Inside a dimly lit, cold metal room, a man groaned as he opened his eyes. "What the hell?" he muttered, wincing at the throbbing pain in the back of his head.
"Sergeant Tilander?" a second voice groaned out, equally groggy.
"Teal?" Tilander replied, his voice rough. "What the hell happened?"
The men squinted as an intense light flooded the room, blinding them momentarily. "Sorry, didn't mean for it to be that bright," a calm voice said, reducing the brightness to a more bearable level.
As their eyes adjusted, the men took in their surroundings. They were inside a rusted and grimy metal room, it appeared to be the inside of a storage container. The walls were close, oppressive, with the faint stench of rust and something sterile, alcohol—like a medical facility that had long since lost its sheen. The light swung gently from above, casting eerie shadows that danced around the confined space. Metal chains clinked softly against each other with the subtle movements of the men, adding to the tension in the room.
Tilander, a Master Sergeant in the Erusian Army, focused on the figure in front of him. His eyes widened with recognition and surprise. "You!" he barked, thrashing against the restraints that bound him to a metal chair bolted to the floor.
"Don't bother," the young man said, his voice cold and composed. "Those restraints will hold for hours. You're not in any immediate danger; I just want to talk."
Tilander smirked arrogantly, his mind racing for a way out. "You suck at interrogating, boy. You'll have to do better than this if you want me to talk."
The young man, barely in his twenties, showed no reaction to the taunt. Instead, he picked up a syringe from a nearby cart. The metal tray clanged softly as he selected it, the metal on metal sound sharp in the otherwise quiet room. He stepped toward the second man, Teal, a Private First Class, who was still struggling to shake off the disorientation.
"Hold still," the young man said, his tone flat. With ruthless efficiency, he grabbed Teal by the hair, jerking his head back as he injected the contents of the syringe into the soldier's arm. Teal gasped, eyes wide with panic as the cold liquid entered his bloodstream.
"What the hell did you just do?" Tilander shouted, his voice tinged with fear.
The young man discarded the syringe carelessly, letting it clatter to the floor. "I injected him with a large dose of morphine. Now, it's your turn to talk."
"Go to hell!" Tilander spat, though his bravado was starting to crack.
The young man's expression didn't change as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Hell? I don't think you understand," he said, his eyes darkening with a cold, unfeeling glare. "We're already there. And this is just the first part of it. I'm the one who's going to drag you through every circle of it until you tell me what I want to know."
The words hung in the air, oppressive and final, like a death sentence. The room started to grow hotter as the hanging flood light generated more heat, the metal walls closing in as the true horror of the situation began to settle into the sergeant's mind. The heavy chains, rusted from exposure binding them to equally rusted chairs, the enclosed space, there would be no mercy, no escape—only the relentless, unforgiving wrath of the young man before him.
The metal chair creaked under Tilander's shifting weight as he pulled against the restraints, his confidence waning as he realized the chains would not give anytime soon. The young man before him was no ordinary captor; he was a predator who had lured them into his den. The cold iron of the container, the sterile smell mixed with the acrid scent of rust, the intense light and its heat swinging above—everything in this room screamed that they were at the mercy of someone who had no intention of giving mercy.
The young man continued to smile. He had all the time in the world, and he wasn't in a hurry. The game had only just begun, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.
He picked up another syringe, this one filled with a different, more sinister-looking liquid. "Now," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent chills down Tilander's spine, "let's see how much pain you can handle before you start talking."
The storage container's walls seemed to close in as Mobius prepared to continue his grim task, the burning light reflecting off the syringe in his hand. The air was thick with dread, the kind that settles in when you realize you're in a place where no one can hear you scream.
Tilander's eyes darted around the room, searching for anything that could help him, but there was nothing. No escape. No hope. Just the cold, methodical presence of the young man who was about to exact his revenge.
The young man grabbed a small knife from the cart and flipped it open, his movements deliberate and disturbingly calm. He slowly set the tip of the blade against the Private's right quadriceps, pressing it into the soldier's leg with a cold precision.
"You know," he began in a voice as smooth as ice, "Morphine is a real medical wonder. It can block out even the most intense pain… for a time. But eventually, your friend here is going to start feeling that knife, and when he does, it won't be pleasant. Tell me what I want to know, and I'll treat the injury, bandage him up, and send you both on your way. Unarmed, of course."
"Fuck you!" the Sergeant spat, his voice shaking as he struggled against his restraints. "You better hope I don't get free."
The young man shook his head slowly, a sigh escaping his lips. "We're way past that point, Sergeant. I would say that I was hoping this would be more civil, but I'm happy it's turning out this way" He walked behind the Sergeant, his footsteps echoing off the cold metal walls. When he returned, he was holding a small jar of peanuts. "I hear the Private here is allergic to peanuts. Do you know how morphine works Sergeant? It's an opioid, it binds opioid receptors in the brain, the spinal cord, and other parts of the body. Those receptors are involved in transmitting pain signals and when morphine binds to them, it interrupts the transmission of pain signals to the brain reducing the sensation of pain. It also stimulates the release of neurotransmitters like dopamine, that's what causes you to feel so relaxed. But it can also interact with mast cells, triggering them to release histamine into the bloodstream, you know, the body's reaction to allergic reactions?"
The young man suddenly grins, "Which means while it will numb the pain, it will make the allergic reaction much worse, and since Private Teal's peanut allergy is bad enough to require an epipen" the young man holds up the soldier's epipen, dangling it in front of their faces, "I think it's safe to say this combination would be fatal very quickly. You have maybe at most half an hour to tell me what I want to know."
"Sergeant…" the Private groaned, his voice thick with the effects of the morphine.
The Sergeant looked at his subordinate, pain flickering across his face before he steeled himself. "I'm sorry, Teal, but I won't reveal the secrets that keep our men safe. Sacrifice one to save many more who are innocent."
"Innocent?" the young man's voice dropped to a terrifying whisper before it exploded into a roar. "INNOCENT?" He yanked the knife from the Private's leg and, with a brutal thrust, drove it into the side of the Sergeant's upper thigh. The Sergeant gritted his teeth, a stifled cry escaping as the blade cut into his flesh.
"What do you know about the innocent?" the young man continued, his tone dark and venomous as he seized the sergeant by the throat, strangling him as he dragged the knife down his leg, carving open a gash in his leg, "There is nothing innocent about your military. Countless lives ended because of your so-called 'innocent' soldiers. INNOCENT LIVES!"
He yanked the knife free and stabbed it into the cart with a piercing groan of tearing steel that echoed ominously through the storage container. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the sharp odor of gasoline as the young man opened a red container in the corner. The cold metal walls felt like they were closing in, transforming the container from a grim, inescapable prison to something smaller and more permanent.
The young man turned back to the Private, his eyes glinting with cruel intent as he opened the jar of peanuts. "I'll let you choose, Private Teal: death by allergic reaction, or should I just cut you until you bleed out?"
The Private's eyes widened in horror, despite the morphine's numbing effects.
"Alright then," the young man said with a twisted grin, retrieving the knife again. "Guess I'll do both."
"Why?" the Private asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I haven't done anything…"
"Why?" The young man crouched down, his face inches from the Private's, his breath hot against the soldier's skin. "Maybe it's the unprovoked bombing on my hometown. Maybe it's because your military took over and made our lives a living hell. Or maybe it's because of all the innocent lives lost in the unprovoked bombing of my town."
His eyes darkened, and his voice rose to a furious shout. "OR MAYBE IT'S BECAUSE THOSE SAME BOMBS KILLED MY LITTLE SISTER!" He struggled to keep his breathing steady, rage seething beneath the surface. "She was going to turn sixteen the next day. The final school bell hadn't even rung when your Air Force started bombing us… Maybe it's because your military took her away from me. Or maybe it's all of the above. Why don't you choose your favorite answer?"
He turned his attention back to the Sergeant, his expression cold and unyielding. "I'll give you one last chance. Tell me what I want to know, or your last memory of Private Teal will be looking into his eyes as he suffocates, wondering why you refused to save him."
The Sergeant's face was a mask of fear, but he still managed to growl, refusing to break.
The young man's eyes narrowed as he walked over to the Sergeant, calmly taking the pistol he had confiscated earlier. Without a word, he whipped the Sergeant across the face with it, the sound of the impact sharp and brutal in the enclosed space.
The Sergeant gasped for breath, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but he remained silent, spitting defiantly on the ground.
The young man's patience had worn thin. He reached down, digging his fingers into the cut he had made on the Sergeant's leg, twisting the flesh as he spoke with a voice as cold as death itself. "You'll wish you had cooperated when I was being civil, Sergeant."
The Sergeant's screams echoed off the metal walls as he thrashed against the pain, but the young man didn't relent, his grip unyielding. When the Sergeant spit in his face, the young man's expression didn't change. Instead, he twisted his hand deeper into the wound, his voice low and deadly. "Even this is too good for you."
Finally, the young man withdrew his hand and walked to the back of the storage container, returning with a small red container of gasoline. He poured it slowly over the floor, the pungent smell filling the air, thick and suffocating. Then, with an almost bored expression, he forced the Private to swallow several peanuts at once."
"No, don't!" the Sergeant cried out in anguish.
"Too late," the young man replied, his voice a deadly whisper as he drove his hand into the Sergeant's leg again. "You had your chance to save him, and you chose to sacrifice him. Now, his last thoughts will be of how the man he trusted did nothing and allowed him to die."
"I'll talk, just stop!" The Sergeant finally broke, the pain too overwhelming.
The young man's eyes narrowed in disgust. "Oh, it's far too late for that now. I'm done with you. I'll just move on to another target."
Without hesitation, he turned and aimed his pistol at the floor where the gasoline pooled and pulled the trigger, the spark from the bullet hitting the steel igniting the gas which quickly spread around them. Private Teal's eyes were already watering and his throat closing from his allergic reaction, enhanced by the morphine, even as the fire burned him, he could not scream.
The Sergeant struggled frantically against his restraints feeling the rusted chains tear and dig into his skin as the fear took him, his screams growing more desperate. "Mobius, stop!"
Mobius' eyes flew open as he shot up into a sitting position. Standing next to him was Meia, struggling against his grip. He was holding her wrist tightly, his entire body trembling.
After realizing what he was doing, Mobius gasped and released Meia, his hand recoiling as if it had been burned. He looked away from her, breathing heavily, a look of fear and concern etched on his face, afraid that he might have hurt her.
"I'm sorry, Meia," he panted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Meia gazed at him with a mix of shock and fear, her own heart pounding. She hesitated for a brief moment, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. But then, pushing that hesitation aside, she reached out and touched his shoulder, her fingers trembling slightly before settling. She sat next to him, her presence a calming anchor in the storm of his emotions. "What is it?" she asked gently, even in the dim room, she could see the beads of sweat running down his face.
Mobius didn't answer immediately; he couldn't bring himself to look at her, his body trembling uncontrollably.
"Another memory?" Meia asked, her voice soft and understanding.
Mobius nods, his voice hollow as he replies, "Yeah…"
"Tell me," Meia urged, but Mobius shook his head, trying to get up. Meia quickly stopped him, pulling him back down to sit beside her. She looked into his eyes, refusing to let him withdraw, "Talk to me," she said, her tone gentle yet insistent.
Mobius finally looked at her, his eyes dark with the weight of his past. "The first two soldiers I killed… I captured them and started torturing them…I inflicted as much pain as I could think of before I killed them both."
Meia listened, her heart conflicted. She had seen the recording of his dream when he assaulted the Erusian base and allowed the ISAF forces to retake his hometown. But hearing it from him, in his own words, felt different—more personal, more haunting.
Mobius continued, his voice steady and resolute, "In the end, I set fire to the container I held them in. I watched them burn from the outside, and I could hear the sergeant I left alive calling me a monster while he was burning alive. But I'd do it again, every bit of it without hesitation. They all deserved what I did to them."
Meia was surprised by the conviction in his words. A part of her felt conflicted, not because of what he had done, but because it reminded her of her own self-destructive path—how she had once harbored similar darkness within herself. She had seen herself as a weapon, and now, seeing that same mentality in Mobius, it was like looking into a mirror she had tried to break.
Mobius looked away from her, his gaze distant, "I made my choices. I knew what I was doing, and I accepted the consequences. They deserved what happened to them, and I'm not going to pretend I regret it. But there is part of me that feels like I don't deserve you. You've seen the worst of me, and you still…"
Meia cut him off by gently placing her hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to hers. There was no slap, no anger, only a quiet understanding. "Mobius, I get it, I understand. I wasn't that far off from you before the captain found me and gave me a place with her. You helped change me more than I ever thought possible," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "I never gave it any thought, but I was lost before you came into my life. I thought I knew what I was and what I wanted before you showed up, but since that day you helped me everything started feeling better, even if I didn't realize it right away."
Mobius blinked, the realization dawning on him. He had always seen himself as the one leading, the one pushing others to be stronger. But now, he saw how much Meia had changed him as well—how she had given him something he never thought he could have: a reason beyond revenge, a reason to enjoy life again, a reason to stop being a soldier all the time.
"Meia…" Mobius began, his voice softer, more vulnerable than before.
She smiled at him, a smile filled with warmth and sincerity. "We've both done things we're not proud of, but that's the past. We're here now, and we can choose to be better. I don't care about what you did before, Mobius. I care about who you are now, and who you're becoming."
Mobius took a deep breath, the tension slowly leaving his body. He reached out and held her hand, "No force in the galaxy would be able to keep me away from you," he said with a small, sad smile. "I'll stay with you, no matter what."
Was it love? Neither of them knew for sure, they had both been so broken by their pasts, becoming aggressive and ruthless that while they understood what love was they didn't know what it felt like. Was this it or was it a simple attraction because they were so similar? Meia remembered her conversation with the captain, Magno told Meia her feelings were perfectly natural for someone who was in love, maybe she was. Mobius was more sure of it, but part of him was afraid of the thought of putting everything he became to the side and trying to return to how he used to be before the bombs, did that person even exist anymore?
They sat in silence for a moment, their hands intertwined, reflecting on how far they had come. Mobius then reached over to Meia's nightstand and checked his watch resting on it, "It's already noon. Guess I should get to work, huh? I'll see you later… Meia."
Meia sat at the edge of her bed, watching as Mobius slid his shirt and jacket on before leaving her room. She couldn't help but wonder just how deep the scars of his past ran, and how much of that darkness still lingered within him.
Mobius made his way to the hangar, climbing the stairs at the far end where the leader of the hangar teams spent her days checking maintenance reports and the like.
"Morning," Mobius said as he entered the office, only to find it empty. "Hmm," he hummed before stepping into the filing room and retrieving the maintenance logs of Eclipse squadron. "I hate this part of the job," he muttered to himself before walking out of the hangar.
"So, you're alive," 13's voice called to him as he left the office.
Mobius looked over the railing and down at 13, who stood at the bottom of the stairs. "I decided to sleep in a bit today," he replied as he walked down the stairs.
"Oh, I bet you did," 13 said with an amused smile. "I noticed you weren't in your room last night. You stayed with Meia again, didn't you?"
"Don't see how that's any concern of yours," Mobius replied, his voice as neutral as ever as 13 handed him a cup of coffee.
Taking a quick sip from the cup, Mobius looked around. They were the only ones in the hangar. "So, where is everyone?"
13 glanced over his shoulder before leaning closer to Mobius, lowering his voice. "I think something's up. Whenever I walked by any of the women, they tensed up and looked away. I swear I could feel them glaring at me after I walked by."
"Maybe there's something on your face," Mobius replied sarcastically.
"I'm serious," 13 snapped back, his tone losing its humor. "Something isn't right here. I've got a really bad feeling about all of this."
The hangar doors opened, and Hibiki stormed in, his face twisted with irritation. "I'm getting really sick of all of this. She starts crying, and when I ask her what's wrong, she says it's nothing. People don't just start crying for nothing."
Mobius, standing beside 13 with a cup of coffee in hand, didn't even glance up from the maintenance logs. "You're late," he stated calmly, his voice carrying a subtle edge that hinted at his disapproval.
"Stuff it!" Hibiki snapped, his frustration boiling over. "I'm not in the mood for any of that today, ya hear me?"
Mobius arched an eyebrow, his calm demeanor unshaken. "Well, he's pretty rattled," 13 noted, his voice laced with both amusement and concern.
"Any of that sixth sense of yours tingling?" 13 asked, leaning closer to Mobius with a half-smirk, though his eyes were sharp with curiosity.
"Captain," Mobius responded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "You're becoming more like me each day. Might have to start calling you my apprentice."
13 chuckled, the sound low and wry. "What can I say? You've got an addicting personality," he retorted. But as the banter faded, 13's expression turned serious. "What are we going to do? If something's going on with the women, we should be careful."
"Nothing," Mobius replied, his tone hardening slightly. "If it's something Hibiki caused, we let him deal with it and stay as far out of it as possible. We've got a job to do that doesn't involve worrying about him." He held up the maintenance logs for 13 to see. "Now tell me—notice the upscale in Leona's armaments usage?"
13 nodded, his eyes narrowing. "She's becoming reckless."
"Exactly," Mobius continued, his voice growing colder. "She's using way too much ammunition in a single battle. It's going to cause problems for everyone. We need to limit the amount of ammo she's allowed to use, including resupplies in the middle of battle."
"What about Yukiko and Laura?" 13 asked, glancing at the logs.
Mobius's expression darkened. "Their performance is increasing, they're still taking damage in each battle, but it's less and less each time. I don't think we have to worry about them."
"Should we send Leona back to the simulators then?" 13 suggested.
Mobius shook his head. "No, I've got a better idea, but I'll need to run it by the captain first."
As if on cue, the hangar doors opened again, and Leona stormed in, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and determination and a gun at her side.
"Captain, how good are you at hand-to-hand combat?" Mobius muttered under his breath, his tone so casual it was almost unnerving.
13 slid his foot back slightly, readying himself. "I can hold my own," he replied, his voice low. "You think?"
"Yep," Mobius said, still unconcerned, "and I don't take chances."
Leona stopped in front of Mobius, her hand resting on the pistol at her side. Despite the clear threat, Mobius didn't even bother to look up from the maintenance log. 13 remained calm, though his posture subtly shifted, preparing for whatever might happen next.
Leona's lips parted, her voice laced with barely contained fury. But before she could say anything, a loud crash echoed from the other side of the hangar, drawing their attention. Hibiki had slipped on the floor and knocked over a large pile of crates and parts, causing them to spill everywhere.
"HEY!" Mobius shouted, his voice cutting through the hangar like a whip. "Quit screwing around and get to work!"
Leona turned her glare from Mobius to Hibiki, "Hibiki, the captain said she wanted to talk to you in the conference room. Get going."
Hibiki crawled out from under the crates, clearly annoyed. "I'm getting real tired of everyone thinking they can order me around," he muttered before storming out of the hangar.
As the door closed behind Hibiki, Mobius leaned casually against a steel crate, flipping through the logs in his hand. "Well, Leona, since you're here, I guess it's time to talk to you about the amount of ammunition you've been expending."
Leona's eyes narrowed as she drew her pistol and pointed it directly at Mobius' head. "You're coming with me, both of you," she demanded, her voice shaking slightly with the intensity of her emotions.
13 slid his foot back into a concealed defensive stance, but Mobius didn't even flinch. He didn't take his eyes off the maintenance log, his voice laced with a mocking tone as he responded, "Well, look who's just been grounded."
"I'm not kidding around!" Leona barked, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to maintain control.
"Neither am I," Mobius replied smoothly. In a single, fluid motion, he grabbed her gun, yanking her forward as he twisted the gun around in her hand, wresting it from her grasp. He stood a foot back keeping the gun leveled at her, but close to his chest.
"Bit of advice" he began as he glared at her, his eyes cold and precise, hinting that he won't hesitate to fire, "Next time you pull a gun on someone, don't extend your arm. Makes it easier to disarm you."
Rage burning in her eyes Leona lunged at him, reaching for the gun while trying to throw a punch at him, but she missed and Mobius kept out of reach.
"You've already lost," Mobius said coldly, his voice devoid of any emotion. "And I've had it with your insubordination. I'm cutting my losses."
Leona growled, trying to attack again, but Mobius effortlessly sidestepped her strike and pinned her against the wall, the gun firmly planted against her back, "Not only are you grounded," he continued, "but now you're relieved of your duties as a pilot. You are forbidden to take off into any battle, and your dread will be confined to the reserve bay to be used as a spare craft. From now on, you work somewhere else on the ship."
"You arrogant bastard!" Leona roared, attempting one last desperate attack.
This time, Mobius grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, forcing her to her knees. His eyes flicked down to her waist, where he noticed the restraints she had brought.
"Leona," Mobius said, his voice dripping with mock hurt, "you brought restraints? You weren't planning on arresting me, were you?"
Before she could respond, Mobius fastened the restraints around her wrists and pushed her forward. "Walk," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Leona hesitated for a moment, then lowered her head in defeat. "The captain never should've let any of you stay on the ship," she muttered bitterly.
"Shoulda, woulda, coulda," Mobius shot back, his voice sharp and unforgiving. "Now, move."
With that, he led her out of the hangar, his grip firm and unyielding as he guided her toward her new reality.
Leona started walking again with Mobius and 13 behind her. She still tried to resist, her steps hesitant, occasionally trying to thrash out of Mobius' hold, but it was futile. Despite her efforts, Mobius held her easily, his grip firm but not forceful, treating her resistance with the same calm indifference as one might deal with a minor inconvenience. Frustration built within her, her breath quickening, and tears began to shimmer in her eyes, but she fought to hold them back, refusing to let herself break.
"Still have a bad feeling about this, Captain?" Mobius asked 13 as they walked, handing Leona's pistol to him.
"Yeah," 13 replied, glancing around with an edge of unease. "Something really doesn't feel right. I swear it feels like someone's watching us right now."
"That's because there are cameras in the corridor," Mobius reminded him, his tone flat, as they stopped in front of the elevator.
The elevator doors opened, and Hibiki bolted out, sprinting for the hangar, his expression one of barely controlled panic. He shouted at them to get out of his way as he rushed past.
"What do you think he did this time?" 13 asked.
"Something stupid again," Mobius replied, his voice dripping with weariness. "I'm getting really sick of cleaning up his messes."
Gently pushing Leona onto the elevator, Mobius remained stoic, his face set in a cold, professional mask. The elevator doors closed behind them, and the lift ascended to the bridge deck.
"So what do you think made her decide to attack us?" 13 asked, breaking the tense silence.
"It could only be a few things," Mobius replied, his tone analytical, devoid of any personal feeling. "First thought is that she really hates us, but that's normal."
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" Leona barked, her voice filled with frustration and humiliation, but Mobius didn't even glance at her, continuing as if she hadn't spoken.
"Another possibility could be that Hibiki finally did something to piss off the entire crew… actually, that's the most likely possibility."
The doors opened, and Mobius placed his hand on Leona's back, shoving her forward off the elevator and toward the bridge. His demeanor was ice-cold, each movement proof of his superiority.
The bridge doors slid open, revealing the tense scene inside. A screen showed the Vanguard flying away, with BC yelling at Hibiki, whose voice crackled through the comms.
"I'm never returning to that hellhole again, you hear me! See ya!"
"What did he do this time?" Mobius yelled as he shoved Leona inside, drawing everyone's attention to the doorway.
Seeing Leona in restraints, BC's eyes narrowed. "What's going on here?" she demanded.
"Leona here," Mobius replied, his tone sharp and all business. "Decided it would be a good idea to aim a gun at my head and threaten me." He paused, his tone turning deadly serious as he continued. "You can see the results."
Leona tried to pull away, her anger and humiliation boiling over, but Mobius held her in place with ease, his grip iron and adamant. She snarled at him, her eyes blazing with defiance, but he remained unmoved, his expression cold and detached.
"Captain, her weapon, please," Mobius said, not taking his eyes off Leona.
13 handed him Leona's gun, and Mobius dismantled the pistol with one hand, dropping each piece onto the floor with a deliberate calmness. "Not only have I grounded her," he said, his tone as cold as the steel he discarded, "but I've also decided to relieve her of her duties as a pilot. Her dread is going to be moved to the reserve bay."
Magno closed her eyes and sighed, clearly weary of the endless conflicts.
"No," BC said firmly, her voice brooking no argument. "For now, we'll confine Leona to the bridge, but until the situation with the rest of the crew is resolved, I will be taking full control of the ship and all decisions made on it."
Mobius' eyes hardened, his voice insistent. "I strongly advise you to reconsider, Commander. Leona's actions are a liability. If she's left unchecked, it could put the entire crew at risk."
BC met his gaze, her own unyielding. "This is my decision, Mobius. Stand down."
Mobius held her stare for a long moment, the tension between them palpable, before he finally nodded, accepting her authority. "As you say Commander, but for the record I believe this to be a poor decision" he said, making it clear he disagreed as he complied with the order.
"Now, just what is going on with the rest of the ship?" Mobius asked, his voice cutting through the tension. "Usually, I wouldn't care, but since whatever 'it' is dragged me into it… it became my business as well."
Another screen appeared over the bridge, showing both Dita and Meia.
"Captain, please do something!" Dita cried, her voice filled with desperation. "We have to go find Mr. Alien before something happens to him."
Meia spoke up, her tone steady, though concern laced her words. "With your permission, Captain, I'd like to leave to go search for him."
"I'd advise against it," Mobius said, his voice carrying a cold authority. "Meia is the leader of the dread teams; she'll currently be more useful calming this annoying issue on the ship. If we must send someone to go search for Hibiki, I say it should be Captain Hamilton instead."
"Why me?" 13 asked, though there was no real resistance in his tone.
"Because I'm going to be needed here," Mobius told him, his voice matter-of-fact. "One way or another, this… whatever the hell is going on ends in the next hour even if I have to start getting physical."
"What do you have in mind?" Magno asked, her tone cautiously curious.
"Well, the most effective approach would be to order whoever started this crap to the conference room where we all sit down and talk, buuuuuuut I have a better idea. I'm going to remind that person why we're all here together in the first place. Meia will be at my side to make sure I don't kill them instead."
"You realize this plan of yours has me walking into the lion's den with you," Meia said, her voice carrying a note of dry humor despite the tension.
Mobius hid his smile from them as he left the bridge and met up with Meia outside the hangar.
"So who started all of this?" Mobius asked her.
"Barnette," Meia told him without hesitation.
"That quick to sell out your allies," Mobius said sarcastically, his tone light despite the situation.
"To someone I trust to maintain proper levels of self-control," Meia replied, her own tone steady.
"Relax," Mobius smiled, his expression softening slightly. "I was only messing with you. I'll be as civil as I need to be. Actually, I was planning on taking a nap while you and Barnette talked all this out, I'm already exhausted from all of this shit."
Meia chuckled silently, a small smile playing on her lips.
The two quickly fell into silence as they walked. Despite her outward calm, Meia's worry was evident in the tightness of her expression, the way her eyes darted nervously.
"He'll be fine," Mobius told her, his voice softer now, reassuring. "He'll cool off after a while and come back."
"You sound so sure of that," Meia said as they turned a corner, only to be met by several crew members pointing weapons at Mobius.
"We clearly have never met" Mobius began looking at the group, "I don't respond well to threats."
Meia stepped in front of Mobius, "Where's Barnette?" she asked, her voice steady and commanding.
"She's on the bridge speaking with the Captain. Now step aside, Meia. We're throwing him back in a cell where he belongs."
"Oh, please do try," Mobius taunted, his voice low and dangerous, before Meia shot him a glare. "Right, I get it," Mobius said, his tone shifting to one of reluctant compliance. "Back to the bridge for us."
Mobius turned around and walked away with Meia, ignoring the crew members yelling and threatening him.
Re-entering the bridge, Mobius saw Barnette pointing her gun at 13's head, who, like him, didn't show any signs of intimidation or concern.
"I don't think you understand, Captain," Barnette said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her fear. She kept her gaze fixed on Magno. "The men are a threat to us. They are our enemies just as much as the Harvesters. They need to be locked up until we return home."
"We're your enemies, you say?" Mobius' voice cut through the tension as he approached from behind her. "Interesting choice of words."
Barnette whipped around, her gun now aimed at Mobius, who was closing the distance between them with unsettling calmness. His smile was more than arrogance; it was a quiet, lethal confidence.
"Remind me, who was it that saved the Nirvana single-handedly from a giant asteroid and an enemy formation? Oh, that's right, it was me. And who was it that rescued you and Jura from that shut-down elevator? Oh, right again—me."
He stopped directly in front of her, their faces inches apart. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, "Now, remind me which of us is an officer on this ship."
Barnette's glare was intense, but Mobius could see the cracks beginning to form in her resolve as he challenged her so openly and calmly—the fear that lurked just beneath the surface. Her hands were trembling slightly, the weight of the gun suddenly feeling much heavier. A primal feeling started worming through her mind as she glared into his eyes, standing before a predator that was daring her to fight back.
"This ends when you're back in a cell!" Barnette snapped, her voice and eyes betraying her rising fear and hate. She thrust the gun toward Mobius' head, her movements jerky, unsteady.
Just like with Leona he quickly seized her weapon, jerking it from her hand and ejecting the magazine and pulling the hammer back to release the chambered round, the whole time his eyes locked on hers.
Barnette's hands shook violently as she tried to maintain her composure, but the sight of Mobius' unnerving calm was too much. Her breath quickened, and her eyes betraying the anger, humiliation and fear warring inside her.
"Now, I'm asking you to put an end to this," Mobius said, his tone as cold as the steel in his hands. "Because if we don't stand together, we all die, and if it means keeping the crew safe I will make the decision to remove liabilities and any threats, even internal ones. So please, don't force me to make that decision, because I do like you Barnette."
Barnette's body slackened as the weight of her actions began to crush her. Her face contorted in a mix of fear and frustration as her shoulders sagged in defeat. She hid her face, avoiding the eyes of everyone on the bridge, and walked away, her steps heavy with the shame of her failed rebellion.
Mobius watched her leave, his expression never wavering. He handed Barnette's pistol to BC before saluting them, "Commander, Captain" he said calmly before leaving the bridge.
Both Yellow 13 and Meia followed him, their footsteps echoing in the silence left behind. They searched the ship, but it was Meia who seemed to sense where Mobius had gone. She led them to the garden section, where they found him standing beneath the ship's canopy, staring into the endless expanse of space.
Yellow 13 approached first, his admiration evident. "I have to say, kid, I'm pretty impressed. You're a lot different than I imagined, but now that I've met you, it's no wonder I lost to you that day."
Mobius kept his gaze fixed on the stars, his voice low. "Do you think we can win if we're fighting against each other? I told her what would happen if she kept this up, that's all there is to it."
13 nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "You've got the makings of a great leader in you. I can tell that Hibiki and Meia admire and look up to you. Even the Captain and BC place their hopes in you. They trusted you to end Barnette's uprising, and you delivered."
He paused, glancing at Meia before continuing, "As long as you're willing to stand against the enemy, I guarantee every single one of them will stand behind you, ready to face whatever comes. And I'm willing to bet that, if it ever came down to it, they'd sacrifice themselves to protect you."
13 turned to leave, but not before stopping beside Meia. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm not good at this sort of thing, but I can tell he doesn't want to talk to anyone but you right now."
Meia nodded, watching 13 walk away before turning her attention to Mobius. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, but then she stepped forward, her voice gentle. "Do you ever get scared?"
Mobius was silent for a few seconds, the question hanging in the air. "I didn't use to, but then you came along and ruined that" a hint of the familiar dry humor in his voice as the corner of his mouth curved in a smirk.
Meia smirked herself and shook her head, "You ruined my plans too, you know" she turned to face him, searching his eyes. "How do you stay so calm all the time?"
Mobius closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. "I refuse to allow myself to be anything else. I refuse to lose any battle. And I refuse to lose anything else that's important to me." He opened his eyes, the intensity in his gaze softened by the sincerity of his words. "Especially you. Right now, Meia, you're the most important part of my life. I won't let anything happen to you. To my last breath, I'll protect you and this ship. I'll make sure you all make it back to Mejere in one piece."
Meia looked away from him, her voice trembling slightly. "It's strange to hear you say that," she admitted, her tone laced with uncertainty. "You've always protected this ship and all of us since you got here. I'm not doubting you, I just…" She paused, feeling a tear forming in her eye as she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "I feel as though you're not telling me the truth, at least not all of it, that there's something bothering you that you won't share with me."
"Do you know why I act the way I do, Meia?" Mobius asked, his voice carrying a weight that Meia had never heard before.
Meia turned her eyes back to him, and for the first time, she saw the pain and fear in his eyes, emotions he had always kept hidden behind his stoic facade.
"Because for years I've had nothing, but a desire for revenge in my life. Nothing else, no celebrating, no joy, nothing fun. Just a burning need to make all of Erusea pay for what they did to my family, my home, my sister. I had nothing left in my life except that to keep me going. I focused on it, making it my only goal, my only need in life."
Mobius looked away, his eyes darkening as he recalled the horrors and torture he had inflicted on Erusean soldiers. "But when I'm with you, Meia, I feel like I can forget all of it—the pain, the anger, everything. You make me want to have a life beyond that, but I only want that life if it's with you."
Meia leaned her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. "Even though you're a man, that actually sounds nice" closing her eyes she leaned up and kissed him.
Mobius closed his eyes as well, losing himself in the warmth of the moment, unaware that Leona was watching them from above.
Leona's eyes narrowed as she observed them, a confusing storm of emotions swirling within her. Anger, envy, and something else—something she couldn't quite identify—rose to the surface. Her fists clenched at her sides as she watched them, feeling a pang of something like resentment, but not just toward Mobius, toward Meia as well though she wasn't even sure why. All she knew was that it burned, making her blood boil as she turned away from the scene after hearing Mobius' words she wanted to be alone with him in that moment, her mind a tangle of conflicting thoughts and emotions she wasn't ready to face.