legitimately curious about the logistics of this technology.

"Yes, ma'am," Doctor Mofuni nodded, catching himself from hitting his forehead on the table in staving drowsiness. "No doubt he wants to make good use of a bolt dispenser like that. No idea for what exactly, but it would most definitely be within his character."

I had now grown quite apprehensive about the idea of the sleazy Limpiadores chief posing a source of what was essentially an infinite supply of ammunition. And if that wasn't enough, I would end up being a catalyst to bring about that possibility. Even so, I felt compelled to follow through with this. If there was the slimmest chance that this would renew Red Bay's stock by even an inch of a margin in the immediate term, then that was worth doing it for alone.

Sabrine looked so distressed at what was being discussed she almost looked like she wanted to retreat into her own Think Tank―her thoughts sure elucidated that much. "I think we've reached a resolution tonight, whether we like it or not," she said, rubbing her forehead dismally as she turned her weary gaze to me. "You better get to bed early tonight then, sweetheart. You've got your work cut out for you tomorrow, so be sure to get plenty of rest."

"I'll make it back," I reassured, hardly even needing telepathy to know what Sabrine's largest concerns were. She smiled wearily, appearing to find some amount of solace in my sincere, albeit uncertain sentiment. Even Matthew looked at me with a little hope in his eyes.

"Yes. Indeed. We're all rootin' for you, kid," Doctor Mofuni said with lethargic conviction, right before he pulled out a pair of large scissors he had apparently been concealing in his coat, which made the others pull back a bit with uneasiness. "Now, dearest, just in the astronomically minute chance that you actually don't make it back, would you mind if I had just a little snippet of your fur? From that luscious tail of yours specifically. I'll need a sufficient sample if I am to study from you should you be reduced to mulch during tomorrow's trip to the city."