Phase 1
Episode 1: Operational
Prologue
"What's the situation on Fortuna?"
"The rebels' attacks have blown massive holes into our lines. They have artillery dominance and we have no air support available. As long as they keep this up, it's a losing fight.
"We can not lose the Northern Forests! Do we have any Special Forces units in the area that can get there ASAP?"
"CSP has an SVU ready at Tacker Field. Callsign Nova 7."
"A White Out unit? That'll do. Bring 'em up."
…
"Sir, Nova 7-1 is up on Line 2."
"Transfer them to Red. Nova 7, this is Cornerian Command. Do you read, over?"
"This is Bones, we copy and we've been cleared to assist. You have control. 7-0 is backseating."
"Good to have you with us, Bones. The situation on Fortuna is dire. The rebels continue to hammer our lines. They assumed control of our communications and supply routes as well as enjoying artillery and general firepower dominance. We have nothing in the area to support them with. Your first priority will be to eliminate their artillery and then assist in securing our lines. Your secondary priority is to keep the morale of the troops in check. I'm arranging a transport for your team to get there. Further details will be given on your way there, over."
"Copy all, we'll get it done. Nova 7, we are a go!"
"Red connection terminated, Commander."
"Good luck Nova 7. By golly, you will need it…"
…
…
…
That ringing never gets gold. No matter where it is. Be it in a tall, dark and abandoned subway tunnel or inside of a blackened crater made somewhere in the ground just outside of a forest clearing. A crater that is barely distinguishable from the dozens of others. Aside from the fact that this one is still fresh and smoking. It is always something with explosions with him. First that cave-in, then the building dropping on him and now he got hit almost directly by an artillery shell.
The strong smell of burned flesh and signed hair fills up all of his nostrils. Looking at his hands, he can see fresh new burn wounds on his left thumb and index finger. He licks them but not to soothe the pain or burning feeling in any way, but to make sure that when he puts out the small, almost candle-like fire that is turning a few of his lovely red mustache hairs black.
A simple pinch and it is out. Out of instinctual fear, all of his hair stands up right. A massive influx of adrenaline keeps him standing upright but still. Then he breathes out. His body relaxes and the hairs go down. His eyes dart around with purpose, seeking anything useful about his environment and himself. Aside from those minor burns, he is unharmed.
Miraculously even. It seems that his new outfit has prevented any splinters or shrapnel from piercing his vital organs. Plucking one out however shows how lucky he was; it is a nasty piece of work for sure.
Then his eyes spot his sniper rifle on the floor. It is missing its magazine but otherwise looks fine still. If a little beaten up. With control over his motor functions returning to him, he bends over and picks it up. Then he looks up at the edge of the crater and he starts hearing the gunfire resume. Better join the cacophony as soon as possible; maybe he can add a few notes to the music theory book.
He puts his rifle on his back as it unceremoniously hits the radio. The short but awfully loud feedback feeding right into his ear canal lets him know it is still operational. While uttering a snarky remark about how he is happy that the device is still alive as well, he climbs out of his confinement and is greeted by a less than appealing image.
Before him, just several hundred meters ahead, lies the trench system they were sent out to hold. It looks like a set of eaten bare racks of ribs. And it is about to fall. With gunfire already visible from the system, which means that the enemy is already inside. A terrible situation for the defenders, especially as a faint and dull explosion rings out in the distance. A mighty plume of smoke can be seen erupting from the barrel of a howitzer. One can follow the projectile as it arcs right down into the last remaining Cornerian hold-out positions. The merciless fury vaporizes those too close and blows away those a little further. The breaking point has been reached. A wall of sound only composed of screams hit him as he can see soldiers flee by the dozen.
He however grabs his rifle, pulls the bolt back to check if it is loaded and is visibly only marginally disappointed it is not. Without any other magazines on his person, he puts it back on his back and pulls out his revolver. It is still loaded so it will have to do.
"Bastards." he utters before dusting off his right shoulder in defiance of the fear he felt when that shell smashed the last grain of morale left of those poor fellows.
He has sympathies for them; they are beyond green and already thrust into battle. Some would say there is no better teacher in war, but sometimes those people are wrong.
"Still in one piece I see?" says a feminine, slightly overly acted southern accented voice suddenly from his left.
"Ah, you know me Patch. Explosions don't kill me. They just hurt me."
"Need a patch for your booboo, Sir?" the feminine voice chuckles.
"As long as I got you, no need."
A nasty yet meaty crack comes from her forced neck adjustment so the Specialist can do her thing better. He internally forgives her for that. Given the current situation, it is surprising only a firm adjustment of the joints was necessary.
"Trying to make me jealous again?" chuckles a different feminine voice to his right in response to his earlier remark.
"Not on purpose anyway. How's the arm?"
"The band with "syringes" caught most of the blow I believe."
"Please Kip, stop holding that against me will ya? They looked like syringes from that distance." he sighs annoyed, yet still enjoying the banter.
The sound of tearing velcro can be easily heard so close by as a fabric band is tossed away; nothing was left of it anyway. She puts a new one on and puts the throwing knives back in their holders. She also tightens the band to cover up a long cut to stop the bleeding.
"Already regretting putting so many women in your team, darling?" a third feminine voice, this one with a clearly more Lylatian accent, coming from Kip's right chimes in.
"Every. Single. Day. And yet, I wouldn't have it any other way. Is your foot okay?"
"Just peachy. It is itching; both for revenge and because those wounds are too numerous and not that deep."
"Soon enough Cal. Soon enough."
Revenge is not only felt in her toes though, as her fingers are hungering for it too as they assist the hand in pumping the shotgun they are holding. No empty shell flies out; this was just chambering the first round.
After that however, Trevor half-expected another voice to pop out. Like it happened a few times before. Instead, there is silence. He looks to his left, where he expected it to come from and sees no one beside Patches. Then he leans back to check if the guy is playing some silly game. Not seeing him there, he checks behind him and into the crater.
There he finds a dull-white male vulpine, dotted in natural rust-colored spots. His camo, sleeveless overshirt has several holes in it with burn marks around the edges. Luckily his body armor managed to take the brunt of the punishment. His blue-ish gray pants are not looking much better either, especially his belt that has been torn at the buckle. With the gold-colored buckle itself thoroughly messed up. Good thing too, because that thing was a crime against fashion and common sense.
What is not common is the tube he has stuck up his right nostril and running down over his shoulder to his armor's backplate. Which has a strangely triangular, metal backpack attached to it. The wire leads into it.
The man itself is doing his best opossum impression. Trevor however, is less than impressed.
"PAL, give him a shock will you?"
"A-firm-a-tive!" a computerized voice booms from the backpack underneath the "corpse" of the vulpine, sounding both mechanical and maniacal at the same time.
However, the vulpine does not need it anymore as he is miraculously resurrected by the grace of not wanting to barbeque his own intestines. He then laments that Trevor is no fun at all. To which the Sergeant warns that that shock is still a possibility, which straightens the vulpine out right away. With some assistance, Trevor helps his last team member out of the crater so he can rejoin the rest.
"Seeking attention again, 7-5?" asks Patches, far less banter-y and straight up hostile to the white vulpine.
"Never as much as you do." he fusses right back.
"Cut it out you two!" Trevor then barks to break them up before pointing at the artillery piece in the distance.
"Instead, give me some suggestions on how to blow that thing to kingdom come."
1 - New Meat
1 hour earlier…
"You'd think they would really have their priorities straight after the previous catastrophe." Patches throws into the group after a moment of quiet as she puts her knee-high platform boots on the conference table before her.
Boots that are brand-spanking-new but do not have their intended usage yet. Somehow even more impractical looking than the previous set, soon enough they have their usage. So far the only thing giving away a potential secondary usage, are the soles that imminent a bright blue light.
However, it is not the only new addition to her outfit she brought. She has managed to trade in her old police uniform for something that fits much better to her current occupation. The dark and light shades of blue have been exchanged for the military green and the gray-scaled camouflage pattern. Just like she wanted. And it is therefore a good thing it looks better than whatever Trevor is still wearing.
It is not fully completed yet, but it is still very usable. At very least, she no longer looks like her old self. A past she would rather forget. The only thing she does not want to forget, is that patch on her left arm. Showing off her rank she gained back then. Now reflecting her Specialist status. Along with the patch she kept on her pants. Purely for ecstatic reasons.
And now she is here. What a rise to prominence. From a dirty, bug-ridden metro tunnel, to practically being the guest of honor in their very own, if loaned-from-someone-else, ship. Which reminds her:
"They really like their luxury, don't they?" Patches comments as she hangs back into her accommodating chair before using her foot to spin herself around in a child-like display, to the amusement of the other ladies present in the room.
As next to her, a kangaroo crosses her legs in comfortable acknowledgment. The boots she is wearing are much more sensible but then again, one cannot change perfection. And her outfit has not changed at all either. Revealing yet sensible. The only visible change is the logo of Nova 7 applied to her elbow protector.
"Heck yeah they do! I should've applied for the Fleet instead of the army." Kip then comments, leaning back as well with her hands behind her head and staring at the ceiling.
Neither of them are wrong if an opulent environment was something they were looking for. The inside of this Fleet's transport ship is everything the inside of a regular Army transport is not. It is more comparable to a floating conference room. Very spacious, having a modern decor and styling, with furniture for all, Net access, providing a great view of Lylat and above all it is very quiet. Only if one were to really focus could they hear the soft humming of the engines. Which is more like a gentle massage chair or something one could fall asleep to.
"Oh please you two. We all know why you picked the gritty, hard life of a soldier. It's because you cannot keep your hands off of my poor foxy boy." Calamity chimes in with her back turned to them, with an almost audible smirk whilst filing her fingernails.
Both Kip and Patches turn to fuss at her.
"Pot calling the kettle black much there, Cal?" Kip counters.
"And here I was thinking you stopped being such a Jealous Jane." Patches adds, with an air of feigned disappointment.
"Just because I apologized, doesn't mean I still wouldn't kick your head off if you actually did touch him." she assures calmly.
Then she tosses the file away and turns to them. Her expression drips with a business attitude and does not fit her attire whatsoever. Unless one would call a moss green crop top, a dark brown, modern take on a loincloth and one singular silver glove proper office attire.
"Besides, we aren't here for our enjoyment. We are here because we were chosen for this very special first mission as a fivesome."
Then, without changing her expression or general body language, she reaches her hand out to the table on which is placed her non-alcoholic Long Island iced tea with extra ice. The glass is quite thin yet tall and it is decorated like they were at a tropical summer beach. Or "Zoness on crack" if Kip's observation is to be believed. She takes the glass and brings the straw to her lips before taking very quick slurps. All without breaking eye contact.
Then there is a crack in her expressed seriousness before she has no other choice then to break out into a giggle. However, as she does, the liquid she has just sucked up through the straw wants to come out of a different orifice than it is supposed to. With a sound sitting somewhere between choking and sneezing, she tries her best to keep it in.
Patches and Kip can no longer hold back either. Whereas Kip starts laughing out loud, Patches can keep it somewhat under wraps, also concerned with Calamity who is slowly turning a little red. However, the canine has had it worse before so she gets over this quickly. It is but a momentary inconvenience.
"Sorry Cal, I didn't mean to laugh so hard. But your face was just priceless." Kip apologies as she wipes a tear away.
"No offense taken. I thought you were gonna break much earlier though."
"What do you mean?"
Calamity puts the drink back down on the table.
"I saw your expression change, ever so slightly when I mentioned fivesome. Still not a fan huh?"
Kip shrugs indifferently.
"I don't know him too well yet. He's been with the team for what… a week?"
"Make that three months." Patches sighs, now out of the funny mood, putting her head into her own hand as she leans on the table.
Hearing anything related to him instantly drops her levels of joy to a minimum. The last thing she needs on this upcoming mission is to have him around her closer than very far away.
"Come on Patch. So your introduction to him was a little rough. He's a good guy. At least in the field he is…"
Kip tries to put a positive spin on it but in the end, she does not know for sure. So far, the new guy has only gone through training. Rigorous and very challenging training, no doubt. But being out on the battlefield is something different. And despite the experience Trevor claims he has, that experience was gained in a different environment and with different people. And she has to admit, the first impressions the guy left on her were not top class either.
"No Kip! I don't like that guy one bit. Don't you remember what that bastard said to me?"
Both Kip and Calamity know exactly what she is talking about. And although both try to see a brighter or redeeming side, it is not possible. The kangaroo has had her verbal encounter with him already. He straight up told her that her name, Kip, means "chicken" in his native language. Not in private however, but when the other Nova 7 members were present. No whisper was used. He did not even lower his voice out of common courtesy. Whereupon she found her bed filled with feathers a week later. Thankfully, Trevor could not appreciate this. And despite the new guy denying it was him, his facade was paper thin. So there was an "apology" afterwards.
The canine herself was also a victim of his verbal pillory. Criticizing everything from her outfit, looks, height and to the very way she conducted herself. Even what she did in her free time was not spared. So she did not spare him at all when after his tirade was over, she nearly spun his head around 360 degrees she slapped him so hard. In full view of everyone. Then she walked away and refused to elaborate further.
"Thought so." the bunny finishes.
So Patches is correct in her not particularly liking this new guy. Potential experience be damned. But whereas with Kip and Calamity he came around to apologize off of his own accord. An apology which felt somewhat legitimate but his behavior remained poor.
"And he still hasn't apologized for that. Mister high and mighty… jackass."
"Don't get too worked up, Patch. We'll see how he does in the field. If he does it right, he'll have to adjust to us." Calamity assures.
"And what if he doesn't?"
"Then we'll allow you to kick him out of the base. Personally and literally." she simply shrugs.
That cheers Patches up. Especially the dumbfounded look the dumbass would have etched onto his face when he is thrown to the curb. Because there is a rule regarding new members. If the majority of the team wants someone gone, say in a 3 in favor to 1 not in favor situation, then the 1 loses out. Now there is literally nothing else on her mind and it makes her smile dreamily.
However, her daydreaming is cut short when the door to the conference room opens and Trevor steps out. Patches instantly snaps out of her trance and is the first to stand and salute. With a stern tone, as is protocol, she tells the lower classes to do the same. Shifting from informal to military formal is somewhat hard when the atmosphere was nothing but banter and wishing ill upon those they do not like. But in the end, all get it done.
Trevor approaches the table and gives a quick salute so the rest can take their seats again. As he does, he notices Calamity's drink on the table. But also the ones from the other two. The three notice their mistake quickly however and take their drinks off the table, which pleases the Sergeant.
"Morning Gents. Right… glad we all still remember the etiquette."
He flips a switch underneath his side of the table, revealing it to be a Multi-TableTM as most of the inner surface slides away to make way for a screen. Which lights up to reveal a digital grid. From it, holographically displayed are their current location as well as their destination. With a tap of his finger, the hologram zooms in on the location where their mission goal is.
"On to it; I will not lie. This is not what we are meant for. We are not a unit that someone decides to use to plug a hole into a line they are too stupid to hold themselves. We are a Special Vanguard Unit. Nova 7. However, the Major has approved this so we are in it for real."
"Sir, if I may?" Kip interrupts with her hand up, to which Trevor nods.
"Thank you. Do you know why the Major gave the go-ahead?"
"I can only guess. The unit that is manning this line is green as grass, that could be it. However, from what I heard from Command in their distress call, our priority is to secure the trench system's communications. Radio, Net, telephone, computer… even their fax and paperwork if necessary. If the enemy gets their hands on it, it will be a costly disaster for morale and reputation. They needed the best ASAP. And we were closest by."
"So we are plugging up a hole, but not in a line. We are plugging the holes that could lead to any leaks of important stuff." concludes Patches.
"Correct. And nor the Board, nor Command wants that. Hence why we are going in. Plus, we now have someone who can retroactively remove any digital leaks. I have cleared Phantom to come along with us for this mission."
There is not a lot of jubilation coming from three ladies present in the room. Trevor knows that his decision to include him in this mission is controversial but all new members must have had their baptism by fire before any definitive conclusion may be drawn. He turns back to the door and tells the person behind it to come in. The door opens and in he steps.
Nova 7-5, Phantom. Otherwise known as Roger Dillinger. The final piece of the Nova 7 puzzle. An old squadmate of Trevor back in the Macbeth days. A massive cynical stick in the mud, a back-up sniper with a skill close but not equal to Trevor and an even bigger tech-nerd. A little deranged on top of that but overall quite a solid soldier. He quit the military about a year before Trevor was supposed to be transferred to Katina. Before the Aparoids started invading. In the meantime, in order to sate his tech fetish, he scoured Sector X for something big. And he found something that he brought with him since then as his backpack and pretty much a big part of him. Which also means that it is here with them right now.
From his backplate, something can be heard detaching. Now hovering earnestly to his right, is a triangular block of green-ish metal. The size of a medium sized backpack. Unofficially fitting the non-existent position of Nova 7-6; PAL. The tamed, renegade artificial intelligence with a fierce hatred for Aparoids.
His name is no acronym at all; it is simply spelled like that. The metal triangle has rounded edges with flip-out straps at the back to make sure it can function as a backpack. While its "face" looks like an old-fashioned radio. Seemingly inspired by Trevor's ancient bronze antique. The speakers function as its voice box, where it puts together pre-recorded syllables to create words and sentences. In tone that is both neutral and slightly unhinged at the same time. Especially when it comes to Aparoids or perceived enemies. The knobs are simply bolts in this case, to make sure that the front plate stays on in the middle. And for aesthetic purposes. Finally, the circular display where one would then normally see on what frequency they were on, has been entirely replaced by a red orb which lights up when he speaks and sees.
Phantom does not really talk about how he got PAL "domesticated" but he did according to himself. Which so far has not been contradicted. The chain of command had been laid bare to the A.I. and it did not disagree as long as it was fine with his "master". Which worried Trevor somewhat but he trusted the white vulpine. Otherwise he would not have asked him to join Nova 7 in the first place.
It has now been three months since Phantom and PAL joined Nova 7 and they have been fully integrated into the unit after training was completed. Professionally that is; on a personal level the other three do not think highly of him. For obvious reasons.
Attitude is tolerated within certain limits in the team. And thinking all high and mighty about oneself, even if they really might be, is not something that leaves you in good graces. In particular when one starts throwing insults willy-nilly. Even if they were meant as attempts at banter because "that's how it was done back on Macbeth", if the feeling is not reciprocated, then it is just a bad thing to say.
Especially with Patches, who despises men who act all high and mighty. Thinking they are the number one prick in the room. She knows what men like that are capable of. Trevor showed her there were exceptions but Phantom is definitely not one so far.
He is here with them however. He takes his seat as he is supposed to and does not make any eye contact with the rest of the team. Not wanting to start anything in front of Trevor. Who gives Phantom the abbreviated run-down. To which Phantom, having learned not a lot from the dismissiveness given from his teammates, replies smugly that he can do it remotely without issues. As long as someone manages to be at the communications physically.
"That is where Patches comes in. First order of business is to get there. I assume we'll be going into hyperdrive soon. Considering the Admiral wants his vessel back at some point. Our secondary priority is to keep the morale and the line together. Why that isn't the main priority as well is not important and not for us to ponder over. At least, right now. We can dissect it after we are all back here on this ship alive and well. Understood?"
All four sound off positively.
"Good. Any questions?"
Patches raises her hand.
"Does it have to do with the mission?" Trevor asks, a little suspicious that it is not about the mission at all.
"No Sir…"
Her hand lowers. Trevor sees the way this is done and gets the meaning.
"Understood Specialist. We can discuss it between the two of us then. The rest of you!" he then shouts loud and clear.
"Nova 7, get yourself asses into the armory. Collect your gear, bring what you need to bring. I will meet all of you in the vehicle bay. Dismissed!"
All teammates rise up from their chairs, salute and pretty much race each other to get to the armory first. All expect Trevor and Patches. It seems his XO had something she wanted to share but if it was not about the mission, then what is it about? Trevor has a hunch. He leans with his behind against the table and presses the button underneath it to turn off the holographic display as Patches comes closer to him.
"Patch. You wanted to ask me something. Or rather, discuss something with me?"
"You do know how to read me." she chuckles as she approaches him.
However, then she turns as serious as the situation is to her.
"Listen, I have a bad feeling about letting 7-5 in on this mission. It might be better to wait for an easier, by the books one. And I must add, which I've done before a lot of times already, he is not part of the team at all. He is good at our profession I suppose, but we cannot stand him as a person."
"We? Or just you?"
"No, Trevor. We. Mainly me of course but I talked about it with the girls. They do not like him very much either."
Trevor wants to contradict her like before but he fails to find the right words for it. Because he knows what she says is true. Phantom has been his usual pain-in-the-ass self, like he was on Macbeth. Despite his advice to tone it down. He himself can tank it but the other three not so much. However, Patches is not done yet. She has another gripe with the new guy but it is not about him himself, but with his "toy". But in contrast with how she was talking about Phantom, bringing this up seems to embarrass her somewhat. Judging by her stance and her averting her face away.
"And uh… I still don't trust that floating thing."
Trevor starts to dismissively shakes his head.
"He is not an Aparoid, Patch."
"It's a machine!" she manages to blurt out after trying so hard to mince her words before.
"He is a valued member of this team. He may have had contact with Aparoids before, but he rejected them. He probably hates those awful creepy crawlies more than you and I combined."
Patches however remains stubborn about her belief that PAL is secretly something more evil and is simply biding its time to strike.
"I'm aware how your interactions with Aparoids has changed your perception of machines and A.I.. But I trust him."
"You trust that?"
"Just as I trust you. A.I. can be hacked, but people can be manipulated or blackmailed. All I can do, is assume my trust ends up where it won't be broken. And also because I know two things; One: all Aparoids are dead. Two: we are still together and will stay that way." he promises.
Hearing him say that somewhat melts her icy, hard stance on this situation. It is only a suspicion she has about PAL. She has not seen him do anything odd or out of the ordinary. Aside from his vocal tone when he is either talking about the destruction of Nova 7's enemies, which is at least off-puttingly jingoistic. And yet he is anything but mean or dismissive to her. Still she cannot shake this knot in her stomach that is tied each time she hears him puzzle together a sentence. It is not sitting well with her at all.
"As for Phantom…" Trevor continues on a more serious, if slightly disappointed tone.
Whether that is because he dislikes the rocky relationship between the two or is disappointed in one of them specifically, is unknown.
"I'm aware of the situation. I want to give him one chance. To shine. That means that we have to put our personal situation aside for this operation. The last thing we need is you two getting katty with each other."
Patches wants to interrupt but Trevor stops her in her tracks simply by holding his finger up. He knows what she was about to say.
"No matter who started it! We are professionals, Ashley."
He crosses his arms and stops leaning against the table.
"Please remember that. I will be the annoying teacher and separate you two. No matter your rank. And try to at least remember his name also. He's 7-5 only in battle when reporting his status, to Nelson, the Lieutenant, the Major or anyone higher than him not part of this team. Am I clear?" he says sternly.
Patches is taken aback by his professional military attitude about this but it sinks in that she is now part of something big. Which has its own cogs and ways of doing things. It still takes some time getting used to. Especially when it comes to the seriousness that Trevor now exudes more and more.
"Y-yeah… I understand Trevor. Crystal clear."
Her face droops down.
"Good. And next time I hear you say the name of that dumb bitch again, I will smack you harder than I did with Phantom when I found out what he called you that day."
Positively surprised, she looks back up and sees the person she met about nine months ago in those dingy, dark and Aparoid-infested metro tunnels. That smirk, the pure smug and sarcastic attitude oozing from his expression and body language, pointing out the pun she unwittingly made regarding a certain blue vixen and now having the knowledge that he is aware of what that white fox bastard said about her…
"Regardless of that rank… you'll always remain you, won't you?"
He winks at her.
"I was never planning to be anyone else. I now more often than not have to hide it to look impressive and leader-ey so to say. But I'm still me. And you are still my +1. Please don't tear him or yourself apart in the meantime, yeah? Now, get your bunny ass to the armory and load up."
All cheered up, she nods and energetically salutes before departing to the armory. Leaving Trevor behind on his own in the conference room. He once again leans against the table before out loudly stating that he should not forget those rifle grenades. They might just come in handy. He then chuckles to himself, knowing full well he will forget them at some point, before leaving the room himself to gear up as well.
What he did not see, was something in the upper northwest corner of the room. There is a spherical mirror placed, which had a barely noticeable glowing red line around it. Once he told himself that he should not forget them, the red suddenly went out. Only to be replaced with a green flicker. Almost like a sign of confirmation…
2 - To The Wolves
Back at the present…
…
"Seeking attention again, 7-5?"
"Never as much as you do."
"Cut it out you two!"
"Instead, give me some suggestions of how to blow that thing to kingdom come."
- Herding
PAL's red glass eye then audibly blinks before it decouples with a hiss from Phantom's backplate. The machine then hovers over Phantom's shoulders and goes around the team before it stops next to Trevor. He turns around and opens up his back hatch, where like a dispenser a few rifle grenades already roll out. Along with their corresponding thick blank rounds. Trevor smiles and picks one of each.
"Thank you PAL, great suggestion. And given how you were the one to have the idea, I'll have you help me."
Trevor does not care where he got them from; it is too useful right now. So he gestures to the machine to follow him as he takes a few steps forward. Then he loads the blank round into his rifle and takes the silencer off of his rifle like it is a cork. He can see the inscription he put on there. Another reminder of his more childish years, now very vague and barely as red as it used to be. It is still legible; the word directly referencing a fragment from an old movie, where some guy donkey-kicks another guy into a big hole in the ground. Presumably the hole is bottomless.
He has a good chuckle over it before he puts the silencer on the ground for now before screwing on the rifle grenade. PAL has stayed silent and hovering at the exact distance he was from Trevor. No matter in what direction Trevor moved. Then Trevor jams the butt of his rifle into the ground and holds the barrel at an angle before him.
"Right then. PAL, give me an angle and a direction. I want to see that artillery piece destroyed, its ammo ablaze, its crew dead or a combination of all three. What can you get me?"
He does not need long to calculate that.
"El-e-va-tion. 79 de-grees from 0 de-grees hor-i-zon-tal. Di-rec-tion 32."
Trevor follows the directions given, adjusting where PAL says it is necessary until it is just right.
"Perfect. From this distance, do you think I'll hit that?"
"96,7% chance. Lit-tle wind. Po-ten-tial dis-per-sion is ac-count-ed for."
"I'll take my chances then. Fire in the hole!" he then screams before pulling the trigger.
A thick sound, like a tennis ball hitting the receiving racquet, is heard as the grenade is launched up in the air. Nova 7 collectively looks up almost in sync and follows the fired projectile as it becomes smaller and smaller the further up it goes. Until it is not even a black dot anymore.
Trevor gets up from his kneeled position and extracts the empty blank round from his rifle. Inquiring when the impact will be, PAL replies that in about five seconds there will be carnage. Pleasantly surprised at the machine's lust for destruction, he looks back momentarily and just chuckles.
"A machine after my own heart." he comments just before the rifle grenade impacts with the ammunition stockpile that was not so professionally stocked up next to the cannon.
With, from a distance, a rather muted explosion, the rifle grenade detonates. For a few moments, there is not much going on. But then a fire starts spreading and starts to ignite the shells. In the blink of an eye, a massive fire sprouts from the stockpile like a geyser. Then the base of this fire spire detonates violently, vaporizing everything and everyone in its immediate vicinity. A bit of revenge for all the carnage this cannon has brought upon the Cornerian lines and its soldiers. Now a merciless fury on their side vaporizes those too close and blows away those a little further.
"Kaboom!" Trevor exclaims joyously as the rest of Nova 7 celebrates with him.
He gestures to all four to come closer to him so they can see it properly. Patches in particular rushes over to his side and uses the monocular to get a better view. Trevor joins in, looking through the scope as the two enjoy the fiery spectacle in much the same way as they enjoyed melting all those Aparoids in the Metro core room into hot slag.
The two point out various neat things happening, like very annoying tourists. Phantom fusses with his arms folded; that Trevor has not changed a bit since Macbeth. While Kip and Calamity are seemingly more entertained by the two.
As the fire begins to quickly die down, so does the cheery spirit and quickly returns to one more professional. Now that artillery dominance has been naturalized, they can move on to the trench system. However, Trevor can already see that after the pummeling the last line had received before, going in with just the five of them would be suicide.
"Alright. We are going to catch as many retreating soldiers as we can and take back our trench. Two birds with one stone. Nova 7, spread out and try to catch as many of them as possible. PAL, megaphone mode."
As Patches repeats the order to spread out, the members do so. PAL in the meantime rolls out a wire from its back which Trevor connects to his radio. Then he grabs the transmitter module and presses the button.
"Soldiers of Corneria! Halt your retreat! We have destroyed their artillery advantage! We are the 35th Special Vanguard Unit and we are here to help you! All five of us, now spread out before you. We will not hold you back if you wish to run, but know this; we stand at the apex of greatness! If we lose this battle however, we will still be seen as a joke to all of Lylat. All we have collectively worked for, would be wasted. I know you're scared. You've been thrown to the wolves. Pummeled, beaten, starved and ravaged by a merciless rebel insurrection on what may be your first ever combat engagement. But if you follow me… follow us, I will promise you revenge and satisfaction. Every step we set closer will break their spirits. Because I will show you, no… WE will show you how to deal with any enemy that crosses us! Their knees will buckle before the might of the Cornerian Army! They've had their turn, now it's ours."
While Trevor orates passionately, his teammates are doing their best collecting as many soldiers as they can. Which only gets easier when Trevor mentions their team's name. Even those who were barely close to them, are starting to slow down. Those already past them, also start to slow down and even turn around. As those who return collect and congregate around each of the members, Trevor heartfully thanks them for their efforts and potential sacrifice.
- Prey No Longer
"Now, let's go take back our damn trench eh?" he shouts loud enough he does not even need the megaphone mode.
He then unplugs the cable connecting PAL to his radio and like with a vacuum cleaner the cord is winched back inside of the machine. Then he turns to each of his teammates, starting with Phantom.
"Phantom, you and PAL stay here. Collect those that have rifles capable of launching rifle grenades. I want you to turn their previous arty advantage into a disadvantage! Grenade them into submission with precision and provide general fire support on a to-be-given specified location."
"Got it!"
"Kip! Anyone who is armed with a machine gun. High-capacity preferred. Standard overwatch duty: take position up the hill to our left and make sure those bastards keep their heads down. Turn every oxygen molecule into lasers and lead if you have to!"
"Yes Sir!"
"Patch, Cal. You're with me until I yell "split". Patch, you are then to sneak into the trench from the right side. The communications center is easy to reach from over there. Kill everyone in your way! Cal, same for you but then to the left. Leave nothing standing, be they person or door! Got it?"
The two acknowledge loudly as they join up to him. The small army they have accumulated follows suit. Trevor then directs Phantom to blow up everything in the first line with a two-shot barrage and then to focus just behind the first line, cutting off any reinforcements. When the first grenade impacts, Kip can unleash hell. And when she unleashes hell, they charge. While he thinks about the progress more, he shoves the silencer back onto his rifle before he forgets it. Once more reading the inscription before he puts the rifle on his back and draws his revolver.
"On my command…"
Trevor raises his hand up in the air as the rifles are angled and directed to mathematical and locational perfection by PAL. Fingers are on the triggers, itching in anticipation. Trevor then balls his fist and pumps it. More tennis balls are impacting into racquets as almost in unison the rifle grenades take flight. And as they do, Trevor turns to those behind him.
"This! Is where we charge! This! Is where they… Die!"
He turns back around and what he thought would happen, happens exactly how he imagined it would go. The grenades are deadly precise inside the cramped confines of the trench. Wiping away lives like they were scraps of a plate. Then the doors to rapid-fire hell are opened as Kip has received her visible and audio cue to pull the trigger. Her small yet robust group of machine gunners serve their purpose perfectly well.
One leads into the other and Trevor calls to charge. To press the advantage. The enemy is befuddled and they must act upon this. Supported by improvised solutions, an improvised army charges like a stampede to reclaim what belongs to them. With Nova 7 at the helm. In a way, making them an actual Vanguard unit.
Halfway through, Trevor yells the command and each go their separate ways. Thanks to the distractions delivered by Kip's machine gun fire and Phantom's rifle grenade barrage, both arrive in the trench safely.
"This is 7-2. I'm in."
"This is 7-4, she just beat me to the punch."
Trevor in the meantime has also landed in the trench, landing on top of a very unfortunate soul. Even more unfortunate because Trevor had his gun out and quickly puts the confused rebel out of his misery. Then he perks his head up, sees two guys just petrified at his entrance. Without aiming that well, he dispatches them too as the rest of the army pulls through. All within the space of several seconds and more luck than skill. Or maybe he is just humble.
"Excellent work, you two. I'm in now too. Continue on. Phantom, shift your fire to the third and fourth lines from the back."
"7-5 copies!"
"Kip, I lost too many soldiers on that approach. Keep the trigger pulled until your barrels are reduced to hot slag, you got that?" he orders with a sarcastic undertone.
He can almost hear Kip roll her eyes.
"7-3 copies. Screw you… Sir."
"You know you love me." he answers back smugly before letting go of his earpiece and with his professional, more high-class accent encourages the soldiers that are pouring to advance further into their trenches.
He follows along, being with them all the way while enjoying the increased rattling of his machine guns. Even if they fade with distance. He micromanages where necessary but overall lets the soldiers follow their training and intuition. Which works very well as they reach have retaken about 40% of the trench system in a matter of minutes, despite stiff resistance.
One spot is particularly bothersome however; the area is covered by wood and is therefore hard to locate, nullifying any grenade support. It is also very cramped, forcing him and a couple of others to hide behind nearby sandbags. Then Patches gets on the radio with less than flattering news. With an unsuppressed invective, she reports she encountered a machine gun in a wall mounting at the end of a long, narrow hallway.
"I'm hit too… dammit. Just a graze on my shoulder, I'll live. But I won't be able to get inside this way."
"Copy 7-2. Cal, you still there hun? Get our bunny girl out of there will you?" he orders, although it sounded more like a suggestion.
The meaty sound of a familiar shotgun firing then erupts from behind a closed door just behind the sandbags. Then the door is blown off its hinges by the unlucky soul that caught the full brunt of the discharge. The door loudly impacts the ground as the rebel is launched into the middle of the passageway, in front of some others. Who suddenly look a lot more pale seeing their former comrade with a very big, nasty looking chunk ripped out his chest.
"Right here!" Calamity calls from just behind the doorway as she pumps her shotgun, smart enough not to go out into the firing line.
"I'll get her out, no worries. Smoke grenade out!"
After making the call out, the cylindrical gray canister rolls out from the doorway and starts spreading a thick cloud of smoke. Not only obscuring herself so she can pass through to get to the other side of the trench, but also Trevor and those he is with. She crosses safely and with a not so dainty kick, she kicks open the door which will lead to the Patches and bids her goodbyes.
With the smoke pluming up and going through the cracks in the wood, which Phantom can easily spot from a distance.
"You are the best Cal. Phantom, you seeing that smoke? Anything north of that is free game. Blow them to pieces!"
"Copy that! PAL, adjust the firing line."
Trevor gestures to everyone to keep their heads down and cover their ears. Things are about to get loud. And no sooner said than a good salvo of grenades impact with the wood above, causing a complete collapse of the roof on top of the rebels. To add insult to injury, the grenades that had lagged behind have no roof to detonate prematurely on. So they have a freer fall and blow up whoever is still alive after the collapse. Resulting in total annihilation.
Trevor thanks Phantom for the fire support as he and the rest move up. Phantom reports however that they are running low on available grenades. Trevor therefore orders to cease indiscriminate fire and wait for a request. He also contacts Kip, telling her to cease fire as they are already far enough inside. They can catch up with the rest and provide fire support on a squad basis.
"7-3 is on their way. Get up you lazy bastards, time to dive back in!"
As the balance of the fight turns into the Cornerian Army's favor, the rebels begin to lose their footing and their morale starts to plummet. The well-coordinated counter attack has them pulling at straws and being shot in the back while trying to retreat.
Back at Patches' section, the enemy's equivalent to Frank, is still not letting her into his hallway. She feels just a little bit useless, being stuck here while the rest is moving up. However, then she hears panic on the other side of the machine gun. As the weapon falls silent, its former gunner is not. He screams bloody murder before he is actually bloodily murdered by Calamity. With gusto she racks the pump before approaching the mount. She removes the weapon and peeks through the hole.
"It's safe now dear. Come on through, I believe the computers in this place are where you need to be."
Hearing this Patches, gets up as fast as she can and runs into the hallway. She runs by Calamity, thanking her on the way through as she quickly dives into wires and motherboards. She finds exactly what she needs; an access port. She plugs a dongle into it and radios to Trevor that she's in. That PAL A.I. can now work its magic. Appreciative that she actually used the machine's name, he commends her and Calamity for a job well done.
"Cal, collect all the paper evidence. PAL, extract all the files you can. Learn of any intrusion attempted and trace where any files have potentially been sent to. Retrieve them and leave a nasty surprise for them."
"Un-der-stood! With pleas-ure."
- The Real Predators
After all the files collecting and retrieving has been done, Calamity and Patches catch up with Trevor for the final push. Kip then calls in, telling him she is in the trench now as well. After all four are together again, Trevor calls for one last explosive huzzah. Everything they have left, at everything ahead of their position. And after all grenades have been used, then he and the rest can pour in to finish off what remains.
In very quick succession, explosions detonate ahead of Nova 7 and the rest of the army, tearing apart any holdouts still left. Now the enemy really starts to panic. Not knowing how many more grenades they have and losing more and more officers in the process, morale plummets. Some surrender, some run and others fight doggedly on. Which Trevor finds quite sporting; at least he will have something to do still.
"All units, time to finish off these bastards and reclaim the trench as our own! Let's go!" he shouts before leading the charge once more.
Despite only being armed with his revolver, the rebels are in such disarray now, that he could probably use just his fists and he will still come out on top. At one of the final crossroads, he manages to kill two of them ahead of him who were disoriented due to the blasts. He can see another come from his left and instinctively grabs the rebel's collar and hammers a neat cave-in into her forehead. As she falls down, Trevor comes along with her. He takes no chances, places the barrel of his gun against the same forehead he bludgeoned and finishes the job. He looks up and sees another come around the corner. But his revolver makes one of the worst noises in this situation: CLICK!
The size of the grin on the rebel's face when he realizes that Trevor is dry. This is not how the fresh new Sergeant expected this would end. And luckily for him it does not; as the rebel takes his time with taunting and being all funky with his rifle, an actual professional riflewoman appears from above and behind him. She pulls the trigger without any hesitation and drops the show-off in just a few shots. And the poor soul that came running before he heard gunshots is blown away by her pulling out her trusty double-barrel and pulling both triggers. Trevor, relieved that he will not go to the underworld just yet, gets back up on his feet.
"Thanks Kip."
He gives her a quick two-finger salute and continues on. He does not know how or why she is not in the trench but he can only assume that she takes her overwatch duty seriously.
On the other side of the trench, Patches and Calamity are both pinned down by reckless and aimless fire coming from behind cover. The rebels there are dead terrified it seems and only stick their weapons out. Firing blindly in the hope of not dying. Sadly none of them have any grenades or something like that left, which leaves them either waiting for an opportunity or for a miracle.
Then Patches is startled by a whistle coming from behind her. She turns around in an instant and notices only a vague, transparent silhouette. With a red light coming from its back? Once it clicks that this is Phantom living up to his name, wearing his optical camouflage courtesy of PAL being attached to him, she tells him off for scaring her like that.
He does not reply, simply signaling them to keep quiet about him and stay down. He will handle those scaredy-cats. He maneuvers through a moment of quiet and this spells the end for the rebels. One by one, picked off by something invisible and then silently disposed of. Adding even more terror into their hearts before they stop beating. And once all the necessary blood has been spilled, does Phantom turns off his camouflage.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. But I also didn't want to get shot in the ass." he pants as the adrenaline high starts to ebb away.
Without saying another word, he takes a big sniff, literally snorting up whatever goes through that tube, turns the camouflage back on and continues on his way. Leaving Patches confused; he apologized for that scare? Maybe because Calamity is here with her. The canine simply shrugs, mainly just glad that they can go on. Answers will come later. Patches shakes her head and resumes the push. They are nearly at the end anyway.
Nova 7 and the rest of the army then reach the final two lines where the hardliners still reside. Like a cornered animal, they act ferociously and use everything they have. If not lasers, then bullets. If not bullets, then grenades. If there are no grenades, then just anything you can find on the ground. Trevor knows he could easily overpower them but not without sacrificing too many lives for his liking. But even hardliners have superiors so he tasks Patches to find them.
She already has a hunch as she sees a fidgeting sentry in the distance in front of a metallic door that would lead to something quite important. She asks for covering fire so she receives it. Tumbling over her cover and keeping herself low, she manages to escape the firefight for the moment. Then Trevor sees a vague silhouette try to pass by but he grabs him by the leg and pulls him back. With only a visual gesture, he makes it clear not to follow her. Even despite good intentions. Disgruntled but understanding, Phantom goes into "predator" mode again.
With her pistols already drawn, she dispatches the nervous guard before he can alert anyone inside. She opens the door which requires some strength and as she looks down the stairs into what turned out to be the entrance to a bunker's storage room, she can see what remains of the leadership trying to fill their own coffers with loot and other important things. One warning shot is enough to have all of their attention. Although one seems to not understand what being unarmed while facing the barrel of a loaded gun means, so she spells it out for them.
"Hands up! That means getting your hand out of the treasure chest."
The man finally seems to understand it and with fright written all over his face raises his arms above his head. She slowly descends down the stairs but stops a few steps from the end to make sure she can look over all their heads.
"Attah boy. Now, however is still in charge here; call for a general surrender. You've lost."
The group does not seem to know what to do with that information but Patches has no patience for games. She fires her gun again and repeats herself louder. That seems to do the trick because one of them calls on their radio channels to lay down their weapons and surrender.
"Was that so hard?" she patronizes before commanding all of them to lie face-down on the ground, hands on their heads… slowly!
In the meantime, she descends down the steps completely and radios Trevor to let him know that she forced a surrender. And could use someone to tie up all these useless, corrupt, self-enriching douchebags. When one of those takes offense to this, Patches threatens to kick his teeth in which silences him quite effectively.
On the ground level, the call for surrender has been successfully received. Weapons are dropped to the floor and a lot of hands start filling the air. Trevor calls all to cease fire; they have won. Which is supposedly quite lucky for one soldier who has Phantom's blade against his throat. The moment he realizes the battle is over and he gets to live, is quickly followed by no moment at all. Phantom ignores the call for a cease fire and instead completes his kill. Without remorse, he lets go of the fresh corpse and only then takes his camouflage off.
"Nova 7. Mission complete! Magnificent work. We've proven we are the apex predators here! And above all; No need for those Star Fox berks. All Cornerian power!"
He then points to a Corporal, one of the "highest" ranking left of the remnants he helped herd together again. A pale green furred fellow with a mostly snow-white face. With a blocky, W-shaped goatee where the middle tip of the W is lower than the rest. The black color of it betrays the color his hair would be if he had not received the Cornerian Army issue buzzcut.
"What's your name?"
"Jacob. Jacob Munt, Sir. 64th Marine Infantry." the mutt salutes.
"The hell? What are the Marines doing here?"
"Greenhorn unit, Sir. Someone smarter than me thought this was a good exercise for experience, Sir."
"Stop calling me "Sir", you dopehead. You ain't Army, so just call me Trevor; you earned that at the very least."
It makes the Corporal a moment to register this as it is unorthodox but despite the difference in branch, he will take it up as an order.
"You got it, S… I mean, Trevor. What can I do?"
"Round up the prisoners and collect their weapons. And keep your guys from treating them too roughly. I don't want my words of encouragement to turn into excuses for war crimes, yeah?"
The Corporal nods and sets up a group to start the round up. Nova 7 meanwhile has climbed out of the trench and radios back that the mission has been a complete success. Halfway through that, an Army transport ship descends down and lands before them. Accompanied by the gusts of wind that such a maneuver brings with it. The door swings open and out pops a familiar large blue avian.
"Superb work! I thought I would swing on by to personally pick you up after your first successful mission." he shouts praising.
"How very kind, Lieutenant! We'll take you up on the offer. Nova 7, get in. We're going home!"
While one wished they could stay a little longer, the rest is eager to get back to base. It has been an exhilarating morning that started with a bang and ended with the trench system back in Cornerian hands and the intel leak plugged. Calamity, Kip and Phantom are the first to get in. While Patches takes this time to fling herself into the embrace of her big bird and plant a big smacking kiss on that big beak of his.
Trevor is about to get on too before he is called back by the Corporal from before, who laments that they already have to leave.
"Do you really have to go, Sergeant? You really saved our bacon here and we would like to repay you and your team for what you've done. With some actual bacon." he offers graciously.
"Sadly, I cannot take you up on your offer, Munt. So have some extra fatty meat on me."
The two then shake hands before each go their separate ways. The transport ship takes off the moment the doors close and as it leaves, it receives cheers from those below. Their morale and strength rejuvenated thanks to them.
3 - Back Aboard
"Lieutenant, with all due respect; could you please let my Specialist go so we can do the final check-ups?"
"Must I really, Sergeant?"
"She's all yours after I've completed the after-action report. Which, considering neither of us has died, shouldn't take long."
Damian looks down to the bunny girl sitting on his lap and does not seem too convinced yet. It was just getting cozy and all wholesome. But Patches tells her lovey-dovey that she will not be gone for long. Somewhat begrudgingly, he relents and lets her go with Trevor. She blows him one final kiss before she closes the door to her bedroom he had claimed as his own.
"Did I just hear you call him "lovey-dovey"? Did I hear that correctly just now?"
"Oh, blow it out your ass!" she brushes off, trying to smack him on the arm.
However Trevor, seeing this coming, evades and continues pestering her about it. She laments that she should have stayed with Damian so she would not be tempted to frag her direct superior.
"So that's why you are so piqued? Did I cause a case of birby-blue-balls perhaps?"
His insinuation is not entirely incorrect so when she only admits to it a little bit, Trevor claims victory. But she does not seem to mind too much after all. She will not be gone for long and she gets it; a little revenge for what happened back in the apartment back then. Which Trevor cannot place.
"You didn't see? Oh Trevor, you are so lucky Calamity is usually so forward with what she wants because you cannot read subtle sexually-charged hints at all!" Patches states with extra emphasis on the "all".
"The looks she gave you while we were at the table that day… if I wasn't there at that moment, she would have pounced you there and then."
Trevor leans in closer.
"Next time you see this and I'm as blind as bat, nudge me will ya?"
She giggles.
"What's an XO for if I didn't?"
"More than fair."
They reach the door leading back into the conference room from before. However, Trevor stops them from continuing on.
"Before we head back in there; I will not address that minor vocal incident from before the charge. We'll handle that in private. Try to ignore him until then, yes?"
Patches is somewhat confused at first why she was stopped but then understands why he wants to keep this between the three of them. However, is it really necessary? It was just one incident and it was nipped in the bud. Granted, Trevor had to play the annoying teacher but still. It could have been worse. But she guesses that she will hear about this soon, at base.
"I understand. I won't antagonize him; I've had my fill of him today already."
"Good. Now, let's make this quick and professional."
With that said, they walk into a silent, quite orderly and densely tense conference room. Compared the vibrant, good-humored mood he stepped into before the mission. His presence at that moment made it more formal but now some formality seems like an upgrade. Everyone present actually perks up, knowing that there will at least be something to talk about.
"Afternoon Gents. Patch, please take your seat and we can start."
Once the bunny has taken her seat, does Trevor resume.
"First and foremost, we have a message from the Major himself. I presume it's pre-recorded, given that two were sent to me. One for when we were victorious, the other if we lost. So I will play the correct one."
With the press of a button, the holographic display shows the Major's detached head appear as an avatar.
"Nova 7. Superb job! You showed everyone that their trust in us has not been misplaced. We were used for something we were not exactly designed to do and yet we smashed it. I'm proud of all of you. I look forward to seeing your after-action report back at Tacker Field. Until then, enjoy the ride home and rest up. You've earned it."
The avatar disappears as the message ends.
"Wow. Quite rare to see the Major being so complimentary." Kip brings up.
"I'd say getting to know us might have helped melt his icy heart."
"Or it might be because he's scared of you." jokes Patches.
"Pfft! Don't make me laugh. I only verbally knocked him down a peg. No, it is Calamity who's the Major's boogeyman." the kangaroo deflects.
"Tut tut! Boogeywoman." Calamity corrects, taking it as a compliment.
"Regardless. The Major is happy we did well and we should be too. Despite some small imperfections here and there, myself not excluded from that… thank you again, Kip… we did fantastic. Not only did we accomplish our mission, we also held the line at that position. Unfortunately, it turns out other spots at the line did not hold as well. The best the Army could pull from this, is a draw. Until of course heavier weapons arrive, then the rebels will be over. And we are currently suspecting that the rebels have some kind of connection to the old Andross empire. It's like we'll never be rid of dumb, stupid apes in his system of ours. Anywho!"
Then he grabs a tablet and goes over all of the team members starting from the lowest to the highest number. Nelson does not apply because he was not present at the battle. He himself has already filled in everything for him. So the list goes to number two.
"Patches. Give me a rundown. Health, ammo, equipment and other info you wish to share."
"Bastards got me on the left, upper arm. It looks nasty but it will heal. In terms of ammo, no assault rifle was used so I could use twelve fresh pistol magazines. Six for each shooter. As for my equipment, the graze did tear my sleeve. The rest is all intact if a little dirty. Thankfully so because I absolutely adore my new get-up!" she proclaims proudly as she leans back into her chair.
"Glad to hear your arm will heal. Still, let someone take a good look at that in case there's something still stuck in there. I'm available once we're back at base to play doctor and patch you up as it were. Again." he says with a wink, to her entertained irritation.
"Twelve new magazines, noted. About your sleeve, let the base tailor have a look at that. Now, to number 3. Kip. For you the same."
"Similar situation to Patches, except it was shrapnel that caused it. Unfortunately I also found that I have some muscle ache in the back of the neck. In terms of ammo… how does a big box full of bullets sound like? And several extra shotgun shells. As for equipment, you told me to keep the trigger pulled until it turned into hot slag so… I'm gonna need a new barrel or three."
"Have someone more professional than me look at that wound. And if the muscle ache stays or gets worse, have that checked over too. Last thing I need is my partner brought down due to a whiplash. How dare you not have a car crash first?" he asks rhetorically, trying to be funny.
Which does not fail, much to Kip's feigned dissatisfaction.
"A buttload of ammo coming up for you. And just because you are you, I'll toss some shells in there for you. Tit for tat eh? In terms of equipment, can your rifle handle a heavy barrel?"
She nods.
"Good. I'll arrange you'll get a few of those. That should keep your stuff intact next time you raise hell. Next up then, the ever lovely number 4."
"Oh, please Trevor, don't single me out like that." Calamity states, contrary to what she is actually thinking.
"Too bad. Your turn."
"Right. Dislocated right shoulder from either my shotgun's double blast or one of those doors that failed to cooperate. And my left foot has potentially been sprained. On top of those annoying little wounds already present. I almost fired all my shotgun ammunition so on top of a refill, I would like to carry more from now on. In terms of equipment… nothing a visit to the laundry won't fix."
"Right shoulder popped back into place again?"
"Patches assisted in doing so, yes. But I will have it checked out just to be sure."
"Good, good. Glad your injuries are minor as well. As for your ammo situation, go by the tailor too and request an enlargement of your pockets or have them add more. As for your foot, swing by my room after this and we'll sort that right out."
Saying such a raunchy thing like it is perfectly normal was unexpected for Calamity, but not unwelcome. She has to really try to suppress letting out an excited growl. She will definitely be there.
"Right then, on to number 5. Phantom, gimme gimme."
Phantom however does not start the same as the rest and cannot resist being a disruptive influence.
"Sergeant, I wouldn't mind if we kept after-action reports strictly professional and formal. Lest we descend further into silly humor and innuendo's."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Roger. I'm the boss here. I get that you might be a little jealous though. No worries; if you were my boyfriend, I'd do the same for you. Now, the rundown. If you please."
Perfectly sassed, Phantom forgets what words are for a moment and fleetingly looks for any support with the rest but finds no help from the entertained female threesome. He sighs and gives the rundown.
"No injuries have been sustained. Although I might have the doc look into my ears; I have a slight ringing sensation in the right ear. When it comes to ammo, I'll pass this round. I used so little that I think it's moot to have that arranged."
"It's no problem. We ask and we shall receive."
"I get it, but it's not necessary."
"Suit yourself then. Continue."
"No equipment issues. Optical camouflage worked flawlessly. My blade requires some sharpening but I can do that myself. Oh and I think I'll finally have PAL's new voice box ready once I can make the final adjustments to it back at base."
Hearing that is somewhat of a relief for all in the room. At first it was novel to hear the machine put syllables together to form sentences, almost like a young child learning their way around language. Over time however, it became less endearing and more grating. Nothing PAL himself can do about it of course, but still.
"Good to hear, good to hear. Now, last but not least; PAL. Give me the rundown buddy."
There are expressions of confusion appearing on the four members. First looking at Trevor, as if saying "what are you doing?" and then to PAL. The machine himself did not expect this question and has run into somewhat of an error it seems.
"Me? Sir?" he questions.
"Yeah. You, PAL. No one else here with that name."
"Sir, I am part of Phan-tom."
"No need to be coy. You are a valued member of this team. Just because you are attached mostly to Phantom's back, doesn't mean you are not your own entity. Now, run it down for me."
PAL is still silent, internally adjusting some things and adapting to this unexpected twist. Then it seems to awaken with a shiver before it answers.
"Thank you Sir. I ap-pre-ci-ate your kind words. No dam-age sus-tained. Rifle gre-nades de-ple-ted. Po-wer le-vels at 32% per-cent… thank you a-gain for ask-ing." he says with what sounds like a timid tone to it.
"Just 32? Jeez Phantom, take better care of your mechanical friend here! He's about to drop dead. And will not return this ship to the Admiral with a big hole in his floor."
Phantom puffs.
"Yes Sir. PAL, to Home."
The machine floats to Phantom's back and attaches itself back first into his base. Essentially its mobile home, where it can power up again. He makes sure to attach himself to a thick, flat wire that reminds of a seatbelt as the rest of his body seamlessly integrates with the backplate.
Silently, he goes over what has just happened. Memories are easy to replay when you record all you see and hear. He mainly replays the moment Trevor turned to him and asked him to, just like with the other members, report on himself. Was this concern for his well being? Or just a formality? He expressed sympathy when the others had injuries so it must have been for his well being. It was then followed by Trevor telling him, without mincing his words, no alteration in his tone or any facial expression that was out of the ordinary, that he is a valued member of the team.
"Val-ued." he says to himself softly, not even loud enough to have his red eye light up.
"Right then!" Trevor then calls out after he is done filling everything into the report.
"That concludes this after-action session. Unless there are any other points or questions from you?"
Patches raises her hand.
"Sorry to hold everyone else back, but how about the upgrades we were promised?"
The expression from Trevor she receives suggests it is still not done yet. So now that she knows and the others have no trouble reading the expression.
"No Patch, I'm sorry. It should've been delivered already. But it's out of my reach now. I just know we'll get them. Sooner than later."
A little bit of a hopeful smile appears on his face. Then he asks if there is anything else. No hands are raised.
"Perfect! Now, get out of here and relax yourselves. We have about an hour before we arrive back at base so take your time. Phantom, I'd suggest you take a shower. Your optical camouflage makes you incredibly sweaty. Also, get yourself a new outfit; your current one is no longer so good. Patch, you be careful with that big bird; keep him intact. Kip, I managed to save your lunch from myself so you can get started on that.. before I take it myself. And Calamity… yeah, you know where and when. Everyone, well done and relax. That's an order. Nova 7, forever!" he smirks before all grab their stuff and walk out of the conference room.
Some faster than others for obvious reasons.
- BONUS: Winner Winner, Kip Lunch
"That he honestly said I needed a shower…" he grumbles to himself while warm water is streaming down his head and over his muzzle.
"In front of everyone for that matter! And he thought he was so clever too!"
Then the grumbling makes way for a one-sided grin when he realizes Trevor has not lost his edge at all. He just mellowed out a little bit but he can still dish out zingers despite his new position as head honcho of this still relatively new fancy pancy unit.
"He should've never asked me. But then again, I did say yes. And unlike some backwater, heartbreak, generic, fragile, crybaby bitch in second-hand military clothing holding onto the memories of how much better it was when mommy and daddy were still together, I took my damn time thinking about it."
The shower is turned off and he starts drying himself off. Making sure not to interfere with the oxygen tank he took from his backplate system. It is a small tank, enough for about an hour or two so it is perfect to place it on the floor so he can also wash his back.
The towel takes his morose with it and he feels rather refreshed. Both by the shower and having some time to self-therapy himself. Maybe that was Trevor's whole idea about him taking a shower. Regardless, one thing he cannot shake is that he does not fit into the team very well. And he has a sinking feeling he might never be.
He puts the tank on his back with its straps. Then, with the towel now wrapped around his waist with a knot tied because he could never get how anyone else would wear it without, he walks out of the shower and into the hallway back to his room for that moment. The hallway is so spotless and clean. With the same black marble with small white specs as they have in the conference room. It irks him a little bit.
A little up ahead, in the kitchen/break area, Kip is eagerly eyeing up that lunch Trevor "saved" for her as it spins in the microwave. Which is quite a lie given that Trevor does not like sweet potatoes.
With enlarged pupils she watches impatiently as she can already smell it. Her stomach has been empty for too long. That is the two-sided blade of a Militia with H-status; you can stay at the base but you don't have to adhere to military protocol unless you are called upon. Which means that in comparison to others, she can sleep in. Downside to that is, is that Nova 7 was called upon after they had breakfast. So she got diddly squat. That she was able to perform as well as she did, let alone hold her weapons straight, is quite an achievement.
While being sunken in that thought, the long awaited beeping noise tells her that her food is finally ready for consumption. She flings the door open but is at least careful enough to use a folded up tea towel to grab the edges of the bowl. Lest she burns her fingers.
She had already set the table in anticipation with a good drink. She lifts the lid off carefully so she is not blasted in the face with a cloud of steam and then it is time to delve in. The smell is so full and rich, it is almost as good as Calamity's cooking. Her nostrils appreciate it just for one moment first before her taste buds finally get that opportunity. And the flavor does not disappoint at all. To make it even better, she puts on some music from the built-in touch screen that has been installed into the wall. So she has something to mildly move along with while filling her stomach. All in all, she is a happy camper.
While she is digging in, she can see from the corner of her eye Phantom appear. He looks stuck in his own world. His lips are clearly moving and he is… half-naked. That is not helping her appetite that much.
"You lost?" she calls out, startling him half to death.
"What the…?! Crap… Kip, you gave me a heart attack."
She cannot help but at least be a little proud of that. It was not her intention to startle him that badly but it certainly tickled her.
"But no, I'm not lost. I just…"
At that moment he realizes his current bare upper chest situation.
"Oh crap…! I was just… gonna go to my… I didn't expect…"
Seeing him struggle with his words that badly as his face turns redder and redder while he has a strong grip on his towel, is a first for her. It somewhat humanizes him in a way she never expected.
"Hey. I'm no prude. Relax." she says in response to his rambling, which slowly descends back into mumbling before he does what she suggested.
"Sorry. I meant to say… I didn't expect anyone to be here. I thought everyone was in their rooms… heh. I clearly thought wrong."
"Apology accepted." Kip states with a small smile before turning back to her food.
He is tempted to say that he technically did not apologize but he cannot bring himself to be a smartass now. Mainly because all he is wearing is a bath towel and an oxygen tank, which is the only thing between him and an indecent exposure charge. But what she said, the way she said it. It was not hostile at all, quite neutral in fact. An "accidents happen" kind of attitude.
Then again, aside from Trevor of course, Kip has been the only one who is at least non-hostile towards him throughout his integration up until now. Maybe because she is an H-status Militia, she does not really care about the team chemistry? That would not be right though; she can get along with everyone else and vice versa.
"Hey." he hears her call out again.
"You can stop mumbling to yourself; if you want to sit down, you may. Like I said, I'm not a prude."
That was not his intention at all. He wanted to think for a moment and then just leave her be while he tries to forget that encounter ever happened in the way it happened. And was he really mumbling? He must have been, otherwise she would not have pointed it out.
Now it also begins to dawn on him how she must have seen. Like a child, too scared or otherwise stunned to anything other than stand there like a chump. How embarrassing. But now he has been offered it, he feels almost obliged to. So he takes the seat opposite of her and softly thanks her for it.
"Had a good shower?" Kip asks, breaking the ice that has started to form during another period of silence that was created after he sat down.
"Uh… yeah. But I wasn't sweaty like the Sergeant said. Just need to clear my head."
Kip eats some more and after swallowing, comments on what a thorough job he must have done. Phantom responds confused but then she reminds him of how echoey a shower can be. Let alone those hallways.
"Ah, so you heard all of that then?"
"You got some demons there in that head of yours. You should be in therapy."
"I'm not insane, thank you very much."
"Did I say you were?"
"I guess… not." he sighs.
"Can I give you a tip? Stop trying to fit in."
"I knew it… I don't belong here…"
"Again, I did not say that. Stop trying." she emphasizes very clearly, making Phantom raise his head up again.
"Stop forcing yourself. Be yourself instead. You assume that you have to be something amazing to be in this team. Sure, in a sense you are right. But I believe Trevor knows what you're worth. He picked you out of like… five others? That's gotta count for something, right?" she suggested before taking another bite.
Phantom looks up at her and feels something crack inside his head. It is not his brain, but rather a thought pattern he has had for a long time. Like a mirror he held before himself. The image in that mirror, or at least how he wanted it to look suddenly took a drastically different appearance. No longer whole, but rather fractured.
"So… what you mean is…? What exactly?"
She can see he is trying to puzzle it all together so she will at least give one last tip to him before she will take her leave because as rewarding as it is to help out a teammate, her food is getting cold and she'd actually be rather eating that instead.
"Start small; stop with one thing and start with another. For example… stop assuming what we want you to be. And start apologizing for the bastard you've been."
Kip lets a period of silence fall in between as Phantom falls in bewilderment.
"Now, if you'll excuse me. My food is getting cold and I think I need some privacy for now."
She puts the lid back on the bowl, grabs the cutlery and takes her leave. Of course not forgetting her drink. Without saying another word, she leaves Phantom alone in the room. Left to ponder on his own about the advice she has given him.
It is still unclear to him. It felt so contrary; clearly she gave him solid advice and even challenged his views. Which suggests that she genuinely wanted to help him. But her neutral tone and cold demeanor suggests she was averse to it. So it all came down to something somewhere in the middle.
He remains confused about it but somewhere inside the haziness, he gets a feeling that she is right. Start small. Like… getting dressed. That might be a very good idea indeed.